Aboard My Train Of Thought by Scott C. Endsley (best book club books for discussion .TXT) 📕

of 'The Weekly Oppressor,' laying open on his lap. "What is that?" he added, getting up to close the door behind me.

"Your Honorableness, this is my boom-box. You just gotta hear this... Hold on here, I've just got to make a few adjustments.... Oh darn, I can't believe this!... Where did I put it?"

"What's wrong, Claude?" Homer wondered aloud, "Did you forget your Forked Gyrating Mixmaster Rectifying Slope Tuning Horizontal Inverter?... Here, I've got one in my desk, you just never know when yer gonna need one of those cottonpickin' things, do ya?"

"Nope," I agreed, "you sure don't! Now, let's see if this contraption works..."

".....Hello, wha' ya want me to sing!?" Pete answered.

"Hello, Pete!"

"Ah blimey!" Pete swore, "Clyde!?"

I excitedly interrupted, "No Pete, for once I want you to sing, really!!!.. Do you know, 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow?!'"

"No kiddin'?! Sure, let me stop and think, I'm not too sure of the words.... Oh yeah, I think it goes like this; Some... where... Over-The-Rainbow..."

"What in the world is he doin?!" Homer complained, "Tell him to stop! That's horrifying!.....Tell Him To Stop!....CLAUDE! ....... WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME?!"

"A...Cow...Went...Mooo........." crooned Pete.

"You can't take it, can you? You were once a nice man, you were once my friend. But you turned on me, so now I'm turning on you. You've overstayed your welcome, Homer! It's time for you to go, or I'll make him sing louder and longer!!!" I threatened.

Pete continued "....Can't....Say.....How-She-Got-Up-There...."

Homer's eyes raged with fear, agony, and betrayal, "YOU'RE NOT CLAUDE, YOU'RE CLYDE!!! TELL HIM TO STOP, PLEASE!!!! AND I'LL LEAVE YOU ALONE!!!! I'M MELTING...I'M MELTING............. MELTING...MELT..I..N..G..., .M..E..L..T..I..N..G..G..G..G..G..G..G..G..........."

As melodious as a dentist drill, Pete added vibrato. "I-Guess....She.....Flew....."

"Ok, Pete, enough already. My, you sure stretched out those, otherwise short, eight bars!"

"Yep, so you'll be orderin' a copy of me album, 'Once Upon A Drum?'"

"I think I'll pass on that, Pete." I politely declined.

"Miserable lousy sod!" (Click!)

Just as Homer's liquefied flesh oozed down into the carpeted floor of the Oval Office, his secretary, Dorothy, who had just entered the room with a arm full of papers, and a sweaty brow, nonchalantly tossed them on the presidentual desk, clicked her ruby-red penny loafers together, then yawned, "There's no place like home!" And proceeded down the hall to clock out for the weekend.
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(Episode 19)
Since Claude, the Vice President, was identical to me, and no one new the difference; I was to inherit the powers that be, as the 43rd President of the United States of America. I had no experience in economics or foreign affairs. I couldn't have told you the procedures involved in trying to get a bill ratified. And I used to think that an Executive Order was the final command given right before you were shot in front of a firing squad.... but I did read a couple of issues worth of 'George' magazine that week!

Claude agreed to stay on as my double for when I couldn't be two places at once.... This worked well with the lobbyists, special interest groups, kiddy Easter egg hunts on the South lawn of the White House, and the most grim of all contingencies, having to be interviewed by Barbara Walters!

After the country had experienced tyranny at its worst, I reinstated the liberties the nation had once enjoyed. So fervent in my new convictions, I declared on a televised speech that I was no longer a Republican, nor was I a Democrat... I was quickly sworn in as the country's first fully Libertarian leader, with the goal of expanding freedom worldwide.

I reflected on my friend Ralph, of his liberal leanings and how he'd disagree with my conservative views. I expounded on the fact that in this country there was room for both, because, "WE are America! As diverse as we are, we are not a divided people, but stand conjointly in our strong belief concerning freedom and the pursuit of happiness for all."

The European community had been liberated as well. In gratitude for Maggie's bravery and nobility, England's Queen Elizabeth knighted her as: The Royal Bitch!

In Washington, a 40-story scratch-post was erected on Pennsylvania Avenue, in loving memory of Miss Matilda Waudlebaum; whose legends would surely be written in all the history books, along with George Birthington and his illustrious Washday.

Once in the White House, after cleaning out all traces of the Honorable Homer, I launched into working on my sequel. Later that afternoon, I put on my Sunday's best... as I was to attend to my very first function as President.... A book signing Party, paid for by my literary agent, Harold Hyde, at Hickle Hopper Hooper Harper Hinkley Harmon & Slovinski Publishing Company, to promote this very book, 'Aboard My Train Of Thought.'

And where should such a celebration take place? Why the newly expanded, Big Buford's Buffalo Barf Bucket Burger Bistro Breakfast Bagel Bar and Bookstore, naturally!


The End of Part One.
"Please pass the snot-rag."
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Part 2

Second Trilogy: The Lackluster Chronicles Of Apathonia

(1)Professor Endicotsley's Distant Cousin/ (2)Ringing The Celestial Doorbell/ (3)The Mark Of The Anti-Beast


(Introduction) It's a balmy late July afternoon at the presidential getaway, Camp David, as I am enjoying a frosty cold beer while aboard my mini yacht, The Wop- Bop- A- Loo- Bop -A- Bam- Bam- Boom (that's the way she sounds when you turn the engine and start the propeller).
After the first 2 months of my shaky presidency, I was beginning to realize I bit off a bit more than I could chew. I had not yet chosen a Vice President, even though I had received several notions of interest.

With the recent success of my previous book, Aboard My Train Of Thought, and my quick rise to the most significant public office in the world, my name became synonymous with conquering the improbability of chance; but no one knew of the lack of confidence that caged my boldness while trying to be an effective leader.

To add even more exacerbation to my woes concerning the loss of one of my best friends, my cat (Miss Matilda Waudlebaum), my only other companion, Maggie McMutt, my beloved canine, had just been offered an extravagant movie career and left for Hollywood.

A good year since my rise to world fame, I had become totally overwhelmed with the burden the requirements of my destiny into the White House had handed me; so I took a little time off to work on the manuscript of this second trilogy. And as surely as it's poor grammar to begin a sentence with and, this second one will most likely confound your already jelling gray matter as effectively as the previous collection of stories presumably already accomplished.

These next stories are the annals of my short-lived eminence and its outcome and are perfect for reading to your Aunt Minerva, as she lunches on tuna and watercress, while sitting in her beautiful rock garden beneath her darling chirping feathered friends hovering in the towering birch overhead...

Splat!!!!!!


PROFESSOR ENDICOTSLEY'S DISTANT COUSIN

(Episode 1)
"Bah!...Rubbish!" The old man growled, tossing the recently purchased book aside. "Train Of Thought, indeed! Why, what ever happened to the classics?..... Whatever happened to say..... The Grapes Of Wrath?"

"Pardon me, Professor Endicotsley, but you partook of the grapes last night; and the wrath got us both up quite early this morning," Edith, his live-in nurse quipped.
Giles Endicotsley, a wealthy widower just a shade past 82 years of age, was quite a bright sort. Though retired from teaching literature and history at several universities around the country, he still kept abreast of the new schools of writing. "Edith, what's the literary world coming to with trash like this?"

"What on earth did you buy it for, Giles?" Edith asked.
"Well, aside from the fact he's the so-called leader of this nation, I had to see what a Hipwing had to say. See, me mother's maiden name was Hipwing, her Grandparents immigrated from Ireland into Scotland in the middle of the 19th century, although in our ancestral lineage we kept the Catholic faith... despite the dominance of the Presbyterian church in that country and space of time. Being Mr Hipwing has the same surname as she, I gathered the scoundrel is a distant relative," he huffed, puffing on his imported $200 genuine meerschaum pipe.

"Very fascinating, Professor Endicotsley, but it's time for your morning bath...Outta your jammies!"

It was a typical southern California mid-morning. The heaven-like, mythical looking fog rolled out of the sea, as the breeze played with the peach colored curtain lace next to the the professor's bathtub. "Ah," Giles sighed, "honeysuckle... I love the scent of honeysuckle."
"Professor Endicotsley!! Get your nose out of the john!!" Edith shouted, "or I won't buy anymore toilet bowl freshener!"

Edith was a young 35 years of age, never been married, and never wanted to be. She took up nursing after failing at everything else, in hopes of finally doing some good in the world. She grew quite fond of the old professor while attending several of his courses at UCSB in Santa Barbara, where he was teaching. The two became very close over their few semesters together, and when he retired, Giles asked her to become his part time secretary...to manage his finances. Over time he became sick with age, so for a small wage, Edith volunteered to take care of him in his latter years.

"Oh Edie, I've been cursed with another day of life," he groaned.
Edith, knowing how to get him going in the mornings, prodded, "So, Giles, tell me about your childhood, you never make much mention of it...."

"Well Edith, I was born a poor Scotch-Irish lad in the North of the Highlands. Me mother, rest her soul, worked hard to keep the family fed--- Mum Hipwing would travel for miles in the mornin' come wind, rain, snow, or heat, over the mountains, braving every sort of wild beast just to go to the nearest village and buy groceries for the family." He puffed again on his large bowl.

"And your father?......" She asked while tying the laces of his shoes.
"Well, me father was a no-good. While me mum would be doing that, he would be loafing around reading... usually books on, say... brawny women who would brave every sort of wild animal in search of groceries for her family......You know, the stuff that made great books."
Edith stood to her feet. "Very fascinating, Professor Endicotsley, but it's time for your medicine. Which is it this morning......the red ones, or the blue ones?"
"Drab!!!!! For Heaven's sake, not the those blue ones again!!!!........ JOKERS!... FETCH MY CONCUBINES!!!!!.......TELL THEM TO BRING THE GRAPES!!!!!!.. I'M GONNA BE BLOODY CONSTIPATED AGAIN!!!!!" He yelled.

Edith, humoring him, laughed and handed him his meds and a large glass of orange juice, then wheeled him up to the morning paper as he began browsing for fair game, armed with his cunning commentary tongue.

"Well, let's see what that blasted cousin President of mine is doing to this poor ol' country today... Drab,