The New Residencia

Editor – Ice

Dep Editor – Pup

Vice Pres – Daze

Exec VP – Six

Exec VP - Scratch

Exec VP - Jonnie

The Weekend

“So…. He said, looking around; I guess the question is what have we been doing”?

“How about you Cat… any more children besides the son”?

“Yeah a daughter, his big sister, she’s 24, he’s a year younger”.

“I’ve got three sons, the oldest is 26, do we want to brag on the kids now or later”?

“Later man”, he said, repeating it under his breath as he stood up and walked over to the window and stared outside.

“You know I turn 50 in a few days, but it seems as if the time always slams me hardest in the mornings”.

I looked at him as he turned from the window.  He didn’t look 50 to me; he looked 23 or 24, not a day older.

“Kind of like – chapter skip – on the dvd isn’t it, I said, and poured myself another shot.

“Hey man”, he said, eyes smiling at me as I looked up at him, “you never thanked me for saving your life out there.”

“Yeah, I replied, looking back down at the shot glass on the table, and then saying, “I guess we’re even”.

A little chuckle from him, then, “Does it bother you I never wrote, you know, thanked you and all”?

“Nah, not in the least, you didn’t owe me anything, and in reality it was Squeaky’s doing”.  “It did bother me you didn’t write though”, and tipping the glass up, I drained it and set it down on the table, easily.

“How much trouble did you guys get into”?

“Actually it turned out real good, Squeaky got his transfer; they sent him to an Infantry unit in the Cav, somewhere up North, I never knew where exactly”.

Cat poured me another shot, and then himself, and as he studied his glass he said, “ever hear from him”?

“In 83 or 84, he called me on a Sunday, told me he’d remembered that Mom and Dad lived in ‘Allen Town’, not but a few‘ Tyler’s there and they’re all related.  Got my number and called me, he was a little crocked, he said it was a rainy day in L.A., and he’d just talked to Jenson on the phone. You remember Jenson, he worked at C Battery.”

“Yeah, punkass white boy from California, would of thought he’d already bought it with that mouth of his”.

I smiled, thinking of Squeaky, and said, “well you know how Squeaky was, everybody liked him, even the ones he pissed off”.

Killing his drink, Cat wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  Standing, he said, “yeah Squeaky was right in my book, that’s for sure”.

Walking over to the door, he looked outside. 

“What did they get him for”?

“Oh, let me see, I said, laughing, endangering personnel in his command for no logical reason, flying without a door gunner, and telling the Sgt Major to go fuck himself, in fact he told him that a couple of times that I remember”.

Cat laughed, stopped, took a drink and started up again laughing, and spewing whiskey out his mouth, he began coughing and gagging, all the while laughing.

 I was wondering if I was going to have to perform the “Heimlich Maneuver” for a minute, till he finally got his breath and sat down at the table, laying his head down on it, cradled in his arms.

Eyes watering, he looked at me saying, “what was the official ruling?” 

“Wasn’t one”, I said, laughing as I poured some more whiskey for both of us, “ those things were just what the Colonel used to justify signing his transfer request”.

“It was, I continued, either that or let the Sgt. Major railroad him out of the Army”.

“Actually I think he had to buy the motherfucker off too”.

“Shit’, Cat said, as he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair”.

“How bout you, were you pissed with what Squeaky done”?

“Not at the time”, I said, remembering that day as I looked at Cat, and smoked my cigarette.

Nam….

As we made a wide circle over the coconut trees I tried to see what Squeaky had seen, but there was nothing that I could see, except for a whole lot of trees. 

I could hear Roberts calling for the “gun ships” out of Cam Rahn, even heard the crackly response: “they’ll be there in 20 minutes, keep a safe distance man”.

I laughed out loud to myself, cussing as I tried to position the gun which all of sudden felt very unfamiliar to me.

The idea that I was about to shoot this thing at the enemy would have been laughable if it wasn’t for the chopper lazily dropping over the top of the trees, coming up on the area that Squeaky said he’d seen the sniper, and picking up speed.

Did I know at the time that we were violating every rule in the book? No, but I wasn’t thinking of rules, in fact, I’m not sure exactly what I was thinking of, unless it was just pure fear.

If I’d not been so fucking scared I might of thought about what we were doing, but as it was, I was scared for Cat, at least I thought it was Cat down there, hell I didn’t know for sure, and I was so scared for myself that it was like my entire body was a bundle of nerve ends - hooked up to high voltage.

I was fumbling with the least little thing, got tangled in my harness and thought fleetingly of cutting myself out, all the while thinking of what I used to say when I played ball, “god just don’t let me screw up”.

And for just a second, I thought about the guys calling me “cool,” and then all thoughts were off as Squeaky brought us down to below treetop level, and in my helmet I heard him yelling, “there’s the little bastard, see him?”

I saw him then, and sometimes I see him in my dreams, he was firing at the truck, if he saw us or heard us, it wasn’t registering with him.

And suddenly everything came into perfect focus for me, it was like he was a piece of wood floating in the ocean, and as my finger felt for the trigger, I pointed the “60” behind him and started firing, trying to lead the bullets to where he was, just squeezing the trigger, watching the rounds hit some of the trees to his left; so I closed the travel a little and led the bullets into him, not unlike a quarterback would lead the ball to his receiver.

When I saw a section of his shoulder pucker like in slow motion, and then part of it fly off in a jagged piece of red blood and flesh, I started calling him “dumb motherfucker” –

 “you dumb motherfucker” I yelled at him, holding the trigger down, pumping the bullets at him, and as if he’d heard me, he turned, and I saw him looking at me, a hurt look in his eyes, as if I’d done something bad to him, and then he fell out of the tree, and Squeaky yelled something at me, and the chopper jerked up and into the gray and black sky, as I felt the first rain drops of the coming storm…

…and Squeaky kept yelling, “you got him, god-damn it, you got him”.

The New Residencia

“What’s the problem”, I asked again, and just before he started talking, I wondered where Susan was; she was at least 30 minutes late, which wasn’t like her at all.

“ It’s going to sound crazy to you - you’ll have to understand that going in”, he said,sighing and wiping his forehead with a shaky hand.

I leaned back in my chair, and looked at him, waiting.  He sighed harder than before, and reaching inside his shirt he pulled out some sheets of paper, old looking paper that had been folded and creased many times, like an old letter; looking at it for a few seconds, he handed it to me.

“Read this Colleen….

“Shit” I thought, as my hand almost unwillingly received the sheets of paper, and my eyes looked into his.  He was scared as hell, but of what, I couldn’t tell.  It seemed he was passing more than paper my way; in a strange sort of way I felt as he was handing off something to me that was meant for me in the first place, and he had somehow got caught in the middle.

I’d love to be able to tell you what I was thinking at that moment, but to tell you the truth I was thinking about too much to know for sure exactly what I was thinking about, and if that sounds like doublespeak, I’m sorry.

I was for one thing, out of sorts from my evening being disrupted; I’m a person that demands “normal”, and when I’m thrust into situations that aren’t normal, I begin to approach “meltdown” real quick. 

If only Susan would get here I thought to myself as I unfolded the papers noticing that they were stapled together.  In the right hand corner of the top page was  “pg 1,” in faded handwriting.  The page itself was only about half full of writing. 

Quickly glancing at the second page, I realized that it contained what looked like a recipe; I saw “eggs, milk, and whipped cream,” and some “cooking times,” 30 minutes in a conventional oven, 10-12 in a microwave. 

Flipping back to the first page I started reading.

.

“Dear Jim,” it began, the writing kind of stilted in a odd way…...

I was so glad to get your letter in the mail today, and to hear that you and the kids are doing fine.

We are fine.  Daddy is still simmering from Eisenhower winning the election, but there is nothing he can do but simmer.

“This is crazy, I said, looking up at Andy. Who cares about an old letter"?

  “Yeah I know, I told you it was crazy,” Andy said, as he massaged his head with both hands, but the paper isn’t.  It’s legit - Susan had it examined.  That letter was written in the 1950’s.

I looked back down at page, and re-read the words again…

I was so glad to get your letter in the mail today, and to hear that you and the kids are doing fine.

We are fine.  Daddy is still simmering from Eisenhower winning the election, but there is nothing he can do but simmer.

..and I continued to read

We learned some more today on the blog.  About the demonstrations going on. All about the illegal immigrant problems. It seems high school students are in the streets acting like crazy people….

“Eisenhower? - The Blog?”

“What is this crap”, I asked out loud to myself, holding the creased pages up to the light and examining them, while considering what Andy had said about Susan having them checked out.

That she had the connections to do what he’d said she done was accepted.  I didn’t know who had verified the age of the papers I held, but if Susan said they were real, I knew better than argue.  She didn’t make mistakes like that.

“Where is she”, I said suddenly - to a deflated Andy.

He looked away, and with a slight tremor in his voice, he said, “I don’t know,” we got split up in all the confusion.” “She got away is all I know, although she may be wounded.” 

“Wounded” I said, my voice with a tremor of it’s own. 

“Where is she - you dumb shit,” I yelled, standing up from the desk, tossing the letter on top of it.

And he started crying, big heaves, tears flowing so heavily they looked almost fake, as he kept repeating over and over,

“I don’t know…. I don’t know…

The New residencia

I was wondering….

Have you ever looked at the word “assassination”?  Now, I’m just examining the way the word is spelled, not the definition of it, because the actual word speaks to an extreme horror.  The killing of a political figure, which is not what I’m talking about here. 

I just find it strange that this word is spelled – “ass ass ination”… two asses in a row. Hmm…. Just strange that’s all, and I’ve never noticed it before.

Wondering some more…

The other day PuP was talking about that the person who will live indefinitely has already been born!

I was just wondering, if any of you have come across this individual yet?  I would sure like to interview him/her, to find out the secret!

Oh, btw, I’ve come across a blog on the stream that I think is pretty good.  Its title is “pipedreams” and I really like it. It’s not a new one, since it’s been here since September 14, 2005 which is right about the beginning of the stream and “before” my own blog, but I really like it.

Give it a shot if you can.  The author is “godseeker” and she is a 39-year-old lady with a great attitude.  Admittedly, many of you may have already read her stuff, but if you haven’t then I think you will like it. 

Just wondering some more…

I used a word in my latest blog (which follows all this “off the wall commentary,”) and it appears to “not be a word” according to the ol streams dictionary which is not unusual, but what is unusual is that  even the spellchecker I use online says it is not a word.  The word is “authoritive” and I think it’s a word but I sure can’t prove it with the spellcheckers I’ve been using.

…pondering instead of wondering..

I guess most of you know that PuP and SIX celebrated their birthdays yesterday.  Now we know how old PuP is, since I “id” her before we got married, x’cuse me, just kidding, but the point is, does anyone know how old my Exec VP is?  The reason I’m wanting to know is that if she doesn’t hurry up and retire she is going to break this “rag,” and possibly ruin one of my best employee’s, the honorable Mr. Snerdly who is recovering from his latest run-in with MS Six.  Here is his story.

He told me that she came to him for a “bonus, a new car, and a vacation package,” and when he rightly informed her that those items could not be granted, she… according to Mr. Snerdly, got this odd look in her eyes and asked him to follow her to her personal dressing trailer here on the “rag’s” property, and after 22 minutes in that trailer, and btw, nobody knows exactly what went on in there, … Mr. Snerdly came out on wobbly legs, signed off on all her requests and took 3 days of sick leave.

So, if anyone knows how old she is could you please let me know.

Thanks

i.c. mann

The neighbor

“What’s the problem?”  I’d asked the question after I got him calmed down, and he was sitting in the “high back chair”, my favorite, which was placed on the other side of my desk, primarily for me when I wasn’t in my swivel chair typing on my keyboard. 

The “old chair” had been salvaged by me from the Goodwill people, and was the most comfortable chair in my place; its cushioned seat a perfect fit for my ass, and its “high back” allowing relaxing support for my back, neck and head on those days I just wanted to sit and brood, and of course, sip on my “Scotch and water”.

He was sweating profusely, even though he’d just come in from the cold, and had the look of someone who’d just received bad news. 

“Andy” something or another was his name, and I profess to some sudden “queasiness” that I didn’t even know his last name, though he’d lived next door for almost a year.  I also was feeling a little odd with him in my house, for in the year he’d lived there, he’d never been past my front door, till now. 

We’d first struck up a friendship the morning my car wouldn’t start, which was about a month after he’d moved in. He’d jumped it off with cables hooked to my car and his pickup, and after telling him thanks; I made with the small talk for a few minutes, finding out that he worked for the City Water Department and had been there for about 10 years.

After that, we would wave at each other as we were getting in/out our vehicles, going to or from work usually, and had even spent one evening last summer sitting on my front porch drinking, while we watched the sun fall from the sky.

There was no “budding romance” going on between us; I figured any attention he paid me, was out of respect for my “elderly age” all of 52, and the fact that my best friend, Susan, who he’d met once, was a real “looker” and at 32, was probably about his age.

As I sat behind the big desk looking at my not so well known neighbor, waiting for him to tell me what was going on, I was thinking what a “crazy night this had turned into”.

 A half hour ago I’d been sitting here in my study, writing on my computer, smoking a little reefer and enjoying “Friday night”, when deciding that a drink was in order, I’d gotten up to go get one. 

They had caught me by surprise; the doorbell had jangled its pleasant tune as I was coming back through the living room, and expecting Susan, I’d simply hollered “who’s there”, instead of looking out the security hole, which if I had of, I would of still opened the door, but – “after hiding the reefer, and spraying the house down good”.

But as it was, my “who’s there” was answered back not with Susan’s soft voice, but with an authoritative male voice announcing the presence of the “Police”. 

It caused me to immediately look out the “hole in the door” as I called it sometimes, and also, to wish I’d done that before answering, because “indeed,” there was not one, but two uniformed Policemen standing right outside the door, on “my” front porch.

 The frosty night air was causing their breathing to emit little smoky trails from their mouths, and the one on the left was looking back toward the street; they were attired in nice looking, dark blue uniforms, which were highlighted with all kinds of shiny black metallic looking attachments, like badges, flashlights, and pistol belts, the individual slots of the belts full of brownish looking bullets, all lined up neatly. 

Add to all that, the oversized guns jutting from the holsters, and you had “Officialdom” in all its glory.  I only briefly wondered why they didn’t have jackets of some sort on.

So, what is one to do when the law comes calling, and you’ve already made your presence known to them?  Well it’s kind of like that “elephant joke”, you know… “Where does a elephant sit”?  “Answer” – anywhere he wants to.

I opened the door, instantly noticing the flickering lights coming from the street, obviously from their patrol car, wondering what in the hell was going on in my nice calm neighborhood this cold ass night, which is exactly what I wanted to ask them, but like any true blue American I didn’t, because of course I didn’t trust them, especially these days, and I wondered irrationally if they had been monitoring my email, and was here because I was always posting “Get Out Of Iraq” on my blog.

The one on the left, “damn, he looked like a tall version of Tom Cruise”, spoke first, although not to me, nor his partner; but into the little radio transmitter clipped on his shoulder, saying, “occupant opening up, we’re down for a minute.”

I expected to hear a “crackling 10-4” response, but all I could make out was a muted “ok”, and then the other cop, who reminded me of that Puerto Rican cop on “Law and Order,” said, “Sorry to bother you ma’am, but there’s been an event down the street, and we’re checking to see if you or anybody else in the house, have heard or seen anything unusual tonight?”

An “event” I thought, “what kind of event”, I said aloud.

“If you don’t mind we’ll ask the questions for now, ma’am”, this from the Tom Cruise look alike, his voice, strong and authoritative, and his comment reminding me of a thousand police shows.

With “all that” hanging in the air, and my reefer smelling living room pushing on my back from behind me, I fell quickly in line, saying, “no, nothing, I’ve been working on the computer listening to some music,” adding a little lamely, “I’m not married”, instantly wondering why I thought that might be important.

“Do you know the people who live at 1144,” this now from the other cop, the Law and Order guy, his voice a little softer, making me wonder if I was getting a version of “good cop/ bad cop”, but if so, I could barely tell the difference, for they both had an aggressive attitude it seemed to me.

Admitting that I didn’t even know where the house they were talking about was, I was rewarded for this with an irritated look from Tom Cruise, whose name according to his nametag was “Allison”, and glancing at the other cop I read “Smith” pinned and penned on his chest.

Ok I thought, I’m getting tired of this bs, so I said, “hey guys I’m trying to answer your questions but if all you’re going to do is get mad at me, maybe you could send me a letter or something?”

Officer Smith smiled a little at my newfound attitude, and reaching in his pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to me, telling me to give him a call if I thought of anything later. 

I took it without looking at it and gave him my “dazzling – gee I’m just a dumb blond smile”, as the door swung shut in their faces, from the not so gentle push I’d given it. Walking back to my desk after retrieving my drink from the in table I’d set it on, I wondered what “event” had happened down the street.

Before I had much time to wonder about this, and before I’d made it back to my desk the “damn doorbell” rang again.  Thinking it was the cops again; I went back and opened it without looking to see who it was, only to find “Andy” standing on my doorstep.

Without an invitation from me, he walked into my living room; he was shaking as if he was freezing, and I imagine that had something to do with, for all he had on was a short-sleeve shirt, sans any kind of undershirt or coat.

It was obvious he was upset about something and when he asked me for a drink I immediately went to the refrigerator and got him a beer, and I admit I was curious as to what had him so upset, especially with the cops already in the neighborhood.

Coming back into the living room I saw the old coat I wore when I worked outside, laying over a chair, and grabbing it, I carried it back to where Andy was, and handed it to him with the beer.

We walked into the study, and I took a seat behind the desk and he took up residency in my old chair, and now, I thought to myself, maybe I would find out what was going on. 

“What’s the problem”, I asked again, and just before he started talking, I wondered where Susan was; she was at least 30 minutes late, which wasn’t like her at all.

…to be continued

ice

That he would return to San Francisco was not surprising to him; that he would return to the very same place they had come to in the middle of their happiness... was.   

A scenic overlook of the city, a secluded place, where at night the lights of the city could be studied, and just like their ruined love, be taken apart, and put back together, over and over, always with the same result.

It was early morning, but the night was still hanging around, and Ray guessed the time to be around 5; the sun would be rising soon. 

“Springtime” in San Francisco! Lord he could smell it in the air!

Was there a better place to be in the spring than San Francisco? He was beginning to realize the real reason he’d came back. 

Sitting on the edge of the mountain, near the top, where huge flat boulders, good for sitting on, were spread around, Ray had always enjoyed the panoramic view, day or night, though he preferred it at night.

He wondered if it was still as secluded as it used to be; or was it now a place for many to come, both day and night; to eat lunch, kiss and hold hands, as they reflected on their relationships, their lives?

Or maybe it was now a place where kids came to get into mischief, raise hell, and drink and smoke.

With this thought in mind he quit chewing to listen.  He listened for the sound of someone walking through the brush, but all he heard was the sound of the wind lightly blowing through the trees, leaves whispering back to him, an unsaid message.

Ray was no romantic, at least that’s what Sally had told him the last time they’d been together, but he was practical; he had rightly figured that by the time he’d reached ”their place”, he’d be hungry.

As it turned out, “ravenous” was a better description, it’d been a long spell since supper, so long in fact, he was having trouble remembering exactly when it was he’d last eaten.

Taking the package out of the leather bag, and unwrapping it, he threw the paper to the ground and practically stuffed the bread and meat into his mouth.  Why he’d not thought about food till now was a mystery to him; maybe he’d just made himself wait because they had usually always brought something to eat, he really didn’t know; just knew he was very hungry. 

As he chewed his food, he thought about the last 10 years.  Town to town, never finding that one place to settle, that one place that would cause him to lose his vagabond ways. 

In 96 after the breakup, he left Frisco for parts unknown, landing in Denver where he stayed the better part of a year, before leaving with Leon, and ending up in Texas, where he lived till that fateful day in September 01 when everything changed.  

Since then he’d lived in and around Abilene, though for the most part he’d stayed away from the city, having mistrust for cities in general.

Now he was back, as he knew he would be, and without a clue as to why; nothing here to bring him back

except memories of her, and a time that he would always remember as painful, rather than special.

He laughed out loud and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat, taking a swig of water from his canteen.  This life just continues to get more and more complicated he thought to himself.  Why it couldn’t remain as it was - had always pissed him off when he thought too much about it.

They called it “progress”, but progress to him meant only loss.  A loss of the way things had once been; now changed because of Leon and his hatred of the “politicians”.

Ray didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to politics before that fateful day in September, figuring the further he could distance himself from it, the better off he would be. 

He’d had an opportunity to see the man himself not two months ago, while in Denver, when all he would of had to do was walk a few blocks to the hotel he was speaking at. He had given it some thought but in the end had decided that he could not afford to take that risk.

He hated “Republicans”…almost as much as Leon.  It was sort of a family thing he figured.

 This one, who had attained office without being elected, and held it by “hook or crook” was simply put – no better or worse than his predecessor; a power grabbing, land thieving, warmonger, that most right thinking folks feared for his saber rattling ways. In fact, his imperialistic foreign policy had become a hallmark of his presidency.

That he was thinking about politics made him laugh once again, and getting up, he fumbled around in his pocket for his tobacco, but it was then that he felt the first tremor underneath his feet.

It was slight, like a thought in the back of your mind that you weren’t quite sure of, although you knew it was real.

It was then he saw a sight he couldn’t believe.  The lights of the city were flickering off, the air became dust, and dawn was mixed with the night.

He could see huge buildings shaking and waving, and sounds like cannons going off all at one time, as flames began to shoot out from the windows in the buildings.

Backing up in fear he staggered and fell backwards, scrambling up on all fours to stare in disbelief at the sight below.

It was the “end of the world”, he thought, as the ground around him  shook him flat on his stomach, as he tried to hold onto the earth itself.

 Then it was over.

 It had lasted no longer than a minute or two, but the chaos it had caused was spread out below for Ray to see.  Buildings and houses in ruins, pockets of fire all over the city, and disaster thick in the air.

And he ran…..

To where he’d left his horse, and amazingly - discovered that it was still there, tied to the tree.  Climbing aboard the steed, he dug his spurs into its side and they were off.

It would be weeks before he read about the Great Earthquake of San Francisco, but it didn’t matter, for Ray Czolgosz had been there and would always remember April 18^th 1906, for as long as he lived.

THE NEW RESIDENCIA

ESTABLISHED – 2327

Editor – Ice

Dep Editor – PuP

Vice Pres – Dazey

Exec VP – Six

Exec VP Circulation- Earl Snerdly

Political Hack – I.C. Mann

History Editor - Wiseman

Ace Reporter – Johnnie

Scoop Reporter – Scratchomo

Janitor – Icky Chain-e

Asst. Janitor – Orge W. Brush Jr.

THE WEEKEND

It took about an hour to straighten everything out; John and Susie were gone, which after I thought about it was kind of mysterious to me.  I would of thought she would of wanted to press charges against her husband.

Buck, trying hard to stay out of the slammer, accused me of having an affair with his wife, and kept making the comment that “he just lost it when he seen us together in my trailer”.

I pointed out that he never saw us together until after he beat the trailer door down with his hammer, and then he had drawn a gun on us, and without the intervention of Cat, it was likely that someone would of gotten hurt or maybe killed.  I suggested locking his ass up and throwing away the key.

When I finally got it established that I didn’t own the trailer in question, and had just met his wife less than an hour ago, I could sense the deputies leaning in my direction. 

Shortly after that, they told Cat and me that we were free to go, which, by then, was good enough for me.  Let Buck fight it out with Susie and John if he wanted to, I was over it.

After the Deputies left, I introduced Cat to Diane, who was now fully dressed, having retrieved her clothes from the clubhouse while the Deputies were interviewing us.  And he in turn, introduced us both to LeAnn, the attractive black lady, who I had quite easily deduced to be his wife, since she and Cat were the only black people around.

Diane had brought my clothes from the clubhouse and after excusing myself, I borrowed Cat’s trailer to dress in. 

Diane followed me into the trailer and as I dressed, she got to hear my story, and surprising me somewhat, she didn’t give me hell about it, just started laughing when I told her about the little naked man, who incidentally had been revived, and was going to be ok, not even getting a concussion out of the deal. 

I also filled her in on Cat; repeating what he’d told the Deputies. That he and his wife were on their way to Corpus Christi on the first leg of a long awaited vacation, and having driven for several hours today, they were looking for a place to rest, when some   teenagers down the road had told him that “Sunshine” was a “Free” hookup for trailers and motor homes. 

As Cat told it, he was backing his trailer into what he thought was an empty slot next to Susie’s trailer, when in his mirror, he saw two naked people (me and Susie, although he had not recognized me yet) jumping in the back door of his trailer.

Although it had seemed strange to him, he had not stopped to investigate, figuring he would find out what was going on when he got the trailer backed in. 

When questioned about being in a “nudist camp”, he just laughed and said that “yes that was obvious but it didn’t bother them, for they were just going to eat supper in the trailer, and go to bed. 

It was when he saw Buck with the sledge hammer walking toward the door we’d went into that he took everything a lot more seriously. 

Stopping the truck, he’d told his wife to stay in the truck, and grabbing his shotgun, he’d run back to where we were, and immediately realized that the guy standing in the trailer was about to shoot someone, or so it looked to him.

It was also at that point that he’d recognized me, telling the Deputies that he recognized me instantly, adding that we’d been in Vietnam together in 1969.

“Kim” the female deputy had drawn chuckles from the rest of us, when she’d asked Cat if he’d seen me naked a lot, since he’d recognized me “instantly” after a span of 27 years.

Cat had took the comment the way it was meant - tongue in cheek – and with a slow smile had said, “As a matter of fact, when we were in Nam, we was always laying around naked”, which was only partially true; some of the guys, me included, had indeed laid on top of the bunkers working on our tans, but never Cat, his was already in good shape. 

But the comment had been a good comeback for Kim’s, and she’d smiled back at him with a look in her eyes that was hard for me to determine.

An older man whose name I never caught, and who was fully clothed, was representing Sunshine Park.

It seemed that Leroy “had been chasing Cat down”; Cat had merely breezed past the office without stopping, which had prompted Leroy to give chase. 

So, in actuality, Leroy had been in “hot pursuit” of Cat when he had come roaring in, siren at full tilt. The fact that he had “knocked himself out” caused everyone to laugh, which sorta eased the tension a little. 

Since Susie and John were not there, I wond