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

This is how things really play out. The kid with the most marbles wins. There ain't no secret techniques. Miracle weapons are hard to come by and even harder to mass produce. Look, if Japan had held fast and continued to resist after Nagasaki, the Americans would have been forced to invade. Two bombs. That was it. We blew the wad. But they did not know that, so we were lucky. The technological necromancers of Barsoom toiled on their pulse weapon. They did test a few of them and they were rather successful. But supplies were short. You need a quarry, if you're gonna throw rocks. 

So the forces of The Empire of China kept coming, chipping away at 'Trooper' culture and forging links with Trooper enemies. The M.I.R. was bought and paid for, while the Tuva-Tuva question was more problematic. For the elusive, rustic, native tribes could go to ground. They knew the land and could breath the air. Recent Earth immigrants (such as the Troopers) could breath it too, as long as they continued to fortify it. Thousands of tanker sized oxygen bombs were detonated in remote areas every year. The press never talked about that. What Earth human would venture out there? To Mars, I mean. Who wants to live in an aquarium? What happens when 'they' unplug the pump? The Tuva-Tuva folk laugh at this genetic shortcoming. They've had at least thirty five thousand years to adapt. The ancient 'handlers' chose them well. And do not ask me who those 'handlers' were. We have yet to identify them, or detect their world.

But the world of the Texacos was finished. The ranch was gone. The beloved Polvarosa was no more..... at least in this place. 

Yet, imagine an internet which is to ours as ours is to an abacus. That's how it is in the middle of the next century. The digital borders span galaxies. And the information contained there grows out and expands on its own. 

Thus the family (plus retainers) is assembled. They sit on the polished concrete floor of that lower level passage, just beyond the door to the tiny sanctuary. Miss Sissie and Miz India said some prayers. The children were quiet, snuggled close to their mothers. Bart offered to go first. But  since he was most familiar with the process, it was decided he'd go near the end. 

Actually, it was very simple. I told you yesterday how it's all voice activated. Bart went in, conjured the six inch tall 'living' (we hope) hologram of his daddy and told him what to do. Big Daddy agreed. He'd wanted this for a while. And the way it worked out, Misses Buster ('wife' to one of the ranch hands) went first. She Kissed her 'husband,' entered the sanctuary and closed the door. Johnny (that's Big Daddy's name) introduced himself, told her she was one mighty handsome woman and asked her to make herself comfortable on the black, leather ottoman. She sat down, faced the plant stand, looked at the little black cube (there was never a plant on it) and waited. Johnny jumped up onto her shoulder, kissed her on the cheek, told her to get ready (she asked if it was gonna hurt. he said- no) and disappeared. 

Then a multitude of sub atomic, slippery, little points of existence, known as tachyons, swirled and tumbled through the volume of the space, kissing and remembering every bit of Misses Buster they encountered. And they encountered it all. Nine heartbeats later she sighed..... and then it was done. 

Bart opened the door. It was troubling to see her apparently 'dead' body laying there. But he was expecting that. Her carcass was no more that an old erased video tape and he told the others to go wait in a nearby storage room as he dragged  her out and put her somewhere else. 

Mister Buster was next..... And things proceeded smoothly enough until it was time for Little Davey. They could smell the acidic solvent permeating through the bunker, poisoning all it touched. The M.I.R. would only throw them on a bon fire. There was no other way out........

Johnny had to be telling the truth.........Most passages are difficult..... but perhaps there really is something better on the other side?

All we can do is hope.........

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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... We Gotta Get Outta this Place, If It's the Last Thing We Ever Do

The M.I.R. dowsed the Texaco townhouse with a solvent. Whether an acid, or something else, I do not know. But it relentlessly ate its way through the structure, passing down into the foundation and on into the bunker. Zeb figured they got it from the Chinese.

Little brown spots were startin' a bleed through the ceilings. Couldn't set in the quiet talkin' room no more, less you wanted your scalp all burned up from a little drop a that whatz'iss. So they all sat 'round the kitchen eatin' brown sugar, maple oatmeal. Miss Sissie wanted a put raisins in it, only they ain't  got none. Had a make do with big, ole, plump, green, seedless grapes. Texture was all wrong. But the sentiment was all right. What is grapes, after all, but raisins that ain't been killed yet? Power semi fritzy lately too. That whatz'iss stuff must a ate through somethin'.  All folks could do was play cards or Yahtzee. And  you do know them Nazis used to use Yahtzee as a torture, don't you know? Nazi-Yahtzee...go google it. you'll see.

Bart figured this a good time to bring it up. He tell 'em he got a way out. Then he take 'em into the sanctuary (one or two at a time) to ask Johnny. Zeke and Buster and Miz Zeke and Miz Buster ain't never seed no six inch, semi-dead, semi-immortal, holographic cowboy goomer before. They keep stickin' they hands into the image, thinkin' it gonna break up or somethin'. But it don't break up. All it do is make Johnny real mad, so mad he bite one of 'em (his kind a hologram can do that). Start yellin - Go to hell and drop dead, you God damn bastids!..........That was like a mantra with him. Bart start laughin'. He 'membered how burnt up his daddy could get. Rest of 'em (all kin, or mostly kin) wern't so hard to convince.  Miss Sissie wanna know what kind a shoppin' they got over in that 'other place.' Miz India wanna know if they got Jesus over there. Johnny say - This a omni-net, you dumb, bitch. We got all kinda Bible folk runnin' 'round over here. You can have lunch wit' Jesus every day, if you want. Ain't gone be the real one. Just one a his helpers. But still gonna be a mighty refreshin' experience.  That pacify our other holy-roller, Miss Sissie, 'cause she got questions for The Creator, herself. And if they could fix it so Elijah the Tishbite show up for her Passover Seder, that would be a mighty fine thing in her eyes. Monica don't say much. But she rarely do.

So, for a while everybody thinkin'. They just settin there, bustin' open them juicy grapes and swallerin' that oatmeal. Little Davey wanna say somethin' and finally, he spit it out........ Pop-Pop, he say, what we gone do when the war stop? What we gone do then? Will we be able to come back?.............. Bart sucks in a whole lot a air, puts his arm 'round the boy's shoulder and say - No, son. Far as I can tell, we will not.................Little Davey just say - Oh..............

Now they did try to contact the outside world. They did try to send a signal to Stinker Jones or some a Zeb's other cronies, only nobody ever answered. Well, that not 'sactly true. Communiss goomers (they the M.I.R.) did respond once or twice. But communiss voices ain't the same. Hell, the communiss voices (and the bodies what generated 'em) is the ones tryin' a kill 'em. They the ones poured that whatz'iss down on 'em.

An' you know what them M.I.R. goomers doin' to folks they ketch out on the street, or cowerin' under they beds? ...Now don't 'spect nothin' fancy, or like up to the minute. Plain, ole, bonfire work jus' as nice. One take the arms. One take the legs. Swing 'em back and forth. Build up some momentum. Throw 'em up in a the sky and WHOOSH!, down in the fire they goes. Every time some poor goomer scream all them communiss bastids laugh and stomp and whistle. Communiss kids yell - Again, Daddy! Do it again!.....

Bart know'd all this. That why he so fixed on gettin' out..... So he kiss Little Davey on top a his head, even give real sad looks to Monica's two (his other grandchildren) and say - You think I do anything to hurt you?...Now finish your oatmeal and let's go downstairs. 

But he did watch real close, with tears in his eyes, as they quietly ate it all up.........

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TOMAS DE MACABEA...UN VAMPIRO QUIERE HABLAR ......

Please permit me to intrude on those vaqueros one more time. For those of you unfamiliar with my Old Andalucian background, 'vaquero' means cowboy. I do tend to lapse into the Andalucian dialects and apologize for  any confusion that may cause.


I think it is obvious to you that I am eager to commandeer these pages once again. THE LITTLE MATCH BOY was one thing. But I find these Martian upstarts quite intolerable. So I walk through the damp, chill streets, hands jammed down in my pockets, eyes fixed, as I wait for my chance to come back. 


And if 'he who channels this'..... the wondorously creative, Billy Kravitz, is aware of my presence (depending how deep his trance actually is), I hope he knows there's a nice new pair of fresh, white, springtime sneakers in it for him if he can possibly speed things along.


Right now, I sit on a bench in Washington Square. No one comes through at this hour on a Sunday night. I have the traditionally landscaped, urban park to myself. Granted, a few wan, etherial spirits, risen up from the forgotten and unmoved Revolutionary graves hover about, but they molest me not. For what am I, but one of them covered in flesh?


And if I wax religious at this time of year, please indulge me. It brings back memories. I cannot help it.  They tried to burn me. I was eighteen years old and on my way to study Scripture at the Provencal academy of a great philosopher of The Faith. We stopped for the Sabbath in a small town just over the Frankish border and proceeded to join our brethren in a well mortared stone synagogue for Evening Prayer. The Teacher (for that is what rabbi means) was not to my liking, but devotions are devotions and he was immaterial. 


Approximately one half hourglass into the service the chapel was surrounded by a rowdy group of brigands off to The Crusades. And what better way to sanctify their new found religious purpose than the excruciating slaughter of believing Jews at prayer? So they sealed the building an lit it up. 


The lucky ones died from the smoke. I too would have joined them, had my quick thinking body servant not pushed me under the stone  rostrum, where the air was clear and cool.....well, relatively speaking.  And I did not die.......not completely. 


Later that night, cold, silvery moonbeams washed in to the roofless structure, kissing the charcoal corpses  of newly minted martyrs. Have you seen the bodies in Pompeii? Well, then you know.


And I moaned in the solitude, lungs caked with ash, oblivious to the rats searching for pools of grease, when he found me........


Why do I recount these things?....... Why was I saved? Why me? Why Tomas de Macabea (Bible name - Jonathon ben Macabi)? For what purpose? A vampire ponders these things. A vampire seeks reasons. He lifted me up and He took me out. My own, personal Exodus. (but are we not taught that The Exodus is personal to us all?) Yet He used a vampire to do it.


God works in mysterious ways......


For those familiar with my tale, do not worry. I seek not sanctification. Not that kind anyway. Parallel universes attract me not. I have had my fill. Let the world save itself. I'll be more discerning......


That's why I tarry here looking at ghosts. A young nurse comes by on her way to work. I see her on the street. Tonight, I shall do more.....


Join me for the outcome, when the cowboys go away.......


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... There's No Place Like Home

This is how they did it. First Davey (Bart didn't know how to work it) aspirated a tiny bit of blood from his 'MY FIRST HOME HEAD TRANSPLANT KIT' micro-mini squirrel-sea cow hybrid. They put the bitty little vial down on the small, black cube. A few heartbeats later Bart said the secret word (it's all voice coded) and the six inch tall hologram of his daddy, Johnny appeared. Apparently he was sleepin', 'cause he showed up in his under drawers. The kids (Davey and his two cousins) snickered. But it was all right. Johnny did not mind. Old cowboys, even Martian ones, ain't vain or bashful that way. 'Sides, them was his great grandkids. 


The six inch grand pop steps over to the vial and starts movin' it around wit his toe. Wants to see how heavy and dense it is. After that, he sends the still fleshy folk out a there. Bart picks up the plastic tub and takes the homemade mini monstrosity wit' him. He and the kids wait out in the plain, cement hall. More like a passageway. Things were never really finished off this far down in the bunker. 


Soon all the space in the sanctuary get filled up wit' bout a trillion little points of real slippery light. Tachyons, I think they call them. These little goomers go bouncin' all around, tastin' stuff and measurin' shit. Ten seconds later Johnny yells out - Y'all can come back now......... Bart carefully opens the door and goes in. After he's sure it's safe, he calls the kids back too. They look around. Everything is 'sactly like it was, only that vial ain't there no more. Bart say - What happened, Daddy?........... Little old (but not weak-old. he like a strong old man) Johnny say - It went to the other side. It over there. It on the internet now. Don't go rippin' you ears off over this. It worked.......... So they tried it with the mermaid-squirrel thing and it worked too. Johnny tell 'em all to move 'way from the walls, which is hard in such a small space, but they do manage to oblige him. Two heartbeats later, them walls disolve. They all standin' by the Big Pond out on The Polvarosa (that they ranch. that they home). Sky all blue. Air all spankin' fresh. They are still standin' on the finished off floor a that little room. Black ottoman still there. Rectangular plant stand still there. Little cube that Johnny pop out from still there (it go on top a the plant stand.) But in every other way possible, they home. Johnny, who is now normal size and wearin' his usual ranchin' duds, point out to the water and say - Look............... They does and there jumpin' and splashin' and playin' in the water is that squirrel- sea cow hinky-dink. How it went from bein' a mini-monstrosity to a full sized piece a whatzit still a mystery. An' the squirrel head bigger than any squirrel head got a right to be, but I guess it gotta be in order to make sense. 


Bart tear up. He bout a cry. But then Johnny shoot him a look. Tears dry up real fast. Great pop-pop (he like a be called 'Big Pop') say - Go back, boy and fetch me them others.................. Bart jus' nod and whisper that he will.......


One heartbeat later, The Polvarosa disappear and them plain, old walls is back around them........... Davey say - Pop, we gettin' outta here?...........And Bart say - Yeah, boy. We is.


Then they went upstairs to tell all the people.


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O. G. Tomes: AVAILABLE NOW!

O. G. Tomes: AVAILABLE NOW!: "No Harm to Charm", the new edited and revised edition, along with "The Charms of the Sisterhood" series are currently available at amazon.c...

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Step into the light

Johnny said it could be done. He was eager for them to join him. What could be better? The whole family together at last...... or most of it. Bart asked him if it hurt. The paternal hologram stood there for a few heartbeats thinking. Then he said - No, I would not call it pain, more like a feeling of  complete, ripping, disorientation. More like becoming a stranger in a strange land. But it passes real fast. Imagine, no more death, no sickness. You want 'magic.' They got magic. Food still tastes like food. Love still feels like love. And rain still feels like rain. It is just like Heaven, 'cept here they let u turn the Choir off........ Then he did a little dance, right on top a that little black cube, stopped and looked his son up in the eye. Bart laughed. He said - But I'm afraid, Daddy. You know me. I  gotta see it first....... Johnny said - You got any dogs wit' you?....... Bart said - Nope. I froze 'em up before we left. Figured maybe somebody come by and wake 'em up. Jus' hope they doan wind up in no stew pot........... Johnny asked 'bout cats or canary birds or any other critters........ They did have some tropical fish, but Bart wanted to try with something a little more intelligent. How you gone know what some guppy still remembers?


So he closed up the sanctuary (after sending Johnny back to 'Universe Electronicus' and went upstairs. Davey and his cousin was playin' head transplants  wit' their Captain Biology set. Bart went into the playroom and said - What are you two little guys doin'?.......Davey said - Nothin', jus' fixin' a l'il squirrel head on top of a teeny, little lady sea cow. That why we got that little plastic tub. That why we got the water. Careful, Pop-Pop. Doan spill it. If you wanna watch while we operate, you gonna have to set over there (pointing toward a leather sectional). That the 'fancy watchin'' seats. You know, like they got in hospitals........... So that is what Bart did and he quietly looked on as they transferred the heads of two, completely alive, micro-mini mammals included with the set........ Remember, this is Mars. Political correctness flew out the window before they even built the window. But this is also the middle of the twenty second century and even kiddie toys got sophisticated neurological equipment. Finally, after 'bout twenty minutes, it was done. The head transplant was complete. Micro-minis, 'specially genetically treated micro-minis heal real fast. Parts stick together like crazy glue. Kids plop it in the plastic tub and right away it start swimmin' 'round.


That when Bart get an idea. He say - You wanna show Big-Pop Johnny how smart you are?...........Davey say - Hell yeah!........ Bart laugh. That kid always did talk like a regular, little chili pepper.


Two minute later they back in the little sanctuary. Boys gotta crowd in behind the leather ottoman(only settin' accommodations they got. But it was alright. Bart do all the necessary hinky-dinks and that little black cube start vibrating. Three heartbeat later, Big-Pop Johnny settin' on it wiping bacon grease off his malf. He say - Well, boy (he mean Bart), you made up your mind?............. Bart say - Sort a, but first we gotta have us a dry run.......... Then he hold  up the little tub so Johnny can see whats in it. The six inch tall, holographic grand-pop peer down and say - What kind a fucked up (boys commence to snickerin') ass backward, rat-mermaid  bastid is that!?.......... Bart say - It the kind that gone get us all outta here.


And so he proceeds to do a little test..........


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Taking chances

Bart knew what would be. Johnny, his holographic daddy told him. Earth ain't gonna help. They got they own problems. And how you gonna stop them Chinese goomers when there so damn many? Communiss bastids is tearin' up the streets. King's Club got all smashed up. No where to get a good steak no more. Ain't nobody seed Larry, the owner. 'Puter say he all dug in wit his wife-for-right-now's folks over in Nimoy. 


Can't go to Earth. Well, you could try. But eighty five percent what lift off go 'gook' (rhymes with cook), what wit all them bee-bops flyin' 'round. They say folks (and I'm talkin' 'bout folks from old Trooper families too) is holin' up wit Kit-Kats. I know. I lnow. Ain't supposed a talk that way no more. Tuva-Tuva, I mean. Them what still hates says - Better dead than orange..........They wanted a word that rhymed with orange but there wern't none. Maybe in Kit-Kat talk they got one. I don't know. 


Bart did consider makin' a break. But how far he gonna get with this crew? I mean, come on. You see Miss Sissie, or Miz India or Miss Monica squeezin' off spuds from a 'red hot,' or like an old lead shooter? Buster an' Zeke might make it. But don't forget, they got kids in there with 'em too. An' that bunker ain't gone last forever. They thought it would. But Chinese goomers funnelin' in shit to the M.I.R. (Mars Is Red). I doan know if it's acid, or plasma or what it is. Dissolves bird shit off tanks real good. So I guess it jus' a matter a time fore it eats it's way down here.


All Miss Sissie do is stand over that stove fryin' matzoh meal latkes. She gone have her Passover, one way or the other. Lord gone come and set her free. Blessed assurance, Redemption is hers. She tell 'em all - Doan you worry. God gone lead us all out a here. Her daughter-in-law (although somewhat emotionally estranged from her philandering husband, Zeb) mostly agrees, bein' a Christian and all. Rest of 'em mostly heathens. Decent enough. I doan know if God plannin' a juice 'em all up on Resurrection Day, but who knows?


Kids is all in the holodome. They playin' Pork Chop Hill. That a 'puter simulation a some ole Earth war. Bart standin' in the doorway. He watchin' em. Look like they truly on a rain swept hill in Korea. Got rags tied 'round they heads and everythin'. 'Puters does wonders these days...even toy ones, like in the holodome.


That set Bart thinkin' 'bout the life his digitalized daddy got on the web. Mus' be like heaven. Everybody safe. Nobody go gook. Sun always shinin'. 'Skeeters is all dead. Chupicabras all friendly like. An' even if them Chinese goomers smash up all the 'puters on Mars, that world still out there. That world is everywheres. 


So he go back down to the 'sanctuary,' slip inside and close the door.


Who knows? Maybe Miss Sissie gonna get herself redeemed after all. Maybe they all will.....


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                 the Eyes of The Lord is upon you


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