Author Archives: bookshelfbattle

Feb 07 2016
9 Comments
Tomfoolery

BQB Calls the Super Bowl

Hey 3.5 readers.

Good news. I was hired to provide the play by play for the Super Bowl.  Yes, the NFL wanted to save some money so they hired a nerd who knows nothing about sports.

Here goes nothing.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen welcome to Super Bowl 50.  That’s right.  The only sports contest thats too old to hang out in the club, but not old enough for an AARP card.

I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler and I don’t know a damn thing about sports, but I was happy to take this job in exchange for $50 and an autographed picture of some football guy whoever the hell he is I don’t know they all look the same to me.  The signature looks real though so I’ll probably sell it on ebay.

And the sporting contest has begun!  Yes!  Two teams of large men, each from different geographic locations have met on the gridiron and you, the viewer at home, will be called upon to cheer for the team closest to your geographic location or else be considered a smelly communist.  Yes, that’s right, if you watch anything else but this sporting contest tonight you’re an automatic a-hole.

And the ball has been kicked!  Yes the ball has been kicked!  And now men are fighting for control of the ball!

Yes and…oh my God!  Oh my God!  One of the men has the ball and he’s running toward the opposing team’s side of the field.  That’s right folks!  If he gets the ball all the way across the opposing team’s side of the field then it’s a goal for the team of the man running with the ball.

Mother of God the man with the ball has been tackled to the ground!  He’s not running with the ball anymore.  Yes, this is quite a sporting contest and all kinds of sporty shit is happening.

By the way, I’d like to take a moment to thank our sponsor, Cheesy Munch Chips.  That’s right.  While all of you fat, middle aged people sit on the couch and live out your NFL fantasies, flagellating yourselves over what you could have done better when you played for your high school team a million years ago, be sure to numb the pain by tossing a sack full of Cheesey Munch Chips down your gullet.

And back to the action.  There seems to be quite a scramble for the ball.  Possession of the ball, by the way, is very important because whichever team controls the ball has the ability to score a point and as you’re all aware, the team with the highest number of points at the end of the game wins and the team with the least amount of points will be treated like pathetic losers and will have to go home to their mansions and cry on their piles of money to comfort themselves.

Who has the ball now?  Yes it is…that guy!  That guy that everyone likes!  He’s in that funny commercial.  Whoa!  But he just passed it to that guy that was caught on tape punching his girlfriend’s lights out.  Yes, he was suspended for an entire fortnight.  That’ll teach ’em.

Sweet Jesus, and now that guy has passed it to that guy who was arrested after the gun fell out of his sweat pants in the night club.  Holy Shit, why can’t all of these athletic one percenters handle their shit?

And the ball’s getting closer and closer and….huzzah!  That team scored a point!

Ladies and gentlemen, such a rousing game.  I’m so excited.  I hope all you fat bastards at home are having a good time shoving chicken wings into your face holes and trying to feel better about not making the varsity cut when the first George Bush was president.

Now it’s time for the halftime show.

Wow!  It’s that Hot Pop Star Chick with Enormous Boobs!  She’s singing a catchy song that you’re all going to download immediately, hum in the back of your head for three months, and then forget all about it when the Next Hot Pop Star Chick with Enormous Boobs comes along.

Wait a minute.  What?! It’s not enough to have a Hot Pop Star Chick with Enormous Boobs!  That’s right, they’ve rigged the Hot Pop Star Chick with Enormous Boobs up to a crane and an elaborate system of ropes and pullies to make it seem as though she’s flying through the air like Peter Pan.

Yes, nothing says “America loves its musical talent” like forcing them to put their lives in danger just to provide us with a few minutes of entertainment.  God Bless you, Hot Pop Star Chick with Enormous Boobs.

Holy Smokes!  And now Controversial Rapper is here to provide a rap version of Hot Pop Star Chick’s song.  OH MY GOD! And now Country Band is here to countrify the shit out of this routine.

Yes, this is America and everyone has to be happy with everything!  Good God now there’s some glorious fireworks!  Whoa!  Watch out Hot Pop Star Chick, one of those whizzed right past you while you’re being held by wires at a ridiculously high altitude for America’s viewing pleasure.

What’s really amazing to me is that all of these stars are performing this number on an elaborate stage that totally moves around and shit.  It’s not like that’s a death trap waiting to happen or anything.

Hey, the commercials are on!  Howsabout these commercials, ladies and gentlemen?

Folks, I’m like you in that I’m on a budget and when I’m forced to make a decision, I always come down on the side of the brand with a hilarious talking cartoon animal, or a dumb guy that does dumb things to get a product, or stops doing dumb things once he gets the product, or a product that looks good when its held by Celebrity Hot Chick with Enormous Boobs.

Back to the big game.  Close up on some celebrities in attendance.  Yes, they’re just like you and me.  They love sports and they get to attend in person because they can afford the astronomical price for tickets while the rest of us sit on the couch and wished we lived like them.

And…points have been scored!  Repeat points have been scored!

This is so tense.  It really is.  Let’s get a close up of the coach barking orders at the players.

You know a lot of people ask me, “What’s the difference between the coach and the players?” and I always tell them, “The players try to score points while the coach tells them the best way to score the aforementioned points.”

Very subtle.  A lot of nuance I know.  But right now we can see the coach telling a player how to score points.  We don’t have a microphone on the coach so we can’t listen in but I can read lips so here’s what I believe is being said:

COACH:  I thought I told you to score some points!

PLAYER: I’m sorry, Coach.  I really tried to score some points.

COACH:  You need to try harder to score some points!  That thing you did before, that’s never going to score you any points!  But if you do this thing I’m telling you now, then you’ll score a lot of points!  Understand?

PLAYER:  Yes sir!

COACH:  Good! Now get out there and score us some points!

Holy Crap I was moved by that.

Points, points, so many points being scored by each side now.  And there’s a tie! Yes, each team has an equal amount of points.

Now, I’m no mathematical genius but I’d say that’s a problem.  Really, just on a statistical basis, a team with the most points is most likely to win and the team with the least amount of points is most likely to lose.  If I were a professional football player, I’d definitely want to be on the team that scores the most points.

We can see on the clock that there isn’t much time left so it all amounts to this one kick…and…the kicker is going to kick the ball and OH MY GOD!  THE KICKER KICKED THE BALL AND SCORED THE WINNING POINT!

What a game.  Half of the country is thrilled that the team closest to their geographic region has won.  It makes them feel like they did something by sitting on their fat asses for three hours instead of doing something productive like getting on the damn stair master or looking for a job.

Alas, the other half of the country is depressed that the team closest to their geographic team has lost.  They’ll blame it all on that one player who should have tried a little harder to score some more points.

What’s wrong with that guy?  Doesn’t he know he’s supposed to score points?

This has been BQB, reporting live from the Super Bowl.  Now stay tuned for an incredibly shitty show with beautiful people who pretend like their lives are horrible and tell jokes that aren’t funny and no one on the show is relatable to the average bloated ugly American slob.

It’ll be off the air in three months, but someone at the network really believed in it so he/she put it on after the Super Bowl in a desperate effort to ram it down everyone’s throats.

Enjoy!

Tagged , , , , , ,
Feb 06 2016
5 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Do We Like Joe?

shutterstock_320226569

Do we like Joe?

I like him but I mean this is Slade’s jam and there can’t be two heroes, right?

Yet I’m  picturing a scene where a cowboy rides a werewolf instead of a horse.  Joe’s an upright walking werewolf, the traditional kind vs the new kind where a guy just turns into an actual wolf.

But I picture upright walking werewolves running on all fours, sort of in a gallop when they want to go fast.

A cowboy riding piggyback on a werewolf walking on two feet would just be ridiculous.

Together they chase after the bad guy who’s getting away.

I’m pretty sure someone will say its racist for a cowboy to ride a black guy that turns into a werewolf but I mean, it’d be like they’re working together with a common goal to fight evil.

What do you think?  You like him and want to keep him?  He’s adding too much to the storyline and nix him?

Thoughts for the future:  If people like this enough to merit a sequel, I’m not entirely sure the next book would be about Slade.  He’s fun to write but I’m not sure how much I can do with a guy that doesn’t talk.

So who knows Joe could have his own book.  I have a few cowboy types in mind that could be fighting zombies.

My purpose for Joe was that he had a run in with the villain (Blythe) in the past and now he can tell Slade what Blythe is all about.

The other option is that Blythe just blurts out his master plan like an idiot.

But now my worry is when the zombies come, I mean, shit, Slade has a werewolf friend who’ll just slash up all the zombies and this is a Zombie Western.  You want cowboys shooting up zombies don’t you?

Oh God writing is so hard.  The things you have to think about.

Input please, 3.5 readers.

Tagged , , , , ,
Feb 06 2016
4 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 25

shutterstock_320226569

After the courtroom cleared out, Slade confronted Sampson.

“What the hell are you doing?” Slade asked, his voice raspier than ever.

“Marshal, I hate this as much as you do but the Governor has the right to issue pardons and once he does there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Take it up with him.”

Slade, man of action that he was, ripped the star off his shirt, slammed it down on the Judge’s bench, and stormed out of the courtroom.

“Slade!” the Judge called after him. “Don’t be ridiculous! This town needs you!!!”

Gunther’s stomach churned. The idea of leaving a job he held most of his life was unsettling, as was the idea of being disloyal to Slade.

“I don’t reckon there’s some kind of generous retirement payment for a man who’s held the position of Deputy Marshal for over forty years, is there?”

“Not that I know of,” the Judge replied.

“I figured as much,” Gunther said as he tugged at his star. “Oh well, here’s mud in your eye.”

Gunther tugged and tugged but the star wouldn’t budge.

“Deputy,” Sampson said. “I don’t have all day.”

“Now hold your horses,” Gunther said as he continued to fumble around, “I don’t want to rip my vest. My wife made this for me…ah…here we go.”

Gunther slammed his star down next to Slade’s.

“Gunther, don’t do this,” Sampson said. “You could take Slade’s place and become the Marshal yourself.”

“What?” Gunther asked. “And be the man who has to make all the decisions and be responsible for everything? No thank you. I’d rather be hung upside down by my toes and beaten with a wet noodle.”

“What will you do now?” Sampson asked.

“I don’t know,” Gunther said. “Get even older and die I guess.”

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Feb 06 2016
6 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 24

shutterstock_320226569

 

From the moment Blythe walked into the courtroom, Joe felt the beast surge within him. Under his shirt, he felt his chest hair grow. His fingernails started to jut out. But he took a deep breath and held his alternate form at bay.

He and Blythe had met before. Joe positioned himself outside the door and grabbed the counselor’s arm as he walked out into the hallway.

Hewett and Becker drew their weapons instantly. Joe released his grip.

“Joseph!” Blythe said. “So lovely to see you again.”

“We have unfinished business.”

“Do we?” Blythe asked. “My, my. You never learned your lesson, did you?”

Blythe patted his hand against Joe’s cheek. “So much sorrow written all over your face. Such a pathetic inability to let trivial matters go. How dreadfully unkind time has been to you.”

“I will end you,” Joe said. “The biggest mistake you ever made was not killing me.”

“You know that’s not my way, Joseph,” Blythe said. “If I kill my underlings, how will they ever learn?”

A brief staredown.

“How’s that son of yours?” Blythe asked. “Goodness, he must be a strapping young man now.”

A guttural growl poured out of Joe’s mouth. Growls followed from Hewett and Becker.

Blythe released Joe’s throat. His agents holstered their weapons.

“To be continued I suspect,” Blythe said as he and his men left the building.

Joe breathed heavily in order to bring himself under control.

Out came Gunther. “Can you believe this horse shit? Help me unchain these assholes, will ya’? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Tagged , , , , , , , ,
Feb 06 2016
4 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 23

shutterstock_320226569

Judge Sampson was not a man to be trifled with.

“The Legion Corporation? This case has nothing to do with your company!”

Blythe had a prominent Southern accent.  So flamboyant was his drawl that it was almost as if he spent a lot of time working on it. The only thing he was missing was the mint julep.

“Your honor, may it please the court…”

“It does not please the court!” the Judge shouted. “The court is very displeased!”

The doors opened again and two men entered.

“Now who are these two peckerwoods?” the Judge so astutely inquired.

“Apologies,” Blythe said. “Where are my manners?”

The counselor pointed to his left, toward a man with a high widow’s peak, a square jaw and a stern face.

“This is Mr. Dalton Hewett.”

Blythe shifted his attention to his right, toward a man with short brown hair and a handlebar mustache.  This man looked as though he might have been handsome once, until his nose was broken and reset one too many times.

“And this is Mr. Travis Becker. They’re my security agents, your honor. Professionals trained in the art of gunslinging and paid to safeguard my person from all the dangers the world has to offer.  Coincidentally, Judge, security is what I’ve come to talk to you about today.”

“How’s that?” Sampson asked.

“This is all just a big misunderstanding, your honor,” Blythe said. “Mr. Buchanan and his bundle of hayseeds have recently been hired as security agents of the Legion Corporation”

“We have?!” Jack asked.

Blythe slapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder, then knelt down to whisper in the defendant’s ear.

“Do you want to get off the hook and make a few bucks?” Blythe asked.

“Hell yeah!” Jack said.

“Then shut up.”

“Bullshit,” Sampson said.  “I don’t know what your angle is, counselor, but I know bullshit when I smell it and I’m fixing to pull up my boots.”

“It’s all perfectly legitimate, Judge,” Blythe said as he popped open a briefcase and handed a stack of papers to Hewett, who in turn walked them over to Sampson. “You’ll find all the necessary documentation right there.  These men were hired a month ago and were ordered to report to Highwater last week to assist in safeguarding the operations of the Legion Line.”

Sampson studied the paperwork. “Why should I give a shit?”

“Because, your honor, as you’re well aware, Highwater Station is the last stop on our transcontinental express before it crosses the Mississippi River by way of the Sturtevant Bridge.  Back East, demand is higher than ever for the minerals, resources, and raw materials that the West provides in abundance and we can’t allow this precious cargo to be shipped without protection from Injuns and bandits can we?  That’s why the board of directors of the Legion Corporation have enlisted me to oversee this important hub of activity and my very first act was to hire these upstanding citizens.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Sampson said. “As much as you snooty city folk like to pretend like the whole world revolves around you, your employees are not afforded a free pass for criminal misconduct.”

“I should say not, your honor,” Blythe said. “Tell me, what is the immediate allegation that led to these men becoming embroiled in such hot water?”

“An attempted attack on Highwater,” Sampson said.

“Come now, Judge,” Blythe said. “Is an attempt really a crime?”

“That’s what I said!” Jack shouted.

Blythe carried on. “Was anyone hurt? Injured? Maimed? Was anything stolen? It seems to me that all that happened was that these fine, upstanding men showed up for work and were mistaken for common thugs.”

“They are common thugs!” Sampson hollered. “I could throw out the Highwater charges and there’d still be enough to hang ’em high for any one of the crimes they committed across the country!”

Jack raised his finger to make a point. “Clarification, your honor. Armadillo molestation isn’t a hanging offense in Texas. Usually, the sheriff just lets you off with a warning as long as you put the armadillo back where you found him.”

“YOU! SHUT UP!” Sampson screamed. “Counselor, these men have been accused of one long crime spree that’s gone on for years.”

“I see,” Blythe said. “And where are the witnesses?”

“The what?” Sampson asked.

“The witnesses,” Blythe said. “The people who were allegedly harmed.  Why are they not here to take the stand and profess to the injuries they claim to have suffered at the hands of the Buchanans?”

“They’re all dead,” Sampson said.

Blythe stretched his arms out and said, Rather convenient, isn’t it? Now your honor, I may be just a simple country lawyer, but during my copious study of jurisprudence, I determined that the accused has a right to face his accusers.”

Slade raised his hand and was acknowledged by the Judge. The Marshal despised public speaking as much as he did private, but he forced himself. “These boys have been attacking the Injun lands outside town for awhile now.”

“Really, your honor?” Blythe asked. “Is that where we are now? Secondhand heresay based on the word of heathen savages?”

Without a gavel, Sampson pounded his fist down on his desk. “I’ve heard enough. Counselor, your motion is denied. The verdict stands. Get the f%$k out.”

Blythe rifled through his briefcase.  “Silly me, I almost forgot I have one more thing to show you, your honor. Governor Montgomery has issued a fall pardon to every last Buchanan for these so-called crimes.”

“Bullshit,” Sampson said.

B”It took some doing,” Blythe said. “But our dear Governor was so moved by the plight of these noble, downtrodden men that he felt compelled to intervene.”

The counselor approached the bench and handed a single, blank sheet of paper to the Judge.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Sampson asked.

With his back turned to the room, Blythe’s eyes turned a dark glowing red.  Sampson couldn’t help but stare at them. He found them so…alluring.

“No your honor,” Blythe said. “As you can see, everything is in order and these men are free to go.”

Blythe’s eyes returned to their regular blue. Sampson cleared his throat.

“I can’t believe that Governor Montgomery would exercise his power in such a reckless manner,” the Judge said. “But everything is in order. These men are free to go.”

The outraged citizenry who showed up hurled every insult they could think of at the Judge.

“My hands are tied! A pardon from the Governor trumps all!  The verdict is vacated! Case dismissed!”

 

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,
Feb 05 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was ZOMBED – Chapter 22

shutterstock_320226569
The courtroom buzzed as the Right Honorable Mortdecai Sampson took his seat. Bald with the exception of the white hair that grew out of his ears like unruly haystacks. Ugly teeth. A perpetually angry face. And a pair of wire rimmed spectacles he was always using to look down over his crooked nose at people with.

The Judge slammed his gavel down with enough force to crack a walnut. “ORDER!”

Everyone went silent. Smelly Jack sat at a small table, to which he was chained. His brother-cousins took up most of the seats. Slade and Gunther stood watch toward the front of the room. Joe and Knox were on either side. As usual, the younger Knoxes were in the back.

“Smelly Jack Buchanan…”

“HANDSOME JACK!”

Sampson pointed his gavel at the defendant. “SHUT UP! Smelly Jack Buchanan, you and your inbred family stand accused of committing a litany of heinous deeds all across the Western states and territories.”

Jack held his hat over his heart. “Lies your honor. We’re being framed and persecuted on account of us being poor illiterates.”

Sampson read from a document. “Murder. Rape. Arson. Theft. Property Damage. Am I reading this right? You shit bags pillaged and burned down eleven cities between New Mexico and Missouri?”

“Case of mistaken identity,” Jack said. “There’s another handsome shit bag out there that you’ve confused me with.”

“Shot a barber because he didn’t cut your hair straight. Shot a cook because he didn’t fix your dinner right. Shot a man because he looked at you funny…”

“I like to help people better themselves,” Jack said.

“Robbed twenty-three banks. Shot fourteen Sheriffs, seven U.S. Marshalls, and you and your boys are suspected in the disappearance of twelve more officers of the law…”

“They’re probably in the last place you’d thing of looking for them,” Jack quipped.

“What the hell is this about molesting an armadillo outside Houston?”

Jack coughed. “Your honor, that armadillo came on to me…”

“And finally, the attempted attack on Highwater, the crime that finally did you boys in.”

“Judge, is it really a crime to attempt something?” Jack asked. “Piss or get off the pot my beloved Ma used to say.”

Gavel slap. “SHUT UP! Do you have anything to say for yourself before I render a just and unbiased verdict, you stupid asshole?”

“Your honor,” Jack said. “I do believe the Greek philosophizer Soc-ro-tees once said, ‘Hickory dickory dock…suck my big ole…”

Sampson smashed his gavel down. “ENOUGH! Smelly Jack Buchanan. You and your brothers, and your cousins, and your brother-cousins and whatever else are by far the most putrid, vile, disgusting sacks of buffalo shit I’ve ever seen in my entire life. You’re not even good enough to be buffalo shit. You are the mold that grows on the fungus that grows on a steamy pile of buffalo shit after its sat out in the hot sun for three days and then a pig walks by and takes a shit on that shit…”

“It’s not our fault, Judge. Pa used to beat us somethin’ awful so now none of us are responsible for anything we do.”

The Judge banged his gavel so hard it broke in half, sending the hammer part flying across the room.

“Buchanans, on behalf of all the lives you cut short, and on behalf of all the people you’ve caused suffering too, I find you GUILTY!  And furthermore, it is my pleasure to sentence you all to….DEATH…BY HANGING!”

Jack made a motion like he was jerking himself off. “Whatever.”

The courtroom doors swung open. Everyone craned their necks to see who dared disturb Judge Sampson’s sentencing.

In walked a stranger. He was slender and handsome. Not ruggedly handsome but a womanly, pretty kind of handsome. He was dressed as though he were a customer to the finest tailors in the world.  He wore a black suit to match his black hair. Hanging over his necktie was a bright, shiny gold medallion.

“Your honor, pardon my interruption. Henry Allan Blythe and on behalf of the Legion Corporation, I move to set aside that verdict.”

Tagged , , , , , ,
Feb 05 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was ZOMBED – Chapter 21

shutterstock_320226569

A full week had passed since the capture of Smelly Jack and his villainous brood.  Rifle in hand, Slade led the processional. The town’s nosey citizens poured out of their shops and homes to watch the chained up criminals march toward the courthouse.

Knox took the left flank.  Gunther and Joe took the right.  The young Knoxes brought up the rear.

Jack was performing for the crowd.  “What a crying shame that an innocent man and his kin get railroaded just for passin’ through town!”

An old lady pelt him in the head with a rotten tomato.  He laughed it off.

“You people aint much on hospitality, I’ll tell you that!”

Swears, insults, obscene gestures and all kinds of abuse were heaped on the Buchanan Boys.  Jack reveled in it.  He even broke out into song.

“Nobody knows…the trouble I seen!  Nobody knows…my sorrow!”

Jack eyeballed Joe.  “Hey boy!  BOY!  That’s that song you people would sing whenever the mass gave you a good whuppin?”

Joe was too classy to respond.

“Swing low…sweet chariot…comin’ for to carry me home!  Oh the massa whupped my balls good and now I swing low….”

“That’s enough,” Gunther said.

“HEY MARSHAL!” Jack shouted.

Slade just kept on walking.

“Marshal! Aint it enough to run a man up the river on false accusations?!  You gotta have me watched by a dirty nig…”

Gunther stuck his foot in front of Jack’s, tripping the bigmouth up and launching him into the ground face first, taking a few of his brother-cousins with him.

“Damn Jack,” Gunther said with a wink to Joe.  “Better watch your step.”

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
Feb 05 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was ZOMBED – Part 2 – Werewolves and Women

Smelly Jack and the Buchanan Boys have been captured and now our hero, US Marshal Rainier Slade, has to wait a week until the arrival of Judge Sampson.

In the meantime, a love triangle blooms.  Scandalous brothel madame Miss Bonnie is the only woman Slade can be himself around but…the bible thumping Widow Farquhar is there.

Never underestimate the power a woman who is there has on a lonely man.

Plus, there are some damn werewolves.

shutterstock_320226569

Chapter 7         Chapter 8        Chapter 9

Chapter 10        Chapter 11       Chapter 12  

Chapter 13        Chapter 14       Chapter 15

Chapter 16      Chapter 17         Chapter 18

Chapter 19      Chapter 20

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,
Feb 05 2016
Leave a comment
Zombie Western

Zombie Western – 2 Parts Down

shutterstock_225100087 copy

Well this is a first.  I just finished the second part of How the West Was ZOMBED.

Amazing.  Two actual parts.

Special thanks to everyone who’s been offering advice on how to make this better. Please keep it coming.  I’m learning a lot from all of you.

I may not add the revisions right away.  I’m currently doing a first draft and just working on getting the story out but will work them into the second draft.

Thank you 3.5 readers. You’re the best.

Tagged , ,
Feb 05 2016
4 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 20

shutterstock_320226569

Midnight.  The criminals snored and shifted in their seats.  Smelly Jack was having a difficult time drifting off seeing as how he was chained to two of his brother-cousins.  Slade and Gunther were outside on the porch.  The oldest Knox was fast asleep.  The two younger Knoxes were locked in a heated debate about whether or not Jesse James was an outlaw or a hero.

Joe walked to the pulpit, which Miles was using as a desk to draw his latest masterpiece.

“Are we leaving?” the boy asked.

Joe answered his son’s question with a question. “I’m that obvious?”

“I can smell your fear,” Miles replied without looking up.  This time he was working on a pirate ship, complete with sails, masts, cannons, and little pirates on deck.

“You don’t smell so brave either,” Joe said.  “I don’t know anyone who could at a time like this.”

“Should we go now or in the morning?” Miles asked.

“Neither,” Joe answered.  “I gave my word I’d help watch these men until their trial and a man’s only as good as his word.  As soon as that’s over, we’ll be moving on.”

“That’s too bad,” Miles said. “The people are nice.”

“I reckon,” Joe said.

“Mr. Beauregard’s funny,” Miles said. “The Marshal doesn’t talk much. Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” Joe said. “Maybe his mother taught him that if he can’t think of something nice to say about someone then he shouldn’t say anything at all.  He probably met too many people who fit the bill.”

“Where will we go?” Miles asked.

“Thought about down Mehico way but I hate the heat.  Canada will suit us fine.”

Miles looked up from his artwork.  “Pa, shouldn’t we just outright tell them?”

Joe chuckled. “Son, people talk a good game about ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night but seeing is believing.  Unfortunately for most folk, by the time they see it and believe it, it’s already too late.”

“What do you think the Legion is up to?” Miles asked.

“No good.”

“Duh,” Miles said. “But what?”

“No clue.  But it’s big.  Bigger than anything they’ve ever tried before.”

“Shouldn’t we help?” Miles asked.

“No,” Joe said. “We’ve done our part.  And we’ve already lost too much.”

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →