Nostalgia Beany and Cecil

Beany and Cecil was one of those strange and yet fun cartoons from my childhood. I had to just watch several on you tube to remember what the story lines used to be about. What is strange is the story lines seem somewhat adult in nature, such as the one where they visit “Lost Wages” Nevada. In the cartoon they change all the names of the casinos and the headliners, to something that sounds like the real name but it isn’t.

It was also strange to see that the song at the beginning was specifically different for the specific cartoon and then they went into the chorus which was always the same. I don’t have a funny story to tell about these cartoons but maybe you do? Please share in the comments.

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Door Ajar

I wrote this in August 2004 as a start to a short story. I will try and finish it soon.

Glenda absolutely knew that she had left the door locked and the alarm on. Returning home to find it unlocked and slightly agar was a shock to her psyche. All she could think about was what Ashton would say about this. He would surely blame her for not locking up. If by chance she had just “lost it” when she left and had not locked up properly no real harm may have occurred. If she had just pulled the door closed and it didn’t quite catch the wind could have just pushed it open. It occurred to her that Ashton could have come home and then left the front door open like this. His entire tendency was to blame her for each mishap of life—yet he was ever so irresponsible himself.

She had only come through the front door because she had been out for a walk. Otherwise, if she had left in the car she would have backed the car out of the garage after setting the alarm and leaving through the door to the garage. The front door and the sliding glass door were kept locked most of the time. In fact, their house was kept buttoned up most of the time except the weekends when they spent time on the patio barbequing. These facts  were not foremost in her mind but the fact that she would have been more careful to lock up when she left through the front door because this was not a usual routine and would have caused her to be more cautious. On her walk she had been in quite a fog trying to put together the events that had lead up to her walk. After all, she had been having more than her share of bizarre happenstances of late.

The next shock to her system came when she slightly pushed the door open. She was listening intently to see if there were any unusual noises just in case burglars were responsible for the door being ajar. She just about jumped out of her skin when the triple beep of the alarm check system went off. At that same instance a deep chill passed through her body and she saw a shadow fuse in and out of her from her left to her right side and then dissipate. A sudden amnesia overtook her and a fog settled over her mind. She wasn’t unconscious, just lost in a murkiness which her spirit was aware of but precluded any feasible conscious thought. Eventually, after moments unaccounted for she felt the haze in her mind lift.  She rushed though the house checking to see that everything was intact and found it so. The funny this was that many things seemed out place such as the towels left on the sink, Ashton’s shoes in the middle of the floor. Meanwhile she looked at the clock. It was 3:45 p.m. She had left for her walk at 12:45 p.m. and had checked again as she rounded the last turn and it had been 2:15 p.m. She had been lost in that mistiness for more than an hour and a half. As her mind woke up completely she fell to the couch put her head in her hands and shouted, “Sh-i-i-i-i-i-i-t, Sh-i-i-i-i-i-i-t, Sh-i-i-i-i-i-i-t ….WHAT IN THE HELL JUST HAPPENEDED TO ME!!!!!!!!!!

Ashton came in the door one minute later. He had just gone down to the mailbox for a few seconds. He had heard the loud shout she had made but was ready to panic as he had no idea why someone would be yelling in his house. When he saw Glenda on the couch his jaw dropped. He had just about been ready to call the police again to tell them there had been no sign of her.

Glenda had disappeared two days ago, sometime on Thursday afternoon. He had come home to a house with the door unlocked and ajar, the car in the garage, and Glenda gone. As far has he could tell the only things missing were her, her keys, and her I. D. was not in her purse.  He had searched the house for a note that may have fallen off the counter due to the breeze. A few minutes after being home and finding her gone he saw her cell phone on the charger. She always remembered to bring her I. D. in her pocket with some money, even if she was just taking a walk but she didn’t always take her phone. He had had no idea what she might be wearing. There had been signs that she had taken a shower, so whatever she may have put on he had no idea. He thought that perhaps he might be able to figure it by process of elimination if the police asked. Of course that had been his next move, to call the police. He had fully expected to have to have the 24 hour waiting period. He then proceeded to find a recent photo. He gave them one of the older ones but promised to give them a copy of the video they had taken two days before.

How God saved my life

Brave little girl risks death to write on the wall!

New Pollyanna

When I was about 5 years old my father painted the bedroom I shared with my sister. In the process, he discovered some crayon artwork that one of us had done on the walls. No one got in trouble for it, but he assured us that the next person who wrote on any walls would pay for it with their life. My dad was not one to make idle threats, and we all knew that graffiti was now an extremely dangerous activity in our house, and especially in our freshly painted bedroom. That probably should have been the end of it.

One day, not long after the paint dried, my father had a reason to come into our bedroom, and he spied a tiny spot on the wall, just above my bed. He moved closer to investigate, and as he got near he saw that it was, without a doubt…

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Tribute to my Brother, Craig Park

For Craig Park my Brother

 It makes me sad brother that you have gone

It makes me sad brother that you couldn’t have held on

It makes me sad brother that you did not let on

It makes me sad brother that you didn’t want to go on

I’ll miss you my brother in my heart you live on

I cry for you my brother I am not forlorn, but I still morn

Life without you will seem so very long

Though many years may come and go in my life your memory shall stay strong

Cindy, your sister October3, 2009 7:06pm

My brother committed suicide October 2nd 2009. He was my younger brother. I was glad my mother was gone already or this would have killed her faster than the cancer did.

Mr. Notion Part I

Per suggestions in the comments I updated this using Grammarly. There were about 3 mistakes noted.

Mr. Notion Part I

I do apologize to anyone who is reading this and sees that the post for Mr. Notion is out of order, date and time wise.

“AH! Come on get out of here.” yelled Andrew, “Don’t fill my crapper anymore with your residue! I ain’t seen such shit as when you have been in here and stunk the place up with your crap.”

Andrew had no idea who this homeless creep was that had been hanging around his MacDonald’s for about a week now but the three times he had used the restroom he had had to send in the clean up crew a.s.a.p. because the john had been totally messed up.

Mr. Notion, the homeless creep in question didn’t yell back or even acknowledge Andrew. He just slowly crossed the street. But then after he had gotten to the other side of the street he looked back and realized he hadn’t touched Andrew.

“May peace be with you and your needs, not wants be fulfilled.” he intoned in a booming voice across the street as he held his hand up palm forward as if to bless Andrew.

Andrew stood with his mouth a gap and initially felt some weird inexplicable serenity steal over him. Then he shook his head with a feeling of vexation and walked toward the group of employees gathered by the door.

Andrew also knew that this newly noticed homeless persons of this last week had been raiding the trash bins along with about 2 other homeless people he had seen recently hanging across the street waiting their turn at the bin after closing and after everyone had left for the night.

There was this weird limping lady with the longest gray hair he had seen on an old person for a long time. She nevertheless had found the time to comb it every day and she was somewhat presentably clean. He had heard the other homeless creeps call her “Angelica.” She was not very “angelic,” he thought with impertinence. Most of the time, her face was beet red and swollen. She spent a lot of her time looking at her hands and talking to them. He supposed she might have been a beautiful sane woman at one time but now.

The other bum was a man who appeared to be quite a bit younger than Angelica. Andrew didn’t know his name. He was quite the solicitor. Andrew already had 3 run-ins with him because he hung around and pestered the customers as they entered or left the store. He had even called the police one evening, but by the time the cops had got there they guy had bolted. Nevertheless, he showed up again a week later, but across the street this time. Andrew decided it wasn’t worth it to call the cops on him again.

Andrew continued through is daily routine of assigning tasks to his employees and went back inside after he was sure that Jose had washed down the men’s room thoroughly.

His employees probably couldn’t even use the toilets much fewer customers, after this homeless guy had been in there.

Another Excerpt from Mr. Notion

I know I started posting these out of order but there may be some benefit to this.

This post was updated 2/28/15 with a Grammarly check.

Part II

It was a dry winter so far, and Mr. Notion was grateful. His day to day existence was a little more than tolerable when it was a least dry. Even the wind was cooperating today as it had been for the last week. The previous week he had been unable to make his rounds, and his belly had suffered. Now he was satiated with the last of the leftovers from McDonalds and Burger King up the street from where he was now. Even though the cold winds did not blow he ducked into the laundry mat for a respite from the cold. He was having one of his most lucid moments right now. Going to the laundry mat was a small deviation from his routine but feeling so much better today he felt he was allowed this time as a sort of a holiday. ~1~

The pain of his life could flee away to the unconscious in moments like these, and as he sat on a bench bathed in the sunlight pouring in through the large plate glass windows, he soon was in an almost sublime state. Time was starting to heal snatches of the wounds of his psyche. “Even the worst nightmares of life can flee with the dawn and the cool subtle glow of morning light.” He thought this thought and then said to himself that he must write it down. The reality that he had no pen paper soon led him back to the nightmares. Over the next few minutes, coherent thought crept away slowly. He was back in his illusions again. ~2~

For a few moments more he sat there lost in his messiah complex. He didn’t imagine that he was Jesus, he imagined he was the real Jesus and the one before was a fake. There was another story which only he seemed to know, and there was a lost set of gospels. As he walked the streets he healed people and uplifted their spirits, and he never even had to talk to them, or even look then in the eye. His mere presence near them was all that was needed. ~3~

Let me tell you a little more about Mr. Notion. I shall describe him as extremely filthy. Matted long brown hair hung to below his shoulders, long fingernails were black underneath from soil that had been there for months, and I would say he hadn’t taken a bath in at least a year. Every crevice of his fingerprints was infused with black dirt so much that one would think no ink would be needed to take his prints. His head was complete with a beard and mustache which were also matted with dirt, and who knows what. I know there were even a few dried leaf fragments in his hair, and even lying on his shoulder. ~4~

A brown trench coat covered his frame like it would hang on a hanger due to the gaunt figure that it was on. At least three tee-shirts under a large gray sweatshirt could be found under his trench coat. He had on black jeans and gray woolen socks. There was a layer of soil on his clothes, but his particular outfit was only given him last spring–from the local shelter–so it was intolerable condition as far as holes. Big black work boots were on his feet. They probably fit him somewhat when he got them at the shelter but now they flopped as he walked. ~5~

He had been on the streets for as long as he could remember. Yet in his delusions he was not homeless, the whole world was his home. He ignored the looks of disgust in the eyes of onlookers. He knew deep down he was “The Messiah”, and that was how he could bear the torment. Finding time to clean up was not on his agenda; he was too busy healing the people as he walked by them. If he forgot one lost soul in his travels he would have to answer to his “Father.” He didn’t want to do that again. Because of that one mistake he was to wander the streets healing only those whom he could until his penance was paid. ~6~

Excerpts from Mr. Notion A Novel I am working on

As he walked into the brightly lighted hallway with all those white walls and no windows, a sense of claustrophobia hit him. The ceiling suddenly seemed very low and closed in on him. The cleanness of everything assaulted him and he almost imagined he was in that dream he had had when he was five and he had almost died, he had woke up in a place like this, although it was a vague memory. The narrowness of the hallway was accentuated by the rows of chairs on both sides of the hall where it seemed no one sat except one lone man at then end of the row on the right side. He hadn’t seen Paul in at least 2 years but he was so easy to recognize with his long flowing robes and that majestic salt and pepper grey hair hanging down almost to his waist, yet tied back by a string of leather. “Paul, dear Paul what are you doing here? I am glad to see you though….” Paul usually smiled and occasionally spoke, this time he nodded assent to Mr. Notion but never actually spoke a word. Paul’s smile was absent today. “We are in for some real troubles in this place, don’t you think?” Henry Notion said. Paul’s heavy brows seemed to be weighted down as he looked at him gravely. Meanwhile Jorge, the orderly who was escorting Notion to his room noticed this comment and how he was staring at something, even turning his head to look at a certain location on in the hallway. He never quite got used to the psychos who were imagining people and things that weren’t there. Suddenly, a shiver went up his spine as he saw something himself. It was a shimmery thing like in that movie Predator. There wasn’t anything there but there was a shimmer of the background right where this man was looking. Jorge said to himself a second later, it must be something to do with the heater and the slightly flickering florescent light which needed to be fixed.