Big Leather Couch: Monday Matinee On The Couch

Showing posts with label Monday Matinee On The Couch. Show all posts

It's A Blog...that's all...

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Wednesday, August 04, 2010 17 Of Your Sparks

It is over 4 years since I began exploring myself and my thoughts here on The Couch.

COUCH NOTE: MY BLOGGOVERSARY IS MARCH 16TH...

Tuneage Tutelage posts about music figures and bands like The Doors

Monday Matinees that came from my dark side and others done just for fun

Concert Reviews like the time Nancy and I saw B.B. King

Posts that contained Photography I took/take,

Meeting and Marrying My Love Nancy and the resulting celebration,

Birthday Greetings, and all the rest.

As of today 1,105 posts worth of Vinny.

In the beginning I was Yoursbond, then Bond, then I outed my true identity and Doctor Blogstein christened me Vinny Bond. I have only used one profile picture the entire time. As a matter of fact, one of my newer readers, the open, honest writer TECHNOBABE from "Technobabe's Adventures" even mentioned in one of her first comments that she had seen "the kid photo" around and decided to find her way here...very cool

In the beginning I wrote all my posts without using the word I. I always used the word "WE" as in myself and The Couch.

See, there is another example of something I continue to do. Capitalizing the words The Couch. Have you ever noticed it? I even find myself doing it in emails when talking about The couch (can't help it...my fingers insist on using caps).

Two areas I have avoided at all costs are my ex-marriage and work.

There was a post about work, written the first week I was here in Memphis and at the advice of a very wise man, I deleted it the next day.

I began The Couch while I was still living in NJ and married. I did not have a full-time job and freelanced sporadically. Things were tough. Money was tough. My marriage was tough.

Reviews of American Idol became stream of consciousness rants and posts making fun of celebrities kids names.

The cycle has been like a roller coaster. Readers shoot high up only to fall back down and then swoosh high again.

I have met some incredible people. Some were able to attend the celebration of Nancy and my marriage...more were invited but could not attend.

It has not been all good of course. There are four people I considered friends with whom I no longer have even a passing relationship. Three of them I could tell you the reasons the loss happened, but in the end it did happen. The fourth, well I can't answer that question, and probably never will. One day they turned on me and it was over. It is sad indeed. But as in real life, friends come and go.

We all have friends who do not understand our need to be A BLOGGER.

As I sit here I think of other subjects I could link to, my journey through the interview process and subsequent move to Memphis; some political posts; food posts post introducing new musicians which evolved into Music On The Couch, and more.

One of the problems is I have so many labels. Way more than I ever needed I guess. What about you...do you use the same basic group of labels or do you own a few hundred like me?

And now I have extended the "franchise" by breaking away those main subjects which have been found here since the beginning. You can see the links just below my header...have I done a good job moving everything or being current? Not a chance.

But I have good intentions, and that is a plus, right?

I do know I miss this when I take breaks. I also know there are days my mind refuses to allow me to leave anything of substance here.

I do know that I am a BLOGGER...I love being a BLOGGER and I hope to blog until the very last second I am able (which could mean a post on a weekend, the horrors!.

I do not bill myself as a comic or a philosopher nor will I try and tell you how to raise your kids. You will get some wit, some facts culled from reliable sources, some snarkiness at times and hopefully in the end I have not made you regret the 10 minutes you took out of your day.

Thank you, those who read and comment, those who read and don't, those who got here today because you were interested in buying a leather couch and Google fed you here and somehow you made your way to the end of today's pearls of wisdom!

Just Thanks!

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Wayback Machine - Monday Matinee Rerun

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Thursday, April 15, 2010 6 Of Your Sparks

What I have realized is I have done a totally crappy job of using labels for my posts. This post should have been a cinch to find, as it was part of my Monday Matinee On The Couch series, but for some reason it was not labeled correctly. As I am looking through my labels, I see misspelled words and people listed but with different spellings..ah heck, no way I can fix them all without re-posting half of my blogs and all y'all with Google Reader would kill me for that!

That said...welcome to the WayBack Machine to May 7, 2007 and one of my favorite Monday Matinee's.

CONCESSION SPECIAL
Two Hot Dogs, Fries, Large Drink
$2.50

The SURVIVOR concert was one Josh Spain had been waiting for since the ticket sales had been announced. Standing online for 15 hours had paid off with a third row center seat. March 13th could not come fast enough.

Josh had always been known as a loner, from the time he was a teen. Throughout his high school days he could count on one hand the number of people who had spoken to him. He could always be seen eating lunch at the far back table in the seat closest to the corner. Head down, shoveling the tasteless cafeteria into his mouth. His eyes focused on the book in front of him. His taste in books leaned toward the macabre; Stephen King, Ian McEwan and Thomas Altman were his favorites.

Josh was smart. He had received a full-time scholarship to the State University to study Electrical Engineering. When Josh moved into the dorms, he met his roommate. They said hello to each other and then spent the next seven months walking around each other, studying and sleeping in the same room. That was the extent of their involvement. Josh’s roommate was in all of his freshman classes but they never walked to class, ate or even helped each other with their studies.

When sophomore year began, Josh took a small, one bedroom apartment just off campus. This ended his eating on campus, isolating him even more from the rest of the student body.

He woke each morning at precisely 7:15 AM, ate the same breakfast of toast with jam and walked to his classes. At lunch, he would sit on the commons and eat the bag lunch of ham and cheese on white with yellow mustard and an apple.

After class, he would head to the library and study at a cubicle until 9:00 PM and then walk back home, watch TV for an hour and then go to sleep.

The isolated existence was only broken up by his love for one band Survivor. It was all he listened to, in the morning, walking to school, while eating his lunch, while studying. Just about anytime he wasn’t in class or sleeping. He owned every one of their CD’s and the only music on his I-pod was Survivor.

He had never had the nerve to go to one of their concerts, but this was the penultimate for him and he would be there when they performed this time. They were appearing in a Collier Auditorium in town. Josh had checked the local bus schedule and realized that he could get there, but would have to walk home, as the busses did not run at that hour. If he saved his money, he might even be able to take a cab back, but that was uncertain.

When the Saturday finally came, Josh woke with butterflies. Tonight he would get to see Robin McAuley, Frankie Sullivan, Chris Grove, Billy Ozzelle and Marc Droubay. His heroes.

Sure the band didn’t include Jim Peterik or Dave Bickler, two of the founding members, but they were still Survivor. Sure they weren’t the huge hit makers they were when they recorder “Eye of the Tiger” and “Is This Love”, they were still Survivor.

Josh checked the clock every 15 minutes, making sure he was not late for the bus. He had planned on taking the 4:20 PM bus. The schedule said the trip would take 45 minutes. The show was at 7:30 PM, but there was no way that Josh was going to be late.
The bus stop was a 15 minute walk, so to be sure he was not late Josh left the house at 2:00 PM.

It was 5:30 when Josh walked up to the auditorium. He was the first one there. He smiled and sat on the steps listening to his I-pod. For a little while Josh began to daydream that no one else would be coming, that his dream band would be playing for an audience of one.

Then his daydream was shattered as people began arriving. More and more people and Josh began to get depressed. He wanted to be alone with his heroes. That was unrealistic though wasn’t it?

Josh stood up and realized that the line was already forming. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ticket.

He looked at it again, as he had done hundreds of times over the last two months since buying it.

When the doors opened, Josh moved with the crowd. When he got inside the door a man held out his hand. Was he going to take his ticket? Josh looked at him and said “Sir, I need to keep this.” The man smiled at Josh. People hardly ever smiled at Josh and it made him a bit uncomfortable.

“That’s alright son, I just need to scan it to make sure it is legit. Josh held the ticket out, keeping two fingers on it while allowing the man to wave a reader over the barcode.

“Have a good time,” the man said. Josh just looked at the ground and walked in.

He looked around at the signs that told where certain sections were. He saw the sign for “Orchestra” and headed for the entrance it marked.

Entering the auditorium Josh looked around in awe. The theatre was smaller then he had imagined. It wasn’t much bigger than the movie theatre he used to go to as a boy in his hometown. This place had an extra balcony, but that was the only difference. Well that and where the screen was in the movie theatre, there was a stage.

He looked at the stage. There was their equipment. The drum set and the guitars on their stands. A chill went up and down his spine. Josh felt a small bead of sweat form on his brow. Now, why would he be sweating, he wondered?

He looked down the row of seats and, so far the row was empty. That day dream began again, no one but him in the third row. The band would see him and invite him up on stage with them. Sure he could not play an instrument and his singing voice had scared little children as he would sing along to his I-pod walking down the street. That did not matter Survivor would know he was their biggest fan.

He had begun sending letters as a teen. In a few, he even included pictures of himself wearing one of the twenty Survivor t-shirts in his collection. His letters talked about what the band meant to him. How he could not last a day without hearing their music.

Once, after his second or third letter, he found an envelope in his mailbox. Since the mailbox on the porch of his parent’s house was so small, the postman had to bend the large brown envelope to make it fit... When Josh pulled it out, he saw the label with his address on it and in the corner, he saw the band logo. He had been so excited, but he took his time to gently open the flap.

Making sure not to tear the envelope, he slowly peeled it open. As he did so, he imagined the letter inside, personally written by the band to their biggest fan. It would tell him how he was just as important in their lives as they were in his.

When he reached in he found a picture of the band with their autographs. Josh could not know that the band had not signed the picture, that was the job of people in their management company, but to him it was gold. He went to the store that day and found a frame and hung the picture right over his bed. When he went to college the picture followed.

He never understood why he never received another envelope from the band. Over the years he had probably mailed them 50 or 60 letters. He knew how busy such a great band was, but they could have at least sent a new picture when the lineup had changed.

Josh moved down the aisle and found the seat marked 12. To his amazement, it was in the very center of the aisle.

Sitting down, he looked up at the stage and a chill ran down his spine. There were Marc’s drums, Chris’ keyboards and Frankie’s guitars. He felt as if he could reach out and touch them.

Then Josh noticed the seats filling up around him. He was, once again, disappointed. “Did you really think you would be by yourself?” he admonished himself quietly.

A group of long-haired teens moved into the seats in front of him, laughing and slapping each other’s hands. For a second, josh wondered what it would be like to have friends like that, but then decided that it would be too hard. Friends took your time away from the things you wanted to do.

Josh had on a pair of chinos and his favorite t-shirt, from the original album, Survivor. The album had come out 8 years before josh was even born, but he had found a store that made t-shirts from a photograph and he had brought them a photo of the album cover, a blonde laughing dressed like someone in the military.

It had faded over the years, and Josh had considered getting a new one for the concert, but the band needed to know that their #1 fan, treasured his collection of memorabilia.

Josh realized someone had taken the seat to his right and turned to see a girl around his age. She had jet black hair with silver streaks, cut short. Was wearing a t-shirt just like his and a pair of jeans. Her eyes were surrounded by silver makeup and her lipstick was silver. She smiled at Josh and said hi.

Josh began to say hi and the words stuck in his throat. He could not remember the last time he had actually spoken to a girl. “Hey, we have the same t-shirt, cool,” said the girl.

“I had mine made,” Josh semi-whispered, looking at the ground, not able to make eye contact. “Me too!” how cool is that? We sit next to each other and we both had our t-shirts made. My name is ‘Silver Girl,’ you know, after the song. I just love Survivor. I think I am their biggest fan.”

“NO, I am. I have every album and have been writing the band and they write back to me!” Josh said. He realized he may have been a little loud, as the girl sat back and the guys sitting in the row in front all turned and look. They began to laugh and josh heard one of them say, imitating him “NO, I am!”

“Sorry.” Josh said, “Ummm, my name is Josh. Nicetameetya.”

“So, what is your favorite song? Mine is ‘Silver Girl,’ of course, but I love ‘Eye of the tiger’ and Children of the night’ and…”

“I love them all the same.” Josh interrupted.

That is when the lights went down and the crowd erupted in cheers. The people in the rows in front all stood up and Josh could not see the stage. Grumbling, he stood and looked to the stage. He could see men moving about with tiny flashlights leading others out onto the stage.

“YOU GUYS ROCK!” someone yelled.

Josh strained to see his heroes, and then the stage lights blazed and the band began to play ‘Reach’ from their latest album.

Josh began to sit and realized that no one else was sitting, so he stood there. The band was loud, so loud. Everyone was yelling making it even louder in the theatre. Josh never realized a concert could be so loud. This was so different for him.

On his left, Josh realized was a very large man. He had long grey hair and a beard. His arms were covered as far as Josh could see with tattoos. He looked like one of the motorcycle hoods Josh had seen in the movies. He was whistling over and over, the shrill piercing Josh’s ears.

On his right, the girl was dancing in her place. Josh watched her from the corner of his eye. She had big breasts and Josh realized that she was probably not wearing a bra. The lights from the stage were so bright and he could see her nipples getting harder and harder as the music continued.

At one point her hip bounced off of Josh. He almost stumbled into the biker next to him but caught himself just before banging into the man.

The song ended and the band went right into the next one. It was incredible to Josh how the whole place was singing along to the music especially ‘Silver Girl’ who, Josh realized had a very nice voice.

After the second song, Robin walked up to the mic and began to speak, “Hello! Are you already to have some fun tonight?” The crowd erupted in a cheer and Josh even let out a YEAH of his own. “We are going to play all the songs you want to hear, and hope you dance and sing along.”

The rest of the concert went by in a flash as far as Josh was concerned. As the band played, Josh found himself slowly begin to sway to the music and he even sang along softly.

‘Silver Girl’ was dancing harder and harder to the fast song. When the band began to play a slow song, she moved closer to Josh. This shocked him and then she had his hand in hers and was swinging their arms to the music. “Just like we are dancing together, huh?” she shouted.

Josh just looked at her and managed a smile. He had never held a girl’s hand before and he realized with a shock how nice it felt. Then he got embarrassed as he realized he was getting excited by it. What if she noticed what was happening? What if she saw the bulge in his pants?

He almost pulled his hand back, but liked the feel too much. They only stopped holding hands to clap after each song, and then she would take his hand again and sway to the music.

Then it was over. The band said goodnight and the lights went off. The crowd began to cheer louder than ever. Some held up lighters, others held up their cell phones. Josh began to move to leave, but ‘Silver Girl’ blocked his path. “Where ya going, they will be back for an encore. Haven’t you ever been to a concert?”

Josh looked at her, trying not to show his surprise. “Sure I have.” He lied.

Then the lights came back on and there was the band again. They played ‘Feels like Love’ and then “Eye of the Tiger’. The lights went off and the crowd was going wild.

Then the lights came back up. “Great concert, huh?” ‘Silver Girl smiled. Josh realized it was now truly over.

“The best.” He responded.

Slowly the crowd began making their way out of the theatre. Josh began to think about how to get home and decided he would walk. He was still excited by just holding hands.

As they walked out, she continued to hold Josh’s hand. “So, where do you live?” she asked. “Well, I am out by the college,” Josh responded.

“Did you drive?” she asked. “No, I took the bus, I don’t have a car.” Josh admitted. His honesty surprised him.

“Hey, I can give you a ride.” “Well, that would be nice,” Josh replied. What was he doing? His stomach was turning. He had just met this girl and was going to ride with her? He had never really even talked to a girl before, and now he just spent the night holding a girl’s hand. He was excited, but afraid all in the same manner.

They walked to the parking lot across the street. It was a three level garage. “Wait here and I will get the car.” ‘Silver Girl said. “Ummm OK.”

Josh stood on the curb watching the people flowing out of the theatre. After five minutes he began to wonder if she had changed her mind and had left him. Well, why wouldn’t she? She had probably seen the bulge in his pants and realized he was a dork.

He began to watch the cars leaving the garage, looking to see if she was in one of them speeding by him. Another five minutes passed and Josh was about to walk away when he heard a horn beep.

He looked to his left and there she was waving from the car at the curb. “Hey, sorry, I went out the wrong exit, hop on in.” Josh had one more pang of doubt and walked over and opened the door and slid into the seat.

His hand touched something wet on the seat and he looked down. His hand had some red on it. “What the…?” he began to say. “OH, sorry, I cut myself this afternoon and thought I had cleaned it up. Here, use this tissue to clean your hand.”

Josh wiped his hand on the tissue and was about to say something about the blood still being wet when she leaned over and kissed him square on the lips.

Josh was shocked. He began to pull away, but her hand went behind his head and held them tight. Then he felt her other hand slide over his lap and he jumped.

Pulling back she said “OOOO you are a jumpy one, aren’t you?” I noticed you were hard in the concert. I hope it was me and not the band.” Then she laughed.

She put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. Josh was speechless. His mind was spinning from the kiss and from her hand rubbing his lap.

She reached over and turned on the radio. Josh was surprised to hear the classical station come on. She immediately hit the button, only to have a jazz station come on. Then she turned the dial until she landed on the rock station.

Her right hand then fell into his lap again. “Hey don’t be shy.” She took Josh’s hand and put it on her right breast. Josh did not know what to do and just left his hand there. “Well, rub it a little, it won’t break.” She said. Then her hand went back to his lap.

About half way back to the college, she turned off the main road. “No, I live further down.” Josh said. She replied, “Oh, I thought we would stop in the park here.”

She pulled the car to a stop. The park was deserted. Turning off the engine ‘Silver Girl’ undid her seat belt and moved over and began to kiss Josh again. Her hands began to undo his belt.

Josh was unsure what to do, but then she took his hand off her breast and led it up under her t-shirt. She had his pants open and was rubbing him.

The police cruiser was making its nightly run through the parking lot at around 4:00 AM.

Officer Johnson chuckled. “Well well well, what do we have here.” He laughed as the headlights from his car flashed over the car parked in the far corner. Many times he had come upon teenagers, undressed in cars here. It always made him laugh to catch them in the act, scare them and watch as they drove off, sometimes without even finishing getting dressed.

He stopped his car and radioed into the dispatcher so they knew where he was in case of a problem.

Opening the door of the cruiser, he flicked on his Megalight flashlight and approached the car.

Keeping the light down, he walked to the driver’s side door. Then he held the light up and flashed it into the car.

He jumped back and pulled his service revolver out.

Within the hour the park was ablaze of flashing lights from other cruisers and an ambulance.

Officer Johnson was standing to the side talking to his Sergeant. “When my light hit the window, all I could see was red. The car was unlocked and when I opened the door I saw the body. Well, the pieces. I have never seen anything like that. Blood everywhere, skin torn off the body…”

At that moment, he turned and ran to a dark corner and for the second time in an hour, lost his dinner…

HAVE A GRAND WEEKEND ALL!

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Friday and the Way Back Machine...

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Friday, March 12, 2010 12 Of Your Sparks

So, I have cleaned up my Favorites and removed a few that no longer post. I guess I kept hoping they would come back but they seem to have been sucked into a Facebook and hey will never come back.

There are a few who are still there yet I have not seen them in like forever...but I have hope...I am putting their pictures up on telephone poles and on milk bottles all over the nation...'Have you seen this blogger?'

SO yesterday, lunch time I go to start to read your blogs...BUT...the wonderful folks at IT for the company I service have decided anything with.blogspot on the end is the child of the devil...

I am trying to put together my Google reader, but folks, if you truncate your posts, I can not read them It is probably the default setting and y'all probably don't even realize it...so, do me a flavor..OK, go to your settings - click on SITE FEED and make sure the BLOG POSTS FEED is set to full. Then I can read and later on in the day, I can come back and comment...

OK, we have a deal? I will give you ice cream and candy if you make it happen...

I decided to fire-up the Way-Back Machine today to one of my favorite short stories...if it is a repeat, hope you enjoy again. If it is new for you, then I hope you enjoy it for the first time.

From June 14, 2006...

CONCESSION SPECIAL:
Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich
with Peppers, Onions and Mushrooms
Plus a Large Drink
$2.25

OK Kiddies, it has happened...Yesterday began four different scenarios and none of them took flight. So, as not to bang our head on the table any longer, we went back into the archives to June 14, 2006. This was out first work of fiction here on THE COUCH.

The fog rolled across the highway obscuring the lines down the center and along the edge. White fingers grasped the steering wheel willing it to stay centered in the lane and not to wander.
Eyes stared straight ahead trying to make out the next 10 feet of roadway and hoping to not see anything unknown.

Why had you decided to leave this late? What compelled you to think you could make the drive after hearing the weather? Well who listens to the weatherman anyway these days? The only job where you can be wrong more then a weatherman and not be fired is in direct response where a 5% success rate is considered excellent.

Was it that important to get to the destination tonight and not tomorrow? Did it really matter to anyone else? Probably not, but you am compelled to reach the goal and not be swayed by things over which you have no control...like the weather.

That is when the shadow crossed over the road. Your foot lifts off the accelerator and hits the brake...maybe a little too hard, and the back-end of the car begins a slow fishtail to the left. Remember the lessons...turn the wheel into the turn...do not hit the brake again...do not jerk or over-react.

But the car is not responding... the backend fishtails further to the left over the centerline. The car is almost perpendicular to where it should be and the chalk white fingers are turning harder now...turning the wheel...urging the car to realign itself to the road.

Slowly, control of the car is regained...the pounding of your heart in your ears is drowning out the music which had been playing on the radio. Your chest feels as if it is about to explode and you ease the car to the shoulder, pulling off a bit more then normal to ensure the next car down this road does not plow into you.

As the car rolls to a stop, you put it into park and only then realize there are beads of sweat rolling down from your hairline along your forehead and dripping onto your face and into your eyes. You wipe your face with the back of your right sleeve and will your heart to return to a normal rhythm...

What was that back there? A deer? It was too big for a deer? A bear? No, it moved too fast. A large black shadow...nothingness. Now you are thinking crazy...it must have been an animal...that is all.

Reaching down to the center console, you grab the 1/2 bottle of water left and lift it to your parched lips. Drinking steadily, you do not stop until you see the void bottom of the bottle in your vision.

Putting the car back into drive, you pull back onto the road and immediately realize the fog is now denser then before. Your hands grip the wheel even tighter...you know you should just pull over and let the fog lift, but you are being driven by unseen forces.

The road begins a gentle curve to the right as it also begins the decent from its highest point on the mountain. You think you can see the lights of the town below, but know it is only your imagination at play...the fog is too thick.

AGAIN...a black shape passes in front of the car only this time, you can not stop...the blackness envelops the car...you wait for impact but it never comes. Just blackness.

Both feet are now stomped down on the brake pedal, but the car is not even slowing down...in fact it is picking up speed. You hear a loud screeching noise and then realize it is you, screaming a bloody, bone-chilling scream.

All at once, the blackness is gone and there is nothing.

You, sitting in your car...in your driveway...as you had been 3 hours before. The clock on the dash reads midnight, the exact hour you left home to make your journey. The water bottle by your side is full and the seal has not been broken.

You reach and open the door and walk back to your home. As you open the door, you tell yourself, tomorrow is just as good a time as any to make the trip.

THE COUCH NOTE (From Original June 14, 2006 Post): When I sat down today, I was not sure what the subject was going to be and then the fingers began typing. I truly had no idea where the thoughts would lead or how I would complete them. So, let's just say....today's blog wrote itself...Hope you enjoyed it.

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Ruby Tuesday and The Wayback Machine...

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Tuesday, July 14, 2009 13 Of Your Sparks

All you need to do is click on the graphic to get to the rest of the RUBY TUESDAY posts...

Welcome to another Tuesday of RED RED RED all over the bloggosphere...and as long as Mary does not mind me continuing to use the old banner for her wonderful meme, we are golden..well...maybe not golden..maybe we are FIRE ENGINE!

LOL

Anyway...I have no clue what this plant is. I am sure I could just ask Nancy, as it resides on her deck, but that would be too darn easy...

So, I present it to you..without a name...just some brilliant color that extends into the red family...

It does count, doesn't it Mary????? (fingers crossed)

HEY!, Normally I would put up the ad for the Radio Happy Hour on this post, but today I am just going to tell you all that, if you only listen once in a while...tonight is the night to turn in. Or at least grab it from iTunes, or listen from the archives on my sidebar (as of tomorrow morning).

Why the big deal? Well, tonight we have three special guests. First up, Dangerous Lee’s daughter, Senia.

Dr. B and I will probe the soon to be second grader on all all sorts of issues of national importance.

Then, Dangerous Lee and Dr. B will put Nancy, the future "Mrs. Vinny Bond", in the hot seat. Plus, they’ll make us play the Nearlywed Game.

Finally, but certainly not least, Dangerous Lee and I will interview the Virgin Mary to Dr. Blogstein’s “Radio Jesus”, the woman from whose womb the greatest internet radio host emerges, Blogstein’s Mom.

As we have said to each other, this will be great radio or a total, unequivical train-wreck, so either way, you do not want to miss it!

I was thinking about one of the stories I shared when I was doing Monday Matinee On The Couch. I guess it is because of a day in September that is approaching. hehehehehe and the fact that a few of the people that I based the descriptions on are going to be in Memphis. Of course let me state emphatically, that this story is total fiction. 1,000,000,000,000,000% fiction...yup, I said it.

So without further ado, I thought I would share again for those who have read it, and give some of you who were not around a taste of FICTION from my past writing days...

Please fasten your seat belts, keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times and no spitting from the top of the ride. - I know it is not Friday, but the Wayback Machine is ready to roll...

The party was in Pennsylvania...a small town in the middle of nowhere. The summer had been going great. Working as a life guard at the local pool, the tan was a solid bronze and he had met a few nice ladies (girls) who admired him more for the fact that he was a lifeguard then his looks.

At 19, who cared why they liked him, all he cared about was he had dates most night of the week.

So, back to the party...he was meeting his friends in Westchester at Jamie's house. They were all planning on driving together and planned to have some fun before even getting to the party. There was Gary, who had come down from upstate NY and they were going in his car...Jamie and his girlfriend Nikki, Paul and Val and CJ, the lifeguard. 6 of them in that big old Buick. It would be tight, but hey...summer...fun...booze and some weed and what more can you want in life.

As they left Jamie's house, they stopped at the local deli and picked up 3 cases of beer...didn't want to run out or anything, did they?

Now, the question was, who was going to drive out of the city? Gary had already been smoking a few on his own, so he didn't want to be the chauffeur. Paul took the wheel...they must have been young and stupid for sure! SO, they had Paul driving, Gary in the center and CJ was in the shotgun seat. In the back, Jamie, Nikki and Val behind the driver.

Joints lit, beers open, they are off on their adventure. They drove down the NY Thruway and took the ramp to the George Washington Bridge. As they are getting to the other side (THE JERSEY SIDE), CJ looks up and sees Paul is in the wrong lane and has taken the wrong off-ramp. "Paul, we were supposed to be over there" CJ shouts and everyone groans.
"No problem", is Paul's reply and he cuts the wheel to the right and heads for one of those openings in the guard rail. You know, the opening that is just barely wide enough to let a car go straight through and Paul was going to try and cut the angle.

Horns blare as Paul cuts across two lanes of traffic and then, miraculously, through the guard rail. As they get through, CJ looks to his right and sees the Winnebago barreling down on them and begins to see his 19 years flash in front of his eyes. He can barely hear Nikki's scream above Paul's insane laugh as Paul cuts across two more lanes of traffic and hits the exit ramp at over 60 miles per hour...tire squealing.

Paul continues laughing, but everyone is now shouting about what an insane lunatic he is and that there was no way he was going to continue driving. They made Paul pull over and Jamie got behind the wheel and Paul slid in the back on the drivers side, putting Val on the hump (which he complained about until someone shoved another beer and a joint into his mouth) with Gary moving into the back next to the passenger window and Nikki taking the middle seat between CJ and Jamie.

Jamie hadn't been drinking, so they felt a bit more comfortable with him behind the wheel. Everyone continued to slam down beers and a joint was in constant circulation over the next few hours. It had gotten dark and they were almost to the NJ/Pennsylvania border. They were going to cross at the Phillipsburg/Easton crossing. One of their fraternity brothers lived in Phillipsburg, but there was not room for Corky, so they kept driving.

It is now near midnight as they cross into Easton, PA and from the back seat comes a groan, alerting them all to an unpleasant possibility.

The blast of air in the car alerted them to the fact that Paul had rolled down the window (yes, a crank not an electric window), and Paul's head was outside and the sounds of him depositing his share of the beer onto the highway could be heard.

Almost immediately, another sound was heard...the sound of the police cruiser that had pulled out from behind the gas station they had just passed! "Everyone hide the joints!" Gary shouted.

Jamie pulled into a parking lot and the cruiser follwed them in. The officer, a local Easton cop, not a Pennsylvania trooper, climbed out of his car and made his way to the drivers window.

Jamie rolled down his window, "Evening officer, was I speeding?"

"No, son, but your friend was decorating the side of your car and the road with his vomit...is he ok?"

"Yes, sir, we are sorry, we are on our way to a party in Hamburg and, well, Paul had a few drinks before we left and got car sick."

"I see, well show me your license and everyone else, how about some ID" was the office's response. Jamie pulled out his license and the rest grabbed theirs and handed them over. In the back seat Paul opens the door and barfs again.

"This your car son?" asked the officer. From the back, Gary replies, "No sir, it is mine."

"Can I see the registration."

Gary says to CJ in the front, "Hey it is in the glove compartment."

So CJ opens the glove box and starts rumbling through it. "Can't find it Gary."

Gary opens the back door and as he does the cop comes around to the passenger side. As Gary opens the front passenger door about 8 beer cans come tumbling on to the pavement. You see the beer cans were so high on the floor, CJ's feet were on the cans and not the floor by that point.

The officers light shines down and a small shake of his head can be seen. "Been doing some drinking?" he looks up and says.

"Well sir, we are all from the same college, the same fraternity in fact, except for Nikki, and we are on our way to a big summer bash, and well...I guess we started a bit too early" answers CJ.

"Same college, huh?" says the officer.

"Yes sir" and they all grabbed their college IDs and hand them to him.

In the meantime, Gary is rummaging through the glove compartment as he leans into the car. "Where is that registration?" he mumbles and reaches, once more for his wallet. As he opens it, a joint tumbles out.

Gary, thinking quickly, proceeds to dump the entire contents of his wallet on top of the joint, grabbing the regsitration, which had been in the wallet the whole time, and hands that to the officer.

Gary and CJ, proceed to bend over and pick up the beer cans, the papers and silently, the joint and throw it all into the car and the glove compartment.

The officer looks at all the licenses and IDs and the registration and straightens himself up to his full 6'4" height and flashes his light into the car once more.

From the front, CJ smiles and says "Officer, Jamie has not been drinking the whole time, which is why he is driving sir."

The officer says "Is that right?"

From the car comes a chorus of "YES SIR!"

Except for Paul who is barfing on the side of the road once again.

As he hands all the paperwork and IDs to Gary, the officer looks into the car again and says...

"I suggest you use that dumpster over there to get rid of all of these empties and also not make any more empties before you reach your destination...you never know if you might get stopped by a cop."

He touches his hat with his fingers and walks back to his car and drives off.

They all sit there in silence...until the first giggle starts and then the entire group is in an uproar laughing. They did empty the car, they didn't drink another beer until they reached Hamburg and the rest of the weekend was a blast...but NOTHING they did that weekend compared to that 10 minutes on the side of the road in Easton, PA.

Full Story

Twistello...

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Thursday, March 20, 2008 19 Of Your Sparks

Like it's name "Ask And Ye Shall Receive" ...we asked and boy did we receive!

Some of their points are taken - the overall look is tired now, we are going to get on that - some, well to each their own.

Moving on

Remember you can get your sidebar button by just grabbing the code over on the messy sidebar to your right...hehehehehehe. Sorry could not help it.

And also remember, if you send us a picture while sitting on a couch (or a chair will do, but the couch will work better) we will put you over on the right hand side of The Couch on the button and send it back...

We were going through files as we moved thing s over to the new iMac and found a collection of stories we have begun, but not finished...These are all pretty old, as they used the word that was part of the meme played on Monday.

Can not remember why they were not finished or used - but we are sure that our friends who are writers have drawers of unfinished ditties...

Thought we would share this one with you today...a Monday Matinee Tease if you will.

Detective Steve Cooper thought his eyes were doing tricks on him. Sure he had seen the character Regan do it in “The Exorcist”, but to see a body live; the chest against the floor and the shoulder blades facing upward…with the head turned 180 degrees, the dead eyes staring up at him, pleading for justice, was almost too much for the 30 year veteran of the Homicide Squad to take.

He turned away from the sight to see through the window, the C.S.I. team climbing from their van. “Let them figure our how someone could snap a neck and turn it around so perfectly.”

“What was that Steve?” This was from Cooper’s partner for the last five weeks, Edward Young. Everyone called him ‘Eddie’, everyone except Cooper, who insisted upon calling him by his given name, Edward. Cooper wondered if his comment about the C.S.I. was not just in his head and he had said the words out loud. “Nothin’ Edward, whatCHAgot?”

Eddie Young was kneeling by the body, using his latex clad hands to check for some identification on the corpse. So, far he had found nothing in the back pockets on the pants or the side pockets of the jacket the victim wore. He needed to wait for the C.S.I. to clear the body and document its position before he would be able to check the front pants and shirt pocket. “No I.D. so far Coop, and would you PLEASE call me anything but Edward, I told you only my mom calls me that, and if she does, she is pissed.”

“OK ‘chump’ here comes the ‘trace twits’, so we better give them some room to do their job.” “Chump is not what I had in mind you clown…”

As Coop and Eddie walked out of the apartment they gave their first impressions of the crime scene to the C.S.I. techs and then began speaking with the neighbors. What they collected was a lot of information about nothing. The apartment was supposed to be empty; no one heard a sound the night before, even the neighbors whose bedroom wall backed to the living room where the body was found.

“How the hell could they not hear anything?” Eddie mumbled as they left the apartment next door. “Freakin’ walls are so thin you could hear a mouse fart through them, but some guy gets his head turned like a screw-cap and they don’ hear a sound…” “Well Edward, it is the nature of people to not want to be involved when something disturbing happens so close to them.” Coop replied.

Eddie Young looked at his partner and thought he saw a little grin disappearing from his lips. Just as he suspected, Coop was calling him Edward more so to bug him than because he wanted to use the formal name…’just busting my balls’, Young thought.

It had been four days and the body found in room 718 of the BOOTS MOTEL had still not been identified. A search of the FBI fingerprint files had turned up nothing. A full sweep of the local neighborhood shops and bars had not turned up one person who could recognize the face. The Medical Examiner had ruled the death a homicide with the cause being a broken spine. This did not surprise either of the detectives. The victim had certainly not taken his own life by twisting his head around. What did surprise them was that there was not a single mark on the body. No defensive wounds, no markings from restraints, nothing.

Eddie Young and Steve Cooper had just finished another day of knocking on doors and asking questions and were sliding onto bar stools at McCrackie’s Lounge, a hangout for their precinct. Sean McCrackie, son of the founder, moved down the bar towards them and grabbed two Foster Lagers, knowing the drinks of his best customers. Sitting the two beers in front of the detectives, he grabbed a bottle of Pinch from the top shelf and poured Coop his double shot and placed the glass on the bar.

“Tough day gents?” Sean asked. “If you call a body with its head twisted like a cork and four days of no clues tough, then yeah…it has been one tough bitch day.” Coop responded as he shot the Pinch down his throat, put the tumbler back on the bar and indicated to Sean to reload the glass. “I saw the story of a body being found around the corner in the paper but they said nothin’ ‘bout no twisted head.”

“Trying to keep that quiet Sean”, Eddie spoke up, “It is just too weird to be out there. This guys head was twisted 180 degrees…I learned how to snap a guy’s neck in the Marines, but damn…I never knew you could twist it so completely without ripping it off the shoulders.” “Well yeah, unless the person doing the twisting was super-human.” Sean mumbled as he walked down the bar to serve a new customer.

Eddie and Coop looked at each other almost simultaneously shook their heads. “Super-human, yeah we got us an evil Superman out there…sheesh.” Eddie said as he finished off his beer. As he placed his bottle back on the counter his pager began to beep. A second later, Coop’s pager also beeped. They both looked down and recognized the number as their shift commander’s.

Coop grabbed his cell phone and dialed. “Yeah Capt’n, he is right next to me. Only one apiece so far…yeah I had some Pinch, but only, um one…OK, OK, two…the same? They sure? OK, well give me the address.”

Twenty minutes and three mints apiece later, they pulled up in front of the CAFFREY MOTEL & LODGE and saw the squad cars and the CSI van already there. As they walked toward the room where all the activity was taking place they were met by their Captain, Andy Dixon.

Dixon was rumored to be in line for the Chief of Police position when the current chief decided it was time to put down his gun and pick up his fishing rod. “Well Capt’n, what do we have here?” Eddie asked.

“Like I told your partner, it should all look familiar to you two.” As the three men walked into the room, the flurry of activity was moving all around them. It looked totally unorganized but they all knew that, like the activity of a bee hive which looked totally frenzied, everything that was going on in the room was well choreographed.

Lying on the floor in the middle of the room was another body. Once again, the head was twisted perfectly 180 degrees, eyes opened, the dead stare straight at the ceiling. Like with the first body, there did not seem to be a mark anywhere on the back, legs or arms. This was easy to ascertain as unlike the first body found, this one was totally naked. “Damn, now he is stripping them naked?” Coop sighed. One of the CSI techs looked up “Think he was naked in bed when the attacker struck” he said tilting his head to the bed, which looked like a struggle had taken place on it.

“No semen on the sheets, so it was not sexual. We found some hairs and some DNA, it is already on the way to the lab, but the hairs appear to belong to our victim.” The two detectives did their through search of the victims clothing and the suitcase which appeared to not have been unpacked. Again, not one shred of identification could be found.

As they had done with the first case, they checked with the front desk and got a look at the register, to find once again an illegible signature and an out of town address, which when looked into, did not exist.

Back in the squad room later that same night, Eddie Young looked over at Cooper and caught him beginning to nod off. “Hey Coop, why don’t cha head home and catch some sleep and I will finish the paperwork”, the younger detective said. “And miss out on all this fun, no way.” Cooper replied. “What do you think of this Edward? Two guys, in their late 30’s, early 40’s, heads twisted like the cap of a quart bottle of beer, no markings on their bodies at all, no injuries other than their necks being snapped like twigs, both registered with phony addresses, no DNA other than theirs, nothing…like this killer is not even human.”

“Coop, you listening to what you are saying? Not human? C’mon, who are you Sean McCrackie? You believe in ghosts and goblins and superman?” “Well, what the hell…no one is that good that they can surprise two guys, both of whom are almost 200 pounds and 6 feet tall, and snap their necks, twisting it all the way around and not leave ANY evidence…not even a freakin’ broken fingernail.”

It was three weeks and four bodies later and Cooper and Young were no closer to ending the killing. After the third killing, someone had clued in the local newspaper and the details began to leak. The newspapers had latched on to the name “Twistello” and to the chagrin of Detective Steve Cooper, the name stuck.

It was late '73, early '74 and Rick Wakeman was touring America behind his first solo album The Six Wives Of Henry VIII. We were program manager of WITR Radio on the campus of R.I.T. and I received a call asking if we wanted to interview Mr. Wakeman.

Of course we accepted and later that day, he came into the studio...alone! A car had brought him to campus, but no entourage, not even a P.R. flack.

We talked for about an hour and a half and my most vivid memories of that day were his stories of his wife and his kid and how he missed them and could we please get him a beer and let it warm up before he drank it (he hated the fact that Americans drank their beer cold!).

We still have the reel-to-reel of the interview. That evening we went to the show as his guests and afterward had some warm beers at the hotel.

We have the album we spoke of and will have to get it digitized. In concert the music was just mind-blowing...the orchestration was so massive, yet subtle.

This is from a 1979 concert YES performed in Quebec City, Canada in 1979...

ENJOY....

Full Story

Monday Matinee - "THE DREAM"

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Monday, November 19, 2007 21 Of Your Sparks

So how many bowls of rice have you donated? Many have become addicted!

HUH? HUH? What? You have not tried it yet?

WHUTTSAMADDAWIDYA?
<-----------GO 'DERE NOW!

The Manic Monday word this week is:
RELISH
Head on over to MO'S and see the other submissions!

We have threatened it recently, and now you get it...WE'RE BACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK!!

As a special treat, your first $5.00 purchase at the concession stand is FREE.

Bart Nance did not RELISH the thought of opening his eyes and looking over at the clock on the nightstand.

The dream had awoken him in a panic. His eyes opened anyway and they watched as the digital time changed to 12:29. What he did not know is if that were AM or PM. The room was in total darkness.

Totally confused by the dream which had woken him, he felt as if he were in a cocoon lying there in his bed. The covers were pulled up over his chin and he lay on his back and closed his eyes.

The dream was so real. He began to see snippets of it, playing on the inside of his eyelids.

He could see himself entering the law firm where he was a Senior Partner. As it was Friday, he was in a pair of jeans, a button down dress shirt in a pastel shade of pink and his black cowboy boots.

Bart saw the meeting he had with his largest client...replayed the entire 4 hour meeting in the span of 2 minutes…his eyes opened and the clock stared back, the green numbers almost burning into his eyes…12:31….

Closing his eyes again, he concentrated on the dream, trying to determine why this dream had affected him so.

Bart saw himself, once again sitting at his local watering hole. He was talking to Frank, the bartender, and eating his normal Friday dinner, Fried Clams and crispy spiced fries. The band was setting up their equipment. Why did the memory of the band cause Bart to shiver as he lay there beneath the sheets and comforter?

The bar began to fill with men and women, some couples but mainly singles, looking for that someone to make their Friday night more rewarding.

Ordering another drink Bart began to scout the club. Single again after a failed marriage, he had tried the blind dates his friends had set up for him, but they never seemed to work. Frank came over and tilted his head as he spoke, “Bart, new talent over in the far corner, never seen her in here before and she looks like she could be cut from her little group.”

Bart’s eyes scanned over to where Frank was looking and noticed her immediately. She was blond, about 5’7” tall. Her hair down around her shoulders, she was wearing a brick red blouse with that one extra button opened so that a bit more skin on her neck was showing. Her jeans hugged her hips and when she turned, Bart could see a tight ass and her long legs.

The band began to tune up and finish their preparation for the evenings set as Bart rose from his barstool and made his way back to the men’s room. His trip was as much an excuse to get a better look at this lady then anything else, as his journey brought him within 3 feet of her. As he walked by she turned and Bart smiled at her and she smiled back.

Bart’s eyes opened again, breaking away from his replaying of the dream, and the clock almost mocked him as the numbers blazed 12:40. The drapes pulled tight, he was still not sure if the sky outside was pitch black or if the sun were shining brightly, but at this point, he felt a need not to know that fact.

Slowly, his eyes closed again and he saw himself back on the bar stool sipping his drink. The band had begun and slowly the crowd was being drawn to the dance floor. He could, once again, see the woman standing with her friends as they watched the interactions of the crowd around them.

Then Bart watched as he stood up and walked directly over to her. She saw him coming and turned and whispered something to her friend. They both looked over toward him and they were both smiling. When Bart approached he also smiled and said “Hi, I was sitting over at the bar and I could not help but notice you. I was wondering if you would like to dance.”

She accepted and Bart led her to the much too small dance floor. They began to move to the music, their feet moving slowly as the song being played had attracted more of the patrons to get up. As the floor got more crowded they were forced closer and closer together and, even though the song was not so, they ended up body to body as if it were a slow number. It was almost impossible to talk Bart leaned in and semi-shouted “Name is Bart, you are very pretty.”

“Hi, I am Angela, thank you very much.” As the song came to an end, the band began to play a slow dance number and Bart immediately recognized it as the old Beatles’ song “Something”. He put his hand out and Angela put hers in his and their bodies became even tighter. They danced slowly, her head on his chest and Bart could smell her scent and he now remembered how it had intoxicated him.

They had danced almost every song for the rest of the evening. When the band took a break, they moved toward his seat at the bar and he stood as she sat and they talked, her hand resting on his chest, smiling up at him.

Bart’s eyes opened again and he realized he was now breathing a little too hard. His body was soaked in sweat and he could not understand why. Had she come back with him that evening? Had he done something to make her angry and she walked out of the bar on him? He could feel a problem…a horror, but he could not remember as he laid there.

He heard a thought in his head and it made his shiver, even with all the covers and comforter pulled up tight. 1:01 the green LED numbers screamed out at him, almost accusingly. Now why would he feel that? He thought of getting out of bed, but instantly knew that if he did, all memories of the dream would fade and he would never know what it was about.

Bart’s eyes closed again and he saw he and Angela in a collage of dancing and talking and then kissing. His body reacted to the visions of the kiss and he remembered how good it had felt.

Then they were in his car, driving…and then in a wooded area, kissing again.

Once more he was driving and he saw them pull into his garage. So she had come here. But where was she now he wondered as he lay there. She had come with him, in his car…so she had to still be there. Those thoughts made him feel even more apprehensive.

Bart saw them entering his home…kissing…dancing to the soft music coming from his stereo…and then he saw them walking toward the bedroom. This bedroom.

Bart’s eyes opened again and he looked around the room without moving. Everything looked normal, yet everything looked askew.

Tilting his head he looked at the clock again…and gasped. The LED numbers read 12:29 again. How could that be? Then his heart nearly stopped. The numbers on the clock were not their normal bright green…no the numbers on the clock were now blood red…

Bart Nance leaped from his bed and was again shocked into another reality. Standing there in the middle of his bedroom, he was fully clothed. Turning on the floor lamp, he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself and shivered.

How could that be? Did all of this really happen, or was it just a concoction of his subconscious?

Why were there dark stains on his clothes? Bart Nance stripped his clothes off. A shower will help to revive him and maybe put everything into perspective. He walked into the bathroom and put his hand into the shower and turned on the water.

As the water began to run he turned and looked into the mirror and saw the black rings under his eyes…they had never been there before…why were they there now?

Then Bart pulled the shower curtain back and his eyes opened wide…his jaw dropped open and he began to move backward…the bathroom run snagged under his feet and he stumbled.

Putting his hands out he was not able to catch his fall.

Three days later, the two police officers forced their way into Bart Nance’s home after a call reported that he had not shown up to work or answered any of his phones.

Guns drawn, they made their way through the house.

When they came to the bathroom, they both stopped and re-holstered their weapons.

Looking into the bedroom they saw the man they were looking for, naked on the bathroom floor, a pool of blood around his head. They could see the blood and brain matter on the corner of the vanity where he had obviously banged his head.

The air was foul and the body in the early stages of decay. Flies buzzed around the room.

But that was the simple part of their vision.

The complicated part and the scene that made Officer Paul Getty turn and lose his just eaten lunch of an Italian Hoagie on the carpet in the hallway was the mass of body parts that they could see under the still running water in the shower…

And on the way home this evening in the car, we heard this song that we had not heard in many moons...thought we would share it with you.

This is EDGAR WINTER'S WHITE TRASH, from the "Edgar Winter's White Trash" Album.

The song is "Save The Planet"

Released: April 1971
Chart Peak: #111
Weeks Charted: 19

Ray Barretto (Conductor),
Rick Derringer (Guitar, Vocals),
Johnny Winter (Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals),
Jerry Lacroix (Harmonica, Harp, Saxophone, Tenor Sax, Vocals),
Tasha Thomas (Vocals),
Janice Bell (Vocals),
Alfred Brown (Strings),
Edgar Winter (Organ, Piano, Celeste, Keyboards, Sax, Vocals, Main Performer),
Arnold Eidus (Strings),
Eileen Gilbert (Conductor),
Emanuel Green (Strings),
Carl Hull (Vocals, Vocals (Background),
Mike McClellan (Trumpet, Vocals),
Gene Orloff (Strings),
Max Pollikoff (Strings),
Floyd Radford (Guitar),
Bobby Ramirez (Drums),
George Ricci (Strings),
Albertine Robinson (Vocals),
Russell Savkas (Strings),
George Sheck (Bass),
Jon Smith (Saxophone, Vocals),
Patti Smith (Poetry),
Maretha Stewart (Vocals),

Monday matinee

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Monday Musings & An Orange

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Monday, October 01, 2007 26 Of Your Sparks

Remember over at MO's
Manic Monday

hehehehe - sorry can not help myself

Knock Knock
Who's there
Banana
Banana who?

Knock Knock
Who's there
Banana
Banana who?

Knock Knock
Who's there
ORANGE
ORANGE who?
ORANGE you glad we didn't say banana?

Well voting is done and it looks like....by a small margin....THE DOORS will be our next Tuneage Tutelage...Was actually surprised by the voting and the tight race...

The Doors 31.3%
The Cars 25%
Yes 25%
Rascals 18.8%
Grateful Dead 12.8%
Deep Purple 12.8%
Mott The Hoople 12.8%

Will be working it up (yes, we have started...) and should have it by Wednesday ready for your reading pleasure.

Notice the banner for the next BLOGBLAST FOR PEACE at the top of The Couch daily posts...grab your banner and let's make this one the best yet...

This is the brainchild of our dear friend Mimi over at Mimi Writes. If you have never gone over to Bloggingham Palace and read the Queen of Meme's, then you are missing out on one the the best reads in the bloggosphere!

Well, we finally did Graceland this weekend. Our partner J.P. ended up staying in town instead of heading back to NJ and his family and we had a real nice dinner on Friday, just the two of use and two bottles of delicious wine...

Saturday we were up early...though moving a bit slow, and off to Graceland. Enjoyed the tour. It really is interesting to be in the rooms that Elvis hung out in and entertained in. The amount of gold records and awards on display is just mind-boggling.

Didn't have our camera with us as we were not sure it was going to happen. Sort of spur of the moment. We are sure with visitors to Memphis, we will end up going back again and will make sure we document it this time.

We did have our picture taken before the tour began (actually everyone gets their picture taken, then you can purchase it when you finish the tour - you know how that goes) and we decided to get them...So, J.P. and yours truly...next time we hope we have a beautiful woman next to me...no offense dude!

Next week is the Memphis Zoo. Meeting a new friend there and going to go dance for the monkeys. Just hope they like my dancing and don't fling stuff at me...because if they do, we will fling it back and that could get messy!!!!

Will ensure the camera is with us and will have pictures to share.

We are also feeling some stories building in us again. We have been struggling with "The Quest" for about 6 weeks, but this week actually got 5 pages written that we are very happy with. The story is developing and we are seeing now, how Frank Stevens became the man you all read about in our short story of the same title.

That said, we are itching to get back to Monday Matinee's and can almost guarantee the Drive-In will be open again next Monday. It might not be every week, but it will be creeping back into our time here on The Couch.

New to The Couch? Confused by what we just talked about? Scroll down on the right sidebar and find the Drive-in Marquee. Under that are the works of fiction we have published here on The Couch. Some are multi-part, some are one post. Some we think are pretty darn good...some...well, not so good, but we have them all there.

Also want to point out that we have updated the BlogTalk Radio area on the left sidebar. Each of the pictures will take you right to our friends home pages over there and there is also a player which will let you hear the most recent show.

We talked recently about redoing The Couch but real life has interfered with that and we are moving slower than we had hoped.

Watching that show Extreme Home Makeover show and man...we want to go to Hawaii soon and see the lava fields...so very cool...nature is incredible. We love Niagara Falls and have been there many times, but to go see an active lava flow....that woulod be SWEEEEEEEEET.

Our friend Starrlight went AGAIN this past year and had promised to put me in her luggage, but she forgot.....pout....

We selected the correct team in the Survivor Pool again this week, had Dallas...so we are moving on....45 teams were eliminated this week already...many in the pool picked San Diego. Only 62 teams left from a total of 156 original teams...

Mom Joan and Dad Vince clued me into this...
Bruce & The E-Street Band were on the Today Show this week.

Bruce's rap before "Living In The Future" is RIGHT ON!

Video for all songs is available HERE
look for "Promised Land" down on the right...

THEY SOUND HOT HOT HOT
and the sound on here is pretty damn good...
We still get chills watching these guys play...seen them 3 times live.

(you have to watch a commercial between each song, but well worth it!)

This one is going out to our man Matt-Man

"Hang on Sloopy" is a hit song by the pop group The McCoys which was #1 in America in October 1965 and is the official rock song of the U.S. state of Ohio.

It was written by Wes Farrell and Bert Russell and is named for Dorothy Sloop, a singer born in Steubenville, Ohio on September 26, 1913 who used the name "Sloopy" on stage.

She died July 1998 in Pass Christian, Mississippi.

The most eloquent silence; that of two mouths meeting in a kiss.
~ by Unknown ~

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Monday Matinee On The Couch - "Glowing"

Sparks Of Insanity By Vinny "Bond" Marini Monday, May 14, 2007 24 Of Your Sparks

Manic Monday Word Of The Day:
GREEN
See the other submissions
over at MO's

CONCESSION SPECIAL:
Philly Cheese Steak with mushrooms and onions
Large drink
$3.50

“My name is Steven Harrison, and beyond all I’ve seen before, this was the worst.

I stared into those GREEN eyes glowing out from under the hoodie. Standing back in the alley we were almost invisible in the dark.

I turned and got sick on the ground. He only laughed at me. When I turned back around he was gone again, like in the past.

We had met the first day of my senior year of high school. Up until that point, my family had moved 9 times in nine years. Because of that, I had never had any real friends. Kids are tough on the new kid and I was never one to go begging for friendship. This was the last move. Mom had promised. Now that dad was dead, we did not have to keep moving. I can still see his body, lying there on the floor the ax firmly implanted into his skull.

The police had looked for the killer, but they never did solve the case. As soon as mom could, she moved us back to the town she had grown up in. We got into our new apartment the day before school began, so that next morning I walked into John Tyler High. I should have known that a high school named after the first vice president elevated to the office of President, due to the death of William Henry Harrison, would be, as they dubbed Tyler an “accident.”

That day began badly. Two of the bullies immediately jumped on me and pounded me good. Though dad was not a very nice person, he had never taught me the art of fighting. After lunch, I was sitting in the library, my head in my hands when I heard his voice.

“So, you gonna let them pound you and not do nothin’?”

I looked up and standing a few feet in front of me was this string bean of a boy. He had to be 6’2” and weighed no more than 130 pounds. He wore a pair of jeans that were dirty, like they had not been washed in years. Then there was the hoodie. He was wearing a dirty gray hoodie that hung from his skinny shoulders. Long stringy hair oozed out from underneath the hood down to the middle of his chest. The hair was greasy and clumped together, obviously also needing a washing.

But the thing that hit me immediately was his eyes. I could hardly see his face, as it was hidden in a shadow underneath his hoodie. But the eyes, well the eyes were bright green and they almost glowed. They made a shiver run up and down my spine, those eyes did. I should have stood and walked out of the library, but I didn’t. And in that one moment my life changed.

His head was down, and he continued, “If you let them get away with it, they will pound you every day. You need to stop them now.”

“But I am not a good fighter. My dad never taught me how to,” I replied.

“Look, it is not about the ability to fight, it is about the element of surprise. I know these guys. I can show you where to get them when they aren’t ready.” Meet me in the locker room after school.”

I closed my eyes to think about what to say and when I opened them again, he was gone. But I could still smell him. It wasn’t a dirty smell, but more like that smell your attic has on a warm summer day.

After school, I went out to the locker room to tell him that I wasn’t going to fight. He was waiting outside the locker room. “OK, let’s take care of those two.” He whispered. “They are inside by themselves.”

“Wait,” I said “what the hell is your name”

He lifted his head slightly, those green eyes glowing from under the hoodie, “You can call me “Skeletor” that is what all the kids call me.

When we walked into the locker room there were the two bullies. Their backs were to us and there was no one else around, just like he had said. Behind me I heard his voice, low, barely a whisper, “There they are. Are you going to let them pound you again? The next time they will not stop until you are in the hospital. Believe me they did it to a new kid last year.”

Slowly, quietly, we walked deeper into the locker room. As we got closer, I could hear them talking. Talking about the new piss-ant they had pounded and how they would be waiting for him (me) the next morning for some more “fun.”

The one closest to me began to turn when the baseball bat hit him. The barrel caught him square in the side of his head and he was down. Then the bat swung the other way before bully number two even had a chance to turn. The bat caught him in the back of the neck and his knees crumbled, his body falling to the floor like a sack of onions. I turned in surprise. I hadn’t even seen Skeletor pick up the bat.

“OK, now, put the bat in the corner and wipe it off with this rag. We need to get out of here quick. Follow me.” We went out a back door and made our way into the woods behind the school.

When we finally stopped running and sat down near a big tree, I realized I was shaking like never before. “Look man, I never did anything like that before. I am scared of what is going to happen.”

“Don’t worry about those two. They got what was coming to them. Bullies need to learn a lesson and we taught those two good. Now, bury that rag in the ground and cover it with leaves so no one can find it.”

I could not stop shaking and then I began to cry. I am not sure why, I guess it was just from fear of getting caught. I heard Skeletor laughing and was ashamed so I kept my back to him. I don’t know how long it took me to dig the hole with my hands and bury the rag, but when I looked up, it was almost dark and he was gone.

The next day at school everyone was talking about the fact that Greg and Alex (I realized I hadn’t even known their names), had been put in the hospital. The police were all over school and I had to talk to them, of course, since word had gone out that I had been beaten by them that morning.

They talked to me for over an hour asking all sorts of questions. Why had they beaten me up? Did I know who had attacked them? Did I attack them? Where was I when the attack happened?

I guess I convinced them that I had nothing to do with the attack because they let me go and never talked to me again.

I went to school each day looking for Skeletor and never saw him. People were not real friendly to me and when I asked them if they knew who he was, they told me they didn’t know who I was talking about and looked at me weird, so I stopped asking. I began to wonder if he even went to school there. After a month or so, I just decided to move on and forget about him.

Each night I would go home and then have dinner with mom. I had to get a job to help out with the bills, so I began working at the local burger joint, working in the back, cleaning. It didn’t pay great, but it gave us enough to make it by each month. Working the night shift was also great since I got to use her car to get to and from work.

Sometime around Christmas, I was just about finished mopping the floor when these two guys walked in. I told them that we were closed and one of them began to laugh. Then he pulled out a knife and told me to give him the cash. Mr. McGarrity, my boss, started yelling at them and the other guy hit him and kept hitting him. I yelled at them to stop, that I would give them the cash we had. As they were leaving they kicked at Mr. McGarrity again. When they were gone I called the police and they came along with the ambulance.

I tried to describe the two guys but all I could remember was the knife and the boots they wore as they kicked poor Mr. McGarrity. He ended up in the hospital and I ended up losing my job when the new manager came in. he said I did not fit the “style of the place”, whatever that meant..

Then about two weeks after the attack I was downtown, trying to find a new job, when walking out of one of the bars were the two guys who had robbed the restaurant. I looked around for a cop, but of course there were none to be found. When they got into a truck I began to follow them. They ended up at a house outside town. It looked like they lived there together. On the front lawn were two cars on bricks and a boat that didn’t look like it could stay afloat for long at all.

I sat there, looking at the house, getting angrier by the minute. I put the car in gear and drove to the police station. I told the cop at the desk about the attack and that I had found the guys and he sent me to see some detective.

I told my story all over again from the beginning and the detective just nodded his head the whole time. About a week later I went back to the police station and found the detective. He told me they had talked to the two guys and they both had alibis for the night of the robbery. I yelled at him telling him I know it was them, asking him if they had talked to Mr. McGarrity at the hospital. He told me they had but that he could not remember anything. The beating had given him amnesia.

As I walked out of the police station I looked across the street and there was Skeletor sitting on a bench. I walked across the street and sat down next to him. “So, I hear your boss got put in the hospital,” he said to me.

“Wait, where the hell have you been?” I asked. “I been around dude. I have things going on and can’t be holding your hand all the time,” he shot back.

“Man, I am not looking for a babysitter, I was hoping for a friend. Someone to hang with, that’s all, nothing more.”

“Look dude, I ain’t a friend kind of guy. I roll on my own without anyone else. Now, when you need me, I will be around, but I ain’t looking to sit around drinking soda and watching sitcoms on TV.” He turned his head slightly and looked at me. His eyes glowing out from under the hoodie. I tried to see his face but could hardly make out the features.

“Well, I could use your help. Those assholes who beat up and robbed Mr. McGarrity are getting away with it. They have some freakin’ alibis for the night of the robbery and the police ain’t doin’ shit about it.”

“Well, let’s go do something on our own then.”

“Man, Skeletor, these guys are a lot bigger than those two assholes from school.”

A low laugh came from out of the hoodie. My skin began to crawl as the laugh got louder and louder. People were walking down the street looking at me and shaking their head.

“Come on, before someone calls the cops on us,” I said.

We walked to my car and got in. “Let’s go find us two shit-eaters,” he muttered. I drove out to the house, but it was dark and the truck was not there. We drove back downtown to the bar area and cruised the streets. Around midnight, I spotted their truck parked in an alley. We drove past slowly. The truck was empty.

“Why don’t you go check out a few of the bars and see if you can find them.” he growled.

“How am I gonna get into the bars?” I asked.

Once again that laugh began “Bwahahahahahahahahahaha, you ain’t ordering any drinks dude, just walk in and look around. If you see them come back here and we will wait.”

I went into the closest bar. I looked around and didn’t see them. It was the third place I went into that I saw them. They were sitting at the bar doing shots and beer. The music was playing loud and a big guy walked over to me. “You got ID?” he asked.

“Um, no I was just um looking for someone.”

“No ID, you get the hell out,” he snapped and pushed me toward the door.

I walked back to the car and climbed in behind the wheel. “OK, I found them, they are in that bar across the street, what do we do now?”

“Pull the car into that alley by their car and then we wait.”

I pulled my car into the alley, back behind theirs. We were sitting there for about 45 minutes or so. I tried to get him to talk but all he would do is hum. It was a weird noise he was making. ‘Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa, Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa, Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa, Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa’ over and over. It was giving me the creeps and at one point I turned to tell him to stop, but he was staring at me, the green eyes boring a hole into me when I looked into them.

Then I saw them coming. They were both drunk, staggering, laughing. “OK, what do we do now?” I asked.

“We go take them out. Make them pay for your bosses pain and suffering.” He said with a laugh, except it wasn’t a laugh, more like a giggle.

I wanted to make them give me back the money they had stolen, so I could get it back to Mr. McGarrity, maybe I could get my job back. It wasn’t much, but I liked the work, the solitude of it..

As I stepped out of the car, I heard the humming begin again ‘Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa, Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa, Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa, Ahhhhhhhh raaaaaa,……’

“Hey! You two!” I yelled.

They both were about to get into the truck when they turned.

“Hey Joey, ain’t that the little pussy from that burger joint? How’s your boss pussy man? You looking to get some of what he got?”

“Yeah Billy Bob, I think the little pussy boy wants his ass kicked. Hey pussy boy, you put the cops on us? Well, it didn’ work.” The other said laughing.

“Look, you two give me back the money you took and I will walk away. I am not looking for a fight.”

Joey spoke, “Oh you ain’t looking for a fight huh? Well I think you found one anyway.”

They both stepped forward and I looked over at Skeletor. His head was down, but he tilted it to the side and I could see those green eyes glowing. They seemed to be glowing even brighter.

Then something else glinted and I saw the machete in his hand. I was about to ask where it had come from when one of the two hit me hard. I saw stars, but didn’t go down. I lashed out with my fists but caught nothing but air. Then they were both closer and I got hit again.

My arm swung out and at the same time I heard a scream. Then the night air was filled with screams. My arms lashing out, but I had something in my eyes and I couldn’t see real well.

At some point I must have gotten hit again and that is when everything went black.

When I came to, Skeletor helped me up. I looked around and beyond all I have seen, this was the worst.

I stared into those GREEN eyes glowing out from under the hoodie. Standing back in the alley we were almost invisible in the dark.

I turned and got sick on the ground. He only laughed at me. When I turned back around he was gone again, like in the past.

The machete laid on the ground and the two robbers were bleeding, an arm here, another over there, I think one of them was without a head.

That is when the police cars came into the alley. Lights flashing and sirens screaming.

The police had their guns out telling me to put my hands up. Their flashlights were aimed at me and I saw my clothes covered in blood.

But I tell you, it was not me. Skeletor had the machete. I was just fighting with my fists.”

I looked up at the detective sitting on the other side of the table. Tears flowed from my eyes, down my cheeks. I used my sleeve to wipe them away, there was blood on the material.

“You see, I don’t belong here. It wasn’t me.”

That is when he spoke for the first time since he came into the room and had asked me to tell him what had happened.. “Son, you can keep this up all you want. Maybe you should talk to a lawyer now.”

He got up and walked out of the room.

When he was alone, Steven Harrison stood and looked over at the glass window. You know the kind. They are one way glass and look like a mirror on this side of the room.

When he looked into the mirror he began to scream. It was a loud piercing scream.

On the other side of the glass, the detective spoke with his Captain. “What do you think Cap?”

“I think we have a real nutcase here.”

Steven Harrison stood looking into the mirror glass screaming…looking at the reflection…

The dirty gray hoodie and jeans covered in blood, the hair knotted and stringy down to his chest….the green eyes glowing back at him…his reflection staring back at him.

CREDITS:

OTHER ONE
Grateful Dead
Composers: Bill Kreutzmann & Bob Weir

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