On The Road With Al and Ivy: A Literary Homeless Chronicle

Sunday, December 11, 2022

Boogie Underground Media Presents: Special Preview- The Adventures Of Queen Khleopahtra

SPECIAL PREVIEW: EPISODE ONE OF VELLA SERIAL NOVEL: THE ADVENTUROUS OF QUEEN KHLEOPAHTRA!

EPISODE ONE: QUEEN KHLEOPAHTRA INTRODUCES HERSELF

I am Khleopahtra; Queen of Egypt and Social Media Influencer with over six million followers, Daughter of the Cat Goddess Bastet, who brought me into the Heavens after an Alien encounter with the Warrior King Moheeto from the Planet Maersbarre turned sexy, Protector of Felines and Women, Scourge of spiders and mice, Regular Panel Judge in the Nile River Talent Contest, Author of Two Hundred Graphic Novels and nonfiction books, CEO of Anubis Cat Food, Victorious General of three hundred battles, Three-time MVP of The Alexandria Women's Soccer League, Expert Tarot Card Reader, Black Belt in Egyptian Kung Fu, Master of several musical instruments, Owner Of 300 cats, and Divine Priestess and Oracle of The Rahmen Temple Of Bastet where I am the custodian of the Holy Kahtneep which gives revelatory visions to those the Goddess favors.

My Kingdom dates from the time of the Leopard, during which I led the Khat warriors in over one hundred battles to unite the various tribes into what is now called Egypt.

It was after the Battle Of Pusseh, where I and my scratchy warriors routed the Barking Dogh Tribe who lived up the Nile to the north, when my Dad, King Moheeto, brought the news that my Kingdom had submitted the winning bid for the new space station and rest stop for Planet Maersbarre Airlines.

The contract specified the building of three large stone Pyramids to serve as navigation points, which the Maersbarre People would pay for if I supplied the labor.

That was easy to do as I decreed as Queen that all conquered male subjects would serve a three-year term as independent gig workers in my Memphis Construction Firm. I figured the women in those subject territories would welcome the break from servitude to men.

The Space Station and Rest Stop, which I named “Thebes 24 Hour Gas And Groceries,” became the center of a prosperous city that flowed immense riches into the royal coffers, which freed me up from the time-consuming task of conquering other countries.

Of all of the arts and skills that I mastered, my favorite was divination and the receiving of visions as Priestess of The Rahmen Temple after sniffing the Holy Kahtneep, which transported me to the ethereal world of my mom Bastet, where we would have great Mother-Daughter chats and go on gurl outings.

She sends me to distant lands and times to meet great historical and literary personages and experience historical events as those actually occurred and not as described in myths and legends.

I visit both parents separately, as they had divorced in the Fall of CalikoKhat, three cycles of the seasons ago, after King Moheeto was photographed by paparazzi leaving the bedroom of the Greek Nymph Sirens at a very late hour.

That really pissed Mom off, who made Dad's baby-making spear vanish in a puff of smoke and wouldn't give it back even after having his Air Force laser beam fishing boats on the Nile in retaliation. She eventually gave it back, much to his relief, and the two are good friends now as long as they avoid the subject of Sirens.

It was the Day of Ise, the twelfth day of the moon cycle, that I went to the temple, sniffed the khatneep, and was transported to my mom's place. She had sent a text saying that it had been arranged for me to visit the great warrior Achilles in the early days of the Trojan War, and I was anxious to hear the details!

Bastet's palace looks like this colossal papyrus box with a massive silk pillow in the center. There are several bells and ribbons hanging from the ceiling, which are a source of great amusement for her five hundred cats.

Bastet is very tall and sleek, with large ears that look like pussy willow leaves and, in between, two large green eyes with really fluffy eyelashes.

"Ah, Khleo" she exclaimed as I entered the palace, "You're just in time; the time portal has just opened!"

"Will you be coming along?"

Bastet shook her head, "Can't, I have to clean the five hundred litter boxes. I'd prefer less, but the kitties start popping on my pillow if they have to share."

I nodded. I have the same problem with my babies too.

Then she raised her arms, and all of the cats began meowing, and the room disappeared, and I could see a beach with a thousand ships that had been pulled into the shore, and I could smell the warm coastal air of the Trojan Kingdom and unfortunately, the odor of hundreds of Greek outhouses.

A less than glorious beginning to my adventure, but soon I'll be meeting the greatest Greek warrior who ever lived, the legendary Achilles!

CONTINUE WITH EPISODE 2 (2 & 3 are free)…

- Al HANDA

deltasnake@yahoo.com

BE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE DELTA SNAKE REVIEW ON THIS SAME SITE!

Here's an update on each of my Vella books:

The Quitters

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B09PC3L6PC

It's the first book, and after ten months, it's finally developing an audience, and the stats are trending upward this month. I think it's due to the blog and the new book/music video short format I'm using for its promotion. I’ve moved the plot lines away from potentially over technical descriptions of playing live to more emphasis on the personalities and in particular, the main character Nym. Also, some of the romance elements are now coming into play.

It's at 31 episodes, though as an ebook, we're talking maybe 15 traditional-length chapters. I'm keeping the format episodic and short, kind of like a weekly TV show, which works for Vella but will need to be restructured for the ebook.

I, Ivy

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0B3RCBT4D

The story got off to a decent start, but I didn't notice that as it's obvious now that the daily totals on the Vella dashboard can differ or not jibe with the monthly or overall total, which have to be accurate as those numbers determine the royalty and bonus payouts. I'll be paying more attention to this one in November, as it’s being read more than I thought. The latest chapter, Ivy’s view of the efforts by a human to give her a pill should strike a familiar chord.

The Forbidden Lost Gospels Of Murgatroyde

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJ2TW4P1

This is a new one, though it'll be the most familiar to blog readers. I'll be changing the format of the blog in November, and putting the Lost Gospels here will allow me to fully expand that line of humor and satire in a way that simply being a blog feature doesn't permit.

The Boogie Underground Think Tank: How To Survive The End Of Civilization

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BG6LNXTG

This one is a revival of an old humor column I ran in my old "Delta Snake Blues News" publication in the 90s and 2000s. The slant is about survival in the upcoming hard times, but it really will be topical and cover subjects that are offbeat but relevant. The next one coming in a few days will be "How To Shop For The Perfect Expert," which obviously will be a humorous commentary on the use of experts in general.

The Adventures Of Queen Khleopahtra: Ruler Of Egypt, Time Traveler, and Literary Detective

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJC122G7

This is another new one and will be a fun fusion of the old "Peabody and Sherman" cartoon, which was about a time-traveling dog and boy, Robert Graves' often satirical take on history, and the old "Fractured Fairy Tales" cartoon that used to be featured on the "Rocky And Bullwinkle Show."

I chose Khleopahtra as the main character because it will offer the widest range of literary situations to explore, and I happened to have a cool drawing of her and liked the idea of expanding the character. After reading the first episode, you'll agree that the possibilities are endless.

In the latest episodes, we meet Achilles and the poet Homer, who will become recurring characters!

- Al Handa

October 2022

ontheroadwithalandiivy@yahoo.com

The ebook “On The Road With Al & Ivy: The Anthology Volume 1 2016-2018 is now on Kindle Unlimited!

I’ll run free promotions later this month, but members can read it for free now.

I Can Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw International). F IPlease check out and listen to Mark McGraw’s Christmas single from his album on Bandcamp,Can

Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw Intern

https://markmcgraw.bandcamp.com/album/songs-from-southern-pacific-spur-46

Please check out and listen to my music on Spotify, YouTube, Apple Music and other music sites. Please add any cuts you like to your playlists!

Boogie Underground Media Presents: Special Preview - Episode One of “I, Ivy”

Special Preview: Vella book "I,Ivy"

Episode 1

I am Ivy, and I belong to the ancient Shitzu tribe known as "Dragon Dogs" to the Chinese and, in my case, "Such A Sweetie" to the rest of the world. My hair is almost all white with peach-colored ears; from what people say, it's a rare coloration and soft to the touch.

I came into the world a few years before my ascension to the status of a master with servant. I was a vivacious young maiden sought after by numerous male suitors.

The first thing many men try to do with a foxy little Shih Tzu is keep 'em barefoot and pregnant to make puppies to sell. They do that to a Shih Tzu and keep her in a cage to boot, which hasn't been done to women since the time of the Prophets; thus, my furry bodice was pressed into the service of menkind and their insensate obsession for commerce.

I was rescued by a woman who, after not being able to convince the police that an illegal puppy farm was operating out of a barber shop, went undercover and posed as a customer who wanted a "teacup" Shih Tzu for the going price of 200.00. After being offered one, she presented the evidence to the cops and instructed them to raid the place or receive a pestilent curse from a formidable "cailleach bán," that is to say, herself.

I, along with my brothers and sisters, were saved and prepared, that is to say, trained to be suitable for adoption in a back room of a Vet's office that had a sign that read "Shitzu U." We were to be taught "social skills" and basic commands like "sit" and "roll over."

The strangest was learning to pee on what looked like a big diaper, which was confusing because our cages at the puppy farm were lined with those. We dogs don't go where we sleep.

My education at Shitzu U began almost immediately after the rescue. I agreed it was necessary because my only job skill is being irresistibly cute and fluffy. While that can take a goddess like me a long way, I don't want to depend on men if the puppy farm indicates such a path's success.

The new adoptee course is like a human job orientation because it teaches us how to be good dogs for our new masters. From what I've heard, having a job is like being a pet, except the boss doesn't have to be nice and give treats.

Some of the skills taught, like obeying commands, seemed counterintuitive, as there's no reason to sit for a treat, and it's unclear what a "bad dog" is.

There soon seemed to be disagreement about that with the humans in charge too, and after a loud barking session, our rescuer, a woman named Jezebel, took over and told us to forget what we'd been taught. Jezebel's course made more sense to a shitzu, like how to chew a piece of cheese without swallowing the pill hidden inside and make a walk last longer by delaying the poo, as that's often the signal to go back inside.

The Vet in charge of the office didn't like our new curriculum, but Jezebel had the fiercer bark, so he had to tuck his tail in and be submissive. He doesn't have a rail, but the look on his face has the same vibe.

She also changed the adoption process; the probation period is now six months to ensure that we babies receive the best care and are only adopted by those who meet her standards. Our studies at Shitzu U now include recognizing the ten danger signs of a bad owner, which are to be promptly reported if recognized.

But more on my education later; it's time to take a nap.

Boogie Underground Media Presents: Special Preview! Episode One Of “The Quitters” (Serial Fiction)

Special Preview: This is the full first episode of The Quitters by Al Handa, which is reprinted here from the Kindle Vella site.

You can continue reading the next free episodes, two and three at this link:

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/episode/B09PC1VYVJ

Wednesday evening at the Buhay Gardens, I'm standing off the left of the stage with the rest of the band, waiting for Marley, the promoter of the punk shows, to arrive. It's my first gig as the bass player, I had to switch over from guitar when the bassist quit last week. I'm not happy about it, but bass players are hard to find on short notice. The new guitarist, a long haired hippie guy named Jem, rehearsed with us for the first time yesterday.

Marley, a short guy who dresses like a 50s style beatnick out of North Beach, arrives and without looking to see if everyone's here, starts talking. If you want to play here, you follow his timetable.

He says, "No one knows yet what's good or bad in punk, so it doesn't matter if the crowd cheers or boos, as long as there's a strong reaction, and when your time's up, the sound crew cuts the power, so don't get cute and try to steal minutes from the next band."

He starts to jump onto the stage, but turns and adds, "A little advice, I don't know what you all want out of this, but whatever it is, the only thing that matters is you have 15 minutes to convince me to bring you back. Your future isn't in someday wanna be a star La La Land, it's today, so be what you hope to become, right now."

Marly walks over to the mike to announce our group. My makeup's melting under the hot stage lights. It's dripping into my eyes, so I wipe it off with my ripped tee. No new face I guess, but it's OK, I'm still me even if the mask comes off. We don't take our eyes off him, because the clock starts when he steps off.

Without asking for the crowd's attention, he goes into his monologue,

"Welcome to the Buhay Gardens, San Francisco's premier punk showcase! The first band tonight are the Quitters, it's their first gig," he smirks and pauses for the mosh pit regulars to begin heckling. After a few seconds to let the catcalls bloom into fuck you city, he adds, "The set runs exactly 15 minutes, which may be all the fame they deserve, so you poseurs who want to form a punk band, this handle might be available tomorrow. Help them live up to their lame name! The Quitters!"

We scramble onto the stage, no one's pissed about the intro, he's an ex-standup comedian and only talks that way if he likes you. The sarcasm helps a new band, it lowers expectations, and in this scene, hate's kinda like love. There's no time to introduce band members, but someday no one will need to hear my name, Nym, to know who's up there. I’m nervous, I should have brought my good luck tiger.

Jem begins to diddle around with the "Smoke On The Water" riff to warm up, but stops when Hydie, the drummer, throws a drum stick at his back and hisses, "Hey, quit beatin' off and watch for the cue!" She turns to me and says, "Stay close so you can hear the drums, OK, and remember to set your amp at six?" Hydie's like my older sister, and can get bossy. I smile back and nod, my amp's set to nine, and she's going to be so pissed, but I can't hear shit at six.

We blast into the first number of a six song set, a fast one called "Bambi Sucks," and the electric fog rolls in, the dense curtain of sound that turns everyone into mutes who mouth words, but nothing comes out. People think the band hears the same thing they do, which we don't. It's more like our gig at Foothill JC last month, a big sheet of white noise, where I could barely make out my guitar and some of the snare drum, with the vocals sounding like indistinct babbling in the background.

Everyone up front just stands there, no slam dancing for Bambi I guess. The title seemed funnier in practice. I'm turned up so loud that I can only hear my bass. There's no sound check for a band that's fourth on the bill, so the Sound Guy will adjust the balance as we play, assuming he gives a shit.

Our leader is a Blond surfer type who goes by the name Roder. He wanted me to wear a fishnet tee tonight, but I told him to do it himself. I'm flooby and it's too Urban Cowboy, so he went ahead and did it. The sight of his navel wiggling around like an orange in a net sack is gnarly but pretty tame stuff here in North Beach. Makes me wince to see it, so I don't look.

The first song's almost over, but Roder's yelling at me, his face contorted with rage. Why waste that energy on me? There's a packed house full of tourists, fans, and posers, all desperate to be despised. Oh, OK, now I see, he's trying to yell out instructions, twirling his right hand as the signal for whatever, then shuffles over and screams in my ear, "Keep repeating the verse! I'm cutting out the next song!"

What's Surf Dude thinking? He wants to keep playing a song about Bambi? The crowd must be wondering what the fuck he's doing, he's forgetting where we are. I glance at Jem and Hydie, and can tell they haven't seen the signal. Quill, the other vocalist, is singing the last verse, so I shake my head. I'll finish with the rest of the group. We can argue about it later. Roder's not used to high volume work. You can't shout over the amps and PA, he's wasted precious seconds of vocal time, and we're not pausing till after the next song.

We're two minutes in, I hope it gets better.

Episode two continues here…

- Al HANDA

deltasnake@yahoo.com

BE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE DELTA SNAKE REVIEW ON THIS SAME SITE!

Here's an update on each of my Vella books:

The Quitters

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B09PC3L6PC

I, Ivy

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0B3RCBT4D

The Forbidden Lost Gospels Of Murgatroyde

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJ2TW4P1

The Boogie Underground Think Tank: How To Survive The End Of Civilization

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BG6LNXTG

The Adventures Of Queen Khleopahtra: Ruler Of Egypt, Time Traveler, and Literary Detective

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJC122G7

In the latest episodes, we meet Achilles and the poet Homer, who will become recurring characters!

- Al Handa

October 2022

ontheroadwithalandiivy@yahoo.com

The ebook “On The Road With Al & Ivy: The Anthology Volume 1 2016-2018 is now on Kindle Unlimited!

I’ll run free promotions later this month, but members can read it for free now.

I Can Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw International). F IPlease check out and listen to Mark McGraw’s Christmas single from his album on Bandcamp,Can

Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw Intern

https://markmcgraw.bandcamp.com/album/songs-from-southern-pacific-spur-46

Please check out and listen to my music on Spotify, YouTube, Apple Music and other music sites. Please add any cuts you like to your playlists!

Boogie Underground Media Presents: Special Preview! Episode 1 of On the Road With Al And Ivy: The Novel (Book 1)

Special Preview: This is the full first episode of the Vella Serial Novel reprinted here. If you enjoy this sample, please check out episode 2 & 3 at this link. Both are free to read. There are 16 chapters live now, and the serial will be actively updated in January 2023.

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/episode/B0BMLTB9NM

ON THE ROAD WITH AL & IVY: THE NOVEL (BOOK 1)

Episode One: Prelude: March 2016

It's a crisp, clear night in the coffee house parking lot. Ivy and I finish our walk, and since there's no hurry to get back to the car, we sit on a curb and look up at the stars.

It's time for Ivy's astronomy lesson. She loves hearing my descriptions of celestial formations with names like steak, macaroni, and cheese and her favorite, baked chicken. The textbook names are gone now, along with my old life that died on a cold February night when we hit the road with whatever would fit into an old Cadillac.

"See where the big steak is, Ivy?" I'd say, "Off to the right of the Big Chili Cheese Dog (formally known as the North Star), you'll probably get there before me."

I put my hand on her furry head and add, "Wait for me up there, and I'll join you soon; my time on earth will be a blink of an eye where you'll be." Ivy nods, still looking up at the steak and hamburgers in the sky, and begins to hum, her sound for agreement, and I say, "I'll look forward to telling you how the rest of my life went."

Ivy wags her tail, her biggest smile, and as we head back to the car, I pray that I'll be around for the rest of her life... don't want to miss that.

Our friendship is no longer a world of man-made constructs and roles; to obey commands, do tricks, and amuse. Instead, I realized that we both peer into the same life and give her the same right to live it as any human. We navigate as a pack, a family, and give each other the love we lost when the past turned dark and died. As Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "Home is where you love."

An Opening Similitude...

The kind night beckons, and I enter until the morning sun melts away the dark sea I drift in.

- Jook Manuscript Excerpt (June 1986)

Arrival: June 2016

Gilroy in July is a hot, dusty rural town full of summer trouble, a homeless paradise full of blind spots from the police who have their hands full dealing with illegal fireworks, tweakers, parking lot parties, and overheated tourists.

It's the summer of 2016. I arrive around nine, well after dark, but the day's heat hasn't fully faded. It's still 80 degrees and very humid. I usually don't think in terms of names or places. "Here" is just this or that parking lot or Street. I'm part of the homeless herd, who could care less if the people are friendly or if there's a history. We look for fleeting seams that open up in the fabric of society to hide in and move on when it closes. The feeling of movement, of wandering, soothes the sting of being homeless, which is felt at every stop.

But tonight, I know where I am, in Gilroy, the "Garlic Capitol Of The World," a town I hadn't seen in decades and barely recognize because of the new shopping centers and business parks that cover what used to be farmland. This place, if it were a living, breathing thing, would hardly recognize me either. Part of my childhood was spent next door in San Martin, a farm town full of talking animals and brave toy soldiers who protected fearful little babes like me and told me that the future was full of possibilities and adventure.

I'm now an old man of sixty-four, one year from retirement. There are no toy soldiers to protect me, and the future I was told about, well, it came and went and left me in an uncertain present. At least fate left me a talking animal, Ivy, who must be wondering now what kind of man she's hitched her star to.

I know what I see here, though, even in the dark. It's a side road called Gleemon. There are two areas to be aware of; the Street and adjacent lots and the chain link fence that runs along the levee road for Miller Slough and the back area of the Big Dupermart store. That's the border of the known world. Once past it, there's the pitch-black void inhabited by druggies, runaways, and "backpackers," who have camps and open-air crash pads along the dirt road that connects with the south fork of a river, orchards and the water pumping station next to a Highway.

The Street has a secret. It's technically a court, but it's also the main delivery entrance for SuperMart. The store and the city claim it belongs to the other, so neither will kick the homeless off it because whoever does will own the Street and all its problems. Also, truckers who arrive ahead of schedule park and sleep there unless they prefer to go to the truck stop-motel a couple of miles to the north. Most don't because the services for out-of-towers will gladly come to them.

So there's plenty of vehicles parked here, twenty-four hours a day. That makes it a seam to hide in. The old timers in RVs only stay for short periods; they prefer the frontage road on the other side of the freeway, away from streetlights, generator noise, and sounds of fights, or to go to a private place to chew each other up after being cooped up for years in small, crowded boxes on wheels.

It's good manners not to stay in one place too long anyway. So most move along a circuit of four, maybe five locations, which keeps them out of the cop's hair and away from the idiots who camp in a place until kicked out for doing some silly-ass thing or another.

My own list of havens are identified by geographic features; the parking lot of the Hispanic grocery, the south end of the Big Dupermart lot, and Gleemon Street. That's only three; if I have to keep moving, I head south down Highway 101 to Salinas or north up 280 to the Crystal Springs rest stop.

I haven't bothered to learn any other street names, but I know the terrain better than any resident. This area averages 90 degrees during the summer. I know where the best shade is and at what time. It's like reading a sundial. I know the free wifi coverage of every parking lot as if it were marked out with spray paint, how to tell when it's safe for the homeless to park, and where each subculture that lives here is centered. Each group has transit routes as busy as any street, and it's best to park well away from those unmarked paths.

Ivy, my little white shitzu friend, and I sit in the car and just watch. We function as one person. Ivy handles hearing and smell, and I've learned to trust her, particularly at night when trouble seems to come out of nowhere.

It's still too hot, but open windows draw attention and turn me into a "face," someone to approach. Since my anxiety meds ran out, I keep the boogieman at bay with tried and true remedies like nervous tics, pulling an earlobe, or twisting hair into string. It helps me to sit still, able to wait until the night reveals what's going on. You never go right to sleep, ever.

In nature, the night is the most dangerous time, when half of the world sleeps, and the rest hunts. The night is an ageless God like the sea, an elemental force that's merciless if you don't respect it, yet it shelters and protects the lost, rejected, and trapped from everything but themselves.

If a night hunter has a beef with you, there's no fuss or fight. They just wait until you go to sleep to kick ass. That's why there's so much activity at night; for many of the homeless, particularly the elderly and loners, it's safer to wait until early morning to shelter and sleep, so they keep moving aimlessly like sleepwalkers with their packs or shopping carts until the safe stillness comes around 4 am.

I can't do that with a car; it's not practical to drive all night. I have to try and get some rest. You can't sleep in the 90-degree heat that starts at nine in the morning. I'll risk a short nap parked under shade, but if I get careless and sleep too long, the shade moves, and I can wake up to a dead dog. It's better not to nap at all, but after five months of lousy sleep, I either steal a snooze now and then or risk hallucinating due to sleep deprivation.

That happened up north a month ago. I came to a dead stop at two in the morning on Interstate 280 because I thought a bunch of trees had come down and blocked the freeway, and I was nearly rear-ended by several cars. I had to force myself to keep driving even though the road appeared to end at the edge of a cliff. Oddly enough, the headlong charge into the void was a peaceful moment, like I welcomed death. After that, I quit screwing around with trying to stay in motion all night.

I study the people who walk along the fence and duck into some bushes next to a small grove of trees. That's where the hole is, the north entrance into the levee. Three young men arrive, pushing mountain bikes, part of a gang of feral Droogs that makes most of its money as low-level drug runners. That gets my full attention, as they'll attack and rob other homeless unless the dealer is there to hold them off. If those sociopaths were hopped up and coming out to hunt instead of going in, it'd be time to scoot.

Two young women arrive next, pausing a moment before going in. One is a redhead I call "Sign Girl" and a skinny blond in a long hippie-type dress called "Raspberry." They stop talking and enter with their flashlights turned off, a smart move when chemically impaired men are around.

The unwritten rule is to avoid using any lights or lighting open fires on that side of the fence. The city owns the area, and any sign of a camp will be checked out by the cops, not to mention attracting the attention of everyone around. How they know it's safe to enter is an instinct that develops quickly after the first assault, or if they're lucky, attempted assault.

A patrol car approaches, and a blinding white light suddenly turns night into day. I close my eyes, slowly put my hands on the steering wheel and wait for the searchlight beam to move on to the next car. It doesn't, and now enough sirens are wailing to drown out the RV and truck generators. Cops rarely hold a beam in your face. There's a hot flash of fear as I realize they're checking faces.

They're looking for somebody!

STORY CONTINUES IN EPISODE 2

- Al HANDA

deltasnake@yahoo.com

BE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE DELTA SNAKE REVIEW ON THIS SAME SITE!

Here's an update on each of my Vella books:

The Quitters

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B09PC3L6PC

I, Ivy

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0B3RCBT4D

The Forbidden Lost Gospels Of Murgatroyde

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJ2TW4P1

The Boogie Underground Think Tank: How To Survive The End Of Civilization

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BG6LNXTG

The Adventures Of Queen Khleopahtra: Ruler Of Egypt, Time Traveler, and Literary Detective

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJC122G7

In the latest episodes, we meet Achilles and the poet Homer, who will become recurring characters!

- Al Handa

October 2022

ontheroadwithalandiivy@yahoo.com

The ebook “On The Road With Al & Ivy: The Anthology Volume 1 2016-2018 is now on Kindle Unlimited!

I’ll run free promotions later this month, but members can read it for free now.

I Can Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw International). F IPlease check out and listen to Mark McGraw’s Christmas single from his album on Bandcamp,Can

Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw Intern

https://markmcgraw.bandcamp.com/album/songs-from-southern-pacific-spur-46

Please check out and listen to my music on Spotify, YouTube, Apple Music and other music sites. Please add any cuts you like to your playlists!