Pat
Pat
April 26, 2024
“These will be your final three weeks of training. Pass or fail, you will be deployed. Whether you succeed or not, will be up to you. Patricia, do you understand?”
“My name is Pat. Call me Pat or I will fail, intentionally.”
My trainer expected this level of resistance. He grabbed my arm and injected me with a dose of some type of drug that makes one pass out.
“Patricia, here you are not a young man. So stop acting like one.”
When I awoke, he had dressed me for the role I was to play.
I was wearing a corset and petticoats, heels, a gown, and makeup.
Actually, I was locked into the former, which squeezed me tightly, barely permitting movement, let alone breathing. The latter reinforced what little control I had at my disposal.
“Patricia, as of now, you are on a severely restricted diet. You must have a 19 inch waist soon. You must learn to act as a lady of the court immediately. Please arise, Patricia and make the most of what you still have.”
“My name is Pat.”
I never finished my remarks.
Men always have the ability to hit you in the face exactly where it hurts the most. My trainer struck me hard enough to send me to the floor. I covered my face with my hand as he approached, grabbed my arm, and pulled me up. He took me into his arms and told me to follow his steps. The music began (from where?) and he began to teach me to dance.
“This is the waltz. Patricia, pay attention.”
“My name is not . . .”
He threw me against the wall for the outburst. This time he picked me up across his knees, hiked my petticoats, and began spanking me.
I could not resist. When I screamed, he only hit me harder. When I whimpered, his force subsided. When I stopped, he stopped.
Then we began dancing again.
He told me to smile, or else.
He asked me. “What is your name?”
Instinctively, I replied, “Pat”.
I have not eaten in two days. My bruises may heal in twice that time.
By Friday, I learned the waltz, how to curtsey, and some polite phrases in both French and German. That night, his helpers removed my corset and heels while they bathed me and I ate.
By midnight, I was back to dancing. By 3 am, I was to learn how to write a proper letter. Ironically, morning began my attendance in code school.
My trainer asked my name while holding a tray of real food. I wanted to say, Pat. I wanted to escape the indignities I have been put through.
However, I wanted to eat more than anything else.
So, I acquiesced. I said, “Patricia.”
For this, my trainer hit me harder than ever. His fist found its mark against my lower abdomen. If not for the corset, he would have ruptured both my kidneys and liver.
“Tell me your name. Make me believe you are who you say you are. Say it like the woman you are meant to be. Do this or never leave here alive.”
So many people had worked so hard to transform me to a proper lady. My trainer spent all of his time enforcing my change. I had no other choice.
I introduced myself as Patricia, here to make your acquaintance.” It was all an act, what I thought he wanted to hear. It was good enough.
My trainer placed the food tray on the bed, turned, and departed. I never encountered him or his attacks again.
I slept soundly on a bed for the first time since being brought here. I feasted on a simple breakfast. I still had two “servants” forcing me back in a corset, petticoat, and gown.
I did not complain.
But I did wonder.
Every question began with a “Why”. Every answer led to more questions.
By noon, I was formally invited to the laboratory (this place had a lab?). Remaining in character, I accepted and was escorted accordingly.
Upon entering, my escort departed and I witnessed the machine energize. The prompts told me of the expectations and why I was here alone. I was to travel back in time to New York City, 1895. I would be escorted by no one. My goal would be obvious soon after my arrival.
The last prompt was hand written on a sheet of paper. It read, “Do what you must.”
There was no name attached, but I knew the author.
By this time the lights of the machine shone brightly and I was part of my own past.
The UPS driver arrived earlier than usual. The package he carried made him rethink his decision not to use a dolly to move its girth and weight.
The employees at Richmond Research saw the name of Henry Miller and directed the package to his office.
It sat there collecting dust for the next three weeks. Mr. Miller, arriving for a full day’s work with a boxer’s wrap around each of hands, found it difficult to unwrap the package with the injury a fighter participating in a bare knuckles brawl frequently encountered. It was his birthday, November 5, and he had high expectations. By 10:30am, his expectations exceeded even his wildest dreams.
The NY Times from this day in 1895 spoke of Patricia Sullivan, adventuress who halted the bombing of City Hall. Her actions preceded the election of Secretary of State, Attorney General, State Comptroller, State Engineer, a Court of Appeals Judge, members of the NY State Assembly and the State Senate, and saving her newly engaged finance, Mr. Walter Miller of Miller Woodworks in Queens. Miss Patricia took action defeating the ruffians planting the explosive device, impervious to their fisticuffs upon her midsection. Miss Patricia saved the lives of scores of people this day and was personally married the next by the Mayor of the City himself.
Various photographs of the future Mrs. Miller with her four children and six grandchildren adorned his desktop. While each one had a monetary value to the discerning collector, only one held a sentimental value for him. In it, a doting grandmother, wearing a corset of years past, carries her small grandson, sporting a clearly visible skunk patch of hair, while walking across 5th Avenue, in 1965.
The trainer instinctively ran his hand through his not so clearly visible skunk patch of hair that he used to show as a child. Old age removed the coloration of his remaining browns to match his always present whites.
A single tear ran from his eyes.
Then a small smile arose.
He then knew his real work had just begun.
Stepping
Stepping
April 25, 2024
The future is a locale demarcating where you originated from where you must go.
It is not a rest stop or a place for reflection.
It is a stepping stone.
You are only a visitor when your feet grace its presence.
The onus is not rest, but progress.
Others will follow the path you blaze,
If and only if you blaze the path
For they will not listen to excuses, nor should they.
Taking It All In
Taking It All In
April 22, 2024
I told her to switch
I would drive and she could sleep
However, the car was not to stop
My left foot covered the gas pedal
She used her right foot to raise up
The fit was tight
She sat on my lap and slid to her right
Very slowly
I took the wheel to keep the car on the road
She placed her hand on my thigh to help her move
But she didn’t
Honestly, I didn’t want her to
She just remained where she was
Such is her nature
Awaiting my next move
My left hand moved to her thigh
That spot where the skirt slit opens
She adjusted to permit my success
I smiled to permit further adjustments
The car kept moving
Taking it all in
Worth
Worth
April 21, 2024
The mud you track into your house
Is the same mud of mostly clay
From which beautiful pottery emerges
The tree that drops millions of leaves for you to rake
Is the same tree that provides summer shade
And the sturdy planks to construct your house
The cow and pig manure of disdainful of odor
Grows the tastiest vegetables
And the nicest roses
Mosquitos that ruin your day, numbering in the millions
Are the feed stock of every spring bird
And every melodic song you covet
Everything has a purpose, even if not yet discovered
Even if ugly on the surface and disparaging to the core
So what is yours and when will we notice its worth?
The State of the World Speech
April 20, 2024
The State of the World Speech
Always in great shape, even at this moment
Nearly 5 billion years old, but only looks 4
Prone to catering extinction level events
Have been covered in lava
Have been frozen over
Atmosphere changes more often than a child’s mind in a candy shop
Predisposed to cyano/sulfur/oxygen-deficient choices
Only fear from Sol’s nova threats
Knows it will happen
Knows it won’t happen today
Whatever!
Currently hosting a variety of “life” dominated by uppity bipedal hominins
Luna believes it is an infection
Most likely will clear-up on its own soon
Until then, got a dance class
Today’s agenda - Precessing
How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yet meat?
How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?
Day four without food.
The man on the radio said I need only wait another hour.
His boat would arrive.
His boat with food.
96 hours consuming only fresh water.
I looked for a crab or an insect,
To tie me over.
But to no avail.
The boat arrived on schedule.
The skiff pulled into the lagoon.
I was saved.
Only I wasn’t.
His offer, Percheron, Appaloosa, and Morgan choice cuts.
Tenderloins, steaks, and burgers galore.
My response,
“Do you have butterscotch pudding?”
Sunrise on a barren island.
My internal clock now passes 100 hours.
The man with the skiff now waits patiently offshore.
Reorganizing his menu to include a new variety of selections.
Title: Courtesy of Pink Floyd, The Wall
I Dig a French Bikini on Hawaii Island Dolls by a Palm Tree in the Sand
I Dig a French Bikini on Hawaii Island Dolls by a Palm Tree in the Sand
She danced in the penumbra
Her shadow became as iridescent as the leaves of the trees accompanying her
I was intrigued at the spectacle
Once she turned my way
Once she lifted her head
Once she opened her eyes to make contact
I was gobsmacked
I was smitten
I was beholden to her beauty
And she knew it
She never spoke to me
At least verbally
Using her “come hither” appeal
I was unable to resist
I was unable to want such a decision
I left my drink on the table
I left my paperwork to the winds
I might have counter-offered her beck and call
I might have cured world hunger
Such were my odds to endure the inevitable
Every year, we return to that locale
Every year, she displays her growing portfolio of skills
Last year, our child arrived in situ
This year, he arrived in hand
Even at his age, he watched his mother dance
As I always will
Title: Courtesy of the Beach Boys, California Girls
ratio decidendi v. obiter dictum
ratio decidendi v obiter dictum
“The deed is done.”
“Tell me the details.”
“I used an icicle and a running start. He mounted a resistance inversely proportional to the depth of my thrust. He took much longer than I expected to fall; much longer to surrender. A man with his heart condition and his pharmaceutical obligations almost turned the tables on me. This had me worried, so much so, I kept the pressure until I lost grip of the impromptu weapon as it melted within his (ironically matching) cold demeanor.”
“Did anyone see you? Did anyone come to investigate?
“Neither. I secured the room and kept my gloves on the entire time. With as many friends he has, the room is sure to have too many fingerprints for the police to sort out.”
“Consider your end of the bargain complete. I will attend to my end today. From this moment on, never call me and I will never call you.”
“Agreed.”
“Who was that?”
“Hold on a second. I’m getting a text.”
“Come on back to bed. I’m lonely without you. How about another round?
“Just one minute more. I have to make an important decision.”
“Does it involve me or what you want to do with me?”
“Let’s just say a little bit of both.”
“Put the cuffs on your wrists and the ironwork on the headboard. I will secure your legs when I see fit.”
“Kinky! This is a side of you I have yet to see.”
“Put me in the mood, babe. Before we start, in regards to that last call, would you give a liar a second chance?”
“Baby, if it was you, I’d give you all of the chances you’d want. This is getting exciting. What are you going to do?”
“Well, if you must know, that call was from your husband. We made a deal that he would kill my father so I could inherit his fortune without waiting twenty more years to do so. In exchange, I agreed to kill you, his wife, for your constant infidelity. What you're looking at is a personal favorite of mine, a Colt Woodsman pistol. It is complete with a silencer to keep noisy people from investigating.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“That was the plan, until I received a text, ironically, from my father. He texts that he was stabbed, and the paramedics are taking him to the hospital for better care. He says he will live and I should join him there.”
“So, there is no reason to kill me?”
“Your husband lied to me. I can’t stand liars. He has to die. Furthermore, I can’t stand witnesses. This morning was memorable, but business is business. A man has to learn accountability and possibly some Latin. Sorry.”
At First Sight
At First Sight
Perhaps it was his perfectly white teeth
She had not previously noticed
Until he made sure she did
Perhaps it was his boyish charm
Most likely of Midwest origin
Complete with an “Aww shucks” and “Thank you, Ma’am”
Perhaps it was his slightly tousled hair
Coupled with defined arm muscles and calloused hands
Reminders to all of an honest day’s work
But it was his eyes making contact with her
Steely blue, almost wolf-like in color
Definitely wolf-like in intent
She was smitten before she could take a second breath
Receiving her change was the impetus for touching hands
The electricity powered the reverberation all the way to the altar.