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Book One World War Three 1946

Book One World War Three 1946
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Thursday, September 15, 2011

The Whale

'Prepare to come about...helm alee...tighten the jib you idiot!
What the hell are you doing you son of a cow!

'Capitan look!'

What is that, a whale? Look at the size of that thing. It' longer than our boat. No wake. Damn it's coming right at us. 

'Hard a starboard and prepare for a collision!'

Oh shit here it comes...wait it went right under us...didn't even touch the keel. There it is on the port side.

'What is that Mario?'

I cannot tell Capitan. Looks like a whale but it has no tail and it is diving deeper.

Jesus he's right it has no tail and it is going deeper. Looks like its pregnant whatever it is. Losing sight of it must be going 5 knots or so. What a strange creature. Well I guess I've seen stranger. 

'Back to the jib Mario, get your ass moving!'

'Aye Capitan but what was that?'

'Just a whale Mario'

'I think not Capitan. It is too late in the year and they never come here anyway.'

'No time for that now Mario...see to the jib! No whale is going to cause us to lose a sail.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Dashed Hopes

All his little pea brain could do was react. Somehow his hiding place had been discovered and he was caught out in the open. The sun was blinding. The earth would suddenly burst in showers of dirt every few seconds and all he could do was react. All he could do was to run away from one the little eruption to another.

His brain could not comprehend what was causing these un-natural splatters of dirt nor did it matter. His reactions passed down through millions of years of evolution, gave him no choice but to run and hide and run again when the noise and violent movement of the earth got too close to his being. Jumping seemed not to help and neither did baring his teeth but again there was no thought behind his actions just evolution testing out different strategies for the survival of his species.

So far his survival was a miracle of nature and natural selection. He seemed to be able to smell certain smells that his nest mates could not and he sensed just when he needed to be extra cautious about foraging for food. He could not communicate any of this to his companions and they would go out while he stayed behind. One by one they never come back.

He was the last one and even though food was plentiful he has sensed that it was time to seek other territory. But of course he could not bring himself to move during the daylight. His very genetic makeup made that quite impossible. Only the smell and the violent eruption of the earth surrounding his nest could have made him attempt this mad dash to … just somewhere else…somewhere not in the daylight… somewhere dark.

Dodging and weaving he scampered and jumped and tumbled from obstacle to obstacle his brain stem making him dash from place to place…his beady eyes unable to see any kind of permanent hiding place or safe refuge.

All of a sudden he was thrown in the air and his back legs would no longer work. He struggled to move and dragged himself a little further and then felt very tire and fainted… never to wake again.

 “Ha I hit him. Did you see that shot?”

 “I think the American shot him.”

 “No it was me I tell you. See even the American is giving me credit with that little salute. I WOULD RATHER HAVE A CAN OF SPAM YOU CAPITALIST PIG.”

 “He cannot understand you Yuri. Be quiet before a commissar comes to see what all the shouting and shooting was about. He will not understand our little game with the Americans and the rat. He will point out the fact that we are supposed to be shooting at each other and not some filthy rat and then send you to Siberia or worse.”

 “Pah! What could be worse than these cursed mountains and this war?”

 “Death or torture my friend. So just salute the American back and let’s get on with living. Tomorrow we may have to try and kill each other again but for today the rat was our mutual target. It will be different tomorrow and both sides know it. Today the rat dies…tomorrow some of us will die.”