Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Gypsy Wife

Hello All:
Whatever happened to the Gypsies of yesterday? I remember as a kid that Gypsies were strange people who worked in carnivals or circuses. They could read your palm and tell your fortune, or tell the future by looking at cards and crystal balls. They were often tangled up in a life of criminal activity; stealing or some form of organized crime. And they were well known for migrating through town and stealing people's children.
I watch these reality TV shows like My Gypsy Wedding. From what it portrays; in comparison to the Gypsies of yesterday, Gypsies are simply wealthy and attractive women who freely use the "F" word. I've seen another Reality show about Gypsies in the U.K. They are portrayed as simply uneducated, ill-mannered people who live in trailer parks.
It looks like I have a new series of short stories for the Literary World of Tom Raimbault that centers around a middle-aged fictional character that I call Pias the Gypsy. He has an obsession with fifteen-year-old Melanie. In today's story he reveals the details of his previous marriage; how he abducted a sixteen-year-old girl and turned her into his Gypsy bride. Is this what he wants with Melanie?
If you've ever wondered what happened to the Gypsies of yesterday, I have brought them back for you.
Gypsy Wife
Fifteen-year-old Melanie was sitting on a swing at the park one Sunday afternoon; when out of nowhere, Pias the Gypsy stood next to her. It startled Melanie, especially since her lastencounter with him while visiting her Aunt not more than a week ago.
“Don't be frightened." reassured Pias. 'I know you are uneasy with everything. Let me tell you that I was once in love with a girl like you. At the time I was younger—in my thirties. The circus was always traveling from town to town, and this time was stationed in Minnesota for about three weeks. And I just so happened to have friends who invited me to stay with them while I was in town. This would provide me a chance to get away from the circus when I wasn't working.
These friends were actually the parents of a friend of mine who remembered me. Their kids were all grown up and married with families of their own. They were open to having me stay with them while their son (my friend) would often see me during my stay.
There was something else. Their daughter (my friend's older sister) and her husband were apparently having some financial hardships, and had moved back home with mom and dad. They had children of their own. One of them was a beautiful, young woman named Mira who had just turned 16. She had long, shiny, black hair with mysterious dark eyes, and a pretty face that was perfect like a porcelain doll. And just like you, she had an undeniable attraction and fascination with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I would catch her looking at me. Then she would quickly look away when I glanced over in her direction. And there was also something else interesting that was happening. Through time, she actually began to develop Gypsy eyes. You've seen them before; deeply set eyes with a certain gaze that seems to long and hunger for something as if lost, or looking for something. I began to suspect that perhaps during my visit, I had triggered some memories of a past life in which she had been a Gypsy. The more she encountered me, the more she longed to return to it.
Secretly I began to fall in love with her. I suppose it was fate that she and I would be brought together. But time was running out. The circus was in town for only a few weeks, and I would soon have to pack up and go to the next destination. Chances are I would never see her again. At most I might one day return, and she would have a husband and children of her own.
It was on a Tuesday evening, a night when I did not have to work at the circus, when I found myself to be home alone with her. Both her parents and grandparents had gone to pick up one of the cars that were at the auto mechanic's.—you know; everyone pile into one car, drive there and then someone drives the other car home?
As always, she was a bit bashful and shy around me; but did speak when spoken to. So I attempted a more deeper conversation, "My mother taught me how to tell fortunes with cards." I began. "Would you like me to read your fortune for you?"
She agreed.
Both of us sat down at the kitchen table. I pulled out my deck of cards and spread them out. "Uh-huh... Very interesting..."
"What? What is it?" she asked.
"It says in a past life that you were a Gypsy. It says that my visit has enabled you to remember small portions of this life, and that you have a longing to return to the Gypsy life." I put the cards down and stared deeply into her eyes while asking, "Have you been having memories of your past life?"
She only shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, "Not that I know of."
That's when I stood up, walked over to her and began combing her long, black, pretty hair. "Come with me." I urged. "Leave your parents, your siblings and your school mates behind. Return to the life that you long for—the life of a Gypsy. I've seen how you've been looking at me in the few weeks that I've stayed here. You long for me, and wish for me to be your husband. Together we can start a new life... the life you wish for... the life of a Gypsy."
The moment might have been somewhat overwhelming and frightening for her. She trembled and shook her head, no. She even begged me to go away. But I knew in her heart that she really wanted to come with me and return to the life of a Gypsy. At a loss of what to do at the moment, I simply retired to my room and lay down.
Not more than an hour later, there was a loud rap at my bedroom door. It was her grandfather—my friend's father who allowed me to stay there.
"Did you talk to Mira and ask her to leave with you and become your husband?"
I was shocked and couldn't believe that Mira had disclosed the details of our personal conversation to other people. I knew that in her heart she really wished for what I suggested. But now that people knew, it would be difficult to follow through with it.
"I... I..." Unsure of what to say, all I could do was stutter.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave!" said Mira's grandfather. "She's really shook up about this, and crying. You better leave if you know what's best for you! Her father was seconds from busting down your door and taking care of you. Instead, he's gone outside for a walk to calm down. You better leave before things get out of control!"
I didn't have many belongings—just some dirty clothes, toiletries and some small items I had acquired during the visit. I quickly packed up and ran out of the house. But before scampering out the door I caught a quick view of Mira who had made eye contact with me. She was confused and bewildered; wished that things hadn't turned out this way. Like I said before; she longed for me and longed to return to the life of a Gypsy.
If you've ever wondered why abduction is one of the many lifestyles of a Gypsy, I'll tell you. In the case of Mira, she knew what she wanted but had some inhibitions and reservations. It was up to me to rescue her and help her break through to freedom.
It was on the final day of the circus being in town, a Monday morning following the previous evening's last show before we head out. A colleague who worked in the circus allowed me to borrow his car. I knew that Mira walked to school each day, and I somewhat knew of her route. This made it easy for me to park the car in an alleyway that intersected Mira's walk to school.
The trunk was open, and I hid on the opposite side of the building, just close enough to the sidewalk where I could quickly grab Mira. In the pocket of my jacket was a hypodermic needle with drugs that would immediately put her to sleep.
I listened for her foot steps and then walked out in front of her when I believed she was close enough. And she was; by about two feet.
Mira looked up at me in terror, and seemed to know what was about to happen.
"Relax..." I reassured her. "Everything will be fine.
She tried to run away, but I was able to grab her arm. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the needle. It was stuck into her shoulder and the drugs rushed in.
Her body almost immediately went limp. She was light enough for me to lift up and throw into the truck of the car. I slammed it shut and drove back to the site to continue with helping the breakdown of the circus.
About six hours later, I noticed that police had come for an apparent investigation. I knew they were looking for me. But before they saw me—before anyone could summon me to talk to the police—I sneaked out to my colleague's car and opened the trunk.
Mira was awake and bit groggy.
"Shhhhh... Everything is okay." I reassured her. "Here, have some water." I had a bottle of water in my jacket and dumped the contents into her mouth.
She swallowed and nearly choked.
"That's enough!" I said while pulling the bottle away. You can have more, later. We'll be leaving tonight, and soon you will be my Gypsy bride. Before she could notice, I pulled out another needle and stuck it into Mira's arm which put her back to sleep.
Upon returning to the area where I worked, I was immediately recognized by the owner and handed over to the police for questioning. Although I hadn't been arrested, I was forced to answer their questions, right there on the work site.
"Were you staying at Roger Dawlis' house for a few weeks while the circus was in town?" one of the officers asked.
"I was..."
"Did you have any conversations with his granddaughter, Mira Leeland?"
"She lives there." I explained. "So through time we did exchange simple conversation."
The officer went right for the throat, "And did you ask her to run away with you and marry her?"
I nervously laughed and shook my head in disbelief before explaining, "At one point I did mention to her the lifestyle of Gypsies and said that sometimes young women are abducted and forced to become Gypsy brides. But I think it might have gotten to her head. I think she believed that maybe I was suggesting that she should do this."
The other officer who remained silent suddenly spoke up. "You look nervous! Is there something wrong?"
"No..." I calmly answered. "I guess I'm just concerned about what all of this could be about. Is Mira okay?"
"She's been reported as missing." answered the other officer.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed with hand to opened mouth.
"You're not a suspect, yet." continued the officer. "But you are a person of interest. Do you have a sleeping quarters? Would you mind if we checked?"
"Of course not." I reassured the officer. "Please look all you need."
I remained outside while the officers checked my sleeping quarters. As for Mira out in the trunk; I had nothing to fear. My colleague who let me borrow his car wouldn’t inform the police of what I had done. This is how Gypsies are. We stick together and take care of our own. In fact, many people who worked in the circus were aware that I had abducted Mira. It's just the lifestyle of a Gypsy, and so is evading the police.
The officers found nothing, but I was asked not to go too far in case they had other questioning. I wasn't going to obey them. The circus fully packed up and we head out of town by the following evening.
Much of the circus traveled by train; which meant that the performers and managers had their sleeping and living quarters, subdivided on box cars. As for my Gypsy bride to be; Mira had been moved into my sleeping quarters and was kept locked up in a large trunk that sat next to my bed. I regularly opened it to see how she was doing.
"Are you okay?" I would softly ask. I knew she was sick and experiencing withdrawal from the drugs.
She would nod.
"How about some water?" I offered.
She would eagerly drink.
I was sure to bring her food throughout our travel.
I would carry her over to use the chamber pot when needed, and then would put her back to the trunk when she was finished.
At night I would comb my fingers through her pretty hair and softly kiss her cheek while telling her how much I loved her.
By the third day of our travel, some of the Gypsy women had entered my quarters and asked if they could see Mira. Everyone was very excited with the new addition to our family and a wedding in the near future.
Proudly I opened the trunk and displayed my bride to be.
The women immediately fell in love with her.
"Oh, she's beautiful!"
"So pretty!"
"So young!"
"Let her out! We'll take such, good care of her!"
I did as the Gypsy women requested.
They escorted Mira to another area of the living quarters and immediately dressed her in Gypsy clothes. They applied Gypsy makeup to her face, and decorated her with fine jewelry. You see; stealing is part of the lifestyle of a Gypsy, so we have an abundance of everything. We come into this world with nothing—no home, no possessions, no respect, and no laws to obey. So we take whatever we want and make it ours—clothing, jewelry, money and things of great value. Gypsies are very wealthy for this reason. And a Gypsy bride will always be decorated with the finest clothing and jewelry.
It didn't take long before Mira tossed away her reservations of becoming a Gypsy. In fact, she might have forgotten and left her previous life behind the very moment she took a look at herself in the mirror. From that moment on, she was mine...
...for about six years, that is—two of those years worked at the circus.
You see, Mira was very young and vibrant with a gradual tendency to be consumed with the novelty of things. The circus would arrive at a new town, which would be a fresh start for Mira and me. But after the first couple of weeks in the new town, the experience would get stale for her. This staleness would soon be projected onto me and our marriage.
She was an acrobat in the circus, and had a habit of flirting with young men out in the audience. She had those Gypsy eyes and could easily suggest a night of romance just by locking eyes with a male of interest.
I tried not to let it get the best of me. I realized that nothing could ever come out of it. Spectators, after all, were not allowed behind stage. But then Mira began to flirt and come-on to other men who worked in the circus. Many times I had to fight other men for Mira, and almost lost. A couple of times I had gotten so frustrated that I even smacked her in the face and bruised her up pretty bad. You see; this is acceptable in Gypsy society. Sometimes a wife can become rebellious and disobedient. The husband must regain control which sometimes includes giving his wife a good beating.
One time I tried to reason with her. "Look; we travel from town to town. You are young and get bored easily. You just have to deal with it. We always move on and you get a fresh start. Just try to remind yourself of this."
I didn't work so well.
By the end of those two years of working in the circus, the authorities caught up to us. They were looking for Mira who had surely been abducted, and I was the prime suspect. Many people run away and join the circus. But we actually did the opposite, and ran away from the circus for freedom.
Gypsies stick together and take care of their own. My Gypsy family in the circus pooled money together, and we were given an old camper with a wad of small cash to get us on our feet. This enabled us to drive off into the sunset and remain one step in front of the law.
We made money by traveling from town to town where carnivals were set up for weekends or events. We simply pulled our camper into whatever parking lot a carnival was held and set ourselves up as the "Gypsy Attraction". I would read people's fortunes with cards. Mira would bring groups of people into the camper where they would pay to see her perform mesmerizing belly dancing. Most of the time these spectators were young men who hoped they could offer her more money for additional services. I was outraged upon learning this, but tried to keep my head.
At almost every carnival we worked, Mira provoked a young man to become interested in her. And just as things looked like this young man would finally succeed in breaking the ice, it would be time for the carnival to be broken down and for us to head out on the road in search of more work. Finally, she was mine again... for a brief while.
This went on for a few years. And it wasn't until I came home from one of the beer tents after working one night that I discovered Mira lying naked in our marital bed with a young man. He was having sex with her. It broke my heart and I knew that our marriage could never be the same. I just walked away... far, far away; away from the carnival and away from the town. I walked away from it all and started a new life.
And here I am today.”
Melanie looked away from Pias and down at the ground. His story was definitely mesmerizing, and maybe a trick to hypnotize her into following him. Is this what Pias wanted from Melanie? Did he want to take her away from her family, and turn Melanie into his Gypsy wife?
Pias added more, "I know you are aware that it isn't uncommon for Gypsy men to have relationships with young women your age to teach them how to be good lovers. But those relationships are only temporary. I wish to have something with you that is better than what I had with Mira. I wish for you to be my Gypsy bride so we can be together, forever.
Come with me, Melanie. Leave your family behind and start a new life with me as a Gypsy."
Suddenly, there was a carousel on the grounds of the park. It spun round and round as the animals bobbed up and down. It looked just as frightening as the time when Pias brought the balloons in her Aunt's house. There were acrobats, and trapeze artists; clowns and lion tamers; freaky people of all walks of life who waved at Melanie as they rode the carousel.
"Come with us Melanie... Come with us Melanie..."
Melanie screamed and sat up in bed. It was another strange dream; apparently a recurring dream about Pias the Gypsy. How much longer would these go on?

The End!

Monday, July 28, 2014

Orthon's Shoeprint

Hello All:
If you have a lawn mower, then surely you understand the weekly ritual. Simply start up the mower, make a couple perimeters around the edge of the property and around then home. Then choose a direction with your mower to make your passes.
Up and down... up and down... up and down... You walk behind the mower and make straight lines until the entire lawn is mowed. It's pretty simple.
Just like you, I mow the lawn each week. But recently I've tried something new. I am now creating designs on my lawn such as squares and octagons. I start at the very center and create a small shape. Then I sprawl out until reaching the edge of the lawn. It's my hope to eventually make homemade crop formations. But as I'm finding out, the patterns of shapes don't look right on the grass. I think it's because in previous weeks I cut in various directions. The end result is a messy bunch of lines that crisscross and don't make any recognizable shapes. I think the solution is to stick with one pattern for a number of weeks so that, eventually, it's the only one that can be seen.
Today's featured writing is a brand new Cableman story that includes George Adamski's space brother contactee, Orthon. The late Adamski mentioned Orthon on numerous occasions. He was a Venusian space brother who worked closely with George. And supposedly, Orthon left a peculiar shoeprint that contained some unusual designs.
Orthon's Shoeprint
Located in Boulder, Colorado is a federal technology agency known as the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST). Responsible for many aspects of measurement and calibration; the NIST is most recognized for its cesium atomic clock which keeps accurate track of time. And among countless other measurements, there is what many electronic professionals have dubbed as God’s Power Meter which declares to the world—exactly—what 1 watt of power is. This standard is used to calibrate electronic equipment and measurement devices.  Anyone working in the telecommunications industry, computing, electric power distribution, etc depends on the accurate standard of 1 watt which is designated by the NIST.
It might be someone like the Cableman, who on an afternoon in Tuesday was out in the middle of a desolate highway and taking measurements on a telephone pole. He spent much of the day troubleshooting a cable outage, and finally restored service to hundreds of families who so desperately needed their cable TV and Internet. But before he signed off on the job, the Cableman thought it was best to take a simple measurement, just to ensure that all was well.
He stood on a fiberglass ladder many feet in the air that was mounted to the telephone pole. The probe of a power meter touched one of the connections on an open cable tap as the Cableman expected to read 1 watt.
“.987 watts…” he read out loud. “That’s close enough!”
Close enough? Did the Cableman just carelessly accept 987 milliwatts as 1 watt of power? This would be analogous to stating that 98 cents is close enough to 1 dollar. And it is. But in the world of cable TV and Internet service where 1 watt is distributed down a neighborhood street and split up to everyone’s television sets, this seemingly-negligible amount of .013 watts can add up and cause loss of signal quality.
Perhaps this is why the Cableman’s boss called him in the office on late Tuesday afternoon before clocking out. “Cableman, can I see you for a moment?” the boss called out.
Uh-oh! What did the Cableman do this time?
“Sure, Boss. What’s up?” He poked his face into the boss’ office.
“Have a seat.”
The Cableman did as ordered.
“We have a visitor from corporate coming up here to visit on Friday.” began the boss. “He’s the calibration manager who has been analyzing our monthly signal reports. He doesn’t like what he sees. We’ve been cited as having some unacceptable levels of power loss.”
“Really?” asked the Cableman with such a note of surprise.
“Yup!” reassured the boss. “I’m not sure what you installers are doing out there, but we have a mysterious loss of power. The calibration manager wants to ride with one of the installers and see what we might be doing wrong."
“Okay…” answered the Cableman.
“His name is Orthon.” continued the boss. “Again, he’s the corporate calibration manager; and I’m assigning him to ride with you on Friday. You cannot mess this up, Cableman! You need to give him the white glove service, and do everything by the book. If you are measuring something and see it’s off by only a little bit, you have to look into it. Do not let this guy think that we are being lazy!”
“No problem Boss.” reassured the Cableman.
“Good man!”
While driving home from work that afternoon, the Cableman started to feel guilty for accepting power levels that were close enough to 1 watt. Could this be what was causing the mysterious loss of power?
“Bah! We all do it!” exclaimed the Cableman over the music of Styx that pumped out of the speakers. He was trying to jam out to “come sail away”, but kept feeling guilty.
“We all do it!” the Cableman shouted, again. “I mean if we corrected every, little thing; nothing would ever get done around here. It’s too much of a big problem for me to worry about!” Then he resumed singing with the radio, “... come sail away, come sail away, come sail with me!”
Later that night as the Cableman slept in bed, he was transported through the astral realm to the Arcturian starship, Athena, where he met his former girlfriend, Melissa. Recall that since their breakup, the Cableman has been meeting Melissa on Starship Athena for more instruction and training in his Earthly transformation into space brotherhood. For all practical purposes, the Cableman could now be considered a first degree Earthly space brother who is already carrying out small missions on behalf of the interstellar space brother council. And he was about to given a new assignment.
“Orthon is en route from Saturn to meet with you on Friday.” informed Melissa to the Cableman. The two were standing in the Encyclopedia Galactica room; a room which contained an enormous book of every creature throughout the universe—current and past lives. Melissa had Orthon’s page open. “He’s a space brother, a direct descendant of Earth’s Atlantis, and is hundreds of years old. Originally believed to be a Venusian, Orthon actually resides on one of the moons of Saturn. He is coming to give you some important instructions…”
“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” The alarm clock awoke the Cableman from his interesting dream of Melissa on Starship Athena. He slapped the button and sat up in bed while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Really, the Cableman had mixed feelings about his dreams of Melissa. Were they subconscious revelations of his longing to reunite with Melissa? Or was she truly communicating with him in the astral realm on the Arcturian Starship, Athena? Whatever the truth, the dreams only left the Cableman feeling sad for the morning. Why did Melissa have to leave him?
Not wanting to write the dreams off as merely subconscious revelations of a broken heart, the Cableman considered Melissa’s message. Was this Orthon the calibration manager really an interplanetary being who was coming from Saturn to meet with the Cableman? If so, what sort of information might he have?
Wednesday and Thursday passed. The Cableman nearly forgot his dream of Melissa and her message. But come Friday when he strolled into the boss’ office, the Cableman was nearly startled upon seeing Orthon for the first time. There was something odd in his appearance. Although he certainly looked human, there were some subtle features in Orthon’s face that suggested him to be not of this world. He was medium height with tanned skin; and had long, blond hair. Orthon’s pants were baggy, and appeared to be something one would wear while working out. And he wore a tight, black t-shirt that had the ancient Nordic symbol, perthro, on the front. Perthro is the letter “p” in the ancient Nordic alphabet. It also represents the conditions of coincidence and chance in ancient Norse cosmology—a very unlikely message to be given by a supposed calibration expert who would leave nothing to chance and the unknown.
“Hello, Cableman! I am Orthon.” he greeted while presenting the Pleiadian hand gesture. The Pleiadian hand gesture is a secret sign that fellow Earth-based space brothers and sisters give one another to establish contact. It can also be used between interplanetary visitors and Earth people to establish contact as well. Not many Earth people understand the gesture and often overlook it as simple wave of the hand. The Pleiadian hand gesture is done by lifting either the left or right hand to about shoulder level with palm opened and facing the intended recipient; fingertips and thumb extend to the sky. The opened hand should be approximately six to twelve inches from the shoulder. The forearm is parallel to the chest. (Not extended out like a Nazi high solute!) The fingers and thumb remain together—not webbed or spread open. The one presenting this gesture maintains position for about a second while locking eyes with the intended recipient.
Instinctively, the Cableman returned the gesture and maintained eye contact with Orthon for about a second. Then both men provided Earthly business greetings by shaking hands.
“Orthon is going to ride with you, today, Cableman.” announced the boss. “Show him around our network. Let him see how we do things.” Then he addressed Orthon, “And if you need anything or have any questions, call my direct number.”
Orthon nodded, and then motioned for the Cableman to lead him out into the cable yard and to his cable van.
Once leaving the cable yard and traveling down the road, Orthon put the Cableman at ease. “I’m not sure you fully understand why I’m here. We do have some unacceptable levels of power loss at this cable network. But try not to worry. It’s not your fault. We’re simply going to get to the root cause and correct it.”
“Well that’s a relief.” said the Cableman with a sigh.
About twenty minutes later, the Cableman and Orthon stood at one of the main cable utility boxes in town. The box was opened, and the Cableman held a power meter in his hand while demonstrating how he takes measurements. “This is where we take the measurement. We are supposed to measure 1 watt.” The Cableman placed the lead of his power meter on the measurement point.
The meter read 1.03 watts.
“And that would be an acceptable level of power.” explained the Cableman.
“Very good.” answered Orthon. “But let me ask you; how do you know if your meter is accurate? How do you know that it isn’t taking erroneous readings?”
The Cableman flipped his power meter over and said, “The meter was returned from calibration four months ago. It should be good.”
“Ah…” retorted Orthon. “But how do you know the calibration hasn’t drifted in those four months?”
The Cableman was at a loss, and could only shrug his shoulders. “I don’t know…”
“See what I mean.” pointed out Orthon. “There are all these little factors that come into play that can be causing your system’s mysterious loss of power levels. And again, don’t worry; it’s not your fault.”
For a brief second, the Cableman glanced down on the ground that was bare soil—still somewhat damp from an overnight rain fall. Orthon had left a shoe print that was most unusual. Apparently, there were some strange symbols and petro glyphs engraved on the sole of his shoe. There were two hearts and a clover that one might see on a deck of playing cards. There was an ichthys; more commonly referred to as the Christian fish symbol with three dots surrounding the tail.—Father, Son and Holy Ghost? And then there was a symbol that didn’t sit well with the Cableman that almost looked like a modified swastika. There were actually two of them. To this the Cableman reassured himself that the modified swastika didn’t represent the evil that we’ve come to know on Earth. Orthon was from another planet, and the symbol surely represented something else. The shoe print also included other strange symbols that one might recognize as being runic. There was kenaz, uruz and sowilo. The other symbols the Cableman did not recognize.
Orthon continued with his discussion of power meter calibration. “I always go directly to the NIST to have my power meter calibrated. If I know I’m going to be doing some measuring, I go there first thing in the morning. That’s what you need to start doing.”
“You want me to go to the NIST every morning to get my meter calibrated?” asked the Cableman with a dumbfounded look.
“Yes…” acknowledged Orthon while smiling and nodding his head.
“But that’s hundreds of miles away from here; maybe a thousand. I could never do that.”
“Trust me, Cableman!” reassured Orthon. “Don’t worry; you’re going to be given some tools to do your job more efficiently. Let’s take a drive. I want to show you something.”
And with that, the Cableman and Orthon went back to the cable van and drove off. Orthon’s strange shoe prints remained in the soil near the utility box.
For about ten minutes Orthon navigated the Cableman through town and eventually to a forested highway. They reached a sign that announced “dead end up ahead” which implied it was best to turn right on the intersecting road.
The Cableman looked over to Orthon. “Now which way?”
“Keep going straight.” ordered Orthon.
Not more than a minute on the dead end road, the Cableman reached a gravel road which led into the forest. But it was blocked by one of those signs that forest rangers stretch across forest preserve entrances with steel cable.
Orthon reached into his pocket and pulled out a laminated card that read “Government Use” followed by a series of letters and numbers. “Here!” Orthon said while giving the Cableman the card. “You are now licensed to access areas like the one I’m about to show you. Pull that cable down, drive your van through, and then stretch the cable across once you are inside. I’ll explain more in a minute.”
Confused, the Cableman did as Orthon ordered. What sort of license did the Cableman receive? Just where in the world was Orthon leading him? And what did this strange activity have to do with the NIST in Boulder, Colorado, which was almost a thousand miles away.
A minute later, after the entrance was re-blocked and the Cableman proceeded to drive the gravel road through the forest, Orthon began to explain. “I actually used to be a Lieutenant in the Air Force. Even though I’m retired, I still have access to government and military utilities.  I am also able to grant licenses to others—people like you.”
“Okay…?” answered the Cableman. It still didn’t explain why they were now humping down an off-beaten, gravel path in the forest.
The cable van roared up an incline. Then, at the top, they were faced with what appeared to be a mountainous pile of large boulders.
Orthon handed the Cableman what looked to be nothing more than a FOB that one would keep on their key ring to deactivate an alarm and unlock a door. “Here! This is yours! Press the button and wait.”
The Cableman did as ordered.
Several seconds later, a large opening at the base of the pile of boulders opened up. A man dressed in Army fatigue appeared and motioned the Cableman to drive through.
The Cableman could hardly believe what he was seeing! Never in his life did he imagine ever experiencing something like this. But it was about to get even more unbelievable.
Once inside, the entrance door shut. The Cableman and Orthon were now in some sort of preliminary lobby that faced several steel doors.
The man in Army fatigue approached the driver side window. “Good morning, gentlemen. What’s the destination?”
“NIST in Boulder, Colorado.” answered Orthon from the passenger seat. Then he ordered the Cableman, “Show him your license.”
The Cableman handed the laminated card to the man in Army fatigue.
After writing down whatever necessary information from the card on a clipboard, the man in Army fatigue handed it back. “Okay, pull up to corridor 6.”
The Cableman drove through the area until reaching a steel door with the number 6 painted on it. The door immediately slid open, and the Cableman drove through. Then the door shut. He and Orthon were now inside of what reminded the Cableman as some sort of large cargo elevator.
Orthon explained, “This is one of many underground pneumatic tubes that interconnect throughout America and bring passengers to various destinations. The actual speed of travel is classified. Even I don’t know how fast these things go. But anyone is intelligent enough to figure it out if they do the math—simply calculate destination and time. But keep the answer to yourself.”
The van suddenly rotated 90 degrees counter clockwise.
“You see that?” asked Orthon.
“Yeah, what happened?”
The van is actually sitting on a platform that is designed freely spin as we increase in speed. We are travelling right now. We could be going many tens of thousands of miles per hour. The initial take-off could rip your face apart if the van didn’t rotate with the movement. I’d hate to know how they learned about that.”
Occasionally the van rattled up and down or side to side. There was wind blowing in from somewhere. The Cableman assumed it was from the effect of pneumatic pressure. And then he started to feel anxiety. Was he actually traveling tens of thousands of miles per hour under the ground?
“Relax, Cableman!” reassured Orthon. “You’ll be fine! I’ve done this many times and survived.”
Nervously, the Cableman laughed. “Yeah, I guess I’m freaking out a little bit.”
“That’ll happen on your first couple of times. But don’t let it get the best of you.”
“I’m trying…” answered the Cableman.
It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes of travel when, suddenly, the van rotated back to its original position. A steel doorway opened, and woman appeared who was dressed in Army fatigues. She motioned the Cableman to drive out and then pointed to the open door which led to the outside world.
“That’s it?” asked the Cableman.
“That’s it!” acknowledged Orthon as the two drove through to the outside world. “We are now on the side of the mountain. Simply drive forward and we will pull onto Flagstaff road—right up there.”
The Cableman joined with the road. “Which way should I turn?”
“Make a right.”
“Eventually, this will turn into Baseline Road. Just follow this to Route 93 and all the way to the NIST.”
“Yeah, could you calibrate my power meter for me?”
The Cableman an Orthon were now in the power measurement department of the NIST.
“Sure thing!” said the clerk at the desk while taking the Cableman’s meter.
Ten minutes later, the meter was returned with a fresh calibration. The Cableman was given a corporate credit card to pay for his daily NIST calibrations. It was that easy!
For the rest of the day, upon returning from Boulder, Colorado; Orthon rode with the Cableman and observed how he handled customer service calls. Orthon was proud of his space brother cadet who seemed to have learned well. But by mid afternoon, something changed. Orthon no longer appeared as someone from another world. Even his attitude changed into some jerk corporate manager. Was it all an illusion? Did the Cableman imagine the visitation of Orthon the space brother who traveled from one of the moon of Saturn? Or did he experience something similar to what Melissa once experienced with aliens that had telepathically projected themselves onto nearby humans?
One thing was certain. The Cableman still had his government-issued license to travel through underground pneumatic tubes. He had his FOB to open the entrances of these pneumatic entrances. And at the end of the day, the Cableman returned to the utility box where Orthon had made the strange shoeprints. They were still there.
With a shovel, the Cableman dug around the area of Orthon’s full shoeprint and extracted it. It now sits on a shelving unit in the Cableman’s apartment, right next to a lava light.
The End!

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Swordfish Chili

Hello All:
More starseed awakening / Earthly transformation videos; some writers offer similar material like this as starseed DNA activation videos. This 4:18 video which includes the music of Jens Buchert begins with what appears to be a cruise through the everglades on a high-powered air boat. Then you are whisked off to a mountainous, desert, terrain--perhaps Yellowstone National Park--where you witness geysers build up their energy before erupting. When they finally do, you are brought close enough to see the patterns in the water. It soon becomes clear that this video guides the user through understanding geomancy and the Earth's Telluric grid. But it isn't only the Earth and water that inter plays with this grid. Cloud formations are part of this as well. Wear headphones! NOTE: There is a link embedded in the video that offers you to watch the entire video somewhere else. Disregard this link--unless you want to view this person's entire collection of You Tube videos. I hand picked this one to match the series of Earthly transformation videos.

Swordfish Chili
Why would anyone want to make chili out of delicious meat such as swordfish? Swordfish on its own is wonderful and is very meaty without the pungent, fishy taste. It is often described as being similar to shark or tuna steak and is recommended to enjoy with a rosemary and garlic bere blanc, a side of wild mushroom risotto and a glass of chardonnay. Needless to say you wouldn't classify swordfish in the same category as tuna salad, or fried-lake-perch.
So why would you make chili with swordfish? This would be done if you had an excessive amount of swordfish on hand and couldn't get enough people to help themselves to the steaks you were graciously giving away. How would you find yourself having an excessive amount of swordfish steaks on hand? If you went fishing for swordfish you were more-than-likely fortunate enough to catch a fish that was at least 1,000 pounds and approximately 13 feet long. They are huge!
Before you pitch this writing in the trash and say you'll never get out to sea to catch swordfish, understand that despite popular belief you don't need to go to the Gulf of Mexico or some Pacific waters to catch Swordfish. Many local lakes and ponds in your area are stocked yearly with different breeds of fish and this includes swordfish. You might have one of those drainage ponds at your local park that contain a collection of carp, bass, or swordfish. If you don't think there are any swordfish at your local park, just contact your town's recreation department and request swordfish to be added to the mixture of fish stocked in the lake each year.
Okay, so it's a beautiful day; the swordfish are jumping at the pond at your local park, which is only 5 minutes away and you are ready! But before you go fishing, there are a few things you need to know about swordfish. The first thing you should understand is that swordfish don't hang around the shore. You need to go out in the middle of the water to catch them. Needless to say you will need a boat.
But there's more! Catching swordfish takes much skill and patience. You won't be bating the hook with a worm! You need to use bait fish like mackerel, mullet, herring or bonito. And it takes a long time to land a swordfish. It's a major fight to reel the fish in and the whole battle could take an hour to three hours. Keep in mind you are dealing with possibly 1300 pounds at the end of your fishing line and these guys can travel up to 50 miles-per-hour. In an attempt to fight the line, the swordfish will probably jump out of the water. Keep this in mind when the fish is close to the boat because the sword may be coming right at you. The swordfish is an aggressive fish and when near the boat it may thrust it's sword at the side of the boat. Sometimes the swordfish is successful in piercing the side of the boat. Be very careful when pulling in this fish.
It takes a crew to pull the swordfish on to the boat, unless you think you are strong enough to pull at least a thousand pounds of aggression out of the water. Once the fish is on the boat, extreme caution must be observed not to get injured by the sword. You should be wearing gloves and should make a conscious effort not to be in the way of that sword! Proudly row your boat to shore while all the kids playing at your local park watch in amazement at the huge fish being brought in. And of course, do not allow children or other observers to approach the swordfish once it's been brought to shore.
You will more-than-likely have a surplus of swordfish steaks and you may want to try this delicious swordfish chili recipe:
4 lb chopped swordfish steak (cooked!)
28 oz Stewed tomatoes
2 Large onions
4 Garlic cloves
1/2 c Flour
2 can Ranch beans
1/2 c Chili powder
12 oz Beer

2 tb Cumin
1 tb Cayenne
2 ts Salt

1. Sauté onions and garlic in oil. Add ingredients, except for beans. Simmer for two hours and then add beans before serving.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Mr. Particular

Hello All:

When taking RF measurements in the lab with sensitive equipment, it's highly advisable to perform a power flow analysis in advance to predict whether or not you could damage things. This can easily be done on a spreadsheet. Take a look at my diagram. We see that I have -20dBm coming out of the ZVA network analyzer which is fed into one of the ports
of a coupler. The port offers -20dB of attenuation (which is why I chose to use the couplers). This drops the signal down to -40dBm. The gain of the device, however, offers +20dB which brings us back to -20dBm at the output. From there, the signal comes out of one of the taps of the coupler which offers -20dB of attenuation. But before reaching the receiving end of the ZVA network analyzer, that -40dBm signal passes through a -10dB attenuator which delivers a total of -50dBM of final signal. The ZVA network analyzer can certainly handle this.
Oh but don't think that I'm Mr. Particular! Really I only analyze things this way in the lab. At least I'm not like the main character in today's brand new story.
Mr. Particular
Edward leaves nothing to chance, and leaves no small detail unconsidered. Even the task of turning on the television—a task that you and I believe to be brainless and automatic—is carefully analyzed and planned out before doing it. In fact, one evening, Edward saw one of his kids simply turning on the TV in the living room which irked him.
"Cory, what are you doing?"
"Watching TV..."
"Watching TV? Now that's a very dangerous statement. What do you mean by watching TV? Define watching TV."
His son, Cory, became annoyed with another one of his father's stupid sessions of hyper analyzing as he sighed, "Come on Dad! I want to watch my show."
"Watch your show? I don't know what that means. Can you please tell me?"
"On the TV!"
"What's a TV? That's what I'm trying get to. You haven't defined to me what a TV is, much less what it means to watch your show. I'm just trying to understand what that means, that's all."
Cory shook his head in disbelief, "That's a TV, Dad." while pointing to it.
"And why do you call that a TV?"
"Because that's what it is!" shouted Edward's son in total irritation.
"Now don't get smart me!" warned Edward. "I don't think you understand how dangerous it is to simply assume things and leave your life on automatic copilot. You need to think very carefully before following through with something. Now let's look at this thing that you call a TV. I'm going to shut if off so we can start at the beginning." Edward grabbed the remote control from his son, and turned off the TV.
"Come-on, Dad!"
A look of warning was given to his son in return before continuing. "Now, I walk over to this rectangular object and can immediately see a bunch of wires and cables sticking out of it. I can see that one of those wires sticks into some kind of three-pronged outlet on the wall. For the sake of argument, I'm going to make the hypothesis—not immediately assume and believe to be fact—that this three-pronged outlet is an electrical outlet. What's an electrical outlet? Well under this hypothesis, I'm going to theorize that it's the final point where electricity from the power plant is delivered to our home and at one of the walls—this particular one. And how am I going to prove this hypothesis? I'm going out to my garage to get a voltmeter and check it."
Edward dashed out to the garage and returned with a voltmeter as promised. Then he unplugged the TV from the wall.
"Nice going, Dad!" shouted Edward's son, Cory. "Now the TV is going to have to reprogram itself once you plug it back in."
"Reprogram itself? I don't know what that means. Define reprogram itself?"
Cory sighed and shook his head in annoyance. He just wanted to watch his show on TV.
"Now, this is a voltmeter." continued Edward. "I know this because the label on the front says it's a voltmeter. Plus, when I turn it on there is some digital display that reads values in volts. And look..." he held the meter up to his son's face. "... It's apparently looking for values because it's taking random, small measurements. I'm not sure why it does that. Maybe I'll write the manufacturer and ask why. In fact, maybe I'll leave that project to you. By the end of this week, I want you to do some research into this voltmeter, learn who the manufacturer is, learn a little about their company, and then write them a letter; ask them why this voltmeter takes random small measurements when not receiving a voltage. You might want to find some documentation on the internal circuitry. Again, that will probably take some additional research on your part to understand electronics; but it will help you appear intelligent when asking your questions."
Edward walked over to the three-pronged outlet on the wall and stuck the probes in. How he didn't get into another detailed discussion on reading the instructions on the voltmeter is amazing. Perhaps even Edward sometimes fails to carefully analyze and evaluate every task.
"120 volts, AC. Do you see that, Cory? Come here! Look at this!"
Having no choice, Cory did as his father ordered and answered, "Uh-huh."
"What does that say?" Edward asked.
"120 VAC..." answered Cory.
"That VAC means voltage AC." explained Edward. And that AC further means alternating current. At this point we can conclude that our hypothesis is correct. This is an electrical outlet that delivers the necessary 120 volts AC to household appliances—in our case, this rectangular box that we are currently analyzing and trying to understand. But even still, we don't know where the electricity is coming from, or if it is always there. See what I mean?"
Cory watched as his father began to slowly slip into another psychotic episode of shaking his head while approaching near convulsion. His body would soon start trembling. It would be necessary for Father to go for a walk and bring down his blood pressure to return for more arguing and hyper analyzing.
 "I don't know... I just don't... See what I mean...? We haven't proven anything. I'm just trying to understand what this three-pronged outlet is and what this rectangular box is that you call a TV!" Edward slowly exhaled air through his lips with hands on his head. Then he continued. "I mean what are all of these other cables behind it? And look! There's another cable sticking out of the wall. This one allows for another screw-on connector to connect to it. I don't have the right kind of tool to measure and validate what it is. Do you see what I mean? We haven't been able to prove anything or fully comprehend what this rectangular object is. And you simply call it a TV. So what's a TV? What does it do?"
On the verge of a breakdown, Edward stormed out of the house, presumingly to go for a walk and bring down his blood pressure. But I suppose in Edward's world, the onlooker hasn't proven anything.
Relieved, Cory finally turned on the TV (allowing, first, for it to reprogram itself) and watched his show. But he wouldn't be able to fully relax. His father would return in about twenty minutes for more arguing and hyper analyzing.
One Friday evening; Edward and his wife, Jill, decided to order pizza for dinner. Jill had a long day at the office and didn't feel like cooking. Plus, everyone would have enjoyed some Friday night pizza.
"Hold it!" interrupted Edward as Jill picked up the phone. "Not so fast! I'm going to use this as an opportunity to prove my argument from the last time you ordered TV."
"Edward, not tonight!"
"No! Let me order the pizza this time! I will show you the proper way of doing it." You see, Edward does not like the way his wife simply orders pizza on the telephone.
Let's look at what she does wrong.
The last time she called, the voice of a young girl answered the phone, "King Louis' pizza; is this pick up or delivery?"
"Delivery..." answered Jill.
"Can I have your phone number?"
"Okay, and what would you like?"
"I want a total of three family sized pizzas. One with pepperoni, another with sausage and mushroom, and third to be a buffalo chicken."
The person answering the phone took down the order and then repeated, "Okay so that's three family sized pizzas; a pepperoni, a sausage and mushroom, and a buffalo chicken. Would there be anything else?"
"Okay, your total is $62.80. That should be there in about 45 minutes."
But this was all wrong in Edward's world! He would show his wife the proper way to go about ordering pizza as he dialed the phone number that was listed on the menu.
"King Louis' pizza; is this pick up or delivery?" answered the voice of a young girl on the phone.
"Excuse me?" asked Edward.
"Is this pick-up or delivery?"
"What do you mean by pick-up or delivery?" challenged Edward. "I don't know what that is. I'm just trying to understand what you mean by that; that's all."
There was a pause before the girl on the other end of the call carefully explained. "Are you going to pick up your order, or are you going to have it delivered?"
"Oh, now I understand!" exclaimed Edward. "See, I didn't know what you meant by that. I was just trying to understand what pick-up or delivery meant. Well, assuming we decide to order some pizza, I'll have it delivered."
"Okay... And what would you like."
"Well..." began Edward. "…my wife and I were talking about dinner, and what we should do. There were some suggestions made; maybe grill something outside, go out for dinner, pick up hamburgers, order some pizza. At this point it looks like we are leaning towards ordering some pizza. So do you make your crust there?"
"Excuse me?" asked the girl who was used to taking simple orders for pizza .
"Do you make your crust? Simple question, that's all. I'm just trying to understand how you make your pizza."
"Yes, we hand-make our crust from scratch and bake it."
"Okay, good! See, that's what I was asking. I was just trying to understand how you make your pizza's, that's all. So you probably have some kind of process put in place to make your pizza dough. You probably have a list of ingredients that you mix. And you probably use yeast which means the dough needs to sit out and rise. Am I correct?"
There was a long pause, "Yes..."
Okay, so how long do you leave it sit out?"
"Hang on a minute, sir. Let me get someone from the back kitchen to answer your questions."
Edward was placed on hold.
"Can you believe this?" Edward asked his wife. "I don't think she knows what she's doing over there. I ask a simple question on how they make the pizza dough, and she has to get someone from the back kitchen. You see what I mean? You're ordering from this place and the people might not even know how to make pizza."
Edward was soon taken off hold. "This is Bob. What can I do for you?"
"Well, hi, Bob! I hope I have someone who knows what they are doing over there. My wife and I were talking about ordering pizza, but I'm getting some second thoughts. I simply asked the girl how you go about making the pizza dough, and she couldn't answer. Do you make it from scratch over there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you use yeast? Does it have to rise?"
"Yes sir."
"And how long does it have to sit?"
"Usually about fifteen to twenty minutes." answered Bob.
"Okay... so you don't have your process measured down to an exact science. You give me some arbitrary range of fifteen to twenty minutes. You've opened the window to variation which means that one pizza crust probably isn't exactly the same as another. Now, do you measure the temperature in the room while making your dough?"
There was a long pause before Bob answered, "No, it's usually pretty hot in here from the ovens."
"Okay, so you don't make your pizza dough under a controlled environment to maintain consistency. That could be a problem. Already I see some things wrong with your process. What about the tomato sauce? Do you make it fresh, or is it from a can?"
"We use a pre-canned pizza sauce, sir."
"Okay, so you use sauce from a can. Right away that means that your pizzas aren't made from scratch. That is the definition of scratch, right? Scratch would imply that from the very least you would have purchased tomatoes from the store and made your sauce. But for consistency, you should have grown your tomatoes in a controlled environment to ensure that every tomato is exactly the same as the other so that you have a sauce with no variation in flavor.”
Edward heavily sighed before asking his next question. “How about the cheese? Is that pre-packaged?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where is it from?"
"It's delivered from a truck every week."
"That's not what I'm asking! I want to know where the cheese is made. See, I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but the water used in making mozzarella cheese can actually influence the taste. There are people who actually prefer mozzarella cheese imported from New York City because of the water that is used. It's a taste unlike any other mozzarella. So do you know where your cheese is made?"
"No, I never checked."
Edward slowly blew air through his lips and shook his head in disbelief. "I'm going to have to call you back. I'm not sure what we are going to do." And with that, Edward hung up the phone.
"See what I mean?" shouted Edward to his wife. "How long have you been ordering pizza from that place?"
Jill shrugged her shoulders. "A few years?"
"Is that just some arbitrary number? Don't you have something more exact?"
By now, Jill was on the verge of strangling her husband. What ever happened to him? He wasn't like this years ago. "Edward, you need to stop! You don't need to be talking to me like that! I don't appreciate having my intelligence insulted!"
"I'm not insulting your intelligence, Jill! I'm just saying! I just wanted to understand how they make their pizza at this... this... King Louis place that you order from. But no one could give me answers. You see what I mean? You see? I just don't know! I just don't know if they actually make pizza!"
With that, Edward stormed out of the house, presumingly on a walk to bring down his blood pressure.
It was a chance for Jill to finally order dinner. But her husband would soon be back for more arguing and hyper analyzing. And surely dinner would be unenjoyable with more discussions on whether or not people were doing the right things.

The End!

Friday, July 18, 2014


Hello All:
I managed to drag myself out of bed during the witching hour like I used to, and created this new short story for you. It's really good--in my opinion. It's scary, creepy and really bizarre. I hope you like it.
If you are a young woman looking for love; look no further. I bring you Pias the Gypsy. He used to work in the circus as a trepeze artist. He can tell fortunes with an ordinary deck of playing cards. And according to him; in his Gypsy culture, it isn't uncommon for older men to have romantic relationships with young teenage girls to teach them all the things they need to know to be good lovers.
Have a great weekend.
It wasn't even going to be an entire day's visit to her great Aunt Beatrice's home. Fifteen-year-old Melanie was dropped off by her parents that morning so they could take her brother to a nearby clinic for some medical tests. They promised to return some time in the late afternoon.
Although certainly looking and acting like any normal fifteen-year-old girl, Melanie secretly remains a young girl when not with her peers. She isn't that into boys just yet. Nor does she act out the role of fifteen going on twenty-five. Melanie is a kid, thank goodness. In fact, on this mid morning after eating breakfast, she was sorting through a collection of dolls that she used to play with when visiting her aunt; dressing them up in outfits and fixing their hair.
"There is a man coming here today, Melanie." announced Aunt Beatrice upon entering the room.
Melanie glanced up as her aunt spoke.
Aunt Beatrice is fifty-seven years old, and was sadly widowed over five years ago. Now ready for some close companionship of the opposite sex, she's learned about the wonderful thing called the Internet in which she can create a profile on a dating website and hook up with other men who are single and lonely.
"His name is Pias. He's actually coming here to see you! I've spoken about you and told him what an amazing and pretty girl you are. I told him that you are wiser and more grown up than some of the other girls your age."
"Okay..." acknowledged Melanie. Perhaps Aunt Beatrice had been dating this man for a while, and wished to introduce family—starting with Melanie. She could handle that.
"He's a Gypsy." continued Aunt Beatrice as Melanie resumed combing her doll's hair. "He grew up in a lifestyle that is different from ours. He told me that in his culture, it isn't uncommon for older men to have close friendships with girls like you. Gypsy men teach young girls all the things they need to know; turn them into women and teach them to be good lovers for when some day that they get married."
Melanie nearly dropped her doll upon the mention of being a good lover. For a moment it almost sounded like this man had intentions of pursuing a romantic relationship with her.
"Oh, now don't worry." reassured Aunt Beatrice. "Pias won't hurt you. He's a very, handsome man. He used to travel with the circus and work as a trapeze artist. His mother taught him how to read fortunes with cards. Maybe if you let him, he'll read your fortune."
"Maybe..." said Melanie with an uninterested smile. Unsure of how to interpret the current situation, Melanie resumed combing her dolls' hair.
Aunt Beatrice walked out of the room.
It was 12:30 in the afternoon as Melanie sat on the sofa in the family room and watched TV. In the kitchen, Aunt Beatrice prepared lunch and set the table. From Melanie's vantage point, she could see three place settings at the table; one for Melanie, one for Aunt Beatrice and one—presumably—for Pias the Gypsy. Apparently this was to be a lunch date in which Melanie would get acquainted with Pias. Thank goodness Melanie lived a good hour away from her crazy great Aunt, and that visits were not too common. The more she thought of this man coming to see her, the more uneasy she felt.
Suddenly there was a knock at the back door.
Aunt Beatrice briskly walked over to answer. "Well hello!"
"Hi!" loudly greeted the voice of man as his footsteps could be heard walking on the kitchen linoleum tile.
"I'm just getting lunch ready so we can all sit down." Then Aunt Beatrice called out, "Melanie, come in here! There's a man, here, to see you!"
Melanie sighed, stood up and reluctantly walked into the kitchen. Hopefully this visit would be quick and painless. Maybe Mother and Father would come back early and she could go home.
When finally in Melanie's view; Pias appeared to be an older man, definitely at the end of middle age with salt and pepper hair and a matching mustache. His skin was dark Roma olive-color that was beginning to leather and age a bit. And then there were his trademarked Gypsy eyes; those deeply set eyes that seem to long and hunger for something as if lost; maybe forever looking for a home or—perhaps—a lover to finally bring happiness; but never able to settle for one reason or another.
His loose and baggy clothes were an odd choice of color with designs that reminded Melanie of something that an Egyptian would wear.
"Hi, I'm Pias!" he greeted while smiling with a peculiar accent and extending his hand.
Being the proper young lady that everyone expected her to be, Melanie stuck out her hand and shook.
Pias maintained a prolonged hold on her hand while his Gypsy eyes burned deeply into hers. It was as-if he could read right through her. "Are you alright?" he asked upon finally releasing his grip.
"You look a bit flushed." Pias commented in return.
"You do!" agreed Aunt Beatrice. "Maybe there's too much excitement for you. Why don't you sit down at the kitchen table while I finish making lunch?"
Melanie did as suggested.
Pias sat down right across from her and proceeded to captivate her attention with Gypsy tales and the old fortune telling trick. "I worked for the circus most of my life as an acrobat and trapeze artist. But did you know that my mother taught me how to read cards and tell fortunes?"
Melanie shook her head, no.
"Would you like me to tell your fortune?"
Melanie shrugged her shoulders, "Sure..."
With that, Pias removed an ordinary deck of playing cards from his front pants pocket. "Now these aren't the famous Tarot cards that Gypsies usually use." Pias began. "But they have numbers; spades, hearts, clubs and diamonds; kings, queens, jacks, aces and jokers. I learned how to tell people's fortunes with these.
Pias shuffled the deck of cards and then lay them, face-down, before spreading them out. Then he removed three cards and studied them.
Without showing the cards to Melanie, Pias interpreted the fortune. "Uh-huh... It says that someone very special is about to, or already has, entered your life. This person will bring you much happiness. It's possible that it might be a romance."
Melanie returned a blank stare.
Aunt Beatrice chimed in, "Oh, I think I might know who Pias is referring to!" She winked at Pias and then they both smiled.
Melanie was growing all the more uncomfortable with Pias. Surely he wasn't suggesting that he was going to enter her life and give her romance! But for some reason, Aunt Beatrice seemed to imply this."
"Let me read another fortune for you." suggested Pias as he shuffled the cards and spread them on the table as before. He removed three cards and studied them without revealing them to Melanie. "It says that you are a young woman who is many years wiser and intelligent than your age. It says that you long for the love of an older man, and could never be happy with a boy your age."
"Hmmmm..." exclaimed Aunt Beatrice. "Very interesting!" Then she asked, "Pias, could you do a reading on me?"
"Of course!" He shuffled the deck and spread the cards out. Three cards were withdrawn from the pile and then mystically interpreted by Pias the Gypsy. "Now this one is interesting! It actually makes reference to a common bond between you and Melanie. It says that the two of you have an unquenchable desire for deep love and romance. You are forever searching for a man to satisfy your needs."
"This is true!" exclaimed Aunt Beatrice. And I will say that Melanie is so much like her Aunt Beatrice." She immediately went over to Melanie's seat and embraced her."
"Well why don't we eat?" announced Aunt Beatrice. She brought three bowls of tomato soup to the table and set them before Pias, Melanie and her own spot. Then she brought a platter of grilled cheese sandwiches over and set them at the center. "Let's eat!"
At some point during lunch, Pias continued his conversation with Melanie. "So... are you in high school?
"Yes..." answered Melanie.
"What year?"
"I'm a freshman."
"A freshman? And do you have a boyfriend?"
Pias nearly dropped his spoon in the bowl of soup and then stared at Melanie with a dumbfounded look. "You don't have a boyfriend? For such a beautiful, young woman; one would think that the boys would be after you. But maybe this proves the fortune that was read a few minutes ago. Maybe those boys are not mature enough to satisfy your needs."
Thoroughly convinced that Pias was hitting on her, and thoroughly fed up with his unwelcomed advances; Melanie sighed and shrugged her shoulders. How much longer would she have to endure this?
After lunch; Aunt Beatrice, Pias and Melanie sat in the family room and conversed some more. And wouldn't you know it? Pias sat down next to Melanie on the sofa. And he was slowly moving closer to her as the moments passed. For now, however, conversation was between him and Aunt Beatrice; world events and the way things used to be. He almost seemed normal.
Then Aunt Beatrice announced, "Well, I'm going to step out for a few minutes. I need to pick up some cleaning supplies. I won't be long. Pias, would you be comfortable staying here with Melanie while I'm gone? It'll only be a few minutes.”
"Of course I will! No problem!"
Melanie sat up in her seat and opened her mouth, but held back words. How could she voice it? She really did not trust Pias—much less like him. She did not want to be alone with him! After a few seconds she managed to say, "Aunt Beatrice I... I..."
"Oh, you'll be okay with Pias while I'm gone." reassured Aunt Beatrice. "Just relax and get to know him."
Pias lay his forearm across Melanie's thighs in a soft gesture to restrain her. "Don't worry; I don't bite."
And that was it. Aunt Beatrice walked out the front door and to her car where she entered the driver side, and backed out. Both Melanie and Pias watched through the window as Aunt Beatrice drove off.
Then Pias looked over to Melanie while smiling. "I almost forgot... I brought something for you. Let me go out to my car and get it."
He nearly dashed away and out of the house.
This might have been Melanie's chance to run and hide. There was no telling what this strange Gypsy would do to her. But, instead, she watched from the window as Pias removed about a dozen or so helium balloons from his car. They were of various colors—red, green, blue, yellow and such. They pulled at the ribbons while reaching for the sky. Pias looked through the window while walking towards the house and could see Melanie watching him. He gave her an eerie, creepy smile; and his Gypsy eyes had a power of instilling a strong sense of discomfort. What did he want? What was he going to do to Melanie?
Melanie backed away from the window with a sudden feeling of nausea, and then noticed she was also close to the door.
As she further backed up, Pias walked through the door with his bunch of multi-colored helium balloons. He continued to look at her with his eerie smile. And then, for the first time, she noticed that his eyes lit up; literally glowed and generated their own light.
The balloons began to rotate and orbit Pias' head. They bobbed up and down and mimicked the motion of a carousel. And then music could be heard; music that one would expect to hear while riding a carousel.
Pias smiled and laughed while the light continued to glow from his eyes. By now he nearly looked inhuman.
Round and round the carousel moved while the hypnotic music nearly drove Melanie mad. She was terrified for her life as Pias laughed and laughed with his wicked, glowing Gypsy eyes.
Melanie nearly screamed and sat up in bed! It was just a nightmare. Sitting next to her on the bedside table was a graphic slider bong with bowl-piece filled with the ashes of burned cannabis. 
And that’s the kind of shit you dream about when you go to bed stoned!

The End!

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Booby Juice

Hello All:
A few weeks ago I made mention of what I called the "8 hour sleep challenge". Since then I've made sure to get my 8 hours in every night. But now I'm thinking this isn't such a great thing.
Well, I no longer have much time to write! I have all these stories just pounding on the walls of my imagination and begging to get out for everyone to read. Years ago I would simply write whenever I had free time at work. But those days are long gone. I realize, now, why I was arising at the witching hour to write. It was the only time I had.
Aside from that, I'm beginning to notice an unfamiliar feeling of "crabbiness" that I've been doing my best to keep under control. This became evident to me the other day when I was stopped by one of those stupid left arrow lights that only turn green when a vehicle is sensed nearby. I raced up to the light while watching the traffic light cycle from crossing to oncoming pattern. But by the time I reached the light, I missed the target which meant there would be no green light for me. That's when I finally lost it.
"WHAT THE FUCK???? I HATE THESE FUCKING LIGHTS!!!!!" I continued to shout and swear for some time before realizing that I was acting very much unlike myself. I'm I getting too much sleep?
I'm still not sure what to do. I think my lack of writing time will force me to back to my original sleep deprivation schedule. There are no longer any Mapleview chapters being written or Cableman stories. But they flood and echo in my head, waiting to finally come out.
I'm not sure how I got into this discussion last night with my daughter, but I ended up telling her about this scene from Liar, Liar which starred Jim Carey. Check it out:

Booby Juice
The Cableman and Melissa aren't officially broken up [THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN BEFORE THEY BROKE UP SO ACTUALLY THEY ARE]. It's just that in recent times they aren't together as much. You see, sometimes the Earthly space brother and space sister awakening thing can get a bit overwhelming. It certainly has been for the Cableman, and he needs to take a break. But Melissa is really into her cosmic awakening, and has even been somewhat critical towards the Cableman in recent times. Since the Cableman's last visit to her home in which he stormed out after an argument, they now call each other on the phone every few days. But this usually ends up in a small argument before hanging up. In these times it's best to keep one's distance.
Tonight he reported to the local gym and did a grueling workout. Maybe it was just the thing to take his mind off Melissa. Then he went straight home where he immediately felt a voracious hunger.
"Man! My body needs some major protein or something! I actually feel like eating one of those iron plates at the gym!" The Cableman rummaged through his refrigerator and freezer. It looked like maybe he needed to go the store and stock up on more groceries. There were only a couple frozen Jack's pizzas and a Hungry Man fried chicken dinner in the freezer. In the refrigerator were nothing but seven bottles of beer, a half gallon of milk and some lunchmeat.
"I need something to eat!" exclaimed the Cableman while slamming the refrigerator door shut. "I need some protein!" And with that, the Cableman put on his steel-toed work boots and head out the door. His plan was go to the Kolesterol King for a triple cheese burger deluxe with all the works and a bag of Cajun French fries. The Cableman hopped into his cable truck and drove off.
Across town, Jan sat naked on a comfy chair in her family room with legs up on the matching ottoman. The lights were off, with only the Moon to dimly illuminate the room. She stroked and played with her beautiful, engorged breasts with wide areolas. It was, once again, time to express milk. No, she wasn't pregnant or nursing. Jan didn't even have children. Rather, she was exploring the pleasure of erotic lactation, and thoroughly enjoyed her new hobby. For a woman who isn't a mother, one might think that lactation isn't possible. But really it is! Simply take doses of the necessary hormones to trigger the production of milk, and begin pumping the breasts. Once production is consistent, discontinue the doses of hormones and continue pumping the breasts. Although it might sound strange, some women find the sensation of milk leaking out of the breasts to be pleasurable and arousing.
"I want someone to suck them." whispered Jan. For weeks she had been squeezing her breasts and spraying milk all over her naked body. When needed, she would use the breast pump to express the remains. She even tasted it and found that it wasn't all that bad. Surely there was a man out there who would enjoy sucking her engorged breasts and drinking her milk.
Jan continued to squeeze her breasts which finally sprayed a bit of milk. "Who can I have suck them?" She glanced over to the side table where the telephone sat. On it was a sticker with the cable company's service number. Maybe she could have a cable man come over and drink the milk out of her breasts.
Jan dialed the number and waited. "Yes, hi! I'm having trouble with my cable..."
The Cableman sat at the Kolesterol King and finished his triple cheeseburger with fries. But even though his hunger was satisfied, his body needed something more. It was then that he received a phone call.
"This is the Cableman. How can I help you? Uh-huh... uh-huh... Okay, I'll get right over there." It was an evening troubleshooting call for a customer who could not receive cable. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long, as the Cableman was tired and wanted to go to bed. He stood up and quickly threw out the empty wrappers from dinner before dashing out the cable truck, where he flipped on the flashing yellow strobe light and peeled off. A customer who cannot receive cable service is nothing to take lightly.
But what was this? After arriving at Jan's house and ringing her door bell, the Cableman was startled to see a naked woman with beautiful, engorged breasts answer.
"Hi there!" greeted Jan "You look like you've had a long, hard day." Milk started to leak from both nipples and down her breasts. "Maybe you need something really good to drink to feel better." Jan squeezed both of her breasts and sprayed milk in the Cableman's face.
At first the Cableman was outraged and annoyed. Was this lady crazy? Who shoots a stranger with their own breast milk? But considering how gorgeous Jan looked along with the offer to suck her breasts and drink her milk, the Cableman was suddenly grew interested.
"Sure..." answered the Cableman. I could certainly use... umm… something..."
"Come on it!" invited Jill. She closed the door once the Cableman was inside. "Want to lay on the sofa, naked, with me?"
The evening was continuing to get all the more stranger. "Umm... sure, okay." The Cableman removed his steel-toed work boots, leather tool belt; and then unbuttoned his shirt. As he undressed, milk continued to leak from Jan's engorged breasts. They were just begging to be sucked by the Cableman!
Once the Cableman was fully naked with his chiseled pectorals, sculpted biceps and near 6-pack abdomen—not to mention smooth, apple-shaped ass; Jan guided him over to the sofa and sat down with her legs stretched over to the other side. "Come; lay down on my lap so that you are lying on your back."
The Cableman did as invited so that his head touched Jan's abdomen and leaking breasts.
Jan gently tilted the Cableman's head up so that his lips were directly under one of the nipples. Instinctively, he opened his mouth and tasted the dripping milk. It didn't exactly taste like an after dinner drink, and was most likely something one would need to get an acquired taste for. But the Cableman was about to take a crash course.
"Go ahead, Baby..." encouraged Jan. "Drink..."
The Cableman sucked with his mouth and drew the human breast milk in. He swallowed and felt a peculiar nurturing effect from Jan's milk. Feeling so relaxed and at ease, he held the breast with both hands and continued to gently drink with eyes closed.
It was all so pleasurable for Jan. Finally, there was a man sucking her breast and drinking the milk she was proud to produce. It was nearly orgasmic as she took deep breaths in and out. She could cum this way if the experienced lasted long enough. And while the Cableman lay there in nurturing ecstasy from the milk of her wonderful breast, Jan took hold of her free breast and expressed milk all over the Cableman's chest and stomach.
"You like that?" asked Jan. "It looks so beautiful all over you." Jan tickled and rubbed the Cableman's chest, then fondled and squeezed his nipples. This was special nipple time between Jan and the Cableman.
Then she looked down towards the Cableman's crotch and was surprised to see that he had an erection. "What's this?" asked Jan. She reached down and gently played with his cock as milk continued to be sucked from her breast. Into the evening hours, the Cableman lay in breast-sucking ecstasy as the peaceful Moonlight shined through the windows. Every man wishes to suck beautiful breasts and drink the wonderful milk from a woman.
"There..." Jan continued to reassure the Cableman. "You can come over and drink my milk anytime.”