My Library

I wasn’t quite sure what to say, or if I should say anything. I fully anticipated talking about higher sense perception. Karagulla took the initiative. "So, Mr. Swann, what do you think of parapsychology?" "Well, Madame. That depends. Do you want a social answer or a frank one?" I don’t know what possessed me to say that, and I winced as it came out of my big mouth. "Whatever suits you," she replied. My next words also came all by themselves. "Well, with a few exceptions, parapsychology sucks." I was certain now that I had wrecked the whole evening. "Oh," she replied. "I’ve never heard it put quite that way." "I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that word." THEN! A saw one of Karagulla’s hands flutter up to her mouth to hide a smile beginning to form. THEN! I felt a big laugh forming in my belly. I started giggling--and she did too. We both started laughing--hard, those hard laughs that bring tears up. The Tiller’s came rushing into the room with the drinks, looking quite worried, to find their two guests sort of bent over to their knees shaking with laughter not very well under control. Taking her drink from Jean, Karagulla commented: "Well, as you said, he chooses his words well." At which she and I lost it altogether, gulping down the liquor between spasms. Additional drinks now had to be fetched--with Jean leaning down saying: "What did you do to her? She hardly drinks at all?" Meanwhile, I espied a young boy (the Tiller’s son, Jeff) riding a balanced bicycle across a length of two-by-four stretched across the swimming pool.