Stone Head P.I. ~Just Before Midnight She Arrived~~ 2nd Installment~~Tijuana~

Tijuana

Four twenty am, made good time driving down it seems, now find a likely watering hole where I can uh, get some information. I spotted it, Juan's Juan Mo Time, a dive, but it looked like it had possibilities, it was 4:25am and it was still open. Yes it had possibilities.

"Nachos, uno cervesa por favor."

A few minutes later the bartender placed a plate of corn chips with melted cheese and a warm beer.

"Hey, I didn't order these."
"Yes senor you did order them. You said Nachos and one beer."
"Yeah, nachos, like in beunos nachos amigo. You know, good evening."
"That is beunos noches, not nachos senor. You eat nachos."
"Noches, nachos, damn confusing language."
"Not confusing to me senor."
"¿Puedo obtener alguna información sobre Mr Big aquí?"
"You mean Biggies Bigs senor?"
"Si, Biggie Big Pedro."
"Its Juan senor, or this place would be called Pedro's Place."
"Juan, Pedro, its all the same. Entonces, ¿qué puedes decirme acerca de Mr Big?"
"Senor, why you keep speaking in Spanish?"
"So no one understands what we are talking about."
"Look around you senor, tell me what do you see."
"Locals, Mexicans, why?"
"You think they don't understand Spanish?"
"Okay, you got me there Pedro. You know pig latin?"
"What you want to know Senor?"
"You heard anything about Mr. Big, where he is at, what plans he got cooking?"
"Yeah senor I know something, but it will cost you."
"How much Pedro?"
"Its good information senor, what is it worth to you?"
"A fin?"
"Five dollars? Senor why Americans so funny or why they think we just accept anything you throw at us?"
"Okay Pedro I get your point here. How much is it going to cost me?"
"Not money senor. I have plenty money."
"Then what is it you want?"
"I have a sister senor, a well, a sister with a wonderful personality like you Americans say."
"Oh a sister with a wonderful personality."
"Yes senor, a wonderful personality."
"And a lot of her to go around I am sure Pedro."
"Is that a remark about her weight senor?"
"Why Pedro, is she fat? One too many tamales?"
"Now why you want to say that senor? My sister is lovely."
"And has a wonderful personality Pedro, you forgot that one."
"Does it ever make you wonder senor?"
"Does what ever bother me Pedro?"
"Never mind senor, we'll just keep doing it."
"So what is that you would like me to do for this information?"
"You see senor my sister has liked this one gentleman for a very long time, but it seems that he cannot see her beauty or the advantages she offers. All I want you to do is pay a little attention to my sister today so that it would be noticed by this one particular gentleman my sister has chosen. A small enough favor for what I offer you senor, don't you think?"
"So let me get this straight, for the information you will give only if I pay your sister a bit of attention while in the presence of this particular dude your sister has singled out as the weakest in the herd and needs a little help going in for the kill."
"If that's the way you want to look at it senor, si."
"And this information is the latest on Mr. Big?"
"Yes, I just find out about it myself senor."
"I knew I would have luck in Tijuana, you got a deal Pedro."

So Pedro, I mean Juan, he too sensitive on that issue if you ask me, filled me in on his sister's gentleman friend, I referred to him as "the kill". Well anyway, now where have I heard that? Never mind, as I was saying, anyway he gave me the skinny on this guy Raffie. Came from New York a while back, worked as a barrel filler at a brewery on the Hudson, river, yeah, yeah, I know what you are thinking, but this is a different one, instead of being near a slaughterhouse and a tannery, it is near a tannery and a slaughterhouse, two completely different things and I am sure two different men. He was here because New York was getting too hot and he needed to find a place and chill a while, which got me think if it is cooler in Tijuana than New York and it is the middle of winter, darn global warming coming down like a freight train. He then filled me in on his sister and her little obsession with men, which sounded more to me like she majored in Kama Sutra in school and then managed to turn it into a hobby.

Raffie came in at 11:00am sharp every day. Ordered same dish every day, meneudo, a savory blend of tripe with chilies and other gastronomic anomalies, chorizo con huevos, fritos de papas and coffee. His sister would be in around nine and I should clean up. I stepped out back where there was an old cast iron sink basin bolted to the wall and a water hose wired to a nail, figured this was the hospitality room. He stepped out a back door and handed me a damp bar rag to dry with, said he cleaned up a rum fruit drink so I should smell okay. I hung my jacket and shirt on a limb of a tree and started hosing down my head, getting some of the road grit off, I'll get those windows fixed soon, I thought about this information Juan has, must be good if he just got it, maybe it could lead to some larger high profile job, I mean who knows? Mr. Big knows a lot of people, stepped on a lot of toes, parlayed a lot of favors and is sitting fat, a fat little plumb ripe for picking. This may be the ticket out of Rutville, cruising on Easy Street and writing my own ticket. Yeah, it's moments like these you realize that maybe this time you didn't step in horse crap and you could come out smelling like a rose. Yeah we'll get this done, maybe even call it a favor for the little lady, get the foot in the door with Mr. Big, well maybe I'll take 10% off expenses. I got people breathing down my neck for a little bit of the green too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Senor, my sister she is here now, hurry."
"Yeah, sure Pedro just a few more minutes."

I was looking at my shirt, it had seen better days. Used to be white, but I am kinda leaning more to the gray side, more a yellowish gray, it has to be that detergent I am showering with, it just not getting the clothes white. I looked at the bar rag, those red stains, hm. I walked over to my shirt and started making streaks down it with the red stained bar rag, working it in it started to look pretty good, some of the edge techno cutting crap kind of thing, you know industrial colors, high tech, at least it looked different. I looked over at my jacket, dark green, should have worn the gray one. There was a polished hub cap nailed to the tree, I slipped my jacket on and looked. Damn elf. Red shirt and green jacket, a damn elf, but at least the shirt smelled good. Made note to self to start saving all the paper towels used to wipe up fruit juice spills. Cutting corners, what can I say? I am my parent's son.

I should call Yadnus and let her know that I am going to be in possession of some very valuable information concerning Mr. Big. Straightening my tie, gold tie, streaked red shirt, green jacket, Tijuana Santa Claus, first one sits in my lap I am going to shove a candy someplace they couldn't possibly thought possible. Walking through the front door of Juan's Juan Mo Time, I gazed casually across the room, smelled like urine, then around the corner she walked. I thought I was going to have to duct tape my jaw in place, it hit the floor when she entered, I mean you couldn't have stacked bricks any tighter. I dropped my gaze when she looked towards me, looked at her with head tilted forward slightly, sneer on my lips and introduced myself.

"Buenos dias Chiquita. Mi es Stone, Stone Head y su nombre es?"
"Well it is not Chiquita Mr. Elf."
"Okay Senorita, what is it that they call you?"
"That depends on "who" they are Mr. Elf."
"Yeah, what did your brother grow up calling you?"
"Stupid Bitch."
"Alright, what did your teachers call you?"
"Absent most of the time, the other times it was just "that girl" seems they do not understand how I graduated from school seeing how I spent so much time in his office, what they refuse to admit to themselves, that is how I graduated."
"What do your parents call you?"
"You pregnant again?"
"Crap. What is your name?"
"Why you not just ask that the first time and not what everyone else calls me?"
"Yeah, yeah, my mistake. So what is your name?"
"Nina."
"Nina. Well Nina it is nice to meet you."
"I sure for you it is, but you wouldn't be exactly my first choice Mr. Elf."
"So did Juan speak to you?"
"Juan speaks to me every day, 'Nina, you can't be doing that in the booths or Nina, you cannot use the bathrooms as your private offices and No Nina, I will not install a two way mirror between the men's and women's room so you can screen you perspective boyfriends.' crap like that."
"I mean he talk to you about you and me?"
"Okay cowboy, now I don't know what Juan may have told you, but I do not take a relative's referral, they usually a lot like you, except not dressed like a big elf and that is another thing, I do not do fetishes, if you got something you need scratched, you need to learn to scratch it for yourself because cowboy I am not going there. Find someone else to dig spurs into and slap on the rear yelling Viva Zapata."
"Yelling Viva Zapata? Why would I want to yell that?"
"Either way it is $50.00 an hour, 15% minimum gratuity and a minimum of 2 hours, unless it is past midnight, then you pay for 3 and get 4. No funny clothes, no diaper changing and pay in advance."
"No, no you got it all wrong."
"Well it is not free cowboy. I don't care what Juan told you."
"It has nothing to do with that."
"So you just want to watch? That costs too."
"Listen, I'm a private investigator out of Los Angeles down here working a case."
"Ah, you like to take pictures of me and your "case" in a more relaxed atmosphere? That costs too."
"Nah, Juan has some information about the case I am working on and he said if I paid attention to you a little, you know slap the rear, whistle and maybe a squeeze or two while Raffie is here watching, maybe making him realize that he should pay more attention to you and for that Juan will give me the information."
"So you pay me attention while Raffie watches and he gets jealous because he thinks you and I are shaking the moraccas in bed and he gives you another reason to grow a second chin, to hide that nasty scar on your neck."
"From what I understand he doesn't pay you any attention at all, gives it all to the other ladies."
"You think I am not good enough for him cowboy?"
"I didn't say that. Listen you want to do this or not?"

Well on about eleven that morning he shows up. Skin tight silk shirt opened to his navel with some kind of flowers with naked ladies posing inside them and it was also the exact same pattern he had chosen for his body tattoo. A pair of Levi 505s, two sizes too small and a pair of cockroach corner killing boots, you know, those real pointed toe boots, dyed tangerine and turquoise and gold chains around his neck. I could see the outlined haft of a knife through his jeans, he had it inside left his boot. He wore a black Clint Eastwood style hat, you know the one, he wore it in the movie 'The Good, The Bad and The Ugly'. I don't know to what part he associated himself to, but I am betting it wasn't the good or bad. I thought this guy was wearing a mohair ascot there was so much fur and probably the reason he couldn't button his shirt. This guy was the poster child for ugly and not in the cute ugly way either, I mean if you beat him with a club it would have been an improvement ugly. Some ladies are attracted to that, that rugged look as they call it, a man who has seen life, rugged look, that is the face of one who has kissed one too many chain link fences and forgot to duck a few times around a swinging baseball bat. I decided it was time to call Yadnus and fill her in why Raffie made himself comfortable.

"Hey Yadnus, its me."
"Me who?"
"Stone, Yadnus, Stone Head."
"You still can't make up your mind can you?"
"Listen I got a lead on Mr. Big down here. I met this Mexican bartender named Pedro, Juan, Julio, well anyway he has some information he just heard about Mr. Big and as soon as I do him this little favor he will give me the information."
"Little favor? What kind of little favor?"
"Well he has this sister and he asked me for a small favor."
"Never mind Stud, you just do what you have to do "for the case", I'm looking for this Ruffie character, I thought he might have developed a big lead for you if you found him."
"And that's why I go to Tijuana, for those kinds of leads."
"Okay Sherlock you just keep developing those leads down there. By the way, tomorrow's Christmas eve, you going to make it to San Fran?"
"Yeah, I booked a flight out of here to there for tomorrow afternoon, I'll be there in plenty of time and with what I need to close this case."
"You might start with a clue and go from there."
"So how is the little package holding up?"
"About your little package, I just want to let you know I am charging you for all of this."
"Charging me for what? All she needs is a chair to sit in."
"You owe me $785.00 to be exact."
"How do you get $785.00?"
"Oh, that is what it cost for a new toilet and the plumber to install it."
"Why do I need to pay for you a new toilet?"

So Yadnus proceeded to tell me the story of how I owe her for a new toilet. Seems the emergency crew had to break the old one to release Miss Dew's foot and to get her head unstuck, it had become wedged between the toilet and the tub. Yadnus was going to clean her shower that day with vinegar, brightens the grout and kills all the mold and mildew, well Miss Dew said that it was also good as an exfoliate for the body and told Yadnus that she would be happy to do it for her while she showered, clean the grout and exfoliate the body. While in the shower Miss Dew had noticed she let a few things go and seem they were getting a little long on hair so to say and decided to do a little upkeep maintenance, shave the legs, do a little trimming and shaping, only this is,is that she did this before the grout exfoliate thing. The next thing Yadnus heard was screaming like a cat fighting itself, so she runs into the bathroom and she said Miss Dew was dancing around in the shower like she was on fire. Before she knew it Miss Dew had jumped up into the air, had shifted her weight and when she landed her left foot went into the toilet, which threw her head forward and to the left side where her head got wedged between the toilet and the tub. She said she was very uncomfortable looking and she did not know what to do for her except call the fire department, who told her the only way they could get her unstuck was break the toilet, hence calling the plumber and getting a new toilet at holiday ream you out prices.

"Couldn't you have just greased her up with some Vaseline or lard and got her loose? She could have taken another shower, water a lot cheaper than a new toilet."
"Well that is what your running tab totals to now."
"She okay? I mean nothing that Mr. Big might get upset over?"
"Not unless he is going to blame you for her being stupid, you're safe."
"She going to be able to make it? I mean show up in San Fran?"
"Yeah, she'll be fine, she is just going to walk like she welcomed home the Navy's Fifth Fleet personally for a few days."
"I'll let you go now, time for me to get my little favor I owe done."
"Yeah, you break a leg down there."
"That is what you tell an actor before they go onstage."
"Yeah I know that Stone, I just hoped you'd break a leg while you're down there."

So I played my little performance for Raffie and an Oscar winning performance it was.

Next: Raffie
Continued

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Stone Head P.I. ~Just Before Midnight She Arrived~~ 1st Installment~

It was the 22nd of some December at one time in my more recent or distant past, but it was like most before them have been, mundane, slow and cruelly boring. It was that "season" again that seemed to fill everyone in some sort of "altering spirit" transformation and crime just seemed to slow down. Then when I think of it, it is just times like this when things are hard, landlord banging down your door demanding his money, cut off notices from the utility companies that she knocks on the door. Not the same she each time, but her, you know who I am talking about, that one that goes knock knock and just flips your world upside down and easy street is just around the corner. I looked at my watch, 9:00pm and she hadn't knocked yes I thought to myself. I turned in my desk chair to face the window and so that when she came in I would twirl around in some dramatic moment and there she would be, tall, sultry, a slight pout on her luscious lips and a tear starting to fall from those deep smokey eyes, but then again that could have just been a reflection of the smoke stacks belching over at the incinerator, but she would be standing there. All decked out in a deep green sequined dress of some more visible revealing thin gauzy material that clung to each curve, yeah that's the way it would happen each time. Damn it looks cold out there I thought to myself, too darn cold to think about being out in, no office, no phone for business, working out of cabs and pay phones wasn't my idea of how to start a new year off. I looked down at my watch, 9:25pm and still it hadn't looked like it warmed up any outside and she hadn't shown yes either.

My name is Stone, Stone Head, private investigator specializing trying to find something to investigate. It is not as easy as it seems, not that glamorous lifestyle, driving foreign sports cars, jetting or boating about on some high profile case drinking single malt liquor. No seedy describes it in its best light, three day old coffee grounds that you pilfered from the maid's cart while she cleaned an office, at least the office next door only used theirs once and it was always on the top, an easy snatch, no one hurt and the landfill a little emptier tonight. I try to do my part to save the environment and the bonus is that I cut back on a little office overhead. It is more like bush humping, sitting behind a bush in some remote location late at night with a cheap department store one time use disposable camera watching the back end of the car I was watching bounce up and down like a '57 Chevy Belaire with bad suspension going down a rocky road. Waiting for them to give their selves up in some compromising position and hope he is at that point to where he wouldn't care if the car was on fire, he was going to finish while I ran over and switched on my lights to catch both of their faces in embarrassment and take the picture or pictures depending on how old the guy was and if he wasn't carrying a gun, but you at least got one shot and my chances of the film developing was about 50/50 seeing how I bought the cameras outside the expiration date because they were 75% off and you have to cut corners everywhere you can in these economic hardships we all are facing and if my nephew who I let develop them doesn't do it after he has tweaked his spiritual self and to this day I still do not think that was incense he was burning rolled up in that paper. To be paid squat by some husband or wife who couldn't just move on with the one they were cheating with and not trying to catch the other, but it pays the bills at times and if they are foolish enough to pay me for doing it, I would be smart and be even more foolish and accept it. Crawling around some nasty trash dumpster filled with Thai Palace Restaurant's daily lunch buffet specials for the last week and getting riper every day, with that same discounted out of expiration date disposable camera because there were still 17 exposures left watching some bookie passing on dole to some crooked cop on the take to look the other way as I gingerly applied a little foot pressure on the tail of an alley cat feasting on the ripening buffet and as his cry startled my two objects of attention I would snap and run hoping that neither recognized me as they could be help in the future, but a screaming cat running at full speed up a pants leg usually takes their eyes off me and on matters a little closer at hand and trying not to have to explain to his wife why he has claw marks running up his legs. Such is a private investigator's life, but then there is that special one that comes along, that one who is long on looks and a short attention span and with a sugar daddy's wallet deeper than crooked banker's. Mine has seemed to forgotten to wind her watch, she has yet to show up. Yeah, eaten up in debt, owing favors to some high dollar low life, buying the cheap bourbon, settling for beer and eating at cheap greasy spoons when they have their special, that is the real life, the abridged story, yes it is my life too.

Going on 11pm now, traffic has slowed a lot, streets thinning out, well if she is coming I will notice. Damn I wished I had at least paid the heating bill, thin glass, cold just seeps in. That is why I have learned to improvise, take ordinary things and turning them into a multifunctional tool. Four bricks, a waste can and raiding the paper recycling bin you can heat a cozy office and it does add ambiance to the place, plus the savings cost is tremendous when you think about it, of course the soot on the ceiling isn't that appealing. Hey but that is what sacrifices are, give and take, I can always repaint in the spring, that is if anyone happens to be remodeling their office space and if my nephew isn't tweaking his inner spirit. Yeah I improvise, cut a lot of corners, it has opened a whole new world for me. Not that I am cheap or anything like that, I just don't like squandering my money on what I have been led to believe I can't do for myself or can't do without. Light bulbs you just don't buy once you know, no, once you buy one you're paying for it until it burns out, but these too have have more use than just illumination. I made a nice crotch warmer with my desk lamp, borrowed one of those infra red bulbs they use to keep the overdone food warm at the diner, yeah I know, I say borrowed and I did return it, anyway replacing the 150 watt bulb out, yeah I know it is only rated for 60 watts, but when you shine a 60 watt bulb into a perp's face all he going to do is spit on the bulb and break it, then I am out another bulb and I have to walk down to the men's room and stand on a toilet and get a new one. 150 watts gets his attention, makes him cringe and he knows if he spits on this one he is eating glass. So as I was saying, I replaced the 150 watt with the infra red bulb and I placed it under my desk with the lamp facing my crotch, was nice until I ended up at the emergency room with 3rd degree burns. Lawyer said I can't sue the diner for negligence seeing how I stole, uh I mean borrowed the bulb from them and they are not responsible for placing warnings on the dangers of misuse of the bulb in public view. Cutting corners never really was new to me, my parents cut a lot of them. Mom used to use week old crumbled up cornbread instead of hamburger the directions for Hamburger Helper placed as an important part of the meal in the recipe. Even though she would fry the crumbled up cornbread until it resembled hamburger meat in fat rendering, those leftover from the drippings of cooking various meats, it still lacked that real hamburger flavor for some reason. I mean hell, it didn't kill me and I grew up with a clean colon. Dad, oh dad now he is a totally different kind of corner cutter. His philosophy is, if it don't need it to operate, then it don't need it at all, this before there were any car emissions regulations and laws. At least we knew when he was coming home well in advance of his arrival and the neighborhood was mosquito free not to mention no other community pests, like wildlife, stray dogs and cats, elderly, handicapped or a lot of kids. Why pay for trash pickup when all we have to do is dig a big hole in our back yard and bury it ourselves and then his next words were, "Okay each of you kids grab a shovel, dinner will be late today, you got a hole to dig.", once again cutting corners not doing any of the work thinking his contribution of this epiphany he had on saving yet another $10.00 a month to have it hauled off twice a week was contribution enough, someone had to come up with the ideas or we would never have any beer money. Yeah I come from a corner cutting family, one kid taken to the doctor, the rest shared his medication. If it didn't cure you, at least you felt good right before you felt like dying. Mom used to drop the laundry in the tub with us and pour in powdered detergent and do the laundry same time she gave us a bath and we got an eye burning bubble bath. You could say I grew up being innovated and a little ahead of myself or is that others, I get it confused sometimes. Landlord says I am full of innovation, even though innovation wasn't the exact word he used, but he did say I was full of it.

I looked at my watch, a quarter till midnight, 11:45pm, 2345 hours, no matter how I looked at it time was running out. 22nd would soon be over and she hadn't arrived yet. You remember her, yeah I know you do, that one we spoke about earlier, the one that made your eyes all red like that detergent bubble bath you took when you were a kid from all the perfume she was wearing. Cheap, but plentiful, especially when purchased in bulk, the one that comes in the 55 gallon steel barrel stenciled, eau de parfume or industrial strength lead paint remover, "Warning, must dilute if used as a paint remover, fumes have caused sterility in lab rats and technicians after exposure and could cause accelerated erectile dysfunction. Please consult your physician if any of the following have occurred, tenderness in the scrotum area, a slight inflammation in the circumference of your private momma slap the back of your hand with a wood spoon if you shook it more than three times after taking a leak thing, if you look at it and forgot what it was or what it is even used for, if you shake it and cannot feel it, if you find yourself urinating your pants more often than normal, (this is based on a global average and does not reflect poor judgment on your part), any irritation or ticklishly tingling feelings when you urinate and you find your beer consumption is more so you can urinate again to feel it or if you find yourself reading this warning label, please consult your personal physician or local free clinic and wear condoms during intercourse for at least six months or until cured. Yeah, now you remember, I mean how can you forget. Her. 11:58pm, 2 minutes till midnight, 2358 hours, ticking down, two minutes left and if I keep finding different ways of saying it, time is over, the new day begins, new dawn coming, cock will crow soon. Then, knock, knock, rap, rap, ding dong, how ever you want to put it, there it was or rather she was with 22 seconds to spare. Still facing the window in my chair, I yelled over my shoulder.

"Yeah. Door's open."

I could sense or scent it was her, proper syntax evades me now, but I knew it was her. It was in her voice, the way she spoke, the way she said it. I didn't even have to turn around to see if it was her, I knew it was her. She has that atmosphere, that certain something, an atmosphere unique to her or it could be that eau de parfume, the one that says, do not use around open flame. Yeah she was in a world of her own or it is those fumes she has been huffing all day. I turned slowly in my chair, a little dramatic moment, stretching the anticipation factor and then there she was, just as I had pictured her, well maybe not exactly like I pictured her, close though, well maybe not even close, she was wearing a dress, but it was her. I could feel it, or it is those fumes from her eau de parfume I was feeling. I reached over in my top left desk drawer and pulled out the canister filter gas mask I had purchased from an army surplus store that just got a shipment of WWI Polish ones and slipped it over my face. I noticed stamped above the protective eye covering on the inside it said "Front" backwards. There she stood, dressed in a white sheer gauzy thin to the point you could read a newspaper through them gown, not the green sequined number I had pictured her in, but this will work too. A white ermine fur draped over her shoulders or that really cheap imitation stuff they are selling across town or it could have been the fumes for her eau de parfume. A pair of silver 6 inch stilettos and matching clutch, a little tarnished, but again that could have been the fumes. Man those fumes. I noticed a fine black powder falling and I looked up at the ceiling, at least the soot is releasing, maybe I won't have to repaint.

"Mr. Head, Stone Head?" said in a high pitched Brooklyn accent.
"Yeah that's me. What is the problem that brings you looking for me this time of the night?"
"I got your name and address off the women's room stall earlier tonight and I need to speak to you."
"Your nickle, spill it."
"Mr. Head." she started.
"Call me Stone. I just never been able to swallow being called Head. Even though my brother's lifestyle seems to enjoy the term head I mean the name Head."

She looked at me with those eyes, well not exactly "those" eyes, the left looked a little cockeyed, but the other looked fine or maybe that one is a glass one now that I get a closer look at it.

"Stone I desperately need your help."

And just my type too, desperate.

"Tell papa Stone all about what it could possibly be worrying that pretty little head of yours."
"Oh Stone it is terrible, I mean just terrible."
"Now now, nothing can be that bad."
"He'll kill me if he ever finds out."

Okay maybe things could get worse, I mean if he would kill her I am sure he won't lose any sleep doing off with me.

"Let's start with he. Who is he?"
"My benefactor. Well, that is what he tells his friends and wife. I mean to his wife I am his executive assistant and to his friends he is helping get through college. Everyone else calls him Mr. Big, I call him Pookie, he likes it when I call him that when we are alone."

"I see." replied in a nonchalant tone.

Oh crap, Mr. Big, the Mr. Big the one they nicknamed Biggie. Of all the dames in all the world this one walks into my office.

"Mr. Big huh"
"Yes my little Biggie, he will just be furious if he found out. I can't imagine what he would do."
"Well a few lines back you said he would kill you." stating the redundant obvious or obviously redundant.
"Oh Stone, I just know he would or kill something just to feel better."

Better that something not be me then.

"Here fill this out and then we'll talk. Just a questionnaire to get a feel so to say. Do you need a pen?"
"Oh! Did another button pop again?"

Okay, an attention span isn't the only thing she is short on.

Personal Questionnaire

1.Full Name:
2. Date of birth:
3. Home Address:
4. Do you sleep alone or with others? (If others please explain in detail on back.)
5. Telephone Number:
6. Next of Kin: (Only if female and you don't call her mom.)
7. Bra size:

"Why do you need to know my bra size?"
"To know how much of a grasp I will need on this case."
"Oh. Okay."

8. Status: Married__ Single:__
Married but fooling around:__
Single but open to menage au tois:__ (preferably me you and your best friend.)
Married but open to menage au tois:__(Note I am not bisexual nor do I have any tendencies to explore that side of my sexuality.)
Divorced:__
Divorced but still doing husband until after alimony hearing:__
Alimony: yes__no__
Amount:$___
Payment Schedule:__/__/__
9. Are you easy?: yes__no__(If no, what is your favorite mixed drink.)
10. Number of sisters:__
11. Their ages:__________________

It was the little things, the intimate things that you know about your client that gave a sense of closeness.

"So where is Mr. Big at now?"
"He is in San Fransisco, I am supposed to be there by the 24th for a Christmas party he is throwing and if I can't fix things before I go I know he is just going to kill me."
"Just what is it he would kill you for? Uh I noticed you skipped over the questions about sexual preferences, not that it is that important, but if you are going to fill out a questionnaire its kind of nice if you answer all the questions."
"Oh I see. Well I met this guy in New York last St. Patrick's Day near the brewery over by the Hudson river, the place right next to the slaughter house and the tannery. Well anyway Pookie had business there at the brewery so he took me with him, well he had business to tend to there was this guy there that showed me around the place and when we ended up in the tasting room, well after drinking a few beakers or flasks, what ever they call them he said he would show me the cooling vault. I thought it was a cold storage for furs, but you know what it was? It was a place where they chilled the beer. Who'd a thought that is what that was for? I mean if they use the word vault there would be something expensive inside, not a bunch of different glass beer bottles with famous beer labels. I mean you can see that anywhere, like, like one of them places where you buy beer."
"A beer store?"
"Yeah that's it, a beer store. Well anyway we got lost in all those aisles and passages of cases and cases of beer and he was concerned for me, said I could die of exposure in cold temperatures. He said I should try and stay warm, keep my blood circulating. So I suggested that we walk around until we found our way out, but he said that wasn't too smart, they sent a guy to do inventory 3 weeks before that and he still hasn't been heard from and once they found a skeleton of someone who got lost in them. He said our best bet would be to just let them find us, to stay in one place. Well I asked him how we were going to keep our blood circulating if we don't move? He said that when he was in the military and they took survival lessons they were told that by briskly rubbing bodies together or with hands you could stay warm and keep your circulation going and that would be much better than to pass out from exhaustion walking corridor after corridor, going deeper and deeper, no food or water and not knowing when or even if we will find our way out. It all sounded perfectly logical to me, I mean it made sense. Don't you think?"
"Uh sure, makes perfect sense and what happened next?"
"Well anyway he said that he should start on me first and then I can briskly rub him when I was warm enough. So I stood there while he started briskly rubbing me and did you know he knew right where to rub to get me warm all over?"
"Uh hm, uh, er well I have heard of this survival technique, but a little vague on its procedure when in an actual survival situation, so you may as well give me all the details so I can paint the big picture so to say."
"I'm starting to wonder what kind of picture you are painting now."
"Go on, go on please with your story and remember, details are important."
"Well anyway he said he was feeling very numb from exposure and suggested I rub him briskly in a more active area on his person. That is when he slid my hand in his "more active area" that I really understood what he meant, I thought it would be like his chest first like he did to me and then grope around for a little while. Well I didn't realize that he had a hidden camera and he took pictures of me briskly rubbing his more active area."
"And what exactly is it that you would like me to do Miss.?"
"Oh that's right I haven't told you who I am, please forgive me. Miss Dew, Honey Dew."
"Nice to meet you uh...Miss Dew." smiling and thinking to myself that I hope she do.
"Now he is invited to Pookie's Christmas party and he said if I do not do some more brisk rubbing he would show Pookie the pictures and say it was all my idea. You have just got to get those pictures from him before he gets here."
"So this brewery guy is back in the Big Apple, Mr. Big is in San Fransisco, I am in Los Angeles, so how in the hell did you get my name off a toilet stall?"
"Oh that, yes. Well I was driving down to talk to a friend of mine to see if she knew of anyone who could help me. I stopped outside Los Angeles at an old gas station and went to relieve my self and freshen up and while I was sitting there I thought I would read up on the local scene and came across a poem devoted to you and how it made them move, but you know, I don't think it was in a romanticist way that you moved them, something in the poem anyway made me think that maybe you had upset this one a little bit, but she did manage to say you were a private investigator, she had a hard time finding a word for a specific part of her anatomy rhyming with that and below it your address, so I came to you instead."

If she went to all that trouble to find me, well I might as well take this case. Anyway as she would say, what do I have to do. I mean she is in the office.

"I'll get right on this Miss Dew. I just drive down to Tijuana and scrounge around for some information."
"Pookie is in San Fransisco, not in Tijuana. Why do you need to go down there to find out something?"
"I need to verify a few things and if there is anything to know, it will be known in Tijuana."

This I said in my most private eye demeanors and suavely assuring look. I mean it is one of those accepted perks, private investigators in Florida go to the Bahamas, Virgin Islands or the Caribbean to gather their "information", Los Angeles has Tijuana for the same bogus reason, we can get someone else to pay for it and it is like a mini vacation and so again cutting corners in the family tradition.

"How long will you be there looking for information?"
"A day, maybe day and a half depending."
"Depending on what?"
"Depending if I don't get caught up in a more intimate interrogation of a potential witness."
"Oh you mean if the hooker will go as low as you intend to pay."
"It would be strictly about the case I can assure you that. It will all be on the expense report with receipts."
"The party is on the 24th and this is the 22nd, you can't waste time."
"Was the 22nd, it is now 12:47, its the 23rd. You got someplace to stay while you are here?"
"I have my friend, but I haven't been able to reach her."
"Well I have a friend too, funny how that works. Well anyway this friend of mine is a private investigator too, I am not saying she would be willing, she may be on a case now and not have the time. Her name is Yadnus, Yadnus Drew. One of the better private investigators, she actually solves the case."
"Yadnus? What kind of name is Yadnus?"
"Chinese, on her mother's side. A very respectable name Yadnus. So how did you find out he was taking pictures?"
"Well he held this thing above his head that he said would absorb the body heat and then this thick piece of paper with a thin heat pack layer would eject out and then he would place under his armpits to help him fight the cold. I told why hadn't he let me use it too, he said when it was my turn to be briskly rubbed again I could have the warmers."
"Maam, that was a Polaroid camera, it makes pictures on the spot."
"I didn't know it was a Polaroid camera at the time though. He said it was to absorb body heat."
"Come on, we need to get going if we going to beat this thing."

We drove over to Yadnus' loft in a more ritzy part of town, 1:35am. She shot at me for a lot less before this, I still hope she will just be taking pot shots and not aiming.

I pressed the buzzer to her loft and waited for her to reply. I pressed it again, well maybe a half dozen to maybe 12 times more and finally she replied.

"I do hope this is worth a lot to you, because if it isn't worth anything to me, looks like someone will regret twice tonight and wished they had thought about it before doing it."
"Hey Yadnus, its me Stone."
"Okay. Stone who?"
"Stone Yadnus, Stone Head."
"Well which is it? Stone Yadnus or Stone Head?"
"Geez Yadnus, it is Stone Head. We worked that cycle theft ring together."
"You mean the tricycle thefts at the daycare center? That wasn't a case, that was me there dropping off my niece and you hitting on a teacher. All they had said was that the tricycles had disappeared and do not understand what could have happened to them. You are the one who started the investigation and then when you found out the janitor had repainted them the night before and was waiting for them to dry before returning them, still tried to charge them for your time. Go away."
"Come Yadnus just listen to me. I got a case on Mr. Big, well rather a case concerning him and I could use your help right about now."
"Mr. Big, the Mr. Big, Biggie Big out of San Fransisco?"
"Yeah, that Mr. Big."
"Go away."
"I got his attache with me here, you know the little secret from the wife and I just need a place to stash her for a few hours while I run down to Tijuana and do some fact finding."
"I thought Mr. Big was in San Fransisco, not in Tijuana. Isn't he having some sort of Christmas party on the 24th in San Fransisco?"
"Yeah he is."
"Yeah he is what? In San Fransisco or throwing a party on the 24th?"
"Yeah on both there Yadnus."
"Then why do you need to go to Tijuana to do some "fact finding"?"
"Good source of information Yadnus, you know that."
"A good source for you to find someone else to pay for it while you chase shots and senoritas all night."
"Its strictly business, why can't I get anyone to believe that?"
"I asked him the same thing and he acted the same way towards me. I think he is a lot like that no good Ruffie we are looking for."
"Ruffie? Ruffie from the brewery on the Hudson river next to the slaughter house and tannery?"
"Wow, yes how did you know?"
"You get lost in the er...uh..cooler..uh..vault too?"
"Oh geez, how did you know? You are a very good private investigator."
"And I imagine there were the survival tactics he showed you, so you won't die from being exposed from the elements?"
"Wow! You know all of this already and don't even know my name, you are good."
"How can I help you Stone Henge?"
"Its Stone Head Yadnus."

Now maybe it was just me, but I thought I heard a "too" in that conversation, so maybe Yadnus had a little more stake in this than I thought and maybe, just maybe at a more reasonably discounted rate. So I explained to her Miss Dew's dilemma and I just needed her to sit on her for a few hours while I drove down to Tijuana and did my investigating thing.

Next: Tijuana
Continued

Stories posted here are the exclusive property of the Smiling Pig. No other use or reproduction of the content contained here is permissible without written prior consent.

Merry Ho! Ho!

Again we find ourselves at the time of the year. Close to the ending of this one and a time we find ourselves reminiscing over the past year, new acquaintances, an old friendship, lost loves and family. Those things that we either hold close to us or those that managed to leave an impression on us, gave us reason to think and maybe shed light in an area dark before.

So to all those out there, friends, lovers and foes I wish you are yours a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year may this past season have given you each all that you wanted and to a few a little more than you deserved. Happy, mad, glad or sad we each managed to touch someone this past year and whether it spawned hate or love at least we managed to touch someone.

So are we ever really truly alone at this time of the year? Of course not, because somewhere out there is someone who only in their infinite minds holds the reason why she/he is either missing you so terribly she/he went through a dozen D Cells or wishing that you could contract some venereal cyber-clap, but at least, you managed to touch someone. Be that it was in a darkened room only lit by the luminescent glow of the computer's screen or in some loud crowded chat room, it started with those magical three letters, asl. Three little letters that led you both down that cyber-path of pseudo reality and an ecstasy only you can give yourself. At least you touched somebody, even if was only yourself.

There were some that came along that left more than impression, they embossed themselves in our thoughts and shared in enjoyable greetings when out paths crossed. It is those who indelibly imprint themselves upon us we find we have made a good friend and it is in those we find ourselves migrating to. Those who just by being who they are, as best you can on here, they have a way of giving you that reassurance that it is only the net and it is gone when you walk away. Those who portray a good heart and not ashamed of their convictions are people worthy of note and another gem stumbled upon amongst the stones.

Then there are those who you have known for some time, one of those you find yourself turning to when things are weighing a bit too heavy and knowing them that no matter how many times you turn to them, they are there with a smile and an offering based in wisdom sewn in experience. It is to these I turn to and humbly thank for never being too busy or time to precious that you could not spare a few moments with a lending ear and an open heart. Those who made long nights bearable and had a way of distracting you away from what you were feeling and those special ones who would walk you through your feelings.

So now is the time to hold no bitterness or angst in your heart, this is a time for rebirth and letting old business go. Time to shuffle through the clutter of the past year and decide what is truly important. In life we can only give of ourselves and it is that in us that we find we are of any worth when those close to us can turn to us and still see the other there. We hate so easily and we never learn to let go, never learned the best offense is no defense at all. We should know how we are seen, that is how we are accepted by those we share a keenness to, those we share company with, those we let see of ourselves more than most, these are who we should be thinking about and being thankful they are in our lives instead of holding something in you that only serves one's self and letting it eat away at what little happiness is left. Let go, it is only baggage from the past and nothing you should be dragging through life.

When we were little the world and life held so many possibilities for us, we could be anything we wanted and rarely did we harbor any hatred for anyone or anything outside of broccoli, carrots and beets, but we always managed to find a friend in someone we felt a kinship with. Think of these and those around you now and be thankful they entered your life and with some, thankful they stayed. In life we learn many lessons, even from those that think less of us than others, but is the connection with those you are close to that makes us more receptive as to what we learn or our willingness to learn. Hate comes with closed eyes, blind to truth and ignorant of acceptance and we need to let it go. Hate builds barriers, sets boundaries, causes wars and kills people, hate is no racist, but racism is its ally and it is this you have to drag through life with you day after day and constantly adding to it. The burden weighs heavy with each new day and the only one who really suffers for it are not the recipients of this hate, but the one who harbors it. Is it not enough in life that we bear the burdens we do out of no choice of our own without someone adding to it when all they have to do is let it go, let life open a new world, one much lighter and shed of that luggage that weighed every step they took. When young we do not see these things in our life, it was too full of other things to understand hate and our dislike always seemed to fade with every laugh. Children learn to hate and we are the teachers they turn to for guidance and reassurance and it is through our example that we will teach them. Do they really want them to grow up with the same bigotries, prejudices, ignorance and hate, is that the example we want our progeny to pass on to their children? Planting and replanting those seeds for no other reason than someone couldn't let go.

So all my friends or foes I leave with you:

So this I give to you, whether friend or foe
A very Merry Christmas and a Joyous New Year
Share in the warmth of friends and let the hate go
Enjoy in a rebirth and shed your old fear
It is the time of giving of laughter and joy
A time for repentance and shed a small tear
A time set aside to think and reminisce
To lend of yourself to family and friends
Think of others and not of yourself
Do not be complacent, this you need tend
Know life is short but see through a child

Have a very Merry Christmas and a Joyous New Year!

Momo: I hope that you and Hitomi have a very Merry Christmas and a Wonderful New Year! May the spirit of the season lighten your life as you share in the season with loved ones and friends.

April: Merry Christmas to you and a very Happy New Year and a prosperous Chinese New Year! Wherever you are, you are in thoughts of those who miss you.

Ami: I hope Santa is extra special to you. You have a Wonderful Holiday Season and stay safe and warm. You just about wore our your daughter's fuzzy Power Puff blanket.

$unday: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I hope you enjoyed your first snow. I know it was a special day for you and the enthusiasm in which you expressed was truly genuine. Firsts are always fun, you may not like it a second time around, but at least it is not left on your list of things to do.

Stinky: I am very proud of you and your graduation from the university, even though you drove me crazy on the thesis. Have a very Merry Holiday Season. Now go put it to use.

Sparrow: Flighty One, may you spread this season's joy and good will through every room on swift wing. Merry Christmas Sparrow and a very Happy New Year.

Later...

Aluminum Christmas

I can remember my mom and dad walking through the front door, Tye, Texas, Christmas of 1963. Mom's hands were full of bags from Montgomery Wards, J.C. Penny and Sears & Roebuck's and in dad's arms was a very long rectangular box with a picture of a tree stamped on the side like a bad lithograph, then setting it on the floor gave his orders to finish with the unloading of the car. Now normally this particular order would be received in a less than enthusiastic demeanor, because normally it was just to unload groceries, but these once a year trips were a little different and we fought each other to get out the door first. You never know, something or some gift could have accidentally fallen out of one of the bags and if it was yours then you had some insight as to what you could expect Christmas morning and if it wasn't yours and the recipient wasn't present, well then you knew how their Christmas morning would go, plus, yes there was even a bonus with this kind of find, it garnered a favor when you knew something they were getting and they wanted to know and these were the kind you did not waste on just anything. These kinds of favors had tremendous barter value, so taking out the trash or picking up a mess, even when it wasn't entirely yours to begin with were not considered as an even trade or a measurable favor and these were things that through the Christmas season you wanted to do yourself, especially if your parents personally witnessed it in its process. "Darn, look at this trash again, you'd think no one ever took it out. Well its not my turn to do it, but I see that the one who supposed to be doing it isn't, so I will just do it myself." There, a triple header, three birds with one stone, I get credit for doing a chore I am not responsible for that week, throwing one of my brothers in the fire and still retain my bartering piece. Some Christmases were made to remember. Anyway back to the story. Racing out to the car, stiff arming to gain a better position to grab a door handle we commenced unloading the sacks and racing back to the house so we could do it all over again. With nothing found in the car we all stood in the middle of the living room staring at 12 large white Montgomery Wards department store shopping bags. It was as if we were all struck instantly with the same exact epiphany, they always mix up putting stuff in the bags! For all we knew in one of those twelve shopping bags could be one of our presents, all at the same time lunged for the sacks like they were the last fried chicken leg on the platter. Torn paper flying we ripped through each and every sack only to find that they were filled with little boxes of blue glass Christmas ball ornaments, neatly nestled six to a box, 24 boxes, 144 solid blue glass Christmas ornaments, a box of silver wire ornament hangers, 36 feet of blue and silver tinsel garland, 50 silver and blue glitter snowflakes and one large box containing some sort of floor lamp with a four color rotating lens. Not one stray, missed sacked toy in the lot.

When my parents re-entered the room they asked if we wanted to put up the tree, the first thing my younger brother asked was, "What tree?" We all looked at each other, the tree, they did not bring home the tree and this was the day traditionally it was bought home, albeit the date varied from year to year, the day they did their gift shopping they bought home the tree, but this year they seemed to have overlooked that one small detail. My parents were still standing there with that "I know something you don't know." smirk, if they only knew that they grew out of that years ago and they were only fooling themselves if they thought that was going to work outside of it normal usage, between siblings. Again it was my younger brother who took action, this guy's attention span was about as big as his bladder so you wanted to try and keep him occupied as much as possible or he would be standing in a puddle before too long. He runs back out to car jumping up and down trying to get a look on the top of the car and then running around to the trunk to see if he could see pieces of branches sticking out, he turned to look at the front door and the frown on his face told us they had forgotten the tree.

"You boys get in the house, it is freezing out here." came my mom's voice as she turned back into the house. Again we found ourselves standing in the middle of the living room looking around trying to figure out what we were going to decorate. Dad walked over to the large rectangular box and pulled out the big copper staples and then carefully cut the tape, once the box was opened and the flaps pulled back to expose its contents, which didn't shed any light as to what was in the box, we were still just as befuddled and confused as we were when it had dawned on us there was no tree. One of the thoughts crossing my mind at the time was maybe they decided to spend the money they saved on not buying a tree on extra presents. That thought soon passed though because whatever was in the box was what they had spent any extra money on they may have saved. Layers of wax covered paper tubes were in the box and one by one my dad took out each tube and from the ends you could see shiny silver slivers. Once all the tubes were out of the box my dad lifted out what looked to be the base and three wood stakes with holes drilled the entire length and circumference. Finally, the instructions, or as we called them, the idiot papers. Those little stick figure directions that are just numbered boxes, front and back, top to bottom with no indication of where to start. As we watched dad reading the assembly instructions, page being turned in circles, turned upside down and sideways and then being the true man he is wadded it up in a tight ball, threw it in our general direction and said, "You know where to file it."

Landing near our feet we just thumped to the next standing by us until it got to my youngest brother who just knocked under the couch, that dimensional space that like a black hole seem to gobble up everything or at least was a good place to get rid of something. This space held special meaning to my younger brother, when he sat on the couch or laid down on it he would not let his legs or hands hang off of it, thanks to my next older brother who would lay down on the floor in front of the couch pretending to retrieve something and then act like something had grabbed him and was trying to pull him in. He would lay there thrashing about, pretending to try and pull his arm away. If I were in the room at the same time, he would not try this, seems every time he did my drink would usually spill all over him for some reason.

So, as we sat on the couch and watched dad try and figure out how exactly this thing he bought home was assembled my younger brother slid off the couch and walked over to the pole with the holes that dad had figured out how to insert into the base. There was stenciling on the poles, top, middle and bottom and thanks to my younger brother our dad realized that too, so muttering under his breath he rearranged the poles in their proper order and then set about looking at the silver tinsel branches. Again it was my younger brother who had been watching said, "Dad, why do the little holes have colored dots?" Dad looked at him out of the corner of his eye, "So you know what sequence to put...the...branches...on." Epiphany number two for the day. Dad looked at the ends of the branches only to discover that they too had a dot of color on them, "Don't you boys have something better to do than to just sit there like three lumps on a log?" came his self irritable question. It is hard to be one upped by a 7 year old and take it. So with that we walked down the hall and pressed our ears to mom and dad's bedroom door to see if we could hear the crinkling sound of wrapping paper and the zip of scotch tape. Definite indicators that mom was wrapping presents. She tended to do this as soon as she got home, she was always worried we would tear the house up when they weren't there trying to find them and for the sake of me I never understood why she would think the angels she raised would do such a thing. We already knew how to use heat from a candle to soften the adhesive on the tape, peel it back and see what was under the wrapping. There was no need to ransack the house looking for them. With our ears pressed firmly against the door in elevated steps, when mom opened the door holding her first arm load of Christmas presents all wrapped and decorated the three of us spilled into the room each yelling at the other in an attempt to point blames as to why we were at the door, "He pushed me, it wasn't my fault!" or "I was just going to the restroom when they pushed me in the door." then "It was his idea and I told him we shouldn't do it." We had found if we could confuse them from the beginning, then corporal punishment was only used as a threat and not delivered, so we tried to keep them confused as much as possible.

Running back into the living room we saw that without our help dad had managed to assemble the tree, which truly amazed us. "Were the directions easy to understand?" mom asked him. "Uh, yeah, not hard to understand at all." he replied. To me it was ugly, it didn't represent Christmas to me at all. A tall silver aluminum pile shaped into a likeness of a tree. Silver! Not even green, no pine scent, no sticky hands putting it in its stand. "Well you boys ready to help decorate it?" mom asked smiling. My two brothers quickly jumped up and each grabbed a box of ornaments and stood next to the tree. We had specific areas of the tree assigned to us, my younger brother was the lower branches, I was the middle branches and my older brother was the top branches. "Ronald Edward aren't you going to help?" mom asked. "No, I have some homework I need to do, I forgot about it." I answered as I walked off down the hall to my room.

Closing the bedroom door behind me I lay on the bed thinking of how they had ruined Christmas with that awful attempt of a tree. To me it just wasn't Christmas without a green tree, the tree was the focal point of the holiday season and how could someone ever think that a shiny aluminum Christmas tree could ever take the place of that? What would my friends think when they saw it? "What Ron, your parents too lazy to get a real tree?" Too bad recycling wasn't an option back then, because I thought that was were it belonged. To me it was one of those things you tried, didn't like and ended up in the office of the landfill the following Christmas. How could they do this to me? How could they try and replace something as important as a real Christmas tree with a boxed aluminum one? Parents, made you wonder if they ever really thought things through thoroughly before they did something. After almost two hours of some very serious sulking I pulled myself from the bed and walked back into the living room, there it stood, the anti-tree of Christmas all decorated with blue and silver ornaments slowly turning in its base, the lighted wheel throwing blue, green, amber and red on the shiny glimmering tinsel branches. "Humph, no lights on it at all, no bubbling lights, no strings of lights and not even the ornaments I grew up with on the branches. They have ruined Christmas for me, debased it, made a mockery out of everything I hold dear at that time of the year. From the kitchen I could smell chocolate, homemade Hershey's fudge. I wandered into the kitchen, dragging my feet and sighing, my way of letting them know something was amiss. "Want the spoon?" mom asked. At least this hasn't changed I thought to myself. I sat there licking the spoon and enjoying it when dad came in the kitchen. "Get your homework finished?" "Yes sir." I replied trying to sound as if all the details of Christmas that were important only concerned me. "Want to help me string the lights outside?" he asked. "What lights? We never had any outside lights." I answered looking up at him. "The lights we normally put on the tree, we can use those around the front windows and door. I could use some help." he continued. I drug myself out of the chair and followed him out to garage, dragging my feet and sighing all the way.

Standing on the front porch I held the string of lights while dad on a ladder stapled them to the window frame, he was talking, I really don't know what he said, my thoughts had wandered off to previous Christmases as I stared at the string of lights I was holding. I guess he noticed it too, because he jerked on the string of lights letting me know he wanted some slack to continue stapling them. "What is wrong with you today? Where is your mind at?" he asked looking down from that ladder. "Dunno, this just doesn't feel like Christmas to me." I answered him still staring at the lights. I didn't even noticed he had climbed down from the ladder.

"Come over here and sit."

"Why doesn't it feel like Christmas?"

"Just doesn't, that's all."

"What is it that you think is wrong?"

"That tree you bought home."

"The tree?"

"Yes the tree, it is fake, not real. Not the green tree we always had. It is not Christmas dad."

"You think it is the tree that makes Christmas?"

"It is a part of what makes Christmas."

"You think it is an important part?"

"Yes I do. That is not real dad, Christmas should be real."

"What is it about the tree that takes that away from you?"

"It is fake dad. It is aluminum, it is silver. Christmas trees are green and smell like Christmas."

"Ronnie, let me tell you something and then maybe you will understand. Christmas isn't in the tree, it just helps to represent Christmas, a symbol of Christmas. It does not make Christmas, it does not take away from Christmas having this tree. There are no rules but one about Christmas Ronnie, only one. It is not about Santa, receiving presents, having a real tree, none of these things make Christmas. Those are just decorations we use to illustrate Christmas. The only rule for Christmas is keeping an open heart, a forgiving heart, an accepting heart, to be happy you have your family with you and to count your blessing that we are still together. To be thankful for what we have, not be envious of others and to give of yourself with out expecting something in return. That is Christmas. That is what makes Christmas real, not the tree you worry about needlessly."

"That is what you always tell us, that that is the way we should always be."

"Yes, every day you should act like it is Christmas if you look at it that way, we only celebrate it at this time of the year. Now lets finish with the lights, its getting late."

It was Christmas eve, I had went to bed early that night. Not in anticipation of Christmas morning, I just couldn't get that tree out of my mind. I pulled myself out of bed and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. I could see the multicolored changing glow coming from the living room. "That tree." I sighed. I sat in my dad's chair facing the tree and looked at it as it rotated in its base, the color wheel changing the color, its light being reflected on the ceiling and walls. I just stared for the longest as I thought about what my dad had said a few days earlier. It really wasn't that ugly, just new I thought. Dad always said never be to harsh to judge something new, to give it a chance that you never know how it will turn out. Okay I thought, I will give this thing a chance and anyway with the money they will be saving on future Christmases maybe the benefit of this tree will show up in more presents. Stay positive.

Again, Later...

Stories posted here are the exclusive property of the Smiling Pig. No other use or reproduction of the content contained here is permissible without written prior consent.

Echo

I use the word echo a lot on my blog, to relate in some way so that all can understand. A memory, a thought that will not go away, those things we all have and can relate to. Thought many are different, they are still the same. A lost relationship, friendship, a new person or interest in your life, things we store away to return to and reminisce when we find that our only escape are our memories. We also store away our pain, joy, hurt, love, hate and a multitude of other emotions that surface when triggered by something someone might say, something we see or even that one who caused that particular emotion in the beginning and like echos, echos from the past they come with a resounding reverberation cross our plains of memory. Some that settle comfortably in our hearts as we close our eyes to lose ourselves there for a few moments bringing back to us that time in our life we felt that happiness. Then there are those that send a pain through out our entire being as we feel the very breath is being as we feel it pull us down into that abyss of painful loneliness.

"Regrets, I've had a few..." Frank Sinatra coined the song and it is in that place where we keep everything else out of the prying eyes of the world. It is a wrapping we cover certain memories with and we find ourselves peeling back a corner to have a peek of a time that now has us thinking if only I had done something different then maybe this memory would have turned out different. It is said we learn as we live and we live as we learn, that there is a reason for a past in our lives, not to live in yesterday, but to learn from it. Often regrets have us living in our yesterdays, mulling them over, trying to figure where on that path we lost that one walking next to us. At what point they became a memory, at what point we faded from their sight as they walked away to never look back.

Memories can be a blessing or a curse, they can bring back sublime times gone or they can torture you. There are memories that are bittersweet, those that makes us smile with a tear in our eyes, one that has left your life and whose mortal being no longer exists. It seems these memories we deal with or learn to deal with in time much better than those memories of ones that are still among us. We put them to their final rest and speak our last words to assure them and ourselves they will always be remembered, but those that we still can see, that we still can hear, those are the ones that seem to bring to us those memories that remind us that it will never come around again in our lives.

As much as we hate to admit it, as much as we tell others not to, we live in our past, we seek refuge there, we find comfort and a safe haven there, a place only we can go. We may at times share those memories with others, but only those we feel safe in sharing, because we will come across those in life that will use them against us, this we all know and have suffered.

Like echos memories fill our thoughts, carrying with them all our emotions. A road we travel alone, a bridge to our past that will forever keep them with us.

Later...

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For the Less Dyslexic

Seems lately a lot of thoughts have started backing up so to say in my head, confusion has started causing some strange things to happen. Slowly this confusion has worked its way from my gray matter to my fingers and it seems it has affected my typing abilities. So please bear with me as I muddle through this and try to untangle the jumble thoughts and clear things out a little. Do some organizing and throw a few things out. Maybe then my fingers will be back to normal and I can halfway function again.

I have been thinking about dyslexia lately and wondering how it affects people and if it is only sight to cerebellum related. My daughter is not dyslexic, but she could come up with some words that made you wonder if everything between her ears were terminated properly. Toe nail polish would come out “poe nolish” and seat belt would morph into “beat selt”. I would often wonder if maybe this was hereditary seeing how her mother had some words of her own that would make you think twice. A form of dyslexia or just temporary confusion where the brain is processing faster than your mouth, I cannot say, but can it affect other motor skills like writing? I have done intensive research into this and I have yet to find anything substantial to support it, but to me it seems it would stand to reason that something that could develop far worse if not treated in its early stages and affect those other motor skills we possess. I mean if you are used to seeing things a certain way in your mind it would be obvious that it could display other symptoms and surface without the affected person giving any real thought to it, as though to them it was perfectly normal. I mean after all an alcoholic doesn’t realize that they consume too much libations and the last time my home was broken into by a crack addict he failed to leave an iou and explaining his addiction to me, it was just the normal thing to do, need crack, no money, break into home, steal valuables, fence or pawn and buy crack. Normal SOP to a crack addict and nothing out of the norm, so in his mind, we should understand why when we sit down we are staring at a large rectangular blank space where our 50 inch plasma used to be.

I ponder the conundrum too deeply I think, maybe someone out there as a bit better insight to it than I do. After all I am not a neurologist and these things are a little over my head.

Later…

I do realize that dyslexia is no laughing matter and it affects millions around the world. This is not meant to be a pun towards them or their affliction in any way. If I have offended anyone posting this blog, please accept my sincerest apologies.

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Nah, We're Not Prejudice, Are We?

Chat rooms are fodder for so many things. I read a lot of blogs and they all or rather a lot of them seem to have something to say concerning chat and a lot of it is targeted at a specific group of individuals or one single individual. I know some like to think they are infallible, that they feel that they are open, accepting and without prejudice, but in all reality these too seem to want to go with the flow of the room so that they themselves will not be targeted for who they like to think they are.

I have been doing a lot of hopping lately, going from room to room, mainly staying in the Asian rooms and I sit and read what is being said and a lot of what I read is mostly people trying to position themselves in a better light. So they speak to each other and in doing so I am reminded of my school days where such groups were referred to as cliques. Each with their own preferences and if you did not fit into that clearly defined criteria of how they modeled themselves then you were considered an outcast, ostracized for not conforming to their idea as to how you should act and think.

I know as well as anyone else that we all have prejudices, it is human nature to see people different than ourselves as a threat. Man has acted on their prejudices through out recorded history and some were genocidal in their efforts to eradicate entire races due to their being different. Is being different really that bad? It is being different that makes us individuals, clearly distinguishable from others. So why is it that so many always want to be like someone else? Self prejudice, afraid that being seen as different will paint a target on their backs and make them the butt of someone's inane rhetoric? They conform, weak or ashamed, they conform to blend in with the rest and disappear and depending on the current clique in the room, like chameleons they will change their color again to blend in and disappear.

Most of man's moral attitude is based on prejudice and how he views the world and its occupants. Seeing their indifference as a threat and a weakness upon which he reacts. Bringing together those he feels that are of his thinking and displays his same moral values and using mindless verbal assaults commences to stir that same prejudice in others against those different to him. A coward that seeks others to go before him spreading that bile of prejudice.

It is said that birds of a feather flock together yet opposites attract, this I find confusing and an enigmatic oxymoron, they seem to null out each other, but yet we use them to fit our need at the time and in chat rooms they hold up to the letter. I am not saying I am not prejudice, I am, I am prejudice against stupidity, ignorance and poor moral values, but these are what I call temporary prejudices which can be overcome with education and learning to accept another for who they are, not what they are. I would like to think of myself as not being a judgmental person, but I am, if I weren't this page would be blank or I would be talking about how rosy the world is behind the rose tinted glasses I was wearing. I see no point in painting a world in perfect harmony when in fact it is as it has always been, in prejudiced turmoil. Will we ever shake this and realize that it is only the color of our skin, our religious beliefs, our moral values that separate us? That under those trappings we are still human beings no better than the one who stands next to us or no less. We are equal and we each have a right to live as we choose, what we feel is in our own best interest.

We need to realize that the world is getting smaller each day, with each baby born we give to this world our progeny, the ones that will carry forth our legacy and they will learn from us by our own example and it will be by what we teach them as to how they will view and accept others. We need to teach them that we live in a global community and no longer are we defined as countries within borders drawn on some map. That the only lines we draw are the ones that define our prejudices and until we learn that there are no such lines in the soil that separate us or define who we are those lines will forever set us apart.

Later...

Stories posted here are the exclusive property of the Smiling Pig. No other use or reproduction of the content contained here is permissible without written prior consent.