I'm waiting to welcome the new age.

The story of the peahen and peababies

So, as you are no doubt aware, the Detroit Zoo has peafowl. They're not particularly kept, they just sort of run around the zoo. This isn't an odd thing, I've been to other zoos that also have them. Peafowl are pretty easy to take care of, and so long as you don't mind the noise (oh the noise, noise, noise, noise!) they're a neat addition to the whole experience. They just sort of roam around the place, waiting for someone to notice that they look and awful lot like turkeys with a thing for musical theater and decide to try and liven up thanksgiving.

I’ve often wondered if they buy birds, or if they get them the natural way. Well, I’ve discovered that they get at least some of them the natural way. There will be better pictures of the babies later, right now I want to talk about why peahens will never get mother of the year…

Going again

New Toy

Did I mention we got a zoom lense for the pentax? Well, we did. Now all I need is a good Macro lense and a bag and I should be all set for any eventualities.

Dinos at the Detroit Zoo

Clouds

And now, another sorry attempt to get you to compliment my photographic skills.

How can you tell a hipster?

Today my friends, if I may address you as such, I saw a hilariously sad thing.

I saw a young man stroke his stupid mustache, and then run his fingers through his hair. That's not the funny bit. He had one of those 70s throwback hair cuts, and with the facial hair, he looked like he was cosplaying how Luke Skywalker might look as a child molester. Again, not the funny bit.

After the hair work, he wiped his hands on his skinny jeans and patted down his t-shirt. The shirt was one of those with a font that just screams "70s!" and said "Nazi Rape is Hilarious" and of course the I in Nazi was dotted with a small flower. Again, not the funny bit. He then adjusted his Buddy Holly-esque glasses and then rubbed his fresh tattoo from what looked to me like a really, really obscure band that I'd probably never heard of.

This is the funny bit.

While sticking his thumbs into his studded belt, he turned to his friend and said "I can't be a hipster, I don't like Pabst Blue Ribbon. Oh look! They've got cupcakes!"

One of these things is not like the other

Pick something, resize it, use it as your wallpaper... or don't. Hell, I'm not some internet tyrant.

It’s Happened Again (Part Six)

Wow! This sounds so familiar!

We’re young people right? Some are teenagers, some are in our twenties, but not many of us are over thirty. Okay, there’s that one grizzled veteran… but still.

So! Young people? Right? And we’re fighting an empire or a corporation, or some faceless system. And they’ve got technology and guns and stuff. And we’ve got magic and love, yeah? Oh, and one or two of our side used to be on their side. Yeah, got that?

So, then there’s these giant chickens we all ride, and those little white winged teddy bear looking things, and the less said about the ambulatory cacti the better.

I don’t know… this just all feels very familiar. You sure this has never happened to us before? On this world before? Somewhere else? Sometime else? Maybe? So this is the last one of these for our world? Okay.

But it still feels awfully familiar.

Let's talk about sexy music

Cast a Spell by The Rippingtons is an unrelentingly sexy song. I know because Jim Fucking Morrison told me.



You should buy Let It Ripp!, but don't buy their greatest hits album, which is for housewives and little girls. Listen to it everyday for a month. Then you should steal a car, get in it, listen to this album at full blast. When the CD ends, grab the first sexy person you see and have sex with them. After that... you're gonna be a Doors fan... strangely. Not sure why you won't be a Rippingtons fan, but Jim was never really all that clear on details whenever I've talked to him.

Let's talk about sexy music

Cast a Spell by The Rippingtons is an unrelentingly sexy song. I know because Jim Fuicking Morrison told me.



You should buy Let It Ripp!, but don't buy their greatest hits album, which is for housewives and little girls. Listen to it everyday for a month. Then you should steal a car, get in it, listen to this album at full blast. When the CD ends, grab the first sexy person you see and have sex with them. After that... you're gonna be a Doors fan... strangely. Not sure why you won't be a Rippingtons fan, but Jim was never really all that clear on details whenever I've talked to him.

Unlocked Achievement: Posted Pictures

It’s Happened Again (Part Five)

He’s done it again, I don’t understand how he keeps control to be honest. Why is there no revolution? Why do they keep letting him do this? Why do I have to be the one cleaning up after him? Yes, there are my cousins, but it all falls to me if anything goes wrong. My father is a stupid bully, and an irresponsible ruler. He constantly belittles everyone, abuses us all, never relents. I’d kill him myself, but I am so tiny compared to him. So very, very small.

So, here I am, gathering all the things he scattered. Trying, once again, to put things back to how they were before. Making a shoddy recreation out of whatever junk I can find laying around these places. People run and scream when they see me coming, because they know I’m helpless to stop this process and if they get caught they’ll become part of the project. I can hear their screams, even now, their terrible screams. Every time they get stuck and can’t pull away, they scream. Entire buildings of screaming people, whole cities gathered up and scooped away. The screams stay with me, I can never block out the screams.

I have no choice though. I have to do this for him. He destroys and I’m forced to rebuild. Gathering materials through the cruelest and least efficient method. Roll the ball, get whatever sticks to the ball, make other things stick, gather up everything. I don’t know how long I can keep doing this, but unless I want to be the king of a kingdom that no longer exists, I have to do this for my own legacy. I’m trapped here, unable to stop but not willing to go on. I have to do this, but I can’t keep destroying other worlds to make up for his madness. There has to be an end, if for no other reason than to end that stupid little muttered song that the mummers sing to themselves after madness has taken them.

Let's Make a Deal

I'll make a deal with you kids.

You lay off and let me get back to things at my own pace, and I won't kill you in ways that would make a cenobite squirm.

Have we got a deal there?

Because, seriously, the next motherfucker that points me in the direction of one of those "If you're not writing and publishing RIGHT THIS SECOND then you need to give up on the idea of being a writer" posts is going to find me swinging a tire thumper at them.

Allow me to explain something, I used to write all the time. I've got more drafts and redrafts than I have DVDs and I've got a lot of DVDs. The problem is, about three years ago, everything stopped working. Not just writing, everything. I must have lost about half the people I ever knew to death, moving and the inevitable changes of age. I'm not talking about vague relatives I almost never saw, or friends who were sort of on the outer edges. Close friends, close family. Lots of deaths, lots of leaving, and lots not being there for me anymore when they always had been in the past. A relationship that had been working pretty well suddenly stopped, then faltered, and then fell to the ground shattering into a million pieces. That sort of fucked everything that wasn’t already fucked, so… yeah, not the best three years ever.

Now, over the last year I've been trying to pick up the pieces, but it's been going damn slow and every slip on the track feels like sliding back to the start. So yeah, I haven't produced much writing in the last two years. Yeah, I've stalled on submitting the work I do have or even getting it edited into a shape where it can be submitted. I know I've been suddenly stopping projects that people were just getting into and halted on really interesting ideas before they got very far. I do apologize for that, because I like it when you are entertained by my works, however you must understand this has been a difficult time.

I've been busy trying to not throw myself off a bridge, is that a good enough reason? Do you suppose that maybe I could be cut a little, tiny bit of slack for that? Ya think? Maybe?

Your patience and understanding during this period is greatly appreciated.

It’s Happened Again (Part Four)

My knuckles are bloody
My jaw is sore
My muscles ache
None of that matters now
Because a challenger has appeared
I’ve fought people from all over the world
Who use every conceivable martial arts style
And so far I’ve beaten them all
I’m so tired
But I can’t stop now
Not when I’m so close
Just one more bought
One more fight
Maybe then I can quit
And then another challenger appears
And I know I’ll never get out of this vicious cycle
None of that matters now
Because we’ve been told to fight.

It’s Happened Again (Part Three)

This all feels so familiar. Every time I swing this wooden sword, and cut another weed, I feel like I’ve done this before. It’s like I’ve lived this life a dozen times, like I’ve always done this. I knew the old man was going to tell me it was dangerous to go alone, even before he spoke. I can tell exactly what throwing a boomerang will feel like. I can already tell you how to play a musical instrument I’ve never actually seen.

I know there is a girl, and a wizard and… some sort of triangle made up of triangles that are probably made up of smaller triangles like some sort of triangular fractal. I know there are things out there that I must face, with names like keese and moblins. Different incarnations showing up over and over again. It’s like a pattern, a fractal again. No matter how long or how deep, you keep getting the same thing. I will have to save a kingdom that I have saved countless times already.

There will be friends, horses and old men mostly, but still friends. I’ll need to gather hearts and pixies in jars. And rupees, I’ll be getting a lot of those little gems to weigh down my pockets before this is over. There will be bows, arrows, bombs, swords and that girl. I can’t get that girl out of my head.

It’s important that I do this, I have to keep the cycle going, other wise the nation is lost. Can’t let the nation be lost, I live here. Well, I live in the forest, because I’ve always lived in the forest, but the forest is part of the nation and the nation is ruled by… that girl. I’ve got to do this, got to save the world, stop the evil again as I have always done.

Either I’m a lunatic, or I am this world’s eternal champion. Either way, I’ve got to go save the day again, and all I know is that it’s dangerous to go alone.

It’s Happened Again (Part Two)

How long have I been out?
Good gravy, I’m hungry.
Okay, so… I’m in the maze again.
Hungry.
Are those food pellets?
Why is there a path of pellets?
I’m going see those floating cherries and bananas again soon.
Gotta eat something.
Food pellets the only thing on offer.
Oh crap.
The Maze is haunted too.
That’s nice.
That’s really nice.
Time to run.
Maybe there are still those big pellets.
The ones that look like eight balls.
The ones that help me fight the ghosts.
Just gotta keep moving.
Gotta keep eating.
Gotta get the place cleared.
So I can do it all over again.

It’s happened again. (Part One)

They came running, telling me that she’s gone. Once again, stolen right out from under their noses. I keep trying to walk away, keep trying to leave, but these things keep happening. I know it’ll happen again, that’s why I can’t leave, that’s why they won’t let me leave. Oh sure, they provide amenities, like any good prison. Go Carts, Golf, Tennis, and those bizarre game tournaments they keep organizing. But let’s be honest, I’m a prisoner here, kept until it happens again.

My poor brother, he’s gotten so thin, so gaunt, hardly a shadow of himself anymore. His nerves are getting to him, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He thinks I don’t see his hand shaking, but I can see what the strain is doing to him. If I could get him out of here, I would. I already take most the “missions” myself, acting as the sole agent for this so called kingdom.

If only they’d listen to me about security, if only they’d give a damn about prevention, but they don’t. They only care about returning things to the status quo. Go out there, get her back. Never mind the trauma, never mind that she must be in on these “kidnappings” and never mind the strain on your self and your family… just put on the blue overalls and go get her back. Sometimes of course I have to dress as a raccoon, or a bee, anything to strip away and sense of humanity or dignity I might have been holding on to.

I’d like to avoid the green mushrooms, to grab one of those bombs on legs and not let go, but what would happen to my brother? He can’t take it, he’d snap under the pressure, and I can’t let that happen. So I’ll pull on my white gloves and go do it again. I’ll go find the stupid girl and bring her home. I’ll beat up her captor, who is really her lover and his children as well.

I don’t know who I am anymore, that’s why I had to put my initial on my hat, just to give me an idea. I can hear them at the door, I have to go, because it’s happened again.

feh

The dirtiest word I know is nuts.

When you consider all the times that all the writers who have had to use that word in substitution for others that weren’t available for one reason or another, and thus all the profanity in both thought and deed that have been laid upon it’s shoulders for the last hundred years or so… well it makes cunt-fucker look like something you might use in a church bulletin.

More photos

Guess where I took these pictures

Adventures at work

My favorite people are the people who act like explaining how dire the situation is will make technical problems go away.

Allow me to explain, our machine is currently crippled. My young assistant was… less delicate with it than he could have been and… broke the motherfucker. Not his fault, not really. He was sick, and dealing with the machine when it breaks down is called “Fighting the Dragon” for a reason.

Most people react with disappointment, or if they’re regulars a sigh of resignation, since that fucking thing only works 2 days out of 5. Now, I had come in that day and had a look, cooed softly and waved my hand over the casing while chanting old phrases and crushing herbs into the gears. That got it back on its feet, like usual, because the machine loves me. I understand that it’s like an old and dying dog. It wants to work, but it is sadly on its last legs and it’s time for the shotgun. So it worked for a while.

About an hour later it went down again and this time herbs and chants couldn’t do anything for it. I drew a pentagram on the floor talked with an imp, shot lightning from my fingers, pretended to be a madman, planned the best route into Kira’s stronghold, performed the ancient rites and spoke the incantations of old… nothing. At this point, it was getting late and I was getting frustrated. Also, the machine had bit me on my ring finger and I was bleeding everywhere. So I left to the front counter, where the tape and paper towel are kept for when I need a makeshift bandage. While I’m wrapping and taping my finger and looking at the small pool of blood on the counter, this person shows up. My thoughts where taken from wondering if I could argue the blood was a sacrifice and were put upon getting this extra frustration the fuck out of my face.

Note: All statements from me are what I actually meant while I said very polite things. I can make “Hi there, how are you today?” do the same job as “Get thee the fuck out my face or your skin shall be scored by the blade of my knife and I shall revel in your pain.” However, sometimes you have to know me to get that me and Humpty Dumpty can make words work for us in ways they were never intended.


Me (bleeding): “Sorry, my machine is fuxxored. Can’t do nothin’ right now.”

Them: “But I need these by four!”

Me (Mystified): “I did just speak, right? Four you say? That’s nice. I can’t do anything right now. Verily, my machine doesn’t work. I refer you to my earlier statement, what ended with the word fuxxored.”

Them: “But I have to have these by four! This is IMPORTANT!”

Me (carefully trying not to say what I’m thinking): “Yeah... but… see... the machine… is… um… fucked. Not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but the machine is so fucked that your mom is a normal person by comparison. I can’t just wave a hand and make the bitch work, and I’m not talking about your mom now. I waved my hand earlier, because I command dark forces and that frankly scares my boss shitless. It worked for like five minutes and then went down like your mom being shown a twenty. I have since declared the machine fucked. I now await a man from India who has archaic tools and a direct line to Shiva, and that motherfucker is going to have to make three trips before this things works again.”

Them: “I! NEED! THEM! BY! FOUR!”

Me (giving up): “Well shit, why didn’t you say so? Fuck, if I’d known it was important I’d make the serious technical problem that’s got my boss crying in the office like a little bitch just go away. Hell, I know about having important shit going on. You just go grab me a male child and I’ll cut his throat over the machine in honor of the dark gods that control my evil corporate masters. That done, I’ll call upon great Zugthrulumoomoo to come and make this thing work again. Works faster if you get a first born.*”

Them: “Well, alright then.”

Me (looking at the clock): “Wait a second, it’s like five to four now. Even if the shit was working, there’s no fucking way I could get this done by four anyway.”

Them: “But I need them by four. You should be able to do this by four.”

And at that point, the rest is more or less just profanity and sound effects. Needless to say, blood is shed and naughty words are said. I suppose there was some screaming, and gurgling, I think I remember gurgling. I don’t honestly remember much after that, just a lot of red, then black and when I woke up, I was in Lindisfarne again. That’s okay though, the monks there know me and they let me sit in the ruins until someone came and convinced me to come back.




I would like to point out that 90% of the encounters actually go like this…

Nice Customer: Is your machine working?

Me: No, it’s down again.

Nice Customer: Do you know when it will be working again?

Me: If the gods smile upon us, tomorrow or the next day.

Nice Customer: Okay, I’ll come back Friday.

Me: Or you can try another location.

Nice Customer: No, there’s no rush and I like coming here.

Me: Well, you have a nice day then.

It’s just that other 10% that takes every little difficulty we’re having and acts like we’re doing it deliberately to fuck with them that get me down.




*I’d just like to say that this won’t actually work. If I could get the machine working that easily, I wouldn’t have nearly the number of nose bleeds that fucking thing causes.

Vienna says "Rar"

Mango you glad I didn't say orange?

The Return of Jack Collier (Chapter Thirty-Six)

The Return of Jack Collier

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Last week’s entry can be found here.
 

Chapter Thirty-Six: Running Home

 

            We went that day. I dropped Shiri off at the office, went to the hotel and grabbed my things and we were off. I drove into Reno, where I figured we could get a room without causing too much of a problem. I took a shower in the room and then lay down on the bed for what I thought would be a few moments. It was about seven in the morning when I woke up, with Jill curled up next to me like an oversized kitten. I looked around the room, noticing that things were more or less how I’d left it. Jill had brought up a suit case and another matching bag from the car and had her clothes lying carelessly on them. I got up from the bed, moving carefully so as not to disturb Jill and got dressed.

 

            “Morning.” She said as I pulled my pants on.

 

            “Hey.” I said smiling at her. “Did you have your bags in the trunk or something? I don’t remember packing your stuff.”

 

            “Oh I bought that stuff last night.” She laughed and sat up wearing what I noticed was a silk negligee that was more shadow than garment. No woman should be able to look that good without the aid of Photoshop. It’s not fair to us poor males to look at that and then be expected to think pure thoughts. I was stuck though on her phrase.

 

            “How did you buy it?” I asked. “I did mention not using credit cards, didn’t I?”

 

            “Yes.” She rolled her eyes and stood up from the bed. “I wouldn’t do that.”

 

            She walked over to me and gave me a deeply loving kiss on the mouth. I returned the kiss, because there are things you have to do in the name of customer service. She was warm in the cool room, warm and vibrant and sweetly fragranced. I liked holding her, why should I be even remotely ashamed about that? I’m a healthy young man, well maybe not so young now, but still pretty healthy. She pressed herself against me, and ran soft tipped fingers against my back.

 

            “I never stopped wanting you.” She said as she seemed to wrap herself around me like some sort of feminine putty. “I love you so much. I’ve never really loved anyone else.”

 

            “Okay.” I said, smelling her hair and wanting not to be distracted. I had to push her away so I could talk to her. “We’ll talk about that in a moment. First, how did you pay for this stuff?”

 

            “Oh that?” She laughed, and it sounded like tinkling bells. She then licked her upper lip and that wasn’t doing anything for my concentration. “I just made a killing while you were asleep.”

 

            “Pardon?” I asked.

 

            “These guys think they know how to gamble, but you put a girl in a low cut top in front of them, and they will loose twenty grand for the hope of watching you bed over to get it.” She sat down on the bed and made the most attention grabbing pose she could think of while patting the spot next to her. “Come here beautiful.”

 

            “You made twenty grand?” I asked.

 

            “No.” She shook her head. “I made a hundred and eighty grand. And I got the room comped. Then I got some decent clothes. Not bad huh?”

 

            “Not bad.” I admired.

 

            “Come on.” She said pulling the mist thin top off, “Come take me now. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

 

            Oh the things we independent businessmen will do in the name of customer service. You’ve got to provide these free services though, to loyal repeat customers. I’m not sure how standard the practice of nailing the kidnap victim once you’ve got her safe is for other private eyes, but I seem to have to do it all the time. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, it’s an enjoyable little task really, but it does seem odd how often it happens.

 

            At ten, when we were both done and washed, we checked out of the hotel in Reno and started the long trek across America. Hopefully, while that was happening, a guy who looked like me (only far less handsome) was on his way to Georgia in Debbie’s car. Maybe he was running over small children and dogs to make sure people got the license plate number. And while he was doing that enjoyable task, I was forced to ride cross country with a beautiful girl at my side. I won’t complain though. Well, I will a little.

 

            “You know, you lied to me.” She said as we drove.

 

            “How?” I asked.

 

            “You said I’d outgrow you.” She said rubbing my thigh with her hand. “I never did.”

 

            Shit.

 

            “No?” I asked.

 

            “No.” She said. “I wanted you in me everyday since you left. I kept myself pure for you, ever since you left.”

 

            Oh fuck.

 

            It wasn’t going to be easy to send her back to school if she went on like this. I liked her, but I didn’t love her, and I was sort of full up on girls at the moment. I had quite a busy dance card as it was and another name was just one more name. Even if she was a delight to be with, it was getting crowded.

 

            “I never let a boy touch me.” She said rubbing my thigh with her fingers. “I just stayed pure for you. I cleaned myself out, stayed lean, worked out, got strong.”

 

            “I see that.” I said.

 

            Son of a bitch.

 

            No, not easy to get rid of her. Still, there was hope. I mean even though she was beautiful, she wasn’t bi-sexual beautiful was she? Was she? She was pretty close. I’d already had a morning with her, and I’d never been with anything but bi-sexual girls before. Still though, it wasn’t like she could keep it up if she was straight. And besides, I was living a, whatda call it? Poly lifestyle now, and she’d be too jealous for that.

 

            “I played with girls though, I like playing with girls. We could play with girls together. I wouldn’t mind if there were other girls all the time, so long as I got to have you too.”

 

            Goddamnit!

 

            Well, at least my record was still in tact. That’s me, always looking on the bright side. P.M.A. kids. Positive mental attitude, that’s what you’ve gotta have.

 

            “Are you going to move me into your place when we get home?” She asked as we were driving through the desert.

 

            “I hadn’t planned on it.” I said.

 

            “Why not?” She demanded, sounding a little offended.

 

            “Well, first I’ve got a one room place.” I told her. “And second you’re going to Stanford in the fall.”

 

            “Oh that’s off.” She waved a hand at the suggestion of college. “All I need to do now is make love to you. You’re mine now.”

 

            “Just because you let me into that little slice of heaven between your legs, it doesn’t mean you get to hold ownership.” I said.

 

            “Not really a slice is it?” She asked. “More like a slit, a gate to heaven maybe.”

 

            “The point is my lovely little dear, you’ve got plans, haven’t you?”

 

            “I’m going to live with you and make you happy.” She said.

 

            “No.” I said, probably too sternly. “You need to go to college.”

 

            “You want to get rid of me?” She asked, and if I were smart I’d notice she was getting annoyed. Missing those signs is what got me shot last time.

 

            “Of course not, but school is important.” I said and then I was stupid “Besides, I’m sure your father would like to see you.”

 

            “You’re going to send me back to him?” She suddenly looked on the verge of tears. “You did all this, made me feel safe, just to send me back to him?”

 

            “What’s the matter?” I asked.

 

            “You fucked me, now you’re going to throw me away? You’re going to throw me to him and you want to know what’s the matter? How could you?”

 

            “Slow down.” I said. “I only said you need to go to college. Why don’t you want to go to your father?”

 

            “You’re going to dump me again!” She really was crying now. I pulled the car over to the shoulder and parked. “You’re going to leave me with him like you did before.”

 

            “Back up.” I told her as I slid across and put my arms around her. I noticed my voice dropped into its most reassuring tone when I did this. “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll try to fix it. I can’t help you if you just start throwing anger at me.”

 

            “He used to fuck me.” She started to cry in earnest now and it started to get hard to understand through the sobs. “He’d make me suck him off at first. Made me blow him from the time I was eight. He started to fuck my butt when I turned thirteen, after they took Mom away. After Cole broke me, he started fuck me in the twat too. He said it didn’t matter anymore, because everyone would know it was Cole who did it.”

 

            Mother!

 

            Fucking!

 

            Fuck!

 

            “Oh babe, I’m sorry.” I pulled her face up and kissed her and then held her tight to me. “I am so, so, sorry.”

 

            “You said you’d take me away, take me anywhere I wanted to go, but you didn’t!” She shouted.

           

            “You shot me in the chest.” I said, trying not to sound indignant about it. “I was in a coma for two years. It took another for me to get back to this point physically.”

           

            “No.” She shook her head at me and fixed those sparkling blue eyes on mine. “Cole shot you.”

 

            “No.” I said, trying to sound like I wasn’t blaming her for her actions. “You did.”

 

            “Oh god.” She sobbed again. “I did! Didn’t I?”

 

            “It’s okay.” I said rubbing her shoulder with my hand. “I got better. The point is I couldn’t come save you and I’m sorry.”

 

            “I finally begged enough that Mom was able to send me away to school out here when I turned fifteen.” She went on with the story as if the previous exchange hadn’t happened, which was probably for the best. “He couldn’t come get me anymore. I thought I was safe, but then they came for me.”

 

            “Well, now you are going to be safe.” I told her and kissed to reassure her. “I won’t take you back to him if you don’t want to go.”

 

            “Promise?”

 

            “Promise.” I said. “Where is your mother?”

 

            “She’s still in Switzerland I guess.” She said. “She may have been traded off again by now.”

 

            “Yeah, but she’s got to be, what? Forty? Forty-five? I mean that doesn’t mean she can’t still look good, but as far as trading goes.”

 

            “She’s not forty.” She said. “She’s your age Thirty-two, thirty-three now?”

 

            “Your mother is thirty-three?”

 

            “Yeah.” She said.

 

            “You’re mother isn’t also your sister is she?” I asked, fearing the Chinatown Syndrome. “Because I’m not sure I could take that.”

 

            “No.” She said. “Mom’s dad died in an accident when she was ten. Dad took her in and adopted her. He got her pregnant when she was fourteen, but the blamed it on some drifter. She said he raped her and Dad and some locals killed him. It was dad that got her pregnant though, and he married her when I was about four and she was eighteen.”

 

            “Could you hang on a second, sweetie?” I said sliding across the bench seat toward the driver’s side door so I could get out.

 

            “Where are you going?” She asked.

 

            “I’ve just got to go over to that dead tree for a moment.” I said. “Just wait here and we’ll be off in a moment. You won’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. You can stay with me forever if that’s what you really want.”

 

            “Okay.” She said, looking a little more cheerful. “I love you Jack. I love you so much it hurts.”

 

            “I know.” I said and walked away from the car towards the dead tree.

 

            I’m not exactly proud of the next three minutes. I’m a grown man after all, and a tough guy. I’m supposed to internalize, while looking totally unflappable. However, I was alone with a car and a girl and I figured neither of them was likely to talk. So I had a temper tantrum. I yanked the tree out of the ground and smashed a boulder with it until the tree came apart in my hands and then I started to kick and scream at the rock for a while until I exhausted the limits of that little task. Then I fell to the ground and proceeded to kick and screamed like a two year old for a while. After that, I was calm. I walked back to the car and grabbed a bottle of water to wash my hands and have a drink.

 

            “Jack?” Jill asked.

 

            “Yes dear?” I asked.

 

            “Are you okay?”

 

            “No.” I said. “I am not okay. I’m pretty far from okay. I’ll be okay later, but right now I can’t even see okay with a telescope.”

 

            “Oh.” She said, cringing a little in the seat.

 

            “But I tell you what.” I said sitting down in the car. “You tell me more about playing with girls and we’ll see if that doesn’t cheer me up, okay?”

 

            “Sure Jack.” She smiled at that, because she thought it might excite or delight me. Mostly it was a pleasant distraction from the thoughts I was having about choking Peter Piper to death with a jar of his own pickled peppers.

 

A Few Pictures