Green Desert - Chapter 4.5.5 - Vata

“I’m sorry, sirs. He isn’t here. He came back, yes, but he left on foot with his girlfriend. It looked like they were going east, but they must have turned off the road by now.” I hoped the patrolmen believed me. They had to believe me. Who wouldn’t trust a little old lady?
I had no idea why my husband was helping the criminal and his girlfriend. It was one thing to heal wounds, but this was something different. Not that it mattered, though. Pí‘oro was helping them and that’s all I needed to know.

The two lieutenants whispered to each other, then one of them hurried away. I heard the front door open, but not close. Very well, we’d cool the entire desert.

The remaining patrolman looked toward the door like he was listening, but I heard nothing.

“Let him in,” he called.

The front door finally closed. The tall blond man turned to face me. “Did Zhudıro or his girlfriend give any indication where they might be headed?”

Before I could answer, Deputy Tépíto Laparıpasamı came into view and stopped beside the taller man. The young deputy smiled at me. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kılímo. Go ahead and answer his question, if you don’t mind.”

I nodded and took a breath. Had they said anything to me about their intentions? I didn’t want to lie if I didn’t have to. “I. . . I do not recall them saying anything about that.”

The lieutenant frowned. The deputy nodded.

online dating leads to online wedding

Taking long-distance relationships to a whole new level, two lovebirds have gotten married online, having never met each other. The groom lives in California and the bride in Malaysia (although she travelled to Indonesia for the ceremony).

Green Desert - Chapter 4.5.4 - Zhíno

Someone fired a gun, but it wasn’t the cop––I didn’t get hit. I finished rolling over to my stomach and looked up. Pí‘oro and the foreign kid were fighting over a gun.

The cop yelled, “Drop the weapon!”

Neither did. Pí‘oro was going to get himself killed.

“Drop the gun, Mr. Kılímı!” Did he think he was protecting me with this suicidal action? Because he certainly wasn’t. But he was helping himself even less. The brunette policewoman had her gun leveled right at the old man.

She had another gun in her holster. Did the old fool expect me to take it? To shoot the cop? To shoot the kid? Sure, the foreigner shot me twice, but I was healed now, so that didn’t matter anymore.

The cop fired. Pí‘oro lurched backwards, holding his gut, and fell down on his side. Blood seeped around his thick fingers.

The dark-haired teenager froze, kneeling upright, the big man in front of him.

I stayed where I was, but said, “Somebody, help him. Kid, help him.”

The foreigner’s head jerked towards me at “kid,” but then he set the gun down and crawled to look at the wound.

The policewoman turned to point her gun at me. I stayed motionless.

The teenager exclaimed, “Why did you shoot his guts?”

The cop bit her lower lip and tried to holster her gun, unsuccessfully. She spun to face the other two and ordered, “Apply pressure to the wound.”

Oh gods.

Outhouses on Wheels

Do you have a spare outhouse sitting around the house? Is it on wheels? Maybe you'll want to take it to Conconully, Washington this weekend for the 23rd annual outhouse races. If you win, you'll get a neato trophy!

For those who don't know, Conconully is near Omak and Tonasket. It used to be the county seat, a hundred or so years ago.

Clean-Off-Your-Desk Day!

Today is Clean-Off-Your-Desk Day. So clean off your desk!

The only problem is that once I cleaned off my desk, the floor beside my desk was suddenly quite messy. . .

Green Desert - Chapter 4.5.3 - Séara

I had my gun on Zhudırı and was unclipping my handcuffs from my belt as he obligingly rolled over onto his stomach. He didn’t seem nearly so dangerous as everyone made him out to be. I wondered if he really was the right guy. He seemed much too peaceful to have shot a patrolman in cold blood.

A scuffle broke out behind me. A gunshot. I spun to see Bhanar and the old man wrestling over the gun. I raised my gun and shouted, “Drop the weapon,” hoping at least one of them would listen. If Mr. Kılímı let go, good. If Bhanar let go, I’d shoot Mr. Kılímı. But neither paid attention.

Mr. Kılímı yanked on the gun and the foreigner fell to his knees.
Behind me, Zhudırı shouted, “Drop the gun, Mr. Kılímı!” But the big man didn’t listen to his captor––his friend?––any more than he had listened to me.

I knew I should do something. But what? My gun covered both of them. I watched where their gun pointed. Not at me or Zhudırı. Moving towards Bhanar. Mr. Kılímı––the weak, out-of-shape old man––was winning the struggle. And yet Bhanar looked so strong.

Their gun pointed at Bhanar’s head. I aimed for Mr. Kılímı’s thigh and fired.

As the blast echoed in the gully, the big man let go of the gun and crumpled over, clutching his stomach.

Massive Deforestation Reduces Global Warming. . .

Here's one more reason to burn down all the forests (besides the fiscal policy of the Golgafrinchams): Trees cause global warming! According to a study published in _Nature_ magazine, plants may account for "between 10 and 30 per cent of all annual global emissions of methane."

And here I was blaming it all on the cows.

Burning Love leads to Stabbed Love

The next time you feel like listening to one song over and over again to celebrate the King's birthday, you might want to rethink it lest your girlfriend stabs you six times in the head with a pair of scissors. I guess she just didn't think he was a hunk a hunk of burning love. Go figure.

darkness

I'm really quite sick of having to get up while it's still dark out. Why can't our clocks be set to the sunrise time? You know, so civil sunrise is always at six o'clock no matter where you are.

Ah, for the good ol' days before reliable clocks.

Green Desert - Chapter 4.5.2 - Sétıpímo

“Zhíno Zhudırı will be in the jail in fifteen minutes.” I slammed down the phone. “Pétíso take the state patrol.” Nulıpéshı needed help. Laparıpısamı should be there by now. They both needed help. I should never have let the brass put those two kids on the dayshift together.

I considered waking up Mupí and Émıkangı––it was almost time for their shift anyhow––but I was already halfway to the front door.

The phone rang.

I cursed, “Pétíso!” and went back to answer it. “Tuhanı Precinct.”

A woman’s voice. “Sétıpímo? This is Hérına at the Temple of Vuzhí.”

“Good afternoon, Hérına.” I hadn’t seen here for several days. “What warrants giving me the pleasure of hearing your beautiful voice?”

“You’re too kind, Séto. There’s a strange car in the parking lot here. Broken window. I heard voices and car doors and looked outside, but they were gone.”

Zhudırı’s car. “A brown Sonla sedan?”

“Um. . . I think so. It could be. Should I go check? It’s definitely brown.”

“No need to check. You’ve been a marvelous help. I’ve got to run, but could you please call Tamé and have him tow it?” I had to get to the Kılímıs’.

“I’ll do that.”

“Thank you, Héra. Go in Her name.”

“Go in Her name.”

I hung up the phone and jogged to the front door.

Advertising

I think Del Monte has gone too far. Just look at their marketing ploy they got going now: They're putting fruit stickers on real twenty-dollar bills *during* the printing process! I mean, come on. That's hardly legal, is it?

New camera, new pic

Here's my favorite picture so far with my new camera:



It's from my business trip to Spokane, coming in for a landing at Sea-Tac.

I can almost figure out what streets those streaks are. . .

Springtime is nigh

It's time to take down your Christmas decorations. Really, take them down! Now. Today. . . . I took mine down last night.