Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Teenage Modern Philosopher's Club Chatroom, Episode 2



NOTE:  ". . ."  means brief period of silence.

CorpusOrgan1: Of course pizza exists.

Lil’Con: Or, perhaps it’s tasty deliciousness is all in our heads. It tastes good because we believe it to.

TheGreatPlato: If we can believe things to taste good, everything would taste good.

CorpusOrgan1: Maybe it’s physical existence doesn’t matter at all. If we warrant its existence, it will exist.

TheGreatPlato: So if I wanted to will something to not exist, could I? Are you telling me that if I take this bag of Cheetos, believe it does not exist, it will disappear? 

CorpusOrgan1: That’s not exactly what I’m saying, but its possible.

TheGreatPlato: Well lets give it a try, shall we? Cheetos, I will you to no longer exist.
. . .

Lil’Con: Is it still there?

TheGreatPlato: No, Confucius, it’s completely gone! Everything Aristotle said was right!

CorpusOrgan1: -_-

TheGreatPlato: My god! The things I could do now that I can make things disappear! No more homework, no more anchovies, maybe I can even make the Universe disappear! Do you think it possible, Aristotle?

CorpusOrgan1: I think it possible that you can will that bag of Cheetos back into existence and choke on it’s contents, Plato.

Lil’Con: Wait, I’m confused are we being serious or sarcastic?

TheGreatPlato: I’m as serious as the existence of Aristotle.

Lil’Con: So . . . not at all?

CorpusOrgan1: Let’s not go back to the idea of the “existence of people”, boys. Let’s stick to the topic at hand: Pizza.

TheGreatPlato: Hold on, mother’s calling. Brb.

*Five minutes later*

TheGreatPlato: I don’t believe this! That psychotic baby!

Lil’Con: What happened?

TheGreatPlato: Socrates told his mother I bullied him out of the club, and she called my mother to complain! I’ve been grounded, effective starting tomorrow!

CorpusOrgan1: He went to his mother? That’s low, even for him.

TheGreatPlato: I know. I also have to let him back in the club, and be nice to him from now on. 

TheGreatPlato: Prepare yourselves.   He  is  officially  unblocked  as  of  . . .  now.

SocRocks9 has been added to the group.
SocRocks9 has logged on.

TheGreatPlato: Hello, Socrates.

SocRocks9: hi dickwads.

CorpusOrgan1: Socrates, how could you? Getting Plato in trouble with his mother!

SocRocks9: just wait until you get home aristotle. my mom called your mom too.

CorpusOrgan1: . . . No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

SocRocks9: i didnt, my mom did.

Lil’Con: Socrates, I know how upset you must feel, but can’t you find within yourself enough positive energy to move past it and not resort to such . . . childish moves?

SocRocks9: you think thats childish? my mom is over at the neighbors right now, calling your mom.

Lil’Con: [censored]

TheGreatPlato: Your phone was working well enough when we got our joyous call, why is she using the neighbors?

SocRocks9: she doesnt want to pay the international fees. she said she would tell the neighbors our phone broke and she needed to call our dying grandma in China.

TheGreatPlato: Class just runs right down the line in your family, doesn’t it?

SocRocks9: SHUT UP PLATO DONT TALK ABOUT MY MOM

Lil’Con: But Socrates, I don’t live in China.
. . . 

SocRocks9: your lying. she looked up your number online.

Lil’Con: I’m not lying, we live in Indiana.

SocRocks9: but it says there is a confucius family in china, isn’t that you?
. . .

Lil’Con: Confucius is my first name, Socrates.  

SocRocks9: then who is she on the phone with??

Lil’Con: I don’t know, but it isn’t my mother.

TheGreatPlato: I can see intelligence runs strong in your line, too, Socrates. 

SocRocks9: I SWEAR TO GOD PLATO IF YOU DON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT MY MOM

TheGreatPlato: How about this. I’ll stop talking about you and your oh so “elegant” mother, if you stop making up lies about me.

SocRocks9: I DIDNT MAKE UP ANYTHING YOU LITERAL SON OF A BITCH.

TheGreatPlato: Thank you, Socrates.

SocRocks9: FOR WHAT BUTTWING?

TheGreatPlato: You’ll see. I’ll brb.

*2 minutes later*

TheGreatPlato: I’ve just shown my mother what you wrote to me today and last week. I’ve been given permission to kick you back out of the club.

SocRocks9: WHAT??

TheGreatPlato: You should also expect to hear from your mother soon. My mother is on the phone with her now.

SocRocks9: NO!

TheGreatPlato: Yes. Goodbye again, Socrates.

SocRocks9: YOU PIECE OF —

SocRocks9 has been disconnected.
SocRocks9 has been blocked from the group.

Friday, November 08, 2013

Teenaged Modern Philospher’s Club Chatroom! by UteroKid


SocRocks9 (Socrates)
TheGreatPlato (Plato)
CorpusOrgan1 (Aristotle)
Lil’Con (Confucius)

New chat started
TheGreatPlato, CorpusOrgan1, and Lil’Con are logged on.


TheGreatPlato: Is everyone here?

Lil’Con: Present.

CorpusOrgan1: If you are referring to my virtual presence inside this chatroom, the answer is yes. 

TheGreatPlato: Yes, Aristotle, that’s exactly what I’m referring to -_-. You can save the “State of Being” topic for the actual discussion. 

CorpusOrgan1: No need to be so snippy.

Lil’Con: Perhaps he does, if this is his way of achieving self-cultivation. 

CorpusOrgan1: Excuse my lack of temperance, but his “self-cultivation” can kiss my ass.

TheGreatPlato: And before I answer that with my own poorly chosen words, I would like to begin this meeting with some news. Now, you all agree with dismissing Socrates from the club, yes?

CorpusOrgan1: Of course.

TheGreatPlato: Confucius?

Lil’Con: I do agree . . . but I’m still concerned about how he will take it, he’s so volatile.

TheGreatPlato: Which is exactly why he needs to leave the club. I cannot take another one of his anti-conformist spouts, especially when it ends up with him pulling his pants down and peeing on my mother’s living room carpet and stomping on the subsequent puddle.

Lil’Con: I remember.

TheGreatPlato: Good. Now that I have your confirmations, I will inform you that an hour ago I sent him a lengthy email telling him that he is no longer a member of the Philosophy Club. I was very kind and gentle about it; he couldn’t possibly take it badly. 

SocRocks9 has logged on.

SocRocks9: WHO THE HELL DO YOU BUTTWIPES THINK YOU ARE?!?

CorpusOrgan1: Uh oh.

Lil’Con: Plato I thought you were going to block him?!

TheGreatPlato: I thought I had! Socrates how did you unblock yourself?!

SocRocks9: YOU STILL HAVE ME AS AN ADMINISTRATOR OF THIS GROUP, DUMBASS. I HAVE TOTAL CONTROL OVER IT. HOW THE HELL CAN YOU KICK ME OUT OF THE CLUB THAT I FOUNDED?!

TheGreatPlato: Well, Socrates, to be fair we founded it together. And though we are forever appreciative of your part in starting this club, we just feel that your personality traits no longer mesh with the general personality of the group.

SocRocks9: MY PERSONALITY TRAITS ARE [censored] PERFECT. WHAT IS THIS REALLY ABOUT?

Lil’Con: Socrates, I know you’re angry, but could you please turn off caps lock? It is really disturbing the peaceful atmosphere of the chat room.

SocRocks9: TAKE YOUR PEACEFUL ATMOSPHERE AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS, CONFUCIUS. I CANT TURN OFF CAPSLOCK. IM IN THE SCHOOL LIBRARY AND WHOEVER USED THIS BEFORE ME GOT SOME GUNK ON IT AND NOW THE BUTTON IS STUCK. I DONT KNOW WHAT THIS GUNK IS AND I DON’T THINK I WANT TO KNOW. ITS GREY.

CorpusOrgan1: Why don’t you go to another computer?
SocRocks9: THEYRE ALL TAKEN AND THE LIBRARIAN WOULDNT LET ME TRADE. TYPICAL CONFORMIST MAY AS WELL BE ATHENIAN---

CorpusOrgan1: Oh here we go.

SocRocks9: ---DOESNT LIKE TO UPSET THE AMORAL STATUS QUO. THIS IS WHY I KEEP SAYING WE NEED TO REBEL AGAINST THIS SCHOOL AND SHOW THEM WE ARE NOT GOING TO TAKE THEIR UNJUST RULES.

TheGreatPlato: We can’t do that, Socrates, it’s too extreme. This is why you can’t be a part of the club anymore. You take things too far.

SocRocks9: I HAVENT EVEN BEGUN TAKING THINGS BUT I ASSURE YOU I WILL NOW. YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THIS, PLATO, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? I AM GOING TO DESTROY YOU. I AM GOING TO MESS YOUR [censored] UP! I WILL---

SocRocks9 has been disconnected.
SocRocks9 has been blocked from this group.

TheGreatPlato: Finally blocked him.

Lil’Con: For good?

TheGreatPlato: Yes, I took away his administrator status. 

CorpusOrgan1: Wait a minute guys. I just got an instant message from him.

CorpusOrgan1: This is what he just sent:

....................../´¯/) 
....................,/¯../ 
.................../..../ 
............./´¯/'...'/´¯¯`·¸ 
........../'/.../..../......./¨¯\ 
........('(...´...´.... ¯~/'...') 
.........\.................'...../ 
..........''...\.......... _.·´ 
............\..............( 
..............\.............\…


TheGreatPlato: Very nice, Socrates. Your high level of class continues to astound me.

Monday, November 04, 2013

Mamie Barlowe, Episode 7


The next morning I open one eye and immediately wish I had died overnight. Pain radiates through my ribs, through my upper back, through my neck, up to my head, and down one leg. I lurch to the bathroom. Time for some old-fashioned relief. I carry a good supply of pain pills, see. I get a few from Grandma Barlowe. She says at her age she only has to stroll into the doctor’s office and he’s writing her prescriptions: sedatives, stool softeners, morphine, you name it. I asked her how she got him to prescribe morphine. Simple, she said. She uses a wheelchair on her ‘bad days’, then fakes pain noises; you know the kind, you’re seated in the dentist’s office and suddenly hear all kinds of shrieks coming from the torture chamber. Grandma’s real good at shrieking. I learned that recently. Not many things make me shiver, see. One of them is walking into a freezer finding a dead body. Her shrieks remind me of those frosty moments.
After swallowing two codeine tablets, I stumble into the kitchen to make coffee: black, no sugar, no cream. Forget the cappuccino expresso stuff. Crap like that will hurl me to Italy and back in sixty seconds.
“Hello, darling.”
Crash! Boom! Bang!  My vintage half-a-cup coffee mug goes flying, my head hits the cabinet, and my hand falls hard onto my new marbleized formica countertop. I turn around, but I’m unleashing a thunder full of cursing in my mind, see. It feels like my lips are forming words that begin with the letters, f, s, d, g, and any combination thereof, but nothing comes out. Good thing. Mother Barlowe in all her glory stands near the door, her arms folded across her upper body like an oversize pretzel super-glued to the bosom area of a red sweater. The expression on her face is twisted into a mixture of sardonic and demonic amusement. One eyebrow is cocked near the ceiling. Chill’s right. My psychic powers may have temporarily taken a powder. I usually know when Mother Barlowe is within shooting distance. Problem is, I’ve never had my glock nearby, see. “A phone call before coming over would be nice, Mother.”
“I tried. Your phone is dead, Mamie.”
I groan. “It died. I’ll replace it today.” I refill a styrofoam cup, and offer Mother Barlowe coffee. She shakes her head, but continues to glare at me. I stare back. “Ok, your eyes are shooting javelins at me. Problem?”
“You mean besides the fact you left me stranded in the hospital parking lot?”
“Was that you? I thought you looked familiar. I wasn’t sure.”
“Listen Mamie, it’s bad enough your Grandmother pulled that stunt in the hospital, but don’t let her draw you into her orbit of crazy.” Mother Barlowe walks over to the broken pieces of coffee cup, bends down and picks them up before throwing them in the trash. Too bad. A set of vintage four cups are now down to three. “And frankly, I’ve had enough of her shenanigans.” She plants herself in front of me, like she’s daring me to shoot her or something.
I almost throw my cup against the wall. There are days when Mother Barlowe makes me wish I had never owned a bulletproof vest; I’d be dead by now. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, once she’s out of the hospital she’s going into a retirement home. There are some really nice ones nearby. I’ve already put the papers in.”
“You mean nursing home. Isn’t that a little drastic, even for you, Mother?”
“Even for me? What? You’re insulting me now?” She takes a small step forward narrowing the distance between us. That’s a bad sign. Time to run. If I could. But she’s got me boxed in. 
Uh oh, now the pointy finger starts to wave. Won’t be long before it touches wounded flesh. Mine. “Grandma Barlowe is as sane as you or me. Putting her in a home is just wrong.”
“I see. So, I’m the one that puts up with her crap day in day out, but you’re the expert?”
“No, I’m just—”
“You, who never stops by; you, who never calls; and you, who has basically checked out of this family!” Forefinger scores a hit right below my neck line. I glide sideways by a foot. Mother Barlowe moves with me. Getting ready for the killshot. “Your grandmother assaulted a nurse, she assaulted my car, and now she’s in the hospital on psychiatric hold. What is your definition of the word sane, Mamie? I’d really like to know.”
My tookus finds a cozy, secure spot up against my 1956 Fabulous Foodarama Refrigerator by Kelvinator, the kind of refrigerator that says, Look Ma, I can stuff Joey, Suzy, and baby Dumpling in it like one big happy turkey! Well, it’s time for me to fight back, or die. Looks can kill, see. “She went a little off base, Mother. Temporary insanity, they call it. She was just trying to help me.”
“Help you? Great dane in the house that’s exactly what I wanted to hear!” Mother Barlowe does sarcasm well. I’m in for a rough ride down the rapids without a raft. “Do you know what’s cluttering my desk right now, Mamie? . . . I’ll tell you. A box of anonymous complaint letters. Addressed to me. About your grandmother. By concerned adult children. I get a few every month. Sometimes, I even get phone calls. Would you like to know why?”
I’m experiencing the sensation of nodding, then shaking my head all at the same time. It gives me a headache.
“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. Take the case of Miss Dotty Traxel. All of 86 years old, and happily single her entire life. Then, she met your grandmother. Your grandmother introduced her to a much younger church-going man: looks, age, mental state, not important to your grandmother. You know why? Because he was a Deacon. Then, Miss Dotty Traxel became Mrs. Dotty Furnell practically a week after meeting him. Then, a week after the reception, this so-called deacon left her flat, cleaning out her checking and savings account. Then guess what happened, Mamie?”
The pressure of having to answer right away is very high. I throw my head back. Away from the heat, see. But my head takes a bounce off a vintage freezer door magnet that reads, “I haven’t had my coffee yet. Don’t make me kill you!” Mother Barlowe leans in further. If my face were a sign it would read, DEAD END.
“I’ll you what happened. Funeral services for Miss Traxel are this weekend. She dropped dead from the shock. Now, I can give you more examples. Would you like to hear them?” She finally leans back as if she needs relief from the breath of her hot air boomeranging off my face.
I blink. This time I’m going to answer. “Some other time, Mother. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got to get to the office.” Weak, weak, weak! But it’s my mother, see.
“Ok, Mamie, just so you understand why I finally had to do something about your grandmother, capiche?” She heads for the door, carrying a purse that could hide a 1978 Rossi Overland sawed-off 12 gauge shotgun.  At the last minute, when I think I’m in the all clear, she turns back around. “Goodbye, darling . . . Oh, I almost forgot, you’ll be the one to sign your grandmother out of the hospital. Then break the news to her.” The door shuts quietly behind her. My life just took a turn for the worse. Where is Sable Mink when you really need her? Just finish me off now, see!
I walk into the office several minutes late for my appointment with Mr. COB III. I’m not looking forward to this meeting. For all I know, there may be a fourth Mr. COB III out there. But I am cheered by the sight of my secretary back in the office. “Good to see you, Vera. Where’s my client?”
Vera has a smile that would empty a monastery full of monks. “No one has come in today, Ms. Barlowe.”
“Any special packages left by you-know-who?”
She shakes her beehive blonde hair do. That’s not all that shakes, either, which makes Vera a really big asset in the office. Distractions are an important part of my business, see. Evasive action is required alotta of the time.
“Oh wait, Miss Barlowe. I almost forgot. Your aunt Flo called. She’s been trying to reach you since last night.” There’s that smile again. If heaven promised to be full of blonde bimbos with buxom hour glass figures and glittering smiles, there’d be less crime from the male population, see. Not that Vera's a bimbo. Far from it. 
“Your hair looks good, Vera. Was it a painful reconstruction?”
She blushes too. Like a Rubens painting. “A little. But I’m sure it’s nowhere near as painful as getting shot in the uh . . . chest area.” She looks at the ceiling. Vera’s never been married, see. Doesn’t date. Still lives at home. Still sleeps in the bed she grew up in. God help her if she ever sees a naked body other than her own.
“Yeah, all that pain and I’m still hauling two giant pumpkins around in my uh . . . chest area.” Didn’t stick around to see the blooming bright red of Vera’s cream complexion. From a Rubens painting to a can of red porch paint I bet. My secretary has more brains than an MIT graduate. It doesn’t make her a stimulating conversationalist. I plump into my leather chair and take out my new phone. Before I can reach my aunt Flo, Vera pokes her head in. “Your client, Mr. Clarence Oberon Binghorton III is here.
       “Thanks, Vera. Send him in.” This should be good. But I’m not in the mood, good or otherwise. It’s about time for my annual vacation by the shores of Gitche Gumee. Mr. COB III walks into my office. I take one look and wish I was staring at Billy the Chimp again. Only this time, without a bulletproof vest. Maybe I should pack my replacement Glock for this “vacation.” Go “bird” hunting. Yeah, that sounds about right. 

Monday, October 21, 2013

Hercule Poirot, The Letter, Episode 3



“I don’t know what happened, Miss Lemon! I turned my back—”

“Oh really, Mr. Hastings, that’s just the point, isn’t it? He was in a very precarious situation, and yet you—Oh dear, oh dear, I warned him not to go when he got the letter. I am just sick about this. Sick, do you hear? And if you were a child, Captain Hastings, I should send you to your room without any supper.”

“W-well . . . I’m not, now am I, Miss Lemon?  But you are quite right, I should have protected him.”

“There’s the doorbell. It's Chief Inspector Japp. You sit down and don’t move a muscle.” (leaves the room)

(Hastings mutters) “I say, jolly rude that. The day I take orders from a woman is the day I resign from the human race.” (eyes Hercule Poirot’s desk) "Hmm . . . where could that letter be?” (quickly breaks open the lock on a center drawer and pulls out a lavender-scented pink envelope just before Japp enters the room. He shoves the envelope in his coat pocket and hastily takes a seat)  “Ah, good morning, Inspector.”

“Is it? Dragging me out of bed at one in the morning is not my cup of tea. So, the most famous detective in the world has gone missing. You seem awfully cheery about it.” (eyes Hastings suspiciously)

“No my good man, quite the opposite. I'm positively devastated by what happened to my dearest friend.”  (Fingers the letter in his pocket)

“Right. Give me the skinny, then, if you please, Captain Hastings.”

"Not much to tell, really. I accompanied Poirot to his midnight appointment. We were standing there chatting amiably when I heard a noise. I went to investigate. Took only a minute, really. By the time I returned, he was gone.”

(Miss Lemon chimes in) “I still can't believe you turned your back on Mr. Poirot.”

(A huffy Hastings) “You can berate me to kingdom come, Miss Lemon, but it can’t be any worse than what I’ve said to myself a thousand times already.”

(Inspector Japp clears his throat) “Right, right. No need for self-recrimination at this stage of the game. Let’s move on. What did you find when you investigated the noise?”

"N-nothing, really. My imagination must have playing tricks on me."

"Are you absolutely sure, Captain Hastings? It could be a vital clue." (stares hard at the Captain)

(Miss Lemon chimes in) "If you ask me, the 'noise' was probably a cat."

(Hastings flushes) "Really, Miss Lemon. Were you there? I think not.”

(Inspector Japp looks amused) “Could it have been a cat, Captain Hastings?” 

(Hastings squirms as he lies) No. No . . . Certainly not. Although . . . now that I think on it, anything's possible, I suppose." 

“Right." (Japp stares hard at Hastings) "This letter Poirot received. Where is it?”

“I-I’m not quite sure." (Hastings nervously touches the letter) "Poirot wouldn’t let me read it. Said it was for my own protection, or some such nonsense. Contained clues and codes, or whatnot, but I got the distinct impression he simply wanted to keep the information to himself.”

(Miss Lemon snorts most unladylike) “More like he didn’t trust you with that information, Mr. Hastings. And we know why, don’t we?”

(Inspector Japp’s eye light up) Oh right, the case where the Captain here escorted a female suspect into the evidence room and left her alone to . . . fetch a glass of water was it? Then the murder weapon went missing."

(A huffy Hastings mumbles) "I suppose I'm going to pay for that the rest of my life."

"Right. Well, time to hobnob it off to St. Mary Metfelon and look ‘round the premises. Do you mind coming with me, Captain Hastings, seeing as to how you were there when the alleged crime occurred?”

“Not only was he there, Inspector Japp, but you would do well to remember that Mr. Poirot disappeared right out from under his nose.”

(Hastings expels an irritated sigh) “I must say, Miss Lemon, you do on and on about that. Like a broken record you are. Time to lift the needle I should think.”

(Japp’s had enough of the bickering) "Right. We best get a move on then. The more time wasted, the worse it is for our little friend, eh? As you know, the first few hours are critical in a kidnapping.”

“KIDNAPPING? Surely, you don’t think Mr. Poirot was kidnapped? . . . Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” (Miss Lemon wrings unadorned, lily-white hands)

“What else could it be, Miss Lemon? You have any other ideas?”

“N-not really. I’m afraid I’m so entirely undone by what's happened, I’m not thinking clearly. And it’s all so sordid. And sad. He was such a fussy little man, you know. I can’t bear to think he may not be able to groom or bathe himself properly, or eat properly, or even trim his adorable little mustache. He must be suffering horribly right now.” (red-lacquered fingernails agitatedly pull on a lengthy pearl necklace)

“He's only been gone an hour, Miss Lemon. Chin up, eh? We’ll find him. In fact, we should have a message from the kidnapper soon.”

“Will the kidnapper . . . will he hurt Mr. Poirot do you think, Inspector Japp? Oh, I can’t bear the thought . . . ”

“Now, now, Miss Lemon, don't upset the applecart. You do have the expert help of Scotland Yard at your disposal. Doesn’t get any better than that. Right, Captain? . . . . . . RIGHT, CAPTAIN HASTINGS?”

“Oh . . . what? Applecart? Where? . . . I mean right. Help. Of course. Yes.” (itching to open lavender-scented pink envelope. Crumpling it nervously.)

Miss Lemon wrinkles her nose. “What is that vile lavender smell?”

(Hastings is unpleasantly startled) “Smell? I don’t smell anything, Miss Lemon. Do you smell anything, Japp?”

“Hmm, yes . . . there is a lavender scent . . . mixed with . . . tobacco, or maybe day-old cheese. Certainly not my wife’s type of perfume.” (eyes Miss Lemon)

(Miss Lemon crosses her arms indignantly) “Well, it's most certainly not mine! I wear Chanel. Mr. Hastings knows that quite well.”

“Er yes . . . I do. I think. Well, off we go. Cheerio, Miss Lemon.”

(Japp starts to walk out with Hastings, but pauses to speak with Miss Lemon) “Now mind you, stay close to the phone and the post box. Be sure to let me know right away when the ransom demand comes in.”

“Of course, Inspector Japp." (whispers right before closing door) "And do please remember not to let Mr. Hastings out of your sight.”

“I must say, that is jolly well rude!” (Hastings lifts hand to ring the bell)

“Don’t push it, mate. (snort) Women. Like wind-up toys. Don't get them started, eh?"


Author note:  There is a jolly good reason why Dame Agatha Christie was the wonderful author of the Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings short stories! Do you know why? I do. Now.  

Monday, October 14, 2013

"Sucks, Doesn't It?" Part 31


Silver Spring MD
Another session, another $90. Therapists. Spouting crapola by the dollar. I slouch in my seat and fidget, most desirous to run away and never come back. But I’d made a vow, and, much like the flying nun, I’m seriously dedicated to seeing it though. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Pen notices. “Tell me what’s happening, Liz. You seem a little anxious tonight.”
I cross and uncross my legs, tap my foot, lean forward and study the floor. After a few, I sit up straight and zone in on my savior. “Didn’t go so well this week, Pen. I’ll be honest with you, I thought by now I’d start to feel better. I was doing really good for awhile there.”
She looks down at her notes, then scratches her head. “What happened?”
I study the ceiling. Blah paint job. Hate it so bad. Looks the way I feel, and even worse, reminds me of the hospital. All that’s missing are those demons crawling along the ceiling the last time I was there. I yawn and mutter, “I’m remembering things in a vague sort of way. Kinda scares me, I guess.”
Pen jumps on that right away. “Are the memories related to what we talked about last week?”
I shrug. “Yeah. Seems like every time I sit down to draw or write, a memory crawls out of the woodwork.
She leans forward. “Tell me exactly what you’re remembering.”
“I’m starting to hear this male voice in my head spout things like “you hear me girl,” followed by some God-awful racist crap. It’s sick really.” I abruptly get to my feet and pace back and forth.
“Do you recognize the voice you’re hearing?”
“Sure. Mr. M’s.” I stop my horse trot and paw the floor with my right foot several times before mumbling, “You don’ never forget a voice like that.” I clear my throat and plop back down. “Listen Pen, my brother says it’s not good for people to rehash this stuff. He says you’re opening up a Pandora’s box. Thinks it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
Pen smiles faintly. “Well in your case, Liz, the sleeping dogs woke up. Unresolved trauma, particularly the kind you suffered in your childhood eventually surfaces. It’s not going to stay buried. I think you understand that now?”
I nod slightly. Yeah, yeah, she’s right. Brother’s dead wrong. As per usual.
“Can you give me some specific details about these memories?”
I don’t waste anytime. In short order, I recite verbatim Mr. M’s racist threats, and my run-in with Ruby Pickens.
Pen takes a minute to reply. Her lips are pressed so tightly together, she’d give a dry cleaner a run for his money. “What happens after the flashbacks hit you? How do you feel?”
“I hate it. Start to panic. Get nauseated and go on a floor cruise.”
“So the act of drawing triggers these flashbacks. Do they occur any other time?”
“Um. Rarely, though.” I explain the flashback I had as I loaded the dishwasher. I leave out what had happened as I picked up the broken glass. “So what’s going on here, Pen?”
Now it’s Pen’s turn to clear her throat. “Tell me more about Mr. M. Last week you mentioned that everything went dark when he approached you. How often was that?”
“I don’t remember. But I got a lot smarter after that first time. Did everything I could to stay out of that man’s line of vision. Like, no more staying home from church. At bedtime, I’d hide in the closet, or under the bed. Sometimes, I even went over to this vacant house behind Mr. M’s and hung out there. After school, I stayed outside and wandered around the neighborhood. Met a lot of nice African-American families that way. I think they felt sorry for me. They knew who Mr. M was, yet they still talked to me. What does that tell you? It certainly didn’t jive with what that man was trying to teach me.”
I hear a loud buzz in my ear. I plug the ear with a finger and add, “Of course, staying away from Mr. M didn’t always work. Like at dinnertime. Then after dinner, he’d take me to his meetings and stuff. And I don’t remember the meetings, Pen, so don’t bother to ask me about them. Although I can tell you they were real scary, more scary than a—” 
Choke it, Lizzie. Now!
Pen jerks forward. Her voice drops to a cottony whisper. “Than a what?” . . . “Liz? . . . LIZ?”
Liz, the robot, answers, “Two plus two is four. Four plus four is eight. Eight plus eight is sixteen.” Swallow hard, and continue. “Two times two is four, four times four is eight, eight times eight is sixteen—” Cold fingers do a tap dance on my jean-clad knee. 
“It’s all right. You’re safe now, Liz.”
That quickly snaps me out of my daze. “So, how do I handle these flashbacks, Pen? Got any good ideas?”
Pen does the blinking thing. God, she’s good at that. But she quickly transitions into sympathetic therapist stance, and tells me to expect more memories to surface as therapy unfolds. She explains how to better handle them. Through visualization and breathing exercises. Reminds me of yoga. I hate the very thought of yoga. So, I tune the woman out as she drones on and on about these techniques.
After she’s finished, I pounce. “Hey GTK, Pen. I’ll put that in my FYI file.” I take out a piece of gum and start chomping. “Speaking of which, let me show you my new FYI file.” I put the tape recorder on the edge of her desk. “See, here’s the thing. As soon as I walk out your door, I forget everything you tell me. But not anymore. With this handy dandy tape recorder, I can record the sessions just by pressing one magical button. Voila, playback. And that’s not all. This handy dandy tape recorder is very versatile. I can even use it to record my thoughts during the week. It’s so blissfully easy to talk into. Better than getting writer’s cramp, that’s for sure.” I smile broadly at Pen’s grim look. Don’t think she likes the idea of the tape recorder, Lizzie. Boo hoo. Too bad. “I’ll show you what I mean.” I push the play button. A few seconds later, I begin to worry about Pen. She doesn’t look so good.
Hot diggity dog, Lizzie! That must be some record color drain. Is there, like, a vampire in the house?


Friday, October 04, 2013

Hercule Poirot, The Letter, Episode 2


“It’s dashed cold and dark out here, Poirot. Five minutes to midnight, and not a soul around. I think this was a very bad idea.”

“Mon ami, you merely have, how you say, the heebie jeebies. I too have the cold feeling, but as to the other, well, that is where you are wrong. Someone is here and watching us. Someone I think, who is not the author of the letter. And someone . . . to whom it is the real reason I am here. ”

“I don’t understand, Poirot. You know who you are meeting? I thought the letter was anonymous.”

“Yes, my friend, it was. But Poirot, he knows everything. He sees everything. In the letter was a code, and clues I could read without my glasses. That is why I could not permit you to read the letter.”

“Really, old boy, surely you can trust me by now. Have I ever disappointed you before? I think not.”

“Eh bien, I must beg to differ. There was the time you took a lady friend into the evidence room, and then what happened, mon ami? Please to refresh my memory.”

“That was different. How was I to know Ellen was an integral part of the case? You’d have to be psychic. I am a gentleman first and foremost. Or I like to think I am. The lady needed a drink. I think you would’ve done the same thing, old man.”

“Non, I most certainement would not!!! For one, I would never escort a lady into the evidence room. NEVER! For two, I have no need to show off my ego to a woman in such a fashion!  . . .  But, I can well understand your failure in this matter, Hastings. Women, they are like the sun on a warm day, until when the rain, it comes it pours, n’est ce pas?”

“Well, no point in arguing about it now, Poirot. I did learn my lesson.”

“Oui, I am quite sure you did, Hastings. But the raison d’etre I do not wish you to read the letter? It is for your own protection, mon ami.”

“Oh . . . well, that does make me feel somewhat better, old chap, but you know I’m not worried about myself. Your safety is of paramount importance to me. Always has been.”

“Ah, mon ami, it does me much good to hear such declarations of loyalty from you. It would appear we are, how you say, riding in the same car. Of course, it is to be understood that you are the chauffeur, Hastings.”  

“I am? Oh . . . right. I say, Poirot, where is Chief Inspector Japp? I hope he is hiding somewhere nearby.”

“Non, I have sent him a note canceling our appointment.”

“You what? Have you gone completely mad, Poirot? I fear your little grey cells went on holiday.”

“Hastings, I will tell you why I have called off the appointment. I am convinced there is no danger because, as I have eluded to before, I am quite sure I know who it is we are meeting.”

“Care to enlighten me on the who, then, Poirot?”

“That I cannot do, my friend, but I will tell you this, it is from the past that you will find the answer to almost all mysteries which occur in the present; and, I will go even further to say, that almost all mysteries in the future can be solved by using the blueprint from the past. Alors, look to the past, and you will find the answer to your question.”

“Problem is, Poirot, I don’t know what past, or whose past you’re talking about. I need more clues.”  

“No, you do not, mon ami. The clues, they are there. It is for you to figure out where they are, what they are, and what they mean. Of this I am sure. Now, we must be quiet Hastings; it is the midnight. And it is imperative that you see, listen, and smell;  these are the senses upon which you must concentr—”

“Did you hear that, Poirot? A hissing sort of sound! Over by those hedges! I’d better investigate! . . . . . . Oh, it was just a cat. A black one at that. You know, I’m not usually the superstitious sort, but . . . Poirot? Poirot? Where the devil are you? . . .  POIROT? . . . Oh dear, I think I’ve gone and done it again!”

Monday, September 30, 2013

Mamie Barlowe, Episode 6



Something drives me awake. And it isn’t pain. You get used to pain when it’s non-stop. It’s like being at an opera. The decibel level varies. Only pray for a quick death when the soprano breaks crystal, see.
           “Hey Mabel, wake up. It’s me, Chill.” A couple of pats on my cheeks doesn’t help the pain.
           “Whaaa? Wait a minute.” Another couple of pats. In the wrong places. I think about revenge, see. “Stop that, Chill. I’m not a scottish pancake.”
            “Sorry. Just makin’ sure it’s really you. Your grandma said you were dead.”
            “Feel free to call me Mamie, Detective.” I sit up. Still in my car. That’s nice. If I gotta die, I want it to be in my car, see. Chill’s looking at me with a crooked grin on his face. He’s got a thin scar that extends from the right side of his mouth, diagonally up the cheek, and ending near the corner of his eye. He got sliced up in a bar fight when he was nineteen. Plastic surgery didn't go so well. Hasn’t hurt his dating prowess. Dames love the scar. All he’s gotta do is flash that beaut, and baseballs sail out of the ballpark. Most of the time. I’m hard to please, see.     
           “I’ll call you Mamie when you quit leaving dead bodies in your wake. What have I told you about that?”
            I sit up and take a shallow breath. I’m learning, see. “Need a drink. Take me back to my apartment.”
            “Sure, doll. I’ll send a man to pick up your . . . automobile.” When Chill wrinkles his nose, it’s like looking at a mugshot in a funhouse mirror. He doesn’t like my car, see. He likes the big boaters. You know the kind: a fender bender, and one car winds up in Casablanca. It isn’t the boater. Anyway, Chill says only real men drive those monsters. He should oughta know. He tools around in a 1940 Black Cadillac, Series 75 Limousine Sedan. 
            “Your man? . . . Is he good looking?”
            Chill shakes his head, but his hair doesn’t move one iota. It’s black with a tint of midnight blue running through it, and lacquered up like some dame in a Broadway chorus. Could break a finger just touching it, see. 
            I get in his car, holding my ribs together. Feels like they’re gonna fall right out of my chest. Even with the brace. “Listen, Chill, I got questions that need answers.”
           He stares at me like I have three eyes and one of them is black and blue. “Oh yeah? Funny thing is, Mabel, I got questions that need answers too. And you’re gonna answer mine before I answer yours. Know why? One, ‘cos I carry a real shiny badge. Two, ‘cos I found you unconscious. Three, ‘cos I found two dead bodies, one of them lying underneath a very alive, very voluptuous body. Four, ‘cos I found Luigi crawling down the stairs at that dirt bag of a motel he called from. So talk fast. A five-minute history lesson will do.”
          When Chill brings out the badge, either talk, or sit in the hoosegow playing “Sentimental Journey” on the bars with a tuning fork. Or, in special cases, say hello to the sadistic doc in the ER. Chill knows better than to put me there. And I know better than not to talk. It’s all about respect, see. Me and him. Even if we swing for the fences missing each other by a hair.
          One thing about Chill’s car; it gets alotta looks of the admiring kind, but everybody stays the heaven away from it. He glides into a parking slot at my apartment building. Only took two spaces this time. “Alright. Come on up. But just for five minutes. And don’t try any funny stuff, Chill, or I’ll part your hair with a razor, see. And I’m not talking about the hair on your head.”
         “Sounds . . . frisky.” He looks at me with hungry puppy eyes.
         Good thing I prefer cats. Otherwise, I might be tempted to break an inviolate rule of mine: yeah, that one. A few minutes later, I’m laid out flat on a white leather sofa sipping a pain reducer, and listening to the bridal chorus of “Lohengrin” on my 1918 Victor Victrola; a stereo that seduces all great artists into your apartment to sing their guts out before your ear drum shatters. But it’s worth it, see.
          Chill’s been relegated to a box chair made out of vinyl, you know the kind, leaves a sweat stain a mile wide on your tookus. He looks at his watch. “Ok, I’m listening.”
         “What’s your question?”
           When Chill’s sighs, it’s like a cold draft, only not the good kind, see. “What? We gonna play twenty questions now, Mabel? Why don’t you start with the dead bodies of Mick the Creep and his lovely girlfriend, and go back from there. But word of warning, I’m especially interested in the whodunnit question.”
          “All I know is, Billy the Chimp shot me.”
           Chill laughs. “That’s a good one, Mabel. But I’m not in the mood for jokes. You can do better than that.”
          “I’m not joking. And don’t you spread it around the station, see. I got a reputation to protect.”
          “Well, then, you’ll be glad to know we picked Billy the Chimp up. He’s currently incarcerated at the zoo. They had to put him in isolation. Thing is . . . he’s not talking.” Chill can’t do sarcasm, see. He always snickers before the punchline. I’d like to punch him! 
           “I would’ve started the investigation somewhere’s else, Chump. Look, that hairy piece of monkey dong shot me point blank. Caught me off my guard, see. You ever know anybody to do that?”
          “Mabel, he was naked when we found him.”
          “When was that?”
          “Yesterday.”
          “Where?”
          “Going through some trash by that shi--I mean hooker motel. He was hungry.”
           I sit up quick on that one. I bite my lip in pain. “Sable abandoned him, Chill. It’s her m.o. That, and killing all the lugs she hires to do a job for her, see.”
          “So . . . let me get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that Sable Mink trained a chimpanzee to shoot you, her loverboy, and his girlfriend?”
          “No . . . I’m telling you Billy shot me. With an antique gun, see. Find it. Test all the bullets. I’ll bet you balls on a ballerina, I’m the only one he shot.”
         “Yeah? Why would you think that?”
         “Listen, wiseguy, I wouldn’t shoot my own mother even if she begged me, capische?”
         “Then what was he doing in the motel room?”
         “I don't know. I'll figure it out.”
         “Ok, so then who hired you to put the lens on Mick? I saw the hole in the wall. Very original. And very Luigi.”
         I don’t answer right away. The death of Elsa is playing havoc with my heart. Finally, the last notes die out. “A Mrs. Robinson.  She was strange, I admit. Wore a thick black veil, and a hat the size of a cannibal’s pot. Claimed to be the victim of an acid thrower. Thought her husband hired muscle. Wanted to prove he had motive to do it."
         “Hmm . . . Mrs. Robinson, huh?" He shakes his head. That's not a good sign, especially when one hair gets jacked out of place. "Mabel, do you know how many women use Mrs. Robinson as a fake name when they get arrested? A ton. Ever heard of the movie, "The Graduate?" I stare at him blankly. "Geez, Louise, let me guess. You only watch black and white movies." I nod slowly. My knees go weak. I screwed up. "Ok, well, here’s what I think: your Mrs. Robinson was actually Sable Mink in disguise! And you totally missed that. Ironic, huh? I mean with you being a psychic private investigator and all.” 
           When Chill chuckles it’s like hearing a clown cry. I’m not in the mood to hear it. I throw my wine glass at him. It lands right in his lap. He jumps up and dabs at the spilled wine with my nice lace doily. Ha! Red wine. Blue jean crotch. Visualize it.  "That's for being sarcastic. Why would Sable hire me, genius?"
         First, he stares at me like he can see the inside of my head and finds it empty. Then he stares at the spreading stain in his jeans. "Dammit, Mabel, these were expensive jeans. I'm charging you up your fine ass—OW!" He rubs a knee and hops a couple of steps.
         I rub a sore fist. Apparently, I'd hit bone. "I'm waiting for your answer, genius cop."
        "To set you up. Think about it, Mabel." He flinches like I'm going to hit him again. When I don't, he flops back down on the couch. “Look, the woman told you exactly where to spy on her husband, right?”
“Uh huh. So?”
“Well, most women know their husbands are cheating, but most don't know the location of hubby's love nest. One reason why they hire dicks like you. So, what did you do with that information after the woman left the office?”
“Called Luigi to set up surveillance.”
“Exactly. By the time that lazy bum got around to it, Mick was most likely already dead.”
“Look, Chill, Sable’s too dumb to pull something off like this.”
“Well, I never said it was completely successful, did I? You’re still alive. Although, I gotta admit, you got lucky there." I think I hear a snicker. "Hard to believe you got duped, Mabel. So, what happened? The ol' psychic powers take a night off?" Another snicker, another flinch, another hit.
  "OW! What was that for?" He rubs the other knee.
          "Practice." Actually, it was personal.
"I swear you hit me again, Mabel, and I'm gonna arrest you for assaulting a police officer. Sometimes, you are one nasty bi—OW!” He jumps up and limps around. Then pulls out a pair of handcuffs. "Ok, I’ve had it, Barlowe! Get up and put your hands behind your back."
         "Fine. But how will you explain it to your cop friends? Oh, this big bad woman with broken ribs hit me in the knees and made me cry! Should go over real well."
         "Son of a bit—gun!" His tookus falls back down on the vinyl. "Sometimes I really hate you, Barlowe."
         This would be a good time to smile. So I do. "Feelings mutual, cutie pie. Now leave. I’m in some serious pain here."
         He grits his teeth. “One more question. You think Sable shot her own boyfriend and his girl?”
“No. Dame’s so blind she couldn’t shoot the front door of a bordello without ringing the bell first. She also has an eye phobia. Doesn’t wear glasses or contacts.”
“That’s screwy. It doesn’t stop her from driving, or from shooting at you, doll.”
“She thinks she’s torturing me, see. She’s not. Although, I gotta admit when she moves objects with her mind it can get dicey. And messy.”
Chill’s sculpted to perfection chin drops a mile. “She’s psychic too? You’re kidding me, right?”
         At least the strands of my hair move when I shake my head. “I’ve seen her in action.”
          Chill snorts like an ostrich in heat. “No way, you musta been drunk on your butt!” Good thing he jumps off the chair and lands a full ten feet away from me. Changes the subject fast. "So, Sable probably put a contract out on the boyfriend then.” He suddenly snaps his fingers. “And I bet it was that looney tunes brother of hers, KIrk.”
         “In England, according to Vera. Psychiatric hospital.”
         “Hmm . . . what about the father, Irk? He’s a real piece of work, that one.”
         “In England, trying to get his son out of the hospital. According to Vera.”
         “What the he—heck is Vera doing keeping tabs on the Minks?”
         “She has to. Remember?” 
         “Oh, that’s right. Boy, your secretary’s rack, I mean your secretary racks up a lot of restraining orders, Mabel.”
         “I blame her rack, too, Chill.” I heave myself off the couch and head to the door. I open it with a flourish. Wait until you see the finish. “Now, get out of here before I glock you.” He approaches me with a light in his eyes, you know, the kind that rolls out the red carpet. What’s that about? When he gets close enough, I say, “Oh right. I don’t have my glock. Somebody confiscated it.” A booted foot solidly connects to his shin. He looks good hopping around. But he doesn’t sound so good. 
         “OW! OW! Oh Holy mother of go-dog!! OW! Shoot! OW! Dammit, Barlowe, one of these days I am really going to throw you into jail.” He limps around trying to shake off the pain. "Until then, I’m keeping a close eye on you . . . from a distance.” He steps out the door.
        “Speaking of eyes, did you pick Roxy Binghorton up for assault?”
        “Can’t find the broad. Which reminds me, anymore bodies show up, you and I are gonna have a come to the Copacabana meeting.”
        “A meeting you should have had with that doozy dame Sable by now. She’s dumped more bodies than a knight in the Crusades. And now her lover’s dead. But you chumps do nothing, see.” 
        “Apparently, Barlowe, the woman is a Mistress of Disguise, she don’t leave witnesses, and she has more hideouts than I have under-drawers. Believe me, we’ve been looking for her.” He groans as he reaches down to rub his shin.
        “She drives a car a maltese could find.” 
         He straightens up quick, and his gorgeous eyes light up. I think I need a cold shower.
        “Wait. I’ve seen that movie, Mabel. Two words, overrated.”
        Then he opens his mouth, see!
        I slam the door shut. The doorbell rings again. I open it. Mistake. A crooked pair of lips lock on mine like a drone on a terrorist compound. When it fires a heat-seeking missile, I push him away. “No.” Simple but effective. Like throwing a glass of red wine at a blue jean crotch.
        He smiles. “Had you there for a sec. Ya gotta admit.”
        “Yeah, like a wounded animal caught by a predator.” I glare at him.
        “Your grandma told me you were dead. I’m expressing my joy that you're not.”
        “Nobody with brains believes anything my grandma says.” I slam the door shut. Again.
Irritated, I totter off to the bedroom. My cell phone goes off. Martin Cooper is the father of the cell phone. I’d like to sew his ears shut, see. I find the thing buried in my empty holster. “Mamie Barlowe, ace psychic detective speaking.” I can bark like a great dane going nuts over a burglar. “This better be good! I am holding a remote device powered by sonar that will melt your phone in less than two seconds.”
        “Ms. B-B-Barlowe? . . . Uh . . . you’re joking, right?”
        “Who is this?”
        “Clarence B-B-Binghorton III. I—”
        “Why are you stuttering Mr. COB III? You didn’t in my office.”
        “What are you t-t-talking about, Ms. B-B-Barlowe? I’ve never b-b-been to your office. I got your name from a receipt I just found in my wife’s wasteb-b-basket. I’d like to know why she hired you!”
        Will someone on Mars please catch my eyeballs! What the devil is going on here? “Mr. COB III, it’s late. I was shot two days ago. An old lady tried to exorcise me this morning. Tonight, I was shot at twice. I think you will understand why I’m going to hang up in approximately one-half second. Be in my office tomorrow at 2:00. Bring a birth certificate and a genealogical chart, capische?” 
        “What? I d-d-don’t—hello? . . . Hello? . . . Ms. B-B-Barlowe?”
       Guess cell phones weren’t made to fly, see. Mine shatters on its maiden flight to the nearest wall!