Yank Martin's Testimony

This is the way it happened that night. I was tooling and I was slicing. I was stock still. 2 nomads popped across the hill. My radio said go, boy, and my company said the same thing. Into that bag of lunch stepped yours truly. In the dark, I could see only three beans, each red and yellow offset by a green. There was more time than I knew how to use I could feel it nourishing the bones I might later throw into action. Quite possibly an atomic storm riddled every glimmering window. A familiar fear gripped my comb and red wigs flew from my skull. Sense of urgency had put me out into that silver space half destiny half desire and now not one thing there did I know to do. My rooms stood.