Turn away! Turn away!

I have a beard. It's covered my face for over thirty years. My daughter when young had never seen me without a beard and my son didn't remember my not having one. Anytime I went home for a visit my mother would say what mothers always say to their sons, "I wish you would shave that thing. I miss your face."
Personally I liked my beard. It covered my face. And there was always the fact that I didn't have to scrape that razor over my face every single morning.

"I think I'll shave my beard," I said to my, then, wife.
"Why?" she asked. "I'm used to it now."
"What about the kids? Don't they ever wonder what their daddy looks like?"
"They just know you as you have always been to them. A hairy faced man."
"Yeah, but I'm curious what their reaction would be."
"Why would you even care?" she asked.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm tired of looking at it myself. A change would do us all good. I think my mother would especially like the gesture."
"Yeah, well, if that's what you want to do."
"I'll think about it for a while."
Each morning for about a month I looked into the mirror and thought, 'Yeah, it would be a change." But I never actually took out the clippers to start on it. Laziness usually won out.
"Christmas is coming up," she, who must be obeyed, said. "Are we going to your folks' house this year?"
"Yeah, I'd like that."
We began to make plans for the holiday. I considered my face in the mirror as I had for the last month or two but once again shrugged and decided, 'Naah, too lazy.'
The drive to Charleston was long and the kids were getting cranky.
"It won't be too much longer and we'll be at your grandparent's," I said as we turned for Johns Island around 10 in the morning.
The kids jumped from the car and ran to the house. My folks came into the yard to catch a kid apiece. Everyone walked in as I began to unload the car. I opened the screen door to drag in the bags.
"Do you need some help?"
"No thanks, I got it now."
"Oh son we should have helped," said my mother playing with my son.
"It's OK. I got 'em all."
"Granddaddy's going to show me how to play patience," said Kyndall as I toted the bags to the back.
When I got back to the front I hugged my mother hello. It was her chance to say, "That beard is scratchy. How do you stand it, dear?" she said to her daughter-in-law.
"I'm used to it. He'll never shave it."
"He used to be so handsome without it. You sure you won't shave it off?"
"Mmm, I don't think so." That was that moment I decided I would. A Christmas present for my mother and a surprise for the kids. It might brighten up the day, I thought.
While everyone slept that Christmas Eve night I sneeked into the bathroom. I clipped and shaved until my skin was smooth. I looked thinner. Guess the whiskers were fuller than I realized.
That morning while the kids were excited about opening presents I slipped in without being noticed to sit in the small rocker in the corner.
"Look at this mommy!" yelled Kyndall excited about the gift she had just unwrapped. She looked up to see me sitting in the rocker and froze.
"Who's that man, mommy?" She pointed at me and everyone turned.
"That's your daddy," said Derek who had seen me clean shaven before this.
"He's scary," she said crawling into her mother's lap.
"It's OK, Kyndall. I'm still your daddy."
"Nuh uh. you're not my daddy." She seemed a bit afraid. "I know my daddy."
"I just shave off the beard, sweety. You'll get used to it."
The entire time my mother had been looking at my clean shaven face. She hadn't smiled once. This was my gift to her. For months, no, years, she had been telling me she wished I'd shave those whiskers so she could see her son again. Now she was frowning.
"Well, Merry Christmas," I said. "I shaved it off for you. Scared my kids but here's my face again. Your boy, clean shaven."
She didn't speak for almost two minutes. She just studied my face with that frown deepening.
"Maybe you should grow it back."
I am not able to explain the shock I felt at those words coming from my own mother's mouth.
"Maybe you should grow it back." They are burned into my brain.

I grew it back. Everyone seemed so much happier. My mother has never asked me to shave again. The fright must have been too much.

Who drew first?

They sat on my hips. Two weapons of carnage. Their silver barrels decorated with ornate patterns. Their handles of pearl shown white against the brown leather holding them close to my side. They were held firmly in place but not so firmly they couldn't be whipped free in a second. It happened rarely but when it was time to slap leather I cleared it quickly with a blast and spit of fire that left many lying in the dirt. I was paying for that now.
They were after me, hot on my trail. Their efforts had lead me here in this cavern. The opening was high and wide leading into the darkness in the back. I was standing to the side of the opening into that darkness hidden from the ones who had chased me in. My Colts were in my hands in preparation for the rush.
Beyond the opening I could see movement. From tree to tree they ran for cover, coming closer. I leaned out from my protection and blasted away. My shots went wild cracking into trees and ricocheting off rocks. Their approach was steady. My doom was nigh.
"Come out, waco. We got you surrounded."
I recognized the voice. It was Leroy the kid. His gun was as fast as mine. He had been trying to force my hand for months. I had ignored him. My only shots at him had been oral. His response was growing hatred.
"You don't have a chance so it's time to step out and face me like a man!"
"Yeah, you can't beat me any other way, Leroy!" I shouted. "You and your buddies ganging up on me. You'd never stand alone man to man."
"You are wrong, Waco. I'll stand alone face to face. Come out now and we can do this like real men."
"I don't trust you, Kid. Your gang will cut me down the minute I show my face."
"No they won't. You heard me boys, stand down. Me and Waco are gonna have it out here and now."
His goons answered his request by shouting out, "You got it Kid. We'll let both of you face down."
"And who's to say they won't blast me the minute I put a slug through your black heart, Kid?" I shouted out from behind my wall.
"If Waco wins this throw down, then you boys gotta let him go," shouted the Kid.
"That's fine with us!" they shouted back.
"Hahahah! Looks like your boys don't care too much about your life," I laughed.
"I think thy're hankerin' to have lunch and they are getting tired of our little feud. So come on out, Waco. Let's get it over with."
My out fit blended into the dark of the cavern. I pulled my hat down over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Adjusting my dual Colts I stepped into the sunlight. "Alright, Kid. It's finally come to this. Back up and give me some room."
Leroy the Kid back up several paces. He hitched his six shooter with a quick movement of his hands to settle it at his side. Planting his bowed legs firmly, he watched me mozy to my spot ten paces from him. Facing him I held my hands just above the butt of my guns.
"When you're ready, draw!" I said.
"I can't draw until you draw!" he shouted at me.
"Well, somebody's got to draw first."
"It ain't gonna be me."
"It ain't gonna be me neither," I said back.
"Oh come on!" Shouted one of the Kid's gang. "My mom's already called once for me to come home. You gotta stop thinking about the good guy code and draw."
"He's right," said the Kid. "I heard my ma too. If I don't show up soon, I'll get a whoopin'."
"Yeah? Ya ma gonna give you a whippin'? Better draw then so's you can git home to ya ma."
"You can't be draggin' my ma into this!"
"Oh yeah?" My mother was at work. If I wanted lunch I made it myself. She left the peanut butter and jelly within reach along with the bread right there on the kitchen table. I didn't even have to eat a lunch if I didn't wanna.
'So draw, Kid. If you don't your ma's gonna whip your butt. She'll probably make you pick the switch to do it. So draw!"
"You quit talkin' 'bout my ma!" Shouted the Kid. I saw his hand quivering right above his iron.
"Your ma's gonna whip your butt, hahahahahahahah!"
It was too much. Down went his hand for his gun. Up it came blasting. Mine was out of leather and into the air as I dropped to my knee. "Blam! Blam! Blam!" The caps rolled up popping with each pull of the trigger. "I got you! You're dead!" I screamed at the standing Kid.
"Nuh uh! You missed a mile."
"You never hit me 'cause I dropped to my knee and you were aiming at thin air. My shots rang true. You're deader than a mackeral."
"You tricked me."
"You drew first. You're the bad guy and bad guys always get what's coming to them," I stated. It was the code of the kid's west. Whoever drew first was the bad guy. He was always the one drilled for his treachery.
"I'm the good guy. I win!"
"How can you be the good guy dressed in black?"
"I'm Hoppy playing the part of Waco to draw you out into the light of day. So you're the bad guy and you're dead!"
"Hoppy?"
"Yeah, black from head to toe with a heart of pure gold and a head for pure justice. Me and my hoss Topper ride the west searching out evil doers to bring them to justice. You just got yours."
"I gotta go, Rickey. That's the third time my momma's called out. I'll get you next time."
"I don't think so Leroy!" I laughed as he beat his retreat. I watched him run across the street and into his house. The screen door slammed behind him. "Don't slam that door!" I heard come from his house.

I turned and mozied up the steps. I had a jar of Peter Pan waiting for me along with a glass of Welch's grape jelly. One more sandwich and a washup would provide me with another jelly glass sporting my favorite cartoon character, Bugs Bunny, painted on the side.

Super Bowl cancelled?

"Got chips?"
"Check."
"Got barbecue?"
"Pork or beef?"
"Pork."
"Check."
"Got pizzas?"
"On the way, pizza delivery."
"Got beer?"
"Do I got beer? See that keg? See those coolers?"
"Those barrels lining the far wall? And those stainless steel monstrosities? Are those refrigerators?"
"Yep. All of 'em packed with beer."
"How many people are you expecting?"
"My screen is the biggest in the neighborhood so everybody."
"Sure you got enough food?"
"See the tables? All of them have the middle leaf installed. The food trays will be ready well before the pre-pre-pre-game show."
"I think you may be ready."
"Did you hear that?"
"What?"
"That boom?"
"No."
"Probably nothing. Car back fire in the next neighborhood maybe."
"Whoa! That's quite a wind rattling the windows. Maybe a sonic boom from a low flying jet."
"Honey! The lights just went off. Can you check the fuse box?"
"What? The hell you say!"
"Yeah, the kitchen light just blew and the stove isn't working."
"Alright, don't panic I'll check it out. Bring the flashlight, will ya buddy."
"Sure."
"Hmmm. The breaker is down. Maybe I got one refrigerator too many."
"Could be the stove, fridge, kegs and 72 inch screen are over suckin' too much power."
"There. That should do it."
"Nope. Still no power."
"Let's go next door. See if Hank has power."
"You know it's awful quiet out here."
"Looks like rain headed this way. Look over to the North there."
"Yeah, mighty dark cloud approaching."
"Hey, Hank. Did your electricity go off?"
"Yeah, it did. Tried to call the power company but no answer."
"Well, it is Sunday."
"True but they do have a computer that tells you if there is a problem and how long it will be before it's solved."
"Wonder why those jets are so high?"
"Those aren't jets. They look more like rockets."
"Which way are they headed?"
"Looks like they are going east."
"Wonder what the heck is going on?"
"Still got that portable that runs on batteries?"
"Yeah, Lemme get it."
"Hey my iPhone isn't working."
"It must be serious. Wait, are you Verizon or AT&T?"
"AT&T. Why?"
"That could be your problem. Not known for their dependability."
"Hey I found it. Got some batteries?"
"Better get that dust off first."
"Tune to CONELRAD."
"Huh? What the hell's that?"
"Don't they still have CONELRAD?"
"Man you must be from the 50's or something."
"Well turn to CNN."
"Hell, cable must be out. This thing is useless if it is. All the stations are HD now so this old thing won't pick up anything."
"How the hell are we going to watch the game if cable's out?"
"Probably won't be a game if those were missiles. Might be some kind of emergency. Then the game would be called off."
"No way. Super Bowl number 46? It's a tradition! It's a holiday! It's un-American to calloff the Super Bowl!"
"If that boom earlier was an attack or something I think it would out way Super Bowl."
"You're wrong! No way they're gonna call off the biggest game of the year especially the amount of money those people spent on commercials."
"Yeah, but if the country can't see 'em..."
"Whattaya mean? You think this is more than just the neighborhood?"
"It's possible. Could be the country is under attack. Those Iraynees have been threatenin' for aa while. They got the bomb by now since our prez let 'em. They got missiles too. You seen that article about them putting a satellite into orbit?"
"Huh? When'd that happen?"
"I don't know. Coupla weeks ago?"
"So they picked Super Bowl Sunday to attack?"
"Well, I don't know. Just offering the worst case scenario."
"Maybe we better join up?"
"Let's wait til after the game."
"I'm sayin' there might not be a game."
"Call up the prez and tell him to fire a few nukes over there. That should take care of them. "Then we can have the evening free to watch the game."
"I don't know. If they do that the prez will be interrupting the game to tell us what's going on."
"If he want's to get back into office he knows better than interrupt the Super Bowl. Mitt would have him on a platter if he done that."
"Yeah, Mitt's gonna kick his butt."
"You don't know that for sure. If there's a war we won't want to change horses mid stream."
"What the hell you talking about. Ain't no horses around. Sometimes I think you're buried in the 50's. This is the twenty-first century now. We are so much beyond horses."
"NO, what I'm trying to say..."
"Hey, quiet. The radio still works. Let's find a news station."
"Music. Music. Rap, I hate rap. Music. 50's. Hey here's something you can feel at home with. Rush. He's just too smart for me. I get confused by his innalekchul talk. Here we are."
"We know now that in the early years of the twentieth century this world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own..."
"Oh turn it. Get some news."
"All I get is music and talk show. Let's go back."
"We interrupt this music to bring you a special bulletin. It is reported that at 8:50 a huge flaming object, believed to be a meeorite, fell on a farm in the neighborhood of Grovers Mill, New Jersey, twenty-two miles from Trenton."
"Oh, who cares?"
"Wait, listen."
"Why are you listening to that bunk. We don't care about meteors in yankee land."
"Listen..."
"...I can see peering out of that black hole two luminous discs....are they eyes?"
"What the hell?"
"Good heavens, something's wriggling out of the shadow like a gray snake...."
"They said there were metal cylinders with these critters coming out. It's more than Iraynees it's...it's...MARTIANS!"
"What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?"
"Can't it wait til after the game?"
"Ain't gonna be no game it there's Martians!"
"HEY! HEY! Slow down. It's a radio broadcast from 1938. You tuned in to Old Time Radio. Haven't you heard about Orson Welles and his Halloween broadcast?"
"HUH?"
"Good thing You got a guy caught up in the 50's. Ain't it? Call the power company again, Hank."
"OK. Thank you. Hey Guys. It's alright. A squirrel go caught up in a relay station and shorted out the entire region."
"They gonna get it fixed before the game?"
"They got eight trucks out. All eight guys will be back in their living rooms watching the game with us he assured me."
"Well we coulda flattend those Iraynees by five anyway. Games not on til six or so."
"Yeah, but all that pregame stuff.. We'da missed it."
True enough. Let's go get a beer."
"It's only eight AM."
Yeah, but it's Super Bowl Sunday."
"True Enough."

A new blog to follow

Those of you who enjoy talented artists, you have to go to the new blog amongst those I follow.  Go to this site and be completely blown away.
 http://dana-draws.blogspot.com/ 


You won't be disappointed.

Whattaya mean it ain't ready?

"We have a pill for that."
"Do you? I want more than just an aspirin or tylenol. I think it's beyond advil as well," she said.
"Anything else would require a prescription ma'am," I responded.
"You couldn't maybe slip me one of those stronger ones?" Her wink was very suggestive.
"No ma'am. You need to see your doctor. It's the only way."
"Fine. Do what you do best and direct me to the chicken wings." I pointed to aisle 6.
"Over there in the freezer department." She left in a huff.
I resumed my typing.
"Hey, buddy!"
I was almost fininshed with the label for prescription number twelve of the forty-three lined up to be filled.
"Hey, you! Behind the counter."
"I'm so sorry, sir. I was distracted by the work I have to do back here." I turned my full attention to my customer.
"What can I do for you sir?" I leaned towards him.
"I got this problem."
"Yes."
"I need you to look at it. Lemme behind the counter."
"I'm sorry, sir. That isn't allowed."
"But I gotta show you my problem."
"Wel, go ahead. Show me."
"It's kind of embarrassing, doc. It's..."
"I'm a professional. You can show me." I said this thinking it was probably a rash on his stomach. I was new to this retail pharmacist role having passed my boads only a few weeks prior to this conversation.
I was wrong.
"OK. If you say so." The man in front of me unbuckled his belt and tugged his zipper down dropping his pants. Next his underwear.
"I got this rash here. Can you see it? Get closer, doc. It's driving me crazy."
The woman an aisle over fainted. The three on the next aisle were gathering for the show. The manager who normally sat in his boxed window above the floor was running down the aisle.
"Stop that!" He yelled. The ladies were sniggering as a crowd gathered.
"Uh, I think you better put that away. Your best bet is a doctor. That looks like something that is gonna need more than you can get over the counter."
He quickly pulled his pants up and rebuckled his belt. "So you can't do nothin'?" he asked.
"I'm sorry. That needs a doctor's attention."
"Can you give me some idea what's wrong down there?"
"I would hate to hazard a guess at this point. I suggest you go to the doctor's office down the street. He'll take you in. Tell him I sent you." Our friend Dr. H-- was a block away and we had good relations with him.
"You should go now." My suggestion sounded like an order because I saw the uniform come through the front door. "And try to slip past that cop. He isn't one to appreciate the professional consult in this instance."
"Oh, OK doc. See ya," he said making a hasty retreat through aisle two.
The policeman rapped on the counter.
"Yes, officer?"
"I hear tell you got a prevert 'spozin' himself back here."
"No, officer. Nothing of the kind. An over zealous customer who had me look at a rash in a delicate place. It was a misunderstanding."
"So what's these ladies giggling about?"
"You'd have to ask them, sir. I have to get back to work." With that I returned to my typewriter. I had a tech who was supposed to be in by this time. I took a minute to call.
her phone rang over and over so I hung up after twenty rings.
She tapped me on the shoulder.
"Yike!" I jumped.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"Where the heck have you been? We've been open for two hours. Can you see how far behind I am?"
"Maybe if you didn't have your customers strip you'd be finished by now," she laughed.
"Very funny. Not my fault. He dropped trou before I could stop him."
"I was impressed," she said. "Except for that..."
"So how long were you standing there?"
"Long enough," She broke into a loud cackle which was echoed by the women still grouped in the aisle close to my counter.
"Alright! That's enough. That young man had a very personal problem that had him quite worried. Let's get on with our lives here."
The small crowd dispersed. I went back to my typing. The phone had been ringing constantly but I'd been ignoring it with all the commotion.
My tech began getting the prescriptions lined up. The phone was still riinging. I looked at her. She ignored me as well as the phone. Finally I grabbed it.
"Hello."
"Hello, this is Dr. S-- I want you tofillaprescriptionforampicillinandtriaminicformypatient--give250mgqidforsevendaysandtriaminictidoneteaspoon. click."
"That's ampicillin... Hello. Hello. Doc? Could you repeat that please?"
"Hey, pharmacist. You back there!"
I was trying to figure which Dr. S-- had just called so I could call back and find out what he meant his patient to have. He was a little to quick for me.
"Hey! You! My doctor called in a prescription! I'm here to pick it up. I'm in a hurry."
Frustrated I hung up the phone. When that person comes in I'll have to find out who the doctor is and call him back, I was thinking as I turned my attention to my customer.
"May I help you?" I said as friendly as I could.
"Yeah. I got a prescription should be ready by now."
"Name please?" He told me. I checked the bin holding all finished prescriptions. Nothing. I checked all the prescriptions my tech had lined up. Nothing.
"I'm sorry sir. I don't find anything. Do you spell that with a C or a K?"
"Whadaya mean you don't have it? My doctor said he was going to call it in."
"Who was your doctor?"
"Dr. S---."
Oh Shi.., I thought. This is the guy getting the ampicillin.
"I'm sorry sir. I'll have to give your doctor a call. I don't seem to have that one yet."
"What?! He said he was calling it in. It should be ready. Check again."
Being civil I went through the motions. The phone was still ringing. Other customers were dropping off their prescriptions. A line was forming behind Mr. Belligerent. I could see the faces frowning up and toes tapping. It didn't matter that the customer at the front of the line was making a scene. They wanted their prescriptions and were wondering why they weren't ready. A day in the life, I thought to myself.
"Sorry sir. I don't see it."
"Well, call my doctor! He may be real busy. He may not have had time to call it in. You need to call him now!"
"Yessir," I said. "Please bear with me folks. I'm a little backed up."
"You know how long I've been waiting?" said one customer.
Toward the back of the line I heard, "What's taking so long? I handed my prescription to you ten minutes ago."
"I don't have time to wait this long. Gimme mine back. I'll take it to Soandso pharmacy. They don't take this long."
"As soon as I help this man, I'll be right with you."
"I don't care. Gimme my prescription."
I told my tech to give it to her. She took the filled bottle off the scrip and scratched through the number on it. "Here you go ma'am. And you have a good day." She handed it to her.
"It was a good day til I came here. Slowest service ever."
I was on the phone waiting on someone to answer as she walked out.
"Dr. S--'s office. May I help you?"
"Yes. Hello. This is Rick at Suchandsuch Pharmacy. I think Dr. S-- called in a prescription for mr. C---. I'm sorry but I need to clarify his order." The receptionist found the patient's profile and read back the prescription to me. I copied it down and repeated it to her.
"Thank you, miss." I hung up. "Alright, sir, I have your prescriptions. Please have a seat and I'll get to them as quickly as I can."
"You know what?"
"No sir, What?" I asked.
"I don't want 'em."
"Yessir that is your choice, but I'd like to remind you that your doctor ordered an antibiotic. It would be best if you took it as prescribed. You don't want to get sicker do you?"
"I'll take my chances. You guys just want to rip me off. The doc got his so now you're gonna get yours. Not this time, buddy."
I watched him leave. His next stop was the liquor store across the way. Funny, people will spend big bucks on booze but resent a pharmacy it's pay for something meant to keep them healthy. They willingly pay for booze and its detriment to the liver with a huge smile, I thought to myslelf.
"Ok. Who's next?" I said with a smile. Only four more hours and I'd be able to have a pack of nabs and a coke while typing. Lunch wasn't a thirty minute sit down in a pharmacy. Nope. One ate on the run and smiled at every disgruntled patient handing a prescription across the counter. Those twelve hour days were certainly a joy to some pharmacists but I found them to be tedious, trying and highly uanappreciated by those shelling out their hard earned dollars to the man behind the high counter.
There were those few who were a joy to serve. I do have some memories of those folks who allowed the time necessary for filling prescriptions. Some forget that the medicines handed out by a licensed professional can be life or death. A few minutes to double check can save a life. No one knows the pressures better than a harried pharmacist.
"Hey, you!" said the lady standing at the counter. Only eight more hours to go.

Sitt and Poot

Poot Manwich had just lost the battle. It seems his baggage was too heavy to lug from one public appearance to another. His opponent, Sitt Dumbly, seemed light on his feet without carrying so much luggage. His smile was tepid but constant as he stared vacantly at Poot talking on about his constitution.
Poot blasted the moderator for asking a question he thought was impertinant and salacious in content.
"It's a matter of record. You can't ask a question that has no bearing on this campaign and expect to waste time giving it credence when my constitution is at risk. Our people need to look beyond a man's foibles. I know tha everyone here has something in his or her past that they would prefer the media not pick up on."
Sitt continued to stare statue-like, his mild grin fixed, at Poot. Normally the audience would be able to see the wheels turning in the mind of a candidate while he had time to consider what was being said by his opponent. This wasn't the case with Sitt. His face was a placid grin with eyes fixated.
Poot's mouth kept moving, "I don't see the problem anyone would have with my request of my ex-wife about wanting an open carriage. I was an important man in those days and my audience, uh, my public, uh, my constitchents needed a full view of me. I..."
The moderator broke in. "No, Secretary Manwich, it wasn't open carriage. Our sources say you spoke of open marriage."
"Oh, well... Never mind. I have nothing to say about my past and the mistakes I've made. I'm looking ahead and not behind. It's a disgrace you would even mention such a thing on TV like this. Let's move on. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"Let me add that it wasn't our network that broke this story..."
"Let's move on. It's a disgrace that I think you should let go, like I want the sheep, uh..people out there to do."
"You mention sheep..."
"OK, enough about my past. Let's get on with the issues facing us all."
The applause was accentuated by the sound of the entire audience standing.
Poot smiled. He had them in his hands.
Sitt was lost in his own world still staring at Poot, his maudling grin fixed.
"Governor Dumbly do you have anything to say about this matter of great concern to our audience?"
Sitt turned toward the moderator his chest ballooning out and his smile slipping into animated words.
"I think it's vitally important that the background of a man be aired to see what our people have to choose. Here we have a man who has so much in his past that points to what he will be in the future that we must open it up to public scrutiny. He's taken money from Fanny Hill who was a poor and destitute woman of poor means who had to earn a living the best she could. I think it's shameful that he would do such a thing. Some would give such activity the moniker pimp but I don't want to bring such a word into this campaign," he said his smile slowly filing across his face.
"Uh, Governor, I think you mean Fannie Mae. You're thinking of a novel written in the 1700's."
"Oh, I can't have all my facts straight. It's my handler's they handle everything for me. I don't have those facts on the tip of my tongue."
"Well, speaking of facts, something new to this campaign, could you please tell us why you have not released info on your taxls. Poot has released his as of this morning."
"That's right. My taxis are there for all to see. I always use Mellow Cab."
"Uh, why do you bring that up? I haven't done that because I wanted to wait until I'm the Stumblecan candidate on the ballot against The Dentalcat O'Dammit. I see no reason to give out that info now. I am not ashamed of my success. My fleet of limousines is so far above a Mellow Cabs that those who handle them haven't had time to present paperwork. I will have them file the info when I feel the time is right. And, for those of you able to afford it, my limos offer a much smoother ride along with accouterments far beyond the leather seats smelling of tobacco and vomit that Poot's Mellow Cabs offer. Go for the elegant ride."
"Unfair!" shouted Poot. "He was given free ad time."
"He did slip one in there didn't he? Now on with the show," said the moderator. "Senator Ron Saul, do you have anything to add?"
"Well, the real problem here is..."
"Thank you, Senator. Well said."
"Well, Mick Planatarium, what do you have to add?"
"Thank you for my moment in the spotlight. I'm here by a fluke and don't really know what to say at this point. Maybe in the next show I can get myself together."
"Thank you sir."
"Now back to the two men we want to play with for the rest of the season, Poot Manwich and Sitt Dumbly."
"Speaker Poot, do you have anything to add for our audience?"
"I'd like to say that I am the man. I did so much for this country in the past that it shouldn't have to be regurgitated every ten minutes on the TV. Just remember I was important and I can be important again."
"And, you, Govenor Dumbly?"
"I say dredge up the past of this man. See how he stumbled and fell while he was in the public eye. I'm all for exposing his fallabilities but don't go asking about mine just because I'm successful. I'm a leader. I'm the man who can beat O'Dammit and don't you forget it."
The moderator looked at the other two candidates and with a shake of his head said, "Do you guys have anything further?"
Senator Saul looked at the camera and said, "This is all wrong. We need to talk about the economy or the country is going to ..."
"Thank you, Senator Saul. And you, Mick?"
"I'd like to thank everyone who gave me a chance to stand here toni...."
"And thank you, too, Mick Planatarium. That's our show tonight folks. Tune in again next week when we hope our coverage will wittle the contestants down to the two we want to egg on until they rip the Stumblecan party apart and we can continue to gloss over the bumbling of the present occupant of the White House. It's our intention to report all the news as we see fit so that we can lead all of you out there in televison land where we want you to go. Good night all."

Thar she glows.... my nose

"Hey nef. Wanna crack a seal?" It was Clyde with his usual invitation.
"You know that's my favorite sound in all the world. You coming by?"
"Yeah, see you in a few."
I had just gotten home from a long Friday of late classes when the phone had rung. It was the best ending for a difficult week at C o C. That place was tougher than any school I'd ever attended. Well RTS and JIHS were just preparation, I know, but I began to realize that preparation was not what it should have been. 'It could have been me,' ran through my head briefly during such thoughts. My problem was I enjoyed enjoying more than I did working at working. Getting those A's wasn't going to be the cakewalk I'd been through the privious twelve years. Aaah, who cared? It was Friday. The road into the night called and my unk had a new bottle of Calverts Extra.
The rumbling of his pipes grew louder as he came down the street.
"I'm going out!" I yelled at my folks as I slipped past the TV room.
"Whoa, son. Where are you going?" My dad suddenly took an interest in my destination.
"Clyde's outside. We were just going to ride over to the Patio. Meet some friends."
'Please be careful, son. Remember to call us if you need a ride home."
"I'll be with Clyde. That won't be necessary."
"I'm just saying, if it should be necessary. YOu have a dime to call?"
"Yessir. Right here." I lifted the old Mercury head dime into view.
"Alright then. You two be careful." He had a pained expression as I turned to leave. His interest always peeked when I was riding with Clyde, but he never tried to stop me.
When I had started high school his relationship with me had changed. I remember when it happened. We were raking leaves. Let me rephrase that. My dad was raking leaves. I was leaning on my rake day dreaming. My granddad had been over one day helping my dad in the yard years before. He saw me in that same stance back then and remarked to my dad, "You know. Kids are only good for two things." "What's that?" my dad had asked. "Eatin' and shittin'." That scene was one that floated through my mind on such rake leaning occasions along with so much else.
Dad saw me leaning and had decided this was the time.
"Son, you want to listen up for a minute?" He said holding his rake to the side.
I started raking with quick strokes knowing I would get a lecture on hard work and how good it was for you.
"No, no. Don't rake for a minute."
This was new. He usually talked about my grasshopper habits. That's the grasshopper that fiddled while the ant worked his behind off. Not this time though. He had a wrinkled brow. That wasn't normal. His next words took a while to come.
"You're getting older now. You'll be in high school this fall. It's time I talked to you."
'You always talk to me when I'm goofing off, I thought.
"I'll try to do better," I said. That usually cut talks short. He would nod and say, "I know you will," and go about his business.
"Yeah, I know but this is different. I need to talk to you about life and such." He seemed nervous. It was a new side of my dad. I'd received lectures all my life. Some punctuated with a heavy hand to my posterior. I knew the look that came with such moments. This wasn't one of them. My dad had sweat on his forehead. I didn't think anything of it since he'd been raking for an hour.
'Um, you, um. Well, where do I ... Um." He started to rake while he was talking. I'd never heard him hum and hah like this.
"Um... Birds and...bees...um. Oh hell. I know you are aware of the facts of life. You've heard it all from you friends. I'm sure Clyde has told you a lot. So, if you have any questions, I'm saying you can ask me. Now or later."
I stared at him dumb-founded. He was leaning on his rake now, staring at me. He was right about one thing, I'd heard a lot of baffling stuff. As to Clyde, he'd told me lots of stuff but none of it sounded quite possible and he'd said it with that crooked grin that usually meant he was having me on. But my dad was telling me it was alright to come to him to ask questions. I could never do that. It wasn't possible to approach this man who had been so stern his entire life with questions of a delicate nature.
Sex was what he was hinting at. I would never be able to speak with him about that.
"Uh, OK," I said.
"Oh, good. Glad that's over with." He turned his back and began raking a little faster.
That was our talk. That was my official introduction to the facts of life. Dad was relieved. I was relieved. It was done, never to be mentioned again, by either of us.
Clyde was waiting in the drive, the deep rumble of pipes under the '57 Ford sounding like Thunder Road. He saw me at the door and revved the V-8 filling the fall air with a roar heard across the Stono.
"Get in. The Patio awaits."
I slammed the door. He backed out and roared off. At the stop sign I asked, "Where's that seal I get to break?"
He reached under the seat an pulled out a pint.
"Here you go, nef."
Cups and chaser sat in the seat between us.
SNAP!
"Love that sound." I poured some into the plastic cups.
"Pour it like it ain't yours, nef."
I added some to his, then poured cocola to the brim.
We both drank. The Ford found its way to the Patio. He pulled into a slot. One of the waitresses came out.
"Whatcha gonna have, handsome? Whadda you want, Rickey?" There was always a distinct difference in the way we were asked.
She hung around the window for a while until another car parked across from us under the rain shelter.
Our stay there was punctuated by visits from all his buddies. Most of the girls who drove up had to spend a few minutes with him. The entire time we were mixing drinks and downing them.
"Well, another soldier dead," I said holding up the empty pint bottle.
"And another live one to the rescue," he said pulling a second one from beneath his seat. I began to think there was a cornucopia of Calverts beneath that seat. No matter, we cracked that seal and started in. My head was light as a feather. The talk began to float in and out when someone said, "Ever seen the light at Summerville?"
"What's that?" I asked.
"It's a ghost that walks along a road in Summerville. Some woman back in the 1800's used to meet her husband at the train station until one time he never came back because he was killed. They say she still walks to where the station was carrying a lantern."
"Sounds like a crock to me," I said with a laugh.
"Why not? We got nothin' else to do. Let's ride out there." Clyde seemed enthusiastic so I agreed. What else was I going to do? I was in his car.
I don't remember much about the ride to the stretch of lonely road. It was close to midnight. We sat in the dark staring out the windshield. The night was kind of a blur as my eyes slowly blinked into dozes.
"Look!" Clyde's shout woke me. "See that?"
There in front of us was a pinpoint of light.
"I see a speck of light way down the road there."
"Yeah, that's it."
"That's the light? Big deal."
We sat watching.
"It looks like it's getting bigger to me," said Clyde staring beyond the hood.
It did appear to be increasing in size.
"Is it waving back and forth?"
"It looks like an old time lantern swaying back and forth like somebody carrying it."
"Hey, it is getting bigger."
"No, it's getting closer not bigger."
"You think it's true? Do you think it's a real ghost?"
"Anything is possible, I guess."
"How close do you suppose it will get?"
"Wait. It isn't moving now. It stopped."
It was there. It had increased double the size it had been when we first saw it. We stared for a minute quietly.
Then it was gone. We waited for about ten minutes, but there was only darkness.
"Kinda gives me the creeps," I said.
"Yeah, let's go." Clyde cranked the car. The engine roared as he spun onto the roadway. We were quiet on the way home. When he dropped me off it was early in the morning. The lights in the house were off. I had to stumble in as quietly as a drunk can manage. I forgot about the light in Summerville as I slipped into my bed and promptly fell into a deep sleep.