Copyright 1997(c)

                     BALLS TO THE GRINDSTONE
                     A Ruby D. Begonia Pearl
                  Keep your nose on the ball...

     Ruby sat, surrounded by card signs displaying various slogans.
"We've got the balls, America... let's use them," said one. Mixed
in with the signs were dozens of round, plastic, baseball-sized,
blue globes. 
     "What now?" asked Del.
     "Marketing," said Ruby. "I got it, mama."
     "Again?"
     "More like finally... ultimately... and yes, profitably," Ruby
chortled, grinning broadly.
     "Blue balls?" asked Del.
     "That's it," said Ruby. "I don't know why I didn't see it
right away. All this time, I've been just watching with half a mind
like everybody else, and it was right there under my nose," she
said. "I mean--what does everybody want, Freeman?" Ruby asked.
     "Toilet tissue perfectly manufactured between strong, and soft
enough? A blackout, once and for all of that achey-wheezy-sore-
throat-cough-cold-and-stuffy-nose-fever-so-you=can-rest-medicine
commercial? Hot sauce that is?" Del asked.
     "No, foo!" said Ruby. "People want answers, that's what.
People want to know. And this," she said, gazing reverently
downward, "knows." 
     "And what are you going to do with this knowledge?" asked Del.
     "Share it," said a surprised to be asked Ruby, "for a price,
of course."
     "You expect people to pay you?"
     "But euf coss," said Ruby. "I discovred it, as it were."
     "You did not. That was around long before you noticed," said
Del.
     "But people didn't know what it was. They wasn't using it for
what I'm using it is. I found a different purpose and you said it's
like a new invention if you find a new use, right? I mean, just
cause somebody might have this patented as a doorstop don't mean
they can claim all the rights to it as a cure for cancer, ain't
that so?" Ruby asked.
     "I only said you couldn't sell somebody's elses invention as
your own. I don't know what it takes to be legit, Ruby. Do you?"
Del asked.
     "Well what do you think is the chances this," asked Ruby,
holding aloft her ball, "has been patented as a cure-all, end-all,
be-all?--omniscient, as it were."
     "Slim," said Del, "but about the lega--"/
     "And none," said Ruby. "I checked."
     "So you're selling it like what? A Crazy Eight Ball? If I turn
this over, does it say 'yes' or 'no'?"
     "Heck no. You don't need that. This is metaphysically all-
knowing and all-powerful," said Ruby. "You want it to be 'yes',
it's yes. None of that shilly-shallying around, turning stuff
upside down and back, no sir. See, that's what's so great about
it... it knows."
     "Ruby, this is a plastic ball with a stopper," said Del.
     "Yeah," Ruby breathed. "Ain't it marvelous?"
     "It is a plastic sphere," Del insisted. "It is not going to
reverse the effcts of aging, fill the holes in the ozone layer or
put an intelligent sitcom on a major network," Del argued. "It will
not assure a guilty verdict, if there is such a thing, for O.J. or
Newt. It's a plastic blue ball."
     "And therein lies the mystery," said Ruby.
     "WHAT MYSTERY?" Del shrieked.
     "How do it know?" she asked. "Feel this," she said, handing
Del a warm, fluffy towel. "Rub it against your cheek," Ruby urged.
     "Soft and warm, like the womb," said Del. "I don't think
you're going to persuade anybody that this is magic, though, and
even if you did, how would you ever supply the demand? If the
public thought this had all the answers, can you imagine anybody
who wouldn't want to buy one?" Del asked.
     "Nope," said Ruby. "Don'cha worry, though, about the supply.
I know where I can get them by the truckload and for cheap."
     "Where?"
     "Downy, of course," said Ruby.