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Don't Try Me To Try The Moon Part 1 of 3

© Wayne Lankford

For much of my life friends have told me that I should try to write a book. They always seem so enthusiastic when they say that but when I ask them what I should write this book about, what subject matter I should explore, they don't seem to be able to provide any viable suggestions. And of course that's the hard part. Nonetheless you should know that I have had a few ideas about that. This morning while out on the bike path, for no good reason, this whole subject started passing through my mind. That's what I love about mountain biking. For somebody like me it's so conducive to my thought processes. Yea, this morning it was absolutely beautiful. Everybody I passed on the trail today was in such a good mood it seemed. Everybody I met on the path exchanged a good-morning greeting and commented on "what a beautiful day" it was. I had to agree. If it's actually true that some days are more perfect than other days then this morning was an example of the more perfect variety. I was light hearted and the hills were easy. Out of nowhere I began to laugh out loud thinking about "The Pigeon Wars", an idea I had for a book a long time ago, one of my creative ideas?

The main character of The Pigeon Wars was a pigeon named Joe. When I introduce my readers to Joe the war has been ended for many years. Joe is very old, a partly disabled, (walks with a pronounced limp presumably because of war injury) alcoholic, blind in one eye scavenger of the parking lot of a downtown Atlanta Georgia junk food Drive-In called the Junk Food Drive-In. Joe had the bad habit of going up to complete strangers and threatening demandingly they listen to him. He'd cry on his knees while begging strangers to believe him and his warnings about the imminent danger their brains were in. Joe was convinced that aliens from outer space had invaded earth. He believes they've come here because they have developed a taste for human brains. They eat them. They want to eat our brains. They like the way our brains taste. On their planet, we, our brains, are a delicacy. These aliens don't feel a single iota of guilt about it either because to them, the way they see it, is why not, we weren't using these organs anyway. Who would really care? Well Joe eventually teams up with another pigeon named Fred and, well, they don't save the world but they are able to corner the market in off-world brains, at least for a while. In the later chapters the aliens equivalent to the Food and Drug Administration discover that there is a genetic marker in human brains that indicates that we, earthlings, are, as too are the inhabitants of the planet Zog-row, direct decedents of tuna fish. So, by the long existing law not to consume relatives, all consumption of human brains is forbidden and new golf tournaments are conceived to improve relationships between Earth and Zog-row.

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