The Witch and the Fool - Part 1

Note: I submitted a flash-fiction of this tale to a contest a while back and received a lot of positive feedback. I am now fleshing out the story a bit. The main character is in fact the witch that has appeared in the CD projects in the past. She was always one of the more fun characters to write, so I thought I'd do a little backstory tale on her. I realized no one looks at this, but it does my heart good to put something out. Work has burned me out, and I need something away from the job to engage me again.

The Witch and the Fool

I loved once.

It sounds absurd to say all these ages and worlds later, but it is true nonetheless. It might be absurd, but I’ll say it again and my heart shall rejoice in it. I loved once.

His name was Isad, a slave of some lord whose name has disappeared into some deep cavern in my ancient mind. They called my Isad a fool, and it is true that his mind was not sharp, but he made up for it in spades with heart. The kind of heart that the divine surely meant for all men, but only remained true in those without designs for power.

That was my first world, when the divine birthed me unto existence. The process was painful and bloody like any other birth, but I assure you that I sprang forth more from the loins of the cold, unforgiving earth than from any woman’s womb. For I am Matris, daughter of the Green, witch sister of the eternals and mother of the Dragon’s breath.

As if my birthing ripped the last of the power of the Green from that place, a bitter drought gripped the land. Skeletal trees stood barren of leaves and fruit. Rivers dried, crops failed and lush, fertile farms gave way to dust. Like the land, the hearts of man dried of love and pumped vengeance into willing veins.

Of course the fruits of that malice spawned my only true love, and for that, I give thanks. For love – even love doomed from the start – mends even the most scarred soul. It’s a salve for the wounds of loss, the lingering sores from encounters with the Dark and the ache of countless years.

 Let me say it again.

I loved once, and this is the tale of my love.

Red's book reviews

I'm at the halfway point of the year, and while I haven't read quite as much as usual, I've read a fair amount. Here's my general thoughts on this batch. 

A Feast of Crows – George R.R. Martin

Started the year with the fourth book in the Game of Thrones series and is really the first part of two books, if the afterword by Martin is to be believed. Actually, the afterword cleared up some thoughts that were running through my head. The first being is how could he completely leave Tyrion Lannister out of this book after the cliffhanger that ended the third book. Instead of returning to the driving story, Martin switched to a series of side characters. Having to start new with some, and sort of focus on a couple of the less intriguing characters, made it harder to stay interested through the 700 pages. Once I read the next book, hopefully it will tie the two parts together. 

The Wind Through the Keyhole – Stephen King

As it turns out, King had one more key on his belt concerning the Dark Tower series. Instead of picking up the story after the conclusion of the series, we get a side story that fits into the middle of the series. It's sort of like a hidden track on a CD. As the gang rides out a storm, the Gunslinger actually tells a story inside another story. I like the story is fine, but I didn't feel like the writing was quite as inspired or ambitious as King's attempts in the other Dark Tower book.  The twice told story sheds a bit of light on the Gunslinger's past. It was nice to return to the path, for a brief moment. I'll be interested to see what it reads like when placed within the order of the series. 

Hearts in Atlantis – Stephen King

This is four separate stories with various characters appearing in each. My initial interest in the book came from the fact that a character from the first story actually appears toward the end of the Dark Tower series. I wanted to see what was going on here to enrich my experience with the other series. The underlying theme of this book is the loss of innocence, chiefly being the loss America's innocence via the 1960s and the Vietnam conflict. At times, it becomes preachy, but I can't deny it made me think about the sad reality that we can never go back.

Into the Wild - John Krakauer

This is an investigative piece on Chris McCandless, an eccentric who in the early 1990s disappeared into the American West. Nearly a year later, his body was found in Alaska. The reporter delves into McCandless' journey, the reasons behind it and the overall question of how and why he lived and died. This became a movie a few years back, but I haven't had a chance to watch it yet. It's no secret that McCandless starved to death, although the cause of that starvation is speculated to be poisoning from seeds that he ate. I read this very quickly, as the journey and its motivation was intriguing. There's a romantic quality to his nomadic journey. The idea of trying to leave civilization and its trappings is appealing, to some degree. I admire the risk, and has left me thinking about how taking risks is part of living. 

• Well that is it so far this year. Like I said, not as productive of a reader this year as I have been in the past. Right now, I am onto a book called High Cotton, which is about growing cotton in the Mississippi Delta. 

Spirit in the Night: Third Installment

Note: I sort of hit a wall on this story, as to how to get it from start to resolution. I sort of feel like there isn't much movement forward here. 

G-Man

In the fire, flickers of his past danced between logs in mixed, confused dramas just the same as they did in G-Man’s corrupted mind. At the bottom was his earliest memory, back in the days when he was just Gordy LaHarpe, son of Gene and the late Vicki.

He was six, maybe seven. Fat. Always fat. Cheeks bursting out with both halves of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich jammed behind a big, gapping grin.  King Kong Bundy was on the tube squashing some no-name slub on the Sunday morning wrestles. He loved the wrestles. Bundy was fat like Gordy, but no one messed with him. Someday, no one would mess with Gordy either.

“Kick him, Bundy!” He shouted at the old black-and-white screen. Behind him Gene LaHarpe broke a snore, and Gordy covered his mouth.

Gene LaHarpe still wore the grease-and-soot stained uniform from his Saturday night overtime shift down at the forge of Lincoln Hardware. His big steel-toe boots were hiked up on the footstool in front of his chair. They were black from the forge and chipped in spots where sparks jumped from the forge for a hot kiss with the leather.

“Gordy?” The word came out slow like Gene’s tongue weighed a ton. “I’ll be God damned. What have I told you about waking me in my chair.”

“Sorry, sir.” Gordy spit out between the remaining hunks of sandwich in his mouth. “I got excited about Bundy, that’s all.”

“Bundy? Not that sissy wrestles,” Gene sat up, squinting at the screen, while holding his hand to his head. “That shit ain’t real. I’ve told you to stop watchin’ that a hundert times.”

A smarter boy would have left it at that, knowing the temper of Gene LaHarpe when he woke from a short slumber. Even then Gordy wasn’t smart. He wasn’t as dumb as he’d soon be, but he still wasn’t a sharp tool.

“It’s real, you just don’t understand it,” he said. “Look at Bundy, he just kicked that slub in the head, and he’s hurt real bad. Now he’s going squash him! Get him Bundy! When I get big, I’ll be just like Bundy. I’ll smash everyone. You’ll see.”

“I’ll see!” Gene shot up from the chair. He stood well over six feet and towered over his son. The same son who cost him his Vicki during a violent birth. “What the hell does that mean? You threatening me, boy.”

“No, I was just…” Gordy couldn’t get the words through the chunky peanut butter. Before he could start again, the size 13 boot of his father came down across his forehead. Somewhere a bell was ringing, and he actually turned his head to see if Bundy had finished off the slub. The images on the screen were all scrambled and a rainbow of colors spiraled out like a pinwheel. Before he could call out the colors like at school, something thumped against the back of his head, chewed up sandwiched splattered on the floor below him before everything went dark.

G-Man took a drag from his cigarette. He’d seen that vision in the flames a thousand times. A few logs up a better memory played out, and just like the first one, this vision was just for him and no one else.

Gene LaHarpe stood before the huge furnace door at the forge. Inside, the flames danced high, burning at an ungodly temperature to melt steel. He was feeding the flames during another late night shift alone. The factory was loud still, and that made it easy for G-Man – now a burly teenager with a noticeable dent in his forehead and a grudge against dear old daddy.

“It’ was so easy,” G-Man smiled.

Gene, as always, was so focused on his work that he never noticed his son Gordy sneak up from behind with a steel pipe in his hand. Gene’s skull squashed under the pipe. That one hit was all it really took. Gene stumbled forward toward the open furnace door, and G-Man shoved him all the way through. The screams were horrendous, but G-Man could not take his eyes away from the melting form of his father. He closed the furnace door before it was over, but from then on he was fascinated by the dance of flames.

“See papa, I got big like Bundy, and no one could mess with me. Especially you.”

There were half dozen logs on the fire with other memories, but they were scrambled just like the wrestles after his dad had kicked him. Besides, those were the two that he could always see.

An engine broke the quiet behind the shack, and he rose from one of the lawn chairs he had set up. The chairs were stolen from various decks around Lincoln. When times are tough, fingers get sticky. That’s what Killer Joe said, and G-Man liked that idea. He liked Joe well enough to put up with his mouth. He chose another log from the stack he had made for the night and tossed it on the fire.

“Time for a new memory.” He smiled, his tongue sticking out between the gaps between his front two teeth.

WILD BILLY

“What a shithole.” Billy said. Before him was the humble abode of the eloquent Killer Joe and the massive G-Man. The two-story country house had what looked to be the original wood as siding. Most of the exterior was exposed gray, but some spots had patches of old paint. Some white. Some green. The shingles were also wood, but stripped in spots. Across the left side, a blue tarp covered a caved in portion of the roof. The upstairs windows were busted out with plywood slats filling the gaps. The first floor windows were intact, each with four panes. The front door was red, likely stolen from some lumberyard.

“We’re working on it,” Joe said, holding Billy’s duffle bag from the pokey. “It’s not the penthouse, but it’s not the outhouse either.”

A shiver worked its way up Billy’s spine. His uncle had called his guestroom the penthouse. Billy had spent two summers at his uncle’s farm the next county over when he was 10 and 11. He arrived the first day, his fat uncle wearing bibs and a gray T-shirt. The first two weeks had been about work, cleaning up pig shit and lifting bales of hay. He hated the work, but by the end of the third week, he would have cleaned every pen with his tongue instead of the real reason his uncle had asked his sister for her troublesome son for the summer.

It was a damp morning, that’s all he could remember. He entered the kitchen, taking off his muck boots. His uncle sat at the table, a stack of bills sitting on the table.

“Listen, bub,” His uncle opened a beer bottle using the edge of the table. “I’ve got a friend waiting for you up in the penthouse.”

“What for?”

Before he could flinch, his uncle’s hand was around his throat. He could smell the pig shit under the man’s fingernails. Quickly the world at the edge of his vision started to turn dark.

“Bub, you mine while you under my roof. Now, when I let you go, you best head up to the penthouse and see my friend. He’ll tell you what to do, and you’ll do it. Do you understand me?”

He remembered standing at the bottom of the rickety stairs with the loose banister, the smell of cigarette smoke wafting down from above, and it seemed real dark. He remembered screaming and crying and hating and hating and hating.

“Let’s do this.”

“What?”

“Come on, man. G-Man has the fire going. Let’s go.”

Billy slipped a cigarette between his lips, noticing for the first time the plume of smoke rising from behind the shack.

Red's Kip Winger Review - Part 5 (final)

Note: Well this is it. Last part of review. Overall, these two CDs are solid. I'd say most of these songs, I'd rank somewhere to the high-middle range in terms of where they sit my grand music collection. I don't know if any will ever rise into the upper-echelon in my favorites category, but none of them will slip into the bottom wing, always skip portion of it either. I don't know if any of what I just wrote made sense. Anyways, here you go.

Aranda – Gravity, Testify

"Gravity" sounds like a song that would have fit perfectly into the sound of the late 1990s early 2000s rock scene. Considering that's when I was listening to new music the most, it sort of sings to my youth. "Testify" has a different sound, different rhythm than "Gravity," which shows the range and experimentation of the band. I think I'd listen to "Gravity" more often, but "Testify" is one of those tunes that gets the foot tapping. 

Sara Schiralli – Incomplete

I like how theirs a progression of sound and instruments in this song. It starts with guitar and voice, ten add drums about 30 seconds in, and then an influx of sounds keep dropping into the tune. Good tune. 

The Shins – It's Okay, Try Again

I'm hot and cold with The Shins, I either really like their songs or I don't. I like this one, maybe not as much as some of the songs I put on the last CD I made Snake, but it's pretty solid. The one thing I'll say is that they rarely make two songs that sound alike. I also like that they are willing to be a little silly in their music. Too many bands take themselves too seriously. 

The Roots – Lovely, Love My Family

The Roots have a fresh, clean sound and it's pretty evident here. Not an overly complex song, but catchy with a heart-warming message. Good enough for me. 

Black Stone Cherry – Reverend Wrinkle, Things My Father Said

I love the name Reverend Wrinkle. I wished I would have thought of it. Think it could be turned into an interesting little story. Maybe someday I'll get to it. Song is solid. The sound is heavier than other selections in this group. "Things My Father Said," is a classic song with a straight-foward formula that has worked a thousand times. If you like rock music, then you'll probably like that one. 

Metric – Gimmie Sympathy

It is unintentional that it worked out this way, but the last song left to talk about might be emerging as my favorite from this collection I can't pinpoint why – maybes its the question of who'd I'd rather be "The Beatles or The Rolling Stones." It's a good question. I don't know, it's one of those songs that move by so quickly that you want to hit the repeat button after its done because you feel like it went by too fast.  

Red's Kip Winger Review - Part 4

Cornelius – Count Five or Six

I won't say this is my favorite song on the albums. There is some funky music in the background, but you definitely have to want to listen for it because the repetition in the counting does start to get it a little old by halfway through. That's sort of the risk of making a track like this. It can turn some listeners off with the repetition causing them to miss the rest. 

Scars on Broadway – 3005; Universe

On the other side of coin, 3005 provides a hook and groove that's make it hard not to sing with. Universe is similar, but it does have a little bit of a System of a Down sound to it. Overall, I like both these tunes. 

David Bowie – Life on Mars?; Kooks

There are points of Life on Mars where I have no idea what the hell he is talking about. That being said, it's hard not to like the song. It's out there, but the tune and his voice keep it interesting and fun. Kooks is a fine song, not as strong overall as Life on Mars, but it is silly little song that is uplifting. It sort starts that theme on the second CD of this collection. 

The Rolling Stones – Sister Morphine; Shine a Light

It's always cool to hear album cuts from the Stones. While the Beatles sometimes would get silly with some of their album songs, the Stones would embrace their blues and soul side. You hear that in Sister Morphine. The one thing I'll say about this tune, is that I do wish at times for less Jagger. The instrumentation is better than him here. Shine a Light is a bit peppier, and has that sound of redemption which is the theme of the second CD. Perfect way to end it. 

Deer Tick - Easy 

I almost skipped over this because we had mentioned it earlier. I like this song, and I know that I have a few more Deer Tick tunes on my Spotify list. They seem like a rock band that understands what it does well and makes sure that they don't stray to far from that formula. There's nothing wrong with that. Too many bands lose their sound by trying to become more commercial and/or more experimental. Hopefully. this group allow fans to come to them and their sound. 

Red's Review of Kip Winger: Part 3

Greenskeepers - Lotion

So it wasn't until I looked this song up on YouTube that I realized that this song was inspired by Silence of the Lambs. The chorus are a seen from the movie. I hadn't seen the movie in so long that I never made that connection. There is that serial killer type feel to the song. Before coming to this realization, I couldn't really figure out exactly what the hell was going with the tune. I think it'll find its way into my rotation more often. 

Kelly Clarkson - Don't Let Me Stop You; Cry

There's nothing really anything wrong or repulsive about "Don't Let Me Stop You," but I also don't find anything spectacular about it. I do like it more than "Cry" because it has more pep. Both songs have that breakup song feel to them that sort of I get tired of with female artists. I suppose male artists have the same amount of breakup songs, but I just notice them with females. Unless it's "You Oughta Know," I just usually don't stay real interested. 

The Raconteurs – You Don't Understand Me; Hold up

I think this is the second collection that Snake has provided with the Raconteurs on it. In fact, he may have burned a whole CD of them at some point. I love the piano in "You Don't Understand Me." That song is another one that reminds of some other band or song that I can't quite place who. Great guitar to start "Hold Up." It's a completely different sound from the first selection. This is quick paced and hard hitting. I like both these songs, and don't think I can say that I like one more than another. I think it would just depend on my mood at certain time.

Wolfmother - Caroline; In The Castle

"Caroline" is an old-fashioned rock ballad that would have thrived in the 80s hair band days. Since I have a soft spot in my heart for that sound, this caught my ear right away. Love it.  "In the Castle" is closer to a classic jam hard rock song and even has that medieval, fantasy story backdrop that harkens back to bands like Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden, and Jethro Tull. You can hear a little bit of all of them here.

Ace Frehley - Ozone

If this is indicative of Frehley's talent than he should probably have had more control over Kiss. You can hear the regular Kiss formula of song writing in there, but there seems to be a little more edge, a little more substance than some of the outlandish stuff Kiss would throw out there sometimes.  

Red's Kip Winger Review: Part 2

The Answer - Evil Man

There's something about the chorus of this song that reminds of some other song, but I can never put my finger on what that other song is. Maybe it's because this sort of feels like a late 70s early 80s hard rock song. I'd have to say that lyrics of this song would had fit well with the theme to my first CD Project. This is just a good old rock song.

Carrie Underwood - Songs Like This; Undo It

It's quite the narrative paring putting "Songs Like This" right after "Evil Man." Sort of a point-counterpoint argument. Both these songs are fine. I probably would never have actively went out to get them, but they'd be ones that I'd tap my foot to when they came on the radio. The repetitive "Uh-Uh-Uh," is one of those things that get in the head in an annoying way. 

The Dead Weather - New Pony; No Hassle Night

It wouldn't be a Snake produced CD without a Jack White appearance in some shape or form. "New Pony" is an interesting take on a Bob Dylan song. The evolution from the original to the cover is cool. I've grown to really like band's doing cover songs. Really good artists can take an old song and make it something new. The Dead Weather did that by adding an edge and funk to the track. For some reason "No Hassle Night" got lost on these CDs for me. I don't know if it just got buried around other tracks or what, but it either didn't stand out, or my mind happened to be occupied when it came on. I guess, "New Pony" just was more distinctive and memorable. 

The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs - Dull Life, Soft Shock

It's funny, I am using YouTube to play songs as I write about them since our CD drive is broken, and one of the related suggestions is Joan Jett. Her name was running through my head as I listened to the Yeah, Yeahs, Yeahs. There's that raw, angry female voice theme akin to some of Jett's tunes. "Dull Life" leads the listener through quite a journey, changing tempos, sounds, instruments throughout. "We see the nightmare of the lives..." Is a great lyric. "Soft Shock" has that little 80s sound to it. It's solid, but I think I like "Dull Life" better as an example of what the band is capable of. 

Them Crooked Vultures - Scumbag Blues; New Fang

"Scumbag Blues"  has the best opening of any songs on this CD. It grabs by the throat right away. It reminds me of Cream with the strong guitar and high, soft voice.  Can't help but like this one. "New Fang" opens with drums before hitting the guitar. It's sort of a faster driving song.  It's a good contrast to the first offering, showing that they'll skin the cat more than one way. Good music entrenched in rock and blues roots. 

Red's Kip Winger Review: Part 1

Note: I am going to break this down by band. It looks like that’s how we’ve done this in the past, and it will probably keep from there being too much repetition. I am just going down the list in order starting with first CD and then grabbing the other songs from each artist in that order.


Tubronegro – Do You Dig Destruction

The only offering from this group in the collection, there’s not much else that needs to be said other than this is a straight forward hard rock anthem with all the motifs of wild, violent fun. It’s kicks off the album well, and it never disappoints when one needs a good pick-me-up song to supply some energy. I believe this band made it into the 1,001 albums list at some point, if my memory serves right.

My Chemical Romance – Teenagers; Cancer

I can’t decide if My Chemical Romance is a great band with a catalog of great songs, or if they are just a good band with a couple great songs. I’ve sort gone both ways with the songs I’ve heard from these. These two in particular show a nice range. Teenagers is rock with a strong riff and a catchy hook. Cancer with the melodic piano and whiny voice is tender with that threat of a sharp edge. I like both tunes. Part of me wants to say this band is Green Day a generation later. Not sure though.

The Zutons – It’s the Little Things We Do; You’ve Got a Friend in Me

The Zutons are smooth. I love the lead singer’s voice. It has a rawness that doesn’t sound forced. It’s the Little Things We Do is a toe-tapper, and I can certainly relate to the lyrics (unfortunately). You’ve Got a Friend… has the nice mixture of male and female voice, and builds nicely into middle with a groovy guitar solo.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience – Day Tripper

Obviously, I know the Beatles version of this song. I believe I talked about this one earlier. There’s no reason to dislike this one, and it makes you wonder if he had live longer if Hendrix would have done covers of other songs. I think that would have been a very strong avenue for him. Sort of the guitar version of what Johnny Cash did late in his career.

Lady Gaga – Monster; Speechless

I just noticed that I only put Speechless on my MP3 player for some reason. I don’t recall having any reason for that. I do like the hook a bit more in Speechless than Monster. I suppose this shows how much of a music rock I live under, but I am not sure I had ever heard a Gaga song before this. I suppose I had and didn’t realize it. I always wonder when an artist dresses up and creates a whole persona if they are covering for a lack of actual talent. I don’t think that’s the case with Gaga, but I don’t know if she does all of her own writing. It’ll be interesting if she ever abandons some of the extra stuff if her overall output and success is the same.

Spirit in the Night: Second installment

Note: Here's the next couple sections of this tale. I got bogged down a while there and wasn't going through this as quickly as I originally hoped. As Snake knows now, I ended up putting song on CDs I made him. I have a thought with what I want to do with collection where I turned each song into a long form story like this. That will be time consuming, but I'll post things as I do. My thought is to have all stories be from Lincoln. Maybe we'll even meet some nice folks. :) This particular story has a ways to go before it's finished. Hopefully it holds attention. 

KILLER JOE

Sometime after Billy had been put away, Joe lost his nerve. Joe chewed on a toothpick thinking about this while listening to Billy wretch in the ditch. The man had no stomach for cars. Billy could kill a man – likely was planning to kill the fag at the gas station – but put him in a car for an hour and his face turned green like a sissy at the sight of blood.

Joe couldn’t kill no one. Not even a nigger, if he was being honest with himself. Maybe when he was younger, he could have stabbed a darkie, but probably not. His nerve had always been more talk than action.

When Billy left, the quiet life had suited Joe just fine. He liked working a steady job. He liked going out with Davy and G-Man at night. He even liked the cold, shithole shack that he and G-Man shared. Getting real wild just wasn’t in him anymore. Now, that ain’t saying that his mouth still didn’t get him in a brawl or two, but hell, G-Man scared most guys in Lincoln away. Joe knew G-Man was all right as long as you kept an eye on the matches. Joe learned that pretty quick when the two started to live together about nine months earlier. The big man had started a fire in his own room, setting his mattress ablaze. If Joe hadn’t come home to douse the flames with a fire extinguisher, the whole damn shack would have went up.

Since then, Joe doled out matches and liters sparingly, and he made sure that G-Man got to set big fires every now and then in the woods away from the shack. That usually suited the big man enough. All the same, the last year in Lincoln had been good. Joe wanted it to stay that way. He and G-Man were putting money away to fix up the homestead a bit, maybe even get a dog or two. G-Man loved a good dog. Things were good.

The puking in the ditch turned to spitting. A clear dark sky with just a hint of purple at the edges set the scene around the car, and Joe considered firing up the engine and leaving Billy behind.

“Coward,” Joe snickered. “I ain’t no coward.”

The car door opened and Billy dropped into the seat.  Billy’s dark bangs littered his forehead, covering his eyes. His purple lips that covered two rows of perfect teeth save one gap from a tooth the queer had knocked out the night Billy got sent away were pursed tight shut. Joe wondered how a man with such boyish looks fared in the pokey for a year. He didn’t think he should ask.

“Are you ready?” Joe asked instead. Billy’s eyes were closed, contemplating the question like it was the big teaser on one of those quiz shows on the tube.

“Just sit here a minute.”

Joe turned his attention to the dark, barren fields surrounding the car. The emptiness made him sad. The reap was over this fall, meaning the next few months would be lean for G-Man and him till planting came around. Sometimes they could get jobs hauling feed for farmers, but really only Joe could do that. G-Man didn’t have a license. The big man could drive, but no farmer would take the insurance risk.

Plus, Billy was going to be around now. He’d never kept a job in his life, so that was likely another mouth that Joe would have to find a way to feed, and he didn’t think he was up for the ways Billy came upon money. Those ways usually ended with trouble, sometimes a lot of trouble.

“I can see the hamster wheel turning, Joey boy,” Billy was smiling, the gap at the bottom clear. The worst of his carsickness was past.

“Just thinking about money, Billy.”

“Money?”

“Yeah, me and G-Man have some put away, and…”

“And your worrying that Ole Wild Billy is going to use it up?”

“No, it ain’t that.”

“It ain’t.”

“Well, we could probably get you in some place this spring.”

“Place?”

“A farm, Billy. G-Man and me do farm work for our dough.”

“Hmmph.” Billy lit a cigarette. “Work.”

“A little work ain’t so bad. Do you have a better plan?”

“A plan? Oh yeah, I got a plan. Why don’t you forget about money, and let me worry about planning things. Now, get this bitch going, I got business in Lincoln.”

Joe slipped the gear and turned on the headlamps. I was afraid you got a plan. He pushed down on the accelerator hard, splaying out gravel behind them.

CRAZY JANEY

The fluorescent lights hummed and glowed yellow above Aisle 4 in Oly’s Station. The old man behind the counter had a radio playing the broadcast of Lincoln’s varsity football game. The announcers were loud and overreacted to everything, but all that Janey heard was the hum of the light and the way it bore into her thoughts. In front of her three boxes caught her attention. One was white. One blue. One pink. One guaranteed an answer in 10 minutes, the next 15, the last didn’t give a time, but promised never to fail. The only real difference was the price.

“What ya see, baby!” Davy called from the freezers in the back of the store. “Better grab two big bags of those corn chips for G-Man. That guy loves those.”

“I know, you’ve told me three times already,” Janey yelled back. She put her hand to her belly knowing that wouldn’t tell her anything. Gods, if only it would. The old man behind the desk was staring at her, and she was sure that he shook his head at her. She stuck out her tongue in response. The man’s eyes went wide and looked away.

The freezer doors opened in the back and bottles rattled as Davy made his selections. Janey shifted her attention to the opposite side of aisle and the row of brightly colored chips. She grabbed a few without looking as Davy entered from the other end. He had one case of beer under his armpit and one in each hand.

“Babe?”

“What?”

“The corn chips?”

“Jesus.” Janey looked around, and found the corn chips pulled them off the shelf, holding two of them up for Davy to verify her selection. He put that dumb grin on his face that she loved at first but now hated. He had thinning blonde hair and a flat face. He was no prize, but he had a nice face. Not like her daddy. Her daddy’s face had always scowled, even on those late nights after a good day at the track when the lights were out and the apartment quiet. Janey shuddered.

“Hey, you got enough hands to grab a couple bottles back there? I can’t handle anymore.”

“How you paying for all this?”

“Pay day, babe! Plus, I save more since you don’t let me go out so much anymore!” He kissed her on the cheek on his way to the counter. She walked around to the next aisle, picked up a bottle of whisky, vodka and scotch. She hadn’t drank enough to know much about it, so she just grabbed the cheapest.  At the counter, the man eyed her as she dropped the chips and alcohol on the counter.

“She’s not old enough for some of this.” The man said as he put the bottles into brown bags.

“She’s ain’t buyin,” Davy shot the man a wink. “I won’t let my girl have none. I promise.” Davy winked again.

“Christ.” Jany picked up the chips and bags of booze, as Davy dropped a wad of bills on the counter. She was already in the car by the time Davy was fumbling with the front door. He put the beer in the trunk before sitting down in the passenger’s seat.

“I can’t walk by that last rack without getting the chills,” Davy said as she turned the engine.

“Not this again.”

“I was sitting right here in Joe’s car. I could see it all. It was like a slow motion movie,” he went on as she started to back away. He reached to floor and picked up the bottle of scotch, untwisting the top. “Billy pulled that boy right over the counter, and then boom, the boy hits him in the chin with that bat. Billy goes sprawling backward, knocking over that rack right there. Twinkees and snack cakes went flying everywhere.”

“I’ve heard this all before,” Janey said. Davy took a long swallow from the bottle and then held it toward her. Janey frown as she pulled out onto the interstate.

“I know you have, but it was really something. Here, have a drink of this. It’ll relax you a bit.”

“So tell me the best part,” Janey said.

“What do mean?”

“Come on, you being my knight in shinin’ armor and all. Spill it.”

“You ain’t gotta be like that.”

“What’d you do when you heard the sirens and realized that poor boy had pushed the alarm. Hunh? What you’d do then?”

“I wasn’t about to go away like Billy. Is that what you want?”

“Hey, if you’re going to tell the story, be sure to add that you got out of that car and ran like a school girl from the boogeyman. What a stud I have.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with running when things go south.”

“Yeah,” she snatched the bottle from him. She pulled a long gulp from it before handing it back. Her hand went to her stomach as the scotch burned her throat and kept going all the way down. She brushed a tear away from her left eye, mad that she broke her mascara rule. “Just don’t go making a habit of it.”