Ozzymandias's profile

“Bye-bye good times, Back to school again.” “Back To School Again” Timmie “Oh Yeah” Rogers. George started eighth grade on September 1, 1958. His homeroom teacher, Mr. Cook, asked him how he thought this year would be. “It can’t be any worse than last year, Sir.” The previous year had been a disaster grade wise. He had squeaked by with for C’s and two D’s. His parents spent most of the year in conference with teachers being told, “George is not applying himself. He needs to make good grades...

“Bye-bye good times, Back to school again.” “Back To School Again” Timmie “Oh Yeah” Rogers George started eighth grade on September 1, 1958. His homeroom teacher, Mr. Cook, asked him how he thought this year would be. “It can’t be any worse, Sir.” The previous year had been a disaster grade wise. He had squeeked by with for C’s and two D’s. His parents spent most of the year in conference with teachers being told, “George is not applying himself. He needs to make good grades for us to beat t...

Chapter Five Dolly woke George up for Sunday school. She made pancakes for him and told him that she would wash out the Log Cabin syrup dispenser so he could have it for his train set. The little tin cabins looked nice along the tracks of his train. Dolly dressed in his Chips gabardine jacket with handkerchief, vest and trousers. Most kids George’s age wore Twigs clothing, but George wasn’t big enough. He was quite small. Boys his age also wore husky size pants. George couldn’t, because he on...

 The scarlet sun of Exodus cast long shadows across the alien prairie. Jeff Clinton and Ferance Corn stopped their hover-bikes outside Maciste Skal’s terrarium. Clinton dismounted the bike marked with the emblem “United Nations of Earth Marshal.” Corn took a little longer since he had a dysfunctional cybernetic leg. The land-rover of Dr. C. Alan Scott arrived a short time later to do the autopsy. “He’s been burned to a crisp,” Clinton said to Ferance. “But the terrarium is still standing. It...

Chapter One "What if they all walk out? What if they boo or shout me down? What if I get sick like I was earlier in the morning?" my mother kept asking me. My mother paced nervously behind the curtain. She had looked out from behind the curtain and saw the large crowd gathered to hear her report. “You’ll do fine,” I said as she took glass of vodka and orange soda from the hospitality room, which she used to chase two Imodium caplets. She was still shaking and sweating. “This is the payoff for...