Who’s On First ( The Perfect Conspiracy Theory Continued)

In a neighborhood pub in the shadow of the Nations Capitol an unassuming bartender stood post behind the bar. In one hand was a dishtowel and in the other was the same pint glass he had been polishing for the last hour.

   The bar had a supply of clean glasses that could survive several friday nights of fraternity parties but it was what people expected of bartenders.He was all about service.

It was at times like these his imagination tended to escape the shadows of the murky pub and explore the boundaries of reality.

The bartender glanced up at the clock on the wall and noticed that it was about time for a visit from the bearded one. Right on cue the door opened and a shaft of afternoon light barged its way in outlining the man he only knew as the bearded one. When the door had closed and the sunburnt silhouette had faded from his retina he found the bearded man standing in front of him while he waited for his next conspiratorial proclamation.

“My sources say the penny ruse is run amok and the stage is set for Cabal phase 2. I shan’t stay for a beer. I must be off,” said the bearded one and in the blink of an eye he was gone.

Oh I think you already are, thought the bartender.

Mr. Panama will be happy to hear the news. There was no telling when he would show up. Mr. Panama prided himself on his unpredictability.

Mr. Panama often said that he did not live his life in patterns so as to be impossible to follow. The bartender thought Mr Panama lived in a multitude of dimensions but reality wasn’t one of them.

The bartender returned the glass to the shelf and started on another one.

The sound of throat clearing caught his attention and he turned around and low and behold Mr Panama had silently appeared sitting at the bar. I hate when he does that, he thought.

“Has the bearded on been here today,” asked Mr. Panama.

“That would be a yes,” replied the bartender.

“Did he have recent news pertaining to our mutual venture,“ asked Mr. Panama.

“Oh the cabal?”

“Ix nay on the abal cay”, whispered the panama wearing one.

“Oh I’m sorry. Yes, he said something to the effect of “the penny ruse is run amok and the stage is set for Cabal phase 2. I shan’t stay for a beer. I must be off.””

“Very well but I’m confused about the beer part.”

“Well, he couldn’t stay for a beer. I should have left that bit out.”

“Yes, well it sounds like he believes the true goal is really the misdirection. “

“Oh, that’s bad.”

“Au contraire, that is good.”

“It is?”

“Yes. Remember that our main goal really is to keep the penny in circulation.”

“Oh, that is not the diversion?”

“No. The beauty of the plan is that the diversion is the goal.”

“But isn’t Mr. Beard part of the conspiracy?”

“Well yes and no.”

“Oh. Well, who’s on first?”

“Pardon?” replied Mr. Panama.

“Sorry, I’m just a little confused.”

“Mr. Beard is part of the plan. He plays the role of the unwitting conspirator.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

     And I must be playing the role of the unwitting bartender, he thought as he returned the newly polished glass to the shelf.

“Now that that is settled. I shan’t stay. I must be off,” said Mr. Panama

The barmen turned around and noticed that the man had left without a sound. Even the squeaky door was silent.

The barman shook his head and thought “Who’s On First” was much easier to follow. How did I get involved with this charade? I think they both must be off.

Waiting for Dulcinea

Herbert was anxious for the return of St. Peter. Pulling vacation relief for him at the pearly gates had gone rather smoothly. There was a little excitement when Death showed up for a practical joke but most of the time the job was pretty mindless. It reminded him of the taco stand days of his earthly youth minus the smell of grease and the stoned customers. He was becoming board though and was ready to move on to his next assignment;

The shuttle arrived and brought an end to his boredom. Embarking from it in all its splendor was a noble white steed complete with mounted knight and lance.

Herbert took one look and knew that some how he had brought this upon himself.

Herbert was trying to maintain some sense of decorum as the knight approached but abandoned all hope when the steed picked that moment to relieve itself of its earthy load.

“Sorry about that,” replied the knight. “But it did disappear quite quickly. Where did it go?”

“To tell you the truth I never had the occasion to explore that possibility and I would not like to reflect upon it any further if you don’t mind,” replied Herbert in between giggles.

“I can understand that. I myself have never owned a horse much less a suit of armor. I don’t even want to consider the lance,” replied the knight.

So you were not a member of the round table during your earthly tour,” asked Herbert.

“Why no. I was just an accountant and Sir Sheldon sounds far from knightly,” he replied.

“Well Iv’e heard that this kind of thing could occur. I believe its a symbolic manifestation of the persona you cast while living.”

“Huh”

“Well you may have been an accountant but that was not who you really were. I mean you had a personality that could be described as something other than a, accountant-like, didn’t you,” asked Herbert.

“Well yea. Now that you mention it. My friends often said I was too righteous for my own good.”

“Well that’s a start. Not to sound like a therapist or anything but how did this righteousness manifest itself.”

“Oh, I thought you were going to ask about the lance”

“Oh heavens no. I am not even going there.”

“Yea I get that. I guess the big manifestation as you put it was the whistle blowing that ended my career”

“You were a referee also?” replied a smiling Herbert.

“Um no. I told you I was an accountant.”

“Thats a bit of humor Albert.”

“Sorry I don’t really have a sense of humor.”

“You don’t say”

“No, um, what I was referring to is that I discovered that a client was stealing from everyone and I could not let him get away with it.”

“What do you mean everyone?”

“I mean his employees , his wife, his children and the government, everyone. I couldn’t just let that happen.”

I noticed that was a statement and not a question. Obviously you had no qualms because that’s who you were. A man of integrity. A man on a quest. A righteous dude.”

“Dude?”

“Sorry, I got carried away.”

“Thats ok. It kind of gave me goosebumps. But yes, that was me. “

“Which explains why you are now sitting before me on a white steed and holding a lance. By the way, if you don’t mind dismounting and putting down that lance I would appreciate it. It’s a bit unsettling what with the pointy end and me not wearing goggles.”

“Oh yes I’m sorry,” apologized Sheldon as he carefully dismounted while avoiding poking Herbert’s eye out”.

“Thank you. Much better,”exclaimed Herbert.

“So is there a name for this type of manifestation asked Sheldon.”

“I believe it’s called the La Mancha effect.”

“Oh, So I was tilting at windmills?”

“Do you think you were?”

No, I don’t. Although I lost my job, eventually justice was served and reparations were made.”

“Then no windmills were in danger. To tell you the truth I thinks its inappropriately named. I don’t want to sound like an after school special but the world could use some more windmill tilters, um, without the lances.”

“So is there any tilting to do up here?”

“Not really. The originators of any wrongs to be righted are spending eternity elsewhere
but If you’re lucky though there might be a Dulcinea just around the corner.”

“Really? You’re not kidding are you.”

“I would never kid a knight Sir Sheldon.”

Note: Image of windmill by Philip Leara
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