BAFFLEGAB

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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BAFFLEGAB

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        Bafflegab was a young turkey.

        Bafflegab was one of a new breed that was being spoken of in whispers as “The Young Turks”. His dark barred plumage bore an iridescent bronze-green shine. His tail feathers were tipped in a rusty red.

        Bafflegab had three companions: Jabbercocky and Poppycock who were, like him, jakes, young males, and Twaddle who was called a jenny, a young female.

        Bafflegab perched on the fence that surrounded Grimpils Farm and he addressed the assembled rafter of his brethren birds. The Grimpils Farm turkeys were domesticated and timid and captive and predominantly bred to be white (so that any small residue feathers would not offend the Consumer).

        Bafflegab was saying, “Let’s talk turkey. We got our name ‘Turkey’ by mistake. The wild ‘Guinea Fowl’ of Africa was exported from Madagascar through Turkey by Portuguese traders, who gave…

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THE GRIMPILS FARM

The CLOUD CHAMBER

THE GRIMPILS FARM

          A coyote is walking up the road from the city to the country.  On the back of the coyote is a crow.  On the back of the crow is a cockroach.  The three of them are friends from the city.  They are traveling up to the Grimpils farm for Giving Thanks Day.

A few hours pass and the three companions find themselves admiring the countryside.  A turkey meets them in the road.

The turkey says, “I am Snood.”

The coyote says, “I am Moontalker.”

The crow on Moontalker’s back says, “I am Caucus.”

The cockroach on Caucus’s back says, “I am Scurry.”

Snood the turkey says, “I will guide you from here.  Welcome to the Grimpils farm.”

Moontalker the coyote replies with a suave voice, saying, “Happy Giving Thanks Day.”

Caucus the crow replies with a rattling voice, saying, “Yaw, yaw.  Say, Snood, will there be…

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TWYLA BELLEGRAVE

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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 TWYLA BELLEGRAVE

        Once upon a midnight bleary as I sat tap tapping on my computer keys there came a sighing, gently prying from my heart, a sorrow for my unobtainable love, signifying, “Katylyn, I never stop thinking of you.”

        I stopped tapping on my computer keys, stopped my semaphore sadness for the key to her love, untouchable evermore.

        I sighed, again for my eternity’s end, for, “The moon outlasts all love,” as I stared into midnight,  reflecting a pale and immaterial purpose in the window.

        The full moon had arisen in majestic luminance, the stars parting.  I recalled Katylyn’s amused observation from our Paris balcony that the same moon is seen by others beyond our horizon.  I don’t know why I should remember that except that Katylyn had gone beyond my horizon like the memory of sunlight.

        My hope was that the sun also…

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THE DEVOURED HEART

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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THE DEVOURED HEART

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        It was nearly midnight as I hiked up the trail into Coyote Hills.

        It was going to be October 16th, my mother’s birthday had she still been alive.

        During my climb I stepped aside for only one traveler, a whirring night-bicyclist, her bright light beaming as if she were a falling star descending past me.

        A fog had begun to engulf the lower Coyote Hills.

        The fog luminescent in the moonlight, the peaks of the higher hills still visible darkly, the stars sparking above, I arrived at the crest of the trail where the great Weeping Willow tree spread.

        The great Weeping Willow was often a campsite for homeless people but I never saw the same person there twice. Or ever again. This night there was no one; only the debris of previous habitation.

        I stood beneath the great…

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A TASTE FOR LIFE

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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A TASTE FOR LIFE

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        Trotty Wilde rides her bicycle (named) Kardashian up and down the slopes of the Coyote Hills trails at night. In these wee hours, Trotty enjoys being the only bicyclist, illuminating her own path with that 400-lumen LED headlight.

        Trotty swoops out of the trail head and onto the public street that circumvents Coyote Hills. She pedals furiously up the incline in a triumphant finale to her workout, focusing only ahead, savoring the deep muscle burn, the rapidly chilling sweat, and the bicyclist’s endorphin high.

        Suddenly a large dark automobile, without headlights, comes up from behind Trotty and side-swipes her. Trotty is flung away sideways onto the sidewalk, bouncing off of her helmeted head and rolling like a rag doll.

        Trotty can feel as she impacts and tumbles but the sensation is not yet pain, only knowledge of what pain must come.

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THE FOGDOGS

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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THE FOGDOGS

        Emileeannalee was an impish muundog. She flitted in the forest freely at night.

        This Halloween night brought ground fog and with it fear, for the fogdogs may follow. Fogdogs hunted the muundogs mercilessly. Fogdogs appeared in the fog as an enticing glow drawing muundogs, like a flame draws a moth, away from Truuluuv the moon.

        What fogdogs did with captured muundogs, no muundog had returned to tell.

        Halloween night in the forest was a festival of many colored lights as fairies, imps, gnomes, pixies, muundogs, and even trolls sparkled.

        Emileeannalee sat upon a branch doing her best to enjoy the festival. Emileeannalee would glance apprehensively at the ground fog below. Truuluuv the moon caressed her and seduced her to remain.

        Then Emileeannalee saw below in the slowly dancing ground fog the glow of her two dear muundog friends Bethesaadzsaad and Dilaanaad.

       …

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FALL OF THE SPARROW

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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FALL OF THE SPARROW

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        I had a great idea for Halloween night.

        It was going to be a beautiful clear night, not really spooky, but there was going to be a total eclipse of the full moon to set the festive Halloween mood. The “blue moon” this October would turn into a “blood moon”.

        I was going to fly my new Carlson Aircraft SparrowUltra-LTA around all night, cloaking the Sparrow with gossamer fabric to make it look like a bat.

        The new Sparrow Ultra- LTA was designed as a low-altitude personal conveyance. You could fly it to work but you couldn’t shop with it, not yet anyway (because of the added weight and all). It was more like… sky surfing.

        The Sparrow resembled a hang-glider. The big wing and the suspended mini-fuselage below were made of ultra-thin neoplastic containing the Helium-Honeycomb technology. The…

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