THE NEW

RESIDENCIA

***

EST 2233

EDITOR – ICE

ASST. EDITOR – PUP

VICE PRES = DAZE

EXEC VP – SIX

SCOOP REP – SCRATCH

ACE REP – JOHNNIE

Missing….

My brother went missing a year ago today.  His neighbor, old Amos Ott, was the last to see him. Amos told me that he’d seen him that Saturday morning; Jay had told him that he was headed for Dallas to shop for a motorcycle, and see a Cowboy game, a “getaway”, he’d added.

I jumped on it. Are you sure he said getaway? Amos had been positive that he had used the word, and he also admitted, that Jay had no reason to walk over from next door to tell him anything, for he had not asked Amos to get his mail or watch the house, or any of the usual stuff that he did when leaving town.

“Getaway” was Jay’s dream.  He’d never really enjoyed life, and I guess I always knew, that sooner or later he would take that “getaway” he was always talking about.  His dream, pipematic as it was, was to live on the beach, and do nothing other than drink Corona and write.

Many times I’d argued with him about it, telling him that it would bore him out of his skull, and besides, how would he earn any money.  He’d always laughed and said, “big brother you’re just too busy making a living to enjoy living”.

He’d given me “Power of Attorney” a couple of years before he disappeared, and I had spent the last year tying up the loose strings, what there were of them. 

Jay’s house was a modest 3 bedroom brick with an attached 2-car garage, which on today’s market would bring an easy $150,000, but per his instructions I listed it for $100,000, and as he said it would, it sold within a few days.

The money I put in an account set up by me, and in my name, again per his instructions.  Jay’s ex-wife, Carline, had been killed in a car wreck shortly after their divorce, and there were no children, so I assumed that someday he would contact me, if for no other reason than to get the money.

He’d given me the instructions more than 5 years ago; we were at my house, and celebrating my 44^th birthday.  Leann my wife had invited my office and hers, plus relatives and neighbors; there was a huge crowd at the house and in the midst of all those people, Jay had told me that someday in the near future he might disappear.  The code word was “getaway”. He told me that if he ever just disappeared, for me to look for the word “getaway”.

There were a couple of other clues too. “Shopping for a motorcycle”, was one of them, for Jay would never entertained the thought of getting on a motorcycle, much less buying one; and so was the Cowboy game, for he hated the Cowboys since Landry had been fired, vowing to never attend another game.

Even so, at first I thought he might reappear within a couple of weeks, or maybe months, but it was just wishful thinking on my part. 

Jay was gone.

Rowing the Stream

Seen how Prank wants to go out, and it’s not a bad way to go.  PolarB had an interesting comment, and I’m paraphrasing here; she wants her burial money spent on a party at the beach and for her ashes to be thrown to the ocean.  Hmm.. did you know that Jack Kennedy loved the ocean, and often made the remark that the ocean and our bodies have the exact same percentage of salt in them?  Salt is an interesting thing in and of itself:

 Only in recent years have Biophysicists started again to do scientific research on natural, crystal salt. They discovered something astonishing: natural crystal salt consists of exactly the same 84 elements as in human body.

Stepping into the stream, the water is just right, and as I wade through it I am thinking about Coloconnect’s blog; the one where she is talking about Karma and the like, and I wonder if by chance I’ve lived a life or two besides the one I am presently pursuing? Could it be possible?  Well of course it could, since we don’t really know what is “out and about” other than what we know, which leaves a lot out there that we don’t know, yes?

Well who do we have strolling through the water?  It’s Cher, and she’s “not” in her new, red pickup?  Surprise! Surprise!

Cher: hey ice what’s going on in the stream?

Ice: nothing I can see, it’s about the same as always.  Lucy is back and so is Motel 6, but I’ve not had a chance to catch up on either yet, how bout you?

Cher: was out partying with Abe Lincoln and his butler all night; man I didn’t know how much Abe got into Santana.

Icy: Did he have any proclamations to make?

Cher: yeah, he was asking for some rain for the plain states.

Icy: shit, hope that comes true, lol. Hey! Who’s that coming up the stream?

Cher: z That be Pop. Hiya Pop, how’s it going?

Pop: Everything is right on. How’s it with you?

Icy: Hey Pop, I didn’t know you were back after the “move”.

Pop: Well I don’t know for sure either, but here I am in the stream.

Cher: Well it doesn’t matter if you’re back or not; you’re here now, so you might as well enjoy the water, right?

Pop: I guess so. What about you Ice, are you back from your trip yet?

Ice: You know… I’m not sure.  I think I am, but then again you aren’t exactly what you think you are, are you?

Pop: I know what you mean Ice, I’ve been wondering every since we met whether or not I was back from the move or not.  Hmm.. somebody ought to go over to my blog and see if I’m back or not, don’t you think?

Ice: Nah, it doesn’t matter whether or not you’re back or not, cause you’re here now.

Cher: Damn! You guys sound like you were out with Abe and his butler last night.  Were you there?

Pop:  Now Cher do you really want to start that conversation?

Cher: you’re right Pop, forget I said anything.

Icy: Hey guys! Look who’s laying on the beach sun tanning?  It’s Six, Pup, Lucy, Pie, Daze, Belle, and Carrot.  SHIT! It’s the Purse Posse! 

Cher: Hey girls! Over here! Look who I have with me!

Pop: Come on Ice, we better head for a different part of the stream; if these girls get riled up we’ll be easy targets.

Icy: Not to worry Pop, one of the leaders of the gang is my wife, come on, we’ll be fine.

Pop: I don’t know Icy; I’d feel better if Diesel or Scratch were here with us. 

Icy: Don’t worry man, Prank is around here somewhere, we’ll be ok.  Anyway, I need to talk to my Exec VP, and my new VP who just got hired while I was on my getaway.

Pop: Hey Ice did you see that white shadowy thing over there? Wait a minute, that’s PolarB!

Icy: So it is, and that’s Mary with her, wonder what they’re doing out here?

Pop: I tell you it’s a damn trap, we’d better get the hell out of ---oh shit, there’s Topaz and Moonsilver, and, and, Gerzunda!  Crapolo man, let’s get - while the getting is good.

Icy: Look at that! Cher swam “under water” all the way to the beach and she’s up with the other girls…. Wonder what she’s saying to them?

Pop: you can wonder if you want, I’m leaving!

Icy: Hell Pop, we never even knew for sure if you were back or not?

Pop: --as he swims off--

He’s saying; well just count me as not here now, seeya later Ice.

Icy: Hmm.. all by myself with the Purse Posse, so what, big deal. Hey! Who’s that over there?  Scratch! ! Come here a minute, you’ve got to see this.

Scratch: What’s up Icy dude?

Icy: Bunch of women over there on the beach; well.. they were.  Where did they go?

Pop: Man, I just came back to tell you guys something.  Those women what were on the beach.

Icy: yeah?

Pop: they’re swimming underwater straight at us!

Scratch: oops!  Damn! Every time I get around you Icy! Later man, I need to go, I’ll see you around.

–scratchomo dives into the water. And Pop dives in behind him, with Icy right behind both of them.

--coming up for air-

Scratch: man, are we safe? Wait a minute.  Look a boat! 

Icy: yeah, and it’s full of people.  I can see Prank, Wayf, and Stuart!

Scratch: Stuart? Is he back?

Pop: Nah man, I checked his blog earlier, he’s still out for the holidays.

Icy: don’t worry about it Pop, just roll with the flow, after all we’re not sure you’re back from your move yet?

Pop: you know Icy I kinda think I am back.  I feel like I’m back, or I’m here anyway?  What about it Scratch? Do you think I’m back from my move yet?

Scratch: Hell I don’t know Pop, but we’d better start worrying about who’s here right now.  Look over there, ----and he points to the west-- where there seems to be a bunch of heads a bobbing to the surface all at once. YIKES! It’s the Purse Posse and they are on the warpath, and look over there --- and Scratch points to the East where a bunch of more heads are a popping to the surface.

Icy: uh,oh, that’s the rest of the gang! Hell they’re trying to get us in a “vise”!  Look, there’s Johnnie, Colo, SarahW and Dariana, shit, men, it’s time to get out of here!

Scratch: hey they have Nikki Rae with them.

Ice: hmm. I didn’t know she was even in the posse? I’m getting on the boat – men - you can do what you want, but I want on that boat!

Scratch: Hey, there’s another boat, and Whit is on it, and Dieselman, graffiti, and puzzled, and man is puzzled, puzzled.  He doesn’t know what he’s in the middle of. Hey! Who’s that squirrley looking guy standing next to Dieselman?

Icy: Oh, that’s Vern, don’t pay him any mind, he was in one of my other stories.  Remember the one about us all being on a boat—

Scratch: forget that shit man, if we don’t get into a boat, the posse will get us!

Icy: yeah I guess we’d better do something, we’re at the bottom of the column already.

Scratch: now I remember – “Vern” was the guy waiting in the barbershop. Right?

Icy: yeah I just threw him in there, I doubt if anybody remembers him.

Pop: hey Icy, we’re way past the bottom of the column, and the posse is almost on top of us, what do we do now?

Icy: here, let me take care of the posse and everything else.. Watch this --- to be continued -

Pop: I thought we were at the bottom of the column, Icy?

Icy?

Scratch?

Hmm.. maybe I'm not really here? 

THE NEW RESIDENCIA

Est. 1855

*

EDITOR – ICE

DEP EDITOR – PUP

VICE PRES - VACANT

EXEC VP – SIX

SCOOP REPORTER – SCRATCH

ACE REPORTER – JOHNNIE

The Fulooting Eye

Dateline: Today, with IceyMann reporting from – downtown at Blog City, standing beside the old stream, watching everyone on the beach sun bathing, and a few folks swimming in the stream, enjoying the unseasonable temperatures.

Just standing around the old stream waiting to see who comes by? Tap, Tap, Tap, foot a tap tap tapping. Ah yes, here comes someone right now, and it looks like…. Yes, I do believe this to be Davy Crockett.  He’s got his coonskin cap on, and has a bear in the back of his pickup. Uh, Mr. Crocket, Sir! Over here, yes, could you give me a few minutes with you; I have a couple of questions?

Davy: what is it Ice: I only have a minute? Note: Davy says this as he dismounts the pickup and ties the straps that are on his front bumper to a tree.

Ice:  Mr. Crockett, we were wondering what you were doing with MsPolarB in the back of your pickup?

Davy: caught her last night downstream a little bit; she was attempting to get a drink of water, when I snuck up on her and captured her.

PolarB: the hell you did!  I just needed a ride into town.  Note: this is said as PolarB climbs out of the truck and walks off toward the General Store.

Davy: hmm… that capture did seem somewhat tame come to think of it.

Ice: so now what Davy?

Davy: well I have a date at the AlamoBlog, so I guess I’ll be moseying on.

Ice: thanks Mr. Crocket for your time today. Uh, wait a minute, who’s this walking my way; yes, it’s Earl McGraw Dieselman in the flesh.

Ice: uh Mr. Diesel what are you up to on this beautiful day on the stream?

Diesel: going wrabbit-hunting Ice, can I borrow a couple of carrots from you?

Ice: uh, well Diesel, I seem to be out of carrots at the moment, but I do have some chewing tobacco.  Will that work?

Diesel: yeah, hand it over, I don’t think it matters to the wrabbits I’m a hunting. Note: Diesel accepts the chewing tobacco from Ice and walks toward the local Newspaper office, The New Residencia, telling Ice, by, over his shoulder.

Ice: truly a great man on the blog, has many followers and truly a giant among all that know him.  Looks like he is going into the Newspaper office, probably to put in an ad or something. Oh, there is Colo coming out of the beauty shop.  Oh, oh, MsColo=Connect, can I get a minute with you, please?

Colo=Connect; Hiya Ice, what can I do for you?

Ice: Colo, thanks for stopping.  My readers were wanting to know something about you, could you perhaps tell me something I could pass on to them?              Colo=Connect: Well let’s see, I have dark black hair and I love to lay out on the beach when I have time and get a good tan.

Ice: there you have it folks! Colo has dark black hair and loves the lay out on the beach and get a good tan! 

Let’s see now, who is this I see, could it be, yes it is, it’s Humphrey Bogart, and he’s with Prank.

Ice: Hey Hump.and Prank, what are you two up to this morning?

Prank: nothing much, we’ve been out on the stream in Humphrey’s boat.

Ice: what about that Mr. Bogart?

Bogart: that’s correct, Ice, we’ve been up and down the old stream checking it out, and talking to all the natives most of the morning.  We even saw Abe Lincoln and his butler earlier; they were sitting by a campfire about 3 miles downstream, discussing modern women.

Prank; yeah, and we hung around for a few minutes, but the smoke from the fire was killing my eyes, so we had to leave. Might say, however, it was a nice, lazy, relaxed trip, down here from there, wasn’t it Bogey?

Bogart: yeah, but it seemed to take a long time to get here; I can’t remember feeling like that since that night I was out on the town with Mitchum.

Ice: would that be Robert Mitchum that you’re talking about?

Bogart: yeah, the one and same. Have you seen him around this morning?

Ice: yeah, he and George Bush Jr. came in for a few minutes from fly-fishing in the old stream.

Prank: really? Mitchum and Georgie Porgie, together.  What an odd couple?

Ice: not really, Georgie’s learning how to fly-fish, and act like a real man from Mitch.

Bogart: what’s Mitch charging him?

Ice: $20,000 a day plus Georgie buys all the bait.

Juju

Prank: that’s a good deal man; Mitch charged Georgie’s Daddy more than that for his voice lessons back in 92, when the old man was running against Wild Bill in the Prez election.

Ice: yeah and after the old man lost the election to Wild Bill, he wanted a refund.

Prank: which ha-ha - he never got from Mitch,, but I did hear that Wild Bill offered enough money to cover the refund the other day, if he would get Georgie to appoint him Sect. Of Defense.

Ice: be a cold day in hell before that happens. Right?

Prank: you’re probably right about that Ice, but I heard that Georgie went to Cheney on bended knee, with the request.

Bogart: got to go Ice, see you later, come on Prank; did I ever tell you about the time I was making this movie in Africa…..

Ice: who do we have now, yeah; it looks like Ms Daze and Ms Pie.  Wonder what they are up to?

Ms Daze; what’s up icey man?

Ice: just out on the old stream looking for juicy gossip, either of you two have anything this morning? Btw, Pie, I liked your last blog a lot, the one about “the things you know”, and I love your new Icon, it really fits you.

Pie: thanks Icey Mann, I noticed it took you long enough to leave a comment on my blog about it.

Ice: Hey Pie, I’ve been really busy lately, what with this rag, and my job, and the pups, and wanting to “getaway” with Pup, and not getting to because “Nerotic Sally” refused to have her pups yesterday, which ruined our “getaway”.

Pie: uh,uh, we’ve all got our problems Ice, just look at the crap that Daze had to go through the last few days and all.

Daze: yeah, thank god all that is over.

Ice: well what about it guys, any juicy rumor you might want to share with me?

Pie: the only one I know of is that one about what CarrotTop said about Daze and her wrabbit hole.

Ice: nope! I ain’t going there at all.

Pie: well we’re out of here Ice, if you see Six, or Johnnie, tell them we’re looking for them.

Ice: ok, you girls take it easy now. Hmm.. who do we have coming this way now?  Could it be, yes, it is, it’s Scratchomo.  Hey Scratch the man, How’s it going today?

Scratch: just out stretching the ol legs a little.  Have you seen Sebastin anywhere, or Snerdly?

Ice: No, I’ve not, but if I do, I’ll tell them you’re looking for them. Btw, that was an excellent poem you posted on your blog.

Scratch: oh yeah, then how come nobody’s put a comment on my blog about it, not even you Icey Mann?

Ice: hey man, I just read it a minute ago, give me a little time to compose my thoughts, and as to the others, I think they read your disclaimer about the 20 year thing, and might be afraid to comment on something so old.

Scratch: yeah, you might be right Ice; I guess I should go back and take that off my post, uh?

Ice: well that’s up to you, I personally didn’t see anything wrong with it. I thought it was kind of a nice touch.

Scratch: well I think I’ll leave it on the post.  Gotta run man, let’s do lunch sometime, eh?

Ice: sure Scratchomo, see you later. Note: As Ice watches Scratch walk away he thinks to himself; there goes a giant of a Man. Poet, Author, man for all seasons. Damn! I better run over to his blog and put a comment on it.  Wait a minute! Who’s this getting out of the stream? Why it’s Debunkem!

Ice: How’s it going man? How’s the water?  Debunkem: yeah it’s nice. Hand me my towel would you, laddie?

Ice: sure, here.

Debunkem: thanks laddie, I guess you want to interview me about me changing the name of my blog?  Well, let me say this about that; There comes a time when all blogs have to be sort of spruced up, know what I mean?

Ice: nah, I didn’t want to talk about that, I just wanted to know if you knew any juicy rumors?

Debunkem: the only one I know is about Daze and the wrabb-

Ice: no, no, we ain’t going there, thanks anyway man. I’ve got to run, good luck on your new name. Now, who do I see over there by the tree?  Could it be? Yes, it’s Pup. What’s up Pup? She did?  Great! Sally had her pups last night, and we didn’t even know it, now we can do the “getaway” – see you all later.  Ice and Pup off on a “getaway” – see everybody on Tuesday or Wednesday!

THE NEW RESIDENCIA

Est. 1855

***

EDITOR – ICE

DEP EDITOR – PUP

VICE PRES - VACANT

EXEC VP – SIX

SCOOP REPORTER – SCRATCH

ACE REPORTER – JOHNNIE

T

  H

     E

         T

         W

           I

           L

           I

         G

        H

     T

ZONE

Edgar walks over to the trashcan, and retrieves the two lottery tickets.  Looking at them carefully, he turns the jackpot ticket in his hand, and raises it to his eyes, staring at the numbers, while letting the other one fall back into the trashcan. 

Walking into the kitchen, he does a little “jig”, hopping first on one foot and then the other; oh what a sight he must be, he thinks, and then laughs out loud.  “So what” he says, and while still laughing, says, “so fucking what”, by now he is almost yelling, as dreams of cars, boats, planes and a beautiful life of luxury flood his brain, until in the background of all his joy, he hears the bells of the front door - jangling.

Sliding the ticket in his pants pocket, he hurries to the front, thinking it must be Kay; but also remembering that she never comes to the store on Saturday.

And it’s not Kay he sees; it’s Jimmy, and he’s standing at the counter, with two lottery tickets in his hand.  Slowly, Edgar walks up to the counter, and stares at the boy.  Finally, the boy speaks, “Good Morning, Mr. Thomas, could you check my tickets”?  Something strange about his voice, not weak and squeaky, but strong, and with a deeper resonance than before. 

Suddenly, Edgar is pulled into a reality where he’s never been, as the walls of the shop seem to close in on him, and a shadow flickers across the wall in front of him, like the weak flame of a candle in a draft.

“What the hell”? He says, his own voice high pitched, and quivering.

“What are you doing here, that door - that door was locked”! “How did you get in here - you little asshole”? Edgar feels a sudden chill as the hair on the back of his neck, begins to prick his skin.

“It’s your second chance Mr. Thomas”: “father says we must give you another chance”, and the boy’s voice is calm, and soothing. 

“Would you check these tickets Mr. Thomas”, he says, holding out the two tickets. Edgar slowly reaches out and takes the tickets, and turning his back to the boy, he holds them up to the light, examining them.

The first one is nothing, but the second one – startles him, and then an unreasonable fear engulfs him, as he stares at the ticket in his hand; the numbers are a match to the jackpot numbers.

Slowly he slides his other hand into his pants pocket, but it’s empty, except for his hand, which is frantically closing and opening inside the pocket, searching in vain for the ticket. And with a deep intake of breath, he realizes that the ticket isn’t there.

“What do you mean, a second chance”?  Edgar says, with his back to the boy.  And the voice that answers him, is even deeper than before, with a husky, raspy sound to it; “My father told me to come down here and give you a second chance, and that’s all it means, pure and simple, just a second chance Mr. Thomas”.

Continuing to stare at the ticket, Edgar can feel the coldness behind him, and he smells a strange, damp odor, like wet clothes, or …something.

Now, he’s feeling sharp teeth tearing at his flesh, and literally watching himself being savagely tore apart; and along with the terror that is in this - his minds eye - he sees his own bloody flesh falling to the floor below, which is covered in blood; his blood.  

Still staring at the ticket in his hand, Edgar slowly focuses on it, and watches as his hand begins to tremble, and with a strength he never knew he possessed, he turns around to face the boy.

Jimmy is standing in the same spot he was, and he’s got a little smile on his face.  Edgar notices the boy’s hands, how grubby looking they are, fingernails chewed to the quick, fingers stained with dirt, and grease of some sort.

He forces a smile to his face, and says, “It’s your lucky day Jimmy, why don’t you go get your father, and come back down here. I will need to talk to both of you about this ticket”.

Jimmy looks at him and then in his twelve year old, squeaky voice say’s, “Sure Mr. Thomas, “I’ll go get him, he’s right outside”, and with that, the boy runs out the door slamming it behind him, the bells clanging loudly.

Edgar leans back against the wall, breathing deeply, as he feels more alive than he can ever remember.  The damp chill that had been in the air now gone; the room felt good again, and Edgar just keeps looking around, breathing deeply, while feeling the comfort of …

his second chance.

In the Beginning ….

We were created. Exactly who created us, we really don’t know.  Some tell us that a god is responsible, others speak of a “big bang”, but as for knowing for sure, we just don’t. We do know from our history, that this world is made up of up of many different types of people. Most of who are searching for something, but many are just in need of company on a dark lonely night.

People come, and people go, not unlike the ebb of an ocean; and like this constantly shifting tide, with it’s never-ending murmuring, our world moves on.  And, so we do too, for we simply must keep moving in the stream; for there is but one other choice, and even as we recognize the consequences of not continuing to move, we also accept the consequences of continuing.

There are many of us, who frequent this world a lot, and hopefully this number will continue to grow, and we can only hope that those who choose to opt out - will remain low. So as surely as we know that some will fall to the wayside, we also know that others will sign on to Blogstream, and it will continue to grow.  So remember ladies and gents, “to keep buying this rag”……

P.s. forgot to mention that some think that a dude by the name of “Pioneer” created this place, but then again how do we know that this “Pioneer” really exists?

 Has anyone ever seen this “Pioneer”?

A good quote

“Being undead isn’t being alive". E.E. Cummings. Posted on Whit Whittling’s Blog.

News and stuff

Check out -- "Rails, Rapids, and Trails," by Griz – the gospel according to Daze.

Debunkem Blog changing.  Yes folks, it’s true. Mr. Abraham Debunkem, esq., has decided to rename his blog.  As of Monday, January the 9^th, it will be known as “QUOTE US INTERRUPT US”.  We here at The New Residencia wonder if popcorn will still be served at the door?

LOST AND FOUND

Lost: A BLACK FERARRI, LICENCE TAG NUMBER “ICE ONE”, AND AN EXEC VP, AND ONE ACE REPORTER.  ANYONE REPORTING WHEREABOUTS OF CAR OR THESE TWO RASCALS WILL BE REWARDED WITH 3 FREE ISSUES OF THE NEW RESIDENCIA.  CALL 555-5555 ASAP.

SUGGESTIONS

God’s wife suggested, “color photos” for this old rag, but since we consider it a frigging miracle to publish at all, we can only take her suggestion with a grain of salt.  P.s. we do appreciate any suggestions yall might have.  Thanks to Mrs. God for her recent contribution.

SPECIAL NOTE

“remember to keep buying this rag”

zT

THE NEW RESIDENCIA

 **

ESTABLISHED – 1711

Editor – ice

Editor chief assistant - pup

Dep editor – scratchomo

Exec. Vice pres. – six

Ace reporter - johnnie

Edgar Thomas, bookstore owner, husband and father of two, opens the door to his shop, which jangles the bells hung just above it, steps in, and quickly turns off the security alarm.  Flipping the sign on the door over, he officially proclaims the shop open for business.  

Edgar is two days away from his fortieth birthday; a birthday that he doesn’t want anything to do with.  He’s already told Kay, his wife of 22 years to forego any kind of a party, preferring as he said, “to just have a quiet day”.

His plan for the “quite day” is to spend it trying to figure out a way that he can make the mortgage payment, pay the shop rent, and insurance payment, all without getting into the grocery money.  Which is going to take some serious number crunching.

But today, he has other things on his mind, for it’s Saturday, one of his busiest days in the shop, and he needs to get the coffee going, and rearrange the books in the front window. 

He should have rearranged them last night, but he was too tired to do anything, after the unexpected slow day. Which is when he was usually the most tired; the slow days just killed his attitude.

Making coffee in the little kitchen at the back of the shop, Edgar hears the bells; someone was already visiting the store.  “Crap”, he mutters under his breath, as he dries his hands, and heads to the front. 

Becoming even more pissed as he saw who it was.  Jimmy Charles, the blind guys son, was at the counter with his grubby little hand around the two lottery tickets he’d purchased the day before. 

Jimmy was only 12 years old, but he managed to go to school and get good grades, take care of his father who was blind and on social security, plus hold down a job next door at “Sal’s Diner after school, and on weekends.

Industrious kid, for sure, but why he wasted his money on the fucking lottery was a mystery to Edgar.  Even though he sold the tickets at his shop, Edgar had never bought one, believing that gambling, any kind of gambling, would eventually get you in more trouble than the trouble you might be trying to get out of. 

The jackpot was up to 67 million this morning; he knew that because one of the first things he did every morning was to cut the days winning numbers out of the paper, and tape them to the front of his cash register.

This, in the faint hope that one day, some idiot would buy the winning ticket at his shop, and thus allow him to win a substantial amount of money himself, for selling it.

Of course Edgar didn’t call this gambling because he wasn’t betting any money himself.

“Hi ya”, Edgar said, with a false enthusiasm that he really didn’t care if the boy noticed or not. 

“Good Morning, Mr. Thomas, could you check my tickets”?  Every Saturday morning it was the same thing.  “Could you check my tickets”?  Why couldn’t the kid check them himself?

Hell, he could go online, or fork out a buck for a newspaper.  Instead, he always brought them in; maybe because it was easy, since he worked next door.

Taking the tickets from the boy without comment, Edgar automatically checked the two tickets, against the numbers taped to his register. 

The first ticket was nothing, but the second one froze him, momentarily.  The numbers matched!  Not just one or two of the numbers, but the whole damn row! Matched!  Every damn number lined up so god damn pretty; the prettiest thing Edgar had ever seen in his life.

In the space of seconds, Edgar thought faster than he’d ever thought in his life.  He went from, “Damn, I’ll probably collect at least $50,000 for this – straight into – why not all of it”?  And moving in his usual, slow casual way, he grunted out loud saying, “nothing here Jimmy”, and turning to the tall trash can next to the register he tossed the tickets in it. 

This was the exact routine every time he checked losing tickets. Edgar never ran tickets through the Lottery machine unless there was at least two matching numbers.

But, Edgar was not in a normal “routine” this morning. For, Edgar Thomas had made a turn into the Twilight Zone.

His heart was pounding so hard, he was afraid he was having a heart attack, and it was his fervent hope, that his high blood pressure medication was working right now, for Edgar was about to come out of his skin, and he desperately wanted Jimmy out of the store.

“Thanks Mr. Thomas”, the boy said as he turned to leave.  Edgar picked up a candy bar from the rack on the counter, and tossed it to the boy. “Here, have a candy bar on me”, and he had no damn clue why he done it for.  He’d never done anything like that in his life; and the surprise on Jimmy’s face told something too. 

Catching the candy in his hand, he didn’t say anything; just nodded at him, and pulled open the door… and left.

Edgar stood there, the clanging of the bells from the door, “banging” through his head, which was suddenly hurting like crazy. 

Pulling up the small stool behind him, he sat down, staring off into space.  Just sitting and staring, till finally he got up, walked over to the door and turned the sign around to closed, pulled the shades, and walked over to the trash can.

Graffiti’s Idea

I read it.  Thought about it for a second, and am still thinking about it.  72 hours of non-stop blogging. What do you all think of this idea?

Where to now?

Time for bed actually, but before I go, I must check out Johnnie’s blog.  I was there for a second just now, and there is a pic there – that is supposed to be the “Kaleidoscope of her mind.  And, man, …well you will just have to go look yourself.  It kinda looks like a.. hmm better not say.  But do tell, folks, please let me know what this pic resembles to you all.  As for the blog, well I don’t know about what she wrote, but since what she writes is always good, then I expect some excellent piece of work will be there, and of course the picture, hmm..

….. Then I’m stepping over to Colo=Connects place; man there’s two or three new ones there.  After Colo=Connect, I think I will skip over to Topaz’s pad and see if she can put a smile on my face before I go to bed.

We interrupt this rag and it’s editor, IcyMan, to bring you this important announcement.  “PoP” is going out of orbit for a few days, as he is trading in his planetary ship for another one, and won’t be back on the blog till next week.   

I’m back and will next be going over to “What is it like being alone?” Ladyjan is the author of this new blog, and this, her first post, was posted at 9:11 p.m. tonight.  I think I will see what she has to say. 

After welcoming Ladyjan to the ol stream, I think I will head for the mattress, but first let me make another round and see where else I might stop.

Hmm.. must be tax time again, Pup is posting some kind of letter to the IRS. Shit! I wish she’d leave them folks alone.  They bother us enough without her stirring them up more.

Hmm…still snowing over at the tombs, need to Scratch my back, oh, that’s much better. And over at RR Street the Diesel is writing some great stuff about the 13 miners.  I am sick about those guys.  God help them.

Remember them in your prayers.