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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Saturday, March 31, 2012

The Man Before The Desert

Wind brisk as it ruffled my hair
I scootched my chair a bit closer to my fire ring
Crackling brightly with the scrap pine I'd thrown inside
My feet were hot
My midsection fairly comfortable
My head was cold
That's the way life is
I think to myself
Never quite perfect
All the time

Over my fairly comfortable midsection I held the piece of paper
The piece of paper that defines how my life has changed

A kind of summary for all the tests and doctor's office visits I've been making
All over the last three months
There seems to be a lot of Latin on the page
And symptoms
And expected outcomes

Latin Latin Latin, blah blah blah
Loss of motor function
Progressive nerve damage
Negative prognosis
Within twelve months time.......

I'd failed my yearly physical three months ago
I still couldn't believe it
The doctor couldn't believe it either
He claimed all the other doctors
Well, they should have caught onto this years ago

I'm just as glad that they didn't
After almost twenty years of flying
I'm grounded
With a capitol 'G' my friend

Can't have people like me flying things around in the wild blue
What with the possibility of whatever new thing my body might do
To betray me
Which is what this felt like

I'm almost glad I never had children now
It would kill me to not see them grow and have kids of their own

I haven't told my ex-wife
And I probably won't
Why bother her
I think I'll give enough of that to myself

Fuck that

She'd left me for the gold standard reason of my profession
Aviation Induced Divorce Syndrome
It's pretty common
We like to pretend it's just about the airplanes
But it's all the time away from home
All the missed holidays
The missed dinners
The interrupted vacations

She's happier now
So I'm not going to tell her

What I am supposed to do
Is get rid of all my stuff
And move into an assisted living community
I had several pamphlets in the box next to my chair here
But I've been putting off looking at them
I'm barely forty
I don't want to go into what equates in my mind as an "Old Folks Home"

I toss the medical summary sheet into the fire
It blackens up very satisfactorily
Leaving a dark ghost image of it's former self
I can make out the words still
Standing just a tiny bit darker than the ash that used to be the paper

I poke it with a stick
Smiling as it falls to pieces

I grab the box
Full of the rest of my medical bullshit
The pamphlets
Some get well cards
I throw it on the fire

A shower of sparks goes up with the smoke
Into the night sky
I follow it up with my eyes
Settling my head back against my chair

The moon shines at my face
Hazy as seen through the hot smoke from my fire
I wish I could go there
Or do anything real
Something they could tell tales about
I haven't done anything like that in my life so far

Being born is pretty common
Normal schooling
Normal relationships
Became a pilot
Still pretty normal
Flew for several small airlines before landing a job at Eastern
Normal normal
Married, divorced
Normal, normal, normal

Now I'm going to die
All perfectly normal

I close my eyes
Listening to the fire
Baking my feet
Freezing my head
And I think
I'd say daydream
But it's night
So call it what you will

The moonlight shines through my eyelids
I can't get away from it

Now there's a thought
My eyes open
I stare at the moon some more

I might just have enough time to do something like that
Have to sell all of my stuff though
Good thing I was going to do that anyways

I sit up and poke the fire some more
Laughing lightly at the sparks raised
Like angry little hornets
Flying in a swirl
High fast and hot

To the Moon

Friday, March 30, 2012

Blues of the Bleached White Page

This blank page
Staring at me

Shall I throw paint at it
Like some new age simian artist
Or roll my motorcycle through pans of paint
Then ride around upon it
Leaving the gyroscopic patterns of my circling behind

It's the old fallback that wins out
The littering and polluting on the blank canvas
With New Times Roman font
Random word association
No madness
No genius
Just opening the dictionary
And shaking it generously
Waiting to see what sticks to this canvas

Inspirations can wait
The Hair People of Havana
They have no fleshed out storyline yet
The Man and Dog in the desert
Quake upon the edge of something really interesting
Tales of the Wrench
Those semi-fictionalized accounts of doing what I do
Are only interesting to those to do the same

I should make a clip show
For days such as these
Remember when I wrote about that Red Chair?
How is was sexual
It was binding
How it even had flair......

Like Bart Simpson recalling yesterdays jape
Wayne and Garth waving their hands in a flashback signal

But I won't

I'm going to sit and watch the snow fall
On my newly green flowers
Not quite flowers yet
Just pretty green stalks
Coming up out of their bulbs

Decorated with late March snow
A hint of winter
A cool mint
Without the calories of a peppermint patty

Thursday, March 29, 2012


There's a bird singing on the cactus
It's small feet easily standing safely amidst the prickly spines
I have no idea what kind of a bird it is
All I know is that it woke me up

But that's okay
Dog needs to go out anyways
He can hold it all night
But needs to go right out in the morning

He's taken on a habit of sneezing on me when he needs something
So if the bird hadn't woke me up
Dog would have
With a wet sneeze to the face

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed
I reach out with a stick and pop the door open for him
He runs out like a puppy
Tearing around in circles before settling down to do his business

I take my medicine
I keep it next to my bed along with some water
That way I don't have to try to walk and get anything
I tried that at first
But as I felt worse and worse
I realized it was a bad idea
After I ended up on the floor trying to get to the little kitchen a few times
I decided on this arrangement

A half hour later
I'm feeling like a million bucks
Well not quite, but still
Good enough to make breakfast
Whistle a little tune as my eggs cook
And I get Dog some food as well
He'll be waiting for me next to my chair outside
In the shade of the trailer
As the morning sun is already hot on the other side

I make up two plates and wander outside
Sitting down in the old recliner on my 'porch'
I slide Dog's breakfast to him
I ruminate on what I want to get done today
On my man made wings
My titanium steel aluminum feathers
Which I hope will carry me so high
So far
So fast

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Penis the Willy

The penis is evil
So sayeth the gun vomiting godhead
It must be so
Safeties off
As I point and shoot
At eggy targets
At will

Like that blaxploitation theme song
Going around as I walk
Hard and long
As its namesake
It's not evil
And hardly wrong
It's shaft!

The cock in my pants
Doesn't crow with a sound
Though he's up every morning
Straight and hard
Top so round
A pain in the ass really
Waking with a tentpole
Looking so silly

This rod
It divines for not water
But for pussy
It always points the way
When sexy is detects
Waking up as if to say
Follow my lead big brain
Little brain has got this

Though that's "Mr Johnson" to you
Is the star of many a porn
Performing acts both kinky and norm
Always making a splash
Though moslty at the end
The cumshot
The facial
Some bukakke with a friend

Likes to wear a ring
It's tight and constraining
And really quite his thing
Claims it keeps him proud longer
I have my doubts
I think it's all in his head

Many names for this tool
This man trowel
Baby maker
Little fool
It's always with me
For better or worse
And a constant reminder of masculinity
Even when I'm holding my wife's purse

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Doctor - pt 2

And nothing happened

I pull the trigger again
And again

I flip open the cylinder
Remove the rounds
They look fine
What the fuck?

The police are at the door now
Pounding that they have a warrant
I throw the gun back into it's drawer
Might as well go say hello

The most angry looking policemen I've ever seen
Greet my gaze as I open the door
There were three of them
Their uniforms are so dark they are almost black

As one person
They raise their right arm
Pointing at me

As one person
They open their mouths and shout

I'm dumbfounded
I'm stuck to the spot on the floor I'm standing on
The floor seems to have grown around my feet

The three policemen start to melt together
Like crayons in the oven
Into a nightmare creature
With six arms and legs
But only one head
With six eyes
Three noses
One gargantuan mouth
With an impossible number of teeth

That made me scream
I wished for a chainsaw to lop off my stuck to the floor legs
So that I could crawl away
My god

Six arms reached for me
Gathering me into it's mouth
Crunching down on my skull

I can hear every bone crack
Every chew
Every grind
The pain

Then it's over
Nothing left of me but two leg stumps sticking up from the floor
Still holding fast to my feet

Monday, March 26, 2012

When I Run

When I run
I haven't a care in the world
My wind feels bottomless
My endorphin flag is unfurled
Feet pounding
Cushioned by my ultra trick shoes
Like running on bubbles
I could almost take a snooze

When I run
You know it's because I'm being chased
I'm lazy as a boy
On any other day
And believe you me
If I had it with me
The dude chasing me would get maced

When I run
I'd probably have a heart attack
The only person I'd beat
Would be sporting a walker
So I'll just settle for this nice chair here
Hey now
Get out of here
I don't need another stalker!

When I run
It will be for office
To join the ranks of fat cats
Making up new laws
Giving themselves raises
I'll be fair
Don't worry
As long as that means keeping you under my thumb

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Doctor - pt 1

I slammed the phone down in anger
That motherfucker
That worthless
Son of a bitch

He'd gone and done it
After all that we'd talked about
All that he'd promised
It was a lie

I could kill him
I swear
If he were in front of me right now
He'd be a dead man
I'd find something in this office and club him to death with it

My gaze fell on something heavy
That would do nicely

I picked it up and felt it's bronze weight
Looking down at it
Freud's face in metal
Set on a small marble base
Supposed to be an inspiration
I wonder what he would think If he knew
Knew that I'd use him to kill if I could

Then the bottom dropped out of my anger
My fingers felt weak
And Sigmund Freud tumbled to the floor
Denting the hardwood with a corner of his base

I collapsed to the floor next to him
Not crying
Not screaming
Just burning inside

This must be hell

I turned my head to see the picture on my wall
My ex-wife with my two children
In a cheesy Sears Portrait Studio setting
We'd had it done special
After the divorce my wife had cut me out of all the family portraits
And I'd noticed it

So I made them an appointment at Sears
And paid for it
That way she could have some nice photos to hang up
And I could have some too
Without me there
A constant reminder of what we used to be
Rather a simple reminder of that which I loved most

I'd never remarried
Though I'd dated a few times in the last ten years certainly
But the same things that had driven my wife from me
Kept me at arm's length from these new potential mates
The work
And the baggage I brought home from it

I was a perfectionist
In a field of inexact science
Psychiatry wasn't a career for the meek
And I'd been bold enough to go for it
To spend time on each patient
To try to figure out what made them tick
To try to figure out how to make them happy in their own skins

Isn't that what we all want?
To be happy?

I tried to be
I tried to be happy for my wife and her new freedom
I tried to be happy when I was told of all the things the kids were doing
Without me around
I tried to be happy for the one weekend a month I got to see them
I tried to be happy though my kids started treating me like stranger
I tried

When my ex met a decent guy
I tried to be happy
I did
I almost convinced myself too

Then he asked for a consult
I told him it wasn't entirely ethical
Seeing as I had some interests in the situation
But he insisted he didn't have the money to see anyone else

Oh, I guess this was going to be pro bono
I though to myself at the time
Little did I know

I took the case seriously
As seriously as I did any other
Spending an hour on his case for every hour we talked
Taking notes
Analyzing those notes
And working to understand what it all meant

He was an arsonist
He loved fire
He loved the power

In the years before he met my wife
He'd taken to adding some bonus thrill to the burning
Starting small by putting animals in locked cages inside the old buildings he'd set ablaze
Graduating to burning homeless people where they slept
And working his way up to actively capturing young runaways

He had shame for what he'd done
And had tried suicide twice already

My ex-wife didn't know any of this

He'd been 'on the wagon' so to speak
Laying off arson for almost a year now
We'd been talking about how things made him feel
His motivations for doing it all
Dealing with his guilt

I should have called the police
I know that
I should have warned my family
I know that

But they were so happy
I wanted them happy
When they were happy
I was happy

Until tonight

There is that old saw
How anything can go wrong
And probably will

I'm going to add
That it will most likely happen all at once

I had been going over his case
Something had been bugging me
Like an itch in the back of my head
How he liked the power of the fire
The power over life and death
How he'd grown bored over the years with his steps of violence
Progressing to more horrible things
How he felt deep shame

He'd told me yesterday
That he wished he could make amends for what he'd done
But that he wanted to be pitied
To look the victim
Yet still have the power over the situation

I'd been puzzling over what to do with that admission
When it occurred to me
That he was liable to do something terrible again
Something with my family

Then the phone had rang

They were all dead
My ex-wife
My two children
My patient

The house had burned
Their remains had been found inside
Chained to steel posts in the basement
They were calling it murder
That someone had done this to them

But I knew better
HE had done it
HE had chained them up
And started the blaze
Then chained himself next to them

And he had it all
The power of the fire
The power over life and death
A penance for what he had done
By burning himself along with them
Pity of being a victim of it all

Nobody would suspect him

Except me

But where was this going to go?

From my prone position on the floor
I heard several cars come to a sudden stop out front
I saw flashing lights reflected on the ceiling
Red and blue
Red and blue

I sat up
Suddenly clear

They thought it was me!


I got up quickly and went to my desk
Yanking open a drawer
Lying amid the jumble of desk crap
Was my handgun
Darkly looking at me
I grabbed it

Fuck no
There is no fucking way I'm going to deal with this
On top of everything else

Without another thought
I brought the revolver to my throat
Pointing upwards to my brain pan

I pulled the trigger

Saturday, March 24, 2012

GodCon 2012

I was walking out of Penn Station
That's when I saw him
He was slouched up against a lamp post
Smoking a pipe
One of those carved meerschaum jobs
It had a bare breasted woman on the front
Like a figurehead on a ship

I couldn't tell how old he was
One moment he was ancient
All deep wrinkles and white beard
The next
All I could spot was the youth in his eyes
And a mischievous half smile as he saw me

I said hello
He returned the salutation

I saw his shirt
There was a convention badge on it
It said
"Hello, My Name is Yahweh"

I told him I liked his name
Though it seemed a bit unusual

"Well, that's my name, only one I've ever had"

I told him that I half didn't believe him
I mean, how many parents would name their kid "Yahweh"?

He replied

"You may not believe me, but at least you believe IN me"

That confused me

He went on to explain

"Do you see anyone else around here with a badge similar to mine right now?"

I looked around
And there was just the usual bunch of New Yorkers
With a few crazies here and there nearby
Talking to themselves
One seemed to be a foreigner
Norwegian maybe?
I couldn't tell
But it sounded like some Norse language he was talking to himself in

I told Yahweh I didn't see anyone else like that

"Well, I have a secret for you
By my count there are no less than a dozen of us out here."

What do you mean by "Us"?

"Gods, of course! This is the NYC God Convention 2012
I don't miss these events
A marvelous time to get together with one's peers"

I still don't get it
And I tell him so
Sure, the convention part is easy to understand
But there wasn't anyone else around
I start to edge away from him slightly
This guy just might be insane

He clapped me on the shoulder

"Oh now don't be like that!
Why, right over there is Odin."

He's pointed at a spot next to the babbling Norse tourist
I ask if he means the tourist

"No, the one the tourist is talking to"

I don't see anyone, and I tell him so

"That's because you don't have faith in Odin, now do you?"

I didn't, but then again, I really didn't have faith in a god named Yahweh anymore either

"Yes, you do. Not as much as you once did, but it sticks with you, trust me
Otherwise, I'd be as invisible to you as Odin over there, "

He presses a plastic pass card into my hand

"Here, I'm on a panel this afternoon at three.
We'll be discussing Gods in America
You might like it."

I told him that if I could only see and hear him
That the panel wouldn't be quite as good as it could be

"Nonsense, we all type our answers out as we say them
That way everyone can enjoy the program
The public is invited
I expect to see you there"

He shakes my hand warmly
A sense of calm floods over me

"It's all right
Have a little faith!"

And with that twinkle in his eye
He walks back into the Garden Expo Center

I'm all by myself on the sidewalk again

Or, am I?

Friday, March 23, 2012

Shrouded in Fog

A fog shrouded road
It could be anywhere in America
A gently curving
Now straight
Stretch of two lane highway
This one happening to be in the Michigan North

Bright headlights are useless in the pre dawn darkness
Serving only to blind you by reflecting the white light back
And a all around
Surrounding the vehicle in an impenetrable halo of brightness
Low beams are the order of the day

I've driven this stretch of highway thousands of times
All over the last twenty five years
Even so
I lose track of the bends and straights occasionally
Being mildly surprised that there is suddenly a curve appearing in front of me

I've been on other roads
In other parts of the country
Roads I didn't know at all
And driven too fast
Curves and intersections leaping from the fog
Like a sudden right cross or a hook
In a boxing match on HBO

Always a stab on the brakes
Making the red halo around the rear of the car
Then going much slower for a little while
Until a long straight
A predictable stretch of roadway
Will lull me into a false sense of consistency

Who cares if I can't see more than fifty feet in front of me
Sixty miles per hour seems appropriate
But then something will change
It's a strangely shaped mailbox
Or cleverly unique property sign
Giving the sense of an animal
Or a person
Suddenly too close to the road
Heart jumping into my throat
The brake light halo pops on once again
The cautious coward once again taking control

But it's so peaceful
Gliding through the night
In the fog shrouded world
Only dark hints coming and going
Giving the only indications of a world outside your little sphere
Reality only existing in this little bubble
It's the closest thing to peace I think I've found
It's the closest thing to real contentment

Even better is to stop the car
On a lonely stretch of road next to a river or lake
Just as the dawn starts to break
Gently illuminating all in a dusky glow
Still unable to see much in any direction
It's like being on another planet
With no other humans
Nothing real
Except the sand under you
And the water lapping at your feet

A noise will intrude
A car
A fog horn

And the fog lifts
Reality pulls you back to it's cluttered madness

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Our Lady of Perpetuity

May Our Lady of Perpetual Silence preserve me
As I creep ninjally along this windswept cobblestone path
Smatterings of leaves and dry twigs are strewn everywhere
I dare not make a sound
I dare not rouse the wrath
My objective lies far ahead
But his minions surround these environs

May Our Lady of Perpetual Remembrance remind me
Of the betrayal that led me to this day
Strengthen my will
Hold my conscience at bay
Loaded down with assorted weaponry
Prepared for come what may
Memories flood back to me
My knees grow weak
My head droops
And I almost say:

"Screw this, it's just not worth it"

May Our Lady of Perpetual Vengeance sustain me
During these times of flagging will
Inject steel into my spine
So that upon my course I stay still
My aim will be true
That my wound will kill
To scrape this piece of shit from the earth
Like one would from a shoe

May Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt temper my days
So that I remember what was done
And what I'm preventing
By taking these actions this night
Ending pain
By causing pain
Preserving life
By taking it
If there is a Lady of Perpetual Ends Justifying The Means
May she hear my prayers too

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Icarus Dream

It was a hot one
Inside the white canvas portable hangar it was little better
Where the Lear sat with no engines
It's pylons sticking out of an armored cocoon that we'd started to wrap around the fuselage
Stub mounts for the left and right rocket engines tacked in place with Clecos
I'd wanted to have the boy go inside the airframe to shoot fasteners
But the heat had been oppressive
I'd been afraid he'd pass out

So I'd had the brilliant idea to spray water all over the canvas
I was thinking that just like when you pour water on yourself on a hot day
That the evaporating water would make it cooler inside

I was wrong

The eldest Mormon boy and I had had to go take a break in the trailer at that point
For the tent interior had turned into a bit of a sauna
The water having about the opposite effect I'd wanted
But the air conditioning in the trailer was nice
We drank some iced tea
I dropped off for a nap watching Dog and the boy wrestle on the floor with a chew toy

While I slept I dreamed

I dreamt I was Icarus
I was assembling my wings
From plans my father had given me
In my white tent
In the desert
With Dog by my side

I had boxes of feathers
And they were huge
I have no idea what kind of bird they could possibly have been from
But I handled the XXXXL feathers with care
So as not to split the joined fibers as I patiently poured hot wax
Bonding them to my wooden framework
Which was something like a wood backpack frame
With 'bones' of wings extending out either side

I continued until the pair of wings was finished
Stepping outside to check the wind while the wax cooled
My homespun exomis and himation flapping gently in the warm wind
Dog walking slowly with me nuzzling my hand for attention
Taking a knee next to him
I scratched him behind the ears
I told him not to worry about me when I flew away
He looked at me with his deep dark eyes
And blinked

Abruptly I was back in the tent with my wing assembly
Picking it up
Checking it's balance
Putting it on
I tightened the leather cinches tightly
And turned to the door
Slowly walking outside
Careful not to brush the sides of the tent with the delicate feathers

Out in the wind
It was hard to keep my feet
The long black wings catching every gust
And trying to bowl me over

Turning my face into the wind
I started running
All too soon the wind captured me
Soaring me upwards at a sickening pace
Then ebbing
Dropping me a few feet before blowing hard once again
I looked below me
Dog was running beneath me
A small black figure on the pale sands and scrub
Pacing me
But falling behind
Growing smaller and smaller

I climbed steadily
Ever upwards
I hear a slight popping sound
Looking to my left
I catch the flicker of a large black feather falling away from me

Suddenly I remember what happened to Icarus

I awaken flailing in my chair
The Mormon boy's hand on my shoulder
Saying over and over again
It's ok
Just a dream
It's ok
Just a dream

Dog licks my hand

It's been an hour
Time to get back out there
That plane won't finish itself

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Vaginal Visions

That clinical temptress
Dressed in the white lab coat
Clipboard in hand
Taking notes on you
Referencing charts
Checking pH balance
Smelling slightly of vinegar
But in a sexy Aunt kind of way

Is the gal who lets her hair down
After a long day at the lab
Taking you out for drinks
A night on the town
Safe and sane
With some buddy sex at the end of the night
Vag is quite the pal
But nobody you'd want to marry

Pretty pussy
Is hairless and bald
Almost the opposite of her name
Bringing to mind the tiny pussywillow
Decorating many a teacher's desk
Little silky soft tufts on a slender brown stick
Odorless and soft
On fingertips or lips

Is shorn and trimmed most pleasingly
A unique design upon which to go down
The soft tuft of fuzz to bury your nose in
As you kiss her moist lips
Frenching her quite delicately
The kitty demands to purr
Demanding in that sexy kitty way
Urging you onward
Urging you in

The beaver
The creature between her legs
A pelt shiny and healthy
And quite bushy
To see what she's all about
You must part the jungle
It's the beaver of the Amazon
With a musk so pungent
Yet alluring
The scent an animated finger
Beckoning you forward
Like a Warner Brothers cartoon production
And you float forward
To the soft silky furry retreat

Pretty puss
You know she means well
But puss
Just seems like a face
Demanding to be punched
Not tended or clean
Puss is the wallflower
Puss is the pretender
Puss ehoes her cousin Kitty
But isn't half as pretty
Puss is alone

Then around the last corner
Comes the Slathering beast
Eight feet tall
And coming complete
With puffy mons
Labia majora
Labia minora
And a clitoris hard shiny and fierce
This is the Cunt of your nightmares
Bigger than you
Dripping juices of hate
Projecting the stench of death
Hair patchy and mangy
Slobbering forward with no visible means of locomotion
Like a snail on it's trail
Leaving a slimy path in it's wake
It comes for you unceasingly
Populating your nightmares
With hideous creatures
Of plus man sized horror

This be Cunt!
Bend thy knee in submission

Monday, March 19, 2012

How To Build a Thermonuclear Device

How to build a thermonuclear device!
In several easy steps.

For fun!

For profit!

First, and most importantly
You must locate a man
A very small man
The smallest man you can find
And train him well
He must be strong like Mr. Universe
And handsome as the devil
Train him to be a Major League Pitcher
That will go over better than what he's really going to do
Or not
Depending on how bat shit crazy your little man happens to be
Some time must be spent doing this

Having that in the works
Locate a suitable amount of fissile material
Uranium 235
Or as I call it in my most favorite way:
Oak Ridge Alloy
Not to be confused with the Oak Ridge Boys
Who would make a hell of a mess if put under appropriate conditions
But certainly would not explode

Next you build a little room.
I'd make it out of steel or titanium
The little room should be neither too big
Nor too small
For your little aforementioned man to stand in and move about some
It should be rectangular in shape
Roughly four times as long as it is high

These are approximations
And depend on the size and claustrophobia level of your given little man

Now take your Oak Ridge Alloy
Once again
NOT the Oak Ridge Boys
And divide it into two lots of material
One pile being ninety five percent of the whole
And the other the remaining five percent
Form them both into perfect little balls
Or as close as your clumsy fingers can manage

Take the larger sphere
Suspend it at one end of your rectangular box
Approximately halfway up
Use the suspension method of your choosing
A small basket
A bucket
It matters not
As long as there is an open spot facing the other end of the box
This will be important later

Now place the smaller ball of Oak Ridge Alloy in the box as well
Wherever you wish

Lure the little man into the box
Or just tell him to get in there
Once he is inside the box
Seal up the box
Welding is preferred

Now, your bomb is all set to go
Provided a few more little details are addressed

Instruct the little man to pick up the small ball of Oak Ridge Alloy
And throw it as hard as he can at the larger sphere
Aiming for the exact center of it as it is facing him

I told you it was important to leave a small target for the little man!

Upon impact
Your nuclear reaction should begin
Free neutrons flying about and readily sustaining your reaction

For added flair
Consider having your little man say something before he throws his ball
Something religious, or political
A favorite quote perhaps?
It's all up to you

Have fun with your project
And remember
Thermonuclear devices are not toys!
You should only use them on people you do not like

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Stormy Stab Cap - A Tale of the Wrench

Seventy feet
Give or take a few feet
The Boeing 747 was on jacks and shoring
So that height is just a suggestion

This man lift is an eighty footer
So to reach the top of the vertical stab
It wasn't pointing straight up
But it sure felt like it

We are looking quite chic in our black plastic trash bag ponchos
They aren't really doing a damn thing to keep out the rain that is swirling around us
Or the chill of the fifty degree wet day
Lightning flashes not that far away
We both look at each other
Thinking how fucked up this really is
Thunder rolls over us
I'd absentmindedly counted the seconds after the flash
My daddy told me that meant the lightning was about four miles away
Give or take some windage error

What's that rule of thumb for aircraft personnel on the ramp?
Ten miles
If there's lightning within ten miles
You should get the fudge off that ramp

But in our case it had seemed smart to saddle up an eighty footer
And go up as high as it could
With tools
And little brains

The wind rocked the basket
Sending my stomach into weightless orbit
I grabbed the 'oh shit' handle below the controls a little harder
My other hand still relentlessly working the boom controls
We were almost there

My partner grasped the vertical stab cap with a death grip
The wind kept grabbing it's concave side
Trying to tear it away from him
It stuck up almost four feet above the lip of the basket
Taller than either one of us
Looking roughly like a small canoe with one end rounded
The other end coming to a point

Finally up next to the, for now, stump top of the vertical
We both wrestled the cap into place
It only took about five minutes
It felt like five hours
It felt like I fell over and over with every gust of wind
Every drop of rain that fell on us making my grip that much slipperier on the cap
My fingers were going numb

Finally we got the edges of the cap over the mount flanges
I stood on the first rail of our basket
Both hands firmly planted on top of that cap
Lest it take it into it's head to blow away
My partner grabbed his screw gun to get a few fasteners started

It was in this pose
Standing like some kind of want to be hero
Wind swirling, rain pounding mercilessly
Another lightning flash illuminating us
That I looked down
Almost straight down
And saw the Boss

He was riding in a company Crown Vic
Stopped just below us
Leaned forward in the front passenger seat
Face turned upwards
It was funny almost
I was seventy feet up
And I could still see how pissed off he was
The front windshield a picture frame for his angry face

He leaned back out of my sight
But I could see his hands moving
He liked to talk with his hands when he was agitated
And suddenly being up here felt like an even worse idea

Six screws in on the left
I took my hands off the cap and stepped back down into the basket
Almost slipping off the rail as I did so
I grabbed the controls again and swung us out a few feet
Rotated a few feet over
And dropped us back up against the stab on the other side of the vertical

Had to put some screws in on this side too

It's strange how my fear of heights is relative
Relative to how close to something I am

I can be almost comfortable at almost any height
As long as I'm right next to something
Whether it's something that actually adds safety
Or not
But swing me out away from anything
Even only eight feet up
And suddenly all I can think is how I"m about to fall
The brain is a strange thing

I helped this time
So we had the six anchor screws in quickly

That's when our lead came out of the hangar
Waving his arms at us
Gesturing for us to come down
He seemed upset

I don't know why
He's the one who had us come up here to begin with

I retracted the boom slowly
The large links on the cable guide clinking and kachunking into place
Hitting the stop
I jammed the joystick into the down arrow
The boom swung down
The diesel engine spinning merrily
Not giving a damn about the storm around it

Upon getting to the ground our lead was shaking his head

"You guys just got me in trouble
What were you thinking going up there in this weather?"

My partner and I looked at each other, and explained

"You told us to go do that"

Out Lead got a pained look, like he had gas

"You should be smarter than that though"

Then he walked away

Needless to say, we didn't go back up there right away to finish the job
The both of us went to the back of the hangar
To the little room where the power converter unit for the aircraft was located
A large ground generator looking affair
It had a huge cooling fan on one end of it
There was a constant stream of hot air that come of of the grill

We stripped off most of our clothes
We stood in front of the hot air flow in our underwear and t-shirts
Smoked a few cigarettes
Talked about how stupid this all was

But then, like Forrest Gump said

"Stupid is, as stupid does"

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Otto and Alice

Obsolete outmoded Otto
Bell of the ball one day
Scant time later
Simply thrown away
Not worth the cost of recycling
Not worth the trouble
Not worth the hassle
Who's Otto again?
I forget
I've got the new model
Her name is Alice

Alice slices and dices
Otto only looked grim
Alice is my cup overflowing
Otto only filled it to the brim
Alice can scratch my back
Otto always bugged you to scratch him

Alice is in
Otto is out
Even in these times where money is thin
There is no excuse to keep Otto around
Alice is what progress is all about
Otto is just some garbage on the ground

There was a time
I couldn't put Otto down
He amazed
He astounded
He baffled
He confounded
But now he is simple
Like tic-tac-toe
He is no challenge
His tricks lack any magic
My disbelief lacks suspension
I've gone to see a new magician

Her name is Alice
I clutch her close to my chest
I'll never let her go
I bought her a new wrap
For which to go to the ball
She's so pretty
I can't look directly at her
I poked a hole in a piece of paper
And I look at her indirectly
From her projection on the wall
Alice can simply do it all

I hear that someday Alice might be replaced
But I can't comprehend that
I can only live in this moment
Alice in my sweaty hands
Like sex on my mind
Occurring about once every minute
Averaged throughout the day

You hear that what-your-name?
I've left you
I'm with Alice now

Friday, March 16, 2012

Roll The Dice M'er F'er!

Check out this board game's street cred
Go ahead
Roll the dice motherfucker
It's what the rules they say to do
They wrote the rules
You need to play
What's that?
You going to tune out
Drop out
Not an option
Roll those dice motherfucker
It's what you got to do

Maybe I'm just talking out my ass
Maybe I'm full of gas
Take a deep breath
If you dare

Oh dear, I fear I've got the vapors!

Roll the dice motherfucker
See what happens
I've got some snake eyes for you right here
If the right one don't get you
Then the left one will
Roll the dice motherfucker
Put that pedal to the metal
Let's see if your rebuild is worth a damn
Try out the top end
Unless you're a pussy
Roll those dice motherfucker
It's what I insist you do

Firewall the throttles
See if shit don't fly apart
It's only titanium shrapnel
Roll the dice motherfucker
Do the leak check at 1.80 EPR
If you've got the sack
Roll the dice motherfucker
Or I'll curb stomp your face

I've got all day
I packed a lunch
Go ahead
Take your time
I'm going on a hunch
If I can egg you on enough
You'll do something You Tube worthy
Utter that fateful phrase:
"Hey Watch This!"
Roll the dice motherfucker
I've got your number
I've got your rhyme
It aint a good one mind you
But I do it all the time
I'm a pro
I'm an amateur
I get paid all the same
Both over and under the table
Roll'em motherfucker
Let's go!

Fist your ass
Fist your face
There's no shame
No disgrace
What happens here
Stays here
It's like Vegas
But it hurts a lot more
And just like Fight Club
The first rule is not to talk about it

Talk about what?
That's right
Not a damn thing

Those dice in your hand?
Roll them
We aren't getting any younger

Thursday, March 15, 2012


Two platforms
One plank
Thirty yards
What's the big yank?

I'm not so sure about this Sir
I have to ask why
Isn't there a better way

Don't worry, ain't nobody gonna die!
Just get moving with your partner
It's just like walking on the ground

That's easy for you to say Sir
You actually are on the ground
While we are up here
And I'm not usually scared of heights
But I'm getting a little taste of fear

Move your ass!
Or I'll have you fired
That's it
One foot after the other
Don't make me crack a whip!


Hey, you okay there?
Can you get up?
Ok, just sleep it off there

See, I told you nobody would die

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Things Are Bigger in the South

Do you know
From where does the hairy squirrel grow
Deep in the South
Near the river mouth
Where the alligators have hair between their toes

In the crick of a crook
Worth twice a look
Hiding with the meadow mice
Reading a thick leather book
Mama squirrel nurses her brood

Born hairless as a fairy
Brought up strong on dairy
Six little ones grow and grow
As mama squirrel is watchful and wary
For the alligators with their toes so hairy
Lest they creep closer for a taste

Not just a snack size squirrel
Almost human size and hair with no curl
They're bushy and bristley
And quite the sight to see
The ground shudders when they leap from a tree
The hairy toed alligators are right to walk softly

So when you venture South
Don't pass up a visit to the river mouth
To be tourist with the alligators with hair betwixt their toes
And the man sized hairy squirrels with pink nose
Pictures won't do them justice
Just look on with awe and give them a treat

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Organic Polymer People of High Molecular Mass

It's a plasticy world
Full of fake poly people
They're so sure that they're real
They think they aren't sheeple
But they do what I say
For they lack volition
As surely as if
They were made by an institution

It's a plasticy world
Full of fake poly people
The garbage in
Garbage out
Is very real
When I use the best stuff
They turn out rather well
But when I use leavings
Let's just say you really can tell

It's a plasticy world
Full of fake poly people
Doing polystyrene jobs
Having plexiglass appeal
They feel free to throw stones
Because their houses aren't glass

Those walls are as plastic as they are
Just like the never growing
Always green
Never needing mowing
Green green flexi-grass

It's a plasticy world
Full of fake poly people
They are happy where they are
Their plastic bells ring in the steeple
Gathering them all together
For a picnic under plastic tarp tents
With the glossy yellow nylon ball
Shining rays of ultraviolet
Fading everything just so slightly
Every day
Until recycling day
In the fall

Monday, March 12, 2012

Strong Starter

Melancholy and creamy
Impressionist and dreamy
Your brush strokes draw me in
Leading without the within
A grain upon the colors
Showing where you've been

I can trace back to the beginning
Whence brush first met canvas
Idea first became thing

That flower there
The red one
That's where you started
Not with an entire idea in mind
But that one solitary thing

To make the perfect little red flower

Not sure what you did next
Perhaps that boat there
Or the grass over here
Either way it matters not

Your soul stayed right with that flower

So realistic as to be a photo
Every detail jumps out at me
What ever drove you to such perfection
And what made you think that anyone would ever see

I'm looking at it now
Almost does it ruffle it's petals in a pretend breeze
I wish you'd have put as much effort into the rest
And of course I'm not just talking about the painting now

It's the painting
It's our relationship
It's everything in your life really
You always start so damned strong
It awes us all to our core
Your competence at most everything is stunning

Then you lose interest and move on

I'll never forget those first few weeks after I met you
Your voice
Your touch
Your grace

I stab out a text message to you
"Come pick up your shit
It's in a box in front of my place"

Do I place the painting in the box

As I set the box on the bottom step of my stoop
I deposit one tear inside
For you to take along

I hop on my bike
And go for a ride

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Hajj - pt 3 - Tales of the Wrench

The dark lower forty one electronics compartment surrounded me
The light switch should be right about
Now lit with several small light bulbs I checked the compartment one last time
Everything was ship shape
Reaching up as I stood in front of the ladder to the main deck
I turned the latch handle
Pushing up there was a lot of resistance
Someone was standing on top of the hatch
I rapped on the hatch panel with my fist a couple times
Pushing up again this time the hatch was light
I pushed it to the side under the passenger seat next to the opening
There were several faces looking down at me
One of the stewardess' and two of the Haji's
All peering down at me
Like I was some kind of dirty mole man about to invade their world
The stew recognized me and laughed

"Why didn't you use the stairs?" She wondered

I didn't have an answer
I'd explain later and we'd all laugh about it
Right now though, I was kind of embarrassed
I was the main attraction for the whole forward cabin
Huffing and puffing I squeezed my fat body up through the hatch opening
My pants almost fell down as the belt got stuck on the lip

The stewardess helped me get my feet
Then I replaced the hatch cover
Smoothing the edge of the carpet around it
Wouldn't want someone trip now

I looked around
Most of the passengers were still looking at me
The fat dirty mechanic that popped up out of the floor
Glancing over at the main entry door I saw that the air stairs was still there
All that spectacle was for nothing
Could have taken the easy way

I asked the stew if there was anything they needed down here
They didn't
So I headed up the spiral stairs to the upper deck
I hoped to find an empty seat or two to relax on for the trip back
No such luck
The upper deck was full of men with meticulously trimmed beards
Clearly the upper class in the upper deck
So much for no distinction of classes during the Hajj

That meant I was going to sit in one of the jump seats in the cockpit
Which I really didn't mind
I was definitely not sick of the sights and sounds of the cockpit during flight yet
Still young at heart I suppose
It made me feel like a kid

The flight crew was talking about some event that evening
They wanted to get back in time to attend

"The clock is ticking!" One of them exclaimed

I quietly unfolded the fifth seat in the back corner of the cockpit
Locking the pins of the complex folding mechanism into place
I sat down heavily
Buckling my belts loosely
The crew went through their checklists
All routine stuff
I looked out the side window at the pretty countryside around the airport
Wondering if I'd ever get to come back someday
Engines start up
We taxi out
Experience the never boring thrill of take off
Set our course for Medina

I lose track of time by burying myself in an aircraft manual
Can't ever know too much about these things you know

An hour later I hear the copilot call in to Medina airport

"November - seven - four - seven - X-ray - Lima
requesting immediate descent to the runway"

The tower responds in their clipped accent

"Are you declaring an emergency?"

"No, no, nothing like that. We'd just like to land immediately"

I was puzzled by the exchange, usually that wasn't the way it went
Our immediate approach was authorized

So from our altitude of twenty thousand feet
The captain pulled the throttles back
Pulled the speed brakes
And pushed the nose down slightly
We dropped like a rock

I quietly hoped the passengers had been warned before all that
As my stomach was suddenly virtually weightless

Our descent lasted a few minutes
A big arc around the airport with a steep descent
Ending with us on short final approach

Brown desert spotted with frequent volcanic black rocks flashed below us
Getting closer and coarser
We crossed the threshold of the runway
The airframe shuddered as we contacted the runway
Almost before the nose gear touched down it seemed
The engines were thrown into reverse
We made the mid-field taxi way turn off
And scribed a short bee line for the terminal area

Our group on the ground was there to marshall us in
The airport people wheeled up the stairs as soon as we were chocked in place
Passengers busied themselves with getting ready to deplane
The usual mess being left behind

The flight crew was ready to go almost before all the passengers were
All carrying their bags out along with the mob of passengers
I was left alone in the cockpit
I was in no mood to fight my way through the throngs of people downstairs
So I sat down at the Flight Engineers desk to thumb through the logbook
I idly glanced at all the quantity gauges
Oil was in the green
Hydraulics was looking good
Fuel seemed a bit low
Reserves were empty as usual
Number one and four main were empty
Number two and three main had about seven thousand pounds apiece
Center tank was empty

That really seemed a little low

Our head mechanic came upstairs
We chatted about the flight and the few gripes that were in the books
I commented on the fuel quantity
He whistled

"Wow dude, you guys didn't even have enough to do a missed approach"

Turns out
The flight crew wanted to make it back in time for a flight back to Jeddah
Some sort of party going on there tonight
So they'd tried to shorten our time on the ground in Ankara
By having me put the bare minimum return fuel on board
That's why we'd asked for immediate descent
And slid into the pattern on a short final
There just wasn't enough fuel to do it right

The flight back to Jeddah was cancelled
Cutting the fuel load back hadn't saved any time at all
We were all back at the Medina Hotel that night

Misplaced motivations
Standard operating procedure
In our little land of misfit toys

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Hajj -pt 2 - Tales of the Wrench

This was my first trip on the B747 as a ride on mechanic by myself
So when I hit the bottom of the rolling covered air stairs in Ankara I was distracted
The small group of officials standing there were a good looking bunch
All in crisp white uniforms with little airport badges
And about half women
Very attractive women
For a few seconds I forgot there was an airplane I was supposed to be tending
Introduced myself and just sort of took in the three women and their dark Turkish beauty
I decided that living in Turkey wouldn't be the worst fate on earth for certain

But I wanted to walk around the airplane once before the fuel truck got there
I made it about halfway around before I had to go bother with the fuel
The flight engineer flagged me over as I was walking over to the truck

"Here's what we want on board for the trip back"

He said as he handed me the slip of paper
I looked at it

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we need to get going. That will be plenty."

It seemed to me that the amount of fuel he wanted to add
Well, it would add up to a total of less than what we'd used to get here
I shrugged and got moving, what'd I know anyways?
The fueling truck was in place under the left wing
I greeted the two refuel guys with a "Hello" and a nod
They said something in their language and smiled back
I climbed aboard the little basket with one of them
The other one ran up the truck motor as we raised on up to the wing fuel panel
I popped open the four latches and snapped the two panels down into place
After hooking up the hose I set up the switches to send the fuel where I wanted it
Pouring fuel into number two and three main
I took half a minute to do some figuring on a scrap of paper

Need four thousand pounds more in the reserves
Ten thousand more in the outboard mains
Forty thousand for the two and three inboard main tanks
None for the center

I threw four more switches which opened corresponding valves in the wing
The truck slowly pumped it's fuel up and into the big Boeing
I had a few minutes to look around

All the Haji's were slowly filing out of the terminal
In a casual double line across the hundred yards of tarmac
Men and women all wearing the same outfit
A loose fitting off white outfit of two pieces with a sash
Simple leather sandals on their feet
Most had small bags thrown over their shoulders
Some had empty jugs hanging from their bags as well
I asked about that later
Apparently it's for "Zam Zam Water" from some holy well at some point on the Hajj
A person can collect it and take it home with them
They all marched slowly out to the airplane

I turned back to my job at hand
Watching my refueling panel gauges
We dinged my magic numbers
I shut off the tank valves one by one until we were done
Hose unhooked I put the cover back on and closed the two panels
The four latches snapped shut with a satisfying noise
I hopped off the lift as soon as we hit the downstops
Waving goodbye to the two refuelers I walked briskly to the nose landing gear

Arriving at the rear side of the gear
I put a hand up on the steering cylinder while clambering up on top of the tires
Balancing against the gear strut I reach up and pop the latch handle to the E&E hatch
Following the silly stenciled arrows I rotate the handle 180 degrees
The hatch then pushes up and slides starboard
Now I can climb up on top of the steering cylinders and get my ladder

The eight foot ladder was barely able to be maneuvered out the hatch
You had to feed it up at an angle to one side of the compartment
Until one end of it was almost wedged up to the main deck floor beams
Then the other end could be fed down at an angle through the E&E hatch opening
Getting it out that was wasn't easy by yourself
But not getting the ladder wasn't really an option
After the ladder was out I set it up so I could climb right up into the E&E compartment
That's where my tools and the oil was kept
I grabbed a partial case of quart Mobil Jet Oil,a screwdriver, and channel locks

Dragging everything over to the number one engine
I set the ladder up on the left side of the still hot Prat & Whitney JT9D engine
I popped open the oil service hatch on the cowling exposing the oil tank
The oil cap was hot
Too hot
I used a rag to grab the cap lock and took it off
Almost dropping it
I set it on top of the ladder
I couldn't see the oil inside the filler neck
So I grabbed a quart can of oil from the base of the ladder
Setting the channel locks on their widest setting I aimed carefully at the top of the can
Pop! I hammered the channel locks into the can
A small rectangular hole appears like magic in the lid
I rotate the can and do it again for a vent hole

The oil tank is fed the contents of that can
Not quite full still so I pop another
Now it's full to the brim
Just right

Cap goes back on
Cap lock snapped into place
Cowling hatch closed
Climb down
Repeat ritual at the other three engines

All told the refueling and oil ritual takes less than forty five minutes

All the Haji's seem to be on board now
I'm concerned that I'm holding up the flight
So I hurry putting everything away
Case of oil gets stowed on the right side of the tunnel
My tools are stashed back in my box
The ladder is wedged back in it's place along the width of the floor
I'm not going to bother with climbing back down and then back up the jetway
There's a floor hatch up to the main deck
The jetway might have been pulled away by now
I don't know why
But the nagging feeling that I might get left behind keeps nipping at me

I close the E&E hatch from the inside
The compartment gets suddenly dark

Friday, March 9, 2012

Hajj - pt 1 - Tales of the Wrench

It really didn't look like what I thought Turkey should look like
On the other hand, I really didn't have any preconceptions about Turkey
So any way that it looked
Would have been a surprise

On final approach I pressed my face against the upper deck side window
Watching green hills slide underneath us
Winding dirt roads going here and there
Now and again leading to a small whitewashed village
Once even to a larger town with a tall tower in the center of town
It obviously used to be a church
Though now I suppose it was used as a mosque
Still a place of worship though
So that's nice

We touched down in our empty Boeing 747
Empty because we had to deadhead to Ankara
Pick up a full load of Muslim pilgrims
We called them Haji's
Because in Arabic the pilgrimage was pronounced as Hajj
Pilgrims went on pilgrimages
Haji's went on Hajj

After loading up with those three hundred fifty plus people
We'd fly them all to Medina
One of the Holy Cities located in Saudi Arabia
There to let them off
So they could do their pilgrimage
Throw stones at the devil
Pray and march around the mysterious black box in Mecca

I don't pretend to really know what that box is all about

Rolling up to the passenger gate
We find that it is really just a parking spot next to the terminal
The ground handlers roll up a nice covered air stair
I take advantage of it and head on down

Thursday, March 8, 2012

But No Hard Feelings

Well here we are again
And by 'we'
I mean you
And there's no denying it now
Things just didn't work out
Quite the way that 'we' thought
Once again I'm looking at you

There's no way we can fix things
This light casts no doubt
You'll have to pack up your things
And get the fudge out

I'm glad it's worked out this way
These tears
Are for joy
I'm just so happy you get to move on
I don't miss you at all

oh yes

You haven't left yet
But I assure you
That when you actually do

I'll be dancing daily
From dusk till first light
By myself
Or with others
It will be a fine sight

But you won't see it
Just believe it
It's true
Now get out

'We' love you
It's true
But by 'we'
As always
I mean you

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Cookie Cake Doughnut Pizza Bake

That Twinkie of happiness
It's calling out to me again
I've had a bad day
Or just an average day
But my motor just isn't running like I'd like
A Twinkie will make things all right

A mechanical motion of chewing
Tasting all the while
Then swallowing
I've seen it in profile on an x-ray movie
It disgusted me thoroughly
Made me want to vomit to see

So it's just mechanics
A mechanism to fuel the body
Required yes
Recreation no

But just try and tell my brain that

Fall and hurt your knee my child?
Here's a lollipop to soothe the hurt
While I clean and blow upon your wound
You can drool sticky cherry sweets upon your shirt

Is it your birthday?
Here's a cake
If you don't have one you just aren't anyone
Eat, it's your birthday, Eat!
You are just too thin

Time to ride the bicycle
All the way to McDonald's
A twenty piece McNuggets to go
Asian '80's style with Teriyaki and Hot Mustard please

Rough day at school
Order a small Domino's pizza when you get home
It's only five bucks
(Screw the tip!)
In thirty minutes or less
You can get your fix

Did you ask that girl out
What'd she say
Well I have some cookies for you
That will make you feel less bad
After a small dozen or two

It starts to feel good after awhile
It starts to be habitual
It goes beyond basic needs
It's your heroin
You get the shakes without it
Even as your brains screams NO!
Your hand puts it in your mouth

Those treats up there in the cupboard
Those are for lunches only
Don't touch them
Unless you'd like one
Did you think you would?

Or on those long lonely days and nights
With nobody around
At least nobody you give a damn about
That cookie cake doughnut pizza bake
Will fill that void
Almost as good as a special someone would

Food equals love
Food equals comfort
Food equals happiness
Food equals safety
Food equals not being bored

No wonder you're so fucking fat

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Tap Tappity Tap

Tap tappity tap
Whatever is that?
Something tapping on my brain
Something rolling down the drain

I grasp the cupboard handles
Yanking them open quickly
Following the sound with my eyes
It won't get away from me though it tries

Tap tappity tap - roooooll
Whatever it is
Bounces and rolls it's way along
My galvanized drain pipes with glee
Now clanking
Now clunking
Hitting the Tee bend with a gong

It's to the floor level now
I turn and run to the stairs
To the lower level I go
To stand and to wait
For the next sound it may create

Tap tappity tap - roooool - gong
There it goes
It's moving right along
I follow it along the pipe
Through floor joists and two by fours
There must not be any water sitting in there
Else whatever it was would need oars

It reaches the wall
Passing right through
With a tap tappity tap and a roll
I turn and run out the door
I need a tool now
This sound must be found

A quick stop in the garage
To grab my shovel
Then onto the lawn
My ear pressed to the ground
Thankfully with silence all around

Then I hear it

Tap tappity tap - rooooll - gong - kerplunk!
It's in the septic tank!
I've got it cornered now
I kick the rock aside
That sits atop the thin soil over my cleanout hatch
Shovel throws some dirt
Then pries the small hatch aside
Shining my flashlight down
I can scarcely believe my eyes

There rolling to and fro
Amidst all the waste and offal

Is a cockroach in a tiny exercise ball

Monday, March 5, 2012

CAUTION: Thinking Cap May Cause Thinking

For once
I am thinking clearly

The thinking cap
With wires dangling
Like an octopus with thirty two arms
Reaching for my scalp
With tiny electrode hands

This is going to be amazing

I attach the wires carefully to my shaved head
I lower the cap carefully

I hold the switch in my hand
Thumb upon the button
I bite my lip in anticipation
Great things will come of this
I have no doubt

I press the button

For what seems like an eternity
I stare at a drop of water
It's midway between falling from the faucet
To the sink bowl below
And it's just hanging there in midair
Shimmering slightly

I project myself into the drop of water
I swim about the molecules within
Poking my finger at the two hydrogen atoms
Seeing if I could separate them from the lone oxygen atom
But they're stuck
Stuck to my finger as a matter of fact
I flick them off quickly
They feel rather ooky

I pull my multitool from my pocket
I grab some water molecules and set them in the air before me
Flicking out the blade
I dice the molecules
I arrange electrons and protons
Not neglecting neutrons
I feel like I'm building a kit
But this is no plastic sports car or bomber
This is something new
This is an answer

I hold the future before me
Glowing and spinning

The cold fusion reflects upon my face
Perfectly safe

My thumb comes off the button
I'm sitting once again in my chair
My face is still wet though
I wipe it off with a dishrag
It's blood

I faint


Sunday, March 4, 2012


The new iGod is here
I've been waiting all night
In this long line
With a thousand others
The sun broke over the mountains
It's almost eight in the morning
The store is bound to open soon

I almost can't stand it
I'm so excited
This new iGod is the answer
I just know it
I've been promised this for my whole life
And now it's about to come true

The last iGod
Was almost perfect
And when I got it
I thought it was
But after using it for awhile
I found some flaws here and there
Those little things that get bigger after time

When they announced the new one
I checked my savings
I decided I could put off a few things
The kid doesn't need braces after all
The dog doesn't need it's shots
I don't need new glasses
I can squint for awhile

But who are we kidding here

I'd blow tourists in the back alley
Just for the chance
To get my dirty little hands
On the newest best thing


My soul will be fulfilled
At least until next year

Saturday, March 3, 2012


Small and made of plastic
Heads uniform and yellow
Expressions painted and spastic
Yet unchanging

To do that
You have to swap out the whole head
Frankenstein style
Which I do often enough
What with all of them lined up on a shelf next to my bed

Their 'outfits' are a gas
Some perfectly normal
Others strange or crass
And those are my favorite

The angry fighting men
Some with guns
Others with swords
Attacking each other in tens

I'm a deca kind of guy
How many can get involved?

Well how many can I dig up
From the mess that is my bottom drawer
A mangled morass of Lego bits and pieces
All blurring my vision with their blocky variety

A yellow face
Something new to throw into the battle
That is ever raging
On the shelf next to my bed
My armies of Lego Minifig men

Friday, March 2, 2012

The Real

Buried deep inside her
I briefly dreamed it was all real
That this was really my life
The deluxe accommodations
The money
This beautiful woman straddling me
I laid my hands on her body
Closing my eyes
Letting my fingertips trace her form
Her breasts heaving in breathless post climax
Her sides curved and warm
Her thighs tight and hard

I opened my eyes and looked over
Dog seemed to roll his eyes at me
From his spot on his own soft bed
Perched on small raised platform in the corner
He surveys all
And while he approves of happy activity
Delusion doesn't suit his style
So I grin wryly back at him

He's right
She's a lovely girl
But she's a whore
And I mean that in a good way
The best whore should make you feel just like this
Loved and the king of the earth

Sex hadn't even been part of the deal
I'd just paid her to accompany me for a few days here in Vegas
Now, here on the second night, she'd given herself to me
It did make me feel loved
And almost normal
But I knew it wasn't real

We held each other and looked out the massive window
Watching the lights of the strip
A few late night flights coming in and out of the airport
Slowly arcing down to the ground
Slowly arcing upwards

I knew if we stayed in one place long enough
The stars themselves would arc around our view
But she fell asleep in my arms
So I slipped out of bed
Covering her with one soft satin sheet
She was now a perfect soft silhouette on the bed
I walked over to the couch by the window
Dog stirred himself and came over
Hopping up beside me
Leaning into me
We watched the stars rotate in the heavens for a few hours

This was real
Me and him

As fun a diversion as this was
I shouldn't forget that

Thursday, March 1, 2012


Most times
I think to myself
There is food in the bowl
Padding over to check
But there wasn't any
I give it a good lick just to make sure
But it certainly is empty
Not even any kibble dust to add flavor to the lick

A man walks by
Slowing to look in my cage
I sit quickly and cock my head
Sometimes when I did that I got a treat
But he just reaches in and pats my head softly
Burbling something out of his mouth
I sure wish they could talk
I'll bet they are saying something smart

Even though there isn't a treat
I wag my tail
And lick his hand as he pulls it back
I try to be nice
Usually nice things happened when I am

Except for lately

I'd been scared
My only family had left
After so long being happy
Suddenly there was anger and sadness
Then all the things in the house
Had been put into a big yellow truck
They'd shut me inside the garage with some food and water
And left

I waited

I waited all day
I waited all night
I waited all week
My water ran out
My food ran out
I barked every time I heard someone
Thinking it might be them
That this was all a mistake

I laid down
I couldn't bark anymore
I was so hungry
I was so thirsty
I was so tired

Then the big door opened
Someone walked in and picked me up
I rode in a car in the back seat
The windows were down
I wanted to put my head out
I loved to do that
But I just couldn't

Then I came here
I saw a doctor
He looked at me
He weighed me
He clucked his tongue at me
He gave me some shots

I drank as much water as I wished
I ate kibble too
Now many days later
I feel better

But I'm always worried that the food will run out
I always double check the water
Someday there might be none again
I chew my left leg when I think these thoughts
Nobody likes it when I do that though
I don't get treats
So I try not to
But it's hard

The man comes back
This time he has a treat
I can see it in his hand
Another man walks slower behind him
But I'm mostly looking at the treat
The first man gives the treat to the second
Saying something incoherent

The new man reaches out slowly
I sniff him carefully
He smells strange
Sweet and maybe a little sick too
I like the smell though

So I sit
I cock my head
I make a little noise in my throat
A happy noise
And he gives me the treat

I love how that works

More talking between themselves
I look from one to the other
Trying to maintain cuteness
Finally they shake hands
The gate is opened
And the new man comes in

I bury my nose in his crotch
So I can get a good smell of him
He hooks a leash to my collar as I'm doing that
Scratches me behind the ears

He turns and walks away
I follow
I don't want to drag behind
Through the door
To a waiting pickup truck
Old and white
With lots of stuff piled up in the back
I've only got eyes for the inside though
I want up on that seat

He opens the door for me
And in I go
He leans over and rolls down my window after he gets in

As we pick up speed pulling away
My head pops out the window
A dark German Shepherd face
With one droopy ear looking back at me in the mirror
I put one paw on the door mirror
I stick my whole upper body out the window
Tongue hanging out
Wind blowing my lips back
I bark