WRITER with flash BLOG

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UXO
by
RD Larson

Found how to on the web;
Bought ingredients at eBay;
Mixed in kitchen and yard;
Blew the school to hell;
on an empty dark night.
Homeland Security took me
Away.
Bad
Evil Do-er
UXO is a mind-set
emanation from
high
away
Bad
Good Do-er.
Found liberals on the web;
Sought insurrgents to say
Mixed in home and street
Blew the lies to hell
Won the freedom back.

Is Miz Tushi Bushi Abroad? She's not really a Broad in the broadest sense of the word or in the coarsest meaning either. But did she EVER step in to hot pile when she married HIM. Poor thing. We're not going to really let him end the filibuster, veto stem cell research (so other countries can make millions) and turn the time back to the age of the Puritans? Sheesh, they had more witch hunts for nothing then Saddam. Also get this are you ready to give your life over to Tushi Bushi? With our patriot act card and the new rules, we better be careful. It could be you or me next.  

Isn't that Tushi Bushi something else? Look for my work at www.useless_knowledge.com and UK issues of Slate. 

somehow, my left eye is messed up. First it twitched and now it feels swollen. So now I'm wearing my glasses but of course I can't see because I always wear my contacts.  

a rainy day in the spring 

Be Careful Who You Trust
By
RD Larson

Ernesto knew he was better than the people who adopted him. Better than many of the people he with whom he associated. He'd never liked living in Chile. He'd always wanted to go some other place where there were more white people than brown people. Most of the people were Indian or Spanish. He was one of the few white men in his small town.

By right of color and intelligence he was the leader. He read many books, ordering them from the country his grandfather had ruled and from elsewhere in Europe. For his sixteenth birthday he was given a trip to Europe by his adoptive parents. He chose Germany. Within days of his arrival, Ernesto made friends with other young people with his same political views.

When he returned to Chile, he had lists of contacts from his friends in Germany. In a few months a political group was formed. At first they met publicly but media attention put an end to that. The Restoration Alliance met in secret.

Ernesto encouraged his companions to ask other white people to join their group. Each member had to under go careful scrutiny to assure his or her acceptance. They had to believe in God. And they had to believe in 'the cause' of the Restoration Alliance and be willing to die for their beliefs.

After a year they sent cells of operatives to many of the white nations. One such nation was the United States. Ernesto signed up to recruit in Texas. As he was a personable and likable young man he easily made friends with one of the states wealthiest families. He became close friends with the son closest in age. Ernesto and George were more alike than not. When George rand for a political off Ernesto stayed in the back ground constantly talking quietly to George about morality. George leaned on him for a clear view of society.

It has only now come to light that Ernesto is the grandson of Adolph Hitler and George -- well, you can guess who he is yourself. 

I writing a couple of science fiction stories, one about Aliens and one about Oil Drilling on Mars. I'm also rewriting a script.  

WRITER with flash BLOG

After the Fox
By
RD Larson

© 2005 Rd Larson

Dusk on the west coast is like nowhere else. We were standing on the rock path admiring my flowers. It’s a small tidy area so I give it special attention that I couldn’t give a big garden.

Zippy lay in the driveway looking down hill at the road. He looked like any big dog guarding his home, except he’s only ten pounds of wiry muscle. The neighbors rumbled down the driveway in their truck. The light from the setting sun caught at the top of the firs and slanted in multi-levels across the verdant green branches.

Suddenly, with a roar Zippy leapt to all fours. Every hair along his back rose. His eyes glowed gold. His bark (for such a little guy) is deafening. I grabbed his harness.

“What is it?” I peered into the underbrush.

“Can’t tell -- Oh look -- a fox running down the road.” My husband looked excited. The fox, black with white tip on his tail, looked back. Bad move.

Zippy flew forward. If he’d had tires, they would have screeched. Down the road like a black streak, he ran after the fox.

“Wait, no, Zippy.” I yelled, knowing the fox could turn any moment and slash the chew-wiener dog to shreds.

Of course, he didn’t listen. After him ran my husband. He was yelling, “Here Zippy! Here, boy.”

Zippy didn’t listen. The fox and the dog disappeared around the bend in the road with Hubby is pursuit. I was still standing at the top of the driveway, frozen.

I dashed down the driveway toward husband, dog and fox. As I reached the road, I looked for them. My hubby was still running down the road.

“Here, Zip. Here, Zippy.”

Behind him ran Zippy as fast as his tired little legs could take him. I could tell Zippy was yelling, “Hey, Dad, I’m here. I’m here.”
I started laughing so hard I couldn’t call them. The fox had run into the woods, Zippy didn’t follow, and my hubby had run on by. Zippy ran out of the woods behind him.

Finally, I shouted through my giggles, “Stop, he’s behind you.” Choking with laughter, I sank into the grass when my hubby stopped and Zippy smashed into him when he turned.

I was laughing too hard to see who carried who back home.

End

Zippy the Adventure Dog 

WRITER with flash BLOG

WRITER with flash BLOG
first writer - Writing Resource & Author Website

Wahoo! Tushie Bushi is touring again on our tax dollars or maybe special interest dollars. He took his funnywoman so he could be the straight man. Just think how much travel those two can manage to do before they retire and have to take trips on a budget. All six countries will be looking for answers to Why Iraq? and twiddling their thumbs as he mumbles reply after reply without a single orginal thought. Or just repeat of another earlier statement. Russia, seriously opposed to the war in Iraq, is the only one of the six that refused to send troops. For once could we all please see if something comes from this? I keep picturing all of them (Tushi Bushi, CondoBondo, Rummy, et al.) photographed with speaking clouds above their heads with no message or words in it. Frightening? No, but so odd.

On to better things: baseball Americana That honored All-American sport is off and running as is the Derby. Talk about crossing genres. Is this the end of specialization? That would be a first in 30 years. Hopefully, the medicating manipulators will stumble and fall. Remember the strike and how we all hated baseball?

Okay, go to my website www.RDLarson.com and sign up for flash fiction. Please. I need to eat.

RD Larson writer at large -- novels, short stories and NOW flash fiction by subscription

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I swore on my sword by word I'd not write another word about Bush. Tush tush! Still he reams out the country like the bumpkin (IQ wise) that he is. Now he's the straight man for the the desperate housewife comedian. Et tu, Brute. I am so tired, tired of our troops fighting, of our companies ripping us off, tired of people coming here from somewhere else and expecting a free ride, tired of the cost of gas and medicine and food, I tell you, I am sick of it. Sick to the bone. Since 9/11 just look at how Tushie Bushie has failed. 1) Can't find Bin Laden? I think he could find him. 2) Can't find the creep who put the anthrax in the mail? Why not if he's such a hot president? 3)Can't make the Iraqis all get along? Not surprising since we don't all get along. And they are three different PEOPLE. 4) Can't understand why he wants to make it Christian/Freedom vs Islam/Terrorism? He choked on more than a pretzel.

I know I'm going on and on. But I am sick of it -- sick to the bone. Vote everybody out. Stupid politicians, stupid voters, we're a bunch of idiots if we keep pretending the country is okay.

Keep tuned and I will tell you about the screw-ups and give you links to look it up yourself.

By the way if you want my fiction, buy a subscription. I have to pay my internet bills.

So lo-o-o-o-g dear reader.