Chapter 1

Monster Millions.

It will come as no surprise to most of the readers that this is not only fiction but bald faced lies. The author has been known to stretch the truth past breaking. He is fully aware that Monster Millions is his own creation and does not exist in reality. He is also cognizant of the fact that this an alternate reality. The names might be real ... the people are not. If your name is in here ... it’s not you ... any of you.

So the voices in my head said, <29 16 32 10 19. monster ball 15> and they wouldn’t let it go. Over and over... <29 16 32 10 19. monster ball 15>.

“Shut up! I’m driving!”

<29 16 32 10 19. monster ball 15>

<29 16 32 10 19. monster ball 15>

<29 16 32 10 19. m b 15>

“Hey!”

<Your thick skull takes energy. So we shortened it>

<29 16 32 10 19. m b 15>

Not only could I hear the rassberry ... I felt the spittle ... on my cheek. It was so real I wiped ... nothing.

This went on the whole time I was on the road. I travel for work. OK OK OK ... I write for travel magazines and roadmaps ... and there’s nothing like being there to get it right. I make a living. Gas is 19 cents a gallon ... oh ... it’s 1955, a Chevrolet Bel Air Sport Coupe Cost: $2,065.00. I bought a new VW... $1,595.00. Better gas mileage. Pennies count.

I am on assignment. Puerto Rico. National Geographic wants 20 pages for the September issue. My photog is flying in separately.

“Pick her up at Borinquen Field, Ramey Air Force Base in Aquadilla, Puerto Rico.”

“That’s a SAC (Strategic Air Command) base. Will they let me in?”

Hilarity abounds

“You’ll be there.”

“Oh.”

They pulled strings and shipped my car and me by C-123. Direct flight to the base.

That was the main reason I bought the VW ... it fit ... that and a cash bonus.

We left together. A VW is cozy.

Things were coming along swimmingly. She was fresh out of college and attractive enough that we had signed releases for every male she photographed. I was responsible for the females.

“Look ... if you don’t sign we’ll not publish your pic.”

It was actually no surprise that the majority of the teenagers said no ... and so did their older escorts.

“Good!”

Strangely ... no one asked for the film.

Years later I realized they should.

We were cruising around the island ... she taking photographs of everything while I was speaking to the micrphone attached to my Ampex 300-c tape recorder. At least, when I could.

So ... when I said ‘Shutup’ she said, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Voices in my head,” Oops.

“What are they saying?”

“Lottery numbers.”

“Well...?”

So I bought a ticket. We whipped into a government outlet and I purchased 29 16 32 10 19. monster ball 15. She chuckled the whole time.

Guess what.

Got it in one ... they shut up.

I mostly forgot about it. We finished our assignment. Mailed in the text. She went back and did what photographers do. Developed.

National Geographic said Yucatán, the Mexican state, known for its Gulf of Mexico beaches and Mayan ruins.

The air force delivered.

<You won>

I almost ran off a cliff.