The Return of Nolan James (a 30:30 Report)

(Blogger’s note: Sheriff Nolan James is a recurring character in your Blogger’s forthcoming collection of supernatural/sci-fi tales, “Collected Strays”, due Spring 2021. Making this something of a sneak preview.)

Oh, vast nonsense, you trickle through electrical hops and skips there in the old noggin’, slipstream consciousness drooling from either ear, who knows, maybe they take turns, the aural woofers, left brain right brain, or maybe we sit in on a punk band lyrical brainstorm at a Brooklyn loft off Flatbush, I mean, I tooled there once in the 70’s with a chick from out Roslyn way. You know, expressway dreams. Now, how about we sit, stretch, have delivered by robotic an extra-large mug of the cinnamon-enriched hot chocolate and spend another toasty late-autumn night (ass-freezing finger-nipping cold out there, all lovely and welcoming in here, this roaring blaze), even as once again, ongoing history of man – in this particular incidence moi – I say we cannot keep up with all our blessings even calculating with a skedaddle and sure-fired IBM adding data machine.

And now that we have that – the set, the setting draped and shared with the kiddie gallery – let’s prepare for yet another in the never-ending series of enthralling tales of wonder featuring Sheriff Nolan James, who as always is in the company of his ever-deputy Cassie Thalxx, yup it’s hard to find good help nowadays, which is why we can celebrate, big hooray offered to again hear Cassie Thalxx maintains righteous loyalty to the only boss she’s ever had, that’s speaking professionally, as Cassie did work two summers dishing soft-serve at the Surfside Tasty Dome back in Orleans, Massachusetts (old Cape Cod) (now cranked and amped Patti Page for the Sheriff’s soundtrack via this planetary adventure), we remember Cassie did work at ‘the Dome’ Fridays and Saturdays, and after cashing in sacred weekend time for employment-birthing cash she’d hook up with Jasper James, who’d arrive six minutes before closing in grandma’s old Seville, vibratory when Cassie pushed out the back door just before the owners – the Barretts — began locking up, Cassie’d slide onto that wide Caddie bench seat and begin early promises and demonstrations of sensual wonder, tongue rolls and finger excursions around and about Jasper’s person, he fires all eight cylinders to head over to the far lot at Coast Guard Beach, pushing in a tape of The Rascals, everyone with eleven brain cells hearing today’s pronunciation quite clear — you can never hear too much of The Rascals, and that pair of fun-squeezing kids get to playing real good – oohs, aahs, oolalas.

Oh, such a brief excursion in the pre-professional work career and back-door fringe benefits of Ms. Thalxx, but less than one week after graduating Nauset Regional Cassie enrolled in Colorado’s Space Academy, advanced celestial coursework and space physics, and I believe it was eight months later, that’s all, when she stepped onto the space heap championed by the galaxy-famous Sheriff James. She’s been his trusty sidekick and extremely competent deputy since, some eight lunar years. It’s worth noting, as well, yes, Sheriff James has the very same last name as Cassie’s high school ice cream shop boink partner Jasper does, and as this is an outer space story and hopefully you’re into space-tial and mystical threads, it’s a kick to know they (Nolan and Jasper) ain’t related, a big old cosmic coincidence, and in fact one which the first week of her assignment would cause Cassie a slight but distinctly friendly moisture down you know where every time she addressed her boss all formally as in the “James” word.

But there are children here, enough of that….

Today the lawman and his girl-pal – and we haven’t mentioned the twins (Devin and Nevin) yet, today the crew of Del-Mark 8 will be entering an intra-beam transport and materializing moments later on Mattawonsett Bupurion 13, a newly discovered life-holding rock which happened to poke its giggling little meteoric head out from the Bling system a month ago, no prior notice, thusly offering up a theory that – well, actually, the boys back at the University were still in heavy debate about just where this little sucker’d been hiding all this time, which is a who-knows-how-long, it’s why Sheriff James and his crack team have drawn the assignment to check it out. (Fun fact. When the Sheriff tore open the perforated top of the highly-secret space ‘Doc’ orders he read these words and these words only, all governmental font and top-of-the-hive-mind collectively created – “Check it out.”)

Why we the top dog when it comes to species.

So that’s the plan, Stan, and they’ve — I know, I ‘ve been going on so endlessly you’re no doubt thinking somebody grab a hook and get this asshole out of here so we can, possibly, hear the frigging story — James and crew have instead retro’d down in a small shreeker to the planet Bupurion 13’s surface, and what’s the first thing they see but five tremendously hugely massive ostrich-like semi-avian creatures, who’ve jogged on three legs each directly up to the slide-open exit door of the shreeker and this space rock’s welcoming committee native closest to the Sheriff and Cassie and the twins raises one of his four hands and says – I shit you not – “How.”

Yes, exactly like watching those old Cowboy and Indian racially-insipid dialogue Saturday-afternoon-wild-west-theater-black-and-white movies stretched out on the living room couch, we were only children and believed our parents and our governments and tv and the boy scouts and especially slippery Caddy bench seats after all that Saturday night ice cream, and being that our main man here is the “Sheriff”, the minimal communication from the three-legged, four-armed-ostrich-lookalike isn’t a big surprise.

As in – no doubt. At least that’s what Cassie reports.