Jerry’s Vacation

Daily Prompt: Let’s Go Crazy
by Krista on March 7, 2014
Sometimes, we act on impulse: it could be something as small as ordering that special dessert on the menu, maybe asking out that cute boy or girl, or as large quitting your job and selling everything you own to become a shepherd in New Zealand. What’s the most crazy, outrageously impulsive thing you’ve ever done? If you’ve never succumbed to temptation, dream a little. If you gave yourself permission to go a little crazy, what would you do?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us IMPULSE.


Jerry sat in his easy chair watching the baseball game on a hot summer evening. He was drifting off to sleep, a ritual he had started as a young man which continued into his married years. It was something his wife, Carol, had always hated. It was his only vice she had known about before they got married. He never drank too much or smoked too much or anything really worse than that at all.

About four or five months after they were married, she started seeing him change. He’d leave a beer bottle in the living room over night. He’d forget to take the trash out on the morning the garbage trucks came. It started small, but got to be a big problem in her eyes. A big problem.

Jerry thought it was a big problem too. He worked full time at the Ford plant and was tired when he got home. He’d been there for thirty five years already and wanted to retire. But damn, Carol got on his ever lasting nerves sometimes. He’d come home and wonder, “What’s it going to be tonight? Dishes? Garbage? Jesus, Carol, just put the dishes in the dish washer. Just throw the damn beer bottle away. Was it really that big of a deal?”

As he sat there drifting off to sleep to the sound of a Chicago sportscaster calling play by play, he heard Carol.

“Jesus Christ Jerry! How many times to I have to tell you to rinse your plate off? It’s not that hard.”

“Then why don’t you do it,” he thought. “Sorry dear,” was what he eventually said.

“Sorry doesn’t rinse the dishes off, dear.”

He sighed heavily and collapsed the easy chair’s foot rest. He heard the crack of the bat on TV and stood there watching as the runner rounded third heading for home and the hitter rounded second trying to stretch a double into a triple.

“Jerry!” The shrill voice of his wife screaming his name made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goose bumps form on his forearms like fingernails on a chalkboard.

He sighed, “Coming.”

His wife was wiping down the table when he meandered into the kitchen. He went to the sink and looked, but there were no dishes in it. He turned to his wife who had stopped and turned to face him already.

“You took too long. I didn’t want to start the dishwasher too late. You know I can’t sleep with that damn thing running.”

He hung his head and sighed again. Jerry could feel his blood pressure rising as if he’d just eaten a bag of Lay’s potato chips in one sitting, which wasn’t unheard of. He knew it was bad for him, but how could you eat just one? Or was that Jay’s potato chips? He couldn’t remember.

Jerry walked back to his chair and baseball game. The guy on third had scored but there was nobody on base. Must have been a sac fly or something he thought. He heard his wife again in the kitchen. She had a habit of muttering under her breath just loud enough for Jerry to hear. All he heard was, “Dammit Jerry…” and then metal slam on muffled metal. He must have “forgotten” to take the trash out again.

Jerry took his eyes off the baseball game and eyed the double barrel shotgun hanging above the fireplace.

“Jerry,” he heard close by. “Will you please take the garbage out tonight? The truck comes in the morning and you always forget to take it out before you leave for work and I have to drag it out there myself.”

“I don’t always forget,” he replied, looking up at his wife standing in front of the TV blocking the game.

“Yes, you do,” she replied just as sarcastically as he did. “For the last three weeks I’ve had to drag it out to the curb by myself.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll take it out tonight.”

She turned around without saying thank you or anything and went into her sewing room. He looked back again at the shotgun for a second and then looked back at the baseball game. It was a commercial and he didn’t know how the inning ended. He took the last swig of his fourth and usually final beer of the night. But tonight he’d have another one just for shits. It was Friday and he didn’t have to go to work in the morning.

He got up, and as an after thought, grabbed his empty beer bottle and threw it away before grabbing another one from the fridge.

As he popped the can open, the inning started back up, but whatever the announcer said was partially drowned out by, “Jesus Christ, Jerry! Are you drinking another beer?!”

He picked up the can and took four huge gulps emptying half the can in one go. “Yes dear,” he almost shouted. “It’s the weekend and I don’t have to work in the morning!” He eyed the shotgun once more. It’d be quick and painless. Dirty, but quick. And painless.

He heard nothing more from the other room and resumed watching the baseball game. He had fourteen minutes and thirty two seconds of nothing but baseball. At fourteen minutes thirty three seconds, he heard the door slam. He sighed.

“Jerry, how many times must I ask you to fix the closet door in my sewing room before you actually fix it?”

“Forty two,” he replied.

“Excuse me?”

“Forty two times. You must ask me, nicely, forty two times.”

“Cute. Real cute, Jerry. Just fix it tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

He sighed. “Yes, dear.” She turned on her heels and walked into the bedroom. The sound of the game on the TV seemed far and distant. He looked at the shotgun over the mantel again and sighed…again. Quick. Painless. Dirty…but quick. And painless.

He got up when the inning was over and the commercials started. Jerry walked into the kitchen and popped the lid of the garbage can, took out the trash bag and tied it up. He took it out to the garage where the bin was and threw it in. There was one other bag in the bin, hardly anything Carol couldn’t handle in the morning. He contemplated opening the garage door, it would be easier to drag the bin out that way rather than having to muscle it over the threshold of the regular door. But that would make much less noise than the garage door and he knew how Carol couldn’t sleep with the dishwasher going so she surely wouldn’t be able to sleep with the garage door going up and down.

After muscling the garbage bin over the threshold, he came back in after grabbing a can of WD-40 and a flat head screw driver. He went into Carol’s sewing room and used the flat head as a lever to pop the folding door back into its track. He sprayed some WD-40 on the squeaky hinges of the metal doors and opened and closed them a few times. Quiet as a mouse.

He put the tools back on his workbench in the garage and came back and sat down in his chair, slightly out of breath, and resumed watching the game only after taking one more glance at the shotgun.

He got up, walked to the shotgun which used to be his grandfather’s, and took it off the mantel. He opened it up and looked into the barrels confirming it was indeed empty and took a half full box of shells out from corner table drawer. The next thing he would do would change his life forever.


Carol woke up in the morning and through crusty eyes saw that Jerry’s side of the bed had not even been slept in. He must have fallen asleep in his chair again. She got up and went to the bathroom calling out his name weakly once before actually getting to the bathroom. No answer.

After she finished her business and had washed the sleep from her eyes, she went into the living room. But he wasn’t in his chair.

She walked into the kitchen and saw the note on the table. She picked it up and began to read it.

“Dear Carol,” it began. “I couldn’t take your nagging anymore. I thought about taking granddad’s shotgun and killing myself, but I really didn’t want to do that. I don’t want to die. Then I thought about killing you, but figured you didn’t want to die either. Besides, after thirty years of marriage I didn’t have the heart to do it anyway.” He always did have a sense of humor she thought. “So then I thought I’d move away. So that’s what I’m doing. I took out our savings of $80,000 from the ATM. I didn’t think it’d do it, but it just kept spitting out the money. You wouldn’t believe it anyway. You never believed me. Anyway, I have our savings. But there’s the emergency fund for you. It has almost $49,000 in it. You’ll have to sell the house too, but if you move into an old folks community, you can call someone and they’ll take the trash out and fix your closet doors if you need them too. Which, by the way, I’ve done for you before I left. After two years, you can have me declared legally dead. You’ll get my pension from the plant and my half million dollar life insurance policy. Don’t worry about me, I’ve already called Fernando from the plant. His brother helps get people out of Mexico and into the U.S. and he agreed to help me get into Mexico without a passport. Said it was the first time he’d ever heard of that. Anyway, I took the only thing I wanted which was my granddad’s gun. $80,000 should last me a good long time in Mexico or Costa Rica or wherever I end up going. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this personally, but I thought this was quick and painless. Dirty for you having to deal with all the paperwork and filing missing persons and having the courts declare me legally dead. Definitely dirty for you, but it’s quick and painless for me. So, I guess this is it. Thanks for the memories. It’s been good and bad. But I just felt the need to do something impulsive and while this is still probably fraud and illegal, it seemed better than killing one of us. Have a good rest of your life. Love, Jerry.”

Carol sat down in the chair stunned. She couldn’t believe what she had just read and so read it again. After a moment she rummaged through her purse and found her little address book. She called Fernando and had a brief conversation. Yes, he had talked to Jerry at three in the morning. Yes he was on his way to Mexico. No he didn’t know where.

After she hung up she sat in the chair and gazed out of the small kitchen window. “You son of a bitch,” she said out loud. “Jesus Christ, Jerry. You son of a bitch.” She started laughing and took the lighter sitting in front of her and lit the note on fire and put it in the ash tray.

She burst out laughing until tears streamed out of her eyes. She hadn’t laughed so hard in years. When she calmed down after a few minutes she stood up and walked into the bedroom to change into her clothes and she began to think of how she was going to spend a half million dollars of life insurance money.


The Trials of Miriam – Part Two (No, there is no Part One)

The Trials of Miriam – Part Dos

So tired of all the bickering she has to do between her and the thousands of insurance reps she must deal with on a business daily basis, Miriam decided she needed a holiday. But this was to be no ordinary holiday, no it was to be a working holiday. But you, dear reader, surely you must be wondering, “Why would she choose to have a working holiday if she’s trying to escape work?”
Ah, but therein lies the answer to the secret. Miriam and her eighteen brothers and sisters were international spies for the United States government. Their ethnic background of being half Cherokee, half Canadian, half Austrian, half Scottish and half Flemmish put them all in the perfect position to speak feather Indian, Canadian, Austrian and Scotlandish. In addition, Miriam knew Spanish and Pig Latin and each one of her eighteen brothers and sisters knew at least one other language besides those that they were born knowing, namely, feather Indian, Canadian, Austrian and Scotlandish.
On this particular adventure, Miriam took only a few of her eighteen brothers and sisters. Josiah and Caleb went with her as her personal body guards. Abbie also went because of her ability to speak a particular dialect of Scotlandish called Englandish. Their destination? London, England….*insert dramatic music… da da daaaaa*

Flash forward eight or nine hours, depending on how the jet stream is behaving, and we arrive at Heathrow in London. Miriam and her secret agent siblings make their way through the throngs of thespians that are their way to thing (this word, “thing”, is supposed to be “sing” pronounced with a lisp. The better to continue the alliteration. Please continue to use this rule in the rest of the sentence for words that don’t make sense.) for the queen and her thisters at the Three Thinging Theater Thespians Pub in thentral London.

They come up to a flower shop when Miriam decides she needs to buy flowers for the man she is trying to catch, she doesn’t know why she is trying to catch him, only that her government needs her in this darkest of political days to catch this man whom nobody seems to know who or what he did that would require such drastic measures as to call Secret Agent Miriam out of her mundane existence as an Insurance Collector in Tennessee and fly her and three eighteenths of her brothers and sisters to help her track down this most nefarious of plotters against the government.

Knowing that the previous paragraph was one ginormous run-on sentence, she also decides to send Caleb, Josiah and Abbie ahead to get to the hotel to set up headquarters. With so many decisions already made, she decides, once more, to pay for the flowers with a credit card, partially so she wouldn’t have to do the dollar/pound conversion and partially for the exceptional exchange rate her credit card company offered her. Needing to take the flowers directly to the man whom she is tracking but isn’t supposed to know she is tracking, she is in a hurry because he is expected to leave the Tube platform in exactly about 3 minutes. But the credit card company is having a most difficult time translating Englandish pounds into American dollars!

I Don’t Have Much To Say

So I don’t have much to say,
My life is quite boring, but hey,
It’s my life to live.
I have a lot to give.
It’s up to you if you stay.

But remember this if you do,
My moods can sometimes be blue.
They can also be great,
Full of love, not hate,
It’s my choice and not up to you.

So if you’re still here that’s fine.
I’m going to have a glass of wine.
Join me if you will,
We’ll take a big swill.
And we’ll all have a merry old time.

Stupidity – Epidemic of the Ages

If you could create a painless, inexpensive cure for a single ailment, what would you cure and why? Photographers, artists, poets: show us HEALTH.

If I were King of the World, I would have all my potion makers and healers and alchemists create a pill that would cure stupidity once and for all.  The land would be pure and stupidness wouldn’t exist.  That’s not to say that people wouldn’t have their differences.  It wouldn’t take our minds away like you see in so many dystopian movies and books.  No, this would take the “How have you survived so long because you’re so stupid” stupid out of people.  This cure would make people that park in two spots because they don’t want their precious cars dinged not be so upset when someone purposely dings their car because they couldn’t fit properly, or they had to park three miles away.  After having the stupidity pill, they might still park that way, but they would say, “Golly gee.  I probably shouldn’t have parked that way, huh?  Next time I’ll park like a normal human being.”  I’m sure you can think of tons of other examples of how the world would be a better place without stupidity infecting the minds and hearts of its inhabitants.

The Walking Let Go – Season 1 Episode 1 (Days Gone Bye) – Part 1

My friend, that I call “sister-friend” or “schwesterfreund” or “hermiga”, Miriam, is a bit squeamish when it comes to nasty, slimy, blood and guts and veins in your teeth sorts of things.  Like The Walking Dead on AMC.  Last year, I was telling her about the show and going into graphic detail when I took a look at her and noticed her face was pale and her skin clammy.  It was then that I apologized and continued the story, watering it down (very much) for her.  Every week I would give her a “Sum-Up” of what was happening because she actually got into the show through my descriptions because there was no way she would watch the show as long as there were zombies (bad guys) and people getting killed (let go) by bad buys that would eat them (beat them up).  This is opposed to “real bad guys” like the governor who “really beats people up”.  SO, without further ado, this series on my blog is dedicated to my wunderbar schwesterfreund, Miriam, and to all the others out there that don’t have the stomach for nastiness.

The story opens up on a literal crossroad, which is quite metaphoric and foreshadowy really because the characters are oft times at a crossroad of some kind.  Anyway, Rick, the main dude pulls up in a cop car because he’s a cop.  And there’s burnt out cars and stuff tipped over as if there were riots because the Cubs won the World Series.  So he gets a gas can out of the trunk and is going to the gas station to try and siphon some gas but the sign says “No Gas.”  It’s all quiet and spooky like and all you hear are the crickets and things blowing around.  Then you hear shuffling footsteps.  Not like a dance shuffling or LMFAO shuffling but like dragging your feet shuffling.  And Rick gets down on his knees and looks under the car and sees little feet shuffling around in little fuzzy slipper and the little something picks up a teddy bear and starts shuffling again.  Rick stands up and walks over and it’s a little girl but her back is to him now as she’s heading in a different direction.  He says “Little girl…don’t be afraid.  I’m a policeman.” which under normal circumstance would be sorta creepy but it’s creepy in a different way now.  So he repeats it and the little girl turns around and she’s let go and has turned into a bad guy.  So she makes the now familiar let go gurgling sound and starts to chase Rick who starts to run away and pulls out his shooter and really lets the girl go.  And that starts the now very familiar creepy music that starts the credits that continues the show.

The next part is a flashback.  It’s Rick and his cop partner Shane talking in the cop car.  They are talking about men and women.  And we come to find out that Rick and his wife Laurie are having some marital problems.  Could be like normal cop and wife marital problems but we don’t know.  Then they get a call over the cop radio about bad guys (real bad guys)and they fly to help out with the high speed chase.  They spread spike strips and wait.  So the bad guys come flying down the road and hit the spike stips and go flying.  I mean flipping and tumbling and rolling and they end up upside down in the field.  All the cops are pointing their guns at the car and a bad guy comes out and starts shooting at the cops.  They start shooting back and the bad guy shoots Rick, but it hits his bullet proof vest.  He goes down nonetheless and the other cops let the bad guy go.  Then another guy comes out and starts shooting at the cops and they let him go too.  They think that’s all the bad guys and Shane goes to help Rick and he says Laurie can’t know he got shot, like ever.  And just then a third bad guy gets out and really shoots Rick.  And the cops let the last bad guy go.  It’s not looking good for Rick.  The ambulance comes and then we see from Ricks point of view in the hospital and it’s fuzzy and grainy and choppy.  And Shane brings flowers.  Then he goes out and comes back like it’s only been a few seconds.  But nobody is around.  He calls out and no one answers.  Then he looks over and the flowers are dead.  How can that be?  He was only out for a little bit, right?  Nope.  He manages to get up and out of bed and walks around an abandoned hospital that’s pretty creepy. Lights are flickering and papers are on the floor and equipment turned over.  What in the world is going on?  He walks around the corner and looks through the windows of the door down the hallway and there is someone that has been beat up by the bad guys.  He freaks out a little and walks around and comes up to a door that’s chained shut and it says Don’t Open, Let Go inside.  And the doors start shaking and hands come through the cracks and you hear the telltale sound of let go people.  Now Rick is really freaking out.  He runs away into a pitch black staircase and uses a book of matches he found on the counter to see where he’s going.  He makes it to an emergency exit and walks outside into blinding sunlight.  And here he sees wrapped up really let go people.  Let go after let go.  He starts to really really panic now cause they are all over the place.  He stumbles out still in his hospital gown and it looks like a war zone.  Helicopters and army tanks and blowed up buildings.

He’s getting better at walking now and finds a bike with half a bad guy laying down nearby.  He picks up the bike and half a bad guy starts gurgling and crawling toward him trying to let him go.  He freaks out and eventually gets on the bike and goes away.  Then he goes home and calls out to his wife and nobody’s there.  He calls out to his son, Carl, and nobody answers.  And then he breaks down because he thinks they got let go.  He goes outside and sits on the steps and sees a bad guy walking toward him but he doesn’t do anything. Then you see a person behind Rick but you don’t know if it’s a good guy or a bad guy.  He makes a noise and then next thing you see is Rick being hit in the head with shovel!  Ouch!  It’s a little black kid and he screams out to his dad that he got one.  Rick thinks it’s Carl cause he’s emotional and he just got hit in the head with a shovel.  Then the kids dad walks up to the bad guy and lets him go before coming up to his kid and Rick.  The guy points a gun at Rick and asks what his wound is.  Rick isn’t quite sure what’s going on still probably because of shock and probably because he got hit in the head by a shovel and doesn’t say anything.  Then the guy cocks his gun and says that he will let Rick go if he doesn’t answer.  Then Rick passes out.

That’s all for today.  Part 2 of Episode 1 will probably come tomorrow.  But don’t hold your breath cause that would be a long time to hold your breath.

Feeling Good

Just a little something I thought of this morning and thought it was funny.  Hope you find it amusing too. – Chris

Tom walked in the office as he had for five years.  Quiet and almost irritable.  He needed his cup of coffee.  Everyone knew not to talk to him until he had at least one cup of coffee.  But there was something different about him today.  Nobody could quite pin it down. 

Finally a brave soul in the break room saw him and couldn’t contain himself any longer. 

“How ya feelin’ today, Tom?” he asked.

Tom looked at him, coffee cup unsipped still in his hand, and then looked at the half-dozen people sitting around shooting the bull before the boss came in.  Suddenly tremolo strings started playing from out of nowhere.  Tom put his coffee cup down and everyone looked around amazed wondering where the music was coming from and Tom burst into song

Tom looked directly at him, “Birds flyin’ high, you know how I feel.” He looked at another guy sitting down, “Sun up in the sky, you know how I feel,” he sang.  He looked at Louise who always wore too much old lady perfume, “Breeze driftin’ by, you know how I feel,” He looked up at the ceiling to where the music seemed to be coming from, “It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life……for me.” He looked at Sara, an attractive woman, and his gaze pierced her and sent goosebumps rocketing up her arms.  “And I’m feelin’ good.” The tremolo strings turned into a slow raunchy burlesque style big band, Sara instantly started blushing, shivers going up her spine, and he continued to sing the song.

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel,
River running free, you know how I feel,
Blossom on a tree, you know how I feel,

People filed in from all over the office wondering what was going on.  Men looked at him as if he was crazy.  Women looked at him as if he was Michael Buble. 

When he finished the song, in grand fashion, everyone looked at him as a different man.  Tom grabbed his coffee and began to walk out of the break room as if nothing had happened.  Amazed, the guy who asked him how he was feeling said, “Geez, you have a good date last night or something?”

Tom stopped, put the coffee cup down again, and everyone held their breath waiting to see what was going to happen.  1960s big band music started playing, lots of brass, he spun around on his heels and started to sing another song again…

How lucky can one guy be?
I kissed her and she kissed me.
Like the fella said, ‘Ain’t that a kick in the head?’
The room was completely black,
I hugged her and she hugged back.
Like the sailor said, quote, ‘Ain’t that a hole in the boat?’

Tom crooned all the women that had shown up.  The men stood off to one side not believing a thing they were seeing.  Tom was like a different man.  Transformed into a crooner with a voice as smooth as velvet. Tom looked at Sara, the attractive woman he sang to from the first song, and gave her a sultry look with a crooked smile…

She’s telling me we’ll be wed,
She’s picked out a king size bed.
I couldn’t feel any better or I’d be sick.
Tell me quick.  Ain’t love a kick,
Oh tell me quick, Ain’t love a kick, in the head”

She smiled and blushed, as did many of the women there.  Some fanned themselves with their hands. For a few minutes they all forgot they had husbands or boyfriends and they saw a young Dean Martin singing to them.

The song ended, the music from nowhere stopped and Tom turned around, grabbed his coffee and walked off as if nothing had happened.  What no body saw was that as he rounded the corner, he had the wickedest seductive smile on his face.