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Just then they was two troop carriers an' a bus
came drivin' inta tha parkin' lot, comin' outa tha gravel lane that went
off ta tha southeast. I swear ta God. No markin's but troop
carriers fer sure. About 20 men piled out, wearin' camo an' armed
ta tha teeth. No insignia but they acted like soldiers. Two
more of 'em got outa tha bus. They acted like officers. Tha
bus had bars on tha windows.
A whole bunch o' people got outa tha bus an' tha soldiers started herdin' 'em toward tha house, pokin' 'em with their gun barrels if they didn't git along quick enough. Tha people that got outa tha bus was jus plain ol' people. Musta been more 'an 60 of 'em. Men, women, and kids. Some had luggage. One o' tha kids had a teddy bear. They was 'bout a half dozen that was wearin' some kinda uniforms. One of 'em was carryin' a bag an' when they walked past tha window I saw it said American Airlines. A few of 'em'd been beaten, especially one o' tha men in tha uniforms. He could barely walk. They was all terrified. Some o' tha women 'ad been cryin'. I decided tha uniforms was airline uniforms. Pilots and stewardesses. Tha soldiers herded 'em outa sight around tha end o' tha house. Bill an' Bob went with 'em. I didn't know what was goin' on but I didn't want no part of it. I started lookin' around fer some way ta git out. With them Rottweilers in tha kitchen, I knew it wouldn't be that way. I found a sledge hammer in all tha junk, pulled tha workbench outa tha way, an' started breakin' tha cinder blocks from under tha end window. Ya might doubt it but panic can give ya tha strength o' ten. I broke all o' tha blocks in tha row under tha window an' at tha ends of it. Them dogs was raisin' hell in tha kitchen but they couldn't get through tha door an' nobody heard 'em so I just smashed tha blocks 'til I couldn't swing tha hammer no more. Then I found me a crow bar an' started to pry tha window loose but my arms was so tired I couldn't hardly move 'em an' then I decided I didn't want nobody outside ta notice a missin' window nohow, so I stopped. I was plumb tuckered, ma arms was tremblin', an' I was breathin' hard but when I stopped yankin' at tha window with ma crow bar I started to think an' had a second look around. Tha propane furnace at tha other end o' tha cellar gave me a idea. I'd fixed some bullies onest with propane when I was a kid and maybe I could do it again. Damn good luck for me they put me where they did. Tha place was a gold mine o' old junk. I found a hack saw, turned off tha propane valves fer tha furnace an' tha water heater, and sawed off tha pipes. The overhead light hung by a lectric cord that was stapled ta tha beams so I found a hammer an' pulled loose a couple o' staples so tha light hung most o' tha way ta the floor. Then I tapped on the bulb real gentle with tha claws of the hammer 'til tha glass broke. Lucky fer me I didn't break tha filament. I hoped when somebody turned on tha light tha filament would burn real hot fer a few seconds. If they was tha right amount o' propane, it might work. I left it hangin' an' went back ta tha window ta see what was happenin'. I guess by then them soldiers was done 'cause they came back from wherever they'd went an' got inta their troop carriers. Tha two that acted like officers got inta tha bus. They all drove away. I waited a coupla minutes but Bob and Bill didn't show up right away so I got my crow bar an' pulled in tha window. I left it hangin' by its flanges on one end. Then, I went over an' turned on both propane valves an' came back an' crawled outa tha window. I pulled it back inta place, good as I could. Nobody'd notice 'less they was lookin' fer it. I walked 'round tha end o' tha house tha way that everbody else'd gone. Behind tha house they was a cinder block buildin' with a steel door on tha end facin' me, mostly closed but not quite. Just outside o' tha door was a pile o' stuff, clothes, purses, small luggage, an' a teddy bear. I heard noises inside so I went as quiet as I could 'round tha back o' tha buildin'. On tha far end they was a chimney an' some o' tha most bad smellin' smoke I ever smelled. Like ta of made me gag. I squatted down with my back against tha wall, tryin' ta breathe, an' it saved my life 'cause I was down behind some bushes that was growin' there when Bill an' Bob came outa tha buildin'. I didn't For PayPal payments, use editor@frontiersman.my3website.net. Back issues are available at http://frontiersman.my3website.net/. Also see Pharos at http://pharos.my3website.net.
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see 'em but I heard 'em standin' there talkin'
'bout what they was plannin' fer me. What they was sayin' made me
keep real quiet 'til they was gone. I was shakin' from bein' tired,
from tha smell o' tha smoke, an from bein' scared but when they went back
'round tha end o' tha house I got up an' slipped 'round tha corner o' tha
cinder block buildin' an' looked in tha door. Them people from tha
bus was all dead, shot. Musta been a hell of a scene when them soldiers
done it. Musta been tha soldiers. Couldn't o' been nobody else.
They ain't no words for it. That wasn't tha worst. Tha way
that some o' them dead women was layin' made me try not ta think what Bill
an' Bob 'ad been doin' to 'em after tha soldiers 'ad left but I guess it
kept 'em busy while I got outa tha cellar an' behind tha cinder block buildin'.
I spose them women couldn't o' been hurt no more nohow but it still gave
me tha worst feelin' yet. I didn't even feel real no more.
Sometimes, ya kin see a lot more in one quick look than ya ever wanna remember an' I jus' took one look through tha door an' turned an' ran as hard as I could. That saved my life again. I ran straight out from tha place, didn't even know where I was goin', over a hill, down a slope, an' stumbled an' fell inta a gully. Just as I hit tha bottom, they was a big boom an pieces o' house started ta fall all 'round me. I guess tha light bulb worked. I didn't even notice, right then. I just laid there an' cried. After a few minutes, I got up, climbed outa tha gully, an' went back fer a look at tha house. They wasn't much left o' tha place 'cept a cellar-shaped hole in tha ground. The near wall o' the cinder block buildin' had got blowed over by tha blast an' fell in an' covered most o' tha dead people. At tha far end o' tha cinder block buildin' they was a little room with a iron rack, a big propane burner, an' what was left o' some people. They was mostly burned but tha blast had blowed out tha fire. I didn't see no trace o' Bill, Bob, or them Rottweilers. I dug ma stuff outa what was left o' tha pickup truck an' walked away. When I got back ta town, a few days later, an heard 'bout them airplanes that was hijacked in New York an' tha Pentagon, it all made some kinda sense. Don't you believe nothin' tha gov'ment says 'bout what happened on 911 six years ago. It's all a pack o' lies. None o' them hijacked planes never hit no buildin's. They was all landed safe somewhere an' everbody on 'em was murdered an' burned. Tha folks that I saw was one bunch of 'em. They was all people from one o' them planes that got hijacked. I reckon them soldiers went back later an' finished burnin' 'em, when they found out tha place had got blowed up. I've thought about it a lot since then an' I think that they's some kinda secret gov'ment base hid out there in them woods. I don't know what goes on there but ain't none of it good or why would they hide it from us in a wilderness? Bill an' Bob wasn't part of it 'cause they wasn't soldiers. They was too careless ta be soldiers, but they worked fer 'em. They all picked a damned good place ta put their house fer murderin' people an' burnin' 'em, tha River of No Return Wilderness. Whenever I get a chance, I hike back in there. Try ta disguise myself a little differnt ever time, just in case, but I ain't never seen tha same guys twice. Anyway, they's some damned scary people in there, armed ta tha teeth an' wearin' camo, just like tha ones on them troop carriers. Fer a long time, whenever I got too close to their base, they chased me out. I kept smilin', actin' stupid, sayin' yes sir, sorry sir, won't happen again sir, an' goin' back again tha next chance I got. Ever time, I marked it on my map. Now, I got a boundary. I know where they stop people so I know where they are, close enough. Over tha last six years, I got a lot better at it than I usta be. Nowadays, when I go in they don't see me 'less I show myself an' I got ma route all planned, jus' outside o' where they stop people. It's a forest, right? I like tha woods as good as tha next guy but tha next long dry spell that happens, when tha wind is right, me an' a big ol' box o' kitchen matches is gonna send some o' them bastards back ta visit Bill an' Bob. Tha ones that git away won't have no forest left ta hide their nasty doins' in no more. For PayPal payments, use editor@frontiersman.my3website.net. Back issues are available at http://frontiersman.my3website.net/. Also see Pharos at http://pharos.my3website.net.
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Acknowledgments My thanks to the following: Sir James the Bold; SantaClara Bob; Lady Jan the Voluptuous; Lord Jeffrey the Studious; my mother; Sir Donald the Elusive; and Larry, of Russellville, Arkansas. — editor
Changing Times Original Source Unknown. Forwarded by Steve, of Fremont, California. Scenario: Pedro fails high school English. 1956: Pedro goes to summer school, passes English, and goes to college. 2006: Pedro's cause is taken up by the state Democratic Party. Newspaper articles appear explaining that an English requirement for graduation is a racist policy. The ACLU files a class action lawsuit against the state school system and Pedro's English teacher. English is banned from the core curriculum. Pedro is given a diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he can't speak English. Frontiersman Cancellations — If you don't want to keep receiving this newsletter, then print REFUSED, RETURN TO SENDER above your name and address and return the newsletter. When I receive it, I'll terminate your subscription. You can also cancel by letter, e-mail, carrier pigeon, or any other method that gets the message to me. Back Issues — Back issues or extra copies of this newsletter are available upon request. Reprint Policy — Permission is hereby granted to reproduce this newsletter in its entirety or to reproduce material from it, provided that the reproduction is accurate and that proper credit is given. Please note that I do not have the authority to give permission to reprint material that I have reprinted from other sources. For that permission, you must go to the original source. I would appreciate receiving a courtesy copy of any document or publication in which you reprint my material. Submissions — I solicit letters, articles, and cartoons for the newsletter, but I don't pay for them. Short items are more likely to be printed. I suggest that letters and articles be shorter than 500 words but that's flexible depending on space available and the content of the piece. I give credit for all items printed unless the author specifies otherwise. Payment — This newsletter isn't for sale. If you care to make a voluntary contribution, then I prefer cash or U.S. postage stamps. For checks or money orders please inquire. For PayPal payments, use editor@frontiersman.my3website.net. I don't accept anything that requires me to provide ID to receive it. In case anybody's curious, I also accept gold, silver, platinum, etc. The continued existence of the newsletter will depend, in part, on such contributions. — Sam Aurelius Milam III, editor
For PayPal payments, use editor@frontiersman.my3website.net. Back issues are available at http://frontiersman.my3website.net/. Also see Pharos at http://pharos.my3website.net.
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