Oath of Hypocrisy

Nicole Jackson, thirty year dedicated employee of Motion Packing, had her employment status changed from full to part time employee due to the American economic failures in the last days of the George W. Bush administration. With her reduced hours and pay came a loss of medical benefits as well. Additional part time employment was sought and accepted by Ms. Jackson to subsidize her income during the trying times of $4.00- $5.00 gas prices. Three months earlier, the war in Iraq claimed her eldest nephew whom she loved like a son. Never having children of her own, grief struck her especially hard. Strong, full of faith and diligent she remained in the face of adversity. Her part time employment as a waitress exposed her to bacteria, viruses and illness causing germs from the restaurant’s patrons during cold and flu season. Nicole fell ill. Her illness got worse. Medical attention was needed after eight days of steadily declining health. Adequate treatment was not provided, no health care. An upper respiratory infection developed into pneumonia and was treated tardily with a prescription for antibiotics; no x-rays or blood work was taken. Ms. Jackson, sent home to heal herself, was assisted by members of her home church to no avail. Hospitalized five days later after another turn for the worse, Nicole Jackson fought to live. Medicare was applied for on her behalf. Just a matter of time before the government would approve her coverage. Now more in depth medical treatment and even surgery was needed, time was of the essence. Doctors refused to provide the necessary medical treatment without first securing payment for their services. In the day and age of HMOs and restriction laden medical plans, the doctors were well within their rights to deny Nicole the life saving treatments she so desperately needed. She was sent home again and the church prayed. They prayed that the Lord’s will be done. She was comforted by members of her congregation and peace was given in the form of the Lord’s love and the knowledge that she would soon be with him. Nicole Jackson went home to meet her Lord and Savior hours later. A letter was received at her residence three days after her return to her father’s side, her Medicare had been approved.

A code of ethical conduct is no longer upheld or valued by the American healthcare system, only the all mighty dollar. New physicians commonly take an oath to determine their intentions and moral conduct during their service as a practicing medical professional. The Hippocratic Oath is now just a hollow statement of formality that young doctors make in order to start raking in the doe. It should now be called the “Oath of Hypocrisy” because it seems that the new millennium physician is nothing more than a hypocrite when he or she professes his or her desire to practice medicine as a way of serving mankind. They practice medicine to make money! I know this because to them, if treating a patient don’t make them dollars, then trying to save a life don’t make much sense.
Oath of
Hypocrisy

 

Justly Jilted Justin

Dangerously ambitious was young Justin Johnson, ex-military and quite the yes man. Others allowed their ambitions to fuel their desire to chase dreams. Justin’s caused him to commit unscrupulous acts, constantly conducting himself in a dishonorable manner in the workplace. Always the accuser, consummate informer on co-workers’ professional as well as personal lives. He masked his betrayals as attempts at trying to do what was best for the company; a brown nosers brown noser. When given an opportunity to lead, Justin was never an advocate for his subordinates. Conversations would be had between he and his employees and their confidence would be gained. Once inside the private offices of upper management, Justin would “switch horses in the middle of the stream”, leaving his employee in a vulnerable position receiving all the wrath of the big bosses. Accountability, taking ownership or responsibility for his own actions and decisions were not attributes of Justin’s. Everything rolled down hill; he was always sure to dodge it and let it fall on the heads of those beneath him. To great lengths he would go to obtain information to pass on; expert was Justin at venting to a trustworthy individual enticing them to do the same. After they confided in him he would go directly to the person in management that they were speaking of and divulge all. Justin told of inner office romances and alleged employee drug and alcohol abuse. In actuality he dated low level female employees in the company and had been admitted to drug and alcohol rehabilitation centers twice in his young life. Fraternizing and drug abuse weren’t the only skeletons in Justin’s closet. Many employees under his command possessed medications for the pain they suffered from due to various chronic illnesses, injuries, surgeries or medical procedures. Medications came up missing and blame was cast all around the office place. Justin did his normal finger pointing and planting of suspects in the minds of his superiors. Slowly but surely all of young Justin’s unethical activities started to come to light. He was hated in the workplace for all of his random cowardly acts done to the innocent and trusting. Everyone shared information on his activities, dates, use, abuse and past. Untouchable he felt himself to be. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Soon Justin Johnson found himself sitting before the same people he tried desperately to impress with devious conniving, trying to explain his own corrupt conduct. Justly jilted Justin was. Justin’ s cruel crafty communication had claimed yet another job but this time he was left contrite because the job it claimed was his. How could they just fire him like that? They handed him a box that once held copier paper, stuffed full of his possessions and had security escort him out of the building.

Justly Jilted Justin

 

Blow Bubbles

“Hey honey”
“Yea baby”
“What do you want to do today?”
“I don’t know; what do you want to do?”
“Lets’ blow bubbles!”
“Blow bubbles?”
“Yes blow bubbles.”
“We are two grown adults; the kids are out of town, and you want to blow bubbles?”
“Yes, let’s blow bubbles.”
“Blow bubbles, I don’t know baby.”
“I’ll make lemonade, fresh squeezed.”
“You know I love your lemonade honey.”
“Well then let’s blow bubbles!”
“What does lemonade have to do with bubbles?”
“They go together. Just like peanut butter and jelly.”
“Bubbles and lemonade, just like peanut butter and jelly? I got it.”
“Yup, they go together, now let’s go blow bubbles.”
“Baby what is with you and this whole bubble thing? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am serious, I want to blow bubbles.”
“Sweetheart, you know that I would never want to deprive you of something that brought you joy but, bubbles?”
“Yes bubbles!”
“Bubbles.”
“Look baby we can sit on the front porch swing rocking back and forth, sipping on our lemonade, blowing beautiful bubbles out into the bright Pine Hills afternoon.”
“How poetic, bubbles in the Pine Hills afternoon.”
“Why thank you.”
“Oh, you are quite welcome.”
“So, you ready to blow bubbles now?”
“They can get kinda messy. They drip everywhere, sliding from the bubble wand down onto your palm, then your wrist and into your sleeve. I could never blow bubbles without making a mess as a kid.”
“Well like you said, we’re two adults now. I am sure that you can blow bubbles without making a big mess.”
“I don’t know.”
“We can go upstairs, put on a pair of old jeans, white tee shirts and white tennis shoes. We will dress identically and then sit on the swing and blow bubbles. If we make a mess we will just have to get out of those messy clothes.”
“Let’s skip the bubbles and just get out of our clothes now.”
“No mister! There is no need to take off clothes until we blow bubbles; and don’t try to be slick and spill them everywhere just so you can take your clothes off. If you do you may be taking off your clothes by yourself.”
“No need to pass threats now; alright, I’ll blow bubbles! Take my hand my lady as I whisk you upstairs to change into your bubble blowing attire. Then we will come down and make lemonade together; the forecast is calling for light showers this afternoon. You know I love the rain”
“You know that I love you, sir.”
“Come now I’ll carry you up the stairs to your bubble dressing room.”
“Oh you’re so strong sir, please be gentle.”
“I could never harm such a delicate flower such as yourself; I will most definitely be moderate and tender in handling your dainty frame.”

Clothes were changed, lemonade was made, swinging was enjoyed, bubbles were blown, clothes were taken off and passionate love was made by the married couple of twenty-two years. Enjoy life, love well, Blow Bubbles!

Blow bubbles

Rainbow Politics

Tim, Patrick, Robert and Kyle were childhood friends in an affluent neighborhood born in well to do families with political ties. The four friends did as they were told. School, athletics, social events, clubs and up holding the family name were made priorities. Married, college graduates and fathers the four became. Tim, Patrick, Robert and Kyle were viewed as successful to all especially their families. Prestigious and privileged were their lives. Politics was pursued by the four men entering their late twenties and they were supported strongly by their southern Republican conservative constituency. Their family names served them well as none of them ever suffered a loss in an election on their rise in the political arena. The men were right wingers and supported big business, helping to increase the divide between rich and poor in their communities. Country clubs, servants and old southern living was the lifestyle they were raised on and perpetuated to their personal populous. Their concern and function in politics was only to preserve the way of life for them and those of their kind, the southern Caucasian wealthy. Southern Baptist Luke warm Christians, they held love in their hearts for only those like them. Devout Christians the elders of their families proclaimed to be but they wouldn’t allow a man of color into their home to do anything more than serve them. They were not viewed as equal. Tim, Patrick, Robert and Kyle were part of a secret society and often made their way from their small town in Arkansas to Orlando Florida for clandestine meetings. Covert conversations and undisclosed information and activity occurred unknown even to their families and especially their constituents. The four men traveled together quarterly to the southern city to conduct furtive surreptitious seminars at their favorite resort. Curious but unfazed their wives remained over the years; they weren’t terribly concerned as long as they were provided for and their social status was up held. Appearances were important. Now in their mid forties holding seats in the senate and congress, governor and lieutenant governor the men continued to promote their views and champion their people. The four were now more visible and becoming enemies of liberals, minorities, women’s rights groups and gays everywhere because of their politics and boarder line offensive statements through the years. Their private resort where they held their “meetings” was actually the largest resort in the world. The largest gay resort! The Parliament House. They were recognized on television by a young man they had group sex with twelve years earlier who passed the information on to his activist boyfriend. A plan was made to photograph the men on their next dive into debauchery. Many photos were taken of the men partying, having cocktails with young hustlers and having sex with the other guest at the resort.

“Those hypocritical queens! I could tell by the way he switched his little ass on stage that he was family. I can’t wait to get these photos to the papers.”

Chance Coward squealed from behind the camera lens as he snapped compromising photos of the four politicians. Unfortunately none of the four men could face up to the shame they caused their families or themselves so they each took their own lives within days of the breaking news. A poisonous punch was made and consumed by all four one windy Wednesday afternoon. Hypocritical insincerity can sometimes kill.

Rainbow Politics

 

Abhorring Aaron’s Ability

“I hate her; she gets on my damned nerves.”
“Who you talkin’ ‘bout Carol?”
“My little sister Erin, she always gets her way.”

The two girls sat down on a mat in the corner of the gymnasium as Carol continued to gripe about her talented younger sister.

“My mom and dad are going to buy their little princess a car and she’s only fifteen. Just because she sings those corny songs don’t mean they have to give her everything. I didn’t get a car until I turned sixteen and it wasn’t a new one. My father just gave me his old BMW. They can’t make it to our volleyball game tonight because Aa-rr-oon has a show. They always go to all of her damned shows. Aaron, I don’t know why she spells her name like a boy. It’s Erin, E-R-I-N; she thinks she’s so cool.”

Jill struggled to understand why her friend hated having a famous little sister so much.

“It must be cool sometimes to have a famous little sister though?”
“Well if you like her so much you can have her!”

Carol snapped at her teammate for her lack of moral support then continued on her rant.

“Every since she was a baby they’ve been dragging me to contests, photo shoots and shows. Her agent, managers, lawyers, accountants and publicist call all times of the day and night. My parents never took that much interest in anything I ever did in my whole life. They were always too concerned about their golden child. They were even out of town with her on my birthday two years in a row. Sure they threw me big parties when they got back but it was still after my birthday. She even got a bigger bedroom than me when we moved into the new…”

Carol’s complaining was suddenly interrupted by a teammate and fan of her younger sister.

“Hey Carol, I didn’t know that Aaron Alise was your little sister. Do you think you could get me an autographed picture?”

Carol, extremely irritated by the interruption, replied to Janice in a sharp harsh manner.

“My sister’s last name is Novak just like mine and I don’t handle her groupies, you might want to see her publicist for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me I was having a private conversation.”

Carol turned her back on Janice as she stood astonished by her rudeness. Carol turned again to see the stunned girl still standing there and then waved her hands in the direction of Janice as if to tell her to shoo. She then turned back to Jill again and continued bellyaching.

“Can you believe that girl Jill? I get so tired of that. People think that we are all here just to serve Erin. My parents may be but I’m not!”

Jill sighed at Carol’s negative comments and Carol, ever confrontational, quickly picked it up.

“What do you know Jill?! You’re probably just another one of those mindless drowns that walks around following the heard. You probably like Erin’s crap too, figures. You seem the small minded type.”

Jill had run out of patience. Being a kind Christian girl, she volunteered when the head coach of the volleyball team asked if one of the players would take the time to reach out to the team’s malcontent. Carol isolated herself from the rest of the girls and rarely got the opportunity to play because of her lack of enthusiasm. Jill took a deep breath to calm her self before making a frank and insightful assessment of her teammate’s problem.

“You know Carol, most people would be proud to have a little sister who is so talented but not you. You’re too busy being jealous of her to be happy for her. You envy her so much that you dislike anyone who likes her. If you were more positive and tried harder at what you do, you might be happier. You push people away with your negativity; you might want to try to change that. I’ll pray for you.”

With that being said, Jill got up from the mat and joined her teammates warming up before their game. Carol sat and sulked as she allowed Jill’s words to sink into her thick skull. She slowly rose from her place on the mat. Put a nervous smile on her face and joined her teammates in warming up. Her teammates’ faces showed welcoming smiles and Jill walked over and patted her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Welcome back to the team Carol.”

Jill handed Carol the volleyball. Carol smiled an appreciative smile then sent the volleyball sailing over the net.

Abhorring Aaron’s Ability

Peter, Pat and Paul

This is the story of Peter, Pat and Paul; three brothers, one short, one medium one tall. They all got a real rise from committing crimes, eventually causing their fall. Poor planning led to asinine adventures; now they’re incarcerated one and all. Pitiful pondering, self produced powerlessness and pure peril, plague the three, spring to fall. This is a tale lacking logic, loose lunacy and large laughter for all. In the youth we must encourage and educate to evoke excellence in their events and call. Let this be the last of the sorrowfully sad stories of shameless sullied siblings taking short cuts to glory only to stall. People I present to you the prose of Peter, Pat and Paul.

“Yo Pete, you call Tommy yet!”
“Yea Paul, I called him.”
“What’d he say?”
“He didn’t answer!”
“Shit!”

Paul paced his brother’s bedroom floor scratching his arm.

“You’re gonna scratch blood out of your arm dumb ass.”
“Shut up Pete, where’s Pat at?”

Pete stood up and looked up into his younger brother’s eyes.

“You better watch your tone with me boy, I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

Paul turned his back on his brother and walked over to the window. He mumbled “fuck you” as he gazed out still scratching. Just then their middle brother Pat opened the bedroom door with a smile on his face. Paul quickly turned around and questioned his brother.

“Did you score?”
“Calm down dude and stop talking so loud. Yea I scored.”

Then older shorter brother Pete chimed in.

“Good, please give this kid a bump before he loses his damn mind.”

Pat smiled then handed the small bag of white powder to his lanky younger brother. Paul wasted no time in diving in. Pete laughed at the severity of his brother’s addiction.

“Take it easy man, it ain’t goin’ no where.”

Paul sat back on the bed then passed the bag back to Pat. His eyes were now glassy and his body relaxed; Paul let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t gotten high since early in the morning and it was killing him. Pat passed the bag to Pete and then asked the time. Pete responded.

“It’s 2:30pm and I’ve got everything we need. Ya’ll still ready?”

His two younger brothers responded affirmatively in unison. Then Paul sat up as the initial wave of his high became less intense.

“Hey, how much money we got left?”

Pete reached into his top draw and pulled out several small bills.

“It looks like we got about thirty-seven dollars. We need more money, this shit we got ain’t gonna last long.”

Then Pat spoke up interrupting his brothers.

“Hey when we make this score I wanna get some “H” too. I been hurtin’.”

Pete sucked his teeth and then walked over to Pat looking up into his young tired face.

“I told you to stop fuckin’ with that nigger Luscious and those junkies. It’s alright to do smack every now and then but you can’t be doing that shit everyday. It’ll fuck you up.”

A nasty scowl covered Pat’s face.

“Fuck you dude, I do whatever the fuck I want to and if I help to get the money, I’ll spend it however the fuck I want to.”

Pat then snatched the bag from Paul as he handed it to him. Paul responded to his brother’s anger.

“Don’t take it out on me man. Shit, I don’t give a fuck what you do.”

Pete started back in on his younger brother.

“Well you go ahead and be an asshole Pat. I was just tryin’ ta tell you somethin’ for you own damned good.”

Pat inhaled the light dust and then responded.

“Well thanks big brother, but I think I can’t take care of myself.”
“Fine be stupid, I’m done with it. Paul, you got some smokes?”

Paul stood and dug a hard pack of Marlboros out the right front pocket of his Wranglers. He took one and then tossed the pack to his brother. They both lit up and inhaled deeply. Pat sat in the corner wishing he had his narcotic of choice; he took another bump to ease his cravings, it didn’t work. The three brothers then huddled up to discuss the criminal plan they were to put into motion in less than two hours. After finishing their drugs and a whole pack of cigarettes the boys were off to commit a crime that would support their habits for quite a while. This was far from the criminal mischief that they were normally involved with. This would be a fateful day in the lives of the three brothers; a lot would change for them and then some things wouldn’t change at all.

Peter, Pat and Paul piled into Pete’s ’78 Cordoba and rode towards down town. Pete let his brother Paul out on the corner of Pine and Orange and then sped up the block and parked.

“Paul, get behind the wheel and watch for me to come out. Keep the car running and listen out for Paul’s whistle if the cops come. You got it?”

Pat answered with an irritated look on his face.

“Yea dude I got it, just hurry up.”

Pete got out of the car and walked briskly into the bank. Unfortunately Paul was positioned too far away for his brother to hear his whistle if the police did arrive on the scene. Once inside the bank Pete walked over to a podium and wrote his demands on the back of a deposit slip. The slip read… “Thiz iz a stick up!!! Give monie.” Pete’s lack of education was evident in his writing. He never finished the sixth grade and had never so much as written an essay. He became jittery and paranoid as he stood in line awaiting the opportunity to speak to the teller. His paranoia was a byproduct of his drug abuse. He suddenly started to believe that the people in line behind him may have seen the message written on his deposit slip. Pete bolted from the line and out of the bank. Looking disoriented, he hurried across the street to the Wells Fargo with the note in hand.

“What the hell is he doing?”

Pat thought to himself as he watched his brother walk into the Wells Fargo. When Pete finally reached the teller window he presented the slip to the bank teller. The lady looked down at his note and let out a slight chuckle at the Pete’s poor grammar and handwriting. She then responded quickly to the aspiring bank robber.

“Sir, I am terribly sorry but we can’t accept this deposit slip, you’ll need to take it across the street to the Bank of America. Is there anything else that I can’t help you with?”

She asked Pete as she handed him back the slip. Pete looked dumbfounded as he took the note back and turned to walk back across the street to the Bank of America.

“What the hell is he doing?”

Pat again said to himself as he watched his inept older brother walking into the first bank once again. The crafty bank teller called the police and they were already in route before Pete reached the front of the bank line in the Bank of America Branch. As police cars barreled around the corner Paul began to whistle. He whistled and whistled but Pat hadn’t heard a note of it. After realizing that his brother couldn’t hear him, Paul turned and ran down the block in the direction of his neighborhood. Pat looked into his rearview mirror to see the police racing up the street towards him and his younger brother running in the opposite direction. Pat laid low in the in the driver’s seat and killed the engine as police converged on the scene. As they entered the bank, he quickly cranked up the car and crept down the street. He looked to his left into the bank to see his older brother’s short stocky frame being tackled to the ground and cuffs being placed on his wrists. Pat turned the corner and drove down two blocks to spot Paul running at top speed. He pulled up next to him.

“Get in asshole!”

Paul jumped into the front passenger seat and quickly asked of his brother’s fate, only to learn that he had been captured by the authorities.

“Damn due, what the fuck are we going to do?”

Paul asked of his big brother. Pat responded simply.

“I don’t know what you’re gonna do but I’m going to take twenty of these thirty-seven dollars in Pete’s wallet and but myself a balloon.”
“Is that all you can think about right now is getting high? Our brother just got arrested.”

Pat cut his eye at his brother and then answered sharply.

“No matter if I get high or not, Pete is still going to be locked up so I’m gonna go get me a fix. You got a problem with that?!”

Pat‘s eyes now held a sick look of excitement at the thought of getting his drug combined with hatred for anyone who tried to keep him from it. Paul sat quiet as Pat sped to his pusher’s house to get his fix.

Later that evening Mr. and Mrs. Romano received a call from their incarcerated son and immediately called a family meeting. Pete didn’t tell of his brothers’ involvement in the crime he’d committed. Pat and Paul pretended to be shocked at the news and genuinely concerned for their beloved brother’s well being. Father demanded that sons become employed and they readily agreed. Later the boys discussed where they would apply while consuming the last of their drugs.

“Paul, I’m gonna go down and fill out an application at the Quick Mart.”
“Oh yea, I’m gonna talk to old man Fulton to see if he’ll give me a job at his body shop.”

Pat plopped down in the chair at the desk across from his brother’s bed with a sly grin covering his face.

“I’m gonna case the joint while I’m filling out the application.”

Young Paul began to smile at his brother’s devious intentions.

“You gonna try and rob the Quick Mart?”
“I ain’t gonna try and rob shit! I gonna rob the Quick Mart!”

The brothers broke out in laughter.

“You know what Pat, I’ll do you one better. I’m gonna rob Mc Getty’s after I talk to old man Fulton.”

The boys laughed harder.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about little Pauly. We’ll both go at seven and meet back here.”

The next day the two brothers met in the garage of their parent’s home after their interviews; unknown to Mother and Father Romano were their sons’ unlawful plans. Pat’s interview with the convenience store manager went well and he was told to expect a call back for a second interview. While in the store Pat checked for security cameras and routes of escape. Paul inquired and was turned down for employment by Mr. Fulton. Paul wasn’t terribly concerned because he had plans of making a big score later that night. The boys parted ways after brief conversation armed with 38 specials left to them by their uncles. The uncles who proclaimed to be Mafia gangsters had influenced the boys into lives of crime through their fictional exploits. The two men were currently imprisoned in upstate New York. In actuality they were just petty criminals who spent their days committing petty crimes with low level gangsters. The “made man” they proclaimed themselves to be couldn’t be further from the truth. In their nephews’ young unsophisticated minds their stories rang true. The boys entered each establishment three minutes apart. They used the same approach and method of convincing the cashier to surrender all currency, sticking the barrel of the gun in the face of their robbery victim. Minutes later they met back up at their parents’ loving home feeling triumphant and victorious. Pat and Paul boasted to one another about the night’s exploits.

“Paul, when I put the pistol in that old bitch’s face, she almost shit a brick. She was like please, please don’t hurt me; here, here take the money. When I was leaving I could hear her praying out loud to Jesus, dumb old bitch.”

The boys doubled over with laughter as Paul started in about his successful stick up.

“You know that old fag David?”
“Yea, I know who you’re talking about.”
“Well he was behind the register when I burst through the doors. Pat you should have heard that sissy scream.”

More laughter followed as Pat tried to imagine the middle aged gay man in a panic.

“Oh please, please don’t harm me. We ain’t got no safe and all the money is here in the register.”

“Before I could even say this is a stick up, he had all of the money out of the register and into a brown bag for me. He pissed me off for being such a coward and a fagot so I reached across the counter, snatched him to me and slapped the shit out of him with my 38. Blood was pouring all down the side of his cock sucking face. ”

The boys could barely contain themselves as the leaned on their father’s work bench for support, their guffawing almost caused them loose their balance and fall down on the garage floor.

“Paul what’d the fagot say when you hit ‘em.”
“He didn’t say shit; he just screamed real gay then passed out. He was like, oh!”

Paul mocked poor David’s unmanly voice and effeminate mannerisms as he fell unconscious to the floor. The two brothers howled once more.

“Paul, I’m going over to Tommy’s to get some coke, you wanna come?”
“Hell yeah, let’s go.”
“I just gotta make a stop by Luscious’ house first.”

Pat needed his heroin fix and he really enjoyed “speed balling”. Paul didn’t like to do heroin too often because of how sick it made him, but tonight was a night of celebration.

“Sure dude, I’ll ride with you to Luscious’ house. I wouldn’t mind a little H today myself.”

The boys quickly exited the garage and jumped into the Cordoba. Neither Romano son was aware that their crimes hadn’t gone undetected; they each left behind major clues that would lead to their arrests. The old lady clerk at the Quick Mart recognized Pat’s footwear from when he filled out an application earlier in the day. He was wearing a mask and had changed his clothing but his ratty old boots gave him away. Later she gave a description to the police.

“Officer, I always believed that you could judge a man by the type of shoes he’s got on his feet. When I saw that boy come in here earlier in the day with those nasty boots on, just a wipin’ at his nose every three seconds; I knew he was trouble. Then when he come back here and robbed me the first thing I noticed was them same dirty old boots. I told my manager George to stop interviewing and hiring these hoodlums. They ain’t nothing but trouble. It’s only by the grace of Jesus that fool boy didn’t do somethin’ to hurt me. Jesus saves honey, and he answers prayers too. I was prayin’ that boy don’t shoot and the Lord answered my prayer.”

The detective quickly interrupted the elderly cashier when she began to speak freely about her faith, he being a man of none.

“Well ma’am you can go over and give your full statement to Officer Freeman, oh and I’ll need that boy’s application also.”

With that the detective turned and walked back to his car only to be called to the scene of another local convenience store robbery. In this robbery the cashier had been pistol whipped and was en route to the hospital to receive treatment for his injuries. At the scene of the robbery a peculiar thing was found, a wallet. The wallet contained a driver’s license but it was a fake. Prints were lifted from the wallet but they weren’t in the system. David was interviewed but couldn’t give an accurate description of the assailant because of the mask the man was wearing and the great level of stress David experienced at the time. The police would need a break to solve the second case. That break would come soon enough. Meanwhile the boys were in their parents’ garage getting high, drinking beer and listening to records without a care in the world. Not a moment’s thought was giving to Pete’s plight. Only incarcerated three days and already forgotten by his brothers. Pat and Paul were engulfed in the temporary feeling of euphoria provided by their drugs of choice. They felt as though they had committed the perfect crimes but that couldn’t be further from the truth. They even made plans to continue their crime spree.

“Paul there’s a store in Apopka that would be an easy score. The old man who owns the store works behind the register, we could take him easy. This time we should go together, you be the wheel man and I’ll go in and rob the joint.”

A wide lazy grin covered Paul’s face.

“It sounds good to me, let’s do it.”

The boys both fired up cigarettes then sat back and let the fantasy of another robbery wash over them. Their senses and sensibilities were numb, eyes half open and blood shot. Smiles still covered their faces; they were just where they wanted to be.

The following morning police cars converged on the Romano home in search of their suspect in the robbery of the local Quick Mart. Mr. Romano readily agreed to allow the police to enter his home and detain his son for questioning. He had long grown tired of his sons’ foolish illegal activities and was intent on showing tough love in any further scrapes his boys’ found themselves in with the law or otherwise. Pat was found in his bedroom passed out from a long night of getting loaded. It took hours before he could be interviewed about the robbery; Pat needed time to sleep off the night’s bender. When finally awake and in front of authorities answering questions, Pat denied everything and then asked for a lawyer. He was detained and provided with a public defender. Paul slept through the entire ordeal. He had no idea his brother had been arrested until he spoke with his parents later that afternoon. His father was angry but calm in questioning him about his involvement.

“Paul we have been trying to wake you up all day. Do you know where your brother is?”
“No Dad, where is he?”
“He’s in jail Paul. He’s in jail for robbery. Do you know anything about it?”
“No Dad, I don’t know nothing about it.”

He then looked to his dear mother and addressed her as well.

“Mom, I wasn’t involved in a robbery with Pat, honest.”

Mrs. Romano walked over and hugged the boy with tears streaming down her cheeks. She released her embrace and then looked up at her youngest son.

“Paul your father and I have always worked so hard to give you boys the best and to teach you right from wrong. We tried to instill the right morals and values in you boys but you all seem to have gone astray. I believe you when you say that you weren’t involved in this but I know in my heart that you have been out doing wrong too and you will also have to pay for your crime one way or another. I am praying for you son, I am praying for us all.”

She turned and walked briskly out of the room and up to her bedroom. Mrs. Romano needed time to grieve in private for what had become of the loving family she tried to raise. His wife’s sorrow angered Mr. Romano and he turned to his son with a stern look in his eye.

“Look, I’m gonna tell you this one time and one time only. You better not bring anymore grief into this house through your foolishness. If I see your mother in distress anytime soon because of your actions, there will be hell to pay!”

Mr. Romano gave his son one last serious look of warning and then went to his bedroom to comfort his beautiful wife of thirty-two years. Paul thought to himself how suddenly he had found himself all alone. Both his older brothers had been incarcerated in less than a week and were probably going to do some serious time for their crimes. These thoughts of contrition quickly escaped him as the urge to get high took over. Paul went into his bedroom; pulled a plate filled with cocaine from under his bed and then inhaled a long thick line of the poison. His brothers’ troubles no longer seemed so serious; Paul’s mind was now miles away from reality. He wanted to avoid any further questioning from his parents so he bagged up half of his drugs and hid the rest. He crept out of the house without saying goodbye to his parents. They were in their bedroom with the door closed discussing in length the plight of their family. Paul drove to Tommy’s house to lay low and tell what happened to his brothers. While there, Tommy informed Paul of a scam he had to make some money and how he could get in on it too. Paul listened intently with no reservations about committing another crime so soon after his last and his brothers being jailed.

“Paul, you remember that chick I used to date from Winter Park right?”
“Yea Tommy, uh her name was Sarah, right?”
“Yea, that’s her. Well she works for a friend of her father’s construction company and she got a hold of some payroll checks. The account is good and nobody knows that the checks are missing yet. She pulled them out of the middle of one of those big books of checks so they won’t find out for a while. All I need is for a few fine upstanding young people like yourself to cash them around the state. You got a fake ID right Paul?”
“Yea I got a fake ID. I keep it in my wallet.”

Just then Paul started to pat his pockets realizing he didn’t have his wallet on him. As he listened to Tommy talk he started thinking about where the wallet could be. Calm wondering turned to frantic, frenetic thinking as Paul recalled his act of brutality committed on the homosexual older man.

“Could I have left my wallet in that store? Naw, it’s probably in my junkie room somewhere.”

Paul thought to himself as he finished listening to the details of Tommy’s plan.

“So you gonna come by here tomorrow around 2:00pm right Paul?”
“Yea, I’ll be here Tommy.”
“Hey and again man I’m sorry ta hear about your brothers getting’ busted. I wish ‘em the best man.”

Tommy patted young Paul on the shoulder and as he sat at the kitchen table racking his brain about exactly where his wallet might be. Paul eventually rose from his seat, said goodbye and exited the man’s home still unnerved. When he returned home he found his parents gone. They went to the police station to get more information on Pat’s charges. Paul was happy to be alone in the house so that he could thoroughly search for his wallet without being disturbed. After more than an hour of searching and four more huge lines; Paul thought that it might be a good idea to pose as a customer and call down to the store inquiring about a lost wallet. That was just the break the police were waiting for.

“Mc Getty’s, how can I help you?”
“Hi ma’am my name is Paul Walker and I’ve lost my wallet. I was wondering if any of your employees or customers had found a wallet and turned it into you.”

Mrs. Mc Getty smiled to herself as she realized that this was the call she and the police had been waiting for.

“Why yes Mr. Walker we have your wallet locked up in the office. The manager will be in tomorrow morning around nine so you can pick you wallet up then.”
“Thank you so much ma’am, you’re a life saver. I’ll see you tomorrow morning a little after nine.”
“You’re very welcome Mr. Walker and you have a good day now.”

Mrs. Getty hung up the phone and immediately called the lead detective on the case and informed him that the owner of the wallet would be coming to the store the next morning.

“Good work Mrs. Mc Getty, we will have officers posted at you store at eight o’clock. If you need me anytime before that, please feel free to give me a call.”

Mrs. Getty sat down in her office chair, peeled open a can of Schlitz and took a long swig feeling thoroughly satisfied with herself. She was anxious to see the culprit brought to justice. Paul sat down and did another line feeling satisfied that he had solved his problem and would soon have a new source of illegal income. He called Tommy to remind him that he would be there the next afternoon to help in his check cashing/ kiting scheme. After there brief conversation, Paul did another line and then he heard his parent’s car pulling into the driveway. He ran to the refrigerator, grabbed three beers, ran back into his bedroom and locked the door before his parents had even gotten out of the car. He would pretend to be asleep two hours later when his mother called him for dinner. Paul was already consuming his meal for the evening; an untamable toxin, fueling his ill, self injurious thoughts.

The next morning Paul was at Mc Getty’s at nine sharp; he wanted to get his wallet as soon as possible so that he could commence his new illegal business. When he arrived he found a very nice and helpful middle-aged man behind the counter.

“Hello sir, how are you today?”
“I’m doing ok, my name is Paul Walker and I’ve come to pick up my wallet.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Walker; we’ve been waiting on you sir.”

Just then three officers entered the establishment and tackled Paul to the ground, placing him in handcuffs. Paul struggled then pleaded to no avail. He soon found himself in the same Orange County Jail as his brothers. It was a sad but liberating day that Mr. and Mrs. Romano had to visit all three of their sons separately as incarcerates. Embarrassing and cheerless was their time spent in visitation but relief and a release of stress was felt once they arrived home. The couple realized that for the first time in years they would sleep easy knowing exactly where their sons were and exactly what they were doing. Mr. Romano awakened in the early morning hours to use the restroom and get a drink of water. He became ashamed of the slight joy he felt for the peace in his home in the absence of his sons. He dropped to his knees and prayed for forgiveness and the well being of his children then rejoined his wife in bed. The boys all took different approaches initially to the difficult predicaments they found themselves in. Peter was the first to acknowledge the part he had played in his own life’s failures and face his drug addiction. He avoided a trial by pleading out and was sentenced to a far shorter term for his cooperation. Pat eventually fired his court appointed lawyer and decided to defend himself at trial. This decision was made under the duress of the pain he felt from withdrawal. His mind and body were sick and he thought that he could some how get out sooner and back to his beloved smack if he defended himself. The exact opposite proved to be true; a man that has himself for a lawyer has a fool for a client. Mrs. Johnson, the store clerk, was in court and ready to tell her story again at Pat’s trial. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her attacker’s barrage of questions; she stood her ground and stuck to her story.

“Again, like I said young man, I know it was you because of them nasty old boots you wore. They were the same ones you had on when you came in for your interview. I remembered them because of how disgusting they were. Why you come to an interview with them dirty things on your feet anyway. Were you even trying to get a job or just casing the store?”

Pat became frustrated at her questioning.

“Ma’am, I’ll ask the questions here. Now are you sure that without a doubt you can identify these particular boots as the one you saw me wearing the night of the robbery?”

Mrs. Johnson pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and answered in a staunchly unwavering tone.

“How many times are you going to ask me the same question? As God as my witness I am absolutely 100% sure that you are the one who came into that store, waved a gun in my face and demanded all of the money. It was you and only you! You robbed me young man and now it’s time for you to pay for your crime. Now stop wasting all of these good folks time with this foolishness and go on and take your medicine.”

The judge enjoyed the elderly woman’s frank commentary and reprimand of the defendant’s actions so he allowed her great latitude in answering his questions. Pat was feeling the pressure and the realization that he was about to do some serious time was helping him to loose control as Mrs. Johnson continued on.

“If I had to judge, I would say that you would have to be the most inept criminal and defense attorney I have ever seen in my life. You might want to find something better to do with your life son because this crime thing is just not working out for you.”

With that last comment, the courtroom erupted in laughter and the judge brought them back to order. Pat snapped.

“You old bitch, I should have blown your head off when I had a chance.”

Pat caught himself before he could continue but it was too late every word was heard clearly by everyone present in the courtroom, even his family. The judge was more than happy to hold him in contempt for threatening a witness and Pat eventually received a hefty sentence and tongue lashing for his crimes against the community and court.

Paul, like his brother Pete, plead out to receive a lesser sentence. An apology, oral and written, to poor David was also part of his deal. He would be paying restitution to the man as well for the injuries he incurred during the attack. Paul was almost relieved that it was over; he was tired of running the race of routine addiction. In his cell things were simplified. Out of sight and eventually out of mind were his vices. He was beginning to learn that his life could be lived without the fleeting rush drugs provided him. Mr. and Mrs. Romano went to mass and prayed for their sons. Again they were saddened by their sons’ incarceration but happy that they would now receive the help they all desperately needed. The simplification of their lives would be beneficial to them in the years to follow. Each of them learned slowly to be virtuous, blameless and almost noble before their release many years later. They all reconnected with their faith and creator allowing them the room and light to grow. Sometimes we get out of ourselves, our outstanding; only after experiencing or witnessing our wretched worst.

Peter, Pat and Paul

Epilogue:

Brothers Peter, Pat and Paul were each born two years apart into a strong and close knit Irish-Italian family in the suburb of Pine Hills Florida in the mid to late 1960’s. Pine Hills was a much different place then, lacking in the criminal presence many cities across the south were experiencing at the time. The Romano Family was of Catholic faith and attended mass as every Sunday. Mother Sarah was an Irish American born and raised in upstate New York. Her husband Sal was born and raised in Brooklyn and was appalled at what was becoming of his beloved city and neighborhood. The decision was made to move to the south and raise a family. The family owned a diner and worked day and night to scratch out a living. The Romano’s had four children in all. Patty was their youngest, three years Paul’s junior. The Romano’s were well respected in their small community and always attempted to instill proper morals and values in their children. Patty always listened and made every attempt to please her parents and God. She would marry, have a successful career as the small town’s first female pharmacist and raise a family of four children of her own. To the family’s angst, her brother’s lives would be quite different from hers. The boys were fascinated by their family’s rumored business. Not the diner but the business that their uncles Benny and Larry always spoke of when having a few drinks. Most of their uncles’ stories were fabricated or exaggerated; neither man was a “made man”. They just hung around with a few low level gangsters and “cracked a few heads” in their youth. Benny and Larry’s older brother Sal would chastise whenever he overheard them spinning wild tales of a gangster’s life to his impressionable sons. Eventually the brothers found themselves back in Brooklyn and then in prison for a multitude of petty crimes associated with their chosen lifestyles. Their negative presence was gone from the boys’ lives but their criminal fables and fantasies lived on in the boys’ hearts and mind. They encouraged each other in living up to the mobster personas their uncles set out for them. By the early eighties the boys had viewed every Mafia movie ever made several times over. Thefts and burglaries were committed and kept hidden from their hard nosed father. As the boys entered their early and mid twenties they had developed vices and habits that needed to be tended to several times daily. Some of these habits cost the boys in excess of $100.00 a day. The Romano boys were becoming more creative and brazen in their illegal activities. Brazen gave way to idiotic as the vices and habits became of central importance in the trio’s lives. Sal, father of three junkies, severely hurt and confused. Tension rouse between spouses, a mother’s love caused her to make unsound financial decisions. Kindness is taken for weakness for a short time but tough love prevails. Spouses once again united, the boys were forced to find a new way to feed the beast. From their hunger developed comical criminal activity for the ages. More content and productive were the three brothers in prison than they had ever been in their lives. They all practice their faith and serve their God daily. Knowledge and degrees of education were earned during their long years as state property. Released in their mid and late thirties, the men raised families became active in their church, took over and expanded the family business as well as cared for their elderly hardworking parents. We can all change! Through Christ We Can All Change!

 

Celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ

Celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ; the date may be debated but our God’s selfless acts cannot. This is the reason for the season for believers, for the retailers not so much. To them it’s all about getting as much cream out of the cash cow that is now the pagan holiday we call Xmas. We are duped into thinking we need to buy many extravagant gifts to show and prove our love. Happy Holidays? As we gather together under the tree this year let’s not lose sight of what brought us all together, The Gift! The gift of our sins being washed away by the Blood our loving and benevolent Jesus, shed to save us so that we may spend eternity in heaven alongside our Father. If you are a believer, you have a whole lot more to be thankful for than any of the little trinkets this world has to offer. Have a Blessed and Merry CHRISTmas everyone.

Whispers in Wonderland Part 2

Dennis tried to follow the investigation into Joe’s murder but found information difficult to come by. There was nothing on the evening news, no article in the local newspapers, no mention on the radio or internet. It would seem as though it never happened. It was just another example of how undesirables were treated by the law. These things Dennis despised but would now use to his advantage. The same law enforcement that was listless in its investigation of the murders of three young boys was again showing minimal effort in another unsolved homicide.

In the weeks that followed Joe’s demise Dennis started living life as he always intended. He ate, slept, taught, made love and laughed. His new attitude did not go unnoticed by his grateful spouse.

“Jennifer, I can’t believe the change in Dennis. He is like a new man. I had him visit a therapist to kind of air things out about these nightmares he was having. It must have done the trick because he’s been sleeping, we’ve been going out and he’s a tiger in the bedroom again.”

The sisters shared a laugh, Sarah continued on.

“I don’t know what it is but I just hope it continues. Maybe I’ll finally have that baby mom’s always bugging me about. Even if I don’t, I’m going to have fun trying.”

Jennifer laughed with her younger sister once more before they said their goodbyes and hung up. Little did Sarah know, Dennis had more work to do. He would be this “fun Dennis” for quite some time to come. Kristopher and Chauncey would be avenged just as Treyvone was. Dennis now felt duty bound not only to the victims but also to himself to rid the world of these scum. It would seem that there would be more whispering in Dennis’ wonderland.

Coach Finedusky taught and coached children for over forty years. He had been molesting his students and players for the past thirty. All the trust and respect garnered from his position and his teams stellar records were used as currency to purchase his victims. Ashamed, guilty, embarrassed, sub-human, feelings silenced his victims. Who would believe a poor little kid over the prestigious Coach Finedusky? Many a damaged, wounded boy grew into a dysfunctional adult because of the horrors committed against them.

Only the weakest, most eager to please was chosen to receive coach’s special attention. Finedusky had always viewed himself as a good judge of character; he knew how to pick ’em. He came across a thin dark skinned boy name Chauncey that held ideas of becoming a great basketball player. Anxious was the lad to have private basketball lessons with the larger than life coach of his older cousins’ AAU team. Put up a fight Chauncey did when Coach got a little tricky with him. A struggle ensued and threats were made by the boy to tell his thug uncles. Finedusky didn’t want those problems so he instead chose to snuff the little boy’s life out. Strangled and smothered was young Chauncey until his little lungs held breath no more; the cowardly fifty-five year old lay on the boy’s chest with all his weight crushing his ribcage. Right hand around a thin windpipe, left forearm pressed down on a gym towel that was covering Chauncey’s mouth. Chauncey’s soul traveled home before his limp body cooled. Still warm was lifeless Chauncey, still aroused was Finedusky. The boy’s dead body was violated then dumped never to be identified once found. Finedusky being the last to see the boy should have been the primary suspect but very few questions were asked of or answered by the great coach. Chauncey became just another missing Black kid that no one gave a second thought to. No Amber alert or massive man hunt, just a few flyers and his mama crying on the eleven o’clock news. The case quickly turned cold and coach continued on living his life of depravity. Dennis heard rumors about what happened to the boy from very credible sources. As years passed more evidence came to light but not much action was taken. Dennis was now prepared to take that action.

Unfortunately for Dennis the coach’s notoriety would ensure that there would be a thorough investigation if Finedusky were to be murdered or come up missing. Dennis figured that he might have to make it look like an accident. Finedusky was old, not in the greatest health due to his alcoholism and on several medications that could cause drowsiness. He loved to visit his local watering hole; Finedusky stayed thirsty. Dennis figured he’d join coach in a few drinks one day and chat him up a little. Finedusky could never pass up a free drink.

“This seat taken Coach?”

Finedusky looked Dennis over then offered the seat to him.

“Naw, the seat’s all yours. Do we know each other friend?”
“Well coach everyone in this town knows you; you’re a legend. Dan Jennings, class of ‘99”

Dennis extended his hand and the coach shook it with a firm grip.

“I’ve seen many a game you’ve coached, we always wondered why you didn’t leave us. You know, we always thought that you would move on to bigger and better things. It took me some time but now I understand; it’s your dedication to this community. Men like you don’t do it for the fame or the money. You do it to make a difference! And I thank you for it. Bartender can I have two of what Coach is drinking here?”

When the bartender came back with two glasses of Wild Turkey and Coke Dennis called for a toast. Several other men joined in as Dennis flattered the old man after dosing him with GHB. The date rape drug took hold quick, Dennis ordered the third round then paid the check with cash. He had taken a cab to the bar because he knew that he wouldn’t be driving himself home. His car was stashed near where he would leave the pedophile. To the other patrons it seemed that coach had just had a few too many (as he often did) when Dennis carried him out, one of coach’s arms draped around his neck and his arm around the old man’s waist to steady him.

“I’ll drive the coach home so that he can sleep it off. You boys take it easy; don’t do nothing I wouldn’t do.”

A few of the guys chuckled as the door closed behind Dennis and his new friend. Dennis placed Finedusky behind the wheel; propped a stick on the gas pedal and stirred from the passenger seat. Dennis pushed the gas peddle hard with the stick, the car accelerated and Dennis steered carefully. A mile from where Dennis had his car parked there was a wicked curve above a huge body of water. As they approached he whispered in the ear of the evil doer.

“How ya feeling coach? Feeling no pain huh? Just you wait a few minutes. Why do you do it, rape little boys? It’s easy as taking candy from a baby right. I’m sure usually they don’t put up much of a fight do they? But one did though right, didn’t he you old sick fuck. Chauncey is dead and he will be avenged. I would like to say you’re going to join him but young Chauncey is in Heaven with our Father. But you’re going to hell to spend eternity with the master you serve. You sick son of a…”

Dennis couldn’t finish his sentence, rage took over as he punched and slashed at the old man’s face with his pocket knife. The drugs and alcohol were beginning to wear off as Finedusky screamed in pain from his beating and stabbing. Before he could say anything coherent, Dennis snatched the wheel to the right and dove from the car after snatching up his acceleration stick. The car smashed through the guard rail and plummeted into the cool waters below. As Dennis came out of his roll and stood up he could hear the old man screaming once the car got airborne then fell rapidly. The large lake held many gators and to remove more evidence Dennis figured he’d put the gators to work. The short jog was made to his car and he drove pack to the scene of the accident where he poured a bucket of blood into the water surrounding the wrecked car.

Finedusky certainly couldn’t have survived the fall in his condition but police didn’t need to see fresh knife wounds and bruises on his old face when they recovered the body. There wouldn’t be much to find. Two-fifteen Am and not a car in sight. Dennis headed home a little scraped up but relaxed and in the mood to pleasure the wife. Pleasured well Sarah was, longer and stronger than ever before.

A day later Dennis sat proudly watching the evening news; reminiscing on the events of the night before. Finedusky thought it to be just another night of reveling but instead it became a night of destiny. He was always destined to pay for his crimes; unknown to him that it would be in the form of a most violent death.

“Whatcha watchin’ Hun?”
“Oh just watching the news. Sad thing, local legendary basketball coach Finedusky drove off the road and into a lake.”
“Oh that’s awful. Was he drinking?”
“Apparently he was on his way home from his favorite bar.”
“What a shame, I’ll pray for his family.”
“Pray for his victims.”

Dennis thought to himself as he rose from his seat and embraced his wife. A gentle kiss was placed on her lips and then her slight buttocks grabbed firmly as she was pulled to him. More passionate kissing and heavy petting ensued. Dennis wondered silently to himself about his new found sexual prowess and its connection to the “work” he was doing as he carried his wife to their marital bed. Strong love was made, Mrs. Reynolds found slumber, Mr. Reynolds took to the shower. His wheels were once again turning, plotting the third part of his mission while monitoring the progress of the investigation into what he had already accomplished.

For days Dennis watched every report and read every article about the death of the Great Coach Finedusky. The patrons at the bar spoke of another gentleman who may have left with the coach but in the same breath they spoke of a stubborn old man who wouldn’t listen to anyone. The authorities assumed that the old man refused a ride home and drove himself over an embankment and into the lake below. That was the only conclusion that made any sense. Surely the other man didn’t drug him then drive him over the side while diving out of a moving vehicle. The case was quickly closed and officially reported as an accident.

When a young Kristopher Shumphert went missing from Pine Hills Elementary there was an outcry from the community to find the lost boy. An article appeared in the back page of the local newspaper, it was run only one day. A few concerned citizens put together search parties but their efforts yielded nothing, not even a clue. There was no Amber Alert put out for the boy thus the case went cold in less than a month. To Dennis the case never went cold, he never forgot the little boy with kind eyes behind thick glasses. Kristopher oldest of three siblings was an inquisitive athletic young boy full of promise. Many a prayer said and tear shed by his loving single mother over the disappearance of her special little lad.

Dennis started his own investigation and even tried to share information with the police. His insights fell on death ears. The police were on to the next case or simply passed him on to the next officer who was just as unwilling to assist him or even hear him out. Every employee of the school’s background was looked into by Dennis before he started investigating parents and locals. Something didn’t sit right with Dennis about one man in particular a janitor named Bob Robinson.

Bob Robinson seemed to have been employed at several elementary schools across the country were apparently children had gone missing. The majority of them were inner city schools with mostly underprivileged students. When children with parents who have less money, education and social standing go missing there is less attention paid. No one loses much sleep or gives much attention. Bob Robinson knew and prayed upon this. A professional janitor you might call him since he had been employed as one for over twenty-five years. There was no better place for a pedophile to spend his days than around an abundance of prey. The more Dennis investigated, the more he learned about his new target. Mr. Bob Robinson was not only a pedophile but potentially a serial killer as well. Dennis just couldn’t understand how he could so easily obtain information on the primary suspect of this heinous crime but law enforcement couldn’t find the first clue. The conclusion was made in Dennis’ mind that young Kristopher had died in a most horrible way at the hands of this sadistic old man. Again, the boy would be avenged.

The janitor’s closet was a dark dank place full of chemicals and abuse. Outside the door lay a thick maroon rug that sometimes got caught in the door causing it not to close fully. Dennis knew this and actually used adhesive to position the rug so that it would leave the door partially ajar every time it was closed. Dennis on his day off was on school grounds and stalking his prey. On this day once again Bob was himself preying, preying upon a kindergartener whom he’d lured into his lair of debauchery. Behind himself and the little boy he closed the door then readied himself to do his little dirty business. As soon as the door was closed Dennis removed his ski mask from his backpack and slid it over his head. As the bell rang for class and the hallways emptied Dennis abruptly pushed his way into the spacious double door closet. In his hand he held a homemade weapon consisting of a metal pipe wrapped in duck tape. Bob stood with his hand on the boy’s shoulder pushing him to his knees. Exposed and erect was Bob’s genitalia anxious to destroy yet another young life. Upon seeing the masked man wielding a weapon Bob lost his concentration. Before he could utter a syllable his testicle were beaten with the pipe. Dennis struck the evil man between his legs with an uppercut motion then ordered the young boy out of the room. He pulled the rug from the door allowing it to shut flush. Bob lay on the ground in the fetal position with his hands between his legs cursing and writhing in pain.

“Son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing?”

Dennis quickly retorted.

“What the hell are you doing?! What kind of hell have you been bringing into the lives of all of these children you’ve raped and murdered? I’m here to make things right Bobby and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”

With that being said Dennis beat the man in his knee caps with his metal pipe. Before the screaming got too loud Dennis soaked a rag with ammonia and shoved it into the man’s mouth then taped it shut as he beat Bob around the head and neck. The dull dingy room was suddenly brightened up with splatters of color on the walls, ceiling and floor. The remainder of the bottle on ammonia he poured into a metal bucket as he kneeled down next to Bob so that he could whisper in his ear.

“Today in your demise you will feel the pain you’ve inflicted upon so many families. Today I am your judge, jury and executioner and I must tell you; I take great pride in my work. Enjoy hell my sick demented little friend.”

Bob was almost about to pass out so Dennis snatched the duck tape and rag from his mouth then crushed both his ankle bones with his trusty pipe. The man let out a slight yelp as he tried to catch his breath. Bob’s shallow breathing turned heavy as Dennis poured bleach into the bucket of ammonia sending toxic fumes billowing from the bucket up into the air. All over the room Dennis scattered articles, notes and pictures of Bob’s past alleged crimes. He didn’t want this man to receive sympathy from anyone who may find his corpse. Dennis smiled as he took off his gloves and mask then eased from the room with his back pack over his shoulder. Bob lay in the smoke filled room lungs and eyes burning as he gasped his last few breaths unable to walk or even crawl to freedom. Dennis exited the building to the bright daylight of the Florida afternoon refreshed and relieved his job was done. Into his luxury coup he climbed and drove off back to his lovely home in Windermere. Several minutes later the toxic fumes would be discovered and the school evacuated. Eventually Bob’s body was found and an investigation into his death ensued. Not only did the authorities investigate the murder of Bob Robinson but also the materials they found in his tomb of sorts. Once they realized that they were dealing with a murdered pedophile who had been preying on and maybe even murdering children for decades the investigation cooled. A vigilante it would seem was behind this but instead of pursuing the offender the police were more inclined to give him a metal and a key to the city.

Later that night again Mrs. Reynolds got her world rocked and Dennis slept like a baby. Repent he did for his sins being a “Good Christian” but shamefully Dennis felt so justified in his actions that he half heartedly asked for God’s forgiveness. Nonetheless being a believer and lover of Christ, he was forgiven and given a new purpose. Dennis opened a grief center that specialized in the investigation of abuse of all types. He worked hand in hand with law enforcement never again crossing the line into vigilantism. Eventually the Reynolds were blessed with their own child and Dennis continued to work tirelessly as an advocate for the victims of the world giving his life a higher purpose. His victims still burn in hell, this day and forever.

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Whispers in Wonderland
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Whispers in Wonderland Part 1

Through fields of grain they run, arms wide pretending to be birds soaring through the sky, each one trying to fly higher than the other. They glide in and out of formation one in front of the other laughing and giggling the whole way. Early twilight, sky golden as the sun slowly sets illuminating the filed in which they play. The boy’s smiling faces glow. Each bird tries to fly faster than the others racing to the clearing. A tie, none faster than the others they each complete their journey at the same time. High fives and good jobs go all around. The field leads into a playground with everything from swings to a bouncy house. Three boys Treyvone, Kristopher and Chauncey take off their ball caps and throw them in the air in celebration for the great time they were about to have. Not a care in the world, the boys were in heaven climbing on the monkey bars one minute, spinning around on the merry go ‘round the next. The playground is theirs’ alone on this special late afternoon in the summer’s sun. No happier could a young boy be frolicking around with no restraints. Parched they became so over to the water fountain they ran to get their sips in. Sips turn to hard swallows, hard swallows turn to gulps. Front of shirts become wet as the three amigos begin to splash and chase one another with hands cupped full of water. More water leaked through their little fingers onto their shirts than actually stayed in their palms to be thrown at their friends. Joy, pure joy and elation they felt, the warm evening air drying their shirts as they climbed onto the swings. Back and forth they swung, one trying to swing higher than the other laughing up and down. Treyvone, Kristopher and Chauncey loved their playground. It was their personal wonderland.

Most young boys are inflicted with a serious sweet tooth; these three were no exception. Kristopher waved his little hand to his two friends in a “c’mon” motion. They quickly followed. Off the playground and down a dandelion covered hill they ran. Race car noises they made during this race. Pretending to be gripping steering wheels they weaved through the patches of sun colored weeds. Suddenly each of them put on their brakes and came to a screeching stop. Three weeds were plucked from the earth’s floor and held up to little lips. Blow they did, hard sending what they called white feathers through the humid air. Just then a gust of wind blew through lifting the feathers high up into the atmosphere. The boys pointed up trying to follow the feathers until they were no longer visible. Little eyes shined, the late sun reflecting off their pupils. Another race was in order.

“One your mark, get set, go!”

Treyvone yelled as the three took off once again. Motivated by their sweet teeth the three raced on to the next destination, the ice cream stand. Once again the race ended in a tie as they each touched the small building in the shape of an ice cream cone at the same time. What do you know? No line. From their pockets each pulled a coin, placed them on the counter and placed their orders. Soft serve in huge waffle cones is what they sold. The boys’ mouths watered watching each cone being made, vanilla for Treyvone, Strawberry for Kristopher and Chocolate for Chauncey. Under a large tree covered in Spanish moss they sat looking up at what they pretended to be large grey and green spiders hanging from the huge branches. Another gust blew giving the spiders life. They danced back and forth to the boys’ delight. Giggles were shared as the sun still sat in the same place. It seemed daylight savings time was working overtime.

By the time they finished their cones ice cream ran from their little hands down their arms pooling at the bottom of their forearms. To the park bathroom they speed walked, still racing. Another tie, once inside, they washed the sweet dairy from their hands, arms and faces. In the mirrors the boys looked laughing at one another’s distorted reflections. Chauncey made the decision to go to the pool before they lost all light. Each of them had a locker in the pool’s locker room. In each of the boy’s lockers was a pair of swimming trunks, flip flops and towel. Not quite thirty minutes after eating ice cream the boys threw caution to the wind and dove in the pool.

“Cannonball!”

They each yelled before splashing down in the cool water. Very skilled swimmers were each of the boys, good thing because there seemed to be no lifeguard on duty. Laps back and forth they swam trying to determine a champion. Still none was had so they launched into a spirited game of Marco Polo.

“Marco”
“Polo”

The boys’ voices echoed through the pool area as the boys splashed away, great summer fun. Swim they did until each of them became fatigued. Back into the locker room they went to change back into their clothes. They dried themselves, redressed with ball caps on heads and headed for the boardwalk.

The sun had set. When they reached the bright lights of the boardwalk they headed directly for the arcade. The boys had finally tired of racing, they just walked along at an excited brisk pace. Once inside they each headed straight for their favorite video game which just happened to all be side by side. A ton of “wows” and “awesomes” were said from one friend to another as they each tried to top the previous high score. Play long and hard they did until hunger set in on each of them. All of the high scores were eclipsed by the three gaming masters. Congratulations and praise they gave one another for their achievements. Exiting the arcade they were taken over by the enticing aroma of fresh baked pizza. They followed the heavenly scent until they reached its origin. Again they each pulled a coin from their pockets and placed them on the counter. A huge slice was served to each boy. Treyvone was served pizza with extra cheese. Kristopher had pepperoni and Chauncey Sausage. Sodas were ordered as well Sprite for Treyvone, Dr. Pepper for Kristopher and Coke for Chauncey. On the benches of picnic tables they sat enjoying their dinner. Grease they wiped from their tiny chins as they slurped down the last of their sodas. In the distance they could see the giant Ferris wheel. The boys all let out cheers then took off running towards it. The colorful wheel was on the other end of the boardwalk; there was much to distract their little minds before they got there. Suddenly Kristopher saw a ring toss booth up ahead. They all stopped to try their luck at the game of chance and skill. There were prizes to be won and each of the boys had intentions of winning one. Again they each pulled a coin from their pockets and placed them on the counter. Three rings were placed in front of them and they each kissed their ring for good luck. One, two, three, they each tossed their ring onto the peg on the first try.

“We have three winners!”

The attendant announced over the heads of the boys. The three jumped for joy in a small huddle before choosing their prizes. There were so many to choose from. After brief contemplation, they each decided to get some “sports stuff”. Treyvone dreamt of becoming a pitcher in the Big Leagues so he chose a baseball and baseball glove.
Kristopher had dreams of becoming an NFL quarterback so he chose a football. Chauncey fantasized about playing in the NBA so he chose a basketball. The boys thanked the attendant then ran along in the direction of the Ferris wheel.

They only got five hundred yards before they were drawn in by another fun filled distraction.

“Bumper cars!”

The boys yelled in unison. They rushed onto the slippery floor and jumped in the car of their choice. Treyvone chose red, Kristopher picked blue and Chauncey jumped in a green car. Around they drove bumping into each other, chuckling with every collision. As their cars came to a stop the boys heard explosions from a far. They looked up to see the night sky lit up with fireworks.

“Wow, this is the greatest night ever!”

Kristopher exclaimed to his two buddies. Little boys’ faces shining from the random rays and colors of light created by the fireworks. The fireworks show ended with a grand finale of a choreographed dance of noise and light created by the explosions followed by smoke in the air. The boys applauded and whistled their approval of the wonderful display. The Ferris wheel became their focus again so they headed in that direction.

The boys walked past several buildings and booths on the way to the Giant Ferris wheel in the sky. As they passed one particularly dark building a voice called out to them.

“Treyvone, come here. I’ve got something for you.”

Treyvone seemed to know the voice so the boys stood and waited for him to come back from where the voice called him to. Then they heard another voice from across the street.

“Kristopher, let me show you something over here.”

Off went Kristopher to see what the voice wanted to show him. Lastly Chauncey heard a voice behind him. He dared not turn around.

“Chauncey let’s go over here.”

A strong hand nudged him into the shadows. Seconds later, blood curdling screams echo throughout the boardwalk, pool, park and field. Harm was being done to the boys. Screams, more screams, screams!

Just then Sarah Reynolds shakes her husband from his reoccurring nightmare. Dennis wakes in a cold sweat; shaken from the horrors he had just witnessed subconsciously.

“Dennis, are you alright Honey?”

Dennis wiped his brow trying to gather himself and make sense of why he was tortured nightly by such heinous acts.

“Yes Sarah, I’m ok. I just can’t shake it that’s all. It still haunts me, knowing and then knowing that nothing is being done about it. How does that happen?”

Dennis’ loving wife let out a sigh before responding. She was growing tired of reliving what happened to those poor little Black Boys in which she considered the ghetto of Pine Hills but there was nothing they could do about it.

“Dennis, Honey I am so sorry that you’re having these awful dreams but we need to get past this. It’s tragic and unbelievable that such acts could go unpunished but we’re not law enforcement officers we’re educators. You obsessing over it won’t solve anything.”

Dennis sat up in bed now perturbed with his insensitive wife.

“That’s exactly the problem Sarah; it doesn’t have to be solved everyone knows who committed all three crimes. How young lives are taken and nothing is done about it is beyond me. I know that you don’t deal with much outside of the curriculum in your upper middle class school but where I choose to teach you have to do a little more than that. Sometimes unfortunately I’m all these children have in the form of a positive role model or parental figure at all. We do the same job in theory but I go through a little more so I guess you just wouldn’t understand.”

With that being said Dennis got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to wash his face and neck. His pajamas were soaked so he thought it necessary to take a shower. He needed some space to think anyway. Dennis could hear his wife’s voice outside the bathroom door but couldn’t make out what she was saying. From her tone it sounded somewhat apologetic but he was in no mood to listen to it. Exiting the bathroom thirty minutes later Dennis could see that Sarah had decided to go back to sleep so he headed downstairs for a glass of Merlot. Inflicted by Insomnia in his late teens and early twenties he spent many a night struggling to sleep. The events of this school year had caused his old ailment to return. Walking barefoot across the cool tiles of his large kitchen Dennis thought of ways to bring the worst of criminals to justice. He stopped at the sliding glass door and looked out onto his large backyard. Upward he looked out at the large, safe gated community he was blessed to live in. His life was one of privilege and luxury. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth Dennis Reynolds decided to do more with his life. He was dedicated to helping the under privileged and easily forgotten. The rewards were few yet powerful; the young lives he’d touched over his eleven years teaching in the rough and tumble community of Pine Hills were worth the sacrifice for Dennis. A great disappointment to his father he was, but the old man still loved him. A tree hugging, save the world, bleeding heart liberal he was always called by his father Frank. But Frank had a soft spot for his only son and secretly admired what he chose to do with his life. Two Tylenol PM pills were popped and another glass of Merlot was swallowed in an effort to induce slumber. By four in the morning he was back in bed only to be awakened at six by the same nightmare. The nightmare was like an alarm clock waking him up just in time to return to the battlefield labeled a classroom. Sarah was more sympathetic this time around.

“Hey are you ok Dennis.”

Dennis, still startled blurted out what she thought was nonsense.

“Why can’t they ever make it to the Ferris wheel?!”
“Dennis, what are you talking about?”
“The boys, they never make it to the Ferris wheel! They never make it. Babe, they never make it.”

Sarah hugged her husband’s head gently in her bosoms in an effort to comfort him. Her words were soft, careful.

“Dennis you know you’ve been having this nightmare for quite some time now, maybe it’s time to talk to someone about it. I wish that I could help you with this but I don’t know exactly what to do. I love you Honey and I want you to be well, understand?”

Sarah expected some resistance to the idea of Dennis seeing a therapist but she didn’t get any. Dennis readily agreed. He just wanted the pain to stop.

“Maybe you’re right honey. Maybe I need to see a professional; this stuff is tearing me apart.”

Dennis hugged his wife tighter, stood and kissed her on the forehead.

“Sweetie, thank you so much for putting up with me. I’m lucky to have such an understanding wife, I love you Sarah.”

He leaned down and gave her a dry peck on the lips. She collected it, no spark little passion. Dennis decided to see his childhood psychiatrist. He hadn’t seen him in years but at least they had a history. Being from a well to do family he, like everyone else in his family had his own mental health care professional. Dr. Paul Depot wasn’t only Dennis’ therapist, he was also a close friend to his father Frank. As Dennis grew out of adolescence into early adulthood he decided that his Doctor’s close relationship with his father gave him a conflict of interest. Dr. Depot, a man of great integrity, respectful of and responsible with his vocation, would never break doctor/ patient confidentiality. A young Dennis couldn’t get over his own paranoia and insecurities in his relationship with his sometimes overbearing father so he terminated his treatment. Now a grown man he knew that Dr Depot would be his best option for help in dealing with this painful period in his life.

The beginning of the first session was like two old friends being reunited. Their hand shake led into an embrace.

“Dennis it’s so good to see you. What’s it been thirteen years or so?”
“Yea, something like that, so how have you been Doc?”
“I’ve been well, things are good, please take a seat. Your father tells me that you’ve been teaching in Pine Hills for the past eleven years. Initially that must have been quite a culture shock. Pine Hills is a far cry from your Bay Hill roots. I commend you for choosing such a noble profession. I know you must have your share of challenges.”

Dennis spoke freely, quickly.

“Honestly Doc it can sometimes be a little overwhelming. That is why I’m here today. I have knowledge of horrible crimes committed against children. The worse part of it is the perpetrators have gone unpunished. It tears at me everyday Doc and I have the most awful nightmares. Knowing who committed these crimes and not being able to bring them to justice makes it a hundred times worse…”

Dennis led into a horrible tale about young lives lost to disguised predators. Predators disguised as parents, mentors, new friends and extended family. Young trust gained for no purpose other than to get close enough to hurt. Children, so trusting and naïve; to the predator their greenness is like fertile ground in which to dibble holes to plant seeds of pain and destruction.

Dennis finished his first session with Dr. Depot no less tormented but with a new resolve. The perpetrators, he knew who they were, where they lived and worse of all he knew they’d offend again when given the opportunity. Two more sessions were had with Dr. Depot before Dennis proclaimed himself cured to the doctor. His nightmares ceased but thoughts of the crimes were always in the forefront of his consciousness. His new resolve gave him peace in his slumber. Dreams were now of avenging the boys and punishing the wrong doers. Every night as Dennis slept a plan was beginning to take shape in his mind. The boys would be avenged and attention would be brought to this horrible situation. Dennis would be that voice for the poor and forgotten. The undesirables that society can accept being abused or even murdered. In these dreams a champion for them all was born. Mr. Reynolds’ feelings of powerlessness had escaped him infusing him with strength and courage. Unfortunately rational planning gave way to thoughts of retribution, rage and revenge, none the less, justice would be had!

Joe Robinson was a forty-two year old unemployed man whose only contribution to society was the labor he gave in prison while serving a five year sentence for his participation in an armed robbery. Joe struck a deal and testified for the State of Florida against his co-defendants. When released he moved in with his loving mother, Mary, who always thought her son’s problems to be the product of other’s behaviors and actions. She was wrong. Her son Joe was the foul man the rest of the world knew him to be. Mary was not only saddled by a needy son but also her grandson Treyvone. Treyvone was a bright, energetic little boy who dreamt of becoming a professional singer or baseball player.

He was the light of his grandmother’s life. Her daughter, Tangy fell in love with several illegal substances several years earlier. Her commitment to her vice was so great that she could no longer care for her only child. Three year old Treyvone was relieved to be living in a warm home with plenty of food and love. For three years his childhood was what fairy tales are made of… until Uncle Joe came home.

Mary was happy to have a babysitter and male role model for her grandson. It would also give Uncle Joe something to do to make himself feel useful and help him to have a smooth transition back into society. Unknown to Mary were the horrors her son experienced while incarcerated. Even in a medium security prison the weak are sought out and sodomized. Joe was a mama’s boy; the only thing he ever got off his mama’s couch to do landed him in prison. The first time wheelman got nervous and, deviated from the escape route. Joe’s wrong left and right turns landed them at an interception surrounded by police responding to the first call. When interrogated Joe’s partners and buddies since high school, Trevor and Jake, kept their mouths shut. Joe sang like a canary the moment he was asked anything. When he finally got an attorney all he had left to bargain with was Joe’s testimony against the others. Five years was what his testimony was worth. Jake and Trevor knew many people serving time in the state of Florida so getting a kite to some buddies in Joe’s prison wasn’t hard at all. He was raped daily and traded for prison currency. Now home, the prey turned predator preyed on his own blood first with verbal abuse, later fondling and eventually full on oral and anal penetration. Treyvone had already dealt with the violation of his body and soul in his early life with his mother at the hands of her junkie boyfriends. The young boy thought that he had escaped that abuse forever only to see it return in the form of family. Mary a good, hardworking Christian had one major flaw; she was blind. Blind to anything her two children ever did. Mary found liquor in her daughter’s room, her friends were to blame. Her son’s slothfulness was always someone else’s fault; his friends were all holding him down. The sign’s of abuse her grandson showed were overlooked as well. One night Joe, especially high and drunk, got impatient. He couldn’t wait until his mother was gone; he had to have it that night. Screams were heard by Mary and she rushed in to her grandson’s bedroom to witness the most horrible act she had ever seen in her life. Mary’s screams matched her grandson’s.

“Joe, what are you doing?!? Get off that boy! Lord Jesus help me.”
“Ma it ain’t what you think, we was just playing.”

Joe stood pulling up his pants and brushed by his mother as she rushed to comfort her grandson. Joe stood listening around the corner as his mother told her grandson how they were going to the police in the morning and he would never have to see Uncle Joe again. Joe stormed out of the house; mind racing. He popped his last two pills and licked the last of the resin from an empty bag that once held cocaine. Joe hung out with the bums around the convenience store panhandling and bumming cigarettes while thinking of a way out of his situation. Finally some crack was scored and shared. Joe’s mania went to the extreme, his shallow thoughts turned evil.

As the clock struck four Joe found himself, with a gas can dousing the foundation of his mother’s old wooden house. The neighborhood was quiet and the air crisp as the flame was ignited. Within minutes three homes were ablaze on Pine Street; residents fled into the streets to escape certain death. Joe’s poor mother and nephew Treyvone weren’t as fortunate. They were both asphyxiated as black smoke filled their bedrooms then the lungs of its sleeping victims. Their bodies were charred beyond recognition when they were finally discovered. Slow to respond to the poor neighborhood was the fire department giving the fire time to consume half the block. Due to lack of evidence the arson went unsolved.

Uncle Joe was a person of interest but the case wasn’t pursued vigorously. The police and fire fighters are to serve and protect; at what level they serve and protect often times depends on the class of the citizen. The wealthy get the best justice money can buy while the less fortunate receive less justice. Oh the perils of the peoples of Pine Hills. It was known in the community who was at fault but it was never told. Never told to the right ears or just never listen to when told. Dennis listened, he always did. He felt it time that his listening turned to action and he knew just what action he would take against good old Uncle Joe.

Dennis spent seasons in his youth sitting in a tree stand patiently waiting for that perfect buck. A good shot he was, taught by his father Frank. That was their bonding time. As Dennis grew into adulthood his blood lust was lost. No longer was he a hunter, seeding the fields during the off season, but he was still a great shot.

Joe lived in a rundown motel paying rent weekly with proceeds from petty crimes he committed throughout the week. Outside he stood smoking a butt he found on the ground. It was an hour past dusk and there wasn’t much stirring going on. Dennis sat high on his perch several hundred yards away. Joe was in his sights. Dennis held no nervous or anxious feeling in his heart as he slowly squeezed the trigger. The shot was loud but common sounding as if were merely a pallet falling over at one of the near by factories. Joe dropped instantly and Dennis was pleased. The entry wound was small but the exit wound was almost the size of a softball. As Dennis quickly, quietly packed up his gear and removed all evidence something came over him. He could see Joe twitching and thriving yet no one had come to his rescue. Dennis put his equipment away and rushed on the scene looking the part of the hero. As Dennis kneeled down next to his victim; the junky tenets slowly filed out of their units. He spoke quietly into Joe’s ear as he took his last breaths.

“I know what you did Joe, I know what you did. You like raping little boys and burning people up. Well you’ll meet allot more assholes like yourself when you get to hell.”

Dennis giggled and Joe gasped. Dennis looked up at the junkies gathering around him and shouted orders.

“You, get me some towels, you, call 911. Somebody get the manager!”

People scattered in all directions at Dennis’ behest. Joe was now bleeding from his mouth and eventually his head slumped over. It was done and Dennis quietly made his way to his vehicle and drove home. That night Dennis made love to his wife for the first time in three months. He also slept like a baby, no nightmares. Avenging was relieving to Dennis; the night’s events convinced him that his mission must be completed.

 

The Talkers Part 3

Ralph licked his wounds for a few days leading up to the new heist. He was now broke and back sleeping on his Aunt’s couch. He sat dreaming of the big score smoking his last butt sitting on his aunt’s back stoop. Across town Tommy and Tammy were doing their talk thing, gaining both trust and information at the same time. Barry and Billy drove around the neighborhood mapping out the quickest escape route. The team was back to work, all doing their part to make their robbery successful. Ralph just sat in wait, two days away from his new fortune.

Unfortunately for the crew Tammy and Tommy were doing a little talking outside of work. They were communicating with a forgotten foe. Barry and Billy were on to bigger things. They were no longer robbing low level drug dealers. They had graduated to jewelry stores and were considering eventually doing a bank job. Barry thought himself to be a Big Cheese. People like Terry he left in his rearview mirror. Barry thought Terry to be a punk nickel and dimmer making a little cash off the poor ham and egger junkies of the neighborhood. He gave him no thought but Terry had many thoughts about Barry and his flunky Billy. Terry wasn’t positive but he was damn sure that they were the two who robbed him years earlier. Terry’s thoughts were of revenge so he purchased conversation from the talkers. Drugs were the currency and for that they would divulge any and everything. Terry knew the location and the day it was going down. He happily anonymously shared this information with the authorities.

The small jewelry store was staked out by the police. An undercover officer buzzed the two hoods in. As the door closed behind them five plain clothes cops rushed the car Ralph was sitting in. He was taken into custody without incident. Before he could flee or fight hands were placed on him and guns drawn. Ralph gave himself up while pleading for his life.

Inside the store Barry and Billy were met with similar force. Guns were drawn on them as they were announcing their intention to rob the place. Neither had the time or opportunity to pull their weapons out and aim them. To the floor they were tackled and disarmed. Cuffed, dragged to their feet and read their rights were the big cheese and his little buddy Billy in their failed attempt to get more cheddar. Barry’s mind raced as he was led to a police cruiser parked just pass the empty getaway car. Ralph was already being transported to the police station for processing. Barry and Billy were soon to join him. The entire operation took less time than their robbery would have.

Sitting in his holding cell Barry assumed that Tommy and Tammy had rat them out. He couldn’t figure out why but he knew they had to have something to do with it. Barry held thoughts of revenge in his mind and vengeance in his heart but he had bigger problems at the moment. If the cops connected all of the robberies he could be looking at decades behind bars.

Tommy and Tammy got word of what happened from some of their junkie friends. Then they watched it on the news and the two of them were furious.

“What the hell are we going to do for money now?! We’re almost out!”

Tammy waved the wrinkled sandwich bag in front of his face. In the corner was a small amount of brown dust. By the next evening she would be getting dope sick. Tommy and especially Tammy were more concerned about their drug addictions than getting caught by the authorities. Right away Tommy came up with a plan.

“Hey, there is a concert over at Temptation. Let’s get mixed up in the moshpit and pick a few pockets. We can steal a few tips maybe even find some free junk.”

Tammy wasn’t terribly excited about the idea but she wanted to do something to keep from getting sick. She grudgingly agreed.

“Okay, I’m in. let’s get there early so we can get out before anybody notices there cash or drugs missing.”

The two agreed, got high then got ready. The night went off without a hitch and the couple scored from Terry that night. This time they had questions of their own. Tommy was especially curious about the botched robbery.

Terry was in high spirits smoking a joint listening to Cypress Hill. He offered a jovial greeting and wide smile. Tommy returned his salutations but behind his smile was great suspicion.

“What’s up guys; what y’all up to tonight?”
“Nothin’ much, just hangin’.”

“Y’all want the usual?”
“Yea.”

Terry weighted and bagged their dope. They paid him for it then took two bumps. Now lose, Tommy had to get some things off his chest.

“Hey Terry, let me ask you something man.”
“What’s up man?”
“You didn’t tell anybody about our last job did you?”
“C’mon dude. You know we don’t do that. I don’t talk to cops; I ain’t never been a rat.”

Terry put on a stern look and stared at Tommy until he averted his eyes. Being defiant would make him believable but becoming indignant and insulted turned the tables. Terry pretended to be angry, putting Tommy on the defense.

“Look dude, I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I just had to ask. No offense man; I just had to ask, we’re not trying to go to prison. We still cool?”

Terry paused and acted as if he had to take the time to calm down. Tommy extended his hand to him. Terry eventually took it and the two shook then man hugged pounding on another on the back with their fists. Tommy excused himself to use the bathroom. While he was relieving himself Tammy came up with another plan to get her drugs.

“I’m sorry Terry I don’t know where Tommy was getting all that from. I’m sorry, are we still cool?”
“Yea, we’re all still cool.”

She stood and walked over to him. On his inner thigh she placed her hand rubbing slowly up towards his manhood. She whispered in his ear.

“You ever wondered what it would be like? Me on you, you in me?”
“Yea, but what would Tommy think about all of this?”
“What Tommy don’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Right.”

Just then Tommy came out of the bathroom. Tammy casually walked back over to the couch and took her seat. Tommy sat down next to her then grabbed his beer off the coffee table in front of him. He put his arm around his best girl as Terry look on.

“Hey Tommy how would you feel about me and Tammy hanging out for a little while every now and then?”

Tommy looked stunned. He never thought Terry would disrespect him like that.

“What the fuck dude!”
“I didn’t think you would like it, see Tammy.”

Tommy’s head was spinning; he looked over at his girlfriend.

“What the hell is he talking about?!”

Tammy just looked stunned so Terry divulged it all. He had been hurt in the past by a couple of cheating girlfriends who were just with him for free drugs. So he refused to betray another man in that way. He knew she was only going to use him to get high anyway. The couple left Terry’s home arguing. Tommy shook Terry’s hand and apologized on the way out. A bond and trust was formed in Tommy’s mind for his dealer Terry. He was a stand up guy. On the way home Tammy tried to explain her actions.

“Look Baby, you know I love you. I would never sleep with anybody else.”
“What the hell was he talking about?”
“I was going to make him think he was getting some just so we could get some free dope from time to time. I would never sleep with Terry or anybody else. You’ve got believe me Baby, I love you.”

Eventually Tommy gave in and forgave her but he forbade her from ever going to Terry’s house again for anything. She readily agreed to appease her man and salvage their relationship. Tommy still thought highly of his new buddy Terry.

Weeks went by, Tommy and Tammy started to get desperate. Things were dry. Eventually Tammy put her plan into action; she stated selling her body to get money for dope. Tommy allowed it because they had to feed their addictions. He just didn’t want to see it. She did her business in open secret.

Tommy felt horrible about what they had become. He started coming up with another plan. The plan was different but not new. Jewelry store robbery, his old bread and butter, Tommy would now take on the roll of the Big Cheese. There was no need for a robbing crew. He and his girl could handle this. With just the two of them there would be more money; they could move away and set up somewhere else. He ran the idea by Tammy and she agreed. The thought of a big pay day thrilled her. Barry and Billy usually took the largest shares. They got just a few more bucks than Ralph. Now it would be theirs, all of it.

Tommy previously staked out a target. He took Tammy to see it, she was thrilled.

“It looks perfect Tommy. Have you been inside to look around yet?”
“No, I didn’t want to view the inside until you were with me.”
“So when can we see it?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Sounds great.”

You would think they were purchasing their first home as a family rather than casing a store for their next robbery.

The two of them cleaned up, transforming themselves into a couple of young yuppies. They looked in the mirror and laughed out loud at their innocent appearances. Soon they found themselves at the counter chatting up another unknowing jeweler. They obtained all of the information they were looking for then went to get some dope to celebrate. Tommy dropped Tammy off at their place then he headed over to Terry’s. The two planned to rob the jewelry store three days later and Tommy mistakenly got into a conversation with Terry about it.

“Terry you think I could go in with you and get some junk in bulk?”
“What? What are you trying to start dealing now?”

Tommy laughed.

“No, no I’m not trying to deal, I just want a lot. Me and Tammy are thinking of moving away after we do this last job.”
“Job? You guys are still robbing stores without your crew?”
“Well what do we need all those people for? We do all the talking and casing anyway. Once we have the information, the robbery is the easy part. Me and my girl, we got this. We’re going to do it in three days so I need you to have the shit. We’ll come by here and see you before we leave town. Can you do it?”
“Yea, yea, I’ve got you. I’ll have it here three days from now. Good luck man.”
“I don’t need luck Bro; I’ve got smarts.”

The two slapped hands and Tommy took off to bring Tammy home her drugs. She was overjoyed to see him, more importantly she was happy to see the heroin he was holding. They got high for the night and drifted away fantasizing about the riches that would soon be theirs.

That same night Terry had unwelcomed visitors at his door. The police were tipped off by a rival drug dealer in an effort to take over Terry’s territory. They sent in a few undercover officers to buy drugs from him over several weeks and even provided him with a new contact with cheaper prices. Terry bought narcotics from the police in bulk and then sold it back to them. They had him coming and going and he knew it as soon as they came crashing through the door. Terry would find himself doing more time than his foes Barry and Billy. He was in between a rock and a hard place. Terry needed a way out then he thought to himself.

“I might have some information that can get me out of this mess.”

When the police got him to the station he was more than willing to strike a deal for a reduced sentence. He explained to them if they were to get the district attorney to sign off on a reduced sentence he would plead guilty and happily share some information with them that would prevent a crime set to take place in three days. It was agreed upon and he sold the talkers out. It would seem the talkers had talked themselves into a corner again and every criminal in town was talking to someone. Terry got his deal and then he started to spiel. He may not have been a rat but he surely was a snitch standing on his mound of drug charges he’d pitch. Every detail he shared once again foiling a robbery.

The talkers were taken into custody and booked for attempted armed robbery. Once incarcerated neither of them would talk. They both stayed silent and let their lawyers do the talking for them. Their time was served and still they never uttered a word as their bodies adjusted to living without it’s vice. The talkers understood they offered malice with their tongues offering death not life. They would never again use their gift of gab to dash and grab instead they’d use their verbal talents for right. At last the talkers had talked themselves into living an abundant life. Eventually the talkers would buy that engagement ring and Tommy made Tammy his wife.