Mina was at the kitchen table making a poster for some sort of nurses function to be held at work. Marcus hit the sack early that evening, not to sleep, but to reflect. He was outside the covers still fully clothed, except for his shoes, with a pillow under his ankles. The house was still, so he could barely hear Mina humming as far away as he was. Random creaking noises from the air ducts created depth to the perspective of hush. When were things ever truly silent? His lids slid slowly down. An old face was once again staring at him through them. Shrouded in the black of dream, that grizzled stare was fully on him. He had seen it so many times, so many nights. An aura of Italian baked goods hinted itself in the mental froth. He saw the aspect of his sister with her worrying eyes darting between him and that old man in the shadows. What is it, Sis? What are you trying to tell me?

So many times Sissy would give him deep and mysterious life's lessons as he lay on the rug, a mere child with his head on her lap. Stroking his hair she lifted him into the ethereal space of her artistic mind. "Why is grass green, Sissy?" That question had an expected response.

"Because it GOBBLES GOBBLES GOBBLES the red," she was attacking his tickle ribs with the gobbley part. If he mentioned bombs to Sissy, she wouldn't tickle him but just get quiet and leave. That was for Chucky.

"Sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Nino gave me a whipped cream shooter. I'm gonna shoot Chucky on the butt."

"I don't know about that," she was making crazy eyes, "Chucky might just swallow you. When the moon is full, late at night, Chucky turns into, " and she was making awful eyes, "a zombi."

"Does not."

"Does too. Eating the flesh of little children.."

"Uh ungh, I'm gonna get him. Nino says I can."

"He'll eat you."

"Gotta catch me first. I'll get him when he's naked."

Well, she loved that idea. She didn't say so, but it as clear that she couldn't wait. But she warned, "You know, sweetie, we all are different. What works for Nino might not work for.."

"Me?"

"Well, I was going to say Chucky or Aldo. Who knows what will work for you? Your book isn't open yet. Right now you are a mystery. You could be a great singer, or or.. mmm..."

"The headless horseman!"

"Ohhhgggg. Come'on. A guy with a pumpkin head?"

"Yeah!!"

"Under his arm?"

"Yeah!!

"No. Not you. Some dufus on a horse with a pumpkin head has no class. That's the old order. You are the new. You don't destroy you build." Her dream eyes were again being pulled away to the old man who never left the shadows. Class hung in the air.

 Wandering thoughts, strangely drifted back to Washington Benson saying, "No class." What was class, anyway? Surprisingly, he answered his own question with the image of Jake Green, the swill overseer. Jake had been, for sure, in the meanest of professions, but that was by need. He had a family, and he did what he must to insure their home. Yet, he was well read, no, better read than anybody Marcus had ever encountered. Jake did not waste that free time which evening swill duties provided. Like Einstein working the patent office, or Tennessee Williams working shackled to a shoe factory assembly line, he had his own other agenda.

Marcus recalled his total flabbergast when Jake showed up at Charles Darling with a book for him to read. "Hey junior Jazz Man, I got a book for you," holding out his own work - Fury of Justice, Jake Green - an early hint or seed of what would, someday, in his magnum opus of more seasoned writing land a Pulitzer. Even then, Jake had class. Doctor Macaluso never shared how it was that a great philosopher writer, Jake Green, became friends with a mere children's doctor. Mac just let them assume the relationship was a recent one. A bond of swill doesn't play as well.

"Jake! What are you doing here?"

"This is a public swimming facility?"

"Of course. Of course. I just, uh, of course. How did you know.."

"Benson. He told me you were curious about the Omega."

"You know Washington? Cool."

"He's my brother."

"Uh... brother.... like a black thing brother, hey brother, uh... my mother's other son brother, a he ain't heavy he's my brother kind of brother, uh.."

"We're both waitin' on the scar - brothers."

"Scar?" a very long confused pause was followed by a light, "THE OMEGA?"

"Insiders call it the scar."

"Washington said that it was dangerous to talk about this. Is it?"

"You bet. However, the scar said I could let YOU in, a little."

"Me? An Omega?"

"Let you in on the history, man. You read fast, but you think slow."

"Of course. How stupid of me."

"No, it's not stupid of you. We've been watching over you for some time. My father's name is Gabriel. He told me about you. I almost shit when you came in lookin to steam swill, damn."

"Gabriel. Gabby? Gabby's your father?"

"Yup."

"I don't get it. What's the chances of that? One in a billion billion?"

"Jazz junior, you're not thinking. Think!"

Thinking didn't help. Jake gave up and just handed his book over, "Your dad asked my dad to look after you. Gabby had adrenaline in his pocket. He's been on the emergency squad for years. Your mother died of asthma, from cutting grass, was it? Something like that?" as he went out of view.

"But my mother's not dead! Boy, has he got his shit mixed up!" he thought, then called after Jake, "The graduate student died, from exhaustion. Bad heart," as he looked at the personally autographed book delivered by the author who's fame was someday to come. That book burned in his hands. He felt its power, before the first page was turned. Jake began, "Justice described is justice denied."

"Nino?" his mind flashed.

"Let me see! Gimmee. No me!" Mac had to hold the book over his head away from the kids who all wanted to see what Jake brought. "Hold on, you'll rip it. We'll read it out loud on my break time. OK?" Mac offered to a resounding approval.

He chose Shondra Smith, a very cagy and stunningly lithe beautiful 16 year old to read Jake's book. Shondra was the heart throb of half the boys, but was the special love of Lyle Woodrow. He promised to carry her to greatness on wings of love, to which she demanded, "Forget the wings, Lyle, an education and good job is what I want in a man." Lyle took her very seriously and was internally driven to become a scholar. Marcus recognized many of Lyle's readings as borrowed from Jake, who was clearly his model. Having Shondra read Jake's words seemed a smart move, all around.

It turned out better than smart, because if she merely uttered "Whip out your dicks, they would all be waving hard ones," as Eunice Tyler remarked. Eunice had none of Shondra's grace nor classic beauty. Eunice made her way by being, in her words, 'easy on the boys' - in the water, under a towel, in the back grass, easy. Eunice liked Shondra, but knew she could never be her.

"Justice described is justice denied," Shondra read loudly, to amens. "We came as slaves to a new land where the promise of freedom was greater and grander in bondage than our antiquity of inherited station and class. We were brought, embryonic, into this womb of freedom, this classless America, this place of promise to grow or die. Class by struggle, by power grasped, by opportunity seized."

"He talkin about here?" Delvin whispered. He was just stretched skin and slim muscle in one wiry nine year old package of mischief.

Shondra put her hand on his head, "He's saying that over there, you are what you're born. Maybe free, but never free of your class. Here, you may be delivered into a wretchedness of bleak hope,..." Mac was astounded by her ease in this matter, "...but you are not fixed in your station. You CAN rise above it."

Delvin was big eyed, as Shondra was touching him and she was hot. And longingly, he asked her, "Shondra, you gonna marry Lyle?" as all the kids came apart with hysterical laughter.

"That depends on Lyle," she smiled, turned sideways and looked askance as the hysteria ran its course. She went on, "Cattle are cattle. Wolves are wolves. We are born as cattle who can choose to be wolves or choose to remain as cattle to graze easily before we are consumed."

The crowd was liking this. Echoes of Baldwin were in there, to be sure, but Jake went way beyond. He delved the inner workings of attainment, self discovery, and answered Mac's question that was hollered over the shrill feedback of Hendricks in the hospital scullery - "What if you look within and find a beast?" Jake's answer was clear, become the beast - but bring what you hoped you would be to it.

James Brown was rejoicing over the P.A. system "I feeeeel good." doduh looduh looduh loot "I knew that I would, now." doduh looduh looduh loot "So good, oognh, So good, I'm tellin yoooooou." bom bom bom bomp, as the boys did their fancy foot squirming Godfather of Soul body shake.

"So good, oognh, So good, I'm tellin yoooooou." bom bom bom bomp.

Lyle Woodrow was somewhere reading. He had a lady to enchant.