“How much did you pay for it?” Cecil asked.

“With tax and everything, it was two thousand and twelve dollars. They said that they took twenty five off since I wanted to be the first one to wash it,” he said smiling.

“I’ll give you three thousand for it,” Cecil said, reaching for his wallet.

“Are you nuts? Just go up the street and buy one of the other ones. This baby’s mine.”

Cecil just clenched his fists and took a deep breath. He had really had his heart set on beige. It was the color of his future, he just knew it. Now this bozo had thrown a monkey wrench into the whole works. He started to walk away, but then he turned back when he got to the end of the alley. He watched the man start to towel off the car and the sun just sparkled off that light brown carapace. He had to try again.

“Look. Here’s three thousand in cash,” he said holding out the money that he had crammed into his wallet.

“Man, I’ve got a date in a couple of hours and I just got this thing licensed in my name. I’m not selling this car. I don’t need the hassle. What is your name, neighbor?”, the young man asked.

“I’m Cecil Willis,” he said, still fuming.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ted, Ted Bundy,” he said holding his hand out. “Let’s be friends. I’ll even give you a ride up to the dealer if you want.”

Cecil reached out and reluctantly shook Ted’s hand. He had to admit to himself that Ted was certainly a charmer. He decided to wait around while Ted finished drying the car so the two of them could drive up the street together.

“Why are you walking around with three grand in cash?” Bundy asked.

“I was planning on buying this car today,” Cecil said.

“The early bird gets the worm,” Bundy replied, smiling.

“Yeah, you’re right. I really had my heart set on beige. Are you sure this was the last one?”

“Yep. I started looking for this car when I got back from the back east. I was working over in Ballard and I asked around at the VW dealership over there and then they sent me to Freeway Motors. I’m going to go up and grab my coat and wallet, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Ted said as he ran up the stairs.

Cecil just stared down at his shoes while he sat on the back stairs of the house where Ted lived. He might have to settle for a car of a different color, since his new neighbor didn’t seem to want to part with the beige bug.

Ted came back and the two of them got into the brand new car. Cecil just loved the sound of the engine and the feel of the plastic seats and the plastic handle on the dashboard. Everything fit together so well. When Ted finally closed his door, the pressure almost popped their ears. They just looked at each other and laughed.

They drove up to Freeway Motors and Ted introduced Cecil to the salesman that had sold him the car earlier in the day. They had told him about the fifty dollar finder’s fee for any referrals that led to a sale, so Ted was pretty sure he’d have something coming his way. Cecil had seemed bound and determined to get his hands on a Bug.

After the salesman started showing Cecil around the lot, Ted left to go catch up with his girlfriend. Cecil just watched the beige Beetle drive away and then heard the saleman say his name.

“Cecil? How about this beauty?” he said with his hand on a bright red VW.

“No, too flashy,” Cecil said.

“Come on sport. The girls love flashy cars. If I were you, I’d be testing out one of these Karmann Ghias. They’ve got all the same mechanicals as the Beetle, but they are wrapped in this sexy Italian body,” the salesman pitched.

“No, I don’t think my mother would like me to give her a ride in anything sexy. Plus who’s going to be able to sit in that rear seat?”

“Keeps you and your lady friend from giving rides to free loaders. Thinking ahead, weren’t they?”, he said.

“I’ll take that dark blue one,” Cecil said pointing at the Bug in the far corner of the lot.

“That one’s got a couple extras. White walled tires, already been rustproofed, and it’s got the white Hawaii window seals. It will run a few hundred more than this red machine.”

“That’s OK, I’ll take it.”

The salesman was more than happy to unload that car. It had been a special order for a customer in Hawaii, but the guy had never called back after they brought the car through customs. The original buyer had already forfeited his deposit and the sales manager would love to see it sold.

Cecil surprised the salesman with his stack of one hundred dollar bills, but he took them with a smile. It was just an hour or so to get all the paperwork done, then the saleman drove with Cecil over to the nearest gas station to get the car full of gas and check the pressure in all the tires. Once he had driven it, he was just as glad to have gotten a dark blue one and felt that maybe beige wasn’t his color after all.

The guard got up an grabbed the wheelchair from the corner of the room.

“Doris? Hello, Doris?” Suzi said as she squeezed the patient’s hands.

“Hey, hey, is it time for dinner?”, Doris asked, still very disoriented.

“Let’s sit up and slide over to your livery my dear,” Suzi said, as she and Amy helped Doris slide into the wheelchair.

“Oh, look at that!” Doris said with her head bobbing. “It’s a kitty!”

“No, remember it’s a beaver,” Suzi said to Doris. “Who am I kidding, she won’t remember any of this,” she said to Amy and the guard, smiling.

The guard wheeled Doris out of the room and then Amy walked outside to have a smoke break. The next two patients were just some easy drill and fills, so Suzi washed her face to get the majority of the makeup off. There was still a haze of white left, but Suzi thought that made her look even more mysterious.
When Amy came back they took care of an arsonist’s bicuspid and then a molar that was giving a white collar criminal some problems. Suzi wrapped up the day by helping Amy get everything cleaned and then she left instructions for what Amy was to get prepared for the morning.

Suzi, changed out of her black scrubs into some brightly colored yoga pants and a tie-dyed shirt. She stowed her gear into a locker and then walked through the cursory inspection area. After she left the prison grounds, Suzi drove to Kopachuck State Park and walked down to the beach. She sat on the gravelly shore and tried to get into a meditative frame of mind.

She kept getting distracted by all the creatures scurrying around the rocks. When she closed her eyes she could hear the madrona trees swaying in the wind behind her. She could hear the crabs falling over the small rocks on the beach. She could hear the mosquito homing in on her, SMACK, as her hand dealt the insect a death blow against her neck.

“Sorry,” she said to the spirit of the mosquito as it left the beach.

Suzi gave up on the silent meditation and pulled her iPhone out of her purse to check her email. There was something from Marie with a large attachment. “A new song?” she asked herself, and then pressed for the file to download. It took a few minutes since she wasn’t anywhere near an optimal location for data services, but it got into her phone and she dug her earphones out of the bottom of her purse to give it a listen.

The melody was strong and she started to groove on the guitar track just when the words started. For the second month in a row, everything fit together really well. If the three of them kept it up, they might have to actually decide on a name for the band.

She thought about the note that she left for Stefan. She decided to bring it to the bar and see what he did when she handed it to him in person. Since it had only taken about an hour to get the song together, she decided to see if Sheila wanted to tag along for the fun. Marie made her way back down into the basement of the building and knocked on Sheila’s door.

“Who is it?”, she said from inside apartment.

“It’s Marie. I hope you were still awake.”

“Yeah, just a sec,” Sheila said as she unlocked the door and unhooked the chain.

When the door opened, Sheila was standing there in light green, flannel pajamas.

“I can’t remember which one you are. Is it Tinky-Winky or Dipsy?” Marie asked, laughing.

Sheila looked down at her outfit and said, “Oh, I’m pretty sure the green one is Dipsy.”

“I heard Tinky-Winky might be gay,” Marie said.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” They both said at the same time, smiling.

“I finished my project faster than I thought possible, so I’m going to go show it to Gretchen, the bartender at the Six Pound Cleaver. Are you up for that?”

“Sure, I’ve just been reading. Let me throw on some actual clothes,” Sheila said as she turned around to get some duds out of her dresser in the wall. “Just a minute, I’ll be right out,” she said as she went in the bathroom.

Marie nodded and stepped into the small apartment to close the door and keep the heat inside. She looked over at the bed and saw that Sheila had a copy of The Great Gatsby propped open on the pillow. She remembered a few things from the time she had read it in high school, but that was ten years ago and the details were foggy.

“Is this your first time through The Gatsby?”, she asked Sheila through the door.

“No,” came the muffled response.

“I need to read it again,” Marie said, propped against the wall.

Sheila opened the door and reached down to grab her boots. “I heard something on the radio the other day when I was parking my rig and it made me want to read it again,” she said tying up the laces on her red boots.

“Was there some new discovery made about the book or something?”

“No, there was an interview with this guy that has the entire book memorized. He typed it out word for word to appreciate the writing in a more thorough way and ended up commiting the book to memory,” Sheila said, reaching for the book and then putting a bookmark in before she closed it.

“Wow. That does make me want to read it again, just to see if it’s worth it,” Marie said as she opened the front door.

“How far is this bar?”, Sheila asked.

“It’s just around the block. We’re just walking.”

“Sounds good,” Sheila said walking out behind Marie into the hallway.

The two women walked back up through the building talking and laughing. Mrs. Atwater opened her door a crack and stared at them with one eye until Marie stared back and started walking directly towards the door. Mrs. Atwater slammed the door and they heard three deadbolts engage before it became quiet. They just laughed at the old woman and made their way outside.

“Hey, I brought your note along with me. Let me show it to Stefan and see what he says before you walk up to the door,” Marie said, waving the note in front of her.

“You shouldn’t be too hard on the guy. I was just joking around,” Sheila said, stopping.

“He can take it, believe me,” Marie said, pulling on her sleeve.

Marie and Sheila got to the corner of the building where the bar was located and Marie held her hand up so Sheila would stop before they walked where Stefan might be able to see them.

“Wait here until I throw up my hands try to leave. Stefan will grab me and try to explain what’s happening. Then, walk up and say something flirty or snarky,” Marie said to Sheila.

Marie walked around the corner and held the note in her hand, shaking it up and down. Stefan was smoking a cigarette while he sat on his stool, waiting for customers. He looked up and saw Marie, but it looked like something was wrong.

“Hi baby. I thought you were staying in for the night,” he said.

“Don’t ‘hi baby’ me. This was on your windshield,” she said pushing the note into his chest.

Stefan dropped his cigarette and put it out his foot as he grabbed the paper from Marie’s hand. He turned on his flashlight to read the note and then look at Marie, who was doing her best to make steam come out of her ears.

“I don’t know what this means,” Stefan said.

“It looks like you’ve been following some girl around, or you’ve got some parent pissed off at your ‘FREE CANDY’ sign,” she said, grabbing the note back.

“There was a crazy chick that I saw a couple times today, maybe she followed me down here.”

“Crazy chick! That’s the pot calling the kettle black!” Marie said throwing up her arms and turning to leave.

Stefan reached out and grabbed the back of Marie’s jacket and just as she was rearing up to take a swing, Sheila yelled, “Hey Pervert!”

Stefan let loose his grip on Marie and froze.

Marie doubled over laughing when she saw the look on his face.

Sheila kept walking closer and started to wave her finger at Stefan.

He looked at Marie, then Sheila, then Marie and then shuffled backwards to his stool.

“Hey Stefan, this is Sheila, but you said you already met one crazy chick today!” Marie said, still laughing.

“Crazy? Who are you calling crazy?” Sheila said with her hand in a fist, staring right at Stefan.

Marie stopped laughing when she heard Sheila’s tone of voice, then Sheila turned her head and gave Marie a sly wink. Marie straightened up and crossed her arms, just glaring at Stefan.

“Now, hold on a minute. Let’s all just have a chat and see what’s going on,” Stefan said, getting more worried by the second.

“Pfffft,” Marie said, grabbing Sheila by the arm and marching her past Stefan and up to the bar.

Stefan got back to his feet and watched them walk in. He still didn’t really grasp what was just happened. “What?” he said, holding his hands out from his sides.

“Hi Gretchen,” Marie said when the bartender turned around. “This is my new friend Sheila.”

He pulled out of the parking and drove over to the Staples that was sort of on the way to the Six Pound Cleaver. He liked the look of Sheila’s name tag and thought that maybe he could pick one up at the office supply store. Now, he’d just have to come up with a moniker that sounded tough, something that would make you think twice about messing around with the bar bouncer.

“Welcome to Staples. How can I help you?”

“Well, Brandy, I’m looking for a name tag. Just like the one you’re wearing”, Stefan said, pointing at the tag with his chin.

“You’d like a name tag that says ‘Brandy’?”, she asked.

“Oh, no, I was thinking of something a little scarier.”

“Let me show you the colors we have here at the store. We have white and black, red and white, blue and white, and black and yellow. You can special order different color combinations, but I can make these up while you’re waiting.”

“I like the black and yellow.”

“OK, fill out this form with what you want me to engrave on the tag and I’ll come back over in a minute.”

Stefan grabbed the form and checked off the size, one inch by three inches, which was the largest blank they had in the store. Then he chose an Old English font style which he thought looked bad-ass. Now he had to think up a good bouncer name. He started chewing on the pen when he realized that it tasted like sour cream potato chips and tried to spit the sensation out of his mouth.

“Are you all right?”, Brandy asked, walking over when she noticed him having a fit.

“No, I put this pen in my mouth and it tastes funny. I can’t get it off my tongue!”, he said, rubbing his tongue on his front teeth and continuing to spit.

“Oh, that’s my pen. I might have been cleaning my ears with it”, she said with a shrug.

“Eccch!”, he said, wiping his tongue on his bowling shirt.

“You can rinse your mouth out in the bathroom if you want. Sorry”, she said pointing to the restroom.

Stefan looked down the aisle towards the back of the store where the bathrooms were. He started walking that direction and then turned around to glare at Brandy, while he was still rubbing his tongue on his teeth.

“Sorry”, she said with another shrug.

He had left his form on the counter and she turned it around and picked it up. He had checked all the boxes and filled in the name, so she threw the blank into the laser cutter and started the machine. The name tag was finished by the time Stefan had come back from the bathroom. His face was still twitching and his bowling shirt was all wet from using the sink.

“You really need to fix that faucet”, he said holding out the bottom of his shirt.

“I’ve heard that before”, she said, just half smiling.

“Hey, It’s done. That looks nice”, Stefan said as he released the pin and ran it through the silver stripe on his shirt. “What do you think?”

“It’s so you”, Brandy said, raising her eyebrows.

“Does it scare you?”

Brandy blew a breath out between her lips while she contemplated that question. “Scared? I could be scared.”

“That’s what I was going for.”

“Well, it’s on me, no charge. Sorry about the ear wax taste test.”

“Yeah, keep that pen in your pocket. That was not pleasant.”

Brandy just shrugged again, “Sorry.”

Stefan left the name tag on his shirt and got back in the van. He only had five minutes to get down to the bar to start his duties. He drove down 4th Avenue and cut across the railroad yard to get over to Airport Way. He lucked out with a parking spot right in front of Marie’s apartment. He got out of the van and looked up at her apartment. The lights were on.

“MARIE!”, he yelled up at her windows.

Nothing.

He ran the block and a half over to the Six Pound Cleaver and pulled his stool out to the alcove in front of the door. He didn’t notice that Marie was already in the bar playing pool by herself and he just sat down to check IDs when people came up to the bar. After about fifteen minutes Marie looked over and saw him sitting there. She poked her head through the wrought iron gate that blocked off the patio that served as the smoking section.

“Hey cutie”, she said behind his head.

Stefan was startled and hopped off the stool, then turned around. “Hi Marie, have you been there the whole time?”

“No, I’ve been playing billiards with this really hot chick. What’s that?”

“My new name tag”, Stefan said proudly as he pinched it with his right hand.

“Killer Jones? In Wedding Text?”, Marie said, grimacing.

“What? What’s Wedding Text?”, he said, holding it out to look at it.

“That’s the font you used. Where did you get that thing?”

“At Staples. The clerk said it was scary.”

Marie just shook her head and pushed his hand away from the name tag. She unhooked the clasp and took it out of his shirt. “You’re a dork.”

Thanks for the pic!

The Padre ran around to the port side of Shiela’s duck to talk to her, “Head down to the marina and put in over there. We need to get the big tow truck to pull Duck 4 back to the garage. Then drive these people around Ballard, they are all from a group the Swedish Club put together.”

“Will do, sir”, Sheila replied.

She turned around watch the passengers climb up into their seats. They sure looked like a bunch of Swedes, lots of gray hair and bright blue eyes.

“Is anyone ready for some Lutefisk?”, she asked through the loudspeakers.

There was a subdued cheer from the old folks.

“How about some coffee and gingerbread?”

This seemed a bit more popular with the group so she planned to see if they wanted to stop at the Swedish Bakery on Market Street in Ballard. Sheila backed the Duck out of the parking lot and headed for the marina. The rest of the journey went on without a hitch, and fun, coffee and pastries were had by all.

“Thanks for coming. Bye. Thanks. You’re welcome. No problem. Those were good cookies. Buh-bye. Bye now. Thanks. And, thank you sir”, Sheila said as the elderly disembarked.

Sheila pulled the Duck around the back of the office and hopped out to see if The Padre was back. The office door was open, but there wasn’t anyone inside. The computer was still there, and the TV and the radio. She went over to radio.

“Base Monkey to Ducks”, she said.

“Duck 1 here, rounding the corner”, The Padre said as his SUV careened into the parking lot, then he jumped out and trotted over to the office.

“Duck 3 to Base Monkey”, the radio squawked as Sheila was hustling out from behind The Padre’s desk.

The Padre walked over and hit the radio bar, “Just park that thing Jimmy.”
“Will do, over and out”

“So the swedes are all hopped up on caffiene and powdered sugar, roaming Seattle Center, I’m sure”, Sheila said to The Padre.

“Here’s fifty bucks for the extra trip”, he said, handing her the bill.

“Wow, cool. Call me anytime mister”, she said stuffing the fifty into her pocket.

“OK Anytime, Can you fill up your rig with fuel on the way to the garage?”
“It’s gonna take more than fifty bucks to fill up that monster!”, Sheila joked. They all had cards for the fleet fueling station down in SODO, a couple blocks from the garage.

“Funny girl. That’s why we keep you around here.”

The Padre started shuffling things around on his desk, so Sheila went into the break room to see if any of the other drivers had any new jokes on the board. There wasn’t anything new on the map or the message board, so he took a blue pin and put it on the intersection of 12th and 42nd. Then she grabbed a blue marker and wrote, “Amber Alert” on the white board. She’d let the other drivers try to figure that one out for themselves.

Sheila gassed up the Duck and tucked it into bed in the massive garage that held eight of these behemoths when they weren’t driving or floating around. Someone had already taken the nose of Duck 4 apart in an attempt to diagnose the illness. Her Duck was the last one in for the evening so she made sure to turn off all the lights and check the alarm. Her apartment was only a mile south in Georgetown so she always rode her bike to work.

As she was out in front of the garage putting on her helmet she saw a beat up old van sputtering its way up the street. When she saw the words “FREE CANDY” on the side, she waved and give the driver a big thumbs up. Stefan saw her waving and he waved back.

“Hmmph”, he hmmphed to himself as he watched the girl disappear in the rear view mirror. He wasn’t used to such a rousing endorsement for his ride.

So, here’s something from today’s effort….

“That’s just crazy”, Marie said to Stefan.

“I know. He shall be a constant reminder to me that I need to get a nicer place to live”, Stefan said looking to see if his beer was on its way. Gretchen brought their drinks and went back to her bar without saying anything.

“You can always come and shack up with me”, Marie said, smiling.

Even though Marie’s apartment had several advantages over Stefan’s, it was only a little bit bigger than his apartment in the U-District and he wasn’t sure that the two of them could cohabitate in such a small space.

“You say that now, but you’d get tired of me hanging out there all the time”, Stefan said, taking a swig of his Rainier.

“I’m only there when I sleep, and it’s so cold when I’m all by lonesome.”

“This is true. But, you have no parking. Where would I put the van?”, Stefan said, pointing his thumb in the direction of The Kidnapper Van.

“Rent a parking space somewhere. If we split my rent and you pay a hundred bucks to park that thing, you’ll still be ahead”, Marie said, convinced that this plan would work, but she knew that she would need to keep up the pressure on Stefan if she really wanted him to move in.

“But you don’t have a TV!”

“I don’t have a TV because I don’t hang out at home. I watch it here, or at the cafe.”

“I’m not ready to give up my apartment yet. I’ve been doing pretty well as far as money goes.”

As far as reality went, Stefan was just a little disconnected. As long as he saw some cash going into his wallet, he figured he was doing good. The fact that the balance on his savings account kept diminishing was something he would about some time in the future. Marie could never figure out if Stefan was keeping up with his lifestyle, as unextravagant as it was, but she wasn’t in any position to give out financial advice either.

“Well, I’m willing to give a try whenever you are. I sure hope you’re staying over tonight.”

“I am yours for the evening, my lady. I will entertain you as you desire.”

“Can we go drive the van around the parking lot at Southcenter and scare the white folks?”, Marie asked, clapping her hands together.

“Sure, but I better not keep drinking this beer. I don’t want to run afoul of the law.”, Stefan said, pushing his beer away.

Stefan pulled out a five dollar bill and put it under his beer bottle. He stood up and offered to pull Marie’s chair out for her, but she just punched him in the gut and laughed. The two of them walked across the street and drove off in the van, setting out to terrorize some young mothers at the mall.

***

Seattle is city practically surrounded by water, with Puget Sound to the west and Lake Washington to the east. The Ship Canal and Lake Union bisect the city with water. It’s only natural with this abundance of water that there would be ducks. Actually they are DUKW’s, but just Ducks for short. A DUKW is an amphibious landing craft from that was used in World War II and the Korean War to ferry supplies and troops. It looks like a big open boat with truck tires sticking out of the hull, with a propellor hanging off the back. Now they just carried tourists on tours around the city, hoping to get them whipped into a frenzy.

During the summer, it’s not unusual to get surrounded by these vehicles if you happen to be driving Downtown, or near the stadiums, or around Lake Union. The drivers do the usual jokes and noise making to entertain the tourists that are eager for this type of thrill. Since these old beasts of war are fairly large vehicles to manuever, most of the drivers are men, but there were a couple of women determined enough to tame a duck. Sheila Jackson was just this type of woman.

Sheila had lived in Seattle all of her life and was always ready to show someone around. Even though she had seen it at least thirty thousand times in her twenty nine years, she always smiled when the Space Needle came into view. Her job driving a DUKW around the city during the summer was a perfect complement to her family’s real business, catching crabs in Alaska. She would head to the frigid waters of Bristol Bay for a few weeks in the fall and winter and make enough money to pay the rent for the rest of the year, so the driving gig was gravy and a whole lot of fun. Sheila was always on the lookout for new jokes for the DUKW rides and she wasn’t scare to drive down a few side streets to get a laugh.

One of the best parts of the ride for the tourists was when the DUKW would enter Lake Union. There are several streets that end in ersatz boat ramps around the lake and the drivers were able to pick and choose the ones they wanted to use. Sheila liked to take the big amphibious vehicle through the University District so the patrons could get a look at the local wildlife.

“Please remember to keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle. We wouldn’t want anyone to lose a limb here on University Way. The panhandlers can get very aggressive”, Sheila shouted through the loudspeakers on her duck.

She had spotted a funny van the other day near her apartment in Georgetown, and today she saw it parked down 12th Ave, so she turned down the narrow street and slowed the duck to a crawl.

“Mothers, please hold tight to your children. We’ve already seen the Troll, but we are now passing an even more sinister monster. Don’t let your girls and boys be tempted by The Kidnapper Van!”

Most of the passengers laughed at the words “FREE CANDY” scrawled on the side of the windowless van, but there was bound to be someone who would complain about the joke. The guys that ran the ducks didn’t really care, they encouraged their drivers to be a little edgy. Sheila thought that she might even put a pin on the map in the office for this joke.

An excerpt from the day’s scribblings:

“Hello?”

“Hey cowboy, it’s Marie.”

“Hi there, whatcha doin?”

“I just got back from a run, so I’m sweating. What are you doing?”

“I’m reading a book about Ted Bundy, trying not to worry about the weirdo that lent it to me.”

Stefan and Marie were both 26 years old, and trying their best to remain financially afloat without getting tied down to a “real” job. Marie worked at several different coffee houses around town, filling in whenever a regular barista got sick. She could always rely on an infusion of cash from her mother who lived across the country and still felt guilty for leaving Marie home alone for the majority of her childhood. Marie also had a fairly new Subaru wagon and a regularly updated laptop thanks to Mom.

Stefan knew a lot of people who needed things done from time to time and were willing to pay cash for it. If you needed some windows washed, he was there. Did your band have a paying gig where you needed to impress some A&R types? Stefan was your sound man. His most regular gig was working the door at a dive bar in Georgetown, a grungy little part of Seattle, south of Downtown.

“Do you want to go hang out at the Cleaver?”, Marie asked, hopefully.

The Six Pound Cleaver was that dive bar. It was Marie’s favorite watering hole, not only because Stefan was there three nights of the week, but it was only one hundred and sixty three steps from her apartment in Georgetown.

“The Cleaver. Let’s see, I have to work there tomorrow and Saturday, so OK”, Stefan said putting the book down on the coffee table. “I’m sure you’ll be there before I will.”

“You are correct, sir. Au revoir”, Marie said as she hung up.

Stefan got his coat on and pushed some things around the kitchen counter to find his keys. He briefly forgot which vehicle he was driving this month, and then remembered; The Kidnapper Van. Since he wasn’t tied down to a nine to five desk job, Stefan was free to follow his muse in an attempt to garner fame and fortune. His most recent project involved a website about keeping children safe from strangers who might just be driving a windowless, maroon, Chevy van.

The website, http://bit.ly/3aX8yb , had a few pictures and tips for people to peruse, but Stefan was really trying to sell his services as a deterrent to child abduction. For forty bucks, cash, he would drive up to your kid’s party and scare the pants off of them so as to make them deathly afraid of anyone they had not spent at least half their life with. He got this idea from some parents at the mall who seemed to try to shield their children from him when he walked by. He had already done three birthday parties since he put the website up, so he had earned one hundred and twenty bucks. A raging success as far as Stefan was concerned.

Stefan had purchased the van from one of the car dealers up on Lake City Way in North Seattle. The pickup truck that he had driven all summer had spun a ring bearing and he knew it was going to die an imminent, painful death. He drove the pickup to the gates of the last junkyard in North Seattle and asked the guys for fifty bucks.

“You want me to give you fifty bucks?”, the junkman said.

“Sure, look at these tires. This canopy is practically middle aged. I’ll even leave the tape deck in it”, Stefan said with a flourish.

“Thirty, if you have the title.”

“I do have it, and it is yours for thirty dollars”, Stefan said, brandishing the title, already signed.

Stefan walked to the nearest arterial and caught the crosstown bus. He knew he could find something else to drive over on Lake City Way since there were at least forty car dealers on that strip. The bus drove past Northgate Mall and dropped down onto Lake City Way mere blocks from Auto Row. He stayed on the bus until it got to 123rd and hopped off to grab something to eat at Dick’s Drive In. Dick’s was a Seattle institution, serving burgers, fries and shakes the old fashioned way, hot, greasy and creamy.

So, left with twenty four dollars from the remains of his pickup truck, Stefan went on his hunt for a new chariot. When he saw The Kidnapper Van, he knew that he must have it. It wasn’t on display, seeing as it was parked behind the auto dealership, but it was the only thing Stefan could see over the sea of shiny new Kias and Hyundais. Even though he was dressed in dirty jeans and an old VW shop jacket, the salesmen still worked themselves into a lather, seeing an actual human walking onto the lot.

“Hey guy, I’m Jason”, the salesman said, extending his hand.

“Hey”, Stefan replied, keeping his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He still had some chocolate shake and mustard on his fingers and didn’t want to gross the salesman out. “I want that van.”

“Where, do we have a van?”

“It’s in the back, behind the fence.”

“Oh, that van”, Jason said rolling his eyes.

“I have, let’s see, twenty four dollars in cash”, Stefan said with a smile.

“Heh. How about three hundred?”

“Do you take Visa?”

“We do. Let me make sure it’s running”, Jason said as he trotted off to find the used car buyer.

After they swapped a battery from another junker behind the building, the mechanics got the van to roar to life. Someone had traded the van in on a new subcompact the last time they ran the “Push, Pull or Drag your Trade In” promotion and it was only days away from the crusher. Stefan had saved another classic American car, and he felt good about it.

As he drove down the street from the U-District to Georgetown, he got the usual dirty looks. He was used to them, and he should be, it was his own fault. When he started The Kidnapper Van service he scrawled “FREE CANDY” on the side of the van with a flourescent, permanent marker. Every mom in a clean station wagon sped past giving him the evil eye, and every stoner in an old piece of shit car gave him the thumbs up. He saw Marie give him the thumbs up as he parked across the street from the Six Pound Cleaver. It made him feel warm inside.

OK! Go John! I’m going to try to type through the month again with all the other wrimos. Here an excerpt from tonight’s work:

Stefan decided to make some dinner while he waited for the washing machine to do its duty. His apartment wasn’t much more than a large closet, only 295 square feet of luxurious subterranean living in the heart of the University District in Seattle, but it was cheap. His galley kitchen was along the wall where the door of the apartment let out into the hallway and he heard someone tap on the door while he was cleaning up his dinner plate. He looked out of the peephole to see Mr. Christofferson standing in the hallway.

“Hey, hi”, said Stefan after he opened the door.

“Mr. Munchausen, your washing machine has completed its cycle.”

“Oh, thanks, I’ll go get them in the dryer.”

“Your prompt attention to your laundry will be appreciated by your neighbors”, Mr. Christofferson said as he turned and walked down the hallway to the stairwell.

“Thank you, I’ll remember that”, Stefan said as he closed the door.

Stefan had to scrounge around for two more quarters to put in the dryer, then he put his shoes back on and trotted back to the laundry room. As he pushed the door open, the automatic lights turned on and he was startled when he saw that Mr. Christofferson had returned to his seat on the counter and was apparently meditating in the dark of the laundry room. The older man was still observing the wall but his finger was pointed up at a sign above his shoulder which read, “Your prompt attention to your laundry will be appreciated by your neighbors.”

“Got it”, said Stefan as he opened one of the dryers to make sure it was empty before he grabbed his wet clothes from the washer. “I appreciate you telling me that my clothes were ready for the dryer, Mr. Christofferson.”

“No problem. Are you familiar with the author, Ann Rule?”

“She’s a true crime writer, right?”

“Yes, that is correct. She interviewed me once. She interviewed me a long time ago.”

“Oh, I heard something from the apartment manager about that”, Stefan said as he transferred his clothes into the dryer.

“He lies. He is a liar. You should not trust John the manager”, Mr. Christofferson said with a glare.

“OK. He just said that you lived here when Ted Bundy lived next door.”
“I did.”

“That’s all I heard. Nothing else”, Stefan said as he turned around, trying not to chuckle.

“Someone died in the building.”

“When? Did Ted Bundy kill someone here?”, Stefan asked, getting a little creeped out.

“Mr. Franklin died in the building, on the first day that John the manager was here.”

“So, you think the manager had something to do with it?”

“John became the manager after the previous manager left in disgrace.”, Mr. Christofferson said with his eyes closed, shaking his head.

“So, John killed Mr. Franklin?”

“Mr. Franklin drowned himself in his bathtub. John denies the facts of his death to anyone who wants to rent unit 206. He is a liar.”, Mr. Christofferson said, with his fists tightened, and his head still shaking.

“Oh, OK, you were getting me a little worried there Mr. Christofferson. You know, I live in the apartment next to John the manager and I didn’t want to get tangled up in any crazy stuff.”

“Mr. Franklin was the only other person besides myself that had lived here since the building opened. We both knew things. Things that will be lost when I am gone.”

“Like the trick with the washing machine?”

“Exactly”, said Mr. Christofferson, opening his eyes and relaxing his hands.
“It’s a good thing that you’re still here then. You already saved me a dollar!”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Munchausen.”

Stefan put six quarters in the dryer and started the machine. He looked up at the clock to make sure he was back here to get his clothes out when they were finished so Mr Christofferson wouldn’t have to remind him.

“Have you read the book that Ann Rule wrote about Ted Bundy?”, Mr. Christofferson asked Stefan as he was turning to leave.

“No I haven’t. I’ll have to see if it’s at the library and check it out. See you later Mr. Christofferson”, Stefan said, leaving the laundry room.

As Stefan walked down the hallway, he just wanted to forget the whole evening. He had figured that anyone that lived in a tiny apartment in the U-District for almost forty years would have to be a little whacked, but this guy was getting pretty high on the creepy scale.

If I hear a new artist on Pandora, can I claim them for myself?

But, now that I think about the last ‘band’ I discovered on Pandora and how that ended it tears, do I want to keep sailing on to new unheard lands?

The farmer looked back at the freshly harvested corn field trying to find his dog. The old golden retriever had a bad habit of following the combine while Daniel Shepherd drove through the rows of tall field corn, and there had been many close call in the past. Daniel whistled for Jack, but the dog wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Jack the golden retriever was panting on the porch, patiently waiting for his master to return.

Daniel noticed something strange up in the hopper. There was some kind of liquid dripping from the chute where the corn was blown up after being cut and shucked. He just shook his head and started climbing up the large machine.

Jack had learned a few good tricks over the years and he had just performed Daniel’s favorite one, fetching a cold Budweiser from the refrigerator in the basement.

As Daniel got up to the lip of the machine’s hopper he saw that the liquid was red. Peering over the edge, he steeled himself for what he expected would be a gruesome sight.

Jack kept panting on the porch, eyeing the beer as drops of condensation formed on the cold can.

“Damn it, Jack!”, yelled the farmer looking at the red splotch that had formed on the mound of corn kernels. He began to cry as he jumped down off the machine

Daniel Shepherd was still crying as he walked up to the lonely clapboard farmhouse that he shared with his old friend. He didn’t think he could be so emotional over that old dog and he kept looking around, just hoping the dog had only lost a tail or even a leg in the combine.

When he got to the stairs he saw a beer sweating on the porch, Jack’s last hurrah, and he dropped to his knees weeping.

Jack heard his master on the porch and bounded out of the house and nearly knocked Daniel over as he licked the salty tears from Daniel’s face. The two of them shared a long tussle and then Daniel grabbed the beer and cracked it open as Jack laid his head down on Daniel’s lap. They sat on the grass and watched the sun set over the fields. Just when the sky started turning bright red, Daniel put his hand on Jack’s head and yelled over his shoulder, “Darlene! Come out and see this sunset, it’s beautiful.” He turned around to see if she was on the porch, but she wasn’t there. “Darlene?”