She looked shocked and saddened. "Let me talk to my boss and see what I can do."
Ten minutes later she came back with an offer of $3500.
"Can't do it," I said.
She looked like I had just killed her puppy. "I'll be right back," she moaned.
She came in a few minutes later with another woman that I'll call "The Gremlin Lady". She was short and squat, wore glasses and had real stubby fingers with blue ink all over them. She also had a real rough voice. She reminded me of David Johanson from The New York Dolls, the lead singer, who also played the Taxi Cab Ghost in "Scrooged" with Bill Murray. The shirt she wore was button- up and a few sizes too small, so that you could see her skin through the spaces in between the buttons. I guess there was no one in her house when she put the shirt on to say, "No, throw that shirt away, you'll scare people!" I was praying the buttons would hold, as they seemed to be ready to pop off at any second.
"Brian, I need you in the program. I've got 5,000 single women and only 3 men!"
I told her it just wasn't in my budget and we went at it for a good ten minutes. Lisa was blocking the door so I could not escape without running her over and I was starting to get claustrophobic. They finally left me there and I saw my chance for escape, but that was not to be as Lisa brought in another woman who I'll call "The Warden". She was a big, tall, robust woman who made the earth shake when she walked and she was very animated. She waved her arms around when she talked and it added to her size.
"I thought he wanted to join the program, what's going on here?!" yelled The Warden.
I told her I couldn't afford "The Program" and she suggested some type of payment plan. A payment plan that they really weren't supposed to offer, but would make an "exception" in my case.
"If I'm that much of a catch, why the hell do I need these “ladies" to help me?" I thought.
"Look," said The Warden "how much do you have left over each month after paying you bills?"
“I don't know,” I said as my anxiety really starting kicking in, "about $100."
"Well, there we go," she said, "just put $1500, down and then pay $100 a month."
"Great, then when you find me a woman, I'll tell her we can go out as soon as my "Program" is paid off."
She ignored me and walked around preaching about true love and how money meant nothing and blah,blah,blah. I didn’t know what she was saying. I stared out the window at a tree in the backyard and wished so much that I was that tree. Finally, there was silence and I could feel her staring at me while I had a nervous breakdown.
Then she sat down and I saw my chance. She started writing some numbers on a piece of paper, asking me what I thought about this figure or that figure. I stood up.
"Sit down Brian," she said, "we're making progress here."
"No, that's okay," I said, shaking as my panic attack surged.
I reached for the door and she called me name again.
"I'll talk to my dad," I said, trying to keep her busy. "Do you take American Express?"
"Yes we do" she grinned as she responded.
"Shit... I mean, ok, let me talk to him." I said.
"We can call him right now." The sly Warden suggested.
"We can't," I said as I opened the door, "He's.. uh ..umm.. in a meeting!" I yelled triumphantly as I ran out of the room.
Lisa came out of an office across the hall and saw me running for the door. (I had to find the passage back to the place I was before, relax said the night man... never mind.) She waved and said "Bye Brian," and that was all. I guess I looked like I was in a hurry. "I'll call you later," I shouted, just to keep her honest.
When I got to my car, it was kind of like a scene in a horror movie, that scene where the victim gets to their car and they can't seem to get the keys to go into the door or the ignition. The car never starts right away either. I had some trouble getting in my vehicle, but it started fine. I felt that if I would have stayed there another minute I would have seen the three of them bounding down the steps. First there would have been Lisa saying "Hi,Brian," then The Warden yelling, " How about $850 down and $75 a month?" and the Gremlin Lady, in her David Johanson voice bellowing, " We need you in the program!"
I'm still very happily single. This story is true and only one name was change to protect no one. The Warden and the Gremlin Lady are real people, not actors.
My Perfect Hell Gig
Charlie Daniels sang about the Devil going down to Georgia. If the Prince of darkness visited the Peach State, I'm willing to bet he built a summer home in Forsyth. I did a show in Forsyth, Ga. several years ago and I still shudder when I drive by the area just off I-75.
The "Comedy Club" was located in a hotel bar. There was a decent stage with a good size dance floor in front of it and the dance floor was not for seating the audience. That meant that the closest people in the crowd were about fifty feet away, a long way for the laughter to travel, but there would be none of that anyway. The club seated 70 or so and there were about 35 people in the place. Some of the folks were scattered around, but most of them were at two long tables near the dance floor. One table was full of drunk, off- duty cops and the other table was full of tipsy 911 phone operators. This was not a good combination for comedians or crime victims in the area.
I was the opening act and the emcee was the bartender/waiter. He must have been real busy at the bar because when he went to start the show and introduce me he did not go on stage. He stood on the dance floor out of the stage lights and said "Hi, are you ready for comedy, here's your first guy Brian T Shipley." I did not bother to correct his mistake with my name because I don't even think the "audience" noticed that the “show" had started. They just talked right through the intro and were oblivious to me getting on the stage.
My first few minutes on stage weren't that bad. I couldn't see anyone because of the stage lights so I was talking to the dance floor, which was paying more attention than the crowd. I should have kept trying to make the dance floor laugh for 30 minutes, but NO, stupid me I tried to interact with the people. This only caused them to talk louder as I was interrupting their drunken conversations. Then they started in on me with insults. There were so many of them yelling things like "you suck" and "say something funny" that I could not respond quickly enough. I asked them how they would know if I sucked when they weren't even paying attention. Stating this fact only made things worse, so I pointed out a place on the edge of the dance floor for them to come and stand one at a time to heckle me. These fools actually did just that. They formed a line on the spot I had pointed out and one at a time would say their piece. Then I would slam them and they would stumble back to their seat. I finally told them I was leaving which got the best response I had all night. I ended my lecture by informing them that they may not have liked me, but if they don't give the next guy a chance the whole show would be a suck-fest. They actually gave the headliner a chance and he had a decent show. He thanked me after the show for getting them to pay attention.
When I got back to my hotel room I was highly upset which caused me to have a MAJOR panic attack. I still have them from time to time, but this one was bad. My throat felt as if was closing up on me and I was having trouble breathing. I almost called 911, but then I remembered the last time I had done that. It had cost me $2000 to find out I was just having an anxiety attack and the 911 operators were in no shape to answer the phone anyway. It was about 12:30 am, but I decided to call my dad. Maybe he could calm me down, I had thought.
I told him about the show and he knows about my anxiety problem. He told me not to call the hospital, but instead to call the front desk. I asked him why and at the same time I started to relax a little.
"Ask the front desk clerk what time the sun comes up tomorrow." Dad said.
"What for?" I asked.
"Tell them you want a wake-up call before the sun rises because you don't want to see another damn redneck before you leave town!" he resp
onded.
I laughed and relaxed even more.
Thanks Dad for saving me $2000.
Johnny rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard....
Omar Blue and the K-9 Underground
Omar Blue is his name, a 120 lb. blue Doberman. He lives at home with his dad and me, part of the time. Then he goes off to a land with no name, to a town he and his fierce pack of canine followers have named K9 Town, USA. Join Omar Blue and his Pack. Become part of their fantastic, mystical journey. Listen, while I tell you how....MY DOG LEADS TWO LIVES.
One day, while I was sitting around thinking about things I should be doing, Omar decided to let me in on a big secret. A while back, he and his pack had decided they could no longer live their happy lives knowing so many other canines were being abused and mistreated, were lonely and sad. They had to do more. He asked me to take a walk with him to the other side of our property. As we walked, we came upon a tunnel. I’d never seen this tunnel before and we’ve lived here for years, but here it was. I reluctantly followed Omar, knowing he would never put me in harm’s way.
All of a sudden, I saw a bright light. We walked further and the tunnel opened into something beautiful. This wasn’t his K-9 Town, USA but it was so nice. Then we came upon hundreds of dogs, of every shape and size, romping and playing and looking as happy and healthy as could be. What a wonderful place, filled with such harmony. I asked him if this was doggie heaven. “No ma.”
I noticed the puppies were grouped like in a classroom, with a large beautiful, but stern looking German Shepherd in front of them. It was Freedom! Omar Blue and Freedom had done a big rescue back in May. (I’d love to tell you about that too.) It looked like a classroom. Omar said that was exactly what it was. He said, just like K-9 Town, the puppies have to be taught how to protect themselves and each other. He assured me though that most of their time was spent playing and getting into mischief, again just like K-9 Town, and that was good. Freedom and the others wouldn’t have it any other way.
I later learned that this was their K-9 Underground. He apologized for having it so close to home but I thought it was the perfect place, especially since I wanted to get involved in this huge undertaking. What he told me next almost broke my heart.
He told of the situations that he, Freedom and the rest of the K-9 Town, USA pack had gone in and taken some of these poor animals out of. Some of the stories were too bad to repeat here. But word had gotten out that there is a refuge for any K-9 who can get word to them that they need help.
Tomorrow me and daughter Joy will come back.
I didn’t want to leave, of course, but I was a bit of a distraction. That night I had all kinds of thoughts about “our” tunnel, the K-9 Underground. I could go there every day. They’ll get used to me. I went to sleep making plans.
The next morning I asked Omar to come with me to see it again. He said okay but I noticed he was somewhat hesitant. When we got there, I didn’t see the tunnel. We couldn’t have been that far off. I asked Omar where it was and he told me it was still there but I wouldn’t be able to see it again.
I asked how and why but he only said that I couldn’t be involved. He said he had let me in on his secret because he knew how I felt about animal abuse. He wanted to show me that there is a fight going on beyond anything imaginable. He, and all who follow him, would carry this fight on forever.
I’m sad that I can’t work directly with my Omar Blue but it makes me want to do more on my own. My friends would never believe me because I have nothing to prove that my tale is true. I think this is the way Omar wants it, so I have no complaints. All is well.
Not the Firefly
It is late, it is dark, it is very humid; I am in bed and suddenly I’m very wide-awake.
When you live alone, out of the city, not exactly in the bush, yet the nearest neighbor is half a mile away, you tend to notice unusual sounds. I heard something just now and I cannot settle.
Sometimes it is better to be over cautious. Get up if you must, but don’t put the light on. If it turns out to be nothing then there is only you to laugh but on the other hand….
The kitchen is dark and so are all the other rooms, dark and empty. No, what is that? I pad across to the screen door and breathe out in relief. It is just a firefly, clinging to the mesh. And there is another outside on the doormat. Silly me! I smile. Then I remember that fireflies are soundless.
The house is definitely empty. I can close the windows and doors and lock everything up. I can retire to the bedroom and become a nervous sweaty wreck for the next six hours?
Very quietly I step outside. There is no moon and clouds obscure most of the stars. There is one star, shining brightly, to the North West. I am sweating and although the gentle breeze is welcoming, I’m not cooling down.
This is very stupid. From here, just outside the back door, I can peer into the gloom on three sides of the house. As far as I can tell, there is absolutely nothing out of place. So, I think I’ll check the fourth side and then go back to bed.
As I walk softly along the verandah, my brain is working overtime trying to recall what I heard, more than one sound. There had been some muffled shuffling, rather like I am making now and also, possibly a cough, or was it a groan? But that means a person is out there, in trouble maybe. It might be me in trouble, if they are dangerous.
I round the corner of the house and stop dead in my tracks. A few yards ahead is the shed I’d built last year. The lights are on!
I’d subdivided the interior to make a workshop at the far end and a hobby room into which the access door is set. All the windows are on the other sides so I cannot see in.
There’s nothing worth stealing in there. Leave well alone; go away, whoever it is, let them get on with it. No tool or model is worth walking into danger. Go back inside, lock up and call the police, I tell myself.
I hear a solid object crash to the floor, followed by a muted curse. I breathe in heavily, growing anger replacing fear. That could be the ship I’ve labored on for so many hours, now tossed aside and smashed by an ignorant, thieving intruder. Without thinking I stride to the door and fling it open.
The glare is painful, yet moth-like, my eyes are drawn up to the light source even as my mouth gapes open. In my peripheral vision I pick out a scruffy man, then another, and then two women. About to panic I read the banner, stretched from wall to wall just below the ceiling. “WE LOVE YOU. HAPPY CHRISTMAS, DAD!”
The whole family is there, kids and all, bottles and streamers and open hampers beside the table they’d knocked over. The ship is safe on a shelf. Seeing my gaping mouth, they all laugh at my reaction. I grin, all of us very happy with the success of their surprise. Boy, did we have a party, just a bit earlier than they had planned!
Patient Zero
There are some things that people just keep to themselves, secrets that never get told, and thoughts never shared. One doesn’t blurt out to their husband or wife that they are boffing their secretary or their pool boy. One also doesn’t tell their best friend that they have the ugliest baby ever seen on the planet; in fact it is so ugly it should be in the Guinness Book of World Records. One should also make sure to compliment their mothers’ cooking, their wife’s clothing choices, or their boyfriends’ love for pizza, beer and football. That was the problem Baxter was facing right now. Should he keep hiding the truth, or should he start telling people his secret?
Truth was, Baxter was a zombie. He didn’t know how to tell people that he was one of the undead, especially since he was not the cool kind of undead. Plus, Baxter wasn’t a soulless monster, and he didn’t really want to be murdered because of what he had become. The idea that once he told people they would want to kill him, made him a little uneasy and he got this odd quivering feeling in the pit of his stomach, or the area of his body that used to be his stomach. Now he wasn’t sure what it contained, especially since he was unable to eat and feel sated.
Baxter believed that life would be better if he were
a vampire rather than a zombie, even a werewolf would be a better supernatural being. For some reason, vampires were cool, sexy; however, he was one of those beings who didn’t understand the cult that the pale, blood-sucking undead had formed. Why would anyone want to be immortal and have a taste for sucking iron-tasting blood? The only problem he saw with being a werewolf was the excessive hairiness. Of course, it hadn’t been his choice, so he guessed that he couldn’t be too picky about which type of immortal he was to become.
Death was the natural process of things. If he wasn’t so scared, he would welcome death. He knew there had to be a reason he had become a zombie rather than a corpse; he just had to figure out what that reason was. The answer might never come to him. Quite possibly he had become a zombie because of his own mystical karma.
As far as he knew, Baxter was the only human zombie that was actually living. He might even be what the movies referred to as “patient zero.” Since he was the only one of his kind he knew he had to be extra careful. There were people out there, medical and government agencies, who would want to experiment on him, test him, find out why he was a zombie, and find out how much of a danger he was to others. In all honesty, he wasn’t a danger, at least not since he had become a zombie. Baxter believed that you were what you ate, and eating people would make him a cannibal, at least this week.