TWINS OF THE DAMNED

A few days ago, I had to deliver a brand new car to a man in Wichita, Kansas. I had called ahead, and the man (a Mr. Bowling) had asked that I be there on Saturday instead of Friday. That was a bit of an inconvenience for me, but I do my best to meet the needs of my customers. So it was all arranged, and I had reserved a rental car to get to my next pickup in Kansas City.

As I was driving to the delivery, Mr. Bowling called and said that he was running late. He had to rush out and pick up a cake for his boys' birthday party, and he asked if I would wait until he got back. I told him that his wife could sign for it, but he preferred to see it himself before signing off on it.

I pulled into the driveway, and Mrs. Bowling came out to greet me. "You must be Bill, welcome. We are all in a frenzy here, I have 30 ten year olds in the backyard, and its utterly chaotic."

"I completely understand, don't you worry a bit. I'll be fine waiting right here."

Jim and Jack, identical twin boys, marched up together in lockstep with a sort of mechanical gait. I had never seen such solemn children in my life. They had a faraway look in their eyes, and it sort of reminded me of the children in the horror movie VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED.

Mrs. Bowling cooed, "Here's my lively little birthday boys. So full of life and mischief, I can hardly contain them. Boys, say hello to Mr. Bill."

"Hello--" said Jim.

"-- Mr. Bill," finished Jack. These two little blonde-headed boys even finished each other's sentences, which I'd normally find interesting and cute. But they both spoke in a monotone, with a touch of dread in their voices.

"Boys, you take care of Mr. Bill for me. I'm gonna go make him a plate. Don't get too crazy now."

"No, Mother," said Jack.

"We won't," said Jim.

Mrs. Bowling walked away. Both boys turned to focus on me, and their intense stares made me feel like they were trying with all their might to look into my brain.

"We love parties," said Jim.

"We really do," said Jack.

"What do you like?" asked Jim.

"Well, uh... I really do love movies."

"Movies are evil," said Jim.

"They repress the soul," stated Jack.

"We're all doomed," added Jim.

"The end is near," said Jack emphatically.

I smiled. "You mean the end of the party?"

"No goofball, the end of the world," said Jim with a scolding tone.

"I see..." I replied with some hesitancy.

Jack reared his head back. "We live in dark times."

Jim shook his head. "All hope is gone. All hope."

"Gee, I hope not," I said with a chuckle.

"It's true," said Jim.

"It's sad," said Jack.

"Very, very sad," added Jim.

"What is there to live for?" asked Jack.

Suddenly, a very fat hyperactive boy came running up. "Hey you guys!"

"Hello, Jeremy," said Jack.

"Go away, Jeremy," said Jim.

"Hey guys, when do we eat cake?"

"Are you serious?" asked Jim.

"There are millions of children starving across the world," Jack informed us.

"And you want cake?" queried Jim.

Jeremy giggled. "Yep, can I have an extra big slice?"

"Go away," said Jack.

"Far away," said Jim.

I leaned over to Jeremy. "Their Dad is out picking up the cake right now, he'll
be back with it real soon." So Jeremy shrugged and took off.

Jack and Jim began to study me as if I was a lab experiment. "You lied," Jim accused.

"You lied to Jeremy," Jack chimed in.

Jim was perplexed. "Why did you lie to Jeremy?"

"As far as I know, I didn't," I explained. "What was the lie?"

"The cake is already here," Jack sadly told me.

"Father is out drinking again, probably making time with some
woman of ill repute," said Jim.

Mrs. Bowling came back carrying a plate for me loaded with all kinds of goodies. "How are my sweet birthday boys doing?"

Jack let out a long sigh. "Fine, Mother."

Jim nodded. "Fine, I guess."

She beamed. "Did you tell Mr. Bill what you want for your birthday presents?"

"What's the point?" asked Jim.

"We're all going to die," said Jack with a hint of true sadness.

Mrs. Bowling didn't seem to notice the twins dour demeanor. "Did you tell Mr. Bill how old you are today?"

"Ten," said Jim.

"We'll never live to see twenty," Jack said as he glared at me.

"Aren't they adorable?" she gushed. "I have to go back to the party, my husband
should be here very soon. Boys, you want to come back and see your friends?"

"We'll stay here," said Jack.

"We'll stay with Mr. Bill," said Jim. Normally, I would have been flattered, but these kids were kind of creeping me out.

"We have a question," Jack told me.

"Have you ever seen a naked lady with no clothes on?" Jim asked.

A Lincoln Navigator came roaring into the driveway, and came so fast I didn't know if it would stop in time to avoid hitting us. Thank God it did, and Mr. Bowling stumbled out of the car. He was carrying a couple of cartons of ice cream, and the ice cream was melting and dripping all over the place.

Jim and Jack turned and faced me with serious determination. "There's a question on the table," Jim said.

"Answer quickly before Father interrupts, Mr. Bill."

"Hello there!" shouted Mr. Bowling.

I spoke softly to the kids. "That's really the sort of question you should save
for your Dad."

"He won't tell us." Jim looked down at his feet.

"Thanks for the help, loser." Jack led Jim away, and Mr. Bowling stepped up to me.

"Hey, you made it with my car." He was obviously drunk, but I don't make judgements. I just wanted him to sign the paperwork and be on my way. I noticed that he had lipstick all over his face and shirt collar. I debated whether to say something, but then realized that I am a driving fool and just need to keep on rolling. Don't get involved.

As he signed the papers, Mr. Bowling said, "Let me ask you something. When I was walking up, were the boys asking you about naked women?"

I managed to sincerely look genuinely puzzled. "I don't think so."

"Huh. That's what they usually ask all strangers about. I might as well just give in and get them both a subscription to Playboy. Hey sorry, I gotta get this cake inside, I think its melting."

So he carried the melting ice cream into the house. And I picked up my bag and started the long walk to the rental car agency. On to the next adventure.

HELLO 2011

On the final day of 2010, I found myself racing towards my friend Lisa’s home in North Carolina. She had called me just minutes after I had rented a car that I was going to use to drive from Atlanta to Savannah, where a car awaited pickup. But when I heard Lisa’s voice on the phone pleading with me to come there, all bets were off. If a friend needs me, really needs me, then I’m always going to be there.

I didn’t know what was wrong, but I knew it had to be important. She said she couldn’t go into detail, but she was in some trouble and needed my help. So I called the man I was to pick up from in Savannah and delayed it until January 2. Frankly, I think he was relieved not to have to deal with me on a holiday.

I tried several times to call Lisa, but could not get back in touch. This concerned me greatly. I drove a bit faster than I normally would, wondering what I could be walking into. Didn’t matter much, because all I know is I love my friend Lisa. And after the lesson I learned for Christmas this year, I’ve been thinking how good friends are the most important thing that a guy can have.

I arrived at Lisa’s house just after 8pm. There were several unfamiliar cars parked outside, and I immediately hoped that no one had died. I walked to the front door, and Lisa opened it before I could knock. She did not look upset, but in fact was beaming with joy. I was baffled to say the least.

“It’s my Bill,” she said.

“Well yeah, you said you needed me and here I am.”

“I needed you because some people were looking for you.”

I stepped into the house. “Looking for me? Who? What people are you talking about?” And that is when I saw Karen walk up behind Lisa. “Karen?”

Karen grinned and giggled. “I came to say Happy New Year.” She hugged me and gave me a passionate kiss.

Then a group of folks began to walk in, and I was equally confused and amazed by who I saw. Steve and Justin, my two best friends from High School. Pastor Rex from Florida. Jenny from the ranch full of dogs down in Texas. Tim Harrigan, an old and very close friend from California.

I felt a pair of hands from behind grab hold of my butt and squeeze mightily. “Hey there sailor, looking for a good time?” I didn’t have to look to know that it was JC. She turned me around and gave me a big hug.

“What are you doing here?” I asked her.

“Hey, I was invited, I’m an official guest. Nobody’s throwing me out.”

“Steve, Justin, how did you guys get here?”

Justin smiled. “First, our mother’s gave birth to us, and then—“

“Ha ha, no seriously,” I said.

Steve put his arm around Justin’s shoulder. “We flew to North Carolina separately, then rented a car together.”

Justin stepped up to shake my hand. “Hadn’t seen you in a while.”

Steve butted in and gave me a bear hug. “I’ve seen you more recently, but I couldn’t resist the chance to see you again. There’s always fun buzzing around you.”

Tim jumped in front of me and recited loudly, “Only nerds and astronauts stop for yellow lights…”

I completed his thought. “… but only fools run red ones, and only they’re the dead ones.”

Justin laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I explained. “Just a silly little phrase I made up one night when I was in college, driving the pharmacy delivery car for Tim’s Dad’s drugstore.”

Pastor Rex bowed his head and said, "God bless you, my brother. Where's the egg nog?"

Jenny sauntered over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Hey there, Bill-doggie. I heard you needed some loving friendship for the holidays."

"Jenny, where is Tom?"

"Long story, I'll tell you later in private."

JC grabbed my stomach and squeezed the skin. “You’ve been putting on some pounds, boy. Time to come to JC’s Boot camp, I will whip you into shape fast. Long hikes, no fast food, no late night snack attacks. Oh, and sex, lots and lots of sex, can’t forget that.”

Karen came up and leaned close to me. “So at least you’re finally getting some.”

I shook my head sadly. “I only wish.”

The bathroom door opened, and I heard the sound of a toilet flushing. Out walked Frank from Birmingham. “Wow,” I said, “Is everyone I know here? Lisa, how did you contact all my friends?”

“There’s this wonderful new thing called Facebook, and I knew who among your friends you are closest to. You’ve seemed a little discouraged lately, and I thought you could use some love.”

“How did you know I was discouraged?”

“I read all your Blogs. We talk on the phone. Besides, I know everything about you, you’re my Bill.”

"So you tricked me to get me to come?"

Lisa grinned and nodded. "I sure did."

Frank stepped up and reached out to shake my hand. I looked at him skeptically and asked, “Did you wash your hands when you finished in the bathroom?”

“You can take my word on it.” Frank smiled and we shook, then embraced briefly in a manly way.

I felt sort of light-headed. “I can’t believe that so many of my closest friends all came here. I feel like I’m having a IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE moment. Will someone please pinch me so I know this isn’t a dream?”

JC promptly responded by goosing me, and I jumped with a start. “You awake now?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” I grabbed a glass and lifted it to make a toast. “Here’s to the best friends that any guy ever had. You’ve all taken me into your home numerous times, and you’ve made me feel loved and special. May the coming year be a blessing to all of us. And God bless each and every one of you.”

The party went on until 4am, and it was wonderful. I had the chance to talk at great length to each one of my friends and catch up. At one point, I told Pastor Rex that I was going to have to write a Blog entry about this, and he asked me "Why? What's the point? Your Blogs are always funny, I don't see what's funny here." Well, I guess the point is that I want others to remember what I learned: no matter how down or discouraged you are, if you have friends who truly love you, everything will turn out OK. These people came from all over America to come and see me. That says a whole lot. I have a lot of very good friends.

A MARY CHRISTMAS

I hope you had a very nice Christmas. I was feeling a bit discouraged myself, and on Christmas Eve I found myself in Shreveport trying to figure out where to go, what to do. Since my Mom and brother died, I always feel sort of alone during the holidays. I know that its supposed to be a time of good cheer, but the past few years I've been subject to the blues.

After I delivered a car, I walked a few blocks to the city bus and waited on a bench. I thought perhaps I'd go catch a train and head to Dallas. There was an elderly lady sitting next to me on the bench who appeared to be poor and homeless. She began to talk to me, and I immediately thought this was another one of Bill's people. But as I listened, I realized that she was something else altogether.

Her name was Mary, and my mind drifted to another Mary I had met not too long ago. Only that Mary was accusing her car of stealing from her. This woman had some heart-wrenching stories to tell that really touched my heart. She had been through hell, and now was abandoned by all those she used to know and love. The tales of her life painted a vivid picture of a woman who had faced huge obstacles bravely and courageously. I was mightily impressed, and wanted to hear more. And she was happy to oblige.

The more I listened, the more I considered how my own troubles were tiny and pathetic compared to her life. And I thought about people all over the world who go without, and who many never know the joys of Christmas. The mistletoe, the Christmas tree, singing carols, giving gifts to those you love, Santa Claus, the baby Jesus. All of the things that used to make me an excited little boy each and every Christmas of my childhood. I had been so caught up with my own trivial problems that I forgot just how good I have it.

I offered to buy Mary a Christmas dinner at a nearby Diner, but she declined. She was a proud woman and said she could not accept any kind of charity. Before I left her, I was able to distract her long enough to slip a 20 dollar bill into her coat pocket. I knew she would find it later when she stuck her hands into her pocket, and I sincerely hoped that it might help her out just a little bit. Giving to others is what its all about.

EXPATRIATE BANJO PLAYER

Two days ago, I was on my way to see my friend Lisa. I planned to see her and stay for the night, and was in need of that special loving care she always gives to me in abundance. I'd have to deliver a car by noon the next day in Charleston, S.C.

When the cell phone rang and I could see it was Riff, I let out a long sigh of frustration. Somehow I just knew it would be bad news. "Hello, Riff."

"I have a special assignment for you. Go to Lewisburg and pick up my friend Jack Grindle and take him to Wheeling, West Virgina. Where are you now?"

"Waynesboro, Virginia."

"Perfect, you're not far at all. Just hop on Interstate 64 and head straight to Lewisburg."

"We're not supposed to take passengers, right?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me. This is a personal friend of mine, you will do this. Clear?"

"It is way out of my way, I'm headed to Charleston."

"Suck it up, cupcake. You work for me and you do as I say." Riff went on to give me the address and I jotted it down. Then I hung up and made the sad call to Lisa. She was understanding.

"I can't say I'm not disappointed," she told me. "But I do understand, its your job."

"You just don't know how much I wanted to see you. I've been feeling a little discouraged lately, and the holidays are hard. My Mom and brother are both gone, I don't feel like I have anyone."

"Cut that crap, you've got me and a lot of other people who love you."

We talked a little bit longer, and then I lost cell phone service. I found the small town of Lewisburg and drove to the address Riff had given me. An older, wiry gentleman came over to my car, half-striding, half-hopping. He opened the door and jumped in. "Hi, I'm Jack, you must be Bill." Then he held his fingers up very near my nose, presumably for me to examine. "See these callouses? That comes from 50 years of banjo strumming."

I pulled back onto the highway and continued down the road. I didn't feel much like talking, but that did not matter to Jack. "I guess you know that I'm an expatriate. You might call me an expat banjo player. And then again, you might not, your choice."

"We're headed for Wheeling, correct?"

"Unless you'd rather drive me to Hawaii!" He began to laugh with gusto, then stopped suddenly and said, "Of course I'm only joking. But in all seriousness, I have lived half my life in Greece. Met a beautiful woman there and married her. She loves me with all of her heart, and man, that woman can make love!"

"Good to know."

"They love my banjo in Greece. And I love to grease the banjo. Just kidding. Now Steve Martin, he can play the banjo. I mean, movie star, comedian, best selling author, and banjo player. I want his life. But seriously, I'm very pleased with my own life. If you take my meaning."

"I do."

"Good. Do you know the history of banjo? I'm not going to bore you with some long story, suffice it to say that banjos have entertained many people over the years. Ever see that movie DELIVERANCE? There is a hillbilly boy at the beginning of the movie that plays a banjo like nobody's business. He looks like a very cool customer, a shrewd one if there ever was one. There's a lot going on behind those eyes, and it left me wanting to know more. But instead, the story took a turn towards backwoods male rape and such. You follow?"

"Uh, yeah, I've seen the movie."

"Sure you have, of course you have. Did I mention that I lived in Greece? My wife is still there, and I miss her something awful. I play the banjo for her each night, although she's not here to hear it. I'm just in America thinking how much I miss Greece. And sharing my place with a Catholic fella who is addicted to porn. I mean every time I pass his bedroom, he's doing things to himself that I'd rather not repeat. You know what I mean?"

"I've got the picture."

"No, I don't think you do. This guy has a special way of--"

I interrupted quickly. "Let me stop you right there to say I know as much as I need to know."

Jack eyed me warily, then clicked his tongue on his dentures. "Well, suffice it to say that he's hard to live with. I mean, he's a Catholic, for God's sake. I keep telling him he should be fondling his Rosary beads instead of his johnson all the time."

"Gotcha."

Jack was still taking stock of me. "You don't like banjo music, do ya?"

"I love banjo music."

"Prove it!"

"Prove it? How would I do that?"

"Tell me the name of a banjo player."

"One of my closest friends in the world, Frank Wilson in Birmingham. He can play with the best of them."

"Well I have never heard of him, and so you are obviously making up a story. I do believe that I've lost all respect for you, and I'd like to make the rest of this trip in silence. Please don't engage me further in conversation. I'm just a quiet and pensive expat, and would like to be left alone." With that, Jack curled up in his seat with his back to me. Fine by me. I put on some George Strait music and just enjoyed the rest of my drive.

It was a long way to Wheeling, and even longer back to Charleston. But I kept on moving so I wouldn't think of my loneliness during the holiday season. Christmas is almost here.

A NICE QUIET MATINEE

A few months ago, I was just outside of Phoenix waiting to get a car. I decided to kill the time by going to an early movie matinee at a nearby theater. I love the experience of going to a new theater in a new town where I've never been before. I refer to it as a virgin theater experience.

This was an older theater, and as I arrived before it officially opened for the day, I got a chance to speak to a staff member as he was setting up the Concession stand. Turns out that this was once a big old movie palace, but had been split into four smaller auditoriums to compete as a multiplex. They were playing NEVER LET ME GO, an indie film that I had been anxious to see. A quiet, nice, gentle little movie.

The staff member, a jolly fellow named Jerry, explained that it was usually slow enough for the first show that the box office out front was closed. Tickets would be sold in the lobby at the far end of the Concession stand. So I stood there to be first in line, and by the time they were ready to open 20 people had lined up behind me. Jerry was now setting up a cash drawer so he could begin to sell tickets, and suddenly there was a commotion coming from the entrance door to the lobby.

"Come on! Let's go, hurry up!" came the screeching and overly loud voice of an elderly woman. I turned and saw her, as she marched forward followed by her much older-looking husband who was dependent on a cane to stand up.

Jerry smiled at me and said, "OK, all set. What movie are you seeing?"

"One for NEVER LET ME GO, please."

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" It was the elderly woman, who had walked right up beside me and slapped her hand on the counter. "Is this where I buy the tickets, please? We want two."

"Ma'am, you'll have to wait in line," Jerry patiently explained.

"What?" she shrieked.

"What's he saying?" her husband asked.

"Hush, Herbert. Young man, we are senior citizens, we don't wait in line. Now, do you have any of those headsets for those who are hard of hearing?"

"No ma'am, we don't have those at this theater."

"Oh, that's a shame, a terrible shame."

"What's that? What did he say, Louella?" asked Herbert.

"Never mind, Herbert!" It seemed like each time Louella spoke to Herbert, her already loud voice got much louder.

"Did you ask about the headsets?" Herbert wanted to know.

"They don't have them," replied Louella. "I'll just have to explain what's going on to you throughout the movie. No problem."

I got my ticket and started away. Louella grabbed me by the arm. "Excuse me, young man, I need to ask you a personal question."

"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

"I overheard you say that you're seeing NEVER LET ME GO. That's what we came to see, what do you know about it."

My heart sunk. They were there to watch the same movie as me, and I knew that there was going to be non-stop loud talking all through the feature. I looked at her sadly and said, "I hear that it's really horrible."

"What? Really?"

"What'd he say?" asked Herbert.

Louella seemed perturbed by her husband. "He's telling me about our movie."

"He's telling you how to move?" Herbert said, confused.

Louella shook her head. "Tell me more, tell me what you know."

"I know that there is supposed to be a lot of gratuitous sex and nudity."

Louella made spitting gestures as she made a noise something like "Tu, tu, tu."

I felt I needed to add more. "And there is also a lot of grotesque violence and
graphic bloody torture scenes."

Louella's face puckered up like a prune. "Oh no, no, no. That doesn't sound any good at all."

"Very dark, very depressing. It will leave you with an intense sense of dread."

Herbert demanded to be heard. "I want to know what this man is saying."

"He says our movie is bad, very bad," said Louella.

"Of course I'm glad," crowed Herbert. "I'm alive and at the movies."

Louella eyed me with scrutiny. "Now wait. Why are you going to see the movie if its so bad?"

"I see every movie, I'm sort of an amateur movie critic."

"And then you can tell people like us what to avoid. Very smart, very industrious. But now what can we go see?"

"I suggest SECRETARIAT, its the feel-good movie of the Fall season. You're gonna love it."

"What? What?" asked a flustered Herbert.

"He says we should go see SECRETARIAT, Herbert!" she yelled.

"Now you know I haven't had a secretary since I retired 20 years ago."

I went to my theater and enjoyed the movie in peace and solitude. And in my heart, I felt good about sending Herbert and Louella off to see a movie that I knew would bring them a smile.

ALICE THE THIEF

I picked up a car in Chicago that was headed to Laredo, Texas. Way down at the bottom of Texas next to the Mexican border. I was traveling down I-55 when my cell phone rang. It was good old Mrs. Sherman again, who seemed to like to call me from time to time.

"Hello, is this Bill?" she asked.

"Hi, Mrs. Sherman."

"Bill, is that you?"

"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

"I just baked a yellow cake with chocolate frosting, and I thought you might enjoy a slice."

"Thanks for offering, but I'm in Illinois right now."

"OK, what time will you be here?"

"Uh, no, I won't be there. I am headed south to Texas."

"Oh that's a real shame. I'm sorry to hear that. But I do have some good news for you."

"What's that?"

"I am going back down to Florida soon, and you'll be driving my car for me."

I smiled to myself. "Yes, I believe you mentioned that last time you called."

"Did I? You'd think I'd remember something like that. That's two weeks away, should I save you a piece of cake?"

"No thank you, I'm trying really hard to diet. I better let you go, see you soon."

"Oh yes you will, yes you will."

I had passed through Springfield about 40 miles back, and saw a sign telling me I was nearing a town called Litchfield. Up ahead, I saw a Volkswagen off on the shoulder of the road and a woman pacing back and forth next to it. It was cold outside, and I felt for her and whatever distress she was in. I thought I better pull over and offer to help her.

I parked behind the VW and got out. She barely acknowledged my presence. "Do you need any help?" I asked.

"People. Damn people," she mumbled, continuing to pace. "You can never depend on them. Damn them all."

"Is everything OK?"

She stopped suddenly, then walked up and got nose to nose with me. "No, everything is not OK. Not by a longshot."

I noticed that her face and hairstyle was a dead ringer for Morticia from THE ADDAMS FAMILY. Only she was much chunkier, more Rubenesque. There was a fire in her eyes, but a confused and lost quality to the fire. "Are you having car troubles?"

"You could say that. Oh yes, you surely could say that," she retorted.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Alice. Dumb, stupid Alice. You think you know someone, you think they are your friend, and then they turn on you."

I was completely lost. "I don't think I understand."

"Of course you don't. Because just like me, you put your trust in someone you love, and then when they betray you..." She slammed her hand on the roof of the car.

"How can I help?"

"Alice has been stealing from me, is there some way you can help with that?"

"I pulled over because I thought you might be in trouble."

"I am in trouble. I'm in crisis, for God's sake! Alice has lied to me, betrayed me, and taken money from me. And this isn't the first time."

"OK, well... What is wrong with your car?"

"Haven't you been listening? Alice is a thief!"

"Alice?"

"Yes. This is Alice, the sneaky bitch." She pointed at the VW.

"Oh, Alice. Gotcha."

"She can't be trusted. I'm at the end of my rope, I don't know what to do about her."

"You say she steals from you?"

"That's exactly what I said, and that is exactly what she does."

"How did she steal from you? I mean, what has she taken?"

"Where do I begin? She stole a watch from me, she stole cash numerous times, and now she has stolen my favorite ring."

I shook my head. "I'm trying to follow you."

"It's very simple, I put my valuables into the glove box, and the next day they are gone."

"Do you lock the glove box?"

She smiled winningly and stuck her hand out. "By the way, my name is Mary. Very nice of you to stop and check on me."

I gently shook her hand. "The pleasure is mine, Mary. I'm Bill Thomas."

"Now what was your question? Oh, do I lock the glove box. Of course not, why would I?"

"For security?"

"Alice is supposed to be my security. When an item is in her possession, she is responsible for taking care of it. I never lock my doors, and always leave the windows open. I'm a bohemian."

"Do you live in a good neighborhood?"

"I live in St. Louis, and it's a pretty rough area. I have to park on the street two blocks from my apartment building. But I know everything will be fine, because Alice takes care of herself quite well. If you know what I mean, and I think you do."

"Hmm. Mary, have you ever considered that some bad people might come during the night and take your things out of the glove box?"

Mary began laughing uproariously. "What? Are you serious? That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard in my life! You are too funny. Do you know what Alice would do if someone tried to steal from her?" Very suddenly, Mary went from laughter to sullen seriousness. "Although she seems to have no problem at all stealing from me." She turned and pointed a finger at the VW. "Traitor! Betrayer! Benedict Alice!"

"I really do wish there was something I could do to help."

"The truth is, you've been no help at all, Mr. Bill."

"Can I at least help you get your car started?"

She stared at me like I was a lunatic. "There's nothing wrong with Alice, she runs fine. But when I opened my glove box 30 minutes ago and found my favorite ring gone, I had to pull over and have a long talk with her. But she doesn't have anything to say, which only proves her guilt." Mary went and climbed into the car. "I wish you luck on your journey. But can I tell you that you're lousy at helping people in need." She started the VW and pulled out onto the highway, nearly causing a truck to hit her. The truck swerved wildly, and Mary drove down the Interstate at a cautious 45 mph.

I shook my head and climbed into my car. I thought about it, and decided not to be dissuaded from trying to help people in need. I looked around the interior of the car, then started the engine. "Listen to me, car, I don't know your name, but you better never steal anything from me." I grinned and pulled out onto the highway, ready to continue my travels.

THIS TIME LAST YEAR

Over this past weekend, I wrote about Thanksgiving this year, and all that I was thankful for. I was filled with good cheer. This time last year was a very different story.

I was assigned to pick up a car from a man in Ogden, Utah on the day before Thanksgiving. I was thrilled that I'd be done and planned to drive the car to Ohio and have turkey dinner with Smokey. He is a very good cook, and can put on quite a spread. The car had to be in Cleveland on Saturday afternoon. Oh, I'd have to drive all day and all night to make it, but I'd be in Columbus by late evening on Thursday.

I'd called the man, a Mr. Peron, to notify him of when I'd be coming. It wasn't until I arrived in Ogden at 9am on Wednesday that he gave me the bad news on the phone. "I've decided to hang onto the car until tomorrow. I'm not done with it yet."

This put a lump in my throat. "Excuse me sir, but I was instructed to get it today. I'm on a schedule."

"I don't give a damn about your schedule. You hear me? I just got fired from my job, and now they're taking my company car. But you don't care, do you? No one cares. So I called my ex-supervisor and told him that I'm keeping it until Thursday at 10am. And oh, by the way, he approved it, so there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Stuff that in your peace pipe and smoke it, amigo!" He abruptly hung up the phone on me.

I called Riff to verify this, and ended up getting cussed out for not being aggressive enough. I told Riff that I had to feel a bit of compassion that the man lost his job right at the holiday season, and Riff said, "You're weak and worthless, and you always will be. You think that kindness to others is a virtue? Well I'm telling you that its a character flaw, and you are a loser. You'll never get anywhere in life by showing sympathy and understanding to others. Oh, hey, Bill, who is that looking out at you from the mirror? Why its Bill the loser!"

The Internet assisted me in finding a cheap motel to stay overnight very near Mr. Peron's house. It was very cold out, so I called a taxi the next morning to take me there and arrived at 10am. Clearly, there was no one at home. I buttoned my coat up tight and took out a book to read. I sat waiting on the porch of the house, blowing little clouds from my mouth into the crisp chilly air.

At 12 noon sharp, the family pulled into their driveway and began to unload bags of food. It appeared they had picked up a fully cooked dinner from a restaurant somewhere in Ogden. "Oh my God," said Mr. Peron when he saw me. "Can't you leave a man alone? I can't believe the way you're harrassing me about this car. For the love of Mike, you are one persistent little bastard. Do you mind? We're not Mormons, you know! Please let us eat our Thanksgiving dinner in peace and then you can take the car. Now go away!"

I walked down the block, but soon realized I was too far to walk to anyplace where I could go inside and wait. Plus there aren't all that many places open on Thanksgiving day. So I just walked circles around his block, hoping to warm up. I took out my cell phone and called Smokey.

"Bill, you turkey, when are you getting here."

"That's the thing, Smokey, I don't think I'm gonna make it."

"What? Why?"

"I was supposed to pick this car up over 24 hours ago, and the man still hasn't released it to me."

"So he's a real dick, huh? Then you just tell him that you by God need that car and snatch the keys away from him."

"If only."

"No man, I mean it. You gotta take the bull by the horns, tell him what's what. It's Thanksgiving day, and I was counting on you to be here. You're supposed to be bringing me a bottle of Maker's Mark, you know."

"I know. And believe me, I want to be there."

"I've got stuff on the stove I need to tend to, call me when you get on the road."

After hanging up, I walked back to the house and rang the doorbell. An hour had passed, and I felt that it was time I got the car. Mr. Peron came to the door with a disgusted look on his face. "You just don't give up, do you Auto Boy? You are a pest who just keeps poke-poke-poking til you drive a man crazy. Well, the gas tank is on empty, so good luck to you. Here's the keys." And he threw the keys over my shoulder and out into the yard.

"I am really sorry you lost your job, sir, and I want to wish you and your family a Happy Thanksgiving."

"Screw you!" he said, and slammed the door in my face.

I got the keys and started the car. The gas needle was on "E", but luckily there was enough gas to get me to the closest gas station and fill up. I didn't get to Smokey's until late Friday night, but there were still plenty of leftovers. Mr. Peron was rude and seemed intent on ruining my day. But I chose to keep Thanksgiving alive in my heart, and to try my best to be understanding about how painful it is to lose a job in today's economy.