This is 911 what’s your emergency? Tight lip sobbing on the other end… “Shots fired!” Sir what’s your name? “Al Hystra.” Al where are you now? “I’m kind of all over the floor, I’ve been hit. I’m still in my seat… here at Mel’s diner on west 4th street!” “Mr. Hysteria… wait just a moment sir, ahh my boyfriend is… sorry!! Mr. Al, I need you to listen carefully to what I tell you. For your safety you need to crawl under your table, if possible, then pull out your small bore, umm pistol and be ready to shoot at anything that moves. Can you do that for me Mr. AL? Good. Also please keep this line open for training purposes, ok? I have dispatched a squadron of patrolmen to the diner. They should be storming it any minute.” Al’s sobbing grows weaker, he moans, “No, please, no more guns!” 30 minutes earlier It is a dire time in the USA since gun violence and fear have buddied-up at an all-time high, forcing even the humblest of person’s to carry a concealed weapon of their choice. One particular night I sat solo at a meager booth tucked into the rear corner next to the kitchen’s swinging Dutch doors. Now this was a very popular diner on any hectic Friday evening. To note; I had the haddock, blackened and a little crisp, mmm! Plus, I always keep to myself so I really didn’t notice how or when Elias may have slipped in. Now I know everybody doesn’t carry, and it seems the ones that do make the loudest stir. Even with all the erroneous clamoring going on this night, I sensed that a rude dude was causing a ruckus at the cash register. As I happened to glance over towards the register, there in his right hand was a small bore handgun pointed at the body of the waitress. Abruptly someone shrieked, “Robbery in progress!” I recall a guy at the next table over from me springing to his feet in one rash move, pulling his pistol from his inner coat pocket. His hand was trembling uncontrollably when he fired, hitting another patron between the eyes. At that moment a fellow standing by the front door pulled his gun from his shoe, but in all the chaos, it was knocked out of his hand - onto the floor where it discharged, fatally hitting a child. I don’t know when, but I was hit in the gut while cowering at my table; bleeding profusely and coughing up blood as my supper dispensed from the wound. Utter and complete pandemonium consumed the diner in seconds. In all, two waitresses, a man in a wheel chair and three children were killed that fateful night, countless others wounded… the robber escaped unscathed. I would have expired if not for the help of an odd man which I had met earlier that evening, just before entering the diner. To wit, I stuffed a couple of bucks into his tattered coat pocket and he acknowledged my kindness with a swirly grin. Now that insane man was kneeling over me speaking in an amicable strange tongue as I lie inert. He squeezed my hand and continued a verbal utterance as his voice penetrated my soul, all the while holding a fixated gaze into my glossed over pupils. Then he repeated a chant I’ll never be able to clear from my mind… “I command you to stay spirit.” My own kindred dream-shadow now faded as my life renewed. The paramedics’ carted me away and I fully recovered. Hence, I never returned to that dreadful diner…to-wit I never thanked my savior.