| Letters and Diary Fiction posted June 10, 2016 |
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Diary Fiction-Potlatch Practice
A Wheelbarrow in the Garden
by michaelcahill
June 9 at 5:55PM
Gloria, they’re on to us.
Wha? Who’s on to us?
The syndicate, the committee, the FBI, the Condum Police, the Moisture Monitors, ALL of them. Damn it. THEY are on to us. I just messaged you the post.
Oh, that? I’m not worried. I’ve been chased by the Feds before. I doubt they’re going to worry about it.
No, did you read it? They’re monitoring us. I’m guessing round the clock. What if they find out I don’t anything? I don’t think it would go over too big it they found out my encounters take about five or ten minutes to complete including cuddling.
So, we better run then, eh?
Awww. You know I love it when you say "eh". Yeah, run. Damn! There’s my door.
Who is it?
We're here for Michael Patrick O'Cahill, Cyber Romancer and Chick Magnet.
He's not here. He's crossed state lines and international boundaries and might be in Canada, far as I know.
Listen we know you’re in there. Gloria’s in custody. We didn’t take any chances. We used enough tranquilizer darts to send a dozen elephants to dreamland. She still took two of the team out and they were pro wrestlers looking to make a name for themselves. Come out peacefully. Or maybe you’d like to shake hands with THE UNDERTAKER!
Whaaaaa? He’s dead … never mind. I’m coming out. End tape.
Crap. It’s going to be years before I get this typed into the computer. I can’t believe they captured Gloria. They must have used something really powerful, I know roofies didn’t faze her a bit ... I'm guessing, of course, I wouldn't actually ... well, you know.
June 9, 2016 11;14 PM
Well, the guilt is kicking in about now. I’m in jail and I’m guessing Gloria is too. Sorry, baby. This is all my fault. I never should have suggested that technique. DAMN ME TO HELL! I should have just told you, “Hey, doll, I can’t think of a thing.” But, no, I wanted to impress you and make you think I was creative and had a mind of my own. Yeah, it’s a stretch, I know. But I saw it on line, "the wheelbarrow". I even convinced myself it was for enjoyment. But, I knew I was lookin’ … lookin’ to HUMILIATE. Yep, I was lookin’ to be the one people looked up to for a change. The man, the kahuana, the big dog, the velveeta spread, the J.C. Penny mark down, well, you get the idea.
Well, I sent the not so innocent message. Hey, ahem, ah, err, ah, Gl … Glo … Gloria? Ah, like, ah, how about the wheelbarrow?
OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN! You were so innocent, just like a sweet little lamb led to slaughter. I can still hear your sweet voice, well, imagine it, since it was a message, “Yeah, mikey, that’s perfect. the wheelbarrow. That’s exactly what I’m looking for. Thanks.”
That was it. The ultimate irony. “Thanks.” Yeah, baby, thanks for sailing you down the river and having you branded a humiliater. Thanks for wiping out a lifetime of integrity and artistic genius with one single word. Yep, thanks, Mikey for ruining my life.
Well, court tomorrow. We’ll see if I have any Irish luck left. Somehow I don’t think I’ll end up on a beautiful beach with the most wonderful woman on earth. But, things like that do happen to me.
June 11, 2016
I haven’t seen or talked to Gloria in two days. I miss her. I wonder if she misses me? I’m kind of missable maybe. Maybe she has a plan. She’s awfully clever. But then, she might think the charges are so nuts that we’re just going to walk. But there’s the matter of that word. DAMN! One word, Wheelbarrow. Why not "hoe". One garden implement, used in the garden as good as another. Nope, you just had to use the exact right tool in the exact right spot to get the exact right usage. Always some insane commitment to nailing a good piece. Why couldn’t you just mail in crap like the rest of us.
Wow. Is it possible for a woman to look that good in an orange jumpsuit? Orange? Isn’t that for craz … naw, it must be a poetry in motion thing on your part … the rhythmic thing, symbolic, yes?
I hope I get to sit by her on the plane. What’s with all the chains? They just told me to stand still and wait. I guess she must have scared them with a poem or something. Whoa. How’d she do that? All the chains just drop to the floor. Oh my God, she took out all three guards.
But, how … she’s running towards me now. She looks like, well, amazing. What’s she up to?
I guess I’ll just go along with whatever it is. ESCAPE! That’s what it is. She’s escaping. Hmm. I wonder if she’ll take me? Oh my, she’s grabbed my hand. She’s taking me. We board the plane. Well, she boards the plane and leaves the door open. She looks at me like I’m stupid. I take that as my cue.
In moments, we’re on our way to … HAHAHA! I’m sworn to secrecy. If I tell she’ll have to kill …
August 23, 2017
She’s gorgeous, what can I say. I see her tiptoe from the wave slipping onto the beach along with the sandpipers, her giggles mixing with the tittering of their little song and the perfection of it all fills me. Is she the same force who took out three federal agents all by herself making our escape a reality? I flash back, as I often do, and see the scene unfold. Even in slow motion, Gloria moves like the rare snow leopard she once wrote about. It feels like your own eyes are toying with you. Yet, in moments, my hand was in hers and we were racing to the plane. But it was no longer the plane to our imprisonment. It was the plane to freedom. I only dreamed to walk on the beach with her one time and perhaps catch a Canadian sunset. I thought it a helluva dream to be honest.
But then … what? I had no idea how to open the cockpit door let alone fly out of there. She opened it like she'd done it a thousand times. I can still hear her words, clear as a bell.
“I saw a documentary on these a couple years ago. If I remember right, they look pretty easy to fly. Well, it’s all aerodynamics, how hard can it be?”
I watch her and the pipers chase the wave back out to sea now and laugh. How could such a statement be absolutely comforting and encouraging?
I can’t say really, but it was.
June 9 at 5:55PM
Gloria, they’re on to us.
Wha? Who’s on to us?
The syndicate, the committee, the FBI, the Condum Police, the Moisture Monitors, ALL of them. Damn it. THEY are on to us. I just messaged you the post.
Oh, that? I’m not worried. I’ve been chased by the Feds before. I doubt they’re going to worry about it.
No, did you read it? They’re monitoring us. I’m guessing round the clock. What if they find out I don’t anything? I don’t think it would go over too big it they found out my encounters take about five or ten minutes to complete including cuddling.
So, we better run then, eh?
Awww. You know I love it when you say "eh". Yeah, run. Damn! There’s my door.
Who is it?
We're here for Michael Patrick O'Cahill, Cyber Romancer and Chick Magnet.
He's not here. He's crossed state lines and international boundaries and might be in Canada, far as I know.
Listen we know you’re in there. Gloria’s in custody. We didn’t take any chances. We used enough tranquilizer darts to send a dozen elephants to dreamland. She still took two of the team out and they were pro wrestlers looking to make a name for themselves. Come out peacefully. Or maybe you’d like to shake hands with THE UNDERTAKER!
Whaaaaa? He’s dead … never mind. I’m coming out. End tape.
Crap. It’s going to be years before I get this typed into the computer. I can’t believe they captured Gloria. They must have used something really powerful, I know roofies didn’t faze her a bit ... I'm guessing, of course, I wouldn't actually ... well, you know.
June 9, 2016 11;14 PM
Well, the guilt is kicking in about now. I’m in jail and I’m guessing Gloria is too. Sorry, baby. This is all my fault. I never should have suggested that technique. DAMN ME TO HELL! I should have just told you, “Hey, doll, I can’t think of a thing.” But, no, I wanted to impress you and make you think I was creative and had a mind of my own. Yeah, it’s a stretch, I know. But I saw it on line, "the wheelbarrow". I even convinced myself it was for enjoyment. But, I knew I was lookin’ … lookin’ to HUMILIATE. Yep, I was lookin’ to be the one people looked up to for a change. The man, the kahuana, the big dog, the velveeta spread, the J.C. Penny mark down, well, you get the idea.
Well, I sent the not so innocent message. Hey, ahem, ah, err, ah, Gl … Glo … Gloria? Ah, like, ah, how about the wheelbarrow?
OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN! You were so innocent, just like a sweet little lamb led to slaughter. I can still hear your sweet voice, well, imagine it, since it was a message, “Yeah, mikey, that’s perfect. the wheelbarrow. That’s exactly what I’m looking for. Thanks.”
That was it. The ultimate irony. “Thanks.” Yeah, baby, thanks for sailing you down the river and having you branded a humiliater. Thanks for wiping out a lifetime of integrity and artistic genius with one single word. Yep, thanks, Mikey for ruining my life.
Well, court tomorrow. We’ll see if I have any Irish luck left. Somehow I don’t think I’ll end up on a beautiful beach with the most wonderful woman on earth. But, things like that do happen to me.
June 11, 2016
I haven’t seen or talked to Gloria in two days. I miss her. I wonder if she misses me? I’m kind of missable maybe. Maybe she has a plan. She’s awfully clever. But then, she might think the charges are so nuts that we’re just going to walk. But there’s the matter of that word. DAMN! One word, Wheelbarrow. Why not "hoe". One garden implement, used in the garden as good as another. Nope, you just had to use the exact right tool in the exact right spot to get the exact right usage. Always some insane commitment to nailing a good piece. Why couldn’t you just mail in crap like the rest of us.
Wow. Is it possible for a woman to look that good in an orange jumpsuit? Orange? Isn’t that for craz … naw, it must be a poetry in motion thing on your part … the rhythmic thing, symbolic, yes?
I hope I get to sit by her on the plane. What’s with all the chains? They just told me to stand still and wait. I guess she must have scared them with a poem or something. Whoa. How’d she do that? All the chains just drop to the floor. Oh my God, she took out all three guards.
But, how … she’s running towards me now. She looks like, well, amazing. What’s she up to?
I guess I’ll just go along with whatever it is. ESCAPE! That’s what it is. She’s escaping. Hmm. I wonder if she’ll take me? Oh my, she’s grabbed my hand. She’s taking me. We board the plane. Well, she boards the plane and leaves the door open. She looks at me like I’m stupid. I take that as my cue.
In moments, we’re on our way to … HAHAHA! I’m sworn to secrecy. If I tell she’ll have to kill …
August 23, 2017
She’s gorgeous, what can I say. I see her tiptoe from the wave slipping onto the beach along with the sandpipers, her giggles mixing with the tittering of their little song and the perfection of it all fills me. Is she the same force who took out three federal agents all by herself making our escape a reality? I flash back, as I often do, and see the scene unfold. Even in slow motion, Gloria moves like the rare snow leopard she once wrote about. It feels like your own eyes are toying with you. Yet, in moments, my hand was in hers and we were racing to the plane. But it was no longer the plane to our imprisonment. It was the plane to freedom. I only dreamed to walk on the beach with her one time and perhaps catch a Canadian sunset. I thought it a helluva dream to be honest.
But then … what? I had no idea how to open the cockpit door let alone fly out of there. She opened it like she'd done it a thousand times. I can still hear her words, clear as a bell.
“I saw a documentary on these a couple years ago. If I remember right, they look pretty easy to fly. Well, it’s all aerodynamics, how hard can it be?”
I watch her and the pipers chase the wave back out to sea now and laugh. How could such a statement be absolutely comforting and encouraging?
I can’t say really, but it was.
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