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

I don't know what they want with the President, but as for meself, the lads just wanted me to make a courtesy call to some blasted television station in Roswell, New Mexico. The Greatest Of Greats merely wanted me to ask them for a copy of a silly program they had been receiving on television from earth...."

I see; just what exactly transpired with that, as you say, courtesy call?

"Well, a bit of a disaster, I'm afraid. The saucer crashed into a blasted weather balloon but my very dear colleague and friend, Derf, was kind enough to transport me back to my time frame. If you're familiar with the infamous rumor about a saucer crashing there in 1947, it's true... it was us. Bloody dreadful, it was. I was given the responsibility of notifying the US government about some grievances, expressed by the Council of Councils, concerning Apathonians being held here against their wishes. But, Peter, I don't really feel comfortable discussing much more than I've told you..."

Yes, Mr. Endicotsley, I understand you don't want to put your family through anymore than what it's gone through already, and of course, there's also the family's safety to consider....

"Oh well, it's not really that so much as I don't want to give out any more information until the book comes out in May..."

Thank you, Dr. Endicotsley... I'm Peter Waylon Jennings, and we'll be back after these messages.
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(Episode 10)
The Apathonian sun, Genodrah, was just on the verge of descending when Kram directed the pilot to find a secluded place to land in the Apathonian Evajom Desert, just outside of the capitol city of Tralalaboomdia. The flaming moon was just coming up over the eastern horizon, so we had no trouble perceiving a safe place to land after the Genodrahn sun had at last set.

The evening was filled with all sorts of strange sounds of various desert wildlife. The Evajom Desert was a ferine place during the planet's summer months as species preyed on other species for survival. In the distance one could hear the howling of the three-headed dongwazzle, a coyote-like canine with three heads that took turns eating, sleeping, or other doing other necessities, while the other two remained alert as caution against an attack from dissimilar animals that targeted them, such as barkbiters, or flying trees. They literally uprooted when a dongwazzle unsuspectingly took liberty on one of them, and attacked by pouncing on their victim while its roots would imbed into their skulls, and absorb their brains one head at a time. Dongwazzle is also a very kosher Authoritarian dish.

It never rained on the small pink planet of Apathonia, but the inhabitants never suffered for water because its large center core, starting at just less than 10 kilometers below its surface, was filled with liquid hydrogen. However, the barkbiters tore from their roots during the hot season, and flew heedlessly south in search of more shallow ground. The average mean temperature was around 20 degrees Celsius in the summer months and 15 degrees in the winter, so Apathonia was by far quite a cool planet in comparison with the Earth.

After walking some two hours, Kram located the gathering's dugout deepset in the fringe of a plateau. When we approached the metal shrapnel door, Kram had not knocked yet when the door slid open as several faces peeked outside. The Authoritarian fold were elated to see that Kram and his disciples had returned ok, but became timid as they noticed me following behind.

"Brothers and Sisters," Kram spoke, "I have brought to you the Great Divine Author!!!!"

All immediately sensed an inevitable liberation from the Greatest Of Great's evil empire would be soon underway, and rushed to my feet and began washing them with their tears, as I gently rubbed their smooth bald heads. "What is it you ask of me, children?... tell me what it is you want..."

"We want our freedom," they cried, "and our own America!!"

"You must learn to deem yourselves worthy of freedom... and soon you'll find your own America!!!" I insisted, lapping up all of the reverence being given me, like milk.

"Are you the Intellectually Inept?!" One of the elders asked.

"No! The Intellectually Inept are those who want to rob your minds... Depart from them, and look instead to follow the examples of the Cognitive Elite!" How everyone was still able to breathe I don't know, being it was starting to get REAL deep.

"Who are the Cognitive Elite, oh Great Author?"

"A certain schoolboy was flunking Algebra," I began, "He pleaded for assistance, though no one would help. Everyone was busy going on lunch break or going to recess, until finally he met a math tutor who was not only willing to help him with his homework, but furnished him with a place to study. The student not only passed the course, but received a B in the class.... I tell you the truth, all that refused to help him before failed to study, and there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth come test day when he refused to give them the answers!"

"Master, we don't understand, you speak in parables," one of the Authoritarians bemoaned.
"Don't you understand, even yet? Once you have discovered the Cognitive Elite within, the Intellectually Inept will quit pestering you!" Boy was that profound, I got duck-dots with that one! "Come, let us reason together, and we will overthrow the Greatest of Greats!"

I then passed out a stack of paper tablets and pencils to everyone, and told them to not be afraid, but boldly write out their their secret ambitions. This was to weed out the feeble from the courageous for the reason that some would become discouraged... and realize that coming after me to risk all was much too costly. "Everyone who's still with me.... let's march on the Buildings of Buildings to put the Greatest of Greats in her place. Once she's been overwhelmed with your self detemination... we win!!!"
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(Episode 11)
It was a beautiful Sunday morning in God's heaven as he was strolling in his garden of paradise, treating a few new residential neighbors to a guided tour (Jehovah, of course, was head of the Welcoming Commitee). He was pointing out to them the vine that grew around Jonah while he laid in anger toward God for not punishing the Ninivites, in the Old Testament. Someone spoke up and quizzed the Holy Of Holys if there was any validity to the story of Adam and Eve. "Well," he emphasized, "if you look over there, that's the tree of knowledge from which they partook and received the curse. I bet you can't guess what kind of fruit it grows," Jehovah questioned.

"Uh, excuse me most gracious heavenly Father, but I have two PhDs... one in biblical studies concerning how the Old and New Testament parallel each other concerning messianic prophesies and fulfillment, and another in the study of Jewish customs, concerning the Passover in the year of Jubilee... According to the extensive research I have performed, I found that the 'forbidden fruit' scenario was just figurative," a liberal scholar advised.

"Nope," God disagreed and shook his head, "It was kiwi. Adam and Eve lived on the outskirts of the Bay Of Plenty at the time, in New Zealand, and weren't supposed to mess with that particular tree. I told them they could eat anything else, but the kiwi was mine... So for their disobedience, I sent them North to kangaroo country where a Tasmanian Devil tormented them for generations, by forcing them to consume nothing but apples."

"So tell us, God, why are you not in church this morning, it's Sunday you know..."

God joyfully laughed, "Nah, I'm too much of an iconoclast for all that... just kidding!" His audience didn't know how to react to his sense of humor and were extremely afraid to laugh. "I wish you folks would check out a joke book or two from the Divine Library, and loosen up!"

"Excuse me, Jehovah, you just received an e-prayer from someone in need of your assistance," Archangel Michael interrupted.

"Well, it'll have to wait on my own timing, I'm with my friends and showing them the garden right now," God grumbled.

"But, but, sir, it's urgent...it's...it's Billy Graham, sir!" Michael announced.

"Oh my, why didn't you tell me that in the first place?!" God immediately ran inside as Michael explained to the others, "I'm sorry, you'll have to understand that when Mr. Graham speaks, even God listens."

Jehovah immediately took his PC out of sleep-mode (he used to just let it run at all times-- until he received last month's whopping bill from The Holy Ghost Power & Electric Company) and went online to his inbox to retrieve the following message:


DEAR HEAVENLY FATHER,
WE COME TO YOU, SIR, IN HOPES THAT IT IS YOUR WILL TO ANSWER ACCORDING TO OUR NEED. LORD, THE EX-PRESIDENT, CLYDE P. HIPWING, HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED BY A GROUP OF ALIENS FROM ANOTHER PLANET CALLED APATHONIA. LORD, IT IS OUR WISH FOR HIS SAFE RETURN. WE ASK THIS IN YOUR NAME, AND IN FAITH THAT YOU WILL ACT ACCORDING TO YOUR OWN GOOD WILL.

[email protected]


"That's what I like about Billy's prayers, quick, to the point, and in faith!.... But most of all, in plain simple text... unlike a few who try impressing me with their e-prayers sent in html language which only causes my mouse to freeze up." God groaned, "Oh Michael!!!!?"


"Yes sir, Lord!"

"Dispatch a group of angels to the planet Apathonia, and make sure no harm comes to the American President," God decreed.

"Pardon me sir, but we received a report earlier that he's living it up, pretending to be a Christlike prophet, and gaining a planet-wide following," Michael informed his Lordship.

"Hmmm," God rested his chin on his hand while leaning his elbows on the computer desk, "Well, I guess he needs a lesson taught him... bring him to me!"

"Very well, sir!" Michael smiled in anticipation, and left to dispatch his heavenly hosts.
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(Episode 12)
As the great Greek philosopher Esophagus once said, "don't chew more than you can swallow," President McCovey's job as leader of the free world was becoming quite an all-consuming burden, so he vowed to put aside all domestic and foreign policy until I was safely returned home. The public's ill disposition was rising as the government's explanation of the situation was vague at best.

"We ain't gonna rest till them Apathonians give in to my demands!!!" Ralph pledged to a gathering of reporters at a press conference in the rose garden.

"And just what are your demands, Mr. President, sir?" a pundit quickly asked as a follow-up then sat down again.

"If they don't return President Hipwing unharmed by next Monday...We're gonna blow their pip-squeak planet up with nuclear warheads! They ain't messin' with me!" The President pounded on his podium.

"But, Mr. President, we have no idea where their planet is! You really don't have a plan, do you, sir?" The reporter harped.

"Man, I'm outta here. I ain't gonna mess with you cats anymore!" Ralph huffed before storming back inside. The populace were in a state of panic, fearing that the aliens might come for just about anybody. The tabloids were having a great time capitalizing on everyone's fears, as they printed story after story about frequent alien horror stories. The President of "Ufologists For Jesus" was very openly outspoken in his opposition to all the negative press the aliens were given. "Let us go to them in love, and try to resolve this thing peacefully. Let