He sat at the table, holding his coffee cup and watching his wife as she ate her breakfast and scrolled through her device. Something was slightly off this morning, but Hank could not put his finger on what it might be.

Instead, he watched, and he thought.

As he finally took a gulp of coffee, it occurred to him that the answer might be within himself. He had awakened a little past three that morning, extremely dizzy.

“Could that be when it happened?” he questioned.

Hank quickly finished his coffee, kissed his wife on the forehead, and went out the door. He knew he’d have time to think as much as he wanted, but the corn would not harvest itself.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Even my latest fortune cookie is offering to renew my trucks extended warranty now.”

I got to thinking about everything I miss in my life and the number of times I’ve reinvented my work self.

I miss being in the Air Force, the Marine Corps, a reserve sheriff deputy, a stuntman, stand-in, paramedic, firefighter, teacher, instructor, cowboy, security officer, radio announcer, disc jockey, presenter, host, and photo lab manager.

These are things I have enjoyed doing to earn a living.

I have been a road manager, auto detailer, nurse tech, gyppo-logger, fisherman, keno writer, house painter, window washer, car salesman, cashier, car wash jockey, and photo lab manager.

Not all jobs are fun, but they do get the bills paid.

All have provided me with experience and experiences.

They are in my past to make room for my future.

The adventure continues…

My Cousin Elmo says, ” I haven’t spoken to my wife in three days. I don’t like to interrupt her.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “I goofed and let go of my wife’s hand and now we own the women’s shoe section at Walmart.”

As I rush to write this narrative, I am also busy researching. The man mentioned a “madman named Mel,” “1978,” and “Venus.”

These three clues lead to a person who was a writer, a musician, and what many people consider a cult leader who developed a following in New England. In 1974, he had predicted that he would “ascend to Venus,” which did not happen.

Four years later, he reportedly died, though no one has ever produced a death certificate or a place of burial discovered.

Even odder, I know a person with the same last name and who hails from the same place as Mad Mel. To further the strangeness, Mad Mel was born in the same hospital as my mother and not far from where I was raise.

Such knowledge leaves me paranoid. Buddy continues to growl and stare off into the distance when we are outside as if he can hear or see something I cannot.

As this happens, I continue searching the Internet, looking for the names “Johanna” and “John.” I worry that I will find their obituaries.

On edge, I feel as if that I am being watched. It is why I wrote this story so quickly and published it in the most public way possible.

It has been nearly 84-hours since my visitation. My sleep, which has never been great, has been further disrupted with dreams bordering on nightmares of his coming and going.

Did I meet a man, a demon, an angel? I don’t know because of my confusion in this matter.

After analyzing and reanalyzing much of what he told me, I have drawn a startling conclusion that I find hard to wrap my head around. This man, if that is what he was, was also his own mother, father, and sibling.

Crazy. I know, but let me explain.

As a time traveler, he somehow manifested a loop in which he somehow created two other and separate self-entities. These entities found each other, procreated, and had a child that carried both male and female reproductive capabilities.

Doctors decided that this child would be a girl. She was named Johanna.

Here is where it grows increasingly confusing.

John appeared in a separate timeline and came into Johanna’s timeline when the two lines crossed. Since John and Johanna shared the same lineage, it stands to reason he to had both reproductive organs of the two sexes.

Since the mystery man could do nothing about Johanna, who was pregnant at the time, he was assigned to alter John’s timeline. Thinking a jump would end John’s heartache and fulfill his duties, he discovered the opposite, accidentally bringing the pair together.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Alcohol doesn’t make you fat, it makes you lean…lean against walls, tables, counters and ugly people.”

He grew more and more agitated as he talked. His pacing back-and-forth heightened my nervousness beyond what it had first been when he suddenly showed up.

His increased distress also caused Buddy to grow restless. The dog’s low growls had become louder, and I found it impossible to keep him quiet by then.

“So, what now?” I asked.

“First, I destroy Johanna and John,” he answered.

“Don’t you mean murder?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “You cannot murder what is replicated, only destroy.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“You will,” he said. “Right now, I must go. They are tracking me.”

“Where will you go?” I asked.

“A mad man named Mel, who disappeared in 1978 your time, went to Venus,” he said. “I shall join him.”

Suddenly, he began to vibrate and glow before evaporating into nothingness.

Buddy sprang to his paws, his white and brown hair hackled from neck to tail, and barking in confused terror. His fading from sight left me disoriented and with a deep sense of nausea, leaving me wanting to vomit.

I found it hard to keep my balance as I tried standing, and in the end, I sat, remaining there until I came back to my senses.

“Our jump was perfect,” he said. “But it was only after I saw the woman did I realize the mistake I had made. I suddenly became imperative that I correct the error before the time-lines became irreparably tangled and distorted.”

He paused for some time before continuing.

“As I approached him, he could see the look of fear in my eyes,” he offered. “I grabbed him and tried to drag him away, but she withdrew a can of hair spray from her purse and, with a lighter, turned the spray into a small flame thrower, melting the flesh from my face.”

“Severely injured, panicked, and in pain, I ran away and then transported myself to the agency seeking medical help,” he concluded.

“So you had to have plastic surgery,” I said.

“It was during my recovery that I told a councellor what I had done, what I had discovered and how I needed to correct the mistake,” he said.

“Later, I overheard their plans to erase my memory and retire me from service,” he said. “I escaped before they had the chance to do so.”

“And now, you’re on the run, right?” I asked.

“Correct,” he said.

“So why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Because I am my only family, and I have no one to share it with or grieve for me when I’m gone, and I want my history to be told,” He said.