One year and one week Later

One year and one week Later

I’ve added a title to this post. So in terms of waiting this draft has been more than patient, but; am tired of ranting and would rather post stuff that is more uplifting than my general holiday based….”we have been invaded by gigantic alien spiders who really don’t give a hoot if humanity notices or not; they’re quite happy with the loot.

They’re awfully big, came from a launch pad on the dark side of the moon, and spend their time fishing the dimensions for delectable morsels for their tribes. I think they’re tribes, because they seem to follow some sort of free booting piratical hierarchy, although there is a queen that is an awful lot bigger and to her they defer. And she defers to my mood. Yes, yes I know, awfully presumptuous of me to assume the aliens are holding off wiping out humanity until I deal with my angst over life and the human condition; but that is exactly where 99.99% of you are blissfully unaware of the capriciousness of my mood and the Queen, may she devour a thousand galaxies, is running a betting pool on the side, giving odds on whether or not I order the artillery unleashed based entirely on my morning ritual either beginning with a scream, or beginning with a grunt, or that extremely (7 to 1 on) luxurious stretch of contentment from a life well lived, and rolls over and goes back to sleep. So far, she is ahead in the unseelie court by orders of magnitude and Ra, Sun god of note (he gambles…a lot…and he owes.) is nervously eying the contents of the old man’s bag because he suspects his replacement is in there…or his father, coming yelling about his choice of drinking companions in the off hours and if he would decide to dress a little more appropriately than for a bordello and such.

Being enslaved/sacrificed by the powers that be to keep her company is, I guess, a high point in my otherwise drab life of cunning adventure and work avoidance, but like any good hero, I would really like to run away…but I cannot, I’m low on fuel, 90 miles from the next community, 100 miles from the next human soul, and trapped inside a little red and White House on the Eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains, built entirely over a sacrifice pit of untold size and dimension, at dawn, at the gates of dawn…calculate it yourself, use the book of the dead, and definitely throw in early math, the birth of physics and mapping, astrology, navigation and just a few arc seconds of deviation and guess what you will find when you go look on the satellite app…a little red and White House, or better yet…nothing because they have the null point completely surrounded and my stories have been to keep the invaders laughing while they stage for the infestation…and every piece of data I create goes into their salivating maws.

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