Monday, September 30, 2013
"Roger Dodger says Dree is not an addict, Stan. But damn, that boy is a mess."
"He's a hacker, Mom. The lack of something to hack is driving him nuts. And his woman is in Philly--"
"Blah, blah, blah. So give him something to hack then. There's that wild bamboo in the corner of the lot. Let him go obliterate that."
"Not the same thin--"
Dree came out of the bedroom where he had been giving Majestic the first of many daily kitty head rubs. He adjusted his glasses and blinked in the early morning sunlight.
"There's an axe and a saw in the gardening shed. Take whatever other tools you think you need too. You know that wild bamboo in the back corner?"
"It all has to be rooted out."
Dree nodded again and headed for the backdoor.
"You've got to keep him busy, Stan. Or he will go nuts inside his head."
Stan sighed. It was no use arguing with his mother. Once she got a notion, she didn't let go of it ever.
~ to be continued ~
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
~Several Days Later~
It was wonderful to talk with you the other day. I'm glad to hear that your pregnancy is progressing smoothly. How I wish I could see you and hold you and feel the baby kick inside of you. Our son!
I'm not sure that I want to name the baby Stanley Kenneth. It's awkward to say. I'm not sure I like that damn Stan too much. He won't let me near any computers. And his mother keeps dragging me to "open" meetings of dopers. I kept telling anyone who would listen that I'm not an addict. I had a bad time when you left me in Newark. I didn't know you were pregnant and I didn't know it was mine. Finally, some old coot named Roger Dodger cornered me and took me out for coffee one night. I told him the whole story-- that damn Stan and his scary mother both said I ought to. Apparently he swore an oath or something. Oh, that's right. He is a priest. Seal of the confessional or something like that. I don't ever want him to babysit little Eduardo. Only kidding about that part. A bad joke. Rodger Dodger is an Episcopalian priest and he lives with his lover. And no, he doesn't like kids in that way. Well, the point is, Rodger Dodger carefully explained to Stan and his mum that I'm not an addict. Even so, that damn woman insists on taking me to open Narcotics Anonymous meetings. "Shut up and listen," she told me, "Listen to learn and learn to listen." A couple of times a week there is a meeting of families and friends of dopers at the same time. She insists I go to that too. And they got me all the literature. I've read all the N.A. stuff plus all the C.O.D.A. stuff too.
I've been calling the baby Eduardo in my head. It's Hispanic of course. Good with our cover when we get back together. You can pick out the middle name, how's that? Just not Stanley or Kenneth, okay? (And not your dad's name or my dad's name either). I think it will be safer for our son if his name is not connected to these two men that are helping us out. I haven't figured out why they are doing all of this. Just that they are. The really good news is that damn Stan says I cannot return to Newark. I never want to go there again. Ever. He said sometime after the baby comes we can settle in someplace for awhile. The bad news is that I cannot ever show my skills at computers again. We'll see about that. I think I can run off of a fingerstick with a vpn and a proxy with a Linux OS. Naturally, I'd have to have a different alias and all. I need to hack. That damn Stan and his mother just don't get it. It's something that's inside of me.
Monday, September 16, 2013
*We left our hero fast asleep in a bed just as a phone rang.*
"Hello," said Stan.
"Hey Stan. Kenneth here. How goes our rebellious charge?"
"Settling in. He seems to be quite afraid of my mother."
"I'm afraid of your mother, Stan."
"Most people are, Kenneth. Most people are. We've had a workout in the garden and then Mom carted Dree off to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting."
"Honey is doing well. She's settled in to a small apartment and has been going at her legal assistant studies with gusto. She's been quite a help in the office here."
"Glad to hear that. How's the bambino coming along?"
"It is a boy, according to the last ultrasound. Doc has prescribed the usual collection of prenatals. Honey is very careful about her diet. She immediately imposed a smoking ban at our staff meeting the other day!"
"She's a feisty woman."
"Yes indeed," said Kenneth. "She came over for dinner last night and was a hit with the family. Brought over a homemade rhubarb and strawberry pie to die for, marvelous conversationalist."
"Excellent," Stan nodded. "I don't know yet if we will have to send our fellow off to rehab yet. Roger Dodger will be helping with that decision."
"Wait till he finds out--"
"-- who works there!" Stan finished.
The two friends rang off.
~ to be continued~
Thursday, September 12, 2013
"Young man, hurry up now!" Stan's mother yelled in the direction of Dree RainCave's bathroom where he had gone to hide from gardening for as long as possible. Not even ten minutes. "Yes Ma'am," he replied to the doorway silently gritting his teeth. Majestic head-butted his human. "I'm going, I'm going," Dree mumbled.
She was waiting for him in the hallway. "Here, gloves and a hat," she ordered. "I don't wear hats," Dree said before he could stop himself. "You do now, Sonny," she told him. "What kind of a name is Dree. Don't tell me you're one of them hippie types. Up the rebels and all of that." Dree didn't answer back. He was. "Come along," Mrs. Stan's Mother ordered him. "The bees and the humidity will not be waiting for the likes of you."
Dree was given a few well-taken care of hand tools and a wheelbarrow. "Weeds," that Damn Stan said. Dree bent to his task. The hours flew. Lunch came. Soon enough, the sun began to sink behind the trees. Stan showed Dree how to clean up the tools and where to put the weeds before the three of them went in to eat. "Take a shower first," Stan directed. "Dinner will be in a half hour."
Dree found a starving Majestic in the bedroom, a stinky litter box in the closet, and a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt in the bathroom. This time, the t-shirt was brilliant red and proclaimed loudly in white letters "My lawyer can beat up your lawyer." Dree took care of Majestic and his stink, then he showered and changed. He noticed a new pile of books by his nightstand. He'd examine them later.
Dinner was actually pleasant. Dree was too hungry to talk. He nodded at whatever Stan and his mother were talking about. It seemed to be a discussion about foreign policy. Stan's mother had whipped together potato and cheese pierogis, beets and onions, and there were bowls of chilled strawberries for dessert. Without being asked to, after dinner Dree rinsed off the dishes and stacked them into the dishwasher. Stan's mother made a pot of coffee then and set three cups on the kitchen table. The phone rang. Stan excused himself.
"You're coming with me tonight," Mrs. Stan's Mother remarked offhandedly to Dree. Dree nodded. He knew that it was in his best interest to do whatever the woman told him to. After the coffee was gone, Dree followed her obediently out to a car in the garage.
Dree was afraid of That Damn Stan's Mother. Within the last twenty-four hours he had learned that she would not hesitate to rat him out if he got high, that she didn't like "hippies" very much except for her son who had redeemed himself by also being a top-notch lawyer, and that she could work circles around him in the garden. He soon found her speeding along the back roads like Mario Andretti. He clutched the dashboard. "You nervous, Sonny?" "No, Ma'am," he lied. "Yeah you are," she told him directly, "You'll get used to my driving in a few weeks." Dree hoped to be dropped off at another location yesterday. He wiped at beads of sweat collecting under the red baseball cap that had been left with tonight's clothing. The car lurched into a driveway and banged into a parking spot. Mrs. Stan's Mother opened the driver's side door. "We're here." Dree RainCave wasn't sure of where exactly "here" was but he got out of the car and followed her into the basement of a church.
"Sit," she told him. He sat. She disappeared then, leaving him to observe the people filtering into the room. They were a noisy bunch, cursed quite a bit, and formed into little knots of conversations. Mrs. Stan's Mother returned and thrust a Styrofoam cup of coffee at Dree RainCave. He took it.
Mrs. Stan's Mother went up to the table in front and banged a gavel. She began to read some words off of a card. More words were read by different people. Oh shit, Dree thought. She's dragged me to a bloody meeting of dopers. I just smoke a bit of weed. I don't have a problem. He had little choice. He had to sit through the meeting or face her certain wrath later on. He sat. He said nothing. Ninety minutes later, the room stood up and linked arms. Dree figured he would go along with it. Whatever, he thought. The group chanted some words that he didn't know. Then the meeting was over.
Mrs. Stan's Mother did not appear to be in any hurry to leave. A group of guys surrounded Dree and asked him stuff. How long have you been using? Did you go to treatment? Are you in Drug Court? How long have you been clean? Dree blinked at them and said, "Huh?" One old guy patted Dree's shoulder. "It will get better," he said. "Here's a meeting schedule and some phone numbers. That one is mine," he indicated his name-- Roger-- with a grimy fingernail, "Call if you want to talk." Dree mumbled a hasty thanks. Mrs. Stan's Mother swooped down on him just then. "I see you've met Roger Dodger," she said warmly, winking at him. "Good to see you Roger. Come on Sonny, time to go home now." Dree nodded in relief. "Bye," he said as Mrs. Stan's Mother pulled him out of the room.
The ride home was worse. It was dark. There were no street lights on the back roads. "Someday, all of our tomorrows will be yesterday," Mrs. Stan's Mother intoned mysteriously after cresting a hill at eighty miles per hour. "But not yet," Dree said while clutching the dashboard. "He speaks!" Mrs. Stan's Mother laughed. But she did not slow down.
Back in the house, she bid him a good night. He stumbled into the bedroom. The books were waiting on the nightstand. He glanced at the titles. Narcotics Anonymous. Sponsorship. Living Clean. "But I'm not an addict," he told Majestic as he sat on the bed. Majestic meowed loudly and sprang off the bed into the closet. He came back with a small green mouse toy and deposited it into Dree RainCave's hand. Dree swung his legs up onto the bed. Majestic hissed at him. Obviously, Dree would have to throw the mouse for Majestic to fetch a dozen times or so until the cat tired of the game. Majestic deposited the mouse at the foot of the bed and curled around it. Dree shut off the lamp by the bed and was asleep with a quickness. He did not hear the phone ringing a few minutes later.
~ to be continued ~
I have observed lately on Twitter that a certain butthurt woman is now claiming that a buddy of mine from Ireland is a pedophiliac. Certain butthurt woman has an established history of claiming that people who refuse to buy into her revisionistic history of her histrionic reactions to reality are aiding and abetting a giant pedo ring in the state of Maine which chiefly involve a daughter that she has lost any parental rights to-- by her own doing-- and that daughter's half-sister. Those who need to know are aware of the drama. If you don't know, count yourself fortunate that you remain untouched by the rantings of a raving lunatic.
These snark tags were created in order to encourage my Twitter buddy and cohorts to remember that bad behavior on the part of one butthurt individual says way more about her than it does about the rest of us.
Chins up. Troll on. Sail strong.
If any of the rest of you want these, right click to save to your computer.
sapphoq n friends
And to the people who do not understand copyright, I made these from pictures that I took. So go away. I hate you.
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
The truck suddenly stopped and a garage door descended. Majestic head-butted the prone human sleeping among the rotten foodstuffs. Then he bit him on the arm just below the elbow. Hard.
Dree RainCave groaned. Just then That Damn Stan came round back and opened the gate. "Fruit, Stan? Worse than the laundry."
"Shut-up!" That Damn Stan hissed. "Get in the house. First bedroom on the left is yours. We'll talk in the morning. And don't wake up my mother. She'll kill you."
Majestic bunched himself up and took a flying leap, hurling himself through the air and landing on the step leading to the kitchen. "I see you brought company. There's a litter box in the closet."
Dree RainCave extracted himself from the moldering pile of rottenness. "Thanks, Stan," he mumbled. Stumbling, he followed the cat to the bedroom that was to be his for the night. He collapsed on the bed. He didn't hear That Damn Stan setting out the litter box or bringing in fresh water and a cat bowl full of food for Majestic. Majestic took a giant dump in the litter box, gulped some water down, and then made himself at home on Dree RainCave's pillow. The cat was soon asleep, encircled around his human's head.
~ the next morning ~
"Get up!" That Damn Stan yelled at Dree RainCave. "And take a shower. You stink. Clean clothes are set out for you in the bathroom." The door slammed shut. Dree RainCave squinted at the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. "Too early for this," he whispered to Majestic, scratching him behind the ears and then rubbing the cat's chin.
The shower was steamy. It loosened the knots in Dree RainCave's muscles and swept away the dirt from The Abandoned Field that had become part of him. Dree RainCave dried off and inspected the clothing that the lawyer had set out for him. Not bad, he mused. Faded blue jeans, sandals, and a t-shirt. The t-shirt was white and had a picture of a rat with a hockey stick emblazoned on the front. "Albany River Rats," he read out loud. "Never heard of them."
The smell of fresh coffee, eggs on a griddle, and hot corn muffins led Dree RainCave to the kitchen. An attractive older woman nodded gruffly to him. "I'm not a maid," she informed him. "You want something to eat or drink, help yourself. Washer and dryer are down the hallway. While you are here, you will not make a nuisance of yourself. Got it?" The woman stared at him. Dree RainCave studied her for any sign of humanity. She was an attractive woman, maybe in her early fifties. Athletic. With silver hair and piecing green eyes. "Did Majestic bite your tongue? You will answer me, young man. This is my domain. Stan may have brought you here but I will kick your ass out in a heartbeat." Dree RainCave walked over to the coffee which was located in the opposite corner of the woman. "Yes ma'am," he said. He grabbed a mug sitting near the big coffee pot and began pouring. "And don't go smoking any of that marijuana stuff here. I will call the cops on you if you do," she told him sternly. Dree RainCave brought his coffee over to the table and sat down. The woman stalked off down the hallway.
When Dree RainCave judged that it was safe [meaning that the woman was gone], he got up again and went over to the griddle. He scrambled up three eggs, put them on a plate besides two corn muffins and sat back down to eat.
The corn muffins were quite good, he thought. There was some kind of trick to them. They seemed to have three layers instead of one. A coarse corn meal sort of bottom, a creamy middle layer which tasted vaguely of bran, and a crusty top layer browned just right.
That Damn Stan came in then and got his own breakfast. Dree RainCave said, "G'morning" and then ate in silence. "I see you met my mother," Stan said. "She's off-limits to you." "Huh?" Dree RainCave protested. "Off. Li. Mits." Stan repeated himself. "Oh stop. Don't even start in about your Honey leaving you for some guy named Kenneth. Honey is pregnant." Dree RainCave looked up, startled. "Yeah, probably yours," That Damn Stan continued. "And no, Kenneth has no designs on your girlfriend or ex or whatever she is to you now. Honey called me and I called Kenneth. So quit feeling sorry for yourself."
Suddenly, That Damn Stan exploded. "What were you thinking? Smoking pot, trying to grow pot, and collecting parts for a computer. Listen to me very carefully. You must stay off the internet. Period." "But--" "I don't want to hear it," Stan continued, his fury gaining momentum. "You are jeopardizing yourself and everyone who is working to keep you from getting arrested. This isn't a one-man operation." Stan was practically screaming. Veins bulged from his neck. "If you get drunk or use drugs, you are out of here. You won't be the first that my mother has set up for arrest. She despises stoners, drunks, and junkies. You will help her around the house while I am gone to work everyday. You will not leave the property. If I catch you with any electronic parts, I will make you disappear myself. You are not some grand hacker guy. For a smart guy, you really don't use your intelligence. Quit being led around by your gonads for crying out loud. You have first world problems. Next time you mess up, I just might have a yen to drop you off in a Chinese village. Or in a rehab." Dree RainCave thought to argue but then thought better of it. He nodded. "I'm your friend, Dree. Probably one of your truest friends. Fly right, shut up, and you just might live free. Now eat your breakfast. I'm off today. The three of us will be working in the garden." That Damn Stan gave his attention over to his plate. Food was serious business. Seeing that no more conversation or lecturing would be forthcoming, Dree RainCave did the same.
~ to be continued ~