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Electra Hemingray

GATOR CROSSING

FIRST AND LAST ISSUES

Blinking Zoetrope or Swamp Gas?
by Electra Hemingray

When Novellas County Gazette's Editor in Chief, Ernie Hemingway Junior, was found babbling incoherently about aliens and gin rummy last Thursday, no one paid him any mind. In fact, no one has paid him any mind since 1983 and the paper has run much more smoothly as a result.

1983 was the year of the alleged zoetrope sighting over the swamp behind Double-Wide Heaven, the trailer park built on the landfill next to the Novellas County Swamp. A much younger Ernie had just shared a six pack, a funny cigarette and a few sweaty maneuvres on a confederate flag beach towel with trailer park resident Martha Tucks, well known for her views on, well, known for her views, Ernie's favorite being her deliciously expansive bottom. None of us here at the Gazette put much store in Ernie's account, but Martha had a reputation for honesty as big as her backside.

"I watched it hover in the sky for nearly 45 minutes after Ernie passed out—a big red and orange blinking thing, spinning like a giant roulette wheel. When it moved, there seemed to be images floating around the outside like a picture show. I could have sworn it was playing reruns of Rocky and Bullwinkle."

Martha's story reminded me of similar lights I'd seen playing with Spencer and Ernie down by the swamp when we were kids. We ran down to get a closer look and found rotten logs all glowing with yellow gunk. It gave off an eerie light when the wind blew across. Ernie used to put some of the junk on his nose and run after us shreiking. Come to think of it, his nose still glows most of the time.

Spencer called a Colonel Wanamaker at the Air Base who, after interviewing Miss Tucks at some length, chalked up the phenomenon to swamp gas. He did promise to look in on her now and again and has been faithful to his word to this day.

BAR NOIR

DARK ROOTS
by Electra and Spencer Hemingray

In May, my brother touched briefly on our shared appreciation for the dark roots of the noir sub-genre through its classic progenitors Raymond Chandler and Dashiel Hammett. What he didn't mention is that even now he likes to reprise one of our favorite teenage pastimes. And, hey—I admit to getting a little carried away with it myself.

Hey, baby—what have I told you about playing the Third Man Theme when I'm sitting right here with you—and who the hell are you talking to?

To our alleged readers—all 79 of them.

Alleged readers? Don't bite the foot that stomps your grapes, Electra. Without those 'alleged' readers, where would we be?

And just where am I? My life ain't exactly duck soup, is it? I had a promising career as a musician and now I'm a hack newshawk for a rag with offices in the back rooms of the seediest hotel in Gator Springs.

The ONLY hotel in Gator Springs, E. And may I also remind you that this seedy, co*ckroach infested dive is also our home, sweet home.

Let's not air our dirty laundry in front of THEM, Spencer.

Now you're pitching them the third person—they're all standing or sitting just on the other side of the glass and can hear every word you say. And weren't YOU just about to air our dirty laundry? What was this about our favorite pastime? You don't really propose to tell them about THAT.

Jeez, Spencer. Give me a break! No, I meant the Nick and Nora gig, but now you've queered the mood.

Sorry, Sis. Hey, folks. You just go ahead and read the issue—there is some great stuff for you to enjoy.

~

Hey, you big lug. what say we go on up to your room and dig out the bracelets?

Now you're playing my tune, baby. Last one up has to do the dance.

Read Electra's Interview of Blind Carbon Copy

Read joint editorial by LeSabre, Invicta and Electra

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