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Thursday
04Feb2010

An update, of sorts

BIG NEWS: The crew over at Do Some Damage is planning a short story collection. Look for it in the next couple of months. The stories tie together by location, theme, and other ways I hadn't expected. You'll dig it.

John McFetridge, Dave White, Jay Stringer, Bryon Quertermous, Dave White, Joelle Charbonneau, and Scott D. Parker. What's not to love?

My contribution is more of a peak into the "retirement" of Oscar Martello. This story takes place just after "Terminal," which took place around the time of "The Desk." All taking place after "Missed Flight," which began his trip to NYC. OK. Glad I could clear that up for you.

"Nothing Personal" appears in the debut issue of the new Crimefactory. (And on the Kindle)

"Missed Flight" appeared in Beat To A Pulp.

"Code Adam" appeared as part of Patti Abbott's Flash Fiction Challenge.

"Terminal" appeared as part of Dan O'Shea's Flash Fiction Challenge.

"The Desk" appeared as part of the Friday Flash Fiction challenge from Cormac Brown.

 

So there's some background for you. And, here's a quick look, a draft of the opening:

->

“Just some asshat going through the wrong way,” the guy behind the counter said.

“You sure, Teddy?” a woman two stools down from me said. “I heard there were shots fired.”

Oh, goody. Shots fired. Someone watches too many cop shows. Teddy and the woman went back and forth for a few minutes about what would happen if shots had been fired. If someone had jumped the security line.

I was watching the guy back in the kitchen. He was wiping his nose with the back of his wrist, then digging in and making sandwiches for people. Using the inside of his thumb to scrape something from his nostril.

“Can I get ya, big fella?” Teddy asked when he and the woman had finished showing off how smart they were about airport security.

Still waching Booger, I said: “You got any pre-packaged sandwiches?”

“Got some little boxes of cereal, chief. Honey buns, too. You in a hurry? Gotta jet?” Then he laughed like he had trouble breathing.

I’d had to come through security to get here, so I didn’t have anything I could use to slice his throat open to help him breathe. Felt kinda bad about that. I turned my eyes to him, then my face. “Let me ask you again. You got any pre-packaged sandwiches?”

He stopped laughing. “No, sir.”

I ordered a beer. In the bottle. Didn’t want to take any chances. “I’m going back into the restaurant now. I’ll need another beer in a few minutes.”

I found a table in the back corner.  Half the tables had chairs on one side and booth on the other. A four-topper, I think they call it. The rest were all one way or the other. I sat in a chair, my back to the wall, took another look at Booger through the doors, and closed my eyes.

***

I let the darkness come, picked the room I was in last night. The paneling on the walls. The leather chairs. The chandeliers overhead glowing gold. And Johnny Quinn sitting at his desk, handling his business.

He was twirling one of his cufflinks while a woman held the phone to his ear. French maid outfit. Red lipstick. Poofy white things around her wrists. He leaned back in his chair, flicked something off his pink silk shirt, and waved the other people in the room out. A couple tons of scowl walked out behind me and closed the door. Quinn nodded to the woman who snapped the phone closed. Then she followed everyone else out.

I shifted in the chair. They’d taken both my pistols when I came in, so even a big lout like me had enough room to move around.

“Sorry about the misunderstanding at the airport yesterday,” he said. “Someone in one of the other organizations must have put a bad word out.”

“That’s an interesting conclusion,” I said. “How did you arrive at that?”

“Oh, Oscar,” he said, “You know I can’t go into the details of an ongoing investigation.” He pulled a cigar from his desk, leaned back, cut the tip, and rolled it around in his mouth. “Smoke?”

“No, thanks. More interested on what’s going on with the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

I looked at him, raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes. Your son. Oscar, I really don’t know how to tell you how sorry we all were about that.”

“I don’t see what you have to be sorry for,” I said. “Not like it was your fault.

He harrumphed a little. “No, of course not. Well, clearly they were trying to send us a message. I think that’s fairly certain.”

“Of course,” I said, putting both feet on the floor. “Another internal investigation.”

“Yes,” he said. “Well, something like that, of course.”

He was getting nervous. Hadn’t lit the cigar. Just moving it in and out of his mouth as he talked. “Something we have to address, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Could be why they moved against you at the airport yesterday. They knew you were coming.”

“Can’t imagine how they knew I was here,” I said. “I drove in from Chicago. Came straight here to talk about what happened to my son. Stayed for the meeting with Vitus. Then bought a ticket at the airport to go home. You saying someone here put out a call?”

“Oscar, you’re letting the death of your son cloud things for you.”

“They killed my son, Johnny. They couldn’t get to me so they killed my son.”

“I didn’t think you were close,” he said, finally getting his cigar lit.

“What difference does that make?” I said, standing up and squealing the chair back.

The doors behind me opened and a half-ton of guys came back into the room.


 

Thursday
04Feb2010

New DSD Podcast

My fellow DO SOME DAMAGE blokes/mates/pals were at it with the Skyping this past weekend for the new podcast.

This week is  Episode Four of the DSD podcast featuring Jay StringerDave White, and Russel D. McLean. BONUS: John McFetridge reads from his publishing-this-month LET IT RIDE.

Show Notes:

Richard Stark's Parker novels
You can get the podcast by: 
1. Visiting the iTunes music store

or

2. Visiting the Feedburner page.

 

 

Wednesday
03Feb2010

The Super Bowl Drinking Game

My dad forwarded this one to me. Enjoy ->

The Saints Super Bowl Drinking Game


1. Every time they mention hurricane Katrina, drink 1

2. If they show pictures of the City of New Orleans right after Katrina, drink 1

3.  Every time they say how much the Saints mean to the City of New Orleans, drink 1

4.  Every time the words "tragedy," "flood," or "devastation" are used, drink 1

5.  Every time they talk about how good Reggie Bush was in college, drink 3

6.  If they show Kim Kardashian in the stands, drink 5

7.   Every time they show a picture of Reggie Bush with a bat or say "bringing the wood" drink for 5 seconds.

8. Every time Reggie Bush gets negative yardage trying to run around in the backfield a bunch and outrun the defense, drink 1 and turn to the person next to you and say "I told you Vince Young should have won the Heisman"

9.  Every time Reggie Bush gets up and flexes his arms in that pose he likes to do, drink 1

10.  If they mention Tim Tebow for any reason, funnel a beer

11.  Every time they say that "it's destiny for the Saints to win" drink 1

12.  If they show footage of Katrina survivors at the Superdome, take a shot of cheap liquor

13. If they call Saints fans the most passionate fans in football, drink 1

14. If they say that the Saints, Saints fans, or the City of New Orleans "deserve" a Superbowl victory, drink 1

15.  Every time they say how good of a story the Saints are, drink 1

16.  If Jeremy Shockey pretends to be hurt after dropping a pass, drink 2

17.  When they show home movie footage of young Peyton Manning in a Saints uniform, drink 2

18. Every time they compare hurricane Katrina to the Haiti earthquake, funnel a beer and yell "bullshit!"

19.  Every time they mention Drew Brees as the Mardi Gras king, drink

20. Every time they show Archie Manning, drink 1, and mention how bad he sucked.  If they show old footage of him on the Saints, drink 5.  If they mention how tough of a decision it was for him as for whom to cheer for, drink 10.

21. Every time they show a Saints fan yelling "Who dat!" Or a sign/shirt saying the same, drink 1.

22.  If they show former Mayor Ray Nagin, drink 5 and then punch someone in the face

Other Rules not involving the Saints:

1. Every time they show Eli Manning in the press box, drink 1

2. Every time Pierre Garcon is mentioned with Haiti, drink 1

3. If Brett Favre is mentioned for any reason, drink 1

Tuesday
02Feb2010

San Diego Serenade

Tom Waits from 1976 doing "San Diego Serenade." Every once in a while you need this one running through your head.

 

I never saw the morning 'til I stayed up all night
I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out the light
I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody, until I needed a song.

I never saw the white line, 'til I was leaving you behind 
I never knew I needed you 'til I was caught up in a bind
I never spoke 'I love you' 'til I cursed you in vain,
I never felt my heartstrings until I nearly went insane.

I never saw the east coast 'til I move to the west
I never saw the moonlight until it shone off your breast
I never saw your heart 'til someone tried to steal, tried to steal it away
I never saw your tears until they rolled down your face.

Wednesday
27Jan2010

The Dog Days of Winter


We got a dog last night. Part Plott Hound and part Treeing Walker Hound, he's made almost exclusively of cool.

They called him "Omar" at the ASPCA and we were OK with that. Then we got to thinking he'd like a new name. "Omar" didn't seem to fit. My lovely bride suggested something with a Mardi Gras feel as we've been stuffed with King Cake for the past week. We settled on "Iko" -- a name that somehow fits.

As we were preparing to take him home, we found out that January is "Hound Month" at the ASPCA, meaning the fee was $20 instead of $100 for an adult dog. We spent the extra cash down the road at the pet supply store. Er, and then some.

The only problem so far has been that I was voted down on getting this toy for Iko: 

 

 


 

UPDATE:

How old is Iko? We think 2-3 years old. Seems out of the puppy faze, but still pretty frisky.

How much does he weigh? He's 51 pounds according to the ASPCA folks, which is in the full-grown size, I think. (Iko in the full-grown size, I mean. The nice people at the ASPCA seemed to be in their early 20s.)

What are you feeding him? Science Diet, cheese, a nibble of my ear about 3 a.m.

Does he like riding in the car? Quite fond of it. He laid down on the overpriced dog bed on the way home. No freaking out. No whimpering. Just chillilng.

Where is he sleeping? Last night he slept with his big, scratchy paws across my head. Which I wouldn't mind if we hadn't just spent $50 on a dog bed. In the clearance bin.

Are you crating him? He has full run of the first floor while we're out. I went home for lunch and he was in good spirits and the house was still standing. We went for a walk in the woods. He seems rather concerned about keeping his territory damp and smelly.

Has he peed on your rug yet? Not that I've noticed.

Does he have his own Twitter account? Not yet, though I have a feeling he will.

Is he going to insist you take him hunting? He has. I hooked him to the lead in the back yard and he took off at full-speed chasing the wind. I'm pretty confident he won't try that again any time soon.

What toys did you get him? Some squeaky stuff. Some fuzzy stuff. Nothing he likes yet. He doesn't seem to want to chase anything yet. His big move is to stick his nose under your hand or headbutt your knee.

We're still in the learning stage, clearly. Trip to the vet today for his physical and his worm shot.

He's a little jumpy and skittish, which could be 1) his getting used to stuff, 2) signs of prior abuse, 3) a chemical reaction caused by his uncertainty about the pending Apple Computer iSlate announcement.

More details as they become available.