DeafTone Says

I Always Burn the Grilled Cheese

2014-03-28T15:54:00.002-05:00

I always burn the Grilled Cheese

I’m not a great cook, but I’m not the worst either. There are many things I can cook with ease, but then there’s the Grilled Cheese. Ever since I can remember, I burn the Grilled Cheese. One of the simplest things to prepare and I always ruin it. No matter the situation and no matter how careful I am, I always burn it.

This is how I feel with relationships. Something that seems so easy to some people is one of the most difficult things for me. No matter how good it is or how wonderful y a girl treats me, I always find a way to ruin the relationship sometimes intentionally and sometimes not.

I’ve been in great relationships and I’ve been in horrible ones. I’ve done many things imaginable to ruin a relationship. I’ve cheated, I’ve lied, I’ve been too honest, I’ve been smothering, and even been neglectful. Nothing seems to help me “make it work.” It seems like every girl I’ve dated, I choose to be the opposite of what she wants.

I recently met a wonderful, good-looking girl who goes out of her way to make me feel special, but I cannot seem to commit myself to her because my heart is somewhere else. She seemed understanding of this at first, but it seems like the cup of her frustration is soon to be filled and it will runneth over. Once again, I managed to burn the grilled cheese. As wonderful as this girl is you may think it would be easy to “make it work” for once, but it is not. All I had to do was pay attention to her, and I did not do that.

Don’t get me wrong, this is not a post to fish for pity or anything of the sort. I don’t expect any, “hang in there buddy, you’ll find the right one soon” kind of comments (nor is what this post is about). The reason for me writing this is to show that no matter how hard you try, relationships and “love” can be ruined in the blink of an eye. If you say one lie too many, your partner will cease to trust you. If you act too jealous, your partner will become annoyed by you.

Now, how can someone like me, who has ruined more relationships than Ted Mosby, give relationship or love advice? Because I have failed. Every successful person in the world knows you must fail many times before you finally succeed. There is one girl I constantly see… she is not my girlfriend nor do we intend on being in any kind of committed relationship with each other, but we have had more ups and downs than the stock market. I have learned more from failing multiple times with this one girl than I have all my other relationships put together. I learned this: when love exists, the grilled cheese will be delicious despite the burned parts. Love is not about building a perfect relationship for the world to see; instead, it is about learning to put up with each other’s shit and find a way to be there for each other when their life is literally in a mess.

I’ve learned to appreciate the grilled cheese: despite the burned parts on the outside, the inside is always cheesy and delicious. Things are not always what they seem. Take time to appreciate the grilled cheese.

Being smart pays off... literally.

2013-11-12T22:10:00.002-06:00

Everyone can be smart. Everyone can be intelligent. Everyone can even be educated. The only thing anyone has to do to be such things is CHOOSE to be. Now, for those who confuse studious with smart, I want to take a quick minute to explain the difference.

Being studious is spending a lot of time studying or doing homework. Some people confuse this with being smart. It is important to know the difference so one can jump at opportunities and take advantage of opportunities presented like the following anectdote.

A girl once asked me for help with her homework. It turned out she wanted me to do her work for her. I recognized the situation and knew I had the upper hand and a little leverage here. I immediately said, "I'll do it for $20." She said, deal. This is when I got smart.

I could have just left it at that and made a quick $20, it wasn't that much work anyway. Leave it at that and be friendzoned? Please! I've watched enough "How I Met Your Mother" to know where I could take this (true story, bro). What I said next is what separates the boys from the men, "$20 and a blowjob." She almost didn't have to think about it; she said, "ok."

Now, this is a lesson to all boys and men out there who have the awful mentality that they cannot get a girl, let alone a hot one. This girl is attractive and agreed to going down on me because I had the confidence to ask.

You're probably thinking, "oh, listen to this guy brag about getting felatio from a hot girl, she probably doesn't even exist." Me saying said girl is attractive is not to boast or brag about my achievement; instead, it is a compliment to said girl as I hope she is reading this. But seriously, she's hot.

Document 3

2013-10-22T16:37:00.002-05:00

“Look, babe, that car has been parked on the side of the road a few days. I wonder why the police haven’t towed it yet.”

I looked over at the car she was referring to, and indeed, I too had seen it once or twice this week already.

“It doesn’t even have a notice or anything.” She said with innocent curiosity in her voice. “Do you think it’s a spy?”

I thought about whether or not it COULD be a spy for a second...

“What if it’s a GHOST?!” I asked startling her when I raised my voice.

“WHAT IF IT’S A ZOMBIE?!” She yelled out playfully.

She stared at the car parked on the side of the road as we drove off. I did too… in the rearview mirror. Both of us couldn’t help but feel something strange about that car parked there. The road we took home wasn’t a popular one. Most of us out here neighbors know each other very well. We find it strange when strange vehicles appear out of nowhere and just sit there for days without explanation.

The next day we went about our business the same way: we kissed on the driveway, got in our cars and went to work. Everything seemed normal; nothing out of the ordinary.

I couldn’t help thinking about the car from the night before while I was at work, though. My cubicle was near a window at work and I found myself checking the window continuously. I don’t know why I thought maybe the car would be parked outside.

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk looking for my headphones when, as I reached in, something grabbed my hand and pulled me in toward the drawer!

- I want to take a moment to talk about what grabbed my hand… I often have dreams… dreams that haunt me throughout the day. The creatures in my dream are neither dead nor alive. When I tell people about my dreams, they don’t know what to tell me. Some think I’m just stressed; others think I’m infirm. Whatever the case, these creatures are certainly the ugliest ever…

- It was nothing but another one of my dreams. I woke up startled. My heart-rate was well above normal. I got up from my desk and went down the hall to the water cooler. Everything seemed fine again.

At the end of the day I clocked out and called Katherine as soon as I got out of the building.

“I’m having the dreams again.” I told her in a hurried voice. “I dozed off during work again and woke up in the middle of one of the dreams.”

“How long were you asleep?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered, “I was spaced out thinking about something else then woke up suddenly.”

Katherine was studying psychology at the university and she liked keeping a log of my dreams.

“Who was it this time?” She asked.

“I don’t know, I only saw hands,” I answered.

“It was definitively a Zombie, though, right?”

“Don’t call them that! I don’t like the sound… and I don’t like when you make fun of me either.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry; I’ll try to be more sensitive about your fear of Zombies.”

“You’re a wonderful therapist,” I said with loving sarcasm.

“See you tonight; I got class in the evening so I won’t be home when you get there.”

“Love ya, have a good time in class. Learn bunches.”

I was working on a midterm paper when Katherine arrived. She walked in the door with her usual energy and excitement… ever so eager to tell me what she learned in class that night.

“I made dinner,” I said pointing toward the oven.

“Wait!” She said with excitement, “Let me tell you about today’s lecture - “

As she began telling me her story, we heard a sound coming from the back of the house. It sounded like someone knocked on the door, but we never got any visitors out here.

Katherine and I met in undergrad school and moved to El Paso together to work on our Master’s. Our house was about twenty minutes out of town and in a big property - I remember how happy Katherine was when we found such a great deal on a rental. The proper was fenced in and we had a gate. Besides, any normal visitors would knock on the front door… right?

“Go check that out, babe,” Katherine’s voice trembled a bit.

I went to check the back door when suddenly a bang on the front door made Katherine scream. We both ran up the stairs and I headed for my gun case in the closet. Katherine reached for her pistol in the nightstand drawer. Luckily, we both grew up in Texas and have been handling guns since we were 12.

I looked out the bedroom window which led to the front of the house, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. When I turned back from the window, Katherine was already headed for the other bedroom which window led to the back.

She let out a loud scream then yelled, “Babe, come quick!”

I ran to the other bedroom and looked out the window. If I wasn’t trying to be brave in the eyes of my girlfriend, I may have let out a scream as well – Out there in the middle of the yard was the abandoned car we saw on the road the night before. Neither of us knew what to think of it and we stood frozen a few seconds.

I loaded the gun and hurried down the stairs almost trembling fearing what I might see when I opened the back door. I half-assed said a prayer under my breath then walked toward the back door. I paused, took one last breath, then turned the knob, but when I pulled the knob there was nothing on the other side. I walked out the door and inspected the backyard, but there wasn’t a thing to be found.

As I headed back inside, Katherine stood in the doorway looking terrified and puzzled at the same time.

“What the fuck is going on?” She asked, “Didn’t we just see something back here? Are we both going insane?”

I held her and kissed her forehead then said, “let’s lock all the doors and keep the pistols ready through the night, baby, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Let’s call the police,” she said.

“What are we going to tell them? That we’re hearing things and seeing magical cars?”

“You’re an asshole,” she said, “maybe we should tell them about your Zombies too.”

We laughed then locked all the doors… we did everything we could to sleep that night, but it wasn’t easy.

The next morning I was woken up by Katherine jumping into bed with a handful of printouts.

“Look,” she said “I found some police reports online.”

I took the papers and browsed through some of the reports.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “All the reports describe the exact same vehicle we saw at the exact location, but – “

“I know,” she interrupted, “The dates are all whack… check out this one.” She handed me one dated back to 1969; a couple was reported missing in that spot. The police had found the car empty. There was no evidence of violence or a struggle.

All the reports were very similar: someone called in to report an abandoned vehicle on the highway; they say they’ve seen the same car there for days, but when the police arrive there is no such vehicle.

Suggested Titles

Ghost Car!

Deaf-car

A Thousand Lines

2013-09-16T01:49:00.001-05:00

I felt like writing you a thousand lines,
but I could only come up with one...
so I wrote it a thousand times...

Fuck you, I love you! x 1,000

2013-05-13T22:39:00.001-05:00

Inspired by you,
I’m writing haikus again.
Makes me feel complete.

Like a Dream v2

2012-05-16T03:39:00.000-05:00

I can't get you off my mind,

so I'm putting you on paper...

good thing I get paid to write

because I can write about you forever.

This poem may not be the best,

but what inspired it is heavenly.

This one is not about a kiss,

Or how your smile brings out the best in me,

or those beautiful brown eyes,

that melt my entire being.

Don't get me wrong though, dear;

I love those things about you,

but the reason behind these lines today

as I sit thinking about you,

is to tell you how I feel,

when my arms are wrapped around you.

It is almost like a dream,

It’s pure, beautiful and magical,

Intoxicating with euphoria,

of your bitter-sweetness attitude.

Hear my breath and feel my heartbeat,

I feel like a king around you.

Like Fondue v2

2012-05-15T17:07:00.001-05:00

With ravishing eyes that pierced my soul,

she trapped my heart and won't let go.

Her lips entice thoughts in my mind

which seem I've never thought before.

Spontaneous, smart and funny,
She turns my overcast to sunny.

What's so special about her lips?

They have got my circuit in a fritz.

She's running circles in my mind,
but I'd be a fool to try and stop her.

Her smile in memory is better

than having ever lived without her.

A transient glance has dug my grave,
for I'm too weak to walk away.
And again I melt in such a way
which I could only melt for her.

Home Wrecker v2

2012-05-14T15:07:00.002-05:00

As I watch them in their happiness,
I want it for my own.
My insecurities don't allow me,
to be fine with being alone.

I don't care if it sounds crazy,

I WILL destroy their dreams!
I'll kick and scream and steal and shout,
and slash and gash and tear and pout.

A perfect plan I will devise,
to what they have I’ll bring demise.

I don't care, but that there happiness,
will then cease to exist,
and their happily ever after,
will be mine if I persist.

Flower$! Ch.5 Turmoil About

2012-01-11T22:03:00.001-06:00

Having been on the interstate for a while now, the industrial, orange streetlights began fading. It doesn’t take long before you’re out of Laredo. I was too afraid to ask where we were going and made a plan to make a run for it… the minute we stopped somewhere.

The four men were quiet for the most part making only small talk between them. After a few minutes of this, Insane, who was sitting on the passenger seat in the front, said, “fuck it” and took out a plastic bag containing what appeared to be a few hand-rolled cigarettes. He took one out, lit and and passed it to Otro who was driving. Otro took a few hits then passed it to Sobres who was sitting directly behind him. Sobres did the same then proceeded to pass it to me. I politely said, “no, thank you.” Then he stretched his arm across me and passed it to Ruthless who was sitting to my right. They continued this rotation for a few more rounds then Insane lit up another one and they repeated the routine.

“You don’t dip your pen in your company’s ink, huh?” Sobres asked me as he reached inside the pouch on the back of the driver’s seat and pulled out a Snickers bar.

I looked at Sobres to my left and asked, “huh?”

He looked at me a bit annoyed for having to repeat himself, “I said, ‘you don’t dip your pen in your company’s ink, right?’”

I chuckled nervously and just said, “yeah,” pretending to understand what he was talking about.

“Me neither,” he said, “good thing this is YOUR ink now, ese!” There was a burst of laughter that lasted an eternity followed by some giggling and eventually they all quieted down again. Insane reached over and turned the radio on. “I hope you like Gangsta Rap, ese!” he said to me then turned the volume so loud it was hard to make out what was playing, but one thing was for sure… there was plenty of bass.

After about 30 minutes of driving, everyone in the truck started giggling over a billboard advertising a strip club. The giggling turned into laughter and the laughter grew ever-more intense. I had no idea why this was funny, but I couldn’t help myself. I was laughing hysterically right with them. It took me a minute to realize they were smoking Marijuana.

I wasn’t really exposed to drugs growing up, so I wasn’t sure if I was high or not (or if it was even possible to get high off the second-hand smoke), but I sure as hell couldn’t stop laughing.

Broadway Lyonel

2011-12-29T20:22:00.001-06:00

Lyonel was a cross-eyed cat that wanted nothing more than to be in Broadway. He sang and danced day and night, but Lyonel was born too ugly. All the scouts in all the audiences just laughed when Lyonel would audition.

“That cat is much too ugly to be an actor… better change careers, boy,” all the casting crews would say.

Lyonel would cry and dance at night and when he caught his breath, then he would sing himself to sleep.

He tried in every theater he could… everyone just laughed and turned their heads.

One day Lyonel decided to try his chances in a different country and he bought a plane ticket to France. The minute he arrived to France he was greeted in a much different fashion. Everyone vowed to him and treated him as if he were royalty.

When he arrived early the next day to an audition he had learned about the night of his arrival, Lyonel was thrilled to hear the director wanted to meet him personally.

“I could not believe it, I had to see it with my own eyes… they said there was a cross-eyed cat around here and I wanted to see it for myself!” the director said as she entered the room. Then, removing her coat and dropping it carelessly on the ground as she knew her butler was right behind her to pick it up, she addressed Lyonel, “hello, kitty… you are absolutely gorgeous!”

Lyonel couldn’t believe his ears! “Gorgeous, you say? But in America everyone says I’m the ugliest cat! They don’t even let me audition for plays!”

The director was baffled! “Would you like to audition for MY play? Can you sing?”

“Can I?” Lyonel chuckled… “I’ve been practicing every night of my life!”

Lyonel sang a few notes and the director immediately fell in love with what she heard. “Lead role!” she yelled, “I have found my lead role! Why on Earth wouldn’t those silly Americans let you audition?”

“Well, they said I was too ugly.”

“Nonsense! Those silly, uncivilized Americans don’t know that in your breed, being cross-eyed is as good as it gets… you are of the finest of royal blood, my boy… heck, you are practically a king around here.”

Lyonel decided to move to France and made a living touring European theater until his death at age 40 of a pain pill overdoze.

Amira of Iraq

2011-12-28T11:33:00.001-06:00

Last night around 2300hrs my squad and I went on a last minute mission issued to us right before we called it a day. I didn’t know why, but for some reason a little voice inside my head said to accept the mission. As Staff Sergeant, I am the only one with authority to refuse a mission. The boys, of course, were not happy about leaving the camp so close to dark… nighttime is when shit happens around here.

“Saddle up, boys, we got one more before hitting the ‘racks!” I yelled out as I approached the two Humvees waiting for me outside the command post. Their groans were nothing new… these boys are lazier than a bear in hibernation.

As we left the camp, the mood in the leading humvee I was in changed immediately when put a Metallica cd and turned the volume so loud both humvees could hear it.

About 23 kilometers from camp we hit a roadblock. There was something that seemed like cattle in the middle of the road. I ordered my squad to wait for me as I approached the block on foot to investigate.

Kneeling near the downed cattle was a beautiful young Iraqi girl yelling, “Please don’t shoot, please don’t shoot… I need help!” I hung my rifle from my shoulder and extended my arm to help her up when out of nowhere she pulled me down and delivered a strike to my jaw so strong and firm it knocked me out immediately. The next few minutes after that are just a blur to me. The next clear memory I have is of my corporal and medic kneeling over me with cover fire coming from the humvees.

Still in a daze I looked to my left and saw my team shot down the woman who had knocked me out. I realized then we had been ambushed and we were still engaged in combat. I took another look at the woman and realized she looked familiar.

About a week before we had some time off and some of the boys and I went out to a local nightclub. Nightclubs are still illegal or something around here… they sure are frowned upon. I met the most beautiful girl in the world. She said her name was Amira… it means Princess. We kissed and fell in love. I promised her I’d find her when the war was over and I would take her to America.

Now she lay there next to me covered in blood and bullet holes with a blank look in her beautiful brown eyes. I laid here in shock as bullets flew around my men and me, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even move. I felt a warming sensation down my neck then realized the blow wasn’t delivered by the beautiful woman, but by a bullet… most likely silenced and probably shot from across the field somewhere. Whoever shot it was a great shot… AND he wanted me to live.

Favorite Flower

2011-12-27T10:29:00.000-06:00

I step forth and kiss your pretty lips,

And I feel the purple fire running through me

as your toxins animate me

in a way like nothing else can

Your lovely contamination hits every part of me in a combination Of feelings

Smacking me Like a shooting star

Exploding in me sending shockwaves to my heart

Skip a beat then it comes back to me

Sends a chill down to my back

And then 2 into the brain

It’s something I can’t explain

But the way you ease my pain

Is the reason I stay sane

in this crazy ass environment I claim

to be my home under the rain.

Cheesy

2011-12-21T15:17:00.002-06:00

Two-stroke bit the chicken Breasts,
While Cheena ate her pizza slice,
They both studied for a major test,
while watching reruns of Miami Vice.
Then Cheena dropped some pizza on her shoe,
and Two-stroke asked, “what would you like for me to do?”
“I want you to save your own,
Rise above and fight for yours.
Don’t let anybody stop you,
from achieving all your goals.
Aim so high,
that eagles must look up
just to see your standing pride.
And when your life gets tough,
Don’t you ever run and hide!”
“Yes, thank you for the advice,
but what to do about the pizza slice?”

Flower$! Ch.4 Borrowed Identity

2011-07-24T02:49:00.002-05:00

I stood breathing heavily underneath a canopy-covered walkway in front of what seemed to be a recently closed-down nightclub. I had been running without direction a good while now and was exhausted. It began lightly raining somewhere around the time I ran through an underpass of the interstate. I began collecting my thoughts and decided to find a business that may let me use their phone so I could call the police to report the men mugging me.

Thinking of how comfortable I would be in my bed if I could just find a phone somewhere to use, I decided to head up the street. As I walked past a few closed businesses, I noticed a bright light coming from a warehouse door cracked open a bit. I looked up and there was a hand-painted sign that read “Sanchez Appliance Warehouse” and, although I thought it was a bit odd for an appliance warehouse to be open at this time, I decided to walk in and ask if I may use their phone.

I opened the door and slowly walked in. I looked around and very nervously said in a very low voice, “Hello… is there anyone here?”

“Hey! What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?” – A demanding voice yelled out from behind a few crates of the half empty warehouse. There were only a few refrigerators in the far corner to my right and about 5 stoves on the next corner directly across from me. A black Yukon was parked inside facing the garage door in the back.

Four men dressed in brown and white quickly made their way toward me. One of the four was freakishly tall, and in a very deep voice yelled out, “Identify yourself, motherfucker!”

The large one who spoke first clearly became agitated by my silence. He pulled out a gun, pointed it at me and yelled, “Are you stupid, ese? We’re fucking talking to you! What’s your name?”

Exhausted and fearful, I stuttered my name as well as I could. “Ja… J-James… my name’s James,” I stuttered.

“Jimmy? Well, why the fuck didn’t you say so? Don’t look so scared, man, I’m not going to shoot you. I’m Sobres, this is Ruthless, that’s Insane and that ‘joto’ motherfucker, don’t worry about him.”

“Alright, guys, let’s go,” said the man just referred to as ‘joto’, “time for business… we’ll talk in the truck.”

They all started heading for the truck then insane addressed me for the first time, “come on, ese, get in the truck. Let’s go!”

I was extremely confused and had no idea what was going on. The men were obviously armed and dangerous. I did not want to make any of them angry. I made my way to the truck and in a low voice asked, “Do any of you have a cell phone I may borrow? I have to call the police.”

They stopped cold all at once and quickly turned around. They looked at me as if I had said… well, I said I was going to call the police and they were obviously criminals… they looked at me as if they wanted to kill me.

The awkward silence was sharply broken by the one whose name I still did not know. “Pinche vato has jokes,” he said then laughed hysterically for a moment. “My name’s not actually ‘joto’, man, it’s Otro, but these putos think it’s funny to call me ‘joto’… don’t ever call me that, you hear? Now, come one, get on the truck, let’s go.”

Flower$! Ch.3 Jimmy the Nut

2011-07-20T14:28:00.008-05:00

Anywhere you go in the east coast there is one name that stands out above the rest in the underground criminal world: Jimmy the Nut. Jimmy was born and raised in Boston. He came from a good family and went to a nice school. Well, as good a school could be in that part of Boston. Jimmy was well known in many areas of organized crime, but his specialty was distribution of Marijuana. He started out in Boston after talking to a buddy of his at a hip hop concert and realizing how much money he could make. He made a deal with him that same night and began his career. It wasn’t long before Jimmy moved up the ranks of Boston’s most hardened criminals.

Jimmy quickly outgrew his neighborhood and eventually Boston. He began taking trips from the border with Canada to Florida sometimes. His trips grew longer and the loads much larger. He could see his empire growing before him with every run he made.

His empire grew so much he started making runs west of the Mississippi. He found himself in such cities as Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Little Rock, Kansas City and Chicago. Everyone wanted to get some of Jimmy’s weed, but no one knew how to get ahold of him. Rest assure, though, if you’re smoking weed ANYWHERE from the Midwest to the East Coast, Jimmy had something to do with it.

Jimmy’s next move was to make a trade with the Mexicans. He heard the prices in South Texas were ridiculous, and he wanted to find out for himself. He arranged meeting a few Mexicans in a warehouse in Laredo through a few connections he had in Houston. He brought a lot of money with him.

*********

Four men in a warehouse impatiently await the arrival of Jimmy the Nut. They were told to be at the Sanchez warehouse on 88^th Street at 8pm by a man on the phone claiming to be “Jimmy the Nut”.

“Hey, what time is this guy getting here, I’m hungry!” Asked an oversized cholo Mexican dressed in brown and white from head to toe. He was wearing white Nike Cortez, white tube socks with brown stripes, brown Dickies long shorts, brown t-shirt and a brown bandana covering his forehead but leaving his slick, black hair exposed.

“Shut up, fool, you’re ALWAYS hungry!” one of the other four answered mockingly wearing basically the same uniform and it seemed as if the only difference between the two was about 275 lbs.

“Shut the fuck up, fool, no I’m not! I just like eating all the time.”

“That’s worse, pendejo!” A third Mexican interrupted with a much deeper voice than the first two, but he was as thin as a broomstick and taller than a palm tree. He was dressed much different than the first two, but still in the basic brown and white scheme. He was wearing a brown pull-over with a gigantic hoodie almost covering his eyes. The word “Ruthless” printed in white across the hoodie and “Familia Guzman” across the top of the back. The middle read LaneSt and the bottom said “killers.” Most criminals don’t usually go around telling people where they’re from, but the Familia Guzman gang flaunted their territory and wanted everyone to know what set they were from.

The fourth Mexican just stood quietly leaning on a tall, wooden crate sitting on a pallet in the middle of the warehouse. He was the shortest but fattest of the four and also the quietest. The most input he contributed to their conversations was an occasional chuckle here and there. He was wearing a white shirt with a mural air-brushed in the front spelling out the words “Insane Guzman” in a sparkling, chrome-looking style.

“Do you think he’s real? Or do you think someone’s fucking with us?” asked “Sobre Guzman,” the oversized, hungry gang banger.

“Shut up, ese, you’re annoying me!” answered Ruthless.

The four continued cracking jokes and picking on each other to pass time as they waited for what could be anything and were starting to become extremely impatient. It could be a set up by the police or an ambush by a rival gang. There WAS, however, the possibility that it MIGHT be the deal of a lifetime and if the buyer was who he said he was, the gang had potential to make money in amounts reaching the millions.

Flower$! Ch.2 Shop Super Smart at Super Mart

2011-07-16T16:24:00.002-05:00

My Friday evenings weren’t like most typical Friday evenings kids my age had. Instead of being out at a bar drinking and socializing, I was usually stuck working the late shift at Super Mart talking to overworked single moms who know nothing about technology but are trying to buy a gift for their spoiled teenage kid who does nothing more than nag the entire time they’re there. There would occasionally be a pretty girl or two walking around the store, but usually too young and accompanied by their parents and/or younger siblings. Since Super Mart opens 24 hours, my shift usually ended around 2:30 or 3 in the morning and by that time I was usually too tired to go out.

I got out of work last Thursday night and was a bit irritated when I walked up to the bike rack in the front and saw the front tire of my bike was flat. Since I only lived but 5 blocks away, I decided to walk home. It was a nice night, pleasant temperature and there was a nice breeze that made the mid-summer heat feel more like early Spring.

I had almost made it home when I noticed two thugs standing at the corner of the street I lived on. They looked a bit shady, but I’m not really one to judge.

As I got closer, I noticed they had begun walking toward me and I was instantly alarmed. My heartbeat sped up and I could feel my palms begin to sweat. At one point I remember tripping on a crack in the pavement. I decided the best thing to do in this situation was to take initiative and show them they don’t scare me and with that thought in mind, I quickly blurted out, “good evening, gentlemen.”

One of the two thugs, the taller one with a really shaggy blonde mullet, yelled out, “yea, right!” and began laughing hysterically. The other pulled out a switch blade and growled, “GIVE US ALL YOUR MONEY, PUNK! AND THAT PRETTY LITTLE WATCH, TOO!”

My mind went blank, and I didn’t know what to do. I stood there frozen without moving a muscle. I thought about yelling for the police, but even if I did, I didn’t think anybody in the neighborhood would be awake to hear it.

The momentary silence was broken by the blonde thug, who was also much thinner and taller, when he walked so close to me I could smell the cheap whiskey in his breath and in a much less enthusiastic, but threatening voice said, “well, bitch, give it here… we want your money!”

I put my hands about halfway up, just about in front of my chest and in a trembling voice I cried out, “h-hold on, here… I don’t have any money on me, I only use my debit card!”

“THEN GIVE US YOUR FUCKING WALLET, PUNK!” – yelled out the fat thug, who I suspected was in a bad mood because he hadn’t been fed in an hour or so. “DON’T MAKE ME FUCKING HURT YOU!”

Then, at that very moment, in the blink of an eye, my whole life changed with one decision which, considering I am now looking at death or time in prison, I still don’t know how to feel about it. I made a fist and I don’t know where the hell it came from, but I found the courage to deliver a cross punch to the fat guy and I took off running across the street immediately. I didn’t even look back to see if they were chasing me… I just ran as fast as I could, turned as many corners as I could and jumped as many fences as I could.

Flower$!: Chapter 1

2011-07-16T00:35:00.015-05:00

I looked in the rearview mirror of the Yukon I was ordered to drive. I looked ahead as far as I could see, but it was hard to focus on the tiny white blur ahead of me: the white van I was ordered to follow at all cost.

Right before I boarded my vehicle, I was handed a silver 380 that sparkled like spring water in morning sunlight. I did not have a shoulder holster so I just shoved the gun in the back of my pants and covered it with my white undershirt. I was fine the first two miles or so, but the hard medal began digging into my back and it became very uncomfortable and annoying.

We must have been on the interstate for about 30 miles before the target exited and turned east on a farm road. The rural road, vegetation, and the fact that we were getting away from civilization made me a bit uneasy, but I followed my orders and trailed the white van, which sometimes reached speeds of over 100 miles per hour. We traveled down this road for about 5 miles… further and further away from civilization.

I pulled out a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and put one in my mouth then began desperately looking for a lighter. Patience was definitively NOT one of my top qualities at this moment.

I finally found a lighter inside one of the compartments of the dashboard, but as I quickly learned, it was out of fluid. I threw the lighter out the window and yelled a few profanities. I did not know when I would have another opportunity to purchase a lighter.

I reached out to open the glove compartment in hopes of finding a lighter, but just as I was opening it I heard the worse sound I could have possibly heard at that moment… sirens! I freaked out a bit and jerked the steering wheel a few times before regaining my composure and straightening out the vehicle. Now I found myself in quite a pickle… on one hand, I was told to follow the white van at all cost by some very nasty people who don’t like being disobeyed and on the other, this is THE POLICE! I’ve seen on TV what happens when you don’t pull over.

I could NOT believe I found myself in this plight considering 72 hours ago I was working at Super Mart as Team Leader in the Technology department… and didn’t even know what a damned cigarette tasted like!

Dreams of a Person Who Dreams of Doughnuts

2011-07-07T00:17:00.002-05:00

Dreams of a Person Who Dreams of Doughnuts

As the morning break hit dawn and the birds began to chirp, little Timmy Toole dreamt away of Doughnuts and Shakes. Little Timmy had a sweet-tooth, a sweet-tooth, yes he had indeed! His dreams always felt real, but there was something more to this particular one. There was an intoxicating scent of maple syrup in the air. This made Timmy dream of doughnuts even more. The stronger that sweet scent became, the stronger became the pull from within Timmy’s tummy telling him to get his fat ass off the bed and put something inside of it already!

Something was wrong, though… this time Timmy could not get up as quickly as he once did before. He swung his right foot off the bed and “oh, shit, what the fuck did I become?” Timmy sat in awe as he stared amazed at the fact that his feet had gone away and become something that seemed to be a doughnut hole. Both feet, gone… the left one was glaze and the right one white powder sugar.

Timmy stood up and headed toward the kitchen. His balance was a bit off, but he could still walk considering he had doughnut holes for feet. He opened the refrigerator door and reached in for a plate that had a slice of apple pie on it. He turned away from the refrigerator and kicked the door shut with the nearest foot, but as he did this, he saw the reflection of his food on the aluminum door and almost dropped the plate. His calves had turned into chocolate bars. His left one Snickers and the right 3 Musketeers.

As baffled as he was by this, Timmy went ahead and grabbed a fork anyway… and dug into the pie shoveling huge chunks of pie into his mouth.

He dropped a bit of pie and quickly went to grab a towel, but as he took his first step toward the sink, he slipped on the same piece of pie he had just dropped, but he did not see it because his whole midsection had turned into a cinnamon roll. He also did not feel a thing when he fell and hit the floor. He just caught one last glimpse at his big, fat ass hitting the floor shaped like a cinnamon roll.

He awoke in a jolt back in his bed. This time he was actually awake. He got out of bed and headed to the refrigerator. He opened the door and saw a reflection of his face on the aluminum refrigerator door. He chuckled to himself and reached in; this time, however, he grabbed an apple instead of pie. Then he put on his gym clothes and went out for a jog.

Liaison Chronicles - Chapter 1

2011-04-16T21:32:00.001-05:00

Getting closer with every breath and moan, the footsteps in the hall grew louder as I neared climax. I knew who was outside... I recognized his heavy steps, but somehow I could not bring myself to stop. The thought of being caught titillated me and such was the adrenaline I was filled with that I immediately took charge. I pushed Juan off me and quickly climbed on him. While I was trying to take advantage of the last few seconds we had before my husband opened the door, my daughter Haley's face came to my mind. What would she think if she knew what I was doing?

With the thought of my daughter's frightened and disgusted face in my head, I broke out in tears and ran to the restroom. The bedroom door never opened and the footsteps were now gone. My imagination had played tricks on me again. My conscience has not yet forgiven what I have done. Juan stood outside the restroom door for a few minutes pacing before growing the courage to ask how I was doing.

"Honey, are you ok?"

"I'm fine!" I cried out from within my porcelain stronghold. "Just, please give me some time. I'll give you a call later, please!"

"Ok," answered Juan, "I'll go home. Call me when you're feeling better, baby."

As Juan exited the bedroom door and his footsteps faded, I grew anxious and fretful. The thoughts that made me break down were not uncommon. I have had these thoughts before, but they grew more intense each time they reoccurred. It had been some time now since I last spoke with my daughter. She moved out at the age of eighteen, exactly a year after her father’s death. She said she couldn’t stand living in this house if her father was not in it. As for me, this house was home to my family and I could not leave it. Even without Haley, I could not leave the memory of my late husband. I was alone in my house, but not alone in my guilt. As my late husband's long-time friend, Juan knew exactly what was bothering me. He never mentioned anything, though. He never asked questions or push the subject.

Before finally forcing myself to get up , I laid on the bathroom floor for a few hours staring at the ceiling. A sense of unsteadiness took over me as I stood up. Once standing, I stared into the mirror as if to ask my reflection for answers to my unclear questions. There was nothing wrong with what I was doing, this I knew, but for whatever reason I was overcome with guilt and remorse. On I stared for minutes, but I could not find an answer.

The still and silence were suddenly broken when I let out a loud scream. Standing at an intimidating 6'5", a dark and ominous figure stood behind me and I could not move... All I could do was stare. The figure did not move and did not make a sound. It just stood there behind me... watching me.

Panicky and terrified, I smashed the mirror. I quickly grabbed the biggest piece of glass I could find and tried to lacerate my wrist. I had only one goal in mind... to end the suffering that so many days had haunted me. Tickling and awakening many nerves as it made its way down, I felt the warmth of my own blood drip down my arm..

"STOP!" yelled the prominent stature next to me. "You cannot do this! Think of our daughter!"

It was then when I realized the figure was my late husband and petrified I cried, "but, you follow me everywhere... you are HAUNTING me! I can't live like this! I live in fear that you may hate me and come back to seek revenge!"

"I could never seek revenge on the one I love," replied the figure, "baby, I'm not haunting you, I'm watching over you. Who do you think sent Juan over to see you? Yes, it was I. I made his car break down in front of our house. The way I see it, who better to take care of you than the man who took care of me most of my life. Go now and seek our daughter... she awaits you."

The figure disappeared and I was once again left alone only this time I was not scared. I was full of confidence and I could now rest easy. The thoughts that haunted me for so long turned out to be the work of my late husband. I did as he asked me to and went out to seek peace with our daughter.

When I arrived to her apartment, I need not say a word. Haley quickly embraced me and said she had been waiting for me. We caught up on the past few years and she dawned more light on her reasons for leaving our home.

“You became a paranoid freak, mom, and as much as I tried not thinking about dad, I just couldn’t go an hour without you reminding me of his memory,” said Haley.

It has now been three years since the incident. Haley accepted my new relationship with Juan and, although we still see my late husband everywhere, the three of us moved to New York City where Haley attends Columbia University. We are trying to build a new family… however hard it may be to live with the ghost of the one you loved.

Liaison Chronicles - Chapter 3

2011-04-16T21:27:00.003-05:00

He sat there on a black-leather, Victorian chair, purposely placed in the far corner of the room, looking at her without saying a word. In his mind, he envisioned many things he would do with Consuelo… if only he weren’t married. Mr. Jones wasn’t one to cheat on his wife, but he saw nothing wrong in fantasizing about the maid. Twenty-two years… he had come thus far without cheating on his wife, and he did not intend to either, but Consuelo sure made it difficult for him to stay faithful. Sometimes it seemed as if Consuelo got a kick out of Mr. Jones’ dirty looks and mental fornication. She would tease him by wearing revealing outfits and “accidentally” dropping things around him.

Mrs. Jones wasn’t too concerned about the maid, however, as she was too busy snorkeling the pool boy. Poor Mr. Jones had his suspicions, but he had faith in his wife’s loyalty and faithfulness to him. He never thought she would cheat on him. He occasionally heard noises in the bedroom area of their three-story home, but he just thought his house was haunted.

“Could it be?” he asked himself. “Never! Karen loves me too much. I know it… I can see it in her eyes. I can see it in the way she cooks dinner every night. She makes all my favorite meals and we drink my favorite wine. Karen would never do that to me.”

Mr. Jones did have reason to suspect his wife, or should I say… widow, was sleeping with the pool boy. That’s because she was. What Mr. Jones did not know is he had been dead for the past 4 years… right before Mrs. Jones hired the new maid.

Guerilla Marketing Part 2: DIY Attitude

2011-04-06T02:48:00.002-05:00

DIY Attitude... most people have lost this. I have previously written about Guerrilla Marketing, but right now I want to focus on the attitude of Guerrilla Marketing. What is Guerrilla Marketing? First of all, we have to define that a bit more so you can further understand where I'm going with my argument.

My idea of Guerrilla Marketing is a "hands on" approach to all or most of your projects and the idea is usually to find the most cost-effective way to do it all while still making an impact. You can read all about this in my previous post here.

She Said

2011-03-29T16:47:00.001-05:00

Today I was told a funny thing.
By a beauty there
that I had already seen,
but never did I ever really see this part about her.
She said to me in a hearty tone,
"let go of that evil,
The devil's got you all wrapped up
and tied around her finger,
but she's out doing her own thing.
She don't care about you a damned bit,
and you're here, there,
moping, crying everywhere,
sobbing up a poor ole story,
as if you didn't have the guts in you
to go outside your zone,
find love and conjure another.
You've got a good thing right in front of you,
and all you do is stare at her,
I've been sitting here, and there,
and dying to kiss you since we met,
and all you do is tell stories about her.
Quit your whining, boy, and get to kissin' me.
I know right now you're hurtin',
but that pain won't last forever.
If that girlie stole your heart,
then I'm gonna go out there and find her
so I can steal it back.
She mishandled what you gave her,
and broke your heart into a million pieces...
but that's ok, because I've got you...
I've got all the time and patience
to put you back together."

Sweet Night

2011-03-11T18:49:00.000-06:00

Sweet night
sleep tight
sweet dreams of Shiner Bock.
Hold tight
this might
change the course of our lives.
And as long as
your eyes shine
as bright as the day we met,
I promise
we'll grow up
and make something great of this.

So sweet night, sleep tight
there is no reason to fear the dark
I know you'll follow my lead
I know you'll hold my hand
and I know as long as I'm near you
there is no reason to fear the dark

Cheers, Cowgirl

2011-03-11T18:23:00.001-06:00

Cheers, cowgirl…
you're my favorite thing ‘bout Texas.
And although there's plenty of beauty to be seen
in this breathtaking, red state…
none compares to you,
and you remain my favorite part.

In this neck of the woods there were many first things in my life.
The first time I went to a house party,
the first time I bongged a beer.
The first time I tried many other things,
some I'd rather never say,
but my favorite thing...
my absolutely, positively, no doubt grittin',
you darn-tootin' it’s my favorite thing ‘bout Texas...
is all my firsts I share with you.

You and your smile, and those eyes,
and those lips, and that way you say those things,
and the way you hold my hand...
and place it gently near your hip,
and, although it stings just a bit,
I even love the way you push me away.

So, cheers, cowgirl,
drink another one for me.
Raise your glass then place your lips to it
And as the poison of the whiskey
Makes its way into your system,
Remember how passionately I kissed you
And made you a sucker for my wisdom.

So, cheers, cowgirl,
You’re my favorite thing ‘bout Texas.
You make me wanna sing,
You make me wanna dance,
You make me wanna put a ring…
of fire and jumping through it,
to leave them all behind
and trust our hearts to face it.

Those Sweet Days of Lion Memories

2011-03-11T18:21:00.002-06:00

“Fly away, sweet dragon, dear,
fly away to your happy place now.”
The lion sees the dragon go,
And As he remembers all about,
That sweet dragon he once kissed,
And in some way helped her wounds.
He stands there alone, but smiling
Saying verses to the moon,
“I’ll remember you, sweet dragon,
always ‘til I die.
Those beautiful nights we shared when we
Played so lovingly and ignored the tide.”
None will be day that passes,
That he won’t remember when.
Those sweet days the lion and dragon shared.
In his heart they will remain.