Chapter 2 - Out of the Frying Pan

She was blond and stacked, my two favorite things in a woman. She walked slowly towards me, her hips swinging from side to side. Her breasts danced in the sunlight, nipples brown against her skin as I reached out to take her in my arms. Her luscious red lips inched closer; they brushed against me, sending shivers of lust through my body. I held her tightly, pressing her mouth against mine. Our tongues intertwined in the most passionate kiss I have ever had.

Suddenly, my mouth began to fill with grit and this sharp pain started shooting down my side. My beautiful blonde was walking away. Desperately, I leaped to catch her and woke up face down, with a mouth full of sand and a small girl of about six standing beside me, digging her bare feet into my side.

"Quit that," I mumbled spitting sand, as I tried to roll over and get my bearings. It took a few minutes for my mind to remember what had happened, then a few more to convince myself it really did happen. My head felt as big as a
watermelon in July. Shaking it gently to get rid of some of the cobwebs, I sat up and took a look around. The girl, still standing next to me, staring at me as if I was going to turn into a monster or something. Thankfully she was keeping her feet to herself, so I ignored the little urchin and studied the rest of my surroundings.

In front of me was the ocean, of course, and to either side of me the beach went on for as far as I could see from this position. Behind me was a very dark and nasty looking forest. The kind with vines and creepers running everywhere, so that you can't see more than six feet in before it turns completely black. It did not look like a place I would have chosen to visit. Why couldn't I have landed someplace with a Hilton or even a Motel 6? Better yet, maybe this is a dream.

A guy can hope can't he?

Okay, so it wasn't a dream. I was here, somehow, some way, I was here, wherever here was. It was time to get the old trusty thinking pile working and find a way to get somewhere else . . . If ole Pete was right and God was playing here, he obviously did not want me to intrude and since God ranks over an Angel, I thought I should just build a signal fire and wait here on the beach to be rescued. A boat or plane had to pass over the island eventually, and my return pass into Heaven hadn't survived the dunking, so what did it matter if I helped the Angels or not? The bottom line was I didn't want to play with a God who was playing on this island with that nasty forest.

I could always fish while I was waiting to be rescued, and there had to be fresh water somewhere close or the forest wouldn't be here. Of course, I suppose God could have put in the forest without the help of fresh water, but I sure hoped he hadn't. No, I couldn't allow myself to think about things like that.

"I'm a survivor, I am going to survive, I am going to be rescued." I repeated this three times trying to make myself believe it, just like they tell you to on the psychobabble cable channel. It's a trick to build your self esteem, whatever that is.

With my important decisions made, I needed to stand up and look for some wood. I did try, but every time I managed to get to my feet, I would get dizzy and fall back down, which wasn't helping the headache I had going already. Now the little girl was laughing at me, pointing her finger while standing up and falling down. In short, making fun of me. I guess she thought I was joking around or something.

I looked at her and calmly asked, "Just who the hell are you?" Well, maybe not so calmly. I was a tad upset, to put it politely. I hadn't asked to be here and I was sure that there was someone more qualified to help the A.A.C. than little ole me. There was probably even someone out there who actually wanted too.

I had never done anything special or exciting in my life. I was wishing at that exact moment that I was still sitting on my rickety old porch drinking beer and throwing sticks for Digger to retrieve, or flying in good old Betty, spraying poison across the fields. I briefly wondered what had happened to Digger in the storm, and hoped he was still okay. I didn't want to think about Betty. She was the love of my life and my paycheck. I would have to find a real job if she was hurt.

Betty was an old blue Stearman Bi-plane. One of the best damned planes ever made. They even had a cool nickname, "The Yellow Peril." This was because they were known to be kinda flaky on landing and because the army painted them all yellow. Part of what I liked about her was that you never knew just how you were going to get down. I never wanted to come down.

I would ride the winds over the fields pretending I was Snoopy, having a fight with the Red Baron. When I let out the dust, I would pretend I had been shot. I had to be careful because sometimes I would forget what I was doing and let out too much dust. Farmers get really nasty when they can't grow anything for 20 years after I've sprayed their fields.

My brother Bubba painted a picture of Snoopy and his doghouse on the side of the plane, complete with bullet holes and everything. You're probably wondering why I named her Betty rather than Snoopy. Well, that's in remembrance of Betty Sue McIntyre who was the first to ever let me . . . er . . . well, you know.

Anyway, back to my story. The girl on the beach looked at me blankly for a moment, her hands perched on her little hips, her head cocked to the left. She looked as if she were deciding some great question, or maybe just trying to figure out what answer to give me. Then she smiled a huge toothy grin, the kind that only little kids can have, and spoke.

"I am a Nymph, can't you tell?" Her voice was terribly high pitched and nasal, like a valley girl from Hell. It hurt my ears, not to mention my head. "Didn't the moss green hair give it away? I live in the forest mainly because I live in a tree, or I am the tree, however you want to look at it and I am here to take you to G.O.D. I am his Most Trusted Nymph today."

She reeled off her little speech at a speed that would make an auctioneer proud, she was jumping up and down and twirling in circles. I was getting dizzy again just watching her, and my head was pounding in tune to her voice, as she went on. "I am very lucky you showed up when you were supposed to or G.O.D might not have been very happy with me or with you. He can be a very demanding G.O.D. So get up off your fat butt and let's move it out. We have a long trip through the forest."

I don't know why she thought she could fool me. It's not like moss green hair is all that unusual today, though hers was a bit stringier and greener than most. She must have thought I had just fallen off the turnip truck if she thought I was going to believe she was a Nymph.

I was still wondering, "What the hell is a Nymph, anyway?" I had heard about them in legends and stories, but they were always so vague. I did recall that Nymphs had something to do with trees, but I couldn't remember what. If she hadn't been so young I might have thought she meant nympho, which was certainly something I could believe in, even if I had never had the pleasure of meeting one. I decided to play along like I knew what she was talking about.

"A Nymph, right!" I scoffed indignantly. "And I am the Jolly Green Giant. Get real. There are no such things as Nymphs. You look like a typical spoiled brat to me. Where are your parents, little girl? Maybe they can help me get off this God-forsaken island," I sputtered, trying to get the last of the sand out of my mouth.

At that moment, when the sand I had blown was grazing the top of my finest set of boots, a large lightening bolt, no a really huge, no make that the biggest damn lightening bolt I have ever seen in my entire life, came crashing into the beach taking out a tree behind me, causing it to fall just inches from where I sat. I jumped up and tried to run, but didn't get two wobbly steps before a deep angry voice came bellowing out of the forest. I tried to become part of the forest, standing as still as I could and hoping that the voice would go away, along with whoever it belonged to.

"He who takes my name in vain shall be hurtled off the tallest mountain of my island," the voice bellowed again, as an old craggy-looking man with a long beard and flowing robes appeared before me.

"Was it you, young man?" he asked as he walked up to me, jabbing at my chest with his index finger. None too gently, I might add. I stood there bouncing off his finger going, "Huh?"

It's an instinct I have when there's trouble. If you act dumb, they sometimes leave you alone. Kinda like playing dead for a bear so he won't eat you. There was also the fact that I couldn't quite make out what he was saying through the ringing in my ears. I did, however, catch the words, "Prepare to die!" as he raised his hands over me into the air.

Not again, I only had three days left as it was. Wasn't dying once a day enough for these people? Since I figured there was no chance of getting a reprieve twice in one day, I resorted to the old fashioned way of trying to avert my demise. I plopped down on my knees and started praying. I prayed like I'd a never prayed before, wishing my ticket back to heaven wasn't a pile of wet mush.

I kept my eyes closed, repeating every prayer I had ever learned over and over, hoping for forgiveness, hoping to live long enough to have my next beer. My life was flashing before me in a blur.

After about 5 minutes, (I only know 2 prayers and my life hadn't been that exciting), I opened one eye and peeked. Now there was only the little girl in front of me, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes as she rolled back and forth on the sand.

"Boy, did you screw up, Buddy. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to swear?" she laughed even harder.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You just go ahead and laugh. It's not like I asked to be here or anyone gave me a rule book. How was I supposed to know he would be so touchy?" I asked, staring at the still-burning firewood that used to be a tree. This called for a re-evaluation of the situation.

"Okay, so I'm on God's island and you're a Nymph. Which, by the way, I still find hard to believe, but since I don't know in your case what a Nymph really is, I guess I will have to take your word for it. The only Nymphs I've ever known
were girls like Dona and Brandy from high school. You know, the ones who never learned how to say no and are real popular with all the guys? I guess I shouldn't be talking to a little girl like you about that kind of stuff."

The little ankle lizard gave me a very creepy smile and said, "I'm much older than you think, boy, and you have a lot to learn." I had no clue what this was supposed to mean, so I ignored it. My main concern at this point was that very unfriendly looking forest that I had no interest in going into.

"Do I really have to go through that forest? I don't like trees or vines or those small creatures everyone else seems to think are so cute. Are you sure there's no bears or wild boars, goblins, gremlins, or ogres?" I asked with no small amount of fear in my voice. The forest looked like the den of some evil sorcerer to me. I tried to share my misgivings with the brat, but she didn't seem to care. "I would expect to find demons in a forest like this, not God," I continued. "You are such a wimp!" she said, rolling her eyes at me. "I don't know why G.O.D. picked you of all people. There had to be someone better for the task. Even the woman wasn't as gutless as you are."

"Woman? What woman?" I asked, my ears and spirits perking. A woman at the end would at least give me something to look forward to after this trek through jungle hell. Maybe she would be a good looking woman who would be forever grateful to me for finding her and taking her back to the real world. Grateful women are my favorite kind, not that I've had a lot of personal experience with them.

"You'll find out when G.O.D thinks you're ready. Now come along. It's a long trip and I'm hungry," she quipped before turning and walking towards the forest. "Oh yeah, so am I, but then I am always hungry. What do Nymphs eat anyway?" I asked trying to make a little friendly conversation as I dragged myself to my feet brushing the sand from my jeans. My head was beginning to clear, but the body was still in serious pain and I walked slowly, following her into the trees. She never answered my question, just kept walking deeper and deeper into the forest, making me hobble faster to keep up.

She made it look soooo easy. Everything in the path seemed to move out of the way as she walked by. Too bad it all jumped back onto the path by the time I got there. They were out to get me, all the things I hated: the thick green vines which tried to strangle me, the dead, molded-over tree stumps which made me fall more than once, and all those stupid furry little critters. I was wishing I had my shotgun, although it wouldn't have been much sport since they all lined up along the path and watched as we walked by. I wouldn't of had time anyway, since I was spending every minute trying to slap away the bugs that were eating me alive and trying to watch where I walked at the same time.

After falling for the fifth or sixth time and ripping two holes in the knees of my brand new jeans, I decided I deserved a rest and laid there in the middle of the path where I had fallen, breathing heavily, trying to get my wind back. I was a hoping that it would take Miss Nymph a while to notice I was gone so I could get a decent break, but no such luck. I barely had the annoying critters shooed away and my butt back on the earth before the little wench walked up and kicked me in the shin.

"Get up, you lazy heathen. We're only half way there and I'm getting hungrier," she growled. "You don't want to be around me when I get real hungry and can't feed. It is not a pretty sight." "I'll bet," I replied sarcastically, sinking myself even further into the ground. I wasn't going to allow myself to be bossed around by some underage twit. I'm the man here.

"Look, Nymph, I know you are hungry, but you won't tell me what you eat so I can't help you look for food. My feet are killing me. These boots of mine are definitely not made for walking and I need a break. It's not like I am asking for an hour. Just give me 10 minutes and I'll be ready to go again. How much farther, anyhow?"

"You fool!" she shrieked in a voice that sounded much older than she could possibly be, losing all traces of the valley girl accent. "You don't understand how serious this is." Now she was poking me in the chest right where the old man had, but her nails were much sharper. She was beginning to draw blood. "I have to get you back before dark and we only have an hour left. If I don't get you there on time I will have failed my mission, and I won't get to be Most Trusted Nymph of the Day ever again. Not only that, but if I don't return before night fall I will have to feed wherever I am and I want to be home!"

With one last painful poke, she dropped down beside me and began to cry. Huge crocodile tears started rolling from her little eyes, accompanied by the required sniffling and snorting. I hate it when girls cry. It is one of those things I have never been able to defend myself against. The ex used to get away with a lot by using tears. Hell, she cried during the divorce and talked me out of everything I owned. She even got my baseball card collection and she was the one who had been fooling around, so she shouldn't have gotten a damn thing. But, like I said, tears are just something I can't fight. So, I gathered my tired abused body together and stood up, dragging the whimpering whelp with me.

"Come on," I said starting down the path. "Since this is so important to you, I guess I've had enough of a break. Wipe that slime off your face and let's get going. No, not on my jeans! That's disgusting. An hour you say? Even I can last one more hour." I didn't want to be in this forest after dark, anyway. I was still sure something lived there that could eat me

"Could we at least talk ? Silence and me don't go together real well," I begged her as she walked in front of me, once again charging through the forest. "Maybe you could tell me how you get through this mess so easily? I'm positive these trees are trying to kill me."

The Nymph stopped in mid-step and almost made me fall again. Then she turned towards me and held up her arms to be picked up. She looked so much like a little kid I did what came naturally and grabbed her up like I would any six year old. She wrapped her legs around my waist and started hugging and kissing me. At first her kisses were chaste. The next thing I knew she had her tongue in my mouth giving as good as she got. It only lasted a moment, but she sure didn't kiss like any of the little girls I know. My blood was up and moving again in no time. As soon as she pulled her mouth from mine, I set her back down on the ground, still shaking from the feelings of lust and now ashamed of myself for
abusing a child.

"Thank you so very, very much," she said as she started walking again, slower this time, which made me happy. Her tears had been replaced by an impish smile that lit up her face. "I knew you were a kind soul and wouldn't make me sleep in the forest tonight. Maybe G.O.D did pick well. As for how I walk through the forest so fast, you must understand that this is the last place on this planet where everything is truly alive like it was in the beginning. The trees here can tell how you feel about them and they treat you accordingly." At this, she fixed me with a stare that seemed to say all my trials were my own fault, then she prattled on.

"If you think of them as friends they will let you pass, and you should consider them friends, because some of them are related to me and if you don't like them then how can you possibly like me? All you keep thinking about is how horrible they are. How do you think that makes me feel, knowing that you hate my Aunt Maple, who we passed along the way?" she asked in her snippy valley girl voice.

I turned around looking behind me, wondering which of these trees could be her Aunt Maple and how she could possibly know what I was thinking. Probably one of those that tripped me, I thought as I tumbled over yet another outstretched root. Momma had tried to sign me up for dance lessons when I was a kid. She thought it might help me gain some sense of balance, but dad said she wasn't allowed to turn his boy into a sissy. That day I was wishing I had taken the dance lessons, instead of just fishing and drinking beer with Pop.

"You see," she went on as she gave me a hand up and continued her walk, "the trees are trying to live up to your expectation of reality. You think they are cruel and evil so they become cruel and evil. Try thinking nice thoughts about them. Say to yourself, The forest is my friend. The trees and animals are here to keep me safe, instead of just cursing at them in your head," she finished, staring up at me as I if were the child and she the Great Teacher.

It sounded like more psychobabble to me, but I closed my eyes and tried to replace my current vision of the forest in which the vines were wrapping themselves around my body, then dragging me into the treetops for the carnivorous birds to pluck out my eyes and pick my bones clean, with a scene from ABambi.@ You know the one; sunlight filtering through the trees, the little deer scampering with their friends, bunnies with butterflies on their noses. It was hard, very hard, especially when my mind kept putting Elmer Fudd and his rifle in the picture aiming straight for Bambi, but somehow I managed. When I finally opened my eyes, there was a path before me, empty of slithering vines and sunlight filtering through the trees tops to light my way.

"Man, this really works, Little Nymph," I said, totally amazed at the transformation. "I guess negative thinking really is a bad thing."

"I told you so," she replied with a smile as she increased her pace through the forest. "By the way, my name is not Little Nymph. It is Cyan Birch."

"Pleased to meet you Miss Cyan of the formerly evil forest," I said gallantly. I would have bowed to this cute little snippet, but then I might have fallen again and my knees couldn't take any more. "My name is Jordan Hunter of Manchester, Oklahoma. Now, why don't you tell me all about this island and how God knew I was coming. I thought St.
Peter sent me here on his own?"

"Well, Jordan, there is not much to tell. G.O.D lives here and he knows everything about everyone. You should remember that, should you decide to lie to him when we get home."

"Me? Lie to God? Do I look like the type of person who would do something like that?" I asked, my face a picture of innocence.

Once again I heard the voice booming through the trees, only this time it wasn't angry. It was laughing at me.

"Never lie to me? You're lying now. What about that time when you were six and you prayed to me and said you were sorry for shooting the cat with your pellet gun? You know you liked it, and that poor cat was never the same."

"Wait a minute God," I cried. "Let me explain, please? That cat deserved it. She kept shitting in my favorite baseball glove. All my buddies called me Stinky for years."

"I never said the cat didn't deserve it, Jordan. "I said you lied to me."

"Alright, already," I cried, stopping in the middle of the path. "I hereby solemnly swear to you, God, that I will never, ever lie to you again for the rest of my life."

I made my oath in the proper manner, holding my right hand over my heart, using my most sincere voice. I figured it would be an easy promise to keep since the world was going to be over in three days, according to St. Peter. Even I could tell the truth for that long. But just in case I had my left hand behind my back, with fingers crossed.

"Remember, Jordan," the rumbling voice said before leaving, "never make promises you can't keep." The voice was laughing as it faded away into the tree tops. The rest of the walk through the forest was rather uneventful. It was a much more pleasant place to be, now that nothing was trying to kill me. Cyan and I managed to arrived at our destination much sooner than I expected.