Monday, January 9, 2017

Tic-Tic (Rhyme Time)


Tic-Tic (Rhyme Time)

by Mark Ryan 


Please read the short story below and leave feedback

at the email address .....
mail@markryanbooks.com


You can also see my other

books and short stories at my website …..



 

Just like the old gunslinger, putting notches on his pistol, we all look for gratification. We like to make lists of our accomplishments. It gives us self-pride and self-worth. Ever since I was a boy, I liked making lists that included a rhyme, remembering all those moments in time.

Tic-Tic. (I think it’s time to make a rhyme and a special list with a twist…)

 

From the bowler with checks on his score sheet to the fisherman with his limit for the day, the policeman with his book of tickets and even the politician with her votes. All those tics give us the drive to carry on and the push to go the extra mile.

Tic-Tic. (The butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers, some givers and others are takers…)

 

I sometimes think of my father, who ran a sign shop. His buddies would drop in the shop all day long to say hello and shoot the breeze. They would eventually ask him to make them a small sign or plague that showed their prowess. Sometimes he made car license plates for them with words describing their fete de complete. One said, ‘Greatest Bowler’ printed in large letters. Another was a plaque with the painting of a large fish and words listing the record catch at Lake Winipoo or something. They all liked to chalk-up their wins.

 Tic-Tic. (Wini the poo and bucket of fish too…)

 

The mini signs were for friends from all walks of life. One was a bowler, or lady’s man, or dandy, or card player, thief, policeman, plumber, ditch digger and even the local drunk. Each wanted recognition. If there was a mountain to climb, there was a climber.

Tic-Tic. (Up the mountain so high, just to see the sky...)

 

My Dad loved Mom. She was always there making him meals, sewing his clothes, cleaning house or taking care of us kids and gramma Rose. She loved him back and always forgave him for his many human blunders.

Tic-Tic. (Blunder, blunder as loud as thunder…)

 

You could hear her on the phone talking and laughing with her cousins. Some were rich and some poor. Some married to lazy bums and others to well-to-do contractors with their beautiful houses in the suburbs.

Tic-Tic. (Do not disturb, I’m in the suburb…)

 

My mom always dreamed of having a big house, like her cousins. She imagined decorating each room like those pictures in magazines.

Tic-Tic. (Dreams, dreams as bright as sun beams…)

 

As Dad read the newspaper and Mom her magazines, I could hear them talk about their plans for that new house. Dad would say that he was saving money for that special day and making plans for each room. He already had all his friends lined up to help with the building project. 

Tic-Tic. (Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Moe there is Jack and John and Joe…)

 

The future house was going to be built in Malden, a town just north of Boston, Ma.  Dad had purchased a small plot of land several years ago with money from the GI Bill. This was a benefit for all veterans who served in WWII, to help them build back their lives.  

Tic-Tic. (A plot, a plot to build on the spot, just sign on the dot…)

Of course we still lived in the city in a three decker apartment paying $20 a month rent for five rooms. As Dad struggled paying the bills, he would get a new sign painting job at the last minute and give Mom the rent money. She would then ask me, at the age of ten, to run down to the landlord’s house to give her the pound of flesh and make sure I got a receipt.

Tic-Tic. (Down the street I would run on my feet, be it rain, snow or sleet…)

 

It was Saturday and this was one of my chores for the day. Mom gave me a list so I wouldn't forget. Everyone had lists. Dad had jobs to do, Mom had house work and I had my chores. Mom said that when I finished with the list I could go out and play. She pinned the list to my shirt pocket so I wouldn't lose it and as a constant reminder. I got distracted easy. 

Tic-Tic. (Eessie, peesie I mean to pleeasie…)

 

Mrs. Goldstein, the landlord lived a mile away on the other side of town and I ran all the way. Climbing to her third floor flat, I knocked on the door. I wished I had young legs like that today. I have a hard time getting out of a chair and cringe at the thought of climbing stairs.

Tic-Tic. (Up to the third floor and knock on the door…)

 

She said come in and I could smell the oldness of the place as musty fumes permeated the air. She greeted me as I gave her the rent money and then offered me a stale cookie, but I politely refused. I didn’t know if her cats had sniffed at the goodies, or sat on the dish.

Tic-Tic. (It could have been a delicious knish but I decided not to wish…)

 

She then asked me to fill out the receipt book and would then sign it with a shaky X. She couldn't read or write but luckily had inherited rental property. My Dad said she had a rich father. Times were certainly simpler then. I wondered what it meant to be rich.

Tic-Tic. (Rich, rich, it’s not my niche. Wonder if we could sometimes switch…)

 

I never really thought much about being rich. Everyone in my neighborhood was in the same boat. We all lived in a three decker, Moms took care of the house, Dads went to work and kids went to school, did chores and then played outside. Simple, right, what else could you ever want?

Tic-Tic. (Do not taunt for wanting to want…)

 

On the way home I stopped to buy a loaf of bread for twenty cents and three pounds of Hamburg for a dollar. That was on my list too.  Maybe I would find some discarded glass soda bottles left on door steps. I had sharp eyes and could spot my prey from almost a mile away. I would then cash the bottles in at the corner store for the two cent deposit, so I might buy some penny candy.

Tic-Tic. (Candy, candy, wouldn’t that be dandy…)

 

After doing the chores for Mom, I would help Dad collect bricks from the recently demolished houses at the end of my street. The bricks would be used to build a house for Mom. Dad gave me a penny for each brick that I would collect and clean. The bricks were in huge piles from the demolished houses and still were encased with mortar and cement.

Tic-Tic. (Chipping cement and so it went…)

 

I would collect a wheel barrow full and cart them quickly to my back yard. My Dad said that I had to do it quickly since other neighbors might want them too. He also said that it wasn't stealing because the bricks were just going to be buried in a landfill.

Tic-Tic. (Counting one brick, two bricks, three bricks, or four and just a few more…)

 

After collecting the bricks, I would use a cement hammer and chip off all the mortar. Sometimes it would come off easy in big chunks but other times in tedious stubborn pieces.

Ten rows of ten made one hundred for Dad and a dollar for me. What a Math Wiz. Maybe I could buy something nice for Mom.

Tic-Tic. (Just like Tiny Tom Thumb, I will build a big house for Mom…)

 

Every other week, my Dad and I would load the bricks on his truck and drive them out to the house lot in Malden. After putting them on a wheel barrow, I would cart them over to side near the trees and neatly stack them in an ever growing pile. 

Tic-Tic. (Adding bricks to the pile would take a little while to build a big house of style…)

 

Times were tough for my Dad and his business. The sign jobs would come in dribs and drabs. Sometimes torrential dribs but most often slow drabs. Some of his customers were also having tough economic times but needed a sign to attract business. So Dad made arrangements to take some payment in cash and the rest in goods. That’s how Dad got me a bicycle for my birthday, paid some house bills, got some needed tools for the shop and a used truck for the business. Bartering for needed goods was a way of life.

Tic-Tic. (A tiscut, a tasket another biscuit in my basket…)

 

During my teen years I worked after school at the sign shop. At first I did the cleanup jobs and later the productive ones. My Dad made all kinds of signs including paper ones to hang in a store window, or lettering on the door of a truck, or wood and metal signs on posts or the roof of a building. He even made neon signs that flashed on and off with light.

Tic-Tic. (Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head; yellow, blue or red…)

 

Before the sign was built, Dad made sketches and scaled patterns for the layout of the signs on large rolls of paper. He would then lay down the paper pattern on the sign and transfer the sketched paper lettering onto the sign surface and then paint in the letters with permanent paint.

Tic-Tic. (Carefully lay down the pattern as if it were silk or satin…)

 

Dad kept the rolled up paper patterns in a large closet containing hundreds of jobs. It was like looking at Egyptian scrolls from ancient times. Dad kept the patterns so that he could refer to them if the customer wanted another sign or wanted to repaint the old sign after a few years.

Tic-Tic. (A thousand rolls were stored in the closet of scrolls…)

 

Little by little, Dad showed me how to do each task and eventually let me complete the job myself. As time went on I was able to do everything from start to finish. Dad would just make a list and a sketch and let me at it. Dad was proud of me and I was proud of my new found skills. I could do almost everything but Dad was the real paint master.

Tic-Tic. (Another sign to build, meant more money in the till…)

 

Over the years Dad suffered from a nerve condition that he got from the War. Today they call it PTSD. As a result he took to smoking and drinking to dispel his demons. Eventually he got a heart condition and suffered numerous strokes. 

Tic-Tic. (A terrible disease that brings you to your knees…)

 

In and out of the hospital he tried to save his business but it was a never ending downward spiral. I did what I could, but I didn’t have Dad’s talent to letter and paint. As time went on, Dad sold off most of his business, piece by piece. First the tools, then the paints and finally the house lot in Malden; including all those bricks. Now all I have is memories to fill those deep and empty crannies.

Tic-Tic. (Dad died as Mom cried and I was left with a hole in my heart so very wide…)

 

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Time Warp


by Mark Ryan    
                                                                                                  3,450 words


Please read the short story below and leave feedback

at the email address .....
mail@markryanbooks.com


You can also see my other

books and short stories at my website …..


 

 

 





 

Time Warp

 by Mark Ryan

 

     “The bus is late today. I wonder what’s causing the holdup.” Carol whispered.

     Carol was a worry wart. She always thought the worst. But today she was relatively calm. She had a good night’s sleep, dressed early, and wore here new black and white striped blouse.  Dark noir was the new fashion trend.  She worked in Mass General Hospital’s Claims Department and was in line for the next raise cycle. Hopefully, it would be more than a few dollars. However, it was a known fact that men doing the same job always got paid more. The ‘Good Old Boy Network’, she would always say.

     Mark answered, “Don’t know why the bus is late but I read in the paper that sun spots have been the reason for all the TV and radio interference.  There was also a news alert on my phone this morn’n that solar flares had caused the time on clocks to jump-round. Maybe the bus company clocks are off kilter.”

     “By the way dear, you look quite attractive this morning with your new blouse and the slight scent of perfume is very alluring. Just watch out for those sharks at work.”

     “Aha, you must want someth’n, but you know flattery will always get my attention.  Likewise, you look handsome yourself with those new retro clothes we bought at the thrift store.

     Carol was just over five feet tall with reddish brown hair and a slim built. She recently got contacts and was happy to get rid of the glasses she wore since grade school. Mark was five eleven and a half feet tall.  He would always try elevating his height that extra half inch when at the doctor’s office for his annual health check. The nurse would always say, “Take off your shoes and stand straight, please.” Mark had black hair with a big wave in front and always had that perpetual smile.

     Mark and Carol were high school sweethearts and dated each other while Mark went to UMass Boston and got his college degree, majoring in Chemistry and Biology.  In addition, he got his teaching certificate and applied for teaching jobs at several schools around the area.

     Last year they were married and Mark got his first job as a science teacher at a local high school.

     Although Mark received some scholarship money, he still owed some big loans for school and would have to pay them all back, now that he had a fulltime teaching job.

     After getting married, they looked for a small apartment and found one over a variety store in Chelsea, a community just north of Boston where they both grew up. It was close to schools and shopping and the bus line so they could easily get around. The rent was lower than normal since Carol’s father knew the landlord, although comparable rents went for fifteen hundred a month.

     Carol’s cousins still lived in the same neighbourhood in which their families had for the past four generation. The apartment buildings were made of wood and brick and most constructed in the 1920s. It was if time stood still in this old neighbourhood. Although some of the residents had been here for a couple of generations, other ethnic groups had moved in and out in waves. However, they all worked hard to make a living and shared the same values, worries and joys.

     Mark and Carol had taken the same bus into Boston for the last few years and both worked at Mass General.  Carol had a fulltime job and Mark part-time while he went to school.  Now Mark took the same bus into Boston where he had a full-time teaching job at Boston Latin School.

     While they waited at the bus stop outside the new SPRINT cell phone store, they saw a clerk setting up a sidewalk booth advertising the new VR Glasses.  These were the new virtual reality 3D kind that you could wear as sunglasses and then switch over to VR programming when you wanted. With VR turned on and a virtual program running, you really felt like you were in an alternate universe. Everything looked surreal.

     The clerk saw Mark and Carol and called them over to try on the glasses. Mark was a gadget guy and always interested in the new electronic items on the market.       

     The clerk Harry knew Mark and explained, “These glasses are the brand new model just out today.  In addition to selecting built in VR programs, this pair also has AI, Artificial Intelligence, which allows it to make up its own VR program scenario based on what it senses from the surroundings.  It’s like it has its own imagination.”

     Mark and Carol each tried on a pair of the glasses, switched them on and said, “Wow, these are unbelievable. Everything looks so real and interactive”.

     Harry continued, “If you wear them for 24 hours and complete a customer survey, the store will give each of you a $100 gift certificate. You can switch them on and off with this button that is on the side of the glasses.”

     Mark and Carol were already hooked on the novelty and the great entertainment feature they would have pairing it with their Sony video game console. Carol looked at Mark and said, “If it doesn’t cost us anything why not try them.  What do we have to lose?”

     Mark agreed and told Harry, “We’ll try both pairs.”

     Harry said, “Just sign here and you can take them.”

     The wind started picking up again just as the bus arrived. The doors opened as several passengers started getting out. Carol and Mark were standing on the sidewalk at the bus stop and moved closer to the bus door to get on, just as some unruly teens that were walking by shoved the crowd forward and then ran off. Some patrons stumbled on the sidewalk but then recovered without falling. The teens laughed as they quickly ran away. 

     An older woman in the crowd shouted, “I saw you Johnny and I’m going to call your father and tell him what you did.”

     The passengers continued boarding the bus as they watched the teens all turn and give them the finger.  Most of the passengers lived in the same neighbourhood and knew each other.  Although they lived in the same area, it was hard to judge the reaction from the crowd about the teen’s behaviour.  Although they had differences, decent behaviour and caring for one another should transcend all cultures.

     Johnny would surely be sorry tonight for pulling that prank. His father didn’t hold back with strict discipline. He was from the old country where manners and respect for elders was a top priority. However, younger parents today were of the opinion to spare the rod and use psychology when disciplining their kids. Maybe that will work but only the future will tell. Society was getting too soft.

     As the bus pulled away, the sky darkened with a loud clap of thunder and bright flash of light. The bus shook violently and the passengers were tossed about. After a few minutes everything settled down and the bus travelled a few blocks to its next stop.

     Mark turned to Carol in the seat next to him and said, “Look out the window at the buildings there. They weren’t that color yesterday.”

     Carol gazed out the side window and gasped before saying, “Wolper’s Department Store is gone and there is a Flying Bike Shop in its place.”

     The stores’ signs were changed too. The people walking by wore funny bright-colored clothes. Mark thought he was dreaming and quickly blinked his eyes. Everyone on the bus saw the same thing and started talking loudly.

      Several passengers started shouting, “What’s happening? Why is everything outside changed?” Some started screaming. Others were praying out aloud. Everyone ran for the bus doors and tried to get out all at once. After a lot of pushing and shoving, they scrambled for the doors and pushed them open.

     Bursting out of the bus doors and landing on the sidewalk, the passengers continued crying and shouting. Several started to run while yelling for help. Suddenly, there was a loud voice coming from speakers on lamp poles.

     The voice commanded, “Stop running and stand still. This is a restricted quiet zone.”

     The crowd ignored the speaker and continued yelling.     

     Suddenly, nets exploded from a parking meter pole and snared all those running.  Luckily, Mark and Carol were still standing near the bus and avoided the net. The net pulled tight and the noisy crowd was yanked up against the pole.  Seconds later, a flying police car hovered up next to the pole. The car’s door opened and the net with the trapped people was hauled up into the back. The door shut and the car flew away.

     Mark was in shock with his mouth opened wide. He then saw a bystander wearing colorful neon clothes coming down the sidewalk and said to him, “What was that?”  As the bystander moved, the color of his clothes changed like a chameleon reflecting the color of the surroundings. It was like living camouflage fading in and out of sight.

     The chameleon man replied, “You must be new here. That was our police in action. They call it a crowd control device.  Arrest first and ask questions later. They got rid of the old rule of – ‘stop and frisk’.”

     Mark asked, “What will happen to them?”

     Mr. Chameleon replied, “Don’t worry. They will be processed and dropped back here in an hour. The process involves injecting them with a micro ID chip. The chip will read their personal DNA code like the old finger print ID. They will then have Federal Bank credits added to their personal account with several credits deducted for the noise violation.”

     The chameleon man continued, “You need to tell your friends to be careful not to commit any more violations. The local sheriff has a three strike policy.”

     Mark said, “What happens on the third strike?

     The chameleon replied, “Funny that you are not aware of this law. It’s used world-wide by all civilized countries. On the third strike you are put in a Bee-Hive Dormitory. The BVD is shaped like a diaper. You know, ‘Poop In and Poop Out’. It is used as a means of population control. All 3-strike violators, criminals, immigrants, poor, homeless and just those lucky to be selected by the Power Ball lottery are put into mandatory bee-hive hibernation for one year. It’s like the Draft but there are no deferments. The lottery selection is controlled by the world-wide annual birth-death equalizer. You sleep in a tube with a Pop-Up timer inserted in your belly button. When you’re done, the timer pops.”

     Mark laughed and said, “You’re joking. That is ridiculous.”

     The chameleon said, “No-way Jose, come this way, okay.”, as he showed Mark an interactive TV screen on the wall of an adjacent building. The building looked like one that Mark lived in when he was a young boy.

     Mark said, “Wait, this old apartment building looks familiar. It used to be a three decker with five room apartments on each floor.”

     Chameleon man replied, “That was a long time ago. They rehabbed all the old buildings and made four-six foot square condo sleeping cubes out of each twelve foot square room. Now the building houses sixty sleeping condo cubes instead of three apartments to alleviate the housing crisis and population increase. You enter each cube through this pneumatic elevator cube-tube.  I just love the sound that it makes, ’wooooosht’. The rent is easy too. It’s all been rolled into a double barrel shotgun reverse mortgage that is given as a gift in perpetuity to all family survivors.  It’s called the ‘Yoke for Life’.”

    “But first look over here at the public TV monitor on the side of the building,” said the chameleon as he pressed the touch screen. A menu came up that showed the titles –NEWS, WEATHER, SPORTS, POLICE LOG.  He pressed the police log button that showed a picture of the netted passengers all strapped to a conveyor belt moving along as a robotic arm injected a micro ID chip into their wrist.

     He pressed another button that showed a wide angle picture of a large farm on the coast. Along the shore you could see several large buildings. There was the Bee-Hive Dormitory, Solar Wind Farm, Waste Water Treatment Plant, and a Hydroponic Marijuana Plantation.

     Mr. Chameleon explained, “We are quite advanced here in Space City. We have a Solar Wind Collector that absorbs cosmic rays from the sun and gives us unlimited energy. The Marijuana Plantation grows genetically modified plants to produce a nutrient rich Granola Bar. This GMO Bar can sustain a person for one week without additional food sources. The bar is also fortified with nutrient rich waste water to give you that extra punch.  In addition, it provides male sterility to regulate a percentage of the population. It’s just Yummy and lasts more than four hours.”

     Carol and Mark gasped in shock and said, “What?”

     Mark then turned and got closer to a parking meter pole and saw a sign that read, ‘One Hour Parking, Only Bitter Coins Accepted by Bluetooth or Redtooth, Crowd Control Active, Take the Time to Report a Crime on Your Bitter Dime”

     Mark and Carol turned to the chameleon man and said in unison, “What’s Redtooth?”

     Mr. Chameleon looked puzzled and said, “You really must live way out in the sticks. Redtooth is the new virtual banking system.  You people in the outer regions are still living with the old technology from last century.  That must be why you are wearing funny dark clothes. You probably have a job out there in the sticks and work hard for a living. Here in SPACE CITY we live in a socialist society where everyone is given an allowance based on their social class. Everyone is on the government dole.”

     Mark was certainly confused. He thought to himself, “Has the time somehow changed? Why is everything so different?  All the odd people, funny clothes, flying cars, police with nets, virtual banking...”  

Carol looked at a sign in the store window that gave the date and time. It read...

 Date … September 17, 2116 - Time… Earth/Moon 9:10 AM – Weather … Smog Alert, Expect Solar Showers, Use Sunscreen 200

     The chameleon then yelled from a distance, “If you want to go back to the sticks, take the next bus. It only makes one trip a week through the worm hole.”

     The crowd that had been netted was returned by a flying car and dropped at the bus stop.  They all looked stunned from their ordeal and were ready to go home.

     Mark didn’t want to believe the chameleon man but everything looked so strange. He tried asking another question but Mr. Chameleon walked away and turned the corner. As the sky darkened again, the bus pulled up and the door opened. The driver said “Non Stop Time Warp Express.”

     Mark grabbed Carol and said, “We better get on or we will be stuck here in the Future.” All the passengers from the earlier trip also piled on the bus not wanting to be left behind.  In addition, some new passengers hopped on at the last minute.

     The bus driver said, “Please pay the fare with your Virtual Charlie Cards.”  Mark took out a dollar bill and handed it to the driver. The driver looked puzzled and said, “You illegal immigrants always try to beat the system. You never pay your fair share of virtual taxes and you still expect all the benefits. We don’t make change on this bus and we don’t accept fake money. Follow the rope line and sit in the seats at the rear. You will know when you are at the end of your rope when you reach the back Mack.  At the end of the line, the terminal collector will have you pay with sweat-equity or a pound of flesh. So roll up your sleeves and move along. ”

     Carol turned to Mark and said, “Why do we have to roll up our sleeves and what does he mean – ‘a pound of flesh’?”

     Mark was puzzled too. He looked around and saw a man in the next seat, with one hand. The man had no shirt on and wore chameleon colored pants and seamed to levitate about a foot above his seat. Mark asked the one-hand man, “Have you been in Space City before?”

     The man answered, “Yes, I make the trip each week to help pay the bills. I used to work in the financial district but lost my shirt and now I’m just flying by the seat of my pants.  I work so hard in the city that I feel like I have been through a meat grinder, especially last week when they asked me to work an extra few hours and lend a hand.”

     The bus took off again and the driver pressed the lever for Warp Speed.  The lights flashed, the bus shook and there was a loud sound of thunder. In a few minutes the bus came to another stop. The people slowly got up from their seats, hung their heads low and started to leave the bus.  As the passengers stepped to the sidewalk they saw three doors.  Above each door was a sign. Each sign was different. One read, ‘Chameleon Clothes’, (Made with the Finest Human Hair and Soaked in Sweat Equity).  The next sign read, ‘Handy Dandy the Butcher’, (Ground Round by the Pound as you hear the Sound). The third sign read, ‘Black Hole’ (Take You Chances).

     Some of the passengers hung their heads and walked through the first two doors as Carol and Mark heard loud screaming sounds. 

     Mark quickly said, “I think we should choose the third door and take our chances.”  He then grabbed Carol’s hand and together they quickly entered the Black Hole.

     Loud music started playing over the store speakers and confetti fell from the ceiling. The store manager came over to shake hands. He was wearing a clown costume with chameleon colors.

     Mark couldn’t believe his eyes and reached to take off his glasses. He realized that he still had on the VR glasses that he was wearing for the entire bus trip.  When he rubbed his eyes and looked again, the store manager was in a normal business suit and not the Clown Costume he thought he was wearing. Carol took off her glasses too and saw the same things. Balloons hung on the wall next to the store sign that read - ‘WALMART SUPERSTORE’.

     The manager then said, “Congratulations, you are the Millionth Customer to walk through the doors of our new store.  As a prize we would like to give you an - All Expenses Paid Trip to Space Mountain at Disney Land in Florida. In addition, you have won the grand prize which is a pair of the new Sony VR Glasses with Artificial Intelligence.”

     Mark looked around and was astonished.  After his ordeal and scare of a life time, he didn’t want anything to do with Space Mountain, VR Glasses or the Future.  He said, “Thanks but no thanks, we are done with virtual reality and the future.  We like everything the way it is. Besides, just look around and you will see all the spaced out weirdos you ever would want to see, right here in Super Duper Wally-Mart. This place is like a circus. Just let me point out all the characters. Look over there at Jumbo Jane with the Spandex Pants, Tattoo Theresa with the World Map on her arms, Paul the Plumber with his Pants Low and the Grand Canyon Crack, and Prancing Patty with the Purple Hair.”

          Carol added, “Maybe everything isn’t perfect here in the real world but we can surely count on:  Working Hard For a Living, Unfair Wages, Crooked Politicians, The Rich Getting Richer, Climate Change, Pollution, Population Explosion, Inequality, Illegal Drugs, Rising Crime and Increased Cost of Living. Life is just great.”

          Mark continued, “Now that we know this was all a joke caused by wearing those stupid VR Glasses, we are going to get on the next bus into Boston and back to work and enjoy a ‘Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood’.   At least a dollar a day will keep the wolves at bay.”

 

The End ….