Two men made their way down the side walk; they staying, clear of the aimless tourists, dizzy at being so close to fame. They dodged and weaved between those who had stopped to pose for pictures next to the brass stars embe dded in the concrete, laying hands on the granite that was once touched by Tom Hanks or Lucille Ball, not realizing they were placing their hand on the place Homeless Larry had last pissed.
The two walked with a purpose in single file, the one behind stepping into the phantom foot prints of the one in front. He did this so he wouldn’t wander off, as he had a tendency to do. The man in front made sure of it by periodically turning and pointing to an imaginary spot, directly behind him. “Don’t go wanderin’ off.” he would say.
The man in front was small of stature, spindly and quick looking, with rat like facial features. His upper lip seemed to be stretched taught over his top teeth, as if it were pinned there. This gave him the appearance that he was forever within smelling distance of something foul or gone over. His stride was sharp and determined, as though the devil himself was waiting on him.
The man behind him was sizably big and rounded, the polar opposite of the man in front. His cheeks were pushed out as far as his button nose, but not as far as his brow which kept his eyes shaded and mostly hidden. He walked as if his feet were having a hard time hearing what his head had to say. From time to time, one of his clod-hoppers would catch on the side walk and send a visible jolt through the big man’s entire body. Still, his stride was somewhat determined, because the imaginary footprints he was stepping on were resolute in their destination, if he got too far behind, they would fade in his mind and disappear from the concrete.
Both men carried a can of peaches for later. The big fellow would have eaten his already, but he didn’t know how to get the can open. It seemed to him, that every time they got something good to eat, it was always for later. He liked to eat when he was hungry. Of course he would still be hungry later, but just once, he would like to nip it in the bud.
It was hot out, “Hubs of Hell” hot. The sun had gone down hours ago, yet everything around them seemed to want to hold on to what was left of it. This didn’t confront the small man so much, but the heat played hell with the big guy, who could work up a sweat shaking out salt. “Are we almost to the work, Weeb?”
The little man didn’t answer, except to tell Tiddle to shut his hole. “Shut your hole, Tiddle.”
Weeb looked up and down the strip and tapped out a cigarette. The big man realized that they must have found their work spot. He was glad to stop walking, his feet were sore, but now, as always, Weeb was going to ask him to do things.
Tiddle stood still, just like he was supposed to, while Weeb puffed at his cigarettes and waved cars over. Most would just slow and go, but every now and then, one would stop. Weeb would point at Tiddle and chat with the driver. Weeb was trying to find their man. Weeb was forever trying to find their man. Whenever he found him, he would call out to Tiddle and say, “Here’s our man.”
“Tiddle! Wake up you idiot, here’s our man, let’s go.”
The big man shuffled over to the car, his clod-hoppers catching on the concrete a couple of times, twice jarring his bones.
“Here, let me hold your peaches for you.”
“Those peaches are for later, Weeb.”
“I know they are.”
The door locks around the car all clicked at once and the two men got in. It was always the same, Tiddle got in the front and Weeb would climb in the back.
“Just turn here and head down three blocks, there’s an alley.” Weeb would tell that to all the drivers. During the day, Weeb would always scope out an alley close to their work spot. Weeb liked to be prepared and look professional in his endeavors. He reached up and patted Tiddle’s arm. He could tell the big man was nervous, he always was. “It’s okay Tiddle, he just wants to lick and suck on you a little bit. You don’t have to do anything this time.”
Tiddle grinned his big dummy grin and tried to look less nervous than he actually was. Weeb had told him it was good for business, if he didn’t always look like he was ready to shit his pants at any given moment. “Hey Weeb, after this time, are we gonna have enough money to buy the ranch and some free range chickens?”
“Not quite Tiddle, maybe a couple more times. Keep your eye on the prize.”
“Tell me again, Weeb, tell me about the chickens.”
Determined to confront the hazy memories of his troubled youth, Oliver Matthews, a retired detective and confirmed bachelor, returns to the picturesque town of Henley-on-Thames for the first time in years.
Sarah Thompson has ten days on Maui to find her lifetime after lifetime soulmate. She is certain he is waiting for her there on one of the last remaining land masses of Mu still above water.
My second book is about a boy who has Asperger's Syndrome and is bullied to the point to where he shoots up his school. I have divided the excerpts from it into three parts: Before, during and after the shooting.
Two men made their way down the side walk; they staying, clear of the aimless tourists, dizzy at being so close to fame. They dodged and weaved between those who had stopped to pose for pictures next to the brass stars embe dded in the concrete, laying hands on the granite that was once touched by Tom Hanks or Lucille Ball, not realizing they were placing their hand on the place Homeless Larry had last pissed.
