Aboard My Train Of Thought by Scott C. Endsley (10 ebook reader .txt) 📖

their fists on the metallic walls while crying out for help, and a wall slid open from left to right, exposing some sort of movie screen. A loud friendly sounding voice, on that occasion, announced over a public address system, "Friends from Earth! The Greatest Of Greats, Her Majesty, Queen Irol, sends her love and wants you to know you won't be harmed! You are all invited to help your world as well as ours, by involving yourselves in an interplanetary goodwill act of diplomacy between our two planets! Our featured movie this afternoon is an Apathonian classic western called, "Shootout Beneath The Flaming Moon," starring, Gerg Ydarb! Relax, there is plenty of popcorn and refreshments for everyone!..."

In the time frame exactly parallel, on the third stone in our own solar system, and within the outer fringe of its own galaxy, Earth's citizens had just breathed a moment of relief at the same time a new crisis had just begun. The unexplainable disappearances had seemed to cease for now. The new dilemma began to snowball ever since insects known as junebugs, commenced to procreating and growing in size at an alarming rate. Crops were being destroyed. Telephone lines were being devoured, and nationwide interstate 40 was cluttered as trapped motorists witnessed junebugs along the highway, marching in over-exaggerated goose-step, all the while singing battle hymns with much enthusiasm.

One unlucky traveler swore that she was carjacked by two enormous bugs, who tossed her out of the car along the highway shoulder. She recalled one of them commenting, "Hey, let's hide it in the bushes for now, and when mom and dad are asleep tonight, we can sneak back out and go cruisin'!"

A convenience store clerk in Casper, Wyoming reported to the police that one stood at least 6 feet 8 inches in height. It had barged into his store and knocked over several isles, then drank his entire stock of Coors Light. The monster bug was later arrested, but soon escaped because he ate his way out of the bricked cell. Authorities were now searching for a large, moaning junebug, with a block of ice wrapped around the top of his throbbing head.

Of course none of this had anything to do with the rather harmless British music group, The Bugs... However hearsay claimed this was all an extravagant marketing scheme concocted amid rumors that the band was shortly to reunite. A farmer put up a sign in his pasture along the highway that read: PAUL IS DEAD MEAT!

Adding irony to the situation, a tourist claimed that a huge number of these rabid insects completely covered his car one afternoon. He tried to spin his wheels in a getaway attempt, but they had already been consumed. He tried next to blare his horn, but they had disconnected it. Just as they were about to eat their way through the windshield, he knew not why, but he turned his radio on full blast, as The Bugs' 1964 hit, "You're Stepping On My Hand," was being played. Panic-stricken, they covered their feelers with their two front legs and desperately fled.

This having been discovered, I suggested to the press that someone fork out enough money to give the four lads from Liverworst an incentive to regroup and tour the US. John was easy with it; as long as YoYo could tag along. Paul said if that was the case; he'd bring his best friend, Buster. George indicated that was out of the question; because he was allergic to dog hair. Pete volunteered to do a solo tour; but everyone agreed the situation wasn't serious enough to warrant going to that extreme. So we went with an alternative...

The Salvation Army Band had been working on some Bugs selections anyway, so they vigorously made plans to march from the east coast to the west coast, along interstate 40, and play the most unbearable Bug tunes that they knew.

The parading band neared San Luis Obispo, California, after three weeks of solid marching and playing. They had managed to drive the hydrophobic insects off the highway fleeing in the direction of the beach (along with brave vacationers who frantically abandoned their automobiles when the band approached with their gawd-awful sound). Once reaching the coastal sands, the savage bugs leaped in the water and drowned.

But it was too early to celebrate as spectators and news reporters alike cheered, for the ocean strangely receded, then formed an enormous wave, and a monster of a junebug standing at least 6 stories high, with ten heads, and the words "sex sex sex" written on 3 by 5 cue cards stapled to every one of its foreheads, spoke; "NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!..."

The entranced crowd didn't know what to make of it, until someone in the crowd suggested that this was the biblically foretold, apocalyptic beast, and he was merely a lousy speller.
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(Episode 6)
Queen Irol had just risen out of bed as the Genodrahn Sun had illuminated her bedroom walls. "Oh, Kram sweetie, have the humans from that pesky little planet Earth arrived yet?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, all 144,000 are here and accounted for."

"Wonderful! Bring me the one that looks the smartest, OK sugar plum?" Irol gleamed.

Today was the 15th anniversary of her rise to the throne. As the legend goes: She was the 20th generation descendant of King Doolittle... who one day bought a beautiful bouquet for his wife, on his favorite concubines' birthday (which he totally had forgotten about). His prude friend became so enraged, that she sent some flowers of her own to the Queen, also supposedly from him, with a planted Micro-letter-bomb inside the card envelope. Having rid herself of the competition, his mistress, Bertha Tudor, won the thrown for herself and became the new Queen. This was referred to in all the historical annals as, "The War Of The Roses."

Irol was really looking forward to all the festivities planned for the day as she noticed a new wrinkle on her grayish-white bald head in the mirror. She was a mere 56 years of age, which was still quite young in accordance to the longevity of the Apathonian average lifespan of roughly 110 years.

"This is the most intelligent looking one of the bunch, Your Majesty," Kram declared, escorting one of the humans.

"Oh yes, and just what is your name, sweetie?" She winked.

"Vice-President Ross Parole, who the hell are you?!"

"My," she grinned, "what big ears you have. I wasn't aware that you all had Feringees on earth!"

She went on to explain to Mr. Parole that they were all being held as "insurance," in case the US government refused to relinquish several hundred Apathonians being held against their will at Area 51 & 1/2. As a double measure, her Greatness assured him that there would be another batch of cybernetic junebugs unleashed upon his planet coming soon, to tip the bargaining power in Apathonia's favor.

She went on to give the V.P. the authority to act as a go-between if her "guests" had a complaint about anything. She promised that if anyone in the camp had a problem, they could voice it to him without any fear of any retribution, then he could voice it to her... and she would take it into consideration and laugh.

She also advised that if anyone out of 144,000 gave her trouble of any kind, the Picasso Factory lay in wait to permanently and metamorphic-like, alter their appearance into some of her favorite Picasso paintings and drawings.

To make certain that there was a no-baloney understanding about her warning, she escorted the Vice-President back to the encampment and picked out a feeble looking woman in her autumn years to be made an example of. Screaming and kicking, the woman was tied down upon the conveyor belt right before they put the wheels in motion.

In a torturous three minutes she went in one end and came out of the other. The newly deformed Picassovite was quickly put on display to everyone's horror as Irol admonished, "Now I'm sure the rest of you don't want to end up like Mrs. McGillicutty here, so I'm counting on you all to be good boys and girls, OK?"

The camp was terribly lacking in space and the detained humans had to sleep in shifts of one hour each, for the lack of beds. No gathering of more that two people was allowed. For ten hours a day they had to move bricks one at a time to the different piles they were all assigned, then move them back, day after day. They had only one meal in the evening consisting of fermented barkbiter roots and gruel.

After dinner every night they had to listen to Irol's propaganda about their princely planet, as opposed to how evil and inferior Earth was in comparison. For instance, she claimed that Ronald Reagan once headed up a covert operation while in office, and sent Colonel Oliver North to Saturn's gassy moon, Titan, to approach the Titanian rebel underground with an offer to
exchange a book of matches for 100 tons of liquid methane gas. The Mob obliged...

Matches were a controlled substance on Titan, and any terrorist in possession of them could easily blow up the planet-like moon, in view of its gassy atmosphere, with a simple strike of only one match.

Ollie elatedly came home with the goods and handed it over to the CIA, who smuggled it inside the borders of the USSR and planted it in the Kremlin basement, in connection to the plumbing installed right below the men's room. A sensor device was mounted to recognize Mikial Gorbechev's 'cheeks' when he sat down, so that when he flushed, it would release a methane cloud and leave everyone (who didn't pass out) wondering where not to order borscht for lunch anymore.

This operation proved to be a success with multiple defections, which single-handedly brought an end to 70 years of the evil Soviet Empire, and a hasty desperate dismantling of their nuclear arsenal.
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(Episode 7)
The fold at The First United Church Of Prosperity were all a-quiver in light of the intense earthly goings on, while Paster Screamer was trying desperately to keep the place of worship in focus. Since the disappearance of head elder Brother Name-It-Claim-It, he charged Ira Stippens with the task... because of his composed demeanor.

He hoped the flock would take note and follow suit. But nothing seemed to dampen the fires of fear especially since the apocalyptic beast rose out of the California coastal waters, and made his presence known to all the world.

Dr. Screamer was in the middle of a children's bible story one certain Sunday as he rhymed, "I saw Esau, sitting on a see-saw..."

Suddenly, Brother Butch Butts had a word of knowledge: "Ira Stippens, thus calleth the Lord, 'thou art to rise from the depths of uncertainty, and go to Los Banos, California, to meeteth the Anti-Beast, Elmo Pigglesworth. He will disciple you as to how you must taketh the mighty sword of truth, and slayeth the beast! You shall go forth as the great Squirminator, and killeth him with my word!' thus sayeth the Lord!"

A reverent awe engulfed the sanctuary with silence, until Ira slumped with embarrassment in his pew and responded in jest. "...Poppycocketh..."

The sanctuary burst into laughter, but the humored church members suddenly fell to their repentful knees, when the walls and floor began to rattle, and a invisible yet powerful voice added, "I'M NOT KIDDINGETH!!!"

Upon returning home from an eventful church service, Ira discovered his front door partially open. He was certain that he had locked it before