All the foremen hated the Chinese.

All except for Charlie.

Charlie didn't care about them one way or the other, they were just labour. If a Chinaman died laying track you replaced him, if he lived, you worked him harder tomorrow. That was just the way it was, you did your job. Emotion didn't enter into it any more than it entered into any part of Charlie's life since his wife died.

So when the Chinaman came to him, palms raw and bleeding from laying track with his bare hands, and asked for a pair of gloves, Charlie didn't get angry and beat the crap out of him like the other foremen would have done. Instead he peered at him intently, trying to read him.

The Chinaman had asked politely, "May I have a pair of gloves please ?" and that was okay, but the way he'd looked directly into Charlie's eyes, head held high, not looking down at his feet, not deferring to him, that bugged him a little. And there was the fact that he'd asked in the first place. None of the Chinamen ever asked the foremen for anything, preferring to stay as far away from them as possible. But not this one. He'd walked up, looked Charlie in the eyes, and asked. Had he known Charlie wouldn't hit him or had he risked being beaten ? Charlie didn't know and that bugged him too.

Charlie's initial reaction was to say no, after all, you didn't lend work gloves to a Chinaman. At best the other foremen would shun him, at worst he'd get fired. Not that he actually cared what the other foremen thought but he had to work with them and they were sometimes good for a free drink on a Saturday night. More importantly, he needed the job.

On the other hand the Chinaman had gotten to him, something few people had done since Emily died and Charlie started his slow but steady decline into the land of "I don't give a damn."

So he'd sent the Chinaman away, saying he'd think about it

And think about it he did.

All that day.

All that night, when he couldn't sleep because he kept seeing the Chinaman's ruined hands in his head.

All the next day, when he couldn't help but watch the Chinaman's hands as he worked.

Raw, bleeding.

And the Chinaman never complained, he just worked and waited.

What the hell was going on ? Had the Chinaman jinxed him, woven a magic spell and gotten inside his head ?

Once again Charlie didn't know, and once again it bugged him.

Posted by OldGuy at 8:06 PM | Comments (4)

A Haiku

The train moves too fast
His fevered brain trapped inside
The young man derails

Posted by OldGuy at 12:29 PM | Comments (2)

July 30, 2007

Tea With Tina

If you have tea with Tina
Be sure to arrive right on time
Because Tina serves tea promptly at four
And she considers tardiness a terrible crime

If you have tea with Tina
Be prepared to stay for a while
Because Tina serves every kind of tea
From Orange Pekoe to sleepy Camomile

If you have tea with Tina
Be sure to wear a top hat and tails
Because Tina is always dressed to the nines
Having studied fashion with the Princess of Wales

If you have tea with Tina
Brush up on the very latest news
Because Tina is always well informed
And she can discuss any topic you choose

If you have tea with Tina
Do not expect greasy manwiches
Because Tina only serves petits fours
And dainty little cucumber sandwiches

If you have tea with Tina
Be sure to say please and thank you
Or Tina will think you're very rude
And you were obviously raised in a zoo

Posted by OldGuy at 4:05 PM | Comments (3)

July 20, 2007

Summer Love

The setting sun of pink and gold
Is reflected in your eyes
Telling me our story's told
And it's time for last goodbyes

I was just a boy the night we met
You were a woman in full bloom
You showed me things I'll never forget
Enchanting me with your sweet perfume

The wistful smile upon your face
So unlike your loving gaze
Tells me I must leave this place
For it's time we parted ways

I remember well the gentle rain
And your touch more gentle still
The night we sipped sweet champagne
And drank of love till we had our fill

The days are getting shorter now
And summer eves are often cool
I'll shed a tear and take a bow
And go back to playing the fool

I'll think of you when nights are warm
And the softly blowing breeze
Reminds me of the time we rode the storm
Beneath the gently swaying trees

Posted by OldGuy at 9:59 PM

June 27, 2007

The Magic Words

The boy was seven years old when his father taught him the magic words.

He was in the driveway trying to fix the chain on his bike when his father came home from work. He started to move his bike but his father waved him off and parked in the street. His father got out of the car and was about to say hi when he noticed the look of frustration on his son's face and his son's black, greasy fingers and t-shirt.

"Better not let your mom see you" said his father.

"Yeah, I know dad, she'll kill me", the boy replied

His father asked him if he needed help and the boy replied that he did. The chain on his bike had broken and he couldn't fix it.

"It looked so easy dad" said the boy.

"Let me see it son" replied his father.

His dad looked at the chain and saw that it was indeed broken. He told the boy he was going inside to get some tools and he'd be right back.

His father went inside and rummaged in his toolbox, returning a few minutes later. He fixed the chain then tried to put it back on the bike. He worked at it for a few minutes but every time he thought he had it on it slipped off the back sprocket.

And that was when he told his son he needed to use the magic words.

"Magic words? " replied his son, wide-eyed."You know magic dad ?"

"Yes son", replied his father. "But the words I'm about too teach you are not only very powerful, they're very special, and there are some very important rules about using them. You can only say them when you really need them. You must never teach them to your friends. And finally, you must never tell your mom about them."

"You mean they're father/son magic words dad ?" his son asked him.

"Yes, they're father/son magic words" said his father.

Lifting the chain into place his father said "Come on you son of a bitch."

The chain slipped smoothly into place and the boy looked at his father, awestruck.

"They worked dad, the magic words worked" cried his son. "But dad, those were swear words weren't they ?" asked his son.

The man told his son that although the magic words were indeed swear words, it was okay to use them as long as he always followed the rules surrounding their use.

For the next several years the boy followed the rules faithfully, only uttering the magic words when he really needed them and never telling anyone about them. And when he became old enough that he no longer believed in magic he still only uttered the words when he needed them, and then, only when he was alone.

Now, sitting at his father's bedside, looking at all the tubes coming out of him and the machines surrounding him, the man who was once a little boy uttered the magic words. They didn't work of course. His father was much too ill.

But he remembered.

And several days later, when he came home from work and found his son standing in the driveway, a look of frustration on his face as the boy tried to fix his bike, he taught him the magic words.

Posted by OldGuy at 8:06 PM | Comments (10)

June 18, 2007

Through The Eyes Of A Child

I found an old box in the garage
Just cardboard taking up space
So I looked through the eyes of a child and saw
A shining spaceship filled with colonists headed for Mars

I looked outside and saw it was dark
Just lack of sunlight, nothing more
So I looked through the eyes of a child and saw
Monsters roaming the streets looking for children to eat

I found an old broom in the closet
Handle scarred, bristles bent and broken
So I looked through the eyes of a child and saw
A sword so old and mighty as to make dragons quake

The doctor said I needed a needle for the flu
Just a little thing that I would barely feel
So I looked through the eyes of a child and saw
A needle as big as a spike ready to pierce my arm

I found an old recipe book in a drawer
Cover battered, pages bent and worn
So I looked through the eyes of a child and saw
A sorcerer's book of charms and spells and magic potions

I found an old coat in a box under the bed
Its brown colour had faded to beige
So I looked through the eyes of a child and saw
An old and battered duster like those worn by desperados

Posted by OldGuy at 1:39 PM | Comments (3)

June 15, 2007

Lumbago, The Beginning; Part 4, A New Job

It was the chief. He and Jarl were meeting and wanted to see him right away. Lumbago protested that it was his day off but the chief cut him off, saying they had a top secret assignment they needed to discuss with him.

Lumbago put on his best suit, a three piece white Armani job. A black shirt, Cuban heels, St. Christopher's medal, and his police-issue .38 completed the ensemble. The suit had cost a bundle but it was worth it. And it wasn't like the dealer he'd stolen the money from was going to report it. He briefly considered sending flowers to the hospital then decided it would be adding insult to injury.

In the hall he grabbed his hat, the one with the large flashing red light on top, and put it on his head. He walked out and climbed aboard his new candy-apple red three-wheeler. It had long front forks, allowing him to stretch his legs out, and sported flaming orange stripes and chrome-plated custom-built mag wheels. He made loud revving noises and peeled away from the curb at a blistering 10 mph. He looked like a crazed John Travolta.

Traffic was crazy on the freeway so he cut through the park. It was a beautiful day and mothers were out with their babies, pushing carriages with gurgling infants nestled inside. Lumbago loved babies so would've stopped to chat but he was in a hurry so he blew right past them, leaving several toppled carriages, wailing babies, and sobbing women behind him. One young unwed mother pitched a cheap throw-away cell phone at him, the kind used by kidnappers, yelling "call me, my number's on it." He caught it on the fly. He'd call her later and invite her over for a game of Twister.

He raced through the park, narrowly avoiding a collision with a young man who'd been visiting his grandmother. The old lady had fallen and broken her hip a month ago and the young fellow had been bringing her a plate of brownies every couple of days since to boost her morale. It seemed to be working. She was watching an old Cheech and Chong movie and scarfing brownies when he left.

He exited the park and raced up the street to the police station. He entered the parking lot, looking for his spot. Olaffson, Gustaffson, Bjornsson. There it was, Pain. He parked, entered the building and took the elevator to the chief's office.

There had been a spate of animal murders in recent months and the SPCA had approached the Minneapolis Police Department for help in solving the dastardly crimes. The force had hesitated at first, citing lack of manpower and resources but then Jarl had seen it as opportunity to get rid of Lumbago, whose behaviour was becoming increasingly bizarre of late. He'd felt Lumbago out one night over a beer and Lumbago had admitted that he loved babies and animals. His dream was to someday open a combined obstetrical/veterinary clinic, healing animals and delivering babies every day. Jarl agreed it was a wonderful dream, secretly reminding himself not to invite Lumbago to the surprise birthday party Jarl's wife was throwing him next month, and which Jarl had known about for weeks.

Karl and Jarl told Lumbago that he had been chosen from amongst all the other police officers to head a new one-man unit, based out of a small office at the SPCA, to solve the murders. There was just one thing. As the unit was to be a complete secret he'd have to turn in his badge and gun. The force couldn't afford some reporter spotting him and screaming that the MPD were spending valuable money solving kitty-kat murders. When Lumbago protested that he wouldn't feel like a cop without his badge and gun Jarl looked at Karl, who hesitated, then nodded briefly.

They let him keep the gun.

Posted by OldGuy at 2:19 PM | Comments (4)

June 8, 2007

Lumbago, The Beginning; Part 3, Tubbie Time

Lumbago was in the tub. He'd washed his hair and scrubbed himself squeaky clean.

Now he was recreating the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Earlier he'd painted several beer caps battleship gray to represent the American fleet. They were floating at the end of the tub near his feet. He'd also painted large red circles on his collection of rubber duckies to represent the attacking Japanese Zeros. A megaphone was sitting next to the tub. Beside it was a bowl of grapes and next to that a bowl of carrots.

He looked around, then nodded, satisfied that everything was in place.

Without warning, because the Japanese attack had come without warning, he picked up a rubber ducky in his left hand. He lifted it high, then brought it down towards the beer cap American fleet. He made loud airplane noises, the ducky screaming down towards the beer caps. With his right hand he reached down and grabbed some grapes, dropped them on the beer caps. Zeros raining death on the American fleet. He reached down again and grabbed a carrot, threw it at the Zero. Anti-aircraft fire. The ducky manouvred, dived, avoided the carrot. He grabbed the megaphone and made loud wailing noises, an air-raid siren ringing out over Pearl Harbor. Another carrot. It struck the ducky. He sputtered, coughed, then sent the ducky whistling down towards the beer cap fleet. He yelled "Banzai", quickly recited a prayer for the soul of the rubber ducky pilot, then crashed the ducky into the fleet, sinking one imperialist running dog American beer cap. Suddenly another ducky Zero appeared on the horizon, racing past the soap dish at incredible speed. It came in low. He dropped three grapes. Two missed their targets but one scored a direct hit on a beer cap. The American beer cap fleet was being decimated by the superior fire power of the Japanese rubber duckies. More grapes. More sunken beer caps. Soon only a few remained floating.

He picked up the megaphone and barked out orders in Japanese.

What was this ? Retreat ? Were they mad ? The Americans only had three beer caps left !

A rubber ducky changed course at high speed, narrowly missing the soap dish.

He farted, sending a tidal wave to the other end of the tub. It sank a beer cap.

His cell phone rang.

Posted by OldGuy at 9:41 AM | Comments (3)

June 1, 2007

Title change

I changed the title of the last Lumbago entry because it occurred to me that although it explains how Lumbago came to be offered a new job, at this point he hadn't accepted it yet. I suspect that happened at another meeting (which could be part 3, maybe due out early next week). Anyway, when you think about it these guys really are ...

Posted by OldGuy at 12:37 AM | Comments (1)

May 30, 2007

Lumbago, The Beginning; Part 2, Swedish Meatballs

Scene
6 months after the accident. The office of Chief Karl Olaffson, Minneapolis Police Department. Chief Olaffson is meeting with Lumbago's immediate superior, Captain Jarl Gustaffson, Homicide Squad, who just walked in, ostensibly to discuss Lumbago's future.

Karl: Morning Jarl. Come in and take a load off.

Jarl: Morning Karl. Say is that a new chair ?

Karl: Sure is. Just delivered last night. It's got tilt, recline, and lookee here, a massager. Isn't it a humdinger ?

Jarl: Ya, ya, it's a humdinger all right.

Karl: Ya, I love it. So Jarl, how's the family ?

Jarl: Oh, family's okay. Ya, ya, okey-dokey. Say, did I tell you Bobby's starting college next year ?

Karl: College ? Already ? Boy, time sure does fly eh Jarl ?

Jarl: Ya, ya, it sure does Karl.

Karl: Oh hey, I heard about your father-in-law. Geez, that was too bad. You have my sympathies. And tell Susie I'm sorry too.

Jarl: Thanks Karl, I'll tell Susie you said that, she'll appreciate it. But hey, there's one good thing. I got the snowblower !

Karl: You mean the big Honda ? Well, say that's great Jarl, the Honda's a humdinger !

Jarl: Ya, ya, sure is. A real humdinger.

Karl: So Jarl, about what we discussed the other day. Any ideas ?

Jarl: You mean Lumbago ? Ya, ya, I think I have something for you Karl. It's a little out there but I've researched this and it could work as long as we present it right.

Karl: Well I'm not usually big on ideas that are "out there" Jarl but I'm getting desperate. The man's become an embarassment to the whole force since the accident. It's as if he lost his mind along with his dick. Do you think that's possible ?

Jarl: Well, you know what women say Karl, men's brains are in their dicks eh ? Ha ha.

Karl: Ya, they do say that eh Jarl ? Anyway, the man's an embarrasment but I don't want to fire him, you know ? I'd rather get him a job elsewhere. Heck, we'll even pay them as long as somebody's willing to take him off our hands.

Jarl: And that's where my idea comes in Karl. The Minneapolis SPCA is short of money again this year. They're willing to give Lumbago a little office they're not using for $250 a month. Of course we'd pay his salary like we agreed but heck, it sounds like a good deal to me.

Karl: Ya, that's a good deal all right. But what do we tell Lumbago ?

Jarl: That's the beauty part of the plan Karl. Since he's completely nuts anyway we tell him the SPCA just set up a top secret homicide squad to investigate mysterious animal deaths. Heck, he'll take to it like a duck takes to water.

Karl: Sounds like a plan Jarl. Get him in here and we'll pitch it to him right now.

Posted by OldGuy at 4:10 PM | Comments (2)

May 25, 2007

Lumbago, The Beginning; Part 1, The Accident

Lumbago had just two weaknesses, porn and cigars. He normally didn't mix them, preferring to savour each in its own time. Secretly though he'd always wanted to try the two together. It was sort of like those freaks who tied plastic bags over their heads during sex because otherwise they couldn't get off. Except for him it wasn't a need, just a desire for adventure. Plus he had no intention of suffering brain anoxia because it could lead to brain damage, and he certainly didn't want to damage his fine brain, sharp as it was, and filled with years of training and experience in police work. Besides, he wasn't that stupid.

Friday, after a long day at work Lumbago stopped at his favourite store, which was located in the seedy part of town, but did a brisk business in skin magazines, adult toys, contraband Cuban cigars, and fine Belgian chocolates. He purchased the latest Penthouse and a box of Corona Grands. While he was paying for his purchases it occurred to him briefly, as did most of his thoughts, there one minute gone the next, to ask why they stocked Belgian chocolates but before he had a chance to ask the thought was gone, and he remembered that Sunday was Mother's Day so he bought a box of chocolates. The clerk asked him if he wanted a bag. Lumbago said yes so the clerk put his purchases in a pink plastic bag with the store's logo, a buxom blonde straddling a muscular young man, one hand on his chest, the other holding a piece of chocolate, emblazoned across it in bright colours.

Lumbago left the store and made his way home, swinging the bag and humming a merry tune. Several people recognized him, waved, and said hello. Some noticed the bag and commented that it looked like he had a big night planned.

Once home Lumbago carried everything into the bathroom. He dimmed the lights, lowered his pants and sat down on the toilet. He carefully removed the Penthouse and the cigar from the bag. He set the Penthouse on the floor in front of him, then unwrapped and lit his cigar. He took a long leisurely puff and flicked the ashes into the sink next to him. Wanting to build up to the big moment he started with the letters section of the magazine. He soon had a good rhythm going, stroking and puffing like a steam engine. He reached out with his toe and flipped the page to the centrefold.

And that's when things went wrong.

Lumbago was hit with an involuntary spasm, causing him to drop his cigar. It almost made it between his legs and safely into the bowl however another spasm hit him and he intercepted it in his lap.

It had been a very dry summer in Minneapolis and the city had imposed water restrictions, asking people to conserve water however possible. Lumbago, being a good citizen, had reduced his water intake to one glass a day and showers to one a week. As a result he was as dry as kindling so when the cigar landed in his lap he burst into flames instantly.

He bolted off the toilet seat and jumped in the shower. He was about to turn the faucet when he remembered the water restrictions. Why ? Why ? Why ? Good God, didn't those idiots at city hall foresee this kind of thing ? He jumped out of the shower and began rolling on the floor. The bath mat caught fire. Now what ? He spotted a can of hair spray left behind by a colleague and sometime bed partner. He didn't notice the warning label on the front. He aimed and sprayed a large cloud of hair spray at his crotch. The ensuing fireball sucked all the air out of the room and blew out the bathroom window.

Gagging and choking, Lumbago staggered out of the bathroom, down the hall, and out the door into the back yard. Through the tears streaming down his face he spotted his neighbour surreptitiously watering his lawn. He screamed for help. His neighbour came running over and doused the flames. Lumbago uttered the words "You're under arrest" then fainted.

Posted by OldGuy at 9:00 AM | Comments (5)

May 15, 2007

Fuzzy

In his youth Fuzzy had been the lead singer in a heavy metal band. For several years he toured with the band, playing larger and larger concerts as the band's fame grew. Eventually they were playing venues like The Hollywood Bowl and Madison Square Garden. They had made it.

The Band had several huge hits, including their Beach Boys inspired "Do You Wanna Dance or Would You Rather Rip Out My Liver" and their soulful ballad "Love Hurts, Especially When You Use the Taser."

Years of playing music at decibel levels approaching that of a revving jet engine and listening to fans scream assorted obscenities loud enough to be heard in Australia had left Fuzzy with 5% hearing in his left ear and 3% in his right. Simply put, if thermonuclear war ever broke out Fuzzy would think someone close by had passed gas and go about his business until he was vaporized.

Another effect of having been a metalhead was that it had left Fuzzy, well, fuzzy. Over the years Fuzzy had consumed enough legal and illegal pharmaceuticals to medicate the population of a medium-sized city into a drug-induced Nirvana. Not to mention the booze. Sales of tequila had been so brisk during Fuzzy's drinking years that he was declared a national hero in Mexico and a statue was erected in his honour in downtown Tijuana.

Then there was the sex. Years and years of indiscriminate sex and the accompanying trips to the doctor for megadoses of penicillin to cure yet another case of something nasty Fuzzy had contracted the day, the week, or the month before had taken its toll on Fuzzy. And that was only the times Fuzzy remembered what had happened and what to do about it. There were several drug and booze induced sexcapades that Fuzzy forgot about as soon as they happened. Unfortunately for Fuzzy some of these encounters extracted a price; a little dose of this, a little dose of that, and Fuzzy's immune system was fighting a losing battle against the nasty little critters determined to make their way to his brain and, once there, annihilate everything in sight.

The net result of Fuzzy's wild life style was that now, at the ripe old age of 50, he was almost completely deaf and mostly brain dead. If it hadn't been for his sense of sight, which allowed him to navigate through a world that was largely foreign to him, Fuzzy would have been a vegetable.

The he went blind.

The doctors weren't sure what the cause was so they advanced a few theories.

They didn't matter much to Fuzzy.

Several years ago, when his brain still functioned somewhat normally, Fuzzy had gotten married and his wife had stayed with him through it all. Partly because she loved him but mostly because he was filthy rich.

Still, Karen had always thought fondly of Fuzzy, so even after his mind began it's catastrophic slide into oblivion she regularly bought him porn magazines to keep him happy. It was a small thing but Fuzzy loved her for it, inasmuch as he was able to love anything. Now that Fuzzy was blind even that little pleasure was denied him. So Karen decided Fuzzy needed to learn braille so he could read porn books.

It was a bad idea.

The first time Karen put a braille book in Fuzzy's hands and guided his fingers over the little bumps Fuzzy imagined hundreds of breasts marching towards him. At first it was erotic but then his ruined brain multiplied them and they turned into thousands. Fuzzy screamed and threw the book away.

Karen waited until he'd calmed down then tried once more but again Fuzzy saw legions of breasts, and this time they were armed. He screamed so loud Karen almost had a heart attack. She decided she'd try again the next day.

It wasn't to be.

That night Fuzzy blew his brains out.

Posted by OldGuy at 2:21 PM | Comments (2)

April 26, 2007

Blues Man

He's a greying, nondescript kind of guy
Wears conservative clothes and shoes that belie
A fella who's not just interested in his retirement plan
But loves B. B. King, he's a blues man

Left his first wife because she was so out of tune
If he ever sees her again it'll be much too soon
Worked in a bank for years before his real life began
Now he plays a Gibson, he's a blues man

A razor sharp crease in his conservative pants
Kinda balding, one day soon he'll need implants
Loves NFL football, there couldn't be a bigger fan
He writes his own tunes, he's a blues man

Answers phones from morning till night
Work isn't too hard and the pay's all right
Needs to stay regular so he eats his bran
But come the weekend he's a singin, pickin blues man

Posted by OldGuy at 10:09 AM | Comments (9)

April 23, 2007

A Murder in Minneapolis - The Conclusion

"Hello darlin, how ya been ?" asked the man in black.

"Fine daddy. In a bit of a pickle I think although I'm not quite sure" replied the redhead.

"Indeed ? Well, we'll see what we can do about that. And Lumbago, long time no see buddy. Care for a cigar ? It's a Corona Grand, your favourite. Oh wait, you don't smoke anymore." said the man in black, grinning. "I guess I won't ask ya how it's hangin." His grin widened.

"Fred Swine, as I live and breathe ! I never thought I'd see you again" said Lumbago.

"Actually it's Fred McDonut. Swine's a little nickname I like to use when taking out the garbage."

"You mean committing murder don't you ?"

"You call it murder, I call it taking out the garbage."

"You mean like Mick E. Mouse ?"

"Now there's a scumbag if I ever met one. Dirty rat was blackmailing my little girl."

"Daddy, how did you know ?" asked the redhead as she looked at her father in adoration, admiration and awe. It was hard to see him through the blinding white aura that surrounded him.

"Darlin, I to keep my ear to the ground."

"Isn't that painful daddy ?"

"No, but the sound of rushing water in the other ear can be distracting."

"He was a mouse McDonut, not a rat" interjected Lumbago.

"He may have been a mouse but he was a dirty rat. Nobody messes with my little girl and gets away with it" said the man in black.

"Oh daddy" said the redhead. Her admiration for the man in black increased exponentially, as did the size of his aura. He looks like an angel the redhead thought to herself.

"You won't get away with this McDonut. I have DNA evidence that proves she did it" said Lumbago, indicating the redhead.

"When did you get that report ?" asked the man in black.

"Just before I left the office. Why ?" asked Lumbago.

"Then you might want to look at it before making any accusations" said the man in black.

Lumbago took the report from his briefcase and opened it. His blonde assistant had written that according to a survey she had conducted at Mick E.'s nightclub the night before last, 10 out of 10 men indicated that she did indeed have a Darn Nice Ass. Lumbago took his cell phone from his pocket and called his office.

"Kitty speaking" purred the voice at the other end of the phone.

"Kitty, it's Lumpy", whispered Lumbago. "Remember when I asked you to do the DNA test ? Listen I appreciate that you're trying gosh darn hard but did you happen to do the one with the test tubes ? Yeah, the funny looking glass bottles. I see. No, no, don't cry dear, it's fine, you'll get the hang of it. Right, see you back at the office."

"Well, I seem to have a problem" said Lumbago. "I'm curious though, how did you know about the report ?"

"Kitty's an old friend of mine" replied the man in black, winking slyly.

"I see. One more thing. You said Mick E. was blackmailing your daughter. What for ?"

"Oh, I can answer that captain" said the redhead. "You see, I'm addicted to potato-jumping. That's right. I like to jump naked into piles of hot steaming potatoes. Mick E. found out about it and snuck into my hotel room when I was on a grown up lady bizness trip. He took pictures and he was blackmailing me with them."

"So he threatened to send them to your family ?"

"My family ? Why no", said the redhead, sounding confused. "My family knew about my addiction. They were getting me help."

"Then I don't understand" said Lumbago.

"It's the Timberwolves tattoo on my right butt cheek. Mick E. was threatening to send the picture to a local newspaper, thus embarrassing my beloved Timberwolves. I would have paid any sum of money to stop him. I never dreamed my daddy would get involved." She looked at the man in black with tears in her eyes. How she loved him. How she admired and respected him. How she loved to bask in his awesome awesomeness and magnificent magnificence. He was ... he was ... The King !

"Well, that's that then, no sense crying over spilled milk. But next time I'll get you Fred" said Lumbago.

"Take it easy Lumbago" said the man in black.

"Oh daddy, you're my hero" said the redhead worshipfully.

Posted by OldGuy at 9:33 PM | Comments (6)

April 17, 2007

The Goodbye

This poem is dedicated to the students and teachers who lost their lives in yesterday's terrible shooting spree in Virginia.

Don't go, we were such good friends
Don't go, this can't be how it ends
Don't go, I need your gentle touch
Don't go, I'll miss you way too much

I don't want to go, I'd stay here if I could
I don't want to go, being with you feels so good
I don't want to go, but it isn't my choice to make
I don't want to go, even though your heart will break

Have a safe journey, may angels take you home
Have a safe journey, in heaven may you roam
Have a safe journey, for this I solemnly pray
Have a safe journey, may you meet God today

Have a good life, live happy and live free
Have a good life, you'll go on without me
Have a good life, you've things to do yet
Have a good life, I'm so happy that we met

Posted by OldGuy at 9:41 AM | Comments (2)

April 12, 2007

A Murder in Minneapolis - Part 5

As the strains of Cocomo faded away Lumbago heard a voice call out "I'll get it."

"Who is that Mrs. Mcdonut ?" he asked the readhead.

"That's my husband Pet."

"Mrs. McDonut, we hardly know each other" said Lumbago, blushing profusely.

"You don't understand. It's my husband Pet."

"Mrs. McDonut please, I'm an officer of the law."

"He's Pet !!"

"I see" said Lumbago, pretending to understand. "But what about the dog ?"

"He's Manley ."

"Your husband is the pet and the dog is manly ?"

"Now you're being stooooopid (a small shiver of delight went through her body). Their names are Pet and Manley." She rolled her eyes, slam-dunking the basketball as she did so.

Lumbago decided to pursue another avenue. Pursuing other avenues often led him down the road to understanding, although sometimes he reached a dead end. Other times his thoughts simply went round and round like a car stuck in a traffic circle until his head hurt and he had to lay down.

He asked the redhead where she'd been last Friday at 10 p.m. Not that it mattered, nothing had happened at 10 p.m. last Friday that had anything to do with this case. He was just rattling her cage.

Feeling safe inside her gilded Go-Go cage, (the redhead had purchased it at Target last year when she and Pet were throwing a 60's retro party and she still liked to dress up and get in and pretend she was a hot Go-Go dancer) the redhead replied that she'd been out of town on a grown up lady business trip, adding "Stop rattling my cage Captain."

Lumbago stopped rattling. He put on his sunglasses to cut down the glare coming from the disco lights then stood sideways looking at the redhead dancing in her cage. He looked very cool.

The redhead's husband entered the room accompanied by a grizzled man dressed in black. "You're missing the fireworks dear. Oh, who is this ?" he asked the readhead.

"This is Captain Lumbago Pain of the Minneapolis SPCA. He's investigating a murder Pet."

"Murder !" exclaimed Pet.

"Yes, Mr. McDonut, more specifically a mousiecide."

"Oh my God" cried Pet and promptly fainted.

The redhead addressed the grizzled man in black. "Hello."

And that was when Lumbago recognized him.

"You !!!" he exclaimed.

Posted by OldGuy at 10:52 AM | Comments (5)

April 5, 2007

And Now for a Brief Musical Interlude

As the Easter weekend is upon us and we're leaving for Toronto in the morning our story will resume next week. In the meantime I offer you the following piece of musical history about our hero (to be sung to the tune of Fernando by Abba).

Can you hear the screams Lumbago ?
I remember long ago a night when things went quite amiss
In the bathroom Lumbago
You were playing with yourself and quietly enjoying a nice cigar
I could hear your distant cries
And sounds of sirens wailing coming from afar

You were in such pain Lumbago
Every hour every minute seemed to last eternally
You were so afraid Lumbago
So young and full of life but all you wanted was to curl up and die
And I'm not ashamed to say
The sight of your poor weenie almost made me cry

There were doctors all around that night
To ease your plight, Lumbago
They were working hard you see
In surgery, Lumbago
Though you were quite lucky to pull through
I do regret
That you'll never get it up again
Like then, my friend, Lumbago

Now we're old and gray Lumbago
And since many years I haven't seen your weenie in your hand
Can you hear the screams Lumbago ?
Do you still recall that fateful night you dropped a Corona Grand ?
I can see it in your eyes
How scared you were when things didn't turn out as you'd planned

There were doctors all around that night
To ease your plight, Lumbago
They were working hard you see
In surgery, Lumbago
Though you were quite lucky to pull through
I do regret
That you'll never get it up again
Like then, my friend, Lumbago

Posted by OldGuy at 5:26 PM | Comments (5)

April 3, 2007

A Murder in Minneapolis - Part 4

"Isn't that the ugliest case if shingles you've ever seen captain ?" asked the redhead.

"Good God yes, I've never seen anything like it. How long has she been like that ?" asked Lumbago.

"Oh, 2 - 3 weeks" replied the redhead.

"2 - 3 weeks ? That's terrible", replied Lumbago.

"Yep. Can you imagine walking around looking like that ?" The redhead tried to look sad but Lumbago noticed the twinkle in her eye, almost as if she found the young girl's situation funny. It occurred to him that someone who could find something so horrible amusing might be capable of darker thoughts, thoughts that could lead to murder.

"Mom, how long am I going to be stuck with this ugly case of shingles" asked the young girl ?

"Dear, when I got them I had them for two months."

"TWO MONTHS !!! But mom look at me ! My arms must two inches longer from carrying this ugly case of shingles. If I have to carry this thing for two months I'm going to turn into a knuckle-dragger !!"

" There's nothing I can do about it dear. It's like your grandfather said, you kissed too many boys so the shingle fairy brought you an ugly case of shingles. When you've stopped kissing boys long enough she'll take it away. For me, it was two months. Could be longer for you, it depends how many boy's you've kissed."

"But mom !!!! Ballie's kissed a lot of boys and she didn't get an ugly case of shingles !! It isn't fair !!"

"Nobody ever said life was fair dear. Ballie will get what's coming to her some day. Now run along and play with your shingles."

"Stupid shingle fairy" said the young girl. She turned to go, hit the wall, bounced off it, and dropped her case of shingles, spilling them on the floor."

"Not again, I'm so tired of this !" said the girl. She knelt, picked up her shingles, put them back in the box, and stood up.

"Door's to your left dear" said the readhead.

"Thanks mom."

"Mrs. McDonut, I really must ask what's going on. Why is your daughter carrying around an ugly case of shingles ?"

"Oh, it's my dad. He's been up to his old shenanigans again."

"Your father did this to her ?"

"Yessss, yessss. He told Nelly that if she didn't stop kissing boys the shingle fairy would bring her an ugly case of shingles and she'd have to carry it around until the shingle fairy took it away again."

"And she believed him ?"

"Captain, she just walked into a wall. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Yes, I suppose it does. But about your father. Why would he do such a terrible thing to an innocent young girl ?"

"Oh, dad's just a big kidder, he's always playing jokes like that on people. Heck, like you heard me say, he did the same thing to me when I was young."

Could it run in the family wondered Lumbago ? Evil genius father, evil genius daughter ? He'd seen it before, when The Roadrunner finally bought it. Hmmm....

Just then the doorbell rang. It played Cocomo again. Lumbago started to hum. Then he stood up and started to dance.

"What are you doing captain ?" asked the readhead, puzzled.

"It's this song Mrs. McDonut. Every time I hear it I feel all warm inside and I just have to sing and dance. It's like that scene in Singing in the Rain when it starts to rain and Gene Kelly has to dance. I can't help myself. Would you dance with me Mrs. McDonut ?"

"I don't dance captain. If it's alright with you I'll go to my happy place."

He danced.

She dribbled.

Outside fireworks lit up the sky.

Posted by OldGuy at 8:33 PM | Comments (2)

March 29, 2007

A Murder in Minneapolis - Part 3

"Mick E. Mouse was the power behind the throne in Minneapolis Mrs. McDonut. Nothing went down in this town without his approval, not even Hildegard the Happy Hooker" said Lumbago.

"And he was murdered ? " inquired the redhead.

"We believe so. His body was found in a dumpster not far from here"

"But people kill mice all the time, I mean he's just a frickin mouse right ?"

"Mrs. McDonut, if you believe that you're as deluded as the rest of the people in this town. But I don't believe you believe that. I believe you believe something else entirely. I believe you believe what those of us who know the truth believe. I believe that sincerely. "

"Well, you believe wrong captain. I don't believe what you believe. I believe something else."

"I wish I could believe that Mrs. Mcdonut, but I can't. I believe you're lying. I believe you believe the same thing I do but you want to make me believe you don't believe it. I believe you believe that Mickey was a powerful mouse and I believe you know who murdered him."

"And I believe you're frickin nuts captain."

"Mrs. McDonut, have you ever heard of Mickey Mouse ?"

"D'uuuhhhh, helllllooooooo, isn't that who we're talking about ? Those blue sparkles do something to your brain captain or have you been making side trips to Canada on the weekend ?"

"I said Mickey, not Mick E. Perhaps you should clean the caulk out of your ears."

"I have a cock in my ear ?"

"See, there you go again. Here, use this."

"You want me to stick a Q-tip in my ear ?"

"Beats caulk."

"That's your opinion."

"Anyway, getting back to Mickey Mouse, you've heard of him right ?"

"Sure, cartoon character created by Walt Disney. What about him ?"

"Mrs. Mcdonut, that's what everybody believes. In actual fact, Walt Disney did not create Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse created Walt Disney."

"Okaaaaaaayyyy (gosh that feels good she thought as an aside). I still think you're nuts but let's say I believe you. I still don't see what this has to do with me" said the redhead as she removed a large piece of caulk from her ear.

"Mrs McDonut, there's a whole other world out there. It's vast and it's shadowy but it exists. Mickey and Mick E. were a big part of it, a very big part of it. And I believe Mick E. was murdered because he was horning in on someone's territory."

"Mick E. was horny ?'

"Have another Q-tip."

Just then a young blonde girl with a case of shingles walked into the room.

Lumbago gasped !

Posted by OldGuy at 8:49 AM | Comments (4)

March 28, 2007

Skunk Punk

If I was a skunk
I'd be a devilish sort of skunk punk
All tricked out in shiny black
With a gnarly white stripe down my back

I'd say listen up Mr Fox
You ain't nothin with your auburn locks
You let me be, let me hang loose
Or you'll get a taste of nasty skunk juice

And as for you Mr Porcupine
Lest you enjoys a glass of skunky wine
You just take them pointy quills
Turn around and head for the hills

I'd be the toughest skunk around
All the animals I would astound
I'd be rude and I'd be blunt
Not too bad for a little runt

Posted by OldGuy at 8:52 AM | Comments (4)

March 26, 2007

A Murder in Minneapolis - Part 2

Lumbago stared, transfixed, at the redhead. She would lazily dribble the basketball in her left eye for a few seconds then she'd throw it into her right eye, where it landed in the basket almost every time. For the few seconds when the basketball disappeared from her left eye it twitched, almost as if it had something in it that was irritating it, which it obviously didn't as the basketball was quite clearly not there. Not only that but the eye tried to follow the basketball to the other side, but of course it could only go so far, giving it a cross-eyed appearance. Could it be that the eye missed the basketball, felt adrift in a sea of loneliness without it ? The right eye twitched when she failed to sink a basket.

"Interesting contacts" said Lumbago.

"Contacts ? I have 20-20 vision, I don't wear contacts", she replied.

"So how do you do that basketball thing? " he asked.

"What basketball thing ?" replied the redhead.

"You know, when you..." then he stopped. The woman had no idea what he was talking about. Is it me he wondered ? No, she's actually doing that, she just doesn't know it.

"I take it you're a basketball fan then ?" asked Lumbago.

"Basketball, oh I absitively love basketball" she replied, then slam dunked the ball.

"Permit me to introduce myself madam. I'm Captain Lumbago Pain of the Minneapolis SPCA homicide squad."

"The SPCA has a homicide squad ? That's stupid." She dragged out the word, pronouncing it "stoooooopid." The redhead liked dragging out words. Some days she dragged out lots of words. It was annoying to her listeners and she didn't say much what with all that word dragging but it felt good, and as far as she was concerned that's all that mattered.

"Well, I'm Floosi McDonut. So what brings you here Captain ?"

"Perhaps we'd better talk inside where we can sit Mrs. McDonut."

The redhead invited him in.

A few moments later they were seated in the living room.

"Would you like a drink captain, I have beer, wine ?' she asked.

"No thank you, I'm on duty" replied Lumbago.

"Coffee ?" she asked again.

"No thank you, I don't drink coffee."

"Crack ?"

"Never touch the stuff before noon."

"Can I get you anything at all ?" she tried again.

"Sparkling water if you have it."

"Coming right up" she replied.

"With blue sparkles."

"I beg your pardon ?" she asked. This guy was a little weird she thought. Little did she know he was quickly formulating the same opinion of her.

"I said with blue sparkles."

"Okaaaaaaaay" she replied. It felt good so she said it again "Okaaaaaaaakay. Then one more time "Okaaaaaaaay."

Then she left the room.

In the kitchen Floosi found some sparkling water of the clear variety. Then she had an idea. She had some blue sparkles left over from Nelly's last birthday cake so she shook some in. That ought to do it she thought.

She returned to the living room and offered Lumbago his sparkling water. He looked disappointed.

"What's wrong captain" she asked.

"I prefer baby blue sparkles. But hey it's okay, no need to get up again on my account."

"So captain, what brings you here then ?" she asked again.

"I'm here about a murder Mrs. McDonut, specifically the murder of one Mick E. Mouse."

The redhead briefly looked shaken then quickly recomposed herself.

"Never heard of him" she replied.

She was dribbling the basketball again, only this time quite quickly.

Posted by OldGuy at 9:22 PM | Comments (5)

March 21, 2007

A Murder in Minneapolis - Part 1

Captain Lumbago Pain of the Minneapolis SPCA arrived at the house with tires squealing and dome light flashing. It was hard to make the tires squeal on a tricycle but he managed to do it every time. He got off his tricycle and removed his hat with the red light on top.

The house was painted various shades of yellow. It looked like a large lemon.

There was a flagstone path at the front of the house and the flags in the stones were waving. It took him five minutes to negotiate the path to the front door.

He pressed the doorbell. It played Cocomo by the Beach boys. He hummmed along. Then he started dancing. Then he remembered he was here on business and got himself under control.

He stood sideways and waited. Lumbago did everything standing sideways because it was very cool. He had however discovered that this didn't work very well when going for a pee so always sat down when in the bathroom. It was a small price to pay for being cool.

Just as Cocomo ended the door was opened by a young blonde girl carrying a large rawhide bone. A little brown dog hung from it. The girl threw the bone into the front yard. The dog went with it. The bone hit the ground, bounced twice, then came to rest against a large tree. The dog, laying on its back with all four legs splayed out, was still attached to it.

"Stanley, for the last time, stop bringing that disgusting bone in the house" the girl yelled.

The dog bared what few teeth it had that weren't firmly imbedded in the rawhide bone and growled.

The girl noticed Lumbago and asked him what she could do for him.

"I'm here to investigate a murder"said Lumbago.

"Oh, then you'll be wanting my mom" the girl replied. She turned around and yelled "Mom, there's someone here to see you."

A few moments later a middle-aged redhead came to the door. Just as Lumbago was about to say something the redhead looked up at him. She was wearing a contact lens that looked like a basketball in her left eye and one that looked like a basketball net in her right eye.

She was slowly dribbling the basketball.

Posted by OldGuy at 10:12 AM | Comments (3)

March 18, 2007

Happy Birthday Princess

When you were one
You weren't much fun
But you were sorta cute
In your birthday suit

When you were two
That's when I knew
You'd stolen my heart
Right from the start

When you were three
It was easy to see
We were going to get along
Like Fay Wray and King Kong

When you were four
I loved you even more
With your head full of curls
Like soft golden whorls

When you were five
This ain't no jive
Father-daughter date night
Was a real delight

When you were six
I'd get my kicks
Telling you a silly joke
Or giving your belly a poke

When you were seven
Nowhere near eleven
We'd ride our bikes round the block
Paying no attention to the clock

When you were eight
It was really great
To hang out with you
Just us two

Now that you're nine
Sweet baby of mine
I just wanna say
Have a fantastic birthday

Posted by OldGuy at 12:58 AM | Comments (4)

February 17, 2007

Once

Once we traded stories
Late into the night
About the girls we loved
And how life had turned out right

Once we partied on the beach
Playing our battered guitars
Rocking to the music
And dancing beneath the stars

Once we went through life
Without a single care
Taking on all comers
And accepting every dare

Once all we cared about
Was having a fancy set of wheels
And we roared down the highway
Like the devil was at our heels

Once we lived our lives
In the blink of an eye
We dared to be bold
Because we weren't afraid to die

Once we were kings
And today was all that mattered
For tomorrow was far away
And yesterday was old and tattered

Posted by OldGuy at 9:20 PM | Comments (7)

February 6, 2007

The Departure

She sat on the sofa, tears in her eyes, listening to the sounds coming from upstairs. Her son was leaving this morning and he was in his room packing. She could hear him moving around, picking things up, putting some in his duffle bag, putting others away. He sounded rushed, as though he was anxious to be done and gone. He came downstairs a couple of times and picked up a few items that hadn't been put away when he'd quit university and come home two weeks ago.

When he was done he brought his bags downstairs and told her his friend was coming to pick him up any minute now. She sat in her chair and waited for him to say something else, anything else, but he did not.

When his friend arrived they picked up the boy's bags then he walked out and locked the front door. She was stunned when she heard the sound. He was leaving without saying goodbye !

She ran downstairs, opened the door and saw him getting into his friend's car. She cried out that she at least deserved a goodbye, couldn't he do that much for her ? He regarded her silently and got in the car without a word.

She walked back upstairs and sat down again, crumbled really. She began to cry again, making loud, wrenching, sobbing noises as she felt her heart shatter.

Throughout the years she'd cried many tears over the boy, but she had always cried for him. This time she cried for herself.

Posted by OldGuy at 10:01 AM | Comments (10)

January 26, 2007

If

If I had a dollar
I'd buy a whack of bubblegum
Blow bubbles till the sun went down
And my tongue was completely numb

If I had a baseball
I'd hit it till my arms were sore
Pretend I was a big league hitter
Listening to the home fans roar

If I had a bicyle
I'd ride it to Timbuktu
Meet interesting people along the way
And stop for a how do ya do

If I had a kite
I'd fly it till the day was done
Watch it soar above the clouds
Playing peek a boo with the sun

If I had a pair of roller skates
I'd skate the live long day
Go zipping down the sidewalk
Shouting "people get out of my way"

If I had a skateboard
I'd rock and roll the whole day through
Do kickflips, heelflips and hard flips
Lipslides, noseslides and tailslides too

Posted by OldGuy at 2:22 PM | Comments (2)

January 22, 2007

Images From a Life

Riding the little horse with one blue eye and one brown eye
I like my parent's horse better, it's bigger and its eyes are the same colour

Sitting in a restaurant about to eat lunch when the earthquake starts
My parents told me this was going to be a fun day, this isn't fun at all

Learning how to swim one summer at a park near Niagara Falls
At last I can play in the deep end of the pool with the big kids

Making a cake out of chocolate wafers and cream when I was 12 years old
I thought this was supposed to be difficult, anybody can make one of these

Cruising down the highway in my dad's big blue Oldsmobile
Elton John singing "Philadelphia Freedom" and the words sound just fine

That first day at university, walking around looking at everything
Thinking "This is my home for the next few years and I'm in charge of my life"

Do you see it ?

Posted by OldGuy at 11:48 AM | Comments (2)

December 19, 2006

A Tree House Christmas 2006

OldGuy was admiring his Christmas tree
And listening to his favourite Christmas cd
He'd been sipping brandy all evening long
And now he broke out into cheerful song

He sang and he danced with boyish glee
Singing "Merry Christmas to you and to me"
He danced round and round across the floor
And almost went flying right out the door

He picked up the snifter and poured another drink
Then thought to himself "I'm a little tipsy I think"
So he stumbled and weaved to his old comfy chair
Then lowered himself into it with the greatest of care

He sat and he waited for jolly old St Nick
But soon was mesmerized by the mantle clock's tic
His chin dropped to his chest and he started to doze
But a chill shook his body from his head to his toes

A few hours later Santa came in from the snow
Carrying a package tied with a bright silver bow
He found his friend sleeping looking tired and old
And he covered him up so he'd no longer be cold

Then Santa walked to the tree near the door
To leave the present OldGuy had wished for
A book bound in leather with pages of vellum within
For OldGuy to write his thoughts and ideas therein

If you'd like to read 2005's Tree House Christmas poem it's in the archives. Just check December 2005

Posted by OldGuy at 12:39 PM | Comments (6)

December 6, 2006

The poem below

I know it has nothing do do with Christmas and it's a bit silly but I woke up in the middle of the night with the first couple of lines in my head (this has happened before), so I wrote them down and went back to bed. This morning I finished it.

Posted by OldGuy at 10:06 AM

Adventuring

I'd like to go adventuring
A pirate I would be
I'd put a parrot on my shoulder
And sail the deep blue sea

I'd like to go adventuring
Be a knight strong and brave
I'd strap a sword to my waist
And slay a dragon in its cave

I'd like to go adventuring
Archeology would be fine
I'd dig up bones in Africa
And unearth a dinosaur spine

I'd like to go adventuring
Scuba diving would be fab
I'd swim beneath the ocean
And consider coral with a crab

I'd like to go adventuring
Fly an airplane way up high
I'd do figure eights and barrel rolls
And write messages in the sky

Posted by OldGuy at 9:04 AM | Comments (2)

December 5, 2006

Christmas - Remember What It's About

You jump in the car and drive to the mall
Coz Walmart just got the latest Bratz doll
You stand in line for two hours or more
Buy the doll then rush to the next store

You cook the turkey and bake the pies
Then rush to buy more baking supplies
You've still got to make a chocolate Yule log
Decorate cookies and whip up the egg nog

You put up the tree and the decorations
Send Christmas cards to all the relations
Put up the garlands and the lights too
So little time and so much to do

Lunches and brunches and parties galore
You're no sooner in than you're back out the door
No time to relax, no time to sit down
You're running around all over town

You sit in the church and listen to the story
Of shepherds and angels and heavenly glory
Your mind is still and your soul is restored
As you hear of the birth of Christ our Lord

Posted by OldGuy at 9:49 AM | Comments (1)

December 1, 2006

The Gingerbread House

When Sarah was growing up, every year, a few days before Christmas, she and her mother Elizabeth would bake a gingerbread house.

Starting early in the day, they would mix the ingredients together to make the gingerbread walls and roof and bake them in the oven. While the pieces were baking they would make the icing to glue the pieces together, and sort the candies with which to decorate the house. When the pieces had finished baking they would take them out of the oven and listen to Christmas carols and play card games while the pieces cooled. Then they would assemble the house and put the candy decorations on.

If it was snowing outside they would play outdoors for a bit after the house was done, then come inside for a cup of hot chocolate. The kitchen always smelled wonderful when they came in and Sarah would always ask her mother if she could have a little piece of the gingerbread house. Her mother always said no, the house was to be the centrepiece for the dining room table on Christmas day and it would be cut up and served at Christmas dinner.

When Sarah got married she and Elizabeth got together at Sarah's home every year to make the gingerbread house until Sarah's own daughter Rebecca was old enough to help, then it was the three of them in the kitchen together for several years. Although Elizabeth was too old to play in the snow she loved watching out the window while Sarah and Rebecca played outside and she always had the hot chocolate ready when they came back in. And just as Sarah had done before her, Rebecca would ask for a little piece of gingerbread house only to be told no, it was the Christmas table centrepiece and would be served at Christmas dinner.

In the summer of her 75th year, Elizabeth was diagnosed with cancer and died a few weeks later. Sarah, who had loved her mother more than anyone except her own daughter, was devastated. For months she cried every night, and although she wanted to believe her mother was in heaven, she found it hard to believe in heaven, so profound was her grief. Although Sarah's family tried everything to help her, she continued to spiral deeper into depression as the weeks wore on.

The week before Christmas Sarah's daughter asked her if they could make the gingerbread house. Sarah, knowing that Rebecca needed her mother back whole, wanted to make the gingerbread house with her, but her pain was still too great and she told Rebecca that this year she simply wasn't up to it, but perhaps they could go out on Christmas eve and buy one.

And so on Christmas eve Sarah and Rebecca went out to buy a gingerbread house. Unfortunately all the stores in town were sold out of them and they returned home empty handed. When they walked in the kitchen it was filled with the aroma of warm gingerbread, and they discovered a beautiful gingerbread house on the counter and two cups of hot chocolate on the kitchen table.

Sarah knew at once that Elizabeth had been there and that she was watching over them. She felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her heart and she felt warmed and comforted by her mother's love for the first time in months. She realized that her mother had always been and always would be there for her.

And the following day when they served the gingerbread house at Christmas dinner they made sure to cut a piece for Elizabeth.

Posted by OldGuy at 11:24 PM | Comments (3)

November 29, 2006

Seasons

In the spring of his life the boy learned to talk
He learned to crawl and he learned to walk
He learned to laugh and he learned to sing
He learned there is beauty in every living thing

In the summer of his life the youth learned romance
He learned to love and he learned to dance
He learned to take chances and he learned to fly
He learned you can do anything if you really try

In the fall of his life the man learned to fear
He learned to judge and he learned to sneer
He learned to doubt and he learned to slight
He learned to hold money in a fist curled tight

In the winter of his life the old man learned to forgive
He learned to accept and he learned to let live
He learned to be humble and he learned to pray
He learned to be thankful for each new day

Posted by OldGuy at 2:02 PM | Comments (6)

November 2, 2006

The Driving Lesson

Once upon a time there was a young girl named Nelly who wanted to get her driver's license. Nelly took driver's ed and although she tried very hard she simply couldn't master the art of driving, and flunked her driver's test. So her mother Floozi, taking pity upon poor Nelly, decided to teach Nelly how to drive.

So Floozi took Nelly for a lesson in her KG, which wasn't a lemon. Which was too bad coz Floozi liked lemons, in fact she owned a set of china with lemons on it which she kept in a box hidden behind the recycle bin in the garage, and sometimes late at night, after everyone was asleep, she would sneak into the garage and take out her china and spread it out on the garage floor and pretend she was having a dinner party. And she would laugh and her eyes would glow and she would have a grand time. And when she was done she would put everything away again until the next full moon.

But I digress.

So Floozi took Nelly for a driving lesson in her non-lemon type KG and Nelly did eveything she was told, turning here, stopping there, parking over yonder. And soon Floozi, who fancied herself the queen of fashion today in her black boots, red dress, and long wolly underwear, began to wonder why Nelly had flunked her driver's ed course.

Come to think of it pondered Floozi, Nelly had been spending a lot of time in the kitchen baking heart-shaped cookies lately and sometimes when Floozi asked her a question Nelly would get a dreamy far away look in her eyes, as though she was thinking of butterflies and clowns.

Could Nelly be in love, was that the problem ?

Oh well Floozi thought, perhaps that was it, and she went back to teaching Nelly the finer points of parking as close to a sleeping mouse as possible without actually running over it. Nelly wasn't sure she would ever need this skill but she preferred not to argue with her mother because her mother would probably blog about it and blame Nelly, which would embarass her terribly. Plus her mother was going a little heavy on the valium lately and Nelly didn't want her popping one in the middle of a driving lesson.

So they drove around the city, and Floozi made Nelly practice very hard, and sometimes Floozi would scream "STOP" and Nelly, her heart pounding like a sledge hammer, would slam on the brakes, causing much consternation to the other drivers. Then Floozi would calmly exit the vehicle and snap a picture of an interesting person, then get back in the car, chuckle gleefully, and tell Nelly to keep driving. Later Floozi would blog about these interesting people because Floozi loved blogging almost as much as she loved the local NBA basketball team. And Chippottle.

And so it came to pass that Nelly got her driver's licence and she loved driving so much that she became a famous race car driver, winning the Indianapolis 500 three times. And when she did she bought her mother a big mansion with a laundromat on the lower level and her very own basketball team.

Disclaimer: any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Posted by OldGuy at 8:19 PM | Comments (8)