Month: November 2017

Commandeer the Garbage Truck

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“You’re so tight, you squeak when you walk. I want to get paid. Can you at least give me an allowance?” pouted Joey G.

Farlo, had the B & W in cruise control at 95 miles an hour through a series of hospital, residential, and high end shopping zones where the maximum speed was 30 miles an hour. He was talking on his cell phone, looking occasionally at Joey G, nodding his head, and then balanced the steering wheels between his knees and started texting. His traffic violations exponentially adding up.

Farlo continued texting. He turned toward Joey G. Joey G screamed, grabbed hold of the steering wheel and pulled it sharply to the right, avoiding getting broadsided by a city garbage truck. The B & W instead, went through the plate glass window of Rokowski’s finest jewelry. The B & W came a rest with its hood smashed into a case holding expensive diamond engagement rings.

“I suppose you’re going to scream at me and give me a gig for saving your life. I don’t care anymore. Gig me. Scream at me. Make me do pushups. It doesn’t matter.”

“I was talking to Filo. You came up in our conversation. That’s all you need to know. BTW, you passed the toughness test, Joey G. You don’t care anymore. Let’s go, we’ll commandeer the garbage truck. You commandeer it. Use Tina, I’ll be right behind you. This is your first solo test.”

“Filo was talking about me? I passed the toughness test?” Joey G, beaming with pride, was out of the B & W first, Tina followed Joey out the passenger door. He sprinted out of the jewelry shop and headed down 4th Ave toward the city garbage truck that was parked at the curb with the driver and her assistant pointing at the jewelry store.

It took one minute, thirty-three seconds according to Farlo for Joey G to reach the garbage truck.

Joey G came to stop in front of the garbage truck workers, he said, “Police, the name is Martinez, I’m commandeering the truck, we’re on an emergency call.”

The fully figured, radiantly beautiful, African American woman garbage truck driver said, “Not so fast Martinez, who’s going to pick the trash on 4th Ave? These people have an expectation of the garbage department. We have high standards even though we pick up refuse.”

Joey G looked around for Farlo. There was no Farlo. He looked around for Tina. Tina was two stops ahead sniffing at garbage bags from Bubba’s Barbeque Shoppe.

Joey G said the first thing that came into his mind, “Don’t worry about the garbage, we’ll take care of it as soon as we respond to the emergency.”

The garbage truck driver looked at Joey G. “You don’t look like a Martinez, you’re too white.”

“I’m full bloodied Mexican Senorita. If you have time, why don’t we meet at O’Rourke’s for a margarita after my shift, say 9 p.m.?”

“Only a cool Mexican dude would hand me that line. The truck is yours, cool Mexican dude, see you at O’Rourke’s.

Joey climbed into the cab of the garbage truck. He called for Tina. Tina came galloping down 4th Ave. In two bounds, she was in the truck, the remains of three mostly eaten beef ribs from Bubba’s Barbeque Shoppe in her mouth.

He put the garbage truck in gear when the passenger door opened. Farlo jumped in as Joey was pulling out. “Good work Kid. Who’s going to pick up the garbage? The city garbage department has high standards.”

“Martinez?” Joey asked.

“I’ve got her from 8 to 9. I have Margaret from 9:30 to 10:30 and Kelly from 11 to closing.”

“You’re nuts, they’ll kill you. You can’t treat them that way,” said Joey G.

“You think they’ll mind when I give them a ring from Rokowski’s?”

“You stole the rings? You’re a thief on top of everything else,” said Joey.

“Don’t call me a thief until you walk a mile in my shoes,” said Farlo.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Joey driving within the legal speed limit.

“Who the hell knows. It usually works and generates lots of sympathy,” said Farlo.

“Thanks for the tip. Do you mind it if I occasionally use it?” asked Joey.

“Not at all,” said Farlo.

“I think I’m getting the hang of working with you. The garbage truck driver is meeting me at O’Rourke’s at 9. Do you have an extra ring?”

Farlo looked at his cell phone. It’s 7:40. I’ll never make it in time for Martinez. I’m going to call and move her to midnight to closing. I’ll move Kelly back to 10 to 11:45, and I’ll put Margaret in from 8:30 to 9:45. Don’t bother me while I text. It’s getting complicated.”

“Alameda is five minutes away. How do you want to handle the crack house?”

“I’m dealing in human relations issues, don’t bother me,” said Farlo.

How will Farlo juggle three dates on the same night? Will the rescue Harry J? Do they even care about Harry J? Who will pick up the trash on 4th Ave.?

Need Great Advice? Watch This Video

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For most of my life I had a valued, trusted advisor, Babe, my wife. When she passed, I entered a vacuum, I trusted Babe to give me honest, objective advice. I trusted her to not pull the punches. And, she advised me. It didn’t matter if I wanted to hear what she said or not. She gave me her honest opinion. Now, I’m flying solo, where is my advisor? The speaker in this brief YouTube video gave me the answer. If you’re seeking excellent advice when making a decision, this YouTube video is for you.

I Don’t Want To Compound My Felonies

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Farlo’s driving the black and white, Joey is in the passenger seat, Tina is sitting on Joey’s lap with her head hanging out the window. Her tongue flying in the wind, her ears flapping. Farlo ignores stop signs, red lights, orange turning red lights, photo enforced red light intersections and signs prohibiting left turns, right turns, U turns, and one-way streets. Joey’s eye lids appear to be super glued together.

“Let me know when we get to the crack house,” he murmured.

“I’m worried about you, Chico. You’ll get the sniff of crack and fall off the wagon,” said Farlo clipping an SUV stopping a red light.

“What’s eating you, Chico?” said Farlo.

“What’s with the Chico bit? My name’s Joey, not Chico. You clipped the SUV, are you going to stop and exchange papers?”

“Why, Chico?”

“Stop calling me Chico and get this thing off my lap,” Joey Demanded.

Farlo did a quarter turn of his head toward Joey, “Joey doesn’t work unless it’s matched with a last name. What’s your last name? I don’t remember you telling me.”

“I thought you knew everything about me. You’re not so smart. You act like a rabid dog. You don’t think things through. That’s why we’re in deep trouble. I do not want to be in the same cell as you when we go to prison. BTW, it’s Ginarco.”

“I like it. From now on, you’re Joey G. That’s a name with an attitude. Now act like it,” growled Farlo and he turned the black and white into a Starbucks lot. He parked the car, reached over to the glove compartment, fished around, smiled at what his hand touched and pulled out Martinez’s police department credit card.

“Let’s go in and order. We need our energy if we’re going hit a crack house. I’m going to get a half dozen of somethings with meat, eggs and cheese for Tina.”

“What if they ask for ID?”

“Where’s your attitude Joey G? Use it,” snarled Farlo.

Tina heard the words meat, eggs, and cheese and jumped off Joey G’s lap and headed to the back seat where she sat on her haunches eagerly expecting a lavish meal.

Farlo opened the door, got out, stretched his arms over his head, wiggled his back, heard it click in place and turned toward the car. He glared at Joey G sitting in the passenger seat, still buckled. “What do you think you’re doing Joey G? Get your butt out here or you don’t eat or drink.”

“I don’t want to compound the ten felonies we’ve committed.”

“I’m signing your name to the voucher. Your butt is cooked and I’m going to char it,” snapped Farlo.

Joey G unbuckled, got out of the B & W and slammed the door. “That’s it. Give me the card,” he demanded. His fists were clenched.

“You’re going have to take it from me. Let’s see how tough you are, Joey G.”

Joey G came rushing at Farlo, his eyes closed, his arms flailing, throwing punches from every angle. Farlo sat down on a chair at an outside table and watched Joey G flail off the sidewalk and fall onto the drive through roadway.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was going to crash?” Joey G said siting on his butt looking at the tear in his sweatpants, and dabbing at his bruised knee with part of the sweatpants fabric.

“You know who wore those pants before you? You might be dabbing an infectious disease into your system. You don’t think of possibilities, Joey G.”

“I do to.”

“Do not. I’m hungry. Let’s get some coffee, food and talk about what we’re going to do when we hit the crack house.”

Farlo and Joey G stepped into Starbucks. We’re here to get our coffee, grub, and rescue Harry J in the next forty-five minutes if I’m going to make it back in time to meet Martinez at O’Rourke’s. It’s doable if you don’t screw things up again.”

“How did I screw things up?”

“Do I have to remind you of your stupid karate move?”

“I was channeling Bruce Lee.”

“It looked like you were channeling Big Bird.”

“That was before I was known as Joey G.”

The beautiful dance major female barista looked at Farlo, then Joey G. He said, “Officer, this homeless bum with you?”

“No. He followed me in looking for a handout. His shopping cart is parked in a handicap zone.”

The barista,  looked at Joey G, “Don’t give me any trouble.”

Farlo winked at the barista, and said, “If he does, I’ll use him for field goal practice. You give him a coffee and an egg sandwich on me.”

“Besides being the most handsome cop I’ve ever seen, you’re a humanitarian. I get off at ten, want to meet at O’Rourke’s?

Farlo gave the barista a smile that would melt an iceberg.”

“Everything’s on the house, what’s your name? Mine is Kelly. Here’s my cell number,” said Kelly scribbling her cell phone number on the back of the receipt.

“Farlo.”

“Not the Farlo. For real?”

“For real.”

“OMG,” Kelly clutched her heart with her two hands.

Joey G gasped, stifled an acid reflux, and headed for the restroom.

Five minutes later they were in the B & W and headed to Alameda and the crack house.

Will they rescue Harry J? Is it too late for Harry J? Did Joey G find his groove? Who’s Filo

Chase Your Dream – Don’t Quit

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A dream is a dream until you and I make a commitment to achieve the dream. The dream may be far off, but each day, with committed effort, we draw closer to the dream. We won’t let discouragement stop us. We won’t let naysayers convince us to quit. We have a dream and the desire to chase it to the end. The following short YouTube video will inspire you to keep chasing the dream. Go For It.

He’s A Righteous Dude

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Farlo slid to a stop, ten feet into the East wing. He pivoted, military style, turned and waited for Joey to reach him. Tina sat on her haunches. Joey walked toward them like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

“What do you think you’re doing, kid?”

“I’m getting into character,” said Joey.

“And, what character are you channeling?”

“Rocky, from the Rocky III or the Rocky IV or the Rocky V movie. I still trying to get it down.”

“You look worse than the old guy, Mickey, who played his trainer. If you’re going to run with the big dogs, you got to pick up the pace. It’s about time you developed a character with an  attitude.”

“I don’t mind running with toy poodles,” said Joey.

Tina growled at the word, poodle.

Farlo grabbed hold of Joey’s bicep and squeezed, “Let’s go, Kermit.”

“Yeow! That hurts, let go of me. I am not a frog,” hollered Joey loud enough to cause two beefy looking attendants at the end of the hall to look up from their smart phones.

A baldheaded attendant with a swastika tattooed on his skull called out, “You need some help with that frog?”

“I’m not a frog. Ouch, let go,” said Joey.

Farlo yanked on Joey’s arm and started walking toward the attendants. Tina walked alongside Farlo, her eyes on the swastika dude. The other dude’s face was a cross between a pit bull and an angry Rottweiler.

Joey whispered, “You’re going to get us killed. They’re killers, I can tell.”

Farlo whispered back in his gravelly voice, “We got them outnumbered, they’re three of us. That is, if I count you. Counting you is against all reason and logic.”

“Don’t count on me. I want to make love not war,” said Joey.

“With your wimpy attitude you think you’ll ever have a woman fall for you? We both know the answer, so don’t make a lame excuse.”

“Where you going with this piece of crap masquerading as a frog?” the Nazi said.

“I’m Maxwell, this piece of crap can identify Harry J. Where is he?” Farlo commanded.

The Rottweiler dude said, “You’re not Maxwell. I know Maxwell he busted me for sexual assault, armed robbery, and attempted murder. I got probation because I only had ten priors. My partner is my intern. Who the hell are you?” The Rottweiler took a menacing step toward Farlo.

Farlo stood his ground, he let go of Joey’s arm. Tina sat on her haunches awaiting a command. Farlo put his right hand to his chin. Then said, “You got a mother?”

“So. Everybody got a mother.”

“She alive?”

“She’s doing time at the woman’s prison. You want to make something out of it?”

“No. I wanted to know where I send the sympathy card.”

“The Nazi took a step toward Farlo. You’re going to die and your mama ain’t going to get a sympathy card.”

Farlo said, “I wasn’t going to buy one, I was going to send an e-card. They’re free.”

“No kidding?” said the Rottweiler.

“I didn’t know that,” said the Nazi.

At that moment, Joey jumped two feet in the air, landed, stumbled, fell to a knee and came up in a karate stance he learned from watching an old Bruce Lee movie. “Hi Yee,” he screamed.

The two attendants started laughing. Farlo looked at Joey and shook his head. He turned back to the two mean dudes, “What do you say we get this done, then go out and have a beer. First two rounds are on me.”

The Nazi said, “You are righteous man. I got no quarrel with a dude who wants to drink with me.”

“Me neither. I can’t wait to tell mom about you when I visit her on Sunday,” chimed in the Rottweiler.

“Can I come?” Asked Joey.

“No,” The Nazi, Rottweiler, and Farlo said in unison. Tina barked.

“I’d like to help you out with Harry J. That was his room over there. But, they took him over to the crack house on Alameda. What’s your real name?” asked the Rottweiler.

“Farlo.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Nazi

“Me too,” said the Rottweiler.

“Don’t tell Filo on us,” said the Nazi.

“Don’t hurt us,” said the Rottweiler.

“Can we still have our beers?” they both asked in unison.

“Will this ever end? Who’s Filo?” asked Joey.

Farlo fist bumped the two guys. Pulled out his smart phone. He called Duffy, owner of Duffy’s. Told Duffy to let the two guys drink as much as they wanted and to put it on Filo’s tab.

Poor Harry J. Will they rescue him? Who’s Filo? Will Joey get his act together?

Falling In Love With Writing

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A dozen years ago I read Ray Bradbury’s book, The Zen of Writing. His book turned the way I thought about writing on it’s head. I read it once, and I read it again. I read it every year to learn again from one who was in love with writing. In this short 2 minute YouTube video of Ray Bradbury, I hope you catch the fever of writing with love for life.

Do I Have To Tell You Everything?

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Farlo, Tina, and Joey stood outside the black and white. Joey half turned and stared at the black and white. “Tina’s not going to be happy. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t figure out you’re a fake and tosses your butt in the can.” Joey gloated.

Farlo not looking at Joey, said, “I got a hundred dollars says she asks me to go to her place for a glass of wine after O’Rourke’s.”

“You know I don’t have any money. You quit my job for me. You haven’t paid me a cent in the three weeks we’ve known each other. How can I make a bet with money I don’t have?”

“The only reason you haven’t been paid is that Filo knows you can’t handle cash.”

“How does Filo know that?” asked Joey.

“I told him,” growled Farlo. Then he added, “Give me your left arm.”

“Why? What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to cut it off and beat you over the head with it. What do you think I’m going to do with it?”

Joey stuck out his left arm, “You’re kidding, right?”

Farlo snapped the cuffs back on Joey, “Let’s go punk.”

“Why the attitude?” said Joey.

“I’m getting into character, don’t take it personal,” growled Farlo.

“What’s my character?” said Joey.

“Do I have to tell you everything?”

“Un huh,” said Joey.

“You’re a punk. I’m dragging you along to identify Harry J. You’re turning state’s evidence against him,” said Farlo.

“What did Harry do? What did I do?”

“It’s all fake, you didn’t do anything. Make it up. Wing it. Tap dance your way through. Do you want me to write Cliff Notes on your arm?”

“That’s how I got through high school,” said Joey.

“I have no clue what Filo saw in you. No one on the team wanted to take you in. Filo overruled us. He’s the boss.”

“Filo knows greatness. Who’s Filo?” asked Joey.

“Never mind, punk. It’s go time,” snarled Farlo dragging Joey to the door.

A chubby, retired Walmart employee now supplementing his income as a security guard blocked the door’s entrance, “Where are you going?”

Farlo took one look at the guy and said, “One of two places, I going through you or kicking your ass and walking through unimpeded.” Tina growled.

“Sorry officer, simple misunderstanding. Nice doggy,” said the guard and stepped out of the way.

Farlo pulled Joey through and pushed him. Joey stumbled, looked up at Farlo, “A little less realism would be a big help.”

A very official svelte looking woman in a navy blue skirt, navy blue suit jacket and white silk blouse, and stiletto heels came rushing over. “Just hold it there. Who are you? Who is this putrid looking creature in handcuffs? Dogs are not allowed in here.”

Farlo glanced at her. “You’re not bad looking. If you let your hair down, ditched the business suit, and wore a little makeup I could dig you. As it is, I’m tied up with Officer Martinez tonight. She’s got the look. You could learn a lot from her.”

“What are you talking about?” said the woman.

“I’m talking about what makes the world go around and around and around.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the woman.

“I’ll tell you who does?” said Farlo.

“Who?” asked the woman mesmerized by Farlo’s deep blue eyes.

“Harry J. He’ll tell you all about it. Where is he?”

“Harry J? Harry J? Why? Why? Why?” she stuttered, her eyes unable to walk away from Farlo’s magnetic pull.

“Your digital recording is stuck on two tracks, sister. You want to take the heat on this caper, you won’t like women’s prison. You’ll have to wear a jump suit that wasn’t purchased at Saks.”

“Oh dear,” said the woman.

“The last I saw him, he was in Room 112 or was it Room 117 or was it 100. They keep moving him around. My name’s Margaret Johnson. I’m the activities director. Do you really think I would be more attractive with your tips?”

“You’d knock my socks off?” said Farlo.

“What are you doing about 8 tonight?”

“What about me?” asked Joey.

“Your eyes look like fish eyes. I don’t date sardines, kid.”

Farlo looked at Joey, shook his head, “You got to learn when to keep quiet, kid. You don’t have a clue.”

“Will you teach me?” begged Joey.

“We’ve got to rescue Harry J first. Let’s move out.”

Farlo and Tina started down the east wing. Joey trailed behind. Margaret watched and blew a kiss toward Farlo, he turned, smiled and stuck up his arm to make as if he caught it.

Will they ever rescue Harry J? Who is Harry J and why is he important? Will Farlo and Margaret get together? What about Martinez? Will Joey ever meet Filo? Who’s Filo?

It’s Between You And You

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You and I have 24 hours in our day. You and I have 1440 minutes in our day. And, we have 86,400 seconds in our day. We all start from the same starting line each day. Where we finish is influenced by the effort we put into each of those seconds. Get Inspired with the 2 minute YouTube video by Hall of Fame football player Ray Lewis’s motivational talk on effort.

Catch The Writing Bug

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I knew I wanted to write in second grade. I caught the writing bug and it stayed with me. I think everyone who blogs has the writing bug. If you’re like me, you have to write. It’s they way we express our creativity. The following short YouTube video features the late Elmore Leonard offering writers free advice on writing. Learn from a master.

It’s All Show Biz

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Farlo cut in front of Honest Johns Emergency Plumbing truck, which caused honest John and his son who was on probation for possession with intent to sell to swerve in front of a drop off mom who was rushing from the elementary school where she dropped off her two kids. She was going to Gold’s Gym where she had a 9:30 a.m. appointment with her personal trainer and lover. The drop off mom, wanting to avoid hitting honest John, swerved into the passing lane where she sideswiped a senior citizen bus headed to the Bingo Hall for a Bingo Tournament. The senior bus back ended a farm to market truck carrying 750 cantaloupes that rolled out of the truck and crossed the highway causing a series of accidents, the likes of which had not been seen since the great fog, two weeks earlier.

Joey was looking out the back window, “You got to see this, Farlo. It’s mayhem. People are crashing into each other, cantaloupes are all over the road. Seven traffic helicopters are hovering over the scene. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you caused it, but it happened behind us. Go figure.”

“That’s what happens, kid, when people don’t care about each other. Me? I do my best to drive carefully and always look out for the other guy,” said Farlo as he took Exit 231, went down the ramp, at the end of the ramp, he accelerated through the stop sign, and hung a left against a sign that said NO LEFT TURN. An oncoming driver avoided broadsiding Farlo and veered into a fire hydrant. The resulting geyser left a third of the town without water.

Joey had his face pressed against the window, his one free fist banging against the unbreakable glass, he mumbled nearly incoherently, “You need to be locked up. If I ever get out of here alive, I’ll tell it all,” screamed Joey.

“Who you gonna tell it to, kid? Your mommy? You’re naïve. You haven’t lived. You have no sense of adventure. You want life served on a platter with all the trimmings, that’s what you want. To you a six pack beer and a delivery pizza tops your bucket list. Life doesn’t work that way. Some days you’re lucky if you get a bad cup of coffee. Other days, it’s a good one if a bird doesn’t crap on your head. You see where I’m going?” snarled Farlo.

“Honestly? I have no idea where you’re going. Give me a hint,” said Joey.

“Where have you been for the past 24 hours, we’re going to the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility to rescue Harry J. You’re not the brightest bulb on the planet. I’d guess you’re a few cookies short of a dozen. It’s what the dope did to your pathetic brain. I’m working with silly putty instead of a perfect piece of marble, see what I’m saying.”

“I’m tired of your insults, Farlo. I’m not silly putty, I know what’s going on,” said Joey.

Farlo turned down Blanco and into a residential neighborhood. A four way stop loomed fifty feet in front of him, three cars were in line waiting their turn. Farlo hit the accelerator, turned the wheels to right, went up over the curb, and drove across three lawns leaving a trail of tire marks in perfectly manicured grass.

When he exited the last lawn, he narrowly avoided two joggers, flipped them off as he turned right on Oak Street. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw one of the joggers taking out her iPhone and snapping photos of his black and white,

“Martinez is not going to like this. She might not be in a good mood when I get to O’Rourke’s. BTW, you know what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. I was trying to make conversation,” said Joey.

“Last Chance is two blocks up, just past the cemetery. If we don’t save Harry J, it’s going to look bad on your report. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, kid. Filo doesn’t tolerate failure.”

“Me! Why me? You’re the nut job. I’m spilling my guts to Filo,” said Joey.

“Look in the mirror, kid. You think Filo’s going to believe you? He’d believe I won the 2 billion Powerball before he’d believe you.”

“It’s 2 billion? Can we stop and buy a ticket? I got a question before we go in, what’s your last name? Is it Maxwell like you told Martinez?” asked Joey.

“The name’s Farlo. That’s it. It’s like Adele, Madonna, Sinatra.”

“They all had two names, what’s your other name?” asked Joey.

“It’s their show biz name. Here’s a tip for you, kid. It’s all show biz. It’s all a struggle to grab the glitter and the glitz. That’s what we’re after, the glitter and the glitz.”

“I thought we’re after Harry J.”

Farlo ignored Joey, pulled up to the guardhouse in front of the gate, the black and white’s lights flashing, Farlo lowered his window, and barked at the guard who was checking his Facebook page, “Open the gate.”

“Let me see your badge,” said the guard still staring at his Facebook page.

“Tina,” commanded Farlo.

Tina jumped on Farlo’s lap, stuck her head out the window, growled, her lips curled back over her gums, Farlo holding onto her collar faux restraining her. “This is my badge.”

“Open it.”

“Yes, sir,” said the guard.

Farlo drove down the half-mile driveway and pulled the flashing black and white under the portico. He grabbed hold of a small canister of pepper spray, got out of the car, Tina followed him. Farlo walked around the black and white, opened the rear door, removed Joey’s handcuffs and helped him out of the car.

“Listen up. It’s up to you if we are going to pull this off. Follow my lead,” ordered Farlo.

“That’s all I’ve been doing is following your lead and look where it’s got me. I’ve been handcuffed, classified as a dangerous bed wetter, I’m dressed in Goodwill clothes. I look like I’m homeless. I lost my job. And, I’m running around with some guy with only one name.”

“Perfect cover. Let’s go.”

Will they rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo? Will Joey spill his guts to Filo?

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