Johnny Boy held the seeds in his hand; they were heavier than he expected. Perhaps, they were the weight of dreams, although dreams should be lighter than material things.
“What on earth was that clown doing with these seeds? A conman, for sure, but not a very clever one.” Johnny threw them into the air, and they blew like bullets in every direction, landing on the cracked soil and driving into the ground. It was too late for a new life; too late to watch green things grow; and there is nothing worse than too late. Johnny walked the plow track back to the barn. “If only there was rain; if only my livestock hadn’t died; if only my wife was here; if only, if only…”
Johnny sat down on his bunk and filled a cup of yellow water. He would move on from this place in the morning, the way most of the town had moved on. He would be a sailor on the high seas or a wanderer in the desert, living between civilizations. Those minutes and moments before his sleep were his only reprieve; they were the seconds that counted, no matter how wealthy or well-off he was. And Johnny fell asleep.
In the morning, there was thunder, there was rain, a river was flowing into his house.
“Johnny, wake up!” His wife shouted. “This farm is going to go underwater, in half-an-hour.”
But then, the rain stopped, almost as soon as it started. “You…you died,” Johnny said.
“What are you talking about?” His wife asked.
“The clown was for real.” Johnny walked out of his house into a brand-new day. The dirt was moist; it had sucked in an ocean of water.
“I’ve got to go into town.”
“But wait, Johnny? Don’t you want some breakfast, first?”
Johnny left without looking at her—his real wife, never made him breakfast. The clown was clowning around in his head and he had to set the crookedness strait.
When he finally got there, the place was eerie, not a ghost town, but alive and empty.
“Is there anybody here,” Johnny Boy asked in a normal voice. His words carried, louder, than they should’ve been.
“I’m here,” the clown said. “How are those seeds working out for you?”
“I think you know how they’re working out for me,” Johnny Boy said.
“Oh,” the clown acted surprised. “I always guarantee, they’ll do what they do.”
“I didn’t ask for them.”
“But you planted them; true is true,” the clown said.
“What are you about?” Johnny Boy asked.
“I don’t take your meaning.”
“The seeds. Why did you pollute my land and my head with them?”
To be continued…