Mike Pearson's Adventures on a Pale Blue Dot

Tick Tock Clocks and Feverish Dreams Lanky Pete woke up from a feverish dream, screaming and trying to get away from a dragon that was ripping at his back with its giant pointy  claws, and then circling around to breathe fire at him from the front.  The dragon had the face of Monty Johnson, the school principal that gave Lanky and Slim Jim a whooping yesterday. As the dragon attacked Lanky from all, sides, the face of Monty was speaking to him in a language he had never heard before. Lanky felt deep down, down at the bone level, that the Monty faced monster was trying to convey the most important message that Lanky would ever receive. It seemed to have the form of a warning, the most serious, life altering string of words that human ears could possibly absorb.  And Lanky Pete couldn't understand one single syllable of the extremely important Monty dragon monster message. Lanky Pete heard himself screaming in pain, as he tried to rise upwards from a thick and sticky fog. T...

Desperate Prayers and Voodoo Curses The mechanic got lucky and retrieved his pot of beans from the top of the woodstove before they burned to the bottom.  He put a couple scoops of beans into an old bowl returned to his yard where David Lee Royce was crumpled up on the lawn.  The repair shop blocked the view to the road, so the mechanic had no reason to rush any decisions. He didn't know who this man was, but he definitely knew his type. This large leather jacket, tattoo man was going to bring a new kind of poison into Beetlebottom, and Beetlebottom…of all places, didn't need that kind of trouble. The old mechanic had moved into town about ten years ago from other parts, that were as yet ill-defined. His services in auto repair were welcome by all in and around Beetlebottom.  He did his work and pretty much kept to himself. But now, the mechanic had several things in his possession that he really didn't want or need. There was a dead asshole laying on his law...

Knock knock, who's there...and ..Who isn't? At the bootlegger's house, it was a slow start to the day. David Lee Royce stirred first. There was one fairly filthy bathroom in the old house. David Lee stood over the stained toilet and was deeply disgusted. This was way worse than a prison crapper or even an army latrine. Those places had people assigned to clean bathrooms, this old shack…didn't. Destiny wasn't anywhere to be seen inside the house. David Lee checked all the rooms, and she definitely wasn't on that flea infested couch. David went to look outside to see what he could see out there. The old dog was glad to be let out, he was late for doing his morning business and in a bit of a panic. David Lee thought that maybe, just maybe, Destiny was outside, having a smoke. But , no, apparently not. She wasn't sitting on the porch bench, and she wasn't out in the yard. David Lee then recalled through the haze of a slight hangover and inadequate sleep, the...

Thursday Morning  At around 5 am, Destiny had enough of being cold and cramped up in the back seat of David Lee's car. She gathered up her soft sided bag, and her purse, made double sure that all of her personal stuff was accounted for. Destiny reached over to ever so quietly pull the inside door handle. There were a few early morning birds chirping to each other in the trees. Most of the mechanical click of the door was muffled. Destiny stepped out into the cold morning air, making sure not to make too much noise on the gravel. For the second and last time, she closed the car door with two hands, slowly, holding her thumb on the release button. Destiny pushed the door a bit with her hips to get the door tightly latched without making any extra sounds. She scanned the bootlegger's house for any signs of movement, any hint that someone might be watching. All clear. Destiny stepped on to the grass at the edge of the gravel driveway and started down the driveway and on to the road...

Later That Evening  Back at the bootlegger's house, the Old Man was four glasses of bourbon deep, David Lee Royce was two whiskeys in, plus half a joint. Mama was nursing her homemade gin and asking Destiny about life in the big city. Porch Man drank store bought beer and smoked the other half of David Lee's joint. Porch Man wasn't sure what Billy was up to. Billy would go outside to the porch deck…and smoke something…take a few puffs and come back inside. When he fell into his chair, he'd take a few gulps of Mama's home brew. As the evening wore on, Billy Brown just got weirder and when he talked, you couldn't make heads or tails of what he was trying to say. They all gnawed on some of Mama's pan fried chicken, with a side dish of ripple potato chips. David Lee had stopped drinking at two fairly large glasses of good whiskey on the rocks, but made sure that the Old Man always had a full tumbler of that crappy bourbon going, while they talked. They were just...