Tag Archives: murder

IT WAS ALL IN A DAY’S WORK

At first, she felt terrified. Yet, she still held onto the hope that she could survive by some large or small miracle. As she stood there, she became immersed in her thoughts about what had led her to this desperate moment in her life.

Bank Robber

It all began on a day so ordinary that she could barely recall it. Except for the fact that on her way home, she stopped at her bank to deposit a check. And just as she was about to leave, she turned around to say goodbye to her friend Teresa, who worked at the bank as a teller. And she saw Teresa’s eyes suddenly open wide with terror.

Helen turned quickly around to see why Teresa looked so frightened. And at that moment, Helen knew her life would never be the same again. In front of her stood three men wearing masks on. And each was holding a gun and was pointing them at the tellers. The tallest one yelled out, ” the first person who hits the alarm button will be dead before they take their finger off the button. And then I will kill everyone in the bank.”

Helen had no clue how one should act in such a situation where their very life was at risk of ending at any moment. And where they didn’t have any control over what may or may not happen.

Then one of the customers who was standing in line attempted to call the police on their cell phone. And one of the robbers shot him in the middle of his forehead. And he dropped to the cold, tile floor like a bag of sand, slowly and then a thud when his bloody head hit the floor.

 About thirty people, including the tellers, were in the main room of the bank. And they all gasped as one. She had never seen anyone murdered before in her entire life. And she was seventy-one years old. She felt filled with anger, hatred, and fear all at once.

The bank robber who shot the man screamed out, “I want all the remaining employees to get out here immediately and hit the ground. If anyone attempts to call the police or get out the door, they will die in the same way that this fool did. If anyone texts the police or anyone else, I will shoot that person and the person standing closest to them. Is that understood?” We are going to collect all of your cell phones, so put them down next to your feet. No funny business. Do you understand?”

Everyone nodded their heads, and then everyone took out their phones and put them down on the floor. All the employees came marching out and laid down on the cold, hard tile floor. There was muffled crying from several people that were lying prostrate. “Everyone better shut up, or this will be the last day of your lives. Your lives mean nothing to me. It will be like swatting an annoying fly. Do you understand?”

Everyone nodded and then covered their heads with their arms folded over them. About half of them began saying a prayer, including a few who had been devout atheists for most of their lives.

And then the same man who had threatened their lives said, ” I want the manager of the bank to come forward, and you better not lie or try to manipulate me. A rotund man with a wisp of dark hair came forward. He was visibly shaking, and he took several deep breaths and said,” My name is Howard Hudson. I’m the manager of this bank. And my first obligation is to keep my employees and my customers safe. I will do whatever you tell me to do to that end. Do not injure or kill anyone else. I will cooperate in any way that I can.”

“I’m glad you understand how serious this situation is and will cooperate. Because if you do not cooperate completely, I will start by shooting you in both legs, and then I will start killing your employees one by one. I know that early this morning, you had a large amount of cash delivered to the bank.”

I want you and the assistant manager to go to the vault and retrieve that money. You will be accompanied by one of my men. Be aware that this man is a trained killer. And if either one of you tries anything. You will never take another breath, you will never see your family or loved ones ever again. Do you understand? In addition, I want all the doors locked from the inside and put a notice on the front doors that the back is temporarily closed. Do not try to get anyone’s attention outside the bank. Or I will shoot the assistant bank manager. I believe his name is Oliver Winchester.”

“Yes, I understand. We will fully cooperate.”And then one of the robbers, who looked like he would kill someone for staring at him the wrong way, stepped forward and pointed his gun at the manager and the assistant manager and said, “move, don’t even think about doing anything stupid. It would just make my day to kill both of you. Do you understand?”

They both nodded in unison. And double-timed it to the vault. They looked straight ahead and were afraid to take a deep breath. They were terrified. Mr. Hudson, the bank manager, was sweating profusely and having difficulty taking a deep breath. He felt light-headed. He tried calming down. He tried to answer the robber but wasn’t able to speak. His mouth was dry, and it felt like his tongue wasn’t operating in any normal way. So, he just nodded his head up and down.

Meanwhile, the bank customers stared straight ahead, not looking at one another. Hoping that they would see their family again, and not knowing what would happen next.

The older woman stood there, transfixed by her situation. She had always been able to navigate her way through life. And this situation made her extremely angry. And so, she began thinking about what was the best way to get out of this situation alive. She concentrated on remaining calm and breathing deeply. She decided to take one moment at a time. People often ignored her because of her age and how fragile and helpless she appeared.

But the fact was she had never been helpless. She had lived a long time, and she understood people and their behavior better than they did. She was a retired psychotherapist. She had spent her whole life studying human nature. She understood how people acted impulsively at times.

People who made a living from stealing from others who were wealthier than they or those who stole from a huge organization like a bank had a sense of entitlement. Because they felt like they deserved to have money, and therefore they didn’t have a problem stealing from a bank or from the rich. They felt they deserved it and had every right to steal it. They didn’t have a conscience or any sense of right or wrong. They acted and reacted. They are sociopaths. And they often act out without thought.

But, clearly, robbing a bank is not someone does in the spur of the moment. It has been planned. These robbers knew in advance of the huge amount of money that was transported to the bank that day. Someone on the inside was most likely working with them. She decided that they might be the weak link, and she would observe the bank employees’ behavior.

As Helen stood there contemplating what was her best course of action, she noticed that one of the tellers, who she had never seen before, was looking particularly nervous. Her face was flushed, and she kept wiping her brow with a tissue. And then she raised her hand and waved it back and forth. As if she was trying to get someone’s attention.

One of the robbers yelled at the top of his voice, ” Put your hand down before you don’t have a hand anymore.”

“I feel sick. I think I’m going to throw up. Can I please go to the bathroom?”
The robber looked at her like she had lost her mind. “As I said, put your arm down before I shoot it off. I don’t want to hear another sound now. Sit down on the floor. And shut your trap. Or I’ll shut it permanently. Got it?”

She nodded her head up and down. Her face was a particularly unpleasant shade of gray. And then she slumped to the floor in a heap. A young woman said, “can I go over and take a look at her to see if she is alright? I’m a nurse.”

“Sit the hell down, lady, and shut up. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head.

Helen said to no one in particular, “I believe I can be of some help to you. Im a therapist. And if you allow me, I have a short exercise that helps people who are under stress to calm down. It would prevent any further unfortunate events to occur. It will only take a few minutes.

“OK, lady. Come over here, and let’s see what you got up your sleeve.”

” As I said, I’m a therapist, and in my work, sometimes I used hypnotism to enable my patients to reach a deep level of relaxation to allow them to open up to me. And discover what is at the root of their problems. It only takes a short time. I think if I do this, you will have no further need to kill anyone and allow you to get on with your robbery and escape. What do you say?”

“Yes, go ahead and do it, and no funny business or you will be the next one to die. Do you understand?”
“Of course I understand. I’m going to go to the center of the room and ask all the bank customers to stand in a circle around me. And then I will induce them into a kind of sleep, but they will actually become deeply relaxed. And they will no longer be engaged in whatever is going on around them. And this will allow you to leave as soon as possible.”

“Alright, go ahead and do it. But keep in mind I can shoot you or anyone else if you do anything that will interfere.”

“Yes, yes. I understand. I will begin now.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Dr. Helen Orinoco. I am a psychotherapist. I help people relax so that they are better able and deal with stressful situations. I am just going to give to some prompts, and if you follow them, this event will come to a more peaceful conclusion. And no one else will lose their life, and you will all be able to go home to your families. I would like to begin by asking you to all stand in a circle around me. And then try to follow my instructions.

Dr. Orinoco began by saying, “please, everyone, take a deep breath and close your eyes, now roll your eyes upward under your closed eyelids. Take slow, even breaths. You will all return home safely to your families if you listen to me and follow my instructions. That’s right, slow, even breaths, you are beginning to feel much calmer. Try to imagine that you are some place safe, at home, or perhaps sitting on the beach watching the waves slowly flow over the sand.”

“That’s good. I can see you are all feeling sleepy and calm. You are safe. Nothing can touch you where you are now. Your confidence flows from within, and no one can hurt you now. You are visualizing a place where you feel safe and loved, and relaxed. You feel calm and confident. No one can hurt you. You are safe. Breathe deeply, slow, even breaths. Your minds are focused and clear.

And then, the next thing that the customers and the bank employees realized was the Doctor saying, “you can open your eyes now, you are safe, there is no more danger. Imagine it is three or four months down the road from this terrible event, and you are home and safe. I’m going to count to five, and then you are going to open your eyes, one, two, three, four, five. You are now fully awake now. And all is well. You feel safe and confident. Open your eyes.”

And when they opened their eyes one by one, they saw that the robbers were on their way out the door in handcuffs. The injured and those that had been killed were no longer in the room. Some people started crying in relief. And others just looked from one to another.

One of the police officers was talking to Dr. Orinoco. “Dr., I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. What happened?”

“Well, officer, I am a psychotherapist, and I use hypnotism in my work. And I realized that if I was able to hypnotize everyone, including the robbers, I could end this nightmare without any further violence. Most people are highly suggestible. Especially if they are open to reducing whatever is causing them to be afraid or tense. So, once I saw that everyone, including the robbers, was under hypnosis. I called you and your fellow officers to come here. As I knew none of them would become aware of what was going on until I told them it was safe to do so.”

“Well, maybe you should come to work for the police when we have this type of hostage situation. And in addition, you need to come and make a statement of exactly what occurred today, including who was the shooter.”

“Of course, I will follow you to the station. I would like to add that learning to self-hypnotist yourself would be of great benefit to police officers since their lives are so stressful. I would like to talk to your commander if I may.”

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DOG EARRED BOOKS

I live in Raleigh, North Carolina in a small townhouse community mostly populated by senior citizens. I started a book club in my little community. And we spend a great deal of our time visiting all the book shops in the area. If we go to a bookshop more than an hour away, we hire a driver to take us in the Community van to drive us back and forth. So, that we can spend the time discussing the latest books we have been reading.

Dog Earred Books

I have to admit that I’ve always been a big reader. For years and years, I read nothing but horror. I have always been drawn to the dark side. I read Lovecraft when I was a teenager. And then went on to read Anne Rice, Stephen King, and Dean Koontz. And I almost forgot to mention Edgar Allen Poe. Oh yes, Edgar Allen Poe and the Tell-Tale Heart. Reading that poem kept me awake for nights on end. The cold-blooded murder of an old man simply because he had a pale blue eye with cataracts gave the wood-be murderer the creeps and reason to kill a sleeping old man.

I too have a vivid imagination. No one that looks at me would ever imagine the things that go on in my mind and my imagination. If I ever brought my thought and nightmares out in the open you would all run from me in terror.

Oh, don’t mind me I just let my imagination run away from me again. I had some spare time while I was waiting for the van to come to pick up me, and my fellow seniors to take a short trip to visit the Dog-Eared Book Store. I have to say that used book stores are the best. You never know what treasures you’ll find. This bookstore sits in a warehouse area. If you didn’t know it was there you would never find it.

Although it was a relatively short ride to the book store we had a lively discussion about horror writers. I brought up Lovecraft. And can you believe it two of our most recent book club members had never read him? In my opinion, The Call of Cthulhu was his best book and the most influential work. The story centers on an ancient dragon that lived in the sea that somehow implants itself into the sub-conscience of human minds and slowly causes them to go insane.

I couldn’t impress upon them the importance of this work by Lovecraft. He didn’t know it at the time but he was creating a whole new writing genre. I was about to explain the importance of this new genre when the van driver said, “Ok everyone we will be staying there no longer than an hour and a half. Please keep that in mind. You have a reservation for lunch at a nearby restaurant and you don’t want to miss that. Meet you here in an hour and a half. Did everyone hear that? Ok, see you then.”

I have a tendency to become somewhat verbose and pedantic when I start discussing horror writers. And I heard more than one person sigh with relief when the driver made the announcement that we had arrived at our destination.”

As we entered the door to the book shop, I couldn’t help but take a deep breath. There isn’t a smell that I enjoy more than the smell of old books. It is intoxicating to say the least. As I walk by the proprietor I say, “hello Stanley, do you have any new books set aside for me?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do. I have to get them from the back. When you check out, I’ll show them to you. Have fun until then, Merrill.”

“Really, that’s awesome Stanley. I look forward to reading them. This is turning out to be such a great morning. See you in a little while, Henry.”

And off I went to peruse the stacks. Nothing is more exciting to me than searching through aisle after aisle of books, whether it is in a book store or a library. It’s my idea of heaven. So off I went to look in the horror and science fiction section. As I was flipping through a book, I overhear someone on the next aisle over talking about his plans for the weekend coming up. I wasn’t intentionally listening but I couldn’t help but hear them since they were speaking loudly.

I was about to shush them when I heard one of them say, “and then I’m going to hit her over the head and tie her up and take her to the cabin in the woods. And that will be the last of that bitch. No one will ever hear from her again. And then the other person said,” keep it down everyone is going to hear you.”

I try to peak through the stacks of books to see whose speaking, but at that moment they start moving down the aisle to the back of the store and I can’t see who they are. I can’t say I recognize their voices at all. Maybe they weren’t with my group. Good grief, what should I do? Ignore it, pretend I didn’t hear a thing? Tell the bookstore manager, or maybe I should call the police?

I tried to calm down, my heart was pounding a mile a minute. I was afraid I was going to pass out or maybe throw up. I don’t know which is worse. And then I heard the first guy who spoke says,” so can you help me out here. I don’t think I can work it out by myself? I understand if you don’t want any part of it. But if you could possibly find a way you could. It would be a lifesaver.”

And then I hear the other guy answer. “Well, the way I see it you don’t have any real choice. You have to get rid of that character. She’s really become an issue. Best to be rid of her and you can start over. That’s my advice. I’ll talk to you a little later. I have my own issue to take care of before we head back home. I’ll talk to you in the van.”

“What? Oh sure, no problem. I’ll consider your advice. Meanwhile, I’ll keep looking around and see if anything calls out to me. I’m almost out of books to read.”

“Really, well I hope a solution comes to you. Sometimes it helps if you bounce ideas off of someone who’s not emotionally involved with the problem.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give it some thought. But what I know for sure is, I can’t live with this for much longer. I have to deal with her one way or another.”

Merrill feels like she’s losing her marbles. Maybe she’s imagining the whole thing. She goes back to perusing the aisles. But the words she overheard keep coming back in her head, “and then I’m going to hit her over the head and tie her up and take her to the cabin in the woods. And that will be the last of that bitch. No one will ever hear from her again. And the other person says,” keep it down everyone is going to hear you.”

She just can’t ignore what she heard or pretend she didn’t hear it. Some woman’s life is at risk. She has to do something and better sooner than later.

Merrill decides to go outside for a few minutes to clear her head. And try to make some sense out of everything that just happened. She now knows that the two people she overheard are a part of her reading group. She knows that one of them is intent on murdering some woman that they despise. She considers her options aside from calling the police. And finally, she decides that she’s going to stick to these two would-be killers and try to talk some sense into them. If they are unwilling to listen, she will threaten to call the police, the FBI, and the CIA if necessary. Whatever it takes.

The next hour seems like it would never pass. She kept following the two killers and making sure that they stayed in the bookstore the whole time and didn’t wander off somewhere. Maybe the woman that the assassin wanted to eliminate was in their reading group. Merrill couldn’t bear the thought that they want to kill any of her lady friends. The more she thought about it the angrier she became. She kept having the obsessive thought, “if they try to harm a hair on one of my friend’s I will hit them over the head with a hot frying pan one of those old cast iron ones that her mother used to have. That would put a real kibosh on their blood-thirsty plans. She tried to stop thinking that thought, but she couldn’t stop it.

Finally, it was time to leave and Merrill went up to the front of the store and asks Stanley the store manager/owner to make the announcement that it is time to check out. That the van would be leaving in fifteen minutes. Stanley says, “Merrill do you still want to get those books I told you about earlier?”

“Oh no, I mean yes, here’s my credit card. After I get everyone rounded up to check out I’ll pick the books up and retrieve my credit card. I look forward to seeing you again soon, take care.”

“Oh sure of course, Merrill, see you soon.” Stanley watches as Merrill walks around the store tapping each person on their right shoulder and telling them it’s time to leave. Stanley could hear a sigh after he tapped each bibliophile on the shoulder. Stanley really loved his customers. They all shared his obsession with books. Stanley was one of the most content people on the planet. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living. Stanley started ringing up Merrill’s purchases and putting them in a bag with her receipt. He put her credit card to the side of the cash register. Where no one could see it except him and he wouldn’t forget to return it to her.

After Merrill reminded everyone that they only had fifteen minutes to gather all their books and check out she walked to the front of the store and was about to leave when Stanley called out to her,” Merrill, don’t forget your books and credit card.”

“Oh, sorry Stanley, I don’t know where my head is today. I’m going to be waiting outside in the van. I’ll be looking forward to reading these books. No doubt that you have chosen books that I will enjoy reading. You know me so well. See you next time. Take care.”

Stanley stared at Merrill as she walked out the door and stepped into the van. And he thought she was acting really weird today. But then the first customer came up to the counter with a stack of books and Stanley soon forgot about Merrill.

Merrill waited in the first seat behind the van driver’s seat she wanted to see where the murderer was going to sit. Not to mention his accomplice who seemed as if murdering some hapless woman like a fine solution to an annoying woman. Merrill was going to sit behind this evil duo. She just couldn’t believe this was happening. She could hardly sit still. About two minutes everyone started making their way to the van and filing in one by one. The assassins were about to step into the van. Merrill’s heart was beating a million miles an hour. She started to feel light-headed. She really had no plan other than listening to what they said and confronting them. Sweat began to pour down her face and armpits. She opens the window and breathes in some fresh air.

The two walks by Merrill and she got up and followed them and after they sat down, she sat directly behind them. And Merrill sat up in her seat as straight as she could and turned her head in their direction and began to listen intently. At first, they seem to be discussing the books they had just purchased, and then as soon as everyone was seated in the van the driver said, “ok, people onward and upward to The Chinese Buffet for lunch.”

Everyone cheered because who doesn’t love a Chinese Buffet, all you can eat restaurant. After a few minutes, they quieted down and talked quietly or stared out the window as they made their way to the restaurant. The two accomplices were chatting away as if rubbing someone out was an everyday event. The heavyset murderer said, so I think I’ll do it tonight, the sooner the better. What’s the point in waiting any longer? It will be a lot of work, but it has to be done.”

And the tall skinny accomplice says” you’re right, don’t be afraid to eliminate her, you know you’ll be relieved when it is all over.”

And it was at that moment that Merrill realizes that she has heard enough, she can’t sit still and listen to these two nightmares of human beings discuss killing some poor woman just because they don’t like her for some reason.

Merrill jumps up out of her seat and yells at the top of her voice,” what the bloody hell do you two think you are up to? I know what you are planning. You are going to murder some poor woman that you think is in your way. I’m calling the police and they are going to drag your sorry asses to the slammer and throw away the key.”

Everyone in the van including the “would-be murderers” look around to see who Merrill is yelling out. And they see she is pointing at the Smith Brothers. The Smith brothers turn around and look at Merrill like she has lost her mind. “Are you talking to us?”

“Yes, of course, I’m talking to you, I heard what you said in the bookstore that you are going to eliminate some woman that woman over the head, and take her to the woods and that would be the last that anyone would ever see that bitch again.:

Everyone in the van was staring at Merrill with eyes and mouths wide open. And then the Smith Brothers started laughing so hard they couldn’t catch their breath.

Merrill shook her head in amazement. And started yelling again, “what the hell is so fricking funny. I’m going to call the cops right now?”

And she was about to do just that when the fat Smith brother said, “I’m not going to murder anyone.”

“Yes, yes, you are. I heard you with my own two ears. Don’t try to squirm out of it.”

“I’m not squirming out of anything. I’m attempting to write my first book. I’ve been an avid reader all my life and I decided that now is my opportunity to try my hand at writing. I had decided to get rid of one of the characters in my book because she wasn’t working out. That’s all. The end. Happy now Merrill?”

Merrill plopped down in her seat with her mouth hanging open. And sat for a moment or two and then said, “I guess I let my imagination run wild. I don’t know what else I can say except I would like to be the first one in line to buy your book. And then everyone started laughing and Merrill looked around and thought the only thing she could do after making a complete ass out of herself just joins in the laughing and that is what she did.

At lunchtime at the buffet that is all anyone could talk about and some of them even acted out the whole scene. And they would all start laughing again, including Merrill.

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CORONA VIRUS-MAY 30,, 2020

Here in North Carolina this week, we have had more than our share of rain. It has rained nearly every day during the past week. I’m an avid gardener, so I realize that if I want to enjoy flowers and vegetables growing in my garden, rain is necessary. Today it rained so much that the ground in my back yard is sodden. In NC, if you dig down to about ten inches, you will find red clay.

Calla Lillies - photo by Bridget Culver

Calla Lillies- photo by Bridget Culver

The clay inhibits moisture from going deep into the soil. And the accumulated rainfall after a week of rain just sits on top of that clay. When I go to my back yard, I wear boots. The first Spring after we moved here, we planted several young trees. One week it rained so hard one of the young trees, a beautiful dogwood just floated up out of its soil and fell over. I’ve never seen that happen before. We replanted it, but it didn’t survive.

Some people love rain, the way it sounds on the roof as it falls, the fresh smell after the storm. I, too, enjoy these things. But still, I love a sunny day so much more. I feel so happy when I look out the window and see the sun shining. It lifts my spirit.

Jalapeno – Photo by Bob Culver

Today it started to drizzle on my way to Animal Edventure. A thunderstorm is predicted at about 10:30 AM. I arrive at about 7:15 AM. And so, I think I can accomplish my work done before the rain starts. But the rain starts early. The bird building I work in has a metal roof, and the sound that the rain makes on the roof is tremendous. The parrots and Macaws love noise, and they increase their volume as the rain hitting the roof becomes louder. I have to go out of the building several times, and I am thoroughly soaked.

By this time, I accept that it will probably rain all day. I stop letting it bother me. I turn the radio on in the building. The only station that I’m able to tune in is a Country Station, not my favorite kind of music. But I go with it. The birds, including three Macaws, three cockatoos, and twenty parrots, all begin to chime in. They love the rain. And would probably love nothing more than to be out in the rain taking a shower. So all and all we had a good morning in the bird building, singing, and some screaming, screeching and talking.

After I took care of my parrots in the bird building, I go outside to feed the pheasants, chickens, and doves. They don’t seem to mind the rain either. I cleaned out all their water dishes and checked who needed more feed. And I rake out the waste, and I’m finished. I put all my tools away and walk out to my car. The sun shows its face. I was happy to see it even if it is only for a little while.

I hit the country road and start home. When I ‘m about one-half mile from Animal Edventure, I notice a Red-Tailed Hawk sitting on a post of a split rail fence. And flying over the hawk’s head is a wren who is repeatedly dive-bombing the hawks head, hitting it over and over. I realize the wren wants the hawk out of his territory. Possibly she’s protecting her nearby nest. I want to stop and take a picture, but I realize they would both fly away if I did. So, I just slowly drive by them and watch the show. The hawk ignoring the wren as if were little more than a gnat. And the wren unafraid and unrelenting in her desire to protect her nest and babies.

Nature is continuing to do its job, rain upon the earth, offering us the occasional glimpse of the sun, the wren protecting the future generation of wrens.

When I arrive home, I fill up the bird feeders in my yard while the sun still shines. As long as we live upon this planet, nature will continue to provide for the cycle of life. About an hour later, the heavy rain returns, and I watch the storm from the safety of my porch.

As I sit there on my porch chair, my dog Douglas jumps up next to me, and I pet his head. He’s happy that I’m home and is content to lie next to me and continue his nap.

As I sit there, I contemplate all the things that occurred during the past five days, and some of it is heartbreaking. A man’s life was lost because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his skin was not white. The city he lived in is in turmoil, and his community is angry and reacting.

It is a heartbreaking event, one that we have all heard too many times. I can’t imagine how this will resolve. I wonder how much longer it will take for America to recognize that the color of one’s skin is one small aspect of that person. Would you define a person’s worth by their eye color? This man’s future is forever gone. His family and friends will miss him for the rest of their lives.

The number of people that have died from the virus in America has risen to over 100,000 people. A number so large it’s hard to comprehend. But every single digit represents a single person who is forever lost to their family, their friends. Anything that they could have contributed to our society, to our planet is forever lost.

Anyone who states that the “numbers” aren’t that bad, is a person who does not value human life. A person that values “things” more than life. The accumulated loss of all that this 101thousand lives could have accomplished and could have enriched our lives is incalculable ways and will forever remain unknown. But the loss will be deeply felt for generations to come.

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REALITY BITES

My cat is pretty good at playing dumb, but it wasn’t clear that he knew anything. I had left my cat, Sloopy, at home because he hates staying at the vet’s or even at my mother’s house. I really believe he’s more attached to my house than he is to me. In any event, I hired my neighbor to come over twice a day and feed him and give him fresh water. And spent a half-hour every evening watching TV in my living room while Sloopy slept next to him on the couch.

Sloopy-Photograph by Bob Culver

Oh, I almost forgot he had to clean out the litter box every day and brush Sloopy because he is a long-haired cat that gets terrible mats. If he isn’t brushed out regularly, and believe me, that is a real nightmare. He hates being brushed and is prone to biting and nipping at the brusher. I have the scars to prove it.

Anyway, to make a long story even longer, I took a much-anticipated cruise to Alaska. I live in Los Angeles, and so I just hopped on a Princess Cruise ship right there at the port.

Things got off to a rough start, and I should have taken that as a sign. But not being all that superstitious, I thought I was having a string of bad luck, as per usual. Somehow, my reservation got screwed up. And I didn’t get the cabin I paid for. I got one so small that it was difficult closing the cabin door. Once both I and my suitcase were in the room. I ended up keeping my suitcase under the bed. And taking my clean clothes out one at a time and putting my dirty ones in a plastic bag inside the suitcase after I took them off.

One good thing was the food. I never took a cruise before, and I didn’t realize that the ship was just one big, floating restaurant. A floating restaurant with tiny bedrooms attached. I ate so much in the first few days that I could hardly zip any of my pants. It turned out the second half of the cruise. We had some rocky waters due to an unexpected change in the weather.

I felt a bit seasick during that leg of the trip and didn’t eat that much. Since I was alone on the cruise, and almost everyone else came with their mate, I found myself having my meals with an odd assortment of single people ranging in age from forty-something to eighty-something.

I admit I’m over sixty, but I still have plenty of life left in me. I can’t say I was looking for the love of my life. I had already had that, at least for a while, until the unfortunate divorce. I was hoping to meet the love of my life on my vacation. Didn’t happen, not even close. I did meet an interesting woman. She was eighty years old.

I met her the first evening when I went down to have dinner in the dining room called Last Call. She saw me wondering about looking for a place to sit down. I heard a booming voice calling out above the buzzing of all the other voices, “Hey, you, big guy, come here, come sit with us.”

I looked around,  trying to figure out who belonged to this foghorn of a voice. Then I saw a very small woman in lime green and shocking pink Mumu waving frantically at me from across the room.

Her name was Hermine, and she was quite a pistol and had me laughing my head off throughout most of the trip. Goes to show you shouldn’t judge a book by its wrinkled old cover.

I walked nonchalantly over there, and she said, “come on, come on, don’t be shy, have a seat. She looks at all the people around the table, all women, by the way.

“Look at what we have here, the only handsome single man on the ship. You remind me of a man I knew back in the late 1960s, got to know him quite well, as matter of fact, intimately, if you know what I mean.” At this point, she gives me a big wink and a salacious grin.  This was the moment I knew my luck had taken a turn for the better.

It turns out she had spent most of her life traveling with some kind of carnival. She had a lot of intriguing stories to tell of bearded ladies and a man tattooed who looked like a tiger, including having fangs put on his canine teeth. Not to mention, a set of Siamese twins joined at their backs, who never actually saw each other face to face but hated each other’s guts all the same.

But the strangest one of them all was the three-legged man, who had three functioning legs, except he couldn’t use the third one because it was several inches shorter than the other two. He had special ornate suits made to fit his unique physique. He had made a fortune exhibiting himself. He was from India and retired at thirty, a wealthy man in his home country. Where he is considered a celebrity, he fell in love with the then-shortest woman in the world, who was about thirty-six inches tall. I dare say they must have created quite a stir when they were walking along the streets of Calcutta.

After visiting Anchorage, a place in which I damn near lost my fingers, it was so cold. I also took a lot of digital pictures. I planned on boring my fellow members of my camera club at the next monthly meeting. I have taken over five hundred pictures, and I hope to show them all.  They had done the same thing to me many times over the years. Hermine kept me company as we hit a few of the typical tourist spots. The second day, she said, “OK, stretch, this isn’t my first trip around this rodeo. So I’m going to show you some of the, shall we say out of the, way sites, places only the people in the know, know about.”

For the next two days, I met some of the strangest people. I think they were people. And I saw some sights that I would never forget, no matter how hard I try. I’ll mention this one because I keep hoping if I tell enough people about it, I can release it from my memory.

We walked for about a half-hour to an alley that led to yet another alley and then to a back street called, You Ain’t In Kansas Anymore. I’m not shitting you here. I met a guy, well over seven-foot-tall, whose hobby was to “create” fantasy creatures from parts of different animals. One that is forever burned into my memory. It’s preserved under a glass globe and looks like it comes from another planet. It seems part beaver and part antelope, with lots and lots of sharp pointed teeth. I could write a book about the tour that Hermine took me on in those few short days, and maybe I will one day.

Let’s just say for now that it was a very memorable trip, and don’t ever make the mistake of judging a book or an old lady by her wrinkled old cover.

Eight days after I left LA, I arrived home and took a taxi to my apartment. It took about one hour because of the heavy rush hour traffic. I was looking forward to seeing Sloopy. Who heard me coming to the door as I wrestled with the sticky lock on my apartment door. I had bought him a little souvenir doll from Anchorage, and I hoped he would love it as much as I did. It was a stuffed cat wearing a tee shirt with; I survived the Ice Rivers in Alaska emblazoned across it.

I fumbled with the lock for a few minutes. I managed to pull the door open only to be assailed by the most putrefying smell as if something had died and was rotting. I prayed it was not my beloved Sloopy, and thank god it wasn’t.

Unfortunately, it was my neighbor and cat sitter, Mr. Bean. He was laid out on the kitchen floor, with his hand clutching at his chest. Sloopy was sitting near him, but not too near since he has a very sensitive nose.

Mr. Bean was dead, as dead can be. He had a weird expression on his face, unfortunately not a peaceful one. I felt his pulse in his neck and was met by a cold dead stare. Sloopy walked over to me calmly and rubbed against my trembling arm, and let out a loud “Meow.” I washed out his bowl and put some kibble out for him since his food dish was empty. He seemed relieved to see me, as I was him, but not under these distressing circumstances.

I reached over to my phone and dialed 911, and explained the unpleasant circumstances. They arrived shortly and questioned me in detail. The coroner arrived and concluded that Mr. Bean was indeed dead as if I had questioned that fact. He asked if anyone else was witness to his death, and I said, “Yes, of course, Sloopy, but it just doesn’t matter anymore because he is my cat and can’t tell you a thing.


THE BUS STOP

The rain is relentless, coming down hard and cold. Kathleen has been waiting for twenty minutes for her bus.  She’s chilled to the bone. Her feet are completely soaked. Her hair hangs limply, plastered to her face. Every time a car goes by, everyone at the bus stop moves back a foot or two. And then they move forward again.

Bus Stop by Jpleno

She looks at her fellow travelers. They’re a strange mix. She’s the youngest. There’s an ancient couple standing to the left of her.  She imagines that they have been married for fifty years or more. The man is very tall and gaunt with a handlebar mustache. He’s wearing a long raincoat that ends at the top of his goulashes. A steady stream of rainwater is dripping down from the brim of his hat. Kathleen imagines him wearing a top hat.

The frail wife, at least Kathleen believes that she’s his wife, has her arm locked in his bent arm. Perhaps she fears she’ll float away in the storm if she doesn’t hold tightly onto him. She has probably been holding onto him in much the same way since they first became a couple. The woman has a rain hat covering her short curly white hair. It’s one of those old-fashioned ones that fold like an accordion, and you keep it in a little plastic case in your pocket for the next rainy day. Kathleen’s great-grandmother used to sport one of those back in the day.

The old wife is wearing stockings that end above her knees and are held up by some sort of garter. Her black raincoat is tightly belted but keeps flapping open because she is missing the bottom two buttons. She has a strange expression on her face. Her lips pursed, and she looks like she is sucking on a lemon. Perhaps she hates standing in the rain. Kathleen certainly does.

A twenty-something dude is wearing skin-tight jeans and a fitted jacket. His boots look like snakeskin, ankle-high. He has a goatee and hair that is tight on the sides and bleached blond, and stands four inches high on the top. The rain had zero effect on his hair because it had so much product on it. He’s texting on his phone and seems oblivious to the rain and the people around him. Kathleen admires his audacity.

Kathleen takes a deep breath and then looks down the street for the bus. At that moment, she sees someone running at breakneck speed toward the bus stop.  Waving their arms frantically and yelling. At first, Kathleen believes that someone with mayhem on their mind must be chasing her. She can’t quite hear what the young woman is shrieking. She’s holding an umbrella aloft, but it has long since turned inside out. She arrives so abruptly at the bus stop that she skids to a halt. “Holy shit, I thought I was going to miss the damn bus again. If I’m late getting to work again, I’m toast.” She says this to no one in particular. However, she has everyone’s attention. Even the guy texting who looks at her momentarily and then looks back down at his cell phone. Kathleen feels a kinship with this woman. Her life is often on the edge of self-destruction.

Kathleen looks at her and says,” You haven’t missed the bus. It’s late. I hope it gets here soon.”

Umbrella girl says, ”Shit, it better get here soon. I can’t be late again this week.” Kathleen nods her head in agreement.

Five minutes go by, and then just as everyone is about to give up waiting for the bus, here it comes up the street and screeches to a stop. They all break out in a spontaneous “Hurray.” And start boarding the bus. There’re a few passengers aboard already. They all glare at the people boarding the bus. Then go back to sitting there quietly or just gazing out the window.

Kathleen looks from the front of the bus to the back. She has a fleeting thought that she’s on the Titanic. Unfortunately, she never had that little voice in her head that said no, don’t get on the bus, don’t go out with another loser. Don’t spend your last two dollars on a lottery ticket. Don’t wear a very low-cut blouse to work. Or if she ever did hear it, she never listened. And then the little voice gave up and stopped warning her of imminent death or dismemberment or looser alert. Kathleen was never one for self-reflection.

As the bus lurches forward on its trip to 55th and Broadway, Kathleen’s eyes slowly close, and she falls asleep. She never gets enough sleep. She stays up late every night, but she can never recall why, nor has she ever accomplished anything worth losing sleep. Still, she continues depriving herself of rest. In fact,  it was not unheard of for Kathleen to fall asleep at her desk while listening to music between being late and her mid-morning and afternoon naps. Kathleen’s job is at risk.

About halfway to her stop, a new passenger enters the bus and sits across from Kathleen. She is unaware, of course, because she has now entered the REM state of sleep and is dreaming. She has a reoccurring dream. She’s alone in a rowboat and is being taken out to sea by the current. The waves are becoming larger and larger, and she’s soaked. She swallows water and can’t breathe, and gasping for air. She yells out, “Help; I’m drowning. I’m drowning.” Just then, she feels someone grab her arm and roughly shake her.

“Hey, wake up. And while you’re at it. Shut the hell up.” It was a new passenger.

Kathleen’s eyes snap open, and she glares at the man. “What the hell, get your hands off me.”

The man has already lost interest in her. He’s staring out the rain-soaked window. He has his earbuds on, and the music is so loud that Kathleen can hear his heavy metal music blaring. It sounds like Paranoid by Ozzy Osbourn. Kathleen detests Heavy Metal. She recognizes it because her older brother was obsessed with it, and his bedroom was right next to her during her entire adolescence. Kathleen heard it until way after she tried to go to sleep for the night. Kathleen glares back at him, and she feels unreasonable disgust and hatred toward him, a total stranger.

The bus makes several more stops. Four more people step into the bus. And tight pants dude gets off and goes on his way. Kathleen’s ego feels slightly deflated after he walks by her without a second look.

A rough-looking middle-aged man comes aboard. He has his greasy hair pulled back into a low ponytail. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week or more. He has a drooping mustache that looks dyed and is growing out to its natural grey. He’s smoking. The bus driver says, ”Sorry buddy, you can’t smoke on a public conveyance. You’ll have to put that out.”

The man tosses his cigarette in the general direction of the bus driver’s feet. The driver gives the man a dirty look and stamps on the cigarette. The man walks down the center aisle and sits behind Kathleen. She thinks, what the frick? This is really turning into a shit day. I can’t wait until it’s over, and I haven’t even gotten to work yet. Well, at least I’m almost at work now. She closes her eyes and tries to block it all from her mind.

Kathleen is awakened once again by one of the new passengers who is sitting behind the bus driver. It appears that he is a regular on the bus. He’s having a loud and animated conversation with him. So much so that all the passengers can hear the conversation. Kathleen scowls at him to no avail since he seems oblivious to everyone’s presence except for his friend, who happens to be the bus driver. He’s rotund to the point of obesity.

In fact, he’s vigorously taking large bites out of a two-foot-long hoagie. While never stopping to chew. But he seems to be swallowing large mouthfuls of the hoagie whole like a shark. Occasionally, bits and pieces spew out of his mouth during his monologue. He looks for all the world like he just stepped out of a Wayback machine from 1965. He has long, unwashed hair in a braid. His face is embellished by a straggly, salt-and-pepper beard. His jeans are decrepit and are tight on his humongous gut.  He’s wearing a faded and shredded jeans jacket. He appears to have a massive doobie in his jacket pocket.

Kathleen hears the fat hippie telling the bus driver that his horse came in first and he won $500.00. The bus driver shoots him the high five, and then the hippie finishes off his hoagie. He sits back in his seat and closes his eyes, and falls asleep. His head wobbles from side to side and keeps time to the sway of the bus.

Kathleen thinks dear god, will we never get to my stop? She looks at her cell phone and realizes that there is no way she is going to get to work on time. They are at least ten minutes from where she gets off, and then she still has to walk another five minutes to her building. “Crap, goddammit.”

As Kathleen contemplates what lies she will tell her boss for being late once again, she hears a commotion coming from the back of the bus. She turns and looks behind her. It appears as if the Old Man and Old Wife are having some disagreement. And then she hears someone yelling, “Stop that, get your hands off her now.” Kathleen realizes it is Umbrella Girl. And she’s pummeling the old man with her inside out, soaking, wet umbrella.

Someone screams, “For the love of Pete, call the police.” Then the rough-looking man comes over and physically pulls the old man’s hands off of the old woman’s neck. Who is by now all but unconscious from lack of oxygen. Her head falls to the side, and lays limply on her bony shoulder.

The bus driver pulls abruptly over to the side of the road. He screams,” “Will everyone please calm the hell down?”

He heads to the back of the bus to have a look at whatever happened. Alright, lady, you can stop bashing this guy with your umbrella. “You sit down.” The rough-looking guy takes his hands off the Old Man momentarily, and the Old Man tries to push past him and gets in the aisle to make good his escape. He gets halfway up the bus aisle.

Kathleen sticks her leg out into the aisle, and as the lanky old man tries to escape, he trips and falls flat on his face. His hat rolls a few feet away and then stops leaving a trail of rainwater in its wake. At that moment, the police arrive, and Rotund Hippie gets up and makes his way to the door, and opens it.

“Alright, what the hell is going on in here?” A burly-looking cop says?” The old Hippie says that the old man in the back tries to off his old lady. I think she might be dead. He was choking her. And she ain’t moving anymore. The Old Man on the floor is the guy that killed her.”

The policeman says, “ Ok, everybody, back in your seats.” An officer will be coming onto the bus—the cop calls for backup and an ambulance. The Old man starts to get up and is restrained with handcuffs. “Alright, buddy, looks like you are going for a ride in the back of my police car. Isn’t that a great way to start off the day?”

The Old Man is led off the bus by the second cop and put in the back seat of the car. A second police car has arrived, along with an ambulance. As the paramedics walk past Kathleen, she is swearing aloud. “For the love of all that is holy, what the fuck is happening? Why is this kinda shit always happening to me? Why? Just why today? Crap, crap, crap.”

The paramedic checks out Old Lady. And then they lift her onto the stretcher. And pull the sheet over her face. Kathleen looks at her as she goes by. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Ok, everyone, we are going to have to get a statement from each one of you and your contact information. You’re all witnesses. You may be called to testify in court at a later date. It’s your duty to do so. Don’t try to leave until we permit you to do so. Sit back and relax; this may take a while.”

Kathleen smacks herself on the forehead. “Well, I’m dead in the water now. That’s for sure. My boss is never going to believe this story. I’m toast. Man, I should have just stayed in bed and called in sick today. “

There is a unified moan that rises from everyone on the bus. Somewhat reminiscent of the hurrah when the late bus arrived. They all sink in their seats simultaneously, almost as if it is choreographed.

Kathleen stares out the window at the dreary gray ski with rivers of rain flowing down the street. “Well, isn’t this just great, yet another day in paradise.”

A LIE IS A LIE IS A LIE

 

“Delta Dawn Rafferty, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” As I sit in the witness chair, I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. And then a shudder runs through my whole body. I stare out across the courtroom. I hear a low buzzing in my ears, and heat on the back of my neck and ears. My heart is beating so hard I think it might explode out of my chest. Dear god, I think I’m going to pass out in front of God and country.  Carrie Z - Pixababy

I blink and take a long, deep breath and exhale. “Yes, I do swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me god.” I’m biting my lip so hard it starts to bleed. I take an old tissue out of my jacket pocket and dab at my lip and gulp. I stuff the tissue back from whence it came. I sit up as straight as I can. And then I look out at Douglas, the accused, my former boyfriend, although a short-lived one.

“Can you relate to the court the circumstances that brought you here today? In your own words, can you tell the court what exactly occurred on January first of this year?”

As I sit there and try to decide what I should say, I realize that I had made up my mind a long time ago. I’m going to say precisely what it will take to put that bastard behind bars for as long as possible. Douglas is the picture of innocence. His face is blank, flaccid, you might say. But I know him better than anyone here. I can see that he’s gritting his teeth and his jaw is tightening. His lips are slightly pursed. If he could, he would rush up here and strangle me with his bare hands; he would. I have no doubt.

It began back when I was in grad school. Everything was going along as planned, and then I met Douglas. It was just after mid-term. I was on my break and my friends, and I decided to go out and party at the local pubs. Hell, I think we hit all of them on South Street in Philadelphia. I’m not much of a drinker, but for some reason that night, I just gave myself permission to drink myself into oblivion. Later, I wished that was all I found oblivion, not Douglas.

It was a beautiful starlit night. Well, that’s not exactly true, but it sounds better then it was raining like hell, and we all got soaked to the bone. There were five of us. There was Dolores, she has glorious red hair down to her waist and a tattoo on her arm that reads, Born to Die. She is the funniest person I ever met. She has a very dry wit,  dryer than the Mojave Dessert. She says the most outrageous things with a straight face. You have to think twice about everything she says, and then she will burst out laughing.

And then there’s Candy as beautiful as any model with an IQ that Einstein would envy. She’s only twenty-two and has two doctorate degrees. One in advanced physics, the other in psychology. Abnormal psychology was her area of interest.

And my best friend, Alicia. There isn’t any brief description of Ali she is all heart. I do not doubt that she is an empath. She can take one look at you, and in a few minutes, she understands who you are and what makes you tick. Although, I have to admit she misjudged me. She will go to the end of the earth to help you if you need her to. She has never met anyone who she doesn’t consider a friend. And the feeling is mutual. She has been my best friend since grade school. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.

And then there’s Thelma. How best to describe Thelma? She grew up in the Appalachian Mountains. Her family was poor. Not poor where they didn’t have extra money to go on vacation in the summer. But poor, she didn’t have food to eat every day of her life. She was homeschooled through high school. She has an endemic memory. If she reads it, she retains it. She has the frizziest hair that I have ever seen. She calls it her Irish Frow. There are freckles on her face and body the size of dimes. Is she the most beautiful girl in the world, no.? But, the men flock after her like a cat to catnip.

And then there’s me, of course, Delta Dawn Rafferty. Yes, I know that’s the name of a country-western song. My mother loved those old country ballads. Let me begin by saying that I have a good heart but don’t always make the best decisions. Often my heart leads the way instead of my head. I suppose I would have to say that of all of my friends I’m the creative one. My imagination knows no limits.  I’m an artist and writer. I’m quick with the sarcastic barb. I also have a quick temper and a short fuse. I’m a distant relative of Georgia O’Keefe. Now, you know everything relevant about me except how I came to be on trial for attempted murder. I didn’t attempt to murder anyone.  I was trying to save my own life. I believe that’s called self-defense.

As I was saying, we were out on the town hitting all the dive bars in Philadelphia’s South Street. If you ever have the time and the inclination, go there. The only possible place I could compare to South Street would be the Haute Ashbury section of San Francisco in the sixties and seventies. At least that’s what my grandmother Lou told me. And she ought to know she was a hippie back in the day.

We started at Tattooed Mom, it’s one of the most fabulous places on South Street if you are going on a bar troll with your best buds. Go there with a buzz on before you get there, even better.

Because this place is a sensory overload starting at the front of the building, the theme is carried on inside. Every surface is covered with psychedelic graffiti, including the walls and the furniture. All the artwork is created by the most talented and innovative graffiti artist in Philadelphia. Each one is a piece of history. They have a remarkable collection of craft beers. If you like some spicy chicken wings or an awesome veggie burger it’s yours for the asking.

They have poetry readings open to local poets. And then there’s Upstairs Mama’s where there’re political meet-ups with local Progressive leaders. Not your scene, then you can play a game of pool. It’s a very liberal place, so Conservatives’ beware. Anyway, my gal pals and I started here with a couple of beers and some food and listened to the poetry slam before we left.

We were all feeling the good vibes and moved on to The Twisted Tail. This is in the Society Hill section of South Street. The food is kind of uptown Southern Barbeque. We went there for the booze at the Southern Whiskey bar. And the music at the Juke Joint where talented local musicians play. That night a band called Mikey Jr. and the Stone-Cold Blues were playing. And then to top it all off there was a new musician and band who were playing Muddy Water’s Blues. By the time they got to Manish Boy, I was blown away. The singer could have been a reincarnation of Muddy Waters. And I was feeling no pain.

As I was throwing back my last whiskey a good-looking dude sat down next to me. And he asks if I wanted to dance. And that my friend was the beginning of a life-changing moment in my life. You know that little voice you hear in your head sometimes telling you, no don’t do it. Well, my little voice was screaming it at the top of its little non-existing lungs. But I was too far gone to hear it or care and I said yes.

Once I looked into his deep brown eyes, I was lost. I was his, for the taking. Next thing I know I got my jacket and told my best gal pal, Alicia, that I was leaving with this dude and would talk to her later. She tried to talk me out of it. They all did. But I had stopped listening. I was out the door hanging on his arm. Barely able to stand let alone walk.

Alicia came over just before I went out the door and tried once again to dissuade me. She physically tried to pry me off his arm. But I would have none of it. And I told her to mind her own business. And that was the last they heard of me for ten days. Yes, my friends that good-looking dude was none other than Douglas.

Yes, I was missing in action for ten days. that was a first for me. My friends were frantic. They had no idea where I was. I really think I lost my mind. I only considered what I was feeling. And I was feeling no pain. I was in love or lust, or maybe both. Those ten days were intoxicating.  Every time he walked into the room. I literally swooned. After ten days, Douglas decided he needed to go back to work and pick up the pieces. He left me a note saying it had been great fun. But the fun was over, and he had to get back to his real life.

Real-life, what the hell did that mean? I’m real. These last ten days seemed more real than any experience I had in my life up to this point. I was having none of it. He wasn’t going to toss me out like last week’s left-over Chinese food. I spent the rest of the morning ransacking his apartment. I got into his email. Can you believe he used the same password for every one of his accounts? And he had his password taped to the bottom of his laptop. What an amateur.

I looked at his Facebook account, his LinkedIn account, Twitter, his Tinder. I unfriended everyone on his Facebook account. Lastly, I blocked anyone on Tinder that I thought might get in my way. I changed his passwords for everything, and I copied his new passwords. I looked at his documents. I left no stone unturned. I happen to keep a jump drive in my purse, and I copied all relevant information. I even looked at all his online bank accounts. I moved some of his money from his checking and savings account into long-term CDs.

Douglas never asked for my phone number or address or my cell. He doesn’t even know my last name. He may be finished with me, But I’m not finished with him. Not by a long shot. He may not know my last name or address, but I know everything about him, and I mean everything. I looked in his address book on his phone while he was taking a shower. And I copied all his contact information, including family, friends, and workplace.

I cleaned every surface that I might have touched. I put all the dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on. I washed the clothes, sheets, and towels in hot water. Douglas’ apartment had probably never been this clean dare I say antiseptic since day one. And then I began to exact my revenge. Oh, you thought I already exacted my revenge. Hardly, I believe I mentioned that I’m creative. Well, my creativity is not limited to, painting and writing.

Day one- I contacted Alicia first by text, and after she unloaded a raft of shit on me via texts. I called her. Unfortunately, I should have given her a little more time to simmer down. Her anger was still boiling over. “Del, where the hell have you been? We have been looking all over for you. We made a police report that you were a missing person. We called your parents. We all were sure that that guy murdered you, cut you up in little pieces, and threw you in the Schuylkill River. Del, they dragged the river. You are going to have to talk to the police. I’ll text you the name and number of the detective that was, or I guess is investigating your disappearance. His name is Detective Dan Shaw.

“Del, it was in the Philadelphia Inquirer.”  “For reals? Are you kidding?” No, I’m not kidding. Your parents are a mess; they think you’re probably dead. No, I’m not joking. Have you lost your mind? We were all worried, sick.”

I tried to interject some reason here. But Alicia was having none of it. God, can’t a girl go a little crazy once in a while? I mean, you’re only young once, for crying out loud. So, I made plans to get together with her and Dolores and Candice, and Thelma for dinner that night at the Pussy Cat. It’s a kind of a dive bar in Deptford, NJ, near the Mall. But they have the most fabulous spicy Chicken Wings in South Jersey.

After I spoke to Alicia, I called my mother. When my mother picked up the phone, she immediately started crying. And then she started yelling. It seemed that this was going to be a new theme with everyone I talk to in the near future. I was starting to feel a little guilty for not letting them know what I was up to. But not that guilty. I have a right to my privacy, don’t I? I assured her I was fine, and I apologized over and over again. Then my dad got on the phone and read me the riot act. I guess I could expect more of this at the Pussy Cat when I saw my other girlfriends. I will try to deflect the tirade by starting with an apology, right off the bat.

Meanwhile, I got busy with my plan for Douglas. The basic plan was to make him regret using me and then ditch me like a bad habit. And then regretting the day he was born. I started sending emails to his boss at Megger International, describing some of the things Douglas had done to me. I copied that email to all his co-workers and close friends. And all his past girlfriends and on Tinder for any possible future girlfriends.

I was feeling a little jazzed for some reason. I guess I was feeling a sense of accomplishment. I didn’t stop for a minute to consider the possible consequence of my actions, not even for a minute. I found it divine retribution. Not that I felt sorry for my actions and how they would affect Douglas. But how it possibly affects me. I think I had every right to destroy Douglas’ little world and his pathetic life. Look what he did to me. Told me he loved me, adored me even. We were meant to be together forever. Men have been doing this to women forever. And it is time for it to stop.

My coup d’état was when I showed up at his place of employment, Megger international. They were having a meeting for all the top-performing employees at a special luncheon to thank them for their outstanding service to the company. I knew all this because I have been hacking into his work email. God, he had made it so easy.

I arrived just as the plant manager was standing in front of all the employees to hand out bonuses and announce raises. I saw Douglas sitting at one of the front tables. He seemed poised to stand up. I started to slowly move forward to the front of the large meeting room. I was going to start crying and telling everyone what a shit he was when he was finished speaking. But that never happened because as his name was called, Douglas sensed my presence somehow and looked over at me.

And I stepped forward he launched himself across the front of the room and toward me. He started choking me.   I was kicking and scratching. I was no match for his strength. I don’t think I mentioned that Douglas was over six and a half feet tall and cut. It looks like he spent a lot of time working out at the gym. He was shaking me like a dog with a bone. And then, at the last possible moment, I pulled the knife out of my jacket pocket and stabbed him a couple of times in the upper chest. Which was all I could manage, considering he was wringing my neck?

That was also when several of his co-workers and boss jumped on me and restrained me. Someone punched me really hard in the face. I don’t know who. But I intend to find out, and they will be sorry. The last thing I remember is the police putting me in handcuffs and shoving me in the back of the squad car. And that is all she wrote. And here I’m standing before you all ad innocent women trying to defend my honor. Nothing more. I was just defending myself, nothing more.