Hope you are all keeping well.
All the best
Rob Kingston
weekend
escapades…
the
bamboo chimes alone
in the garden
since dawn the same branch telling me to get up
moonlit
dawn
a
flurry of jackdaws
over
the ridge
Copyright Robert Kingston
The Moon Belt (2nd & Last)
By Len Morgan
 |
They returned to the 29th Precinct, booked both perps, and took the evidence and perps to the lockup.
“We could be in for a hard time if they call a brief, where’s our proof Sarge?” Cheu asked.
Mell held up Two Trump masks, and Sherry held up the belt over her shoulder.
“This is a really weird device Sarge, almost out of this world…”
“What, a crappy leather belt? Bet there are dozens just like it on ebay,” Cheu snorted.
“Can they do this Sarge?” she turned the half-moon on it, but nothing happened.
“Get it booked in as evidence, and get it and the masks checked for prints.” He shook his head; it’s gonna be one of those days…
“Let’s get them to interrogation,” said Mell “you can take the man Proby.”
.-…-.
“Name?” the man didn’t
reply. “Where did you stash the loot?” ~ no reply. “Who are the other two and where are they?” ~
Silence.
“You do know they will be away with the loot, They’ll fence it, and be off, leaving you to carry the can, They’ll cut you out…”
“This one’s not speaking
sarge, not even to lawyer up.”
“Don’t feel so bad Reed. Mell didn’t fare any better with the dame… Take em back to the cells, and keep them separated. We will get to the bottom of this!”
The phone rang. Sarge I have the manager of the store, he wants to speak to you.”
“Mr Zaglioni? Sergeant Covax here, yes… yes… but that’s crazy, why would they plan and carry out a heist, and leave with nothing? Is this a prank? Don’t reopen the store yet, I’m sending two investigators to take your statement…”
“Another call on line three Sarge, they’ve found the car, with the guns in the boot…”
“Covax here… What? Bring em in…”
“What gives Sarge?” Amellio asked.
“Listen up everyone! It seems they were firing blanks, the store has done an inventory for insurance purposes and nothing is missing…”
“That’s ‘Looney Tunes’ Sarge, what was it all for, a publicity stunt?”
“Officer Reed, you and Mell go back to the store and do what your good at; investigate.”
.-…-.
“Mr Zaglioni, we’d like to take another look around before you reopen, it’s not every day we attend a non~heist!”
“Are all your staff here?” Mell asked.
“Yes officer, the thieves made a terrible mess, but when we did our check none of our stock was missing…”
“Is that door behind the counter locked?” Sherry asked.
“Yes, except when we accompany clients to their lockboxes or we need to go to the safe.”
“It isn’t locked now,” Mell noted. “Who are the key holders?”
“That would be me, and my deputy Miss Hanson, and of course the security officer.”
“What’s in there?”
“Safety deposit boxes and our day safe, but we have a state of the art security system. None of the boxes or our safe could be opened without the alarm going off and the security firm being alerted.”
Sherry looked up at the ceiling “Mm no bullet holes and the scene of crime photos didn’t include that. Have you opened any of the boxes, or the safe sir, to confirm they were not accessed?”
“The boxes require two keys, mine and the one held by the leaser of the box. Miss Hanson and I both have a key to the safe, and the combination code which is changed monthly, in fact it was changed three days ago.”
“Would you open it in our presence please sir?”
“Certainly officer,” he took out a bunch of keys and selected one…
“Show me the key,” said Sherry. She examined it and returned it. Miss Hanson, your keys please?” She examined them and showed them to Mell who nodded. “Have you recently had a copy cut?”
She looked surprised, “No?”
Mell gave her a look of disbelief… “Do you have a partner?”
“Yes?”
“A live in partner?”
“Yes.”
“Name of?”
“Lance Frobishire, he’s a nice guy, we’ve been going out for about two months.”
“Would you unlock the safe please. Not you Miss Hanson.”
Zaglioni opened the safe, it was empty! Both their faces turned white…
Zaglioni fell to the ground and lay still. Sherry checked his pulse, then started compressions, “call an ambulance Mell, he’s having a heart attack. She continued compressions until the emergency services arrived and hooked him up to a defibrillator. On the stretcher, he began to slowly come around.
“What was in there sir?”
“Three million in uncut stones Rubies, Emeralds, Sapphires & Diamonds. Plus a package of low grade, as yet unidentified, stones with a silica like luster, probably worthless, but could be of interest… Our syndicate can’t sustain a loss like this, we are ruined!”
“Whose we sir?”
Zaglioni relapsed into unconsciousness.
She raised her cell phone, “Sarge, Their safe has been cleaned out. It contained $3 mil in uncut stones now it’s empty! We suspect Jane Hanson’s live in partner name of Lance Frobishire. Miss Hanson is coming down to the 2-9, and the store premises have been secured by their own security firm. We have the keys to Hanson’s apartment; So, we are on our way there. I’m sending you the address, we may need assistance.”
.-…-.
Mell rapped on the door “Police; Open up!” There was a faint scuffle from within. He rapped again, harder.
Sherry took up station at the rear door, it opened and a shadowy figure emerged. Sherry inverted the half-moon on the belt she was still wearing, and the man materialized. She drew her sidearm, “Lance Frobishire. We have Jane Hanson in custody, don’t move.”
He gazed at her, a look of disbelief on his face. He bent down, picked up a rock and threw it at her. She discharged her weapon, as she easily dodged his missile, both the rock and her bullet seemed to be moving in slo-mo. She ran at him and forced him to the ground. He fell heavily under their combined weight. She cuffed him, turned him over and reversed the half-moon stud on his belt then her own, just as Mell rounded the corner.
“I heard a shot, did you…”
“He’s alive just winded.”
“let’s get him back to the 2-9.”
She unhooked his moon belt and slung it over her shoulder, like a bandolier. “Up you get Frobishire,” they led him to their patrol car and secured him in the rear. They heard the siren from another unit, it stopped and an officer jumped out.
“What kept yuh!” said Mell, “We got the perp in custody, you guys check out the premises. Keys…” He held his hand out to Frobishire, who threw his keys to Sherry.
She caught them in one hand, gave them a cursory look. Two newly cut keys plus an older but similar one caught her eye. She removed the three from the ring and showed them to Mell, “These look familiar.”
“That looks like a safe key, and at a guess, I’d say those are deposit box keys.”
Sherry nodded and took a pic of Lance on her cell phone. “I’ll show this to Zaglioni, I’ll bet he’s a recent procurer of a safety deposit box.”
“Let’s get this one into custody first.” Mell handed the keys, ‘minus the three’, to the patrol officer. “Get forensics’ to check the place over officer.” They left the scene at speed…
.-…-.
They handed over their prisoner at the precinct. Booked the moon belt in as evidence; Sherry retained hers (it could prove useful she reasoned, though strictly against protocol), breaking the chain of custody. ‘But, there are three already in the custody room,’ she reasoned.
.-…-.
“Do you recognise this man Mr Zaglioni?”
“No!”
“Are you sure? Take a closer look…”
He shook his head, “but you said you have keys? Let me see them. Get me discharged from this hospital at once and take me to my store.”
.-…-.
They accompanied Zaglioni back to his premises. They tried the larger key in the safe, and it opened. They compared the other two keys with Zaglioni’s key, one was a match.
The third key had an inscription around its rim, “This is one of ours; a client key.”
“Can you identify the client for us?”
He unlocked his drawer and took out a journal, “It would be recent you say?” He thumbed the pages and ran his finger down the entries, after the fourth page he look up. I’ve gone back two years, but nothing matches.”
“What about keys not yet issued?”
“Excellent idea,” he went
to a deposit box, put his key in, beside an existing key. Turning both at once opened the box. Inside was an array of keys and empty
hooks. “Ah!” He returned to his journal,
“You’re key should open
“193; can we open it?”
“Yes, my dear.” Sherry & Mell stood on either side of him as he put the keys into the keyholes. He opened it, and began to cry! “I’ll have to check the inventory but I think all the packets are here…
.-…-.
Back at the precinct, they asked sergeant Covax if they could interrogate Miss Hanson. She’d been housed in a waiting area but when they went to find her she was gone.
“She wasn’t under guard sarge?”
“She was helping us with our inquiries and was not considered to be a suspect.”
“That may have been a miscalculation,” said Sherry.
The desk phone wrung and an alarm sounded then all hell broke loose.
“What’s happening!” Covax yelled down the phone.
“The custody area has been breached and certain items of evidence have been removed.”
“What’s missing?”
“The three belts brought in earlier today.”
“There’s going to be an attempt to break the prisoners out of the cells,” Sherry headed for the door with Mell close behind her.
As she entered, a shadow moved beside one of the cells. The custody officer was down and his keys were missing. The keys appeared dangling from an open cell door. The cell occupant was in the act of fastening a moon belt around his waist. Sherry slammed the door shut and locked it.
“They are secure, in a while Hanson will appear in that cell,” she said.
“Hand over the belts Miss Hanson, you can’t get away. The missing stones have been located they never left your employer's premises.”
“How do you know all this Reed,” said Covax.
She opened her coat revealing her Moon belt. “I’ll demonstrate how it works she said turning the stud, (She disappeared), she returned the half-moon stud to its original state and reappeared by the door twenty yards away.
“That’s a helluva trick,” said Mell.
“It’s a hell-of-a device! Frobishire is the key, let’s get him to interrogation.”
Tonni entered the Holding area, “Sarge two FBI agents want to speak with you in private…”
Two men in slick black suits entered. “Thank you for your assistance in apprehending this gang, they are now under our protection.”
“What?” Covax exploded, “They carried out a raid, took $3 million in uncut stones, and you want them to get away scot-free? Not on my watch!”
A police Captain entered, “afraid they can Sergeant, apparently it’s a matter of National Security. And, since the stones never left the premises, their bullets were blanks; it seems that no crime has been committed.
“What about the criminal damage charge?”
“The FBI will foot the bill for all damages.”
“Wasting police time & resources?”
“Think of it as a training exercise, sergeant.”
I understand your distaste, it rankles with me also but they have documents from the highest authority to back them up.”
“Turn off your belts,” said Sherry. The four perps appeared and a squad of FBI agents came in and marched them away.
“Is that it? Don’t we get an explanation?”
“Apparently not Sergeant Covax. This incident is covered by the official secrets act. Nobody here can ever talk about this, a loose mouth could get you an indeterminate prison sentence.”
“Thank you Captain,” said Covax, will we receive some sort of explanation for closure?”
“Apparently, they wanted a packet of rare iridescent stones for a top-secret project. Personally, I think they could simply have asked to purchase the stones but the FBI knows best…"
“Sherry rested her hand over her moon belt, ‘could prove useful’
she thought.
Copyright
Len Morgan
by Richard Banks
As he nervously walked up the Pearly Way Harry reflected with quiet satisfaction on the final scene of his life. It had been a traditional, old fashion death, well attended by his nearest and dearest. He had gone out in style, consoling his wife and exhorting her to marry again should the opportunity arise. As she was nearly seventy-six he hardly expected that it would but Harry felt the occasion demanded a magnanimous gesture. He lectured his children telling them to live good lives, and forgave his sister and brother-in-law for misdemeanours committed so long ago he was at a loss to remember what they were. With his last words, he commended his soul to ‘his Maker’ and then, by some inexplicable process, found himself ascending this strange spiral stairway in his pyjamas.
It had been a long climb and Harry was beginning to despair of ever reaching the top when yet another loop in the stairway brought him abruptly onto a small, gloomy landing within four grey walls of unadorned concrete. A light bulb hung limply from the ceiling dimly illuminating two adjacent doors and an overflowing dustbin.
Harry took a deep intake of breath. He had never been very fortunate with doors. He remembered, with acute embarrassment, the occasion when he had inadvertently walked into the ladies loo at Geneva airport and been repulsed by a large German woman brandishing an umbrella. On that occasion there had been a sign that should have guided him, but now he was confronted by two almost identical doors. If he were dead, he thought, and that seemed a reasonable assumption, these might, perhaps, be the portals to heaven and hell. They seemed inauspicious portals but the thought carried just enough conviction to make Harry consider his next move very carefully. He sensed that once he opened one of the doors there would be no going back, that he would be drawn inexorably into whatever lay beyond. He remembered a medieval painting he had once seen in which tormented souls were being thrown into a fiery furnace by ape-like creatures wielding tripods; this was definitely something to be avoided.
He crept forward towards the left hand door half expecting it to fly open and for someone or thing to rush out at him. Dropping down onto both knees he peered short-sightedly into the narrow gap between door and floor. The impenetrable darkness behind the door was unbroken by demonic bonfires or celestial light. He listened for the singing of hymns or the cry of tormented souls but heard nothing but his own heavy breathing. Crawling across to the other door he made the same observations with the same outcome. For several minutes he remained on all fours, deep in thought and only vaguely aware of the numbing effect of the cold floor on stiff limbs. He struggled to his feet only to find that one of them was now devoid of sensation and unable to support his weight. He tottered drunkenly and with a great flapping of arms fell heavily against the right-hand door which flew open with a resounding bang. To his horror there was a startled exclamation from within and, after the briefest of pauses, the sound of approaching footsteps. A neon light flickered on and Harry found himself staring at two stockinged feet in a pair of open-toed sandals. A bespectacled face peered down at him with unconcealed suspicion.
“Can I help you?” she demanded in a tone of voice that suggested she would rather not.
He sheepishly struggled to his feet. To his surprise the thin, sharp-featured woman of middle years who had towered over him was no taller than himself. While this was reassuring, her appearance, he decided, was less than angelic; he began to fear he might be in ‘the other place’ or at least in a place not much to his liking. “I’m not sure where I am,” he stammered.
“Well, where are you wanting to go?”
“I’m not altogether clear,” said Harry, the last thing he expected was to be offered a choice. “You see, I’ve only just arrived.”
“Oh, so you’re a new entrant then. Why didn’t you say?” Her expression melted to the approximation of a smile. “You had better come in. Take a seat over there;” she pointed to a wooden bench that reminded Harry of a church pew – his hopes were beginning to rise.
“There’s just a few formalities to take care of. First of all I need to see your AR1.”
“My AR1?” he repeated.
“Yes, your AR1,” she insisted. “Didn’t they give you one at reception?”
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. He recalled passing an unoccupied desk on a landing someway below; perhaps he should have waited, but then patience had never been one of his virtues.
“It’s the pink form,” the woman persisted, “the one headed ‘Application for Residence’. Surely you have one?”
There was no need for words, the look on Harry’s face clearly indicating that the first link in the paper chain of post-life bureaucracy had been found wanting.
The woman frowned heavily. “Most irregular,” she muttered, “I suppose you are on the list? What’s your name? Mr?”
“Oldcastle, Harry Oldcastle,” replied Harry, grateful at last to be asked a question to which he knew the answer.
The woman disappeared into an adjoining room and re-emerged a few moments later with a clipboard to which was attached a list of some twenty names. With evident relief she discovered Harry’s name towards the bottom of the sheet. “Oh yes, here you are. According to this you should have been with us this morning. Your wife has been in the Reunion Room nearly all day.”
“My wife?” repeated Harry, “is she here too?
“Yes, of course. Doris has been with us for nearly four years. She’s really looking forward to seeing you again.”
“But my wife’s name is Laura,” protested Harry
The woman’s expression changed to one of alarm. “You are Henry Oldcastle of Rochester Way, Bexley…. Aren’t you?”
“No,” said Harry, “I live in Southend, at least I did until this afternoon.”
“Oh no!” she groaned through fingers that had suddenly enveloped her mouth and nose. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m afraid there’s been...how can I put it… an administrative error.”
There was an uneasy silence. “What
happens now?” asked Harry.
“You will have to go back.”
“Isn’t that going to be a little difficult?”
“Difficult yes, impossible no,” said the woman firmly. “Remember Lazarus?”
*****
Harry opened both eyes and was immediately dazzled by a bright light from above. For a moment he wondered whether he had made it into Heaven; then he remembered the woman’s last words. He blinked several times dazzled by the translucent glow of the glass lampshade above the double bed on which he lay. At the same time he became aware of several conversations taking place about him. Through half open eyes he noted that most of the people who had been present at his ‘passing’ were still there. He wondered how they would react to his ‘passing back’. It was bound to be a shock, he thought. He considered how best to break the news. After a few minutes reflection he decided to make some small movement or sound that would allow someone to discover that he was not as dead as they thought he was. Then, as they hurried to his side seeking further signs of life, he would slowly ‘come to’ smiling benignly at their anxious faces and expressing his astonishment at his strange lapse into unbreathing inertia. Well, he could hardly tell them what had happened, no one would believe that!
He began by moving an arm slowly across the eiderdown towards the side of the bed. When this wasn’t noticed he affected a palsy-like tremor allowing the hand to drop over the side and swing back and forth like the pendulum of a clock.
The steady hum of conversation continued unabated. He raised his head slightly off the pillow and took stock of the dozen or so persons conversing in several small groups. To his surprise, none of the conversations taking place seemed to be about him. Young Matt was regaling one group with an animated account of Tottenham Hotspur’s last home game, while cousin George was telling an inappropriate joke about a travelling salesman and his involvement with a young woman of inconspicuous virtue. Occasionally the shrill tones of Vicky, Laura’s older sister, could be heard relating the details of her recent operation to the vicar who was looking wistfully towards the door.
Abandoning his previous attempts at subtlety Harry emitted a loud groan just as a collective guffaw greeted the punch line of George’s joke. For a moment he thought they were laughing at him and he indignantly sat up only to realise that they were blissfully unaware of his reanimated presence. It occurred to him that his short excursion into the after-life had rendered him invisible and mute. The thought of being relegated to observer status in some kind of fourth dimension threw him into a sudden panic. “Can nobody hear me!” he bellowed in a voice that was heard halfway down the street. “Can you….?” He stopped in mid-sentence as twelve horrified faces stared back at him in disbelief.
A loud thud greeted Vicky’s sudden descent onto the floor. Almost immediately she was trampled underfoot by Matt whose attempt to flee the room coincided with Laura’s coming in with a tray of teas. The tray flew upwards almost hitting the ceiling before a mixture of broken crockery and hot tea ricocheted, like shrapnel, onto the heads of those below. Vicky leapt back to her feet with remarkable agility for someone of her age and cannoned into George who, for reasons he is still unable to explain, aimed a punch at the vicar who staggered back against the light switch plunging the room into darkness.
At this point, Harry reached the unlikely conclusion that his intervention in the melee was needed to restore order. Attempting to step out of bed his feet became entangled in the sheets and he too collapsed, head first onto the floor. Someone screamed, “he’s coming!” and there was a panic-stricken rush to exit the room. Pursuing them down the stairs he arrived at the front door just in time to see Vicky abandon her Zimmer frame for the back seat of Matt’s motor bike.
“Come back,” he shouted, as the bike
careened wildly down the middle of the road, narrowly missing George. “You
don’t understand, I’m not really dead. It was an administrative error!”
The End
Copyright Richard Banks
The Moon Belt (Part 1 of 2)
By Len Morgan
“Sarge, look at this!”
“What is it, Proby?”
Sherry was just three months out of the police academy; the new girl(a probationer). She gestured urgently so Cheu looked over her shoulder at the tapes of the Jewel Heist that went down the previous evening…
“So what, it’s the heist, we’ve all seen it!” Several colleagues sensed a putdown, so gathered behind him to share in the joke.
“Don’t you see Sarge, there were four of them, not three…”
“Run it from the start Proby.”
They watched as the robbery took place. Three Perps in Trump masks burst in through the main door, with automatic weapons, one fired in the air to get everyone’s attention. They disarmed the security guard, took his keys, and locked the doors.
“Everybody down on the floor, NOW!” The five customers present did as asked.
“Hands on your heads, don’t make no rash moves!”
“He’s the leader,” Mell commented.
“Ya don’t say,” Amellio replied.
They watched the tape from start to finish, “So, what did you see?” Cheu asked.
“Well,” Sherry rewound it two-thirds, and stopped it. “You can see a man's arm and shoulders far right, he rolls over and turns a half-moon stud on his belt upside down,” she advanced the tape one frame at a time… and the man was there then he was gone… “How do you like them apples?” she rewound and played the tape again and again. “One more thing, there’s a door at the rear behind the display counter, it was closed when they entered, now it’s open…
“Tapes been doctored, stans to reason,” Mell said, “she’s pullin your chain Sarge.”
“Mell, shut it! You and what’s your name Proby?”
“Reed sir, Sherry Reed.”
“You and Reed. Check
outside camera’s in the area, I want chapter and verse on their getaway, see if
any cameras got the license plate on that blue
“On it Sarge!”
“Tonni get forensics to re-check that tape.”
.-…-.
They checked on all the nearby stores, no joy. As they returned to their patrol car something caught her eye, a glint of light from a fifth floor window in the tenements opposite.
“We should check out the
apartments in that high-rise Mell, just saw a flash in a fifth floor window,
could be a camera up there.”
They canvassed the facing apartments on the fifth floor. She showed her badge to a woman in 116. There was something about her; she acted furtive as if she couldn’t get rid of them fast enough.
“Can I use your rest room please?” Sherry asked.
The woman hesitated then nodded, “Second left.”
Sherry gazed at the thin-faced young redhead returning her gaze from the medicine cabinet. She would not go far with her ‘plain Jane looks’. She smiled as she recalled her mother's rhyme ‘A little bit of powder, a little bit of paint, makes the girl look exactly what she aint,’ must get me some lippy she thought. Nothing suspicious in the cabinets.
Her Mum had arrived in
As she closed the cabinet Sherry saw the reflection of a heavy belt hanging on a hook behind the door. It had the metallic half-moon adornment on it, she recognised immediately. It was heavy so she fastened it around her waist as evidence; easier to carry she thought. She came out of the rest room, and gave Mell a warning nod.
“Is there anybody else on the premises,” Mell asked, pointing to the door of a second room; “bedroom?”
“No! Don’t go in there,” the woman became alarmed.
Mell drew his gun, “Don’t move!”
Sherry opened the door, and lying on the bed fully clothed was the disappearing suit, still wearing the twin of the belt she was wearing; ’two’ she thought. His hand went to the belt; she thought he had a gun, so she grabbed him.
“Get off me bitch!” she clung on; she saw Mell and the woman now still like statues.
The man struggled hard and wrestled himself free, but she had already cuffed him. His struggles were incredibly fast, he looked like a shadow. She knew he couldn’t get away, but he hit her with a heavy blow that sent her to her knees. She pulled out her stick and struck at where he appeared to be suddenly he reappeared, clutching at his leg. She struck him again, hard, and he lay still. She removed his belt and turned the half-moon tag to upright and clipped it around her shoulder…
Mell and the woman were now moving at normal speed, “Cuff her Mell! They took part in the robbery.”
“How do you know,” he
said.
“Call it in Mell!”
(To be continued)
Copyright Len Morgan
Billy’s extra Christmas Beer
By Sis
Unsworth
Billy was a happy soul, so full of Christmas cheer,
he came back from his local, where he’d had an extra beer.
He slowly found his door key, and turned it in the lock,
when he entered his front room, what he saw gave him a shock.
a vision from a fairytale, right before his eyes,
sat Santa Clause in his armchair! It was a great surprise.
Then Santa started talking, and asked him ‘where he’d been?’
He wasn’t going to answer, which did seem rather mean.
“I’ve been down to my local,” Billy then did say,
“I don’t suppose you know it, as you live so far away."
“I do come back quite often,” said Santa quite sincere,
“In fact my job description, brings me back here every year.”
“Why have you come to my house, is what I’d like to know?”
“I’ve come so I can help you,” he answered soft and low.
“I heard that you’re unhappy, at this time of year,
and it is a time for happiness, and jolly Christmas cheer
Celebrating Christmas, you don’t do that for sure.”
Billy laughed, “why that’s not me, you want old Fred next door.”
Santa looked embarrassed, and apologised to Billy
He felt sorry for old Santa, as he did look rather silly.
But one thing he’d learned today, though full of Christmas cheer,
When he goes down to the pub again, he'll avoid that extra beer!
Copyright Sis Unsworth
Two Haiku
From Robert Kingston
(Published this month, in ‘Blythe Spirit’)
pulling
the oars
from
another cloud
feeling
the chill
around my
stomach
horizon
moon
Copyright
Robert Kingston
RATS
By Len Morgan
The rats like grey
squirrels go to incredible lengths to steal from our bird table. I allow them just enough to feed their
family. So, the clang of the pellet on
steel sees them off for a few days maybe a week.
Like it or not every
living thing is here for a reason filling a niche in the ecosystem. For now, the world continues to exist, but
not every creature, insect, or microbe can be held accountable for the current
plight of the world. Only Homo Sapiens
are contributing positively to its demise, and though we can’t say conclusively
that we are wholly responsible; it’s likely that if we had never existed global
warming would still be happening.
The world began with an
atmosphere that we couldn’t breathe constant eruptions and constant bombardment
by meteors, for billions of years. Not
all meteors were bad news. Many brought
water, yet still, there was no life on earth…
But this is not meant to be a lecture about the past 5.5 billion
years. There have been umpteen
extinction events, and ice ages, none of which happened in living memory so we
assume change doesn’t happen. Yet 99.9%
of species that lived on earth have become extinct. Not our fault!
I do believe we may also
die out by plague, wars, pestilence, crass stupidity, earthquakes, meteor
strikes so many possible endings…
Who or what will then inherit
the earth I wonder? My money is on
communal creatures like mice, rats, squirrels, and baboons all resourceful survivors. However, I do have a soft spot for the
Meerkats ~ a safe bet since nobody will be around to collect… Rats are possibly
the most numerous, so just in case, I’ll continue hedging my bets by just scaring them off.
Copyright
Len Morgan
