The Start of Something Good . . . .

Who would have thought a short, little bald man, sporting only his underwear and a red curtain cape would radically change our lives for the better. What? No, I haven't hit my head. Nor have I visited the local psychiatric ward (although my kids would probably tell you that I need an extended stay there!). I am speaking, of course, of "Captain Underpants." The hottest thing since mac-n-cheese in this house.

I have been a confirmed bookworm since I recognized letters. I enjoyed reading so much that I often got in trouble for reading to the neglect of every other task. Homework time? Nah, I would dig into "Nancy Drew." Go to the movies? Well, if I must, but I preferred to read a great mystery. I was painfully shy and loved escaping into the worlds that one can only find in books. Reading always has been, and always will be, one of my greatest pleasures.

And then came children. I suppose it is the inherent arrogance of humankind that we expect our children to be exactly like us. Well, exactly like all the parts of us that we believe are outstanding. The reality is that you have given birth to a completely separate individual who won't act like you do, won't move like you move, won't like the same things you like, and probably will prefer things you cannot stand. While it was quite obvious to us that our son looked exactly like me as a child, it was also quite obvious that he was not shy. AT ALL. So his aversion to reading should not have been a surprise. But it was. Quite a shock, actually.

Starting with kindergarten, nightly reading assignments became a nightmare. A whining, crying, fit-throwing, yelling, nightmare. Since he prefers all things science and nature, I tried Magic Treehouse books. Flat Stanley. Geronimo Stilton. Everything. He was not interested in anything and would merely read because he was forced to read. No more, and no less than what was required. Last week, as a treat, I bought my now eight-year old his first "Captain Underpants" book. The change has been dramatic! He wants to go to bed early so he can read. When we tell him it is time to stop reading and go to bed, he cries that he just wants to read more. And if we have a particularly busy night and attempt to skip reading, he complains such that we make time. It is incredible! And finally, last night, he exclaimed, "Mommy, I just want to go read and go to sleep!" It almost brought tears to my eyes! Finally, maybe my kids can find joy in reading instead of complaining of being bored or wanting to play a video game. I hope there are many, MANY "Captain Underpants" books. Or else we're sunk.

So, here's to you, balding man in tighty-whities. You are my hero!

New Coming

In the spirit of October, I am attempting, once again, to post something for the Creative Writing Challenge Game hosted by M.L. Garrett, of Someday, When I'm Famous . . . .   This months words:  Depricate; finesse; gemma; mailed fist; and varicose.  The theme was jealousy, and the image was of gummy bears on a blue bedspread.  It was written quickly last night, there are spacing and voice problems, and it can use a lot of fleshing out.  But I had fun doing it.  Please be kind! 

*   *   *




New Coming.

            Olivia shut out the crisp, October evening with the faint scent of burning fireplaces in the distance, savoring the aroma.  Despite the chill in the air, she refused to burn anything in her  townhome’s fireplace; too many ashes, too much dust!  She quickly wheeled the overstuffed banker’s box marked “Parker v. Coming,” to a precisely-sized nook by the front door and placed her keys squarely in the center of the Blue Willow dish on the buffet.  The clock on the mantel announced the 7:00 hour, an unusually early return from the firm.  But Olivia had already clocked  sixty hours by that Friday, and she could easily make up the remaining twelve hours on the weekend. 

            After changing out of her navy suit and into her Emory Law sweats, Olivia turned on the television for company and surveyed her home with furrowed brow.  Deciding which section of the home to clean first would be difficult, but it had to be done before she could even begin to relax.  Her deliberations were disturbed by the obnoxious ring-tone on her phone.  Russell had recently programmed the thing to ring, “I Kissed a Girl,” anytime he called her.  She laughed, making a mental note to change it immediately. 

“Hey, Liv, whatcha doing?”

“If you must know, you’re dating the most ass-kicking second year associate in the firm’s history.  I’m finesse personified!  The lawyer for that spooky funeral director, Coming, looked uneasy.  I’m on track to be the youngest partner ever.  So, I thought I’d take it easy tonight and come home.”

“Ah.  And by take it easy, you mean you’ll be cleaning the house from top to bottom, right?  I was actually calling to let you know that I’m going to be late coming home from the nursery tonight.  But I guess that won’t matter, since you’ll be busy.”

Russ was a perfect match for Olivia.  He accepted her compulsions without ever feeling the need to depricate.  They were a part of her, just like he was becoming a part of her, too.  Maybe she would finally get what her spoiled sister had: a husband, 2.5 kids, a dog, and a house. 

“Aren’t you jealous?  Well, you know, its has been a couple of days since the last thorough cleaning, and this is a prime opportunity.”

“That’s fine, Olivia.  I’ll come and help once I get off.  I just need to help Frederick with a new hybrid orchid we’ve developed.  Remember, the one with the rare purple blooms?  It developed a kiki where the blooms fell off.  We’ll get a gemma from it, and propagate from there.  It’ll be a best seller!” 

Olivia reprogrammed her ringtone to “Every Rose Has Its Thorns,” by Poison, chuckling to herself.  It was much more appropriate to announce calls from her horticulturalist boyfriend.  Turning to the imagined disarray in her living room with mailed fist, Olivia began to tackle the dust on the ceiling fans as she worked her house from top to bottom. 

“We interrupt this program with breaking news in what we are calling the, “Heartless Souls” case.  Investigators say an eleventh victim has been found.  The latest body, like the other victims, was missing his heart and was found sitting on a park bench near the lake, posed as if he were fishing.  The victim has been identified as Samuel Jones.  Neighbors say Jones kept to a precise schedule and rarely left home after 6:00 p.m.  While investigators refuse to comment, sources inside the department confirm that, like the other victims, Jones’ home showed no evidence of a break-in, was locked from the inside, and the television was on.  Investigators are asking for your help in solving these crimes.”

Olivia stopped dusting to listen to the breaking news.  The rash of peculiar, unsolved deaths frightened her, and she quickly bolted her door.  While the goofy name the newscasters gave the case took away some of the seriousness, it was still comforting to her that Russell was coming home shortly.  She quickly finished dusting, wiping down, sweeping, and then mopping, before reheating  some pasta for dinner.  Looking over some notes from the Parker deposition at the kitchen table, she planned to research out-of-state cases on mistreatment of the deceased by a funeral home and the family’s resulting emotional distress.  But she was still perplexed by the behavior of one of New Coming Funeral Home’s assistant directors.  John Barnaby sweated profusely during the deposition, carefully selected his words, and repeatedly glanced toward the head man himself, Robert Coming, before answering.  Olivia almost laughed at Barnaby’s constant denials that New Coming Funeral Home had anything to do with the “shortening” of Michael Parker’s 6'5" body to fit into a cheaper, 6' casket. 

                                                           

As if on cue, Olivia heard the New Coming Funeral Home commercial coming from the t.v. in the other room.  Robert Coming’s head took up the entire screen, while he stared, unblinking and cold, into the camera, stating that funerals are expensive everywhere except at New Coming.  The commercial unnerved her every time she watched it.  His angry, hungry demeanor.  The way his varicose eyes stared through her, piercing her very soul.  But her thoughts were again interrupted by her telephone.

“Hello?”

“You need to know that he does it.  He craves it.  He needs it.  He . . . .”

“Who is this?  What are you talking about?  Please speak up, I can barely understand you . . . ”

“This is Barnaby.  You have to know he is not normal.  Not . . . human.  He has to eat to survive, and he can do things.  Things other people cannot do.  He needs a heart.”

“What are you talking about?  I will have you know, Mr. Barnaby, that I can and will use any information you give me against your employer in this lawsuit.  And if you are speaking of Robert Coming, I’d be the last person on the planet to disagree with you that he is inhumane and heartless.”

“Listen!!  Something worse than the treatment of Parker is happening.  Something bigger.  Any further investigation into this matter will place you in grave danger!  End this lawsuit now.  He has ways of . . . getting to people.  He . . . .”

“Hello?  Hello?”

Olivia hung up the phone and decided to go to bed.  Barnaby’s dropped call unnerved her, and she needed something sweet to distract her.  Tonight’s selection of tropical fruit gummy bears would hit the spot.  Reclining on her soft, French blue bedspread with her snack, she turned on the television, searching for some guilty pleasure, when the New Coming commercial came on again.  It was hopeless.  Not only had her busy day been consumed with the Parker v. Coming case, but now her evening was, too. 

“Funerals can be expensive, but not at New Coming.” 

Olivia felt uncomfortable staring into those eyes.  She leaned in closer, and it seemed Robert Coming’s head leaned in closer, too.  She was transfixed, her heart inexplicably started racing, and it was difficult to swallow her candy.

“Come to New Coming.”

Something was different about this commercial.  Was it new?  The script was different.  Coming’s unnatural gaze seemed to follow her movements this time.  Olivia eased closer to the t.v., wishing she had made a fire that evening, to ward off the chills.  Did Coming just smirk?  A breeze blew her hair towards the television, and she felt compelled to move in ever so closer.  

“Because I’m coming.  I’m coming.  I’m COMING!!”

*   *   *

“Good evening.  Our top story tonight, the strange disappearance of Nelson & Mullins attorney, Olivia Barnes.  Barnes is a Caucasian female, 5'6", with a slender build and shoulder-length, dark blond hair.  Barnes was last heard from by her boyfriend around 7:00 p.m.  When he arrived at her home at 9:00 p.m., he found her home locked and neat, her bedroom television on, and a few pieces of candy scattered on the bed.  Sources inside the police department will not confirm whether this strange disappearance is connected to the rash of odd deaths in town.  Police ask you to keep a lookout for Barnes and contact police immediately if you have any information.”