By Brett Matthew West
NOTE: The necessity for this book has arisen due to a comment made by the CEC.
And I quote their exact words, "Cody is much too well known on FanStory to be entered into any contests."
Amazing the CEC feels the need to be so despondent over a simple Cody story.
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Disheartened, Cody moaned, "This is what you're taking me to school in?" He felt transported a century into the past in the Astatula Amish community's vehicle.
Sheriff Daniels grinned wide, "I knew this would be a unique means to travel. Merry Christmas!"
Cody's shoulders drooped. "It is. No other boy I know is taken to school in a snow sleigh?"
| Author Notes | This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
Tempted by the hammer laid next to the porker, one by one Cody extracted the coins out of his piggy bank. Smashing the pig's head would have been tempting, if the sheriff wasn't watching his every movement.
The curious youngster seperated the coins into piles, one each for quarters, dimes, nickels, and those pesky copper pennies he detested. Cody told himself, "They all add up." He decided he would keep them.
Cody noticed the quarters and dimes, the larger denominations, contained ridges. He laughed and stated, "So do Ruffles potato chips!" He'd heard that on their television commercials.
He examined a nickel and a cent piece and commented, "That's peculiar."
"What?" Sheriff Daniels wanted to know.
"These two don't have ridges," Cody replied.
"Open your book on stamping coins and tell me why that is, Bright Eyes," the sheriff said.
Cody flipped through the pages of the guide on coin collecting until he discovered the answer. He glanced at the sheriff and read out loud, "Back in the days when coins were stamped in different weights to reflect the true value of each coin, and to keep people from shaving their edges or melting them into new coins, minters placed ridges on coins made out of precious metals so it would be easy to detect if their edges had been shaved off. That is why coins still have edges today. Even the CEC can't ban that like they did me."
"You learned something new, didn't cha?" Sheriff Daniels asked. "Now, put your coins back in your piggy bank. And, a, don't smash it to smithereens with that claw hammer doing so."
Cody picked up the coins and dropped them through the slot in the pink pig's back. In silence, he counted their total value to himself...eleven dollars and eighty-three cents. Seventeen cents short of his age. He wondered if the sheriff had a chore he could do to make up the difference.
| Author Notes |
This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories.
Cody's comment about the CEC is made in reference to the CEC stating, "Cody is too well known on FanStory to be entered into any contests." Cody Moments allows those members of FanStory who wish to read about Cody the opportunity to do so without the CEC banning him or them. |
By Brett Matthew West
Cast Of Characters For New Readers:
Cody Schroder - mix of curiosity, mischief-maker, and a tad of an alter boy. Adopted son of Sheriff Brock Daniels and Beth Sorenson. Born in Palo Pinto, now lives in the small West Texas town of Astatula. For the first ten years of his life was verbably, physically, and sexually abused by his biological sperm donor (as Cody refers to him), Earl Anthony Schroder, who perished in a head-on car crash into a guardrail at 93 mph after a drunk night of bowling.
Sheriff Brock Daniels - long-time Sheriff of Astatula. Attempting to turn Cody's life around.
Beth Sorenson - married to Sheriff Daniels. Mayor of Astatula. Brought Cody to Astatula after Earl Anthony Schroder died.
Matt Cochran - Cody's best friend.
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Cody flipped through the printed pages of the Astatula Gazette. Sitting on the table in front of him, his bowl of uneaten oatmeal grew colder by the minute. He stopped when he came upon an article that grabbed his attention. The headline of which stated "Man Shoots Ex Eight Times Over Unanswered Texts."
Seated at the opposite end of the oblong wooden breakfast nook, Sheriff Daniels asked, "What's caught your fancy?"
"This dude you busted last week. You know, the one who bumped off his girlfriend cause she didn't answer his messages," Cody began.
Sheriff Daniels halted him, "Eugene Watson. He told me he woke up angry and drove to her house because he knew Twila Larsen had to be at Myrtle's Muffins for work at 7am that morning."
Vigilant, Cody was attentive as his eyes danced from the newspaper in his hands to the sheriff. He loved hearing insider details of the peace officer's cases although he wanted nothing to do with law enforcement when he grew up. Veterinarian college was his heart's intent.
Sheriff Daniels continued, "Watson claimed he pulled into her driveway and waited for her to walk out the front door, where they had words, before she turned and ran back toward her house. His story is he pulled out a .45 and shot her in the back eight times."
"O-V-E-R-K-I-L-L!" Cody exclaimed.
Sheriff Daniels looked at him and explained, "When I arrived on the scene she was face down in her own blood and could not be revived by any life-saving measures. After Watson murdered her, he dumped the clothes he'd worn in a dumpster behind his shanty. He threw the pistol magazine out on the side of Highway 62 at the 207 junction, and his gun in a drain over in your old neck of the woods."
Annoyed by the fact, Cody asked, "Palo Pinto?" The mere mention of that town seemed to return horrible memories to the boy.
"Watson told me the only regret he had was he couldn't slaughter her again. Now, he's facing capitol premeditated murder," the sheriff continued.
"The death penalty?" Cody inquired.
"Don't you think he deserves to die for what he did to Twila Larsen?" Sheriff Daniels asked his young charge.
Cody did not hesitate with his response, "Yes! He's just a jerk!"
Sheriff Daniels pointed to the boy's oatmeal. "Now, eat your breakfast. You and Matt have football practice in thirty minutes and it wouldn't look so good for the Astatula Mustangs' star receiver to be too weak from not eating to play. On top of that, who would Matt throw the ball to? Eat!"
| Author Notes | This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
Main Character - Cody Schroder. 12 years old. Part curiosity. Part mischief-maker. A dash of altar boy thrown in for good measure. Adopted son of the long-time sheriff of Astatula.
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As he twirled the piece of chalk between the fingers of his right hand, Gordon Heigal faced his class of boisterious students. On the board behind him he'd written the first ten numbers in descended order from ten to nine, then eight, all the way down to zero.
Mr. Heigal said, "I will subtract one question from your quiz on Friday for each correct answer you geniuses give me in our discussion today. Did you know every year there are about thirty million Christmas trees sold in stores around the country?"
Someone called out, "According to who?"
Mr. Heigal responded, "The National Christmas Tree Association. Who can tell us about this organization? This information was in the material I had you read."
One of the over-achievers of the class, redheaded Julia Addison in the front row responded, "Almost seventy-five percent of all Christmas trees grown in the US are farm-raised by growers associated with them."
"Ah, but the question becomes what happens to Christmas trees when Christmas is over?" Mr. Heigal asked.
Calvin Boykins blurted out, "They go to the Christmas tree North Pole." His comment brought snickers from several students around the room.
Mr. Heigal waited for the class to settle down. "As you know, not every Christmas tree is sold. Some never leave the farm they are produced on, and others remain in the stores' lots after Christmas is over. Most of these trees are turned into mulch and wood chips for city parks like ours. Right here in Astatula, there are a couple groups that collect these trees and turn them into compost."
Usually quiet, Mariah Morley stated, "My dad told me lots of cities do that. He said sometimes they even sell the compost to buyers."
Mr. Heigal asked, "Okay, class. Who can name the six largest Christmas tree growing states?"
"North Carolina."
"Michigan."
"Pennsylvania."
"Oregon."
"You forgot Wisconsin and Washington, doofuses!" Tommy Smythe smarted off from the middle of the room.
Immediately, Mr. Heigal corrected his inappropriate behavior, "Be nice, Tommy. It is Christmas and Santa won't come see you if you're mean."
He turned around and erased some numbers off the board, then faced the class and said, "We're entering the home stretch now. Astatula even offers Christmas tree curbside pick-up and drop-off sites. And, these are free services anyone in town can use."
There was one number still on the board when Mr. Heigal turned to Cody. Lost in his own world, the blond munchkin paid no attention to the conversation around him and continued to doodle in his notebook. The only Christmas tree he'd ever had was the one Sheriff Daniels and Beth decorated in the den of their home three days ago. Cody remembered how his eyes lit up as bright as the lights on the tree were. He never saw a Christmas tree in Palo Pinto, or anything else connected to Christmas...certainly not with Earl Anthony Schroder buzzing around!
Mr. Heigal informed the class, "The last question I have will be asked of Cody. No one help him out."
Cody's ears perked up when he heard his name mentioned. Not wanting even a one question quiz, the other students glared at him in eager anticipation.
One of them encouraged, "C'mon, Cody. We're all counting on you for the right answer!"
The teacher's question came, "Cody, what is another way a Christmas tree could be discarded that is beneficial to everyone?"
Cody closed his notebook. He clicked his pen and stuffed the implement into the pocket of his shirt. Looking at Mr. Heigal, he answered matter-of-factly, "I dunno. Drop it in the middle of Sullivan Lake. It'd probably make a good habitat for the bluegills there."
"You are right, Cody. It would," Mr. Heigal agreed.
The bell rang and Cody bolted out the classroom door. He couldn't wait for Christmas Break.
| Author Notes | This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
Chewing on blades of grass, two barefooted boys laid on their backs on the hiillside overlooking Sullivan Lake. Their legs crossed at the knees, and the fingers on their hands interlocked behind their heads, they contemplated the cosmos.
Cody was the first to speak, "You hear about that new planet they just discovered?"
Matt rolled over on his elbows and replied, "C'mon, you know I don't fall for all that Woke stuff. I don't even believe anyone's ever walked on the moon."
"Since we read that Yahoo article where Buzz Aldrin claimed all that moon landing stuff was staged it makes you wonder if any of that stuff is real," Cody admitted.
"He should know. He was supposed to be the second man to walk on the moon behind that Armistead dude," Matt agreed.
"You mean Neil Armstrong," Cody corrected him.
"I read in some book Buzz Aldren got all depressed and drank lots of alcohol after his alleged moon walking mission. What does that tell you walking on the moon does to your mind?" Matt asked.
Cody thought a moment, then said, "You know they got this real powerful telescope."
Matt cut him off, "That James Webb Space thing."
"Anyway, it was supposed to have discovered an exoplanet not far from our solar system that's like the Earth," Cody stated.
"Is it an X or an O planet?" Matt teased.
"Exoplanet" Cody replied, "that means it orbits its own star, kind of like the Earth circles the sun. Except this one completes its orbit in two days, and, it is almost the same size as the Earth."
"Any little green spaceman been found there?" a cynical Matt asked.
Slightly annoyed, Cody rolled his eyes. "No. It's a lot hotter than the Earth, and they don't know what kind of atmosphere it has yet. They think it might be carbon dioxide."
"So, nothing could live there if it wanted to. Why waste money looking for exoplanets like that? At least, Mister Space Scout, tell me that," Matt replied.
"Don't know," Cody conceded.
"I better get home and get my chores done or my dad is going to send me to the nearest exoplanet he can find. All these thrown away efforts on useless exoplanet hunting!" Matt scoffed mounting his two-wheeler.
Cody gazed deep into outer space...and pondered.
| Author Notes |
This Is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories.
The exoplanet the James Webb Space Telescope recently discovered is called LHS 475 b. It is supposed to be 41 Light Years from the Earth. Reading about the discovery triggered this Cody Moment. |
By Brett Matthew West
Sheriff Daniels and Cody popped tops on another round of ice cold sodas and continued their conversation.
"I would clue you in that current statistics show ninety-eight percent of mass shooters are males, and their average age is thirty years old."
"So, these last two old fogey shooters in California are outliers?"
"Think about this, Cody. One was 72. The other 67. Between them they slaughtered 18 innocent victims."
"I thought you told me before workplace violence like this was rare?"
"It is. Most mass shootings are carried out by perps 15 to 25 years old who shoot up their schools. And, another high cluster are mid-40 year old perps who kill four or more people in public locations that are not gang related, connected to drugs, or robberies gone bad."
"Just because someone gets canned at work doesn't give them the right to kill their co-workers. Does it?"
"Of course not. And, younger shooters are typically hate-driven or fame seekers, in hopes their sprees go viral. Which, by the way, is another contributing factor in why these shootings occur."
"So, they spend lots of hours on social media platforms studying other mass shooters and try to copycat them?"
"Most often. That is one of the reasons I limit what I allow you to view on television and social media. It is also another reason you are only allowed to stay on them so long. Restaurants, retailers, and now dance clubs seem to be the current popular attractions for these mass shootings to occur."
"What is the purpose of becoming a mass shooter? All you're going to end up is dead."
"Here is one of the biggest lies these shooters are known to commonly tell themselves to try to justify their actions. 'I'm owed whatever in this world, fill in your own blank, and I'm not getting it. Therefore, now I'm pissed off and it must be everybody else's fault. So, in retaliation, I'm going to randomly murder a bunch of people.' That's what most of them claim, anyway."
"Why?"
"Why indeed?"
| Author Notes | This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
The words of Jason Morganson, the producer teaching Cody to collect the sweet and sticky substance, rang in the youngster's ears.
The instructor told the avid, eager, learner, "Bees are so humble. They are also a necessary cornerstone of local ecosystems and pollinate the living crapola out of crops. All this helps keep the food web we are on top of, woven."
Cody quickly picked up how much bees depended on plants to not only reproduce, and create more bees, but as the food they needed for their honey-making expeditions.
One day while tending the hives, Mr. Morganson explained, "When bees do not have anything to eat we all feel their hurt."
"Is that why the rains we sometimes get in Astatula are so bad for them?" Cody asked.
Mr. Morganson studied the boy and said, "When there are no flower blossoms the bees do not eat."
Six months earlier, Cody had begun his beekeeping hobby on Mr. Morganson's ten acre farm. He learned how bees fertilized the wild pears, red mulberries, chickasaw plums, snap peas, tomatillo used to make home-made salsa, and pumpkins grown on the land.
Cody asked Mr. Morganson, "How long have you kept bees!"
The old man scratched the remnant of hair that remained on top of his otherwise bald head. In deep contemplation he replied, "Oh, I reckon most my life."
Cody knew his beekeeping mentor stored jars of his honey in the cellar beneath his house. He offered them to his friends in the small West Texas hamlet. The rest he sold at local farmers' markets.
"Lots of people wanted my raw honey. Why, I recall the first time I set up shop in my old barn. I sold out of everything I'd jarred in two hours," the proud keeper boasted.
Always a budding enterpriser, Cody liked the sound of Mr. Morganson's words. Dollar signs danced in his head. He told Mr. Morganson, "I could learn to do that."
"Well, since you know nothing about the intricate workings, or how to maintain bee colonies, I would be willing to educate you concerning what I do know about keeping bees," Mr. Morganson smiled back at him.
Cody soon discovered a huge part of operating an apiary came from the right type of flowers for the bees to make the proper kind of honey he desired. He promised himself one day the little entrepreneur would own an octagonal gazebo he would attach to a garden wall to house his bees.
Mr. Morganson explained, "Each flower provides a different flavor for the bees, and some are harder to find than others. To be the best beekeeper you can be, you have to become a honey flow chaser. That means learning where flowers bloom at any certain time."
Cody became more proficient at producing a variety of honey native to the part of Texas where he lived including alfalfa, whitebrush, and his most favorite of all flavors, wildflower. That one was the easiest for Cody to make because many varieties of wildflowers could be used to feed his bees. Probably because they remained abundant, before long, he ventured into bluebonnet honey as well.
One bright afternoon, Mr. Morganson pulled a yellow daffodil, with under-developed petals, and stated, "Cody, you need to remember a main point in your beekeeping is poor flowers like this one will always produce poor honey no matter what plants you feed your bees." He paused a moment and stated, "Sometimes you get better results than you do on other occasions."
His never-give-up attitude apparent, Cody responded, "You just gotta keep on trucking."
Mr. Morganson guffawed out loud and snorted through his nostrils. He promised Cody, "I am going to do all I can to help you succeed. I appreciate your ambitiousness. Just remember what I tell you, el machacho, come what may you have to do all you can to sustain your bees."
Knowing he would keep trying new tactics to track down what methods worked best for his industrious forays, Cody responded, " The sheriff has even started letting me keep a couple hives on our property, just not too close to the doors. He doesn't want any bees to get in the house."
Beekeeping fit in well with the chickens Cody raised. They also provided the lad another outlet to burn off some of his excess energy. Cody removed a frame from a hive to check on the colony of bees therein.
With gloves to protect his hands, and adorned in full-bodied overalls, Cody was glad he always wore his wide-brimmed beekeeper's hat and veil when he handled his bees, even if its mesh did drape down over his shoulders.
| Author Notes | This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
***Have decided to centrally locate all my Cody Schroder stories to another online location. That site will also be the home of my future Cody stories. Plan to start with this one. Please disregard the fact this story was originally written as a contest entry. That contest is long gone. What I am looking for, more or less, are any glaring errors that remain in this story before I post the tale to the new site.***
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"Are you going to put your video game down long enough for me to tell you this story?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. Now, come sit down on the couch and I'll begin. Bradley Carrigan was one of the toughest cases of my career for me to crack. It all began on the 12th of July in 2013. "Seventeen year old disappears without a trace!" That's what the headline on the front page of the Astatula Gazette screamed."
"Go, ahead, Sheriff. I'm listening."
"I knew the Carrigans lived over on Hathaway, down on the south side of town, even before Brad was born. A lot of conundrum surrounded this shocking case."
"Clue me in."
"It was another balmy morning when I received the call in my office. Brad had seemingly evaporated with no warning. I see you're getting into what I'm telling you. You just sat up straight. I appreciate that."
"Your stories are always good."
"As usual, a likely suspect entered the scene. You better buckle your seatbelt because this is going to be a crazy tale. Then again, almost every tragedy has a normal beginning."
"I'm all ears."
"The Carrigans' marriage dissolved and Brad chose to live with his mother, Julia Carrington-Smith. I was informed Brad suffered from a health issue. Despite this problem, he enjoyed being active. And, like you, Brad loved animals, particularly farm ones. Brad was also a cashier at the livestock pavilion when he departed. Shortly before then, he'd knocked on Marvin Bergman's door. Now, there was a real scoundrel."
"What was his problem?"
"Allegedly, Bergman provided Brad some kind of drug that influenced his psyche. That's one of the reasons I'm always coaching you not to take anything from anybody that you don't know what it is."
"You don't have to worry about that. So, what did you do?"
"My investigation of this event revealed instead of the good time Brad went searching for, the drug caused him to prance around Bergman's house completely undressed, and he participated in certain activities he otherwise never would have, and you certainly want no part of. When Brad sobered up, he was justifiably distressed."
"I would have slugged Bergman right in the mouth if he'd done that to me!"
"Beth and I would expect no less from you, you little bantam rooster. But, the following day, Brad felt profuse humiliation for his rendezvous with Bergman and turned to his father for advice."
"What did Brad's dad do?"
"His father was incensed at Bergman taking advantage of Brad, as I would be if someone did something like that to you. He wanted to go to Bergman's house and keelhaul him. He figured that would educate Bergman about respect and not to drug or use Brad. Can't say I blamed him. But, Russell Carrigan did not follow through with his threats. If he had, perhaps there'd been a suspect in Brad's vanishing act."
"Too bad he didn't follow through."
"Russell Carrigan ended up in Astatula General Hospital for an emergency gallbladder surgery. While he was admitted there, I found out Brad was not alone. There were two workers replacing the air conditioning unit at the Carrigans' house. Brad's friend Tony Newsome was also on the scene helping Brad do chores. Tony's sworn deposition stated he noticed one of the workers looked through the kitchen drawers. When Tony asked him what he was doing, the repairman remained silent and exited the house. From outside, Brad called to let Tony know he was running an errand."
"That's when Brad disappeared. Right?"
"Brad and his father were tight."
"Not as close as us."
"I would have to agree with you there, Cody. But, Brad had visited his father each day while he was in the hospital. Julia Smith came to see her estranged husband. She was surprised Brad had not come to the hospital the night before to see his father and decided to check their house for his benefit. When she arrived, the front door stood ajar, but Brad was nowhere in sight. His mother knew Brad was not the kind to wander away and not tell someone his destination. In this case, no one could attest to Brad's whereabouts. And, none of Brad's personal belongings were absent from his room."
"What did she do?"
"On July 21st, Julia Smith filed a missing person's report with my office. Immediately, I suspected foul play. First, I tracked Bergman down. When my questions for him reached an impasse, I kicked my efforts up a couple notches and formed a search party. Then, I interviewed everyone who might have had any involvement in Brad's removal. No one admitted a thing."
"How did the search go?"
"The search lasted the better part of two months. Tony confessed to me he and Brad had experimented with meth and marijuana."
"Not me. Never!"
"I catch you doing drugs it's me you'll have to worry about, not Earl Anthony Schroder! Ever again. That I promise!"
"Can we talk about anything but that maggot...PLEASE?"
"I suspected Brad's retreat was drug-related. But, then a new clue came along, as did a suspect, Blake Robertson. Definitely not a good role model. Robertson's behavior was violent, and he'd been charged with first degree felonious assault with a deadly weapon. While Robertson remained in custody, I searched his property for evidence. What I discovered on his home computer repulsed me although I've handled many grotesque incidents."
"What did you find?"
"I knew Robertson was devious to the core. His computer contained tons of illicit posts about rapes, tortures and murders of young men. One of the "victims" bore a striking resemblence to Brad Carrigan. That post really put Robertson in a quandary with my investigation. Robertson claimed the posts were all fabricated and stated he'd never met Brad Carrigan."
"Sure he hadn't."
"When I searched Robertson's two-door coupe, I found a necklace with a gold bear on it that matched the one Brad was known to regularly wear. But, similar necklaces aren't hard evidence. Though Robertson received thirty years in maximum security prison inside Huntsville for his assault charges, he never talked about Brad. Julia Smith's motherly instincts told her Robertson was probably not involved in Brad's demise."
"That was a good place for Robertson. Then, what happened?"
"I refused to give up on Brad's case. Six years later Brad was found living under an assumed name over near Fort Worth. Apparently, he couldn't handle his parents' break-up and split town. Unfortunately, both of his parents died unexpectedly before they could be reunited with their long lost son. He has reopened the family business in their honor."
"You mean Playmates Amusement Park?"
"One of your favorite hangouts. In fact, that's where Matt's birthday party is going to be Saturday. And, you're going to celebrate with your BFF. Those broad smiles on your face are what I like to see."
"Maybe if I ask him to, Rusty, I mean Brad, will want to help me with my feral chickens rescue."
"You're talking about the Free-Roaming Chickens Society of Astatula?"
"Yep. There's lots to do."
"Maybe you should ask him?"
"Thanks for the suggestion, Sheriff. I will."
"Just another day of living in Astatula."
| Author Notes |
This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories.
Main Characters For My Cody Schroder Books And Stories: -Cody Schroder - 12 year old main protaganist trying to rebuild his life under the watchful care of Sheriff Brock Daniels -Brock Daniels - long time sheriff of the small West Texas town of Astatula and Cody's adopted dad -Beth Sorenson - Sheriff Daniels' fiance. Brought Cody to Astatula from Palo Pinto -Earl Anthony Schroder - Cody's "biological sperm donor," as he refers to him. For the first 10 years of Cody's life put him through hellacious physical, mental, psychological, and sexual abuse. Perished in a head-on vehicle crash into a guardrail while drunk after a night of bowling |
By Brett Matthew West
(A little something for Cody's readers.)
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In a hurried manner as if to attract attention, the delightful sprite promenaded forward with his left foot. Cody stripped his schoolbag off his shoulders. The Spiderman backpack landed on the top of the counter with a loud and deep KER-THUNK!
Cody recalled an unfortunate event from earlier that day. He rubbed the knot in the middle of his forehead with the flattened palm of his hand and thought to himself, 'Good thing my bag wasn't my head when I fell asleep in Geometry class. Serves me right though. Being tired is what I get for having my patented nightmares about Palo Pinto and not sleeping like I should.'
He knew the sheriff's eagle-eyed vision would zero in on the contusion and an explanation would be required. A hair-brained response would wait. One quick step with his right foot and Cody yanked open the refrigerator door. Somehow, its strong hinges withstood the onslaught.
Inside the icebox, Cody discovered homemade chocolate chip cookies. Quiet as a whisper on the breeze, their subdued undertone cooed, "Co - dy!"
The boy grabbed the treats, and a bottle of milk he'd earlier placed on the chiller's shelf, after his half-eaten breakfast, before he dashed off to school. He allowed the refrigerator door to close shut on its own.
From his vantage point at the kitchen table, Sheriff Daniels observed his ward's movements. Cody's antics never ceased to amaze the lawman. He said, "Well, if the life of the party didn't just waltz right into the room I don't know what did."
Cody sat at the table and began, "Sheriff, I know you've told me how much you despise scammers. But, we had an assembly today and the speaker talked about suicide caused by people having their identity stolen. She told us about 16 percent of victims of such crimes thought about offing themselves because they thought it was easier than recovering from the crime. And, she said the number is an all-time high record for her organization."
"Oh, yes. In my book, identity thieves are right up the same alley with scammers. And, it is easy to become a statistic of that crime when someone's personal information can be breached by something as simple as being scammed. You do know what personal information is, right?"
"Yeah, it's like a bank account number, or maybe even, and Beth told me this one, your social security number."
"I know victims of identity theft who have expressed to me, while I investigated the crime, their feelings of guilt and shame. Some have gone as far as to lose their trust in others."
"What can be done for ID theft victims?"
"One good way may be change the way these people are treated so they don't feel ignored by organizations out there who are supposed to help them after they have fallen victim to this crime."
"How do ID thieves get this personal information?"
"Well, computer braniac. Sometimes by phishing, email compromise, or having their social media accounts taken over. Throw in sophisticated voice mail, and direct contact assaults, and viola. Anymore, artificial intelligence is becoming so advanced, ID thieves could use it to make it much more difficult to spot phishing."
"You would think people knew better than get themself involved in scams and ID thievery."
"You would," Sheriff Daniels agreed. He looked at his young charge and asked, "Now, is your bedroom neat and tidy like I asked you to make sure the room was three days ago last Saturday morning?"
Cookie crumbs circled Cody's mouth. They made his lips resemble a severe case of carbuncles. Using the back of his hand as a napkin, Cody wiped them off and replied with a shake of his head, "No."
The sheriff stroked the boy's nose with his finger and said, "Last warning. If those standards are not met in one hour's time, you will have more than plenty of sore sit down spots. Beth is not your personal maid, nor is it her responsibility to pick up after you. You have a trail of dirty clothes scattered from one side of the floor in your room to the other. Your bathroom sink needs to be scrubbed clean, and who knows what array of critters reside under your bed. So, make sure you vacuum. While you're at it, Super Sport, you can put clean linens on your bed, and the dirty sheets in the basket in the laundry room. When you're through with the projects you've been given to complete, make sure I see your finished homework tonight before you do anything else." He held out his hand. "I'll take the electronics you have stashed in your backpack...where they are not supposed to be. And, I've already locked your bedroom computer. You will get it back once you have all your chores done."
Cody leapt from his chair. His impassioned protest expressed, "You're not being fair!"
Sheriff Daniels drank the final drop from his coffee cup. In disapproval, he wagged his finger at the distraught boy and said, "Sit down! Or would you rather we conclude this discussion out in the shed? It's been a while since I've seen the pale white canvass that is your shining glory."
Cody knew what the sheriff's question meant. Like a pond with no ripples his defiance dissipated. He seated himself and released a tranquil, "Nuh-uh."
"Then, end of conversation. March!"
| Author Notes | This Is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
(Special kudos to Douglas Goff for his The Sequel contest I really wanted to enter this story in. However, since it is a Blind contest, simply naming Cody would allow everyone to know who wrote the piece. As I told Douglas, best regards for his contest.)
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Cast Of Main Characters:
Cody Jaxon Schroder - Mix of curiosity, mischief-maker, and a tad of altar boy thrown in for good measure. Ward of Sheriff Brock Daniels and Beth Sorenson. Born in Palo Pinto. Now relocated to the small West Texas town of Astatula.
Sheriff Brock Daniels - Long-time sheriff of Astatula and Cody's guardian
Beth Sorenson - Fiance of Sheriff Brock Daniels. Brought Cody to Astatula from Palo Pinto.
Malachi Mansfield - Mayor of Astatula
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The placards displayed by the passionate and boisterous Astatula citizens were written in dark black, boldface print with thick and heavy lines for emphasis. As the large crowd marched around in riotous demonstration, each one of them chanted over and over, " Hero! Hero! Hero!"
Cody knew, and understood, what their emphasized commotion was in response to. He'd never before supported a cause as much as he did this one. Everyone agreed the unsuitable situation rang full of inappropriateness and demanded their voices be heard.
He glanced a furtive peep out the opened front door of the Daniels' residence to avoid discovery. Cody recalled the sheriff had left no cards unturned. He'd made every possible effort to resolve the problem in an amicable manner with goodwill and the desire for an absence of antagonism.
Sheriff Daniels explained to Cody, "I used my patrol cruiser to stop the moving car in which I observed three small tots in the backseat and no driver. They were 2, 3, and 6 years old."
Triggered by the injustice, and feeling the sheriff had been mistreated, an irate Beth almost threw her water glass across the room. She said, "And, instead of receiving a commendation for another job supremely well done, Brock, you were suspended for one week without pay by that unqualified narcissistic liar Mayor Malachi Mansfield."
"Mansfield and I have butted heads before because of his inflated ego. We've bickered and expressed different opinions about several matters where we have struggled to get along because neither one of us will surrender an inch. Sometimes, in very angry and annoyed fashions," Sheriff Daniels responded.
Not placated by the sheriff's response, Beth said, "What fries my butt the most about this entire situation is Mansfield labeled your actions as not only department policy violations, but careless neglect. The dingus halfwit must think you are at his complete mercy. If his decisions weren't bad enough, he went as far as to call them intentional waste, loss, or damage to Astatula-owned property. Is there any wonder I'm opposing him in this upcoming election? Mansfield needs to be removed from office, pronto!"
"In Mansfield's book, it does not matter I have been the duly-elected sheriff of Astatula for more than fifteen years, or an overwhelming majority of voters know the job I have done in this town. Mansfield did not care my dashboard camera verified the exact stoppage steps I took. All he was concerned about were antiquated department policies and stifling statutes."
His objections to Mansfield's accusations apparent, Cody protested, "You were chasing armed robbery suspects driving the KIA you stopped."
Sheriff Daniels informed them, "The three children were hers. I watched her leap out of the driver's seat while the Sportage was still engaged and moved. She was found hiding out at the Goldberg Bakery on Spruce Street. Soon thereafter, a second suspect jumped out of the car from the front passenger seat, which left the vehicle driverless as it approached the steep downhill through the Cassandra Boulevard intersection."
"Brock, didn't you tell me the three-year-old hung on to the inside of the vehicle so she wouldn't fall out?" Beth asked.
"It sounds like you saved her life by stopping the runaway car like you did," Cody added.
"I feared for the safety of those three children since I could determine the car picked up speed, and you know how congested Cassandra Boulevard, the main drag through Astatula, can be."
"Your body camera captured you racing full tilt to the KIA to check on those children," Beth commented.
"Screaming and loud crying tend to make me take such measures," Sheriff Daniels replied. He reached out and patted Cody on the seat of his jeans. "Especially when those sounds come from the younger set."
"Fortunately, they were unharmed," Cody stated.
"What gets me is Suspect Number Three remained in the backseat with the children...and did nothing to prevent them getting injured, or worse."
"Doesn't Mansfield comprehend this car contained three little, helpless, children in it? No, all he said was you hit a car with children in it. Then he demanded, was that the smartest way to prevent the vehicle from moving? As if you're some kind of an idiot," Beth huffed.
"At least, you arrested all three of the no good crooks," Cody stated. He sucked a sip from his soda can. "I'd quit being the sheriff. Let Mansfield risk his life chasing criminals to keep us all safe like you do!"
"Quitting is never the answer, Cody. You never accomplish anything by quitting."
"Mansfield is the one who needs to quit, being such a dirtbag slimeball, that is! I'll do anything I can, Beth, to help get you elected Mayor. That's a promise!"
"Thank you, Cody. I appreciate your support."
"Reckon I best go outside and talk to our fellow Astatulans gathered to invigorate me."
Cody and Beth wrapped their arms around the lawman's waist in an illuminated manifestation of endorsement. In unison they assured him, "Not without us by your side you're not."
Removing all distractions from his mind, the conscientious and devoted Sheriff Daniels scanned his placarded front lawn. The townspeople's show of solidarity for all the hard efforts he had instilled into his job performance over the course of the last decade and a half reflected in their demonstrated agreement with his support. Their cheers, compliments, and expressions of confidence in him encouraged the sheriff.
Seeing them walk out of the house, someone yelled out, "There was no reason for the sheriff to be suspended!"
His proturberant eyes fluttered wide, a senior citizen in a red shirt stated, "He saved three children. The sheriff being suspended is an outrageous calamity of justice!"
Energized and animated in their conversation, the demonstrative crowd started up, "Protect and serve! Not a robot! Protect and serve! Not a robot!"
Sheriff Daniels analyzed the circumstances of the packed throng's presence and drew mental conclusions to interpret methods of how they could work together to validate their point. A reluctant thought lingered longer than he expected. After he served his suspension would he resume his office?
The placards displayed by the passionate and boisterous Astatula citizens were written in dark black, boldface print with thick and heavy lines for emphasis.
| Author Notes | This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
(NOTE: Many people buy and sell online at Amazon. Recently, I can be counted in those numbers myself. The allegations in this posting are real world.)
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Main Cast Of Characters (for all my Cody Schroder books and stories):
Cody Jaxon Schroder - Mix of curiosity, mischief-maker, and a tad of altar boy thrown in for good measure. Ward of Sheriff Brock Daniels and Beth Sorenson. Born in Palo Pinto. Now relocated to the small West Texas town of Astatula.
Brock Daniels - Long-time sheriff of Astatula and Cody's guardian.
Beth Sorenson - Fiance of Sheriff Brock Daniels. Brought Cody to Astatula from Palo Pinto.
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Sheriff Daniels glanced up from his thorough, detailed, perusal of the Astatula Gazette newspaper. The look flashed quick and short. He sipped a small mouthful of hot coffee from the cup Beth placed on the table in front of him. As the steam rose, he exclaimed, "Well, I'll be derned!"
Beth sat on the comfortable divan. Once owned by her now deceased grandmother, the family heirloom Chesterfield was a three-seater with top-grain, buffalo tan leather. She remembered Cody outside playing football with Matt and other neighborhood boys. Their games were always noisy, boisterous affairs. Or so, the participants professed.
She retrieved her knitting needles and stated, "Cody likes his clothes to be shades of blue. I couldn't bring myself to manufacture this in banana yellow. I hope he'll appreciate the sweater I'm making him for the coming winter. The way he keeps growing, he's going to need a new one." She looked at the sheriff and questioned, "What will you be derned about?"
The sheriff replied, "Cody just ordered that new game player from Amazon. He got a good deal on the price."
Beth told him, "I'm not following what you're saying, Brock."
Not one to hesitate answering questions, the sheriff replied, "Apparently, the FTC has filed an antitrust suit against Amazon for using an algorithm to jack up prices on rival sites, as the Wall Street Journal first uncovered, and, a, Amazon destroyed some internal communications they weren't supposed to delete."
"Smells like a monopoly to me," Beth commented. "Clue me in on the details, Cowboy."
"The lawsuit alleges Amazon executives intentionally deleted these suspicious communications by using the Signal app which makes messages disappear. These actions covered more than two years of such communications from June of 2019 clean through to about the early part of 2022, even though the FTC told Amazon not to destroy them," the sheriff informed her.
Curious, Beth laid her needles down on her lap. She wondered, "What did Amazon have to say about these messages?"
Sheriff Daniels took a bite out of his aromatic cinnamon bagel full of plump raisins. He preferred the savory flavors of the versatile snack. Sarcastic, as was his nature, he answered her question, "Of course, Amazon called the FTC's assertions about their deleted communications both baseless and irresponsible, according to some dude named Tim Doyle, who's supposed to be an Amazon spokesman."
"Some companies under investigation for activities they should not be involved with always have explanations for their unscrupulous business practices," Beth said. She picked up her needles and returned to her task at hand.
"Ol' Doyle's excuses included Amazon voluntarily disclosed employee Signal use to the FTC. He stressed Amazon, in his word, painstakingly collected Signal conversations from its employees' phones. And, what's more, Doyle stated Amazon even allowed FTC staffers to inspect those communications even when they did not apply to the FTC's investigation," the sheriff responded. He scoffed as though he thought Doyle's remarks contemptuous. "If I had one small dollar for every time a company made such statements we'd be retired in Tahati, or some other exotic climate."
"Knit one. Purl one. That's how to make the cuff," Beth counted out loud so the sheriff heard her. She asked, "When did this FTC investigation of Amazon begin?"
"In September of 2023," Sheriff Daniels explained, "Seventeen states, and the FTC, sued Amazon and alleged the company abused its position in the e-commerce marketplace to inflate prices on its platform. Oh, and a, off it too. Amazon has also been accused by the FTC of overcharging sellers and suffocating competitors."
"Sounds to me like another situation of a large corporation violating federal and state antitrust statutes to produce bigger bucks," Beth said.
"The article I'm reading here says the FTC's suit is the most aggressive move to tame Amazon's market power the government has undertaken to date. Don't know if I should allow Cody to order anything more from Amazon or not?" Sheriff Daniels contemplated.
The sheriff's hesitation captured Beth's attention. She proposed, "Why not?"
"Says here this algorithm Amazon codenamed "Project Nessie" has been used by them to select products to allow the company to best predict where it can raise prices and have other sites do the same. To make matters worse, allegedly Amazon kept those elevated prices in place and generated more than a billion dollars in excess profits from using "Nessie," the sheriff told her. "So, as I see it, are Amazon's deals really all that good or are they just another means to turn a quick extra buck or two?"
Beth wondered, "Does the article you're reading tell how many times Amazon has used this "Nessie" algorithm of theirs?"
"According to the FTC, Amazon deployed "Nessie" at least eight times they know of between 2015 and 2019. Interestingly enough, this Doyle character claimed "Nessie" was, as he called her, "an old pricing algorithm grossly mischaracterized by the FTC." Doyle further insinuated "Nessie was used by Amazon to stop price matching that kept prices of goods so low they were not sustainable." I do not know about all that," the sheriff responded.
"Smells like hog manure to me," Beth quipped.
"Here's a little tidbit about good ole Jeffrey Preston Bezos," Sheriff Daniels began.
Eager to learn something unusual, Beth asked, "Amazon's ex-CEO in the flesh himself?"
"None other." The sheriff smiled. "This report I'm telling you about says Bezos instructed his executives to accept more junk ads because Amazon could earn more money through increased advertising despite the ads being major headaches for consumers. Greed exemplified. Some things never change, do they?"
Beth returned to her masterpiece. "Well, let's just hope Cody does get his game player. We'll decide on letting him order more from Amazon when the time comes."
The front door swung open. Cody entered the room. His scalp displayed matted strands of hair twisted around each other into clumps. Dirt covered him from the top of his cornsilk hair to the bottoms of his shoeless bare feet. A sizable goose egg decorated the middle of his forehead.
Sheriff Daniels immediately noticed the red flag. He said, "You boys were supposed to be playing football. Not Kill the Man with the Ball. Come over here and let me see your head, Sprout."
Cody moved in front of the sherifff as Beth stood up and said, "I'll get an ice bag."
"Boys will be boys, and this one is all boy," Sheriff Daniels confirmed. Noticing Cody's grass-stained shirt and dust-covered jeans, he said, "Beth, would you draw Cody a tub of bathwater while you're up? I don't believe he could drag anymore dirt in this house if he tried, unless he used a bulldozer." He turned back to Cody and said, "Now, tell me how you got that hematoma on your noggin. It's spongy and feels rubbery. It'll probably be multi-colored in a day or two."
| Author Notes | This Is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories. |
By Brett Matthew West
Cast Of Characters:
Cody Jaxon Schroder - Mix of curiosity, mischief-maker, and a tad of altar boy tthrown in for good measure. Ward of Sheriff Brock Daniels and Beth Sorenson. Born in Palo Pinto. Now relocated to the small West Texas town of Astatula.
Brock Daniels - long time sheriff of the small West Texas town of Astatula and Cody's guardian
Buzz Cochran - Sheriff Daniels' closest associate
Matt Cochran - budding NFL Hall of Fame star quarterback, at least in his own mind, and Cody's best friend
Asher - robot in Cody and Matt's science class at Astatula Middle School
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Exalted on the bench overlooking the edge of the pier protruded out into Sullivan Lake, the charismatic Sheriff Daniels inhaled an exhilarating deep breath of fresh air. The cool breeze thrilled him with delight, and provided the lawman a regal feeling of magnificence and authoritarianism, though he would never surrender his personal freedoms. The sheriff treasured opportunities for rest and relaxation. Too often, in his line of work, they remained few and far between.
Restless, though unprovoked, Cody paced from one side of the dock to the other. He felt his temper grow short and fought to keep hostile behaviors bottled inside himself. Unsympathetic for the crawler's doomed fate, Cody baited a slithery worm on the metallic hook of his fishing rod. Frequenly, he referred to the spinning rod and reel combination as his "ugly stick." His distress did not abate. Cody yearned to hurl the contraption far across the lake.
When he purchased the fishing rod, the sheriff knew the reel contained glass-filled nylon, and featured a double-anodized aluminum spool for durability. The oxide layer provided Cody a little extra protective cover to help make the tool he employed last longer.
Out of the blue, and in an effort to ease some of his young charge's displayed uneasiness, Sheriff Daniels asked the bundle of nervous energy, "Wouldn't it be awesome to have a humanoid robot of your own to do all your chores for you?"
Evidenced by his facial expression, and the frown of displeasure that turned the corners of his mouth down, Cody disliked anything even remotely connected to artificial intelligence. His disposition sour, a disgruntled Cody snapped, "No!"
Not used to tempermental outbursts from Cody, particularly in fun-filled environments, Buzz and Matt Cochran studied one another.
Matt cast his line out in the calm water of Sullivan Lake he had swum in many times before and asked Cody, "Why not have your own robot?"
To this, Buzz added, "Robots are a decades-old engineering dream inspired by popular science fiction."
Cody looked at the sheriff. He did not have to search for his response. He said, "You're always telling me I watch too much television. Besides, my science teacher, Mr. Adams, told us in class the other day all the prototype robots built so far are nothing but clumsy, and impractical, wannabee humanoids. So, who needs them?"
The sheriff corrected his young ward, "Cody, current robot models are human-centric."
Fleeting words floated above the boy's head.
The sheriff noticed the impassive, matter-of-fact, expression on Cody's emotionless face and explained, "Human-centric is a big word. It means what robots are capable of doing, not what some people think robots are trying to be. I know you've heard of Tesla, and the multi-billionnaire Elon Musk. They're trying to build a robot humanoid they want to call Optimus."
Unbudged in his defiant attitude, Cody replied, "Mr. Adams told us their robot was way over-hyped and over-rated. And, it walked awkward, too. Kinda like a waddling duck. Mr. Adams also said their robot did not impress when it was demonstrated for the robotics community."
Fulfilling the specific function of making his point, Buzz cut into the conversation and stated, "For the record, you better watch out, Cody. There's a company a friend of mine over in Laredo informed me of called Apptronick, and they have a robot called Apollo."
Willfully contumacious, Cody's condescended response was a simple, "Maybe this Apollo will make like a rocket and blast off to the moon!" He rolled his baby blues in contempt.
Matt sensed the tension build. Excited by enthusiasm, and combustible with energy, he alerted the other three, "Hey, I got a bluegill!" He held the catch up to show the trophy dangling on the end of his fishing pole off. "Ain't it a big one?"
Sheriff Daniels listened to the exchanged conversation. Harmoniously, he chimed in, "Cody, walking is not the most difficult problem these robotics companies face in creating humanoid robots. Why, the other day on the news, I heard there's a company in British Columbia, Canada called Sanctuary AI."
Afflicted by the sheriff's revelation, the unhappy Cody slapped the palm of his right hand against his forehead. What was meant to be a joyous excursion to Sullivan Lake quickly grew worse by the moment. He exclaimed, "Not another robot!"
The sheriff smiled. "Yep, and the news reporter said the hardest problem with robots is actually getting these humanoids to understand the world and be able to manipulate their surroundings with their hands. Times are changing, my boy. Like them or not, robots are soon coming."
Cody's shoulders sagged in disappointment. He exhaled a heavy breath when he replied, "How sad."
It was Matt's turn to speak. He commented, "Some bipedal robots can unload delivery vehicles, stock shelves, and operate checkout registers. That's incredible!"
"Getting back to Elon Musk's company, Agility, they opened a factory up in Tangent, Oregon to mass produce robots," Sheriff Daniels remarked.
Cody knew the sheriff grew up in Portland, and though he'd never been there, he understood Tangent was only about an hour from the City of Roses. He glared at the sheriff, and like the little saucy impudent he could be when he took a notion to, wondered, "You're not a frigging robot. Are you?"
"Cody Jaxon! Watch your language!" Sheriff Daniels retorted sharply to counter the boy's direct vocalization. "Another thing about robots is many people simply will not work, and these robot builders could replace them with hard-working humanoids."
"Why? Is there a shortage of people running around this world all of a sudden?" Cody brusquely demanded, his tone curt.
"I think we've had enough of this discussion," the sheriff replied. "You boys get your gear together. It's time to call it an outing."
Cody and Matt stood off on the far side of the pier as a gull flew overhead. An irritated Matt reached down to pick up his tackle box. Exasperated by the abrupt ending of their fishing trip, he said, "Way to go, Cody. You blew this one!"
"At least there's one less robot in this world to worry about," Cody countered.
Immediately, Matt honed in on his meaning. "You're the one who murdered Asher? I should have known it was you."
Cody placed his finger to his lips to shush Matt. He admitted, "Yea, it was me. I hate robots!"
Inquisitive, and interested in what secret Cody would confide in him, Matt asked, "How did you kill Asher?"
"I trapped him in the science lab and turned the sprinklers on to short-circuit his wiring," Cody confessed.
Suddenly, a tight hand of authority grasped the top of Cody's shoulder. Without looking to see who nabbed him, he knew the gig was up.
Cody mouthed to himself, "Uh-oh!"
"Yes, uh-oh. A very big time uh-oh!" Sheriff Daniels replied. "March!"
| Author Notes |
This Is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to complement all my Cody Schroder books and stories.
Trying this out on Cody's FanStory readers to gauge their reaction and see if perhaps will also post on Cody's blog on another site he frequents. Let me know what you think. Thanks! |
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You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author! |
| © Copyright 2015 Brett Matthew West All rights reserved. Brett Matthew West has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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