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  • Send Bail Money…

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    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.”

    running chicken 2Be 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…

    The Comment That Started It All

    cell phoneWithin 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.

    posterI 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.

  • Jigsaw IV…

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    Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the dining room…

    jigsaw posterAs cliche as the following statement may be, the scream echoing up the stairwell was enough to make my blood run cold. Hell, it was more than that. It was enough to make me wet myself.

    Therefore, it was a damn good thing my bladder was empty, or I would have had some serious explaining to do. This would not have been easy seeing as I am both too old and too young to be in diapers, so I’m thinking I would have been hard pressed to come up with a suitable excuse in the eyes of the redhead.

    And, speaking of the Fiery Tressed Queen of the Evil Underworld, her worship THE E K herself, the scream sounded again. There were no two ways about it. My wife was screaming. However, even in my half-awake state I could tell that she was screaming at someone – or something – in anger, not in fear. Given that even Satan himself is terrified of E K, this stood to reason.

    A loud crash, followed by a scampering thud wafted up behind the scream, and it was quickly joined by the sound of claws trying to gain traction on hardwood just ahead of the vicious thumping cadence of a pair of Mary Janes. I fumbled over my head and switched off my CPAP, then extracted myself from the mask. Squinting in the darkness while turning my head from side to side, and holding my mouth just so, I eventually managed to get a blurry image from the segmented LED’s on the alarm clock to show up in the general vicinity of my retina. According to the muddled deciphering I somehow managed to do, it appeared to be 1:47 AM. Either that or 7:41 AM. Or even PM.

    Of course, it was also entirely possible that it was Sevum One Oh Forty and a half PMA Greenwich Mean Time. But, I didn’t feel like thinking that hard so I decided to stick with 1:47 AM.

    Throwing back the covers I rolled out of the bed and wandered around to the door. In my stupor I completely forgot to lean the appropriate direction – our bedroom is in the upstairs half-story, you see – and therefore clocked my head on the angled wall. I set about cursing for a moment as I absently rubbed the spot on my forehead that had attempted to dent the drywall, only to find a stud in the way. Little did I know, however, that this was the least of my worries.

    OMG IZ EKStumbling the rest of the way through the dark, I finally arrived at the door and swung it open. No more had I done this than the banshee wail of an angry, firehaired, petite bundle of concentrated eebil rattled up the stairwell once again. This time it sounded closer. Much closer.

    The thumping of frantic paws with extended claws – (say that three times fast) – was closer still, and hot on their trail were the Mary Janes. A split second behind the scream and melange of thundering footsteps, a 28 pound domestic gray tabby bounced off the wall in front of me, did a triple flip in the air before sticking his dismount on the stairway landing. He then spun in place twice, rolled over, ran backwards into the office door, somersaulted, and then finally, with puffed tail, ears laid back, and eyes wide in abject fright, he ran directly between my legs and into the bedroom.

    However, I didn’t get the opportunity to see exactly where he went in the bedroom, because before I even had the chance to think about turning to look a blur of red whipped around the corner and slammed into me full force.  Immediately following the impact I found myself flat on my back with one Mary Jane in my stomach and the other planted on my face. The evil redhead stood there on top of me, so intent on her mission, that she was completely oblivious to the fact that I was now serving as her squishy carpet.

    “DAMMIT! Come back here with that you little fleabag!” She screamed.

    “Kahhmmm nabbner wib uht?” I asked.

    I barely managed to croak out the question in a muffled voice. After all, she had knocked the wind out of my lungs when she ran right up me and danced on my head. Besides, I was trying to talk through the sole of her shoe, which is probably why she didn’t hear me. Either that, or she fully intended to ignore me. With E K you just never know.

    “There you are,” my wife finally hissed, but judging from the direction of her gaze it was obvious that the comment was not aimed at me.

    Still atop me, E K began to emit a throaty yowl while simultaneously doing the feline “butt wiggle”. You know, that little dance cats do whenever they have spotted their prey and are getting ready to pounce. (I keep telling you folks her name is Kat for a reason…) But, before the redhead could make her move there was a loud, hiss-yowl combination from the corner of the room, followed by thudding paws. A heartbeat later a gray blur flew through the air past her, only barely evading her grasp. At least, that is what it appeared to be from my vantage point, trying to see around a Mary Jane that was still in the middle of leaving an indelible impression on face.

    E K jumped, and I said, “Ooofff!”

    I said this primarily because she had used me as a springboard, however I have to admit that part of it was also because I knew someday this incident would become a blog entry and as it happens I just love onomatopoeia. At any rate, the next thing I heard was the wild scream of the redhead receding back down the stairs as she chased the gray feline for some yet unknown – but obviously quite  earthshattering – reason.

    Mistress JigsawAfter dragging myself up from the floor, against my better judgment I decided to stumble down the stairs to investigate.

    While a wildly screaming redhead wasn’t all that unusual around our house, nor was a scampering cat, the fact that this was occurring at oh-dark-thirty in the A.M. definitely had my curiosity piqued.

    By the time I made my way to the main floor and rounded the curved landing, all was deathly quiet. This could be a good thing, or it could be a bad thing. If I suddenly heard the sound of a meat cleaver hitting the chopping block in the kitchen, it was definitely going to go down in my books as not so good. Especially if E K expected me to clean up the mess.

    Cautiously, I made my way through the living room and into the dining room. Just as I was nearing the kitchen doorway, Her Supreme Evilness stepped through, barring my path. I immediately jumped back for fear that I was about to become her runway and launching pad once again. However, she was moving at a much less frantic pace, although her brow was deeply furrowed in the patented, “E K is NOT amused” fashion.

    In her right hand she held the gray tabby by the scruff of the neck. The oversized mouse catcher – who has never caught a mouse in his life, by the way – was looking at me with imploring eyes that said, “Please Save Me!” This stood out as extremely unusual since the gray tabby is scared to death of me, but absolutely adores the redhead. Without saying a word, in a display of uncanny strength, E K thrust the massive blob of fur at me. I took it from her and it immediately tried to crawl inside my T-shirt to hide from a fate worse than death.

    Still mute, her supreme eebilness made a deliberate beeline for the dining room table, perched herself in a chair, then plunked a half chewed, cat slobber covered puzzle piece into an empty hole on the jigsaw that was laid out before her.

    The issue of earth shattering importance was now readily apparent.

    I didn’t interrupt the Queen. Instead, I sent the feline downstairs into the basement where he could hide and I returned to bed – after scrubbing the shoeprint off my face, of course. When I re-awoke at my usual hour of rising, that being 5:30 AM, E K was just then coming to bed. I wandered downstairs and started the coffee, casting a quick glance at the dining table on the way through the room. One look confirmed my suspicions – the jigsaw puzzle was completed, cat slobber and all.

    You see, E K is a certified – maybe even certifiable – Puzzle Dominatrix who is afflicted with JOCD (Jigsaw Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder). She will continue to torture a jigsaw, no matter how many pieces it contains and for however how long it takes – sans food or sleep – until she has beaten it into complete and total submission. And Gods help anyone – or any creature – that gets in her way. Especially if they take one of her puzzle pieces.

    One of her nicknames is even “The Puzzle Mistress”…

    So, if you ever want to drive the redhead up a wall, just give her a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of missing pieces. But, if you’re smart you’ll send it to her anonymously, because when she gets down to those missing pieces… Well, let’s just say that in our basement we have some 10,000 piece 3D puzzles that look remarkably like some people who used to be our friends, but whom we haven’t seen for several years.

    And, every time I ask E K where she purchased these puzzles, she just smiles an eebil smile…

    A VERY Eebil smile.

    More to come…

    Murv