#obf

“I’m sorry, man,” Colin Perkins had said. Andrew’s eyes glided to the glass conference table, landing on the silver tray holding a molehill of bagels. He imagined they must be stale by now, having been left there uncovered in the icy office air.

Someone had planted the pointed end of a white plastic knife in an open container of chive-and-jalapeño cream cheese. It brought to mind the moon landing; all that was missing was a tiny American flag. A laugh trudged up his throat, but he disguised it as a cough.

“I told you,” Colin continued, raking his hands over his manicured Afro, “that the last to hire would be the first to go.”

A month earlier, seventeen women and two men had accused the CEO of the company of sexual misconduct. That news had plummeted the stock. The layoffs followed. Andrew had witnessed dozens of employees being escorted by security from the building like criminals. Now it was his turn.

Andrew nodded, placed a comforting hand on Daniel’s shoulder, and squeezed. The crisp cotton of Daniel’s shirt felt cool beneath his palm. “It’s okay, man, I understand. Don’t sweat it.”

He’d spent that first week revamping his résumé, calling friends and old colleagues, people who might know of a job opportunity at their own place of employment or elsewhere. He’d never had a LinkedIn account, but took the time to set one up. To conserve the little bit of savings he had, Andrew dropped his gym membership and went back to drinking tap water instead of the bottled Evian he loved. He gave up Starbucks coffee and the expensive cabernet sauvignon he purchased by the case.

By week three, he was spending his days on the couch, dressed in boxer shorts and sweat socks. He’d stopped opening the blinds and only went outside to empty the garbage. He whiled away the hours playing video games, and watching Netflix and Pornhub. Oftentimes, he went days without brushing his teeth.

When his mother called to check on him, Andrew lied, claiming he had several interviews lined up. When his father took the phone into another room to ask if he needed money, Andrew assured him that he was fine on the financial front, even though he wasn’t. He’d made up his mind to sell his Shelby Mustang before he took a dime from his parents. That was a big decision because he loved that car more than he’d ever loved any woman.

The day he opened the e-mail, the panic had just started to set in. He could feel it creeping along the back of his neck, like the soft scuttle of caterpillar legs.

From: OBF, INC.

To: Andrew Jamison

Dear Mr. Jamison,

We found your resume to be very interesting and believe that you would be the perfect addition to our dynamic team of Client Liaisons.

PAID TRAINING!

Affordable benefits for you, your spouse, and/or children after 90 days!

Opportunities to advance within!

Hourly, overtime, and tremendous bonus opportunities!

If you love helping others, then you will love working for OBF, INC.

OBF, INC. wants to talk to you now! To set up an interview TEXT OBF51893.

Liaison was just a fancy French word for customer service agent. Well, that was his skill set. Andrew was an expert at assisting people.

He texted the number and received an instant response that directed him to call a telephone number and enter his personal code: 1032.

An automated voice offered him two available interview dates. He was instructed to press 1 for the first date and 2 for the second. The mechanical voice told him that he would receive a call advising him where the interview would take place.

It all seemed very clandestine. Andrew was cynical, but his desperation outweighed his skepticism.

A day later, he received a call from a woman with a Southern drawl . . . Georgia, Alabama, Texas? He couldn’t quite pinpoint where she hailed from, but listening to her speak conjured visions of sweet tea and fireflies. She asked for his full government name and the code he’d received via text message. There was a pause, two clicks, and then the syrupy voice asked if he had a pen available. He did. After she’d rattled off the address, she wished him good luck. There were a few more clicks and then the line went dead.

He walked into the lobby of the forty-story office building and was struck by the contemporary opulence of the space. Marble floors, potted palms that towered eight feet into the air, white leather sofas, and a slick-looking Louboutin-red reception desk.

Andrew presented his license to the security guard and was given a name tag, which he clipped to the lapel of his ash-gray jacket. He was told to go to the eighteenth floor.

While waiting for the elevator, he perused the list of companies listed on a plaque mounted to the wall. OBF, Inc. was nowhere to be found.

He smirked, shrugged his shoulders, and stepped into the elevator. On the eighteenth floor, smack outside of the elevator door, was a sheet of lined legal paper taped haphazardly to the wall. Scrawled on its face in black marker was: This Way to OBF, INC. Below that was an arrow.

He started down the hall. A man the color of cedar and as tall as an NBA player speed-walked past him, mumbling to himself. Andrew thought he looked dazed, as if he’d just received news that a loved one had passed away.

“Good morning,” Andrew murmured.

The man turned eyes as wide as saucers on Andrew. He opened his mouth and muttered something that Andrew wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. The elevator doors slid open just as Andrew leaned in and asked, “Uhm, sorry, brother, but did you say run?”

The man leaped into the elevator, pressed his spine against the back wall, and fixed his eyes on the glass numbers above the closing doors.

Andrew stood blinking at his reflection in the chrome elevator doors. After a moment, he shrugged and continued down the hallway where he came upon a second handwritten sign directing him to turn left at the women’s bathroom. He rounded a corner and found himself staring at eleven men seated in folding chairs. They all looked up from their iPhones and Androids. Andrew nodded and headed toward the pretty blonde seated behind a metal desk.

“Good morning,” she smiled. “Name?”

“Andrew Jamison.”

“Okay, Mr. Jamison, please take a seat. Mrs. Americus will be with you shortly.”

He scrutinized his fellow applicants. They were all black men save for the one white guy with a man-bun who was called in as soon as Andrew sat down. Man-bun wasn’t in there long. In less than five minutes, cheeks flushed and cursing under his breath, he stormed across the reception area and out of sight.

Andrew clenched his jaw and made eye contact with another man across the room from him. He imagined the unease in the man’s eyes mirrored his own uncertainty.

“Andrew Jamison, Mrs. Americus will see you now. Just through that door.”

The door opened to a large office filled with cubicles and desks, manned by women tapping away on typewriters or murmuring into the handsets of—

Andrew slowed his gait.

Are those rotary telephones and, wait, Royal typewriters?

The Order of Bradán Feasa (OBF)

Unit One of an RDNA Druid training program is finally in its first draft! I started writing this in 2020, and wrote a majority of it (114 pages) that year because I wanted to have created something before the feared perception of probably contracting Covid and dying therefrom. Then once I was vaccinated, I got complacent and set the draft aside, coming back to it perhaps once a month, re-reading and revising, not really adding any new content.

In an attempt to push forward with my list of proposed topics, I started to realize I was not qualified to create content for many of them, and that I needed to do a lot more reading and learning for my own sake before continuing. Thus 2021, 2022, and much of 2023 were dedicated to reading my stack of purchased but unread books, annotating, highlighting, and cross-referencing for veracity.

I still have a lot of reading and learning ahead of me, but much of that will align with Unit Three, which hasn't been started yet. Unit Two has actually been in a draft form since 2017, and there will be an exam to go with it. This will probably be the first modern Druid training program with an exam, and it will require a 90% score or higher to pass.

What is the OBF?

The Order of Bradán Feasa is a non-clerical side order made for the Reformed Druids of North America. The name means the "Salmon of Knowledge" in Irish Gaelic, and is a reference to the myth of Finn McCool gaining all the world's knowledge when he burns himself while cooking the salmon. Any person who completes Units One and Two will be inducted to OBF and given a digital certificate indicating completion of said training program. Units One and Two would be considered sufficient training for in-person candidates to be invited to Second Order initiation in the RDNA. The optional Unit Three is the RDNA Clergy Prep Course and Grove Governance Guide (GGG), and would be considered prerequisite to ordination to the Third Order: the RDNA priesthood, in addition to existing customary requirements such as the supervised All-Night Vigil.

Completing the First Draft

While some people write novels during November for N.A.N.O.M.I.R.O. or whatever, I was suddenly inspired to get Unit One done. Over the month of November I wrote 55 new pages and revised existing content again. No, that's no novel, but writing something of (hopefully) academic quality with APA citations is a bit more meticulous, especially with this being my first "college level" type of project in about 16 years.

Members of Oakdale Grove are in the process of reviewing and annotating the first draft already. I find it easier to spot needed revisions or typos when something is in print, plus I love writing directly on drafts with an ink pen because I'm an older millennial (roars in dinosaur, lol). And I get to review and mark it up for editing with a bit of a Dark Academia aesthetic. I'm a bit shocked that Unit 1 is 169 pages, and likely to grow. We've already identified some sections that don't exist yet that need to be here. Unit 2 is much smaller. I expect Unit 3 to be smaller, as well.

The goal is for Unit 1 to go live before Beltane 2024, for Unit 2 to go live by the Autumnal Equinox of 2024, and for Unit 3 to go live by the end of 2024. That last one has the greatest uncertainty though, because I still have two important books to read, and possibly more that I haven't found yet.

Remind yourself today to hold your head high, stick your chest out, and keep your heart strong. 🦅💙

MEET THE OTHER BOEDELL FAMILY

This is the family of Kane Boedell, the oldest brother of Saffie Boedell, and her sister Shay, as they were triplets. Saffie was the third Heir from the Boedell Legacy. She was the mother of the infamous Cruz Boedell.

Kane, whose powers were stronger than Saffie, refused to use witchcraft at all and disowned his gift, saying it was evil.  And he also saw the pain and the loss it caused in his family and he wanted no part of it.

Kane did “die” as did his wife Brylee during the evil reign of Gunther Goth, however he was brought back by his sisters, but his wife, not having magical powers, was unable to be brought back. Which meant that Kane raised his beautiful daughter Erin on his own.

He left Willow Creek, and the “Boedell Curse” and moved to Brindleton Bay to shelter his daughter the best that he could.

part 2.

adult content below (kids, you've been warned so back off now o this artist will hate you)