fiction

I’m Not Stealing – I’m Borrowing

by

Farlo, Tina, and Joey stood across the street from Precinct 12. “Are you crazy, we’re in front of the police station. Every cop in the city is looking for us.” Said Joey.

“Wrong, every cop in the city is looking for Dr. Big Bucks,” answered Farlo.

“What are we doing here? Harry J’s not in the police station.”

“We’re going to steal a police car,” said Farlo as if he were ordering a tall coffee from Starbucks.

“You’ve cross the line. You cannot steal a police car. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong,” complained Joey.

“Technically, I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing. The police can have it back when I’m through with it. It’s a field decision,” said Farlo. He started across the street, Tina at his side. Joey trailing behind.

They crossed the street, stood for a moment at the bottom of the steps to Precinct 12. Farlo turned to Joey, “We’re going in, follow my lead.”

Farlo opened the metal reinforced door, walked through a metal detector, towing Joey along with him.  Farlo walked up to the desk sergeant, dragging Joey, who was like an obstinate child not wanting to go to bed. The desk sergeant, was a young, dark skinned Hispanic woman. Her police shirt took Joey’s mind off being dragged into the station. She looked up from her smart phone at Farlo, Tina, and Joey.

Before she could speak, Farlo said, “Maxwell, 23rd Precinct. This freak escaped from the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility. He’s disoriented, confused, and was carrying when I got him. I wouldn’t be surprised he is a bed wetter.”

“I am not a bed wetter,” said Joey.

The desk sergeant peered over her glasses and stared at Joey, “I learned about bed wetters at the academy. You’ve got all the signs. You’re a danger to all of us. Listen up, kid, the first step is to get out of denial. Admit you’re a bed wetter and life will get better for you.”

Joey started pointing at Farlo, “He’s not a police detective. His name is Farlo. He works for a guy named Filo. He wants to steal one of your cars.”

“You described this guy perfectly, Maxwell. He’s got all the symptoms. He should be in a secure lock down. He’s certifiable. By the way, I’m off in three hours, you want to meet for drinks at O’Rourke’s?”

Farlo glanced at the desk sergeants name plate and said, “I’d like nothing better Martinez. First, I need to requisition a car to take him back. I’ll return the car and we can go to O’Rourke’s together.”

“His name is not Maxwell. He’s lying. He’s going to steal the car. I’ll take a lie detector test. Ouch, that hurts. Let go of my arm,” screamed Joey.

“Next time it will really hurt where I’ll squeeze you. Zip it, kid,” growled Farlo. Tina barked.

“Cute dog, Maxwell. What’s her name?” said Martinez.

“Tina,” said Farlo.

“Get out of here, that’s my name. Hold on a second.” Martinez made a call. A minute later said, “Number 14 in the rear lot. It’s gassed up and running. Don’t be late, Maxwell,” Martinez winked.

Five minutes later, Farlo pulled out of the lot. Tina sat in the passenger seat. Joey was handcuffed in the rear seat.

“You’re going too far, Farlo. I deserve better,” complained Joey.

“Suck it up. You sound like you think life is fair. Fair only happens in baseball. I don’t suppose you never played sports,” growled Farlo from the front seat.” Tina barked.

“Did too. I play fantasy football.”

Farlo shook his head and pulled the black and white  out of the police lot, took a left, turned on the lights and siren and turned headed toward the expressway. “Listen up, Kid. When we get there, we’re going in. Pretend you’re in cuffs. Act like you belong in their dump.”

“I’m on it,” said Joey.

“I’m worried, Tina,” said Farlo. Tina barked twice. Translated from dog language on Google Translate, it means, “me too.”

Will they rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo? Will Farlo meet Tina for drinks?

Is This A Remake of The Blues Brothers?

by

Farlo tooled the BMW down West River Road at an easy 70 miles per hour in a 35 zone. He hit the brakes, turned the wheels quickly to the right, went up over the curb, knocked a headlight off against a hydrant and came to a stop behind a car in a MacDonald’s drive through lane. He lowered his window.

“Welcome, can I take your order,” said a voice coming out of a black square with holes in it.

“Three Big Mac’s, hold the lettuce, hold the mayo, hold the tomato, hold the bun.”

“That’s highly unusual, sir. You’re missing most of the calories and don’t forget the best part, the saturated fat.”

“I like my Big Macs just the way they’re made,” said Joey.

“They’re not for you. They’re for Tina.”

“You treat me worse than a dog,” whined Joey.

“Tina’s more faithful. Tina’s always got my back. Tina’s smarter than you.” He turned back to the black box, “I’m not moving unless I get it my way.”

“Would you like to supersize your order, sir?”

“What the hell does that mean, I don’t have all day,” snapped Farlo.

“You can get a large fry, and a fried apple pie with your order, along with an added sugar 48-ounce drink, Sir.”

“Yes, hollered,” Joey.

“No,” hollered Farlo, louder than Joey.

“Please pull up to our pickup window, sir.”

“Give me those credit cards you pulled out of the glove compartment.”

“You’re committing a felony,” said Joey.

“I already committed a felony, I’m compounding it. Think of it this way, we’re doing a job that’s got to be done and on the side, we’re teaching Dr Big Bucks a big lesson. He’s done messing with the little guy.”

“I consider myself a little guy,” said Joey.

“You don’t count. Suck it up. We’re on a mission,” said Farlo.

“Is this a remake of the Blues Brothers?” asked Joey.

Farlo ignored Joey, slipped an American Express credit card to cashier, and said, “Add a five-hundred-dollar tip for yourself.”

“Thank you, sir. You are a saint. This will help me with my tuition,” said the cashier.

“Oh hell, make it a thousand. Stop crying. Give me my order, we’re on a mission,” said Farlo.

“Thank you, Mr. Belushi.”

Farlo left rubber as he peeled out of the fast food parking lot. He took a left on Sanger.

“Why are you going down Sanger, it’s out of the way?” asked Joey, who every other ten seconds turned his head toward the back seat and tried to steal a whiff of Tina’s meal, which was already consumed, digested and moving its’ way through the intestinal tract.

“You got to learn to think strategically if you’re going to work with me long term,” said Farlo. His words sounded like freight car a truck rolling over a gravel road.

“I don’t want to work with you, short or long term,” said Joey.

“Too bad, it was your one shot at advancement in life. When we rescue Harry J I’m going to drop you off, clean out my gear and leave you to rot. You’ll be jobless, kicked out of your home, living on a cardboard box under a bridge, and within two weeks standing on a corner with a sign reading, I don’t work, but I need food.

Joey sat silently staring straight ahead. “You ran a red light.”

“Purposely, fool. It was a red-light photo radar light. Sanger has ten red light photo radar lights and I plan to run red on every one of them.”

“Don’t you think you’re carrying this karma thing a little too far?”

“No. My only moral dilemma is that Harry’s life is in danger. If he was a safe hostage, I could really do some karma payback.”

“Did Karma ever pay you back?” asked Joey.

“I got stuck with you,” growled Farlo.

Nine more traffic lights, nine more red light photo radar lights. Farlo hung a left onto Maple. “You’re going the wrong way down a one-way street.”

“I know. I’m making up time we lost going down Sanger.”

“There’s a FedEx truck, watch it,” screamed Joey.

Farlo swerved onto the sidewalk, knocking over a trash can, clipping a no parking sign, and plowing through eight large black plastic bags of trash, one of which stuck to the BMW’s muffler.

Joey turned and looked out the back window, “There’s a cop car with lights flashing about one-hundred yards behind. We’re going to the slammer. I don’t want to go to prison.”

Farlo glanced in the rearview mirror. Quickly glanced over to Joey, “Hang on tight kid, don’t scream, when we come to a stop, hit the street running and follow Tina and me, it’s your only chance.”

Before Joey could say a word, Farlo, accelerated to 80 mph, ran two stop signs, then cut the wheels to the right, hit the brakes forcing the BMW to go into a controlled skid. The BMW turned sideways, teetered on two wheels, before settling down on four wheels blocking all traffic on Maple. Farlo unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and jumped out. Tina followed. Joey, a bit more than a tad slower, followed fifteen yards behind, “Wait for me, or I’ll tell Filo,” he hollered.

Will they rescue Harry J? Will Joey quit working with Farlo? Who’s Filo?

You’re Going To Get Us Killed

by

The dark green, new BMW, with vanity plates reading DrBigBucks turned onto the freeway. Farlo slid the BMW into the driving lane between a 16-wheeler loaded with frozen chicken and oversized unmarked van carry ten undocumented workers.

“Watch it. You’re going to get us killed,” screamed Joey involuntarily tensing his body, closing his eyes and placing both of his palms on the dashboard. The blast from the horn of the 16-wheeler caused Joey to reach for the door handle. It wouldn’t budge.

“You’re going nowhere, kid. I got it all under control,” said Farlo as he pulled into the next lane cutting off an oversized pickup truck. The pickup truck driver pulled into the third lane and pulled even with the BMW. Farlo lowered his window.

“What do you think you’re doing? I don’t want to get involved in road rage,” pleaded Joey.

“Too late, kid. You’re in the middle of it and you’re not going anywhere. Never back down. Don’t take prisoners. Those have been my live by mottos for years,” Growled Farlo, with one eye on the road and the other eye on the oversized red pickup truck.

“You’re nuts,” said Joey.

“Get in line, kid. You’re not the first person to say that. You got to be a little nuts to work for Filo,” said Farlo.

“Who’s Filo,” asked Joey.

“Later, Kid. I think it’s go time,” Farlo watched the passenger side window of the oversized red pickup roll down.

Joey undid his seatbelt and slide to the floor, hoping any bullets would miss him.

The driver of the oversized red pickup looked over at the BMW with the vanity plate DrBigBucks, raised his automatic and pointed it toward the BMW.

The driver and Farlo went eyeball to eyeball. The driver hollered, “Farlo? What are you doing driving that piece of crap?”

Farlo said, “Mad Dog, where you fighting tonight?”

Joey hollered from the floor, “You know each other?”

Mad Dog said, “I can’t, I thought you were DrBigBucks. I tore my ACL and he wouldn’t operate on me because I didn’t have the right insurance.”

“Don’t worry, Mad Dog. I’ll text Filo and he’ll set you up with the best ortho in the business, no charge. As for DrBigBucks. His karma lesson is only beginning. You hear anything about Harry J?”

The line of traffic backing up behind Mad Dog and DrBigBucks was growing impatient. Horns began blaring. Sirens were heard in the distance. Mad Dog nodded and said something, but the noise from the other traffic was deafening. Farlo waved at Mad Dog and floored the accelerator.

“What did he say?” said Joey.

“I don’t know. I read his lips, but I’m not sure I got it all. Get off the floor and buckle up you pantywaist.”

“I am not a pantywaist. I used to shoot darts at the bar, before you entered my life.”

Farlo looked at Joey, shook his head, and veered to an off ramp, causing a dark blue Lexus to clip his left rear fender. The Lexus careened into the back of another Lexus that slammed into the back of a Mercedes.

Who’s Filo? Where’s Harry J? Who doesn’t Farlo know?

Lesson By Karma

by

Joey walked up and down the aisles of the 9th Ave Goodwill store. So many choices, he was a kid in a candy shop. The twelve patrons and eight workers in Goodwill considered him armed and dangerous and hid behind a counter. The manager went online and was checking Crime Stoppers. Joey stopped at a bin containing men’s boxers. He held a pair of boxers with palm tree designs against his waist, too big. He grabbed a pair of boxers with little poodles and held it against his waist, too small. And, just like Goldilocks, he held a pair of boxers with guppies and angelfish against his waist, and it was just right.

Farlo came up behind him, “You’re taking too much time, here’s your pants and shirt. Go into the restroom and change.”

“I don’t want to wear pink sweatpants and a hoodie with a toy poodle on front with a pink ribbon tied around its neck.

“Suck it up, kid. You’re showing your support to fight breast cancer. Think of other people besides yourself.”

“Who, for instance,” said Joey.

“Me, for instance. I don’t want to babysit you when I could be out with Nicole or my other girlfriend. Now move it. Harry J’s life is in danger and you’re worried about getting a call to appear on the cover of Men’s Magazine. You got another ten pounds to lose and muscle to build. Until then, leave the fantasy alone.”

“You won’t let up, will you?”

“No. Now hop to it before my size 12 finds a resting place,” snarled Farlo.

An hour later, Farlo, Tina, and Joey were outside the physician’s parking garage at University Hospital.

“People are staring at me. They think I’m a cross dresser,” complained Joey.

“Kid, you got to learn not to worry about what other people think,” Farlo snapped. Then he said, “You got any more complaints, take it to the complaint department. Right now, we’re going in and going to requisition a quality ride.”

“Just like that?” said Joey.

“Just like that,” answered Farlo as he ducked under the gate and was inside the parking garage. Tina followed, but did not have to duck under the gate. Joey hollered, I’ll wait outside and make sure the coast is clear.”

From inside the parking garage, “One more word, and Tina’s going to have a piece of rump steak, raw.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Farlo, Tina, and Joey walked up two flights of stairs. Farlo took them two at a time. Tina took them three at a time. Joey held onto the railing and took them one at a time.

“We almost there?” panted Joey as he neared the second-floor landing.

Farlo and Tina waited for him. “You’re an anchor, kid. You’re still out of shape.”

“True, but I’m getting better,” said Joey.

Farlo opened the door to the second level, he turned to his right and began walking down the rows of BMWs, Lexus, Mercedes, and an occasional Porsche,

“What are you looking for? They all look nice,” said Joey.

Farlo kept walking, Tina kept walking next to Farlo, and Joey trailed. Farlo stopped behind a new BMW, “This is the one I want.”

“Why did you choose this one?” asked Joey.

Farlo pointed to the vanity plate on the rear bumper of the BMW, DrBigBucks.

“Something wrong with that?” asked Joey.

“You ever deal with medical profession? They’re all about money, money, money. I’ll bet this jackass doesn’t do Medicare and only takes cash or gold standard insurance. Karma’s going teach Dr. Big Bucks a lesson.” Farlo reached into his pocket, pulled out a small black case, set it against the BMW’s door, tapped three times on the case’s screen, and the door unlocked. No alarm. Tina jumped in and went the backseat. Farlo slid in. Joey opened the passenger door and slid in.

“It still smells new,” said Joey.

Farlo didn’t answer.

Farlo placed the small black case against the starter button and tapped five different keys. The BMW came to life.”

“Where’d you buy that?” asked Joey.

Farlo turned to him, “At Amazon. I got it last year for $39.95 on Black Friday.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Right. Buckle up, kid.”

Where’s Harry J? Will they rescue him? Who’s Filo?

Where’s My Bagel?

by

Farlo, Tina, and Joey are walking down 3rd Avenue. It’s 3:30 a.m. Joey’s still dressed in his hospital gown. Joey glances at Farlo, “Where’s your cane? Where’s your limp? This whole thing is fake, isn’t it?”

Farlo kept walking. Tina kept walking next to Farlo. Joey stood still. “Hey, I’m talking to you, Farlo or whatever your name is. I’m not going anywhere until you answer my questions.” Joey folded his arms and stood in the middle of the sidewalk. His mind set. His eyes staring at the back of the receding Farlo.

Farlo kept walking. Tina kept walking next to Farlo. Joey kept staring. A gust of wind rising from the river caught Joey’s hospital gown and billowed out. At that moment, the El Huevos drove by and pulled alongside Joey. The passenger side window rolled down, “Hey man, you belong over on 8th ave.”

“The rear, passenger side window rolled down, “Nah, you don’t belong on 8th ave. You escape from the nut house? I bet there’s a reward for you.”

The passenger in the front seat said, “No reward, let’s turn him over to Sanchez, he’ll turn him into a mule and we get a cut of the drugs he brings across the border.” Laughter from inside the car.

Joey’s heart rate now at 120 and rising. Joey looked at the two gang members on the passenger side, and said, “I don’t speak Spanish.”

A voice from inside the car, “We’re not serious, man. We don’t speak Spanish either. We just use Spanish names because of the innate bias fools like you have against people of color.”

“You’re, you’re not the El Huevos? Stammered Joey.

“El Huevos? What fool gang would use a name means the eggs? What would make you think that? Another bias. No wonder Farlo abandoned you. We told him he’s wasting his time with you,” the voice from inside the car.

“You, you have a sign on the side of your car, it says, El Huevo’s Rule. You, you know Farlo?”

Another voice from inside the car, “Farlo’s the man.”

A bellowing command, sounding like the voice of thunder filled 3rd Ave. Get your sorry butt down here, double time or I’m going to hit you so hard on the top of your head you’ll be licking your toenails.” A loud bark followed the command.

From the passenger side window. “You are in big trouble, man. We got to split. We have midterms at the university today. By the way, what you’re wearing is not a good look.”

Joey took off down 3rd Ave at a full sprint. His hospital gown flowing making him look like a giant stingray on land. When he reached the corner of 3rd and Fagen, he saw Farlo halfway down Fagen, standing in front of a coffee and bagel food truck  near the subway entrance, Tina sitting beside him. Farlo was eating a bagel he held in his right hand, in his left hand, he held a steaming cup of coffee. Tina was drinking from a bowl of milk. She already scoffed five pieces of bacon.

Joey reached Farlo. Joey was out of breath, panting, sweat rolling down his face, “I’ll give you a pass this time on my questions. Where’s my bagel and coffee?”

“You missed breakfast, kid.” He turned to the cute twenty-five-year-old, red headed woman in the bagel and coffee food truck, “Can’t make it tonight, Nicole. I’m babysitting if you know what I mean?” Farlo nodding toward Joey.

“Know what you mean, Farlo. Maybe Saturday?” Nicole winked. Tina barked.

“You know her?” asked Joey incredulously.

“We’re off and on. Filo introduced us. I got somebody else now.”

“Huh? Who’s Filo? Who is the somebody else?”

Where’s Harry J? Who’s Filo?

She’s A Therapy Dog

by

Pablo backs the stolen ambulance to the rear entrance of the Patiently Insane Home. El Hombre steps out of the ambulance, reaches around his back with his left hand, feels his gun tucked between his pants and back. The heft of the gun give El Hombre a secure feeling, the same way a baby feels when you give it its pacifier.

Farlo’s watching El Hombre and thinks, too bad he wasn’t breast fed or given a pacifier when he was a baby, it’s why he’s all screwed up. Breast feed all babies and give them a pacifier when they cry and they won’t want to play with guns when they grow up.

Joey’s sitting up on the stretcher. He looks at Farlo deep in thought, “What are you thinking?”

Farlo looks over, “I bet you were breast fed.”

“How’d you know?”

“I know. And, every time you cried, your mom gave you a pacifier.”

“How’d you know?”

“You’re afraid of guns.”

“So?”

“Change of plans, kid. I told Pablo to bring a wheelchair. You’re going to sit in it and pretend your loco. It won’t be hard. Act natural,” said Farlo just as the back doors to ambulance swung open.

Pablo stood behind a wheel chair. El Hombre had his gun in his hand and was practicing a fast draw, western style.

Farlo looked at El Hombre, jumped off the back edge of the ambulance and walked over to El Hombre, “Try that fast draw one more time, I can outdraw you any day of the week and twice on Lunes, Martes, Miercoles, Viernes, and Sabado. I rest on Domingo.”

“You think you’re hot shit, Farlo. Where’s your gun?”

“It’s hidden. I can still reach it, and drop you before you can get a shot off. If you’re not man enough, put the gun away and get busy,” demanded Farlo.

“Nobody says I’m chicken. On the count of three draw. I’m going to be the bad dude that put Farlo down. One … Owe, oooh, aaah, stop, stop,” begged El Hombre. “You cheated man, you didn’t wait until I said three.”

“Tough. I’m keeping your gun. You mess this up tonight, I’m going to fix you so you can never be a father,” growled Farlo.

“Please man. I’m sorry. Keep the gun. I don’t want it.”

“Get your sorry butt off the ground and help Pablo bring Joey to the entrance door.”

Farlo, Pablo, and El Hombre stood by the door.  Tina stood next to Farlo. Farlo looked down the side of the building and saw scattered boxes. Rats were scurry in and out of the boxes carrying food refuse back to their rat’s nest. He motioned El Hombre and Pablo out of the way, pulled the gun out of his scrub’s waist band and fired five shots, one after the other. Five rats flipped up, over and landed still.

“That’s some shooting, man,” said El Hombre.

“That’s what I do to four legged and two legged rats, comprehende,” snarled Farlo.

“I’m cool.”

“Press the button. I don’t have all night,” said Farlo. Tina barked.

Joey got out of his wheelchair and pressed the button. Two minutes went by, nobody came. Farlo took out the gun and fired two shots into the lock. He turned to Pablo, “Wait 15 minutes then take off.” He got behind Joey, pushed him in, and entered a long, dismal corridor, barely lit with fifty watt bulbs. Cobwebs hung from anything that could anchor a cobweb.

Joey whispered, “A security guard is coming our way.”

“So?” said Farlo.

“What do I do?”

“Multiple choice: sing a song, go to sleep, let me whack you aside the head, or all the above.”

“I choose option B.”

The guard, about Farlo’s height, but paunchy, and wearing a ball cap that said security held up his hand, “Where are you going? You can’t have a dog in here.”

“This idiot tried to escape. I caught him just in time. I’m taking him back to his room. Tina is a therapy dog,” said Farlo in a low, gruff, no nonsense voice.

“I’ve never seen you around here. I never seen a dog around here either,” said the guard.

“I’ve never seen you around here, you new?” asked Farlo.

“Not me.”

“Me neither. Now get out of my way before I run your ass over. Or, sic Tina on you,” growled Farlo. T

“Hey, take it easy. I’m only doing my job,” said the guard holding his hands up in surrender.

Farlo said, “I got to take care of Harry J next. What room is he in?”

“He was in room ten. They moved him today to room fifteen. Then twenty minutes ago they carried him out in a body bag.”

“He died?” said Farlo.

“No. They put him a body bag so he wouldn’t scream or try to escape. He’s a crazy one. He keeps talking about some nut job rescuing him,” said the guard.

“Where’d they take him? He has my watch,” said Joey.

“You the nut job?” asked the guard.

“Un huh,” said Joey.

The security guard looked at Farlo, “They took Harry J to the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility. It’s over by the Heavenly Haven Cemetery.”

“See you later” said Farlo.

“Where you going?” said the guard.

“I promised this nut job, he could see Harry J tonight. I never go back on a promise. You got a problem with that?” said Farlo. Tina showed her fangs.

“Not me. I never seen yah. Bye.”

Just as Farlo, Tina, and Joey cleared the door where the ambulance was supposed to be waiting, they saw it heading down the driveway.

“What about my clothes?” asked Joey.

“Turn your hospital gown into a fashion statement. We got to heist a car.”

“Huh?” said Joey.

 

Will they ever rescue Harry J? Why was Harry J carried out in a body bag? Who’s Farlo?

 

I Didn’t Ask For a Travel Brochure

by

Farlo, Tina, and Joey sat at a multi-tiled outside cafe table, behind a black wrought iron fence bordering Taco Heaven from passing pedestrian traffic. A skinny pole with the number 12 rose from the middle of the table and held an open umbrella. Farlo sipped from his iced tea. Tina, who wanted to sit at the table, was relegated to the cement under the table lapped water from a Styrofoam bowl. Joey stared at his corrugated cardboard box of kale, beets, spinach, edamame, cubes of butternut squash, and a small piece of broiled chicken. He sipped on a bottle of purified water at Taco Heaven.

Joey looked at Farlo, “I’m not eating this stuff. Who eats this stuff anyway?”

Farlo ignored him and flirted with a thirtyish tall woman, dressed in a business skirt and matching jacket who was talking on the phone. She winked at him and mouthed, “What’s your cell number?”

Joey said, “How’d you do that?”

The flirting scene was interrupted by a lanky, tattooed, male of Mexican descent who brought Farlo and Tina’s order to the table. He saw Farlo and said, “Hey man, what you doing here? I’m clean.”

Farlo looked up and said, “When did you get out, Pablo? Last I heard you were doing ten to twenty for armed robbery.”

“Man, the DA got it all wrong. I was using my finger which I had stuck in my coat. My public defender got my conviction tossed out after I spent six months in state.”

“I heard you had a gun in the back of your pants,” said Farlo.

“That’s beside the point. I wasn’t going to use it unless somebody who wasn’t supposed to show up showed up, you know what I mean. I know the legal intricacies of B & E. I’m thinking of becoming a lawyer if my public defender can get my record expunged.”

“You got a rap sheet longer than I-10, Pablo. Your P D has a lot a work,” said Farlo.

“That’s true, but most of it was before I was sixteen. Can I use you for a reference?” said Pablo.

Farlo took a long sip of his iced tea. He saw Pablo stare at Joey then at Joey’s corrugated box of veggies. “Don’t mind him, he’s in orientation. He’s still detoxing.”

“I feel sorry for you, man. Farlo’s a hard dude. I know.”

“Tell me about it,” said Joey.

“I don’t have time, I got other customers. Well, Farlo, you gonna be a reference?”

“I tell you what, I’ll be a great reference if you’ll give me great information on a little project I have in mind,” said Farlo.

“What’s the game?” asked Pablo.

“I want to break into the Patiently Insane Home on the west side,” said Farlo. His voice sounded like a freight train rumbling down the tracks.

“Man, that’s a tough place. They got security 24/7. They got guard dogs. They got cameras. The top of the wall around the place is covered with razor wire,” said Pablo.

“I didn’t ask you for a travel brochure. And, I’m not booking a vacation to Wichita. How do I get in?”

Pablo placed his right hand under his chin. He cupped his right elbow with his left hand. He tilted his head a bit to the left, and made believe he was thinking.

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Pablo. If you do, I’m going to grind your sorry ass into hamburger and feed it to the dogs,” snapped Farlo.

“Okay, okay I had to fake it a little in case somebody close by wants a favor. You know how negotiations go. Me and Taco broke in last month. Taco wanted the drugs. Me, I don’t do drugs, but I needed a wheel man. Me, I planned on going through the residents’ rooms and stealing the purses, wallets, jewelry and stuff.”

“I don’t want your autobiography. I want to get in, comprehende?

“Man, you are touchy. This guy with the salad a tough case? You want me to sic some of the gang on him?”

Joey looked up, “Hey, I’m eating my salad. I won’t complain anymore.”

Pablo bent low over the table. He motioned Farlo and Joey closer to him. He said, “Listen up. This is my plan. It works.”

Pablo explained the plan and left with Farlo’s promise of a great letter of recommendation.

Joey said, “I’m not going, we’ll get killed. Pablo’s nuts.”

Farlo said, “Pablo’s certifiable, we’ll probably get killed. We’re going tomorrow night.

What’s Pablo’s plan? Will they rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo?

If You Don’t Like The Rules – Ignore Them

by

Farlo, Tina, and Joey stood in front of the double doors to the Heavenly Happiness Assisted Care Facility. Joey read a paper sign posted on the door. “Check this out Farlo, we can’t go in. It says, no dogs. Only family members can visit. Don’t bring any food in. We check bags and purses. No guns allowed. Visiting hours are between 2 p.m. and 3 p.m. That’s wrong, it should say, visiting hour. It’s ten o’clock, we’ll have to leave and come back at two. Are you family?”

Farlo stared through the glass window at the reception desk. He was staring at a matronly woman, with a beehive doo, wearing dark blue plastic framed glasses. She was playing solitaire on her computer. An old dude with a mobile pole with a urine sack and BP monitor was standing in front of her trying to get her attention.

Farlo turned to Joey, “Did you read page one oh one, paragraph seven in the manual?”

“What manual? I don’t have my manual? When am I going to get it? What does it say?” asked Joey.

“It says if you don’t like the rules, ignore them. I don’t like those rules. We’re going in, keep quiet, observe, and play nice. And, run like hell, if I tell you to,” said Farlo.

“What?”

Farlo didn’t answer. He opened the door, took a step inside and stopped. “I hate that smell. It smells worse than you do after your cardio.”

“You gonna start on me again?” whispered Joey.

“They’re no timeouts where you’re concerned,” said Farlo in a low gravelly voice.

The receptionist looked up, past the old dude with the mobile pole complete with urine sack and BP monitor. “Hey you, didn’t you read the sign, no dogs.”

Farlo turned his head down and toward Tina, “It’s okay Tina, the receptionist forgot to take her nice pills this morning.”

Farlo walked across the tiled floor and stood next to the old timer with mobile pole with the urine sack, and BP unit on it. “What’s happening old dude? You need some help?”

“Who the hell do you think you are coming in here and talking to our citizens without permission?” The matronly woman’s abundant breasts heaving with each uttered word. Her face now as red as an overripe tomato.

Farlo ignore her. He took hold of the old dude’s arm. He glanced at it, “What the hell are they shooting into your veins, old dude?”

“They won’t tell me. They said I gave away my life to my kids when they forced me to sign a power of attorney to them.”

“Hold on. How did they force you?”

“They wouldn’t give me a catheter so I keep peeing in the bed.”

Farlo turned to the receptionist, he looked at her ID name plate pinned just over her left breast, “Is it Beverly or should I call you Bev?” Farlo asked in a low husky voice.

“It’s none of your bleep business,” said the receptionist.

“I’ll accept that. Here’s my business, I want this old dude’s power of attorney rescinded within the hour. If it isn’t I’m going to shut this place down and have you and your manager tossed into jail.”

“You can’t do that?” said Beverly.

Joey spoke up, “Yes he can. If you bother him, he’ll call Filo.”

Farlo tossed a ‘what the hell are you doing’ look at Joey.

“No, no, no. Not Filo. I’m sorry. I was rude. How can I help you?”

“The old dude was first,” said Farlo.

“How can I help you, old dude?” said Beverly. Farlo was sure she didn’t know the old dude’s name.

“Can I switch rooms to have a garden view. I want the room where Harry lived.”

Farlo interrupted, “Harry J?”

“Yah, he was my best friend. They took him out in an ambulance about fifteen minutes ago. He was healthy as can be. I don’t know why he was in here.”

Farlo bent over the receptionist desk, he put his right hand on top of Beverly’s bee hive doo, and said, “Bev if you don’t tell me where they took Harry J I’m going to pull this bee hive off your head as well as the scalp it is attached to. Do you understand me?”

“Yah, and I’ll say he never touched you,” said Joey.

“Me too,” said the old dude.

Tina barked.

Beverly grimaced as turned off her solitaire game and pulled up an Excel spreadsheet. “Here it is, they took him to the Patiently Insane Home. It’s across town.”

Farlo looked at Tina, “Tina, if Bev calls ahead on us, show Bev what you’re going to do.”

Tina jaw opened into a menacing drool with her tongue hanging out. Her voice emitting a guttural growl.

“I, I won’t Tina. I promise.”

“Fist bump old dude. Here’s my card. It only has my name and a special number on it. If they don’t cancel the power of attorney in an hour call me. If they don’t move you, call me. If they give you any crap, call me.”

“Thanks, righteous dude,” said the old dude.

Back at the car, Joey behind the wheel. Farlo in the passenger seat, and Tina sprawled across the back seat. Joey said, “You like my move tossing Filo out?”

“You’re lucky I’m not reporting you for breach of security,” said Farlo.

“What breach of security.

“Section one, paragraph 3, page 4. You can’t use Filo’s name publically until you’ve past boot camp.”

“I’m still in boot camp?”

“Hell no. You haven’t started boot camp. You’ve been in orientation. I’m hungry, let’s go to Whole Foods so you can hit the salad bar.”

“Where are you going?” asked Joey.

“Me? I’m going to Taco Heaven. I can’t stand salad bars,” growled Farlo.

“For once, have some compassion,” asked Joey.

“What do you want to do, buy new love handles? Move out, kid.”

“Farlo, who’s Filo?”

Will Farlo, Tina, and Joey rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo? Come by tomorrow as the adventure continues.

Dirty Socks Under the Bed?

by

“Rise and shine you rug rat. You’re snoozing, you’re losing,” Farlo’s command barked from the kitchen. Tina barked twice.

“Ready for inspection,” Joey said from the bedroom.

Farlo patted Tina on the head, smiled for a brief second, turned his smile into a growl, walked to Joey’s bedroom, opened the door, and said, “I’m kicking it up a notch this morning. I’ve been giving you the preschool to build your confidence.”

Joey said, “I’m ready for anything you can throw at me.”

Farlo touched Tina’s head, “Check under the bed for dirty socks, pot, amphetamines, hotdogs, sugary cereals, pizza, and Playboy magazines.”

Tina barked once, lowered herself to her belly and crawled under the bed. While Tina ferreted around under the bed, Farlo examined Joey. He looked at Joey’s Nike’s. They were clean. He checked Joey’s jeans. They were washed and ironed. He checked Joey’s t-shirt. It was clean and without lettering. He rubbed a forefinger along Joey’s cheek checking for stubble. It was smooth as a baby’s butt. Farlo said nothing. He walked around the bed, the teddy bear was gone. There was not a wrinkle on the bed. Tina emerged from under the bed. She had a dirty sock in her mouth.

“Aha, I knew it was too good to be true. What is this sock doing under your bed?” demanded Farlo.

“Resting or hiding from its mate,” said Joey without a trace of a smile.

“A smartass. Is that what I have on my hands,” asked Farlo.

“You know it. I lost fifteen pounds. I can do forty pushups, one hundred sit-ups, a plank for thirty seconds, and I can run two miles.”

“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you,” said Farlo.

“Matter of fact, I do,” said Joey.

“You think I’m going to let you eat that crap you like to eat just because you think you’re doing good. Well, here’s a news flash, you’re not. It’s off limits. It’s out of bounds. It’s contraband. What do you think of that?” asked Farlo sounding meaner than an angry pit bull.

“I gave it all up. I like eating healthy. It fits with my new self-image.’

“Which is what, poster child for save the dolphins? Snapped Farlo.

“I haven’t figured it out yet, but I’m not the old Joey, I’m me. You can call me Joe, or you can call me Joseph, but you can’t call me Joey.

“I’ll call you whatever I want to call you. If I tell you to eat crackers and spit bullets, you do it. If I tell you keep running into a brick wall until it crumbles, you do it. If I tell you to get me a pizza and you can’t have any you do it.”

“Hey, the last one’s not fair.

“Aha, I found your weak link. If you get taken prisoner, they’ll use it against you. They’ll put pizza just out of your reach to torment you. They’ll turn you into a sniveling, shriveling peace of old pepperoni and toss you in the garbage,” said Farlo.

Farlo heard a ding on his iWatch 3. He looked at it. He looked back at Joey, He said, “Eat up. We’re on a mission from Filo.”

Joey said, “A real mission? I’m really, really going on a real mission?”

“I hope you’re man enough.”

“What’s the assignment?”

“I’ll get the full dossier later, right now, all I know is we’re assigned to rescue Harry J before his execution.”

“It sounds dangerous,” said Joey.

“Make sure you have a living will ready before we take off. If you don’t I’m going to tell them to take you off life support even if you’re breathing, speaking coherently, and are fully aware of your surroundings.”

“You can’t do that because I’ll tell them you can’t do that to me.”

“Remember those thirty papers you signed yesterday and got tired of reading them halfway through?” asked Farlo.

“Yes?” Joes now letting anxiety creep into his voice.

“Your last signature gave me power of attorney over your entire life.”

“I’m telling Filo.”

The fab twosome are on their first real assignment – will they survive? Who are they going to rescue? Why did Filo give them the assignment? Who’s Filo?

You Think I’m Stupid

by

Joey sat behind the wheel of his beat up, dinged up, dented up, bald tires, and cracked windshield eighteen-year-old Honda with 300,000 miles on it. Farlo sat next to him. Tina lied on the back seat. The car was parked on the edge of the lot of a 7-Eleven.

Farlo sipped his Starbucks’ coffee. Joey glared at him. “When do I get coffee?”

“When I think you’re clean.”

“I’ve been clean for ten days.”

Farlo said, “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. You ever hear that quote?”

Joey said, “You think I’m stupid. Of course, I heard it.”

“Who said it?” demanded Farlo.

“You got the quote wrong. You didn’t even quote it right.”

Farlo moved his head slightly to the left to glance at Joey, “If I find any hallucinogens in the house I’ll hang you upside down with a rope around your feet from the oak tree in back and let Tina use you for attack practice.”

“I said I was clean I never tried that stuff. But the quote is and I’m certain I’m right, “One large step for a small woman and an even bigger step for a tall woman. Marcy Bloomberg said it on E! I’m sure that’s it. So, you’re wrong.”

Farlo twisted in his seat, “If we weren’t on the job, I’d smack you across your head and knock some stuff around, you are one sorry case.”

“You wanna bet who’s right, or are you chicken? What are you saying, I don’t hear you. I see your lips moving,” said Joey.

In a flash, Farlo’s left are shot out straight and caught Joey by the neck. Farlo’s thumb pressed into Joey’s windpipe, his fingers squeezed on the back of Joey’s neck. Joey gagged, “You’re killing me. Stop.”

“I’m not killing you. I’m giving you tough love. That’s what the manual calls it. Now admit you made it up.”

“I didn’t. Ouch. Yes, yes, I made it up,” coughed Joey.

Farlo released his head. Tina, now on her haunches on the backseat, her head rested on the top of Farlo’s seat.

Farlo said, “Repeat after me. I will not bullshit Farlo ever again.” He tightened his grip on Joey’s throat.

“I will not bullshit Farlo ever again,” said Joey. He sounded like a cat tossing up a hairball.

Farlo released his grip. He turned his attention back to the 7-Eleven.

“What manual are you talking about?” asked Joey rubbing his throat with his left hand.

“The one Filo wrote,” said Farlo.

Farlo took the top of his coffee and blew the aroma towards Joey.

“That’s cruel. You don’t have to worry about a heart attack, because you don’t have one,” said Joey.

Farlo put the cover back on his coffee, took a sip and stared into the 7-Eleven. A nondescript white van pulled into the parking lot. It didn’t have a front license plate. It drove slowly around the lot and pulled in front of the 7-Eleven.

“You see that?” asked Farlo.

“What?” asked Joey.

“The van. What are you doing, fantasizing about the date you’ll never have because no woman in right mind will ever date you.”

“I’m not choosy, she doesn’t have to be in her right mind,” said Joey.

“Look, it doesn’t have a license plate, front or back,” said Farlo.

“So? Maybe their test driving it from the dealership,” said Joey.

Two men got out of the van. One from the driver’s side, the other from the passenger side. The driver, a five foot four-inch slim guy was wearing s dark hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head. The other man, six-inches taller, was heavy. He looked like he was in training to be a sumo wrestler. He wore a black stocking hat pulled down tight and stopping at the edge of eyebrows. The shorter said something to the taller man and pointed at Joey’s car. They stared at it, mumbled something between them, turned and went in the 7-Eleven.

Joey’s eyes were closed. He was massaging his neck and throat. Farlo punched Joey on the bicep, “It’s go time. Follow my lead.”

Joey rubbed his bicep. “Hey, that hurts. Can’t you say, ‘Joey, it’s go time.’ No you can’t you have to use brute force. What’s go time? What are we doing? Are you going to rob the 7-Eleven? I’m not going.”

What is happening at the 7-Eleven? What is go-time? Did Joey learn his lesson? Who is Filo?

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