The FALL (part 2)

THE FALL (PART 2)

Click to read the first part of THE FALL

She loved me so much that when my mother told me that Clarice was nothing but a cold blooded gold-digger who only wanted my money.  I stopped talking to my mother for a month.  And when I finally did start talking to her again, I told her that if she ever said anything bad about Clarice that my mother would never – ever hear or see me again and that she would not get a dime of my money.

That was the end of it because my mother told me that she could never stomach seeing a gold-digger like Clarice rob me, ruin me and destroy me.  She told me that it just wasn’t in her to witness such a tragedy.  That was the last time I told to my mother.  Which was a shame because I knew that my mother and Clarice had talked over the phone and that Clarice had always come out of her room after talking to my mother with the largest smile on her face.  So, maybe there was room for forgiveness in my mother, maybe there was hope. 

I knew my mother was talking to her because in secret I was checking my wife’s phone records.  I knew it was wrong of me.  After all didn’t I trust my wife?  But my mother’s comments had sparked something inside me, after all, she was my mother and still held a powerful sway over my thinking. 

Boy, was I glad when I saw that the only people that my wife was talking to me was Randall and me.  And didn’t you know it, I found that just yesterday my mother had gotten a call from Clarice, that was when she had come from her private cabin, with that big smile on her face.  It must have been because she was trying to cook up a surprise reunion for my mother and me. 

Poor Randall.  It was Randall who had not been having any luck with the woman.  True, he would bring them around, but they seemed more like showpieces to help assuage his ego, allow the fiction of thinking he was still “getting the girl”. We never chided him, nor made him feel inadequate. In fact we praised him for it.  Clarice had just told him the other day that she was glad that he had not just any woman.  That all the girls he had brought home were nothing more than trollops and skanks, not worthy of dating such a “fine man” as he. 

Here I am in the water, slipping further into unconsciousness, my life flashing before me.  Thinking of all the mistakes I had made, the regrets, the hopelessly lost moments I would want to retrieve and redo.  All of this, while darkness began to overcome my vision.  My mind drifting back to those last few moments before I feel back.  Poor Randall, I thought again.

And then that last image replayed itself again.  Clarice hadn’t moved to catch me nor had she acted surprised as I crashed into the water.  And then I remembered.  Randall’s other hand ...

Sunday Scribble: What if life is real?

Sunday Scribble

What if life is real?

It’s a question I posed myself earlier this week as I was pondering another story.  I wanted to write a story that was on the level of some deep and far reaching concepts.  So I decided to ask myself that question.  Of course I wasn’t sure I would get an answer, but I thought it was worth exploring. 

It turns out it was a good question at the right time.  There are a number of people in my life who look at life as one big plan, and I admit, I am one of those believers.  I would also add that I wish someone would tell me what the goal of the plan was – cause I would like to make some adjustments to it in the vein of making it happier for me.  But I digress. 

So I said: “Self,”  paused momentarily as I fruitlessly waited for an answer.  “What if life is real?” 

After a few seconds I gave up waiting for an answer and just sat there, thinking.  This is the part of any one of those documentaries where the narrator would launch into a whole description of what life is – cause you have to understand that aspect of the question in order to answer the question.  Of course we know what life is…… Don’t we?

 Now before you get all fuzzy and watery, this is not a discussion on conception vs abortion, etc.  I was actually headed down a different path.  In a non-philosophical debate that doesn’t touch on conception or abortion we can move beyond that to something more pertinent to this discussion.  Looking at a cross section of friends, associates, acquaintances, occasional visitors, etc. etc. etc.; we can readily find those who we think have NO life, meaning they spend all their days doing work or something not fun or what we might perceive as uninteresting.   Or are we a placeholder.

A placeholder is what it sounds.  Just going through the motions, getting no where fast or slow, just going along – alone usually, towards no goal of possible accomplishment.  They are the people we call paycheck ------- (fill in the job title you wish- player, teacher, musician, construction worker).  They check in at the time clock, do just enough work, avoid creativity or going the mile; they don’t see it as their priority or as part of their job description.  (If you want me to do more, pay me more.)

These place holders have fun, but are they really entitled to it.  ‘Sure’ I thought.  ‘But maybe just enough to say they had fun.’  But then I thought, ‘What if that is living for them?’  And things just kinda clicked.  What if they’re fun was spent doing something that I found completely uninteresting.  Which is, of course, something completely possible. 

And I leave it to you.  Is what you are doing:  Reading a book, hunting, fishing, mud-bogging, crocheting, making kilts (thanks Barbara) or doing something – Anything that is interesting to you.  Is this your life – or are you just holding a place for someone to fill.  Decide before someone decides for you.  

Thursday Tales Presents: The Fall (Part 1)

I hope you enjoyed Fellow Othello, a take off of Shakespeare's story.  In our latest Thursday Tales I hope to give you a piece of small action from a potential tragedy.  I won't give away the ending but here's a taste of the story.  More to follow.....

THURSDAY TALES Presents:

THE FALL (Part 1)

“I’ve got to get out of these clothes – fast.” I thought to say but couldn't.  The light leaking through the water began to fade.   The water was surrounding me and I was quickly sliding further down into the darkening abyss.  The weight of my cloths held back my arms as I struggled to keep from going deeper; the intensity of the cold slowly sapping away my strength from me.  Fatigue began to take hold as every movement made my arms and legs feel heavier, becoming more clumsy as I struggled.

With all my strength I tried to kick, only to be met with a wince of pain from my left leg. It must have broken when I fell.  I struggled on.   Despite this, there was a detached feeling to the whole scene. My mind struggled to stay focus as reality seemed to shift.  I looked down and saw my fingers fumbling with the buttons on my shirt, trying and failing to undo all the buttons as I tried to get out of the shirt.

Instinct took over as I kicked off my shoes, and then tried to wiggle out of my pants, made even more difficult by the pain shooting though my leg.  The pain from my leg intensified, bring me the clarity that I needed. Then the panic came. 

I couldn't breathe, and I needed air.  All I had in my lungs was the breath I had caught as I tumbled from deck of my yacht.  My last image was of my wife, a wicked smile on her face, with Randall standing slightly behind her holding one arm back.  Randall had been the best man at my wedding, last month, my best friend since college. As I hit the water the last sound I heard was the splash of the water mingled with a woman’s scream.

I knew that I was doomed, that I would die in this watery place.  I continued to kick, but the pain that had brought me back to reality before failed.  I no longer had feeling in my legs.  As I prepared to meet my maker I did so with a clear understanding that I had done all I could for those I would leave behind.  A peace settled over me.

My brothers, sisters and parents would be well taken care of because of the generous pension that I had put aside to take care of them after I had made my first hundred million.  The lawyers would get a piece of the action, but his family would be guaranteed a future. They would not be wanting.

My wife would be satisfied, all the life insurance on me would go directly to her, totaling nearly half of my overall wealth.  My misfortune would help add to her fortune.  Making her one of the wealthiest women in the world.  My only regret is not having children.  I would have liked to -.  My thinking paused.

The last image of my wife played within my head as delusions began to take over.  I thought of Clarice, my wife staring down at me with a wicked smile.  She was the most beautiful woman I had ever been with.  Her hair, a silk, her eyes pearls of beauty.  With or without make up she was a stunning woman.  I had instantly fallen in love with her.  What sane man wouldn't want to be with a beauty as stunning as she?  Before I had made my first million she would have been one of those women who would have been out of my reach.  I remember when I first asked her out that Randall, my best friend, had joked that she only wanted me for my money. 

We had been married only a short time, but I felt her love.  She would go on spending sprees, always bringing something back for me.  Sometimes Randall would accompany her.  There was nothing suspicious.  Randall was the only person that I could ever trust.  He had been a business partner of mine for years, a friend even longer.  Our college years were filled with escapades of how he would gain one conquest after another, no matter if it was sports or women, Randall was a man to be envied. 

And now I was the man to be envied.  Yes, Randall lived a comfortable life, but he did not have the financial resources that I had developed over the years, and he did not have the love of a beautiful woman like Clarice.  She loved me.  

To be Continued.......

Sunday Scribble

Sunday Scribble:  

What's in a word?

or

A History of the Flush Toilet!

The word 'crap' has many different connotations and meanings.  To some it's a good word to describe something not in the best of shape.  According to Mike Rowe (of Dirty Jobs and multiple voice overs including my ringtone of him singing Dr. Seuss's Mr. Grinch)  C.R.A.P.  means Collectibles, Rare And Precious.  While still others use the word CRAP as a term of endearment as in - "It maybe Crap, but it's all mine."  And let's not forget that it is the root of the name of the most famous plumber of all time; a person who has been mistakenly credited for creating the one invention that delineates Civilized Society from Barbaric Society -  Of course I am talking of no other than THOMAS CRAPPER.  Crapper has been correctly credited with inventing the .......BALLCOCK... which helps the flow and flushing of the ah.... crapper. Of course in old English and in parts of Great Britain today the word Crap refers to weeds, or rubbish or even chaff.  

Within the last hundred years or so the word has come to mean something as in dealing with human waste.  In the event that those of you who read this don't realize this I'm a man of history.   I soak up historical facts like a piece of bread sops up soup.  Yes, like that and then some.  I try not to be picky and discriminate about history - after all there is so much of it and it would be very easy to be selective.  Not me, however.  I enjoy hearing about the Ancient Greeks, Early Romans, Middle Age, Dark Age, Sun-Tzu, Mao, Stanley and Livingston, the Pharaohs, Olmecs, Mayans, Easter Island, Stonehenge, King Alfred the Great, Rollo, Xenophon and yes even CRAPper -  the list goes on.  

Long ago, before I had finished college but after I knew everything like a teenager, my now late mother told me of the one defining invention that separates us from the barbaric ages.  She explained how this single invention makes the world of difference in humanity's growth.  It's invention and subsequent improvements helped to prevent disease, improve lifestyles of people and changed the way that the word 'wealth' was used to define people.  

Of course the obvious avoidance of pestilence, she explained, was but the way to prevent disease.  Filth could now travele down the pipe and out of the home. No longer was the average person forced to dump their - ah crap - (i.e. rubbish, weeds and other leavings) out the window to the small gutter that ran down the street.  The gutter which would be filled up and only emptied by the next rain storm, all of which would end up in the river that ran through or by the town.  

When the diseased filth gets flushed down the crapper it flows through the pipes,down to the sewage system of the city and eventually ends up in that river.  The waste then flows down river getting mixed in with the sediment, water, river banks or simply flows to the next town.  Of course this system is only truly beneficial for those closer to the head waters of the river or those rich folks furthest from the water - so just don't go swimming.  

According to those who know, history's definition of wealth has changed repeatedly over the eons.  Early on, it was the amount of sheep or other animals which you had in your tribe as you roamed the lands. As societies settled into more structured civilizations, pasture and farm land size mattered.  This changed to include the amount of gold or precious metals you could use to shape into things to sell or use to defend yourself with - i.e. weapons of war such as the sword or pike.  Some cultures looked at the number of camels while others looked at the size and shape of your ships because it meant you could send more materials to sell on the backs of the camel or keel of a ship.  This all changed again with Crapper and his popularity among the English gentry.  

My mother explained that when Edward VII ordered Crapper to outfit one of his homes he gained national prestige and made everyone want his work, the then contemporary version of what we know more popularly in our vernacular as the flush toilet, water closet or as some know it - their reading seat - and if living the movie THIS IS FORTY (33 seconds in) - your chance to play Words With Friends.  This single act of Edward VII redefined wealth and what made you wealthy.  The flush toilet had reached it's ascendancy.  

Whatever your point of view on the word, keep in mind some simple facts.  Be thankful for Thomas Crapper, and that the word crap means more then crap.    

Until next time - make sure you check back Thursday for the conclusion of A FELLOW OTHELLO.

A FELLOW OTHELLO!

A FELLOW OTHELLO!

“I cannot believe that they are dating,” Jenny said as she was crossing the quad.

“It’s disgusting isn’t it,” Gale said, her face crinkled up.  “It makes me sick.”

“I know,” Jenny said and then opened her mouth and stuck her finger into her mouth imitating someone puking. 

Both girls were shaking their head as they walked past the couple sitting at the park bench.  It was lunch at Roosevelt Middle School, and it was a sunny beautiful day.  The grass that the girls walked on was a rich green, the trees scattered around the grassy area providing shade with their leaves completely grown.  It was the height of the spring and a time when love was in the air. 

“What really burns me is that I thought Barbara was arranging a double date with her boyfriend and Tommy and me,” Jenny said.   “Next weekend we were supposed to see that new movie that was coming out, the romance story.”

“Yeah, well looks like that’s a big FAT FAIL,” Gale said.  “Those two look like -,” Gale paused as she was looking over her shoulder at the couple.  “Yep, there it is,”  Gale said with a squeal.  “They’re swapping some spit.”

Jenny looked over her shoulder and couldn’t help but be shocked and disappointed at what she saw. 

“I can’t believe it.” Jenny said.  “I would have thought that he would have better taste than that, that foreigner.”

“I know,” said Gale.  “I’m pretty sure that slut is the one who I think has been chasing Jimmy.” Gale’s voice was filled with anger and hatred.  “We were supposed to spend all night on the phone last night but when I called him he didn’t answer.”

“No way,” Jenny said.  “I don’t think that’s enough to think that he’s cheating with that hootsie tootsie Rachel.” Jenny paused.  “OMG, they’re kissing again.”

Gale looked over at the couple.

“Tommy could do so much better,” Gale said.  “So after I called Jimmy’s house I talked to his little brother who told me that Jimmy was on the phone with some girl whose name began with an R.”

“No way,” Jenny said her face shocked.

“And so I tried calling Rachel to check, and when I did it said her cell phone was busy,” Gale said.  “I can’t believe Rachel is trying to steal Jimmy.  I’m going to make sure she regrets that.”

“Cell phones don’t get busy,” Jenny said, trying to calm her friend down.

“Yes they do,” Gale paused.  “But only if they’re on a three way call.”

“You mean that hootsie tootsie was on the phone with Jimmy and somebody else,” Jenny asked.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Gale said.  “She probably had someone listening to the phone call as she seduced my boyfriend.”

“B**ch,” Jenny said in a dark voice. “We have got to do something about her.”

“Don’t get yourself all worked up Jenny,” Gale said as she patted Jenny on the back.  “I have a plan that will get us both what we want.  Her mind had been working all night and day on finding some way to get revenge.

***

The couple sitting at the bench were average looking in most respects.  Tommy, with his blond hair contrasted nicely with the young girl he was kissing.  Rachel’s jet black hair and Mediterranean skin color accented the young man’s fair features.  Her poke a dot dress reached down to just above her knees as she sat.  His khaki shorts with loose fitting polo shirt along with her comfortable outfit made the couple not only seem comfortable with each other, but comfortable in their own skin.  They were cute together.

As they pulled away from each other from their first kiss they both had a smile.  Both looked away shyly.  The boy’s braces could just be made out from the rest of his face.  For the most part they were difficult to see because of the model used by the orthodontists, see through. 

“I think you are awesome,” Rachel said. 

“Thanks,” Tommy said back.  “I think you’re pretty awesome too.  And I do mean Pretty.”  He smiled that way someone does who has braces and has forgotten that they’re wearing them. 

Rachel reached up and stroked the side of his cheek, not caring to notice the braces. 

“That was very nice of you last night,” Rachel said.  “Jimmy and I really needed the help with the math.”

“Thanks, but you were the one who had three way calling.” Tommy said.  “And I think you were the one who had the area formula memorized not me.”

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch.  At Roosevelt only the eight graders were aloud out on the quad after they ate their lunch.  It was one of the only perks they had as the eldest students on campus.  The group of eight graders on the small field on the side of the cafeteria headed into the building; Tommy and Rachel were holding hands.

***

“As you all know in two days we will be going to the Observatory and if you haven’t handed in your paperwork you will not be able to come,”  Mr. Braker said.  “Which means that you will have to stay here and do some other work that I warn you will be very unpleasant.”

The science room had the science islands with the drawers for storing supplies and high stools allowing the students to see the top of the black toped islands.  There was a faucet in the center of each island.  Along the walls were cabinets with glass fronts, allowing students to see the instruments and other items stored there.

Mr. Braker was a small man who had big thick glasses.  He had the look of a man who was continually angry at the world, no matter who you were he hated you.   He was handing out a set of worksheets and talked as he walked around the room, scanning and looking at students and what they were doing. 

“This sheet will prepare you for the field trip,” he looked down at Jimmy who was sitting towards the back.  “So, I expect everyone to hand this in, even you Jimmy.”

“Yes sir,” Jimmy said automatically.  Jimmy had already run afoul of Mr. Braker and didn’t want to upset the old man again.  He was already in trouble for something that was written on his chair that Mr. Braker blamed on him.

“Just because your friend’s father is a member of the Town Council doesn’t mean that you are exempt from facing consequences,” Mr. Braker, who had run for Town Council had lost to Tommy’s dad the year before in a very tight race for town council.  Knowing that Jimmy was friend with Tommy had made Jimmy a target in this science class like Tommy was in another one of the science classes that Mr. Braker taught. Still, it didn’t mean that Jimmy wouldn’t try and trip up the science teacher.

Throughout the class Gale, who was sitting in the front row was passing notes to Jenny, the girl who was sitting behind her.  Notes with, “I’m bored” double underlined, or “Did you see the eyebrows on this guy,” or “Braker – it’s more like NERD”.   As middle schoolers go, the conversation was almost tame.  No foul language and of course, meaningless to anyone over the age of fourteen.   Gale was also passing similar style notes to Cassie who was sitting next to her.

Unbeknown by the girls passing notes, they were getting some helpful assistance from Jimmy as the whole time Mr. Braker was walking around the room he was so focused on Jimmy and everything he did wrong that Mr. Baker never noticed the note passing from the student who he thought was his best.

When the class broke up into pairs, Mr. Braker put Cassie and Gale together as partners.  Mr. Braker considered the two students to be his best students in this class and knew that they would be finished before everyone else.  During the experiments they talked about different things, but eventually the conversation turned towards the student council.

“I overheard that you’re the person who’s going to get to replace the kid that was class vice president but had to move,” Gale said to Cassie.

“Yeah, Mr. Fuddles told me that Rachel, as the class president and him decided that I was going to replace Delbert as the class vice president,”  Cassie said as she handed over the beaker of water to get heated.

“Congratulations,” Gale said.  “Do you think that Rachel will actually let you do anything?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t she,” Cassie asked, her face tilted in that unsure way.

“It’s really not my place to say,” Gale said, trying to act innocent and getting away with it because Cassie was more interested in Gale’s statement. 

“No, I want to know,” Cassie said.  “You can’t say that and not explain.”

“As long as you remember that you asked,” Gale said, her voice and posture filled with contrition.  “Otherwise I would never have said anything.”

“GO ahead already,” Cassie said, turning the heat up on the beaker.

“Well, I overheard Rachel and Mr. Fuddles talking about how they wanted you because they figured you wouldn’t fight them as much as your competition would.”  Gale had heard no such thing; she hadn’t even been in the same wing of the school, but it would make Cassie think that she was helping her out, and it could create so much potential entertainment to see Cassie squirm. 

She only knew about Cassie’s appointment because she heard a couple of teachers talking about it in the hallway on the way to class.  It struck her immediately that it would be a great way to get some attention if she just changed the story around a bit.

“Really,” Cassie said, in that voice that was both haughty and concerned.  “So who did they mean by my ‘competition’.”

“You don’t know,” Gale asked.  Gale looked both ways as if she was checking for anyone to overhear.  Cassie, unsure what was going on did the same in that halfhearted way.  Moving close to Cassie so that there was no air between them, she took her thumb and pointed to the table behind them.  “It was Jenny, she so wanted the job.  All she’s been talking about since she heard Dillie was leaving was that she wanted the job.”  This wasn’t a lie, Jenny had wanted the vice-president job last year when she had lost the election.  This was the best way to tell a lie.  Tell a partial truth so that whoever you’re talking to believes the whole lie.

Cassie turned her head and looked at the lab table behind her; it was a cold calculated look.

***

Jenny and Gale walked close whispering to each other, keeping their voices low enough so that only they could hear.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Jenny said.  “You are some type of genius, but aren’t you worried about Fuddles?” Gale hadn’t told Jenny about the conversation with Gale, keeping it simple, as a backup plan or just some good fun after everything was done.

Mr. Fuddles was the vice principal, an elderly man who been with the school since it was built nearly thirty years before.  If paper was made by Gucci, then his hair would be the equivalent.  It was a startlingly bright white that was so decorative that you thought he spent most of his day combing his hair.   

“That old idiot,” Gale said.  “My dad describes him as the guy whose about as sharp as a dull pencil.  This plan is fool proof, guaranteed to work.”

“Good, cause the day of the trip to the observatory is coming up and that would be the best place to make our plan work.”

“I agree, but let’s see if we can create a bit of stir tomorrow at lunch,” Gale explained.

“Cool,” Jenny said.  “I can’t wait.”

Wanna continue reading on to Part 2 of A FELLOW OTHELLO  Then Click HERE!