Time(1): Frog Blankets - Chapter One by Anna Bell
When Anna awakens on the morning after her wonderful dream, she puts on some coffee then goes into her study to begin work on the book Jonathan has suggested. (Click here. Most of you just skipped right over it.) Since she can't pronounce, nor spell, the entire title, she shortens it to FROG BLANKETS, the only portion of the title that is in recognizable English. When the book is published, she will put the entire title in parenthesis beneath the shortened title. If anyone else can make sense of it, they are welcome to. If anyone can make sense of FROG BLANKETS they are welcome to.
For once in her life, Anna feels very strongly about the subject of a book. And she is certain that, in spite of the magnitude of this work, she can do it. She has confidence in herself...especially after the dream. (Why that crazy dream should inspire confidence is beyond us.)
Anna gulps down a cup of coffee and sits before her typewriter. Without hesitation, she begins typing. She types the title...FROG BLANKETS. She types, "Chapter One." She types the page number so she'll know when the book is long enough. She types her opening sentence, which is: "Time envelopes creation in an intricate weave of remembrances and hopes, spinning our past and future into a single thread, delicate even as it is invincible, invincible even as it is yellow."
Anna has remembered God's sample literary phrase perfectly. (Yielding...yellow. Same difference). Anna doesn't know she is plagiarizing God, of course. She thinks she has done that opening line herself. Not bad, she thinks. A good start. It sounds very literary and, if studied long enough, it probably means something. Anna decides to worry about meanings later. For now, she needs a second sentence.
"Frog blankets. Frog blankets," she muses. "What can I say about frog blankets?"
What can one say about frog blankets? They come in all colors and sizes and materials, but that's obvious...one shouldn't have to say it. They have amphibian properties...that's obvious, too. They can be used on beds or as comforters or at picnics or wadded up beneath one's head while one watches TV or as sofa covers or to lay on while one changes the oil in one's car. She can tell of all the ways frog blankets can enhance one's life, but that begins to sound like one of her self-help books, not an epistle on the state of mankind.
Perhaps she should discuss the metaphysical aspects of frog blankets: How certain colors affect one's relationship with the cosmos. How the use of synthetic fibers has distanced mortals from the natural world. The linearity of progression from the warmth of God's love to the snugness of a good frog blanket on a cold night. The use of frog blankets as flying carpets (admittedly rare, but interesting...). The metaphoric misuse of the frog blanket by organized religion. The fad of cutting up frog blankets into perspiration shields--sacrilege or pragmatism? Frog blankets as prayer shawls. Fornication on frog blankets--the ultimate sin or the ultimate fuck or both? And how about those wonderful hand-woven frog blankets with their delicate colors and patterns that convey sacred meanings to certain cultures...but they're woven using polyester? Now, there's a dichotomy worthy of the name! And those damnable garish frog blankets with likenesses of Elvis Presley or some biker chick that are sold in flea markets? There's a chapter or two!
Anna makes some quick notes to herself then leaves the study to get more coffee. She meets Jonathan in the kitchen. He is leaning against the counter staring glumly at the coffee maker.
"What're you doing?" she asks.
"Waiting for the coffee."
Anna glances at the coffee pot. "There's coffee in it."
"It's not hot enough."
Anna reaches around her husband and pours coffee into her coffee cup. She knows the coffee will never get any hotter than it is. "How long do you have to wait before it's hot enough?"
"About another five minutes."
Anna leaves the room. She has a book to write.
"Mankind is forever waiting another five minutes," she writes. "It is his destiny and his curse. A man's willingness to wait is a measure of his spirituality. His ability to wait, however, is a measure of his mortality. The fact that he will only wait five minutes is a measure of his shortsightedness.
"Let's discuss these principles." (Anna is an author of self-help books. She is accustomed to writing on ostensibly important personal issue to an general audience that reads at about fifth grade level. Now, however, she is writing a book commissioned by God so she feels her style should be more pedantic. Wait. It'll probably get worse.)
"If there is such a thing as eternity, there can be no such thing as time. (We've already heard this, Anna! You're not plagiarizing God...you're plagiarizing your husband!) Time is a method of setting limits...a concept that can not exist in the context of forever. A being who is willing to wait demonstrates an understanding of this eternal principle and is, therefore, spiritual.
"Mortality imposes limits upon the spiritual being. For example, a spirit who can literally expand to encompass the universe is encapsulated in a mortal body that not only refuses to let him out, but limits severally his ability to see out, to understand out, to believe out. Thus, while the spirit is willing to wait, the body limits it's ability to do so.
"The irony is that even the spirit that is willing to wait is only willing to wait five minutes. If life is eternal and there is no time, a wait of five minutes and a wait of forever are the same thing. But, mortals don't see it that way. That's shortsightedness.
"The final irony is that, in the eternal scheme of things, the concepts, 'to wait' and 'shortsightedness' are meaningless. 'To wait' implies to wait for a length of time but there is no such thing. 'Shortsightedness' implies an inability to see and understand the length of time one must wait. To be shortsighted, then, is to fail to see and understand time, which does not exist, and waiting, which can not exist if time does not exist. It is illogical, therefore, to criticize a being for being shortsighted about waiting. It's like criticizing space for being empty."
Anna slumps back in her chair, exhausted. Being God's mouthpiece is hard work. It is satisfying, though, especially when one doesn't know one is being God's mouthpiece, for then one thinks one is writing great thoughts all by oneself. God's thoughts are forever a mystery, of course, but why He would want Anna to write about such non-concepts as 'waiting' and 'time' and 'shortsightedness' is beyond mystery. It is plain silliness (especially considering His attitude toward Jonathan's Universal Principle). But, perhaps He is just warming her up...getting her used to vague concepts and notions. After all, this is the woman who thinks authors are fools and that real writers should be marketing experts. This is the woman who recommended the use of table legs for masturbation! A little practice with things philosophical won't hurt her.
Anna goes to the kitchen for more coffee. Jonathan is still slumped against the counter.
"What're you waiting for, now?"
"Five minutes," he answers.
"But, it's been two hours!"
"Oh."
Anna reaches around him and pours the last of the coffee into her cup. "It's empty. You'll have to make some more."
Jonathan picks up his empty coffee cup, carries it to the kitchen sink and rinses it out. It's never had coffee in it. Never. Not, since he's owned it. Jonathan never drinks morning coffee, although he always waits five minutes for it to heat up. Anna thinks he does his best programming during that two hour wait. If so, Jonathan doesn't seem to be aware of it. He never writes anything down. He never appears to be thinking about anything. He just waits. A couple of times, she saw his lips move, and once she heard him mumble, "...the small red fox with the bushy tail...."
(Will this guy make a great prophet or what?)