Saturday, April 13, 2024

Hooters to Go

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Nico and Christopher Jr. enjoying the Salt Life on the island. March 20, 2024

April 13, 2024

My wife and two of my four children returned from Madrid, Spain, at Miami International Airport after spending 6 weeks with her family. That was a long time to be away from me. One would think I partied it up while she was gone, but I did not. If it wasn't work-related, I stayed home most of the time. I was lucky to enjoy peace and quiet but missed them dearly.

The flight arrived around 8:30 PM. When they went through U.S. Customs, we got the luggage to the car, which was nearly 10. It was me, her, and our 4 children. Reunited once again, and it felt so good! But now, they were all hungry. Time to open up the wallet and spend the big bucks on food and drinks. This economy is not friendly to a family this size. I know Miami, but I do not know Miami well enough to find a nice restaurant in a good neighborhood with a safe environment. Besides, it was a Thursday night, and there was little open for as late as it was on a Thursday night. And with so many people in our party, the opinions on food vary. In the end, someone will be unhappy with the choice to eat.

I drove aimlessly in the night northwest on U.S. 27 through Miami Springs. With no luck, I hopped on the 826 and headed north. I was bound to find something. But as we passed each exit, I began to get anxious. I wasn't finding anything to my liking or anyone else's liking. The time was ticking. We were on the clock. Soon, nothing would be open, and no one was going to eat. It was time to make a decision. So, I headed north towards Broward County. A place I knew well. I was bound to find something. So I jumped on the 817 and headed into Pembroke Pines. We were pushing 11:30 P.M., and it was time to choose or lose. That is when I saw the owl. 

The sign was still lit in a parking lot full of cars, indicating the restaurant was open. I looked at my wife and told her, "Ready to see some boobs? Because we are stopping at Hooters." I could go for some chicken wings and a lively atmosphere.

I have four boys. Chicken wings and boobs may be too early in their life, but we have to eat.

Thankfully, the restaurant still accepted patrons, and the hostess could seat us. We followed the lady in the orange short shorts towards the back of the restaurant. Our 4 kids in tow passed all the adults as they drank beer and talked about grown-up things while sucking on their chicken bones. Soon, my wife and I will be discussing their flight and trip while both of us would stop intermittently to tell our kids to knock it off or we are going to leave and not eat. 

The other server ladies would stop and say hello to our 3 and 4-year-old boys. Bending down, squeezing their cheeks. Their tight white shirts held the same things that their mom breastfed them with when they were born. I'm unsure if it was an appropriate place to go with 2 toddlers and 2 teenage boys, but we gotta eat.

The boys messed with their iPads, and the 2 older ones played on their phones. I concentrated on my wife, and my eyes were laser-focused on her beautiful face so that my eyes did not wander about. There were women everywhere, but I hadn't seen my wife in nearly 2 months, and there was only one person whose Hooters I was ready to enjoy, but that is a story I can not tell. But I knew we would be home at around 1 A.M. after dinner, where I would have a second helping of Hooters-to-go. 


647 words


Blake (sitting) and Max enjoying the beach on a beautiful day. April 13, 2024





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Thursday, March 21, 2024

My Arms are Wide Open

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Boys relaxing in the hotel room over Nicos Leap Year birthday celebration! March 2, 2024


March 21, 2024


I know the spot on my couch that fits me like a glove. All the grooves, indentations, and soft spots fit my body like a glove. Oh, Mr reliable never fails me. I'm not a couch potato in the sense that I'll lie here with a bag of chips and munching away. However, that does sound alright! 

Like most people, I enjoy a quiet moment with myself after working long hours or completing some chores around the house. There's so much peace and tranquility in one's space. The safety of my environment while scrolling through my YouTube can place me in a vegetative mood. It's the only time I don't have a care in the world. I can just mindlessly watch others upload their lives to their YouTube videos without worrying about anything happening in my life. I love that there are no plots to follow. No character arc, no storyline, not even conflict. I can simply YouTube and chill. Life is as simple as the next YouTube swipe. 

But all that peace and serenity can be changed when having little kids. They seem to always know how to ruin my peace and tranquility. Little kids do not care how comfortable you are! Their pitter-patter of little feet running back and forth is set in motion to make you uncomfortable. Their pent-up energy explodes like a runaway freight train as they crash their little bodies into me. The boys want something from me at the most inopportune time. They think that they don't have my attention, but they do.   Finding rest can be challenging when even their little needs are a priority. Hot dang! They demand my attention. Those boys have a story to tell when they open their mouths. Blake and Max are full of conflicts and characters. At times, they can be my favorite show. I don't know; better than any YouTube at the time.

But, if I'm being completely honest with you, these moments are the best moments I genuinely cherish. And nothing is better than when they run out of energy, crash into my wide open arms, and lay snuggled into either side of my body. 

"My spot!" One yells as he snuggles into my left side. "Don't move this my spot."

Don't worry. I open my arms are wide open for you both. 

My boys are so small enough to fit in the pocket of my armpits as I embrace them. I have four boys, and these are gonna be my last two. Nico and Christopher did the same thing. I documented that years ago in another blog. They're doing their own things. It saddens me that my two older ones don't embrace me this way, other than the occasional walk-by hug. I am fortunate that I can still enjoy their embrace and the love they have for me. And I am thankful that when Max and Blake embrace me, I can feel the love that took me back 10 years ago. 

Like a king-size bed, my arms are always wide open and stretched long to embrace my boys; I will always be here, my children, in my loving arms. My boys fall into this comfortable spot on the couch where the grooves align my body. It's better than scrolling YouTube.  And these arms are wide open for them as long as I am alive.


The boys waiting for a meal at the Village Inn. March 1, 2024.






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Sunday, December 31, 2023

No Closure, a true police story

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Nico, Captain, and Christopher. December 11, 2023 Miami Gardens, Florida. Hard Rock Stadium! 


December 31, 2023
 


The crowd hissed and chastised me for not intervening in their domestic problem. They called the police to help mediate and resolve their issue. Still, when they did not get what they ordered, the family threw a temper tantrum towards me. As a family man and fellow human being, I understand why they were upset. Here is this loving family trying to get their loving daughter, sister, cousin, niece, and friend into rehab, and since she won't go with them willingly, they want the police to seize her. But without a court order she has free will to go about her business. I reiterated that to the group's spokesperson, who demanded I take her "immediately." 

"She does not want to go with you," I begrudgingly said. "I can't snatch her up. And if you grab her against her will, then it is battery and kidnapping. There is nothing more that I can do."

The family member lasered into me with his eyes. It gave me chills. A reminder of the feeling I would get when my father would get mad at me and only spoke to me with his eyes. The family member didn't understand my predicament or the laws of the State, or he simply did not care; the man wanted me to take action and take his cousin into custody. It is funny how he understood when I told him that he couldn't touch her because he would go to jail. So he wasn't ignorant of the law or had deaf ears to my explanation. Yet, he wanted me to do it under the color of law, which I refused because she still had rights. 

"Well, Baker Act her!" (an involuntary act of committing someone to a mental hospital)

"She does not meet the State requirement of a Baker Act," I said. "Have you gone to the courts and requested a judge sign Ex Parte Petition for Involuntary Assessment and Stabilization?"

"No, we did not. We just want an intervention. We want you to intervene," 

This is frustrating. I want to help this family out, but I can do nothing. No laws are being broken. She has free will! Besides, no human can find salvation in this open parking lot, a backdrop of a Subway sandwich restaurant and a discount shoe store. This is a free society where she can move about and do what she wants in privacy. This group of people stopped listening to anything. Their shouts of anger and disdain were hurled at me like knives due to my inaction. Their pleas were not falling on deaf ears, I hear them, but the girl has rights too.  

"Okay, I'll talk to her again," I told them while I turned and walked towards her.

She was a tiny thing. Five foot nothing, one – hundred pounds, if not less. She was wearing a college football hat, the brim of the hat shading her pretty face and light eyes from the sun bearing down on her weary soul. She was cute, to say the least. Her blue jeans were tight-fitting. Her top was tucked in nicely, and she had a belt to match her shoes. But don't let that deceive you. She was tough, arms crossed, and was standing her ground in this Sunday afternoon parking lot of blacktop asphalt and freshly painted lines that marked parking spots. There was no activity in the plaza, but even if it was a busy day, I believe she wouldn't move for anyone, not even a car.  

"Well, here we are again."

"Yup," she said with a smile.

"You know, the support behind me in favor of your wellness is overwhelming. I see how you might not want to go with them. How about I ask them to leave, and I can ask the one person you trust to stay behind, and you can leave with them."

I triggered a thought process. She relaxed her guard a little. I was happy that she saw that I was also looking to help her. Not lecture her.

"That sounds good, but I'm not ready to get out," she said.

"That FSU logo on your hat. Is that just for looks, or did you go there?"

"I graduated from there." 

"So you're an educated person who understands what you want and doesn't want," I said.

"I can tell you that I am not going with them. I just want to do my thing."

"I'm told you're running with the gangs down south. That they are using you for sex?"

"Who is using who? I am getting free drugs. So, I think of it the other way around."

"Well, that makes a little sense. But you do not feel used?"

"I'm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions. I fully understand who I am and what I want. That's not being used. I can stop when I want."

"That is what all addicts say. But you know, I have only been in your life for 20 minutes. I can offer you anything you need. I can understand why you probably won't go with me in the short time you have known me. The people who have known you the longest and know you the best are standing behind me. They can offer you love, support, rehab, anything. And you turn this down, why?"

"You don't judge me. You go about your day. If I turn down your help, you move on to the next call. They are always there. They do not understand that I am not ready. When I am ready, I will get out. But right now, I am in. They can't understand that, won't understand it, and refuse to understand it."

"Their support may not last, though. Then you will truly be on your own."

"When I am in a strange bed with a dude from the gang who just f#$ked me, and I get my fix, you don't think I am truly alone? Knowing that at any moment, I could be killed by a rival gang or overdose with no help. Believe me, no one understands what's at stake more than me. It's my life. That is reality. You, being a police officer and dealing with this daily, should relate."

"I can relate to understanding and wanting freedom to do what you want. I can't relate to shunning family. I can't understand your demons and willingness to be used as an object and not a human being. But I do not live your life or share your experiences. That said, you seem set in your way, and I can relate to that. I will let them know."

"So I can go now?"

"Hang out for one second before you go, please."

I turned from her. Deep down, I wanted her to go, but she wasn't. I did not want to face this family of about 20 and tell them that I failed to mediate the situation.  

"She's not going with you, me, or anyone."

The group began yelling at me, sneering, calling out names, and wailing.  

"I will just snatch her," the cousin said."

"Then you will go to jail. As I warned you before," I replied.

"Can I go now," I heard her ask out loud.

I turned back and shouted, "See ya!"

"Drugs! She has drugs in her purse! Search her purse!" someone in the crowd yelled out in a last-ditch effort. 

"She won't allow me to search her purse, but I will ask.

Can I search your purse?" I shouted.

"Nope," she said and walked away.

I often think of her and wonder if she ever got out. I hope she did, but in police work, the only time you get closure from a situation like that is on an overdose call and you find them dead or near death.  

That was over ten years ago. To this day, I am still determining if she ever decided to get out. There is no closure for me or the family.

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2024

As we enter a new year remember, that family and love is all you have in the end.  I love you all. May the new year bring good health and fortune. 


Max and Blake chilling window side enjoying the cool crisp air of the season. December 31, 2023






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Wednesday, October 11, 2023

The Pit and the Haunted Trail, a Halloween Story Part I

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You can't make everyone happy! Christopher and Nico September 3, 2023.


October 11, 2023

I'm caught in the netherworld surrounded by chaos and destruction.  I was escorted into my situation while seeking shelter to escape from a bunch of stone cold killers.  This is a horrible situation I got myself into. Sadly I don't think anyone would miss me.  Why would anyone even bother searching for me? I'm not a good dude.  But that's a story for another time.  For now, I need to figure out how to get out of my current predicament.  Truthfully, you aren't going to pity me when you find out I'm a paid killer.  But there are way more awful people out there in the world than me.  I’m paid to exterminate the existence of people worse than me.  Yet here I am, in the pit of the underworld when I should have been up there, enjoying the cool air and admiring the foliage change.  There is something about crisp cool air that screams fall around Halloween time.

Before all this mess happened, I was waiting to receive the 2nd payment of my last kill in this motel near Big Valley Pines. I like motels like this one, or cabins, because I am far enough away from the heat and close enough to meet the person who held the remaining cash for my hit job.  I still take cash.  You aren't going to CashApp me fifty thousand dollars.  The problem with collecting the other half of money owed is that you are depending on the payer to come through.  I guess that is one of the drawbacks to the job.  Well, that, and killing someone.  

I was bored, so I left my room and wandered about.  I don't use a smart phone that can be pinged; I don't have a Netflix account so I'm not streaming movies.  I'm just sitting there in my room, bored trying to occupy my time.  I'm staying in an area they call the bible belt of America.  I'll search for the bible and thumb through it.  Read the local ad paper left on the bedside table and review all the restaurants in the area.  No, I don’t order food either.  I'll do some pared down crossfit.  And for some odd reason I will remove the artwork off the room walls and inspect it. Then maybe take a shower and peer through the window.  Man, will I peer through the window in an obsessive, paranoid style.  

During my journey outside, I will sit near the pool from time to time.  This isn't a resort but strangely the pool is heated.  I watch normal people go about their life.  Families in the pool, lovers in the jacuzzi, other psychopaths overseeing it all.  Yes, there are others out there like me.  They just haven't had the courage to do what I do, or they hide it pretty well.  Deviant behavior can be easily hidden.  I can't explain to you why I even do what I do.  But you clearly have to be a psychopath to kill a fellow human being.  Which would explain my current predicament, I suppose.  I wish I could point to a certain event that morphed me into a killer.  There just isn't a good back-story to my murderous ways.  I lived a normal life; raised by both parents.  I have several siblings that have really good jobs.  My sister is a doctor of medicine.  She has a clue that I do bad things because I go to her when I need wound care due to a hit gone wrong.  She never asks, therefore I never tell.  However, if she decided to turn her intuition into curiosity and dug into my life and found out I was a hit man. I wouldn't be mad if she turned me in.  I love her too much to hurt her.    

Where was I? Oh, my murderous way.  I'm a gamer.  A damn good gamer.  I don't need cheat codes, or practice, I have the dexterity of Michael Jordan but in the gaming world.  So, here I was, playing Call of Duty, talking crap on my headset, enjoying my Legendary status leveled up 850 but only because I am capped.  This dude befriended me.  So our crap talking went from gaming headsets, to messenger, to text, then phone calls and finally meet ups.  She sensed something in me.  Yes, I said dude earlier, but she used a voice manipulator when she played and spoke with her on the phone.  Gamer girls catch so much hell when they play, so I get why she lied.  She constructed this world outside the game and made a network for mercenaries.  She sold a good bill of goods. What can I say?  She was like 2011 Bitcoin, and I wanted to get involved before her stock went sky high.  

After getting bored by the pool, I went to check out the vending machine and grab a few snacks before I went back to my room.  After choosing Sun Chips, Muscle Milk, and a Snickers bar, I decided to check with the man up front for any messages.  This front desk guy has to know something is up with me.  I have been asking him for messages the last 3 days.  He most likely thinks, "Who doesn't have a cell phone nowadays?"  As I approached the desk I could see he was busy, so I turned toward the rows of tourist pamphlets near the entrance.  All this tourist trap nonsense makes me laugh that people don’t  pre-plan nowadays?  

The last of the guest check-in is complete so I walk over to see if there are any messages.  "No messages, but hey, if you're bored there is a ghost trail behind the motel you can check out."  "What business is it of yours if I'm bored or not buddy?" The kid got nervous, flustered.  That doesn't seem normal for a dude that deals with people all day.  “Well, you were umm,( he was stammering) looking at those pamphlets. I assumed you wanted something to do being alone and all.  I could send you a girl too."  

"Just messages friend.  Only messages," I told him sternly.  "By the way, focus on your job," I muttered as I walked back toward my room. 

The thing is in this game there is no one I can trust.  How can I depend on the person paying me the rest of my money after I do the job?  I got a good cut of the cash up front, but I want the rest of my money.  Planning and then executing my game plan isn't easy.  And also the risk is bigger.  Today there are cameras everywhere, people and their cell phones recording all the darn time.  What is the point in taking out the person who shafted my money?  Then I really won't get paid.  However, an assassin has to have his standards I suppose.  I need a new profession. 

Sitting in this room is driving me crazy and I'm over thinking.  That front desk kid is making me curious.  He certainly was inquisitive about my goings on here. In the future, I need to stop being cheap and buy a throw down phone because really, being cheap is the only reason why I don't have one.  It’s classic me.  But, if I was smart, I wouldn't trust him.  If only there was a sign to tell me I was in danger.  

The motel room phone rings>

"Hello? Yes, okay. But I don't remember telling you to call me if a message was left. Hello?"  He hung up.

I know, that was probably my sign but I'm getting stir crazy and I want to go.  But I promised myself to be extra careful.  I need to check things out before I head over.  But first I will call him back and see if he will deliver the message.  

<pause, phone rings, and rings, and rings> 


SEE PART II


Christopher and his brother Blake. September 9, 2023.


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The Pit and the Haunted Trail, a Halloween Story Part II

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The 4 boys at a trampoline park. July 17, 2023



October 11, 2023


I know, that was probably my sign but I'm getting stir crazy and I want to go.  But I promised myself to be extra careful.  I need to check things out before I head over.  But first I will call him back and see if he will deliver the message.  

<pause, phone rings, and rings, and rings> 

September 11, 2023


Well, this sucks he didn't answer.  I slightly pull back the right corner of the drapes where I have a clear line of sight of the front office.  I do not move the curtains. I do not disturb the air conditioner. I'm frozen like a wax figure at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.  It must have been a straight hour before I decided to go over to the office. Honestly, it did appear to be business as usual.  But I need the right timing.  And the timing for now was perfect because the family of 6 right next to my room decided to leave.  They are really noisy and every time they went out they carried so many bags I thought they were checking out each time.  The mom and kids are standing in front of my door while waiting for their dad to come out.  I seize the moment and open my door, step outside, close my door and stand behind them like a human shield.  

They pay no mind to me standing here. All the children are oblivious to what's happening around them. Mom is staring at her phone.  I take a tactical pause before I move.  But then I suddenly see 2 men locked on me.  They are standing at the door of the front office.  I do not move.  One of the men walks out and the other one is behind him.  They do not run, their walk is smooth and deliberate.  My mind is racing with many thoughts of what to do.  I am strapped but if I take out my gun we are all going to die.  I am not that cruel.  They are getting closer, just several doors down.  I began to retreat back inside my room but then dad walked out of his room.  I turned and pulled him out of the way.  His body, acting as a bowling ball, knocking all his kids to the ground.  His wife fell backwards over the parking stop.  I slammed the door as bullets struck the wood frame and wood shrapnel exploded everywhere.  I never choose a motel without an egress so I run towards the back of the room while grabbing a table chair.  I whip it over my shoulder and chuck it as hard as I can at the rear window.  The chair shatters the glass but it's not tempered.  Jagged pieces still surround the opening, but I don't have time to be picky and I dive through the opening.  The curtains entangle me and I summersault to the ground, down the embankment, until coming to rest by a tree.  More gunshots ring out and the bullets strike the tree trunk above my head.  I am in a bad spot.  

Through the panic I remember the motel clerk telling me about the ghost trail back here.  I scamper around the tree, away from the bullets at the same time reaching for my gun.  I turn back and return fire trying to hold them at bay.  They attack back.  I scan the forest looking for the haunted trail.  There was something, it was about 25 yards away.  A woman!  A woman waved me over to her for safety.  I can't believe my luck that a stranger would help me through this chaos.  I scanned my area and grabbed a bunch of rocks and piled them onto the curtain.  Then I quickly tied a knot.  The end of the curtain looked like a big ball. I then lassoed it and threw it as far as I could in the opposite direction.  Momentarily the gunfire was redirected.  It was my chance to run, and I took it.  I ran towards the girl as fast as I could.  The gunmen realize my ploy and began to shoot back towards my direction but it was too late, I made to the girl and she directed me down the trail.  It was a haunted trail.

"Where did he disappear to you buffoons," the angry boss demanded.  

"He ran down there," one of the buffoons said.  

"Then why didn't you follow him?'  

"We tried boss but something prevented us from going down that trail.  I don't know what it was."  

"Incompetence," he said.  "I know my no good sister in law paid to kill my brother.  He was a lowlife but he was still my brother grab her from the car and bring her down here, now!"

I thanked my savior for providing me safety.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I had no money on me, no identification to show who I was, and nothing of value to hand her.  

“I’m sure there is something we can find you can sacrifice for the greater good.” She said.

I stopped in my tracks.  I didn’t like how she said that and frankly I think I could find me own way out. 

“Wait,” I said.  “I can find my way down this trail.  I promise you I can come back ad pay you.  I am indebted to you. But those guys are coming after me and I do not want to place you, or anyone else, in danger.”

She turned to me.  Her outfit was clean. But we were in the mud.  I was wet from the dew and sweat. She was dry and pristine. I had obvious injuries.  She looked pure. “You need not worry about them or anything else ever again.  There is a higher purpose for you to serve.  We cannot waste anymore time.  And you cannot leave.”

I took my gun at from my waistband and pointed it at her. “Look, you saved me.  I’m grateful but I’m not asking if I can leave.  I am telling you that I am going.  It is as simple as that.”

She stated at me perplexed.  Her brown skin was pure and smooth.  She reached out her hand and placed her palm over the opening of the barrel.  

“This is a gun? You are primitive in my world. You are lower than the dung that a dung beetle rolls.  You cannot control me with this weapon.  There is no control here. Pull your trigger and find out.  But you only have one attempt.”

I have been around.  She wants me to shoot. I obliged.  I fired the remaining rounds but she did not waver.  I took a step back, reloaded, and shot again. 1 round, 2 round, 3 rounds, 4 rounds, 5 rounds and so on.  I screamed and shouted over the loud bangs.  She did not move!  I reloaded and shot again over and over.  She did not move! I went to reload again but there was nothing else to load.

“haha,” she laughed.  “Are you done? Is it my turn now?”

She walked over and wrapped her fingers around both wrists bending my hands towards me chest. I dropped the gun in pain. There was a loud snap.  Both my wrists crumpled into a heap. I feel to my knees. She lifted me up by my hair until my feet left the ground with her left arm.  She used her right fist to punch my face in.  I could feel the grit of my porcelain. I bit my tongue.  Blood was steaming from my nose.  She smacked my face and the crack of my jaw send chills down my spine.  

“I will see you in hell,” she said.  

By broken body was lifted about her head and she violently threw my down the hole.  My body banged the left and right sides of the well like walls.  My bones broke with every crushing blow until I hit the bottom.  But I didn’t lose conscience.  I want to lose consciousness.  Why am I still alert?  Put me out of my misery! 

Slowly my bones began to mend.  Breaking them was easy but now they are being stretched and put back in place. My rolled up muscles were pulled back over the bone.  My flesh stretched and tightened.  It was eructating pain. Until, I wasn’t.  I was back to normal.  Standing in a pit of chaos and destruction. 

I felt hands on my shoulders. I looked to my left shoulder and then my right.  I could see it was that beautiful brown skin again.  

“Are you ready for round 2,” she asked.  

She then proceeded to crush my clavicles.  

I hope there isn’t a round 3. 

Max and Blake with Mia. September 10, 2023. 


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Tuesday, September 26, 2023

Glad to Be Living

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The 4 boys crossing the bridge to the railroad track southbound side.  September 16, 2023. 



September 26, 2023


I'm wading in the intercoastal waterway just off the stern of the boat in water about 5 feet deep while enjoying the scenery of a popular boating island somewhere off the coast of where I live. If I were to wade a little further out, the shelf of sand I'm standing on would end like a cliff, sending me 20 feet or more further down. This island our boat is anchored off is situated in the middle of the barrier islands that separate the ocean from the mainland. The water from the Atlantic Ocean pours in through the mouth of the inlet, constantly purging out the old water and rejuvenating the souls and wildlife of those bathing in this paradise.

Summertime is teetering on the brink of the Florida fall season, so the current water temperature is just right for dipping your body. I'm baptizing myself again. I enjoy moments in the water because the relaxation inside my weary body allows me to contemplate these extraordinary moments and my existence. Why, when we humans are confronted by a large body of water or a majestic mountain range, does it cause us to reflect? Maybe due to the sheer size, we feel small and realize there must be a God. The magnificence of that view, feeling, or moment frees the endorphins throughout one's body, allowing creativity to flow like an open dam. I think to myself in these personal moments: I'm born, raised, schooled, live, die. And not necessarily in that order! This cannot be the only thing that life has to offer?

I observe the other people in the water around me. Are they thinking about life or just busy living it? I scan the people around me, and they talk, laugh, drink, and have a good time. I realize that everyone with a boat around me is listening to their favorite music, which makes a mangled mess of everyone else's favorite music. They must be too buzzed to realize that all their music combines to create the perfect melody for a metaphoric culture clash. But they are all happy. The people on the shores of this island, not on their boats, sit in their chairs, under their canopies, next to their coolers and BBQ grills, enjoying their downtime in what is otherwise a busy American life. In America, weekends are made for us. For some, ocean life is America's favorite pastime.  

Most of us get up every day and earn an honest living. Some people put in 30 hours, others 40, and most put in 48 to 60 hours weekly. There are people with multiple jobs just to put bread on their table. Then, we get to choose whom we give our money to so that we may enjoy some of the fruits of our labor. But sometimes, our labor needs to be more. Everyone wants a piece of our paycheck. If the product is amazing, we gladly hand over our cash. But there are always unforeseen circumstances like hospital visits, car problems, school purchases, kid extracurricular activities, fuel for our vehicles, or a loved one needing a few extra bucks. All of this can be overwhelming. Is this what life is all about?

Here I am, my head bobbing like a buoy, my feet dangling on the bottom of the intercostal, thinking about what more life can offer me. It sounds selfish, considering I am contemplating life's problems while relaxing in a boat on top of clear blue water. Could I be experiencing entitlement issues for yearning to have even better things in life? We went on a family reunion trip to the Dominican Republic a few years ago. My job offers vacation time, so I was on a paid leave time excursion with my kids. My boys were complaining and making the rest of us difficult because they were tired. I looked at them and told them, "You are on a catamaran off the coast of the DR. What on earth could possibly be upset about?'" It was disheartening, to say the least. But they are outstanding kids; however, at this moment, they were misguided in their displeasure. I was very frustrated that they couldn't fathom how lucky they were. Now, that is entitlement, but they are children and can't fully grasp how significant this moment is. I know exactly how fortunate we are to be here and how hard I work to make moments like this trip happen. I answered one of my questions. It isn't an entitlement when you work for it.  

Back to my current reality, in the sea, near an island, boating my cares away. The scenery is so beautiful here. Everything has its perfect place. The water, the sand, fish, birds, people. Everything at this precise moment has a perfect energy. Where evolution has placed everything in such an ideal spot, guided by the hand of God. I'm happy I was born and raised to know such a place exists. And I'm so glad to be living.


Max, Blake and Mia. September 10, 2023. 


838 words





© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

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Friday, July 21, 2023

A Heap of Trouble, a true police story

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Nico and Christopher clowning around. July 17, 2023.

July 21, 2023 

I'm dragging my heavy boots through this trash-ridden floor of newspapers, old used fast food bags, and other ungodly filth.  Thankfully, it's daylight, and I can see what is around me.  Give me sunlight any day over a Streamlight flashlight in the middle of the night.  No matter how long I do this job, I'm always amazed at how some people live.  Bugs and feces around this dwelling are as common as houseplants for some.  These walks are always different, though.  One must always determine what to expect from a hoarder because you never know what they kept.  Most of the time, it's momentous.  Other times hazardous.  It is worse than what you have seen on television.  It's like standing in Satan's pit.
I must turn my body sideways and weave like a snake around this towering clutter.  This is when my gun belt is truly unnecessary.  My gun holster and weapons are like giant hooks the trash can cling to.  There are many carved-out walkways that I could have taken.  But I am traveling the path towards my partner.  When I reached the end of my path, I met with an officer I almost missed due to all the rubbish.  He looked exasperated.  His white flesh was even whiter, like paste.  He was perspiring.  I saw that he was leaning against a wall with no trash pile.  It was odd, really, to see this space.  The officer's baseball cap was tilted upwards.  His left leg was bent, his shoe flat against the wall, and his left hand resting on his bent knee while his right hand wiped the sweat off his forehead.  

"What's up," I asked.  The officer removed his baseball cap and used the sleeve of his uniform shirt to wipe the rest of the sweat off his face.  

"I don't know how to explain it," he began, "you have to look for yourself."  

"Look where, "I said incredulously.   

He put his baseball cap back on his head.  He pulled the brim below his nose, his hand blocking his face.  He slowly lifted the hat back up and even the headband above his eyebrows. 

 "There," he pointed, "above that trash pile and below the top of the doorway." 

 "You want me to climb this mountain of filth like it's some sort of peak?"  

"You don't have a choice; you gotta see for yourself, sarge," he stated.  

"Alright, well, have the flag ready for me to plant when I reach the summit."

I squared my shoulders toward the heaping pile of trash and clutter, looking for a solid place to offer me some stabilization.  My left foot sank into the rubbish until only my heel and ankle were visible.  I leaned into the trash and searched for an area I could grab.  I settled for the doorjamb molding.  I lunged with my right foot slightly above my left knee, but my weight only compressed the trash.  My right leg began to sink further down as a small amount of surrounding trash cascaded down on top of me.  After the tiny avalanche of trash settled, I could hear a muffled sound.  I didn't move further.  I turned my head slightly.  My nose touched some old newspaper, and my right ear pointed toward the noise.  I went silent as I attempted to make out the muffled noise I could barely hear.  On the other side of the trash, I could hear the muffled sound of a clapping audience from an indistinct game show.  Then there was a muffled voice and some grunting, "What's that sound?  Is there a person over there?  I inquired.  "You gotta see for yourself.  You just gotta." The officer said in disbelief. 

Feeling defeated, I looked upward at the top of the trash hill.  Just charge up that hill, I said to myself.  

Left, right, left, right, I pumped my legs.  

Driving my body upwards, crushing and compacting the trash with each step, I was making my climb sturdier.  Almost there, to the peak, before I slid back to the base, I lunged forward and, like a swimming breaststroke, plunged my hands at the top and grabbed both sides of the doorway.  I pumped my legs as trash was shot out from beneath the soles of my boots until I got enough of my body over the top and leaned into the room.  This was the ultimate Stairmaster work.  Left, right, left, right, I pumped my legs, worked my feet, bent my knees.  There it was.  I saw what he was talking about when I reached the summit.  

At first, I could not believe what I was looking at.  Was the sweat in my eyes causing them to blur?  Was there toxicity in the air causing me to hallucinate?  I concentrated and focused hard, like looking through a microscope at a sample slide.  But sure as heck, there it was.  A man's head sticking up through a layered trash pile that appeared to be decapitated from its body.  However, he was alive.  The rest of his body, from the chest down, was buried and tightly packed from years of old trash.  I was practically looking at a landfill.  There was no bed, dresser, or furniture to be seen.  It was absorbed by this insurmountable amount of trash.  The man was also one with this trash.  He didn't look human anymore.  He wasn't talking, laughing.  He only shrieked like a wild animal in a zoo.  I knew it was definitely human, though.  He was a very large, wide, and heavy human because, with every bellow and rumble from his movement, there was a large circumference around him that was dethatched from the rest of the heap.  His arms were bent like a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  His little hands can grab the wrapped Burger King and McDonald's hamburgers.  The man in the pit's only friend would stop and give him the food from afar.  I looked around at everything going on in that one spot.  How did he live so long under these conditions?  He never moved: Not showering, shaving, or even using the bathroom.  He melted into the permanent foundation of this home.  Where do we even begin to get him out? 

I turned around and slid down the trash.  I looked at my officer and said, "Let's go, I need water and fresh air."  

As we made our way out, the man in the pit inside the room bellowed and made arching noises like a seal.  He thought we were leaving him behind because we didn't leave food.  I don't know.  The only thing I truly knew was that we had to get fire rescue there and cut him out.  But that is a story for another time.  


1,118 words

Hoarder help: https://www.helpguide.org/articles/anxiety/hoarding-disorder-help-for-hoarders.htm
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Max and Blake enjoying Key West, July 9, 2023. 




© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 




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