Wednesday Story day is here. Yes, our old friends Billy and Frank are the central characters again. I have had many comments on how these two remind us of Abbott and Costello. I would say the comparison might be closer to Dumb and Dumber. I find Abbott and Costello to be totally funny without a vicious bone in their body. I cannot say the same for Frank. I think Billy is just plain dumb and sometimes wish he would get the hell away from Frank. Much like the little kid following a big kid in school Billy seems to follow Frank for no other reason than he has no one else to follow. Well, enough of the chin music (or finger music) about these two. Here is the story titled Feelings.
Wednesday story day Yay! Hmmm sounds like a pretty poor poem doesn’t it? It is that time of the week to celebrate the fact that we just might make it to Friday. Wait! Don’t look back, something may be gaining on you. (Satchel Page said that). This week’s story is a little background (speaking of back) on why Billy became a bank robber. The title is All About Me.
Wednesday again. Sure sounds like a story day to me. So let’s get to it shall we. Today’s story is with Billy and Frank again. They made their way out of Starbucks by the skin of their teeth. There was no police involved and so they made a clean get away. The story is titled “You and I.” Hope you like it.
“Well, it could be the fact that the barista gave me a caffeinated latte.”
“Who cares about your damned latte? Yes I’m talking about the shotgun.”
“Well, the guy wouldn’t take my order so I just used what I learned from your bank plan.”
“The two aren’t the same Billy. Getting a three dollar latte is not the same as thousands of dollars.’
“You are so smart Frank. Tell me the difference.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. I figure when want something and you have a shotgun there is no reason why you shouldn’t have it.”
“And be prepared to go to jail for a three dollar heist?”
“I didn’t think that one out.’
“You think Billy? You and I need to go somewhere out of sight. We can’t go into a bank for a while. I’m sure there was a video recorder in that Starbucks and we will be known before too long.”
“You and I? I was the only one seen.”
“How do you know that?”
“Makes sense. I was waving the shotgun around. You just helped me out the door. I think your back was to the camera.”
“If that’s the case maybe I can pull a job alone.”
“Don’t say that Frank.”
“Say what?”
“That you can do without me.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I could pull a job alone.”
“Isn’t that the same?”
“No I mean I can go into the bank and you can drive the car.”
“What car?”
“We get a car to escape.”
“I drive it?”
“Yeah, that’s the idea. You know how to drive right?”
“Yeah, I can drive alright. We better go to the DMV though.”
“For what?”
“I don’t have a license.”
“You are going to help rob a bank and you are worried about a license?”
Wednesday is story day and today is no different. These stories are designed to celebrate the fact that the week is more of less under control. It gives me a chance to stretch a little and get away for a few minutes from the job at hand with is my third book in the John Cannon trilogy. I am at about 72,000 words and I see the finish at close to 95,000. As I said last Friday, my characters forced me to write a little differently so it will take me a little longer. Hopefully, the detour will be worth it. Today’s story takes us back to Frank and Billy and if you will recall Billy had not shot his shotgun ever. The story is back at the Starbucks and is titled Next.
“Here’s your decaf latte Frank. Low foam and almond milk.”
“Yeah thanks.”
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? You gotta be kidding me.”
“You still upset that I haven’t shot this shotgun before.”
“Put that thing under your coat. You want the cops to pick us up?”
“Aren’t shotguns legal?”
“In a friggin’ Starbucks? Look around you see any pheasants in here? Don’t you think if a cop came in and saw you waving that thing around he might wonder what I’m doing with a 9MM automatic pistol.”
“I never thought about that. Yeah, your pistol is certainly not legal. Especially with that thirty shot magazine.”
“Please Billy. Please shut up and let me think. We need to have a plan to knock off the bank.”
“Can we do it without guns?”
“Like with what.”
“We could pretend we have a bomb or something.”
“I don’t think we would scare anyone into giving us money with a fake bomb.”
“We could make it look pretty real.”
“I don’t think so. Get me another latte will ya.”
“Sure. Be right back. Hey, Barista I would like another low foam, decaf, almond milk, latte.”
“You have to wait sir. You are not next.”
“Oh yeah, see this gun. Everyone on the floor. Barista draw that latte and don’t touch the alarm.”
Wednesday story day has arrived. Ta Da. (you have to imagine the horn notes here) It is always nice to hit this milestone in the week. One of the reasons I enjoy Wednesdays is it is a day where I can pretty much write exclusively. Other chores on other days keep me away from the keyboard for a time. Wednesdays are pretty clear. I am about 65,000 words into my final John Cannon (who the hell is that you say? Tsk tsk) book in the trilogy. Once done I will be moving into a new story direction and will leave old John to bob on the Gulf with his seven million dollars and new sixty-five foot boat. Today’s story is named My Way and stars our old friend Frank. I hope you like it.
“So here is the thing. We need to get in and out without the alarm going off.”
“I understand that Frank. I just don’t know how we can pull that off.”
“We will do it my way.”
“What way is that?”
“You walk in with your shotgun under your coat. I come in behind you and grab one of the bank’s customers. I put a gun to their head and start screaming for everyone to get on the floor. I’ll throw in some swear words just to make sure they take me serious.”
“Oh, I think they will take you serious, but what’s to stop someone from hitting the silent switch.’
“Here is the beautiful part. You jump up on the counter and blow a hole in the back wall. Everyone will be so scared they won’t dare touch the switch.”
“You mean I have to fire the shotgun?”
“Yeah, what’s the problem?”
“I ain’t never fired it before.”
“Oh man. What the hell. Why didn’t you tell me that before we’re here in front of the bank?”
“I never thought I would have to shoot it.”
“Never have to shoot it. What the hell do you think we are doing?”
“Well, holding up banks.”
“Duh. Did you ever think you might have to shoot someone while holding up friggin’ banks?”
“No. Not really.”
“Crap. Let’s go back to Starbucks. We need a different plan. Maybe one that includes asking please when we order someone to fill the money bags.’
“You’re mad aren’t you Frank?”
“I’m beyond mad. Excuse me ma’am please kindly place all those greenbacks into the bag or I might have to raise my voice at you.”
Wednesday is here. Is your week good so far? I hope it is since that is the true way to have the work week move along at a better pace. Of course, we all know that. (Reminds me of the Geico commercial) Today’s story is one that has been on my brain for a couple of weeks and one of the best ways to give my brain a rest is to plunk it down here. The story is a little longer than I, usually, run it is 967 words. If you have the time I hope you like it.
So with nothing better to do, I figured I will stop at Jerry’s place and grab a couple a drinks and a burger. I, usually, don’t go there on Saturday night since there’s a crap load of amateurs takin’ up what I would consider prime space. Having not spent enough at Jerry’s to warrant bring able to call the shots, seat wise, I try to avoid Saturday if I can. Even so I go through the door, stop and have a look around. There’s the usual weekend crowd alright, hanging on each other like they never had a date before. I tighten my eyelids against the smoke and can make out four guys by the pool table and what looks like a couple of girls fetching drinks. I cross hustling some rubes out of a few bucks off my list since they will be forever playing eight ball with themselves.
Straight ahead is the bar and I do believe there is a place right in the middle. I get my feet to move in that direction while looking over the other side. The tables all seem jammed with happy drunks. There are buckets of empties on each table and I see the barmaid trying to sell more. She’s not having much luck since most of these people just spent their last five bucks on this outing. I make it to the chair and hoist myself up and lean on the bar.
“Hey Sammy,” Jerry says. “Whadda you have?”
“Evening Jerry. Gimmie a double Crown neat and a beer back.”
“Comin’ up.”
I like Jerry’s no-nonsense way he handles things. He doesn’t like small talk and gets right to business. I can feel my eyes start to smart from the smoke and wonder how Jerry gets away with letting people kill themselves when it is clearly not allowed in this kind of establishment.
“Here you go Sammy. Want me to run a tab?”
“Yeah, Jerry I would appreciate that. I intend to have another drink and then a burger.”
“No problem. Gimme the high sign when you’re ready for another.”
“Will do Jerry. Thanks.”
“For you buddy anything.”
I should mention Jerry and I go back a ways. We were in the Army together and had ourselves a real ball. We could hardly believe we were getting paid for having so much fun. I take a sip of my drink and wait for the hot assed burn in my throat which signals the good stuff. There it is. I take a swig of the beer and almost believe life is good. I think I’ll wait for the whiskey to get to the brain before making any judgment.
While I’m waiting for the warmth of the Crown go from my stomach to my head, I check out the folk sitting on either side. Not too friendly as they both have their backs turned to me and are engrossed in some kind of discussion with their neighbor. I figure it’s just as well, since I don’t want to go through that old “what do you do” bullshit. I also don’t figure on staying the night, so no use getting into any long discussions about life.
I look down at my Crown and start to wonder what’s going to happen tomorrow. It’s gonna be Sunday and my daughter wants to come and visit. She lives in Connecticut and we don’t see each other often. It’s only an hour’s drive or even less by train, but it seems like a world away. Her husband is a nice enough guy, yet I always wonder if he has someplace important to go when I visit. He never sits still and is on the phone or at the computer. He makes a good living, but it seems to me a person could take an hour to sit and talk. I never had a son and was looking forward to some kind of relationship when he and daughter got married. It’s never going to happen with him.
I take another pull at my drink and notice the burn is lessened. It happens every time. First sip initiation I call it. It’s like the first puff of a cigarette, hits ya hard then after nothing. I decide to let daughter pretty much have the agenda tomorrow. She and I have not really had a chance to talk for a while. I think she blamed me when her mother ran off with that guy with the house on the Hudson. He has a title and the old gal couldn’t resist, but I think daughter always felt I should have done something. Her mother’s sleeping with another guy. What the hell can I do about that? I’ll just go with the flow. If she wants to go out we will. If she wants to stay in we can do that too. I better think about getting some food in the house. Of course, we can always order in. I need to move on to my drink and let this go. Tomorrow will be what it is. I hope we can somehow patch up whatever is wrong.
For some reason, I feel pretty tired and think I will go ahead and finish my drink. Maybe I’ll just go home and forget the burger. First though I think I’ll just shut my eyes for a minute. My hands feel good as I put my head down.
“Hey, Sammy,” Jerry says. I barely hear him yell. “What’s the matter you taking a nap? Sammy?” I can feel him shake me, but I have no interest in waking up. His voice gets further away and I think he says, “oh my god Sophie call 911 quick.” Now the room goes silent and I am so tired.
Wednesday once again. I always love Wednesdays for two reasons: 1. It means Friday is within reach. 2. I get to tell a story. Of course, telling story requires having someone around to read the story. That someone is you and I am very happy to have you here today. I hope you like this little story and yes, it is about one of our favorite characters, Frank. It is titled the Bank.
The Bank by John W. Howell
“Frank, when we going to knock off the First National?”
“Oh, I don’t know Dave. What’s so special about the First National?”
“I hear they give lollipops to the kids in the drive through.”
“Yeah, so what?
“You and I could go through the drive through and while we were taking the money we could demand that the clerk put all the lollipops in a bag too.”
“Sheesh Dave. I wonder how I manage to pull off any of these jobs without your insightful strategic planning input.”
“Strategic what?”
“Planning you idiot. Planning. Can you imagine pulling up to a drive-through and flashing some heat and demanding anything? The clerk could just duck and we would be hanging out with nothing. Oh yes, the camera would have our license plate number in full color.”
“Okay Frank. I got a little carried away.”
“Dave, focus. We are going into this bank and we will grab the pres before the time lock goes off on the safe. We will then fill these bags and take off before any alarms. You got it?”
Wednesday has come up pretty fast. It is, usually, a good thing when we realize we will make through the week. Wednesday also means another story. This week I’m going to do something a little different. If you recall last week’s story had Frank seemingly taking the advice of his friend Dave. He admired a flower on the way to rob a bank since Dave told him he needed to enjoy things more. Normally I don’t continue Frank stories from one to another. The reason is Frank stories are not necessarily related to each other, but I will continue this one as if it is a serial. Now that I have taken too much time explaining let me just pick up the story where we left off last week. We join Dave and Frank in a hurry to get to the bank before the automatic lock on the safe engages. The story is named Smell the Roses part II.
“Yeah, I promise. Now let’s go. The bank closes in a few minutes and we need to grab the president and clean out the safe before the automatic lock is engaged. Oh, wait Dave. Look at that rose on the bush over there. Man that’s what I call beautiful?”
“That’s it Frank. Well done.”
“You must be kidding Dave.”
“Whadda you mean kidding?”
“That’s it Frank. Well done. You weenie.”
“Weenie? What d’you mean?”
“Here we are on the way to rob a freaking bank Dave. Wake the hell up.”
“I thought you were really appreciating that rose.”
“And if I was, wouldn’t the timing of such crap be a little inappropriate?”
“Not to me. I would think you had some redeeming value.”
“That’s why you are a weenie and I’m the boss.”
“Some boss Frank.”
“Yeah? Now what do you mean?”
“Boss over a weenie? Really Frank?”
“J’you check your gun weenie?”
Yeah, you want to see it?”
“Don’t get smart Dave. We’re here. Oh, look Dave another Rose. Best color I’ve seen.”
Wednesday story day again. I can’t believe how peaceful it is here at the coast. I was walking on the beach this morning and there was not a person for about as far as the eye can see. The gulls and pelicans are about the only thing moving around. The nice thing also is the water seems to be calmer and is the prettiest shade of blue. We had some nice rain last week and it certainly helped the flowers. I guess all this talk about the surroundings is to introduce the story for this week. This week’s story is all about taking a moment to enjoy the beauty around you. Our hero Frank is not one to be in the moment, but his friend Dave is trying to help him out. The story is titled Smell the Roses. I hope you like it.
“So Frank what did you do today?”
“Not much Dave. Of course, I went to that damn office and when I got there the boss was in a foul mood. He picked everything I did apart.”
“Like what?”
“Well, he wasn’t happy with the take from yesterday.”
“Not happy? My god, we delivered over fifty grand.”
“Tell me about it. Next time you need to drop off the dough. I have had it with the crap he hands out.”
“You know Frank you need to take some time to enjoy the beauty around you.”
“Whaddyamean, beauty?”
“Well, the boss give you crap so you should find something to look at that gives you pleasure.”
“Pleasure? I really don’t know what the hell you are talking about.”
“Look Frank. Let’s say you get chewed out. You leave the office and you need to find a flower, nice looking shrub or even a cloud to admire. It will give you some meaning in your life.”
“Okay Dave. We need to go.”
“Promise me you’ll try finding something beautiful.”
“Yeah, I promise. Now let’s go. The bank closes in a few minutes and we need to grab the president and clean out the safe before the automatic lock is engaged. Oh, wait Dave. Look at that rose on the bush over there. Man that’s what I call beautiful?”
Wednesday story day is here already. Seems like a good thing to have the week more or less zoom by, but we need to remember that life is about the journey, not the destination. Would be a good idea to remind ourselves to live in the moment and make each and every minute count. This week’s story is about making every minute count and of course our boy Frank will be the prime example of not following this advice. The story is titled Moment and I hope you like it.
