Poverty Rocks! (Rock n' Roll in Outer Space Book 1)

by Douglas Hardee

  “Radio Gaga” by Queen

  “Radio - radio

  I'd sit alone and watch your light

  My only friend through teenage nights

  And everything I had to know

  I heard it on my radio

  “You gave them all those old-time stars

  Through wars of worlds – invaded by Mars

  You made 'em laugh – you made 'em cry

  You made us feel like we could fly

  Radio

  “So don't become some background noise

  A backdrop for the girls and boys

  Who just don't know or just don't care

  And just complain when you're not there

  You had your time, you had the power

  You've yet to have your finest hour

  Radio – radio

  “All we hear is radio ga ga

  Radio goo goo

  Radio ga ga

  All we hear is radio ga ga

  Radio blah blah

  Radio what's new?

  Radio, someone still loves you

  “We watch the shows – we watch the stars

  On videos for hours and hours

  We hardly need to use our ears

  How music changes through the years

  “Let's hope you never leave old friend

  Like all good things on you we depend

  So stick around 'cause we might miss you

  When we grow tired of all this visual

  You had your time – you had the power

  You've yet to have your finest hour

  Radio – radio

  “You had your time - you had the power

  you’ve yet to have your finest hour

  Radio – radio”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Running on Empty

  I believe there is something out there watching us. Unfortunately, it's the government.

  –Woody Allen

  The federal agents who pulled up to Jericho's farm were armed to the teeth with the latest military grade equipment. Moving with drill team-like precision, the agents ran by Pastor Enoch Claiborne as he tried to insert himself into the unfolding drama. With one good heave of their battering ram, Jericho's front door came crashing in. Once in, they fanned out and searched each room thoroughly.

  Jericho Bright was nowhere to be seen.

  Pastor Claiborne waved to them from the back yard. "Something's out there next to the stream that runs out into the trees," Pastor Claiborne wailed. The federal agents walked cautiously through the yard and then into the wooded area where they could hear the stream running, and then they heard muffled sounds that became louder as they got further away from the house. Then they came upon the source of those sounds. There, in a clearing, was a man tied to a tree with a gag firmly placed in his mouth. His face was full of red welts where the mosquitos has extracted their payment for his lodging in their woods. Attached to the tree was an envelope in a plastic freezer bag.

  One of the federal agents took it off the tree. He opened it with care and called the pastor over. Together they read:

  "Pastor Claiborne, by the time you read this we'll be on our way to a new world, like the pilgrims once upon a time.

  “They braved the oceans depths to escape religious tyranny and to live as free men and women. You should take heed of that and get off your sanctimonious crusade to suppress the legitimate desires of people for rock 'n' roll. You call it ‘the devil's music.’ Some snobs call it ‘aural opiates for the bourgeois.’

  “Oh, by the way, this thug that you and whoever sent to kill me and Haskell was pretty slick; he had the latest cammo and a real nice AK plus a super fine Beretta M9A3 equipped with a threaded barrel for a sound suppressor and a 17-round mag. Ouch!

  “But, he never got the chance to pump those shells into my man Haskell or me. You see your imported executioner was unaware that he was coming to my place downwind. I smelled his cigarette from my kitchen. I never have liked the nasty things, haven't smelled nothing like that in ages. Roused my curiosity, especially since I felt like I was being followed lately. Well, he never knew what hit him when my blackjack went upside his head.

  “Wasn't in the mood to put out his lights permanently, so, I tied him up as a farewell present to you and your fed friends.

  “This was a hit that missed pastor.

  “By the way, in case you're reading this, FEDS, the good pastor supplied intel to this peckerwood so as to cause our demise.

  “Adios!

  “Jericho Bright, Haskell Land – Rock 'N' Roll Ambassadors"

  The Feds, having found no moonshine still or operation, looked at each and the pastor with what can only be described as incredulity. They had seen the drone photos of the entire setup in action just a day before.

  The Feds took Jimmy Sands into custody as Pastor Claiborne, now red-faced, lost any composure he had as he went into a full-throated rant. "You still have the evidence of their whisky bottles from that college kid's accident. You have the drone surveillance photographs showing them making their moonshine, and dispensing it into the same kind of bottle found in that boy's car. His father is a very powerful man and he wants these men's heads on a platter or else other heads will roll. Get my drift? The warrant for their arrest is still valid," said Pastor Claiborne.

  Over by their SUV, the Feds discussed what to do with Pastor Claiborne.

  Jimmy Sands sat in the squad car with his head still throbbing and stared out the window still unsure of what or who had hit him. He had never been taken by surprise like that.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  We Gotta Get Out of This Place

  You see, rock and roll isn't a career or hobby – it's a life force. It's something very essential.

  –The Edge

  Far away from rural Mississippi, Jericho paced the pristine floors of their hotel room on the outskirts of suburban Atlanta. They had fled to the sprawling southern city after cleaning up their tracks in the Magnolia State.

  He and Haskell really had no choice in getting away to Atlanta, as skipping town was really their only sure way out of prison. Sure, they might have beat the rap with a good lawyer and some lucky breaks, but why take the chance of at least five years in prison when perhaps a whole new better world beckoned.

  However, leaving Earth was not without heartache and complications.

  Haskell's love child, Eddy, was living with his mother and stepfather in Biloxi. He and the boy, who was now 13, had never been really close, but the few times he did see Eddy play baseball, it was a real thrill. He had looked forward to more of those get-togethers as he and Jericho were beginning to make some decent money.

  Jericho was leaving behind two children by his ex-wife Sonya. They were now in middle school in the Germantown area of Philadelphia. Jericho had pleaded with Sonya to leave Philly and come down to Mississippi, but, she had strong family ties there, and a good job as a vice-principal at an area high school. Plus, he was out of a job when his factory closed. The relationship had never been as good as it could have been, but he loved his daughters and had arranged to see them when possible. Their separation was amicable, which made it all the harder to leave Earth for another planet. He wanted to see his children graduate from high school, go to college, marry them off, but how could he pay for a wedding if he didn't have a job?

  Darlene, well, she could have about any man she wanted in any city in the country. She was that fine. She'd survive without me, thought Jericho, but I will admit, she's gon
na miss my kissing, because no one is going to top mine.

  No, life on Earth had few options for Jericho and Haskell in the present day.

  They were going to have to go full Lewis & Clark on Zeon, thought Haskell.

  What about his constant companion, Hubie? Well, that was a tough one, but he had reluctantly given Hubie over to Darlene, who had always cherished the dog and fed him those times when Jericho was traveling.

  "Keep him warm in winter and cool in summer, and God bless you both," said Jericho through teary eyes.

  "Will you be back?" said Darlene.

  Jericho walked over to the window. "I doubt it baby, I'm a wanted man. By the way, I signed over this place to you. The still is gone, but this land will have some real value in a few years. We didn't leave a shred of evidence linking us to criminal activity. Remember, half of this belongs to my children. I know you'll make sure they get what's coming to them if something comes along and you decide to sell," he said.

  "If this alien Zorbane can pick you up now, why couldn't he bring you back?" said Darlene.

  "Well, it wouldn't be for seven years when the statute of limitations runs out. And by then you'll probably have a family up and running by then," said Jericho.

  Darlene nodded her head slowly. The finality of losing the most unique and crazy fun guy she'd ever met began to dawn on her.

  Just then Haskell walked in. He nodded to them both. "Did you tell Darlene about The Boys Club?" said Haskell.

  "I was just about to," said Jericho. He walked over to his leather satchel and picked up a thick envelope and handed it to Darlene. "These are some of the funds from the sale to the Gaither family of our dismantled but totally tricked-out still and our primo secret customer list. That envelope goes to The Boys Club down by the river," said Jericho.

  "Bet you didn't know Jericho was such a generous type, did you, Darlene?” said Haskell.

  "Lots of Benjamins in there," said Jericho.

  Darlene took the envelope and kissed Jericho on the cheek. They all three walked to the middle of the room and closed their eyes, and held hands. Jericho, though not a church going man, recited Psalm 23:4. Except with his own unique take on the famous passage.

  “Even though I walk through the darkest valley,

  I will fear no evil, for you are with me and Haskell.

  And we shall have our own rods and staffs,

  And they comfort us as we shall spread the sounds of Mahalia, Fats, Buddy, Patsy, Elvis,

  Muddy and the rest.

  Long live rock 'n' roll.

  Amen.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Stardust Memories

  Haskell also had written his mother a letter. He asked Darlene to post it.

  The night before he had written:

  “Mom, I'm truly sorry I couldn't get by to say goodbye but the Feds are on my trail and there's no time for kisses and hugs. Just remember, when you look up at the stars at night, I'll be out there somewhere, cooking up shine like Uncle Sean and bringing music to a planet badly in need of some serious throw down sounds. The planet is named Zeon. It's a lot like Earth, in many ways. Climate-wise, it's nearly a dead ringer but having never been there, I'm not able to give you the complete lowdown. They're about 25 years ahead of us science-wise but as far as music goes, they never got around to rock 'n' roll, which is why Jericho and I have been summoned. I know I wasn't quite what you would have wanted in your only son, but Lord knows I meant to do well by you. Please say goodbye to my dear sisters, Veronica and Sandra. Thanks for raising me right and I'll always have you in my heart. Especially around the holidays, which you have always celebrated in the grandest way. Wish me well, Mom, and maybe someday I'll make a mark in this universe that will do you proud.

  Adios

  Love always,

  Haskell”

  Chapter Forty

  Jericho Sounds His Trumpet

  At one time, MTV was hip and suddenly it became outdated.

  –Prince

  As they drove across the Southwest after their Atlanta assignation with Darlene to their pick-up destination with Zorbane, Jericho began to get on a roll. Haskell loved it when his partner tapped into his inner philosopher king.

  "Haskell, I've been thinking," said Jericho as he looked out at the forever blue sky.

  Haskell smiled and stared straight out into the desert as the heat waves rose, making a perfect backdrop for Jericho's next mind journey.

  "Remember Mark Twain's definition of an expert?" said Jericho in his best frontier lawyer tone.

  Haskell smiled. "Some guy from out of town.”

  “That'll be you and me, experts on many subjects: music, cooking, romance, shooting, moon shining.”

  Haskell laughed and took a sip from his Thirst Buster soft drink. "Princes from another planet."

  "We're going to blaze new trails on Zeon, I tell ya that," said Jericho.

  Haskell and Jericho fist bumped like pumped up kids.

  Jericho resumed his ramble. "We'll be like Daniel Boone and Mathew Henson, boldly going where no one dared to venture before. Yes, my man, we are, and I'm thinking Zorbane and Trax share the same traits as us. We are all what are called Exotes."

  "Exote? Please elaborate on the meaning of that word, Jericho."

  "It means we are driven by some inner compulsion to seek out the exotic, the strange, the unfamiliar. Up there on Zeon, we will find redemption. All of our supposedly useless rock 'n' roll knowledge and expertise on most substances foreign will be a boon I expect. Yes, we will be properly valued at last. Our lack of a four-year degree won't mean diddly-squat compared with our vast knowledge of the practical world," said Jericho as he continued his sermon. “Haskell, people tell me you were so good at sports you didn't have to try most of the time. Now you'll be the toast of a new town.”

  Haskell smiled and stuck his hand out the window to feel the desert air.

  Jericho paused and continued. "I will say though that I have thought about this trip long and hard. It's not easy leaving family and friends like this. Courage can sit inside you until it's called out, like going door to door in a hail of automatic weapon fire."

  "This trip to Zeon will require the same kind of sand," said Haskell.

  "But hey bro, have you thought of this: suppose this was all a trap to get some Earthlings to experiment with, ever thought about that, Haskell?”

  Haskell glanced back at his partner.

  "What if this whole music-loving alien’s late-night visitation was just an act, a ruse? Hell, anybody for miles around could tell me and you were music nuts," laughed Jericho.

  Haskell paused, nodded, and took another draw off his drink. Jericho had a point, he thought. Zorbane, as sincere and bright-eyed as he was, could be putting us on. "You have a point, there, Jericho. I too have considered that possibility, and reached out to the one person I know who can literally read minds. For us to get at Zorbane's real intentions, I've arranged a meeting between Zorbane and Louise Barrillot, the Cajun gypsy woman," he said with a smile.

  "Dang, you read my mind, Haskell. Pardon the bad pun. Louise is the foremost conjurer and voodoo priestess in these parts. Doesn't hurt either that she can turn most any man with a pulse into mush when she puts her mind to it. That is one fine-looking, intelligent woman, and, I might add, an exote as well."

  Haskell looked out the window, reminiscing about his wild week with Louise in the French Quarter. It's something neither he nor Louise had ever shared with anyone. "Yes, she can bring the heat no question about that. If anyone can get to the truth from a man, it's The Cajun Lady," said Haskell with just a twinge
of jealousy.

  "We have a duty as rock 'n' roll prophets," Jericho continued, "to guide the Zeonese through the quicksand and rocky passes that are part and parcel of our music, in order to be good stewards. Let's get down to it; we owe it to these people to skip MTV for their planet. It's a juncture of Earth's evolution that I'm not particularly keen on. It was an aberration, making videos when the song's lyric and vibe let you paint your own mental picture. I mean, do you really need a video for most of Marvin Gaye's work? 'What's Going On?' paints this vivid street scene where Marvin is grooving at a party, talking to his homies about the state of things in the neighborhood? No video could capture the soaring melody and universal feel that the music gives off. 'Sexual Healing” is first-rate porn set to rhythm.