Negotiating with Cookies – The Candyman

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Fleegle says, “Raud, why do people call you the Candyman? You never eat candy and I can’t remember the last time you had ice cream, let alone shared any.”

“They call me that because I almost always have biscuits on me.”

“But wouldn’t that make you the Biscuit Man?”

“Probably, but it doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, besides, I don’t remember the Grateful Dead ever singing about the Biscuit Man.”

“Buck the ghost dog sings about biscuits, and he’s dead and very grateful when I share my biscuits with him, though his singing is more of a mooing than singing.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Daylight Savings Time

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Still half asleep, I set Fleegle’s food bowl in its stand as he waits, drooling as he watches.

“Breakfast is early,” he says.

All I can do is grunt an affirmative and go in search of coffee.

*   *   *

I scoop a cup of kibble into Fleegle’s food bowl for his lunch. More drool as he watches.

“Lunch is early too? What’s going on?” he asks.

I shake my head, still sleepy from lack of sleep. “Daylight Savings Time. We lost an hour.”

“How can you lose an hour?”

I rub my eyes. “A shared group psychosis.”

“A what?”

“If everyone decides blue is red, then blue is red even though blue isn’t red.”

“Ah, that sounds like one of those crazy people things only you guys understand. Got it,” he says and digs into his food.

*   *   *

I put Fleegle’s dinner in front of him.

“Dinner is early too. I like this group psychosis thing called Daylight Savings Time, but where do you save the light? Can you take it out when it gets dark, like in the middle of the night when you need to hunt for a snack? Are you saving the light inside the light bulbs? I’ve always wondered how they worked.”

*   *   *

I click off the television and head to the bedroom.

Fleegle looks up from his spot on the couch. “Raud, where are you going? It’s too early for bedtime.”

“No, it’s not. This is the time we always go to bed.”

Fleegle follows me into the bedroom and nose bumps the clock on the nightstand. “Your time machine may say it’s time for bed, but my stomach says we’ve got a good hour to have a snack before bed, maybe a plate of cottage cheese or some cold pizza, and nothing tells time better than my stomach.”

“Fleegle, as of this morning blue is red and red is blue. In six months, blue will be blue and red will be red again.”

“Well, Raud, you can play all the mind games you want, but that’s not going to stop my stomach from growling. Let’s use some of that light you’ve saved and look around in the fridge. Maybe we can find some cold fried chicken or pizza slices.”

 

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Chapter Six – The Hagg Lake Incident

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the watermelon has landedFollowing a hunch, Crank Case sits in a coffee shop, after changing into civilian clothes to blend in, across from the building his team searched earlier in the day. His cell phone vibrates. It’s the tech from the lab reporting on the samples taken from the circles on the roof deck. “Go ahead,” he says.

“Sir, the samples read the same as the soil taken from the Hagg Lake incident.”

He’s referring to an incident where an object on radar entered the atmosphere and they tracked it to Oregon where it slowed considerably and put down west of Portland in the forest by Henry Hagg Lake. Case’s team were already in the area investigating an unrelated case and were wheels up in the helicopter in minutes. They flew into the forest and arrived on the scene in time to see the craft land. The craft was shaped like a large globe the size of a garbage truck. They put down, approached the craft on foot and had it surrounded within minutes. Case remembers thinking, finally some proof to show his superiors that he’s been right all these years and that he’s not the nut job his superiors think he is. But before they got close enough to board the craft, it disappeared right in front of them and all that was left were a pack of feral dogs that must’ve been drawn to the craft’s landing. Continue reading “Chapter Six – The Hagg Lake Incident” →

Chapter Five – The Astronaut

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the watermelon has landedIt’s so quiet in the boys’ bedroom, the city street life outside the thick windows eighteen stories below can even be heard. A car horn. A shout. A distant siren.

Peanut hits Otto hard in the shoulder. “That was so cool, dude. I totally believed it was the dog talking. Do it again,” he says and shoves him.

The dog growls. “You shouldn’t hit Otto like that.”

Peanut hits him again, even harder. “Dang, that’s good. When did you learn the ventriloquist dummy routine?”

Walt leans toward the dog. “Umm, I don’t think he has.”

Peanut looks at Walt, then at Otto. “Of course he has. Do it again, but this time I’ll watch your mouth to see if I can spot your lips moving.”

The dog stares at Peanut staring at Otto. “Maybe he learned the dummy part from growing up with you.” Continue reading “Chapter Five – The Astronaut” →