Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Chap 1


Life’s crazy nature, and hate and love and funny stupid crazy relationships—never coming to be.

1.A father and son


Jack Jagger was a short, fat, sixty year old, a gray balding head of hair, and a set of blue eyes. He was known as a mean old bastard, as these types generally are known. But in Jack’s big balding brain things were different. If only people could look beyond his rough exterior and in to his soul, which he thought was boundless with deep and profound thoughts. Of what? Jack didn’t know that, but he use to.

He owned a bar, which did not help matters (Fat short balding man that works and owns a bar. He was like an Archie Bunker type characters in many eyes.) “Jack’s” was everything but a nice place to take your son on his wedding day for the reception and that’s why when Jack jr. got married. He (Jack sr.) rented out a large hall. It was up town and in a nice neighborhood.

Jagger sr. stood there in the doorway of the big hall with all the smile he could muster, every last bit of it. No one showed up. His own son said they’d all be there by 9 o’clock pm and it was 12 o’clock by the time sr. called it quits and went home. Jack and his son were not doing what you call ‘TALKING’ much lately. Just a short phone call here and there to make sure the other was not dead.

On the way home he passed by an old bum on his left hand side that he noticed. Grey old beard, a yellow smile. Wearing an old professor’s jacket, Suede patches, and all. Looking up in to the sky. Jagger kept looking at the old vagabond bastard until the bum said:
-Jack?—Jack was surprised a bit because he did not know any bums. Or at least he thought he did not.
-How do you know me?
-The bar.—Of course the bar. All kinds of old fucks went in to Jagger’s bar. “Cheapest beer in town” read the sign out front. Which was a lie but brought in customers. Jack dug in to his pockets and pulled out a bill and handed it to the man, but to his surprise the man refused:
-No no jack, jack no.—The man said. Yellow flecks of something popped out of his mouth-where you headed?—The bum asked.
-Is the bar open?
-Why are you not there?
-Who’s?—Jack thought. Do I want to get friendly with this old bum? Business would certainly be as good as it was, if not better, if his bar did not have bums all around pasted out in the corner yelling and pissing themselves. If the bums were not around maybe he could have had his sons wedding reception at his bar. A large pain hit Jacks heart. A large awesome pain that turned to rage and he tackled the old bum to the ground and started beating him, and beating him. The old bum-head bouncing off the ground. Jack just kept going and going beating and even pulling out some elbow drops from the wrestling he watched on TV. After his raging spasm was over jack was worried. Oh shit this old bum could be dead, he thought. This is what worried him, naturally.



Jack Jr. was tall and young, had black hair, and a rich wife. His new wife and him somewhere out in the countryside. After having “honeymooner’s sex” he looked out to the lake from the porch. The night was cool, which was nice since the days got so hot. It was the hottest summer for a good while. A good while.

His new wife sally lay out on the bed. She had gotten a little drunk and was no good for any thing but lifting arms and dropping them. Or making her arms do dancing type movements, and that sort of thing. Jack jr. had a little time to himself. He guessed that was normal for honeymooners, in a bed and breakfast, out by a lake on a cool summer night. A good time to think.

Think about what he had gotten himself in to. A marriage. The word made him cringe, slit his eyes, and spit. Slap his hand on his thigh, yell goddamn, and keel over. Grab, cut and die. Was there any chance of any one else, anything else but going along the course that this meant, this marriage. There was a knock on the door. Jack answered.

The small cowering maid stood there her hair pulled back. Her eyes almost bursting out of her head:
-Sorry mister Jagger, but it is your father on the phone. He says it is urgent.
-It always is.—Jagger said and the maid’s face went to the ‘sad for you, but not really-suck it up’ face. –Where do I take it?
-Down the hall and to the right mister Jagger.—Jagger walked down the hall. Thinking the whole time that his father was probably drunk, and wanting to chew him out about not showing up. But why should he show up for him, jack sr. Dad…

-Jack how was the wedding.
-Good dad. Look sorry I didn’t show up, but sally’s parents had rented a big club and… jack sr. Interrupted.
-Jack if any one asked I was with you okay?
-I was with you—Sr. said in his fatherly tone. Jr. Hated his irresponsible father’s fatherly tone.
-What happened dad? A bar fights get out of hand?
-Jack this is important this is not likes other times… A man could be dead.
-Really.—Jack thought that his father had this coming. He knew that he did. -Sure dad no problem.

After that jack jr. hung up the phone, and did his best to forget the whole thing. Went water skiing with his new wife, and her folks. Went out on a rented boat. Fished for sharks and whale watched on the coast. Thought not one bit about his father. In the movies when there’s a montage of people getting older-most notably in Good Fellas when it’s the gangsters and their wives having a good hooray back in the days of luxury- well, that is what this felt like to jack jr. It lasted a month or so.
He also
Made his wife do little ape movements, scratching under the arms and what not. When she was asleep.



It was all over the news one morning. ‘Man found beaten bloodily and savagely destroyed and left for dead.’ Everyone was disgusted and could not stop talking about it. Wanting to find out more about it to express their utter disbelief and to say ‘how could! Some one?’ The news made a couple full days of news out of it-solid. Then some president was killed and no one cared any more for a bit. But the police cared. And Wolfe, one who cared, maybe the most, wanted to find the ‘bum killer’ as dubbed cnn. He stayed up all night in his shabby apartment watching American Psycho to try to get in to the killer’s head-mind. Not all the cops were as dim witted as Wolfe though, and a rookie talked to a lady that lived near by the crime scene and she said she saw the whole thing. Wolf had an eyewitness. Wolfe took her out to lunch, made several advances on her and then got a description, and then used 11 or 12 lines from his ‘hard nosed cop come-on line book,’ from the big screen; written by some balding guy with glasses that was as skinny as a post. The ladies always hated him and thought he was a chauvinistic pig, but they never came back. That was the problem, the lines only half worked for Wolfe.

Wolfe sat at his desk with is gun strapped around his shoulder and around his waist. Every one else took their guns off. It was kind of an unspoken rule. Wolfe years ago was a real good cop. Tough and sharp. But as it goes with good cops the lure of sex and booze destroyed him. He hung around too many blond reporters gave too many interviews and finally became a shell of the man he once was. But this case was a special one for Wolfe. The bum that had been killed he had known. Put him in the drunktank many times. Wolfe and that old bum were each other’s shrinks and had a bond that this ‘bum killer’ took away.

Wolfe sits smoking, brooding, and sad. Sadistic, stupid, but secure. Wolfe sits like a 13-year-old smoking a cigarette trying to look like the star in the film, trying to play the role of the man. Wolfe is going to get his man. The evil son of a bitch.


A knock comes on the door. Jack sr. comes up to the door in a ratty old pair of boxers, plaid. Opens the door so the chain caught the nose of Wolfe:
-Hey Wolfe how are things going?—Wolfe and Jack sr. are old friends of course. -Hope your not here on business Wolfe.—Jack said smile on his face. If it was Wolfe looking for the ‘bum killer’, jack thought, he was surely be in the clear.
-No no jack. I was wondering if I could borrow a pair of jeans?
-I need to go plain clothed. Get with the people.—This was laughable. Wolfe had been on TV so many times he could walk down the street in goalies gear and get recognized. But what was the harm jack thought.
-Sure—. Jack through about three pairs of old ratty jeans on the floor. -Take your pick Wolfe. Wolfe did. Everything Jack sr. owned was ratty, he was a ratty man. Most men get ratty at some point in their lives.

Later that day Jack jr. was coming over and Jack sr. wanted to clean up a bit. Make the impression, which sr. thought was true, that he had been cleaning up his life. He returned all his beer bottles and got about 70 bucks bought a ten dollar bottle of whiskey that cost 23.96$ vacuumed, combed his hair, and masturbated in to the mirror after he was all spiffed up. He loved him self all clean-shaven and combed up.

The plan was to tell jack jr. every thing. Make the apologies that he knew he should of made for years. The plan was planed because he could be going away for a long time, and did not want to lose his only living family member. He was going to tell jr every thing. Lay all his faults on the line and in this somehow come up with a way to guilt the boy in to giving his dad a solid alibi. Booze always helped jack sr. act. He was getting ready, anticipating.

And here was Wolfe the big dumb oaf of a man standing there in his boxer trying on sr.’s jeans. Luckily for sr. Homosexuality was not an issue for him and his son, no scaring thing between sr. And jr. with that. Big naked Wolfe, though, was repulsive and stupid. Generally most people that are exposed to all of us by TV become Phony and Not that fun to be around or interesting:
-You mind Wolfe?—Jack said opening the door-I want to talk to my boy.
-Oh yes.—Wolfe put on a pair of sr. pants and left the room head down, and up bobbing in the stupid world of small thoughts, and delusions of competence, that was detective Wolfe.

Father and son laughed at detective Wolfe a moment. Jr looked stronger than the little weak kid that had left home so many years ago. Jr. Looked in his old room:
-Place has not changed much.—He looked at his father. He was not so bad he thought. Just a sad sorry old man.
-No jack, I didn’t touch your room. I don’t want to forget. You know son I love you.
-That’s nothing new dad. You tell me every time you’re drunk.—Jr. Looked around. He did not feel so bad for him any more-what’s the trouble dad? Were you lying about someone maybe being dead?—Jack sr. Looked paranoid down the hall to see if Wolfe had gone. He was.
-Yes son. It ‘s bad. It was right after waiting for you at the hall. You know where you didn’t show up.—Jr. Looked at his father angrily. Like this was somehow his fault jr. thought. The old man fucked up. That was the bottom line.
-Look dad sorry but like I said sally’s…—he was cut off by his father.
-I don’t care about that jack. What ever you wanted. It was your night. But it would’ve been nice to be invited to my own sons, my only son’s wedding.
-Dad. It was not your kind of scene. It was an intellectual thing you know. Oh wait you don’t that’s the point.—Jr. laughed at his wit or what he thought was his wit. Sr. did not seem as impressed. Sr. put his hand up. Said
-Enough. Just say I was there if the cops ask, okay?
-Sure dad. Jack said-can I go now.—Jack said half way out the door. Angry-bye dad. We’ll get it touch, you know, when ever…

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Old Comments

  • Just a short phone call here and there to make sure the other was not dead.

    Too familiar…20 years worth & I’m 36…Excellent words…

    Wolfe….Jack….You wouldn’t be Jack Jr in a Kerouacian literary progression, would you…
    You remind me a bit more of ol’ Bull Lee than Thomas Wolfe’s literary descendant…

    Posted by deminizer  on  11/02  at  10:15 PM
  • Where do I sign up for the rest of the story??? Am hooked

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  11/03  at  03:29 AM
  • The style of writing is fast and gives it a feel of urgency but I found the lack of punctuation and inverted commas, captial letters etc throughout, a bit awkward to deal with.

    Additionally, I wondered if you could ‘show’ us the background and things going on unseen by some method rather than just ‘telling’ us?

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  11/05  at  04:52 PM
  • Page 1 of 1 pages

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