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peg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div>Damn, cursed Amanda, it’s starting to snow! Her attention pivoted to the farm animals — horses, chickens, and a goofy black and white border collie who thought her only job was to sit all day by the southern fence and keep an eye on the neighbor’s chihuahuas.The cable excavation would have to wait. She dusted off the old cracker tin, grabbed her tools, and raced for the barn to prepare for the quickening storm.Later that evening, dinner done, dishes washed, exhausted from the day’s unexpected expenditure of energy, she plopped down on her beat-up old denim sofa, the still-filthy cracker tin languishing on a shop towel on the coffee table in front of her. She knew by its heft that it wasn’t empty, but the lid was rusted shut and would require a vat of WD-40 and a bucket of elbow grease to unstick it, and she wanted to avoid damaging the tin, potential art for her garden fence. She clicked the TV on and got to work.It took three episodes of Breaking Bad reruns to wrestle that stubborn lid off. With a final metallic shriek, off it came, releasing an unearthly stench, reminiscent of a pulp mill converted to a sewage treatment plant blended with the contents of her old man’s laundry basket.She lit a match, muttered “Bad Doggie!,” and pressed on regardless. Removing protective stuffing that looked like something growing from a rotting log in a Louisiana swamp, she gasped to see a little black book in pristine condition, about the size of a Bible, but with no visible markings on the cover.<figure id="9973"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*eS2P2AGep9uQ6djM28HBpQ.jpeg"><figcaption>Unobtanium Crystal, Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@lazycreekimages?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Michael Dziedzic</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/black-crystal?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></figcaption

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</figure>A journal? A diary? A book of dark secrets? She flipped the book open. Inside, nestled in a space crisply excised from the pages, was a stunning so-dark-blue-it-seemed-black three-sided crystal, iridescent, mesmerizing, and unidentifiable, given her limited knowledge of gems and geology. It felt warm in her hand, almost as if alive somehow.With this shiny new object absorbing Amanda’s full attention, the little black book fell to the Persian carpet and silently slithered under the coffee table, not yet ready to be more closely inspected.Amanda’s fitful sleep that night was punctuated with odd dreams of animated genitals, what her father had taught her as a child to call “erroneous zones.” Her room seemed crowded with green, stubby little penis-shaped things floating about, but when she looked directly at them, all she could see was a huge red nipple below a pair of neon-yellow beaver teeth.Mmmpff. Better lay off the psilocybin for a few days. She shook off the dream like a collie shakes off the rain, jumped into her overalls, and started the coffeemaker.To be continued….. and thanks for reading! Amanda doesn’t know this yet, but her life is about to change dramatically. Stay tuned for Chapter 4, to be written by my writing buddy <a href="https://danlee-35169.medium.com/">D.A. Lee</a>! ❤UPDATE! Chapter 4 is here!<div id="064f" class="link-block">

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            <h2>Area 42: Code Word, Cracker 10</h2>
            <div><h3>Chapter Four. While the Oblivious Amanda is feeding the chickens and making biscuits, she is playing with fire in her…</h3></div>
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SCIENCE FICTION

Ch.3-Area 42: Code Word, Cracker 10

Chapter 3: Crystal Blue Persuasion

Crystal blue persuasion Mm-hmm It’s a new vibration Crystal blue persuasion (lyrics by Tommy James & The Shondells)

This is the third chapter of a science fiction romp coauthored by D.A. Lee and Adelia Ritchie, PhD. We hope it tickles all your funny bones. In case you missed the first two segments:

Area 42: Code Word “Cracker 10”

Chapter 1: An unintended harvest

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Area 42: Code Word, Cracker 10

Chapter 2: Seeing dicks in the corner of their eye is disturbing for people who don’t do it naturally

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Damn, cursed Amanda, it’s starting to snow! Her attention pivoted to the farm animals — horses, chickens, and a goofy black and white border collie who thought her only job was to sit all day by the southern fence and keep an eye on the neighbor’s chihuahuas.

The cable excavation would have to wait. She dusted off the old cracker tin, grabbed her tools, and raced for the barn to prepare for the quickening storm.

Later that evening, dinner done, dishes washed, exhausted from the day’s unexpected expenditure of energy, she plopped down on her beat-up old denim sofa, the still-filthy cracker tin languishing on a shop towel on the coffee table in front of her. She knew by its heft that it wasn’t empty, but the lid was rusted shut and would require a vat of WD-40 and a bucket of elbow grease to unstick it, and she wanted to avoid damaging the tin, potential art for her garden fence. She clicked the TV on and got to work.

It took three episodes of Breaking Bad reruns to wrestle that stubborn lid off. With a final metallic shriek, off it came, releasing an unearthly stench, reminiscent of a pulp mill converted to a sewage treatment plant blended with the contents of her old man’s laundry basket.

She lit a match, muttered “Bad Doggie!,” and pressed on regardless. Removing protective stuffing that looked like something growing from a rotting log in a Louisiana swamp, she gasped to see a little black book in pristine condition, about the size of a Bible, but with no visible markings on the cover.

Unobtanium Crystal, Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

A journal? A diary? A book of dark secrets? She flipped the book open. Inside, nestled in a space crisply excised from the pages, was a stunning so-dark-blue-it-seemed-black three-sided crystal, iridescent, mesmerizing, and unidentifiable, given her limited knowledge of gems and geology. It felt warm in her hand, almost as if alive somehow.

With this shiny new object absorbing Amanda’s full attention, the little black book fell to the Persian carpet and silently slithered under the coffee table, not yet ready to be more closely inspected.

Amanda’s fitful sleep that night was punctuated with odd dreams of animated genitals, what her father had taught her as a child to call “erroneous zones.” Her room seemed crowded with green, stubby little penis-shaped things floating about, but when she looked directly at them, all she could see was a huge red nipple below a pair of neon-yellow beaver teeth.

Mmmpff. Better lay off the psilocybin for a few days. She shook off the dream like a collie shakes off the rain, jumped into her overalls, and started the coffeemaker.

To be continued….. and thanks for reading! Amanda doesn’t know this yet, but her life is about to change dramatically. Stay tuned for Chapter 4, to be written by my writing buddy D.A. Lee! ❤

UPDATE! Chapter 4 is here!

Area 42: Code Word, Cracker 10

Chapter Four. While the Oblivious Amanda is feeding the chickens and making biscuits, she is playing with fire in her…

medium.com