Tonight we begin Part 6 of the Twin Paradox trilogy. It's called Legends and Impostors. In this first chapter we learn of Ozzie Guerrero's journey from Darmstadt (via Frankfurt, Germany) to Houston, Texas. There he hopes to connect with his twin brother Praxido. Repeatedly mistaken for his famous sibling, he gets to see what it's like being a recognized celebrity.
Also, you'll want to listen in at the end of this evening's podcast for an interview with special guest A.D. Randall, author of the fantasy novel Death's Final Love Note. She'll be in the studio to give a preview of her latest work.
Tonight we begin Part 6 of the Twin Paradox trilogy. It's called Legends and Impostors. In this first chapter we learn of Ozzie Guerrero's journey from Darmstadt (via Frankfurt, Germany) to Houston, Texas. There he hopes to connect with his twin brother Praxido. Repeatedly mistaken for his famous sibling, he gets to see what it's like being a recognized celebrity.
Also, you'll want to listen in at the end of this evening's podcast for an interview with special guest A.D. Randall, author of the fantasy novel Death's Final Love Note. She'll be in the studio to give a preview of her latest work.
Hello and welcome back to Season Two of Twin Paradox. I'm King Everett Medlin and what you're listening to is a SciFi trilogy I wrote four years ago under the pen name Purple Hazel. Twin Paradox follows my first podcast series entitled Deathwalker Colony, which is now a full length novel available for purchase on Amazon, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series, the Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. Go online and check 'em out!
Speaking of that, you'll want to listen in to the end of this evening's podcast for an interview with my special guest, A.D. Randall, author of the fantasy novel Death's Final Love Note. She'll be joining me in the studio later and will give a preview of her latest work.
Tonight we begin Part 6 of the Twin Paradox trilogy. It's called Legends and Impostors. In this first chapter we learn of Ozzie Guerrero's journey from Darmstadt (via Frankfurt, Germany) to Houston, Texas. There he hopes to connect with his twin brother Praxido. Repeatedly mistaken for his famous sibling, he's about to see what it's like being a recognized celebrity.
Twin Paradox is a SciFi series encompassing three full length novels, all of which can be found on Amazon.com. You can go online and purchase them, or, if you prefer, listen to me read them to you. So let's continue. Ladies and Gentlemen, Part 6: Legends and Impostors. Chapter 28: Being in His Shoes.
It took an entire day for Oswaldo Guerrero to travel all the way from Darmstadt, Germany to Houston, Texas. A bullet-fast train ride up to Frankfurt, then a long journey by air ship to Houston was required - after a quick stopover in Paris of course - which allowed Ozzie to look out the window and see the famed City of Lights, all renewed and restored to its former glory.
It was hard to believe the French capital had once been the scene of horrendous rioting, looting, and public anarchy less than a century ago. Over a third of the city had been devastated during the aftermath of the Great Collapse of 2028. Ravaged by fire and rampaging gangs until the military was able to regain control several months later, it had taken decades to rebuild.
Ozzie brought with him a military-issue duffle bag packed with his dress uniform neatly folded inside, as well as changes of socks and underwear plus a casual outfit that he could change into. Monika, their bubbly reorientation counselor, had helped him purchase this so he could dress in 22nd century attire and not have to look like an officer in Space Programme everywhere he went. However, for the trip itself he wore a beret with his military insignia and pressed khaki pants with a matching buttoned shirt which held all his medals and accommodations. This plus his official GU pass entitled him to free travel worldwide.
His breast was adorned with service medals including one shaped like a spacecraft dangling from a set of two braided bars - which were black and had 24 yellow-gold stripes signifying each of his years in space. No one had ever worn such a thing before. Only returning crew members from the Santa Maria could ever earn such an amazing military decoration. It drew attention practically everywhere he went – especially in Frankfurt.
But when he arrived in Houston, something else about the young man seemed to catch everyone’s eye. Making his way around Houston Hobby air terminal, he was fascinated to see people constantly making eye contact with him and smiling. Sometimes they were even pointing at him. Took quite a while before he finally made the connection. They seemed to recognize him! He wondered at first if perhaps they’d seen him on Ultravision during the trial.
It was only when a small boy of about nine or ten ran up to him; with his parents all giggly and excited in the background, that Ozzie slowly began putting it together. The child wanted an autograph. “Ranger, Ranger!” exclaimed the lad, and when he did so it drew a crowd of curious Texans and other commuters wanting to see what the ruckus was all about. Mystery solved. “Shit,” he thought to himself amusedly. “They think I’m my twin brother.”
The youth was wearing a white replica Megaball jersey - much like his brother wore when playing for Dallas. It had the number 65 emblazoned on the front, and scarlet red sleeves with images of a cowboy’s lasso and hat stitched onto the upper arm. What’s more the boy had an ink pen and was offering it up to him to perform the task. That’s when Ozzie grew apprehensive regarding this chance encounter with one of his brother’s devoted fans. He wasn't so sure how to sign his brother's - or for that matter even his own - name.
Poor Ozzie. Twenty-four Earth years in space. He’d not used a writing implement of any kind since he was ten, and barely remembered how to do it. Onboard the ship they used keyboards to type information. Never wrote anything by hand. Didn’t have to. Most devices responded to voice commands anyway. Now after all these years he could hardly draw letters anymore!
Nevertheless he soldiered through it and in large letters wrote RANGER across the upper left chest of the child’s shirt, struggling at times to remember just how to create them. He mistakenly forgot the “A” in Ranger and had to go back to squeeze one in after realizing it didn’t look right. No one seemed to care. Hands reached out to shake his; or fists were thrust forward for him to punch lightly in the manner of athletes congratulating one another after a big play. As the crowd circled around him it was almost unnerving! But Ozzie greeted them graciously and thanked them for their kindness. Wasn’t much else he could think of to do.
“So this is what it’s like huh?” he mused to himself. “This is what it’s like to be a world famous athlete. Now I know.” And as he waded through the masses of people in the terminal he began to appreciate what it meant to be frequently recognized. “Can’t go nowhere without people wanting a moment of your time - a little piece of that fame you’ve earned - just to tell everyone they’ve met you. Yeah, I get it. God … what my poor brother must go through dealing with this crap. Bet it gets old real fast.”
It continued that night even when he checked into his hotel. Sure enough the long journey from Germany had put him in Houston too late in the day to try and find a driver who could take him all the way to Katy, Texas. He’d assumed it would and he was right. What’s more he only knew his brother had a house there and nothing more. Didn’t know exactly where it was. Just had an address, but what good was that after being in space for over two decades? That’s why Ozzie had Monika back at Space Programme try and contact Práxedis before he left. Had her send him a message via electronic mail earlier that day – just so he’d know Ozzie was coming.
Unfortunately, the restaurant in the hotel, it turned out, had stopped serving food by that late hour and Ozzie by this point was famished. So, he went over to the bar next door hoping he could at least order himself a hamburger. Didn’t take long for him to be mistaken for his brother once again. This time the whole bar soon found out.
It was nearly overwhelming! Liquored up Texans this time, travelers mostly, but even a few locals who’d ambled in for “happy hour”; they recognized him within minutes. Only his military uniform threw them off at first; but even that didn’t stop them from swarming around the young man like college students crowding around a pizza box after a late-night study session. It started with one star-struck fan, then quickly took off from there.
“Hey looky there will ya’?” exclaimed a drunkard at the bar. He was sitting with his wife (or girlfriend … or female companion of some sort) nearby, nursing a glass of tequila mixed with orange juice and grenadine that had an orange wedge perched on the side – a “Tequila Sunrise”. He was at that moment taking another sip when he saw what looked to him like the famous Megaball player. Recognized him almost immediately. What’s more he felt inclined to alert most everyone around him to his discovery.
“Darlin’, ain’t that Ranger Guerrero from the Wranglers?” he asked her. His inebriated female sidekick didn’t seem to make the connection.
“Nah, dummy … he’s from Space Command, see?” She’d seen enough of that type of uniform to identify them easily by now – especially with all the media coverage of the recent trial. However the middle aged sports fan was quite adamant.
“Yeah, he is. Seriously Elvira. Look. It’s him I’m tellin ya’. He lives near Houston I heard. Musta been travelin’ and just stopped in for a beer. You know how much them ‘ole Megaballers like ta’ party it up. What say we buy his first round?” The woman smirked and chided the fellow.
“Whatever Devin,” she slurred, “I’m just sayin’ I think that’s just some feller from the space agency.” Devin wasn’t buying it.
“Hey Ranger!” he bellowed out, and Ozzie looked up instinctively. The bartender had just brought him a glass of beer, which he’d intended to sip on until they brought him his order for dinner.
“Uh … er … Double guacamole cheeseburger with uh…bacon please?” he’d just requested. This suddenly sounded like the most amazing American delicacy he could possibly imagine. “Also, can you bring me a bowl of your chile con queso? I ain’t never had me none o’ that.”
The bartender eyed him warily for a moment, grinning slightly like it sounded rather odd to hear a fellow Texan admit to not eating cheesy Queso Dip before. He chuckled, “Okay Mr. Guerrero, I’ll fetch ya’ some. Want some chips to eat it with, or you wanna juss … swig it down from a shot glass?” He was kidding of course - obviously thought Ozzie was Práxedis Guerrero as well. However, it truly stumped Ozzie for a moment, not remembering anymore how one ate queso - after so many years away. Last he’d been in Texas, he was only ten years old. They didn’t serve gourmet food at the orphanage of course. Certainly not appetizers.
“Yer way is as good as mine,” he quipped cleverly. “Bring it anyway ya’ want to I reckon.” The man snickered some more and said he recommended it with steamed corn tortillas.
“Not a bad idea to just smother yer cheeseburger in it too … if yer so inclined,” he added. “That’s how I like it I mean.” Ozzie’s eyes widened with delight as he agreed with a happy nod of his head. At that point he was hungry enough to eat his own arm. By then Devin the drunk was already staggering up to him at the bar.
“So what’s with the military duds, Hoss?” asked the man. His breath smelled even stronger than his after shave. “You go and retire from sports ‘n then enlist in Space Programme? What the hell would ya’ wanna do a thang like that fer?” Ozzie thought fast.
“Nah … um … costume party … later on tonight,” claimed Ensign Guerrero. “Wanted to go as a security guard or a fireman, but all they had at the shop was this old piece o’ shit sailor suit for me to wear. How about you? What’s your excuse?” Once Ozzie had said all that, with a smart-ass grin forming on his face, the man looked down at his own western-style shirt and bolo tie that he was wearing. Belly hanging over his belt line. Ostrich skin cowboy boots and charcoal black denim jeans to complete the ensemble. The bartender started laughing uproariously - overhearing the conversation while working on another drink order.
“Hahahah. Good one Ranger,” the drunk replied. “I couldn’t help it, sorry! My Dallas Wranglers replica jersey done got a big ‘ole chili stain on it ‘n this is how the wife dressed me up this mornin’.” Then he laughed some more. “Hey let me get that round of beer for ya’. I’m a fan if I didn’t tell ya’ already. Name’s Devin Smythe. Wife Elvira down the bar there - hey, say hi to Ranger Guerrero, honey!” Elvira waved and smiled from her bar stool. Held up a single hand and wiggled her fingers a bit. Ozzie nodded toward her and tipped his cap.
“Bring her down the bar and I’ll autograph her titties for ya’ if you wanna,” smirked Ozzie. This only made the man laugh harder. Cracked everyone else up as well. In fact, within half an hour, Ozzie was the center of attention. Never paid a single Euro that night. No one would let him. Bartender even comp’d his cheeseburger, which Ozzie only managed to eat half of, he was so busy mingling and talking to people.
Folks would come up and shake his hand. They’d tell him about the first time or the last time they’d seen him play. Ask him about retirement. Tell him about their favorite play - or simply ask him what it was like to be a “sports icon”. Meanwhile Ozzie lapped it up like a kitten with a saucerful of cream. He’d ask them about their lives and their families and their jobs as well. Took an interest in them. Made them feel important, while Ozzie himself learned quite a lot about how people lived on Earth nowadays. They in turn loved “Ranger Guerrero” the man; even more than they idolized him as a sports star. He drank beer until way past midnight when he finally called it a day and bid them adieu.
“What a fuckin’ blast! Y’all ‘r amazin’ … ‘n I ain’t lyin’ neither,” he slurred as he made his way out of the bar. The other patrons waved and chanted his brother’s name like they were in a stadium. Ozzie then staggered over to the elevator and up to his room where he eventually poured himself into bed. Woke up only once to go have himself a good long pee, then returned to bed and slept in … until just past 09:00 … dreaming about the night before and recalling the thrill of being treated like someone famous.
If this was truly the life his brother led, then Ozzie was sincerely happy for him. Had more fun in four hours than he’d had in recent memory. Only when he awoke the next morning did he get a chance to assess the whole incredible experience.
“Man, my brother’s lucky,” Ozzie muttered to himself as he stumbled over to the toilet to relieve himself once more. Leaned forward and planted his hand against the wall, so that he could endure the long, drawn out process of emptying his bladder which was quite apparently still half full of lager beer. To make matters worse, he was feeling the effects of his first-ever hangover.
“Shit, if he gets treated like that ever-where he goes, then God Almighty he’s got it good,” he continued. “I wouldn’t mind being in his shoes more often, come to think of it.”
As he urinated for a few more seconds, and drained out the last few droplets, he then snickered a bit and mused, “Yep. He’s fortunate to be loved ‘n admired so much … by so many. Bet he feels pretty damn good with himself, accomplishin’ all o’ that.” After a short pause he added with a jealous smirk, “Fucker.”
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Ozzie, out west of the city, many miles away, another man with exactly the same face and almost the same body … same eyes and same crooked smile … had begun his weekend with a rather different perspective on things ….
This concludes tonight's podcast of Chapter 28, Being in his Shoes. I hope you enjoyed it. Watch for chapter 29 which I'll be posting very soon.
And now for our special guest tonight, A.D. Randall. She's here to tell us about her latest novel Death's Final Love Note. Welcome!
A.D. Randall: Great to be here; thanks for having me.
So, tell us about Death's Final Love Note.
A.D. Randall: Sure. (reads excerpt)
"I am going to die, I am going to die young—a very sharp knife of a very short life."
Those very words haunt seventeen year old Lillian Baxter every day. Lilly, her four brothers and her workaholic parents are going to spend the summer at the lake house she’s dreamed about going to since she was 11 years old. Only one problem; Lilly’s been diagnosed with stage four liver cancer.
Lilly and her brothers explore the woods surrounding the small town of Thunder Creek. One fateful day they stumble upon a sea of tall green grass and beautiful wild flowers. Lilly doesn’t notice the meadow; instead her eyes are drawn towards the edge where a large Victorian style house is hidden among tall pine trees. Dreaming of the house, she meets a boy, Zander, who is more slippery than an eel.
Lilly’s life is turned upside down. Secrets are revealed, sometimes secrets aren't meant to be exposed. Lilly begins to play a game with the Devil. The ultimate game is for her soul.
Sounds like a fascinating book. By the way, thanks for doing the character Elvira earlier. It's always great to have a second voice during my episodes so I don't have to do all of the characters myself!
Folks, you can find Ms. Randall's book on smashwords.com, as well as at Barnes & Noble. A link will be included in the transcript for this episode.
Also, and don't forget, my latest full length novel, Deathwalker Colony, is available for purchase right now on Amazon, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series: The Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. Go online and check 'em out!
I'm King Everett Medlin. Thanks for tuning in.
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