Tag: R.E.M.

Marc and Alana Regroup

Marc and Alana went to visit Jen. Their kids sat in their strollers, under Ben’s watchful eyes. He was getting bigger and smarter. Like his mom and dad, he was friendly. Probably not a mean bone in his body. He’d never develop superpowers. That’d destroy his sweetness. He’d have to be always on his guard.

Morrissey was blasting on Apple Music as they sat down to eat and sip Pinot Noir from City Winery. Their conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine and Morrissey’s voice. Some people hate the Moz. He speaks the truth and is a great man and entertainer.

Marc and Alana discussed the mess with Christy A. Jen was still a little shaken from her run-in with them. She was still pleased that Jerry was there to keep them safe. She was amazed at how a little boy could be so strong. But she knows he’s Jay’s kid and Anat adopted him when Jay left him for dead. That kid had to be strong. 

Jen’s a decent cook. She served skirt steaks with cauliflower and other veggies. She even baked a peach cobbler. Meanwhile, Christy A. was near the Conference House. She rarely goes to Staten Island. No one was sure why she left Brooklyn. Who would ever?

A band was about to play. They opened with “Rescue” from Echo & the Bunnymen and played a medley of tunes from the Cure, the Smiths, R.E.M., Erasure and the Pet Shop Boys. I guess a cover band can mix the Cure in with the Smiths. Imagine Morrissey and Robert being civil to each other?

They just finished playing R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” and launched into the Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry.” As soon as the vocalist got to the lyrics, “I try to laugh about it and hide all the tears in my eyes,” there were tears all over the Conference House. 

Middle-aged adults, some with their young children, were getting smacked with semolina bread. The goths were hit harder than the others. None of the people who usually stopped Christy A. were anywhere near Staten Island. 

Almost at the same time, Marc’s, Alana’s, Jen’s and Anat’s iPhones buzzed with an Apple News flash. It mentioned the NYPD was on the scene at the Conference House trying to stop an attack. They texted Dan to see what he knew. He wrote back that he was out in the park with Gili when he got the alert. His commander asked how fast he could get to the Conference House. He said he’d rush over.

Meanwhile, things were getting messier in Tottenville at the site of the Conference House. The emergency response unit was getting smashed. Dan dropped Gili off at his parents’ and jumped into his car and prayed that Anat and her Avenger-like friends were en route. He had no idea. 

His Wi-Fi wasn’t working well. He was able to call Anat. She was home and said she’d do her best to get there. But the trip from the Upper East Side to the southernmost tip of Staten Island was not easy to make. She’s not Superman and couldn’t fly. She didn’t have a tie fighter. She would figure it out. She wondered where the others were.

Pomegranate — Book 5

Book 5

Early, Tuesday morning, Marc boarded his Amtrak Acela headed for D.C. He was going on a business trip. He loved going to D.C. His dad, may his soul rest used to have biz apartment in Alexandria, Va., Marc crashed there on and off for months. When not working he would have a beer with an old college friend. And he’s also having dinner with one of his besties and her beautiful family.

He found a seat in the quiet car, opened his Nook, and began to read. He was still thinking about Jen. But was thinking much more about Alana. He was unnerved after their battle. But he’d be ok. Man did he like her.

Marc developed his powers years ago while praying in Amuka. He was hoping his prayers would find him a wife. Instead, he became very powerful. During his meditation, he heard whispers telling him he was going to gain powers and must use them for good. He wasn’t sure what to believe. And chalked it up to the wonderful glasses of wine from he sipped in the art district in Safed. He sipped them with fresh laffa bread, olive oil, and hummus. He thinks about that day all the time. He was wondering how Alana developed her strengths and if it was only apples. Of course, he thought she had more powers. Somehow he knew she would unleash them on him. He hopes only on him. He could fight back. Others would go down.

He was worried she might use them to go after people. She was always a little vindictive. The train pulled into DC’s Union Station and he jumped on the Metro’s Red Line toward the Marriott.

He checked in and went to his office. Things were going as planned. He’d work for several hours and then trek out to Rockville on the train. Not on a bus. Boy does he have a song for everything and loves R.E.M.

Things were quiet in his company’s D.C. office. The illiterates were out. The NYC office was not much different. Marc had a friend or two in both. But for the most part, hated them. He grabbed his laptop and headed to the Metro station. He was going to see his friend, Rebecca, and her wonderful youngsters.

He was walking down Pennsylvania Avenue. The usual crazies were protesting. It happens daily. His mind was drifting in thoughts about tonight’s Yankees-Red Sox game. He’d catch it on the TV at the hotel’s bar when he got back from Rebecca’s.

As he approached the Metro, he saw an elderly man being beaten by young thugs. The man was gasping for air. Marc really didn’t need this. He knew he couldn’t let an old man get hurt. Not only was this happening, but an out of control woman was also trying to fight with some of the protestors, who were loud. Yet they very peaceful. He was perplexed as to how to handle multiple fights. But he knew he had to.

“Hey, tough guys. Does beating up an old man make you feel strong? Are you that weak?”

The three 20 somethings looked at Marc. One pulled out a knife and ran toward him. As he approached Marc backed up and landed a kick in the guy’s chest. He went down. The other two pulled out their silencer-equipped Glocks and aimed. Marc didn’t even quiver. He stood there waiting to take the shots. The men pulled the trigger. Marc’s perfect vision tracked the bullets. He stood firm and his hands began to twitch. He opened his closed hands and shot cannon strength pomegranates, which deflected the bullets. The guys tried to fire again. But Marc shot several blasts of honey into the barrel of both guns. The guns backfired and the assailants fell down hard onto the concrete.

Meanwhile, the woman was still attacking the protestors. He did not have any time to waste. He approached her. They quickly looked at each other and she picked up a fire extinguisher and fired at the protestors. He jumped in the middle of it and barley flew out of his hands, while honey ejected from his eyes. She aimed the extinguisher at him and fired. He ducked. She missed. He returned fire with six pomegranates. They hit her all over. She screamed. She keeled over. Marc ran to the Metro station. He hopped on the Red Line and was safe in Rockville.