Posts
The big house was quiet at night. All the windows were shut real tight. Don't wanna waste no air conditioning. Everybody was sleepin', even the two 'kit-kat' maids (excuse me. that was uncalled for), I do know better. They are Tuva-Tuva , native Martians. Look, just peek back at yesterday's post. It explains the whole thing. Scroll down. You'll see it.
But Miss Sissie was different. She did not require much sleep. Her nervous system couldn't accommodate it. So after Hobart (you know, the Old Man) bounced hisself down on the bed and grunted hisself off to sleep, she crept out and went prowlin'.
Now a house is a different place at night, 'sepcially one on Mars. Ain't got no Moon shinin' down out here. No fancy, little ghostly beams dancin' in through the glass lightin' up the hardwood floors and all. Dark is dark. And she could not switch on any lights. But she did not care. You see, them what's got the money buys 'night eyes'. Dedicated, caring docs fix 'em up real good ('ceptin' for the ones who go blind). Puts a special nano-'lectronic film in they eyeballs, right 'long side a the retina. Reflects what little illumination we got. Gooses it up a few notches and presto-shimy-sham. Folks sees better than Old Yeller. Them Tuva-Tuva goomers got the stuff naturally.What? I can say 'goomers' can't I. So it is somewhat easier for the skinny old dowager wannabe to pussyfoot her way 'round the palace. Kinda takes the place a the Moon we ain't got. And every night got a full one.
Sometimes she just pads through every room, touchin' all the 'tchotchkies' (that an old Earth expression) and rememberin' stuff. Runs her boney fingers along the tops a the dining room chairs recalling long ago gatherings and birthdays. Other nights she goes down into the cellar, picks her way over all the old shit and arranges herself in a worn out wing chair. That's where she cries. The 'fookies' don't bother her. She ain't afraid a no mice. And that's what they basically are....... basically.
Miss Sissie got her secrets. That why she don't sleep so much. Oh, one a the Tuva-Tuvas knew 'bout it. Not one a the two sleepin' out by the kitchen. Not them bald headed things in the maid's room. I am talkin' 'bout a different one, an earlier one. Chupicabras know who I mean. Hell they fed off her for two nights...... and she did not die till the second one.
Don't be a stranger 'round here. Come on back. You'll figure it all out.
Shhh...hear her? She singin' somethin' down in the cellar right now......
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
please click on the SHARE button. thank you kindly. leave a comment too. we likes comments.
But Miss Sissie was different. She did not require much sleep. Her nervous system couldn't accommodate it. So after Hobart (you know, the Old Man) bounced hisself down on the bed and grunted hisself off to sleep, she crept out and went prowlin'.
Now a house is a different place at night, 'sepcially one on Mars. Ain't got no Moon shinin' down out here. No fancy, little ghostly beams dancin' in through the glass lightin' up the hardwood floors and all. Dark is dark. And she could not switch on any lights. But she did not care. You see, them what's got the money buys 'night eyes'. Dedicated, caring docs fix 'em up real good ('ceptin' for the ones who go blind). Puts a special nano-'lectronic film in they eyeballs, right 'long side a the retina. Reflects what little illumination we got. Gooses it up a few notches and presto-shimy-sham. Folks sees better than Old Yeller. Them Tuva-Tuva goomers got the stuff naturally.What? I can say 'goomers' can't I. So it is somewhat easier for the skinny old dowager wannabe to pussyfoot her way 'round the palace. Kinda takes the place a the Moon we ain't got. And every night got a full one.
Sometimes she just pads through every room, touchin' all the 'tchotchkies' (that an old Earth expression) and rememberin' stuff. Runs her boney fingers along the tops a the dining room chairs recalling long ago gatherings and birthdays. Other nights she goes down into the cellar, picks her way over all the old shit and arranges herself in a worn out wing chair. That's where she cries. The 'fookies' don't bother her. She ain't afraid a no mice. And that's what they basically are....... basically.
Miss Sissie got her secrets. That why she don't sleep so much. Oh, one a the Tuva-Tuvas knew 'bout it. Not one a the two sleepin' out by the kitchen. Not them bald headed things in the maid's room. I am talkin' 'bout a different one, an earlier one. Chupicabras know who I mean. Hell they fed off her for two nights...... and she did not die till the second one.
Don't be a stranger 'round here. Come on back. You'll figure it all out.
Shhh...hear her? She singin' somethin' down in the cellar right now......
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
please click on the SHARE button. thank you kindly. leave a comment too. we likes comments.
No comments:
Post a Comment