the phone rings

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night.  Unfortunately the person that answers those rings has no way of knowing that it is a wrong number.  The phone woke Tom and Dana up.  Who could that be at this time of night?  Tom rolled over and mumbled hello.  No one responded.  Hello he said, who is this?  Still no answer and then the click of the other party hanging up.  Who was it, Dana asked?  I don't know, they hung up.  Wrong number I guess.  They both rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but Tom couldn't.  He wasn't supposed to be home that night.  He had come home from his run  a day early.  His normal run put  him in Phoenix on Wednesday and Thursday nights.

This week one of the accounts didn't have any freight so he deadheaded home early.  He was wide awake.  Recently he had been wondering if she had been cheating on him.

 She could cheat so easy with him gone two nights each week.  Was that her boy friend calling?  The bug had been planted and it grew and festered the rest of the night.  He got up early and got himself a beer.  By the time Dana got up he was drunk and mad.  He knew she had been cheating on him.  He accused her.  He wouldn't believe her.  Who was he?  How long?  Then he hit her with a back hand that split her lip and sent her sprawling.  He heard a noise behind him and turned.  The bullet entered his chest, exploded his heart and tore a hole in his back the size of a fist.  He was dead before his body hit the floor.  God Dana said, what are you doing here?  The killer replied, I knew he was suspicious when he answered the phone.  I came to see if you were all right. This is perfect he said.  You  can say you killed him and claim self defense.  He helped her off the floor and kissed her.  My brother wasn't worth a damn he said,  He's better off dead.

carry on tuesdays

panties, wine and sleep

decided to take a shot at the new poetry blog.
objects of imitation
don't know why, but it was fun

wandering through
the silk and satin
these push up that
those cling tightly to it
they lift and firm
what the hell size
does she wear
                                                          gsbatty/2009

no one drinks wine alone
why not
it's my wine
I can do as I please
                                                               gsbatty/2009

asleep on the floor
don't care any more
the dam plane
is stuck
somewhere
                                                               gsbatty/2009

blue

We were two
she and I

she was blue
I was lost

she was wild
I was shy

We became one
she and I

she was everywhere
she was everything

I was lost in she
she was lost in I

she permeated my world
The atmosphere was filled with her

I could feel her, sense her
as part of me

she blanketed me
like a warm summer breeze. 

she surrounded me
engulfed me
caressed me 

she lifted me.
she was I
I was she

Then we we were two
she and I

It was fun
when we were one

When we became
two 

she was lost
I was blue

POETRY - Sunday Scribblings

to love or not to love

They loved with a love that was more than love. Their passion was deep an unending. They lived for each other, truly the perfect love. No one else, nothing else, existed when they were together. They hated the times they had to be apart. They plotted secret meetings in the middle of the day. Sneaking away for an unneeded errands. Just a touch, a hug would help them get through the moment. Often the touch, the hug could not be broken leading to the the thrill of public sex. Coupling in places they could be seen or caught but rarely were they seen and if they were, they would giggle and disappear, melting into the busy world. They knew their love and their passion would last for ever. A love so deep and a passion so strong can also have a deep river of jealously flowing like the river Styx buried somewhere deep in the unsuspecting brain. A misspoken word, a missed rendezvous, a look, a smile at a pretty girl, a compliment by a handsome man, often lead to small suspicions and if not talked about they can grow and seethe and boil and fester. Those that can love so deeply are also those that can hate just as deeply. The love that was more than a love can turn into a hate that is more than a hate and it did with these two. Their jealousy grew but they were not the type to talk about their problems. Each knew that they were true to the love and passion and were sure the other was weak, faltering, looking for a forbidden touch. Their suspicions of each other festered in their minds and soon each was sure the other was planning to leave. Each began to miss the daily trysts. An excuse, a meeting, anything to avoid the other. Each would hurry home at night to see if the other would still be there. There love making was short. They were like two animals, mating because of mother nature. Each wanted the other to deny their couplings so they could confirm their inner knowledge. Neither would give in. They had sex every night. Quick functional sex. There was no emotion involved, only hard physical sex. Each acting as a prostitute. A deep hatred began to grow in their hearts. Each began to plan revenge, a perfect way to get even. Each began to plan the perfect murder. They became obsessed. When they got home they had their animal mating moment and hurried to their own personal computer. Each googled death, murder, poison and any other subjects that might help them in their plot for revenge. It is interesting how the mind works. Their minds seem to meld together in their desire to commit the perfect murder. Their computers searched the exact same subjects at almost the exact same time. Neither had a clue to what the other was doing. They were on a mission. The perfect murder. Should I get insurance...no that would be stupid...revenge, not money is my desire. Should I hire someone...no that's really stupid....Should I buy a gun....no, to obvious...Poison...no, to easy to trace...Medicine...the idea came to each mind as if they were listening to a lecture...."Viagra"....oh my God, they thought, I can kill with sex. Oh how easy will that be. Viagra, so easy to get from the net. Viagra sent in a plain wrapper to their places of work. Viagra, so easy to slip into a drink. A hot drink to mix the pill. Each made a potion of Viagra and boiling water. Each used 10 pills, more than enough they were sure to bring forth the revenge, the death of a cheating lover. Each chose Starbucks. On the fateful evening each said to the other almost as one "lets go to Starbucks for a Latte". Neither realizing that the other had also said it. They were too excited. It was like the honey moon night of two virgins. Each found a way to slip "their" potion into the others drink. They sipped for a few moments and then began to drink faster, Again almost as one the words "I'm horny,lets go home" came from both mouths. Again neither realizing the other had also said it. They were hot and ready before they left the shop. He showing his manhood alive and ready, she giggling and kissing his ear and neither caring about the show they were putting on. In fact they were glad they were making a scene. It would be perfect later when the other was dead. They were almost undressed before they went through the front door. They were into each other immediately. They both ground and pushed. Hot and sweaty, each screamed, "harder, faster", do it faster, I need it faster. 10 minutes, 15 minutes, 30 minutes and then an hour. The Viagra pushed them, gave them strength and stamina they never knew they had. They were both exhausted. Neither could figure out why the other was still alive. They collapsed in a heap, tangled together, Neither had climaxed. He began to giggle and then she began to laugh and then they really looked at each other for the first time since the jealousy began. I was trying to kill you he confessed. She laughed and also confessed. They talked, confessed and talked and that started a real love that truly was a love that was more than a love. Carry on Tuesdays

adults suck

This subject is this old bear's favorite pet peeve. "When are you going to grow up"? "Act your age". "Do you know how old you are?" These question were hurled at me just last week from Mrs. Old Grizz. Why in the hell would I want to grow up? That's my standard answer. I never want to grow up. I never want to be an adult and by "God" I won't. To hell with the those that think I have to act in some "way". I refuse to give it up. "It" being my child behavior. I like to throw tantrums when I get caught with my fingers in the cookie jar. The greatest compliment I ever received was at my 50th high school reunion. One of the "Miss Prissy Pants" that believed her life had been so successful, (3 kids - doctor, lawyer, Indian chief), looked at me, batted her droopy mascaraed eyes and babbled, "you still haven't grown up, have you? This stupid blathering came during the session where everyone stands up and brags about how successful they have been. "Yahoo, look at me I have more money than you. My parents are better than your yours has been changed to "my kids are more successful than yours." I just stood up and said that I had been arrested more than any one else in the class and had sex with more women than any other guy there and finally all my kids were very happily incarcerated in one prison or another in 26 different states and that I sure was some kind of a record, thank you very much. I thought I was doing them all a favor. After all what do most adults want more than someone to look down on. No, not me. I never want to grow up. However, if I ever do, I want to be a cowboy or policeman or fire fighter or a astronaut or a school teacher for Sunday Scribblings

Shylo and Me

posted for "Keith's COTtage" When a journey begins badly it rarely ends well is a damned good way to describe my trip to bury Shylo. I should have known that there would be trouble. They warned me to stay home. They warned me that I was to weak to make the drive, but I couldn't stay there. I had to go. I had to see her one last time. I left early because there was a 4 hour drive ahead of me. I had left her at a friends house while I had a Gall Bladder removed. I wasn't one of the lucky ones that got in and out in one day. They cut a hole in my gut that was eight inches long. That was after they had cut a hole in my belly button. Nasty, nasty, nasty the doc said. You had one ugly Bladder, we had to take it out it in pieces. I moaned and felt sorry for myself for the next week while I recovered. I got the phone call early in the morning. She was dead. She was my black schnauzer and the best dog I ever owned. It was like a boy and his dog while he was growing up. We were never apart from the time I bought her as a puppy until I left her that day. Seven years and we were never apart. She went every where I went. If she couldn't go, I didn't go. My eyes teared when I left her. Maybe that was that an omen. Maybe I should have known what was going to happen but I didn't. I wasn't worried about her. My friends loved dogs and I knew they would take good care of her. What I didn't know was that she would run away. I guess she was looking for me. It wasn't the cars fault, Shylo ran right in front of it. The driver took her to the vet but she died on his table. They were waiting for me to get there before they buried her. I had told them I wanted her in a pet cometary. I couldn't bear to think of her being burned up in one of those damned dog inferno's. As I drove towards her my eyes teared and I couldn't stop from crying, My eyes began to burn and as I tried to wipe them dry I missed a turn and my car left the road, flipping over and over down a hill side, I was killed on the second flip. Maybe this journey did end well after all, Shylo and Me are together again. .

the dinner

posted for Sunday Scribbling Last month Old Grizz got himself in one big heap of trouble. Mrs. Old Grizz left to spend a few weeks with her mother. If you ever want to meet up with one mean old she bear, you should visit my mother in law. Well you know what happens when momma bear is away, this old bear is gonna play. Having the den to myself for a few days I decided it would a perfect time to invite the boys over for some "Texas Holdem". Eight seats at the table, seven suckers and my self. I picked the seven worst poker players I knew. Scooby-doo - A not so smart dog. Eeyore - A less than bright donkey (I always thought of him as "dumb ass"). Goofy - The name says it all. Yogi Bear - My dumb cousin from Jelly Stone Park. Pepe-Le-Pew - A real stinker when it comes to poker. Huckleberry Hound - Need I say any more. Foghorn Leghorn - well, how smart can a chicken be (I call him Pea Brain). The invites were sent (actually I just called them) and then I went to get the food. Chips and dip, buffalo wings (that one is always hard for me because I hate to eat a cousin - I actually know a few buffalo's with wings, one is now missing his), and of course a keg of beer. The party was on. Friday night the boys showed and we just sat down to deal the first hand when Mrs. Old Grizz came home. When she walked in the door the bear poop hit the fan. "What is going on. I told you no more poker parties. Scooby-doo leaves his scooby snacks every where and when he loses all can do it run around saying "rooby-rooby-roo". He drives me crazy. And ..the last time Eeyore was here he left thistle all over the house, then pooped in the corner and had the audacity to walk around saying "thanks for noticing me". Oh my God. you let Goofy come back? They should have never changed his name from "Dippy". All he does is scream all night long "Yaaaaaaa-hoo-hoo-hoo-hooey. I can't even think. Well bless my soul if isn't cousin Yogi. If you say "I'm smarter than the average bear" one time, I'll smack you with a frying pan. Beside you're not so dam smart. Your love life is shot to hell after you got caught with that blond hussy. They even wrote a song about you. If you haven't heard it check it out on the net. suzie bear Oh Grizzy how could you let that stinking Pepe-Le-Pew come back. Last time he kept humping my leg because I had on black pants with a white stripe down the leg. Huckleberry Hound? How can you let a blue person into my house? You know I can't stand blue people and on top of that he cannot even hum a tune on key. Huck if you even hum one bar of "Clementine" I'll wash your mouth out with "mother's Lie Soap". Glory be Grizzy get out the frying pan. I'm going to eat that tough old buzzard. Foghorn if you grab me be the tail and whack me with a board singing that "Camptown Races" song, I'll doo-dah you all over the barn yard. Everybody out. Out...out...out. You're not going to mess up my house. Get out. Grizz you have a lot of explaining to do. Yes dear. And so went the story of Old Grizz's dinner for seven.

what happened?

We think we know the ones we love............ for "Keith's COTtage"

we talked often we walked on occasion we drank together every now and then even shared the same women from time to time he was always there for me i called to him for guidance and support he was the first to come when i was down i could count on him to lift me to higher places and then it all changed something happened to challenge our friendship i called he was not there anymore i was lost i could not function where did my inner being disappear oh shit he is off in the strange strange world of blogging

new, whats?

an old man sitting in the morning sun worried that his life was no longer worth the effort and then a new child was born that needed his love and guidance and beget a new reason for him to be

for Sunday Scribblings

anticipate and the journey

ANTICIPATE FOR SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS i anticpated and was disappointed.............. i dreamed and was denied........... i went and never saw............ i believed and didn't achieve....... i looked and could not see................ i know that i did not................ believe in me the journey carry on tuesday

The journey began and immediately it was apparent that there was to be no end. There would be countless years of struggles and frustrations. Even if there was to be some small area of success or some small milestone reached, the journey would continue, driven by the desires and deeds of the writer. There had to be much thought and then long periods of rethinking. Roads had to be driven and maps plotted and then the routes had to be redirected and sent in another way. The ultimate destination a dream, maybe a forgotten childhood fantasy or a simple desire to be noticed. The road is a compulsion that must be followed. It cannot be denied and when a milestone in the journey is reached it may cause revulsion and denial. Like a woman who wants to destroy the children she has created, the writer has periods of remorse and hates the offspring of their thoughts. They lament the creative process and have grave doubts about the journey but they know it must go on. It cannot be stopped, because it is now in the blood and no matter what happens on the journey, the writer must continue. To stop the journey would be to deny eternal life. There will never be an end, only the journey.

midnight dream

Self Found Midnight dreams Swirls Above Twilight darkness Confronts Mass Confused energy Challenge Awaken

Force denial Screams Take Desire Whispers Be Unafraid Nuzzle Bravery Fears not Defeat

Fools fear Failure Mind Awake Failure Is Knowledge Gone Misty Dream Remember Not Dream Forgot