Smith's Monthly #11 Read online

  Copyright Information

  Smith’s Monthly Issue #11

  All Contents copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith

  Published by WMG Publishing

  Cover and interior design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing

  Cover art copyright © by Konradbak/Dreamstime.com and

  Softlightaa/Dreamstime.com

  “Introduction: Stories Go On and On” copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith

  “Dried Up” copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover illustration by Chrisharvey/Dreamstime.com

  “Well, Maybe Not” copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover art by Julien Tromeur/Dreamstime.com

  The Life and Times of Buffalo Jimmy copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover art by Searead/Dreamstime.com

  “Cucumber Party” copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover photo by Edyta Powlowska/Dreamstime.com

  The Adventures of Hawk copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover photo by Wisconsinart/Dreamstime.com

  “Marriage in Six Floors” copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover photo by Bowie15/Dreamstime.com and Nicky Linzey/Dreamstime.com

  “The Case of the Intrusive Furniture” copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover art by Dennis Raev/Dreamstime.com

  The High Edge: A Seeders Universe novel copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, cover art by Konradbak/Dreamstime.com and

  Softlightaa/Dreamstime.com

  Poems: “Patience,” and “Pipe Dreams” copyright © 2014 Dean Wesley Smith, header design copyright © 2014 WMG Publishing, header illustration by Mariagrazia Orlandini/Dreamstime.com

  Smashwords Edition

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in the fiction in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Introduction: Stories Go On and On

  Dried Up: A Poker Boy Story

  Well, Maybe Not

  The Life and Times of Buffalo Jimmy: Chapters 31-33

  Cucumber Party: A Buckey the Space Pirate Story

  Patience

  The Adventures of Hawk: Chapters 31-33

  Marriage in Six Floors

  The Case of the Intrusive Furniture: A Pilgrim Hugh Incident

  The High Edge: A Seeders Universe Novel

  Pipe Dreams

  Full Table of Contents

  Smith’s Monthly

  About the Author

  Copyright Information

  Introduction

  STORIES GO ON AND ON

  STORIES FOR ME just seem to go on and on.

  Not sure why that is. I have a Poker Boy short story in this issue that is part of an ongoing series. Poker Boy just seems to gain more and more powers with each new story I write about him. And let me tell you, there are a lot of Poker Boy stories. Plus there is one novel and a novella sequel to that novel.

  Poker Boy just keeps going on and on.

  And I have a Pilgrim Hugh story in this issue, the fourth one with that strange detective and his sidekicks. And I plan to write more because I kind of like that goofy detective. In fact, I can see a Pilgrim Hugh mystery novel in the near future.

  And that novel will end up here in this magazine, of course.

  The novel in this issue, The High Edge, is a Seeders Universe novel, the fifth novel in that series, actually. All of them were published in this magazine. And there will be more, since I actually know where the next novel will be set.

  And with each Seeders novel, I am pulling all the main characters from each novel together more and more into a larger plot line, which for me has been great fun.

  The Seeders Universe is a huge place, so lots of room to play and set fun stories.

  In this issue, the two ongoing serial novels will both pass over 30,000 words in length. Each three-chapter segment in each issue for each story has been around 3,000 words long.

  With Hawk, the story is far from over. I plan on just continuing on as Hawk looks for his father and the Fountain of Youth at the same time.

  However, with Buffalo Jimmy, that book has a nice wrapping point for a novel in another couple of issues. So I may wrap that in a few more issues. And then send him and his friends on another adventure. Time will tell on that.

  I also have a series called “The Cold Poker Gang,” of which I’ve had two stories and a novel in this magazine over this year, with more coming.

  And last month I started a brand new series with the novel Heaven Painted as a Poker Chip novel.

  I also have ten or more stories in my “Bryant Street” series, and about fifteen short stories in my Jukebox series.

  Both of those series will continue on as well.

  But the one series I like a great deal that started here in these pages is the “Thunder Mountain” series. There are two novels so far in the series, plus a number of short stories.

  Watch for more Bonnie and Duster stories coming soon.

  And speaking of going on and on, this magazine is only one month away from being in existence for a year. Without missing a month.

  I fill every word of it. That sort of stuns my mind, to be honest, so I don’t think about it much.

  This issue is coming out in August, the month I started the Writing in Public challenge which set off this crazy magazine idea. If I was writing in public, I needed to have a place where readers could find most everything I wrote.

  Eleven novels so far, counting this issue, with over forty-five short stories, two ongoing novels, and a nonfiction golf book.

  This has been a really fun eleven months.

  As with most of my fiction, the stories just keep going on and on, and this magazine shows no signs at all of slowing down either.

  So next month will be the first year anniversary of Smith’s Monthly, but this issue is the year anniversary of the challenge on my blog, Writing in Public.

  And, as with any good series, I plan on going into year two with the challenge of Writing in Public.

  So thanks for all the support over this last eleven months and I hope this has been fun and entertaining enough that you will join me for another year.

  And maybe the year or two beyond that. As with most of the stories I write, I can see this magazine just going on and on.

  I have no idea what will be coming in stories exactly, but I do have a lot of stories I want to write.

  And I’m going to keep having fun.

  Dean Wesley Smith

  July 8, 2014

  Lincoln City, Oregon

  Asked in the middle of the night to help the dangerous race called Silicon Suckers, Poker Boy faces a challenge like none other.

  He and Front Desk Girl risk their lives to help the alien-looking creatures, but then come face-to-face with what their bargain just might mean in the future.

  DRIED UP

  A Poker Boy Story

  ONE

  I VERY SELDOM get the feeling that something is wrong while sleeping beside Patty Ledgerwood, aka Front Desk Girl. In fact, until that very moment, it had never happened. Nothing ever seemed to be wrong when I was with Patty and not on a mission.

  I get the “something-is-wrong” feeling at poker tables all the time, usually when another professional player is attempting to bluff me out of my shoes and all my money.
I have learned to pay attention to that feeling, almost as if it is one of my superpowers. By paying attention, I have saved myself a ton of money over the years.

  Right now I was in Patty’s apartment near the University of Nevada, Las Vegas campus. In her master bedroom, to be exact. I could hear her regular breathing beside me, which told me she was sound asleep. The wonderful smell of her rose perfume filled the air and the feel of her expensive, fine-cotton sheets against my mostly bare skin felt wonderful, just as they always did.

  Patty had had the day off, and we had spent it together; first at a movie, then a nice dinner at the buffet at the MGM Grand, and then back to her apartment to cuddle on the couch and watch television before heading to bed.

  It didn’t get much better these days.

  But now, even without opening my eyes, I knew something was wrong.

  I eased one eye open without moving, and couldn’t see a thing in the dark room. The only light came from a nightlight in the bathroom to the right of the room and an alarm clock on the nightstand beside me. There was no light coming under the heavy curtains over the patio door, so it was still dark outside as well.

  I eased over to glance at the time, and a lightning storm went off in the sheets.

  And that wasn’t a metaphor for some sexual thing.

  A real lightning storm erupted around me, as more static electricity than I could imagine let loose.

  And each spark was like a kid pinching me. Let me tell you, the sparks hurt.

  “Wow!” I said out loud as I sat up.

  It was as if I had rubbed my entire body across a carpet and then was touching things.

  My movement caused the sheets to explode with even more static electricity which woke Patty up, and she sat bolt upright in bed as well, causing even more sparks as she sat stunned at the light show going on around us.

  And the tiny pinches of pain with every large spark.

  Somehow, every bit of moisture had been sucked out of the room, and a very large, background, static electric charge had filled the air.

  “Sit still,” I said, as Patty moved slightly and the room lit up with a light show once again.

  “Ouch!” Patty said, freezing in place. “That hurts.”

  I had heard of many reasons for friction in bed, but this was ridiculous.

  But in the light caused by the sparks with Patty’s last movement, I had seen the problem.

  Two alien-looking creatures with large black eyes and oblong heads stood at the end of the bed, staring at us.

  It was like a scene out of a bad alien-abduction movie.

  The UFO conspiracy people called them “Grays,” but I knew them to be members of a race native to Earth called the Silicon Suckers.

  In fact, they had been around far, far longer than humans.

  They hate water and could deal with very little if any of it. Clearly they took what water they needed right out of the air around them.

  They lived in very dry caves in the desert. The caves were so dry, the air would kill a human after just a couple of days, even with enough drinking water, which wasn’t allowed in the homes of the Silicon Suckers.

  Their very presence in Patty’s apartment had sucked all the moisture out of the room.

  I had never heard of a Silicon Sucker being seen inside a human city. Something had to be very, very wrong.

  I carefully motioned for Patty to look at the foot of the bed. The sparks from my slight movement bit into me again and lit up the room.

  She saw them and her breath sucked in with surprise. She instinctively pulled the sheet up to her neck covering up her nightgown and causing a large electrical storm around her and me.

  Damn those little sparks hurt. It was lucky we just didn’t burst into flames right there.

  “Sorry,” she said, holding her breath against the pain.

  I had dealt with the Silicon Suckers a number of times before, and been in their sacred caves they called “sand castles.” I had always been welcomed in their world because of a couple of favors I had done for them over the last few years.

  “Greetings, honored guests,” I said, bowing my head slightly and hoping the movement wouldn’t set the sheets on fire. “What do I owe this great honor?”

  Both Silicon Suckers bowed in return. Both looked identical. The one on the right spoke.

  “Poker Boy, Front Desk Girl, we ask for your assistance in a matter of importance to our people.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Both Patty and I bowed slightly.

  After the sparks stopped I said, “It will be a great honor to help our friends.”

  Both again bowed in acceptance. “Our leader will speak to you at sunrise.”

  “We will attend,” I said, also bowing again and setting off even more sparks. This room was going to need a humidifier real quick or we would be calling for fire trucks.

  Without another word, the two turned and went out through curtains covering the bedroom’s patio door, setting off a huge wave of sparks. I knew for a fact that the door had been locked and secured when we had gone to bed.

  I had no idea how they had gotten in, or how they would get from Patty’s apartment near UNLV, across town, actually across the Strip, and back into the desert.

  The moment the curtains dropped back into place in a shower of static electricity, I instantly transported us into the living room area of Patty’s apartment. The air there felt dry, but nothing like the intense lack of moisture in the bedroom.

  I loved my newly learned superpower of teleportation. I just never expected to use it teleporting out of Patty’s bed.

  Patty used a napkin to flip on a light, took one look at me and started to laugh.

  Now trust me, a beautiful woman in a sheer blue nightgown laughing when she sees your almost-naked body does not do wonders for even my superhero ego.

  But I had to admit she looked just as funny. Besides all the tiny red marks all over her arms and wonderful legs that showed under her nightgown, her long brown hair stuck out in all directions from her head like she had been attacked by a mad hairdresser. Her hair was spread so wide, I doubt she could even get through a door.

  And her wonderful face looked like it had a bad case of measles.

  I glanced down at my own legs and chest, also covered with hundreds and hundreds of small red marks, as if I had been attacked by a swarm of bed bugs. Then I felt my brown hair, which was also standing straight out in all directions. And I could also feel my face was covered in the tiny red bumps from the electrical shocks.

  Thank heavens I had worn my boxers to bed. The thought of electronic shocks to certain parts of my body just made me shudder.

  TWO

  AFTER WE CAREFULLY opened the windows and doors to let in some of what now seemed like balmy and humid Las Vegas summer air, we both drank three large glasses of water.

  Thirsty didn’t begin to describe what I was feeling.

  Then, when we both had extra-large glasses of water in our hands, I shouted at the ceiling. “Stan. Need help!”

  I have no idea how he always heard me, but he always did. Stan was the God of Poker, and my immediate boss.

  An instant later he appeared in Patty’s living room in front of us, looking grumpy that I had disturbed him in the middle of the night. He normally wore brown slacks, a light sweater, and black shoes. He was a short man, not even close to my six-foot height, and I seldom saw him smile. His dark hair was cut very short all the time, and his eyes looked almost black.

  But tonight he had on a white golf shirt and blue golf shorts and the shorts looked like they were on backwards. When the God of Poker can’t even dress himself, he really was tired.

  He started to say something, then took one look at us and started laughing. I had seen him laugh a few times, but when a god starts to laugh at you, it is always worrisome.

  But I had to admit that we did look funny. There was no containing our hair and the red marks on our faces, arms, and legs were getting brighter
by the second.

  “You two go through a swarm of bees on a rollercoaster?”

  “Nope,” I said as he laughed. “Just an electrical storm in bed.”

  He started to make some joke, then looked at Patty, then back at me and couldn’t say anything because he was laughing too hard.

  “I’m not kidding,” I said. “Two Silicon Suckers woke us up and asked for our help.”

  Stan’s laughing instantly vanished and he went back to his normal poker face. His golf shirt and golf shorts instantly became his normal slacks and sweater and black shoes.

  It seemed I now had his attention and he was very much awake.

  “How in the world did they get here?” he asked, shaking his head. “And when are you supposed to meet them?”

  “We are meeting their leader at sunrise.”

  “You are meeting the Great One?”

  Now he was stunned and when he said it like that, it bothered me as well. Patty just looked worried under all the red marks and massive head of hair spread out three feet around her head. It was going to take her some real time once the static charge faded to untangle all that wonderful long hair.

  “You ever heard of the Silicon Suckers coming into any human town?” I asked Stan. “Just to ask for human help?”

  “Never,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Have you heard any rumors about anything going wrong in their caves? Or anyone having a run-in with them?”

  “Nothing,” he said, “but I might have missed something. Stay put, I’m going to go get Burt and maybe Laverne.”

  He vanished.

  Laverne was Lady Luck herself, in charge of all of the gambling and gaming universe. Burt was her second in command. I’d been around Lady Luck a number of times now, and Patty and I and the team had actually saved her life once. But she still scared hell out of me.