Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Yelling at Clouds.

I'm an old man
Yelling at clouds
I can't be heard
Over thunder's din

What was
Is now the opposite
And I'm to believe
The opposite was truth.

But truth and falsehood
Are man's inventions
Something to explain away
Something to large to understand.


Monday, May 27, 2013

Edisto (Blogphilia 14.6)

We come back to Edisto
Here to listen
To the silence of the lambs.
Driven by the wolves of profit
To other, weaker pastures.

Pulling out our wooden spoons
We begin to eat our gruel
It's the only thing left from
Our trip in our minds.

Monday, May 20, 2013

Cleaning Lady

She is in the room again
Sweeping the floor
Dusting the blinds
As I go through the file cabinets
Of life.

I move to another room
And she is there again
Polishing the silver
Mopping up the spill
I had

Anonymous and silent
She moves from station
To station
Never to leave
My dream.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Ode to Joy (Blogophilia 12.6)



Steaming pavement ahead of me, I gunned the El Dorado down the Turnpike, wind blowing through my hair.  The 417 and Trashcoast Parkway faded into the rear view. No more Mickey for me.   A life long dream to stick it to man had borne fruit. I'd be picking up Mary in Boca and head to Candle Key.  She had most of the supplies for the boat.  Even if we are spotted,  a title search would trace it to a Grand Cayman shell corporation with a completely fictions board of directors. We'll drink and dance with one hand free, leaving the wreckage behind.

You see, I had perfected a scam.  Logging on to unsuspecting blog sites hawking Le Parfait.  The latest in super anti aging cream for women with lots of money and more competition.  Only, the site that I sent them to was just a mirror.  A perfect clone of the original where I gathered more information than their Experian account.  And over the last several months I had mined the data for those minute bytes that let me into the banking vault

Their individual accounts actually were useless to my scam.  Sure, there was several million dollars over the thousands of accounts that could have easily been converted with no trace, but that was chump change.  Instead, I had built an backtrace virus that would place worms inside the bank's files when I processed the orders. The worms would stay dormant until the command was sent.

For a while, running the scheme made me one of the largest wholesalers of the product. The orders needed to be processed correctly and on time to lay the appropriate cover. I set up business in an office park in the Orlando Tourist District to get it done. It was only a few miles from Air Cargo, and I could keep my onsite inventory fairly small for quick turnaround.  24 hours from receipt to ship was the motto at the end my end customer service ended up winning awards from J.D. Power.

And really, I was making enough money off the stuff to live a pretty good life.  House on a lake, four car garage and all the young girls I could bed.  All the trappings the good life in Orlando had and more.  But it still was just an overgrown small town.  All the Disney money and influence didn't change a thing.  The same social  families and the tabletop terrain had become old.  And the pressure to push the big button had become too much.

The command was sent from the server in Belfast 48 hours ago.  The code was pretty innocuous: "Liam loves Claire".  But within milliseconds, eighteen worldwide banks were lightened of over $200 million, routing out through 45 shell companies all over the world.  All in all, a total of 2.5 million transactions by 200 thousand computers worldwide over a six hour period.  It will take the bean counters years to find it all.

Yeehaw Junction.  I really shouldn't have stopped, but I needed to pee and it's 106 miles to Belle Glade and the next chance. No way to hold it that long.   Letting off the accelerator, I let the big, blue monster drift into the off ramp and into the service plaza.  Choosing a parking space down a bit from the doors, I shut off the car.

As the sun beat down on the pavement,  I could hear the chorus from "Ode to Joy" coming from a BMW parked at the gas pumps. The ultimate victory song. A short, stout man with horn rimmed glasses nodded his head in time as the gas flowed in the tank. .  Even I could feel my feet fall into time going towards the restroom door.  Just a few more hours and they will be singing it for me.  Looking up, a screen running a CNN story about the breaking bank scandal in London ran silently.

The sign pointing to the restrooms is next to the screen.  Smiling, I wave at the cashier and head back.  Ahead of me a young man enters ahead.  I notice his shaved head and star tattoo on his neck, but don't think to much about it.  I turn the corner.

Ow. Feels like someone just poked me.  Did you hear a noise? Why do I feel so faint?

The room swims and the sight of the young face looms over me.  "Keys?! Where the keys?"

The black steel barrel is the last thing I see. 





Friday, May 17, 2013

Oh. (M_Blank #107)

"Hey, Jerry.  I really appreciate this." Mike said as they pulled up to the bungalow.  "I really don't know what got into Jane.  It was something had possessed her."

"No problem." Jerry said. "I was wondering when she was going to blow.  You know I saw her with that black guy at the end of the block."

"Yeah.  That why I really didn't feel bad when all that happened with Susan.  I was prepared to pack up and go, but not to have a knife thrown at.me.

"I think I would have called the cops."

"Nah, It wasn't worth it." Mike laughed as he shut the car door, "Susan more than made it up."

They came up the sidewalk, Jerry stopped to pet Hal, the long haired cat as he wound his way around his legs.   Mike rang the door bell and then stepped back.  He really wondered if it was really worth it to get the few things that were left. The last image he had was Jane's round, scarlet face surrounded by the mass of curls and the 8" carving knife burrowed into the door jam beside his right ear.

Jerry broke the memory.  "Think she's home?" 

He shrugged and rang again. No sound came from the other side of the door, so he gently tried the handle.  Giving easily, the door slowly swung open, giving the full view of her naked, bloody body on the couch.  The two men stepped back from the threshold in shock. 

Then without saying a word, Mike pulled out the phone and called 911.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

On the sidewalk. (M Blank, Prompt #102)







Yeah.  Another day.  Can't say it wasn't productive.  You know, I really can hustle when I'm sober.  Carry a lot more, too.  Those Mexicans do know how to party and leave a huge mess for a guy like me to clean up.

Homeless?  Why, yes I am.  Thank you for asking.  How I got here is none of your damn business, though.  You are just like all those other do-gooder types.  Think I can't help where I am.  I do just fine.

Where I'm from ain't any of your business, either.  I got a life, just like you.  And I don't have to share it with nobody.

Now, Git!

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Doodlin' (Blogophilia 12.6)



Sitting in a midtown cafe
Looking for a downtown girl
As a moped runs by
She doodles in the corner

Is she the connection?
Valentine out of season?
Shot in a heart cup
What was she drawing?

Sliding over to the table
My cup nests
Next to hers
As I sit down

Not looking up
She adds the cup
To her doodle
Smiling,

Reaching over,
I take her hand
Spontaneous combustion
Waltzing in 7/8 time.
"I've been waiting
For my completion.
Wishing star light, star bright
It did come true."


Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Let's Dance (GBE 2 103)









I want to dance with you
Bringing the sun up
And puting it to bed
With my arms entwined with yours

I want to raise children
And grandchildren
And have them scattered
With my arms entwined with yours

And when we leave this plane
I want to rise with the sun
Set with the sun
With my arms entwined with yours.

So pour the glass
Take my hand
And let us drink
With our arms entwined with each other. 

Monday, May 6, 2013

Sales Pitch (Blogophilia 11.6)







In a non-descript suburban skyscraper outside Dallas, Tx…

Rrrrinng

Rrrrinng

“Hello.  It’s a great night here at Devil’s Quill communications. If you are going through Hell, keep going!  My name is Bale, how may I help you? 

Yes, we have specialized Wrath Telemarketing and E-marketing solutions to any annoying situation...You say your ex-wife did what?  Ran off with your best ex-friend Ray?... No, Sir.  We aren’t the company that handles adultery against spouses, that would be our affiliate Greener Pastures…She took the dog and kids, too? That is terrible! I’m so sorry, Sir.   Maybe could I interest you in our menu of wrath and false witness options?  We don’t do the violence ourselves, but several of our lying solutions have been known to end in the death of the recipient by playing on the human desire for control...How does it work?  We start with recorded life insurance pitches that emphasize the imminence of death and action needs to be taken to protect the loved ones. Appealing to the mothering and protection instincts always works like a charm  As we make our pitch, our proprietary virus software obtains all of her pertinent financial information and we send all her money to an account we control.  They can see it, but they and their attorneys are denied access for a variety of reasons.  As she starts losing control of her emotions, we then start an aggressive debt collection procedure in which unspecified legal action is threatened.  We slowly build the pressure up until any restraining element to her violent nature is stripped away and she lashes out.  At best  she ends up in prison, and maybe dead.  And we can offer this all to you for the low, low price of $500 and right of first refusal on your Soul at the time of your death.  A great bargain in any light…Yes, your Soul, Sir... Sir?  Are you still there?  Sir?”



I've got to improve that last line...