"I need a diazepam," Sol muttered as he made his way past the overflowing garbage can towards the kitchen. He glanced amongst the clutter for a spot to set his half-eaten frozen dinner. He plopped the carton onto the countertop, sending a swarm of insects shooting out from underneath the pile of previous microwaveable containers. He moved his arm along the countertop to scoop a few hundred bugs into the sink, turning the hot scalding water on them, which sent them swirling down the drain.

Bugs made him nervous. "Did I just take a diazepam?" Sol thought as he opened the bottle he kept close. He found a partial cup of coffee that had been sitting on the stove for days and washed down the 2 mg dose. Diazepam was the generic version of Valium. His pharmacy gave it out to seniors for $4 a month otherwise he couldn't afford them.

He skidded as he turned toward the living room, his slippers smeared with crushed insects, making the kitchen floor slippery.

Rounding the corner, he saw a dark image sitting in his recliner.

"Hey, who are you and what are you doing in my chair?" Sol demanded adamantly.

"Surveying and surmising for the devil," came the reply.

Walking in front of the chair, Sol noticed that the figure looked like a shadowy version of himself, except for an eerie dark feeling that made his skin crawl.

"And what have you surveyed and surmised?" Sol replied.

"That you're not too smart…old man," the carnal one spoke in a derisive tone.

"I hope you're not just blowing smoke," Sol replied threatening, "The inhalation will kill you".

Sol was nervous by the exchange. "I need another diazepam," He said as he took a pill from the bottle.

"That's your fifth one today…fool. You're only suppose to take 1 every 12 hours," the darkness taunted.

"I don't care, I don't care, it's only 2 mg each. I know what I'm doing!" Sol defiantly stated as he gulped the pill down before reason could set in.

The room suddenly grew darker. Sol put his hand on the wall to steady himself. He was feeling the effects of the Valium.

"Your daughter would be taking care of you now if you hadn't run her off," the image said while examining the redness in Sol's face.

"Bull!" Sol stated angrily at the implication that he ever did anything wrong.

"Really?" the darkness commented salaciously.

As a shaft of light from an unknown source illuminated the wall above the fireplace, a scene unfolded of their last encounter; retelling a moment he had long since forgotten and had wanted to stay forgotten.

"I don't need you, I don't need anyone! You can go anytime, Suzanne!" Sol demanded, his black angry eyes staring a hole through her.

"But what will you do, how will you make it on your…?" she cried as he cut her off with his one-upmanship display, pridefully dominating the conversation.

"You can leave me just like your mother did," he said despising his wife for not being there to wait on him hand and foot. "She's probably dead now. She couldn't make it without me!"

"She remarried," Suzanne said meekly, not wanting to hurt him.

"She is?" he said in a momentary pitiful tone. "Is she happy?" he asked, hoping that she was not.

"Yes, pappy. She is very happy," Suzanne said wistfully.

He thought for a moment in quiet reflection and then his face hardened. "Well, to hell with her…and to hell with you! I'll call you when I need you!" he demanded. He forgot to get her phone number as if his pride would ever let him call her.

The carnal image interjected, "You have spent your entire life playing a victim of circumstance in every situation. And you ARE a victim in a manner of speaking, held captive by your own pride. But you are so full of manure, it's hard for anyone to give a damn!"

"I need a diazepam," Sol said as he fidgeted with the bottle.

"You're brave for a crazy ass fool!" his base carnality spoke observing Sol's demeanor.

"Yeah, well…crazy comes with a second set of balls," Sol defended himself as he took Valium number 7.

"Okay," the carnal man said laughing, "I think I know what you mean, but…"

"What if I decided to sit on you?" Sol said fast and erratically, beginning to get agitated. "Yeah, I'll sit on you. How would like that, huh? I'll jump up and down on you, how about that!" Sol said backing up so he could jump onto the chair.

He attempted to jump into the recliner feet first, but slipped and slowly began to fall. He remembered having more strength earlier in his life. He hit his head on the end table, causing roaches to scurry down its sides and onto the recliner. He fell backwards onto the floor, hitting his head once again, leaving a second gash this time on the back of his skull.

Sol cried. His tears poured from his eyes onto the filthy floor. He knew there was no one to help him. He knew he had run everyone off who had ever loved him. He accepted for the first time, that he was a fool as life seeped from his body.

His daughter was across town when she felt her father's presence, as if he was there with her. It felt as if his arms were about her, as if to say if he had it to do over again, he would have loved her proper.

She called his house, but there was no answer.

Upon arriving to his home, she opened the unlocked door and found his body on the living room floor, cold, covered with insects. Tearfully, she brushed them off of him, saying to herself while slowly shaking her head, "Oh pappy."

Aidan's standard day had become a bit flat, lately: taking the lift down to the labs inside the building's basement, then connecting to the lan and following the procedure.

He got in at the same hour,except holidays. So far nothing new from the day before had occurred, the same old routine he was already accustomed to kept on month by month, just like today…At every stop some people went in, other technicians exited, nothing else.

But this time the lift stopped at the fourth floor and three people—one young dark-haired woman and two slender middle-aged men(one greying, the second hairless)— came in."Two of them are well-dressed,calm and uncommunicative, different from the usual customers, while the last one looks like a down-at-heel salesman" Aidan considered, having his teal blue eyes on them.

Suddenly, the car stopped. At first the three individuals remained motionless, then, as the halt was unexpectedly protracting, the tallest one pushed the emergency button, then everyone simply waited.

An explosion was heard in the distance and a shaking hit the lift they were in. At that point the woman started crying out.

"What's on?" Aidan asked "A terrorists' attack?"

The greying man of about fifty stepped forwards,bowed his head,folded the hands and began praying, commending his soul to God by telling the same old litany heard over and over again. This didn't stopped the shaking.

On the contrary, the other one and the woman continuously complained and swore. Nothing happened for long. But as the first one started praying again, the shaking worsened.

Then,the tallest one asked the religious man to stop praying, saying that he was an atheist and such things were of no help to them. The woman, too, revealed she was an atheist.

"Maybe everyone here should simply follow the Chosen Ones' teachings…" the tallest man bursted out "Their rituals had always protected me and my career…"

The woman had a look at him, adding "Me, too…the Chosen Ones' Sect I'm in gives some precepts that could sound weird to the ordinary people, but those really turn out to be very helpful…"

"So, are you from the Chosen Ones, too?So we are well protected!" the man smiled.

"Yes, yes…you're quite right, our sect's teachings always work!Our wishes are always granted in the end…"

The praying salesman was listening— unseen— to them, when another explosion resounded nearby. He stopped praying and turned to the others "What are you piffling?"

"Your prayers risk only to make matters worse…"

"What if the teachings of your sect are the real cause of all this?"

"Don't even think of it!It's your fault!"

The man turned back and started praying again. At that point the car was so badly shaken that everyone became terror-stricken, then he immediately ceased his litany, crying.

The woman looked at him hopefully "You see?Stop praying,please!"

Eventually,the man did as requested "So what…?"

"Open your mind to our teachings…"

"What teachings?"

"Just forswear your religion,join our sect…"

"Why your teachings should be better than some old religious precepts?"

"Listen to me: I was only a busboy twenty years ago, then I joined the Chosen Ones and my life changed, my career took me in brief from being a nobody to owing the company I worked for…"

"Me too!" the woman intervened "I'm a successful manageress now, having been only a poor retainer for long, before joining…"

The man looked doubtful "Actually, I'm not so religious after all,it's only a custom…so,what should I do?"

"Give your soul to the Devil…"

"Nonsense!Aren't you an atheist?"

Another explosion made the car sway.

"Think of it again, man…it's only the requested formulary, no need to believe in such things…"

Some smoke started entering the lift "Join us,or we all will be lost!"

"Will it suffice?"

"Just give it a try…" the woman said.

Watching the fires already visible sideways,he accepted "Ok,ok, I do…I give my soul to the Devil!"

The smoke began retiring immediately, but the lift was mildly shaken again.

"What about you?" the woman told Aidan, who had been unable to speak for a long time.

"Ok, ok, I do, too…" Aidan repeated soon.

"Now it's done!" the tallest man stated.

"It's binding!You sold your soul, man…now you're ours!" the woman added.

"Unblock the lift now!" the (formerly)praying man ordered.

"Let me introduce ourselves:we are old demons usually using this lift just to test humans…most of them give their soul to the Devil to save their life, finally. All the damages you heard or saw were artificial, it's all due to our powers…"

"Pleased to meet you, but I'm not a human…"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm Aidan: Automatized Investigating Device for Anomalous Nobblers, a Cyborg, some living tissues on metal,an artificial brain in my head…I work for some human researchers who knew that in this lift some strange paranormal events happened over the recent months. They sent me here to study such things…but I am not a real man."

"So you have not a soul….?"

"I have not"

"You look quite like a man…" the greying one noticed the lifeless look in Aidan's eyes.

"Humans will make me go mad!All their weird technicalities…" the first demon exclaimed.

"You proved very useful for my keepers' researches…"

"We are monitored…get off now!" the second demon ordered.

As the lift opened, the three started running away.

"Please, don't worry,next time things will go better for you…"Aidan said.

"Hold your tongue!" a voice from afar told him.

The boys sat on the floor with their legs crossed, bodies tensed, and looks of complete concentration constricting their faces. Their tiny fingers in practiced synchronization tapped a rapid cadence on their controllers. A steady song of blips and boings issued from the TV as a pair of multi-colored sprites with oversized hammers jumped from virtual platform to virtual platform in a race after floating neon mushrooms and hopping pink vampire bunnies. Meredith was happy.

She surveyed the damage. The boys had littered the living room floor with dozens of toys. She danced around a large yellow dump truck and two green tractors, negotiated a pile of building blocks and disparate puzzle pieces, and then vaulted a pile of stray parts from a Magco Connecto Robot set. She figured she should tackle that mess first, the boys being especially unresponsive to her pleading for them to clean up their own toys when they were playing video games, but there was something more pressing. The dishes from lunch, spattered with spaghetti sauce, were still on the table. She reached for her blue veederm gloves. She always expected the smell of latex as she pulled them on, they had that consistency. So she let one snap into place just below her elbow with the determination of someone ready to clean the place from floor to ceiling.

"No matter how advanced technology becomes," she thought, "spaghetti sauce will always be messy." She thrust her hands into the hot sudsy water that was filling the kitchen sink. The heat was intense. It was almost burning her hands, but she kept them in.

"Is this your idea of a good time?" Bradley asked walking in and leaning against the fridge. His shirt was half open revealing his sweat-slick chest. A roguish smile nestled in a swath of five o'clock shadow was made even more devilish by a mock scowl. Meredith blew at a tuft of hair that habitually fell into her face whenever she tried to work and then looked at him. The heat of the water still engulfed her hands. He was so out of her league.

"Yes," she said emphatically. She reached for another plate and tried to ignore him. "What's wrong with doing the dishes?" He was on the prowl and he wouldn't stop advancing until he had successfully distracted her.

"Wasn't talking about the dishes. All of this." He made a dismissive flick with one hand.

Meredith looked down at the plate in her hands. Streaks of brilliant red were dripping off the porcelain and tinting the suds. She could see her reflection in the plate and she ran her gloved finger along the edge and it squeaked. She wondered how much work had gone into making the perfect sauce.

"If you are referring to the boys, I'm not going to discuss it," she said. She continued to look down into the suds. Her brow was furrowed. She knew what was coming. He couldn't be blamed though, it was just the way he was.

"Well, it's not my idea of fun," he snarled, "…this playing house."

"And just what do you expect me to do?" she asked. She refused to look at him again. She knew what he expected. He didn't want the boys to be around… ever. Although he'd never come right out and say it. He just wanted her to himself. Meredith didn't know how to reconcile this. Part of her was thrilled and flattered, but part was just repulsed by his childishness.

"Just get rid of them," he said coming up behind her.

Meredith grabbed a towel, started drying her hands, but still avoided making eye contact with him. Then she reached for the right tone, the one where the boys actually listened to her. "Boys, why don't you go outside?" She looked into the living room. She had their attention. "Now. It's perfect outside. Go play catch or something."

There were some moments of grumbling and characteristic whining, but finally the patio door slammed and she watched out the window as they raced across the carpet of green lawn. They found a favorite spot beneath the maple tree and started tossing a softball back and forth. Beyond the fence a clear blue sky stretched on into infinity. Meredith wished she could feel the warmth of the sun on her whole body,

"Why don't you go out and play with them?" she asked.

"Please," he said scoffing. "I'm not daddy material, babe. You know that, and the sooner you get that delusion out of your head, the happier we'll be. Why don't you get rid of them for good?"

She was shocked that he had the gall to ask that. She knew what he was, but still, he shouldn't be that brazen.

"But I… I love them," she said at last almost surprised by her own admission.

"And what about me? Do you love me too?" He asked mocking her.

She reached up to touch him tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the sharp ridges in his face, the bristle of his eyebrows, the roughness of his stubble. Every bit the perfect rogue. She looked into his brown eyes; here too she could see her reflection.

Some day she would have to save up enough to buy a full-body veederm suit. But for now this was enough. She put one hand on Bradley's chest careful not to lean against something that wasn't really there. With the other hand she ran her fingers through his thick hair, the veederm giving her the impression of form.

"Water loving mammal – five letters." The nanny chewed on the end of the pencil, trying to concentrate. "Second letter 'T'. 24 down – needle opening." Her voice trailed off as she glanced over at Shadwick, the four-year-old she was babysitting. He had his back to the TV, and he seemed to be studying her heart-shaped, brown face. "Did you enjoy our trip to the museum today?" she asked, laying the book of EZ Crosswords on the coffee table.

Shadwick smiled broadly, but said nothing, as usual.

There was the slamming of the back door. "I'm home," shouted Cheryl Lambert, a sack of groceries hitting the table. "Supper smells good!"

The nanny went in to the kitchen to help her employer put away the food.

"Shadwick and I went to the museum again today. He seems so happy there."

"What does he look at?" asked the mother, flipping off her low heeled shoes.

"He really likes this one old book there – the small plaque in front says Voynich – but it's opened to a center page, so I don't know if that's the title or the author." The nanny handed Cheryl a can of spaghetti sauce.

Cheryl began shouting in a sing-song tone: "Shaddy, honey, you need to wash your hands." The mom glanced through the door and was surprised to see her son drawing on Rachel's crossword puzzles. The boy stood up and quickly headed into the bathroom.

The mother picked up the book and handed it to her nanny. "I'm sorry if he drew on your book…"

"No, no, look at this! He worked out the puzzle I had started and half of the next one as well!"

As the tiny child reappeared, the women were totally silent, not knowing what to say.

The man in the white lab coat approached Cheryl with a broad smile. They both began to watch Shadwick as he joyously solved one puzzle after another. "He's amazing, really. We've had him working on crosswords since he came out of the MRI. He seems to start with a clue in the middle, then work outward, as if he's just using how the words are connected and the number of letters required to solve them."

"He's always been so quiet and withdrawn."

"Einstein didn't speak until he was four."

"Did the brain scan show anything?"

The doctor took Cheryl aside, leaving the delighted child to his puzzle books. "According to the initial scans, your son has a rare condition known as Duex Cerveau – literally 'two minds'."

"You mean like a split personality?"

"No, no. He has two completely different mind signatures living inside one brain. Imagine two Einsteins in one skull. Fantastic! Has he shown any interest in books before?"

Cheryl thought for a moment. "There was a book at the museum at Harvard – Maybe Voyner…or Voy…"

"Voynich? The Voynich Manuscript?" He stepped over to a counter and picked up his iPad. He drew up an image and took it over to the child who grabbed the device, rushing from page to page.

Over the next five months, it would appear to Cheryl that she had lost her son, as he withdrew into the document on the screen, studying it for hours, only looking away from it long enough to eat and sleep.

Cheryl Lambert had arranged the seats in her front room facing one wall, as if a child were performing a simple play he had made up over the course of an afternoon. The guests who occupied those dozen seats, however, were anything but ordinary. The scientific world had come knocking on her door – waiting eagerly to see what conclusions he would draw.

There was a definite hush in the room as the five-year-old boy took his place beside a computer in the front. Shadwick pushed a button and the PowerPoint presentation began, using a computer voice. "In the 1970s Prescott Currier postulated that the Voynich Manuscript was written by two people who were completely correlated. I believe my translation deviates only slightly in that I believe it was written by one person who was hardwired as I am – with two minds. That is why it has taken all these centuries for the document to be correctly translated. I first examined the Herbal portion of the manuscripts, in order to get an overall picture of the document. Some of these plants were indeed grown in Europe during the middle ages. However, the majority of these drawings were details of plants grown on this world certainly – but not on this world's time-space: in a separate dimension."

There were shocked expressions throughout the room as the boy made time for the outburst before continuing with the presentation. "The Voynich Manuscript was written between 1403 and 1417, but the question has remained: how did the author see the spiral Andromeda Galaxy two centuries before the invention of the telescope? Newbold's translation of the paragraph was correct: 'In a concave mirror I saw a star in the form of a snail.'"

"The author was actually caught up and transported to a land where the normal is what you call Duex Cerveau – where everyone has two minds. This condition has the advantage of seeing all things from at least two perspectives – which lessens conflict. In a world that had never known war, their science was much further advanced than we were. It leaves the question: in this other world, what advancements have been made during the last 600 years!

"There are pages in this document which provide a description of how this earlier Duex Cerveau travelled into this other world. The doorway is only open periodically and open only to we of a similar mind, which is why I chose to give my farewell speech tonight. I will return, but I know not when."

At this, the child began to fade before anyone could reach him, disappearing completely just before the words, "I love you mama – I'll see you soon," tumbled out of empty space.

"Let the dog out. I have to get to work early. Randy did you hear me? Randy!"

"Okay Mon—I'll put Old Smelly out."

"Don't call him smelly either!"

"Whatever—he needs a bath you know."

"Well, then when you get home from school you can just give him one!"

"It'll be the last bath he'll ever need!"

"Put him out now and make sure you let him in before you leave, got that!"

"Yeah -okay— whatever," Randy said.

Randy waited until his mom went upstairs, then opened the door to the side-yard and left Boozer—Old Smelly—out. Hope, Randy's mom, had enclosed the side-yard with a white- picket fence then planted a small garden in it. She was proud of her garden, and didn't want Boozer in it. But it was easier to let Boozer out into the side-yard because Randy didn't have to go out and tie Boozer up.

Once outside, Boozer looked up at Randy and said with his eyes, "I-Don't –Smell!'

With a sniff here and there, and the odors of rabbits or skunks not floating around the yard, Boozer sat and thought about life.

Every day they get up in the morning and put me outside. They say, "Did anyone let the dog out?" Boy you would think that by now they would have this morning routine down pat! But do they? Hell no.

You see, this all happened when they left me out earlier than usual in the morning in the side-yard! I decided to use the outside light-post for once—I never used it because I was always put out later and in the back yard. I always wanted to water the damned thing—you know how it is when you're a dog. Something sticking up in the yard just tempting me. Oh, well, that's history now.

When I got finished watering the light-post and lowering my leg, I heard a sizzling sound; then saw flashes of light, and then something bright surrounded the post from top to bottom! Sparks shot out from the top of the light-post and dissipated into the air. Then a halo around the post spread-out farther and engulfed me! I tried to run but my legs were going nowhere— like I was up in the air. I couldn't see the house anymore but heard Hope scream, "My god what the hell's that. Where's Boozer? Randy get Boozer!"

"Hey, I'm not going out into that!" Randy screamed. "Sparks are striking the light- post—look!"

One, after another, after another bolts of static electricity sizzled from the light-post and produced a swirling effect of colored lights, merging and dancing together and splitting apart as if the whole were the finale of the Eighteen Twelve Overture.

"Call 911!" Hope screamed. Randy called.

The yard started looking weird with things floating around—a squirrel running on all fours but up in the air—and even Boozer behind the squirrel moving his legs but not as fast as the squirrel's. The grass stood up like a punk-rock's hair, the flowers around the fence were dancing, and vegetables in the garden were smoking. And the crow that had landed for a snack? Well, did you ever see a crow fly upside-down around a light-post? Well, one is circling the light-post now, belly up!

"It's Electronic Fog!" Randy screamed.

"This is no time to joke around," Hope said.

"I heard about it on the History Channel!" Randy said.

Neighbors came out. Mr. Simmons yelled over, "I called the fire department!"

"Your poor dog —the poor thing! Can't you do something about it?" Mrs. Laymond said. "That's cruelty to animals!"

"I can't go out there," Hope said.

"Can't you try?" Mrs. Laymond said. Hope didn't return an answer.

A fire-lieutenant pulled up in front of the house and got out. And a fireman with him jumped out the other side. Sirens were following them and within a minute the fire trucks would be present.

The fog or cloud that engulfed the garden was centered over the light-post, and the light was flashing as sparks and now ball-lighting started to circle around the garden. Some balls of light sped off up into the sky while others danced along the fence or floated around the light-post.

A fire engine stopped, and then another, then an emergency vehicle and a police car.

Within a moment, a squad of firemen and two police officers were standing in a line only a couple feet away from the fence. The odor of ozone and burning grass and a sizzling sound greeted them. Their mouths open, their eyes wide, and their faces becoming caulk-white. Even the black firemen!

"Cut off the main breaker," George, a neighbor yelled who once worked in an electric generating station.

Without a moment's delay, one of the firemen ran into the house and pulled the breaker.

Outside, the sizzling and static electricity started to wane and the halo around the light-post dimmed more and more until it faded. Boozer and the squirrel floated down to the ground; the crow right-sided itself and flew away like a jet fighter taking off from an aircraft carrier.

All became quiet. And the firemen checked out the garden and especially the light-post.

"Look here," one fireman shouted to the lieutenant. "Looks like a mole or groundhog chewed the insulation off the wires. Whatever did it dug down to get the wires. Imagine that."

"That would not cause what happened!" the lieutenant said. "I don't know what the hell we witnessed here—but believe me, in all my years with the department this is the strangest.

Boozer ran into the house, and Hope grabbed him and said, "Are you okay boy? You look okay." She hugged him until he squirmed free.

Booze looked around and found Randy's eyes. "You really thought that was funny kid? Just wait until you're asleep. O boy, just wait until you're in dream-dream land," Boozer thought.

"OH breath of a thousand camels".

That's what she called me one morning.

"And you ain't no spring flower either," I said quickly moving out of her fists way.

"If you want to PLAY this morning you'll do something about that breath of yours, shave and freshen up. I can wait and I will bring things to a simmer while you're busy," she said, smiling, rolling onto her stomach.

Never one to say no to such an invitation I headed into the bathroom. I noticed the two new sonic style tooth brushes. My old battery operated one sat inside a coffee mug along with the stimulator and regular brush. The old one has a rotary head and a pulsing brush. It works just fine. The sonic brushes make a humming sound like a UFO in a sci-fi movie.

A creature of habit, I used my old one, shaved and quick showered as per her verbalized commands. After the games had been completed she said, "come on you fuddy-duddy, try the new ones I purchased."

"I tried it but I don't feel clean after using it," I said tongue in cheek. "Since I drink lots of coffee I sometimes mix baking soda with my nonfloride tooth paste."

"So try it your old way on the new one. You always want me to try new things." She giggled.

So why not, and I added a glop to the head, put it in my mouth and turned it on. The vibration I felt the first time, really a hum, is different with the soda. I felt a vibration through my entire skull. "What did you just say?" I asked her, my mouth foaming like a mad man.

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing? I heard you say something."

"I didn't say a thing. I was thinking about dinner."

"I must be crazy but I swear I heard you say something, about pizza, clear as day."

The next morning we were both getting ready for work. The aroma of fresh perked coffee drifted up to our suite from the kitchen below. She looked over at me, "well how did you like it?"

"Like what? We didn't do anything."

"The tooth brush, you idiot."

"I don't know I sort of like the old one."

"Give it time."

"Yeah whatever." I thought, first your rabbit, now a brush, what's next?

We're still in the bathroom; she's in her scanty undies brushing her teeth as I watch. She put the whole tooth brush in her mouth in a most provocative manner and looked at me.

I was thinking a quickie would be nice, and about all sorts of positions. I notice that she dipped the brush head into the soda. Her teeth are always sparkling. Why she needs that, I'll never know.

She looked at me in a strange fashion and said through a foamy dripping mouth, "Not gonna happen. Definitely not THAT!"

"What's not gonna happen? I didn't say a thing!"

"A quickie."

"I have to be at work, I have a meeting, and I'm clean."

"I never said that, and since when did that ever stop you," and I add, "before we were married?"

She flipped me a finger, the finger with the ring. "I got this," she said laughing hard.

I wondered. A quickie is not an unusual thing for me to suggest. "I guess I was hoping out loud," I responded. I knew I didn't.

The following morning we are both bent over our individual sinks brushing with the sonic brushes. She took my brush batteries and hid them. I dip mine in the soda. She mimics me. We begin to brush. I look at her, she looks at me. We both look at the brushes.

I rinse mine completely of toothpaste and soda and brush again. She slowly does the same, staring at me all the while.

I stop, add the paste and soda. She does it too. I brush, she brushes. We stop, toothpaste and soda dripping and foaming from our mouths like two mad dogs.

"What did you say," I ask.

"No, you first. What did you say?" she responds.

"I was wondering why you like that when you're so close to orgasm. Then I heard you say that…"

"It brings me higher, just that little push you do," she finishes my sentence.

I say out loud, "neither one of us said a thing. I though it, and you answered it. Something is very strange here. Where did you say you purchased these brushes?"

"I got them mail order. I saw an ad on the internet something about the best cleaning anywhere in the universe.

"The dentist said sonics work better."

"Well they do a hell of a lot more than clean that's for damned sure," I exclaimed. My old brush never did this. These don't do a thing with that toothpaste we use. But when we add the soda, the load on the motor changes the frequency and somehow, I'm guessing here, there's a chemical reaction tied to the frequency and the field of the motor that allows us to convey our thoughts to each other."

"Yeah, but only in the bathroom while we brush our teeth. A lot of good that will do," she says.

"Maybe that's a good thing." I quickly respond, adding, "We can transmit, but can we block? I'm sure we have private thoughts that are not meant for each other, no less anyone else. Could you imagine?"

"We could learn how," she says.

At breakfast we look at each other and I tell her, "I've been giving this brush stuff some thought. I'm not sure I want to practice mind control, or mind reading on you, or you on me. As much as I wish I could read your mind, I'm not sure I really want to, most of the time anyway."

She stands up, smiles and says, "Read This," as her dress slips to the floor.