Humor

Tales From Vegas

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I am on my way to the airport and my stereo system , not finding the artist I commanded it to play,  chooses on it’s own.

Fresh beats hit the speakers and the sounds of  a dance number titled  “Breakfast in Vegas” by Praga Khan are reverberating around the panels of my Fiesta. That’s right , it’s a party on the road. I am a few hamsters shy of having a car commercial on my hands.

Since I am on my way to Vegas I find this whole scenario interesting but not worth much thought. Vegas as a force can put gravity to shame.  The origins of Vegas is a well known story but it is hard to believe that a group of writers were not involved. The collection of characters that inhabit this city should insure that no writer  ever passing through suffer from writers block.

From the neon signs that have been abandoned by their host buildings to the upside down check cashing sign and the house that Bugsy built there are tales clamoring to be told. Every corner turned and every hotel safe opened reveals a bit about the night or the decade before.

Checking into my room I inspect the functionality of the hotel safe. My laptop is old but it contains hundreds of stories and the thousands of hours spent crafting them. Once assured of it’s security I place my computer into it but discover an empty packet for some kind of endurance product named Rhino something or other. Wow,this person took their gambling serious, I thought.  I flipped over the other side of the packet and read the fine print.  A revelation popped into my head, oh that’s what they took seriously. I guess it was in the safe for extreme emergencies and I guess he had one.

Having locked up my dreams* for the night, I headed down to the street to join the characters that would inhabit my world for the next few days. I am in the downtown section of Vegas where things tend to be grittier. It has more of a state fair atmosphere than the strip. Less than a block from the hotel I discover a little bar that has a section exposed to the street complete with barstools outside so you can enjoy your drink and people watch at the same time.  I make a note of it and decide to check out what is happening further downtown. I am meeting up with one of my oldest friends tonight and by oldest I mean he has been a good friend for a long time. He also just happens to be older than me.** His flight puts him in Vegas a few hours from now so I have some time to burn.

I head down to one of the stage areas where free concerts are always going on. Tonight it’s Elvis. I am now officially in Vegas. Truth be told, I could have done better but there was not a keg of beer and a karaoke machine in site. After a while I move past Elvis and make my way down the block to the next stage complete with band. I didn’t catch their name but they seem to be a hair band tribute. Which hair band? Apparently all of them. After listening to their version of Bon Jovi’s version of  the Thin Lizzie song “The Boys Are Back In Town”, I decide that this is my cue to go back to my newfound bar because surely the boys are back in town

Getting back to the bar I  sit down at the outside section . It’s the kind of a place where they may not know your name but are friendly enough to make one up for you.

I pick up a drink menu. It announces  the name of this place as “The Park”. Strange, not a tree or blade of grass in sight, I thought. Glancing around I notice the only business sign attached to the building, a small unassuming neon job with an arrow pointing to the bar and the words “Park”.  That seals the deal. With the sign and the excellent beers on the menu I decide this place is now my favorite bar in Vegas***. I have officially found my orbit in the gravitational field of Vegas.  I obey the sign and stay for a while. I text my friend my location and settle in with a fine brew.

I people watch and continue to consume brews and time passes quickly. You know how it is when you are minding someone else’s business. I soon hear the familiar greeting of my friend and I welcome him to my new favorite bar. Seeing the “Park” sign he approves of my choice. We toast the visit and both agree that this will be a good time, tales will be told and new ones generated. Writers block should not be an issue for a while.

*Hey it’s a metaphor, I am trying to be literary here.

**Yes, its a smart ass shout out to my friend James.

*** When I am in a new town I feel that I have not officially visited unless I have found a favorite bar. It usually does not take long even in a large city. It gives me a home base for the current and perhaps subsequent visits.

Uncategorized

I Want A New Drug (Jonesing for Broadband)

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Living on the road for an extended time requires a decent place to stay. Corporate apartments are fine if you don’t have time to make other arrangements or the stretch your serving on the road is short.  If you’re doing at least six months you want your digs to be nice. Nice is not covered by corporate housing. Corporate housing covers convenience.

I had found the place, not perfect but close. It was nice. Because it was nice I had to rent furniture and arrange connections to the real world.  Getting a TV hookup turned out to be easy. The internet was another story. It was in high demand and the way I was being treated as a customer you would have thought it was a controlled substance.

“The soonest we can install is the 9th sir”

“January 9th, ok that works.”

“No sir, February 9th.”

“Are you serious?” Stupid me, stupid question. Yes they were, serious that is.

“Sorry, all of our appointments are booked up until then.”

“Well maybe you need to hire some more people”. They weren’t taking my business advice, go figure.

“Sorry sir. That is the soonest we can get to you”.

“Well ok.” They seemed to be the only internet provider* for my new building so what else could I do . Well, one thing I could do was not use the same company for television. Being a sports junky and avid , ok  rabid, follower of my alma mater basketball program I would not be able to wait a month for TV.

Turns out that wouldn’t be a problem. The cable TV division of the same company was prompt and efficient and I had my basketball fix toot-sweet. My internet fix was another story and my addiction to that substance was revealing itself to be much more serious than I thought. I was like a junkie with an out-of-town dealer.**

I went online in the business center of my complex to see if I could do the deal quicker. The providers website said they could do it almost three weeks sooner. That was a good thing considering the guard that shuts down the business center in the evening was fast becoming a friend.

Missed meetings with the internet provider began to drive suspicions and undercurrents of doubt. The day of another scheduled appointment I called the provider for conformation and to tell them to call the leasing office to be let in. The internet provider was insisting that someone who lives at my residence needed to be there during the 8 hour window for the appointment.  I was still waiting for them to ask If I was a cop.

“Sorry folks, I know it may come as a surprise but I work for a living. Something has to pay your fee.” The folks at my leasing office were more than welcome to let them in and be there during the entire time of the installation which much to no one’s surprise would not take more than an hour.

“Sorry sir, you or someone who lives there has to let us in”.

“So the people who provide the housing, the leasing office , are not good enough?”

“No sir”. Clever bastards, they must smell a shake down.

“Ok, then I will have to reschedule todays appointment for another time because , and I hope you’re sitting down, It will be inconvenient during my work day  to not be at work that entire day”.

“Are you sure sir?”.

“Yes, I am pretty sure work is expecting me to show up at some point during the day. I have to reschedule”. Fortunately they had a four-hour window available the following Monday , just a few days later. Perhaps If I keep running this grift I can actually get them to show up first thing in the morning and get it done in an hour. Ok , who was on drugs now? 

Ten hours later I am walking out of work on what was a shorter than usual work day to find umpteen messages on my voicemail. Several of which were whispering communiques from an employee of the internet provider and several were messages from the leasing company.

“..static ..static…Sir this is , garbled voice, from , garbled voice, to install your internet. I am on the way to your address”…

…“ Sir, this is so and so from the leasing office and we have your internet provider here. Is it ok to let them in?” …

“…static …garble garble, sir this is static garble garble from the internet provider. I am at the leasing office waiting to be let in.”

Strange, only the calls from the provider seem to be unintelligible. More importantly, why were they showing up for an appointment that was cancelled?

I had learned two things at this point. The first was that the installer knew the leasing office could let him in and the second was that the internet/communications company had a problem with communications. Ironic or moronic? You choose.

I got home to find out that I was still sans internet. I called the leasing office to let them know that I really meant it when I signed the access permission form and they didn’t have to call me. I then called the provider and promptly entered the mind numbing world of Kenny G as they put me on hold.  Shortly afterwords I succumbed to a Kenny G induced coma, an altered state I recommend to no one. I woke up at the breakfast bar at 2 AM,  thought it was a shame it was too early for breakfast and dragged myself to bed.

Monday morning arrived and the urge confirm the days  appointment with the internet provider was met by the memories of an alto sax seeping from my brain and I thought better of it. I had heard more Kenny G  in one lifetime than should be allowed by compassionate human beings.

Returning that evening from a long work day I was greeted by a service order confirming that I now had access to the internet. I fired up my computer and navigated my browser to Google for my first search “Overdose Therapy Kenny G” which returned the following results after dropping duplicates: “Lots of Heavy Metal, Three Power Chords, cranked up to 11.” With a promise to apologize to the neighbors, I walked over to the stereo and began the recovery process.

*Provider, that kinda sounds drug related. Well in America anyway.
**Hey, I have seen enough cop shows to know the lay of the land.
Humor

Forward Progress

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Corporal Daniel Thomas of the National Galactic Federation sucked on a freeze-dried coffee cube and pondered the days activities. Nothing was planned. This was not out of the ordinary aboard the USS Librarius. His two-year mission was to boldly go where no librarian had gone before. As a consequence of too much sitting he was stressing his butt cheeks  like no man had stressed his butt cheeks before.

For the sake of his sanity he had taken to reading through the libraries vast collection of electronic records. He belonged to the record keeping section of the federation, the American Sun StoreHouse. Yes he worked for ASS. The acronym was unfortunate and not well thought out but their mission was important none the less. They were in charge of the accumulation, storage and preservation of all known collected data generated by earth before its sun burnt out. That’s ASP for those keeping track of acronyms. Yes, fairly tame.

Up until this mission all he had known about the suns extinguishment was that it had caught the earths inhabitants somewhat by surprise. The only survivors of the planet where those that were off world attached to some government mission or on a private space tour. This had always baffled him. It wasn’t as if they were without warning. Although pretty quick, light from the sun did take some time to reach earth and the process of fuel burning out wasn’t like switching off a light. There would be some dimming for a while which would have prompted people to get their shit together.

He had stumbled upon the explanation quite by accident and much to the surprise of the scientific community. The details of how he came to his conclusions had not yet been published and currently he was dancing around that subject as long as he could. For the moment he was front and center on the world’s stage and he intended to stay in the spotlight as long as possible.

He had started a daily habit of reading through the diary section of the personal records collection. These were all known recovered diaries of the last inhabitants of earth. Initially it was slow going. They were quite cryptic and seem to be encoded. They began to make sense once he figured out they were ordered by the age of their authors. Since most of them he had been started when the authors where teenagers, the word “like” was used to fulfill every part of the structure of a sentence, often multiple parts of the same sentence.

This realization allowed him to skip forward to their later collections where the use of the word “like” became infrequent and took on its traditional role in a sentence. Clarity was much more frequent. It was here that he began to formulate his idea or what the scientific community would call his hypothesis.

He noticed many references to the use of devices called smart-phones. It seems its use had replaced most forms of human interaction. There were many examples of authors chatting to friends solely through the use of email , chat sessions and something called “words with friends”. No location or venue seemed to be off-limits as to where these interactions took place. Some authors wrote of using their smart-phone to order and pay for a coffee while waiting in line at the coffee shop, thus making the minimal amount of human interaction required to order a coffee obsolete.

An idea , usually the result of the last gasp of a dying brain cell, appeared in Daniels mind sans thought bubble. How much of the earthlings normal attention span had now been occupied by these smart-phones?

Consulting the accident report section of the news archives,  he noticed a correlation between the rise of accidents and the rise in use of smart-phones. There were smart-phone related accidents during every activity that occupied human lives. Even sex. Don’t ask, you don’t want to own that imagery. The participants survived. Their relationships however did not.

People had become so addicted to their smart- phones they were not paying attention to anything else in their environment. Their lives had become one big commercial for mayhem.  His hypothesis was that It was entirely possible that any changes to the intensity of the sun went unnoticed by the earthlings.

Daniel found it morbidly interesting that all during history, the culling work of Darwin had been greatly usurped by a small handful of bright individuals and that the ultimate culling was brought on by another small handful of bright individuals. So while the meek did not inherit the earth it was certainly the geek that brought it to its knees.*

* The author is proud to call himself a geek and contends that the bible contained  a typo and it was always intended that the geek inherit the earth.

Note: There is some suspension of scientific opinion required for this one.
Scientists agree that billions of years from now the sun will expand into a red ball and die. The earth is going to get much hotter making global warming look like a slight fever. The oceans will boil away. Planets near the sun will burn and become the dream of every executive at Kingsford, big orbiting chucks of charcoal.

Note 2: While writing this at , where else, a coffee shop the author observed a group of customers, arranged in a line of tables, all of them concentrating on whatever they were typing on their Macbook Airs. They did not appear to be interacting with each other but since he could not see what they were typing who knows. The icing on this surreal slice of life cake was that they all were bobbing their head in time to the Salsa music blaring out of the shops speakers.

Humor

Two Hundred and Thirty Seven Years of ‘Blowin’ Stuff Up

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May 13th 3pm 1787

Location: The Mulberry Tree in Ben Franklin’s Back Yard.

George Washington looked at the grandeur of the mulberry tree and smiled.

“Something on your mind George ?”, asked Ben.

“ I have been thinking about the Great Constitutional Convention that starts tomorrow.”, replied George.

“Yes. It will be long, arduous and full of contention. It will be worth it but what would make you smile?”, asked Ben.

“Once it is complete,  the future of this fledgling nation will be much more secure. “, replied George.

“Yes I would suppose you would be correct in assuming that. I would think that establishing  the security of this nation would be worthy of a  smile or two .” , Ben responded.

“Well yes certainly securing the future is worthy of that but I was also thinking of the Independence Day celebrations to come”, stated George.

“Oh really, pray tell what will they look like ?”, asked Ben.

“I see grand parades of common citizens bedecked in the red white and blue. I see much pageantry giving way to patriotic songs. I see festivals full of music and dancing and much food being consumed in celebration.”

“Well that is one possibility”, replied Ben.

“Do you see another Ben?”, asked George.

“Well,  I see a lot of people blowing up stuff”, replied Ben.

“That could work also.” , stated George.

Humor

Twenty Hits of Viagra and a Bottle of Gin

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Road Warrior, I  have travelled enough for work to earn that title. This may come as a surprise but the experience is not as exciting as the moniker may lead one to believe. I have never ridden in a hopped up Ford Falcon with an Aussie sidekick who strangely speaks with a dubbed in voice.

I have logged hundreds of thousands of air miles crisscrossing the country and sometimes the world. It is not glamorous but I have accumulated a large collection of stories to tell.    Add a stolen credit card number to the  pile. You never know the tastes of those stealing your credit card. Their purchase could stay on your permanent record.  If I had a choice it would be someone charitable or a person who would not be in need of anything embarrassing.  You can probably see where this is going but don’t spoil it for the others.

Now I have a theory as to how this came about,  in short it probably was the  result of an accidental credit card swap during a dinner with colleagues and a less than honest gas station attendant believing my card was already stolen. I returned to the home office a few days later and was greeted with a message from the credit card company on my voicemail. Calling them back I fully expected to have to explain some of my coworkers charges. It turns out that was just the tip of the iceberg.  According to the customer service rep there were some questionable charges on my card. “That’s interesting tell me more.”

The first charge was for a small amount incurred at a retirement community near where I was staying.  Strange I thought.The next charge was for $400 dollars at a drugstore again near where I had been staying.  I was on the edge of my seat, the plot was thickening and things were getting interesting.  Sorry, out of clichés.  The third item on my card  , and the one that tipped off the credit card company was another charge at the afore-mentioned drug store. This time for $200 and finally it was denied.

Initially I was at a loss for words, something that has not occurred with much frequency in my lifetime. Check with my friends and family they will concur that the longest time I have gone without speaking were times that I was under anesthesia during various medical procedures. No , a lobotomy was not one of them.

When I had gathered my thoughts they were as follows: “What the heck was a retiree doing with my credit card number and what could they buy for $400?” My first thought was antihistamines for meth production . Sure a little late in life for Grandpa to start climbing the ladder towards becoming a  drug lord but maybe it was on their  bucket list or perhaps they were supplementing their social security checks or even inspired by Breaking Bad.  It was then that I remembered that the real stuff took an ID and signature . That means they would have had to purchase in person and since it was only my number that was missing, that was not possible.  Then I thought ,” if I were in a retirement community what would make me  popular with the ladies?” A million dollars in cash and a bag on my head. Ok , now I was just being silly . Then I hit on the answer. Viagra. From what I hear*, it can be expensive. I also figure that by then I will have acquired a taste for gin, I don’t see how but it is probably cheaper than Single Malt Scotch.  Yea, that combination could ring up a $400 credit card charge.

So far I have not heard whether the authorities have caught up to this character but how hard could he be to find?  “…so and so retirement community can I help you?”  “Yes , this it the local police department. We are looking for an older guy, playa type , smelling of gin, may be showing signs of extreme fatigue but still manages to smile all of the time. Does this match any of your residents?”

* No really , word gets around, people talk, you hear things.

Humor

The Stick Figure of Uncle Bingo (with a nod to Oscar Wilde)

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If you have followed my adventures here, you know that I kind of look like everyman *. What you may not know is that I have often been thought of as being much younger than I really am. I am about to reveal my secret, so keep it to yourself folks.

In the summer of 2000 my niece came into the world and a few years later she gave me the nickname of Uncle Bingo**. Her reasoning was “I don’t know just because”. Well who was I to argue. A while later, after it looked the nickname was going to stick, I received a picture from my niece. It was a wonderful rendition of Uncle Bingo in Colorado.  The mountain peaks were jagged , the grass was green and Uncle Bingo was stick like. It was beautiful and I proudly displayed it upon my refrigerator.

Over the years the picture has remained on my fridge but is in less than pristine condition. Through cooking sessions, yes I cook and quite well ladies, late night snack raids and early morning breakfasts without my glasses, the picture has become slightly stained, smudged and encrusted with barbecue sauce , juice and yogurt. Yes in that order , it documents my path to a healthy lifestyle.  Stick Figure Bingo did not fair well and could not avoid the “crustification”.

When surprised to find out my age many people have remarked that they thought I was at least 10 years younger. If I were to estimate the age of the picture it would be around 10 years. A coincidence perhaps but it’s not as if I have lived a healthy lifestyle my entire life. I certainly had some misspent years during my youth and there was also my “pool hall “ period. No, I am sticking, no pun intended, with my story. My nieces picture has frozen me in time. It continues to “crustify” and I continue to appear ten years younger.

Go ahead, don’t believe me. You’ll change your mind when some time from now the blue, green and flesh-colored crayon succumbs to time and spillage and my physical appearance transforms from Uncle Bingo to stick figure Bingo. At least I won’t be confused with anyone else.

* see http://thesoundoflaughter.wordpress.com/2013/05/21/im-that-guy-from-that-thing/

**see http://thesoundoflaughter.wordpress.com/2013/03/20/uncle-bingos-travelling-road-show/

Humor, Uncategorized

Growing Up Catholic

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I was raised Catholic in a Polish Neighborhood in Chicago. I also went to a parochial school of the Catholic variety. What occurred at the school was most of the major trauma that would shape the rest of my life.

I fell in love with reading from the minute I was exposed to the perils of Dick and Jane.  That series soon lost its luster due to the thin plot lines and it was not long before I graduated to reading more sophisticated material. When my reading level had reached to two years beyond my grade I was inducted into the Great Books Club. It was a national program designed to encourage excellence in reading. The club was like any other book club in that its activities consisted of reading assigned selections and then analyzing them. What was unique is that the reading material was purposefully beyond the traditional level of its participants. I was a member in my first year of eligibility as a second grader and the next year as a third grader.  I was looking forward to making it my fourth year.

Sister Leonard Ann* had been teaching fourth grade at my school since forever.  She had actually taught my father and his brothers.  I am not sure I ever heard a good story about her. She was a hateful soul from year 1 and by that I actually mean the first year after Christ died. She was that old. I think Jesus sensed she was on her way and feeling the futility of the future turned himself in.

I entered the fourth grade looking forward to the fifth grade. I just had to survive Sister Leonard Ann.  It soon became apparent that for that to happen I had to have luck on my side. It also became apparent that I was not lucky.

I had heard about the sister’s teaching technique from my father and uncles but nothing can really prepare you for the book throwing, knuckle smacking and ear pulling she employed. Well nothing short of a 3 Stooges marathon in 3D. The one thing I had not heard about her was her ability to psychologically break a kid down. I soon became convinced she must have been used to interrogate prisoners during the wars. Yes its plural, I meant all wars.

It was after the first month of school that the Great Books Club members for the year would be announced.  I expected this year to be no different. “.. Walter Praczek, Susan Shirzinski and Alan Vostek. Well congratulations children.”  My face matched the writing paper on my brand new Big Chief Notebook, pale and blank. I had no idea why my name was not called and I was losing a battle to prevent tears from flowing.  Glancing around the room the Sister’s shark like gaze fell upon me. “So tell me Mr. Szybinski.  Why did you not make the club this year?” “I, uh, I don’t know.” Then the dam broke and I could see nothing through the refraction of the tears. A few moments but what seemed like hours later the Sister announced that I had indeed made the Club. I first felt relief but that quickly morphed into anger.

Why had the bitch humiliated me? Well, I would have thought, “bitch”, if I used the word.  The vocabulary of a nine-year-old Catholic schoolboy in 1970 Chicago generally did not consist of the word bitch. The only word I had at my disposal was wench. A strange word for a nine year old boy but I read a lot. Maybe it was Nathaniel Hawthorne. The author did not matter; the point was she was a wench.

That experience has stayed with me all of my life but time has helped smooth that wound over. I had told this story to my mother a few years back and she was surprised I did not tell her and dad, “Your father would have marched right over to that school and straightened her out.” I bet he would have. I would have loved to have seen it. I had never considered telling my parents at the time. The “good” Sister was a nun and an authority figure and I just figured I had done something wrong.   The experience now is pretty much just a story to tell although from time to time I find when something good happens I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I guess this experience is not done with me or I it. I sense the need for a cathartic book in my future.

*The name has been changed to protect the innocent (me).

Fathers Day, Memories

Something Different for Father’s Day: Fathers Day Blues, Soon to be Brights.

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It will be my eighteenth Fathers Day with out my father. I woke up feeling a bit sad. Yes, I still miss him. I always miss him. Feeling the need to express my self in a more mournful manner, I picked up my guitar and began to play some blues progressions. I usually begin too fast and slow down as the moment takes me. I was starting to reach the proper tempo where the feeling in my soul begins to resonate with the notes but before that happened I stopped and decided that I needed to look at his death with a different perspective.

I put down the guitar and thought about this. I thought about my sense of loss but more importantly my father’s sense of loss. My father was a type one diabetic almost his entire life. He was diagnosed at a time when the only self administered glucose test was a urine test. Use of the urine test is kind of like using a history book to predict today. It reflects the amount of blood sugar of the past not the present. It also does not reflect low blood sugar levels.  Because of this it was very hard for diabetics to be accurate when trying to maintain normal blood sugar levels. It’s the extreme rise and fall of blood sugar in a diabetic that causes major damage to many of their organs.

My father’s body was no exception. By the time he was in his mid 50’s, the blood circulation in his legs was poor and several procedures to increase blood flow showed minimal success.  It became very hard for him to walk and his vision was very poor.  This was difficult for me to witness, I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to live through. He had been very active his entire life and he was now unable to take part in many of the things he loved.

I look back at  the direction my dads body was headed, with blindness and amputations just around the corner, and I know that it was a blessing that he never got to that point. I have suspected this as truth for a while but I was hoping that full recognition of  this would help me become more at peace with his passing.

I went back and picked up my guitar, hoping I could now play a happier tune. I strummed a few chords to the Eagles “Take It Easy” but they just didn’t hold together. I thought that my soul was not ready for such an upbeat tempo so I then tried “Teach Your Children” by Crosby , Stills and Nash. Still it fell flat. I then went back to the blues and my soul hummed in harmony with my guitar as my fingers danced along a blues progression in E.

I guess I will be a bit selfish for a while longer but the good memories I have and the knowledge that he is at peace will help me to strum a less mournful tune someday.

If you liked this story, or not ,  please give to JRDF: http://jdrf.org/

Humor

Review of “A Life So Far” (a writing exercise)

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Location: The set of a local access TV show 

“Welcome to ”Back in the Stacks “the show that reviews books that are long forgotten or still in development. Yes I know we don’t get many books that meet that latter criteria but we’re on local access for a reason.

I’m William Parchemine the former book reviewer for  “Slush Pile”  the Semi-Periodic about lost books.  Joining me is Frederic Scribner the author of  “Dusty Stacks – The Reader’s Guide to Books you didn’t know you owned”. Today we are actually reviewing a  book still in development entitled “Tommy Szybinski – A Life So Far”.

“So Fred what is your take on “A Life So Far” so far?”

“Well William, as I have mentioned since the beginning of this show four years ago I prefer Frederick. As for the book, I think the beginning was predictable with the birth of Tommy Szybinski but it drew me in as it moved along.”

The early years showed lots of promise in priming him for the life of a Renaissance Man. It emphasizes Tommie’s Catholic upbringing on the Polish streets of Chicago. Now here is my first problem with the early chapters Bill.  It does not explain the difference between a Polish street or any other one in Chicago. Does that mean there is a Kielbasa vender on every street corner?”

“Fred , I think it  means the street he lived on was in a Polish neighborhood.”

“Could be Bill but I wish he would have explained that.”

“You say Its only been four years Fred? Sorry, please continue.”

“Well Bill, as I said the early years laid the groundwork for the pursuit of several interests in Tommie’s  life thus the term Renaissance Man.”

“Yes I think the audience got that Fred. Please go on.”

“Well after a period of Catholic schooling long enough to mess up any kid, his father is transferred to Topeka Kansas, talk about a culture shift Bill. The next few chapters deal with the effect of the move on Tommie’s later years. This is where I had another problem with the book Bill. There was no mention as to how Tommie’s life had been affected by the lack of Kielbasa in Topeka. I mean, I don’t know anything about Topeka but It doesn’t strike me as a place you can get good Kielbasa.”

“ I don’t know about that Fred but my take on your Kielbasa controversy is that it is not germane to the story.”

“Oh there you go with your fancy words Bill. I take it you mean it’s not important to the story but I disagree.  I kept wondering how Tommy was going to feed his polish sausage habit but that was never addressed.”

“Fred, there was no indication that Tommie had a Kielbasa habit and I would like to drop this line of discussion.”

“To each his own Bill. The book did address how Tommy dealt with being the only Polish kid in a Smith and Jones world. You liked how I put that?”

“I liked how you took that from the book.  This is the part of the show where I cut in to make a dramatic point.  Do you mind if I take over here Fred?”

“If you stop calling me Fred I wouldn’t mind if you dated my wife Bill”.

“Ha ha, Good to hear that Frederick,  really , I am.  We have come to my favorite part of the story, the moment when Tommy’s fifth grade teacher explains to him that projectile textbooks are not part of the approved methods of the Topeka school districts.”

“Projectile Textbooks Bill?”

“Yes, the technique of throwing books at the student to correct chalkboard math mistakes. This was a favorite technique of one of the Chicago nuns.”

“Oh yes, now I recall.”

“Yes Fred you should, that was also from the book. This comes as a relief to Tommy and he soon gets rid of the case of chalkboard shoulder he had developed in Chicago. “

“Yes Bill, I like that term he coined to describe the pain he developed from holding up his non writing arm to block incoming books”.

“I’m glad you liked it Fred. Where was I? Oh yes, now that Tommy has no reason to fear school, learning becomes enjoyable. It was at this point that his parents buy a set of encyclopedias. You remember those Fred?”

“Oh yes I do Bill.  Misty water-color memories.”

“That’s special Fred. Anyway this is convenient timing because Tommy is slow to make friends in Kansas. Instead of friends he turns to the encyclopedia set, all 26 volumes.”

“ I believe that was 28 including the yearbooks Bill.”

“Sharp as a tack Fred, sharp as a tack.  In lieu of friendships, Tommy reads all 28 volumes, including the yearbooks, to fill his time. This fuels a thirst for knowledge that drives him the rest of his life. It also makes him great at trivia games.”

“ I’ll take it from here if you don’t mind Bill. Well there are events that fuel Tommie’s interest in science but I will leave those for the reader. Lets skip to the college years where Tommy has no particular major in mind.  I like the foreshadowing that occurred when a writing instructor suggests that he has the talent to become a writer. We get a nice view into his mindset at this point when he says “not until I have lived enough”.  Tommy, influenced by his dads work in data processing, decides to major in computer science. This is a perfect outlet for Tommie’s scientific propensities.”

“Oh now who’s talking fancy Fred”.

“I’m just try to keep up Bill. Upon graduation Tommy gets a dream job writing real-time operating systems. The problem I had here Bill is that I have no idea what that means.”

“No surprise there Fred.”

“Anyway, at this point in Tommie’s life his career is going along nicely.”

“And this is where I have a problem with the book Fred.”

“How so Bill.”

“Well his love life at this point has not set the world on fire let alone causing smoke anywhere.”

“I disagree with that Bill. There were mentions of a few girlfriends along the way. There was also the reference to the girl who Tommy let get away in college and the occasional allusion to regret.”

“That’s true but I would have loved to have seen things end differently with that one.”

“Yes but Tommy let that go Bill. Why can’t you?”

“Well put.  So what do you think of how the books third act is shaping up Fred?”

“Well Bill , I had hoped the growth that Tommy had shown in the previous chapters would  set him up for a rousing third act. Being honest though , I just don’t see it. He relocates from the east coast to Colorado and while this change has made him much happier his love life is still an empty wasteland”.

“Ok Fred I hate to cut you off here but I am not really sure you really payed attention to the last part of the book.”

“You caught me Bill. I admit it . It just looked like an intellectual type book that would impress the ladies at the pool.”

“I thought so Fred,  let’s get back to Tommy who has rediscovered writing. Finding it quite fulfilling he takes classes and eventually begins writing a book of fiction”.

“How does it turn out Bill?”

“Well Fred this is where the book leaves off”

“Leaves off?”

“Yes Fred. That’s why we called it an unfinished story”

“Oh, that makes sense. If you were to ask me, I would say I don’t think it’s going to end well.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you Fred. Unlike you, Tommy is a glass half full kind of guy. I think his positive outlook will carry him through life. If he continues his dedication to becoming a good writer I have to believe his story is only going to get better.”

“I hope you’re right Bill, In the meantime this is Frederick Scribner”

“And this is William Parchemine hoping you find a few treasures in your book stacks”

“Book Stacks?”

“Its a figure of speech. Say good night Fred”.

“Good night Fred.”

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/06/06/daily-prompt-four-stars/

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