When we Cum Face to Face

From your Author’s:

Calling on Angels.

First, I’d like to thank my ‘number one reader’ and his never-ending comments. You know who you are, G. I thanked him this morning for his well-wishes and extended my own. ‘Calling on Angels’.

My Grandson and I are collaborating on this and a lot centers around, The Fourth of July. But we are going to talk about Thanksgiving day. I will say, I’ve lived a charmed life, have more than I need, and the love of my boys. ‘You need to just watch people more’. Calling on Angles.

This Thanksgiving we did something that I think will become a tradition for, ‘The Chancellors. We unplugged for the day and set out to, ‘Pay it Forward. The youngest didn’t understand. ‘You can fix or start healing a person with just one thing.’

It started at the coffee stand where I got my coffee and the boy’s hot chocolate. I gave the girl a hundred bucks: and said this is for the cars behind me, “And this one is for you, hun; thanks for being here today.” And I smiled.

I saw him on the same corner, a man holding a sign; dog, and belongings by his side. “Disabled Vet. Anything helps.” His head was down.

‘Calling on Angles’.

I stopped in the fuckin intersection, got out walking up to him; his dog stood as I approached. Horns honking. I squatted down in front of them, the guy told his dog to sit. It could have been a minute; or five. We had a conversation without words, just eyes, talking. Calling on Angles.

“Thank you for your service,” And I handed my denomination for the day, giving him, a hundred-dollar bill. Probably the best part of my day.

We pulled into a restaurant that was a nice place to have breakfast back in the day. Today, it was run down with cheap food that was palatable, and I parked the car looking at a shopping cart by the front door.

I’ve had this ride for over thirty years. A 1964 Lincoln town car with suicide doors. Pearled Gloss black, white walls, and airbags now. It slams to the ground when you put it in park. I’m not really keen on that.

Two years ago I had a retro-fit done. The 429 was rebuilt along with the suspension. All new wires allowing a backup cam, that new cruise control thing, and some other stuff; RJC, is still on the plate.

We passed other cars packed with what looked like, belongings, as we made our way to the door. “It smells in here, Grampy,” my youngest said; his brother elbowed him.

“Grampy? Robby? What the hell? That fuckin hurt.”

“I’m gonna put a red wrist snapping rubber on you, poddy mouth,” I told him.

‘He got my; shut the fuck up, look’. We took three stools at the bar and I scrolled faces and body language because that’s all I can do. Everybody was looking down at their food or just the table; It was sad. We ordered.

I sat between them because that’s where I belonged. What can I say??? Sitting between two Angles.

“Grampy,” My youngest said. “This tastes like crap.” OK. My head just launched off my shoulders; like blast off. I don’t often growl at them. You would have to see me.

“You will put a smile on your face right now, young man. And you will be thankful for what you have. Now… clean your-fuckin… plate.” I told him in a whisper through gritted teeth. He had just pissed me off.

Calling on Angles.

I am fortunate and because of that, my boys are too. I opened the safe before we left, grabbed a stack with a band around it, and covered my double holsters with a jacket. I looked at Robby staring at his food. “I’ll be right back, Slick.” as I walked to the bathroom.

The place only held about fifteen tables, I did the math and pulled out five bills putting them in my shirt pocket. I gave my Grandson the honors waiting till his hand found mine. “Hot Chocolate for everybody; with mushrooms,” he told the lady clearing the dishes in front of us.

“WHAT?” She asked. It wasn’t just the word but her whole body asked the same question.

“Sorry. Sorry. Marshmallow.” I was fuckin doubled over. I thought I was gonna cough up a lung.

She brought the bill and he looked at me with a smile; then his brother. He told her, “we’ll take all of them.” And she looked at me.

I shrugged and she started adding them up. Robby took what I gave him and counted under the bar handing two over. I handed over another and thanked her for giving up the day to be here for us.

As we walked out Robby took another bill and stood in front of the cart; that’s when he put one in a bag. “Get away from my shit, kid.” The guy said coming out, ready.

I stepped between them, my right hand going under my coat to the left side without even one consideration. ‘You are gonna fuckin die, dude!’ I’d have put a hole in my coat and we could have been gone.

Robby moved in front of me. “I didn’t touch your stuff, sir; I’m sorry. I put something in your bag, Happy Thanksgiving.”

‘Ok, I’m just gonna cry for a minute. I have never put a hand on my gun unless someone’s gonna die. That guy was only a second away. I need to be more careful!

That was how our day went. We cruised around, stopped at a mission, a tent camp, and my youngest saw things he didn’t know existed.

We hit fire stations and the last one was hard. I walked in with the boys, the place smells like rubber. I saw guys who brought my son and their dad back to life three years ago today after he overdosed.

With the boys behind me, I shook all their hands and thanked them. I couldn’t give them anything but you can get around that if you understand. “This is for the fallen.” I gave them the last of what I had.

Now I’m not bragging, I’ve been blessed beyond words only a song can describe.

As weak as means can be; we all have it in our power to help someone. You help one, that person helps two, then four, and so on. I’m not talking about money. It could just be as easy as, lending an ear, or a ride. Does it seem hard???

Calling on Angels.

It could be something as simple: well just letting someone spend the night on your couch. Maybe holding the door for the person behind or in front of you, and them doing it the next time. It can start like that. We have lost sight of others, it’s more about me. And the divide grows.

Robby says I’ve gone off on a rant. I don’t think I have. Pay it Forward. It was an exhausting day. I don’t look at money as dollars; could pass out a thousand each day for the next month. I got my money's worth today. Calling on Angels.

“What is that smell,” They asked in unison. I was glad the house hadn’t burned down.

“It’s dinner tomorrow and the next day. Music room, thirty minutes.” I told them.

“Get off your Brother!” I said walking in.

“Robby??? Don’t make me put you in the corner.”

“He-is-such-a-fuckin-dick-, Grampy!!!”

That’s just funny. “You’re right. He is. He can’t help it. Why are you so… pissed off, Little guy???”

“That is not going to happen Ben, and you will forget last night,” I said waving my hand over his head like that would make it so.

“You were talking in your sleep,” he told me after shaking me awake.

I’d fallen asleep after swimming with him in the falls. Everything we did on that rock was all a dream. Him, touching me in ways I’d never felt. How he did what he did with me inside him.

The rock was flat and hot, me inside him jacking as we came at the same time. The water from the small falls sprayed little drops of water over us as I pulled out of him.

Now as I watched him, I saw. Felt pain from him, such sad colors. “What hurts so bad, Ben? What are you trying to hide from?” And he hit the shoulder and brakes at the same time.

He slammed it, in park, as dust swirled around the truck and he turned to me. “What are you doing all up in my head and shit?” As he shook his fist at me.

OK. It was high on my list of being, scared shitless. “You are running from something, Ben. I can help; will shoulder some of your pain.” And a tear slipped down his cheek.

I was good at this though it was something I never wanted. “Just take my hand,” And he rubbed his nose across a dusty arm but, he took my hand.

I saw him at my age; 14. Soccer, wrestling, and baseball. He was at the top of his game; drinking most of the time.

He would get wasted and become the pass-around-kid, to the older boys. “I am such a fuck up; they all hate me,” He shared.

“I have been one disappointment after another.” He said out loud.

“Ben. I saw what you did last night. You know that’s not true. Your Dad is proud of you, thinks you’re smarter than he is.” I smiled.

“I don’t know how that could even be possible considering he devours books like a kid with sunflower seeds.” That got me a smile and a nod.

“How could he be proud of me when I’m such a fuck-up?” He asked.

“A lot of the shit you’ve done; not so much. But the things you have done right make him proud.” Ben needed to know that.

“Your special,” and he touched my nose.

“So what was your dream about?” He asked with a smile pulling back out on the road.

I suddenly realized my crotch was sloppy wet and it wasn’t missed by, Ben. We pulled in and he went to his Dad first as I changed. I saw hugs go around the yard and Grampy asked what that was about? The door opened.

“Want to go shooting with us.” His oldest friends’, oldest son, asked me.

“What???” That is my ‘go-to word when I need a minute to think.

In slow motion, he asked again? “Do-you-want-to-go-shooting-with-us?” Kind of doing sign language at the same time sounding deaf, like I was stupid.

Ok! He had just pissed me off. I turned to Grampy and he pulled a 9 from the cushion; laughing. “Don’t shoot him in the bus, Slick. I mean we’re in Idaho, but still.” He told me.

I nodded with a smile. That was just funny. They had guns I’d never seen before, shot at targets three times farther than I had ever hit when Grampy set them up. I think he has been stroking me?

I never thought about anything more than twenty-five feet away. Annie stepped up behind me after missing all of them.

Her hands came around me and then her fingers were covering mine. Ok. I think I just creamed my cutoffs. Her chin rested on my shoulder and her boobs were running back and forth across my shoulder blades. “Breath with me.” She told me in the most, sultry-fuckin-voice. And then she nipped my ear. It didn’t sound like a request.

I did as she said listening to her in my ear giving instructions on what I needed to do. “Breath, Baby Driver,” and her hands came off mine.

“Take a breath, and when you let it out, squeeze the trigger.” She kissed my neck when I hit the first target.

This went on for a while with me shooting all kinds of pistols using her advice every time. Then the long guns came out. “The ones up on the hill; pick one of them, and shoot it,” The oldest of the siblings told me.

I’d never shot a gun like this before but didn’t like being called, ‘Baby Driver. I’d seen the fuckin movie. Yes, he was cute. Bad move.

The gun went off and kicked my left shoulder so hard, I thought I was gonna fall down. “Dude???” Came as a choir.

“Baby! That is gonna leave a fuckin bruise. Can you move your arm??? Your Dad is gonna be so pissed.” She ranted.

“Dude??? Why didn’t you tuck it in?” Asked Ben, and his brother, at the same time.

OK! Now I was, pissed all over again. “You said point and shoot. That’s what I did. I hope, you are, sat-is-fied.” And my head rocked back and forth.

“Annie, you got an ice bag?” And she turned back to the trucks.

“You never said you hadn’t shot a gun like this,” They said at the same time.

“And??? And??? Who-asked-me-if, I had shot a gun that kicks like a fuckin bull; I presume?” They looked at each other. I really would have liked a warning.

Annie walked up with a blue-ice. “It’s already starting to turn colors; you can move your arm, right?”

“Look guys, this is not on me. One of you is taking the blame.” And the brothers pointed at each other.

“I’ll just wear a tee-shirt; nobody needs to take any fuckin blame for me.” Hallelujah.

“I could just crash all three of your heads together,” She told us like she was the eldest sister, and I guess, being the only girl, she was.

“I know a secret!” I returned. “When the time is right, I’m gonna gobsmack you with it in the fuckin face.” And I poked her in the chest.

“Are we going back now?” And we all moved to the trucks.

We couldn’t have been back more than half an hour; I looked at my shoulder in the mirror trying to rotate it. It was turning the nicest colors of green, blue, and black. “We’re going down the river, Dude?” Ben said finding me.

“I am not taking the blame for that.” He announced, seeing me in the mirror.

I thought but didn’t ask, ‘when have you ever taken the blame, Ben’?

“It’s on me, B. I fell when your sister pushed me.” He laughed so hard he farted.

“I’m good with that, Driver. My brother will back you up. We’re flouting the river. You cuming???”

“What???” You know this is my ‘I need to minute’ word.

“Get out of my fuckin way, brick,” Grampy said. It didn’t work.

“We’re floating the river, Grampy.” And we both pushed past him.

We had tubes and blow-ups, they passed beers to me not considering I hadn’t had breakfast yet. Annie hooked her feet around mine pulling our tubes together. “I know a secret.” She said with that fuckin girl look. It doesn’t work on everybody but it was working on me today.

Now she was all girl with nice boobs in a bikini top and cutoffs. Her hair was wet pulled back and I could see her freckles. And that fuckin smile.

“And what might that be?” I asked all cocky, adjusting myself in the tube.

“SOMEONE’ is ticklish.” And she went at my foot.

OK. Ok, ok. She was right. But she didn’t know, I am ticklish… to-the-extreme. My foot came back, completely out of control, and my heel caught her forehead launching that sweet ass off the tube. FUCK.

“Get her Ben.” I heard. Wait? What?

We pulled up and their Mom was meeting us. “What happened?” she asked flustered.

“Honey. Your forehead.”

“We’re good, Mom. Someones, just ticklish.” They said in unison.

We all rode in the back of the truck with me getting looks. I smiled when we parked and Grampy was laying it down. But, Wait? What?

Billy Idol. He’d pulled the amp out, had a headset mic on, “Oh, I’d do anything---, for my sweet sixteen.” His words were honest. Did we happen to pull up at the right time??? I totally understood.

“And I’d do anything---, for my little runaway boy.” He must have had the speakers at max.

Shit, just, kind of stopped moving. “You gave my heart an engagement ring---, but-you-took everything. Everything I gave you. My-sweet-sixteen…” His eyes were closed and his friend was standing in front of him, shaking his head with a glass in his hand.

We all just sat in the back of the truck. “I built a room for our rocking chairs, never thought yours would rock so far from mine.” And I got out of the truck walking towards him and stood next to his friend shaking my own head.

Think about, that. You build a life and a room, for rocking chairs. He had. A room they would grow old in this time.

“I would do anything, for my sweet sixteen, oh I’d do anything, for that runaway boy.” His eyes hadn’t opened.

He strummed an electric, his voice cuming from everywhere. “And I’d do anything---, for my sweet sixteen.” Mouths were open, listening.

“And I’d do anything---, for my runaway boy. Yes, it’s sad, lonely, and blue, getting over you. How can I possibly get over you?” The words paused as he picked strings.

Ok? I had missed something. I’d read about him doing this, But. “I know I’m sad and lonely still; as I try getting over you.” I watched him next to his friend and kids, now.

His eyes still hadn’t opened, “Wipe away my tears---, getting over you; how do you think it feels, getting over you??? My-sweet-sixteen? My little runaway lover.”

OK. My headshot off my shoulders. Grampy had just outed himself to his friend along with his children. His eyes never opened.

OK. I had gotten stoned with them last night; we shared. Then, Ben. Went shooting, then down the river; something had fuckin happened. ‘Sweet sixteen’.

Ok. The Fourth. His sweet sixteen. That was the day Grampy, knew. But why was he doing it, today?

“My Sweet Sixteen… My little run-away boy?”

His eyes opened and twenty pairs of eyes looked back. My fuckin Brother. “Can we turn it down now, Grampy?” My brother asked.

I was searching for something I could throw, and I wasn’t the only one. Annie marched towards him and he ran back in the bus. “I don’t get you.” His buddy told him.

Grampy smiled so big. “You are such a fuckin ass, you know that, right; and that’s why you never will. But I totally get you.” And he smiled as his friend just shook his head.

My Sweet Sixteen.

I went through the gate, reached for his phone, and walked around the bus. I searched YouTube. Everybody followed me.

It came up on the big screen, KD Lang. Sure, I was doing Karaoke. The music started. ‘I heard you struck a secret cord, Grampy. That pleased the lord.” And I ruffled his hair.

I looked around. “But you don’t really care for music, do you?” He sat down with a smile. Now there were fifty sets of eyes on me.

“He saw you bathing on the roof. His beauty, and the moonlight, over through you.” I was being more than mellow dramatic. My hands, eyes, and face, telling the whole story. I looked at him.

He shook his head and mouthed, no.

“He drew a Hallelujah, from you.” And I looked at him, smiling.

“Why are you doing this?” I read his lips.

“Maybe there’s a god above? But, all you’ve told me of love, is how to shoot somebody, who outdrew you.”

“Don’t.”

Sorry, Grampy. “You tied him to your kitchen chair, cut his golden fuckin hair, and you cried, Hallelujah.” ‘I’m not gonna cry. OK, I’m gonna fuckin cry.’

I pulled myself together. Hallelujah.

More people were walking up, it wasn’t so much, karaoke, I was screaming. “Hallelujah.” I trashed my voice.

Have I said how much I hate my brother? He was in the bus: tears running down his cheeks. I’d have pushed him if he hadn’t held his arms out.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Robby?” He asked in my ear. “This shit with Grampy; You’re gonna have a fuckin breakdown.”

“Been there, done that, Bro. Ain’t gonna happen again.”

From your Author’s.

This is on Robby. He was the one who said nothing over two thousand words. But we both went off track at the beginning.

“Why don’t they like us, Grampy?” He asked.

“What do you mean.”

“Not even a hundred and fifty read the last chapter, didn’t even rank a nine.”

“OK. Ok. We should have never started this. Don’t get hung up on that shit.”

“I’m not hung up on that shit. I just don’t know where readers get off?”

“Who’s on a rant: now? You need to back the fuck off. Readers. That’s all they are, nameless, faceless, readers. Some post or comment, but many more move on when they don’t find what they want in what we write.”

RJC.