Oh God, Stop the Wine

© 2011 by Don Crockett. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 06/14/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4634-2551-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-2550-0 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-2549-4 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011910122

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The Crockett Classics Collection

The Diana Adventure Series

Buried In Stone

Murder My Shadows

The Glass Sword

The Blue Death

The Last Golden Warrior

Almost Murder

Other Classics Available

Oh God, It’s Wine

Oh God, Stop The Wine

Grandpa’s Legends Of Christmas

2007, 2008, 2009, 2010

Contents

PRETTY PIX

PHOTOGRAPHY AND DESIGN

Only A God Would Understand!!

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

Wine, Women, and a Witch Doctor!

About The Author

Unlike the characters in my novels I seem to have an endless supply of both new and old friends to draw from for this incredible novel I have just written.

I can only hope I have done all of you a great deal of justice in my latest endeavor and that it will give you much enjoyment as you find out if I really did have the nerve to put you in the story line.

Naturally, the next question will be, what comes next?

The answer will not be forthcoming right now, but you can rest assured that all my characters seem to take on a life of their own these days and this novel is no exception to that rule.

Enjoy the work and let us dream the dreams of Kings and Queens down through the ages, to be a part of something great, something very few of us ever experience.

Author

PRETTY PIX

PHOTOGRAPHY AND DESIGN

I was born in Jacksonville, AR in 1984. I am just a small town girl who grew up loving anything & everything to do with art, photography & design. When I am behind a blank piece of paper, my camera, or my computer screen . . . the world disappears, and it is just me and my creation.

I can’t even remember how old I was when I first started taking an interest in art and photography; I guess it just grew to be a part of me. As a child, my grandfather was the photographer of the family. He always had his camera nearby just in case a Kodak moment arrived. And he began letting me take the pictures now and then, and ever since . . . I’ve been hooked. I love capturing all sorts of things on camera: people, landscapes, animals . . . you name it.

Drawing has always come natural to me, but my first art instructor in grade school, Mrs. Haley, put a spark of confidence in me. Of course my family & friends encouraged me, but I guess having someone from the outside take an interest in my work made me realize I might actually have something to offer. I mostly enjoy cartooning, abstract art & expressionism. I love taking the ordinary & putting my spin on it.

When I was in junior high, I immediately found out the requirements to be in annual staff. And by senior year, I was editor. It allowed all of my attributes to take their place: art, photography, writing & design. After graduation, I got married & less than a year later I was blessed with the most precious piece of art I have ever seen . . . my daughter Trisity. She has sparked the artist in me even more. Looking at her, I see the beauty in all of God’s creations & she has inspired me to stretch myself & push forward with my dreams of being an artist/photographer/author. Every single day is a masterpiece . . . and God is the artist.

I began my own photography & design business in the fall of 2009, and am always looking for more opportunities to challenge myself & share my God given talents with the world.

Heather Parrish

trisitygrace@yahoo.com

www.facebook.com/prettypix.heatherparrish

Only A God Would Understand!!

The early morning sun came out with a hot blazing vengeance, taking away the long dark shadows near the oldest Aztec ruins. Although these ruins were still encased with all the vines and jungle growth one would be hard pressed to see them unless by some chance you were to stumble upon them. Miles away from the modern day hum of civilization the jungle came awake slowly as the beasts started their hunts for survival.

High on top of the highest pyramid in a large room made of solid rock, a brown skinned woman was sitting by a fire muttering some incantation only she understood. But as the morning wore on she suddenly became very upset and sat there rocking back and forth, shaking her head violently as if she was in a trance and evil things were speaking to her. Then she seemed to give into whatever possessed her as her head slumped and she fell into a sound sleep.

Out of the shadows a large all white boa constrictor, thick bodied and about eighteen feet long slithered across the floor of the rock walled room and raised its massive head as if to study the still sleeping form of the native woman. Satisfied there was no danger it continued to slide across the floor and start to lay across the body as if it meant to crush the human in its massive coils. But instead it just laid there its massive length and body seemed to become one with the native woman.

Outside in the stifling heat a small group of native women walked out of the jungle and paused at the base of the pyramid. One by one they climbed the rocks and placed a basket of fresh fruit and other things as tribute to the small strange woman inside, then they quietly made their way back down to the jungle and left knowing they had done as others had done for countless generations before them.

Although the ruins were of the Aztec time, the small native woman who lived all alone in them was a strange mixture. She was the last of her kind, a mixture of Aztec and Mayan, but also the last of her people, the Olmecs, who had flourished in this area between 1200 B.C. and 400 B.C.

They were best known for the massive stone heads they could carve from stone. The ruins were close to a site called San Lorenzo, which was believed to be the center of the Olmec world. But who could be sure, for it was the time before even the mighty Maya or Aztec came to the area.

The natives in the area called the woman Tzitzimincivuatl or Devil Woman. It was an Aztec name but everyone knew she was strange and not of their tribes. She was a person who also knew the rich history of everyone and was in direct contact with strange gods that could destroy them in an instant. Everyone feared her and even the elders of their group would not dare seek her out for help or her wisdom.

All they could do was abide her and hope that one day she would join her strange gods and disappear so they wouldn’t have to bring her tributes any longer.

It was late in the afternoon when a small rain shower soaked the jungle and caused an almost pleasant breeze to flow through the rock room as the snake decided to slither off nearer to the wall for warmth. The native woman sat up and stretched then walked outside to find the tributes that had been brought for her. Selecting several plump jungle fruits she sat down on the edge of the steps to eat them and spoke in her long lost native language to no one alive as she finished off her snack.

She then walked back into her room and found a long jungle gourd that had been carved out as she picked it up and walked back outside. With a sigh she put the long end to her mouth and blew in it as a loud moan came from it. The sound from that height would travel for miles as she repeated the sound many times. Finally out of breath she walked back inside for a drink of her fermented jungle juices and some water.

She then set about gathering up a couple of large canvass bags that she had found on her wanderings years ago and filled them with a variety of strange herbs, roots, and dried plants and other things she might need. Last but not least, she found her old hat with the sombrero type brim wide enough to cover her face and most of her shoulders. The last thing she found was her staff, which was decorated with all sorts of bones and feathers.

Taking a last look around the room where she and many others like her had lived for centuries, she walked back outside as she saw over one hundred natives and their families standing at the base of the pyramid waiting for what she had to tell them.

She took a stance like some ancient general of olden times before she walked back and forth yelling down at them in their language that the gods were done with this old place and she was going into the modern world, which needed her more than the simple people around here. She would require three men to help her carry her heavy bags to a small village of Arriapa near the main highway. Ending her speech to the shocked natives below her she said in a loud voice, The Olmacs are no more to this place, I go now!

Not believing their good fortune finally three of the young men ran up the steps, gathered up her canvas bags and followed her down from the pyramid and into the jungle as she led them away.

It was a good two days hard walk to the village as the small group walked swiftly through the jungle without a word spoken between them. Finally in the late afternoon of the second day they came to the outskirts of the small village as the woman pointed to the long black ribbon of highway in the distance. At the edge of the blistering hot payment she pointed to where she would sit in the shade of a nearby tree and dismissed the men with a wave of her hand.

Only too glad to be rid of the woman they hurried off to find some food and water for the return trip into the jungle. As the rest of the hot day passed on the old woman sat unmoving studying the very few cars and trucks that passed by her at a high rate of sped without even a glance at the native sitting in the shade.

Then her head snapped up as she reached into one of her bags and found a small doll made of grasses and covered with a dirty piece of burlap made a long time ago. As she looked toward the north on the highway nothing was visible for a long time but as she waited patiently until at last a new looking motor home came into view headed south. A small smile appeared on her face as she suddenly threw the doll out onto the payment and waited as the large bus type house passed her then ran over the doll smashing it into the hot payment. Suddenly the motor quit and the bus rolled to a stop not more than a hundred feet from where she stood. She slowly walked toward it as the door opened and an older man and woman climbed down, wondering what in the world could have caused their motor home to quit so suddenly. She heard the woman tell her husband, Oh goodness, Mac, what in the world is we going to do now? There’s no one around for miles!

By now the husband had the engine compartment opened and his head stuck in the engine trying to see if a wire or something had come loose as he replied, Now Myrtle, don’t go getting all upset on me. We’ve had rough going before and came through it all right. Besides, this is a main highway and sooner or later some policeman or soldier will come along.

Neither one of them had heard the old woman come up behind them as Mac suddenly saw her and startled he asked, Well for goodness sakes, look what we have here? Hello, do you speak English?

The woman still didn’t reply as she shook her head and as Mac bent down to speak to her again she suddenly grabbed him by the throat and muttered some incantation and with her other hand she sprinkled some herbs over his head. Mac was gasping for breath as he tried to loosen her grip. Then quick as a snake she let him go and grabbed Myrtle by her throat and repeated the process.

Suddenly both Mac and Myrtle seemed to slip into a waking type trance as the old woman said to them, Do you hear me now? Do not be afraid for I have not come to hurt you, the gods said you came from a place far away and there is great evil that will come there and try to kill you. They have sent me to help out. Man, go fetch my bags and put them in this strange traveling house. We no longer go this direction, but back to where you have traveled from.

Mac shook his head as he tried to explain, I’m sorry our motor home is broken. It won’t run anymore. We need someone to fix it. Do you understand, what I am telling you?

Without answering the woman just nodded at him as she walked to the front of the motor home and with a resounding smack she hit the front of it with her staff then pointed at Mac to get her bags and get in.

Mac walked back to the spot where she had been sitting and picked up her heavy bags and stowed them in the luggage compartments and climbed into the driver’s seat. With a blank look on his face he turned the key and smiled as the motor turned over and ran like a kitten once again.

Myrtle leaned over and asked him, Mac, where in the world is she going to take us? Do you think she’ll hurt us?

Mac just shrugged as he replied, Well honey, I’m not sure but I think our adventure in Mexico have come to a close for now. In any case I’m turning around and heading North, which is what she wants us to do. Maybe she just wants to see some new countryside in her old age?

Myrtle stole a glance at their new friend sitting at the kitchen table enjoying the scenery as they sped back up the road toward the states. She then whispered to Mac, But why in the world did she pick us to travel with and where is she from I wonder?

Mac just smiled at her as he replied, Couldn’t say for sure but maybe it had something to do with that wild night you had with that old witch doctor, dancing their strange rituals around the fire. I told you then that devil stuff was dangerous but you just had to go and do it anyhow. Myrtle was worried as she asked, But what happens when we get to the border? She may not have any papers and they won’t let her go across with us. Maybe they’ll say we are smuggling her into the United States against her will or something?

Just then the old woman stamped her staff on the floor and said to them, "I am hungry! You will feed me now.

And when we get to your country I will become invisible to everyone except you, so don’t worry about it. Just make sure to get two bottles of tequila for dinner. I am thirsty also. You will need me sooner or later."

Mac just smiled as he replied, Well, I’ll say one thing for her she may lack on manners, but she knows what she wants and when she wants it. Who knows Myrtle; we may become the best of friends before this trip is over. Wouldn’t that be a kicker now? I just wonder what to tell Leo when we get back to Oregon, maybe he won’t want her around. But I guess its time to go home anyway, they’re probably wondering where we disappeared to. And we definitely don’t want them fellows in Homeland Security to think we’ve left the country for good after that last little go around we had.

Just then the old woman pointed with her staff at a grubby looking roadside stand that read in Spanish, Tacos, Beans, Hot Bread, Tequila and Beer.

As Mac pulled off the road and parked next to the stand, like a flash, the woman came to her feet and waited till Mac opened the door for her as she hurried over to where they stood watching the huge motor home come to a halt. Then she walked over to the stand and in a loud voice demanded a plate of food and two large bottles of Tequila.

The poor man at the stand didn’t know what to think as she stood there in her strange looking hat and native dress as he hurriedly put her food in a piece of paper and handed it to her. Then he bent down and got her two bottles of tequila as she muttered something to him and with the bottles of tequila under her arm she walked back and got back into the motor home as the man kept making the sign of the cross on his chest and backed away as far as he could go. Mac just shook his head having never seen the likes of it before as he turned the engine back on and kept on driving North.

He made his mind up that at the next largest town with a motel they would stop and get a room for Myrtle and him and a hot meal if the old girl in the back would still be awake when they stopped. With that much booze in her she would probably sleep the night away.

Mac could only hope she would be invisible when they finally reached the border. Myrtle and he had had several months of doing nothing but traveling around Mexico and searching out the different elders and gaining the knowledge of what was poisonous and how to use it. And the whole trip was jammed into several large boxes in the luggage compartments down below. It would take a small miracle to cross the inspection station without getting searched or having the whole load confiscated including Leo’s new motor home. Even though they had promised the head man from Homeland Security that they would never kill anyone again, Myrtle thought this would be the chance of a lifetime to really get into the subject and know how to do away with someone better than she had done over the years.

Besides, being the good husband he was he could never say no to her anyway. But Mac began to think strange things were in play as something was guiding them along and with this new person one could only hope they became friends, in a hurry.

However Mac wasn’t all that sure that even if they did lucky enough to cross the border and make it back to

Roseburg, Oregon, that little Roseburg was ready for the likes of someone like they were bringing to the party. This old woman was strange, maybe even way beyond strange.

Mac was also hoping they wouldn’t be forced to get rid of the woman for even with the skills that Myrtle and he possessed they might have met their match this time. He had to chuckle to himself as he wondered just how he was gong to explain all this to their boss.

Maybe the safe way would be to let Leo decide on how to get rid of her and keep out of it altogether. Either way, the best thing to do right now was to let her eat her food and drink her booze and hope to hell she was enjoying her ride

1

People who own their wineries are know for the strange hours and the hard work involved at all times. They are a very dedicated lot who are engrained with a unique sense of being meticulous and driven for the search for a perfect wine, something like the search centuries ago for the Holy Grail. But there are some cases of exception, as for example, the new winery called, The Gnarled Oaks Winery, located in the beautiful Umpqua Valley of Oregon.

The young man had so mysteriously appeared on the wine scene and spent untold thousands of dollars on the small boutique winery which had been hidden for so long behind a barrier of blackberry bushes that kept the vineyard from view. In a very short period of time he had completely remodeled the entire area of the winery, built a country store, and a bakery, called the Honey Pot, all with the help of an older couple and a beautiful woman who he claimed was his manager.

Now he was once again building, this time it’s a new golf course in the large valley in back of the vineyard on the other side of the hill. Already it was a complete success with the addition of several new businesses and a huge clubhouse, all located within the modern looking, 18 hole golf course, driving range and several putting greens.

But after some strange happenings and rather suddenly the older couple had left and everyone was told they were on vacation for an extended period of time. A couple of months later and very unexpectedly, the young woman decided that she had enough and packed up and left the young man, leaving him in a complete quandary.

Even his closet friends who came out to the bakery to see him became worried at his lack of interest in everything about him. But overall, he was fairly normal, at least as normal as one could be when everyone in the world wanted to kill him, and tried on several occasions. But this little known fact was not well known to any of his neighbors or even to his business partners, whom he lately acquired building the enormous golf course.

But on this particular night an older couple coming back from town and lived several miles down the road from the winery was surprised to see the entire winery lit up like a Christmas tree with every light in all the buildings burning brightly. Then they saw a funny looking electric golf cart come out of one of the huge garages. The young man who was driving seemed to be a little tipsy as he weaved down the long beautiful driveway and parked at the main gate. He then took out his sprayer and watered the beautiful flower baskets, full of different colored flowers, hanging off the 16 foot tall, all white, old fashioned light standards, even though it was raining.

They might have ignored it all, but as the older gentleman glanced at his watch he saw it was 2:30 am and the young man was doing something that seemed out of place, considering the time and all. Besides, the young man who may or may not be drunk, seemed to be doing all right, but as the couple slowed down past the beautiful new gates to the winery they could see he was dressed in his usual levis, sport shirt, and ball hat, as he turned and saw them watching him and waved as the rain stared to come down in earnest.

Leonardo da Vinci Jones or Smith, pending on when you had met him had a total of 24 huge old fashioned light standards with two beautiful baskets of different colored flowers on each one. These were his personal creation and his pets and he had spent a