Took this pict of cloud with moon face... Strafe because it's Moon festival in Taiwan.


-- Posted from my iPhone

My Week as Elvis’s Personal Impersonator: Fiction by SCW

It all started on that sweltering summer day in Las Vegas. I just turned twenty and had an up and coming position at the local Dairy Queen. I was in charge of the deep fry. The year was 1956 and I was temporarily replacing they guy who called in sick so I was stuck covering his position at the drive through order window. 

            An impatient fellow drove up and upon seeing an empty window, honked his horn several times to get my attention.

            “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” I said. “Hold your horses. I’m coming already.” I pulled the chicken out of the deep fry and sat it on the counter to cool. When I turned around I met one hell of an eyesore. Outside the window was a long pink Cadillac convertible. I laughed as I walked up and stuck my head out the window to get me a better look at this monstrosity of the automobile world.

            The driver watched me eye his vehicle from one end to the other. “Ain’t she a beaut? I just got her a few days ago. This baby purrs like a kitten.”

            “That she is,” I replied, remembering what my manager told me about the customer always being right. I couldn't help but wonder how this kid that was my age could be driving such an automobile, then I recognized him.

            He told me his order and I quickly got it ready and packaged. I walked up to the window and handed him the food. “There you go. Enjoy,” I said, but this guy kept staring at me like I did something wrong. “Sorry, did I forget something in your order sir?”

            “Actually no. I just noticed how much you look like me.” He leaned a little back to get a different angle view. “Hey, how would you like a job?” he asked.

            “Thanks, but no thanks. I got one here.”

            “Yeah, I see that. You must be raking in the doe eh?” He stared at my Dairy Queen hat holding back his laughter. “Look kid. I need someone just like you to pretend to be me for one week, see? I’m currently booked at the Venus Room at the New Frontier Hotel. I’m billed as the Atomic Powered Singer. I’m sure you have heard of me.”

            “Uh huh,” I replied, not wanting to disappoint the kids ego.

            “Hey!” he pointed at me. “I like that. Can I use that in my gig?” he inquired.

            “Use what?” I asked.

            “The uh huh. It will make me sound like a rebel. Like I don’t care. It really fits me.” He continued to repeat the two sounds over and over again. He turned up the radio when he realized it was his own song. “Hey, I sang that! Kinda weird hearing on the radio and all.” He looked back at me. “Look the job pays $500 for the week, take it or leave it. All you have to do is walk around the hotel waving, nodding at fans. God knows I need to get out of this town for a while. I’m thinking about visiting my folks back Memphis, Tennessee.” 

            I couldn’t believe my luck. It was more money than I would make in six months of deep frying. “Well…”

            “Alright, you broke me down. You can also put all your meals, drinks and bets on my tab at the hotel. Tough job having people slave over you hand and foot.”

            “Okay, when do I start?” I almost couldn’t believe my luck. This sounded too good to be true, but I figured I was getting burned out from the Dairy Queen and it might be my time to move on to greener pastures.

            “How long will it take to take that silly hat of your head?” he asked with a half grin.

            I flung off the hat and tossed it on the floor. I still had on my apron when I pushed open the glass door and exited the Dairy Queen, followed by the manager.

            “Where do you think you are going young man?” asked the manager in a stern voice.

            “To make a hell of a lot more than 35 cents an hour!”  I whipped off the apron and tossed it at him, jumping into the passenger seat of the pink Cadillac convertible.

          

Apollo 18, We’re Back! Fiction by SCW.

West took his first step on the lunar surface, slowly swinging his head around to glance at his extraordinary surroundings. He took a deep breath, feeling the isolation of the moment and glaring at the blue planet above him.

West hit a button on his sleeve. “Houston, I have left the lunar module and am setting up the live cam.”

“That affirmative Apollo. We are waiting with many TV cameras waiting for the setup. Eyes of the world will be watching.” Static interrupted Houston over the speaker.

He finished setting up the camera tripod and solar panels, slowly walking back to switch on the video for a live worldwide feed.

“Okay Houston. You should have live video in 5, 4, 3…” West almost froze in horror as he heard a powerful humming noise emanating from behind him causing his very suit to vibrate. He pressed the button on his bulky suit sleeve, but as he turned around toward the camera, he saw a back of what looked like a cute little squirrel peering into the live cam. “Houston, we have a problem.”

But it was too late. The world now knew the truth. The horror of it all.

written from my iphone.

A Day In The Life of a WWII Pilot: (Fiction) by SCW.

August 6^th, 1945. As I stood there in front of my F4U Corsair with six 50 caliber machine guns, little did I know that this would be the last time that I would set foot in my homeland. Perhaps had I known, I might have turned down the mission, if my arrogance had not been so overwhelming. On this very day, they sent me and fourteen other Corsair pilots on a mission to protect two Boeing B-29 Super fortresses. Each Bomber was carrying a payload of some magnitude because of all the importance given to this mission. All they told us was that we were headed towards a Japanese city called Hiroshima and by no means allow either of the bombers to come under enemy fire. One of the bombers was carrying a payload called “Little Boy” and boy was that a contradiction in terms. We came under fire by four Japanese Zeros, each armed with two 7.7 mm machine guns and two 20mm cannons. They were heavily armed, shooting down six of our squadron before they themselves were shot down. Fortunately the Zeros got nowhere near the B-29’s allowing us to go on to complete our mission.

Working hard, playing hard.

The weekends seem to belong to my son. Turns the big 5 this Thursday. Two wrapped B-day


gifts in the living room R making him nuts.


-- Posted from my iPhone

Dragons on my mind.

I have been kept busy with finishing up my new dragon novel. I've been so into it that I even dream about the critters.



-- Posted from my iPhone