12.19.2023

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II

 The Alien 

Although it did not sense light in the same way the humans did, the Alien (earth name: Hortense) knew there was a difference between the waking time and the sleeping time. The latter tended to guarantee Hortense’s security as it explored the barren and it thought, beautiful desertscape which the humans referred to as “Las Vegas.” 

Hortense was not visible to the usual human eye. Some humans could see it though, it had deduced, displeased, one late night as its placid stroll through the desert had been unceremoniously disturbed, soiled really, by a screaming earthling teenager who, apparently through some genetic mutation, was able to detect its nearly three story high presence as Hortense had been enjoying its vacation from its distant home. 

The teenaged mutant human female had been with her earthling male companion of similar age and rotundness, who could not see Hortense, and a terse argument between the couple had ensued. 

The alien missed its significant other, who had not been able to make the journey due to administrative issues with work at the time Hortense had departed its home, magnitudes of light years from Earth. 

In addition to having its equanimity disturbed the night before, by having been observed in the desert by the mutant human as Hortense had attempted to leisure, it also was currently experiencing a sense of unease. The waking time had just quite abruptly become the sleeping time. Hortense had reviewed a detailed schedule of when this was supposed to occur and the sudden darkness it was now witnessing was not on that schedule, undoubtedly

Where was that graveyard again? With the aid of its exogalactic phone, Hortense navigated toward the alien graveyard in the unanticipated dark of the American desert. Hortense had heard it was a must see if one was to vacation in these parts. As it had been making its way to the graveyard, Hortense had sensed something unusual about the building in which Fegefuere's Emporium resided. Hortense had unexpectedly sensed the glittering building posed a threat to its existence.  

The cumulative effects of: the waking time quite abruptly becoming the sleeping time, the panicked teenaged mutant, and also the unease it felt as it passed the Emporium, was a foreboding, an unexpected sense of oddity and unease which Hortense was determined to overcome, lest it undermine its trip.

Would this abrupt change of light further disrupt its vacation it wondered, inwardly groaning at the expense of interstellar travel. 



Vencesla In her hotel room 

Vencesla relaxed in her hotel room, in her favorite red satin bathrobe, emblazoned with her family crest, smiling up at the ceiling, greatly delighted by her accommodations. She would take the escalator to her spa appointment in less than an hour and was greatly anticipating this treat of relaxation. What kinds of products do they make available for purchase, she wondered, dreamily gazing up at the Art Deco lighting in her strip facing suite. 

The night before, Vencesla had seen her Grandfather in a dream, which almost never happened. Grandfather was burning in hell and had urged her to pray for her mother, his daughter, so her afterlife could be better, perhaps comprised of cooking and dancing rather than eternal hellfire and damnation. 

Vencesla, with effort, remembered with an increasing degree of specificity the unfamiliar and extremely vivid dream, recalling suddenly that in the dream she had been holding his hand as a little girl. This caused Vencesla to shudder involuntarily, recalling the many times Grandfather's behavior had terrorized her. She had spent her childhood at his enormous home. He made up lurid lies and told them to her mother in front of little Vencesla and she had grown up with ever aggrandizing fear when her mother continued to  accept all of it and never questioned him. Grandfather had often acted with the intention of instilling fear in Vencesla, and in isolating her. The memory of it, of him, his power over her, had abated as the years without him accumulated, however, unexpected reminders of him were still cause for cognitive dissonance. 

Vencesla smiled and patted her pillow, thinking of the cab she had taken to where she had collected her rental car. Grandfather would have been angered beyond toleration to know Vencesla was driving a car on her own; he had not allowed her mother ever to operate a car, and even now, years after his death, Vencesla’s mother did not operate machinery on her own. 

Perhaps driving freely through the Las Vegas dessert, albeit very carefully, is what had brought forth the dream from her unconscious, she mused, as she quietly rode the escalator to the spa level. 

Vencesla experienced a nasty jolt when, upon entering the spa, she was greeted by a male spa attendant who bore a startling resemblance to her late grandfather. 

As Vencesla made her way to the spa, back home, Vencesla’s mother took her last breath, felled by an aortic catastrophe. However, Vencesla would not learn of this until later. 

Another spa attendant, a woman, led Vencesla away from the Grandfather doppelgänger, to a comfortable waiting area where Vencesla was given a preparation of lemon and hot water and she sat, attempting to shake off the feeling of anxious foreboding she had intensely experienced moments earlier, upon having seen the Grandfather doppelgänger. 

As Vencesla was selecting a magazine to peruse, seated in a spa issued fluffy robe, the entire spa went dark. Dios mio, she thought, frowning and clenching her jaw and placing her hands to her lips, how foolish of her to have believed, even for a moment, that seeing him in a dream would not portend greater troubles. 

The last blackout for Vencesla had been back home at one of the local malls, and although she had been okay, Vencesla had later learned that several people had been mugged in the chaos. No stores had been looted, however, unlike when a much longer and more terrifying blackout had taken place two years prior. 

Vencesla’s heart raced as her body unconsciously recoiled, in anticipation of a worst case scenario perhaps beyond anything she had even contemplated. The mirrored ceiling above her, which only a few brief moments before had delighted her, now reflected back the startled face of a terrified, petite, young lady. 

Just as unexpectedly, a series of emergency lights began to dimly illuminate the spa waiting room. Vencesla was as astonished as she was relieved by the speed at which the blackout in the desert had been met with preparation. 


Precious & Alfonse in the Hotel Lobby II 

“Do you think it’s for a movie, Alfonse?” 

Puzzled, Precious surveyed the glitzy din in the lobby of the five star hotel. Even as darkness had enveloped the large lounge, many patrons seemed to continue partaking. 

As it was not visible to her from the two tone velvet, damask and crystal adorned bar, Precious could not tell if the gambling on the casino floor had been interrupted.

Alfonse had gotten up and Precious was able to make out his silhouette in the darkened lounge. The dim lighting was the reason she initially thought they had inadvertently entered a film shoot in progress. 

It happened all the time at home, she thought, quizzically surveying her surroundings. 


Fegefeuer’s Blackout 

A trembling and shaking began to overcome Fegefeuer’s Emporium. There was a loud rumbling thunderous sound as Fegefeuer’s eyes widened and perspiration collected on his brow, and then shock

At first Fegefeuer had though it was a rare Las Vegas earthquake, however the sight he now beheld said different. 

The rumbling continued, and the smoke Fegefuere had so assiduously arranged for had begun to billow away from an emerging center of activity, not far from the first aisle of the Emporium. Fegefeuer could not believe what he was seeing, and he struggled to retain his composure. 

In the center of what had been the first aisle, the ground was opening and light and stone were emerging, and dirt spewed out, like a darkened volcano. The fog continued to clear and a hill began to emerge and grow out of the chasm that had erupted. It was more than a crack in the floor of the first aisle; the first aisle was gone, the carpeting was gone and a craggy hill was rapidly emerging and growing into a two story, then three story, hill. 

The fog continued to clear. Fegefeuer was terrified. Still attempting to compose himself, he outstretched his hand before him.

The hill continued to emerge from the ground and pierced and then collapsed the roof of the Emporium. Streams of intense sunlight crashed the tableau. 

A grinding sound continued, and then louder, and louder, and finally the desert sky was suddenly visible to Fegefeuer, who looked up in trembling horror. 

Everything then became dark, as the streaming light disappeared and Fegefeuer caught his breath and clutched his hand to his chest in the unexpected moonlit desert evening. 

What is happening? His mind raced.

Below the Emporium was Fegefeuer's cellar, where seven rows of desks and computer equipment sat, accommodating Fegefeuer's other pursuit. When Fegefeuer wasn't selling pool noodles he was composing and debugging lines upon lines of computer code under Las Vegas Boulevard.


To Be Continued


(Editor's Note: The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium is fiction)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II (Available December 20, 2023)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium III (Available January 20, 2024)


11.20.2023

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

 Part 1 The Emporium

The Emporium

Crossing the threshold into Fegefeuer’s Emporium from the breezy, mid afternoon sunshine of the Las Vegas spring, the smoky quality of the Emporium air was immediately palpable. Fegefeuer had installed the fog machine to achieve that effect, precisely. 

The Emporium sat between the famed strip and the vintage neon downtown, closer to the strip. The one story stucco building was flanked to the north by a large parking lot for Emporium patrons. Fegefeuer’s was visited, alternately, by downtown tourists who undertook the long walk south, and strip tourists who drove, or also sometimes walked, a short distance north, either often quite without the express intent to end up there. 

In the lot next to the strip an ageless restaurant operated, and sometimes the restaurant employees, as well its patrons, also wandered into the Emporium. 

In addition to the capacious array of “Las Vegas” emblazoned souvenirs, such as pool noodles, coffee mugs, mouse pads, translucent red-orange sun visors, stainless steel water bottles, shot glasses, and all manner of keychains, Fegefeuer had more recently cordoned off a west facing portion of the store, which was now contributing robustly to the enterprise as a pawn shop. He had previously opened, and subsequently, recently closed a lost and found in the Emporium.

Below the artificial scented fog, in the west facing portion of the Emporium, previously owned items for purchase, mostly higher end accessories, sat inside a glass vitrine, beckoning obstreperous and silent shoppers alike. 

On this particular afternoon, Vencesla Tovar, the only South American granddaughter of an absconded Nazi war criminal, was trying on a straw hat. It was her first visit to the United States, and although she took care to neither share nor perpetuate her antecedent’s widely outlawed views, she was still more like him than not, especially against the contrast of the sunny American desert. 

Taking a few more minutes to pick up some trinkets for the maid and her kids, and for her elderly widowed mother, Vencesla planned to drive back to her hotel afterwards. She almost never drove in Latin America. At home, an orphan the family had taken in usually conducted this task for her. Vencesla had been unable to procure a US tourist visa for him to take the vacation with her, and thus found herself in the position of operating a rental car, slowly and carefully, along the wide, orderly Las Vegas streets. 

Later, Vencesla had tickets to attend an elaborate theater like production,“The Bunny Dolores Show.” Attending that event had been the primary reason she had traveled to the United States. Vencesla had been fascinated with the elaborate stage production for years, following the artists’ growing popularity on television, and it seemed increasingly unlikely they would ever offer their performances in her hometown. 

Vencesla had considered, and decided against, traveling with a tourist group. She had concluded it was best to not get mixed up with people she did not really know, particularly so far from home. 

“The hat suits you” said Fegefeuer, approaching the only patron currently in the Emporium.


“Do you have any more?” Vencesla inquired, in heavily accented but well practiced English. “I would like seven, please.” At this she held up seven fingers, just in case her communication/pronunciation was more deficient than she anticipated.


Delighted, Fegefeuer assisted her in collecting six more of the “Las Vegas” emblazoned hats from the aisle display.


“If you purchase ten, I can give you a free ...” 

A jolt of thunderous lightning cut through Fegefeuer’s sales pitch, startling him into silence. A moment and a half later, he had not resumed, and it began to rain loudly and voluminously— it rained, it seemed, desperately

“A free water bottle?” Vencesla asked, smiling. 

“Two free tickets to see a new tourist attraction that opens at the end of the month, they are good for a year.” 

“Yes, please, thank you.” Vencesla answered, thinking about the size of her soft shell luggage and how it might accommodate the several hats. 

At the register, her back to the entrance of Fegefeuer’s Emporium, the uncommon sound of heavy rain continued to pour down, crashing, splashing, dramatically punctuating their conversation. A bell jingled. It was an indication that another patron had entered the store. 

Her attention momentarily drawn to the tall narrow mirror behind Fegefuere, Vencesla Tovar noticed the reflection of a couple entering the Emporium. 

Precious wore a pastel velour track suit and satin high heeled sandals. He wore golf pants and a polo top in similar pastel hues. A golf umbrella he was now folding and depositing into an umbrella urn that Fegefeuer almost never had to think about had shielded the couple from the rain in the glitchy moment when they stepped between their luxury vacation car rental and the threshold of the Emporium. 

“Well, Precious, what would you like to bring back for your soon to be step-children?”


“Alfonse, you are bossing me around again, you know how I don’t like that,” her silky voice conveying only mild disapproval, her lip gloss glistening. 

“Take your time, Precious. Afterwards we will go for Margaritas in the hotel lobby and talk about what will become of them after our honeymoon.” He was smiling as his well manicured hands brushed a few drops of water from the front of his cashmere polo. Slowly he rotated his entire head, from one shoulder to another as he inquisitively looked up and around the Emporium. “Will you get a load of that fog, Precious?” 

What could she deign to bring back as a souvenir for those brats, she wondered silently. Over a board game during the holidays one of his two children had decided it was somehow appropriate to make light of World War Two era concentration camps. She thought their natural mom must have been responsible for this malaise but at this particular moment kept her observations from her relaxed, widowed, mild mannered fiancé. 

Across from the register a terrarium sat atop a burled walnut wall unit; in the terrarium lived a red, white and black milksnake, which Fegefuere had named after himself. 

Fegefeuer the Snake usually went unnoticed, however on some occasions he had startled the customers. 

When Precious realized she was looking at a snake she had almost cried out, and her hand momentarily, involuntarily, covered her full mouth. She wasn’t so much repulsed as surprised, and immediately walked away from the terrarium and reminded herself to resume her search for souvenirs. Her fluted heeled satin sandals left a faint indentation in the deep pink rug of the Emporium as her perception consciously followed her line of sight, to an aisle of sporting goods: Golf balls. Terrific for Alfonse, she thought, drawing a complete blank on the idea of gifting for his kids, and she started to feel anxious about it, and then she suddenly saw the ping pong paddle sets emblazoned with the words “Las Vegas” and concluded immediately they would be a perfect souvenir for them. 


Precious & Alfonse in the Hotel Lobby 


Later in the gilded hotel lobby, Precious and Alfonse each sat comfortably and somewhat formally in swiveling plush velveted club chairs, sipping margaritas and passing a travel tourism brochure back and forth amongst one another. An older, thin, heavily made up woman in a chartreuse sequin headdress had handed it to Precious earlier on Las Vegas Boulevard. 

The rain from the late afternoon sky had briefly abated before again resuming, and traffic on the strip was a tangled and uncharacteristically slippery mess. 

Although Precious carefully planned their leisure time on this, and the many vacations they took together, the couple still found the local, more impromptu possibilities intriguing. They were currently considering whether it might be worthwhile to attend “The Bunny Dolores Show.” 

The heavy crystal goblet she held was faceted with images of tikki masks and encrusted with natural crystals. Precious’ coral nail fingertips left opaque impressions on the condensation on the stem of the very cold goblet as she took another long sip of her freezing, nearly colorless margarita. 

“What if we find out if we can get on this Lake Mead tour last minute? We don’t have any plans for tomorrow morning.” 

“We left the morning open in case we had too many margaritas and wanted to sleep in, isn’t that how you remember it, Precious? I think this one is already stronger than the last three I had at Firefly’s going away party. It’s not advisable to get in one of those tiny planes in that condition.” 

“We’re in Las Vegas, Honeybear, it’s okay if we over indulge a little.” 

“Agreed! We’ll take the tour next time. Let’s sleep late tomorrow and order room service.”

And, as Precious was carefully placing her heavy, condensation covered goblet back on the smoked glass cocktail table, the lights began to dim in the hotel lobby bar. The change of atmosphere was immediately apparent as there were no windows anywhere. Quiet darkness quickly and dramatically enveloped the space. 

Before the blackout the well heeled crowd had basked in the light of several large overhead handmade chandeliers, as well as additional sconce lighting distributed along the walls of the chamber, underscoring the etched texture of the casino wall coverings.




The Alien 

Although it did not sense light in the same way the humans did, the Alien (earth name: Hortense) knew there was a difference between the waking time and the sleeping time. The latter tended to guarantee Hortense’s security as it explored the barren and it thought, beautiful desertscape which the humans referred to as “Las Vegas.”  

Hortense was not visible to the usual human eye. Some humans could see it though, it had deduced, displeased, one late night as its placid stroll through the dessert had been unceremoniously disturbed, soiled really, by a screaming earthling teenager who, apparently through some genetic mutation, was able to detect its nearly three story high presence as Hortense had been enjoying its vacation from its distant home.  

The teenaged mutant human female had been with her earthling male companion of similar age and rotundness, who could not see Hortense, and a terse argument between the two had ensued.


To Be Continued


(Editor's Note: The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium is fiction)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II (Available December 20, 2023)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium III (Available 2024)


🦃  Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃












10.10.2023

Happy Halloween

 Happy Halloween! A tiny bit early 🎃 


Please enjoy "Renwick The Exorcist" A Halloween Tale in 3 Parts:


“Renwick The Exorcist” I

http://stanza28.blogspot.com/2021/08/renwick-exorcist-i.html


“Renwick The Exorcist” II

http://stanza28.blogspot.com/2021/09/renwick-exorcist-ii.html


"Renwick The Exorcist" III

http://stanza28.blogspot.com/2021/10/renwick-exorcist-iii.html


Renwick is available for readers to freely enjoy on the s28 blog, now in its 18th year  🎃 

and soon (details forthcoming at the appropriate time) look for Renwick, at your local bookstore  🎃 



5.14.2023

🐕 Protecting Puppy Noses 🐕

Weekend salutations, all! While enjoying a lovely walk along the East River on a recent beautiful afternoon, a poisonous plant that had made its way along the river shore, and up to the concrete street level partition became apparent. 


Protect your pupster’s nose, and yourself, from contracting contact dermatitis or other painful conditions. 


Know a poisonous plant when you see one:


Poison IVY OAK SUMAC



Your puppy's nose will thank you!






Poison IVY OAK SUMAC
















2.11.2023

DIY Hostess/Host Gift

Giving A Cybersecurity Conference Swag Bag

 New Life 

Take that unused conference swag bag and transform it into a thoughtful special occasion hostess gift!


Utilize this simple process to create a gift for your favorite cook:



Supplies:


Hot Glue Gun

2 Extra Long Glue Sticks 

18 x 14 x 4 Swag Bag

Hairpins

1/2 An Hour- 2 Hours Depending on Embellishments.


Optional:


Hook eye closure

Pockets



The Basic Plan:


Using a scissor, cut the bag vertically down its two sides. You should now be able to lay it flat. Trim to desired length, with a 1/4 or half inch seam allowance at the bottom. (You can stand in front of a mirror and use a hairpin to indicate the desired length on the now flat bag and cut across; a tape measure is not required.)


With the bag wrong side up and laid flat, use hairpins to outline a seam on each side and at the bottom hem. (Optional: Depending on the material of the swag bag, you can iron the seams into place). Using a glue gun, hem these three sides.


Take 2 equal sides of length from the unused side portion of the bag to cut two long rectangles. Pin these as if you were making fabric binding. (Fold in on each side, glue, fold again, glue. Make certain to leave a space in the middle that is not glued, this will make the adhesive more effective with some swag bag materials which may be coated).


Once each piece of binding is created, glue to each side- around where one’s ribcage is. You may desire to add a stitch or two.


That’s it! You’ve created a practical gift for your favorite cook. 









Optional:


Neck Tie:


One of your swag bag handles becomes the loop that fits around the neck when this piece is utilized as an apron. 


Depending on your time allotted for this activity, your skillset, and preference, you may: 1. Sever the handle so the wearer will tie it in the back 2. Not sever the handle and add a hook and eye closure to adjust the fit. You may use velcro, which is quick and easy, however you will not be able to put this item in with the rest of your laundry if you do, because it may snag the fabric of your other items.


Pocket:


Try on the apron in progress and use a hairpin to indicate where on the apron you think a pocket could be functional and aesthetically pleasing. To add one or two heart shaped patch pockets, create a paper pattern of a heart, use it to cut the desired amount of hearts from a fabric of your choosing, and affix the pockets with hot glue. Reinforce larger pockets with a few handstiches. 


Utilize your glue gun to create an outline of the pocket, and paint the outline. (Here, a blue black enamel paint was used to paint the raised heart outline.)