Mr. Ecru's Mad Mad Mad Mad World

It's March, time for a new story!

2009-03-23T11:30:00.002-05:00

A bad trend has formed for me here. Too many places to write, not enough time to address them all. Most things lately have been old scholl pen to paper writing. Probably has something to do with the fountain pen I got.

For the 2 of you still looking here, I'll make an effort to transcribe a thing or two in the comming days.

Jack: Three words that mean so much

2008-05-29T22:27:00.003-05:00

He watched the news every night hoping to hear those three words that would tell him that finally, yes FINALLY, he would get the recognition he believed he deserved. Night after night, every broadcast on every channel, and still nothing. Early morning. Noon. Evening. 6 o'clock. 10 o'clock. 11 o'clock. He had setup his multiple TiVo and DVR's to record all stations within 100 miles, just in case one of the smaller channels had broke it first.

Nothing.

The little sugar glider that had been asleep in Jack's shirt pocket begins to stretch, clawing Jack through his undershirt and leaving little scratches on his chest as is climbs up to his shoulder. Taking a brief look at it's bewildered owner, it flies across the tiny apartment into its cage for the night. Pushing a treat into the cage's food container, Jack makes his way to bed after the 1:30am news again fails to satisfy his need to be found out.

Placing his cell phone onto its charging base, Jack reads a few pages of the latest copy of Highlights, clicks of the light, and finally calls it a day.

But he can't sleep. Jack can't sleep. Too much is still on his mind. This is usually bad for someone other than Jack, for if Jack could sleep just for one night, the people who need the park as their home and resting place would be safe. But not tonight, Jack can't sleep.

Bouncing off the walls, the back light of his phone flashes brightly in the darkness of the bedroom. Knowing its too early for the charge to be complete, Jack turns his attention to the alert flashing on the device. Now he is glad he signed up for those real-time news alert messages. It's been nice getting updates while out during the course of a normal workday, but this time, Jack is truly happy. Across the screen flashes ***BREAKING NEWS***. Clicking the link contained within, the story begins with those three words Jack has been waiting so long to hear:

"Police are baffled..."

Your Story 11 - Contest Entry

2008-02-05T15:40:00.000-05:00

I swear this is how it happened. Figuring my friends where trying to play a trick on me, I picked up the lightsaber toy from the table and started messing around with it in the kitchen and dining room. Waving it around like I was really finally going to cut off that annoying Jar Jar’s head, or defecting blaster shots or whatever. I was even doing dialouge like I used to when I was a kid playing my room.

I came to rescue you.
They told me you killed him.
I got a bad feeling about this.
How can I see anything with the blast shield down?

I figured, my friends know me well enough, they’ve probably hidden a camera around here so I’ll give them a good show. It’s not like I’ve never done this before. Like I said, I thought it was supposed to be fun. After a few rounds of this nonsense, I look at the lightsaber a little closer to see how to get the sword part to come out. Some you just wrist whip and it shoots out, others you have to find the release switch and the spring inside shoots the whole thing up like it was really electric light. But I look at it and I can’t figure it out. Checking the ends, I notice there’s no little plastic tubes inside or anything. I just looks like a suped up flashlight. I slump onto the couch and reach for the remote. I must have bumped something ‘cause all the sudden this thing lights up. I mean really lights up, like in the movies. So now I look like I’m holding a huge green glow stick in my house, and I can’t turn it off. I’m spining around now, trying to figure out what to do and not stab myself accidentaly. I carved up my coffee table and left a long black burn mark from the living room back through the kitchen all the way to the door that leads back outside. If there is a camera, maybe they’ll see me freaking out and tell me “jokes over” click a button and turn the thing of remotely.

Then it dies, or shuts off at least. I’m sweating pretty badly now, still not sure of whats going on, when I see this guy outside my window wearing a monks costume.

Wait, don’t tell me that it’s some Jedi Master, and this is all real and you can use the Force now. Is that what you are about to tell me?

Doc, I told you. I swear this is how it happened. I didn’t blow up anything. I’m not bad guy here. I was being trained and I didn’t have good control then so I dropped things.

I think I’ve heard enough for today. We’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow after you take your medicine and get some rest ok?

The psychologist stands to leave thinking “this is why they call this the ‘looney bin’” and starts to walk out of the room. Suddenly he feels himself being lifted off the ground. Instincively he reaches for what should be hands or arms carrying him up further, but nothing is there. His body floats, spins slowly around until he is again facing his patient.

Doc, I suggest you rethink your diagnosis here. And be careful not to distract me. I told you, sometimes I drop things.

Driven to Greatness

2007-07-06T10:39:00.000-05:00

Mr. E always tried to do be the best at everything, usually with some measure of success. It never occured to him that someone else might also have that same kind of drive and determination. These two very focused individuals meeting could either be a sign of greatness, or one of disaster. He would think that to himself upon learning of the others like him. "Maybe, just maybe, I can accomplish something spectacular if I can get the others like me to listen."

As he buried the third non-believer however, Mr. E began to realize a very different dream. First he was going to need a bigger yard. But more importantly, Mr. E purposed "if I am the only one left, than THAT would be greatness personified."

If you are reading this, chances are you are not driven enough to be on Mr. E's list. However, you probably know someone in your way that may fit that profile. All he needs is a name. Sounds like a win win right?

"Transplanted"

2007-02-26T12:06:00.000-05:00

They cut me out of my mother just after she died. If the bullet had been a little left or right, well, they still would've had to cut me out. Except she'd be alive and not me. Needless to say I never knew my mother. Growing up I was told countless times how nice and wonderful she was. How she couldn't wait to bring me into the world. She did take a beautiful picture. The man I knew as my father did his best to show me how much he loved me. Even after he married and had my half-siblings. Always fair he was. He was the first to see if he matched when I needed a new kidney.

Shock or amazement, you decide which. Not only in having someone so young with failed kidneys, but then to discover its not your child. Apparently only mom knew. No match was to be had there. We did find a donor though. A gentleman that was serving out his final days on death row matched . Whatever it was that made my body so difficult to partner, he had it too. But that just raised more questions. What else did my mother hide from everyone?

After grandad dies some years later, grandma started opening up a bit. Then the skeletons came flooding out. I wasn't what you'd call a healthy child, and now I was beginning to understand why. Drugs, alcohol, abuse both physical and mental. All my life I couldn't understand why someone would shoot my mother. This version provided many possibilities. But anger drove me to find out who.

The police knew. The caught and prosecuted the man. Executed some 5 years ago now. However, this knowledge troubled me more than the relief I was expecting. Which is worse, not being able to face my mother's killer, or knowing his kidney saved their daughter's life?

I got a little carried away....

2006-02-14T12:45:00.000-05:00

Gnu here.

Miss me? I've managed to gain most of my coordination back. Is that the right way to explain that since I kinda didn't really have it to begin with? Well, whatever it is, I'm pretty much normal now. It takes a bit of concentration but I'm managing. I get distracted every now and then and have an "episode", my therapist calls it that, but I'm super thanks for asking!

I found out what the couch was, not funny. I did however manage to land an agent who's been really helpful in getting me ready for some real work. She seems to think I have a real future, just we don't know in what yet.

I have an appointment for some headshots, later this week. On an aside real quick I did NOT like the sound of this at first but she assures me that its ok and that no one is going to shoot me in the head. In preparation I've gotten some hair coloring and cut. I'm going to the gym more, and yes with my coordination issues, its quite a sight I'm sure. I was told I should shave. I looked at my agent funny when she said that because I figured that she could tell that I shave already. If I hadn't, I'd be a grizzly mess by now. Then she explained it.

Oh.....There.

I tried it, and I must admit that it did make a huge (no pun intended) difference. I kept going, with the intent of cleaning it up a little, make it all even and such.

I got a little carried away.

See, there's a spot between the balls and the butt crack that needed attention. I gotta bend waaaay over to see and reach it. I trim it up a bit and keep seeing more little stubborn strands that won't go away. Up a little, shave a little, up a little, shave a little........Next thing I know, I've breached into my ass crack. I decided I couldn't stop half way, that would be like shaving, well only half your ass, so I went on and finished.

Oh, I tried to save time by using some of that hair removal lotion crap, but you try standing still, in the shower, with your ass cheek's rubbing together all lubed up. Remember who's memory I have here, not a pleasant situation for me to say the least.

In the end its all done and I hope to get some work soon. I'll be sure to check in when you can see/hear me!

I can never use that razor again can I?

Gnu Lowenstein

2005-12-27T13:27:00.000-05:00

I'm back! I decided upon a name for myself, Gnu Lowenstein.

I was watching TV the other day and came accross this old childrens show. Something with a roller coaster and puppets and stuff. There was this thing pretending to do news and it always got messed up in the end. But he always stayed positive, sorta, and kept on repeating "No News is Good News with Gary Gnu." It hit me! Why not just keep my name "new"?!? I mean I am after all and outside of being a clone (that's still just between us right?), I figured this is a great way to keep my name in people's memories!

So where did Lowenstein come from? Well that took a little more thought. I have decided that I want to get into the entertainment biz. I seem to have some shared memories or dreams of that nature. And while the original didn't pursue them, I think I'll give it a go. But to do that I'll need a name that get's me in the door. Strange as it sounds, most people don't buy me as a clone. I play it off as a character I created and they just aren't interested. But I noticed something about all the producers, writers, directors, casting agents, and so on. Everyone they gave a shot to had the same kinda name as they did!

So I picked up a phone book and tried looking for a similar sounding name without trying to be too obvious. I couldn't decide on one so I took parts from a few different ones and came up with Lowenstein.

Can anyone point me in the direction of this casting couch I keep hearing so much about?

I'm new here

2005-12-14T16:51:00.000-05:00

HI!

I'm new. I don't have a name yet but maybe you could help me?

I'm a clone. (shhh, it's supposed to be a secret.)

Yeah, I know, a clone. Hey, I don't make fun of you because you're "normal"?! I kinda sorta escaped, got thrown out, of the facility. Apparently, as one of the first batch of human clones, I'm the dud. What do they know?! Just because I can walk, speak and so on, just like the others I might add, but didn't get all the memories of my original, that makes me a dud. I believe they're the duds. Really, other than mute supermodels, since when did we really need two of anyone?

I can't really talk long, but I just wanted to see if there might be another "dud" out there who would like to learn how to eat food again. It's not pretty. I have the physical ability of a newborn when it comes to putting food in my mouth. I can run to the hotdog stand, but can't quite get the dog in the propper orafice. Which reminds me, any future scientists out there, do the clone a favor and don't clone a guy who spent more time shoving crap up his ass than in his mouth. The dominant memories are the only ones I got.

I'll be in touch and maybe by then I'll have named myself!

I'm an emagrated native Floridian

2005-12-07T21:35:00.000-05:00

He denied it all his life.

No, not a Floridian. Born in New England, lived here since a baby, but not a native Floridian. They are an endangered species. Nobody who lives in Florida is actually from there.

He could prove it too. When it got to be a little cooler out in the winter, and everyone else had to out on a parka for that overnight drop to 70, he just threw on a long sleeve t-shirt and went about his merry way. Loved to play ball in that weather too. Summers always seemed to drain him more, must be more of that northerner in him.

Always seemed to feel right at home visiting the big cities up north. New York was a favorite. Just hang out and absorb the vibe of the city. He always thought he could live near there and work in the city.

Then he got a chance to visit in the winter. SWEET!! Possiblity of snow high?!? AWESOME!! Couldn't remember snow, this is gonna be great!!

Steps of the plane.......
FUCKITSCOLDWHOTHEHELLCANSTANDTHISBULLSHIT-WEATHERIGOTTABEHEREAWEEK!?!?

Moral of the story:

ICAN'TEVENTHINKOFTHEMORALIT'SSODAMNFUCKIN-COLDWHENDOESMYPLANELEAVEGODDAMNIT?!?!

Quick hits by demand....

2005-11-21T13:14:00.000-05:00

If Gizmo was taking a rather large dump and got some splashback......would those Mogwi be considered "ass-babies"?

~~~~~

Fake News Story #1 --> Taking a tip from Animal Control, orphanages have begun euthanizing children that aren't cute enough for adoption.

~~~~

Fake News Story #2 --> The states new school design features a hydraulic conveyor belt that literaly makes the students walk uphill both ways.

~~~~

NOTIT! (too late)

~~~~~

Testing the power of suggestion : you have to pee right now!

Why does everything taste like chicken?

2005-11-01T12:53:00.000-05:00

Why does everything taste like chicken?

I believe there is a conspiracy between McCormick, Astor, Goya, and the other spice producing companies. It’s they’re fault everything tastes like chicken.

If you just eat chicken, or steak, or hamburger…it has a flavor each to its own. None of them alone are all that flavorful but each is distinctly different than the other. However, once you add a little spice, some thyme, some BBQ sauce, honey mustard, nutmeg…..well now it tastes like something else completely! We’ve been conditioned to not want chicken to taste like chicken. We want it to taste like lemon, garlic, honey mustard, and BBQ. We eat so much of this coated, breaded, marinated stuff that when we do get a taste of something else that is also seasoned similarly, we automatically remark that it tastes like chicken!!

If you taught a small child that what we know as yellow was blue. And what we know as blue was red, they would learn it that way. Give that same child a hamburger but tell them it’s chicken, and that’s what they know. We’ve all been conditioned in that same way.

Think of the argument that was made in “The Matrix”. While they’re all sitting around eating this stuff that looked to me like watered down rice pudding, the characters start talking about what it tastes like. You get remarks like runny eggs, or it looks like snot. The geeky kid says it reminds him of “tasty wheat” whatever the hell that is. He goes on to ask how the machines knew what to make things taste like and maybe that’s why everything tastes like chicken because they didn’t know what chicken really tastes like.

So when things you eat taste similar to honey mustard, BBQ, lemon garlic and so on, do they really taste like chicken? How do you know that shit doesn’t taste like chicken? What if you where to batter and deep fry some shit? Dip it in some sauce? Sweet and sour shit?!? Could that possibly taste like chicken? If you coat it in anything, it just might taste like chicken.

Because really, what does chicken taste like? We don’t know and they like it that way.

Strange Clients : Class Action of One

2005-10-20T12:46:00.000-05:00

I was given this letter today. I do not know this person but somehow he got my name and wanted some advice. Generally a consultation is free, so that's not a problem per se, but, well, I don't think I can help this person out. Here, I'll let you decide:

My name is not important. I had this letter sent to you based on your reputation for handling the more eccentric of us. I sincerely hope that you can be of assistance to my situation. Allow me to explain, I lived in Louisianna. I say lived because Katrina changed all that.

My livelihood has been seriously affected by this disaster. I used to run one of the area's stuff marts, more commonly known as tourist traps. I had t-shirts, glasses, maps, cameras and film, and of course beads. God I hated those things, but every friggin tourist who came by just had to buy beads. It could be October and they'd want those stupid chunks of plastic. Cost me about 3 cents a piece, but I could sell them for around $2-3 each. Ah, good times.

Like most of the other merchants here, insurance was required but we only carried the barest minimum and that simply is not enough. I would like your assistance in bringing suit against the city of New Orleans, the State of Louisianna, the Governor personally, and France. I realize that this may be difficult in some cases but I think they hold responsibility for this disaster. They let us live here for christ's sake! And France, as the previous owner of this land area, knew they sold a bad property to the U.S. so they should be held responsible for that fraud.

There are plenty of other merchants here who I'm sure might join us in some sort of class action suit, if one could be put together based on may case. But there is still one more little issue you should be aware of. As you noticed, the postmark of this letter is from Texas. I wrote this letter and gave it to the community lawyer before he left. I only wanted him to send it to you if things got so bad here that I or we might need your help.

So you have this letter because I am dead.

Will that be a problem?

Quickies

2005-07-11T15:53:00.000-05:00

"Laced"

As Big Bird took another hit off the bong
I wondered what made Grover wear that thong
And why is Kermit now Orange? That's just wrong.....
I supposed I must have slept wrong

But damn those brownies were good!!!

~~~~~~~~~

"I got this friend...."

do you ever enunciate words in your head
Talk to yourself slower so as to not be misread?

Oh....me either.

Benny Hunt - The End (Section 8)

2004-11-22T08:46:00.001-05:00

There was only one bullet in the gun. I’m not sure if Benny knew who he was going to shoot that day, but it was obvious that someone wasn’t going home.

Turned out to be him. The bullet tore through Benny’s face like a razor blade to tissue paper.

Dey used to tell Benny that everything was a sign. The reason they met at that time in their lives was a sign. When she lost her job at the CU, it meant they shouldn’t see each other anymore. They joked that if she had gotten pregnant from him, it would be a sign. Miracle more like it. When both of her cars were destroyed by the multiple hurricanes that summer, he told her it must be a sign.

All he ever wanted was for her to be happy. In his own weird way, he got that. Because the wedding legally was final before all hell broke lose, they could not get it annulled. Duress happened after they said “I do.” The prenuptial agreement Carlos wanted so badly, now worked very much against him in their divorce. For what amounted to a few days marriage, Dey will never have to work again.

I did see her visit Benny once in the hospital. She still believed in him. Some women are a glutton I guess. I’ll never forget the look on her face when he explained exactly what really happened to Bekka.

Far from innocent, Benny never did get convicted of the murder. Some rookie cop had miss tagged evidence from the crime scene. That little technicality was all we needed.

He did still serve time for attempted murder on Carlos. Benny served 13 days before he got shived in the shower.

He was survived by his son and daughter, two brothers Mike and Stephen Hunt, and a sister who asked to remain anonymous. I see them every now and then and they all ask me the same thing, did I know. About Bekka, about what happened at the wedding. Did I know before hand and do nothing?

Sometimes I hate my job.

Strange Clients : Benny Hunt (Chapters 1-7)

2004-11-17T13:23:00.000-05:00

ONE

This story is not an endorsement of any kind. I do not approve of what my client, my friend, did, but in some small way I understand.

Crimes of passion come in all forms and styles. Not always the ends justifying the means. Logical thought goes out the window. Almost never do those on the outside understand. Benny thought no one would.

Benny Hunt was raised as a member of the local congregation. You know, the ones that wake some of you up on Saturday mornings? As a whole, they are a good people.

His upbringing was very strict, even within the limits of the church. I mention this because it seemed to be one of several reoccurring themes throughout Benny’s writings. Much of his focus, especially near the end, was on that and how it affected his entire life.

The other focus was very much on how he viewed his life at home. You will see in the pages to follow, much of this will be taken word for word from Benny’s own hand, the slight slow spiral downward. Mix depression with denial and add a dash of lustful hunger and you get the idea.

I do not believe that Benny Hunt here is, well was, an evil person. He did many bad things. And wiling he was to pay for them.

Almost too willing if you asked me. But I’ll let you decide for yourself.

TWO

I’m not sure how I got to this place. It all seems like it’s happening so fast. I had a life. A wife, kids, great job.

I threw it all away.

Why did I do that?

She made it seem as if everything would be okay. I wanted to believe her so much. Everything I did was for her. Now, she’s thrown me away too.

This cannot stand. If I must pay for my crimes, and pay I shall, than so shall she.

Benny wrote this just before the wedding. I should have knows he’d try something there. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Benny worked at a growing Credit Union. Having been there for almost 10 years had afforded him some leeway in getting his job done. Cid, his manager of the last couple years, told me that he was an unbelievable asset to the group.

He had either worked in, or around every department in the CU during his time there. Most of the managers in the end were folks that he used to be peers with. In some cases Benny had trained them! He didn’t seem to mind really. All the glamour of management did not appeal to him. Just being able to work in his own style and get things done were enough.

And it paid off for the CU also. They had grown from just under 300M in assets when he arrived to where in the next year or two they will be over 1B. Tripled in size! This is not all just because of Benny, but he’s had a large part in it.

At home however, it was a bit different story. Benny had married his first real girlfriend when they were both still pretty young. Ok really young. Rebekka Waters. According to public records, he was 19 and she was still only 18. They, like most young people, thought they had it all figured out.

Well, they had one thing figured out. But you can’t base a marriage only on sex. Shouldn’t anyway. I’ll get off my soapbox now. Knowing that now is no consolation for Benny. Certainly not for Bekka.

Like most couples, they had their own share of problems. Still, these two were unique. Benny put it too me like this:

“When I say that we had problems, I don't mean to make them sound any more glorious than anybody else's. Almost every couple, married or otherwise, has the same type of problems crop up at some point in their relationship.

The difference between one couple and another is all in how they deal with those problems. The good book says "Don't go to bed with conflict unresolved." Good advice in principle. Being egotistical humans, of course, we try our own ways with many varied results.When we had problems or issues or just minor differences of opinion, we did not actually ever resolve the problem. It started all very innocently. While dating, if there was a disagreement over what to have for dinner or what movie to see, one of us would compromise and go along with the other.

In reality, we just gave in.

So proud of the fact that we never fought, we never fought.

Avoiding that first fight became the goal of any and every confrontation. Thus the groundwork was laid. This is not always a bad thing. Compromise is part of every relationship.

Taking turns lying down is not.A friend told me, before we got married, that we would fight about money more than anything else. Since we didn't have any, I didn't think that would be a problem for us. Ah, the ignorance of youth. You're so invincible.

Delusional really. Whether you have money or not does not predicate the fight. Lack of or a surplus of money will cause fights. In truth the fight is really normally about what to do with it.

Pay the bills.
Buy stuff for your apartment or house.
Save.
Disappear for a weekend. A week.
Buy clothes.
That new purse or the dress she'll need for some event that has yet to be planned.
That new game or gadget you wanted.
A new TV.

Pick your battles. I would tell myself that. Nothing really seemed to matter at the time to be worth fighting over. Slowly that changes.

She thought I never cared. I would simply leave it to her to make the decisions. She would still ask, but only out of obligation. After a while even that stopped. We're not talking about what to have for dinner here.

I would come home, and be told we were getting a new car, or furniture, or going to spend the weekend painting, or something. All of these things were in fact needed, but the total lack of communication made them into mountains.

By the time I would have a chance to think about it, it seemed, to me at least, to no longer matter what I thought. Good idea or bad, any input was unneeded, unwanted input. Even if I agreed, I was perceived as being overly critical.So we swing to the other extreme, where now I supposedly make the decisions. But everything is so different than what I would do that I have to ask questions. After a few rounds of that, we're both frustrated, again.

Just let me do it then, she'd say.

Fine.

See, another conflict resolved. And we didn't have to fight about it.

Wonderful, just fucking perfect.”

*******

From the outside looking in, Benny had the perfect life. Two beautiful children, a job that he was good at, secure in. Very religious. Happy. He was able to project “happy” to all those surrounding him. Well, content anyway. All the while, inside, he was being eating alive by constant doubt regarding his faith, his work, even the home life he thought he wanted.

From our conversations, he made sure I knew how trapped he felt.
Out of control.
Depressed without the sadness.
A shell of his former self.
Totally aware while also blinded.
Confused.
Alone.
A hypocrite, a liar.

Benny saw himself as one of the greatest actors the world has never seen. He saw it as he had convinced everyone that this person they knew was actually him.

He felt stuck in character. It wasn’t real to him anymore. This was turning into a bad movie, a bad ride, and he wanted off.

It was about this time that he met Deyanra.

THREE

Benny described her as being a petite, Cuban woman. Long black hair hung past her shoulders, lined with slight yellow/blond highlights. Said she had the most beautiful amber brown eyes he had ever seen. He told me he wished he could stare into them forever.

They met, like most affairs of this nature, at work. She had been working in one of the remote offices while he was in the main branch, so they had never actually met before. When they moved her department in to his building, it was his responsibility to make sure they got connected to the systems ok and were able to function for the next day’s work.

Benny made certain it took all day.

Immediately they got along. Mostly, her department was made up of older folks than she, so she was simply happy to find someone in her own age group to talk to. As it turned out, they had quite a bit in common.

Both had similar heritage. She wanted to get married, was engaged actually. He was married, had kids. She wanted children badly. They shared tastes in music, movies, television shows. Benny thought he was dreaming.

He had been attracted to others before. But this was different. Nothing would ever really happen of course, he thought. But enjoy the moment. It’s perfectly normal to flirt, makes the day go by a bit more pleasantly. Besides it’s harmless.

Everyone seemed to notice how well they got along, and the rumors began.

FOUR

This is an entry from Benny’s journal.

This is my new year’s resolution: I swear that by the end of this year, things would be different. I will let myself show again. I will be back with my friends and brother whom I miss so much.

Not a day goes by without me wondering how things might have been. If I had just said something or tried to be there for them more. I don’t know, so much time has past, is it even too late?

Seeing them all at Stephen’s wedding just brought it more into focus I guess.

Benny had not spoken to his younger brother in about 7 years. Mikey had not seen Benny’s children in person even, until the wedding. His friends he had not seen for around 4-5 years. He told me it had everything to do with his religious faith.

I find myself thinking about Dey more and more. Why can’t I get her out of my head? She’s everything that Bekka is not. She’s sure of herself. Happy all the time. When I see her, she just lights up the room.

Another time or place and I’d be all over her. But that cannot be, I’m married. She’s getting married later this year.

Even if I were to make a sudden change, it would be too late for us. Wouldn’t it?

******

I found this entry a few pages over. You can almost see the exact moment the slide begins.

Nightmares are supposed to be scary. For some reason, this reoccurring dream I keep having does not scare me. It’s me walking through our house in the dark. It’s very quiet, no sound at all really. Now it’s not me I see exactly, but more like the first-person perspective you get from those games where you walk around killing zombies or bats or something. So I’m watching me move like I watch a movie play out. No control over the events, just fixation on the entire event.

I’m standing in the hallway outside my son’s, Quinten, room. His fan lights that are usually on and casting multicolored shadows across the room are off. The fan is off. He’s pressed himself up against the wall to sleep. Holding his pillow to his chest like a teddy bear. He’s so peaceful. It’s all very serene.

I start to go into his room, but I hesitate. Instead I just close his door gently so as to not make a sound. I don’t want to wake him up. At least not yet. I notice that I’m holding something.

Sometimes it’s a knife.
Other times it’s a bat.
A hockey stick.
A racquetball racket.
Paintball marker.
Old-school wood saw.

This time it appears to be a turkey baster. I walk down the hall to the other end where our bedroom is. I open the door, slowly. Our kitten comes sprinting out almost scaring the shit out of me. You ever see a cat eyes in the dark? Pure evil.

I make my way over to the other side of the bed where Bekka is sleeping. Everyone looks at peace when they are asleep and she’s no exception.

She rolls over onto her back from her side. One arm flops over to where I would be. She does that sleepy wavy thing you do when you know someone should be next to you. As she opens her eyes to look where I’ve gone, the person who I see as me pounces.

Within an instant I jam the baster into one eye. I shove that little mother fucker up into her head as if I’m trying to make it come out the other side. She lifts up off the bed, screaming silently. The sound she makes, its cutoff even before it begins due to the total shock of the pain. I squeeze the end of the baster and it immediately fills with blood, bits of her used to be hazel eye and other soft tissue. Her whole body goes limp and I let it drop back onto the bed.

I hear the bedroom door squeak open slowly and it’s Quinten. He woke up because he thought he heard something. From the bed I tell him that everything is ok, and to go back to sleep. He wants to sleep with us. I ask him gently to be a big boy and go back to his own bed. I even watch myself go and tuck him in.

The next flash of this vision is my reaction to the phone call I get at work when the authorities tell me what they’ve found in the house.

Now, I’m not a big woo-woo guy, but the fact that I have this dream almost nightly.....each time with a similar ending, this has to mean something? Right?!?

I cannot imagine actually doing these things to my family. But I’ve been solemn and depressed for so long that I wonder if this is what my balloon is trying to tell me.

FIVE

Benny and Dey had had enough conversations to know that if they had met under different circumstances, they could be together. For Benny that meant that if he could make the circumstances different, then they would be together.

One night after work, they were talking and realized that there was much more between them than just a friendship. They both agreed that they had to figure out what was so wrong with their respective relationships that they would go from being seemingly happy and content to wanting to chuck all that away to be with each other.

Human emotion is never an easy thing to explain. Dey went home to try to fix her life there. Benny took a more direct approach.

Another entry in Benny’s journal was this letter he wrote to Dey. It was never given to her.

“Dey,

I got your message this morning. You just missed me but I guess that was the point. I’ve had some things to say but could never seem to find the right time or words.

First, I’d like to say that we can’t keep saying ‘sorry’. I do not apologize for my feelings or actions towards you. The results haven’t always been perfect, but that’s life right? I want so very much to talk to you. It’s hard to sometimes with work and circumstances constantly getting in the way.

Secondly, never say never. Never is a long long time. Never means not ever, under any circumstance. I do not feel that way. I believe in my bones that there are ways in which we could be together. And as much more than just friends. It’s a ways away right now, but the possibility certainly exists. I care about you so much. Every night I wonder if that night at the beach is all we’ll ever have. I don’t like thinking like that. I want more. But to get there, things must be made right first. If you decide to stay with him, than it should be with a clean slate. Don’t let a thing like this fester between you.

I would love nothing more than to have Bekka and Carlos dealt with and out of the picture. No longer a factor to us. Then we could see where our journey together takes us.

That may yet happen. Will you be ready?”

******

Dey ultimately decided that she wanted to stay in her relationship with her fiancé. Give it one more chance. He had noticed a change in her and they were finally able to talk. She kept telling Benny that they must have been brought together for a reason and that he needed to find out what it was for him. She also told him that in order to be honest with Carlos, she would not be talking to Benny as much anymore.

I talked to Benny shortly after this all had happened. At this point he had left his wife, moved in with his brother, and had almost lost his job due to being so distracted by this whole situation.

We talked about putting together his divorce paperwork so he could move on.

Apparently Benny had other ideas still.

SIX

They found her on their bed, just like in his dream. Bekka had a soup ladle sticking out of her mouth. All you could see in the crime scene picture was the tip of the handle; the rest had been shoved into her mouth and down her throat. The bed was soaked in blood and other bodily fluids.

Quinten had found the body that morning and ran out to the road screaming for someone to stop. Paige, his little sister, just kept trying to tell mommy that she was bleeding. The police did all they could, but those kids will never be the same. I arranged for them to go stay with Bekka’s parents until we could figure out what to do next.

No one could find Benny.

The neighbors said he always seemed quiet and really nice.

******

The call came just after the salad course at the “More BUSH/2008” dinner. I’m not real political, but these things are great for getting contacts.

I remember that he was very calm. Since we had privilege he told me what happened. I’ll give him this; he can be very detailed when he wants to be. I had a hard time eating the escargot later that night.

Benny was to turn himself in the next evening. We were going to meet, and then I would take him to the precinct so they could process him and take his confession. But something wasn’t right in my head. Like a mental itch. You know something but can’t remember quite what. On the way home from the dinner, I stopped by my office to check my calendar. There I found what I was looking for.

The next day was Dey’s wedding.

SEVEN

At the church, the police had taken positions outside, checking each guest as they entered. They had snipers across the street, flanking the building. No one wanted to have to shoot Benny, but they also weren’t sure what would happen inside either.

Benny managed to get inside anyway. From what I know, he had gone to the church the night before, seeking asylum. Father McIntire explained to Benny they don’t really do that, only in the movies. After confession, the Father allowed Benny to stay the night, assuming he was turning himself in the next day.

The ceremony was ready to start and everyone, myself, the detective, the priest, not to mention Carlos and especially Dey was on edge.

The bridesmaids walked out, followed by the maid of honor. The cute little flower girl got about half way down the aisle and in typical flower girl fashion, threw a fit. Little petals went flying everywhere. Given the circumstances, a few of us snapped to attention at her shouts and screams.

Dey, like most brides do, looked absolutely beautiful in her white dress. I have to admit, Benny did have good taste in women.

I noticed that she took an abnormally long look at one of the guests near the back.

The detective and I made our way around the room, up on the balcony level, to get a better look. Now I’ve known Benny a long time, and I didn’t recognize him right away. He had grown what he could of a beard. Colored his hair a bit lighter. Instead of his normal glasses, he had chosen to wear some colored contacts, blood red.

So as to not make a scene, we alerted the officers surrounding the church and everyone took positions. The best man was taken to the side and told what the status was. It was his desire, along with both families, to let the ceremony take place, then we could grab Benny. Against our better judgment, we agreed.

The room got very tense once the vows started. We all assumed if he was going to do anything, he would be cliché and wait for the “speak now” portion of the program.

Benny had other plans as we all soon found out.

They had said their “I do’s” and had turned to face the gathering. Before the priest could get another word out, Benny broke for the front.

I don’t know where he got the gun from, but once that made its appearance, the mood quickly changed. Benny stood in front of Dey and Carlos, gun pointed square at the grooms temple.

She cried “What are you doing? This isn’t going to help you.” Benny told her it wasn’t too late, they could still be together. All she had to do was tell Carlos the truth, the let Carlos decide the next move.

“The truth about what? That you killed your wife and now want to take mine?” Carlos said, trying not to piss Benny off. Very calmly Benny explained to Carlos that was not what he was referring to.

“Baby, just tell me whatever it is he wants you to say, then he’ll leave and never bother us again, right?”

If that’s what you want Carlos, yes.
“Carlos, you don’t understand. He didn’t do those things!”
Tell him how you know that, honey.

Carlos looked at Benny through the corner of his eye.
“Honey?!? Boy if you didn’t have that piece…”
Yeah that’s the point bucko. This is the ultimate truth serum. Go ahead Dey, tell him. Or say goodbye, either way everything is changed now.

“Benny did not kill his wife. I know this all looks bad right now, but damn it Benny, the truth is on your side!” Benny pressed the nozzle deeper into Carlos and shot that “get on with it” look to her.

“He couldn’t have done it, he wasn’t there that night. He was with me. I just wanted to talk to him, try to help him to see that we couldn’t be. To see that I love you, Carlos.

“Fuck you Benny. Fuck you. God damn, what do you expect to get out of this? I don’t know what or how it happened, baby I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I know it was wrong, but I didn’t think you’d forgive me…..”

“Is she saying what I think she’s saying?” Carlos was starting to get it.

If you think she’s saying that we fucked, then yeah! Let me be the first to say, you are a lucky man. To hit that every night! Damn. Ok, so now that you know…….whatcha gonna do big man?

Carlos just stood there in stunned silence.

Ok then, Father, you may finish now.
“Man and wife. You may kiss the bride?”

Benny began to lower the gun about the same time as the detective and the best man jumped on him. Nobody moved when the gun went off.

Not quite 99 red balloons

2004-11-01T17:12:00.000-05:00

Picture a balloon.

It's leaking air.

You can tell looking at it, as the balloon slowly deflates, that something is wrong. Outwardly, upon closer examination, it cannot be determined as to what is causing this sudden yet slow change. As the built up pressure inside continues to escape to it's freedom, you start agitating the surface of the balloon. Pulling and prodding, trying to find the problem, all the while hoping you can somehow fix this balloon from deflating any further. You move your hands around, feeling, listening too. Trying to find the slight breeze of air being liberated.

The balloon itself is intact. You finally notice that it's the knot at the end that is lose, allowing the air pressure to drop. Over the time of this balloon being constantly pressurized, the knot which had been holding it all together, has started to give way.

What to do? If you pull the knot tight again, the balloon will be less than it was.

You can't just untie it either, can you?

You do and all the frustrated volume inside comes rushing out in a blast. The balloon slips from your fingers and erratically floats throughout, coming to rest in front of you once again.

You re-inflate this slightly weakened balloon, careful not to over do it. New air, new balance reigning inside. It's new limits hold and it again floats, content in it's simple existence.

You've allowed this new subconscious balloon to be reinvented inside you. You, having gone through this change, this alteration, now realize what you cannot simply let things build inside again.

The risk of a burst is just too great.

Mixed Rewards

2004-11-01T13:13:00.000-05:00

There were many many nights that I would stay at the office late. I always had work to do, but that wasn’t the reason for being there. I would surf around and look busy; I’ve always been good at that. I can shuffle papers around and justify about anything in the name of work. No I would stay as an alternative to leaving. Better to me miserable where I’ll get paid for it than to go home and be miserable for free. Besides, if I’m not home then we can’t argue. And that later it is that I got home, the less time there would be to discuss anything. Problems, issues that need to be talked about would not be. Left for another time. Procrastinated to the point where they would seemingly be forgotten. Hindsight tells me that never were they forgotten. Filed away for future use, but not forgotten. The fact that we never attempted to correct whatever the problem was, also another problem. Ultimately that became the problem to define all other problems. Communication. Or rather lack of. If it ain't broke, don’t try to fix it. But if you don’t know it ain’t broke, then how can you fix it. There are no idiot lights in life. No 3000 mile oil changes, no scheduled maintenance. You cannot rotate the tires.

Like all things in life, there of course is an irony to all this. My staying at the office more and more often, had the exact effect I thought it would. It contributed in its own way to us just moving farther and farther apart in our ideals. Here we are, supposedly happy, and neither of us really are. On the outside looking in we’re the perfect example of a statistical family. Just no white picket fence. My hard work and dedication paid off emensely professionally. I have learned so much and had the chance to do things that otherwise I would not have. Exposre to others within the company had brought respect unknown to me before. I was no longer the little kid brother or son replacement that knew some stuff, but screwed up now and then. Now I was becoming a fixture, someone counted on to make or at least help in making the decisions that would impact for years to come. Hell, they even gave me an award. How bout that. I spend time avoiding home, and they reward me for it.

To fight or not to fight

2004-10-29T15:17:00.000-05:00

When I say that we had problems, I don't mean to make them sound any more glorious than anybody else's. Almost every couple, married or otherwise, has the same type of problems crop up at some point in their relationship. The difference between one couple and another is all in how they deal with those problems. The good book says "Don't go to bed with conflict unresolved." Good advice in principle. Being egotistical humans, of course, we try our own ways with many varied results.

When we had problems or issues or just minor differences of opinion, we did not actually ever resolve the problem. It started all very innocently. While dating, if there was a disagreement over what to have for dinner or what movie to see, one of us would compromise and go along with the other. In reality we gave in. So proud of the fact that we never fought, we never fought. Avoiding that first fight became the goal of any and every confrontation. Thus the groundwork was layed. This is not always a bad thing. Compromise is part of every relationship. Taking turns lying down is not.

A friend told me, before we got married, that we would fight about money more than anything else. Since we didn't have any, I didn't think that would be a problem for us. Ah, the ignorance of youth. You're so invincible. Delusional really.

whether you have money or not does not predicate the fight. Lack of or a surplus of money will cause fights. In truth the fight is really normally about what to do with it. Pay the bills, buy stuff for your apartment or house. Save. Disappear for a weekend. A week. Buy clothes. That new purse or the dress she'll need for some event that has yet to be planned. That new game or gadget you wanted. A new TV.

Pick your battles. I would tell myself that. Nothing really seemed to matter at the time to be worth fighting over.

Slowly that changes. She thought I never cared. I would simply leave it to her to make the decisions. She would still ask, but only out of obligation. After a while even that stopped. We're not talking about what to have for dinner here. Let me try to be clear. I would come home, and be told we were getting a new car, or furniture, or going to spend the weekend painting, or something. None of this is bad in of itself. The total lack of communication made this mountains. by the time I would have a chance to think about it, it seemed to me to no longer matter what I thought. Good idea or bad, any input was unneeded, unwanted input.

So we swing to the other extreme, where now I supposedly make the decisions. But everything is so different that I have to ask questions. After a few rounds of that, we're both frustrated, again. Just let me do it then, she'd say.

Fine.

See, another conflict resolved.

And we didn't have to fight about it.

Wonderful, just fucking perfect.

Let's see where this leads, shall we?

2004-10-28T11:48:00.000-05:00

"You have a problem." Not we. Me. Sometimes my father-in-law could be very direct. It turned out that lovey had advanced herself a few too many paychecks in the last year. Now, being a family business, this was not uncommon. Many times in the past, when certain weeks were gonna be tight, they would let her take a check early. No sweat. And we always made them up later. Or at least so I thought. "She has taken about $6000 in checks without our knowledge." Wow. Daaaammmn. Now I'm doing a quick inventory of the house and I can't for the life of me think of where six G's are hiding. Even I cant eat that much. Any other job, this embezzlement would be clear. Not here. Of course they'll be removing her from the books as a signor. Or course, they have already figured out a way that we can make it look proper for their accountant. Of course, there is a solution. It's that gift that keeps on giving. Guilt. So now, whenever we are able, we are to pay them back. I got no problem with that. Being reminded time and again, even after the debt is paid, I DO got a problem with that.

But this was only another example.

Around this same time, I was stuck in a job that, due to some major reorganization, left me with few options for advancement opportunity. Being 25, that was not something that I wanted to have happen. On the homefront, we had been having "out in the open" issues. We weren't happy, couldn't finger why. But that wasn't a reason. Just life's stresses getting to us right? Our son was about 3, no 4. Almost 4. Time for another kid? Let's get through this year, and see where we are financially and otherwise for that matter. It's summer. Ok she says. Makes sense not to add to all this. About few months later, she calls me at work. I finally got the job I had been wanting. Interview 5 times for it. She tells me, we need to talk later. She's really upset on the phone. I ask her what's wrong. Later. So I get home that night, and she tells me that she's pregnant. SURPRISE! Missed a pill here and there, didn't think much of it at the time. But she's about 2-3 months along. The next day the doctor confirms, April, and it's a girl. The flood of mixed emotion runs through me. A girl! Perfect, now we got that matched set everyone dreams about. Pregnant! We can barely afford what we have now. This means we gotta get a house to fit us, a car to fit us and so on. About 1-2 weeks later, the news about the money breaks into my life.

Suicide is not the feeling, but it's the first thing that comes to mind.

I did not know this before, but I have a twitch in my eye. Right then, I noticed it for the first time.

So, I get a whole six months to prepare myself to be a father, again. Two children will be much more work. I know this being the oldest of four. She, I don't know if she knew it then or not. In the meantime, just to add to the fun, let's have her leave the family business to work for someone else, for less. Now, I had wanted her to quit looong ago. But this was not the time. If there was ever a time to stay, it was then. The money was needed, badly. Not to mention that because it's their grandchildren, the same perks were there as with the first born. But no. Our daughter is born. Beautiful. A surprise to be sure, but the kind you didn't know you wanted until you get it. A constant reminder too. And that's not fair to her. To represent one of the most perfect things in your life and also be the symbol for so much that is wrong. It's not fair.