Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Aboard My Train Of Thought by Scott C. Endsley (10 ebook reader .txt) 📖
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"Cause he's carrying on like a buffoon... and you're bigger than both of us put together..."
(Click)Hmmm, what else is on TV?(Click)(Click)
".........And now, for the best in innovative Chinese Cuisine, here's the host of Chiang Kai Chef; Wae Tu Long Dum Naim!!!... Over to you, Master Naim."
"Thank you, Seoul-Vehs..mmm..Seoul....ohhhhhh...how you say?..."
"Sylvester, Sir." The announcer muttered lowly.
"Oh yes yes, thank you Seoul-Vehs-Tah-Sir. Today we talk about tasty dish my son Xing make...I call him Xing after sign I saw at busy intersection. So funny yes? ha ha ha!.... No seriously, I talk today, Lady and Gentlemen, about popular ancient Ming Dynasty dish, and show you how to Wok Your Dog. First get fresh snow-peas...."(Click)
"I can't stand it. I've got to write some more in this book, but I'm afraid of what else might happen. My life is so meaningless, without expression, and these pills just keep my brain anesthetized. That's it! No more! I'm gonna flush em down the toilet. That's what I'm gonna do. Matilda, I'm not gonna take these pills anymore... have you got anything to say about it?"
She just stared back at me. She knew what I was saying, she was just acting dumb that's all. I've got it all figured out: Man destroys and rearranges this world in his waking hours, but while he sleeps, the animals communicate with one another devising ways to keep the planet from being blown apart. They're just faking their witlessness, why I bet they're thoroughly amused by us simpletons. They don't fool me!
"Let's see what's on C-Spam again."(click)(click)(click)(click-click)
"NO, I am not out of order, Sir!!!" Congressman Learhart insisted while hurling the podium into a section of, all at once, vacated seats. "If you'd check your Constitution, you'd find the 10th Amendment concurs with my assertions! And I'm surefire ready as Helena Montana to behave as a no good Son of a rich man's mother sucking lemons where the ship got damaged, to take........"
"Mr. Learhart, watch your language!!!" the Speaker interrupted, red faced, as he stood up and hammered his gavel.
"Well, like I was saying before Speaker Rutlidge rudely, and shall I say, verbally passed gas in the middle of my dissertation," Learhart continued, "I'm ready to take this directly to the Ethics Committee and rub it into the Speaker's hideously parsimonious, bureaucratic career! He doesn't want to implement this proposal...do you Mr. Speaker? You've been determined ever since I proposed it, to kill it! So, unless this bill has passed through the House by 5 O'clock this afternoon; NO ONE GETS OUT OF HERE ALIVE!!!!!!"
".... We will return later to the House floor debate on whether the butter knife goes on the right or left side of the plate when entertaining foreign dignitaries; but now we bring you an update on happenings in the West Wing of the White House this afternoon. It appears a lone gunman snuck into the presidential palace about noon while the president was taking a bath --- Oh we now have word -- Uh, go ahead Ralph Chambers at the scene.....
"Charley, we've just received word... that... the President is dead!... The gunman apparently threw Mr. Plimpton's AM/FM/CD/TAPE player into his bath water, as he was bathing. Luckily the President probably didn't realize much as he was instantly electrocuted, and not to mention, because he had soap in his eyes at the moment...."
"Ralph? Do they yet know what the gunman's motive was?... Was this a conspiracy? Do they know anything?" Charley asked.
"Well Charley, they're keeping all possibilities in mind. An unnamed source reported to us that a certain cashier and sales clerk in the White House gift shop, last January made verbal threats to the President for failing to give her a Christmas bonus, because of budget cuts; and on the same payday, received a five dollar citation for parking in a handicapped parking zone behind the South lawn. She's certainly being held in custody for questioning.
" But, I'm sure the more they look into the matter, more questions will arise. Of all Presidential scandals, none have ever fully been solved. 'Watergate' and 'Whitewater' are good examples; and now, of course, they have a new one which, if there IS a conspiracy, it will, in all likelihood be dubbed; Bathwater. They DO know this though; the gunman is an elderly, Caucasian white haired man, with a clumsily trimmed Van Dyke, calling himself Homer. He's about five feet tall and...."
"Good Godfrey! Homer?... How?" I murmured aloud. "That's right, Strange fictitiously killed him in the last story! How am I going to get out of this one? I've got to do something before this gets way out of hand. How can I get to him? I can't just tell the whole world about all of this, they'd think I was crazy... If someone could only read my thoughts, they'd know I wasn't just making everything up....Boy, I could sure use the help of someone who had the ability to look into the future and tell me what to do," I sighed to myself, just as the phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hello, this is the Psychic Family Hot-line. Please hold, and an available Psychic Family member will be with you shortly." After the recording, they began punishing me with about 10 minutes worth of Dione Warwick music.
"Hello, is this Mr. Clyde P. Hipwing?"
"Ah, yeah, whadja want?" I answered.
"Sir, I first need to know what sign you were born under... for our records."
"Well, I dunno," I him-hawd, "Seems to me it was something like Maternity Ward."
"Sir, you need us, we don't need you! Now, if you want our help...."
"Yes, yes I need your help, or anybody's help actually. I'm sorry, I believe my sign is something like....Jim and I!"
"Yes, OK, Gemini...All I can tell you is... you are to meet your personal psychic in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, next Wednesday morning at the 'Tee Time In The Tetons Country Club Golf Course,' about 7 A.M.."
"How will I find him or her" I verbally wondered.
"She'll find you... bye." (click)
I thought, wow that was impressive! Oh, but wait a moment, I'm flat broke till payday! "What am I going to do?" I asked myself aloud as the phone again rang. "Hello?"
"Yes, we'll be happy to take a postdated check!" (Click)
"This is unbelievable! How in the world?...Oh no, my car!..(Ring!)..Uh..yes, hello..is that you again?"
"Yes, it's me...I've just telepathically changed your oil and rebuilt your carburetor. Now, is there anything else before I hang up? If you happen to think about it later, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to call collect!! Oh, by the way, I handed your file to your case worker and she informed me that you're a Taurus; your dad was the Gemini."(Click)
------------------------------
(Episode 3)
I left early the next morning about 6 A.M. The weather was good up until I hit a couple of passes in Colorado. Most highways and roads were closed where snow drifts avalanched at least six feet deep, so I took a southern route through Utah, then up north to Idaho and back east into Wyoming. The drive took all of two days.
When I reached Jackson Hole, there was a blizzard falling as I drove all around looking for the 'Tee Time In The Tetons Country Club and Golfcourse.' Too tired to look anymore, I checked into a 'Buzzard Inn,' hoping to get an early morning snooze.
I buckled my seatbelt and put the bed in automatic pilot; but as I was getting close to drifting away, I was awakened by the unmistakable sound of someone cooking, and smelled the lure of frying bacon seeping in from the kitchenette. I blindly reached for the light above the bed. A 60 or 70ish aged woman was hovering over the stove. I got a better look. "Julia Child!?.... The famous cook?!"
"'Tee Time In The Tetons' was snowed in, so I put my new gift into action and predicted you'd show up here," Julia chuckled.
"You're my psychic?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Well, only two weeks on the job... I'm still learning. I know you're wondering why I took up the psychic bit... microwave cooking finally ran me out of business! I'm afraid according to your household income, I'm all you can afford."
"Well I dunno, I....."
"Don't worry, I know the whole story. First thing we've got to do is tape all the windows and doors shut, and get it plenty dark in here. Then add a pinch of incense, let it burn slowly, but you don't want it to burn too much," Julia explained, grabbing my hands and calling out into the spiritual wilderness. She closed her eyes then began shaking all over, wobbling like Jello, lurching onto the table. "Yes, don't be afraid to come, we welcome you," she pleaded; "Come....Come...Come......Come... COME!.... COME!!.... COME ON, DOGGONE IT ALL, WE'RE ON A SHOESTRING BUDGET, HERE!!!"
There was a sudden clap of thunder as the room became fully illuminated in a deep mysterious olive green. Then a voice that sounded distant, outlying and removed, began; Julia. Julia!.... JULIA!!!..."
"What?" she answered quite irritated.
"How ya doin' babe?" the familiar voice enquired.
"Is... is that you, Richard?.... Richard Nixon, is that you?" Julia stood up with eyes shut.
"Oh Julia... You come to me for advice from afar, but I, Richard M. Nixon, seek your counsel as well."
"Oh Richard, though distant from this world, yet, here with us in spirit... What might your request be?" Julia answered with another question.
"Oh, Julia...." Richard begged, "teach me to cook! When making a chicken and rice dish, do you boil the rice first, or do you broil them together? Let me make this perfectly clear... I am not a cook!...The food sucks here in the afterlife! Oh, about that incense, could you please for my sake snuff out that harrowing stench?! It reminds me of when little Julie was into that 'Make Love Not War,' thing!"
"Later Richard, but first, what might your council be concerning Mr. Hipwing's dilemma?" Julia giggled.
"My answer to him is in the form of a clue, listen carefully: 'Flush away your enigma with the pursuit of excellence.'"
"That's it!?" I protested, "I've come all this way for just a clue as stupid as that?... Why?"
Mr. Nixon replied, "Because it's more fun that way and less boring to your readers. And besides, you only get what you pay for...that's why... HA HA!... Now Julia, you promised me... teach me how to cook!"
"Oh Richard! All right... first you take a little bit of butter...."
-------------------------------------
(Episode 4)
I left for Oklahoma shortly after noon and determined to turn the Psychic Family Hot-line over to the Better Business Bureau. Steaming enough to melt my frosted windows, I turned on the radio to catch some news...(Click)
"...Republican Congressman Berry, and
"Cause he's carrying on like a buffoon... and you're bigger than both of us put together..."
(Click)Hmmm, what else is on TV?(Click)(Click)
".........And now, for the best in innovative Chinese Cuisine, here's the host of Chiang Kai Chef; Wae Tu Long Dum Naim!!!... Over to you, Master Naim."
"Thank you, Seoul-Vehs..mmm..Seoul....ohhhhhh...how you say?..."
"Sylvester, Sir." The announcer muttered lowly.
"Oh yes yes, thank you Seoul-Vehs-Tah-Sir. Today we talk about tasty dish my son Xing make...I call him Xing after sign I saw at busy intersection. So funny yes? ha ha ha!.... No seriously, I talk today, Lady and Gentlemen, about popular ancient Ming Dynasty dish, and show you how to Wok Your Dog. First get fresh snow-peas...."(Click)
"I can't stand it. I've got to write some more in this book, but I'm afraid of what else might happen. My life is so meaningless, without expression, and these pills just keep my brain anesthetized. That's it! No more! I'm gonna flush em down the toilet. That's what I'm gonna do. Matilda, I'm not gonna take these pills anymore... have you got anything to say about it?"
She just stared back at me. She knew what I was saying, she was just acting dumb that's all. I've got it all figured out: Man destroys and rearranges this world in his waking hours, but while he sleeps, the animals communicate with one another devising ways to keep the planet from being blown apart. They're just faking their witlessness, why I bet they're thoroughly amused by us simpletons. They don't fool me!
"Let's see what's on C-Spam again."(click)(click)(click)(click-click)
"NO, I am not out of order, Sir!!!" Congressman Learhart insisted while hurling the podium into a section of, all at once, vacated seats. "If you'd check your Constitution, you'd find the 10th Amendment concurs with my assertions! And I'm surefire ready as Helena Montana to behave as a no good Son of a rich man's mother sucking lemons where the ship got damaged, to take........"
"Mr. Learhart, watch your language!!!" the Speaker interrupted, red faced, as he stood up and hammered his gavel.
"Well, like I was saying before Speaker Rutlidge rudely, and shall I say, verbally passed gas in the middle of my dissertation," Learhart continued, "I'm ready to take this directly to the Ethics Committee and rub it into the Speaker's hideously parsimonious, bureaucratic career! He doesn't want to implement this proposal...do you Mr. Speaker? You've been determined ever since I proposed it, to kill it! So, unless this bill has passed through the House by 5 O'clock this afternoon; NO ONE GETS OUT OF HERE ALIVE!!!!!!"
".... We will return later to the House floor debate on whether the butter knife goes on the right or left side of the plate when entertaining foreign dignitaries; but now we bring you an update on happenings in the West Wing of the White House this afternoon. It appears a lone gunman snuck into the presidential palace about noon while the president was taking a bath --- Oh we now have word -- Uh, go ahead Ralph Chambers at the scene.....
"Charley, we've just received word... that... the President is dead!... The gunman apparently threw Mr. Plimpton's AM/FM/CD/TAPE player into his bath water, as he was bathing. Luckily the President probably didn't realize much as he was instantly electrocuted, and not to mention, because he had soap in his eyes at the moment...."
"Ralph? Do they yet know what the gunman's motive was?... Was this a conspiracy? Do they know anything?" Charley asked.
"Well Charley, they're keeping all possibilities in mind. An unnamed source reported to us that a certain cashier and sales clerk in the White House gift shop, last January made verbal threats to the President for failing to give her a Christmas bonus, because of budget cuts; and on the same payday, received a five dollar citation for parking in a handicapped parking zone behind the South lawn. She's certainly being held in custody for questioning.
" But, I'm sure the more they look into the matter, more questions will arise. Of all Presidential scandals, none have ever fully been solved. 'Watergate' and 'Whitewater' are good examples; and now, of course, they have a new one which, if there IS a conspiracy, it will, in all likelihood be dubbed; Bathwater. They DO know this though; the gunman is an elderly, Caucasian white haired man, with a clumsily trimmed Van Dyke, calling himself Homer. He's about five feet tall and...."
"Good Godfrey! Homer?... How?" I murmured aloud. "That's right, Strange fictitiously killed him in the last story! How am I going to get out of this one? I've got to do something before this gets way out of hand. How can I get to him? I can't just tell the whole world about all of this, they'd think I was crazy... If someone could only read my thoughts, they'd know I wasn't just making everything up....Boy, I could sure use the help of someone who had the ability to look into the future and tell me what to do," I sighed to myself, just as the phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hello, this is the Psychic Family Hot-line. Please hold, and an available Psychic Family member will be with you shortly." After the recording, they began punishing me with about 10 minutes worth of Dione Warwick music.
"Hello, is this Mr. Clyde P. Hipwing?"
"Ah, yeah, whadja want?" I answered.
"Sir, I first need to know what sign you were born under... for our records."
"Well, I dunno," I him-hawd, "Seems to me it was something like Maternity Ward."
"Sir, you need us, we don't need you! Now, if you want our help...."
"Yes, yes I need your help, or anybody's help actually. I'm sorry, I believe my sign is something like....Jim and I!"
"Yes, OK, Gemini...All I can tell you is... you are to meet your personal psychic in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, next Wednesday morning at the 'Tee Time In The Tetons Country Club Golf Course,' about 7 A.M.."
"How will I find him or her" I verbally wondered.
"She'll find you... bye." (click)
I thought, wow that was impressive! Oh, but wait a moment, I'm flat broke till payday! "What am I going to do?" I asked myself aloud as the phone again rang. "Hello?"
"Yes, we'll be happy to take a postdated check!" (Click)
"This is unbelievable! How in the world?...Oh no, my car!..(Ring!)..Uh..yes, hello..is that you again?"
"Yes, it's me...I've just telepathically changed your oil and rebuilt your carburetor. Now, is there anything else before I hang up? If you happen to think about it later, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to call collect!! Oh, by the way, I handed your file to your case worker and she informed me that you're a Taurus; your dad was the Gemini."(Click)
------------------------------
(Episode 3)
I left early the next morning about 6 A.M. The weather was good up until I hit a couple of passes in Colorado. Most highways and roads were closed where snow drifts avalanched at least six feet deep, so I took a southern route through Utah, then up north to Idaho and back east into Wyoming. The drive took all of two days.
When I reached Jackson Hole, there was a blizzard falling as I drove all around looking for the 'Tee Time In The Tetons Country Club and Golfcourse.' Too tired to look anymore, I checked into a 'Buzzard Inn,' hoping to get an early morning snooze.
I buckled my seatbelt and put the bed in automatic pilot; but as I was getting close to drifting away, I was awakened by the unmistakable sound of someone cooking, and smelled the lure of frying bacon seeping in from the kitchenette. I blindly reached for the light above the bed. A 60 or 70ish aged woman was hovering over the stove. I got a better look. "Julia Child!?.... The famous cook?!"
"'Tee Time In The Tetons' was snowed in, so I put my new gift into action and predicted you'd show up here," Julia chuckled.
"You're my psychic?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Well, only two weeks on the job... I'm still learning. I know you're wondering why I took up the psychic bit... microwave cooking finally ran me out of business! I'm afraid according to your household income, I'm all you can afford."
"Well I dunno, I....."
"Don't worry, I know the whole story. First thing we've got to do is tape all the windows and doors shut, and get it plenty dark in here. Then add a pinch of incense, let it burn slowly, but you don't want it to burn too much," Julia explained, grabbing my hands and calling out into the spiritual wilderness. She closed her eyes then began shaking all over, wobbling like Jello, lurching onto the table. "Yes, don't be afraid to come, we welcome you," she pleaded; "Come....Come...Come......Come... COME!.... COME!!.... COME ON, DOGGONE IT ALL, WE'RE ON A SHOESTRING BUDGET, HERE!!!"
There was a sudden clap of thunder as the room became fully illuminated in a deep mysterious olive green. Then a voice that sounded distant, outlying and removed, began; Julia. Julia!.... JULIA!!!..."
"What?" she answered quite irritated.
"How ya doin' babe?" the familiar voice enquired.
"Is... is that you, Richard?.... Richard Nixon, is that you?" Julia stood up with eyes shut.
"Oh Julia... You come to me for advice from afar, but I, Richard M. Nixon, seek your counsel as well."
"Oh Richard, though distant from this world, yet, here with us in spirit... What might your request be?" Julia answered with another question.
"Oh, Julia...." Richard begged, "teach me to cook! When making a chicken and rice dish, do you boil the rice first, or do you broil them together? Let me make this perfectly clear... I am not a cook!...The food sucks here in the afterlife! Oh, about that incense, could you please for my sake snuff out that harrowing stench?! It reminds me of when little Julie was into that 'Make Love Not War,' thing!"
"Later Richard, but first, what might your council be concerning Mr. Hipwing's dilemma?" Julia giggled.
"My answer to him is in the form of a clue, listen carefully: 'Flush away your enigma with the pursuit of excellence.'"
"That's it!?" I protested, "I've come all this way for just a clue as stupid as that?... Why?"
Mr. Nixon replied, "Because it's more fun that way and less boring to your readers. And besides, you only get what you pay for...that's why... HA HA!... Now Julia, you promised me... teach me how to cook!"
"Oh Richard! All right... first you take a little bit of butter...."
-------------------------------------
(Episode 4)
I left for Oklahoma shortly after noon and determined to turn the Psychic Family Hot-line over to the Better Business Bureau. Steaming enough to melt my frosted windows, I turned on the radio to catch some news...(Click)
"...Republican Congressman Berry, and
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