Date: Fri, 24 Jun 2005 20:22:13 -0700
From: B Keeper <silvershimmer@earthlink.net>
Subject: Welcome Home--Where You Been

		      "Welcome Home--Where You Been?"
				    by
			     Timothy Stillman


"You sure, Tommy?"

"Sure. Brudda would not lie. Lie here beside me."

"On the dewy grass."

"With me, Brit. We gonna watch history."

They lay on the grass, only in pajama bottoms. Shorties,
the pajamas and Brit. Brit was two years younger. He was
11. He had a burr haircut. He was a little meaty. He was
going to be an astronaut one fine day. He had been on the
Vomit Comet at Huntsville and had not vomited as he
swung round and round, didn't need to be strapped in like
the little kids, made him mad, his own private little
universe, and no one could get through the door to it,
unless he said so. And the kids screamed and their hair
flew in funnels and their clothes rippled and they couldn't
breathe. And they felt like they were dying.

And it was so frickin' cool. Like Tommy now. Lying
beside him.; Their much older brother, Tim AKA Brudda,
out there at the space center, out there this night of July 4,
when the world would change and the dinosaurs would
take their rightful place here again. And humans--save for
the two bros--kaput-gone-so long Charlie Earthworm.
The Rex will stomp down and the heavens will spit gut
spring open.

Brit had, as was his wont to do, his little hand resting in
Tommy's pajamas, holding Tommy's `rection. Tommy
smiled. Little squirt could not even pronounce erection
right. But he was a little sweet puppy. And he had a heart
as soft outdoors when the summer sun gets to it, and the
paint starts to get runny and kind of nice and friendly and
homey.

"Our names really goin' be there?"

"Brudda said."

Tommy's hand went to Brit's little penis, already hard.
They liked being almost naked on the grass of July 3,
close to eleven thirty p.m.

The grass was springy. The night had lots of stars.
Tommy made sure and sure again they were facing in the
right direction to see it. To see the rocket hit the comet.
Looking for that comet so hard their eyes almost had
black shadows in the back of them. To see their names
and many thousands of others race speed scream demon
demolish road derby hot rod like a zillion miles an hour
straight into that dirty old comet of ice and who knows
what--which was the idea for the probe--to see what
exactly it was made of.

"Nobody knows?" Brit.

"Nobody's sure. You'd think we would by now. But we
don't."

"It gonna hit us," and Brit chilled a little in the hot humid
air and his penis pole wavered a little.

Tommy gave it an extra squeeze and it stood firm again.

"Sure, it's like fifteen million miles away from us.....so
you know what, Brit?"

Brit looked over at his brother. And there was such
innocence in Brit's eyes, looking at Tommy's eyes that
didn't look as innocent anymore, even from six months
ago, or three maybe, and Brit didn't know what it meant,
but was glad Tommy pretended to still have the innocence
there, therefore it was so. The boys loved science fiction
shows, and Brit thought, "Make it so, Tommy, please
make it so."

"It's coming that close, so--"then Tommy scared the life
out of Brit and jumped at him from the side, which
freaked Brit who had never seen his bro do that or anyone
on TV or movies do that; it was like a super nova fast
scuttle of a spider, and Brit screamed his reedy voice, and
Tommy was lying his perspiring body on the perspiring
body of his bro. And Tommy was like Adonis standing
straight up at the stars, though in truth Tommy was a bit
chubby and had red hair that had a cowlick and some
freckles that didn't look too good, kinda big and blotchy,
but to Brit, Tommy was the world and everything in it,
but now Brit's heart was pounding as fast as the space
ship heading toward the comet----and he thought Tommy
had lost his mind, had become a gigantic Outer Space
SPIDER, OH GOD, when his bro screamed out--"here
that comet comessssssss--so you better duckkkkkkkkk."

And he ruffled the little boy with hands suddenly cold as
winter winds ruffling leaves and he rolled him over and
laughed and held him tightly and the scent of Tommy was
safety, and the scent of Tommy was his bro again, and
they laughed and rolled like topsy turvy rides at
amusement parks, and Brit thought, oh god Tom, Tom,
Tommy?, Tom?, who are you?, push the thought back,
Brit this is summer and their Brudda got their names on a
CD-ROM heading toward a comet, gonna smash a
projectile right into it, gonna stick hard and deep right in
the cowardly thing's eye, and gonna take pictures of it up
close, like the Mars pictures, and the ship is going to
maybe keep up with the comet and the projectile dug into
it, and we are gonna see it fly and fly and we take a little
concourse of the universe this way. A piece of the Grand
Tour.

Yes sir. The flyboys are the robot boys, but so what? They
carry our hearts in their vast cool intellectual chests, and
that's what counts.

And two boys with their names up there in the black and
starry and big mooned night, gonna get smashed into
history, gonna see the ship, gonna see the comet, any
second, now, please God any second now; gonna make a
deal with Man and God and when they did, when they got
to that eleven thirty mark, Tommy had checked his watch
by Greenwich time over and over again before he came
outside, to get it on the dot, cause JPL sure would, and
they were little boys on a little planet and it wasn't much
but Brudda had got their souls in that CD-ROM, and
anything could happen--they could be whisked away right
to that comet, to see the ingredients of the thing up close
inches away, all that fire, and speed and power, and life
making and life killing dust, breathing in the un-breath of
space, that had been circling the space stars for billions of
years, and scientists at NASA were going to maybe figure
out a little more about that big bang theory.

And the earth was two boys and the boys rolling and
laughing and their pajama bottoms half off anyway, so
they pulled them all the way off. Their house being the
only one in the cul-de-sac, and their parents out with
Brudda to see it up close and knuckle gnawingly second
by second, but Tom, no, Tommy, and Brit, astronaut,
were naked on the grass now in the light of magic, in the
age of science fiction come true.

"And what we gonna do, Tom, Tommy?" Tommy. Not
Tom. Why was he calling him Tom recently? Tommy had
always been called Tommy by everyone. And their legs
giggled. And their stomachs rumbled with the orange soda
they now drank from the bottle they had on the broken
sidewalk with the grass tufts creeping through, and little
ants almost in the middle of the night, still in their book of
creation only being for them and nothing else mattered,
none of the miracles mattered. That man could guide ships
millions of miles away, send out robots to take pictures of
Mars, of the Rings of Saturn, of the depths of space no
one could measure with brain and eye, but there it was
anyway. Stupid ants, stupid as hell.

And they loved each other. Brother to brother. Brudda
might as well have been an adult by the tome Brit and
Tommy got old enough to know him, and then Brudda
was gone, and Tommy said:

"Gonna be an astronaut, Brit?" as he kissed the sweet hair
of the boy mixed with boy hair smell and onion smell and
fried summer air.

"Gonna be a `naut." And Brit and Tommy were lying side
by side again.

"Astronaut."

"Naut." Brit said haughtily, knowing his brother was
kidding him.

"Nut."

"Nut, yourself, specially these." And Brit bent over and
lay his face on his brother's rection and balls. They were
nice and warm, as Tommy put his hand on his brother's
curving side and hip, and they lay there like that for a long
time.

"We gonna cum when eleven thirty p.m. gets here?" Brit
asked, blowing hot breath on Tommy's nut sacs.

Tommy was silent for a while, wanting Brit to take his
hard on in his mouth. He took it and put his hand at Brit's
face, so Brit took it inside and wiggled it around his baby
teeth still.

"No, don't think so. They'd be expecting that." Mad
scientist determination in Tommy's voice.

Brit took his brother's hard on out of his mouth.

"Who?"

"The aliens who are watching this, of course."

Brit laughed though he didn't get it, though he was afraid
there would be a nightmare in there for him some night
not long from now when it would percolate through his
dreams and come in and BITE HIM. But he was suckling
again.

Tommy stroked his brother's tiny finger length erection
and Brit sucked Tommy off, and Brit looking up the body
of his brother saw Tommy nod, and he eased off Tommy's
penis and rubbed it hard and Tommy groaned and his
body shook a little, and then the lift off, and nothing came
out yet. Both boys looked closely. Nada. The street lamp
gave them enough light to see by.

Tommy lowered his head to the ground again, and Brit
mashed his little wiggle worm body next to his brother's.

And said:

"It'll be soon, Tommy. Real soon." And lay his head on
his brother's now fast rising and lowering chest.

Tommy checked his illuminated watch face. He looked at
his brother.

"Five more minutes, Brit. You feel anything yet."

" `Sauraus stomping?"

"Yep." Tommy tried to come out of his disappointment, it
was stupid to let the night be wrecked cause a little bit of
useless cream hadn't come out. The feeling was good
anyway. That was what Brit always said when his bro
blew him, but Tommy was Tom, not so deeply inside
anymore, at skin surface more and more, and Brit would
not be the `naut, but Tommy would, Tom would, and Brit
would be reading comic books still and science fiction
paperbacks and going to Star Wars movies and all of that
and Tom would be taking Brit's place in the sky, the sky,
and he felt a moment, did Tom,  a deep well of betrayal
that he was already guilty of, but that was the mission of
big brother and little brother, and they couldn't be kids
forever. It wasn't Tom's fault. He would give his brother
pieces of stars and space and planets everytime he came
earthside. Wasn't that enough? Well?

As Brit lay there and thought, we will be kids forever.
And Tommy blew his little brother, which surprised Brit
who was not expecting it, and Brit giggled and wiggled
his naked ass on the green green grass of wet night and
the boy came almost instantly and Tom blew him again,
whisper soft winds of space from Tom's mouth, Tom
would be legend and here very very soon, and Brit would
be famous because he would always be in his hero's
shadow and just the fact Brit was his brother would make
Brit have a very happy life.

Brit's body bobbled. And Tom held the thrusting dick,
and then they huddled together, like Indians round a
teepee, and they glued their eyes to the watch of Tom, the
time keeper of space, and they listened to the silence of
the crickets and thought those stupid little noise makers
won't know what hit them when the `saurs came back to
earth, when Project Deep Impact (which Brudda and the
men and women who worked for him called unofficially
"One  for the Dinosaurs" because one theory was the
`saurs were killed because of a comet.

And when Brudda told his bros that, they thought it was
so neat, and Tom and Brit, mostly Brit, had decided the
`saurs would come back tonight, shake little mankind off
the world, and take their rightful place, all that steel
armament, all the growls and tearings asunder of flesh and
shaking the world have to pieces, primeval swamps and
lizards to be tossed down like French fries, and the
animals with named neither boy could spell would be there
and the world of Thunder Lizards returned to get it right,
all death machines, and eating machines, and all those
`saurs broken bones and scars and rips deep in them from
the teeth of their enemies and man that would be the
coolest thing in the world and the world would be a blood
bath of monsters and it would never end, the comet would
be smashed into a million miles an hour.

And the comet would have this door in it, and the door
would be smashed open by the projectile, and the
monsters would come screaming and bellowing and huge
leagues high and blood in their eyes and they would take
one giant leap from the open comet door and be standing
on earth, their once and future domain, and the `saur
blood would rain on the names on the CD-ROM, only two
names though, which would be Tom and Brit or Brit and
Tom, depending on who was sending the prayer up to
holy God like they had at bedtime, on their knees for the
last six months, never missed at night begging God for it,
no sir, so they could be here with the giant behemoths,
and Godzilla and Gorgo and monster show without
end--WELCOME HOME. Banners for those most
peculiar space travelers already pasted in the boys' eyes.

Their eyes almost visibly counted down the minutes now
as they looked at the slow as molasses hands of the watch
tick by, the boys hands on each other's penises, hard
again, the analogy of rockets and penises not having been
lost on them--think they were stupes or somethin?,
c'mon--and there it was aching in their balls, and their
dicks they massaged unknowingly--minus three minutes,
and then minus two minutes and 58 seconds--and the boys
making the countdown with their voices, in awe, and their
bodies in commas, and dancing their feet in the air, and
their legs drawn up like bows Robin Hood would in just
moments use to shoot his arrows out to the Sheriff of
Nottingham, from the forest of Royal Green....and one
minute...and fifty nine seconds...and fifty eight....and fifty
five.....

And the boys' bodies were like filled with electricity. And
they were clapping each other on their backs, seeing their
names in gold leaf on the CD-ROM that would smash into
the comet and give it what for, for all those murders
millions and billions of years ago, and then ten
seconds...and five...and three....and two....and....

And they looked up in the sky that was calm and starry
and moon full and Tom was so afraid they would never
see the comet, that it was up there and maximum impact,
and it would pass them by, and it was a dud of a
firecracker, and it wouldn't work, it would miss the
comet, and the boys could not see it anyway..

...and they should have seen it by now, no wait, that was
wrong, it was magic up there, along with hard scientific
datum and fact, and dream: human, and dream: thunder
lizard, you waited for the magician to do the trick, to pull
the curtain, so you could release your breath, and every
thing about it would be just perfect, timing being all; and
then the sky turned golden, like bright blasting daylight,
but not like the daylight of noon, but of a unique
sort--golden and gleaming and holy, not hot yellow jungle
sun, not slate sky run of the mill summer day around it,
but gold, real gold, and gold meant that was the comet
being exploded upon and screaming in pain, good, the
boys thinking, you damn well deserve it, good, the `saurs
weren't doing a thing to you--and the comet exploding, all
the sounds space can't let you hear--they heard--the
whole world heart--if the world was bright enough to hear
it, if even Brudda and the gang as NASA and the lab
heard it at all--were they having champagne poppings and
drinks round for everyone there, all those scientists this
very second, this very instant?, now that the thing had
done what it was supposed to do, and all the names
exploding on the comet and enveloped in fire.

Save for the names of Tom future `naut, and his dreamer
brother who would always be a dreamer and never get
close enough, good, thought Tom, forgive me, thought
Tom an instant later.

 And the Comet exploded again and again and the dark
skies were ripped open and the stars tumbled along with
the Moon out of their line of sight, and there was this
almighty roar from the comet and the door was blasted
open, the prison that  held the rightful owners of earth
were slammed to hell, and the magnificent creatures were
free to take that one giant step, and the boys were groping
their way to their feet, so trembling, and they, laughing,
screaming, crying, were trying to put on their pajama
bottoms, but kept falling down, tripping in the material,
and each other, their  hearts pounding faster and harder
than hearts could ever possibly pound, and they got their
pajamas on, and they were, the heat taking X rays of
them, sweating and the sky was golden and beyond golden
and the stars rained white bright sizzling fires down on the
earth, and there were huge black shape up there coming
earthward, and the boys held each other in mortal fear,
and they made to get ready to greet their friends---

And the boys said in perfect unison--"Welcome, your
majesties. Oh dear god above, welcome home." And in
the present of the sky was the future of the sky and the
future of the sky vomited out the creatures of the past and
that was the way it was and the way it always had to be.
In the imaginative minds of a boy going to destiny sooner
than he knew, and his little brother forever after calling
out "Take me, oh, please, take me with you. I want to see
the Christmas trees up so close I can touch them too. Not
fair. Not fair. I hate you. I hate you."

But now was now. And the boys waited. Ill prepared as
they were. And inside their house, the phone rang, rang
happily, no doubt about it, too bad it would stop any
second and everything of man turned molten and useless,
but long enough it rang for the boys to know and they
grabbed each other round the neck and squeezed hard,
and saw a dexterous landing of something no one had ever
seen before, big and huge and monstrous, you'd need a
road map for the whole world times twenty to work your
way round the beast and its substances, and with
trembling legs and quivering hearts and jellied brains, they
took the long short walk over to converse, somehow
someway, and there was no doubt in their minds they
would do just that.

But to help their bravery along, each boy held the other's
trembling hard on and their nipples were hard too and
their but cheeks clenched, and it was 11:40 p.m. and that
was how it all started--all over again--let this time, please
God, let this time, no man be born in primordial swamps,
to screw everything up again.

And a thing with a massive living rock horned head
looked at them with a huge row of bright square white
lights, like the lights of a spaceship from another planet in
the black night without street lamp, ringing of phone, or
moon or stars. And the space ship grumbled and roared
and blew African deserts fast and hard at the boys who fell
backward, fell down, and then got up, and fell down
again, and  as their hair singed off, and as their bodies felt
sand blasted, got a little further before the hell breath
knocked them down, and this is how they
continued...until...they...reached... the hot burning breath
of space, and began to make the acquaintance of.....

It.

No other word would do. No other word could ascribe to
the ascendancy that awaited patiently, huffing, getting the
lay of the land again, in front of them, and the boys' front
yard was big as the world, their house already melting,
they taking no notice of it, and there was so much waiting
to be explored, as grass set ablaze. They had absolutely no
idea what was ahead of them.  And they were so
incredibly happy to be boys right now and forever more.
Even Tom. Even Tommy.

The way it is, here on Monster Island, should be, with
boys, monsters, spaceships and July 3, eleven thirty p.m.
California time, 2005--the night of the comet and its
interception. As the boys walked into the ancient past of a
future hoped to be far wiser than now.

See you there.

Timothy Stillman
silvershimmer@earthlink.net