The Gun

It was a small Beretta, tightly wrapped in its holster and kept in the night stand. Whenever the kid got home early enough he’d take the gun from the nightstand and examine it closely. He figured out how to take it out from the holster, found the safety and that was it. He knew better than to play around with it. He looked closely at the design examining the sleek machined metal parts. The hard rubber grip flowed smoothly onto the handle. The weight of the thing was impressive. He contemplated the manufacturing process and carefully put the gun away exactly where he found it. The gun was there for years, apparently never touched by the owner. One Saturday morning the kid took the gun upstairs. He planned to shoot the gun into the river from the second floor balcony. No one was around. Outside it was a perfect summer morning. He steadied himself close to the railing and cocked the weapon. Arms stretched out, using both hands, he aimed toward the river and fired.

The crack was deafening a smell of gun powder filled his nostrils. The recoil pushed his arms over his head or he may have done so because of a movie or TV show. He kept looking but could not tell where the bullet hit. He felt a drip of warm, liquid on his forehead. He knew it was blood panic rose quickly as he lowered his hands. His hands were dripping he realized he didn’t shoot himself some of the anxiety dissipated.

Anxious and not knowing what happened he ran inside to the bathroom. Ears ringing, panic still hovering close he saw the slice across the back of his thumb.  he quickly found a towel and wiped the blood from the gun afterward he placed it back into the holster and returned it to the nightstand.

It occurred to him that he didn’t properly close the slide. The gun fired but he didn’t know whether the bullet left the chamber or not. He was too stricken to go back and check the gun. He would wait until tomorrow or the next time no one was home. One afternoon getting home he had his chance. He returned to the night stand only to find the gun was gone. Over the next few months he’d check and the gun never reappeared.

Throughout the years he would think about the gun and the only proof he had was the permanent scar on the back his thumb.

The Hunt

The small, white, fluffy terrier waited impatiently by the door. The boys put their boots on while looking for their gloves. Dragging their clothes around the entryway, pantry they found the gloves in the basement. Mom was at work. She worked seven days a week to feed six kids. Bruce could hardly stand it. She barked, wagged and pointed at the door. The boys were finally ready to leave. She almost burst with excitement. The door opened to a misty Saturday morning. March in Michigan is damp. Bruce was half way down the driveway before she stopped and looked back. Jim and Tim chased after her. Bruce returned the favor.

Andy was waiting at the end of the drive.

The shadow of the coal burning power plant didn’t affect them at all. They made their way across the empty, two-lane M29. Into the field they went, muddy, low land was perfect for finding mice. They looked for downed trees, boards or anything that might hide the little rodents. Bruce was on the trail her nose to the ground and she was already covered in mud. The small band was pretty good at finding and catching mice. In the next twenty or thirty minutes they’d have the box full.

They surrounded a board that was laying flat on the ground. Tim grabbed the corner and flipped it over mice scattered everywhere. The boys and Bruce chased around trying to capture the mice. Well at least the boys did. Bruce enjoyed biting and shaking them. They stuffed the captured mice into the box.

While wandering through the field they came across ripped up paper caught in a tree. The boys went to investigate. They found a water-damaged, wind strewn Playboy magazine. What a score! Their spirits immediately rose to something close to hysteria. Flipping through the pages was about the best thing they could have imagined. The discovery added a half hour to their campaign. After very serious discussions on the quality of the women and trying to understand the comics they hid the Playboy under some branches and continued the hunt.

After flipping some broken tree trunks and some boards they filled the box. They had no idea what to do with the extremely agitated rodents. But they had a box full of them and were very pleased just the same. They backtracked to retrieve the magazine after a short while they couldn’t seem to find the tree or the pile of branches. They searched then decided to go home.

After reaching home they left the box of rodents outside and went in to raid the refrigerator. Satisfied they went back out to the box and decided what to do.

Setting the box in its right position they would open the little trap type door and see how long it would take the mice to figure it out. The boys provide the voice over thoughts. Bruce waited patiently. One mouse slowly approached the door. “Hey I think it’s safe. I’m going to try it.” Bruce got him pretty quickly. Two more mice ventured close to the door. “He seems to have made it.” “Yeah I think it’s safe.” “Let’s go!” and Bruce got them to.

Quickly the boys grew bored with the game. They left the box, open half full of mice and walked towards the river.

Just another Saturday

I’m The Everlasting Know-It-All and Nobody Comes to Visit

That’s okay cause I’ll find my enemies online

Sitting in my bunker, high, below the industrial wastelands of the mid-west United States.

My pius rantings fill the room

I am right until I’m not. Prove it if you can. ’cause I ain’t listenin’

“I scroll through your pages I listen to your search for understanding

I can only say you can.”

Back to my ego.

I judge from my protected society

I call into question your motives. If I cared I would already know.

My duplicitous poem is getting out of control

Bathing in my angst and panic I scream at the screens

Screens filled with doom and pornography.

Is there a relation between end of the world journalism and naked women on display? I’ma thinkin’

I hear the knee-jerkers call out everyone —-

You’re Gay! You’re a Homophobe! You’re a racist! You’re a libtard! You’re a Xenophobe! Go back to Russia! Go back to Kenya! Go back to Mexico! Go back to Cuba! Go back to Germany! Go back to China! Go back to Afghanistan!

I need to go back to, So many places. I’ve never been.

You’re Wrong, WRong, WRONG!!!

I hate, hate, hate everybody!

Unless you look like and agree with me. Don’t let me down, here. I’m tryin to work with ya.

Okay you don’t have to look like me but ya better agree or

I’ll troll you silly!

Facebook Bully? Check

Anonymous comments? Check.

Attack you for your looks, hairstyle, religious affiliation, make nasty remarks about your family and friends. You respond? I’ll never reply.

Somehow, can I hurt you, even more?

I’ll sleep well.

Cause I’m right. So effin right.

Defend yourself and if I’m listening I’ll laugh and call you a liar.

Cause that makes me real.

This world is too big and out of my control. So I must

Attack Attack Attack!!

A knock on the door… “Honey, come up it’s time for dinner.”

Whew ! I’ve got to stop surfing the internet while drinking espresso.

The Everlasting Know It All shuts down for the evening.

 

 

Happy Weekend Everyone.

~Mike

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode…… The Everlasting Know It All Takes a Drive—- Road Rage? You ain’t seen notin yet.

I’m not cheating…I just write other blogs.

While I’ve been trying to keep you all from meeting and all the embarassing questions that come with it. How long? Why? Wasn’t I good enough?

I find that now I’ll neglect one for the other or visa versa.

Now what the heck! Let’s go total transparency. More so than business and more so than government. I want you to know me and I’m involved with other projects.

Two big projects I am starting:

First I’m in process of getting financing and my business plan for a multi media theatre diestrict. Lots of work and lots of fun. Lots of no’s and some yes’s.


Next

Since I like diversions. Show me something shinny and I’ll be gone for hours.

I’m thinking that I would like to run for President of the US.

In the meantime Please take a look at the links below.

Personal

http://ypsidaily.blogspot.com/

Linked In

https://www.linkedin.com/pub/michael-mclean/15/874/415

I also have a henrywest twitter that I set up but haven’t used it yet

https://twitter.com/HenryWestmin?refsrc=email

https://www.facebook.com/#!/henry.west.568089?fref=ts

Work related

http://mikeswatching.blogspot.com/

http://libdiversity.wordpress.com/

 

The Final Betrayal

The translation from my mind to my hand betrays me. Those images and those words are not what I wanted to say.

Traveling from the realm of imagination to the physical is a wild ride of reinterpretation.

Honest to Pete I might be better writing with my feet. – That was an easy one. I apologize.

 

Barington Withersom

Barnington Withersom always followed the rules. Never would he take an unearned advantage. He was fair, honest to a fault. Hardly any would ever know his qualities. Barington worked a 46 acre spread just south of the Rockies. Nice enough but what can you farm in the desert? Barington knew and so did the specialists who came to work every summer. Barington let them be and collected the rent. The Withersoms owned the land since, well, since a long ago ancestor Kari-Strauss Withersomful hijacked a slave ship and ran it aground somewhere on the Texas coast. His origins are rather sketchy some say he was a prisoner from Portugal, convicted by the inquisition, after a couple of years of torture he wouldn’t confess and wouldn’t die, they sent him to Africa to work as a slave. He quietly escaped and found the double mast ship in harbor, loaded and waiting to set sail. Kari-Strauss Withersomful stowed away, once the ship was under way he overcame the guards in the hold and released the slaves. Within minutes he and the “passengers” had secured the ship without firing a shot or killing one person. The captain and officers became guests in the hold. They continued toward the west. No one wanted to go back. Life was hard and, if your neighbor was going to sell you into slavery or something like that, it might be time to leave. On with the story. Kari-Strauss along with the ship and crew struggled across the Atlantic. Finally reaching the islands, they knew better than to dock. They continued west around Florida and across the gulf. Every so often they’d make land and a few men would leave, sometimes others would join them. At one point, while in the middle of the gulf, they set out the captain and crew in the life boats. The tales of their exploits are legendary, they’ll have to wait for another day. They reached shore finally and assuming it was Mexico scuttled the ship in a deep cay. Over a hundred men swam to shore. Some walked away in groups, others alone. Kari-Strauss went alone. He walked and he didn’t stop until he was in what is now northern New Mexico, within site of the Rockies.

Far enough, absolutely nobody around, I mean nobody. He built a rock house, this ended up being the southernmost boundary of his property. He found a river about 10 miles north and after about two years moved his home to the river. Kari-Strauss did not see another soul for five years. He loved being alone though he may have gone a little loopy. The year is 1634. Kari-Strauss met his first original occupants of the land. They were impressed. They had not seen someone with fair skin before and thought it a bad omen. They didn’t care if he stayed but decided it would be better to keep their distance while keeping an eye on him. The men stayed a week and left. Still somewhat impressed. Who could live out here? After a couple of years the men returned with women and children. They stayed for an extra month and, when they left, one of the women stayed.

Another story has Kari-Strauss as a extremely rich and very eccentric resident of Hau-chen city somewhere in central China. He built a small fleet of ships to sail east. He had a vision of wide open sea leading to a beautiful shoreline. Kari had a mission, he knew there was more in the ocean and did not want to travel west to the barbarians. We’ll get into that later. Back to Barington.

Barington was very happy when the paleontologists arrived. They paid well to dig in the northeastern sector of his property. Turns out the property had the largest collection of tyrannosaurus bones in the western hemisphere. Barington found himself contemplating what the world must have looked like when those hugh beasts roamed. These insanely large reptiles lived for millions of years. He ran through the familiar thoughts again; How did they live? Did they develop cross species communication? How could a catastrophic event kill them all and not allow a recovery? Did they stay together as families or tribes? Herds?  Barington loved this land. It was paid for and he sent half the rent payment to a local shelter, some 300 miles away.

Barington would have liked to have more friends but his manner of speaking drove people nuts. He talked with an unbelievably loud, scratchy voice. HOW YA DOIN? Is about all they could stand.

Tim’s Lament

Click off. Shut down. A night like any other. Drag to bed. Mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Beautiful and mostly disturbing sites. Images pop up and fade. His flickering eyelids stop and stay closed

Next night – same thing

New night – log on

While Tim surfed to his regular sites – he realized that old feeling

He found himself going to those sites he hoped to avoid

He couldn’t resist. Click Click Select

Yes, he smiled. His favorite porn sites -cams and videos

He tried a couple of other sites, other videos, other cameras –

the same thing

It really started to creep him out. He lost his anonymous feeling -What’s… going….. on….?

Every place he clicked the actors would stop what they were doing and stare back.

Click off.

stay awake

 

Ann Arbor Cat Napper Page 6

“Kittie, kittie” Jim continued. Still in the backyard he was getting tired of this story line. As usual whenever Jim was outside of his safe zone he felt paranoid. He did his best to get along but came off more awkward. He smiled to himself, not quite smooth and just a little creepy. Being in a stranger’s back yard, he realized he better move. He was trying to look around while not looking into windows, almost impossible for him. He did his best to keep his eyes pointed toward the trees, dumpsters, any location a cat may hide. “Kittie, puss, puss.” He muttered. Two random black and whites missing, could be a pattern. As he walked slowly like an outed stalker, his thoughts continued . What if someone was taking the black and white cats in Ann Arbor? Two missing cats. Just a coincidence. Two black and white cats missing? Not a conspiracy yet.. He made his way to a short alley, there were a few garbage cans, some boxes, no cats. Then he thought it might be trash day at the local restaurants. He decided to check their garbage. As he emerged from the alley he was immediately hit by a bicycle. “Dammit” he heard as the bike tipped onto the ground and a sixty year old hipster stared at him. “Man. I said excuse me. What’s your problem?” The hipster said. Always the quick wit Jim looked at him with the best dumb look he had. (Kind of his natural look) The hipster realizing he had a chance to speak said, “You should be more considerate of others. Luckily my bike’s not messed up.” Jim was thinking “Cats” while staring at the bike. The hipster entered his vision and “Fuckin jerk. What’er you, stoned?” The peace and love bicyclist was getting rather upset. He couldn’t figure out why this guy acted like a zombie. He was getting worried. Jim clumsily took a step right on to the spokes of the bike, still laying on the ground. The hipster started to shake and turn red. He was trying to say something when Jim fell the rest of the way onto the bike. Hate, disgust and terror colored the hipster’s face as he swooned and leaned towards the cinder brick wall. Luckily the wall caught him just in time, he just about fainted. Jim realized the absurdity of the situation, as he landed on the bike, he felt the pain from the initial impact. He smiled and almost laughed. The hipster was gathering his senses. He let out a stream of profanity that would make even the most jaded blush. The bike handle bar and one petal somehow attached themselves to Jim. Half way up Jim fell again and dragged the bike into the street. “Shit” He pushed up and he felt something on the bike give way. Okay this was no longer funny. The hipster was starting to scream in desperation. A few people stopped across the street and tittered. Jim knew he lost his bike wrestling debut. Once again he’d end up on Uboob doing something stupid. Breaking a couple of wires on the bike, Jim detached himself and stumbled back into the alley. The hipster pulled off his helmet and fell to his knees. “My Bike!” He whimpered. Jim continued his run, this was becoming a seriously painful day. He found himself back in the yard behind the building. He was ready to go home, enough. It’s time to take a break. As Jim started for home the woman from earlier was coming down the stairs. “Hey Jim, any luck?” She looked at him and thought maybe it wasn’t the same guy. Jim saw her and waived. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. “Hey wait. I appreciate what you are trying to do.” Jim stopped, he was ready to put a list of nonsensical  statements together. The girl caught up and said, “Here it’s all I can do now but later I’ll have some more.” She pushed a twenty dollar bill into Jim’s hand. She continued, “My name’s Jen and I work at Dan’s Spoon, just over there. Stop by in a couple of hours, I’ll buy you a coffee.” Jim felt instantly better. He tried to refuse but couldn’t. He said, “Thanks. I hope to find your cat.” Instead of going home he now felt like looking around for a while. Jen said, “Gotta run, see you soon.” Jim watched her purposefully walk away, thinking about food. He thought about following her to Dan’s but decided to get a cheap sandwich breakfast. Dan’s was too upscale for him. He decided to walk in the opposite direction of the alley. He felt a little reboot from the act of kindness. He walked a couple of blocks without incident to Kelly’s Fryer to buy a deep fried cheese sandwich. He knew everyone at Kelly’s and usually got a little extra.

The restaurant was loud and smelly as usual. He was lucky Stimpy was working the grill. Stimpy is the best one armed line cook in Ann Arbor. He also had the best connection for non medical marijuana. Jim placed his order and went to talk to Stimpy at the cook’s window counter. But seeing the waitress traffic he knew he better just sit at the breakfast bar.

“Hey Jim. You look like shit.” Jim looked at the counter and only saw the dripping spatula  Stimpy’s smile quickly filled the window. “What the fuck chuck? Ya fall of the roof or somethin?” … Stimpy trailed off intently reading another order ticket. Jim looked around and saw the cashier. The cashier looked at him and pointed to the coffee pot. Jim nodded. She brought the pot and a cup over. “How you doin today?” she said. She didn’t look at Jim she hardly looked at anyone. After so many years, she just scanned the room and looked for things amiss. She could zero in on an half full cup from across the room. She did this job at four other restaurants in the area. None of them would offer her a full time job. “typical restaurant” she thought. She loved the business and the people. It almost seemed like the customers followed her to whichever place she was working. From the corner of her eye, she saw the loner in number 6 leaving a tip and made her way to the cash register.

“Two on One and Tater Fries! Pick it up!” Barked Stimpy from somewhere in the kitchen. “Come on, people gotta eat!” Stimpy didn’t like the food to sit. One of the customers at the counter laughed. All of the sudden Stimpy was in front of Jim. “So what’s up buttercup?” Stimpy waived at the laughing customer. All friends here. Jim was going to start the list, but “Order Up!” A waitress, with a crooked smile came in close to get into Stimpy’s face. “Taka Taka” She chimed. Stimpy smiled and started to walk away, he pointed to the laughing customer. “Jim meet Phil.” They nodded at each other. “How ya doin?” “Fine.”

“Well..” Phil said. “I’m having a pretty crappy morning.” Jim could relate. Phil looked slightly disheveled. He nervously removed the top sheet from a stack of papers and slid it over to Jim.

The sheet of paper had a hardly visible duplicated photo on top with the lines below “Have you Seen Mittens? 2 year old black and white cat” with contact information below. Jim stared at the document and the noise of the restaurant became louder. He looked up and saw Phil’s hopeful face. Sinking a little, Jim looked away, praying for a diversion. “Sorry to hear.” Jim said. He pushed the paper back to Phil. Phil looked rather dejected and looked away. SMACK! the metal spatula hit the counter loud enough to quiet the restaurant. Stimpy looked at Jim and said. “You gonna help him out?” He continued “Hey Phil, Jim’s a bit of a detective. Maybe he can find your cat.” He looked at Jim. “What else have you got to do, huh?” Jim smiled but could get the words out.

“What’s up with the cats?”

Next week page 7

Ann Arbor Cat Napper Page 5

Booooots! Where are you?

It seems like everyone is looking for their cat. A distraught, young woman was cautiously, stepping through a small yard. “Boots, Woo hoo” she cooed.

As Jim approached he could see that she had been crying. He didn’t know how to ask her about her missing cat, he assumed it was a cat.  He was close enough to the manager’s place and considered calling for Cuddles. but that’s not how a professional would handle it. Jim was getting back to normal after the morning’s visit from that idiot manager. But the bastard offered him a job, the insults and slapping were free, that took some of the pressure off and being out of the apartment helped.

Meanwhile digging in the hedges the lady, didn’t look up and said. “Hey! Have you seen a black and white cat?”

Jim started to reply and was quickly interrupted. “She never goes far…I don’t know what is going on…” She trailed off while pulling her face out of the shrubs. “I’ve got to get to work. That damn cat!”

Jim did something he never did before, he offered help.

“Look I’m going to be in the neighborhood for awhile, I’m looking for a cat also.” He said.
She looked him over like a judge who is just about to pass sentence. She spoke slowly and a little sideways. “You lookin’ for a cat? I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“I hardly ever come to this neighborhood but I only live a couple of blocks away.” He wanted her to know it was okay. He could be trusted to hold onto Boots if he found her.

“Why are you here anyway?” She said.

“Someone I know lost their cat and he hired me to find it.”

At that point she got the strangest look on her face. He thought she was either going to fall down or hit him.

She recovered and continued, “what’s your name?”

“Jim, but my friends call me Jim.” He tried his very old joke to lighten the mood.

She repeated her earlier look. “Is that funny?”

Jim just couldn’t get it together today. What the hell. He’d rather go home and smoke some medicine.

“I love my cat. If I lose her I don’t know what I’ll do.” Jim heard that before. “I do have to get to work. Why don’t you call me if you find her?”

Jim could tell she didn’t like him. He was used to that. Nobody really seemed to like him. That he couldn’t figure out. But he’d worry about that another time.

He said, “I can do that.” She cautiously gave him the number of the used book store where she worked. She never gave her cell number out, especially to men. The creeps usually would call late and drunk.

Jim started to look around. She turned to go into her apartment and turned, “what’s the name of the cat you are looking for?”

“Cuddles.” Jim said. “Do you know the name?”

“Shit. Yeah I know that cat.” She walked away a little faster. Jim knew that he didn’t have a chance to follow up with a question.

She stopped suddenly and said, “that guy and that girl used to fight over that damn cat. I called the cops one night when he had the cat by the neck and was hanging it out the window. That girl was screaming, she sounded like someone was strangling a frog. I couldn’t sleep for a week after that.”

Jim watched her walk up the stairs. He wanted to say something to get her to stop and tell him more. Being the quick witted genius that he is, he could only say.

“Cuddles… Woo hoo. Boots here puss puss.”