Just a Misunderstanding, I'm Sure.

I didn't want to believe at first.  It was too fantastic.  A story that would make an editor at the Enquirer laugh in my face.  A person looking for President Obama's "real" birth certificate would tell me that I was wasting my time. 

But the evidence has become so compelling, so undeniable, that I had to break my silence.  As Arthur Conan Doyle once said through his creation, Sherlock Holmes, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left, no matter how improbable it might seem, has to be the truth.  

If you don't hear from me again after reading this passage, well...  You can guess what might have happened to me.  

It started one day when I was walking through the office and I overheard someone say...

"I'm not familiar with the crows in this area."  

Huh?  Crows?  Who took the time to get to know crows?  Except for a vet specializing in carrion fowl, why would anyone want to know a crow? 

I looked back at the young lady who had said this.  She had her cell phone out and was in the midsts of texting someone, sending them a message.  

"What?" she said when she caught me looking at her.  

"Nothing," I replied, continuing on through the office.  Crows.  Messages.  I shook my head.  It had to be a mistake, right?  

Then, later that same night, I heard someone raising their voice in the production office...

"I'm too damn much like you!"  

I stepped into the production room.  There were only two people there.  One was a tall Armenian guy who did our shipping.  He has his hair cut in one of those carefully designed and maintained cuts that is supposed to look like its a messy bird nest.  Or...  A crow's nest, maybe?  The other guy was a shorter Asian guy with a shaved head who work on records processing.  Two more different people there couldn't be.  

"Who's too much like who?" I asked them.  

They both looked at each other.  A silent message passed between them.  They looked back, embarrassed smiles on their faces.  

"Huh?  What are you asking?"  

I took a deep breath.  I felt like asking them if there had been someone else in the room just before I entered.  Or maybe...  Two other people who looked a lot like each other.  Too "damn much" like each other for one's sense of identity.  But something told me that the two before me would feign ignorance if I asked so direct a question.  

"Never mind..."  I sent a smile back at them.  I carried on, pretending that nothing was wrong.  All the while keeping my ears peeled.  

For a couple of days, there were no new clues.  I wasn't idle, though.  I looked up crows on line and recalled that druids thought them messengers from the gods.  Probably before the gods got cell phones with unlimited texting plans.  I also read about golems, a sort of pre-technology clone of legend.  

One news item caught my eye.  It was about the Border Monuments along our border with Mexico.  These tall, pyramid shaped markers were built and maintained by both countries to mark where the border between us is located.  But since the United States started building a large security fence that was approved by Congress, these monuments have become inaccessible.  You see, the fence is built wholly on the United States side of the border.  And as it was designed to keep people out, it does a pretty good job of keeping people away from the monuments.  

Keeping people away from these...  Pyramid shaped...  Monuments.  Huh...

The pieces were floating around in my mind, tantalizingly close to forming a picture.  The snippets of conversation continued to feed my desire to understand what was going on...

"She's the one in the bathroom..."

"Good morning, Crows..."  Crows again?

"I'll use my usual place in New Orleans."  

It made little sense to me.  Then, again in production, I overheard something that made it all come clear.  

"She's hiding Jobs.  That's all she does, is hide Jobs."  

Oh...  My...  God.  Suddenly all the pieces fell in place.  You can see it, can't you?  For those who can't, whose minds are too steeped in "reality" to see the truth, I will spell it out for you.  

My office has been infiltrated by a coven of Druidic witches.  They have moved north from their secret base, located an unknown depth beneath the pyramid shaped border monument on the San Diego border.  Safe from prying eyes due to the tall security fence they had their agents in Congress authorize, they have started the second phase of their diabolical plan, which involves the stealing of bodies of recently departed famous and wealthy people to build an army of zombie clones.  Their most recent acquisition has been the body of Steve Jobs, former founder and CEO of Apple Computer.  This was such a valuable acquisition that they have one of their members on full time duty hiding it.  Another, unnamed body, a female, is being kept somewhere in the woman's bathroom.  

How are they doing it, creating these clones?  That part is still unclear, but I suspect they've adapted some zombie-making principles they've learned from contacts in the voodoo world, one located in New Orleans, to create these creatures.

But they've hit a snag.  One of their creations, filled with the same individualistic genetic material that lead its predecessor to "Think Different," has rebelled from their control.  In a sudden burst of self-determination it cried out its decision to be its own person, to not be so much like its brethren, and fled.  The coven, seeking to recover their creation, are busy sending messages all over.  To avoid having their messages intercepted online, they have resorted to using their feathered messengers of yore.  But in their rush to capture the fugitive zombie, they have been forced to use birds that they don't know and are harder to control.    

This freedom seeking clone is the key to discovering goal of this druidic coven.  Normal police and government agencies would be unable to help at best, or infiltrated with druidic agents as the U.S. Customs Department already appears to be.  

It looks like I'm the only person in a position to find this runaway zombie clone and stop the nefarious plan of these druidic witches before it's too late. 

Writer's Note: If you've stumbled over this blog and this entry is your first time reading one of my offerings, please be assured that I'm not crazy.  One of my favorite things to do as a writer is to take what I thought I just heard someone said as if it were fact and not a mere misunderstanding and see what I can come up with.  This entry is an example of a week's worth of such misunderstanding.

So, if you happen to be a member of a druidic coven whose conspiracy resembles what I've written down here, please know that it's all just a coincidence.  

Honest.