OUT OF TIME

Inside the burnt-out old shack, Shakey Pete weighed his options. He was outnumbered and outgunned. He could wait ‘em out, but he was already out of food and water. So much for his options.
“Ya might as well come on outta there, Shakey Pete,” called the Sheriff. “We got you surrounded!”

The sun rained down bright hotness from on high and Sheriff Lew
Eccles was running low on patience. He glanced around at his weary and fatigued posse, only one of whom was a full-time deputy. He had to do something to end this and soon. And he didn’t want it to end with a temporarily deputized taxpayer getting shot because he wanted a story to tell his gal when the posse returned to town.

Eccles wiped the sweat from his forehead, shook it off his finger then used it to comb his mustache. He called again to the fugitive within the shack, “I’d think again if you’re thinking of trying to shoot your way out!” He chuckled, “Unless you got a lazer ray gun.” Eccles looked around to make sure that all his deputies were laughing at his superior wit.

Shakey Pete cursed then looked down at his hand. In it lay a lazer ray gun. His options had just spontaneously expanded. He leapt to his feet and thrust the gun through the broken window, taking aim at the Sheriff and his deputized posse.
“Sure looks like a lazer ray gun ta me,” Pete smirked. He began blasting away. To his surprise, neither the Sheriff nor his posse flinched nor fell.


Later that night Pete lay on his bunk staring out through the cell bars at the Sheriff and his deputies sharing a celebratory drink. “Hey Sheriff Eccles,” Pete sat up. “That was a pretty neat trick you pulled out there today. How’d you do it?”

Eccles downed his whiskey. “How do ya mean?” He refilled his tin coffee cup from the bottle.

Pete pondered then said, “How’d y’know it was gonna work?”

The Sheriff leaned back in his chair with a creak, planted his boot heels on the desk, then downed another shot. “Logic. Simple matter of logic.” He refilled his cup as well as that of Deputy King. “We’re living in the year 1879. Lazer ray guns don’t exist in 1879.”

“Then how do you explain what’s there in front of ya?” Pete said pointing at the lazer ray gun sitting on Eccles’ desk.

Eccles lowered his chair and looked Pete in the eye. “To tell the truth, I can’t explain where it came from or how. I’m no scientist. But, hell, it don’t take a scientist to know that an anachronism can’t hurt ya.”

(2004)

BESS (Gypsy Cat 2)

Last night my cat hopped onto my desk, took a seat then proceeded to lean her head between my eyes and the computer screen.
“Bess,” I muttered, “I’m trying to play FreeCell and your lil’ ol’ noggin’s in the way.”
Bess said simply, “I wish to be addressed as El Predatore.”
“Whaa---?” I asked before lapsing into brief confusion. “Say that again.”
“I wish to be addressed as El Predatore,” she repeated as simply as the first time.
“Bess,” I began, but she was not amused. “El Predatore isn’t a real word. ‘El Depredador’ is the Spanish translation for ‘The Predator’. Anyway, El is masculine. La would be feminine.”
Bess stood her ground. “I wish to be addressed as El Predatore,” she glared resolutely.
I leaned back in my chair. “El Predatore”, I sighed. “I’m trying to play FreeCell and your lil’ ol’ noggin is in the way.”
She raised her chin in haughtily triumphant satisfaction then with a turn she hopped off the desk.
That was the first time I heard her exhibit the power of human speech. But not the last. For she spoke again. Later.

(2004)