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 prayed...as 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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