THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF CARTER EDWARDS: CHAPTER ONE CARTER BECOMES A BUSINESS TYCOON

I hope you, the reading audience remember Carter Edwards, our young man who seems to lose every battle his life encounters. Other Carter stories are in the files on 6/18 and 8/13.

For a young man whose name would never be found amongst the pages of "Who's Who Of Lucky People," Carter Edwards seemed to be on a roll. A month had passed since he acquired the giant hulk of a ‘72 Buick Electra from Webster McCarver. Much to everyone's dismay the enormous barge still ran. Carter, it seemed, never owned a car with a life expectancy over three or four days. With this Buick he discovered his own personal Nirvana.

The term "running" to folks about town had implications of exaggerations, but for Carter, making it up the driveway meant the car held promise–case closed. As of this day an inventory of missing parts from the date of purchase included one half of an exhaust system, a vent window, one headlight and a wheel cover. Whereas the car came equipped with dual exhaust, the Buick was only half as deafening as it could be. Other parts mysteriously seemed to come and go with no logical explanation.

Carter soon discovered owning a 455 cubic inch premium gas guzzling battleship came with a price–one he could scarcely afford. If this car continued to crawl up the driveway then Carter would have to undertake a new outlook on his life and find secure employment. Jobs were scarce in McComb county and the cards were stacked against him. You see, in order to stay regularly employed at the town's only good paying job at the Avalon Mill, one would work until huntin' season came about at which time he would lend his job to a kin, then after the season was over, the kin left and one would take his job back. This rollover continued throughout the year.

Folks like the Edwards never had relatives take employment serious, so chanceS of finding work was about as slim as a dime. Gramps once had a job Jeronsville keeping the schools furnace stoked, but early one morning he stoked a little to hard and burned the school down. The village never rebuilt the school. Fortunately the Mason jar containing his beverage went up with the flames and gramps never again held another legal job.

Pa too had a job in his late teens drivin' hootch for a bootlegger. That's how he made enough money to acquire the Edwards' homestead. After his ‘52 Ford coupe ran into Elmer Klauss's chicken truck around the notorious sharp bend on the North Highway, breaking pa's leg and messing up his shootin' arm, he never ran the Mason Jar Highway again. Ma had about 12 kids best she could recall, so a job never crossed her mind. So as you can see, gainful employment is a word never brought up in conversation around the Edwards' household.

With no scrap metal left to sell, Carter started to contemplate ways to keep gas in his Buick. Selling Gramp's Studebaker pickup came to mind, but rumors over in Bruford said Gramps had been spotted at the Sheriff station trying to convince them his blue-tick hound had been abducted by aliens. Pa thought someday the family oughta go see if they could go find gramps around town, but nobody really took the initiative to do so.

Carter sat on the front steps of their small shack that chilly November morning watching a few brave squirrels who overstepped the safety of the woods. His mind remained out of commision towards solving the mystery of landing a job. Carter could only process four steps in his mind–car, gas, job and girls, all three were needed and soon.

As he sat there plunking rocks off the tin roof of the wood shed, a wild turkey flew up from the thick brush surrounding their homestead. Carter bolted for the door to get the family shotgun when he suddenly stopped in his tracks as smitten by divine lightning.

"Turkeys, he thought. "It's purteneer turkey eatin' time, dagnabit. I know town folks will be wantin turkeys. I'll run over to Jaronsville and buy me a load of them turkeys, sell ‘em, take the money and buy me some more until I get everyone sold with turkeys."

With inspiration bitting at his heels, Carter ran over to gramp's tool shed, grabbed a can of red paint and carefully wrote out "Carters Fresh Turkeys, Inc,. on both doors of his Buick. He had no idea what Inc meant, but the Avalon Mill trucks had it on their door and by gosh, he to would have it.

In order to scratch up a little operating capital, Carter scrounged up everything of value he could find in gramp's tool shed plus a few treasures of his own and made a journey to Honest Jakes Pawn Shop in Bruford. Once there he laid down a hand saw, two chisels, his own transistor radio, an eight track player, a complete collection of Gene Pitney albums plus three Civil War heros carved from Ash wood. To complete his exchange he bravely laid down the title to his grandpas' Studebaker truck.

"Are you sure you want to pawn your grandpa's truck, young Mr Edwards," Jake asked cautiously. "You know what a beatin he will give yo if he ever found ought don't cha." Truth be known, Jake was afraid of gramps as much as his own grandson was.

Carter nervously took the crisp $100 bill plus the two fifties and headed for Jeronsville to invest gramps' Studebaker in his future and present business venture. Even the Buick seemed to run smoother than ever. Yes, Carter had a dream and the dream was coming into sight rather quickly.

A smell akin to rotten sweat socks from the 150,00 or so turkeys residing in or around Jeronsville reminded travelers this was turkey country. To Carter the retched odor smelled like money. He pulled into the ButterBody Turkey number 16 plant, walked up to the office with his wad of cash in hand and told the secretary he wanted as much Turkey as this money will buy.

The secretary looked at Carter who by now had the continence of a ghost. She took the money from his shaking hand, counted it out and asked if he wanted fresh, frozen, smoked, turkey hams, breasts or gourmet flavored.

"Well you know, Thanksgiving turkeys," Carter said.

"Yes sir," she retorted. "Fresh or frozen?"

"Which is cheaper?"

"Fresh"

"Then that's what I want."

About five minutes later a man with a blood splattered apron brought out 18 turkeys in cardboard cases.

"Where you all want these, Bubba?"

Carter looked in amazement. "What only 18 turkeys?"

"Well you should have only gotten 10 turkeys, but since you are such a high rollin' customer we threw in a free case," the worker said sarcastically. "Now where you want them son."

"In the Buick back yonder, put them in the back."

"Y'all got ice for these guys. Ya got to ice ‘em down ya know."

Carter shook his head no. The worker gave out a loud whistle and a short, rather stout worker came out with a cart of chipped ice. The worker then grabbed his shovel and proceeded to throw ice in Carter's back seat.

"Hey what are you doing," Carter yelled.

"It's the law kid. Y'all don't like it, tell the governor."

After filling up the back seat, the little stout worker turned around and wheeled the cart away. Carter jumped in his ‘72 Buick Electra business coupe and headed for Bruford. He was now in the poultry business.

TO BE CONTINUED

PELOSI CALLS ON THE WORLD TO PRACTICE PEACE SAN FRANCISCO STYLE

With just a few hours after the announcement of the Democrats taking both House and Senate in a surprising victory that stunned both the nation and the world, death and destruction continues.

Nancy Pelosi, speaker-wanna-be, announced in a press conference today, complete with gaiety, from her podium hidden somewhere below the Golden Gate, there will be no more death due to American influence anywhere on the globe or in outer space.

An aide to Ms Pelosi, Benji Dogma and Sprinkles Sunshine McBeemer, who are the same person with split personalities, have been commissioned to create peace where no peace has existed by using positive American influences.

"We live in a world where America has long created home schooled terrorist because we want to change cultures," Pelosi said. "If Moslems want Burkas, then we should start a Burka For Peace program, instead of sending troops and creating an atmosphere for insurgents to blow us up."

Pelosi went on to explain that San Francisco has much to offer the Eastern cultures like chocolate, coffee and male pornography.

"Hey, if they try what we can offer them then we can show them how to make money on theaters, show tunes, museums and bath houses, and forget about oil which has been something the Bushies just love to go to war over," Pelosi added.

San Francisco is the worlds largest exporter of All American Girlie Boy material second only to darn tough women, which the Bay Area desires not to elevate at this time.

"The days of bad karma, angry terrorists and world domination by America is finished as the beautiful people showed us yesterday at the voting booths. Kiss, kiss and you know you're gonna love me." Pelosi said, as she made her grand wide-eyed exit of the stage.

Meanwhile, Hamas leaders vowed to retaliate with force against a deadly Israeli strike which killed at least 18 Palestinian civilians in the Gaza Strip this morning, a suicide bomber killed at least 35 soldiers at an army base in northwest Pakistan on Wednesday in an attack officials said was likely revenge for a missile strike against an al-Qaeda training camp, and Sri Lankan forces bombarded rebels with artillery on Wednesday hit a school where scores of civilians had taken refuge from the fighting, killing at least 45 Tamils and wounding 125 others in the country's east.

It is also likely North Korea has missiles pointed towards the U.S. and Cleveland, governed by Democrats, as of today, is the poorest and one of the most dangerous city in America.

HOMELAND SECURITY DECLARES NO ELECTION RESULTS UNTIL THURSDAY OR LATER

President George Bush announced today from the snow covered White House Rose Garden that an emergency overnight congressional session was held this weekend to pass a law delaying election results until calm prevails across the nation.

Election officials from nearly all 50 states agreed the televised ads have created a hostile and unsafe environment for voters and booth workers alike.

"It is sad to see what the other party has created over the last few weeks and we are nearly in the rungs of civil war, therefore, by the War Powers Act and Homeland Security Act, I have taken necessary action to ensure a safe and peaceful Tuesday," President Bush said earlier today..

Scattered reports from across the nation have poured into local police stations of pillaging, overturning of cars in backyards of Appalachian states, teenagers shoplifting in malls, pot smoking, angry mothers hoarding milk and baby food plus other physical crimes such as televisions being tossed from windows of houses and passing cars.

The president urged Americans to get up, vote early and take the children to McDonalds and forget the escalating violence being perpetrated across the nation by mobs of angry politicians.

"These people (Democrats) have organized themselves rather well with hostile words and November surprises of mass destruction and we have seen Emergency Rooms across our lands becoming overwhelmed, where many have died from lack of oxygen due to uncontrollable shouting and refusing to take time to inhale," said Evans Jibbersly, spokesman for the Northern Ohio Chapter of Political Relaxation.

"Everything will have a chance to cool down if we just take a few days to think about what we did at the polls and be proud of it," Jibbersly said. You will feel better, your neighbor will feel better and America will feel better. Think of it as a group hug.

As the president was ready to step away from the podium he parted with a quote from Abraham Lincoln,

"Fellow-citizens, we cannot escape history. We of this Congress and this administration, will be remembered in spite of ourselves. No personal significance, or insignificance, can spare one or another of us. The fiery trial through which we pass, will light us down, in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation."

"Smile, be happy and vote. God bless you all," Bush said, as a flurry of reporters yelled at the president as he withdrew to the White House

SENATOR KERRY FIGHTING HOOF AND MOUTH DISEASE

Officials within Senator John Kerry's (D-Mass) organization announced today following his political guffaw this week, that caused a major chasm to be carved into the Democratic party, that the wounded political leader opted for rehab.

Kerry's sokesperson, Angus Bullflinger, confirmed rumors the senator followed the lead of several other unnamed political and religious figures who fell from grace and saw rehab as a quick fix.

Reports had been flying about Boston that Kerry secretly entered the Rodney Dangerfield Hospital for Disorientated Joke Tellers at the now famous Dangerfield's on First Avenue in Manhattan yesterday morning.

Because of the privacy act, his treatment plan has remained undisclosed but pamphlets found lying about in the nightclub state the idea behind Hospital is, "To offer idiots, slow thinkers and other people with the knack of disrespecting the general public, a 24 hour crash course of quick wit, smart thinking and a general hope idiots can be transformed into decent citizens."

"We know Kerry's stoic personality has often caused people to misunderstand his deep thoughts, but in truth he is a barrel of laughs once you get to know him," Bullflinger told reporters. "What this is all about is cracking the egg shell veneer that encrusts the senator."

Kerry's office expects him to be released sometime today.


UPDATE: NOVEMBER 2, 10:06 a.m. NEW YORK

John Kerry was released early this morning from The Rodney Dangerfield Hospital for Disorientated Joke Tellers, smiling at fans and supporters as he entered his official "New Man Car," which resembles a 1960 Fiat that clowns once used in circus acts.

This amazing change in personality has stunned his fans who had grown accustom to his dry wit and high minded thinking.

Reporters on site say the tall, handsome figure raised the pitch of his voice four octaves and now sounds like a teenager inhaling helium.

After returning to his office at his Cape Cod home, Kerry gave a quick interview which the Senator started out saying, "I never get any respect. My wife asked me to take her someplace new where she's never been before and I took her to the kitchen," at which time his partner in life, Teresa Heinz, pushed a large bookshelf on top of his now limp body.

No word has been released from his office on whether or not Kerry shall re-enter rehab.

HELLO DARLING, I'M HOME

The rescuing of my priceless manuscripts has taken four days, but I, at long last, have put all of Shelly's Cafe articles in a safe hiding place. After Possumtrot's harrowing article about losing all of his hard work to Google's takeover, I knew the clock may have been ticking away.

I must admit it was a pleasant stroll down memory lane, quickly scanning 76 articles and stories, and hopefully the cheap entertainment will continue. Right now, and not to mimic Michael J Fox, my MS is kicking butt and hopefully, soon, the evil lurker will be re-contained.

January 23 of this year the first article was put on Shelly's and what had the most reader's response? Much to my surprise it was the "I Will Kill Bambi II" article, where I threatened to eat the little critter (and even published a recipe) if my readership did not increase.

Not being a person who tends to resort to violence, I quickly had to devour the poor darling in the privacy of my home since I did not reach the desired 50 readers. Then there were the followers of some Judo style group who disliked my use of their name in a satire.

All in all there has been a fairly good split in stories and satire. Will this all continue? Well only your Google can tell

Hope to see you all back soon.

SPACE SHIPS AND HOT MINNESOTA NIGHTS

As I strive towards the 100 stories by December I am oft' reminded that my body and mind soes not always synch well. I think this is number 76, written before my days in the hospital, but just today edited. I'm heading for my goal.. See you there.

My calling cards once held a quote from an old favorite western, "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence." At the end of the movie Jimmy Stewart makes no apologies over revealing how Liberty died. Maxwell Scott (Carleton Young) said "This is the west, Sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend." Well dear friends, I must confess my family's involvement in UFO hysteria and crop circles is also rather legendary. This is the story and I'm sticking to it.

August of ‘63 proved to be a mixed bag of blessings for my Uncles Lars up in Twin Hills, Minnesota. Nature provided the right amount of rainfall combined with a mild summer that blissful year. This rather unique weather pattern blessed my uncle with a bumper crop of barely and wheat--but the abundance of grain fell upon friend and foe alike, so farm help was hard to come by.

The previous winter, Lars' brother, Donald, sold his share of the family farm under orders from a higher power in order to move his wife and kids to St. Paul. His oldest son, Eric, just turned seventeen when they moved away in early summer, just the age to work like a dang fool and that is exactly what Lars needed–a working fool.

Everyone saw the handwriting on the wall when Don's, wife Jackie started in about the lack of culture for her children on this God-forsaken prairie.

"This great expanse of desolation will turn the kids into another generation of hardheaded sod busters like the rest of you snuff chewing bunch of Swedes," she always argued, with fingers wagging in front of Donald's face.

My uncle advised Donald against falling for the cunning deceit of a French girl. He fell over dead for his wife during his Naval tour of duty in Europe at Cafe Marly, which, as he described in broken Minnesota French, was located on the very scenic rue de Rivoli, Cour Napoléon du Louvre. My family never understood which view took him in, since she was a rather ravenous beauty with a glowing complexion and coal black hair. Still, everyone knew full well he would never keep such a contemptuous gal on the farm.

As the two brothers sat about the kitchen pulling hairs and attempting to find a decent settlement there seemed to be little conversation about holding the family farm together. The old gas stove coffee pot had put in overtime as the rest of the interested parties gave up and went off to bed.

"I honestly don't know what else to do," Donald told Lars, as he signed off the family deed. "I took her to Fargo at least once a month and persuaded the bookmobile to pass her on a regular basis, the movie theater has a double feature every Saturday and still she says she needs civilized folks for the kids upbringin. No, there ain't much to do but pack up and move."

"Ya," Lars said, with a deep sigh, grabbing the pen and reluctantly signing Donald off the farm that had been in his family for nearly 78 years. "But just you just keep an eye on Eric. Girls are kinda fast in the city and he ain't use to them kind."

The culture of city life started to show its effects on Eric quite rapidly. The first sign came during supper when he announced that his mom said it was all right if he grew a goatee and he also had plans on joining an acting troupe when they moved to the cities. Lars knew he had to rescue his nephew and get him back on the farm before he fell into certain ways where no man could retrieve him.

After Lars evaluated the crops toward the end of July, he got on the phone and convinced my aunt to allow Eric to come up and help get the harvest in during August. He pleaded with her that if he didn't get help, the barley crop would be lost. Against her better judgement my aunt caved in. With the clock now ticking, Lars had four weeks to save Eric and make a good Scandianian boy out of him and, most of all, restore the family name

Two hundred acres of barley waited to be gathered. That meant around the clock work for the harvest team. Lars would jump aboard the massive John Deere combine and slowly cover the field from early morning until evening while Eric drove the grain truck between the Hittlandel Coop Grain Elevator and the farm. After supper they switched jobs until three in the morning.

Nearly a week later Eric started to weaken under the pressure of sleep depravation and Lars knew the time had come to move quickly. As planned, Jim Kravenough, who signed on to help bring in the barley crop, dropped by the field with a cooler full of R.C. Cola's and Grain Belt beer.

About midnight my Uncle Lars told Eric to shut down for a break, have a few sandwiches, a can of pop and cool off. The two men, and one boy soon to enter manhood, sat and talked about the weather, next year's crop and boxing. Jim asked Eric how he was holding out

"Man, it feels good to be back on the farm but I'm beat," Eric said, beating the itchy barely dust off his jeans with his hat.

Jim reached into his back pocket where a can of Copenhagen left a permanent rim in his Levi's and handed the tobacco to Eric. "Put a little pinch of this in your cheek and you will be combining all night."

With a pile of wax paper and tin cans piled about, the cooler lid was closed and Eric had orders to finish the final forty acres on the back side of the property. The bait had been set because two cans of beer were left behind. About three in the morning Eric dumped a load of barley into the grain truck and walked to the cooler to grab another cola, but instead saw the two beers.

A multitude of thoughts raced through his tired mind. Eric felt he was old enough since his eighteenth birthday was only a week away, and darn, if he was aloud to stay awake and work all night then why not. He then had second thoughts because he knew his uncle would remember he left two cans behind. The long hours behind the combine and the pinch of Copenhagen ruled over sanity and down went the two beers.


About fifteen minutes later Eric began combining in a new field and since he struggled to keep a straight line he drove directly to the center of the field, began combining in a tight circle, then another and finally in a rather apparent zig-zag motion, he dozed off and drove the combine into the Wild Rice River. He spent the next two hours trying to get the combine back out of the shallow river.

Fortunately, not a lot of damage was done to the combine. Fear and hard work brought Eric back to his senses and he knew he had best drive the green monster of the dark back to the truck, unload and call it a night. Tomorrow he would deal with his punishment.

Lar's farm was on the landing approach to the Grand Forks Air Base and the way I understand the story, a couple of pilots noticed strange circles and zig-zags in a barley field near Twin Valley. That morning a military crew had been sent out to investigate. Of course neither Lars nor Jim would admit to leaving a few cold ones out for a 17 year-old boy to drink, no matter how desperate the situation.

When the military investigator approached the local residents, most admitted to hearing a lot of strange noises about three in the morning. One neighbor said it sounded like a grinding, whirling type of sound with lights going straight up in the air, sort of like a combine had been turned on end and swallowed up into the earth. As the day progressed the phone lines started humming and the gruesome episode of UFO attacks became more bizarre.

By afternoon camera trucks started showing up from Fargo, the Twin Cities and Grand Forks. Reporters from every newspaper in a three hundred-mile range pulled into town along with military trucks of every shape and size.

Experts were traipsing all about the fields measuring the circles, looking for radioactive readings and examining the muddy hole along the side of the river bank. After a few hours the military men left, while the reporters either beat on the doors of the Air Force cars or scoured the fields for their own evidence. By days end most of the reporters left completely baffled by what they had seen. A few reporters stayed back to watch the night sky.

Whether the Air Force took serious on what they saw that day or not, nobody knows. Every so often the story about the Minnesota crop circles reappears on late-night cable programs trying to convince skeptics on the reality of UFO's. The residents who are still alive will dog-gone-well adhere to the fact their town was visited by aliens, some will even swear seeing Martians walking the streets of Twin Hills that night oh so long ago back in 1963.

My Cousin Eric? He returned to the Twin Cities to finish his senior year but never hooked up with the troupe of actors. Actually his life remained rather mundane until he returned back to Twin Hills about ten years ago and retold the story about the crop circles and how it really happened. The local folks ran him out of town.

Remember my dear friends, "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."