Tim Wheat's Blog, page 3

The longest day...

Ok, announcements.  First things first.  Buy Ma'iitso Rises.  Its currently only $2.99 on Amazon and $2.49 through timwheatbooks.com   It would be even awesomer if you purchased a signed hardback or paperback via the easy to find links conveniently located above.  Lastly I did roll out some old music last week via the Music navigation at the top of the page.  Its free to listen, cheap to download, and heavier than the Phoenix Cluster.  What's the Phoenix Cluster you say?  Just the most massive galaxy cluster ever discovered weighing in at approximately 2.5 quadrillion times the mass of our sun which is 1.9891 x 10tothe30th kilograms.  My blog fonts don't support scientific notation so I'm just going to use real numbers from here on out, they're much more impressive anyway.  So, to recap, the mass of the sun is 1,989,100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 kilograms.  Then we take that times 2,500,000,000,000,000 which means the mass of the Phoenix Cluster is 49,727,500,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 Kilograms.  Let's convert that to pounds and we get 109,630,371,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 lbs which would be how many tons?  548,167,903,333,333,333,333,333,333,333,333,333,333,333,333,333,333 with that little infinity line over the top of the 3, which my blog fonts don't support either.  Weak.  Anyway, that last number is in the hundreds of quindecillions and the music on the Music page is just slightly heavier than that.  Perhaps a short way into the sexdecillions.  Beware.  I told you we were going to be learning today.  On to the blog!  Or are we already there?

sale








Ma'iitso Rises Paperback



14.99 16.99





Quantity:Add To Cart




























Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy



30.00





Quantity:Add To Cart

June 6, 1944

Ronald James McTiernan was a second generation baseball loving American from Hawthorne, Nebraska.  He breathed deeply and shifted the uncomfortable 75 pound pack that dug into his shoulder blades.  At 5'8" and 144 pounds he wasn't the largest guy around, but he wasn't the smallest either.  The gear was heavy for everyone and the fact that they'd been waterlogged the last 300 yards hadn't helped the situation.  Immediately to his left a man wretched as the bow of the Higgins boat dutifully parted the channel's blue-gray waves.  

Ron, or as the boys back home called him, Ronnie, nervously checked the clip of his M1 Garand for what seemed the thousandth time.  It was ready.  Everything was ready.  It all had to be ready.  He looked up in time to catch a nervous grin from his good friend Sweet Lou.  They had been together through basic training and all through England.  Only a couple of weeks before they had been pursuing British women and antagonizing British men.  Now, though, they stood packed in the tight metal canister with 34 other green U.S. soldiers about to be baptized in blood.  

"Listen up."  Lieutenant Coffey barked the orders as Ronnie suddenly became aware of the tremendous din that surrounded them all.  "One minute out!  Stay tight.  Stay down.  Get onshore and to the rally point to wait for my orders.  Them krauts are gonna be breathin fire on ya, but you gotta get to that rally point!  Remember your training and be safe.  God bless ya boys."

A shell exploded just to the port of the vessel and water sprayed over the men.  Ronnie shivered again, shuffled his feet, and took solace in the Lieutenant's demeanor.  The man showed nary a hint of trepidation or fear.  He seemed more confident in success than if they were going for a three mile hike with no pack.  Ronnie couldn't remember the last time he had trained without that infernal pack.

Allied Naval vessels and Air Force planes had pounded the landing zone for nearly 35 minutes with over 5000 artillery rounds and 10,000 tons of bombs.  Intel indicated that the Germans were a bit sparse in the area and the beating had certainly softened them up a bit.  Multiple explosions surrounded the Higgins, which rocked the boat side to side and soaked the men once again, yet the machine dutifully powered forward.  Ronnie looked to the dreary sky above.  Gray clouds  were dotted with the black puffs of smoke from anti-aircraft fire and he became supremely aware that other than the drone of their 225hp diesel, things had suddenly become very quiet.

"Ten seconds!"  The Lieutenant's voice somehow echoed between the sardine can walls as he turned and made his final order to the coxswain.  "Let her down.  Let's get in the war boys!"

Then it began.

Machine gun fire strafed the front of the landing craft as the door dropped for the men to exit.  Ronnie watched as the Lieutenant's head took the first wave of bullets, causing his appendages to spastically flail wildly as electrical pulses fired throughout the body below.  He winced as the men ahead were mowed down, one on top of the other.  Almost frozen in time the tracers methodically entered the front of the boat ruthlessly destroying nearly every man he had called a pal.  A wave of blood and bits of flesh immediately covered his face and he frantically removed the pieces of his friends.  What was this?  How could this really be happening?

"Ronnie!  Ronnie!"

Private Ronald James McTiernan had never been in battle before and had wondered what effect it would have on him.  He blankly stared at his best buddy who was covered in blood and had a sizable piece of brain fixed to his helmet.  Ronnie blinked and took in the gory site of his closest comrade.  They were the last two left.

"They're reloading Ronnie!  We've gotta go."

As if on cue, another German machine gun nest opened fire on the hapless boat.  Rounds slammed into the steel sides of the small craft and thumped as they penetrated the dead men stacked just behind the ramp.  Ronnie snapped from his reverie and ducked behind the pile of dead bodies, followed quickly by Lou.  His friends had sacrificed their own lives so that he could now survive.  A few seconds passed and the immediate danger seemed to go with it.  

"Over the side Lou!"  He shouted above the unyielding din that seemed to beat him to his very core.  "Our best bet is over the side!"

Ronnie exited the craft, hit the frigid water of the English Channel and immediately found himself sinking to the bottom.  They were supposed to be in knee deep surf, but that obviously wasn't the case.  He opened his eyes and blinked hard.  The salt water stung slightly and he struggled mightily to his feet, jumping toward the surface while pulling hard with his arms.  Round after round of enemy fire pierced the water and zipped past.  He was a good swimmer, but as his lungs screamed for air he hadn't made an inch of headway.  A decision had to be made, and it was simple.  The pack had to go.

Quickly, as he had done hundreds of times before, Ronnie shed the burdensome pack while holding onto the 30.06 Springfield.  He wasn't about to wade ashore unarmed.  His encumbrance relieved, the young man pushed mightily to the surface.  The relative quiet of the ocean disappeared as his head shot above the waves and he greedily gulped lungs full of air.  An explosion to his left sent red frothy water cascading over his head and he instinctively swam for the beach.

Ronnie put his feet down on the ocean floor below and began pushing his way to shore.  Bodies floated everywhere and he collected their blood stained clips along with frag grenades as he went.  Ahead lay Omaha beach.  It was a wide sandy area and McTiernan imagined it would have been a nice place to visit under other circumstances.  At each end sheer cliffs raised from the ocean, nearly perpendicular to the water, and behind the beach a 150 foot bluff gave the Germans a bird's eye view of the killing field.

"Fish in a barrel."  The words were lost to the surrounding chaos almost the instant they left his mouth. 

Ducking behind a twisted piece of metal which had been damaged from the shelling, Ronnie gathered himself for the push forward.  Men were dying everywhere he looked, though a few seemed to be grouping thirty yards ahead.  The Germans had fortified the bluff while riddling the water and beach with obstacles, making the direct assault nearly suicidal.  Ronnie turned and observed the armor floundering in the channel.  Almost none of the amphibious tanks appeared to be entering the battle.  So much for rolling cover.

"Private!"  Ronnie instinctively saluted the Lieutenant now shouting at him while pointing at a specific spot on the beach.  "Keep grabbing those frag grenades and get yourself up against that natural seawall."

Pandemonium surrounded the young man from Nebraska, but he now had a direct order and a purpose.  Determined not to let his new commander down the former standout baseball star collected frag grenades from dead men as he went, covering ground as quickly as he dared.  Then he was there.

"Ronnie!"

"Lou!"

"I thought I lost you in the channel!"

Sweet Lou's voice was music to his ears.  Somehow he had forgotten about his best friend in all the ruckus.

"What are we doing now Lou?"

A heavy explosion rained white sand down on the dozen men huddled together against the natural barrier.  Nearby another group of GI's peaked above the terrain and were greeted with heavy machine gun fire.  The Lieutenant Ronnie had taken orders from slammed his body into the powdery earth, a slight grunt expelling from his lungs.  

"Private!  We have to do something about those machine gun nests.  Do you think you can get any of those frag grenades up there?"

Ronnie smiled as he took notice of the enemy position nearly 150 feet away.

"I'll put em down their throats sir!"

"Do it."

Adrenaline surged through the young man's body.  He had never been so close to death and yet he had never felt so alive.  Ronnie stood, pulled the pin on one of the grenades and heaved it with every bit of energy he could muster.  Before he knew what was even happening he had done the same with two more.  The 1 lb 5 oz MkII grenades, known as iron pineapples for their resemblance to the tropical fruit, sailed through the air as Ronnie foolishly stood and watched.  Bullets whizzed past him from every direction and then he saw it.

Two of the grenades bounced harmlessly off the enemy's fortified position, but one found its mark, dropping neatly through the concrete bunker's window.  The subsequent explosion brought a small amount of relief from the constant rate of fire as Ronnie confidently stood and heaved six more pineapples at the nearby nests.  Three of the weapons hit their mark and a roar went up among the men at their first small victory.  

The day had just begun, but Ronnie McTiernan somehow felt like he was meant to survive.  As the Lieutenant barked orders Ron leaned heavily against the moist sand.  Absolute carnage surrounded him, but inside he felt at peace.  It was truly the longest day.

[image error]

"If Higgins had not designed and built those LCVPs (Landing Craft Vehicle and Personnel), we never could have landed over an open beach. The whole strategy of the war would have been different."  President and Allied Supreme Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower

Sixty years ago this Friday Operation Overlord and the go ahead for D-Day was ordered by General Dwight D. Eisenhower.  Private Ronald James McTiernan and his story is a figment of my imagination, but the situations he faced and the facts/descriptions told are based off live accounts and research.  The average American soldier was 5'8" and weighed 144 lbs.  The U.S. really dropped 10,000 tons of bombs in the 35 minutes preceding the battle.  The Higgins boat was the name of the U.S. landing craft, and there is really so much more I'd love to put in there, but my blog can't be 100k words.  Maybe I'll do a book about it someday.  Something I don't think people usually realize is that unlike many war stories the story of Omaha Beach often gets watered down with time.  Even the fictional account above is considerably less gory and terrifying than the actual event.  Omaha Beach was a natural landing area and unlike some of the other beaches the Germans had it well defended.  Men who survived the battle acknowledge that despite occasional small victories and moments of heroism, the day was anything but won.  Many played dead in the surf until nightfall, holding only their nose and mouth above the water.  Others huddled behind German obstacles and were eventually picked off by the enemy guns.  It was truly hell on earth.

[image error]

Modern day view from the east on Omaha Beach.  From here the German known as "The Beast of Omaha Beach" hunkered in machine gun nest WN62 and was constantly resupplied for hours.  He is single-handedly credited for an estimated 1000+ American deaths in the easy red and fox green sectors of the beach.

With the recent Memorial Day celebration and the upcoming 60th anniversary of D-day this just seemed like a good 1579 words to write.  World War II and the stories real men have told about it have always been of interest to me and I am genuinely grateful they were brave enough to endure the hardships they faced.  Their sacrifice will never be lost on me and when I think about the battles they waged, lost, and won, I almost always think of them the way that I told this story.  Perhaps that's why I love history so much.  It really is a living breathing record of times gone by, not just dates/times/names/places to be memorized.  Actual people with actual thoughts and feelings lived through this and that's something we shouldn't forget.  I hope the truths found in the fictional depiction above were intriguing, but also hope that maybe you learned a couple things you didn't know before.  I grabbed a lot of my facts (that I didn't know already) from The National World War II Museum.  There is a lot of good info there.  Thanks for reading everyone!

Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button or icons above.  Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel?  Hit the donate button below!  Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback?  Those are linked right here too!   Oh yeah.  FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48!  Thanks!

Donate

Dodo bird. It's what's for dinner.

Yeah, I know this is timwheatBOOKS.com, but guess what?  I write music too.  As of right now I only have my three heaviest projects on the Music page, but as time allows I'll be posting more.  I should have a little bit of something for everyone, although I don't really delve into boy band type stuff, or rap, but i would like to write a techno album someday, I just haven't saved up enough glow sticks or pacifiers yet.  Anyway, three albums are up over there.  The first is from the Absolute Zero days, which actually had the material done for the second album, it just needs to be put back together again, which maybe I'll do one of these days, followed by Counterstrike, and then my solo metal project Anarchosis.  They'll be available for streaming at no cost for the rest of time, or until I die, or run out of money to pay my web-hosting bill.  If you really like one or all of them they'll be available to download for the paltry sum of $3.99 per album and will be a downloadable rar file, and then you can put the mp3's on all your devices and listen to me 24/7.  It'll be awesome.  Onto the blog!

Does anyone read this blog?  My site statistics say they do.  My site statistics say that a number of you do, but obviously if you don't, you'll never see this, so I guess you can shove it, unless you are reading this, then thanks for coming!  The numbers vary from week to week and if something bad happens to me those blogs seem to really take off, but I'll be honest, I don't particularly care for bad things happening to me.  I prefer writing blogs like The Story of My Life.  Naked and Afraid With One Direction and Justin Bieber (which gets a surprising number of hits when someone types in "one direction guys naked" or "justin bieber naked" into google.  Not millions, but not zero either.)  and Bling, Bling Pinky Ring.  That's a Billion With a B Son.  Do I normally talk like that?  Nope.  Am I actually talking?  Nope.  I'm typing.  

So, as I formulate ideas for what I'm going to blog about from week to week I take a number of things into account.  

1.  Do people actually care what I have to say?  The answer to this question is, generally speaking, no, and that's fine.  Out of the 6+ billion people in the world I'm lucky to get 200 readers a week, last week's procured about 70, and I've peaked at just north of 1200.  Those would be good numbers if I were the leader of a cult and had complete control over those 50-200 people's minds, but let's not mince words here.  I couldn't even get a single person to leave me an Amazon review a couple weeks ago, let alone convince them to drink the kool-aid or become my personal slaves so that I can siphon off their hard working dollars and buy myself gold toilet bowls that I have filled with bottles of Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modigliani water for the paltry sum of $60,000 per 750 ml by my specialized toilet tank/bowl filler guys.  Slackers.

2.  Is there a purpose to writing this blog?  The official purpose of a blog is to connect with readers and convince them that they like you and want to buy stuff from you.  So far I've been most able to convince people who already like me to continue liking me, although I seriously doubt that they would have stopped liking me just because I don't write the blog.  I could probably send them a text once a year or two and stay just as relevant.  I've actually contemplated stopping writing this thing because I've watched my subscription numbers tank the last 6 weeks or so.  Maybe I suck at it and instead of connecting I'm repulsing, like the feeling I get whenever I see a celebrity or rich person on tv that is 70 years old and has had half their nose chopped off, neck skin sawed in half and tucked behind their ears, eyebrows tattooed on their forehead, and who's face is botoxed into that constantly shocked state.  When I think about that, though, I think about how I feel like writing the blog is an exercise for me.  Kind of like lifting weights to get huge, although if I lifted weights as often as I write I'd be absolutely massive, or absolutely injured.  I don't know if my body could handle fourteen hour lifting sessions quite as well as my brain handles fourteen hour writing streaks.  

3.  How can I appeal to more readers?  I ask myself that question a lot.  I've contemplated a number of ways and have tried a lot.  In some of my most recent blogs you'll notice more media rich content.  People are supposed to love funny videos, songs, gif's and the like, but I certainly haven't seen that affect my numbers a lot and it oftentimes takes me longer because I have to look things up and link them and make sure I'm not stealing from people who are rich enough to care and want to sue me.  I've tried advertising it through facebook, twitter, and goodreads.  I've done it independently as well as in tandems/unison.  It doesn't seem to matter.  I do know a surefire way to get readers.  Have your dog die.  Sir Wheat's Axl Grease saw something like 600 hits and took me all of ten minutes to post.  I only have one dog left, though, and he's turning into a pretty good dog, but I honestly don't care for him as much as good old Axl.  Its OK, they're dogs, one is dead and I won't tell the other one to his face.   I haven't even taught him to read yet.

4.  Should my blog writing be representative of my novel writing?  Some experts say yes, some say no.  I know that my blog writing is not necessarily representative of my novel writing.  I would say that there are similar elements, but I'm certainly not throwing down action adventure stories every week.  I've contemplated doing a series that way through the blog, but I have a lot on my plate right now and nothing close to development that would actually fit that bill.  I have a pretty cool idea for one, but I feel like I'd have to write the whole thing first, since I often come up with awesome ideas in the end of a book that I have to go back and add in the beginning so that they make sense.  It would suck to write it live, week to week, and then miss out on something super sweet.

5.  Should I even continue the blog?  I won't lie, that's probably the first question I ask myself every week.  I've been at this about six months now, and at first it seemed like it had positive impact.  I sold a few books, got some good feedback, gained some facebook followers, collected quite a few subscribers.  The last couple of months, though, I've sold no books, gotten very little feedback, gained no facebook followers, and have shed subscribers like it was a Biggest Loser contest.  I'm in the writing game for the haul, but I'm not necessarily into wasting my time.  I can get practice while I work on The Sentinel, Akarthus, Letters From Maggie, Immortality, and the tentatively titled third installment in the Rex Chase series, Moskchenko.  That's right.  I have five novels I'm developing right now, along with the five children's books and not to mention the music bug has been gnawing at my brain.  The Sentinel is almost done, I have a good start on Akarthus, and Letters From Maggie, Immortaility, and Moskchenko are completely outlined.  Its not like I'm hurting for projects.  I guess what I'm saying is that if you like this blog you should tell me.  I'm inclined to keep doing it, but...

6.  There is no number 6.  I'm not saying that the number itself does not exist, because it does.  I've subbed in enough math classes lately to be certain of that fact AND I can see it right there at the top of my keyboard as well.  So, don't be afraid and I'm sorry if anyone defacated in their pants because they feared the number 6 may have gone the way of the dodo.  Speaking of dodos, I watched this movie with my kids the other day, "The Pirates: Band of Misfits", at least I think that's its name.  Anyway, the head pirate in that movie has a dodo bird that he thought was a parrot and they meet the Queen of England and she tries to eat the dodo and the whole thing is done in claymation, or digital computerized claymation or whatever, and then they turn into awesome pirates in the end and win pirate of the year.  I dug it.  Blog over.

 

Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button or icons above.  Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel?  Hit the donate button below!  Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback?  Those are linked right here too!   Oh yeah.  FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48!  Thanks!

Donate



















Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy



30.00























sale








Ma'iitso Rises Paperback



14.99 16.99

For my friend, my life, my love, my wife...

It was a beautiful spring morning not unlike others before.  Birds chirped outside and the undeniable smell of fresh cut grass hitched a ride on the cool breeze wafting through the windows.  I woke up a little later than most and wondered if she had said goodbye earlier as I drearily stepped into the shower.  The blast of hot water stimulated my cognitive abilities and a vague recollection of a goodbye kiss on the forehead formed in my brain.  A day unlike any other I had ever experienced before or will again was just beginning.

I made a few phone calls and talked to a number of people about our plans for the day as I finished my breakfast, fed the dog, and made sure the house was ready for visitors.  It seemed like nobody knew exactly what was going on but me and that was fine.  Everything had come together rather quickly and perhaps I had overlooked a few details.  Last second decisions still needed to be made, inevitable problems needed to be solved, and I had no qualms being the man for the job.  I was ready.

In the previous days I had prepped most of the arrangements and I held a supreme confidence that this day itself would come out just fine.  As I stepped from the house in my khaki shorts, Hawaiian shirt, and flip flops, a change of clothes draped over my shoulder, I took a look at my green Chevy S-10.  Something seemed wrong.  I didn't have a flat tire.  Nobody dinged the door.  I looked up at the sky as a layer of clouds rolled in and the temperature dropped slightly.  We were having a cookout later and the ominous prediction of rain had held steady in the forecast for days.  The grill!  That's what I was forgetting.  I needed to throw our gas grill in the back of the truck for the cookout.

Bullet dodged, I fired up the powerful four cylinder behemoth that was the two wheel drive S-10 and started my journey to Springlake.  It was a trip I'd taken many, many times before.  I grew up down near Manito and at the time had a little 15 foot basstracker with an ancient 25 horse Evinrude motor.  A previous owner had scratched off the "2", I guess so that you could go on smaller lakes with 10 horse limits, but the change was very noticeable.  That day, though, I wasn't pulling the jon behind the mighty S-10.  No fishing was on the agenda.

The trip went by quickly and I spoke on the phone with a number of people, continuing to coordinate the day's events.  Temperatures seemed to dip a little more and I had the same conversation again and again with numerous worrying friends and relatives.  I don't remember it being annoying, or even bothersome to me at all, just slightly amusing at the differences in concern.  

A conversation with one of the men went something like this.

Man:  50% chance of rain from 1-3.  Whatya think?

Me:  Yeah, we'll have to see what happens.  Can't control the weather.  You know?

Man:  I hear that.  What are you going to do with all this stuff if it starts pouring?

Me:  I've got a plan.  Most of it'll be ok out here.  We'll just move inside if it starts raining.

Man:  Yeah, no big deal.

Me:  No big deal.

 

A conversation with one of the women went more like this.

Woman:  My husband told me it is absolutely, positively going to be raining and I feel like that would be worse than getting hit in the head with a shovel.

Me:  It might, but not with the shovel part, I guess?  We'll just have to wait and see.  Can't control the weather.  You know?

Woman:  Oh, that would be just awful.  All these beautiful arrangements and your hard work and planning.  The day will be ruined worse than if you were out here strangling puppies.

Me:  It'll be ok.  I would never do that to puppies and I've got a plan.  Most of the things will be alright out here.  We'll just move inside if it starts raining.

Woman:  Oh my.  That would just be horrible.  Rain is the equivalent of billions of tiny sharp daggers falling from the sky that would tragically disfigure and maim all of us leaving the entire group wallowing in a shared pool of blood as we spend our last moments together in agony.

Me:  Yikes.

 

OK, so maybe the women weren't that dramatic.  I just wanted to properly illustrate the levels of concern over the forecast of rain.

So, the hour approached and I was busy, almost too busy to fully wrap my brain around what was transpiring.  I set up tables and chairs and got the grill all ready for cooking.  I set out the food and drinks and mingled with more people, all while keeping an eye on those pesky rain clouds above.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I had a lot of help, I just don't remember who did what exactly and wouldn't want to slight anyone's contribution.  

Now the time was getting really close.  I changed out of my shorts, Hawaiian shirt and flip flops into my Sunday best.  Some of my best friends in the world had arrived and we made small talk even as my nerves started to gnaw at me a little bit.  A few pictures were taken.  We kept looking at the clouds.  Then my brother in law Jessie walked up and said.

"Are you ready, because she's ready."

That might not be a direct quote, but I'd say its reasonably close.  I have no idea what I said back and the next couple of minutes are a blur. 

I LOST MY SHOE!!!!!!!

It was May the 21st 2005 when Candice Linnea Baxter, accompanied by her brother Joe, made that short walk from the interior of Springlake Missionary Church to the yard outside.  Almost as if on cue, the clouds broke and rays of sunlight shone brightly through the newly greened canopies of the trees.  A very slight but warm breeze ruffled the fledgling leaves and then she appeared.  I can still close my eyes and see her smiling face as she came around the gathered group of close family and friends.  It was going off without a hitch, but then she stumbled.  Her heeled shoe had caught in the soft spring earth and the briefest of gasps went up in the crowd before she closed her eyes, laughed, kicked off the other shoe and kept right on down the aisle.  Onlookers joined her in the laughter and it greatly helped to ease the butterflies in my stomach and growing lump in my throat.  

Thirty seconds under our belts!  Well, I had on a belt.

Our wedding was eight minutes long and during that eight minutes I made one of the best decisions of my life.  Well, I had actually made the decision months or years before, but that was the moment of truth.  It was the day I made Candice Linnea Wheat my wife and I haven't regretted a second of it since.  I love her more now then ever before and can't imagine it being like this with anyone else.  Happy nine year anniversary to my friend, my life, my love, my wife.

Beautiful.  I cropped myself out because I just mess it up!

 

 

 

 I can't wait to go to work later, and you'll go to work too, and then we'll both work all day on our anniversary.  Wait a minute.  That's not romantic at all.  Maybe I should make something up better, like a trip to Hawaii!  Yeah, that sounds better.  We should have taken a trip to Hawaii.  I could have dug up that old shirt.  Why didn't I think of this before?  Oh well.  Maybe next year for our tenth.  Well, maybe the 25th.  Definitely by the 50th!

No book pimping today.  I love you Candice.  Happy anniversary.

 

Tim

Shamazon!!!

The Sentinel is nearing completion!  As I get the editing and proofreading process complete I'll probably tease a little more on here.  Maybe a couple of chapters here and a couple of chapters there.  We'll see.  I'm also mulling around the possibility of a pre-sale on hardback versions.  Since they are the most expensive and time consuming portion of the whole process I'm contemplating a pre-sale where you get an instant download of The Sentinel to read, and an instant download of Ma'iitso Rises.  Then after 150 downloads the project is funded and you'll get a hardback version of The Sentinel as well as an as yet to be announced other project.  It's kind of like a Kickstarter sort of thing, and I'm thinking I would have to charge around $60 to make the 150 number work.  Obviously I would sign everything and include letters of authentication and all that jazz.  I could bump the number up to 200 and drop the cost to $50 and include a Ma'iitso Rises hardback as well, but 200 hardbacks is honestly a lot to sell.  I haven't sold that many physical hardbacks of Ma'iitso.

The main problem with all of this is that I'll need to do it primarily here in the digital realm through my website, and that is where my marketing skills kind of struggle.  I actually am not sure if it's my marketing skills so much as my lack of, or willingness to waste, my internet marketing budget.  I've tried lots of different ideas and read pretty much every article about internet marketing on Google.  Yeah, that's right, EVERY article.  I read pretty fast though.  It's all these articles that I've read which have me putting more pictures and linking videos and stuff in my blog.  According to the interwebs you people need STIMULATED!

WATCH THIS!!!!!!!














AND THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What do those have to do with anything?  Nothing.  I just like people falling down.  

Anyway, since I can't actually reach through the computer and stimulate you myself...  Wait a minute. Never mind.   So, I've done all the reading, and sank some $ in here and there, but I've yet to find a promotion that I've paid for that made its money back.  If I could even pay someone $1000 and then sell just enough books to cover that, I'd be completely fine with it.  I have no problem breaking even on a campaign.  I feel like Ma'iitso Rises is good enough that it will be able to generate on its own once it gets some traction in the paying world of books, which is not to be mistaken for the non-paying world of books.  They are completely different animals.  I've found the people in the paying world of books to be more likely to review/constructively criticize/recommend to others.  The world of non-paying books is more likely to download the book for free and...  never think about it again.  That's just the way it is and for those who've figured out how to play both sides of that fence I give kudos.  

Anyway I've Google marketed and Facebook marketed and Goodreads marketed etc. etc. and I've gotten really good at giving books away.  Shoot, I've given away thousands, but the problem is, is that it never seems to lead to an avalanche of sales.  I'll have a few trickle in here and there as people tell their friends or people get tricked into buying one after the free promotion is over.  Yeah, you heard that right, I've refunded six books because people thought they were getting them for free, and then accidentally agreed to pay $5.  Did I get my ebook back?  Nope.  Did they give me a review?  Nope.  Does Amazon even allow free giveaways to generate reviews anymore?  Nope.  

Wait a minute.  Amazon makes you sign an exclusive agreement with them via the KDP select program which allows you to promote your books, mainly through free giveaways, but they recently decided that those who download the books via the free giveaways can't leave you a review?  Yep.  As a matter of fact, not only did they stop allowing free giveaways to generate reviews, they took away the reviews that I had built up through the free giveaways.  Ma'iitso Rises now has eleven reviews, after I gave away thousands of free books just to generate the other 20 or so reviews that got taken away.  Another awesome thing is that after multiple emails asking why they took down so many of my verified reviews I found out through an author's chat room that it was because they were from free book giveaways.  Another guy in the same chat room says that he still has all of his free reviews, but it was about thirty to one against him.  Maybe he was an Amazon troll trying to keep up the good name of the company.  Who knows?  Anyway, Amazon still hasn't officially responded to my inquiries, at all, not even an automatically generated response.  I'd honestly prefer to drop them completely, but they own something like 84% of the marketplace.  I'm thinking that timwheatbooks.com probably has at least 14 or 15 of the other 16 percent.  At least.  Shoot, I'd settle for 1/100th of 1%.  

So, I'm going to put forth a plea right now.






Ma'iitso Rises (A Rex Chase Adventure)







By Tim Wheat

I've lost a lot of reviews on Amazon because of this free thing, and I think it is stupid, but that's the way it is.  What they haven't done, though, is take down the reviews of people who purchased the book elsewhere.  So, if you have an Amazon account and you haven't already left me a review, and even if you've downloaded it from there for free already.  Click on the link above and leave me one.  I say even if you've already downloaded it for free, because maybe, just maybe they'll change their minds, or the computer won't catch it or something and it'll post.  I've got to get those numbers up a bit so that when I release The Sentinel I have a little better track record.  I know that my 34 reviews looked A LOT better than my current 11.  Hey, wanna do me an even bigger favor?  Ask your mom who has an Amazon account to leave me a review.  What's that you say?  You are the mom?  Excellent.  Have your kids leave me reviews!  What's that?  You're not a mom or a dad and are a test tube baby with no friends?  In that case, shoot me a line.  We'll hang out.  I don't even particularly care how many stars you give me, although I'd prefer 5, but if you don't think it deserves that many, then that's fine.  Reviews don't have to be long either.  One or two lines will do the job.

"I liked this book a lot.  The characters were fun.  The action was good.  I'd recommend!"

Bam!  I wrote that in about 10 seconds and would be totally fine seeing it as a five or four star review.  P.S.  Only one person can use that as their review.  

"I've read a lot of books and Ma'iitso Rises was enjoyable if not ground-breaking.  A nice entertaining read."

Bam!  Another ten seconds and I've kicked out a 3 star review.

"This book sucks.  Tim Wheat sucks.  The world sucks.  Kittens suck.  Rainbows suck.  Flowers suck.  I didn't think it was possible, but I hate life even more now because of Tim Wheat and Ma'iitso Rises."

Bam!  I spent maybe twenty seconds on that 1 star review.  Hey, I'm bound to get a few of those eventually right?  

Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button or icons above.  Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel?  Hit the donate button below!  Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback?  Those are linked right here too!  Thanks!

Donate



















Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy



30.00























sale








Ma'iitso Rises Paperback



14.99 16.99

Sick sick bo bick banana fana fo fick me my mo mick SICK!!!

Ma'iitso Rises (A Rex Chase Adventure)







By Tim Wheat

 

 

You want to know something I am truly horrible at, other than pool, golf, and tiddlywinks?  I actually don't know if I've ever played tiddlywinks.  It just kind of popped into my mind, so I wrote it.  You know what?  That's how this week's blog is going to be.  First thing that pops into my mind.  That's what I'm going to write, with no editing or correcting or resequencing or anything.  Is resequencing a word?  I don't know.  My grammar check seems to have a problem with it, but guess what?  I don't care.  Wanna know why?  

 Because I'm sick.

 

 

Actually sick too.  Not sick and tired of people's crap, or sick of the man, or sick of freeloaders or sick of selena gomez.  Yep, just noticed I didn't capitalize that.  Tough.  I also realized that I'm actually in no way sick of Ms. Gomez.  That wizard show she was on was kind of funny.  Her name just popped into my head, so, sorry Selena .  I'm honest to goodness, down in the dumps, icky tummy, achy everything sick.  I've been that way since last Thursday and like I said before.

i suck at it.

I remember when I was a little kid, and not like 3 years old little, I don't remember that.  I'm talking about when I was probably 8-18 or so.  Anyway, I remember that all I had to do to get better then was go to sleep.  I'd get 15 hours of sleeping done, wake up, eat some jello my mommy gave me, drink some sprite my mommy gave me, and go back to sleep for another 15 hours, then BAM!!!, I'm all better.  That was awesome and that's the way I prefer to get it done, but it just doesn't seem to work that way anymore.  

Instead I wake up and its like 

Me:  Man.  I feel bad.

Kids:  We still need stuff!

Work:  You still gotta come here.

Me:  Yeah, I know.  This sucks.

Now, I'm not going to say that my family didn't cut me a break, because they most certainly did.  They're actually pretty good about taking care of themselves when their mom or I aren't feeling well, even at ages 5 and 7.  Obviously the 7 year old is better than the 5 year old, but I actually think they kind of like it because they get a lot more yes answers than usual.

Kids:  Dad, can we have ice cream for breakfast?

Me:  (Head propped on three pillows because snot is pouring out of my body, which is curled into the fetal position underneath two blankets while laying on a heating pad and freezing while sweating to death.)  Yes.  Please only ask me questions if you're dying.

Kids:  Dad can we play in the highway?

Me:  Yes.  Don't die.

Kids:  Dad, we broke your chainsaw while we were playing with it in the highway..

Me:  Are you dead?

Kids:  No.

                         Me:  Good...

As far as I'm concerned my boys are 1000 times smarter and 1000 times less psycho than that dude in Texas Chainsaw Massacre and he got to play with chainsaws that whole movie.  So, yeah. as long as no dying is involved.

 I got kind of lucky with the whole work thing too, as in I wasn't scheduled for anything on Thursday, Friday, or Monday that I couldn't easily get out of, and that's what I did.  I got out of it, and not because I can't go to work sick.  I've done it tons of times before.  This was a special kind of sick.  The doubled over in pain nothing stays in your stomach you don't want to be farther than 10 feet from the bathroom kind.  Miserable.

After fighting the good fight, medicine free for two days I finally decided to get something to help.  Actually, I tried before that, but we don't get sick very often and the closest medicine to being in date was the pepto bismol with a date of Aug 2011.  I still almost drank it.  Anyway, I wasn't sure what to buy, but as a I struggled to the counter at the CVS loaded with Kaopectate, Gas-x, and other remedies I made eye contact with the 16 year old clerk.  He obviously felt bad for me and offered to help me carry me stuff.  Mind you, I had one bag, and I almost took him up on it.  If he would have offered to drive me home I would have taken that.  I know buying Gas-x certainly didn't have me feeling very young.

My wife was a trooper too, but was scheduled to work just about every day.  She went to work, then came home and made me jello, although she did forget to bring me that bomb hospital ice so that I could chew on it and my mouth wouldn't be so horribly dry, but I forgave her for that.  Anyway, she was nice to me, and didn't make fun of me, and got me stuff I needed.  I think I'll keep her around a while longer.

I am actually feeling better as I write this, and I did go to work today, which was only semi-crappy.  I'm still not 100%.  I'd put myself at 77.3%.  Walking up three steps to get back into the house is still wearing me out, and reading to the kids today at school almost killed me, but I'm at least able to fake it now.  I've weaned myself off the Gas-X and Kaopectate and have even managed to put whole entire meals in my belly without expelling them immediately, which is nice.  Moral of the story.  Don't get sick.  It sucks.

 

 

Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button or icons above.  Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel?  Hit the donate button below!  Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback?  Those are linked right here too!  Thanks!

Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy



30.00























sale








Ma'iitso Rises Paperback



14.99 16.99

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K

Let's say that you haven't read Ma'iitso Rises yet.  Well, tomorrow, you can click on the link below and it'll be FREE!   This is for tomorrow, May 1, 2014 only, and I didn't really plan on doing this anymore, but I need some reviews!  Therefore, the book is free tomorrow, and all I'm asking in return is that you leave me a review.  So, even if you bought a hardback or paperback from me it would be awesome if you downloaded a free copy here and then left me one of those precious reviews.  The more people the better and maybe Ma'iitso Rises can climb up the Action/Adventure charts a bit!  OK, onto the blog!  

Ma'iitso Rises (A Rex Chase Adventure)







By Tim Wheat

So, I'm laying on the couch the other day, mindlessly flipping through the channels when I stumble across Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.  I absolutely loved this movie when I was a little kid!  I know that I've watched it since I got older, but I decided to go ahead and check it out again.  I wasn't disappointed.  

I don't care what anyone thinks, that movie is pure genius.  If you didn't like history as a kid, or even as an adult how can you argue with making it more interesting by going back in time and meeting Mr. The Kid, Socrates, Sigmund Freud Dude, Miss of Arc, Abraham Lincoln and the world's most bodacious barbarian, Genghis Kahn?  I mean, in a matter of a few hours Ted Theodore Logan and Bill S. Preston Esquire went from only knowing that Caesar was a "solid dressing dude" to passing their history report with a 100%.  

When they tried to study by just getting out the book it went something like this:

: Okay, Ted, George Washington. One: the father of our country.

: Two: born on President's Day.

: Three: the dollar-bill guy.

: Bill, you ever made a mushroom out of his head? It's like, just like...

: Ted. Alaska.

: Okay. Um... Had wooden teeth, chased Moby Dick.

: That's Captain Ahab, dude.

COMEDY GOLD!!!!!  Alright, now I know that not everyone thinks this movie is as awesome as I do, although I can't say I understand it.  I'm not sure what's not to like about Mr. Anderson/Neo/Johnny Utah/Johnny Mnemonic/Keanu Reeves and well, Bill S. Preston Esquire (I have no idea who that dude is, Alex Winter?  Perhaps?  I'm not looking it up)  traveling around in time via a phone booth that George Carlin brought them so that they can collect historical figures, bring them back to San Dimas, and pass their history report with a 100%, thereby securing the most excellent future that their band Wyld Stallyns has created that aligned the planets and brought peace on earth.  Plausible?  Yep.  Likely?  I assume so.  If anyone can bring peace on earth it's Ted Theodore Logan.  I thought it was excellent then.  I think it is excellent now.  

You know what else Ted did that was excellent.  No, I'm not going to talk about The Matrix.  Those movies were pretty good.  I kinda dug em.  They couldn't hold a candle to Point Break, though.  

I mean, you have Keanu and Swayze surfing around in the ocean, saying "bra" a lot, kind of arguing about that one chick from A League of Their Own, and robbing a few banks while donning president masks along the way.  What could be better you say?  Oh yeah, Keanu is really Special Agent Johnny Utah, and he's actually there to bust Swayze.  Throw in a little Gary Busey and you've got some high quality acting going on bra.

You know what?  Point Break is awesome, and so is Ted Theodore Logan, but in all actuality, he can't hold a candle to Swayze.  I mean, Thor, is the lead actor in the latest Red Dawn movie, and Swayze played that part a million times tougher thirty years ago.  I mean, then he was a bad dude in Roadhouse and Donnie Darko, showed his softer side in Dirty Dancing and Ghost.  Honestly, though, my favorite Swayze role, hands down, is that of Adrian, alongside Chris Farley's character Barney as Chippendale's dancers.  I've seen this SNL skit tons of times and it makes me literally lol every single time.  I'm laughing just looking at this picture.  I can't help myself.  Chris Farley always made me laugh.  I have to embed the video.

 

Man, I watched that video, and then a bunch of other Farley videos.  That guy was better than Ted and Jed (that was Swayze's name in Red Dawn).  With lines like "fat guy in a little coat" and "what'd you do!", not to mention "Living in a van!  Down by the river!"  Oh man.  I'm kinda bummed both these guys are dead now.  Huh.  

Anyway, while I was embedding video I decided to look up Alex Winter, and yes, his name is Alex Winter, and guess what I found out?  Bill and Ted 3 could start filming as early as this year!  The script is done.  Keanu and Alex are both in.  They have a director.  Excellent and most non-heinous!  Alright, so what's holding it back?  Ohhhhhhh, money.  They should start a kickstarter fund.  I mean, how much cash can it take to film a Bill and Ted Movie?   We can film it at my house and it'll still be awesome.  I've never directed a movie, but how hard can it be?  Alright, that's my next project.  Who has Keanu's phone number?  I need to shoot him a text.

 

Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button or icons above.  Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel?  Hit the donate button below!  Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback?  Those are linked right here too!  Thanks!

Donate



















Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy



30.00























sale








Ma'iitso Rises Paperback



14.99 16.99

The Story of My Life. Naked and Afraid with One Direction and Justin Bieber.

Blog, blog, blog, blog, blog, blog, blog, blog, blog, blog.  Think the Cadbury Bunny.  I ate about 1264.7 of those this weekend.  I had approximately 1264.7 pounds of ham too.  Buy Ma'iitso Rises today.  If you haven't read it yet head on over to the Shop section and buy a signed copy right NOW!!

I don't have a lot of pressing issues on my mind this week.  I didn't have any run-ins with dirty unbathed hippies.  The wife is good.  The kids are good.  Beauregard Duke of the House of Wheat is even managing to behave more often than usual.  Book creation is happening all of the time.  It's sunny outside and I've been getting a lot of work done on the farm.  The Cubs can't hit, which I believe I predicted a few short weeks ago.  All in all things are alright.

I have a confession to make, though.  Even with all of my railings against reality television in an earlier blog, I have succumbed to the infernal beast and become an honest to goodness fan of one of the shows.  I know.  I know.  I can hear people now.  "Hypocrite," screams one person.  "Poser!" bellows another.  "Stupid buttface punkapotamus loser!" comes the catcall from the cheap seats.  Easy guys.  You don't have to call me names, although punkapotamus is a pretty solid effort.  I almost feel badly about my new guilty pleasure, but then I find myself typing the name of my show into the search on my television's guide channel and get disappointed it isn't on tonight.  Life is hard.

So, without further adieu I am here to proclaim to the world.  I AM NO LONGER A CLOSET FAN OF THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL'S "NAKED AND AFRAID".  There you have it.  I'm out.  

One night I was sitting on the couch, mostly ignoring the tv.  I don't remember what my wife had on, but it was probably something terrible, and then she switched the channel.  I will admit, the first thing that caught my eye was that there was a naked butt on my screen.  Wait a minute.  I don't have skinemax.  Why are there naked butts on my tv?  Then this naked girl and naked guy walk up and shake hands.  I had no background on this show and had never seen it before, but two naked people trapped in the wilderness for 21 days.  I decided to give it a go.

Flash forward a few weeks, and now I can tell you all about it.

First of all, they drop off these naked people, a guy and a girl, in the middle of nowhere.  Everyone who is on the show has submitted their survival resume' and they are assigned some random score on what their chances of survival are.  Actually, the score is supposed to be scientific, but I haven't noticed it having any actual bearing on whether or not the people will make it the full 21 days.  OK, so the people are dropped off, they take off their clothes, and then they meet.

For the most part, so far, a lot of the shows have been on islands.  I remember one in the jungle, but it seems like most are on islands.  So, the two naked people walk up to each other and say hello.

NAKED DUDE:  Hi naked lady.

NAKED LADY:  Hi naked dude.

Now, generally speaking a lot of these people are a little awkward, or weird anyway, so the greeting is usually kind of dumb.  Next the pair get their one survival tool that they are allowed to bring.  OK, now, I used to think that they got to choose their own device and I would wonder what would happen if they both brought a firestarter.  That would suck.  Then, on one of the episodes the guy said 

"Hey naked lady, let's look in the bags and see what we brought."

I don't know if that means that the producers put their survival tool in there, but it kind of doesn't matter.  Alright so, usually, one person has a firestarter, and the other has brought a machete or hatchet or something.  The problem is, is that half the time these supposed "survivalists" don't even plan ahead for stuff or think of simple solutions to their problems.   Like in this one the two naked people had to hike through switchgrass which was cutting the daylights out of their legs, and the dude was just walking with his machete in its sheath, letting his legs get all cut up.  I was sitting there yelling at the tv.  "USE YOUR MACHETE TO CUT THE GRASS AWAY!!!!  THAT'S WHAT IT'S FOR!"  They didn't hear me though.

Another time this one dude gets naked, and he's a ginger.  It's sunny and 104 outside and they don't have sunscreen.  I know what I would do if they dropped me off on an island, naked, afraid, 104 degrees, sun beating down...  I'd get in the shade, find a big leaf, and wait til dark.  Not this guy.  He got so burned trying to build a shelter that he couldn't move for 3 days.  Stupid.  

I could go on and on about this show, but I'm not gonna.  You'll just have to watch it.

I have another confession.

I'm a sucker for facebook adds.  It's like Mark Zuckerberg has tunneled into my mind and knows exactly what intrigues me.

"'EPIC PHOTOSHOP FAILS'  Click Here."   "He said 'This'.  Her reply couldn't be more perfect.", "Two drunk knife fighting monkeys fall down a flight of stairs."  "Mexican Fighting Midgets Ride Mechanical Bulls,"  "Twelve Irishmen On Acid Bong Entire Bottle of Whiskey.  You'll never guess what happens next," and the list goes on and on.  I didn't even know that I was a facebook ad addict until Marky Z changed the rules on an update and started alerting me when things that I would probably like were available.  Maybe I need counseling.

Guess what.  I have yet another confession.

I like "The Story of My Life" by One Direction.  Yeah, I know that One Direction probably had nothing to do with writing it.  Yeah, I  know I'm not a 12 year old girl.  Yeah, I know that they wear skinny jeans and I think that skinny jeans look really, really, really, really, really, extra stupid. Yeah, I know that they kind of go against everything I've ever stood for in music.  But, well, that song is just good.  Don't worry, though, I haven't gone out and bought an "I love Harry" t-shirt yet.  Just a keychain.  

You know who else I like?

Justin Bieber.  

Nope.  I just sat here for five minutes and tried to think of some story about how I liked Bieber, but I couldn't even make one up, and I'm relatively creative.  He sucks that bad.  

You know what would be kind of awesome, though, is if Harry and the Biebs got dropped off on one of the islands together and did an episode of Naked and Afraid.  I'm assuming that they would count Jbieb as the girl, even though Harry is pretty girly too.  It's really kind of a toss up.   Bieber would probably bring eyeliner as his survival tool.  Harry would bring skinny jeans, which actually would keep his legs from getting sunburned, so he has a leg up there.  Pun intended.   I'm imagining Harry actually being a lot manlier than the Biebs and beating the crap out of him sometime before the 3 weeks is up and little Justin just sits around and whines that he wished he didn't have to choose between eyeliner and hair gel.  Maybe that's why I like that 1D song.  Hey, it's better than Bieber.  

I think that's it for the confessions this week.  To recap.  Naked and Afraid is a great show.  If I were on it I would only work at night so that I could conserve energy and not get sunburnt and I would make water/shelter/fire a priority, not weaving baskets, or building a chair to sit on, or trying to chop down a coconut tree..  If you have ever seen the show, you'll see that those are actual examples.  People are dumb.  OK, I also like facebook ads and One Direction.  Well, I don't really like One Direction per se, just that one song.  The Biebs still sucks, the Earth is probably still round, cadbury eggs are good, peeps are weird, and I like ham.  Life is good.

Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button below.  Thanks!

 

Crouching camel, hidden sea lion.

OK, last week=bummer city.  This week=morevacationfun!!  Which is way better.  Buy Ma'iitso Rises.  I'm poor and I need money.  I don't know if we can afford to feed our children if you don't!  OK onto the blog!

I recently spent a little time at the zoo and though I admit being a human is pretty sweet, I wouldn't mind taking my shot at a few other species in the animal kingdom.  On the flip side of that coin, however, there are some animals I wouldn't trade places with for all the money in the world.  OK, that's a lie.  I think I could do anything for a day in exchange for all the money in the world.  If I had all the money in the world, though, wouldn't that make everyone else broke?  So, if I had all the money, people would be coming to me all of the time asking me to give them some more dough and I'd be like "Whatya need it for?"  and they'd be like  "To get a tatto of my girlfriend's name directly across my forehead," and I'd be like "That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard."  and they'd be like "No way, this one time I watched this youtube video of this guy whose shotgun jammed so he decided to look directly down the barrel instead of just checking the breach, but then he got lucky and it just shot his hat off,"  and I'd be like, "You're right that is pretty stupid, but I think you've got him beat by just a hair,"  and they'd be like "No way because if we ever break up I can just go on one of those tv shows where they do awesome cover ups of crappy tattoos, and I'd be like, "Yeah, but forehead tattoos are probably a bad idea anyway, even if they are of a snow leopard leaping across a ball of flames flanked by palm trees, because you might want to get a job someday,"  and they'd be like, "Nobody has jobs stupid because you have all the money and we just come here and ask you for it," and I'd be like, "Oh yeah, my bad dude," and although I wouldn't mind taking a run at philanthropy as a career I don't think I'd particularly enjoy holding the purse strings to the entire world's coffers and having to decide who should get how much and when and then there are those forehead tattoos...  Run on sentence gets me again.  And a fragment.  Or two.  Or four.  I really just do this so that I don't have to proofread.  Everyone will just think it's a joke.  Or I'm kidding.  I'm not kidding.  Maybe.  Anyway, having all of the money in the world might actually be more work than its worth, and I think that economies would crumble and stuff, so I'll settle for, let's say, a trillion dollars.  So, counting down from five, here are the animals I think it would be awesome to be for free, and why, followed by the animals I would trade places with for a day if offered a trillion dollars, or maybe a hundred dollars.  I would take it on a case by case basis.  

5.  Duck:  

A duck you say?  Yeah.  I think it'd be cool to be a duck.  I think the main reason I think it would be cool is because I was pretty young when Howard the Duck came out and I really liked it.  Then I got older and saw it again, and it was horrible.  That still hasn't swayed my opinion, however.  Ducks can fly, which is awesome.  They have feathers, and I've had pillows made of feathers, and those things are comfortable.  Lastly, I like their language.  

Person Who Is Talking To Me:  "Tim, how are you doing today?"  

Me:  "Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack." 

PWITTM:  "What!?"  

Me:  "Quack, quack."  

PWITTM:  "That's absolutely insane bro!  I've heard a lot of crazy things in my days, but that takes the cake!"

Me:  "Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack."

I rest my case.

4.  Tiger:  

This is an easy one.  Tigers are awesome.  Tony the Tiger is awesome.  Bouncing is what Tiggers do best and although the movie Bounce kind of sucked, I don't hold that against Tiggers.  Diego is very cool, good with babies, and a saber toothed tiger, so I think that counts.  Tigress did some pretty serious kung fu and anyone who follows in the path of David Carradine is awesome in my book.  Then there's Richard Parker (Life of Pi) who kind of brings the others down as far as being awesome goes.  He had no reason not to eat that skinny dude on the boat pretty much the first day.  I mean he was oppressed his entire life by people.  You can't tell me he wouldn't maul every one he saw no matter the consequences.  Anyway, tigers can swim forever and I've seen one eat an alligator on youtube.  I think.  That might have been a panther, or a leopard.  Whatever.  They're all pretty much tigers anyway.

3.  Sea Lion:  

Easy one.  Sea lion's look like they're having a pretty righteous time pretty much all day every day.  When they're asleep they look like they're having a righteous time.  When they're swimming along, they look like they're having a righteous time.  When they're laying on top of a rock with a big grin on their face, basking in the sun, their whiskers shifting side to side as they wiggle their little black noses, they look like they're having a righteous time.  Shoot, they even look like they're having a righteous time when people are throwing whole raw fish, guts and all down their gullets.  I really was looking for a way to fit the word righteous in there, but not like Moses was righteous or Righteous Brothers righteous, more like Bill and Ted "WHOA. RIGHTEOUS!!!!". Anyway, one time my friend got served an entire fish at a restaurant in Jamaica, and she didn't look like she enjoyed it that much, so sea lions definitely have the jump on humans there.  Lastly, I kind of wanted to put regular lions in my list, but I already had tigers, so I think the lion kingdom is pretty well represented by the lions of the sea.  

2.  Camel:  

Camels just look like they're relaxed all of the time.  It seems like if I were a camel for a day I'd just chill out and tell people stuff that would make them relax, like

Me:  "Yeah, I'm a camel.  I have two big humps that I store water in."

Person Who Knows Things About Camels:  "Actually camels don't store water in their humps.  The humps are just where they keep their body fat so that it isn't throughout the body heating them up."

Me:  "Oh yeah.  Well I can drink 53 gallons of water in three minutes and store it in my 5 stomachs."

PWKTAC:  "Camels can drink that much water that quickly, but don't store it in extra stomachs.  Their red blood cells are actually oval shaped instead of circular and this is one of the things that physiologically allows them to store so much water so quickly and keep it for long periods.

Me:  "What do I know.  I'm just a camel.  You're the person who knows things about camels.  And talks to camels.  Weirdo.  Stop stressing me out."

AND NUMBER 1: Monkey  

Duh.  This wasn't even really a contest.  Monkeys have tails and can swing from anything.  When they fling their poo its pretty gross, but it still makes me laugh.  They can jump about ten times their body length and their babies just hold onto their bellies while they party and fly around the room.  If I personally had one tenth the energy of a monkey I'd probably own the whole world, but, oh yeah, I forgot that I don't really want to do that.  Oh well, that's not the monkey's fault.  They come in all sorts of awesome different colors and breeds and in the Wizard of Oz there were those flying monkeys, and in the newer one with Franco he had a bellhop monkey, although that monkey was kind of boring and not what I would expect from a talking monkey.  I would have thought they'd be a lot more hyper, like the monkey I most recently spoke with at the zoo.

Me:  What's up monkey?

Monkey:  I'M SWINGING AND SWINGING AND SWINGING AND SWINGING AND JUMPING AND SWINGING AND SWINGING AND FLINGING POO AND STOP!!!!!   (The monkey nervously sits and checks me out through the glass.)

Me:  Flinging poo is gross monkey.  

Monkey:  How do you know?  

Me:  I just know.  I'm evolved and use tools and have thumbs and stuff.  

Monkey:  I bet you've never even done it dork.  You know where you can stick your thumb?  I bet you can't even swing from your tail.

Me:  I don't have a tail.

Monkey:  LOSER!!!!!  STOP HASSLIN ME HUMAN!  (He's been sitting still too long)  SWINGING AND SWINGING AND FLINGING AND SWINGING AND JUMPING AND FLINGING AND SWINGING AND SWINGING!

Now that I think about it monkeys are kind of mean... 

 

OK.  Animals I don't want to be and the simple justifications.  

5.  Elephant:  

They put food in their mouths wither their noses.  My mother never would have allowed this.

4.  Tarantula:

 It sucks when you're the most hated member of the kingdom.

3.  Rat:  

Although I enjoy the song "Rats" by Pearl Jam.  I don't particularly care to be one.

2.  Bed Bugs:  

What a useless creature.

AND THE NUMBER ONE MEMBER OF THE ANIMAL KINGDOM I WOULD NEVER WANT TO BE AND MY LEAST FAVORITE PART OF OUR RECENT TRIP TO THE ZOO.............Drumroll please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1.  Dirty Unbathed Hippies:  

Hands down, the smelliest members of the animal kingdom at the entire zoo were the group of 6 or 7 dirty unbathed hippies that we ran into on a number of occasions. When we walked into the house of monkeys, or whatever it was called, I commented on how horribly it smelled, but that wasn't the monkeys.  That was the dirty unbathed hippies who probably hadn't showered more recently than the monkeys.   To be specific, I don't have a problem with hippies in general, just the dirty unbathed variety who actually smell significantly better when surrounded in a cloud of cigarette smoke, the mere presence of which proves that the dirty unbathed hippies collectively had enough cash to buy soap and/or deodorant/some sort of stinky b.o. masking agent, and yet chose to buy multiple packs of cigarettes instead.  If you want to smell "natural" and "earthy" in the commune, more power to you, I won't go there, but if you want to mingle with others in public places then please be courteous and schedule your monthly/quarterly/semi-annual bath the day before, or even the morning of.   I would never want to be a dirty unbathed hippy and I don't think it would actually be possible to pay me a trillion dollars to become one for a day because I couldn't get that smelly in a day.  Maybe in a week?  Maybe two weeks?  I'm not sure.  I take showers.  They feel nice.

 

Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button below.  Thanks!

Sir Wheat's Axl Grease

I don't have a lot to say about Axl right now.  He was a ridiculously good dog and his body was just too worn out.  He was born January 11, 2002 and died April 10, 2014 at 8:45 A.M.  It has made me truly sad today and I don't feel much like writing.  So, in lieu of a long drawn out thing I'll share a few of my favorite pics of the old pooch.

The only known picture of a baby Axl  As I sit here and look at it, I realize it is likely this was taken almost twelve years ago on the nose.  

My kids could ride this dog, poke him in the eyes, pull his tail, scream in his ears, and he would be nothing but gentle with them.  Nights at our house would consist of Axl walking from room to room to make sure everyone was ok.  

Life is rough when you're an old dog.

Axl the wetnosed reindog.  

After a hard day swimming at the pond he'd often pass out just like this for about twelve hours.  This dog loved to swim!

He's in enough pain that he doesn't want to eat or drink.  He can't stand without help.  His blood pressure is so low he should already be dead.  He still rolled over right after this picture so that I could rub his belly, which I did.  I'll miss ya buddy.

Yeah, I'm a tease...

I had a few blog ideas this week, and then I thought.  "You know what I get asked about all of the time?  The Sentinel."  I'm not sure if people actually believe I'm working on it.  So, to prove progress is being made (and save a couple hours of blog writing and use it for book writing), I'll be teasing the opening to The Sentinel.  This hasn't gone through an extensive editing/proofreading/review yet, but it'll probably read just fine.  Oh yeah, and here's the cover too.  ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Prologue

St. Thomas, Nevada.  November 7, 1914

 

“I got you!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“That’s enough boys.  If you can’t play together nicely then maybe you shouldn’t be playing together at all.”  Lindsey Baxter scolded her two young sons before addressing her husband.  “Jeff, do something about these boys.”

“Boys,” their father lay on the ground and slightly raised his head while tipping the brim of a large straw hat.  “Do as your ma says.”

November weather around the sleepy little town could often range widely, but this particular day was sunny and eighty-three degrees.  Not a cloud interrupted the brilliant blue sky, and rains in the previous weeks had caused the nearby Colorado River to swell.  These rains had brought the family ten miles south of their home.

“Didn’t you bring us down here for the fabulous hunting?  Why are you just laying around sleeping?”  Mrs. Baxter’s tone was noticeably annoyed.  Though she had grown up in the West, she held no love for the great outdoors.  “I really don’t understand why you need me here at all.”

“Linds,” Jeff referred to his wife by her pet name.  “First, it’s two in the afternoon.  Even in this beautiful weather, the animals are going to take a nap in the middle of the day.  Second, the boys are only eight and six; they can hunt with me in the morning, but are too tired by night.  Lastly, I need you here because I love you.”

She smiled at his final remark.  Though his first two points had been manufactured, he saved himself with the last.  Her demeanor lightened as she spoke again.

“Believe me, if I didn’t love you we wouldn’t be here.  I thought the rain was going to make deer hunting a breeze.  We’re already on our third day and I haven’t even seen one.”

“Well, we’ve had a couple of setbacks, but I’ll leave the boys with you tonight and go out on my own.  They’ve spooked three doe already.  Don’t worry; we’ll be on our way home tomorrow morning.”  Confidence oozed from Baxter's delivery.

“I think you’d better get going then.  I’m ready to sleep in our bed.”  Lindsey stood over her resting husband and gave him a light kick to the rear.  “Let’s go Mr. Great Deer Hunter.”

“Fine, fine.”  Jeff groaned as he stood and dusted himself off.  It seemed the southern drawl of his youth became more pronounced as he grew more annoyed. “I’m tellin you though darlin, the deer ain’t runnin this time of day.  I’m just gonna get out of sight and lay back down for a nap until its time.  I’d rather be here with the three of…”

At that instant a thunderclap pierced their ears, and a bright flash of lightning raced across the sky, terminating in the canyon below.  Both Lindsey and Jeff instinctively grabbed their ears, while their two young sons became quiet, looks of wonder on their faces.  After nearly thirty seconds Mrs. Baxter was the first to speak.

“What was that?”  Her tone had gone from annoyed to concerned.

“Dad!  I saw it!  I saw where it landed.  It’s just down in the canyon.  Can we go see it!  It must be a meteorite, or a ufo, or maybe even an alien!”  Their oldest son had a vivid imagination.

“Tone it down a little Willy.  You’re scaring your brother.”  Jeff’s drawl disappeared as he became serious.  “I couldn’t see where it landed.  Did you get a good look from over there?” 

The two boys had been playing nearly fifty yards away from their parents, and had a better view of the canyon below.  Both replied in unison.

“Yes!”

“OK then.” He clapped his hands, playfulness returning to his voice.  “It looks like a little family adventure.  You coming Linds?”

“No thank you.  Just being out here with you wild men is enough adventure for me.  I don’t need to chase down any aliens or meteorites.  You boys have a nice hike down into the canyon, though.  Don’t forget to bring back a deer with you this time.  I’m ready to go home!”

“When we discover gold that has fallen from heaven and disappear down the Colorado without you; you’ll be sorry.”  Jeff smiled as he packed water onto their mule, and checked the saddle’s buckles.  “We should be back by the morning though, babe.  We’ll hike down tonight, hopefully bag ourselves a deer, and by this time tomorrow; we’ll be on our way home.”

Lindsey smiled as the rugged looking man took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.  Though they had married nearly twelve years before, and had suffered through the deaths of three of their five children, love still existed in droves.  She couldn’t imagine her life any other way.

“Be careful.  I thought I heard a mountain lion last night.”

“I heard it’s the grizzly bears that will sneak up and eat little boys.  You and I should be fine, but they love tender little boy meat.”  Jeff teased his young sons whose faces showed genuine concern.

“Be nice Jeffrey.”  Lindsey feigned disapproval, though his ability to relate to the children was one of his most endearing qualities.

“Dad, you’re just teasing.”  The older of the two boys accused his father while adding, “We don’t even have grizzly bears this far south.”

“I don’t know.  Some of the old timers say that grizzlies used to roam the mountains all the way down to the Mexico border.  Just to be on the safe side maybe I should pack the forty-five caliber Colt and take it with us.  We could use…”

“You most certainly will not be taking my Colt.”  Lindsey interrupted her husband while pretending to be upset.  “How dare you even suggest leaving me out here unprotected?”

“What do you think boys?  Should we take the Colt with us, or leave it here for mommy to protect herself?”

Both children paused, and seemed to contemplate the question intently.  The younger of the two furrowed his brow, pretended to stroke his nonexistent chin hair, all while watching his older brother.  At eight years of age, the eldest of the Baxter boys was incredibly bright, and arched his left eyebrow before speaking.

“I think we should be able to protect ourselves from grizzlies with the shotgun and the rifle.  Mom should keep the Colt just in case.  It’s only a forty-five anyway.  A grizzly bear would run right through that.”

“Thanks a lot.  I feel much better now.”  Lindsey smiled as she ruffled her oldest son’s tousled blonde hair.  “You were right, though, nobody has seen grizzly bears this far south in a long time.”

“It’s all settled then.  We leave mommy to the grizzlies and we’ll go collect our heavenly gold.”

“Do you really think its gold papa?”  The younger of the two boys spoke hopefully, his eyes shining brightly.

“Gold doesn’t fall from the sky stupid.  Dad is just playin with…”

“That’s enough.”  The eldest son’s sentence was interrupted by his father’s simultaneous rap on the back of his head.  “You don’t tell people they are stupid, and its playing, not playin.  Your mother works hard for you boys to speak correctly, unlike your ignorant old man.  Now apologize to your brother.”

“I’m sorry.”  Both boys stood, their heads down, looks of dejection on their faces.

“So.  Which one of you wants to shoot the rifle first?”  Instantly their demeanors changed and his two young sons raised their hands, clamoring for his attention.  Jeff smiled at their eagerness.  “I guess we’ll have to hike down this canyon first and see if we can find ourselves a deer.”

“Do you think we’ll find some gold too?”  The younger of the boys smiled sweetly and expectantly.

“I sure hope so son.  I certainly hope so.

 

***

Though the trek down the side of the mountainous terrain was not overly difficult, the three Baxter men made slow time.  Jeff was proud of his two young sons.  They rarely complained, and listened intently when he gave them direction.  Along the way they had seen an abundance of wildlife, including a close encounter with a mountain lion which still had the boys buzzing with excitement.

“Dad!  How many mountain lions do you think live in the canyon?”

“Yeah, do you think that the mountain lion heard us talking about them?”

“Do you think the mountain lion is going to attack mommy now?”

The questions hadn’t stopped, and though Jeff had spotted the beast before they were in any real danger, the boys had become enthralled. 

“Take it easy guys.  I doubt there are any more mountain lions around.  I don’t think they speak English.  I doubt he goes after Mommy because she has the Colt and those cats aren’t stupid.”  He attempted to divert their attentions.  “How far do you guys think before we get to our sky gold?”

“Not far dad” his eldest son replied.

“Nope, not far dad” echoed the younger.

“That’s good, because it’s almost time for some prime deer hunting.  I’d be willing to bet that’s what our buddy the mountain lion was out here doing.”

“I think so too.”

“Me too.”

Jeff smiled again as they rounded a bend in the trail and the canyon floor opened up around them.  His sons immediately made their way to the edge of the small stream that had dug through the rocks over millions of years.  Suddenly, though, their mule stopped in its tracks, refusing to go any farther.

“Come on old girl.”  Baxter pleaded with the stubborn animal, gently rubbing its neck.  “We still have to go back up in a little while.”

“Dad!”

“Dad!”

“Come look over here!”

“Come look over here!”

Laughing as he tied the obstinate beast to a bush, Jeff turned to look at his sons.  They stood near the edge of the small stream, but that wasn’t a problem.  At their feet, however, was a freshly killed mule deer.  Without thinking, and with incredible speed, he removed his Springfield M1903 rifle from its leather holster.

“Boys!  Get back here right now!”  He had received training on the rifle at the tail end of his military service, and upon his honorable discharge, had kept the highly accurate weapon.  He now turned, and for the first time in his life, used the M1903 with the deadly intent with which it had been designed.  Horror filled his very existence as he took aim at the massive beast sprinting towards his two young sons.  “BOYS!”

Both young men stood, almost a hundred yards away, frozen in fear.  Charging in their direction at nearly thirty-five miles per hour was a massive, angry grizzly bear.  Neither boy moved as the incredible brute bore down upon them.  All they could hear was the beating of their own hearts, and the splashing of their impending attacker’s immense paws.  Death, it seemed, was near.

Gunshots rang out, but the advancement of the centuries old killer didn’t slow.  Baxter had fired four of his five shots, and with the immense animal bearing down on his children he aimed carefully.  Staring down the battle sight of the military weapon he breathed in deeply and blew it back out.  Calm came over him as he pulled the trigger.

Hurtling through the air at 2800 feet per second, the 30.06 caliber projectile was true.  It crashed into the side of the enormous bear, just behind the shoulder blade, with the kinetic energy of nearly one hundred arrows.  Slamming into the shallow waters of the stream, the great beast roared loudly as its body slid to a stop.

Death averted, the brothers snapped from their frozen state and ran toward the man who had saved them.  Baxter moved with speed and determination, covering seventy yards before his sons had gone thirty.  He dropped his weapon and wept openly as he scooped the two boys into his arms.  They had never seen their father cry before, and both soon followed suit. 

After a full minute had gone by Jeff set his two sons down and what he saw next chilled his soul.  Thirty yards ahead, the magnificent grizzly bear stood.  Satan himself seemed to appear behind the animal’s eyes as the great beast shook the tremendous head millions of years of evolution had afforded it.  Fumbling to pick up his rifle Baxter commanded his children.

“Run boys.  RUN!”

In the waning light of the day Jeff struggled to re-load the bolt action weapon he wielded.  The bear closed distance with incredible speed, and before Baxter had time for a shot, the fifteen hundred pound beast buried its head in his stomach. 

All of the air left his body and the Springfield rifle flew through the air, landing fifty feet away.  His two children watched in abject horror as the bear slashed at his body, using its razor sharp claws as primeval weapons.  A blood curdling scream emanated from deep within their father, and pierced the late afternoon sky.  Then, almost as quickly, the sound stopped as the vicious bear grabbed the helpless man in its jaws, by the throat, tossing him nearly twenty feet.

Mercilessly, and though Baxter’s body made no attempt to move, the bear pressed the attack, when the two boys witnessed something they would never forget.  As their father’s killer advanced on his lifeless body an apparition appeared.  The gray haired man, wielding nothing but a bowie knife, leapt on the back of the great beast and began attacking it with the fervor of a banshee. 

Roaring, the monster stood to its full height of nearly ten feet.  The gray haired man loosed his grip, and athletically dropped to the ground.  He immediately attacked with the knife again, plunging the blade deep into the massive animal’s back, just above the tail.  Almost instantly the grizzly swung its claws, pivoted, and returned to all four legs. 

The gray haired apparition was faster, though, and dropped to his back.  Laying flat on the ground he attacked again, working the knife deep into the beast’s inner right thigh.  He deftly wielded his instrument of death, and used the momentum of the enormous animal’s movement to pull himself free of its clutches.

Badly injured, the grizzly momentarily halted the fight, moving off ten yards.  Both boys stood frozen once again, barely able to fathom everything that had happened in the last few minutes.  The bear grunted and groaned as it sat down on its haunches and began licking at the large wound on its inner thigh.  Blood spurted from the fatal injury to its femoral artery.  Time was no longer on its side.

With an immense serenity their gray haired savior approached the terrible animal.  As he neared, it fell to the ground, only seconds from death.  Baxter’s two sons watched as he took the ferocious beast’s massive skull in his hands and spoke to the animal in a language they couldn’t understand.  He gently caressed the bear’s head while he spoke into its right ear.  Though they did not understand, his tone was soothing, and after thirty seconds the dreadful creature stood, and ambled into the nearby stream.

His well tanned skin glistened with sweat and he watched the bear until it had disappeared under the current.  Quiet filled the canyon now, and the sound of his own breathing was all that he heard.  Turning, he moved toward the young men, and though their terror had subsided, the brothers still stood, frozen in place as he approached.

“You boys have names?”  He delivered the question with the slightest hint of a southern accent and the eldest son replied.

“My name is Willy, and his name is Tad.”

“And your father’s name is Abraham Lincoln then, I presume.” 

Willy knew that they had been named after the 16th president’s children, but he replied flatly.

“No, his name is Jeff.”

“OK then.”  The man’s smile was whiter than any they had ever seen before, and his eyes were bright blue.  “Let’s see if we can help him.”

As the three moved toward the body of Jeff Baxter the scene was grisly.  His bowels protruded from the wounds inflicted by the bear’s slashing claws, and great puncture wounds were clearly evident in his neck.  Their father’s face was a mask of blood, and Tad cried uncontrollably at the sight.

“Papa.  Papa.  Wake up Papa.”

“Shhhhhh.”  His voice was soothing and without knowing why, the brother’s trusted the stranger implicitly.  “I think he’s going to be alright boys.  All you have to do is trust me.  Just stay right here and don’t move.  I’ll be back in a jiff.”

With that the Good Samaritan leaned over, picked up the body of the badly wounded man, and quietly carried him toward the stream.  The canyon was almost perfectly still now.  Only the sound of the water gurgling across the rocks disturbed the tranquility.  Willy and Tad did as they were told, holding their ground, but watched as their father was carried into the water.

Their rescuer disappeared, Jeff in his arms, under the water, and after a minute had gone by, the boys became apprehensive.  Tad fidgeted nervously, scanning the area for predators, and Willy took a few steps toward the water.  He craned his neck, attempting to make out the men’s outlines in the mountain runoff.

“Willy, he told us to stay put.  I think we should stay put.”  Tad had spoken and for the first time in his life, Willy obeyed him.

“You’re right Tad.  I’m sorry.”  Almost another five minutes passed, and the brothers’ apprehension soared to new heights.  “It’s been almost five minutes.  I haven’t seen hide nor hair outta…”

At that moment a soaking wet mass of tousled gray hair emerged from the water.  Slowly he made his way across the current and approached the two boys, the lifeless body of their father still in his arms.  Gone, though, was the mask of blood.  More importantly, however, the wounds to his belly and neck seemed to no longer exist.  Looks of astonishment were evident on the sibling’s faces as the man spoke.

“I think he’s going to pull through boys.  We should get him home, though.  Do you live around here?”

“What did you do to him?”  Willy spoke up, asking the question both children wondered.

“It was nothing really.”  He flashed his pearly white grin as he spoke.  “I learned a few things from a great Navajo medicine man a number of years ago.”

“We’re from St. Thomas.”  Tad answered the first question.

“St. Thomas?  What in the blazes are you doing way out here?” 

“We are out hunting for deer” Willy answered.  “Father thought that we would have good hunting after the rains.”

“Your father is a wise man.  I suppose I will take you all the way back to St. Thomas then.”

“Actually, our mom is at our camp at the top of the gorge” Tad interjected.  “You could just help us up there, and we’ll…”

“Shhhhhhh” Willy interrupted.  “Remember what father told us?”

“Oh yes.”

“Your father told you never to go with strange men, or bring them to your mother.”  He spoke the words as the boys nodded their heads.  “Like I said before; your father is a very wise man.  Just once, though, I think it would be in his best interest if we got him to safety.  I’ll place your dad on the mule as comfortably as I can and we can proceed up the mountain.”

“Won’t it be dark soon?”  Willy asked the question.

“I suppose it will be young Willy, but that is of no matter.  We’ll have a full moon to navigate by tonight.  The two of you can ride on the mule as well.  We’ll be in camp before you know it.”

The two boys relented and within minutes the mule was loaded and ready to go.

“What about our deer?”

“Yeah, what about our deer?”

“Yes, the reason for all this trouble; a lousy deer.”  He paused before continuing.  “I suppose I could field dress it pretty quickly and we could load it onto the mule, but you boys would have to give up your seats.”

“That’s what I want to do.”

“Me too.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

 

***

 

Neither boy complained on the entire return trip to camp.  The man with gray hair had set a grueling pace, expecting the brothers to fold, but they had surprised him by striving to persevere.  He garnered a respect for this family he had not afforded most in recent years, and when they had arrived in camp, the mother hadn’t let him down either.

She was a fiery woman who listened intently to the imaginative story of her sons while keeping a wary eye on the stranger in their midst.  He had unloaded the still unconscious Jeff Baxter into her personal tent, and though she was cautious, something about the unfamiliar man instilled trust.  Both boys should have been wiped out from the day’s ordeals, but adrenaline kept them awake, and as Lindsey tended to their father they sat with the stranger by the fire.

“So you boys were just down to hunt some mule deer huh?”  He struck up conversation.

“Not just mule deer.  We saw gold fall from the sky!”  Tad’s description caused the other two to laugh.

“I told you it wasn’t gold Tad.  Seriously, though, we saw a meteorite or something shoot through the sky, clap like thunder, and land down there” Willy spoke excitedly before lamenting.  “We forgot to see if we could find it.”

“Do you mean these?”

From his pocket the gray haired man pulled two smooth objects.  The glow of the fire coupled with the full moon shining brightly, danced across their glossy finish.  Colored a deep black, the objects seemed to have inscriptions upon them.

“You found them!  Are they meteorites?”

“Are they gold!”

“No.  No.  They aren’t meteorites, nor are they gold.”  The stranger laughed as he moved the two objects in his hands.  “It’s going to be a little hard for me to explain to you what exactly they are.”

“Can I hold one?”  Willy’s desire for knowledge fueled him.

“Can I hold the other one?”  Tad mimicked his brother’s wishes.

“Well, I don’t see why not.  Be careful, though, they’re delicate.”

“They came shooting from the sky and crashed to earth without getting a scratch.  How delicate can they be?” 

“Very astute Willy” laughed the stranger, “very astute indeed.”

He handed each boy one of the oval shaped objects and their faces told the entire story.  Tad’s expression changed very little as he felt the heat of the item.  Willy’s expression, however, changed dramatically.

“It’s heavy.  Way too heavy for its size.  I mean, this rock is only about twice the size of an egg, and the same shape, and it must weigh ten pounds!”

“It weighs exactly three thousand, nine-hundred grams, or roughly nine pounds.” answered the stranger.  “Also, it’s not a rock.”

“What’s a gram?”  Tad asked.

“They use it to measure stuff in Europe.”  His brother replied quickly so he could ask more questions.  “If it’s not a rock, what is it?  Why is it so warm?  What do these markings on the sides mean?  Why does it feel like mine is pulling itself towards the other one?  Why would…”

“Take it easy Willy.  You’ll blow a gasket.”  He smiled again at the eagerness.  “I’ll answer your questions, but I want to show you something while I do.  You’ll have to give them back to me, though.”

Tad handed his object back promptly, but Willy held onto his, wanting to inspect it more, before reluctantly submitting.  The deep black color of the two mysterious eggs seemed to blend into the night, and the boys watched them intently.  As the stranger stood, he spoke with a purpose.

“You see boys, these two objects are quite important to me.  A very long time ago I used them to help achieve a very specific goal.”  As he spoke the stranger touched the two objects together, twisted each a turn counter to one another, and released them.  To each boy’s surprise, they began orbiting one another in the sky.  “You see, they aren’t rocks at all.  Have you ever seen a rock do that?”

“You’re doing a magic trick.”  Willy spoke the words hesitantly.

“I love magic!”  Tad’s youthful exuberance was refreshing and the gray haired man smiled once again.

“This isn’t magic boys.  This is science” he explained.  “These eggs are made of a very exotic element, and this element is made up of almost pure energy.  The reason they feel warm to the touch, is that the energy stored inside always keeps them warm.  These particular objects always come in matching pairs, and when I touch them together in a specific way they become active.”

“So that’s what the writing on the sides is about?  Activating them?”  Willy’s question was thoughtful.

“Very good Willy.  See, you understand them quite well.  They are warm because they are energy, and they are attracted to one another because of the same energy.”

“I noticed that they are moving around each other in a specific pattern.  What would happen…”

His question was interrupted by a long snore from Tad.  The activities of the day had taken their toll on the youngster.  Before continuing the stranger laid the boy’s head on a rucksack he figured was meant for a pillow.

“They are moving in a pattern Willy.  It’s the sign of infinity they are making.  Do you want to see something really neat?”

“Yes.”

“OK, come here.”

Willy stood and walked to where the two objects moved through the sky. 

“Without touching the other, I want you to take one object out of its orbit, and touch their main inscriptions together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Watch me.  I’ll do it once, but it takes a total of three times in short succession.”  The stranger pulled one of the objects from the sky, and as the other still circled, allowed their largest inscriptions to glance off one another, then released the original object back into its orbit.  “Do exactly that three times, and then you’ll see something truly amazing.”

Anticipation mounted quickly as the eight year old Willy grabbed the energy mass from the sky.  He held it solidly in position as the other came into contact.  Three times the objects touched, and he quickly released his grip. 

Both of the glimmering black orbs vibrated in mid air before coming together.  Willy took a step back from them as they hovered side by side in the sky for what seemed an eternity.  Almost imperceptibly at first, the two objects moved up, separated, moved opposite one another, and proceeded to outline the shape of a box in the air.  Coming back together they hung for exactly one second longer.  What happened next caused the youngster’s jaw to drop.

In the sky, as clear as if she were standing in their midst, appeared a little girl.  She wore a green dress, which showed from underneath her wool coat, scarf, and mittens.  Her cheeks were rosy, and she smiled as she held two identical objects in her hands.  She threw them in the air, and attempted to bat them to the ground.

“What, what, what…  What is happening?”  Willy’s tone was fearful.

“Don’t be afraid.”  The stranger’s voice was soothing and he could see the young man’s demeanor shift back.  “What you are seeing is a representation of another person who has found a set of these bundles of energy.”  At that time a large man entered the picture, seemed to scold the girl, and she hid the objects in her pocket.  “Would you like to see another?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve got it.”  The stranger reached out, motioned with his finger, and the scene in the sky changed.  It was replaced with a single object, buried in the sand on a pristine white beach.  “Now that one.  That’s the one right there.”

“What do you mean?”  Willy’s inquisitiveness had returned. 

“Thirty nine of these objects exist; nineteen pairs and one all alone.  It’s the key to the whole thing.  If you can’t tell from the holographic image that one is quite a bit larger than the others and it has…”

They were interrupted when Lindsey Baxter stepped from the tent.  The stranger who had saved their father’s life quickly snatched the two floating eggs from the sky, and the images disappeared.  As his mother walked over, Willy met eyes with the stranger who winked, and held a finger over his mouth.  He understood, and vowed to himself that neither he nor Tad would utter a word.  It was a vow he was willing to take to his grave.

 

 

********************

 

 

STAY TUNED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment.  Then you'll always know when I've posted!  Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like.  It only takes a second using the share button below.  Thanks!