House Speaker Boener Retires

Sept 27, 2015

The speaker of the house is retiring. After years of trying to advance a republican agenda through compromise with an uncompromising President, he is giving up his speakership to another, yet to be named. Another who, with possibly more vision and foresight enough to make progress under the current presidential burden. He gives up his leadership, making the ultimate sacrifice, in hopes that another can carry the flag of our country toward victory against the ugly dragon of socialism.

He is disappointed that the backlash to an oppressive White House is the Tea Party . He has grown tired and no longer wants to fight the good fight but to relinquish power to those who eagerly will.  What he fails to see is a right wing answer to a left wing agenda. Khrushchev said while pounding his shoe on the podium long ago that capitalism will fall from within.  Khrushchev understood the mentality of those great unwashed , palms up, willing to lie on their backs, legs spread, looking for the nirvana of a belly rub. The Tea Party sallies forth in the face of that prediction. It recognizes the fate of us in our forbearers: Europe. America does not stand for handouts, the welfare of  lazy masses at the expense of the few, struggling with everyday challenges toward the American Dream.  I’m trying to be academic, to convince you I’m a member of the intelligencia. In truth I’ve never understood the mentality of liberalism. There are those who are long past coming of age, working for a living and paying taxes, obeying the law whose hearts bleed for the lazy, good-for-nothing, the-world-owes me a living Worthless. Like country boy Guber who feels life is less than  complete unless surrounded by the  stench and baying of hounds and barking mutts through the night.  What if we could round all the good-for-nothings up and put them in cradle to grave concentration camps. Instead of tax draining welfare payments, just round them up into one section of the country. Like a reservation with an un-ending supply of McDonalds hamburgers, pizza, alcohol and drugs. What would the liberals argument be then? “imprisoning the poor, jack heel on the weak”, they would cry. While the hue from the reservation might be: “No no! Go away. We are happy. Enough . Please stop saving us from the oppression of Capitalism.“ Whoa! Welcome to Valhalla. The meaningful can go on happily about their getting while paying a fraction of what it is costing them under the present circumstance. Of course the liberal left would never stand for this. It would be the end of them with the reservation solidly in the Tea Party’s camp. The workers and unwashed together would be voting Republican.

Kleening up Killeen

Kleening up Killeen

An alley in downtown Killeen, Tx.

Good morning losers! Wake up. I know it’s early but I have great news for all of you. Your bottles are empty. You are looking around wondering where the next one is coming from.

You are all wondering why I’m here! I am here to change your lives. All of you;

Near-do-wells, used up prostitutes, failed pimps, drunken sots and violent louts who have taken the easy way out somewhere along your path in life and wound up living in this alley.

I’m from Kleening up Killeen committee. That’s right: Kleen Killeen Streets and Alleys is our motto. I am here to entice you into a better life.

Whoa! You there , sneaking out the back. Come back I’m not through yet. An extra cup of wine for any two of you that drags him back. Good. Hey! I don’t have a cup so I will just pour it into this rag here and toss it over to you. Here you go!!

Now. As I was saying. Before I am through I am sure that you will agree with me that there is a better life awaiting you outside of this trash strewn alley. I’m talking about three hots and a cot. I’m talking about liquor and drugs and lots of it. I’m talking about spending more time drunk and less time working than you are doing now. Sound interesting? Hear me out! This is for your benefit as well as mine. After you leave I’ll clean out the rest of the garbage from these alleys and we will all be happier and better off.

Now I’m not gonna paint pie in the sky for you. You will have to work, but you work now. I’m talking about 15 cents an hour. How many dumpsters do you have to scour before you can make enough for a half gallon of Ripple. No longer will you have to wander the streets pushing a heavy shopping cart. No more begging for handouts.

Turds and Germs , uhh Ladies and gents; how far do you wander from your resident alleys? I bet not far at all. As a matter of fact your territory from the time you venture out in the morning till you stumble back after earning enough for a quart of Thunderbird at night is probably not more than a couple of blocks. You have created a prison for yourselves. The prison you have created hardly benefits you at all.

You can’t get out of the prison you live in. That is a fact of life. Many of you don’t want to. So how about changing the prison you are in for a better one. Somewhere where you are fed and kept warm in the winter. In my prison there is tv, lounge chairs, ping pong tables, and lots and lots of Eldeberry wine. Face it. The bottom line is more wine and drugs. Prison is where you want to be…just not this one, and if you maintain your current lifestyle you won’t have to worry about having to be anyone’s girlfriend.

Yes! I’m saying go to prison. You say why and I say why not! In prison you will get yourself a raise. Did you know that there are more drugs and alcohol than there is out here on the streets. Think of it. 15 cents an hour 8 hours a day. That’s $1.20 per day. How many cans you have to gather to earn that? I know most of you would rather drink than eat. In prison you can sell your meals. That’s right. Instead of the mushed up half a dumpster hamburger that sustains you now you can keep your free food or sell it—for cash that will buy more Gallo.

Now the working part. You are all afraid of it I know. No worries! No matter where you go in prison there are free drinks. If you are assigned to the janitorial staff there is Lysol. The Maintenance shop: Paint thinner.. and they supply the bread that you can squeeze it through for free!! What a deal. Does it get any better than this?? Just think of what you have been missing all these years. You are wasting your lives outside of prison!

Ok. How to get there. This takes some strategy. What you need to realize is that there are different terms for different offenses. The best way without a doubt is armed robbery. You go on out there and stick someone up. Make sure that you do it right in front of a police officer..Hey! Stick up the police officer. Or better yet. Walk right into a bank and yell. THIS IS A STICKUP! You don’t have a gun you say. YOU DON’T NEED ONE! All you have to do is make someone think you have one. Putting someone in fear of their lives is a felony. Shazzam! Its Miller time!!

Ok. In anticipation of the high demand for this idea I have made up a bunch of papermache’ pistols and painted them black. Believe me You point it at someone they will think it’s the real thing. It worked for Billy the Kid and it will work for you. It works especially well on police officers so no pointing it at Police Officers. They have real guns. If the need to rob a police officer overcomes you then just walk up and say: "Officer. I have a gun in my pocket and if you don't give me all your money I will shoot you. It’s best to attempt this with both hands already raised.

Ok. Come on up here and get your pistols. Hey! One at at time. Hey. Stop shoving. Ok. You want two. Now that shows initiative! That’s the spirit. Stick up two at a time. You will go far my man!

In conclusion one bit of advice. Use your remaining brain cells to best advantage. Consider the alternatives. Look down the road a piece. What if after a few years in the slammer you change your mind. Armed robbery with a paper gun may get you 8 years, at the end of which, you may decide to clean up and start paying taxes. You can do that. Leave that option open. Now stupid is as stupid does. That idiot that shot the lady in San Francisco doesn't have any options other than to top himself because he will never see the light of day again, or worse yet, get deported to Mexico again.

Ok. Action time. Hey why not show some of your new found business sense and cut out the middle man. Go directly to the steps of the courthouse and start sticking up people. I don’t expect to see any of you back here so I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling a frontend loader and dump truck for your belongings. What’s that? No. Don’t waste time thanking me. You guys are great. I love you.

The Promotion

The Promotion

by Chuck

Last night’s nightmare  has roots in fears of long-ago work experiences. I used to get fired a lot. Once I got too close to the bosses wife and once I was hired in the first place to be fired because of a company’s project being behind schedule and they were looking for a turkey to blame it on. Gobble gobble, so on more than a few occasions I ended up walking down the road mumbling to myself.  Rarely did I ever get fired for cause. Ok once. After showing up late for work one day on a job I hated anyway, the boss yelled across the room at me, within hearing distance of everyone on the crew: ‘What time is it Michael?’ Not really believing he would be dumb enough to open himself up like that my response of:  ‘ You are wearing a wristwatch, Didn’t they cover telling time on the GED?’ Got me mercifully,  fired for insubordination. Hooray. On my next job interview that company showed up as ‘ fired for cause’. Ok. I eliminated that job on my resume and filled in the blank with some other lame job that couldn’t be verified. Never having been career oriented, leaving over 50 jobs for one reason or another never hampered either my conscience or pocketbook. One day I even quit to go surfing for the afternoon. Eventually I did run in to a career that I did care about, but the employers in that business are noted for bending, stretching and breaking rules for profit sake. The trouble is that they aren’t the ones that will be taking the heat. It’s the pilot’s license at stake, not their backsides for lack of a paper trail of verbal directions. ‘Hey, go out there, fly this way and do this and that.’ If you kill yourself or lose your license, they hire up another pilot. If you wreck their airplane and kill yourself they buy another plane with the insurance money and their new pilot flies that plane straight over your smoking carcass. So I got fired from a few and quit a few more but walked away with a clear conscience, flying license intact, but more importantly: vertical.

 

Conscience clear, vertical and smugly so, but it has to wear on a person, a history such as mine. The thought materializes occasionally: Who's trying to get rid of me? Who has a brother-in-law that wants my job? Is the boss going to turn out to be a jerk?  Always on any new job I like to start off playing the game: Where is HE? Or Where’s the jerk? (read 'Surrounded by Jerks' )Terminology changed slightly to protect the family readers here.  Where is the jerk? Because he is always there, boss or not, who is mired in jerk-ability.  Some tortured soul, unhappy at home or with life and eager to share his misery with anyone within range. It never mattered that much till I got my current gig, going on almost 8 years; longer than any previous job. Still, there is always that murky thought: Who and how are they going to get rid of you? In the back of my mind the thought that some boss or super is trying to get rid of me; lots of people out of work. The sinecure I’ve fallen into here presents a ready target for some managers’ unemployed son, brother-in-law, friend, wife, whoever. Indeed, always alert for any devious maneuvers, there have been initial gambits, exploratory management missions so to speak. I am however, unlike any of my prior employments, protected by a number of company policy circuit breakers. My ‘where’s the jerk’ game has revealed a number of them in this job, but any attempt on their part, short of my giving them what I would give them if we were logging together in the woods instead of this sterilized milquetoast corporate environment, is simply referred to a higher level. Now they can be a jerk to my supervisor, who, by the way, is a jerk. That tactic is sanctioned by company policy. It’s in the employee handbook! Whoaa!! The thought is still there though, meandering around in the recesses of my subconscious. “Who wants my job?” So here’s last nights nightmare.  

The Pointy Haired Boss, my department head, who, I have always suspected has a number of unemployed friends, in his typical , minimalist manner sent me an email. “my office, now” “What’s up Boss?” Optimistically leaving the door open as I walked in.  His secretary shows up with coffee as he is opening his mouth. She hands me a cup and congratulates me on my promotion. ‘What? Promotion?

‘That’s right’ Pointy Haired Boss chirps with a rare smile on his face. “Congratulations, You’ve been promoted.” I’m flabbergasted.  “ I’m not sure I want to be promoted”, I reply. “Well, he says, The next step up from your helpdesk job is bus mechanic.  Hey! It’s half the pay but twice the prestige. You should be happy. You are to report to the School bus depot tomorrow morning. “No. I don’t accept the promotion.  I said. I like it where I’m at sitting on my butt, clicking a mouse. No promotion.” “Sorry, but it is against policy not to accept a promotion.”, Pointy Haired Boss smiles back. “See. Here it is in the employee handbook.” “That’s written in cursive.” I say. “Someone just wrote that in.” “That’s my signature so it makes it official”, PHB  retorts.  “No”, I respond. “I don’t know the first thing about working on school busses.” “Hey”, PHB says. “You will be in a true learning situation starting at ground zero.” PHB reaches for the phone. “ Our busses are high tech. The head grease monkey down there is expecting you at 7. I’m gonna tell him how glad you are to be working on school busses. With your technical background, you will be a tremendous asset.” PHB can hardly contain his happiness for me. He is beside himself with glee.

At that point, I woke up in a sweat, terrified, looking into the semi-darkness, dawning that it was a dream. Still, I’m wary of any ominous emails offering unique opportunities from management.

 

HIKE!

HIKE!

by Chuck

While pursuing my education at San Diego State I lived in a small duplex in a remote canyon by the hospital. I forget which hospital but as I was puttering around outside one day I saw a man and his son pulling a sailboat from a garage just down the street. Having not a lot to do that day I meandered down and asked them about their boat. “It’s a Lightning. She’s skittish in the water but fast.”  Having done a little sailing in the San Diego State sailing club I inquired further and finally he said: “We’re going sailing today on San Diego Bay. Want to come?” I jumped at the chance for a day on the water, a welcome break from the rigors of working full time and attending college. We launched the boat from a ramp on Shelter Island and sailed in a light breeze out into the bay.

The sails of a number of other boats were visible in the distance. As we drew closer I remember remarking to myself how similar they looked to the one we were on. I inquired again and the captain said that they were all Lightnings and today we were joining the Regatta for a race. It was going to get intense, he explained, because the designer of the class was sailing in the race. I never knew how competitive people can be trying to make the slowest vehicle on the planet go fast. Life lesson approaching.  We sailed around in circles near the starting line waiting for the sound of the start gun. “ Everyone on a boat has a job.” Explained the skipper. “Jonnie’s job here is to trim the jib, change sails and work the daggerboard, mine is to trim the mainsail and steer the boat.” He looked intently at me as if anticipating my next inquiry.

“What’s my job?”  I asked innocently. Had I a hint of the pain to come I would have jumped overboard and swum back to the dock.  “Your job is to hike. You see those straps there? You place your feet under them and lean out over the gunwale on which ever side I tell you.” Ok. I thought. That doesn’t sound too complicated. “Starboard side hike is what I will say when you need to hike on the right side of the boat, and port side hike when I want you to hike over the left gunwale, and try to stay out of Jonnie’s way as he is working the dagger board. You can anticipate it because every time I tack you will have to change sides. A starboard tack is when the wind is blowing toward the right side of the boat. the boat will be leaning to the left. I need to counteract this and bring the boat back to as near vertical as I can get it. That’s why you hike.”  The boom in the distance sounded and I wondered at the sight of each boat simultaneously aligning as if members of a school of fish, swimming toward the starting line. “We’re running down wind but will soon tack to the first marker, that white buoy way out there, see it? “  Relaxing on the gunwale, ever prepared to participate with my first hike, I stared across the water to see the buoy.” Oh yeah. I see it.”  “Ok when we round the buoy Jonnie will put the daggerboard down and you hike on the starboard side so you are already in position. Just to be clear; on a starboard tack you hike on the right side of the boat. The wind will always be blowing from behind you.” As we rounded the buoy I was shocked by the intensity of his yelling. “HIKE!.HIKE! NOW you fool! HIKE.” I jerked my head to look at him and the expression on his face was really mean glaring at me and scanning the position of the nearest boat. Attila the Hun would have been envious. I’m sure I saw a hint of green slime dripping from his lower lip. “HIKE! Further! You’re not leaning out far enough! Hike further damn you!”

After another hour of intense hiking and cursing while sailing abeam Captain Bligh says: “Jonnie. Break out those sandwiches.” Jonnie secured the genoa sheet to the cleat, broke out sandwiches and cokes from the cooler. “Finally! A break”. I thought to myself. As I started to reposition from the hike. “WE’RE STILL IN THE RACE OR HAVEN’T YOU NOTICED?  HIKE!” I’m hiking and they’re eating lunch, him fanging his sandwich ferociously like a puma on a recent kill, scanning the position of the other boats with fire in his eyes.  Another hour of really intense pain saw the finish line. We placed 3rd. I was never so relieved to see the end of something and swore that my sailboat racing days were over. Blackbeard’s demeanor on the way to the dock transmogrified from Mr. Hyde back to Dr. Jekel. “Hey. That was a great race. Let’s do it again. I’ll look you up the next race. Ok?” He spoke in a gentle and empathic voice. He was all of a sudden normal again. “Ok. We came in third but that was your first hiking experience in a Lightning. Next time I’m sure we will do better now that you know how to hike. “

“Oh sure, I thought. All my fault we didn’t win the race. For crap sake! Yeah sure” I nodded. “Today was a free day but most of the time I’m really busy working full time and going to school, and then there is my volunteer work at the hospital. “ My mind was racing for more excuses but the expression on his face signaled that I didn’t possess the blood of a Lightening Sailor. After we wheeled the boat back into the garage Jonnie , who was about 12, told me privately that his father really was a nice guy and he just gets carried away sometimes when he is sailing. I really admired the kid for sticking up for his father, but told him not to expect to see me anywhere around any more Lightening Regattas, Lightning Sailors or even tv shows of sailboat races any time in the foreseeable future. The fear of meeting another Lightning Sailor still challenges a good night’s sleep.

     

Unexplained Absence

I had a dream of a lady I work with. She was absent from work one morning with no call in, which was quite unlike her.  Not a long dream. Just her standing by a launch pad in a space suit instead of being at her desk at KISD.  With Jacqueline its family first, then work. A few of the story lines refer to private jokes so this story is dedicated to her.

Unexplained Absence

By Chucky

Houston Galaxy one. We have a problem. We are leaking a fluid of some sort into the oxygen rebreather system. Haven’t determined exactly what it is or where it is coming from. We noticed a peculiar odor upon waking up this morning. We’ll keep you informed.

What does it smell like? Can you describe it by anything you have smelled before Galaxy One.

Negatory Houston. We are investigating and will get back to you.

Houston Galaxy One. This is beginning to smell like trouble. We haven’t much time before the atmosphere becomes infected with some serious pollution. If it’s a software problem you had better get Two Shoes up here fast. We don’t have onsite knowledge. She’s the only one who can fix it.

Ahh Roger that Galaxy One. We are in process of deploying the Asset. Since it is early on we may be able to reach her before she is on her way to get her kids off to school, vacation in Denton with her husband, personal business, work or any one of the myriad of her usual excuses. We’re dialing her now.

Hello, this is Jacqueline.                                                                                                                                                             

Two Shoes Houston here. We have a Galaxy One phase One high priority code red  emergency.

“Houston Two Shoes. Switching to encrypted mode. Wait one. ..Houston Two shoes on encrypted channel 3-4 How do you read?”

We read you five by Two Shoes. How us?

Houston Two Shoes reading you 5by. State the nature of the emergency.

We have an unknown software bug, possibly a worm that got through the filter, that has emerged on Galaxy One . It looks like it is manifesting itself in interfering with the O2 discombobulation Compressor Module.

Houston Twoshoes. That’s possibly a fault controlling the sewage gas overboard recombobulation 3rd state evacuator cycle. That is serious.

Twoshoes Houston. We need you up there for an immediate repair. They do not have anyone with knowledge on site.

Houston Twoshoes. I am currently on my way to deliver my kids to school and also planning a vacation with my Husband in Denton, Texas and then there is personal business I have to attend to. I’ll try to squeeze some…..

Twoshoes Houston. WE NEED YOU UP THERE ASAP. NONE OF YOUR USUAL LAME EXCUSES. THIS IS SERIOUS. THOSE GUYS ARE BREATHING SEWER GAS AND TIME IS LIMITED. IF YOU DON’T GET UP THERE AND SOON THERE WON’T BE ANYONE ALIVE TO RESCUE.

TWOSHOES. THIS IS GENERAL FLABBERGHAST. I WANT YOU TO DROP WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING AND PROCEED IMMEDIATELY TO FT. HOOD FOR IMMEDIATE TAKEOFF TO HOUSTON.

TWOSHOES…YOU READ ME!!?

Yessir. I read you. I will drop the kids off at the nearest bus stop and email my boss that I will be late for work. I hope I can get back in time for work. They get all nervous over there when I’m late for work. As a matter of fact when I’m not there…..

TWOSHOES FLABBERGHAST!! I DON’T CARE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SAD STORY AT KISD. WHAT I NEED IS YOU TO GET YOUR BUTT TO FT. HOOD AND FLYING YOUR T-38 TO HOUSTON ASAP!!! IS THAT CLEAR TWOSHOES?!!  

Twoshoes Houston again. Your aircraft is being preflighted and will be ready for departure when you arrive. WHICH I HOPE WILL BE SOON!!! We are preparing your rocket and spacesuit at this end to expedite your departure from Houston Pad 1 upon your arrival.

Roger Houston. I’m on my way. Eta 0812 I want to mention that I hope they can find a space suit that fits me.

“Ok kids I’m going to have to drop you off here. There’s a bus stop around here somewhere. Here is 3 dollars. Just ask around if you can’t find it.

“but Mom. How do we know what bus to catch? We don’t even know where the bus stop is.”

“Whatever! You’ll be ok. You two need to start growing up. The world is going socialist, Putin is in the Ukraine, The Pope is in front of Congress badmouthing capitalism , our astronauts are breathing sewer gas and you two are crying because you don’t know where the bus stop is. Let me tell you a thing about ..

Twoshoes Flabberghast. Are you there yet?

“Not yet General. I am finding it necessary to administer additional parenting to my kids because they don’t know how to catch a bus. I’m telling them how lucky they are to live in this great nation of ours and how ashamed they should be because our astronauts are breathing sewer gas and all they are worried about is finding their way to school. In addition I am also explaining that….”

TWOSHOES!! GET ON THAT PLANE!!

“Roger General. On my way.”

She slams the door and zooms off in the direction of Ft. Hood. In the rearview mirror her kids are making hand gestures and looking awkwardly around.

She speed dials her husband. “John. Go get the kids. They are wandering around somewhere downtown..No I have personal business of the kind we never talk about to attend to and ….no no. forget about the Denton vacation for a while. I haven’t got time right now. Ok. Yes. Spaghetti for dinner tonight. I’ll hit the grocers when I get back. No lets not talk about where I’m going right now…ok if you must know it’s about 350 miles away then another 350. Call you when I get back.

“I haven’t got time for this. What with dropping my kids off in a strange neighborhood, planning our Denton vacation, spaghetti for dinner, late for work.  Still..Ok. Refocus on the mission. Hope I can get back in time for the afternoon leg. Then shopping, plan for Denton, look for John and the kids.”

Upon pulling into her reserved parking space she sees her plane sitting on the ramp. Commanding General Echelon1 has the third space. General ‘Bomber’ Hankeyjammer, Special Presidential Envoy the second and the one closest to the ramp: simply named “TWOSHOES”.  ‘Who is Twoshoes’ is an occasional topic of conversation at upper level staff meetings. The answer: classified.

Habitually she grabbed her ‘dighty bag’ then hesitated, gave herself a resigned eye roll and tossed it back toward the car as she ran toward the jet. “we’ve got the plane pre-flighted ma’mn and its all ready to go fueled for Houston. We’ve filed your flight plan. Here is your pressure suit. As soon as you are seated we’ll get the start cart plugged in for engine start on your signal. “

Climbing into the cockpit , the flight suit snagged on the canopy latch. She reached back and unhooked it. As the start cart began spinning up she hit the canopy switch and pulled on her helmet, plugged into the mic jack and pulled on her oxygen mask. She gave the thumbs up to the lineman and when the start cart light turned green she initiated start sequence. Master Switch on. The engine instruments came alive. She looked for oil pressure and N1 the rpm of the first stage compressor. When it indicated 10% she flipped  the ignitors on and heard their ‘tick tick tick…’ anticipating the familiar rumble of twin J85-5 engine ignition. After listening to automated airport information she dialed the ground frequency into her UHF and hand signaled the lineman to disconnect the power cart.

“Ft. Hood ground. T-38 NinerZeroFourFife with bravo Hangar 2 taxi.”

“Ah roger 9045 taxi to the runup area , hold short for the 747 exiting the active”

“Ground niner zero four five cleared to taxi hold short for the 747”

She completed her runup and airframe flight control checks.

“Ft. Hood ground, niner zero four fife ready for takeoff”

“9045 ground contact tower 295.8.”

“Ft. Hood tower . T-38 9045 IFR Houston”

“9045 Tower you are cleared for immediate takeoff runway 30 , altimeter 2994, squwak 4035, immediate right turn after departure heading 185 contact departure control 298.6.”

“Cleared for departure runway 30, altimeter 2994, sqwak 4035 immediate right turn heading 185 departure 2 niner eight point 8 9045. “

The aircraft accelerated down the runway with full power. After the right turn to 185 magnetic she dialed in the UHF frequency for departure control.

“Niner zero four fife climb and maintain flight level 370. You are cleared to Houston Space Port direct”

The flight at 37000 feet was smooth. The ground moved almost motionless below her. She turned her attention to troubleshooting the software for the O2 reconbobulation module. She forced any distracting thoughts of her kids looking for a bus stop, her husbands Denton vacation, spaghetti shopping and additional personal business from her mind.

Twenty minutes later she contacted Houston Approach for landing. “Houston Approach T-38 9045 Angels 37 full stop Houston Space Port.

“Niner zero four fife Houston Approach good morning. Descend and maintain eight tousand  heading 175 hold at Charlie Foxtrot. Sqawk 4398 report the beacon outbound.

She reached for the throttles to begin her descent. The VSI needle swung to 3000 feet per minute. Upon reaching CF she made the turn and pressed the mic button on the top of her control stick.

“Houston Approach 9045 eight tousand beacon outbound.”

“Roger 9045 , altimeter 2998 expect runway 14 contact tower 276.4”

“Altimiter 2998, runway 14, tower 276.4, 9045”

Houston Space port tower T38 9045 CF outbound full stop .

“Ahh Roger 9045 you are cleared for the approach. Upon clearing the runway contact ground 334.7.”

Upon landing the ground crew rushed out to the aircraft. Put up the ladder and escorted her to the dressing area. Her frustration showed as she hesitated to unsnag her flight suit from the canopy latch.

“We are scheduled for rocket launch in 10 minutes”  As she suited up the faint sound in the main control room could be heard over the preflight briefing she was being given by the launch coordinator.  “T minus 9 minutes and counting. Launch on schedule.” As she climbed out of her flight suit and into her space suit. ”This flight suit is too large. They are all too large. I could stuff a pillow in here and still have room left over. It’s just too much flight suit. Even when I’m pulling Gs and it inflates I can barely feel it. I almost passed out on my last check ride. “

She finished the launch briefing on the elevator.

“Can’t you get me a smaller space suit? I feel like I’m swimming in this thing. I can hardly walk without tripping over myself, and this fishbowl helmet…I have to fix spaghetti tonight. Have you called my boss yet?”

“Oh yeah. Call your boss. Sure email the boss. When you arrive be sure to don the oxygen mask before entering the pressure hold Agent Twoshoes. No telling what the density of the cabin atmosphere is. We can’t get an accurate estimate from the crew. They’re starting to sound giddy on the radio. Sewer gas has a strange and unpredictable effect on people, especially astronauts who are used to breathing purified air, not like what we have to breathe down here. There are no cows in space.  “

“Ok but I have to get word to KISD and tell them I may not be in till after lunch.”

“No sweat Twoshoes.  Yeah sure. Email kisd. “

Twoshoes contacted Houston after launch and initiated procedure for docking with Galaxy One. The space station orbiting 350 miles above her.

“Be sure to email my boss” at KISD were her last words before she switched frequency and contacted the space station.

“Ok yeah sure email your boss at ..Where was that we were supposed to email?”

“Hey. Anyone seen Jacqueline? “

“Dunno, maybe she’s at a campus. It’s 9 o’clock and not here. She isn’t on the calendar. Ask Cynthia. Maybe she called in sick. “

No word. Maybe she is at the other Data Center. Is today her turn to be down there? No, we checked and she’s not there. This is strange. She usually emails us with about 10 pages worth of explanations why she is going to be 5 minutes late.

“WHERE IS JACQUELINE? People are calling. There are students that can’t log in. filter requests. Trouble tickets for server issues. The department heads having a fit and doesn’t know what to do. Where is she? We have to find out where she is. She’s not here. Its very odd she’s not here with 40 pages of explanation as to her being tardy and how she is going to make up the time. We have to know. There is no email, no phone call no nothing. Call the police and report her missing. She’s maybe lying in the road hit by a truck. Call the hospital and tell them to wheel her over here. Where is she? Ohh. What are we going to do? We are in a real jam here. Oh! Yes. Denton. Maybe she’s in Denton again. She has relatives in Denton. Maybe she’s at church. Hey Yeah. Church. Maybe she is on one of her all day Wednesday church sabbaticals. No she only does them on Sunday , Tuesday, Fridays Saturdays, her birthday, her husbands’ birthday, his Army discharge anniversary,  fourth of July week, spring break, Memorial and Labor Days.  Does anyone have her home phone? Send someone out to her place. Maybe she was touring her property and got lost.

The true identity of special agent Twoshoes was never revealed. Due to her unrelenting devotion to duty and ability to simply vanish at a moment’s notice the nations’s space program was reinitiated and we no longer had to beg rides from the Ruskies. All NASA records of her existence are sealed in the archives. Although forever anonymous, she will remain in our hearts simply as Agent Twoshoes ; The Top Secret American Space cadet who led two lives; never failed to report ‘Mission accomplished’ and whose spacesuits were too large.