Wednesday Words: Lorelei Zzyzx

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Lorelei Zzyzx*** sprayed her brittle blond hair one last time, and checked her glossy red fingernails.  “Today, I must be gracious, yet determined,” she whispered to the mirror.” 

Meeting with a new editor should be simple since her last seventeen books published were successful romance/paranormal titles, and were pulling in big bucks.

“The Avenge of the Highland Marauder” was a no-brainer:  Strong words, passion withheld, an emotionally scarred Scottish hero (throwing in some Gaelic), marauders who plundered freely in that time period, and a mystical fey heroine who radiated stardust:  it's a slam dunk.

The plot meanders a bit, but oh, well.  Lorelei tossed the bright cherry red cape over her shoulder, locked the door behind her, and exited.  No brainer.

*** "Zzyzx" is not a real name, just so you know. It is a town in California, a really odd town to boot.

The bold underlined words were provided by Delores at Under the Porchlight who each week gives us participants a good kick in the pants/brains to create prose, poetry, flash fiction, etc. using these words.  Fun stuff.  Pleeeeaaase go to site above or by clicking on the train tracks in the right sidebar.  

'Vegas on the I-15

Nobody knew I-15 from ‘Vegas to San Bernardino, nobody, like Marvin Alton. If someone asked what Tourist to Las Vegas bus to take, the answer would always be, “Take Marvin Alton’s bus—he knows the road like nobody else.”

Source: early vegas

That was 1960s then 70s, then 80s, and 90s.  Roads change and Marvin got older.  Son Buddy made him retire when diabetes got bad, eyesight with it.

So there Marvin sat, a crumpled up old man in a Lincoln Escalade, watching the new road before him and the desert on the sides.  The radio thing played Big Band music with Sinatra and Dean crooning the miles away.

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Off in the desert, bus stop breaks stood abandoned.  Windows broken, roof falling in. Place after place. On the planks and adobe bricks, Marvin’s poor eyesight picked up “ MEMS DESPOE”.  What the hell?” 

Just when he worked the letters through his head, another spray painted words popped up: AWARE!  Kids are just plain stupid..

Then, DES on the POE! AWARE…JEREMY.  Miles went by while Marvin passed the words over and over while Sinatra sang.

The Baker, CA exit seemed a good place to take a break. DQ was a new building, its big red and blue sign intimating, "Stop Here! You'll die if you don't!!" 

Buddy helped Marvin to the toilet and then back into the car.  Diabetes and ice cream don't like each other.

Marvin settled back in the Lincoln as a tour bus pulled in, new model with DVDs in the seat backs.  A group of teens rushed in, and then rushed out.

Marvin chuckled as the chocolate-dipped cones lost the chocolate in chunks, and the bus driver could be heard swearing and shouting. 

Just what I’d do…Some things change but never change. 

The road moved on and so did Marvin. 

We lived in Victorville, CA, for seven years.  Our children were born there and started school during those years.  A pleasant, almost cool, summer day would be about 94 degrees.  July and August were never mentioned.

Mojave Desert: Source

Got me one...

B-29 Superfortress

Flying over China, Bud stared over the wing of B-29, nicknamed “Bomber Betty”.  Darkness draped over the mountains below, hiding the aluminum of crashed planes, called "Tin Can Alley".

The pilot, Capt. Ezell eased down low over the China Sea, conserving on fuel, riding below radar.  The white caps of the water below flew along with the plane.

Japan was twenty minutes away.

Ezell began the ascent to high above the waters, high enough to drop the payload.

Bud stretched legs and arms, a hard job for a tall man, a bay gunner in the bomber.  He gave the other bay gunner a shout.  “Hey, Sweetman!  Get up, time to go to work.”

Dark handsome Bud in center, 468th division, 1944

Sweetman replied with some expected profanity, and both checked their guns on the ready.

Ten...five minutes to Japan.  

That was when the Japanese fighters buzzed out from the clouds, fast mosquitoes darting around, above, and below...ack-ack-ack tracers...tail gunner swirling to hit the darting planes.

Bud and Sweetman aimed, fired, aimed again...again...again.  I got one…yep, I got me one…

The bombs were released, target hit, damage confirmed, flames billowing.  Time to go home.  Time to fly low over the water, to use every drop of fuel needed to make it back to China. 

Landing is a relief, after 24 hours in the air.

I got one…yep, I got me one….

My father Bud was one of the B-29 crew that flew in supplies to the starving Chinese people.  The Japanese had prevented supplies by barricading the coast lines.  My father was mainly involved in bombing runs over Japan.  I believe he and the crew flew 24? missions, some back to back.