Had an idea...

Let me run an idea by you artsy types.

I had an idea the other day. I sort of want to put some quikrete in a bucket, and then put a sword in the quikrete and then break the bucket away when it dries and use it at a lawn ornament. We'd probably be talking about a child's sand bucket sort of thing, turned upside down so we'd have a cone and then the sword inserted through a slit that I'd cut into the bottom of the bucket. There would likely be some more work on the idea after, but that's my basic idea.

For the sword, well, real leather and wood is more or less out. I want this for an outside decoration after all and I know what the elements could do. We'd be talking a very cheap, non-sharp, non-valuable, almost non-sword for the main part of my idea. Something like this, or this or even this thing. My main idea is that it should be cheap, that it shouldn't be too susceptible to the elements (any more so than necessary anyway) and that people who bump into it shouldn't get cut. I really want a blunt sword like object that won’t hurt anyone. I suppose for added security I should drill a hole trough the blade and put a bolt or something through it, just to make sure. Any other thoughts or ideas? Maybe I should buy a little half sized sword like this or this and make an experiment first?

Just an idea I've got in my head at the moment.

You know why America sucks?

We don't really have any proper dolmens in America, and thus you almost never find a korrigan hanging around here.

I shall have to content myself with the company of the morgen in our pond I suppose. Wish we had a nyx or a selkie, since they just use their tits instead of buildings and gardens. They also don't flood the place out, but Breton blood will call, won't it?

Bad Movie is BAD (a poem)

Hercules and the Captive Women is bad.
I mean really bad
Like 'it almost broke me' bad
But I have the power of Stan Bush
I have survived.
Seriously kids
DO NOT try this at home
I've got years of practice
and a serious case of insanity to keep me safe.

Liberty's Child (Day Nineteen)

Liberty’s Child

A Jack Collier Mystery

By Brett N. Lashuay

Look here for last week’s entry!

 

Day Nineteen: Piggy’s End

 

            The entry to Piggy’s place was much different this time. I knocked on the door gently and waited for Piggy to come. He opened the door and looked at me nervously, fear leaping across his face. Had he not been the timid type deep down, I think he would have slammed the door and run for it.

 

            “Calm down Piggy,” I said holding out a hand. “I’m not gonna hit you this time.”

 

            “Promise?” he asked.

 

            “Yeah,” I nodded and tried to smile a reassuring smile, “I promise.”

 

            “Okay,” he stepped back and opened the door wide enough for us to enter.

 

            Alice and I walked in, and let him close the door behind us. I went into the living room, which was less than ten steps from the door, and looked around for anything I might be able to sit on. I didn’t see anything that I really wanted to try and deposit my end on so I let Alice and Piggy enter behind me and just stood. I looked at the photo he had said was of his mother and reached for it. I took it from the shelf and walked up to him tapping the glass.

 

            “This is your mother right?”

 

            “That’s right,” he nodded and took the picture from me.

 

            “She was called The Duchess in her professional circles, did you know that?”

 

            “I know who my mother was and what she did,” he bristled slightly at the way I was talking.

 

            “And do you know it was her assistant Amy Cooke that killed her?” I asked.

 

            His tongue worked around his mouth, pushing his cheeks and then the area around his lips out at odd angles. He then set the picture frame down and rubbed his chin for a second, I think because he could cover his mouth when he did. His head made a motion that could be construed as a nod. It might have been him agreeing with me, or just agreeing with something inside his own head.

 

            “Okay,” he eventually said.

 

            “And are you further aware that after doing that Amy Cooke went under ground for a while, later re-emerging as Amy Heart?” I asked and then held my hand out to Alice, as if I were presenting my partner in a magic act.

 

            “I’ve got her full dossier here,” she said handing over her phone.

 

            He went through it fairly quickly, which I decided meant he was just skimming the thing. He didn’t really need to have a full read anyway, just enough to tell him that we were telling the truth. He rubbed his eyes free of what might have been tears and handed the phone back to Alice who stuffed it into her pocket. He looked at me, and I could see that he was really having trouble controlling himself.

 

            “What do you want?” he asked after nearly an hour of looking at me.

 

            “I want to get Columbia home to her parents,” I said. “Her mother and sister and worried about her. I’m sure if his head wasn’t so far up his ass that he can see out of his own nostrils her father would be concerned as well. Do you know where she is?”

 

            There were tears running down his cheeks, he bit his lip so hard that there was blood dripping down his chin. He nodded when he looked at me and a sound escaped him. It was half sigh, half sob         as it came out. He touched his chin and when he brought away his hand, he noticed the blood. He sort of jumped a little when he noticed the red stain on his thumb and wiped at his lip.

 

            “I’ve gotta go wash my face,” he said looking at his hand. “I’ll take you to where she is. I mean it’s not like she’s being held or nothing. She’s just hanging out. I gotta take a wiz.”

 

            He stood up and walked up the stairs, going into the bathroom. I heard the water run and looked over at Alice, but there was no warmth there. She looked like she didn’t approve of all my methods. She didn’t look angry, just slightly perturbed.

 

            “What?” I asked.

 

            “Are you more subtle when you’ve slept?” she asked.

 

            “Sometimes, but when I’m tired I just cut to the chase and speak my mind,” I said and then winked at her, “by the way, nice tits.”

 

            “Thanks for noticing,” she smiled slightly.

 

            The toilet flushed and the door to the bathroom opened upstairs. Piggy walked around the upper level of his condo for a moment, I heard something rustle up there and folded my arms, letting my right hand slip into my jacket and unclasp the strap over the Webley. He came down the stairs a few moments later with a jacket on.

 

            “Ready to go,” he said.

 

            “You won’t need that,” I said was we walked towards the door. “Already getting hot out there.”

 

            “You’ve got a jacket on,” he said.

 

            “I’m so cool I get chills in an oven.” I said which shows how tired I was. To make such a lousy joke at that sort of hour.

 

            “Me too,” he said and I just shrugged it off as we went out into the already too hot air.

 

            We walked to the car and got in with only seconds to spare before our skin melted off. Alice turned air conditioning down to its lowest setting and blasted the fans so that we were almost frozen solid by the sudden rush of air. Piggy told us how to get to the place where Columbia was. It wasn’t a house but an old office building in Detroit, and probably had been abandoned for several years. I only barely noticed the desolation of Detroit as we drove, feeling more the rumblings of my belly. I looked at my cell phone and noticed that it was well past noon by the time we pulled up.

 

            We walked into the building behind Piggy and just kept walking behind him to a conference room. When we got there, I found just about everyone I didn’t want to see. Columbia sat next to Amy, who was sitting next to Dee’s stupid twin. There was an empty space next to the fat smiling man, and I sort of figured that was the location that had been vacated by Mister Cat. There were a lot of other people sitting at the table, but to describe them, they might as well have just been a pack of cards for all the distinction one had from another.

 

            “Hi Jack,” Amy said, smiling warmly at me.

 

            “You killed my best man,” the fat man next to her said.

 

            “Shut up stupid, we all know that Heart is the Queen around here,” I said and walked towards the table. “Columbia, let’s get you home.”

 

            “Jack,” Columbia whined.

 

            “No,” I snapped. “Get out of that chair and go get your purse. If you want to hurt your father, have the stones to go do it face to face.”

 

            “It’s okay Columbia,” Amy said placing a hand on hers. “Go home and explain to your father exactly why you’re doing what you’re doing. I think Jack’s right, he needs to hear that it’s coming from inside his own home”

 

            Columbia got up without another word and walked out of the room. I looked at Amy, who was looking at me warmly. She smiled and kissed her finger, then pointing it at me and blowing.

 

            “Why the charade then?” I asked. “If you’re going to let me take her…”

 

            “What the hell are you doing?” Amy asked looking at Piggy.

 

            I turned to see a gun in his hand, which he had been carrying under his jacket, which explained why he had it. Had I been thinking, I would have checked him to make sure he wouldn’t do anything like this. The tears were back, which was going to cause him problems if he tried to shoot.

 

            “You killed my mom, you fucking bitch,” Piggy said through his tears.

 

            “This isn’t the time or place,” I said, because I’d heard it in a movie somewhere. “Piggy!”

 

            His head turned towards me and he looked like he was about to say something. There was a sound like someone working the slide on an automatic pistol and then another sound of an empty shell hitting a wall. Piggy’s face became one of shock and I turned to see a silenced Ruger in Amy’s hand. She pulled the trigger twice more and the pained look on Piggy’s face grew more desperate. He dropped the gun and fell forward.

 

            “Piggy!” Columbia shouted and fell towards him.

 

            “Stop it you stupid girl,” Amy said standing up and pointing the gun.

 

            My hand must have been moving on it’s own without tell me because when I raised it to point at Amy the Webley was already in it. I aimed it at the center of her head, which would have exploded like a melon if I fired at this range. She looked at me and convulsively pointed her gun at me. She then smiled and tried to play it light.

 

            “Come on Jack,” she said smiling at me and licking her lips. “How is this going to work?”

 

            I didn’t say anything, just watched for the slightest sign that she was about to shoot. Alice went to one knee and tried to pull Columbia away.

 

            “I can skin the wings off a fly in mid air with this thing,” she said tilting the gun but still aiming it at me. “I could easily have killed you last night, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

 

            I just stood, silently aiming.

 

            “You’re not even going to banter with me?” she sounded a little sad. “That’s kind of disappointing. We really should have banter at a time like this.”

 

            “I’m really fucking tired Amy,” I said simply. “Been a long fucking day.”

 

            “Oh Christ! You still haven’t been to bed have you?” she slumped her shoulders and bent her knees to try and look cute, while keeping the gun trained on me. “Jesus Jack, you should just dump this case and get some sleep. I would offer to put you to bed, but you wouldn’t get sleep that way.”

 

            I thumbed back the hammer, as it was the only witty thing I could think of. I heard Alice and Columbia leave the room and head out the door.

 

            “Okay, fine,” She laughed and set the gun down on the table. “Does that make you happy?”

 

            “I’m not going to be happy for some time,” I said as I walked out of the office backward.

 

            “I’m not going to chase you this time,” she said as I backed out of the office. I suppose I probably believed her, but I still didn’t turn around until there was a door between us.

 

            When I got out into the street, I saw a red SUV sitting at the corner, and another drove up behind it as Alice pulled out into the street. I had a feeling we only just missed being part of a much bigger outlay of blood by leaving when we did.

 

This is part nineteen of twenty-three, come back next week for part twenty and every Thursday until we're done to see what happens next. If you get lost, one of the tags here should help you. The Liberty tag will take you to the story while the Jack Tag will take you to Part One of every story we post here.

missed one

Didn't post all the pics.

Shown to scale

You remember the Dinosaur book? I decided to show you just how huge it is. I got a sword and Hol's biggest bowie knife for scale.

Trufax

Art is where you find it

So we were at the DIA this weekend right?

And I was in the Modern Art Wing with Matt, because there was a wedding and they’d blocked off access to pretty much ALL the good stuff that I like. So I’m sneering at the modern art and trying not to spit bile at the Andy Warhol paintings. Spewing stomach fluids is the only reasonable reaction when presented with a something by Warhol, who wasn’t so much making art as he was trying to convince everyone he was clever, but as I was in public it’s not considered polite.

Anyway, we’re walking around and Matt is valiantly trying to figure out why some of the presentations come with little barriers and others don’t. Just so you can picture them, they’re made up of foot tall metal polls and the polls are strung together with a plastic covered metal cord. So we’re looking at some of the few good things in the gallery (they have exactly ONE Rothko) and Matt was becoming sarcastic about what does and doesn’t constitute art. He began to wonder aloud if perhaps he could get some of the stands and cord and maybe put them around random objects he could get people to admire them as part of the exhibit.

“These chairs for example.” He said pointing to the metal benches I was standing next to. “I bet if I put those around this chair, people would think it was on display instead of being a chair.”

“Matt?” I said, pointing to a plaque on the wall that announced that the chairs had a name, they were made by an artist and had all the normal information. “They are part of the exhibit.”

I believe I saw a crack for in his personality at that point. If he’s found bombing a bank in ten years claiming his name is Trevor Durkin, I will fully and completely blame that plaque for the shattering of his mind into tiny violent fragments. We finally admitted defeat upon being presented with three soup pots placed next to three medicine balls on a laminated shelf in an attempt to say something about commercialism. The chief problem with that piece being that it’s more than 20 years old and anything it had to say was either ignored or misinterpreted. I prefer the idea that people saw that and thought “Yeah! I can have more than one soup pot. No! I NEED more than one! I need three of everything! WOOOO! Commercialism here I come!” Teach the artist for being so clever. Frankly I only go in to the modern section to look at the Rothko (sadly, not one of his better ones) and a couple other things, so I was glad to leave.

And before you ask, yes I do understand modern art. I studied it for a while, and I know all about it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Even though I do have a strange affection for Rothko, Dali, Van Doesburg and Ernst. Besides, I’m a writer, even if I did like something, I couldn’t admit it. All writers are required to think artists are a bunch of wanks because while they were out taking drugs, having sex, and getting paid for putting stuffing into an ugly potato sack, we were stuck sitting in dark rooms learning to write. That sort of thing breeds resentment after a while.

NOW! That is not the funny bit.

Wait for a moment and I’ll tell you the funny bit.

We went to see Public Enemies after the museum and dinner. While leaving the theater I happen to see something that caught my considerable interest and intellect. There was a bench, that someone had put four of those crowd control towers with yellow caution tape around them to make sure no one would go into the box they’d made. And what was inside this box of caution? I had to run to get Matt before he got to his car so I could point at the concrete bench and shout “THEY DID IT! THEY ACTUALLY DID IT!”

And we all stood around the bench, which had been closed off for our safety and convince, to discuss what it meant. There was no plaque, no paragraph of intended meanings, we each had to make up our own minds. There also was no Stone Line giving me a headache by being allowed to exist just one room over. So really, I don’t know why I bother going to museums, art is everywhere, so long as you know to look for it.

Except, you can’t just go anywhere to look at a Rembrandt and then declare loudly and with aforethought of malice. “He is sooo over rated now. I remember when he was just working on the streets and was struggling. He had passion then, now he’s just gone cold.” Or staring at any random Madonna and Child for fifteen seconds and then turn to my companion and say “I don’t get it. What are they trying to say?”

Because A) Fuck people for thinking I should make life easy for them and B) I love the looks they give me when I say things like that.

Translations

It is not enough to know the words. It is not enough to understand the words yourself. One must also be able to tell others what the words mean.

Example, there is my personal favorite speech from Hamlet…
How all occasions do inform against me, and spur my dull revenge! What is a man? If his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more. Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused. Now, whether it be bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple of thinking too precisely on the event, a thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom and ever three parts coward, I do not know why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;' sith I have cause and will and strength and means to do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me: Witness this army of such mass and charge led by a delicate and tender prince, whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd makes mouths at the invisible event, exposing what is mortal and unsure to all that fortune, death and danger dare, even for an egg-shell. Rightly, to be great is not to stir without great argument, but greatly to find quarrel in a straw when honour's at the stake. How stand I then, that have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, excitements of my reason and my blood, and let all sleep? While, to my shame, I see the imminent death of twenty thousand men, that, for a fantasy and trick of fame, go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, which is not tomb enough and continent to hide the slain? O, from this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

Translation: What the have I done about all this? Am I gonna go out like a bitch? Fuck no! Fair warning. Shit’s on now motherfuckers!

Idea

One is an accountant from Devonshire, the other is the great wizard Thoth-Amon
Together... they fight crime.



This message brought to you by the emergency "Yeah, I ain't got shit today" network.

FACT!!

At least Iago enjoyed being a bastard and didn't go around saying he was sorry for being a dick only to go on being one anyway.

TRUFAX!

Also a DC villian if you spell it wrong

Didja ever notice that man lives in the sunlit world of what he believes to be reality, but that unseen by most, there's an underworld? Like, a place that is just as real, but not as brightly lit?


I know I have.

Sumation

Hamlet, as a character, can be summed up in two sentences... "You ever had one of those days where nothing goes right? Well, let me tell you about the week I've been having."

Macbeth in a nutshell... "Bitches don't know 'bout my future."

BONUS: Sam in Return of the King can be defined by the sentence "They call me MISTER Gamgee!"

I think people in the Mid-West are just confussed.

I've never really understood why Michigan City is in Indiana and Kansas City is in Missouri and yet New York City is in New York and Jersey City is in New Jersey.

Went to the movies

Public Enemies was pretty good. Not great, it dragged in a couple of places, but good.

There were two big problems for me.
1. I don't actually know when the Elevated trains got going in Chicago, but I'm pretty sure the trains themselves didn't have florescent tube lights until the 60s or 70s. That's just one example of a modern piece of anachronism jumped out at me. There were a bunch of other ones, but that was the big one.

2. Digital cameras just aren't ready yet. They still don't like action, they don't like any kind of fast movement, they drop frames all over the place, it makes it look like it was done on a shitty video camera. I'm not talking about how they chose to shoot the movie, which is done in that neo-faux-documentary style which isn't like a documentary at all because any camera man who shifted and bounced around like that in a documentary would be told to go back to shooting the 10 o'clock news in Buttfuck Iowa for a few more years while he honed his skills. This is purely a technical problem with a piece of equipment that is not yet ready for prime time.

I normally wouldn't bother mentioning these things, but they were distracting enough to pull me out of the movie when they came up. The camera thing was really bad and kept hitting me in the face.

Besides those two minor points (and in the grand scheme of things, they are very minor) I thought the movie was really good... just not actually great. However, I'd watch it again and I'll probably get it on DVD, which I know isn't saying much but there it is. Nothing was really wrong with the movie. Historically things were pretty good as far as the Dillinger timeline went. I was thinking that not as many people died at Little Bohemia as they show in the movie, but I figured I was just mistaken. I was about 14 when my interest in Mid-West bank robbers of the 30s waned and it had been a long time since I refreshed my memory. So yeah, it was alright.

Outdated Dinosaurs

I know pretty much all of Charles Knight's pictures of dinosaurs are wrong.
I know that he represents an outdated view
I still like his works though
They represent the Dinos I grew up with
And an era gone by

I love the old and the outdated
Which should be no surprise to you
And I really need to get
A Crystal Palace Iguanodon model
Frankly, my desk demands it.

5 things (I was out today edition)

1. I am currently behind schedule on all but one project that I'm working on. As a side note, the only reason the other project isn't behind schedule is that the schedule hasn't actually been written yet. I assume that as soon as I have a schedule for that project, I'll promptly get behind on it.

2. I'm not sure whether I should be pleased or disturbed to find that Nyotaimori is a real practice and not just something dreamed up by hentai pervs.

3. I've only just noticed there isn't much Dinosaur stuff in our house. What's up with that? I need to get some dinosaur fossil replicas for this joint or something. Maybe get something from the Carnegie collection to spruce the place up a bit. Something from Gaston Design maybe? Birthday is right around the corner, got to start thinking about these things. SRSLY!

4. As of now, all distractions must come in an attractive female form. If I get any other kind, I will either ignore it or smash it with a hammer.

5. This might just be the best advertisement in existence. All of it, the whole thing. There is no part of this ad that doesn't tickle me in one way or another. The batshittery at the end alone justified this thing. I don't care what they're selling, and I can’t say I rightly know, but I'll buy a box of it.

6 zoo pics

I didn't take my camera, these were shot with my phone, I just thought it was funny having the bear on the underwater tube like this.

Liberty's Child (Day Eighteen)

Liberty’s Child

A Jack Collier Mystery

By Brett N. Lashuay

Look here for last week’s entry!

 

Day Eighteen: Another Chapter

 

            “So what the hell was all that about Knight?” Church asked as we started to drive.

 

            “Knight would never let himself be put on video like that,” I said tapping my knee with my fingers. “For reasons I don’t quite understand, UNICORN wanted someone to think that LION had kidnapped Columbia when really it was a scam all along. Now, we know that it was UNICORN all the time.”

 

            “So how do we find her?” Church asked.

 

            “Why are you interested?”

 

            “She’s probably being watched by UNICORN’s people, and now I want to show them what happens when you fuck around with Church. I’ve had problems finding them thus far.”

 

            “Can I get her out first?” I asked.

 

            “Sure,” Church nodded. “So how do we find her?”

 

            “It’ll take me some time,” I said, thinking that I didn’t really need a heavy squad with me for something like this. “Can you take me back to my place?”

 

            “Not going to bed are you?” Church asked.

 

            “No,” I shook my head. “I need a shower after being in that office. I’ll need to make another call too.”

 

            “You gonna tell me when you find out where they are?” Church asked.

 

            “I’ll see,” I said. “If she doesn’t end up being some place where only a few people knows where she is, I’ll probably let you know.”

 

            “Thanks.” he said, giving me a nod of understanding.

 

            We drove to my place and he left me at my door, letting me get out and walk to the door by myself. I opened the door and started to strip my suit off almost immediately as I walked to the bathroom. At least I think that’s what happened, because I found the suit on the floor when I came home later. When I’d finally slept though, the suit was neatly folded and placed on a chair by my table. The memory of those less important moments has slipped through my fingers, since I’ve had to try hard just to retain the important things. I had to let some things go, and what happened to my suit that morning was one of them. There were other circumstances though, so it might have been some of that.

 

            I got in the shower, letting the water pour over me. bringing me back to some kind of humanity. The tough guy who threatened a gangster with an empty gun melted away and the private eye who was just trying to correct a mistake he made years ago came back. I could feel my humanity return, the parts that hung out with the likes of Church went back into those dark places that we all keep locked off.

 

            I got out of the shower and stood in the hallway, dripping naked as I walked to my jacket. I pulled my cell phone from my pants pocket and scrolled through until I found Alice’s number. I pressed the send button and listened to a couple of rings before she picked up and answered.

 

            “Hi Jack,” she said, her voice sounding serious. “How did it go?”

 

            “I think I know how we can find her,” I said calmly, “Do you want to help out?”

 

            “Sure,” she said.

 

            “There is a park right next to my place,” I offered up. “Can you meet me there?”

 

            “Yeah, I know where that is,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”

 

            “Thanks,” I said.

 

            I dried myself off and with a compulsion that could only have come from sleep deprivation, I walked to my closet and got my charcoal suit. It was a dark gray that was slightly warmer than my black suit. I felt the need to wear a suit though, and this was my other suit. I only had the two suits in those days, unlike the days when I had a dozen suits ready to go at any moment.

 

            I walked to the park, which was just a small piece of grass and a pond. It was a place for yuppies who bought property in the area to run before they go to work. All the yuppies had gone to work though, soon it would be lunch time, in a few hours or a few minutes perhaps. I was making my way around the pond and watching the swallows as I went. I remember when I first came to this place, I’d never actually seen swallows before. I was surprised at how small they were and how quickly they could move as they flew down by the surface of the water eating bugs. They flew over the pond, spiraling in ways that you’d almost think had to be faked. They’d zip around the grass, through the air, spiraling back and forth around the air like some kind of miniature fighter jets.

 

            I sat on a metal bench, waiting for the agent and watching the birds. They were so incredibly false looking, like something out of a dream, something terribly unreal. I heard a car pull up and then a door close, while still just watching the birds. She sat down next to me and I could feel the weight of her on the seat and smell her perfume.

 

            It was a different perfume than what Amy Heart wore. It was a sweeter scent, with a hint of spice behind it. There was something there that made me feel like I could trust her. I wanted to turn and hold her, to kiss her and to make love on the grass. We didn’t really have the time for that though, and I’m not sure I really had the energy.

 

            “You lost your car,” she said, and I could hear her turning towards me. “Is that why you called me?”

 

            “No,” I said watching the birds. “I could have gotten Debbie’s car or something if I really needed it.”

 

            “Your secretary?” she asked.

 

            “That’s right,” I nodded.

 

            “Where do we go then?” she asked, and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t looked at her yet.

 

            “Piggy,” I said looking at her, noticing the swell of her breasts under her shirt as I turned. How her pants were given such terrific shape by her legs. I then realized where I was looking and locked in on her eyes.

 

            “Piggy?” she asked, noticing that I was looking in her eyes.

 

            “Yeah,” I nodded again. “Piggy knew where she was before, he’ll know where we can find them.”

 

            “They won’t tell Piggy a second time will they?” she asked. “I mean, no matter how much you strong arm him, he won’t know.”

 

            “We don’t need him to know where she is, we need him to know where they are.” I leaned back into the chair, and stole another look at her legs and breasts. “I think I can get him to tell us where they are.”

 

            “You planning on selling them to Church?” she asked.

 

            “I don’t much care,” I said. “So long as we get there first.”

 

            “What are you thinking?” she asked.

 

            “I’m thinking about getting Piggy on our side, making him work for us.”

 

            “How?”

 

            “It’s a surprise,” I smiled at her. “You’ll like it though.”

 

            “Will I?”

 

            “I hope so,” I said. “If I work it out right, you, me, Columbia and even Piggy will all get away nice and clean. We’ll all go home and have sex and get promotions and lots of money and stuff.”

 

            “What, all four of us?” she asked. “I’m not sure I’m up to that.”

 

            “No,” I shook my head. “You and I will go home for sex, and those two kids will go home and get punished for causing so much trouble.”

 

            “You think I’m going to want to go home with you and have sex?” she asked.

 

            “I certainly hope so,” I said smiling at her, “The idea of getting to see you naked is the only thing keeping me going.”

 

            “Well it would be wrong of me to take that hope from you,” she said standing up. “Come on, let’s get this done before you fall over.”

 

            “I’m not going to fall over until this is all done,” I muttered as the birds flew past us. Then something occurred to me “Can you get a file on Amy Heart slash Cooke online?”

 

            “Yeah,” she nodded.

 

            “Okay. Let’s go to my office, get a copy of her file, put it on a disc and we can take it to Piggy to show him that even The Agency knows she killed his mother.”

 

            “You want to show him that?” she asked.

 

            “Well you guys do know it right?”

 

            “Why do you want to get stuff on disc?” she asked.

 

            “To show him, but not leave any sort of passwords on his computer or anything.”

 

            “I can show him on my cell phone,” she said pulling her phone out and showing me. “You do know about smart phones don’t you?”

 

            When I was about fifteen, my father got his first cell phone for work. It’s interesting to note how phones have come full circle as this phone was almost exactly the size of that phone that he’d gotten from work. It seemed to be made mostly of screen and had a key board, but it was the same size as the one Dad had.

 

            “That thing actually make calls?” I asked.

 

            “Yes,” she said. “It just also surfs the web, has some memory and can be used as a flotation device.”

 

            “Flotation device?”

 

            “You should see what happens when these get wet, they expand three hundred percent,” she quipped as she put the phone back into her pocket. Seeing her do that, I noticed for the first time that I’d never seen her carry a purse of any kind. I should have noticed that before, but I never had.

 

            “Nice,” I nodded. “And you can get enough information when we get there?”

 

            “Yeah, no problem,” she confirmed.

 

            “Good,” I said. “Let’s go see Piggy then.”

           

 

This is part twelve of eighteen, come back next week for part nineteen and every Thursday until we're done to see what happens next. If you get lost, one of the tags here should help you. The Liberty tag will take you to the story while the Jack Tag will take you to Part One of every story we post here.

There's an amergency going on, it's still going on, it's still an emergency

Vulnerability Note VU#259425

Overview

Adobe Flash contains a vulnerability that may allow a remote, unauthenticated attacker to execute arbitrary code on a vulnerable system. Adobe Flash Player, Reader, Acrobat, and other products that include Flash support are affected.

I. Description

Adobe Flash is a widely deployed multimedia platform typically used to provide content in web sites. Adobe Flash Player, Reader, Acrobat, and other Adobe products include Flash support.
Adobe Flash Player contains a code execution vulnerability. An attacker may be able to trigger this vulnerability by convincing a user to open a specially crafted Flash (SWF) file. The SWF file could be hosted or embedded in a web page or contained in a Portable Document Format (PDF) file. If an attacker can take control of a website or web server, trusted sites may exploit this vulnerability.

This vulnerability affects Adobe Flash versions 9.0.159.0 and 10.0.22.87 and earlier 9.x and 10.x versions. Adobe Reader 9, Acrobat 9, and other Adobe products (including Photoshop CS3, PhotoShop Lightroom, Freehand MX, Fireworks) provide Flash support independent of Flash Player. As of 2009-07-22, Adobe Reader 9.1.2 includes Flash 9.0.155.0, which is likely vulnerable to issues addressed by Flash 9.0.159.0 (APSB09-01).

This vulnerability is being actively exploited. [Emphasis mine]

II. Impact

By convincing a user to view a specially crafted HTML document (e.g., a web page or an HTML email message or attachment) or a PDF file, an attacker may be able to execute arbitrary code.

III. Solution

We are currently unaware of a complete solution to this problem. [Emphasis mine] Please see Adobe Product Security Advisory APSA09-03 and the workarounds listed below.
It is important to apply updates and mitigations not only Flash Player, but also to Adobe Reader, Acrobat, and other products that have independent Flash support.

Disable Flash in your web browser [Emphasis original]

Disable Flash or selectively enable Flash content as described in Securing Your Web Browser.

Disable Flash and 3D & Multimedia support in Adobe Reader 9 [Emphasis original]

Flash and 3D & Multmedia support are implemented as plugin libraries in Adobe Reader. Disabling Flash in Adobe Reader will only mitigate attacks using a SWF embedded in a PDF file. Disabling 3D & Multimedia support does not directly address the vulnerability, but does provide additional mitigation and results in a more user-friendly error message instead of a crash.

To disable Flash and 3D & Multimedia support in Adobe Reader 9 on Microsoft Windows, delete or rename these files:
"%ProgramFiles%\Adobe\Reader 9.0\Reader\authplay.dll"
"%ProgramFiles%\Adobe\Reader 9.0\Reader\rt3d.dll"
For Apple Mac OS X, delete or rename these files:
"/Applications/Adobe Reader 9/Adobe Reader.app/Contents/Frameworks/AuthPlayLib.bundle"
"/Applications/Adobe Reader 9/Adobe Reader.app/Contents/Frameworks/Adobe3D.framework"
For GNU/Linux delete or rename these files (locations may vary among distributions):
"/opt/Adobe/Reader9/Reader/intellinux/lib/libauthplay.so"
"/opt/Adobe/Reader9/Reader/intellinux/lib/librt3d.so"
File locations may be different for Adobe Acrobat or other Adobe products that include Flash and 3D & Multimedia support. Disabling these plugins will reduce functionality, and will not protect against SWF files hosted on web sites. Depending on the update schedule for products other than Flash Player, consider leaving Flash and 3D & Multimedia support disabled unless they are absolutely required.

Enable DEP in Microsoft Windows [Emphasis original]

Consider enabling Data Execution Prevention (DEP) in supported versions of Windows. DEP should not be treated as a complete workaround, but DEP can mitigate the execution of attacker-supplied code in some cases. Microsoft has published detailed technical information about DEP in Security Research & Defense blog posts "Understanding DEP as a mitigation technology" part 1 and part 2. Use of DEP should be considered in conjunction with the application of patches or other mitigations described in this document.

Systems Affected

Vendor Status Date Notified Date Updated
Adobe Vulnerable 2009-07-23

References

http://www.us-cert.gov/reading_room/securing_browser/
http://blogs.adobe.com/psirt/2009/07/potential_adobe_reader_and_fla.html
http://blogs.adobe.com/psirt/2009/07/update_on_adobe_reader_acrobat.html
http://www.adobe.com/support/security/advisories/apsa09-03.html
http://bugs.adobe.com/jira/browse/FP-1265
http://www.symantec.com/connect/blogs/next-generation-flash-vulnerability
http://blogs.technet.com/srd/archive/2009/06/05/understanding-dep-as-a-mitigation-technology-part-1.aspx
http://blogs.technet.com/srd/archive/2009/06/12/understanding-dep-as-a-mitigation-technology-part-2.aspx

Credit

This vulnerability was reported on the Adobe PSIRT blog.

This document was written by Chris Taschner, Will Dormann, Chad Dougherty, and Art Manion.

Other Information

Date Public: 2009-07-22
Date First Published: 2009-07-22
Date Last Updated: 2009-07-23
CERT Advisory:
CVE-ID(s): CVE-2009-1862
NVD-ID(s): CVE-2009-1862
US-CERT Technical Alerts:
Metric: 35.34
Document Revision: 34


Put simply... Flash has a flaw that can let people murder you in your sleep through your computer. You might want to batten down a few hatches.

Actual Size (a poem)

I bought a book at Borders last night.
A big picture book about Dinosaurs.
One that is way too big.
Like 17x14 and a half inches big.
It's just called Dinosaurs.
It was in the "We know you'll never buy these, but you'd be disappointed if we didn't offer them" section.
But I did buy it
Because of two words
Actual Size
The microraptor has a two page picture of it
And that picture is labeled MICRORAPTOR (actual size)
So for that reason alone I bought it.
It's turning out to be a really nice book though.
They put feathers on T-Rex and made him look like a punk rocker
The book was printed in October 2008
This is the most up to date information we've got about them
We know they had feathers now
We were wrong all this time
It's from a printing company in England
And the price is only labeled in pounds
But someone sold it here anyway
You can get it at Amazon.com and .co.uk
If you want to have a huge book about dinosaurs that is.
Or you want to see pictures of Archaeopteryx
In Actual Size

ta

And now, a link to a photo of a rabbit.

Bunny!

Nostalgia in book form.

I got a couple of books by Alan G. Barbour from my father last week, Days Of Thrills And Adventures and The Thrill Of It All.

Both of these are basically the same kind of book, pictorial histories about b-movies from the 50s and earlier. One is about serials, the other is about westerns. What gets me that looking through is you could probably get more information on both these subjects poking around the wikipedia entries I linked in my last sentence as jumping off points than you could from these books. Finding the photos might take a little more time, because there are a lot of photos, but I'm going to guess that it wouldn't take much work.

They're still good books, with charm and fun, but I can't feel that the internet has supplanted these books that I remember from my youth. That makes me a little sad in a way.

Yuppie Swords

I was just sitting in the living room, leafing through a book about swords, when it occurred to me that the rapier is really just a yuppie sword. Think about it, you’ve got a sword, which is a military weapon, but you’ve changed and adapted it until it has virtually no use on the battlefield. A burgeoning middle class was beginning to look toward some of the styles and symbols of the upper classes. What you had was a trend for people who had never been able to carry or use such a thing before to start showing off how much power and affluence they had attained. Previously you had to be a knight or otherwise engaged in the military classes to carry these important weapons which were both a tool and a symbol of office. But now, because of various factors, citizens can start openly carrying swords without being military men of any kind.

The rapier developed into a slim blade whose only offensive ability was the thrusting point, which made it useless as a battle weapon. The trend of demilitarizing the weapons would continue into the small sword which was even more of a little needle for girls and wimpy yuppies to poke each other with. Yes, yes, some military men used small swords, but only the rich ones who could get daddy to buy them one from Europe and served in The Guards while the real men did real fighting.

So what you have, in the rapier, is the 16th century equivalent of the Hummer. It started out looking like the military version, but was slimmed down for civilian use until it looked like a pathetic penis extension for insecure men. Also, little known fact, rapiers used more gas than daggers and falchions.

While the artists, poets, and the sons of rich men were having sissy slap stab fights with each other, the basket hilt (a far more robust slashing blade) was pretty much standard on the battlefield. That evolved into the saber which was used by everyone until the end of the whole sword “thing” when people started to notice that guns were not only available but actually worked pretty well.

Golden Fish?

This almost went into my Sadko review, which you should all read if you haven't because it's pretty funny. I made the macro and then decided that I should just present the review without it and now I think that it's a shame you didn't see this...



There was a second one I was toying with as well,


Not as funny out of context, but might have worked in the review better.

Update

If some one could come over to the house with a sledgehammer or possibly a shovel and smash me right above the bridge of my nose and then one good smack across the side of the head, then I think the pressure might abate and this headache might go away.

I don’t think I’ve ever had headaches this bad or this prolonged. I get them in the summer, but they go away and come back in a cycle. This is one long continual attack on elves jamming ice picks in my brain. In a way it’s really quite fascinating to see how much pain my head can be in without say… going blind or loosing control of my motor functions.

Sound and light don’t seem to be affecting it one way or the other though, so that’s nice. I mean otherwise, I could hide under a blanket or shove cotton in my ears, and then I’d miss some of the fun. I would hate not to experience every second of this.

Speaking of painful fun…

The Philogelos, written in the 4th or 5th century CE by either Hierokles or Philagrios is be a collection of jokes, some of which are said to go back as far as the 2nd or 3rd century BCE. Here is a sample, so you know that this is a really old joke…
Talkative Barber: How shall I cut your hair today?
Customer: In silence!

Open letter

Dear world,

Look, just fuck off for three days will you? Seriously, just fuck off. Sick of your shit.

Hugs and kisses,
Me

Life Hints

Want to screw with people? Here's a great way. Have t-shirts made with the names of fake bands on them and then roll your eyes when people ask who Monks & Madness are and what kind of music they play. For added fun, grumble something about them being "only the best post-punk, neo-skiffle band in existence" and to further muddy the waters explain you first heard them when they opened for Rat Scallion last year. Never EVER explain who Rat Scallion are, just look like the person you're talking to is an idiot for not knowing them and walk away in disgust. And remember kids, the more remote the starting location for your bands are, the more points you'll score. After about a week of this people will be petrified to talk about music with you at all, and will believe that you're only listening to Katy Perry because you want something to clear your pallet between the "real" music you're listening to.

Also, people keep calling me cynical for some reason that I don't fully understand.

Word

A Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar one evening fair, and one could tell by how he walked he'd drunk more than his share.

WORD!

Not happy today

I hate the world and Ann Arbor.
The next time someone tells me how they love Ann Arbor, and what an awesome town it is, I think I'm going to have to knock all their teeth out. Then I'll choke them to death on their own fingers, a task made all the easier by getting those pesky teeth out of the way, and end by wearing their esophagus as a necktie.

That might be too harsh though. I mean there's nothing wrong with Ann Arbor that couldn't be solved by 6 months of heavy, indiscriminate aerial bombing. Get some surplus WWII blockbusters and just let ten or twelve squadrons drop entire loads of those over the town five times a day for half a year, that’d probably solve most my problems with the place. Or possibly one good solid nuke, something that would just leave a sheet of glass to mark the spot. It is the sort of place that brings to mind the phrase “Take off and nuke the site from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.”

Also, when I'm wearing a face that in the natural world would come in bright red with black stripes... don't fucking touch me. If not for the ludicrously pinko laws we have in this god forsaken nation, I would have ripped her face off right there and worn it as a hat. I have been developing a serious aversion to being touched by anyone not on my intimate list lately and this fucking woman just walked up, and started talking to me and touching me when I was wearing my “I will kill you! I will kill you and eat you unless I can think of something worse to do” face. I can't stress enough how much I don't want to be touched lately, and yet people keep touching me. This isn’t just rude, it’s stupid. I’m not nice. Or understanding. I bite… hard.

I think I’m just going to start stabbing people. That would also be a step towards creating proper etiquette in the world, as I would have killed all the fucktards who don’t understand it’s rude to just walk up to someone and grab hold of them. Think of it as social evolution, or natural selection, or just me stabbing motherfuckers what clearly have grown tired of this mortal coil but fear the social stigma of suicide.

And if I have to add that my headache is a thousand times worse, then you haven't been paying attention and should just strip ten points from your score.

However, Holly got a great big dictionary, so she was happy before this whole Ann Arbor debacle started.

My life according to Prince

Now the ‘rules’ said to use only song names from one artist, I was supposed answer the questions (most of which aren’t actually questions) and that I wasn’t to repeat song titles. Now it claims that this is a lot harder than one might suppose, which is foolish because I chose Prince. That gives me nearly 500 songs to choose from when you consider all the songs he wrote and released in one form or another. Even if I hamstring myself and don’t put in The Time or any of those ancillary groups, I still have well over 400 songs. I could have answered a lot more questions.

Are you a male or female?
Pretty Man

Describe yourself:
Sexy M.F.

How do you feel:
I Rock, Therefore I Am

Describe where you currently live:
White Mansion

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Erotic City

Your favorite form of transportation:
Little Red Corvette (This one was required by law)

Your best friend is:
Starfish & Coffee

What's the weather like:
Play in the Sunshine (yeah, fuck that law)

Favorite time of day:
All The Midnights In The World

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Colonized Mind

What is life to you:
One Kiss at a Time

Your joy:
Joy in Repetition

What is the best advice you have to give:
Feel Good, Feel Better, Feel Wonderful

Thought for the Day:
Sometimes It Snows in April

How I would like to die:
Batdance

My soul's present condition:
Emancipation

My motto:
Cloreen Bacon Skin

Favs

The Collyer Brothers remain some of my favorite crazies of all time. Although I wonder if I should just say Langley, since Homer's condition could have made him a prisoner to his brother's whims.

You know who died?

I feel like I'm in a Bill Cosby comedy bit about him talking to his grandfather...

"You know who died?
"Who?"
"Everybody, everybody I've ever met has died."

He claimed that it was always like this talking to his grandfather...
"You know who died? A lot of people."

Only in this case it's celebrities so they're people I've actually heard of and would recognize in a line up. That's more than I can say for dead relatives.

Seasons

Seasonal headaches are fun, aren’t they?

Hurts so bad that you get stressed out and the stress causes a secondary headache, and you end up with something that can only barely be touched by modern science. Even the wizardry of concentrated breathing and stress reduction techniques from the ancient mists of The Orient* can’t help. Best I can do is dull the edges and make a dull throb out of the sharp stabs.

Great fun, and let me tell you friends and neighbors it’s so entertaining during those long nights when you can’t sleep. Makes it worth the insomnia they induce to stay up and enjoy every moment.


*(or do all those things come from the Aztecs now? I’m sort of out of touch)

She sure was neat... I mean great!

To be perfectly honest, when I found out that Catherine the Great didn't really die from a horse-boning related mishap, she got a little less awesome in my mind. This is because I judge all historical figures by how they bowwed their chicka-wow-wow if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

...

I'm talking about how they fuck.

Plebeians.


Where was I?
Right Cathy the Great...
But then I learned that she DID get it on with just about every hot young officer in the country, right up to the grand age of 67 and it was alright again.

Liberty's Child (Day Seventeen)

Liberty’s Child

A Jack Collier Mystery

By Brett N. Lashuay

Look here for last week’s entry!

 

Day Seventeen: Dee's Office

 

            It’s amazing how after a meal and some coffee, you can feel alive again no matter how tired you are. I wasn’t even feeling the fatigue anymore, beyond some stiffness in my muscles and a nagging feeling at the back of my head. I was feeling much better by the time Church offered to pay the check and I let him. We hadn’t discussed much as we sat at the table alone, but a thought kept bugging me. I looked over at the five Cardinals who had sat separately from us and seemed to ignore our very existence and then looked back at Church.

 

            “You put Christmas’s ashes in a tomb or something?” I asked as we both began pouring cream and sugar into our fifth cups of coffee.

 

            “No,” He shook his head as he stirred the cup with his spoon. “After the cremation I just took her home and as crazy as it might sound I put the urn on the mantle.”

 

            “Isn’t that what a lot of people do?” I asked him, pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead to prop that heavy weight up while I put my elbows on the table.

 

            “I didn’t intend to leave her like that,” he said drinking from the mug. “I’d sort of thought of shipping her home, having her scattered, something.”

 

            “And instead she’s been sitting on the mantle for six months?”

            “They wanted me to do time so badly,” he said and took another drink. “I’ll get to it after this.”

 

            I raised the mug of coffee to my lips and drank nearly half of it in one big gulp. I’ve never been much of a coffee fan, but sometimes one has to drink foul things in order to stay up way past one’s bedtime. I put the mug down in order to gird myself for the fact that coffee was about to hit my stomach.

 

            “What is going on anyway?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew.

 

            “These two upstarts think that just because they can scare a few small time guys in their towns that they can come hassle me.” He sipped at his mug again and set it down. “Really it’s just the twins having another one of their stupid fights, but they’ve managed to get big syndicates behind them this time.”

 

            “And now they think they really can take you on?”

 

            “They have not proven to be the wisest of creatures in the past.”

 

            “No,” I said shaking my head. “They haven’t.”

 

            “So what is your plan?” he asked and then finished his coffee.

 

            “We go in, rattle Dee a little, make him tell us where his brother is and maybe even find out how he thought something as stupid as this kidnapping might work out. I mean even if he got the money, how was it going to help if you got out the next day and shot him in the head?”

 

            “Do you even care?” Church asked.

 

            “It just doesn’t make any damn sense,” I complained, “Nothing about this entire damn day has made any sense. I mean beyond one or two things.”

 

            “This whole thing seems a little odd really. I mean why are you even coming along for this?”

 

            “We’ve got to cover all the bases and resolve all the threads soon or this story’s going to be longer than the Christmas story was. I’ve got a bunch of threads to finish up and as this is first person we’ve got to take care of it all with me there.”

 

            “Your fourth wall has something of a pet door there doesn’t it?” Church asked as we got into the car.

 

            “I prefer to think that it just has a large clock on it,” I said as we got in.

 

            We drove into Mt Clemens, coming to stop at a space in front of an office building that was new when Regan was president. I followed Church into the lobby and watched as he walked directly towards the stairs. I followed him as he went up to the third floor and noticed that the five Cardinals were right behind us, but they were defiantly letting us go first. We walked to one of the offices and Church pushed the door open.

 

            “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked as we started right past her desk.

 

            “Tell Dee that Church is here,” Church said walking past the rows of cubicles with me in tow.

 

            We walked through the rows and came to an office door, which Church and I  walked through. I pushed the door closed behind us and looked around the office. The room was actually a lot smaller than I had expected, or maybe it looked that way because of the three large men inside of it. The man behind the desk wasn’t so much fat as he was simply round. It was as if someone had put three balls, one on top of another and then just threw a shirt over it. The head was nearly perfectly round, the torso also looked round as well as his lower section. He had a large mouth, the corners of which turned down. He sat down in his desk as we came in, and his two guards began to move.

 

            Church moved to my left and approached the first guard, who was dressed in overalls and a leather jacket of all things. I noticed the second guard to my right as Church moved, this one was fat, had a large drooping mustache, and had left the house in dirty jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather biker’s jacket. Church hit the one in the overalls twice in the stomach, once in the face and then yanked the man’s sidearm from under his jacket. He threw the gun over his shoulder and hit the guard again. The second guard drew an automatic from under his vest and started to point it at Church, but found that the barrel of my Webley was already under his chin by the time he got the gun aimed.

 

            “Let’s not do anything like that,” I said taking the automatic in my left hand and tossing it over my shoulder.

 

            I then looked over his shoulder and saw the second automatic stuffed into the back of his jeans. I switched the Webley to my left hand and gingerly reached behind him. I noticed, with some disgust, that he’d actually shoved the gun down into the crack of his ass. I pulled the gun out, holding the handle with my thumb and forefinger and threw it away without touching it any more than necessary. 

 

            “My name’s Wally Egman,” he said, and I noticed his mustache dropped below his jaw line.

 

            “How ya doing?” I asked. “I’m a thirty-year-old mulberry field.”

 

            “You don’t take that gun out from under my chin then I’ll make you use it, then one of us will be on the floor mister strawberry field, forever. “

 

            “It’ll hurt,” I said thumbing back the hammer. “And it’s mulberry field.”

 

            Now that our playlet was over, Dee started to talk to Church. His voice was like that of the sort of person who spent most his youth getting drunk and doing things to cheerleaders that would have gotten him arrested if his family didn’t have money. His cheeks moved in such a way when he spoke that I couldn’t help thinking that this guy was the adult version of The Big Boy.

 

            “What are you going to do with that Corvid?” Dee asked. I turned to Dee as his mouth started moving, but it wasn’t until I saw what was in Church’s hand than I started to worry. The anti-aircraft gun that he’d drawn out was so big that it even looked big in Church’s mitt.

 

            “Sweet Monkey Jesus Church!” I exclaimed with surprise. “Were you going to shoot down airplanes? On Venus?”

 

            “Just making a point,” Church said. “The five hundred is good for that.”

 

            “That thing won’t make a point,” I said. “It’s too big, you’ll just get a splat.”

 

            “Which will make my point nicely,” he said nodding. “The main point I wish to make is that you and your brother need to stop having this stupid fight in my state. Just because I go under for a couple of months, that is not an invitation for you to start fucking around and trying to take over the place.”

 

            “And if we don’t leave?” Dee asked, trying not to sweat.

 

            “Dee,” Church sighed, “I can wipe you and your brother off the map. When it comes down to it, you two are just a thing in my dream. I’m the big bad monstrous son of a bitch here to scare the two of you out of town.”

 

            “You know we can’t just leave,” Dee said, trying to sound like he didn’t have the biggest gun in history pointed at his head. “Mrs. White wouldn’t approve.”

 

            “I don’t much care what your queen thinks,” Church said. “You should also consider that she’s not here right now and I am.”

 

            “There is something to that,” Wally mentioned.

 

            “I know you can’t go direct to The White Queen, but you’re going to have to go to Colonel Frenchy or something and tell him that you’ve got to pull out,” Church smiled unpleasantly at the fat man in the chair. “Your only other choice is for big bad monstrous Corvid to sweep down and scatter your asses.”

 

            “I see,” Dee said and he made a sort of gulping motion.

 

            “I’m glad we understand each other,” Church said and like a conjuring trick the gun vanished under his jacket. He then turned to me. “Do you have anything you’d like to ask?”

 

            “Yes,” I said and let the hammer on my gun down slowly.

 

            “I’ll remember this,” Wally Egman said.

 

            “If you hurry, you can be number seven for today,” I said, trying to sound less tired and jaded than I felt.

 

            “What?” he asked.

 

            “Six, in five minutes, including Chester Cat,” I said and was gratified to see him turn pale. “Now Dee, I’ve got one or two things to ask.”

 

            “What?” he asked, daring to sound annoyed.

 

            My head was starting to spin again, and the damn floor just wouldn’t stop shifting around under me. I tightened my legs and they felt okay, the world wasn’t going to fall in. I was ready to start asking my questions.

 

            Suddenly though, something about my intended line of questioning suddenly struck me as wrong. That little bell in my head started ringing and the lights went off. There was something about the video that struck me as being totally wrong, a big bright crimson alewife staring up at me from the ocean.

 

            “Where’s Knight?” I asked.

 

            “What?” Dee asked, looking annoyed that he was being subjected to Church’s little buddy.

 

            I was annoyed too though, and if I was right Dee would be dead before much longer, so I hit him. I didn’t just hit him though, I gave him a good hard punch across the face which split his lip and very possibly loosened a tooth or two. I looked at Wally Egman over my shoulder and was gratified that he took a step back and hit the wall. I then hit Dee on the other side and watched as his rocked the other way. I then pulled the Webley from its holster and pressed the barrel into his chest. Finally I grabbed him by his tie and yanked Dee towards me.

 

            “Where is Knight?” I growled at him.

 

            “He’s dead!” Dee spluttered. “He’s been dead for a month?”

 

            “A month?’ I asked.

 

            “A month, solid,” Dee managed.

 

            “How’d he die?”

 

            “Someone shot him and Red and left them in the Maumee River,” Dee said as he grabbed at some tissues and pressed them against his face. “Fuck if I know what for.”

 

            “I’m sure there was something,” I said. “How about your brother, where’s he?’

 

            “No idea,” Dee said and then flinched back when I started to lean forward. “Look, things have changed! I swear to god I don’t know where he is!”

 

            “Then I guess we’re done here,” I said stepping back and looking at Wally. “You should take your buddy out for oysters, he looks like he could use the protein.”

 

            “Get fucked,” Wally said to me.

 

            “I could have sworn that’s what I suggested for you,” I said as we left.

 

            We walked out of the building, which was still just opening. Business hours hadn’t even really started, and the workers were only just starting to show up. I always like watching groups arrive for work, since you get to see so many women in their professional clothes. Some people might like the relaxed look, but I’ve always had a fondness for business wear.

 

            I looked at the people moving at their best to get to their jobs, and wondered briefly if they knew how good they had it. Oh sure, they might see us and think it would be great to have our jobs, but they have no idea how tough this work is. I might have some freedoms, but I also have a lot of pain to go with it. I wondered if any of them would exchange lives with me for the last twenty-four hours or so, given a complete and total accounting of those hours.

 

            We got into the large red trucks and I patted my jacket pockets and realized something. I pulled the Webley from its holster and opened it up, letting the spent shells spill out into my hand. I then reloaded it with the rounds from my jacket pocket, closed it up and put it back. I then repeated the process with the Marley and when I was done I noticed Church’s face. He had a look somewhere between amazement and horror. I must say that above all else I’m glad I lived to see that look, that’s the one that keeps me warm at night.

 

            “You went in there with two empty guns?” Church asked.

 

            “Yeah,” I nodded. “They didn’t know they were empty.”

 

            “God damn,” he muttered and put the car in gear. “Remind me never to play cards with you.”

 

           

This is part seventeen of twenty-three, come back next week for part eighteen and every Thursday until we're done to see what happens next. If you get lost, one of the tags here should help you. The Liberty tag will take you to the story while the Jack Tag will take you to Part One of every story we post here.