On the writing marketing front,
my good friend, True Crime Author RJ Parker is hosting a St. Patrick’s Day drawing
to garner reviews for our novels. The prize is a $100 Amazon gift certificate. It’s
a fun deal which he’s also going to do in the UK.
I couldn’t stay away from my
Rick Cantelli, P.I. short story series. His partner Lois needs to attend an
aerobics class to keep her back rehabbed. She can’t get husband Frank
interested, so she recruits office secretary Shelly and double teams the
redoubtable Rick into going too. He knows it’s a setup to make him into a
laughing stock, but he has a couple surprises. The initially humorous escapade
turns into a business opportunity with Rick’s recently weird flair for
attracting female attention.
The story ended up at nearly
5,000 words, and it was as usual fun to write and edit. That brought me up to
over twenty thousand words for my five Cantelli tales. Rick’s doing so well in
my head, he might be into novel length far sooner than I had imagined. Working
on three projects at once, all very different, seems to be keeping the creative
impulse flowing. The third DEMON screenplay, new HARD CASE sequel, and my
Cantelli tales have been equally fun to dive around into. The only part of my
writing gig that’s been missing lately is the once in a while humorous
encounter at my automotive repair shop. I did get a guy who stumbled in on
Tuesday morning though. I held off doing an instant blog because I thought he
would be making daily ventures, but such is not the case. For this short
update, my 38th Avenue street denizen will be known as Hairof The
Dog.
I had just arrived at the shop
around a quarter till eight, opened the big door, and started my computer in
the back room. The motion detector went off at 8:15 AM. I looked up and a guy
about 5’ 6” weighing around 190 lurched in the main entrance. He’s wearing
shorts and a short sleeved shirt, with some kind of sandals. Mr. Dog didn’t
look too good as I walked up front to greet him. His eyes were at half mast
with the head tilted back slightly as if he needed to see better but didn’t
want to open his eyelids any further to get the job done. It was about 48
degrees in the shop that morning. I had on three layers of clothes and a work
jacket. Hairof’s nose was running, he couldn’t stay still without losing his
balance, and he was so far gone I doubt he knew where the hell he was. His age
was somewhere in the 40 to 55 range. It’s hard to tell in that condition. I
greeted him, and he immediately tried to put a few thoughts into words. Fail!
“Yeah… I have… this wheel.” Mr.
Dog begins pantomiming a circular item with shaky hands. “It… turns… and I… it
goes like this… you know… ah… has this… you know...”
No, I don’t, nor would I ever. “Sir,
I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Do you have a car that needs
repaired? This is an automotive repair shop.”
His brows knit and his lower
lip juts out along with his chin. It was obvious he wanted more compassion than
I had to give. Even the thought of a blog excursion wasn’t holding my attention
with Hairof.
“I…I’m trying to tell you!” The
Dog emphasized for me. Hairof immediately starts pantomiming a wheel again. Oh
boy. “You know… a tire… on a carriage… it has… a… you know… can you do it?”
Not having a clue what he was
describing in drunken detail, I had to opt out. “No sir, I don’t do that type
of work.”
Hands on hips with slimy face
jutted out at me to relate Mr. Dog’s incredulity at my answer, he loses his
balance from being in one position too long and stumbles forward. He corrects
his flight and utters an outraged, “huh?”
“Sorry, I don’t do that type of
work.” I reiterate for him.
“You don’t?!” Hairof can’t
believe it. The Dog is incensed I can’t fix what he has wrong.
“No Sir, I can’t help you with
that.”
“Fine!” Hairof spins too fast
and has to grope around a few steps in loose limbed fashion until he sees light
at the door. He hunches his shoulders and plows onward to the street and around
the shop corner.
For some reason the encounter did
not brighten my day. The lyrics to an old ‘Blood, Sweat, and Tears’ rock song
popped into my head – ‘Don’t want to go by devil… don’t want to go by demon…
just want to go naturally…’
5 comments:
Yeah, poor guy... It's sad and somewhat hilarious at the same time. At least he didn't throw up in your shop...
As for Rick Cantelli, great! Yes, a novel or a collection of stories. Go for it, Bernard, if he speaks so well to you.
We're gonna have to have a talk with your neighborhood peeps about being more interesting. They're slacking up on the job, lol. ;)
Good to hear everything's speeding right long, Bernad. You're in the zone!
I admit I was glad to get Mr. Dog out of my shop, V. At 8:15 AM, that's a long day ahead for Hairof. :)
Rick does speak to me. He and his partner Lois now have a running dialogue in my head. They have plenty of company. :)
Thanks, Raine. Yeah, the zone is still providing fuel. You're not kidding about the neighborhood. It's been getting down right boring around here the last few years. I'm hoping Mr. Dog was not a local so it stays that way. :)
Man you are running on all cylinders these days! :)
It's a great groove, Charles. The wave is moving along with no rocks in sight. :)
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