Oscar and Fred

“What is this place?” the old man muttered while dangling his legs over a solid-seeming cloud. He looked around. There were hundreds of similar billows wafting around him. As far as he could see, he was the only living creature. At least he thought he was living, but he had no recollection of arriving.

Intermittent breezes felt soft as they lifted a few strands of white hair on the top of his head. Soon he detected flutes piping somewhere far off.

“Well, this isn’t so bad,” he whispered as he leaned back into the gentleness and closed his eyes with the intention of waiting quietly for whatever event was to come. He had a dim memory of being wheeled into a room with pale green walls, buzzing sounds from a machine, and the murmur of voices that faded in and out. Nothing more.

Sleep soon overtook him, a deep sleep with dappled pastel shapes drifting behind his eyelids. Presently, out of the sky hurtled a solid object that landed beside him with a weight that doubled up the cloud around them and startled him into a sitting position. Beside him was a baby dressed in nothing but a white diaper, also sitting. The two stared at each other in wonder.

“Oh, for God’s sake, they were serious,” roared the baby. “I told them I didn’t want to go through all this again. Twice is enough to cure any delusions I might have had about humans. And, if you don’t mind my asking, who the hell are you?”

“Oscar,” was all the old man could manage. “Oscar Wilson.”

“Well, Oscar, I was promised a non-stop flight to some poor woman’s painful birth scene. I say poor woman because last time the girl was having her first baby, and she got me. I was so furious at my situation that I cried day and night. She didn’t deserve that, but then, neither did I.” The baby paused, all the while gazing speculatively at Oscar. “By the way, forgive my rudeness. I’m Fred, or at least I was Fred last time. It’ll do for now.”

Oscar cleared his throat while looking down at the angry, red face beside him. “Oh, Fred is it? Well, Fred, where are you headed?”

“Down, obviously. I mean I just landed here like a lead sinker in water, so if you’ve half a brain, you’d deduce down as the direction of my journey.“ Noting Oscar’s puzzled expression, Fred added. “Forgive me again. I’m being obnoxious. So, let me ask you, do you know where you’re going?”

“Haven’t the least notion,” said Oscar. “Based on your observation about your own journey, I’ll guess I’m traveling up.”

“Makes sense,” observed Fred. “I mean you’re an old geezer, so we can’t imagine you’re just starting out, can we? Well, at least you’re headed for something pleasurable.”

“Am I indeed?”

“Yes, you am indeed,” and Fred swerved around to search the sky above and have a look below. “Still nothing,” he said. “I wonder how long we’ll be stuck here.”

“Hard to say, isn’t it?” asked Oscar.

“Well, you’re perceptive old fella,” replied Fred. “While we’re waiting, let me ask you a few questions.”

“Shoot.” Oscar wiggled himself into a more comfortable position while shaking his right leg to relieve a creeping numbness.

“Well, any wars going on down there right now?” Oscar closed his eyes and began to grasp a memory here and there, and after a few minutes, his life came into focus with increasing clarity.

“Of course, there’s always wars. Nothing huge mind you, just scuffles all over the globe over land, trade, or religion. Power too.”

“Still?”

“Oh, yes. Take religion. Tell ‘em they’ll go to hell if they don’t do what you say. Then tell them they’ll go to heaven if they obey. Works most of the time, but sometimes there’s disagreement and even fighting.”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” said Fred. “I was a mess back then, fell in love with another boy. Did that ever raise a ruckus!”

“Different now,” mused Oscar. “Pretty much the accepted thing, it is. Even a new language to accommodate the many types of gender they’ve thought up. Would you believe a single person can now be a they? Yep, gender fluid or some such. Not like lighter fluid, but sort of the same thing when it first came in, ignited all sorts of upset.” Oscar smiled at his joke. Fred did not.

“That’s an improvement then,” mused Fred. “Halleluiah, for our team.”

“You that way now?”

“Yep.”

“How’d you know? You’re only a baby.”

Fred smiled at Oscar’s ignorance. “Clearly your first time down and back, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s complicated, what we know and what we don’t. But, first off, let me give you a preview of where you’re headed. You’ll be met by your favorite dog, or cat, or whatever animal you loved best that died.”

“It was a cow,” put in Oscar.

Fred sighed with impatience. “Okay, old man, a cow. Anyway, so you move on from the ‘Oh, fluffy I’ve missed you’ to see your old friends and family. There are a few days of excitement, picnics, dancing, and stuff, and then the lessons begin. I won’t describe those, because you’d leap off this cloud right now. They’re not bad, just boring. After that, it’s settling in with whatever team you’re assigned, and that’s it for the duration until you’re called again, which in my case came way, way, waaaaaay too soon.”

“Who tells you you’re due for earth again?”

“Oh, Lord, I can’t go through all that now. You’ll see. I will tell you that there’s a period when you become visible in preparation, going from transparent to solid. Then they take you into a kind of closet, and you pick your skin. It’s an unattractive affair, sort of slimy, but at least you get to choose what you wear for life. All those skins—lots of colors—hanging on rods.” Fred paused and scratched his belly, then added, “No one ever picks purple.”

Oscar thought about that a minute or two while Fred saw his expression change from pleasant to wary. Then Oscar said, “I hope they let me rest a while before I have to do that.”

“Oh, there’s lots before that, old man, lots and lots. Maybe forever.”

A faint whooshing sound made them both look up, and as it became louder, they saw a golden bird-like object shooting down from above.

“Uh, oh, here we go,” said Fred, hiking up his diaper. It’s either you or me, up or down. Crapshoot. Want to make a bet?”

Oscar didn’t answer but sat staring as the large, winged object grew in size at an alarming rate. Finally, he let out a whistling sigh. “God Almighty, Fred, I ain’t boarding that thing.”

“Yes, you will,” said Fred. They’ll make you. Or it could be for my trip to earth. We’ll see.” With that, the big golden bird pulled up beside the cloud; a wing whipped out and swooped Fred into its center and that done, it rose. 

All Oscar could hear was the baby screaming. “What the hell? You gotta go down, not up,” over and over until its protests grew dim and the whole apparition disappeared into the blue above his head.

“Somebody made a mistake, a really big mistake,” he whispered. For what would have passed for an hour or so on earth, Oscar resumed swinging his legs over the cloud and studying his hands as the silence became a noise of its own, a persistent throb. One thought repeated in Oscar’s brain, “I’m going back to earth; I’m going back to earth.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, there was some unfinished business to attend to; on the other hand…

Bam! Without any warning, the giant bird was back. A wing swept out and hit Oscar on the head, and that’s all he knew until he opened his eyes and looked at green walls, heard the humming of the machine cease, and felt a hand shaking his shoulder. “Oscar, wake up. It’s over,” said a woman’s voice.

Cynthia Osborne Hoskin

22 Brightwood Drive

Cold Spring, KY 41076

859-468-2372

Pennysworth2012@gmail.com

1365 words