Mr. Barren & Me

Spring/Summer 2009





From one of my living room windows I could see Mr. Barren as he wept on Thursday afternoons in his kitchen. Like clockwork. By the third Thursday I began to bring a glass of Sherry and a plate of crackers with me to the table as I would sit and watch. Yeah, I know. It was a bit intrusive but I simply found it intriguing. See, I’ve known Barren for almost ten years. We've had all the neighborly battles that neighbors could have such as fence issues, dog complaints and I had neighbor sex with his daughter when she was still living with her parents back in the nineties. The Good Years. And those bad times between him and me passed. We had, especially in the last half of a decade, gotten along pretty well. When he broke his leg last August I mowed his lawns for two months straight and trimmed the hedges-twice. He didn’t show a lot of appreciation but I wasn’t looking for it so I don’t mind. Much. I guess I’m saying all this because I want to portray myself as a good courteous neighbor which I feel I am. A little bit of spying won’t destroy my rep, at least I hope not. And it was good, clean Columbo work too. Nothing sexual or malicious.
To be honest I was a little worried about the guy. By week three, the tears weren’t letting up and alcohol was now involved; Barren sullenly trudging a six pack of Coors to the coffee table and walking only one beer back to the fridge an hour later. Yeah, exactly; Boozehound! He always drank but now the crying? Jeez! But I ain’t one to judge. I just watch. Of course my one Sherry lasted the full hour yet I can be a slow drinker. I’ll admit. I like to take my time. Kind of like when I entertain female companions; gingerly and with interest. But I digress. After week five of looking after Barren, by now I considered myself a type of protector of the man, I decided that I had to talk to Elizabeth about her father’s crying fits. I didn’t anticipate it being an easy thing to do since she could respond in a variety of ways such as

“This is none of your business! Fuck off!”

Or

“Why have you been watching my father for five weeks in a row? Fuck off!”

Or

“Is this just another one of your lame attempts at getting us back together? Bruno, it was seven years ago! Get over it! And Fuck off!”

Despite all of the adversity I possibly faced, I decided that for the sake of Barren’s mental state it would have to be done. On a Wednesday afternoon I rode my bicycle down to Elizabeth’s work since my car had been in the shop for the last couple of months. After being without an automobile for so long I had decided that I would probably be fine without one. I mean it’s not the most alluring thing to ask a woman out on a date on one’s bicycle but I haven’t tried it yet and I think it may work as long as I provide her with a helmet.
Blowing past traffic as usual, I made it down to Elizabeth’s work in less than eight minutes. From my house to her work it was mostly down hill yet there were a few climbs that made it more difficult. So I was tad bit sweaty as I skidded up to the Jankins building in the business district downtown yet I felt confident. Skirting by security, I made it into the elevator without questions this time. Up on the fourteenth floor, Elizabeth had one of the best offices in her law firm. It was a pretty amazing feat considering she was just thirty one years old and had been with Goldman & Schaeffer for only four years. Yet she was a real trooper, always down for a fight and according to Mrs. Barren, before she passed away from the breast cancer two years ago, Elizabeth had become a hero in the Hispanic community. One of her first cases was leveled against an employer who had been hiring illegal immigrants specifically with families and then black mailing them with low wages lest he notify immigration. Needless to say the firm appreciated her tremendous work ethic and granted her an awesome office to show their appreciation. And what about an offer to be partner? Well, that would have to wait.
I now watched Elizabeth gaze out her window at the other giant structures which surrounded the Jankins building. She looked so pretty dressed up in her power suit that I had a hard time keeping myself from just waltzing in there and laying one on her. But I didn’t. I can resist. Sometimes. She eventually turned and eyed me eying her, which I think spooked her but it’s nothing she couldn’t handle.

“Bruno, how are you doing?”

I was momentarily stunned by her warm manner since I’m so used to snide remarks, fast doors slammed in my face or a blatant ignorance of my presence. I like to think that she was simply becoming gentler but then again she could have just been concerned with how she appeared at work. Then again, I don’t care too much because an Elizabeth Barren smile was worth a million bucks: fake or for real.

“I’m doing alright. You?”

She just nodded her head and I decided not to ask too much. I wanted her to know I was there for a reason.

“Listen, I’m sorry for barging in on you like this but I was wondering if I can talk to you about something? Either now or whenever is good for you. I’m pretty open today.”

She gave me a slow smile and a look of mischief which brought me back to our old days. I was surprised but I tried not to show it because I wanted her to think I was serious. I mean, I was serious. I was concerned about old man Barren. Every Thursday at six o’clock? Weirdo! Something was up.

“I’m actually gonna take a quick lunch break. You want to join me?”

It was 3:30 in the afternoon but I always heard lawyers had strange hours. We headed down the elevator and passed the security guard who possessed a limp and paunch. He squinted at me maliciously then quickly smiled at Elizabeth. I laughed. Loud enough for him to hear me. Elizabeth turned to look at me so I started talking.

“Where do you go to eat?”
“Across the street at that sandwich shop.”

In between bites of our pesto chicken sandwiches, her recommendation, we chit chatted about the past until she asked why I had come to see her.

“OK, I know this may sound strange but bear with me.”

Before I could continue, her eyes widened a bit and I got a little scared. She can be intimidating. I’m telling you! 5’1 packed in a petite frame with golden curls, Elizabeth was an M-80 wrapped in a BlackCat. And I love everything about her, too! Well, maybe not the mean things. Such as her ability to just drop somebody off on a desolate road in the middle of the night because of an argument. But it did display her ferocity. I worried about that very ferocity before I continued yet Mama didn’t raise no Pansy.

“It’s about your dad. As you probably know I gotta clear view of your kitchen through my living room window…”

This was most likely not the best way to start the conversation but I didn’t know how else to do it so I just dived head first. Into a dry pool. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and that cute face instantly morphed into Medusas. Yet I forged ahead. Carefully.

“Look I didn’t create the house! My living room provides a perfect view in to your folk’s house, specifically their kitchen…”

I could tell that I was becoming defensive and I didn’t like acting that way. Neither did Elizabeth. So I just came out with it, stumbling and nervous yet nevertheless forward.

“So while I was there, the first time…”

-Ah, shit there I go!

“… I noticed that you’re father was upset. He was sitting down in a chair; crying. And… um… he’s been doing this for the past five weeks and I just don’t think it’s normal. Sorry, Elizabeth, but I think something’s wrong with your dad.”

She just stared at me. The conversation could go in a variety of ways and I wasn’t surprised if it was heading in a bad direction. I braced myself for it by digging my shoes into the hardwood floor.

“I think it’s kind of weird that you’ve been spying on my dad, Bruno. What are you doing? Sitting there watching him?”

Lying. Lying is a very complicated thing. Lies, fibs, white lies and everything else that falls under the banner of not being truthful is a very tricky and sticky thing to navigate through. So I just lie head on, right into the beast.

“No, no, I noticed it the first time and then I accidentally noticed it the second time. But after I noticed it the second time I got a little worried for your pops so I decided to check again, which was the third time and he’s been doing it ever since. Liz, it’s not like I’ve been sitting there and watching him for hours on end with a glass of whiskey!”

-Yes Liz, give me more credit. It’s been a glass of Sherry and only for one hour, not several.

Again she just stared at me for what seemed like forever. She knew I was lying. To be honest I’m a horrible liar. No, really, I’m being honest this time. I’m terrible but I try. I give it my best.

“Well, whatever. I think it’s strange that you’ve noticed this but I’m glad that you told me. Every time I go to see him, he says he’s fine. Maybe it’s my mom. I mean it’s only been two years.”

To this day I’m not sure why I felt this way but I just had a good feeling that it had nothing to do with Cheryl. And I had to share my thought.

“I don’t mean to be rude because I know your dad loved your mom but I don’t think that’s it. He just seems saddened by something else. These tears, Liz, they are for real!”

Once again my big mouth and emotion got in the way. I kept my gaze on Elizabeth while her emerald eyes beamed me with one thousand questions; all of them bad! I decided to keep my mouth closed as often as possible from here on out regarding Mr. Barren.

“Um, OK. What do you think it is then? You’ve been watching him after all.”

Her eyes challenged me sharply. I felt so weak underneath that stare that I just lowered my head. But then I realized that she was asking for my opinion. She was asking for my help! Now, this changed everything.

-Don’t screw it up, Mr. Bruno Cordova!

“I don’t know Liz. I didn’t mean to cut down your idea about your mom but she doesn’t fit. What about you guys? How are you doing with him?”

She shrugged with so little emotion that I knew something was wrong.

“I can’t let that pass Liz. Something’s up, huh?”
”That’s the problem, Bruno. Nothing’s up! My dad and I don’t talk too much anymore. Ever since my mom passed its been hard on us both. I was ... I hoped it would bring us together but it doesn’t seem that way. Do you ever talk to him?”
”Here and there but not often.”
I tried to avoid him actually. I had nothing against Mr. Barren but he was boring. We had nothing in common except for a love for Elizabeth. Yes. I loved her. Still do. And it’s true that she is mean. Mean like a rattler but that bite is deep, man. Just like rattlers. Once you’ve been bit, you’re done. I knew this as I continued to look at Elizabeth. My attention was averted while I fought and beat her to the bill.

“I got it, Liz. Thanks for inviting me. I miss… this.”
“Yeah it’s been awhile.”
“Um… I’ll let you know if I notice anything else with your dad.”
“OK, I appreciate that Bruno.”

Now out on the street, a small breeze came up and blew one of her locks across her face. I couldn’t resist. I’m weak. I drew the hair from her face and much to my surprise she just grinned. I thought that I was going to take a slap or at least receive a creeped out look for sure but No. I was shocked! Happy but shocked!

“How am I gonna let you know about your dad if something comes up? I’m gonna need you number.”

It was straight forward and to the point. Sure a little lame but once again, to my surprise, it worked. Maybe she was just getting older and was getting desperate. I know that it happens. Once thirty hits, women become awfully aware of that biological clock. TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK!!! That bastard beats faster than a RiverDance performer on Meth! But I’ll take it. For Mother Nature can be a man’s best friend.
As I made my way home, I decided to stop off at Rubies for a drink. I locked my bike on one of the many poles the city provided upon the sidewalk. No sooner had I clasped the lock shut that did I see Mr. Barren stumble out of the bar. Surprise, surprise! Someone’s been hitting the sauce- Again!

“Hey, Barren!”

Seeing that he was hammered, I thought I would address him casually. It’s true that I was taking advantage of the situation. Sue me! I did go out of my way to tell his daughter about his breakdowns, right? I got some heart. Anyways. He spun around and turned to me faster than I thought he could. He was crouched low like a tiger and for a second I thought he might try and attack me. I’d be lying if I said a medium size part of me didn’t want him to either. For years I’ve held a little bit of a grudge on Barren. Eight years back he beat me at a basketball game in front of Elizabeth and Mrs. Barren. I still can’t rid the bitterness from my breath!

-Beat me at a kid’s game, Barren? Let’s see how you do in a man’s world!

Just as I started to get into my Muay Thai fighting stance and Barren got in an old Greco Roman wrestling position, the door to Rubies swung open. Rock n Roll music blared from inside the bar. As if the tunes were pronouncing his arrival, this small little man in his mid to late thirties came striding out of the bar like a peacock. He was sporting one of those pointy little goatees, he was dressed like a metro sexual and his hair was made into one of those poor excuses for a mo-hawk. You know the kind; where it’s only about two inches high, not shaven on the sides and the actual hawk is more like a wave than a lethal weapon. Everyone knows real Mohawks were intended for battle! Look who wore them; the Iroquois and Travis Bickle! I need say no more.


“Oh Bernard, Bernard! You forgot your script, honey! Remember practice makes perfect. And don’t be afraid to bear it all. Bye!”

The man handed Bernard Barren a script of “A Streetcar Named Desire” and then turned to me, doing a quick look me over. I was dressed in my usual attire of Dickies shorts, T-shirt and old school Adidas. I’m not a fashion king to say the least and I could tell that the queen wasn’t impressed. But I am ripped and I did notice him checking out my body which made me feel a bit like a hunted animal that is killed for its fur; scared yet tragically flattered all at the same time. Before I could cower away from his creepy stare, the goat turned around and headed back from the hole he descended. Barren and I just gawked at each other; both of us unsure what the hell to do. Maybe Barren had more guts than I give him credit for because he stepped up first. He extended one of his old thick fingers directly at my chest and started off in a slow easy drawl.

“Pay attention here, Cordova. If you tell anyone on the block about this, it’s curtains for you!”
“Big talk for a man who was just hanging out with an anorexic Rock Hudson!”

That did it! Back into the Greco-Roman position he went and me into my relaxed and prepared Muay Thai stance. We eyed each other for a few seconds before I suddenly got this tremendous feeling of embarrassment within my being. I mean, Barren is like one hundred! No, no, I’m just joking he is only in his mid sixties but it wouldn’t be fair and I love Elizabeth. I really do. If I hurt him I would only be hurting her which is the last thing on my agenda. So I backed off.

“Alright, Mr. Barren. I won’t say a peep. Scouts Honor.”
“Scouts ain’t got no honor. That’s why their boy scouts! Pussies!”

I told you he was difficult.

“Fair enough. I give you my word which is worth something.”

He looked at me cockeyed. Barren knew that I was serious so he didn’t try any more wisecracks but just stuck his hand out. To be honest, at that moment I hadn’t put it all together yet, though I was on my way. The crying, A Streetcar Named Desire and the scrawny guy who must have been a theatre coach or something. I’m not the brightest bulb but I can connect the dots.

“Are you… are you acting? Doing plays or something?”

Barren stole a glance at a woman passing by and smiled to her kindly. I instantly recognized Elizabeth within that look; the ability to morph from kind to sinister or vice versa in a millisecond was alive and well in the Barrens.

“I’m telling you, Cordova!”
“Calm down! My word is my word. I’m just curious. Is that what that guy was talking to you about?”

Barren’s attention was completely on me now. His countenance softened a little, just a little, and he looked into my eyes.

“Yeah, I’m doing it through the Retirement Center. It’s been a hobby I’ve picked up on the side. No one knows about it. No one. And I want to keep it that way.”

I like challenges.

“You know, Elizabeth might want to check you out when you’re ready to perform.”

This was dangerous ground. I know it. First off this is Barren. He’s not some ultimate Bad-Ass or anything but he did serve in the military during 'Nam and he doesn’t take people’s shit. He is his own man. I’ll give him that one for sure. Second, I was talking about his family now. And though I’m pretty sure he knows that I care for Elizabeth, she is still his daughter. His only daughter. I treaded carefully. His eyes grew large and before he could snap I tried again.

“Or not, or not!!! I just think that she would really love to know you’re doing something productive like this. Plus, you would really knock the socks off her! I assume you’re playing Stanley, right?”

He nodded his head. I couldn’t help but laugh. And I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop and I didn’t give a shit if he socked me right there. But there’s something about energy, man. Energy and your intentions. We can feel them. Sometimes. And old man Barren knew that my intentions were good. I wasn’t laughing at him. I was laughing with him. And within a few seconds he was chuckling too.
I called Elizabeth later on that night and told her about her dad. Yeah, I know I made a promise but Elizabeth needed to know. She was worried sick by now about her dad and she was the only one who had to be aware. Her nerves and stress level were more important than the old man’s ego, anyways. Barren had not agreed to tell Elizabeth about the play but since it was two weeks off I knew that there was a good chance he would eventually invite her. Me too. I told him that I wanted to go. As I talked to Elizabeth, I let her know how I put all the clues together.

“I gotta say I’m really relieved your dad was only crying for practice. See, if he had just yelled Stella once I would have understood.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think he wants the neighborhood to know, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Trust me, I know. So, I got a good feeling your dad is going to invite you to the show. You’re gonna need a date. And it just so happens that I know someone perfect for you.”
“Oh yeah. You’re not thinking about yourself are you?”
“Who? Me? Nah, nah. I was actually thinking about your father’s drama teacher. I’m sure he could use a date and he’s not that bad of a catch. You want me to put in a good word for you?”

Elizabeth laughed. It was a good, strong yet delicate laugh that made me happy I could hear. I knew she would go to the play with me and she did. But I didn’t ask right then. In between that space of time when all to be heard is the breath, I decided to savor that moment for they don’t come every day.


The End

Marriage Is A Beauty

For my friend, Dave

Samuel could not take his eyes from the yellow roses' petals. For the moment, he desired distraction. Placing a large wad of Levi Garrett into his jaw, he began to hum an old melancholy tune he learned from his father. As the lyrics came to mind he sang out in a low halting voice, black with sorrow and red with anger;
She saw me sitting out there alone
“Told you that life is on loan!”
Now with a Mason’s tool
I try to sew a heart of shattered stone

From his balcony window, Samuel watched the workers move like 3 foot tall ants as they ran here and there. Although the wedding didn’t to take place until the following evening, an occasion of this magnitude needed extra help and time. From the way it was appearing, Samuel put the count at 350. A soft but firm knock at the door broke him from his gaze.

“Just a minute!”

Samuel snatched a bottle of Banaca from the bathroom and sprayed his mouth numerous times before swinging the door open. Leaning on one hip, a green dress tightly clinging to all her assets, and giving Samuel a look that said he better have stretched, Cindy seductively touched his chest and said

“Are you Warren?”
“Yes I am. And you must be Cindy. Come in.”

Wanting to go out strong in every way he could, Samuel opted for a wild night.

-And why not start at 4:45 in the afternoon, he thought to himself.

With a desire to see her rear end, Samuel allowed Cindy to walk in front of him. She glided over to the mini bar and wrapped her hand around a bottle of vodka and stroked it...

“What would you like to drink darling?”
“I don’t drink while I work, Warren.”
“That’s cool but I do. Would you mind pouring me a tall one?”

Slipping the cap off, Cindy allowed the bottle’s contents to gallop into the glass. She walked over to him, placed the drink in his hand and began to strip. By the time she was bare, Samuel had downed his vodka and appeared shirtless. He stared at her for a few seconds while she relaxingly smiled.
Cindy hated her work. Yet she was often able to separate the Jon from the work itself. Especially if he was kind yet this wasn’t always the case. There were aspects of the job that pleased her and guys like Samuel could make it a little easier to perform. So when she smiled at Samuel, it was genuine. As they came together Samuel slid his hands up and down the small of her back, kissing her body tenderly until he carried her to the bed.
Fifteen minutes later Cindy drew a lingering drag from her cigarette. She looked to Samuel and offered with her eyes. Taking the cig from her with his lips, Samuel drew a short smoke but held onto the cigarette.

“That was really good, I have to say.”

With a steady caress placed on her thigh Samuel was truly pleased to hear her pay him a compliment. And he believed her.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Well, I better be good, honey. It's my job.”

They both laughed. Seeing all the wedding fuss around the hotel, Cindy looked to get the skinny.
“So do you know the bride and groom personally?”
Samuel thought about the question and smirked. He felt that he might be giving off a snide air so he backed off with a grin. Images of Clarissa’s naked ivory skin, with all the curves and dips that a woman’s body needs to make it perfect, hurried into his mind.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know them pretty well. Why do you keep doing this work?”

Caught off guard more by the speed in which he changed the subject of the conversation than the question itself, Cindy affectionately took back the cigarette. She thought about his question while she scratched her thigh, which Samuel couldn’t keep his mitts off. Of the two answers she had, since this was a question she received constantly, Cindy decided to give him the easy one.
“Money.”
“Hell, there are plenty of other ways to make money. You’re not stupid either so what gives?”
“How do you know I’m not stupid? We just met within the hour and half of it was spent fucking.”

Cindy followed this with a laugh and giggle that seemed appropriate for a solid retort. Samuel gazed at her and thought that he should be careful. Sassy, sexy and smart was a lethal combo and as it lay embodied next to him, Samuel reminded himself that he had a duty to perform the next day.
“By that answer alone, babe. By that alone.”
Now it was Cindy’s turn to become scared and she quietly looked straight ahead, pulling out another cigarette. She didn’t like to converse with her clients and if he hadn’t paid for the whole night she would have tried to just screw him until the time was up. But 22 hours of straight sex was reserved for porn stars and The Energizer Bunny and since she wasn’t a huge fan of adult film and her ears were less than two inches long, she had to find something to do in between that time. Perceptive as a FBI Profiler, Samuel decided it was time to use the bathroom. Coming back to bed with a glass of Diet Coke, he simply handed it to Cindy. When the fear of something spectacular is seconds away from happening and all you have to do is pull the trigger, many put the gun down or drop it. Then there are those who like to put the safety switch on and pull the trigger anyways just to try and fool themselves and everyone else around them. But guys like Samuel wise up, thank the Creator for the gift and pull the trigger, perfectly content. Looking at her in ease, Samuel took back her cigarette.

“Hey, it’s not such a bad thing to share something with someone.”

Reacting instantly, Cindy kissed him and then took back her cigarette. Samuel couldn’t help but stare at her and think that her bleached hair blended splendidly with the cigarettes cherry.

“In my line of work. sharing destroys you, from STD’s to emotions.”

Samuel needed some air. Crawling out of bed he put his pants on. Then he remembered that the rehearsal dinner was to take place soon.

“Listen I’m gonna be gone for a few hours. Feel free to anything you want or order anything you want.”

Unsure what protocol called for yet feeling like he had to say goodbye somehow, Samuel stood there and proceeded to wave to her in a schoolboy manner that made Cindy laugh in appreciation of his awkward effort. As he closed the door behind him, Cindy buried her head in the pillow and calmly said
“Oh, shit.”

Getting back around eight-thirty, Samuel wasn’t surprised to return to an empty room. He undressed, prepared for bed and began to read before being interrupted by a knock at the door. Recognizing the knock but unwilling to admit it for fear of only becoming disappointed if he was wrong, Samuel waited a few moments before opening. Cindy stood there with a sly smile on her face that said

“You’re not the only brave one.”

Taking her in his arms he didn’t let her go until midnight.

By the time the morning’s rays woke Samuel; Cindy had already dressed and ordered room service.

“Ten-thirty! Damn, I slept in!”

With a stop, mid-bite into her breakfast burrito, Cindy thought about his exclamation. Samuel clamored out of bed and it took a full two minutes before he realized that Cindy had been watching him the whole time. As he looked at her face which was pale and drawn, he thought that maybe she saw something incriminating.

“What… What’s up?”


By now the burrito was back in its wrapper and a coffee mug was placed in her small delicate fingers. He couldn’t help but look at them and think she should have a ring on her index finger.

“You’re the FUCKING groom!”

Not surprised by her zest but shocked by the accusation, Samuel couldn’t help but smile. Bad idea. Flinging her mug at him, Samuel ducked easily as it whizzed two feet past him.

“Whoh, whoh, whoh! Calm down, babe. I’m not the groom. I swear it!”
“Bullshit!!!”
“No, no bullshit! I’m really not the groom.”

At this point Samuel began to grow nervous. The stakes had just become terribly raised and he clenched his jaw tightly as the thought of being truthful came to mind. By now Cindy had gotten up and was getting dressed, wanting to get out of their so bad she was leaving her panties and bra behind. Suddenly stopping in her tracks, she turned back to him with such a look of sadness that Samuel felt more tied up than Houdini.
“What the hell am I doing? I can’t go anywhere. You own me for another six hours! OK, ok! You know what? I don’t even know why I care? This is what I was paid for anyways and believe me you are not the first guy to do this! So, sorry, sorry, sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Here, here I’ll suck your cock… come on… hold still! Come on baby; let me taste your cock!”
Grabbing her firmly by the shoulders, Samuel held her straight as she tried to unbutton his pants. Having enough of her outburst yet at the same time sympathizing with her, Samuel decided to come clean.

“Cindy, knock it off. I’m not the groom. I’m gonna let you go and then I want you to go open up that suitcase over there in the corner. OK?”

Surprised by his calm demeanor, Cindy stopped reaching for his crotch. Her breathing began to slow down but she never took her eyes off of Samuel. For a solid minute they stared at each other until she walked over to the suitcase and opened it.

“Holy shit!!!”

Cindy jumped back, letting the suitcase snap shut. Her eyes flew to Samuel who had already gone to the door to block her entrance.

“Like I said before, I’m not the groom. And I got no problem if you wanna get out of here after I tell you what’s going on. But let me explain first, please. May I?”

Cindy simply mouthed “OK” and took a seat at the head of the bed as Samuel offered it to her with his hand. The suitcase was light in his hands and as he plopped it back onto the bed Cindy watched him with deep apprehension. Opening it again, Cindy caught the sun’s reflection off of one of the contents as she stared at it wearily. While she continued to gawk at the rifle which was snugly sitting in its compartment, Samuel sat a few feet from her.

“I want to be totally honest with you. A part of me is saying I’m absolutely crazy for telling you this but another ageless side of me is saying I can, should and will trust you with my life. I’m not the fucking groom. I’m the guy who should have been the groom. The bride’s name is Clarissa and we were engaged to be married a year ago next month. The groom and my fiancée were screwing each other right up until two weeks before the wedding. I found out about it through a close friend and I broke it off. Man, this is crazy!”

Samuel was by now on his feet, pacing up and down the room’s floor as Cindy followed him with her eyes.

“So I ended up breaking off the engagement but I haven’t been able to get over the whole thing. They began dating right away and ever since I found out that they planned on getting married I figured on ending it.”

With these last words Samuel pointed to the suitcase. Inside was the rifle, a scope, a 9mm pistol and a hatchet. Cindy continued to stare at him.

“You mean… you actually plan on killing them? Both of them?”

Cindy had drawn her knees up to her chest and as Samuel looked at her he could not help being disappointed in himself for scaring her. He looked away without responding. Taking a chaw of Levi Garrett, Samuel walked out on the balcony and watched as all the workers swarmed around like bees. There was such madness and confusion in his heart that for a brief second he thought about leaping over.

“Sam? Samuel?”

Samuel turned back around to see Cindy holding his wallet. He didn’t even care about that now and as he explained he turned back around to watch down below.

“That’s all correct. My name is Sam. Or Samuel. Call me either one. I used the name Warren Collins instead in case someone from the wedding saw my real name in the hotel’s registry.”

Overwhelmed by everything she was being told and finding out for herself, Cindy sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t until then that she really took a look at Samuel physically. With his back still to her she observed that it was formed almost in a V-shape. Broad shouldered and with his shaved head pointed towards the bottom floors, Cindy felt extremely attracted to Samuel. Ambivalent emotions were brimming inside her at such a startling pace she became so befuddled that the only thing she wanted was to be filled by something not of her own creation. Off of the bed in a flash, she grabbed Samuel from the back and slammed him against the wall in the most delicate way she could.

“That’s one way of getting my attention.”

Unwilling to talk any more Cindy responded with silence and a passionate stare. Swallowing all the breath that poured from her including burrito, coffee, angst and purpose, Samuel held her at bay until he felt there was nowhere else to go but full speed into her. As they tumbled and crashed into furniture, walls and finally onto the bed they were somehow aware that they were perfectly synchronized for each other and the chaos of living. Literally tearing and pulling at each other’s clothes they collided into one another for what seemed like eternity but was no more than a few minutes. Breathless yet relaxed they lay in each others bodies.

“Sam? Are you really going to kill them?”

Samuel was enamored with the way she asked the question. It was as if there was no possibility that he could fail the mission, giving him the sense that he had total control and power over the situation. He felt that perhaps this woman had more faith in his strength than he did.

“I don’t know. Should I?”

Honored that he would ask for her opinion but unsure if she wanted to have that kind of power and pressure placed upon her, Cindy took a moment before answering.

“No. You shouldn’t Sam. Not only will you be killing yourself if you end their lives, but you’ll also be giving them more power wasting your life away in a prison cell. Or who knows, maybe you’ll die somehow in the process.”

“I’m not worried about dying.”

Although brash, there was certain finality in his voice that made her believe him.

“But I am.”

So soft and innocent was her response. Yet at that moment his anger, rage, self-hate began to dissipate and he felt his body ease. Though he never responded, Cindy saw the ghost leave his eyes and knew that for him it was done.

Samuel had planned on killing just Clarissa and her fiancé, Greg Yates, just as they said “I do.” He was to sniper them both and then try to make as clean a getaway as he could but if he whacked out some family members in the process he wasn’t too worried. And though he did like Clarissa’s parents he couldn’t worry about their feelings over their daughter. At least then he couldn’t. Now, half an hour later in the check out line of the hotel, with Cindy by his side in her skin tight dress, Samuel eyed Clarissa’s parents coming toward him.

“Well, all be damned. Diane, it looks like Harold was right. Samuel is here. Everyone thought Harold had been boozing too much when he said he saw you in the bushes last night at the rehearsal dinner. But I guess he was right, huh?”

Samuel blushed at the comment and looked at Cindy whose eyes grew in excitement and humor.

“Bushes? I was pretty drunk last night myself Mr. Towers so maybe. I don’t remember. Maybe I fell into them.”

They all laughed. After the cordialities and introductions and after chopping through the mass amount of awkwardness, Samuel and Cindy were invited to the wedding by Mr. Towers. Mrs. Towers gave her husband a scowling look but quickly tried to conceal her contempt with an awkward smile.

“No, thank you very much but we have to get going. We have a lot of traveling to do.”
“Oh, where are you going?”
“Well, I had a two week plan to run off to another country. First, a flight to Mexico and from there anywhere. I wanted to see how long it would take for people to find me. Just for shits and giggles.”

Mr. Towers thought it was a real hoot, while Mrs. Towers felt that something was amiss and tugged at her husband's elbow to leave. After they parted Cindy and Samuel began to make it to his car with luggage in tow. Samuel talked to Cindy in a casual manner about his future.

“So, although I’ve canceled one part of my plan, I still was going to keep my commitment to the traveling part. But I could really use a partner? You know of anyone who might be interested?”

Cindy slid her hands onto Samuel’s chest and pulled him close with her temple resting against his heart.

“Sammy!?! Sammy, what are you doing here!?!”

Samuel had his eyes closed and as he heard his name exclaimed in the way he hated most, he knew who was calling him. And for some reason so did Cindy. Letting go of each other Cindy stepped to Samuel’s side. Clarissa approached Sam, by all means intending to hug him until she saw that Samuel was still holding onto Cindy’s hand. Cindy allowed a ton of warmth to engulf her, so pleased to be wanted.

“Hey Clarissa.”
“Sammy, how are you? What are you doing here?”

Knowing that she didn’t really care how he was but was really interested in what he was doing, Samuel grinned.

“I came to break up the wedding.”

Clarissa laughed pleasantly, touching Samuel upon the arm. Most people would feel uncomfortable at this comment but since Clarissa believed that other people’s worlds revolved around hers she wouldn’t be too surprised if Samuel was up to one of his silly antics. But how silly of antics he had in mind would never have entered her thoughts.
Looking Cindy up and down as if she were a dirty child to be scrubbed, Clarissa waited to be introduced. Cordially shaking hands the two women exchanged dagger stares until Samuel began to pull Cindy away.

“Clarissa, best of luck. Take care.”
“You too Sammy. Wait, Sammy! Why don’t you two stay for the wedding?”

Clarissa smiled and waited in hopeful anticipation for Samuel’s answer. She never imagined that Samuel would take their breakup as hard as he did, like when he locked himself inside his room for eight days straight. And she didn’t want to destroy him either but to make him presently want her was another story. Clarissa didn’t like people to forget her.

“Thanks Clarissa but we got to get going.”

Despite her persistent and whining requests Samuel refused. After parting, Cindy and Samuel gingerly walked to the car until Cindy couldn’t squirm in her skin any more.

“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Sitting on the toilet Cindy was surprised that she wasn’t scared. To leave with a guy she barely knew wasn’t unusual but with the intentions the both of them had, not even Nostradamus could have predicted. When Samuel had first spoken of his plan, Cindy was scared. Not only was she scared about Samuel's intent to kill someone but also because she questioned him as a person. What kind of man would kill his lover? And another person, as well? Now, as Cindy sat on the toilet, she re-questioned herself and came up with the same answer as before; she trusted Samuel. All her life she had been judged and she refused to damn someone she felt so linked to because he let his anger and sadness cloud his judgment.
Just as Cindy made up her mind, the bathroom door opened. She could hear two women enter.
“Lauren, you should have seen her dress. Hah, hah, hah!!! She has to be a HOOKER I swear it!”
“Really. Oh God, Clarissa you were so right for going after Greg! A hooker? Ewww!!!”
“Well, I don’t know if she is a hooker for sure but she looks like one. I just can’t believe he fell so far down. I really must have hurt him.”
“Hah, hah, hah. You always break hearts, C!”

Cindy finished up and then came out. Clarissa’s face betrayed her intentions of trying to hide her shock. In the middle of applying her lipstick she accidentally missed her upper lip and then dropped the lipstick. Picking it up, Cindy kindly handed it back.

“Yeah, you’re right Clarissa. I am a hooker. And a good one at that.”

Holding her tongue, Clarissa looked at Lauren as Cindy walked out of the bathroom. These kinds of comments were not new to Cindy so she had no problem holding her head high. But as she heard Lauren and Clarissa’s mocking cackles from the bathroom, her blood began to boil. Not wanting to alarm Samuel, she took deep breaths before getting in the car.

“Ready babe?”

Cindy looked at Samuel with all the care she had ever felt for a man. He could tell that something happened but none of her hurt was transferred to him. All he saw in her eyes was compassion.

“Samuel. What’s the difference between us spending the rest of our lives together or a few weeks?”

Samuel knew exactly what she meant. Although forever with her would be great, Samuel was just forever grateful that they even met.

“Not a bit if we live it right. What about giving the other’s power?”

Cindy smiled, drew him close and kissed him with passion. She then let him go, nodded her head and asked

“And how sharp is that hatchet?”

The End

Endurance

                Initiated on Hollow’s Eve of 2010

   

                  

   
    Sitting on a rock in the evening Arizona sun, Thomas looked out on the flat and empty desert landscape. He imagined that if God did exist, every morning upon waking he would sweep the deserts of the world with one giant pass of the hand. Now Thomas watched his partner, Ignacio, usher a family of four out of Thomas’ ’57 Plymouth Belvedere. First, the mama came from the trunk. Her sweaty black hair shined in the falling sun. Her pasted bangs stuck to the left side of her face. She quickly tried to make herself look decent, dragging black strands into a long thick ponytail. Thomas looked away, back out to the empty desert.

“Ninos, vien aqui.”

    Thomas softly called out to invisible children, before a sudden screech wailed from an opening door. Two small girls, probably no more than three and five, sheepishly pushed the door behind the driver’s side open. Its irritating creak attracted more attention than its sweeping length as the mother rushed to help her children jump down from the sweating leather seats. Looking like miniature replicas of their mama, both of the girls rubbed their faces, trying to adjust their vision to the brightness of the desert. As Thomas watched the mama cajole and sooth her children, he was reminded of the other reason he did this type of work. It wasn’t a full time job but he was relying more and more on trafficking money than that of his job waiting tables. Thomas didn’t need the mama to tell him that many of her hopes and dreams for her children started in Mexico but will come to life in The United States. He could see it in her eyes as she squeezed both of her children.

    Since Thomas never spoke Spanish, Nacho took charge of all of the negotiations and price setting. There was no need for him to ever suspect Thomas knew any other language than English. Nacho always thought of his partner as a loyal yet ignorant white boy from San Paderno, California. Wet behind the ears was how Thomas liked to play it, a lesson he learned growing up. Thomas thought of his supposed ignorance now as he rubbed the stub where his pinky finger used to be on his left hand. Gazing out at a tall, deeply blood stained looking plateau only a few miles away, Thomas listened as Nacho rattled off in Spanish to the emerging family of four.

“Walk that way and in a little over a mile you will be at Nogales…of the USA! You will see it.”

    Thomas kept his eyes on the plateau but listened as the ever grateful family thanked Nacho, the father clasping hands with the coyote as if Nacho were the Pope himself.

“Thank you so much, sir. Thank you. We will never forget you…”

    Before the man could go any further Nacho snapped at him with an irritated growl.

“No, asshole! You better forget me! You don’t know us! I don’t exist!!! Understand!!!”

    Nacho held tight to the man’s hand while drawing him forward, both men eyeball to eyeball. While tightly squeezing the father’s hand, Nacho felt the rough calluses of his client’s palm.  The man was a farmer, this much the coyote knew, but he wasn’t going to fight unless Nacho pushed it further. Confident that he had struck fear into the father’s heart, Nacho began to release. The father smelt the acrid taste of tequila on Nacho’s breath. He suppressed his fear as best he could but gulped three times in a row, continually nodding to Nacho.

“I understand, sir. There is no one. Just us.”

    The father spread his hand toward his nervous wife and two little ones. The girls were too young and naive to know what was happening but they recognized fear in their father’s voice. It was a tone that scared the oldest daughter to tears. Thomas had since turned to watch the family. He rose off the rock and calmly walked toward the girl. Mama huddled her little ones closer as he got nearer yet his smile instantly loosened her grip. This was one of Thomas’ greatest gifts and he was aware of its power. It wasn't the smile that contained power but the feeling within. 

    As Thomas looked upon the oldest daughter’s countenance, he caught sight of an innocence he hadn’t seen in years. It was rare that Nacho and he worked this closely with children. Usually they were ferrying men across the border. Families were uncommon. Thomas had recognized fear in men’s faces before but they were usually only concerned about their own skin. At this moment, as the young girl’s eyes scattered from her father to her mother and sister then back to Thomas, never at Nacho, Thomas saw a selflessness and empathy that drew him back to his childhood. The young girl’s worried eyes reminded him of his mother and the way she looked when trouble came for her children. Memory flooded Thomas' mind as he internally swore no bad would come to this child or her family.

      Thomas wiped tears from the little girl’s mahogany cheeks. With a grin toward the mother, Thomas said goodbye and pointed the family on their way. The father was wise enough to see the opportunity at hand and quickly scampered off to his daughters, pushing them toward Nogales. As the family continued to walk he heard the father chastise his wife as she asked him to get their water from Nacho. Thomas smirked as he heard the father scream in a whisper

“Inez, we’re lucky to get away! I don’t give a damn about the water!”

    The father held his youngest daughter’s hand and with the other snatched his wife's, marching them forward onto the cooling pavement. Thomas watched them a little longer as he knew what awaited him from Nacho. Just as Thomas turned toward his partner, Nacho took another swig from his flask all the while glaring at Thomas.

“Thomas. Come here.”

    As Thomas walked toward a kneeling Nacho, keeping shade under the Belvedere’s roof, he replayed one thought constantly in his mind.

Keep it cool. Keep it cool, bro.

    Although he was speaking to himself, Thomas was most worried about getting Nacho upset. It wasn’t hard to accomplish. At times Nacho seemed fragile. Thomas was ever mindful of the bulge sticking up out of Nacho’s backside, 9mm Beretta. His pistol never bothered Thomas because he knew it came with the territory. They weren’t the only coyotes ferrying across the border. And even fellow coyotes weren’t as dangerous as the other criminals and drug runners who made the border their playpen. Yet, Thomas was always weary when Nacho had possession of both his gun and alcohol simultaneously.

     Not wanting to make his partner feel threatened, Thomas kneeled next to him in the dirt. In response Nacho immediately rose, only electing a smile of humor from Thomas.    

“Hey, Thomas. What was that?”
“Nacho. It was over. We took them across. We got our money. That’s it. I don’t want to carry anything over…”
“When I’m talking you don’t interrupt me, pendejo! Who do you think runs things, man? You? Fuck, cabron, you don’t even speak Spanish!!!”

    Along with a sneer of arrogance, Nacho laughed fiercely. He spat an inch from Thomas’s foot. It was at that moment, Thomas thought that another matter must be irritating Nacho. They had arguments before but this utter disrespect was something new.

“What’s wrong, Nacho?”

    The middle aged man tilted his head to the side, as if Thomas really didn’t just ask that question. A brief silence reigned in the desert as both men stared at one another. Just as Thomas was thinking he may have to get physically violent, Nacho began to whisper in Spanish.

“You don’t know what I know. You don’t know what I know, white boy.”

    Although Thomas wanted to respond triumphantly in Spanish, he quickly eliminated the idea from his mind.

“I don’t understand you, Nacho. You know man, unless you’re gonna tell me what’s up, I’m done. I’ll just take you home.”

    Nacho walked to the passenger side of the car and sat down, all the while still whispering the same words. Thomas briefly looked back at the family, who were nearly out of sight by now. He thought back about what Nacho had told them about the distance. He knew Nacho lied. This wasn’t the first time. Nogales was about four miles away, a good hour and a half or two hours distant. Nacho didn’t care about any of the passengers. Unless they had connections, to make him more money, he could care less. He actually hoped most of them would become lost in the desert. Yet this was bad for business. If a coyote wasn't bringing people to their families, friends and destinations, a terrible reputation would be established.                                         Thomas knew that Nacho told the family they would reach Nogales in a mile or so purposely. It was only natural that the family would become nervous after two miles. They may begin to argue, wondering if they went the wrong way. Eventually the family turns around and with no water or very little, they become perfect victims in the empty desert. They definitely would not be the first ones to perish in the loneliness of the red landscape. 

    Thomas turned the ignition. The Belvedere growled loudly as Thomas gunned it off the dirt and onto the highway. Nacho kept silent. With his leather wrapped flask in his lap, Nacho kept his eyes straight ahead. Before nearing the family, Thomas grinned. As the Belvedire slowed down, pulling right beside the family, the father pushed his whole family behind him. The drawn creases on his face made him appear as if he were mentally preparing for the worst. Thomas saw it in the man’s eyes and he received a feeling of pride in his chest as he rolled the window down to speak to the father.

“Nogales, es quarto miles, non es uno. Quarto miles e questo es tua aqua tambien. E que tu vaia bien!”

    Reaching below his legs, Thomas handed the father a gallon of water. Moments ago, Thomas had grabbed the gallon from the rear seat as Nacho was grumbling and whispering around the car. The father looked confused but Thomas was confident they would be fine. He caught sight of Inez’s smile and knew she would take charge if necessary. Most mothers do. Thomas didn’t even bother to look at Nacho. He knew this latest action would probably be the end of their relationship. Thomas enjoyed the silence as long as he could. He knew the war was coming. After thirty seconds of quiet, Nacho suddenly exploded punching the dashboard as hard as he could. Thomas didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Thomas? You speak Spanish, now? That was no gringo talking back there! You made me look like an idiot! You contradicted my words!! And that was my fucking water, not theirs!”

    Thomas glanced at Nacho, checking to see if he were finished screaming. Feeling a bit indignant yet also partially amused by Nacho’s ranting, Thomas reminded himself that the argument was partially about a family’s life.

“Nacho, you purposely told those people the wrong directions. You wanna fuck with people, do it on your own time. I’m no fucking saint but I ain’t gonna purposely assist in a family’s death! You know man, what the fuck happened to you?”

    A debilitating silence seized the car. Thomas glanced over at Nacho who was now lifting the flask to his lips. His long dark hair almost seemed to slip into the flasks opening. He took a long sip. Thomas figured his old friend was trying to irritate him with silence. Instead of being annoyed, though, Thomas tried to take advantage of the quiet and listened to the desert as it came alive again at night. He was bothered by Nacho's actions and he felt them bite into his being. The possibility that Nacho would do something silly with the pistol became a thought for Thomas. He twitched several times when Nacho rose in his seat. Although they had their fights, Thomas consoled himself with the belief that Nacho would never shoot him. Just as this escaped him, Thomas suddenly jolted forward and yelled triumphantly

“And I bought that water, not you! It was theirs, part of the deal.”

        These last words trailed off from Thomas’s speech as he ran his fingers over his shaved head and reminded himself he was yelling at a friend. A friend, at least for the past six years. Even with the Belvedere’s noisy engine, Thomas thought he heard an owl calling out in the distance. Almost beyond his line of sight were a small pack of coyotes. He counted four. They jogged in scattered formation; constantly stopping to cry out in the desert night, speckled with emerging stars.

    If it wasn’t for a light popping sound emitted from Nacho’s flask as air was released from its mouth, Thomas may have forgotten his friend was still in the car. He looked over to Nacho whose chin appeared to be jutting forward. Nacho parted his bangs so that his face was more visible to the world. Thomas took his eyes off the road every few seconds so he could take a look at Nacho. Nacho’s silence disturbed Thomas. He also knew that was what Nacho wanted, to pester him, so he tried to just keep quiet and drive.

    By dusk they entered the city of Nogales. The sun seemed to have fallen very fast. It was near pitch black outside. Thomas stuck his head out the window for fun and caught a mouthful of crisp air. Night air is different than day air. Thomas remembered this as Flagstaff. He needed to get to a someone in that city. An image of a woman with dark brown hair came to Thomas' mind.

-Four more hours. Just four more.
                                                   
   Thomas thought about the hours and the drive. Then he thought of Starbucks coffee drinks. He decided on buying one just as he pulled into the motel lot where Nacho was to stay the night. A gas station’s neon sign attracted Thomas’ attention just as he stepped out of the Belvedere.                                                                    
“Thomas, where you going?”

    Thomas spun around to find Nacho sheepishly leaning against the Belvedere. He avoided Thomas' eyes while he traced his finger along the car's hood. Suddenly Nacho looked up to Thomas, his eyes dark, black eyes watery and needing. Thomas waited for Nacho to say something. Utter something. Yet the older man kept silent. Thomas, exhausted and partially confused, spoke plainly.

“Going to the gas station. You want anything?”                                                                              

    Nacho looked to Thomas with his mouth agape. Thomas watched as Nacho strained to speak. There was something his friend wanted to say yet nothing came. Nacho simply swung his head from side to side like a lonely town sign blowing in the wind. An ambulance suddenly went screaming past. Thomas watched it go down the street until it turned up an avenue. Nacho was too apathetic to watch.
    Thomas turned to walk away yet held, glaring at Nacho. He knew something was wrong yet it was as if Nacho couldn't speak, even if he had wanted. Thomas cleared his throat, attempting to speak yet just when he was about to do so, Nacho walked the hotel clerk's office. He would rent a room for one.
    As Thomas walked toward the gas station across the street, he chastised himself for being too hard on Nacho. He placed his long, strong fingers into his other hand, pushing against one another. In times of stress he liked to punch and kick his heavy bag yet he was a long way from home. This would have to do.
    After buying his coffee, Thomas took a second before crossing the street. He looked out over what was Nogales to him and realized he was happy. He was glad to be alive. There was a pride within him for defending the family yet he wished to talk to Nacho somehow. Thomas jerked his head away from looking down the road. He heard a popping sound, similar to a gunshot, come from near the motel. Still staring from across the street, Thomas watched as a maid timidly walked towards a room. She suddenly began screaming.
    A good hundred yards distant, Thomas could see her hysterically running, hands and hair flailing, past his car and into the lobby. Thomas immediately dashed past traffic and sprinted toward the motel. As he skidded to a halt, Thomas numbingly gazed at the room door which was swung wide open. Thomas dropped his glass of coffee. While he stood looking over Nacho’s crumpled body and the pistol in his friend's hand, all that came to mind was the sound of that bottle breaking, the continual echo of shattering glass.                                                                                                                                              
                                                                   The End                                               
                           

The Mockingbirds Of Spring

Mockingbirds of Spring

I like to think I'm tough. I want to think that when the shit goes down, I mean really goes down; I will step it up and take my rightful place amongst the heroes of my past. The line which carries through us all yet only a few adhere. I have my own thoughts on why human beings are not always brave, why we choose self preservation over honor or to protect another. It's easier. So you have to understand how shocked I was to watch the mockingbirds of spring. I was smoking some herb on an early afternoon just out on my porch. I liked to watch the mockingbirds flutter here and there. Husband and wife would be scooting around all day, grabbing food and delivering it to their young. They kept me present with their constant chirping. It was a real treat. I'd been in an office pushing papers for nearly two years and on the second day of Spring March 24th I kicked over the waste bucket, elbow struck my computer and chastised my assistant on the importance of deep breathing. Needless to say I was canned. And that's OK. I picked up a side job at a local restaurant bussing tables and occasionally waiting. Fine by me. So it was going well. I guess. I had time to sit out and smoke, enjoy the sun. And for some reason those birds just made it so much better.
The one thing that I did not enjoy was that my neighbor, Elise, had an orange and red cat named Buster who spent his days wandering around the grand birch which took residence upon my front lawn. Since it was my lawn I had every right to spray that fur ball right in the face with my garden hose. And I was tempted. Believe me. I have one of those spray gun handles which would be perfect to blast him with right in the eyes. Yet I was trying to bang Elise's sister, Debbie, and if I blinded Buster then it would be back to the Spice Channel for sure. So I just decided to keep my eye on him. There were always a few carefully placed dirt clods next to my porch swing in case of an emergency. Cats are fast but I have a good arm. I wasn't too worried. So when I saw Buster strut his way onto my lawn, his bushy red tail waving around in the air I figured on regulating on him if he got aggressive. And he knew it. He knew I was different. People always let animals get away with things. They figure
"Oh, it's just a cat, it can't be diabolical. It only possesses the qualities of purring and shitting in my clothe basket when I don't feed him his can of Fancy Feast on time." 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a hard ass. I like animals. I wasn't the kid growing up who lit “Whiskers” on fire, burned ants or ripped the tails off of blue belly lizards for shits and giggles. My father taught me that everything deserved respect, from your neighbor to his dog. But just like your neighbor, if he starts pissing on your lawn, you have every right to shoe him in the ass. And I kept this in mind as my mockingbirds’ wails began to reach high pitch level. They hovered above their nest, their young ones’ chirp chirping all the while as their folks seemed to be breaking the panic button on the remote control. I watched Buster like a hawk. He looked over at me and I can swear to you he smiled. He was mocking me. OK it was three o'clock in the afternoon and I had been blazing it since noon, but I saw the edges of that little mouth curl upwards. With the shining glint of his fangs piercing my vision in the afternoon sun he was daring me to do something. 
"Come on stoner. Do it! Throw that dirt at me! And as you're yanking on your chain till the wee hours of the morning I'm going to be tap dancing on our fence, laughing at you as you cry yourself to sleep. Alone!"
I hate Buster.
But what was I gonna do? I felt bad for the Mockingbirds but they didn't know how hot Debbie was and they certainly didn't know that good looking redheads were a rarity in these parts. Despite the fact that I was lonely and desperate I wasn't going to allow Buster to climb the tree and snatch them up, though. I was on watch. He would be kept to land only. There was no way I was going to let him get airborne. At least this was the plan.
At about 4:00 I got pretty hungry. I just bought a box of Rice Krispies and I could hear the elves calling my name from the kitchen. As I was pouring the last droplets of milk into the bowl I heard the intense screeching of my friends. Like a bird version of Jane Goodall I sprinted out of my kitchen, clutching onto my Rice Krispies snack, crackle, popping out into my front yard. I knew it was Buster. But I wasn't ready for what I witnessed. Just 13 feet from me Buster was climbing the mighty birch only a few feet from the nest. Out of the corner of my eye I saw this thunder bolt of brown shoot from the heavens like a rocket. Mr. Mockingbird jet proportioned himself straight towards Buster and his open jaws. With the love that I imagine only a parent can have Mr. Mockingbird flew straight into the open gape of Buster's mouth never to be seen again. Buster snapped the gate close. His body jolted a little bit and I hoped he was going to lose his grip and come crashing down, snapping each of his vertebrae upon the sand-stones encircling the birch tree. But he didn't. He's a cat. He's got more balance than Lao Tzu. And with that Buster looked back at me, then soared into the air and landed with ballerina like agility onto the ground.
He skipped away so quickly that I didn't have time to react. What should I have done? Drop my Rice Krispies? Throw the bowl at him? Double back for a dirt clod? No, no, no. It was too late. I know when to react and when not to. Sometimes Nature has to take its course no matter how nasty it is. But I have to tell you my heart ached. Debbie has got ass and Debbie's smile could buckle the knees of almost any man but even a night with her at that moment could not drain the sorrow which was backing up in my throat and swelling in my eyes. I'm not sentimental, but shit! That's love if I ever saw it. 
 Not knowing exactly what to do I just stood there, eating my bowl of cereal in the middle of the lawn. Yeah, I probably looked awkward standing there but I was paralyzed. At least until I heard the cry of the birds again. I watched Mrs. Mockingbird flap her wings nervously around the nest preoccupied with feeding her young. She seemed oblivious to the death of her husband; no chasing after Buster or sad bird lament over his murder. None of that. She just went back to her routine and so I decided to do the same. Although I felt bad for her Mr. Mockingbird I was content to see how quickly the birds were able to adjust and keep going. Mrs. Mockingbird seemed to work two times faster, playing the role of provider and protector. Somehow this made me feel better. It was as if life would go on for them and eventually all of us. Life was all about adjustment I suppose.

The next morning I went for a run and passed the nest. All was well with Mrs. Mockingbird on watch. I saw Buster a few houses up the street. He was clawing away at a tall sycamore. With a glare of dare he seemed to be trying to tell me something. As he struck his claws against the shredded bark, sharpening the swords for slaughter, I seemed to sense a forewarning in that cunning smile. Yes, cats can smile. At least Buster does.
I decided to run a short one. Perhaps that wasn't a good idea and then again maybe it was. The order must continue despite the pain and our unwillingness to accept it. And so as I was coming up on my lawn and Buster was pole vaulting his way up towards breakfast, I wasn't too surprised to see Mrs. Mockingbird torpedo her way towards her demise. I yelled out as loud as I could thinking that perhaps I could scare him off but it was useless. Some things are just written. As she entered his mouth a sole chirp sounded off in the distance. With that Buster sealed his jaws. He peeped his head around the mighty birch and saw me instantly. His yellow and black eyes narrowed in on me. Unfortunately he was between me and my dirt clods. 

Now I like to think of myself as a man with a healthy sexual appetite. As a teenager my time was divided between taking three showers a day and bird dogging whenever I could (activities that have since not lagged). Yet as I stood, ready in the oncoming warmth of that fresh crisp morning, Debbie and her tight ass was the farthest thing from my mind. Actually, Debbie was replaced. In her stead was an image of Buster skinned and roasting on a fire with a Fiji apple stuffed deep into his throat. I knew he was quick and extremely versatile in his movements, but I had rage. It was an emotion that drove man. When on a north bound trip rationality got off in Sacramento, rage took you to Vancouver. In a flash, which spoke volumes of his ninja like qualities, Buster took advantage of my emotions. Through his superb ability he was able to perceive my state of mind. It was filled with torrid feelings of anger and regret, instead of being as placid and calm as a lake. Taking advantage of this cognitive insight, Buster made a dash for the fence. With nothing in my hands I was unable to knock him down or skirt his speed. With a measure of about 23 feet to the fence I made off for that killer as fast as I could. His head down, Buster charged forward, trying to get to the redwood planks faster than I. But I had passion. And I had revenge on my side. These were justifications to push my out of shape body to its limit, and then beyond, as I quickly closed in on Buster. With five feet to spare we both made a leap for the fence. Coming in from his left side I was able to bat down his face with a heavy hand. I felt his whiskers fold into my palm and his evil meow sent shock waves through my system.
Crashing to the green grass of the lawn, I immediately rose to grab Buster who was sprawled out with a limp paw twisted towards the sky. In that moment I pitied him. Slowly rising Buster seemed like he was badly hurt. With a sense of compassion, that I never thought I would have for him, I knelt to scoop him up and take his tiny body next door. But I forgot about the ruthlessness of cats. As my helping hands were about to encircle his furry little frame Buster pounced on me. His claws went straight for my face and before I knew it I was on my back fighting for my looks. With loud screeches and huffs of energy we tore at each other. I was able to roll over and I proceeded to suffocate him, pressing all my weight as I felt his skeleton slowly crumble underneath mine.
"Ryan! Stop it, please! Stop"
I could hear the yelling and screaming of female voices behind me, but I never looked up. I knew who it was yet I didn't care. And while Debbie and Elise grabbed at my limbs, trying to rip me from that homicidal freak's limp body, I still tried to extinguish his life. Realizing that this was now the closest I would ever get to touch Debbie, I brilliantly pulled her into the mix by tripping her and then rolling over with Buster as sneakily as I could. Debbie and I began wrestling, locked in a strange dance of aggression and regret. Unable to hold Buster down any longer, I let him go, both physically and emotionally. He ran off and I remember being quite impressed with his speed despite the beating he took. My attention was now focused on my fantasy and I had simply replaced one sense of guilt with another. On the soft bed of grass Debbie and I tumbled around for another few seconds, me giggling like a small child and her hysterically yelling
"What are you doing!? Ryan, Stop!"
I rummaged my hands over her body as slyly as I could; trying to make it seem as if I was assisting her in rising yet I think the gig was up. Elise simply stood back in shock and amazement as her sister easily pried herself from my now weakened and effortless grip. I had given up. Saddened and overwhelmed by the loss of my mockingbirds, infuriated by Buster's warpath and now disappointed in myself for losing any chance with Debbie I curled up in a ball and began to weep. It must have been a sorrowful sight. Between sobs of
"I'm sorry Mr. Mockingbird. I was hungry."
And
"I love Rice Krispies."
a small group of neighbors gathered around me. The words "Pathetic" and "Weirdo" were continually uttered but I kept my eyes closed unwilling to face anyone. I figured on calling animal control to pick up the fledglings once everyone had left. I wasn't too sure about their survival yet in the quiet of my mind I envisioned them safely flying around a wildlife sanctuary. The whole thing wore me out.
When I could hear no one else around I opened my eyes. The light of day blinded me for a few short seconds but I thought I made out a silhouette on my porch. It looked to be a woman. I kept blinking my eyes, trying to focus my attention on the figure. Upon rising I realized it was Debbie and all my courage seemed to flow out of me in that second.
"What in the hell was that about?"
"I can explain but I don't know if it will help."
"Probably not but give it a try."
I always liked her sense of humor. And she was going to need it.

The End