I must be tired, I used two horrible modifiers in the title. Even when I'm tired, Lorelei the Muse won't leave me alone. She just keeps pushing. This came to me after my wife started watching the first Transformers movie. I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and noticed the cover of her People Magazine.
It's the story I could never finish, or publish. It's just an example of what happens inside my tired brain. This is what you get when you take fatigue, add a science fiction adventure movie, an old photograph, and water.
I awoke to a low throbbing base sound, and crossed the bedroom to look out the window. It came from the barn out back.
A million stars lit the nighttime sky. Everything looked pretty peaceful. I dropped my old felt hat on my head, then plunked a pair of buckshot rounds into my shotgun before stepping outside.
The barn expanded and contracted in time with the noise. It was as if the barn was breathing, like some kind of wounded animal.
The sound of helicopters overshadowed the noise from the barn. I crossed the yard to find out what was happening.
The trio of helicopters whooshed overhead, and I had to hold my hat down as they started landing in my pasture.
A motorcycle sped down the road toward me. It slid sideways and stopped feet from where I was standing. The rider's platinum blonde ponytail swung forward as she skidded. She wore skin tight black leather from head to toe, with a black leather jacket over the top.
This woman was gorgeous. She stepped across the bike, and walked up to me. “Stand down, Sir.” Reaching inside her jacket, she flashed an I.D. card. “JonBenet Ramsey, Special Operations. We'll take it from here.”
It's not socially acceptable. I get that. It's just that my brain rarely ever stops. I suppose having thoughts like this isn't horrible in itself. It certainly isn't as bad as People Magazine plastering her image on their magazine to move copies.
I'm just talking about her. I'm not trying to sell something based upon her. What if she lived, but was taken away? Maybe this is my denial that someone would harm a little kid, but such things really happen.
I checked. She'd be twenty-six now if she had lived. It doesn't seem that long ago.