Posts by TerryWalstrom

7

Roommates, Zombies and Napoleon Brandy

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

the setting: i live in a big house as a renter of one bedroom.

there are four other bedrooms and roommates.one of the more recent move-ins is robert.

robert drives a very large blue truck with a 50mm machine gun mount on the hood, stenciled lettering: zombie assault vehicle, and --well...i've come to think of him as robert the zombie killer.then, there's a young fellow with wild, long, bizarre hair, and another guy with dozens of tats... fun and roommate games___ i received the text about an hour after i arrived back at the house.

TerryWalstrom

I'll have to check out A.S.I.P. A.S.A.P.

Thanks!

7

Roommates, Zombies and Napoleon Brandy

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

the setting: i live in a big house as a renter of one bedroom.

there are four other bedrooms and roommates.one of the more recent move-ins is robert.

robert drives a very large blue truck with a 50mm machine gun mount on the hood, stenciled lettering: zombie assault vehicle, and --well...i've come to think of him as robert the zombie killer.then, there's a young fellow with wild, long, bizarre hair, and another guy with dozens of tats... fun and roommate games___ i received the text about an hour after i arrived back at the house.

TerryWalstrom

Weird Al (my Hippy Dippy roommate) asked the question:
"Do you got any wine?"
Well...
"I do got."
So, I pull the bottle out of my sacred hidey hole.
Why?
Weird Al has found a special place my widdle heart.
He's sooo damn sincere.
When I rode up on my bicycle and came around the corner earlier this evening, Weird Al was rockin' out with his electric guitar outside in the courtyard.
He looked embarrassed.
I laughed.
"What-no amplifier?"
"Oh, hey man--like, Dude..I was wailin' and the neighbor next door came over."
"Yes...?"
"And like, he sort of made it pretty clear."
"Yes...?"
"He's not one to appreciate my amplifier. So, I unplugged."
"That's cool."
"Yeah. Dude. Fuckin' A."
___
After I magically produced my finest $3 bottle of Winking Owl Shibaz, Weird Al assured me he could open it.

"But Al, we don't have an opener. When Richard moved out, he took his corkscrew with him."

"Dude! Dude! I can, like, do this thing. I know how to open a cork."

Ten minutes later, he had attacked the stubborn bottle with scissors, a paintbrush handle, a pair of pliers, and his teeth.
The cork remained steadfast and virginal.

"Dude!!" He was clearly vexed. Mightily.

I took mercy on him.
I suggested we might want to invest in a corkscrew which could be purchased at the Dollar Tree for a buck.
He departed like a puppy for a bag of puppy chow.
Then, the other Terry arrived. ("I'm the cute one." You'll recall his words.)

He had shared his grotesque bottle of Chilean wine with me last night.
We swapped ex-wife stories.
This evening as he walked in my eyes brightened.

"There's the second best Terry in the entire house and the owner of a remarkable forensic device known as the corkscrew!"
I gestured toward my bottle of Winking Owl.
Quicker than you could say, "Bob's yer Uncle." The wine was flowing into our glasses.
We toasted our favorite body parts and started killing the bottle.
After about half an hour, Weird Al suddenly returns.

"Ah, like--Dude--I got lost."

The two Terry's gave each other a look.

Weird Al revealed a wonderful corkscrew.
"How much was it?"
"Dude, it was only like four ninety-eight and some change."
"Where'd you buy it?"
"Dude, it was the Dollar store."
The two Terry's gave each other a look.
_____
Where is Weird Al as I type these words?
He's headed to Trader Joe's for more wine.
There wasn't any left, you see.
It was, um, like--ya know...Dude--EMPTY!

____
I am sitting here now watching Weird Al try to work a corkscrew on the wine he just brought back from Trader Joe's.
It is like watching a hominid assemble furniture from IKEA.
____
I've never seen a wine glass topped off with such proficiency as last night.
As I removed myself from the kitchen, Al was teetering in the center of the kitchen, wine glass in hand, deep in contemplation of some of our universe's greatest abstractions.
"It's like...ya know? Dude? It's...it's like that."
I couldn't have agreed more.
This morning, two dead wine bottles lay under the table like strangulation victims on a morgue slab.
There was no sign of Al's body. I assume he is upstairs slumbering.

7

Roommates, Zombies and Napoleon Brandy

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

the setting: i live in a big house as a renter of one bedroom.

there are four other bedrooms and roommates.one of the more recent move-ins is robert.

robert drives a very large blue truck with a 50mm machine gun mount on the hood, stenciled lettering: zombie assault vehicle, and --well...i've come to think of him as robert the zombie killer.then, there's a young fellow with wild, long, bizarre hair, and another guy with dozens of tats... fun and roommate games___ i received the text about an hour after i arrived back at the house.

TerryWalstrom

There is an amazing variety of what I call "human beans" at both Starbucks and who dwell as my roommates.
I think of them as fodder for storytelling.
I don't know who da mudder is.

7

Roommates, Zombies and Napoleon Brandy

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

the setting: i live in a big house as a renter of one bedroom.

there are four other bedrooms and roommates.one of the more recent move-ins is robert.

robert drives a very large blue truck with a 50mm machine gun mount on the hood, stenciled lettering: zombie assault vehicle, and --well...i've come to think of him as robert the zombie killer.then, there's a young fellow with wild, long, bizarre hair, and another guy with dozens of tats... fun and roommate games___ i received the text about an hour after i arrived back at the house.

TerryWalstrom

The setting: I live in a big house as a renter of one bedroom.
There are four other bedrooms and roommates.
One of the more recent move-ins is Robert. Robert drives a very large blue truck with a 50mm machine gun mount on the hood, stenciled lettering: Zombie Assault Vehicle, and --well...I've come to think of him as Robert the Zombie killer.
Then, there's a young fellow with wild, long, bizarre hair, and another guy with dozens of tats...

FUN and ROOMMATE GAMES
___
I received the text about an hour after I arrived back at the house. It was Robert the Zombie killer.

"Would you like to play checkers or chess later on this evening?"

I sat thinking.
'Surely this would make for an interesting story to write later.'
I texted back the one word: "Chess."

Before the evening was over, the following cast of characters would be larking about in the kitchen.

Terry (Crow Wrangler)
Robert (Zombie Apocalypticist)
Shay (Tattoos. So many)
Weird Al (Curly electrified hair straight out)
Lulu and Sadie (Robert's idea of fun guests)

I will switch to fake names to protect the innocent. (Me.)
_____________

Zombie Killer: “I invited some girls.”

Crow Wrangler: “To do what?”

Z.K.: “They’re comin’ over. “

C.W.: “To do what?”

Z.K.: “My wife and I are gettin’ a divorce.”
C.W.: “Which means…?
Z.K..: “When the cat’s away the mice come play.”

C.W.: “So, am I to understand we’re playing with mice and not chess?”
Z.K.: “Nah. We can do both! When’s the last time you had some fun?”
C.W.: “Just before I ended up in prison.”
Z.K.: “What? Yer lyin’--aren’t ya?”
C.W. “I wish.”

Z.K.: “What was you in prison about?”
C.W. “About two years.”
Z.K. “Nah--I mean what’d ya do?”
C.W. “I murdered my previous roommate in cold blood.”
Z.K.: (Snickers. Stops and makes a serious face.) “Na-h-h-h.”
______

(Ding Dong)
Robert: “That was the doorbell?”
Me: “Or a prophecy of things to come.”

Robert sashays to the front door while I pour a stiff shot of Napoleon brandy.
The thought crosses my mind as to what happened to Napoleon.
I hear a woman’s voice. It sounds like Carol Burnett when she played the character “Eunice.”
Footsteps approach.

Lulu: “Say, could you come help us get Sadie out of the backseat my car?”

Me: “Hello to you, too.”

Lulu: “Oh--excuse my manners. Could you---?”

Me: “My name is Terry.”

Lulu: “Oh--I’m Lulu--could you come help us get Sadie out of the backseat my car?”

Robert: “Sadie is passed out. We’ll have to lift her out of the back seat and carry her inside.”

Me: “Hold on, hold on--wait! Is there any reason why we shouldn’t just let her stay in the backseat of the car? What’s wrong with her?”

Lulu: “Aw, she’s got a ‘condition.’.
Me: “What condition is her ‘condition’ in right now?”

Robert: “Sadie is passed out. We’ll have to lift her out of the back seat and carry her inside.”
Me: “Did you ever see the movie WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S?”
Lulu : “Sadie ain’t dead. She’s just got a ‘condition.’”
Me: “But wait--hold on--why can’t she just sleep it off IN THE CAR?”

Lulu: “She’s in the backseat of my car. Sometimes she craps her pants.”
(Long pause while I pour a larger glass of Napoleon brandy and chug it.)

Me: “So, if I follow your chain of logic here...it is better to have her INSIDE THE HOUSE on the kitchen floor crapping her pants?”

Robert: “Yeah, Lulu--what about that? You gonna change her diaper?”

Me: “DIAPER?”

Lulu: “Robert, she don’t want nobody knowin' ’that. Why’d you say that to a perfect stranger?”

Me: “Hang on here just one minute. Just to keep the record straight. I’m NOT perfect.”

Robert: “Okay, let’s go get her and we’ll work this out while we’re playing chess.”
_______
We three marched out to the driveway where a 1955 blue Nash Rambler with dents like the surface of the moon gleamed under starlight.
In the backseat was a lady (I’m being very restrained, gentlemanly, and polite as I write these words) of about 110 years of age sprawled in the back seat.
She was snoring. Her very white skin was like---oh hell, just use your imagination.
I don’t want to think about it anymore!

We hefted her every which way, yanking on ankles, tugging on elbows… It was a push-me-pull-you situation.
At long last, Robert and Lulu managed to drag Sadie the unconscious lady into the house.
I stood still in the driveway wondering how far I could run and how fast I’d get there.
___________

__________

Hail Hail the Gang’s All Here

Sadie had been deposited like the body of a deer in a highway accident on the carpet in the living room.

Imagine in your mind what it would look like if somebody threw their grandmother out of an airplane without a parachute and she had fallen ten thousand feet, then crashed through the roof onto your living room rug.

Got that picture in your mind?
THAT is what it looked like.

We turned off the lights so we didn’t have to look at her and all sat down at the kitchen table.
________

Me: “So, Sadie is who, exactly--your Grandmother?”

Lulu: (Offended): “Don’t be a smart ass! She’s my sister! She don’t look her best right now.”

Me: (Before I can stop myself) “I should hope not.”

Robert: “Shall we all play chess now?”

Lulu: “Bobby, I didn’t come over here to play no damn game of Chest.
I thought we was gonna party.”

Robert: “It ain’t gonna be no party with your sister all zonked out like that.
Now my friend Terry here ain’t got no date!”

Me: (Beginning to come out of my skin) “Wuh-wuh Whoa. Hang fire. Nobody said anything about a DATE! I’m more than happy to leave the two of you to your own resources and I’ll just go to my room and clip my toenails.”
___

From the darkened living room the sound of a crash could be heard, followed by a loud “OOF!” A string of colorful cusswords and astonishment erupted next.

All three of us bolted from the kitchen into the living room and clicked on the light.

From upstairs, one of the new roommates, Shay (Sheffield) was lying draped across the body of Sadie.

Lulu: “What the F**K! Get off my damn sister! Who told you-you could get on top of her?”

Shay: (More puzzled than the human mind could conceive) “I tripped in the dark, dammit.
You shouldn’t oughta leave your sister in the middle of the floor in the dark like that.
It ain’t my fault!”

Robert: “Yeah, Lulu. Lay off. Say, Shay--this is one of my girlfriends, Lulu…”

Lulu: “What do you mean--ONE OF your girlfriends?”

(Shay scrambles to his feet and straightens himself out; all the while staring at the woman on the floor.)

Shay: “Is she dead, or what?”

Me: “No, but I wish I was.”

Robert: “Lulu--all I meant was--I’m not completely divorced yet.”

Lulu: “You saying your WIFE is one of your girlfriends?”
Me: “Who’d like a BIG STIFF DRINK?”
Shay: “I for damn sure would.”
______
Shay and I left Robert and Lulu in the living room arguing while we poured a drink and started a game of chess.

The yelling went on for quite awhile.

I don’t know what time it was when the two of them came back into the kitchen and not before turning out the light in the living room.

Somehow or other, we ended up sitting around the table taking turns playing a really insane game Robert thought up.

It was called QUEENS.

Robert: “Here are the rules: All the pieces on the board are Queens.”

This truly stupid game went on way too long with one pair of us at a time playing one of the others. I tried explaining to them (but they did not believe me) that whoever starts will be the one who wins--no matter what moves are made!

In the middle of the 4th or 5th game, a loud crash was heard in the living room.

Me: “I think Weird Al has just met your sister, Lulu!”
__________

The More the Merrier
________

I call him, ‘Weird Al” because his hair is weird--just like the singer.
Al is a low-key throwback to the Hippie era of the 60’s. However, Al is only about 21 years old.

“Hey! Dudes--did you know there’s a dead granny in here? Like, wild, dude.”

Lulu: “That’s my sister, you asswipe!”

Me: “Speaking of asswipes--did anybody think to bring some--just in case?”

Robert: “Hey, Al, how’s it going?”

Weird Al: “Oh, hey Robert. I thought we were playing some chess this evening?”

Lulu: “She ain’t crapped her pants yet.”

Me: “Praise Jesus!”

____
A new game is introduced by Robert the Zombie Killer.

All the chess pieces are pushed to the center of the board, smushed up close to each other.
Next, the game begins with strict rules of chess in effect!

We play, taking turns, and the screwball game turns out to be fun. I think it might have been fun--or, maybe the Napoleon brandy was having an effect.

Things had settled down a bit--until--we heard a loud voice from the darkened living room.

“WHERE AM I? WHAT THE F**K IS HAPPENING TO ME?”

Robert: “Hey, Terry, your date just arrived!”

Me: “Very funny. And by that, I mean NOT funny at all.”

“SOMEBODY GET ME OFF THIS FLOOR!”

Lulu: (Grinning at me) “Let me introduce you to Sadie. Come with me.”

Me: “No, that’s okay. Where’s that bottle of brandy?”

Robert: (To Lulu) “I’ll help you.”

Weird Al: Staring at me, (horrified) “That’s YOUR date? Why is she on the floor?”

Me: “The landlord smashed the couch to pieces a couple of months ago in a fit of pique.”

Weird Al: “Oh. Okay.”

The next thing I know, 5 of us are seated at the kitchen table.
_________

(In a scene which oddly reminded me of Bride of Frankenstein)

Sadie: “Hi. I’m Sadie, I’m supposed to be your date this evening...according to Robert.”

Me: “I’m afraid there has been a BIG misunderstanding about that, Sadie.
A MONUMENTAL misunderstanding. Robert made some assumptions without discussing any of it with me.”

Sadie: “What’s a matter, too much of an age difference? I’m 51-years-old.
How old are you?”

Me: “I’m 70 and yes! I’m WAY TOO OLD for a young woman such as yourself. There are laws against this sort of thing.”

Lulu: “He’s right. Good god, Robert--what were you thinking?”

Robert: “Hell, I’m sorry. I didn’t think he was THAT OLD.”

Sadie: “You don’t LOOK that old.”

Me: “Oh trust me. I’m way old. I’m not any fun, either. I’m a real party pooper.”

Sadie: “Yeah well--that happens to me, too. I use DEPENDS.
What do you use?”

Me: "Oh, Jeeze!"

Note: (I didn’t think any of this was very funny at the time.)
______

3

The Caterpillargeddon!

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

the caterpillargeddon.

an eyeball rolled under the tool cart and stared fixedly into sightless shadows.

an impossibly large, bug-like creature lay on its back as the final death twitch of primitive nerve endings faded.. .

TerryWalstrom

I was daydreaming one day about how it is that JW's are just a mind control delivery system.
I thought about hacking and what might occur if JW's door to door work were hacked--and what that might look like.

Aliens who hack the Dubs was the follow-up.
It's funny how the subconscious mind works.
MEN IN BLACK? Wow! That surely must be the core of it.
So obvious now that you said it.
Damn! Glad I didn't try to sell this story. I'd get sued :)

41

Watchtower Loses an Appeal

by TerryWalstrom in

publication court of appeal, fourth appellate district division one state of california osbaldo padron, plaintiff and respondent, v. watchtower bible and tract society of new york, inc., defendant and appellant.findingwatchtower has abused the discovery process.

it has zealously advocated its position and lost multiple times.

yet, it cavalierly refuses to acknowledge the consequences of these losses and the validity of the court's orders requiring it to produce documents in response to request number 12. and, in a further act of defiance, watchtower informed the court that it would not comply with the march 25, 2016 order 39 requiring it to produce documents responsive to request number 12. the court, following lopez, supra, 246 cal.app.4th 566, as an incremental step toward terminating sanctions if watchtower persists in its unjustified conduct, imposed monetary sanctions.

TerryWalstrom

Here are the full details of the finding:

file:///home/chronos/u-b0cb2382e0a2f41afc3d75d9f819389e819a5729/Downloads/D070723-11-9-17-Update.PDF

41

Watchtower Loses an Appeal

by TerryWalstrom in

publication court of appeal, fourth appellate district division one state of california osbaldo padron, plaintiff and respondent, v. watchtower bible and tract society of new york, inc., defendant and appellant.findingwatchtower has abused the discovery process.

it has zealously advocated its position and lost multiple times.

yet, it cavalierly refuses to acknowledge the consequences of these losses and the validity of the court's orders requiring it to produce documents in response to request number 12. and, in a further act of defiance, watchtower informed the court that it would not comply with the march 25, 2016 order 39 requiring it to produce documents responsive to request number 12. the court, following lopez, supra, 246 cal.app.4th 566, as an incremental step toward terminating sanctions if watchtower persists in its unjustified conduct, imposed monetary sanctions.

TerryWalstrom

PUBLICATION COURT OF APPEAL,
FOURTH APPELLATE DISTRICT DIVISION ONE STATE OF CALIFORNIA
OSBALDO PADRON, Plaintiff and Respondent, v.
WATCHTOWER BIBLE AND TRACT SOCIETY OF NEW YORK, INC.,
Defendant and Appellant.

Finding

Watchtower has abused the discovery process. It has zealously advocated its position and lost multiple times. Yet, it cavalierly refuses to acknowledge the consequences of these losses and the validity of the court's orders requiring it to produce documents in response to request number 12. And, in a further act of defiance, Watchtower informed the court that it would not comply with the March 25, 2016 order 39 requiring it to produce documents responsive to request number 12. The court, following Lopez, supra, 246 Cal.App.4th 566, as an incremental step toward terminating sanctions if Watchtower persists in its unjustified conduct, imposed monetary sanctions. On the record before us, we are satisfied that the superior court's order was not arbitrary, capricious, or whimsical. To the contrary, the superior court has shown great patience and flexibility in dealing with a recalcitrant litigant who refuses to follow valid orders and merely reiterates losing arguments. We therefore affirm. DISPOSITION The order is affirmed. Padron is awarded his costs of appeal.

3

The Caterpillargeddon!

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

the caterpillargeddon.

an eyeball rolled under the tool cart and stared fixedly into sightless shadows.

an impossibly large, bug-like creature lay on its back as the final death twitch of primitive nerve endings faded.. .

TerryWalstrom

The CATERPILLARGEDDON

An eyeball rolled under the tool cart and stared fixedly into sightless shadows.

An impossibly large, bug-like creature lay on its back as the final death twitch of primitive nerve endings faded.

Next to the shed carapace were human skin shards and bone fragments. An odd series of quick transformations had torn each stage apart leaving disgusting artifacts of mostly bug part, then, human scraps.

Stumbling toward the basement stairs on wobbly legs there staggered a weird human replacement. This uncanny thing coughed up a viscous waxy substance as its voice box simulated a modulated word or two: “Wuh. Wuh. Wa. Wat. Watch. Watchtower!”

_____

In the floor above the creature, on the other side of the cellar door, ordinary human sounds intermixed with typical television commercials, clinking dishes in a kitchen sink and the distant barking of neighborhood dogs.

An outside door slammed and footfalls sounded overhead across the ceiling of the basement garage as the pupae on human legs completed its final transformation. With a snap and crackle of joints in place--this wretched abomination reached out unsteadily for an old pair of overalls hanging on a nearby peg next to outlined tools and calendar with its nude pinup smiling alluringly at the monster who paused and leered back.

Again, muffled voices on the floor overhead:

"Get ready for the meeting, Markie, your Dad should be home any minute now and he has to have the bathroom a good thirty minutes to himself."

"Aw, Mom, can I please stay home? I've got tons of homework. I have to raise my grades or I'll flunk algebra."

"No! You missed the WatchTower Study Sunday with this same excuse. GET READY NOW!"

The door to the basement swung open with a hearty thump.

A wide-eyed, not too human form lurched in the doorway.

"Honey, I'm home", the witless bug croaked using the familiar voice of their devoured father. A faltering smile crawled up the side of its face and foundered in a frozen grin.

"I didn't hear you drive up! How was work?"

The bug-man staggered toward its "wife" and stiffly opened uncertain arms for an embrace. There was a shiver and hiccup, followed by the words: "Watch Tower!....Watchtower."

The woman's expression quickly distorted and she pulled back reflexively. A scowl distorted her features.

"You haven't been drinking, have you? You promised!"

The bug-thing awkwardly embraced her again rather mechanically, then ambled over to the couch, toppling heavily onto the floor instead.

"Watch Tower!....Watchtower?"

"I put your copy next to the bed......Frank---did you hear me? Have you been drinking again?"

Her brow furrowed and color flushed into her cheeks as she removed her apron and headed for the hall closet. She quickly opened the door and stepped in where some sort of search took place as things clattered to the floor.

"No---drinking. Not again. I promised."

The human brain had been absorbed by now and millions of tentative calibrations were accessing neural pathways as instinctive patterns began working their way into semi-clarity.

The man-thing righted itself suddenly from its sprawl on the carpet.

Now confident, it sprang to attention unfurling its human tongue like a cat with a fur ball.

"Evelyn, I have not been drinking! An alternate explanation is now occurring to me. There is a carbon MOE-nox-IDE leak in my car-mobile causing confusion....."

The eyes rolled back inside its head with a flutter and jitter, then back down like cherries in a slot machine.

"Correction! Evelyn. Plausibly, I have NOT been drinking! There is a carbon monoxide leak in my AUTOmobile and it caused me dizzy to be."

The human mouth soured into a twist and then relaxed into a natural human smile.

The woman backed out of the closet and slammed the door abruptly.

Turning on her heel toward her mock-husband she squinted. She was carefully appraising him with narrowed brows--then, started to say something. She stopped herself and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Okay. Supper is almost ready, Frank."

"Our Markie is here?"

Bug-man-head tilted like a dog listening to something beyond human earshot.

"What is with you, Frank?"

The woman placed her hands on her hips and stood pensively.

Anger was tightening her chest and she was barely managing to fight it.

"You say you haven't had a drink. Fine. Are you dizzy from car fumes? Well, you might need a doctor.”

"Doctor physician? Not needed! I'm for bath and bathing and supper eating is next for me."

The hulking figure waddled off toward the bedroom like a two-year-old with its diaper full.

The woman shook her head and exhaled slowly and miserably.

She picked up the telephone and punched in some familiar numbers while keeping a wary eye on the bedroom door which had been closed and opened and closed again comically--as though Frank had never used a door before.

"Brother Dave? It's me, Evelyn Carmichael . . . yes, thank you. Actually, no. Frank and I are having a problem . . . again. Yes, that's right. Can we sit down with you and the brothers after the meeting tonight? Fine. Okay, I'll tell him. Bye."

Frank-thing opened the bedroom door dressed in a non-matching suit coat and fisherman waders. A knotted necktie dangled off to the side crookedly.

"Frank--I called Brother Dave and----what in the world are you doing with that on? Do you think it's funny?"

The mock-husband concentrated on an answer as its eyes flickered about like the old Felix the Cat clock in the attic.

"The answer to your query is....YES! I'm obvious funny! I'm a really funny person. And I make the laughter to come......too."

Bug-thing opened a self-satisfied smile-thing.

Frank-thing’s "wife" closed her eyes and steadied herself once more and walked straight to the bedroom and began packing her suitcase.

"Watch Tower! Watchtower? Watch Tower!"

The bug’s words became disjointed. Brain synapses had not quite matched.

The bedroom door opened and Evelyn's eye stared from behind the narrow slit. Her ongoing confusion reached new heights.

"Hey, Dad--you can have the bathroom now----what the F! Why are dressed like that?" The son, Mark, was standing with a towel around his waist with an astonished expression on his freckled face.

"You are Markie."

Dad-thing nodded with great insight.

"I'm funny guy. You are laughing now to see me, okay?"

The 15-year old's face blanked momentarily until something clicked deep inside his mind and the "explanation" popped into view. It was not a happy answer.

"Aww, Dad---not again. You promised! You're gonna get disfellowshipped this time. You know you will."

Tears started to well up in the boy's eyes as he pouted and sniffed.

"Markie, I'm doing the right thing in the right place. Now is the time."

"What are you talking about, Dad??"

The boy wiped his sleeve across his runny nose as he stared at his "father's" face uncomprehending.

"WatchTower delivery! Door to door. Caterpillar eggs! Soon, your whole world will convert to our way of life!”

The bedroom door opened again and a resolute Evelyn came marching out with two suitcases fully packed.

"Come with me, Markie.....now!"

She gritted her teeth and squinted her eyes with startling ferocity.

"Evelyn wife--the Kingdom Hall is for us tonight. The Message will be clear and I will make ready! One in each family. Door to door....you'll see.."

The boy began whimpering again. His mother dropped the suitcases to embrace him. Placing her hands on either side of her son's face she pulled his gaze toward her and leaned in close so that he would understand every word.

"Your father promised he would not drink and he has lied to us . . .again. We are going over to Gramma Kenny's until the brothers can sit down with your Dad and work this out . . .again."

The boy immediately nodded and refused to look in the direction of the "father" again.

"Do I need to pack my suitcase, Mom?"

Father-thing's expression switched to alert and alarm. Neural connections and brain patterns transmitted signals of mission threatening distress throughout the awkward body.

"Plan B! Come, Evelyn wife and Markie son--I have a great surprise for both of you in the basement garage!"

The woman and her son experienced a chill pervading the room as though a momentary winter lived in Frank’s words.”

"What---Frank? What Surprise?

"My surprise solves all problems! Special Gift! Come see--come now!”

Warily, the mother and her boy watched as Frank-thing strutted over to the garage door and ceremoniously opened it.

His enormously inviting smile beamed across a disarming face as he waved them both toward the stairs.

"Fun. Great Fun. Big changes to come! Amazing transformation. Happiness for all!”

Markie exchanged doubtful looks with his mom and she shrugged as though fate were a thing to be followed however blindly. Something might make sense of this day after all.

"All right, Frank. All right."

Three figures from the room onto the stairs shuffled solemnly as the door closed silent as a coffin lid.

_____

Somewhere in that evening’s twilight dogs barked with unusual ferocity. Street traffic wooshed and honked, as usual, drowning the piercing screams--terror filled outcries from a mother and her child. All this passed unnoticed in the November sunset.

The neighborhood went ominously still.

An hour later the family car disgorged its three occupants in front of the Middledale Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses.

Frank-thing, Evelyn-thing, and Markie-thing waddled up the steps clutching their Bible in one hand and a small container of centipede eggs in the other.

Brother Dave greeted the "family" with his best fake-smile.

Elder Dave leaned in toward the Evelyn creature

.

"I'm sure we can work things out with all of you," he whispered in Evelyn-thing's ear.

Mom-doppelganger cocked her head to the side. "Watch Tower!”

The presiding Elder's eyes glimmered with alien delight.

He nodded knowingly.

"Oh yes! Watch Tower!"

Four foul things huddled in front of the meeting hall exchanging the mission code with great enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, at Brooklyn headquarters, a special meeting of the Jehovah’s Witness Governing Body had convened.

On the long conference table, various canapes of leafy, tasty tidbits were nibbled, sampled, crunched and ingested.

The centipede eggs went entirely unnoticed as they were washed down with ginger ale and a belch or two.

_____

Within a few months, a New World order would be completed.

Nobody on earth would suspect how the journey from the Pleiades to world conquest had been set up, disguised as Divine communication and laid out with precision.

Well...almost.

There had been unavoidable delays.

Now, in 2017, all humans on planet earth could finally experience the well-publicized end of human existence. Operation Caterpillargeddon.

A small elite body of invasion forces: part celestial caterpillar and part absorbed humans transformed in the twinkling of an eye Surely the remnant would, in the fullness of time, transform one last change into butterflies: all would become monarchs!

"Brothers, let us begin! We shall distribute our gift basket of Food at the Proper Time!"

The tiny gift baskets contained a delicious jar filled with honey glazed caterpillar eggs.

For once, there would be no need to donate money... .only one's human body.

The moment of final rapture.

-End-

6

A Nightmare on the death of Pastor Charles Taze Russell

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

pastor russell lay dying.

clad only in a white roman toga he wavered between one world and the next.. outside the train's sleeper car, the pampas, texas flatland unfolded sideways to the naked eye.

nothing of interest.

TerryWalstrom

From my 70 year perspective, the religion today which identifies as Jehovah's Witness is a far cry and maybe an entirely different religion than the one I walked into in the late 1950's.
I would have to say it was more "homespun" and folksy back then.
After it suffered the world-shaking proof of being a false religion in 1975, it was never the same. By then, I was marginally involved, living in a different state and about to live my dream to fulfillment.
I watched as others folded within themselves, making every excuse in the book.
The members actually grew defensive in a way I'd never before seen.
They became sort of nasty and mean-spirited.

It was around 1979 when I was DF'd. It was a sneak attack, too.
In the entire conversation I had in the Kingdom Hall library with the Brothers, I DID NOT KNOW it was a judiciary committee meeting!
I'd call it a summary execution.
I was dazed and confused.
Otherwise, I'd probably have fought back.
But no. I felt like Caesar with Brutus' dagger in my heart.

This crop of JW's were bastards.
It's gotten worse every decade.
What we have today is so CORPORATE and evil and clearly phony.
They churn my guts with the pomposity and fake humility.

6

A Nightmare on the death of Pastor Charles Taze Russell

by TerryWalstrom in

jw
friends

pastor russell lay dying.

clad only in a white roman toga he wavered between one world and the next.. outside the train's sleeper car, the pampas, texas flatland unfolded sideways to the naked eye.

nothing of interest.

TerryWalstrom

American cities were in turmoil by the end of the Civil War. Brother had cut down brother; Baptist had butchered Baptist and the war cries in the name of God had echoed from the hills on both sides of the battlefield.
...
Love of God and neighbor and Puritan ideals were left bleeding at Shiloh, Gettysburg and Bull Run. Every principle held dear, every core belief, every ironclad absolute had taken fire and felt the sting of rifle ball and bayonet as disillusioned men returned to civilian disillusionment.
...
Mothers lost sons and wives lost their husbands. Churches mourned the passing of the brethren.
Each farm and homestead had weakened from the drain of muscle and manpower. The loss was everywhere! A time of change and healing was at hand or surely despair would take the country down to hell.
...
A delusion of Utopia or City on the Hill of Saint Augustine; every Pilgrim fantasy had blown away. A wind of change enflamed the land and hearts were afire for something solid to prevail.
...
Men and women turned frantically once more to their ideal of God. The bromides wouldn't swallow and the pill of faith stuck fast. Grace and love of yesteryear rang hollow in the ear. Hearts hungered for something more...something better...something true or truer still. Souls uncertain gulp down what they need: absolutes. A circled calendar date might serve them well if God's glory lay thereupon.
...
Four years after the Civil War in the "Show me" state of Missouri, a Baptist farm family harvested a son.
Joseph Franklin Rutherford burned with zeal for the profession his father sought with unfulfilled longing: the Law.
Rutherford hung his hat in the chambers of the Fourteenth Judicial District of Boonesville. A substitute, a stand-in, a fill-in job was all that he could land when the regular presiding Judge was not around. No doubt proud, his family nicknamed him "Judge" and forever more it stuck as he wore it as a badge of honor to the end.
...
At a tender age of 25, Joe the Judge pored over thick tomes of the laws of men while he hungered for the law of God.
...
He craved certainty and the solid facts no ordinary church or congregation could provide. His was a legal mind which bent toward a neat row of figures and a bottom line. Local congregations whispered of pie in the sky bye and bye. Rutherford craved the boom of thunder, solid certainty, authority! More and more he felt less and less confident of any authority behind stained glass windows and towering steeples nearby. The Judge ruled God inadmissible.
...
Rutherford turned to atheism. His Baptist brethren condemned his Presbyterian bride to be! It sickened him how men of faith could condemn without a fair trial. The elders in his church would not accept a woman of another faith!
To hell with them; to hell with them all!
Yet, the empty hollow of atheism did not satisfy his cravings for certainty. He longed for a higher purpose and a noble cause to espouse.
STUDIES IN THE SCRIPTURES by Pastor C.T.Russell penetrated his legalist mind and
laid out like a law book cause to effect clear as a dawning day! Old Testament precedents and an Almighty Judge proved irresistible.
Twelve years later he was rebaptized. To his old faith an apostate he had become!
Rutherford the traveling speaker with dramatic flair took each congregation by storm as though they were a jury to persuade. His talented, authoritarian presentation thundered logical persuasions for the faint of heart.
Russell's chronology, charts, and exposition of all things sacred, hidden and profound appealed to Rutherford's natural ostentation and showman's heart.
"That which cannot satisfy the mind has no right to satisfy the heart."
...
The works of Pastor Russell worked a charm.
Unlike Russell, Rutherford was still the coarse farmhand and his tactics crossed the line to bullying if opposed in an argument.

For Russell, he proved useful as an editorial committee member on a rotating basis. But, only in terms of Russell's own writings. No "original" material could be considered. For one thing, Russell was viewed as the "mouthpiece" of Jehovah God. He became the "faithful and wise servant" who served spiritual food at the proper time. Who but this singularity, this slave, dared open up the wisdom and the secrets of a Mighty Lord? The Judge, spellbound, studied Russell's dominion with ambitious eyes.

Russell died of either natural causes or--as some contend--poison, on a train in Pampas, Texas in 1916. Rutherford wasted no time. A lawyer knows that any will written can be broken!

He maneuvered to wrest control. Twelve years of controversy commenced. Twelve years of wrangling, argument, and bullying. Central Organization insidiously transformed Russell's formerly independent Bible Students into the instrument of the Judge's personal vision.
...
Russell adamantly spoke out against any local controls by a central authority. Pastor Russell had left the Presbyterian church for this reason. He had migrated to the Congregationalist church solely because each church preserved Autonomy. Now, Judge Rutherford was breaking faith with his former mentor and Pastor by using traveling representatives to gain church membership lists and institute controls.

Rutherford misrepresented THE FINISHED MYSTERY as a posthumous work of Russell. It wasn't. It was an incomplete first draft of a commentary on Revelation which Rutherford's selected writers finished at his direction.

The tone and thrust were apparently not Russell and the Bible Students felt the harsh, bullying mind come through a coarser voice.
Russell's theology evaporated and Rutherford's appeared.
...
Rutherford's juggernaut began to move. He and his writing committee used the publishing power of the Watchtower to work secretly acquired membership lists.
What worked best for Pastor Russell was the urgency of End Times and the implacable Armageddon shadow on faint hearts yearning for amnesty from their Lord.

1914 had been advertised as, "not the beginning of the end"-- the end of the beginning. It had passed and the World War ended and peace filled the land with security.
Rutherford seized on "Peace and Security" and the rise of the League of Nations as the new trigger for world's end! The publicity machine shifted into high gear pointing to the final year: 1925!
...
The die was cast. A new religion was born.