Pie Will Be Served.

 

Those who have lain too long in a path of control are to be seen for what they so manifestly are. During the interval between the lining and then the scaling, I will approach the duly accepted one and place scripted remarks into the hand which steadies those of our tendency while we roam the byways in our best Fletcher-knit staging bottoms. I look to the side as items come up for review. They may sense a tension in my oblique which follows directly upon the word I received. With glove and comb and barling bell, no one is apt to give up on modernized procedures which have now earned us a blank, whereas before any who scorned us could be adapted for the pressure of fallen magnates. We always lead with our first, best standing pallet. And then if any of the looming practice charts are shown to be falsified, an attractive young lady may no longer find a place in our storied intrigue.

As we baste our lugs in an ornamental teething scrimmage, I am given to understand that his measurable quotient can no longer be ceded during the ritual burning of an Aspen log. We give that fire as well its due in a montage of braceleted hefts. But, however, a montage of the living code alternating under Stolbin's rule with a piece of likeable trade plankage is now roughly in a position to effect all who train under the reigning efficiency experts installed from afar by a downcast regime. In place before any of us were activated, it never ceases to register as a supreme empanelment. Our guilt may remove us to a living hallway, but it's unlikely that I will be allowed to witness the terms of the agreement being abandoned. It's as if no one thought to light the way to a frequent tomorrow. It is here in/on my brow. For comfort's sake, please abort your affection for the saboteur's ranching supervisor. I will serve them pie as well.

_____________________________   

The True Story of a Woman.

 

It would be fairly accurate to say that no one is starting to feel even a bit desparate. Why? Because, when people visit her, they go out of their way to let her know that her version of events is what really matters. For all they know, one of the chairs they sit on during these visits could be due for a major repair. But this is a detail she'd prefer to keep to herself. A particular friend of hers was out of town during a recent stretch and therefore could provide no guidance when it appeared that word got out. Normally she would stay cooped up in one of the smaller rooms, the one which usually smelled like real fur. This was a troubling characteristic for which someone would have to pay dearly, or not at all. The fact is, I'm with her about one or two mornings in your average year. This is when I help her form a not-so-vague idea about something which we're too proud to discuss. I have it on good authority that her late brother used to do work out of Chicago. Still, though, there have been major difficulties that a lot of us have had making things 'add up'.

It's when she calls me, obviously out of breath and in need of a rare skin treatment that I ask her to hold off, for her own good if nothing else. In more 'normal' times, she'd carry small bits of paper with her on her daily rounds, and, if she received any disappointing news, she'd leave one of the paper bits on an outdoor call-box so that future generations would know the meaning of true suffering. I was often required to submit black and white photos of her hands and testify to their accuracy under threat of financial sanction. The way I handled myself gave those in charge the (false) impression that I was an 'unlettered behemoth'.  The night that she was found in a Scarsdale, NY homeless shelter living an alternate life somehow made up for the fact that one of her dishes at a recent affair didn't live up to expectations raised in a local write-up. I used to take her Dad to the movies when he was just a boy. You'd swear that he just wasn't the type of lad to be involved in something like this. I'd swear that he had it coming from the get-go. Major experts in the field have opined that someone in my position could have a significant blind spot when it comes to ceding control to qualified expats.

The one and only time that she threatened to exhibit the telltale signs of remote candor reminded me to question whether I'm really cut out for this kind of hand-holding. And of course, I only meant that metaphorically, since I was repeatedly warned to avoid any actual physical contact with her due to unbidden ramifications. 'Litigious' isn't even the word. There's another one. Word, I mean. But no, I'm just not 'going there', if you don't mind. It's when we settled in to focus on her real problem that I noticed the swelling around her right eyebrow. And, not only that. She seemed on the verge of avoiding a gripping account of her time in the Altoona, PA Veterinary League. Why does it always seem that people who live near major bodies of water have a hard time controlling their functions? Because that's what hit me upside the head as we sat there, feigning interest in foreign policy quandaries. Other than that, there just no denying that we have a remarkable chemistry, her and me. And, you know what? I think I'd like to make a go of it! Would you be willing to serve on my Committee? The costs are strictly perfunctory. You'll be very sorry if I end up at a secure way-station. That's what they all say. Excuse me.

__________________________ 

Anatomy of a Reckoning.

 

The man who is on his way to a reckoning gives each of us plenty of space so that we won't be tempted to call him out. He negotiates corners on his own, even though this is the same man who had to be helped to open a common envelope just days before. Some have thought us hyper-critical. We label ourselves as merely prudent and proceed through our day without incident. Until, that is, the man, who falsely believes he is our mentor, removes a magenta curing poultice lengthwise from his rarely seen utility satchel and asks one of us the question that we've been dreading for years. There is no easy answer. But at the same time, your average person sees nothing wrong with coming and going if and when weather permits.

No one is too proud to admit that things weren't always like this. For example, if I thought it wise to approach a temporary officer in search of a modicum of reassurance, and even tried to sweeten the deal with a few choice cutlets, would anyone be surprised to learn that that very officer had, in the very recent past, tried to have my younger brother frozen out of consideration, especially when you take into account the lack of perfection on his part noticed by many of late? What I'm trying to say is that 'tough customer' doesn't even begin to do justice to what we have on our hands here.

One of my friends has decided to assume a false name and dedicate a few minutes each day to scoping out random passengers, their tried and true associates and various hangers-on to be named later. When I got wind of this, I made sure to confine the man to a room constructed for this very purpose alone. Even though each of us had made it known through our attorney that no one would be permitted to mill about the entryway without the all-important activity bracelet, we hadn't taken into account the fate of stragglers late to the colloquy of our cause celebre. By the looks in their eyes, anyone could tell that they weren't long for this world. In general, they dressed the part, but even as they rotated in tandem as per-force, alone among all the others, I could distinctly remember their lack of resolve when the cheapness of life made itself common knowledge.

Now, however, we go for bike rides after dinner in contravention of a living agreement. It's just 'where we are' in life which inspires neighbors to line the streets and dispense nuggets of wisdom long thought to be waning through disuse. I readily admit to being a stickler for the kind of detail that could get someone called insensitive. And, if they're seen loitering near a race course and others seek to give the impression of being well buttoned up, then why is it anyone's business if they intend to file inappropriate paperwork? It's just one more in a series of clips. And we're doing our best to compile them before our boys hear the news. Fear is never an effective step-mother. Just sayin'...

__________________________   

The Wallingford Vase Scandal Explained.

 

On pain of seeing her abscond with my Wallingford vase, I've erected barriers against numberless objects. One by one, they go to the 'fallen people' who ink dispositive documents to forestall certain disaster. If she decides to make a home in a hamlet not far from here, I'll be sure to apply pressure when and where it will do the most good. She will sometimes gaze longingly in my general direction, all the while studying my flaws in excruciating detail. Once through with her afternoon game, she'll be hard pressed to make a choice when it counts most. I can see that she is ready to move up in the general order of the things of this world. Without the comforts of available plant life, her gestures would be all the more puzzling to the uninitiated. We have pledged to obscure their faces. A genuine breeze helps when all else fails to hit the mark.

By the time we've driven over six-hundred miles, I can tell that she's looking for an opportunity to bail and seek her fortune in a dull suburban routine, courtesy of Sloane Bros. Consulting LLC. But setbacks are just not my stock-in-trade, nor even my cup of tea. This will take some major getting used to. For all I know, one of the children we've promised each other is even now approaching his thirteenth birthday and making do with the paltriest of paradigmatic playthings. Still, though, it's a quandary as to whether we should rent or buy. I'm for taking the coward's way out and initializing a quartertone leak augmentation. If anyone inquires about performance characteristics, I can set them up in a small lounge not far from here and they can take their good sweet time getting used to the way she moves when frustration gets the better of her. And by that I mean that I won't be throwing anything away anytime soon. Yes, you can quote me. I've got nothing to apologize for and neither do you. (Yes you do.)

I can't tell you how surprised I was (and still am) to learn that her estranged twin sister, Pamela Dunkworth, once dated NFL legend Vince Lombardi's son-in-law, Morris Biswald. I just never figured her for that kind of chick. I've been told that she plans to return everything she's stolen over the years and turn over a fresh leaf. Once my own operation is approved, I will count on numerous appearances in the Lower Valley to tide me over until I can see my way clear to mount a coherent defense. What with various showboats taking up all the oxygen in the room (to coin a phrase), I feel certain that anyone who comes to my aid can count on a two-figure settlement when this nightmare is finally resolved. There is every intention here in the community that no one who isn't part of our 'special club' should ever see the light of day again. And by this we mean no malice whatsoever. We just want to talk to whoever it is and lead them into a flimsy little trap. No one will see it coming. Unless, of course, they've been part and parcel of it all along. We'll see.. 

________________________ 

Yes, I've Had 'the Talk' With My Future Supervisor. (Are you sure you want to know?)

 

Everyone is asking me about the talks I had with my future supervisor last weekend. This was to see if we could arrange for a space where we'd be able to hold a getting-to-know-you session. The girl's parents could bring in all the items that they believe were used. People would be free to come and go as they liked. However, if anybody so much as utters a 'peep', then it could be that we'd just call it quits for the night and cut our losses while we still had time. The one thing the supervisor said which I'll never forget, is that last remark of his which I have trouble squaring with the way we've always done things. Bill and Loni Carlsen are staying in my Mom's guest room. Loni is most often up by dawn, and Bill only comes through town two or three times in the average month. I'd say that since I first got to know them on March 14, 2006 at 3:16 PM, they've never seemed like the kind of people who would make you afraid to go outside and walk near a building at night. Until now, that is. You wouldn't believe how much guff I've had to put up with. And it's all because I choose to make it very publicly known that my relationship is something I'm very proud of.

No one has seen fit to stop my activities. People feel that there are 'control issues' (their word) involved in the effect that I have on folks in mid-life. Like it or not, no one is about to apologize for leafing through some out-of-date magazine while waiting on an oil change. It doesn't take much to staunch a flood of vile innuendo if you know exactly how much pressure to apply, the circumstances, the victims, their insurance coverage, medical conditions, psycho profiles and the like. The way these things usually proceed is that an interested party will wait near the Lakefront. I'll stay behind in the car and my brother-in-law will do all the talking. We know all the bus schedules by heart, so, if the voices seem altogether too low, I can slip into a row all the way in the back and that should give us time to perfect our trademark imitation vocal patterns. With that in mind, does anyone think it'd be too much to ask for a friend to come with us to help set up the stand? It also couldn't hurt if someone finds him to be somewhat attractive. His allegiances, though, remain a thoroughgoing mystery. And, to say that I've had my doubts, just wouldn't make me any more of a laughingstock than I already am! That's why I've asked the girl's parents to tightly grab my left arm if they're able to attend my upcoming release date.

________________________  

Good News About Our Infant Daughter!

 

He felt that it was only fair that his wife and her friend, Alvin Stegner, be allowed to watch the operation in progress for what seemed like hours. No one would linger afterwards to complain about lost wages, so there's that. Also, in case anyone feels let down by what happened at the end, they can rightfully console themselves with the fact that not many items disappeared over the course of several weeks. This was when everyone agreed that they had quite a bit to get reacquainted with after being held in-kind until the last of the radioactive bricks were securely stored in the basement of the Fever Tree Orphanage at 213 Westcott Avenue in Brearly, NJ 08725.

Now that he has met with various compliance officers who hold sway in these matters, he would no more embarrass his children in front of their escorts than he would enter one of his pets in a contest for which their preparation was spotty at best. Which reminds him, now that he thinks about it, when has it ever been a problem to wrangle a few of the local fellows to pony up a pittance and dance squarely on the move, even if sanctions had yet to be lifted? He liked that they always tried to calm some of the staff when they were on the verge of having a fit. Also, the one time that he took them for all they were worth ended badly after they were seen in the tall grass without even a 'pretend' license. To say nothing of how the food had to be re-upped once she got back from her latest excursion to one of our finest institutions. It was there that all the tests were done and no one came out of it looking like a thousand bucks.

Why does anyone insist that he should walk through town in a way which causes offense to absolutely no one? If they can't get  the hang of it, then why did it get around that they hadn't been given a chance? Was it because of the time he spent going over placement sheets which were purposely hidden until the very last minute? No matter what any of them think, or claim to think, a very attractive young lady is now believed to be the last person to have seen the sensors removed in toto. This gives her a leg up when it comes to treading lightly on some of the feet which were extended on her behalf, come what may. If she could bring herself to make certain non-obligatory statements during a formal arrangement, then the least anyone else could expect is still something of a mystery. If the person who lives behind our house is no longer pestering the local scuba instructor, that can only be considered a pyrrhic victory at best. In which case you should expect that an interested third party will look you straight in the jaw and pronounce it 'done' for once and for good. The sad part is, though, that no one will ever know the name of our infant daughter who was adapted for a major made-for-TV movie. Expected release date: June 12, 2031. Goo.

____________________________ 

Your Doctor May Be Implicated.

 

Again and again and again we begin. Only this time we've got something quite possibly lingering at the four-quarter mark up one of our sleeves. If you ask me, this deserves to be looked into. And not only by one of your qualified experts. The person we're holding blameless is the one who, on more than one occasion, rubbed us the wrong way. Do you remember? This was when we stopped underneath an overhang because of possible contamination. No matter. This isn't about some kind of 'self improvement' factory. During that first Summer away from my family, I found that I was going about things in a way which some would pronounce 'ineffective'. Look, I'll take my lumps with the best of them, but, when it comes to keeping her priorities from overwhelming their pressure centers, I'm an old hand. Don't try telling that to one of the kids we've seen around here a lot lately. He likes to throw his weight around something awful. For my part, though, I just can't be bothered. It's not something I'd ever expect you to understand, though. What goes around comes around, am I right?

We like to arrange progressive encounters to lessen sensitivities by abstract portions. By the time it's one fifth of the way through the chute, all we usually have left is a miraculous coating. It's the one in your head which counts most in the estimation of the clients who've left us, however. To a person, they swear they've never met you before. No one here finds that remotely hard to believe. And that's because when you walk into a room, it's a fair bet that a personal breakdown is just around the corner. That's not to say that you haven't been given the lion's share of negative responsibilities. Far from it, in fact. I wouldn't be surprised if, on our return trip from the Civil War re-enactment, we hear a troubling rumor about your involvement in the Tracy Withers case. It's just been that kind of year, or, haven't you been paying attention? What you don't seem to want to accept is that this is for your own good. People who live in custom built homes shouldn't waste time lurking just out of reach. Children are very precious. Sometimes not even in a 'good' way.

Now that everything is on hold due to an unforeseen weather event, we've been stuck with two of the most outrageous medical frauds ever seen on my watch. Also, the smaller of the two devices has a crack 'this' big which shows no signs of being worth the effort to make things look as if they could end at just the right moment. At least two of my former colleagues have signed on to a phony cancer philanthropy to enhance their dating prospects. I used to spend a significant amount of time searching for possible forgeries in the long term parking facility they help administer through an oversight of their late Father. He's one of the few who I'd ever trust to summarize exo-planetary exploration in a future century. As for the Rector who helped him make his bones, you could take me to the cleaners, for all I care. A lot of folks around here claim that they've just about 'had it'. When the question arises, Had what?', the answer is always the same old 'You know.'. Look, I lived through four years of pure Hell in Vietnam, but that doesn't qualify me to cast aspersions on Senior Members of the Officer Corps. Far from it, in fact. Just for once, could someone help me obtain a position in a responsible firm? Normative order is never far from breaking out. But that 's just not going to help anyone make pardner anytime soon. See if I care. Then walk outside and look for something solid upon which to base your next series of restrictions. It can't hurt and it might possibly help. Why is that so difficult to understand? Please.

_______________________________  

Guidelines for New Members.

 

When it comes to new members, what we look for first is ever softer colorings. A gentle cooing doesn't hurt either, but that's usually reserved for the ones who enter into a confidential agreement. Either way, it'll be spelled out for the benefit of the most likeable suspects. By their trace grammar you can tell if during Summer months they are apt to seek redress from our aspirational mascot. This mascot no longer wears a costume, preferring to communicate his one-time status through Federally-mandated side-chalk work-arounds and other such impegumenta. The last one, as far as we can tell, has taken up residence way over our heads. This is a place where once in a while a lookout spots something. No one can be sure anymore what day we actually arrived. However, we ARE fairly certain that the shoes we wore coming in are no longer registering in our engagement roster. 

It was with a heavy heart that I was forced to return the gilded tea service which was a gift from Her Excellency the Honorable Chairwoman. We had been depositing indications throughout the Camp but her Assistant approached me as I rounded the curb to the final getaway and made like he didn't know of our 'special arrangement'. I took him into my confidence and shared a brutal exchange which I overheard just as the showers were letting out. He misunderstood and accused me of stealing a recipe from his library. I countered with a threat of random explosions. Anyone who might have been near could not have been in any doubt that this was all 'in good fun'. After I wiped the smile right off his face, I hurried away into the underground storage facility which, so far, no one had ever thought to prettify. Yes, you are correct: an artificial breathing apparatus is something which doesn't come cheap. Especially when names get thrown around by all manner of impotent acrobats. And that doesn't even BEGIN to span the spectrum of oddistic crybabies. For that you'll need to consult our printed works (i.e., it ain't on the fucking internet, okay?).

There's a tontic baige just to the left of where I'm currently seated. It sports a set of tragic holes on the underside. Each vent is rimmed with a spatial pattern reminiscent of the First Oakland War. Only one set of wheels will need replacing, the other having been converted over the years into a rolling clod. If you examine it very closely, you'll find not a few remnants of the Founder's sterigold invention. He made it plain before the accident that I was to hold a small bit of cloth between my teeth whenever I worked on it. I'd never had any qualms about requesting a back brace when I travelled inside to reveal a never-before-seen scar on my right thigh. Some of the younger members thought this was 'quite a hoot', to quote them directly. Others took to their rooms for the duration. I can't say I didn't have sympathy for both groups. They each reminded me, in their own way, of the time I lost a package during a snow storm. When you add in the vile comments issued posthumously by former Secretary of State Clark Clifford, you can see quite clearly why I could no longer carry water for Highland Park Police Chief Randall Jennison. What I learned is that, 'they just don't make them like THAT anymore'. Amen! 

_______________________________________

The Hazards of Driving Naked.

 

When the man, who usually wore a brown coat (but not this day), pelted our car with raw bumps, my sisters and I had every hope of living to see a time when we could adopt a scattershot approach. In the past I would always feel comfortable in lime-green tights, but something in the way the majority moved with nuanced stealth had me think twice about choices which were mine alone to make. The air in our home is enough to insure propriety for the long term and even though the dogs normally rest between shows in the corner of our blending room, I can't help but feel saddled with false accusations of micro-aggressions in the period leading up to a sanctioned activity module. Sometimes it doesn't even come when you least expect it, is what I was trying to tell you all along. Instead I bit my tongue, among other things. Chief among them being a Plenary Dialogue Ringtab Sheet. I still don't know where I put it. As if that really matters to people like you. Don't lie.

There are some who claim that one in five Stability Zones is apt to be primly tampered with. The through-line which we taught you to respect now leads in only one direction. You could imperil our decisive accomplishments with your nightmarish choices of casual attire. We sit and we wait. Then we get up and walk very slowly to the crack in the rim. This is where you can see them lying, all of a piece. Notecards circulate without any drama whatever. I keep my own wads underneath a leaky post. When the last one is almost used up, I fill my crib with a tabletop stint. I promise all the girls to hold off until we can each meet separately with a man named Jeremy Milner. This is the guy who featured prominently in the account I passed off to you in the parking lot of the Old Dutch Theater. Even though you gave me 'that look', for like the billionth time, I still can't help remembering how overweight your brother used to be before he broke the news to my folks. They've never been the same since. And, quite frankly, neither have I.

There's a basic comfort level in leaking these details to the general public, and not for the first time. Each of the folders I prepared are sitting right where we knew they were all along. With the help of our three youngest surgical nurses, we aim to arm ourselves with all the latest (and lamest) denials. That should keep them for the rest of the week. I can only hope to train my fire on the last living iteration of a solidified push-over. You'll know him by the way he braces himseif for an impact which never comes. Once the oil lamps are positioned on the pompoon, I'll check my hair for innoculated riblets. Then we'll take turns coaxing a sly turncoat out of his fetid squat. More than anything, it's obvious that I've let down our bravest exemplars without even having to shush them. And, when they do that, I'll know that my work is done. At least until I can arrange a three-day, all expenses paid holiday at the Old Sarleytown Youth Festival for you and your children. But please, don't bring this up when we're walking casually through you-know-where. It could be the end of 'something beautiful'. You have my word.

_______________________       

Thus It Begins.

 

It always begins the same way: He walks me through a randomized series of obfuscated doorways, complete with chaplaineers' despoilers and a limpid sense of morose entitlement. Then, he will pretend that we once met in an intercity bus operation where we both allegedly worked as mechanics' helpers. After that, we'll move on to unproven methods of birth control, only to be interrupted by a pastry service in memory of our Nation's Fallen. By this time, even though I've (officially) had enough, the temptation to just 'play along' usually overwhelms my dedication to anodized pentricide. So, I gather up a few former friends and we make our way to a feeding station on the South Side where a surfeit of babies patrol the perimeter in matching plaid jumpers while striving to even out wealth disparities in the lower thirty-seven. I've even had one call me up while I was at work and just 'lay it on the line'. He chewed me out and while he was at it, I thought I detected just a smidgen of regret in his otherwise adamantine resolve. When it came to working out at the end of a long day on the line, no one could hold a candle to the way some folks took their good sweet time getting settled at the wrong end of a pastinated garden hoe.

A very rare specimen of tabular vermin are now rumored to have escaped from Lab Station #4 and I'm being asked to lend a hand in the hope of preventing more deaths of despair in our Nation's mid-section. They're telling me that I've been given sanction by a minor poobah to, in a manner of speaking, lance the boil, and then book passage for the remainder to inhere in a novel switching experiment gone wrong in a premier publication of the same name. One way or another, the people who gave their lives in service to a broader loading principle are apt to face a slew of honors once our crew gets its act together in real time. Otherwise, as dependent children of irrepressible moptops can well testify, the only thing worse than capping yourself is hoping to see one give an illustrative example while bathed in the finest emolients that money can buy. I'd give my eye teeth to be involved in one of the search teams tasked with overturning Caskell v. Dorfman on a wing and a prayer. Unfortunately, not everyone made it through. Some were found in a rough part of one of the roominghouses that we've written so much about here in the last three years. The others weren't so lucky. Or lucky at all, if you ask me. 

The chain which links the sorry state of our preparedness to an overwhelming sense of incipient anoxia couldn't be more obvious. Even if you were deployed to a second country and required to fill out a prepared form, no one who entered your bed chamber uninvited would be under any illusion that your fixation on Bronze Age trivia would ever cut any ice with the Committee once we get our hands on the treaty violations of which you so manifestly approved. My sense of it is that you never had a solid upbringing. Some of us even doubt your grounding in basic Biblical Principles. And then, when you add in all the times we caught you standing near a building leafing through a stolen scrapbook, no one who was there that day wouldn't have had their appetite dissolved in a matter of seconds. It's crucial that you time your appearances to coincide with the onset of major topological disturbances. That way only a very thinly equipped gentleman of the 'old school' stands a chance of being blamed as a matter of course. Listen, I've held up my end. But, as usual, only a protracted struggle will secure us a spot in a coveted pre-teen beauty pageant. I'm bringing all my sons along for the ride. With you at their side, can anyone ever feel 'safe' again? Tell me you don't see the pattern here.

______________________________