Hi all and welcome to another exciting and thought provoking issue of this bi-weekly newsletter, The CORNERSTONE TRAVELER. Also available online at cornerstonetraveler.com

mid-Hudson Valley news: Well it is another frigid, cold snap in the Hudson Valley and throughout New York. It’s not a polar vortex, just damn cold. Since last Thursday we have had more snow than the active winter season combined. I know the ski resorts are happy with the snow as well as the skiers. ( which I used to be one until I crashed my Harley and suffered a twisted spine.) The cold never bothered me too much before the accident, now I hate it. Is it the injuries from the accident or just old age? Either way I still don’t like the cold.
With the recent snow, the fields around the mid-Hudson Valley are pristine with the fallen snow except for the snow mobile tracks that mar this pristine beauty. There are even snow mobile tracks on the ice covered Wallkill River.
Central Hudson did another good job of trimming the limbs of trees that could disrupt electrical energy to their customers as there has been little or no disruption of electricity to the users in the mid-Hudson Valley.

observations: I have noticed that there are some people who are criticizing the movie American Sniper.
Then there are the conservative radio and T.V. blowhards who are criticizing the people who are criticizing the movie.
I have to wonder what the reaction of these blowhards would be if the Taliban and/or ISIS made a video o their militants killing American men and women by either rifles or IED’s? I know O’Reilley would be the loudest because if a Muslim kills/murders someone, he is all over it. I think because he is a closet racist and/or xenophobe.
I personally have no intention or desire to see American Sniper. Movies like that just don’t interest me. I know if I was an apologist for the Taliban or ISIS (which I am not) I would rant and rave against the movie. I read that the man who wrote the story of the American Sniper lives in Warwick NY. Not more than forty-I’ve minutes from New Paltz. I know when he described this man (I can’t recall his name), I was impressed with the attitude of the man. He was a SEAL combatant. I read where he had a difficult time choosing between SEAL/Country and wife and family.
I know I could never do what he did as a sniper , not only because I would be a lousy shot, but also because I can’t kill people. One reason when I was called up or my pre-certification physical for Vietnam, I decided I would be a field medic. I just can’t kill people. I don’t think I could have killed Hitler. I would have rather seen that the fascist spend the rest of his life in one of the concentration camps he established for Jews, Gypsies and others. Death would have been too easy out or him.
That’s it for my observations of American Sniper. I hope you understand my thinking.

sports: The Super Bowl this past Sunday was probably the most exciting Super Bowl in history. Though the commercials left much to be desired. You would think that paying $4.5 million per thirty second shot the commercials would be something you would remember. Does anyone remember any of the commercials?
NHL: The Islanders are still in first place of the Metro Division of the Eastern Conference. The Rangers have pts. and are pts. Behind
Both the Knicks and Nets are struggling in the middles of the Atlantic Division of the Eastern Conference of the NBA with records of: Nets – and games back. Knicks: – and games back.

other: As with all previous issues of this newsletter, everything written here is either copyright protected or copyright pending.
The history o P&G’s follows this newsletter from when the building was first constructed in 1900 to about the mid 1930’s.
Following this history is a short story I just finished called ETHAN. I hope you like it.

Thank-you – Rik McGuire

The History of P&G’s from the Beginning

Travel back more than a century to the spring of 1900 as builder John H. Hasbrouck and his men construct a 50′ by 28′ building on the site of the current P&G’s Restaurant. Look around and begin to imagine.
The first floor features a fountain with water softly falling into a cobblestone basin. The exotic effect is enhanced with darting goldfish and blooming water lilies. Palms set liberally throughout the room, provide an air of privacy for those seated at the groups of small tables. Patrons, dressed in their finest, sit chatting, sometimes courting and enjoying the establishments fine refreshments.
The upper story is a promenade, opened to a full view of sunset over the Shawangunk Mountains. Live music gently eases you from afternoon into evening. Welcome to the ambiance and hospitality of the Casino.
The Casino’s owner, Mr Steen, had correctly envisioned the areas many tourists, summer boarders and trolley passengers stopping to enjoy the unique features of his establishment. The terminal station for the trolley line from Highland is located just across Main Street. It is said that Steen patterned the Casino after the famous Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs.
On June 1, 1900 the Casino was officially opened. That evening “a large number of people enjoyed the ice cream, music and the lovely mountains views.” according to the New Paltz Independent newspaper. Music was provided by a band which included a piano and several other instruments. The Casino soon became famous for Saturday night dances held on the second floor of the open pavilion. It was decorated with flowers and vines suspended from the rafters. The crowds were so large that special late trolley cars were run to accommodate the guests and take the orchestra back to Poughkeepsie.
The electric power shut down at midnight. According to Independent writer Delia Shaw “…the time of closing and the departure of the last trolley (run by electricity) had to be reckoned with, but as was often the case, several folks ‘Missed the Last Trolley’… seems between intermissions the fellows would walk their girls down the street where numerous straw thatched summer houses were located on the banks of the Wallkill River and they were so preoccupied with making love by the light of the silvery moon that they forgot everything.” Shaw continued. “Saturday Nights In New Paltz Became A Legend! There was not a single hitching post available, nor an inch of space under any of the sheds of the five local hotels. The Casino drew people from surrounding towns and they came via hay loads and 4 seated carriages, while some men even walked and carried their dancing shoes. ‘Little Larry,’ the shoeshine fellow, did a landslide business on Sat. Nights! As did all the merchants and the stores open ‘til 9 p.m.”
By 1921 the Casino had changed hands and names, becoming the Blue Crane Inn. Ads of the era read.
The big Night at the Blue Crane Inn
Dancing Every Wednesday and Saturday Evening
In the Chinese Hall-Good Jazzy Music.

The cornerstone of nightlife in New Paltz continued to thrive.
In 1925, after 28 Years of service, the Highland to New Paltz trolley company folded. The demise of the trolley business and the affordability of the automobile meant peoples outings were no longer confined to the trolley’s narrow corridor. They could drive to any village hotel, restaurant, or scenic spot that caught their fancy. Indeed, New Paltz and the Blue Crane Inn lost their captive audience. The Inn, however, continued to accommodate people well into the 1930’s. Other establishments came and went until 1947 when it became Pat and Georges and ultimately was nicknamed the P&G’s that welcomes everybody.

ETHAN

The man sitting at the bar drained the last of his drink, pushed it forward on the bar to indicate he wanted another then went back to reading his book. The wait wasn’t long when the pretty, young woman behind the bar took his glass and asked. “Another?”
The man just nodded. “Jameson. Neat.”
She picked up a green bottle from behind the bar and filled his glass to the brim. This was unusual because she usually filled the glass to between half or three quarters , but the man seemed to her to be nice and cordial, as he didn’t make any snide or crude comments of her beauty.
When she finished pouring his shot, all Ethan could say was. “Thanks.” He slid seven dollars in her direction and said “Keep it.”
Sally could only smile a thank-you at the dollar tip he gave her.
Ethan went back to reading the paperback book he had bought earlier that day.
Sally couldn’t help, but stare at him because he was wearing army fatigues. What she didn’t realize was the fatigues that Ethan was wearing were desert, chocolate chip, fatigues because he had recently been discharged from the Army after spending three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Ethan absently sipped his drink as he read his book with intense interest. As he read, three tattooed bikers charged into the bar. Ethan only looked up when they entered then went back to reading The Lord of the Rings.
The three tattooed bikers sat on either side of him and behind him, ordering shots and beer chasers. One heavily tattooed arm slapped his hand on Cliffs shoulder. “Watcha reading there, boy?” He asked.
Ethan lifted his book and showed him the cover page.
“Fellowship of the Ring? This the first time you read it and didn’t you at least see the movie?” Tattoo asked.
Ethan nodded. “I read it in High School and decided I wanted to read it again.”
Tattoo noticed Cliffs army desert fatigues and asked. “In the army?”
Ethan smiled. “Discharged last month.”
“Afghanistan?” Tattoo pressed further.
“Yep. Iraq and Afghanistan.”
“Kill a lot of towel heads?”
Ethan shook his head. “No. I was a P.J.”
“What the hell is a P.J.?”
“Pararescue Jumper.” Ethan explained. “P.J.’s parachuted from aircraft to give medical services to our military. Kinda like the field medics in Vietnam.”
“So. You didn’t shoot and kill towel heads?” Tattoo asked.
Ethan could only laugh. “You realize, of course, that Jesus was a towel head?”
“How so?”
“The men at the time of Jesus and up to the present wore wrappings around their heads to keep the suns rays from beating on their heads during the day and at night to keep their heads warm. It can get pretty cool in the mid-east at night.” Ethan explained.
“You here for bike week in Lake George?” Tattoo asked.
Ethan shook his head. “Not really. There is going to be a free clinic in Loudonville this weekend. And I thought with my medical experience in Iraq and Afghanistan, I could be of help. I just wanted to check out bike week before I went to that free clinic.”
“You ride?”
“Yes. I have an FLRT trike and I pull a small pop-up tent trailer behind. The camp ground is just about a half mile from here.”
“I didn’t see a trike outside.”
Ethan smiled. “I walked. It only takes about fifteen minutes and it is safer
than riding after two or three drinks.”
“So. You walked the half mile? I see a cane. You need a cane to walk?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah. I took a shot from an AK-47 in my right thigh.”
“You got shot?” Tattoo asked.
Ethan could only nod as he remembered that day so long ago, but it was only four months ago.

Four months earlier

Ethan and the other P.J. team did a HiLo jump from a transport jet at 12,000 feet. They jumped high, but only used their parachutes at less than 1,000 feet to give enemy shooters less time to take aim and shoot.
Everyone on the P.J. team knew it was fierce fire fight with the Americans backed into a mountain corner. The American fighters were hoping for air support so they could get their collective asses out of the corner. The P.J.’s were needed for the wounded Americans as their medic had been shot and killed.
The American jets strafed the strong Taliban position. The Taliban knew they had to retreat and used their last offensive maneuver. They used a little boy, strapped with remotely detonated explosives on his body.
The boy knew he was going to die killing the Americans that the Taliban taught him to hate. He had his hands up, shaking. Walking towards the American position he shook with each step because he knew he was going to die.
Cliff’s angel who had been with him since he was just a baby, pointed to the remote triggering antenna on the boys back. You may have to sprint to the boy before he gets here and disarm the antenna so the Taliban cannot trigger the explosives on the boy.
“I’ll do it.” Ethan said.
It’s very dangerous and you could die.
“If I don’t. We all die as well as that young boy.” Ethan told his guardian angel.
True. The angel whispered. But are you willing to risk it?
“I have to.” Ethan thought. “That is what you taught me my entire life since I first realized you existed when I was a child of about six or seven.”
Okay. Do it. But remember I cannot protect you.
“That’s a given. But I must if not just to protect my people, but also that poor child.”
Ethan remembered he was able to sprint to the child and rip off the antenna from the child’s back before the Taliban could detonate the explosive charge wrapped around the boys body. But he took a 7.62 mm. slug from an AK-47 in his thigh. The slug entered his thigh with a small hole, but left through the back of his leg tearing muscle , tendon and skin. Ethan was lucky the slug didn’t hit bone.
Ethan spent a couple of weeks in a military hospital in Afghanistan then flown to Berlin, Germany for another four weeks of recuperation and finally to Walter Reed in Washington where he was given an honorable discharge along with a Purple Heart and a second Bronze Star.
With his three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, Ethan had all his military pay electronically deposited into his military bank account. He didn’t have much use for his military pay while in Iraq or Afghanistan as there was little to spend it on. So he was able to accumulate a lot of money that he could access through ATM’s throughout the country.
He got a good deal on a Harley FLRT because he paid in hard cash. The trike normally cost over twenty-six thousand dollars, but because he paid cash and was a war vet, he was able to widdle the price down to less than twenty thousand. He found the pop-up tent trailer on e-bay and again he saw good savings.
With the FLRT and trailer he was intent on traveling throughout the country and maybe into Canada or even Mexico with the intention of volunteering at free clinics. He picked up extra cash while motoring around the country by working at small farms.
It was while surfing the web, he learned where free clinics were being held throughout the country. When he called or e-mailed the sponsors of the free clinics, detailing his experience in Iraq and Afghanistan as a P.J. field medic, they were more than happy to have him assist at the free clinic.

“Where are you from?” Tattoo asked.
“America.” Ethan responded.
“Where in America?” Tattoo pressed.
“Everywhere.” Was the only answer Ethan would give.
“Everywhere?” Tattoo pressed. “What do you mean everywhere?”
Ethan smiled and looked at Tattoo. “I go to every free clinic throughout America and lend my expertise as a field medic from war.”
“But where were you born? And where did you graduate from high school?” Tattoo wanted to know.
“As Toby Keith sang in his song. I was made in America. And that is all you need to know” Ethan smiled.
“Why?” Tattoo asked.
“Because I was an American soldier. That should be enough for you to know.”
Ethan finished his drink and limped with his cane to his popup at the campground.
When he got to his camp site, he made certain that the Melitta coffee urn had a paper filter and coffee in it so he could have a ready, steaming cup of coffee in the morning.
He climbed into his small popup, laid down on the small bed, turned on the electric light and read more of his book, The Fellowship of the Ring. Thirty minutes later the book dropped to the floor when he fell asleep. At six the next morning, he woke. He quickly dressed and went to the campground restrooms for his regular morning absolutions.
When he got back to his popup, the water he had set on the Coleman stove was boiling and he poured the water through the Mellita coffee filter for his first cup of coffee of the day.
He was all prepared for giving assistance to the health service at the Siena College Athletic building where the free medical clinic was being held.
He knew Siena well, as he had spent the first and his only two years in college there. It was after his sophomore year he decided to enlist into the Army and get medical training as a medic. He hoped to use this field medical training as a precursor to becoming a physicians assistant. Ethan hated war and could never kill. His angel had that much influence on him.
He could’ve gone back to school to learn being a physicians assistant with the G.I. bill, but he itched to help people and drive his Harley, so he just drove his trike around the country lending a hand at free clinics.
He mounted his trike when he was certain that his campsite was well kept and drove the one hour drive down the Northway to Siena College.
When he got there and introduced himself to the medical staff, he was warmly accepted. It was a tiring and stressful ten hours at the free clinic. He saw single mothers bringing their children in not only for typical childhood vaccinations, but also for breaks and bruises to their tiny bodies.
When the clinic finally folded up at eight that evening, a treating doctor asked. “When will we see you again? You were very helpful at the clinic.”
Ethan shrugged. “I will be at the next free clinic I find on the web.”
“Where will that be?” The treating doctor asked.
“No clue. I just search the web for free clinics.”
“Well. I wish you luck and I hope we can work together again.” The doctor said as Ethan mounted his trike.
“Count on it.” Ethan said before his trike roared to life.
As he leisurely drove his trike up the Northway to the Lake George camp ground, his guardian angel whispered in his ear. You did very well at that free clinic.
Ethan nodded his helmeted head. “What more could I have done?”
Nothing. The angel whispered.
When Ethan got back to the campsite in Lake George, he immediately plugged in his laptop computer into his popup tent trailer electric socket and booted it up. After a few minutes he searched and found another free clinic in Buffalo, a good five hour trip on his trike. But he was ready and even eager.
The next morning he quickly dropped his small popup tent trailer after he packed up all his camping necessities into the trailer. He mounted the trailer to his trike, drove to campground office and made payment of his short time at the campground.
He drove down the Northway to get to the New York Thruway (I-90) west. Before he started west on I-90 he filled his trike tank. As he was driving west on I-90 he came upon a young woman waving frantically beside a car on the shoulder. He immediately pulled his trike and popup to just before her car.
After he got off his trike and took off his helmet, he limped over to the young woman with his cane and asked. “Do you need help?”
The young woman, 5’4″, not more than twenty-five, cried. “My father is slumped over in his seat. I don’t think he is breathing.”
Ethan went immediately to the passenger side of the automobile, pressed his fingers against the left side of the old mans neck. He felt no pulse and he limped with his cane to his trike where he had what he called his emergency jump bag. This jump bag had what he needed in emergency medical situations. He grabbed it and told the young woman he had to get her father out of the car and onto the ground where he could do CPR. He asked her if she had a cell phone.
“No.” She cried.
Ethan pulled his cell phone from his belt and told her to dial 911. “Make sure you tell them that the responding ambulance must have an AED.”
“What’s an AED?” She asked.
“Automatic External Defibulator. I can only do so much with CPR.”
As she called 911, Ethan did chest compressions on the old mans chest. After the young woman called 911 she came back and asked. “What can I do?”
Ethan gave her a BVM (Bag Valve Mask) and showed her how to push air into her father after he did thirty chest compressions. The cycle repeated several times before her father coughed and started to breathe on his own.
“He’s back.” Ethan said. “But we need the ambulance and their AED.”
The ambulance arrived not five minutes later with the paramedics pulling a stretcher from the back of the ambulance rig. The EMT”s asked how the old man was doing.
“He’s breathing, almost normally, but he is stressful. So keep a watchful eye on him. You may have to use your AED.” Ethan stressed.
The young woman came to Cliff, wrapped her arms around his neck and cried. “Thank-you for saving my fathers life.”
Ethan could only smile. “That’s why I am here.”
“I am so glad you are.” She cried.
Ethan remounted his trike and pulled back onto I-90, intent on getting to Buffalo for the free clinic.
He drove the five hour drive, stopping only once at a Thruway Service area
to get some food and fill up the tank of his trike.
He got to a campsite, just outside of Buffalo. After he setup his pop-up trailer, he drove his trike the following morning to the free clinic where he was met enthusiastically by many of the free clinic doctors and nurses when he explained his experience as a medic in Iraq and Afghanistan.
At the free clinic, he did whatever was asked of him. He mostly treated young children who were abused by the boyfriends of their mothers. After treating a dozen or so of these children, he became disgusted with the grown men who abused the children enough that the small tiny children needed medical attention. “I would love to meet one of these assholes in a dark alley.” He murmured to himself.
But you cannot and will not kill them. His angel insisted.
Ethan nodded. “No. But I will make them sorry for abusing tiny, helpless children. And I can guarantee they will wish they were in prison instead of meeting with me.”
You just do what must be done to help these children. The angel instructed.
“That’s what I’m doing.” Ethan said as he treated a small boy with a spiral break in his arm. As he was treating the boy, a police officer brought a husky 6’4″ man into the treating room and asked the boy. “Is this the man who hurt you?”
The boy sniffed. “Yes.”
The man roared. “You only got what you deserved when you complained that you were still hungry and wanted more.”
The boy turned to Cliff. “He only gave me a cucumber and some pretzels.”
“That’s all you deserved. You took my sandwich that I was saving for later.”
“Because I was hungry.” The little boy cried.
“You took what I wanted to eat. You little bastard.” The man yelled.
Ethan couldn’t take anymore and rose from his seat where he was treating the little boy. “You twisted his tiny arm enough that you broke it because he took your sandwich. You miserable shithead? I hope to find you in some dark alley where I will show you real pain.”
As he talked to the bully, he saw a dark light above the man and Ethan knew that the man was influenced and dominated by the devil or demons.
His guardian angel had taught him how to see the demonic dark lights over those who were controlled and dominated by the demons from hell. He saw the dark lights of demonic influence everywhere he went. And many in the most unobtrusive places. Like when he rode his trike down Wall Street in New York City. He saw the dark demonic lights almost everywhere. He knew that the people under these dark demonic lights had placed money over God and were thus the faces of the so called anti-Christ.
Before he left the free clinic the officers asked if he was willing to testify of what he had learned of the boys injuries in court. He said he was, but didn’t want to wait the many months for his testimony at trial. He gave the officers his cell phone number and told them to call a few weeks before trial if they needed him to testify. He explained that his testimony would most likely be moot because he was not a trained doctor.
“We will contact you if we think your testimony is needed.” One officer said.

Dark Lighters

“We have a serious problem with a man who is guarded by an Angel.”
Norman, the Dark Lighter horde leader told his Dark Lighter associates.
“What is the problem and who is the man we should be watchful over?” One of the horde members asked.
“His name is Ethan Pearson and we have to be watchful over him because he can see the dark lights that shine on us all.” Norman said.
“Where is he?” Another of the horde asked.
“Everywhere.” Norman said and added. “He travels throughout the country on his Harley trike, lending a hand at free clinics. And he has to be stopped. The sooner, the better.”
“Can’t he just have a bad accident on the road as he rides his trike?” Another of the horde asked.
Norman shook his head. “No. Because he so well protected by his damn angel. We have to find a way around this damn angel.”
“Is there a way?” The assembled horde asked.
Norman shook his head. “I don’t know. I may have to consult with those below and maybe they can be of help.”
After the meeting of the horde concluded, Norman retreated to his room to maybe consult with the demons who wanted to control the earths population.
The demons knew after thousands of years that many of the people of earth were dominated by wealth and greed. And it was through this greed that the demons of hell knew that they could have control of the people of earth and dominate them.

When Ethan wasn’t volunteering at free medical clinics, he spent much of his time writing as a free lance columnist. He was able to get his columns published in many of the country’s newspapers because he was a veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan. He wrote as a veteran of Iraq and how he saw no need for war with Iraq, as there had been no weapons of mass destruction found in Iraq. The war in Iraq cost 4,486 American lives which he thought was too costly. Naturally his columns were condemned by the lunatic right radio as leftist garbage. But he knew the lunatic right wing radio hosts could not be bothered to serve in the armed services of the American military, as that was beneath them.
Ethan could only laugh at these right wing lunatic assholes who criticized his columns , knowing that they would never put themselves in harms way for American goals.
“Who are these right wing lunatics?” Ethan asked himself.
Ethan was able to add to his military bank account from his free lance columns as it was regular he was published in many of the country’s newspapers and magazines.
Writing his free lance columns was what he did when between free clinics. And he enjoyed the writing tremendously.
He thought he was lucky that he could write his free lance columns on his word processor and print them out on his small computer printer that he carried in his popup trailer. Or email his columns to the appropriate newspapers or magazines.
Ethan thought to write a short story or maybe even a novel about military life in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
He thought he would stress the debilitating injuries that left many missing one or more limbs or suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury). Ethan didn’t think the American public actually knew or understood the cost of these debilitating injuries to the human body.
He thought that the only way he could get his thoughts of these injuries of he American military personnel was through a well written short story or novel.
Little did he know, was that the Dark Lighters would use every ounce of their being that he would never get his story published, short story or novel. They had that much influence in the written media.
Norman learned from the demons below that Ethan could not be protected by his guardian angel, just as Norman and his Dark light associates could not be protected by the demons.
Norman knew that with his ten Dark Light associates, they could coral this Ethan Pearson and beat him unmercifully, most likely to death. If they could only get him in a secluded spot with no witnesses. That was the plan he presented to his Dark Light horde associates. And as it turned out, Ethan rode his trike right into their clutches in a small town in Mississippi where there was a free clinic.
Ethan naturally found a campsite in that small town within easy walking distance to the town center.
Norman thought this to be ideal, as he knew of one place on the outskirts of the town that was almost deserted and all he had to do was get Ethan to that part of the town where his associates would lie in wait.
It was a perfect plan or so he thought.
Ethan rode his trike with small popup trailer to a campsite just outside of the town. Within an hour he had everything setup as he wanted. Then he limped with his cane to the nearest watering hole, bar.
He sat down with another book he picked up by Nelson Demille and ordered a Jameson, neat.
As he read, a few leather clothed bikers came into the bar. They all wore colors. In other words they were part of a biker gang. The colors of the HOG’s were bright green with a golden harp with a white horse on the back. They were called the Merry Men and quite naturally the leader of the Merry Men was Robin. The others were Will Scarlet, Little John (because he was 6’6”/ 260 pounds.) And naturally Friar Tuck and dJack, an Arab from Jordan.
They noticed Ethan almost immediately in his army fatigues and were curious about him. They came over and started a conversation with Ethan because though they wore colors of a Harley Owners Group (HOG), many were veterans of countless wars, going back to Vietnam.
They got along famously when they learned of Cliff’s injury in Afghanistan.
When Ethan decided he had enough to drink and only wanted to limp to his campsite. The leader of the HOG’s decided that Ethan had to be watched over because Ethan was like them, a war veteran. And also because he saw several nasty looking men rise from their seats and follow Cliff.
Ethan limped about ten minutes when he had to walk through a deserted street of the town. He was immediately met by ten members of the Dark Lighter horde who were intent on beating him to death.
Robin and the other members of the Merry men, concerned that Ethan was walking alone to his campsite, decided that they had to follow and keep him from harm because like them he was a veteran and war vets protected each other.
They were maybe a minute behind Ethan when they saw him limp into a deserted, dark alley. They were all surprised when Norman and his Dark Light horde confront Cliff. It was evident to Robin and the Merry Men that the bunch of cowards who confronted Ethan were intent on doing him bodily harm because each of them were armed with either a black jack, a club or brass knuckles. They all knew that Ethan was in deep trouble where he would be seriously injured and maybe even die.
Ethan saw the Dark Lighters as they surrounded him and he knew he was in deep trouble, serious pain and maybe death.
The Dark Lighter horde surrounded him, banging their black jacks, clubs and brass knuckles against their palms. Ethan was prepared to die because he knew his angel could not protect him.
Robin and his HOG’s came up silently behind the Dark Lighter horde and were prepared to trash them.
Robin tapped who he knew to be the leader, Norman, on the shoulder. “If you do anything to our friend and war vet, you will pay seriously.”
“Who the hell are you?” Norman asked.
“War vets and friends of Ethan and his protectors. Are you willing to deal with us?” Robin asked.
“There is ten of us and only five of you.” Norman pointed out. “Do you really think you can defeat us?”
Little John pushed forward of Robin and sneered. “You might be surprised.”
Norman naturally shrank back, hoping one of the horde would protect him from the behemoth before him. But Little John swung a huge, massive fist into his face and it was lights out immediately for Norman.
The others in the dark Light horde were unsure what they should do with their leader down. They just backed away with their hands up, not wanting a confrontation with the Merry Men.
After the remaining Dark Lighter horde shrank back, Norman started to moan as he laid on the pavement.
Robin was prepared to do more harm to the asshole when Ethan held up his hand and said. “I’ll take care of him.”
“How?” Robin asked.
Ethan pulled a pistol from his ankle and showed it to all of them.
“You’re going to shoot him? Robin asked.
Ethan shook his head. “No. Of course not. It is only loaded with blanks. But the powder from the blanks is extremely hot when the pistol is fired.”
“So?” Robin said.
Ethan knelt down and placed the pistol barrel to just below Norman’s ass before he could roll over. “Watch.”
“I try to do good for the people of earth. You on the other hand are evil and only follow the devils commands. Now I will show you how your blindless obedience to the devil will hurt you.” After he said what he had to say he pulled the trigger of the pistol. A loud report was heard by everyone and then Norman screamed in pain after he felt the hot smoke from the gun almost sear his testicles.
He tried to reach down and feel if they were still there, but Ethan knelt on his back. “Not yet, shit head.” He pulled the trigger a second time. After the loud bang faded, Ethan allowed Norman to stand and massage what he thought was blasted away. Norman was surprised when his hand showed no blood
Ethanol smiled. “Remember what awaits you if you screw with me again.”
Norman could only raise his hands in surrender and back away from Ethan and the Merry Men.
After Norman limped away from the dark alley, Robin said. “You need us to protect you and you to protect us.”
Ethan shook his head. “You don’t know who I just confronted. They are evil and protected by evil.”
Robin nodded. “I know. But you need the protection we can give and besides you are the newest member of the Merry Men.
Ethan was taken aside by the whisper of his guardian angel.
I think I should show my existence to your new found friends. The angel whispered.
“I don’t think they will be able to comprehend what they see when you reveal yourself to them.” Ethan said. He knew what Robin and his Merry Men would see. Just a formless, brilliant light. Ethan had seen his angel more than a
few times in their thirty plus years and he only saw a beautiful, bright light when his angel exposed the angels essence.
They don’t have to understand what they see, only that I exist. The angel whispered back.
“Okay.” Ethan said. “Do it.”
Ethan came face to face with Robin and the Merry Men. “You are about to see the angel who guides and protects me.” He explained.
“A real angel?” Robin asked.
“Yep. A real angel.” Ethan replied.
“What’s his or her name?”
“Angels don’t need names. They just are. That’s all you need to know.” Ethan explained almost professorley.
“Male or female?”
“Neither. Angles don’t need to be gender specific. They just are.” Ethan explained.
Just then a beautiful, brilliant, bright light appeared before all the Merry Men. All they could do is step back and gasp at the beauty shown to them.
The angels essence was there for only a few minutes when the angel whispered inside their heads. Now you see who guides Ethan as he tries to protect the world from the devil and it’s demons.
All the Merry Men bowed their heads in acceptance of the angels presence. But when they looked up the brilliant, bright and beautiful light had disappeared. All the Merry Men were awe struck by what they had just seen.
Robin came forward to Ethan, struck out his hand to shake Ethan’s hand. “I can see you have some supernatural protection. More protection than we could ever provide.”
Ethan shook Robin’s hand and the hands of the four other Merry Men . “The angles of God are all around us if we only want to believe. But unfortunately the demons of Hell are here also to dominate mankind
That was how Ethan decided to leave it when he limped away from the stunned Merry Men.

9:38 p.m.
11/12/14
@P&G’s