Saturday, August 22, 2015

More from my latest novel

“I still say Klingons is the niggers of outer space,” Curtis Baumgartner said.
          Wayne Clewless took a slug of Pabst, then set down the can with authority and stared down the bar at Baumgartner like he was sighting him with his .22. “And I keep tellin you they ain't no niggers in space.”
          “I ain't talkin bout actual niggers. I'm sayin they is the niggers of space.”
          “And I'm sayin they ain't no niggers in space.”
        “ What he's sayin Wayne,” Buddy Burnsed stepped in, “ is ever place has its niggers. And in space it's the Klingons.”
          “But how'd they ever get in space? And how'd a bunch a niggers build a space ship? Answer me that. ”
          “Them Klingon ships do look like they's nigger-rigged, Curtis,” Buddy Burnsed said.
          “They ain't... regular... niggers,” Curtis Baumgartner explained, exasperated. “They got regular niggers on the Enterprise. You kin see the diff'rence.”
          “Okay. So you's sayin' they's space niggers.”
          “If thet's the closest you kin come to unnerstandin it, Wayne, then yeah. They's space niggers.”
          Wayne stared upward, visualizing the final frontier in the glo-in-the-dark stars glued to the ceiling.  “Well, if they's niggers in space, then why they ain't no Klan?  Answer me that.”
          Curtis almost fell off his stool.  “Wayne, you idiot – what'd you think the Fed'ration is?”
          Buddy Burnsed muttered “Jesus Christ, Wayne,” into his beer.   

"Levine is laugh out loud.  He is a master of the genre."  - Midwest Book Review

The Last Opus of Hector Berlioz ...  available on Amazon Kindle or e-mail for a real book

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