Aboard My Train Of Thought by Scott C. Endsley (best book club books for discussion .TXT) π
Excerpt from the book:
Broke up into 6 short-stories, Aboard My Train Of Thought Is a humorous tale about a manic-depressive author and his accidental destiny into the White House; from there the story becomes even more bizarre-- is it all inside his head? Find out what REALLY, REALLY, REALLY happened at Roswell as the second half of the book takes us to a planet called Apathonia, where one of our hero's, Clyde P. Hipwing's, book ends up on the planet-- igniting a revolution. It all comes to a head with a mind blowing end. Are you ready for a ride?
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- Author: Scott C. Endsley
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"Uh tell us about that there mark that was discovered on all ten foreheads of that there beast, after he was um, deflated, so to speak..."
"A little yellow circle with a smily face, and the words 'have a nice day' written inside...." Elmo grinned with pride.
"Yep, that's the one. Now let's put the two together. Elvis is dead, and you put the mark on his forehead."
Elmo's demeanor changed immediately. "I play tiddlywinks, that don't make me no murderer!"
"You wanna tell me how that there mark was put on the General's forehead too, before HE was 'put out?!'"
"You forgot to include Irol, the Queen of the Apathonians..." Elmo smirked.
An unprepared Sergeant Wilco flipped through his scattered papers. "Uh, yeah, what about this Irol, Queen of....."
"Apathonia."
"Yes, that's right, what about her?" Wilco asked.
Elmo sat up and leaned right into the sergeant's face, with a long piercing crazed look of dare, an air of sheer unyielding fearlessness, and a voice of unadulterated boastful pride, as he whispered sadistically, "She didn't play tiddlywinks worth crap!"
"I believe I've had enough of this!!!" Sergeant Wilco yelled.
"Good, can I go home now and finish pickin' my cherries?" He retorted.
Pigglesworth was held for only three hours while they searched his home, but found no probable leading evidence, no not even a solitary begonia plant. He was written off as a lonely and eccentric fruit farmer, in need of a bath, shave, and hot meal... which they gave him for the trouble.
------------------------------------------------
(Episode 17)
Upon the evening prior to when we were to leave for Area 51 & 1/2, I along with Ira stippens, and Vice President Ross Parole, were treating Gerg to a barrage of American Movies. We were all do doing our best to try and comfort Gerg., as he was on nerve's end, wondering if Apathonia had been blown to bits, or had been spared. He thoroughly enjoyed 'The Brady Bunch,' but totally disdained 'E.T.'
"That was the uppermost hidious thing I've ever seen!"
"Don't blame me," Stippens remarked in self defense, "I chose 'The Blob.'"
"Why do you Earthlings always either imagine folks from other worlds as cannibalistic, idiotic, blood sucking, necrophiliacs," Gerg asked, "or adorable and affectionate, ignoramuses?! We're just people like you all!"
Ira, ever the insightful one, cross examined Gerg, "So what are your B-rated movies like on Apathonia, how do they portray, as you say, folks from other worlds?"
"Hmmmm," Gerg paused for a moment, "Good point, so sue me!... Anyone for a game of poker?"
"Come in..." I acknowledged a hasty knock on the door.
"Mr. President," the staffer said in a begging for pardon tone, "an Apathonian craft has landed on the South Lawn. We're holding someone who claims to be the Greatest Of Greats' brother. What do you advise, sir?!"
"Ekim!" Gerg rejoiced. "Maybe Apathonia has been spared!"
Gerg was rapturously relieved that his home planet was still intact, but in the light of all the chaos going on, he wasn't sure when it would or ever would be safe to return. I advised him he could stay in the Lincoln Bedroom for however long it took, but he chose instead, the Watergate Hotel. "It's a hell of a lot cheaper, thanks anyway, Clyde."
The morning afterward, we landed on the obscure runway at Area 51 & 1/2 in the middle of the Nevada desert, at 5am. A variety of military armored vehicles surrounded the plane. They were expecting us, but it was standard conduct, nonetheless. A number of troops, whose identities could not be revealed because of some sort of mask covering their eyes, nose, and mouths, matter-of-factly approached; and a commanding officer gave us all blindfolds then explained we would not be able to enter in without them. I asked them if they knew who they were dealing with. "Just procedure, Mr. President." I was respectfully informed.
Ira, Gerg, and myself were guided over to some sort of trolley car and secured with abnormally tight seat belts. We were told that the blindfolds would be temporal, but the long ride inside took at least a half an hour. "Gentlemen you may take off your blinders and exit your seats," the driver spoke.
At first view, the ceiling made me think we were in some sort of cave supported with hefty crossbeams. The adobe-like walls were lined from end to end with glass windows and chicken wire like protective steel.
"If you gentlemen will come over here," the driver waved, "I will start introducing you all to the occupants. Let's start here with Zolo, he's from the Saturn moon called Titan. Breathes pure methane, so we have ventilated his cell with the fumes of Area 51 & 1/2's sewage system. He is very valuable to us in developing a means for future astronauts to visit the likes of his planet. ....Mr. President you can talk to him, but you must press this button here in order for him to hear you..."
What a strange looking being Zolo was. His scaly looking skin layer was very reptilian looking in nature, complete with some sort of gills on the sides of his face. "Hello, Zolo. I'm glad to meet you!"
Zolo's eye color changed to a bright red and his tight lipped aperture seemed to form a friendly smile. "Snoitaludargnoc ev'uoy derugif siht tuo!"
"What did he say?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry... Zolo is very proud of his Titatian-American roots, however he refuses to speak English ever since they tried to make it the national language. He merely said he'd make you a pair of gloves before you go. It's his hobby, and he's very fast!"
We were then led two windows down to a compartment that appeared more like a jail cell. A bizarre looking lone figure the size of an older child, lay in the corner with typing paper strewn all about him on the floor. "This is one of our most troublesome residents. He comes from a planet near the center of the Milky way called Zucchini. He was the 'Pharphignuut', or President of a small Southern region. He was impeached while in office on account of being involved in a fraudulent loan scam. But he fled his planet and went to Washington DC, a place he had often read about in various sci-fi periodicals as a boy, where he met then-President Plimpton who promised him asylum if he would offer his home on Zucchinni to Mr. Plimpton when HE got out of office. The deal was later squashed of course..."
What's all the typing paper on the floor about?" I puzzledly inquired.
"Oh, he's writing his memoirs. He plans to publish them as a book he's appropriately entitled, 'Pharphignuuted!'
"Oh."
"Now over here is our most privileged occupant," the 'tour guide' motioned. "This is Derf Enotsnilf... from the planet Apathonia..."
"Of course," Gerg recognized, "I served in the Apathonian Guard with you Derf! I'm Gerg Ydarb, remember?"
"Gosh, it's been so long... Almost 50 years now. My memory isn't quite what it used to be." Derf admitted.
"In case you all haven't heard about it," the gentleman began to explain, "Derf crashed just outside of Roswell in 1947. His comrades were all killed in the accident. Derf is most valuable to us, he built the..."
"Valuable to YOU?" Gerg protested.
The guide was taken aback slightly then continued. "Yes he's invented many important technological breakthrough weapons and radar systems, not to mention satellites that helped us win the cold war. He's given a very healthy income for his efforts!"
"And just what kind of a life does he have here?!" Gerg angerly challenged.
"Well Derf is one of the few that are free to roam all over the base. He likes to go to Burger King a lot!" He smiled.
Gerg was close to the boiling point. "What kind of a life is that? Derf, I'm here to take you back to Apathonia with me. I'll make sure you have a good income and a job in which your expertise is fully utilized..."
"With all respect, Your Greatest Of Greats," Derf bowed, "I'm an old drude now, nearly 90 years of age. There's nothing for me anymore on Apathonia. These people have been quite good to me and I want to stay, Sir."
Gerg paused very seriously then proposed, "Derf, we will give you everything you want. What is the real reason you don't want to go back? I sense you're holding something from me..."
"Well, Your Greatest Of Greats, you all don't have the 99 cent Double Whopper With Cheese special, back home on Apathonia!"
------------------------------------------------
(Episode 18)
While Gerg stayed behind to try and talk sense into his old comrade Derf, Ira and myself were then lead down a dark corridor, passing steel enforced glass window after window, occasionally sneeking a peek at many peculiar and sometimes misshapen faces of various living things from throughout the cosmos. Our guide lead us down to the very last door, but strangely there was no window as all the other compartments. "Only YOU can come inside this room, Mr. President. This one is top secret and your friend must stay here."
I couldn't imagine what the big deal was, we'd already seen stranger beings in one day than any one person would in their entire life. Nevertheless Ira stayed behind with a strange aura of suspense, and eyes seemed to peek out of the corner while I pulled on the handle of the heavy door, and stepped inside.
DR: Hey Clyde, how did we do this week?!
ME: Doc?!?! How did I suddenly get here in your office?!
DR: I just thought I'd help you end your double trilogy, Clyde.
ME: Uh...hmmm, what double trilogy, Doc? You never seemed to believe me when I told you about all the weird goings on.
DR: Clyde, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you're going away for a while. So I got you a nice going away present.
ME: Going away?!
DR: It's a nice beautiful freshly potted begonia plant, whadya think, Clyde?!
ME: Begonia?! You... You mean, it was you. Why Doc?!
DR: Well Clyde, ever since you quit coming around because your insurance company refused to pay until you reached your deductible, I simply had a lot of time to kill! Literally speaking of course...
ME: You knew all along what was going on. I wasn't crazy!
DR: Oh no, Clyde, that's what so ironic about all this. YOU weren't the one who was crazy!
ME: I...I don't understand...
DR: Mary, would you please ask Mr. Pigglesworth to come in now?
SECRETARY: Sure thing DR Radford.
ME: Elmo is in on this too?!
DR: You see, Elmo used to be one of my patients too. He used to hear a constant voice in his head, but he never would take his meds... Oh, have a seat Mr. Pigglesworth, I was just starting to fill Clyde in. Maybe you could continue for us...
ELMO: Hello Clyde, as Doc was probably telling you, I used to hear this one strange voice in my head. The first thing it would say every morning was, "It's been you all this time, and we both know it, don't I?"
ME: That's amazing Elmo, I used to hear the very same thing, what did you finally do?!
ELMO: Well, for a while I would just ignore him, but that didn't seem to work. So, I decided to use a little psychology on him and invented other
"A little yellow circle with a smily face, and the words 'have a nice day' written inside...." Elmo grinned with pride.
"Yep, that's the one. Now let's put the two together. Elvis is dead, and you put the mark on his forehead."
Elmo's demeanor changed immediately. "I play tiddlywinks, that don't make me no murderer!"
"You wanna tell me how that there mark was put on the General's forehead too, before HE was 'put out?!'"
"You forgot to include Irol, the Queen of the Apathonians..." Elmo smirked.
An unprepared Sergeant Wilco flipped through his scattered papers. "Uh, yeah, what about this Irol, Queen of....."
"Apathonia."
"Yes, that's right, what about her?" Wilco asked.
Elmo sat up and leaned right into the sergeant's face, with a long piercing crazed look of dare, an air of sheer unyielding fearlessness, and a voice of unadulterated boastful pride, as he whispered sadistically, "She didn't play tiddlywinks worth crap!"
"I believe I've had enough of this!!!" Sergeant Wilco yelled.
"Good, can I go home now and finish pickin' my cherries?" He retorted.
Pigglesworth was held for only three hours while they searched his home, but found no probable leading evidence, no not even a solitary begonia plant. He was written off as a lonely and eccentric fruit farmer, in need of a bath, shave, and hot meal... which they gave him for the trouble.
------------------------------------------------
(Episode 17)
Upon the evening prior to when we were to leave for Area 51 & 1/2, I along with Ira stippens, and Vice President Ross Parole, were treating Gerg to a barrage of American Movies. We were all do doing our best to try and comfort Gerg., as he was on nerve's end, wondering if Apathonia had been blown to bits, or had been spared. He thoroughly enjoyed 'The Brady Bunch,' but totally disdained 'E.T.'
"That was the uppermost hidious thing I've ever seen!"
"Don't blame me," Stippens remarked in self defense, "I chose 'The Blob.'"
"Why do you Earthlings always either imagine folks from other worlds as cannibalistic, idiotic, blood sucking, necrophiliacs," Gerg asked, "or adorable and affectionate, ignoramuses?! We're just people like you all!"
Ira, ever the insightful one, cross examined Gerg, "So what are your B-rated movies like on Apathonia, how do they portray, as you say, folks from other worlds?"
"Hmmmm," Gerg paused for a moment, "Good point, so sue me!... Anyone for a game of poker?"
"Come in..." I acknowledged a hasty knock on the door.
"Mr. President," the staffer said in a begging for pardon tone, "an Apathonian craft has landed on the South Lawn. We're holding someone who claims to be the Greatest Of Greats' brother. What do you advise, sir?!"
"Ekim!" Gerg rejoiced. "Maybe Apathonia has been spared!"
Gerg was rapturously relieved that his home planet was still intact, but in the light of all the chaos going on, he wasn't sure when it would or ever would be safe to return. I advised him he could stay in the Lincoln Bedroom for however long it took, but he chose instead, the Watergate Hotel. "It's a hell of a lot cheaper, thanks anyway, Clyde."
The morning afterward, we landed on the obscure runway at Area 51 & 1/2 in the middle of the Nevada desert, at 5am. A variety of military armored vehicles surrounded the plane. They were expecting us, but it was standard conduct, nonetheless. A number of troops, whose identities could not be revealed because of some sort of mask covering their eyes, nose, and mouths, matter-of-factly approached; and a commanding officer gave us all blindfolds then explained we would not be able to enter in without them. I asked them if they knew who they were dealing with. "Just procedure, Mr. President." I was respectfully informed.
Ira, Gerg, and myself were guided over to some sort of trolley car and secured with abnormally tight seat belts. We were told that the blindfolds would be temporal, but the long ride inside took at least a half an hour. "Gentlemen you may take off your blinders and exit your seats," the driver spoke.
At first view, the ceiling made me think we were in some sort of cave supported with hefty crossbeams. The adobe-like walls were lined from end to end with glass windows and chicken wire like protective steel.
"If you gentlemen will come over here," the driver waved, "I will start introducing you all to the occupants. Let's start here with Zolo, he's from the Saturn moon called Titan. Breathes pure methane, so we have ventilated his cell with the fumes of Area 51 & 1/2's sewage system. He is very valuable to us in developing a means for future astronauts to visit the likes of his planet. ....Mr. President you can talk to him, but you must press this button here in order for him to hear you..."
What a strange looking being Zolo was. His scaly looking skin layer was very reptilian looking in nature, complete with some sort of gills on the sides of his face. "Hello, Zolo. I'm glad to meet you!"
Zolo's eye color changed to a bright red and his tight lipped aperture seemed to form a friendly smile. "Snoitaludargnoc ev'uoy derugif siht tuo!"
"What did he say?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry... Zolo is very proud of his Titatian-American roots, however he refuses to speak English ever since they tried to make it the national language. He merely said he'd make you a pair of gloves before you go. It's his hobby, and he's very fast!"
We were then led two windows down to a compartment that appeared more like a jail cell. A bizarre looking lone figure the size of an older child, lay in the corner with typing paper strewn all about him on the floor. "This is one of our most troublesome residents. He comes from a planet near the center of the Milky way called Zucchini. He was the 'Pharphignuut', or President of a small Southern region. He was impeached while in office on account of being involved in a fraudulent loan scam. But he fled his planet and went to Washington DC, a place he had often read about in various sci-fi periodicals as a boy, where he met then-President Plimpton who promised him asylum if he would offer his home on Zucchinni to Mr. Plimpton when HE got out of office. The deal was later squashed of course..."
What's all the typing paper on the floor about?" I puzzledly inquired.
"Oh, he's writing his memoirs. He plans to publish them as a book he's appropriately entitled, 'Pharphignuuted!'
"Oh."
"Now over here is our most privileged occupant," the 'tour guide' motioned. "This is Derf Enotsnilf... from the planet Apathonia..."
"Of course," Gerg recognized, "I served in the Apathonian Guard with you Derf! I'm Gerg Ydarb, remember?"
"Gosh, it's been so long... Almost 50 years now. My memory isn't quite what it used to be." Derf admitted.
"In case you all haven't heard about it," the gentleman began to explain, "Derf crashed just outside of Roswell in 1947. His comrades were all killed in the accident. Derf is most valuable to us, he built the..."
"Valuable to YOU?" Gerg protested.
The guide was taken aback slightly then continued. "Yes he's invented many important technological breakthrough weapons and radar systems, not to mention satellites that helped us win the cold war. He's given a very healthy income for his efforts!"
"And just what kind of a life does he have here?!" Gerg angerly challenged.
"Well Derf is one of the few that are free to roam all over the base. He likes to go to Burger King a lot!" He smiled.
Gerg was close to the boiling point. "What kind of a life is that? Derf, I'm here to take you back to Apathonia with me. I'll make sure you have a good income and a job in which your expertise is fully utilized..."
"With all respect, Your Greatest Of Greats," Derf bowed, "I'm an old drude now, nearly 90 years of age. There's nothing for me anymore on Apathonia. These people have been quite good to me and I want to stay, Sir."
Gerg paused very seriously then proposed, "Derf, we will give you everything you want. What is the real reason you don't want to go back? I sense you're holding something from me..."
"Well, Your Greatest Of Greats, you all don't have the 99 cent Double Whopper With Cheese special, back home on Apathonia!"
------------------------------------------------
(Episode 18)
While Gerg stayed behind to try and talk sense into his old comrade Derf, Ira and myself were then lead down a dark corridor, passing steel enforced glass window after window, occasionally sneeking a peek at many peculiar and sometimes misshapen faces of various living things from throughout the cosmos. Our guide lead us down to the very last door, but strangely there was no window as all the other compartments. "Only YOU can come inside this room, Mr. President. This one is top secret and your friend must stay here."
I couldn't imagine what the big deal was, we'd already seen stranger beings in one day than any one person would in their entire life. Nevertheless Ira stayed behind with a strange aura of suspense, and eyes seemed to peek out of the corner while I pulled on the handle of the heavy door, and stepped inside.
DR: Hey Clyde, how did we do this week?!
ME: Doc?!?! How did I suddenly get here in your office?!
DR: I just thought I'd help you end your double trilogy, Clyde.
ME: Uh...hmmm, what double trilogy, Doc? You never seemed to believe me when I told you about all the weird goings on.
DR: Clyde, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you're going away for a while. So I got you a nice going away present.
ME: Going away?!
DR: It's a nice beautiful freshly potted begonia plant, whadya think, Clyde?!
ME: Begonia?! You... You mean, it was you. Why Doc?!
DR: Well Clyde, ever since you quit coming around because your insurance company refused to pay until you reached your deductible, I simply had a lot of time to kill! Literally speaking of course...
ME: You knew all along what was going on. I wasn't crazy!
DR: Oh no, Clyde, that's what so ironic about all this. YOU weren't the one who was crazy!
ME: I...I don't understand...
DR: Mary, would you please ask Mr. Pigglesworth to come in now?
SECRETARY: Sure thing DR Radford.
ME: Elmo is in on this too?!
DR: You see, Elmo used to be one of my patients too. He used to hear a constant voice in his head, but he never would take his meds... Oh, have a seat Mr. Pigglesworth, I was just starting to fill Clyde in. Maybe you could continue for us...
ELMO: Hello Clyde, as Doc was probably telling you, I used to hear this one strange voice in my head. The first thing it would say every morning was, "It's been you all this time, and we both know it, don't I?"
ME: That's amazing Elmo, I used to hear the very same thing, what did you finally do?!
ELMO: Well, for a while I would just ignore him, but that didn't seem to work. So, I decided to use a little psychology on him and invented other
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