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Hello my fellow Politiores Troglodytes. This Blog is a collection of Posts, Poems, & Short Stories that I write on a daily basis. If you find it entertaining, informative, and controversial, then I have done my job properly. Thank goodness too, because Karma has been on my case of late. I'm supposed to bring fifty people into the fold or I'll have to give back the part of Einstein's brain I inherited. No, I'm not one of the Scientists who got a piece of his brain when he died. Karma said, "Eat this knowledge. It'll make you smarter!" The bargain I made with Karma was, if I could change fifty people into Politiores Populos, I would be rewarded with my very own Lamborghini. So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Like what you're reading, then read on. P.S. Populo is Latin for people. Politiores is Latin for educated. Troglodytes is English for troglodytes. And Einstein's brain was stolen by Thomas Stoltz Harvey after his death in 1955 and eventually divvied up into 240 pieces. If you just read that last sentence, then you have just learned something and I'm just that much closer to fulfilling my commitment to Karma!

Friday, February 23, 2018

The Man From Mars - Episode Thirty Nine

   I finally had enough sense, or should I say enough embarrassment, to grab a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around my naked body.
   You sit in front of a man and a woman who look like Adonis and Aphrodite. See if you don't get a little embarrassed with the flabby parts of your body!
   By this time, my nose had stopped bleeding, and with drips of dried caked blood on my lap and chest, I felt it was as good a time as ever to get in the shower.
   I stood up, with the blanket still wrapped around me, when I realized I still didn't know where the amulet was.
   "Tiny!" I exclaimed. "I don't know where the amulet is!"
   He looked at me with that disgusted look, only he can give, and said, "I put it in one of your shoes. Take your clothes with you. I assume you are going to take a shower finally?"
   "He does smell pretty bed." The woman had to say loud enough for me to hear.
   "Are you sure he is the right man for the job? To wield the amulet?" She added, looking at Tiny.
   "Akela," said a frustrated sounding Tiny. It was the first time I heard her name. "If Ponleak says this is the human who should own the amulet, who are we to judge?"
   "But Ponleak has been our leader for over four-hundred-thousand Earth years. Where has he gotten us?" Akela asked Tiny. "We hide our true identity on this world. We cannot show these humans that we are superior to them in every way. With Bopha as our leader, we could mold this planet, these people, into a world where we, the Atlanteans, could ascend into the Galaxy and take our rightful place as its rulers."
   "As we ruled Atlantis?" An angry Tiny asked Akela.
   "Those leaders, on Atlantis, were fools. Who only wanted to protect their power over others." Akela tried explaining. "They didn't care about venturing out into outer-space. To colonizes other Worlds. To expand the Empire. They were old buffoons who couldn't even see there own dying civilization falling apart."
   "And you're telling me it will be different this time?" Asks Tiny.
   "We will rule these people with an iron fist and make a great Empire among the stars."
   This whole time I was watching this scene unfold before me, I was frozen in place. Listening intently. 
   Tiny squints his eyes and curls his eyebrows, looking piercingly into Akela and says, "How is that any different from the way our former leaders treated us and our own people?"
   "Don't be a fool Phuc." Akela sneers. "These are not people. They are baboons. Monkeys that we have guided and enlighten to be our slaves. To work for us. Not as Ponleak would have it."
   Akela looks my way and acts as if she is about to be sick.
   "Look at this pathetic creature. His kind wasn't even the strongest primate on this planet when we arrived."
   Her disdain for me was quite evident to me by now.
   "Ponleak and his grand scheme of things. Of developing a race of beings worthy of the amulet. This ape doesn't even know what kind, and how much power the amulet possesses." Akela pauses for a moment to show her hatred for me, then says, "He is a fool. And you are a fool to follow him."
   At that very moment, with all the hatred one can have for the human race, Akela points the pistol at Tiny.
   As an Investigative Reporter, over the years, you come across stories which seem hard to believe, or impossible to believe, but are true.
   The whole time the conversation between Akela and Tiny was going on, I kept staring at the gun in her hand, as she held it to her side. I kept my eyes on that gun.
   For some odd reason though, when Akela started talking about Ponleak, I started thinking about a piece I wrote a long time ago. It was about a Buddhist Monk who claimed he could dodge a bullet at a length of one-hundred yards or more between himself and an assailant. He said he has done the feat on more than one occasion.
 See the source image
   I was offered a bunch of money by one of the tabloids you see at the local supermarket if I could get an interview with this Monk and get photos of him in action.
   In the early days of my career, a bunch of money is a very enticing carrot to go get a story, no matter who is paying. So I got out my passport, got a visa to travel to China, and found this Monk living modestly in a small village.
   When I met him, I couldn't see off hand anything special about the man. But I still asked him, if there was anyway of him demonstrating the act of dodging a bullet for me.
   He said, since the word got out, about him escaping death from the hands of a gun toting assailant, his life has become a circus. Where total strangers will ask if they can take potshots at him.
   I swore that it would only happen on his terms and only if he agreed to do it in front of my camera.
   So, after a lot negotiation, the day came for the demonstration.
   He not only escaped from harm from one bullet, but he did it three times that day. And I got all the photos anyone could ever hope for.
   After it was over, I asked the Monk his secret and he told me, "When the assailant is holding a gun in his right hand, when he pulls the trigger, the action of his hand will slightly move the gun to his left. If he is not an expert marksman and does not compensate, at one-hundred yards, his shot could be off a few or more inches. Maybe even a foot. That is why I jump to my left. If he holds the gun in his left hand, I jump to my right."
   After that, I thought about it and I figured he was a pretty smart to figure that out. But then he added, "You never watch the gun. That is the worst thing you can do. When you see the gun go off, it is already too late. You have to look at the gunman's face and eyes. The expression on his face will begin to change slightly and his eyes will tell you when he is about to fire the gun. That is when you jump. Not when the gun is fired."
   So, when Akela pointed the pistol at Tiny, I knew to stare at her face. At her eyes. Not the gun.
   When I saw the slightest flinch in her eyes, I yelled, "Tiny!" Jumping at her from about ten feet away.
   I didn't even get close enough to stop her. Because I was tripping over myself, because I had one foot on the edge of the blanket that I used to cover myself and fell flat on my face. Once again bloodying my nose.
   On my way down, looking at the floor coming at my face, I heard one gunshot, then the cracking of some bones. I thought Akela had shot Tiny in the chest and I heard his bones break from the bullet.
   Not daring to move, spitting blood into a larger and larger pool around my face, I waited for the inevitable bullet to the back of my head.
   After a body dropped to the floor, I heard Tiny say, "You can say hi for me to Bopha after I send him to Naraka too!"
   Still looking into my own pool of blood, I use my peripheral vision to see Akela lying next to me with a broken neck.
   I turn over relieved, reaching for the helping hand that Tiny is offering.
   I grab hold, and as I am being lifted up, I say, "So, your name is Phuc, huh?"
   He immediately lets go, dropping me back onto the floor. Onto my own pool of blood.



To Be Continued.....

Next Week.

This is, 
Naraka Is The Sanskrit Word For The Underworld,
A Place Of Torment,
Hell.
Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“True change is within; leave the outside as it is.”
- Dalai Lama XIV, -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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