Good Morning Ted and Jody:
Nancy made it through yesterday with nary a sign of vertigo. She went to class and learned to make a form-fitting top that fits her to a T, well actually more like a “curvy-swervey,” er, curvaceous, er, well, you get the idea. Unfortunately, the top is for women only. I will have to make do just looking leaving the “good” part off that expression the form-fitting top does for her description-looking good. She also came home and sewed up a storm putting the border together for a quilt she is almost finished making. (I will do photos when it is done). No telling what she will get done today as neither of us has any place to go except our obligatory appearance at lunch (I still maintain, old people like us need to get out every day unless there is a damned good reason such as a hip replacement or in my case a brain transplant.
Tomorrow I take her to Vancouver to see the ENT guy. I hope he is good at what he does, for Nancy does not need this. I remember 10 years ago before she got properly diagnosed and prescribed. She went through hell. So, I am hoping this fellow is a good as the last one.
I spent the day working on my democratize money writing project. https://democratizemoney.wordpress.com/ It is around 31 thousand words—to short for a book, too long for either an article or pamphlet, so we’ll call it a monograph. However, a monograph is usually used for scholarly work; and, this is mostly me thinking. Perhaps we can get away with misnaming it. I figure to self-publish it as a supplement to my campaign for Congress as it does take 31 thousand and more words to explain my democratize money proposal. I figure I can do a read and fix in about 10 days and then get it to a nit-picky proof reader to find all the junk my eyes never find (inconsequential stuff like commas, misspelling, wrong words, and autocorrect errors; you know the stuff that differentiates a clown from a writer; and most readers use as an excuse to avoid far out ideas. However, I am not using crayon, so perhaps . . .).
It is still raining on and off here. We seem to be stuck in the winter diaries of the Lewis and Clark expedition, – from their winter of 1803-4 or thereabouts on the Pacific Coast. So, stay dry, warm, happy and healthy.
Warmest regards, Ed
030 Walter Beaverton Looks for Jessica Ann
Fiction in 987 words by T. Edward Westen, 2017
Walter Beaverton awoke to the next-door neighbor’s dog licking his face. David Bastion let his dog, Fellow Traveler, out every morning at 7 on the dot. Every morning at 7:06, Fellow Traveler was ready to go back inside for breakfast. Fellow Traveler, however, heard something on Walter Beaverton’s front porch or had seen movement there and had deviated from his normal routine and gone to investigate. Lo and behold it was Walter trying to pull covers over him that didn’t exist to ward off the morning chill. Fellow Traveler had never seen Walter in a fetal position on his front porch so he administered the only aid and comfort he could, he licked Walter’s face.
A dog licking one’s face is not quite what is meant by the ‘hair of the dog’ for the morning after. Walter responded with the kind of eloquence that only a groggy drunk running low on alcohol could, “Wass, woa, haba-haba, getaway.” And he pushed Fellow Traveler away from his face.
David Bastion, being 104 was also a creature of habit and when Fellow Traveler was not at the door at 7:06 for breakfast, Dave called. Fellow Traveler not having finished administering all the assistance he could to Walter Beaverton, did not respond. Fearing the worst, David came looking for Fellow Traveler. He arrived at the foot of Walter’s porch just as Walter uttered an expletive and pushed Fellow Traveler away again.
David bound up the steps, scooped up Fellow Traveler and kicked at the recumbent Walter Beaverton. “Pick on someone your own size. Get up man,” he said and kicked at Walter again. Finally, David left with Fellow Traveler clutched in his arms. “There, there, Daddy will not let the bad man hurt you. there, there.”
Walter Beaverton wondering what in the world is going on, but not yet mentally able to form the thought, struggled to his feet and finally placed his eye for a successful key scan. His front door opened and he fell inside. Again, getting to his feet he was able to utter a complete sentence, “This sucks.” Making his way to the kitchen area, Walter poured some tomato juice, vodka and tabasco into a glass and downed it in one gulp. “Ahhhh.” Things were finally beginning to come in to focus for Walter. He leaned over the sink let cold water ran over his head. “Brrrr” he uttered. Pulling his head upright he shook it leaving a cloud of flying water droplets to coat every surface within five feet. He exhaled and said, “Jessica Ann, time to get up.”
He went to Jessica Ann’s room opened the door. The room was clean, the bed was made and Jessica Ann was nowhere to be seen. He began to search the house. No, Jessica Ann anywhere in side.
He went next door and banged on it. From inside, a voice yelled, “Go away or I will call the police you dog masher, you.”
Walter yelled back, “Jessica Ann, have you seen Jessica Ann.”
The voice from inside, yelled back, “The police are on the way.”
Water opened communications to the police “My daughter, Jessica Ann is gone.” He listened and then gave his address. Then he said, “Good.”
As Walter left David Bastion’s porch and went to his, two police officers approached him. “What seems to be the problem?” one asked.
Walter said, “My daughter, Jessica Ann is missing. She is four-years old; and, she is missing.”
The second office had been using a hand-held device and before his partner could respond to Walter Beaverton he handed the device to his partner and pointed to the readout.
The first officer looked at the readout and then said to Walter Beaverton. “Yes, we got a report she was missing yesterday around noon.” He paused and then continued, “Mr. Thompson, an officer of the Family court, reported it, sir. I suggest you contact him for details. ´ Now we have to talk to the man who called us.” The two officers went to David Bastion’s door, leaving Walter standing by himself, and David Bastion opened it before they could announce themselves.
David Bastion pointed to Walter Beaverton who was just entering his home and said, “That’s the man officers, he is the one hurting Fellow Traveler. Drunk on the porch all night and this morning he hit Fellow Traveler. I saw it and I will swear to it.”
The first officer asked, “Who is fellow traveler?”
David pointed to his Chihuahua and said, “That is Fellow Traveler.”
The first officer asked, “Where did he get that name? It is a he, isn’t it?
“A man has to have someone to go through life with, a fellow traveler. I go through life with him, so Fellow Traveler he is. He, is a he,” replied David Bastion. Then pointing to the house next door, he asked, “Are you going to arrest him or what?”
“Was Fellow Traveler hurt?” the officer asked.
“His feelings were. I could tell,” David replied
“We’ll go have a talk with him. You and Fellow Traveler have a good day,” said the first officer.
Walter Beaverton opened the door before the officers got to the font porch. “I called Frank Thompson, he is on the way over.”
The first officer said, “Good, in the meantime can you tell us what you did to that dog?” pointing to the house next door.
Before Walter could attempt an answer, Frank Thompson arrived. “Good morning officers. I am Frank Thompson, an officer of the Family Court. What seems to be the problem here?
The second officer said, “I suspect you know more than we do. He,” pointing to Walter Beaverton, “Just tried to report his daugheter missing. The same daughter you reported missing yesterday noon.”
“When he returned home last night, he was in no condition to understand anything, much less be of assistance. I left him trying to match his eye with the scan lock and a ‘call me’ on his communications queue.”
“What time was that?” the second officer asked.
“About midnight,” Frank replied.
“When were you supposed to meet him?” the first officer asked.
“6 O’clock,” replied Frank Thompson. “He was six hours late to relieve us of caring for his daughter.”
Turing to Walter Beaverton, the second officer said, “I think you should come with us, Sir.”
“Where is Jessica Ann?” Walter pleaded, “Where is my little girl.”
“We will explain it all at the precinct office. Do you have an attorney, Sir?” asked the second policeman.