Even with his ancient eye-sight, he could see the three boys, his grandson’s, as they crossed the flat below his hillside perch. The youngest, as was usual, was trailing behind the other two.

Behind the old man was a sheep flock, guarded by two large dogs. He scanned them, then set about preparing the three meals for the boys.

“Got a big-ears, Grandser,” the eldest said as he dropped the jackrabbit on the ground.

“Looks good,” Grandser, their name for their Grandfather, answered.

“I only got a stupid groundhog,” the middle grandchild complained, “He’s so noisy.”

He was speaking of the youngest grandboy, seven or 8. The two boys sat down and began eating before their brother made it into camp.

“See what I found?” the youngest said, holding up a faded and nearly rotted piece of paper.

Grandser held his hand out. It was an old advertisement insert from a newspaper. He examined it and knew it must go into his treasury, a cave where he kept things of the past.

“So what is it?” the boy asked.

“It’s ads for food from a grocery store,” he answered.

“A grocery store?” the child questioned.

The older of the two boys made a disapproving sound with his teeth before saying, “Now you done it. He’s gonna be talking about weird old things all day long. Great!”

Grandser smiled at the eldest boy as he looked at the prize his youngest had brought him. Finally, he found what he was looking for, below ‘$4.99 a pound for New York Steak,’ the date, January 29, 2021.

“Eat up, boy!” he said to the youngster standing before him.

It was a beautiful day, sunny, with a few high clouds and no wind. Social elites, movie and television stars, politicians, and sports figures gathered for this first-ever televised event of its kind.

“And here they come,” the announcer stated over the public address system as the racing gates moved up to the starting line for the beginning of the first showing.

The crowd cheered at the sound of the bugle call, alerting spectators to the start of the race.

The bell rang, and the announcer shouted, “They’re off.”

Within seconds, eleven adult racing tyrannosauri’ tore through the terrified crowd.

The four pods slipped through Earth’s atmosphere. Three landed without a problem, while the fourth tumbled wildly, killing its single male occupant.

Of the other three, while safe, one had dropped far from the other two. That capsule held a female, who upon exiting her craft, found herself alone.

For nearly a year, she searched to find another survivor without success. Then one morning, she discovered the debris field and the site of the fatal crash.

Hopeless, she ran through the woods, ignoring all possible dangers. Without warning, she found herself attacked from behind.

Quickly, she pulled her survival knife and slashed at her attacker, who howled in pain, jumping off of her. It was one of the group of four she had come with, the other man.

She needed only to look at him to convey her question.

Still holding his bloodied rib cage, the man pointed at a camouflaged pod. She rushed over and banged on the door.

Slowly, the other woman slid the door aside and stepped out, holding a baby. She smiled.

The two looked at each other, then hugged. It was the first real contact the first one had felt since leaving her red planet.

Chatting with the Big Guy a while ago, I asked Him if I could ask a question.

“You know you can,” He said, “so shoot.”

I had to slow my breathing down as I found myself excited before asking, “Why do You have me writing about what I’m writing about?”

“You mean, opposed to writing about politics and such?” He countered.

“Yeah,” I said, “it’s like I suddenly had to change directions again.”

“It’s not like – it is that I had you change directions,” he stated. “I had you educating before. Now you’re pointing out the ramifications of not learning.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “Saw a bumper sticker that read, ‘Veterinarians drive like animals.’ Suddenly, I understand why there are so many proctologists on the road.”

She took pictures of the inside through the front window, planning to send them to her brother in another state. After several tries, Micky gave up, settling for a simple exterior shot and an address.

“He’ll have to look it up online himself,” she said.

The next day as Micky sat at her kitchen table, she remembered her cellphone and the many frames of nothing she’d managed to take of the house’s interior. Intending to delete them, she screamed when she found that one of the pictures wasn’t blank at all, and the eye in the photograph –blinked at her.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Never scream into a colander, you’ll strain your voice.”

As I thread my way through my old photographic files, every once in a while I find myself seeing something I didn’t see before…

The army of the Kaiser and the Furher lives on, but not in Germany. The Chilean Army still uses the uniforms, traditions, weapons, and marching music of 19th century Prussia as well as that of the Wehrmacht WWII era.

A touch frightening, I will admit…

https://soundcloud.com/nowhere_nevada/mesmorized

The State blocked his only window. They covered every window on that side of the gray high rise so that no one could see the stylish gathering on the other side of the street.

But it didn’t stop Lucas from peeking. After, he found himself wishing that he hadn’t because what he saw angered him.

For years the State had been sucking Earth dry of its primary colors after finding a way to produce energy from color, then taxing citizens for that production. Now, Lucas wondered why corporate heads, politicians, and celebrities were allowed to ‘colorize’ while he lived colorless.