Last week the universe was almost destroyed in Elizabeth, New Jersey, at the convergence of an errant black hole and a time warp the black hole had caused. The kids playing a pickup basketball game on the courts across the street from Turnpike Liquors and Tom Morelli, master mechanic, may have been the only ones who noticed it.

It was a little past 5:30 in the evening. There were 6 teenagers playing a 3 on 3 half court game while 3 others sat on a bench waiting to take on the winners. Tom Morelli decided to stop off at Turnpike Liquors on his way home to pick up a cold six pack. He pulled his Chevy truck into an open space in the middle of the block next to the basketball courts, across the street from the liquor store. He emerged from the truck, and, oblivious to the game, looked both ways up and down the street, then crossed and headed towards the store as Jamal, one of the basketball players, drained a shot from the top of the key.

“Lucky shot, punk,” said Juan.

“Skill, punk, not luck.” He called for the ball and drained another one.

As Tom entered the store, at the far edge of the universe, something very strange was occurring. After millions upon millions of earth years of pulling in the flotsam, jetsam, and general debris of the universe, a black hole had built up so much pressure that it began to suck in itself, and in a physics defying feat, broke loose and hurled itself across the universe. Racing through space and time, it built up tension as it searched for a firm place to put down. The entire universe, every star, planet, and galaxy slowly began to tilt, ever so slightly, towards the runaway black hole, poised to be sucked in should it find a resting place. So what had begun with the Big Bang was about to end with the Big Suck. And it was on a path that would put it down in Elizabeth, New Jersey, in the street in front of Turnpike Liquors.

Since there were no other customers, and since Tom was a regular there, as soon as he entered Frank the owner began to ring him up. Tom picked out a cold six pack from the back of the case and crossed to the counter. He handed Frank a ten.

“So, how’s it going, Tom?”

“Not too bad, Frank. And you?”

“Can’t complain. Nice truck.”

“Thanks. Got a good deal on it.”

“Here you go,” said Frank, as he handed over the change from the ten.

“Thanks, see you next time.”

Tom counted his change, then left the store, six pack under his arm.

Across the street, Jamal sunk another one.

“That’s five,” he gloated. “Shall I continue?” he asked rhetorically and dribbled two steps further back.

Now the approaching black hole, as it entered the earth’s solar system, unleashed a torrent of bizarre time warps. Fortunately, most of them went unnoticed. For instance, no one saw Washington crossing the Nile or Hector and Achilles fighting behind a K-Mart in Wisconsin. But the one that materialized in Elizabeth, New Jersey, was.

Tom looked to the left as he stepped off the curb, saw nothing coming, then looked right as he strode out into the street. At the intersection of the cross street was a large cloud of dust. The wind began to pick up. He stopped and stared at the cloud. Behind it could be heard shouting and the beating of hooves. And emerging from the cloud was the Charge of the Light Brigade, with Lord Cardigan and Captain Nolan in the lead, sabers raised over their heads.

Now Tom recognized this immediately. For although he had hated most of English in high school, the only piece of literature he ever enjoyed was Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” For some reason it had struck a cord in him. It was the only essay he ever received an A on, and the only two books he read in high school were about the charge. And here it was, coming right at him in the street outside Turnpike Liquors in Elizabeth, New Jersey. He jumped backwards and the six pack fell from under his arm.

On the basketball court, Jamal squared up, raised the ball over his head, and launched a beautiful rainbow arc towards the basket. As the ball reached its apex, it slowed, and then hung in the air. At that moment the noise of the charge caught their attention.

“What the…???” said Juan.

“Charge of the Light Brigade, man,” said Jamal. “Don’t you know nothin’?”

Tom bent down and picked up the six pack, pulled out a can with his right hand, then slid the remaining 5 cans under his left arm. They were cold against his body, but he hardly noticed, as the end of the Charge of the Light Brigade passed. The black hole was in the earth’s atmosphere now, zeroing in on Tom. Transferring the lone can to his left hand, with the greasy, calloused fingers of a master mechanic’s right hand, he pulled the tab. But since he had dropped the six pack just a few seconds before, the tab popped and released its pressure in a spray of beer. And in that second, that millesecond, that miniscule slice of time, Tom Morelli saved the universe.

For as the CO2 spewed out of the shaken can it collided with the incoming black hole about 4 feet off the ground. This sudden, unexpected resistance caught the black hole by surprise and destabilized it for just a nanosecond, but that was enough. With a speed and sound beyond human comprehension, the black hole snapped back across the space and time to its starting point. The stars, planets, and galaxies felt the tension relax, then dissipate entirely, as all returned to normal. The universe had been saved.

Jamal’s last shot began its downward arc and swished through the net once again.

“That’s game, who’s next?”

Tom took a sip of beer, then crossed the street and grabbed the door handle of his truck. It was then that he noticed the long scratch along the length of the door, parallel to the ground.

“Hard to explain that to the insurance,” he thought. He got in his truck and drove away.

Copyright © 2006 Kevin Brady