More Of My Adventures As An Obscure Writer

More Of My Adventures As An Obscure Writer

A Story by Willys Watson

More Of My Adventures As An Obscure Writer

1. Vanity As A Pronoun

Sarah The Park Ranger and I have become good friends and, when she has the time, we see each other often. I don’t want to call it dating yet, but we seem to like each other and have a lot in common.

During her day off today Sarah, Bart and Jill Bigfoot and I sat on my front porch enjoying the mild Fall weather and listening to classical music. We weren’t talking much and were just absorbing the leaves turning colors, a tranquil moment about to be interrupted by a new visitor to my property.

A male Peacock slowly came strolling up my pathway. This seemed rather odd to me because I didn’t know there were any Peacocks in the area. As it neared the porch it spread it’s tail to display it’s colorful plumage.

“In case you already didn’t know, I’m the famous Prince Peacock,” he introduced himself. “And I thought showing you my magnificent plumage might ring a bell.”

“Didn’t ring my bell, but it’s nice to meet you, Prince. I’m Jill and my mate is Bart and the others are Sarah and George.”

“Okay. Whatever, but I’m wondering if there are any female Peacocks in the area?”

“Not that I know of,” I told Prince. “But the City Zoo in the closest town may have some.”

“A city zoo?” Prince exclaimed. “Why would I want to mate with a female Peacock foolish enough to let herself be captured?”

“Well, perhaps she was born there,” Bart offered.

“That’s even worse! Do I look that desperate?” Prince asked us as he turned to walk away.

“Prince, our weekly Poker night is four days from now. It’s always held down by the river bank,” I suggested and we watched him turn around. “A female Peacock might be there.”

“Might be?”

“Considering we’ve had a Mockingbird, a Raccoon, a Macaw, a Mermaid and other players show up perhaps a female Peacock will be there,” Bart replied.

“Okay, I’ll stop by and if a female Peacock it there I’ll give her the thrill of her lifetime,” Prince told us, then strutted back down the pathway.

“He certainly isn’t lacking in the low self-esteem department, is he?” Sarah asked with a sly grin.

“You noticed, huh?” I countered. “But I didn’t write this opening. I paid Rocky The Raccoon three stale slices of Pizza to write this.”

“I was wondering why George’s attempts at humor have improved,” Bart told Sarah. 

As they looked at me and smiled, waiting for my retort, all I could think of was how wonderful it is to have friends who accept us as ourselves.

2. Rocky’s Mate

Jill and Bart wanted to head back to their cabin and Sarah and I decided to take a leisurely drive through the countryside. And as we stood up to part company Rocky and a female Raccoon came scurrying up the pathway.

“This is my mate, Rosie The Raccoon,” Rocky proudly announced. Then told Rosie, “There are my friends Jill and Bart Bigfoot and the humans are Sarah and George.”

“Nice to meet you, Rosie,” Bart told her as he offered to shake her hand. But when he reached down to shake her paw she meekly backed away.

“It’s okay, Honey,” Rocky assured her. “Jill and Bart Bigfoot are myths anyway and won’t hurt you or anyone. And they’re my good friends.”

“Okay, I suppose,” Rosie replied as she shook his hand with her paw.

“How did you two meet?” I wondered.

“You could call it fate or Serendipity, but Rosie and I happened to arrive at the same time to push over the same trash can.”

“That I understand, because Bart and I met by accident,” Jill informed Rocky.

“Is Roswell around?” Rocky asked me. “I want to thank him for his predication that came true.”

“No, but he’ll show up soon when I post again on the Only Real People site I use.”

“Okay, but we gotta go because I want to show Rosie around our protected property,” Rocky told us. And we smiled, waved and watched them scamper away again.

“You’re not going to tell him that Roswell predication was something you wrote into the story, are you?” Sarah quizzed me with a wide grin.

“Of course not. I’ve grown to love Rocky.”

“I didn’t think so, but I have a question for you directly, Mr. Obscure Writer. How come I can’t speak or understand animal talk except when I’m on this protected property?”

“I have no idea. So you better ask Roswell because he created me,”

Bart laughed, then patted me on my shoulder and Sarah and I watched as they headed towards their cabin. When they were out of sight Sarah and I headed down towards the gate.

“You’re witty and original, George, but you’re an odd specimen of a human.”

“Thank you, I suppose.”

“By the way, when I was visiting Jill and Bart, he told me that people from Roswell’s planet could only observe and study Earthlings and were not allowed to intervene in anything that happens on our planet. Is this true?”

“Almost always, but there are some rare exceptions. Areas Roswell calls Safe Zones where their presence there will be keep secret by humans they trust.”

“Like this protected property?” After I nodded yes Sarah asked, ‘And Roswell doesn’t write or make any suggestions to what you write?”

“Of course not because that, too, is intervention. However, he has inspired some of my stories,” I admitted as we reached the gate.

3. Roswell Returns Again. Or Maybe Not.

When I was alone in my cabin that evening I E-mailed Roswell and asked if he would be returning soon and mentioned Rocky found a female Raccoon mate named Rosie. His reply was unusual, almost cryptic in a way, because he said it depends on his mate’s schedule. And added during her vacation she wanted to visit planets she hadn’t been to before. Has she visited Earth or not? Knowing him as well as I thought I did, I figured he might show up here again without telling me first. And I wondered just how much he had told her about our friendship and the unusual visitors my protected property gets from time to time. 

As I went to bed I simply told myself what happens will happen.

Later the next morning Jill and Bart stopped by and as we sat on my front porch I mentioned Roswell’s reply.

“Who knows what that celestial loony will do,” Bart told me as he drank his Coffee. “But if she shows up here I would love to meet a woman who would put up with Roz.”

“I know that feeling well,” Jill teased Bart as she looked at me.

“I deserved that, but still she doesn’t deserve me, dude. But I love this woman,” Bart told me, then laughed while looking a Jill.

“Personally, I think you two have been watching too many old school romantic films with cliched dialogue,” was my snappy comeback, then I asked, “What’s your plans today?”

“We’re going to see if we can find Rocky and Rosie,” Jill told me. “And hopefully find Andy The Alligator and warn him eating our friends is a no-no.”

As they left I started fixing a late breakfast, then when on-line for an hour. After eating I walked down to the river and found Andy The Alligator on the bank, soaking in the warmth from the Sun.

“Dude, you really need some kind of visitor filter for these strange creatures that show up on your property,” Andy suggested as he looked up at me.

“Not for Jill and Bart?” I asked and when Andy shook his head no, asked again, “Not the card cheating Mermaid again?”

“I wish because I would have had her for lunch,” Andy replied. “No, but it was some weird looking female, if that’s what she was, and she sort of looked like Roswell.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Of course, but I don’t think she speaks or understands Alligator.”

“Did you notice which way she went from here?”

“Up, I suppose, because she vaporized like Roswell does.”

“Sounds about right,” I replied, then asked, “Has Rocky showed up to introduce his new mate.”

“Oh, yeah. And I really like her because, unlike the rest of you, she doesn’t have an inflated ego.”

“I’ll remember that, you slime covered Lizard,” 

Andy laughed as only an Alligator can and I headed back to my cabin.

4. Roswell’s Mate Returns. Or Maybe Not.

When I got back to my cabin an Alien, looking a lot like a stereotypical female version of Roswell, was sitting on my front porch. 

“Hello, George,” she said as she patted the deck, suggesting I sit down beside her.

“Roswell’s mate, I presume?”

“Well, I’m certainly not Doctor Livingstone,” she replied with a wink.

“At least I don’t have to teach you my version of humor.”

“Oh, no. I’ve already read your stories.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” was the only reply I could think of. “I know you visited Andy first, but he thought you didn’t speak English or Alligator.”

“I do, but didn’t want to freak him out. Of course I can speak most animal and English. It’s a lot easier to learn that a language like Swahilli.”

“I’m sure it is. But have you visited us before?”

“Define here. Here as in your protected property or here as in somewhere else on this planet?” she teased me.

“I’m not sure I want to know, but what first name do you go by.”

“One you can’t pronounce. And I know you call my mate Roswell or Roz, so just call me Ray.”

“I like the name Ray. And is Roz here, too?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t.”

“Being cryptic must run in the family?”

Not really, but being careful, for obvious reasons, does. Still, Roz has assured me this is a Safe Zone.”

“Yes, Ray. And would you like to visit Jill and Bart now. I’m sure they’re back at their cabin.”


We stood up as Ray morphed into the female version of what Roswell really looks like and we headed to Jill and Bart’s cabin.

5. Returning To Our Version Of Normal.

As we walked up the part to Jill and Bart’s cabin Ray did most the talking and I was fine with that because I knew about her.

“Roz told me about when he first met you and how you passed the simplified tests that told him you likely could be trusted. And, although we’ve had advanced technology for centuries, we certainly aren’t mind readers and could never master the ESP concept. However, we all seem to have a natural instinct to know who we can or can’t trust.’

“That always speeds up the investigation, doesn’t it?”

“Of course, and Roz told me you won’t let him help you achieve recognition for your writing.”

“That’s true,” I admitted. “But he’s inspired some of my recent short stories.” 

As we arrived at Jill and Bart’s cabin there was a note, pinned on the front door, that read: ‘Roswell told us Ernie The Elk is back and we’re going to look around to see if we can find him. If not, we’re heading down to the riverbank.’

“You feel like a little more exercise?” I asked Jill after we read the note. After she nodded yes we walked towards the riverbank.

“I just have one more question, if that’s okay with you?” when I nodded yes, Ray continued, “Did if bother you, knowing you don’t want Roz to advance your writing, that he bought the property between your’s and The National Park and donated it to them.”

“Of course not, because he wasn’t doing it for me. He just wanted to expand the Safe Zone.”

“I like you, George, but really haven’t had any experience with a human like you.”

“Why, because I comb my teeth and floss my ears?”

“Yes, among other things.”

6. The Taste Of Feathers

When we arrived at the riverbank Jill and Bart were there, as well as Andy The Alligator and Mick The Mockingbird and his girlfriend Mavis The Macaw. And this time both of them were perched on top of Andy’s head.

“My friends, this is Ray, Roswell’s mate,” I told everyone as I introduced her. “I know she and Andy met earlier, but there was a language problem.”

“I’m sorry, Andy, but I wasn’t sure how to talk to you because I wasn’t sure if you were an Alligator or a Crocodile and I’ve heard Crocodiles have really bad attitudes.”

Andy laughed so hard Mick fell off his perch. As Andy regained his composure Mick climbed back up to his perch.

“I’m glad someone in your family has a sense of humor, Ray. And welcome to our extended family,” Andy finally said.

Ray and I sat on the unused flat stones that circled the area where we build our campfire and one by one each of my friends introduced themselves to her. And after what I considered a respectful amount of time I focused on Andy until I caught his attention.

“Excuse me everyone, but I really need to ask Andy a question.” After each one nodded I looked directly at Andy. “My friend, I was just wondering if you’ve seen a Peacock, one who calls himself Prince, around the riverbank?”

“No, no, I’m sure. After you left I dove into water and went underwater hoping to find my meal for the day. I didn’t see any big enough fish around but noticed a really plump Duck trying to swim from one back to another. It did seem sick or something because it had trouble swimming and, because none of us have a Duck as a friend, I figured it was okay to have it for lunch. So, it wasn’t a Peacock.”

“No one faults you for being your natural self, Andy, and we all know Alligator’s are not exactly vegetarians,” Bart assured him.

“Thank you, and I would never eat anything we’ve made friends with. But the odd thing about eating that sick duck is when I pulled it underwater and started chomping of it that thing tasted more like a Chicken than a Duck and those weird, colorful tail feathers almost caused me to gag and have indigestion and ... and ... Dear Alligator God in the sky, did I really eat a Peacock?’

“No. Andy, Prince Peacock told us he was hitching a ride into town to visit the city Zoo to mate with one of their female Peacocks,” I told Andy to remove any stress he had.

“Somewhere, some poor female Peacock will have her heart broken,” Bart whispered to Jill.

Without me seeing him approach, Mick and Mavis flew from their perch on Andy’s head and landed on Eric The Elk’s back.

When I turned around to face him every one of my friends welcomed him home.

“Roswell told me it was safe to return home, you guys. Have I missed anything interesting?”

“Nope. It’s been the same old, same old routine,” Andy told him and we all laughed.

7. Mating Or Dating Or Waiting?

“Have you found a mate yet, Eric?” Bart asked.

“Honestly, I haven’t been looking until I came back to our protected property.”

“They have a web site for lonely Elks now,” Mick suggested to tease Eric.

“Get off my back now, Mick, or we’re going swimming together.”

Mick and Mavis flew up and perched again on Andy’s head.

“I wouldn’t exactly say everything is the same old, same old,” Ray softly reminded everyone.

“It certainly is if you’ve spent time around ... around ... “Bart started to remind Eric and he focused on Ray, “Sorry, Eric. I was going to reply to you, but that hot looking Alien babe who is Roswell’s mate distracted me,” Bart told Eric as he pointed to Ray.

“Thank you for the complement and concern, Bart, but I’m not really hot. In fact, I’m quite comfortable sitting here.”

“And, unlike Roz, you can say funny things,” Bart replied whimsically. “And you are cute, Ray, but not female Bigfoot cute enough to appeal to me.”

“Nice save, Honey,” Jill told Bart as she patted his arm, then looked Ray. “So, Ray, where is Roz?”

“I really don’t know because I’m on vacation and he is visiting other Safe Zones.” 

“Do you two have crumb snatchers at home, Ray,” Jill wondered.

“They grew old enough to become Rug Rats and are moving up to the teen attitudes age.”

“What a great way to discourage us from having a child,” Jill teased Ray

“Not really, because Roz and I love our kids. So, are you expecting?”

“Well, until we moved into this Safe Zone neither of us felt safe having and raising a child.” Jill admitted, then asked Ray, “How many Safe Zones are there?”

“I’m not supposed to mention how many to an Earthling, but a clue might be that last week Roz might have been the Amazon Rain Forest.”

Suddenly Roswell vaporized again and stood beside Ray.

“That was last week. This week I was visiting an island Safe Zone where Amazon Woman may or may not live.” 

“Well, now we know where not to look for you, Roz,” Rocky replied with a silly smirk.

8. Shirley Sherlock The Amazon Squirrel And Liz The Loch Mess Monster Arrive

“Thank you for inviting me up here, Roz,” she told him as she dropped down from a tree branch and landed near him.

She was certainly a Squirrel but, at least to me, she was ten times larger than any Squirrel I’ve ever seen. Still, in it’s own way, this didn’t seem unexpected considering what shows around here. After she surveyed the diverse friends Roswell has made she looked up at him.

“I hope you don’t mind, Roz, but I’ve invited Liz The Loch Mess Monster to join us?”

“Liz? But her life is always such a mess!”

“Don’t let her hear that because she might snap you in two, you Green Dude” Shirley responded with a playful grin. “Besides, she has been seeing a Psychologist for two years.”

“Did he shrink her body or her brain?”

“That’s almost funny in a cliched way. So, ask her yourself  because she’ll be here soon.”

“Looks like we have an oversized worm floating in the water, in my own river without asking me first,” Andy noticed when he saw Liz swimming towards us.”

“Listen, you slime covered Lizard, I downsized my body to swim up this river,” she called to Andy. “Full sized I would squish you like a Frog.”

“Okay, okay, enough already,” Andy growled as he looked at me. “Damn, George, are you so tapped out as a writer that you keep milking the same lame line?”

“Don’t blame me, dude, because Rocky is writing this scene and I’m paying him with three stale slices of Pizza,” I replied, followed by laughter from the rest of my older friends.

When Liz The Loch Mess Monster reached the river bank she morphed into a woman dressed in the once trendy fashion look called Mod and looked down at Andy.

“Listen, you oversized shake with legs, you didn’t eat Prince The Peacock. I know because I gave him a ride on my back to the other side of the river. He thanked me, according to him, by spreading his colorful tail feathers and then confessed he was getting disparate to find a mate.” she informed him and watched him smile.

“Liz, you’re really not here because Shirley invited you, are you,” Roswell asked her.

“Not really, but she knew I was going to be in this area because we’re tracking migrating Geese from Easter Island back to their home in Atlantis and I track the strays,” she told Roz. Then she looked at Andy again. “That must have a migrating Goose you ate, Andy.”

“I’m so sorry,”

“Don’t be, because it was his fault. That stubborn guy wouldn’t stay in formation and decided to fly North and a had a wing clipped by a low flying Crop Duster. And he would have died soon anyway.” 

“A Crop Duster? That explains why, when I chomped into him, I thought I tasted some oil.”  After Andy said this all of my old friend here laughed.

9. An Unexpected Question 

“So, George, how is everything progressing with you and Sarah?” Ray asked me.

“People, can’t I have some privacy in my personal life?” I asked everyone here, while trying to make it sound like I was jesting.

“Not as long as you keep posting works in progress on that Only Real People web site,” Roz reminded me.

“Because of that remark I’m going to delete this story and start writing stories about cute Puppy Dogs,” I warned everyone in jest.

“Nice to meet all of you,” Liz said while ignoring me. “But I’ll be shoving off now.”

“Where to?” I wondered.

“First thing is I get so bored around those Yanks who drink watered down, weak Beer and don’t eat Pickled Eggs. And those of you uncultured Yanks who call Drought Beer Draft Beer are insane. I’m a Scotch Whiskey type of girl who loves her Pickled Eggs. Also, me and the rest of our crew are still tracking the migrating Geese until they reach Atlantis, their home.” she answered, then addressed us all. “In case you’re wondering, and many of you are, the reason why Shirley is much larger than the average Squirrel is because on the Amazon Islands Squirrels living there are trained to be Amazon fighters helping to protect their secret islands.”

"And I'm not known as Shirley Sherlock for nothing. I'm a highly respected detective I solve all the cases other animals, and many humans can't," having said this, Shirley jumped from the riverbank on our side and landed on the opposite riverbank, a leap I estimated to be at least forty yards. And though I considered this a remarkable ability the rest of the creatures, human or otherwise, on our side accepted it as natural. 

10. Liz Says Goodby

“Guess I was a bit hard on my distant kinfolk on your side on the pond. But maybe not hard enough.. So, after we get the rest of the Geese back home I’m heading back to my home,”

“Back to Wells?” Roz teased her.

“You goofy, British rock band hating mess of Green slime! You know I mean Scotland. And don’t show up there again anytime soon to visit Nessie, Roz. My brother doesn’t take kindly to verbal attacks on his family, even from an old mate of his,” she told him, smiled at everyone but Roz, then morphed again into being a Loch Mess Monster jumped into the water. After a moment of silence wondering if everything is back to normal Ray grinned at me.

“So, George, how is everything progressing with you and Sarah?” Ray asked me again.  

“We got married a month before we even met and we got divorced four months into the future.”

Ignoring me, Rocky stood up on his rear paws and looked around at everyone still at the camp site.

“Let’s pool enough money, if you have any, and whatever the rest of us think is worth something hire an editor for George. After he or she starts working we fire George as a writer,” Rocky suggested.

This reply from Rocky was funny enough that I laughed.

Suddenly both Roz and Ray vaporized, Mick and Mavis flew away, Andy headed into the river again, Eric turned a galloped away and Bart and Jill decided to leave.

11. Suggestions I May Or May Not Use

“George, Jill and I are heading back to our cabin to allow you enough time to realize how weird, how silly and funny story is and maybe, hopefully more than just maybe, you’ll go back to your cabin, grab a cold Draft Beer, go to your study and sit down at your desk and think about how to re-edit this story in include some profound, moral lessons for all your readers.”

“Nice try, you T-Rex wannabe, but I’m not sharing co-writer credits with you, Bart,” I called out to him as they walked back up the path to their cabin.

Still, I headed back to my cabin, grabbed a cold Draft Beer, went into my study, sat at my desk chair and pondered, if you can call it that, how to finish this story. And in case you’re wondering, and I’m sure you are, the Beer we all drink is a metaphor for life itself and may or may not be real Beer. I’m providing you readers with this disclaimer because this is a G-Rated story.

After writing this, I realized this is the shortest chapter I’ve ever written and decided to write a shorter one.

12. Again Back To Our Version Of Normal

Sarah and I were again sitting on my front porch because it was her day off. The weather was still mild for a Fall day and we sipped iced tea as we smiled at each other. I assumed Sarah expected me to say something, but I was too happy just having her visit me again.

“You know, George, I really like you, but I’m wondering what level our relation is taking,” she began. 

“I’m been wondering this, too, but I’m not sure how to end this short story,” I confessed.

She sat her glass on the porch, then suddenly, impulsively kissed me. And I welcomed the kiss because I have been wanting to kiss her but wasn’t sure she wanted me to.

“Well, that solves the major part of how this story ends,” I told her sincerely, “But I did write that Michael The Mudcat Catfish would return and I would give that pint-sized Cyclops a part in my next story.”

“Why not do both in this story.”

“Why not? Great suggestion, Sarah, because I want to focus on more serious, topical short stories again.”

“Go for it, George!” Sarah said, followed by another kiss.

“Starting right now,” I told her. Coming up next is Chapter Thirteen 

13. Michael The Mudcat Catfish Returns

Andy The Alligator was again sunning himself on the back of the river when Michael poked his head out of the water and called his name.

“Andy, my dear old friend, I wanted to thank you and my other Poker playing friends for freaking me out and causing me to swim upstream as fast as I could.”

“Why thank me for something you didn’t deserve. None of us were going to eat you.”

“I know that, you slime covered Lizard,” Michael said, followed by the type of laugh and Mudcat would make. “But I needed the motivation to go find a mate.”

After telling Andy this a female Mudcat poked her above the water line.

“I’m Mandy The Mudcat Catfish and I want to thank you for bringing this big hunk of a Mudcat into my life,”

“I’m so happy everything turned out right for you two,” Andy replied, followed by an Alligator grim. “Will you guys stay and visit for awhile?”

“We would love to, Andy, but we’re looking for a safe place to call home first,” Mandy told him.

“Don’t worry, Andy, because we’ll be back soon and we can teach her how to play Poker.”

Then they both went underwater and swam to wherever Mudcat Catfish swim to and Andy thought to himself that he hoped she doesn’t pull the ‘Roswell I don’t know what Poker is or how to play it’ trick on us.

14. Back To Trying To End This Story

Sarah sat on my porch reading the first draft of Chapter Twelve. When she finished reading she smiled at me.

“ I like Chapter Thirteen. Though it was short, it was sweet and very romantic.”

“Words a writer loves to hear. Thank you, but we still have the problem with getting that little pint-size Cyclopes a part.

“I don’t see a problem because I’m here,” the pint-sized Cyclopes shouted as he came running out of the woods. “So, what’s the part?”

“Well, let’s just it’s a pivotal part to ending this story.”

“A big part, I hope?”

“The amount of words spoken aren’t as important as the emotion they convey,” I told him. “But you’ll still receive full union pay.

“I’ll buy that. So what do I say?”

“You see this beautiful woman sitting beside me? I’m too shy to say it myself so I want you to tell her I love her.”

The pint-sized Cyclopes nodded his head, backed up several feet, cleared his throat and started singing;

“He thinks he love you,
but he’s not sure what love is.
He needs to know, to be told,
to be shown and to be held ...”

Sarah suddenly stood up, clapped her hand and ran to give the pint-sized Cyclopes a quick kiss on his head. The embarrassed Cyclopes pulled back from her and looked at me.

“That’s it? A short part even for a short character actor as myself.”

“That’s true, but it’s an award winning performance and you’re getting full union pay for it. And your scene will be remembered fondly for years to come.”

“Thank you both, and I’ll proudly look forward to getting my check,” he told us, then ran back into the woods.

After he was out of site Sarah and I sat back down on my front porch grinning at each other.

“Well?” I asked her after what seemed like minutes.

“Oh, I love this spontaneous ending. It’s short, sweet and very romantic. Still, it’s missing the most important part.”

“It can’t be. It’s perfect, though questionable, comedy. What could possibly be missing? The part about mailing the Cyclopes hid check? I’ll do that when I finally find a publisher,”

“You’re just evading the issue, Honey. Hearing you yourself say you love me and me telling you I love you.”

“Oh, that minor thing. We’ll, because I’m still very shy, it will have to wait until the next story.”

Sarah stared at me a moment, then suddenly rose and headed into the house.

“Honey, you know I was just joking. So, where are you going?”

“To the kitchen to grab a frying pan to hit you over the head with,” she called back to me.

“Now, that’s a weird way to show affection to a guy who loves you.”

“I didn’t hear that very well. So, say it again loudly and with conviction,” Sarah called back to me.

15. Because This Story Still Isn’t Finished Yet

When Sarah returned to my front porch, without the frying pan, she sat down beside me again and we kissed again. Unknown to us, a middle-aged man was photographing us. As he got closer I noticed him.

“My friend, this is private property and you’re trespassing,” I warned him.

“I don’t care because people have a right to know what’s going on here.”

“And just what is going on here, Mister?”

“Are you stupid or blind? I’ve heard there is a Bigfoot here,” he told us as if we were some kind of a out-liars hiding the truth. 

Suddenly Roswell vaporized again and walked up to the trespasser.

“You forgot us Aliens visiting here.”

“I just knew it. I just knew it,” the stranger replied as he aimed his camera at Roswell.

Somehow Roswell created an illusion, one I will never try to understand, because we suddenly all looked like we were Amish.

“We’re Amish,” Roswell told the befuddled trespasser. “So please respect our privacy.”

“But the photos I took?”

“You’ve got a digital camera, right? So review the photographs you took.”

The almost frantic trespasser did so and every photograph he took showed Amish people. Those who lived here, and those who drove horse-driven buggies who were visiting.”

“I ...I think...I’m... having a nervous breakdown.” 

“Most likely just stressed out from chasing myths without reason. So I’ll kindly, slowly walk you back to wherever you car is parked.”

“Thank you, you kind man. I really haven’t been myself after my wife ran off, taking my favorite dog and my pickup truck with her.”

Sarah and I watched silently as our sudden Amish friend walked the stunned man slowly off my property. When they were out of sight Sarah turned to me.

“You didn’t write this, did you?”

“Of course not. Some Amish stranger did.”

“So is this story finished now?

“I certainly hope so, but who knows as long as Roswell is here.

It was good enough for Sarah and we kissed and cuddled on my front porch.

16. Now The Whole Story Is Finished

When we stood up to head into my cabin Roswell was blocking the doorway.

“I just needed to say one last thing,” he told us after he returned to his normal appearance and stepped away from the door.

“And what is that?” Sarah asked the normal looking Roswell.”

“The first is very important, George, Ray and I can’t be often here to scare away snoopers, so you need to set up security cameras around your property.”

“Wouldn’t that be very expensive,” Sarah ask.

“George has the money now because of that stupid Rubber Duck concept he sold. And the other thing is a personal request from me. If you two decide to have a child or adopt one, please don’t call her or him Roz or Roswell.”

“Fat chance, Green Boy, so let us have our privacy”

Roswell nodded yes and vaporized.

“We really need a visitor filter, George.”

“True, but I sort of like the name Roz.”

“In that case I’m keeping the frying pan with me when we go to be.”

I wanted to laugh, but didn’t, because I knew what going to bed implied.

© 2021 Willys Watson

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Added on October 23, 2021
Last Updated on October 23, 2021
Tags: Humor, Aliens, Big Foot, Alligators, Si-fi, Myths


Willys Watson
Willys Watson

Los Angeles, CA

Writer, Artist, Scalawag. more..


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