February 17, 2017

Greets and Huggers. Posted the evening of February 17, 2017. Worked on my book this week. Introduced “the villain”:

“Derrick Nixon was not a happy man. The Chief Executive Officer and only shareholder of Environmental Fracking Energy and United Environment felt that some members of his sales staff lacked drive. He had read a book about the Luzier Color Inventory that purported to predict “drive” by what colors an individual preferred. Derrick had just fired two salesmen because they had chosen to do their respective offices in earth tone browns. Supposedly, earth tone browns were preferred by people who were contented; Derrick knew that a “content” salesman lacked the “killer” instinct necessary to close a sale. He was an expert on the bottom line; Derrick knew about “killer” instinct.

            Derrick Nixon, forty-seven years old, a graduate chemical engineer had always, “followed a different path”, (as his father used to say). The path had been a hard one strewn with the carcasses of those who had gotten in his way. He sat in his office on the edge of his large overstuffed executive chair, like a spider, viewing the silk covered remains of it’s latest victim. On the floor of his office sat two cardboard boxes containing the personal effects of the fired salesmen; plagues, desktop knickknacks and of course, pictures of their families. He remembered “Demetrious”.

            At seven, small for his age and sickly, Derrick had been a disappointment for his father, who had wanted a football player. The little boy’s mother had been dead for almost a year. He missed her terribly, blaming her for leaving him with an indifferent, unapproving, alcoholic father. Derrick loved his mother and she him. She had repeatedly told him how special he was, how smart and how she would never leave him; but she did. The little boy didn’t understand. A promise was a promise. As a result, the little boy, didn’t believe in promises; he didn’t trust anymore. He had only one friend; “Demetrious”.

            At seven, Derrick had a small world; a bedroom and a small backyard. He spent most of his time in the bedroom, engrossed in fantasies. He escaped into his books and the worlds they held. These worlds were populated with larger than life hero’s and villains. With his little boy mind, he learned to like the villains more than the hero’s; the villains were free to do what they wanted. The little boy wanted to be free but was not mature enough to realize that freedom always had its price. He thought the villains always lost because they made mistakes. Derrick swore never to make mistakes.

            The little boy looked out the bedroom window and wondered where he was going to get a meal for “Demetrious”. The bedroom was small, papered in dark little boy patterns, and had one window overlooking a weed invested back yard. The room contained all that the little boy held dear; some toys, a picture of his mother and his books. Lots of books.

            The window, though standard size, was double pane and had a screen and storm window attached and held in place by an aluminum frame. Trapped between the inside double pane window and the outside storm window was a spider; a garden spider. The spider was large, approximately one and one-half inches in length. The little boy had caught the spider in the backyard and carefully transported the insect between the panes of glass in his bedroom window. The spider was pampered; well fed.

            With fascination, Derrick watched the spider as it sat on the edge of a web it had built during the night. The silver edge of the storm window accentuated the dark colors and malevolent looking hairs on the spiders back. Derrick’s eyes searched the room for movement, hoping to see a fly, or an insect of any type. There was no movement.

            “Don’t you worry ‘Demi’,” he thought, “I’ll make sure you get breakfast”. The spider ground it’s mandibles and seemed to acknowledge the boy’s presence. Pulling on his clothes the boy left his room and headed for the backyard. Once there, he easily trapped a fly and returned to his room. Opening the window without breaking the web, he injected the fly into the spider’s space.

            The fly buzzed against the outside pane unable to comprehend the barrier that separated him from freedom and safety. He did not sense his danger; with his multifaceted eyes, he only saw a fly’s world; the yard.

            Derrick sat before the window, lost in the struggle between a predator and it’s victim; in his eyes a battle between good and evil. Derrick, had fixed the odds in favor of death, the ultimate evil. There was not enough room for the fly to avoid the web; escape was impossible. Demetrious, feeling the buzzing of the fly, vibrated the web causing strands to whip the air like a lasso. The inevitable happened quickly; the fly caught itself on a strand of web and buzzed helplessly. It’s struggle only caused it to ensnare itself further. Demetrious, grinding his mandibles in anticipation, followed his web toward the fly and pausing watched it struggle against the silk strands that bound it to it’s fate. In Derrick’s world, the villains always won.

            The fly, unable to escape and overcome with frustration ceased it’s struggle. It was a victim and like victims everywhere awaited his fate. Nature, in her great scope, does not allow suffering; does not allow pain for her innocents. The spiders venom paralyzed the fly; it felt nothing as Demetrious fed on it’s vital fluids. Derrick watched with satisfaction; his one and only friend had breakfast.

            Derrick Nixon smiled as the memories of Demetrious washed his mind. He had learned two great lessons from Demetrious; spin your web carefully and don’t make mistakes.

            “After all,” he thought, “Mistakes are only mistakes if you are caught.” Derrick had never been caught.”

My book is taking shape.

I didn’t have toys like this when I was growing up!! (BBC NEWS) — German parents told to destroy Cayla dolls over hacking fears. “An official watchdog in Germany has told parents to destroy a talking doll called Cayla because its smart technology can reveal personal data. The warning was issued by the Federal Network Agency (Bundesnetzagentur), which oversees telecommunications. Researchers say hackers can use an unsecured Bluetooth device embedded in the toy to listen and talk to the child playing with it … The Cayla doll can respond to a user’s question by accessing the internet. For example, if a child asks the doll “what is a little horse called?” the doll can reply “it’s called a foal”. Wow!! Think about the questions a kid can ask   … and the possible answers? “Cayla. Where do babies come from?” “Mommies and Daddies go shopping in the baby isle at Wal-Mart.”

Don’t think they would want my brain.(BBC NEWS) — Scientists appeal for more people to donate their brains. “Scientists are appealing for more people to donate their brains for research after they die. They say they are lacking the brains of people with disorders such as depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. In part, this shortage results from a lack of awareness that such conditions are due to changes in brain wiring. The researchers’ aim is to develop new treatments for mental and neurological disorders …   More than 3,000 brains are storied at the Harvard Brain Tissue Resource Center at McLean Hospital just outside Boston. It is one of the largest brain banks in the world. Most of their specimens are from people with mental or neurological disorders.” They don’t make tweezers small enough to handle my brain. Frankly? If you could convert my intellect into horsepower? I wouldn’t have enough to power an ants motor scooter around the inside of a Cheerio!!

Susan has made it home safely: she is in bed reading and watching TV. Her babies are on the bed with her   … later, I will have to fight for room. Any more, seems like our evening ritual. On Facebook, the anti and pro Trump nut jobs continue to feud. Like either one will change the mind of the other? I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t some form of political masturbation? Susan is off tomorrow, so we will start cleaning up the yard. This year, I want a raised bed garden. I have the requisite CCA Treated 12” x 2” x 16’ planks to build the beds. 3 beds, 16’ x 4’ x 12”. Getting the dirt to backfill the beds will be a problem. No football, so we have Sunday Lunch and a Movie. Lunch? Bacon, Chicken Stir Fry. The movie? “Manchester by the Sea [2016]”.

Time to post these Ramblings. Later … I will also say a prayer for the safe and soon return of our men and women in uniform, (care to join me?) I am now close to 4 years nicotine free. Be and sleep well, the best we have as a nation are on watch so you can. If my post offends, I apologize … that is certainly not my intent. As always …

A Warm Brotherly Hug

KarlT (the dumb old country lawyer from Holden, Missouri   …   now retired and living in Pascagoula, Mississippi   …   and the Editorial Staff)

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