Beginnings - Cement City

Lemon drops rained from the shattered glass dispenser along the back ledge, fronting the wall length mirror, and bounced in all directions across the Italian marble floor of the ancient corner candy and ice cream counter.

“The next one is in your head!” snarled the menacing yet clean cut hulk of a man in the midnight blue, hand tailored suit, holding a large black handgun. Smoke eased wistfully from the black eye of the muzzle. The man’s attire spoke of money and power, from the hundred dollar haircut to the four hundred dollar pair of black wingtips which glistened from hours of polish and buffing.

He spoke, like one who was accustomed to getting his way, to the smallish, frail old balding man in the red apron, cowering near the floor. In an angry yet controlled hiss he spoke again.
“Now then, we will try this again. Where is your boss, McCloud!”
The shrinking man, clung to himself and squeaked faintly but did not reply.

The large suit stepped around the corner and strode toward the quivering mass. In one gloved fist, he grabbed the old man’s shirt and lifted until the man’s tan loafers hung in the air above a scattering of yellow marble sized confections.

“Charles!” reading the name off a faded badge pinned to the crumpled man’s apron, “Charles, you don’t want to die, protecting scum like your boss McCloud, do you?” He waited, holding the man aloft as easily as if he were a holding a finger in the air to check for wind. “Now answer the question!” He screamed suddenly, shaking the man in the air.

“I….don’t…know where he is…” Charles finally sputtered. “I haven’t seen….him since…Saturday morning, Mr. Woods.”

“You know me? Huh!” Mr. Woods chuckled with more menace then humor.
“I’ve heard..a..heard of you, of course.”
“Well, then you know that I am not a patient man, Charles. Especially with people who are loyal to scum bosses and who lie to me!”

But..bu..bu” Charles stammered like a rapid spattering of hiccups.

But Mr. Woods was done chatting. He dropped Charles to his feet, with a thud by releasing the grasp of his left hand while instantaneously bringing his right around in a tight efficient swing. The swollen right fist, holding the gun by its barrel, came down against the side of Charles’s skull with a crack. Charles collapsed without further sound into a limp pile on the Italian marble among the scattered yellow lemon drops.

Mr. Woods stepped, dismissively, over the mess on the floor and walked with purpose towards the front door but not before stepping to the counter and, with one meaty arm, knocked every glass candy container to the floor, leaving the floor covered in broken glass and colored sticky sweets.

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Frustration

Spent the day waiting.... waiting for the underwriters to look at the loan files and generate additional conditions or to clear them for loan documents.

I waited for clients who don't seem to be nearly as motivated as I am to finish up their loans. "No, I didn't get to it this week.... we had company over the weekend so I couldn't sign the disclosure..... my accountant went camping this week." Meanwhile when their locks expire and they can't get the same loan rate....are they going to blame themselves for it....NO.... Right here! The big bald guy. He's the jerk who couldn't get it done. The FAT man!

Waiting for a company to fill out some questions on a third of a page of paper about employment of one of their employees.....all day.....no return fax.... probably still sitting on someones desk while they pick their noses or talk on the phone about their plans for the long weekend.

Waiting at the church in a white straight jacket and tie, after wolfing down a wonderful dinner so that I could be on time for interviews planned at the whim and choice of the bishop..... only to discover that, after opening the church, the bishop's office and the clerks office and adjusting the air conditioning in the bishop's office so that he would be more comfortable, that after twenty minutes where no one showed, to call the bishop who is still sitting in the comfort of his home and have him tell me that he decided to move them back two hours. "oh, I tried to call you but no one was home. maybe I should have tried your cell phone." Or, I have an Idea, how about just leaving a message on that little thing I call the idiot box or the sifter of stupid phone calls.

Coming home from the church, to watch my daughter be oblivious to cars while she rides her scooter on the streets and to have some MORON, who obviously beats his children and wife, after stopping as my daughter dawdles by the front of his suburban, then lay into his horn for twenty seconds to prove some point or teach a lesson. If I had been close enough to yell at him, I would have taken his horn and performed an intimate colonoscopy, gratis, through his nose!

Now, I sit, knowing that I should be doing something productive, but, trying to let the day fall away.

Frustration!

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Bread

The long green tubular veggy that grows inches overnight while you slumber has been the source of my focus for the past two days.

I shredded 6 cups of the stuff, which equated to 2 oversized veggies. This has become six loaves of bread. 4 on Saturday and two more on Sunday afternoon.

The nine brown frozen bananas in the freezer also gave of themselves to become 3 additional loaves. 1 last night and two more this afternoon.

I purchased two glass loaf pans a few weeks ago and I am having a ball using them!!

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another day

Off to scout camp for the day tomorrow morning.

Spent today collecting loan conditions on various loans. Drove to Fillmore for more conditions, no lunch, left work at 7:00pm.

My headache continues for a third day. I don't normally get headaches.

My hands continue to twitch more and more consistently over the last six months. It was just in the evenings initially. Now it goes on throughout the day. I don't know what it is.

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