Making Love Work

Why is love so hard
Why does it seem like work
I should not have to change
I should be who I am
Every date that I go on
Every woman that I meet
It is always the same
Lies, cheating, and stealing
Marketing yourself
Trying to get laid
Trying to get loved
It should not be this hard
Love should not be a job

I'll Take You

Jack threw his cell phone against the dash of his car and swore. Why could his car not start? In frustration he grabbed his cell phone again, ready to slam it against the dash again. Out of vain hope he checked it again for a signal. Maybe the impact of the phone on the dash aligned the right wires, or some cosmic force was smiling, because Jack had service on his cell phone.

Quickly Jack grabbed his oil change receipt and called Quick Lube before his lost service again. “Quick Lube, how may I help you?” a voice rang out over the din of the shop.

“I was just in your place a couple…”

“Quick Lube, can I help you?” a second voice came over the phone.

“I was just in your place…” Jack hesitated, the level of shop noise that was coming over the phone was unbearable. “I was just in your place not to long ago for an oil change and now my car wont start.”

“Why don’t I transfer you to the service manager,” the second voice said. After a few seconds a new voice was asking Jack why he called. Jack explained that his car wouldn’t start.

“I don’t see how your car not starting could be due to our oil change.” The voice retorted.

“You guys were the last ones to touch my car. Everything was fine before my oil change.” Jack’s body temperature was rising with his fury.

“I still don’t see how your car not starting could be the fault of our oil change.” The voice reaffirmed its statement.

“You just lost yourself a loyal customer.” Jack said just before hanging up. He did not want to loose his cool in a pointless argument. The service manager wouldn’t take any blame.

Jack read through the receipt once more, picking apart every detail. It was obvious that they did not vacuum the car as the receipt indicated. Then, something caught the corner of his eye. His headlights were turned on. Jack never turned on his headlights because they automatically turned on when it got dark. Jack sighed as he realized that the oil change place must have turned on his headlights for a safety check and forgot to turn them off.

A car pulled up next to him as he looked at his cell phone and saw it didn’t have service once again. A cute young blond was behind the wheel. Jack explained what happened and that he thought he had a dead battery.

“I don’t have any jumper cables with me, but I’ll take you to a store,” she said. Jack nodded in agreement and hopped into her car.

Crossroads

Jack left Quick Lube with a smile on his face. The service at the oil change store was at the superb levels that jack prefers. Everyone was full of smiles when he pulled up. The employees were friendly and gad to see him. Even though they were under staffed for the day, jack’s car hit a short lull in business. A short twenty minutes later and jack was already paying his bill and heading out the door.

After a long day in the city Jack headed for a drive in the country. In a matter of minutes the highways devolved into small county roads. He pulled up to a crossroads; Jack could head back into town or drive deeper into the country. Unable to make up his mind, Jack pulled over to the side of the road. A handful of apple trees flanked a small pong in a picturesque view.

Jack got out of his car, breathed in the country air and strolled down to the pond. His mind was wondering as he picked an apple from a tree. Laying down near the pond Jack’s thoughts were to simpler times. Not wanting to think about his days in the city. His eyes grew heavy after he finished his apple. The peaceful country surroundings lulled him to sleep.

After resting for a spell Jack dragged himself back to his car. He put his keys in the ignition and turned the key. Nothing happened. Jack pulled out his cell phone, to call for help, but could not get a signal.

Someone Else’s Eyes

Who am I
When I look at myself
Am I suave and sophisticated
Like the mirror lies to me
Or
Am I the scared little boy
That I know I am
Who am I
When I am looked at
With someone else’s eyes

All Alone

Wake up alone
Go to bed alone
Spend all day alone
No one knows me
The real me
It is all fake
No one can get close
I am all alone

Everyone’s Waiting

Darkness crept across the sky and the first stars twinkled in the dimming light. Frank looked at his watch again as he sat on the couch. “Honey,” he hollered up the stairs behind him, “It’s getting dark out.”

“I’m just finishing up. I’ll be down in a moment.” She hollered back down to him.

Frank tossed the newspaper that he was reading aside. No matter how many times he read it things wouldn’t change. Box scores never change once you read them. The Yankees are out of the playoffs. Beat four to one by the Red Sox. A three run homer in the 8th sealed the deal. They should have put in the reliever sooner… Frank picked up the TV remote and started flipping channels.

“You better not be watching a game down there.” Frank’s wife hollered down at him. “We have to be there by eight. We don’t have time for you to get caught up in a game.”

“Yes dear,” Frank hollered back as he looked at his watch. As it stands now they will have to make the thirty minute trips in twenty minutes. With a sigh he turned down the volume and flipped to the Braves game. Maybe these guys were having a better night.

Terror Starts At Home

Eyes open wide
Can’t move a muscle
Alarm clock blaring in my ear
I do not want to start my day
I can not start my day
Traffic will be tight
Boss will be angry
Work will pile up on my desk
Over worked
Under paid
Over stressed
Under appreciated
The day ahead frightens me
It is full of the crap that I can’t put up with
That I won’t put up with
That I wouldn’t put up with
In a perfect world
Where I didn’t have to go to work
And take care of my responsibilities

Jack Chance Case Files - Part 5: H.F.F.

I had woken up to blinding light pouring in through the blinds. It was still early, too early, but work had to be done. Somewhere between a hot shower and an even hotter cup of coffee I grabbed the phonebook and started paging through it. Between the Humane Hunters Association and the Hummel Hut was Humboldt’s Freight Forwarding. I copied down the address and went to pay them a visit.

Humboldt’s Freight Forwarding was located in a nondescript warehouse down in what I refer to as the auto-mechanic district. Up and down the street were one man grease monkey shops. A domestic shop with a classic Chevy proudly displayed flanked the warehouse on the left and a foreign shop decorated with Volkswagen and BMW logos was on the right. Once inside I followed the signs and found the Humboldt’s warehouse space. A padlock was on the doors and no one was around.

I stuck my head in an open door that was down the hall and said, “I’m sorry, I’m lost, is there a restroom around here?” The blond behind the desk looked up from her paperwork, smiled, and said that there wasn’t a public restroom in the building. I mentioned that I had an appointment at Humboldt’s but no one had shown up yet. She told me that she almost never see’s anyone over there. That it was kind of spooky that a section of the warehouse was owned by a company but seemed to be never used.

It was very interesting that Robert went to work for a company that doesn’t seem to exist just before he ceased to exist. Very interesting indeed. This building is in a dire need of a stakeout. If anyone does work at Humboldt’s, it must be at night.

Everyone Leaves

A clap of thunder exploded across the bank and a patch of ceiling fell to the tiled floor below. “This is a holdup,” the bandit yelled from behind a bandana wrapped around his face. “Get on the floor.” The guard at the door hesitated. A second bandit bashed him in the face with the butt of his shotgun and the guard fell to the floor in a bloody mess. A third bandit was rushing to the registers and dumped the drawers into his sacks.

“Where’s the manager?” the first bandit demanded. Only whimpering answered his question. The bandit unloaded another slug into the ceiling and demanded again, this time adding that he would start shooting people if the manager didn’t appear. After a few more seconds a waif of a man with thinning hair and an even thinner mustache rose his hand and stammered that he was the manager.

The lead bandit grabbed the manager by his collar and dragged him to the bank vault. “Open it,” the bandit demanded.

“I… I can’t…” the manager said and quickly added, “the daily deposits are still at my desk—“ A gunshot exploded over his shoulder. The bandit cocked his gun and adjusted his aim. The manager set to work on the lock, with a click the door swung open.

“We’re in boys!” the bandit yelled. The third bandit abandoned the registers and dashed for the vault. Once there he filled his bags with railroad payroll money. After a few more seconds the second bandit hollered that it was time to go. The first bandit nodded and the three exited the bank.

Rain on the Bus Window

Rain on the bus window
Streaks across as the bus rolls down the highway
The flowing water reminds me of the ocean
Reminds me of home
Ripples from the waves created ridges and valleys in the sand
Hard compacted sand that feels good when walked upon
Like a masseuse rubbing my soles
I am reminded of happier times
Sunshine warming my body as I wade into the ocean
Looking back to shore, I see her laying there
Her body soaking in the rays
She catches my eye and waves
I smile and dive under the waves
The water cooling my sun warmed skin
A crack of thunder followed the jagged edge of lightning across the sky
My sleep heavy eyes slowly opened
Waves of water still ran across the bus window
But my smile did not wash away
I am going home again
Returning to her

Penumbral Gambit - Episode 7: Unexpected Guest

Disclaimer: Penumbral Gambit is a work of fan fiction set in the Star Wars universe. Several locations, items, and concepts belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd. The picture is a combination of an image from Sergio Leone’s “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” and an image from Wizards of the Coast’s “Star Wars Saga Edition” role playing game book. This story and image is purely meant for entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.

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“I feel coldness,” Re’ahn said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “There is an evil force user near here. What is in that direction?” She pointed towards the rear of the throne room.

“Um, just the hanger for our personal speeders. Why?” Princess Shaela said as she regained her composure. She was glad that her brother, her captor, was not killed. “Are you going to take us to our father now?”

“We will as soon as we check this out.” Tahnel replied. “It can not be a mere coincidence that an evil force user is near by. We must investigate before it is too late. Are you good to travel? We will protect you.”

A smirk ran across Jett’s face as his interpretation of protecting the beautiful princess flashed across his mind. “We got our bounty, why don’t we just get out of here,” he said.

“ Mesa don’t understand Jedi,” Dubja said to Jett while he finished securing the binder cuffs on the unconscious prince. “Itsa usually better to indulge them and just follow along.”

Tahnel sighed heavily as he picked up the prince and slung the limp body over his shoulder. Being the strongest meant that the tall green alien was the lucky one and got to carry the cargo. It was obvious that he did not agree with what Dubja had just said.

Re’ahn led the group through the halls following her senses on the location of the evil force user. Occasionally Shaela would say directions that would lead them to the hanger when dead ends blocked the direct rout. The young Jedi easily felt the dark force and let it lead her.

Once the group exited the palace they spread out in a defensive formation. The early dawn light crept across the palace grounds. As they approached the hanger Dubja’s large ears picked up, there was a shuffling behind the bushes on either side of them. There were rebels on either side of them ready to spring an ambush. “It’s a trap!” The Gungan yelled as he threw a grenade at the rebels on the left and drew his pistol.

Re’ahn dashed into the open hanger while the rest of the group fought off the ambushers. The large hanger door slammed down behind the girl, draping her in darkness. Her eyeless sight saw into the dark confines of the hanger, the dark force energy was present in the hanger.

“I’m glad you were able to find your way to me,” said a female form as she moved from behind a starship. Her lightsaber dimly illuminated her sickly purple skin and dark robes in a dull red light. Her Twi’lek head tails were wrapped around her neck. “Hunting you down on this backwards planet was not top on my list of things I’m looking forward to.”

“What are you doing here?” Re’ahn demanded as she lit her own lightsaber. The clash outside echoed inside the hanger. She knew that her friends were good, but she thought that they may need her help. “Your presence here must not be a coincidence, are you pulling the puppet strings on this planet?”

“We are behind so much more than you will ever be able to comprehend,” the Twi’lek said with a laugh. “Now I must finish my master’s bidding and rid this planet of your presence.”

As the Twi’lek leapt forward to attack the hanger was rocked with large explosion after large explosion. Both of the women were knocked to the ground as sections of the roof fell around and on them. Outside of the hanger, the combatants could see flashes of light fall from the heavens, destroying the hanger. The mercenary starships in orbit must have opened fire on the hanger.

Perfect Circles

“Have you ever met someone that can draw a perfect circle? It’s amazing really. A thing of beauty. I hate those people.” Mike said to his therapist as he slumped back into his chair.

“Why is that?’ Laura asked as she jotted down notes.

“Something that difficult shouldn’t come easy to anyone. You shouldn’t be able to just whip out a pencil and draw out a perfect circle. There is no such thing as a perfect circle. It just doesn’t happen. People should not be able to draw one by freehand.”

“What about Coke bottles? Or bubbles that children blow? Those look like circles to me,” she retorted.

“They are circles, but not perfect circles. The Coke bottle has some flashing sticking out of it. There are weak spots in bubbles that lead to deformities resulting in a circle that is most defiantly not a circle. There is no such thing as a perfect circle in nature. They just don’t exist. People should not be able to draw one. Nothing is perfect.”

“Is that what this is about? Perfection?” Mike hung his head and nodded. “You have to let her go Mike.”

“I can’t,” Mike sobbed. “I’m not good enough. I’m not perfect. She will never love me again.”

“You have to be strong Mike. It’s time to move on. There is no such thing as a perfect circle, you said so yourself. Free yourself from her. Be a deformed circle.”