Good Afternoon Ted and Jody:
I guess I slept in again. I think sleeping in is due to the stress of waiting for the cherry blossoms to burst open. If so, the stress is over. The first one opened this morning. I have a photo to prove it. Now I can rest in peace. However, now is the vulnerable time. I can’t spray the tree to prevent pests until the blooms all close or I will endanger bees. As you know bees are endangered. Yet the cherry tree has been susceptible to some insect that in past years has cause leaf curl and blackening. I hit the leave with insecticide and the leaves that develop after are normal. So back to oversleeping because of waiting for the leaf curl and blackening to develop and the blooms to set so I can treat the tree with Sevin™ and not kill bees. I tell you owning a 7-year-old Rainier Cherry tree is nothing but one environmental worry after another environmental worry. If I were a big business I would save the tree and kill the bees and earn dividends for my stockholders and have lobbyists and lawyers to do the worrying for me. Now, where did I put those papers for incorporation?
I got out both last night and this morning for sundown/up photos, but have not had time to stitch them together. Except for blooms, I tend to think in terms of panoramas; so, I take lots of partial scenes these days. I should get some time to do some photo stitching later today.
I heard an NPR analyst talking about what North Korea is up to. Apparently, they think they can threaten the US into sitting down and talking. So, their assessment of the pestilence is that “here is a man we can threaten and get to negotiate.” I think our talking heads need to talk to their talking heads, as their talking heads assessment is not eh assessment of our talking heads. Our talking heads think the pestilence can be figured out and our talking heads seem to think that the pestilence cannot be threatened into negotiating, at least not to make sense. However, the pestilence is finding out that the world is much more complicated than he likes. I wouldn’t put it past him to just simply things now that he as seen what the Mother Of All Bombs can do. To repeat my plea, God help us all.
I trust this finds you happy, healthy and with a sufficient appetite for Easter Dinner. Now, where did I put those papers for incorporation?
Warmest regards, Ed
Fiction in 1169 words by T. Edward Westen, 2017
Andy Kellog leaned his stolen bike up next to the window at The Taritatu Diner across from Dave’s Address of Convenience, ‘Better to keep an eye on it so no one steals it,’ he thought. ‘The kid won’t be home from school till after 5 what with his basketball practice and all.’ Andy looked at his watch, ‘That’s six hours, lots of time, lots of time.’ Entering the Diner, Andy took his customary seat at the counter on the far side so he could watch the street and his cab. Today to watch the bike. When the waitress approached, he waved his hand and said, “Just a cup of java today, Chloe. Got to stay light and trim as they are after me.”
“Who’s they, Andy? Chloe asked.
“Everyone, even my Dad,” replied Andy.
Chloe had moved down the counter, placed a cup in front of Andy and poured coffee in it. “Andy, for goodness sake, your father died 20 years ago. He can’t be after you,” Chloe stated with a strained expression on her face.
“Yes, but his ghost can. They are all yelling for him and while I can’t see him, why else would they yell at him?” said Andy woefully. “Besides someone wrote that I was abducted and that they did sexual things to me. It never happened, I was taken into the future by time travelers and they were nice to me. they asked me nicely, explained what they wanted and how long I would be gone and all they wanted was for me to testify before some kind of tribal thing.”
Andy had started to take a sip f his coffee but stopped when Chloe said, “Nobody believes in time travel, Andy.”
Setting his cup firmly down on the counter Andy asserted, “Well they took me someplace. I didn’t see no calendar, but I testified before a tribal thing about Sylvia Chu, a woman I helped buy an RV and get a driver’s license and about meeting her little girl Jessica Ann.”
Chloe looked confused, “Can you describe this tribal thing you went before?”
“It was a long table with people sitting behind it and a guy with a gavel. I didn’t know Sylvia Chu was twins and I couldn’t tell them apart.” Andy hesitated. “They thanked me and brought me back.”
“Tribunal, Andy, you went before a tribunal,” said, Chloe. “How did you get there and back?”
“That’s what I said a tribal thing.” It was Andy’s turn to look confused, but then he was. “I don’t know how I got there and how I got back. I was here one second and there the next in the blink of an eye. Then coming back, I was there and in another blink of the eye, I was here. But, I didn’t blink I just went from being there to being here. I have no idea in hell how they did it. All I know is there won’t be a job for Andy Kellog in that future. No cars, they just move from here to there. Weird, I tell you no cabs.”
Chloe looked up as a man entered the diner, “Take a seat anyplace. Mr. I’ll be right with you.” Turning to Andy she asked, you want I should get you a fresh cup, that must be cold.”
The Man sat on the stool next to Andy and said, “Hi, Andy. Taking a break.”
Without looking up Andy said, “Can’t work ‘cuse they are after me. I . . .” Andy stopped talking midsentence when he looked up to find Special Agent Fleishman seated next to him. “You got to tell them you are not an alien.”
Special Agent Fleishman chuckled, and asked, “Who says I am an alien?”
“The Enquirer said I was abducted by aliens,” replied Andy, “and they did sexual thins to me, you got to tell them that you are not an alien and you didn’t do sexual things to me.” Andy paused before finishing “did you?”
Special Agent Fleishman shook his head no and said, “Who did you tell about going before the council?”
“No one,” replied Andy. Andy thought for a few seconds and the said, “Maybe that fellow with the briefcase who was on his way to Florida.” Andy thought for a moment, “There was that woman with the baby and the guy who whipped out a notebook and started writing while I took him to someplace down town. I figured he wasn’t listening as he never said a word. Most people say, ‘you don’t say,’ or ‘who would believe it.’ But not him. No I didn’t tell anyone, not really for no one listens to what I say. I remember when I told Corrine about the snake under the porch and it bit her because she didn’t listen. I had to suck the poison out of her ankle before rushing her to the hospital. Then there was the time that . . .”
Special Agent Fleishman interrupted Andy by sliding a photograph in front of him. “Have you ever seen anyone who looks like this woman?”
“Yup, that’s Melissa,” said Andy. “She has the cutest little girl, Jessica Ann. They come here a lot. Jessica Ann is an apprentice waitress to Chloe when her mother goes across the street to pick up mail. Funny, Melissa wears wigs and stuff when she goes across the street. Then she changes right there,” he point ted to a booth by the window.
Chloe turned the photo so she was looking at it right side up and said, “That is a younger Melissa.” With that she turned to photo back around. “What can I get for you, Mr.?”
Special Agent Fleishman asked, “Do you have hot chocolate with marshmallows?”
“This is your lucky day, Mr.” said Chloe. “Do you want it with marshmallows out of the bag or out of the jar?
“Out of a jar?” asked Special Agent Fleishman.
Chloe walked a few feet down the counter, reached under and pulled out a jar of marshmallow cream in a jar. As she returned to where the two men were sitting she pulled a spoon out of her pocket. She opened the jar, place the open jar on the table and stuck the spoon it and pulled up a gob of marshmallow dream which maintained a connection to the contents of the jar as a hot pizza clings to its mozzarella cheese. “This is out of a jar, Mr.”
“If you put it in the cup first, I dare say that would be instant nirvana,” said Special Agent Fleishman.
“I don’t know about nirvana, but it melts faster than the ones out of a bag and it tasted better, if that is possible,’ replied Chloe.
Pointing to the jar of marshmallow cream, Special Agent Fleishman said, “I’ll go with that.” Turning to Andy, and pointing to the photo of Melissa Hickson, he asked, “Does she live around here?”
“Don’t know,” replied Andy. He pointed to Chloe, “Ask her.”