"…his stories are always sharp and compact and interesting." ——Angel Martinez "(One of) the hottest authors in the independent horror scene…" —-Hellbound Books
Totally floored! I read over a story I’d started in 1999, “A Dinner At Megacles” and realized I only needed to do one descriptive scene in the middle and the first draft would be finished! Now, I just have to revise it a bit and it’ll be ready to send off! (Finished it, sent it off, got rejected, sending it off again!)
Wrote one Queer Sci Fi column, started work on another.
Wrote the weekly and monthly stories.
Started doing what will be a monthly look at the 1973 animated kids show “My Favorite Martians.”
Worked on the novellas I’m wanting to finish and a couple are near ready. Worked on several short stories, including adding a page to one where the market wanted more wordcount.
And, I have been keeping with my New Year’s Resolution of writing four pages a day, even if I don’t always do it. But it’s a serious prompt and somedays I do a page or two, sometimes I do the four or more!
Just under the wire for Julian Hawthorne’s June 22nd birthday I read a chapter in his novella “Kildhurm’s Oak,” which I left off reading a while back. I need to get back into reading him.
Read the monthly offerings by E.H. Timms and the weekly stories (a serial this time!) from Kaje Harper. (She’s planning a new collection! Great news!)
Read J. Scott Coatsworth’s “Flames,” where Alex must talk to his hospitalized partner Gio after a fire puts him in a coma. Having been through something like that I will say Scott has it all perfect. (So perfect I almost didn’t want to continue reading it! But I did.) Scott’s literary sensibilities are on the romantic side and not a second of it feels contrived or mawkish. It’s in his collection “The River City Companion.”
Am doing some reading for the Book Tube “Rocket Summer” event promoting early Science Fiction and I’m going to list those in a separate post later this month.
I got a book on the Filmation TV shows/movies. “Animation By Filmation,” by Michael Swanigan and Darrell McNeil, with an introduction by Lou Scheimer. Been bumming through that.
Read some stories in Crippen & Landru’s Edward D. Hoch collection “The Case Of the Flying Graveyard,” about his Avengers*-like INTERPOL detectives. Read “The Case Of the Musical Bullet” (nifty plot twist.) and several others. Great fun! Hoch was a master of his craft.
I’m bumming through an fine anthology “The Black Fantastic” which will be covered in a Queer Sci Fi column, but I’ll mention here I read the story “The Secret Lives Of the Nine Negro Teeth Of George Washington” by Phenderson Dejeli Clark. The introduction to the anthology calls it “…a compact tour-de-force…” and I can’t improve on that!
And I read “At The Rialto,” by Connie Willis from her collection “Impossible Things.” Not every story mentions Boolean logic, Quantum Theory and May Robson’s performance in “Bringing Up Baby.” Oh well! That’s Hollywood! Isn’t it? (And I actually saw Ms Willis at a convention once! Didn’t get to meet her, I was in a line to meet Robert Silverberg!)
See you next month!
———jeff baker, july 20, 2026
*Footnote: Steed and Mrs. Peel Avengers, not Marvel Comics Avengers.
Continuing our look at episodes of the 1973 animated Filmation kids show “My Favorite Martians,” a version of the original 1963 series. Today, we look at the episode “Life-Style.”
We see incognito Martian Andy in one of his High School classes during this episode. Of course, he gets into a lot of trouble but it isn’t really his fault. Andy and his classmates (including his “cousin” Katy) are studying the Solar System and are assigned individual reports on one of the planets. Andy is home, levitating a book over to him to do research when he gets in Uncle Martin’s way. Andy starts to explain that it’s a project for school, but Uncle Martin interrupts.
“As a project for school flying books constitute a high hazard risk…” Martin explains, demonstrating by levitating several objects (and the dog Oakie-Doakie) around his hidden lab.
With Martin not listening it takes a while for Andy and Katy to get him to understand the project is about the planets. This conversation continues at the dinner table that evening.
“The project should be very easy for you, Andy.” Martin says, levitating the pitcher of milk from the kitchen. But Andy tells him he’s afraid he might fail.
“Nonsense!” Uncle Martin says. “You simply tell them exactly what life is like on Mars.”
“If I do that, I’ll fail for sure.” Andy says. “I picked Saturn.”
This startles Martin so much the milk he was levitating empties itself on his head!
And the scene at the dinner table is woderful! Martian levitation and family conversation all taking place in this oh-so-normal setting. We are given the feeling that this is an ordinary evening at the O’Hara home and that it is what it would be really like if such wonderous visitors appeared on Earth. And it is done perfectly.
In school the next day, Detective Brennan’s jerk son Brad makes fun of Andy’s choice of Saturn as a choice for a report and says he couldn’t write about Mars; “What could you write about a dead planet?”
This goads Andy into changing the subject of his report.
The next scene is Andy delivering his report to the class. He’s being honest and didn’t edit it for an audience that doesn’t believe there is life on Mars, but his report involving inhabitants who live for hundreds of years, travel in space and have three-million-year-old cities does not go over with his teacher who sends him to the disinterested school counselor, Mr. Bridges.
Mr. Bridges is a REALLY disinterested school counselor!
Bridges doesn’t listen to a word Andy says. (“You were talking about cars…” he says. “Not cars, Mars!” Andy tells him.)
Exasperated, Andy reads Bridges’ mind, and finds out that he finds life dull and wishes he could do something exciting. When he tells Bridges that and tells him how he knew, Bridges expells him.
“What do you mean you were expelled?” Uncle Martin asks him back at home.
Andy explains what happened and the two Martians go to have a talk with Bridges. Who of course, doesn’t listen.
Martin reads his mind finding he’s daydreaming about riding a roller-coaster.
“Really, Mr. Bridges. A roller coaster? You can do better than that!” Uncle Martin says.
Bridges demands to know how Martin knew he was thinking that.
“I read your mind, of course.” Martin says.
We cut back to the O’Hara apartment.
“What do you mean you were expelled?” Tim asks Martin.
“That didn’t bother me as much as when he said I couldn’t go to the Junior Prom.” Martin wisecracks.
The joke, like many on this series is old and corny and it works and is worth a smile and a laugh.
Martin theorizes that if they give Bridges some excitement in his life he would go back to doing his job. They invite Bridges over for dinner and Martin uses “thought transferrence” to let him mentally experience life on Mars. But some of it transfers onto snoopy Detective Brennan…
Howard Morris voices Tim, Detective Brennan, Brad, Mr. Bridges and a host of other characters on the series. Morris was all over animation, he was a Filmation staple and he had a career that encompassed live TV (like “Your Show Of Shows”), character parts (Ernest T. Bass on “The Andy Griffith Show”) and directing, including helming the first McDonaldland TV commercial. His cartoon voices on “Martians” are each distinct and different even though listeners can usually pick him out.
His voicing of Tim O’Hara has the flavor of the original series’ actor Bill Bixby and the animated version of Tim is a perfect cartoon version of the actor.
Next time in this series, we’ll see more of the teen-age Earthlings and go to a school dance. (Or, at least, we’ll try to!)
The two sixty-somethings were standing in the glass-enclosed hallway at the front of the old shopping center. They were staring at a metal rectangle in the stone wall just under the window of the chain hardware store that had been a chain grocery when they were kids.
They could barely make out the worn raised words in the metal at the top of the rectangle: U.S. MAIL.
“Look, the slot has cement in it.” Chet said pointing.
“Yeah,” Willie said. “Not going to mail a letter today. Oh well, I pay my bills online now.”
“I haven’t been to this shopping center in years,” Chet said.
“Not much of a shopping center anymore.” Willie said. “Hardware store here, couple of restaurants down that way,” he pointed. “And the sports store that used to be a dress shop and will probably be something else next month.”
Chet laughed.
“Hey, remember the sign on the grocery store doors? Those glass doors that opened automatically?” Willie said.
“I loved those!” Chet said. When I was about eight I used to wiggle my nose before they opened!”
Willie nodded. “Yeah. The doors had the picture of a sad-faced Basset Hound and the words ‘Sorry Fellows, State Law Says You Must Stay Outside.’”
“I wanted one of those dogs.” Chet said. “But I remember mailing that letter to you from right here when you were off in College.”
“Oh yeah. That one.” Willie said. “It was the early Eighties and we weren’t out yet?”
Chet nodded. “Yeah, but I asked you out anyway.”
“I remember.” Willie said.
“You know if this was a lifetime movie, we’d both kiss and say ‘Happy Anniversary.’” Chet said.
Willie laughed. “Your husband and my boyfriend might take issue with that!”
“Oh yeah!” Chet laughed.
“Hey, you invited me out to eat,” Willie said. “Let’s walk down here.”
“Okay.” Chet said as they started walking to the other end of the shopping center, past the years they remembered.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The draws for the July 2026 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge were: A Comedy, set in a Walk-In-Freezer, involving a Book Of Stamps. I pulled these private eye characters of mine out of mothballs and set them on the case! —–jeff
“Are you sure about this?” Josh asked his husband Adam as they walked through the dimly-lit back hallway.
“As sure as I’ve ever been,” Adam said, trying not to trip over any of the boxes of canned goods stored illegally on the hallway floor.
“Oh that’s reassuring,” Josh said sarcastically, resisting the urge to turn on his flashlight.
In the years they’d run their own private detective agency being sure of something usually meant a disaster.
“And if someone stops us we’re looking for…” Adam said.
“…restroom, right. Got it.” Josh said.
“Stolen stamps,” Adam said. “Should be easy, right?”
“Mmm.” Josh said. “A lot easier than crouched in the bushes spying on errant husbands or staking out a wedding.”
“Yeah, getting our clothes covered in little wedding sandwiches or leaves and mud.” Adam said.
The stolen stamps were rare and valuable. Part of an inheritance, they’d been discovered stolen before the will had been read. Stolen and hidden.
The heirs had hired Josh and Adam to find the stamps. Then the detectives got a big boost when one of the thieves stupidly texted everybody in his Contacts list, telling them the item was hidden “in the walk-in freezer.” In a freezer bag, of course.
Josh’s Granddad had told him long ago that the clever criminal was a character only in fiction.
It had been easy finding out that the suspect had worked in a restaurant and sports bar downtown. Josh and Adam had shown up in the afternoon, sat down at a table, placed an order and snuck back towards the kitchen. They weren’t too worried about being caught; the restaurant was understaffed.
“Doesn’t help that one of their guys is on the run right now.”
The kitchen reminded them of every restaurant kitchen they’d worked in or been in. Cutting boards, dishwasher, sinks, big ovens, pots and pans hanging from above. Freshly washed plates stacked on shelves. And fortunately the cook was up front grilling. They could smell and hear it.
“If we’re caught, that’s us,” Josh whispered.
Adam nodded and pointed toward the back. A short hallway beside the refrigerator door in the wall. They could glimpse another big metal door to a walk-in, doubtless the freezer.
“Hey!” The yell came from a man standing in the doorway, dressed for a production of “Guys And Dolls.” He was pulling a pistol out of his jacket pocket.
Josh reacted instinctively; he grabbed one of the plates and tossed it like a frisbee, aiming for the gun.
It smacked the man squarely in the crotch.
He doubled over, firing the gun, the bullet hitting the baseboard.
Josh and Adam half ran half jumped the guy, basically dogpiling him and pinning him to the floor.
“Really hope he’s the guy we’re after.” Josh said.
“Yeah,” Adam said.
The cook came in from the front of the kitchen at the same time a waitress walked into the kitchen.
“I heard a gunshot,” the waitress said nonchalantly. “Or was that the ice machine again?”
“This guy’s a thief,” Adam said.
“We’re private detectives.” Josh said. “He just tried to shoot us!”
“Call the police!” Adam said.
“Good,” the waitress said. “That’s my boss you’re sitting on. This is the only way we’re gonna be rid of the S.O.B.”
After the police arrived, Josh, Adam and one of the officers made a thorough search of the walk-in freezer for the stamps.
Nothing.
“The guy said he’d hidden the stamps in the walk-in freezer,” Josh said.
“In an envelope in a freezer bag,” Adam said.
“To come back for it later.” Josh said.
They grinned at each other. Finishing each other’s sentences.
“Sarge.” That was one of the young officers, standing in the open doorway of the back door just down the hall from the freezer. “I think you better come and see this.”
The men stepped outside.
Just past the dumpster in the fenced-in lot were an array of restaurant surplus walk-in freezers, ready to be installed. Safely padlocked.
Josh quickly counted. Eighteen of them. Thankfully none of them were actually turned on.
The Sergeant sighed. “Max,” he said to the young officer. “Get the metal cutters from the squad car.”
“Looks like it’s gonna be a long night,”Josh said.
Adam glanced up and saw a pale Moon in the blue afternoon sky.
“And the dish ran away with the spoon,” he quoted for no reason.
“Hopefully not into someone’s crotch,” Josh said with a grin.
After I left Lake Mannakopa I headed North a few miles into Canada.
Sneaking into Canada with no I.D., using a fake name and age was a lot easier than I thought it would be that August of 1976. The trick was, or course, avoid the roads and any border crossings. In fact I wasn’t sure I was in Canada until I actully walked onto a road and saw a road sign. Then I saw another one pointing to a place called “Coal Lake.”
I’d been walking all day and hadn’t dared catch a ride so the nearest town sounded like heaven.
I walked into town about Midnight, raided a restaurant trash can for food (I was getting used to that, but still didn’t like it!) and crashed-out behind a low, dark building just outside town that didn’t have any lights on it. And that was actually where I had some good luck.
I woke up with a start to find it was daylight and a tall man with a reddish beard and a ballcap was staring at me.
“Uhhhh…hi!” I managed. “Um, I’m sorry If I’m like on your property, I’m kind of new in town and don’t have anyplace to go. Or any money.”
The man shrugged and extended a hand.
“Eddie MacDowell,” he said in a raspy voice. “You need a job?”
My jaw about dropped. I nodded and told him my name was Bryce Going (it wasn’t) and that I was twenty-three (sixteen, but I could pass) and I really could use a job.
He asked me if I was any good with tools.
I said I was okay. Which was a big lie but I was a fast learner.
Two years on the road as a closeted, big-for-my-age Gay runaway had made me pretty adaptable.
Eddie laughed and said “Okay, we’ll show you. C’mon. I’ll unlock the place and make coffee.”
I hadn’t gotten a good look at the building last night. It was one of those metal things that looked like a barracks you’d see in a war movie. Metal curved over into an arch shape with the ends shut up with windows and a door. Oh and concrete flooring.
Inside it was about as big as a four car garage which it essentially was. There were car parts all around and Eddie said he worked on them here. He kept talking as he made the coffee.
“You’re probably wondering where the lake is,” he said. “Well, it’s about ten miles north of here. They just needed a name about a hundred twenty years ago. This time of year, the lake looks as dark as…well…as this”
Eddie handed me a styrofoam cup of coffee. It tasted good.
“There’s stories about Coal Lake,” he said.
Uh, oh, I thought.
“It’s dark as coal because they say that the spirit of the lake left a long time ago. At least that’s what the Tribes used to be around here said. But they left too.”
I was starting to get a prickly feeling. I’d worked part of Spring and Summer at a lake and I’d seen a sea serpent. And a real cute guy. One of them gave me nightmares.
Eddie laid it out for me. He and a buddy of his did repair work here and they also “procured” special auto parts for other customers who could afford it. He said he was a good judge of people and that I wouldn’t squeal.
Besides I’d admitted to him I was in the country with no documentation at all early on when I was babbling after just waking up.
So we made a deal. I would haul stuff, help with some basic stuff, keep my trap shut and in exchange I could sleep in the back room and he’d pay me under the table.
It worked out well for a couple of weeks. None of the shady customers looked shady and he did pay me and the job wasn’t bad and I was sleeping on a cot which was sort of a bed, which was better than the ground.
Late one night, I was trying to sleep when there was a rumbling. I thought it was thunder. I got up, went through the shop and looked out the back window. I saw stars, clear night sky and the startlit hills in the distance. I went to the front window and was just to where I could see the lights of the little town when the building gave a lurch and I fell onto the floor, tools clattering off the workbench beside me. I managed to stand up, regain my balance and then I grabbed the workbench which was bolted to the floor and to the wall. I could see the windows of the big garage door in front of me but all I could see were stars. And the floor was swaying.
Holding on to the bench I went to the window. I had some idea that the building had been hit by an earthquake and was tilted at an angle. But when I looked out the window, I saw the town at a far distance below where I was, like I was on a hill. Then the town seemed to swerve out of sight, no; the building had turned. I clutched the workbench as the room swayed and bobbed. At one point I almost banged my face against the window but in those moments I looked down.
There was something huge, something tall under the garage and it was moving. No, it was walking!
I saw feet, dark legs lit by starlight and arms swaying the way they do when someone is walking along. There was a huge figure walking and the garage was on top of it. The garage I was in!
I hung on for dear life!
I glimpsed the tops of distant hills passing buy and after a bit (I had no idea how fast this walker traveled) we very definitely turned right. I kept hanging on to the bench, even though the ride was much smoother now. I had a momentary flash of jumping out of the garage to the ground. But I didn’t know how far it was and I didn’t like the idea of being stranded, or stepped on.
Or eaten.
After a bit, we slowed down. Then the walker stopped. And then, I felt us lowering as if it was stooping down. I was able to glimpse through the windows a clear, dark surface reflecting stars. Coal Lake! Reflecting the garage on top of a tall, dark figure with a face just under the garage, in deep shadow. (I was greatful for that. I didn’t want to see the face!)
I glimpsed enough of an arm and a human-like hand, but somehow more brutish reach down into the lake and scoop some of the water up. It was getting itself a drink!
I hung onto the bench and tried not to make a sound. It didn’t know I was up there.
After a few more moments it rose and I was able to gather re-traced its steps, eventually winding up in the spot the garage had been on the dirt road just outside of town. Then there was the rumble again and I am gathering the walker sank down into the ground again, leaving the garage where it had been.
I should have run but I kept imagining the thing rising out of the ground and coming after me.
I managed to stagger back to bed.
Usually I was up early but not that next morning. Eddie banged on the door of the storeroom I slept in and woke me up.
“Are you all right?” Eddie asked me. “I saw the stuff out there, looks like we had another earthquake.”
“Earthquake?” I managed to say. Then I shook my head. “Breakfast. I need breakfast.”
We were sitting at a table in the small cafe in the town that catered to truckers and Eddie was telling me that there were earth tremors in the area every once in a while. One of the men working in the back kitchen had come out for a donut and stopped to listen.
“Tremors.” I mumbled, not sure what to say.
“Fault line more’n likely,” said our waitress. “Been happ’nen for years and years.”
“You know,” said the trucker in the booth across from us. “Some of the Native peoples blame local earthquakes on the Agrimathaa. Supposed to be a big giant that hid from the other giants.”
“I heard that,” the man from the kitchen said. “And the Natives I know say that’s not a real legend. That Whites made it up. They say ‘Agrimathaa’ isn’t an Inuit name.”
“Yeah, it’s like that funny whatsit-name that guy who was here two years ago was trying to find out about? What did he say? ‘Law-Done-Edge’ or something like that. Stuff about Old Ones…”
“Well, my Daddy said something about the ire of the mountains…” someone else said.
I stopped listening. I had an idea of the kind of thing that I’d seen and been carried by. So I hit up one of the truckers for a ride, saying I was in Canada by accident since I’d heard him say they were going back to the States.
I caught the ride. I slept most of the way. No nightmares.
Happy 250th! (Seems like just yeaterday we were turning 200!)
First, here’s the prompts for the July 2026 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge, then my usual long-winded explanation:
A Comedy
Involving A Book Of Stamps
Set in A Walk-In Freezer
Now, on to the details.
Hi! I’m Mike Mayak, I also write as Jeff Baker and I’m the current moderator for the monthly Flash Fiction Draw Challenge, which was started by ‘Nathan Burgoine a few years ago and carried on by Cait Gordon and Jeffrey Ricker. It’s a monthly writing challenge mainly for stress-free fun that anyone can play.
Here’s how it works: the first Monday of every month I draw three cards; a heart, a diamond and a club. These correspond to a list naming a genre, a setting and an object that must appear in the story. Participants write up a flash fiction story, 1,000 words or less, post it to their website and link it here in the comments. I’ll post the results (including, hopefully, one of my own!)
As I’m no good making videos I did the drawing offstage. So, the results were the Seven of Hearts (a Comedy), the Twelve of Diamonds (A Walk-In Freezer) and the Ten of Clubs (A Book Of Stamps.)
So we will write a Comedy, involving a Book of Stamps set in a Walk-In-Freezer.
We’ll have the results here in this same space around Monday July 13th, 2026.
So, get to writing and I’ll post the results next week! And I’m putting the 2026 Flash Draw sheet at the end of this message, again! (* indicates those have been used.)
Thanks for playing, and I’ll see you in about week!
Kenny Briscoe followed cautiously along as his husband who called himself Hank Jones strode down the sidewalk in Washington DC. There were some early-morning tourists but not as many as Kenny had expected as they walked East past the Lincoln Memorial towards the Washington Monument, a white strip against the blue sky.
He’d been to DC before, but this time it felt like being in an occupied city. Hank had reminded Kenny that he’d been in wartime Washington; “Back in the 1860s, 1940s, I wasn’t here around 1916.” Hank had said.
Hank looked like a medium-sized 40-something of indeterminate ethnic origin. People had guessed Latino or Asian. Actually he was from an otherdimensional world (“We get a great view of the Hyades,”) and was one of the “Underlords Of the Lahadnedjj,” which he said was basically a magical engineering degree and had been around for about 400 years.
Kenny looked like what he was; a medium-sized Black man also in his 40s. The pair had met, fallen for each other and moved in together, their lives becoming what Kenny had called “a Gay 1960s supernatural sitcom.” A while back, Hank had “Blended” their metabolisms so that Kenny would share his extended lifespan. This had the side effect of making both of them the same height and general size and giving Hank something of Kenny’s tan.
“Really politically incorrect,” Hank had laughed more than once.
Hundreds of years with the man you loved looked like a nice future.
But right now, Hank was pissed. He’d been watching the news reports from DC and had had enough. So when Kenny’s business took him to New York City, Hank arranged a side trip. He’d outlined what he was planning and asked Kenny to come along “Just in case it really poops me out and I need help back to the motel.”
Kenny said he wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Besides, he was curious since Hank had insisted they get there by commuter train, not by him using magic.
“There it is,” Hank said, stopping and pointing.
It took Kenny a moment to recognize the scene, familiar from hundreds of movies and TV shows; the long rectangle of water reflecting the blue (or cloudy) sky bracketed by the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument with the Capitol Building in the background. But the Reflecting Pool was a stagnant green somehow contrasting with the rows of trees on either side of the pool.
And the chain link fence surrounding the pool, several soldiers in fatigues stationed along the fence.
“This is ridiculous.” Kenny said.
Hank nodded.
“Let’s not get too close,” Kenny said.
“Around there,” Hank said pointing at the row of trees.
The two of them walked with the trees between them and the fenced-in pool, hank looking through the gaps at the pool.
“If that’s a pool, they ought to have Swamp Thing as a lifeguard.” Hank said.
Kenny snickered.
Hank stopped and ducked down, motioning for Kenny to do the same.
“This looks good,” Hank said as Kenny followed him into a clump of bushes. “Ought to keep us hidden, but what I’m gonna do is gonna make me kind of ovious.”
Hank stood up and cleared his throat. Then he began to recite:
“Water, Water, standing vile
Strewn here with greenish bile
Blue Sky Mirror now in damp
Manner of a fetid swamp
Water pristine, clear be found
Be brought here to this sacred ground
Replace this swamp which I do take…”
Here Hank paused almost thoughtfully and then finished.
“The world it reflects will be the one that we make!”
Hank had raised his hands as he whispered the last line and shouted out the last word. Kenny was sure he heard it echo off the marble buildings in the distance. He hoped none of the soldiers had heard it. Kenny couldn’t tell looking through the bushes, trees and fence around the pool. He ducked a little lower, realizing that wouldn’t do a lot of good to keep him hidden since Hank was standing there ramrod straight, arms spread above him like a cross between Charlton Heston in “The 10 Commandments” parting the Red Sea, and Aunt Clara from “Bewitched.” And he stood there for a long moment as nothing happened. Kenny could still see the greenish water, he thought he saw it glitter but that was just reflected sunlight. Wasn’t it?
Then there was a distant roar of wind and the breeze picked up. Hank grit his teeth, closed his eyes and clenched his fists. A sudden powerful gust of wind shook the trees and there was a blinding burst of light form the reflecting pool, along with a clap of thunder which all knocked Kenny to the ground. When Kenny’s eyes cleared from the flash, the first thing he noticed was Hank sitting on the ground breathing hard. Kenny sat up and put his hand on his husband’s shoulder.
“You okay?” Kenny asked.
Hank nodded and pointet through the trees. “Look.”
Kenny popped his head above the bushes where they were hiding. The soldiers around the pool were getting to their feet, some of them rubbing their eyes, some of them staring at the fence which had been knocked outward and was laying on the ground. One of the soldiers was crawling out from under one of the sections of fence. None of them seemed hurt.
The Reflecting Pool looked as clear and inviting as it ever had. The pool showing the clear blue sky ablve and the shimmering image of the Washington Monument looking like a great finger bordered by the edges of the pool.
“That oughta do it,” Hank said. “Whew!”
“Wow.” Kenny said.
“Good as new.” Hank said softly. “Now, let’s get out of here before they notice us and start asking questions.”
The two tried to walk out of the bushes as nonchalantly as they could in the opposite direction of the pool, then turned and headded in the direction of the National Mall.
“Are you all right?” Kenny asked.
Hank nodded. “A little winded. Just don’t ask me to zap us anywhere for a while. That business with the water pooped out my zapper for a little bit.”
“I can imagine,” Kenny said. “Hey, I thought you said you couldn’t transmute all that algae? Living matter and all?”
“I didn’t.” Hank said. I moved it. Popped it out of the pool and swapped it for a Reflecting Pool-sized chunk of water from the Tidal Basin.” Hank stopped and thought for a second. “About, oh, 2,300 and some feet.”
“Oh.” Kenny said.
They resumed walking and Hank started rambling.
“The trick is actually coordinating swapping out the pool gunk and replacing it and disintegrating that awful blue liner, which I had to do with a spoken spell because I don’t have the raw power to move all of that so I had to set up the program in my head and then invoke the power with the words and let that turn on the juice and…”
Kenny smiled. He loved all Hank’s Magic 101 lectures. But Kenny also knew he’d better watch for both of them when they crossed the Washington streets.
“Of course, I wasn’t totally sure it would all work the way I wanted,” Hank said. “But I said the stuff which pulled in the power and Whammo! It did the trick.”
The two of them were standing at a crosswalk waiting for the signal to change and Hank didn’t notice or care when a lady stared at him as he went on.
“I’m actually proud of that incantation.” Hank said. “I was going for a Stephen Vincent Benet feel for it and I think…”
They crossed the street and the lady crossed the other way as Hank and Kenny walked down the sidewalk.
They had reached the National Mall when a thought struck Kenny.
“Hey, one thing,” Kenny said. “Where did you send all that green water and algae? I mean, it’s not going to mess up the Tidal Basin, is it?”
“Didn’t send it there.” Hank said. “I mean, if it worked it should have…well.”
Hank stood there in the grass of the Mall and grinned at Kenny.
“If it worked you will hear a story on the news about them blaming the sewer system. Or backed-up toilets. Or enemy saboteurs. Do they even stillcall them that?” Hank said.
“Blaming?” Kenny asked. “Who?”
“You’ll know.” Hank said grinning again. “I popped all that green water and algae into the living room at Mar-A-Lago!”
The two men’s laughter could be heard across the National Mall on that bright, sunny day.
—end—
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Bear with me. The story for the prompt pic will be written and posted next week, but this one just breezed out of me. I’ve done a few stories that mirror the national mood but this one is just an obvious wish-fulfillment/revenge story. The kind magazine editors hate writers to send them, but I loved doing this one!
They’re Still My Favorite Martians: The Cleo Caper
Reviewed and analyzed by Jeff Baker
Back in the glorious heyday of Saturday Morning cartoons and shows for kids, there was a spate of cartoons based on live-action prime-time TV shows. “The Brady Bunch,” “Lassie,” “Star Trek” (a classic!) and “I Dream of Jeannie” (as “Jeannie,” with Mark Hamill!) were among the series that got the animation treatment, complete with laugh tracks for the comedies.
Forgotten in the mix was production company Filmation’s adaption of “My Favorite Martian.” The original had run for three seasons starting in 1963. The animated version; “My Favorite Martians,” ran for a single season on CBS in 1973-’74 and was haphazardly on the schedule during 1974-’75. Well-written and funny it was surprisingly not a hit, maybe due to competition on the other networks. In its original timeslot it proceeded the animated “Jeannie,” which was the top-rated daytime show on the network that season!
“My Favorite Martians” may have been re-run on some cable stations (there are plenty of You Tube videos of the show taken off what look like broadcasts more recent than 1973) and there were two VHS tape releases of two episodes each, but no DVD releases yet of its 16 episodes.
In those days 16 episodes was the norm for a Saturday Morning kid’s show. The episodes would be re-run for the rest of the season and more than likely over the next season.
But “My Favorite Martians” is worth a re-examination at least.
The set-up is simple and is recapped in the opening theme song; Uncle Martin and his teen-age nephew Andy (“Two friendly Martians,” with “special powers”) and their Martian dog Oakie-Doakie (Kids show, remember?) get stuck on Earth when their spaceship makes a crash landing. The only witnesses, reporter Tim O’Hara and his teen-age niece Katy O’Hara take them in, pass them off as family and are the only ones in on the Martian’s true identity while Martin tries to repair the spaceship and Andy enrolls in Katy’s High School.
And whatever possibly sad events caused Tim to be raising his niece are never touched upon.
The voice cast is just four actors: Jonathan Harris (as Martin), Lane Scheimer (as Andy), Jane Webb (as Katy) and Howard Morris (as Tim.) Morris and Webb also do the rest of the voices on the show. (Webb, by the way, was the first actress to play Sabrina the Teen-Age Witch voicing her and Aunt Hilda and Aunt Zelda in the original cartoon.)
And there’s a little of the feel of the earlier Sabrina/Archie cartoons (also Filmation productions) in “Martians,” except with sci-fi gimmicks and powers instead of magic, as well as many of the same sound effects.
In “The Cleo Caper,” Uncle Martin has built a time machine. Andy decides to use it to send Katy back in time to meet Cleopatra who they are studying in History class. Uncle Martin claims to have known her on one of his previous visits to Earth (“She was in love with me you know. Wanted me to rule Egypt with her.”)
Naturally, when the time machine brings Katy back it accidentally brings Cleopatra back with her.
Andy and Katy are enjoying Uncle Martin’s embarrassment about Cleo (she calls him “Snookums!”) so Andy zaps the time machine so it sends everybody to the garage. (Also where the space ship is usually hidden, by the way.) So when Uncle Martin thinks he’s returning Cleopatra to her own time, she winds up in the garage where Andy and Katy fix her up as “Miss Niles” (Clever!) renting another apartment nearby.
This brings us to the episode’s big plot hole, assuming Martin doesn’t regognize Cleo in modern clothes and glasses, his mind-reading powers should blow the gaffe. Presumably his “strict code of Martian ethics,” which are referenced in several other episodes, prevents him from reading Cleo, Andy or Katy’s minds. (Presumably after this episode, he learns better!)
There are some funny sequences at a dance as well as Cleo catching the eye of snoopy Detective Brennan and Martin begins to feel that Cleopatra has a connection to all this. He uses the time machine to send himself back to Ancient Egypt, and of course he doesn’t get there. This leads to one of the funniest lines in the series: “My Martian powers of deduction tell me that I must be in Ancient Egypt. But my Martian eyes tell me that I’m in the garage.” Delivered perfectly by Jonathan Harris.
This leads to a trip to the Museum to show Cleo what she, and maybe history, are missing. A clever bit of business very much in character for Uncle Martin and both the original and animated series.
Reportedly several storylines or scripts for this series were taken from ideas (or scripts) for the unproduced fourth season of the original series. And a couple of stories from the series were re-done for “My Favorite Martians.” “The Cleo Caper” was credited to writer Ben Starr, in the episode credits. The animated series actually improves on the original which had been tampered with by the network and had fallen into the cycle of “Martian thingie happens and Tim and Martin have a time limit to undo it or people will find out Martin’s a Martian.” This was very rarely used in “My Favorite Martians,” to the betterment of the show.
Also, in the original series pilot, landlady Mrs. Brown has two adolescent daughters who vanish from the show after a few episodes. The idea was for them to be regulars and watching the animated series gives us a feel of how “a bunch of teenage Earthlings” as TV Guide’s 1973 Fall Preview issue put it, would have worked on the show. In this animated series the kids are put to the best use, giving it the feel of the Sabrina/Archie cartoons with a sci-fi twist. (More on this in a future installment.)
The comedy (despite the annoying laugh track) plays pretty well with some jokes given a sophisticated twist that belies that this was essentially a kid’s show. And the Martian gimmicks are not over-used (and we do see the famous raising antenna!)
All-in-all, a charming half-hour which holds up well some 53 years later.
Now if only that magical civilization on Mars was real.
authorjeffbaker 