Of Playthings and Puppets

As I wrote last entry, I enjoyed myself several hours of Halo 3 rank Living Dead madness over the weekend, sucking all the life from my free time and leading to a very bored fiance. For those of you who haven’t played Living Dead… what the Hell is wrong with you? It’s not only the best gametype found within the FPS, but it’s only ranked 3 days of the year. That’s right, only Halloween weekend. Sadly, I again missed grabbing a 50 (the highest) due to playing far less than I did last year, though I did manage a respectable 41 for my time. Maybe next year….

But this isn’t about Halo 3. Or zombies. Well, maybe a little of the latter. You see, as I already mentioned, this past weekend was Halloween. Halloween! A night of ghouls and goblins and… uh… oh yeah, ghosts (a whole other meaning to “3G” huh?). Those of you who celebrate Halloween likely do it in many different ways. Hell, I even know a girl who has a birthday party that day. Certainly we can’t all go out and expect to get candy from strangers… unless it’s “candy” instead, which, you know, could mean oh so many wondrous things.

Yet I think that if you DO celebrate (there are far too many who DON’T) Halloween, there are certain ways to do it, almost all of which correspond to age. Let’s see if we can break this down a bit.

Ages 1-2ish: You probably can’t walk yet, let alone suck on some candy, so unless you’ve got some older siblings, you’re probably not going out beyond your house. Doesn’t mean you aren’t dressing up, though. You might go out in this (ain’t that friggin adorable? My God).

Ages 2ish-maybe 12: Now it’s candy time. “Trick or Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!” Butterfingers, Skittles, Almond Joys, Reese’s, Krackle, Hershey’s, etc. and so forth all get lobbed into a random plastic bucket to be enjoyed either later that night or for the next few months. Some parents like to stiff their kids though when they check them for razors; always be wary of that. Oh, there’s also dressing up. That’s pretty fun, too. I think the Power Rangers and TMNT were the big ones growing up for me… don’t rightly remember what I wore now, though.

Ages 13-17: Ah, high school stupidity. Not content to go around at night only anymore, we now rock the halls in our outfits and later do one of three things: go scare kids or generally mess with people; go to a party and maybe get drunk; or go home and do nothing. Maybe a combination of the three. ‘Course, if you’ve got younger siblings at this point, it’s a completely different bag o’ tricks.

Ages 18-21: College stupidity now! Dressing up in slutty or stupid outfits never gets better than it does now, and with all the booze flying around campus this weekend, what better way to say “Hi” to the pretty chick than to drunkenly compliment her on her barely-there witches costume. Conversely, it’s a good time to see just how creative your man is, or just how far he’ll go to look like the biggest douche in the land.

Ages 22-28: This frame varies on a number of things, especially if you’re going to grad school and if you manage to land a job. You might be doing just what you did during college or you might not be doing anything at all. Then again, maybe you’re carving pumpkins with the person you loved or watching scary movie marathons. Whatever you choose, if you’re even remotely showing some kind of maturity, celebrating Halloween is starting to get a little… tiring.

Ages 29-40: Now it gets interesting. If you have kids, you’re starting the whole cycle over again, dressing them up in cute Superman costumes (cause, really, it never gets old) and getting candy out for other children. If you don’t have any, chances are you’re now going to “adult” costume parties, places with spiked (and non-) apple cider, background music instead of noise you can barely talk over, and people you actually wouldn’t mind seeing instead of the random slut in her latest “Feels like I’m wearing nothing at all!” costume.

Ages 41-60: Maybe you take the kids out for Halloween, dragging them down city streets with a flashlight to make sure Michael Jackson look-a-likes don’t snatch them when you aren’t looking, or maybe you’re sitting at home, carving your pumpkin and giving out candy to whomever comes knocking. It’s enjoyable. Relaxing. And you remember why Halloween was fun in the first place as you realize you’re not getting any younger.

Ages 61+: At this point, you’re probably not going to the costume parties anymore, what with that sore leg, and your ex always showing up with his/her new beau. The kids are busy doing their own thing now, so you’ve got to fend for yourself. Maybe you have a drink. Maybe you just do whatever you do every other night. At this point, it’s either special or it isn’t. And, once you hit the end, just knowing you’re alive and able to chomp down a Milky Way should you feel like it is enough to keep you feeling rather chipper.

Because of a terrible Internet connection, I just finished a weekend-long bout of Halo 3’s Living Dead ranked playlist (okay, it wasn’t the whole weekend, but it might as well have been). There’s still a couple hours left, so if you have the game (you really should), I’d suggest you get some time in as it won’t be around again ’til next year.

Blog/other stuff will be coming tomorrow.

The last time I was truly sick, to the point of having to stay isolated to a couch for a whole day, I was ten. It was a Saturday, my brother was in the backyard, and I was pinned under a blanket within running distance of the toilet. A black and white monster movie marathon was playing on the Sci-Fi channel. As I drifted in and out of a dazed stupor, I watched, lazily casting a glance at giant squids, fungal blobs, and growling yetis toppling landmarks. After a while, I noticed the commercials began to repeat themselves. Once, twice, three times. In the end, I wasted my day away tallying monster movie commercials on a checklist and sucking down popsicles. Not a very productive day, but certainly rather enjoyable.

Not so much this time. Though I haven’t been throwing up and, in fact, feel rather well today, being sick as an adult is not as much of a picnic as it was while being a child. Having contracted this illness somewhere either Monday or Tuesday, my sickness boiled to a head Wednesday night and led to a “randomly hit by a truck in the middle of the night” feeling Thursday morning. I e-mailed out (sure beats calling when your throat is throbbing), went back to sleep, and eventually scheduled a doctor’s appointment. Not much more needs to be said, but let’s just say I got a nice dose of anitbiotics and directions to not go into work for 24 hours.

Well then.

Any hopes of making good use of my time certainly went out the window, as Thursday was bascially spent in a pseudo-daze between random Facebook postings and channel changing. Concentration was certainly out of the question as, trying to do something useful by reading a book, I became dizzy from the printed page. That’s not to say I didn’t try. And I kept at it. By late Thursday night, I had stacked up some good time for my Creativity Chart. Today got even better as, though I was apparently rather contagious, and aside from still feeling like someone had beaten me with a baseball bat, I was fully able to concentrate.

After a late sleep, a tasty breakfast, and a beautifully hot shower, I sat down and wrote for well over an hour.  I then moved on to something else and edited for another good deal of time. In all, before even sitting down to write this wonderful piece of blogging literature (modest, ain’t I?), I managed to squirm in my computer chair for 134 minutes. Not too bad, I’d say.

The problem, however, is that these past two weeks have not been nearly as successful. You may have noticed my lack of a Creativity Chart update as well as there not being an excerpt to share this week. Well, it’s not that I’ve been busy really. I’ve just had difficulty forcing myself to sit down and type away. Not entirely certain why. Of course, the sickness didn’t help from this Tuesday onward, but there really was no excuse for last week.

I wish I were being paid for this, it’d make doing it so much easier.

See for yourself just how badly I’ve performed:

Date	Writing	Drawing	Total
October 11, 2009	0		0
October 12, 2009	55		55
October 13, 2009	40		40
October 14, 2009	8		8
October 15, 2009	0		0
October 16, 2009	45		45
October 17, 2009	0		0
Week Total:			148
Date	Writing	Drawing	Total
October 18, 2009	0		0
October 19, 2009	0		0
October 20, 2009	63		63
October 21, 2009	0		0
October 22, 2009	82		82
October 23, 2009	134		134
October 24, 2009			0
Week Total (to date):			279

Would you just look at all of those zeroes? I don’t know how I’ll ever expect to become a published author with those types of figures. But I suppose there are on times and there are off times, and lately has most certainly been off. Here’s hoping I can improve and actually put the idea swimming endlessly through my mind down so they can just stay the Hell out.

I may have previously alluded to only purchasing a handful of books for the remainder of the year. Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol was one of those (as was Stephen King’s Under the Dome, which just got its price slashed across the board–very beautiful). After finishing the book today, I honestly wish I hadn’t bothered with it.

The hotly anticipated books premise is a relatively simple one: Robert Langdon, protagonist of the infamous The Da Vinci Code, is back and this time he’s in D.C. to look for another (surprise!) hidden artifact. Along the way, there are freaky male antagonists (this one has tattoos on top of being pale and hairless), some kind of love interest (sadly, not a descendant of Jesus this time around), a friend to lend a hand (pun intended for those who’ve read the book), and a handful of CIA agents and the like. Yes, this is all quite simple, but unfortunately, it also reads rather simple.

I’m not sure whether or not Da Vinci Code utilized the same tactic, as I haven’t read it in some time, but each chapter of Lost Symbol ends on a what seems like a cliffhanger. This happens regardless of whether the section is three or ten pages long. This technique is usually meant to drive tension and build suspense, yet as I read, the cliffhangers only served to annoy me. Compounding this annoyance was the overuse of not revealing integral parts of the story to readers despite characters reacting to said event. Too many times, I was confronted with Langdon performing a double take or sighing in exclamation at a new development, yet I would have to wait multiple chapters to understand. This didn’t occur with just the mysterious side of the book, either. In fact, one of the final chapters has Brown exclude Langdon asking another character to visit the hospital… a point revealed just a page later.

These may seem enough to annoy any reader, but Brown took it even further by overlaying the text with extensive expository paragraphs that serve only to slow the pace of this “thriller.” I won’t spoil any particular point, but Brown does this in nearly every chapter, and clutters the story’s climax with lengthy dialogue that supposedly serves to explain the book’s “mystery” (not entirely mysterious, nor exciting, actually). Even before this climax, the expository paragraphs served to spoil the final “twist” hundreds of pages before it occurred, though none of the characters seemed to figure it out and are somehow shocked at title’s conclusion.

All of this occurs in a book with the absolutely dullest characters. Langdon is a walking encyclopedia with faulty eidetic memory (he can remember every phone number he’s ever dialed but not a grid of characters seen just a few minutes earlier?) that is either shocked or disbelieving of every fact thrown is way. The antagonist wants to screw everyone over for seemingly no reason (even given his eventual reason, his actions still seem a bit… extreme). Love interest Katherine could be interesting, but is too one-note to be anything worthwhile. The only sympathetic character is Langdon’s friend Peter, who barely appears at all. Even the other supporting characters barely bring anything more to the table but more misdirection and/or explanations.

It all boils down to a paint-by-numbers thriller lacking anything remotely resembling a thrill. Several times throughout the book, I simply wanted to put it down and read something better, but after spending my money, I simply couldn’t do it. I wanted, hoped, it would turn around and be worthwhile. It wasn’t. And I’ll never get those days back. But I did learn to avoid any Dan Brown titles in the future (not like it matters; the man never has to work another day in his life, does he?).

In case none of you were aware, this weekend Wizard is hosting the Big Apple Comic Con in New York City. Supposedly, advanced tickets have been selling quite well despite an increased price ($35-$40 each compared to only about $12 in previous years [or free earlier in the year!]). Based on my past experiences with the Con… it’s really not worth that much. It’s far smaller than New York Comic Con and, honestly, just not nearly as enjoyable. I suppose this is what happens when NYCC is still a whole year away (!).

If you are going, though, be sure to drop by Terminal Press‘ booth (#418) and give them some business. The guys are cool as Hell and their books are just fun.

But, as I wrote in this entry’s title, I’m in Vermont, so it all doesn’t matter for me. Instead of comics, I’m looking at changing leaves and hiking on trails. Instead of smelling sweaty fat men dressed as Harry Potter, I’m breathing clean, fresh mountain air. And instead of bumping elbows and dodging crowds of fans, I’m driving along fairly deserted highways with my fiance in my new car.

It’s definitely a trade up.

We’re doing some fun things, too (though there’s nothing like the feeling of picking up a stack of comics and slashing them from my list). After driving up here today, taking our sweet time to look over the mountains and valleys, we took a tour of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream factory and partook in some free samples. If you’ve never taken a tour of the facilities (or even had a B&J!), I highly recommend it as the half hour journey through the bowels of the factory is both informative and fun and, at $3 for adults, a fair bargain considering the ample sample at the end.

We then travelled down to our present location, Killington, a small ski-town seemingly abandoned in the off-season months. No cars travel down two-lane highways. The tourist traps are all closed. A wall of menus in our hotel isn’t applicable as only three are actually open. The ski slopes are smooth, the gondolas silent. It’s rather romantic, actually, and more great times are ahead as the weekend continues (Keene Pumpkin Fest tomorrow!).

Yet all through driving to B&J, stopping by Long Trail Brewing Co. for a sampler, watching the Phillies/Dodgers game while munching at a Pulled Pork Sub, and dodging moose for 15 mile stretches, the idea of actually living in a place like this never really entered my mind. I just honestly don’t think I could do it. Having lived in Storrs, CT for four years, a location just 30 minutes from a relatively large shopping area, and absolutely hating every minute I had to drive, the concept of living miles and miles and miles away from what I consider civilization is simply not appealing.

I need the city. I need New York. I need a subway station, drunken and smelly vagrants, buildings reaching for the sky, trees surrounded by fences within a park, dogs on leashes, groceries from a super store. How could I live without a massive bookstore, a Post Road, a pick of restaurants respresenting every corner of the world, department stores, and let’s not even forget the natural wonder of wonders… the OCEAN! Yes, there are mountains aplenty, snow every which way you look, and some lovely mountain trails. But this isn’t me. I want to sit in the back of gypsy cabs, wind my way through traffic, eat a greasy hot dog boiled in sewar water, and bask in the sun on a sandy beach.

You know… this is probably why all but two of my currently planned books will be based in New York City….

Part two of two! Enjoy. (For the first part of the chapter, click here.) Stick around for the next two chapters in coming weeks.

“I’ll see you guys. Alright, let’s see… I guess this must be it? Ma’am? Maria? Are you there? Come on, open the door, lady—hello? Hi.”

“Hi… you’re an officer?”

“Yes, that’s right. Detective Tony Procyk, ma’am. And you’re Maria Alexandros?”

“The one and only.”

“Great. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about this morning and your neighbor?”

“Annie? No. Please, go ahead. Would you like to have a cup of coffee? I brewed some before and I just… I just can’t finish it all no matter how much I’d like to.”

“Sure, please, thank you.”

“Do you think anyone else would like any? I have plenty? And I could always make another pot?”

“I’ll ask them when we’re finished, okay? I promise.”

“Okay, thank you. So what would you like to know?”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what happened.”

“Alright. Well, what can I say? You know, I woke up just like always and I was going out—”

“What time was this?”

“A little after nine thirty, maybe closer to nine forty five. Sometime around there.”

“Did you look at a clock or anything before you left?”

“No, I had just watched the news and I waited to see the weather and that’s about the time they show the weather on the news, you know, that in-between time that people who need to leave and go somewhere need to know what its like outside.”

“So, continuing.”

“Tony, right? I was leaving around then to go for my usual morning jog—”

“You always go for a jog?”

“Are you going to let me finish my story?”

“Sorry.”

“Yes, I always go for a jog, just about the same time every morning. What else is an old lady to do? I’m not going to sit around watching reruns of Lucy all day and the soaps aren’t on until later. Look, my husband’s been dead for seven years and I’ve been alone since then, so I do what I want to do, you got it? I love jogging. I go for about an hour or two, run all over, through the park, down the city, maybe I stop at a little store or something and pick up a croissant for breakfast, but I go jogging and yes, I do it practically every day. So, I was leaving, and I noticed Annie had her door open. I thought maybe she just left it open by mistake, you know, it happens—”

“Had she ever left the door open before?”

“No, not that I remember, but I’ve been known to forget to lock my door before, so I can understand it when you’re in a rush or something, so I walked over to the door and knocked and called her name, thinking she might be in there or something. The lights were all on from what I could see, you know, the living room and kitchen combo area, those lights were all on, so I figured she was home. I walked in, slowly, called her name again. You know, it’s weird, but I think, well, I think I knew something was wrong as soon as I stepped in there… I can’t really describe the feeling, but it was like I knew she was in trouble. So I kept walking in there, and I just followed the lights. Through the door by the couch, down the little hall, and to her bedroom… and that’s… that’s where… well, you saw her.”

“Yeah.”

“And I just ran out. I was in so much shock. I didn’t even cry until after calling nine-one-one. Then I just sat down and couldn’t control myself. She was always… always such a good neighbor. And so sweet. I just… I can’t believe—”

“It’s alright, it’s okay. We’ll find whoever did this to her, you can believe that.”

“Such a wonderful girl….”

“Did she… someone mentioned that sometimes she brought guys home?”

“Well, you know, she is young. And attractive. And single. Is it wrong to bring men home?”

“No, of course not.”

“So, she had her fun. She never figured this would happen.”

“Do you know where she went? A specific bar or anything?”

“No, I never talked to her about that. She was always quiet about that kind of stuff with me. You know, I never really saw her ever talk to anyone about it. Such is the way of the young people. Do you have kids, Tony?”

“Actually, yes, I have a baby boy. Walt.”

“Aren’t they precious? God… I always wanted to have children. Rick, my husband, and I tried so much, but we never could have any. I know I should’ve adopted at some point… but, no. It wasn’t the same. I don’t know.”

“So you live alone now?”

“Right.”

“And so you were here alone this morning?”

“When?”

“About seven or eight?”

“I was… you don’t… you don’t think I’m a suspect? You think I killed little Annie?”

“No, no, you misjudge. I was just getting as much facts as I—”

“Now you listen here, Mr. Procyk. I did not hurt a hair on that little girl’s head and I swear to you that if I saw the man that did that to her I would kill him. Now, I know that’s something I shouldn’t tell you, but to see someone do that to another person, that’s just God awful and whoever did it, why, they should just burn in Hell for the rest of eternity.”

“Right. Thank you, Mrs. Alexandros. We’ll need you to come down to the station to give your formal declaration. I’ll have an officer come get you in just a little while, alright?”

“This wasn’t formal enough?”

“No, this is… this was me trying to help Anne-Marie.”

“Annie.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No, thank you. And for the coffee.”

Sorry for the delay on this post. I honestly would’ve kept to schedule if not for an unexpected… opportunity. I’ll talk about this more should it pan out, but let’s just say much of my available writing time was dedicated to this single piece over the last few days. That said, the second excerpt of Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow around 12:30 EST.

Bookmark it!

Still, even without updating a thing, I pulled well ahead of my writing time from last week (though it remains a bit inconsistent… still got to work on it).

Date	Writing	Drawing	Total
October 4, 2009	25		25
October 5, 2009	45		45
October 6, 2009	58		58
October 7, 2009	30		30
October 8, 2009	25		25
October 9, 2009	70		70
October 10, 2009	75		75
Week Total:			303

My friend and coworker, Sean, asked me an interesting question today. He said, “Do you think the Internet does more good than bad?”

Honestly, I had a little trouble answering. Sure, the Internet has done some outstanding things for our civilization, particularly within the research and media industry. Whereas years ago, extensive library research was required for any type of in-depth reporting, a simple Google search could practically do exactly the same. Articles can then be posted to the Web immediately and be seen by millions across the globe.

It’s limitless information at your fingertips. Ingenious. Wonderful.

Yet the question is valid because the Internet has done as much harm as, or perhaps more than, good. Without even breaking the topic of online pornography (Actually, have any of you seen the latest episode of Family Guy? Resident pervert Quagmire displayed perhaps one of the most memorable scenes of Internet porn discovery ever seen on television) and the widespread purveyance of sex offenders, the Internet has led to increases in crime, particularly theft, impersonation and fraud. That isn’t to mention the massive effects instant access to news, statistics, and price comparisons has wrought on society.

But technology, particularly the Internet, is here to stay, so like any other massive change in the way we live, it must be adapted to no matter the consequences. Being only 23 years old, I’ve already seen far-reaching technological advances completely throw my world out of whack. Don’t believe me? Let’s look at a few examples (with handy dandy links for those who don’t know what the Hell I’m talking about!)

• The first family TV was a 23″ color floor model surrounded in faux wood complete with a remote affixed permanently with a thin wire.
• Our VCR came later, attached through the cable jack, and did not rewind the tape. For that, we had to have a separate Rewinder that sat atop the VCR.
• Around 8 PM, the channels “changed” between programs, and some even switched off around 11 PM, turning to a static screen or otherwise.
• Nintendo’s Entertainment System (NES) was my first video game console and originally hooked up to our second TV, a 13″ color screen. My first game was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Arcade Game, a 2-D side-scroller more enjoyable than most games I’ve played since.
• We had one phone in the kitchen. It had a cord that stretched just far enough to sit down at the dining table. An answering machine, with tapes, was next to it.
• Our first stereo system could play only cassettes and records and had two speakers.
• The first upgrade was the stereo system, with the new one offering a CD player (just one disc). This was later expanded by a 5-Disc CD changer.
• After stabbing the family TV with scissors to find out what was inside, we had to buy a newer, larger one. This was 32″ and was quickly joined by my own 27″ screen.
• I remember buying my first cassette. And my first CD. My first MP3.
• Our first computer was a Gateway with a 17″ monitor (tube) and no memory whatsoever. The sound of a cheetah accompanied by a video of one running attracted me to it. The entry was from Encarta.
• I didn’t have a cell phone until high school. It had a monochrome screen and no options for a wallpaper, let alone a camera, MP3 player, and whatever else is offered in phones today.
• My first DVD player was the PS2, my first Blu-Ray player the PS3. My iPod is a fourth gen, amazingly still works, and shows lovely pictures in full color.
• I finally have a car with keyless entry. Oh, what a wonderful thing.

Those are only some of the examples I can think of off the top of my head, an evolutionary overview of the technology I’ve owned. It amazes me to think, like I’ve done with black and white TVs, 8-Track tapes, turn-dial phones, etc., my children will look back at the technology we considered so advanced at the time and think it nothing more than a relic. They will find them at flea markets and tag sales, throw them into piles of junk when we die, and read about them in textbooks.

Of course, I’m without a doubt certain of this: technology will fail them just like it’s failed us. They will smash things, they will throw them against the wall, wonder why the batteries aren’t working, deal with slowdown, and absolutely hate whatever it is they’re buying in twenty years time.

Though, I don’t think they’ll ever have to blow dust off of an NES cartridge. That’s just for us.

Seriously, why did that work so well?

Well, hello again. How’s it going? Beautiful day, huh? Bit windy though around here. Think a tree fell down somewhere over here, too. I know my fiance’s house was riddled with falling limbs and nuts during lunch… yet somehow, the dog managed to escape completely unscathed as things fells all around him.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Another excerpt. You’ll notice the first one, here, was completely different than what’s to come now… but it’s a good thing, believe me. Lots and lots of weird tricks up and down this book. Of course, this chapter and many subsequent chapters are also a bit more frustrating… you’ll see what I mean.

So, please to enjoy, Sanity’s Flaw, Chapter Two (part one): 11:18 A.M.

“So, Charlie… ever seen anything like this?”

“Nope, not in my time. Too much for you, Jim?”

“No. No, it’s not that. It’s just… I was just thinking it reminded me of that movie. That one with the guy that ate people and the other guy that dressed up in women’s skin? Anthony Hopkins.”

“Silence of the Lambs.”

“Yeah, that one. It reminds me of that. But damn, it’s a rough thing.”

“Yeah it is.”

“What was her name?”

“Apartment’s out to Anne-Marie Barrios; it looks like her.”

“How can you even tell, Charlie?”

“Point taken.”

“Any kids? Husband? Roommate?”

“No kids. Neighbor said she was a pretty quiet girl but emphasized that she brought guys by sometimes, probably for a good lay. Could be she brought one home, had some of those drinks, got in that little nightie to show him a good time and he went off and attacked her. You got a theory, Jim?”

“Maybe. But there’s still no weapon.”

“Nope, still no weapon. And the captain says this one’s going to Procyk and Torrington, so we got what we got until they get here.”

“They on their way?”

“I guess.”

“Great. Faster I can get out of this place, the better. So how was the weekend?”

“Eh, it was alright. Sat around, watched some tube, had some dinner. You know, the usual. How about you?”

“Went bowling.”

“Bowling, huh? How’d you do?”

“Shitty. Barely broke a hundred. Whatever, it was with my kids so I can say I let them win.”

“Bumpers?”

“I wish.”

“How’re the kids doing anyway?”

“They’re good. It’s almost little Jimmy’s birthday, and Dan’s actually started doing his homework on time, so, you know, they’re good.”

“Good, good. Jim, let me ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“They ever ask about what you do? Or, I mean, do you tell them some of the shit that goes down in this place? Like, just looking at this woman here, when they ask you how your day was, how could you possibly just say ‘good’ like that?”

“Good question.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I just shrug and say something like ‘I’m a cop, and I make sure the city is clean for you guys.’ Something like that. Hell, if I ever told them half the shit I’ve seen, they’d have nightmares for the rest of their lives.”

“Got that right.”

“Hey guys, what’s the scoop?”

“Oh, hey Procyk.”

“Charlie, Jim.”

“Torrington come with you, too?”

“Yeah, he’s right behind me, Jim. Who’s first officer? You, Charlie?”

“Yup. Woman’s name was Anne-Marie Barrios, twenty-four, single, lives in the apartment. The neighbor, a nice old woman named Maria Alexandros, found her at nine forty two when she came out of her place and noticed the door open. She was just like this she said. Her neck’s cut, and, as you can see, the… attacker, he carved her face off.”

“What about time of death?”

“Some time this morning, not too long ago. Judging by the rigor and the fact that she’s still a bit warm, the med said only about three or four hours ago, so around eight or a bit earlier.”

“Okay.”

“And over here’re two glasses but we haven’t checked for prints yet. Could be something. They’re screwdrivers, nothing special. We’ve got a bottle of vodka over here, but we can’t know if it’s doped yet. Oh, and we don’t have a weapon. All the steak knives are on the counter in the kitchen and none of the drawers look like they were opened at all. So that’s a dead end.”

“The neighbor didn’t see the perp, Charlie? Didn’t hear anything?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, tell me more about Anne-Marie.”

“Neighbor said she was quiet but liked to bring guys home every now and again. Typical woman, nothing too outstanding.”

“She likes to paint.”

“Oh, yeah. Just a hobby. We found a couple brushes, some prints, nothing too spectacular.”

“Not a day job, then. Where’d she work?”

“Oh, hey Torrington—the neighbor said she worked at a day care. We haven’t checked on it yet.”

“Alright, you mind giving them a call? What was its name?”

“You’ll never believe it, Procyk—Baby Watch.”

“Baby Watch? You’re serious?”

“I know, I almost chuckled when I heard it too.”

“Alright, Baby Watch it is. Give them a call, Charlie, see what you can find out about her. Who’s shooting this one? He here yet?”

“That’d be Joey, and no, not yet.”

“Good, guess it’ll be up to me. Watch out, Jim.”

“By all means, Procyk, go ahead.”

“You know, I’ve asked you guys a dozen times to call me Tony.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, just habit.”

“No problem, Jim. Jesus. How’s it look, Pete?”

“Looks like he fucking carved her up like a Christmas turkey, Tony. How’d the neighbors not hear any screaming? She had to have been screaming or doing something… damn. Jim, you know if there’s any family in the area?”

“Still looking into it.”

“Hurry it up.”

“You got it, Tony.”

“Alright, Pete, other than that beautiful reference that’s sure as shit gonna make us lose our dinners, what do you think?”

“Well, she’s got that pretty little thing on, there’s a bottle of vodka open on the kitchen table, a couple glasses. Figure she brings the guy back, they fool around, have some drinks, maybe she says something to him he doesn’t like or something, he slits her throat, cuts her up like that, cleans up the place, and leaves.”

“That’s pretty much what we were just saying, too.”

“Could be, Pete, yeah. We’re gonna have to scour this place for prints, see if we can get a match on anyone. Make sure to check the fridge, too. We’ve still got to wait on Joey, though. Where the Hell is he anyway? He should be here by now.”

“Who knows? The kid’s probably stuck in traffic somewhere. Or, you know, maybe he’s taking a picture of some chick he’s trying to impress.”

“That kid sure is a trip.”

“Jim, enough with the chatter, you’ve got a job to do. And listen, Tony, why don’t you go ask the neighbor what happened and I’ll handle Joey and the prints and searching. You can start up on the canvas too when you’re done.”

“That works. You sure, Pete?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

“Alright, but be sure to keep these guys in check—”

“Bite me, Procyk.”

“—I’ll be back in a bit. Oh, hey Joey, we were just talking about you. Where’ve you been?”

“Traffic. What’s the… holy crap.”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s pretty bad.”

“Holy shit. Wow. Fuck. Torrington? You in the lead?”

“Yeah, me and Tony.”

“Joey, you treat my partner right. Make sure you come see me if you leave soon so I can get your impression and notes. Alright?”

“Okay, Tony. So, alright, Torrington, point me the way, man.”

“Sure—what do you got, Joey? Some kinda girl on the side or something….”

(Please come back later this week for the rest of Chapter Two!)

I’m keeping at it! And with some improvement, despite having to study for an exam (don’t worry, pretty sure I rocked it) and spending my Saturday winery-hopping. I’m not quite at the 1 hour a day mark I’d like, but its a large step up from the previous week.

Date	Writing	Drawing	Total
September 27, 2009	35	30	65
September 29, 2009	37		37
September 30, 2009	27		27
October 1, 2009	25		25
October 2, 2009	85		85
October 3, 2009	20		20
Week Total:			259