I could hear a phone ringing. It couldn't be my phone. The last time my phone rang was two months ago, and that was just that young girl trying to sell me magazines. I tried to return to my dream.

"Tom, Tom, wake up."

That sounds like Perkins ... what the Hell does he want?

"Tom, damn it, wake up and answer your phone. It's driving me crazy." I open my eyes, glare at Perkins sitting there in his wheelchair, and grab the phone on my nightstand.

"Hello."

"Tommy? ... Is this Tommy Wilson?"

"Yes, it is, but who's this? Nobody ever calls me Tommy anymore."

"Tommy! It's me Skip ... Skip Townson, remember me? The last time we saw each other, you were flipping burgers at Pat-Mar's, and I was taking off to do some prospecting ... remember?"

Boy, did I remember. Sometimes I can't remember what happened yesterday, but forty years ago is crystal clear.

"Tommy, are you still there? why don't you answer?"

"Skip, I'm sorta in shock. It's been forty years, and when you never came back, we all figured you were dead."

"Well, I sure ain't dead. In fact, I'm doing pretty good these days. Tommy, I just got back in town, and I saw Porky last week. You remember Porky and his old Harley don't you?"

A picture of Porky and his prized black and chrome hog flashed into my mind. "Is he still around?" I did some rapid arithmetic. "He left California and moved to Florida twenty-five years ago."

"Well he came back ... lives in Whittier now. I'd sure like to come by and tell you all about what happened to me. That is if you wouldn't mind. I'm looking up all of my old friends, and trying to spend some time visiting with everybody."

"Sure Skip, I could sure use the company. Do you have my address?"

"Yeah, it's the Pleasant View Convalescent Home. It's on La Brea in Inglewood, isn't it?"

"Sure is Skip, when do you think you'll be here?"

"I'll be there 'bout four this afternoon. I'll bring a pizza and a six-pack, 'cause I've got a long thirsty story to tell." The line went dead, so I put the phone down.

"What the Hell was that all about?" Perkins' one good eye was rolling with curiosity and his scrawny Adam's apple bobbed up and down, as he snorted down the oxygen through the two tubes stuck up his nose.

"Old friend of mine is coming for a visit," I bragged.

"When he gets here, I think I'll visit with him out in the garden; since you've been so shitty about what we watch on your television set. He did say that he was bringing pizza and beer."

Old Perkins tried to talk, his high pitched voice sounded like he had a bad case of wheezing laryngitis.

"Tom Wilson, you do that, and I swear I'll cut your throat while you sleep. You know that neither of us has had a visitor in over a year. You're gonna sit right here and visit, so I can hear too. While we're waiting, why don't you tell me all about him. I ain't never heard you talk about no Skip."

"Okay, but don't be interrupting like you always do.

I first met Skip Townson back in Forty-eight. I was fry-cooking at Pat-Mar's Drive-In. A popular eatery located at the corner of Sepulveda and Imperial Highway ... close to the Los Angeles International Airport.

"Skip started coming by every day. He'd have one of our thirty-cent cheeseburger specials and a cup of coffee. We gave unlimited refills on the coffee; so he'd sit and read the classified section and load up on free coffee."

"He spent so much time at the counter that we soon formed a sort of over-the-counter friendship. He'd been out of the Navy for almost a year, was dead broke, and unemployed. His "Fifty-Two-Twenty Club" payments from Uncle Sam were all used up, and he was living under the pier in Redondo Beach."

"A real bum, huh?"

"There you go interrupting again, Perk. -- can't listen two minutes without interrupting. I ain't gonna say another word."

"Sorry ... I forgot. Won't do it agin."

"Okay, then don't ... Skip's luck sorta changed in May. He came into the restaurant grinning like a fool, ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a rootbeer shake. He held out a fistful of money and told me that it was his lucky day. He said his folks had been killed in an accident, and left him a bundle. He wasn't the least bit sad, acted like he won the lottery."

"I'll tell ya, Perk, That guy got so greedy, he argued over paying for the funeral. He got the family home in Manhattan Beach, and he also received ten thousand dollars in cash after the funeral expenses and the estate taxes were paid.

"Old Skip knew he didn't stand much of a chance of finding work, so he decided to become a prospector. He told me that he'd just go up in the mountains and find some gold. Then he wouldn't have to worry about working."

"He bought a War Surplus Willys Jeep, a dry washer, and all sorts of mining tools. He had that old Jeep painted fire-engine red; then, he coated it with several layers of polish.

"After polishing his `Burro` till it shone, he drove into Pat-Mar's to show it to me. He said he was going prospecting in the morning. I wished him luck and told him to be careful. When he left, he went home to pack.

"I guess it was about two weeks before I realized that Old Skip hadn't been in for his usual burger and coffee. I asked around, and nobody had seen him since he left to go prospecting. Some of the local Manhatten Beach police ate their lunch at the drive-in, so I told them about Skip being missing.

"Two weeks after that, this detective, I think his name was Anderson, stopped by and asked me what I knew about Skip Townson. I told him everything I knew including the part about the inheritance and the new, red war-surplus jeep, Skip was driving."

"That was back in June of forty-eight. They never found Skip or his jeep. I had forgotten all about him until I got this phone call."

Perkins Adam's apple bobbed excitedly, "And this afternoon... after all these years, he's back and coming to tell you what happened. Shit Oh Dear, Tom, this is our lucky day. I can hardly wait."

"Promise me one thing, Perk. Promise me that you'll just listen. Don't be interrupting or mooching off him; or, by God, we will go out into the garden and leave you here sucking on your oxygen bottle."

"I promise, but maybe just one cigarette. Huh Tom?"

"No damn it, one cigarette and you'll be coughing and hacking all night long. No way! You'd probably blow us all up, when you lit it." Perkins was almost seventy and his emphysema was so bad he was on oxygen twenty-four hours a day.

I gave up smoking twenty years ago after I lost one lung to cancer. Two years ago, a stroke put me here in this nursing home. My daughter couldn't care for me. She and her military husband were somewhere in Europe. Perk and I had been roomys for two years now. The only real family we had, was each other.

At five minutes after four, Perk was glaring accusingly at me, and I was checking my watch every ten seconds.

I could see anyone coming down the hall by watching the curved mirror over the door. I was so busy looking for Skip that I didn't even look at the young guy carrying the cardboard box. When he walked into our room grinning and blurted out, "Hi Tommy, long time no see." I almost had a heart attack. It was Skip -- Skip looking exactly as he did forty years ago.

I guess I musta gone pale or something because he got a worried look on his face. "Tommy, are you all right? Should I call the doctor or someone?"

"No, damn it! I may be old, but I ain't stupid. You can't be Skip, Sonny. You've got to be Skip's son or something. If he's trying to play a joke on me, I don't think it's very damn funny, damn near had a heart attack. Where's he hiding? get him in here."

"Tommy, it's no joke. It's really me, Skip. If you'll just be a little patient, I'll pop open a couple cans of beer, and we'll have some pizza while I tell you all about what happened. By the way, who's your friend with the tubes up his nose?"

"Well Skip, if you are Skip, this is my roomy, Perkins. He's the only family I've got left, and if you don't mind, he'd sure like to share in the beer and pizza. I promised that he could listen in on the story, okay?" Skip nodded his agreement, shook old Perkins hand, and divided up the beer and pizza.

Skip grinned, leaned back and started out by saying he hoped he wouldn't put us to sleep ... "Let's see now ... the morning I left on my prospecting trip, I took Route 66 until I was about ten miles north of Victorville. A little ways north of a mining town called Oro Grande, I headed east into the mountains on a little narrow dirt road."

"I drove around for two hours looking for signs of gold. I checked out old tailing piles, shoveled a lot of Mojave sand into my dry washer, and busted up several promising rocks, but found no gold. I got to thinking that it might not be quite as easy as I thought.

"Then, I drove for another hour looking for signs that might tell me the way back to the pavement.

"Man, did I get lost! I got out and climbed to the top of the nearest hill. As I looked around, I couldn't see any roads but I did see a large cave in the base of a mountain. I would have to drive cross-country to get there. My curiosity was working overtime, so I jumped into my Jeep and headed for the cave.

"When I got to the cave, I saw that the entrance was large enough to drive the Jeep inside. Not wanting to walk into that dark hole on foot, I turned on the lights, and drove the Jeep into the cave.

"By the light of the Jeep's headlights, I could see a large empty room. I could also see a wide vein of what looked like gold in the back wall.

"I examined the wall. It was solid rock. I had a pick but the thought of all the work involved in digging in solid rock really bummed me out.

"Aha!" I thought, "I brought some dynamite. I'll just blow a chunk out of the wall."

"In no time at all, I picked a deep hole in the wall and stuck in three sticks of dynamite. I lit the fuse and hid behind the Jeep. The explosion was deafening and the roaring seemed to go on forever.

"When the dust cleared, I discovered the reason for all the noise. The entrance was gone. There was only a wall of huge boulders. By the hazy light of the Jeep headlights, I could see greenish looking gas seeping out of the hole, I had blasted in the back wall. I fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep..."

Tommy paused, drained his beercan, and popped open another. "Hope I'm not putting you guys to sleep, but I'm trying to tell it just the way it happened."

Perk, who had been leaning forward, so he wouldn't miss a word snarled, "No, No Damn it, get on with the story."

"Shut up, Perk. You promised..." His head bobbed up and down angrily; then, he leaned back and made a zipper motion across his lips. Tommy grinned and continued,

"Like I was saying, I was out cold in a completely dreamless sleep, when I felt someone shaking me, rolling me back and forth, and bouncing me up and down. I grumbled, mumbled, rolled over, and went back to sleep. Then someone started shining a damn spotlight in my eyes. I covered my eyes with my hand and sat up. I suddenly came to my senses. The cave in, being buried alive, it all came back with a rush."

"There was no spotlight, it was a beam of sunlight coming in through the entrance. Several large rocks had moved leaving an opening large enough to crawl through. The shaking must have been an earthquake.

"I grabbed a canteen from the jeep. When I shook it, I knew I still had water. I crawled through the opening and started walking in a westerly direction. I had to go by guess-timation, but from the angle of the sun and the intensity of the heat, I figured I was close.

"The sun was almost down when I stumbled onto the pavement. I was exhausted and hungry enough to eat my own boots. I sat alongside the road and waited for a car to come along.

"The first one that came along didn't look like any car I'd ever seen. I couldn't see through the windows and it didn't even slow down. Several passed, then one coming from Victorville direction arrived, made a "U" turn, and stopped.

"The logo on the car door said, "California Highway Patrol." The officer asked me what I was doing out in the desert on foot?

"I told him the whole story, and asked if I could get a ride into Victorville? I said that I would catch a bus into Berdoo and then ride the streetcar home."

"The Cop looked at me suspiciously and asked for my identification. I gave him my drivers licence."

"The Cop took one look at it, and the color started rising in his face and neck. He asked if I had anything else, Said that my licence had expired forty years ago.

"I knew better, but I couldn't help saying as I handed over my bank-book and social security card, If there's a nut loose around here, it isn't me! I just got that licence in nineteen forty-five, so it couldn't be expired. That's my thumb print on the licence, and The United States Navy has my thumb print on record. So check it out, I don't have any warrants.

"The Cop looked perplexed, as he handed back my papers. He told me, `There's something wrong here. I don't know what it is, but let's get you checked out at the station. Then we'll either take you home or to a hospital, where you can get help.

"I said that I didn't need any help. All I needed was a bath, a half dozen cheeseburgers, and a way to get home. He didn't answer, so I just leaned back, shut my mouth, and enjoyed the scenery back into Victorville."

"Fellows," Skip stood up and stretched. "I'm gonna have to stop here and make a run to the liquor store. I'm plum out of beer and my throat is getting pretty dry. Can I get you anything while I'm there?"

I had finished my two cans, so I was about to chip in a couple a bucks toward another six-pack, when I looked over at old Perk. His old Adam's apple was really working overtime, and I knew what mixed emotions he was suffering. Finally, his curiosity overcame his greed.

"No, No Skip, take my other beer. I'm not supposed to be drinking anyway. Just take it and get on with the damn whopper you've been telling. I can't wait to hear the end of this."

"Well okay, I'm getting pretty close to the end anyway." Skip took the beer and took his first, three long swallows. I could see old Perk was almost drooling.

"Anyway as I was saying, I stopped talking and settled back to enjoy the ride into Victorville. When we arrived in Victorville, I started having doubts about my own sanity. The place had grown into a city overnight.

"The Cop, Whose name turned out to be Don Drake, bought a newspaper for me to read while they checked me out on something called a computer. Reading the world and local news did more to convince me that it was nineteen eighty- eight than any conversation could. I was shocked and amazed, but had to concede that I really had slept for forty years.

"What made it so damned unbelievable was that my fingernails and hair were the same length as when I went to sleep. I went into the toilet and checked myself out in the mirror ... I hadn't changed one little bit."

"The cops after fingerprinting me and checking with the State and the Pentagon came to the shocking conclusion that I was the one and only, Skip Townson.

"I was told there was no reason to return to Manhattan Beach because my home was now part of a shopping mall. There had been no surviving heirs, so the state had taken the entire estate including the money in the bank.

"The State Senator for the High Desert area had been contacted and agreed to my being quartered at the Hilton at the Senators own expense. He was sure this would all be sorted out to everyone's satisfaction very soon.

"The news traveled fast. By the next morning, I had offers from several talk shows for personal appearances. Everyone wanted to see the sixty-four year old man that looked twenty-four.

"I had a visitor at eleven in the morning. The man introduced himself as Reggie Black. He said he was an attorney and he would be happy to work on contingency to help me get my estate back.

"I thought as I looked at Reggie, I'll just bet this is an honest guy. He sure looks like a straight shooter to me.

"Reggie, how would you like to go into partnership with me? I don't know anything about this modern world, but I do know how to make us a lot of money. You could be my business and legal advisor and together we could make millions. What do you say?"

"Reggie looked at me suspiciously and asked, `Besides selling Hell out of your story and maybe book and movie rights, what else can you do to make money?`

"I grinned and proceeded to lay out my plan. By the time I finished, Reggie was grinning and outlining some ideas of his own. We had a deal."

"We bought the equipment and went into production. Reggie took care of incorporation and land acquisition. We worked together on the marketing and advertising.

"Soon, we were making money faster than we could count it. 'Seems like when the Aging Hollywood Crowd saw what I looked like at sixty-four, they couldn't wait to purchase the equipment and a supply of that strange green gas.

"They wanted to breath it at night while they were asleep, so they would age only half as fast."

Skip's voice was turning sorta sad.

"You gotta believe me, Tommy. I really am your friend, Skip, who went to sleep just yesterday and woke up today to find that most of my friends are dead. The few, who are alive are sitting around with tubes up their noses waiting to die. I don't know why I feel like I cheated, but I do.

"I'm worth a lotta money now, but all I feel is guilty about being young, alive, and healthy. I don't know what to do. I think I'll probably go back to sleep for another fifty years, or at least until the sad reminders are all gone."

"I just want you to know that this whole story is the truth. Yes Sir, every word! ... 'Cept maybe that part about me finding an honest lawyer.

"One last thing before I go -- is there anything I can do for you or for your friend, Perkins? Is there anything you need or want? Just name it."

I looked over at Perk and replied, "Perkins is a good friend, but he's got a mean streak. That's his television up there, and we can only watch what he wants to watch. I sure would like one of my own, so I could watch what I like once in a while."

"You got it, Tommy. Is that all? How about some of my green gas, so you could live for an extra few years?"

"Hell no!" I replied as I got my walker lined up toward the toilet. "I'll stick around as long as old Perk needs me; then, I'm outa here."

He smiled sadly and waved good-bye as he walked slowly down the hall.

That was the last I ever heard from Skip. He's probably sealed up in that cave waiting for me to croak; or maybe after his visit with us, he just decided not to wake up next time.

I've got a new, forty-two inch television sitting over there in the corner of the room. It never got hooked up because I figured if Perk and I stopped fighting over his tv, we wouldn't have much left to talk about. He might sneak out of here some night while I'm asleep, then I'd be all alone...
{END}