google.com, pub-4909507274277725, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0 Slapinions: October 2013

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Thursday, October 31, 2013

A Ghost Story

It was three in the morning when the ghost returned to visit Steven.

At first, shortly after his family moved into the house, there was only the sound of heavy, careful footsteps in the night. Alarmed, Steven would leave the imagined safety of his bed and venture down the hall, terrified of finding an intruder. But it was always the same; the kids fast asleep and unaware, the doors bolted, the windows locked.

In the morning he and his wife found it amusing, a curiosity to liven up the anecdotes they told about their new home. Neither, of course, believed in ghosts.

That was how it started.

What followed was a lull, two weeks of undisturbed and blissful sleep. And then, an escalation: the footsteps again, this time breaching Steven's room and stopping just beside his bed. After that the mornings brought no peace. The restless nights made tempers flare, and he grew angry each time his wife dismissed his claims, blaming it all on the shifting frame of a century old house.

Steven, for his part, was no longer sure what he believed.

Soon his wife let the news 'slip' to his mother. "I don't understand why you would worry," his Mom said, over his protest that the whole thing was blown out of proportion. "Our family has owned that house since it was built. The only people to pass away there are your great-grandparents, and even if they could come back, you know they would never harm you."

They were words meant to comfort, but did the opposite. He felt no kinship with a couple dead and gone twenty years before his birth. Nor could he fathom caring about his own descendants, at least those he wouldn't live to see. If there were angry spirits in the house, why would they be obliged to tolerate him? For the sake of a relationship four generations removed?

That was the night the figure appeared. There were footsteps of course, loud enough to wake him but no one else (although, to be fair, he never really slept well at night anymore, surviving on catnaps scattered throughout the day). They came forward slowly but confidently, as if the spirit no longer cared to mask its presence, and again, they paused by the bed. Ignoring his fear Steven opened his eyes.

Before him stood a shadow, a man-but-not-a-man. While there was no physical form, the shifting darkness that was its whole worked to craft an illusion of strength and bulk. Through the pressing, psychical weight of his fear Steven sensed a strange familiarity in the figure. Remarkably, he found himself begin to get out of bed.

Not yet, a voice said, and he had no doubt it could be heard only in his mind. Not yet.
That was the beginning of the end.

In the weeks to come Steven would spend his nighttime hours awake, fighting off sleep with a ferocity fueled by fear. His work began to suffer; his children, sensing something wrong, grew distant, and his wife, concerned, begged him to see a doctor. When he refused all pleas for help he found himself banished to the living room couch. For Steven it seemed a hidden blessing. The shadow man seemed contained to the upstairs level, and his few nights on the couch gave him his first true rest in months.

On the night of the final visit there was no sound, only an icy shiver that wrenched Steven awake with a stunning abruptness. The figure stood at the head of the couch, leaning over and staring - if it had eyes at all - directly into Steven's face.

Now, it said.

The figure began to walk away, heading for the kitchen. Steven's body, his mind, his very soul screamed caution, and he resolved to stay where he lay. It was a surprise to him, then, that he found himself on his feet and following the form. They entered the room together, and in front of his eyes the figure disappeared.

Here again Steven's body reacted against his wishes. His head screamed retreat, and yet he looked frantically for the figure, as if instead of vanishing he'd simply lost sight of him in a crowd. Through the pantry lay the door to the basement stairs, and the sound of the familiar footsteps. He opened the door(retreat!) and began to descend. His eyes had grown accustomed to picking out form and figures in the dark of night, and they came quickly to rest on a figure below.

On his way down his foot stubbed against an item on the stairs, and hearing it begin to fall he instictively reached out. His hand came to rest around a taped handle, and instantly registered it as his son's little league bat.

At the same moment he noticed the cellar door hanging off its hinges, and the glint in the shadow's hand as it rushed up the stairs. Before these thoughts were complete the intruder slammed into Steven, slashing at him in a frenzy. The first blow struck harmlessly against the bat.

A second later the man was on him again, grabbing the bat and tossing it aside before raising the knife for a final blow. Steven's eyes went from the knife, to the eyes of his assailant - and then to the familiar figure emerging from the dark.

Pitch dark arms ignored the blade and encircled the intruder's neck from behind, leveraging him up and off of Steven. It was then, only for a moment, that he saw the face of his visitor. There was no face as we know it, simply the impression of one, but in its imagined features was not one face but many; his great-grandfather and his father before him, his sons and his future grandchildren.

Even in the surreal chaos of that moment he knew in the end the fight would be his own. The intruder continued to struggle and the shadow grew paler, and in the dark Steven's hands found the bat once again.

Now, the shadow said, and Steven knocked the intruder to the ground.

He would see the shadow only once more in his lifetime. Years later, he and his wife would babysit their firstborn grandchild. In the middle of the night Steven stirred and wandered into the baby's room, and sat in the rocker alongside the crib. From the corner of the eye he noticed a shadow distinct from the darkness, but did not turn to meet it.

Together, they were content to stare into the face of the future.

- Me, 2009

Monday, October 28, 2013

Fish Armageddon!

A tragedy here today: one of the two feeder goldfish that have survived year after year was violently attacked by a rogue Molly overnight. A side fin was ripped clean off and there's a gash along its side. I removed the Molly, and tempering my anger, gave him to Smiley in a bowl of his own. 

Meanwhile the goldfish survives, obviously in pain, and much weakened. *fingers crossed* In addition, for three days in a row we've lost fish. A Black Moor died overnight on day 1 (but I had seen the ba*tard Molly attacking it the previous evening). A Beta followed on Day 2, and on Day 3 a red tigershark and a small feeder fish died. Grace is begging me to call Dale Czech for help, but I think that's just because she thinks he's cute. It's fish Armageddon around here!

The Christmas Wish List

Two gifts for my Xmas wish list

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Errands

A list of my errands to accomplish this morning before going to bed

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Someone stole my Groceries

Left a bag of groceries behind at the register at Pick N' Save, and of course someone stole it. The store employees were rude as hell about it, who knows why - it's not like I expected them to replace them. Ugh. That's why I get for not shopping at Aldi or Piggly Wiggly this morning.  F- Roundy's.

Just FYI

Available at Value Village on 27th and National

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Junie and The Sound of Music

Junie came home from school singing songs from "The Sound of Music", which they'd watched in class today. I'm super happy; I'd been trying to get them to fall in love with it, but good luck getting the kids to watch anything more than 10 years old at home. Now it's all she can talk about :)

Andy Pafko

RIP Milwaukee Braves great Andy Pafko, age 92

Monday, October 7, 2013

Three Thoughts

Ack. FB is rife with goofy political stuff as of late. 

a) Whether the Redskins change their name or not is not a political issue, it's a social and economic one - if the public and their $ demands it, it'll happen. Repeat, it is not a partisan issue and I don't blame Obama. Geesh.

b) the gov't 'shutdown' is not the apocalypse, and the people involved are not traitors. Disagreeing on how/if to fund this bloated corpse of a gov't is a legit issue for both sides. Calm down. 

c) I think Obama is a barely adequate executive who, to his favor, has continued many of the Bush-era policies and done a world of good re: student lunches. I didn't vote for him, I don't want him, I'll be glad when he's gone - BUT he's the POTUS and he will be for three more years, so I'm not going to waste my breath on pointless attacks or impeachment motions. Save your energy for 2016 when it'll do some good.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Vo Nguyen Giap

Vo Nguyen Giap, the history teacher turned General who helped drive both the French and US out of Vietnam, has died at the age of 102. He fought for the wrong side, but he was an opponent worthy of respect and so RIP sir, RIP.

Another Thumb Update

Around one or two in the morning my damaged thumbnail fell off, which is good, because as of late it had started to smell like rotting zombie flesh, and lets not forget the occasional pus that leaked out at odd times.  In the words of my wife, the whole thing is "Soooooooo unsexy." She is wrong of course; there's someone for everyone, and somewhere on Craigslist some nutty chick would pay good money for a swollen, pus-filled zombie thumb. If you know her, shoot me a message; maybe she can help me pay down that van repair.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Grumbles

Lisa, over my objections, vetoed a planned night out of town for our anniversary because it conflicts with Trick or Treat for the kids, and she feels its important we are there for the offspring that day. The weekend before is YaYas bday, so that's out, and the weekend after is just plain lame. It would have been our first night away alone since Job Prior, 5 yrs ago, and I can't say I'm not irked. When these buggers grow up and say we never did anything for them/cared for them/sacrificed for them, I have to remember to bring this up (along with a million different points).

The Van is Back

My van is back. The serpentine belt, tensioner, and something vitally important and impressive (but illegible on the receipt) were replaced. All things being relative, it wasn't that awful in overall price, coming in at just about 2x the cost of LuLu's teeth - and those things were just useless chunks of calcium. All kidding aside, I could use a nice bandage to stop the financial bleeding, but the important thing is we're back on the road and I've helped our moribund economy.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

More Car Repairs

Very bummed. Van went down with what sounded/acted like a broken belt early this afternoon, but upon inspection the belt is intact and all the pulleys are working . . . it's now at the shop and it'll certainly cost me more than I want to spend. Damn. And I just filled up the tank too, which part of me always views as a jinx. D'oh!

More Leaks

More alleged leaks from the supposedly confidential arbitration hearing for Alex Rodriguez. Former union head Marvin Miller was dead on; maintaining any semblance of confidentiality when dealing with the jokers at MLB is wishful thinking. WTH is wrong with the current leadership of the MLBPA??????

Tom Clancy

RIP the great Tom Clancy, author, age 66 :(.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

3-1

It's official, the Sad Sack Slapjacks are now 3-1 in my fantasy league after knocking off the league leader, and by morning I'll know if I share the top of the board.