The Space Adventures of Zack Strontium and his Motley Crew: Clouds of Terror! Part One.

"Hit the thermals, I need to get a better reading." Captain Zack Strontium said with a particular command. His granite jaw did all of the talking though. When this man spoke he commanded the room as well as his people. He was built like a Byzantine Cathedral made out of Adamantium*. A periscope lowered in front of him and he pushed his face into the scope. He slowly turned left to right. "Mmm Hmm, Mmm Hmm, I see them. Dumb bastards think they can hide in an interstellar cloud."

Ensign Peabody spoke up, "We'll flush em' out sir!" Peabody was a young recruit, female and cute as a button. She was ferocious behind the wheel though and when the Captain said so, she was eager and out for blood.

"Aye, we will. Back off though, we want them to think we have no idea where they are." The Captain pushed up on the periscope and it rose and snapped into place.

"Aye Captain, continuing the illusion, sir." Peabody gripped the controls like a true pro. She flicked some switches on the console in front of her and the ship slowed with a dying hum.

"I would say, Steady as she goes, but that would be a real cliche' so I'll just say, Steady as she goes." Captain Strontium sat in his enormous captain's chair.

"Very good, Captain."

The Stormer was a class B warship, constructed during the great Nebulon war, now centuries later, it was an ancient relic that was still very capable of causing destruction to its enemies. The Stormer was equipped with a battery of 20 Deck Guns, 14 Ion Cannons and 32 Missile Launchers. She was fast too, a bird of prey that could strike without warning, releasing a rain of fire upon the enemy. She was also equipped with a Streamlined Halcyon Drive capable of Speed of Light travel. But looks could be deceiving. Captain Strontium was hoping that once the Enemy spotted The Stormer that they would be too fear-stricken to notice that the great ship was considerably Ill-equipped for battle. After all, she had recently been stolen.

"Drak'Tar, what do we have in the way of weapons on board?" The Captain queried. A sing songy chime could be heard.

"We have retro-fitted 4 rows of deck guns with Plaz-Spammers, sir." Drak'tar responded.

The Captain coughed to clear his throat. "Um, yes that's great news Drak'tar. Now, can someone tell me what in the great Grantham Moon of Pilznor is a God forsaken Plaz Spammer?"

The resident Information Droid, Four-One-One came to life. The Bronze droid was taught to stay in the very back of the bridge because the Captain was very Droid-phobic especially of droids that looked humanoid in nature, meaning, they scared the shit out of him. Something about the 'Uncanny Valley' he would say in his defense.

"Sir, I do believe--"

"Sweet Jesus, Christ! I forgot you were back there. Whenever I hear that Faux-British accent of yours It nearly makes me piss my flight pants."

"I am quite sorry sir. As to your query, I believe that a Plaz Spammer is a rapid fire mechanism that fires explosive cannisters of molten hot plastic." Four-One-One took a step back into place, He didn't want to startle the Captain again for fear of the same fate that befell his Droid companion Nine-One-One. Nine-One-One was an emergency droid, it's job was to alert the entire crew whenever there simply was an emergency. Many times the Captain wondered what the point was, wouldn't an alarm suffice? Finally the last straw came when Nine-One-One interrupted the Captain's bathroom time to tell him that the commissary was out of napkins . The Captain ejected the droid into deep space while shouting, "Burn in 'Uncanny' Hell you un-godless piece of space shit!" Quite simply, Four-One-One knew his place and he wasn't about to get on the Captain's bad side.

"Plastic cannisters? Why would anyone invent such a stupid thing?" The Captain rubbed his chin.

"Is that a rhetorical question, sir?" Four-One-One asked, but the Captain didn't answer.

"Drak'Tar, do we have any missiles, torpedoes?" A chime sounded again.

"Sir, we have 14 Heck-Fire Stingers loaded in the tubes." Drak'tar shouted. "Ready to fire, on your say so, sir!"

"Copy, and you don't have to shout, there's nothing wrong with the com system."

"COPY THAT, SIR!" The com shrieked.

"Smart ass. Okay, listen up people! We have three, count em' three attack class vessels hiding in some clouds like the pansie's they are. They think they are going to sneak attack us, Ha! Boy, would I like to see them try."

"Sir, the vessels are approaching, they are on our starboard bow, preparing to fire!" Officer Mike 'Snafu' Dumpchuck shouted from his console to the right of Captain Strontium.

"Holy Shit, really?" The Captain glanced at the view-screen in front of him. Sure enough, three shark-like vessels came out of the Stellar Clouds like eager hunters that had just discovered a sunken cruise ship full of obese vacationers. "Evasive maneuvers!"

Ensign Peabody slammed the sticks to the right, the great bird, The Stormer dove. Everyone on the bridge gripped their consoles for dear life.

"I don't get it, I had a whole plan. It was going to be really sneaky, they would've pissed their pants. Why didn't it work?" The Captain squinted, wracking his brain.

"Again, sir, is that a rhetorical question?" Four-One-One asked.

Captain Zack turned his head ever so slightly. "Someone eject that bucket of useless metal into the nearest--"

"Sir, they are firing!" Officer Snafu shouted. An alarm sounded.

Captain Zack scoffed. "I hate that blasted alarm, it gives me a headache." The captain leaned forward to glance at his console, he saw several blips on the screen heading toward The Stormer. "Return fire, shoot those Spaz Plammers at them, now!"

Four-One-One stepped forward, "Sir, I think you mean--"

Now Captain Zack un-holstered his weapon, the Hawg Neutron Nastifier 6000, illegal in 12 systems, it was equipped with a molecular de-stabilizer in it's Xenon crusted hollow point shells. Each shell was coated in an amber that had to be hand scraped with a tiny rock hammer from a rare tree that could only be found on the highest mountain on the furthest moon in the furthest system in the furthest galaxy. Each Bullet cost the Captain roughly the equivalent of one S.T.A.R.** Officer's Majesty's Royal Space Navy's annual salary. The Weapon was also the size of a Voltarion*** Tree Trunk. The Captain took aim at the Four-One-One droid and fired three shots. VAM VAM VAM!

The Info bot never moved, around his chassis were three smoking holes, all in the ships walls behind him. "Oh, dear."

"You're lucky that I can't shoot for shit, Droid!" The Captain holstered his smoking gun.

"Twenty seconds until projectiles reach us, sir!" Snafu shouted. "Plaz Spammers are warming up."

"Warming up? I told you to fire those minutes ago!" The Captain jumped out of his chair, "What the hell is taking so long?"

Four-One-One nearly spoke up, then thought the better of it, and stepped back.

"Sir, the plastic comes in big blocks, the plastic then has to be unpacked and then loaded into the cannons. Then there is a heating element added. After that, sir. It begins to melt."

The Captain stared at Officer Snafu, dumbfounded. "Yes, go on."

"It's a process sir. It takes about," The Officer cleared his throat. "Twenty minutes, sir."

"TWENTY MINUTES?" The Captain and Ensign Peabody and Chup'tal, who had until now, remained relatively silent, being the Captain's personal chef, really didn't need to be on the bridge, but happened to be there at this moment because He/She**** was there to take the crew's lunch order shouted in unison.

Officer Snafu's head sank into his shoulders. A chime could be heard, it was Drak'tar. "twenty minutes?"

A loud crash and then another and another. The Stormer was taking a barrage of enemy torpedoes. The Captain, still standing, gripped his console. "Peabody, shake em'!"

"Aye aye, Captain!" Peabody slammed the sticks left and then right.

Four-One-One activated his foot magnets, staying in place but his upper torso rocked from side to side. "Oh dear, oh dear! This is a nightmare!"

Officer Snafu yelled at the droid. "I thought that Droid's didn't dream."

"We don't, but we certainly have nightmares."

"Pipe down you two. Peabody, can we lose them?" The Captain noticed a lapse in explosions and seized the moment to strap himself into his chair.

"Captain, the Plastic has about 14 minutes left to--"

"Can it, Snaff! Peabody, can we lose them?"

"Aye sir, but not without a distraction." Peabody said while never taking her eyes off the screen. She snap-rolled the ship to the left and then to the right.

"Drak'tar, get those missiles ready, screw the Spaz--"

"Plaz Spammers, sir." Four-One-One risked his droid life to say.

"Yes, those, screw em'. I want missiles!" The Captain could do nothing but sit and wait for confirmation. He saw from the view-screen that the three sharks were closing in fast. "Drak'tar, that Halcyon better be warmed up!"

"Aye Captain, it's just that--" The com died. An explosion erupted from somewhere in the bowels of the ship. "--Captain, there's melted plastic all over the engine room!"

"Damn you, Spaz--"

"Plaz Spa--" VAM VAM VAM! Four-One-One was nearly hit that time. "Phew."

"What does that mean? Can we make the jump to a speed that is fast as light or anywhere close to that amount of speed?" The Captain fumed holstering his weapon.

"Unknown Captain, everything is coated in plastic down here, It's like everything has been baby-proofed."

"By the Spires of Backkamonon's Ghost!" The Captain slammed his fist onto his console. The Captain unstrapped and hit a button on the console, the vid-screen grew twice its size. "Snaff, hail those assholes!"

"Hailing them, sir." Snafu twisted a dial on his computer while holding one ear. "Sir, it's some kind of alien language, I suspect they are aliens." Snafu continued to adjust his single nob, listening very closely to the noise that squawked into his ear, he then noticed that no one on the bridge had said a word in quite some time. He turned to face the rest of the crew and they all stared at him with mouth's collectively agape.

"What an incredible deduction you have made, Snaff. Everyone, could we please give our Officer a hand?" Everyone began to clap, even Peabody who hadn't ever taken a moment to look away from the ships controls released the sticks and gave a sarcastic clap, the ship swayed to the right for a moment and she quickly grabbed the sticks.

A chirp on the com sounded and all that could be heard on Drak'tar's end was a, "Clap, clap, clap."

Ensign Peabody rose from her seat and popped her neck. She made her way over to Snafu's station and calmly pressed his console's translator button. She cleared her throat and turned to take her seat.

"Oh." Snafu said. He began twisting his consoles nob again. "Oh, I can understand them now, sir."

He was smart enough to know not to look at the Captain squarely, so he tried to get an idea of the Captain's reaction from the corner of his eye.

The Captain stared at him blankly. A heat came from him, his face was a hue of red that Snafu never realized could come from a human, only a voltarian she-veastasharian lava whale had even come close to such a hue.

"I'll just," He kept twisting his nob. "Put it up on the screen, hehe."

A deep guttural sound squawked out of the Bridge's sound system. "HO, HO, HO, HO, HO, HO."

"Santa?" The Captain said under his breath.

"Did you really think you could out run a Tanarktarian Finned-Shark Vessel? Captain Strontium, you are very foolish."

"There's something very familiar about that voice."

"Ho, Ho, Ho, it is I, dear Capitan. Silar Sinclair, scourge of the Outer Rings and a damn good Pirate, I might add."

"Damn, you Sinclair, I should have sniffed out your Tanarktarian Stench in this mess."

"That would be impossible sir, there are no smells in deep space." Four-One-One said and then took a step back.

CLICK CLICK CLICK

"Someone reload my pistol." The Captain handed off his Gun to Chup'tal. A loud clank could be heard as it crushed Chup'tal under it's enormous weight.

"I can assure you Captain, that I am willing to be quite reasonable." Silar Sinclair looked liked a Calivuvian Purple Space Rasin that had been in the twin suns for far too long. The Wrinkles on his face looked like a place where Slarp Rats from the Parlivvian Spice Mines would dwell. "Give us the Rods and I will let you live."

Ensign Peabody's head snapped to attention, she then turned to look at the Captain. She whispered, "How the hell does this space slug know about the rods?"

The Captain merely shrugged his shoulders. The Rods were payment for the crews delivery of a very powerful power converter. They had acquired the rods from an aquatic race called the Phishedrixx. The Phishedrixx used beautiful blonde electric mermaids to power their cities. It sounds bad but the mermaids are quite happy with their jobs. When a Phishedrixxian Mermaid charges said Rods they stay charged for years. It is safe clean power that is very valuable to the rest of the galaxy.



T.B.C.

Time

When I was a kid I used to pretend that my Grandma's garage was a time machine. I don't even remember how old I was but I was pretty young, let's go with seven years old. I vaguely remember taking some chalk and drawing a vertical rectangle on the wall, that was the view screen. I think I wrote some random numbers too and a big plus sign in the middle, that was the reticle. I have no idea what was going through my head. Hey, I was a kid. I found an old crutch in the garage. The garage was relatively clean, the house was very old so there was a fair amount of dust and a musty smell, but my Granddaddy kept it clean. I remember there was a shelf of books waaay at the top of a shelf that I would never be able to read. There was a book labled Star Trek by Gene Roddenberry up there that I couldn't possibly get to. I think I knew what Star Trek was because my Uncle loved it. I'm pretty sure that I had seen it. No doubt it was already very old and in syndication at my age.

Now that I think about it, I drew some tiny squares too, they were supposed to be buttons. I tapped at the squares in a random order and announced that I was on my way to, "Dinosaur Times!" I'd hit the make believe button and began to shimmy and shake. I would hold on to something nearby and say, "Whoa." Then I had arrived. As I would open the door that led to my Grandparents back yard, I would hear the hydraulics in the make believe Time Machine Hatch. Before I stepped into the prehistoric jungle, I grabbed my trusty rifle, this rifle was the Crutch that I had found. I held it like I had seen Chuck Connors hold his, He was the Rifleman of course, He knew what he was doing.

Just to the right of the Garage Doorway was the Back Door to my Grandparents house, it led directly to the kitchen or a Space Ship, if you will. That was really a make believe game for another day, today was Time Machine day. I assume now as an adult, that I got this idea from watching too much television, the same thing that I would blame my adult imagination on. I am being mostly facetious but I am also totally serious. Television brought me happiness, it brought me safety. Later on when stuff was going on like my parents divorcing and my Mom dying, I still had television. I had Saturday Morning Cartoons and The A Team and Hunter and Stingray and later The Equalizer. TV was always there for me. TV was my constant. Now, one thing that Grandaddy loved was Westerns, we watched westerns all the time, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, Have Gun Will Travel and again, The Rifleman. Usually on the local UHF stations at the time, when the block of Westerns would end they would show some really bad movies. It may have been The Lost World or something else, but I think I remember a Big Game Hunter wanting to bag himself a T-Rex. I am not talking about the Sequel to Jurassic Park of course, I'm talking about some really bad film from either the late 60's or early 70's.

As a child, I loved guns, I think that most boys do, I loved toy guns, I had all sorts of cap guns, plastic guns that shot these little tiny discs and even ones that shot these tiny yellow beads. Today, the crutch was better, because those tiny handguns would never take down a T-Rex and I knew this Rifle was the only thing to do it. Also, I'm pretty sure I would lose my toys at my Grandma's on a regular basis. I stood on the concrete back porch which had three steps that led down to the patio which led to the green grass of the backyard. Today that green grass was a vast jungle with birds that went, "OOH OOH OOOH OOH AHH AHH AHH AHH" because I had heard those type of sounds on TV. I gripped my trusty rifle close to my chest, Old Bessie had never yet let me down, She would really need to be ready for this task. Tyrannosaurus Rex means Terrible Lizard I believe, so this was some serious stuff.

I made my way to the grass, which was the threshold to the terrible jungle. Giant Mosquitoes could be seen in the distance, I could probably pick one or two of them off with my imaginary scope but I was better off saving my ammo for my real challenge. I raised my weapon and looked left to right for my unsuspecting prey. All I saw was acres of trees and leaves, a dense gathering of green that looked impossible to navigate. This would be quite a challenge. Before I could take a step toward the unknown dangers of the mysterious Jungle I heard my Grandma from behind, "Lunch Time!" Oh no, I needed to speed this up, My Grandma had either made Hot Dogs or a Baloney Sandwich with Kraft Sliced Cheese and Mayo. There would no doubt be Fritos to go along with it. I had to make this quick. Just like that, He appeared. The Mighty T-Rex. He was Mighty, He was fierce and he looked pissed.

He also looked just like the crappy Dinosaur puppets from Land of the Lost, because I was a kid that watched too much television. I raised my Rifle and without hesitation blasted him in the chest. He roared in pain and fell like a falling timber. A loud THOOM and the dust settled. He was dead and I was victorious. I was also starving, so without another second to spare I ran up the back porch stairs, kicked open the garage door, blindly tossed the crutch back inside, slammed the door and made my way into the kitchen. I sat down with my sisters and cousins and ate lunch. We most likely watched As the World Turns with Grandma and soon I had completely forgot about the dead giant in the backyard. No doubt, in my Grandparents old house, where they no longer reside, where nothing resides, it's an old husk of a home, peeling white paint and an overgrown front and backyard, somewhere deep in the thick grass lies the skeleton of a T-Rex.

My Trophy.

a song.

Still Writing.

Hey, what up? Are you digging this shit or what? Or what? See I told you, I have been keeping up with this shit and writing everyday. I am not a liar! I am not an animal! I am Mr. Hugh Mann. Get it? Human. Oh shuttie.

I think it's been a great week of writing. In November I did the Nanowrimo, that's where you write 50,000 words in one month. I'm pretty sure I cheated though. Hehe. I started in October. Hey inspiration had hit. I started writing a story that had been in a my head a long, long time. I did that thing that people do where they always intended to write something. They always just needed to sit down and write, when they found the time. I HAVE NOTHING BUT TIME, Morter Forker(edited*)! Ha! Yes, I have time, I have to make time but I have time to make time. I was doing things like wasting my spare time watching movies or binge watching tv shows or sitting at the computer reading garbage. "If you are not going to write then you should read," is what I would say to myself. I would end up writing an hour a day when I could have possibly written 2 to 3 hours.

Now, I am fully concentrating on writing every single day. It's very important to get that time in. To spend as much time as possible writing and when I am not writing, I need to be reading. So. If I write today which I have then I will allow myself some tv time. I'll watch something but I will be thinking about what I am writing. The more I write the more the words will flow. Hopefully. I'll tell you more about what I am writing later. Until then...

"I don't want to be ignored." said my keyboard. When it said that, I got scared. Real scared.

*Looking at this the following day, I started to wonder what kind of drugs I was on. Too much caffeine apparently.

White

Black. He must open his eyes.

The legs were rusted. The place was damp and it had that metal smell and the metal was mixed with something. There was no light, only what He could see with his tiny micro flashlight. He had no idea that he would be needing a flashlight on this day, he was lucky the he had this tiny one. It was on his key-chain, it had been for years. He thought to himself how lucky it was that it did indeed work after all of this time. The Table or workbench that he had hidden under seemed to be supporting the weight of the rubble that had fallen on top of it. He could see that the legs on the table were very worn and crusted with an orange rust, it didn't look good. The legs already looked bent. They wouldn't hold much longer.

He crawled forward, feeling around on the wet floor. His hands felts a grainy substance, like dirt. Coffee grounds, it felt like. In fact, he could smell coffee. He thought perhaps that he was in some sort of storage area. His light only lit a small diameter. He had to point it exactly at what he needed to see. He was on his knees crouched over. He stuck the tiny light into his mouth, keys jingled against his chin and he didn't feel like he had the time to remove them. He started to crawl forward on his stomach.

He could hear water dripping and the shifting and settling of foundation. The smell of coffee mixed with wood and damp cardboard was overwhelming to his senses, He thought that if he gave it another moments thought, he may suffocate. It was best for him to keep on moving. He could now notice his own breathing, it was labored. He needed to stop thinking about it and he needed to crawl. He lurched forward and bumped his head on something blunt. Black.

Pink.

He felt different now, elevated and he his body was turned over, he was lying on his back. He saw Pink. His eyes were closed and when he realized this, he didn't want to open them. He felt a warmth on his face, A blinding pink. There was a bright light on his face, he could feel it and he didn't want to open his eyes. He thought he must have been knocked unconscious when he hit his head, someone must have found him, He had been saved. He'd better open his eyes. But He didn't want to, not yet.

He noticed the sounds now, the sounds of machines. He could hear a whirring sound and a hiss. It sounded like something was rising and falling over and over. Hiss and then a Push sound. Over and over. It was cold too, outside the area of his head, his feet were cold. The light must have only been on his face but the rest of his body was very cold. Whatever he was laying on though, it was soft, it was comfortable. He must be naked, that's why He was so cold. Where were his clothes? He wondered. Where was he? He wondered.

He must open his eyes. White.

a song.

Dulcet

Diners. Coffee shops, I love the smell of them. I love that smell of coffee. I don't even drink coffee. Maybe it's the atmosphere. Something about those busy places, everything is swarming around you, but you are sitting still. Each booth is its very own plot. It's a place where you are alone and to yourself, nobody bugs you unless it's to take your order or refill your cup. The refills, I love getting refills, I drink a lot. It's not alcohol that I am talking about, but a regular beverage, a soft drink, preferably diet.

I love holding the laminated menu in my hands, I try not to think about how it's never cleaned and how many people have touched it, if I did, I would go and wash my hands repeatedly. I look at everything on the menu, twice, maybe three times. It doesn't matter though, I always order the same thing. Maybe I just like looking at the pictures. I order an Omelet, it's usually loaded with ham and sausage and bell pepper, onions, tomatoes and cheese. I get a side of Hash browns with toast, usually. Some places offer Biscuits and even better places offer a bowl of country gravy with the biscuits. I can't eat all of this but I order it anyway.

While I sit and eat, I sometimes listen to the old folks talk around me. It's always old folks, almost never anyone my age. They talk about weather and sports. Thanks goodness I can't hear them too well. I would hate to hear their opinions on what is becoming of the world or politics. Bring up politics and I tune out. If you want to get through to me, you could mention a film or a tv show. Maybe, even a book. If I don't care to read it, I would love for you to tell me the story. The story is the thing. It's the only thing that matters. What is the hook?

"I was reading a book about this guy, he's totally obsessed with peoples voices."

I set my drink down. I wipe the frost on the glass with my thumb and I look up at you. "Obsessed how?"

You look pleased that I am hooked. "Certain people, not everybody, certain ones, they have this tone to their voice--"

"--Like a dulcet tone?"

You nod in acknowledgment. "Exactly--Pleasing to the ear. This guy sits in public places and he listens."

You trail off as the waitress refills your cup of coffee. I don't drink coffee. I told you that already.

"When the guy finds a voice, when he hears that voice, he closes his eyes. He sees music."

I look down at the table. I contemplate this. "He sees music."

"Yes. He rides on the voices, it's hard to explain. I feel stupid trying to paraphrase but, he is at peace when he hears these voices. He sits and listens to conversations--Oh my god, there is this funny part."

"Wait, wait, don't get ahead of yourself. Tell me about how he rides on the voices."

You sit up straight, you look a little self conscious. I smile, you relax a little. "He sits in a public place, like this. A diner. People come and go. He sits and drinks coffee for hours--"

"I don't drink coffee."

"Yes, I know. But he does. Is that okay?" I nod yes. "Good, you are so silly." I smile. "This guy sometimes sits for hours, for days. Sometimes there is no one there with the right tone, that right tone for him to close his eyes and ride the waves of their voice. To see the notes. He will get frustrated and go to another place, and then another and then start getting really worried that he should have stayed where he was in the first place. He should have waited and he should have been patient because he missed the voice. He missed seeing the notes."

I take a sip of my soda. I break off a piece of toast and chew on it for a moment as I chew on what you have said. "Well I certainly hope that he finally hears a voice, that meets his satisfaction."

You laugh. "Boy does he. It's when he least expects it. Here he has been sitting and waiting, he's had moments where he's heard voices, conversations. He has found a Man that runs a newsstand that has a lovely voice. He loves to sit off to the side and listen as this guy speaks to his customers, to people walking by. He has a waitress that he has found at this expensive eatery, she has a lovely voice. He was there on a business lunch when he heard her. He could barely pay attention to the boring rep that he was with. He's a salesman by the way."

You sip your coffee. You make eye contact to make sure that I am still paying attention. I am still hooked.

"What does he sell?"

"Oh shit, I knew you were going to ask me that." You wrack your brain for a moment. "I'll come back to that. I'm not sure it's even important. OH MY GOD--HEARING AIDS!"

We both laugh and look around, no one seems to have noticed your outburst. "Hearing aids, I would say that's important, or poignant or whatever." I say.

"Yeah, I guess it is. It's like you know that as you are reading it, but then you find something else that you focus on, that you attach yourself too. As you read it..."

"As you ride the wave."

"Exactly. You got it, ride the wave." You smile and lock eyes with me again. "He closes his eyes while this boring rep is talking to him and the woman, the waitress is telling this other table of people what the specials are. He is seized by her voice, it's like it grips him. He closes his eyes and he everything else in the restaurant dims, he can only hear her voice, as she says the word "Parmesan" he shivers."

I laugh. "I like that way you just did that, say it again."

"Parm-ee-shawn." You giggle.

"Boo, you're too self conscious now."

"Oh shut up. Anyway, he's in this like pure ecstasy." You laugh and turn bright red. "Stop looking at me like that.

I get self conscious. "Like what? I'm just listening over hear."

"Your eyebrows shot up when I said, ecstasy."

I close my eyes. "Oh yeah, say that again, the way you said Parm-ee-zaaaan." Something hits me in the face. I open my eyes and see that you have thrown your balled up napkin at me. It now sits in my bowl of gravy.

You laugh even louder. "I did not mean for that to happen." Your laughter has become infectious and I can't help but laugh with you.

I am laughing so hard that tears are forming in the corners of my eyes the way that they do. "Okay, keep telling me the story. Then what happens?" I lean forward dramatically and rest my elbow on the table and plant my chin firmly on the palm of my hand with dramatic purpose. You look around you, fumbling around for an object.

"I need to find something else to throw at you." I laugh again.

"Okay truce. Come on, what happens to this guy?"

"What happens to him? Oh gosh, let's see." You take a big gulp of coffee and swish it around in your mouth and then swallow it in a nice gulp sound. You smile at me.

"You okay, everything okay over there?"

"Shut up. But I really need to silent burp, so give me a second." You look like you are concentrating really hard.

"By all means, take your time." I now place my left arm elbow on the table and rest the full weight of my head on both hands eagerly anticipating the belch.

You cock your head at me in that way that you do. That 'I'm going to kill you but I love you' way. You close your eyes and then exhale. You take a few labored breaths. "Okay, that's better." You stare at me, you look like you are looking for approval.

I can only stare at you and smile. I hope it doesn't look like I am smirking, because I am not. I just got one of those funny tingles. The kind that come on when you have witnessed someone do something totally human. Somehow they pulled off being beautiful while doing something as gross as a belch. You are endearing. "Go on, the story."

You nod in acknowledgment. "This guy, the main character, he--"

"What's his name?"

You think for a moment. "His name is 'T', just the letter T. It's kinda weird, I'm sure it stands for something."

"Like Tremolo or something?"

You have no idea what I'm talking about. "I wouldn't think about it too hard, it's not that important."

"It could be, but go on."

"Yes, it could be, but shut up so I can think. So I can remember."

My brow lowers in contemplation. "Wait a second, you are totally making this up, aren't you?"

"Oh, I am not, I am not."

"You are so busted, there is no book, this is all being made up on the top of your head." You make a playful angry face at me.

"This is a fucking book, I swear to god. Okay?" You look at me, waiting for agreement.

"Okay, jeez, I was just kidding anyway. You just looked like you were really straining with what comes next. If you say it's a book, it's a book."

"Yes, it's a book. I may have not written it yet, but it's a book."

My jaw drops open. Your face feigns surprise. "Busted!"

"Oh my god, are you serious, you were making all of that up? I was totally riveted."

"I have had the idea for years, I just need to write it. I just need to take the time to jot it down." You are blushing now. "You aren't mad at me are you?"

I shake my head no. "You had me, you really had me going. You should write that, I would read it."

Now you rest your hands on your palms. "Really, tell me more!"

"Oh you want more compliments? I was riveted, on the edge of my seat. I laughed, I cried. I..." I look around at the table, "I got a napkin in my gravy."

You laugh and stare at me in that way again. "Yeah, I'm going to write it. Someday."

"Where did you get the idea?"

You look to your left, out the window. Cars drive past, people walk by on the sidewalk. You have gone off somewhere else. "My Mother. She had the most beautiful voice. I miss hearing it. It had this calming effect." You sigh. "It doesn't matter how much things were screwed up, how much I messed anything up in my life. My Mom could speak to me for five minutes and everything would go from too intense, too insane, too wound up to calm. She had that way about her. She was a calming force."

I can only stare at you.

"What made me think of the story was the time that I found out I was going to lose my job and my apartment in the same week. You remember that, right?"

I nod. "Sure."

"Yeah, it was stressful. To say the least. My Mom is no longer with us as you also know. I was stuck at work knowing that I wouldn't be working there much longer and I had this friend I was going to be staying with very shortly. That one with all the cats. Oh man, I wasn't looking forward to any of it. I was freaking out, I was losing it. I would go to the bathroom and cry in the stall. I just needed to speak to my Mom. I just needed five minutes on the phone with her and everything would be okay, you know?"

I nod again. You shift around in your seat, you look a little uncomfortable. "You okay?"

You smile and then frown a little. "Yeah, but I warn you, I may tear up at this next part."

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me this, you know?"

You smile at me again. "No it's not that, it's a good cry. I told my Mom one time that she made me feel safe, she made me feel calm. I told her about how just speaking to her made me feel better. I was like Ten when I told her this. She rubbed the back of my head and she said that I did the same for her. I asked her what she meant and she said that when I came home from school and told her about my day, it was her favorite part of the day. She said that when I sat at the kitchen table with all of my crayons and coloring books, just hearing the scribbling sound made her feel happy. Calm. It made her feel like everything was going to be okay."

You are starting to tear up a little now.

"I thought, maybe I can go and find someone with a voice like my mom, I would write down what I would need for them to say, to say the exact words that I needed to hear and I could record it. I don't have any recordings of my Mother. I wish I did. If I could find this stranger, I would beg them to do it. I could play the tape whenever I am freaking out."

You look at me, I am indeed listening.

"That idea lasted for about five minutes." You laugh and motion for my napkin, yours is in my gravy. I hand it to you and you wipe your tears away. "But you know what I did? How I made it all better?"

"You found someone?"

You laugh, "No."

I feel defensive all of a sudden. "Okay, just asking."

"No, I mean. No. I didn't find anyone to record me a message. I went to the drugstore and bought a stack of coloring books. I bought one of those giant boxes of crayons too. I did it on my lunch break. I mean I was going to be laid off or fired anyway. Call it whatever you want, I was going to not have a job there anymore. So I went back to my desk and started coloring. I colored Scooby Doo, I colored Care Bears and Sesame Street Characters. People probably thought I was nuts. But I did it, I did it till I was calm. Till I could hear nothing but the scribbles. That scribbling sound you hear when you color. There's a rhythm that you get into. You breathe and you color and just like that, I was there at the kitchen table, with my Mom. All was right in the world. I was calm."

The waitress brings the check. You start to reach for it but I grab it. "Nope, I got this. Thank you for the story."

You hold both hands over your heart. "Oh, what a guy."

"Yes, yes, I'm quite a gentleman."

"Oh, please."

I stand and stretch my legs. "I think I'm supposed to pay at the counter." I look up ahead, sure enough there is a register, these Diners and Coffee shops are all different, some make you pay at the front, some of them you can pay your waitress. "Hey, what are you going to call it?"

"Call what?"

"Your story, your book?"

"Oh," You look around, you look up at the ceiling. "DULCET!"

I flinch at your shout and laugh. "Perfect."

a song.

The Leap

Come. See me. On a Cliff. We can jump. Together.

That is what I told you. Long ago.

That's all I wanted. That's all that I ever wanted. Some one else to be there. Let's take that leap together. How great would it be, to feel that wind against our faces? How freeing it would be. The sweat on my brow, I lick my lips, I can taste the salt. I am not thinking about me though. I am thinking of you. Are you here because you want to be or are you here to prevent me from doing what we both know what must be done? We must take that leap together, otherwise all you will see below is something you will no longer recognize. You look like you are here because you want to be, I have to believe that is true, because if not, it's all for naught.

Why am I shaking? My hands are trembling. It is so cold, would you please embrace me and keep me warm. Put your hands around me and pull me tight, close your eyes if you have to but I would prefer we stare each other in the eyes. Look at me. Do you not see the honesty on my face? I am here for you right now, I have been standing here all along, waiting for you. Thank you for coming.

My heart is beating so fast, I can feel my chest's rhythm. Thump Thump Thump. It goes and rocks us back and forth. I place my palm in the center of your chest and I can feel yours is beating too. It's beating so fast. Is that for me? Does your heart beat for me? Because mine has been beating for you, all of this time. I have been waiting. All this time.

There's no fear anymore, it went away when I saw that you had arrived. Thank goodness you are here, I almost lost my nerve, I only tell you that because I try to be honest. It would be a lie to say I stood here all this time and didn't dream of another life, of going somewhere else. You made me wait a long time but I knew where I had to be, I had to be patient. I was and here we are.

I saw you smiling once. But it wasn't for me. I was so jealous of whoever that smile was for. It made me into something I didn't want to be. I always thought I was a good one. But why was something so beautiful making me so ugly? I wanted all the smiles to be for me. I knew that they couldn't so I told you to go away. I told you that you would be better off not knowing a creature like me. A foul creature. Lurking under rocks and caves, hiding in shadows and living in the damp places where the bugs crawl. It was so pretty once, it was like blooming flowers and white fluffy clouds but it somehow turned into out of tune pianos and the sounds of people falling down stairs. That music that I could hear, only I could hear it playing and you were becoming a distant memory. I could barely hear your whisper anymore. I welcomed the music because I didn't want to be reminded that you didn't want to jump. Not with me, with someone else. You smiled at someone else. I could read the body and I could tell it didn't want me anymore. There was no point in letting you keep coming around. There was no point in delaying what you had been delaying because you didn't want to hurt me. I knew what you were doing and part of me pathetically wanted to keep playing that game. At least I could go on seeing you. But there was too much pain involved. Oh my God, to smell you, to feel you leaning against me. To have your hair in my face. My heart wasn't ready to hurt this much. It never would be. It was something to hold on to, once it beats like that, you don't want it to go back to the way it was. You don't want to go back to sleep. That's what I was, asleep.

I embraced the darkness when you left, what was the point of doing otherwise? You were gone and it was time to make my heart stop feeling. It was feeling too much. It had been locked up tight before you came, it was wrapped in chains and padlocked and there was no key. At least I thought. You picked the lock or you had the key, a skeleton key? Stop that. A skeleton key. Stop it. You can do this to whoever you want, can't you? No, don't think like that. You were just having fun, you were playing a game. I'm telling you, don't go down this path. I am already there. I am not worth your time. Yes you are. No I am not. Silly, why don't you remember the good things? Were there good things?

There were many good things. The conversations, the company and the music.

The music.

Yes, now you remember. It didn't just play for you, it played for both of us. I do remember. Yes. See, I was there for you, I was with you because I wanted to be. Oh man, it was great, wasn't it? It was. Things like that can't last though, can they? No, they are like the perfect sunset, they are like forces of nature. They come and they change everything, they destroy and then things go back to normal but they are never exactly the way they were before. It was a tempest. I was the only one who was destroyed. That is not true. I was carried away by that tempest. That's why it was so hard, I knew I would be carried away and you knew it too. I wasn't going to be around for very long, I was there long enough to change you and I. You were changed too? Yes, I was forever changed knowing you. So was I. I remember your laugh. I remember yours. Thank you for explaining things to me. You're welcome. I'm tearing up now. Why? You are smiling at me. It's all for me. Yes, it is, all for you. Thank you. Don't mention it.

I can feel the sun warming our bodies, My back feels so warm. Your face is glowing. Thank you. There is no need to thank me.

Are you ready? Ready for what? You know, to take that leap. I took that leap a long time ago, silly.

My heart is beating so fast. It beats for you and I am no longer afraid of what lies over the edge. I think that means that it is time to go. No.

What do you mean, no? I think I need to do this alone. You think? Yes. N'est-ce pas? Sometimes. I close my eyes and I jump and I feel the air in my hair and the sweat and tears on my cheeks and wait for what comes next.

I realize that you never let go, we jumped together. Thank you. Can you hear that? The birds are singing our song.

a song.

Day One in my Brain

It's been a long ass time since I have posted anything on this blog of substance. Yes, I am being kind just throwing that word 'substance' in there, just pretend like I don't know what it really means and keep on reading. I have been this big ball of emo lately, wtf is wrong with me? I have been got in tha' feels. Just go with me here, okay?

The Jaybo gots to write and get this shit out. I am the king of fail. I was gonna write 'Big Fail' but I believe it is 'Epic Fail' but see wouldn't that have been genius if I had written Big Fail when I meant Epic Fail? Genius. Oh the Irony. Is it healthy to tell yourself to shut up while looking in the mirror at yourself? I feel too much.
I have been writing a novel, yep. A freaking novel. What a novel idea! Shut up. Sorry, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a glass of Shasta(tm).

There was once upon an hour that I wanted to be an artist, a comic book artist, I wanted to be a guy who held a pencil and drew pictures. People would look at those pictures and at the very least not throw it in the garbage. (What kind of jerk would do that?) But I stopped drawing, maybe I will tell you why sometime. I'm not sure that I even know. What I am trying to get to is that I have always enjoyed writing to an extent but I ain't much for fancy words and punctuation marks and stuff. I have been that guy that reads books and will go and see how a certain author structured a sentence, I am not plagiarizing words I am copying commas. Ha! What a jack ass! What? Sorry I saw my reflection again in my fancy smart phone. But anyway, I am going to be writing in this blog from now on. Every single goddamn day, from now on. Hell yes I am. The reason I am going to do that is that I need a rhythm going. A flowing of words. Maybe I will get better from day to day writing my thoughts. That's what I mainly want to achieve, I want you to read my thoughts. I need for someone to see what's going on up in here.

Why? I have no idea. It just seems like it would be a good form of therapy. What do you want me to do, bother the people that love me and see me everyday? Wow, do you know how old that would get? "Hey you guys, I am all feeling emotions and stuff, can I talk about it?" Do you know what I would hear after the first week? A collective "SIGH." Haha, I may be full of shit, but I need a reason to write, don't I? Oh, you don't? Well shit, what was the point of all of this? Oh, there was no point, there doesn't need to be a point, I just need to barf it all up on the page. I need some ventilation. BLAM! No, don't worry I didn't shoot myself, I only typed the word BLAM! in all caps for an effect. Pretty good huh?

If you stick around, I will tell you about stuff from my life. Only if you stick around, if you up and leave then I will sit on a curb in the rain with an old cassette walkman and listen to some old A-Ha or Depeche Mode tapes and cry. You won't know I'm crying because I'm sitting in the rain. See?

I will tell you about the first time I fell in love, I will tell you about the first time I became self aware (last year sometime), I will tell you things you don't want to know that I need to get out of me. I will tell you about the times that I hate myself for giving phony smiles and phony laughs. That goddamn insecurity and debilitating shyness that has kept me from being who I have wanted to be for so long. What did I want to be? The fucking man, that's who. A mack daddy pimp. Seriously, I got nuthin'.

I will give you one thing in this first post back. The birth of The Jastrom. Jason Walstrom morphed together is Jas trom = Jastrom. Pretty wicked awesome huh? Yeah I thought so, you are impressed. You are mouthing the word 'Wow' right now. I have got you hooked, yep, you are coming back for sure.

Even though I quite enjoy writing, I think that there is the self conciousness that comes with it, and it's not about what I am writing, it's punctuation. Can I be like Cormac McCarthy and not give a shit? Oh, I can? Oh wait, I think I need to be established first. Maybe one day someone will say, wow that dude sure can tell a story but his punctuation is for shit. Boo, get him out of here. Until then, I will keep trying. I guess.

This is how I feel. Have you ever been listening to a song, and the song just speaks to you, I mean you can choose any mood you have on any day of the week and make this song fit with what you are experiencing? For instance, you feel like shit and this song cheers you up. the next day you are happy and you crank that song and you are high on joy and singing it in your car at the top of your lungs. The song becomes your friend, it knows you, it helps you breathe, that song is now a part of you. Do you know what sucks? You can't share that with anybody, not in the same way. You can play the song for them and they might appreciate it or dismiss it but the things you feel while that song plays are for you and only you and you are a planet to yourself. It's sad in a way. It's also pleasant in a way. It just is what it is. That is fucking life. A song you want everyone else to dance to but they can't fucking hear it. You are wearing your earbuds or headphones(does anyone wear headphones anymore? Oh yeah BEATS(tm) by Dr. Dre' -- is that guy really a doctor? -- but I digress) and you are tapping your feet but no one knows what you are listening to.

We can share, we can try to tell someone, sometimes they take it and make it there own, which is awesome. I think I am getting in the way of my symbolism here but you get the idea. Oh you don't? I can't help you man, like I told you I have to practice expressing my thoughts and this is day 1. Check back with me in a year, okay? Thanks.

This is day one in my brain, I hope that you enjoyed it. I hope it wasn't all too unpleasant. ;)

For you: One of those songs, I was talking about. a Song