Poetry Problems (a poem)

I'm struggling with a deeply theological poem.
It's a poem about gods and their place in the universe
But not much rhymes with twatburger
So the poem is sort of going nowhere.

Photo Everyday (005)

The Henry Ford Museum (March 26, 2010) (part banana)

The Henry Ford Museum (March 26, 2010) (part a bajillion)

Honk if you're horny

I saw a photo of someone with a "I *heart* Jebbus" button on their jacket. Whatever happened next, is Fancy's fault...

THIS happened next.

Photo Everyday (004)

How I probably fail at feminism

It probably denotes something deeply wrong with me that I find the Suffragette movement of the early 20th century kinda hot. Hot chicks being all demanding rights and making good arguments and stuff. Look at Genevieve Clark, what a hottie.

Also, from about the same time, Alice Roosevelt was seriously fuckable too.

The Henry Ford Museum (March 26, 2010) (part whatever)

The Henry Ford Museum (March 26, 2010)

Yes, I know, I keep just calling these the same thing. These are separate from the Photo Everyday sets, these are completely new pics while the photo everyday stuff are older shots being reused for fun.

Photo Everyday (003)

I had a dream

The whole of the dream doesn't matter, one line is all that matters. However, the one line doesn't make sense without a set up.

So, some aliens land right? And they look human, right? And in my dream I was part of a group that was going to work with them to help integrate them or something, right?

Okay, so we're having this ceremony where we go over and meet the aliens for the first time and the aliens have corporate welcome packs. You’ve seen lately how they sell rolled up t-shirts tucked and rubber banded inside of ball caps? They're handing those out to us as a welcome to their side. Annnd they're pink. That doesn't matter, but I wonder where my brain is taking this. Anyway, that is the set up for the line. Now, here is the line.

I take my cap and shirt and look down at it and say "Thanks. I feel sort of bad now, all we brought to give you was syphilis." To which the alien girl cocks her head and says "What's that?" And I say "You'll find out."

That has to end up in a story somewhere. I mean, it can’t NOT end up in a story.

Photo Everyday (002)

The Henry Ford Museum (March 26, 2010)

It occurs to me that the Henry Ford Museum I photograph is not the museum you see.

Photo Everyday (001)

One photo

New Review

Over on the other side of the fence, I've got my review for Kikujiro up and posted. I'm pretty happy with the review, even though it took me forever to get it written. Even though it was hard to get what I wanted said, I'm fairly pleased with the result.

Eight Photos

I forget if these have been posted here before or not. They're still nice though, even if they are a repost.

Jack & Jill (Part Twelve)

Jack & Jill (A Love Story)

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Read last week’s entry here.

Part Twelve: Jack’s Ride Home

 

            In hindsight, I probably should have been more concerned about the position I woke up in. I didn’t bother taking my clothes off when we got into the hotel room, opting to just strip off my suit jacket and socks before crawling into the bed. I rarely sleep well in a hotel room, but that time I had no trouble at all. I had dropped off almost as soon as I hit the pillow. It had been a long day, and I hadn’t slept well before the long night started. I was impressed that I managed to undo my top two buttons and untuck my shirt before collapsing.

 

            When I woke up, I was still dressed the same, but I wasn’t alone. Somewhere in the night, while I presumably snored loud enough to shake the air conditioner loose, I gained a sleeping companion. I woke to find a girl tucked under my arm and her back pressed against my chest. I’m not sure how exactly it happened, but at some point she had crawled out of her bed and crawled into mine. I raised my head up to confirm that I was in fact still in the bed I’d started in and it wasn’t me that moved.

 

            I probably should have thought more about that, but at the time I rather thought that she was just scared or something. I tapped her on the shoulder with my fingers as I sat up, which caused her to turn a pair of bright blue eyes at me. She was cute, and as I have a cousin about her age I sort of thought of her in that vein. In fact, I know someone my age with a daughter about her age so I could have thought of her in that way too, but less successfully.

 

            “Hmm?” She half vocalized.

 

            “Morning.” I said sliding off the bed. “Time to get up.”

 

            “Hrmgingle.” She replied.

 

            “You can probably sleep while I shower.” I told her and took my bag into the small bathroom with me.

 

            I don’t particularly like hotel bathrooms, but I was going to have to use this one so I gritted my teeth, grabbed a tiny soap, and cleaned as well as I could. I didn’t even remember to pack my own shampoo and so had to use the little bottles of whatever it was they had on hand. It was lilac scented, which always reminds me of my grandmother’s bathroom in Flat Rock. She doesn’t even live in Flat Rock anymore, but the association of lilac and grandma’s bathroom will never die.

 

            I managed to clean myself up though, and leave enough cleaning products behind for Jill to use. Fortunately there were two bottles of shampoo and two of conditioner, and I managed only to use half of the one I had. I took my time, to give her a few extra minutes of sleep. I’ve often though about packing a plastic Ziploc bag when I go on the road, so that when I’m in a strange shower I can have the Marley in the shower with me. I suppose its part of the paranoia that the shrinks keep telling me about, I say it’s just safety.       

           

            I didn’t need one as it turned out, but that only proves that people think I might have one with me. I dried myself off, slowly, making sure that I was actually dry before I got dressed. I’d included a clean pair of socks and undies with the few things I’d grabbed with my shaving kit from the trunk of the car on our way in. I’d managed to make myself look human again, even if I was going to be wearing the same suit for a second day in a row. That’s okay though, I can handle that, I’m a tough guy after all.

 

            I came out of the bathroom and found her sitting upright on the bed. She smiled at me and managed her way to the bathroom without help or comment. Her back pack that she had with her accompanied her into the room, and I sat and waited. I was torn between the idea of getting out on the road and having some breakfast sent up. I then checked my cell phone and found that there was only one call from Alice and that it was ten after twelve. Alice didn’t leave a message, but as she’d only called a few hours ago I decided that I probably could interrupt her. Maybe she would tell me that they caught Cole, that would be nice.

 

            I hit the buttons that made this ridiculous hand held machine try and connect to another of its species. I waited, as the sound of the shower turning on came through the closed door. The phone made a sort of ringing sound, that might make you think that there was actually a bell at the other end. I listened to the ring, waiting for the voice mail to pick up and explain that the person I was looking for wasn’t there. What I got was a click and then an answer.

 

            “Hi Jack.” Alice’s voice came through clearly and cheerfully.

 

            “Hi.” I said. “How are we doing?”

 

            “Are you on the road yet?” She asked, and remembered my endless paranoia. “I mean, are you still at the hospital?”

 

            “We’re not still at the hospital.” I told her, paranoia still in tact.

 

            “They haven’t found King yet, but we’re thinking he probably went back to his place in Texas.” She told me. “I appreciate the help you gave us, but you’ve probably caused a lot of people a lot of trouble. I don’t know how your client will feel about you when you get back.”

 

            “I can handle it.” I told her. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s not my fault if the people pulling felonious pranks under his nose are so stupid. Besides, I am bringing his daughter back.”

 

            “I hope so.” She told me. “Give me a call when you’re home. I’ll come visit you.”

 

            “Okay.” I said. “I’ll do that.”

 

            We said our goodbyes and hung up, leaving me feeling alone and tired again. I shouldn’t have felt tired, because I’d just woken up and had an invigorating shower. The problem was that I wasn’t where I wanted to be, I wasn’t doing what I wanted to be doing, and I wasn’t with who I wanted to be with. I could have it all worked out in about three days if I wanted to, but clearly I didn’t want to. I heard the water shut off and sat down to watch the dust collect on the dark wood of the hotel dresser as the sun shone through the window.

 

            A few minutes passed, then a few minutes more, and I started to wonder if she’d done something that would cause difficulty when the door opened and she emerged. She didn’t look nervous, or scared, but alive and vivacious. Her bright eyes sparkled and she smiled widely when she came out.

 

            “Morning!” She said as she rubbed her hair with a towel. “Can we get some breakfast?”

 

            “Sure.” I told her, “What would you like?”

 

            “Oh, anything.” She announced. “I’m positively famished.”

 

            There was a small chain place connected to the hotel, so we availed ourselves of that. I was trying to decide how to approach her, since I hate looking like someone who keeps people at arms reach when we’re at a table together. The problem was, I wasn’t sure what I could talk to her about that we’d both have in common. The last time I liked a band that was popular it was because Blues Traveler suddenly got big after I’d been a fan of them for three albums already, and everyone was willing to admit that was a fluke for me. As I was sitting there, trying to decide how best to break the ice without bringing up current events, she came in like one of those big ships that they send in to open up shipping lanes in winter. 

 

            “Do you ever watch old movies?” She asked over her menu as we got settled.

 

            “I suppose it depends on how you classify old.” I said, wondering if I was about to get treated to the idea that Raiders of the Lost Ark was an ancient classic.

 

            “You know, like the stuff they show on the classic cable networks.” She looked at me. “You look like someone who watches a lot of movies where Robert Ryan plays the heavy.”

 

            It was impressive enough to find that she knew who Robert Ryan was, but even more impressive that we were going to agree that movies older than my father were what she qualified as old. I leaned back and looked at the menu for a while, trying not to smile too much. I was also trying hard to decide what sort of thing I would be eating this afternoon that I thought was morning.

 

            “I wouldn’t say that it’s all I watch.” I told her. “I have however always liked the style of the pre-war era and the just post-war era.”

 

            “But not the fifties?” She asked, smiling what she probably thought was a cute little twist on her mouth. It was cute, but she needed to aim it at a fifteen year old. Or rather, she needed not to use it until she was about nineteen. If she managed things right, she would be able to knock men out of their chairs at fifty yards with that smile in five years.

 

            “Not really a fan of the fifties.” I told her.

 

            “I thought so.” Her smile became superior. She set the menu down and leaned on the table with her arms crossed in front of her. I suspect she had seen that motion in one of those movies she was talking about and wanted to try it out. She smiled up at me and was examining me from that spot. “Your car is just this side of not being the fifties.”

 

            “The car was a gift.” I told her. “But it was given to me because I liked it best.”

 

            “Someone gave you that car?” She looked shocked, as I supposed she should have been. “Why would some guy give you such a great car?”

 

            “Well it wasn’t some guy.” I told her. “The person who gave me the car was trying to make up for something that happened between us.”

           

            “Oh, I see.” She nodded in a knowing way that she’d probably seen on TV. “A woman gave you the car.”

 

            “Well.” I couldn’t exactly explain why, but I felt like wriggling. “Yes. She had hired me to do something for her and it turned out badly.”

 

            “What happened?” She put her fists under her chin in another imitative movement.

 

            “My car was destroyed, things went wrong, and she gave me the car to try and make up for it.” I said, trying to avoid painful details.

 

            “But you still dress like one of those guys in one of those movies.” She commented. “You wear a hat like Jimmy Cagney.”

 

            “Actually, I wear a hat like Dick Tracy, only I got a different color.” I told her. “Good thing too, if The Shadow movie had come out first I’d have bought a huge wide brimmed hat and a red scarf and then I’d look silly.”

 

            It was a pretty good line, and it got a good laugh out of her. The waitress came and took out orders, giving us a natural break in the conversation. The conversation after that was roughly along the same lines, only we talked about what each of us liked about the pre-war fashions and how the post war fashions just didn’t work as well.

 

            It wasn’t like talking to a young teenager, it was like talking to an adult, and that worried me a little. Not that she spoke more maturely than I was prepared for, but because I found myself wanting to tell her. I managed to catch myself before saying it because of a big red flag and whooping alarm bells in my head when I caught myself thinking it. What I do know about sexual predators is that this is one of their favorite phrases. It’s an easy thing to flatter a child by telling them that they speak better than expected and considering recent history I wanted to stay away from that sort of comment.

 

            We finished our breakfast, which as I’ve said was actually lunch, and got in the car and began out ride home. While riding we talked more about books and history, which was pleasant. I sort of wished I’d met a girl like her when I was her age, I would have had a better time knowing someone like her. She hadn’t gotten to the point of trying to cover up being smart, being ashamed of liking something that not everyone was into, and that was a nice change.

 

            We drove along the road, heading north, with the windows down and the stereo playing music that was older than both of us put together. It made me think that maybe I needed to call Liberty, ask her about the idea of taking Jenicia on a trip to a museum or something. It might not be terrible to have a daughter around, just someone to take places and try to show new sights. I sort of thought that I would have to call Liberty when I got home, discuss it with her and see how they felt about it.

 

In which I talk about art again.

I'm pretty sure I've said this before, but I'm going to say it again.

When taken as a group William-Adolphe Bouguereau's paintings feel reeeeally creepy. I mean look at Thirst. Not so bad right? Now look at The Young Shepherdess and then La Frileuse then Cupidon. Now look at Thirst again. CREE to the PEE!

Sadly,one of his paintings, The Nut Gatherers happens to be a favorite of mine. It's the wallpaper on both my computers right now. It's not helped that I have given it the subtitle "Young Lesbians in Love" due to the looks those two are giving each other.

I should have just stuck with Bruegel (Pieter the Elder that is) for my painting enjoyment. There is no creepy sexual subtext to The Triumph of Death or in Mad Meg. There is just pure unadulterated awesome.

Not what I wanted to see

Out of all the phrases I didn't ever think I would hear/read, "I'll suck your dick for a chimichanga!" coming from a robot ranks among some of the more disturbing. Thanks internet, you've ruined everything forever... again.

Five Things I'm Fascinated By

When was the last time I did a five things list? Last month it seems. Well, let's do another one okay? Let's do this one!

1. Unexplained oddities. I like a mystery, and I like things to be odd. I could have picked a lot of things, but I went with this one Cracked article.

2. Language of the Fan. Yes, I know it was a marketing idea, yes I know it's way more recent than most people know, yes I know it's silly. I don't care. I really love the idea of women using fans to secretly chit-chat.

3. Retrofuturism. There are few things I love so much as having a look back and seeing what people thought the world was going to be like. I prefer serious attempts at futurism rather than those made for entertainment. Star Trek is neat and all, but I really dig seeing how scientist who knew what they were talking about thought we'd live.

4. Women. What? I happen to find the thoughts and ideas of women to be fascinating. And, yes, on a purely aesthetic level, I also think the female form is interesting and beautiful to look at. Yes, okay fine, I like women on a sexual level as well. Nothing to be ashamed of, I'm a healthy young lad and it does factor as number three behind brains and just looking. Odd as it may sound, I really do like most of you for your minds.

5. Marketing failures. Let's just go down a list of some of my favorites... OK Soda, Crystal Pepsi, New Coke, Arch Deluxe and of course, Premier cigarettes. Yes, that last one isn't really a marketing failure because Premiers never really made it to the market, but it goes so well with the rest of the list.

Movies are a comin'

A movie version of the comic book The Extraordinary Adventures of Adele Blanc-Sec is going to hit France soon. It looks interesting and I will have to keep an eye out for it when it hits here.

Look at the trailer.

Hipster Score

Point system

I’ve had an idea, I just need to work on it a little.

What if, right, you gave people points on how much of a hipster they were. Yuppie, goth, indie, scenester, hippie, or whatever kink or group you’re talking about, they could all have point system.

A facial piercing, that’s five points. A tattoo that’s visible in normal outfits, that’s a five points each. A point for every can of Pabst Blue Ribbon they consume every day and another for every cupcake they eat. Four points for known an obscure local band, six if they actually have a recording contract and ten if it’s on a label that nobody has ever heard of. If it’s a known label that has a presence, you actually start to loose points. Likewise, if anyone else has heard this band mentioned anywhere even remotely mainstream you dip into the negative points there. You’d also loose points for having more than the bear minimum of furniture and amenities. Every extra chair looses you two points.

Eventually, you could work out everyone’s hipster score. This isn’t percentage you’re working on here. You’ll never reach pure 100% Hipsterificness. You just keep racking up points like in Pac-Man. I guess at a certain level you’d just fill the bar with 999999999, but you’d have to be a pretty egregious piece of hipsterdom to achieve that level.

OR!

After a while you could turn those hipster points in for valuable prizes. Maybe after 3000 hipster points you can get a copy of some incredibly obscure local band’s only album on vinyl or something. You know, one of those groups that only existed long enough to get into the studio and cut six songs before they broke up again? Yeah, one of those.

I'll need to work out how the metrics on that would work. I'm going to go ahead and assume they won't.

Unhelpful turtle can't help you

Jack & Jill (Part Eleven)

Jack & Jill (A Love Story)

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

 

Read last week’s entry here.

 

Part Eleven: Hospital

 

            I had Alice call ahead, and I even got a three car escort to make sure we got to the hospital unmolested. At least the car was unmolested, I sort of had a feeling that as far as my young charge went, unmolested would be a poor choice of words. I had to drive around the back to the emergency room and more or less allow the police to get Jill admitted. Since I was with them though I was more or less regarded as one of them. When the doctor came, a nice reassuring woman who’s name tag informed me that she was Dr. Muffit, I pulled her aside for a chat.

 

            “She’s a kidnapping victim.” I told her.

 

            “Yes.” She nodded. “One of the other officers told me. Is there something else officer?”

 

            “I’m a private dick out of Michigan.” I told her. “I got her away from the guy who kidnapped her. I would like to know if there was sexual contact if it was violent.”

 

            “Do you mean that you want to know if she was raped?” She asked, her hazel eyes searching mine, which is a waste because I couldn’t have shown anything if I wanted to, tired as I was.

 

            “Legally if he had sex with her, then it was rape anyway.” I said. “I suppose morally it was too. But yeah. I want to know if he forced her.”

 

            “Does it matter?” She slipped her hand into the pocket of her white coat and leaned back against the counter.

 

            “It does to me.” I told her. “I’ve got a bet going with the index finger of my right hand. It says that I should have let it pull the trigger and save us all a lot of trouble. I maintain that you can’t shoot a man without knowing that you should. Optimally you shouldn’t shoot someone unless they’re actively trying to kill you at that very moment.”

 

            “Was he a friend of yours?”

 

            “No.” I shook my head. “If I believed in shooting people on general principal I’d put him pretty near the front of the list.”

 

            “So you won’t be making any excuses for him?”

 

            “Hell no.” I said. “If he touched her, he deserves to go down for it. I’m just trying to decide how hard and how personal it should be.”

 

            “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll find out.”

 

            “Thanks.”

 

            There was a knock at the door and one of the large jovial men that were serving as nurses tonight poked his head in.

 

            “We’re ready Dr. Muffit.”

 

            “Okay, I’ll be there in a moment.” She looked to me after turning away from him. “Are you okay? Do you need anything for nerves or anything?”

 

            “I’m fine.” I shook my head. “Just take care of her.”

 

            “Okay.” She turned away and we both walked out of the room together.

 

            One of the local cops, a well put together looking guy called Belsin approached us. He looked like he’d been sealed in plastic immediately after coming out of an injection molding machine in Flint. If there was a hair out of place on him, I couldn’t see it. I didn’t feel anywhere near as slick and cool as he looked.

 

            “I suppose at some point I need to talk to you about a statement.” Belsin said looking over me. “You want to try to give me?”

 

            “I suppose I could if you could get a stenographer I can give it a try.”

 

            “I’ve got one coming.” He looked at me, and tilted his head as if trying to decide something. “I heard a bit about you.”

 

            “Did you?”

 

            “Yeah.” He said. “And then I called a guy I know in Detroit who got me in touch with a guy in Troy named Crammer.”

 

            “Possibly one of my biggest fans.” I said.

 

            “Yeah?” Belsin asked. “What do people who aren’t your fans say about you?”

 

            “That killing me on the side of the road is too good for me.” I told him.

 

            “So that thing a year ago was some people who felt indifferent about you?”

 

            “Actually, one of them really liked me.” I considered Amy Heart. “I have an effect on people.”

 

            “I’ll bet.” He remained impassive and impeccable the whole time. I sort of wanted to rub his hair, just to see if he’d shoot me as a result. However, it’d been a long time since I’d been shot and I had no intention of being shot again. “You want to tell me what happened today then? Just quick before the stenographer gets here? Crammer said you can probably be trusted just about as far as I could fling you with one arm, but no farther.”

 

            “See?” I said, as if that confirmed everything I’d said since my first word. “One of my biggest fans.”

 

            I had nothing to do for a while, at least until Jill was done being examined. I sat down opened the bag and turned it over, reserving only the strange conversation I had with Piper. Something was off about that talk, but I had woken him up at one in the morning so perhaps that was all it was. I told them everything else though, and it was a little depressing if I do say so.

 

            You always kind of think that criminals are going to be some kind of cool master minds, laughing at you from behind their poker faces. What you don’t expect is to ask two questions and stumble over a human trafficking program. He’d been supplying a dozen of Piper’s operations with people, and scamming them all. As far as I could see the only thing that made the story more interesting beyond that night was that Cole had escaped. Otherwise, it looked all sewn up with everyone in the world in trouble except for me. I was getting tired though, and I didn’t care anymore about any of that. I had what I’d come for and I would just as soon have gone home. Still I had to get her back from the hospital and for that I had to talk to Doctor Muffit again.

 

            I sat down with her in the abandoned hospital commissary, looking over what must have been a mug of coffee only because no one actually serves motor oil in hospitals. I was putting enough sugar and cream in it to make toffee candy, but that’s because I don’t drink coffee much. She grabbed it for me and it seemed rude not to drink it. I’ve found though that if I put enough sugar and cream in it, I can manage.

 

            “Well?” I asked as she sat down with a container of cottage cheese.

 

            “She’s not pregnant, thank god. There is some slight bruising.” She said taking a dainty mouthful. “But I wouldn’t suggest that it’s anything more than enthusiasm of an older man with a girl who is far too young for him. It could be from rape, but it could be inexperience. She said he didn’t rape her, but he scared her so much that I would say a rape charge could easily be leveled. Did you talk to her about it?”

 

            “No.” I shook my head.  “There hasn’t been much time. What with one thing and another I’ve hardly said twenty words to her.”

 

            “Really?” She seemed a little surprised at my answer. “I got the idea she’s known you for a while. She thinks you hung the moon and stole fire from the gods. She said she knew you were coming to rescue her.”

 

            “She probably means she knew her father would send someone to get her.” I waved it away. “I’ve honestly never met her before tonight.”

 

            “She’s traumatized.” She said, putting a hand to a tired brow and rubbing at sinuses. “Be careful with her, she may attach significance to you.”

 

            “Does she need any kind of medication or anything?” I asked.

 

            “I could give her a sedative, but probably what she needs is distance from this place and a few good meals.”

 

            “Meals?” I asked.

 

            “She hasn’t been eating right since she was kidnapped.” Muffit stirred her cottage cheese with the metal spoon that was just too cheaply made to steal. I happened to notice the lack of a wedding ring on her finger, but didn’t want to comment on it. “He hasn’t been feeding her much since he got her, and he hasn’t been feeding her the right things. She’ll need to get on a proper diet, and get some exercise.”

           

            “Okay.” I nodded my head, feeling the weariness all at once and sighing deeply. I was about to ask another question, when she jumped up and made a sound that can only be written as Euughah! I jumped and reached for her out of instinct. “What?”

 

            “Spider.” She pointed at something that could have maybe gotten from one edge of a dime to the other with its legs spread out as far as they could go. I took a business card from my pocket and got the spider to walk on it. I then flicked the card away, sending the spider flying.

 

            “Okay?” I asked.

 

            “Yeah.” She said sitting down. “Thank you.”

 

            “So, will she be okay?” I tired asking again.

 

            “I think so.” She nodded, still breathing heavily. “She’ll need to see a therapist, you probably need to make sure that she sees a real gynecologist as well.”

 

            “I’m not her father.” I told her, and extended my hands. “I’m only the guy who came down here to get her. If you give me as much information as you legally can, I’ll make sure her parents get it and I’ll make sure that they understand their daughter needs to see the right people. As for me though, my job is more or less over when I drop her off.”

 

            “Sorry.” She smiled and blushed a little. “It’s the way she kept talking about you. She really thinks she’s known you for longer than you do.”

 

            “She’s younger.” I told her, while stirring the coffee. “She’s not used to the fact that people come and go yet.”

 

            “Just be careful with her, okay?” She asked. “She might attach more significance to you being nice to her than you do. She’s vulnerable and she’s been through a lot.”

 

            “I’ll take care of her.” I smiled, trying to reassure, wondering why she was hammering this point. “I will treat her like she’s my own kid sister.”

 

            “Okay.” She laughed, finished her cheese and then looked at her watch. “We can probably release her now. Are you taking her home tonight?”

 

            “I’ll probably take her to a hotel first.” I said. “Get some sleep and get going in the morning.”

 

            “That’s probably wise.” She nodded. “Let’s go get her released then.”

 

            It didn’t take as long as it should have to get Jill out of the hospital and away from official eyes. However, probably everyone was tired and wanted to go have a look at their beds and see if it looked like they remembered it. We wheeled Jill out to the car, I helped her into the front seat and we drove away. She didn’t say much beyond thank you and okay a few times. She looked tired, she looked almost done in, and I suppose so did I.

 

            “I think we’ll grab a room and just get some sleep.” I told her.

 

            “Okay.” She said and nodded at me.

 

            There wasn’t any more conversation between us that night, and pretty soon it was clear why. Small snoring sounds came from her a few minutes into the ride. I got a few counties away from where we started and found a hotel to stay at. I didn’t carry her up to the room, but I did help her as she stumbled along. With my two day growth and exhausted face, I probably looked old enough to be her father and I claimed her as my daughter on the form.

 

            It was a simple room, two full beds, a desk and a dresser if we wanted to use it. I put the do not disturb sign on the door, put her in one bed, and lay down myself on the other. I don’t know of anything that happened after that though, because in a rare change of form for me, I dropped off almost on the instant.

 

More Fish

Spring Fish