|
Letters From the Editor Oct 31, 2005 As the sun sets over the black mountains tonight, doors will swing open spewing forth Goblins, Witches, ghosts, and assorted monsters! Beware! Tonight is Halloween! I watch from my window overlooking the dark dank streets and shiver in fear as the evil ones slither and ooze their way across the potholed asphalt, and am somehow pulled back, back, back to the time of Spinax. Tonight's Goblins and Gores have nothing on the Snipes, Torpedomen and Stewards of yore. For who can envision a scarier sight than Giant Bubba and the Goat crouching in the oily mist of the engine rooms, covered with whiskers and oil drenched clothing, smoke from dangling cigarettes fogging their hairy faces, and bleary red eyes peering through like stoplights on a foggy night. What nameless fear drove non-quals to pass through this hot, thundering nightmare? What courage they must have to stealthily sneak, sneak, sneak, becoming a shadow with the shadows lest the dreaded black hand descend upon them leaving it's mark in claw tipped blackness. Then, If perchance they magically transported themselves through, then they must endure the dreaded "Mess Hall."
|
Here lie Trolls in flowery shorts. Here lie Gnomes in raggedy clothes. Here lie Giants cooking in pots, bubbling and brewing their viscous brew, while enduring the heckling and spewing of nasties, with wide open beaks like motherless birds. Forward we go to the worst room of all, with air valves a whistling and trim tanks a spewing in this smoky red hell. A quick look around shows vague forms hulking, whiskery bulks with cigarettes dangling, and slick faced demons watching o'er the beasties with pulleys, valves and planes But through all this it could be felt, the force of power from the dark hole above. For here is the heart of the darkness we fear, for crouched up in a hideous web its bulbous body lying tense, clinging to the webs that run through the tunnels, hunches the most hideous creature of them all. You stand in fear, you cannot breathe, for fear the monster may sense you there. Your hair stands rigid, your skin is damp, too scared to run to scared to dance. Then the monster stirs, the hull vibrates. and you know that yes, you are doomed. Doomed by the force that controls all. Doomed by the one. Doomed by the master of all that is dark and scary. ...and the voice resonates from the hole.... "How about a black and bitter to the conn?" Ooooo, scary! Pecos
|
|||
|
|
Might be good to start listing changes of address, phone numbers and emails here, so If anyone has a change let me know ralarsen@comcast.net New email address for Tom Shipman: teshipman@earthlink.netNew info for Sam Petty: 421 Cathance Rd. Topsham, ME 04086 macpuppy@suscom-maine.net New phone number for
"Zeke" Bennett: |
||||
Links:
|
|
Final
Patrol:
