Wednesday, February 29, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... What Zeb Does

Now while his family stares helplessly up the asshole of eternity, Zebulon Texaco, the 'political' son, sits chompin' away on a genuine porterhouse steak at table number  nineteen (the alpha table) right in the middle of The Kings Club. He enjoyin' a little repast wit' his bestest mentor, Stinker Jones, the puppet master a ninety five percent a Mars. Few a the egg heads settin' there too. Made some progress wit' that bomb a theirs. It a concussive blast weapon. Blow the flesh right off you bones. Tried it out on a few cats one night in a little lab back a The John Carter Center. Rocket Ball game was in progress, so nobody heared 'em scream. Nex' time tried it out on some human beans...some real ornery human beans...Cell Block Twenty Nine over at the penitentiary. Call 'em all in a the gym. Tell 'em they havin' a little party. Give'em all paper cup fill a macaroni and cheese. Pass 'em all a l'il juice box fill wit' Tang. Turn on the music. Get 'em all jitterfied. You know how jail house boys like a dance.  And then BOOM!!! Not one boom. Actually, it was more like three booms. They skeletons standin' there doin' a hully-gully, while all that macaroni and cheese run right down on a the floor. Big Boss Men, what be up in the booth, start whoopin' and clappin'. They ain't eatin' no macaroni and cheese up there. They eatin' shrimp. I can tell you that. They got red pepper, cocktail sauce and ev'rything. Clean up boys what came in to scrape up the jellyfied remains a Cell Block Twenty Nine got some too. Only they did not enjoy it so much since when mixed with the  chewed up shrimp and all it produced a consistency real similar to them bomb blasted human beans. Nex' day word leaks out. Mars got a weapon. Barsoom pulled a rabbit outta a twat (I think that how the 'spression  go). Folks be dancin' in the street, yellin a each other from them android powered rickshaws. It look jus' like that Shake You Tail Feather scene they got in that ole Blues Brothers Movie I seed. Lemme tell you sumpin', this here 'voice a the lonesome pine' do love them literary  classics.

Army fixin' for a field test. Got a little camouflaged redoubt set up out a town. Them what know say it right by the road go from La Polvarosa in a the city. Could be shoved in a one a them ravines runnin'  down from them hills. Might be lookin' down at all them shit covered, hyped-up chupicabra bastids doin' they monkey dance on top a that smeared up tank right now. 

You know God work in mysterious ways. Jus' hope that tank got a resistance to all this... Shame a think a Zeb chawin' on steak wit the goomers gonna blow up his kid.

An' Little Davey such a nice kid too.......

Look a him settin' there leanin' in on his mama. He so nice. He so quiet. It hot in there. Air transfer all screwed  up from them shitty baboons. They all sweatin'. Not much water left. Miss India tryin' a 'rapture the two a them up outta there. Only I don't think she had herself 'nuff rapture lessons, 'cause all she manage a do is squeeze her but cheeks together and cough a little. 

Rest ev'rybody else jus' quiet. They doan know what gonna happen.

Even the Cheetos is gone....


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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Pay the toll

We all know Chupicabras belong to an archaic strain of baboon, a huge variant of the contemporary Earth species presently found throughout much of sub-Saharan Africa. Some scientists think they were brought to Mars at the same time as Tuva-Tuvas. Who, or what facilitated this transfer of Earth primates is unknown.  The purpose is also a mystery. 

Tuva-Tuvas are human. They belong to the same species as us.  DNA analysis points to a population of post homo erectus 'tribes' if you will, with a strong admixture of 'modern' Cro-Magnon types. The latest information supports the presence of perhaps five to ten percent Neanderthal genetic material in both Tuva-Tuvas and 'mainstream' humans. Their intelligence completely parallels our own.

Chupicabras are also quite capable creatures. Psychological testing on their Earth-bound cousins indicates a cognitive development roughly the same as that observed in four to six year old humans. They form organized bands, observe complicated hierarchies and make highly useful tools. Different populations employ easily identifiable symbolic gestures, as well. Anyone familiar with first grade, schoolyard, play-group confrontations knows just how formidable  the four to six year old mind can be.

And most four to six year olds on playgrounds lack the exaggerated, almost saber-tooth dentition found on these one hundred twenty to two hundred pound beasts........Indeed, chupicabras mean business. 

The troop rambling down from the hills now is a large one, perhaps sixty to eighty battle hardened adults, plus an attendant number of dependent juveniles. Fruits, plants and vegetables form the main part of their diet, occasionally augmented by an assortment of fat, juicy grubs. Some populations, whether through natural development, or artificial conditioning also exhibit a sharp, keen craving for human flesh. 

This troop was one of those.

They made expert use of sunlight and shadow, dripping down through ravines and hiding behind rocks. And the front ranks approached to within thirty feet before Little Davey saw the first one, as a  young juvenile, scarcely off its mothers back, ran chattering into the road.

Zeke jammed on the brakes. The last thing you want to do is make 'em angry and a smashed up baby might tend to do that.

Bart had other ideas. He yelled - Go! Go! Run! Run! Go! Go!......... But it was too late, for perhaps three heart beats later forty to forty five huge adults vaulted up out of the brush to find purchase on every possible part of the vehicle. Strong, furry bodies smashed down against the roof. They scrambled onto the sides, hanging onto door handles and other protuberances, serenading the terrorized occupants with a cachophany of high pitched frenzied screams. 

The humans imprisoned within huddled together and prayed.  There's no other way to describe it. The response was pure and instinctive. That's what they did. They their simian cousins on the other side of the transparent surface proceeded to smear every square inch with copious dripping gobs of their rank, lumpy shit. 

Navigating via instrumentation was impossible, for interior screens need exterior lenses...and they were finger painted too. 

The tank did have heat sensitive screens inside. But the swarming mass of crazed ape-like creatures gave off a hot, red swirling fog, rendering everything else invisible.

And now it was the turn of other, much more fortunate tanks, filled with much more fortunate people, to gingerly inch their way beyond.

They sat there and they were helpless, as ninety nimble hands began to bend, brake, snap and unscrew some very important mechanical components.

How long til they 'did something' to the batteries?

Miss India wrapped her arms around her little boy and began to cry.

Bart scrambled under the seats grabbing for the guns. 

No one said a word. 

And the demon shriek was deafening.......


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Monday, February 27, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Aqui Vienen los chupicabras!

Bart knew it wasn't a done deed. He knew. Don't take much a bring down a 'tank.' Not if a human wants a do it, or somethin' pretty much like a human. Folks keep 'em for the wildlife. Can't navigate through the badlands or the borderlands without 'em. Big Blue swarm can't do nothin'. Ventilation system keep 'em out. Ever see a human body what been caught up in a big ole cloud a them seed chompin' bastids? First they starts pinchin' up all the skin. You see them little red marks, look like parenthesis (am I spellin' it right?). Poor son-a-bitch start wipin' 'em off.  He thinks - I might just live through this....... But then they come back. It's too late. They've had a taste. And they need more. Pinchin' get harder...sharper... faster. First you had twenty on you. Then maybe one fifty. Countin' 'em don't make sense. Cause how much your brain gonna concentrate on numbers after it know all your eyes been ate up? An' the feet do some sharp, little cuttin' too.  Don't happen too much in the borderlands...Not too much. Ranchers spray for it. Can't kill 'em. No way you gonna kill 'em. Jus' drug 'em up a little. Play arounnd wit' the hormones. Make 'em calm. Make 'em mild. Ever see them 'crystal boys' and 'crystal girls' in Barsoom? You know who I mean, those picture book, slicked up, fancy pups come fallin' outta clubs at closin' time? See 'em skip-stagger over to their sleek, little 'side-cars'? Case you do not know, 'side-car' what we call them tight, diamond-hard, 'spensive vehicles rich folk drive 'round in cities. Well, that what them Big Blues is like. Every day they get they fix. Every day they want it. Come sprayin' up outta the ground wit' the crop water. Makes 'em real nice. If them ugly bugs had lips they be smilin'. But mos' folk be gone now. Crops be dryin' up. Big Blues dryin' up too. They gone 'cold turkey.' An' they gettin' wild. 

Texacos seen 'em. Rode right by a tank covered wit' 'em.  Wern't but five feet away. Windows all  blocked up. Air intake all stuffed up. Nothin' goin' in. Nothin' goin' out. And there was the noise..... that noise. Like fifty thousand 'lectrified maracas. Who was sittin' in there? Who were they people? ....... Why you askin' that, fool!?  It doan make no difference. Gonna all go 'gook' soon anyway. Choked by a bunch a bugs.

Know why they ain't swarmed our tank? Zeke fix it. Yeah, Zeke. He the cow hand we got drivin'. He smart. He know. Got these l'il cakes, like what y'all used a call camphor. Shove 'em up in the air flow. Do a hinky-dink on the human stink. Big Blue can't smell it. Big Blue don't know it. 

That why they doan go after them horses. It all in the stink. We got some kinda shit in our juice make 'em hot for them seeds they eat. Y'all know what sprouts get like when they shrivel up in a hot sun? They get dee-licious. That what them bugs think.  Zeke jus' fix it up so we doan smell so 'licious.

But other teeth got other taste. Chupicabras ain't so fussy. Zeke already seed one gallop 'cross that road and they don't ever travel alone. Chupicabras real close. They what you call 'family oriented.'..... But God damn the goomer what ain't in the family.

All it take is one...maybe two. Rush a tank. Get all crunched and smeared up under the wheels. You know, them old ones will sacrifice theyself for the good of the troop. Tank start a skid. Wheels lock up. Slide off a road . Get stuck in the dust. What you gone do?.......Nuthin'. Ain't no cop gonna come out an' get you.  Not now. You see any soldiers? I sure don't. Look at you watch, 'cause jus' time  for you to die???

Kids want water. Miss Sissie reach back and get 'em some. Alec's oldest want a banana. His mama, Miss Monica say - Shet you malf! We ain't got no banana! Can't you see that!? Davey jus' sniff an' try an' look real brave. 

Bart like that. He see it all in the rear view mirror....

Buster wife start singin' - Joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart, down in my heart...

But ev'ry time she say that Zeke go - Right when I fart, right when I fart...

Kids start a laugh...Soon ev'rybody laughin'.....That what he want. Zeke know. He know a lot....

'Cause it gonna get worse 'fore it get better.... I can tell you that......

Look, there go a troop slidin' down from them hills right now.....


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Sunday, February 26, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... The Gauntlet

The abandoned sky-ponies knew what to do. A horse moves on instinct. They go where the 'life' is. Danny Boy took the lead. He smashed down the stable door and ran out into the paddock.  The others stayed back in the shadows watching. But after he nickered and reared a  couple times, they filed out to join him. I'd say there were about eighteen a them in all. Assorted types. All colors, but each one prettier than the next.  

First they ran around in circles. Then they suddenly stopped to taste the air. Danny Boy did some stompin'. He pushed the others back. Then he stretched them sinewy wings and started kickin'. Sky-ponies gotta 'heat the blood' 'fore they take off. That what he doin' now. Soon the others start 'dancin' too. Then he stomp down that fence, run flat out into the field and vault up into the sky. He like flyin' 'naked.' He like goin' up wit' out no saddle. They all do. Don't get the chance much. But now times is different.

Soon a whole mess  of 'em fall in and start circlin' the big house. Danny boy feelin' the wind. He 'cidin' where to go. Big Pond look interestin', but that too close. Time for new territory. Time to set out and travel. Can't see it yet. But he knowed there a big river up ahead. He could smell it. He  could feel it. So 'bout forty two heart beats later they falls into position and tear off. Sky-ponies do like geese do. They do like all big flyin' critters do. They form a 'V'. Cuts the drag. Saves energy. I do not know if any Earth humans were left in the vicinity to see 'em, but they sure paint a pretty picture. And two sets a eyes were sad to see 'em go.

If y'all recollect the beginnin' a this tale, you know we got a real nice mare what just dropped a right smart little colt. He too young to fly off. And she ain't gonna leave him. Maybe they be all right. Pig Pond got lots a water. She know where them big bags a pellets is. Food ain't gone be no problem. 

Chupicabras and Tuva-Tuva's another story. Mama horse can always fly off. But little guy can't. He prime meat. He filet mignon. Chupis know that. They real partial to baby horse flesh. It the mos' 'spensive thing on the menu. 

You see, how they do it is three or four big 'hunters' run him down. Don't make no difference if they male or female. Chupi hunters can be boaf. Now mama horse gonna put on a show. She gone be stompin' and kickin'. Maybe bean a few a them bastids. But she gone be too scared a take to the air. She don't wanna leave him alone.  And that a real shame. That mean she gone get her stomach all bit up. Chupi like a sink his teeth into hot guts. They real good at racin' in, rippin' up and runnin' off. And them what don't hunt gone be jumpin' and screamin' and shittin' . Jus' like a bunch a demons on vacation. Sometimes they throw shit too. It what primates do, don't you know.

Ain't no chupis 'round here now. Mama horse know. She can tell. Little guy got hisself all scared up. He ain't never been 'lone like this. Look at him lookin'. He don't know. He don't know what gonna happen. 

Mama horse start headin' off to the Big Pond. She go real slow. She keep lookin' back. She know he gonna follow. Maybe good long drink gonna calm him down. Maybe stompin' 'round them shallows just what he need. 

Now did I tell you that Tuva-Tuvas got a thing for sky-ponies too? They don't like 'em. Ain't natural. Ain't got no right. Bad magic. Bad hinky-dink. Earth folk made 'em. Devil stitch 'em up.

That why kit-kats kill 'em up all the time. Do they eat 'em? I don't know. Maybe rogue band do ev'ry now and then. But most of 'em don't. They jus' burn 'em up and watch 'em die. 

But ain't no kit-kats 'round here, not now anyway. They all up the road a ways... Horses safe...... People ain't..........


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Refugees

Left just after first light. Coulda snuck out when it dark. Ev'rybody feel safer then. But that jus' an illusion. Chinese  goomers got eye goggles lets 'em see through all kinds a shit... even walls. And kit-kats love the dark. They sees like cats sees. Lot a rich folks had somethin' similar done to they eyes too. Had to, 'cause a not havin' no real moon or nothin'.  

Bart picked the time. Actually, Little Davey did. Old man was talkin' over supper. Sayin' how he wanted a push off while it still dark. Davey din't like that. You gotta remember he only like five or six year old. He put on a good show. But wit' his daddy off in the city  and his Uncle Alec freshly planted, don't take much a hinky-dink him all up. And them other two, Alec's kids, is even worse. 

So they had one last breakfast round the big granite island. Cowboy wives made hotcakes. Still had some strawberry preserves and butter, so that was all right. Miss Sissie fried up a mess a salami in a pan. Ain't got no bacon or sausage left, so you want protein, you eat salami. Tasted good actually. Made the kids feel better. 

Two cowboys (plus they wives) goin' wit' 'em. Tall one Zeke. Little one (though he not real little) named Buster. I not sure a them wives' names. Call one Miz Zeke. Call the other Miz Buster. Other ranch hands gonna take off on they own. Few wanna stay. House gonna be all locked down. Know them roombas you got in your time? Well, we got good roombas now. They does more that suck up dust. Them what we got shoots folks too. Shoots 'em up real good. I think they clean up too. But they does that part after. So it not like these quarters gonna be particularly hospitable to unannounced guests, or nothin'. Everythin' sealed shut. All kinds a 'larms turned on. Dogs runnin' loose. I not talkin' 'bout the house dogs. They gone be in 'spended animation. Mister Bart went down to dose 'em up real good 'fore they left. Dogs down in little room off the sub-basement now. Bottle say it good for 'bout eighteen months (Earth months), so they ought a be all right...... I hope....... 'Less some hungry, enemy soldier cook 'em up for dinner or somethin'. 

Tank (which is more like what you all used to call a big, ole Hummer) hold ten people. We got eleven. So one a them kids gonna have to sit on a lap. Not like there gonna be lot a traffic. I hear all them 'stores' over at Walgreen Village been smashed in and looted already. Few other ranchers pullin' out now too. Know how they told each other? Old time 'crystal' radio set. Trooper families still got 'em from the old days. They mostly heirlooms now. Folks keeps 'em  to remember and to show off how 'historical' they is. Government gave 'em out 'case all the good stuff go 'gook.' And what wit' the war and all it did. 

So doan 'spect no caravan or nothin', jus' like one tank ev'ry couple miles or so. I'd say each one got a couple fire arms. Most can pop off a few 'red hots', but some got a little more power. Bart got two lead spitters. They old guns...real old. Brought 'em up all the way from Earth. Go back to West Texas. Oklahoma too, I 'spects. He keep 'em up real nice. That a family tradition. Ev'ry so often he take 'em out, polish 'em up, check to see they in workin' order. Fellah over in Rodenberry used to make the bullets. Stilll got a  few boxes. Miss Sissie doan like when he shoot 'em off. They real loud. Modern guns doan make no racket. Them what shot just go 'gook.' Even a cake don't fall.

Got bottles a water on board too. Some freeze-dried hot dogs. Few bags a Cheetos. Yeah, we still likes Cheetos. What? You got a problem wit' that? Miss Sissie got a jewelry box, case we runs into the kind a soldier what likes bein' bribed..... They not all gonna be cold blooded killers..... We hope.

It only 'bout ninety miles into town....if the roads is all right. I do not know how long it will take if we have to go over land. And I do not know how far out from  town our own soldiers are progressin'.

Folks is tryin' a get 'em a send up help from 'Merica. But they got they own problems wit' the Second Brazilian Empire and a whole bunch a shit. Who knows? Maybe they will. But I doan know. 

Ev'rybody in the tank singin' now. Men folk up front. Lady folk and little ones in  a back. Like that few feet gonna make whole lot a difference we run into some goomers from Peking or Taipei, or some place like that. And they  do got hopped-up, wild Tuva-Tuvas runnin' 'round too, you know.

Zeke just seed big chupicabra zip 'cross that road. But he doan wanna say nothin'. No use scarin' ev'rybody else. Zeke the driver. Mister Bart ridin' shot gun. And with what he totin' that 'sactly what he is.

So they singin' that 'national song' a theirs. Sings it all the time. Makes 'em feel strong. Makes 'em feel special. Makes 'em feel like somebody.....

Around her neck she wore a yellow ribbon..... She wore it for her sweetheart who was in the cavalry.....

Sun comin'  up real purdy now. Look how red them hills look.......


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Friday, February 24, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Burnt Orange Dawn

Colors were a little less vivid that day. Like nature gettin' ready for a dust up. Sky be suckin in all them itty-bitty particles a trouble and fixin' to spit 'em all back down. 

All the old folks was inside. They was plannin' stuff. Miss Sissie still wantin' a refugee into town. Miss Monica all nervous and jumpy-like. Know who she like? Picture that old time movie queen...the one they always talkin'  'bout. Fix you mind on that Marilyn Monroe. That who she like, 'cept her eyebrows less black. I don't know if the real one had black eyebrows or not, but somehow they always stick that way in my head. 

Monica got them same curvy-curves. Look like when they filled her up they put in just a pint too much water. Wears all them crisp shirty-shirts knotted up at the waist. Maybe her hair a little bit more red than the one in the history books, but that the only thing I see. 

And if you are interested, the first one ain't even officially dead no more. She got herself re- whelped by a big, ole, loud malfed turkey-headed bitch on some alien planet ain't even been 'scovered yet. Pretty, little turkey-headed thing too. But I am not very familiar with standards on that world.

Monica gawn do all what Bart say. She wanna be the good girl. She wanna be his bestest daughter-in-law. Even if her husband is presently in the early stages of death. He only done gawn 'gook' two months ago.  An' ev'rybody know Alec not the bestest son. But she got two kids and she wanna make sure they well fixed up. You know how pixilated old bastids can be when it come to dealin' out money. 

Not that she want Little Davey (he come from the better son) a be left out. She just wanna make sure her brood right in there wit him.

Now they all drinkin' tea. Coffee ain't no more. It all gone. Two cowboy wives 'doin'' in the house for 'em . Miss India all quiet. She always all quiet. You wanna get her fixed up in your head? Well, she like another one a them 'back in the day' movie wimmen. She like Mrs. Spartacus. She like Jean Simmons. Maybe her hair ain't the same color. I don't know. Maybe it is.

Bart try call the city. Skypes is down. He usin' a little baby phone, kind they gives senile, old jitter-hands in them 'ain't we helpin' you die nice' joints. But truth is that one dead too. 

Couple sky-ponies is missin'. Bart figures somebody  grabbed 'em last night. Could a been a lone Tuva-Tuva. Whole band would a taken 'em all. Chinese goomers woulda killed all the people. They don't need no human individuals. Got enough a their own already. They wants the land. 

Miss Sissie lightin' candles. She do that all the time now, sayin' prayers for all her people what wound up dead. Askin' God to bring 'em all up outta La Polvarosa (that the name a the ranch) and set 'em down in the city. Barsoom only 'bout ninety miles away...but how things is now, it might as well be a million. India got her own kind a 'God talk.' She a 'born again,' an' maybe, the way this here war goin' she get a chance to do it all a third time.

Bart know they gotta leave. He knowed that long time ago. Got all them Texaco records and bank 'count numbers and deeds and all in a little sack 'round his neck. It all on a bunch a chips. He doan trust no internet. God damn bunch a twenty three year old assholes sittin' at 'think boards'  drinkin cat-shit-coffee, messin' up other people lives. And them androids is even worse. Like to hose 'em all down wit vinegar. Kill 'em up real good.

Kids is outside. Cowboys guardin' em. Gotta let 'em breathe a little, don't you know. Little Davey cryin'. He miss them sky-ponies. He miss 'em real bad. Miss his daddy too. Zeb in the city. He workin' for the government. He safe. Shame he can't swoop down in one a them little Chinese football thingies and get 'em. Shame he can't do lot a things. 

Big blues (huge grasshoppers) real loud. Not usually like that this early. Somethin' mus' be jazzin' 'em up. Monica's big one think it the dust devil (weak twister) snakin' in from the south. But cowboys makin' sqinty-eyes at them hills.

They think like it somethin' else.......

You know Bart  got a bunch a pills? Did I tell you that? Use 'em to put down a horse what be 'sick.' Does it fast. Does it painlessly. Does it clean. 

Folks say they got the same effect on people.

Let's hope nobody here gotta find out.......


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Thursday, February 23, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Tuvas an' chopsticks

What goes on, on MARS between COWBOY CULTURE American settlers, rivals from THE RESTORED EMPIRE OF CHINA and a strangely more or less human breed of 'indigenous natives ~~~Tuva-Tuvas given Chinese overseers fits. Won't bow. Don't defer to age. Can't use chopsticks. Ev'ry time they get 'em all they do is sharpen the points and start stickin' folks eyes out wit' 'em. Chinese want 'em to help wit' the domestication of the chupicabras. Figure that as locals, they ought a know somethin'. And they do......Stay away from chupicabras, 'less y'all wanna get 'et' from the legs up. 

But if you shoot one just right wit' a special drug impregnated dart them Shang-Hai goomers whip up, it'll go mostly dead for a few minute. Then all you gotta do is tip it over into a deep pit.....a REAL deep pit...and feed it screamin', delirious, wide-eyed, shit-pantsed, bastids ev'rytime you wanna see a show. 

Oh, other thing. You might wanna make sure the sides a them pits is real slick, or a lot a folk in the audience gonna get delirious and shit-pantsed too. Chinese general and his bestest mistress learned that the hard way. Second best mistress gonna be OK. Only now I think she gonna be demoted down a fourth or fifth, the way she look.

Them what's in the big cities still livin' the life. Lot a soldiers in town. Gov'ment spendin' all that gold. City a New Orleans did finally make it through, though not in the expected fashion. A mixed band of Chinese and Tuva-Tuva insurgents commandeered the vessel just passed South a The Border. That a way-station 'tween Earth and Mars. Cheap, crummy place. You can buy souvenirs. You can eat pancakes.  Get your picture taken wif fossilized alien goomers what got dug up on the moon. They got a wax museum out there now. That new. Place smell pissy, you ast me. I don't think they got that atmosphere set up right. 

Bunch a 'bee-bops' swarmed in soon as they took off. Bee-bops little Chinese ships. Real fast. Real sharp. Kind a like PT boats back in the War 'gainst Satan durin' the nineteen forties. Only they got Chinese crap written on 'em 'stead a 'Merican crap. Look like a whole bunch a long, skinny footballs made outta this real, purdy, apricot colored burnished aluminum. They say Disney tryin' a get some for rides after the war.

Gettin' hot over by La Polvarosa though. Power runnin' out. They beams it through the air now, Tesla style. But still take juice and they usin' that for the war. Bart let 'em roll up them dust devil doors. Had to, 'less folks want a suffocate. Hands all 'gunned up' and patrolin the perimeter. Prob'ly do OK 'gainst a Tuva_Tuva raid. But what can they do if the First Imperial Cantonese come by? 

See, this war not really 'bout them Tuvas.... Nobody care 'bout them. Folks jus' use that as a cover. Folks jus' use that as an excuse. Tuvas act up. Gov'ment come in an' put it down. Maybe slide a few more rights at 'em and that it. But Earth a different place now. They got China now. They got 'Greater' China now. Russia back to bein' plain old Muscovy. And South America ain't plain, ole South America no more, either. It the Second Brazilian Empire. And they fixin' a Samba up half a Mexico.

That why The United States and Provinces of North America need Mars so bad. I know folks up here still say the 'U.S.A.'  but  that ain't right. That jus' habit. It all been mashed together for like fifty five years. 'States Rights' folks happy. Had a give 'em all a wide berth if they wanted them provinces a go along wit' it. Canada still Canada, jus' like South still Dixie. We  got regional differences now. That's all. 

Don't know who The Pan-Semitic-Empire gonna go in wit. Know what folks call them? The 'no-Pork-Chop-Empire.'  They doan like it. But it jus' a joke.

Most Mars soldiers out by them 'molasses' mines. Seems like it a very combustible substance. And I am talkin'  'bout whole new kind a combustion. Say it make dilithium crystals look like rock candy. If human beans wanna go ricocheting out to them stars they gonna need that shit. 

Some folk say Stinker Jones got a bunch a egg head from the university workin' on bomb-itizin' the stuff right now. An' if they git it right, know what that gonna do?...That gonna make them Texacos even richer. 

Earth spies tryin' a boost some a it. Fixin' a see if they can mix up a phony batch. So far they got nuttin'. Mars goomers got chupicabra pits too, you know...and them chupis gettin' real fat...

Miss Sissie say it time a refugee in a the city. She say they gotta see after the nex' generation. They gotta see after Little Davey and Alec's two. And Bart know she right. 

He jus' doan like givin' up is all......


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Wednesday, February 22, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Dust devils

They found Hilda's tank makin' big circles in the dirt. The engine was still runnin'. The music was still on (some lunar show playing Cosmetica from like the year 2130). So you know she wasn't listening to that. Bart's flying cowboys saw it while they were up on patrol. In case you are new to this, the cowboys do not actually fly, but the sky-ponies do. And La Polvarosa got the best stable this side a El Plano. 

Wern 't no blood inside the tank. Some a them old lady magazines Hilda read were throwed around. Few a her old lady under drawers too. Bart has this kit. It lets him do a DNA scan. Real simple stuff. Kids in middle school got the same thing. And according to that kit, she was traveling with two other people, both male. Must a been hands from over her place.

No tracks in the dirt. No nothin'. what ever (or who ever) carried 'em off threw some kind of a hinky-dink. This ain't natural. Gotta be kit-kat shit. They didn't tell Miss Sissie. She already lose a lot a people. Said they intercepted her (Hilda, I mean) a ways out and learned she was runnin' for the border.  So Miss Sissie think she in Barsoom or somethin', 'stead a gettin' herself peeled apart by sharp kit-kat finger nails down in a spidery crack-cave some wheres. Bart's boys brought the tank back. Who knows? Them what lives here might need it. Folks runnin' in to the city all over the place. 

Chinese got a base, maybe two bases, some wheres over the Canyon..... Just in case you do not know, when I say 'Canyon,' I am referring to the Vale Marinarus, the Grand Canyon a Mars. But you will have to excuse my spelling, seeing as I am only the voice a the lonesome pines. And lonesome pines voices ain't got too much smarts when it come to writin' down all kinds a shit.

It real quiet in the house. They got the dust blinds shut tight. Dust blinds is like little metal garage doors what roll down over all them doors and windows. Keeps it clean during a 'Big, Red Roll,' That what the weather goomer call it when duster comin'. Look like a twenty mile high, blood red tidal wave. Some folks gets hearty-tacks jus' seein' it. But once you inside it, it not so bad, if you got one a them breathin' hinky-dinks pressed over your face. Can't see nothin', but it not so bad...Hell, what do you think.... you're gonna live forever?

Kids is down in the basement fun center. The got movie house. They got hologame arcade. They got all kind a fish aquarium, some kind a bowlin' shit and whole mess a other shit too. Davey's only like six (in Earth years) but he know how to work it all. Alec's two is mostly quiet. Oh, they do like fingerin' all that crap, but they still partly sad 'bout losin' they daddy. Miss Monica (they mama) settin' up in the kitchen. They do got a little one down in the fun center. It look like an old timey diner. But I not talkin' 'bout that. I talkin' 'bout the big one upstairs. She fixin' up a big pot a spaghetti. Guess there gone be meatballs too. She mashin' somethin' 'round. Miss Sissie just set there makin' like she watchin'. But she not watchin'. She thinkin'... 'bout her second baby Alec bein' gone...'bout Whitey shootin' up the funeral...'bout Little Davey almost gettin' hisself all killed up.... She ruminatin' 'bout lot a stuff. 

Zeb call when he can. They got some kind a hinky-dink runnin' through the system, so he cannot get through whenever he want. Funny thing is, folks already treatin' him like he a senator. Ain't had no 'lection. Can't with all them kit-kats (excuse me... I really should say Tuva-Tuva) and Chinese soldiers runnin' 'round. But wit' Stinker Jones as your political  sugar daddy that ain't no big thing.

Folks still waitin' for The City a New Orleans ( big, long, shiny space train) a pull in. It  don't roll down onto the ground. They got a station up over the atmosphere. It pull in there. Whole mess a little shuttle cars tote all the crap down. But Chinese goomers be shootin' at it. Already lost two loads. Can't lose another. 

Not like we don't whip  up shit out here. But you have to understand we still tied to Earth. Goomers down there got laws in place. Tell us what we can and cannot do. Certain type a manufacturin' not legal up here. Say it gonna 'grade down the echo-system. But echos still sound mighty fine a me.

Jus' hope that train get here. 

Miss India (she Zeb's wife and Little Davey mama) say she gonna kill herself if Chinese soldiers start humpin' her up. She gonna kill herself if big, ole kit-kat man start jumpin' on top a her. But Miss Monica jus' smirk like when she hear that. Miss Sissie make a funny look too. They know what she like. Shit, half the people what be in her church know what she like. And that jus' 'cause the other half ain't had no turn yet.

It nice a be active in a congregation. Meet a whole lot a nice folks that way.

Provided they ain't mean-faced Chinese soldiers, or jazzed up Tuva-Tuva men. 

Doan know  how long the power gone last. Already gettin warm in there. Sometime when they can't take in no more, cowboys roll up one a them dust devil hinky-dinks an' ev'rybody fall out on a veranda for like an ice tea or somethin'. But all it take is one 'funny' noise, or some little thing  up in a sky an' ev'rybody tumble back inside...


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Makin' Changes

How'd they get that way? Them kit-kats, I mean. Who teach 'em how to desiccate  theyselves up when the rivers all ran dry? Science goomers got lot a ideas. And mos' a the time it go like this........ Big, ole. smart 'space' goomers from somewheres we can't get to yet, make pit stop on Earth an' use a toilet. Then one of 'em (maybe like a kid or somethin') pick up a few Homos (some more Erectus than others) and say - Ma, can I keep 'em? ........ And she say - Yeah......... But then, on way back, they start pissin' up the ship and ruinin' all that fine, expensive tuck an' roll upholstery. Mama say - Y'all better dump them ugly critters 'fore I smash you up!...... Kid start cryin' - But, they gonna die! They gonna die!.......... Daddy space goomer can't take it. So they get throwed out all over Mars. Jus' rain down from the sky, bunch a  wide-eyed, naked, little Earth goomers wit silky parachutes an' cute, little tiny bags a 'medicine.'........ Medicine got some kind a crap in it gonna make it all right for them to live there. Taste real sweet, like Micky-Dee ice tea, so you know they gonna take it. Then after  few dozen generations a low gravity fornicatin',  new kind a hoomin be struttin' 'round.  That the whole story. That how it happen. If you growed up there, you'd  a read it (maybe) in all them school books. But you  did not. So I gotta tell you. 

Tuva-Tuva got they own stories, 'bout  risin' up outta volcanoes and flyin' over the lan' wit flamin' torches in they hands, chantin' prayers and incantations to the Tuva-Tuva Big-Sky-Magic-Man and his skinny, little wife, Yetta...Yetta got a tattoo of a New York style corned beef sandwich on her upper arm. And how a ancient off-Earth Big-Sky-Magic-Woman wind up wit inked up arm like that is jus' one a the many mysteries a their faith. 

But these days, Tuva-Tuva like shootin' more'n they likes prayin'. Guns start showin' up. Traders brings 'em in from all the badlands towns, switchin' 'em for 'molasses' and certain readily salable antiquities. Folks refugeein' in a the cities. Big farms and ranches turnin' in a fortified compounds. Politicians hollerin' for war. It now or never. Mars for 'The Troopers!'......And now they callin' ev'rybody 'Troopers,' even if they people git here on The First Fleet or not. 

Some kit-kats workin' in the cities try an hide. Some try an' 'pass.' They stick wigs on they heads. They wear contact lenses. They say - I no kit-kat. My people be 'Merican Indians. .........But that no good. Cop jus' gonna grab that wig, you know. All he gotta do is make 'em breathe in a tube an' he gonna see the DNA they totin'. There ain't no where  to hide, less it in  a basement, or like a attic somewheres. An' Kit-kat need friends among they enemies a do that.  You know how hard it be a get friend like that? Ask some back in the day gal what ain't Anne Frank. She gonna tell you. She gonna let you know.

Ev'rybody wanna pull up and go in a city. But Bart say - Not now. It not time yet............Truth is he never wanna go. He doan wanna lose this place. La Polvarosa his life. It his land. He the king. Miss Sissie jus' pray all day. She got gospel recordings a Kol Nidre and all them big prayers. And she play 'em and play 'em and play 'em over an' over an' over. 

Hired cow hands trace big circles in the sky on them pure bred sky-ponies. They searchin' for raidin' parties. Soldiers from the gov'ment do that too, but Bart doan trus' no gov'ment goomers. Maybe 'cause he know what kind a goomer his own son, Zeb is. Miss Monica and the two kids is with 'em. First she wanna stay out there to be next to the money. But now she jus' stuck. 

Bart keep checkin' in wiff Stinker Jones. He skype him like four, five time a day. Stinker say they jus' gotta wait it out. Give them soldiers a chance a 'thin out them weeds a little.' (he mean them kit-kats). Trouble is nobody ever counted all them kit-kats. They said they did. But you know how people on Mars tells lies.

And word is bunch a goomers from The Empire a China pourin' in supplies an' advisers over on the kit-kat side. Siberia not 'nuff for them. Gotta have half a Mars too, you know. 

City a New Orleans (that a big space train) took off from The Yucatan few days ago. It gonna git here soon. It gotta git here soon. Please, Lord, don't let 'em lose that.

Miz India stuck here too. Davey doan mind, He love the ranch. And Bart love him. He love that little guy bes' of all.

Now they waitin' for Miss Sissie's bes' lady friend, Hilda. Her place no good. Her place too dangerous. Tuva-Tuva burn her barn two nights ago and flayed off all the skin from her bestest night watchman. He yodeled jus' like a opera singer. Could hear 'im in the house an' ev'rythin'. I never knowed he could sing so good.


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Monday, February 20, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Time keepin'

Folks what refugee out here finds it strange at first. It not the day what gets 'em. That only 'bout thirty nine Earth minute longer than the one you all got back on the 'home' world. And we already told you how folks use that time for an after lunch siesta, or maybe like a leisurely crap-takin'. So that ain't the hard part. It the year we got what give 'em the hinky-dinks.  Y'all tend to forget that we the next road out. It take 'bout ten and a third a your months longer for us to glide  our way 'round 'Kansas.' So most years Christmas come twice. Easter come twice. The Feast of Divine Redemption (I believe Jews in your time still calls it 'Passover') come twice. And The Month of The Revelation (what y'all know as Ramadan) come 'round two times too. That means all them holidays got a warm celebration an' a cold celebration. 'Cept if they hit on the spring and fall. Then they both just so-so. Now some folks like the variety. Winter time mean a big, ole turkey (cultured for the poor. freshly killeded for the rich) and hotter months bring out other stuff, like barbecue, or seafood.  Maybe that why we so rough and ready up here. Life always changin'. Some goomers say them bitty, little moons, Phobos and Demos gone come in for a landin'. I do not know when that will be. But if I recollect correctly, it gone be a good, long time. Who cares? We won't miss 'em. They so shrunken-up and puny, don't look like much no how. And not like the gov'ment gonna let it happen. They prob'ly send 'em off careenin' into Kansas long time 'fore.

Yeah, 'Kansas.' We calls it Kansas. That star. The sun, I mean. An' I guess y'all can figure out why. It from that Oz book. It from that movie. First time anybody ever give it a name. Oh, they call it Big Light, Great Sol. What them Romans said. What them 'Gyptians said. All that shit. But nobody ever give it a real name. Not till that book anyways. 'Kansas, she said, was the name a the star. Kansas, she said, was the name a the star.'....................... And that what it is. 

It seems I do have a recollection a some goomer tellin' y'all that in another parallel universe. I think y'all call 'em 'story arcs.' But I just wanted a polish it up all over for you. So when you goes outside and squints up at the sun, stop and say 'howdy-doody' for a minute. 'Cause it ain't jus' some nameless furnace up there. It Kansas. It  got a name. And now you know.

Now when them Tuva-Tuva gals went loppin' off in a the badlands, they din't do much squintin'. They eye's is used to it. Earth humans (them recently arrived ones anyways) pays docs for some kind a hinky-dink so they don't squint much either. That how you tell rich folk from poor folk. Poor folk get all squinty-eyed. They can't pay no docs. Rich folk can. We got other ways, but that jus' one.

And them badlands ain't all bad. Got 'molasses' mines out there. Got skinny, ole lakes out there. Some folks goes out on caravans a see them canyons. And I ain't tole you 'bout all what live out there yet. Some a the towns are all right. Borg stinks. Y'all ain't wanna go to Borg.  But Lucasville can be nice. Hear tell they make good wine out there. Ain't had none and never will, 'cause I jus' the wind in the pines. But you already knowed that. I can smell it, though. 

But them settlements I talkin' 'bout all seperate like and guarded up. Ever see 'She Wore a Yellow Ribbon'? That why they calls 'em 'Troopers.' Mars folk, I mean.  One set a humans (the new kind) does they hinky-dinks in the fence. And one set (them orange goomers) run 'round outside. 

Gonna take them Tuva-Tuva gals few nights a get there, but they will. Tuvas knows how to git water. They knows how to dig up all kind a eatin' stuff. Some of it animal eatin' stuff and some a it not. Soon that money they totin' gone be translated in a fire arms. Soon they gonna have a whole lot a new shootin' irons. 

And that stuff gone on all over this place. Some shit-for-brain travelers already got theyselves throwed in a chupicabra pit. 

And some soldiers already gone out on raids. Zeb gone be a good senator. He gonna vote for raids. They gone mix it up real bad.

Little Davey? He home from that hospital. He like them dogs. He like them sky-ponies. He like what them new kitchen maids cooks up. But he not gone have much time a relax. Badlands be creepin' in on 'em. 

Hell, soon even that Walgreen gone be a dang'rous place.......

'Around her neck she wore a yellow ribbon. She wore it  for her sweetheart who was in the cavalry'...... I likes that song......


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Sunday, February 19, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Politics

So the official word was that a bunch a crazy, liquored up Tuva-Tuva men did it. I  told you we don't see too many a them in town, or workin' the ranches. More now than in the past, but still not a lot. They stay out in the badlands. Got settlements. Got harems. Women folk in the city send 'em money and all kinds a shit. A few got guns. Not the high powered ordinance, more like the that little 'red hot' shooter Whitey had. Only now folks don't know 'bout Whitey. They be talkin' 'bout them 'God damned kit-kats.' That's what Stinker Jones said. Cops ain't gonna argue. They hates kit-kats. Oh, they be polite when they gotta be..No, not polite, just regular...just official. But let 'em pick one up for boostin' a box a PopTarts or pissin' on a tank stop an' you see  how fas' that orange skin turn black and blue. Now don't think these cops like what you got in your time, 'cause they ain't. Life is tough out here. Jus' gone to the Walgreen can be precarious without  you got the right kind a vehicle. Chupicabras go after you. Wild kit-kats pinch your ass. (That Mars slang for kill you.)  Nasty, crime-boss, politician like to f#*k with you kids.  Hell, you had it back on Earth. I seen old prints a Marshall Dillon. So don't judge us. All right? Keep you trap shut. Cops is peace officers out here and if they take a little piece in return, who the hell care? What? You wanna do it?

Only now, Stinker tell Zeb he gotta bad mouth all them kit-kats. Zeb don't wanna do it. He like kit-kats. He played wif kit-kats. He 'tickle' kit-kats. The female variety, I mean. Stinker say - You wanna be senator, don't you? You wanna go all the way to The Stone House, don't you?.......... Zeb say - know I do...............Bart, his daddy, like to bash his head when he talk like that. Put down his big, ole steak-eatin'-fork (They in town. They in The King's Club) and he say - Shut your tater trap and learn somethin', boy! You listen a what he say! I payin' big money for this 'lection and you ain't gonna f#*k it up!...........Then he turn a Stinker and say - You  got them holagrams? You got the 'wiggle pictures' (like bill board ads) all ready?...........Stinker fingernail a piece a gristle outta his teeth and say - What the hell you think!? I a professional!

And that how it go. So tomorrow, Zeb gone give speech 'bout securin' them badlands. Then later he gone shake hands  wiff folks waitin' at tank-bus stop. Like he ever in his life once sat his ass in a tank-bus. And the fact is, this family never be that way. They got no grudge 'gainst them kit-kats. Hell, Tillie and the other one eat same shit they do...jus' a few days later is all. Little Davey, who is mostly all healed and resurrected by now, hardly ever bad mouth them Tuva-Tuva folk. His mama, Miz India do, but she say prayer after, so it all right. 

Tillie know all this. Bein' bald doan make her deaf.  The other one know it too.  And now they got all a Whitey's money...that whole vial, what he once had shoved up his butt. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollahs. His half from sellin' Mister Alec's partly spoiled body cells to them 'duplication' goomers in Barsoom. 

And what you think them orange skin gals  gone do wiff it? After spendin' some at the Walgreen, I mean. They gone git it to the men folk. They gone git it to the badlands.

Mister Stinker want trouble? He gone git it? Mister Zeb want trouble? He gone taste some too. All them rich, powerful 'Troopers' (descendants of first settlers) gonna git it. An' them poor, dumb goomers humpin' after them gone git it even more. 

Mars is red. That much is true..... And soon it gonna git a whole lot redder.....

mars  mars  mars  mars  mars  mars  mars  mars

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Saturday, February 18, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Cher said it best

Cops finally got around to scraping up what was left a Whitey. Ran some tests. Stored a few cells in the dead-poor-folks freezer.  Gave some to a cosmetic skin cream manufacturer. Hell, he more valuable dead than alive. Horse got buried out in the Texaco sky-pony cemetery. Nobody knowed what religion he was, so they just guessed. Figured his kind must hold to somethin' like an old plains indian hinky-dink. Ain't too many full, or mostly full blooded Plains Indians 'round here, so they got one a the Tuva-Tuva gals to say somethin'. I do not think it was Tillie. I think it was the other one. So she take an ole maraca outta Mister Zeb's ole toy box an' a cup fill a coarse kosher salt from the kitchen. Don't take much. She in business. Mister Bart (temporarily back from the hospital) stand there all craggy-faced. Miss Sissie tetterin' next to him. It gettin a be funeral-central 'round here.  Kid's like it. Even Alec's two get into it. Boy read a poem. Girl tear it up to confetti. Tuva-Tuva gal catch it in her cup, light it up and sing some shit from an ole Ima Sumac record. (I told you, mid twentieth century stuff real big out here). Then she shake that maraca like a palsied Xavier Cugat and 'poof' that horse 'ficially dead. 

Mister Bart take kids out to the Walgreen for new sneakers and ice cream. (The traditional thing to do wit' kids what just saw somethin' dead.) Then he  rush back to the hospital. Zeb never left no hospital. Holavision guys outside. That would look bad. Daddy gotta stay there. Sides, android gal in a coffee shop doin' right by him. An' it ain't like she carry no human disease or nothin'.  Can't never give birth to so much as a pimple. Lucky she know 'bout them discreet, little storage closets. An' so what if that coffee shop gone through whole lot a sugar lately? Ev'rybody know sugar good for you. It IS made from a vegetable, ain't it? So shut  your malf.

But the good thing is little Davey do seem to be 'roundin' the bend. Doc say he gonna live. Doc say he gone be fine. Doc say he want two hundred and seventyfive thousand dollars.  I mean after all, he did manage to look concerned and go 'tsk, tsk, tsk' five times. That do count for somethin'. Not like Bart gone pay it. But don't hurt to ast. You want fish in a pan, you gotta go fishin', right? An' ev'rybody know how much doctah do love them fish. Side's 'surance goomers give him plenty. Ast his wife. Ain't that why her mama make her marry him? But that part a other on-going serial. We talkin' 'bout other shit. We talkin'  bout our own crap. 

And speakin' a money, Bart send themTuva-Tuva gals out to de-Whitey-fy them stables. They don't mind 'cause it get 'em outta house for a little bit. He got nasty stuff out there. Them orange skin gals like a look at it. He got little holograms for his player, look like some kind a shiny ceegar case. They push 'em in a machine. They stick the dome on top. They laugh. They jabber. They watch. Then one a them see a little hologram case on a floor, layin' right by an ole shoe. She pick it up, fixin to slide it into that machine. But it stink funny. It stink real bad. She say somethin' to the other one. Other one smell it all up an' down. Then she starts to shakin' it. Now it not only stink funny, it sound funny too. This aint no hologram case. This too heavy. This too solid. First one take it back. She lookin for a way a crack it open. Then she spot the seam. Not so easy to do, considerin' the glare from that late day sunlight slicin' through the place. An' them two parts is screwed together real tight like. But after 'bout three farts an' a half belch she do manage a get it open. Them Tuva-Tuva do got nimble fingers. Ev'rybody know that. An' ten heart beats later, there it is.... Two hundred and fifty five thousand dollahs (mostly in ten thousands), laid out all over dead Whitey's crusty, ole blanket. Them slit-pupil cat eyes they got open real wide, obliterating most a the purdy amber part. One say somethin' a the other. Other one shake a hand. (that how they say 'yeah'.) And them bills get split up real fast. Place get a five minute tidy-up and two newly-minted bald headed, pun'kin skinned (jus' the color) beauties sashay back into that house like they Sonny and Cher. 

Gypsies, tramps and thieves. What else you 'spect? I told you...this a Mars..... Ev'rybody get rich sometime.....


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Friday, February 17, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ...... How it really was

The big house was quiet. Bart and Zeb sent communications from the hospital from time to time. Miss Sissie, or Miz India picked up. Nothing much to tell. Davey still 'holding his own.' What ever that means. They  got a little room for the families off intensive care. The chairs are big and plush. Folks sleep. People snore. Every two floors got a small coffee shop. Android gal in it look jus' like Susan Sarandon. Old timey movie stars is big now. Bart jus' had hisself a She try to sell him a big, ole sticky bun, but he don't want no food. Zeb sleepin. It ain't that he don't love that boy. It ain't that he don't worry. It ain't nothin' 'cept the fact that Zeb gotta sleep. Bart don't care. He don't wanna talk too much now anyway. Funny how that android gal watch the little halovision. What she think? Do she care about the story? Do she side with the people or  the blender? Once had a big story on the news...Do Androids Got Souls?........ Big goomer from some denomination say they ain't got none cause God din't make 'em. Some other goomer say the fac' that androids been askin' if they have souls shows they do. 'Cause God steps in where He is needed and He ain't gonna leave them innocent contraptions all high and dry. Then some lady say - How you know you gotta soul? Goomer say he do 'cause Good Book say he do....Android woman get up from audience and start cryin' bout her mate (also an android) what got stomped on by a elephant when the circus come to town. And she cryin' and cryin'. She say - You mean a tell me I ain't gone see him when my time come to die? ......... Goomer fellah say all she  gone see is bottom of a recyclin' bin........News lady say - Well ain't that what the dirt gone do to you?.......It just go 'round like that, 'cause truth is, nobody know...... You see, God good at keepin' surprises.

Miss Monica layin' all curled up in her bed. Ain't her real bed. That one back in town. This a guest room bed. But it in Alec's old room. They use it ev'ry time they come out here. So it a little bit like home. She thinkin' 'bout Alec. She paintin' up brain pictures a her dead husband. He a actor. Well, I mean before his recent permanent hiatus he was. Made all kind a shows back in Barsoom. Nobody know he Bart Texaco's son, 'specially in them early days. Ev'rybody jus' think he nobody son. And you know how hard it is for actor what ain't got no daddies, or uncles, or cousins. So he beg. And he go hungry. And he take all kind a job.....Sellin' teeth buds to old folks over the phone. Teachin' semi-reformed, cripped-up pirates how to tap dance. I don't know. Maybe it was jazz dance he was learnin' 'em. I can't remember. But it turn out one a them cripped up pirates got a daddy in the entertainment industry....Excuse me, the entertainment cousins' club, I means. Pirate know how patient Alec be learnin' him to do them 'jazz hands.'  So he communicate wit' his daddy and say - I want you to git a job for my friend, ole man. ........ Ole man say - What your friend do?......... Cripped up pirate say - He a actor. An' he know how to dance around a lot too............. Ole man say - Jesus Christ, that do sound special. But who his daddy? Why we gotta slice off piece a pie for him?........... But cripped up pirate mighty tricky. He cagey. He shifty. He know things. So he say - What I got here is Bart Texaco's baby boy. You want a friend like that, ole man?........Ole man say he do an' two day later Bart makin' peek-a-boo naked hinky-dink wit' some fancy breasted gal on a prime-time HV show. (that what they say 'stead a halovision.)

Miss Monica thinkin' 'bout all that. They already got stories 'bout her husband all over the halovision and ev'ry other kind a 'vision' too. Talkin' 'bout him. Talkin' 'bout his funeral. Talkin' 'bout the shootin's, 'bout the quality a the brisket. Talkin' 'bout all a it. And she doan want it no more. She sick and tired bein' a hootchy-hootch for ev'ry piece a gold come her way. Miz India don't gotta do that. Miz India jus' meet folks and say - Howdy-do! Why you not come swimmin' at my club?..... She got fancy lady friends all eat lunch outta same trough. All buy brassieres together. Say - Do this thang make part a my lef' tittie look a little bit funny to you?

Well Monica want that too. Not the funny, lef' tittie part. She too much a body-wise, self-aware actor lady to wish herself somethin' like that. But she do want the rest a it. An' she make sure folks sees her goin' in to check on Miss Sissie and all. 'Specially them cops sleepin' in the blue room. She make sure they sees her walkin' by real good. 'Specially that cute one......


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Thursday, February 16, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Medicine

Things got real quiet at the hospital. Once they get everything all set up there ain't much noise. Little Davey hung suspended in a twelve foot lucite cube. We have other names for the material now. But you'd probably call it lucite. The interior is filled with a clear substance much like aloe vera gel. Young Texaco floats in it. There are not tubes. Vital signs are transmitted directly through the gel to detailed read-outs on the exterior side of the enclosure. 

Oxygen transference is accomplished via chemicals and molecules dissolved in the clear viscous substance. The boy's eyes are open, though he appears to be in an unconscious state. He rests in a 'sitting position, but tilted forward approximately forty five degrees. 

Upon close inspection it is possible to detect subtle movements and currents flowing through the gel. It penetrates deep into the wound on the front of his shoulder and exits the opening on his back.

A physician, this time human, whispers something to Bart and his son, Zeb. They ignore most of the details, focusing on one pivotal phrase.....'We'll know more in the morning.'....................Zeb just swallows and nods. Bart demands more. He grabs the 'healer' by his upper arm and says - Wait a minute. If that was your boy in that thing. What would you wanna hear? Don't tell me what's 'good' for you. Tell me the truth.  'Cause what I'm hearin' is 'He ain't gonna die during my watch.' Is that it?.............. The doc exhales and says - what do you want me to tell you?.............Bart says - Gimme the odds. What's his chances?.............The doc studies the data scrolling across the side of the cube, thinks for a moment and says - Right now, he's got a thirty percent chance. We don't know what can grow in there. He's torn up real bad. They got so many prions and virons here. We don't know them all. How many generations have lived here? Not that many. It's gonna take centuries for us to get a handle on all this. ............Zeb wakes up and says - Well, what are you gonna do for him?...........The doctor says - This is it, I'm afraid. Will it be enough? I got to go back to what I said before. We have to give it a few hours............. Don't say 'it'! Don't say 'it'! He is not an 'it'! That is David Lightner Texaco you got in there. Do you hear me!? I give one point five mill a year to this shit hole... Gimme back my kid!!................ Then he knocks over the coffee machine. Doc don't care. He ain't gonna clean it up. Tuva-Tuva man come in to do that. Hell, he cheaper than a robot and damn sure less than an android.

Zeb try to get Bart out the door. Ole man slap him off. Doc say - Please, Mr. Texaco. We just have to wait...............Bart just stare him down and say - Look, you bastid. You charge like you sellin' miracles...You make sure he gets some......... Then he shove that 'dedicated man of medicine 'gainst a wall and stomp out............ Five yard later he yell - Zeb!..... And Davey's daddy runs out after........

Miss Monica a actor, jus' like her late husband. She play lot a roles. Loud mouthed hootchies a specialty. But she can do other parts too. Right now she playin' 'strong-woman-in-charge'. Got Miss Sissie upstairs in bed. Got the cops all liquored up. They did not want any at first, but it did not take too much convincin' to change they minds. Ev'rybody know how good Texaco   drink is. 

Nobody run over to scrape up Whitey or that sky-pony. Flies don't mind. More juicy meat for them. It crazy hearin' flies buzz like that at night. They far off from the house. But you could still hear 'em. Tillie, the kat-kat gal (excuse me, Tuva-Tuva) say some a them big blues (locusts) and squasha-bugs (another Mars variety) prob'ly diggin' in too. Cops don't seem to care much. They already got the truth. Got it straight from Stinker. And that all that count 'round here.

Miss Monica eyein' all that silver they got displayed in the fancy eatin' room. Got it all locked up in them fancy glass cupboards. Not that she want a big mess a old timey gravy boats and curly-que  candle sticks (some of 'em rumored to be from the Liberace Museum in Las Vegas, Earth), but she know how much wealth they represent. And she want the mama bear part a it  for her kids. 

India jus' set in the chapel mouthin' her prayers. Miss Sissie got it all tricked out for her Pittsburgh Platform, Reform Judaism psalm singin'. But Miss India say that don't matter none 'cause Jesus prob'ly prayed in place jus' like that...... 'Ceptin' all signs point to Him havin' a more Orthodox kind a upbringin'. 

Tillie laugh at all a them from the kitchen. She know her way the best. She grindin' her 'spirit' herbs in that little jade bowl. She hummin' her songs.  Dip a finger in it and take a lick. Oh, look at her. Now she start a tremble, doin' the Saint Vitus dance, 'cept they ain't got no Saint Vitus in her holy book. But them Tuva-Tuva ain't got no book at all. Well, they do, but it written inside they heads....

Sun gone pop up over by the big pond soon... Then maybe we know.

Miss Monica run her hand over that long shiny table....You can tell....She like the way it feel......


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