Wednesday, August 19, 2009

I have Traits! Rare, Hidden Traits!

"Tyler, please forgive us, but we have just taken a closer look at your profile. It turns out you're more special than any of us imagined! Did you know that you possess some very rare, hidden traits?"

So, it turns out that my Mom was right. There IS something special about me! And I have a letter to prove it! I even share some of these rare, hidden traits with a Famous Person (someone you would instantly recognize, he's on TV every night...). Can you believe it?

Only problem is, that I am not quite sure who wrote me the letter. They can't tell me any more than that they are "an exclusive association, a secret society". So I guess I can't really find out what they are all about, and why they have found me to be so special, can I? I mean, the only choice I have is to just fill out the "Free-Membership Invitation Form" and fax it back by Friday. (Holy Cow! That is just Two Days Away!) Then I can finally discover (absolutely FREE!) what my rare, hidden traits are and the "Greatest Kept Secrets" that will teach me how to use my rare, hidden traits to:
-Learn EXACTLY what to do to make $5,000, $10,000 even $100,000 CASH!
-Prosper in EVERY area of my life: emotionally, personally, physically, romantically, and financially!
-Learn how to control ANYONE and make any man or woman like me, admire me, or love me!
-All the money, power, and romantic love I've ever wanted can come to me Easily, Effortlessly, and Automatically!

Can you believe it?

Neither can I... (And I better not quote anymore of the letter; besides the ominous warning that these words are meant for me only, the whole thing is Copyrighted... You know, just in case I want to reproduce it somewhere...)

Well, fortunately for me, I have a friend. His name is Google, and he has tons of information on many different topics. Tonight, I asked him if he knew anything about the fax number at the end of this letter. Wow. The things he said! Let me just share a few of the more interesting ones...

The very first hit on the search is a site called "The Ripoff Report". Not an auspicious beginning for my new friends. But here I learn two things:
A. I am not the only person to have ever received this letter. So much for my "Rare" traits...
B. The mysterious "association" also goes by the name "Nouveau Society Neo Tech".
The rest of the information at this site is mostly opinion (including one posting by a supporter! Who is Not Paid at all for his/her Support!)

The rest of the results for searching just the Fax number are very similar. Lots of sites where folks list phone numbers of bill collectors, pushy salesmen, and fraudulent auto warranty firms. And, apparently, secret societies... So I moved on to search for the name of the (not so secret) association: "Nouveau Society Neo Tech".

First hit is a website called: "Corporate-Review.com". This site seems to review a few dozen common scams and MLM schemes. Kind of slim on real info, but at least it claims that the association is operated by a single family headed by one Wallace Ward (among other pseudonyms...). Mr. Ward has apparently written a series of books containing the "Greatest Kept Secrets" and membership in the association will allow you to purchase the entire series. (That's right... there is an entire series.)

Not satisfied with such a slim report, I checked out a few more of the results from sites like:
-419legal.org - Key quote: "Do we really need to warn you to avoid this one?"
-scams.net - Still pretty slim on real info, heavy on sarcasm. I did learn that this letter has been going out since at least 2005.
-able2know.org - A discussion board with plenty of supporters of the program. However, I honestly had some trouble following the logic of many of the "supporters" Key Quote: "They are selling they materials what about I bought the material even before I bought the material, I was being harrassed jobs after jobs coworkers telling me how talented I was, and I was just puzzled because I didnt tell anything, I have a video of Mark hamilton I guess" - Not too sure what poor Mark has to do with anything, but this was one of the more cogent sentences...
-wikipedia.org - Finally, that ubiquitous fount of internet knowledge. Finally some somewhat useful information, such as other names for the association, and some clarification on poor Mark. (Apparently he is a marketing official and has authorized his apprentices to drop the $350 initiation fee so that they only have to make a $100 sell to their initial contacts... Go figure. I thought it was free...)

So what have we learned? Not much more than I had already deduced when I pulled the colorful envelope out of the mailbox. (You know the ones, they are made to look like an airmail envelope.) A bunch of crap from someone trying to make their envelope look more important. And as I read the entire 8-page letter my stomach repeatedly churned with disgust. The entire sales pitch is aimed with laserlike precision at people who are despondent with life, lonely, depressed, and looking for a way out. They purposely word their pitch to sound like it has been personalized for the recipient, and that they genuinely care to help because "You are special!" And, in a hallmark move for any scam, they isolate and hurry their victims. "This is Confidential! For Your Eyes Only!" and a deadline only five days after the date on the letter. (Which was only two days after I pulled it out of the mailbox. Who wants to bet I could mail it back in four and they would make an exception for me?)

The saddest part for me is thinking of all the poor souls out there who will see this as their own personal light at the end of the tunnel. There has to be some response, for this scam to have continued for four years. Even scammers get tired of running a scam that gets no suckers. Why do people fall for stuff like this? As I learned a while ago, people fall for stuff like this because it hits them at precisely the right time. (Or wrong, depending on your perspective.) A man receives this letter on the day his unemployment runs out and the car breaks down again. A woman receives this letter the week after her teenage son takes his own life. A retiree gets this letter instead of the one he was expecting from his son - and has been waiting for for six months.

How do we combat it? The best way is knowledge. Spread the word to everyone you know. The three cardinal rules of scam recognition:
1. If it seems too good to be true, it is.
2. If they want you to hurry up and keep it to yourself, then put it down for a week, and talk to everyone you can get to listen to you.
3. If it seems too good to be true, it is.

Spread the word. Don't let someone you love be victimized.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Hi, my name is Karl...

This piece was written specifically for submission to the Piker Press for the Alien-themed issue on August 24th. As usual, this is the rough draft exactly as it flowed from my brain so expect some, well, roughness. The ending especially. I am going on record right now saying that a re-write of the ending is more than a little likely. Suggestions are welcome! Other than that, a pretty fun piece.


Have Fun!





Hello. My name is Karl, and I’m an alcoholic. I have been dry for three weeks now, though I did have a close call the other day with a half-empty I found under my bed. Thank heaven I made it to the bathroom and dumped it in the toilet before I lost the strength. I decided to come up here tonight and tell you all how I finally gave up the bottle.


It’s hard for me to say, because a lot of people laugh at me when I tell ‘em this story but I have come to love you guys like the family I ain’t never had, and I feel like I can tell you guys.

See, I was down by the creek watchin’ the fish jump... and I was spending some quality time with my buddy Mogen David (if y’all know what I mean...) I liked watchin’ the fish jump. It makes me feel good knowin’ that they are still alive after that horrible spill at the plant. Also, the cops hardly ever come down there for the smell. So I could sit there and get bombed out of my skull, and nobody would hassle me about public drunkenness or nudity or anything. (I did tell you guys about how being drunk also made my skin real sensitive?)


Well, I was well into my third bottle of Mad Dog when the lake got real quiet. The fish stopped jumpin’ and everything. I felt a little chill, which was weird cause I was still wearing my shirt at this point, and I was wearing my good boxers which are made of real heavy cotton so they normally keep me warm. I looked out over the creek, and even the water in the creek seemed to have stopped. I know it’s kinda hard to tell whether it’s flowin or not under that foamy stuff, but I couldn’t hear the normal gurgles and splashes of the creek sliding over the old car bodies anymore.


The sudden quiet and chill made me so nervous that I killed that bottle right then and there, and realized that it was my last. I was normally pretty good at timing my drinking so that I passed out before the booze was gone, but here I was conscious and nothing more to drink. And it was three more days before food stamp day, at least two of which I had planned to sleep through here by the creek. I started thinking of who I could bum some money off of to get just one more bottle and I stood up and started walking back up the trail towards the road. Before I got far, I heard the sound.


Now, before I go any further, I need to warn you – this next part get’s kind of bizarre. I know y’all have been here before and you will understand. But even so, in all my years of being a drunk, I never had anything like this happen to me. It was just so real! Most of the hallucinations I had while drunk were the normal kind, six-foot rabbits in bikinis trying to seduce me, the fire hydrant outside the bar telling my fortune. The kind of thing you laugh about when you sober up you know? But there ain’t nothing funny about what happened that night. I am getting some goose bumps just thinking about it.


Someone got a smoke I can bum? I just need something to calm my nerves enough to finish my story. Thanks brother, I will get you back next week when I get my paycheck.


That’s much better. I know, I’m just transferrin’ my addiction, but a man’s gotta have a crutch while his broken bone is mending right? There’s no way I can go back to drinking now anyway. Not after what happened after I stood up and started heading back to town.


That’s when I heard the sound. It was kindly like a cross between a whine and a rattle, like a car with squeaky brakes and worn out shocks going over the railroad tracks. Only it kept rising and falling, getting louder then quieter. I stopped to listen, and whether I was paralyzed by fear or hypnotized by the rhythm I can’t tell you now. All I know was that I froze like a statue. My back was to the creek, and I was about ten feet from the treeline. It was long past sundown, and the moon wasn’t up yet so it was pretty dark. But all of a sudden, I could make out every leaf on every tree. It was a strange light, just like the sound. You know how a spotlight looks? Like you can tell where it’s coming from? Even if you are scrunched way down on the floorboards of your car you know the light is coming from the cop car? This wasn’t like that at all. Everything was light as day, but there were no shadows, no way of telling where the source of the light was. And it had an odd purple tint to it, not enough to paint everything purple, just enough to be noticeable. Then the sound got real loud, like it was real close. I realized that it was coming from right behind me and I got the strength to turn around and look.


Give me a second brothers and sisters. I got to take a minute. This is the worst part. My hands are shaking so bad right now I can barely drink my coffee. Did they replace the coffee with espresso or something? Huh? Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood a bit. This next bit is the hardest to remember, let alone tell. Bear with me. I got to tell it, cause it’s been eatin’ me up inside and if I don’t get it out it’s gonna drive me back to drink.


So I turn around to look, and I see it. I know lots of folks call ‘em flying saucers, but this thing didn’t look like no saucer to me. Mebbe a hubcap off of some fancy car with all the chrome spokes and spinny things like kids have nowadays, but with some other weird stuff hanging off all over it. Whatever you want to call it, it was just hoverin’ there over the creek. Makin’ it’s weird noise and that weird light kind of, what you call it? Emanatin’ from it. Like I said, there dint seem to be any one source for the light, it just kind of... yeah, emanated from it. I wanted to run, wanted to run bad but my legs was paralyzed again. I just stood there, watchin it rotate slowly and kind of bobble up and down a bit.


I ain’t ashamed to tell you folks right now, that the only thing on my mind at that moment was another bottle of Mad Dog. I mean, I needed something to calm my nerves quick, and I wasn’t even really sure that my buddy Mogen had what I needed right then, mebbe something stronger even. Some of that expensive stuff that I don’t normally get to drink. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any scareder, just when I thought I was going to pass out from holdin’ my breath while my heart was poundin’ a thousand beats a minute, a door opened in the side of the thing.


I see a couple of you out there are looking a bit skeptical. Henry, if you want to laugh, you ain’t gotta hide it behind your hand. I can hear just fine. That bad batch of moonshine messed with my vision not my hearing. Like you ain’t never had a bad time before you got on the wagon. I heard some stories about you, so you can just knock it off right now. I got to tell this story before it drives me insane, so if you can’t control yourself, just go take a smoke break outside or somethin’. Cause I’m gonna tell my story and I don’t give a hoot who believes it.


I said the door opened up, but that ain’t exactly the way to describe it. You know, in our world doors open up and swing out, or in, or even up or down sometimes like a doggy door. Or they’ll slide off to one side like them automatical doors down to the Krogers. But this door just kindly... umm, well it just kindly opened up. I can’t really describe it too good. One second there was a smooth spot on the side of the... umm... the thing and the next there was big square hole in the side with more of that weird purple light streaming out. That’s when... that’s when...


Whyn’cha just leave Henry! Get out, and take that floozy Tara with you! I thought you guys were my friends, that we could share our stories with each other without judgement and without ridicule. Ain’t that the rules? Marsha? Dint you tell me those was the rules here? We sat here for hours last week listening to Henry whine and whine about how he misses going to the racetrack and I didn’t say a single word. I din’t complain when Tara whined about how she can’t hardly find a date now that she can’t go into the bars anymore. Who wants to date you anyway you used up old...


Sorry Marsha. I just got a bit worked up. You are right. I just been havin a hard time this week. You always say that the third week is the worst, that I jus gotta hang on for one more day. When I decided to tell this story to y’all tonight, while I was dumping that half-empty bottle down the toilet that was what I looked forward to to get me the strength finish. So you can understand if’n I get a bit touchy about that big mouth... no, sorry Henry. I won’t call you anymore names. You been a good friend to me. Until tonight anyway. Mebbe you are having some trouble of your own.


OK Marsha, I will finish my story. Whether Henry and Tara laugh or not, cause I need to get this out and I don’t care what they think about it.


So that’s when it happened. I don’t know for sure how I got on board, I don’t remember moving or walking or anything, but just like the door – one second I’m standing there in the purplish light on the bank of the creek, and the next I’m standin on a smooth floor in a round room. I know how crazy it sounds, but it was just like being in an elevator, only instead of square it was round. I was still paralyzed, whether with fear or with some kind of brain control ray or somethin’ I can’t tell. But I stood there staring at the wall in front of me and feeling that feeling in the pit of my stomach like you get in an elevator. These lights on the wall in front of me even looked like the buttons in an elevator, flashing on and off one at a time from bottom to top.


I just stood there paralyzed and trembling. I had heard stories like this before, but just like you Henry, I laughed them off. I could never believe that little green men in flying saucers came to earth and kidnapped folks. I mean, what for? But here I am, and for all I know it’s happenin’ to me. I tried to remember all of the stories I had heard, about people getting stuff poked into ‘em, having experiments done on ‘em and stuff but pretty soon I realized that was just makin’ me more scared. So I tried to calm myself down. It must have worked pretty good, cause in a minute I could start to move again. I turned in a circle, lookin around me and tryin to figger out what was happenin. Then I saw them.


Henry, I forgive you for being an arrogant arse. No, really. Were I in your seat I would be laughing just as hard as you. Don’t worry about it. I understand.


The little guys were only about three feet tall, and their skin was the same purple color of the light that filled the ship. The were’nt wearin anything as far as I could tell, but mebbe their spacesuits were just really tight or somethin’ like that. Anyway, they was just standin’ there watchin’ me. We stood there like that for what seemed like hours, just starin’ at each other. I must have really been feeling calmer now, cause all of a sudden I got the urge to just stick out my hand to ‘em like Grandma taught me. “Karl” she used to say, “if’n you’re feelin shy, just reach out your hand and say: Howdy” So that’s what I did. I said “Howdy” and stuck out my hand. I must have scared the little buggers though, cause they all jumped and started running around like crazy little ants. Openin’ little doors in the walls and pulling weird lookin’ tools out and wavin’ ‘em at me. Not in a threatenin’ way, but kind of like the bailiff waves the metal detector wand thingy at ya’ when ya’ have to go in the courthouse. Then, while I was watchin’ one aim a camera-lookin thing at me, another one snuck up behind me and poked me with a needle or something. I never did get a look at what he stuck me with, but I’ve had plenty of shots down to the free clinic in town, and I know what it feels like!


After that, I don’t remember anything else. I woke up on the bank of the creek and the sun was shinin’ and the birds were singing and the fish were jumpin again. It was like none of it happened at all.

Now, I know what y’all are thinking. That good ole Karl just had another bender, and that he passed out and slept it off on the banks of the creek and had a bad dream.

And you know, for a few hours, that was what I told myself too. That it was all a dream. That I just needed some “hair of the dog” to make it all disappear again. I thought that so much that I decided that I would wander down to the Krogers and see if I could steal a bottle or two and do just that. I did manage to lift a couple of bottles of Boones, not really as what I needed, but the idea was to get drunk again, and if I slammed them fast enough they just might do it. That was when I discovered what those nasty little purple men had done to me!


Henry, one day you are going to be having a crisis. You will be staring down a bottle of booze and considerin’ whether to stay on the wagon or not. And you are gonna need a friend to call. Well, don’t worry bout callin me, cause I won’t answer. If I do, I’ll go ahead and tell you to drink it. Cause you got no sympathy whatsoever. No Marsha, I ain’t gonna back off this time. Henry has made one too many smartass comments while I been up here bearin my soul to you guys. I ain’t takin it no more. I’m leavin.


Nope.


You can’t talk me out of it. I’m outta here. I’ll take my chances with the bottle on my own. Y'all can call me when Henry and that wilted flower with him aren’t here and I’ll think about coming back. The rest of you...


Good night.


© 2009 Tyler Willson. All rights reserved


Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Bob and Larry - Rewind

So the last episode of Bob and Larry was pretty... weak. I think the problem was that Bob is just not very interesting without Larry. I was trying to create a situation where they could get together again, but it never materialized, and before I knew it Bob's house was being destroyed by a tornado. So NOT the direction I was aiming. So just forget it ever happened. Here we go again. Perhaps a bit from Larry's perspective this time?





Larry got to the office precisely thirty minutes early, as usual. He parked in the same parking spot, third to last in the row next to the spindly weeping willow tree. He sat in his car with eyes closed for a moment, listening to the ticking of the engine and breathing deeply. A broad smile spread across his face and his shoulders relaxed.

"Time to face the day Larry!" He said, and opened the door and stepped out, stretching his legs and back muscles after the long commute. Reaching back in he popped the trunk and then locked and closed the door. Walking around to the back of the car he pulled his backpack and a red six-pack cooler from the trunk. He placed the backpack carefully on his back, even adjusting and buckling the waist strap before picking up the cooler and setting off towards the building. As he passed the weeping willow, he reached out his free hand and slapped the rough bark affectionately.

"Good Morning Old Man Willow!" he said, smiling up into the drooping branches. "Keep a good watch on my car, as usual!" Larry saw the bemused stares of other employees in the parking lot and waved cheerily. When he reached the door he waved his id card in front of the reader which beeped green, unlatching the lock. He pulled the door open with one finger and stepped inside.
"Good Morning Larry!" the receptionist said. Larry stood just inside the door for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim lobby after the bright morning sunshine.
"The lovely lady Lana!" he responded with a wide grin. "And how are those kitties doing today?" He asked as he walked across the floor to the reception desk. Lana's face flushed with happiness as she began gushing on about the latest additions to her collection of cats. Larry listened intently, asking questions and making appropriate noises to express his utter love of all things feline until Lana had to answer the phone. "Give them all a hug for me!" he mouthed to her as he walked away and she winked and nodded back.
Past the reception desk the cubicle farm began. Larry's cube was two-thirds of the way back, on the side opposite the windows. He could see outside only if he stood up and craned his neck around the support pillar, but he was fond of bragging about his "cube with a view" to anyone who cared to listen.
As he worked his way through the cube farm, he waved and greeted everyone warmly. Some responded in kind, others seemed to merely tolerate his cheerfulness, but nobody seemed to be seriously annoyed. When he got to his cube, he reached down and typed his login information with one hand, before even setting anything down. It took upwards of five minutes for the cranky old box to perform it's login routine, and Larry went about the business of starting his day while he waited for it. The cooler was placed precisely beneath the desk next to the laptop bag that he never used to take his computer home in. Next to the lunch box went the backpack. Being summertime, there was no jacket to hang on the hook just outside the cubicle but even so, Larry reached one hand out to caress the brass hook as he walked past on his way to the break area for coffee.
More cheerful greetings and brief conversations with those he met on his way and then at the exact moment that the hourglass next to his mouse pointer disappeared, Larry sat down at his desk and placed his steaming cup of coffee on the coaster just to the right of his mousepad. He had just opened his e-mail program when his eye caught the motion of the office door opening. He glanced up and the smile on his face froze for a second as he recognized the person who had just arrived at the office. Larry bowed his head over his keyboard for a moment, and took a couple of deep breaths. His lips moved silently for a moment, and then when he raised his head the genuinely friendly smile had returned and he stood and walked out of the cube, striding purposefully towards the man he had just seen entering the office.
"Good Morning Bob!" Larry's friendly voice rang out across the cubicle dividers. Bob's face reddened almost imperceptibly and his pace quickened. Larry caught up to him just as he arrived at the doorway to an office looking out over the cubicle area. Bob had his key out but Larry stepped in front of him and started talking about the hockey game. Bob stared blankly at a spot three feet behind Larry's chest while Larry prattled on, eventually asking Bob if he wanted him to get some tickets for the next game. The occupants of the nearby cubes watched eagerly, wondering what, if anything Bob would say. Bob never said anything to anyone except the Director. Occasionally someone would get an e-mail from him, but as yet, nobody had any idea what his voice sounded like. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Bob gestured towards his door with the key, ending the impasse. Larry stepped back so that Bob could open his office.
"Yeah, you're right Bob, back to the ole' grindstone! Have a great day!" Larry said and aimed a friendly slap at Bob's back. Bob sidestepped the hand and slipped through the door into his office and slammed the door.
Larry stood there for a few seconds, the friendly smile still on his face but looking somehow strained and out of place. Then, turning Larry walked quietly back to his cubicle and sat down in front of his computer. Once again, he bowed his head over his keyboard and breathed deeply for a few seconds while his lips moved silently. Then, with a small shake of his head he straightened up and reached for his coffee.

© 2009 Tyler Willson. All rights reserved

Monday, July 6, 2009

What I Learned from Summer Vacation


1. Four out of Five airsickness bags on any given airplane will have been sealed shut by previous thoughtful travelers using wads of chewed gum.

1a. This fact is most commonly discovered when your three-year-old is holding a mouthful of puke and turning purple while you frantically search for that one unsealed airsickness bag.


THANKS GUM CHEWERS! :-)


2. Bring your own headphones. The ones the airline sells for a dollar aren't worth that much.

2a. Cramming seven sets of cheap airline headphones in your pocket ensures that you will have something to occupy you for at least an hour when your kids want to listen to the movie on the next flight. Rat's nest doesn't begin to describe that mess.


3. Used Car salesmen are slick. Lawyers are slick. Politicians are slick. Rental car agents selling the extra insurance make them all pale in comparison. Seriously.


4. No matter what GPS and Google might say about travel time, when traveling with five children, double it. Then add two more hours. And bring a change of clothes. For everyone.


5. When debating whether to stop at the rest stop or not. Stop. Always. No matter how peacefully the baby is sleeping. The alternative is a seven year old peeing into the ditch while eighteen wheelers blow past at eighty miles an hour.

5a. Or a soda bottle in the back seat.


6. What happens in Vegas... is that WAY too many people really believe that just being in city limits entitles them to entirely turn their brains off and act like utter and complete animals. Then, with no sense of human intelligence whatsoever, they pack themselves into smoke filled caverns filled with mesmerizing money extracting devices and sit in place for hours consuming alcoholic beverages. This is called "fun".

6a. Also, in Vegas, "family friendly" means that the go-go girls are wearing tops.


7. There is a reason that hotel rooms at Casinos are so cheap. Because the only thing included in the price is the actual bed. Everything else, including the keycard to get in the room is extra. Kinda brings a certain clarity to those Holiday Inn Express commercials.


8. Paying $90 dollars to check luggage is mildly painful. Trying to carry-on that same amount of luggage in a pitiful attempt to knock it down to $30 is almost life-threatening. Don't do it. Grumble at the airlines for charging you, yell at the ticket counter people, but then pay the money and don't try to put yourself, five kids and twelve bags through the security screening. I am pretty sure the airline already had this figured out before they decided to start charging you for checked bags.

8a. The feeling in your hands returns after a few days. I don't think the damage is permanent. (I hope...)


9. Your perfectly calm, perfectly house-trained dog will go nuts while you are on vacation. If you tell the pet-sitters to put her in the garage to prevent any more "accidents" on the rugs upstairs, she will proceed to destroy the cat door trying to get back in the house.


(Remember when you thought it was cute that she stuck her head through the cat door when you shut her in the garage? Never thought she actually believed she could fit through that door did you?)

9a. Also, if you close all the bedroom doors, you only have to clean up the stains on the hallway carpet instead of every single floor of every single bedroom. Lonely dogs are VERY thorough.


10. Vacation is not really a break from stress. It is just trading the everday stress of life for an altogether new and surprising kind of stress. It is living out of a suitcase, having no set schedule for eating or sleeping, spending money because you have no choice, or because you don't have time to think about it. It is trying your best to visit all of the places, people and things you don't have time for during normal life, and failing to do half of what you planned. It is exhausting, exhilirating, frustrating, exciting, confusing, and most of all expensive. But when you finally pull into the driveway after it is over, you finally understand what vacation is all about:

Reminding you how great your everyday mundane life is, and how much you are excited to return to it.


10a. But that still doesn't mean I want to take another one for at least five years. At least not until all of the kids are old enough to drag their own carry-on luggage through security.
Article and Image © 2009 Tyler Willson. All rights reserved

Monday, June 15, 2009

Castaways Part II

Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved. Used with permission.


On the Piker Press this week, part two of Castaways.
I really like the second half much better than the first. The first needs some more polishing.
A special thanks to Sand, editor at the Piker Press and exceptional artist for the great illustration. Just for that, I am going to have to check in on Bob and Larry - see what those two crazy guys are up to!
Enjoy!

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Poached Eggs -vs- Chocolate


Today I welcome a guest writer to A Thousand Words. My wonderful daughter Claire. This is an assignment she wrote for school. I couldn't get a digital copy to add here, so you will have to do with scanned images of the pages. Enjoy! (By the way, the image quality of the document scan is much better if you actually click on it and open it in a new window.)
**Update** So my layout cuts the images in half anyway... so you HAVE to open the images in another window to read them all. Stupid interwebs...


© 2009 Claire Willson. All rights reserved - Used with permission.









Tuesday, June 9, 2009

The Sale - Part Two


A continuation of the randomly generated story plot I began here. Remember that everything you read here is an absolutely rough draft. If something turns out to be worth polishing up, you will probably eventually see it on the Piker Press. If not, then it will remain here indefinitely...


Part Two - The Sale



Leonard emerged from the lecture hall with Martha on his arm. They both moved just a bit more slowly than the crowd around them, savoring each delicious moment like a tender morsel. Tom felt his stomach heave. He would never understand why people allowed themselves to be in such a vulnerable position. Life was hard enough without giving someone full and complete access to your heart.

Choking back his distaste, he forced his mind to center on the sales pitch he had perfected over the years.


"Mr. Leonard Price? My name is Tom Pritchett and I represent ArchoSoft media solutions. I believe we have a lunch appointment?" Tom stepped in front of the entranced couple and stuck out his hand.

"Why don't you ditch the skinny ball and chain and let's head to the nearest strip club and see if we can pick up someone for dessert?" Harvey's voice was faint and fading, but the medication was slowly kicking in and Tom easily ignored him.

Leonard sighed, visibly annoyed to be interrupted. Then his eyes narrowed as he recognized Tom as the one who had disrupted his lecture. Martha's eyes never left his face, as if Tom existed in a completely different dimension.

"ArchoSoft is a very reputable company. I would have thought that their sales staff would be a bit more..." he paused, looking down his nose at Tom in disdain. "...well mannered." he finished. Tom flushed, and Harvey's laugh echoed through his mind.

"I am extremely sorry about that. I had a bit of an.... emergency to attend to. I assure you, until I was forced to leave, I was throughly thrilled to simply be in the presence of a renowned archivist such as yourself." The lie slipped off his tongue easily, the first of many he would gladly tell to secure this sale. Leonard raised an eyebrow skeptically. He knew Tom was lying, but he liked the sound of the story. Tom pushed on, seeing his opening.

"And this must be the lovely new bride. It is a distinct pleasure to meet you Mrs. Price, an accomplished archivist in your own right. It was with great interest that I read your theories on the benefits of random data selection using asyncronous algorithms for secure backup storage. Fascinating concept, and one which I hope the industry will soon implement on a large scale." Tom's shameless flattery paid off and he watched in satisfaction as Leonard's skepticism melted away as he beamed at his blushing bride.

"I didn't think anyone outside the industry would even know about those ideas." Martha said, grinning broadly. Tom nodded enthusiastically. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call myself an outsider. I have been involved with the archive industry for years."

Leonard wrapped an arm around Martha's shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

"You know Tom, we have been shopping around for the right firm to develop that very concept for the market. If we were to get a sweet deal on your new quantum storage servers for our new facility, it sure would show us that you are really interested in competing for first license rights..." Leonard winked conspiratorially at Tom, who returned the wink and grinned broadly. This was going to be a much easier sale than he had thought.


Lunch was long over, the waiter had cleared away the dishes to make room for the various brochures and charts that Tom had spread across the table. Although he was still confident of making the sale, Tom's patience was wearing thin. Every time he thought he had Leonard pinned down on the requirements for his project, he would wander off in some other direction. Several times Tom had thought that he had all of the information he needed to put together a proposal when out of nowhere, Leonard would request specs on an entirely different line of servers, or a different technology altogether. Sometimes the conversation would wander completely off topic and Tom would patiently push and prod and lead until they wandered back to the topic at hand. Finally, Tom decided he needed a break.

"Leonard, I need to use the little boys room. While I am gone, why don't you go ahead and finalize your requirements for me so that I can take them back to the office and work up a proposal for you?" Tom stood without waiting for an answer and hurried back towards the restrooms. When he got there, he bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He stayed in that position, breathing deeply and doing his best to calm his thinking. After a few minutes, he felt better and reached for a paper towel to dry his face. When he was finished he opened his eyes and froze in horror. Harvey and Mr. Mouse were back. Harvey was standing at one of the urinals, his pants around his ankle and Mr. Mouse was reclining in another, munching contentedly on the urinal cake. Tom stared at the reflections for a moment, reminding himself that they were not real.

"Hey Tom, I think we ought to take the geek and his pretty wifey for a ride somewhere. I bet if we ditch him and get her drunk enough we can convince her to dump him for us. Whatcha think?" Harvey's thin reedy voice was unaturally loud in the small restroom, and Tom flinched as he realized how much he wanted to obey Harvey's advice. Mr. Mouse nodded solemnly on Harvey's shoulder, giving his long earlobe a yank for emphasis. Tom wanted to close his eyes and shut them out. He wanted to run screaming from the restroom to get away from them. He wanted to dig out the bottle of pills and take one to make them go away. But more than any of that, he wanted to do what they told him.

"That's right Tommy boy. She wanted you from the moment she saw you. She only hangs out with that geek for his money. You show her what a real man is..." Tom's eyes widened as he suddenly saw the lie in Harvey's words.

Martha had not taken her eyes off of Leonard all night long. Only when Tom directed a comment or question at her directly did she even acknowledge his existence. Once again, Harvey had nearly convinced him to believe his outlandish stories. He remembered now how many times Harvey had led him down dangerous paths with twisted logic like that. With a heavy hand, Tom reached inside his jacket for his pill bottle. Harvey snarled menacingly and Mr. Mouse's eyes narrowed and glowed red.

"You don't want to do that partner. You know you want us around. Without us you are just another deluded stuff-shirt running around trying to fit in. We are the real you. Why can't you just give in and be yourself?" Harvey's argument, as well worn as it was, gave Tom pause. He didn't always like his boring, normal life. It was true, he dreamt of breaking loose, of selling his practical sedan and buying a Harley and hitting the road. Living off the land, drifting with the tumbleweeds. Doing whatever felt good at the moment, the hell with tomorrow. Harvey nodded knowingly, and Mr. Mouse hopped on a tiny motorcycle and started riding it around the restroom, slaloming in and out of the legs of the stalls.

"The hell with this sale Tom. Go on out there, tell that geek what you think and grab the girl and leave. Don't take no crap off of him. You been kissing his butt so hard I bet he can't even walk out of the restaraunt anyway."


At that moment, the door opened and Leonard walked in. Tom looked up, his eyes momentarily wide with panic.

"I was starting to wonder if you fell in or something!" Leonard joked as he walked towards the row of urinals. Tom gaped as he walked right through Harvey and Mr. Mouse. This was enough to yank him back to reality long enough to get the pill bottle out of his pocket and yank the lid off. He threw a pill in his mouth and bent over the sink for a drink. He looked back and saw Harvey standing behind Leonard pretending to spank him with a very large paddle. Mr. Mouse was now riding his miniature Harley in dizzying circles around Leonard.

"Well old buddy, " Leonard spoke over his shoulder as he continued to urinate. "I think we finally got this deal hammered out. How long you think it will take to write up that proposal?" Tom flinched as Harvey produced a long samurai sword and began slashing through Leonard with it. Steeling himself, he answered as calmly as he could.

"I can have it to you by tomorrow afternoon. Do you want a hard copy or can I just email it on over?" Leonard seemed not to notice Tom's labored voice. "E-mail is fine. This is the twenty-first century isn't it?" he answered, zipping up his pants. Tom was relieved to see that Harvey and Mr. Mouse were now translucent and fading fast. Still, the campfire they had kindled around Leonard's feet looked pretty real to him. He fought the urge to cry out a warning to Leonard and instead bent down to the sink to wash his face again. The cold water felt good, and gave him something concrete to anchor himself to. When he had dried his face a second time, he opened his eyes and found himself alone with Leonard once again. Leonard was standing next to him washing his hands. Tom sighed a heavy sigh of relief.

"E-mail it is Leonard." Tom answered, hoping his voice was not nearly as shaky as it felt. He handed a stack of paper towells to Leonard who dried his hands and tossed them at the garbage can. He missed by nearly a yard, but he laughed and clapped Tom on the shoulder.

"Can I give you some advice friend?" He said, his voice cheerful and friendly. Tom felt relief wash over him. He knew that his episodes were very rarely discernible to any other person, but in his head he was always worried that everyone else in the world could tell what was going on in his head. "Never turn down advice from a friend is what I always say Leonard. Say on!" He answered, trying to make his voice light and cheerful. Leonard grinned broadly and stepped to the restroom door. As he opened it and stepped through, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Harvey may be a crazy old bat, but that Mr. Mouse scares me. Watch out for him. He's gonna do you in someday."


The door swung shut behind Leonard, and Tom was left alone in the dim restroom with only the sound of Harvey's laughter for company.

To be continued...?

© 2009 Tyler Willson. All rights reserved