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    Carlos The Cloud: And Other Stories
    Carlos The Cloud: And Other Stories
    Carlos The Cloud: And Other Stories
    Ebook147 pages1 hour

    Carlos The Cloud: And Other Stories

    By Jim Gold

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    About this ebook

    Jim Gold excels as a writer in the joys of improbability. His stories seize upon the most unlikely of heroes and heroines, and plunge them into situations none of us could ever imagine. They come to us with a hilarious assortment of odd backgrounds, very strange attitudes,and utterly surprising needs and ambitions. Some of them are people. Some are animals, and others plants. There are guys and gals who worry about their sex lives or their deaths, a talking turnip, a cloud with Oedipal problems, a whole world of vivid creations. And they're all inescapable,irresistible—a tangle of living neurons and flesh we can't help but be drawn to because they so often, and so surprisingly,remind us of ourselves. These invented souls hint of our own needs, our own frailties. . .and our own triumphs. They will leave you a happier soul.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateJun 24, 2020
    ISBN9781946989703
    Carlos The Cloud: And Other Stories
    Author

    Jim Gold

    Jim Gold brings color to his worlds as a folk dance teacher, choreographer, musician, writer, tour organizer, and president of his travel company, Jim Gold International Folk Dance Tours. His welcoming personality and enthusiasm for life inspires his folk dance students and travelers alike. He's also a classical and folk guitarist. His one-man show has appeared on TV and in schools and universities across the USA. He has also written eleven books, many of which chronicle his varied life.

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      Book preview

      Carlos The Cloud - Jim Gold

      Club,

      Carlos the Cloud

      EVERY MORNING AT DAWN, Father Sun dressed Carlos the Cloud in his moisture suit and sent him floating across the Spanish sky. All day long Carlos played with his black and white cloud buddies as they drifted between Granada and Cordoba. Every evening at dusk, Carlos settled above an olive tree in Jaen province. There he rested, to enjoy the stars shining above him.

      When dawn arrived, he drank his moisture breakfast, marveled at his bulging nebulous muscles, proudly showed them off to the other clouds, then burst. Rain fell. The Spanish flowers and trees enjoyed a good drink.

      Next day, Carlos floated up to Father Sun. Patting his new nebulae, he said, I like raining. The flowers are smiling. Earth likes me. Trees, rivers, shade, and humans appreciate what I do. I want to rain on them again. When can I do it again?

      When you’re full, Father Sun answered.

      Carlos continued playing and the centuries passed.

      One day, a storm blew him to Seattle. Floating above the Microsoft building, he rained on a worker. The man looked up. Shaking his finger at Carlos, he shouted, You stupid cloud! Soon you’ll be nothing but a drop. You dumped on me. But that’s no reason to be proud of your aim, or happy you scored. Earth is warming, drying up. You’ll soon be an afterthought, a nothing, a transient moment in the universe. His face reddened with rage before he fell to his knees, kissed the ground, and began to cry, Good-bye Earth. Global warming will kill us all. Soon I’ll be an afterthought, too, unnoticed and forgotten.

      Carlos wanted to hear more of this strange man’s weather forecast, but a gust of wind blew him to Alaska. Weeks later, hovering above a San Diego beach, he still thought about the stinging words of the frightened Microsoft man. For the first time in his life, Carlos felt dissatisfied.

      He consulted with his father. Does my cloud burst make me transient? he asked. Why grow if I end up empty? Surprised by his sudden questions, he paused to consider their (philosophical) depth. Am I really a nothing in cloud form?

      Well, answered Father Sun, "transience is a problem for clouds. In fact, it’s a problem for everything and everyone. It makes them sad. (Transience is sad.) But watering the soil, helping trees and flowers grow, filling empty rivers, and bringing drinks to thirsty people helps heal the world. Father Sun sent a ray of sunshine to a poor family beneath him. Making others happy is a good thing."

      That’s nice to know, Father. But it doesn’t make me feel any better. I’ll still end up empty, a blank wisp of nothing.

      Carlos was about to cry when he saw his father’s mood changing. The kindly, wise patron of the arts and ruler of the sky began to increase his heat. The fire of his eye burned molten hot. Hammered by the whiny complaints of his spoiled, unappreciative cloud, he shook his giant finger and roared, "You dumb, short-sighted, arrogant snot! Your lack of gratitude disgusts me. Keep this up, and you’ll never make Storm Category."

      Carlos winced. He shrank to the size of a molecule.

      When Father Sun saw his pain, he softened. "Stop shriveling, Carlos. Keep this up, and soon you’ll be just an element. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. No need to fear criticism. I love you. Think about it like this. When flowers and trees grow, you grow as well. You’re a team working together. Without your water the others can’t exist. And without the others, you have no purpose. Think of your rain as a blessing. As you rain and shrink, the plants and trees grow. And in the process, you grow in wisdom."

      Who cares about wisdom? Carlos whined. Who cares about plants, trees, and rivers. I don’t want to fill and empty all day. I want muscles. I want to be big and strong.

      Sure you do. Every cloud wants to be big and strong. And you will become that.

      Great!

      But there are limits.

      For me? I thought I was your favorite cloud.

      Certainly, you are one of my favorites. But there are limits for me.

      Do you have limits?

      Yes, for me, too. Everyone has limits.

      Really? How sad.

      No, no. Not completely sad. True, everyone has limits. But no one knows what they are.

      "Do you know?"

      "No. Or, at least I’m not telling you about them. However, many people in this world believe I do know. Let them think what they like. Father Sun paused to let his lesson sink in. But, he continued, everyone and everything has limits. And aside from the basics—like the life and death cycle—no one knows what their limitations are."

      Can I still grow as big and strong as I want?

      You’ll grow until you burst. That’s the life of a cloud.

      But I want muscles!

      His father sighed in frustration. I can see you’re still young and stupid. Searching for an example, he looked down at Earth, and pointed to a crew of men on Pearl Street loading furniture into a truck. "Those guys down there are just like you. Fill and empty, load and unload, that’s their job. When they’re finished, they go home from work. And after they put in many years of service, I call them home. They rest here awhile. Then, I send them down again to do another job."

      You mean they die?

      In a sense.

      Is that what filling and emptying is?

      You’re a smart cloud. Figure it out.

      Scratching the moisture on his belly, Carlos thought about transitions. Finally, he asked, Can raining my waters ever reward me?

      Father smiled. Of course. Raining unburdens you, makes you light and free. After you give it all away, you can float free and easy through the sky. I’d call that a refreshment. Tasty, too.

      Carlos hovered in place for several hours. "Father, where were you last night?" he finally asked.

      I was asleep.

      Did you die?

      Of course. I do that every night.

      Is it sad?

      It can be, but only for a while. I need my rest, so I can travel and expand. But I always come back the next day.

      Dying must be easy for you. You’re an old man.

      You can die at any age, Carlos. It can be painful, but the benefits of travel and expansion make it easier.

      Where do you go?

      Mostly to Cycle Rest Homes.

      What are they?

      A chain of homes in quiet corners of the universe. The first home for Neolithic hungers was started during the Paleolithic period by Nan See, a local female Neanderthal entrepreneur. When her first client, Baboosh, returned to Earth rested and energized, other hunters started using her Cycle Rest home services as well. Due to the growth of mammoth hunts in what is now called Siberia, Cycle Rest Homes expanded. Today there are hundreds throughout the universe.

      Father Sun shone a few hours on Argentina, then continued. I use them all the time. It takes energy to create light, so I need lots of breaks. After a few hours resting in my Home, I feel renewed. Then I come out to create a dawn.

      That’s weird.

      Yes, dying is weird, but it works. Just like you can’t wake up unless you sleep, and you can’t be reborn unless you die. Remember what Baboosh said after his first mammoth hunt: ‘Gogoo possimus porticantius lodos.’ (If you want to live, you have to die.)

      Is that what expansion is all about?

      Yes. Emptying, then filling. It’s the only way to go.

      Carlos floated as he considered this. Finally, with a burst of enthusiasm, he cried, I want to expand, too. I want to accumulate. I want to become the biggest cloud in the sky!

      That’s a healthy attitude, Carlos, although a tad competitive. But every cloud wants to get bigger and stronger, to expand and float across the sky.

      That’s for me!

      Okay, but when you rain and vanish, will you still be disappointed? Will you still complain?

      I think I can take it.

      "Good. Who knows—you may even become the biggest cloud in the sky. But rather than dwell on size, better to think about the glorious healing water you will give others. That’s the most important part of cloud life. Now go play with your friends."

      Thank you, Father.

      And Carlos floated across the Spanish sky.

      Swamp Disorder

      STAN AND MOLLY WERE LOVERS of a premier order. Their roars, cries, laughter, and general bedroom antics were the talk of the neighborhood. People heard their joyous screams miles away and often called the police or fire department when their howls of delight and rapture became too cacophonous.

      A noisy bunch, complained Lesley Parsnip, their next-door neighbor.

      Shut them up! grumbled Gaylord McCullough, the neighbor across the street. "We can’t sleep a

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