GLASS SOUP by Jonathan Carroll (funny books to read .txt) 📕

to add two and two together. I don’t even know what that is here. Broximon and the others keep showing me things and obviously they’re as simple as pie to them, but not to me. No sir—I go home and stare at the wall, trying to put it all into focus and get some kind of big picture. But you know what? The only conclusion I ever come to is Huh? I—don’t-understand. Basically nothing. Do you understand how depressing that is? Do you have any idea of how stupid it makes you feel?

“So thanks but no thanks, Bob. You can keep the secret of the universe. I’m confused enough as it is.” Haden rubbed his mouth hard and then in frustration, slid his hand up over his face to the top of his head and rubbed it furiously, as if putting out a little fire up there.

The bear watched all this with calm equanimity. When Haden was done, it said, “Too bad. You’ve got to know it so that you can save Isabelle.” And with a small wave of its paw, Bob showed Haden the secret of the universe.

It took about the same amount of time as a hummingbird needs to flap its wings once. The secret of the universe is not a large thing nor is it particularly complex. That’s man’s problem—he keeps thinking it is and consequently looks for it in all the wrong places.

Haden emerged from his new knowledge the way a deep-earth miner emerges from the elevator that has lifted him back up to the surface: blinking against the bright sunlight, slightly dizzy, straining to find his correct mental and physical gravity. Because where he has just come from bears no resemblance to where he is now. It is both disorienting and breathtaking at the same time.

What Haden did not know was that what Bob had just done to him broke the most important rule of the afterlife. Literally, it had never been done before. Everything after death was intended to be deduced or discovered, deciphered, decoded or deconstructed by the individuals themselves. No being was ever to be taught the secrets of death by others. Rule number one. That’s the way it had always been—until now.

Haden finally “saw” Bob and said without thinking, “Karya buryamp.”

Bob nodded and answered, “Skeena haloop.”

“Clapunda la me.”

The polar bear heaved a sigh and commiserated, “Gorpop.”

“Let’s speak English, Bob. I’m not used to those other words yet.”

“Whatever you like.”

“How am I going to do this? Where am I supposed to start?”

For the first time since their conversation began, the bear hesitated and looked away. Haden noticed and didn’t like it. Knowing the secret of the universe had made him a little more sensitive to the moment. “What?”

The animal still wouldn’t look at him. “Nothing.”

“What, Bob? Eye contact, please. You’re not looking at me. Yes, I noticed.”

“Chaos wants to keep Isabelle here. That’s why it keeps bringing her: it wants her to give birth to the baby here. If that happens, neither of them will ever be able to return to their world.”

Because he was an irredeemably selfish person, despite knowing the secret of the universe, Haden didn’t mind that idea; no, not at all. Granted, the child wasn’t his, but the notion of having Isabelle around (and another chance at her) brought his thoughts to happy attention.

“That can’t happen, Simon. Her child has to be born there and live its life there.”

“Why?”

The polar bear roared. Not like a cuddly, pillow-talking polar bear might, but a full-throated, shit-your-pants/run-for-your-life wild animal roar. It was huge and deafening and froze Haden down to his cells.

“Stop thinking alive, Simon. Think dead, because alive is finished for you. You live some place else now. And here there are vastly more important matters to concern yourself with.

“No more pussy, Simon. Get it? No more double vodkas at the bar with a wide-screen TV and complimentary pretzels. Time’s up, you stupid motherfucker.”

“What—” Haden could barely squeak out that one small word. Fear had him by the throat and rightly so: the bear looked like it was on the brink of killing him, or worse. It was close enough to snatch him up in one enormous white paw and crunch him like a piece of lettuce. “What do you want me to do, Bob? I’ll do anything.”

“You have to go to Ropenfeld.”

“I won’t do it,” Haden said without hesitation.

The bear roared again, even more furiously this time. But Simon Haden didn’t even blink.

“No Ropenfeld. No way, no day,” he said decisively. There was no give in his voice. Polar bear or no polar bear, this was a closed issue.

Seeing that he meant it, Bob decided to cool the roars and try a little diplomacy instead. “Isabelle is in Ropenfeld, Simon. That’s where they keep taking her, although she hasn’t met any of your nightmares there yet.”

Just the thought of Ropenfeld sent a cold lizard scurrying up Haden’s spine. Looking at Bob, he vividly remembered the night years and years ago that he dreamt, or rather nightmared, that he was being made to tear the bear apart and feed the pieces to his hateful little sister. Gouts of ropy blood spouted from the pieces as he pulled them off one by one. Blood ran down the corners of his sister’s mouth as she happily, greedily devoured each and every scrap of Simon’s adored stuffed animal. Even the eyes. All this happened in Ropenfeld. Dreams like that always took place in Ropenfeld.

It began when Haden was a child. His father’s boss was named Ropenfeld. A man and thus a name despised in the Haden family for as long as Simon lived at home. According to his parents, Ropenfeld was evil and did everything he could to make poor Mr. Haden’s life miserable.

One night little Simon had a nightmare that took place in a town he was told by one of its citizens was named Ropenfeld. When he said it for the first time, the man stretched out the name so that