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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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No hon kat in shawnee cty jail

5:15 PM Fri, Nov 6

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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

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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

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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

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I wish

My reply kept things rolling…

5:24 PM Fri, Nov 6

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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

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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

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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

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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

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You know this is blog material

5:50 PM Fri, Nov 6

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Yeah

5:52 PM Fri, Nov 6

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Srsly 😀

5:53 PM Fri, Nov 6

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Poopie head….

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

5:56 PM Fri, Nov 6

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Plotting your demise as we speak….

But, I was ready for that one…

5:59 PM Fri, Nov 6

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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

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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.

Well, it seems I screwed up.  Nothing so bad as to warrant a beating from E K… Well, scratch that, actually. E K never really seems to need a reason to hand out beatings… But, be that as it may, I think I escaped the wrath of the Evil Redhead for this particular infraction.

Maybe…

You see, I entered the wrong date into the post scheduler for my most recent blog (Mindy, Hold The Mork…) and therefore it deployed a day early. Now, normally folks would think of this as a Christmas in August sort of thing. You know, early present and all, but that just isn’t how my luck runs. Nope. Not in the least. It seems Anastasia, (yes, that Anastasia) who is apparently taking EVIL lessons from E K, informed me that if this premature post-aculation meant she was going to have to wait an extra day in between blog entries that I had better write a “bonus blog” or she would complain to E K and then help her do bad things to me. Of course, we all know where that will lead, and my insurance carrier is ready to drop me as it is…

So, as an act of self-preservation, after spending much of the day cowering in the corner with Satan, who still can’t seem to shake this morning’s Redhead Rampage, I figured I’d better make something… errr… ummm… write something up. So, since I already had notes on hand for the continuing adventures of Karen and Mindy, I figured what the hell…

It was a Thursday. A Thursday like any other Thursday, except that Mindy had dressed down for the day and Karen was in a mood. Now, granted, Karen was always in a bit of a mood, what with wanting to shoot everyone, but she was actually a bit more surly than usual. She might have even been carrying explosives in her purse, but I wasn’t about to ask.

The conversation had been raging on about blog entries and humorless folks for several minutes, and was now starting to wind down. I had no more finished jotting a few notes about the West county water issues than Mindy pointed at me and exclaimed, “Murv! You aren’t going to blog about that are you?”

I shrugged. “Why not? It’s funny.”

“You want funny?” Big K asked.

“Sure, but I think we’ve pretty much worn out the whole gun thing,” I told her.

She huffed then cocked her head to the side and said, “Oh yeah, well what about underwear?”

Now I was intrigued, but by the same token I was unable to hold back my compulsion to pun.

“Depends,”  I quipped.

“Yeah, real funny, Murv. Don’t make me shoot you.”

“Yeah, okay, so what about underwear? I’m wearing tighty whities.”

“Murv!” Mindy yelped.

“Hey, I actually used to get that question and booksigning Q&A’s.” I shrugged. “Now I just get it out of the way from the start.”

“People really asked you that?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“Shoulda shot ’em,” Karen added on cue, just as I’d expected she would.

Mindy spoke up again, directing herself to Karen. “So, is this about that guy? You know, the one you yelled at?”

“I yell at everyone,” Karen replied.

“I know, I know,” Mindy agreed. “But isn’t this the story about that guy with the pink pants?”

“Yeah,” Karen answered with a nod. “Pink pants and bright green little boy underwear.”

I was no longer intrigued. Now I was just mildly disturbed, however I simply couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but how did you know what color his underwear was?”

Karen’s voice was as deadpan matter-of-fact as I had ever heard. “Because he had his damn pink pants pulled down below his cheeks.”

“Ass cheeks?”

“Well yeah…” she answered, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “They’d look pretty damn weird up around his face cheeks, don’tcha think?”

I held up my hands in surrender. “I was just asking.”

Karen shook her head. “And you write books for a living? Sheesh. You been drinking West county water too?”

I ignored the jibe and asked, “Okay, so I have to know… How did you see this? Did you follow him into the men’s room or something?”

“No. This was in the meat department.”

Now, there’s something I forgot to mention folks – Karen works in the meat department at a local market.

“Rump roast then,” I said.

“Wasn’t on sale that day.”

“I was joking. Who’s been drinking the water now?”

“My gun is in my purse you know.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Tell Murv what you did,” Mindy interjected, trying to avoid bloodshed. She seemed far more excited about the story than Karen. But then, Mindy was definitely the excitable one. Karen just approached everything with calm detachment before pulling out a gun and killing it.

“I went and got my knife,” she said.

“No gun?” I asked.

“I was at work. Can’t bring guns into work, dammit.”

“Oh, I see.”

“So, I got my big knife. Not the little one. The really big one. Then I went over and told him he needed to pull up his pants because the rest of the customers didn’t want his butt germs on their dinner.”

“So did he?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “He gave a bunch of attitude. Told me his butt didn’t have germs, which is a crock because everybody’s butt has butt germs. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that.”

“And you put up with him giving you attitude?”

“Hell no. I showed him my knife.”

“Ahhh, so then he pulled up his pants?”

“No. Then we had a wet cleanup in that aisle.”

I raised an eyebrow and began considering my options for escaping the table if I started feeling any more alarmed than I already was. I tried to keep my voice calm as I asked, “You killed him?”

“Oh hell no. Didn’t have to. He peed all over himself.”

“Ahhhhh… Okay.”

Karen shrugged. “Yeah, it was kinda funny. Anyway, then I went and put out some more chickens.”

“You mean like whole roasters and fryers?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I took the opportunity to divert the topic toward recipes. “Since you brought up butts, have you ever made beer butt chicken?”

“You mean where you stick the can up the chicken’s butt? Oh yeah, love it.”

“I just don’t know how you do that,” Mindy announced.

“What?” Karen said, incredulity in her voice. “You just stick the can up its butt and put it on the grill. It ain’t hard. You do have beer out in West county, right?”

“Ewww,” Mindy replied, scrunching up her face then shuddering. “I couldn’t do that. I’ve never even bought a chicken.”

“You haven’t? Are you a vegetarian?” I asked.

“No,” Mindy replied. “I eat chicken, I’ve just never bought one.”

“Well what the hell do you do?” Karen asked, coming upright in her seat. “Steal ’em?”

“No,…” Mindy began, trying desperately to explain.

“I shoulda known,” Karen continued, talking right over the top of her. “Damn West county people. I bet you wear green underwear too…”

More to come…

Murv