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The Twins of Kane – Leviticus 3.1

I simply wished that there was a way that I could tell what time I was in. My mind is too complex, and perhaps that is the reason that I am lost in this dream like dilemma. Part of me was wondering already if this just happens sometimes, and the rest of the world is relaxed and innocent to it all. I was still trying to cover my tracks, and keep my son out of all of this. Make sure that all of this strangeness didn’t affect him, and perhaps only a mother could care about these things. It might be humorous if his father had been stuck between time dealing with a battle between immortal and omnipotent beings. Laudably the moment he found out that the end of the world was coming he would have been out raping and pillaging with any other sourball that believed it to be destiny. He wouldn’t have had a care in the world for trying to interfere with it in any way, and more over it would have just been the justification for his wanton behavior. Again, what little morality I have is interfering with a great party, I’m sure.

Then there is the fact that I don’t happen to be interfering with anything. I am an unwilling audience to it all and worse still, I am being yanked around to see it with more clarity then I should. Part of it makes me angry and part of it makes me sad. Sitting here on my porch doesn’t make anything happen, but when things are out of your control, why make things worse? At the time I thought that things worked out better if I let them, and at times I was right. I didn’t know where Jake was anyway, and rather than worry about it pacing around the house, I think it’s just better to sit and watch people and traffic. What little of both there happens to be it does calm me down and always seemed to. I’m in the zone, so I imagined that something needed to come along and interfere with it at any moment. I ended up interfering with it myself when I reached into my pocket and grabbed the piece of parchment.

I had changed my jeans and thrown on a new shirt, but made sure that the parchment was in my pocket. Nothing had been written on it for several hours and for some reason I don’t want Lou to see it, or know about it. I still wasn’t terribly sure that he didn’t know about it, or everything for that matter. He did seem rather genuine when he said that he didn’t know why I jump in and out of time the way I do, and that he can’t do it himself, but again he is the Devil so why do I believe I know anything about him. Two Thousand years of documentation on him don’t exactly paint a picture of honesty or readability, and on the rare occasion that someone has something nice to say about him, it tends to be a “lunatic” wearing face paint in a band that plays intolerable music. Not exactly the best of character references in all reality.

I was staring at the parchment wishing it would just write things and let me read them. Its comfort level is wearing off really quickly no matter how much I rubbed it, or stared at it. “Can you answer my questions?” I ended up saying to it as it sat in my hand. Part of me feels self conscious talking to a blank piece of trash, and the realistic side of me still reminds me that I am either insane or beyond need of ego these days anyway. It remained tragically blank as I looked at it. The questions of “Who are you?” or “What are you?” seriously had never crossed my mind at the time, but it wasn’t like it would answer me anyway. I had a good sign far off in the distance though as I saw someone walking this direction that looked very much like Jake. He was still too far away to see clearly.

I almost missed it as I was staring down the street, but the parchment started displaying words again like an invisible pencil was scribbling them down. The words formed out, “If I have time, and I can answer your questions I will,” and as they faded away more words started scrawling in over them, “Who I am, is none of your business, and what I am is a piece of parchment,” as these words faded away more words filled in, “You should show me to Lucifer, it would drive him insane.”

I waited for a minute and no words came. I looked down the street and it was Jake walking home carrying his baseball gear. He wasn’t quite in earshot yet, and the parchment was still blank, so I asked it “Why would it drive Lou insane?”

The parchment immediately started filling in again and the words stated plainly, “He can’t read me. He never could read me,” and the words disappeared to be replaced with, “I can write in languages only to be read by those I want to read me,” again they faded and “He thinks he understands everything,” was written there.

“How come you’re not at work mom?” Jake asked me as he started crossing the lawn. It hit me like an arrow, and I can’t even remember if I had shown it in my face. He tossed his things on the porch and sat down next to me. “I went to the diner after the game and it was closed?”

My mind went into a frantic overdrive, and I started stuttering before I cleared my throat. I jumped back in time and don’t know when it had happened. Ok, if this is last Saturday, which it would have to be because it was the first game of the season, and the only one that the diner would have been there, then I had closed the diner an hour early to be at his game. My brain flooded with the details of the game, and I started slowly while paying attention to his expressions, “I went to your game, and watched you play,” think Stacy, Think! “that throw you had into home plate in the sixth really saved the game, I am so proud of you,” and with that I gave him the motherly hug in hopes that this would pass quickly.

Heaven forbid that it was that easy for he asked immediately, “Why didn’t you stick around and walk home with me like you did last year?” and his voice was a been remorseful when he asked this. In reality I had stuck around and walked him home from the game, and I had actually been at the game, but now I guess that I can affect time as well when I jump in and out of it.

“I didn’t think it would be so cool if your mom was there, I don’t know how your friends look at these things anymore …” I trailed off losing my ability to lie rather quickly.

“Mom, please?” he started while surveying me a bit, “You know that my friends think you are cooler than me and Ricky is usually the only one who walks back with us,” he looked around, “He didn’t show up today. He quit the team, and that’s why Maria pitched, and Will played short stop. She did pretty good didn’t she?” he asked me at the end.

“Yeah, she did great,” I lied, because the game I had seen Ricky pitched and squeaked through. It appears that many things change when time does, and I just had to ask, “Why did he quit the team?”

Jake looked at me appraisingly. I had the rather growing feeling that he had caught me in a lie. I couldn’t explain it at the time, and I am not going to explain it now, but I just had that feeling. He did answer my question though with, “He told me yesterday that he needed to set his priorities right, and stop looking for the easy ways out,” he licked his lips like he always does when he is about to say something uncomfortable, and I braced myself inside for whatever was coming, “He said that you had convinced him to do that,” … To be continued

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After a good hour of listening to the two special “ed” agents talking about themselves in the third person {what kind of weirdo would do that} the Superdaddyman was about ready to take one of the 80 plates that TO dropped and slice open his wrists. He did manage to catch a bag of peanuts that Lazius Boycrazius threw to him {to which Condi reminded everyone that it was unimportant} but there was no china left to throw, so Captain ADHD had gone out back to watch Imtoocutus continue to play the “Why” game with a screaming Roger Clemens. Of course this left TO sitting up front with the Superdaddyman and Condi adding how he has done everything “better” that they were trying to discuss. “Where are we going anyway?” the Superdaddyman asked finally when the evils’s were almost out of earshot.

After a TO explained how he “goings” better than anyone Condi said, “We are going to Oakland, and you shut the fuck up about how you Oakland better than anyone!” she waited for his indignation to end before she continued, “We have it on reliable sources that the Easter Bunny was last seen in Oakland, being chased by a bunch of rejects from a KISS concert.”

“Oh My God … Raiders Fans!” the Superdaddyman immediately exclaimed. “It’s common knowledge that Raiders fans are getting whinier every year without a decent team, and they must be getting desperate knowing that they may never have a good team again,” he then added thoughtfully, “But they aren’t usually considered that bright, are they operating on their own?”

“Well of course they are not working on their own,” she said looking around to make sure that nobody other than TO is listening. He doesn’t count because he only remembers if his name is used, so she continued, “We believe that the Big Penguin is involved. Not the runt boss that you faced off against last year, but the actual head of the diabolical Penguins,” she handed the Superdaddyman something that looked like a silver and black circus costume and said, “I know it’s going to be rough, but you’ll need to go under cover and bring down the Big Penguin once and for all.”

It could only take a mission like this to force the Superdaddyman into the garb of the dreaded Raiders Nitwit. Desperate times call for desperate measures though, and at least it wasn’t hard to get the Evils’s into their disguises once they found out that face paint was involved. “Why the hell am I bringing these morons along?” he ended up asking Condi after coming out of the bathroom dressed from head to toe in Raiders Twit gear looking every bit like King Diamond’s far gayer brother.

“We told You know who,” which is how they mentioned TO so not to get him interested in what they are saying, “that the Raiders want to pick up his contract for an extra 40 bucks a year, and he immediately started talking about ‘getting respect’ and couldn’t wait to go and talk to Al Davis about it,” she looked over to see TO out talking Imtoocutus who they had strapped to a chair with a seatbelt looking completely tortured. “It will be a great cover for you because those two could hold up in an office for days talking about each other.”

She didn’t go on, so the Superdaddyman finally asked her, “And what about Steroid Floyd back there? He couldn’t possibly have come along to help us think up strategy!”

“He gave the President and autographed uniform if he would let him go and do ‘secret stuff’ last year, and just happened to be at the White House when you were talking to the President,” she looked back where Roger had just crushed a beer can in the crack of his ass and then said, “He couldn’t possibly be any worse than you, could he?”

Walking through Oakland wearing their disguises, the Superdaddyman and the Evils’s didn’t exactly blend in, but it might have worked easier if they weren’t being followed around by a big redneck asking every wino and prostitute that they passed, what they were looking at. TO didn’t make it any better telling them all that he was a better wino and prostitute than all of them were. He may be right on the prostitute part, but his brief stint as a suicidal junkie didn’t exactly win an Oscar. His constantly asking where his cameras were at was driving the entire brood crazy, but before long they were all standing in front of the Oakland Coliseum. It was unusually quiet, even considering that football season is 5 months away the Superdaddyman had assumed that they would find at least a few dozen Raider’s fans laying around crying in their Colt 45.

TO immediately started yelling “I’m home!” which made the noise level raise quite a bit, as a gang of penguins and Raiders fans came strolling out demanding to know what they all were doing there. TO immediately started explaining how he does there better than any of them, and the Raiders fans immediately started lapping it up. “Listen to me, penguin man, I am here to talk to Al Davis about respect!”

The leader of the penguins whom Superdaddyman had witnessed Rudolf get all North Pole on his ass popped out of the crowd. Fortunately he didn’t recognize his nemesis Superdaddyman in his disguise, but penguins aren’t exactly known for their football knowledge either so he asked, “Who the hell are you?” to a tumult of expletives from the Raiders fans behind him for not recognizing TO, who is naturally one of their type of superstars. “Look the Big Guy says that he doesn’t want to be disturbed for nobody!”

This had gone on too long for Lazius Boycrazius who had obviously still remembered that these little bastards had stolen her socks and shoes, and still blames them for killing her cell phone battery erupts but in a rather cunning way, “How dare you disrespect TO!” she screamed as she rampaged into the penguins and started throwing them around everywhere. It was a brilliant trick as the Raiders fans standing behind the gang of penguins started grabbing them and throwing them against stairs as well. Captain ADHD saw the potential for massive chaos and went FLASH on all of them, making them all dizzy from the blur of awe inspiring ADHD chaos. Imtoocutus and the Superdaddyman used the chaos to run through the crowd and into the stadium. Well actually Superdaddyman ran in and Imtoocutus stayed under his feet as usual.

It appears that all of the penguins and Raiders Rejects were out front by this point being pummeled by Lazius Boycrazius, and in a daze from the whirling Captain ADHD. The Superdaddyman attempted to stealthily make his way up the stairs towards Al Davis’s office but failing miserably with a babbling Imtoocutus under his feet. At the end of the hall he sees the door that has “The Boss” written on it, and a Texas Drawl from behind him says, “Whoa, I love Springsteen!” and as it echoed down the hall he heard the locks clicking on the door.

Using his Superdaddybrain our hero looks behind him and spies out his hulking redneck associate standing there. His face in a kid like grin over the potential of meeting Springsteen, but the Superdaddyman comes up with a plan really quickly. “Springsteen is in there, but we came here because he said you pitch like a fairy, and your nuts fell off from all the roids.”

Faster than the drop of a pin the goofy smile disappeared and a red faced steroid crazed monster was standing there transforming into a roid rage like Mr. Hyde. His face contorted evilly and the veins on his neck started bulging out as he started screaming in a war chant and rocketed towards the door at the end of the hall. With the force of a rampaging bull that had just had its balls pinched he smashed down the door and landed with it in a huge THUMP! Superdaddyman stood there staring at the door with Clemens laying on top of it probably dead, but in his mind, “Killing two birds with one stone,” and then removed Imtoocutus from his leg {she’s bored yanno} so that he can make his own charge down the hall.

Entering the office just in the nick of time, the Superdaddyman can see Al Davis stepping out the window carrying a gagged and bound Easter Bunny into a helicopter. “You’re too late Superdaddyfool!” and as he sat there the helicopter hovered for a moment so that he could yell out, “You’ll never see this bunny again if I don’t get that Trophy your Patriots screwed me out of with that damn TUCK RULE!” and with that the helicopter started floating away.

Enraged by having to hear another Raiders fan whine about the damn “Tuck Rule” the Superdaddyman did the most heinous thing he could possibly think of! He grabbed Imtoocutus by the back of her pants and tossed her into the helicopter with him, and watched them all start to float away. It started floating off, 50 yards, 100 yards, 150 yards, 200 yards and then just stopped in mid air, and hovered there for a minute. Then it started coming back, 150 yards, 100 yards, 50 yards, until it was hovering at the window again.

With a loud yell of “Shut the FUCK UP, and get the FUCK OUT!” the helicopter pilot kicked all three of them back through the window. No sooner had Al Davis hit the floor with the Easter bunny and Imtoocutus hopping up and down on top of him the helicopter pilot was speeding away without them all.

Superdaddyman quickly untied the Easter Bunny and started exclaiming, “You only have a few hours left, you better get flying!” and without saying a word he started hopping out the door to freedom. He then applied the gag to Imtoocutus to get her to shut up for a second so that he could question the Big Penguin once and for all, but first had to say, “If your team sucks then blame yourself!” right at the moment that TO came walking in carrying a struggling Easter Bunny.

“Hey look what I caught!” he yelled out while carrying Lazius Boycrazius on his back trying to strangle him and shouting expletives at him.

The Superdaddyman turned around right at the point where Al Davis was about to say “And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for you meddling Evils’s!” and said, “Hey Roger, TO said that you pitch like a fairy, your nuts fell off from all the roids, and he did your nanny last night!” TO never saw it coming. ;8o)

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Cold and dreary was the night before Easter {and all through the Casa} but the moon was full and the Superdaddyman was sitting as his desk in the Superdaddycave deep in important research. As usual he was downloading large quantities of important research from alt.binaries.video.erotica.divx {for the articles of course} and wondering if this Easter would come and go without trouble. Ok realistically he didn’t expect the Easter Holiday to be without trouble but he at least hoped that his hiding place would hold long enough for him to get through it. That of course is for tomorrow.

He jumped to the window {pulled back the sash} and realized that it was the blazing red Superdaddyphone that had made him jump sky high {while pulling up his pants} and that phone hadn’t gone off for nearly 15 months. Knowing far too well that that phone only goes off in the direst of times and need, when nobody else can possibly be counted on to save the day, the Superdaddyman immediately attempted to compose himself. Lighting a cigarette and doing his breathing that the doctor taught him to use when the Evils’s were about to “get it” he grabbed the receiver and said “Hello?”

“Hey Es Dae this is Dubbya,” the voice on the other end started, but of course the Superdaddyman knew all too well who it had to be already, “We have another situation, that needs your immediate attention,” he finished off. “You see I was expectin’ the Easter Bunny to come over today to sit down and have a chat about the Easter egg hunt tomorrow, on the lawn and all,” which came the usual pause, “well yanno, it’s hard work,” he added before continuing, “Well he didn’t show, and I called Condi in to discuss strategy, and yanno how she gets …” which faded away as the Superdaddyman started dreaming of Condi showing up in a business skirt and playing out one of his Maniacal Dictator getting a spanking from the Secretary fantasies, “You done fanticizin’ so I can go on yet?”

After the Caped Pervader assured the President that he will stop him the next time his mind wanders he continued, “Ok so she was saying to me ‘Oh Gawd that means you’re going to call in that idiot again doesn’t it?’ and I remembered how you helped out with that whole Santa Claus thing,” which made Superdaddyman wonder if the president had been using some other idiot Superhero on the easy holidays, “So I have Air Force One on the way with Condi and a special operative that we are going to loan you, and she went home to get a ‘Hillary Clinton style’ pant suit before she left so don’t go there,” the President waited long enough to hear the Superdaddyman’s groan and then finished off by saying the usual, “It’s up to you Superdaddyman to save Easter, so you know what you are going to have to do,” and then waited for the bigger groan of acknowledgement before he hung up the receiver.

“Dammit, if it’s those Penguins again, I am going to sell their hides to the Laotians down the road,” exclaimed the Superdaddyman after he hung up the Superdaddyphone and then began the long march up the stairs from the Superdaddycave. Having to wake up the Evils’s early and try to convince them to use their powers to Evil in the hopes of saving mankind twice in the same decade has got to be written as a no no in the handbook. Using his superior mental skills he determined the best thing to do is to wake up the fiendish Imtoocutus first because it will make waking up all of the other ones a lot easier.

It didn’t take much as technically it should have been Easter morning when she woke up and the second the Superdaddyman touched her shoulder a sugar craven lunatic streaked out of the room like a lightning bolt screaming “CANDY CANDY CANDY! GET UP ITS EASTER! CANDY CANDY CANDY!” and within minutes two slightly larger burs started streaking around the entire Casa yelling “CANDY CANDY! MINE MINE! CANDY CANDY! MINE MINE!” which was to be expected but the terror didn’t start until the blurs stopped and became silent right at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the Superdaddyman, “Where’s the candy, and what did you tell the Easter bunny?”

Slightly afraid of the malice that was gleaning in their eyes the Superdaddyman very timidly said, “The Easter Bunny is missing and the President wants us to go find him,” followed by a weak smile.

It took almost a half an hour for Lazius Boycrazius to get off the phone with the union representative to see if they were even allowed to aid the Superdaddyman again. They had taken great heat from the Evils’s Union the last time that they had gone off on a mission of mercy, but had managed to convince the Union Steward {Lindsey Lohan} that it was in the best interests of the Union that they free the “Fat Man” as they had called him, and avoided the suspension, but they just aren’t taking the chances this time. It isn’t going to be any easier this time now that the Union has a new Steward {Amy Winehouse} who is very anti calorie. “She says that we can go, but you aren’t allowed to paste her head on skeletons and Ethiopians anymore and send it out to your Incredimail groups,” Lazius Boycrazius looked around in a sneaky manner and then added, “She probably thinks they make her look fat.”

As the Superdaddyman and the Evils’s jump out of the Superdaddyvan on the tarmac of the airport, Superdaddyman barely has time to shout “Look Out!” before the Evils’s knock Condi Rice over screaming up the stairs onto Air Force One. The sounds of expensive things being smashed and destroyed coming from the fuselage told them both immediately that the Evils’s had made themselves at home already. “So who is the secret operative that we are going with and what is the gameplan?” the Superdaddyman asked the Secretary of State as he groped … Um … Helped her up.

“The President used his privilege to ask a couple of his favorite athletes to come along to assist you,” Condi started which immediately had the Superdaddyman concerned. Any athlete from Texas is going to be full of themselves and incapable of working in a team environment, but two of them at the same time might cause outright discourse. “They prefer to be called Agent R and Agent REAL 81.”

“Oh cool so one of them is randy Moss!” the Superdaddyman exclaimed as he started walking up the stairs, but definitely noting the grunt that Condi gave, and it didn’t even appear to be from waving his hand away from her ass. “Oh Gawd it’s that other 81 isn’t it?” the Superdaddyman asked with a bit of a whine. Condi looked at him dolefully.

“Who here was talkin’ about Randy Moss?” came echoing from out of the plane, and the Superdaddyman stopped in his tracks the second he rounded the corner into the plane. There he was, sitting there with a pile of broken china all around him, Captain ADHD throwing a pile of it at him one plate at a time. CRASH! “Come on throw it to me kid,” Terrell Owens yelled at him and another plate went flying and slipped between his hands and hit the floor. “What’s your problem, I’m open, throw it here!” SMASH!

“He only drops them because they are important,” Condi said and then put her hands over her face, “Thank God he didn’t go to the Browns. It’s the only thing that’s gone right for me the last 6 years,” and then looked at the Superdaddyman and nodded along with him. “Ok you can touch my ass once but only because I’m sorry about the Terrell thing, but I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone.”

After a good grope the Superdaddyman started walking down the aisle making note of everything the Evils’s had managed to destroy and catching Imtoocutus by the scruff of the neck lazily as she tried to screech by. “Oh crap, what the hell is Roger Clemens sticking in his ass in the back of the plane,” he asked Condi after seeing who he feared was Agent R’s humongous rear end protruding from behind a seat.

“The Republican policy is that it is a Vitamin B-12 shot, and stop being nosey and listening to all the liars that say otherwise,” she said back to him before noting his glazed over stare back at her, “Ok you can get another goose for that one,” … To Be Continued

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I’m woken up this morning by Captain ADHD because Greektradgedius Inyiddish is taking him to the doctor. You see for the last year or so he has had this horrible cold sore that that comes and goes and it had been with each coming and going heading towards his chin. Well I hadn’t seen him clearly as it was a good 3 hours before I was supposed to get up so I didn’t actually know the extent of it, but I got out of futon and waited in my den for them to return.

When he came hopping in he had a large suction cup bow and arrow set, and a face covered with blisters from his eyes down his cheeks. The new toy signified bad news and pity, and the face full of blisters signified the obvious, but more data would have been good all the same. He looked a lot like he had a manifestation of chicken pox, or more along the lines of shingles, but in the wrong location. The news from GTY was that I was correct in my assumption the last time he had gone to the doctors for this, and to my horror it was herpes.

Now many of you will be happy to know that I knew absolutely nothing about herpes aside from the fact that you use it to joke about the skuzzy people you don’t like. I rather wanted to know what the doctor had said but it came out along the lines of, “Well I don’t know, she just said that he had herpes,” which was not exactly any guiding light as to what we were to do next. He was given a prescription for something I had seen commercials for on television, but my 9 year old son didn’t exactly fit the mold of the virginal looking girl holding hands with her boyfriend walking along the beach and talking about how happy she is that her outbreaks were less frequent using the product. I was at a loss, and more over I knew that my forecast for information was grim because we have to use the welfare doctors at the welfare doctor’s place. In other words, they probably didn’t know crap anyway and had some doctor code of secrecy with highly contagious social diseases which forbid them to talk to parents of patients anyway.

Of course I do like beating my head against walls and all, so I decided to call the doctor and at least find out what was going on. An hour later a nurse called me back and told me that he had herpes. I asked her what that involved, and she assured me that it involved that he had herpes. I pointed out to her that despite my lack of being able to afford a good doctor, I heard her the first time and if pressed I could actually spell herpes if she would like me to, but since I know ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY NOBODY with herpes I would like to have some information on what kind of herpes he has, and how we are supposed to treat it. She then explained to me that it was an HSV {Herpes Simplex Virus} and that he should wash his hands with soap and water often. I maintained silence in hopes that there was more information, and all that was offered was that she would send me the informational packet on herpes.

While sitting here patiently waiting for the mailman to arrive in a few days with an informational packet with some virginal looking girl holding hands with her boyfriend on a beach and thanking the fucking Lord that she has less outbreaks these days, I started looking online for information. My head hurts. I learned everything from cold sores, to canker sores, to chicken pox, to shingles, to genital herpes, to nasty pictures of people with lips the size of Volvo tires, to nothing really at all. This forced me to have to self educate myself and anyone who knows me knows that that is downright dangerous. Online you really find two types of herpes, Simplex One {inside and around the mouth} and Simplex Two {everywhere else} and as this has become more of an “Everywhere Else” I was forced to study genital herpes because that was the only “Everywhere Else” that didn’t involve Chicken Pox that was explained. UGH!

Now I had to loosely translate all of the “Genital Herpes” bullshit into a way to explain “Everywhere But” which included his face, neck and chest where the herpes was infesting, while learning all about and administering the medication with the picture of the virginal looking girl holding a different guys hand then the commercial and smiling big because she has a secret. Probably also smiling because guy number two looks bigger than guy number one, and lord knows guy number one was the bastard who gave her the secret to begin with, unless there was a guy number three or four. I had to explain to him that he needed to stop touching the blisters and wash his hands every time he did. The poor kid is already an emotional wreck because of his mother and now I am going to turn him into one of those overly clean gay men with a “cozy” for everything in his room I know it.

What slays me in all of this is that I often wonder {out fucking loud often too} what the end game in all of this shit is. I married a whore, had kids with issues, adopted another kid with issues, moved in with a grandmother with issues, watched her daughter and her husband move in with their damn issues, and even the fucking dog rubbing his ass across the carpet as GTIY calls it a cute trick has issues, and let’s not even go to the father that comes here once a month because of his issues. I have issues, and look now MORE ISSUES, and who in the name of Christ would have seen THESE ISSUES! Shit I have more issues than Sports Illustrated and barely half as entertaining, and if my mother shows up anytime soon I am going run away from home! ;8o)

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Great god of the sick and suffering, is all I can imagine at the moment. The little bastards finally got me and I spent most of yesterday throwing up bad. It had gotten to the point where I had to wear a baseball cap just to keep my hair out of my face for every purge. The timing of this couldn't have been any better either since I am now here at the airport typing this out on a phone waiting for my father to come in. nothing makes sick feel worse than standing in an airport looking like ass and having everyone staring at you like you carry the plague. I feel like a character in Freejack and the good news is that I feel like it wants to come out the other end now. The bad news is that while the plane is now very late it desperately wants to come out the other end now! I’ll shit my pants before I sit on an airport toilet so let the games begin.

I look forward to going to work tonight lugging too much as the insanity of my job responsibilities get out of hand coming home to sleep on the futon and waking up to a full house. The school department ruined my day off tomorrow by giving it to the kids too. I called the school pretending to be one of those over the top indignant atheists who was going to nail myself to the front of the school for them taking a religious holiday but it didn’t appear to work. The little bastards should have to spend the day in church to compensate for my sacrifice, and learn something about that other guy who died tomorrow I suppose. In all of this the only thing that really matters is that I make it to next week and all of the early hospital visits that I have to get my father to. Should it all go right then I will be off the hook for a while.

Work tonight should be a real treat actually. The warring factions are not impressed with my attitude of NOT taking on anything that isn’t specifically designated for me. Some people are making sure that the things that are specifically designated for me are all that more difficult and what I am doing in return is making sure that there isn’t enough time to do the things that make people happy. Sounds fair to me, and I am starting to think that everyone else might just crack before I do. Ignorance is actually bliss. My boss and I have maintained a certain level of non speaking that is reminiscent of growing up in my family, and perhaps he doesn’t realize that I am a trained professional at that. I completely enjoyed not getting around to cleaning up after everyone who abused the floor sweeper last night when I went home sick, and part of me dares anyone to say anything about it. Working on your retorts is pointless because they never seem to give you the opportunity to use them. Perhaps 38 years has taught me something after all.

Well as the plane has finally arrived 45 minutes late again, I might just make it home before I have to shit my pants. It’s all about the small victories yanno? Back at the Casa, I have settled my father in as best I can and we have gone over all of the eccentricities of passing a Florida driver’s test, which he had to go through when he went back this time. I have put all of the sheets and pillow cases in the washing machine in a vain attempt to keep him from having to deal with the plague that the children have spread throughout the house, while he rummaged through the refrigerator for leftovers. Actually he is very good for that, because with him here he cleans out most of the things that would sit in there until they rot while everyone expects me to eat them. Not that I mind leftovers and all but the callous way that people handle leftovers around here makes me ill really. Seriously, if you are going to waste all of the household money on the most expensive Ziploc bags and things, how about closing the fucking things? Hard cheese and sour leftovers don’t exactly make me want to open the refrigerator, and should I have the time, I might be forced to clean it this weekend as I think some people think the fact that you can’t get anything else in there actually means it is full.

On a lighter note, I have managed to get enough Staples Boxes and Shoe Boxes together to organize the place this weekend. If I am lucky then I can convince everyone that what I am doing down here all weekend is housework and at the best of time it would make everyone avoid me like the plague. I am thinking about doing a “Housecleaning” contest this weekend and getting the kids to clean the house by bribing them with all of the crap I have found around the house while cleaning. I found an iPod that I can’t stand, and a digital camera that I don’t use that the kids might actually work hard to get their hands on. The kids have always wanted iPods {because they are young and stupid} and they love digital cameras {but not enough to actually take care of them when they get them} and might give more effort. Again I might be dreaming, but as the kids will just end up with these things anyway by birthright I should attempt to get something out of it. Wish me luck ;8o)

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Everything happens quicker and more dazzling in New York. I have lived on the fringe of metro north east my whole life, and my loyalties have changed numerous times, but it was generally based on my location during the season. I was born in New Hampshire very close to the Massachusetts border, and a quick 40 minute trip south would put me in downtown Boston. On the other hand my mother left when I was very young and ended up living in Manhattan, so I spent my summers in New York City. As a typical boy, I liked sports and was a homer with a twist.

Football season was spent with my father and my grandfather who taught me all about football. As Patriots fans they taught me all about “losing football” and how to take the bad and find some good in it. Since the Patriots were always dreadful, you would take pride in the rivalries and how you could interfere with other team’s chances of success. It didn’t happen very often, but was like a fine wine if the Dolphins lost a critical game to the Patriots, or they kept the Jets out of the playoffs with a gritty win at the end of the year. It was fandom at its best really, and later on when the patriots started having success it just felt better.

Winters I was treated to the Bruins. Always good enough to be there, but never really good enough throughout my adolescence to be “the best” but like most Bruins fans, we simply acted like they were. They always had great players though. Cam Neely, Ray Bourque, and many other legendary players, played on “my” team every winter, and the lack of a championship never really made the world end. On the opposite days the Boston Garden held the Celtics which the last 10 years haven’t looked that great but when I was younger was the center of the basketball universe. If it weren’t for the Shaq – Colby mini dynasty that happened in the last decade getting the Lakers closer, no team really even came close to the amount of championship banners that you see hanging about the Celtics. The fact remains though even at this point where they finally reloaded for another run at more banners; it never felt like a funeral procession or reduced everyone to being classless.

Summers on the other hand was where it was all different, as I was trapped in the land of the enemy and taught baseball from my uncle {my mother’s second husband’s brother} and that meant that we hung out in Queens. He took me to Mets games whenever he could get away from work, and taught me a valuable lesson about baseball that was only humorous until recently, and that was “Stay away from the Yankees.”

Now don’t get me wrong. The Mets were either really good or really bad. They never managed to maintain a good season and pissed away anything they did foolishly, but the games were always entertaining. Baseball is a sport that you can enjoy for the players, and for the memories, and my Uncle Jim brought me to a Yankees game to show me the difference. It wasn’t a wasted trip, and we had much better seats at the Yankees game then we ever had at the Mets games. A guy out front sold us expensive seats for cheap money, which Jim pointed out to me was common as Yankees fans are extremely “fair weathered” so most of the tickets were being scalped cheap. The actual fans of the Yankees that had shown up were drunk, obnoxious, arrogant, and made the game miserable. Reggie Jackson was still playing at the time, and fans were booing him and throwing things at the outfielders on their own team! It was all I needed to see and we went back to our Mets games to cheer Doc Gooden and Daryl Strawberry and see some great baseball, even if the team lost.

When I was no longer going to New York, I switched my loyalty to the Red Sox, and was treated to watching the Red Sox blow the World Series to the Mets. I often joke about how I knew what it was like to be a Red Sox fan almost instantly. 86 years without a championship made red Sox fans a bit grim, but they were for the most part hopeful each year, and took it in stride like it was simply a good joke. The Grady Little experiment in 2002 ended in such diabolical tragedy that it actually was the first time that I had seen the Red Sox fans get rabid and angry to the point that most of the fans in New York liked to point out, and there was actually good reason for that. It was insulting to Red Sox fans in general to lose the ALCS the way they did, and it made the Yankees fans {as hard as it sounds} far worse.

Life went on, and the management of the Red Sox took that loss to heart every bit as bad as the fans did, and made all of the moves necessary to win the World Series. As much heart failure it gave to the Red Sox fans they probably did it in the greatest way possible by humiliating the Yankees, and becoming the first and only team to win a playoff series being down 3-0 and even better making the Yankees the only team to lose a series being up 3-0. I will say that most of the Yankees fans leaving Yankees stadium were far more gracious then what I expected, and a good number of them even hoped that the Red Sox won the series. I am man enough to admit that I have never wished that the Yankees would win a World Series.

Here’s the rub on all of this though as I look back and remember the treatment that the Red Sox used to always get about being “losers” and all of the chants of “1918” or “86 Years” or the myriad of other things they endured, and that was that it actually was a tragedy. 86 Years without a championship and constantly having your nose rubbed in it, and having the meat of every comment from the announcers remind you of that would get on anyone’s nerves. It became a self fulfilled prophecy that the Red Sox would have to be driven to win just one. When they did it was like a huge weight being taken off of their shoulders, but it still took 86 years to get there. We still enjoyed baseball for the game, and enjoyed our wins and were there for the losses. We cried about the payroll of the Yankees like everyone else does, and we considered ourselves underdogs based on that, and despite the fact that the Red Sox are successful now and the Yankees are not, they still are the underdog to the Yankees based on that factor.

Over the last ten years it has been hard to hate the Yankees believe it or not. They had great character guys like Jeeter and Posada, and most of the team that had won its last string of championships were brought up from their own farm system. Then there was the Joe Torre factor that came into account. You couldn’t hate him. I defy anyone to come up with bad words about him who isn’t a current Yankees fan. I also happen to be a George Steinbrenner fan. The guy did what he could to win championships and any fan of baseball would have loved to have him as their owner. I am a bit jaded too because he calls the Boston sports station every year on their “Jimmy Fund” telethon day, donates 100,000 dollars and then answers phone calls from Red Sox fans for an hour. Seriously, the guy has class, and he usually gets complete respect from the fans in Boston that get to talk to him each year. I will actually miss him, but on the other hand, as a fan of the Red Sox, I am glad he retired, Torre is gone, and the Yankees look bad.

I am also happy that Hank Steinbrenner is an uncharismatic moron, Joe Girardi is an immature, overly emotional hothead with far less baseball knowledge than he gets credit for, and A-Rod made himself and the Yankees look bad all off season. Now that the Yankees are 9 years removed from a World Series Championship they make the Red Sox fans who were 86 years without look like they won every one. The infantile complaining coming from the New York fan base coupled with the ignorant comments coming from the new owner is refreshing, and makes hating the Yankees a lot more refreshing. Their behavior throughout this Spring Training is almost hilarious, and the fact that they no longer have a good manager makes it like a never ending shower of lemonade. The only thing that the Yankees fans having going for them in all of this, is that I finally think that the new “us against the world” mentality that the team is displaying has finally caught up with the times. Most baseball fans have two favorite teams, and one of them is usually “anybody playing the Yankees” but that doesn’t mean that crying about everything makes up for it. Girardi’s behavior already has made me laugh out loud at times because he must seriously think that players on other teams fighting for a job are only supposed to do so against other teams.

I am not just going to pile on here {although it is tempting} because I am a man of solutions. I want to help out where I can, and I have some advice for Hank and Joe, even though I plan to enjoy the collapse of the Yankees until they both actually get it. First for Hank I would just like to say that admitting reality is easier than making it up. Yes “Red Sox Nation” is an anomaly and it will go away sooner or later, but bringing it up and making it look like less than it is just gives it more life. Even though at one time there were more Yankees fans than any other team there were always more Yankees haters than fans. That’s what success does, and nothing put more people in Red Sox caps then demonstrating like you did that it bothers you. Since you own the YES network take a few minutes to watch some of the Yankees home games and see how many of the “Non Yankee” but not exactly “Red Sox” fans are buying the cheap scalped tickets out front and walking in with Red Sox hats just to make a statement. It might open your eyes a bit.

Secondly for the new “Joe” in town, you better get a thick skin buddy, and you better start watching some old tape yourself. As a catcher, you weren’t a bad player, but you seem to have forgotten what it was like to play on a team that doesn’t get everything it needs to choke in the playoffs from the opening of Spring Training. You may want to take your catcher aside and teach him how NOT to completely block the plate during a Spring Training game against a team full of people that may NEVER play in the major Leagues. Pitching a fit because YOUR catcher blocked the plate completely while a kid from the Tampa Bay Rays who is DESPERATE to get noticed by somebody is suicide! That kid has to get to the plate, and there is only one way to do it and GOOD players will do anything to get there. He crushed your catcher and it was YOUR catcher’s fault. While you’re at it teach your short stop to stay off second base and not on top of it. All of the good managers in baseball {meaning those that weren’t fired for killing a great pitching staff despite winning an award} are taking notes on how to get under your skin and you made it too easy.

Thirdly {and most importantly} it is great to have intensity, and get into a brawl once in a while to remind the other team that you aren’t their bitch, but the operative word here is bitch. Stop getting into brawls every other game and then having everyone from the ball boy to the owner of the team whine about how it is jealousy that everyone hates you. It is jealousy that everyone hates you, but to maintain that you need to be above it, or else you become everyone’s bitch. I saw this last year when Jaba Chamberlain was trying to hit Red Sox players in a game that was already lost by the Red Sox. The correct response from Terry Francona was to state clearly “Chamberlain doesn’t have to worry if we know who he is now,” and then go on to win the World Series. Now if the Bronx Brawlers can get that type of intensity that they have in the scrum, or in the media they might just make a season out of it, but as they are currently constituted they may find themselves in third this year within their own division. I learned these things watching the bad teams, but Hank and Joe might have that opportunity soon enough ;8o)

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The Twins of Kane – Exodus 2.9

The impact of the rock hurt. Actually the impact of the rock just hurt, and nothing more. The fact that it looked like a bullet while it was screaming at my stomach, but felt more like a sharp rock being thrown from a long distance, barely reaching its target, as it should have made me intensely angry. Totally enraged would be a more suitable description of it, because like it was purely instinctive I started running towards Ricky like I was shot from a gun myself. As I look back on it all I can remember is that I was going to kill him. I think about it and I don’t even know how I was going to do it, I was just going to kill him and it was all I could think of. The look of horror on his face as I was running down the street would have told me that he knew I was going to kill him, and he couldn’t stop me from doing it.

The indignation that he “thought” he was going to kill me, or disable me with that rock must have been the factor that was flooding my brain. The fact that he couldn’t do it, or had made it look like he could was the furthest thing from my mind. I had no pity. I had no mercy. I had no insufferable maternal need to care for a boy that had been my son’s best friend. I had intense fury and a need to kill that very boy. He dropped to the ground in the fetal position as I was bearing down to start striking him, inflicting pain, killing. My mind was flooded with the most horrific images of slaughtering him, and I might have anyway if it wasn’t for the arm that grabbed me and threw me into the lawn before I reached him.

Lou was standing over him and his body was quaking on the ground. He turned to look at me as I was sitting up from where he had thrown me. When he turned to look at Ricky he started muttering in a language that I couldn’t understand at all, and Ricky’s body shook even more before he started wailing loudly. It sounded like he was crying like he had never cried before, and was now making up for all of the years that he should of. It was sickening to me actually, and my heart was practically falling out of its place within my chest as I heard it. Lou walked away from him and over to me, but shocked and horrified by the scene I started crawling away from him.

“You shouldn’t fear me Stacy,” he said as he held out his hand. “That’s the secret to all of it,” he then added as he walked towards me, and the curiosity of it caused me to stop crawling. Looking up at him, I think I understood what he had said from my years of being trapped in Sunday school. “Ricky is terrified because he finally realized that he has nothing aside from the knowledge that he will have to face my world in the afterlife.”

I didn’t take his hand, but I did get to my feet and looked him in the eyes. Don’t get me wrong, it is still terrifying looking at the most beautiful man that ever crossed my path, and have to remember that he isn’t. I remembered that I wasn’t afraid of him though because that is the first sign of subservience. “What the hell did you do to him?” I demanded in a hiss as I continued to look strait at him.

Lou stopped walking and looked straight into my eyes. He was probably trying to test my resolve but it was pretty weak in my mind. “That’s the first sign that you aren’t corrupted. You care about someone who had almost hijacked your emotions into committing the type of evil that would have fractured your soul beyond repair,” he said in an almost bored voice as he started walking again. I didn’t follow him, and I didn’t reply. Part of me thinks that this drives him crazy when I do this, and the fact that he turned around and started talking again rather proved it. “As I said before, all he has is the ability to deceive others. He hasn’t gotten any real advantage from the pact he made with an angel. Her angels wouldn’t make such pacts, or I should say that none of them have since I was foolish enough to do it,” his face looked rather angry when he finished his thought, “I made a wonderful example to any of the other angels, and giving your soul to anyone other than God means you get a one way ticket to Hell, whether I want the soul or not. He and I have both have made a bad decision and it is ruining eternity for us, but that doesn’t mean either of us deserve pity.”

A part of me wanted to tell him that he was heartless, but it didn’t feel right to say. I was wondering why he knocked me out of the way, but the wailing coming from Ricky even as the distance between myself and him was accumulating was drowning out all of my sensible thought. My anger was completely gone, but unfortunately without it the confusion came back. Anger must be something that is clarifying, but then again it wasn’t properly displayed at the time either, so I asked, “Why did you stop me from attacking him?”

Lou didn’t even hesitate to answer that, “I felt responsible for it,” but he left it at that as we continued to walk away. I looked over my shoulder to see if Ricky had gotten up because I couldn’t hear his wailing anymore. He was still laying there but had apparently just stopped. “He’ll probably live a long life if he cherishes it. I told him that if he gets in my way, I can strike him dead,” he paused for a few seconds because I had gasped, “I already explained to you that I can take the souls that are going to me whenever I want to, but I didn’t explain that to him. How he lives the rest of his life, and the longevity of it is all his choice.”

“Why do you feel responsible for my wanting to kill him?” I asked because if anything I have learned to stay focused on my questions and not let him lead me off in other directions. I was starting to feel at that point he may have been incapable of outright lying himself, but completely capable of deception like his minion. He didn’t respond to my question this time at all and just kept walking. I was following along beside him for the time being, and even repeated my question, but again he gave me no response. “Why don’t you just lie to me then instead of giving me the silent treatment?”

“Lying is a waste of breath,” he said again sounding almost bored. “While I walk on this world with you, I breathe, I eat, and I have to maintain most of the physical laws that mortals cling to,” he stopped and looked quizzically at the fork in the road. “I have many things as you have seen that remain omnipotent as well like knowledge, strength, and other things that aren’t really important. Unlike yourself, I cannot defy time, and space, and because of that I have determined that it is a bad idea to lie to you because I can’t stay a step ahead of you like I can every other mortal,” he acknowledged the puzzled look on my face with a smile and then added, “Think about it for a while, but as a gift I will tell you that my charm and extreme beauty come at a cost to those around me. It creates instant insane need for those around me to cross into the realms of the deadly sins. You appear to be prone to wrath and invidia, and I didn’t think it was fair to you that I intensify those things to your cost.”

Again I was at a loss for words, and started walking ahead of Lou. I could hear his footsteps behind me, but I didn’t want to look over my shoulder to see him. Most of this was because I didn’t actually know what invidia meant. A little further down the dirt road I stopped hearing the crunching of his footsteps, but continued to walk along without looking back, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned around really quickly to see Lou standing there about the same distance that he was when I stopped hearing his footsteps. He actually looked shocked as I asked him “I imagine this is an example of other things?”

His face broke into a smile before he said to me, “It is and it isn’t. I can mask my footsteps with your own like I can anyone else, but I can’t get away before you see me, and I think it is because you aren’t doing it.” … To be continued

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The Slammer – An Ever Growing Web Novel – Chapter 5.1

The umpire was standing there tapping his foot after trying to clear the conference on the mound. He’s not particularly happy with the pair since they have been conferencing far too much over the last few innings. He signaled to the manager, and Tug started huffing and puffing his way out to the mound. “Look, you need to take yourself out of this game,” Lily exclaimed to the middle aged man standing in front of her acting like a 6 year old. “Your cutter won’t cut, your sinker won’t sink, your curve ball won’t curve, and that fast ball is starting to look like it is on a tee Jack!”

“I still have my slider,” he started retorting back as Tug made it to the mound. Jack got quiet at this point, and looked at him with a “Who invited you?” sort of expression on his face.

“Your slider actually slides, but it’s so far off the plate that the guys in the on deck circle are going to start slugging it pretty soon!” she looked over at Tug who was nodding at her, in a way that was telling her to continue. This obviously is the dynamic here because as Lily has noticed, Tug doesn’t have the pull with Jack that she does, and the sarcasm works too, “The worst part is that the on deck batters will knock that slider out of the park because it was never your best pitch Jack,” again she looked at Tug and grimaced, “We spotted you 7 runs Jack and you’ve almost given them all back, let someone else get you this win ok?”

Jack threw the ball strait at the ground and started marching with his head down towards the dugout. The crowd was cheering him, probably more for his tenacity than anything else. Six innings of mediocre pitching followed by two innings of atrocious pitching has the worst team in baseball within one run of tying a game that they had no business even being involved in? The bases being loaded didn’t make anyone very comfortable despite the two outs that were fortunately hit very hard to where people were standing at the time. The fans weren’t looking forward to such a flat performance coming back from All-Star break.

“He’s heading straight to the locker room Lily, can you talk to him after the game?” Tug asked Lily as she nodded at him, “He’s never really had to deal with the concept that he’s old, and he’s aging before our eyes,” his eyes were looking towards the outfield where the relief pitcher was starting to make his way in from the bullpen. “You probably haven’t dealt with many guys that are at the end, so make sure that you tell him that the last couple of innings can cost him his next start if he ends up hurting himself. It’s best to just get out and get your rest started,” and again Lily nodded.

“We better pray that Sebago gets that last out, because if he lets any of those runs in Jack will close up and assume he could have gotten out of that jam,” Lily stated as Sebago took the mound.

Tug handed Sebago the ball and looked towards the kid swinging the bat just outside of the batter’s box. Looking back at Sebago he said clearly, “That kid was in our farm system, and he can’t hit high fast balls, but loves swinging at them.”

“That’s what I was going to call, so you know what we’re doing Seth,” Lily said while tapping his glove with hers. She could see his smile because riding fast balls are his game, and it seems to be too easy today.

It didn’t really matter as the team put another 6 runs on them in the next inning so that the Red Sox had won pretty easily, but that wasn’t the point. Lily hugged her team mates, and then immediately started thinking about how he was going to deal with Jack. The team needs him, and he needs to understand that he’s going to be throwing in at least another sixteen games in the regular season alone. How to convey to him that tearing himself open along the way, will greatly reduce his chances of doing that is going to be a problem. His ego isn’t as bad as most pitchers off the mound but to be a successful pitcher as long as he has been then it would have to be when he is on it. This is where she has to guess right.

Lily heard the faint yelling of John from somewhere in the crowd. It was interesting how she was able to hone in on it actually because small ball parks like Fenway are impossible to hear anything after a win. It was a lousy game, but still in dispute throughout so most of the fans was just starting to funnel out now. When she finally spotted him, he was making his way down to the back of the dugout with Chris in tow. “Lily, hold up!”

She demonstrated her un-ladylike nature by climbing up the screening beside the dugout and stood on top of the dugout. Fans saw this and started scurrying over to her, and Lily realized that perhaps it wasn’t a smart idea to do this. Her good natured approach to signing autographs as everyone started holding things out to her made Chris smile. Actually everything makes Chris smile as it pertains to Lily but this is one of those things that makes him smile a bit more. She was correct to just sign autographs though and John was able to squeeze through the small crowd when she asked them all to let him through easy enough. “What’s up John?” she asked him through all of the muttering autograph requests.

“Let me deal with Jack,” he said being rather blunt. Chris was starting to sign autographs now, which made John and Lily look at him confused, but John continued with Lily, “I could tell you to go in there and start yelling at him like you were his mother, and it would probably work, but I think it is just easier if I took him out alone and had one of our brotherly talks about it,” he glanced over at Chris still signing autographs and he was drawing a bigger crowd than Lily now. “Do me a favor and take the celebrity over there out with you and Jay tonight so I have time to talk to Jack,” he stopped a minute at her raised eyebrows, and then added, “you haven’t realized that he doesn’t have many friends yet?”

Lily grimaced a bit and took another look over at Chris. Her crowd had slipped away but he still had about fourteen girls around him. One had just asked him to sign her chest, and then turned to show all of the others. “I hate to break this up, but Chris and I have to get out of here,” and she noticed all of the girls looking at her like she was something foul on the bottom of their shoes.

Chris nervously started heading towards Lily telling the crowd that he had to go with them and blew kisses to some of the girls. He was starting to turn a brilliant shade of red, as he approached them. The girls walked away sulking. “What was that all about?” John asked him as he got closer.

Chris looked at them both, now basically alone, standing on top of the home team dugout, arms crossed. “Well, they .. um …” came out, but he had a guilty look on his face when he continued, “They seemed to think that I was in the Dropkick Murphy’s,” and then a blush came across his face as Lily looked at him like he had never seen her look at him before. He spluttered along, “Hey, at first I thought it would help you out with everyone crowding around me,” and when Lily’s look changed a bit he admitted, “I liked it though, so I played along.”

Lily kept looking at him strangely, and it made him nervous, but he tried to continue to act cool. Lily said to John without taking her eyes off of Chris, “Yeah, you deal with Jack, and I’ll take Romeo here out with us,” and she gave a little grin. Chris didn’t realize that she finally realized that he was an attractive guy, and she might have actually been jealous. … to be continued

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Another Saturday ruined by the bad weather and I had promised the Captain and Imtoocutus that I would start baseball training this weekend. Pouring outside, I decided that the best Saturday activity for us was to make dinner. This isn’t easy when doing it with both of them so I had to make something that satisfied them both. It had to be rather complicated, so that the Captain could learn something, and it had to be pretty and taste like a hot dog when it was done or else Imtoocutus would bitch. Needless to say we got one out of two on the last demand, but I did think up an old recipe that I used to do and changed it around a bit to fill in many bills.

Now Captain ADHD likes to learn things and he is fascinated with Spanish language subjects, so I figured it was best to make something traditionally Spanish {not Mexican} in a way that was affordable, and moderately time consuming. Paella {“Frying Pan” in Valencian … Recipe Below} came to mind because it usually has the possibility of making everyone happy. It also gives me the opportunity to teach the Captain how to use knives on sausage, onions, and peppers, and how to use the oven properly, and the other side it looks pretty. We all went to Wal-Mart to pick up the stuff to make it {since hardly any of it is common household} after we made the list of things we would need.

At Wal-Mart the Captain took great interest in purchasing fresh seafood. This isn’t one of the parts that he is usually in, so explaining the different types of shrimp kept him stationary. Amazingly he and his sister were a heck of a lot better at finding unusual things too like jarred pimentos, minced garlic, and saffron, and I might still be there if they hadn’t helped. In the end we decided not to use saffron because the price of it has gotten insane, and I think I would rather invest in platinum. The total cost without the saffron came to almost 40 bucks {because we used fresh shrimp and crab} and if I had chosen to use the saffron it would have been about 55.

The hardest part of it all believe it or not is the cutting safety because the Captain is left handed and it confuses his little 9 year old brain being trained by a right handed person. This is how baseball would have gone today too. Fortunately he really responds to intricate direction a lot better than the girls, so being told to saw slow, curl your fingers, etc works really well and has him intrigued. He absorbs everything you tell him as long as his hands are busy, so while we were cutting, chopping, peeling, et al he was storing it all for his presentation when everyone was ready to eat. He explained “Frying Pan” and even told them of the different ingredients that we could have used, and why we chose to go heavier on the seafood. It was an interesting non disaster actually even if it took us most of the day.

My Version of Paella {Including Variations} …

Ingredients … Phase 1

1 Pound Cooked Shrimp {The Bigger the Better … I Took the Shell off First}
½ Pound Crab or lobster meat {Cooked - I use imitation crab because I like it better}
1 Teaspoon Chopped Garlic {1 clove}
1 Small Spanish Onion {Chopped}
1 Tablespoon Chopped Parsley {Dried are fine}
½ Cup Vegetable Oil
½ Can Beer {NOT LIGHT! Save the other Half for Chicken .. White Wine is OK too}

Mix everything here together in a big bowl and allow it to sit and marinade for at least 2 hours covered. You can use grilled chicken if you don’t like seafood or want to save some money.

Ingredients … Phase 2

5 Chorizo Sausages {Cut into 1 inch pieces}
1 Large Spanish Onion {Chopped}
3 Colored Peppers {I use Orange, Yellow and Red .. Chopped}
1 Teaspoon Chopped Garlic {1 clove}
2 Cups Brown Rice {Instant .. Cooked}
1 Teaspoon Saffron Threads {Can Go Without .. Too Expensive}
2 Cups Chicken Broth {Or Clam Broth}

Lay all of the Chorizo flat in the frying pan and start the heat on high. When you get a slight burning on the one side then the pan is greased, and the texture of the sausage is correct. Add the onion, peppers, and garlic and sauté them until they are all cooked well, but still a bit crisp. It should smell very Spanish by this point. Add rice, broth and saffron at this point and bring it to a boil. Bring to a very low simmer and cover for 30 minutes.

Ingredients … Phase 3

½ Pound Steamed Mussels and/or Clams {I didn’t use these … Kids yanno?}
8 Lobster Claws {Ditto .. Too pricey}
2 Cans Artichoke Hearts {Quartered}
1 Jar Whole Pimentos {Drained}
1 Small can Sliced Black Olives {Drained}
½ Cup Cooked Peas

Now the proper way to do this is to dump Phase 1 on top of phase 2 in the pan and then arrange phase 3 in a decorative manner on top of it all. Cover it up and let it simmer for about 20 minutes so that the decorations can cook a bit in the steam. Serve it in the pan.

Here’s what I actually do. I pour Phase 2 into a large bowl. I flash fry on high heat phase 1 {cooks out the alcohol} and then pour it on top of phase 2 and then decorate with phase 3 and serve it that way. I also broil about 8 to 12 chicken legs {on a broil rack, brushing a ½ can beer, ¼ cup oil, 1 clove garlic marinade on them every 10 minutes. 20 minutes one side, ten minutes the other} and serve those on the side of this dish.

Please keep in mind that I don’t use salt and pepper when I make this but most people add it as they go based on their own tastes. Enjoy ;8o)

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Well somehow I managed to save up a small nest egg and was applying it to getting myself in order financially. Life isn’t all about screwing with the credit card and credit reporting agencies after all. Part of my working on my financial security these days is by staying ahead of the flow. I’m not wealthy but I have somehow managed to crawl out of my poverty that was created by my injury, divorce and custody battle, and have become a bit of a finance hawk. This of course is how my father got started, so I am trying to take a page out of his book and balance it all a bit better. It was time to start buttoning up a different angle of my life, and that means my appearance.

The last time I had bought new clothes was because I was on my way to Seattle, and that was quite a few years ago. It predated my injury as a matter of fact. I added to what apparel I had in bits and pieces through Wal-Mart. Things like shoes, socks and underwear needed to be replaced more frequently than jeans, and shirts. There was another problem in all of this which is the fact that I am a pack rat and accumulate free clothes and never get rid of them. Sunday night I had decided it was time to take a few hundred dollars and redo my wardrobe, but it was inspired by being sick of owning cheap shoes. While looking online to purchase a pair of my favorite shoes {Merrel} which I haven’t owned in at least a year, I went a bit crazy.

After deciding that I wanted more than a plain black pair of Merrels I actually ended up purchasing 3 pairs in different colors, which cost me about 180 dollars. Now for me that is a huge investment, especially on shoes, but I had the money and figured I will just get myself set up in that department. As I was sitting here in my pants that have been uncomfortably too tight I decided to get some of those too. I purchased 6 pairs of Wrangler jeans and 6 new baseball shirts. Socks I didn’t need because I have always made sure I had 100 pairs of socks and underwear at all times. Growing up rarely ever having these things obviously damaged me, but the second one gets a hole I throw it away and replace it with 6 more pairs. As I was going up in size on my jeans I decided to get a nice belt, and a new “wired” back pack, for my dozens of tech things I have to have on me at all times. Pretty boring, I know, but it was over 350 dollars worth of decisions which for me is pretty bold.

The clothes showed up today, which was pretty surprising, but it was time to take on the other reason I was doing all of this. I squeezed open the drawers on my dresser and looked in on the mess of clothes that had been piled up over the last few years and no longer fit in there. I felt like a slob because I always had to keep a laundry basket full of clothes in front of the dresser, and the scary part was that when I got into the back of it all there were actually a lot of good clothes that I never wore because they were hidden behind crap. I used the huge box that the clothes came in to throw all of the clothes on the way out away. The trick here was to be all encompassing, since I hate throwing clothes to the Goodwill people, and have a collection of shit clothes that would rival almost anyone.

I decided that I only needed 2 Patriots shirts and eliminated the 12 that had holes in them. I only needed 2 Red Sox shirts and eliminated the 8 that had holes in them or showed off my baseball fan style beer belly all too well. I eliminated the 2 dozen t-shirts that various political candidates had given me over the years {all of which had lost sooner or later} and the 2 dozen bowling shirts with various teams I had been on, or competitions I had competed in. They were all no longer reasonably nostalgic. Then the jeans I had been saving because I was going to be that size again someday. Some of those sizes weren’t very healthy when I was that size anyway. Now it was a bit scary that all of my things {including the new ones} could have fit comfortably in 1 drawer. It felt good though. ;8o)

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An ode to a long night should be the surname of this post, but I like crazier titles. Last night I was sleep walking my way through work and was looking forward to getting home and sleeping. Sunday I had basically threatened to eat my own body weight in chicken fried steak {birthday dinner yanno?} and had come pretty close to doing so. It’s about the only real pleasure I have in getting a year older is that I can eat whatever the hell I want without too many people getting on my case about it. The disadvantage is I rarely get any sympathy for being an old Alka Seltzer commercial {I can’t believe I ate the whoooooole thing …} when my body decides to get revenge on me the next day. Oh well, life goes on.

Ravaging through my e-mail {since I have felt like writing a lot more lately} I ran between the bathroom and the computer for about 30 minutes before I could actually get into bed and watch the remains of “Tim Gunn’s Guide to Fashion” {I’m not gay damnit!} and hopefully let the Tylenol PM take me. The pounding on the door was the only thing that stopped this brilliant plan, as the good Captain {ADHD} was barking to me between hurls, “Dad … I’m … Sick …” and unfortunately it woke me up. Opening the door simply brought the amazing stench of vomit {nothing smells as bad as puke!} that covered the other side of the door strait to my nostrils, and under the guise of “concerned father” I was able to run to the bathroom and get rid of what was left of the chicken fried steak from the night before.

In this case there are advantages and disadvantages of dealing with a 3 and a half foot genius, and it is often complicated by the fact that I was felling no better than he was and had to compensate for that. The trick is to keep him up to speed with how adults would deal with the situation, and he usually thrives under the stimulus of learning something. Now all we need is an adult, and it would all be simple huh? In the absence of an actual adult it is time for me to fool him into thinking that I am one, and here is how I did it.

I took his waste basket, and filled the bottom of it with trash liners. Placed it beside his bed and explained to him that when he threw up he would need to finish up and then throw the bag away in the big trash can up in my office, then replace the bag. My thinking was that nobody is going to feel any better repeatedly sticking their head in a bin full of smelly puke. I gave him a cool washcloth and told him to wash his face off afterwards and I took him into the bathroom and showed him how to rinse it out afterwards. I gave him a can of {caffeine free} Pepsi and told him to drink about a quarter of the can each time afterwards. Explained how it would get the taste out of his mouth and the carbon dioxide, and sugar would help him when he threw up again {and explained that he would but it is just getting rid of it all} and by this time {you guessed it} he was bored to tears and ready to fall asleep.

Now as I had said before, he went to school and I was surprised to even know he had. I had instructed him to tell his grandmother that he should just stay home. Apparently he was a little trooper and felt that he should go to school, and as always I didn’t see the real reason that he had gone to school until it was upon me. The really hot secretary at the school walked up to me {yeah, me, strait out of bed, hair in knots, pillow marks on my face from the drool, eye boogers for all I know} with a doe-like look on her face telling me about how the Captain had explained to her how “Daddy” had taken care of him the night before. This is something that he does when he learns something “adult like” as he goes around and tells anyone and everyone about it. His hot as all hell teacher was in the nurse’s office to tell me this, and the school nurse {not hot, very old} was complimenting me on my approach the night before.

For anyone new to this type of Superdaddydrama, this is a typical school type moment for me. I walk in there taking care of some sort of catastrophe {usually caused by Captain ADHD, but Imtoocutus is starting to catch up} looking my absolute worst, feeling like crap, frustrated, unable to conduct myself in a civilized manner, and somehow getting Single Daddy sympathy from women who hate their own husband or ex husband. The “Oooo distressed male” factor wears off so I ignore it optimally. I have assumed over the years that after the veil of interest and sympathy wears off, what is left is the memory that I looked like crap and probably smelled bad. It works best that way, and fortunately with Lazius Boycrazius in High School I don’t have to worry about the child that actually was actively trying to fix me up with all of the women around the school anymore. It’s not cool anymore at that age, and the school doesn’t call me up and make me come in for every little thing.

It wasn’t even that easy realistically because this also happened to be Town elections day, so on top of all of the usual school people I had to walk through looking like hell, I had to deal with all of the people that had nothing better to do than vote on zoning, and tax planning referendums. I figured that while I was there I might as well go in and vote “No” to everything with the good Captain there to possibly learn something as well. We stood in line while he explained to everyone how daddy taught him to be sick properly, until they handed me the 5 {yes 5, five, cinco, V} freaking ballots full of questions about retirement home zoning and taxes. I’m pretty sure that the only thing he learned was colorful Saxony words for stupid ballot questions, as I scribbled in the “No” dots as fast as I could. There is nothing worse than 65 retirement home referendums on a ballot either because it means that angry AARP members are all over the place acting like hooligans.

I took this opportunity to point out to the Captain that daddy always votes “N