Tag Archives: Catch a Falling Star

Stardusters… Canto Three

Installment 3 in my ongoing unfinished Sci-Fi saga is here for your perusal.  Hopefully it is not too awful.  It is a little bit racy in a junior-high sort of way… and it might turn your eyes black to read it, but it is also a little bit funny.

Galtorr Primex 1

Canto Three – In the Tadpole Chambers Aboard the Base Ship

Alden Morrell was astounded by the changes alien technology had made in him.  His wife, Gracie, inhabited a child’s body which had been artificially created by the Tellerons.  Her mind had been lifted out of her dying brain and placed into a container which had automatically adopted her DNA.    So the aliens had offered him a chance to be the same age and size as his now child-like wife.  They had put him in a device that resembled a tanning bed and processed him like a naked frog in a microwave oven.  When he had come to… no more body hair, penis reduced to a tiny pink mushroom, bald head re-forested with hair, and a renewed youthful energy he could barely contain.

Alden sat now in the moist sauna-bath that was known as the Tadpole Chamber wearing only his fruit-of-the-looms.  Gracie sat next to him, naked, and feeling apparently far less embarrassed than Alden himself felt.  Five naked Telleron tadpoles were with them, Davalon, Tanith, Brekka, Menolly, and George Jetson.  The tadpoles were the reason they were there.  Nutrient baths were absolutely necessary to the continued health of the amphibianoid children.

“We should dance,” suggested Brekka.  She was a lovely female Telleron tadpole with skin of forest green and having a delicate reddish blush on cheeks and neck, as well as her shapely buttocks.  Alden shuddered when he realized what he had been looking at.  He looked away and blushed deeply maroon himself.

“Why do you always want to dance?” asked Tanith, another pretty young female of emerald green.  “You suggest that forty times a day.”

“Since we learned to do that on Mars,” said Brekka, “I haven’t wanted to do anything else.  I want to dance like the Mickey Mouse Club kids we saw on the Earther broadcasts.”

“It doesn’t hurt to exercise,” said Davalon.  “I learned that by playing baseball.  It makes the muscles hurt at first, but then you come back stronger and more filled with power.”

Alden beamed at that.  He had been the one to teach Davalon about baseball during that brief time on Earth when he had tried to adopt the abandoned fin-headed alien boy.

“The computer system has Mickey Mouse Club music recorded from Earther TV,” reminded Menolly.    “We just have to ask for it.”

“Yeah!  Great idea!” said George Jetson.  Like many of Captain Xiar’s children, George was named for something on Earther TV that Xiar particularly liked.  “Computer, play all the Mickey Mouse Club songs.”

Alden didn’t know the song that started to play, but it had a good dance beat and the green children began to sway and move and dip and boogie.  It was a wild collection of dance moves from Earth filtered through alien perceptions.

“Let’s dance too,” said Alden’s beloved wife Gracie.   She stood and held out a hand to him.  “We can show them how it’s done.”

Alden was forty years old and Gracie was two years younger.  But now they inhabited children’s bodies, having been reduced in age to twelve and ten.  Their health was so much better, and many years had been added to both of their lives.  Still, it felt unnatural and somehow wrong.  She was younger now than when they’d first met in Belle City High School in Iowa when he was seventeen and she had been fifteen.

“Do you really have to be naked in front of the children?” he asked her in a whisper.

“Why, yes, you old coot.  I think I do.  You should take those soggy shorts off too.  This is like a sauna bath after all.”

“You know Mrs. Castille wouldn’t approve.”

“That old fuddy-duddy doesn’t have a say in this.  Prudes would tell us we have to wear swimsuits in the bath tub because they have issues, not because we do.”

Alden nodded.  He didn’t agree, but he nodded because that was what he thought Gracie wanted.   She was a mere child again, but his love for her made his twelve-year-old body want her mightily.  He had to dance bent forward because he didn’t want mushrooms blooming and embarrassing him while he danced with naked girls in an alien nutrient bath.


My Art


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Novel Uses for Novel Projects

Since I have stopped writing two other novel projects for the sake of the current novel fixation, that means I have two other unfinished novels that I have to find a use for.  I thought perhaps I could post a novel chapter every Tuesday until I either finish Recipes for Gingerbread Children or use up all the chapters I have written on the other two novels.

So, let’s start with;

Stardusters and Space Lizards

A novel by Michael Beyer

My Art of Davalon x2xx

Canto One – Aboard the Base Ship of Xiar the Slightly Irregular

Commander Biznap was the most over-worked Telleron aboard Xiar’s mother ship.  Given the fact that he was the most competent spacer on board, in fact the ONLY competent spacer on board, it was easy to understand why.  None of the other fin-headed, green, Telleron frog-people could do even half of the necessary spacer tasks that made a starship run.  (Of course, there was Farbick, the yellow-skinned Fmoog, but you couldn’t count him, at least Biznap didn’t want to count him, because the possibility existed that Farbick was actually more competent than Biznap and merely the victim of Telleron anti-yellow-skinned racism.  That couldn’t be allowed to get around to the green-skinned Tellerons.)

Corebait was gone.  The foolish Fmoogian foul-up had gone and disintegrated himself while on Earth using a skortch pistol and an Earther mirror.  That meant no one on board was competent enough to do the astrogation calculations it was necessary to complete for the Tellerons to travel from the ancient Mars Base in Earth’s solar system, back to Barnard’s Star where their orbital living complex was located.  It was very possible the entire crew would have to learn to live on the space cruiser in orbit around some other fool planet in the Earther solar system.

“If you don’t want to live on Earth, dearest,” said Harmony Castille, Biznap’s new Earther “wife”, “then maybe we should just live on Mars.  There’s a perfectly good planetary base there.”  She was an Earther primate known as a “human being”, so Biznap had to forgive her for monkey-based-life-form thinking.

“You must forgive me, honey, but I don’t want to live anywhere even remotely near your people.”  Biznap’s frown told it all.  He had learned to love this woman of another species.  Now that he had used the de-evolutionizer to make the old Sunday School teacher young again, she was ravishingly beautiful… so much so that Bizzy had decided to take up the same strange Earth custom that had so appealed to Captain Xiar and his new Telleron wife Shalar, and married her, binding her to him for the remainder of their lives together, however many centuries that would be.  But Earth people were strange primates with such weird customs.  They didn’t eat their own young, but they ate meat, even (shudder) frog legs.  They used machines on a regular basis, but they also relied on muscles and physical labor far more than any Telleron could stomach.  And since they didn’t absorb moisture through their skin like a Telleron, they preferred dry rooms and refused to run about the spaceship naked the way Tellerons preferred.  Harmony insisted that Biznap wore clothes at all times, except when they actually had time to be intimate.  She was a bit of a prude (a word Biznap had learned meant that she deeply loved to copulate, but had to pretend that, not only did she not like it, but she couldn’t stomach the thought of other people even thinking about it).

“Well, what will we do, then, if we don’t find a way to get back to your Bernie’s Star?”

Barnard’s Star,” corrected Biznap.  “You people named it, after all.”

“Okay, okay.  But it will just be living on a space station, won’t it?”

“Um… yeah…  The artificial swamp in the interior is very realistic, though.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to live with real ground under our feet?  I mean, I think I’m going to miss the birds singing in the early morning, and the lovely fall colors of maple trees.”

“I really don’t think so.  I mean, I don’t even know what those things are.”  Being a Telleron who had lived his entire life aboard some form of space vehicle, a frog-like sentient life form, and her being a planet-raised monkey-person instead of a proper amphibianoid, might just not have been ideal for getting “married”.  Bizzy loved her bare legs and the wonderful Earther invention known as “breasts”, but did that really make up for having to live your love-life with an alien monkey-person?

“Look here, Bizzy.  You forgot to carry the one in this equation.”

Biznap looked down at the tablet computer.  “I think I know a little more about Sleer Mechanics and Advanced Sylvanian Geometry, thank you.  …Oh, look at that.  I, um, forgot to carry the one.”

“Does that help our problem?” she said sweetly.  “I mean, the same mistake is right here in Corebait’s old equations?”

“Yes… yes, I think our problem is solved!  The numbers match and flow properly for a change.  Thank you, dearest one.  Now we must try it.”

Biznap went to the primary jump control board and began inputting the numbers just as Harmony had corrected them.  The machine purred and glowed with its inherent bioluminescence.  It was a happy machine for the first time since Biznap could remember.  It chugged and farted, and then they were physically lifted through space and time and light-years of travel.  Suddenly a planet appeared on the view screen.

“Oh, no!” gasped Biznap.

“What’s the matter?” asked his lady love, gaping at the blue, green, and brown ball of dirt slowly rotating in space before them.

“This is Galtorr Prime!  The one planet in the area of the Telleron Empire that’s more dangerous than Earth!”

“It’s that bad?” asked the clueless Sunday school teacher.

“They are reptile-men!  With big teeth!  And they’re more aggressive than humans.  If they ever learn space travel, we’re DOOMED!”

“Yep,” she said.  “Maybe we don’t want to live here either.”

Biznap smiled a crazy smile.  A thought had occurred to him.  Living on Galtorr Prime couldn’t be any more difficult than being married…



Okay, so that is chapter one.  I call it a canto.  And I am aware that it is a bit on the lunatic end of the science-fiction spectrum.  But hey, I’m a devotee of Douglas Adams and the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.  So. whatever you do, “DON’T PANIC!”



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I know this is incredibly hard to believe, but there are now 700 people who are computer literate enough to follow a blogger on WordPress who actually made the mistake of following my goofy little blog and failing to figure out how to un-follow someone.

Cool School Blue news

I believe, based on evidence in the comments I have received, that some people go beyond looking at my happy little Bob-Ross-and-Disney-crossbred-clone-artworks and actually read my posts.  And further, they seem to enjoy and be mostly amused by my witless attempts at humor and wit… at least the non-political and non-kook-apple-conspiracy-buff stuff.  How I ever managed to thoroughly snow and deceive that many literate people… I will probably never figure out.  But if you have waded through this lazy-post paragraph of purple paisley prose about own-horn tooting… thank you so much for reading my words.


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Why I Wear a Tinfoil Hat

You know by now if you have read what I’ve written, or been around me when people make the mistake of letting me talk about what I want to talk about, that I am a kook.  Yes, I believe things that you have been told that only crazy people believe.Davalon ad  Why would you want to read any more of that nonsense now?  Because it is true and it will impact our future.

I came into a wealth of secret knowledge when I wrote and published my first good novel, Catch a Falling Star.  Of course, like most of the things you research on the internet, ninety-nine per cent of everything is big, black rubber hoo-haw lies.  I researched a lot of things that I have always been fascinated by, but specifically I investigated UFO phenomenon.  I already followed author Stanton Friedman and knew who Bob Lazar was before starting my research, but I wanted to dig deeper and find the truth.  My novel, after all, is about close encounters of the third, fourth, and fifth kinds… including an invisible invasion of Earth from outer space.  I wanted to portray such events as alien contact and alien abduction as realistically as possible.  But then I found stuff like the Disclosure Project headed by Doctor Steven Greer.  Did you know he has been collecting eye-witness and whistle-blower information in written and video form since the 1990’s and presenting it to members of congress?  There is an immense database of information about contact with UFO’s and the government’s response to it that can be cross-referenced and even corroborates itself.  There come a point at which eye-witness testimony, even loony-sounding testimony, has to be accepted when there is a preponderance of evidence.

The thing that makes the case most strongly for me is the provable amount of cover-up and misdirection that the government has applied to this body of knowledge.  They are still doing it.  NASA footage and photographic records are open to the public and available online.  Lots of people have examined the wealth of evidence very closely and have found things that the government apparently overlooked.  There are also an even more impressive number of identified re-touched and faked photos of the Moon and Mars and especially the Earth from space.  Things have been removed so that we the people will not see.  Some nut-cases even believe we never actually went to the moon.  Some of the moon footage and photos are provably fake.  (But you can also spot the landing sites of the Apollo missions on the surface of the moon with some of the very good telescopes available now… The proof of our moon landings is there.  The stuff was redacted and faked for different reasons… a different cover-up.)

So, why does this matter?  Maybe we are better off being protected from this secret knowledge.  We are too fragile to take it.  There will be riots in the street and the economy will crash.  We are safer being ignorant of all of this.


It’s time we were given the straight poop (because everybody hates crooked poop… at least they should.)  Our world is dying from pollution and global warming, yet the alien technology can provide clean, free energy.  Rich people are exploiting the poor and the middle class and so much suffering occurs that doesn’t have to happen if we embrace the potential for taking our place in a galactic community that apparently already exists and that we are excluded from solely on the basis of how dangerous our own ignorance makes us.


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Another Self-Promotional Announcement from Mickey

Dr Seabreezannounce

I’m not bragging.  I know it is not that much.  But it’s more than twice what I had at the start of 2014.


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Goofy Me

The more I looked at the silly simpering grin on my old foolish face, the more I realized it needed a few things added.  So I added a few of my dream babies.  You know, those characters I have created in cartoons and novels who may have started with my own three kids, or kids I grew up with, or kids I taught over the years, but ended up with a large injection of my own mental DNA in their final, fictional selves.  So here is a self portrait that I privately refer to by the title “Goofy Me”.

Self Portraixxxt  Man, is that ever goofy!

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700 Likes on Facebook!

700 Likes on Facebook!

http://www.facebook.com/telleronsinvadeiowa? Has now reached 700 likes!

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April 10, 2014 · 2:14 am

Alien Inversion

So, the question I am taking up now is:  What can we learn about ourselves by encountering an alien? 

Easy answer Number One: We can learn how quickly our underwear can be soiled.

Easy answer Number Two: Can a man wearing sneakers reach speeds approaching the speed of light?

Easy answer Number Three: …Well, I could only think of two that were even slightly funny.

The truth is, the thing we would most likely take away from a close encounter of the Third Kind is a deeper understanding of what it truly means to be a human being from planet Earth.

We live on a planet where people once thought the Earth itself was the center of the universe and even the sun orbited around us.  The Bible speaks of angels watching the ways of men on Earth and being impelled to “adore and draw near.”  Are we really as vain as all that?  Well, unfortunately, yes, we are.  People believe that God created the universe for mankind and put us in dominion over all the beasts in the fields, the birds in the air, and the fish in the ocean.  It would serve us right if an alien came down to planet Earth and decided humankind were basically only good for another in a long series of exotic items on the menu.  If that happens, the best we can hope for is that we don’t taste very good.


What would an alien be able to teach earthlings?

I think, though, that it is by noting the differences between a human being and a traveler from a distant planet in a solar system not our own that we really would gain the most insights into what makes us special and unique.  We would clearly discern that an alien who can travel interstellar distances to reach Earth would make us feel like total dim-bulbs when it comes to science.  They know Science with a capital S.  We only know science like the time in Miss Murphy’s class when we cut open a frog and saw all the nasty-colored squishy bits.  We take clocks and small engines apart.  Sometimes we can’t correctly put them back together.  They can take complex biological systems, brains and eco-systems for example, and put them together as easily as finishing a jigsaw puzzle that only had four pieces.

So is that the only meaningful comparison?  We are much stupider than they are?  Not by a long shot.  Advanced, super-smart alien societies will have lost the ability that goes with being stupider… er, I mean, being simpler in their understanding.  They will have lost the ability to wonder and be amazed.  They will have lost the ability to be thrilled to their core at encountering something that no man has ever seen before.  They will simply have protocols in place for dealing with anomalies they have not previously encountered.  How dead, boring, and sterile is that?  It doesn’t make us superior in any way, but we have so many um-gollies ahead of us in the realm of interstellar travel that I would not trade places with even the best of them.  What is an um-golly, you say?  That’s when you see that bright pulsing light hovering above the pavement of Highway Three after midnight, and the green man with a fin on the top of his head instead of hair comes out to meet you.  And what do you say?  “Um… golly!”

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The Alien in the Classroom

As an ESL teacher, or English as a Second Language Teacher, I do firmly believe that anyone can learn to speak English if they have a mouth to speak with, ears to hear with, and a brain that does at least a little more than hold the ears apart.  There are ways to get through to an English beginner who already speaks another language fluently.  You use body language, simple, repeated words and phrases, picture dictionaries, and enough patience to melt down the next ice age.  But how would it work with an alien who not only didn’t have a green card, but wasn’t even familiar with life on this planet?

Well, the Tellerons in my book Catch a Falling Star already come with a working knowledge of English since they grew up watching American TV programs from the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, and early 80’s.  If you live about nine light years away from Earth, you can watch shows that are older than nine years.  In fact, TV helped the Tellerons leap to the erroneous conclusion that we were ripe for conquest.  Who wouldn’t want to invade if the enemy were all as stupid as Gilligan and the Brady Bunch?  So, let’s suppose the alien youth who enters my classroom straight from the enrollment center is not human, and not a Telleron.  Let’s suppose he is from a planet in the Epsilon Indi star system, Epsilon Indi Four.  That planet has some interesting kiddos to send my way.

They call their planet Galtorr Prime, in their language “Gaahl Toor Onssi”.  They are humanoid in shape, but are actually tailless saurian people, looking all reptilian and toothy-scary.  Green and brown are their ordinary scale colors, and their bright green eyes have vertically-slitted pupils like a poisonous snake.  They speak only Hiss Language and have trouble making the sounds of English that require a mobile lip.  Young Dathoo the Lizard Boy is quite a handful in my classroom.

The first challenge is to get the Hiss speaker to realize that in this country we are not allowed to eat our classmates.   Asking the girls to show him how humans make their eggs is a no-no too.  Beginning speakers can often get frustrated trying to sort out the wondrous mish-mash of words that is English, but they must learn that not being able to say something correctly the first few times does not require the invocation of the Galtorrian Death Ritual.  I also have to remember to teach him to leave his laser plasma gun in his sub-orbital vehicle in the parking lot.

After a month and several trips to the doctor with serrated bite wounds, I have young Dathoo speaking all the important phrases like; “Yes, oh wise and wonderful teacher, I will do that immediately,” and “Teachers deserve to make as much money as corporate CEO’s.”

Okay, so if an alien child from another world wanted to come to my classroom, I could do that.  But if it’s okay with the powers that be, I would really rather you picked some other teacher.

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