The Final Paragraph From My Other Recently Completed Novel “Mars Outpost Alpha”

Commander Henslaugh looked through the portal window, gazing out at the rust-colored expanse. The ruins of the Fleklar’s alien mother ship still lay smoking among the rest of Henslaugh’s crew. Henslaugh couldn’t help but wonder to himself, had he stayed on Moon Outpost Zeta, never applied for a promotion and been satisfied with the quiet life of a terraforming coordinator — might things have turned out differently? Would the onslaught of alien ships have ever found their outpost here on Mars? Henslaugh turned away from the portal (and the wreckage) and sat down on his cot, in the corner of the two-hundred square foot pod — the only pod still being supplied with oxygen. It was anyone’s guess which would come first — his death or his rescue? Henslaugh wiped the morbid thought from his mind. There were better things to do. Like play Dance Dance Revolution: Universe Edition 2.0. And with that, Henslaugh turned on the game console, booted up the game, and laid out the elaborate touch pad floor throw. And as the hip hop beats of Kalooloo’s “Century 29” began playing, Henslaugh got to dancing. Despite the lack of oxygen. Because for Henslaugh…dancing was his life. Next to terraforming. And coordinating. And defeating evil aliens. Yes… Dancing was his life.

The Final Paragraph From My Recently Completed Novel “Ben Bovak, Street Cleaner”

When the sun rose the next morning, its golden rays of baptism shone down upon the sleepy little city of Shreveport, confirming what Ben had said all along. That any city, despite its size, geographic location or annual tourism could be completely swept clean from dusk till dawn. It was at the corner of 5th and Mason where Ben sat atop his street sweeper with Princess Yajim, surveying his handiwork from the night before. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” Ben proclaimed, proudly puffing his chest out so that the Princess would see. “Yes,” she replied, “and you are God’s right-hand man-boy servant.” It was then that the two shared a look. A look of love that had been developing since the two met in Cairo, when Ben had swept clean the streets despite being pursued by the evil Gorgon. But that was in the past now. Back in the present, Ben leaned into Princess Yajim as the rays of sun began to sparkle and shine against the now-clean gutters of Shreveport… “I prefer handy-man servant,” he smiled. “It doesn’t sound so vulgar.” Princess Yajim looked at him and stifled a laugh. “Yes,” she agreed. “It’s not vulgar at all.”