THE WIND THROUGH THE KEYHOLE

Greetings and salutations again loyal blog readers,

As you can see I’m packing up.  I’ve had no time to write during my stay at the Werewolf Monastery, and quite frankly the monks are getting on my nerves.  I may have over stayed my welcome.  I think I’ve fixed about everything they could find and I installed new accent lighting in the gardens.  It looks very nice, but that’s not what I meant to do with my time.  The other reason for my sudden departure is I haven’t heard from Mischievous Raven and that worries me.  As you know he was abducted a while back and held for ransom by The Three Misfiteers.  Although I fulfilled my part of the bargain to obtain his release, which required me to submit their novel out to literary agents.  I admit that I’ve slacked off for the past two months.  And those three are not above taking my good friend and confidant again.  So I’m heading back to The Swamp today to check on my friend.  My muse has the armored Humvee here and he’s agreed to drop me off.  That saves me a trip through the Impenetrable Forrest.

Today we’re going to talk about Stephen King’s most recent work, The Wind Through The Keyhole.  I openly admit to being a huge fan of Mr. King.  Also known as The Master around The Swamp.  The critics were pretty cool on this book.  One said, it was disappointing because it did not further the Gunslinger story at all.  While it is true that it does nothing to further the series, it is a great tale in its own right.  The Wind Through the Keyhole is a story within a story within another story.  And while it takes its place right in the middle of the Gunslinger series, it gives some insights into the characters that we already know and have come to love.  Roland and his ka-tet– Jake, Susanna, Eddie and Oy, the billy-bumbler have to hunker down to ride out a storm.  To pass the time Roland tells them a story about himself as a young gunslinger, in which he tells a young boy a story to keep his mind off the difficult task Roland has put upon him.

The tale itself (without the set up) is a wonderful read and demonstrates why SK is one of the best (if not thee best) writer of his generation.  We are transported back to mid-world when Roland was a brand new gunslinger.  SK’s feel for this alternate world and his ability to share it with the reader is wondrous.  I found myself there, next to Roland as he takes on one of his first challenges as a gunslinger.

Isn’t that why we read fiction in the first place.  Keyhole is a character driven ticket to another world.  Characters we love, and some we hate, and still others we love to hate.  By arranging black letters on a white background, SK creates emotional responses in us, as we lay safely in bed turning pages until the wee hours of the morning.  Who could ask for more.  Thanks Stephen.

“Time is a keyhole, he thought as he looked up at the stars.  Yes, I think so.  We sometimes bend and peer through it.  And the wind we feel on our cheeks when we do–the wind that blows through the keyhole–is the breath of all the living universe”

That short excerpt speaks for itself.

I love reading, which is probably why I write.  Or maybe it’s the other way around.  Either way, if you’re a huge fan of The Master then reviews are meaningless and you’ve already read or are planning to read this book.  If on the other hand, you are a sometimes reader of SK, don’t let the critics steer you away from this powerful story.  By a ticket and enjoy your journey into mid-world.

Todays quote comes from G.K. Chesterton:

“Literature is a luxury; fiction is a necessity.”

Thanks for stopping by,

Write on,

Errie

new books abound

Greetings and Salutations Glorious Readers of the blog,

I’m glad to see you made it through the Impenetrable Forrest with Mischievous and myself.  On our way we passed Dreamers quaint little cottage, we attracted the zombie horde and brought them along with us.  It was the good thing too, because when the Piranha Hummingbirds attacked the zombies were slow and they were devoured down to the bare bones affording us an easy escape.  So that’s a few less zombies to pester Dreamer.  Of course there are always new ones showing up so the Prankster Duo won’t have to worry about running out of playmates anytime soon.  In our mad dash to escape I think we ran right past a Killer Koala.  He was probably disoriented by Mischievous’  screaming.  What’s that?  I was the one screaming.  Are you sure?  Well, who knew my short legs could move so fast, even as screamed like a little girl.

Mischievous and I are holed up here in the old Catholic unconsecrated cemetery to wait out the full moon. There is no cell phone service here so we are out of touch with the world for now.  I hope the Snark is recuperating all right.  It’s a serious thing if the Whipmistress’ Snark isn’t feeling well.  The reason we’re stuck here in the cemetery  is The Werewolf Monks, wonderful hosts that they are, don’t accept visitors during the course of the full moon.  Of course my muse is safe because he’s already there.  Don’t worry about us we’re safe because the unconsecrated cemetery is neutral territory.  Nothing messes with the Enforcer Spirits that execute the law around here, not even the zombies are that stupid.  And let’s face folks the zombies aren’t just playing with a less than a full deck. Their deck only contains Jokers and Lazy Jacks.   So while we’re cooling our jets here I thought I’d talk about what I’ve been reading.

Besides my daily spiritual readings, in the last week three of my  favorite authors have released books.  The first and foremost is of course is the Master’s.  Just when you thought it was safe to visit mid-world again Mr. King has released another book in the Gunslinger series. This new book titled The Wind Through the Keyhole, falls in the middle of the Dark Tower cycle, between Wizard and Glass and Wolves of Calla.  I’ve only just begun to read it so I can’t tell you much more than that.  It should comfort me nicely here against the headstone of poor old Liam Flannery who passed away two days before the Mrs., affording him a very short respite from her sharp tongue.  The critics have been sharp tongued with regards to SK’s revisiting of mid-world, and although it’s too early for me to have an opinion on the work itself I must say it is courageous of Stephen to reopen the doorway to visit with Roland and his ka-tet.

The second book added to my granite nightstand is the latest from that jokester Mr. Christopher Moore titled Sacre Bleu.  He claims it is a book about the color blue.  What ever he says about it, is irrelevant because he never fails to make me laugh out loud.  It’s a Dirty Job was about a beta male.  And You Suck is a love story.  I’m looking forward to laughing in public places as I read all about the color blue.

And last but not least Bloodstorm by Amber Kallyn is out in paperback from Amazon.  A love story with intrigue, passion, and blood sucking vamps.  Five Salamanders out of five.  Check it out at Amazon.

In any case I’ll savor my time with these authors because they always entertain.  Fortunately the moon is rising early and it’s plenty bright enough for me to read by.  So I think I’ll wrap it here and get some reading in this week I’ll leave you with a little taste of Christopher Moore.

“That’s the difference between irony and sarcasm. Irony can be spontaneous, while sarcasm requires volition. You have to create sarcasm.” 

― Christopher Moore, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal

“Charlie Asher: I accidentally shagged a monk last night.
Minty Fresh: Sometimes, in times of crisis, that shit cannot be avoided.”
― Christopher Moore, A Dirty Job

“She gave him the wide, green-eyed expression that she would have described as I will slap you so far into next week that it will take a team of surgeons just to get Wednesday out of your ass.” 

― Christopher Moore, You Suck

Write On,

Eerie

SNARK HAS BEEN RETURNED NOW BACK TO WORK

Greetings and salutations loyal followers,

As you probably know by now we found the missing Snark at the Monastery of the Werewolf Monks.  She’s still recovering from drinking all the left over Exsanguinate The Holidays from the Monk’s special reserve.  It’s taken quite a toll on her. The last time I saw her she was in the throes of the DTs.  The good news is she’s in good hands, the Swamp Thing is nursing her back to her former glory and has agreed to counsel her on substance abuse.  The bad news is we lost my muse during the search.  Wicked thought he went for the whites but Mischievous said he was heading into the cellar for amontillado.  So Mischievous and I are going to take the shortcut back to Monastery through THE IMPENETRABLE FORREST and get my muse back.  

Wish us luck because you know there are many hazards to be encountered there.  Last time we ventured there we lost several members of our group to the Killer Koalas, and the time before that we were attacked by Pirahana Humming Birds.  I’ve never seen a Black Tiger, but they say they are most ferocious.   Vampire Tarantulas  drop from the trees and suck you dry.  However it is the only way to get to the Werewolf Monastery in half a day if you don’t drive.  Dwarves aren’t especially good drivers because our feet don’t touch the pedals and we can’t see over the steering wheel.  

Before we leave I need to share with you what I’ve been up to.  I backed off work just a bit and one night I carried a legal pad and pen to bed to make some notes on an idea.  Before you could say Rumplestiltskin I  had eleven hand written pages of a story.  This is what happens when your muse comes to work and your ready for him.  I’ve since started typing it into my Mac.  The message is clear.  If a writer you want to be, then ready you are, and do not flee.  

You’ve heard this before if you write; we don’t write because we can, but because we must.

One last thing I’d like to share, I heard a speaker this weekend who said that Fear and Love are mutually incompatible.  If you fear you cannot love.   And when you love you need not fear.  So fear not.  Go forth and love your fellows.     

This week’s quote comes from SELF-PORTRAIT by David White

“I want to know if you are willing to live, day by day with the consequence of love and the bitter unwanted passion of your sure defeat.  I’ve heard, in that fierce embrace, even the gods speak of God. 

Holiday Merriment with the 7 Evil Dwarves

Once again the 7 Evil Dwarves gathered around the Swamp Gas Fire and exchanged annual gifts of merriment.  Not only is it the one time of the year we cut Smokey a break and bring in our own nourishment, but we also drag along significant others.  Since the Prankster Duo was busy gutting bits of wire and plastic with other miniature humans, my knight in slightly muddy armor and I loaded up with essentials and headed out to trek on over to Smokey’s place.

Me-”Did you get the pies?”

Him-”Yeah. You didn’t have to make them did you?”

Me *snort*- “Please, if the other six wanted to experience a near death experience they’d go taunt Eerie’s Zombies.  I picked those up from Knaves’ End.”

Him *looking very relieved*–”Great.”

We added a couple of new cold steel blades to our outfits, grab the gaily wrapped gifts, leave the hellhound half a boar and some water, set the perimeter defenses and headed down the road. We passed Sunny’s place where a veil of mist swirled in a thick mass.  Poor Sunny, we’ve been trying to get supplies through, but the black hole of chaos is holding her under siege.  We’re going to have to send in a search and rescue team soon and drag her back out.

The cackling of Mischievous’ laughter rings out from above while the moans and shrieks of the Swamp Thing trail behind him.  I can’t quite make out what he has clutched in his talons, but it’s shiny.  One day, the Swamp Thing is going to use him as her Thanksgiving centerpiece.

We pass by the Filet Your Own Deli where my Muse is enjoying her time off and playing a game with the white haired guy sporting a tool belt.  I can see the flash of blades in-between the smack of cards being slapped upside foreheads.  There’s a hungry, evil smile gracing her pale face that sends shivers down my spine, but the old guy just bares his teeth, takes a swig from the old flask at his side and flicks another battered card on the scarred table.  I shake my head as we continue on.

The snap of leather snaking through the air sends me into an instinctive crouch.  Belatedly, I realize that Snarky is just testing out her new bullwhip.  Grumbling softly, I straighten and get a good look at her newest accessory.  Purple…niiiicceee.  I might have to find out where she got that one.

Snarky *checking out the pies in knight in slightly muddy armor arms*–”That better be chocolate.”

Me-”As if there’s any other kind.”

Snarky *narrowing eyes*- “You have two?”

Me – “Nah, offering second option for those of us who OD on sugar today. Sugar Free Apple.”

Snarky *waving a dismissive hand*–”I’ll stick with chocolate.”  A sharp squeal comes from inside her house, and the smile that appears is the same one I’ve seen right before she hands me back my drafts dripping in red. “I need to go check on the ham. See you soon!”

A little further down the road, we pull up short as we watch Eerie fighting over a bottle of Werewolf Hunter’s Moon red with a fairly persistent pair of Zombie twins.

Eerie–”Let go you brainless lump of flesh! Even if your brain was working you couldn’t appreciate this vintage.”

It’s entertaining watching the on-going struggle between my short friend and the Brainless Wonder Duo.  The scuff of boots against gravel announce the arrival of Quirky, Jedi and her other half.

Quirky–”Who’s winning?”

Me-”Not sure yet.”

Jedi-”I’ll put ten on the twins.”

Quirky-”You’re on.”

Me *thinking about the last time Eerie got cornered by the horde*–”I think I’ll just watch.”

Eerie–”A little help here!”

Knight in slightly muddy armor–”I don’t know, this is kind of fun to watch.”

Before anyone else can move, a black feather dive bomber manages to distract Twin 1 by introducing talons to eyeballs.  I grimace.  Those stains are never going to come out.

Me-”Have you considered enrolling your horde in Zombie training courses, Eerie?”

Eerie-”What are they going to teach them? They already know drop dead, gnaw and claw.”

I take the pies from my knight–”We’re going to be late.  Go help.”

He takes out his shiny new sword and cuts the legs out from under Twin 2. Literally.

Eerie stumbles back and cradles his bottle carefully. Smoothing down one of many flyway strands of hair, he’s all dignity.  “Thank you.”

We make it to Smokey’s door without further incidents and his lovely Italian counterpart welcomes us into their home.  The next few hours pass in a blissful haze of food, friends and laughter.  Gifts are exchanged, stories are shared and barbs are traded.

Remember during this busy season–this is what makes the holidays–laughter, love and friendship.

Treasure yours as I do mine!

Merry Holidays everyone!

Wicked

The Greatest Holiday Ever….

Halloween is around the corner and this month zipped by in spectacularly fast fashion.  With little time to spare, I wrangled the Prankster Duo, via a Venus Fly Trap snare, made them leave the head of one of Eerie’s zombies at home, and off we went to shop for costumes.   As we emerged from the Swamp, the youngest pointed out the new signs wallpapering the Impenetrable Forest.  Seems they’re in the midst of working on another deadly…I mean lovely, maze for this year’s celebration.

So we’re at the Aberzombie & Witch when my oldest informs me in funeral tones that this will be his last year of trick-or-treating.

Shocked, all I could manage was a garbled, “Uh?”

Ignoring my eloquence, he continued, “My friends and I discussed this, and this is it for us.”

“You make it sound like your impending demise looms upon the horizon, child. It’s Halloween!”

I never thought I’d get such a look from the fruit of my loins. (Loins, Eerie, not Looms!)  From the Whipmistress?  Hell yeah.  Him? Not so much.  “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Really? Okay, Mr. Daddy Long Legs…let’s think about this for a second.  You’re a boy, a sweet one occasionally, but a pre-teen boy.  Embarrassment is soon to be a way of life for you.  My poor baby.

He added, “Besides, we’ll be in Junior High.”

Ahhh! I get it.  As we leave the familiar halls of elementary school behind and begin to prepare for the hallowed journey to middle school, suddenly “coolness” factors into every decision.  Then it’s on to those oh-so-torturous years of high school.

“Okay then.  But you do realize that mom had no problem donning a wig, goth make-up and heeled boots for her writer’s conference a couple years back.  Remember that?”

He does a damn good eye roll, “Yeah, mom, but you’re…a writer, you’re suppose to be crazy.”

See! My son is brilliant! As I glide through the pride of my son’s keen intellect, my youngest cuts in.  “Mom, they don’t have any Minecraft pig costumes.”

Looking over the selection, I notice he’s absolutely correct.  Nary a piece of bacon in sight.  Unless you count the strangely compelling anatomically correct adult version hanging in the corner.  I gently steer his young, impressionable mind elsewhere.  “Okay, then, what’s your back-up plan?”

“Hmmm….” he studies the offerings with the seriousness of a heart surgeon.  A few minutes later and a decision is made.  I head to the counter, lay out the cash and we’re homeward bound.

Later that night as my knight-in-slightly-muddy armor starts to work on his daily shine-fest, the Duo drag out their costumes.

“Look, Dad? Like the whip?”  For a kid who doesn’t want to trick-or-treat, my oldest hides his excitement fairly well.

“Nice, son,” my  knight checks the workmanship.  “So, Indiana Jones, uh?”

“Yeah, no mask required.”

They’re interrupted as my youngest taps my knight on his shoulder.  “Check it out, Dad!”  The voice is a little muffled behind the mask, but it gets a smile from my knight.

“Niccceeee…I see we stuck with our old stand-by, Star Wars!”

“Yeah, no Minecraft pigs.” Disappointment has our ARF Stormtrooper’s shoulder sagging. But only for a moment.  “But it’s okay, this one has wickedly cool camo!”

As the Duo dart off to harangue the hell-hound, my knight turns to me.  “Does he realize the camo is for snow covered landscapes?”

“Yep, but it’s camo and you know as well as I do, any camo is good camo, as far as he’s concerned.”  From outside our well barricaded cabin, we hear another zombie cage-fight match start up.  I sure wish the Swamp Thing would leave them alone. I double check the locks on the door and make sure the flamethrowers are set.  “Besides, does it matter? It’s Halloween, and isn’t one of the best parts being able to dress up however we want?”

–Wicked

Zombie Population on the Rise

Greetings and Salutations,

I’ve been digging around here in the monastery and I’ve uncovered some remarkable documents.

Brains, brains, brains, brains, brains, brains,

In spite of  the fact that Zombies are openly hunted in most of the country their numbers continue to grow.  It appears from what I’ve read that they’re also getting smarter, faster, and hungrier. This does not bode well for the living.  One other fact that has come to my attention is that they have developed discriminating taste buds.  They no longer stop for day old road kill.  It’s warm brains they want and they won’t be side tracked by a nice juicy thigh, or warm entrails.  What this means for the living is more zombies and less food.  It’s the whole supply versus demand business that politicians and economists like to haul out around election time.  Which by the way is pretty much always now.  But that’s a topic for another blog.

You might find this factoid interesting.  A study in the nation’s capital revealed the zombie per capita on and around the mall is much lower than the national average.  The same is true for the financial district in New York city.  It would appear that brains in these areas are in short supply.  I didn’t need a study to tell me that.

The good news is the folks over at A to Z Ammo have increased their hours to accommodate the over flow business.  Mischievous has been over there doing one minute radio spots for them all week.  They should start airing this week so keep a sharp ear for my good friend Mischievous.  I also heard he’s written a book and it’s scheduled to be released this week.  I can’t believe he got published before me.  I’m just saying.  I mean I’m happy for him and all, but what hell.  He’s been very tight-lipped about it so you’ll have to wait for the release party and book signing like everyone else.  I’m sure I’ll throw a big shindig at the Swamp for him.  So stay tuned.

Back to the zombies.  Remember the zombies?  This is a blog about zombies.  The question that begs to be asked is what’s a breather to do. (breather is the term zombies use for the living) One solution that has been put forth is assimilate.  If you can’t beat them join them.  You all remember the line from Star  Trek: The Next Generation “Resistance is futile.”  For those who think breathers still have something to offer, a career in politics might be your best bet.  Unless your numbers person, then you might prefer to steal honest hard-working American’s retirement funds in a Ponzi scheme.  That’s certainly a something you can aspire to.

As for me and the residents of the swamp we have a symbiosis relationship with zombies.  We attract fresh meat in the form of these stupid blog posts and they leave us alone so we can continue blogging.  I heard the swamp thing is building vacation condos that she going to list on VRBO.(vacation rentals by owner)  I don’t think she plans on returning any deposits if you catch my meaning

That is about all the news that fits the hint.

As is our custom I leave you with this quote from Friedrich Nietzsche.

“Good writers have two things in common: they prefer to be understood rather than admired: and they do not write for knowing and over-acute readers.”

Write On,

Eerie

Acceptable Losses In the Impenetrable Forrest & Editing

Greetings and Salutations,

I hope you’ve recovered by now,  if your just joining us you missed a lovely stroll through the Impenetrable Forrest (what is that noise) that ended in a bloody melee when the Killer Koalas showed up.  Fortunately for us Killer Koalas don’t like to run and Zombies just don’t see a need to run, ever.  So most of our losses were the undead who did a little damage of their own.  It wasn’t pretty.  I’ll bet Raine would have liked it though.  We’ve had a week of the Werewolf Monks unparalleled hospitality and liberal amounts of wine which has a healing quality of its own. 

I’d like to thank Mischievous for the eloquent  job he did with the eulogy for the dead undead.  Wicked has requested we bring back some Blood Red wine for her.  The Monks have recommended the September, 2011 for you Wicked, they said that vintage is still warm.  Mischievous is taking duty-free orders if anyone else has a request.

Last item before we get back to the job at hand.  I was perusing through the dusty books and scrolls in the Vampire section of the monastery.  I’m not talking about those drama queens with their teenage angst  that are the rage today.  This is Vlad Tepes, The Impaler himself, the patriarch of all vampires,  the giver of death, the charming ‘Count Dracula’.  Even more interesting are the journals of The Count’s unwilling acolyte Renfield.  I must say that I’ve been absorbed by the insect-eating mental patient who can see through Dracula’s eyes when he is on the hunt.  It has been most enlightening and more than a little unsettling.  Renfield’s chilling accounts of Dracula’s victims willingly going to him as if sleep walking remind me a little of our zombies. 

Now on the job at hand.   Normally I don’t mind the editing process, but my current struggle is with the whole-sale rewrite I’m involved with.  I’ve mentioned that I had worked my way to chapter ten when I reverted and wrote a new chapter two which caused me revise chapter one.  So here I am three weeks into the eight I had given myself and I’m back to page one.  I know each time through it gets tighter, but time is fleeting.  And my ability to stay focused wanes.  I yearn to move on to something new and yet The Three Misfiteers deserve.  No they demand my attention.  I must say that Wicked’s recent blogs have been helpful as have all the comments from the Evil Six.  And yet I procrastenate.  I’m easily distracted by the shiny ball.  Stepping into week four I have some new insights and a greater resolve.  If your reading along I can only assume your either a writer or a self flagellator.  I can only offer this.  I get more joy out of bad day writing than almost anything else.  Remember that although writing is a lonely job, you are not alone.

Today I’ll leave you with this from Bram Stokers, Dracula.  These are remarks made by Dr. Van Helsing, “I am embarked on a grave duty.”   ” The stake we play for is life and death.”

Funny guy, huh?

Write On,

Eerie

Hells Bells! I’m still editing.

"All clear"

Welcome back, Mischievous is on lookout.  If you’re joining us late, we are trekking through Impenetrable Forrest.(Who is making that noise?)  We’re going to the monastery of the Werewolf Monks once again.  They have the best library and as long as the moon isn’t full, they’re most generous hosts.  They make their own wine which is widely sought after.  It’s sold under the, Howling Monks Winery label.  I prefer the Blood Red variety, but their Oozing White Puss is popular if you’re partial to the whites.  It’s been quiet so far.  Our only casualty has been a slacker at the back of the line, who became a snacker for our Zombie escort.  I warned them to stay together.

Recently, most of the time I’ve spent on my craft has been on editing my novel.  It can be somewhat demoralizing at times.  Just ask Wicked.  Although I’m thankful I’m improving my craft I’m disheartened when after revising ten chapters I’ve returned to chapter two for a major rewrite.  Time spent writing is a labor of love, but sometimes you just want to say ‘enough all ready‘ and move on.  I’ve given myself two months to get this novel reworked and ready for submissions and so I’m committed to sticking with it.  I’m now accepting any positive energy you may have left over.  Thanks as always to my six brethren dwarves who always have an encouraging word (sometimes cloaked in threats).  As in; ‘you better get to work or my whip will.’  With that in mind I think we’ll move on.  I’ve got to rethink my rewrites and add revisions.

Sometimes I feel like Steven Wright lives in my head, and so this week I leave you with Steven Wright.

“I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering.    I received a post card of Earth taken from space, on the back it said, ‘Wish you were here.’    I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of widths.    I bought a house on a one-way dead-end road.  I don’t know how I got here.    If a word in the dictionary were misspelled how would we know?    What’s another word for thesaurus?    I put instant coffee in the micro-wave and almost went back in time.”

Write On,

Eerie

“RUN EERIE RUN.   THE KILLER KOALAS ARE COMING!!!”

Which way Mischievous?

“Follow me”

RUN.  It’s everyman for himself.  See you next week.

THE IMPENETRABLE FORREST (what was that)

Greetings and salutations,

We are taking a break from editing this week to go on a little excursion.  I hope you’re wearing comfy shoes because we’re taking a hike into the Impenetrable Forest (did you hear that).  I know what your thinking.  Our last adventure into the Impenetrable Forrest (there it is again) did not end well.  I know that some of our friends were lost to a flock of Piranha Humming Birds last time.  Settle down people!  In response to the federal government’s insistence on over governing, we’re required to issue personal protection equipment.  Form an orderly line in front of Mischievous to receive your gear.  Tell them what you have today.

“First is this lovely Kevlar jump suit, primarily to protect you against the sharp teeth and powerful jaws of Black Tigers.  One size fits most.  Eerie a little help here.”

Listen up folks, these are not fashion statements; just put them on.  Mischievous do you have a medium extra short?

The Elusive Black Tiger

“Sorry Eerie, they were all out of Dwarf sizes.  You’ll have to roll up the legs.”

Great.  What else do you  have?

“Camo vests.  Designed by the Zombie Corps of Engineers to confuse Piranha Humming Bird swarms.”

Seriously, we have a Zombie Corps of Engineers?

“Eerie you really have to start watching the news.  You are not very informed.  Next folks we have  Giant Vampire Tarantula repellent spray.  Apply this liberally around your head and shoulders using extra care to coat your neck well.  That’s where Giant Vampire Tarantulas are most likely to bite.”

Excuse me Mischievous, I didn’t get a vest.

“Just stay in the middle of the pack, you’ll be fine.  Last we have these little bells to tie onto your shoes.  These are to scare off the Killer Koalas.  There is no defense against the Killer Koalas, but studies have shown they don’t like company.  The theory is that they’ll go the other way when they hear us coming.  Once a Koala is in attack mode there is only one thing that can save you.  Trip the person nearest you and run like hell.”

I thought you were supposed to hold perfectly still and close your  eyes.

“Again you are not up on the latest info.  It turns out that was a propaganda campaign initiated by the K.K.U.”

The KKU?

“Sigh, the Killer Koala Union.  They were trying to get people to stop running away because they hate to run.  That’s why–”

You trip the person nearest you.  I get it now.  I feel a little stupid in this giant jump suit with bells on my shoes.  If you had a funny hat in your bag I’d  look like the court jester.

Mischievous reaches into his bag.  ”Ta daaah.”

I’m not wearing that stupid hat.  ”

“Come on Eerie.   Put it on.”  Mischievous pulls me aside.  ”It will help everyone else forget that they are about to die a horrible death.”

But they have all this great gear.

“Think about it Eerie.  It’s federal issue.  What have the feds done lately that has worked?”

Pretty much everything they’ve done has made matters worse.

“So why do you think these over priced gimmicks  are any different from the health care plan, or the corporate bail outs.”

Good point.  I’m taking this stuff off so I can move faster.  I’m going to make the final announcements.  Stay close to me Mischievous.

Okay everyone; pay attention.  Mischievous and I will lead the way.  Stay close together.   The Zombie horde will be picking up your rear, I mean bringing up  the rear.  There will be one break partway through for necessities.  Other than that, we will keep moving.  Take in the scenery because as you know most people who venture into the impenetrable Forrest (what is that noise?) never live to tell about it.  As always there is no flash photography allowed and no recording devices of any type.  Set your cell phones to silent and follow me.

In the spirit of adventure I leave you with this thought from Mark Twain.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you don’t do than by the things you do.

So throw off the bow lines.  Sail away from the safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore  Dream  Discover”

And Write On,

Eerie