Halloween and Other Seasons

Ahead of the Joneses

January 12

Today I’m a happy man, because the deliverymen installed my new abstract lawn sculpture. I had it set up on the property line, and I could swear that Harry Jones’s eyes bugged out when he saw it facing his front porch. The bastard’ll have to look at it every day as he leaves for work.

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January 30

When Jones called me over to see his new lawn sculpture today I had to hold myself back from strangling him in front of it. It’s a silver-plated job, twice the size of mine and with twice as many artsy features. And on top of the fact that he had the nerve to buy the thing, the son-of-a-bitch had it mounted on his side of the property line, looming over my lawn sculpture. I put on an appreciative grin as he showed it to me, but we both knew what I was thinking…

~ * ~

February 16

Today I called one of Harry’s kids over to take a picture of him and his friends with my brand-new holo-camera. Gave little Robby an instant print (gave each of his friends one too!) and I just know the kid ran home to show Harry and ask how come they don’t have a holo-camera. I could just visualize Harry yelling at the little lout and telling him to shut his mouth about holo-cameras. Made me feel warm inside all day.

~ * ~

February 21

Harry called this afternoon to tell me about the great buy he got on a holo-moviecamera and to invite Sheila and me and the kids over to help them make their first full-length film. Of course I told him we couldn’t make it, but the bastard had little Robby run over later with a print. An hour’s worth of color film, with sound—self-projecting cartridge too. Just need an empty space to project it in. I projected it into the garbage, of course; it burns hell out of me that a jerk like that who can’t be making any more money than me could afford something like that. Of course there have been a lot of sales on holo-moviecameras lately, and the prices have come down a bit. It’s the fact that he just has to do me one better that makes me feel so rotten…

~ * ~

June 17

Eat your heart out, Harry Jones! The workmen turned on the juice today and left, and I must admit they did quite a job. There can’t be anyone in the whole county, never mind this block, with a complete amusement arcade like mine in his backyard. And I mean complete. Everything from high-reality-level ride simulator to holographic clowns (4-color, yet!) to a changeable-program fireworks grid to close out the evening light spectacle. The guy at the department store started to give me his whole spiel about how I was getting in on the ground floor of a new revolution in home entertainment and how the prices would never be this low again (I don’t see how they could get much higher; luckily, I did have a few dollars put away for my kids’ college educations) but I didn’t let him finish, I just signed the contract and slapped down the advance payment. He threw in the rifle range, no charge, but if he hadn’t I would have ordered one anyway. I know how much Harry likes to target shoot on weekends.

~ * ~

June 28

God help me, and I’m a religious man, but I almost went over and murdered him today. I’m calmer now, but the initial shock of coming home from a short business trip to find the finishing touches being put to Jones’s outdoor 3-D theater, set on top of his domed vapor-pool, and all of that resting on top of his automated midget racer track and micro golf course (combined with a good-sized arcade and target-shoot in one corner, floating six feet above the ground) was just a bit much. After a couple of hours I stopped trembling. I thought I could cheer myself up tonight by programming a light show, but Jones’s heat-lightning extravaganza left the blinking lights in my backyard about a thousand feet below.

I’m desperate.

~ * ~

November 11

Every last penny I’ve got is gone; Sheila’s run away with the kids—but none of that matters. After five months I’ve finally found a research assistant in one of the large consumer appliance companies who could be bought, and I know—I’m positive, because I checked everything out thoroughly—that what I now hold in my hands is absolutely the only one (and therefore the best!) of its kind in the world. The guy I bribed (he wouldn’t even tell me his name, the weasel—he looked like he needed the money, though) said this thing’s the ultimate consumer device—that it can make all kinds of alterations in the space/time fabric of the universe, that it can do almost anything! He almost chickened out at the last minute, claiming the thing was dangerous and hadn’t really been tested (it was under lock and key when he took it); he also mumbled something about it “blowing a fuse and throwing the Earth back into the Paleozoic Era.” I think he was worried about getting caught; anyway, when he saw the amount of money I had for him, and the gun in my hand, he shut up and took the bribe fast enough; so much for his scruples. I‘m standing here on my front lawn now, facing Jones’s house, and as soon as the son-of-a-bitch (I know he’s in there now with his Yellow Pages viewscreen, putting in hologram calls to every store in the state, trying to order a better model of what I’ve got—or at least to find out what it is) shows his face I’m going to throw the switch. I don’t know what will happen, but whatever it is, no one can outdo it! I’ve beat you, Jones! Is that his face at the window? Yes! And now—

~ * ~

November 14, 400,000,000 B.C.

I move rock. Big rock. Slimy hands mine, and have dirt in mouth. Crawl up from sea. Wet sea. Now on dirt. Hard work to breathe, but I work. I stay on dirt now, for good.

Move rock. Nice rock, smooth on one side, flat on other side. Cool under rock, hide from Sun. Live under rock, on cool dirt. Nice.

I happy.

Other me crawl up from sea to dirt. I watch. He work breath, hard, for long time, and almost turn back to sea, but he stay. He look at me, under rock.

Now he move rock, other rock, bigger, more smooth on one side. Is bigger under, more cool. He move rock next to mine and crawl under, out of Sun. He look at me for a long time.

I mad.