The
Lighter Side of Metamorphosis
A short story by
John William Tuohy
When Jake Skala woke up that morning from
easy dreams he never thought he would find himself changed into a wonderful
bird. And because of that wonderful dream he lingered in bed longer than he
should have and so, Jake Skala was late again. Dashing out of the front door of
his comfortable home in suburban Edina he raced to his car which waited
expectedly for him on the off white cement of the driveway.
Jake stopped and took in the morning air
and turned to gaze at the Minneapolis skyline not so far off in the distance
and say the clear dark outline of the Essex building where he worked and where
they were, angrily no doubt, waiting for him, again. He stopped to pause and
think which was one of the primary reasons why Jake Skala was late so often. He
was a man of thought and pauses.
“You know” he said to himself “If I could
fly, I’d be there already”
Whatever it was that overtook him pushed
him forward and then in an upwards direction into the air and then, with a
rhythmic rocking motion that came naturally, he lifted himself higher and
higher into the air. By leaning forward he glided across the sky, floating past
the cars and buildings and landed, somewhat roughly, in front of the Essex
Building.
Someone filmed the whole thing, from
beginning to end, with their phone camera and posted the unusual site on YouTube
and within hours Jake Skala of Edina Minnesota was the center of the world’s
attention. The international media flocked to his door and wanted to know how
he could fly.
“Are
you an alien?” was the most popular question to which Jake replied
“You mean” Jake replied “Like one of those
illegals?”
“No,” said the reporter with a shake of
his head “like the other kind.”
Jake nodded his head in understanding “Nope,
I’m from right on earth.”
“Then how come you can fly?” came a
question
“I don’t know how I learned to fly,” Jack
Skala replied. “I was in a hurry to get some place and I just sort of,” he
stopped in mid-sentence and finding the correct word, he continued, “Well I
suppose I willed myself to fly. I just thought it and saw it in my head and the
next thing you know, by gosh, there I was, flying.”
“Can you explain a little better than
that?” a reporter asked.
Jake shook his head and nope, no he
couldn’t, and then asked the reporters a question. “Can you explain to me how
you will your body to walk?”
No, they couldn’t. “Well,” Jake said
patiently, for he was a patient man, “I can’t explain how I will my body to
fly. I just sort of thought it and there you go.”
Well sir, as you can well imagine, a lot
of people wanted to fly. These people, just average folks, didn’t have any
place special to fly to, they just wanted to fly, so they willed themselves to
fly and they did fly. It turns out humans could always fly, just like they
could always walk and move their arms and turn their necks. In the next month,
after people got the hang of it, Hawaii had a lot more tourists than usual and
so did the North Pole, Florida and beach towns in Southern California.
By week’s end an emergency meeting was
held at the White House to discuss the human flying issue or what was popularly
known as “The Skala”, as in “let’s Skala down to Mexico for spring break”.
Sitting in on the meeting at the White House that morning were leaders of
industry and commerce, leading members of the scientific community, the
President and the President’s top people. The first to speak was Drew Nally,
the aged and powerful Speaker of the House of Representatives, a noted captain
of industry.
“Mister President” he said in a no
nonsense way “this flying nonsense must be stopped until we can control it!”
“Why? Everyone seems to be having a good
time. What’s wrong with it?” the President replied with a smile.
“Well a lot is wrong with it sir, a lot. Our
hotel industry is in big trouble, sir, big trouble” he said furrowing his brow
on the second use of “big trouble” to make sure the President understood that
it was big trouble and not just a little trouble.
“You
see sir, most of these folks, these, these…..’ he searched for the word that
offered just the right amount of condescending disapproval to it “these flying
people,” he said almost choking on the words, “they’re mostly common, everyday
folk.” They just drop by for the day; at best most are only staying a night,
maybe two. There are just too many other places in the world for them to visit,
you know, now that it’s a free for all”.
“Same with the restaurant business,” said
the man who represented restaurant businesses. “With no airline carry on
restrictions, people are carrying their food with them.” He turned to the man
who was sent by the hotel businesses and said with a look of great disdain,
“Whole families carrying their meals in knapsacks!” He scanned the table and
said “knapsacks!” and all gathered there pushed out their lower lips and shook
their heads in great disapproval of families carrying food in knap sacks.
“Mister President, I demand, in the name
of the American people that we stop the American people from partaking in this
sordid flying business before entire industries collapse and disappear forever,
perhaps.”
“Like what?” asked the President
“The question surprised Nally mostly
because he hadn’t expected a question, because a man in his position is so
rarely questioned and because he had absolutely no answer to the question
asked. In the past six decades he had simply barked his opinions at Presidents
and the Presidents did whatever Mister Nally suggested they do.
“Well,” Nally sputtered, “like…say for
instance…umm…” He stared at the flag pole standing so rigidly in the corner of
the room and then raised a solitary finger. “Think of those people who make
stairs!”
“Stairs?” added the President.
Still flustered Nally, rallied with his
best answer “Yes, stairs. Why if everyone is flying why would you need stairs?”
It was a stupid answer and it hung in the
air for several very, very long seconds before someone else spoke.
“May I add,” added the eminent physicist
Doctor Han Snider, “that aside from the catastrophic toll that human flying
will take on the stairway industry” he said condescendingly with an eye towards
the Vice President, “we must ask the all-important question….are we still human
if we can fly? Were we, in fact, ever human?”
The President turned his head slightly to
the left, considered the question and then said, “That isn’t as stupid as the
stairway issue but it is still epically dumb.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” added Charles Dunning
of the Intelligence agencies. “I mean…what comes next? Will we be able to shoot
lasers from our eyes?” He chuckled and flashed something that was akin to a
tense smile, stood from his chair and strolled across the room as he spoke. “I
jest, of course, but I say we add some money to the defense and intelligence
budgets and get on this thing ASAP.”
The man from the US Department of Commerce
looked angry. “Folks are just landing in the country from anywhere and
everywhere and we don’t know who’s here, who isn’t here and who’s here that
doesn’t belong here….” His voice trailed off angrily, for he was an angry man.
In complete defeat he lowered his head and stared deeply into the rich dark
grains of the oak table and whispered “People are doing whatever they want.
We’re powerless.” The general from the Air Force leaned forward instinctively,
and with all in the room watching him, bit his lower lip and patted the man
from the Immigration people on the back.
“Mister President,” said the Air Force
general without moving his sympathetic gaze from the man from the Immigration
people, “our nation is in grave, grave, grave danger.”
The generals from the Army, the Navy, the
Air Force, the Marines and the Directors of the FBI, the CIA, and the NSA
nodded their heads as one in complete agreement with Mister Dunning. Then, as
one, the admirals and generals and secret directors turned to the President for
an answer
“Forget it, boys,” the President said.
“You’re not getting another penny.”
The President stood from his chair and
those in the room stood respectfully and watched as he collected all of his Presidential
pens and notebooks and prepared to leave the room. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I see
no harm in any of this. People are happy. Let’s just leave it alone. I don’t
see any real problems here, unless people start to swim under water like fish,”
and with that, he strode, in a Presidential type of stride, out of the door.
Jake Skala was late again. He had taken
his family to Lake Minnetonka. They flew there to escape all the media glare
that his simple yet magnificent deed had created. He had been fishing at Gray’s
Bay Damn on the vast lake east end and enjoyed himself so much that he’d
forgotten the time and now he was late, twenty minutes late to take his wife
and daughter to a Walleye Dinner at Lord Fletcher’s Restaurant. He would have
flown over the lake but a thunder storm that carried the occasional flash of
lightening had darkened the sky and it would take him a full half hour to drive
around the lake to the cabin.
He stopped to pause and think, for as I
said before, Jake Skala was a man of thought, he considering his options, he
stared at the clear blue lake water and said to himself,
“You know, if I could swim, I’d be there
already.”
..............here, here's a baby eating an orange for the first time
