“Does anyone here know Volt Shirley? If you do, I’m going to kill that mother next time I see him!” Okay, he’s going to kill my brother, he’s got my interest; I’ll bite. “Why, oh why are you going to kill him?” I hope my beer doesn’t go stale waiting for this idiot, Harvey, to answer. “Why do you want to know?” “Well, as his brother, I’d like to tell my parents at the funeral the noble reason why he died.” The night sky exploded in a profusion of stars, moons, planets and galaxies. I wasn’t sure how I came to be this spaceman when a moment earlier I was sipping a beer with friends and locals in Chasey’s Field off of old Witchtrot Road in South Berwick, Maine. And then it hit me. No not an emotional realization but the bat in Harvey’s hand. Whap! Uh oh, more stars. A lot more stars. Whap, whap! Fuck, my head is getting bashed in! This was no field trip to the local observatory. No, this was an old fashioned melon busting by this completely deranged douche bag. I was lying on