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The Conch Adventure: Day 2

The Conch Adventure: Day 2

We’ve entered the Conch Republic. Our arrival was a bit of a let down, as we expected to be met with some fanfare. However, it appears that Americans visit this island nation quite frequently and the locals don’t seem to get that worked up about it.

IMG_0894On the way into the country we spotted a plain white airship with no markings. I believe it to be a spy ship of some sort from the NSA or the CIA. I believe they are spying on marine life, Conch Republic fisherman, and of course our movements. As we haven’t decided if the Conch locals are friends or foe, I will continue to travel under the name Rasputin.

We were also shadowed by a boarder patrol agent on our way from Miami. We documented his movements. Although the Conch Boarder entry isn’t secure, we fear this agent might impede our return to the U.S. If so, we will stay and do more research on what appears to be a growing rum industry in this country. IMG_0895

Mrs S had to be lured on this trip with the promise of fresh and abundant seafood. So far, she has not been disappointed. We’ve taken to the local dining establishments. We discovered BLT Benedict for breakfast (Bacon, lobster, & tomato). After tasting it,  I’m certain this might have something to do with the secession movement. I believe they want to keep it to themselves.

We have also discovered that the island seems to be overrun with chickens. They come and go as they please and don’t seem to have gainful employment. I asked a particular one if it bothered him that I was eating eggs. He looked at me with a level of contempt that told me that someday they would unite and peck their way to the ruling class. Already their numbers are alarming.

IMG_0923As for the humans, I spoke to a local named “Tim.” He didn’t want me to use his real name (Tim), so I put it in quotes. “Tim” tells me that many Cubans came to Key West for freedom and to expand the popular sport of cock fighting. When that practice was finally outlawed, they took up cock wrestling. The sport only lasted a few weeks, as it was not as popular and they couldn’t get the birds to wear the luchador masks. Now the only sport on the island that involves chickens is to see what middle school euphemism for the word cock you can print on a t-shirt.  KW5 011

We haven’t witnessed much unrest, but we do believe that the Conch Navy is planning a stealth mission under the guise of a fishing expedition. We observed these men getting ready to leave port and their behavior was most sinister. We will have to continue to monitor them from the bar, I mean, camouflaged look-out from which this photo was taken.

IMG_0973 Our quest to observe mischief and report on it from this curious island nation continues We will be visiting the home of Ernest Hemingway as well as a man who claims to be the U.S. Ambassador to the Conch Republic. I suspect both will be enlightening. Until our next report…

Carry on, Citizens!

 

The Conch Adventure Day 1

The Conch Adventure Day 1

pic_arrivalsWe’ve arrived in Miami. The flight was fine, but our journey almost began with a disaster. I left my primary blogging device back in my office. Outstanding Citizen Jodi delivered the device to us at the airport before we had to take off. Citizenry of this magnitude deserves flowers. Or Vodka. No it deserves both! It deserves flowers in a vase filled with vodka, I’m certain of it.

The airport smelled like a dirty mop and looked like a truck-stop. The glitz of South Beach hadn’t made it over here yet. I found many examples of unrest about to happen, but I avoided them. On another journey, I might have tried to encourage and then document the unrest (for purely academic reasons mind you), but such doings might distract from my primary mission. I pressed on.

There were lots of people speaking a foreign language. I could tell they weren’t speaking proper grammar, even though I didn’t understand their native tongue. As they crowded us on the train, they reeked of double negatives. The trail of tears to the rental car hub left me vanquished. Mrs. S negotiated for a vehicle. I requested something bullet proof, as visiting a rogue country could be dangerous. The rental car employee looked at me with curious and wary eyes. She almost didn’t let us have the car. “Does he have to drive this?” I think I heard her ask Mrs. S.

Our accommodations were more than adequate. I’ve checked in under the name Rasputin, as per my usual method of traveling in disguise. More to come.

Carry on, Citizens!

Free Fiction Friday: Forks

Free Fiction Friday: Forks

international_silver_queen_s_fancy_stainless_satin_black_accent_fork_P0000043228S0052T2Claudia Marie and Eleanor Grace surveyed the damage below them. Chairs were broken. Dishes were shattered. A butler sobbed as he pulled a silver fork from his left buttock. Where only ten minutes before sat thirty dinner guests, now only the injured butler remained. He was surrounded by unrecognizable puddles of sauces, chunks of meat (from a variety of animals) and of course, blood. The cause of this unseemly madness and the subsequent end of the dinner party was the handiwork of  the two smartly dressed and deliciously wicked women who now gazed down upon the mess.

“Did I see the Ambassador plunge his steak knife into the General from France?” asked Eleanor.

Claudia beamed with pride. “Yes, you did. If fate smiles upon us, their countries will be at war within a fortnight.”

“Do you think so?”

And now for something completely different…

And now for something completely different…

sd-cover-197x300The old Monty Python shows used to start with that line. And for my next book, well, let’s just say it’s completely different than anything I’ve done before. Drawing on H.G. Wells, Jules Verne, and modern Steampunk, I give you The Scarlet Dirigible. It will be available in July and if you would like to be on the mailing list for pre-orders and other goodies, sign up here.

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