mystery

It’s About To Get Bumpy

by

Farlo roared down the expressway at ninety miles an hour. He let go of the steering wheel, shifted in the seat and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing, you’re going to get us killed. We’re going nearly a hundred miles an hour and you’re driving no hands.”

Tina, resting comfortably on the front seat, half picked up her head, turned it slightly toward the back seat, and then placed it between her front paws and closed her eyes.

“I’m looking for the keys to your cuffs, kid.” Farlo grabbed hold of the wheel with his left hand drove on to center shoulder barely averting a rear end collision with a 16-wheel oil truck. Joey screamed, “Sweet Mother of God, I promise I’ll start going to Mass if you protect me from this madman.”

Farlo pulled the black and white back into the passing lane. He turned his head slightly over his right shoulder, “See what your whining caused me to do?”

“I wasn’t whining.”

“You need Kleenex for your tears.”

“I wasn’t crying. I have an allergy. What happened?”

“You made me miss my exit. You better hang on, this is going to be tricky.”

“What are you going to do? Get us killed, maimed, burned over ninety percent of our body?”

“You are such a worry wart. Where’s your trust in your mentor. I taught this stunt fifteen years ago when I was teaching aggressive driving at Filo’s aggressive driving camp. The trick is to get going fast enough to roll over four times, cut your wheels to the left as you roll over for the fourth time, and push the accelerator to the floor as you come up. The timing has to be perfect or the fuel tank will explode.”

“How many times have you done this?” said Joey.

“Never. It was only theoretical. I know it can be done, I’m not sure anybody has ever done it. If we pull it off, Filo will be impressed.”

“What if we don’t pull it off?”

“Filo’s really good about funerals.”

“I’m too young to die.”

“Too late. On the count of four, put a death grip on the door handle,” said Farlo.

“There are no handles in the backseat of a police car,” hollered Joey.

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Tough, kid. It’s about to get bumpy.”

The black and white cut to the shoulder, Farlo brought the black and white to within inches of the cement restraining barrier.

“I can’t look, you can’t jump the cement barrier,” shouted Joey.

“Oh no? Watch this,” said Farlo increasing speed to one hundred fifteen miles an hour. The road took a slight turn to the left. Farlo turned the wheels slightly to left, the front wheel caught the lip of the cement barrier and the black and white was airborne. The rear right tire caught the cement barrier on the way down and flipped the black and white. It rolled over once, twice, three times when Farlo hit the accelerator. Within seconds they were racing down the highway in opposite direction from which they were originally heading.

“Go figure, it’s only three roll overs. Joey? Joey?”

“I’m on the floor. Did we die? I know this isn’t heaven. It must be hell. It’s the only place that will take you.”

“Suck it up, kid. You’re alive, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were a half mile from the Last Chance. You play it right, I’ll put a good word in for you with Filo when he evaluates you.”

“Who’s Filo?”

Who’s Filo? Will they rescue Harry J? How will Joey do on his evaluation?

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?

I Know What I’m Doing & You Don’t

by

Three-thirty in the morning. Farlo, Tina, and Joey sat in the back of an ambulance. Pablo sat in the driver’s seat dressed as a paramedic. Pablo’s friend, El Hombre, also dressed as a paramedic sat in the passenger seat. El Hombre is a bit of a TV personality since locally he’s appeared on more Crime Stopper news feeds asking for information as to his location. And, warning citizens to consider El Hombre armed and dangerous.

Farlo barked through the window separating the driver from the rear of the ambulance, “Where’d you get the ambulance on such short notice?”

“We heisted it from an accident El Hombre staged. I tell you Farlo, you would have been proud, bing, bang, boom, it went down like clockwork, man,” bragged Pablo.

“Yah, but there’s one glitch, which I was not happy about, but Pablo made me promise no rough stuff,” said El Hombre.

“What was it?” asked Joey.

“I wanted to cap the ambulance drivers so they wouldn’t recognize me. But I promised Pablo, no shooting, knifing, strangling, or using a metal pipe against an unprotected body part if I wasn’t attacked first. That’s wrong, man. I tell you, you got to take them out before they think of taking you out. It’s that kind of thinking that’s made me a success,” said El Hombre.

“If I didn’t need the ambulance, I’d take you outside and let you have a go at me, you’re lower than a piece of whale crap and that’s at the bottom of the ocean. You need to straighten out before somebody carries you out and dumps you in the river,” growled Farlo.

Pablo said something in Spanish to El Hombre before El Hombre could jump out and take on Farlo.

El Hombre said, “Hey man, I apologize. Three things. One, I didn’t know you was Filo’s top gun. Second, I didn’t know you is the Farlo who the street legend. And three, I didn’t know you was the man who took out El Jefe and six of his lieutenants. No hard feelings, okay.”

Farlo stuck his head in the window section and glared at El Hombre, “I see your kisser on Crime Stoppers one more time, I’m putting you at the top of my eraser list.”

“No can do. I’m a celebrity. I gotta be on Crime Stoppers,” said El Hombre.

Farlo answered, “You’re making me believe in reincarnation because nobody can be that stupid in one lifetime.”

Pablo turned toward the window, fist bumped Farlo, then said, “I’m going to turn on the lights and we’ll go in. I remember the script. Tell the intern to keep his eyes closed and play like he’s shot up with drugs.”

“This is stupid. I don’t want to wear a hospital gown. It’s open in front,” whined Joey.

“Get your head in the game, kid. You got it on backwards. Don’t worry, no one will be interested in your sorry looking ass. Act normal, like you’re in a daze and don’t know what you’re doing. It comes natural to you,” snarled Farlo.

“There you go with your negativity. Once, just once, I’d like a little praise,” said Joey.

“You want praise? Is that what you want? I’ll take you to Santa at the department store over Christmas. Now lay on your back, legs straight. Arms by your side. Eyes are closed. Let a little drool spill out of the corner of your mouth.”

“Why couldn’t I be the attending physician and you be the patient?” asked Joey.

“Because I know what I’m doing and you don’t,” said Farlo.

“Good point,” said Joey.

Pablo started the flashing lights, put on the siren, and drove up to the guardhouse at the entrance to the Patiently Insane Home. He stopped at the guardhouse, lowered his window, and hollered to the guard who was watching a rerun of a football game, “I got another one, let me through. I don’t want him to die on me. Too much paperwork.”

The guard watched the next play. He turned his head toward Pablo, saw Pablo’s uniform, which he took off one of the paramedics, and said, “Take him around back. I’ll phone ahead.”

“Thanks, man,” said Pablo and he drove on the grounds.

Pablo half turned toward the window, “Farlo, I can only give you fifteen minutes tops. I figure an APB will be out on this vehicle by then. We’ll have to ditch it and heist another ride.”

“If we don’t show up in fifteen minutes consider us dead and beat it,” said Farlo.

“What was that?” said Joey who was supposed to be impersonating a person who is heavily sedated.

“Play your role, Kid. It’s go time,” said Farlo as the ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance.

Will Farlo, Tina, and Joey rescue Harry J? Will they make it back to the ambulance in 15 minutes? Who’s Filo?

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

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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.

He’s Taking Selfies To Post On Tinder

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Farlo’s riding a bicycle, Tina is running alongside him. Joey is running alongside Tina.

“How far are you going, Farlo? I think we’ve been running for a half hour,” said Joey.

“Wimp. The Kenyans run for hours. They’re running up mountains. They’re running down mountains. They run to the coast so they can run in the ocean. Take a hint from Tina, she’s not even breathing hard. Suck it up, kid,” said Farlo

“At least tell me more about our job. Who’s Harry J? Why do we have to rescue him? Is it dangerous? Can I decide after you answer these questions if I want to go?”

“You’re not cleared to know. Do I look like I know Harry J?”

Joey interrupted Farlo, “Does he spell his last name Jay?”

“No, it’s only a letter. Before you ask it, I don’t know what his last name is. Filo only give the amount of information he thinks necessary to accomplish the mission.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? It bothers me,” said Joey.

“You’ll never get ahead in the organization with that attitude.”

“I don’t want to get ahead in the organization. I want to see the lease agreement for the room you rented in my house,” said Joey.

“I can’t give it to you. I gave it to Filo.”

“Who’s Filo?”

“See that hill? Sprint up the hill. Tina and I will be waiting at the top with your electrolyte drink,” said Farlo pushing harder on the pedals and leaving Joey behind.

“Hey Farlo, this isn’t fair. You can downshift, I can’t,” Joey hollered to Farlo’s back.”

An hour later, Farlo, Tina, and Joey sit in Joey’s car in the parking lot of Heavenly Happiness Assisted Care Facility.

Farlo watched an ambulance wheel a patient in. Ten minutes later he watched an ambulance wheel a patient out. Five minutes later a hearse pulled up and two somber looking dudes ready for Halloween pushed a gurney inside.  Joey, who now earned his smart phone back, was taking selfies. Tina was photo bombing Joey’s selfies.

Farlo glanced over at Joey, “Put that thing away. Get your head in the game. It’s almost go time.”

Joey looked over at Farlo, “I’m taking selfies to post on Tinder.”

“You’re not ready for dating. You’re heading for one disappointment after another.”

“You’re jealous because I have good looks and a great personality. The two things you wish you had, no offense intended,” said Joey snapping another selfie. Tina’s head resting on his shoulder.

“I think Tina being in my photos is going to help. The ladies like a guy with a dog. They figure if a guy can take care of a dog, he knows how to make a commitment.”

“Where’d you hear that crap,” snapped Farlo.

“I read it online on how to pick up women,” said Joey.

“What loser wrote that?” said Farlo.

“It was written by a bartender. You know bartenders give the best advice.”

Farlo’s left hand shot out like a bolt of lightning. He snagged Joey’s smart phone and stuck it in his pants’ pocket.

“What are you doing? I earned it back. Give it to me,” demanded Joey.

“You lost it for 48 hours.”

“Why?”

“Read the manual. It’s on page 73 paragraph 4,” said Farlo.

“But I don’t have the manual,” said Joey.

“Tough luck. We’re going in. Follow me,” Farlo got out the passenger side door. Tina jumped into the front seat and followed Farlo. Joey got out the driver’s side door and came around the car. He positioned himself to Farlo’s left side. Joey wanted proximity to the pocket that contained his smartphone.

“Don’t even think about it, you could lose a finger,” said Farlo as he started toward the door.

“Do I get credit for initiative?” asked Joey.

“No.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to rescue Harry J. No more questions.”

Will they rescue Harry J. from the assisted care facility? Who’s Filo? Why doesn’t Joey have a copy of the manual?

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