It’s Fennekin!  Finally got this done!  Fire was hard to figure out!

cute and silly.


Not My Time Notes

Written by

Adam Kirby

Something I wrote a while back, a bit old…might need a little touch up.


Not My Time



August 19, 1973

            Phil Degosi, a man in his early thirties, a rising artist in New York, has sold his prize painting to the Manhattan Museum of Art.  He called it Acceptance of Death.  The scene seemed to be set during the Roman Era, it depicted a young lady in a red robe grabbing onto the arm of a young man in a black cloak, in the young man’s other arm was a scythe, and he had black angel wings on his back.

            Phil has a problem with dangerous drugs he uses to paint his pictures.   He claims it gives him inspiration, openly admitting this painting in particular came to him in one of his translucent mind sets. 

            During the party at the museum, after his work was bought, Phil excused himself to admire his work one last time.  The well dressed attendances at this event knew exactly what Phil left the room to do.  Phil took off his suit jacket, he rolled up his white dress shirt exposing the many track marks on his right arm, he tied himself off with his bow tie, and injected the poison he calls inspiration into his arm. 

            In his translucent state he could swear he saw a well dressed young man admiring his painting.  This is man had the appearance of being no older than twenty-five and no younger than eighteen.  He wore snakeskin boots black as midnight under extravagant black pants of the same shade.  He wore a white long sleeve button shirt under a long black overcoat with jet black round shades.  He had skin the color of bleached bones, average height, and gangly thin.  He had well kempt dark brown hair of medium length with a smooth face.

            “Young man I don’t think you are supposed to be back here.”  Phil said in a hazy tone.

            “Perhaps the same could be said about what you are back here doing.”  The dark dressed man replied back without turning around.

            “I’ve got a pass, I can go anywhere I want just for tonight.”  Phil sternly replied back.

            “I’m sure THAT is what they gave you it for.”  The dark dressed man scoffed while he continued to admire the painting.

            Phil froze in silence.  He saw the dark dressed man hold up his hands as if he were photographing his painting.  “I say, you captured the image finely.”  The dark dressed man said in an impressed voice.

            Phil suddenly felt a cold chill fall down his spine, something all of a sudden didn’t feel right to him, and it wasn’t the drugs or the bit of alcohol in his system.  He turned quickly to the door behind him and was shocked to see the dark dressed man already standing in front of him.

            “H-h-how did you do that…I didn’t even hear you move?”  Phil said in a timid voice as he began to back away.

            The dark dressed man wagged his finger.  “Ah-ah-ah a magician never tells his secret.”  The dark dressed man said in a strange tone.

            Phil turned to run in the other direction, but was startled again to see the dark dressed man already in front of him again.  “Who are you and what do you want from me?”  Phil shouted in fear.

            “You can call me Azrael and your time has come.”  Azrael beckon in a calm but dark manner.

            Phil started to have a quick glimpse of his entire life flash before his eyes.  No may career just started.  Phil ran past Azrael, who didn’t seem to chase after him.  He turned every few seconds to make sure Azrael wasn’t chasing him, till he reached the end of the hall where the emergency exit was. Azrael was standing there waiting for him carrying his scythe, his face gaunt as if he literally was nothing but skin and bones, and his black wings spread out behind him.

            “Everybody always runs, but it always ends the same my friend.”  Azrael remarked as he lifted his scythe.

            Phil was like a ghost when the scythe made contact with his body.  As soon the blade went through him, Phil faded away as if his existence was cut away.  Azrael walked back to the painting to admire himself.  Behind him a small group of people were smacking at Phil’s face, checking his pulse, and putting their heads onto his chest listening for a heartbeat. Azrael continued to admire the panting well until the ambulance arrived for the body.  They attempted to revive Phil with no success.   Phil left the museum in a body bag.     


May 2, 2011

            Wallace Chambers clutched his chest as he sat in the break room of the bookstore.  He is the guest of honor at Eternal Knowledge Book Store chain in one of the better known malls in New York City.  He has had these chest pains for a while now, having had little sleep for a week from it, making him a bit delirious.  He’s not in the best condition to be anywhere outside a hospital at the moment, but his agent insisted he be there for the signing of his last book of his highly popular serious The Miles Chronicles.

            “Mr. Chambers—you feeling ok?”  The teenage girl asked trying to get Wallace’s attention. 

            Wallace painfully looked up into the cute little redhead’s green eyes.  “Yes just lost in thought my dear.”  Wallace bellowed trying to stay as casual as possible.

            “Well your table is all set up Mr. Chambers—and uh.” The red head girl shuffled her feet bashfully.  “Could you possibly sign a personal copy for me?”

            Wallace chuckled and picked up the hard bound copy of his book.  He admired the author picture of himself before he removed the jacket.  Although the whole picture was in black in white, you could still tell his hair was graying in the picture, his steel blue eyes staring directly into the camera, with light age on his face while he smiled. 

            “Sure dear.”  Wallace said lightly as he clicked his pen.  “And who do I make this out too?”  The red head pointed at her name tag.  “Alright Hello My Name Is Karen.” 

To my friend Hello My Name Is Karen,

Thank you for sticking with the serious all these years.

Wallace Chambers

            “I must say Karen you have to tell me your secret, because I started this serious in the seventies.”  Wallace joshed as he handed the book to Karen.

            Karen inspected Wallace‘s message and gave a girly chuckle.  “Well my mama back in Silverton had a few of them, but she gave them to me when I was twelve and I’ve been an avid reader of the series since.  I wish you didn’t have to end it.”  Karen blushed.

            “Ah Silverton, my son William lives there…he’s quite the famed detective ther—“           

            “What’s the hold up? People are dying to meet the author.  Karen have you been holding him up?”  The fat manager scolded.

            “My apologies I was the one who started a conversation with her.“ Wallace winked at Karen, “Must have lost track of time my apologies.”

            Wallace got up and left the break room, hearing the sounds of an angry fat man yelling at the poor girl.  Before Wallace reached the double doors to the sales floor, the heart ache throbbed again causing him to drop to the ground in pain.  Tears streamed through his eyes, but he sucked it up.  He looked through the thin windows of the door to see in armada of fans clutching his book in excitement.  Wallace loved the sound of cheers as he walked through the double doors and sat in a comfy chair behind a table with stacks of his books on display. 

            A dark dressed man was the first to walk to his table.  Wallace found this man peculiar to be wearing a black overcoat like that in late spring.  The man dropped the book on the table, the slam startling Wallace, causing him to clutch his chest again.

            Wallace stared curiously, an abnormal chill came to his soul when he looked into this man’s shaded eyes.  “Who should I make this out to?”  Wallace asked in a mundane tone.

            “Azrael would be fine.”  Azrael replied in airy voice.

            “Azrael huh what a peculiar name—“ 

            Wallace looked down at the book to see it was something he clearly never written in his life.  It had a cover with a picture of a lady in a red robe clutching onto a young man in a black cloak carrying a scythe. 

            “Is this some kind of joke?”  Wallace scolded.

            “No joke at all, I thought this cover suited better.”  Azrael casually answered.

            Wallace rolled his eyes and went ahead and followed this stranger’s request.  He opened the book and his heart sank when he read what was already written in the book:

Your Time Has come Wallace Chambers

Wallace looked around to see worried jaw dropped faces.  He got up out of his chair and turned to see Azrael already standing in front of him.

            “Jesus!  Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people like that!  I didn’t even see you move.”  Wallace said timidly.

            “I grow tired of hearing that I really do.”  Azrael held out his hand. 

            Wallace like everyone centuries before him ran for dear life.  He left Eternal Knowledge book store and into the shopping center of the gigantic mall itself.  For someone who moved as fast as he did earlier, Wallace didn’t seem to find Azrael chasing after him, none the less he continued to run until he reached the clothing store on the other side of the mall.

            Wallace noticed everyone in the clothing store, much like the whole mall, was standing still as if time froze itself.  He was not carrying anything except the pen he intended to use to sign books, but the theft alarm went off when he entered the store.  Wallace prowled the store, keeping alert for if Azrael was behind him.  He walked by a manikin, it was holding one arm up and the other on its hips, staring off into space.   When Wallace passed it, he did not notice the manikin slowly turning its head in his direction.  He went into one of the dressing rooms to hide and think of a plan.

            Wallace fell to the ground in fear.  He curled up into a ball, leaning against the wall, but soon got startled by his reflection in the dressing room mirror.  It was Azrael as his reflection, he got up and so did Azrael at the exact same moment.  He waved his right hand while Azrael did the same and then the left.  He inched closer when Azrael leaped out of the mirror. 

            He looked a lot different than before, he had absolute no muscle literally nothing but skin and bones.  His round shades were gone, his whole eyes were black, dark angel wings were on his back, and he carried a scythe in both his hands.  He pinned Wallace to the wall with the handle of his scythe, amazing him by the strength.

            “They always run but it always end the sa—“ 

            Azrael tried to say before Wallace kicked in into the mirror.  Wallace ran out of the clothing store, looking up to see the boney monstrosity soaring above him with his scythe clunched in his bony hands.  Wallace managed to get to the double doors of the mall.   After pushing them open there came a bright blinding flash. 

            Wallace unshielded his eyes.  “This is New London…what am I doing back in Ohio…”


May 26, 1956

            It was close to midnight and Wallace Chambers found his childhood home a bit off, considering nowadays the place is practically a ghost town.  He walked by Mr. Shelter’s Candy Shop which was still opened and looked quite new, but the place had been closed down for twenty years.  He checked his reflection at the mirror like window of the bank across the street, which he seemed to still be all intact. Wallace had the appearance as if he hadn’t slept in awhile but he always looked like that, according to friends and family.  He noticed his dad’s solid red fifty-six Sedan with the all white interior, looking as it always did, fresh out of the factory.  The Sedan was racing to the direction of the hospital in Dayton.  Wallace followed by foot. 

            In the shadows of the alley between the bank and the antique store, Azrael stood and watched Wallace, dancing the tip of his figures on his scythe.  His black wings still spread out, his face still gaunt like a skeleton with black pearls for eyes.  He opened the back door to the antique store, but instead of an antique store on the other side, it was an empty waiting room of a hospital.  As Azrael step through the door his body turned back to a normal human form minus the black pearl eyes, which he hid behind his round tinted glasses.

            By the time Wallace reached the hospital, a few hours had already gone by.  He noticed a lot of out of date cars on the road as he ran to the Dayton Hospital, but he was even more amazed that he managed to run that far with plenty of stamina to spare.  Wallace every so often would look over his shoulder to see if Azrael was behind him, he jumped every time he heard a rustle in the bushes.  He could feel Azrael around him but he couldn’t see where.

            The red Sedan was parked close to the emergency entrance.  Wallace peeked into the window of the car.   He could hear his father’s nagging voice screaming hands off the car Wallie!  Wallace swore he cared more about that car than he did about his own kids.  He didn’t care about his father’s car at this particular moment.   The most important thing on his mind is to find out why it was racing to Dayton Hospital. 

            The hospital staff had a late fifties vive to them, both doctors and nurses, even the people waiting to check into the hospital.  Wallace took out his cell phone to check to see the year was indeed 2011.  Of course Wallace thought to himself, if most of these people here are from New London…then that would make sense, considering New London always had progression issues, so it would have surprised me to see the place in the modern age.  But everyone looks outdated here and not everyone is from New London …Wallace progressed further into the hospital, no one seemed to try to stop him.  He explored the hospital till he reached the paternity ward to see a familiar face in there.           

            In the waiting room of the maternity ward, he saw his father nervously passing the waiting room.  Wallace grew suddenly pale at the sight of his father.  His hair was dirty blond instead of white, cut short, and slicked back.  He still had his trade mark sideburns that his mother always complained for him to cut off, his stern cold demeanor face, and hard blue eyes.  Even now that he looks younger he still is short but thin instead of stocky, he was wearing his plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, clean blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up, and brown work boots. 

            “Dad?”  Wallace asked in a scared tone, but he was not noticed.

            The door to the delivery room swung open, the doctor pulled down his mask when he faced Wallace‘s father.  “Congratulation Mr. Chambers it’s a boy!”  The doctor said ecstatically.

            Wallace‘s father jumped in joy by those words and rushed into the delivery room, the smiling doctor right behind him.  Neither of the two seemed to notice Wallace in the room.  He was a bit shaken, because he didn’t understand what was going on.  He looked down at a small stack of magazines to see the date on the corner say 1956.  His bewilderment was soon interrupted by the sound of clapping behind him.  Wallace turned around to see Azrael sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, clapping his hands slowly with his scythe in his lap, and nobody seemed to acknowledge him in the hospital either.

            “Greatest moment of a man’s life, wouldn’t you agree Wallace…you’ve been through this yourself.”  Azrael darkly remarked, sitting in that waiting chair like a king in his throne.

            “How long have you been sitting there?”  Wallace asked backing away, but got cut short by a cold hand on his shoulder behind him.

            Azrael chuckled, “Wallace this is a hospital even an idiot would know my presence would be strong in a place like this.”

            “How is it possible for you to be seeing me and not the other dying people?”  Wallace questioned timidly.

            Azrael walked Wallace out of the waiting room of the maternity ward with his arm around his shoulder, he lead him to the elevator.  He pressed no buttons to any floor, the gates closed themselves, and the elevator moved up to the intensive care ward.  They were in a corridor with an odd doorway pattern along the wall.

            “Observe my dear boy.”  Azrael demanded in a pleasing tone.  Wallace looked at Azrael funny after that command considering he looked tenfold older than this dark dressed man.

            Wallace heart sank and his skin went as pale as Azrael’s at the sight he saw.  Out of each room several black robed figures walked out, with disease ridden people dressed in hospital gowns accompanying them.  The robe figures lifted their hoods to reveal that same gaunt face Wallace saw from Azrael in that dressing room.  When they walked passed them they all had their pitch black wings out, with the sharp scythe in their left hand.

            “I don’t understand…so are there more than one grim reaper?”  Wallace asked in a puzzled tone.

            “That’s a name I get so tired of being referred to as…no those people are me look closer at them would you kindly?”  Azrael requested in a malevolent tone.

            Wallace inspected again to see them all dressed in the same clothing as Azrael, all their faces were exactly as his, and all of them looked back at him giving him chills of anxiety.  “How is that possible?”  Wallace shouted in fear.

            “I am everywhere Wallace.   I am behind you, above you, below you, and at every side of you.  You can run, but I will always catch up with you.”  Azrael explained slowly walking in front of Wallace.

            Azrael’s explanation had no effect on Wallace who ran anyways toward the elevator.  As he did so he watched all the multiple figures of Azrael cut the disease ridden people out of existence, his multiple figures faded with them.  When Wallace reached the elevator he anxiously pulled the gates shut and repeatedly pressed the first floor button of the elevator.  As the elevator began to descend Azrael cut his scythe through the rusty gates.  He leaped into the elevator but Wallace missing.  Amazingly Azrael kept his composure.  When the elevator arrived to its destination, instead of the first floor of the hospital he was in a farm somewhere in the rural area of New London.

            “I’m sorry Thunder. I need to put you down. That leg just won’t heal.”  The Rancher said to the injured white horse.

            A loud bang went off, followed by a sobbing rancher.  Azrael casually walked over to see a majestic white horse standing outside the pin.  He hopped on him bar back and continued his search for Wallace Chambers, riding off into the sun rise. 







Written by

Adam Kirby



                There will always be the single ray of light left in pure darkness.  That’s where my story begins, and that is where humanity’s epic tale comes to its climax…


Robert Shelling was driving through the rocky mountainous country side with his wife Mary that night.  They had tickets for the Opera in the city, where Robert received at work that afternoon.  Robert and Mary are reaching close to their retirement years, Robert being a Chief Editor at the local News paper office of the small city of Navarro, his wife Mary a third grade teacher at the local elementary school.  Mary didn’t want to go to the opera she wanted to stay home that night, but Robert insisted that they go, because they needed a little more class, and just plain needed to get out.

Out of nowhere came a loud triumphed swoosh coming from the sky.  “Did you hear that Bob?” Questioned Mary in a frantic tone.

“It was probably nothing dear…”Robert said in a malaise manner. 

Before Mary could reply back something incredibly large came crashing at the hood of the car, cracking the windshield horrifically. Robert swerved to the left and to the right drastically banging the car against the rock wall and guard rail till they came to a complete stop.  Both the husband and wife were panting in fear. Robert looked over at Mary for any injury, with luck on his side to see only minor scrapes, and the same followed for himself.  There were mysteriously large feathers falling from the sky and scattered all over the road.

“I think you hit a bird Bob…”Mary said in a rather panicky voice.

“That’s an awfully big bird Mary.”Robert replied while examining one of the feathers.






More Under Grey Skies Notes

Stranger of Silverton

Written By

Adam Kirby





Modern Day

            Alex walked on the shoulder of a busy highway street; with his baby fox Kit resting on his shoulder.  Kit was frantically looking at every car squealing past them, honking and calling Alex all sorts of obscenities, some even in different language.  Alex likes to call it his game of risk.  A young businessman, distracted by an important call was too late to notice Alex.  He tossed Kit up into the air, turned to mist right as that front bumper lightly tapped into his waist; only a ghostly silhouette of him remained in place.  The car came to a screeching halt, while Alex casually caught Kit with his right hand. 

            The man sighed.  He turned around to see a pale young man holding a small fox, his long dark brown coat flowing at the other cars passing by.  He slammed his door open and just stood there staring at Alex.

            “Tim I’m going to have to call you back…” The man said without taking his eyes off Alex while he hung up the phone.  The man looked at how Alex was dressed, particularly toward the dark red bandana tied in a pirate style on his head.  “You got a death wish kid!”  The man asked in a frazzled tone.

            “If I did, then God wouldn’t have blessed me with this long life of mine.”  Alex said, staring piercingly into the businessman’s eyes.

            “…The fuck is that suppose to…mean?”  As the man yelled he looked over at the reflection through the back of his car window.  His reflection was there, but all that was there on Alex’s perspective was what appeared to be a baby fox floating in mid air.  He frantically backed away, tripping to the ground, but still crawling away.  “Stay way, stay far the fuck away from me!” 



Under Grey Skies Note

Here is a segment in my Under Grey Skies series.

Under Grey Skies


Written By

Adam Kirby


                Archangel Stephany is the only person, possibly out of all of Planet 84 with a working telephone.   What it is hooked up too with no working phone lines is a mystery…  His phone began to ring excessively till his only working answering machine kicked on:

                “Hello you have reached the phone of Archangel Stephany and Thank you for calling.  Imagine the irony…me with the only working phone and I’m not here.  Just leave me a messa—*Beeeep*

                “Stephany…I’ve have come—“*Click*


I tend to be this type creature sometimes.

(via thebasedgunnar)


Give your heart to Jesus and check out these signs IHCers found last week


Read More

Awesome my picture made the top, thank you crazy church for being so damn insane.


Three Wishes

Something I was working in on that I forgot about enjoy.  FYI I know there are probably errors, this is the ruff first draft.

Three Wishes

Written By

Adam Kirby





No Wishes:  It’s a Mediocre Life

            Fargo Air Force Base, an American station located nearly at the southern edge of Rural England at the coast.  This is the home of young Thaddeus McCloud who his destined to follow in his father’s footsteps as the best fighter pilot right after Fredrick McCloud…if he would ever come around to ever doing so.  Since his birth late spring in 1988, Fred had grandeurs of this English-American boy would be in a flight suit by age ten…but that didn’t really happen.  Instead Thad embraced his English side and favored more of an explorer than a pilot.  

            Thad’s mother took a metal necklace that are used for dog tags for the American fighter pilots around the base and put a charm of a snarling wolf on it, because Thad was her little wolffie as she always said in his childhood.  Once Thad stopped growing, he pretty much wears the same clothing every day…which is not a flight suit that his father hoped to see him in.  Dark blue jeans, black/white tennis shoes, and a white t-shirt under a half zipped black hoodie jacket with white pull strings.  What pained Fred more is Thad favored him immensely in his physical appearance, except for some minor features from his mother Aeries.  His hair was brown instead of ginger orange and was not military cut…basically medium length and sort of wavy.  His eyes were brown, also favoring the steel wolf stare of his mother…which is way he had such a silly nick name growing up in that house.

            When the New Millennium came Thad got a new little brother Augustus McCloud, who favored more of his mother’s physical appearance with minor features of his father.  Fred was proud to see the boy happily wear a flight suit, he cut his hair in a mini orange Mohawk.  Once in awhile he would go exploring with Thad outside the air force base, but most of August’s exploring consisted of on base exploration…Thad did exploring there too when he was little, but August respected the restricted areas.  August was definitely the following Fred wanted, but somehow he is still bound in determined to get Thad into a fighter jet…mainly because he doesn’t get motion sickness easily.


            Thad was amazed how August complained very little on the half a day walk to Stonehenge…his whining will wait five minutes after their arrival.  Thad was amazed by ancient oddities or anything ancient for that matter.  He always gets a kick out of the tourists…even more when they ask him for directions. 

            August tugged on Thad’s hoodie sleeve, “Thad I’m bored can we go now.”

            “August we just got here.  Besides you’re the one who whined and stomped about wanting to join me today.”  Thad said rolling his eyes.  He looked over to see a cute girl looking over at him, “Hello miss I couldn’t help but see you looking at me.”

            The girl looked puzzled, Leider habe ich kein Englisch sprechen…“

            “My apologies I didn’t realize you weren’t from around here.  Should have known this is a tourist hot spot.“  Thad said rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

            “Thad, she doesn’t understand you.  So can we go now?“

            Thad darted a dirty look back at August who stock his tougue out at him, “Fine…you little twit…“

            “I’m telling mom what you called me.”  August scoffed.

            “Think I bloody well care what you say to mom, I’m twenty-three—what is she going to do…ground me?”  Thad chuckled.

            “Man you really are a loser.”


            Since Thad spends most of his time outside the American air force base, his accent is less American compared to August.  Sometimes August friends he made at the base childishly tease Thad for the way he talked when he was home at night.  It got so bad that when August had friends over, Thad would take a tent with him and sleep out in the rural plains, hills, even the beach.


            It was almost sun set when Thad dropped August off at the base.  He went out to the beach to the south of the base to watch the sun set.  He noticed a strange golden lamp in the sand at the foot of the rock he was sitting on. 

            “Huh?  You’re going into my collection of oddities,” Thad said as he placed the small oddly shaped lamp in his hoodie hand pocket.         

            After the sun was completely set and the full moon began to rise, Thad still sat upon the rock on the beach, gazing at all the stars in the sky.  It was relaxing, but he knows he’ll go home to the sound of August noisy electronics…so he is going to saver the relaxing sounds of the ocean.

            A cough out of attention startled Thad off the rock, “Bloody hell, you scared the dickens out of me!”  Thad blurted landing flat into the sound.

            Thad inspected this mysterious stranger, in a charcoal colour business suit.  He looked a bit like an accountant type…very off putting considering beside the Fargo Air Force Base this area is the middle of nowhere.

            “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you master.  You may call me Genie.”  Genie said extending his hand out for a handshake.”

            “Thaddeus McCloud, but Thad would do fine.”  Thad said in puzzlement.

            “Nice name young fella, nice name indeed—so what do you want, you only get three wishes.  Oh and I don’t do cliché demands like ‘I want more riches’ or ‘I want women/men…or sometimes a third one that is too embarrassing to talk about.”

            Thad darted his eyes left and right, “You’re a genie—you don’t exactly look like one?”

            “Even a genie’s fashion evolves Thad—so down to business what do you want?”  

            “Right now I want to go home—on my own accord thank you.  So see you later…uh…Genie.”  Thad demanded as he walked away.  He stopped and turned around to see Genie blankly standing there on the beach.


            Thad goes in and out of the base so often…day and night…that they don’t hassle him when he walks through the gate…of course it was even easier when he was a child.  Some the MP with their dog companions nodded as Thad passed by to the housing area of the base…the dogs also nodded by the way.  Upon coming home Aeries was frantically frying fish and chips, August was playing his loud shooter games on the big television in the living room, and Fred was in his throne of a chair waiting for Thad’s arrival.

            “Ah Thad my boy, glad to see your home,” Fred said as he watched Thad enter the living room.  “Were you in a scuffle down at the beach you’re covered in sand?”

            “No dad, some guy calling himself Genie snuck up on me—the bloody bastard—“

            “Thad…language!”  Aeries shrilled, peeking her head around the kitchen door.

            “Honey, August hears worse from the boys around base—sorry Thad continue.”

            “As I was saying—this bloke comes out of nowhere, I jolt, loosing balance on the rock I was sitting on, then into the sand I went.”

            “You know son, I know one place that would make you tough toward random strangers…”

            “Oh boy, this again…”

            “Hey, cut the cocky attitude…bad enough you strayed from your American heritage, but the least you could do is keep the McCloud name proud by hoping onto a jet and take the skies.”

            “When is it going to get into that thick skull of yours—I DON’T WANT TO BE A FIGHTER PILIOT…or a normal one for that matter?”

            “But look at you boy—you look just like me…except for those steely wolffie eyes, but your helmet would hide that feature.”

            “So because I look like you that makes me destined to be a pilot?”

            “Have I finally gotten through to you?”


            August paused his video game glaring at Thad and Fred, “Would you two keep it down I can’t concentrate here!”

            Thad rolled his eyes and gave a feral stare toward Fred, “I wish you’d just except I don’t want to follow in your footsteps.  Just except I like exploring, except I have interest in ancient oddities of the world, and except the Military life whether American or English is not for me!”

            Fred silently paused as he watched Thad paint in anger, “You know son your right—I’m sorry I’ve bugged you about this all these years.”

            “My dad wanted me to be a chief like him and I said no and joined the Air Force, so if you want to be an explorer go right ahead.”

            There was an odd empathetic tone in Fred’s voice.  Thad looked over at the window to see Genie wink at him.

            “Well thanks dad you took the words right of my mouth with that answer?”

            “Wash up a bit, diner will be ready soon son.”

            As Thad walked down the hallway he paused then turned around to see a stoic fighter pilot sitting in his throne in the corner of the living room, “So Grandpa back in the US really wanted you to be a Chief?”


            “Explains why something was off every time we went to see him growing up?”









And now, here’s a man riding a teeny tiny bicycle

It’s a method of getting to work you could fit in your pocket or purse.



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