These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Honey, I'm Home!

Now Zeb happened to be dining alone that evening. His new pregnant sweetie-pie was attending yet another fashion show to benefit the brave troops. It should be mentioned that she sailed through society under her own name. Insiders knew the truth, but nobody talked. Why muddy up somebody else's bloomers when they all got bloomers a their own?


Ole Effie was gone. She stayed 'round for  a while, a lot longer than most a them other kit-kat 'retainers.' Government wanted a put her out, just pick her up and dump her old, scraggly ass out somewhere's in them badlands. Zeb intervened. He knew who to call. So she had time to pack up her stuff  and wait  for a tank to transport her out to a Chinese base in the borderlands. Some folks say she went on to join her sister in one a them nice little oasis settlements. But I also heared certain un-publicized accounts that claim she 'workin'' as a lab rat for a big Chinese (and not just Chinese...big Earth-side American interests are in on it too) drug - beneficial prion, research and development hinky-dink. She did have a good way a makin' sweet potato pie. Hope they give her a nice cage.


The new gal, some jumped up shop girl from one them boutiques just off a Neil DeGrasse Tyson Avenue, open the door and jus' look at 'em. She don't know who they are. She jus' wanna  go back in the kitchen an' read her sexy-trampy holazine. So she say - Yes? And wit' all due respect, who the hell do we got here?................... Miss India (who rarely talk that way) say - You ain't got nothin', you buck-teeth, big ass, hootchie gal. This My house (Bart clear his throat), this our house and we jus' catchin' our breaths is all. Now where my 'huzzzbind'?


Zeb, who almost choke on little bit a gristle say - Sugar-babe! What the hell has Jesus done to me!? (as he run out into the hall) You here! You all here! ....... An' he do hug her, but not like he really mean it. Then he pick up Little Davey too. Kiss him on the cheek and all that...... Davey say - Howdy, pa......... But if you look real fast, you see he rollin' his eyes over to Bart. 


Miss Sissie squeeze him 'round his neck. He is her firstest baby, after all. Even Bart slap him on a shoulder. Them other folks, the ranch hands and they women doan say nothin'. They just stand 'round takin' it all in.


Bart lead 'em all in a the 'quiet talkin' room' (that what they call a livin' room in these parts. He set hisself down in his big chair, just off the side a the fireplace. Then he yell - Effie! where my drink?....... Zeb say - We  ain't got no Effie no more. Government goomers done toted her away........ Bart shoot him a look and say - What this 'Gov'ment' shit you tellin' me, boy? Ain't you part a that too!? Why you let it happen!? .................. Zeb doan say nothin'. He jus' look down at his lap. Miz India grab his hand. Oh, she do smell some kind strange toilet water on him. But this ain't no time for no scratch fight. She can pencil that in for later.


Dumb kitchen gal figure she better fill 'em up wit' somethin'. She better keep 'em busy. So she whip up a big, ole crystal pitcher  fill a Tang. You know, fancy Earth shit like that hard  to get up here. 


Bart commence a detailed account a their sojourn wit' the Tuva-Tuva folk. Kids start playin' wit' an antique porcelain Flintstones-Bedrock chess set originally won by some ancestor almost one hundred and sixtyfive years ago on the boardwalk in Wildwood, New Jersey. Nobody been stabbed or killed yet. So for the Texacos things is goin' all right.


But then it happen. Somebody push they little finger 'gainst that door bell. One second later chimes start playin 'She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.' Zeb freeze. He look just like alabaster (or alabastid, as we say in these parts)... Miz India say - Honey-pot, why your han' so cold?


Two heartbeat later door slam open and new sweetie-pie bellow - Nevah mine. I foun' my key. Zeb! Puppy-dog! Come look what all I bought!


An' kids is kids. They jus' rush over like she a reg'lar Miz Santy Claus. But then Miss Monica's youngest say - Hey, lady, who are you?


That when Miz India start squeezin' his han' real hard. And you know she got them real pointy, sharp, lacquer nails. I think a little bit a blood come out too.


I mean if she not call him Puppy-dog, they might a made up somethin'. They could a say she like an Avon lady, or maybe an over friendly disoriented stranger. But she call him 'Puppy-dog,' an' she call him 'Zeb'. Not too many disoriented stranger ladies gonna do that.


An' ev'rythin' stan' still for like four heartbeat, till new sweetie-pie look down at them little Texaco heirs and heiresses an say  - Who the hell am I? Who the hell am I?.... Who the hell are you?


That when somebody start shootin'.........


oooooooOOOOOOO(TEXACO)OOOOOOOooooooo


please press that SHARE button. please leave a COMMENT. thank you.

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... But Tonight Belongs to Celtic Magic

There is much magic in the world. And when it flows free it is a wondrous thing, bearing prophecies and knowledge to chieftain and milk maid alike. But when it weaves itself into the flesh and bones of a mortal soul noxious cysts begin to grow and the beneficial nature of the thing festers into something else.

Such is the way with Life-Eaters. Those wide-eyed innocents beguiled into never ending union with the night. You may know them by other names. Your people may call them Nefalim, or Windego, or Vampires. 

In rare cases a few have been domesticated, living in darkness and spitting out lies which simple souls took to be divine. But most survive as outlaws, racing with the moon. They hide from the sun, for their silver, orbed mother is at war with him and she knows he'll kill her babies.

And they bed down to rest in alien earth each morn, for they are forever on the run.

You have seen these lucid wanderers. You know you have. You know that. A silent walker spied through the draperies of an upstairs window on a frost-tinged winter's night. How did it know you were there in the darkness? How did it know to look up? But look up in  did, as you jumped from the glass, burrowing deep into the covers and shivering with fear and delight.

How fortunate you were to have witnessed such a miraculous thing. How lucky to survive.

And early spring nights are a special time. Young ones are drawn to the chill, moist vapors swirling through trees and cold, parked cars. Be careful. Go not out alone, for the night has a thousand eyes. Just be sure not to close your own if you should sneeze.

God bless you. God bless you all.

And may the Children of the Moon dance with other partners, for all that I have  told you here is true .

Piper, piper, in the night. Skin so pale and eyes so bright. Play your tune for other ears. Tarry not with me......

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Please press the SHARE button. Please favor us with a COMMENT. Much thanks to you.

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Native Magic

In the middle of Barsoom lies an oasis, a cool, fresh, greensward known as Jules Verne Memorial Park.  It has a picture book woodland, a clear, bright stream, called the Sambation and a lush, verdant meadow called The Plains of Sharon.


Tiny creatures, brought from Earth, wriggle through the sylvan night. Flying squirrels glide through the shadows. Cunning, dowager spiders weave webs. And specially designed, nocturnal turtledoves sing of steadfast love.


Eleven strange sky-ponies circled o're this rarefied spot, carefully choosing the proper place to alight.  And after a time, each one came down to silently find purchase upon the ground. I do not know if mechanical devices (of which the Troopers have many) saw them as they flew. In all probability they are able to do so. But this night and the events therein, were very far from probable.


Bart slid off first. Then he and the ranch hands went 'round to help the others. Although never stated, each soul sensed the importance of discretion and no one spoke.  After perhaps ten score heartbeats they assembled in a small circle under the starry sky. 


The strange sky-ponies stood 'round for maybe three dozen heartbeats more, until one-by-one, they slowly dissolved and merged with the late-night mist. Little Davey waved good-bye, as the last one nickered softly.


India mouthed a prayer. Miss Sissie did too. The ranch hands and their women said countless 'amen's.' 


But Miss Monica knew who the sky-ponies were. She knew that and other things too. And she whispered the secret to her daughter - They were the 'elders,' the Tuva-Tuva elders. The same ones who welcomed us into the jadeite cave......... And then she told no one else. 


Now Bart was a spiritual cynic. But practical, none the less. A ride was a ride, no matter how fortuitous. And miracles in the dark, although unexplained, could still be welcome gifts. So he gathered the little band together and led them along a narrow path toward the sounds of traffic not so far away.


Upon reaching the Ring Road surrounding the park, they shunned the androids and their rickshaws and set off, on foot, for 'the secret hide-away' (a jewel-box townhouse unknown to the press), there to rejoin their kin.


Zebulon almost died when he saw them in the hall....


^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+
+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+^


please hit the SHARE button. favor us with a COMMENT. thank you for your time.

SCREW THOSE MARTIAN COWBOYS! I AM TALKING NOW!

You know my name. I am Jonathon ben Macabi. And Although My story has not been smeared all over your after school television for seventh grade female children to shriek over, certain tit-bits of my 'life' have been illuminated via this blog. 


So you know of my 'family.' and you know of my predilection for fine, trim, black, leather bootkins. You know of my dark room deep beneath the cellars of the GlenGary house in Chestnut Hill,  plus assorted other jewel-box hide-aways scattered about the ancient districts of Philadelphia.


I know. I know. I know... Those cowboy, Martian bastards occupy the space right now. Yet what is Mars to one like me who's walked the moons of Saturn?...........Why am I doing this unseemly thing? Why am I speaking out of turn?..........Well, let me catch my breath and I will tell you.


Approximately fourteen hundred heartbeats ago, I witnessed a shameful burlesque of the Life-Eater existence upon my magic-calling-card........ I know. I know. I know. you call it by another name...An 'I-phone.' An 'I-Phone.' ....Two syllables. I know! I know! I have it. I got it. NOW SHUT UP!!


At times I awaken during my diurnal nap. In the past, I'd lay there contemplating ancient wrongs and visualizing exquisite forms of lethal retribution. But even enjoyable hobbies like that eventually grow boring. Edith, my 'familiar' recognizes this and brings me toys to wile away the hours. The latest is that I-Phone. ...... I use it to watch your idiotic spectacles and entertainments. ...My favorite is the one hosted by an immortal, aged, vampire woman.  'Barbra' I think the vampirina calls herself And she has a trained panel of human, barking seals who spout out ridiculous opinions on cue. 


But that's not why I am here. the Ellen woman ( I do not think her manic display even comes with a name) showed a 'clip' from an up-coming magic-lantern narrative, entitled DARK SHADOWS, ostensibly detailing the 'life' of a buffoonishly typical, penny dreadful blood-drinker called Barnabas Collins.... 'Barnabas Collins' indeed...No better than a threadbare clark from Dickens.


Do not be fooled by this simple and childish, facile rendering.....El Mundo Vampirismo is much more complex.  And I, who have faced the Fire Pits of Marseilles will teach you.


Yet I must endure the tortuous yodels coming from Mars. ....... Let the cowboys have their say. Let the 'troopers' speak.  Their tale will end. I SHALL RETURN and we will taste the warm, spring night together....


()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(JBM)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()


Kindly engage the SHARE button. Help my story live. Your obedient servant ~ Jonathon b M

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Alec's Two

And then it ended. The still, impassive Tuva-Tuva elders silently rose to their feet and filed out of that place. The old Poo-Poo woman nodded to each one, as they left. Moments later, the men, women and children of the Texaco party began to awaken. And Miss Monica came out of the smaller room, followed by the orange skinned prince. That was it. The deed was done. She carried within her the beginning of a line destined to make Mars a true human home. Please know, I speak of the more recent 'Earth' humans. She was the font and her offspring would inherit this world.


No one said much.  Mister Hobart helped Miss Sissie get up. Their daughter-in-law, India joined them. Little Davey went to stand by his pop-pop (Bart). Alec's two went to their mother. She embraced them both. And the ranch hands and their women got up too. 


One of the bob-cats purred, as she rubbed up against the guests. The Poo-Poo woman passed 'round a flask, made of finely worked, native Martian copper. Obviously a Tuva-Tuva antique. She motioned for them to drink. Bart went first. After he was satisfied it was safe, he passed it off to the others, even the children.  The Poo-Poo woman smiled, raised her hands and blessed them. Then she gave old, copper wristlets to Monica's children. There appeared to be some significance to the gesture. But no one knew what it meant. Though I can tell you. I'm the voice a the lonesome pines. I know everything... or almost everything.


Alec's two would be half siblings to the new one. Guardians and protectors to Monica's third child. It's odd. They all knew, on some level, what had happened. But no  one spoke about it. And the orange prince was gone. 


Bart turned to face the old Tuva-Tuva woman and said - Thank you for giving us shelter........ She nodded and smiled. The Earth humans nodded back...... Miss Sissie said - But, what happens now?..... The orange skinned woman from an older human line said - Please, follow me....... And she led them back through the smooth, jadeite chambers to the russet plains beyond.  A little way off stood 'bout a dozen sky-ponies, whether from La Polvarosa, or some other ranch was hard to say. Each wore a specially tooled harness made to accommodate the long, strong wings.  The orange skinned woman showed Zeke and Buster (the two ranch hands) how to lay low upon the horses' backs and hook their legs and arms into the straps, insuring a safe ride.  Bart helped the others do the same. Miss Sissie was scared, but he kissed her and told her she'd be all right. The kids took to it right away. Alec's two had been 'up' already. And Little Davey was more than eager for the adventure. 


They could see a small Chinese outpost a few miles off to the left. But that wouldn't matter. Chinese soldiers don't mess with sky-ponies. They're too professional for that. Since the Trooper-folk would be riding down real low, they'd be pretty much invisible anyway. 


'Bout two minutes later they were off. Zeke's horse flew 'point'. The rest fanned out to the sides... a big, ole 'V' cutting through the yellow Martian dawn, headin' straight for the city of Barsoom. Eleven frightened humans, strapped to the backs of pegasi reborn. Hearts poundin'. Hooves flashin'. Manes flyin'. Just another morn, high over the fabled plains  a Mars.


Wonder what Zeb gonna do when they touch down?....


'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'^'


please help the story soar. chick on the SHARE button. post a COMMENT. thank you very much.

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... But not tonight

Tonight I must rest. If you are familiar with this site, you know I've only done that a handful of times. Few others post as much.


But this night is not like other nights. If you like, please leave a lengthy COMMENT. Tell us about yourself. Spin your own tale. Make it like a guest blog. PROMOTE your own sites. Step into the candlelight and speak that we might hear. Or wander through past arcs. GOOGLE THE LITTLE MATCH BOY by Billy Kravitz. That's a good one. 


And here's another site you'll enjoy..... http://www.caballoblue.com/ ....... Go ahead. Take a chance. Explore.


I'll be back..........


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Fast Shots

Cannot forward much material tonight. Something wrong with the etherial passage connecting my parallel universe to yours. Think the phenomenon is primarily a localized event, due to all the atomic and sub-atomic discharges produced by ships and weapons maneuvering for position in the skies above the Martian capital city of Barsoom.


Citizens seek shelter in underground subway system. But unlike yours, ours rely on magna-lift technology. Mars based cannon-like projectile launchers provide cover for The Martian- America flagship, The Twenty First Century. Of course we know it's the twenty second century (here, at least), but the line began then, so they use the name.


And deep within a hidden laboratory Stinker Jones henchman study an embryo. It's a clone. But not just any clone. These cells come from Alec Texaco's nose. The only viable part of him to be recovered after a brutal 'hit.'......


So Miss Monica's husband 'survives.' Granted, if she gets him back it'll be as a wailin' little sucker. And she might not be so interested in takin' up wit' a romantic partner so much her junior. But his mama gonna want him. Miss Sissie miss that boy real bad. She do anything a have him back. She pay a whole lot a money.


Stinker not 'sactly sure how he gonna use what he got in that l'il pyrex dish, but he know he gonna use it. That is if they ever get rid a them Chinese goomers. Miz Stinker learnin' herself a eat wit' chopsticks. But it mighty hard pickin' up sauce-slathered barbecue wit' them delicate, little implements. So she just jab 'em in, like a big, ole toothpick and gnaw away. Only it purt near impossible a balance it that way. That why her pants is so dirty.


And then we got that ORANGE SKINNED BOY. Big sucker too. Got hisself a mighty handsome physicality, in an exotic kind a way. That who Miss Monica been holed up ('scuse my 'spresion) wit'. And I hear he the Tuva-Tuva pregnancy-makin' champeen a the world. You know, bein' 'the voice a the lonesome pines,' I hear lot a stuff. She seem a like him too. Big, ole Poo-Poo woman get herself out a her seat. She sneak over an' take a peek. She laugh. She giggle. False teeth fall out, but she scoop 'em up and put 'em back real fas'. Nobody see. She vane that way.


Hope that flagship get through. Hope them North American/Muscovite bastids do sumpin'.


I do not want a have to learn how to channel my thoughts in Chinese......


>=>------>=>------ >=>------>=>------>===>------>=.------>=>


please help the story grow. hit the SHARE button. leave a COMMENT. thank you.