Execution of the Former Dictator

On the orders of the acting president, and by tacit consent of the known powers, the execution of the former dictator took place without public announcement.

In the film released after the event the former dictator is shown approaching the scaffold in his coat; his executors, in a curious act of humanity beside the act of inhumanity, having feared that he might catch a cold; the former dictator looks about him in an attitude that can be variously interpreted as bewilderment and fear as well as courage and defiance. In the final act in this macabre show it appears that the former dictator had refused the hood. Before the noose was hung round his neck, the last word the former dictator is supposed to have said is the name – one presumes as curse of his enemy.

As if to lay the full burden of proof before incredulous eyes, the former dictator, now defunct, is exhibited in his body bag.

So turning its blind eye, the World will wake (muses Dieterling) on a New Year that does not augur well, neither for its actor-agents nor its victims.

Dark Gods (8)

To cut a long story short, says Hex extempore, there is a battle in the heavens. - Kind of Supermen v Kryptonites.

Well, not quite, nevertheless - the Gods being jealous deprived us of our wings, and we were thrown down.

And the moral of the story is, sez Hex in a triumphant beam, man is an earth-bound creature, pure and simple.

Horn also in a beam:

You have guessed well, sir.

Though, there is one thing I fail to understand, sir. - What is the connection with the Americas?

If they had the knowledge, it was born away in a box. But therein lies another tale.

That, sir, is too cruel.

Dark Gods (7)

The surgery of the psychic doctor fades into the background.

As the hologram of Hex whizzes back and forth above the eye-line of his colleague, Horn demands rhetorically:

What happens to our ESP flying ancestor? - I don’t suppose it is so difficult to guess.

Must be politics.

Yes, let it not be thought that the Gods were allowed to escape the curse of politics. There were within their ranks a number of factions.

And focus groups!

And no doubt focus groups. -

Broadly speaking, one focus group believes Man should be kept down, put in his place and used as a slave. The other focus group believes Man should be brought up to share in their divinity. -

Dark Gods (6)

I take it, said the psychic doctor, interrupting, you mean flight as metaphor.

No, said Craxman, there was nothing metaphorical about it. Flight to these ancients was quite literally possible. - As was the ability to move and shape objects. To read each other’s thoughts. - And a hundred other abilities that are now doubted or have become enfeebled over time and genetic modification.

Cut in of the hovering holograms:

Hex: What a relief to know he is not a Creationist!

Horn: In principium, a sound man!

Hex: Of the Order Templis Rarum!

Dark Gods (5)

Man – if we can now talk of him as this - was put to work by the Gods. This pleased and gratified them. When they saw he was quick and willing to learn, and able to adapt to all circumstances, they began to bestow on Man certain gifts. - These gifts must not be thought of in any material sense, although they had material application.

Of all the gifts that the Gods bestowed it was the gift of flight that most delighted Man. And who can say he was wrong? - To soar above all creation and behold all the natural wonders of this world from the lofty heights from where his Gods had come.

Dark Gods (4)

Here too the Gods found a species that was in some way like ours. - Except he did not yet have the capacity to speak, or to reason as our species. He was in short nothing more than an animal. - A little Homo Flores, or barely upright Homo erectus. At any rate, the Gods saw too that this species not unlike ours had potential, and was in fact ripe for their purposes. So they gave him the capacity of speech and began to teach him things.

Dark Gods (3)

“… And there were on Old Earth many strange and monstrous creatures that are now extinct, or consigned to the annals of legend, such as the Volaticotherium antiquus or Ancient Gliding Beast, or the Sinohydrosaurus lingyuanensis, or two-headed Aquatic Reptile to name but two.”

Dark Gods (2)

“And the Gods were pleased at what they saw, since the Earth as it was then was rich in resources necessary for the perpetuation of their greater glory.”

The Dark Gods

Realising he would have to find a way to distract the psychic doctor, Craxman shifted on the couch. “I will tell you a story,” he began.

“This story takes place in the remoteness of time. Long before our species came into being, or for that matter was even considered for life as it is known on this planet.

The story involves those Gods who have been forgotten by us, but ruled once in the realms above and live now in the shadows. These “dark” Gods, or Watchers as they are sometimes referred to in esoteric traditions, are often confused, since it is often said that the Watchers were the sons of the Dark Gods, but who are we to say whether they are the one and the same.

On seeing this planet and that it was ripe for their needs, the Dark Gods came one day in their ships. The planet they found was not unlike our planet, but in its prehistoric state. – And while cartographers have left no record of the earlier Earth, various traditions suggest that our planet was at this time more water than land, and the land was amassed into continents at both its north and south poles. Tradition also talks of a pre-catastrophe alignment in its axis. – Of a compass that pointed precisely north, and of a longitude that did not require any corrections to the loadstone.”

American Pie

They showed it
A hundred times maybe
Right on every hour

Like some great black bird
Come to pick at the pie

And they come down
Them stacks of chimneys
They come down
Right on every hour

Those sad fat clerks
Waiting out their fate
Them junk bonders
On the seventy third
Those poor saps
Jumpin’ like mad jimneys
See it all again in photo-montage
The whole thing goes bust
Crowd running up a charge
Of smoke and dust

That’s it I say
Wiped the slate
Wiped it clean

Now they all covered in dust
Lets put it back in the oven
And bake it to a fine crust

Feb-March 2002

71st Floor

There followed a long, pointed silence, as the psychic doctor, who had his back to Craxman, stared out the window of the seventy-first floor under the heady sway of the poem.

Dream Message (2)

What I find remarkable is the fact that she continues to send me these messages.

The Coma Girl?

Yes.

What do you think it means?

So far I have resisted the temptation to consider.

Nevertheless… you are sure the dream means something. – The fact that there was a foetus inside her… It would explain her concern.

Ignoring the observation of the psychic doctor, Craxman went on:

If it has a meaning, she will be the one to interpret.

Altantis Child (3)

After a further – and who knows how tortuous interval, she came upon a man sitting in a box.

Assuming he was part of security, she began to explain the situation.

The security guard had told her everything was under control. Someone was in fact monitoring the situation at that very moment.

Finally, as if to allay her fears, he had said:

They often leave their children behind.

Yet this reassurance of the security guard had not put her fears to rest. – She felt – and would continue to feel concern for the child. Would it she wondered be taken care of?

At this point Craxman broke off; he could remember nothing else of the dream. - Probably because he had woken up. – Disturbed by the noise coming from the street below. - To be precise the pneumatic drill of the Electricity Board.

Atlantis Child (2)

Concerned for the safety of the child, she went looking for a policeman. But as is often the case when you need a policeman she could not find one.

She wandered for what seemed like an age until she came to a gate with an automatic barrier that went up as she came towards it.

She was sure the gate would lead her back into the station. Except it didn’t. - For a while she was lost, and as is often the case in these dream-like realities, she found herself back at the gate.

Atlantis Child

The stranger began to speak his garbled message. He spoke nevertheless with a degree of urgency, whereupon he handed her a plastic bag.

When she looked in the plastic bag, she saw it contained egg boxes. Among the egg boxes which later she realised were there to hold “it” together – as if “it” needed some kind of protection, there was a child. –

On recalling the child, she remembered it was blonde with blue eyes that were smiling up at her.

Though she had grasped little of what the stranger had said, three words stuck in her mind.

From those three words she determined that the child, who was from Atlantis, was called Romania… (Craxman remembered the previous evening that he had been looking at an old atlas so this in itself did not seem so absurd). The third word did not make any sense unless, as she had read somewhere, the lost city of irreconcilable legend was supposed to be in South America.

The Drunk and The Stranger

She was walking, at night, under the pillars of the walkway that brings you up to the station when she heard someone shouting violently and almost unintelligibly. - Nevertheless, she kept walking and descended into the subway. It was there that she saw the drunk involved in the struggle with the stranger.

She thought of him immediately as a stranger on account of his height, and unusual paleness of skin. - Something too about the shrill sound coming from his lips, for it was the stranger who was doing the shouting.

In spite of her apprehension, she continued to approach. - As she did, the stranger seemed to lose all interest in the drunk and came towards her. – The drunk, who up to this point had been quite integral to the scene, faded into the background.

Dream Message

Miss St Clair will tell you that every dream contains a message from “ the spirit world”.

Adele Wallace will go one better and say that the message that often eludes in life will find us again in the dream. The spirits are there as pointers for good or ill.

The dream message comprises archetypes that are common to all (Dieterling).

The dream message comes from our collective consciousness – some Jungian vibe that we have tapped into, and continues to collude with us over time (Longfellow).

As good Semioticians, we must recognise:

If the dream message reflects the contrary yearnings of our souls, it is the whole dream itself that we must take account of.

The dream is both harbinger and bearer of the message.

(see Allbright’s Notes on The Dream Message in Proceedings of Parasite).

Hunted Lunch

Holy shit, Jonathan! That’s weird!

Yeh, fucking weird! - And it makes me paranoid as fuck.

Sharkhunter, you surprise me. Had you down as a toe curling sceptic.

Hoarsome, I am scared shitless. - To think there are such entities as these coming from out of our domain to stalk us for the feed. – As if we were tomorrow’s hunted lunch… Btw, how ‘bout if we anticipate the feed and do brunch?

F. U., Sharkster.

Jonathan’s Sky Entity (2)

Later in the lab:

After closely examining the entity utilizing digital enhancement techniques, the globes can be seen underneath with hints of green and white lights, a possible dome on top which almost completely blends in with the sky and globular energy field where there are color shifts in the pixel spectrum where there are no added colors but a reorganization of existing colors suggesting a mirage effect also seen with the Mexican videos. The shifted field forms a perfect globe around the object exactly touching its outer edge no matter the attitude of the craft.

Sitting back a little from a 600% enlargement on the monitor screen, the field 'net' effect is obvious. The field appears webbed like a fish net formed into a globe and transparent white. Further, there is evidence of a beam of light pointing at a dark round spot also in a clearing on a nearby hill.

Of course it is feeding, but I ask myself what exactly is it feeding on? –

Jonathan’s Sky Entity

Made these notes in the field just after I took the photo:

“Was out trekking in the snow.
Snow always has a curious effect on the eyes.
It must be the singular whiteness… the whiteness that chills. There is no power for differentiation.

Like a mirror reflecting the milky white sky above appears a round or roundish entity. - A kind of bio-form. Globes can be seen underneath. - With orbs of light that do not seem wholly artificial.

I have this queer sensation that the photo of course does not capture on playback… as if there is a field or net around the entity.

Jet packers

Cut in of handlebar moustache with jetpack hovering at the top of a beech tree in city park.

Caption reads: Merv Hughes testing the Nine Eleven.

Jabba, that was an unusually sinister entry. I particularly enjoyed the allusion to the Australian fastman.

I must confess, Jonathan, I am haunted by these numerical coincidences… but it is not just the numerical coincidences. I have an uncanny feeling everything is starting to cohere.

Like what?

Patterns you can’t dig.

Can’t dig, but hell I am trying.

Well, it pains me, ersehole.

Which reminds me of another item for which we all may need our jet packs. – This was posted posthumously by Echobunny in The Sky Monster Review. You will note, from the unusual precision of language it cannot be anything less than the work of a Mensa Mind.

Bloggers in unison:

Jonathan, we would expect nothing less!

Strange Sightings

Talking of The Man With Spring in His Toes, there have been some strange sightings of late.

Don’t tell us more Humanoids over Mexico?

Black Stick Things in East Anglia?

Guys, you are barking right up the wrong tree!

Then it must be GW snorkeling in the Dead Sea…

With his Reptilian buddies!

And they don’t need snorkels, or any other breathing apparatus for that matter.

I did not know GW had any Reptilian buddies, unless you are referring to his neo-Republicans.

Sillies, I am referring to the Jet Packers Twenty First Annual Convention.

Bloggers in unison:

How stupid of us!

Spring-heeled Jack (5)

Did not Martin Mystery investigate him once?

Believe so. Though will have to consult my back collection of Detectives of the Impossible.

Believe you are right, Sharkhunter. It was the one where Martin and his assistant

The Neanderthal?

Believe his name is JABBA. However, could be very much mistaken.

Guys, you are too cruel. – However, unless am very much mistaken, it was the Neanderthal assistant JAVA who saved Martin on that occasion. But they never caught Spring-heeled Jack.

They never do, Jabba. The question is can we count this as a new sighting?

Or indeed are Molly et al reliable witnesses to the act of perversion?

Spring-heeled Jack (4)

Knightrider discussion board:

Well, I cannot say who it is, who it isn’t, but is it really spring-heeled Jack i.e.
Pre-Marvel strip of skies
And vaulted ceilings?

Spring-heeled Jack (3)

Two days later in the Royal Gardens, best friends Emily (Surname Withheld) and Ann Bagley were sunbathing on an unusually hot day for late autumn when they saw the fella in red. He was, said Ann Bagley, remarkably fleet of foot. Emily was so taken aback that she barely had time to utter Bitter jeun! when the red fella grabbed her arm. Ann Bagley was thinking to herself where is Gentleman Jim when you need him?

As it so happened Gardener “Em” Bigham who was pruning the royal roses saw the red fella assaulting the young ladies.

“I ran it off with my rake”, he was quoted as saying but not before he saw it “jump fifty foot in the air”.

Spring-heeled Jack (2)

Against a backdrop of grainy footage of old London town (guys and dolls got up in appropriately sinister Victoriana), the Monkhouse calls from the wings in the voice of R. Barker:

“Yesterday morning, about six o’clock Molly was on her way home from a hard night out of it when she was accosted down the dark of an alley… Sez Molly:

“This fella came up to me, you know, breathing fire, not just of the spiritual kind. He gnashed his teeth, ripped me dress and I’ve got the scratches to prove it.”

Inset of Molly (scratched)

Molly who works at the London Vegas, where the foyer has been got up like the Crown Jewels and everywhere you look there is Diana Spencer memorabilia saw “the fella in red leap fifty foot in the air”

Spring-heeled Jack

The Monkhouse is back on with one of those long almost tedious anecdotes where you don’t quite realise where they are going and will soon get bored were it not for the manic twitching of his ears and exaggerated pacing.


“‘Tis one of those London nights made famous by the Victorian Gothic and lampooned subsequently on the West End stage. The fog is decidedly thick and the air redolent with menace.

Standing at the corner of tube station, a gruff old news vendor eyes suspiciously all passers-by including gentlemen with briefcases and umbrellas. From time to time he takes a break out from his heavy-duty eyeballing to de-cry:

“News Extra! News Extra!
Read All About It!
Spring-heeled Jack is back!”

On cue the Monkhouse cartwheels offset.

Peak Oil (4)

When finally the sound comes back on, the ex-Colonel of Marines is in mid-flow:

“…But we must take into account the social relations of energy, and value-theory. It is not the finite physical limit of oil that matters right now. It matters what is finite in the context of what is economically essential. Does oil have any perfect substitutes? At this conjuncture, the answer is an unequivocal "no." What is the value of oil in terms of embodied “socially-necessary” labour-time? In other words, can the value of oil rise fast enough for the whole economy to be contained? The answer to that is an unequivocal "yes."

Oil has no perfect substitute. Neither solar cell, nor coal, nor plutonium can run trucks or airplanes. There are theoretical substitutes, but not one shows any promise in the near term of even being developed. It is the lifeblood of the entire global capitalist system, and has been for 100 years. If oil prices go beyond a very operational price of no return, so to speak, the economy will most certainly be contained, very likely to the point of collapse. Imagine the consequences today, for example, if oil prices jumped a mere 50 percent. But if best predictions are correct, and we are entering the era of post-peak production, a steady and accelerating increase in the price of oil is inevitable, and soon.”

Peak Oil (3)

While the reception remains clear, no sound comes out. Keen lip-readers may be able to individuate key words in the ex-Colonel of Marine’s discourse i.e. “commodity”, “crisis of accumulation” and “neo-Malthusians”, though precisely how they will be able to re-construct his argument is something Dieterling cannot determine with any confidence.

Peak Oil (2)

Four square eyes are on the ex-Colonel of Marines standing before a pie chart representing percentage shares of OPEC/NOPEC nations when the lights in the LL Studio begin to flicker.

The hologram of Professor Hex exclaims:

Hells bells! A child has been let loose!

What your nephew, the little monkey?

No, your friend, the Poltergeist.

Peak Oil

Returning to Late Late Show studio where the Cato-masked Interviewer is introducing a new guest.

“A warm welcome to Stan Goff, who is here to publicise his new book: Peak Oil, The Impending Crisis.”

The holograms of Hex and Horn light up:

At long last, the hydrocarbon specialist!

You mean, the ex-colonel of the US Marines? –

The very same.

Well, he’s always been value for money. But in what way has this got to do with the project of the Dark Gods?

You ninny! These people are in the process of unlocking the secrets of materialistic reality!

In that case we better listen!

Tubby Tormentor

Cut in from Adelaide, Australia

In close-up the Tubby Tormentor, gloating at the incoming English bat.

The packed slip cordon includes giants of modern Oz cricket: two gum-chewing Waughs, the Hayden, Punter in at gulley. Bizarrely a helmeted handlebar moustache at short leg has afficionados of the BB wondering what Butch is doing at Adelaide. Only those such as Maldodor i.e. in the real know realise it is of course none other than D Boon who occupies the Brian Close position.

The Tormentor ambles up to the stumps.

The ball rips out of the Tormentor’s hand, lands in the rough created by Pigeon et al and cuts back in off the broken surface – ridiculously close to the outside edge of the English bat and the leg stump.

To cries of “Nice bowling, Shane!” the commentary team can be heard:

Well, Geoffrey, reckon that was the top spinner.

Interview with Sheikh (3)

Cut back to the Late Late Show where:

A team of top Armani suited lawyers rush on set to extricate the Sheikh from the slanders of the Cato-masked Interviewer. The Armani suited lawyers become entangled in toilet paper. - The Andrex puppy and three of his little brothers yapping at their feet.

In the scuffle the Sheikh slips offset.

Lebooty crimes

Those Sheikh crimes in brief (and as enumerated by the Cricketers’ Commission):

(1) profiteering
(2) qat smuggling
(3) masterminding kidnap of respected Semiotician
(4) providing logistical assistance to the known nine eleven conspirators
(5) propagating theories unfavourable to the media consensus i.e. Peak Oil, Mars Attacks, and Fourth Plane Theory
(6) traffic in bogus artefacts i.e. skeletons of Nephilim, BigFoot charms, Mothman videos, Ica stones, Syd Barrett bootlegs
(7) stealing of black box
(8) bankrolling of Jihadis
(9) aiding and abetting of Mad Mullah Mustafa
(10) dissemination of incendiary Mustafa literature
(11) sponsorship of Mustafa’s old Madrassa
(12) logistical assistance to Jihad Boot Camp, including supplies of mate and qat
(13) traffic in imitation Klucker Hoods
(14) traffic in stolen/counterfeit passports
(15) possession of disguises i.e. shades and false beards
(16) narco-trafficking
(17) bigamy
(18) performing without a theatrical license

Interview with Sheikh (2)

Returning to the Late Late Show studio

Cato-masked Interviewer: Sheikh LeBooty, the list of your crimes is long and heinous.

Sheikh: Well, must say this is most un-sporting of you, old boy.

Cato-masked Interviewer: Nevertheless, you cannot deny the heinousness -

Sheikh: I am not aware of having committed anything particularly heinous, unless of course you count the number of my wives. But as you know among us Bedouins, bigamy is common practice.

Cato-masked Interviewer: Come off it, Sheikh! You are trying the Cricketers’ patience.

The Cato-masked Interviewer springs to his feet, unravelling a toilet roll of hastily compiled accusations.

The toilet unravels, pursued by the Andrex puppy.

Goons Routine

Monkhouse on the burst throwing his voice into a Goons style routine featuring Bluebottle and Milligan. The backdrop is of the three highly-strung Bronte Sisters knitting in their Yorkshire sitting room, Bramill helping himself to the port.

Bluebottle (In high-pitched squeak): Catherine, why don’t you ditch that there Sheikh?

Milligan: I agree, the Sheikh is not up to the task of Yorkshire beer matting.

Bluebottle: What is that, Spike?

Milligan: Bluebottle, you do not know what is Yorkshire beer matting? Scandalous!

Bluebottle: Sorry, Spike.

Cut in of flat-capped Yorkshireman
Contemplating his Theakston’s beer mat
(has Eternal-Heir-to-Throne chortling in his pyjamas)

Interview with Sheikh (Expurgated)

Present: Cato-masked Interviewer and Sheikh LeBooty
Absent: Monkhouse.

Cato-masked Interviewer: Sheikh LeBooty, first of all I would like to say, welcome.

Sheikh: Salam, old boy.

Cato-masked Interviewer: Sheikh, a few background questions. As we understand, you were educated in England.

Sheikh: Not the playing fields of Eton, dear boy, but very close.

Monkhouse (Calling from off-set): Let me guess, Madchester Grammar!

Cato-masked Interviewer (Frowning): I will not insult your intelligence. Now lets get onto your profiling.

Monkhouse (Off-set again, only more softly): Highlights or Grecian 2000?

Cato-masked Interviewer: Sheikh, we are talking about your wife who is said to be pining for you on the Yorkshire Moors.

Sheikh (Smiling): Well, it is true I once knew a woman called Catherine.

Doc Queries

In response to this ploy by I Universe contractors the Doc wishes to know the following

(a) if this is a call for Vanity Publishing (in which case, do they provide free beauty/health care products)

(b) if there is anything in it for his collaborators, i.e. The Sheikh, Maldodor.

(c) If he has to do any book signing/autograph hunting, in which case strictly those Barnes and Noble stores in the vicinity of Ground Zero.

(d) If they go straight to paperback, in which case will he have option on copies remaindered to world wide corner shops where indeed the Sheikh has many friends.

(e) If they put this out on video, in which case he wants the backing track from Homeboy together with sampling rights. (Cut in of Homeboy in face off with camera. Don’t let them rip you off, doc.)

(f) If this is still a call for Vanity Publishing, in which case he reserves the right to call on the services of the Dancing Delaneys. The Sheikh feels they will go down very well with the ex-patriot community.

(g) The interview with Sheikh shall proceed uncensored, and unabridged.

Second Offer

I Universe are down on their hands and knees pleading:

Doc, we are reasonable people… unlike your Pledeian sponsors who appear to be involved in a plot to bring about Planet Earth’s annihilation…

Doc’s flashback

The toilet bowl in someone’s student flat
Butt ends
Shit pips
Dried puke stains on the back of the upright seat.
Carrot, rice, mange tout… the Scarfian remains of a celebratory Chinese

Doc’ sec: What should I do? - Hang up…

(In a throaty whisper): Tell them I am in a meeting with I Parallax.

Doc’s sec: I Parallax! Who are they?

Kola, surely you have not forgot our Pledeian sponsors!

I Universe Offer

Cue ringing tone of ancient dial phone.

Doc’s sec: It’s I Universe on the line. They just come up with an offer.

For my services! - It cannot be! What joy!

Doc jumps up and down like child. –
Whoops like Indian only to be reined in by twisted flashback.

Entertaining Miss Palestine (2)

And now he has read the transcript # of their conversation. The snatched phrases amid the indecipherable, unmentionable stuck in his throat

You know I worry.

Worry… it’s just business

I know but the planes…

Statistically you have no grounds for worry.

Oh, you say, flight is safe as houses.

Entertaining Miss Palestine

It was a hot spring day up there. And she it seems not an experienced skier had to be held up from time to time. The camera snaps her laughing at her own foolish - clumsiness.

They describe him as graceful. A slow, graceful skier said the report. When they reached the bottom of the slope he holds her – the dark-haired femme from fair Asia.

The shot of the dog (a golden retriever) that was caught turning in the snow. – Its eyes all bloodshot.

The shot in the bar showed him smoking a cigarette. A smoker of filter tips. (Raleighs, not Players)

At the airport, before the check-in, he holds her tight and whispers. - If only I could lip-read, honey.

Foo Flyer (7)

Alvarez doodling on the page
Crosses the tail of a Lear-jet

Alvarez slipping and sliding with his Parker
Down the snowy slopes of
Never-land

Why time
With D. Cooper

Foo Flyer
Henri Claude

Snapped with goggles and skis in hand.
A white polo-neck.
Beaucoup chic.
Call it entertaining Miss Palestine.

Foo Flyer (6)

Disappears, Mr Pimpernel,
Only to pop back up with new cover:

A fly school in Never-land,
Rich pickings with the Dutch quackers,
Rudi and Desmond,
Offer lessons to amateur captains
And alien flyers,
The French lackey
Holding the golf bag
And the key to your cloudy portal


And now this weird, fly time stroke why time with a guy called D. Cooper. Coincidence par excellence.

Foo Flyer (5)

Arrests were made,
The DEA blazes a trail
They got Escobar
Sunk the Colombian Coke King
In a trial of bullets

Foo Flyer (4)

Throughout the eighties, and no doubt beyond:
Carlos cadred,
The Flying Frenchie,
Monsieur Saint Exupery,
Dope runs in the Caribbean,
Island hops all the way to Miami.

Foo Flyer (3)

Army.
Possibly, Special Forces.

Late Nam. – The fall-out from Apocalypse Now. - In the frenzied scram. Just as we were pulling out, the Foo Flyer was there. – Ferrying refugees and embassy staff. (Alvarez himself narrowly escaping the storming of our sorry citadel - his arm in a pitiful sling from a falling filing cabinet.)

Foo Flyer (2)

Came to the States in his teens. Family moved from Paris via Toulouse where he goes to school and stars in the back-row of the rugby team. –


Broke his nose.
Broke his nose falling off the back of a lorry.
The nose an elegant nose became a squashed nose… a rugby player’s nose.

A polyglot
Spoke three languages other than his own:
German uncommonly well,
English with an accent, and
Spanish like a South American.

Foo Flyer (1)

The question had been plaguing Alvarez over several weeks. Ever since the package had come into his possession, he had not been able to sleep.

What was known of the Foo Flyer?

S.A. Alvarez

Kola: Doc, you reckon they are leading us up the proverbial garden path.

Doc: Kola, you are the one wearing the wraparounds, not moi. What do you see?

Kola (As if concentrating on the remote review): A man approaching a PO Box.

Doc: Grand Central Station.

Kola: That’s the one.

Doc: And he has the key. – Describe him.

Kola: He’s wearing one of those white macks, Trilby.

Doc: A sixties dude! Must be S.A. Alvarez!

Buried treasure

Kola: Don’t get it, doc. What is the connection? The buried treasure?

Doc: Must be a test. Like do the joined up thinking before you wind up in the ziggurat with the wolverines.