I. Earthquake II. Garnet Molar III. Music

I. Earthquake
In my father's house, the telephone rings. A pre-recorded message a la telemarketing, "This is Linda from Brilliant Systems. I'm calling to inform you.... EARTHQUAKE." I am so scared but just barely manage to mouth the word. A dull roar "Earthquake!" All present crouch, the rumble takes my insides and pulverizes every soft part. Brain jellies in its shell.
I hold my skull with both hands tightly.
The quake continues for another 70 second eternity.
No one is left.
I inspect the damage to the house. Walls split in half, floorboards cracked apart. The house is about to fall in two equal parts. I think, the earth breaking, and the epicenter is my father's house? Of all places...
I find my father on the ground floor, tearing away at the point of breakage. He's throwing floorboards aside to uncover the fissure in the earth. I warn him not to disturb the earth further.. we could fall in and die.
He tells me not to worry.
We uncover the great crevice, ore gleaming like newly cut fool's gold from the fists of the planet.

II. Garnet Molar

Traffic is stopped on the highway. There's been a great discovery in the ditches lining the road: a mile stretch of cardboard boxes. I inspect the line, accompanied by another who is at times a small girl friend from my childhood and at other times Jor. The boxes hold skulls, bones and some clothes.
Some skulls so old they looked rusted. Some flattened, some crushed. Bones are mingled in no order. I wonder if this is one killer, or a collector? The girl and I curl feet over cardboard ledges, catlike. My body has become small and light, like a child.
I want to take a bone back to my lover as a souvenir of this adventure, but they all seem too large to steal. Jor pulls oversize hideous Christmas sweaters out of occasional boxes and grinning heinously, sneers, 'We'll be needing this one.'
I reach the end of the cardboard mile. Identical bones have bored me. The very last box, however, holds only jawbones. Fillings, gold teeth, bridges, then deeper into a smal box are special single teeth, some made of precious or semi-precious stone.
The turquoise, garnet and rough emerald are perfect sized treasure. I select a large gleaming garnet, in the shape of a wisdom tooth. This will be his present.

III. Music
I'm briefly onstage with my violin, wrapping up a set with a large band and some variety of boyfriend. Jim Waive is to follow us, solo, with his guitar. He walks off stage and sits in a corner. Electric artful tones escape his instrument for a moment, and he turns off the electricity. Beautiful acoustic sounds follow, a dark and stormy experiment with cowboy motives, Jim's characteristic thumb pounding technique, and impulsive improvisation. I am spellbound by the new music, ever knowing Jim could make strange art if he ever wanted to. I reel with delight afterwards, thanking him.