CLOSING DOOR I LIVED IN A LARGE MANSION WHEN YOUNG AND THERE WERE ALWAYS DOORS SLAMMING AND THE SMELL OF BOURBON REEKING ABOUT LIKE SWEET FRUIT ROTTING. I SWORE TO CHANGE AS I MATURED. I DID. I EDUCATED MYSELF, LEARNED ABOUT THE GREAT ARTISTE'. READ THE PARISIAN EXPATRIOTS. GATHERED WITH THE FIGHTERS THAT WOULD FEED THE POBRES. I LEARNED COMPASSION FORM THE SIDDARTHA, THE GREAT BUDDHA. I READ UNTIL MY EYES BLED AND MY BRAIN POUNDED FROM FILLING IT. I TRAVELED AND STUDIED THE GREAT WONDERS AND ALWAYS THE ANIMALS OF THE SEA, I COLLECTED MOLLUSKS, THOSE EMPTY HOMES OF SEAS CREATURES. THEIR HOMES MEANT SOMETHING TO ME, MORE THEN THE MANSION THAT WAS NOW MINE I CAN'T RECALL SINCE I TOOK TO THE BOURBON WHY I LOVED THEM SO MUCH, MAYBE THE SLAMMING DOORS. I MET A WOMAN ON THE BEACH SINGING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS. SHE HADN'T SEEN ME YET AND I WATCHED AND THERE WAS NO HUMOUR TO IT OR EMBARESSMENT TO FEEL, SHE WAS IN HER GLORY. I HAD BEEN DIVING AND FOUND A NARWHAL HORN, THE NARWHAL, THE UNICORN OF THE SEA, RESMBLING A MANATEE WITH A UNICORN HORN THOUGH SPIRALED. IT WAS AS IF I HAD FOUND THE ATOCHA. GOLD DUBLOONS WERE NO GOOD TRADE FOR THIS HORN. AS SHE HIT A HIGH AND PERFECT NOTE OF AN IRISH BALLAD AND HER RED HAIR AND GREEN EYES FAIRLY SHONE LIKE THE SUN ON THE SEA. AS SHE HIT THE HIGHEST NOTE, SHE NOTICED ME. HER FACE BECAME LIKE A HORRID SUNBURN FROM THE SHYNESS. SHE EXPECTED EMPTINESS ON THE BEACH. SHE WAS CHARMING AND SO BRIGHT AND I A RICH KID ABLE TO DO MY WILL. IT WAS OBVIOUS TO HER THAT I WAS WELL HEELED AND NEEDED NOT WORK. SOFT HANDS AND STRONG MUSCLES FROM TENNIS AND SWIMMING, THERE IS A DIFFERENCE THEN THOSE OF WORKING MAN. ALTHOUGH I HAVE HAD MY SHARE OF THE HARD LICK. WE TALKED FOR A LONG WHILE AND SHE WAS AN OCEANOGRPHER AND KNEW MUCH OF THE SEA. SHE FASCINATED ME, SO DARK AND TAN AND THE ROPES OF MUSCLES SHE HAD IN HER LEGS AND HER ARMS WERE SO ENTICING, VERY STRONG THIS IRISH LASS. SHE KEPT ALLUDING TO THE NARWHAL HORN WITH ENVY. SHE FLIRTED MIGHTILY THAT DAY AND FINALLY SHE TALKED ME INTO LETTING HE TAKE THE RARE HORN TO SHOW HER OCEANOGRAPHER GROUP THE HORN WHICH ONLY A FEW OF EXISTED AT THE TIME. AS SHE WALKED, NO SKIPPED DOWN THE BEACH, MY HEART BEGAN TO SINK. TO CLEAR A MATTER UP, HANDSOME YOUNG RICH KIDS GET NO BREAK IN LOVE, THEY ARE TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF, LIED TO, AND LEFT TO HANG IN THE WIND AS THE WOMAN TIRES OF THE OPULENCE AND THEY MOVE ON TO SOME MORE SECURE SETTING. AS SHE BECAME A SPECK, I SAT, A FOOL AGAIN, DAMN, A FOOL AGAIN. SITTING WITH THE DUST OF THE HORN IN MY HAND AND THE THIEF OF HEARTS WITH MY NARWAHL HORM PREPARING A PRICE FOR IT. GENTLEMEN, ONE CLARIFICATION, I MIGHT HAVE KNOWN WHAT WAS TO BE, I WAS USED TO IT. EVERY TIME I HAD MY STIPEND TO TRAVEL AND LIVE, WAS STRIPPED IN SOME WAYS WORSE THEM MY HEART FOR ITS VERY BLOOD IN EVERY CASE, I THE GENTLEMAN AND SINCERE TO THE BONE WAS AN EASY MARK. AS I AGE LIKE THIS DELICIOUS AGED BOURBON BEFORE ME, MY ONLY TRUE FRIEND, I AM ABLE TO ERASE THE HORN AND ALL THE LOSSES. IT DOES TAKE A MIGHTY DRAUGHT THESE DAYS TO CREAT AMNESIA, BUT I HAVE BECOME AN EXPERT. AND THE DOORS CONTINUE TO SLAM SHUT. WRITTEN BY MICHAEL FORBUS THERE ARE NO LIVE PEOPLE THAT I KNOW IN THIS WORK, I DISAVOW THE KNOWLEDGE OF ANY ONE RESMEBLING ANY PERSONAGE PORTRAYED IN THE A STORY OF FICTION BUT MYSELF AND I HAVE GIVEN MYSELF PERMISSION TO DISCUSS MY OWN LIFE, NO ONE ELSE IS REAL. MIGUEL