"The Crystal A"( MF mc )[1/2]  

Section A:

     I found the crystal while I was walking the dog, waiting for him to 
finish his joyous sniffing around the stop sign at the corner.     

     It was lying in the gutter like a shard from a broken beer bottle.  I 
was about to move on, leash in my hand, when a certain flash of light 
caught my eyes.  It was a brownish amber in colour, but had something else 
about it that was a trifle unusual;  it seemed to glow from the inside.  I 
bent down to pick the thing up, and brought the arrowhead-shaped item up to 
my face to look at it.  Yes, it was definitely glowing, and was warm in my 
hand.  With an audible, "Hmm...", I pocketed it and finished walking back 
to my one-bedroom house.    

     I went to work the next day with the crystal in my coat pocket, and 
completely forgot about it, until lunchtime.  When I sat down at my usual 
table at Ziggy's Deli, I ordered a coffee, then lit up a smoke.  Within a 
minute, the power-suited businessman sitting next to me glared at me and 
spoke up.    

     "Hey, don't you know you can't smoke in here?"   

     "Pardon me?"  I felt suddenly self-conscious and took a puff.    

     "Put that thing out! There's a non-smoking bylaw.  You're not allowed 
to smoke in here!"   

     I hadn't heard;  not one to follow the news, there could have been a 
military takeover of the government, and I wouldn't have been any the 
wiser.  Basically, I just wanted to leave the world alone, and let it leave 
me alone as well.  That's why I see a shrink once a week.  But whether or 
not I wanted to, I was going to have to deal with this.    

     "I'm sorry, I'll put it out, okay?"  I wasn't sorry;  deep down I 
wanted to throttle the supercilious creep, but I looked around for an 
ashtray to stub the cigarette out and, finding none, reached into my 
pocket, meaning to grab a piece of foil from the cigarette package as a 
makeshift ashtray.    

     Instead, my hand closed over the crystal, and I almost jerked my hand 
out of my pocket, it felt so warm.  I winced, and looked at the guy 
apologetically.    

     What I saw in his face was unexpected, to say the least.  His harshly 
disapproving look had disappeared, and instead his face had a pleasantly 
relaxed, benevolent expression that shocked me for its placidity.  "S-
sorry.  I'll go put it out in the bathroom."    

     I started to stand up, but he put a friendly hand on my arm, and said, 
"Oh, there's no need to do that.  I can tell you're really enjoying that 
smoke, so why don't you just finish it? Take your time!" Then he sat 
looking at me with that friendly puppy-dog expression on his face.    

     "Uh -- Okay, yeah.  Thanks."    

     I couldn't believe this was happening;  guys like that usually took 
great pleasure in pushing people around, especially people like me who had 
"self esteem problems", and "can't believe in themselves", as my lovely 
psychiatrist, Dr.  Wilkinson would put it.  In any case, I took advantage 
of the guy's change of heart, sat down and finished my smoke, then had my 
supper.    

     After I'd finished eating, the guy even told me to go ahead, have a 
cigarette, but I had to get back to work, so I left, with my mind reeling.    

     It didn't take me long to figure out that the crystal, or some 
combination of myself and the crystal, had been responsible for the 
businessman's attitude adjustment.  I was worried that I'd done something 
permanent to the guy's brain, but when I saw him on my coffee break chewing 
out a waiter for bringing him a tepid cup of cappuccino, I knew that 
whatever happened while I held the crystal was not permanent.  And so, my 
conscience clear, I decided to do a bit of "experimenting".    

     I didn't have to wait long;  I needed to ask my boss, Mr.  Grimsby, if 
I could leave early on Friday, in order to keep an appointment I had with 
Dr.  Wilkinson.  Normally, our sessions were arranged for after working 
hours, but this time it couldn't be done;  I had to see her at 2:30 on 
Friday, or not at all this week.  I was on the verge of cancelling the 
appointment, but the incident at lunch prompted me to try "working 
something out" with Grimsby.  So, making sure I had the crystal in my 
trouser pocket, I went to his office, and knocked on the door.    

     "Come!" I almost bailed out right there, but something made me go on, 
despite the butterflies in my stomach.  Opening the door, I walked quietly 
in to the sanctum sanctori.    

     "Mr Grimsby? May I speak with you for a moment, sir?"   

     He looked up from his desk, the light from the desk lamp shining off 
his polished pate.  "Well, what can I do for you today, Mr.  Fenton?".  He 
placed his hands behind his head, gazing at me with narrowed eyes, waiting 
to pounce.  I put my hand into my pocket, and grasped the crystal.  It was 
burning hot.    

     Grimsby's position didn't change, but his facial expression appeared 
to changed ever so subtly, from one of feral sarcasm, to one of avuncular 
sincerity.  I made the plunge.    

     "Um -- I was wondering, sir -- er -- if I could leave early on Friday;  
I have a doctor's appointment."    

     He sat back for a moment, looking at me.  Damn, I thought to myself.  
This isn't going to work! I was all set to accept his "No!", when he 
grinned at me, and said, "Sure, Fenton! Don't worry about it.  In fact, why 
don't you take the whole day off.  Take a rest, eh?"   

     "Well -- sure, great! Are you sure, sir?"   

     "Of course I am, son! You've been looking a little peaked lately, and 
I think it would be good for you to take an extra day off and have a long 
weekend.  At full pay, of course!" Then he stood up and came around his 
desk, put his arm around me, and walked me back out into the main office.  
"Now, why don't you take off a little early today;  I'll finish up your 
books!"  He was joviality personified, and I was a little taken aback.    

     "B-but..."    

     "Go on, son.  You've been working too hard.  Go on home, have a beer, 
and relax! And that's an order!" And to my astonishment, he winked at me, 
looking for all the world like a short, bald, beardless Santa Claus!   

     I took his order with a stiff upper lip, and left the office.  I also 
took a piece of his advice, and headed directly to Wile E.  Coyote's, my 
favourite watering hole, and ordered a cold one from Vicki, the day 
waitress.  She's a cute, chirpy girl of about my own age, mid-twenties, 
about five-two, with big brown eyes, short straight black hair, and a 
perpetual grin.  I've known her for three years, and I consider her a 
friend;  I hope she feels the same way about me.  She's not the brightest 
of people (or pretends not to be, I sometimes suspect), but seems to have 
that talent of coming up with the right remark for the right occasion.  In 
other words, perfectly suited to her job as a bartender.    

     "Hey there, Fenton.  You're here early!"  She bustled over to wipe the 
bar top in front of me, bending over just enough for me to see a little 
cleavage down  her sky-blue tank top.  She has smallish but perfectly 
rounded breasts, and the sight of them bobbing around slightly reminded me 
how horny I've been lately.  I shifted in my chair slightly, to relieve a 
sudden discomfort.

     "Yeah.  The boss let me go early today.  Says I've been working too 
hard."    

     She stopped for a moment, cocking her head pertly.  "That doesn't 
sound like old man Grimsby.  What'd you do, drug him?"   

     I smiled a little, caressing the outside of my pocket, feeling the 
shape and warmth of the item inside.  No, not yet.  "Something like that.  
What's on tap today, Vicky?"   

     She smiled sweetly, arousing me even more.  "You're in luck today.  
Your favourite, Old Nick."    

     "All right! I'll have a pint.  In a frosty mug."    

     She beamed at me, showing just a hint of moist tongue behind lovely 
white teeth.  She turned around, and I watched the movement of her small, 
round behind as she walked over to the freezer to grab a mug.  She was 
wearing her usual uniform, tight faded blue jeans, and they clung to her 
like skin.  A graceful, barely visible curve of panty line ran from high on 
each hip across her buttocks, joining together as they disappeared into the 
mystical cleft of her ass.  God, I marvelled;  what I wouldn't give to see 
what she looked like in just those panties!  Idly, my hand reached into my 
pocket and closed over the crystal's hot, faceted surface.    

     Immediately, Vicky straightened, her back still to me.  She slowly 
turned around, an odd, confused look on her face.  Her lower jaw was 
slightly slackened, and her eyes looked unfocussed;  I noticed that her 
nipples pushed out sharply against the taut material of her tank top.  The 
girl stood there for a moment, looking adorably vulnerable, then seemed to 
remember what she was doing as she looked at the pint beer mug in her hand.  
She shook her head, then went to the taps and filled the mug with my 
favourite beer, a dark red, rich-looking liquid with a foamy head that 
overflowed the mug.  She quickly wiped it with her apron, walked over to me 
and put the beer down on a coaster by my right hand.    

     "You okay, Vicky?"   

     She looked at me for a second, then looked away, her face suddenly 
flaming red.  "H-huh? Oh, -- y-yeah, I'm fine.  I just felt a l-little 
funny there, for a second.  I'm okay now!" Then she giggled nervously, and 
went off to serve another customer.    

     Right then and there, I knew I had something incredibly powerful in my 
pocket;  I'd known intellectually what the thing could do, but I hadn't 
felt its raw power until now.  The realization gave me a sudden attack of 
vertigo, and I took a sudden large gulp of beer to bring me back to 
reality.  The alcohol surged into my system and produce a pleasant glow, 
but it was a familiar one, and I felt grounded again, to my immense relief.  
Like I said, all I wanted was a quiet life, to be left alone and not bother 
anyone;  I had no desire to become an instant dictator.  Uh -- well, maybe 
I should rephrase that -- there were a few people I wouldn't mind taking 
down a few pegs, as evidenced by my experiments earlier in the day.    

     So for the next half-hour or so, I drank, relaxed, and watched a 
baseball game on the TV, deliberately keeping my hand away from the 
crystal.  Vicky, who seemed to be her old self again, came by and poured me 
another beer, and I got her attention.    

     "Hey, you're almost done for the day, aren't you?", I asked as I 
dropped a ten on the bar.    

     "Yeah, another one bites the dust.  You want change?"   

     "No, thanks, Vicky.  Keep it."    

     She smiled again, and my heart warmed.  "Thanks, Fenton! You're a 
saint!"   

     Oh, no I'm not, I almost said out loud.  But instead, I did say, "You 
mind if I walk you home? I think I've had enough, and there's something I 
wanted to talk to you about."    

     She looked at me strangely.  "You, know, that's weird.  I was going to 
ask you the same thing.  When did you learn how to read minds?"   

     "Ha, ha.", I chuckled weakly.  "Weird.  Really, there's something I 
need your advice about."    

     "Yeah, okay."  She looked at me, concerned."You're not gonna die, or 
something, are you?"   

     "No, no", I said hastily.  "Nothing like that.  I just need to show 
you something."    

     She went and got her coat, then called out to the waiter out on the 
floor.  "Hey, Patrick.  I'm outta here, okay?"   

     The tall, thin man waved half-heartedly, and ambled towards the bar.  
Vicky took off her apron and left it beside the sink, and came around to my 
side of the bar.  "Okay, let's go!" She seemed so eager, I felt my mood 
improve drastically.    

     Outside, we turned uptown, up the long hill that Princess Street is 
built on.  The day was pleasant, neither too hot or too cold, without that 
oppressive summer haze that always seems to make it hotter than it actually 
is yet I still felt too warm, as I wrestled with how I was going to tell 
Vicky about my discovery without coming across as totally nuts.  Finally, I 
decided, at least initially, to tell her about the crystal as some 
interesting-looking but more-or-less prosaic curio.    

     As we approached a small coffee shop near the Odeon Theatre, I turned 
to her.  "You want to have a coffee?"   

     To my amazement, she took my hand and squeezed it briefly.  "Sure, 
that'd be great!  But why don't we go up to my place?  It's only another 
block," and she smiled brightly.  Her smart-ass bartender attitude had 
disappeared entirely, and I felt closer to her than I had in a long time.    

     So we walked on to her apartment, the lower floor in one of those 
brick Victorian houses near campus where the upstairs is home to a number 
of students during the school year.  She unlocked the door, and we went 
inside, through a long hallway into a small kitchen at the back.    

     "You want a beer?"   

     "No, thanks.  Coffee's fine, or whatever you're having."    

     "Okay.  Just sit down anywhere."  She turned to the counter and busied 
herself.  I sat at an old, tubular steel kitchen chair, that matched the 
design of the table.  Watching Vicky as she prepared the coffee was 
entertaining, as she moved with unselfconscious sensuality, her ass gently 
rocking as she moved around.  I felt myself harden again, but I 
deliberately kept my hand away from the crystal.  I felt apprehensively 
excited, unsure of what was about to happen, but looking forward to it.  I 
didn't want to ruin it.    

     Vicky flipped the switch on the coffee maker, and sat kitty-corner 
from me at the table, a little closer to me than I'd expected.  It felt 
good.    

     "So, you wanted to tell me something?" Her right eyebrow raised 
expectantly.    

     "Oh, yeah."  Mindful of what had happened between her and me back at 
the bar, I reached into my pocket, and took out the crystal.  It looked 
like a piece of brown quartz, or one of those pieces of fake coal people 
used to have in their fake fireplaces.  It didn't look at all out of the 
ordinary.  "I found this yesterday."  I put it on the yellow Formica 
tabletop in front of me.    

     Vicky looked at the triangular crystal, then looked at me with a 
bemused but wary smile.  "You wanted to talk to me because of a piece of 
rock?"   

     "Uh -- yeah, but there's something weird about it."  I looked away 
from her.  "Oh, boy.  You're not going to believe this..."    

     She folded her hands on the table, and looked at me defiantly.  "Try 
me."    

     I thought for a moment.  "You remember this afternoon when you sort of