tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81665328055939628852024-02-18T21:48:17.325-06:00A Martini and a Pen(Fiction from Tom Janikowski)martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.comBlogger376125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-21170799574177888332017-04-11T07:29:00.001-05:002017-04-11T07:30:40.668-05:00Alive!<p dir="ltr">Yes!  Alive! Not dead! To the European trollers looking for a domain to steal, this is not it! Go away!</p>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-68789807042585127432016-08-15T00:20:00.001-05:002016-08-15T00:21:57.217-05:00FIBERGLASS CLOWN HEAD SYMPHONY! Now Available!That's right...you can now get my new novel, Fiberglass Clown Head Symphony, either as a trade paperback or as an ebook! What a country!<br />
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/martinipen" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<br />
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<a href="http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/martinipen" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMcbQ4OekNlU4ZC7dkSn9_DmvJYEWc7GrL77CWeAFbyjvZ46pBjSBSWHPOLf4GkESiszuMObuM6nqvRrimDQdEZvDlICDoUXnBIaEkfu9zIrVbtqV8FcJHf5vW6hi0279I8czMxV0Nh_yc/s320/Giant+Clown+Head.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/martinipen" target="_blank">Click on the clown head to go to my marketplace page on lulu.com</a></div>
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/tom-janikowski/fiberglass-clown-head-symphony/paperback/product-22811554.html" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/tom-janikowski/fiberglass-clown-head-symphony/paperback/product-22811554.html" target="_blank">Click here to buy the paperback.</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/tom-janikowski/fiberglass-clown-head-symphony/ebook/product-22826070.html" target="_blank">Click here to buy the ebook.</a></div>
<br />
You should go and do this immediately. Then it is time for coffee and reading. martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-12762314802110134392016-02-29T09:37:00.002-06:002016-02-29T09:55:58.083-06:00Michael Nitrous Eats a Fortune Cookie<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> (This is a little teaser from the first chapter of my "soon-to-be-<b>self</b>-published-because-I-don't-make-enough-money-for-certain-publishers" book, <b><u>Fiberglass Clown Head Symphony</u></b>. Look for it at a fine bookseller near you. Actually, don't look for it at any booksellers, except possibly and hopefully at <a href="http://www.trailsendbookstore.com/" target="_blank"><b>Trail's End Books</b></a> of Winthrop, Washington, as they are about the only store in all creation wise enough to stock decent literature. Hey, honestly, I'm down and cool with the whole capitalism thing, and I know publishing is about making money - who doesn't love a little extra fifty in the pocket? Perhaps the manuscript got turned down because it is lousy, or maybe it really <b>was</b> about sales of the previous book. "Hit me, but don't shit me," as my dear, late father used to say. Okay, perhaps I am going a bit overboard here, but whatever the case, please enjoy this little nugget...)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Michael
picked up the package and turned it over in his
hand. The cookies appeared perfectly matched, golden and apparently
crisp – just what you want out of a fortune cookie. He gently tore
open the package and removed one of the cookies. As he had been
doing for years, he placed the cookie in the palm of his left hand
and<span style="font-family: inherit;"> slowly</span> closed his fingers around it, applying pressure until he
heard the crisp shell give way. A satisfying crack, and Michael
opened his hand again to reveal a perfectly crushed cookie, its
little fortune slip lying amidst the shards.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
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</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Michael
retrieved the little slip and turned it over. “A wise man will make
more opportunities than he finds. Lucky numbers 2, 5, 11.” He
placed the fortune on the table and placed the cookie shards in his
mouth one by one. They had a nice sweet flavor, somewhat reminiscent
of almonds and perhaps a touch of orange or some other citrus flavor.
He had been right in guessing the cookie to be crisp, for if it was
nothing else, it was crisp. This seemed to be damning the cookie
with faint praise, however. </span></span>
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</span></span>
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</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Damning with faint praise." That
was a saying that Michael's mother used to trundle out quite a bit
when she had still been healthy. Before the debilitating
plaque deposits begin forming in her brain, she was quite the quick
wit and original thinker. <span style="font-family: inherit;">Even s</span>till, she would from time to time use the
odd hackneyed or worn phrase, the over-used idiom. She would say
things like “up the creek without a paddle,” “barking up the
wrong tree,” “damning with faint praise,” and “pressing the
shit button when you really need shinola.” Actually, this last
phrase was one that no one but her ever seemed to use, but she would
use it so often that you came to believe that it was a common saying.
Michael would be with his parents at a party, a wedding reception, a
formal dinner, or anything, and conversation would somehow wind its
way to where his mother could drop this doozie. “Holy Mother of
Pete,” his mother would say, “you were sure pressing the shit
button when you really needed shinola.” People within earshot
would sit up and take notice. His father would drop his head and
blush, and mother would chuckle.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Shinola</i>
was a brand of wax shoe polish that presumably could be mistaken for
human feces. By the time that Michael was an adult, people no longer
wore leather shoes requiring any sort of upkeep such as polishing.
Shoes were made entirely of plastics, nylons, and a synthetic
meerschaum substitute, and when they became unsightly the owner
simply rejuvenated them with an intravenous infusion of a product
known as “helium sponge carbide”. This did nothing for the
appearance of the shoes, but rendered the owner less vain.
Ironically, Michael's father was a chemist who worked on the team
that discovered “helium sponge carbide,” although they never saw
the lowering of shoe-owner vanity as an application for their
discovery. They were just searching for another synthetic meerschaum
substitute.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
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</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
world is a crazy place.</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-71168040374492558832015-11-09T10:05:00.002-06:002015-11-09T10:08:37.660-06:00Casey's First Cigarette<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>(A bit of chapter 6 from my novel-in-progress, <u><b>Casey and the Paper</b></u>) </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9sAHTxMReRxxfzI-RS9mzoMl74Y30JOjstZdMUwocUGyCnjH7kC0_9fZGM5rFfXzZaK-Xx9FHpjgW1EFvaCqcRJ_wnUmPfvGwLcead1wvAufX-NWS7w0L7Uiv5bQ9dRw1TXQKrCPcQU7/s1600/seattle1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9sAHTxMReRxxfzI-RS9mzoMl74Y30JOjstZdMUwocUGyCnjH7kC0_9fZGM5rFfXzZaK-Xx9FHpjgW1EFvaCqcRJ_wnUmPfvGwLcead1wvAufX-NWS7w0L7Uiv5bQ9dRw1TXQKrCPcQU7/s320/seattle1.png" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We stood there against the
stone wall, smoking and looking at the Puget Sound. It was nice. I
was enjoying myself. If this was the afterlife, I thought, it might
not be so bad. My head got to swimming a little bit, so I slowed
down and took it easy on the smoky treat.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
“My dad used to bring me
here,” Hannah said after a minute or so. “We would always do the
same thing. We'd go and get a chicken hom bow from that place over
there across the street, and then we'd come right here. He'd set me
up on the wall and I'd eat my hom bow while he smoked a cigarette and
told me stories about his time in the Navy. He was born in the
Midwest and had joined the Navy right out of high school, and somehow
that brought him out here to Seattle. After he was done in the
service, he stayed here and married my mom. Then I came along.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
“Your mom didn't care for
chicken hom bow?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
“I don't know. She was gone.
She died giving birth to me. I never knew her. My dad raised me on
his own.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
“So do you ever catch up with
her?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
“What?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
“Do you ever get the chance
to catch up with your mom nowadays?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hannah looked at me – looking
confused and a little annoyed. “No, of course not,” she said,
and turned her gaze back to the water.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I felt really bad, and suddenly
it made sense. Her mom was not in the same afterlife as we were, and
that probably wasn't good. It made me wonder how one goes about
figuring out who is here and who isn't. Perhaps it was a process of
elimination – you would go to a gathering of old friends in a
common place to see everybody, and you would all be happy and having
a good time, and then suddenly someone would say “hey, where's
Eddie?” You would all look around and someone else would ask “you
mean dirty old Eddie who used to give the finger to nuns outside the
hospital and steal milk money from orphans?” And suddenly that
knowing look would cross every face, and you all would think to
yourselves “aha...I bet I know where that dirty old Eddie is...”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was like a Russian Orthodox
monk friend of mine said to me once, “the first surprise we will
have in heaven is finding out who is there. The second surprise we
will have is finding out who is not.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>
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<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
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</span></span>
<br />
<div align="left" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The afterlife could be a real pisser, I guess, if things don't turn out as you expected.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-79903154968713261232015-10-26T10:00:00.003-05:002015-10-26T10:00:43.105-05:00Hear the Drumming, Again.<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you remember the night that the
church bells rang, you likely remember a simpler time. You likely
remember an age of lies and tension; of disco and eight-track tapes.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you remember that time as a child,
you might remember the smell of those red Swedish fish – slightly
greasy to the touch when fresh, slightly hard when old and dry.
Their smell was the smell of something like cherry and yet more like
paint if you thought about it. You might remember the songs of
television and a world where grouches lived in garbage cans and
monsters with ping pong balls for eyes ate cookies and didn't scare
anyone.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you remember the night the church
bells rang and you remember that time as a child, you might remember
a world where old men and women were from another century and they
had raised their families through something we couldn't understand,
something called a 'depression' – something that caused them to eat
things you might not normally eat and wear things you might not
normally wear. Our moms made us meatloaf and TV dinners and dressed
us in matching clothes with animals on them that taught us how to
coordinate our colors. Not so for the old men and women. Their
children had no TVs. No TV dinners. No zebras and no monkeys.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the night the church bells rang a
very small boy in a Midwestern suburb got up from his bed and
wandered to the front door to wonder at the racket. He pressed his
nose against the screen and smelled the dust and the fly-dirt and
wondered at the racket. His older brother walked up behind him and
picked him up in his arms. He unhooked the door and they stepped out
into the cool night air on a fine summer evening. He put his little
brother on his shoulders and they carved small circles together on
the front lawn.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Why are the bells ringing?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“It means the killing's gonna' stop.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A few more small, slow circles on the
lawn and he took his little brother inside and returned him to his
bed and tucked him in. Sleep came easily after that for both. When
the killing is going to stop, you sleep a lot easier.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you remember the night that the
church bells rang, you might likely remember having to grow up
eventually and not knowing that you had done so. All sorts of things
came along - the mortgages and graduate school and the deaths of
parents who might have been the children who ate the things you might
not normally eat and who wore the things you might not normally wear.
These things all came along and you might have lived through them or
you might have ignored them or you might have missed them due to a
sudden death or a slow death or just the right amount of the proper
chemicals that would have transformed your thinking-organ known as
the “brain” into a mass of silly putty.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the night that the church bells rang
a very small boy in a Midwestern suburb fell back asleep and dreamed
a dream so vivid. He was on his older brother's shoulders and they
were carving small, slow circles together on the front lawn. He bent
his head forward and smelled his brother's hair – it was always
clean, it seemed – clean and fresh and smelling like the stuff that
big people put in their hair. He put his lips on his brother's head,
and then rested his cheek there, feeling as safe and as secure as he
had ever felt. His big brother was never going to have to go away to
a war and kill anyone or have anyone try to kill him. He would never
have to go away to the place called Viet<span style="font-family: inherit;">n</span>am that they showed on TV.
And if they had ever tried to take him, like when he was away at
college, he would have told his brother to come home right here and
he would hide him in his room – under his bed or in his closet and
President Nixon never would have found him there. And he would have
brought meatloaf and TV dinners to him and hidden him there as long
as he needed to to, but that wasn't anything to worry about now, now
that the church bells were ringing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A whole generation dreamed and a whole
generation slept easily until it realized that there was no reason to
sleep easily anymore. And a whole generation got out of bed and got
dressed and took its tranquilizers and its prescription pain killers
in massive quantities, washed down with light beers and hard lemonade
and energy drinks and red wine and vodka. It took its medicine like a good
patient and sometimes even got up in the middle of the night and
pressed its collective nose against the screen and smelled the dust
and the fly-dirt.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And it waited for the church bells to
ring.</span></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-35935629183950024672015-08-23T23:15:00.006-05:002015-08-23T23:15:58.583-05:00THE CRAWFORD COUTNY SKETCHBOOK Released!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRhBmZkoOOnELv86mJ8_uleKaCpAfUzhltHfUKrGMn91jjf7uhlpasYUCz8_F_6pRY-hRmkFAjBm3R_qzHS_B2VdYRtMQKbPW7FJXHlvNssFvc5_INeeNxFeBg84PkqeYYIKeTc5NHUa5/s1600/new+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRhBmZkoOOnELv86mJ8_uleKaCpAfUzhltHfUKrGMn91jjf7uhlpasYUCz8_F_6pRY-hRmkFAjBm3R_qzHS_B2VdYRtMQKbPW7FJXHlvNssFvc5_INeeNxFeBg84PkqeYYIKeTc5NHUa5/s320/new+cover.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> ORDER YOUR COPY OF </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">THE CRAWFORD COUNTY SKETCHBOOK</span></u></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://redhen.org/book/?uuid=B4C6BCAE-B13E-686B-7B59-E02C2B3A0A28" target="_blank">Click here to order</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">or </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Call 800-621-2736</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYZMBS7TsJZ3KM6x2kNh5NgA-R3NRlSZtbKGaqQ5j1rtaOrc8iIolCLPbrQNutYeqxO3RAez5OEZh93wGGCG_gGFcLWweEUa-hoLDN5TmMQkyd5dnKOd8yzu9jVJE8LBIClUgCRDVK0py/s1600/EW1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYZMBS7TsJZ3KM6x2kNh5NgA-R3NRlSZtbKGaqQ5j1rtaOrc8iIolCLPbrQNutYeqxO3RAez5OEZh93wGGCG_gGFcLWweEUa-hoLDN5TmMQkyd5dnKOd8yzu9jVJE8LBIClUgCRDVK0py/s320/EW1.png" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">THE CRAWFORD COUNTY SKETCHBOOK</span></u></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">#7 </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY'S</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">"Must List"</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">21 August 2015!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">At the news stand now!</span></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-140582792195203272015-07-20T09:23:00.001-05:002015-07-20T11:55:40.909-05:00Pantheon<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlFhRzt-1nZ57Z8XFs8tCIjdLGrFZBmYx4iqACpY90c09TLRuRg2Wythyo0XRyIihPXO6smUjfDDiWIgYm-8HUwLmVz9FtjDkWTCSRBTuhta2F3QLqGP60ecVkV2B_Rha56jXSRAWmPRY/s1600/IMG_20150720_091747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlFhRzt-1nZ57Z8XFs8tCIjdLGrFZBmYx4iqACpY90c09TLRuRg2Wythyo0XRyIihPXO6smUjfDDiWIgYm-8HUwLmVz9FtjDkWTCSRBTuhta2F3QLqGP60ecVkV2B_Rha56jXSRAWmPRY/s200/IMG_20150720_091747.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
stooped down to look at the tiny little spoon-made ringer that Johnny
was offering to me, at first thinking that it was not worth my time.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Check
out da' lil' spoon-made ringy-dingy thing!” he had called out as he
approached, walking down Kumquat Lane (a street you might remember
from another tale about a most fortunate geometry teacher named Mr.
Zoops. <b><i> This</i></b> tale, however, has nothing to do with <b><i>that</i></b> tale – or
with Mr. Zoops. Or with geometry, for that matter).</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Johnny
was always offering me the strangest items, and he was always having
songs written about him. That bothered him to no end, but he put up
with it, just to humor the songwriters.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Check
out da' lil' spoon-made ringy-dingy thing!” he called again,
crossing Peach-Compote Avenue (the Street Department of Weaverton was
a fun-loving bunch). He failed to look both ways, and a
truss-delivery van (there are lots of those in this neighborhood) came
trundling through the intersection and knocked him to the ground. He
held fast to the spoon-made ringer.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">High
up in the outer reaches of the atmosphere, a glimmering silver jet
tore through the ether, leaving no mark along its path, yet for just
a moment, both Johnny and I saw the sun catch its silvery skin. It
seemed to wink at us like a firefly visible in broad daylight.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I
think the winking goddess Juno is pleased with my lil' spoon-made
ringy-dingy thing,” Johnny said with what might prove to be one of
his last breaths (depending on the speed with which the space-time
continuum folds around us while I write), as he held the spoon-made
ringer aloft.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
looked over my shoulder at the empty patch in the sky, now devoid of
the glimmering silver jet, and then I stooped down to look at the
tiny little spoon-made ringer that Johnny was offering to me, at
first thinking that it was not worth my time.</span></span></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-10880808968251764052015-06-29T08:59:00.001-05:002015-06-29T09:01:29.352-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/tom-janikowski/crawford-county-sketchbook/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYa2BAvCo5zuA5G53VG6CB-ehmBZWg6oiqC7x24oQv3Qgnu5zFRzD17lMAc3F81g5kebP0i7BTx2uCQW8OZ2mzT1CrGXE-2qLV75Om2TnVYWuEjIJl89F-LyozTN73vHC_WGb971m5aF7/s200/CrawfordCountyCVR_CMYK.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/tom-janikowski/crawford-county-sketchbook/" target="_blank">Here is a dandy little review of The Crawford County Sketchbook from the good folks at Kirkus Reviews. Please go and have a read...</a></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> "An elaborate morality play set among the cult of Southerners and their haunted landscapes." </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Grotesque tales of the struggle between good and evil from a dark corner of the American heartland."
</span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-87167680054755452092015-06-15T05:54:00.001-05:002015-06-15T05:54:03.808-05:00Have a Listen!<p dir="ltr"><a href="http://m.wvik.org/?utm_referrer=http%3A%2F%2Fm.facebook.com%2Fl.php%3Fu%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwvik.org%252Fpost%252Fscribble-tom-janikowski%26h%3DAAQGnveJE%26s%3D1%26enc%3DAZNo1_sRAAX82E-JD4vWvp79D0eIurOb2SxCktwIiwgeFarUhe76ARD4X7WegTYE3kmO2Djz0YSs7PKCxAOJlBHWQOhhX-Y77t3og9qrkSvPkw#mobile/12807">Mr. Janikowski is interviewed on NPR's "Scribble"</a></p>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-38857820063370058922015-06-01T10:32:00.003-05:002015-06-01T10:32:21.365-05:00Upon the Fetching Tuna Boat<div style="text-align: justify;">
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHFA7QmiRpskd48PNVbhJY3V-g28joQLTj0NBkVG0A23dhcwSpTsAZUH285Va4YS8MJpEaZv_5LwRM3kzuqz-HpwHAqkWNbM7ja3P_G0PdglJ_VGryOWBV286ptJD5TL8odbaEOpDug-b/s1600/boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHFA7QmiRpskd48PNVbhJY3V-g28joQLTj0NBkVG0A23dhcwSpTsAZUH285Va4YS8MJpEaZv_5LwRM3kzuqz-HpwHAqkWNbM7ja3P_G0PdglJ_VGryOWBV286ptJD5TL8odbaEOpDug-b/s320/boat.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
work on a fetching tuna boat. That is probably news to you, as so
few people work on fetching tuna boats these days, and when they do
they are reluctant to admit it. They usually keep the fetching tuna
boat stories to themselves.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh,
the tuna boat is fetching, all right. She's all dolled up, but not
in a gaudy way. Our captain has strung lights around the pilothouse
– little electric lights that are in the shape of anthropomorphic
jalapeño peppers, complete with tiny sombreros, mustaches, and
sunglasses. They make the pilothouse look cheery, and when we are
working on the fetching deck it makes us smile, knowing that our
captain cares enough about us to string such festive lights on the
fetching tuna boat.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">During
the day, we sail about and look for tuna. We never find any, seeing
as how we sail upon the Mississippi River, and there are no tuna for
hundreds of miles. Hell, maybe thousands of miles. I have no idea,
as I have never seen a tuna in the wild – only in a can. That
doesn't matter, though, as the captain tells us that we are one of
the best tuna boat crews he has ever had work for him. We do all the
things necessary to catch lots of tuna, and the first mate has even
learned to make the harmonious tuna call using only his right hand,
held firmly to his lips. He makes the harmonious tuna call, and we
strain our eyes looking for the approach of the elusive tuna.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">None
ever comes.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
the afternoons we take siesta. It is pleasant and restful, taking
siesta in our bunks below decks on the fetching tuna boat. Our
captain has thoughtfully provided small nap mats that we may spread
on the deck if the weather is warm and we wish to take siesta
topside. When it is cool, we go to our bunks and listen to the waves
lap at the hull of our fetching tuna boat. It lulls us to sleep with
great ease.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
the evenings, after dinner, we will often gather on the lido deck to
sing songs and play the concertinas. Each of us was issued a
concertina when we signed on to the fetching tuna boat, and the first
mate gives group concertina lessons each night, unless he is sober.
The waves lap at the hull of our fetching tuna boat, the sound of sea
chanties rolls out over the deck, and old man Bettendorf dances a
merry jig until his prosthetic leg comes loose, causing him to hop
back to his seat. We close the evenings with toasts of absinthe to
our captain, and then we retire below decks. Only the first mate
stays topside, keeping watch and drinking until he has passed out.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We
enjoy our life here upon the fetching tuna boat, but we question our
vocation. We have yet to spy a tuna, let alone catch one. Some of
the crew say that it is our technique. Some say it is that our boat
needs to be arrayed in an even more fetching manner. Others claim it
has to do with the stars and the way the constellation of the Archer
has risen in the East, bringing with it wary schools of tuna. We
labor on, enjoying our life but never achieving our goal.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Some
say that all of life is like that.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
work on a fetching tuna boat.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-50253302646026538452015-05-04T10:54:00.003-05:002015-05-04T10:57:10.516-05:00The Great Bezeldan Novel - A Bit of Chapter 16<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WR5ofopu-M8tPHao-YSw-VWLw0bWSrCnGGnGVjWQ8kL58uQWT9W1-9YWIjrbabPx5VOkQGvkaoew6abW0xLp6d3afzJ4WEsTmBTd4rKo5MdyGQiDvYmGyOCapOYpt-fttyWPxaEhr1gK/s1600/american-and-french-soldiers-smoking-and-fraternizing-in-the-trenches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WR5ofopu-M8tPHao-YSw-VWLw0bWSrCnGGnGVjWQ8kL58uQWT9W1-9YWIjrbabPx5VOkQGvkaoew6abW0xLp6d3afzJ4WEsTmBTd4rKo5MdyGQiDvYmGyOCapOYpt-fttyWPxaEhr1gK/s320/american-and-french-soldiers-smoking-and-fraternizing-in-the-trenches.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“While
we are on the topic of other planets, please allow yourself to drift
off mentally to another planet – not terribly far distant in terms
of space and time, but very distant in terms of reality. Place
yourself on a war-torn field. A field of churned-up mud, debris, and
dead bodies. See a series of trenches facing one another. See two
armies facing one another across the churned up field. See the young
men, huddled in a troglodyte world of mud and fear. See the mist and
smoke rolling across the deserted landscape. Can you feel it?” asked Blaze Raygun.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Is
this an intentionally undertaken cloquey-overdose?” asked Grogan,
opening one eye.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“It
is often times the setting for an intentionally undertaken
cloquey-overdose, but we are not using it like that right now.”</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Author's
note: the <span style="font-family: inherit;">Bezeldan word</span> “cloquey” means, literally, “a confusion”.
When extra-dimensional travelers
would find themselves depressed from having landed in a real heck
of a cloquey, they would travel through the ether of time and space
and take in a little bit of opening day on the Battle of the Somme.
It was cloquey-overdose on a grand scale, and they always felt a
little better about whatever it was that they had previously
witnessed. This whole issue is addressed in another story of mine –
<u>Yerba Mat</u><u>é</u>
– that you should
probably go and read. Right now. Please
report back to this
paragraph when you have done so. Thank you.)</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">You
might see some soldiers huddled together in groups, talking in low
voices, and lighting cigarettes in their cupped hands. You can see
the look in their eyes, and maybe you can even feel how uncomfortable
they are in their woolen uniforms. Wool, encrusted in mud and maybe
even some blood here and there. To top it off, there are bugs. Lice.
Little vermin that crawl around and bite the soldiers, just to add a
little bit of discomfort to everything else. If you look further,
there are also rats. Not as numerous as the lice, but probably more
visible. The rats are sometimes feeding on the dead, and the
soldiers know this. In fact, they know that some of the bodies of
men who had been their friends – men just like them with bodies
just like theirs – those are some of the bodies that the rats are
nibbling on. Worst of all, the soldiers know that their own bodies
might be next – they might become the next body that the rats
nibble on. It's just awful.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">Aside
from the rats and the lice, there is not a lot of wildlife painted
into this picture. No starlings. No bletcher-birds. No bluejays.
No redjays. No anykindjays. The soldiers huddle on both sides of the
trenches, all speaking their respective languages in hushed tones,
smoking cigarettes from their home countries. And one of the things
that the soldiers do on either side of the trenches – something
they do no matter what language they speak or what uniform
they wear – is bond with each other. The men sometimes have
nothing else to keep them going but each other. They become almost
closer than brothers.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">Okay.
I want you </span><span style="font-style: normal;">now
to depart this field of horror and death, and come with me to another
place.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">Gladly,”
said Grogan, wiping sweat from his brow.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">Come
with me to a Frosty-Chill </span><span style="font-style: normal;">on
a warm summer night </span><span style="font-style: normal;">in
a small town near the northern pole. Look at the teenagers gathered
around the counter, </span><span style="font-style: normal;">ordering
Frosty-Chill cones and cylinders and wheaty-milks. Look at</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
the </span><span style="font-style: normal;">hormones
coursing through their systems. Well, you can't really <b><i>see</i></b> the
hormones, but you know they are there, don't you<span style="font-family: inherit;">?</span> Don't answer that.
Look at the boy and the girl sitting at that little table off to the
side. Look at their eyes, and they way they hold each other's hand.
In another time, and in another place there were those who called
this 'puppy-love' but we mostly think of it as the affection that two
young people have for one another when their systems and their brains
are not quite developed yet, and they don't really know what they are
feeling. You can almost feel the sugary, sappy, warm, and wonderful
emotions that they have going on right now, can't you? Again, don't
answer that.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">Look
inside that young boy's heart. Can you? Of course not, but maybe you
can feel it just a little bit. If you can tell how much he never
wants this moment to end, and how in just 30 or 40 short years into
the future he will wish that he could feel that same feeling once
again, you might get a sense of what I'm talking about. Likewise
with the young girl. She might be looking back in 30 or 40 years and
thinking that there was once a perfect summer evening outside the
Frosty-Chill, and that there was a time when she felt so good and so
young and so blissfully ignorant of what was really going on.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">This
is very different from the last place we were. Nobody is dying here,
at least not actively, and there is a lot less fear, a lot less mud,
and certainly fewer rats. There might be some lice, but we won't
even bring that into the equation, if you don't mind.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Grogan
and Rosalyn shook their heads without saying a word.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-20028507780246591802015-04-27T10:09:00.002-05:002015-04-27T10:10:23.576-05:00Afterwards<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCb6kHXnpYnFANktWXVkuwUKSMGab7y2uhp6lzTmlSTprRIZITBhFVS1kJapiuNuAaTIjIaXbdRtqhC1xtVIoqpDLk2AUWqPjEREBfthUg4qpAEkZb-BR5PyZAEOA2ZHv1_IAUwxIDL68f/s1600/boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCb6kHXnpYnFANktWXVkuwUKSMGab7y2uhp6lzTmlSTprRIZITBhFVS1kJapiuNuAaTIjIaXbdRtqhC1xtVIoqpDLk2AUWqPjEREBfthUg4qpAEkZb-BR5PyZAEOA2ZHv1_IAUwxIDL68f/s1600/boat.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Maguida
raised a flag of truce and sailed into the tiny harbor of her mind.
Her boat was fragile but still seaworthy, and at any rate it appeared
as though there would be no more salvos fired at her from the coastal
guns.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Coastal
guns on the shore of the tiny harbor of one's mind can be
particularly deadly.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
winds were steady but warm, and the waters fairly calm. She looked around at
the ragged sails, torn from the previous battle, and she wondered how
they could have ever held enough wind to bring her home – home to
an occupied port, home to become a prisoner. She thought deeply and
with salty-wounded wonder at how the gimple birds had made a warning
call before the battle. She listened to them, but ignored their dire
message. We all do that from time to time.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As
her battle-ravaged boat pulled into port, she stepped into what had
become a foreign land. Enemy-held territory. A strange place. She
walked ashore and saw no trace of her captors. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No
threatening words. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No
marauding troops.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No
laurel-wreath clad victors, grinning at her with bloody smiles.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She
was alone. The worst kind of defeat there is.</span></span></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-87597061914354966892015-04-20T08:42:00.001-05:002015-04-20T08:42:56.052-05:00Multi-purpose<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasAs5phE4hxYI0i8BdIJSe8jP90dFrOnFG4JIiO1_mdhAOyVH-yNtJ9JNhn-BEj9PPSu2kmh566jT3LjA_OKVcLbhatU4AEN4t1N5vKVY7RkX1rAT8ey2iqomxvq6b5oSq1TuCY0sf8iy/s1600/smiley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasAs5phE4hxYI0i8BdIJSe8jP90dFrOnFG4JIiO1_mdhAOyVH-yNtJ9JNhn-BEj9PPSu2kmh566jT3LjA_OKVcLbhatU4AEN4t1N5vKVY7RkX1rAT8ey2iqomxvq6b5oSq1TuCY0sf8iy/s1600/smiley.jpg" height="200" width="176" /></a></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
the police arrived, there was little that could be done aside from
cleaning up the mess. One older officer directed one of the younger
officers to get a 2-liter bottle of a well-known cola soft drink and
wash the blood away.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Are
you sure we should do that?” asked the young officer. “They might
want the blood for evidence.”</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Who?
Who might want it?” asked the older officer.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With
a shrug of his shoulders the younger officer walked away in search of
the cola. The older officer crouched down next to the body and
looked into its eyes. “Its” eyes, as the officer was not sure if
it was the body of a man or a woman. There were no obvious clues.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
officer stood up, shook his head and smoothed the lap of his his
trousers, slowly, but almost as though he were brushing off crumbs.
There could have been crumbs on his trousers, in fact. He had just
eaten a very crumbly baked good on the way over. The officer was not
sure, exactly, what sort of baked good it was. There had been no
obvious clues.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A
delivery van of some sort slowed down as it drove past the crime
scene, trying to figure out what was going on. The driver turned
down his radio – for that is what people do, it seems, when they
need to concentrate on things while driving. They turn down the
radio. When your family was on a vacation and you pulled into a
strange city, would your mother pull out the map and turn down the
radio, saying “we have to concentrate” ? Perhaps she did. I
know that my mother did. In like fashion, the driver of this
delivery truck sat up, took notice, and turned down his radio. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
officer looked at the truck as it passed by and noticed the driver
staring at the crime scene. He took note of the driver turning down
the radio. The officer looked at the delivery truck and tried to
determine what sort of delivery such a truck would be making, but he
could not decide what it might be. There were no obvious clues.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
officer returned to his patrol car and opened the trunk. He withdrew
the “Crime Scene Removal Kit” that was issued to every police
patrol car in Weaverton. Taking the kit to where the body was, he
put on his tidy white apron and rubber gloves and got to work. The
body fit neatly within the several resealable plastic bowls that came
with the kit – bowls that were guaranteed to not leak, and that
would keep body parts or baked goods as fresh and flaky as the day
they were murdered or baked. “From our kitchen to yours!” was
the cheery message that was molded in bright, happy colors on the
snap-tight lid of each bowl.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
kit was very complete, the officer thought, except for the cola soft
drink that all of Weaverton's finest used to give a final cleaning to
any crime scene. Well, to any crime scene that needed cleaning, that
is. The crime scenes of Jaywalking (unless lethal) seldom needed
such a good cleaning. The cola soft drink that they used for
crime-scene clean up had a special wang-doodley enzyme in it that
immediately ate up and digested blood and small body parts that were
too small to pick up with the tongs that were included in the kit.
“Who stocked these kits, anyway?” the officer wondered aloud. He
turned the lid of the kit over several times, looking for the name of
a manufacturer. There were no obvious clues.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
officer wiped off the tongs, packed up the kit and the resealable
plastic bowls full of body parts, and placed them all neatly in the
trunk of the patrol car. He took off his tidy white apron and rubber
gloves, and placed them in a large plastic bag that the City of
Weaverton Police Department had so thoughtfully included in each
policeman's personal goody box. The personal goody box contained
very crumbly baked goods, tear gas, a smiley-face button, and a
kazoo, along with the plastic bags. Each goody box was prepared
personally by the mayor of Weaverton each morning, and contained a
hand written message of joy. The older officer's goody box this
morning had a message that read “Slap-happy to the end! Boxer dogs
and hiccups! Happy!” It was, sure enough, hand written and signed
by the mayor. The officer, after reading it, had misplaced it in the
patrol car somewhere, but was not sure where he had laid it. There
were no obvious clues.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
younger officer returned with a 2-liter bottle of the particular
well-known cola soft drink, and the two of them used it to wash away
the remaining blood and some small body parts. They flushed the
whole of it into the gutter, where it ran over several empty pistol
cartridges and down into the storm sewer. The older officer was not
sure where it went after it entered the storm sewer. There were no
obvious clues.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
two officers got into the patrol car and made their way back to the
station. In the precinct headquarters that afternoon, just before he
headed home after his shift, the older officer made his daily “record
of events” and entered it into the duty log.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Quiet
day. No activity. Ate two very crumbly baked goods. Happy!”</span></span></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-15579353396351890392015-04-10T10:56:00.003-05:002015-04-10T10:57:31.277-05:00Not Upon the Feast of Marrowsuck<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAk1uJog-8j1AyMOpTE7cB36v9okcicJQPsyylcEC4zU91qCa38piKxJIQa_9O9fd-MANTgr2TS1XiVX2Gw-p5XTpqOfPLnNB_bauccAQs0GQmoTxtJwXKmB8J0dNW_L0wn6faI47YLNMv/s1600/Beef_suet-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAk1uJog-8j1AyMOpTE7cB36v9okcicJQPsyylcEC4zU91qCa38piKxJIQa_9O9fd-MANTgr2TS1XiVX2Gw-p5XTpqOfPLnNB_bauccAQs0GQmoTxtJwXKmB8J0dNW_L0wn6faI47YLNMv/s1600/Beef_suet-01.jpg" height="135" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He
did it again.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mr.
Reemer (not his real name) held out his hand on the corner of 18<sup>th</sup>
Avenue and 31<sup>st</sup> Street, and juggled two balls of stiffened
beef tallow, daring any passers-by to pluck one of the balls from
mid-air. No one ever wants to touch stiffened beef tallow, of
course, so he found no takers. It was his next action that baffled
everyone – even the reporter from the Daily Slouch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
sun burned brightly in the skies over Weaverton that morning, and Mr.
Reemer's hand grew all the more slippery with each cycle of the balls
of stiffened beef tallow. As one last passer-by passed by (that is,
after all, what passers-by do, you know), he paused in mid-juggle,
and a ball of stiffened beef tallow stopped in mid-air. It hovered.
It wobbled. It glistened.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hear
my tale,” said Mr. Reemer to the passer-by. “Hear my tale of
tallow. A tallowy tale, yet not too tall of a tallowy tale.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
passer-by stopped and stared at the ball of stiffened beef tallow.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hear
of the genesis, as it were,” continued Mr. Reemer, smiling. “You
know where this lovely ball of stiffened beef tallow comes from,
don't you?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
passer-by shook her head, as if to say “no.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(That
is often what people mean when they shake their heads.)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Let
me show you.” With his free hand (the one that was <i><b>not</b></i>
growing all the more slippery from stiffened beef tallow) he traced a
picture in the air – a picture so divine, so graceful, and so
intricate. He then reached out and placed his index finger upon the
forehead of the passer-by. “Receive,” said Mr. Reemer.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
passer-by shook and trembled, and then grew still. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Deeper
than you might think?” she asked, at great length.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Deeper
than you might think,” said Mr. Reemer.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
passer-by reached out her hand. Mr. Reemer reached out his own hand
(the one that <i><b>had</b></i> been growing all the more slippery).
As their hands met, he turned his over, placing the ball of
stiffened beef tallow in hers. While she held it, he kept his hand
on the ball for a long while, allowing liquefied beef tallow to run
from his palm and cascade over hers.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Deeper,”
he said.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Deeper,”
she said.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
softened beef tallow ran down in tiny little rivulets, over her palm,
down her wrist, and down her arm. She felt it dripping onto her
shoes.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mr.
Reemer (not his real name, remember?) withdrew his hand, leaving the
passer-by holding the ball of stiffened beef tallow. He gently
directed her arm beneath the other ball that was still hovering and
wobbling and glistening in mid-air.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He
looked into her eyes.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She
looked into his eyes.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Receive,”
said Mr. Reemer. He made the sign of the grackle and walked away.
Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of body.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
passer-by began to juggle the balls of stiffened beef tallow. The
sun burned brightly in the skies over Weaverton, and the passer-by's
hand grew all the more slippery with each cycle. A voice from deep
within came, at long last, to her lips.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hear
my tale...”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-23984606312131292102015-03-23T09:15:00.000-05:002015-03-23T09:15:12.894-05:00The Conclusion of Chapter 8.2
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghozSJavpqt6Nmtfiyip57yqTe8JGFizhGA-IqaKqBtlecVGFV7ZG42U3VsCh3Af7HIVOFuqwX8RLf-gzUxMd-YOZXaBN-OuK47rV6tlfGk9-60Z713ITJT4iIhw7y210z8kasfRzy6XKj/s1600/jar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghozSJavpqt6Nmtfiyip57yqTe8JGFizhGA-IqaKqBtlecVGFV7ZG42U3VsCh3Af7HIVOFuqwX8RLf-gzUxMd-YOZXaBN-OuK47rV6tlfGk9-60Z713ITJT4iIhw7y210z8kasfRzy6XKj/s1600/jar.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i>(from my forthcoming novel, <u>Cinema! Cinema!</u>)</i></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Well," said Jerry Grogan, "this one guy that I know, his dad was a sailor. I don't
mean like a professional sailor all his life or anything. This guy
wanted to be a professional athlete, actually. A baseball player, in
fact. A pitcher to be exact. Do you know what baseball is?</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Sure,” said Rosalyn. “It's that earth sport that moves real
slowly. I see it from time to time on inter-dimensional planetary
television. It's the one with all of the beer ads.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah, that's it. So anyhow, he wanted to be a baseball player,
but as fate would have it, there was a war going on at the time. The
guy doesn't want to get drafted into the army, so he joins the navy.
Seems like a good idea at the time. In the long run, it sets into
motion a whole turn of events that winds up with him retiring as a
social worker rather than a baseball player, but such is life. You
know how that goes?”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Do I ever,” said Rosalyn. “I wanted to be a plumber, but I
wound up as an art teacher. Some days what I wouldn't give to fix a
leaking faucet or a toilet with a bad flapper valve.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You can do those things any time you want, baby-cakes. The next
time my toilet overflows I'll give you a call.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Thanks.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Anyhow, the guy winds up floating around the ocean, running up and
down steel ladders and scrubbing decks and saluting people and all
the things that sailors commonly do. I don't think he had a parrot
or anything. I think those are reserved for pirates, and these guys
were legitimate sailors. Some of them had tattoos, though, I'm
pretty sure of it."</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"When the war ended," Grogan continued, "this guy's ship had the task
of picking up a whole bunch of soldiers and marines who had been
involved in more 'hands-on' sorts of war-making and ferrying them back
home. This seemed like a pretty good deal, because the sailors were
a lot less concerned about people trying to kill them or sink their
ship or whatever, now that the war was done. Their thoughts had
mostly turned to getting home and getting jobs or getting laid or
getting really good and stinking drunk.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Everybody has their vices,” inserted Rosalyn.</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You can say that again, baby-cakes. So all of these sailors and
soldiers and marines are on the ship together for a few weeks, and they end up
getting to know each other a bit, and playing poker together and all
the things you do when a war is over. And this one marine strikes up
a conversation with my friend's dad, and eventually asks him if he
wants to see what he was bringing home as a souvenir from the war.
Well, this is too good for my friend's dad to pass up, seeing as how
the guys on the ship never really had the chance to do any souvenir
gathering during the war, and mostly were bringing home only tattoos
or the clap.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I bet some of them picked up tiny things, too,” said Rosalyn,
“just as a little gift for their moms or girlfriends.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Maybe. Here and there maybe a plastic snow-globe or something.
I'll give you that. But whatever the case, my friend's dad
apparently didn't want to miss seeing what a marine might be bringing
back from some battle-torn island somewhere. Maybe a cool sword or a
helmet or a flag or something. So he goes down to the hangar deck of
their ship, where all of the marines are camped out on makeshift
bunks, and the marine grabs his seabag and they go to a private
little corner behind some crates and pipes and stuff. And the marine
pulls a glass mason jar out of his seabag.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Pickles?”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That's what my friend's dad thought at first, too. Or maybe some
kind of special ethnic delicacy that he found in an enemy chow line.
But the marine lifts it up in my friend's dad's face and lets him get
a real close look at it. You know what it was?”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Of course you don't. You couldn't believe it. You couldn't
imagine it. You couldn't make this up.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What was it?” pressed Rosalyn.</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ears,” said Grogan with a horrified look. “Ears.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ears?”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ears. Enemy ears. It turns out this marine was cutting off ears
from dead bodies of the enemy soldiers that his unit killed.
Whenever they overtook a position, or captured a bunker, after
everything was quiet, this guy would go around with his knife and
slice the ears off of dead soldiers, and then put them in a jar with
vinegar or vodka or mineral spirits or something. He had it all
wrapped up in a couple of towels, and he carried it with him
everywhere. Apparently it was the second jar he had used, as
the first one broke in his backpack or seabag or something, soaking
everything with his field-expedient embalming fluid. He managed to
save the ears, though, so it was okay.</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Lovely,” said Rosalyn, looking a little nauseated.</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Well, my friend's dad was speechless, I guess, but he never forgot
the mason jar the ears were in. The marine had scratched the word
'ears' into the metal cap. Probably scratched it in with the same
knife he used for removing the ears. Who knows? You don't forget a
thing like that, though.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You would think that just seeing a bunch of ears floating around
in a jar would be enough of a reminder of what's in the jar, though,”
Rosalyn pointed out.</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah, but I guess he wanted to dedicate that jar for one use and
one use only. He probably didn't want to use the jar for making a
batch of pickled eggs after the war.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Good point. What if he got the lids switched with another jar,
though?”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I have no idea. Anyhow, years later, probably forty years after
the war, my friend's dad is on vacation in a big city on the coast,
and was at an antique store with his wife, and they're poking around,
looking at stuff, and he spots an old mason jar with a metal cap
sitting there on a shelf, and it looks familiar.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No way.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Way. He grabs it, and sure enough, there's the same word, 'ears',
scratched into the lid. The very same jar. I guess he even opened
it and took a sniff. Still kinda' smelled like vinegar or something,
but no trace of ears. “</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“He didn't...”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“He did. He bought the thing and took it home with him. He kept
it on his desk at work, and put old fortunes from fortune cookies in
it. Every time he ate at a Chinese restaurant and got a fortune
cookie, he'd keep the fortune and take it with him to put in the jar.
When he retired, the thing was over half full of old fortunes, and
he took it home with him. After he died, my friend got the jar, and
now he's doing the same thing with it. It's on his desk, and he's
trying to fill it to the top with fortune cookie fortunes before he
retires. Only one problem, though.”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What's that?”</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“He can't stand Chinese food.”</div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-13608394912570577632015-03-16T08:34:00.003-05:002015-03-16T08:45:27.511-05:00From Age to Age, it Seems<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnBNjoNM_C7Mm_gIfr8OUAklEzP7uhQeOKxWtqgjHiQfb_flSDLHA5zQZjJHtCo362iSMhrH734bm57mLkR7ruI2pMWkKMU0bQritT36aKahz5d-_RKyskVk8DAG9PzR7egG13fJUYnSq/s1600/bridge.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnBNjoNM_C7Mm_gIfr8OUAklEzP7uhQeOKxWtqgjHiQfb_flSDLHA5zQZjJHtCo362iSMhrH734bm57mLkR7ruI2pMWkKMU0bQritT36aKahz5d-_RKyskVk8DAG9PzR7egG13fJUYnSq/s1600/bridge.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnBNjoNM_C7Mm_gIfr8OUAklEzP7uhQeOKxWtqgjHiQfb_flSDLHA5zQZjJHtCo362iSMhrH734bm57mLkR7ruI2pMWkKMU0bQritT36aKahz5d-_RKyskVk8DAG9PzR7egG13fJUYnSq/s1600/bridge.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnBNjoNM_C7Mm_gIfr8OUAklEzP7uhQeOKxWtqgjHiQfb_flSDLHA5zQZjJHtCo362iSMhrH734bm57mLkR7ruI2pMWkKMU0bQritT36aKahz5d-_RKyskVk8DAG9PzR7egG13fJUYnSq/s1600/bridge.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnBNjoNM_C7Mm_gIfr8OUAklEzP7uhQeOKxWtqgjHiQfb_flSDLHA5zQZjJHtCo362iSMhrH734bm57mLkR7ruI2pMWkKMU0bQritT36aKahz5d-_RKyskVk8DAG9PzR7egG13fJUYnSq/s1600/bridge.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnBNjoNM_C7Mm_gIfr8OUAklEzP7uhQeOKxWtqgjHiQfb_flSDLHA5zQZjJHtCo362iSMhrH734bm57mLkR7ruI2pMWkKMU0bQritT36aKahz5d-_RKyskVk8DAG9PzR7egG13fJUYnSq/s1600/bridge.jpeg" height="320" width="259" /></a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>(A little bit from "Ashes and Seed Corn", another <span style="font-family: inherit;">novel underway...)</span> </i></b></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Might there be a thing called
generational memory? Perhaps that is not the right word for it, of
course. Perhaps there is a psychologist or a wise, learned man who
studies such things that has a special name for such an occurrence,
and he would tell you what it is called. It would be the sort of
situation where one set of circumstances is passed on from generation
to generation. I'm not talkin' here about the sort of thing where a
family stays in poverty or where a family is made up mostly of folks
who aren't all that bright, either. I'm talkin' about the sort of
thing where by chance or by design or by the same kind of luck or
fortune or whatever you might call it, things happen in the same
sorts of ways. And folk do the same sorts of things. And make the
same sorts of mistakes. This story I been tellin' has a lot of folk
doin' the same sort of things that other folk done, and from age to
age, it seems, some things just never change – as little as folk
change.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So to put it all together, we 'been
seein' things that look a lot like a story that someone made up and
put onto a motion picture-show, but yet, you see, a lot of stuff
ain't just made up – it's for real, and folk <span style="font-family: inherit;">get</span> hurt and st<span style="font-family: inherit;">u</span>ng
because of it. Hurtin' and stingin' ain't so bad except for when it
don't end, and it just goes on and on. Like from one generation to
the next.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just like I'm talkin' about.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So that rain goes fallin' on the just
and the unjust, and it don't really matter which of them knows which
is which. I mean, you never really know quite how just or unjust you
are, do you? Do the evil know they are evil? Do the arrogant know
themselves to be arrogant? Again, I ain't quite sure. It seems I
remember Mr. MacBurney down the road sayin' one time “you can never
say 'thank you, God, for makin' me humble.'” So when the rain falls
on the unjust, I suppose they think they deserve it every bit as much
as the just, whatever that all quite means.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I done told you some things about old
Jefferson Morgan, but he had a brother – Miles Standish Morgan –
who was not nearly as well known as he was. While Jefferson moved
his whole livin' out to the area near Pole Creek, Miles Standish
Morgan settled north of the the old Morgan homestead, in a spot just
east of the bridge over the creek just outside of Blanchers. No one
lives in Blanchers anymore, but you probably knew that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The spot where his house stood is
pretty near where that main road between Croydon and Cotton City runs
– the same road that goes through Pole Creek, makes itself a dog
leg there and by means of Rural Route 4 connects up Highway 26 in the
north with Highway 32 in the south, and is the artery for all of
Crawford County. The only folk who take Route 4 north of Haverland
would be the Switchbacks and them that live north of their place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyhow.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Miles Standish Morgan lived in a
crusty-dry little tar paper shack that was the biggest little tar
paper shack you ever did see, as he began addin' on to it the day
after he finished building it. It looked like something out of a
dream, I'm told, with rooms and walls goin' everwhichways, and
chickens and such runnin' loose all day long.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Right outside of that shack there was a
little footpath that old Morgan used to walk down – just a few
hundred yards away and to the south of his shack, and it led a man
right this little draw. Actually, it was more than just a draw –
more like a little valley or a hollow in the side of the rise heading
back to Pole Creek, and some say that's where another creek used to
run – one that emptied itself into Pole Creek along time ago. The
valley is deep enough to warrant a little bridge all its own. A
little wooden bridge that someone built a long time ago, and that
only took a man by foot across the valley. It was too small for a
horse, too small for much anything else. You could walk across it,
though.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Folk who used to live out near there
said that old Miles Standish Morgan used to get in the habit of
thinking it was his bridge – that it somehow belonged to him,
seeing as how he lived the closest to it, and that he was the one who
walked on it every day. A couple of times folks heard him hollerin'
at some kids or others who walked across it when he was nearby.
Folks said he only really got to hollerin' real loud when he had been
hittin' the bottle . Sometimes I guess we're all kind of like that,
though, aren't we?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">About the hollerin', I mean – not
necessarily about the bottle.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-1069487935638517732015-03-09T21:28:00.004-05:002015-03-09T21:28:54.199-05:00For a Very Limited Time Only...All of my paperbacks are priced at 50% off of list, and all of my e-books are FREE! You should go and stock up!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/martinipen">http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/martinipen</a><br />
<br />
A deal like this won't last for long!martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-38143539477350019072015-03-09T08:06:00.002-05:002015-03-09T08:09:59.148-05:00Lake Harriet and the Trickey-Dickey Pills - Encore Performance!<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 120%; }a:link { }</style>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> Here, for your reading pleasure, is the most-read piece on this blog, </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>published in October of 2013...</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdO-WwJbjXaRhzzyt3-7Zdhv-oQDnv45NS7m8i9LchbzE_Oq5946Gi-j3JYgn33oz53fhl7UWjoRQ2ZMqe8XGoSailPZ0uz6I1jAkquWj6uSlgoV2FnFIEJs-tkkV5-EOh0tt-fgDT3jJe/s1600/martini-63+edit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdO-WwJbjXaRhzzyt3-7Zdhv-oQDnv45NS7m8i9LchbzE_Oq5946Gi-j3JYgn33oz53fhl7UWjoRQ2ZMqe8XGoSailPZ0uz6I1jAkquWj6uSlgoV2FnFIEJs-tkkV5-EOh0tt-fgDT3jJe/s1600/martini-63+edit.JPG" /></a>David
dipped his finger into the pool of clear, cold water that was just
taking up space in his living room. The pool had been there for the
past week and a half, and David had no idea how it got there. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
pool was six feet and seven inches in length and at its widest point
about four feet and two inches in width. David knew this because on
the second day of its existence he took out his fancy little tape
measure and checked its dimensions. What else would you do with a
pool that spontaneously appeared in your living room? He carefully
noted the dimensions and wrote them down on a wrapper from a
cheesesteak poorboy. He used a black magic marker, for although he
originally tried writing with a blue ball point pen, some grease on
the wrapper made that impossible.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
depth he had not been able to determine. That is often how it is with
spontaneously-appearing living room pools.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">David
had been checking the dimensions daily, to see if they had changed,
and he found no fluctuation in size. Now, after swallowing the
oversized silver capsule of the trickey-dickey powder that he loved
so much (and ingested twice daily) he was conducting another
experiment. He had turned off the heat in his apartment and opened
the windows. As it was in the depths of a Minnesota winter, he
figured the water in the pool should freeze in no time. This had not
yet happened, but the water seemed to be cooling down. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As
he looked down into the water it seemed as though there was a face
visible just a foot or so below the surface. It did not appear to be
attached to a body, and it did not appear to be a severed head, as
had been found in that one spontaneously-appearing living room pool
that had cropped up in a subdivision in Dayton, Ohio back in 1997.
This was just a face, or the form of a face. Perhaps that of a young
woman. Or perhaps it was that of a not-as-young woman. It is hard to
tell in situations like that.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As
he watched the face, he expected to see its eyes open or its lips
move, but neither happened. In a minute the face seemed to vanish.
Immediately the pool began to shrink in size. Soon it was the size of
a coffee table, then the size of a toaster oven, then the size of a
napkin holder, then the size of a deck of cards. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">David
was left looking at a spot of dry carpeting in his very cold living
room.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And
with a face in his memory forever.</span></span></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-2286150625437898492015-03-06T09:15:00.002-06:002015-03-06T09:16:44.625-06:00A Bit of Clarity from Chapter 5 of "Cinema! Cinema!"<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">5.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“That's
one big-time icy doughnut, Baby-cakes,” said Grogan. He peeled the
kumquat-flavored tissue off of his tongue and flicked it away. It
fluttered off on a breeze that neither he nor Rosalyn could feel, but
believe you me (as some would say), they knew it was there. People
seem to be hyper-sensitive around the Waycheeda Glacier, and they
sense everything's presence, even if there is no sensory data to tip
them off.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A word
about the Waycheeda Glacier before we go any further. The name is
quite curious, and it shows up in print with different spellings and
different forms. “Way-chee-dah” was apparently the name that the
ancient inhabitants of Bezelda gave to themselves. It means
something like “people in search of cocktails”. The ancient
inhabitants resettled there by means of time and space travel – all
of the prehistoric Bezeldans or “Way-chee-dah” came from Detroit.
</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Detroit,
Michigan, that is. They were the smart ones who knew enough to get
the hell out.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Waycheeda
Glacier” is the official spelling on government documents and on
maps. Maps and newspapers up until the 1950's (in the earthling
manner of marking years) most often hyphenated the name:
“Way-cheeda”, and sometimes “glacier” was left uncapitalized.
Bezeldans who live near the glacier sometimes just call it “the
'cheeda”, and the guides who take paid expeditions atop the glacier
for backpacking, picnicking, and sex usually refer to it as “The
Ol' Doughnut.”</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now
that you know these details, we shall now attempt to refer to the
glacier from this point on in the manner of the Bezeldan Tourism
Council and the official government appellation: “Waycheeda
Glacier.”</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rab-klaat.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLV478FQ6rJNc7PcwJ97JwmXuhZjggLHwdLJW2KZa-wmXM8Mh5pUH7zDHcZnVC20Ti4cMY7Fop0-Y0eXx2-GllziZSrOYS0u4qRanXQ-yBPA2sFmVv4CCuX1baBrXeudunI2tDimyevZbO/s1600/waycheeda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLV478FQ6rJNc7PcwJ97JwmXuhZjggLHwdLJW2KZa-wmXM8Mh5pUH7zDHcZnVC20Ti4cMY7Fop0-Y0eXx2-GllziZSrOYS0u4qRanXQ-yBPA2sFmVv4CCuX1baBrXeudunI2tDimyevZbO/s1600/waycheeda.jpg" height="268" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-46988958218140468582015-03-02T08:16:00.003-06:002015-03-02T08:26:31.026-06:00Nearly Assumption Day<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEhoyhlvVBsXDZQZCVQjK_1ZG-I7qA1JXjAxfsj1PKRI6YBrT3396s9QTjcci8pDtuy2lod4SDd2fDsNKyBgQ8V7Q7Pg7CRC-kCZZaJRbvU6rxb-cvYxsEEXDImmWo9bYNi5D3xy6Yuz9z/s1600/okra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEhoyhlvVBsXDZQZCVQjK_1ZG-I7qA1JXjAxfsj1PKRI6YBrT3396s9QTjcci8pDtuy2lod4SDd2fDsNKyBgQ8V7Q7Pg7CRC-kCZZaJRbvU6rxb-cvYxsEEXDImmWo9bYNi5D3xy6Yuz9z/s1600/okra.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
was walking downtown (fancy that) to meet my brother Pat at Limpy's
Place one fine summer evening, just after the war. It was the cola
war, in case you were wondering. Do you remember that? Some of the
most viciously-fought advertising campaigns ever seen. It was
brutal. I was able to serve as a mercenary for one of the minor
combatants, “Okra-Kola”. Okra-Kola was a soft drink produced in
Oklahoma City (where else?) that was designed to go perfectly with
barbecue, and that was made with real okra – not artificial okra,
the way that “Dr. Okra” from Tulsa was. I managed to free-lance
a couple of slogans for the company before they folded:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>“Okra-Kola:
It's the Stringy Thing!”</b></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>
</b></i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>
</b></i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>“O-K!
Seed-free Since '73!”</b></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
retrospect, perhaps it wasn't my best work.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyhow,
I was walking down to Limpy's Place and as I passed the Johnson &
Weinberg Hernia Parlour, I happened to spy a most curious little box
on the ground. Who can resist these things, right? It was blue and
seemed to be lacquered. I stopped and looked both ways. Then I
looked up and down. Then I lit a cigarette, just to make me appear
more nonchalant. Putting the lit cigarette behind my ear, I stooped
down, picked up the box, slipped it in my jacket pocket, and walked
on.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A
few steps down the sidewalk I turned into the alleyway just alongside
the New-China Sauerbraten Buffet (which gave off a much more
agreeable aroma than you might have guessed). Making sure that the
coast was clear, I pulled the box out of my pocket and slowly opened
it. Inside there was a lone slip of paper – bigger than you might
find inside a fortune cookie, but smaller than a business card. That
narrows it down, doesn't it?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
took the slip of paper and turned it over to find some words written
in the finest blue script. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It
was wisdom. Divine wisdom.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
read the words again.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
felt a warmth that I had never felt before. It was as if my entire
intellectual and empirical faculties were beginning to glow as an
ember. I was alive. Alive and on fire, as it were, with this
new-found wisdom. I needed to share this with Pat.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
ran out of the alley and sprinted the block and a half to Limpy's
Place. I burst in the door, nearly tripping over Filthy Milt
Gozomski who was back in town and apparently on quite the bender,
owing to his prone position on the floor. I leaped over whatever it
was that he was lying in and stepped over to Pat, who was just
finishing his first triple de-alcoholized scotch-and-tumbler.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Tom,
you look all out of breath. You okay?” he asked, licking the
little bits of peat moss from his complimentary “scotchy-doodle”
that Limpy gives to all of his hard-core <span style="font-family: inherit;">de-alcoholized </span>scotch drinkers.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Patrick...it...it...it's
wisdom...divine wisdom!” I said, handing him the little slip of
paper. “I'm burning with the enlightenment of the ages!”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pat
glanced at the slip of paper, and then up at my head, and then back
at the paper. “Inspected by #7” he read aloud, frowning and
looking a little doubtful.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh,”
I said, “I must have read it upside down. I thought it was in
Cyrillic.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Here's
your martini, Tom,” he said, pulling out a barstool and handing me
a wet rag. “Drink up and crush out that cigarette behind your ear.
You <i><b>do</b></i> know that Brylcreem is flammable, don't you?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(Almost
a true story. The names, circumstances, locations, and dialogue have
been changed to protect the innocent.)</span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-64299635880750769512015-02-27T11:09:00.000-06:002015-02-27T11:09:08.388-06:00Gerald M. Grogan, Jr., Rest in Peace<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v-Olt_Tc59LYHoEwy94fV_qSG_jRmjYwjx3glcKR4XR6CVebrygBMnFVmrQFyhrrUmdggxxQ7oVcAtYa4Ux47vq_eClv_08RaUcePU14CzUFSDoN8feAEkDZJyfQC1e26LIuE3ciVsez/s1600/Jerry+Grogan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v-Olt_Tc59LYHoEwy94fV_qSG_jRmjYwjx3glcKR4XR6CVebrygBMnFVmrQFyhrrUmdggxxQ7oVcAtYa4Ux47vq_eClv_08RaUcePU14CzUFSDoN8feAEkDZJyfQC1e26LIuE3ciVsez/s1600/Jerry+Grogan.jpg" height="194" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1957-2005</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-19304111754296603212015-02-16T09:21:00.002-06:002015-02-16T09:26:40.660-06:00A Bit of Chapter 2<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRhhCbJaEUzO3q51B0Vnchcw6YkOD_7dOkQOw_uCh3-RFqPhjV7VG9uMKi-bUFYHKeHwkQH-oNB8vaKcJ7_RHzNHfcWfbG_2S4wj-J_525ViidwJCQPdKsrJqfNKHtQTL_J9qEGCrCbDt/s1600/DSC07973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPRhhCbJaEUzO3q51B0Vnchcw6YkOD_7dOkQOw_uCh3-RFqPhjV7VG9uMKi-bUFYHKeHwkQH-oNB8vaKcJ7_RHzNHfcWfbG_2S4wj-J_525ViidwJCQPdKsrJqfNKHtQTL_J9qEGCrCbDt/s1600/DSC07973.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Dear and gentle readers, I offer to you a little portion of the second chapter of my next novel - this is <span style="font-family: inherit;">number </span>6, for <span style="font-family: inherit;">crying out loud</span>. It is not a "Michael Nitrous" novel, like novels number 2,3, and 4, although some of the same characters appear, and it is set largely on the extra-planetary orb of Bezelda. Go figure. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Allow me to reconnect a few things for you before I turn this over to the omnicscient-voiced narrator. Yeah, the person who is writing this – you know how when you read something, there is often something called a “narrator” who tells the story in such a way that they seem almost god-like. They know what's going on at all times, in all places, and inside the furry little melons of all the people in any given story. It's crazy, but it sure is useful, because you don't have to worry about anything being entirely hidden – unless the narrator doesn't want you to know what's going on. Kapiche?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, in just a little bit I'm going to turn this whole story over to some narrator's voice, and I'm going to slide into what a friend of mine would call another aspect of reality. I won't really change, and I won't really be in a different place or time – just a different plane, as it were. You'll see. It's not all that weird, really. But in the mean time, let me reconnect a few things for you.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When you see lights in the sky, don't be so damned sure that they are normal. Don't be so damned sure that they're abnormal, either. They might be a bit of both. This applies to about 80% of the people you meet on a daily basis, as well, so take everyone with a grain of freaking salt. Especially if they're wearing roller skates.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">ESPECIALLY if they're wearing roller skates.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When someone gives you something to eat that looks like eyelids and tastes like fish, be careful. You are going to find yourself visiting the commode before too long – I would almost put money on that. We don't gamble too much on Bezelda, but we do have this one game of chance called “pin-flutchey”. In pin-flutchey, several people all take two very sharp steak knives in each hand. That's four steak knives (which we call “klolbs” on Bezelda) per person. We all blindfold ourselves, and then stand in a circle. Beginning with the person who is situated to the northern-most part of the circle and continuing clockwise, each player praises the person to their left, using either standard heroic couplet poetry or Bezeldan pep-mulls. The pep-mulls are a lot more interesting.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When everyone has had the chance to speak, they each throw a certain amount of money into the circle – this amount being determined before organizing the game. After each has thrown in the money, there is a countdown from seven, everyone cries out “pin-flutchey!” throws their steak knives into the air and either runs like hell or stands as still as a statue. You have to do one or the other. If anyone is struck by a knife, he or she gets the money in the pot. If there are two people struck, they split the money, and if there are three or more, all cry out the word “plossit!” and return to the circle for another round.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You can probably figure out the great amount of skill and cunning required to play a game of chance like this. It's not a game for the faint of heart, to be sure.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How did we get on pin-flutchey? Oh yeah, I told you not to eat anything that looked like an eyelid and tasted like fish. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've never been very good at spontaneous pep-mull creation. Not like some guys I know. You probably know pep-mulls as those Bezeldan poems that are kind of like what on earth is called a limerick, except the rhyming scheme is different. Hell, I guess it's safe to say that there is no rhyme scheme at all to a pep-mull. I think the only really similarity, when you come right down to it, is the fact that both limericks and pep-mulls each have five lines. Aside from that, the comparison kind of falls apart. Here is one of my favorite pep-mulls, written by Cran Hylen. You may have heard about him before, as he was the poet-laureate of Bezelda for some time (at least in one particular aspect of reality). Here it is:</span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Blank? Or not with cheese</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>opulent stink of ice-time</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>wobble wobble,</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>wobble crashing parties.</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Stijt.</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That last word, “stijt,” has no real translation into English, but it is a really common word in the Bezeldan day-to-day vocabulary. It means something like “wanting to go and get some toasted bread-product and prepare a sandwich of sorts as long as I have the time to do it without interrupting the rest of my regularly-scheduled daily activities.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That actually comes up in conversation quite frequently on Bezelda, believe it or not.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cran Hylen was an incredibly good poet. He had lost all of the hair on the top of his head, and it regrew on his left forearm. Usually he kept it fairly short and parted it with the addition of a little hair tonic. Every now and again, for a season, he would let it grow long and then push it back with the aid of a nicely-scented pomade. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You just never knew about Cran Hylen.</span></span></div>
martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-3035489126357625802015-02-13T12:42:00.000-06:002015-02-13T12:42:40.922-06:00A Martini and a Pen - OFFICIAL TRAILER #2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-2958520638355622122015-02-13T12:37:00.000-06:002015-02-13T12:37:20.115-06:00A Martini and a Pen - OFFICIAL TRAILER #1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />martinipenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04587300582887055279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8166532805593962885.post-21496869871060761682015-02-07T19:10:00.003-06:002015-02-07T19:28:17.023-06:00The Conclusion of "Radio" - #3 in my "Michael Nitrous" Trilogy of Novels<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLVe_UgvF9G313DBlTQ-Hq2sOyx0zeyabmIdEZJPkI-gp9vSptIy0fLDm9olD64JEv0x6GOTCZEtYqkK7pEzgl6qUxLqyqGjr8oEIT0uq21PRxHFkibv0mGEzg4sIKNCOofxD3dMvPCWN/s1600/radio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLVe_UgvF9G313DBlTQ-Hq2sOyx0zeyabmIdEZJPkI-gp9vSptIy0fLDm9olD64JEv0x6GOTCZEtYqkK7pEzgl6qUxLqyqGjr8oEIT0uq21PRxHFkibv0mGEzg4sIKNCOofxD3dMvPCWN/s1600/radio.jpg" height="146" width="200"></a></div>
<br>
<i>Here you go, friends. I just put the finishing touches on my newest novel, and chapter 19 nails the coffin shut, as it were. This is the third "Michael Nitrous" novel, and I think it ties the others together. Enjoy!</i><br>
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<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
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<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">19.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Salo
is 100% woody. Salo is 100% filmy. That's right – it is both
entirely woody and entirely filmy. It is the only substance on the
face of the earth that has joined, in a hypostatic union of sorts, a
perfect amount of woodiness and a perfect amount of filminess.
Scientists using the most advanced quulmeters cannot figure it out.
It is as though the woodiness and the filminess exist within and
beside and around one another.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You might
recall that Dr. Kichener-Mellon, the Bezeldan Metaphysicist who was
so critical to an earlier part of this tale put it this way in his
award-winning dissertation “Up My Big Fat Creek With Your Lumbering
Sliderule”:</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>x
= [(y – z) + p] + s</b></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Where:</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>x</b>
is the separation of the layers, measured in sweat, and</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>y</b>
is one layer,</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>z</b>
is another layer,</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>p</b>
is the woody/filmy proportion, and</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>s</b>
is the salo-coefficient.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It came
to be realized that salo was itself the one substance that not only
perfectly matched the salo-coefficient (for obvious reasons), but
also wreaked havoc on the rest of the equation due to the woody/filmy
proportion being expressed as either 1 or 1/1. Salo became the
philosopher's stone – the rosetta stone – the alchemic wonder of
the ages. Salo was not only a tasty ethnic treat for Ukrainians
around the world, but also a component in every research laboratory
on Bezelda.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Within
months, scientists had narrowed down (on paper, anyway) the formula
for cold fusion using salo and the salo-coefficient, and it slowly
dawned on them that the path of cold fusion was one they did not want
to walk. The path of cold fusion would leave the salo depleted.
Expended. Spent.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As it
would leave the moral fabric of Bezelda.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dig this,
my friends – when the American scientists detonated the first
atomic bomb way back in the 1940s, they did not know it, but at the
time the detonation resulted in a 18% drop in woodiness on the planet
earth. Earthly scientists had no idea what filminess and woodiness
were, let alone how a proportion between the two could affect life on
earth, so they went ahead and detonated several atomic weapons –
resulting in woody levels to drop to dangerously low levels.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How could
earthly scientists have known? They had no quulmeters.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
Bezeldan scientists figured out what the repurcussions of cold fusion
would be well before they ever attempted it. Mock trials were set up
in large salo-generating laboratories, and industrial-strength
quulmeters were calibrated to insanely high levels of accuracy. In
the end, the Bezeldan High Council of Common Sense ruled that cold
fusion must not be undertaken for the good of future Bezeldan
generations. The scientists boarded up the cold fusion laboratory,
coated the salo in dark chocolate, and threw a gala shindig. The
poet-laureate of Bezelda, Cran Hylen, wrote a sacred pep-mull to
commemorate the event:</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>In the
darkest of night-time science</b></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>O!
With a quul-knowing of filmish-ness.</b></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>For
young,</b></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>for
old.</b></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Adipose
pork tissue without reproach; without guile!</b></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All of
Bezelda agreed that it was one of the finest pep-mulls ever written,
and it was eventually engraved on a plaque that stands at the very
spot where the cold-fusion laboratory used to be.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At the
same time that the pep-mull was released into the eternal ether of
all layers of existence, David Hall realized what the turntable
looked like. In one place in time, anyway.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
another place in time, a black-bladed dagger appeared, seemingly out
of nowhere, and materialized in the unfortunate position of David's
cranium. This was while he was standing between layers of existence
very near NEK-CHEK enterprises. Soon the two entities (David hall
and the dagger) were occupying the same space in the same aspect of
existence, and one or the other had to give. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
<div align="justify" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You can
figure out how this fits together. Rab-klaat.</span></span></div>
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