Thursday, November 20, 2003
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Unloading trucks in the pouring rain is a good thing.
Driving home in it is not.
Driving home in it is not.
Hahaha! I love Max Cannon.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Sunday, November 16, 2003
There is no such thing as H2O
Friday, November 14, 2003
Wrote some last night, only about 1000 words. Need to get my ass in gear. Don't really know where this is going anymore, at least for the moment. Probably because I was feeling all serious and gloomy after reading Jason's submission because it is all serious and stuff. So I wasn't exactly in the kind of mood the writing I am doing right now requires. I just wish I could actually write dialogue. Anyway, last night's minimal effort:
Alright, so what is everyone thinking right now? Something dark and sinister has started to come into Rick’s life, but what is it? And why doesn’t he remember it? And what will Michael do when he finds out? And is Mephistopheles one of those cute cats, or just kind of scary? All this, and more, will be revealed in next month’s issue of…wait, no. That’s not right at all. There aren’t any issues, really. Just…uh, you know…stuff. And…things.
Groovy.
It is just before six thirty in a really clean apartment. An alarm clock is about to go off. MEHH! MEHH! And there it goes! MEHH! MEHH! Oh wait, no. That is the wrong apartment. And the wrong time. It is just before seven in a really rather messy apartment. An alarm clock is about to go off. Click.
“Are you serious, Chuck?”
“Yes I am, Larry, yes I am! Today will be totally cloud free and a nice scorching ninety degrees today! No cool breeze for any of us!”
“Alright, and now to Gale to look at the traf…” The voice was abruptly silent. That is because a hand slammed on to the snooze button. But the owner of this hand, who really needs to trim his fingernails, did not go back to sleep, but got up, turned off the alarm, and yawned. Michael Roberts did his usual morning routine. He ate the same…
What? Yes, yesterday was supposed to be normal, but it was not. It was so amazingly not normal that…
Say again?
What?? Of course everything changed! Come on, it is not that hard to figure out what was so monumental about yesterday in Michael Roberts’ life.
Yes, Gloria, but she is only part of it. And not in the way one might think.
Uh huh, Rick’s little situation is definitely the beginnings of drama and angst.
Yes, it will all make sense later. And all will be revealed.
No, it will not be revealed now. It will be revealed later.
Can the story just continue? Shut up. The story needs to be told!
Okay, now that everyone is at least partially satisfied with the build up of drama in a thoroughly crappy way, on to the magnificent second day of the story. Or something. Yes, that phrase will be used continuously throughout this work, as it is the author’s intention to cause the reader to have some doubts about the validity of the voice acting as narrator and to make it seem like said voice does not know what it is doing, even though it clearly does. And he also thinks it is a funny word. Or rather, he thinks that something is a funny word. It is not as funny as something, though it does have its own peculiar characteristics that make it rather popular at cocktail parties.
Michael Roberts went to work with absolutely nothing remarkable or eventful happening.
Until he got to work.
Or rather, absolutely nothing remarkable or eventful happened until about fifteen minutes after he got to work.
Well, it was not so much that something remarkable or eventful happened just then, it is just that Michael Roberts noticed something at that point in time which he considered to be rather remarkable and eventful.
What is really funny about this whole situation, aside from the fact that this is a blatantly obvious attempt at getting more words in to a novel that is remarkably light on substance to the point where one could refer to it as “substance-lite’, reads great, less filling!, is that this thing that is so remarkable and eventful that he is noticing is actually empty space.
How remarkable!
How eventful!
Rick was not at work.
How curious.
Rick had been drinking pretty heavily last night, and it was not just because of all of his toastings to Michael. Speaking of which, he cleaned up! But more about that in a minute. Back to Rick. Rick got very very drunk last night and was only able to get home by himself because he lives in the same apartment complex. And he was really drunk. Really drunk.
So Mike cleaned up. He won over a hundred last night. One hundred dollars! Him! Every hand, he won. Vegas thought he had him when he pulled out the straight flush to the eight, and rightfully so, but Mikey, man, he had a straight flush to the jack. Who does that? Answer: nobody. So one can understand why Michael is in a great mood this morning, and very much looking forward to treating everyone to a round tonight. The first time since they started this little game.
Hoping Rick was okay, he picked up the phone and gave him a ring.
No answer.
Rick was not answering his phone.
Hmm, wonder what he is doing right now….any guesses?
Thinking he was either sleeping off a very bad hangover or already on his way here, Mike began to focus on his work. When Fred showed up, which was a great shock to the entire world, as it was a Friday of all days, Mike said Rick was out on a call. Of course Fred was not there to work, he had just left the keys to his boat in his office. Why he actually had the keys in the office is anyone’s guess, as they were not attached to anything that one would expect to find in his office.
Lunch came around and there was still no sign of Rick. Michael would have liked to have driven over to see if he was alright but he was swamped with work, partially because it was so hot outside and also due to the fact that Rick was not here to work. In fact, he was so busy that he was totally surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was five thirty seven, way past time to be out of there. He got his things together and left work.
Alright, so what is everyone thinking right now? Something dark and sinister has started to come into Rick’s life, but what is it? And why doesn’t he remember it? And what will Michael do when he finds out? And is Mephistopheles one of those cute cats, or just kind of scary? All this, and more, will be revealed in next month’s issue of…wait, no. That’s not right at all. There aren’t any issues, really. Just…uh, you know…stuff. And…things.
Groovy.
It is just before six thirty in a really clean apartment. An alarm clock is about to go off. MEHH! MEHH! And there it goes! MEHH! MEHH! Oh wait, no. That is the wrong apartment. And the wrong time. It is just before seven in a really rather messy apartment. An alarm clock is about to go off. Click.
“Are you serious, Chuck?”
“Yes I am, Larry, yes I am! Today will be totally cloud free and a nice scorching ninety degrees today! No cool breeze for any of us!”
“Alright, and now to Gale to look at the traf…” The voice was abruptly silent. That is because a hand slammed on to the snooze button. But the owner of this hand, who really needs to trim his fingernails, did not go back to sleep, but got up, turned off the alarm, and yawned. Michael Roberts did his usual morning routine. He ate the same…
What? Yes, yesterday was supposed to be normal, but it was not. It was so amazingly not normal that…
Say again?
What?? Of course everything changed! Come on, it is not that hard to figure out what was so monumental about yesterday in Michael Roberts’ life.
Yes, Gloria, but she is only part of it. And not in the way one might think.
Uh huh, Rick’s little situation is definitely the beginnings of drama and angst.
Yes, it will all make sense later. And all will be revealed.
No, it will not be revealed now. It will be revealed later.
Can the story just continue? Shut up. The story needs to be told!
Okay, now that everyone is at least partially satisfied with the build up of drama in a thoroughly crappy way, on to the magnificent second day of the story. Or something. Yes, that phrase will be used continuously throughout this work, as it is the author’s intention to cause the reader to have some doubts about the validity of the voice acting as narrator and to make it seem like said voice does not know what it is doing, even though it clearly does. And he also thinks it is a funny word. Or rather, he thinks that something is a funny word. It is not as funny as something, though it does have its own peculiar characteristics that make it rather popular at cocktail parties.
Michael Roberts went to work with absolutely nothing remarkable or eventful happening.
Until he got to work.
Or rather, absolutely nothing remarkable or eventful happened until about fifteen minutes after he got to work.
Well, it was not so much that something remarkable or eventful happened just then, it is just that Michael Roberts noticed something at that point in time which he considered to be rather remarkable and eventful.
What is really funny about this whole situation, aside from the fact that this is a blatantly obvious attempt at getting more words in to a novel that is remarkably light on substance to the point where one could refer to it as “substance-lite’, reads great, less filling!, is that this thing that is so remarkable and eventful that he is noticing is actually empty space.
How remarkable!
How eventful!
Rick was not at work.
How curious.
Rick had been drinking pretty heavily last night, and it was not just because of all of his toastings to Michael. Speaking of which, he cleaned up! But more about that in a minute. Back to Rick. Rick got very very drunk last night and was only able to get home by himself because he lives in the same apartment complex. And he was really drunk. Really drunk.
So Mike cleaned up. He won over a hundred last night. One hundred dollars! Him! Every hand, he won. Vegas thought he had him when he pulled out the straight flush to the eight, and rightfully so, but Mikey, man, he had a straight flush to the jack. Who does that? Answer: nobody. So one can understand why Michael is in a great mood this morning, and very much looking forward to treating everyone to a round tonight. The first time since they started this little game.
Hoping Rick was okay, he picked up the phone and gave him a ring.
No answer.
Rick was not answering his phone.
Hmm, wonder what he is doing right now….any guesses?
Thinking he was either sleeping off a very bad hangover or already on his way here, Mike began to focus on his work. When Fred showed up, which was a great shock to the entire world, as it was a Friday of all days, Mike said Rick was out on a call. Of course Fred was not there to work, he had just left the keys to his boat in his office. Why he actually had the keys in the office is anyone’s guess, as they were not attached to anything that one would expect to find in his office.
Lunch came around and there was still no sign of Rick. Michael would have liked to have driven over to see if he was alright but he was swamped with work, partially because it was so hot outside and also due to the fact that Rick was not here to work. In fact, he was so busy that he was totally surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was five thirty seven, way past time to be out of there. He got his things together and left work.
www.colorquiz.com
Your Existing Situation
Non-realization of hopes and the inability to decide on necessary remedial action has resulted in considerable stress.
Your Stress Sources
Feels unappreciated and finds the existing situation disagreeable. Wants personal recognition and the esteem of others to compensate for the lack of like-minded people with whom to ally himself and make himself more secure. His sensual self-restraint makes it difficult for him to give himself, but the resulting isolation leads to the urge to surrender and merge with another. This disturbs him as he regards such instincts as weaknesses to be overcome; only by not succumbing to them, he feels, can he withstand the difficulties of the situation. Wants to be valued as a desirable associate and admired for his personal qualities.
Your Restrained Characteristics
Believes that he is not receiving his share--that he is neither properly understood or adequately appreciated. Feels that he is being compelled to conform, and close relationships leave him without any sense of emotional involvement.
Insists that his hopes and ideas are realistic, but needs reassurance and encouragement. Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense.
Your Desired Objective
Considers the existing circumstances disagreeable and over-demanding. Refuses to allow anything to influence his point of view.
Your Actual Problem
The need for esteem--for the chance to play some outstanding part and make a name for himself--has become imperative. He reacts by insisting on being the center of attention, and refuses to play an impersonal or minor role.
Your Actual Problem #2
Depleted vitality has created an intolerance for any further stimulation, or demands on his resources. This feeling of powerlessness subjects him to agitation and acute distress. He reacts by considering that he has been victimized, and insists--with indignation, resentment, and defiance--on being given his own way.
Wow. That is unreal.
On a side note, Insomnia rules!
Your Existing Situation
Non-realization of hopes and the inability to decide on necessary remedial action has resulted in considerable stress.
Your Stress Sources
Feels unappreciated and finds the existing situation disagreeable. Wants personal recognition and the esteem of others to compensate for the lack of like-minded people with whom to ally himself and make himself more secure. His sensual self-restraint makes it difficult for him to give himself, but the resulting isolation leads to the urge to surrender and merge with another. This disturbs him as he regards such instincts as weaknesses to be overcome; only by not succumbing to them, he feels, can he withstand the difficulties of the situation. Wants to be valued as a desirable associate and admired for his personal qualities.
Your Restrained Characteristics
Believes that he is not receiving his share--that he is neither properly understood or adequately appreciated. Feels that he is being compelled to conform, and close relationships leave him without any sense of emotional involvement.
Insists that his hopes and ideas are realistic, but needs reassurance and encouragement. Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense.
Your Desired Objective
Considers the existing circumstances disagreeable and over-demanding. Refuses to allow anything to influence his point of view.
Your Actual Problem
The need for esteem--for the chance to play some outstanding part and make a name for himself--has become imperative. He reacts by insisting on being the center of attention, and refuses to play an impersonal or minor role.
Your Actual Problem #2
Depleted vitality has created an intolerance for any further stimulation, or demands on his resources. This feeling of powerlessness subjects him to agitation and acute distress. He reacts by considering that he has been victimized, and insists--with indignation, resentment, and defiance--on being given his own way.
Wow. That is unreal.
On a side note, Insomnia rules!
Thursday, November 13, 2003
Okay, so I am about 15000 words behind. Time to write. New home for the novel is here.
Friday, November 07, 2003
At the end of day six, I am at a total of 6488. So I am slightly under two days behind, but still doing well. This part finishes out day one of this writing debacle, and it really shows how horribly I write dialogue, especially between more than two characters at once. Ugh, man.
Fade in, Michael Roberts’ apartment. What a mess. He is not exactly the cleanest of house keepers. In fact, he is probably pretty close to the slovenly end of the scale. But hey, it is home. Or something.
He lives in a small apartment by himself. It has a kitchen that is absolutely disgusting. It is impossible to tell what color the cabinets and counters originally were. Ugh. He also has a living room that is surprisingly clean, compared to the rest of the place. He has an ugly striped couch that must have come from a thrift store, as it is older than he is, probably from the really early seventies. A television rests on a small bookcase that contains an old Atari 2600. Not books, as he really does not read all that much outside of magazines and the newspaper. The biggest thing in the living room though is the table. It is a large table with six sides, what is that called, sextagonal? with only five chairs that is, with the exception of the very occasional meal, exclusively used for the nightly poker game. Which is about to take place, but the rest of the apartment is waiting very eagerly to be described in fabulous enriching detail. Right. So the bedroom has been declared an official federal disaster area. It is just a total mess. Clothes are everywhere, the bed has not been made ever, and Michael probably would not know the color of the carpet in there if the living room did not have the exact same type. Its mess can not even begin to be described. Just a disaster. And the bathroom is getting totally passed by because of how horrible it is, and nothing else will be said about the matter. Moving on to the poker game. Oh, he also has a rarely used washer and dryer in a closet somewhere. Now, moving on to the poker game.
Michael and four of his buddies play poker every Thursday night. The buy in is twenty dollars, with dollar antes. Frequently someone will run out and then will buy in more, much to the delight of the other players. Frequently this is Michael, much to the delight of the other players. It is not that he is a bad poker player, because he really is half way decent. It is just that he never ever gets anything good, and on the incredibly rare occasion that he does get something good someone always has something better. There is just no luck for this guy. They play a variety of games, from Texas Hold ‘Em to Seven Card Stud.
Rick Harding is present, of course. He usually ends up breaking even, so he just comes for the fun and hanging out and drinking that occurs. The others are Steve Miller, no relation to the band, Jeremy Anderson, and Paul Hicks. Steve Miller fancies himself the ultimate poker player. He watches the World Championship of Poker on ESPN every year, and owns several poker books. He even watches all of the poker movies, like “Maverick” and “Rounders” and uses everything he hears in them at the table. He always talks about going to Las Vegas one day, but no one every seriously believes him. It would probably end up very badly for him, as he has an extremely bad gambling problem but is unable to admit it. Though he does win most of the time. He works at the bookstore, not because he really likes to read but so he can get the discount on all the poker books. Jeremy Anderson is a complete and total asshole. He was like that in high school, being one of the “popular crowd” and getting a lot of chicks that mostly ended up being too young or naïve to realize what they were getting into. The other guys only tolerated him because they had grown up with him, and because when he got drunk, which he frequently did, he became very, very bad at poker. He’s a manager at an office in the next town over, and uses his job to score with all the interns. Paul is pretty much the one in the group that gets constantly picked on and ragged on by everyone else. He thinks the guys are his friends, which they are in a sense, but they really only keep him around so as to have someone to pick on. He is self employed in some sort of internet business that no one actually knows what it does. These are Michael Roberts’ closest friends, as they are. Or something.
Each man sits at his own usual seat, ready to play. The chips are out, the beer is already flowing, and the first hand is being dealt. Steve starts out the dealing, playing five card draw as the first hand of the night.
“Okay fellas, cards are out, place your bets.”
“Shut up, Steve. I bet a dollar.”
“Big Rick bets a dollar, what about you, Jer?”
“Shut up, Steve. I see your dollar Ricky, and raise you another dollar.”
“Oooo, high stakes played by the master.”
“Seriously dude, quit the commentary. Now. I am not in the mood for it tonight. Are you going to fold or not Paul, come on?” Rick asked him, who was already halfway to folding, but taking his time about it.
“Rough day, Rick? I had a great day. New intern came in today. Hot little number, with nice legs. She does not know it yet, but we are going to start having daily meetings in my office next week to discuss her qualifications.” No need to say who said that, of course.
“You are such a dick. Nothing was particularly bad about today, but it just sucked ass for some reason.” Shaking his head, he added, “we really should fix that stupid air conditioning, Mike.”
“I fold.”
“About time, what are you going to do Mikey, fold fold fold as usual?”
Mike looked at his hand. He had a pair of twos, an ace and two throw aways. “What the hell, I had a good day, and I am feeling lucky. Or maybe just generous. Call.”
“Dealer calls.”
“I call. Why the hell did you have a good day Mike? Your day was just as boring and hot as mine. What did you do at that place in Maple Ridge?”
“Haha, Mikey got some from an old wrinkly chick! Yeah! Way to go!” Jeremy hooted from his seat.
“Man that is some nasty shit Mike. Why would you want some of that? Come on Rick, how many cards you want, it is not that hard.”
“I will take three, and stop being impatient, it is a delicate matter.”
“I did not bang anyone, least of all some ‘old wrinkly chick’. Ugh man, that is nasty.”
“Uh huh. Suuuuurrrrre. Big Poppa J will have one card, thank you very much.”
“So why are you feeling lucky? You know you do not have anything even remotely resembling luck. Not like Vegas here,” Rick pointed out as Mike threw in his two junk cards.
“It is not luck baby. It is all skill! Dealer will take two.”
“So was there a girl Michael?” enquired Paul, feeling excluded since he folded.
“Two dollars,” Rick bet, at the same time Michael responded with a “yeah, you could say that.”
“Ho ho ho ho! The truth comes out! In honor of Mikey’s butt ugly wrinkled lover, I raise to five!”
“Pfffft. Whatever man, you should have seen her.” Michael looked down at his cards, and was fortunate that the others were speculating as to how many chins she had, because he had drawn another pair of twos and his face showed it. Four twos. He never got anything this good. “In honor of the extremely unbelievably amazingly hot female I met today I will raise you, Jeremy, by another two.”
“Well well well. Not only does Mikey have a hot chick, it also seems she gave him the cards he never has. More likely she gave him the balls to try bluffing. I will raise your ass to ten!”
“Damn Mike, I should have taken that call. Me and my monster hand will call.” It should be noted that Rick has been speaking a lot more than he normally does. That is because he is well on his way to approaching drunk, as he did have a bad day. Though what he does not realize is that he does have a very good reason for this (aside from his missing out on the call from Gloria), it is just that he does not remember it.
“None of you have anything. Raise another dollar. So what is her name big boy?”
“Her name is Gloria, and none of you have anything, so I raise to thirteen.”
“I am so glad I got out of this pot early. Jesus, you guys are crazy.”
“Gloria, eh? That is a bit of a presumptuous name, don’t you think? I still say I have it, so I raise another two. Fifteen baby, fifteen.”
“Damn. Nice pot you guys are giving me, I will call.”
“Yeah, I want to leave enough money for you guys to lose to me later on tonight. We do not want to end the night early, eh? Yeah, Gloria sounds like an ultra Christian name, so she is probably a big prude. Though I did know this one girl who seemed really innocent, but she had a tongue that could…”
“Oh speaking of names, do any of you know anything about Elizabethan plays? Something having to do with a muffy full of stuff, or something?” Mike knew that he definitely had this pot, but he did not want to push it. Besides, the night was still young, as far as Thursday night poker games go. So he called.
“Muffy? No idea, man. You know how good I was in English. It is not like I turned down a position as Poet Laureate to be an air conditioning repair man. What do you have Vegas? Anything?”
“Vegas has aces and kings. Hell yeah. And I have no idea what you are talking about, man. Did she try and invite you to the old folk’s production of Hamlet or something?”
“Sucks for you Steve. Trip bitches beat the two pair. Awwww, yeah!” Steve swore.
“Man, you guys both fail to my glorious straight to the ten! Send those chips my way, as we know Mike never has shit.” “God dammit this day sucks even more!” Rick added as he went in search of more beer. “Speaking of shit, I banged a girl who was in to plays and shit,” Jeremy thoughtfully added. “Can you elaborate on this girl’s muff?”
“Her cat was named muffy something. Or maybe it was meffy? Oh, and don’t you want to at least see what I have before you take your chips?”
“Meffy? No idea man. And what could your pair possibly turn into, anyway?”
“Do you mean Mephistopheles?” interjected Paul.
“That is it! Damn, Paul. How do you know that shit?” Mike exclaimed, dully impressed, as was the rest of the table.
“I actually paid attention in school. Mephistopheles was the devil that Doctor Faustus dealt with in Marlowe’s ‘Doctor Faustus’. And I want to see Mike’s cards.”
“Well that helps out a lot! Thanks Paul. Oh, and Jeremy?”
“Yeah?” Jeremy did not like the sound of Mike’s voice.
“Thank you for stacking my chips so nicely for me.” He laid down his hand.
The table was totally silent. For about two seconds.
“Hey hey, Mike! Yeah! A chick and the best hand you ever got!” Rick cheered.
“There is easily over sixty in there,” said Steve wonderingly. Man, these adverbs are getting out of control. But hey, writing dialogue and responses and crap is hard.
“Four twos??? I got beat by four fucking twos??? I got beat by Mike?? And his four douches!” Jeremy said as Paul replied to Steve with a count of “Seventy Three,” not that anyone was listening. Nor were they listening when he repeated his comment of “I am so glad I got out of this pot early.”
Michael Roberts was basking in his friends’ praise. Maybe his luck really was turning around. And he could not wait until they saw Gloria. Day-um!
Rick Harding stumbled home. The poker game was just a hazy drunken memory. He fumbled for his keys and tried to fit them in the door extremely unsuccessfully. After about five or six minutes he was able to unlock his door, shamble in and collapse on his bed. He tossed and turned the whole night as he was chased in his dreams by horrors unimaginable by any mortal. He awoke for one brief moment of lucidity to whisper, “my God, why have you forsaken me?” The moment passed, and the only sounds that followed were those of a broken tortured shell of a man.
Fade in, Michael Roberts’ apartment. What a mess. He is not exactly the cleanest of house keepers. In fact, he is probably pretty close to the slovenly end of the scale. But hey, it is home. Or something.
He lives in a small apartment by himself. It has a kitchen that is absolutely disgusting. It is impossible to tell what color the cabinets and counters originally were. Ugh. He also has a living room that is surprisingly clean, compared to the rest of the place. He has an ugly striped couch that must have come from a thrift store, as it is older than he is, probably from the really early seventies. A television rests on a small bookcase that contains an old Atari 2600. Not books, as he really does not read all that much outside of magazines and the newspaper. The biggest thing in the living room though is the table. It is a large table with six sides, what is that called, sextagonal? with only five chairs that is, with the exception of the very occasional meal, exclusively used for the nightly poker game. Which is about to take place, but the rest of the apartment is waiting very eagerly to be described in fabulous enriching detail. Right. So the bedroom has been declared an official federal disaster area. It is just a total mess. Clothes are everywhere, the bed has not been made ever, and Michael probably would not know the color of the carpet in there if the living room did not have the exact same type. Its mess can not even begin to be described. Just a disaster. And the bathroom is getting totally passed by because of how horrible it is, and nothing else will be said about the matter. Moving on to the poker game. Oh, he also has a rarely used washer and dryer in a closet somewhere. Now, moving on to the poker game.
Michael and four of his buddies play poker every Thursday night. The buy in is twenty dollars, with dollar antes. Frequently someone will run out and then will buy in more, much to the delight of the other players. Frequently this is Michael, much to the delight of the other players. It is not that he is a bad poker player, because he really is half way decent. It is just that he never ever gets anything good, and on the incredibly rare occasion that he does get something good someone always has something better. There is just no luck for this guy. They play a variety of games, from Texas Hold ‘Em to Seven Card Stud.
Rick Harding is present, of course. He usually ends up breaking even, so he just comes for the fun and hanging out and drinking that occurs. The others are Steve Miller, no relation to the band, Jeremy Anderson, and Paul Hicks. Steve Miller fancies himself the ultimate poker player. He watches the World Championship of Poker on ESPN every year, and owns several poker books. He even watches all of the poker movies, like “Maverick” and “Rounders” and uses everything he hears in them at the table. He always talks about going to Las Vegas one day, but no one every seriously believes him. It would probably end up very badly for him, as he has an extremely bad gambling problem but is unable to admit it. Though he does win most of the time. He works at the bookstore, not because he really likes to read but so he can get the discount on all the poker books. Jeremy Anderson is a complete and total asshole. He was like that in high school, being one of the “popular crowd” and getting a lot of chicks that mostly ended up being too young or naïve to realize what they were getting into. The other guys only tolerated him because they had grown up with him, and because when he got drunk, which he frequently did, he became very, very bad at poker. He’s a manager at an office in the next town over, and uses his job to score with all the interns. Paul is pretty much the one in the group that gets constantly picked on and ragged on by everyone else. He thinks the guys are his friends, which they are in a sense, but they really only keep him around so as to have someone to pick on. He is self employed in some sort of internet business that no one actually knows what it does. These are Michael Roberts’ closest friends, as they are. Or something.
Each man sits at his own usual seat, ready to play. The chips are out, the beer is already flowing, and the first hand is being dealt. Steve starts out the dealing, playing five card draw as the first hand of the night.
“Okay fellas, cards are out, place your bets.”
“Shut up, Steve. I bet a dollar.”
“Big Rick bets a dollar, what about you, Jer?”
“Shut up, Steve. I see your dollar Ricky, and raise you another dollar.”
“Oooo, high stakes played by the master.”
“Seriously dude, quit the commentary. Now. I am not in the mood for it tonight. Are you going to fold or not Paul, come on?” Rick asked him, who was already halfway to folding, but taking his time about it.
“Rough day, Rick? I had a great day. New intern came in today. Hot little number, with nice legs. She does not know it yet, but we are going to start having daily meetings in my office next week to discuss her qualifications.” No need to say who said that, of course.
“You are such a dick. Nothing was particularly bad about today, but it just sucked ass for some reason.” Shaking his head, he added, “we really should fix that stupid air conditioning, Mike.”
“I fold.”
“About time, what are you going to do Mikey, fold fold fold as usual?”
Mike looked at his hand. He had a pair of twos, an ace and two throw aways. “What the hell, I had a good day, and I am feeling lucky. Or maybe just generous. Call.”
“Dealer calls.”
“I call. Why the hell did you have a good day Mike? Your day was just as boring and hot as mine. What did you do at that place in Maple Ridge?”
“Haha, Mikey got some from an old wrinkly chick! Yeah! Way to go!” Jeremy hooted from his seat.
“Man that is some nasty shit Mike. Why would you want some of that? Come on Rick, how many cards you want, it is not that hard.”
“I will take three, and stop being impatient, it is a delicate matter.”
“I did not bang anyone, least of all some ‘old wrinkly chick’. Ugh man, that is nasty.”
“Uh huh. Suuuuurrrrre. Big Poppa J will have one card, thank you very much.”
“So why are you feeling lucky? You know you do not have anything even remotely resembling luck. Not like Vegas here,” Rick pointed out as Mike threw in his two junk cards.
“It is not luck baby. It is all skill! Dealer will take two.”
“So was there a girl Michael?” enquired Paul, feeling excluded since he folded.
“Two dollars,” Rick bet, at the same time Michael responded with a “yeah, you could say that.”
“Ho ho ho ho! The truth comes out! In honor of Mikey’s butt ugly wrinkled lover, I raise to five!”
“Pfffft. Whatever man, you should have seen her.” Michael looked down at his cards, and was fortunate that the others were speculating as to how many chins she had, because he had drawn another pair of twos and his face showed it. Four twos. He never got anything this good. “In honor of the extremely unbelievably amazingly hot female I met today I will raise you, Jeremy, by another two.”
“Well well well. Not only does Mikey have a hot chick, it also seems she gave him the cards he never has. More likely she gave him the balls to try bluffing. I will raise your ass to ten!”
“Damn Mike, I should have taken that call. Me and my monster hand will call.” It should be noted that Rick has been speaking a lot more than he normally does. That is because he is well on his way to approaching drunk, as he did have a bad day. Though what he does not realize is that he does have a very good reason for this (aside from his missing out on the call from Gloria), it is just that he does not remember it.
“None of you have anything. Raise another dollar. So what is her name big boy?”
“Her name is Gloria, and none of you have anything, so I raise to thirteen.”
“I am so glad I got out of this pot early. Jesus, you guys are crazy.”
“Gloria, eh? That is a bit of a presumptuous name, don’t you think? I still say I have it, so I raise another two. Fifteen baby, fifteen.”
“Damn. Nice pot you guys are giving me, I will call.”
“Yeah, I want to leave enough money for you guys to lose to me later on tonight. We do not want to end the night early, eh? Yeah, Gloria sounds like an ultra Christian name, so she is probably a big prude. Though I did know this one girl who seemed really innocent, but she had a tongue that could…”
“Oh speaking of names, do any of you know anything about Elizabethan plays? Something having to do with a muffy full of stuff, or something?” Mike knew that he definitely had this pot, but he did not want to push it. Besides, the night was still young, as far as Thursday night poker games go. So he called.
“Muffy? No idea, man. You know how good I was in English. It is not like I turned down a position as Poet Laureate to be an air conditioning repair man. What do you have Vegas? Anything?”
“Vegas has aces and kings. Hell yeah. And I have no idea what you are talking about, man. Did she try and invite you to the old folk’s production of Hamlet or something?”
“Sucks for you Steve. Trip bitches beat the two pair. Awwww, yeah!” Steve swore.
“Man, you guys both fail to my glorious straight to the ten! Send those chips my way, as we know Mike never has shit.” “God dammit this day sucks even more!” Rick added as he went in search of more beer. “Speaking of shit, I banged a girl who was in to plays and shit,” Jeremy thoughtfully added. “Can you elaborate on this girl’s muff?”
“Her cat was named muffy something. Or maybe it was meffy? Oh, and don’t you want to at least see what I have before you take your chips?”
“Meffy? No idea man. And what could your pair possibly turn into, anyway?”
“Do you mean Mephistopheles?” interjected Paul.
“That is it! Damn, Paul. How do you know that shit?” Mike exclaimed, dully impressed, as was the rest of the table.
“I actually paid attention in school. Mephistopheles was the devil that Doctor Faustus dealt with in Marlowe’s ‘Doctor Faustus’. And I want to see Mike’s cards.”
“Well that helps out a lot! Thanks Paul. Oh, and Jeremy?”
“Yeah?” Jeremy did not like the sound of Mike’s voice.
“Thank you for stacking my chips so nicely for me.” He laid down his hand.
The table was totally silent. For about two seconds.
“Hey hey, Mike! Yeah! A chick and the best hand you ever got!” Rick cheered.
“There is easily over sixty in there,” said Steve wonderingly. Man, these adverbs are getting out of control. But hey, writing dialogue and responses and crap is hard.
“Four twos??? I got beat by four fucking twos??? I got beat by Mike?? And his four douches!” Jeremy said as Paul replied to Steve with a count of “Seventy Three,” not that anyone was listening. Nor were they listening when he repeated his comment of “I am so glad I got out of this pot early.”
Michael Roberts was basking in his friends’ praise. Maybe his luck really was turning around. And he could not wait until they saw Gloria. Day-um!
Rick Harding stumbled home. The poker game was just a hazy drunken memory. He fumbled for his keys and tried to fit them in the door extremely unsuccessfully. After about five or six minutes he was able to unlock his door, shamble in and collapse on his bed. He tossed and turned the whole night as he was chased in his dreams by horrors unimaginable by any mortal. He awoke for one brief moment of lucidity to whisper, “my God, why have you forsaken me?” The moment passed, and the only sounds that followed were those of a broken tortured shell of a man.
Thursday, November 06, 2003
Joan Kroc gives $200 million to NPR. Hell yeah.
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
This is the scariest thing I have ever read. My God, if they are right, we are no longer living in a Democracy.
The Federal Judge from Nebraska blocked the ban on partial birth abortions. What's really interesting is that the ban is applicable to pregnanices as early as fourteen weeks. Fourteen.
As far as the NNWM goes, the Total™ is now 4322. Didn't do too much today yet. Last night was really productive, putting me to 3600. Should be at 8000 by the end of tonight if I am totally on schedule.
Michael Roberts woke up on a Thursday morning expecting it to be like every other Thursday morning he would experienced in quite some time, which was not in itself a bad expectation. Things had not changed the last six years in his life, so why should they change today, right? He had the same cereal he always did, in the same bowl, with the same amount of milk. He took the same seven and a half minute shower he always took, and spent the same five minutes shaving that he always did (he hated shaving though, as it is one of the worst tortures man inflicts upon himself). He had the same cup of coffee he always had, while reading the same sections in the same paper. Michael Roberts’ life was the picture of constancy, never ever changing. He spent the same fifteen minutes driving to work, stopping at the same stop signs and red lights, and, okay, it is highly likely that the point of this paragraph ahs been made. Michael Roberts is having a normal day, expecting it to be normal, but completely unaware of something drastic and life changing that was going to occur. Got it? Good.
Fast forward to a few hours after lunch.
The phone rang on his desk, with a ring that was perfectly normal and not at all foreboding or forecasting any sort of doom, and …
Hey! OW!
Alright, alright, alright.
Enough with the normalcy and suspenseful build up.
Sheesh.
Why is everyone so damn pushy.
OW!
ALRIGHT, moving on, so the damn phone rang and Michael answered it.
“R&B Air and Heat, this is Michael.”
R&B Air and Heat, of course, is Michael’s employer. Big surprise there, right?
“What sort of sound is it making?”
A fly flew lazily into the room, and began to buzz around the phone.
“Oh yeah, that is typical. You have had the unit about a couple years now, yeah?”
The fly landed on the desk, when all of a sudden….
…
Ha, it seems everyone is hanging in complete suspense and mystery about what is about to happen which no doubt will be extraordinarily dramatic and shocking, so those who are light hearted should leave. Now.
It is amazing how empowering it is to sit here and have total control of the story. Bwa ha ha ha!!
“Oh? Where do you live?”
Okay, so the fly narrowly avoided being smashed by the palm of a human hand and flew back out the window, as no one was possibly able to guess.
“Yeah, that model tends to do that after a year or two. Not very reliable. There are much better units out there. You had the bad luck to get a place with the bad one”
And odd thing to note about R&B Air and Heat is that during the summer, as it is now, the window is inevitably open. That is because, ironically enough, R&B Air and Heat’s air condition is broken, and has been broken for, oh, about three years now. Strange, huh?
“Alright ma’am, I will be there in about twenty minutes.”
Michael Roberts hung up the phone in a way that was totally contradictory to the very dramatic nature of the phone call that just ended.
“Hey, Rick, I’m headed over to Maple Ridge to do some work on one of the five-nines that are always falling apart.”
Rick Harding is one of the other four people who work at R&B Air and Heat besides Michael Roberts. No more than two people are ever there at any given time. Michael and Rick are there on the weekdays during the normal working hours, while two other guys, Brian and Ed, work only on the weekends. The manager, Fred, rarely actually comes in to work and does not really do much. Incidently, R and B do not actually stand for anything. One would think that R and B stand for the last names of the guys who started the business, but that would make sense, and nobody in his right mind would want that. Rumor has it that the original owner was a big fan of that particular genre of music. R&B Air and Heat are able to get by with so few employees for a number of reasons. Actually, there is only one reason and that is because there is not that much demand for air condition and heating unit technicians. And there are several reasons for that. The first is that the town is small. The second is that the guys at R&B Air and Heat are just so good at what they do, despite the fact that they still have not fixed their own air condition unit, which is really kind of distressing. Okay, so there are really only two reasons, not several. R&B Air and Heat is the only air conditioning and heating unit place in the entire town. There used to be another place, but they really sucked. They were the ones that installed the five-nines which were talked about so much everywhere that always fall apart every five years. Which gives guys like Michael Roberts seemingly lots of work, but only enough to keep him somewhat busy during the day. Anyway, Rick Harding is a buddy of Mike’s from high school who also got a job fixing left over five-nines. He is pretty cool.
“Yeah,” replied Rick. He does not talk all that much.
“I will see you tonight.” By tonight, Michael Roberts meant poker, at his place. Poker is a traditional Thursday night experience for him and his friends, followed by the traditional going to the bar and the winner buying everyone a round the next night, where someone inevitably makes an ass out of himself, usually in the presence of a female who is not looking for a good time, the prude, or at least the rebuffed ass will claim.
“Mmm hmm.” See? Two syllables. Two lousy syllables. Hardly ever talks.
Michael Roberts grabbed his hat and his keys, and left R&B Air and Heat for what would be the last time in his life.
Ha ha, just kidding, he will be back to work in the morning.
Maybe.
Mysterious!!
About twenty minutes later, Michael Roberts’ faded Chevy pulled up to the address in Maple Ridge. Maple Ridge is an apartment complex owned by an elderly couple that are really nice and offer really low rent for some decent places, but generally only to other old folks. The only problem is that they were friends with the morons who installed the less than fantastic air units, and as such were entirely unwilling to replace them for anything else, because that would be “dishonoring their memory,” which is completely idiotic given that no one actually died, they just went out of business since they offered really crappy service and moved away. Hurray for run on sentences!
By this time the protagonist (shame on you if you do not know who that is by now you fool) of the story was knocking on the door of number 205 E.
The door opened.
“Hello ma’am, I’m here from R&B Air and Heat. May I come in?” Michael repeated the mantra he said every day several times a day with perfection. In the back of his head he was congratulating himself on saying it right, (for some reason he used to have a really hard time saying that and would not often switch words around and hilarity would ensure) so he did not really notice the person answering the door.
“Oh yes, do come in, wo not you?”
Her voice brought him out of the back of his mind, and it was fortunate that he was not saying his little spiel just then because he would have completely and utterly messed it up.
The voice was light, with a hint of relief and exasperation, the kind of sound someone who had no air conditioning in the middle of summer would make when the air conditioning repairman had just arrived.
The owner of the voice was beautiful. Very beautiful.
She was what would be referred to in some circles as drop dead gorgeous. She was a little bit less than five and a half feet tall, with the body of a young woman in her mid to late twenties, a medium build, dark, dark, dark hair (very dark), dark, dark, dark eyes(also very dark) that just gave a knowing look that said “I am sexy”, and skin the color of copper, or bronze, or some other sort of metal that was what very tanned skin would look like. It also probably did not hurt his initial impression of her that she was wearing very short and very tight shorts, black with elastic tie in the front, and an equally tight and rather low cut tank top, also black. And she shone with the perspiration that can only be compared to the look of an extraordinarily beautiful woman who has been living without air conditioning in the middle of the summer and sweating oh so lightly from it.
By the time Michael got past the initial appearance of his customer, he realized that she had said something else, and by the look on her face, which was slightly amused and very, very slightly irritated, the kind of irritated look someone who had no air conditioning in the middle of summer would get when the air conditioning repairman had just arrived and then stood on the front doorstep staring and not coming in despite two inviting offers to come inside, it had been another inviting offer to come inside. He had heard the first one, he was just been blown away by the sound of her voice, which was quite beautiful also, sounding like she was singing and singing only to him, blown away so much that he had failed to hear anything else. The phone really failed to convey this even remotely.
“Yes ma’am, can, uh, you just show me to where the, uh, unit is, please?”
“Right this way,” she replied with a light little laugh and a smile as she led the way to the, uh, unit.
Michael scowled at his own stupidity while she showed him in, which is a good thing, because he was so engrossed in insulting himself that he missed her smile. If he had seen that he would have been equally blown away by the smile, as it was easily as dazzling as the rest of the woman was. After he was done scowling he did take the liberty of checking her out from behind, and if there had been anyone else looking at his face as he did, which there was, but at this point this is arguable, but if one really knew what was really going on with everything one would not argue at all and just agree, as there was someone. Anyway, uh, hmmm, yes, if there had been anyone else looking at his face as he did check her out then it would have been quite apparent to that anyone else from Michael’s face that he was clearly thinking something so profound that it can best be summed up with exactly what Michael was thinking, which was just one profound word, the incredibly profound word of “damn.” Get used to run on sentences, because they are funny. In other words, the view from the back was equally as thrilling and equally as enjoyable as the front was, and Michael was both thrilled and enjoying himself.
“Here we are, the bloody thing.” (No she was not British, or at least she did not speak in a british accent, she might have been British for all anyone knows at this point, but for the sake of argument it will just be said that she is not British for the time being.) Moving a cardboard box filled with plates and utensils, she revealed the elusive and troublesome bloody unit.
Michael just noticed the cardboard box, and looking around he noticed a lot more of them. He had not noticed them before because he was, understandably enough, rather quite enjoying the view. It definitely appeared that the woman had recently moved in, and he said as much.
“Yeah, moving was a bitch, but what can you do, you know? I did not really have a choice.”
“You are lucky that you were able to get in these. Was the move job related?” he responded, while bending over the unit, examining it, poking it here and there.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Must have been great moving in to find out this was not working.” He dug in his bag of tools.
“Yeah, it was annoying, but the heat is not that bad. Besides, I rather like the warmth.”
“Yeah it is not really an issue once you get used to it. Take me, I have lived here my whole life, and I like it here well enough. I barely even notice it any more, really.” Selecting a screw driver, he began to open up the case.
“Oh really? Myself, I have been everywhere. Sometimes it feels like I am only in a place long enough to get prepared to leave for the next one.”
“Traveling all the time, eh? You must see a lot of interesting places, meet a lot of interesting people, all that sort of thing.” His hands began looking for the one piece that was always broken.
“Yeah, I guess. It gets dull after a while. Every place, every face, they all blur together. But this place, well! I do not even know where to start!”
“You have got to be kidding me,” he looked up at her incredulously and noticed that she was leaning over, looking at what he was doing with actual interest, not just feigned politeness. He also noticed that she had a nice rack, as his mind was putting it at the moment. Not too big, and not too small. Just the way he liked it “Nothing here ever changes or is interesting. You’re probably the most interesting thing to happen to this place in the last fifty years.” He turned reluctantly back to his work as his fingers found what he was looking for.
“Oh, no! I love it here already. And what happened fifty years ago that could be more interesting than me?”
“Ha! Oh nothing as special as you, just an arbitrary number. Maybe I should say at all instead of the last fifty.” If he had been looking at her he would have noticed that she was glaring at something he otherwise would not have noticed. But he was not, and he did not. “Got it.” With a snap he pulled out an extremely sorry looking piece of metal that looked like it had been used as a shark’s chew toy.
“Am I really that remarkable? Oh, is that the problem?”
“Yes.” Turning around he offered up the offending piece, which she took. “You see, the connection on this is really poor and it gaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” He was about to say it gets extremely hot extremely fast and breaks even faster, but this was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a rather black and rather stealthy cat in his lap with extremely sharp claws that had also arrived in his lap. This is, of course, the recipient of the afore mentioned glare, not that it cared at all, as cats do not really care what anyone thinks of them.
“Mephy! Do not attack the nice repair man!”
“It, um, has rather sharp, um, claws. Uh, would you mind if, uh, ow?”
“Mephy, release, now. Do not give me that look. I do not care if you have not eaten lunch yet. Neither have I. You eat when I eat and you know it. Release.”
The cat gave a quick shake of its head, looked at Michael in a way that quite clearly said “I own you,” and hopped off, much to the extreme joy of the owner of the lap in which he had previously been seated.
“That is a nice, um, cat, you have there. Uh, she? is quite the cat. Muffy?”
“Thanks. Sorry about that. His name is short for Mephistopheles.” After noticing his look she added that she rather enjoyed Renaissance era English plays, particularly tragedies. “He certainly fits the part, does not he?”
“Most definitely.” Not that he had any idea what she was talking about. He made a mental note to ask the guys tonight what they knew about English literature, as he found it all rather boring. Not that they would likely know either, but they were sources of surprising information sometimes, particularly in things that chicks might talk about. Like plays.
“So are you going to replace that part or just fix it?”
“Oh, replace it, definitely. This brand melts at the end really quickly. This one will work much better,” digging in his bag and finding the replacement part as he spoke.
“Sweet. What did this thing do anyway?” she asked while turning over the metal tube.
“It connects two other sections and blocks the heat from them and keeps it towards the back. That way when the air is on you will get cold air instead of hot. Plus the other parts will not overheat and explode on you.” He sounded like he really enjoyed explaining all of this, as do most people who really enjoy their particular job sound when explaining things about their job.
“Ah, so since it melted on this side, then…”
“Then the cold air was merely mixing in with all of the heat instead of going out. So you got a lot of noise and no results. There we go.”
“That is it? It is all completed and fixed and everything?”
“Yeah, you should be fine for another seven or eight years, and by that time you will need a new unit anyway.” Getting up, he put the cover back on and put his tools away.
“Wow, that worked out really well, and fast. Thank you so much! How much do I owe you, ummm, Michael?” she replied, looking down at his shirt for his name.
“It was no problem ma’am, my pleasure. Here is the bill ma’am,” handing her the bill, or at least something that was doing a very good job of pretending it was a bill if it was not in fact the real bill itself.
“Call me Gloria, please. I can not stand all of this ma’am business. It makes me feel like an old woman! Cash is fine, yes?” She dug in one of the many boxes for some money.
“Alright, Gloria. And yes, cash is fine. I will need to go to my truck for change though.”
“No you do not. Keep the change,” she replied, handing him a folded up bill that was of a denomination which was much higher than what he was expecting.
With a look of surprise, he took the bill. “Thank you very much!” He took a moment to search through his bag. “If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to call us, or me, again.” He handed her the result of his search.
Taking his business card, which just so happened to also have his home phone number in case of any emergency evening or night calls or at least that is what he would say the reason was, she thanked him again. “I will definitely call you if I need anything.”
“See you around.”
“Mmm hmmm.” She shut the door.
As Michael walked out of the building and got into his truck, he thought his luck might be changing. Gloria was certainly the hottest woman he had ever met, and she was really nice too. Down to earth. Yes, things just might be looking up. Humming a bit of tune that he could not quite place and did not really know why he was humming it in the first place, which was actually Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady” and certainly would make sense to Michael if he actually bothered to try and figure out what the song he was humming was, he drove back to work to finish up before heading home.
Gloria watched Michael drive away, and then smiled.
“Do not look at me that way, Mephistopheles.”
Mephistopheles huffed and left the room.
As far as the NNWM goes, the Total™ is now 4322. Didn't do too much today yet. Last night was really productive, putting me to 3600. Should be at 8000 by the end of tonight if I am totally on schedule.
Michael Roberts woke up on a Thursday morning expecting it to be like every other Thursday morning he would experienced in quite some time, which was not in itself a bad expectation. Things had not changed the last six years in his life, so why should they change today, right? He had the same cereal he always did, in the same bowl, with the same amount of milk. He took the same seven and a half minute shower he always took, and spent the same five minutes shaving that he always did (he hated shaving though, as it is one of the worst tortures man inflicts upon himself). He had the same cup of coffee he always had, while reading the same sections in the same paper. Michael Roberts’ life was the picture of constancy, never ever changing. He spent the same fifteen minutes driving to work, stopping at the same stop signs and red lights, and, okay, it is highly likely that the point of this paragraph ahs been made. Michael Roberts is having a normal day, expecting it to be normal, but completely unaware of something drastic and life changing that was going to occur. Got it? Good.
Fast forward to a few hours after lunch.
The phone rang on his desk, with a ring that was perfectly normal and not at all foreboding or forecasting any sort of doom, and …
Hey! OW!
Alright, alright, alright.
Enough with the normalcy and suspenseful build up.
Sheesh.
Why is everyone so damn pushy.
OW!
ALRIGHT, moving on, so the damn phone rang and Michael answered it.
“R&B Air and Heat, this is Michael.”
R&B Air and Heat, of course, is Michael’s employer. Big surprise there, right?
“What sort of sound is it making?”
A fly flew lazily into the room, and began to buzz around the phone.
“Oh yeah, that is typical. You have had the unit about a couple years now, yeah?”
The fly landed on the desk, when all of a sudden….
…
Ha, it seems everyone is hanging in complete suspense and mystery about what is about to happen which no doubt will be extraordinarily dramatic and shocking, so those who are light hearted should leave. Now.
It is amazing how empowering it is to sit here and have total control of the story. Bwa ha ha ha!!
“Oh? Where do you live?”
Okay, so the fly narrowly avoided being smashed by the palm of a human hand and flew back out the window, as no one was possibly able to guess.
“Yeah, that model tends to do that after a year or two. Not very reliable. There are much better units out there. You had the bad luck to get a place with the bad one”
And odd thing to note about R&B Air and Heat is that during the summer, as it is now, the window is inevitably open. That is because, ironically enough, R&B Air and Heat’s air condition is broken, and has been broken for, oh, about three years now. Strange, huh?
“Alright ma’am, I will be there in about twenty minutes.”
Michael Roberts hung up the phone in a way that was totally contradictory to the very dramatic nature of the phone call that just ended.
“Hey, Rick, I’m headed over to Maple Ridge to do some work on one of the five-nines that are always falling apart.”
Rick Harding is one of the other four people who work at R&B Air and Heat besides Michael Roberts. No more than two people are ever there at any given time. Michael and Rick are there on the weekdays during the normal working hours, while two other guys, Brian and Ed, work only on the weekends. The manager, Fred, rarely actually comes in to work and does not really do much. Incidently, R and B do not actually stand for anything. One would think that R and B stand for the last names of the guys who started the business, but that would make sense, and nobody in his right mind would want that. Rumor has it that the original owner was a big fan of that particular genre of music. R&B Air and Heat are able to get by with so few employees for a number of reasons. Actually, there is only one reason and that is because there is not that much demand for air condition and heating unit technicians. And there are several reasons for that. The first is that the town is small. The second is that the guys at R&B Air and Heat are just so good at what they do, despite the fact that they still have not fixed their own air condition unit, which is really kind of distressing. Okay, so there are really only two reasons, not several. R&B Air and Heat is the only air conditioning and heating unit place in the entire town. There used to be another place, but they really sucked. They were the ones that installed the five-nines which were talked about so much everywhere that always fall apart every five years. Which gives guys like Michael Roberts seemingly lots of work, but only enough to keep him somewhat busy during the day. Anyway, Rick Harding is a buddy of Mike’s from high school who also got a job fixing left over five-nines. He is pretty cool.
“Yeah,” replied Rick. He does not talk all that much.
“I will see you tonight.” By tonight, Michael Roberts meant poker, at his place. Poker is a traditional Thursday night experience for him and his friends, followed by the traditional going to the bar and the winner buying everyone a round the next night, where someone inevitably makes an ass out of himself, usually in the presence of a female who is not looking for a good time, the prude, or at least the rebuffed ass will claim.
“Mmm hmm.” See? Two syllables. Two lousy syllables. Hardly ever talks.
Michael Roberts grabbed his hat and his keys, and left R&B Air and Heat for what would be the last time in his life.
Ha ha, just kidding, he will be back to work in the morning.
Maybe.
Mysterious!!
About twenty minutes later, Michael Roberts’ faded Chevy pulled up to the address in Maple Ridge. Maple Ridge is an apartment complex owned by an elderly couple that are really nice and offer really low rent for some decent places, but generally only to other old folks. The only problem is that they were friends with the morons who installed the less than fantastic air units, and as such were entirely unwilling to replace them for anything else, because that would be “dishonoring their memory,” which is completely idiotic given that no one actually died, they just went out of business since they offered really crappy service and moved away. Hurray for run on sentences!
By this time the protagonist (shame on you if you do not know who that is by now you fool) of the story was knocking on the door of number 205 E.
The door opened.
“Hello ma’am, I’m here from R&B Air and Heat. May I come in?” Michael repeated the mantra he said every day several times a day with perfection. In the back of his head he was congratulating himself on saying it right, (for some reason he used to have a really hard time saying that and would not often switch words around and hilarity would ensure) so he did not really notice the person answering the door.
“Oh yes, do come in, wo not you?”
Her voice brought him out of the back of his mind, and it was fortunate that he was not saying his little spiel just then because he would have completely and utterly messed it up.
The voice was light, with a hint of relief and exasperation, the kind of sound someone who had no air conditioning in the middle of summer would make when the air conditioning repairman had just arrived.
The owner of the voice was beautiful. Very beautiful.
She was what would be referred to in some circles as drop dead gorgeous. She was a little bit less than five and a half feet tall, with the body of a young woman in her mid to late twenties, a medium build, dark, dark, dark hair (very dark), dark, dark, dark eyes(also very dark) that just gave a knowing look that said “I am sexy”, and skin the color of copper, or bronze, or some other sort of metal that was what very tanned skin would look like. It also probably did not hurt his initial impression of her that she was wearing very short and very tight shorts, black with elastic tie in the front, and an equally tight and rather low cut tank top, also black. And she shone with the perspiration that can only be compared to the look of an extraordinarily beautiful woman who has been living without air conditioning in the middle of the summer and sweating oh so lightly from it.
By the time Michael got past the initial appearance of his customer, he realized that she had said something else, and by the look on her face, which was slightly amused and very, very slightly irritated, the kind of irritated look someone who had no air conditioning in the middle of summer would get when the air conditioning repairman had just arrived and then stood on the front doorstep staring and not coming in despite two inviting offers to come inside, it had been another inviting offer to come inside. He had heard the first one, he was just been blown away by the sound of her voice, which was quite beautiful also, sounding like she was singing and singing only to him, blown away so much that he had failed to hear anything else. The phone really failed to convey this even remotely.
“Yes ma’am, can, uh, you just show me to where the, uh, unit is, please?”
“Right this way,” she replied with a light little laugh and a smile as she led the way to the, uh, unit.
Michael scowled at his own stupidity while she showed him in, which is a good thing, because he was so engrossed in insulting himself that he missed her smile. If he had seen that he would have been equally blown away by the smile, as it was easily as dazzling as the rest of the woman was. After he was done scowling he did take the liberty of checking her out from behind, and if there had been anyone else looking at his face as he did, which there was, but at this point this is arguable, but if one really knew what was really going on with everything one would not argue at all and just agree, as there was someone. Anyway, uh, hmmm, yes, if there had been anyone else looking at his face as he did check her out then it would have been quite apparent to that anyone else from Michael’s face that he was clearly thinking something so profound that it can best be summed up with exactly what Michael was thinking, which was just one profound word, the incredibly profound word of “damn.” Get used to run on sentences, because they are funny. In other words, the view from the back was equally as thrilling and equally as enjoyable as the front was, and Michael was both thrilled and enjoying himself.
“Here we are, the bloody thing.” (No she was not British, or at least she did not speak in a british accent, she might have been British for all anyone knows at this point, but for the sake of argument it will just be said that she is not British for the time being.) Moving a cardboard box filled with plates and utensils, she revealed the elusive and troublesome bloody unit.
Michael just noticed the cardboard box, and looking around he noticed a lot more of them. He had not noticed them before because he was, understandably enough, rather quite enjoying the view. It definitely appeared that the woman had recently moved in, and he said as much.
“Yeah, moving was a bitch, but what can you do, you know? I did not really have a choice.”
“You are lucky that you were able to get in these. Was the move job related?” he responded, while bending over the unit, examining it, poking it here and there.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Must have been great moving in to find out this was not working.” He dug in his bag of tools.
“Yeah, it was annoying, but the heat is not that bad. Besides, I rather like the warmth.”
“Yeah it is not really an issue once you get used to it. Take me, I have lived here my whole life, and I like it here well enough. I barely even notice it any more, really.” Selecting a screw driver, he began to open up the case.
“Oh really? Myself, I have been everywhere. Sometimes it feels like I am only in a place long enough to get prepared to leave for the next one.”
“Traveling all the time, eh? You must see a lot of interesting places, meet a lot of interesting people, all that sort of thing.” His hands began looking for the one piece that was always broken.
“Yeah, I guess. It gets dull after a while. Every place, every face, they all blur together. But this place, well! I do not even know where to start!”
“You have got to be kidding me,” he looked up at her incredulously and noticed that she was leaning over, looking at what he was doing with actual interest, not just feigned politeness. He also noticed that she had a nice rack, as his mind was putting it at the moment. Not too big, and not too small. Just the way he liked it “Nothing here ever changes or is interesting. You’re probably the most interesting thing to happen to this place in the last fifty years.” He turned reluctantly back to his work as his fingers found what he was looking for.
“Oh, no! I love it here already. And what happened fifty years ago that could be more interesting than me?”
“Ha! Oh nothing as special as you, just an arbitrary number. Maybe I should say at all instead of the last fifty.” If he had been looking at her he would have noticed that she was glaring at something he otherwise would not have noticed. But he was not, and he did not. “Got it.” With a snap he pulled out an extremely sorry looking piece of metal that looked like it had been used as a shark’s chew toy.
“Am I really that remarkable? Oh, is that the problem?”
“Yes.” Turning around he offered up the offending piece, which she took. “You see, the connection on this is really poor and it gaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” He was about to say it gets extremely hot extremely fast and breaks even faster, but this was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a rather black and rather stealthy cat in his lap with extremely sharp claws that had also arrived in his lap. This is, of course, the recipient of the afore mentioned glare, not that it cared at all, as cats do not really care what anyone thinks of them.
“Mephy! Do not attack the nice repair man!”
“It, um, has rather sharp, um, claws. Uh, would you mind if, uh, ow?”
“Mephy, release, now. Do not give me that look. I do not care if you have not eaten lunch yet. Neither have I. You eat when I eat and you know it. Release.”
The cat gave a quick shake of its head, looked at Michael in a way that quite clearly said “I own you,” and hopped off, much to the extreme joy of the owner of the lap in which he had previously been seated.
“That is a nice, um, cat, you have there. Uh, she? is quite the cat. Muffy?”
“Thanks. Sorry about that. His name is short for Mephistopheles.” After noticing his look she added that she rather enjoyed Renaissance era English plays, particularly tragedies. “He certainly fits the part, does not he?”
“Most definitely.” Not that he had any idea what she was talking about. He made a mental note to ask the guys tonight what they knew about English literature, as he found it all rather boring. Not that they would likely know either, but they were sources of surprising information sometimes, particularly in things that chicks might talk about. Like plays.
“So are you going to replace that part or just fix it?”
“Oh, replace it, definitely. This brand melts at the end really quickly. This one will work much better,” digging in his bag and finding the replacement part as he spoke.
“Sweet. What did this thing do anyway?” she asked while turning over the metal tube.
“It connects two other sections and blocks the heat from them and keeps it towards the back. That way when the air is on you will get cold air instead of hot. Plus the other parts will not overheat and explode on you.” He sounded like he really enjoyed explaining all of this, as do most people who really enjoy their particular job sound when explaining things about their job.
“Ah, so since it melted on this side, then…”
“Then the cold air was merely mixing in with all of the heat instead of going out. So you got a lot of noise and no results. There we go.”
“That is it? It is all completed and fixed and everything?”
“Yeah, you should be fine for another seven or eight years, and by that time you will need a new unit anyway.” Getting up, he put the cover back on and put his tools away.
“Wow, that worked out really well, and fast. Thank you so much! How much do I owe you, ummm, Michael?” she replied, looking down at his shirt for his name.
“It was no problem ma’am, my pleasure. Here is the bill ma’am,” handing her the bill, or at least something that was doing a very good job of pretending it was a bill if it was not in fact the real bill itself.
“Call me Gloria, please. I can not stand all of this ma’am business. It makes me feel like an old woman! Cash is fine, yes?” She dug in one of the many boxes for some money.
“Alright, Gloria. And yes, cash is fine. I will need to go to my truck for change though.”
“No you do not. Keep the change,” she replied, handing him a folded up bill that was of a denomination which was much higher than what he was expecting.
With a look of surprise, he took the bill. “Thank you very much!” He took a moment to search through his bag. “If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to call us, or me, again.” He handed her the result of his search.
Taking his business card, which just so happened to also have his home phone number in case of any emergency evening or night calls or at least that is what he would say the reason was, she thanked him again. “I will definitely call you if I need anything.”
“See you around.”
“Mmm hmmm.” She shut the door.
As Michael walked out of the building and got into his truck, he thought his luck might be changing. Gloria was certainly the hottest woman he had ever met, and she was really nice too. Down to earth. Yes, things just might be looking up. Humming a bit of tune that he could not quite place and did not really know why he was humming it in the first place, which was actually Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady” and certainly would make sense to Michael if he actually bothered to try and figure out what the song he was humming was, he drove back to work to finish up before heading home.
Gloria watched Michael drive away, and then smiled.
“Do not look at me that way, Mephistopheles.”
Mephistopheles huffed and left the room.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Results are still coming in, but here are the results for Spotsylvania County:
R E Houck Democrat 3,857 56.11%
R G Stuber Republican 3,008 43.76%
Kick ass Houck, kick ass.
R D Orrock Republican 4,496 98.29%
Big surprise there, as no one was running against him. Nice guy. His kids are awesome.
Those are both with about two thirds reporting.
R E Houck Democrat 3,857 56.11%
R G Stuber Republican 3,008 43.76%
Kick ass Houck, kick ass.
R D Orrock Republican 4,496 98.29%
Big surprise there, as no one was running against him. Nice guy. His kids are awesome.
Those are both with about two thirds reporting.
Make sure you go vote today. But please, if you can help it, don't vote for Mark Obenshain, as he is an ass. Thank you.
Oh, and this is a great joke from Craig Kilborn:
"Senator John McCain recently compared the situation in Iraq to the Vietnam era -- to which President Bush replied, 'What does Iraq have in common with drinking beer in Texas?'"
Haha!
Oh, and this is a great joke from Craig Kilborn:
"Senator John McCain recently compared the situation in Iraq to the Vietnam era -- to which President Bush replied, 'What does Iraq have in common with drinking beer in Texas?'"
Haha!
Sunday, November 02, 2003
Here goes:
Michael Roberts just wanted a girl friend. No, that is not quite right. Michael Roberts just wanted a normal girlfriend. There we go. And Kim was anything but normal. She was really rather frightening sometimes. And what is even more frightening is that she is probably the least frightening of Michael's girlfriends. Well, they are not exactly his girlfriends. Perhaps psycho female stalkers would be a better way to put it. Emphasis on the word "psycho." He would prefer it if they were not out to kill him either. That is generally not a very fun thing, going out on a date with a seemingly nice girl only to find out that she wants to kill you. Ask Michael about that. He would definitely nod his head in agreement and say something along the lines of "yeah that is generally not very fun." Actually, he would probably go running screaming from the room if someone mentioned anyone trying to kill him, particularly a psycho female stalker. That is assuming one could find him in the first place to ask him that. He is not exactly available at the moment, as he is currently in hiding and on the run from said psycho female stalkers. But not that will help him much. He can not exactly hide from them fairly well, but not on any failing on his part, oh no. He was a Boy Scout when he was younger, Eagle Scout actually. He has the sticker on his rear windshield on his truck. Well, had. His truck is not exactly around anymore. Anyway, during the course of his scouting days he became quite good at hiding in the woods and even would have earned the "not able to be found even if someone really wanted to find you" merit badge, assuming there was a "not able to be found even if someone really wanted to find you" merit badge, which there is not. So Michael is very good at hiding and running away from people. It is just that these particular people, the psycho female stalkers, are very, very good at finding people whom they want to find. Particularly if they do not want to be found. To even find Michael Roberts in the first place is quite the accomplishment, as he lives in a small little town that is really not near anything but a whole lot of nothing.
This probably is not making too much sense right now, as these psycho female stalkers have not been introduced nor even had their existence explained. Take Kim for instance. Kim Miller. Though that is not her real name, of course. Her real name is, well, perhaps this is not the right time for that. After all, Michael Roberts has not really even been introduced, and he is vitally important. All that is really known about him is that he wants a normal girlfriend, was a Boy Scout, and is currently running from a bunch of women, one of whom is Kim, who are anything but normal girlfriends. So, more explanation is required.
Michael Roberts.
Nice name, do not you think?
Yeah, it is pretty catchy. That is what his parents thought.
So Michael Roberts is your fairly average every day typical guy. Well, he used to be. Or rather, he thought he used to be.
So Michael Roberts used to think he was your fairly average every day typical guy. He was a fairly average student in high school, getting mostly Cs with the occasional B and D, and every so often and A or an F would squeak onto his report card. He played sports, like most of the guys did, and was okay at them. He was never good enough to be a starter for anything, but decent enough to get second or third string for whatever sport he was playing at the time. Mostly football (he was not really any one position, playing both defense and offense), but he played a season of baseball (he was a pinch hitter, not being good enough at anything else to play in the field for any real period of time, but decent enough at hitting to come in when needed) and a season or two of basketball (he was a small forward, not big enough to play too much in the paint but not good enough at shooting or ball control to be anything else). He liked beer and red meat, had subscriptions to Sports Illustrated and Playboy, enjoyed porn and poker, knew enough about the world to know he did not care about anything outside of his country and not all that much in it to tell the truth. He could name the president and a senator or two, but had no idea who the head of the Environmental Protection Agency was. He voted every now and then, but generally only for the important elections. Sensing a pattern here? He had a job as an air conditioning and heating unit repair man, making enough money to get by plus a little extra, but not too much. He was of average height and weight, had brown hair and brown eyes. He drove a faded red 95 Chevy, but it got him where he needed to go. He had had a few girlfriends in high school and after, but none of them led to anything that was really serious. He was twenty six. He was your fairly average every day typical guy, and he liked it that way.
Too bad it was all going to change.
Day one, a day behind.
Wow it sucks.
Michael Roberts just wanted a girl friend. No, that is not quite right. Michael Roberts just wanted a normal girlfriend. There we go. And Kim was anything but normal. She was really rather frightening sometimes. And what is even more frightening is that she is probably the least frightening of Michael's girlfriends. Well, they are not exactly his girlfriends. Perhaps psycho female stalkers would be a better way to put it. Emphasis on the word "psycho." He would prefer it if they were not out to kill him either. That is generally not a very fun thing, going out on a date with a seemingly nice girl only to find out that she wants to kill you. Ask Michael about that. He would definitely nod his head in agreement and say something along the lines of "yeah that is generally not very fun." Actually, he would probably go running screaming from the room if someone mentioned anyone trying to kill him, particularly a psycho female stalker. That is assuming one could find him in the first place to ask him that. He is not exactly available at the moment, as he is currently in hiding and on the run from said psycho female stalkers. But not that will help him much. He can not exactly hide from them fairly well, but not on any failing on his part, oh no. He was a Boy Scout when he was younger, Eagle Scout actually. He has the sticker on his rear windshield on his truck. Well, had. His truck is not exactly around anymore. Anyway, during the course of his scouting days he became quite good at hiding in the woods and even would have earned the "not able to be found even if someone really wanted to find you" merit badge, assuming there was a "not able to be found even if someone really wanted to find you" merit badge, which there is not. So Michael is very good at hiding and running away from people. It is just that these particular people, the psycho female stalkers, are very, very good at finding people whom they want to find. Particularly if they do not want to be found. To even find Michael Roberts in the first place is quite the accomplishment, as he lives in a small little town that is really not near anything but a whole lot of nothing.
This probably is not making too much sense right now, as these psycho female stalkers have not been introduced nor even had their existence explained. Take Kim for instance. Kim Miller. Though that is not her real name, of course. Her real name is, well, perhaps this is not the right time for that. After all, Michael Roberts has not really even been introduced, and he is vitally important. All that is really known about him is that he wants a normal girlfriend, was a Boy Scout, and is currently running from a bunch of women, one of whom is Kim, who are anything but normal girlfriends. So, more explanation is required.
Michael Roberts.
Nice name, do not you think?
Yeah, it is pretty catchy. That is what his parents thought.
So Michael Roberts is your fairly average every day typical guy. Well, he used to be. Or rather, he thought he used to be.
So Michael Roberts used to think he was your fairly average every day typical guy. He was a fairly average student in high school, getting mostly Cs with the occasional B and D, and every so often and A or an F would squeak onto his report card. He played sports, like most of the guys did, and was okay at them. He was never good enough to be a starter for anything, but decent enough to get second or third string for whatever sport he was playing at the time. Mostly football (he was not really any one position, playing both defense and offense), but he played a season of baseball (he was a pinch hitter, not being good enough at anything else to play in the field for any real period of time, but decent enough at hitting to come in when needed) and a season or two of basketball (he was a small forward, not big enough to play too much in the paint but not good enough at shooting or ball control to be anything else). He liked beer and red meat, had subscriptions to Sports Illustrated and Playboy, enjoyed porn and poker, knew enough about the world to know he did not care about anything outside of his country and not all that much in it to tell the truth. He could name the president and a senator or two, but had no idea who the head of the Environmental Protection Agency was. He voted every now and then, but generally only for the important elections. Sensing a pattern here? He had a job as an air conditioning and heating unit repair man, making enough money to get by plus a little extra, but not too much. He was of average height and weight, had brown hair and brown eyes. He drove a faded red 95 Chevy, but it got him where he needed to go. He had had a few girlfriends in high school and after, but none of them led to anything that was really serious. He was twenty six. He was your fairly average every day typical guy, and he liked it that way.
Too bad it was all going to change.
Day one, a day behind.
Wow it sucks.
