HM Hears The Chimes

When Hysterical Mind, that piece of Sheepie's brain that takes charge of making mountains out of molehills, is quiet for any length of time it never bodes well.  No one knows this better than Rational Mind and she has learned to become alert to the sound of silence.  

Which is why she thought to wander into the living room last night and see what her less logical counterpart might be up to.  She discovered HM in the middle of the floor, mumbling incoherently and frantically going through a stack of five year old catalogues, haphazardly slapping sticky notes on pages in a random fashion.  Further from this center of chaos, RM noted several knitting books, also decorated with sticky notes.  These, however, bore scrawled messages such as, "Yeah, right," "Are you kidding me?" and "Never in your wildest delusions."  The laptop had also made it to the party and it appeared that at least ten windows had been opened.  Closer examination revealed that each was from a website detailing the conversion processes to any number of obscure faiths.  

You don't have to be entirely rational to figure out that something might be wrong.  RM decided to investigate further.  It went something like this:

Rational Mind:  Oh, for crying out loud!  What now?  Are you still going on about our entire staff being absent today and your belief that the students were going to rise up in some sort of teen-aged anarchy?  It's over.  We were fine.  We brought a movie and set up easily manipulated situations where they could "earn" the viewing of it.  We gave them candy.  They did their work and there was no need for any sort of crime scene clean up.  It is now the weekend and you have nothing to fear.

Hysterical Mind:  (Continues to scrabble through outdated catalogues and mumble incoherently)

RM:  Are you listening to me?  I said we are fine!  Stop this silliness right this instant or I am going to put the peanut butter cups in the freezer where you can't find them.  I mean it.  I'm not kidding.  This time I'll hide them behind that broccoli we bought six months ago and which you are afraid to touch!

HM: (Snatches up another catalogue and begins to cackle.  She marks that page with six sticky notes)

RM:  That is enough!  Give me that!!!  (Forcefully rips the catalogue from HM's grasp)

HM:  (Looks up and appears to see RM for the first time.  She tries to form words) K-K-K-K...

RM:  K?  I don't know what you mean.  Speak up!  Just tell me what is wrong so I can tell you why you are being ridiculous and you can spend the next four hours ranting about how you can't be too careful and who is out to get us.  I'd like to get to bed before sunrise if that's OK with you.

HM:  (More forcefully) K-K-K!!!!  K!!!!!

RM:  (Resignedly...and not without sarcasm)  Oh, goody.  It's going to be a guessing game.  I do so love those.  It starts with K.  Karma?  Kindling?  Keystone Kops?  C'mon!  Give me something here!  I was just kidding about the peanut butter cups.  I'll give you one right now if you would simply tell me what you want.  Heck, I'll give you two.  Three, even!

HM:  (Takes a deep breath and tries one more time to make the words come) K-K-...Kisses!  

RM:  Huh?

HM:  Kisses!!!  Kisses!!!  Kisses ring the doom!!!!  

RM:  What?!  Kisses?  Doom?  What did I tell you about watching the Sci Fi Channel when I'm not there to explain things to you?  Don't you remember what happened last time?  We are still getting follow up calls from the Navy because you couldn't understand the concept of computer generated animation and their application in the use of creating sea monsters.  I swear to you that I'm getting one of those V-chip things and then it's going to be all public television all the time for you, Missy!

HM:  Kisses!!!  Doom!!!!  RING!!!!!!

RM:  That's it.  You've lost it.  I'm calling...wait.  Kisses?  Ringing?

RM becomes suddenly very still.  A horrible realization begins to seep through her very being.  She is cold...so very cold.  

"No," she whispers, "It can't be."  

In a sudden burst of terrified movement, she snatches up the laptop.  She closes the various windows, each revealing a more interesting course of religious study and devolving into those which require the investment of life savings or animal sacrifice as part of the conversion process.  When she finally manages to dig her way down to the home page, she types four words into the search engine.  As the computer seeks out that which she requested, she says a small, quiet prayer. 

 "Please," she begs, "not yet.  This must be some sort of mistake..."

She finds what she is looking for.  She pulls up the website.  Her faint hope of a reprieve is dashed when HM hears the haunting refrain and begins to keen loudly and rattle the catalogue pages in what is obviously a hopeless gesture.  There is no doubt.  The sign, once viewed, can never be taken back.  Even RM knows that doomsday is near and that there is nothing her rationality can do to stop the clock.  

The Kisses have spoken.  It is time.  Heaven help us all.  Especially those of us who are maybe not quite as prepared as we should have been...

SA