THROUGH MY EYES -- RON DAVIS

I hesitate to relate this story, but my journalistic integrity demands

that much of me.

It began with a clanking sound emanating from the darkened hallway,

and soon a vision of the deteriorated Jacob Mally appeared in my room

wearing heavy, big boxes around his neck, the weight of which almost

buckled his knees. I leaned closer to see that some of the names on

bigger boxes were Wards, Burlington, JCPenney and Mervyn’s.

Mally, referring to the boxes, said “These are the chains I’ve forged

in life.”

At least I was being haunted by a ghost with a sense of humor.

Initially, I chalked it up to too much plum pudding or a blot of fat, but

this past Christmas Eve, I was to suffer the visitation of three ghosts.

I won’t relate the horror of the past and the present, but address the

specter of the future, whose presence was assured by the ugly Mally.

With a wave of the specter’s hand, I found myself less than days away

from the end of 2002 floating in front of Fantastic Futures and the Palm

Reading Express at the new, rejuvenated Huntington Center. After admiring

the skulls and boar’s knuckles, I purchased a $5 deck of Tarot cards from

the owner, Crystal, who also ran the mall’s only dance club known as the

Crystal Ball.

The Crystal Ball was directly across from D’s Tattoos. The ghost

forced my acquaintance with D who told me he specialized in very small

tattoos he called D’Inky’s. When I turned my nose up at this smelly pun,

he reminded me that he was -- I’m not making any of this up -- a “pun

gent.” (Blame the ghost for these, not me.)

Immediately, the spirit drew my attention to Madame ‘d Puncture, the

owner of Lily’s Body Piercing Salon, which was next door to the Pizza

Heaven and Gift Boutique. The madame motioned me with a sly and subtle

wink, exposing the ever slight glint from the pewter needles lining her

eyelids. Her sensuous smile exposed the small silver dumbbell nestled in

her tongue, as she beckoned me to enter the salon.

Attracted as I was, I resisted, and for some unknown reason resolved

to spend my hard-earned money at one of the Huntington Beach mall’s major

tenants -- Carl’s Cz’s for Less.

Carl was a rather slender man in his late 30s or early 40s and ushered

me to the semi-clear plastic-covered showcases displaying his magnificent

and exceedingly rare cubic zirconium.

The spirit whispered that Carl’s floor safe secreted a prize

142-carat, Hope-it’s-a-Diamond Cz, which sometimes -- and only when the

moon and stars are properly aligned -- will be prominently displayed at

the revamped and Italian-style Burlingtoni and Wardamundi.

I asked Carl to open his special case and selected a magnificent

14-carat emerald cut cubic zirconium, as that very special Christmas gift

for my wife. The size was so spectacular, Carl motioned me to the

entrance of Phil and Bill’s Forklifts, so I may acquire that special

setting for the monster stone.

As I left the store, squinting in the luminance of the florescent

tubes gently cradled in the limbs of the concrete, but very real looking

Italian olive trees, I was accosted by two peculiar, but muscular men

exiting Kaplan’s Karate Korner, who insisted -- no, who mildly suggested

-- I had absconded with Carl’s merchandise. Of course, I protested my

innocence and dug deep into my pocket for the receipt and that very

special Carl’s Cz Certificate, only to find the fluff and other cotton

residue left in the pocket from the Iron Maiden Cleaners, located in

close proximity to Give Me a Brake Muffler and Disc Repair located at the

east end of the mall.

My breathing quickened as I searched my pockets for the missing

receipt. My heart skipped a beat, and then began to relax as my eyes

fixed on the sign of the newest tenant in the mall, Barney’s Bail Bonds

and Investments.

A great fear suddenly befell me as I realized I was alone at the mall.

I anxiously inquired of the apparition whether all of the people of

Huntington Beach were dead. He smiled and assured me they were alive and

shopping in Westminster and Costa Mesa.

Alone and desperate I asked the spirit if the future course of things

were unalterable. His answer scared the dickens out of me, as he reminded

me to look at the Mally of the past and present, and told me that left

unchanged, we would be haunted by that same Mally in the future.

* RON DAVIS is a private attorney who lives in Huntington Beach. He

can be reached by e-mail at o7 RDD@socal.rr.com.f7