Tuesday, December 31, 2013


A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

The Christmas tree is decorated! I had it up for one week. Just one week and Scrooge had the nerve Saturday to ask if I was saving the tree to decorate next year. Scrooge would be Mr. D.

It boils down to a matter of time.

Time is a powerful word.

I don’t remember a time I haven’t gone through ornaments and remembered the kids, all the towns we’ve lived in and many friends and family. Each time I get more nostalgic.

I hung a ragtag Santa and Christmas tree Jenny made. Santa is glued and little bits of stuffing sticking here and there. The tree was hand sewn and cotton pooches out everywhere.

Josh’s funniest contributions are six cookie dough ornaments that are not Christmas colors. He was six, in Cub Scouts and that was not what he wanted to do. The troop leader apologized for the mess and I told her they weren’t a mess, they were memories.

If either or both of the kids are here they look for these ornaments and others that are parts of their childhood.

Favorites are hung side-by-side like the little brass tricycle hanging just above a small brass baby buggy representing the first Christmas brother welcomed little sister to the tree.

I have Elvis decorations. I know I know. I’m sure if there were Bob Wills’ decorations hubby would have those. I’d even buy them for him. Maybe.

Mice, woodchoppers, and Santa’s – homemade and bought – are not so artfully gracing our little tree.

I stood back admiring half the lights blinking, the other half not; the angel topper lopsided and crooked bows.

It was beautiful.

Yes, time is a powerful word.

Time can pass so slowly one wonders if the kids will ever grow up and leave.

Time then comes to remind you those babes are gone.

They’re busy making memories with their children.

Times spent creating the memories this tree made are well worth the exhaustion I remember feeling while doing this year after year on a much larger tree.

The kids tell stories of inviting friends, making sugar cookies, decorations and mom was sitting right in the middle of them having more fun than they. Dad would come home and admire the goodies and try to ignore the mess.

Christmas is about family and sharing.

Time spent together.

It’s a time to reflect, laugh, and teach the true meaning of Christmas.

Make memories.

Take that time.

It passes.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Guns Up!

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

Football is back.

The first thing Mr. D said to me this morning was “Why didn’t you remind me the Cowboys were playing last night?”

I am glad football season is approaching because I love college football and everything that goes with that, but I quit watching pro football years ago when their jewelry became heavier than the football.

Not to mention their less than stellar games played outside the football stadium.

Mr. D has remained faithful to the Cowboys even though that quarterback can be half way decent throughout the season and then drop the ball literally and physically “if” they make it to the playoffs.

Even my Wes Welker couldn’t help the guy.

Now that I have made Cowboy fans everywhere angry and got a chuckle from those who don’t like them – let’s talk Big 12.

I am so excited I can’t stand it!

We haven’t bought season tickets in three years (if you keep up with Texas Tech you will understand I was protesting the lousy coach we got dumped on us). Mr. D never quite felt that sting quite as badly, but by the time that coach got up and walked out even he was saying as an armchair quarterback position he was more accurately calling plays.

We have a young coach who is a former Red Raider. When I hear he is too young at 33, I point out Darrell Royal was 32 when he took over the Longhorns and the rest is history. I know football has changed a lot since then, but hey, I’m optimistic.

Not only did he coach the Heisman Trophy winner last year at A&M he is quite easy on the eyes.

This is where the guys roll their eyes and the ladies perk interest.

He has a five o’clock shadow (Mr. D thinks he needs to shave); wears Oakley’s, and let’s just say he’d be good competition for George Strait’s Wrangler ads.

Mr. D asks, “But can he coach?” Why is he always negative? Of course he knows he can coach and is as excited as I about getting back into that stadium. He just can’t understand how and why I can balance the game with the looks of the coach.

He even asked me if I bought the season tickets to look at the coach or for football.

The answer to that is yes.

What is his point anyway?
Guns Up!


A Dollar's Worth

By Alisa Dollar

Last week I flew to Phoenix to watch oldest grandchild graduate high school. I don't think I will ever understand flight paths. I flew from Lubbock to Austin to Phoenix. Mr. D thinks I scheduled it on purpose because he calls me Pathfinder.

I was to leave at 6:40 p.m. but because of the horrible tornado in Oklahoma, it was 9:40 to finally arrive in Phoenix at 2:30 a.m. their time.

Needless to say there were some very tired, irritated and cranky travelers along the way having been stranded for hours in places many had not planned on doing anything but touch ground.

One of which was Lubbock.

Realizing the South Plains of Texas is an acquired taste, I will readily admit I had to get used to the sky touching the ground even within the city limits. However, it's been my home for most of my adult life.

When finally boarding there was a group of noisy people behind me who were saying loudly how happy they were to get out of this place, it was awful, the airport was awful, the town was boring and the last for best, it was ugly and they wanted to get home.

I've learned in my life to choose battles and when I turned to look at the group of partiers I instantly chose this one.

After staring them down I said, "Just think. You could be in Oklahoma digging through rubble. Poor you. You're stuck in Lubbock."

Needless to say I rained on their parade and hopefully I helped them remember that home truly is where a heart might be.

Memorial Day was just ahead and I couldn't help but think of men and women who gave their lives for this country and then the ravages left in my neighboring state of those who in an instant lost so much.

It's a hard concept to grasp especially since I've not experienced either firsthand.  I can only be reverent to those who have even if it's only being patient for hours of delayed flights.

Elizabeth played the national anthem with two other saxophonists to open their high school graduation ceremony which would begin a new venture into adulthood.

One could hear a pin drop because of its haunting beauty.

Her very proud nana shed tears of joy at the sound which consolidated all of what I felt about home to definition.

We are the home of the brave.

Friday, November 8, 2013

The Art of Making Candy

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

I’ve found another dying art - candy making.

Little Debbie (the shortest of all Debbie’s I know) called and asked me to help her. I reminded her that my only candy experiment of never-fail fudge—failed.

When I got there she was stirring over a big pot. She’d doubled the recipe and had a big glob of white looking stuff and vigorously stirred.

I looked around and everything was measured, leveled and ready to go. I knew she’d do that because she is that kind of cook. I was thinking maybe this is why my fudge failed.

While she stirred, my job was to watch it boil until it turned a brownish goldish color.

“I sure hope Willie Nelson doesn’t die.”

Debbie laughed and asked what brought that on.

“Remember when I canned that one time Elvis fell off the can and died? Right there on the bathroom floor.”

The nice thing about a longtime friend is that she knew I was serious so she said that Willie was too ornery to kick the bucket and had outlived many of his peers.

Sighing, I continued to watch the boiling matter and screeched when it turned. She politely asked me to hush – which means ‘shut up you’re making me nervous’. It reminded me of mother when I tried to help.

After asking too many questions starting with “why” she sent me to butter the pans and trust me, I didn’t pass go and I didn’t collect two hundred dollars. Debbie was past the frustration point.

In a few minutes, she ran to the table and poured half on each tin. It kind of scared me because she was moving very fast. Generally she’s at a snail’s pace.

I tried very hard to stay out of her way because she tends to get very bossy for such a little person.

We buttered our hands and pulled the mixture till it separated and left it on the table.

All the while she fretted about it not being good because she doubled the recipe.

I on the other hand was having a blast with this pulling and stretching.

This part was fun!

Sampling quite a bit, I told her it was very good. I thought she was being picky.

I learned that candy-makers are perfectionists in their art.

I also learned to appreciate exact timing.

My world is too impatient to make candy.

I’ve always appreciated those who share.

More so now!

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Listening to Elks????

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

I have a friend who is going to Wyoming this week. Anyone want to guess why?

I thought rodeo, but she doesn’t seem the rodeo type.

I thought maybe her husband was from there and they were visiting family. Nope, diehard Texas boy A&M vet.

When she told me she was going to listen to elks I was flabbergasted.

“Kay, they shoot elks don’t they?” was the question I posed to myself. Keep in mind we are personal messaging on Facebook.

Instead I told her she was the most eclectic friend I had. Seriously, who else has friends that drive to Wyoming to get up early and listen to elks? I didn’t know elks made noises personally.

She replies elks at dawn (that left me out right there) have a haunting musical sound and in Canada it was eerie and primal and magical.

I accept her elk sound knowledge because the only elks I’ve seen are in books, on TV, in movies, and on a plate. They make no noise.

“Are you saying I’m a weirdo?” she asks.

I said no and reminded her she implied the same of what I read and watch on TV and movies.

“Oh, yeah, well there’s that.”

I know Facebook isn’t for everyone. I joined first because one of our students decided I needed to. Now I keep up with my kids and families, my sisters and their families, and many friends.

I didn’t realize how many people I know from writing, places we’ve lived, and from my hometown would pop up asking to be “friends”.

One of these was Kay.

She was a freshman when I was a senior at Luling High School.

Unfortunately, Kay remembers me in a different way than I remember me. It seems I may have been the bus entertainer on basketball out-of-town games.

Whatever, I have loved us getting to know each other as adults. I use the word adults lightly. I even typed it lightly.

The reason?  When I visit with Kay whether on Facebook, phone or text message, I’m immediately transported to a time when life was easy with no responsibilities except make good grades, go to church, and not get caught by parents doing something we weren’t supposed to do.

Wait.  That was me not Kay.

At least that’s what she claims. I just wish I didn’t believe her.

Friends and family regardless of how we connect are our hearts.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Kenny, this one is for you..... :-)

Have you been in front of a group, ready to speak and everything, including your speech totally escapes the mind? In addition, you see a face screwed into contortions and realize the tormentor is a fellow classmate! 

He should’ve displayed concern. Compassion. Caring.

Instead, his face showed after effects of a sour lemon.

Have you uttered a curse word in front of said crowd because Lemon Face was the last straw?
The redeeming factor was the total shock on everyone’s face. The downside I made the only “F” I’d made in 12 years. The teacher never looked up, but said “Next” to a quiet classroom which rivaled an E.F. Hutton commercial.

I recognized this as another defining moment of growing pains. Pain isn’t necessarily physical. No, that particular moment was one in which I simply didn’t care.

The key to not caring is the same as caring or following the rules. One must live with the consequences--an “F” on an otherwise commendable English average.

Lemon Face (LF) isn’t a fair moniker. It should be HF (Happy Face). HF always and to this day has a big (sometimes silly) grin. Most everyone adored HF. Especially the girls. Some even older and wiser (so he said).

I never won an honor in high school that he didn’t.  We were awarded by class vote, as junior class favorites. We had our picture taken in formal wear. We were skinny and had more hair back then. Especially Happy Face, just sayin’…..

He probably received more, but the only other for me, by overall vote of the whole high school, was Wittiest. Again, we had our picture made our senior year–still skinny and with more hair at a poker table with yours truly holding all the chips. The only time he’s had a sad look. He knew I could take all his money.

We must’ve been funny if the whole school thought so. Or we were comedic pests. Hard to remember now, all these pounds later.

We never dated (he liked older women, remember?) and besides that would’ve been like kissing my brother–yech–but we were and still are good friends.

Over the years we’ve crossed paths at many opportunities. Spouses have met and lamented their sad but true lives with clowns. That’s why we’ve been married a total of over 80 years. They’ve had a bad life, haven’t they? By the way, she’s a young chick.

HF, remember, payback’s you-know-what.

Give me time. I’m still thinking.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Zombies, Hell, Democrats, Republicans and The People :-)

I wrote this a while back for an online class I was taking. We were told to write something either sci-fi, futuristic or weird. So I did weird. I love following politics and this includes many representations of things happening (clunkers, climate change, guns, right wing, etc.) and when push came to shove, the children save us.  What's funny is that when I found this I was surprised at all the things we are actually REALLY fighting about now!  Anyway, here it is for whatever it's worth and just know I have a crazy imagination - Abomination = Prez; Allegory = Algore; Em Paled = Sarah Palen or the groups they each represent---  alisa  (p.s. the spacing turned out weird)


By Alisa Dollar



Hell froze over.
Then it melted.



Chapter One


“What th’ hell?”


“Nice choice of words there Abomination.” Allegory addressed the idiocy of a statement made in Hell.


“Well look. We’re able to move and I’m freezing!” Abomination reached instinctively to hug himself as he was prone to do above the earth.


“Don’t rub it in,” Allegory replied sharply. “How was I to know those emails would leak?”


“Yeah all that time we had the media on the right side.” Abomination snorted cold air.


“You mis-spoke. They were on the left side until that Em Paled woman came along.” Shaking his head in disgust he spewed “Who would’ve thought a moose shooting woman could carry so much damage to our cause? We really underestimated her and that gang of rogues.”


“Ya’ think?”






Chapter Two


Em Paled couldn’t believe zombies had risen when Hell melted. The only thing she hoped were the instigators of all this weather change, oh excuse me, she mentally reminded herself to “climate change.”


She looked over what was left of Mother Earth and realized that the saying “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” was true. Mother Earth was here to stay, but oh what she’d been through to survive.


Em Paled had few resources left in which to fight. She had her own agenda. The complete opposite of what was left behind. It had been oh-so-easy. Turning heads her way, because of their desperate plight had been a snap. Work and earn. Earn and save. Earn and own.


It’d been easy as pie. Who cared she hoarded most of the pie? How could anyone know when destitution was being replaced by what everyone wanted? Money. Homes. Security.


Allegory, Abomination, and their likes had bailed themselves right before the big crash. Unfortunately for the main two, they’d taken their cash and in their wild furor to escape to safer grounds, had stolen a clunker. Poor guys. It never made it out of D.C.


If she had the grace, she’d thank them for leaving her the perfect opportunity to attack the vulnerable.


And that she did.






Chapter Three


Em Paled had let it be known a number of zombies had been freed from Hell and there was no way of knowing how many or who they might be.


Media wasn’t like it used to be; even a lie couldn’t be spread except by word of mouth. There was good and bad in the destruction of class struggle.


Em Paled knew that. In order to bring forth class collaboration, she’d exerted much effort into reorganizing the mass.


She was the queen bee, surrounded by chosen royalty. They were chosen by her, so as not to be disrupted by a few distraught constituents. Voting was out. Again, thanks to the endeavors lay down by Abomination, Allegory, and their like.


Em Paled ejected a cynical laugh.


“An easy playground they left, for sure.” she muttered to herself as she went to find self-picked legions to instruct the working class collaborators.








Chapter Four


Abomination grudgingly trod through deep cavities of stench and wondered again how he’d stayed in such a nasty hole. He’d had the best. He’d climbed a ladder to get there from the lowest of lowest. Sure he’d had help. The communities he’d organized to boost when needed had paid him well. His mentors were proficient. All was going well.


That is, until that wicked witch from the West.


“What’s going on?” Allegory was actually smiling.


“Get that smirk off your face!”


“Gotta' make the best of the worst. That’s how we got where we are.” Allegory patted himself once more on the back as satisfaction oozed and mixed with his torn and rugged flesh. “I’m hungry. I’ve not known hunger of this magnitude for a while.”


“Look!” Allegory pointed toward a playground of children running about. “Mmmmmmmm. Let’s go eat.”






Chapter Five


Hunger consumed.


They feasted on the small flesh and bones of innocents.


They had no rationality.


They never had.


They never would.


They’d fleshed society once by grabbing their will and means. .


Society flushed them.


Sent them to Hell.


Evil begets evil.


This time they’d flesh literally.


Allegory and Abomination feasted on the limbs and flesh of the young.


Tender meat.


Tasty treat.


Laughing they trampled along in jerky movements.




The name of their game.






Chapter Six


Elizabeth heard the ravaging sounds and cried out in fear and disgust as two bloody monster-like creatures slobbered over severed bones with bits and pieces of flesh hanging from vitriolic mouths.


As long as she lived she’d never forget the sounds of children screaming for help, then pain and lastly the moaning before the silence of little voices overshadowed by slurping noises of extreme satisfaction.


She knew there was no help for those taken in violence.

Elizabeth called 666 asking for help. The news was already out zombies were about. There was no word on how many or where. Just that they came from Hell.


They had to come from Hell. No one else  could do what they’d done.


Before gathering the children left, she picked up her personal phone and dialed a quick 911. It was the old way for help and though they’d been told to use the new number the old one was for those like her.






Chapter Seven


Women in White had been formed almost as soon as Allegory and Abomination had been summoned to Hell. They represented purity of a new beginning.


Em Paled, who at first seemed to want what the people wanted, only to find she too demanded the same type control, but under the guise of “we” the people.


She was the people. Or so she thought.


The difference being money was flowing but there was still a definite caste system. This time around, rather than everyone being the same, the difference lay in where the line was drawn between high and higher; she was higher.


Most fell on the high side. The trick was to make the mass believe they were better off than before.


Women in White were underground and with the help of all the technology to date had set aside enough cell phones and codes in which to operate covertly.


When suspicion was cast upon Abomination and Allegory by Em Paled and her like, the dumbed down masses had turned to her in desperation.


As duly noted, desperation destroys one’s will.


One way.


Or the other.






Chapter Eight


Abomination rubbed his stomach and watch Allegory wipe his mouth and lick his fingers one by one. He admitted Allegory had a much better upbringing but urged him to hurry.


“I smell Em Paled.” he said loudly. “I want her.”


“Yeah, she was hot, right?” Allegory added.


“That’s not why. She destroyed my kingdom. She must pay. We’ll have her for dinner and anyone else in sight around her.” Abomination flatly stated.


“Dinner it is.” Allegory agreed as they traveled toward the smell. Abomination always had the nose for business. He knew his own game was bullish. He could draw in money and sludge. Abomination was the crowd pleaser.




Chapter Nine


Em Paled viewed her domain from the right wing of her palatial home. She’d heard who’d escaped Hell and though she shuddered to think of having to deal with them again, she knew she’d win.


She was a sure shot with a gun and a bow and arrow.


Em Paled had what it took to get the job done.


She smiled and lingered over her newly drawn plans for those in high. She was ready to draw them into battle under the impression they’d fight for “rights”–always a catchy phrase to the population of what was left of America.


America the Unbeautiful. Some things do change.






Chapter Ten


Anthony, upon hearing from Elizabeth, rounded up as many of the Men in Red to gather hidden guns and weapons. He’d heard what had happened and hoped his child was safe.


Men in Red formed at the same time as the women’s group. They represented the bloodshed for lost freedom. And the blood that had yet to be shed for freedom gained.


Abomination had restricted guns and any weapon except for his kind. Anthony and others had begun to stash when the realization hit they’d better or be without a way in which to protect their families.


The Second Amendment had been eradicated along with the First.


Em Paled had assured the people to restore both, but in fact, she and her immediate followers were the only armed people in the mix. Her promises fell just as flat and just as insincere as the last leader. Though she guaranteed assistance if or when needed, the hollow air around her mouth as she issued the promise became yet another lie of power’s breath.





Chapter Eleven


The loud roar of discrepant laughter haunted Elizabeth as she herded the children ahead of her to safer grounds. They weren’t that far ahead of the zombies. Instinctively, she was happy hers and Anthony’s child had been saved. She grieved for those that weren’t. All ages had been demolished by poverty, violence relating to envy, or just death by distraction from life. They simply gave up and gave in.


There were but few who had the will and determination to take back what started in the beginning when the Pilgrims took to the land.


Replenish. Restore. Regain.


Land. Liberty. Love.


She’d never known what life could be, only what was. They’d all heard of the good times when people shared and did the right thing. Envy and power were not admirable in leaders. Elections were held to select and deselect. Choices were the mode of operation.


Elizabeth had never had choices.  Then the Women in White and Men in Red formed. It was only then everyone was given a choice.


It was a beautiful feeling.






Chapter Twelve


Allegory grabbed palatial guards right and left and munched upon flesh and blood to garner entrance to Em Paled’s grounds.


Abomination hadn’t been wrong. He could smell the worthiest of rats.


Abomination came at that time and snapped the head of a patrolman screaming for mercy as Allegory teasingly nibbled on his bloody and broken leg.




Allegory stood his ground and pointed a blood dripping accusatory finger toward his fellow zombie and in a snide kid-like voice taunted, “Why? You’re chewing with your mouth open and chomping, why shouldn’t I?


Abomination spit toothpick sized bones to the side and snarled, “Listen up, I meant keep the prey quiet. Suck the heads off first, you idiot. You’re torturing them otherwise.”


“Well we wouldn’t want to torture, now would we?” Allegory couldn’t seem to baiting Abomination. It just felt too good to be free. Hell had been torture. No water for the boarders. “You’ve got veins in your teeth, by the way.”


Abomination picked the slime from his teeth and jerked his way toward the Paled Palace. He couldn’t wait. Grabbing every person in sight he devoured and sopped brains first following his own advice. He saved the hearts to the last. Dessert. His Mecca. His strength.

Allegory did the same.


Together they demolished and savored. Most were mired in trenches made by melted ice. The heat was definitely rising to proportions beyond Allegory’s expectation.


He couldn’t help but be a bit miffed it happened now.






Chapter Thirteen


Em Paled watched as warrior after warrior of the higher order was ravished by the two disfigured and disgusting animalistic beings. She knew who they were.


Abomination and Allegory. They had on the same clothes as the day they were doomed to everlasting Hell. Now ill fit as their growth had been stunted during their stint on earth. Hell must have been better feeding.


Blood and flesh dripped from their hideous mouths. The disfigured, colossal bodies lumbered toward her shelter.


Not one to flummox, she flexed. Rather than admit defeat, she’d trounce them back to Hell. She’d come too far.


It’s time to call the high to defend her, for their honor of course.


She dialed 666.






Chapter Fourteen


Elizabeth and Anthony were surrounded by white and red when the 666 call came in as expected. Everyone knew Em Paled was a huntress, but her distress was also their distress as she no longer killed but designated the duty.


The time was ripe for white and red to take back what had been stolen.


The time for revolution was near.


They expertly organized to ready themselves for Allegory and Abomination. And Em Paled.


Leaving children with Nana’s and Papa’s the white went left because they knew Em Paled would be acceptable to white. Red went left in order to enamor the zombies.


Yes. All the years of planning had come to roost upon ordinary shoulders to recapture the lost years. To regain rights.


The time was ripe.


And they were ready.





Chapter Fifteen


Allegory jolted and jerked through the front. Abomination had a habit of entering through the back. Together they’d plotted the perfect demise of Em Paled.


Their plan was to enter from both sides of the entrance to the center of the palace. Em Paled couldn’t champion one over the other and though slow, they were sure.


And they were hungry for super, sweet and sappy flesh moose of a woman. She’d outsmarted them once, but it wouldn’t happen twice. They were on to her.


Em Paled waited with shotgun on her desk and bow and arrow in hand. Zombies had to be de-brained or severed at the neck. That’s all she knew and as she gazed at all the trophies of heads of deer, moose, and elk, she didn’t think a zombie would be that hard to hit. She was that good and that confident.


She’d done it before.


She’d do it again.





Chapter Sixteen


The Women in White and Men in Red were encircling the palace and signaled the others to stop and watch.


Half devoured flesh eaten bodies were strewn about irrelevantly and with much disregard. The stench was revolting. Eyeballs floated in the little bloody mud puddles forming in droves.


They recognized clothing from loved ones but couldn’t stop their mission  in order to grieve. Sorrow was a luxury of the past. Time forbade an extravagance such as grief or even love and laughter.


They had to hold strong and firm.


They wanted it back.


Allegory disappeared into the front. White flag waved to red as they had Allegory duty. When Abomination entered the back, red flags waved back.


Slowly the white and the red entered the courtyard and surrounded the palace. Half stayed and half entered.


Their day of reckoning had come.






Chapter Seventeen


“What brings you guys back? You weren’t denigrated enough the first time? I have the same citizenry who dumped you, helping me. You don’t have a chance in hell.”


“Hell is not for the faint of heart, my dear.” Allegory soothed. He always thought she was hot even when hot under the collar.


“It’s a wonder you’ve lasted this long, then.” Em Paled laughed at her own joke. “You are still a joke with all that warming and climate change.”


“Couldn’t resist that one?” Allegory lunged as Abomination entered on the other side of the room.


Em Paled backed to her desk and speed dialed 666 with a special hit to the star key signaling extreme distress. She’d play with these guys till her minions arrived.


Abomination snuck behind her and grunted his presence. Unafraid, Em Paled backed further into her desk till she was seated throne-like in front of them.


She reached for her shotgun; sure her warriors would soon arrive. There’s nothing like a bunch of irate masses of people.


Abomination and Allegory were dead even in front of her. Em Paled felt the heat. She wondered if Hell was really that hot or if her bought especially for her dress and heels were infringing on her body temp.


Together the zombies reached. Em Paled held up her shotgun.


Abomination gasped. “That’s not legal!”


“I know.” Em Paled laughed as she shot once, then again.


“Tummy tucks don’t work on us.” They grabbed before she could reload.


Em Paled did what was least expected.


She screamed.






Chapter Eighteen


White and Red entered to see Em Paled fought over by two zombies. She screamed and begged and put a eft and only hand to her people. Before another word could be spoken, Abomination sucked her brain and chewed heartily.


Allegory devoured the rest and both never let their eyes stray from the intruders.


“What have we here?” Abomination hadn’t forgotten his rhetoric. “Can we talk?”


“NO!” Allegory grunted loudly and started in an unsteady jerk toward the white. He always was a ladies’ man.


Abomination shrugged and jumped as quickly as he could toward the men. They could overpower mere mortals.


Hands were poised to snap up as many as possible because they were gluttons; they both noticed there were no weapons.


Abomination was happy somebody followed the laws he’d made.


Out of nowhere a little boy and a little girl appeared.


Abomination and Allegory stopped cold. They looked at each other, then at the humans, then the two children.


They clutched their stomachs and laughed.


Piece of cake.




Chapter Nineteen


The boy and the girl drew slingshots from behind their backs.


A woman in white gave the little girl a rock.


A man in red gave the little boy his rock.


The girl looked to the boy and he looked back.


They turned to two stunned zombies.


With perfect precision they took aim.


Allegory and Abomination lurched towards them.


It was the last step to mankind they made.


Expertly the boy and the girl shot their rocks off and each entered the head directly to the brain.


Allegory and Abomination moaned and wobbled outside and cried for mercy.


There was no mercy.


The earth opened where trenches were dug by the remaining Women in White and Men in Red.


Hell took them in.







Chapter Twenty


The palace was now sparkly white. A flag that had been saved from the good old days was flying high and strongly over the lands.


White and Red; Purity and Blood worked together to rebuild what was once common sense.


At the hands of children came forth a new world to be governed by the people and for the people.


Ever so often when the earth would quake, the newly formed country knew it was Allegory, Abomination and Em Paled.


They were restless.


The natives were not.


The End.