Poker Face
by William
Joseph Roberts
Fergus counted the cards of the well-worn deck diligently, dropping out
the jokers and placing them back into the cardboard box. He shuffled
the deck with the skill of a Vegas card shark.
“While that game...” he paused, thinking. “What did you call it?”
“Usska,” the sasquatch-like Rohbandi said.
“That’s it. While usska was fun, it’s time we show you an ancient card
game from our homeworld of Earth.” Fergus shuffled the deck again,
loudly this time, then tapped the deck on the table, neatly packing
them into order. “I have no doubt that each and every one of you will
greatly enjoy this game.” He spread the cards evenly across the table
in a fan-like pattern, then lifting the edge of the first card, flipped
the entire deck, fanned the deck back together, shuffled again and
placed the deck before the Rohbandi to his right.
The Rohbandi looked up at him with an odd, questioning glance.
“He wishes for you to cut the cards,” the cat-like creature standing
behind Fergus said. He casually leaned against the wall, reached
beneath his leather flight cap and scratched through his thick black
fur.
“Casraownan is correct, Skoocom. You may cut the cards if you wish, or
pass, trusting that Fergus has properly shuffled the deck,” Trae said.
The Rohbandi stared at Fergus, then back to the deck. “Cut the cards? I
do not have a blade with me that is suitable.”
“No, Skoocom,” Trae said. “He doesn’t mean to literally cut the cards.
He means to break up the deck yourself unless you fully trust the man
dealing the cards.”
“Ah! You mean to splay,” the sasquatch-like creature happily replied.
“I will be more than happy to splay the cards.” He separated the stack
of cards and divided it into six equal stacks then proceeded to restack
the deck and placed it back in front of Fergus.
Fergus stared at the cards for a long moment. “Hu,” he grunted.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he doesn’t trust you, Ferg,” Chico’s
voice boomed as he entered the room.
“Ya think,” Trae added. “He hasn’t had a whore house cut like that
since Tallahassee.”
“What happened in Tallahassee,” Chico asked.
“Don’t ask,” Trae said.
“Well the Veronica is all fueled and ready to go when y’all are,” the
mountain of a black man said. “Woody will be along in just a few. He’s
slowly navigating his way through the bar. That hover wagon of his
isn’t exactly small, ya know.” He closed the hatchway.
“It’s still better than being in the main room of the Mare,” Trae
added. “I’m glad Max told us about these side rooms so we don’t have to
worry about drawing the attention of the wrong crowd.”
“You alright there, Ferg,” Chico asked. He took a seat next
to a yellow haired Rohbandi on a well-worn sofa which sat against the
wall by the door.
“Yeah. Just a little flashback is all. It’s all good,” he breathed
heavily.
“We aren’t going to have an issue, are we,” Trae asked.
“I’ll gladly knock him out again if you need me to,” Casraownan said
with a hissing laugh. The cat-like Chinchassan shifted his weight to
the other foot and casually preened the black fur on his arms.
“No, I’m good,” Fergus said. “Just a quick flashback to Wichita Falls
is all.”
“Man, that was ten years ago,” Trae reminded him.
“I know,” Fergus said with heavy frustration. “I’m good, man.”
“Did I do something wrong,” the Rohbandi asked.
“No, Skoocom. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Trae assured the
bigfoot-like Rohbandi. “This is what we call a whore house cut back on
Earth. If someone cuts the cards in this manner, then you are not
trusted by them. The last time anyone cut the cards…,” he paused. “I’m
sorry, the last time anyone splayed the cards like this, we had to
fight our way out of a room very similar to this,” he motioned to the
room around them.
“Can we please get on with it already,” groaned Juuls, the blue
reptilian skinned Sf’Rums.
“I agree with Juuls. Get on with it already,” Sleed, the small Crogt
angrily concurred.
Fergus forced down a chuckle at the phrase.
“What is so funny,” Sleed asked. His four wide eyes squinted in a
perturbed countenance toward Fergus. The tips of his blue and red
goblin-like ears twitched with agitation. “I have an important meeting
very early in the morning. So if you will please proceed.”
“Okay, okay, let’s play cards,” Fergus giddily sighed, then began
dealing the cards. He placed one card face down, the other face up.
“The game we are about to play is a simple one. It’s called blackjack.”
Fergus dealt a five of hearts on the table in front of himself. “All
number cards such as this are worth their face value. Face cards such
as the king, queen or jack,” he said as he laid down the queen of
hearts on top of the five, “are worth ten points. The aces,” he said as
he dug through the deck, then placed the ace of spades next to the
other two cards, “are worth either one or eleven points. It is your
choice which you wish to use. To keep things simple, we’ll keep to the
basic straightforward rules for now. You tally up the total points
value of your hand with the goal to arrive at or as close to twenty-one
points as possible without going over. So, go ahead and look at your
face down cards,” Fergus instructed as he shuffled the cards he’d used
as examples back into the deck. “Now, if you are happy with your hand
and would like to stay, then by all means, stay. But if you’d like
another card, then you say, hit me. Here, I’ll start with Trae so you
can see for yourselves.
Trae looked at his face down card then to the three of diamonds which
was showing face up. “Hit me,” he said with a knock of knuckles on the
table.
Fergus dealt an additional card face up next to the first. “See, he has
a three and now a King. In itself, these total to thirteen, ten for the
face card and three for the three. So thirteen showing, but what is his
face down card?” Fergus looked questioningly around at the tables other
occupants then turned back to Trae. “What do you want to do, Trae,”
Fergus asked.
“Hit me,” Trae said, again rapping his knuckles on the table.
Fergus dealt the next card from the top of the deck and placed it next
to the others. “Four of clubs.”
“Dammit,” Trae shouted and slapped the table. He flipped the face down
card over to reveal a five of diamonds. “Bust,” he grumbled.
“See, he scored a total of twenty-two points, going over the goal of
twenty-one. So he’s out this round.”
“Oooo, I wish to go next,” Skoocom urged
“Scootch...um, wasn’t it,” Fergus asked, pointing at the massive brown
fur covered alien. A toothy wide smile perfectly fit the beaming
excitement in the Rohbandi’s large amber eyes.
“No, Skoocom,” The Rohbandi pleasantly said.
“Alright, Skoocom,” Fergus said. “We’ll start with you and go around
the table from there.”
“Yes, yes, excellent. Hit me,” Skoocom growled as he rapped his large
knuckles on the table.
“Alright,” Fergus said as he dealt the Rohbandi a jack of hearts.
“Dammit,” Skoocom shouted, pounding his hands against the table hard
enough to cause their drink glasses to jump in place.
Chico was immediately on his feet. “Alright now, big, dark and hairy.
How’s about we calm down just a notch.”
“Did I not do it correctly,” Skoocom asked. An unsure tone laced his
voice.
“You did perfectly fine,” Trae assured. “Just the next time you may
want to reign in the excitement just a little. We wouldn’t want to
break the bar’s table, would we?”
“Very truly, I shall endeavor to remember this.” Skoocom smacked
himself in the side of the head with a goofy roll of his eyes.
Juuls sighed with frustration. “Can we please move this along,” the
trader asked. “While I find all of this slightly entertaining, what I’m
really interested in is the merchandise you promised for us to inspect
and sample.”
“I agree,” Sleed added. “I am here to talk business and make money, not
to be entertained by parlor tricks.”
“But we were just getting started,” Skoocom complained.
“But...but...but,” Sleed parroted. “Why do we listen to him,” he asked
Juuls.
“Because we are gullible and take pity on our hairy friend,” Juuls
replied as she patted the Rohbandi on the shoulder.
The hatchway to the main bar suddenly swung open.
“Woody,” Trae blurted out. “Perfect timing.”
“Yeah,” Fergus added. “We were just talking about you.”
“My name is K’etu, not
Woody,” a robotic voice argued through the
speaker of a hover wagon, mounted by what looked to be a five-foot-tall
willow tree planted in the center of the dirt filled wagon. Woody
maneuvered the hover wagon into the room. The alien’s small, willow
tree like branches shivered and flailed as the robotic voice erupted
from the floating transport. “I
am an ambassador of my people, not a
pack blrrrrbg.”
“This had better have been worth the wait,” Sleed grumbled.
“I am sure it will be,” Skoocom said. “My clansman have spoken highly
of the humans and the beverage they ferment. I think they called it,
buurr.”
“Beer,” Fergus corrected. He quickly shuffled the cards together and
placed them back into the carton, tucking them away into his coveralls.
“And everyone has to earn their keep, Woody,” Fergus reminded the
It’Vit ambassador. He quickly made his way over to the hover wagon and
opened a rear hatch. Frosty fog wafted from the opening as he removed
four icy cold bottles from its depths. He popped the tops and passed
one to each of the aliens at the table, keeping the last one for
himself. He raised his bottle, presenting it in the semi dim light of
the room. “This, my friends, is a beer, but more than that, it is
classified as a lager due to its ingredients and the process by which
it is brewed. This represents only one of many hundreds of flavors of
beer available to the wide variety of pallets in the known galaxy. This
particular type has been very popular with your people, Skoocom,”
Fergus said to the Rohbandi merchant. He turned up his bottle and drank
deep, foamy gulps.
“Drink it while it’s cold though,” Chico added. “It doesn’t taste
nearly the same as it warms up.”
“And after you finish those,” Trae interrupted. He opened a separate
compartment on the hover wagon and produced a bottle of dark amber
liquid and a small wooden box. “I am about to share with you a sacred
rite of passage of manhood on our planet. A rite passed down from
father to son for hundreds of generations.”
“Now this is beginning to become an interesting evening,” Sleed said.
He sniffed cautiously at the open beer bottle. “Though if this beer
tastes as bad as it smells, this may have been a complete waste of my
time.”
“Oh, I don’t think the aroma is all that bad,” Juuls disagreed. She
took a long drink from the bottle. A contemplative smile crossed her
face. “Strangely sour, but not unpleasant.”
Sleed deeply sniffed at it once again and cringed. His body heaved.
“Then you do not have any idea of what tastes good and what doesn’t.”
“Then by all means, try this,” Trae suggested as he sat four shot
glasses down in front of the disgusted Crogt. “This is some of the
finest Scotch whiskey known to man. I was assured by the distillery
that it has been aged the last twenty-two years in charred oak barrels.”
Sleed looked at the amber liquid with skepticism as Trae decanted it
from the ornate glass bottle.
“Now before you taste it, you must first try another of the finest
things Earth has to offer in the way of goods.” Trae opened the small
wooden box and produced a dark, thumb sized cigar. He closed his eyes
and breathed deep as he passed the cigar under his nose. “This, lady
and gentlemen,” he explained, presenting the cigar for the others to
see. “Is the finest of Cuban cigars, rolled by the witches three on the
backs of Sabine virgins.” He reached into his pocket and produced a
gold-plated cigar cutter. Carefully, he removed the tip of the cigar,
retrieved a similarly gold-plated flip lighter and lit the cigar,
closing the lighter with a snap. “You see,” he said between thick puffs
of smoke. “The proper way to smoke and enjoy a thing of such fine
quality is to combine it with something of comparable quality.” Trae
picked up one of the shot glasses and dipped the unlit end of the cigar
into the Scotch, then once again began to puff at the cigar. Inhaling
deeply, he slammed back the shot of Scotch, then exhaled the thickly
sweet aroma through his nostrils, letting the liquid linger on his
tongue before swallowing. He offered the box to Sleed, who sniffed at
it with interest.
“It does smell quite intoxicating,” the Crogt agreed. He picked up one
of the large cigars awkwardly from the ornate wooden box with his three
long, gangly fingers. He passed the cigar beneath his nose just as Trae
had. His four, triangular pupiled eyes rolled back into his goblin-like
head. “This is delightfully decadent. Almost arousing,” he said, then
tasted the end of the cigar. “Oh my,” he gasped. “You said this is
called a cigar,” he asked slowly, careful to properly pronounce the
word. “What is it made of,” he asked curiously. Trae reached over with
the cutter and snipped the tip as Sleed picked up the lighter. He
flipped it open and proficiently struck the flint, lighting the cigar.
“It is made from the leaves of a plant called tobacco,” Trae continued,
“which is native to the American continents back on Earth.”
Sleed puffed at the cigar as Trae had done. “This is quite enjoyable.”
The Crogt eagerly grinned between puffs.
“Now dip it in the Scotch as I did and tell me what you think,” Trae
reminded.
The goblin-like alien did as instructed while the others eagerly
watched. He smiled a pleasantly surprised smile as he puffed on the
Scotch dipped cigar.
“It may make me wretch before we are done here,” Juuls admitted as she
fanned at the smoke which drifted across the table.
“We also have a number of other exotic items from the far reaches of
our home world you may wish to try,” Fergus reassured. He removed a
number of other bottles from the wagon’s compartments, placing them at
the center of the table. “Please, help yourselves to inspect or taste
these items as you each see fit to do so. We have a wide variety of
samples, baubles and collectable chachkies. Cold refreshing bottles of
Coke-a-cola, a global favorite for hundreds of years,” he said, popping
the tops of the icy cold bottles. “We also have a number of other
beverages, root beer, made from the bark of the Sassafras tree. Iced
tea and iced coffee, both of which have hot counterparts which are
consumed as equally as the cold variant,” he said, placing a number of
empty glasses onto the table. Fergus quickly added ice to each of them
and poured the coffee and tea into separate glasses.”
“I’ll take a Coke if you don’t mind,” Casraownan said as he quickly
snatched an open bottle from the table. His nose twitched as the bubbly
sweet liquid tickled his nose.
Skoocom picked up a bottle and chugged as Casraownan did, then exhaled
with a loud belch. “This is an interesting flavor and sensation,” the
Rohbondi laughed.
“Oh, did you guys bring any bubble gum,” Chico asked, getting up from
the couch and looking over the table.
“Yeah, here you go,” Fergus said. He ripped open a package and tossed a
piece to Chico.
“Bubble gum,” Juuls inquired, shaking her head from the lack of
understanding.
“You chew it,” Chico said. “It’s like, you chew it for the flavor or
you chew it to blow bubbles and occupy yourself. Here, watch,” he said
as he popped the piece into his mouth and began to chew, expertly
blowing a small bubble before popping it. “See, it can be something to
occupy yourself as well as taste good and give your breath a minty
fresh smell.”
“It already smells disgusting,” Sleed said. He frowned in disgust at
the small package as Chico opened it beside him.
“Let me try this bubble gum if you would please,” Juuls requested.
“Gladly,” Fergus replied, handing over the small wrapped morsel. “Now
be mindful, this brand has a liquid center which will burst open once
you begin to chew. So don’t be surprised when this happens.”
Juuls eagerly opened the soft candy and examined it before gently
placing it into her mouth. “Oh— this is quite wonderful and refreshing
already and I have yet to even chew! The effervescent tingling
sensation of it resting on my tongue alone is wonderful. The flavor
though, it reminds me of something familiar, but I cannot recall from
where.”
“Go ahead and bite down on it and see what you think,” Trae suggested.
The Sf’Rums’s eyes went wide as she bit down onto the soft candy. “Oh
my,” She gasped. A solemn tear escaped and ran down her cheek as she
slowly chewed. “This reminds me of when I was a very small child on my
home planet. Myself, my siblings and my cousins would spend a season on
my grandfather’s lands in the south of the Urwel forests. We spent many
hours playing in those forests, unsupervised. One of the most sought
after treats of those visits were the Prechworms that lived in fallen
logs. It was a small skill to find them. They did not like newly fallen
trees, nor did they like the old, desiccated husks. You had to quietly
find the right one, then quickly open its surface in order to catch the
grubs. They were sweet, refreshing and exploded flavor into your mouth
very much like this bubble gum.” Another tear escaped her puffy eyes.
“I have not thought of those memories in decades. I thank you very much
for this and will gladly place an order for this item.”
“We can get to the orders a little later,” Trae offered. “For now,
sample and enjoy the wares.” Trae dug into another of the compartments
of the wagon and produced a jar and three plastic spoons. “This is a
delicacy which began in the southern United States. It is made from a
root nut called a peanut. It can be smooth or crunchy, sweet or savory
and can easily be made to the required taste of your species.” He
opened the jar and spooned out a portion for each of the aliens at the
table. “Just remember to take a drink with it. We wouldn’t want you to
choke on a spoonful of peanut butter.”
Juuls put up a hand to the proffered spoon almost immediately. “I can
smell it from here already. I believe I should pass on this item,” she
said with a hard swallow of bile.
Skoocom made loud smacking sounds as he tried to clear the thick
condiment from his mouth. “It tastes, bland, I suppose,” he said,
questioningly.
“I agree with the fur ball,” Sleed said. “It is bland and
uninteresting.” Suddenly, his goblin-like ears perked up as all four
eyes locked onto something of interest. He perched slightly upon the
table as if ready to pounce. “What is that?” Sleed quietly hissed.
“What is what,” Fergus asked, looking around.
“That.” Sleed pointed toward the dirt filled cavity of the wagon where
Woody was planted.
“Hu. Well hell, Woody, I didn’t know you had worms,” Fergus said with a
chuckle. “You know they make medicine for that sort of thing.” With no
effort, Fergus retrieved the fat nightcrawler from the soil and held it
in his hand.
“The witches placed those creatures in my roots against my wishes,”
Woody complained. “They said these creatures would help to refresh the
soil and improve my overall health.”
Fergus held out the fat worm toward Sleed who watched it like a hungry
predator. “You were talking about this?”
“Yesss…,” the Crogt hissed.
Fergus looked at the worm, then back to Sleed. “Well here ya go. Give
it a try and tell me what you think.” He tossed the worm onto the table
in front of the Crogt.
Sleed tilted his head curiously from one side to the other, as a bird
examining its prey. He hovered as the large worm began to slink across
the table top in an attempt to escape, then with blinding speed, dove
and slurped up the morsel in one seamless motion.
“Well alrighty then,” Trae blurted.
“How many tons of these creatures can you supply,” Sleed demanded.
“Would you want them live or prepackaged,” Fergus countered.
“Live of course! Who in their right mind would want something as tasty
as this tainted by packaging? It must wriggle and writhe down into
one’s gullet to get the complete sensation.”
Fergus looked back to Trae with a questioningly glance.
“I will have to ask around to find out quantities, but it will take
some time,” Trae said.
Fergus turned back to Sleed, “It will take some time my friend. In the
meantime, how about taking a look at these other items of interest?”
Fergus placed a number of cheeses onto the table, proficiently cutting
into each block with a knife to make bite size pieces, then turned back
to the wagon and opened the last compartment. “The tea is grown and
processed by Chinese monks, who dedicate their lives to the art and
practice of patience and focus. The benefit of this is the beautifully
ornate work which they create during their time of focus where they
painstaking form and paint works such as these by hand. Each one a work
of art in their own right, but dedicated to the exact duplication of
the original.” Fergus placed an ornamental teapot, complete with fake
gold leaf gently on the table.
“This is truly something of elegance and beauty,” Juuls said.
Carefully, the Sf’Rums picked up the cheap flea market tea pot and
admired the deep blues and reds accented with fake gold leaf. “In what
quantity could you deliver goods of this quality and in what frequency?
I am almost certain to make a fortune throughout the Sf’Rums worlds
with goods such as this.”
“Generally, the item in your hand is used to brew a hot version of this
beverage,” Fergus explained, handing over a glass of iced tea to Juuls.
Juuls gently placed the teapot on the table and took the offered glass.
Her eyes widened at the slightest sip of the ice-cold beverage. “Oh my,
it is so bitter, yet so refreshing at the same time.” She gasped and
took another sip.
Following Juuls lead, Skoocom eagerly took up a glass of the iced tea
and quickly began to drink down the beverage, then just as quickly
spitting it back into his glass. “That is detestable!” Even through the
layers of brown fur across his face, Skoocom wore the wrinkling cringe
of disgust fully on his face.
“Not everything will be for everyone,” Trae commented. “Our differences
in genetic and chemical makeup are one factor, but above all else, our
personal tastes are an unfathomable factor which cannot be calculated.”
“As for quantity and delivery,” Fergus continued. “We have eight cases
of ceramics such as these in the hold of the ship, as well as a number
of cases of each of the different drinks and such.”
“And to each of you,” Trae added. “We will pass along, free of charge,
a case of each of the items which we have presented to you today in
token of friendship and sincerity of these trade negotiations; so you
may take them back to your people to better obtain a consensus of
demand.”
“That is very generous of you, human,” Juuls said, saluting with her
glass of sweet tea before gulping down the remainder and holding out
her glass. She clinked the ice in her glass for a refill.
“Almost too generous if you ask me,” Sleed said in an accusatory tone.
Ringlets of smoke drifted upward from the cigar which dangled out of
the side of his mouth as he reflexively puffed at it.
“It is the least we can do in hopes of opening dialogs of trade and
friendship among our peoples,” Trae said as straight faced as he could
before losing his composure to an explosive chuckle.
“I told you that you couldn’t drink your own kool-aid,” Fergus chidded.
“Yeah yeah, I just couldn’t hold it in any more,” Trae said.
“Drink your own kool-aid,” Skoocom looked at the humans, shaking his
head in confusion.
“It’s an old American saying which basically means you believe your own
bullshit,” Fergus said plainly.
“Bullshit?” Sleed starred curiously.
“It could take a little bit to explain,” Chico added.
“Can I please go back to the ship now,” interrupted Woody’s robotic
voice.
“Yeah, go on ahead,” Trae said. “Take Chico and Cass with you and
deliver the gifts to the ships of our friends here if you would please.”
Juuls suddenly stretched herself fully across the table, reaching for
the blocks of cheese Fergus had set out. “Why am I suddenly so hungry?”
She stuffed a large hunk of cheese into her cheek, barely chewing
before inserting another. “Oh my this is soooooo good…” she giddily
sang.
“Um, hey Trae,” Fergus said, suddenly worried.
“Yeah, I see,” Trae sighed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not good.”
“Ya think,” Fergus groused. “She’s freaking stoned, man.”
Juuls giggled uncontrollably, spitting half masticated pieces of cheese
across the table from where she lay.
“Just keep her on her side and don’t let her go to sleep,” Chico
advised as he hurriedly exited the room.
“Yeah,” Trae said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine in a few hours, or days
maybe.”
“Maybe we should get the folks sampling to sign waivers or something
next time,” Fergus suggested.
Trae turned to Fergus with a look of utter disbelief. “Really?”
“It sure can’t hurt,” Fergus said. “I mean, look at her. How were we to
know this would happen?” He turned and started for the door, then
turned back to the alien attendees at the table. “This concludes our
show and tell session for today. Please enjoy yourselves and rest
assured the free samples are being delivered as we speak. Feel free to
fill out a survey or to leave questions or comments with the waitress
before you leave. Again, I thank you for your time.” He half bowed then
quickly made his way to the door.
Trae turned back to the alien merchants and took a deep breath. “We
will return in one standard month. If you wish to place orders for any
of the supplied samples, we would be happy to take your orders at this
later date. We will also return with other goods to sample. Good day to
you lady and gentlemen,” Trae said with a bow, then hurriedly followed
Fergus out of the room. He sprinted ahead, easily catching up to Fergus
who trailed just behind the others, slowed by Woody’s progress into the
main room of the bar.
“I keep getting this nagging flash back of Goa, India and the time the
Colombian fruit we were hauling was more than just fruit,” Fergus
expressed.
“You’re just being paranoid, Ferg,” Trae reassured him. “Don’t worry,
we’ll get out of here and in a months’ time we’ll have a full cargo
hold that will turn us a small fortune. It’s a sure thing.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’re going to clean house with these
guys,” Fergus proudly stated.
Alarms erupted in a cacophony within the tight confines of the corridor
as fire suppression systems dispersed the waiting contents of their
pipes.
“This had nothing to do with us,” Trae shouted reassuringly toward
Fergus.
“Just go! Get back to the ship and we can sort it all out…,” Fergus’s
words were cut short as Juuls wrapped her naked form around Fergus.
“There is my handsome little human,” Juuls sang, then firmly planted a
long, open mouthed kiss on Fergus. She playfully slapped his face, then
drunkenly danced and skipped her way through the artificial rainfall
and over the hover wagon that blocked the path into the main room of
the bar.
“Okay, so maybe you’re right,” Trae admitted. “Maybe we should get
waivers signed before giving out samples.”
“Yup,” Fergus agreed, wiping water from his face. “Let’s just get back
to the ship.” Fergus slogged through the damp corridor into the bar. “I
need to brush my teeth. Who knew blue lizard lady would taste like
chicken?”
THE END
© 2019 by William Joseph Roberts
Bio: William Joseph Roberts...
My short story, “When
Vulcans Cry” was published earlier this year in
the Sha’Daa: Toys
anthology from Moon Dream Press/Copper Dog
Publishing.
In a previous lifetime, William Joseph Roberts was an
F-15 mechanic and Staff Sergeant in the United States Air Force. He has
traveled the world and experienced many things in his few years. During
his tenure in this lifetime, he has been called a Jack of all trades, a
Renaissance man and insane squirrel wrangler by his peers. Since his
enlistment ended, he has perused careers as an industrial and
architectural designer, design engineer, and now, eclectic writer.
William Joseph Roberts currently resides in the quaint southern town of
Chickamauga, Georgia with his loving wife, three freaky smart nerd
children, and small pack of fur babies.
My current web links are:
Webpage:
William Joseph Roberts--Insane squirrel wrangler, father, storyteller
Facebook author page:
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on Facebook
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on Twitter
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on Tumbler
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on Amazon
E-mail: William
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