By Any Other Name

Not having Destiny at his side was difficult to get readjusted to. Kevin, had learned a lot about how truly large the world was by hearing Destiny’s descriptions. He missed her, not only the long talks about everything, but also her unique insights. She wasn't impressed with his Zippo lighter skills, or his massive biceps, she seemed to thoroughly enjoy playing in his hair, but the things other women liked about him underwhelmed her.

Kevin, was trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He was skating through his existence and he had to do something about it. Kevin had begun thinking about going to college and had decided to check out some of the campuses in the city. Destiny, had made him really think and while he could not phantom what he would study in college he felt as if going to college would change him from just a bumpkin from Alabama.

When he began searching for a college to attend, Kevin had no idea what to look for.  He hadn’t chosen a major, so he didn’t know if the school would be a good fit for his field of study.  Kevin tried to think of an occupation that he would enjoy doing, something that going to college would assist him with. The fact was that he had never even seriously considered a career, if he had money to take care of his needs Kevin had felt as if he didn’t need a career.

So instead of researching the colleges based on what they had to offer, he just popped up on the campuses. Kevin gave no thought to what schools of study, a university might specialize in, the entire ideal of attending additional school had always been a foreign concept to Kevin. All he knew was that he didn’t want to keep working at Walmart and throwing parties.  The first school he visited was Xavier University a HBCU that was also a private Catholic college.  

Kevin parked his Park Avenue and walked around the small college campus. There were few students on campus, but he didn't know that. The addiction was instant, every direction that he turned in, his eyes saw yet another beautiful woman. He approached one of the maybe 20 women crossing the school’s yard. “Excuse me ma'am I promise I'm not a weirdo I'm just trying to figure out more about this school. What do you study?”  She had to be 6ft tall because her Halle Berry hair cut was right at his shoulder, she had a thin European nose, which highlighted her full African lips and her skin was the color of Hershey’s Quick. “Poly-Sci” she responded in a lilting accent Kevin had never heard anything like. He had heard her response but had no more notion of what she was talking about. She saw his puzzled expression. “Political Science. “Kevin, wanted to ask her where she was from, but he didn't want to embarrass himself.

“You're not really interested in going to school here!” Her accent drew him in, that and the fact that he couldn't stop looking at her. She was stunning. Her cheekbones were the most defined he could recall, she had a Smokey hypnotic quality to her eyes which slanted slightly down. He continued the conversation. “Why do say that?” She had crossed her arms. “Never a good sign!” Kevin thought. The Political Science major, unfolded her arms and began checking off her evidence.  “You don't have any reference material.”  One of her graceful index fingernails clicked against another. “Two it's the Thanksgiving break. No one would come to check out a school when school is out.”  Kevin had forgotten the holidays were approaching. He had been thinking about other things, actually other people. Namely Destiny.

The beautiful woman was making her point, and Kevin was loving each minute. “Third you don't sound like a Student. If you had gold teeth I'd say you were a local.” Kevin delivered the smoothest line of his young life.  “I would say that your career should be in Criminal justice, you're a heck of detective. Your observations are keen. I would feel safe knowing you were solving crime.” He extended his hand. “I'm Kevin.  I really did come to learn more about the school though, I am ashamed to admit.” She was hesitant to take the proffered appendage.

Kevin stood with his hand extended for about 10 seconds before she shook it. “Eddel.” She offered her name. Kevin had been reading the “Times Picayune” and he started to ask questions about the “climate of local politics” and he was pleased with Eddel’s responses. Kevin, still was dubious about asking where Eddel was from. “Do you mind showing me around?“ Eddel didn't mind, even though she thought that the handsome young man wasn't seriously considering attending.

Eddel was from Eritrea, a country off the horn of Africa that had just gained its independence from Ethiopia. Kevin, didn't know the term for it but he discovered he was a Sapiosexual, intrigued by the amount of information available and excited by women who were brilliant. He marveled that he had ever been satisfied with Butler Alabama.

Kevin learned that most of the students who were still on campus were like Eddel, to far from home for a week-long trip, or simply waiting until Christmas break. He liked her company, and she was beautiful. Kevin, found her fashion choices questionable as her body was indiscernible beneath the baggy garb. Before he knew it, he had volunteered to feed her Thanksgiving dinner.

Both of his jobs gave Kevin a longer than usual respite, and he had finally got into the feeling of the holidays. He decided to make a traditional New Orleans dish and seafood dressing stuffed Turducken won a menu spot. He grabbed exotic peppers and onions for his potato salad. He accompanied the already substantial meal with baked Mac and cheese, green beans, and candied yams.

Kevin liked having somebody to talk to again. Eddel was an excellent conversationalist, add her clipped perfectly enunciated English and she was a passable replacement for who he would rather be spending the holidays with.

It wasn't malice that made him toy with the beautiful woman's emotions, but his own emotional immaturity. Kevin, unable to sort out his own feelings about Destiny had inadvertently sought a substitute. None of that touched his conscious mind.

Kevin watched her movements, and the curves that were hidden by her loose-fitting clothes. Eddel was magnificent. She was the guard on the Gold nuggets basketball team, she also ran the 400 meters on their track and field team. He wanted to see what she looked like beneath those baggy, slack garments. Kevin decided that if he had to he would go to a track meet or basketball game, if that is what he had to do to see what her body looked like.

While he was willing to go to such extreme measures, he was planning on seeing her naked that night.  After hours of preparing food, cooking, baking, and enjoying intellectually challenging conversation.  Kevin decided he would make a move after dinner. 

The meal was spectacular and the vibe between Eddel and Kevin was easy and relaxed.  Somewhere between the desert and the wine the pair wound up in Kevin’s bed. Eddel was an extremely vocal lover and their noises spilled from the room in waves. So much so that Kevin didn’t hear the key turn in his front door or the sob that choked from Destiny’s throat as she discovered that Kevin had wasted no time in finding a bed partner.

The following day, Kevin awoke feeling great. He and his Etrian athlete had worked up an appetite and he felt like making a huge breakfast. Kevin hadn’t even finished making his morning coffee when he discovered his spare key atop an application for a passport.  

The saddest man in America

Even Adams believed he was being a vindictive little shit.

 He had been shocked to see his uncle; who everybody thought was so strong, break down.

 He not only filmed it but had added commentary and streamed it live on social media. The subsequent events had set the internet aflame.

 The thing that stood out to America at large wasn't the fight where his cousin beat him un-mercifully. Or the fact that his uncle's bodyguard friends had been forced into action. 

Adams's live feed hadn't captured that part anyway. He was too busy trying to defend himself from his first cousin flying fists.

 By that time others were filming, people were screaming “World Star!”, and the entire funeral had become a brawl. 

The thing that captivated America and the world had been his uncle's sheer pain, the obvious raw hurt as he had attempted to express the depths of his loss.

 His wife had been taking his Father to a Dr.'s  appointment. They never knew they'd been hit. At least the Doctors assured Tyson  that his wife and father had felt no pain.

 Adams's uncle was a bodyguard. He had been for years. At least Adams couldn't remember him being anything else. Except an asshole, Adams always remembered, referred to, and thought of his uncle Tyson as “Uncle Asshole.”

 Adams, had thought he was whispering. Tyson was at the podium. His freshly shaved bald head had shone like polished gold. His complexion was actually closer to orange, or Mississippi red clay but a trick of the light or the quality of his cheap android phone, made Adams's uncle look like gold. 

 Tyson had struggled for the words despite having notes. Adams's mother, Tyson’s sister, had helped him compose the lines.

 His uncle had been his same arrogant, flaunting his unnatural musculature around, asshole self.

 He had been overly touchy. Adams didn't like personal space violation, and “Uncle Asshole” was a repeat violator. He would grab Adams shoulders as a hello.

 Adams didn't like Tyson, and he didn't like Tyson’s son Hatari. His mother always compared him to his uncle. She told him not to worry about being chubby. “Tyson was chubby up until the 9th grade” He didn't want to be like Tyson.

 His first cousin and closest in age relative, Hatari, was a thug. Adams had always been afraid of his much larger, far more athletic cousin. He had been beaten up by Hatari since they were 5 and 6 years old.

 At least his “Uncle Asshole” lived far away in Atlanta. His cousin Hatari lived an hour away in Slidell.

So close that Adams had to be compared to him too. He had to see his cousin's picture in the newspaper during basketball season and football season.

 His mother had just told him Hatari was thinking about playing baseball.

 The fucker was probably going to be great at that too.

 He didn't know what made him start filming his uncle. He just never seemed to be human, or at least fully human to Adams.

 He had been to the emergency room when his uncle got shot. 

 His mother had forced him on a plane,  they'd flown with Hatari. 

 When they arrived at the hospital his uncle had been making crude jokes as if the bandages, that circumvented his torso weren't there.

 His cousin had compared him to a superhero.  One of Adams's favorites and it was fitting. Adams didn't like it. 

He didn't like them insinuating themselves into his world. They were the physical guys. It really bothered him to discover that his hated uncle and cousin knew comics.

He wasn't an athlete he read comics, and played dungeons and dragons.  You shouldn't be able to do both. His larger than life uncle had been recounting a story about working at Dragon Con when his laughter led to a couple of hard coughs that made him spit blood and be rushed to surgery.

 The next day he was joking again. 

When he saw his uncle's cool “Strongest one there is” shell crack. He had reacted. He had been driven to record it. He had said the words that had came to mind. "Look at this bitch ass nigga crying like a little girl!" 

The internet had demonized him. CNN, FOX NEWS, even Twitter, his uncle's breaking heart was everywhere.

 Adams, had been psychoanalyzed by people who had never met him. They questioned why he wasn't sad at his Grandfather’s funeral. 

He was sad.

He had cried at his “Nana's” funeral. Uncle Asshole’s mother, his grandmother, but Uncle Asshole hadn't cried. He had been stoic. 

Looking better than anyone had a right to look at a funeral. He had stood there one arm around “Papa” with his hand on his head. Adams felt that, that was his uncle's way of showing off his superior size. He had the other hand holding one of the most beautiful women Adams had ever seen. Tyson’s face had been stone incarnate. That's what he expected from the man.

 When they arrived at Tyson's house in Atlanta he had greeted them the same as always. He had not let Adams's mother fuss over him. He had told stories about Papa and growing up.

 He had the same easy smile as normal, and he had been actually comforting Adams's mother.

 He had volunteered to do the eulogy.

When his uncle had begun speaking his normally rich, and melodic, voice had cracked. Adams had never seen Tyson cry. It was disconcerting and it made him angry. He had no right to cry. 

He hadn't cried for Nana!

 Who was this Nzuri that he had to cry for her.

 As soon as he saw the cracks in the armor that he had presumed that his uncle always wore, he started filming. He had not really paid much attention to the actual words, his uncle had been saying. Adams, had heard them since.

It seemed that CNN had played the eulogy on an endless loop. His uncle had been dubbed “The saddest man in America” “The crying man” and Adams's favorite “The Gorgeous face of Grief” 

Now that he had paid attention to the actual words, Adams understood his uncle's pain.

 “I lost my hero. I lost my best friend and because they were together I have no one to turn to.” 

An animal sound had ripped from Tyson's, chest and his shoulders had slumped. 

“When my momma died…” Tyson cleared his throat. 

It was evident that he was on the verge of a break.

 “I had to be strong for my daddy.” Despite the fact that Tyson was obviously full grown the way he said Daddy would melt the hardest of hearts.

 Tyson blew out a breath. ”I had help then…but now their both…” 

The fight had broke out at that point.

 Inadvertently Adams had immortalized his uncle.

 “The saddest man in America”

What To Do With Destiny?

Kevin had expected the new Wal-Mart to be a lot more like the one he had come from. It wasn't. In fact, living and working in New Orleans was vastly different then visiting.

First, the twins worked long hours and the slow season for them was over. He had to explore for himself and it took a couple of parking tickets and a busted out back window to teach him the places not to park.

 Daiquiri shops were more likely to “card” during the day, but he was able to navigate traffic better on his current shift.

 He had adjusted to the much older equipment the new store had. It wasn’t just that the store was that bigger, but the new Walmart was packed with workers.

 He had basically had the entire building to himself in Meridian, there were three other guys who had worked overnight, and they stocked shelves while he scrubbed and polished the floor.

 The Harahan store had the same concept, but on a much larger scale. His new store had an entire crew of shelf stockers, and a separate crew that unloaded the trucks.

 Kevin, had to drive the floor scrubbing machine over the floor, which given the size of the store and the number of people driving hand trucks was akin to a professional driving event. He then had to drive the ancient floor buffer across the same race course.

 The store had no soft lines for him to vacuum, but he had to walk around the entire store with a dust mop to get up the dust that the buffer left on everything like pollen in Oct.

 He had finally worked it to a routine and knew that he had to work while the stock and shipping crews were on break, a quick one and one run of the two machines were sufficient, but unfortunately it took Kevin a while, and a little bit of embarrassing behavior to realize.

He had been thinking about this girl that worked on the shipping crew since he met her on the first day. He was driving like an Indy Car driver, so he could sit down with her at lunch time.

 Kevin had been doing that for a month, and Dawn, the object of his unrequited affection was stringing him along.

 Finally, one day she looked up at him with those Betty Boop eyes, cast in a tiger’s eye yellow hue and said “If you were smart enough to figure out that you could chill out for 3 hours and finish the floor while it's empty…” She took a sip of something that resembled a daiquiri and rolled those golden orbs “and chill out for 3 more hours you might have had a chance. “She poked out her perfect pouty lips and gazed at him with pity.

 He had taken her advice and the management raved. They had been about to fire him for being slow.

Kevin, discovered that many of the tools in the janitorial room were devoted to the short cut. There was a spray to shine the floors while you buffed, there were three sizes of dust mops, and he discovered the one that required the least work.

 People in the city didn't expect you to do a good job. Kevin, realized that the entire stocking crew and the entire shipping crew had agreed to vacate the floor for him to make two cursory passes. Kevin had been measuring out cleaning fluid in the machines and just the right amount of the spray and shine in the buffer. Striving to do the best job possible.

 “What the fuck, I am an idiot!” Kevin thought to himself. He was beginning to understand why it was called the big easy.

 He was so embarrassed that he wanted to transfer, the dudes on the shipping crew were so cool and the three girls on the crew were all bad. The two girls that were stocking weren't his type at all, but the dudes that “ran stock” were cool too.

 So much free time meant something Kevin was unaccustomed to, boredom. Kevin had worked hard from the age of 13. He was serious about work, but he knew that the less he did here the more praise he received.

 He had been having sex with Dawn in the warehouse one day, and skipped the mopping machine, just buffing and dust mopping.  He had discovered the spray and shine in a bottle and started just dust mopping and using the spray some days.

 The management didn't seem to notice.

Karen, the girl from Lowe's had a boyfriend that played professional ball. Kevin, saw her from time to time when he would pick up some forgotten thing for his house, but he wasn't trying to step on her boyfriend's toes.

 He and Titus were hanging out, but not a lot.

 Kevin, had started working at a poultry plant from 6-2, and while it added something to his bottom line, he still wasn't spending that much money.

 Titus tried talking him into spending something on clothes, but Kevin felt most comfortable in Dickie’s and a t-shirt. Anyway, the girls that he met continually noticed him. Kevin felt that was enough.

Titus had been successful in making Kevin up his shoe game, and he had Stan Smith Adidas and Baileys shoes to complement his Dickie’s. Kevin spent so much time hanging out that the only sleep He was getting came from sitting in the break room sleeping until the stock and shipping crews were heading to lunch.  He would quickly do the floor and wake up in time to go throw cages filled with live chickens off trucks.

Technically he worked from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. but he only had to empty 3 trucks and he and “Star” who's nickname came from the open-faced gold star in his teeth, usually finished by 1:15 at the latest. Kevin, still hadn't decided on a career. He was happy to just enjoy the day to day.

 Until he met her. She wasn't that attractive, physically, but she dressed to impress, and she was the epitome of classy, and very intelligent. She didn't fawn over him the way lots of the girls he had met.

 Kevin had basically been throwing continuous parties every weekend, it didn't cost much in the way of money, but he wasn't really making friends in the neighborhood.

He had partied with woman who outshine any starlet in Hollywood's past or present. He was smoking and drinking more than ever, and most Sat night memories ended on the dance floor, and he was never alone when he woke up. Then come Sunday night he was back to work.

 Her name was Destiny, she was Perseus sister. Perseus was a fair skinned man, named after the Greek hero, he had a large map-like birthmark in the middle of his face. Perseus, was a notorious ladies man. Kevin, had considered trying to imitate his crisp hip/nerd style. That cat could dress. His sister though, she was probably what designers dreamed of when they designed their clothes.

 Destiny was NOT pretty, but she wasn't unattractive just kind of plain, like vanilla pudding. She was however, brilliant, and the night he met her Kevin was so enthralled, so captivated that he was sober and ended the party like a good neighbor.
 He had begged her to stay.

 “Nothing sexual I swear I just want to listen to you talk. You are the smartest person I have ever met.”

Destiny made him comfortable and uncomfortable at the same damn time.  Kevin couldn't get enough of her views on George H. W. Bush and his opponent Bill Clinton, he had never discussed politics with anyone least to say anyone, as intellectual as Destiny.

 Her view of the world, delivered in the nude, while she prepared a meal for the two of them, would have been fascinating without the visual of her flawless body. He had kept his promise and not even attempted to initial intimate contact.

Destiny was determined to make her footprint in New Orleans politics, and Kevin had faith that she would. She was pursuing her master’s in political science and had worked on a couple of different campaign staffs.

 Kevin was intrigued by her graceful table manners and her complete lack of accent. Destiny had attended the finest private schools, including boarding school abroad, she spoke French, German, Spanish, and Italian all as if they were her native tongue.

She made Kevin feel “common”, he knew nothing about the topics that Destiny introduced and every moment he was awake and not at work was spent learning from her.

He told her on Wednesday “Can you please put some clothes on, I am not a priest.” She came back in one of his T-shirts, that made it worse.

 Kevin was so intrigued and learning about stuff that Destiny found “Mundane and Primitive.”  was broadening his horizon. Man, he wanted a passport. She was lying in bed beside him, talking about the water in Phuket Thailand when she showed him hers. Destiny’s passport had stamps from all over the globe.

Egypt, Italy, Russia, Japan.

 He had never known anyone who wasn't in the military, who had left the country and he told her.

Destiny’s coffee no cream irises widened and then narrowed.
 “Kevin Lawrence Delaney III! You are lying to me!”
 Kevin, wished he was. His father had been to Vietnam and Germany, but Kevin honestly didn't think he had the resources.
 “Wow, I got you bro for real.” 
Just like that Kevin forgot that her body looked delicious in his t-shirt. Kevin had a maturation moment, and he was hard pressed to get up and go to work.

 Destiny had made him think about her namesake, what was his?  What was he doing with his life? Kevin thought about it as he showered and put on his tan work Dickie’s.

 He thought about it as he stuffed his braids into a baseball cap.

 He walked past the lunch Destiny had made him, Kevin was consumed in thought. According to Destiny for the price of what he spent on parties and partying in the last month he could have gone to Puerto Rico.  If he had charged for the parties he could have gone to Spain! Kevin didn't understand destiny as a concept, but his home girl Destiny was talking sense.

 She rapped on the car window. “I Thought you liked my etouffee, yeah? Why you left it for?” Kevin laughed and apologized. “I literally forgot. I like when the Nawlins comes out in your voice. You got my head spinning. I want to travel. Look give me that food girl. I gotta get to work.” She stood in the center of the driveway in her bare feet and his t-shirt, as he drove to work.

When he arrived home the following afternoon, she and all her things were gone. His Destiny was gone.

Kevin called Perseus, making sure not to let him know just how devastated he was at the woman’s disappearance. Perseus, had told him that she decided to hop a plane.  Kevin had no idea what had made her leave.

Food Fight

Fucimaeet’s twin lower stomachs growled. He needed to eat some meat. He needed to do it fast. Fucimaeet ‘s people were truly unique in the universe. Most sentient species were products of divine evolution. Creations molded from their environs, idiosyncratic to the whims of their own deities. Made sentient in a moment and left to adapt, grow and evolve or to die. Casualties of the world upon which they have the privilege to be placed. Ever growing waves of brilliance that crash upon the bones of the less evolved.
 That is the normal way of your, mine, and every other world. Not Fucimaeet, his planet Bol`~ had been attacked by some unseen enemy eons past. Their attackers saw the two-sentient species a race of bipedal bovine and a feline biped. Both species were hardy creatures and the genetic weapons used were intended to sterilize them.
  The attacking race viewed this as humane, the people would simply die off and they could substitute this planet for their own uninhabitable globe. Fucimaeet ‘s people had refused to die off. Instead they evolved they survived and grew stronger. They became a miracle of biology.

 All the flotsam in their DNA was purged. No gene for weakness. No disease could kill them, they could live off any type of food.  A miracle of Darwinian proportions. Only by inter-species mingling were they able to survive, and the result of the traumatic stress to their DNA had created a masterpiece.
  The “Moh`da~ebh translated into “The ones who survive” and those who choose to be politically correct called Fucimaeet, and his kind “Survivors”. That was the respectful way to refer to them. Most people called them cow-leos or Cee-els. Even though Fucimaeet’s distant primogenitors had been more like wildebeest and the extinct saber-toothed tigers than cows or lions.
  The odd genetic mixture of the Survivors caused them to tend to ingest both meat and vegetation in good measure. For prime health an adult survivor should ingest half of their body weight each day.  Fucimaeet, was a handsome, and fearsome, specimen of his race. He had a prodigious set of horns and his mane locks bore the black and gold swirls that had signified his tribe for centuries. Ever since the genetic attacks the Moh` da ~ebh called "Sybahnn", simply translated “The combining."   Fucimaeet’s fangs and lower teeth glistened, and his musk was becoming overwhelming. None of the other male officers on board his ship the, “Unconquerable”,  could be in his presence for long. His musk would increase in potency, until he had hunted or rutted. The females aboard were noticing his heightened breed readiness and were beginning to lull whenever his path crossed theirs.
 They were supposed to arrive in approximately 10 rotations what the humans called hours. He would hunt, he would kill, and he would bathe in his prey’s blood. The acids in his stomachs would attach to the raw flesh and bone marrow and his scent would return to normal.
  Fucimaeet, was a junior captain one of the youngest, his brutal methods in training had garnered the attention of the leaders. He hoped that this trip to find pirates would be fruitful, that he would be able to advance in the Warriors Pride. Fucimaeet, flicked his right ear. Having descended from both predators and prey he felt the wrongness of danger, and the blood lust, simultaneously. A yipping growl formed in his throat, and the throat of every alpha on board the ship. The vessel's armored plating hardened, a response to the heightened senses of the alphas of each sub-pride, the Alpha over the weapons sub-pride was in motion. He was derided amongst his peers because of the disparity in his horns. In a race that had no sickness, or deformity, he was considered somewhat of  an outcast.  The right horn hadn't grown no matter how much blood lust the arms sergeant had experienced. His name was Grnargh, it was one of the few words that translated from Bolian to standard as a single word, Victor or winner. In the Survivors native tongue, it meant I won. It was the most common name on Bol~.
 The A.I. in the weapons center of the Hunter Class Warcraft was married to Grnargh’s neural implants, and with a thought the Hunter/Alpha of Weapons Sergeant Grnargh Greenpasture *(The most common family name on Bol~) made history. His leather skin had hardened. With instincts honed, from a herd animals danger sense the young Alpha sensed some threat. The spikey hair that ran from shoulder to shoulder and plunged to the middle of his chest bristled the razor sharp hollow hair could be used as a projectile in extreme circumstances.
  Grnargh was a good officer his Musk enough to control his sub-pride, but not strong enough to challenge for advancement. His small right horn itched. It itched like when his rack had first emerged, like at rut, he attempted to focus, told his implants to prep all gun ports, and prime the hill crusher torpedoes.  He shuddered, as the blood lust overtook him. His eyes, normally brown, and the height of bovine warmth, had narrowed and turned a distinctively feline gold, his lower fangs sprung to full extension and the stunted right horn extended sharp, and deadly. His rack, now impressive by any standard altered the Survivor males entire, bearing.  The order to fire on the seemingly deserted patch of space, flashed to his superior officers via a direct link that was pride and herd reinforced.   The neural implants simply strengthened the link. In the Survivors Pride/Herd hierarchy, the dominant males, and females recognized their station, and rarely did insubordination happen. An Alpha emitted musk with each order and the strength of his musk was enough to make the order be followed. No sub-pride Alpha from any ships section challenged the order, his musk, even filtered through the mental link caused even Fucimaeet, to agree. The Hunter Class ship peppered the  coordinates supplied by the blood lust consumed weapons officer.
 His  order via the link called for 6 talons. A mid range missile designed to shred on impact into billions of razor sharp projectiles called quills. He also fired “Rippers teeth” a weapon named after the second most deadly predator on Bol~, that impacted like a rail gun and tunneled through any substance.
 Fucimaeet’s fangs and lower teeth were fully extended and his impressive horns at their fearsome full length “Get a read out of that area NOW!” Fucimaeet, commanded. Lei Ah the female bridge sub-pride commander responded, “Captain the scans show that a vessel was inside those coordinates but whatever was blocking our view before…Captain the ship suddenly appeared!” The ship had an odd configuration, one he had never seen before, and Fucimaeet had studied every vessel The Survivors, their allies, and their enemies had ever encountered.
 The vessel was dead in space. Fucimaeet, ordered the communications officer to contact the ship. His instruments told him the beings on the ship were alive, they also informed him that his message had been received. If they refused to respond He would lead a “Claw” onto the drifting ship. Instead of responding the ship fired a beam that had no effect on Fucimeet’s vessel.
 It did affect Fucimeet’s crew. The blood lust took every hunter aboard.
 He summoned his Claw via the link, Grnargh served as his beta for the mission.
 The survivors carried every manner of bladed weapon including plasma, and laser blades.  the stomachs of the pride growled loudly, although it was rare for the modern survivors to eat their foes, instinct still whispered to every warrior on the small but deadly boarding craft.

The shuttles “teeth” attached to the larger craft. Fucimaeet, and 11 of his prides most fierce hunters boarded the unidentified object.
 Pandemonium ensued.
  Fucimaeet, awoke, he couldn’t recall having slept that soundly since he was a youngling. Blood coated both his fur and his leathery skin. His claw lay around him in a ring to protect him. They had gorged.
  The young Captain had gorged before, after a hunt, He had never done so in battle, or heard of anyone in modern times who had. He woke the others through the link and reached out to his ship.   Within moments all the ships data had been downloaded as he walked around Fucimaeet got his first non-blood lust view of their prey. He hoped their flesh wouldn’t make him ill.  They resembled the earth creatures known As Rats.
  As he conveyed orders to Lei Ah, Fucimaeet, knew things would never be the same. He extended his long tongue and cleaned the blood from his face. There would be war again. There was a new foe in the galaxy, and they were delicious.

A New Chapter

Hey So if you have  visited before welcome back if today is your first visit welcome. I am attempting to build each Kevin story as modular. I want you to be able to enjoy each one as it's own short story. 

Kevin, had returned to Butler with a new attitude, and new direction. He had spoken to the manager of his store right away. He called two Wal-Mart locations inside the city limits, and a third nearby. The call to the store in Harahan yielded fruit, yes they had an opening, and yes they would be delighted to have an experienced maintenance person join their staff.

 Kevin was getting more excited as his moving date neared. He contacted the sole attorney in his town. He had learned from losing his trailer, and was determined to make better decisions. The attorney helped Kevin find a once in a lifetime deal on a house in New Orleans, he also wrapped Kevin’s house and small plot of land in unbreakable bands of ironclad legalese. 

 Kevin was getting his old house in order. He had sold most of the prehistoric farm tools he had found out in the old barn behind his house. Kevin, wondered why the old white people had paid so much for those. He'd thought about throwing them away. Kevin, had also discovered an old truck that he'd pushed out of the barn. He had planned on sending it to the Vo-tech at his old high school. He covered it with a tarp, and planned to get back to it, as soon as he got established in New Orleans. New Orleans, was the new goal, the new target and Kevin did not miss a target. He had spent much less than expected, so far, on the new house, it had been condemned by the city inspector, however it was on a parade route, and as a result, the city was eager to have it be renovated. Mr. Moran, his attorney, had purchased the split level townhouse for much less then the $10,000 he had billed Kevin.  

The townhouse had everything, including an outdoor pool, and indoor Jacuzzi, though both were in bad shape. It had a wrought iron stairway, winding through the center.  Kevin loved it.

 Kevin, was expecting to have some hurdles with the renovation, despite Tony’s assurance that the $6 thousand he had sent was more than enough. So he was using his last month in Butler, to work as much as humanly possible and save money for unforeseen events. The older friend of his father’s, for whom Kevin hauled pulpwood, was sorry to see him leave. Kevin had been a hard worker for him for the last six years, and had worked as hard as any man twice his age.
 The night crew at Wal-Mart, had thrown him a going away party, complete with a cake and ice cream.

 Yasmin, had looked as if she wanted to speak to him before he left but the conversation never reached fruition. Every Saturday, Kevin headed to New Orleans as soon as he showered, he would complete a workday, get dressed and drive over. With Jay and Tony’s assistance, and with a group of the twins friends, his place was shaping up to be a really nice investment. The house had originally been condemned because, of the outdated electrical wiring. In order to get the house up to code all he needed to do was have it rewired. Tony had promised that if Kevin bought the beer, the crawfish, and supplied the new wire, he would bring an electrician and they could rewire the house in a single day.

 Being metal workers Jay and Tony had done miracles with the wrought Iron stairways, balconies, and fencing that  encircled the small yard.  Titus Paul, the twins new “road dog” had resurfaced the pool and the Jacuzzi for the price of materials. He couldn't wait to see what they had been doing in the evenings when they got off from work. 

Five and a half months, shy of turning 20 Kevin was feeling accomplished, he had set a goal, worked hard, and was seeing results.
 There were tons of beautiful women in New Orleans, and they were as excited about the tall good looking young man, with the curly hair and dimples, as he was about them. All he wanted to do was play the field and make some money. Nothing else mattered. That's what he told himself. Kevin, didn't know what he was going to do long term. He hadn't planned that far ahead, the truth was his heart was still broken but he wouldn't admit it, even to himself.

 Excited by the prospect of getting his place closer to moving in Kevin jumped on the highway right outside of Meridian and set his Buick’s cruise control. The sun was beginning to set over the Greater New Orleans bridge as Kevin pulled into the city and headed towards his uptown dwelling.

 Jay and Tony, and their friends from the shipyard had been painting the exterior of the house and it looked great. Kevin had decided that the house that the city had painted gold, would look more homey in gray, and the twins had appropriated the shipyard's spray guns and several of the paint crew guys.

 He didn’t know when they had started working or drinking but it looked as if both activities had been ongoing for hours. The columns that held up his front porch had been graying, and scarred eye sores, they now, looked new and pristine somehow the white paint had transformed the 18 foot tall columns, and they stood out in contrast to the grey that now coated the face and stone facade of the building. 

An I beam had been set in concrete and was serving to mount Kevin’s mailbox. He could still smell the welding rods that had been used to attach the mailbox, even over the smell of the chicken and sausages cooking on the two grills now burning in his front yard.

 “If you can’t get here on time just get here when you can!” Tony teased his friend from his station at one of the grills.  His voice partially, drowned out the whine of a tile saw coming from the interior. Kevin hadn’t planned on replacing the tile floor, it was going to cost too much, he had planned on doing some sort of wood look laminate. So the familiar sound was a little upsetting, he wasn’t trying to spend his entire savings.

 He bumped his friend's forearm so that he could continue to use both hands on the grill. “Who cutting tiles bruh, I told y’all I ain't spending that kinda money. “ Tony chuckled and used a long spatula to wave toward the house . “That’s Titus, me, him and Jay redid your kitchen. I know that we gone be eating over here all the time, so we figured that you needed a kitchen that you can work with.”

 Titus, no longer worked at Avondale Shipyard with Jay and Tony, he had started a construction clean-up business and the tile that he was using in Kevin’s kitchen had been scavenged off of one of his dump trucks. Well damn, what y’all need me for then?” Kevin asked. 

“Who said they need Yo country ass!” Jay yelled as he came from inside the house carrying a tray of raw meat rubbed with a blend of seasons and soaked in malt liquor to be put on the grill. “You go get the Romex yet?” Tony, asked as he took the cooked meat from the grill, and deftly replaced it with the meat his brother had been holding. “Nah, I was waiting till I got here.” Kevin replied. Jay looked at him his expression unreadable. However, Kevin got the impression that he should have shown up with the electrical wire in hand. Rather than chastise him Jay reached into the back pocket of his Girbaud jeans and pulled out a handwritten list. which he used two fingers to hand to Kevin.  “Go to Lowes and get this shit, and we can have your house ready to live in by Monday.” 

 Even with explicit instructions, and a guide, the Lowes had been hard to find. The one way streets that require you to travel long distances before you could turn around, were a new thing for someone accustomed to a town small enough to know every single driver that you might encounter on any given day. He had borrowed Tony’s F-150 to make the store run as the stuff might not fit inside his Park Avenue.

 He and Farris, the young man who had been volunteered to be his guide, quickly gathered the items on the list including the light switches, and wall plug covers. 

 Kevin was triple checking the list as he walked up to the cashier, and didn’t realize just how bad she was until he looked up.

  “Say Bay-bee, you found everything okay, huh?” Kevin loved the way people spoke in New Orleans, and this vision with the tiny space in her teeth, and the bluest eyes he had ever seen on anyone, least to say a black person, sounded sexy as hell to him calling him Bay-bee.

 Kev’s response wasn’t nearly as cool as it had sounded inside his head. “I found you that’s the important thing ain’t it?” The woman sighed as if the pickup line had hurt her physically. “No it’s not. Obviously you are working on somebody’s house don’t you think that’s important?” The direct challenge appealed to him, and Kevin decided right then he had to get this girl. “Listen mama, I’m working on my house, and I am just trying to let you know that you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I’m trying to get to know you. and yeah if I got to put my house on hold to get to know you it'll be worth it even if I got to sleep in my car!”

 Perhaps she saw his sincerity or she forgave him for being ignorant because he was handsome; Kevin had no idea which, but she gave him her phone number, and he intended to call. 

 The beer and liquor flowed, marijuana got smoked , and the 9 men doing different jobs inside and outside of his house made progress and told ribald manly jokes, as they quickly and cheaply performed over $60,000 worth of home repairs. 

It was well past midnight when the men loaded into their individual vehicles and left for the night. Kevin crashed on the sofa at Jay’s place and was knocked out by the time the house got quiet.

 All that was left to complete in his new house was the electrical wiring and the interior paint, once those two things were finished Kevin planned on moving in.

 Kevin woke before the sun rose completely, and was making coffee, when Tony and Jay padded into the kitchen. They both wordlessly reached for the cups of steaming heaven, and no one spoke until the first cup had been drank and the first cigarette smoked.

 The electrician was set to arrive at noon and the trio had crawfish to boil. Kevin had never done it before, but with the twins and Titus direction Kevin seasoned and boiled the crawfish, corn and potatoes successfully.
Kevin drove back to Butler Alabama content, and ready for the next week. Kevin, hoped  his last working at Bonita Lakes Walmart would pass quickly.

 He was ready to begin his new chapter at life, and getting to know Karen, from Lowes, was something to look forward to as well. The inspection went off without an incident and the next week was spent getting his furniture and personal items securely packed into his car and Tony’s truck. He was on his way. A whole new chapter of life.

A New Adventure...A New Life?

Kevin had saved his money like a miser. Forget the South! He had made as many inquiries into moving to New York as he could with the information available in 1990.

  The very few dollars that he spent were as a result of making calls to apartments, and Jobs in New York. It was slow going.

 For the first time ever Kevin had some long distance calls on his phone bill. He was certain that he had some relatives in New York city, but he was still stubbornly not speaking to his father. His mother could, and would slip him information if he asked for it. He was to proud to ask. Kevin was still as determined at 19 as he had been at 15. 

 His nights at Wal-Mart were spent in a sleep like fugue state, he performed his job of vacuuming the carpets, taking out trash, mopping and buffing the floors to a glassine shine, like an automaton. 

 He saw Yasmin often but didn’t deign to speak to her. Why? She had lied to him enough. It was like a stab to the heart each time she attempted to start a conversation. She would open her mouth and he couldn’t help but envision her with the mystery man from New York. Kevin had been leaving before she arrived for months, until the new manager told him He had to stay. Even after she moved on Kevin held a grudge. He would show her. He was going to be as extravagant as the guys he had seen on his brief trip.

 In preparation of being a New Yorker, Kevin had started letting his soft curly hair grow longer, he no longer went to the barbershop weekly to get his fade cleaned up. In fact he was considering those dreadlock things he had seen men wearing as he had walked to get his slices of that unforgettable pizza. Kevin quickly discovered that stuff in New York was expensive. The fact that he had gotten 2 slices of pizza and a pepsi for a $1 had lulled him into believing that New York wasn’t much different than Butler, Alabama. Kevin quickly realized that was wrong.

 Apartments were way overpriced, and even if he sold his house, which he was hesitant to do, he would still be far short of what he needed to live there.

  Even worse, Walmart wasn't in New York, so transferring wasn’t an option. All he knew how to do was work harder, that had always served him well in the past.  Kevin worked every waking moment, if he wasn’t at Walmart he was hauling pulpwood.

 He had no time for shenanigans, and no time for the girls that flirted with him. Kevin, didn’t want to do anything, that wasn’t directly related to getting the finances to relocate to New York.

 He could have bought one of those boxy cars he had noticed that the New York dude's favored. He could have been dripping in jewels, had he so chosen. Kevin had amassed  $26,487.62 in the bank a Kings ransom in 1990. He had lots more in coffee cans hidden inside the house. 

Saturday normally meant a full day of hauling pulpwood, but the rainstorm, that arrived midway through his Friday night shift, showed no signs of letting up any time soon. As Yasmin and her fellow cashiers, showed up on Saturday morning Kevin walked out to his Buick Park Avenue. 

Umbrella- less, Kevin slowly placed one size 14 in front of the other. The downpour, paradigmatic of the region, was like 5 gallon buckets of water being poured onto his body one per step. Although, he had parked directly in front of the store he was soaked by the time he reached his car. The wet ride home was cold with his AC blowing, punctuated only by the thump of his windshield wipers, and the sound of the cassettes he had recorded from the radio in New York. T-91 the only radio station that he could pick up in Butler that played hip-hop, was extremely far behind the music he had pilfered in New York. He had stopped listening to anything else.

 He drove through the rain to his house, slowing as he reached the end of the red clay road that led to his small house. It appeared as if someone from the Choctaw County conservation service was on top of their job, the silt that comprised his “Street” had to be continuously seeded with fine gravel to keep it from eroding into cavernous holes, and washing away in large sections. The County trucks had been out at some point the previous day, normally the trucks would dump a couple of loads and then drive over it to smooth it out for usage. His was the only occupied dwelling on that particular stretch of road so it was rare for the county to address his needs with any degree of rapidity.

 Kevin Delaney III, had been prepared to park at the end of the road named after his grandfather, and therefore him as well, however, not only was the gravel laid and smoothed out, but it was obvious that at least one vehicle had driven over it already, as there were grooves in the grey pellets, sinking them into the spongy red mud.

 Kevin didn’t recognize the cars in his driveway and pulled his long barreled .38 from beneath the seat as he parked behind the new Eagle Premier and beside the shiny F-150. He uncocked the massive pistol and began to smile as he recognized the two guys sitting on his front porch. They had been with him the night he had moved into this house. They were as much his brothers as they were his friends.

 Jay and Tony were sprawled on his wicker patio furniture, looking right at home. The pair smiled, a rare thing for Jay, as he climbed out of his drivers seat. “What are you two country ass niggas doing on my front porch?”

 Kevin asked, unable to contain the undercurrent of mirth in his voice. They looked well, he hadn’t seen the brothers in the over two and a half years since graduation. Neither of his friends had marched with him, they had dropped out and he heard gone into the military or trade college or something. 

Their Mother wasn't Kevin's biggest fan, and didn't talk to him much. She was too much of a southern bell to not speak at all.

 “We came to save you from yourself.” Jay piped up his face remaining the emotionless scowl, that he most often wore. Tony nodded his concurrence, but all 32 of his teeth were showing, in fact he looked as if, he had borrowed extra for the occasion.

 His ultra deep bass seconded the statement his paternal twin had made. “Yup, mama said that you is becoming a hermit. We bout to take you to the city and show you what life is.” Kevin laughed, he had noticed the Louisiana tags on their vehicles, and  Louisiana was as backwoods, backwards, and country as Alabama and Mississippi, what could these clowns be thinking. “Yeah right.” 

 Kevin dug into his pocket and lit up a Kool extra long, he offered the open pack to his friends.

 Jay was dressed better than Kevin had ever seen him. He had on pinkie rings, and sported two thin gold chains, and one thick herringbone, a gold watch and bracelet. Flashing his jewelry obnoxiously Jay pulled out his own pack, and refused with a slight shake of his head.

 His twin reached for, and pulled out one of his brothers cigarettes without ever taking his eyes off of Kevin. “Say Kev, I used to think you knew everything but believe me when I tell you New Orleans is the business.” Tony’s voice echoed like the thunder rolling off in the distance as the storm moved away.

 Tony was a lot less flashy then his twin, but Kevin could see the quiet quality of his clothes and knew that Tony was making money. Kevin argued good naturedly with his childhood friends until Jay said “Don’t take our word for it just get dressed and lets go.” 

As it tended to do at that time of the year, the rain dried rapidly. The twins had rushed Kevin to get dressed but insisted that he had to be fly.

 Kevin had fallen asleep almost instantly once the sedan hopped on the I-10. He didn’t see the seemingly endless rows of trees, give way to the patches of swamp, didn't see the pelicans lining the expressway, he missed the ugly broken roads outside of Slidell, in fact Kevin snored softly until the trio were approaching the Mississippi River bridge.

 When, he awoke the smell of burnt coffee assaulted his senses, but the view struck him like a slap in the face. The Greater New Orleans Bridge might have paled in comparison to the sites he had witnessed in NYC but she was magnificent in her own right. He had no idea why he personified the bridge as female but it felt right. 

Kevin yawned, his mouth tasted dreadful, and he was hungry. “Aye home can we hit up Mickey D’s or something?” He asked Jay, who was driving, the question, as he stifled yet another mighty yawn. Both of the twin brothers laughed at their friends naivete. “Say bruh, this Nawlins don’t nobody eat at McDonalds, No.” Tony’s voice sounded like he still wanted to laugh more.

 “What ya say Jay, Anita’s, We never close, or McKinsey's?”

 Jay sucked his gold teeth, and hit the gas, the Eagle Premier's large engine roared as he muscled into traffic. He exited off the interstate at Tulane avenue, and adeptly parallel parked. 

The tiny restaurant was a time warp, definitely a greasy spoon, complete with a juke box, it was a hole in the wall, with a shoe shine chair, and it smelled amazing.

  At the counter sat an albino security guard, arguing with another man of a similar age to himself, the duo had elephantine plates of food before them and steaming mugs of coffee. Kevin’s friends approached the guard and spoke to him with familiarity. “Hey Larry, what’s happening bruh?” You staying out of trouble?” 

The middle-aged man laughed as he responded to the twins good natured chiding. “Not if I can help it young brother, ain't no fun if it ain't no trouble, No.”

 The waitress was old enough to be Kevin and his friends mother. It was apparent that she was familiar with Jay, and Tony, and cared for them as if they were her own children. Kevin was loving the way she called them Bay-Bee, the term of endearment gave a stronger impression with the way she pronounced it.

 He normally didn't care to be touched but the old waitress played with his hair and Kevin loved every minitue it. 

The entire eatery had a cozy familial vibe, and Kevin was infatuated with the comfort level. After a ponderous breakfast, Tony and Jay took Kevin to their townhouse. Jay occupied the ground floor and Tony the upper. Kevin discovered that the brothers had gone to job corps. They were both certified welders, and were making good money working at the shipyard.

 They showed their friend all the things about their city that they loved. They sipped daiquiris as they walked around in the French Quarter. They ate Bengets, and "Hot sausage" Po'boys, and drank more daiquiris, finally, they went to a night club atop a downtown hotel known as the “Rainforest” and by the third redbone with green eyes that forced him to  dance with her to this new Southern Rap music, Kevin had a new city to plan to move to.

Show quoted text

How Etta James Saved My Life

This is the factual tale of my first heartbreak.

 I am taking some liberty with changing the names of some characters. Mostly because I am a starving artist and I can't pay anyone.

 So I had long lost all of my juvenile chubbiness and was a tall muscular 6ft 4 and a  quarter. Yes, I want my quarter inch.

 I had a pretty nice car, I made pretty good money, and I was dating a goddess.
Whom we'll call Belle.
 Belle had hair that was inky black, eyes that looked like the sun trapped in a jar of honey, and her skin was a creamy beige.
  Like coffee with just a little too much cream.
 At the time she was the most exotic and beautiful creature, I’d ever seen.
 True, I was just a kid from small-town Mississippi, but I thought she was perfect. 

So, when she decided to break up with me it was devastating. Not only did she break my heart but she crushed my ego.
She had discovered that she liked women as well.
 My world shattered.

 I couldn’t eat.
 I couldn’t sleep.
 I couldn’t bathe.
I was growing the Moses beard.

 I had banned all visitors including my inner circle.
 Even my then best friend Jarrod.

 There was a dirt silhouette in the fetal position on my sheets.
 I wouldn’t have had the words to talk to anyone. 

Of course, Jarrod wasn’t on board with me not talking. After seeing that I wouldn’t speak to him or anyone in my clique he decided to get me some help.

 I spent enough time with Jarrod to know how the conversation went.
 Right down to the deep sniff I’m sure he took before he spoke. Even though he would take a deep sniff before speaking, Jarrod always seemed to be talking through mucus,  

“Say Ma, you need to come to get him. He’s going to die!”

 My mother was in New Orleans and knocking at my door in exactly the four and 1/2 hours it took to drive from DeKalb to New Orleans.

 My mother was my first love, in the way, that all little boys moms are, but I had no idea how to explain the depth and breadth of my heartache.
She couldn’t kiss this and make it better, no amount of rubbing my hair was going to make this right.

 Because I could not or would not eat, I had gone from 298 lbs. solid, to 189 lbs.
Yup, I lost an entire human being.

 So when my mother tapped on my door I am sure she was surprised by my appearance. I shuffled to the door as she knocked. Opening it just enough to lean against its edge. My mom took one glance, gasped and covered her mouth with one hand reaching to stroke my hair with the other.
“Oh, baby!”
She exclaimed her love, shock, and concern evident in the short phrase.

 I didn’t realize it then but my mother wasn’t just seeing the wretch that having my heart shredded had produced.
 She was seeing her baby, who’d been premature and sickly.
 Her baby who had been clinically dead twice and survived, and my brother who had died six years earlier.
 I moved away from her loving touch, I wasn’t ready to be soothed.
 “Mama,”
I said uttering words that I meant at the time but I definitely wouldn’t say now.
 “Mama, I can’t. I don’t have any kick it. I don’t want to talk!”
Her eyes had adopted the near teal they turned whenever she was hurt physically or emotionally.

 I was too selfish to give in.
 It was about my pain, and I  didn’t want to talk.

 So I closed the door and staggered back to my filthy sheets.
 Before I could curl back into the fetal position I heard another knock at my door.
This one was more insistent and filled with authority.
 Either it was the police or my dad.
 Seeing as how I had just closed the door on his wife, I figured it was safe to assume it was the latter.

 My Fathers gruff western action hero voice drifted through the door
 “Boy”
he began.
Then suddenly his tone softened.
“Michael, open the door son.”
 I opened the door.
My father is only 5’9” but somehow it seemed like he was much bigger than me at moment. “Daddy,”
 I said struggling to keep my voice from cracking as I pulled the door open.
“I don’t want to talk.”
 My fathers soft Hershey chocolate orbs refused to get moist.
 He pulled a cracked and worn cassette tape from the pocket of his overcoat.
 Growling softly this mans man said to me.
 “I don’t want to talk either. Take this.”
He said pressing the old cassette into my hand.
“Listen to it"
 he whisper-growled.
 “And let it hurt till it heals.”

 Looking back, I realize how strong my Father had to be to ride home, 4 plus hours listening to my mother fuss about abandoning “Her baby.” 

I examined the cassette, it was obviously well used but the writing on it was clear. ‘Etta James Her Greatest sides.’

  I had never examined this artist before, but although I wouldn’t admit it then, my father’s, wisdom had never let me down. 

 Somehow I summoned the strength to put the tape into my stereo and let it play.
 My heart was closed for business.
Shut down tight, this melody wasn’t going to breach these walls.
 She didn’t even try.

 No, this singer whispered to my soul, intimately.
 She snuck in a back way, through my rhythm.
She growled and strong-armed.
 She didn’t ask, she told.
"Tell Mama" she commanded, while calling me, Daddy.

 I couldn’t do anything other than obey.

 When I doubted that this woman could possibly gauge the depths of my agony, she said:
“Trust in me!”
So I did.

 Over the next couple days, I listened to the intense hurt, the unfair treatment that this poor angel had undergone, and I stopped being selfish.

 I wanted to “Stop the wedding” and make the object of Etta's affections realize he had made a mistake.

 I felt each lyric.
I knew what it was like to want to lose your eyesight rather than watch that person walk away!
So I emptied my ashtrays and straightened my sofa, just as Etta had done and I got out of bed.

My Father had been right again.
 It had hurt until it healed.
 It’s now three weeks later.

 I’ve bought new clothes to fit the smaller me.

 I’m working again and back to hanging out with my friends.

 I’ve bought two more Etta James cassettes and I listen to them in my car.

 Well, this particular day I had picked Jarrod up from his overnight job and we had been all over the city.
By this time Jarrod is tired and falling asleep in my car.
I still want to “hang.”
 I spy a little hole in the wall club with Dr. John and friends on the marquee.
 I am a fan so I wait for a break in the median and make a U-turn.
 “Say bra, this bout to be rolling! Are you coming?”
 Jarrod yawned, snorted in viscously and said.
“Say woe, I need like 15 minutes ya heard me? I’m gonna take a power nap, then I’ll be right there yeah.” 

So I left my snoring road dog and went inside.
When I got into the smoky little, Cabaret, I found out who his friends were and one of those friends was the late great Etta James.

 I bullied my way to her.
Her Security staff couldn't have stopped me if they tried.
 Starstruck I said the first thing that came to mind.
“I love you, so much Miss James.”
She looked at me and giggled, as though the pain had never touched her.

 Staring into her eyes I said,
 “Every time I hear your music I want to find the Son of a bitch that hurt you and whoop his ass!” That made her laugh, and she said:
 “Anit you just the sweetest Lil baby.”
 Needing her to know the depth of our connection I said:
 “You saved my life!”
I had her full attention and she touched my hair.
 “It’s a good thing too, child. You is too pretty a motherfucker to be dying.”
 I was her servant.
“Baby what’s your favorite song?”
 She deigned to speak to me, a mere mortal.
 “My favorite song is "I’d rather go blind", but the song that saved my life is ‘Waiting for For Charlie."
 I parted ways with her.
  Not before I volunteered to be her bodyguard, her response and ensuing events are a whole other story. 

The performance goes on and She blesses the audience at this little juke joint.
 She sang. "At Last" and "Sunday Kind of Love."

 Graced by an angelic voice we all gave her our rapt attention.
 I felt special, part of an elite group. 

When she performed "I'd rather go blind", she literally pointed to me.

 Well, just when I felt that I couldn’t feel more  exceptional, more singled out, I heard her gravelly speaking voice say;
“Now I don’t usually perform this song, but this song here is for the pretty motherfucker who said my music saved his life.”

 And she sang "Waiting for Charlie."

 In all the excitement I lost track of time and my friend Jarrod. 

 Jarrod wandered into the club as the show wrapped up. 

Oblivious to how earth-shaking the night had been, he asked through a yawn.
“Aye round you wanna go to We never close?”

A Werewolf In Mississippi

I am a story teller more than a writer and this story is one that I have told more often than any other. I told this story to my family at my mother's hospital bed the last night I saw her alive. I remember her laughter. I hope that you enjoy it as much as she did.

 

This is a true story about seeing a werewolf when I was a kid. Keep in mind first of all that I am this little fat kid, with a British Cockney accent and a stuttering problem, living in Mississippi.  Yeah I know, it's funny but not to me at the time. So anyway I'm this bad, portly kid who's afraid of everything, as bad kids are prone to be. I am growing up in Mississippi, which as any “True Blood” fan can tell you, Mississippi is are FULL of werewolves!

 

Our house was surrounded by trees, and I was convinced that the woods were “standing room only” for werewolves.  I could just tell they were snapping at each other and just waiting for “fat juicy” to walk outside.

 Now I knew, they knew; that I was in the house. But I figured that they wouldn't break in unless they saw me, then my juiciness would be irresistible.

 As a result, I made sure there were no open curtains after dark at our house. 

My siblings and I had assigned chores, and one of those was that we each had a week to wash dishes. Whenever it was my week, I would wait until the very last minute to wash the dishes and turn on every light in order to ward off the myriad of things that were out to get me.

 Hey! I was like nine years old, remember.
One evening, all of a sudden, my Dad, who sounds like a cross between Morgan Freeman and Clint Eastwood, says to me;

 “Boy! {Every time I tell this story around my dad, he says; I don't talk like that!” but he does!} They changed my shift at the plant. You can't be burning all these God durned lights!”
{Okay for the record, my Dad has a bunch of substitute cuss words.}

 So I stuttered

“Yeah... a yeah... a yes sir!”

And I went on about my business. I mean; whatever business an eight or nine year old boy has... I am standing in the kitchen, trying to decide how I'm going to have enough light to do a good job on these dishes.

I know that if I “half-wash” the dishes my Dad is going to whoop my ass. I also know that if turn on all the lights my Dad is gonna whoop my ass.

So first I turn on the little florescent light over the sink. It's not enough light to do a good job by, so then I turn on the light in the hood of the stove. There is still not enough light.

So now I'm thinking this thing through. I know, for a fact that if I open the curtains, the light from the pole in our back yard will give me the light I need. I also know for a fact, that if I open the curtains the werewolves are gonna see me. If they see me and see how plump, juicy, and delicious I am, oh they are definitely going to break in and eat me. I know I’m looking like, straight up werewolf snacks! However if I turn on the lights or I “half-do”

{Which coincidentally was how my father described most of my actions at that time},

the dishes…oh my Dad was gonna” see about me.”

 It boiled down to; was I more afraid of the werewolves, or my Dad? So I reasoned, “Well if the werewolves break in, then shit, (Yes I cussed in my mind I was a bad little  fucker)
I'll fight them! If I get scratched or bitten then I'll become a werewolf and that might be cool!” So with my plan in place I started prepping the dishes, you know scraping the food off the dishes into a little bowl that we fed our dog. Yeah no dog food for her, that bitch ate what we ate.
{What cha mean I cuss too much? She was a female.} 

Anyway, so I am trying to get as much as I can done before I open the curtains. I wanted to give the werewolves as little time to see me as possible. So I put all my scraped dishes into my dishwater, got my sponge ready and reach to pull open the curtains.
There inches from my chubby little face is a werewolf! Saliva dripped from its fangs, its hungry eyes stared at me expectantly, then its blood thirsty eyes locked with mine and it licked its chops! I screamed like a panther!
{My little voice hadn't changed yet, and I sounded like a girl.}

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” it was blood curdling, and the sound of PURE terror vibrated the whole house.  My mother, my father, my brother, and my sister, all ran into the kitchen even the baby was crying. I'm pointing and trying to explain that we are ALL in eminent danger!
“There's a werewolf in the window!” I intended to scream, but that’s a whole lot of “W's” for somebody that stutters. 

 So what came out was more like “Wawa Waa wawwww “and I am pointing furiously at the werewolf apocalypse about to tear through our flesh with claws and teeth. Tears were pouring down my fat cheeks and pooling around where my neck should have been.
Now while my bowels are threatening to spontaneously implode, and I am afraid that my young life is over my family starts laughing at me for stuttering!

 “WHAT IN THE....!? How dare they laugh at me! And in the face of fang filled certain death?!? Well, I soon discovered that they weren't laughing because I was stuttering. They were laughing because, our German shepherd had learned to stand up on her hind legs and put her forepaws on the window sill. Making her at least 7 feet tall! She had heard the plates being cleaned off and figured it was time to eat. 
My Father was so tickled that he couldn't whoop me. Instead he just said in that ultra cool voice
“Boy, I don’t want you watching no more werewolf pictures.”
Oh my God! How could you! Don't you understand werewolves are my natural enemies?
{Hey don't ask me why! I was like 8 or 9, and it made sense at the time. I had to watch werewolf movies for research purposes. I needed to know my enemy.} 
But I couldn't say that to my Dad. So I stuttered out another “Yeah a yeah a yes sir!” standing as close to attention as my slew feet would allow.
{Now this is the 1980s and there were some awesome werewolf movies, for research you know.

But I was not going to disobey my Dad.}

So anyway, I had this other scary show that I liked, called the “Dark Room” or something like that.  On our local station, there was this announcer who would intro the show.

 At the end of the show, he would read some poor kids name out of this big archaic book. That was my favorite part!

 This sadist would look directly into the camera and say “Sorry Sally but tonight the monsters are coming for you.” {I lived for it}. Each week some poor John, Jack, James, or Robert had been sent to their doom by this guy.

 {Did I tell you that was my favorite part?}
So I have my grilled cheese sandwiches and other snacks and I am watching my show. This one particular episode was about this family that moved to Arizona, Nevada, or somewhere desert-ish. So in their new neighborhood there is an epidemic of people who are dying with their throats torn out. {Why anyone would move there is beyond me even now.}

 The two daughters of the family are driving along in the family station wagon and hit this drifter. They smash up the family car but the dude is unhurt. The little sister automatically concludes he's a vampire. Oh it was getting good! My little chunky arms were getting goosebumps.
On the show the older sister starts dating the drifter and the younger sister is investigating him to see if he's a vampire. Finally, she's gets her proof that he's undead and has convinced everyone but the Dad. Unfortunately dad's at the house chilling with the bloodsucker! So the mom, older brother and sister take the younger sister to a phone booth and they call their dad. Dad picks up and he's spilling the beans in front of the vampire! “Oh don't be silly he's not a vampire!” The dudes walking closer while Dad is opening the curtains (sound familiar?) as he dry snitches. “No I won't make him leave; he's not spouting fangs, no cape. Not a vampire!”

 {“Oh he's so dumb” I thought as I polished off a doughnut.}
By this time the curtains are completely open and the dad is off the phone with his daughter; he’s chatting with the vampire.  “My family has this stupid idea that you are a vampire. “ The guy laughs but it doesn’t sound right. {I am giddy.}
The drifter says “Yeah that's a really silly idea. His voice is getting gruff and the moon comes full and bright from behind a cloud. As he finishes “I am definitely not a vampire….but I am a WEREWOLF!”
I jumped to my feet! No! I didn't mean to disobey! I didn't realize that the show was about a werewolf!

 As I get off the sofa I see my Dad from the corner of my eyes; he's just caught me. Oh my God! I'm too young to die! Before I can chase after my father and explain, the sadist on screen opens his book and says. “Michael!  I hate to tell you this but tonight the monsters are coming for you!” 
{You S.O.B. Is this happening tonight of all nights?! I went to face the only monster I could think of right then.}
“Da, da, dad” I puttered out. But he cut me off, standing in front of the cabinet, shaking an empty coffee can. “Look I don't have enough coffee to make a pot in the morning.” He said; sounding sad.  {I remember thinking. “What's that got to do with anything?”} Until he said, “Go over to my mom's house and get me some coffee!” I forgot to stutter as I asked, “Who, me?” Clint Freeman responded, “Don't play with me boy. “ 
I marched off to my demise.

Goodbye world.

I shuffled out of the house singing some song that was supposed to drive away monsters “Freddie survive” is all of the lyrics that I can remember. So I'm walking slowly singing, this anti-monster song and I hear something in the bushes headed my way.  I sped up, walking faster and singing louder. The creature makes more noise as it gets closer. Now I am running full speed, the backs of my pro-ked tennis shoes hitting my elbows, and I am screaming this song at the top of my lungs. “FREDDIE SURVIVE!” Finally I see the thing loping towards me, and I freeze unable to scream, run, or fight. I watch it crest the hill and charge me. Mute, I shake my head in the negative as it attacks.

“Rarrargh” screamed my older brother as he jumps down nearly landing on my back. He laughs, punching me playfully “Come on man let's go get this coffee.” I looked down before responding “I can't I got to go change my pants!”
My Father still claims that he wasn't in on it. He says and I quote. “I told him to go make sure that "dag blasted" Boy, don’t hurt himself.”