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Here’s Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3
And this is Chapter 4

4

‘5:15 To
The Mainland’

             To get to
the Mount Stewart Train Station, Yune had to drive along Route 2.  On his way, to ease the tension, he reflected
on some of the nice times he and Doctor Dewar had had driving all along that
very route.  He enjoyed those drives
because he could enjoy the beautiful countryside, and she, because she claimed
the effects the motion of the car had on her brain enhanced her thought
power.  She had even devised an experiment
which proved such, but Yune did not understand fully how she reached her
conclusion.

            Route 2 was
the doctor’s favourite route in all of Prince Edward Island; better than the
much ballyhooed Trans Canada Highway, known as Route 1, because the Trans
Canada Highway merely crossed the Island from boat to boat, ignoring most of
Prince County and all of King’s County, starting or ending at Borden, depending
on your direction of travel, and ending or starting at Wood Islands, focusing
almost entirely on the central county called Queen’s.  And while there were some lovely sights in
Queen’s County along the Trans Canada, they were certainly not the only beauty
the Island had to offer.  Route 2, on the other hand crossed the Island
from point to point, from Tignish in Western Prince
County, to Souris,
in Eastern King’s.  Doctor Dewar felt it
was truly the Island’s Route, and Yune Mune
had to agree.

            The fast, short
drive to the train station, and Yune’s reflection on past drives, gave little
time for him to think on what he was about to do.  And for that he was glad.  Dismembering that last one, the Schprengel
girl, really made his stomach turn.  It
was so messy that he threw up.  He felt
dizzy the whole time he was carving her heart out.  On the whole, he did a sloppy job of cutting
her up.  And he didn’t take the usual
care in hiding the remains of the body that he did with the other three
girls.  It must have been an easy trail
for Constable Maubery to follow down to Fullerton’s
Marsh.  It wouldn’t have been that easy
for him to identify what little remained of the remains.  He’d have been able to tell Pristle’s body
because of the freshness of it.  The
others would’ve been all putrefied.

            Now, as he
was walking up the path that led to the station’s platform, he wondered if,
subconsciously his messiness was really a cry for help.  Maybe he wanted to get caught and end all the
killing.  But that didn’t make any sense,
because he was so sure of Doctor Dewar’s experiment being a success, and, as
she claimed, advancing the course of science one hundred years in one giant
step.  And he was confident, he told
himself, as he turned the corner around the station house, that the taking of
four girls’ lives was worth a hundred year advancement in science.

            Yune stopped
when he saw the girl on the platform. 
Make that the taking of five girls’ lives, thought Yune.  He started to approach the girl.

            “Yune Mune,”
shouted a voice, “what in the heck of Hades are you doing down here?”           Yune turned around to where the voice
had come from. It was Constable Maubery. 
My God, thought Yune, I’m caught. 
“Thank God,” he barely heard himself say.

            “Constable,
hello,” said Yune, offering his hand. 
The Constable shook it.

            “What are
you doing down here, Yune?”

            Yune found
himself wanting to tell the constable everything.  Despite the certainty of what he was doing
was right, he couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling of guilt that was weighing him
down. I’ve come to murder another girl, screamed Yune’s brain.

            “Me?  Oh, nothing,” said Yune, not able to look the
Constable in the eye.  “I mean, I am
doing something here, at the station. Yes.”

            The
Constable looked at Yune suspiciously. 
“And what would that be, Mr. Mune?”

            “I am here
for a reason,” said Yune, stalling, trying to think of a reason to be
here.  A legal reason to be here.  “I am looking for some ginsing,” he blurted
quickly.

            “What?”

            “Ginsing,”
repeated Yune.  “Sarah’s, I mean, Mrs.
Dunsford’s cousin is coming in tonight from Toronto and she may have some ginsing for
me.”

            “What’s
ginsing,” asked the Constable.

            “It’s
liquor, far as I can tell,” said Guy Maddox, coming out of the station house,
buttoning up his fly.

            “No, it is a
medicinal root,” said Yune.

            “Like a
beet?” asked Constable Maubery.

            “More or
less,” replied Yune.

            Guy Maddox
walked over to the other two men.  “You stupid
Chinaman, Yoooon.  Weren’t you listening
to Mrs. Dunsford this morning?  Her
cousin’s coming in two nights’ time.”

            “Two nights’
time?  My, yes, you are correct, Mr.
Maddox. I must have got mixed up in my nights, that is all.  I guess the horrible news about those girls’
murders has taken a toll on me.”

            “It’s taken
its toll on all of us,” said the Constable. 
“That marsh crime scene was the most horrific thing I ever seen.  The girls, all torn up, mixed together like a
human tossed salad.”

            “I’m just
glad my Josie got away, safe and sound,” said Guy.

            “Your Josie
has got away, Mr. Maddox?” asked Yune.

            Guy Maddox
nodded his head as he pulled a package of chewing tobacco out of his overall
bib pocket and proceeded to fill his cheek.

“Yes, the train pulled out ‘bout five minutes ago,”
said Constable Maubery.  “I came down to
make sure she got outta here safe and sound,” said Constable Maubery.  “I don’t want anymore girls dying around
here.”

            “It was
lucky we got here early enough,” added Guy Maddox.  “The train came in early, and was about to
leave early.  That idiot Mavor Glick
couldn’t conduct himself to his own funeral, let alone conduct the trains on
time.”

            Yune was
surprised that he breathed such a huge sigh of relief.  He realised just how heavily the murders were
weighing on him, and how glad he was that the girl was gone.  He wouldn’t have to kill her.  He tried not to, but couldn’t help thinking
about how upset Doctor Dewar would be with his change of heart.  Her experiment may well be ruined, and he
would undoubtedly be fired.  She had
worked so hard and so long on the experiment. 
Was he being selfish?

            “Not only
does he screw up the timetable regularly, but he also drops people off at the
wrong stations.  That girl,” said
Constable Maubery, pointing behind Yune, “that girl was supposed to be dropped
in Cavendish, up on the North
Shore.  Poor thing, she’s an orphan from Halifax, going to a new
home, and here she winds up in the heart of murderville.  I phoned up to Angus Ferguson to come down and
pick her up in his truck and drive her all the way up to the Shore.  Told him I’d give him some money and two
bottles of whiskey for his effort.”

            That
girl?  What girl? wondered Yune.  And then he remembered the girl he saw on the
platform before the Constable diverted his attention.  Yune turned around and looked at the
girl.  She had flaming red hair and was
sitting patiently prim and proper, on her little suitcase.  That girl. 
A girl.  Again, Yune surprised
himself with another big sigh of relief. 
Over the last few moments, all he could think about was the immense
disappointment that Doctor Dewar would have at having to call the experiment
off.  It made him realise again just how
important the experiment would be to the world. 
He couldn’t let her down, he decided. 
He must get that girl.

            “Well, let’s
get going, Constable,” said Guy Maddox. 
“We should drop up by Art’s place and see how they’re all doing.  Bring him some comfortin’ booze to make him
forget.”

            “No,” said
the Constable, “I should wait here for Angus and make sure the girl gets away
okay.”

            Yune turned
back to the two men.  “I will wait here,
if you would like to go see Art, Constable,” he said.  “I’m sure Art would be comforted by your
presence.  I will wait here for Angus to
drive the girl to her new family.” 

            The
Constable looked Yune in the eyes, and shaking his hand said,  “Thanks, Yune.  You’re a good man.  That rich lady done you a disservice giving
you your reputation like she did.”

            “You could
be waiting a while for that Angus, though,” laughed Guy.  “He’s probably driven his truck into a ditch,
drunk out of this world, the dumb Irishman.”

            “Come on,
Guy,” said the Constable, “let’s get up to Art’s.”

And with that, the two men were gone.

            Yune turned
back to the girl.  She looked over at him
and smiled.  Yune smiled back.

            “Are you
smart?” Yune asked the girl.

            “Oh, yes, I
should say so,” said the red haired girl.

            Yune walked
over to where she was sitting.  “How do
you do,” he said.  “I’m here to take you
to meet your new sisters.  And if you’re
as smart as you say,  I dare say you’ll
become the brains of the family.”

Yune shook the girl’s hand.  She’s an orphan, thought Yune. Killing an
orphan isn’t so bad.

———————–
Next up…. Chapter 5 – “Amalga-Girl, Hello”

This is comedy group Tripod performing a song at a comedy festival.  It’s pretty funny.

20 years ago, after I graduated from high school, I was seriously considering going to Concordia University in Montreal, to study psychology.  I decided to stay on PEI and attend UPEI, where I did major in psychology for my first two years.  There, I met Dave Moses, who pestered me to be in a play.  I had never really considered my “artistic” before then, but I succumbed (this is a word, by the way, that I have found myself using at least four times in the last three days) to Dave’s requests and thus continued down the path that leads me to this exact moment.
I sometimes wonder what I would have become had I gone to Concordia.  I’m pretty sure I would have never discovered my theatrical talents, and would be leading a very different life than the one I now lead.
Fortunately, for the curious, I have been working on a little side project that has enabled me to Google alternate universes.  I just stumbled upon a blog written by my Concordia University Graduate self.  Yes, I am blogging in that universe too.  Only they, from what I can gather, call it Diaristing.  I never thought I’d be thankful for the term ‘blogger’ but it beats the hell out of ‘diarist’.
Anyway, I thought I’d post the very first entry that I found through Google from that universe.

The title of my alternate universe blog, by the way, is “Tapped Cerebellum”.  (I hate it!)

Aug.15, 2005
Mrs. Fister called me into the lab again today.  Lordy, I do despise her nervous ticking eye!  Yet, I can’t look away from it.  Once again, she had a calamity that “only Robert could solve”.  Seeing that it was totally a frontal lobe situation, it only took me about two minutes to solve.  As a matter of corporate security, I am not at liberty to divulge the nature of her experiment.  But I can say that the monkey smells wonderful.
So, yeah, it was a pretty typical day.  Got home and watched CPAC while we ate.  God, I hope Manning doesn’t win another majority government.  Montreal used to be a fun town, before the Reformatarians took control.  I can’t believe I’m posting this, but I hope the Ben Mulroney Liberals beat the hell out of them.  I’m certainly ready to get some of my freedoms back.
Rundell said something pretty funny at Evening Meal.  I was explaining my deductive reasoning for applying a liberal amount of ranch dressing to the salad, when he bursts out with “I don’t like ranches.  I live in a city, not a ranch!”  LOL My god, we all laughed so!  Can you believe he and Bonnie Jovi are already 12!! 
American Idol was pretty good tonight.  Goodness, they’re all talented singers.  They all deserve to win.  I can’t decide which one I like better.  I know for certain, though, that my wife, Marguerite, is hoping for Bo Bice.
Anyway, must tuck myself into bed.  Work comes early for the workers.

Here’s Chapter 1 and Chapter 2
And this is Chapter 3…

3

‘A Dwindled
List’

             “What do you
mean, ‘too dangerous’?  Over.”

            Doctor
Lucille Dewar was in her laboratory, in the dome above the third floor of her
home.  She was in the middle of
concocting a polish that would quickly and easily remove the tarnish off the
abundant copper accoutrements that adorned the house.  This was one of the many last minute tasks
that had to get done and she didn’t have time for any foolish claims of danger.

            The intercom
buzzed and squawked as Yune’s voice filled the dome.  “It is getting very dangerous.  Constable Maubery has just found all the —“

            Lucille
pressed the talk button before Yune had finished speaking, and a high pitched
whine intermingled with the rest of the noise. 
It took Yune a moment to realise what the noise meant, that the doctor
did not want to hear his news.  He
stopped speaking and released the talk button on the intercom in the first
floor bathroom.  The doctor’s voice
immediately replaced the high tone.  “—
is what I think of your Constable Maubery. 
Now, hurry yourself up here.  And
bring a wire brush.”  The intercom
squawked to silence.  Then it buzzed alive,
said  “Over,” and again squawked to
silence.

 

            After a test
scrubbing of a copper bowl, it was found that the copper tarnish remover
concoction wasn’t working nearly as well as Doctor Dewar has originally
planned, or as Yune Mune had hoped. 
While Lucille quickly got over the partial failure and moved on to the
next task on her To Do list, Yune was left with a bucket of the sludge, a wire
brush, a house exterior covered with greened copper, and only one day to finish
the job.  When he told the doctor that it
would be impossible for him to clean all the copper in one day, and asked if he
could hire some helpers, she snapped at him. 
“Don’t you dare bring outsiders into this house of renaissance.  If it’s impossible to clean the whole of the
copper, as you claim, then could you at least manage to do the dome, and the
shutters on the north face of the house where the lightning rod is
attached?  We can leave the gables green,
I suppose.”

            Yune Mune
bowed and said that could be managed, and that he would get underway
immediately.

            “No,” yelled
Doctor Dewar.  “Before you begin that, we
must make preparations for the final stage of the experiment.  The moon will be at its fullest, two nights
hence, and I am prognosticating inclemency in the meteorological sphere at that
time.  We must be ready.”

            “What else
needs to be done,” asked Yune, looking around the room where the experiment
would take place, “other than rubbing the tarnish and shit off the roof?”

            The doctor
slammed her notation book down onto the hard, wooden floor of the dome.  “Language!” she screamed.  “Watch the language!”

            Yune ran
over and picked up the book.  “I
apologise,” he said, handing her the book. 
“I must be getting caught up in the excitement of the impending
experiment, and have misplaced my manners.”

            “Apology
accepted,” said the doctor.  “And, I,
too, must apologise to you for losing my temper.  There are many factors involved in the
success of this experiment, some which I will have no control over.  I hope you will forgive me if I seem a little
on edge when the culmination of all my years of work and experimentation is so
close at hand, and there are so many things that could go wrong.”

            “Nothing
will go wrong,” said Yune, reassuringly. He bowed deeply to his employer.  “What is it you need of me?”

            Doctor Dewar
looked at Yune.  “I need you to get me
another girl.”

            Yune could
not keep the sigh from coming out.  It
was exactly the order he was fearing most. 
He knew, as the doctor had explained over and over to him, that,
morally, murder in a circumstance such as this was justifiable because of the
greater good which would come as a result. 
However, he wasn’t so sure that others would see their point of view on
the matter.  And now that the crimes had
become officially designated as murder, although for months most people in the
area already believed the girls were murdered but never dared to say so, the
people in the community would be out for blood and justice, and in that order.

Constable Maubery had already questioned him when the
first two girls went missing; not because the Constable thought Yune had
anything to do with them, but because the community demanded it.  Speculation around Afton Road was that if a person was
capable of raping a rich woman, as Yune was once suspected of nearly doing,
then kidnapping teenage girls was also within his realm of capabilities.  Yune Mune, of course, had an airtight alibi
in that he was in Doctor Dewar’s company during the periods of time when the
girls went missing.

            “We really
need another girl?” asked Yune.  “I was
under the impression that the Schprengel girl would have the sufficient
components to enable you to complete your work?”

            “That last
one was a fine specimen, physically.  I
replaced her breasts, which were perfect, for the ones I had planned to use
from girl number two. I also took her thighs, one of her hands, her lips, nose
and her left eye.  Of course, I planned
to, and will, use her heart, as well as some other lesser internal organs which
I won’t bore you with.  I had planned to
use her brain as well, but upon examining it, I discovered that the areas which
control the animal urges such as hunger and sex had been damaged.  Therefore her brain was less than perfect and
as such, unusable. So, I’ll need another girl so I can use her brain.  Try to find someone smart, if you can.”

            “I am afraid
the number of young women from which to choose has dwindled to a jejune few,”
said Yune.  “There is the cross-eyed Shaw
girl, thirteen-“

            “Too young,”
declared the doctor, dismissing her as a choice by a wave of her hand.  “Too immature.”

            “Stacey
Johnson is the right age,” said Yune, “but she is retarded.”

            “Don’t waste
my time.”

            “Emily
Fitzpatrick is available, but she is not pretty,” said Yune.

“Emily Fitzpatrick,” said the doctor, “is far worse
off than merely ‘not pretty’.  She looks
like she was hit by a train.”

The train.  Yune
suddenly remembered Josie Maddox, and quickly glanced at his watch.  “Drat! 
If only I had known your desire for another girl earlier,” said Yune.

            “Why?”

            “Because Josie
Maddox fits your requirements,” stated Yune, ”but her father had her leave
Afton Road for the safety of the mainland. 
She just left today at 5:15
from Mount Stewart.”

            Doctor
Lucille Dewar looked at her pocket watch. 
“It is now only five o’clock.  She will still be there.  You can grab her if you’re quick.”

Yune looked at his own watch and cursed himself for
again forgetting to wind it.  “If we can
get her it will be perfect,” said Yune, “because no one will know she is
missing until after your experiment is complete.  Then, when they see the wonderful being you
will have created, no one will mind another missing, dead teenager.”

            “Go and get
that girl,” said Lucille, as Yune trundled down the steps from the
Observatory.  “And her brain!” she
screamed after him.

——————————-

Next time – Chapter 4 – “5:15 to the Mainland”

Check out Chapter One, here

2

‘Guy’s Art’s Pristle’s Missing’

 The Afton Road General Store was a fairly typical general store in that it had a porch, a squeaky screen door and all manner of supplies.  The owners, Mr. And Mrs. Abercrombie Dunsford, were nice, gentle folk; well liked by the community.  The Afton Road General Store had, like all general stores generally do, all kinds of regulars who hung around all day, playing checkers, shooting the breeze, spitting tobacco, and minding everybody’s business.  The Afton Road regular regulars were Guy Maddox and Art Schprengel.  On this particular day, however, Art Schprengel  was not in the store, and, therefore, Guy had to play checkers by himself, guessing as to what moves Art would have made, if Art had been there.  Guy was up three games to two, and about to win his fourth, when Yune Mune came into the General Store for his weekly pickup of supplies.

            “Well, well, well,” said Guy, noticing the petite foreign man.  “If it isn’t Yooooooon.  How ya doin’, ya yellow fornicator!”  Almost everybody in the area teased Yune mercilessly, either about his ethnicity, or his supposititously nefarious dalliance, or both.  But Yune always seemed not to notice, and simply smiled politely, and went about his business, or, rather, Doctor Lucille Dewar’s business, with the dignity and grace his upbringing gave him.

            “I’m well, thank you, Mr. Maddox,” said Yune, bowing deeply.  “Where, may I ask, is your check mate, Mr. Schprengel?  It is strange to see such Siamese twins as you and he separated.”

            “No, you mayn’t ask!” snorted Guy, returning his focus to the game of checkers.  “And who you calling Siamese?  You’re the dumb foreigner, remember?”  Guy hopped his red checker over two of the blacks, and swiped them off the board, laughing at Art’s careless move.

            Yune bowed again.  “Very good day to you, sir.”   He then turned his attention to Mrs. Abercrombie Dunsford, who was standing behind the counter.  “Good morning, Sarah,” he said, smiling broadly.  “Is the order ready?”  Yune was one of the few men who called her by her first name, and she liked him for that.  Even Abe called her ‘the missus’ or some other such objectifying phrase with ‘the’ in front of it.  But Yune was nice to her, and he had class and odd good looks.  And she was willing to overlook his seedy reputation, even if it sometimes caused her to imagine him doing and saying unseemly things to her in the stock room when Abercrombie was away fishing or drinking with the men.

            “Hello, Yune.  It’s right here.  I packed everything myself. I’m afraid, however,” said Sarah, as she lifted two boxes of groceries and sundries onto the counter, “that I wasn’t able to find that item on your list.  Ginsing, or however you pronounce it.  But, my cousin Myrtle is coming down from Toronto in two days and I phoned her and she’s gonna look for some and bring it. I’ll drop it up to you if she gets some.  Ginsing? It’s a root, is it?”

            “Yes.  Gin Seng. For medicinal purposes.  But, please, do not deliver.  That is not necessary.”

            “Gin Sing?  I bet it’s a medicine,”  yelled Guy.  “My father took a medicine called whiskey-shine every night and beat the living tar out of all of us.  I bet you had a stomach full of that medicine the night you grabbed that lawyer’s wife and went for an egg roll in the hay!”  Guy Maddox laughed loudly at his joke, then went back to playing checkers.

 “Don’t mind Guy, there,” said Sarah.  “When his Art’s not around, he feels it’s his duty to be twice as cranky and mean to people coming in.”

            “Where is his Art?” asked Yune.

            “Didn’t you hear?” whispered Sarah, putting the final box marked Copper Acropolis on the counter and then leaning over it, in spite of the fact that such an uncompromising position might put her in jeopardy, by exposing the upper parts of her bosom, considering who she was talking to.  She leaned over a little further and whispered. “Art’s daughter, Pristle, didn’t come home since Wednesday.”

            “The little tramp’s probably just shacked up somewhere with that horny teacher,” yelled Guy.

Sarah ignored Guy’s comment and continued the whispering.  “Three days.  Art’s over at his house, hoping to hear some news.  Constable Mauberly says he might be on to something.”

            “No, I did not hear such horrific news,” said Yune.  “That is such a shame.  She was not that old a girl.”

            Sarah shook her head.  “Sixteen, and there’s no need to be talking in past tense.  She’s not been found dead.  Not yet. None of them have.”  Mrs. Dunsford shook her head.  “Imagine, now four teenage girls from this area have gone missing, all in the last year.  I dare say all our girls have disappeared before our eyes”.

            “Well, I guarantee those bastards’ll never get my Josie,” snarled Guy.  “She’s practically the only girl that age left around the Afton Road, and I’m making sure she stays that way.  And if they ever do lay their mitts on  her, I’ll catch them and I’ll rip their flippin’ eyes out and then stuff them in their chests so they can see from the inside my knife cuttin’ out their hearts.”

            “That’s right,” said Mrs. Abercrombie Dunsford, ignoring Guy’s graphic images, “you’re sending your Josie off to the mainland until this horror stops, aren’t you, Guy?  That’s a smart move, considering.”

            “Damn straight it’s smart.  I can’t be too safe when it comes to Josie, my little sweetie pie.  All the young men in the area’ll be after her once this is all through and the kidnappers get caught.  She’ll be able to have the pick of the litterbugs.  But until then she’s going to her Aunt Rachel’s.  She’s leaving tonight on the 5:15 train.”

            Mrs. Dunsford sighed and shook her head.  “Well, it’s just awful that such drastic measures like that need to be done.  I just hope they catch whoever’s doing this so we can all get back to our normal lives.”

            Yune signed the receipt for the goods.  “Do not worry, Sarah. I am sure those girls will come back in better shape than when they left.  The police will figure it out and everything will be pieced together.  They are not dummies.”

            Just then, young Cecil McNeill burst in through the squeaky screen door of the general store.

            “Heaven’s alive, Cecil,” screamed Mrs. Dunsford, “what’s all the hubbub and stir for you to be running in here like that?”

            “That cheap father of his finally gave him a nickel’s allowance and he’s come here to spend it on licorice,” said Guy Maddox, laughing.

            “They just found them,” panted Cecil, between breaths.

            “Found who?” asked Guy, looking up from the checker board.

            “All of them,” replied Cecil.  “The girls.  All of them.”

            “My God!” screamed Mrs. Dunsford.  “Where?”

            Cecil bent over and put his hands on his knees, trying to get enough air.

            “Where?” asked Guy, now standing up behind the checker board.

            “Way down the road—by a shack, in Fullerton’s Marsh,” said Cecil.  “Can I have a Coca Cola, Mrs. Dunsford?  I ran all the way from Art Schprengel’s house.  They left clues all along the road that led Constable Mauberly right to the marsh.”

            “By Fullerton’s Marsh?” asked Guy.  “What were they doing down there, by Fullerton’s Marsh?”

            “No,” said Cecil, heading to the ice machine, “in Fullerton’s Marsh.  They were found next to an old abandoned smelt shack in the marsh. They’re dead.”

            “The police found all of them?” asked Yune Mune.

Young Cecil McNeill gulped up some more air and then breathed it out.  “Pieces of all of them,” he said.  “Constable Maubery said Pristle Schprengel’s heart’s been ripped clear out of her chest!  And there ain’t no sign of it, neither.”

“Sweet Jesus,” said Guy, sitting back down in his chair.  Then all at once, he jumped up, knocking over the checker board.  “Where’s my Josie?” he cried, and ran out the door.

Mrs. Dunsford crossed herself and closed her eyes.  “Those poor girls.  They’ll live on in our memories.”

            Yune Mune nodded his silent agreement.

—————–

Up next – Chapter Three!

Technorati Tags: CopperAcropolis

I didn’t know Joe Sherman well, but well enough to stop and talk to him occasionally when we’d meet on the street or at a bookstore.  When we stopped, we’d usually talk about movies or the local theatre scene.  I often was a bit intimidated talking to Joe, as it seemed obvious that his thinking was on a different plain than mine.  As his Buzz articles no doubt
indicate, Joe Sherman loved words and enjoyed using them in his
writing, poetry and everyday conversations.   As such, it was always entertaining to talk with him.
 Joe, as have been so many others over time, was kind enough to offer the occasional idea for a sketch for whatever group I was in at the time.  The only one I really remember, and only because he offered it to me a couple of times, was a parody musical of Guys and Dolls.  He called it Buoys and Gulls.

Joe, over the last while, has been battling cancer.  Today, he succumbed.
My condolences go out to everyone who is affected by his passing.

He’s the “out there” player, Ricky Williams.  He’s the guy on the team who dances to the beat of a different drummer.  He’s on a different plane, a different course.  His attitude is rather off-the-wall.   I just don’t know if it’s sincere, or can be trusted.
Two years ago, Ricky Williams unceremoniously quit playing for the Miami Dolphins, mere weeks before the regular season was about to begin.  His move caused a season of chaos for the Dolphins, but, ultimately, caused the team to get a coach who apparently is doing great things in making the team better.  He quit, he said at the time, because he was tired of playing football, and wanted to do other things.  So, he was giving up his salary and exploring the world.  Okay, I was upset that his quitting ruined the Dolphins’ chance that year season (not they really had a chance anyway), but I was rather impressed with Ricky for making that bold decision.  Good for him, I thought, for doing what he thought he wanted.  That year, Ricky’s tour of the world was a bit surreal, from an extended camping trip in the Australian outback, to some rather flaky yoga university in upstate California, the media was all over his somewhat “hippie” lifestyle.
Somewhere in there, the news came out that his retirement may not have been quite so altruistic as originally thought.  Turns out he’d likely have been suspended for marijuana use, had he played that year.  That was likely a big reason in why he didn’t play.
Okay, so he probably lied about why he quit.  I can live with that.  He still seemed like a guy who was sincerely trying to find his place in the world.
When the Dolphins came calling him about the little matter of 6 million or so dollars that he owed them because of renigging on his contract, Ricky decided that, rather than do the bankruptcy thing, he’d play football again.  So, through a strange series of circumstances, Ricky Williams came back this year to play football for the Miami Dolphins.  How would the fans react to him?  How would the players react, those whom he bailed on a year earlier?
By all accounts, Ricky was welcomed back by all.  His play throughout the season was impressive enough, bordering on super by the end of the season.  His work-ethic, say his team-mates and coaches, has been most impressive.
And the media, well the media likes getting those off-the-wall Ricky quotes. 
He’s great for sound-bytes, because his personal philosophy just doesn’t seem to jibe with the mentality of a modern-day sports figure.  His latest bit of publicity was typical Ricky:  Because he quit on the Dolphins, he had to play this year for the league minimum salary (about $500.000).  He was recently asked if he’d be willing to play next year for the league minimum again.  He said he didn’t see a problem with it.  Hey, half a million dollars is a lot of money, and who couldn’t live comfortably on that kind of dough?  (that’s a paraphrase.  Of course, come time for his agent to try to renegotiate his contract, I’m sure Ricky will be told to sing a different tune).  Whether it’s sincere or not, it’s nice to hear a professional athlete talk like that.

Personally, I was glad to have Ricky Williams back and hope he’s a Dolphin next year too.  I just can’t fully commit to him like I did in the past, because I’ll always expect tomorrow’s headline to read:  “Williams Quits Football Again”.

Technorati Tags: MiamiDolphins, football, RickyWilliams

Technorati Tags: MiamiDolphins, football, RickyWilliams

Well, with only one week remaining in the regular season, and then the playoff games left, The Annekenstein Monster’s small but mighty playoff pool is really coming down to the wire.

Here are the standings as of this week:

reverseflash:  130-110 (54.2%)  points:  150   Last Week: 11-5
annekenstein: 130-110 (54.2%)  points:  150  Last Week: 10-6
Jim Simmonds: 127-113 (52.9%)  points:  141  Last Week:  10-6
Graham the Conqerer: 92-102 (47.4%)  points: 82  Last Week: 10-6

Over the course of the season, it had been a two-way battle for first place, between Jim Simmonds and myself, but JS has slipped the past couple of weeks and has some catching up to do.  Reverseflash, early in the season, was down and out but has been coming on strong and is a strong threat to win it all.  I’ve been pretty steady throughout the whole season, and if I don’t win, at least I’ll have that to comfort me.  Graham the Conquerer was right up there at the top the first half of the season, but at one point he forgot (I assume) to enter picks for a week and that pretty much ended his chance.  Like a trooper, though, he’s been playing out the season.
For a brief period, we had a fifth member, Nils, but I believe he only picked one week, or two, then wasn’t heard from again.  After a number of weeks of not picking, I removed him from the game.  His stats were bringing the group’s average down.  As a group, we are at 52.4% for the season.

Isn’t it exciting, wondering who will win this totally meaningless pool?