He could not remember which story he learned first; he believed it was the one about Johnny Appleseed, and now that the apple trees in the neighborhood were bearing, he realized that he had to get into alchemy somehow.  He needed to set up a still.  Applejack would become a trade good when the apocalypse came.  All those free apples to be made into mash.  Miners and soldiers need stress relief.

But he had to admit to himself that part of the reason he wanted to set up a still was because of the little couple of inches of filler that used to be in newspapers occasionally about a some out of the way Indian village where the local still was broken into by a herd of elephants, not rogue mind you, the herd mentality.  They would get drunk and destroy the village, not unlike Godzilla.  He often thought about two stories meeting as a kind of alchemy.  Two stories do not make it right, but three do.


About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

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