"The prophetic calendar has been announced for centuries..." my professor droned on and on. My mind was elsewhere, as it usually was in this boring, elementary, and required-for-my-major class, Mesopotamian Mathematics.
"While we can only hypothesize as to why the number twelve was so important to the Babylonians, many say the five fingers on one hand, plus the five fingers on the other, plus one for each foot, yields twelve. Thus, they counted in multiples of twelve. As the date 12/12/12 neared, many people began to stock up their bunkers, believing the end was nigh..."
"The end IS nigh" I thought. I envisioned a rainbow in a lemurian crystal, and my mind suddenly swirled with visions of celtic gods, evil national security agents, and a clear message that I was in extreme danger. My finances were such that I couldn't really flee presently. Or could I?
No time to consider that now. I could indeed get the fuck out of that room, and now. I stood, announced "The end IS nigh, I'm getting the fuck out of here" and, to the astonished looks of my classmates, out the door I ran.
I didn't get far.
The campus police were there waiting for me. Apparently this wasn't my first bizarre outburst in a class.
""Will they work against the strains?" one of my interrogators asked the other as he fastened the probes to my wrists. I could barely move a muscle under the packing tape they had used to fasten me to the chair, I was wrapped up like a mummy, only my nose and eyes left untaped.
"We'll find out right NOW." that other replied.
I felt euphoria. My discomfort dissolved as I sank into a blissful state of unchecked hallucinations of flowers, blue sky, and crouching men with their heads thrown back, laughing. Wait what?! Isn't that the ancient Sumerian symbol for Zero?!
Suddenly I understood. I was being erased! The panic rose in my chest, my nose started running profusely, dripping easily down the smooth surface of the packing tape, onto one of my captor's shoes.
The black dog on the couch, who I had not seen before now (was I hallucinating?), got up, sauntered over, and began to lick my captor's snot sodden shoes. As the dog did so, he shrank in size to about the size of a softball, scooted up the pant leg of the officer who held the probes on my wrists, through the man's clothing, out his sleeve and onto the probe, which then began to hum with a composition I recognized as one by Alan Broadbent, one of my favorites. I could hear the contrasting but mind-blowingly complementary lines of his compostition go round and round my head. We all could.
Suddenly, my captors began to dance. The spell was complete. The dog reversed his trip, getting ever larger as he descended down the officer's pants leg, until it ripped open and revealed
Runt Odel herself!
This is my entry to 
As I reread this thing, I see all the influences that went into it.
First, I'm currently reading 
Second, I was at a live Alan Broadbent show just last night at Maureen's Jazz Cellar in Nyack NY. What a blessing that place has been, remaining open and covid compliant for most of the past year, so that I could still have access to quality live music. No dancing though!
Third, I've always had a fascination with the number zero, a number of both power and nothingness, and the Babylonian symbol for it, as if Zero is a divine joke. (after a bit of research, I have found that I am confusing my meso societies. I haven't found any mention of my laughing man yet, but here is a place to start for anyone who might be interested)
Lastly, when I saw my time was running out, I could think of only one thing - Runt Odel.
Thank you for reading my little piece.
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