Being as bored as could be, I did what a lot of guys do. I slowly slid my hand into.......

*RINGGGG* Phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi Mom."

"Yes...I am fine. You?"

"That's good.

"Okay....Be safe on your drive to church. Bye."

Where was I? Oh.....I slide my hand in slowly. It feels so good.

*RINGGGG* Damn phone.

"Hello?"

"Yes dear."

"Yes dear."

"Love you too. Bye."

Uhhh....Oh yeah...I slide my hand in slowly. Gee this feels good. I think I should oil it up. I squeeze it gently.

*RINGGG, RINGGG* I wonder if the phone would bounce well?

"What?"

"Did you ask your Mom?"

"Well, what did she say?"

"Ask Dad? What if I told you to ask Mom?"

"Oh....I did? Okay.....go ahead and go, but don't be out too late."

"Love you too. Bye."

Crap.....what was I do.....Oh yeah. I slide my hand in again. It is so soft and comfortable. Love this feeling. I think about oil again.....Nawww.....I will do the oil thing later.

*RINGGGG* Screw this.

I slide my hand out of my ball glove, grab the ball and head for the door.

*RINGGG*

"Come on Bohdi. I will toss the ball and you can fetch."

This was my entry for A. Mac's and Sara G.'s contest, before trimming it down:

http://immaginedigitalimag.newsvine.com/_news/2010/03/08/3906151-sara-g-a-mac-showcase-newsvine-authors-at-their-best-our-first-group-of-winners?last=1268104722&threadId=809322&sp=0&pc=25#last_1

You should seriously check out the articles on that link. Some are great......and there is this one:

The picture for inspiration is here:

http://immaginedigitalimag.newsvine.com/_news/2010/02/14/3871187-a-labor-of-love-we-hope-so-and-what-better-day-than-valentines-day-to-present-sara-g-a-macs-authors-competition

Thank you A. Mac for such a wonderful picture. Thank you Sara and A. Mac for thsi writing opportunity.

My Story:

It was our first vacation in ten years and we were on our third night on the boat. It was late, the water was calm and the lights gently reflected off the water in the bay where we were anchored. My wife poured herself another margarita as I sipped on mine. We had already finished three pitchers and were both just the other side of tipsy. I had already spilled a glass on the deck and my wife had laughed and called it alcohol abuse.

I watched my beautiful bride of 15 years, in her bright pink bikini. She was wearing a swim suit that would be a felony to wear in some countries (and three states), as she slugged a big gulp down and got this mischievous look in her eyes. Setting her glass down, she then reached behind her back and I watched as her top fell to the deck. Her eyes were twinkling with intent and her mouth was in a grin that spoke volumes. She lightly bites the corner of her lower lip. Then, she slowly slid her hands down her sides and hooked her fingers into the edges of her bikini bottoms and slipped them off.

The bikini had already gotten my attention - did I mention it would have been considered a felony in some countries and a few states? The twinkle in her eyes had double it and now her intentions had given me some of my own. Not wasting time, I stood, set my glass down and undid the buttons of my short pants (I wasn’t wearing a shirt or underwear) and let them drop to my ankles.

I had just started wondering why we had not taken more vacations, if this was how they play out, when suddenly, before my pants even hit the deck, there was a flash of fur that skittered past my leg. Needless to say, being two and a half sheets to the wind, I jumped and bumped open the cabinet holding the emergency inflatable raft. It started rolling across the deck.

Genghis Khan, my wife’s Jack Russell quickly snatched her top, turned and ran towards me. “Get him!” My wife yelled, “That’s a $100 bikini!”

Still being off balance, full of margarita’s and pants around my ankles; I made the mistake of trying to run after him.

I tripped and did a belly flop straight onto the wood deck. This was followed by my glass of Margarita tipping over the edge and pouring over my head.

Khan ran past me as I grabbed at the fur bag and missed. I heard my wife yell some obscenity at the over energized pouch and turned my head in her direction. I saw my wife’s legs jumping over my head as she went after our lovable, but too playful dog. I turned my head in time to see her hit the spot where I had dropped my drink earlier. Here was my wife, naked as a jay bird legs running in reverse and losing ground as her legs went up in the air. She went flying. Her bare butt hit the deck, but she just kept sliding. I found myself thinking that Margaritas make good lubricant as my wife slipped over the edge of the boat straight into the water!

Khan ran towards her and the top (being half a felony, would that make it a misdemeanor?) it got hooked in the emergency life raft. Khan did not go too far. The top stretched out and yanked Khan back in the opposite direction. The look on his face was humorous as he shot past my head and over the edge into the water! It was like Road Runner and Willy E. Coyote scene come to life. The dog had actually hung there in mid-air for a second before falling straight down.

The life raft jumped to life as it inflated and started pushing me back. I figured I was the next one who was going in and I jumped to my feet, yanked off my shorts and escaped the inevitable.

My eyes searched the dark surface for signs of the dog or my wife when I finally saw she was trying to get to Khan. I quickly leaped over the side and started swimming towards the two of them. If skinny dipping was what my wife had in mind, I somehow doubt it was planned to to turn out this way.

It was at this time that I noticed several boats heading towards us! Then it dawned on me that the emergency raft had an automatic emergency beacon. So, there we were, naked as jay birds, ships bearing down on us and no time or chance to get back on board.

Next vacation......the dog stays home.

After retiring from the USAF, I worked for a few years and then returned to college. I wasn't an ordinary student. Most students belonged to organizations such as Sigma Delta Pi, I belonged to the PTA.

The year had been a tough one. My sister had lost her home in the May 3rd, 1999 tornado that devastated Oklahoma City, my father was diagnosed as having liver cancer and I was carrying a full college load while working. December rolled around and when finals week reared its ugly head, I was notified that my Father only had days.

I had already finished some of my finals, but in two classes I had to take "i's" (incomplete) to go to my father who was 200 miles away. I loaded the family up and left.

Our Christmas tree was up, but we took the few gifts we had and put them in the car. Christmas was less then a week away, but Dad's funeral was the day before Christmas Eve. I was devastated, but tried to be strong for my siblings, my mother and my children. Even my wife was extremely upset at my Father's passing. He had been a good man to all of us.

I spent the days bringing things together and making arrangements for the funeral. Many of the items had been done by my Uncles, but I did many others myself. I found a Military Color Guard and managed to get them to come and honor my Father who had served for 21 years in the USAF. My wife and I bought a family wreath and we helped to pick out a head stone. I wrote a eulogy and gave it before the funeral to my father's church.

Preparing for a funeral is not what most do during this time year. Yet, Christmas shopping seemed to be minor for us. We did sneak away for a short time and purchased our children a Nintendo game system. We all knew Christmas would be sparse that year.

After the funeral, we stayed with my mother and helped her around the house taking care of things that Dad had not managed to finish. We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her so that she would not be alone. My younger sister and her Family, my brother and my older Sister and her family all stayed through Christmas. Then we went home late Christmas Day.

Driving home in the dark I was very somber. My Children had not had a very good Christmas. We had spent much of our Christmas money on the trip and the funeral. They had lost their only living grandfather and I had lost my father. It was a four hour trip of deep sorrow and regret.

Finally, we arrived home and as I parked the car, I noticed the front door was wide open. I asked my wife if she had any idea why it would be open and she didn't. I got out and slowly walked to the door. I looked in and all the lights were off. I opened the storm door and called for the dogs. They all came running.

The fact the dogs were alright and knowing that Austin would have attacked anyone he did not know within the house (which had done before) lead me to believe it was alright to enter. I walked in and keeping Austin by my side, I walked through the house. I checked the bedrooms first, then the kitchen and finally the living room.

When I hit the switch for the living room the Christmas tree lights came on and I was stunned.

Sitting under and around the tree was numerous gifts all wrapped up. I was amazed. We had taken all of the gifts we had with us.

I walked over to them and checked the tags. They were all address in typewritten tags that had my children's names on them. A few were to my wife and a few were to me.

Need less to say, I was stunned. I stood up and walked outside to my family and told them it was all clear. Then, I told them they all needed to go to the living room.

When we walked in, I noticed a white envelope that I had missed earlier. Opening it, it read:

Years ago, I heard that you had played Santa to a child in your town whose parents were going through a hard time. You bought them toys and left them Christmas Night on her family's porch.

You signed the letter Santa and never told anyone.

Having heard of the problems you had this Christmas, I needed to do this. Sorry, I broke in.

Love,

Santa

I remembered having done what the letter accused me of. It was several years earlier before I was married. Yet, I had not told anyone except for a friend who had died the following year.

To this day I have no idea who broke in and left all the gifts. I have no idea who knew about my gift giving that Christmas Night so long ago or why they felt I should be repaid. The gifts helped my children to have a better Christmas and is a gift of love that I will never forget.

Perhaps there is a Santa Clause. Perhaps he lives in each of us.

MY CHRISTMAS POEM

Twas two days before Christmas,

And I gather the gifts,

I had to wrap all,

And I had to move quick.

I grabbed all the tape,

The boxes and bows,

Ran to my room,

But then stubbed my toe.

I yelped and hopped,

And jumped down the hall,

I only fell once,

But that was not small!

As I jumped to my feet,

The ribbon got caught,

And it got all tangled,

Around my knees in a knot!

I fought for my balance,

But let go of the bows,

They sprinkled about,

Just like they were snow!

As I lunged forward,

The paper then fell,

The Scotch tape unrolled,

And I thought, "What the hell?"

I bounced off the wall,

And then I did slip,

The tape started sticking,

And next thing I flipped!

I fell in the paper,

The ribbon and bows,

The tape made it stick,

And a Bow hit my nose!

I twisted in pain,

And rolled on my back,

Next thing I knew,

I was wrapped like a sack!

I waited until,

My wife found me there,

Wrapped all in paper,

And bows in my hair!

She gently unwrapped me,

Then gave me a kiss,

Then quickly told me,

I was her greatest gift!

My ego was saved,

And this I declare,

Next year it's Pro-wrappers,

Get my business I swear!

Merry Christmas Everyone! I hope you enjoyed my poem.

This is my entry for this Scott Butki Challenge.

"RITA!" I yelled. Yet, I knew Rita could not hear me. Only other plants can hear a rose screaming, but I had to try.

The tile was cold as ice and I felt it numbing my pedals. I didn't mind. The cold actually made the itching of my pedals feel better.

"RITA! Get your pen thingy. Hurry!" I cried.

Rita was already barely breathing and now she had gone down on all fours and was crawling.

"My God, she isn't going to make it." I thought as I watched her collapse to the tile.

Now, she laid there next to me and was turning blue.

"Damn bee!" I screamed at the bug lying on the floor. "You didn't have to sting her."

I laid there watching, unable to do anything as the life seeped out of her. A darkness came over her as her breathing became shallow.

I had spent my whole life growing in hopes of being given to a lover by a lover. My brother wanted to be part of a center piece, but I had higher hopes. This was not something I had ever wanted to be a part of. What flower in their right mind - and I am not talking about Mum's, because we all know they are never in their right mind - would want to be a witness to a murder.

I suddenly saw a shadow at the door and my hopes began to build as the door slowly opened.

"You?" I thought. The very reason I was in this situation was standing at the door.

He had met Rita when she had given him a parking ticket. In return he had thanked her and asked her out for tea. Rita had fallen for him, because he was nice and accepted the fact that he was wrong.

She went out with him that evening and this morning he had placed me at her door.

He looked down and saw her lying there. She slowly lifted her arm toward him and then her arm fell back to the cold tile.

Without a word he started yanking open drawers and looking. He moved quickly from one drawer to the next and then stopped and looked around the room. I knew what he was looking for.

He rushed to the other side of the room and yanked open the closet door. He stepped inside. I heard him rustle around a bit. Then he rushed out and came up to me and Rita.

Kneeling down he took her hand and spoke.

"Rita, I am so sorry that I had to do this." He said and held up her pink copy of the ticket she had given him.

"Remember the man who died of a heart attack yesterday? I did that job and you were the only one who can place me there." He stuffed the pink copy into his pocket and held the Epy pen thingy up as if to show her. Then he laid it just out of her reach.

"Getting that bee into that flower was very difficult. Yet, after that dance you did last night to avoid that bee and then your disclosure of the allergy...well, let's say you left me with the perfect solution."

I head out the door on my way to another doctor's appointment at the VA . Back out, drive down the road and turn on Lindsey Street next to the car wash. From there I am one stop light from I-35.

As I hit the highway, the conversations begin.

"It's called merge for a reason." I tell the guy in front me as he drives to the end of the ramp and pulls on at the last minute forcing a another vehicle to either hit them or pull into the other lane.

"Dude, you hold that finger up to dry the boogies?" I ask the man who just got forced over.

"Do you drive 35 in the fast lane, because your 840 years old or do you just love to piss people off?" I say as I pass the driver on the right.

"Okay, we can all go a little fast.........OH! Hello Mr. Policeman. Slow down, slow down, how fast am I going? OH! Crap!"

"Whew! Go get 'em Mr. Policeman."

"LOOK OUT JACK ASS! Gheez, It's called a turn signal use it! I would have let you in."

"He he! Speed on Duddette, Mr Policeman is wait.....Oh sorry Dude, thought you were a dudette."

"What's all the tail lights for? Come on folks, I have an appointment. OH GHEEZ! Where's a cop when you need one? DUDE, you could have killed someone doing that."

"Yeah, I would honk too if some A.H. cut me off."

"Does your mother know what you do with that finger?"

"Whoa! If you only drove as pretty as you look you would have it made."

I finally make it, Do the Doctor B.S. and head for home with similar conversations.

"Yeah, I was an idiot at 16 too, but I didn't drive like I was trying to prove it."

"Bang your head anymore and it might come off."

"Go get 'em Grandpa! At that speed they will put you up for a very long time in the local jail."

"Yeah, and you drive like your from Texas too."

"Come on Kansas, this is not a farm, its a highway. Get out of the way........OH......Hello Mr. Policeman. Thanks Kansas."

I finally get home and when I walk in my wife says, "How was the traffic?"

"Not bad." I say and she just smiles as if she knows something I don't.

This is my entry for Scott's Random Words Writing Challenge:

http://sbutki.newsvine.com/_news/2009/09/15/3274026-random-words-exercise-septoct-2009

The elderly man lying in front of me sucked on his oxygen and then pulled the mask aside as his eyes turned in my direction.

"Albert Einstein, Max. Albert Einstein." He said in a horse, but hushed voice.

He had been like this for days. I guess, as he drew near the end he was suffering from dementia. Still, I hated to see my grandfather so discombobulated, but I refused to let him be alone as the end drew near.

"Max, write it down my boy. You must write it down." He said. His face was more serious then I had ever seen it. Yet, it was tinged with a touch of obnoxious pain.

Pulling out the list I had started days before hand, I added it to the list.

"Read it back." He softly said.

"The whole list?" I asked. His eyes widened and he nodded as if his entire life depended on what was written.

"George Carlin, Barbara Walters, Eddie Murphy and Albert Einstein." I read out loud.

"What about the quotes?" He asked. He seemed almost ecstatic that I had gotten all of the names right. So, I continued reading. "Friends are like roses…you have to watch out for the pricks. Author unknown." I said.

"Excellent, my boy. That is what you tell the man in the picture." Grandpa Chester replied.

"What man in what picture?" It was same question I had asked several times over the past few days.

"Watch the video. But remember, he will reply with, 'In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. John Lennon and Paul McCartney.'"

"What video is that, Grandpa?"

"You have all the answers in the list, Max."

"Splendid. Sometimes talking to you is like talking to an Ouija board." I thought to myself. But they were words I would never say out loud. Not to Chester.

"What about the other two quotes, Grandpa?" I asked, but my Grandfather had fallen off to sleep even with the beeping of the heart monitor next to his bed.

I walked into the next room to take a break and noticed the video cabinet that was next to the TV. I opened it in hopes of finding something I could watch while Chester slept.

There were only three videos in the huge case and I found it funny that my Grandfather would be so extravagant as to buy a cabinet that would easily hold one-hundred tapes and then only use it for three.

As I picked up the first one, the title caught my eye. "George Carlin – Scuttlebutt, What the….." I read out loud.

I grabbed the next one and read it, "Eddie Murphy – Glock."

The next one said, "Barbara Walters – Ecstatic."

I looked around the cabinet, wondering why there was no tape of Albert Einstein with some random word behind his name.

I had no idea of what they could mean or even if I was supposed to watch them all. Yet, I figured that would.

I turned on the VCR and TV and slide the tape into place. I had always wondered why Grandpa had never gotten a DVD machine or DVR and wondered if these tapes might have had something to do with it.

Soon, I saw Eddie Murphy doing a routine and I turned up the volume. I could here a strange sound in the background of the tape. As I listened it became clearer and was over powering the comedian's stage act. I realized that it was a music note and from my days in a band, I was quickly able to tell it was an E-flat.

Suddenly, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. As I turned to my left, I saw that a panel on the wall had opened.

Behind the panel was a key pad that was made up of alphabetical digits.

I grew more intrigued and it dawned on me that Chester may not have been as senile as I had first thought. Yet, there were so many unknowns about everything that still did not make sense. What about the man, what about the list and what was the key pad for?

I wondered why the title had included the word "Glock" and after some thought I went to the key pad and punched in G. L. O. C. K. Above the and to the right of the keypad was a row of three darkened lights. The middle one turned green.

I quickly removed the second tape and inserted the Barbara Walters tape. It was similar, but sounded like it was B-Flat. The first position of the three lights turned red. When I punched in the word Ecstatic it flashed to a green. The third tape was a musical note G and the word Scuttlebutt turned the red light green.

I heard a click and a second panel opened. There inside were two small boxes.

I removed the box and carried it into my Granddad's room. He was laying there awake and when he saw what I had in my hand he smiled.

"Max, you must first finish the list." He said in a serious tone. I pulled out the list and waited with pen in hand.

"Write this quote. It is by Martin Luther King. 'I submit to you that if a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live.' When he says this you must respond with this quote by Albert Einstein. 'Only one who devotes himself to a cause with his whole strength and soul can be a true master. For this reason mastery demands all of a person.' You have that?"

"Yes sir."

"Now open the cherry red wood box first."

I slowly pulled the lid up and saw an odd three dimensional picture. I reached in and my finger went into the photo. I jerked back as if I had been bite. It had tingled at first and then felt as if it were pulling on my whole arm.

I looked inside and the picture looked liked a white haired man in a white coat.

I started to ask him what was going on when I heard a noise behind me. Turning, I saw a man in a long white coat. His hair was even whiter. I dropped the boxes and they clattered to the ground.

"Who…"

"The quote Max, say the quote!" Grandpa yelled.

I looked at my old grandfather and then back at the man. I mumbled the quote and the man responded with the other. Then he gave me the last quote my grandfather had given me and I responded with what my grandpa had told me to.

He reached out his hand as if to handshake and I reciprocated. As he shook my hand he held out a device that looked like a remote control. I took it and then he handed me a VCR tape with the title "Albert Einstein – Dimensions."

"Play the tape. When you hear the musical note D, come back and press the Aux button, then the input button, and then the number 777." The white haired stranger said.

I did as he asked. When I hit the button there was a bright light and a doorway appeared. The man in white helped grandpa out of the bed and helped him through. As he stood there he said, "Your grandfather has many years left. Come and join us in my dimension."

In this attempt at writing, please forgive me for my boo-boos. I am currently on pain meds for another stupid thing I did and hopefully it is coherent and funny.

During my formative years (you know between trying to figure out how to ask a girl out and learn to drive a car), I lived just out side of Beavers Bend State Park in southeastern Oklahoma. Actually, just south a few miles down the road from The Ouachita National Forest (pronounced O- wa-chita) and west of the Broken Bow Lake spill way.

My brother and I had received ten speed bicycles and we became avid riders. Of course, I have already told you about his ride down a hill ( http://bad4.newsvine.com/_news/2009/03/26/2606722-my-brothers-new-shoes ) and in all seriousness, that was his stupid moment.

Of course, I had some of those moments too. What is it in our youthful brains that give us the impression of immortality and a lack of thought about the minor obstacles in life - like things that could kill us.

"HEY! Let's jump in the river!" Never mind the fact you are standing at the edge of a 100 foot cliff!

"Wow! I wonder what would happen if I poked this stick into that bee hive?"

"Is that a poisonous snake?" You might ask as you stab at it with a stick.

Yet, on this occasion that I have been thinking about, it was "Wow! Cool hill! How fast can we ride down it?"

The thoughts of slope or degree, gravity or gravel do not cross your mind. It does not matter that it is 40% grade with a winding road that cars found difficult to traverse at a minor 25 miles an hour. What matters is the cool factor. The roller coaster that the Army Corp of Engineers had made just for you and your younger brother to test out with new ten speed bikes!

Nor does it even cross your mind that the top of the damn is 610 feet high above the river with the road at the bottom sitting just above said river in less then a quarter of a mile. Those notions might make you think twice and decide that the trip to the bottom was a bit much, unless you rode the brakes all the way down.

Brakes, smakes. Who cares that even Evil Kenevil would plan for days before making any attempt at riding a ten speed down as fast as you could! Never mind that little thing called a helmet or even a though of pads.

What mattered the most was beating the record of Jimmy Joe! The fact that Jimmy had missed the turn and taken the trip less traveled off the cliff and falling to the river, thus making an extremely fast ride down was not even in the equation.

In fact, the idea that Jimmy might not even exist never crossed either of our minds. Our Uncle had told us about him and it never crossed our teenage stupidity that he might have been trying to warn us from ever riding our bikes down said hill. NOOOOO! Our Uncle had told us and thus it was true!

Uncle Luke said it and Jimmy was the local legend and that made it the God's honest truth! As adults we have asked this question on numerous occasions, but in our youth we knew for sure that Jimmy was a bike god among men! Of course, Uncle Luke denies the story to this day, but I degrees.

We started out on the far side of the dam and picked up as much speed as we could. Faster and faster until we were passing cars on the dam road. My brother was fast, but I took the lead. Then I hit the hill.

What a wondrous feeling! The adrenaline shot through my veins as quickly as the road past under my wheels. I passed another car, and then another. I took the first turn and shot further down the road. Then it happened.

Have you ever been hit in the forehead by a June bug? I can attest that it hurts like hell! Yet, I never knew they flew in flocks.........

Suddenly I was pelted all about my face as bugs squished against my face. My skin stretched tight from the blistering wind! The gross factor was setting in about the time one flew in my mouth. Ever choke, hack and cough while riding a ten speed at a billion miles an hours?

Then I shot through the gravel as my front wheel threw the tiny shards into my bare legs. I knew I could not turn, because it would put me on the ground...sliding my bare legs through gravel. The only problem was that it forced me to go straight into the swimming area.

I shot across the parking area and over the wall that was a few feet high. I landed on the sand and it caused my bike to slide then catch. I found myself flying through the air catapulted by the sudden stop of the bike. I saw the bike tumble as I went out over the water.

Ever skip a stone? Yup! I skipped across the water then found myself buried in it.

As I swam back to the beach, I saw my brother slowly coming down the hill. He gently parked his bike and walked over to me.

"Couldn't wait for me?" He said.

"Nope." It was all I could muster.

Now, that I am grown, I and look back at things like this, I know why my mother thanked God, I was in bed each night.

When we first got Austin, he joined our family with another dog, Frito. Both were puppies (Frito at about one year, Austin at about eight weeks) and full of fun and live.

Eventually, both grew old and passed away. Austin last August and Frito in February of this year. I do miss them.

Yet, on some days, I remember some of our times together and this is one such case.

By the time Frito and Austin were full sized we had never taken them any where past the back yard. Then a pet fair was held at a local park. They offered $5 shots, free exams and fun for the entire family. So, we loaded them up and headed across town for what promised to be a day of fun.

Now Austin, a Rottweiler/Sharpei mix at approximately 100 lbs and Frito, a Lab/Cocker mix at approximately 70 lbs climbed into the car for their second automobile ride. Of Course, this left little room for anyone else, so I took my wife and a friend of ours took our children.

I start the car and Frito immediately starts to whine. I look at him and decide it might be better to get him out and let him go potty before we leave. Yet, when I open the door, he looks at me with this sad look as if to say, "I have to get out? What did I do?"

His hesitation leads me to believe that he did not need to go. So, I closed the door and got back in. Frito starts to cry again. This time, I get out, grab the leash and pull. Frito pulls back and hides behind Austin. As I pull again, Austin jumps out and starts trotting around the car, leash in tow.

I quickly run after Austin - who knew he could run that fast? I chase him around the back of the car, around to the front and past the grill. Just as I am turning past the drivers side front., I see Frito's leash turning the corner of the back of the car. Yeah, that is me. The guy who was dumb enough to expect the dog to do what he was originally doing and refuse to get out.

I look at my wife as I am trying to step on Austin's leash and get the classic "What are you doing" stare. I could see her give the "harrumph" exasperated look and she opened the door just in time for Frito to jump into her lap and start licking her make up off. Austin was fast behind him. I caught up to him in time to see muscle his way into her lap.

I closed the door and ran to the other side just in time to see Frito jump out again. This time, in my gruffest voice, I growled, "Frito! Get in the car!" I was actually amazed, because it worked.

Getting in, I put the car in reverse and turned to look back. Of course, to Austin this meant he needed to put his face into mine and start licking. I turned back around, used my mirrors and backed out of the drive way.

I drive a little ways when I realize I have a head next to mine with his tongue hanging out. It is like your own personal "heavy Breather" phone call. Then, you start to feel it.

For those of you who own large dogs, you know what it is like to have a dog hanging over your shoulder drolling down your neck. You find yourself driving down the road with your head twisted in a fashion that only fans of "The Exorcist" would enjoy. Of course, the only time your dogs stop drolling is long enough to run from one side of the car to the other. This is so the dogs can see which side of the car the wind taste better on and/or to check which side of the car needs more droll down its side.

Still, the interesting thing is weight distribution as you go around corners. Why is they run to the inside of each corner as you go around it. Sure, it is a subtle feeling, but you can still feel the 170 lb shift as you see them pass by in your rear view mirror. Then, on the straight away I seem to grow an extra head. This time it is Frito.

That may not mean much to you, kind reader. Yet, for me it means about 10 gallons of droll less then if it is Austin. However, it also means the random tongue in the ear deal. Have I ever mentioned I have very clean ears?

We finally reach the park. My wife as pretty as ever and me looking as if I took a shower with my clothes on. This only happens due to the fact that my short wife (5ft 2in) does not have her seat pushed back. Still, I am extremely pleased that neither Frito or Austin had one of their farting sessions. Then again, perhaps that would have kept my head stuck out the side of the window and thus, kept me dryer.

Once we get there, my being the brave soul that I am, I take both leashes as the dogs jump out of the car. We head across the park and immediate start hitting the large crowds. My dogs love people. They obviously believe people were put on this earth for the pleasure of them. So, Austin shows his love to the first woman he meets. He walks up behind her, places his head under her skirt and flips it up. Now ladies,imagine if you will a cold wet nose on your inner thigh as you feel your skirt or dress flipped up. This all happened in a matter of seconds and I did not teach him to do this.

Of course, the woman must have thought differently. She slapped me. And of course, my wife asks if I know her.

This was followed by some stammering as my mind and dignity were reeling. Still, as I explained what happened Frito had to take his turn by peeing on the leg of the closest University of Oklahoma Football Player (did I mention we live just down the street from the University?).

Now anyone who watches this renowned team, knows those guys are not small and this one was the size of large walk in freezer.

"Hey! Your dog pissed on my leg." He stated with an angry look on his face.

"Oh, I am so sorry." I said in earnest, hoping he would not crumple me like a beer can.

"That's OK." He said and started to smile. "I have a dog myself. He just likes me and wants to mark me as his territory."

I smiled and quietly counted my blessing and hoped my blushing embarrassment would just fade away.

Then Austin took a second turn. Suddenly, his front went to the ground and his butt was high up as his tail took off like a whirling dervish. Need less to say, Austin quickly showed me his favorite toy was cats. I felt the sudden surge as my 180 lb frame went sideways. Austin did not mind, he knew I was just along for the ride.

Have I ever told you how interesting the world looks from the ground up as you slide through a forest of legs? It can be quite exhilarating. At least till you reach the gravel. You get to see the grass from a bugs point of view as you scream "NOOOO! BAD DOG!" at the top of your lungs.

Austin drug me some distance before the cat got away.

Yeah, we did a lot of training after that.

So, after kissing my wife and watching her climb back in bed, I flipped off the light and practically floated down the hall to the smell of coffee. I was sure I resembled a cartoon character following the aroma of my "go-go" juice. I stopped only long enough to press the button on my laptop to turn it on, at least I think I did.

I grabbed the biggest cup we have, filled it and started gulping the brown liquid down before remembering I drink it with cream and that it was hot. As my tongue melted, I did dawn me and I gasp for some cool air. I turned and grabbed the refrigerator handle and yanked it open

I was still so asleep that I almost put mustard in my coffee, before I realized it. Still, I finally got the Carnation flavored creamer out (my wife spoils me- he-he) and added it. This cooled it down enough to sip and I started toward the living room. Plopping myself on the couch, I wondered if I had left my computer on, but since there was no screen saver on, I decided I must have turned it on, at least I think I turned it on. At this point wasn't even sure I was awake.

I drank my coffee as I clicked my way to the national weather service to see how to dress for my appointment. I knew I would wear a short sleeve shirt, because of the IV the Nurses would place, but in Oklahoma at this time of year it pays to see if you might want short pants and/or conversely might need a jacket.

I drank my coffee quickly to try to wake up as I navigated over to Newsvine. After having to read an article several times and still not following it, I decided it was time for more coffee. At least this time I did not try to add a condiment. Of course, I probably would not have know if I did. Much less, admit that I did it twice.

After three large cups I finally felt semi-functional and went to get ready. So, I slid down the hall to the room, slipped the door closed and in the dark started getting taking off my pajamas. That was when it happened.

I pulled off my bottoms and then my boxers and started to pull my t-shirt off over my head when I suddenly felt this extreme cold wet "thing" touch my right bare butt cheek and I yelped. I couldn't help it. I jumped forward with my shirt covering my face. I twisted and yanked at my shirt to see what touched me. I did not realize I was that close to the wall. At least not until I ran into it.

Bouncing back, I landed on my bare butt with a thud. I quickly yanked the shirt off and by the night light from the bathroom I could see Bohdi standing there wagging his tail as if he thought I was playing with him. He had his front half down with his butt in the air and his tail going at wind mill speeds. I was upset that he had touched my butt with that ice cold nose, but how can you stay mad at such an innocent face. Still, if I never have a dogs cold nose against my bare butt again, it will be too soon.

I looked at my wife and she had barely stirred during the whole incident. I wish I could sleep like her. I almost expected her to tell me to turn the alarm off again.

I guess it was his pay back for me waking him when I stepped on him earlier as I struggled with the alarm. He quickly stepped up and began to licking my face. I let him know he wasn't trouble, got to my feet and finished getting ready.

I managed to get to the VA Hospital a little early and went to get my labs done. Having had my blood drawn just short of a million times, I have learned to appreciate the vampires at the VA Hospital Lab. They are very good at getting blood out of this turnip.

Next was the pharmacy to pick up some of my shots.

While waiting, I noticed this elder man standing at the window. He had a walker and two hearing aids. His legs had braces on them and he was held his walker tight. He talked very loud and it was impossible not to notice the conversation.

"You have that medicine?" He yelled.

"No sir, we are out." The clerk replied.

"So you don't have any Viagra or Cialis?" He yelled as everybody in the place turned toward him.

"No sir."

"Okay, so how am I supposed to explain to her that she isn't getting any tonight?" He demanded "My girlfriend wants me bad! I do have a hot body, you know!"

"Sir, I am sorry. We will mail it to you as soon as we get it." She said. I looked around and there were several smirks.

"Okay." He said politely and turned toward the waiting line. I think it dawned on him that everyone had heard the conversation. Wide eyed he said to all of us "Damn, my woman ain't gonna be happy. She wants this hot body, that God blessed me with, all the time!" He winked at me and pushed his walker forward.

I felt sorry for him, but was amused at the same time.

I got my medicine and went to the infusion clinic. As usual, I found my comfortable chair in the corner, curled up in it and fell asleep.

Now, as anyone who has been in a hospital will tell you, Nurses wake you all the time. They will wake you to see if you want something to help you sleep. Of course, they have a job to do, but that doesn't make it any easier. First, was the blood pressure. Of course, always being anxious about these things and having a gallon of coffee in me, my blood pressure was a tad high. George, knew this and he claimed I did it on purpose to make him come back a second time. Sandy, Jerry and Tina also claims the same thing every time I show up and it always take a second reading to let the caffeine high and anxiety decrease enough to get a normal reading.

The second time it was normal and they received the labs, so I was good to go. A new nurse student was there today and she stuck me twice without striking "oil" and she started crying. I hate women or children crying. I tried to tell her it was okay, but that seemed to make it worse. Sandy stepped in and got the IV in the first time. I felt sorry for the poor student.

The next wake up was to see if I wanted a blanket. The third was to tell me my chemo (don't worry, it is only a bilologic for Crohn's, not the other big "C") was coming up from Pharmacy. The forth was to see what I wanted for lunch.

"Hun, what would you like for lunch?" Sandy asked.

"Food." I replied and the elder gentlemen setting around the room roared with laughter.

Sandy stood there with the strangest look on her face. She was dumb founded as to what to say and I wondered if she was about to order to worst thing on the menu.

"You are very lucky we think you are our best patient." Sandy said with a sly smile.

I finished my treatment, drove home and crashed for most of that day.

I am just thankful these only come once every six weeks.

As some of you who have tracked my articles know, I have Crohn's Diseases and have to get an infusion of what is referred to as a biologic every six to eight weeks. Today (6 May) was one of those days.

The alarm went off at 5 Am and drug me kicking and screaming out of my slumber where I was chasing my naked wife and........Well, you get the idea, great dream interrupted.

I had been up till 1 AM helping my daughter with a project that she had run into problems on. The last one of her Senior year and you wonder why I have gray in my beard. She is the third one, so I am lucky I am not bald by now.

I hurried, with my eyes half closed and me not even awake yet, toward my desk to shut the darn thing off and tripped over the dog. Of course, he yelped and I half fell, half jumped and ended up landing on my wife's feet. "Honeyyyyy.....its the alarm. Shut it off." She whined.

I slipped off the end of the bed and stumbled to the clock. I was already pressing buttons when I realized I had picked up the phone and was dialing God only knows who. With my luck, it was probably ringing the Kremlin Hot line!

"It's the button on top. It's the black button." She cried, as if I could see the color black in a room that could pass for a photographer's dark room.

Oops. I realized that I was now pounding the top of Wii console. I looked around and wondered where I had put my glasses. It is bad enough that the room was extremely dark without the blurred vision, an animal some where on the floor, and an half asleep women whining at a half asleep man.

The alarm whooped at close intervals as I slid down the wall to my night stand and groped in the dark for my second eyes. As I found them, I slid them on my face and started my quest over. I could see the green blinking light on my router and the red blinking light on my cable modem, but the clock wasn't sitting where it had been sitting for the past four years.

"SHUT THE ALARM OFF!" she yelled as the clock continued the burp out it annoying chime. I scanned the room and saw clock numbers on the dresser next to the TV and slowly moved that way being careful not to step on the dog again. I was thankful the dog had moved.

I noticed the glowing numbers looked odd. Crap! The Cable box. I stepped closer and finally saw small red numbers sitting back against the wall on top of the cable box. It wasn't the alarm clock we have had for the past 13 years. Huh?

"THE ALARM! It's the button on top! The button on top! Hit the button on top!" She ordered as she hit the light and jumped out of bed. She grabbed the small radio clock and started pushing buttons.

"When did we get this?" I asked as I stifled a yawn.

"Yesterday." She replied.

"Why did you move it?"

"Looks better here."

"And you couldn't warn me?"

"What fun would that be?" She replied and leaned up to kiss me.

I returned her kiss and looked over at Bohdi who had jumped on my side of the bed at the foot. His tail wagging and his eyes were saying "Pleaseeeee.....Can I go back to sleep." Little did I know that the adage "let sleeping dogs lay" would come back to get me this morning.

I rubbed his head and went to get my coffee. Lord, I need that coffee. I just pray it is stronger then me this morning.

When you live in a forest, you get to see many sites that city dwellers hardly get to see.

I have lived in both. As a teenager we lived just outside of Beavers Bend State Park North of Broken Bow Oklahoma.

For you Star Trek Fans: Yes, they got it wrong, it is not open plains with miles of corn fields. It is a mountain region with miles of forest.

One day, we heard the dogs going crazy and went to see what might have wondered into our neck of the woods. There are cougars, Bob Cats, deer and even snakes. On this occasion we found a raccoon hiding in a small tree. After closer examination we saw a trap on his foot that was hanging down from a chain.

My Father, decided we needed to help this critter and sent me to get the ladder while my brother put the dogs inside the house.

Me, with all of my wonder and awe was ready and willing to help this poor creature get free of the trap.

I soon found out, the coon had other ideas.

I set up the ladder and climbed to the lowest branch. Reaching up, I grabbed the limb and pulled myself up higher where I was close to the coon, but not close enough. I figured I was about ten feet off the ground by this time, standing on a thin branch that was swaying in the breeze.

The bandit looked at me with trepidation and fear as I made my way closer. He slowly backed up and hissed at me in warning. I moved a little closer.

Suddenly, the coon lurched in my direction. I backed peddled and lost my footing. The cold hand of fear grabbed my heart as I flailed me arms about to grab anything. I ended up grabbing a limb as my feet split the difference of a branch. It was all that kept me from singing soprano the rest of my life. Yet, the impact was still enough to want to let go and grab my neither regions in pain.

As the leaves and branches began to settle, I found myself face to face with the black masked monster I had been dumb enough to feel all warm and cuddly over! He looked almost serenely at me, his face seemed to show empathy. Just before he showed me his sharp fangs!

He jumped at me and landed on head. Here I was, a branch between my legs, my arms above my head holding on for dear life and a twenty pound Raccoon dancing on skull!

I screamed like a little girl shown a spider! I let go of the branch and grabbed the chain that was now hanging in my face. Big mistake.

When I grabbed the chain, it pulled the felonious Procyon toward my face. Of course, in fear he grabbed three handfuls of hair and the fight was on!

I saw his butt setting right in front of my eyes (talk about stink!) and grabbed his tail with my free hand. This made him pull the other direction and we were soon tumbling out of the tree. I swear, I hit every branch going down. I even hit every one that had been above me and I know I hit each one of twice.

My Dad had always joked that it was not the fall that kills you, it is the sudden stop. I had news for him. When you are falling through a tree with a coon hanging onto your head you start praying that the fall would kill you! At least, until that sudden stop comes up!

We hit the ground with the coon on top of me and me on my back. Yet, as I did my Father and brother jumped in and tried to help. Dad grabbed the chain and my brother grabbed the tail and both of them pulled. Of course, this pulled hair, MY HAIR! I yelped in pain with the little breath left that had not been shot out upon impact with the ground.

I saw the coon come up away from me. He was clawing and ranting like a pair of conservatives and liberals looked in the same room, only this time it was in the same body.

They stretched him out and it dawned on me that they were yelling for me to release the trap. I slowly got up and moved toward them.

I grabbed the chain and Dad grabbed the coon by the scruff of his neck. Holding the chain taught, I stepped on the release and the trap slipped off his foot. My Brother let go of the tail and my Dad was left holding the coon.

The coon quickly turned to bite and started clawing at Dad's arms. It back paws finally stretched Dad and he quickly tossed the Coon away from us.

The Raccoon was free to go. Yup! The best laid plans..........

Turning quickly, the Coon shot toward my brother. I swear, at that time my brother could have beat an Olympic sprinter. He quickly ran for the deck. My Dad, moved as fast as he could, jumped into our old 1970 Plymouth Fury III and slammed the door.

Yeah, that left me. He looked me and limped to one side as he slowly moved forward. I gave a mean look and slowly stepped back. We stood there staring at each other for several moments. His beady eyes watching to see what I would do.

Suddenly, I saw my opening and ran for Dad's Pick up truck! Hitting the bumper I jumped into the bed and kept moving. I jumped to the roof and grabbed a low hanging branch and swung my legs up!

Hanging there like a sloth, I looked down for my torturer. He was simply limping away knowing he had gotten the best of each of us.

Approximately thirty-two year ago, I had this little dog named Foo-Dang, which, I have been told, is Thai for "Damn Red Dog." My Father who had been stationed in Thailand had come up with the name.

Yet, don't let the name fool you. He was more like an overgrown hamster mixed with a Yorkie. His hair was long and he had bits of black mixed into the red coloring. His face was very much like a yorkie and he loved everybody. He was just one of those "always a puppy" adorable dogs.

Still, he thought he was the big dog on our small piece of property. He took it upon himself to guard us with all of his little yaps at passing dirt graters and owls setting 100 feet of the ground. The owls would ask, "Who?" and he would respond with a bark that let that questioning bird know "ME! That's who!"

Yes, he was very brave. He would actually only stand behind small bushes when someone approached even when the big bushes would have hid him better. Still, he would also bark at our chickens.

The chickens lived in a big cage that was elevated about four feet off the ground. Roughly about four feet above his head if you discount his huge stature of 10 inch's.

Each day it was the same ritual for me or my brother. We would go to the cage, gather the eggs and feed the chickens. All the time trying to keep from stepping on that damn red dog. He would jump up and at his pinnacle let out a high pitched bark that sent the chickens scurrying around in their cage. Ever put your hands into a cage of flapping birds? He would do this while we were working with them and for a few minutes after we had finished.

On one such occasion, my brother finished the job and shut the door. Foo-Dang jumped - Bark! He jumped again - Bark! He was just letting the Chickens know that he was the boss. Jump-Bark, Jump-Bark.

As I walked out the door and headed toward my brother to help him carry the eggs in, Foo Dang made another leap- BARK! And the door flew open! My brother had forgotten to latch the stupid thing.

With feathers flying the bird landed in front of our pure breed mutt with its feet already running. It resembled a Willy E. Coyote and Road Runner film festival with a dog that was half the size of the chicken! All that was missing was an ACME Cannon! I watched in amazement as the Guinea Pig sized pup ran for all he was worth to get that bird!

They ran past the bush and around the car then, past the bush again. Features were flying and I was expecting the chicken to be bald by the time we caught the dog. I ran the opposite direction to head them off and they cut under my father's 1969 Dodge pick up.

Sliding to a stop, I quickly changed directions to go to the other side and ran smack into my brother who still had the eggs. It was like the current chest to chest bump that you see pro athletes doing, but with two teenage boys that had eggs between them. That day I learned that you can actually squirt eggs. It gave a whole new experience to the term of having egg on your face.

So, with yoke dripping from my chin and covering my chest, I stepped around my brother who was now standing there with egg all over him as well. As I slide by him, it dawned on me that my younger brother had a "OH GROSS" look on his face that was mixed with shock and dismay, but I was still trying to save the chicken.

As I reached the front of the truck, I saw Foo-Dang with a mouth full of feathers shoot across the drive way still trying to bite that bird's butt! With a slimy yellow beard I was chasing meals on wheels trying to catch them before Foo-Dang had his first chicken dinner!

I watched in horror as the white clucker ran under the wood porch deck as the would be chicken mauler finally grabbed a mouth full of chicken butt! My eyes were wide with fear as I heard what must have been the slaughter of that poor chicken. There was barks and clucking as a few feather flew out. My mind was racing through the carnage that must have matched the horrible sound.

Then it happen. There was this shrieking yelp of pain. I imagined the blood. The barking stopped. I imagined the gore. It grew quiet for a second. Then another yelp and it dawned on me that it was the dog crying out in fear and pain! OH THAT POOR DOG!

Suddenly, Foo-Dang flew out with the chicken pecking at his butt, slapping him with its wings, and grabbing the poor dogs rear end with his claws and we were off to the races again! I never knew a chicken or such a small dog could run that fast. Then again, if something twice my size was biting my tail, I think I could run pretty fast as well.

I chased them toward the pick-up and watched them disappear under the front as I heard that poor dog yelping for help. The chicken was beating him with its wings, grabbing him with its claws and pecking him to boot! I yelled to my brother who was at the other end of truck, "They are coming out on your side!" Needless to say, they turned and came out in the middle. One of those "best laid plans" thing.

My brother, still having egg on his hands, got a bright idea and whistled for the dog. As the dog mauler chased him, Foo-Dang headed for the only comfort he could find. The arms of anybody that could keep that chicken away.

I headed that direction and caught the chicken as my brother caught the dog.

Interesting enough, that dog never did bark at the those chicken again

_________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading my story. Hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment.

Scott (Scoop) Butki challenged several of us to come up with a fictional story that met particular criteria.

http://sbutki.newsvine.com/_news/2008/11/14/2112572-your-next-writing-challenge-write-a-story-explaining-this-photo?threadId=419667&commentId=4067246#c4067246

Here is mine:

Avery Johnson stopped in front of the mens room and carefully checked the surroundings. Being clear, he slowly pushed the door open and entered.

It was as common as any public restroom, but was obviously cleaned daily. He stood for a minute and allowed the door to close as he listened for the sound of any one and looked carefully around the room. Crouching down he looked under the stalls first and then under the sinks.

Avery stood and walked to the first stall and slowly pushed it opened. He glanced at one wall and then the other. There was lots of graffiti, but not what he was looking for. He duplicated the exercise for the second and still did not see what he was looking for.

He stepped forward to the third and next to the last stall and slowly pushed the door open. It was there. Just as he had been told it would be. He carefully checked the wall, stopping for only a short second to look back at the door as if he half expected someone to step through it.

On the gray wall were the words "I am watching you." Below it was a handbill for a club called "The Talking Head" that touted several bands and gave dates. He stood there for a minute and thought about what he was looking at.

He stepped out of the stall and quickly went to the last stall and looked at its walls. Then quickly moved to the first two and looked at those walls before returning to the writing he had been looking for.

His thoughts raced. It struck him that this stall was the only one that had a hand bill of any kind. The cleaning crew would have removed this one, if they had removed others. A person posting handbills would have put them in all stalls. Being the only one in the stall with the message, meant it had to be a message. So, he carefully studied it. He noticed an owl in the upper right hand corner and there was a band highlighted for that day.

Avery quickly pulled his phone out and took three pictures. He stepped out of the stall and hurried for the door as he pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed the number.

The voice said, "Elucidate."

Avery responded, "Fetish."

"Line secure. Go Agent Johnson."

"1325 W. 13th Street. Two teams. I think we have him."

"Pictures received. Teams in route. Good luck."

Johnson closed the cell, turned it over and pulled the battery out. Next he removed the sim card and placed it in his pocket. As he passed the trash can, he casually pitched the remaining parts of the cell into the trash and slid out his second phone and slide the battery into place.

When he arrived at the club, he parked and went inside. It was dark and the music was loud. His eyes quickly scanned the room and he saw Murphy standing near the stage fitting in with the other young people that had come to hear the band. Murphy looked at him, but neither acknowledge the other.

Standard operating procedure dictated another agent in the club, one behind the club and one somewhere near the front. Considering Murphy was on team two, Avery glanced to the other side of the room for Hernandez. He was near the bar talking to a blond that Avery did not recognize. He figured Hernandez would leave with two or three phone numbers and never miss a beat in the operation.

Then he heard the melodic and suave voice chirp in his ear, "Agent Johnson. Fancy seeing you here. You are smarter then I presumed."

Avery was startled to hear the voice of Ankasa, but held his bearing and composure. The combination ear wig/microphone short range transmitter embedded in front of his ear and just behind his jaw was supposed to be on a secure radio wave, but it had obviously been compromised. Needing to know the depth of the compromise, Avery said, "A lot of people have made that mistake."

Avery glanced around looking for any sign of the man as he heard the voice again, "Not a mistake that I will soon repeat."

Avery ran his fingers through his hair.

"Signaling your team?" The smooth voice asked with a chuckle.

Avery felt a coldness envelope him. Not only had the trans-dermal transmitter been compromised, but the subject also knew there were others. Still, it could be an educated guess and he knew he had to play the situation carefully. If the teams had been compromised, then they were in danger too. If not, Avery knew he had the upper hand. He quickly decided to go with his gut as he saw Hernandez light a smoke out of the corner of his eye. A clear answer from the non-smoking Hispanic. "No team this time. I want to kill you myself."

"Still upset over Cairo?"

"You killed 39 people with that sarin gas." Avery kept scanning the crowd as he spoke, needing any sign as to where the terrorist was. He started moving through the crowd hoping Ankasa's eyes would follow him and miss Hernandez who had started moving through the crowd.

"Didn't you hear? It was bus accident." Ankasa said snidely.

"We both know better." Avery hissed as he watched Murphy leave the room and head into the back Kitchen. He felt relieved that no one followed the young agent.

"This time the press will not be able to ignore me."

"They ignore you because you are insignificant."

"No. They ignore me, because your government lied about my actions. You won't stop me."

Avery felt the vibration of his cell phone and slowly slipped it out. Holding it low he pushed his thumb between the top and bottom halves and pushed it open. He read the text message and grinned.

"You mean the small pox canister in the subway? We found that six hours ago." Avery said in a matter of fact way that was only met with silence. He kept looking while waiting for the words to soak in and panic the man. When Avery guessed Ankasa had enough time to pull the detonator out he continued, "Or the one in the box of lettuce in the kitchen?"

He saw the man stand up quickly and he was less then 20 feet away. Avery pulled his Glock 9mm from its holster as he pushed through the crowd. Hernandez moved in their direction, gun in hand.

Seemingly from out of no where, Ankasa pulled a Russian made Stryj 9mm machine pistol and raised it toward the crowd. As he did Avery fired six shots at the man.

Ankasa flew backward into the table and flipped over landing chest down on the floor. Avery charged him, but Hernandez reached him first and grabbed his arm twisting it behind the man. Grabbing his other arm he quickly had cuffs on him. The two men pulled him up.

Agent Johnson moved in front of his prey and pulled the mans shirt open. Six bruises were forming in a tight pattern. Pulling the shirt open more Avery saw that next to the red and blueish welts was a tattoo of an owl, just like the one on the handbill.

"Rubber bullets." Avery said to Ankasa as he gave the man a big smile. Hernandez was joined by Murphy and the two men drug Ankasa away.

(Dedicated to Marjorie W., R.I.P.)

Kay was a matronly attractive woman in her late seventies who still practiced within the realms of her lifelong profession as a therapist, although now just on a part time basis. She was very intelligent and held a double Masters Degree. My lawyer had referred me to her, and this was about my fourth session with her.

Wisps of white hair framed a slightly wrinkled, full face that clear, bright, knowing eyes looked out from as she asked me, "What would you do if it was a blizzard out and he came knocking on your door, needing a place to stay, and something to eat? What if he told you he had no place else to go? Would you let him in?

The "he" she was referring to was my soon to be ex-husband. I looked at the blue carpet on the floor and scooted my butt deeper into the cheap red vinyl chair, forcing myself to relax my hold on the wooden armrests before answering her. There were no couches here.

We had been over this before, and in exasperation I said, "I would let him in."

"That's not what I want to hear." Her voice was thick with disappointment. Or was it disapproval? She continued, "That isn't a normal response."

I argued, "He's still the father of my children. And he is also a human being". I looked her square and tried to keep my right eyebrow from rising as that, I was sure, would be an accurate show of the frustration I was already beginning to feel.

"Kay, what IS normal? Are you saying I"M not normal? That I"M not competent? That I'M 'crazy' or something?"

Kay was silent for a moment as she perused my face. Then gave her head a slight side to side shake as she quietly explained, "No, I didn't mean that at all. I'm just saying that you are getting a divorce and you cannot let this man back into your life. Not under ANY circumstances!" She was adamant. "It isn't 'normal' for you to still care about him like this. Not when you're getting a divorce".

l countered, "Well, as I just said, he is STILL the father of my children, and getting divorced will never change that. What would my kids think if they found out that I had turned him away and put him out in the cold? I can't, and won't, do that! Not to my little boys! Normal or not. But you still haven't told me what you mean by 'normal'.

She expelled a tired sigh, then, "Normal is the 'usual'. It's the 'standard'. It's what MOST people would do in a given situation. And most women in your situation would not let the man in."

By this time I had gotten out of the chair and was pacing the center of the room. "I am not MOST women. I am me and this is MY situation! This is totally absurd! He's not going to hurt us or anything. He's never laid a hand on me".

I returned to stand behind the chair I had recently vacated and queried further, "Normal? By whose standards? So you're telling me that if you have a bowel movement three times a day, and I only have one maybe once every three days, that you would be normal, but I'm not? Kay was trying to hide a smile but her eyes were twinkling as she watched me. I swear I heard her stifle a giggle.

I also noted that my voice had risen and I realized I needed a concentrated effort to re-gain my composure. I told myself to take deep breaths and to calm down. Breathe and focus. I slowly and quietly exhaled. I closed my eyes and felt my nostrils flare as I sucked in a fresh breath. I placed my fidgeting hands on the back of the chair, and making a visible effort to lower my voice, I continued, "Who makes this stuff up anyway? Some so called 'expert'? Humph!"

Kay said, "Normal is a standard that has been set by society, and in order to fit in you need to conform to that way of thinking."

She put her hand up to silence me as I opened my mouth to speak. I closed my mouth. But by now I knew I was glaring at her. I turned and walked over to a bookcase along the wall and stared at the various titles as she added, "It's true that we are all individuals and while we need to hold onto that, we don't want to become TOO different either. So we have to 'bend' a little in order to fit in with everyone else".

In a snotty voice I again referenced the bowel movements, "So am I suppose to take a dump three times a day? Or is once every three days okay? Who's gonna know? Who's gonna care? What does 'society' say is 'normal' about that?"

Kay looked at her watch and lifted the legal pad from her lap. Wheeling her high backed executives chair closer to her desk she laid the pad down and picked up her date book, saying, "Unfortunately our time is up. We can continue this next time, but I want you to work on this. You need to have the right answer in order to convince the Judge if it comes up in court." She began studying her schedule to pencil in our next meeting.

**********

We never did reach an agreement concerning "what is normal" and "by whose standards", and it never came up in court. However, before it was all said and done, Kay had dubbed me the most cynically skeptical person she had ever met. We developed a close friendship and stayed in touch over the next few years until her death.