BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

On a recent episode of Castle, ABC’s “Moonlighting-esque” pseudo-police procedural, quick-witted “dramedy” – well, recent as of this writing which is somewhat in advance of official posting – author Richard Castle, portrayed by Nathan “Cap’n Tightpants” Fillion, was discussing with his homicide detective “partner” the life changing events that had brought them both to this point in their lives. “This Point” being what led them to be fascinated with murder and solving the mysteries surrounding same. His partner, Detective Kate Beckett, portrayed by Stana Katic, came to her profession due to the fact that her mother had been murdered. When the question was posed to Castle, he related an intricate story about his childhood and discovering the corpse of a playmate on a beach.

In response to this, Beckett is sympathetic at first, and rightfully so given the power of the tale, and the emotional response it evoked. However, within moments she asks something to the effect of, “Wait, did you just make that up?” To which Castle grins and replies, amazed that she would even have to ask, “It’s what I do.”

And so, we have the crux of the story here – “It’s what I do.”

The absolute truth of the matter is that I have stated that EXACT sentence countless times over the past decade. I’m a writer. A fiction writer. I make crap up all the time. It’s what I do…

Now, before you get the idea that I am taking them to task about this, I am most certainly not. I have yet to don an aluminum foil hat because I don’t in any way believe that someone is reading my thoughts or even following me around writing down what I say to use in TV shows. After all, the aforementioned phrase isn’t exactly some utterly unique combination of words – hell, one could even say that it was yet another homage to Fillion’s role in the series Firefly, more specifically the resulting movie, Serenity, as early in the movie he says to another character, “It’s what I do, darlin’… It’s what I do.”

Be that as it may, when it comes to making up stories, just like the fictional author Richard Castle, this real life author makes a living at it too – that’d be me, just in case I’ve lost you somewhere along this barnyard chicken chase…

There are those times, however, when also like Castle sitting across from Beckett, making stuff up is for reasons other than a paycheck. Sometimes it’s to whitewash over a painful truth (although I don’t recommend this reason, as it just gets messy and even more painful), or more importantly, in my case, to flex the neurons and keep the old brainpan engaged and entertained. Such was the case this past November 6…

E K, the o-spring, and I set out for Kansas. Not in search of Auntie Em, Dorothy, Ruby Slippers, Tornadoes, Toto, or even Wheat. Actually, a good friend was getting married and we were making the jaunt to attend the ceremony and following reception type festivities. I had dropped him a note letting him know we would be leaving STL bound for the KC area around 11:30AM. Unfortunately, we were delayed by about an hour. Not really a big deal. We still had plenty of time since things weren’t getting underway until 8 PM, however, when we didn’t arrive on schedule as expected, our friend, Duane, began to worry. Also unfortunately, due to recently losing his cell phone, Duane had also lost both E Kay’s and my cell numbers. Therefore, he did the only thing a panicky groom could do – he surfed over to a mutual friend’s Facebook page and left a note. And this, my dear readers, is where the snowball of “it’s what I do” began to form. Therefore, if we step back and look at what ensued in the proper perspective, it’s really all Duane’s fault. But, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself…

Within a very short few minutes after Duane left the above comment/message for Johnathan, we walked through his front door in Lenexa, KS. Of course, we were almost immediately subjected to a tongue lashing over not having called to say we were running late, whereupon E K kicked him really hard in the nether regions and asked him if he would really like to continue being so disrespectful to her. His response was a somewhat high-pitched “no”, whereupon she made him kiss her feet while he apologized profusely for daring to raise his voice to her supreme redheadedness. Still, as evil as she is, since he was getting married she had an attack of compassion and allowed him to live. She did, however, add the caveat “for now.” She then made certain the bride-to-be had her cell number on speed dial in case she needed her assistance in teaching Duane the proper hierarchy in the relationship. After all, E K is an expert and putting men in their place, which is usually somewhere in the general vicinity of the floor, or tied up in the basement, of course.

Then, the real fun began, and it didn’t even have anything to do with E K torturing Duane…

My phone did its little vibro dance and chirped out a metallic ding to notify me of an incoming text message. What you are about to read, with a bit of commentary added, are the actual text messages exchanged over the following hour…

5:04 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

It’s Rhonda. Do-Wayne is on FB freaking customer you’re late. Give him a buzz, please. KTHXBAI!

5:04 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Damn this phone…. “freaking BECAUSE you’re late” ….stupid dictionary change my words….

Rhonda is another mutual friend. I love Rhonda like a little sister and her husband Dave like a little brother. And, I also love making stuff up to screw with them because they are both so good-natured about enjoying a well woven prank. Therefore, I had no choice but to reply with:

5:07 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

You got access 2 cash? EK arrested

Her reply told me that the start of my story was misunderstood.

5:12 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Yeah, like I’d bail him outta that one. What’d he do THIS time?

Since Rhonda also knows Duane, she naturally assumed he had done something to antagonize The Evil Redhead, as he so often does, and that he was the one wearing handcuffs. After all, E K does have the “sexy dominatrix cop” costume from Halloweens past, and she’s not afraid to use it. I hastened to straighten out that particular point, lest the story forming in my head go unused, which would have been a crying shame…

5:14 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

No hon kat in shawnee cty jail

5:15 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Ah. What’d SHE do?

At this point, even with it being a text message, I could sense that Rhonda was merely playing along, fully expecting my reply to be a punch line. However, my brain had been atrophying due to watching asphalt slip by the window for over 4 plus hours. It needed a bit of exercise and the story treadmill was already running. I couldn’t stop now… I mean, after all, it was a moral imperative that I see it through to a satisfactory conclusion.

As my mind raced, I also remembered something important – Whenever texting I tend to be meticulous about forming coherent sentences with full words. I’m just not the type to do text speak, unless I’m in a big hurry. It was obvious to my runaway gray matter that in order to be convincing, now would be one of those frantic times and I needed to start texting like a twenty-something.

5:18 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Argued w cop wtg 4 call frm atty

That prompted a query which told me I was on the right track…

5:21 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

I’m assuming you’re yanking my chain, as you are apt to do…

As I suspected, Rhonda wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Not a problem. I was expecting as much. Besides, what fun would this be unless there was a bit of a challenge?

5:22 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

I wish

My reply kept things rolling…

5:24 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

I’ll need more convincing before I haul ass off this couch….

Now it was time to pull out some stops. We did a frantic search for a pair of handcuffs so that we could stage a mock arrest out on the street in front of Duane’s house that I could capture with my cell phone camera, then picture message to Rhonda. Unfortunately, E K had left her cuffs at home. Besides, we didn’t have a cop car or cop on hand to enhance the photo. I was going to have to paint the picture with words, and since that’s… yeah… what I do… I decided to become suitably distracted and leverage Rhonda’s imagination against her.

5:26 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Cant talk atty

I set it up…

8 minutes later I kicked the chair out from underneath the noose…

5:34 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

F*ck! Hlding her ovr 4 bail hrng mndy

A minute after that, my phone dinged. Even the mechanical sound and jittery vibration of the electronic device came across as concerned and frantic. I read the screen, and announced to the audience sitting about the living room that the hook was set, the catch reeled in, and it was time for the reveal, because Rhonda had sent…

5:35 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

We can get about a grand, probably…let me know.

Now, I need to point out something that is very important to this entire endeavor. Had this been executed in a different fashion, with me being the one behind the bars, I would have never been able to pull it off. You see, I started out being the cool writer guy and friend, but before long the redhead had taken my place. Yes. For some reason, Rhonda and Dave worship the ground she walks on. What this irresistible power she has over folks happens to be, I have no idea. My best guess is that it’s the red hair. In any event, at this point they were actually willing to scrape together cash and beat feet to wherever we were in order to rescue the redhead from the evil clutches of the local constabulary. Had the tables been turned, I’m betting it would have been more like, “You’re in jail? HA! Sucks to be you…”

Okay, just kidding. But not about the part where they literally worship the redhead, because they do and that’s what helped make the story work. While they wouldn’t have really just blown me off as far as being in jail, the joke would never have progresses beyond “Yeah, right, not buying it” had E K or Duane ostensibly been texting them that I was the “arrestee”.

At this juncture I made a voice call – something I would have done to begin with had this been real, not to mention that I would have been calling my attorney not my non-attorney friends. After all, this is definitely not something one handles via text message and we simply do not hit up friends for money over anything, period. It’s not how E K and I work.

Either way, after a single ring I connected with a somewhat frantic Rhonda. After weaving a bit more of the tale about how we’d been pulled over, E K had argued with the cop, then gone ballistic and started slapping him around which resulted in her arrest, I paused for effect.

I allowed her stunned silence to hang in the air for a moment or two, then let her off the hook, because even though Duane wanted to get back on Facebook and see how much farther we could take the prank, I’m nowhere near as Evil as EKay, and wasn’t willing to torture Rhonda any more than I already had. Especially since her husband, Dave, was in the background having a nervous breakdown while putting everything they own up for sale on Craigslist in order to raise bail money while simultaneously plotting a prison break. After all, this was only a joke and it was time for it to end before it got out of hand.

Besides, like I said, for some odd reason these two absolutely worship The Evil Redhead and we didn’t want them skulking about in the darkness trying to break her out of a jail she wasn’t even in…

And so, Rhonda called me a few choice names. We shared a good laugh. She made some threats that I am reasonably certain she learned from EKay, called me some more unrepeatable names (unrepeatable because I’m not even sure what some of them mean), and then we shared some more laughs…

A few minutes later while we were still waiting for the wedding hour to arrive, I felt compelled to warn Rhonda of impending bloggage…

5:45 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

You know this is blog material

5:50 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Yeah

5:52 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Srsly 😀

5:53 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Poopie head….

While normally this would be the end, Rhonda decided to fire a parting shot…

5:56 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Plotting your demise as we speak….

But, I was ready for that one…

5:59 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

You don’t scare me I’m married to EK 😉

There was only one response Rhonda could make to that trump card…

6:05 PM Fri, Nov 6

——————————————————-

Pbbbbbbbbbbb!

:-p’.

I suspect Rhonda and Dave will plot something good. These are some wayyyy smart cookies we’re talking about here. And, I’m certain it’ll be funny for all involved. Of course, if they get E K in on it, I might end up with a few size 7 stiletto heeled pump shaped bruises up and down my body, but what’s new about that? Like I told Rhonda, I’m married to E K – that’s par for the course.

Still, my friends should bear in mind something ultimately important about the whole making up stories thing:

It’s what I do…

More to come…

Murv

PS. BTW, if you aren’t already watching Castle, you should be.

…how to walk in high heels. Trust me, she knows… But, I suppose I should back that up with an explanation.

Now, I have to begin with the fact that we are not talking about E K here. This is not to say that she doesn’t have the aforementioned talent, because she does, in spades. However, in this particular instance I am waxing poetic (as you will see) about another young lady.

As you all well know, I travel a fair bit for book tours and the like – that much is a given. And, during my travels I see things. Sometimes they are frightening, sometimes they are strange, sometimes they are interesting, and sometimes I have no clue what the hell I am witnessing.

And then, there’s Leg Girl.

The Legend Of Leg Girl began several years ago on a weekend trip to Nashville, Tennessee to do a book signing and seminar. My dear friend and fellow author, Tish Owen, also owns a bookstore called Goddess And The Moon. I’ve done several signings there, and I always have a blast hanging out with her, her clientele, her husband Patrick who is my cigar smoking and booze drinking buddy, and all of my other friends there in “music city”.

Well, as the true story goes, one Saturday night after spending the day presenting a workshop on writing, and then signing a mess of books in one of the meeting rooms at the shopping mall across from where Goddess and the Moon was then located – it has since moved – we were going back to the store for a bit of a soiree. Wine, beer, booze, cheese, crackers, munchies, etc. You know the drill. Folks were going to come by, visit, have books signed, get a photo op or two, and all that jazz. Typical book store event sort of stuff. A great chance to just chill out and relax.

Unfortunately, the day had been so hectic for poor Tish and her staff that she had not yet had the opportunity to go pick up the aforementioned noshing items and beverages. Since I had nothing to do between finishing the seminar and the start of the soiree, I volunteered to ride along with Tish and help with the toting, lifting and other such stuff at the grocery store. And so, off we went…

No more had we pulled into the parking lot and begun our search for a space than out in front of us steps “Leg Girl”… All of mid twenties, great hair, hourglass figure, and most prominently on display a set of legs that a Rockette would sell her soul to have. And, I do mean prominently on display, for you see, this entire package was wrapped in nothing more than a sheer blouse, blazer, flared miniskirt – and I do mean MINIskirt – and patent leather stiletto heeled pumps. This was despite the fact that we were at the end of November and the temperature was in the mid forties or thereabouts.

And no, she was NOT a figment of my hormone driven imagination. Tish saw her too. In fact, Tish saw her so well that she was infuriated…

Allow me to explain. You see, Leg Girl literally stepped right out in front of us and began to slowly saunter up the middle of the aisle in the parking lot. Not to the left, not to the right. She was smack dab in the middle of the lane and Tish was unable to get around her. And saunter Leg Girl did. Slowly, deliberately, and swaying with a rhythm that would bring any red-blooded heterosexual male to his knees.

Well, suffice it to say, I had no room on the floorboards in order to get on my knees, not that I didn’t try. Still, even though I was unable to assume the appropriate position of Goddess Worship, I was mesmerized. Tish, however, was most assuredly not. Somehow, and I don’t know how, through my hypnotic stupor I was able to recognize this fact and managed to persuade Tish not to run over Leg Girl – trust me, that took some doing because that was exactly what Tish was intending to do.

Ever since that day, Leg Girl has been a running joke between Tish and me. Every time she books me for a gig at the store, or at PUF, she asks if there is anything special I need, and I always reply, “I need Leg Girl to be my handler for the weekend.” (“Handler” as in liaison / gopher / assistant… Let’s keep it clean here folks…)

Fortunately for me, though always promised by Tish – followed by a healthy chuckle, of course – Leg Girl has never materialized for said duties. Not that I would complain, however E K probably wouldn’t be particularly excited by it. In fact, I’m not really sure which one of us she would kill first…

But anyway, the Legend Of Leg Girl kind of… well… ummm… the legend has legs so to speak – no pun intended. Really. Seriously… But, pun or no, the events of that evening actually inspired a lyrical parody, written by yours truly.

Maybe someday, if we happen to have someone on site who knows all the chords to the original song, I’ll get drunk enough to perform this ditty at PUF…

Leg Girl

(To the tune of Two Hangmen by Mason Proffit)

As I rolled into Nashville with my friend her name is Tish

I saw what I’ll relate to you and it was quite a pretty dish

It seems there was this woman, who had this pair of gams

They went all the way up to her neck, and that’s
where it began

The woman’s name was Leg Girl, the best that I could see

She like to show her legs off, and that’s okay with me

I guess she saw me coming, and donned that mini skirt

And stockings and stiletto heels just so she could
flirt

She walked across the parking lot, right down the center aisle

She swayed and sauntered like a dream, it really made me smile

She stopped a moment in our way and then she tossed her hair

The wind picked up and her miniskirt billowed with
much flair

The driver’s name was Tish Owen, she said this bitch is slow

I’m gonna run her over now if she doesn’t start to go

I said to Tish please don’t do that, I really like this sight

She went to all this trouble so just let her make my night.

The wind continued blowing and gave Leg Girl a goose

She moved a little faster now, but still shook her caboose

Tish was laughing hard at me, as I began to drool

Leg Girl was such an awesome treat that made me
act the fool

Tish finally found a parking space and pulled in with a squeal

Leg Girl was going into the store on teetering high heels

We followed along behind her, and then she disappeared

But I saw her again as we checked out, with a case
or two of beeeeeeeeeeeeeer…

(Chorus)

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

(Repeat Whole Bunches Of Times)

One more time!

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

More to come…

Murv