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

And then a certain heavy warmth penetrated the chamber. Whether from the intoxicating vapor, or some other source was difficult to tell. The Tuva-Tuva people spoke to each other, though none got up. They communicated in low voices. I know not what was said. It may have been a most ordinary conversation concerning their everyday lives. It may have been obscure incantations, I do not know. 


The Texaco Party began to lose consciousness. Each one simply curled up and slept. The orange skinned individuals did not sleep. Though they became very calm and relaxed, their eyes stayed opened. And oddly enough, blinking was very minimal. 


After a bit, the bob-cats quietly padded about, softly inspecting their slumbering guests. Then they silently filed out from the chamber to hunt among the cool, dark starlit ravines. 


Now the night sky of Mars surprises people. True, there's no real moon to speak of. It's dark. We've already covered that. But the constellations are the same. Newcomers expect to see different patterns but they don't. The distances are just too great. Orion may rise and fall at different times. But Orion is still Orion. And the others maintain their Earthly identities too. I know not which twinkling light plays the polar star. It is not Polaris. It is not Vega. That much is changed. But we are still within the human incubator, although snug in a different crib. The light still comes from the sun. I explained how we call that 'Kansas' now. And the warmth comes from there too.


Solar bursts produce auroras here, just as they do upon Earth. They may be somewhat lessened by the additional distance, but not much. Yet their electrical effects increase. Earth draws protection from her magnetic field. Mars lacks that insulating blanket. She has no hot, molten, iron core rotating deep within. Her 'batteries' are dead. 


For these reasons, some call this world a 'stepping stone'..... an 'almost Earth'......positioned so as to provide us the necessary training before we reach the stars. Europa and some of  her ice encrusted sisters do that too. But Mars is first.


Indeed, our solar system is a perfect nursery. First we crossed the oceans. Then we stretched a tiny bit and kissed the moon. And now we dance upon the russet plains of Mars. T'is pity we bring war. Perhaps the Tuva-Tuva folk know better?


And the master craftsmen and journeymen in the safety of Barsoom fashion lethal blades and tools. The pulse bomb works. They know that now. The bodies of the dead soldiers are retrieved, resting on cold steel slabs, deep within fantastically equipped laboratories, awaiting the laser's bite. 


Other soldiers combed the aftermath, collecting strange, dead souvenirs. Bits of former chupicabras.  Gooey slime that once was rock. The battered, sterile, dusty remains of a 'high end' tank bearing TEXACO vanity plates. 


What will Zeb do when he 'learns' they've all been killed? That's what they'll think. Must have ventured out of the tank just prior to the blast. Poor bastards never knew what hit them.......... 


Perhaps they think the 'chupi' slime is theirs?


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

This is not a regular posting. It cannot be, since I channel things as they are happening. And What I am tasting now, still unfolds. The scents are new. The experience is difficult to describe. He who calls himself 'the wind a the lonesome pines' is not with me. He seems to have just evaporated.......


The Big Poo-Poo woman led them between two rocks. And beyond was a fissure cutting deep into the hillside. Whether wrought by the hand of 'man' (The Tuva-Tuva are still human, you know) or carved by the spirits of the place is unimportant. God uses many tools. Fingers or raindrops. It's all the same thing.


Smooth undulations of dark red jadeite formed the walls. And a fire from an unseen chamber sent flickering, orange shadows out to greet them. No one said a word. All was silent, save for the electric hum of the Hover-Round and an assortment of soft footfalls as the eleven   Earth folk warily ventured in.


Soon they saw the room, a domed space, like a primal Pantheon, or a Pueblo hogan carved from stone. A narrow shelf ran 'round the perimeter. And seated upon it were ten Orange elders. The pet bob-cat scampered in to meet others of it's breed, for perhaps twelve or thirteen of them lounged about the place. 


The Big Poo-Poo woman 'parked' her incongruous chariot in a specially prepared niche and hobbled up out of the vehicle. Someone (I'm not sure who) brought her a fine, soft robe made from day-bat skins decorated with tiny turquoise beads punched from the carapaces of the 'big-blue' locusts and draped in 'round her shrunken form. She took a seat upon the shelf (actually more like a raised platform), and gestured for the 'others' to sit down. A large pillow of  sorts materialized for Miss Sissie. Bart helped his wife arrange herself, before sitting down to join her.  The remaining refugees did without.


Then the old Tuva-Tuva woman gestured with her hand and the Orange elders exhaled as one, filling the chapel with a rich, fragrant smoke. Sinuous tendrils of this exotic vapor snaked through the ether disappearing up into the nostrils of their Earth folk guests. Five heartbeats later, Miss Monica began to giggle. And  after fifteen heartbeats laughter filled the room, as sleepy bob-cats languorously played with ghosts.......


That is all I can tell you now. The rest is yet to come.......


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

Little Davey was the first to speak. He quietly went over to Bart and whispered - Pop-pop, how come she ain't got no clothes on?.................... Bart say - She a shaman. She a magic woman. She do the Big Poo-Poo. You stay right by me, boy. You hear?........ Davey nodded. The old withered Hover-Round jockey cackled. She said - Dat what I am! Dat what I am! Do you wanna see?....... And she spit a great gob of mucus up out of  her throat. It arced over the complacent bob-cat contentedly curled upon her lap and plopped down into the dust.


Ev'ryone look. Ev'ryone wait. At first nothing happen. At first much a that noxious jelly just spread out and ooze down in a the dirt. But then she mumble somethin'. She say a few  word in Tuva-Tuva talk. And a little ripple come out from the ugly snot gobble, just like a bitsy tidal wave in the dust. It move out a little ways, then another one come out and another and another. Miz India no wanna step on 'em. So she start liftin' up her feet and puttin' 'em down real fast. Look like a little girl playin' double dutch. Then everybody else start doin' the same thing. Anybody goin' by would say - Look at that. What all them goofy Earth people doin' dancin' a I-gotta-go-pee-pee dance 'round that nekkid, ole Big Poo-Poo woman for?


But it like a instinct. They does it 'cause they has to do it. Ole nekkid woman start a laugh. She say - You them folk from the Big House, ain't yah?........ But goofy Earth people don't say nothin'. She say - You them God damn Texaco goomers. I know who you are. We all know who you are..............


Missus Buster wanna stop steppin'. She gettin' tired. You know she ain't exactly a skinny, little thing, that one. She start wheezin' - Please...Please....... But Tuva-Tuva women don't do nothin'......... Buster say - I ain't no Texaco. She ain't one a them either. We just work for 'em. Them two (points to Zeke and Missus Zeke) ain't no Texacos either..........Bart look real mad.  Jaw tighten up and ev'rythin'. But he doan say nothin'. Miss Sissie start a  go - Oh, God. Oh, God.... 'Cause she like a old lady and this more steppin' then she used to. Miss Monica's daughter (she got two. other one is a boy) start a cry. Miz India start hurlin' out them prayers. She callin' on God. She callin' on Jesus. She callin on all the Hosts a Heaven. Think I heared her name Holy Moses and Merv Griffin too. Don't know what that last one was doin' in there. But she was gettin' desperate. Tuva- Tuva woman sit still for a while. Then she get mad. Then she get real mad. Then she yell - You think your God ain't my God too!? Who care what kind a name you call him!? Who care what kind a story you tell!? You think He love you more better than he love me!?......Then why you not put that foot down and see?...............Miz India start speakin' in tongues. But one a them sound more like an ole time 'rap' album, if you ast me. And somebody on the other side a one a them tongues must a answer her. 'Cause she get this real stiff lookin' resolute 'spression on her face and she do it. She does. She stamp that big, ole 'Trooper' gal foot a hers right down in the dirt...right on top a one them little dust tsunamis.......... And you know what happen?.....Nothin'. They jus' keep comin', but nothin' happen. Oh, them what does not jump get bity, little drifts 'round they shoes. That's all. An' after a few heartbeats them little dust ripples stop all together. Just die down and disappear.


Ev'rybody jus' stand there like bunch a stoopid dopes, even them nice, little kids. Miss Sissie catch her breath. Missus Buster cough a few time, but then she all right. Peed a little bit. But her pants is black, so it doan show.


Old, nekkid, Big Poo-Poo woman start laughin' and laughin'. She say - I do like to make God damn Earth folk dance so! That one a my favorite thing........... Miss Sissie say - You should be ashame a yourself.......Old nekkid, orange skin thing say - Oh, I am, but that doan mean I do not like it.


Then she start speedin' 'way in her ratty, ole Hover-Round. Cat jump off her lap. But it run off with her. She yell - Y'all better start steppin' this way. Y'all better come wit' me. Them what wanna live, anyway.


Miz India was first one a hurry off. But like two heartbeat later ev'rybody else decide a do the same. I do not know where she takin' 'em. Look like they snakin' through little break in them hills, or maybe right in a them hills. From my 'vantage point it hard to tell.


What I do know is little bit later three bee-bops zip down and whole bunch a Chinese goomers jump out....right where they was too...them Texacos, I mean.


Ole, nekkid woman save 'em...But from what and for how long, I cannot say...


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Look Who's Here

So eleven souls set out across the Martian scrubland, one tough, squinty-eyed old man, his little bit crazy, skinny old wife, two daughters-in-law, they kids and some mighty handy, no-account cowboys plus they two wimmen.


Sky had that hot orange tinge you only see up here. Few day-bats flappin' 'round. Couple mostly chawed up dead bodies. Some folks is real dumb when it comes to avoidin' chupicabras, lemme tell you. Nobody knowed how that big BOOM BOOM BOOM come to be. Miz India say The Lord done it. Miss Sissie think so to. They do not agree on denominational issues, but boaf a them are coincidentally plugged into God's Switchboard. Old lady been gettin' lots a calls lately. You 'member how she haunt that big, ole house at night, creepin' down into the cellar and settin' in that dusty, ole wing chair? Once I see her snatch up a little 'fookie' (essentially a Martian mouse) right off that cold stone floor and hold it up flush 'gainst her face. It squeekin' and screamin, scabberin' wit' it's little pink hands and feet and all. She talkin' to it. She whisperin' secrets at it. She smilin'. She laughin'. Then, after it gets a little bit accustomed to her face and settles itself, she lays in down in a dusty, ole, dried up velvet lined jewelry box, closes the hand carved, rosewood lid and sets it down back a an old, antique 'frigerator. Little bit later it die. She got dead fookies hid all over the place...Primarily in the cellar, I mean. I do not know if each one heard the same secret...... I DO know what that ole, secret is, jus' not if it's the one she been fookie blabbin' 'bout.


Miz India got Little Davey by her side. He want go wit' Bart (that his pop-pop), but she won't let 'im. They trippin' over rock and little gullies and all. Few big, fat grubs racin' 'bout. Some a the grubs up here go real fast. They go zip-zip-zip and then ka-pooey, right down in a the dirt. Got to, else them day-bats gonna get 'em.


Buster, he one a the ranch hands, say folks can eat them grubs. Miz India say - They used a do that in The Bible. Ain't that right Miss Mama? ............Sometime she do that. She get confused. Wanna call her 'mama'. But it just don't come out right. 'Mama', 'Miss Sissie.' Don't make no difference. They been 'family' for mos' eight years now, but ain't no love lost 'tween them two God fearin' wimmen.


Miss Sissie mumblin' somethin' 'bout this bein' the first Season a The Lord's Passover she ain't had in the Big House. Miz India say - But ain't this how they did it way back when...'Mama'?........ Miss Sissie start a cry. Not blubberin', jus' tearin' up is all. Bart go over and put his arm 'round her. He say - You OK, Old Lady?.......... She just nod her head and squeeze his hand. 


Miss Monica just walk. She doan say much. She jus' walk. Them two kids a hers doan say much either. But they decent kids, actually. Ain't no semi-assholes...ain't no kind a assholes at all.


Zeke, he the bestest hand, hear somethin' sneakin' 'round up them hills. Couple rocks tumble down. That how he can tell. So he shoulder one a them ole, lead shooters and pump off a few. But it just a mangy, ole bobcat. Yeah, we got bobcats up here. Some goomer brought 'em out long time ago to eat up them fookies. Only Earth cats is fussy eaters. You know that. And to be truthful, them fookies does taste like shit. How do I know? I am 'the voice a the lonesome pines.' I knows ev'rything..........


Zeke did not hit it. But he fixin' a fire off a second salvo, when a ole lady...... a ole Tuva-Tuva lady come bouncin' 'round a big, ole boulder on a broken down, Hover-Round. You know, them granma scooters, cripped up old folks sat they skinny asses on like a hun'ert years ago? Well she mus' have the las' one. It got stickers all over it an' ev'rythin'. I do not know how she keep that battery charged. Maybe she know old Tuva-Tuva magic. An' she nekkid too. All saggy an' orange and bald headed and nekkid... Did I tell you she was nekkid?..... Oh, yeah...I did.


An' she start yellin' - Get yore killin' stick 'way from my cat! Put that 'hell-jabber' up you ass, you shithead, Earth boy. 


Bounce right up to him too. An' you know what that bouncin' do to a saggy, ole, nekkid Tuva-Tuva lady? I tell you what it do. It make ev'rybody speechless. Then she say somethin' in her very own lingo and  five heartbeat later that yeller wild cat come walkin' down outta them hills an' jump right  up in her lap. Ain't even scratch her one little bit. Start purrin'. Start nuzzlin' up her chest wit' its head. She pet it. She stroke it. She croon  just like it a little baby. 


An' you know what? Two a them got the 'sact same kind  a eyes. 


Real kit-kats... the boaf a them.


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Hoofin' it

Bart thought they could rig something up through the 'radio.' They call it a radio, but it is not like the primitive crap you all got.  'Cause what we all got now is more expensive, complicated primitive crap. Pulls in signals all the way from Earth. Which is all right for music and psychotic political rants. But it kind a takes all the life and spontenaity outta talk shows, what wit' the signal travelin' at the speed a light and all. Can't have no 'telligent conversation waitin' for Grandma Minnie's ghost story a sail half way 'cross the solar system. Does leave  time for plenty a 'piss less durin' the night' commercials though.


Zeke was helpin' him. Took apart Miss Sissie's hand-held, hologram Ouija board. Last thing it done said 'fore they killed it was - Leave me the hell alone, you God damn bastids.......Miss Sissie like that thing. She is a religious woman and all, but everybody got they little peculiarities. 


Kids is all right. Miz India tellin' 'em stories 'bout all them time Jesus intervened in her life. Right now she learnin' 'em 'bout the time he tole her to dye her 'God damn' hair and get herself a better brassiere.  Although He did apologize afterward. For that 'God damn' part, I mean.


Miss Monica sleepin'. An' I know she ain't pretendin' , 'cause ev'ry time she do that there ain't no soft, little farts comin' out.


Buster say some a them chupis cleared off. Still got plenty, but ain't so many raw, pink disfigured asses plastered down on that moon roof now. Speakin' a moon roof, it more like a sun roof now and it gettin hot in here too.


Missus Zeke and Missus Buster playin' movie star initials now, only they doan go to the holarama much,  so this game be gettin' borin'.


One a them chupicabras must a said somethin' real disgustin' to his buddy, 'cause now he got an ear ripped off. Rest a them laughin' and clappin' and tumblin' around. Seein' ears get ripped off is an absolute delight for them. Kids enjoyed it too, I must say. Least it killed some time. 


Bart did manage to suck a little bit a static outta that hinky-dink radio he makin'. Just a little bit. He start laughin'. He start whoopin'. Ev'rybody get real quiet. Ev'rybody look, even Miss Monica. So I guess she was not really sleepin'. Them soft, little farts did sound mighty genuine, though. But, then again, er'rybody know what a good actor she is.


And then BOOM-BOOM-BOOM, jus' like that...three big pulses...so loud you wasn't sure whether you heared it, or felt it in you bones. Nobody in the tank knew what it was, but I did. Them soldier goomers done set it off. They activated that device. I could tell, 'cause all them chupicabras look like a whole, big mess a Dinty Moore beef stew. Shame that other one had a die wit' his ear all ripped off ear and all.


Folks in a tank start screamin'. Kids start cryin'. Miss Sissie clasp her hands together and yell - What did you  do, Old Man!? What did you do!?


Bart say - (an' he shakin' too) Go to hell! All a you.. go to hell! I ain't done shit! I ain't  done nothin'.


Jus' then is when the what was now a sun roof start a crack up. The windows too. All of it. Break apart jus' like little pebbles an' rain down on top a ev'rybody head. Little bit a chupicabra flavor Dinty Moore splat down too. But nobody cared 'bout that. 


And boy did that air feel good. Like a wind comin' back from the direction it got blowed in the blast.


Bart stick his head up first. He look 'round at all the messed up dirt and bitty, little monkey relics and he say - Come on... We gettin' outta here. ....... So they jus' grabs what they can and scrambles out. 


Ever see that classic old movie, Land a the Lost? The one they all the time studyin' in film school? Well, that what it look like, 'cept  wit' a lot a extra people. Look like Gilligan's Island meet Land a the Lost, 'cept wit' out no laugh track and all.


An' them soldier goomers ain't even see 'em leave. Recoil from that blast mess 'em up real bad. Eyes oozin' all kind a shit. Hair on fire. Teeth knocked out. Clothes blowed off.  Guess them what got jellyfied innards doan do too well. But folks what locked in a tank does fine. 


Look at 'em down there. They steppin' off 'long that road real good. An' only 'bout seventy more mile till town to.


But who you think gone be  first one a trip and break a leg?


No, 'scuse me. They don't break no leg. They always break an ankle........


Ain't that how it go?


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Target Practice

They made a little base up in the hills. Hid it real good. You could hardly see it. That's why all them chupicabras  bounced they asses the hell out a there. Army got this repellent crap. I don't know what it is...All kind a hinky-dinks. Some comes in a spray. Some is like a 'lectrical pulse. But  you gotta know the right micro-frequency.  The wrong one don't do nothin'. Just makes 'em lose bladder control. And you know what that smell like. 


Them what holds the reigns 'round here, like Stinker Jones and 'The Posse' (that's what they call themselves and yeah, that includes Zeb too) hopin' for a super weapon. Can't nuke 'em all up. Not 'cause they don't want to, but 'cause an even bigger posse, like what they got back in Washington, won't let 'em. 


Oh, I knows they calls the Big Boss Man up here 'the president.' But he ain't no such thing. Yeah, we got The Stone House. And yeah, he wear the suits. And his wife all smiley and wavey an' all. Ain't had no lady Big Boss Man yet, so I don't know what a husband gonna do.


But what we call 'the president' is really just like an old time territorial governor. Click on an Earth-side news service an' he jus' the 'facilitator of the administrative council.' Log onto same thing on Mars an' he the president. 'Cause what we got here is a failure to communicate.


So them Barsoom (capital city) goomers got this thing.  If y'all been wit' us a little while, you know what I mean. That cat-killin' pulse what got used back a The John Carter Sports Center. That convict killin' pulse what got accidentally on purpose switched on over at the penitentiary. Work real good too. Now they gotta try it out in the open. Figured all the people be shucked outta them borderlands by now...An' they mostly got it right too, 'cept for like a few no account stragglers and them unfortunately stranded Texacos.


Now don't go pointin' fingers at Zeb. He worried 'bout his family. He is. Got 'tective goomers out lookin' for 'em and everything. Only they ain't lookin' where his people be. Lady friend say he real shook up 'bout the whole thing. I do not know her name. This a new one. She got real fancy, scientifically orchestrated boobies too. I do not know what options she done picked out. But I hear she got all the good ones. So I am guessin' skeeters ain't too much of a problem and she must get pretty good 'mega-wave reception. Mus' come in handy at picnics and all. 


But them Texacos don't know a kit-kat turd 'bout this. They still stuck in that God damn tank. An' if you wanna know the truff, there a generous helpin' a solid waste mixed in with all that yellah stuff too. Lucky that ole Johnson's Popcorn tub so luxuriously commodious. 


Army goomers in them hills gettin' ready a fire that pulse bastid right up. Oh, they do see all them chupicabras makin merry 'round the ruins a that old tank. But who gonna go down and mess wit' them son-a-bitches? 'Sides, guys (and that include the female guys too) takin' bets as to what it gone do to 'em. Seen holograms a them 'sploded kitties. Seen what all happened to them jail birds. But this real life.  And this gone be good. 


Meanwhile, back in the tank, Bart squintin' out a less smeared up spot tryin' a see if a fly-by comin'. He figure Zeb got goomers out lookin'.  An' he right. They just not lookin' down here. 


Chupi bastids quiet now,  jus' cootie-searchin' each another, or scratchin' they butts. Butt scratchin' seem to be a big mornin' activity in these parts. He did see a shiny, little football thing whiz by high up, but it jus' a bee bop. It jus' one a them fas', little Chinese hinky-dinks.


Kids is wakin' up. Shame a see how sad they is. Now they know it wern't no dream.


Miss Sissie still hear that 'lectric hum. 


But nobody else does.........not yet.........


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Recyclin' Popcorn Tubs

It gettin' hard to breath in there. Electrical system still work some...but not much. Little bitty trickle a hot, stale air fall out a the vent. Them God damned chupicabra devils 'did somethin'' under the tank. Pulled out a hinky-dink. Yanked somethin' loose. Them monkey hands should all fall off. 


It gettin' dark now. It gettin' cooler. Baboon bastids not so crazy now. They settle in. They quiet down. Huddle together. Keep theyselves warm. 


Not so many of 'em up on the roof now. A few, mostly the big ones. Guess playin' king-a-the-hill come natural to them ugly son-a-bitches. Ain't no more tanks goin' by. Them what left (and  got out) left already. Texacos (plus a couple hands and they wives) all alone. 


Ev'ry couple minutes Zeke ferget them monkey devils broke somethin'. He wanna fire it up and tear out a there. But they can't do that. They can't go nowheres. This thing won't start up no more. Tank dead, or mostly dead. 


Folks gotta go pee  now. Tryin' a be more or less civilized. Tryin' a hold it in. But all the 'in' they got been filled up. Kids go first. They don't like it. They care. But kids is kids. Take turns climbin' over in a  back and whizzin' in a ole plastic Johnson's Popcorn tub. Ev'rybody like Johnson's Popcorn. Buy in ev'ry year when they go to the seashore. Mars got nice seashores. Ain't got no oceans like y'all do on Earth. But got seas. Pretty big ones too. Y'all know what The Gulf a Mexico is, or all five a The Great Lakes? Then you get the idea. Shore house real special too. Got all them purdy couches, all them fancy bafroons. Regular bon-bon box a great places a take a shit. Miz India once fixed it up for one a her lady friends a write in up in a magazine. And I mean a real magazine. Kind got thick, rich, glossy pages. Funny, with all the 'lectrical toys they got folks still likes a hold on  to somethin' like that. Had a real nice picture a Miss Sissie makin' split pea soup in the kitchen. She do it all from scratch too. You remember what happen when her and Bart went a look at them fancy-cookin'-machines? They don't got one a them. They chops up all them onions theyselves.


That popcorn tub gettin' fill up. Good thing it got a snap-on lid. So now I guess they in The Johnson Popcorn pee bidniss.


You know them chupicabras use tools, don't yeh? I don't mean like no weed-whacker, or eyelash curler. I talkin' 'bout real plain stuff, like a ole rock, or maybe even a new rock. I don't know. Use it a smash nuts, smash seeds, smash bugs, smash heads. Sometime they throw it at a other chupicabra tittie or somethin'.


Got one up on a roof right now. He got a big rock. Mus' be like a heirloom, or somethin'. Mus' be like a Stradivarius a dirty monkey rock. He bang it down on a roof..and down on a roof..and down on a roof. At first it drive ev'rybody crazy. But now they hardly hears it no more. Monkey tryin' a crack his way through the moon roof, which is somewhat comical, considerin' we ain't got no genuine moon.


Miss Monica start gettin' delirious. She yell - He gonna crack it! He gonna crack it! ......... Bart tell her to shet herself the hell up. Ain't no monkey gonna crack through that. That diamond impregnated, quartzite-acrylic shit!.......... Kids laugh when he say 'shit.'....... Misses Zeke (she the driver's wife) find a box a Reeses Pieces stuff down long side her seat. It a big box, like what folk get at a Holarama show. Soon she start shakin' it, ev'rybody shut up. Reeses Pieces taste good, 'specially when you been sittin' in a stalled out tank all dec'rated wit' monkey shit. 


She deal 'em out. Eight to a customer. Hold back a few so they can have three to a customer for desert. After that... I don't know.


Bart say tomorrow gonna be better. Prob'ly have an army 'fly over' or somethin'. Buster (he the other hand) wanna know how he know that...... Bart feel like tellin' him a go to hell. But he don't do that on account a the children. Only they ain't payin' no mind. Monica's big one seed two full growed chupis playin' the 'nasties'  out there in the dirt. Shit not so thick now. It all dried up. You can see out a little. 


But soon it gonna be dark..... Then you not see nothin'.....


Funny noise comin' from up in them hills though. Mechanical noise. Like a hum. Like some goomer runnin' a washin' machine. Miss Sissie heared it. But Bart say it jus'  her nerves.......


Doan know what we gonna do later when folks start lookin' a take a dump......


Then they really gonna get nervous....


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