Wednesday, April 10, 2019



THE FULL WEIGHT OF clarity bore down upon Oliver Jordan as he sat perched on the edge of Peter Pembleton’s couch and told his story.

He could hear himself talking and had to admit that had it not happened to him, despite the world they live in, it all sounded a bit far fetched. Mostly because he found that once he thought about it, he could really only come to one logical conclusion. He was now a super powered human being. A Mighty. It was something he’d always dreamed of. It just couldn’t be real.

Oliver’s tale unfolded in quick bursts, broken up only by the tentative sips he took from his steaming mug of coffee, all the while his legs bouncing more than a pair of jack hammers working overtime. Mr. Pembleton, to his credit, said nothing as Oliver talked. He asked no questions, just sat patiently in his recliner and listened with all the attentiveness of a veteran therapist.

Eventually Oliver’s story came to an end and he sat silent, his eyes wide and unblinking.

Mr. Pembleton smiled and swallowed down the last of his coffee.

“Normally I’m not much of a coffee drinker,” Mr. Pembleton said setting his empty mug on the tray table next to the chair. “Especially at this time of night. However, you and I have a lot to get through, so I felt it right to indulge this one time.”


“Coffee,” Mr. Pembleton repeated. “I don’t drink it much anymore.”

“Sir,” Oliver said. “Could you please help me make sense of what happened to me out there tonight?”

Mr. Pembleton ignored the question and instead took another sip of his coffee, found the mug empty, and rose. “Excuse me, my boy. Need to fill’er up.”

Oliver waited, his legs still bouncing, and tried to fight the urge to scream as he listened to Mr. Pembleton fumble about in the kitchen. Then, just as he felt he could take it no longer and was about to storm into the kitchen and demand that Mr. Pembleton tell him what was going on with the alien and the ring, the old man returned with his coffee.

Oliver waited as Mr. Pembleton took his seat.

Oliver sighed as Mr. Pembleton blew the steam from his mug and took a test sip.

“Yikes,” Mr. Pembleton said. “That’s a bit too hot for my liking.” He placed the mug on the tray table and began to stare at the open book of crosswords that lay there next to the mug.

“Mr. Pembleton?” Oliver said. “The ring?”

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