'Dangerous illusions within a sphere,' they called it! It was 1997, Sulla had fragments coming into his mind, disjointed fragments, in dream and illusionary form, and so he conjectured, presupposed, he was losing his mind, he was living at the time in Roseville, Minnesota, on Larpenteur Street, in a two bedroom apartment, or at least that is what he would have told anyone had they asked him, because it is what he believed. He lived there with his mother. He had talked to a psychologist about this, and they simply told him, in time it would all pass, thus, he took a different approach, he sought within his dream world, to talk to a psychological seer, to get to his problem.

This story you are about to read has more truth to its twists, than you may want to believe, and let me add to that, the main character, George W.G., would have said: there was a time that every American could be proud of the construction of the Panama Canal, if for anything beyond that, since America has given that away, such pride must ferment in the knowledge and information, by which the original object and purpose was attained. This story, "The Man on the Locks," is rather simple and to the point. But first for those folks that are not all that familiar with the Panama Canal, I must give you a quick overview, and quick it will be.

Enrique Tapia came up to Ozark, Alabama in 1844 from Lima, Peru; he bought himself a restaurant from old man Ritt, the Banker in town; Enrique was a medium size fellow in height, with a large belly area, clean shaven and big hands. He was a good cook but didn't look much like a cook even with his apron on. He lived above the restaurant, and took his meals in the back, while his sixteen-year old daughter, Ximena took care of the customers; his wife had died early on during Ximena's formative years.

In the City Palace, is the chamber of the Harem, its original intention was to allow royal ladies to observe everyday life in the street below without being seen, also known as Hawa Mahal, or better known as "The Hall of the Winds." Our story takes place in Jaipur, India, in the year 1799, within these walls, they were constructed of red pink limestone, and is five stories tall, the palce has the most beautiful face in the world for a structure.

Along the coast of the Adriatic Sea lives what now is called the "poskok,' better known as the 'Jumping Serpent'. These creatures are some five-feet long and to my understanding can jump some three feet in the air and leap some five-feet in any direction they wish, simply by aiming at whatever, wherever. But this didn't happen by chance, this really and truly happened by necessity. And this is the tale you are about to hear, the 'why,' of it, how it came about. And to be quite honest, you will be the first to hear of it. It entails also Mr. Goose whom you have already been introduced to, slightly introduced to I should say. (Note: this story was written 2002, reedited 2006, and rewritten and reedited 7-2008).

Dr. Adelmo and Professor Jesus Vega, were two retired scientists in the Mantaro Valley of Peru, surrounded by the Andes, they lived perhaps fifty years ago. They had both heard a of legend in the mines of the Andes, that the little people known as the Amuc, had water that came from the Giants of Old.

The Author’s first story of Arizona Blue in over eleven-months
(Arizona Blue stores are on over 226-internet sites)

The last day at Fort Bragg, Smiley was by me, we got on the bus together to go to the airport, and for once, they (the Drill Sergeants) were respectable gentlemen whom expected to see better days, now that we were going,

I had gone to the beer hall this first Saturday evening after returning to Basic Training Camp, from Christmas leave. The Captain was there, I had heard he showed up now and then, but not often, and this was perhaps my third time in the beer hall myself, I preferred the EM Club to the hall, more sedate.

In the barracks it was chilly. The Drill Sergeants smell worst. I knew my smell. Why be polite, it was long days in back of me and in front, long days running, and today I had to run around a field three times, two miles each lap, six miles complete, in some specified time, can’t remember it exactly. I took a number of salt tablets as I ran; some of the men were eating chocolate, to keep their energy up. I quickly learned running was part of the Army, like white on rice.

(It is always the sound of the bugle that awakens one in the morning, called reveille, in the Army, the sound to make formation that begins the day, a signal that it is time to get out of bed, summoned to duty. And all one sees in the morning, as one prepares for the second day of duty is shapes and outlines of military personnel in a camp; or so it was for me.)

When we arrived at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, Basic Training, Camp, the Fall of ’69, we were greeted (we, being, a number of us who had come from the Minneapolis, Minnesota’s Army Recruiting Station, now coming off the bus)

Assuming I am still sane, and was sane at the time this took place, I shall try to explain to you, what had taken place, which has not befallen any man to my knowledge in quite the same way, ever.