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THE THREE GENIES/ AN EXCERPT OF 1ST CHAPTER

A Story of Time Travel

     I was startled when I heard a motor start up. First off, I was daydreaming a little. Having a cup of freshly brewed coffee and a pop tart. We had been standing in dad’s rather large house, he had built on the outskirts of what would someday become Eudora, Kansas. It even had glass windows. Where he got glass windows, I surely don’t know. This is 1880 after all and that being said, I also have to add the disclaimer that we are living with two Beautiful and Magical Women. There is a third sister, but she neither lives here nor is she much to behold. So, as he whisked past me, I said to my Janie, “that was an excellent homemade pop tart.” To which she just gave me a know it all grin. So, being a social person, I again tried to have a conversation with her. I really hate to say it like this, but they are kind of like dogs. They don’t talk much and mostly they wait for you orders. So, I said, “well, it sounds like dad is going to mow the yard.” But then I cocked my head to the left. A move that sort of signifies that I didn’t understand.  “What? No, no, he can’t have a motorized lawn mower in this century. But I was mistaken all the way around. She smiled this time quite sheepishly and added a cute little chuckle.  “No, I think not, Master.” Even when they disagree, you can’t fault them, it’s unnerving.

The Three Genies, all sisters, Janie, Jeni and Hector naturally coordinated between themselves, with their telepathic abilities. In a very short amount of time Beth and her bodyguard, Tim-Tim, had showed up at “Muddy Gap” Stage Depot and Trading Post. Dad had flown in under his powered hang glider with “Trumpet” our family Dachshund/Beagle designer dog, strapped in as well. Instead of having to take a long trail ride on “Big Bertha” a giant plow horse, I was Genie Ported there, in what I guessed was a few seconds. It was just a flash to me. Quite literally, that was all I saw. A flash of light and ‘poof’ we were at the Mud Creek Depot. Unfortunately, this was a family meeting and my murderous sister Henrietta, sometimes called Henri had been summoned as well.

Well, I was somewhat right, it wasn’t a lawn mower. But a powered hang glider. Out into the pasture it went. Then I realized why his pasture looked strange. It was a runway for his power hang glider. Holy catfish bait dad. Wait up.” I ran out the back door, faster than I thought possible. He was already beginning his take off down the runway, when I caught him. “What the hell?” Dad had just turned 92. I was flabbergasted. I got right up next to him and I noticed my little dog wedged in under him and wearing aviator goggles. I had to laugh, it was just too funny. I wished him well and yelled over the motor noise, “Take care of my boy” Dad chuckled, patted the dog on the head and pushed the throttle forward. He took off, just as I got to the barn.

     I watched, until he was gone. It was slow. Moving towards the distant horizon. In the 1880’s, if a drinking man sees him floating in that contraption it will scare his last beer right out of him. He looked more like a giant moth more than anything that was known in the time period. He wasn’t dangling his feet like some do. He was sitting under a contraption that looked like a giant kite from the army navy surplus store. Finally, it turned west and headed towards the river. The Indian village, that dad allowed to live on his property was in that direction too.

     I couldn’t believe my eyes. My old man, flying a hang glider, motorized no less. I said he was an amazing man. I stood, paralyzed, my mouth gaping at the ridiculousness of what I had just seen.  If a small flock of bats had flown into my cavernous maw, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. Gawd Amighty, how did that old man learn to fly that thing and a better question is how did he get it into the late eighteen-hundreds? Where would he get the gas for it? What if someone thought he was a giant bird and tried to shoot him? I ran out to saddle a horse. Although trying to follow him would be near impossible.

     By the time I got to the horse out and pulled the saddle from the tack room, he had already gone over a row of trees and a hill on the west side of his property. That was as far as I could see anyway. Man, I wish I had something with a motor on it instead of a horse. I tied the horse to the fence and headed for dad’s barn. What else did he have in there from the twenty first century. He left in such a hurry he left the barn doors wide open. I had to investigate.

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