Rain Falls on the TV Box

Rain Falls on the TV Box

Before the summer of 2010 I can’t remember a single important thing happening in my life. I guess that’s how it is in your early teens. As far as moments in my life that really shaped me before that summer where everything deconstructed and Max had to be sent away, I can remember just one significant day and that was when Reggie died.

Now Reggie was my dog. He was old for his breed so it didn’t hit me too hard to see him go, though in his last few months it was kinda hard to watch. A dying dog is just the worst thing to watch. He was always very delicate because he was the runt of the litter, but he was going on thirteen now so we figured he didn’t have very much time left.* My dad found Reggie in the bath tub, the one on the second floor. When my dad found him, he got one of our tent-tarps from out of the garage and bundled him up in it, He was not a huge dog so my dad didn’t have any trouble carrying him, even though my dad is about as old as they come. Funny thing though: (not that Reg dying is funny) My dad put Reggie’s body in a box we had laying around since we bought this huge TV that is in our Living room still, to this day, anyway after that every time I sit down and watch that TV, I think of how my Dad carried my dog out to the back yard in this big TV box, I just think things like that are kinda funny. Anyway after He took Reggie to the back yard he spent the rest of the day trying to figure out a way to tell us without a huge shock. I was probably the least shocked, my sister though, she was crying all day. A little girl crying is probably the worst thing in the whole world, and I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just mean it’s hard to watch. My dad was going on 59 at the time so he had seen a lot of death in his life, this didn’t really faze him. He was sad and everything, I don’t mean to say he wasn’t sad, but he didn’t show it. I think this was before my birthday so that means I was fourteen when this happened. Fourteen’s a tricky age because you are nobody.  When you are thirteen you are really somebody, not fourteen though. Anyway it must have been right before my fifteenth birthday ‘cause I remember this really long rainstorm the week of my birthday, real biblical stuff, but I think it was one of the first days of rain when Reggie died. My sister said God was crying. I kinda hope she was right.

So we all got together, the three of us that is, and I called my girlfriend Trista over as well as my best friend Max. Trista really connected with Reggie which was nice. It’s strange, because looking back on it Reggie wasn’t really nice to many people. He liked me and my dad fine, but he loved my sister. I don’t think he really liked my mom very much. The cat always liked Mom most, though. He was a big fan of Trista though, maybe even as much as Beth. Beth is my sister. Max always loved Reggie though, I always thought if I didn’t watch close enough He would steal my dog right out from under me. Max could be a real bastard if you weren’t looking.

So my dad called my mom to tell her and then she called me. She thought I needed to be consoled and all of that mother nonsense, but the truth is, it was nice to hear her talk. She kept going on about how He was a great dog and it was sad to see him go, I think she kinda expected me to be more beat up about it, I mean you are supposed to be real beat up about it when your dog dies. I guess either it hadn’t hit me yet or I really just didn’t feel it the way I was supposed to, either way she was sounding like she thought I was acting strange. Honestly I was acting strange, I couldn’t explain why but I just wasn’t feeling all that bad about it, I mean he was really old, is all.

Before Max and Trista showed up I helped my dad dig a hole in the back yard. In truth I could have done it all by myself but I felt like my dad legitimately wanted to help. And it felt good to have someone to talk to. I remember my dad telling me that we were technically breaking the law because we lived in an old part of town and the gas company didn’t used to bury their lines as deep, in the old days, anyway. When he told me that I said if they were going to arrest us, they’d have to bury the dog for us so it wasn’t in their best interest. That really got him laughing.

It started to rain about halfway through the digging which made us realize the hole was twice as big as we needed it to be for our deceased chocolate lab. We figured now it was deep enough to just bury the box with it, sort of like a casket.

Max and Trista showed up around 3:45 and we all gathered around the hole in the ground where we had already set the box in. Trista was tearing up, I swear. I said a few words about how Reggie was the best dog anyone could ask for, which I’m only half-sure of. Then Beth said a few words, she went on and on but not in a boring sense, I remember a lot of what she said.

“Reggie was more than a dog, sometimes he would give you this look and it was like he was right there, like a human. Reg always made me feel happy when I was sad, He was really smart and caring and full of love. My teacher said dogs don’t have souls but I know they do, just by looking at his eyes I know” Beth really had a way with words; She must have been in 7^th grade when this happened. She’s really good at English and stuff like that. She writes poems all the time and she pretends to hide them even though she wants everyone to read them.

My dad didn’t say anything about Reggie, which I understood, but it’s like, He and Reggie spent the most amount of time together, since when my family got him I was one year old and Beth wasn’t born. My mom travels for work a lot, but my dad is home most days. So he really taught Reggie most of his tricks and He house trained him and everything. He even named him after Reggie Miller, my dad’s favorite Pacers player.

During the service Trista held my hand, which I wasn’t too fond of. You must understand that I was in the presence of my family there would be no end to the mockery. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t like it, I did, so I just let her do it. Max stood at my left. I noticed his jeans were absolutely filthy. Mine were dirty from digging the hole but it looked like Max had just been rolling in dirt. I didn’t bring it up because my sister was talking though. After the service my dad and sister volunteered to bury Reggie and I was told to go get my friends some food.

We walked into my back door, which leads right into my kitchen. I always thought my kitchen had a strange smell, it kinda smelled like old carpet and food. It wasn’t a bad smell or anything I always just thought it was strange. My dad had bought some hot dogs from the store that he said we could have so we all had one, with some chips and some Coke that was in a two-liter that sat by the fridge. We all walked out on to my front porch which was a screened-in porch, still is today. I love the screened-in porch because it’s not inside or outside, it just seems to be the best of both worlds.

So it was pouring down rain by this time and we were all kinda tired, rain always makes me tired. The rain was making this beautiful smell inside the porch, the kind of smell that only comes around during a rain storm that is really giving you the business. Trista and I were on the couch out there that faces the window, Max was on the swing. Trista leaned on me, sort of laying down with her head on my thigh and her knees bent with her legs sortof tucked in between the cushion and the arm of the couch. It must have been really uncomfortable for her, but I think she knew I liked it. That’s the best, when a girl just knows what you like. The whole situation reminded me of a John Hughes movie. You see I’m quite a big fan of movies, John Hughes being my favorite director. The whole thing on the porch though just reminded me of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off The way Ferris and Sloane just connect. The movie never addresses a moment where Ferris and Sloane aren’t completely in love. That’s how I felt at this very moment; I was on top of the world. I was Ferris, and she was my Sloane.

We talked for a bit, I said a few things about how I never really remembered Reggie as a puppy then Max interjected: “Neil, do you think you and me will get a dog when we live together in college?” He paused “well if anyway”

I told him that would be fantastic but only if we could call him Victor Conners, who is a character in a series of books me and Max have read since we were little. Max and I were always talking about rooming together in college, which we realized was far too far away to give any serious concentration, not that I wasn’t considering it, I was. Trista laughed at us, she read one of my Space Proximitas books last November, at first she lied and said she really liked it. Later she told me she was more or less into self-reflections and humorous essays and the like. You see I’m not really a reader, the only books I have ever finished are the Space Proximitas books and they are printed at like a 7^th grade reading level. My sister read one of them when she was 10. It’s not that I’m against books it just seems like they take a very roundabout way of getting to the point.

The rain was really coming down hard when I saw the cat on the porch. She must have slipped out when I opened the door and now she was losing her mind with the thunder and lightning. Luckily for us we all loved the sights and sounds. My dad came out with a pitcher of lemonade and offered it to us, I gladly accepted it. It wasn’t like real lemonade or anything like that, I think it must have just been the Crystal Light stuff that mom keeps around, but it didn’t matter. Lemonade used to be my all-time favorite drink, there really was nothing like it. But anymore I just drink soda, Coke and Sprite and other stuff that gives you diabetes, not that I have diabetes.

It was more or less dark when Max had to go home, his parents were cleaning out his cellar and needed him to be able to get into the crawlspace, explaining the condition of his jeans. Trista got a ride to my house with Max so he told her he was about to leave. “It’s alright, my dad can take you home” I said, attempting to buy some much needed alone time with my girlfriend. Max took the hint and didn’t press any further.

We were alone on the porch when a cool air brushed in through the screen. It must have been getting kinda late. Probably around 7, our lemonade pitcher was nearly empty. She was leaning on me just the way I like, then she sat up like she was about to get up or something, but instead she kissed me. In all honesty she had never kissed me before. We had been dating for about four months, but we had never kissed. Maybe she thought I needed it on account of my dog dying or something, I’m not sure, but it was nice. You never realize how nice a kiss is before you have one, mostly because it doesn’t really make sense, I often think about things like that, but when it all comes down to it, some things just can’t be described.

Here’s the truth, I had never kissed anyone until that point. I know it seems kinda late but it’s the truth, in fact, Trista was the first girl I ever dated. It may sound kinda funny, especially since Max had his first girlfriend in the 6^th grade. It seems like everyone has their first girlfriend in the sixth grade, except me of course.

While it was happening, keep in mind I was somewhat blindsided when it happened, I didn’t know what to do. I started to hold on to her around her waist but it was kinda strange so I ultimately just put one hand in her hair and one at my side. When it was over I just started laughing, hell, I laughed my head off.

Then she just looked at me, her cheeks were red as anything, and she started laughing too. We must have laughed for five minutes straight. I’m not even sure why. Trista is probably only about three-fourths my height and she has this bleached blonde hair (natural) these days she has this purple streak going down the right side, back then it was all bright though. She has kinda these mousy features, and whenever she gets mad she gives off this really squinty look that I’m not too fond of. But her cheeks are the most amusing thing about her. Literally any time she has an emotion, her cheeks light up like Christmas. It’s the greatest thing.

I swear I was on top of the world. It’s one of those times you just wanna scream and make a total fool of yourself, but I tried to hold it in. She could tell I was happy though on account of my heart beating at six times its normal pace. All I could say to her afterwards was “Have you ever seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

“No” she said, although she seemed curious

“We’ll have to watch it sometime”

After that I can remember just talking with her for a while about assorted nonsense. Then it came time and her dad called and said he was coming to pick her up. I said goodbye and gave her a hug and one more kiss and she was off.

I just stayed on the porch and listened to the rain for about an hour. I really like just listening to rain, it is relaxing. At around 9 my dad called me to come inside for dinner. We just had frozen chicken sandwiches that were all right. Naturally my dad gave me hell about the whole Trista situation. I didn’t mind though, that’s his job. “So do you have any assignments due Monday?” he asked me.

“Um, just one but it won’t take too long” I paused to take a bite “It’s just a one page essay on the French Revolution”

“Ah,” He scratched at his beard “How’s that class going”

“Good, I don’t have many problems with social studies” I really don’t, I don’t know why but I have always had a lot of interest in history and stuff like that. It’s probably because you can really see how everything that’s around today got to where it is. My favorite part is when they talk about Pangaea and how when the Earth was young all the land used to be grouped up into one big ball. I always liked that, I don’t know why. Something about all the land being bunched together in one big ball interests me.

We ate dinner and afterwards I didn’t really feel like going back out to the porch so I just went up to my room. I always used to wish my room was bigger, I guess I just got used to it. My walls were dark red, not that that was my favorite color, that’s just how they were my whole life. My family had lived in this house my whole life which all of my friends thought was strange, but it was just normal to me. I just laid on my bed for a while, not really doing anything in particular. I’m a good thinker, I think. I like to think about a lot of things, my mom says that I think more than I should for my age. Usually I would go on the computer for like an hour but the week before my birthday, I didn’t want to. I know why too, you see my family shares a computer and my dad does all of his shopping online, well I knew if I got on the computer I would just look through the history and see what they got me. This year I didn’t want to do that. So I just sat in bed for a while and decided to call up Max.

“Whatup Samwise?” Max seemingly screamed into his phone.

“What’s going on Mister Frodo?” We didn’t usually use these names but we had just watched The Lord of the Rings marathon the weekend before so Max decided he would be Frodo and I would be Sam. Max always wanted to be the hero, I was ok with it this time because I always liked Sam better, as a character, y’know.

“Anything good on tonight?” Max said

“I don’t think so, It’s Saturday everyone’s out”

“Yeah…” There was a long pause “So what do you think about Caroline?”

“She’s nice enough” She really was. I used to have a thing for her back in 7^th grade, I never told anyone though, she wasn’t always the prettiest girl, but she had dyed her hair blonde earlier in the year and it was like she was a new person. Sometimes all a girl has to do is dye her hair or something.

“Do you think she’d be interested in me?” Max asked

“I don’t know man, try and present yourself to her, a lot of times that’s all it takes and then she will start noticing you”

“You think?”

“Definitely, it’s all about confidence” I was talking out of my ass, the thing is, I knew it. I had no idea about what I was talking about, I had dated one girl ever. I talk out of my ass sometimes. If I have a major fault, it’s that I talk out of my ass.

“I think I’m gonna call her next weekend, do you think that will work?”

“Dude, I can’t say for sure, but I think I have seen her giving you the eye” I said.

I hadn’t seen her giving him “the eye” Sometimes all you have to do is give someone a push in the right direction. I know Max would have eventually talked to her, but now that he knew I was on board he was more likely to do it. I always had a funny feeling as if Caroline liked Max. I always thought it would be cool to have a double-date. But then again Trista and Caroline weren’t really friends. Sometimes you just don’t think about that sort of thing.

After I was done talking to Max I went downstairs. My sister had gone to bed but my dad was still up. He was watching SportsCenter for about the third time. He was laying down on the couch with his torso propped up on the arm though, the way little kids sit on a couch. I sat down in the chair by the TV.

“You home for tonight?” He asked me like he was only half awake

“Yeah, when’s mom comin’ home?”

“Tomorrow afternoon” he said “Think of anything you want for your birthday?”

“Umm, well I have been thinking that maybe I want some new shirts”

“Clothes, eh? Well that shouldn’t be too hard, any video games?”

“Well,” I couldn’t think of anything, that killed me, I seriously could not think of a single video game that I wanted. “the Grand Theft Auto expansion packs are out now, that would be nice” Good save.

We just sat there and watched TV for God knows how long, it was nice, we didn’t talk much but I always appreciated the understood silence of our relationship. Neither of us are big talkers. I think I get that from him.

It was still storming pretty badly when I went to bed. I could tell my sister didn’t like it cause when I walked by her room she had all her blankets over her head like she was in her own little private world.

I went and sat in my bed. Reg used to lay right by my bed, the whole thought of it just made me really sad. I didn’t like to think that things were just over. I just didn’t like the idea of that, I can’t remember if I prayed or just wished that he could come back, even for a day. I told Reggie that I wish I could have said goodbye and that I always loved him as a dog. I told him that he could sleep in my bed tonight if he could just come back. Then I did something really stupid. I opened my window which looked out on my backyard and I called out to him, like he could hear me: “Reggie, it’s ok, I know you don’t like the outside too much so if you want, you can sleep in my bed tonight”

It was probably the dumbest thing I could have done. But it made me feel a little bit better.  I started thinking about Max’s dirty pants and Space Proximitas and how I was pretty sure I was too old for those books. Then I started to think about my dad asking me about my birthday and how my sister was all bundled up because of the storm and I just broke down and cried right there in bed. I don’t think I can explain it. Those things weren’t even sad. It just seemed like everything was changing so fast, I got so scared and I just lost it. Even the kiss from Trista was scary at that point. I just curled up into a ball and bundled up in all my blankets so I could be in my own private world and just pretended Reg was there.

Stay tuned...

New Story tonight!

wasn't going to post it but I figured I would because you guys are so patient.

Nice, Nice, Nice.

Good evening.
You may find it unfortunate that I never posted the story I was supposed to, you may think that I still have it stowed away or that I am panning to finish it soon. You are half right. I have been quite busy with the end of the year happenings to tell you the truth but I do plan on updating this blog more in the spring semester. so stay tuned. thanks. Merry Christmas.

Next: Power

Next story will be "Power" and will be up within 2 weeks (probably less)

The Death

His sister was dead.  She sat cold under the ground. Days earlier, her life had been taken. They found her body in an alleyway behind her apartment with her legs broken and her skull bashed open.  He didn’t know who killed her or why. The umbrella was clasped in a fist above the cemetery, all the others had left, and he stood alone.

The Death (or Safe, Cheap, and Revolutionary)

October 12^th, 1949

“He’s out with some whore, I know it. He’s slept around before, I kept my mouth shut until now but I can’t any longer.” She said in a howl “I’m gonna divorce him, and hang him out to dry, that’s what he deserves anyway”

“I don’t work for loonies, miss, unless the pay is worth it” he said, lighting his cigarette “and So I’m thinking, what’s your offer?”

 “I can pay you, I’ll pay you four-hundred dollars”

Mrs. Evelyn Brooks a 51 year old housewife who Roeper felt was “entitled to the greatest life imagined, or so she thinks”

“6 days work you’d be paying me for, along with my associates, doesn’t that seem like overkill”

“It doesn’t matter, my husband is elusive and I am rich”

“up front.”

“of course”

“and what if I find out he’s just playing hearts at the lodge?”

“you won’t, but  my money is good and I trust that you are qualified”

Roeper agreed and escorted the lady out. He was suspicious. Four-hundred up front for a domestic issue? Generally that was unheard of, especially for a case that would take him an evening to solve. All he had to do would be to go to his work address, wait for him to leave, then follow him until he arrived at his “destination.” A few pictures and a case file, this would be cut and dry.

October 14^th 1949

Pete Vaughn settled himself in one of the office chairs, he had made the appointment a week ago just after the funeral. He fiddled with his pocket watch which had once been his fathers. The time on the clock face said 9:30. He would have missed dinner with his family if he had one. He moved to the corner of the room where a record player sat. He looked through the Investigators collection and decided upon an Ink Spots record from a few years back.

Into each life, some rain must fall/ but too much has fallen in mine

Roeper came in at 10:12. He was carrying a folder of papers all dripping wet.  His clothes were soaked as well. Pete hadn’t even noticed the storm outside. The papers were Roeper’s case report. He had a disheveled look on his face. He moved to his desk not noticing Pete in the room.

Randall Roeper was a man of six feet, two inches which was particularly tall for his place in time. He had moved to New York when he was 25 in 1938, while he was looking for work in the city, some people in Europe got angry with each other and decided to have a war again, now this would have been all well and good, but a few of the Europeans convinced some of the Japanese that it would be a good idea to get Randall involved. After he went on vacation to Africa, Italy, France, and scenic Germany, he came back to New York.

“Mr. Roeper” Pete spoke up

“Eeugh!!!” he answered, startled. “Who are you? The office is closed.”

“Apologies, it wasn’t closed when I arrived” he stated “we had an appointment for 6 o’clock”

“Did we?” Roeper responded “well if that’s true then I suppose I owe you an apology, but I am very busy right now so we must reschedule, is tomorrow alright?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Roeper, this is an urgent matter” retorted Pete

“Well, unless you ‘just know your husband is fooling around with some whore’ when in reality he’s with every broad on the block, I think it can wait” he explained “I mean for Christ’s sake some of these women were in her book club”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow” Pete explained “but it can’t wait, if you’ll just hear me for a moment, I think you will find my offer appealing”

“Ok kid, shoot”

Pete began “A week ago my sister was killed; I’d like you to find out who did it”

Roeper’s expression shifted from amusement to intrigue. “Son, I think you should seek out you’re the local authorities”

“I can’t. Or, I tried. They don’t think she was killed. See, my sister was not the type of person the police care much about.” Pete said “She was a prostitute, not someone who raises a lot of flags when they turn up dead, anyway the police called the death “an unfortunate accident”

“Prostitute? Kid, I hate to say my ex-boys in the NYPD are right, but” Roeper paused seeing the defeated look on Pete’s face, he knew then this was the kid’s last resort. “Do you know who would want to kill your sister?

“I’m afraid I don’t” Pete said “in all truth, we were estranged. I hadn’t spoken to her in years, until one week ago, the night before she died”

“What did she say?”

Pete went on “She said she was scared, scared that there was a man who was going to take her away from her happiness, she said she was sorry for abandoning the family after mom died. She said that she was sorry for everything and that all she needed was a place to hide out” Pete wiped his nose, as he spoke his voice cracked. “I told her that I was sorry and that I couldn’t have her stay. I told her to act like an adult and get her life together.”

“Hey, look, that’s not your fault you had no idea what would happen” Roeper said, uncomfortably playing with his necktie

“You don’t understand,” Pete said “I wasn’t there for her, now is my only chance”

The desperation was boiling inside of Pete, Roeper could see it now.

“And you think I can figure out who did this?”

“I know it, I’ve seen your casework and you have a knack for finding people, I can give you all of the information I know and I’m willing to pay fifteen hundred, plus expenses”

“I don’t’ think you understand. I don’t find murderers. I catch cheating husbands, I find little kids who run away from home.”

“What is so different about this?” Pete asked “I have placed my confidence in you, all you need to do is give me an address, a name and I will take care of the rest.”

“Now, before we go doing something you are gonna regret” Roeper said “you should think twice about this, I don’t endorse guys going around who think themselves higher than the law”

“I just want justice for my sister” Pete explained. “one way or the other”

“Alright..” Roeper felt Pete’s rage burning in his heart, and suddenly it became personal “I’ll do it” Roeper said

“Thank you, I mean that sincerely” Pete laid a file full of everything he knew on the desk and began to turn and walk out

“Where’s a kid like you get that kind of coin in this city anyhow” Roeper inquired

“I work for Delamont I&F. I am a scientist.”

Delamont Industries and Futuristics built the bomb. The atom bomb which we know of today was made four years earlier in a lab just outside of Ithaca, New York. The story behind it was that they built a model to see how a nuclear meltdown could affect large-scale populated areas. When time came for testing they had no luck finding a place big enough, they later found out that the Manhattan Project was blocking them from testing so that the government would have the first test on a nuclear weapon. Some of the men working on the “Large-scale Omegaburst Nuclear Evisceration Radiator” or LONER still believe there were government spies on the project. No one was sure what happened to the LONER after that, most people think the government paid Delamont off to just lock it away in storage.

Pete Vaughn worked in a completely different department however. Being just out of college on a degree in Pharmaceutical science, Pete worked mostly with experimental drugs designed to stop the spread of epidemic diseases in third world countries. With few exceptions.

---

Roeper drove his car to a gas station, the same one he always went to. It was a Gas-o-fil and it was one of the last of its kind. K-28 was the new. It ran twice as long and twice as clean. He sat in his car as the attendant filled the tank. In the passenger seat was his case file which at this point was nearly empty, save for a slim piece of paper Pete had scrawled his information on along with all the information he knew about the event. It seemed when Pete’s sister, Phoebe Vaughn, had called Pete she left him an address where he could find her, apparently where all the girls were staying. Roeper figured he could get some information from her fellow ladies of the night even if he didn’t get to speak with the pimp. 412 B Eastland Apartments, Bronx.

---

Pete stepped out of the lobby which housed Roeper’s offices and a law office of one Christopher Gottfried. Pete saw that the storm outside had subsided and now the humidity from the air had created a dense fog. Pete began his walk home, occasionally passing by a drifter or a prostitute, all reminding him of his fatal error. The multicolored city lights blurred in the fog creating a hazy cloud of smut and depravity. The city killed his sister, Pete knew this, but worse, he let it happen. This neon cloud had consumed her. He had to give her justice.

---

Roeper arrived at Eastland Apartments. The streets were alive with what some people called culture. Roeper spent most of his formative years in boarding school and the rest in the war. The various  women of the night greeted him at the front gates with promises he knew they couldn’t keep. The room they brought him to was dark and smelled of sin. The man they brought him to was sitting on an orange couch with two barely dressed women.

“Listen officer, these ladies are my renters, I am a simple landlord” he spoke through his teeth

“Relax, I’m not a police officer” Roeper said “I’m a private detective looking for a murderer”

“This must be about Phoebe, sad thing. That girl was one of the best..”

“Spare me the details, can you take me to her room?”

“Sure, man, whatever helps”

They went to the second floor; Roeper thought things must be moving too smoothly. He thought for sure he would have to break in to see the apartment.

---

Pete walked halfway home, he began to be persuaded by the fog. He turned and went into a cheap place called Yeardley’s. tonight it was empty. He sat down and ordered a beer.

---

Roeper stood and watched the pimp open the door to the apartment.  He turned to Roeper and said in a whisper “You gotta find the guy”

“What guy?”

“The guy who killed her, he had been coming to see her for a few weeks, then they get into a big fight, I tried to break it up but he was gone” he went on “She was dead the next day”

                Roeper could only think about how his mother once said there was no honor amongst thieves.

---

Pete sat in a deserted bar, listening to the radio, all the radio ever talked about was space anymore, space and K-28. The bells attached to the door rang and a man in a brown leather jacket came in and ordered a club soda. He was a foot taller than Pete, he had a buzzed haircut and stained hands.

“It’s eleven o’clock and you are at a bar, I gotta ask what’s up with the drink” Pete said half-drunkenly

“I don’t drink” the man in the brown jacket stated

“Then what brings you here friend?”

“It seemed fitting, to grieve at a bar”

---

Roeper looked through the room, trying to step over as much of the filth as he could. Mostly trash. Unsavory things, but nothing he wasn’t suspecting.  He looked down into the alley where she died, four stories down, as he walked to the window he lost he tripped on a telephone cord and nearly fell out the window, he caught himself on the curtains. He cursed the phone cord. The telephone sat on the bed and the phone book was open to The “Va” page. Roeper remembered that she called her brother the night before she died. Roeper picked up the phone book and saw there was a dog-ear on another page. The page was “Gr” he went for his notepad when he saw something on the bed.

---

“Where do you work?” Pete asked the stranger

“Auto shop on 3^rd street” he responded

“So you must not be too fond of this discovery”

“You mean the K-28? Ah I guess I wouldn’t be fond of it if my little brother wasn’t one of the guys going to get it”

“Your brother is a part of the Voltaire 6?”

“Yes he is” The man looked distantly at his glass “I just hope everything goes well.”

“Pete Vaughn” he introduced himself

“Frank Gratt” he shook his hand

“You say you’re grieving, may ask about what?”

“Yes my…my wife just passed away” the stranger said

“I’m sorry to hear that, but you’re not alone. My sister just passed away.”

“That’s a real tragedy”

“Yes it is, she was killed actually, I could have helped her too, she begged for help and I ignored her”

“You can’t think that way, I tried so hard to save her life, all she did was resist me”

“What happened to her?” Pete asked

“Drugs. Weird drugs.” The man said

---

Underneath the phone book was a bottle of pills, half gone and spilled on the bed. He looked at the label: Lucidite. He had heard the name before, he wrote a few words in his note book. He walked by the window again being careful of the phone cord, the window was open. He looked down into the alley he could see where she died. We went downstairs to look at the alley.All the blood had been cleaned off the pavement he saw a dumpster that had an unusual dent on the outer edge. Roeper looked at the dumpster and saw a red stain on top of the lid. Blood. On top of the dumpster, he looked up and saw the open window of 412 directly above. He drove home.

Roeper sat at the end of his bed, thumbing through a Time magazine. The main article celebrated the ten year anniversary of the discovery of a planet outside of the known Solar System called Galos. Roeper was not concerned with planets. He found the article. Titled “The End of a Bad Night’s Sleep” the article went in detail about the drug. The drugs main purpose was a sleep aid, but it worked by giving the sleeper the ability to control their dreams, to give the dreamer a task, convincing the brain it needed more sleep.

---

“What do you mean by that?” Pete asked the man

“The drugs, they were for sleeping, but she developed a condition, she didn’t know when she was awake”

Pete’s eyes widened, he was sober now.

“She jumped from a building, 4 stories up”

“Oh my God,” Pete was aware now of something “where was this?” Pete asked “If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Bronx, over by Eastland, why? Did you hear about it”

“No, its just, I should be getting home”

---

Roeper read the article: “The drug was developed by a local pharmaceutical company funded by business powerhouse Delamont I&F, (Industries and Futuristics) with no known side effects as of now except for occasional sleepwalking.  The lead developer of the drug had this to say: ‘We are seeing new frontiers every day. This drug is safe, cheap, and revolutionary, of course I recommend it’ Delamont I&F has of course seen an increase in stocks over the past few weeks.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” Roeper answered putting the magazine down

“It’s me, Pete” he took a pause “I just wanted to say thanks for looking into the case but I won’t be needing your service anymore, I left all the money we agreed to in your maildrop.”

“What happened?”

“I found the guy who killed her” he said in a tone that almost sounded like he was joking

“Pete, what are you talking about? I have evidence right here that says it probably wasn’t even homicide”

“Safe, Cheap, Revolutionary” Pete said

Roeper understood “Pete, what’s going on, don’t do anything stupid, what are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I said I would do." Pete paused "Justice” He hung up the phone.

Randall Roeper Delays.

Sorry to all who were expecting something sooner but I have been moving at a slower pace than I would have desired, Part one Titled "The Death" should be up within the week

I Hadn't Written the Title Until I Wrote The Word [gargoyle]

I leave it up to you, reader. I give you the option of listening to me. I wouldn't listen to me if I was given the option. I'm going to start a few lines down which gives you some time to decide whether you really want to read or not.



Still here? Ok lets get started.
It's rapidly approaching five o'clock here in Bloomington and by the time I finish writing this paragraph it will be. Its a funny thing how we incorporate time into our lives. We have schedules, we are sometimes late and we are sometimes early. The passing of time is an interesting concept to me. Someone cynical once said at sometime that we are all inching closer to our own mortality. Every minute is one minute closer to kicking the bucket. I tend to have a differing opinion, and its not like I have some grand plan for enlightenment, I just have a simple idea. Its 5:02.

My idea is that wherever you sit, stand, lay, right now, is where you will always be. For the rest of you're existence, whether it rolls on after you kick that proverbial bucket or not, you will be bound through this moment in time.

Hold your horses this isn't black magic.

It doesn't have to be this moment either, it could be any moment. The point of the matter is: our memories are tremendous things, capable of insurmountable feats. Think back to you're earliest memory, now ask yourself if what you just did was nothing short of time travel? Even now you are experiencing it because you are reading this after I wrote it. It is 5:10 in Bloomington, Indiana, September 12, 2012.  That is where and what time it was only seconds ago. Now it is 5:12 I just looked away for a moment. Time is passing but I am still bound to the past. I remember writing the first sentence of this post. I know by the time I finish the post I will have written more than i have right now.

I may not know the specifics of every memory I've ever had, but now I have written proof of the last 17 minutes of my life. This are moment that are no longer occurring to you the reader, but I am living through every second of them right now.

I will be finished writing this blog post before you even knew it exists.

I'm not sure how long it will be or the specifics of the next few sentences, but I know it will end with the word: Cranberry.

Why? because although I cannot predict the future, I can use my will to make the future what I want, to a certain degree. That is unless I die before I can finish this post, which is improbable, but if I do, you the reader will never know that this post ever existed. This really is an amazing world.

The point of all of this is [gargoyle] that our past cannot change, but it is by no means gone. If one of your relatives died long ago then it is true (and not just in a cliche way either) that they are alive in your memories, if you once won an award then you are winning it now, for as long as you remember it. The other point is that the future is for the most part, undecided. Some things however, you can put into existence with your very will. You control the future. That's pretty amazing to me. It is 5:31. Cranberry.