death in the rain - 3. the girl

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part three of forty-four

on one particularly foul and rainy morning, ray was sitting in the wendy’s on the corner, staring into a cup pf coffee, which was all he had been able to afford. the four amigos were at “their” table, and ray had seated himself by the front window, as far away as possible from them, something he did not always do. the four amigos were glancing over at him and smirking, like they were getting ready to open up on him on all cylinders, but were just… biding their time. suddenly the door opened and a gust of rain and wind came in and wth it a girl. she was wearing a raincoat with a hood that covered her whole head - like little red riding hood’s, but yellow. she flipped the hood back, revealing long blonde hair. she looked like a movie star. ray, and stan and the turk and umberto and vaclav, and the fifteen year old boy behind the counter, all stared at her. for a few seconds none of them spoke, as the girl approached the counter. “hey, snowflake!” stan yelled over at ray. “stop staring at that young lady! you’re invading her space!” and his three buddies laughed, but the girl approached the counter and ignored them. “yeah ,what are you, some kind of sicko?” the turk shouted at ray. “some kind of stalker?’ and the turk and stan laughed at ray, but umberto and vaclav kept their eyes on the girl. “i wasn’t looking at her,” ray mumbled. he was red-faced and flustered - the amigos got to him every time. “what’s that? you weren’t looking at her?” umberto growled. “why not? don’t you like girls?” and all four exploded in laughter. meanwhile the girl had reached the counter, and asked for something in too soft a voice for any of the five men to hear. bobby wilson, the young man behind the counter, had recovered his composure after the first shock of seeing her, as he was a very self-assured young fellow for his fifteen years. bobby got the girl a small coffee and she left, without ever looking at ray or the four amigos. “whoo-ee!” vaclav yelled as soon as the door was safely closed behind her. and all four started hooting and whooping like 12-yesr olds. bobby could not help rolling his eyes. what a bunch of jerkoffs! at the same time, he could not help feeling a little glad they were there, because he did not like to be alone with ray, who gave him the creeps. even though ray had never actually said anything to or suggested anything to bobby that bobby could put his finger on. he always just ordered what he ordered - usually just coffee - without making eye contact. ray was just a creepy guy. now ray had finished his coffee, so he was ready to leave. but then it occurred to him that the amigos would probably rag on him for “following” the girl. so he stayed in his seat for a couple of minutes, staring into his empty cup. the amigos left him alone. they were like dogs who had barked themselves out for a little while. ray thought about the girl. bobby and the four amigos had already forgotten her. 4. rules

death in the rain - 2. ray

for previous entry, click here

part two of forty-four

ray was a living creature. nobody liked him. he had no friends because he was a loser and nobody liked him. he did not talk much to other living creatures but when he did he always got into arguments. he had no purpose in life. ray was a watcher - a person who spent most of his life when he was not sleeping, in his room, watching television or streaming video. sometimes he just stared at the walls or at the ceiling. most of the time ray ordered his food from the delivery service. but sometimes, usually early in the morning. after a night of terrible dreams, when he was feeling especially ornery and restless, he would go out to eat at a mcdonalds or burger king or wendy’s. if it was a nice morning he would sometimes walk as far away as two miles, to a mcdonalds or burger king or wendy’s or even an ihop or denny’s that he had never been to before. but if it was not such a nice day he would go to the wendy’s on the corner. where he would almost always encounter the four amigos - stan, the turk, umberto , and vaclav. they were always sitting together at “their” table. ray didn’t like them and they didn’t like him. they knew ray was easy to rile up and they amused themselves doing so. they called him names like “sunshine” and “smiley”, and worst of all - “snowflake”. sometimes ray ignored them, but mostly he let them get to him. in another time, the wendy’s would have been a diner, ruled with an iron hand by a guy named gus with a cigar between his teeth, or a woman named sal with tattoos on her arms, and they would not have stood for any nonsense or let things get out of hand. as it was, there was always a teenaged girl or boy behind the counter - a different one every time - and they would just stare into space even if ray got into a shoving match or actual fisticuffs with the amigos. 3. the girl

death in the rain - 1 . billy

part one of forty-four

billy was looking out the window at the rain. what are you doing, billy? looking out the window. are you looking at anything in particular out the window, or just looking out the window? i’m looking at the rain. is the rain interesting? is it forming fascinating or beautiful patterns? not that i noticed. why don’t you write a novel? why would i want to do that? it’s just a thought. nobody is forcing you to do anything. oh, all right. i guess i have to. you don’t have to, i just thought you might like it. what do i need to start? well, you need a tablet, or maybe a pencil and a notebook - or pad of paper. which would you prefer? um - a pencil and paper. please. the nanny, whose name was celeste-maria and had a lush, full body, went to the old-fashioned desk that had belonged to billy’s grandfather and found an 8 by 11 inch notepad and a nicely sharpened pencil and gave them to billy. now what? billy asked. first you need a title. how long does it have to be? as long or short as you like. it could be one word, like “life” or “conglomerate” or “marsupial”. it could be a thousand words long, if you like. do you have any suggestions? well, i don’t think it would be a very good start if you could not even come up with your own title, would it? give me a hint. well… i don’t know… i tell you what. said billy, give me a title and then my title will be the opposite of yours. all right, said celeste-maria, how about life in the sunshine? then my novel will be death in the rain, said billy. there you go, now you are off to a good start. with a good title, you are halfway there. 2. ray

joe the fisherman

illustrations by konrad kraus

joe was a fisherman. but he could not catch any fish. he decided to give up being a fisherman. and become something else. he became a real estate salesman. but he could not sell any houses. and he gave up on that too. he bought s gun and hunted for deer and moose and wild boar in the woods. but he could not even kill a rabbit or possum. he went door to door selling bibles and encyclopedias. he sold a few bibles but no encyclopedias and he was laid off. he became a panhandler. but all he got was abuse and cold stares and advice to get a job. he painted pictures - mostly of cats and dogs and clowns - and tried to sell them in the street. but nobody bought any of his pictures. he put an ad in the newspaper offering his services as an assassin. but he received no responses. in despair he tried to write a best selling novel, but nobody wanted to read it. he wondered if he should start over and go back to being a fisherman. he remembered that the one thing he had had even a little success at was selling bibles. he decided to start his own religion. he realized that starting a new religion was a hard lonely game. but life is a hard lonely game. joe made up a god named mabu. but could not persuade anybody to follow mabu’s teachings. mabu appeared to joe in a dream and called him a loser and a quitter. but joe would not quit. he decided to carry on. and he is carrying on. somewhere he is walking the earth, still trying this and that, always something new when the last thing falls through. joe is not giving up. how about you?

that simple

ralph and pete were roommates. they had some things in common, others not so much. but they both paid their share of the rent on time , so they stayed together as the months and years went by. ralph worked in a drugstore, pete in the bakery section of a supermarket. at the end of the day, neither of them ever wanted to talk about their jobs. neither of them had much interest in women, or fine cuisine, or even going to the movies. ralph had no formal education, but he liked to go to the library and read books to try to educate himself. he read books about astrology, and archaeology, and the history of the automobile, and arctic and antarctic exploration, and buddhism, and all sorts of things. he read the bible and the quran, and books by plato and st augustine and schopenhauer and heidigger and sartre and derrida and ayn rand. and biographies of cleopatra and mary queen of scots and stalin and hitler and winston churchill and j robert oppenheimer and so forth. he developed his own theories about life and history and the universe, and he would sometimes try to share these with pete. pete’s only interests were playing the lottery (on which all his dreams were centered) and betting on the races and on football. when ralph started expounding his ideas about life and history, and especially when he tried to relate them to current events, pete would listen with one ear, and if he responded at all, it was usually by saying, “it’s not that simple.” pete would then return his attention to the racing form, or to considering whether he should bet on the green bay packers or the arizona cardinals in the monday night football game. ralph was a little disappointed that pete did not take more interest in his theories, but on the other hand he did not lose any sleep about it. the days went by. one morning ralph got up and he noticed that pete must not have gotten up, because his coffee cup was not beside the sink. pete always had a cup or two of coffee in the morning and then washed the cup and left it beside the sink to dry before he went to work at the supermarket. after knocking, ralph went into pete’s room. pete was lying on his back with his mouth open. he was dead. had died in the night, without ever winning the lottery. ralph looked down at pete”s body. “you’re dead. pete,” he said. “it’s that simple.”

four for fun, part 2

illustrations by palomine studios

part two of two

for part one, click here

jerry woke up. he was lying in an alley. bright daylight hit his eyes when he sat up. when he opened his eyes again, he saw he was not alone. two people were standing over him. two uniformed police officers. a man and a woman, both young, both white. jerry smiled up at them. “good morning.” “good morning,” the male officer answered. jerry held his hand up. “think you could give me a hand?” the officer pulled jerry to his feet. jerry felt in his pockets. whew! his wallet was there. and his keys. and his phone. he looked in the wallet and his cards were there, and a few bills. jerry shook his head and showed the wallet and keys and phone to the cops and smiled at them again. “well, thank you very much, officers.” he looked down at the concrete of the alley and laughed. “i like to sleep till noon, but maybe not on that. bad for the bones.” neither of the two officers smiled back at jerry. “mind telling us how you got here., sir?” the man asked. “well, there isn’t much to tell. as you may have guessed, i had a little too much to drink.” “where?” the male cop asked. “where what?” “where did you have this too much to drink?” “oh - grady’s. grady’s, up on fourth street.” “were you alone?” “no, i was with some friends. we were having a bachelor party! “ jerry tried to laugh again. “i was getting totally hammered, and that’s the last thing i remember.” “how many friends?” the female cop asked. “how many? what difference does that make?” “how many friends were with you?” she repeated. “three. what has that got to do with anything?” “three? you were with three friends?” “yes.” the two cops looked at each other. the young woman took out a phone and moved out of the alley into the street and began talking into it. “you are going to have to come with us, sir,” the male cop told jerry. “why?” “you will find out. just come with us.” “what … what… do i need a lawyer?’ “that is not for me to say, sir. you have a right to remain silent, as i am sure you know. just come along with us.” * at the police station, jerry found himself in a room with detectives baker and collins. the room was pretty bare, but bigger and less intimidating than jerry would have thought from watching tv and the movies. the detectives asked him to repeat what he had told the two uniformed officers. “i don’t know what this is about,” said jerry. “but i think i want a lawyer.” “you can have a lawyer if you want”, detective collins told him. “why don’t you tell us what you remember about last night, and then we will tell you what this is about, and then you can decide if you want a lawyer.” jerry hesitated. “all right.” he repeated his story about drinking with his friends but not remembering anything after about twelve or thirteen drinks. “and that is all you remember?” “yes. so what is this about?” “what this is about is a young woman reported being assaulted by four men in colby park last night. colby park is the park right across from grady’s bar and grill.” “oh. we - my friends and i wouldn’t do something like that.” “no?’ “no, we all have girl friends of our own. and we’re white men.” “you do not say so?” for the first time it registered on jerry that detective collins was somewhat dark-complected. “i think i want a lawyer.” * jerry and keith got their own lawyers, and lionel’s and dean’s families got lawyers for them. after an investigation of six weeks, the district attorney's office decided it did not have sufficient physical evidence against any of the four friends. there were no witnesses to the reported assault, except for the accuser herself. who had prior convictions for shoplifting and soliciting. no charges were filed. but things were never the same for any of the four funlovers. keith’s fiancee canceled the wedding, and then broke off the engagement. the four drifted apart, with all except dean moving to other cities. jerry, keith, and dean all abandoned their secret lives. jerry and dean threw their secret notebooks in the trash and moved on. keith took to heroin, and to violent pornography, and his wholesome sound of music fantasies were forgotten. lionel found more solace in his secret life than ever, but kept it more of a secret than ever. when the sun goes down, and the world is dark, he can be found somewhere in the city, sitting on his mat, seeking nirvana. the end

four for fun, part 1

illustrations by palomine studios

part one of two

jerry, lionel, keith , and dean were the four funlovers. they would have been the four amigos but they thought that name was already taken. they had some great times together. you wouldn’t believe some of the shit they did. but none of them really knew the others. they all had secret lives. secret lives that they kept from each other, and from the world. jerry was filled with futility and sorrow. he was secretly a liberal. his dream was to go on a peace demonstration or a peace march, maybe even to washington d c. he filled up notebooks with a comic strip about a superhero named rainman who saved the world from global warming. when he was with the guys, or at a company party, he laughed at jokes about hillary clinton and al gore along with everybody else. keith dreamed of marrying a nice girl and living on a farm and having seven or eight daughters who would form a world famous singing group like the trapp sisters. he, keith, would get old and fat and have a long white beard and everyone in the world would know who he was and call him “daddy keith”. in real life he went to the gym with the guys and listened to rap music and to howard stern and talked about bitches and hos. lionel was secretly a buddhist. when he was fourteen years old he had a secret friendship with a geeky kid named vince. lionel let vince hang out with him when none of his other friends were around. vince had given lionel old paperback copies of “the dharma bums” and “zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance” and reading them had changed lionel forever. but he never let anybody know. he only did his buddhist things after midnight, when the world was asleep. dean had the most terrible secret of all, by a country mile. he was a closet racist and homophobe. like jerry, he drew comics in secret, but his were much more elaborate. he drew whole graphic novels about a group of superheroes called “the hunters”. each of the hunters was an outrageous and unconscionable stereotype - of a black, a jew, a muslim, a mexican, an asian, a gay man, and a lesbian. the villains and the secondary characters were stereotypes of other marginalized groups or just feminists. dean did nor know why he drew these comics, and he wanted to stop, but he just could not help himself. * their four lives went on, day by day. keith got engaged to a girl named laurene. the four funlovers had a bachelor party at grady’s, their favorite bar. they got totally shitfaced, even more than usual. jerry was the one most likely to get obnoxious when he got wasted, and to make unseemly remarks to women, and hostile ones to men. true to form, when it was almost closing time, jerry kept staring at a young woman who was sitting at an adjoining table with a slightly older man, and loudly repeating, “oh yeah… oh yeah…” the young woman was visibly annoyed, and the man turned to the funlovers’ table and said good-naturedly to keith, lionel and dean, “i think your friend needs some fresh air. it’s almost closing time, anyway.” jerry’s predictable response was “fuck you,asshole! fuck you! don’t talk to my friends, say it to my face like a fucking man!” and he lurched toward the man, but could not get to his feet. the other three got jerry outside, but they were all too far gone for the night air to do them much good. jerry, calmed down a little bit, wanted to find another bar. they had all come in dean’s car. jerry was the only one who thought he could drive, but dean would not give him the keys. jerry staggered away down the street, mumbling, “faggots… bunch of faggots…” it was a warm night. there was a park across from the bar, and lionel went over and passed out on the grass, between a park bench and some bushes. dean and keith settled into the front and back seats of dean’s car and fell asleep. on his own, jerry was lost. he was sure there was another bar around somewhere, but where was it? as he stumbled along, he saw a figure approach. a young woman. alone. what a skank, thought jerry. he grabbed his crotch. “hey sweetie,” he addressed the young woman. she swerved to walk around him. jerry kept his hand on his crotch. “hey, sweetie, want to meet my friend henry? he’s a big boy. he knows how to have a good time.” “yes, i’m sure you and henry have lots of fun together. just the two of you.” part two