A writers’ group I belong to instructed us to write a 250-word horror story for Halloween. I don’t write horror I thought I’d give it a try. It’s a good exercise in editing because 250 words are (is?) not a lot to work with. Anyway, here’s what I came up with. Happy Halloween 10 days late!
Damn Beans
“You go down cellar and git some beans,” screamed Maggie’s stepmother.
Maggie didn’t argue. Her stepmother was quick with the belt. Her father had married the woman when he lost the farm. “She’ll be a ma to you,“ he’d assured Maggie when they moved into the isolated cottage built over a root cellar. The cottage was primitive, and the cellar was dark and damp and smelled funny. Maggie was afraid of it. “Nothin’s down there but vegetables,” her father scoffed. Then he disappeared. Maggie didn’t blame him. She was desperate to leave, too. But she had nowhere to go.
Maggie crept down the stairs and peered into the dark. She muttered, “There’s nothing down here but jars.” Then she groped her way until one gingerly flailing hand connected with the naked lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room. She turned it on. Shelves of canned vegetables wavered into view. She grabbed the closest jar, took a deep breath and repeated, “Nobody here but me.”. She turned off the bulb and ran for light of the stairwell. One step, two, she was almost in the light. I made it, she exulted then felt a clawed hand dig into her neck and pull her back. A slithery tongue slid up her cheek and a raspy voice whispered in her ear, “Your pa thought he was alone, too. Joke’s on you. Ma’s handy at gittin’ pairs. And I bet you’re more tender than your pa was. Oh, and don’t drop the beans.”
Last May, we lost our cat, Bucky. I say “lost” because we don’t know what happened to him. He refused to come in one night; even treats couldn’t convince him to come inside so we left the cat door open, sure he’d come in when he got bored. We never saw him again. Coyotes probably got him, but he could have been catnapped. It had happened before. Maggie, his sister, disappeared one night. I reported her as lost (she’s micro-chipped) and combed the neighborhood. No luck so I gave up; I was sure coyotes got her. She ran into the house 24 hours later. And now she won’t go near people. So I hope that’s what happened to Bucky. I put up fliers all over the neighborhood and someone ripped them down immediately. It’s like they didn’t want him found. So, if he was catnapped, I hope whoever took him is treating him right. He was special and I still miss him.
But we didn’t like leaving Maggie all alone when we left town. We didn’t want another kitten because Maggie is mean; we weren’t sure she wouldn’t harm a kitten. So we went to the shelter and rescued a fuzzy, orange tomcat. He was over 2 (they think) and twice the size of Maggie. But he was shy so we hoped he wouldn’t pick on her and he was big enough that she couldn’t bully him. He spent his first two days with us in the bathroom, locked away from Maggie. He endured us petting him but he preferred to be alone. After two days, we let him out and anxiously watched his introduction to Maggie. She hissed at him and ran. Well, at least they didn’t fight. He needed a name but nothing seemed to fit. I finally adopted OB for Orange Boy. We’re all used to it now and he responds to it–although officially he’s Obi-Whine Catnobe. Gordon hates boring names. We worried that he’d dominate Maggie because he’s older and bigger. Not to worry; she’s queen of this castle. She gets the food first and he waits his turn. When he annoys her, she gives a whack on the head and he puts up with it. He’s a good-natured little fella and has learned that if he rolls on his back and presents tummy he gets more food. We croon, “Aaww, how cute!” and open the refrigerator. He has us trained.
We didn’t think he’d be interested in going outside but he dashed out one morning when Gordon went out to get the paper (yes, we still get the paper). I didn’t worry much. I figured he’d be back in an hour for more food so we left the door open but there was no OB. I was so discouraged I gave up after ten hours. I figured he’d gone the way of Bucky. Fourteen hours later he limped in and hid under the dining room table. We hauled him to the vet (the x-rays cost a fortune) and found out he had a broken leg. They couldn’t recommend an orthopedic surgeon. The only thing the doc on call could do was some sort of muscle bind thing–for $3,000. He wasn’t sure it would work so we decided to take OB home and watch him. We got some pain killer which we stuffed down his throat and hoped for the best. Well, the best happened. He walked on the leg. All the time. We finally took him off the pain killer; we thought it was masking difficulties and hoped he’d stay off the leg and let it heal. That didn’t stop him. It’s been a month now and he’s chasing Maggie which she doesn’t appreciate. He’s scurrying after bugs in the windows and jumping on the furniture. He still limps a bit but it’s getting better week by week. So I guess he doesn’t need surgery, thank God. We’re still puzzled as to what could have caused the break. Another pet owner at the vet’s office had the best suggestion. He said it sounded like OB got hit by a car. That makes the most sense and I hope OB learned from the experience. He’s lucky he wasn’t killed. He still sneaks out so I hope his learning curve picks up.
Now we hope he has sense enough to avoid coyotes. Bucky used to attack them. I hope OB’s a coward. We’ll see.
I’m feeling very sorry for myself today, so I’d thought I’d bitch a bit about writing. Well, not writing so much as publishing. I got screwed over by an agent when I wrote my first book. There was much excitement; her head writer was reportedly “over the moon” and CAA wanted to represent the movie rights. Then it got rejected by the Big Six (at the time; or maybe it was down to five. Can’t remember). I was told I had lawsuit material, but I had no idea how badly being ‘shopped’ could hurt you. So, being disgusted with the whole agent process, I self-published my second novel. And now I’m trying to sell it on Amazon. Which leads me to my biggest bitch. Scammers. They’ve got my email (and phone number!) and are after me. Someone wanted to buy the rights to First Year for $10k. No thanks. I think it’s worth more than that. LOTS of people want to sell my books in foreign countries. They also want to “publish” it for me–for a fee. But the one that really pissed me off was a supposed agent. She told me Harper Collins was interested in my book. Sound familiar? So, I looked her up on the scam lists. She wasn’t there but the minute I asked a question, she disappeared. I feel like I have “shmuck” tattooed on my forehead. I don’t know why I bother writing. Yes, I do. It amuses me. I just wish I wasn’t being punished for it So, I’ll keep writing for myself and not answering the phone and responding to emails. I’ve been bitten once and that’s enough. But I had to yell my giant YAWP of frustration to the universe. There, I feel better.
I got a 5-star rating from Readers’ Favorites! Reviewer liked everything except the cover. I guess I’m the only one who likes cartoons. But I was relieved when I got 5 stars on the formatting. I did it myself!
And this is the cover she didn’t like. To each her own…
I just read a review in the L.A. Times that I completely disagree with, so I had to write something. The reviewer objected because it wasn’t “serious” theater. I guess you only have “serious theater” when the audience being lectured and scolded and proselytized about Far Left politics. Apparently, you can’t laugh or enjoy yourself in “serious theater”. Bull****. I enjoyed Peter Pan Goes Wrong tremendously–as did most of the audience. We all laughed and booed Captain Hook which the reviewer thought was terrible because they didn’t share in the humor. IMO, we need more plays like this instead of the crap previously produced at the Music Center theaters–which probably is the reason the Taper is dark for the foreseeable future. I cancelled our subscription because I couldn’t stand the name-calling and abuse of anyone who didn’t share the Left’s extreme worldview. I wasn’t the only one. You want to kill a regional theater? Turn it into a political hobbyhorse. The Left apparently doesn’t buy tickets. And the result is a dark theater. Good job, political extremists.
Anyway, back to Peter Pan Goes Wrong. It’s about an amateur theater group trying to produce Peter Pan. Anyone who’s ever been involved in amateur theatrics can identify with everything that goes wrong. I remember being in The Effect of Gamma Rays in Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds when I was in college. Someone went over my props after I’d checked and moved everything (God knows why). My opening scene started with a phone call and the phone fell off the ledge. Things went downhill from there. The head tech guy didn’t show up. He claimed that he informed everyone that he’d miss the show but nobody remembered him telling anyone. So all the light and sound cues were wrong. Car horns blared in strange places; none of the special spotlights worked, the actors wandered around the stage, hoping for the best. The final miscue was at the end; an atom was supposed to be super-imposed on the actress’s face. There was a corn stalk instead. The director spent the show in the lobby, pulling his hair out. We did our best and the audience was kind. I remember one friend afterward asking me the significance of the cornstalk. I had no good answer. We stayed until one in the morning to train the tech crew on the cues and went on to triumph. I also remember when the girl playing Frumasera in Fiddler on the Roof panicked when one of the lines broke as she flew around ten feet off the stage. She kept waiting for the other line to break but she didn’t lose a beat. Amateur actors are tough. I guess they have to be. But I identified completely with the shenanigans the Peter Pan actors were dealing with. This is an industry town so I know wasn’t alone. It was FUN! I hope the new Director of the Music Center focusses on entertainment instead of pushing his political views. He’ll probably be out of a job if he doesn’t. All the good shows go to the Pantages these days. And the audience pays to see them.
We skipped our usual burger and wine before going to the Pantages last night. Tired of spending $70 to split a marginal burger and fries and drinking inexpensive wine. Hollywood Blvd. really needs to get more restaurants around the Pantages. I know the pandemic closed a lot of them but it’s time to move back in. The city even cleaned up the worst of the homeless encampments so it’s not as scary as it used to be. Anyway, we went to the Pantages to see Beetlejuice. It’s not great theater, you won’t come out humming the tunes, but it’s lots of fun. What a remarkable change! Entertainment! The sets were original, the actors are all good, and the book worked to support the story. For a good time, call Beetlejuice–three times. Or at least buy a ticket.
One thing I forgot to add: it was opening night last night so the people watching was wonderful. All the pretty models and actresses came dressed to the nines (whatever that means). Gordon almost lost his eyes when a lovely young woman sashayed by in a super short skirt. Well, she had the legs to pull it off. But, boy, did I feel old. That’s life, ain’t it. It was also a big cosplay night. Lots of black & white striped dresses and shirts. I didn’t have any gorgeous guys to ogle. Damn. And I got stuck behind two Shreks so I had to bob and weave to see the show. I should carry a phone book when I go to the theater. I need something to sit on. Of course, nobody has phone books anymore. See above comment about getting old. I’ve got an idea! Why don’t producers book movie theaters? Stadium seating would really help me out.
We’ve been royally entertained lately. Last week we went to Into the Woods at the Ahmanson. Wonderful production. It was a touring company, so the sets were fragmented but that worked better than productions I’ve seen with huge sets. When you’re dealing with storybook characters, why not let the imagination run wild? No point in dragging everybody down to earth–unless you’re a giant, then it’s a plot point. Four of the cast members were from the original Broadway cast that won Best Revival (I think). The baker and his wife were a real-life married couple, and they worked wonderfully together. The young man who played the Wolf and Prince Charming was delightful. The Sondheim score is demanding but the cast had no problem with it–and they were all superb comic actors. It’s the best production of Into the Woods I’ve seen (haven’t seen that many but still…). It might be enough to save the Music Center. The Taper is being closed for the near future due to lack of money. The last program director spent all the money on political shows. We finally cancelled our subscription to the Taper because we couldn’t stand the hatred and politicization anymore. I remember a play, starring Mary Louise Parker, that was written by an Englishman. Midpoint in the play, apropos to nothing, Parker screams out, “I hate Republicans!” Don’t think it was in the script, she just adlibbed but that sort of thing became common. In What the Constitution Means to Me, the actor/writer declaims that the electoral college should be abolished because it interferes with Democracy. I guess she never read US history. The rural states would never have ratified the Constitution without the electoral college. They wanted to be protected from the populated states. If the Left is allowed to destroy the electoral college the Red states will have no choice but to seceded for their own protection. But if you believe that you’re bigot or a racist…some sort of ‘ot’ or ‘ist’. When we went for a glass of wine at the Plaza before the show last Wednesday, the signs were blaring that the last four performances of Transparency the Musical had tickets available. I didn’t see a soul around the theater. It looked dead. I guess they couldn’t give tickets away. And when you can’t paper a theater, you have a real problem. Anyway, the new director is searching for money…and plays people want to see, presumably. They’ll have a hard time getting me back. Once bitten, twice shy. I’m tired of paying to be called names and patronized. I’d rather watch I Love Lucy reruns. They’re more entertaining and a lot cheaper.
Last night we saw Tina at the Pantages. It’s a juke box musical about Tina Turner so they used her famous songs. The book was okay, but I liked the movie better. All the singers were great. Either Naomi Rogers or Zurin Villanueva, not sure which, did a nice turn as Tina (turn, get it?). The program lists two women in the part. Maybe they take turns just to save their voices. That would make sense. But whichever woman I saw had a great voice. She belted for two hours. I liked what she did, but I saw Tina perform live. And there’s only one Tina. I imagine the actress will develop her own style–if she hasn’t already. Anyway, it was a pleasant way to spend an evening. I think the show is moving on in a week because we have Beetlejuice tickets next week. So much fun….
We had breakfast then loaded the Bus and climbed aboard. I found the best way to do it was to put my right foot on the step, grab the frame handle provided with my right hand, and swing myself up. It was like mounting a horse backwards and upside down. But it worked for me. We left Moab’s Hampton Inn for another national park. Canyonlands is spectacular. All the vistas are grand and VAST, but you can’t really take it in with a phone pic. We stopped at lots of viewing areas and wandered a little. The country is amazing; I recommend visiting, especially if you’re into hiking. We’re a little old for it–or maybe we’re just not that into hiking–so we enjoyed the stops and drove on to Capital Reef National Park. We were puzzled by all the fruit trees, so we stopped at the ranger station to learn about the area. Apparently, Mormons had tried to settle the area. They planted all the trees, built a school, and did their best to make a home. It was just too far from any other settlements, so the area was abandoned. The fruit trees continue to thrive. They were in bloom when we were there, so it was lovely. We stopped to view the petroglyphs left by a native colony that disappeared before the Mormons came. The story is they went to the stars. Maybe they were abducted by aliens, who knows. But nobody could make a go of the place. So now it’s a national park. I’m glad the area is being saved.
We’d had enough parks by that time, so we drove another 3 hours to our next stop. We stayed at a Motel 8. It was the best of the available hotels at Aurora (I think that was the name of the town) but it stood in stark contrast to the Boulderado and the Hampton Inn. It was clean (I think) but the chemical smell was overpowering and unpleasant. I wonder what germs they were trying to kill. It was Sunday night so no restaurants in town were open. Those Mormons take that Day of Rest advisory to heart. One other thing that was different about Utah was the fact that you can have a beer or a glass of wine with dinner, but you can’t see it being poured. They call it the Zion Curtain. Hey, their place, their rules. Anyway, the only place to eat was an Arby’s at the truck stop so we ate with the long-haul truckers. It reminded me of my youth when a truck-stop Arby’s was fine dining for me. Not only were the dinner order numbers being called, shower numbers were yelled out. That was new for me. Truckers take a number for their turn at a shower. After smelling the Motel 8 room I understood why truckers prefer to sleep in their cabs. But it was just for one night. We had coffee and fruit the next morning and set off in The Bus for Salt Lake City.
We had reservations at the Peery Hotel, an historic downtown Salt Lake City hotel, but we couldn’t check in until 3. So, we wandered. We tried to get into the train depot, but it was closed for renovations. We finally found a visitor’s center and the lady there told us if we hurried, we could make the noon organ concert at the Mormon Tabernacle. We ran over and were in time to slide in the back. The organ is HUGE. And the organist was gifted. It was a lovely concert. We walked over to a small auditorium for a short service afterward and listened to a pianist play Clair de Lune. Music is a huge part of the Mormon service. A trainee gave a short sermon which relied solely on the bible–not a peep from the Book of Mormon. Then there was more music. It was a pleasant way to spend an hour. Afterwards, we drove to the capitol building but didn’t go on a tour. We’ve both been there before. We had Thai food down by the old trolley center then decided we needed a nap. We gambled that we could check into the Peery early and won. They checked us in at 2:30. We took a nap then investigated the hotel before looking for someplace for dinner. I love these historic old places with their fine wooden staircases and lovely ceilings. I’m glad Hilton took it over. We went across the street to have a beer. I was suffering from “It’s almost time to go home and I’m sick to my stomach”. I had a locally brewed beer and Gordon had chili as we watched the Lakers get swept by the Nuggets. We had an early night.
The next morning, we had the “free” breakfast provided by the hotel. It was great–much better than the Hampton Inn buffet. We had some time, so we went out to the Great Salt Lake. We were told that it’s down by almost a third. The water that used to end up in the lake is now being diverted for agriculture. There seemed to be some sentiment to change that, but the West has been in a drought for years. Think we all need a wet cycle.
We caught our plane and flew home. Maggie was happy to see us. She survived all by herself. Our neighbor came over and spent time with her, so she didn’t get too lonesome. Thank God for good neighbors. But it was good to be home. I was glad we saw some amazing parks and Gordon got his ‘road-trip’ jones off. Maybe next time we won’t have to horse a bus around.
Canyonlands. Vast. I wanted to include a picture of the petroglyphs, but it didn’t come out.
Gordon and I felt the need to get out of town, so we decided to tour some national parks. We’d been to Zion and Bryce, so Arches National Park in Utah was next on our list. Unfortunately, it’s hours away from any major airport. We flew into Denver because we wanted to see an old band and high school buddy of Gordon’s, Bill, and his wife, Dawn. We’d taken a Baltic cruise with them and wanted to talk about an upcoming Viking Christmas cruise. Dawn invited us to a six o’clock dinner and we planned to drive to Boulder and check into our hotel before driving to their house. We were scheduled to land in Denver at 3:30 so we thought we had plenty of time. As usual, we planned and God laughed. The flight was half an hour late because we had fly around a thunderstorm. Ok, still so far so good. We managed to flag down an airport van and beat the crowd to the car rental building, 15 minutes away from the terminal. Then Gordon stood in line as I guarded our luggage. He stood in line for half an hour. We were lucky; other people who caught a later van were stuck in a snake dance that took an hour. When Gordon got his turn, he was told that, despite his reservation, all the sedans had already been rented. We could wait 3 hours for a sedan to be returned or we could take a Chevy Suburban. We opted for the Suburban even though it was HUGE. We could have invaded a small country in that thing, but it had lots of room for luggage. And we were tired of waiting. The size of the Surburban didn’t bother Gordon. He spent his formative years driving school buses so the Suburban didn’t scare him, thank God, but it only got 20 miles per gallon. I was not happy, but we were running so late I didn’t bitch–much. We got caught in Denver’s rush hour, of course, so I finally just relaxed and endured. We were going to be late whatever we did. Thank God for cell phones; we kept Dawn apprised of our whereabouts. We checked into the Bolderado Hotel (I declined the bellman’s offer to take our luggage–too slow), got changed and took off for Billy and Dawn’s
I’d never been to their house before so I was curious. There were lovely trees outside but the backyard was spectacular. Dawn has filled her home with lots of collectibles. It’s charming and fanciful. And dinner was delicious. The only disappointment was that they had to cancel the upcoming Viking cruise. Billy has some medical issues that make travel inconvenient right now. We hope those issues are resolved so they can take the Athens/Venice cruise coming up.
We took time to inspect the hotel when we got back. The Bolderado is historic and gorgeous. Our room was stuffed with antiques. We took a pre-breakfast walk around Boulder and enjoyed looking at the mansions and historic downtown. We took one last look at the hotel, had breakfast, then got in The Bus (my name for the Suburban) and took off for Moab.
We considered staying at Grand Junction for a night but I’m glad we decided to drive straight through to Moab. It was a six hour drive but I never got bored. We went from a mountain climate, to prairie, to desert. I particularly enjoyed Highway 128. It curled through an almost Martian landscape. It prepared me for Moab.
We checked into a Hampton Inn. Gordon’s points got us up-graded to a suite; that was nice. The next day we tried to book a river rafting trip, but they were sold out. We finally decided to take a 4×4 ATV tour. I’d taken an ATV tour in Alaska and enjoyed it. We’d gone up hill and down dale, bumped over some rocks, and saw snowshoe hares. It was pleasant. The Moab tour was nothing like that. The guide gave us our instructions (“Keep your hands and feet inside the cage, hang on, and trust the machine”) and we followed him to the hills. The engine labored so loudly I thought we were burning it up, but the guide said it always sounded like that. When we got to the starting point, he told us to put our ATV in low gear and leave it there. And we went up the rocks. The first 20 minutes were sheer terror for me. Gordon gunned the ATV up the rocks. When we got to the top we couldn’t see anything. We took it on faith that the guide was ahead of us and zoomed over. We almost rear-ended him. I kept saying, “Jesus”, over and over. I don’t know if it was an epithet or a prayer, probably a little of both. Gordon got good at staying an appropriate distance from the guide but we almost tipped over into a ravine twice. At least that’s my opinion. I could feel the ATV tipping and I stamped my feet and butt up and down and hung on for dear life. It must have worked because we stayed upright. After about an hour of this I put my trust in the machine (and Gordon) and started to enjoy the adventure. It was fun but it’s not for the faint of heart. At the end the guide asked me why I didn’t scream. I told him I didn’t want to distract Gordon. He was the only thing keeping me alive. The guide laughed but I was serious. We survived 2 1/2 hours of jolting over boulders then had a light lunch. My stomach was a bit touchy. We had a nap then took our drive through Arches (you need an appointment, LOTS of tourists). It has spectacular scenery. When we went to dinner that night, an Australian mother and son who sat next to us commented that they’d been to Maine, driven cross country, and were now in Moab. They were impressed by how diverse the United States is. They also asked for advice on tipping. I guess they don’t do that in Australia. From his tone I think the son wanted to emigrate. He loved the place. Well, I can’t blame him; so do I. We went back to the hotel early. We’re getting a little old for so much adventure. And we had more parks in investigate the next day.
The ceiling at the Boulderado Hotel
Gordon in downtown Boulder. Don’t know if the city is named after the rock.
This is us in our 4×4 helmets…and the rocks we surfed.
Gordon’s optical illusion. He wasn’t really falling.
Two weeks ago, Bucky beat us out the front door. We didn’t worry much. He’d beaten us before and always came home safely. At nine that night I was in the backyard, calling his name and shaking the treat cannister. He roared around but refused to come in. I had a headache, so I went to bed early. Gordon tried to get him in at eleven, but Bucky refused to come in. Even treats didn’t work. We gave up on him and went to bed. We didn’t seriously worry about him. He’d done this before. We left the cat door open so he could come in when he wanted. We even put some treats down but Maggie ate them. She was perfectly happy to stay inside with the old folks.
The next morning there was still no Bucky. We didn’t seriously start to worry. Maggie had disappeared and missed breakfast. I called in her micro-chip number and reported her missing. She came tearing into the house at about noon. We speculated that someone tried to catnap her (she’s a gorgeous calico) but she got away. I notice she stays mostly in the back yard now. I called in Bucky’s number and reported him missing hoping we’d have the same result. No such luck. Tuesday morning, I searched the neighborhood, looking for a body. I checked the backyards and easements of the two houses to the right of us and the three houses to the left. I figured if a coyote got him, I’d find something. But there was no body or any evidence that there’d been a fight or a killing. I wondered if Bucky had been catnapped. It’d happened before to a cat we had named Fosdick (he was fearless and friendly and loved people). Fosdick was gone a month and we’d given him up for dead when he came tearing across the street and into the house. And he never went near people again. I’m still hoping that Bucky is trapped somewhere. I was disturbed when I put up fliers with a picture of Bucky and our phone number and they were immediately taken down. Who would do that unless they didn’t want Bucky found? But I don’t know. ..
So, I checked the local shelter and made sure they had his microchip number listed as missing. I don’t know what else to do.
We miss him. Maggie has to play with us and we’re not much fun. Bucky spent more time with Gordon than he did with me. He helped Gordon work and go to the bathroom. Bucky was involved. He played tag with me. I called it “Bucky, Bucky” and chased him around the house.
Bucky was probably the smartest cat we’ve ever had. We were so pleased that we provided the food and medicine that made him healthy. I still remember the shelter people advising me not to take him. They didn’t think he’d survive. He grew up to be gorgeous and personable. We miss him.
We’ve talked about getting another companion for Maggie. I don’t like to leave her alone when we travel. Our neighbor spent time with her when we left for 6 days but we can’t ask him to do that. He has enough in his life to do.
We looked at the available cats when we looked for Bucky at the shelter. I thought a yearling male would probably be best for Maggie, but Gordon thought two kittens would be best. Gordon loves kittens. We’ll see. I’m going to wait until July before making a decision. I still hope Bucky will come home–if he’s alive. I know he was probably killed by coyotes but without a body…who knows. He could still be alive. I hope so. But I’m prepared for the worst.
