Tag Archives: police

DOG EARRED BOOKS

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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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Trash Can Fire

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It’s my first day off from work in over a month. And I’m looking forward to finishing the book I started a month ago The Anthill Chronicles. I know that sounds like a weird title for a book, but it is a spellbinding story. Anyway, I was standing at the stove and making a grilled cheese sandwich with fried green tomatoes. I had already made a salad and poured a tall glass of ice tea and a small dish of peach yogurt. And then I plan on eating lunch on my screened-in back porch and watching the Koi swim around the pond I built three years ago. 

I place my lunch down on my small kitchen table and when something catches my eye, a flash of light. I stare out my kitchen window and I see my neighbor is burning something in his backyard. My first thought is he shouldn’t be burning anything today, it’s too windy. And then I see him pouring a liquid that I could only assume was gasoline onto the fire. Since he was holding a red gas can in his hand.

“Holy Shit,” I scream at the top of my lungs. The fire climbs high in the sky and then I hear a scream. My neighbor, his name is Joe is jumping up and down. I guess he’s trying to stamp out the fire in the leaves that surround him. I look for my cell phone to call 911 when I remember that I left it upstairs on the charger since I didn’t want my reading to be interrupted by my cell ringing.

I grab the tablecloth off the kitchen table and double-time it out to the backyard. By the time. I get to the back of my yard the leaves are actively burning and so is my neighbor. There’s a gate between my neighbor’s backyard and mine so I run as quickly as I can through the gate and over to the other side of the fence.

I throw the tablecloth over my neighbor to smother the flames. But the dry leaves all around his feet are burning. I try to get him to move away from the leaves but he’s in such a panic he’s frozen to the spot where he was standing. He is a lot bigger than I am and I can’t make him budge. So, then I run over to the side of his house and turn on the water faucet and start spraying him and the grass around him with water.

By now the fire was all but extinguished. And the smoke is rising up in the air and blowing in the direction of the wind. “Joe, do you have a cell phone?”  He hands me his phone and I call 911. Hello, this is Sandy Hall. I live at 20 Colfax Drive in Benson. My neighbor accidentally started a fire in his backyard. He has sustained some burns and needs to be taken to the hospital. He lives in the house behind my house. What? Yes, he is conscious, but he needs to go to the hospital. Ok, sure about ten minutes.”

I walk back over to Joe and say,” how are you feeling Joe? Are you in much pain? Do you need to sit down? I just called 911 they should be here in a few minutes. Why don’t we go and wait on your front porch? I’ll get you some water.”

“What the hell do you think you are doing calling the police? Who asked you to come over here? Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“What, mind my own business? Your yard was on fire, you were on fire. I was trying to help you.?

“Help, help who said I needed help?”
“Ok Joe, you need to sit down and wait for the ambulance. You are just overexcited and upset.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

At this point, I decided that Joe was not in a rational state of mind. And I was about to argue with him anymore so I walk around to his front yard to direct the ambulance when it arrives. Just then I see a police car and a fire truck and an ambulance pull around the corner of our cul-d-sac and I start to wave at them over.

Two young men disembark from the ambulance and walk toward me. “Hello, my name is Sandy Hall I called you. My neighbor over there started a fire to burn some trash and it got out of control and his grass and all the dried leaves in his back yard started to burn and then he poured gasoline on the fire and then he caught on fire. But I managed to put the fire out on him and sprayed the yard down with the hose. And then I called you guys. He’s right there.”

“Thank you for calling. We’ll take over from here on out. That was brave of you. I’m sure your neighbor appreciates your help. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I hope he will be ok.”

I stand by my neighbor’s front step and watch. It looks as if the firemen and the EMT’s have everything well in hand. So, I walk back to my back porch and sit down. I drink the glass of ice tea down in one gulp and nearly chock on the ice.

I try to pay attention to my book, but somehow, I keep finding my attention drifting away and watching my neighbor. Although I can’t hear what is being said it’s clear my neighbor, Joe isn’t been cooperative. The thought crosses my mind that some people are their own worse enemy. Once they get an idea in their head there is no changing their minds. About ten minutes later, I notice Joe is getting into the ambulance and apparently going to the hospital. I say out loud, “well that’s a relief.” And then I go back to finishing my dessert. I decide to feed my Koi fish and fill up the bird feeders. I come back to the porch and continue reading my book.

It’s a beautiful day and I enjoy my solitude and hope to finish my book tonight after dinner. About 4:30 in the afternoon just before I’m about to go in and start dinner, I notice a car pulling into my neighbor’s driveway. And sure, enough Joe steps out of the back of the car. He slams the door behind him. I wave at him but he doesn’t wave back. I shrug my shoulders and pick up my tray and go into my house to cook dinner.

The next morning, I get up and take a shower and go to work as usual. I have a busy day and time goes by quickly. As I pull into my driveway, I notice my neighbor, Joe out in his backyard. I consider going over there to check up on him. But I not up to another negative confrontation so I decide to forego asking him how he is doing.

The next day after work, Joe is once again out in the yard. So, I decide to gather my courage and go ask him how he’s doing. But I vow to myself that if he so much as raises his voice to me, I’ll never talk to him again. I open my gate and take a deep breath and walk towards the back fence. Joe has his back to me. “Hi Joe, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you but I just wanted to ask how you are doing?”

Joe turns around and looks at me. “Oh, it’s you.” And then he just stands there and stares at me. So, I try again. “So, how are you doing? Are you in any pain?’

He finally turns towards me and says, “They gave me pain killers. They told me I was lucky not to have been burned more extensively. I know I acted like an ass. I should have thanked you for coming over here to help me.”

“Oh well, I didn’t come over here for an apology or a thank you. I just wanted to see if you are ok, that’s all. So, are you ok?”

“Yes, I will be, and thank you for helping me. No one else ever went out of their way to help me ever. But I guess that’s my fault for not being friendly to anyone.”

“Well Joe, I’m relatively new to this neighborhood, so I don’t know many people. It would be nice to have a friend here. So, in case you don’t know my name, it’s Sandy Hall. And I know your name is Joe, but I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Joe Farmington, I’ve been living here for fifteen years. My wife died two years ago and since then I’ve been mad at the world and to tell you the truth, lonely. We never had any children. I’m pretty much alone in the world. I would really appreciate having a friend.”

“Well then, how about coming over to my house at lunchtime. I hate eating alone all the time, but as I said I don’t know anyone around here. How do you feel about bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches with ice tea and chocolate ice cream for dessert?”

“I say that sounds great, thanks for asking. What time?”

“Twelve o’clock sharp Joe, on my back porch. I’ll look forward to it.”

And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between me and Joe…

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THE PURSE

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I pull into the only remaining parking spot at Shop Rite food store in Glassboro. I can’t believe how crowded it is. And then I remember today is the day that the Gloucester County bus transports the senior citizens to the food store. It’s not that I dislike older people, I ‘m no spring chicken myself.

However, some seniors perceive food shopping as a social event. They gather in groups in the middle of the aisle and gossip about one another. And they have debates about which is better frozen food or canned.

Shopping Cart- Google Image

I, on the other hand, detest food shopping. I want to get in and get out. After thirty years of food shopping, it holds no interest for me. It’s a task I must complete every two weeks. I’m not a foodie never have been.

I open the door of my car and sigh. I’m resign myself to the fact that I’m about to squander another hour of my life doing something I don’t want to do. I lock the door on my seventeen-year-old Mitsubishi Galant and walk over the corral where the shopping carts are stored.

As I get closer to the carts, I notice that there’s something in the first cart where mothers put their little kids. And low and behold, someone has left a large purse.

I look around to see if anyone is getting into their cars who might have left it there. Unfortunately, I don’t see anyone getting in or getting out of their cars. I pick up the purse and contemplate what I should do. Should I take it into the food store and leave it with customer service? Should I leave it in the cart in case the owner returns for it? No, someone will probably grab the purse take the money and credit cards and throw the purse in the trash.

Then I get the brilliant idea of looking into the purse for identification, possibly a phone number or address. I find the driver’s license. The owner of the purse lives in Clayton, a town about fifteen minutes away. There’s no phone number. Common sense tells me to take the purse into the store and give it to Customer Service.

But I don’t listen to common sense. I decide I’ll drive to Clayton and return it to the owner. Who may not realize where they left their purse. I get back in my car and turn on my GPS. I decide to take another quick look into the purse. I open it up, and I find an expensive-looking watch and some unopened letters, a gun, and handcuffs. And then I see drugs. Not the kind of pills I have in my purse, aspirin, and anti-acids. But illegal drugs or what I think are probably illegal drugs.

“Holy Mackerel,” I say out loud. I realize at this point I ‘m in over my head. I decide to take the purse and its creepy contents into the store to customer service and turn it in. I feel a bead of sweat dripping slowly down from my forehead off my chin. And more sweat follows.

Just as I’m getting out of my car to turn the purse over to the customer service, I sense someone is looking at me. I look to the right and the left. And I see a woman about thirty-years-old staring at me. The purse is wide open. This woman does not look happy. In fact, she appears as if she’s going to blow a gasket. Her face is distorted by anger, rage even.

I grin at her and shrug my shoulders.  I  see that doesn’t help. My first reaction is, she’s going to kill me. I try to get back in my car. and lock my door. But it’s too late. She’s grabbing the outside door handle and yanks the door open.

“What the hell are you doing with my purse?” She says.

“Oh look, I’m sorry I found it in one of the carts. I was just about to return it to you. I was looking in the purse for a phone number to call and let you know I found it. That’s all. I didn’t see anything.       Here take it.”

“You didn’t see anything? Come on you’re coming with me.”
“No, here take your purse, I’m not going to tell anyone, anything. I’m not going anywhere with you. I have to go food shopping today. Look, you can check your purse.  You won’t find anything missing. I have to go now.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Get in.”

“What? No, I’m not going anywhere with you. Just take the purse. Take it. I scream, “help” at the top of my lungs. It’s too late. That’s when she yanks me by the hair and pulls me over to the back of her car. Opens the trunk and shoves me in and slams the trunk closed. I bang on the trunk and kick it with my feet. And then I start screaming at the top of my lungs. But by then, she’s driving away. And nobody is going to hear me once we get on Delsea Drive, which is a really busy road all the time. I keep screaming, “help, I’m locked in the trunk.”

I begin feeling panicky. I’m sweating from my head down to the soles of my feet. It’s hot as Hades in here. I feel like I’m suffocating. I try screaming again, but only a squeak comes out of my dry throat. I keep thinking about a self-defense class I took years ago. They said, “whatever you do, don’t let anyone take you to a second location.” Or maybe I heard it, Oprah.

And that is when I start to lose it, hyperventilating, feeling like I was going to throw up. I begin kicking the trunk of the car with all my might, try to open it, hoping that it isn’t locked. No matter how hard I kick, it doesn’t budge.

I attempt to calm down and reason. Unfortunately, I’ve never been good under pressure. I always panic. Sometimes if someone asks me my name, I just stare at them blankly. I can’t remember my name at that moment. God forbid I get pulled over by a cop for speeding on making an illegal turn. My brain stops working altogether. I had test anxiety all through school even college. And now, my life depends on me getting my shit together. For all, I know, this woman is some sort of maniac or cold-blooded murderer. This could be my last day alive. I start praying; I’m not religious. But it might be worth a shot. “Help me, god, help me. I’ll be a better person. I won’t lose my temper so easily. I’ll start recycling. I’ll never tell another lie, ever. I’ll try to be more patient. Anything you want, god, just help me get out of this trunk and away from this murderer.”

I slow down my breathing, taking deep breaths, and slowly exhaling. I calm down a bit, and then the thought crosses my mind that maybe I’ll run out of air in the trunk and suffocate. I start feeling claustrophobic. I start yelling and kicking again, “help, I’m locked in the trunk, help, help, help.”

Suddenly, my brain kicks in a last-ditch effort to save my life. I remember that newer vehicles have an emergency release on the inside of the trunk. I’m on my side. I start feeling along the inside of the hood to the middle feeling for the release. It should be a small handle that I have to grab and then pull, and the hood should pop open after about two minutes, which feels like an eternity. I find the cable and follow it to the latch. I decide to wait until the car slows.

I’m sweating like a pig at this point, exhausted from the shock and terror I’m feeling. I don’t believe I’ve ever been so frightened in my life. I decide to start counting backward from a hundred to calm myself down. I’m on thirty-four when I feel the car slow down and comes to a halt. I pray we are at a light and not at this woman’s home. I pop the hood. I hear the engine is still running, I throw my legs over the top of the trunk and then with great effort push my upper body up and out.

I’m standing on the highway. A young woman driving a car directly in front of me is texting someone on her phone and doesn’t even see me. I run over to her car and start pounding on the driver’s side window. She slowly turns her head in my direction. I’m yelling as loud as I can, “help, help, help.”  Which isn’t loud because my throat is sore from yelling at the top of my voice for whatever amount of time I have been locked in the trunk. I have lost all sense of time.

She opens her window half-way down. “Please let me in, the woman in the car behind you kidnapped me. She has a gun, please, I need help, let me in. She glances at the car trunk directly behind her. The kidnapper is now aware that her unwilling passenger has escaped from the trunk. Until she see s her talking to the driver in the car in front of her.

“Please, here comes the kidnapper, please, please let me in.”

“OK, get in. You can use my phone to call the police.”

“Please lock your doors; maybe you should start beeping your car horn to call attention to what’s happening.”

The driver of the car looks in her rearview window and sees an armed woman running towards her car. “Crap, here she comes, she has a gun in her hand. We have to get out of here quickly. The driver starts beeping her car until everyone is looking in their direction.

The other driver’s make room for the woman to pull her car out. She starts weaving in and out of the traffic. And then there is traffic starts moving forward.

The woman driving my getaway car keeps saying out loud,” My God, what have I got myself into?” She says it about five times. I put my hand on her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her. She practically jumps through the roof of the car. “What the hell are you doing? Why are you touching me?’

“I’m sorry I was just trying to calm you down. Thank you so much for saving my life; only one in a million people would have done that. I was so lucky you were behind the getaway car.”

“Getaway car, what do you mean, did you rob a bank or something? Are you a bank robber?” Then she starts saying my god, my god, my god, what did I get myself into?”

“What? No, I’m not a bank robber. I was in the Shop Rite parking lot to do my food shopping. And I found a woman’s purse in the baby seat of the shopping cart. I was looking into the purse to find a name and address so I could contact the owner or return it. Then I decided it would be better to turn it into the Customer Service of Shop Rite. And I was just about to do that when the owner showed up.  Unfortunately for me because when I looked in her purse, I found a loaded gun, and drugs and a large sum of money, expensive jewelry, and handcuffs.”

“So anyway, she sees me looking in her purse. She comes barreling over to me, and if looks could kill, I would already be dead. She was in a rage. I tried to explain to her what happened. She wouldn’t listen. She grabbed me and dragged me over to her car and threw me in the trunk. And then she drove away. I know she was going to kill me. Why else would she throw me in the trunk? I remembered that newer cars have a trunk release. And I managed to open the trunk and climb out. And that’s where you came to the rescue. I owe you a debt of gratitude; you absolutely saved my life.”

Just as I finished recounting my experience to my savior, I hear a police siren and turn and look in the back window, and I see two cop cars following us. “Oh, thank god, the police are here? You should pull over.”

“Call the police? No, I didn’t have time to do anything. Someone else must have called the police when they say you get out of the trunk and get into my car.”

“Mam, can I see your driver’s license, please, and insurance card?”

“What, I didn’t do anything I was trying to save this woman’s life. She was locked in the trunk of the car in front of me, and she managed to escape. I was driving her to safety.”

I realize that mam, but I still have to see some identification. You too mam.”

“Me, I don’t even remember what happened to my purse, it might still be in my car at the ShopRite Food store in Glassboro where I was kidnapped. It is a black 2003 Mitsubishi Galant.”

“Alright man, I’ll have that checked out. Are either of you injured?”

“No, thank god. But that maniac threw me in the trunk. She had a gun. She was going to kill me because I found her purse and looked in it. She had a loaded gun, handcuffs and drugs, and a lot of money.”

“Alright, I understand, unfortunately, both of you are going to have to go make a statement at the police headquarters. The two of you can get in my vehicle, and I’ll have my partner drive your car to the station, miss.”

I look at her, and she looks back at me. I say,” I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.” So, I start laughing and crying at the same time. We hug each other.

“Oh, by the way, my name is Sandra. Sandra Gioiella. What’s your name?

“I’m Mary Guilfoyle. It’s been an interesting day. I don’t usually drink, but after this, I would really appreciate a beer, how about you?”

“That’s a date, lunch, too, on me.”

__________________________________

THE BUS STOP

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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.”