When We Get There

 I've got big plans ya know? I'm exasperated by folks I read about who have built the means by which they 

are able to dictate their lives. 

I've read about everything from FIRE movements to ex-patriates to people who have made six figures with an idea, some passion, and old-fashioned elbow grease. That needs to be me. 

The job will give me my early release if I give them 4 more years of service. I'll be 55 at that time. My kids will be 11 and 10 respectively. I'm so done with the rat race. While I believe I still have the juice so to speak, 

I want to direct my juice towards juice boxes, baths, and dinnertimes.  It's all I want to do along with writing. 

It's not the furthest thing out on the water, not an unreachable goal. It's not too much to ask, is it? I just have to furrow my brow and get down to brass tax. (I really sound old don't I?) 

Consistency is the common theme

I noticed from everyone I've been reading about. If there is a kryptonite, that is mine. The blog world

demands words, and words often. Seemingly, every little thing is irritating me with the 9 to 5. All the flaws of working for the man are coming to bear. The key to the freedom I seek is wanting it bad enough. 

I often wonder how the greats muster up the fire inside to drive them to where they have gone. 

Jordan wanted to         

destroy EVERYTHING. Brady (I can't believe I'm writing about the Hated One in this space.) was a 7th round draft pick who wasn't good enough. He's still proving himself to no one but himself. 

What's my burning bridge? What is my Batman story? I don't have one. I have no idea have to turn on the flamethrower. I'm guessing I will figure it out before I'm 55. Before I'm 65? 

I will share this: the other night, I was giving my Queen a lesson on how good she can be in her career and not settle for ditch digging. (There is NOTHING wrong with ANY profession as long as it's leading to your dreams and goals by the way.) 

I was telling her about stepping stones and destiny is what you make it. You can stop at the convenience store, but it doesn't have to be the end of your journey! 

She turned around and gave me my own medicine; she told me that she has never heard or seen an imagination like mine. She told me that I should have had several books completed by now, which I true. (We have been together for 10 plus years.) 

I just need to take the required two hours a day to write something, ANYTHING. The more I get irritated the more I realize she's right. Freedom isn't given, freedom is earned.

photo courtesy Simon Hurry

Chay 2021

Walking With Wolves at the End of Time

 So I had this dream where I was goofing off at my house (the dreamscape remember) with of all people, Peyton Manning. We were tossing the football about and I tossed it outside. It was cold and dark and I had to go get it, where I suddenly ran into...wolves. A Pack of coal-black wolves surrounded me and in the dream, I was naturally afraid. (Who wouldn't be, right?) the four approached from the right, while the one on my left eased in...nipping ever so closer...causing me to take my eyes off the splintered, ever-closing four. And then suddenly, I lie awake. I fancy myself as somewhat of a reader of the tea leaves if you will, a dreamancer if you fancy. I can tell a person what their dreams mean, including my own in most cases. Sometimes, it takes days at a time to decipher, but this time I immediately knew what it meant: The wolves represented time. They were timewolves. Predators that fed on time. They were telling me that I should avoid them at all costs. Time is that underrated, invaluable resource that we treat as if we have an endless well of but only THE LORD HIMSELF knows the GOD clock on each of us. It's our Chart of Fate, our finite spins around the sun that we can accelerate or decelerate if we choose or choose not to ignore. GOD always ALWAYS gives us a warning sign before the clock strikes, for a great deal of us. Some of us, a great deal of us live on borrowed time, at the hands of chance at the whim of fate. But if GOD speaks, no screams at you, you best listen. (Shout out to Michael K. Williams, another great one gone too soon. No more hands of sand, but everlasting in our hearts and minds for sure. Rest well, King Thespian. Your art will live on forever.) I'm listening. Loud and clear. GOD again spoke today and let me get pissed off at my job. It's not the incompetency of the company by any means, It's my own ineptitude and blissful ignorance of time that matters. I heard both messages and I am nOT awaiting a third, for when GOD speaks in threes, things tend to end or begin and know HE is tired of speaking to HIS child. So I'm writing and working, working and writing with purpose. I started grinding at the job and will go deep in from now on so that the momentum will carry over to the writing. And I will be a careful stuart of the grains that remain. The dream even helped to produce this: A writing idea. Keep posted to this forum for more details. And as always, thank you for reading and remember: Time is finite...and the clock, ever it ticks until it ticks no more.

Chay 2021

Thought

 Thought

I’ve got you in my mind’s eye

Your smell is a senses killer

I could just die for one moment

Frozen in time

Like the time when I first saw you

Thawed the deeply buried cold heart

Opened up the hope in love

Renewal sun totally the one

I’ll ask but first I need to see

The rabbit hole that leads to your soul

The gates of penance behind thine eyes

Answered all the questions before i could ask

Watered the arid flowers that are my whys

The skys to stars whats mine became ours

And time tripped to cycles of spring and winter anew

Who knew the witches brew that love become the lifelong

Ustrong stew

Just a thought within which I got lost

Your anti-frost melt sweet sundew

Untwo unto one love kindles correction

A direction protection familial a millennial few

Rebirth reborn the earth the storm cloud fade

A life or two remade the be better repaid forgiveness

From heavenly a new dawn a new day a respawn

A new legacy...maybe THE LORD the good LORD

Was just testing me...not at all HE was just blessing me

Chay2021

Afraid

 I just wouldn't do it. I didn't believe in it. There's no way that's happening. I'm speaking on vaccination. Yeah, so people were dying around the country. At the job, it seemed that we had (have) a new outbreak every week. The world is seemingly over being cooped up in quarantine. I just saw 120,000 people packed like sardines in a stadium with the return of football last weekend. But before then I just wasn't having it. I come from a people that have been used to test the limits of all kinds of horrors so I was good with not being the next crash test dummy. My wife and my in-laws were on one side of the fence having received theirs. I couldn't fathom CVS or Publix shooting me up with that madness. Johnson&Johnsons one-shot solution wasn't a solution in my eyes with people having heart issues and whatnot.  No way in the blue hell was I going to get that shit in me. Not happening. My side of the family was like me. They not putting that in their arms. My Moms and Aunt mid-seventies so I understood their why. My brother beat cancer, so I could fathom his reasoning. My wife, she was begging me to get it. And then her Moms was on me to get it. Why were they on me suddenly? Because of my girls. My three beautiful daughters. Within about 2 weeks, the younger two seemed to get more than the usual bumps and bruises and who did they call out to? "Dada!!!!" I just kept hearing that term of endearment. They didn't go to Gramma. They didn't even seek out Mommy. When the most pain came and they were in need, they called out their Daddy. So I have some thinking to do. Let logic reign, I needed to ask the new family nurse my sister. "Should I get the vaccine?" My sister, bless her, didn't and wouldn't and couldn't sign off on it. Therefore, the next was my General Practice's PA. As a physician's assistant, I felt pretty secure in her assessment. Why was she so vague in her answer? Perhaps because I was specific to how the vaccine might affect an asthmatic. I've had my share of sinus and breathing issues over the last decade. I laugh about it because I was amazing enough to help produce my two little lights from the waist down, but still breathing had been a chore. My PA had still been quite instrumental in helping me breathe to the point where I don't use my inhalers even though I have several around including in the truck. 

With my two sources I trusted most not really helping with clarity, I even sought the opinion of my employer. What I found was that the company line was "get vaxxed" while the workforce was quite the opposite. No one of my kind was considering getting the vaccine, so that left me back at square one. I had to work it within and lock onto THE GOD in me. Not the 'we all gods' theory from my northern brothers, no THE CHRIST in me. Thus armed with the knowledge that I worked in a hot zone, my babies needed their superhero and that THE LORD GOD has always backed my play, I made a decision: I would get the vaccine. So I did it, round 1 just past my birthday. Here I am 51 and scared like a little kid. It took two seconds to get those and I had to wait 15 minutes to make certain there was no allergic reaction. Longest 15 minutes of my life! What if I start spazzing on the floor? What if it triggers my breathing issues? I was super nervous. The 15 elapses and I sent a text to my Mother-in-law and my wife. "Thank GOD" my other moms said. My wife was relieved as well. 

28 Days Later

28 Days went quick and in the meanwhile at the job, we had lost someone near and dear to a lot of people. It was sad. I don't know what more my company could have said but it bothered me that we didn't send everyone home and do a super cleanse and come back in two weeks. They cleaned his floor and I would learn that different floors had different rules. My floor requires, mandates even, that we wear masks away from the desk, while other floors don't. The company is all over the place, but the machine rolls on. It made me glad for my decision. While I'm not reckless with when or how I mask up, (always everywhere even after, ever after for real.) I can't count on others to decide my fate. I read an SI article where the writer said getting the vaccine is a responsibility, I disagree. It's a personal choice. What IS a responsibility is that one wears a damn mask, with or without the vax. I won't argue the point. This whole writing is just my thought. If you not masking up, stay over there, please. I'm good. I was nervous to even tell the receptionist for fear of my reaction to her reaction. I remember way before I got vaxxed, her saying out loud how she's never getting it. It was something I agreed with at the time but not for public consumption. She checked me in and was appreciative when I specified why I was there. I got round 2. I was waiting in the lobby and the prerequisite 15 minutes passed with nary an issue. My nerves were not this time. I smartly pushed off my workday to the back half. The shift came and went. Nothing. I sat with my wife in bed, she asked me how I felt. "Pretty damn good!" "It's not midnight yet." she said. Little did I know how prophetic the Queen's words would be.

The Night the Sideffects Kicked In

I'll be damned if I started feeling a bit fatigued. I lie there and it got all dramatic within a matter of half an hour. A stormfront had settled in as indicated by the flashes of lightning penetrating the blinds. Then I started heating up. Me and my brothers usually refer to 'heating up' as 3 straight pass completions or a ballplayer's own 6-0 run. I think it came from the old video game that would say the same. When you couldn't be stopped, the game would yell "He's ON FIRE!!" and that's what was going on with my body! I got up and took my temp: 101. I got back in the bed and began to shiver like I've never. I was holding on to the Queen's back and the blanket for dear life. The ride had begun. She made me take two Tylenol and I clung to her until she couldn't take the firestorm I was producing on her back. So I went to my side and shivered and rode the wave of my body defending against that which I had been against. I watched the blinds as the lightning strikes came and went while wondering if I could get through this. I went to the Source and started praying to GOD. "I plead THE Blood of JESUS over me!" "Cover me with the Blood of THE LAMB!" I yelled silently. While I might be a foul-mouthed heathen, in my daytime alter ego, I know where my bread is buttered! I went to work and had church on my side of the bed! When I was done, so was my shivering. I counted the seconds between the lightning flashes. Each time it was fewer and fewer. Then the storm was gone and nothing remained except the morn.

I had survived the night as my body and my faith kept me. That was Tuesday. Today is Saturday and I didn't really feel like myself until yesterday night. To sum up, I had to make my own decision in concert with GOD. I know HE would've steered me in another direction if HE didn't want me to move the way I did. For you? That's your own decision. Take a thorough look at the science but you may not end up with clarity. I don't think anyone really could tell me why I should've or should not have. Ultimately, I made the best decision for me. 

Chay 2021

What I've Seen 01

                                                                                                                

 What I've Seen 01

Things I’ve Seen 06 12 21

So this is me making sure I'm keeping the blog

hot and continuing the writing engine

churning, producing something. Every Saturday

this is due so here goes.

It will be about me consuming mainly, what I’ve

seen on TV, read about, or done.

Therein lies some of the problem, Yes? Writers,

influencers, vloggers, bloggers, and the

like need to be putting out more content than consuming.

That’s how you build an audience,

a following, and besides, isn’t that the goal of any artist?

Is that what I am?

An artist? I am actually but it’s not you I have to convince,

I have to start producing like

I'm an artist and get off the boat of dreamers,

bring the imagination bag into the

land of the doers, ya know? So this is me doing.

Driving. Grinding producing.

The goal is every day giving unto myself

my craft by giving unto you,

the burgeoning audience.

Here we go.

Migos- So the Migos have a new album right?

(Culture III) I like it!

It takes like seven songs in

but im there! Should I be there?

Absolutely not! I’m consuming again not producing

but it’s a solid assist while I hit this ink ya know?

Them Lawrenceville boys took a minute to heat up

on this one but they got it.

That ‘Why Not?” tho! omggggg 

NBA Playoffs- My weakness: Sports.

My Gramma said some profound shit

way back in the day:

the successful person doesn’t get caught up in sports.

It’s like the gateway drug of escape right?

I mean I don’t do anything bad or illegal,

except that its a crime to blow the time

I have on the escape.

I say this for me and myself only,

take it for what you will but there is a book

that talks about going deep in on

whatever you are trying to learn so it can be ingrained in you.

Malcolm Gladwell says it takes

10 years to be an expert on something right?

So, it was with great pain I had to tell my crew

that I am consuming too much and need to be producing!

Real talk, it's simple math:

you are what you spend time on, at least for me.

If I’m not writing, I need to be reading or editing,

especially when that pigskin season come.

But the NFL owe me too right?

I don’t have a stake in the Colts or Pacers or any other team.

I do have stock and stake in these girls

and a beautiful grandson, ya dig?

It's going to take committing to what I’m chasing.

That shit can’t be part-time or a hustle anymore.

It’s time to make the Main thing the Main thing.

All that said, the Point God is eating they ass….

and he bout to opt OUT on a 47million dollar deal!

As Richard Fliehr would say ‘WHOOOOOOOOOO!’

The Boys-

So when I wash dishes at night and

everyone is in the bed,

I watch my Amazon Prime.

I finished season 2 of ‘Hanna’. Excellent!

You know I’m into the whole

Government produces super-beings.

It’s a huge part of my writing. Great storyline!

So the next thing I’m trying to get at is

‘The Boys’ based of course on the legendary comic book.

The first thing to do was to shake my TV show sidekick.

My wife is on a whole different schedule

than me! Lol. So I’ve finished season one solo

and started 2 on my own as well.

I like it. It was well written and gory af!

Enjoyable action.

I need to catch up to the Marvel series on Disney.

Health-I have a LOT going on in my house!

My daughter and now me.

I’m finally seeing about my own

10-year issue with an Esophageal Stricture.

Hopefully, this upcoming

Wednesday we can cross the street

and improve my ability to swallow.

Honestly, it’s been a clusterfuck for sure.

Taking small pills has become a chore.

I’m finally doing something about it. 

Word Blitz- I’m getting my HEAD kicked in!

That clock is a bitch! 

Everything else is good.

I appreciate you whether or not you read this.

I’m just trying to jumpstart this writing cause

I think I have some good things to share that

I get excited about. Come with me.

I’m going to introduce you to some interesting characters

and their adventures. 

Leave your thoughts if you wish.

I welcome and read it all good or bad.

Leave your email address so you can get on the preferred list

with previews, extras, and goodies galore. 

Catching up to:

Godfather in Harlem

Any and all movies from the last three years

Snowfall

Can’t WAIT until July for Animal Kingdom on TNT!

(it’s not Wild Kingdom, you missing out!!)

What I’m reading

Didn’t realize he passed last year. :( 

I’ll be digging into his stuff for the next few months.

It’s just a reminder to get producing or pass thinking

about what might have been for real

As always, 

THANK YOU for being you.

Sincerely and until the next go,

Chay

What's Left of Me

 

What’s Left of Me

Yeah I got something left

Something more than the last of my breath

Yep that’s me you hear weezin’

Sounds pleasin’ to you doesn’t it?

A dozen or so moments ago you thought me my last

But I’m GOD’s HIS is the will and I was built

To bend severely to HIS will

That means I’m damn hard to kill

Will I see another dawn?

Well that’s a song for a few more hours than I might have

I owe ya know?

What Ive sown I reap that which I owe and now gone

But go on I have and I am

That which I am

And ill be damned if I’m gone stop now

Ain’t no way ain’t no how

Not one for fear, not one to kowtow

Not known to bow to that which lies beneath furrowed brow

And somehow yet here we stand

Man to man reflection can

Tell nothing but truth you see…

I am what I am

Chay ‘21

image courtesy dreamstime.com

At The End of The Tunnel

 

Step into the light the white bright

That might signal that which is thine end

(By thine own hand?) Command you would

If you weren't prostrate

(No not Prostate although you need to get your ass up)

In a state of that place right flat on your face

The rain doesn't care that you lie down there 

In the somewhere 

The dark would welcome you today 

Plenty of places for which you can lay

and let die

Sobs go unheard echoed in silence for miles

Distanced from your smiles the whys

and answers as empty as your crys

All that pain.....? its just steps forward

Toward your peace but it cant happen if you cease

To be

Open your eyes so that you might see

Although you've fallen and dirty

You're just as worthy as anyone else

And sooner than you think 

Your date with destiny coincides

with the reunion of you and

the Sun.

Lovelight and happiness

as you become one

chay 2020

 The Song I Sing (Amongst the Starfall From Grace)

And they fell amongst the shards of stars as did I but

I did not die did I?

I'd fly but for the fourscore and scorch

Upon feathered tethered to the ground 

The frowned upon a once a time

Damaged maybe even imagined wing

So sayeth the song I sing

chay 2020

I'm Never Going Back

 I'm Never Going Back

I go right not left

I go North fuck South

I go naught back from whence I came

For thein lies the waste of thought

Of what was and what was wrought

I ought not burn any more currency

On that which is not currently

I am not that which I was anymore

The future say what I cannot yet hear

Yet any fear is burned in effigy 

Of what might’ve been the ‘Old’ me

While yet i am the Oldman

Ill take my chances with the deck reshuffled

With the cards in my new hand

And thus what I was aint what I am

Every moment forward I am 

A new man

Chay 2020

Sardines and Soundgarden

 So...Hi.

It's your favorite writer again. I've got a few things up my sleeve for this forum. Hopefully, you like them. I have an Episodic Series in the works. Meanwhile, I intend to fill the space with different things. Some will be mundane, some will be emotional (forgive me). Some will be rants and raving. Others will be future projects. Still, others will be the adventures of annoyance (personal). All of it is my version of reality TV. Poems, pisstivity, anger, and depths of love mixed with levels of me guaranteed to get on your damn nerves. Hopefully, it's enough to entertain and keep you in want for more of the good that comes of it. Tonight, in particular, I posted on my IG and my Facebook about me voting today. It was therapeutic and cathartically helped me dispel the heinous bullshit from my job. So it was definitely worth it besides the obvious importance to motivate and encourage others to use their one true power: voting. I'm not going to get into the politics of it. This is just about how today went and where I am with the writing. I needed some music and "settled" upon Cornell. If you hang around me long enough you'll hear me speak on music and its effects on everything and also how Chris Cornell helped me through a divorce. He also was the soundtrack for its trainwreck that followed and its subsequent phoenix-ing and new, much brighter days. So its Soundgarden and Sardines. Its sardines because I'm trying to eat better and the smaller the fish the less the mercury. (Although I'll probably only eat fish twice a week regardless.) This is my effort to begin the trek to the 125 years I often pray for. I'm 50 and honestly, the number hangs over me like the fucking death sentence that it really isn't. I'm working through it. I'm praying more even though my tongue is as violent as ever. (forgive me) One of the techniques I've come up with is to let the past be exactly what it is. I have turned into a Cornerback. Sure I get burned, but I let it sit in the back of the Nevermind. There, it doesn't get a tag or label. it gets a Hefty and I move the fuck on. So while looking up this and that (you know, "research" lol) I put on some Cornell, Soundgarden to be exact, the first album Ultramega OK, which is me right about now. I'm about to finish this 'Black Widow' comic and this album and head into tomorrow faithful that I'll give you more content to chew on and that I can survive the day. (is it always as dire as we make it?) I love you. keep reading. Keep hanging in there with me as I introduce you to new people, new characters on the journey with Episodic Fiction, the soon to be complete short story Le Doux Noir and maybe a poem or two. Let me know how you like what I put out and what tickles your fancy or makes you want to hate me even more. I love you and its Thursday in the ever-odd month of October.

Until we meet again,

Chay

Sadness At End

Sadness At End

Did it ever occur to you that

When you called my name with your eyes

That day so long ago I would be forever smitten?

Written in the Book of Love told tales of glory and bliss

That your miss would be reshaped to mrs. ?

The previous swings and flings and misses never stood a chance

At the romance your mischievous glance

Gave forth to where i would catch and ride a glimpse

And have put to rest, at last, the end of my bad choices

The madness of my sins

Chay 2020

Le Doux Noir- Preview

Le Doux Noir- Preview

Felix was home again after a long day at what he does.

He came into the home, jagged key turning tumbler, freeing the waiting lock dutiful in

protecting the much of nothing that was this place.
He took off his well-worn boots, still useful in protecting the fragile pseudo-fingers they call
toes (were they a combination of hybrid thumbs and digits?). He placed them in the corner,
tossing them in perfect alignment. He left the entryway light off, even though his instinct yelled at him
to inspect the place. He sat on the lone loveseat, a deep sigh exhaling the rough contents of
the day. Closing his eyes, and drawing in the familiarity, he let his clasped hands accept his
head. The same head that would probably do better on a pillow. This wasn’t his normal wind
down but today had been a hell of a day. He let his mind swirl, wondering where he had
slipped, what he did wrong. It was good for him to analyze the good, the bad, and the middle
ground to see where he could improve. He needed to always attack what he couldn’t foresee,
what could trip him up and give him over to Hell sooner than he wanted or anticipated.
Besides, betterment would mean more money, more coin, which was his main motivation.
Wasn’t it everyone's? Anything else was pointless. What was the world if not run by
commerce? His prize catch was fucking up his opportunity to cash in. She had been like all
the rest: Overconfident and blissfully ignorant of what the world was really like, at least for
those on the other side. For the normals, those who somehow were oblivious that Death
lived right over everyone’s shoulder in an instant, the world was a combination of sunshine,
Ipods, Tweets and lollipop lattes on the way to instant success and pop musician hero boy
toys and social mediaphite worship. For the real world, at least according to those like Felix,
the world was a wet, dank, horrible freakshow of survivalists, capitalists, conmen and
conwomen climbing over one the other for a piece of a ticket to a paradise that took a 60
plus year death sentence at some cubicle to enjoy. Those who wanted to escape the
life jail lived outside and sometimes above or between the law to get what they wanted
sometimes and what they needed if they were lucky. Felix believed in making his own luck.
And money ruled over morality. Oh, there were limits; no kids. If he had to push down an
old lady or club an elderly or sickly man over the head, so be it. But no kids. Well,
what if you fucked up a kid’s household? Well, that was in the rulebook as okay.
Dog eat dog and the lot of the luck. Maybe the kid would grow up with a grudge
and save his city, fleshing out evildoers everywhere on some reckless crusade for justice
for one and all. But, Felix was about doing what was necessary to get the coin.
He remembers the hunt like he was still there twelve long hours ago. How long had she
fought back? She had way more spirit than most he thought. He rummaged through her purse,
annoyed at the mass of cosmetic mess at the bottom. Clearly, the well-worn accessory was
her favorite. Tonight was a special night: She was meeting her girlfriends to celebrate leaving
the bastard of a boyfriend she had dated for two and a half years. Felix watched the whole
scene, even ordering some side dish made of overcooked asparagus, with tough escargot
covered with an almost unbearably, salty gravy. He gulped it down chasing it with a water
forgoing his usual glass of vino. No time for alcohol, as he watched the girl have her share,
more than it looked like she was used to. She and her friends set the dance floor ablaze with
rapturous joy, with nary a care in the world, clearly unaware of just who was keenly watching
every rhythmic twist, every gyration, every little step she made. And spins became blurs,
her turns into slips, every whoa from the crowd turned into whoas from her friends.
She was quite the accomplished, beautiful dancer. Given time and more training, her wildcat
could be tamed into something for figure-skating gold or a true artist of dance.
Instead, Felix planned on making her become rent, become supplies, become toiletries,
all in the name of his benefactor: The International. The International paid well for bodies,
teen to mid-twenty-year-old females, slave labor etc. If you see someone on a poster,
there are several reasons why they might never come back. The International is the reason
if its a young lady or someone they can use to work. After the cold war, jobs began to dry up.
Then, people with Felix’s skillset were offered jobs. The job was to find people,

‘cull and thin the herd’, was how they explained it and man, did they pay in spades.

Felix never got paid like this for the old work. The old work was 10 times the hassle and
potential for never coming back.
This job was simply ‘catch and release’: get paid half upfront, catch and qualify, get paid the
the remaining half, become reliable and get bonuses. So, he leaned over the rail, watching
waiting, fending off drunken overtures, keen on his prey. There was an art to all of it, and he
had become its master. Her girls called a taxi and they all dropped off one by one.
Felix followed until the girl was next to last at her stop. Had they all been smart they would have
seen one the other up and in, safe and sound. Alcohol dulled the senses, including the
common ones. So here she was, alone in front of the yellow light that shone all over her.
She made the attempt to get the key where it should have gone, dropping it.
How many times had she come home shit-faced and done the same thing only to lapse
into a drunken induced sleep that she would work off with aspirin, eggs, and a Bloody Mary
to boot? Felix thought correctly that if sober she would have known better and had an
earpiece on, talking to one of her girlfriends for alert, quick, sharp rapid movement to slip
in almost one singular motion saving time, space and boosting safety. No, not this night.
So, the girl smiled, almost wanting to laugh. She had to pee so she quickened her efforts to
get inside. By that time Felix was right behind her as she opened the door, pushing her
forward with enough force causing her to fall in the heels that she really didn't wear on a
regular and therefore drunken stooper and untrained ankle worked together toward her
demise. Felix slipped the door shut almost silently, then felt a sharp pain over his left temple
and eye. Skin pierced and blood came leaking over the eye he’d just managed to turn and
protect, hand helping. He felt her young fragile foot against his left kidney.
Not a bad kick, he thought for no particular reason other than if he were training a woman.
He filed it, like how he did with other useless bits of information that might be retrieved
for re-use toward the coin or survival of some sort. The better move would have been to
run immediately and try to call for help. At least she knew her house, he thought.
Much like he did, as he knew he wouldn’t have to search his place like he did after returning
every evening. But he was too tired as he wanted to just rest for a moment or two to process
what the hell had just happened and how a drunken kid almost ended the evening in the worst
possible way. 

He wanted clarity, so before he made his cola and whiskey, he looked at the lines in the ceiling,
searching the run of cracks, looking at the old water stains, thinking he should move.
This was the perfect place for what he did, so he dismissed the thought. Lay low, collect,
continue. Buy a place by the water in Mexico. Call it a life. Maybe in 3-4 years if he was on top
of his shit, maybe not. If he kept slipping like tonight, it would end in a half a year at best.
How the hell did the girl give him such a fight when she was drunken? Liquid courage?
Maybe she was just a fighter like that? Felix couldn’t possibly know and it didn’t matter.
He knew that if he wasn’t so soft on her, he could’ve ended it after the ceramic exploded on
his temple. He had done a terrific job of deflecting the blow and although it had caused his
own fall, he quickly rose to one knee and grabbed her ankle. The girl’s next mistake was
thinking she could take on the bigger assailant. She had no clue as to what the intruder’s
intent was, nor how many there were. The best move was to run, but for the liquid courage.
These were the thoughts of a man, who actually felt sorry for his victim. This was a major
mistake, one that could have gotten him killed. In this line of work, or anything similar, one
doesn’t just assume the weakness without also accounting for the potential strength,
especially when playing the game on the opponent's home turf. What if she had a boyfriend?
What if her estranged husband had spent the night? What if she was a trained ex-superspy
of the infamous Red Brigade? He didn’t really do but a rudimentary check of any of them.
He was just told, young and able,
the prettier the better. The more the merrier, the money increase including the bonuses.
The closer he would be to landing in a villa in Mexico, or the Florida Keys, somewhere nice and
warm where he could forget what he had done to get there.  He promised he would be more
thorough, but man, the quicker he could pull a fish, the quicker he could leave the nets behind.
His thoughts went back to how he grabbed the ankle and used his left hand to push her to the
floor. The girl must have been thinking rape, because she then fought for all her worth, kicking
at Felix, managing to get his right eye with her left foot still heel-covered. Still, the girl did NOT
run! She cursed him and gave Felix a follow up karate-like move to his throat with her index and
middle fingers. The nails were hard enough to cause a cut to his larynx with the effect of a punch.
If he wasn’t fucking around at Mercy U, he would have normally punched her thigh already,
numbing the leg, rendering it useless and making her a one-legged easy victim. Instead,
he had to fight the urge to put both of his hands on his esophagus, trying to desperately get a
breath. To the contrary, he lowered his head, let go of what for most would have been panic
and caught the executed next move. The girl had been trained, probably a self-defense
class or two, to do the move and take advantage of the moment of someone trying to
catch the ability to breathe. This would’ve worked on someone who was on the other side,
you know, just your run-of-the-mill stalker/rapist/killer. Nope. Felix was none of these;
catch and release. So, the veteran kidnapper had seen a great deal and learned even more.
As the girl tried to swing at him, Felix instead caught her whole body, picked her up and did
the 50-yard dash into her mantle outside of her kitchen. He then, followed up with another
tackle, this time against her refrigerator to totally take the wind out of her sails and
just before she crumpled her gave her a right cross that finished the fight for sure.
He leaned over her sink, letting the stainless steel cool against the war of pain and
breath catching. She was STILL stirring, when he pulled out the chloroform,
pouring it on the cloth and covering her still resistant
body. He sat behind her wrapping his legs around her waist, holding the cloth tight against
her mouth. Still she twitched in violence, seemingly still not giving in until literally, her last
breath was the darkness. He lay with her in the same position for a few minutes like a lioness
or a wolf holding the muzzle of a buffalo, just to make certain it was all over. He relaxed on
the couch, the sound of plastic still fresh as he wrapped her like a mummy in cellophane and
delivered her to the drop. Just another day, just another young dame, just another dollar but
man did this one cost. One sharper move from this simple civilian might have cost him more.
He got up and made his drink, leaving it on the counter so the ice could settle with the alcohol
and cola a bit. He retreated to the bathroom to ice his sore external throat, looking in the
mirror to examine the damage. He rubbed it realizing that he was lucky the girl didn't perform
an instant tracheotomy on his adam’s apple. He turned the attention to his head wound. The
girl was NOT playing games and he respected her for the fight, cursing himself being so
careless. So much so, he hurried back to the kitchen after cleaning and bandaging the head
wound. He drank down the drink with haste, poured and drank one more before deciding a
final front door check of the deadbolts and the windows. Drawing his thick drapes closed,
he caught a glimpse of the beautiful city lights causing his head to spin. He stumbled to bed
falling forward to the awaiting darkness with little care of anything but the eternal bliss of night.

End of Chapter One