File:Nine-banded Armadillo.jpg
Sean got to work that morning early. More than an hour early; which was strange for the man who never wished to give more than one minute extra to the slave owners, as he mentally referred to them. It was late October which meant it was still dark. He immediately went to his computer to check something out.
Armadillos are small placental mammals, known for having a leathery armor shell. The Dasypodidae are the only surviving family in the order Cingulata, part of the superorder Xenarthra along with the anteaters and sloths. The word armadillo is Spanish for "little armored one".
There are approximately 10 extant genera and around 20 extant species of armadillo, some of which are distinguished by the number of bands on their armor. Their average length is about 75 centimeters (30 in), including tail; the Giant Armadillo grows up to 1.5 m (5 ft) and weighs 59 kg (130 lbs), while the Pink Fairy Armadillos are diminutive species with an overall length of 12-15 cm (4-5 in). All species are native to the Americas, where they inhabit a variety of environments.
In the United States, the sole resident armadillo is the Nine-banded Armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus), which is most common in the central southernmost states, particularly Texas. Their range is as far east as South Carolina and Florida and as far north as Nebraska; they have been consistently expanding their range over the last century due to a lack of natural predators and have been found as far north as Illinois and Indiana.
Jesus. Nebraska and Illinois. Then its true. I did see a herd of armadillos this morning on the way to work. They were just on the edge of the forest across from my house. This might be the first sighting of these strange creatures in this state. Ha. What the hell are they moving up here for? I mean is it global warming? I mean it has not been that brutally hot up here and according to Wiki they like heat and even like to swim a little.
There was one other thing that really got to Sean. All the pictures show grey as a primary color of the little buggers. There are not supposed to be any orange armadillos. And are they really supposed to be six feet or more long? And he could have sworn one of them stood up on its hind legs. After this, Sean would go nowhere without his nifty new camera. The one Bernice from accounting bought him.
t was 11:30 when Sean showed up for the meeting with Frank.
Hi Jenny. The old man ready for the brains of this outfit?
He has not come in yet Sean.
Did he call in?
No. And I have left three messages for him.
Tell you what. I finished all my paperwork early. I am going to take an early lunch and drop by his place.
Sean packed up, got into his car and made the fifteen minute journey to Frank's abode.
It was one of those kind of rainy days in the fall. The fear was that the temp would go down to something under 30 and then there was hell to pay. That road condition is one you do not wish to face sober, let alone party cloudy as they say. Sean grabbed a dooby from the luxury ashtray and played some WHO.
Who are you? Who are you? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_FZVD5lsAw
As soon as he got in Frank's driveway, Sean knew something was amiss. He could not put his finger on it, but something was not quite right. He got out and walked up to the garage door. First the door of the garage was not completely closed. There was kind of a three inch gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. He peeked through the window and saw Frank's car. But the tarp--the cover Frank always used for his old Ferrari--as in shreds on the floor.
He knew that Frank had got the car back after the highway patrol found it on the old road a couple days before. He knew because Frank told him the day he it was returned.
He went to the front door and knocked and rang the bell. No response.
He tried the knob, the door opened right up.
Frank! Frank!!
Sean called several times as he went further and further into the house. There was Frank, on the floor by his desk and his magic PC. He got down and felt his neck. Blood was pumping and he was breathing. He grabbed his cell and called 9-11. Sean pushed the secret button to close up the computer. As he did so he noticed an envelope labeled 'top secret'. He took it back to his car. Then he went back inside to wait for the EMT's.
Meanwhile, back on the old road....
Frank could barely see a thing and he could only move inches at a time, attempting to drag himself...to where. Ahhhhhhh forget it. Come and get me.
The sound was not exactly thumping. It was more like skipping on the cement/asphalt freeway. Louder and louder...THEY WERE GETTING CLOSER.
He felt breathing, heavy breathing on his neck. His fear increased to the point where he was having trouble breathing again.
TEEN AGE MUTANT NINJAS?
His sight was sooooooooooo bad. These creatures just mulled around him. All of a sudden he felt himself being dragged into the woods, he would guess. But why? I mean if THEY are just wild animals of some kind why should they care where they have their dinner?
He found himself in the forest, almost totally blind and he was filthy and totally wiped out. As exhausted as he ever felt. He was almost totally paralyzed. All that he kept thinking was helpless.
Helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gKwjxF7ilI
Suddenly, he felt as if he were being dragged into a hole.
Frank suddenly awoke in a hospital bed at the NORTHCO Medical Center.
Back at Eastern Headquarters, Langdon was getting more confused as each day passed. He had a board filled with notes and pictures and other odds and ends. The attempt was to get the full picture as it were. And all he had so far was a Picasso; just a twisted jumbo of nothing. Yet there were messages in all this muck.
Langdon started a list.
Algernon Flowers, a gay part-time transvestite invites his lover Thomas Corkland over for din din.
They both work at NORTHCO.
Thomas definitely enters Algernon's abode and the party begins.
Animals arrive in a wagon of some kind through the front door. At least one of these animals was a raccoon. The domestic feline had nothing to do with the entire affair and probably was in hiding at some point during the proceedings.
Besides nibbling by raccoons, there were other indications of a much larger animal as far as damage to the corpse. And Sam figured the nibblings by the raccoons took place following the death of Thomas. It was most probably an alligator that took the head off, according to forensics. At least that was the best guess. The DNA testing would be accomplished in Pierre and would take a month. I mean they have to narrow down the species responsible for this heinous crime.
My aim has to be to discover who the human perps are in this mess.
Algernon is nuts but he probably was not able to carry out anything close to this. That file is not closed, but...come on.
But there is one place that he needs to investigate and that is NORTHCO. NORTHCO has to have something to do with this...
Langdon began to review the files discovered at Thomas Corkland's home. After meeting Mrs. Corkland, he had no inclination to go back there. Thomas' mom was nuts. He needed some more information but Sherry can go back and glean more from that psycho.
But some of Corkland's notes read like they were written in some sort of code. I mean, what the hell is this conspiracy crap claiming NORTHCO and Obama were somehow conspiring to bring down America?
And yet, here was a guy who had been with NORTHCO for six years and cannot figure out what NORTHCO actually does. And even Langdon himself never got a straight answer as to what this corporate dictator manufactured or produced. So the detective now had made this mystery his prime concern. He would certainly have enough information to gather regarding Corkland's pension, life insurance, pay, etc to present probable cause to delve further into this.
I must set up an appointment to speak with that Spincter guy. I hope he is less anal than his moniker but somehow I know that hope is not going to be fulfilled.
SALLY, GET YOUR FANNY IN HERE.
If I did not absolutely love the guy, I would file a civil rights complaint tomorrow, sighed Sally.
Sean was beside himself. By the time he got back to work he had about an hour and a half left of his work day. And he had to spend it with Spincter.
What the hell was he doing on the floor anyway? Did you find drugs or paraphernalia. AND WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING IN FRANK'S HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE?
Mr. Spincter, please. I am in as much a quandary over all this as you are. More actually, I know the guy. He is my friend. He has been to my place, I have been to his place. Our wives use to socialize together, before they both left us to the single life.
I mean, I have to watch my demeanor here Mr. Spincter. I was at Frank's home because just last week he missed three days of work due to illness and he was not at our scheduled meeting a half hour before noon today. I was concerned when I was told that calls had been made to his house and those calles received no response. It was my duty, as floor manager to find out what, if anything, went wrong.
Okay, okay Sean. I stepped over a line here. I should not blame all my troubles on you or Frank. But I have to know...did you find any evidence of drug use.
Just when we share a reefer from time to time on Frank's porch, Sean thought.
No, of course not. The only drugs available around here are caffeine and alcohol available at our local Castle.
You better not be lying....okay, okay. That is not fair. He is at the medical center now, right?
Yes. I will visit him tomorrow on my way to work. And you have all the authorizations, hell its NORTHCO's center. My cousin was an epileptic and I have an inkling that that is what we are dealing with now. I am sure there will be an MRI along with an EEG. Hell probably an EKG also. Blood tests, etc. etc. etc. Mr. Spincter, you will be getting the answers to all your questions in the next couple of days.
All right. That is more than fair. Thank you Sean. You are dismissed.
Thank you Sir, Sean said as he turned to leave. God I hate that guy. YOU ARE DISMISSED. And you are a hairy asshole, he thought.
Friday already. Oh, he was going to meet with Bernice from accounting at the Castle.
You know, I really do miss that ale when I have been away too long, Sean thought.
Friday, October 30, 2009
NORTHCOVIII: Strange Fauna
Racoon
Yesterday morning when I went out to feed the rabbits I noticed some blood on the straw in several places and also up the ramp to the feeder hutch. The blood seemed diluted, not bright red and thick and sticky but kind of like blood in urine, only too colorful for that. It was also on the three senior does, in a stream, almost as if they'd been peed on. I picked them each up and gave them a good look but didn't see anything amiss. I also checked out the senior buck, and he looked fine. The kits are hard to catch without a treat to distract them, so I just observed them all for a while. Everyone seemed fine.
It snowed all day yesterday. This morning there was lots of color on the snow in the rabbit colony. It's orange, though, not red. Clearly not blood. We can't figure out what it is. We didn't notice it when we fed the rabbits yesterday evening, because the snow was still falling and covering everything up. It isn't seeping up from the earth, because we dug down a bit and the snow gets white underneath. It isn't dripping from trees because it's in places incongruent with that theory. http://gardenplotter.com/rospo/blog/2007/01/mystery-in-rabbit-colony.html
The police showed up at Algernon's home about 11:00 that night. Algie was beside herself, or himself or himself was beside herself...anyway....
The call had been made one half hour before. Officers were already at the scene when Detective Langdon arrived with his partner at Algernon's abode.
He was hysterical during his 911 conversation with Emergency Services.
He had led the two cops into the living room and pointed out the corpse, or what was left of it.
A body lay naked on the grayish white carpet. The head and left arm were gone. Just gone. There was blood all over the place. On the carpet, on two walls. There certainly had been a struggle.
Algie was in his robe. There was blood on the robe from top to bottom. Although Algie had washed his face and even shaved just before the officers' arrival, he had left his long earrings on, the ones with the zircon diamonds.
Langdon looked at his partner. Sherry, and they decided that the State Bureau should also be notified.
Mr. Flower, we need to talk down town. And we need that robe. And we have to get you out of here so that the crime scene is left as pure as possible. Mr. Flower?
Algie was just sitting there on the sofa, head in hands, bent over; weeping uncontrollably. Langdon thought: This is not going to be easy. Just then a cat, a huge white fluffy cat came in from the kitchen.
Langdon stooped over to pick up the feline. Have you got a little portable kennel for fluffy here? Algie. Algie you got to look at me. NOW
Algie sat up. Loretta. Ooooooooooh Loretta. Let me have my Loretta.
I cannot do that Algie. NOW WHERE IS THE CAGE?
Behind the buckets in the pantry.
Just then back-up showed up with an ambulance. Following a call to homicide, Langdon released Algie in his robe to the EMT's escorted by back up. I aint gonna get much out of him right now. He knew that Algernon would be checked over at the hospital for any injuries and the robe and slippers would be handed over to forensics.
Langdon found the cage/kennel and deposited the cat in it. He handed it to Officer Lee who would put it in the squad car and take it to Animal Rescue.
Langdon had already worked on six murders in this little nook of South Dakota in the last five years. Every one of them was strange. As if any murder is not strange. It was just that no spouses were responsible for the deaths. No drug dealers. In fact no relatives were found to be suspects in these murders.
And here was 75% of a corpse....wait, what the hell is that ? Langdon said to no one in particular. In the corner covered partly by the front drape was a ...a critter of some sort. And it had a strange glow to it.
Sherry, flip that light switch a sec, will ya?
Sherry turned the main living room lights off, and sure enough the critter glowed orange.
Both Langdon and Sherry of course had their gloves on along with booties to cover their shoes. Forensic finally showed up taking pictures of the body and the room from all angles.
Finally Langdon felt safe enough to examine the critter. Except it was not dead. The raccoon turned suddenly and bit Langdon right on the arm and began running in a panic all over the room, all over the floor and the walls further tracking blood all over the place.
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST....Langdon was beside himself. Where in the fuck did a raccoon come from? If those officers who first hit this scene did not shut the goddamn door...
The critter got caught in the drapes and Langdon tore the curtains down and used it as a net to capture the animal. At least we got pix before the damn chaos. Animal Rescue was called immediately. Now even they would have to get involved personally. Langdon had one of the officers watch over the 'package' until they got there. And the detective of course now had a stake in Animal Rescue since tests would let him know if he was in danger of some virus or even rabies.
Meanwhile Langdon, now wrapped in a bandage given him by one of his cops, took a closer look at the corpse. The head had not been taken off by a saw or other implement. That was for sure. Samson the chain smoking coroner was approaching the body at the same time.
No tools here, said Samson. He turned the body over and examined the shoulder and the neck from a different angle. This appears to have been bit off, pointing to the shoulder with the missing arm. Lang look here, teeth marks. And look at the neck. Shredded. I mean, no human being did this!!!
Was there anybody else here. I mean somebody phoned this in to 911.
Yeah, a boyfriend who lives here. But he was in shock. I mean I could get nothing out of him but wailing. He was taken to the hospital for observation with an escort and psych will have a look at him. I will get there tomorrow morning. Sam, is there any clue as to the size of these teeth? You know, the teeth of the perp or perps?
Well I need to get the body back to the morgue so I can get a better look...hell I want a CT on this one for sure. But they are smaller teeth, a lot of gnawing.
About the size of some raccoons dentures you think?
As he arose from the body, Langdon saw something on the carpet. Tire marks from the front door. Feint marks like from a wagon or something.
HOW THE HELL DID I EVER END UP IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE ANYWAY?
Meanwhile back on the old road....
Frank somehow awoke on the side of the road next to his car. What the hell am I doing here? It was the middle of the night. This was on the old road where he had pulled over the car.
Well this has got to be good. This is a dream. It has to be a dream.
He managed to get up and he carefully examined himself as best he could in front of his headlights. Nothing. Just the dirt from the road where he had been lying. Yeah, same suit. Doors all shut on the car. Keys in his pocket.
Self satisfaction went by the way side real fast. The wood was not more than fifty feet from the edge of the road where he stood. Eyes were peering at him through the trees; so many he could not count them. They moved as he moved. Slowly he moved around to the driver's side and pulled out his keys.
He dropped them. Where the hell are they. His heart began to pound and he felt the perspiration right on his head and neck. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
Now let's just calm down a minute, Frank thought. Or did he say it aloud? Frank was not sure of one goddamnable thing. All of a sudden, as he looked down for the keys again, his sight was lost. Just like that. He got down on his knees and felt around for the keys. Nada. Nothing. Breathing became very hard for this man and suddenly he was paralyzed.
He heard rustling from the wood, THEY WERE COMING FOR HIM......
Langdon went right from the scene of the murder to his office. Pierre had helped set it up to cover all of eastern South Dakota. He had scoffed of course, just seeing the entire complex of state and county offices as a give away to NORTHCO. But what the hell did he know, anyway? Besides, now he had more tech at his disposal, more underlings, hell...more power than he ever would have had if he had stayed in the big city. Fourteen thousand people is not a big city of course, but everything is relative.
Turns out that Animal Protection might end up being more important that CSI, thought Langdon; at least in the early hours following this murder. And he knew damn well that the early hours usually were the most important in solving any case. Although CSI certainly found semen on the couch as well as the walls (?), DNA testing would not be accomplished for a couple of weeks, if he were lucky.
But the critter had his stomach pumped and that bad boy had certainly munched on the corpse. The cat was clean as he suspected. No rabies was discovered but Langdon was not out of the woods on that threat either since raccoons can carry a number of bacterial or viral diseases. But the only evil symptom he felt at that point was a headache and a thirst from some bad whiskey.
The shrink at the hospital refused his attempt to interview Algernon. According to Dr. Koch, the suspect just kept throwing up in a pail singing I Could Have Danced All Night. The single strangest behavior Koch had seen in his fifteen years as a psychiatrist.
If you think that is strange, I have a raccoon you should meet, thought Langdon.
Yesterday morning when I went out to feed the rabbits I noticed some blood on the straw in several places and also up the ramp to the feeder hutch. The blood seemed diluted, not bright red and thick and sticky but kind of like blood in urine, only too colorful for that. It was also on the three senior does, in a stream, almost as if they'd been peed on. I picked them each up and gave them a good look but didn't see anything amiss. I also checked out the senior buck, and he looked fine. The kits are hard to catch without a treat to distract them, so I just observed them all for a while. Everyone seemed fine.
It snowed all day yesterday. This morning there was lots of color on the snow in the rabbit colony. It's orange, though, not red. Clearly not blood. We can't figure out what it is. We didn't notice it when we fed the rabbits yesterday evening, because the snow was still falling and covering everything up. It isn't seeping up from the earth, because we dug down a bit and the snow gets white underneath. It isn't dripping from trees because it's in places incongruent with that theory. http://gardenplotter.com/rospo/blog/2007/01/mystery-in-rabbit-colony.html
The police showed up at Algernon's home about 11:00 that night. Algie was beside herself, or himself or himself was beside herself...anyway....
The call had been made one half hour before. Officers were already at the scene when Detective Langdon arrived with his partner at Algernon's abode.
He was hysterical during his 911 conversation with Emergency Services.
He had led the two cops into the living room and pointed out the corpse, or what was left of it.
A body lay naked on the grayish white carpet. The head and left arm were gone. Just gone. There was blood all over the place. On the carpet, on two walls. There certainly had been a struggle.
Algie was in his robe. There was blood on the robe from top to bottom. Although Algie had washed his face and even shaved just before the officers' arrival, he had left his long earrings on, the ones with the zircon diamonds.
Langdon looked at his partner. Sherry, and they decided that the State Bureau should also be notified.
Mr. Flower, we need to talk down town. And we need that robe. And we have to get you out of here so that the crime scene is left as pure as possible. Mr. Flower?
Algie was just sitting there on the sofa, head in hands, bent over; weeping uncontrollably. Langdon thought: This is not going to be easy. Just then a cat, a huge white fluffy cat came in from the kitchen.
Langdon stooped over to pick up the feline. Have you got a little portable kennel for fluffy here? Algie. Algie you got to look at me. NOW
Algie sat up. Loretta. Ooooooooooh Loretta. Let me have my Loretta.
I cannot do that Algie. NOW WHERE IS THE CAGE?
Behind the buckets in the pantry.
Just then back-up showed up with an ambulance. Following a call to homicide, Langdon released Algie in his robe to the EMT's escorted by back up. I aint gonna get much out of him right now. He knew that Algernon would be checked over at the hospital for any injuries and the robe and slippers would be handed over to forensics.
Langdon found the cage/kennel and deposited the cat in it. He handed it to Officer Lee who would put it in the squad car and take it to Animal Rescue.
Langdon had already worked on six murders in this little nook of South Dakota in the last five years. Every one of them was strange. As if any murder is not strange. It was just that no spouses were responsible for the deaths. No drug dealers. In fact no relatives were found to be suspects in these murders.
And here was 75% of a corpse....wait, what the hell is that ? Langdon said to no one in particular. In the corner covered partly by the front drape was a ...a critter of some sort. And it had a strange glow to it.
Sherry, flip that light switch a sec, will ya?
Sherry turned the main living room lights off, and sure enough the critter glowed orange.
Both Langdon and Sherry of course had their gloves on along with booties to cover their shoes. Forensic finally showed up taking pictures of the body and the room from all angles.
Finally Langdon felt safe enough to examine the critter. Except it was not dead. The raccoon turned suddenly and bit Langdon right on the arm and began running in a panic all over the room, all over the floor and the walls further tracking blood all over the place.
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST....Langdon was beside himself. Where in the fuck did a raccoon come from? If those officers who first hit this scene did not shut the goddamn door...
The critter got caught in the drapes and Langdon tore the curtains down and used it as a net to capture the animal. At least we got pix before the damn chaos. Animal Rescue was called immediately. Now even they would have to get involved personally. Langdon had one of the officers watch over the 'package' until they got there. And the detective of course now had a stake in Animal Rescue since tests would let him know if he was in danger of some virus or even rabies.
Meanwhile Langdon, now wrapped in a bandage given him by one of his cops, took a closer look at the corpse. The head had not been taken off by a saw or other implement. That was for sure. Samson the chain smoking coroner was approaching the body at the same time.
No tools here, said Samson. He turned the body over and examined the shoulder and the neck from a different angle. This appears to have been bit off, pointing to the shoulder with the missing arm. Lang look here, teeth marks. And look at the neck. Shredded. I mean, no human being did this!!!
Was there anybody else here. I mean somebody phoned this in to 911.
Yeah, a boyfriend who lives here. But he was in shock. I mean I could get nothing out of him but wailing. He was taken to the hospital for observation with an escort and psych will have a look at him. I will get there tomorrow morning. Sam, is there any clue as to the size of these teeth? You know, the teeth of the perp or perps?
Well I need to get the body back to the morgue so I can get a better look...hell I want a CT on this one for sure. But they are smaller teeth, a lot of gnawing.
About the size of some raccoons dentures you think?
As he arose from the body, Langdon saw something on the carpet. Tire marks from the front door. Feint marks like from a wagon or something.
HOW THE HELL DID I EVER END UP IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE ANYWAY?
Meanwhile back on the old road....
Frank somehow awoke on the side of the road next to his car. What the hell am I doing here? It was the middle of the night. This was on the old road where he had pulled over the car.
Well this has got to be good. This is a dream. It has to be a dream.
He managed to get up and he carefully examined himself as best he could in front of his headlights. Nothing. Just the dirt from the road where he had been lying. Yeah, same suit. Doors all shut on the car. Keys in his pocket.
Self satisfaction went by the way side real fast. The wood was not more than fifty feet from the edge of the road where he stood. Eyes were peering at him through the trees; so many he could not count them. They moved as he moved. Slowly he moved around to the driver's side and pulled out his keys.
He dropped them. Where the hell are they. His heart began to pound and he felt the perspiration right on his head and neck. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
Now let's just calm down a minute, Frank thought. Or did he say it aloud? Frank was not sure of one goddamnable thing. All of a sudden, as he looked down for the keys again, his sight was lost. Just like that. He got down on his knees and felt around for the keys. Nada. Nothing. Breathing became very hard for this man and suddenly he was paralyzed.
He heard rustling from the wood, THEY WERE COMING FOR HIM......
Langdon went right from the scene of the murder to his office. Pierre had helped set it up to cover all of eastern South Dakota. He had scoffed of course, just seeing the entire complex of state and county offices as a give away to NORTHCO. But what the hell did he know, anyway? Besides, now he had more tech at his disposal, more underlings, hell...more power than he ever would have had if he had stayed in the big city. Fourteen thousand people is not a big city of course, but everything is relative.
Turns out that Animal Protection might end up being more important that CSI, thought Langdon; at least in the early hours following this murder. And he knew damn well that the early hours usually were the most important in solving any case. Although CSI certainly found semen on the couch as well as the walls (?), DNA testing would not be accomplished for a couple of weeks, if he were lucky.
But the critter had his stomach pumped and that bad boy had certainly munched on the corpse. The cat was clean as he suspected. No rabies was discovered but Langdon was not out of the woods on that threat either since raccoons can carry a number of bacterial or viral diseases. But the only evil symptom he felt at that point was a headache and a thirst from some bad whiskey.
The shrink at the hospital refused his attempt to interview Algernon. According to Dr. Koch, the suspect just kept throwing up in a pail singing I Could Have Danced All Night. The single strangest behavior Koch had seen in his fifteen years as a psychiatrist.
If you think that is strange, I have a raccoon you should meet, thought Langdon.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
NORTHCOVII: The Pink Slip
Miniature horses and foals
Algie would feel soooooooooooo free at times like this. The pink and lavender ensemble was so perrrrrrrrfect.
The stereo was blaring:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bwy1x0-cZaI
The silk panties were 'form' fitting. Hard to find things like this in a department stores; but he discovered them on ebay, of all places. Oh and the lingerie. Just gorgeous. And the make-up was just ideal for the occasion and made his skin feel sooooooooo soft but maintained the general lines of his face that showed beauty but strength at the same time. HARD TO TOP THAT. And it enhanced the effect of his moustache.
And Tommy is just going to love the entire picture. Algie fixed himself a drink and then...put it aside. Do not want to get the engine running to quickly. Spoil the warm up, he thought.
This was his dance room. A beautiful portrait of Barbara and Marilyn on opposing walls. Vases filled with flowers, and the aroma was ...ooops, damn. And these heels were perfect.
Algie had felt the left heel go out and he immediately sat down to fix it. Just then the door....damn!!!
He dumped the other shoe and went to answer the door.
Frank finished interviewing Thomas. This clown bullshit was getting to him.
As part of his leftist conspiracy rant, Thomas was positing that NORTHCO had been experimenting with biogenic weaponry. That its purpose, and the new purpose of the government was to.....blah, blah blah blah blah.
What is really fascinating here is that Thomas has never received The Pink Slip. As a matter of fact, no one has ever been fired from NORTHCO. Even on Frank's recommendation although Frank was really not into that pink slip scene very often.
I mean NORTHCO had been around at least two years before Frank had ever begun employment.
Why a right wing nut would wish to tie the current situation to Obama was beyond him. But Frank assumed something was going on in the basement facility and he knew it had something to do with the DOD.
Thomas had brought Frank an envelope marked TOP SECRET. Frank immediately stored the materials in his brief case after he left.
Jenny came in.
A Dr. Kevin is on line three Frank.
Thanks Jenny.
Yeah Kev. How's it goin?
I really do not know Frank. I mean I got the results back from Minneapolis. And I really do not know what to tell you.
Kev. Stay right there and hang up. I will get right back to you.
Frank hung up and left the office for 'a walk'. Jenny asked if there was anything wrong and Frank smile and said he just needed some fresh air after talking with Thomas. That was quite understandable to Jenny of course.
Jenny thought, thank god Thomas never hit on her.
Okay Kev, I just wanted to get on my private cell.
Understandable Frank. As I was saying, I do not know what to tell you. I received the results and they seem quite normal. Quite normal for a twenty-five year old that is. I mean blood pressure, and everything else checked out tops comparing the results to standards set by the AMA. But your cholesterol is way down, your red and white blood counts are superb, really.
Well that's good, is it not Kev?
Well yeah, but, I mean you never worked out, you drink like a fish--no offense buddy-and you never have abstained from smoking. I mean I took x-rays, not an MRI, but you look clean. When I looked down your throat and into your ears, I mean everything was pink and healthy.
Kev, are you asking me out on a date or just commiserating?
Back to the out of town tests Frank. We found strange fluids on your clothes. Semen, blood, and this strange web like substance. Your friend of course did the tests on the clothes but sent me the results as you requested.
Semen. I have been a monk for fifteen months Kev. No fuckin way. Goddamn, I told you I blocked out or blacked out for three or four days. What the hell happened to me anyway?
Frank. I am just the messenger, remember. Listen, I asked for further tests from both labs. I want genetic tests performed. Anyway, you can feel free to call me anytime. You know that. Now calm down. FOR CHRISSAKES I JUST INFORMED YOU THAT YOU HAVE THE BODY OF A TWENTY FIVE YEAR OLD. Enjoy it. I would.
With that the two said their good byes and Frank finished up at the office and went home a couple hours early.
And you know, I really have felt rather frisky lately. I mean Jenny looks good for chrissakes, thought Frank as he got into his car.
Frank got home and ended up at the PC with a drink and a smoke. He went back on line and picked up the obvious:
In the case of dwarfism one of the two following systems could (possibly) be at work in its development in the Miniature horse.
1- Autosomal recessive trait--Both parents pass on a recessive gene and the trait is expressed in the offspring.
2-Autosomal dominant trait--One (or both) parents pass on a dominant gene and the trait shows up in the offspring. The trait would have to be expressed in one of the parents or could be [caused by a new mutation (Crandall and Crosson 1993)]
There are over 200 variations of dwarfism characteristics which have been cataloged and well described in humans alone. Most of the human dwarfism characteristics have been proven to be genetic in nature. In the dwarfed miniatures, most of these characteristics are recessively inherited (both the sire and the dam appeared to have normal conformation). Many of the scientifically identified characteristics have been researched individually (Bowling 1996).
http://www.mini-horse.org/dwarf_horse_genes.html
Oh really? Is that not interesting? I mean dwarfs appear to reproduce more dwarfs and Norwegians appear to reproduce more Norwegians.
But Dwarfism, as it seems to be called is an anomaly (as if teeny horses and such are not anomalies!!!) Miniaturization is not such an anomaly.
Also, I do not know of a human genetic dwarf disease that does not show signs until later as a result of older age, there are over 200 types of human dwarfisms though I will have to see. As for these seen in Minis, these are NOT due to age or environment as a sporadic result. They are due to genetic mutations that have been inherited over time thru generations.
Also, you do not get part of a dwarf gene and therefore are less of a dwarf. It is all there or not. And if you are a dwarf you have two copies of the recessive dwarf gene, not some of the gene but all of it. What does occur is Penetrance and Expressivity.
These genetic terms explain how dominant and recessive genes interact within an individual. What you might think is a minimal dwarf is actuallty (sic) a heterozygote mini just the dominant normal gene is being "overpowered" by the recessive dwarf gene."
So there is some difference between being a dwarf and being small. I am getting nowhere on this so far. Frank thought it was time to hit the beer. Scotch would just send him down too quickly even though he was ready for bed anyway. Are those little people 'dwarfs' or is it dwarves?
Bio-hazards. How about that?
Like nuclear waste, genetic changes in ecosystems will threaten environmental and human health for generations. The true impacts of the introduction of new species may not be understood for generations, if understood at all, and the negative effects will amplify over time.
As with nuclear waste disposal, the assumption is made that science can solve any environmental problems that genetic engineering may present and that, though our knowledge is incomplete right now, all we need is more information to make genetic engineering safe.
As with most unproven technologies that translate into huge corporate profits but carry environmental and human health risks, the ecological costs are understated and are calculated as inevitable costs of economic progress.
Much like the effects of pesticides, the impacts of "genetic pollution" on the environment and human health will not be easily traced back to their source.
Some Key Questions
There are a number of important questions that need to be asked about genetic engineering. These include the following:
* Is genetic engineering socially useful? Will the benefits that are promised materialize? More importantly, do these benefits meet the needs of farmers and society at large?
* Has there been democratic deliberation over the introduction of these new technologies? Who is making the decision to release genetically engineered organisms into the environment?
* What resources are being spent on the research, development and commercialization of genetic engineering that could be spent on the development of sustainable agriculture practices? What problems are genetically engineered products manufactured to solve?
Conclusion
Genetic engineering threatens the environment in ways never before imagined and endangers the livelihoods of small farmers across the world. Genetic engineering claims ownership over living organisms. It is for these reasons that there is intensifying global resistance to the patenting of life and the dangerous applications of this technology.
http://www.mindfully.org/GE/Genetic-Engineering-Biohazard-Introduction.htm
What is interesting about this Frank thought, was that this was not about radiation poisoning, like those old black and white movies where giant spiders are born from nuclear tests in the Southwestern U.S.
This is merely a metaphor. We do not understand the consequences of burying our Nuclear Waste. And we do not understand that every single time we put something new into the environment, the consequences are monumental, or at least can become monumental.
Everything went dark. Frank was unconscious on the floor by his desk.
Algie would feel soooooooooooo free at times like this. The pink and lavender ensemble was so perrrrrrrrfect.
The stereo was blaring:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bwy1x0-cZaI
The silk panties were 'form' fitting. Hard to find things like this in a department stores; but he discovered them on ebay, of all places. Oh and the lingerie. Just gorgeous. And the make-up was just ideal for the occasion and made his skin feel sooooooooo soft but maintained the general lines of his face that showed beauty but strength at the same time. HARD TO TOP THAT. And it enhanced the effect of his moustache.
And Tommy is just going to love the entire picture. Algie fixed himself a drink and then...put it aside. Do not want to get the engine running to quickly. Spoil the warm up, he thought.
This was his dance room. A beautiful portrait of Barbara and Marilyn on opposing walls. Vases filled with flowers, and the aroma was ...ooops, damn. And these heels were perfect.
Algie had felt the left heel go out and he immediately sat down to fix it. Just then the door....damn!!!
He dumped the other shoe and went to answer the door.
Frank finished interviewing Thomas. This clown bullshit was getting to him.
As part of his leftist conspiracy rant, Thomas was positing that NORTHCO had been experimenting with biogenic weaponry. That its purpose, and the new purpose of the government was to.....blah, blah blah blah blah.
What is really fascinating here is that Thomas has never received The Pink Slip. As a matter of fact, no one has ever been fired from NORTHCO. Even on Frank's recommendation although Frank was really not into that pink slip scene very often.
I mean NORTHCO had been around at least two years before Frank had ever begun employment.
Why a right wing nut would wish to tie the current situation to Obama was beyond him. But Frank assumed something was going on in the basement facility and he knew it had something to do with the DOD.
Thomas had brought Frank an envelope marked TOP SECRET. Frank immediately stored the materials in his brief case after he left.
Jenny came in.
A Dr. Kevin is on line three Frank.
Thanks Jenny.
Yeah Kev. How's it goin?
I really do not know Frank. I mean I got the results back from Minneapolis. And I really do not know what to tell you.
Kev. Stay right there and hang up. I will get right back to you.
Frank hung up and left the office for 'a walk'. Jenny asked if there was anything wrong and Frank smile and said he just needed some fresh air after talking with Thomas. That was quite understandable to Jenny of course.
Jenny thought, thank god Thomas never hit on her.
Okay Kev, I just wanted to get on my private cell.
Understandable Frank. As I was saying, I do not know what to tell you. I received the results and they seem quite normal. Quite normal for a twenty-five year old that is. I mean blood pressure, and everything else checked out tops comparing the results to standards set by the AMA. But your cholesterol is way down, your red and white blood counts are superb, really.
Well that's good, is it not Kev?
Well yeah, but, I mean you never worked out, you drink like a fish--no offense buddy-and you never have abstained from smoking. I mean I took x-rays, not an MRI, but you look clean. When I looked down your throat and into your ears, I mean everything was pink and healthy.
Kev, are you asking me out on a date or just commiserating?
Back to the out of town tests Frank. We found strange fluids on your clothes. Semen, blood, and this strange web like substance. Your friend of course did the tests on the clothes but sent me the results as you requested.
Semen. I have been a monk for fifteen months Kev. No fuckin way. Goddamn, I told you I blocked out or blacked out for three or four days. What the hell happened to me anyway?
Frank. I am just the messenger, remember. Listen, I asked for further tests from both labs. I want genetic tests performed. Anyway, you can feel free to call me anytime. You know that. Now calm down. FOR CHRISSAKES I JUST INFORMED YOU THAT YOU HAVE THE BODY OF A TWENTY FIVE YEAR OLD. Enjoy it. I would.
With that the two said their good byes and Frank finished up at the office and went home a couple hours early.
And you know, I really have felt rather frisky lately. I mean Jenny looks good for chrissakes, thought Frank as he got into his car.
Frank got home and ended up at the PC with a drink and a smoke. He went back on line and picked up the obvious:
In the case of dwarfism one of the two following systems could (possibly) be at work in its development in the Miniature horse.
1- Autosomal recessive trait--Both parents pass on a recessive gene and the trait is expressed in the offspring.
2-Autosomal dominant trait--One (or both) parents pass on a dominant gene and the trait shows up in the offspring. The trait would have to be expressed in one of the parents or could be [caused by a new mutation (Crandall and Crosson 1993)]
There are over 200 variations of dwarfism characteristics which have been cataloged and well described in humans alone. Most of the human dwarfism characteristics have been proven to be genetic in nature. In the dwarfed miniatures, most of these characteristics are recessively inherited (both the sire and the dam appeared to have normal conformation). Many of the scientifically identified characteristics have been researched individually (Bowling 1996).
http://www.mini-horse.org/dwarf_horse_genes.html
Oh really? Is that not interesting? I mean dwarfs appear to reproduce more dwarfs and Norwegians appear to reproduce more Norwegians.
But Dwarfism, as it seems to be called is an anomaly (as if teeny horses and such are not anomalies!!!) Miniaturization is not such an anomaly.
Also, I do not know of a human genetic dwarf disease that does not show signs until later as a result of older age, there are over 200 types of human dwarfisms though I will have to see. As for these seen in Minis, these are NOT due to age or environment as a sporadic result. They are due to genetic mutations that have been inherited over time thru generations.
Also, you do not get part of a dwarf gene and therefore are less of a dwarf. It is all there or not. And if you are a dwarf you have two copies of the recessive dwarf gene, not some of the gene but all of it. What does occur is Penetrance and Expressivity.
These genetic terms explain how dominant and recessive genes interact within an individual. What you might think is a minimal dwarf is actuallty (sic) a heterozygote mini just the dominant normal gene is being "overpowered" by the recessive dwarf gene."
So there is some difference between being a dwarf and being small. I am getting nowhere on this so far. Frank thought it was time to hit the beer. Scotch would just send him down too quickly even though he was ready for bed anyway. Are those little people 'dwarfs' or is it dwarves?
Bio-hazards. How about that?
Like nuclear waste, genetic changes in ecosystems will threaten environmental and human health for generations. The true impacts of the introduction of new species may not be understood for generations, if understood at all, and the negative effects will amplify over time.
As with nuclear waste disposal, the assumption is made that science can solve any environmental problems that genetic engineering may present and that, though our knowledge is incomplete right now, all we need is more information to make genetic engineering safe.
As with most unproven technologies that translate into huge corporate profits but carry environmental and human health risks, the ecological costs are understated and are calculated as inevitable costs of economic progress.
Much like the effects of pesticides, the impacts of "genetic pollution" on the environment and human health will not be easily traced back to their source.
Some Key Questions
There are a number of important questions that need to be asked about genetic engineering. These include the following:
* Is genetic engineering socially useful? Will the benefits that are promised materialize? More importantly, do these benefits meet the needs of farmers and society at large?
* Has there been democratic deliberation over the introduction of these new technologies? Who is making the decision to release genetically engineered organisms into the environment?
* What resources are being spent on the research, development and commercialization of genetic engineering that could be spent on the development of sustainable agriculture practices? What problems are genetically engineered products manufactured to solve?
Conclusion
Genetic engineering threatens the environment in ways never before imagined and endangers the livelihoods of small farmers across the world. Genetic engineering claims ownership over living organisms. It is for these reasons that there is intensifying global resistance to the patenting of life and the dangerous applications of this technology.
http://www.mindfully.org/GE/Genetic-Engineering-Biohazard-Introduction.htm
What is interesting about this Frank thought, was that this was not about radiation poisoning, like those old black and white movies where giant spiders are born from nuclear tests in the Southwestern U.S.
This is merely a metaphor. We do not understand the consequences of burying our Nuclear Waste. And we do not understand that every single time we put something new into the environment, the consequences are monumental, or at least can become monumental.
Everything went dark. Frank was unconscious on the floor by his desk.
NORTHCOSEX: Gloucester Cathedral
Gloucester Cathedral Gloucester Cathedral - 2004-11-02.jpg The western end of the cathedral
Frank greeted Sean and Bernice from accounting at the same time. Along with that damn mutt. (shivers) Frank sat his guests down. Bernice of all people wanted a matini as Sean smiled at his Henikin. Spanky was fixed up with his bowls.
So Spanky speaks Sean?
It is Sparky Frank, but yeah, I mean you got to hear this, said Sean pulling a tape from his sports coat. Without prompting, Sean put it in the cassette in Frank's EC and turned it on.
...
There is not much there Sean.
God Frank, I heard it. Hell I told you I played it this morning.
Shortly, after playing it thrice, the three could barely hear:
Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow
What the hell....blurted Sean.
The three discussed many things. Then Bernice, rather loose from her goose as it were, piped up.
My father used to tell us a story about an artesian in the twelfth century. Hans Lugerman was his name. Hans had grown up in a tradesman home. One of six that survived the plague, one of the many plagues in Hamburg. The entire family moved to Goucester because of that plague. A cousin from the central English city send for them since they both belonged to sister guilds.
The city had been 'founded' in the first century and by 681 a Roman Catholic abbey had been built. It was on that spot that the great Gloucester Cathedral and that is where Hans was enrolled to work with his boys in the ornamental guild on that cathedral.
In those days of old it took centuries to build a great cathedral throughout Europe. Gloucester began as Norman architecturally and ended up Gothic. That is how long it took to build this structure. Some three hundred years of construction and to this day the maintenance might as well be titled construction.
Cousin Francis brought Hans into this ornamental guild around 1150 A.D. Generation after generation worked on the cathedral. Guilds were sacred in those days, recognized by the aristocracy as well as the Church. Blood in those days counted as much for the tradesmen as the dukes and earls for heavens sakes.
Specifically, Hans was to work on door knobs of all things as well as an ornament seen all over the outside of the church called 'ball flowers'. All day, every day, except Sundays, the family would work for the guild carefully crafting the ball flowers and the door knobs of this magnificent edifice.
Ah Bernice, we were going to....
No no Bernice, go on, said Frank, all of a sudden interested in this Hans character. Frank might have ended up with an accounting degree prior to his MBA but he had a minor in Literature of the Middle Ages and he was sick of being so consumed with the present 'plague' or whatever NORTHCO was perpetrating.
Sean rolled his eyes, but this Bernice was talented and he certainly did not wish to put a damper on things as they say.
In those days of yore the tiniest ornament took a long time to craft and then another tradesman from another guild would help 'lay' or install the ornament on the building. And when one of these beautiful pieces of art cracked or fell off the structure, the artistes were hard at work.
You have to understand, the scaffolding NEVER CAME DOWN. Not for three hundred years. As a matter of fact they just completed a restoration on a spire nine years ago.
But Hans had a hobby as many of these artisans did. He worked on a statue, a statue of St. Benedict. It was the Benedictines who actually 'owned' and operated the cathedral in those days. And he would secretly work on this piece of art nights and on Sundays; being very careful never to get caught.
Hans died fifteen years after coming to England and his son Hans dutifully filled his father's role in the guild. And Hans jr. continued work on that statue at the same time. The statue was truly a work of art and was finished shortly before the death of Hans jr.
The irony of this all was that two generations worked on this superb piece of art and it ended up in a little garden outside of a latrine in Bristol; in Bristol of all places, an old monastery of course for very few to see.
Frank was rapt in attention at this little speech from the chick in accounting. He knew of course the stories of the grand European Cathedrals of the Middle Ages. He knew something of the structures and the differences between Norman architecture and Gothic architecture as well as the volkeskunde adaptions.
Bernice continued. I do wonder sometimes, what is the place of the individual. I mean even Bob Dylan sings that we need to follow something or somebody. The story of the Hans' and their dedication to the Benedictines is remarkable to me(although dedication to the guild was primary). But allegiances are funny because the artisans chose St. Benedict as their hobby. They most probably knew how to read and write. I mean they had to follow plans carefully and certainly would understand the symbols on those plans much better than most modern day historians of the period.
I think I can see what you are saying Bernice, if I may be so bold. Frank gulped some more of his scotch as he continued.
We worship at the corporate edifice. Or at least we are beholden to these fictional rulers. We dedicate our entire lives to the corporate entity. A few of us will benefit from a pension of sorts if the markets hold, depending upon our point of departure. Of course we must remember that the average worker in management stays at one corporation all of five years or so.
But, in the end, will we even end up leaving a piece of art outside a urinal in some sacred spot?
Bernice nodded. Exactly, she said. And now I believe that we three are joining in our own hobby, yes?
Well Bernice, I cannot speak for Frank, but there is something happening here and only a few know what that is. I mean there are strange creatures, creatures made strange by something in the air; or something in the water; or something in the ground we stand upon.
Bernice, what do you know about Vegas? Interjected Frank.
Well, we have been there since 2005 at the least. I am not sure how long we were there before then. We might have purchased some company that had been in the same line of business-whatever line that may be. But there is no evidence of any income or outflow until May of 2005. I also discovered that shortly after May of that year, the Vice President actually visited the facility. For whatever reason is beyond me but a whole lot of money came in shortly after that from three different government agencies.
I also know that we have 1400 or so employees there, about the same as we have here and the building looks EXACTLY LIKE OURS. I found that out quite accidentally when Sphincter handed me the wrong file one day; a file that contained building plans and even pictures of the finished product. And the name of the manager of the entire facility? Sphincter.
Say what, Sean blurted out.
Yeah, Sphincter.
Well what's his first name?
Are you kidding me? What is the first name of our Spincter, anyway?
All three burst out into laughter at that one. Ha
Just then Sparky spoke up:
Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow
Well whatever the translation, I need to let him out. So Sean went to the door and opened it as Sparky rant outside. After completing his business, Sparky came back in and sat on the floor right by Frank; much to his chagrin. And speaking of chagrin, Spanky has the weirdest grin, thought Frank.
The trio, led and mediated by Frank for the most part, hit upon a plan.
Bernice would continue in her attempt to procure files from Sphincter. And she would keep an extra eye on figures that might shed some light upon what was what at NORTHCO; which was about how specific this entire 'investigation' entailed; at least at this point.
Sean was going to hit Algie a little harder, with the other two conspirators' full understanding that Algie kind of traveled between two universes and it was important to get to him when he was in their reality.
Frank was going to work as best he could gathering information from the second floor operations and see what he could get by way of records from the evil Thomas.
The three decided upon a song with their last drink of the evening:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_dT70sbyP8 Winchester Cathedral.
Sean and Bernice moseyed over to Sean's in order to play house. Sparky had no leash, and it had been that way for two weeks now. There just was no reason for it. There had been a light snow that had stuck around and when they got to Sean's place and approached the door, Bernice noted little foot prints that appeared to approach the front door and then veered right. She quickly moved to the left, following the small prints in the snow until she saw that they ended on the left or east side of the home. There was a small basement window where the steps stopped but there was no immediate sign of entry through the window.
Bernice rushed back and informed Sean. The three mammals entered the house and Sean, after switching on the lights, ran downstairs to the basement and checked the windows; all the windows. No evidence of entry, but there were marks on the dust at the one window in the southeast corner.
Sean came up and informed Bernice of his findings telling her everything was okay, but he was panting some just the same. The two humans circumnavigated the house finding nothing. Sparky's dish was upside down, but that proved nothing. On the other hand, the overturned dish certainly did not alleviate any of their trepidation.
After relaxing with a doobie and a beer, the two took out their anxiety in...well they kind of relieved each other and fell into a fast sleep.
Sean awoke in a start. What the hell is that? He thought as he got out of bed and kind of 'snuck' into the living room. He actually lingered at the threshold of the living room from the kitchen and his heart began racing and his breathing was much troubled.
There were three of the midget clowns, with the stereo playing some carnie music, playing ball games with Sparky. They were tossing around a ball. Sparky was hitting it in the air with his nose.
He looked down, my god I have pissed my own pants!
Sean awoke in a sweat. A dream. Holy clown suits!!! Quickly he 'checked' and confirmed that he had not wet himself during the night. Bernice from accounting was still by his side.
Since the sun was about to rise with rosy fingered dawn's introduction, he got up and out to the kitchen fixing his juice and coffee. He took a peak into the living room and...there was a bright orange ball in the middle of the goddamn floor. Sean blessed himself with a trembling hand, shaking his head. My good lord, why hast thou forsaken me?
Frank awoke soakin wet. What the f...........? He jumped out of bed and ran to the shower. Coming from the shower he stripped the bed. The colors of the sheets were off, somehow. He tossed them into the hamper. Sara the cleaning lady was coming this pm from the service. He opened the window a crack. Even with a high of 42, it was not going to be that bad. He sprayed the mattress with lilac scented whatever and went to the kitchen.
In his robe he fixed coffee and had a shot of orange juice. Maybe he has the 'bug', he mused. The though always made him smile. His mother had been an abject alcoholic and would constantly complain that she had the 'bug'. Like it was some plague on her house.
By the time he was dressed and out the door Frank was 'reved up' and ready to kill, as they say. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
Say what!!! Frank went to the door, no one was there. He relocked the door and went to his car through the kitchen into the garage. He stepped right on the bicycle sitting between him and his car.
What the hell is that doing there? He kicked it over to the side and felt a pain in his right foot.
Damn!!
As he pulled out of the driveway, he noticed something strange. As if his morning had not been strange enough. There was a puddle of water created by melting snow. He could swear it glowed blue.
Frank arrived at the office rather calmly, listening to a little Marshall Tucker. On his desk was a message from Dr. Kevin. He stuffed it in his pocket and decided to return the call on his 'private' cell at lunch when he was slated for a walk.
Jenny knocked and entered. Thomas is here Frank.
Oh hi Thomas. How are you today?
After the door closed, Thomas sat down and looked around. Like he was making sure that it was just he and Frank.
There is a conspiracy going on here with NORTHCO and the liberal/socialist agendists Frank. I am sure of it. Listen...
I am not sure I am in the mood for this right now Thomas, I....
LISTEN TO ME FRANK!! Even Thomas was surprised at his outburst, but he continued none the less.
You know I am in residence on the opposite end of the Project?
Sure Tom, everybody knows you live with your mother...but...
Well, I could not sleep and so I took the garbage out and there were these midget clowns in the front yard. Jumping and laughing and as soon as I close the door, they scampered away.
This was interesting, thought Frank. I mean Tom is a right wing nut but it is all a matter of perspective. I mean what do I care what his politics are. I mean I just want to know the facts.
And Frank noticed something else about Tom that he had not noticed before. Tom's left eye was greenish in color while the other was dark brown.
Frank greeted Sean and Bernice from accounting at the same time. Along with that damn mutt. (shivers) Frank sat his guests down. Bernice of all people wanted a matini as Sean smiled at his Henikin. Spanky was fixed up with his bowls.
So Spanky speaks Sean?
It is Sparky Frank, but yeah, I mean you got to hear this, said Sean pulling a tape from his sports coat. Without prompting, Sean put it in the cassette in Frank's EC and turned it on.
...
There is not much there Sean.
God Frank, I heard it. Hell I told you I played it this morning.
Shortly, after playing it thrice, the three could barely hear:
Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow
What the hell....blurted Sean.
The three discussed many things. Then Bernice, rather loose from her goose as it were, piped up.
My father used to tell us a story about an artesian in the twelfth century. Hans Lugerman was his name. Hans had grown up in a tradesman home. One of six that survived the plague, one of the many plagues in Hamburg. The entire family moved to Goucester because of that plague. A cousin from the central English city send for them since they both belonged to sister guilds.
The city had been 'founded' in the first century and by 681 a Roman Catholic abbey had been built. It was on that spot that the great Gloucester Cathedral and that is where Hans was enrolled to work with his boys in the ornamental guild on that cathedral.
In those days of old it took centuries to build a great cathedral throughout Europe. Gloucester began as Norman architecturally and ended up Gothic. That is how long it took to build this structure. Some three hundred years of construction and to this day the maintenance might as well be titled construction.
Cousin Francis brought Hans into this ornamental guild around 1150 A.D. Generation after generation worked on the cathedral. Guilds were sacred in those days, recognized by the aristocracy as well as the Church. Blood in those days counted as much for the tradesmen as the dukes and earls for heavens sakes.
Specifically, Hans was to work on door knobs of all things as well as an ornament seen all over the outside of the church called 'ball flowers'. All day, every day, except Sundays, the family would work for the guild carefully crafting the ball flowers and the door knobs of this magnificent edifice.
Ah Bernice, we were going to....
No no Bernice, go on, said Frank, all of a sudden interested in this Hans character. Frank might have ended up with an accounting degree prior to his MBA but he had a minor in Literature of the Middle Ages and he was sick of being so consumed with the present 'plague' or whatever NORTHCO was perpetrating.
Sean rolled his eyes, but this Bernice was talented and he certainly did not wish to put a damper on things as they say.
In those days of yore the tiniest ornament took a long time to craft and then another tradesman from another guild would help 'lay' or install the ornament on the building. And when one of these beautiful pieces of art cracked or fell off the structure, the artistes were hard at work.
You have to understand, the scaffolding NEVER CAME DOWN. Not for three hundred years. As a matter of fact they just completed a restoration on a spire nine years ago.
But Hans had a hobby as many of these artisans did. He worked on a statue, a statue of St. Benedict. It was the Benedictines who actually 'owned' and operated the cathedral in those days. And he would secretly work on this piece of art nights and on Sundays; being very careful never to get caught.
Hans died fifteen years after coming to England and his son Hans dutifully filled his father's role in the guild. And Hans jr. continued work on that statue at the same time. The statue was truly a work of art and was finished shortly before the death of Hans jr.
The irony of this all was that two generations worked on this superb piece of art and it ended up in a little garden outside of a latrine in Bristol; in Bristol of all places, an old monastery of course for very few to see.
Frank was rapt in attention at this little speech from the chick in accounting. He knew of course the stories of the grand European Cathedrals of the Middle Ages. He knew something of the structures and the differences between Norman architecture and Gothic architecture as well as the volkeskunde adaptions.
Bernice continued. I do wonder sometimes, what is the place of the individual. I mean even Bob Dylan sings that we need to follow something or somebody. The story of the Hans' and their dedication to the Benedictines is remarkable to me(although dedication to the guild was primary). But allegiances are funny because the artisans chose St. Benedict as their hobby. They most probably knew how to read and write. I mean they had to follow plans carefully and certainly would understand the symbols on those plans much better than most modern day historians of the period.
I think I can see what you are saying Bernice, if I may be so bold. Frank gulped some more of his scotch as he continued.
We worship at the corporate edifice. Or at least we are beholden to these fictional rulers. We dedicate our entire lives to the corporate entity. A few of us will benefit from a pension of sorts if the markets hold, depending upon our point of departure. Of course we must remember that the average worker in management stays at one corporation all of five years or so.
But, in the end, will we even end up leaving a piece of art outside a urinal in some sacred spot?
Bernice nodded. Exactly, she said. And now I believe that we three are joining in our own hobby, yes?
Well Bernice, I cannot speak for Frank, but there is something happening here and only a few know what that is. I mean there are strange creatures, creatures made strange by something in the air; or something in the water; or something in the ground we stand upon.
Bernice, what do you know about Vegas? Interjected Frank.
Well, we have been there since 2005 at the least. I am not sure how long we were there before then. We might have purchased some company that had been in the same line of business-whatever line that may be. But there is no evidence of any income or outflow until May of 2005. I also discovered that shortly after May of that year, the Vice President actually visited the facility. For whatever reason is beyond me but a whole lot of money came in shortly after that from three different government agencies.
I also know that we have 1400 or so employees there, about the same as we have here and the building looks EXACTLY LIKE OURS. I found that out quite accidentally when Sphincter handed me the wrong file one day; a file that contained building plans and even pictures of the finished product. And the name of the manager of the entire facility? Sphincter.
Say what, Sean blurted out.
Yeah, Sphincter.
Well what's his first name?
Are you kidding me? What is the first name of our Spincter, anyway?
All three burst out into laughter at that one. Ha
Just then Sparky spoke up:
Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow
Well whatever the translation, I need to let him out. So Sean went to the door and opened it as Sparky rant outside. After completing his business, Sparky came back in and sat on the floor right by Frank; much to his chagrin. And speaking of chagrin, Spanky has the weirdest grin, thought Frank.
The trio, led and mediated by Frank for the most part, hit upon a plan.
Bernice would continue in her attempt to procure files from Sphincter. And she would keep an extra eye on figures that might shed some light upon what was what at NORTHCO; which was about how specific this entire 'investigation' entailed; at least at this point.
Sean was going to hit Algie a little harder, with the other two conspirators' full understanding that Algie kind of traveled between two universes and it was important to get to him when he was in their reality.
Frank was going to work as best he could gathering information from the second floor operations and see what he could get by way of records from the evil Thomas.
The three decided upon a song with their last drink of the evening:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_dT70sbyP8 Winchester Cathedral.
Sean and Bernice moseyed over to Sean's in order to play house. Sparky had no leash, and it had been that way for two weeks now. There just was no reason for it. There had been a light snow that had stuck around and when they got to Sean's place and approached the door, Bernice noted little foot prints that appeared to approach the front door and then veered right. She quickly moved to the left, following the small prints in the snow until she saw that they ended on the left or east side of the home. There was a small basement window where the steps stopped but there was no immediate sign of entry through the window.
Bernice rushed back and informed Sean. The three mammals entered the house and Sean, after switching on the lights, ran downstairs to the basement and checked the windows; all the windows. No evidence of entry, but there were marks on the dust at the one window in the southeast corner.
Sean came up and informed Bernice of his findings telling her everything was okay, but he was panting some just the same. The two humans circumnavigated the house finding nothing. Sparky's dish was upside down, but that proved nothing. On the other hand, the overturned dish certainly did not alleviate any of their trepidation.
After relaxing with a doobie and a beer, the two took out their anxiety in...well they kind of relieved each other and fell into a fast sleep.
Sean awoke in a start. What the hell is that? He thought as he got out of bed and kind of 'snuck' into the living room. He actually lingered at the threshold of the living room from the kitchen and his heart began racing and his breathing was much troubled.
There were three of the midget clowns, with the stereo playing some carnie music, playing ball games with Sparky. They were tossing around a ball. Sparky was hitting it in the air with his nose.
He looked down, my god I have pissed my own pants!
Sean awoke in a sweat. A dream. Holy clown suits!!! Quickly he 'checked' and confirmed that he had not wet himself during the night. Bernice from accounting was still by his side.
Since the sun was about to rise with rosy fingered dawn's introduction, he got up and out to the kitchen fixing his juice and coffee. He took a peak into the living room and...there was a bright orange ball in the middle of the goddamn floor. Sean blessed himself with a trembling hand, shaking his head. My good lord, why hast thou forsaken me?
Frank awoke soakin wet. What the f...........? He jumped out of bed and ran to the shower. Coming from the shower he stripped the bed. The colors of the sheets were off, somehow. He tossed them into the hamper. Sara the cleaning lady was coming this pm from the service. He opened the window a crack. Even with a high of 42, it was not going to be that bad. He sprayed the mattress with lilac scented whatever and went to the kitchen.
In his robe he fixed coffee and had a shot of orange juice. Maybe he has the 'bug', he mused. The though always made him smile. His mother had been an abject alcoholic and would constantly complain that she had the 'bug'. Like it was some plague on her house.
By the time he was dressed and out the door Frank was 'reved up' and ready to kill, as they say. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
Say what!!! Frank went to the door, no one was there. He relocked the door and went to his car through the kitchen into the garage. He stepped right on the bicycle sitting between him and his car.
What the hell is that doing there? He kicked it over to the side and felt a pain in his right foot.
Damn!!
As he pulled out of the driveway, he noticed something strange. As if his morning had not been strange enough. There was a puddle of water created by melting snow. He could swear it glowed blue.
Frank arrived at the office rather calmly, listening to a little Marshall Tucker. On his desk was a message from Dr. Kevin. He stuffed it in his pocket and decided to return the call on his 'private' cell at lunch when he was slated for a walk.
Jenny knocked and entered. Thomas is here Frank.
Oh hi Thomas. How are you today?
After the door closed, Thomas sat down and looked around. Like he was making sure that it was just he and Frank.
There is a conspiracy going on here with NORTHCO and the liberal/socialist agendists Frank. I am sure of it. Listen...
I am not sure I am in the mood for this right now Thomas, I....
LISTEN TO ME FRANK!! Even Thomas was surprised at his outburst, but he continued none the less.
You know I am in residence on the opposite end of the Project?
Sure Tom, everybody knows you live with your mother...but...
Well, I could not sleep and so I took the garbage out and there were these midget clowns in the front yard. Jumping and laughing and as soon as I close the door, they scampered away.
This was interesting, thought Frank. I mean Tom is a right wing nut but it is all a matter of perspective. I mean what do I care what his politics are. I mean I just want to know the facts.
And Frank noticed something else about Tom that he had not noticed before. Tom's left eye was greenish in color while the other was dark brown.
NORTHCO CINCO
Tinker Bell (2005, bronze) by Diarmuid Byron O'Connor
Sean got home that night late but sober, more or less. Certainly the beers took the edge off but the enormity of dangers, dangers created by NORTHCO, to the area was so great. I mean danger trees and danger to other foliage and danger to critters and danger to human beings.
He checked his email and found a hello from Bernice.
What are you doing tonight? The email relayed.
Came in at 5:30PM evidently. Well, I missed a party tonight. Hahaha
He sat on the couch and pulled out a doobie he had rolled that morning after he had grabbed a last beer. He clicked on his favorite double feature:
Subway Slut & Thigh Noon.
He awoke suddenly from his sofa paradise. There was someone calling to him:
I need to go out now.
What?
I need to go out NOW!!!
Sparky, glowing in the night light was standing on all fours in front of him.
Okay.........Slowly Sean removed himself from the couch and went to the front door and opened it up for Sparky's easy exit.
OPEN WIDE FOR SPARKY, Sean sang.
He waited by the open door until the mutt performed his duties, welcomed him back in, shut the door and moved into the bedroom.
Did that dog just speak to me? Sean drifted into a deep sleep.
Frank awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. He ran into the bathroom and let loose. After finishing his duties he took a look as was his practice before flushing. IT GLOWED.
NOW THERE IS SOME HOLY SHITE!!!!
Frank's breathing became difficult, he was gasping for air and he began to perspire profusely. Then he began writhing in pain issuing from his gut.
MY GOD I AM GOING TO DIE!!!
Frank awoke, it was morning.
Another terrible dream. I got to get some sedatives or something. What in the hell is going on, Frank thought as went into the bathroom to 'check things out'.
Frank arrived at work an hour early. He was kind of relieved that his office was still there. Thank God Sean had been running things for the last ten day. He had half of the normal stack of mail he would have received over the vacation days.
Well let's do it, he thought. He went through the normal reports from accounting and personnel and procurement. Frank quickly dictated everything. It was kind of neat. His dictation went right into the office computer and he could see what he had been saying. Jenny's job was simply to 'polish' everything.
He was old fashioned enough that he liked to sign hard copies for the file. That way there was a paper trail. He instructed Jenny that everything had to go by Sean first, since he did not wish to countermand some order by his subordinate which would only underline the mess he most probably created by his impromptu absence.
As he was finishing up this onerous task, he found a package from the Federal EPA marked 'confidential'. It was thick and all Frank thought was 'oh oh'. It had not been opened and ...there was no post mark on the damn thing. What the hell? He opened it carefully after looking around. It was 9:00 o'clock already and he was not sure he wanted anyone to see this package. He stepped over to the window overseeing the office and shut the blinds.
There was a cover letter inside the package written in ink of all things:
Mr. Frank Stanton:
We greet you from the Underground EPA. We advise that you not share this with any of your co-horts at NORTHCO at this time.
We know what you have been doing. And we are watching you closely.
We enclose pictures of flora and fauna in your area as well as five other areas across the country. You should notice a pattern...
As he reviewed the correspondence he glanced at the pictures referenced.
That's enough of that Frank thought. He bundled it all up again into the envelope and tossed it in his brief case. This looks like homework to me.
He called Jenny in.
Jenny, I am sorry for the extra work. Do what you can with my correspondence.
All ready began the set up Frank. Don't worry.
Okay. Thanks Jenny. See if you can get Bernice from accounting in here and Sean. Sean should be first. Then get Tom. That should keep me busy for the rest of the morning.
Jenny left and five minutes later Sean entered. Sean carefully shut the door behind him.
You all together today Frank?
Horrible nightmares Sean but I was surprisingly rested when I came to at your place. I have heard that people who have had seizures have a kind of rested composure after they awaken. At any rate, I just received a semi-anonymous package today from a government office, believe it or not. Can you drop by to go over it tonight?
For sure.
Now Sean as far as the office stuff, I can see you did a lot of work because my mail was half what it normally would be. And I thank you for that.
You are welcome.
I dictated memos and letters and Jenny will get them to you to review before they go out. Just make any changes you wish and get them back to her. Okay?
Yes; of course. Say I thought I had my own nightmare last night. But it turned out not to be a nightmare. Sparky spoke to me last night.
Are you sure you were not dreaming Sean?
I was sure I had been dreaming until I noticed my entertainment center was still on. I had hit record on a permanent set up I have in there. It records all sounds coming into the room. I did it for a number of reasons, one which is nefarious in nature.
Frank rolled his eyes, as if he could not guess. Dogs do not have the proper larynx for this, do they?
You ever see those videos on TV, Frank? I did not say that Sparky sounded like Ronald Coleman or anything. But Sparky made himself clear. At least clear to me.
But there was the recording this morning. I will bring it by tonight.
Good. Better stay off this subject. Do you see Alernon today?
He is supposed to show up at noon. We shall see.
Thanks Sean. So far it is just you and me...and Sparky I spose.
Sean chuckled and left.
He pulled out the reports from Bernice in accounting.
Oh, why here it is. 40% of the income for last month came from the Government including DOD. But what the report does not say and cannot say is that another 38% came from contractors WHO GET ALL THEIR GODDAMN MONEY FROM THE GOVERNMENT.
And this was all 'worked out'. NORTHCO had its own 'constituency in government'. NORTHCO had been allotted too much money according to the dems, since they had no idea even what NORTHCO actually did but the repubs managed to get the monies they want to the corporations they want by filtering monies through other contractors.
But Frank could not get a grasp on what these monies were being used for. As far as the info he gleaned from his personal computer, there was no heading of armaments involved here. But what does he know?
Something clicked, he went back to the brief case and took out the three page letter:
There are at least five areas where the results seen on the enclosed pictures are demonstrated.
North NY State, Buffalo area
Eastern South Dakota
Western suburbs of Atlanta Georgia.
Salem Oregon
Las Vegas
Holy shite. There it is. NORTHCO has offices in four places that he knows of and they are all listed here. Las Vegas though; I wonder.
There was a knock at the door of Frank's office; he quickly tucked the letter into his suit coat and responded:
Enter.
It was Bernice from accounting. Hi Frank. I assume you have the reports so I just grabbed a bunch of completed forms here.
Oh come in Bernice. It's all ok. I assure you. There are just a few questions I have and I thought maybe you might have an answer.
Sure Frank.
Is there...Does NORTHCO have an office in Vegas?
Uh...Bernice was wondering if Frank had clearance for this information. After all she received the information about Vegas in the strictest confidence. But Bernice had been bothered by a number of things lately...like her hands glowing, actually GLOWING at times. And Sean had mentioned off handedly that Frank was helping him with his dog.
Frank, I have to speak frankly with you but I am afraid.
Frank rose up from his chair and walked around his desk to shut the door. He normally did not shut the door in his office when a woman was alone with him, but he needed some information.
Well. I can promise confidentiality. I am not going to pretend you are getting much more than a promise from me, but I do not think you have cause to believe that I will cross you on this. It is up to you, but you can sure save me some time if I can get some simple answers anyway.
We have had an office in Vegas for three years. Bernice blurted it out like a preschooler caught in the school yard throwing dog poop at Billy Thorton... But I digress.
What exactly do we do there?
Frank, I do not even know what we do here.
God, I thought I was the only one, responded Frank.
What information are you privy to concerning the Vegas operation Bernice?
We should not talk about this here Frank.
You are right. Listen, another friend whom I trust here is coming over to my place about six. Could you make it.? I will order Chinese or something.
Love to. I have wanted to speak to somebody about these 'matters' for a long time.
But we keep this between us, right Bernice?
She nodded. Bernice was going to ask who the other 'friend' was but she had an idea it was Sean. And maybe she could work out something with him after the 'meet' so to speak. She had no idea why, but she was soooooooooo horny lately. Then she thought about the neon affect on her hands. I wonder if these things are related?
Sean got home that night late but sober, more or less. Certainly the beers took the edge off but the enormity of dangers, dangers created by NORTHCO, to the area was so great. I mean danger trees and danger to other foliage and danger to critters and danger to human beings.
He checked his email and found a hello from Bernice.
What are you doing tonight? The email relayed.
Came in at 5:30PM evidently. Well, I missed a party tonight. Hahaha
He sat on the couch and pulled out a doobie he had rolled that morning after he had grabbed a last beer. He clicked on his favorite double feature:
Subway Slut & Thigh Noon.
He awoke suddenly from his sofa paradise. There was someone calling to him:
I need to go out now.
What?
I need to go out NOW!!!
Sparky, glowing in the night light was standing on all fours in front of him.
Okay.........Slowly Sean removed himself from the couch and went to the front door and opened it up for Sparky's easy exit.
OPEN WIDE FOR SPARKY, Sean sang.
He waited by the open door until the mutt performed his duties, welcomed him back in, shut the door and moved into the bedroom.
Did that dog just speak to me? Sean drifted into a deep sleep.
Frank awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. He ran into the bathroom and let loose. After finishing his duties he took a look as was his practice before flushing. IT GLOWED.
NOW THERE IS SOME HOLY SHITE!!!!
Frank's breathing became difficult, he was gasping for air and he began to perspire profusely. Then he began writhing in pain issuing from his gut.
MY GOD I AM GOING TO DIE!!!
Frank awoke, it was morning.
Another terrible dream. I got to get some sedatives or something. What in the hell is going on, Frank thought as went into the bathroom to 'check things out'.
Frank arrived at work an hour early. He was kind of relieved that his office was still there. Thank God Sean had been running things for the last ten day. He had half of the normal stack of mail he would have received over the vacation days.
Well let's do it, he thought. He went through the normal reports from accounting and personnel and procurement. Frank quickly dictated everything. It was kind of neat. His dictation went right into the office computer and he could see what he had been saying. Jenny's job was simply to 'polish' everything.
He was old fashioned enough that he liked to sign hard copies for the file. That way there was a paper trail. He instructed Jenny that everything had to go by Sean first, since he did not wish to countermand some order by his subordinate which would only underline the mess he most probably created by his impromptu absence.
As he was finishing up this onerous task, he found a package from the Federal EPA marked 'confidential'. It was thick and all Frank thought was 'oh oh'. It had not been opened and ...there was no post mark on the damn thing. What the hell? He opened it carefully after looking around. It was 9:00 o'clock already and he was not sure he wanted anyone to see this package. He stepped over to the window overseeing the office and shut the blinds.
There was a cover letter inside the package written in ink of all things:
Mr. Frank Stanton:
We greet you from the Underground EPA. We advise that you not share this with any of your co-horts at NORTHCO at this time.
We know what you have been doing. And we are watching you closely.
We enclose pictures of flora and fauna in your area as well as five other areas across the country. You should notice a pattern...
As he reviewed the correspondence he glanced at the pictures referenced.
That's enough of that Frank thought. He bundled it all up again into the envelope and tossed it in his brief case. This looks like homework to me.
He called Jenny in.
Jenny, I am sorry for the extra work. Do what you can with my correspondence.
All ready began the set up Frank. Don't worry.
Okay. Thanks Jenny. See if you can get Bernice from accounting in here and Sean. Sean should be first. Then get Tom. That should keep me busy for the rest of the morning.
Jenny left and five minutes later Sean entered. Sean carefully shut the door behind him.
You all together today Frank?
Horrible nightmares Sean but I was surprisingly rested when I came to at your place. I have heard that people who have had seizures have a kind of rested composure after they awaken. At any rate, I just received a semi-anonymous package today from a government office, believe it or not. Can you drop by to go over it tonight?
For sure.
Now Sean as far as the office stuff, I can see you did a lot of work because my mail was half what it normally would be. And I thank you for that.
You are welcome.
I dictated memos and letters and Jenny will get them to you to review before they go out. Just make any changes you wish and get them back to her. Okay?
Yes; of course. Say I thought I had my own nightmare last night. But it turned out not to be a nightmare. Sparky spoke to me last night.
Are you sure you were not dreaming Sean?
I was sure I had been dreaming until I noticed my entertainment center was still on. I had hit record on a permanent set up I have in there. It records all sounds coming into the room. I did it for a number of reasons, one which is nefarious in nature.
Frank rolled his eyes, as if he could not guess. Dogs do not have the proper larynx for this, do they?
You ever see those videos on TV, Frank? I did not say that Sparky sounded like Ronald Coleman or anything. But Sparky made himself clear. At least clear to me.
But there was the recording this morning. I will bring it by tonight.
Good. Better stay off this subject. Do you see Alernon today?
He is supposed to show up at noon. We shall see.
Thanks Sean. So far it is just you and me...and Sparky I spose.
Sean chuckled and left.
He pulled out the reports from Bernice in accounting.
Oh, why here it is. 40% of the income for last month came from the Government including DOD. But what the report does not say and cannot say is that another 38% came from contractors WHO GET ALL THEIR GODDAMN MONEY FROM THE GOVERNMENT.
And this was all 'worked out'. NORTHCO had its own 'constituency in government'. NORTHCO had been allotted too much money according to the dems, since they had no idea even what NORTHCO actually did but the repubs managed to get the monies they want to the corporations they want by filtering monies through other contractors.
But Frank could not get a grasp on what these monies were being used for. As far as the info he gleaned from his personal computer, there was no heading of armaments involved here. But what does he know?
Something clicked, he went back to the brief case and took out the three page letter:
There are at least five areas where the results seen on the enclosed pictures are demonstrated.
North NY State, Buffalo area
Eastern South Dakota
Western suburbs of Atlanta Georgia.
Salem Oregon
Las Vegas
Holy shite. There it is. NORTHCO has offices in four places that he knows of and they are all listed here. Las Vegas though; I wonder.
There was a knock at the door of Frank's office; he quickly tucked the letter into his suit coat and responded:
Enter.
It was Bernice from accounting. Hi Frank. I assume you have the reports so I just grabbed a bunch of completed forms here.
Oh come in Bernice. It's all ok. I assure you. There are just a few questions I have and I thought maybe you might have an answer.
Sure Frank.
Is there...Does NORTHCO have an office in Vegas?
Uh...Bernice was wondering if Frank had clearance for this information. After all she received the information about Vegas in the strictest confidence. But Bernice had been bothered by a number of things lately...like her hands glowing, actually GLOWING at times. And Sean had mentioned off handedly that Frank was helping him with his dog.
Frank, I have to speak frankly with you but I am afraid.
Frank rose up from his chair and walked around his desk to shut the door. He normally did not shut the door in his office when a woman was alone with him, but he needed some information.
Well. I can promise confidentiality. I am not going to pretend you are getting much more than a promise from me, but I do not think you have cause to believe that I will cross you on this. It is up to you, but you can sure save me some time if I can get some simple answers anyway.
We have had an office in Vegas for three years. Bernice blurted it out like a preschooler caught in the school yard throwing dog poop at Billy Thorton... But I digress.
What exactly do we do there?
Frank, I do not even know what we do here.
God, I thought I was the only one, responded Frank.
What information are you privy to concerning the Vegas operation Bernice?
We should not talk about this here Frank.
You are right. Listen, another friend whom I trust here is coming over to my place about six. Could you make it.? I will order Chinese or something.
Love to. I have wanted to speak to somebody about these 'matters' for a long time.
But we keep this between us, right Bernice?
She nodded. Bernice was going to ask who the other 'friend' was but she had an idea it was Sean. And maybe she could work out something with him after the 'meet' so to speak. She had no idea why, but she was soooooooooo horny lately. Then she thought about the neon affect on her hands. I wonder if these things are related?
NORTHCO QUAD
Flying and glowing Photinus pyralis, a firefly. Female of Lampyris noctiluca, the Common Glowworm.
My Dad, he worked in a quandary in Northern Minnesota for thirty five goddamn years and never smiled except when he had the Three Stooges on Television. Oh how he loved Larry, Moe and Curly. We would just laugh it up. All seven of us.
But never a kind word to his kids. We had Mom of course. When I think about it, at 35 years of age, my mom looked fifty five. Lines on her face looked like roads to the mine up there. Deeply rutted by years of ice and snow and rain....Mom's face was rutted by loss and sadness and tears. I honestly cannot remember Dads ever taking Mom out to dinner. He would bring her a box of chocolates on Valentine's Day and her birthday never realizing that she was allergic to chocolate. Mom would simply hand out the candy while he was at work to the children.....
Sean could not stand Algernon. And since he was privy to the personnel files, he knew that Algie (as he humourously referred to him) grew up in northern New York State in a suburb just west of Buffalo. His father had been a math professor at a local community college and his mother was a convicted drug dealer. Anyone could properly discern this if they simply listened closely to his endless narratives. I mean a quandary was probably as close to a quarry as Algie ever got. AND WHO THE HELL WOULD EVER EVER EVER WISH TO LISTEN CLOSELY TO A PSYCHOPATH?
Oh Algie was a bore-ass as Ralph used to call such spewers of drivel, but Algie was a psychopath. Even NORTHCO would send him away for a couple of weeks to a mental ward in the Twin Cities every year or so and for good reason. The last furlough that Algie received had to do with a local ranger who caught him torturing raccoons in the old forest where the old road ran. He would use this poison dart gun, shoot the poor buggers, and then begin removing their little claws.
When Algie was confronted with his inhumane treatment of the little masked critters, he remarked:
HAVE YOU EVER WITNESSED WHAT THESE BUGGERS DO TO BIRDS THAT HAPPEN TO FALL OUT OF NESTS...TOO YOUNG TO FLY AWAY FROM THE GRASP OF THESE MONSTERS AND NOT PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FLEE ON FOOT.
How did such a sociopath ever end up at NORTHCO? It appears that Algie was somehow related to the CEO of NORTHCO years ago and NORTHCO hardly ever fired anyone, once that person was hired. Oh the ranks were thinned from time to time through death and such, as we previously pointed out in this narrative. But there was a strange policy in this company to keep everyone on salary and keep everyone in their little part of the project.
Algie, we must focus on the problem here. Now I gave you the file on this complaint from the local ranger. We cannot piss him off. We must show that NORTHCO cares about what is going on in its neighborhood. Now you are the top chemist here. I want you to come up with a working paper where we demonstrate that pollution comes from other sources. Like the local power plants or factories upstream--including the lumber companies. Okay?
Sure Sean. I am working on it. The constipationaries are grouping together and I understand the problem here.
Good Algie. And I assume you mean constituencies. Right?
Whatever!!!
With that Algie was gone, back in his cubicle where he spent half his time. The other half was spent in the lab in the basement. These were the only working papers that might give Sean a clue as to what the hell was going on in the basement.
He had kind of agreed with Frank that information had to be gleaned from documents in his own section here at NORTHCO. He was especially bothered today because the drive way leading to the entry carved out for trucks to get to the lower level was being retarred again. Did not they just do that last week...no two weeks ago. Is that normal?
It hit him because there were always new ruts and cracks in that driveway, hell in the entire driving and parking areas at NORTHCO. There must be some substance being transferred into NORTHCO OR OUT OF NORTHCO that was dangerous enough to attack streets. And if this substance or these substances were that dangerous to the health of roads, what the hell was the danger to trees and grass? What about human beings?
Meanwhile Frank had showered--the longest shower he had taken since he was 16--and threw all his clothes including his shoes in the garbage. He felt odd to say the least. He was not even tired. In fact he felt reinvigorated for reasons he could not know.
He pulled up his hidden PC and started googling. He felt so stupid he just stayed on Wiki most of the time. Bioflorescence. That is where he started. I mean there were all these pictures of deep sea animals. Of course you have to shine ultraviolet light on those jelly fish and such. But geeeeez, I mean some of these jelly fish look like signs in Time Square. They did not just shine, they glittered. They flashed like neon signs of the most significant nature.
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/03/090317-new-rainbow-jellyfish-picture.html
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/09/photogalleries/fish-red-fluorescence-photos/photo3.html
But he stopped cold for a second, looking at the glowing green worms that secreted this glowing mucus.
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/04/photogalleries/glowing-green-worms/
Then Frank began to look elsewhere. Great pictures from National Geographic for instance. Frank was also interested in intentional gene splicing. Animals including mammals have been experimented upon in order to give them the magic sheen prevalent in bugs of the night and animals of the deep sea. Kind of a Dr. Moreau type of experimentation. The logical conclusion, which sometimes catches us in a most ridiculous web, would be sights of rabbits with lizard heads or fish with long arms containing five finger hands. Ha
But the splicing of genes had begun. http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/player/news/animals-news/fluorescent-dogs-apvin.html
http://google.nationalgeographic.com/search?access=p&entqr=0&output=xml_no_dtd&sort=date%3AD%3AL%3Ad1&ie=UTF-8&btnG.y=10&client=default_frontend&q=gene+splicing&btnG.x=45&ud=1&site=default_collection&oe=UTF-8&proxystylesheet=default_frontend&ip=10.11.30.252&filter=p
Then he found the article on glowing jack-rabbits. There had been reports of these monsters but how the hell do you track something like that down. I mean it had to be some sort pollution involved. There were many things that were being accomplished as far as tracking down these idiosyncrasies of nature or as he called them exceptions to 'the natural course of things'.
The actual cleanup began this week.
An estimated 50 million gallons of liquid wastes from Cold War plutonium-production processes -- laced with radioactive cesium and strontium salts -- were dumped in a 13.7-square-mile area south of central Hanford's 177 underground radioactive waste tanks. That dumping ended more than 40 years ago.
Similar dumping happened at a two-square-mile site in north-central Hanford.
Jackrabbits routinely burrowed into those sites.
They found the salt, liked it, and licked it.
Later, they pooped it, leaving slightly radioactive scat all over the ground.
http://www.seattlepi.com/local/410808_radioactivepoop5.html
Turns out the jack rabbits had found some radioactive substances laying around. Their shite glowed in the dark.
The government has actually came up with a low-flying poop detectors.
Now there might not even be radioactive substances at NORTHCO but something was going on. Or maybe there was. How the hell would he know.
Frank thought of something, with a start, and ran outside to retrieve his bag of clothing. He might not wish this package to further pollute some dump site when it could be tested. Tested for 'things'.
He phoned up Freddy. Took an hour to get a return but there he was. The only guy in the fraternity who found himself buck naked, in the middle of downtown Minneapolis, carrying a sign that said:
I'M A FARMER WHO NEEDS A MECHANIC
Well hello there Franky. How is the gay caballero today?
Once in Cincinnati and I am branded for life Freddy?
Hahahahahaahahahahah What can I do for you my friend?
Freddy, I have a ticklish situation here and the first thing I need is total confidentiality.
You got that Franky. What's her name and her alleged age?
No, no, no Freddy. No problems on that arena, thank God. I work for a company called NORTHCO. I have been with them for ten years and I still do not know what they manufacture.
How the hell does that go down Frank?
Well we can go into that at a later date. But I do know that 80 cents of every dollar made comes from the Feds. The rest comes from investments and I play no small part in all of that. We are secluded up here in the Dakotas and there is some shit coming down that scares the hell out of me Fred. There are environmental changes of the first order and I need some help as I investigate it on the QT. Now you work for those green nuts.
You bet I do Frank and I am proud of it.
I know you are so proud Fred. And all those years we fought about this issue, I am having a rebirth of sorts. A real baptism of fire. Fred I ended up in the woods the other day. I mean we have blue deer, dogs and coons that glow in the dark and I think I am ill because of all this. My personal and secret physician is checking this out.
You mean Kev?
You got it. He is up in Fargo and he has sent out for some tests to be done on my blood. But I need some tests performed on my clothes. I have a full bag of clothes that I woke up in the other day after blacking out for three or four days. There is gook all over them and I know the stuff came from that part of the forest I just told you about....
And you would like me to take a look at the chemicals and such that I find on those clothes?
The two continued to speak on Frank's second phone. The cell phone tied to his private internet and put on the same outside billing. Freddy told him how to properly package the material and the address where he should send that package. Freddy acknowledged the need for secrecy having dealt with many whistle blowing cases. He had been burned several times by private corporate security stings; but his company was privately funded per groups like the Sierra Club and he trusted it completely. Hell, he invested his entire life into this company and its causes. Freddy was 'all in' as in the Texas Holdem game. His entire life had been put into the pot so to speak.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Frank got up and ...there was Sean.
Aren't you supposed to be at work?
Frank, it's six O'clock. Works over and you have to show up tomorrow.
Well what are you doing here?
Come on in Sparky.
Sparky entered, sparkling as ever.
Well hello spanky, how ya doin, said Frank.
Sparky stopped panting and laid down in a slump.
What the hell's the matter with the mutt Sean?
Sean whispered: Call him Sparky you idiot.
Frank frowned. Now I have to show deference to a mutt. Jeeeeeeez. Well hello Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaarky!!!
Sparky immediately jumped out of his malaise and yipped in ecstasy.
Well I'll be damned.
Never did that before Frank. Hell I used to call him chicken brains. Hahaha.
Well come in. You want a beer or something?
Sure. Sean followed Frank into the kitchen. I took him to the vet today. Just now. And the vet was astounded at this glowing. He took some blood and will get back to me. But according to him, Sparky should be full grown by now. Instead of 45 pounds he is supposed to be 65 pounds. And his actual size is much smaller than it is supposed to be. As a matter of fact, Sparky has shrunk.
Frank dropped the bottle of beer onto the floor. It bounced. He carefully set it on the counter and grabbed another one, handing it to Sean.
Sean. We have to have an understanding here. We talked about this before. But what is said between us must be kept between us. Understand?
Frank, I have not discussed this with anyone. And I do not intend to talk about it with anyone.
Frank fixed a bowl of water for Sparky and found some old dry dog food he had kept for Ralphy and set them down on the floor. Sparky was pleased.
Frank was sure the pup was looking at him with delight or some such. Eeeeeewwww.
Frank told Sean about Freddy and how he was going to send him his clothing from the night (week?) before. He also showed him his findings on the PC.
Sean shared with him his plan to get some documents from Algie.
Sparky had fed himself and was lying on the floor next to the beer drinkers.
Frank swore that the mutt looked at him funny, like Frank would make a nice dessert or something.
My Dad, he worked in a quandary in Northern Minnesota for thirty five goddamn years and never smiled except when he had the Three Stooges on Television. Oh how he loved Larry, Moe and Curly. We would just laugh it up. All seven of us.
But never a kind word to his kids. We had Mom of course. When I think about it, at 35 years of age, my mom looked fifty five. Lines on her face looked like roads to the mine up there. Deeply rutted by years of ice and snow and rain....Mom's face was rutted by loss and sadness and tears. I honestly cannot remember Dads ever taking Mom out to dinner. He would bring her a box of chocolates on Valentine's Day and her birthday never realizing that she was allergic to chocolate. Mom would simply hand out the candy while he was at work to the children.....
Sean could not stand Algernon. And since he was privy to the personnel files, he knew that Algie (as he humourously referred to him) grew up in northern New York State in a suburb just west of Buffalo. His father had been a math professor at a local community college and his mother was a convicted drug dealer. Anyone could properly discern this if they simply listened closely to his endless narratives. I mean a quandary was probably as close to a quarry as Algie ever got. AND WHO THE HELL WOULD EVER EVER EVER WISH TO LISTEN CLOSELY TO A PSYCHOPATH?
Oh Algie was a bore-ass as Ralph used to call such spewers of drivel, but Algie was a psychopath. Even NORTHCO would send him away for a couple of weeks to a mental ward in the Twin Cities every year or so and for good reason. The last furlough that Algie received had to do with a local ranger who caught him torturing raccoons in the old forest where the old road ran. He would use this poison dart gun, shoot the poor buggers, and then begin removing their little claws.
When Algie was confronted with his inhumane treatment of the little masked critters, he remarked:
HAVE YOU EVER WITNESSED WHAT THESE BUGGERS DO TO BIRDS THAT HAPPEN TO FALL OUT OF NESTS...TOO YOUNG TO FLY AWAY FROM THE GRASP OF THESE MONSTERS AND NOT PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FLEE ON FOOT.
How did such a sociopath ever end up at NORTHCO? It appears that Algie was somehow related to the CEO of NORTHCO years ago and NORTHCO hardly ever fired anyone, once that person was hired. Oh the ranks were thinned from time to time through death and such, as we previously pointed out in this narrative. But there was a strange policy in this company to keep everyone on salary and keep everyone in their little part of the project.
Algie, we must focus on the problem here. Now I gave you the file on this complaint from the local ranger. We cannot piss him off. We must show that NORTHCO cares about what is going on in its neighborhood. Now you are the top chemist here. I want you to come up with a working paper where we demonstrate that pollution comes from other sources. Like the local power plants or factories upstream--including the lumber companies. Okay?
Sure Sean. I am working on it. The constipationaries are grouping together and I understand the problem here.
Good Algie. And I assume you mean constituencies. Right?
Whatever!!!
With that Algie was gone, back in his cubicle where he spent half his time. The other half was spent in the lab in the basement. These were the only working papers that might give Sean a clue as to what the hell was going on in the basement.
He had kind of agreed with Frank that information had to be gleaned from documents in his own section here at NORTHCO. He was especially bothered today because the drive way leading to the entry carved out for trucks to get to the lower level was being retarred again. Did not they just do that last week...no two weeks ago. Is that normal?
It hit him because there were always new ruts and cracks in that driveway, hell in the entire driving and parking areas at NORTHCO. There must be some substance being transferred into NORTHCO OR OUT OF NORTHCO that was dangerous enough to attack streets. And if this substance or these substances were that dangerous to the health of roads, what the hell was the danger to trees and grass? What about human beings?
Meanwhile Frank had showered--the longest shower he had taken since he was 16--and threw all his clothes including his shoes in the garbage. He felt odd to say the least. He was not even tired. In fact he felt reinvigorated for reasons he could not know.
He pulled up his hidden PC and started googling. He felt so stupid he just stayed on Wiki most of the time. Bioflorescence. That is where he started. I mean there were all these pictures of deep sea animals. Of course you have to shine ultraviolet light on those jelly fish and such. But geeeeez, I mean some of these jelly fish look like signs in Time Square. They did not just shine, they glittered. They flashed like neon signs of the most significant nature.
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/03/090317-new-rainbow-jellyfish-picture.html
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/09/photogalleries/fish-red-fluorescence-photos/photo3.html
But he stopped cold for a second, looking at the glowing green worms that secreted this glowing mucus.
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/04/photogalleries/glowing-green-worms/
Then Frank began to look elsewhere. Great pictures from National Geographic for instance. Frank was also interested in intentional gene splicing. Animals including mammals have been experimented upon in order to give them the magic sheen prevalent in bugs of the night and animals of the deep sea. Kind of a Dr. Moreau type of experimentation. The logical conclusion, which sometimes catches us in a most ridiculous web, would be sights of rabbits with lizard heads or fish with long arms containing five finger hands. Ha
But the splicing of genes had begun. http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/player/news/animals-news/fluorescent-dogs-apvin.html
http://google.nationalgeographic.com/search?access=p&entqr=0&output=xml_no_dtd&sort=date%3AD%3AL%3Ad1&ie=UTF-8&btnG.y=10&client=default_frontend&q=gene+splicing&btnG.x=45&ud=1&site=default_collection&oe=UTF-8&proxystylesheet=default_frontend&ip=10.11.30.252&filter=p
Then he found the article on glowing jack-rabbits. There had been reports of these monsters but how the hell do you track something like that down. I mean it had to be some sort pollution involved. There were many things that were being accomplished as far as tracking down these idiosyncrasies of nature or as he called them exceptions to 'the natural course of things'.
The actual cleanup began this week.
An estimated 50 million gallons of liquid wastes from Cold War plutonium-production processes -- laced with radioactive cesium and strontium salts -- were dumped in a 13.7-square-mile area south of central Hanford's 177 underground radioactive waste tanks. That dumping ended more than 40 years ago.
Similar dumping happened at a two-square-mile site in north-central Hanford.
Jackrabbits routinely burrowed into those sites.
They found the salt, liked it, and licked it.
Later, they pooped it, leaving slightly radioactive scat all over the ground.
http://www.seattlepi.com/local/410808_radioactivepoop5.html
Turns out the jack rabbits had found some radioactive substances laying around. Their shite glowed in the dark.
The government has actually came up with a low-flying poop detectors.
Now there might not even be radioactive substances at NORTHCO but something was going on. Or maybe there was. How the hell would he know.
Frank thought of something, with a start, and ran outside to retrieve his bag of clothing. He might not wish this package to further pollute some dump site when it could be tested. Tested for 'things'.
He phoned up Freddy. Took an hour to get a return but there he was. The only guy in the fraternity who found himself buck naked, in the middle of downtown Minneapolis, carrying a sign that said:
I'M A FARMER WHO NEEDS A MECHANIC
Well hello there Franky. How is the gay caballero today?
Once in Cincinnati and I am branded for life Freddy?
Hahahahahaahahahahah What can I do for you my friend?
Freddy, I have a ticklish situation here and the first thing I need is total confidentiality.
You got that Franky. What's her name and her alleged age?
No, no, no Freddy. No problems on that arena, thank God. I work for a company called NORTHCO. I have been with them for ten years and I still do not know what they manufacture.
How the hell does that go down Frank?
Well we can go into that at a later date. But I do know that 80 cents of every dollar made comes from the Feds. The rest comes from investments and I play no small part in all of that. We are secluded up here in the Dakotas and there is some shit coming down that scares the hell out of me Fred. There are environmental changes of the first order and I need some help as I investigate it on the QT. Now you work for those green nuts.
You bet I do Frank and I am proud of it.
I know you are so proud Fred. And all those years we fought about this issue, I am having a rebirth of sorts. A real baptism of fire. Fred I ended up in the woods the other day. I mean we have blue deer, dogs and coons that glow in the dark and I think I am ill because of all this. My personal and secret physician is checking this out.
You mean Kev?
You got it. He is up in Fargo and he has sent out for some tests to be done on my blood. But I need some tests performed on my clothes. I have a full bag of clothes that I woke up in the other day after blacking out for three or four days. There is gook all over them and I know the stuff came from that part of the forest I just told you about....
And you would like me to take a look at the chemicals and such that I find on those clothes?
The two continued to speak on Frank's second phone. The cell phone tied to his private internet and put on the same outside billing. Freddy told him how to properly package the material and the address where he should send that package. Freddy acknowledged the need for secrecy having dealt with many whistle blowing cases. He had been burned several times by private corporate security stings; but his company was privately funded per groups like the Sierra Club and he trusted it completely. Hell, he invested his entire life into this company and its causes. Freddy was 'all in' as in the Texas Holdem game. His entire life had been put into the pot so to speak.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Frank got up and ...there was Sean.
Aren't you supposed to be at work?
Frank, it's six O'clock. Works over and you have to show up tomorrow.
Well what are you doing here?
Come on in Sparky.
Sparky entered, sparkling as ever.
Well hello spanky, how ya doin, said Frank.
Sparky stopped panting and laid down in a slump.
What the hell's the matter with the mutt Sean?
Sean whispered: Call him Sparky you idiot.
Frank frowned. Now I have to show deference to a mutt. Jeeeeeeez. Well hello Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaarky!!!
Sparky immediately jumped out of his malaise and yipped in ecstasy.
Well I'll be damned.
Never did that before Frank. Hell I used to call him chicken brains. Hahaha.
Well come in. You want a beer or something?
Sure. Sean followed Frank into the kitchen. I took him to the vet today. Just now. And the vet was astounded at this glowing. He took some blood and will get back to me. But according to him, Sparky should be full grown by now. Instead of 45 pounds he is supposed to be 65 pounds. And his actual size is much smaller than it is supposed to be. As a matter of fact, Sparky has shrunk.
Frank dropped the bottle of beer onto the floor. It bounced. He carefully set it on the counter and grabbed another one, handing it to Sean.
Sean. We have to have an understanding here. We talked about this before. But what is said between us must be kept between us. Understand?
Frank, I have not discussed this with anyone. And I do not intend to talk about it with anyone.
Frank fixed a bowl of water for Sparky and found some old dry dog food he had kept for Ralphy and set them down on the floor. Sparky was pleased.
Frank was sure the pup was looking at him with delight or some such. Eeeeeewwww.
Frank told Sean about Freddy and how he was going to send him his clothing from the night (week?) before. He also showed him his findings on the PC.
Sean shared with him his plan to get some documents from Algie.
Sparky had fed himself and was lying on the floor next to the beer drinkers.
Frank swore that the mutt looked at him funny, like Frank would make a nice dessert or something.
NORTHCO TRE: The Munchkins
http://strawberryfieldsforever.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/munchkins2.jpg
Wednesday came and there were still no signs of Frank. Sean had to take the shuttle to work from the project--as they like to call it. He told Bernice in accounting that the damn car was in for repairs.
I mean, he could not figure it out. The damn seat kept changing positions on him. He could hardly reach the brake peddle that morning. He was just using the electric switch to rearrange the seat weekly, or it seemed that way anyhow; but what if it screwed up while he was driving?
At 5:30 Sean knocked off and while he headed for the shuttle he 'noticed' THE CASTLE and decided to visit it for some repast. I mean he had been working double duty since Frank's absence. He deserved a break and since Sparky was gone and all........what the hay?
Moseying over to his table he stopped at the bar and ordered a pitcher of their finest.
Maria brought him his package in short time. God she's pretty. So diminutive, it occurred to him that the tray would be heavy for someone like her. Thank you Maria, Sean said after slipping her a five spot. As she walked back to the bar all Sean could think about what her pretty mouth. Oh how he would like to put......
God I love this stuff, he thought.
Hey Seany, how in the fuck are you doin'?
Holy Christ its Tom from personnel. Smile...Jesus he hated this guy.
Hey Seany you got a sec? Tom asked.
Of course Tom, grab a chair. The party is here, Sean responded.
Tom sat down and Maria showed up out of nowhere with an extra mug. Oh God it's cold. You know I never get used to it, Tom thought. But the air is so clean and pure and the interrelationships are much better so he was glad he was out of St. Louis.
Tom grew up just outside of St. Louis. His mother was a member of the board for the local church and worked part time at the local lingerie shop. Dad sold used tires out of the garage but picked up enough money in his towing operation to fill the family needs. Raising seven kids was no easy feat, even in an all white suburb. Dad even made it on the City Council until those damn rumors about dealing weed started to surface. LIFE IS SO UNFAIR AT TIMES.
Maria brought over a tray of hors d'oeuvres that included those fried pickles. Best fried pickles he ever ate, thought Sean. God I hope he does not get into politics today, thought Sean.
You know that black bastard doesn't even have any right to sit in an oval office where all those heroes resided all those years. Those fucking liberals are now in charge and all they want is our money so they can help out people that aren't worth one goddamn...I think there is going to be another revolution comin and its no wonder. It's those goddamn voting machines you know, its all a plot to make us socialists and ...
SHUT THE FUCK UP. Tom, shut the fuck up.
Tom was startled. After all they were peers. Sean had no leverage over him. As a matter of fact Tom actually made more money than Sean. Who the hell is he to tell me to shut up.
Sorry Tom, Sean said while pouring him another beer. I just cannot take any politics today. You know I am much more concerned with Northco and Frank. I mean Frank has been gone ten days and it's a mess on the third floor and all. At any rate I'm sorry. Let's just keep it at that. OK?
Sean never knew his dad and his mom had been an actress, in those exotic movies of the fifties and early sixties. There had just been he and Billy. But he remembered Ralph. Ralph was his best friend in those days. One day Ralph just showed up and stayed at Sean's home until both he and his brother graduated from high school.
Ralph was a tall, good looking Black man and Sean could not stand racist clap trap. No matter how drunk he got.
Okay, okay...I am just upset about where this country is headed is all
All of a sudden Bernice from accounting came by and both the gentlemen invited her in.
Why thank you, Bernice said. Bernice really like those fried pickles and secretly had a thing for Sean. She really liked Frank but he scared her for some reason.
Sean was self conscious when Bernice was around. My god I am 49 years old and a woman can still make me nervous. When the fuck am I goin to grow up anyway, he thought. He loved watching Bernice eat those fried pickles. She would take a slow bit after it entered her mouth; she kind of just sucked on the morsel a bit and her lips would purse up so pretty and.........geeeeeeez get a goddamn grip son!!!
Any word on Frank, Sean? Bernice had been a little more than just upset over Frank's absence. That was clear to Sean if not to others in management.
The trio ordered dinner and while they supped a troop of troubadors appear, properly dressed in old English attire. There were five of them, and something struck Sean immediately.
THEY ARE ALL SO SHORT.
Have you ever seen these guys before Bernice?
Oh, Sean you never play here on Wenesday's and this is a regular 'spot' for this band. The Gay Mandolins, they are called.
HELLO CASTLE DWELLERS, WE ARE THE GAY MANDOLINS AND WE PRESENT TO YOU ALL A SONG OF HOPE:
Something in the ale that moves
That tastes just like no other
Something in the ale that woo woos me
I cannot just leave it now
Don't think I'll go right now
DOO DOO DO DO DO DO
Somewhere in this pint is gold
I don't need no other lover
Something in her style is not lonely
Don't want to leave right now
I'll just stick around right now
You're asking me will other hops grow
Who will sow them, I don't know
Others may try to brew and brew
If I knew, if I knew
Something in the ale is gold
And all I have to do is drink of her
Something in the ale that moves me
Don't want to leave her now
You know I believe her now
Do do do do do do
Yeah. Cried the crowd on onlookers.
Great song sparkled Bernice.
Sean smiled and nodded. But inside, he was scared shiteless. These little people with painted faces frightened the bejeesus out of him. He was sweating profusely and his right hand was trembling as he slugged down some more ale.
I better go, I have an early start tomorrow, Sean said leaving a twenty on the table.
You took the shuttle, right Sean? inquired Bernice.
Ah, yeah. Sean had forgotten he had no car.
Well I should go also, mind if I tag along on the shuttle?
As they left the Gay Mandolins began singing:
We represent the NORTHCO-op guild
The NORTHCO-op guild
The NORTHCO-op guild
We represent the NORTHCO-op guild
And in the name of the NORTHCO-op guild
We wish to welcome you to Castle Grand!!!
Oh Sweet Jesus Sean sighed as the two escaped into the cool night.
Sean awoke to heavy snoring. WHAT THE FU......?
He looked around. It seemed like his room, facing east...same dimensions. He turned to his right and there was Bernice. My god she needs one of those nose things or something. He crawled out quietly and grabbed his under things and put on his pants. Where is my goddamn shirt, anyway?
As he turned to leave from the darkened room--the sun had not yet risen and the drapes were the old fashioned thick sort that let no light into the room; Sean saw her right foot glowing in the dark as it fell out from beneath the blanket. Not one for a night light this Bernice; but with her gifts she probably does not need one.
He managed to get out into the cold morning air. Oh, that Bernice has a way, let me tell yoooooooooooo. Wow!! But he had to cleanup and such for work and it was a good thing that his house was only three blocks from here.
Where did someone like Bernice learn how to do some of those things anyway? Christ, she could do this act professionally.
As he got closer and closer to his yard he noticed a figure by his door laid out with an orange ball. What the h.........
He increased his pace and as he got closer to his front door he saw it was a man. IT WAS FRANK. And the ball was ...could that be Sparky?
Frank stood up. He looked like something the dog dragged in. His clothes were ripped and filthy. He had not shaved and his face was filthy.
Frank!!! What the hell happened? You look like shite.
Sean? Holy cow, what the hell am I doing here?
Sean quickly unlocked the door and shuffled Frank in, Sparky sparkled with excitement, following the two roués inside and quickly running over to his feeding dish in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Sean shuffled Frank into the living room and helped him onto the sofa. Here, let me get you some water.
Sean ran into the kitchen and, putting some ice in a glass he ran some tap water and rushed to his friend's aid.
Frank scarfed it down. You want some more Frank?
Uh..uh...how about juice?
Sure be right back. Sean fixed some coffee and poured some juice while it brewed and brought the glass back to Frank.
What the hell happened? Did we go to the Castle last nice Sean?
Holy crap. Maybe I should call 911 or something.
NO NO NO NO. Sean just let me ...let me gather myself. After I get home I will clean up. Tell them I will be in tomorrow. Geeeeeeeez this is my vacation. What the hell date is it?
It is October 23rd Frank. You have been on vacation and this is the Thursday after that week already ran. Frank the authorities have been looking for you for at least three days. This'll be the fourth.
Say what? Vacation, I never...suddenly Frank recalled Fargo and Kevin and the casino. But how the hell did he end up on Sean's front stoop?
Just then they both heard something in the drive way. Oh good its my car, just a sec Frank.
Sean ran outside the front door. The driver got out of the vehicle and there was the autoshop's car on the street waiting.
Just sign here Mr. Santana.
Sean looked at the document and signed quickly taking the keys.
What the hell was wrong with it Sid?
Nothing Mr. Santana. Not a darn thing. Sid said as he turned his back to get to his car waiting in the street.
Sean suddenly remembered Ma's favorite line:
THANKS, THANKS FOR NOTHIN'!!!!
After getting inside again Sean fixed the coffee and sat with Frank awhile. They spoke of Fargo and Sean promised to be discrete. Frank was in no mood to talk of his stature problem. Sean spoke of the 'munchkins' singing at the Castle.
Do you suppose the munchkins were the little people we saw in the garage and on the fourth floor Sean?
I thought of that. Who knows? They certainly had the right stature if you get my drift. But they were wearing costumes and it really was not something I wished to check out. I just wanted to go elsewhere.
Speaking of elsewhere, where were you last night?
Oh I...well Frank a man has needs!!!
Oh yeah. Hahahahahahaha. What's her name...nonono...don't tell me, I have no time for soap operas right now.
What is the last thing you remember Frank?
Right now, all I remember is that I was driving home from Fargo on th..Friday. Yeah, that's it Friday. And for some goddamnable reason I ended up on the old road. Remember the old road, Sean. It was supposedly abandoned for the new road because of 'ground' problems. Supposedly there were running water problems so they were going to simply destroy it and, I suppose, cover it owver and let it mesh into the surrounding forest. Well, it is still there. Nothing wrong with it.
Any way I saw something in the road or alongside the road or some such. I get out of my car on the side of the road and............blank. Nothing. Nada. Until I wake up here. With that mutt of yours. Which reminds me, do you realize that Spanky glows in the dark?
Yeah yeah yeah. But its Sparky.
What do I tell them at work Frank?
Tell Sphincter--aint it funny how some people have names that really describe them well--you got a call from me. That I had car problems and I was coming into town this morning and will make it to the office tomorrow.
Speaking of cars, where the hell is your car Frank?
I do not have the faintest idea Sean.
Wednesday came and there were still no signs of Frank. Sean had to take the shuttle to work from the project--as they like to call it. He told Bernice in accounting that the damn car was in for repairs.
I mean, he could not figure it out. The damn seat kept changing positions on him. He could hardly reach the brake peddle that morning. He was just using the electric switch to rearrange the seat weekly, or it seemed that way anyhow; but what if it screwed up while he was driving?
At 5:30 Sean knocked off and while he headed for the shuttle he 'noticed' THE CASTLE and decided to visit it for some repast. I mean he had been working double duty since Frank's absence. He deserved a break and since Sparky was gone and all........what the hay?
Moseying over to his table he stopped at the bar and ordered a pitcher of their finest.
Maria brought him his package in short time. God she's pretty. So diminutive, it occurred to him that the tray would be heavy for someone like her. Thank you Maria, Sean said after slipping her a five spot. As she walked back to the bar all Sean could think about what her pretty mouth. Oh how he would like to put......
God I love this stuff, he thought.
Hey Seany, how in the fuck are you doin'?
Holy Christ its Tom from personnel. Smile...Jesus he hated this guy.
Hey Seany you got a sec? Tom asked.
Of course Tom, grab a chair. The party is here, Sean responded.
Tom sat down and Maria showed up out of nowhere with an extra mug. Oh God it's cold. You know I never get used to it, Tom thought. But the air is so clean and pure and the interrelationships are much better so he was glad he was out of St. Louis.
Tom grew up just outside of St. Louis. His mother was a member of the board for the local church and worked part time at the local lingerie shop. Dad sold used tires out of the garage but picked up enough money in his towing operation to fill the family needs. Raising seven kids was no easy feat, even in an all white suburb. Dad even made it on the City Council until those damn rumors about dealing weed started to surface. LIFE IS SO UNFAIR AT TIMES.
Maria brought over a tray of hors d'oeuvres that included those fried pickles. Best fried pickles he ever ate, thought Sean. God I hope he does not get into politics today, thought Sean.
You know that black bastard doesn't even have any right to sit in an oval office where all those heroes resided all those years. Those fucking liberals are now in charge and all they want is our money so they can help out people that aren't worth one goddamn...I think there is going to be another revolution comin and its no wonder. It's those goddamn voting machines you know, its all a plot to make us socialists and ...
SHUT THE FUCK UP. Tom, shut the fuck up.
Tom was startled. After all they were peers. Sean had no leverage over him. As a matter of fact Tom actually made more money than Sean. Who the hell is he to tell me to shut up.
Sorry Tom, Sean said while pouring him another beer. I just cannot take any politics today. You know I am much more concerned with Northco and Frank. I mean Frank has been gone ten days and it's a mess on the third floor and all. At any rate I'm sorry. Let's just keep it at that. OK?
Sean never knew his dad and his mom had been an actress, in those exotic movies of the fifties and early sixties. There had just been he and Billy. But he remembered Ralph. Ralph was his best friend in those days. One day Ralph just showed up and stayed at Sean's home until both he and his brother graduated from high school.
Ralph was a tall, good looking Black man and Sean could not stand racist clap trap. No matter how drunk he got.
Okay, okay...I am just upset about where this country is headed is all
All of a sudden Bernice from accounting came by and both the gentlemen invited her in.
Why thank you, Bernice said. Bernice really like those fried pickles and secretly had a thing for Sean. She really liked Frank but he scared her for some reason.
Sean was self conscious when Bernice was around. My god I am 49 years old and a woman can still make me nervous. When the fuck am I goin to grow up anyway, he thought. He loved watching Bernice eat those fried pickles. She would take a slow bit after it entered her mouth; she kind of just sucked on the morsel a bit and her lips would purse up so pretty and.........geeeeeeez get a goddamn grip son!!!
Any word on Frank, Sean? Bernice had been a little more than just upset over Frank's absence. That was clear to Sean if not to others in management.
The trio ordered dinner and while they supped a troop of troubadors appear, properly dressed in old English attire. There were five of them, and something struck Sean immediately.
THEY ARE ALL SO SHORT.
Have you ever seen these guys before Bernice?
Oh, Sean you never play here on Wenesday's and this is a regular 'spot' for this band. The Gay Mandolins, they are called.
HELLO CASTLE DWELLERS, WE ARE THE GAY MANDOLINS AND WE PRESENT TO YOU ALL A SONG OF HOPE:
Something in the ale that moves
That tastes just like no other
Something in the ale that woo woos me
I cannot just leave it now
Don't think I'll go right now
DOO DOO DO DO DO DO
Somewhere in this pint is gold
I don't need no other lover
Something in her style is not lonely
Don't want to leave right now
I'll just stick around right now
You're asking me will other hops grow
Who will sow them, I don't know
Others may try to brew and brew
If I knew, if I knew
Something in the ale is gold
And all I have to do is drink of her
Something in the ale that moves me
Don't want to leave her now
You know I believe her now
Do do do do do do
Yeah. Cried the crowd on onlookers.
Great song sparkled Bernice.
Sean smiled and nodded. But inside, he was scared shiteless. These little people with painted faces frightened the bejeesus out of him. He was sweating profusely and his right hand was trembling as he slugged down some more ale.
I better go, I have an early start tomorrow, Sean said leaving a twenty on the table.
You took the shuttle, right Sean? inquired Bernice.
Ah, yeah. Sean had forgotten he had no car.
Well I should go also, mind if I tag along on the shuttle?
As they left the Gay Mandolins began singing:
We represent the NORTHCO-op guild
The NORTHCO-op guild
The NORTHCO-op guild
We represent the NORTHCO-op guild
And in the name of the NORTHCO-op guild
We wish to welcome you to Castle Grand!!!
Oh Sweet Jesus Sean sighed as the two escaped into the cool night.
Sean awoke to heavy snoring. WHAT THE FU......?
He looked around. It seemed like his room, facing east...same dimensions. He turned to his right and there was Bernice. My god she needs one of those nose things or something. He crawled out quietly and grabbed his under things and put on his pants. Where is my goddamn shirt, anyway?
As he turned to leave from the darkened room--the sun had not yet risen and the drapes were the old fashioned thick sort that let no light into the room; Sean saw her right foot glowing in the dark as it fell out from beneath the blanket. Not one for a night light this Bernice; but with her gifts she probably does not need one.
He managed to get out into the cold morning air. Oh, that Bernice has a way, let me tell yoooooooooooo. Wow!! But he had to cleanup and such for work and it was a good thing that his house was only three blocks from here.
Where did someone like Bernice learn how to do some of those things anyway? Christ, she could do this act professionally.
As he got closer and closer to his yard he noticed a figure by his door laid out with an orange ball. What the h.........
He increased his pace and as he got closer to his front door he saw it was a man. IT WAS FRANK. And the ball was ...could that be Sparky?
Frank stood up. He looked like something the dog dragged in. His clothes were ripped and filthy. He had not shaved and his face was filthy.
Frank!!! What the hell happened? You look like shite.
Sean? Holy cow, what the hell am I doing here?
Sean quickly unlocked the door and shuffled Frank in, Sparky sparkled with excitement, following the two roués inside and quickly running over to his feeding dish in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Sean shuffled Frank into the living room and helped him onto the sofa. Here, let me get you some water.
Sean ran into the kitchen and, putting some ice in a glass he ran some tap water and rushed to his friend's aid.
Frank scarfed it down. You want some more Frank?
Uh..uh...how about juice?
Sure be right back. Sean fixed some coffee and poured some juice while it brewed and brought the glass back to Frank.
What the hell happened? Did we go to the Castle last nice Sean?
Holy crap. Maybe I should call 911 or something.
NO NO NO NO. Sean just let me ...let me gather myself. After I get home I will clean up. Tell them I will be in tomorrow. Geeeeeeeez this is my vacation. What the hell date is it?
It is October 23rd Frank. You have been on vacation and this is the Thursday after that week already ran. Frank the authorities have been looking for you for at least three days. This'll be the fourth.
Say what? Vacation, I never...suddenly Frank recalled Fargo and Kevin and the casino. But how the hell did he end up on Sean's front stoop?
Just then they both heard something in the drive way. Oh good its my car, just a sec Frank.
Sean ran outside the front door. The driver got out of the vehicle and there was the autoshop's car on the street waiting.
Just sign here Mr. Santana.
Sean looked at the document and signed quickly taking the keys.
What the hell was wrong with it Sid?
Nothing Mr. Santana. Not a darn thing. Sid said as he turned his back to get to his car waiting in the street.
Sean suddenly remembered Ma's favorite line:
THANKS, THANKS FOR NOTHIN'!!!!
After getting inside again Sean fixed the coffee and sat with Frank awhile. They spoke of Fargo and Sean promised to be discrete. Frank was in no mood to talk of his stature problem. Sean spoke of the 'munchkins' singing at the Castle.
Do you suppose the munchkins were the little people we saw in the garage and on the fourth floor Sean?
I thought of that. Who knows? They certainly had the right stature if you get my drift. But they were wearing costumes and it really was not something I wished to check out. I just wanted to go elsewhere.
Speaking of elsewhere, where were you last night?
Oh I...well Frank a man has needs!!!
Oh yeah. Hahahahahahaha. What's her name...nonono...don't tell me, I have no time for soap operas right now.
What is the last thing you remember Frank?
Right now, all I remember is that I was driving home from Fargo on th..Friday. Yeah, that's it Friday. And for some goddamnable reason I ended up on the old road. Remember the old road, Sean. It was supposedly abandoned for the new road because of 'ground' problems. Supposedly there were running water problems so they were going to simply destroy it and, I suppose, cover it owver and let it mesh into the surrounding forest. Well, it is still there. Nothing wrong with it.
Any way I saw something in the road or alongside the road or some such. I get out of my car on the side of the road and............blank. Nothing. Nada. Until I wake up here. With that mutt of yours. Which reminds me, do you realize that Spanky glows in the dark?
Yeah yeah yeah. But its Sparky.
What do I tell them at work Frank?
Tell Sphincter--aint it funny how some people have names that really describe them well--you got a call from me. That I had car problems and I was coming into town this morning and will make it to the office tomorrow.
Speaking of cars, where the hell is your car Frank?
I do not have the faintest idea Sean.
NORTHCO TOO
[[Image:
]]
Frank awoke in a sweat. Something was not right.
There it was again. The noise is what woke him. He gathered himself and quietly exited the bed, moving quietly to the bureau and opening the lowest drawer to grasp his 45.
This all took him back to his Air Force training. He slid into his slippers and moved to the window of his bedroom that looked over his front yard.
No vehicles. It was inordinately dark due to the new moon and the cloud cover. The garage light was on. Since it was not on when Frank retired some four hours prior, and since the light was movement sensitive; the game was afoot as they say.
He edged down the hall He had grabbed his pen flashlight at the same time as he grabbed his gun and was using it to aid him in his present pursuit. He had to assume that this could all be a false alarm. He certainly could have dreamt the noise. Hell a squirrel or a skunk could have triggered the garage light sensor.
There it is. There it is again he thought.
WHO THE FUCK IS IN HIS HOUSE?
Slowly he proceeded down the staircase. Frank was pissed because the sweat was flowing profusely down his brow. He stopped to wipe his forehead with his pajama sleeve.
There it is again.
HALT. HALT I SAY.
A light, a flicker, a movement.
Pop!!!
Instinctively Frank fired his weapon from the lowest step of the staircase. He fired at the menacing figure in his sights.
Oh my God!!! I just shot Sean!!!
Frank awoke to find himself on the floor in front of his entertainment center. He was covered in perspiration now and quickly found himself to the wall switch and turned on the light.
HOLY JESUS. It was just a dream. Just to make sure he ran upstairs and checked the bureau drawer and sure enough, there was the forty five as well as the flashlight.
Damn I hate that. That moment in the middle of the night where you are sure you have just awakened only to discover that you have simply continued into another dream.
He went back downstairs, since the adrenaline would prevent any sleep in the short term; got to the kitchen, made coffee and settled down in his executive chair for a smoke.
The moral is: keep your eyes open for you know not the day nor the hour.
WHAT THE HELL DAY IS IT ANYWAY?
He pressed the button and the pc appeared. Shortly he was on line. Three AM on the fourteenth. Hell its Monday. What the hell happened to Sunday? And what the hell was he doing on the floor?
Frank got to the office an hour and a half early. When he awoke from his nightmares he always went to work early. Somehow it shook the ghosts from the previous evening out of his inner soul.
He checked his desk and pulled out Monday's file. Sure enough, there were his weekly instructions; a meeting early on and the rest of the day on his company computer. He needed some time off.
Frank approached Sphincter after the meeting.
Sir I need a couple days. I have not been feeling up to snuff lately.
Frank. You are drinking too much. Tell you what. You have 45 days vacation time coming and our new policy is that if you do not use it in the next 15 months it's gone. Things are pretty much under control here.
Clean up your desk and check in with Sean and take off at noon.
See you next week Frank.
Frank got on the phone and set up appointment with Kevin. Kevin was an old undergraduate buddy and his secret physician in Fargo. Frank chose him because Fargo was untraceable. I mean why would anyone check in at Fargo for any reason? Different state altogether, and less predictable as far as tracking down his records than Minneapolis.
Frank really never trusted anyone and that was how he had become a hermit; hell that is why he took a position with a corp in the middle of nowhere. Frank not only distrusted people, he really did not like them.
He cleaned up his paper work and called Sean into his office. Sean would take over his duties for the rest of the week.
Where ya goin Frank? Someplace warm I hope. Ha
Oh I will sally forth to the cities Sean. I have some old girl friends over there and it will be fun to eat out at some of the old restaurants. I will even take in a play and stop and see some old friends at the U.
Sounds like fun. And no drug tests for the next six months. Ha.
Frank bid Sean adieu and went back home to pack. Covered the pc with a special software that only he could crack and hit the road.
He started east just in case he was being followed and took a highway in Minnesota north to Fargo.
The old ghosts, as always, began making their voices heard. He grabbed a stogie from the glove compartment and put Bach into his stereo.
As he reached the outskirts of Fargo Frank stopped at the Hilary. He ordered the seafood platter after knocking down a Martini.
Frank awoke in the hotel across the street, careful to leave his car where it was; in the parking lot of the restaurant. No byes on the DUI's in Fargo. Ha. He cleaned up and went to Kevin's clinic.
Weight, height, BP, blood and urine. The normal protocol for his yearly check in with Kevin.
So how is your ass Frank? Asked id Dr. Kevin as he entered. We playin' poker tonight? And I hope you brought more cash than just for your visit with me, You know, you really have a CEO health care package. Why do you never cash in on that here? Oh, it is the old paranoia is it not?
Frank never used his health insurance for these visits. The records would end up with the insurance company and on Sphincter's desk within the week.
You bet. I never hit casinos anymore Kev unless its with you. But let's take a shuttle this time and get a cab back, ok?
Sounds good. Now the tests will not come back until tomorrow, Jason's a little behind on things. But...
But...what?
How tall are you Frank?
Oh come on Kev. They just measured me.
No, I am serious.
6 with an inch to spare. You know that. It says right there, pointing to the file in the doctor's hand.
5'9" Frank. Here come with me.
They went out of the office and into the hall to the scale and the measurement was taken again....
Frank headed home on Friday using the shorter route and skipping Minnesota this time. Two grand richer via a machine. Hah. He would have been three grand down because of Hold Em had it not been for the machine.
Depression was grabbing him. 48 years old and he had lost four inches in height. Kevin could not explain it.
What about my clothes? My pants fit the same as they did before. He should have cuffs scraping the floor? Shirts fit just fine. And why did he have no problems with his shoes? And the coats and the....
None of this made any sense to Frank. Kevin got the test results back. Everything checked out. But Kevin was upset and took some more blood. He had a buddy at Mayo and was sending the fluid down to Rochester for further testing.
All of a sudden the car stopped. Frank noticed that he was on the old road again; about ten miles from home. He had slowed down because he saw something in the road and pulled over to the shoulder to investigate. It was about thirty degrees, cool even up here for mid October and the stars and moon shown bright. Still no snow. He looked west and saw some shadows moving.
Frank was not heard from for awhile.
The week passed and Sean got to work one minute early. Sean was a little 'anal' that way. NEVER GIVE THE BASTARDS AN EXTRA MINUTE. Well, one minute so there would never be an issue. This all when Sean put in at least eight hours on his pc at home on the weekends and at least eight more during the week.
Sean was a bit of a coward. And of course a control freak. All cowards are control freaks because they must fantasize that they have some control over a universe they know deep down is chaotic. However, except for raucous nights at the castle, his life certainly was one of quiet desperation.
It was noon when Mr. Spincter wandered into his office. Sean you are an acting Super for awhile.
Where's Frank?
We are attempting to discover that. Do you know where he was going last week.
Well he said the Twin Cities, his old haunts. He even spoke of visiting the U.
No, Sean. He never made the Twin Cities.
O my God said Sean. What could have happened to him? O, he might have changed his mind you know. I mean it was a free week. Maybe he did end up going south a ways. I suppose.
Well we have called his cells. His personal and his car phone. Nada. You sure Frank did not mention anything?
No Mr. Sphincter. I mean you have me concerned. I assure you I would not keep anything from you with regards to Frank anyway.
And in regards to anything else Sean?
Holy shite!!! What the hell was I thinking? Okay, gather yourself up boy.
Never mind idiot. Just make sure I get my t-4's and such over the next. Week. And if you hear anything, I WANT TO KNOW IMMEDIATELY. UNDERSTAND?
Understood, sir.
Sean left an hour later than usual that Monday. He was clearly shaken and decided to skip the castle on his way home. Flo had just moved out to live with her mother.
Don't you even want to know why Sean, she had said.
Of course he did not want to know why.
And since he had married rich, it should not cost him anything.
It was dark when he got home. Come on Sparkey, let's take a walk.
Arf. Arf. Sparkey, one of those smaller mutts that looks kind of like a lab came running in.
And Sean almost lost his lunch. Coming at him from the dark kitchen, Sean swore that Sparkey was sparkier than ever. I mean, he positively glowed.
Sparkey glowed blue in the dark. Since it was too late to do anything about it, if in fact anything could be done at all, Sean took his blue pooch out for his normal walk. All Sean could hope for was that the neighbors did not notice the anomaly. Quickly he took the dog to the trail in the wood, safely out of view.
Jesus H. Christ. Even his poop glows in the dark. Yuck.
There's something happenin here and I sure the hell do not know what it is, thought Sean.
Sparky sensed something in the bushes and pulled like crazy on the leash, until his collar broke. The little bugger took off on a start into the bushes, into the dark forest.
Sean took after the pet immediately screaming the nick name that now best described the little canine.
The idiot tripped on a fallen twig. Well Goddamn it all anyway. Hell, I don't even have my flashlight.
Just then Sean saw eight hungry eyes glowing in the dark. Staring straight at him and following him as he stood to leave. That was enough of his walk.
He ran home faster than he had run in a decade. Panting he got into the home. He ran to his little bar and fixed a three finger scotch and sat in the dark on his sofa. He still had not caught his breath and it seemed like seconds rather than fifteen minutes since the fall.
He grabbed the remote and put on a tune.
Take me now, baby, here as I am
Hold me close, and try and understand
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe
Love is a banquet on which we feed
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel when I'm in your hand
Take my hand, come under cover
They can't hurt you now can't hurt
you now, can't hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us [ x2 ]
Have I a doubt, baby when I'm alone
Love is a ring ,a telephone
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed 'til the morning comes
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel, under your command
Take my hand, as the sun descends
They can't touch you now can't touch
you now, can't touch you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
He began to relax, finishing his drink and sinking into the sofa. He happened to look down.
His pants cuff was glowing orange.
]]
Frank awoke in a sweat. Something was not right.
There it was again. The noise is what woke him. He gathered himself and quietly exited the bed, moving quietly to the bureau and opening the lowest drawer to grasp his 45.
This all took him back to his Air Force training. He slid into his slippers and moved to the window of his bedroom that looked over his front yard.
No vehicles. It was inordinately dark due to the new moon and the cloud cover. The garage light was on. Since it was not on when Frank retired some four hours prior, and since the light was movement sensitive; the game was afoot as they say.
He edged down the hall He had grabbed his pen flashlight at the same time as he grabbed his gun and was using it to aid him in his present pursuit. He had to assume that this could all be a false alarm. He certainly could have dreamt the noise. Hell a squirrel or a skunk could have triggered the garage light sensor.
There it is. There it is again he thought.
WHO THE FUCK IS IN HIS HOUSE?
Slowly he proceeded down the staircase. Frank was pissed because the sweat was flowing profusely down his brow. He stopped to wipe his forehead with his pajama sleeve.
There it is again.
HALT. HALT I SAY.
A light, a flicker, a movement.
Pop!!!
Instinctively Frank fired his weapon from the lowest step of the staircase. He fired at the menacing figure in his sights.
Oh my God!!! I just shot Sean!!!
Frank awoke to find himself on the floor in front of his entertainment center. He was covered in perspiration now and quickly found himself to the wall switch and turned on the light.
HOLY JESUS. It was just a dream. Just to make sure he ran upstairs and checked the bureau drawer and sure enough, there was the forty five as well as the flashlight.
Damn I hate that. That moment in the middle of the night where you are sure you have just awakened only to discover that you have simply continued into another dream.
He went back downstairs, since the adrenaline would prevent any sleep in the short term; got to the kitchen, made coffee and settled down in his executive chair for a smoke.
The moral is: keep your eyes open for you know not the day nor the hour.
WHAT THE HELL DAY IS IT ANYWAY?
He pressed the button and the pc appeared. Shortly he was on line. Three AM on the fourteenth. Hell its Monday. What the hell happened to Sunday? And what the hell was he doing on the floor?
Frank got to the office an hour and a half early. When he awoke from his nightmares he always went to work early. Somehow it shook the ghosts from the previous evening out of his inner soul.
He checked his desk and pulled out Monday's file. Sure enough, there were his weekly instructions; a meeting early on and the rest of the day on his company computer. He needed some time off.
Frank approached Sphincter after the meeting.
Sir I need a couple days. I have not been feeling up to snuff lately.
Frank. You are drinking too much. Tell you what. You have 45 days vacation time coming and our new policy is that if you do not use it in the next 15 months it's gone. Things are pretty much under control here.
Clean up your desk and check in with Sean and take off at noon.
See you next week Frank.
Frank got on the phone and set up appointment with Kevin. Kevin was an old undergraduate buddy and his secret physician in Fargo. Frank chose him because Fargo was untraceable. I mean why would anyone check in at Fargo for any reason? Different state altogether, and less predictable as far as tracking down his records than Minneapolis.
Frank really never trusted anyone and that was how he had become a hermit; hell that is why he took a position with a corp in the middle of nowhere. Frank not only distrusted people, he really did not like them.
He cleaned up his paper work and called Sean into his office. Sean would take over his duties for the rest of the week.
Where ya goin Frank? Someplace warm I hope. Ha
Oh I will sally forth to the cities Sean. I have some old girl friends over there and it will be fun to eat out at some of the old restaurants. I will even take in a play and stop and see some old friends at the U.
Sounds like fun. And no drug tests for the next six months. Ha.
Frank bid Sean adieu and went back home to pack. Covered the pc with a special software that only he could crack and hit the road.
He started east just in case he was being followed and took a highway in Minnesota north to Fargo.
The old ghosts, as always, began making their voices heard. He grabbed a stogie from the glove compartment and put Bach into his stereo.
As he reached the outskirts of Fargo Frank stopped at the Hilary. He ordered the seafood platter after knocking down a Martini.
Frank awoke in the hotel across the street, careful to leave his car where it was; in the parking lot of the restaurant. No byes on the DUI's in Fargo. Ha. He cleaned up and went to Kevin's clinic.
Weight, height, BP, blood and urine. The normal protocol for his yearly check in with Kevin.
So how is your ass Frank? Asked id Dr. Kevin as he entered. We playin' poker tonight? And I hope you brought more cash than just for your visit with me, You know, you really have a CEO health care package. Why do you never cash in on that here? Oh, it is the old paranoia is it not?
Frank never used his health insurance for these visits. The records would end up with the insurance company and on Sphincter's desk within the week.
You bet. I never hit casinos anymore Kev unless its with you. But let's take a shuttle this time and get a cab back, ok?
Sounds good. Now the tests will not come back until tomorrow, Jason's a little behind on things. But...
But...what?
How tall are you Frank?
Oh come on Kev. They just measured me.
No, I am serious.
6 with an inch to spare. You know that. It says right there, pointing to the file in the doctor's hand.
5'9" Frank. Here come with me.
They went out of the office and into the hall to the scale and the measurement was taken again....
Frank headed home on Friday using the shorter route and skipping Minnesota this time. Two grand richer via a machine. Hah. He would have been three grand down because of Hold Em had it not been for the machine.
Depression was grabbing him. 48 years old and he had lost four inches in height. Kevin could not explain it.
What about my clothes? My pants fit the same as they did before. He should have cuffs scraping the floor? Shirts fit just fine. And why did he have no problems with his shoes? And the coats and the....
None of this made any sense to Frank. Kevin got the test results back. Everything checked out. But Kevin was upset and took some more blood. He had a buddy at Mayo and was sending the fluid down to Rochester for further testing.
All of a sudden the car stopped. Frank noticed that he was on the old road again; about ten miles from home. He had slowed down because he saw something in the road and pulled over to the shoulder to investigate. It was about thirty degrees, cool even up here for mid October and the stars and moon shown bright. Still no snow. He looked west and saw some shadows moving.
Frank was not heard from for awhile.
The week passed and Sean got to work one minute early. Sean was a little 'anal' that way. NEVER GIVE THE BASTARDS AN EXTRA MINUTE. Well, one minute so there would never be an issue. This all when Sean put in at least eight hours on his pc at home on the weekends and at least eight more during the week.
Sean was a bit of a coward. And of course a control freak. All cowards are control freaks because they must fantasize that they have some control over a universe they know deep down is chaotic. However, except for raucous nights at the castle, his life certainly was one of quiet desperation.
It was noon when Mr. Spincter wandered into his office. Sean you are an acting Super for awhile.
Where's Frank?
We are attempting to discover that. Do you know where he was going last week.
Well he said the Twin Cities, his old haunts. He even spoke of visiting the U.
No, Sean. He never made the Twin Cities.
O my God said Sean. What could have happened to him? O, he might have changed his mind you know. I mean it was a free week. Maybe he did end up going south a ways. I suppose.
Well we have called his cells. His personal and his car phone. Nada. You sure Frank did not mention anything?
No Mr. Sphincter. I mean you have me concerned. I assure you I would not keep anything from you with regards to Frank anyway.
And in regards to anything else Sean?
Holy shite!!! What the hell was I thinking? Okay, gather yourself up boy.
Never mind idiot. Just make sure I get my t-4's and such over the next. Week. And if you hear anything, I WANT TO KNOW IMMEDIATELY. UNDERSTAND?
Understood, sir.
Sean left an hour later than usual that Monday. He was clearly shaken and decided to skip the castle on his way home. Flo had just moved out to live with her mother.
Don't you even want to know why Sean, she had said.
Of course he did not want to know why.
And since he had married rich, it should not cost him anything.
It was dark when he got home. Come on Sparkey, let's take a walk.
Arf. Arf. Sparkey, one of those smaller mutts that looks kind of like a lab came running in.
And Sean almost lost his lunch. Coming at him from the dark kitchen, Sean swore that Sparkey was sparkier than ever. I mean, he positively glowed.
Sparkey glowed blue in the dark. Since it was too late to do anything about it, if in fact anything could be done at all, Sean took his blue pooch out for his normal walk. All Sean could hope for was that the neighbors did not notice the anomaly. Quickly he took the dog to the trail in the wood, safely out of view.
Jesus H. Christ. Even his poop glows in the dark. Yuck.
There's something happenin here and I sure the hell do not know what it is, thought Sean.
Sparky sensed something in the bushes and pulled like crazy on the leash, until his collar broke. The little bugger took off on a start into the bushes, into the dark forest.
Sean took after the pet immediately screaming the nick name that now best described the little canine.
The idiot tripped on a fallen twig. Well Goddamn it all anyway. Hell, I don't even have my flashlight.
Just then Sean saw eight hungry eyes glowing in the dark. Staring straight at him and following him as he stood to leave. That was enough of his walk.
He ran home faster than he had run in a decade. Panting he got into the home. He ran to his little bar and fixed a three finger scotch and sat in the dark on his sofa. He still had not caught his breath and it seemed like seconds rather than fifteen minutes since the fall.
He grabbed the remote and put on a tune.
Take me now, baby, here as I am
Hold me close, and try and understand
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe
Love is a banquet on which we feed
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel when I'm in your hand
Take my hand, come under cover
They can't hurt you now can't hurt
you now, can't hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us [ x2 ]
Have I a doubt, baby when I'm alone
Love is a ring ,a telephone
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed 'til the morning comes
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel, under your command
Take my hand, as the sun descends
They can't touch you now can't touch
you now, can't touch you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
He began to relax, finishing his drink and sinking into the sofa. He happened to look down.
His pants cuff was glowing orange.
NOTHCO
http://stevenmulak.chicopee.com/images/Jennifers%20Clowns.JPG
Hey Frank, you want another beer.
In a bit Sean.
It's Friday Frank. Hell you are Friday Frank.
Yeah yeah...
All right. The others are not even here yet. So what is the matter? Just you and me.
I...I...
Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.
Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.
At least his name is Al. hahahahahaha
There ya go Frank. A little yuck yuck.
All right Sean. Look. You are just a floor manager. I have to keep charge of the entire third floor and coordinate with the second.
Oh good, another briefing Frank. That's what I need. Another briefing.
Do you wish to know from whence my angst arose or not?
Go ahead, Sean said as the maid brought over the two new pints. Sean loved this place. Out in the middle of the plains. Nothing all around and here is this beautiful structure...looked like a castle. And the pints. Hey, English pints. The middle of the Plains and here was an English Ale House.
Well...Sean you must promise never to tell this to anyone. There is a fourth floor. I found out today.
What the hell?
Yeah. Go outside. Look at the damn building. And yet, I saw it. I was in a hurry and the second elevator is out so I run to the stairway on the WEST END. I never thought about it. And after I got through the door to the stairway I saw a door on my left inside it. But it was ajar. So I stopped and peeked in and there was a short stairway UP THE DAMN STAIRS. Someone must have fuck up and left the door open. Anyway I quietly found my way up about seven steps and came to another door. I opened it and there was an entire floor. Filled with desks and computers and twenty people scurrying around.
Only these people were strange. They were short. I mean, like under five feet tall. At least it looked like that from my perspective. And they were all wet from perspiration. And I swear they were all speaking a different language.
Stop. Stop this Frank. This is not even that funny. I mean its kind of funny but....if anybody else heard this, well you might find yourself in trouble.
All right. Time for Karioke I suppose. And with that Frank stopped his ranting in its track and they sang and spoke of beer maids and Ale Masters......
But Sean kept thinking about this as he drove home. Driving home was always a challenge. There were only two patrolmen in the area and it was common knowledge that between eleven and midnight no one would bother him on hwy 46. He had the radio on playing Cream. And he thought about the midgets.
There had been a late night business meeting on Tuesday and he ran into the parking ramp to get his car. He could never forget that night. Eight, maybe ten really short people were entering this minivan. It was like one of those stunts at the circus he used to see when he was a kid. The little clowns coming out of the little car. Sean had always been afraid of clowns. There is actually a clinical term for it.
Sean reached for a doobie in the glove compartment, shaking.
Frank awoke at home with his usual hangover. His wife had left more than a year ago and took everything but the dog. He had slowly procured a bed and a sofa and his 'man's chair' along with his great entertainment corner. One thing about being in the middle of nowhere was that there were cheap homes to be had. And with satellites he had the computer and TV with all the entertainment anybody could find anywhere. NORTHCO had built this housing project that contained a nice pond and even a nine hole golf course. Was not a building in the entire project built before 95. A series of wind turbines together with solar panels on all the structures provided over fifty per cent of all his energy needs.
But the seclusion and the secrecy and the stench from the cess pool in the summer was getting to Frank. The MONEY WAS SOOOOOO GOOOOD THOUGH. And since his living expenses were so low, especially with the advent of the divorce that he just could not think of leaving.
But work. NORTHCO was the strangest outfit he had ever worked for. He had been in the Twin Cities for fifteen years before coming here. And it was getting close to his tenth anniversary here.
An accounting degree and an MBA from his state university. Top grades. Worked for the old Northwest Banks in various capacities. Dealt in bonds, stocks, warrants...even some European inventions.
Ten years AND HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT THE HELL NORTHCO DID.
He threw three eggs in the blender along with some mozaralla and some salt and pepper careful to add some hot sauce and threw the jumbled mess in a pan and then went ahead a grabbed a Sam Adams.That was another strange thing about his employer. He hardly ever was called in to work on Saturday and never Sunday. I mean there were some fourteen hour days once in a great while, like the one on Tuesday.
But his actual job really was hard to describe. Turning the mess over in the pan and adding a cover he took the beer to his 'station' and turned on the pc. He had installed this gem all on his lonesome and nobody really knew he had it. The PC had one of those ears you plugged in and was separate from his entertainment set up.
The billing went to a debit card for an account he had kept in a small bank in Minneapolis for twenty five years. The only place the billing would ever be seen would be at that bank and in the pc. Just because my week ends are free does not mean I am not going to keep busy he thought, taking another swig of Sam.
Oh the damn eggs...ah just in time Frank thought as he looked at the pretty omelet. He had forgotten to toss some cut up green peppers and onions into the pan, but it looooooooooked good. He quickly grabbed a begal with some peanut butter on it and brought his breakfast plate to his secret station. He brought up his working paper on Word along with his diagrams. As he took another swig of Adams, the thought crossed his mind that the booze might be the reason that in ten years HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT HE DID FOR A LIVING. HA!!!
Looking at the schematic, on the third Word tab, he began adding the fourth floor that did not exist while munching on his omelet. He then cross referenced the dimensions of the building from the architectural plans with his estimates of the size of each floor. He pulled up the floor plans and reexamined them.
Damn, there was room for another floor or at least attic eight feet high. There it was the entire time.
But another thought struck him as he grabbed his coffee and a smoke after tossing the breakfast dishes in the sink. Part of his job had been to work with the procurement officer, Mr. Sphincter. Geeez where do you get a name like that and here we are in the twenty first century and that sphincter would not even use his first name.
Anyway, sucking on his poison stick, Frank had already demonstrated in his working paper that paper and staples and all sorts of supplies seemed out of whack; thirty percent too high. Frank had arrived a full two years after the structure had been built. And he knew about the discrepancies in the supply area but he always figured that sphincter or someone higher up was picking up a couple extra bucks on the side. He had seen this type of activity before and had just figured it had nothing to do with his job description. I mean he never actually entered any false figures on reports or such.
But the little people. He never recalled seeing little people at the Walfart where he purchased all his groceries and drugs and everything else he needed. He paid the project contractor for snow removal and such. So Frank barely had a shovel for years although he finally got a good machine since everyone else had one. He even put a Santa on the front stoop for show.
But where were Santa's elves? I mean where the hell were they? Again, the office, the English Ale House and the Walfart. God what a life. Despondency grabbed at him but he went for his sweet French Roast refill anyway. Grabbing another smoke....
He reviewed his list of duties again like he did every Saturday Morning. He worked closely with payroll. He did background checks on new employees although they were rare which led to another question. I mean, why was there hardly any turnover?
He made sure t-4's were filed every day, and on time. He cross referenced payroll with......
But there were no little people. I mean 1,456 employees and 1,456 checks. Every two weeks, no matter what. Thirty people had been replaced since he got there...but they had all died. Snowmobiling, cars, skiing...there were enough ways to kill yourself in the middle of nowhere.
Frank was sure he knew everyone. Slowly, with all that time on his hands he had collected all the profiles of all the employees and posted it onto his secret pc. After all these years he KNEW all the employees really.
But what exactly was NORTHCO's product?I mean he worked all the time on the investment side of things. Always brought back at least a ten percent net profit on all investments.
There were those huge vats, barrels of stuff that would roll out of NORTHCO and the empty barrels that would return.
There was the 'factory area' where he never went; was not allowed inside really. That stuff was in the basement. And the trucks that picked up the 'stuff' all headed north.
He did not give a damn about politics; kind of despised those green folks. But speaking of green folks, he did see those purple deer that one time on the way home. And there were those two beavers on the pond with two tails. Oh, and that entire stretch of highway that was shut down one week end when an new one was opened. He had driven home drunk one night, missed the curve and found himself on the old road. This blight had hit the forest on one side, the north side of the old road. Webs, strange webs were handing off leafless trees. After pondering this puzzle the next morning, Frank kind of put it out of his mind since he had tasted of Sean's weed that night before anyway.
Oh and Bernice from accounting had complained that her hands glowed in the dark from time to time but Frank just figured that she was getting too friendly with Sean's 'supplier'.
Why had Frank never worried about NORTHCO's actual 'product'. Well the money really. The fact that Frank really did not like people. He did not miss 'the busy downtown'. He did not miss the fine dining or dancing available in a big city. He could watch any movie or play he wished on his entertainment center.
Frank could kind of be a hermit when he was not at work. Hell at work he seldom had to be with any people really. He could just stay in his office facing the outside window and reading meaningless messages on his company pc. And that was okay for him.
While pondering his meaningless existence, there came a knock at the door. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?
Collecting himself, Frank shut his secret pc down, pushing the button to hide machine. He opened the door and there was Sean.
All right then, you can come in but do not speak too much. The elves have been dancing.
Sean snickered, begged for some French Roast and they sat on the four season porch watching the squirrels and such.
Frank, I am much troubled. Troubled by what you spoke of last night at the ale house. No no no, do not shush me. I got to get something off my chest Frank.
When I was very young, four or five years of age...grandma Thompson took me and my no good brother to the circus. And I was much afeared about the lions and tigers and totally awed by the near naked ladies in tights on those high swings. And then, just as I was feeling the effects from some bad hot dogs that grandma got us, out comes this little tiny car. And out of this little car all these midget clowns got out, one by one by one.......and it never stopped. And I had the worst nightmares about it. I still have a bad dream once in awhile to this day. And I have to tell you. Last Tuesday, I went down to get my car and there were all these little people, a lot like the clowns in my dreams. And they were getting into this minivan. And they just kept piling in the van. And I got sick to my stomach just watching all this.
And then you Frank, this fourth floor. Well there is this Bernice in accounting and she and some of her friends will talk about the fourth floor from time to time. I thought it was some joke they heard on SNL or something. Like that Malkovitch movie...you know the one with Cusack. Even I started joking about it recently when Lawson, the VP overheard and called me over. He had objections to joking on company time. This bothers me much Frank.
Just look at those three happy squirrels over there Sean; some beautiful country out there.
Just then the three squirrels turned toward them. Only it was only one squirrel with six feet and three tails; and it appeared to be snarling at the two. In the background from the porch, both could hear the entertainment center. Singing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rA6YXuagiuU
Hey Frank, you want another beer.
In a bit Sean.
It's Friday Frank. Hell you are Friday Frank.
Yeah yeah...
All right. The others are not even here yet. So what is the matter? Just you and me.
I...I...
Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.
Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.
At least his name is Al. hahahahahaha
There ya go Frank. A little yuck yuck.
All right Sean. Look. You are just a floor manager. I have to keep charge of the entire third floor and coordinate with the second.
Oh good, another briefing Frank. That's what I need. Another briefing.
Do you wish to know from whence my angst arose or not?
Go ahead, Sean said as the maid brought over the two new pints. Sean loved this place. Out in the middle of the plains. Nothing all around and here is this beautiful structure...looked like a castle. And the pints. Hey, English pints. The middle of the Plains and here was an English Ale House.
Well...Sean you must promise never to tell this to anyone. There is a fourth floor. I found out today.
What the hell?
Yeah. Go outside. Look at the damn building. And yet, I saw it. I was in a hurry and the second elevator is out so I run to the stairway on the WEST END. I never thought about it. And after I got through the door to the stairway I saw a door on my left inside it. But it was ajar. So I stopped and peeked in and there was a short stairway UP THE DAMN STAIRS. Someone must have fuck up and left the door open. Anyway I quietly found my way up about seven steps and came to another door. I opened it and there was an entire floor. Filled with desks and computers and twenty people scurrying around.
Only these people were strange. They were short. I mean, like under five feet tall. At least it looked like that from my perspective. And they were all wet from perspiration. And I swear they were all speaking a different language.
Stop. Stop this Frank. This is not even that funny. I mean its kind of funny but....if anybody else heard this, well you might find yourself in trouble.
All right. Time for Karioke I suppose. And with that Frank stopped his ranting in its track and they sang and spoke of beer maids and Ale Masters......
But Sean kept thinking about this as he drove home. Driving home was always a challenge. There were only two patrolmen in the area and it was common knowledge that between eleven and midnight no one would bother him on hwy 46. He had the radio on playing Cream. And he thought about the midgets.
There had been a late night business meeting on Tuesday and he ran into the parking ramp to get his car. He could never forget that night. Eight, maybe ten really short people were entering this minivan. It was like one of those stunts at the circus he used to see when he was a kid. The little clowns coming out of the little car. Sean had always been afraid of clowns. There is actually a clinical term for it.
Sean reached for a doobie in the glove compartment, shaking.
Frank awoke at home with his usual hangover. His wife had left more than a year ago and took everything but the dog. He had slowly procured a bed and a sofa and his 'man's chair' along with his great entertainment corner. One thing about being in the middle of nowhere was that there were cheap homes to be had. And with satellites he had the computer and TV with all the entertainment anybody could find anywhere. NORTHCO had built this housing project that contained a nice pond and even a nine hole golf course. Was not a building in the entire project built before 95. A series of wind turbines together with solar panels on all the structures provided over fifty per cent of all his energy needs.
But the seclusion and the secrecy and the stench from the cess pool in the summer was getting to Frank. The MONEY WAS SOOOOOO GOOOOD THOUGH. And since his living expenses were so low, especially with the advent of the divorce that he just could not think of leaving.
But work. NORTHCO was the strangest outfit he had ever worked for. He had been in the Twin Cities for fifteen years before coming here. And it was getting close to his tenth anniversary here.
An accounting degree and an MBA from his state university. Top grades. Worked for the old Northwest Banks in various capacities. Dealt in bonds, stocks, warrants...even some European inventions.
Ten years AND HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT THE HELL NORTHCO DID.
He threw three eggs in the blender along with some mozaralla and some salt and pepper careful to add some hot sauce and threw the jumbled mess in a pan and then went ahead a grabbed a Sam Adams.That was another strange thing about his employer. He hardly ever was called in to work on Saturday and never Sunday. I mean there were some fourteen hour days once in a great while, like the one on Tuesday.
But his actual job really was hard to describe. Turning the mess over in the pan and adding a cover he took the beer to his 'station' and turned on the pc. He had installed this gem all on his lonesome and nobody really knew he had it. The PC had one of those ears you plugged in and was separate from his entertainment set up.
The billing went to a debit card for an account he had kept in a small bank in Minneapolis for twenty five years. The only place the billing would ever be seen would be at that bank and in the pc. Just because my week ends are free does not mean I am not going to keep busy he thought, taking another swig of Sam.
Oh the damn eggs...ah just in time Frank thought as he looked at the pretty omelet. He had forgotten to toss some cut up green peppers and onions into the pan, but it looooooooooked good. He quickly grabbed a begal with some peanut butter on it and brought his breakfast plate to his secret station. He brought up his working paper on Word along with his diagrams. As he took another swig of Adams, the thought crossed his mind that the booze might be the reason that in ten years HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT HE DID FOR A LIVING. HA!!!
Looking at the schematic, on the third Word tab, he began adding the fourth floor that did not exist while munching on his omelet. He then cross referenced the dimensions of the building from the architectural plans with his estimates of the size of each floor. He pulled up the floor plans and reexamined them.
Damn, there was room for another floor or at least attic eight feet high. There it was the entire time.
But another thought struck him as he grabbed his coffee and a smoke after tossing the breakfast dishes in the sink. Part of his job had been to work with the procurement officer, Mr. Sphincter. Geeez where do you get a name like that and here we are in the twenty first century and that sphincter would not even use his first name.
Anyway, sucking on his poison stick, Frank had already demonstrated in his working paper that paper and staples and all sorts of supplies seemed out of whack; thirty percent too high. Frank had arrived a full two years after the structure had been built. And he knew about the discrepancies in the supply area but he always figured that sphincter or someone higher up was picking up a couple extra bucks on the side. He had seen this type of activity before and had just figured it had nothing to do with his job description. I mean he never actually entered any false figures on reports or such.
But the little people. He never recalled seeing little people at the Walfart where he purchased all his groceries and drugs and everything else he needed. He paid the project contractor for snow removal and such. So Frank barely had a shovel for years although he finally got a good machine since everyone else had one. He even put a Santa on the front stoop for show.
But where were Santa's elves? I mean where the hell were they? Again, the office, the English Ale House and the Walfart. God what a life. Despondency grabbed at him but he went for his sweet French Roast refill anyway. Grabbing another smoke....
He reviewed his list of duties again like he did every Saturday Morning. He worked closely with payroll. He did background checks on new employees although they were rare which led to another question. I mean, why was there hardly any turnover?
He made sure t-4's were filed every day, and on time. He cross referenced payroll with......
But there were no little people. I mean 1,456 employees and 1,456 checks. Every two weeks, no matter what. Thirty people had been replaced since he got there...but they had all died. Snowmobiling, cars, skiing...there were enough ways to kill yourself in the middle of nowhere.
Frank was sure he knew everyone. Slowly, with all that time on his hands he had collected all the profiles of all the employees and posted it onto his secret pc. After all these years he KNEW all the employees really.
But what exactly was NORTHCO's product?I mean he worked all the time on the investment side of things. Always brought back at least a ten percent net profit on all investments.
There were those huge vats, barrels of stuff that would roll out of NORTHCO and the empty barrels that would return.
There was the 'factory area' where he never went; was not allowed inside really. That stuff was in the basement. And the trucks that picked up the 'stuff' all headed north.
He did not give a damn about politics; kind of despised those green folks. But speaking of green folks, he did see those purple deer that one time on the way home. And there were those two beavers on the pond with two tails. Oh, and that entire stretch of highway that was shut down one week end when an new one was opened. He had driven home drunk one night, missed the curve and found himself on the old road. This blight had hit the forest on one side, the north side of the old road. Webs, strange webs were handing off leafless trees. After pondering this puzzle the next morning, Frank kind of put it out of his mind since he had tasted of Sean's weed that night before anyway.
Oh and Bernice from accounting had complained that her hands glowed in the dark from time to time but Frank just figured that she was getting too friendly with Sean's 'supplier'.
Why had Frank never worried about NORTHCO's actual 'product'. Well the money really. The fact that Frank really did not like people. He did not miss 'the busy downtown'. He did not miss the fine dining or dancing available in a big city. He could watch any movie or play he wished on his entertainment center.
Frank could kind of be a hermit when he was not at work. Hell at work he seldom had to be with any people really. He could just stay in his office facing the outside window and reading meaningless messages on his company pc. And that was okay for him.
While pondering his meaningless existence, there came a knock at the door. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?
Collecting himself, Frank shut his secret pc down, pushing the button to hide machine. He opened the door and there was Sean.
All right then, you can come in but do not speak too much. The elves have been dancing.
Sean snickered, begged for some French Roast and they sat on the four season porch watching the squirrels and such.
Frank, I am much troubled. Troubled by what you spoke of last night at the ale house. No no no, do not shush me. I got to get something off my chest Frank.
When I was very young, four or five years of age...grandma Thompson took me and my no good brother to the circus. And I was much afeared about the lions and tigers and totally awed by the near naked ladies in tights on those high swings. And then, just as I was feeling the effects from some bad hot dogs that grandma got us, out comes this little tiny car. And out of this little car all these midget clowns got out, one by one by one.......and it never stopped. And I had the worst nightmares about it. I still have a bad dream once in awhile to this day. And I have to tell you. Last Tuesday, I went down to get my car and there were all these little people, a lot like the clowns in my dreams. And they were getting into this minivan. And they just kept piling in the van. And I got sick to my stomach just watching all this.
And then you Frank, this fourth floor. Well there is this Bernice in accounting and she and some of her friends will talk about the fourth floor from time to time. I thought it was some joke they heard on SNL or something. Like that Malkovitch movie...you know the one with Cusack. Even I started joking about it recently when Lawson, the VP overheard and called me over. He had objections to joking on company time. This bothers me much Frank.
Just look at those three happy squirrels over there Sean; some beautiful country out there.
Just then the three squirrels turned toward them. Only it was only one squirrel with six feet and three tails; and it appeared to be snarling at the two. In the background from the porch, both could hear the entertainment center. Singing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rA6YXuagiuU
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
