Ronnie & Donnie- Mammoth Cat

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Robot Man

A little ditty about a little robot, featuring a little doodle of the little robot from the little ditty.

Hunting Sea Monsters

An excerpt from my novel- "The Incident Concerning Howard's Shortwave Radio"


When little Adeline turned 10 years old, her father, Howard, had prepared a special day for her. It was a Thursday and he asked wife, Carol, if she could skip school for the day. She never liked the kids to be absent for even a single day of school, but she could tell that her husband was up to something. Howard's eyes were the deepest of brown, but when he was excited about something, they were positively black. Carol conceded and let Adeline have her special day with her pop.

The morning was kicked of with a drive into town for ice cream at Marvin’s Diner. Adeline had strawberry and Howard had Rocky Road. They walked down Evergreen Avenue licking their frozen treats.

Adeline squealed. “Daddy, can I go on that?” Pointing to a golden stallion with a fiberglass mane and a plastic lasso. “It’s only five cents! Pleeeeaase daddy?”

This was Adeline’s day.

“Ok, but finish your ice cream first.” Howard said as he chomped the last crunchy bite of the bottom of his cone.

“I don’t wannit anymore!” She handed the rest of her cone to her dad, who quickly chomped it down.

Howard wiped off the sticky ice cream from around Adeline’s mouth with a napkin and produced a nickel from his pocket. He plopped it into the slot in the stallion’s saddlebag and a tinny “Neigh! Neigh!” bellowed though the horse’s mouth. Adeline squealed again as Howard lowered her onto the galloping steed.

She grabbed the reigns and yelled “Gitty up Buckaroo! Gitty on up!”

Howard leaned down on one knee and watched his seven year old girl ride the fastest, most powerful, most beautiful stallion in all the world.

Of course, all good things must end. The horse slowly came to stop after a few minutes. Adeline was sweating a little from all the excitement. She had, after all, just barely escaped being scalped by a party of Lakota Indians.

“You wanna go again?” Howard asked.

After the second equestrian adventure, Howard and Adeline headed for home where Howard had another adventure planned. Earlier that year, Howard had read Adeline a condensed, sugary, kids-version of 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. She was never in her life more fascinated than she was with the idea of the Giant Squid. Adeline became enamored with the thought of sea creatures. She never really pondered the Sea until that book. It was always just right outside her door. It was like the sky to her. She was aware of it, but spent little time thinking about it. Howard decided he would take little Adeline out in the dingy to hunt for sea monsters in the calm waters of the inlet cove near their house.

When they arrived back home, Howard told Adeline to run into the boat shed that sat at the foot of the yard and grab a couple of life vests.

"We're gonna take the boat?" Adeline inquired. She had only been out in the dingy one other time so this was an occasion in and of itself. Before Howard could answer 'yes', Adeline jumped out of the pickup and ran full speed down the hill toward the boat shed.

Howard grabbed a backpack out the bed of the truck and headed down to the rocky beach. It was a picturesque Spring morning and the waters in the cove were unusually glassy. Adeline made a bugle sound, as if a king or queen were about to appear, and leaped off the short bluff that separated the yard and the edge of the beach.

Howard feigned fright. "Ahhh! You got me!"

"Surrender all your treasure me matey and I may let you live!" Adeline said in a heart-meltingly terrifying grunt. She picked up a small piece of driftwood and held it up to her father's belly. "All of it, I say!" She gently poked his belly with her newly acquired sword.

"I surrender! You are far more salty than I, sir"! Howard said with his hands in the air.

"I'm not a sir, daddy! I'm a lady of the sea!" Adeline said in a decidedly less playful tone.

"My humblest apologies m'lady!,” Howard pleaded. He cleared his throat. "Lady of the sea." He took a bow and fell on one knee. "I can only offer my loyalty and these precious stones from the Orient." Howard unsnapped the backpack and pulled out a small plastic fishnet bag. It was filled, to nearly bursting, with plastic jewelry.

"Oh!" Adeline said with intrigue. She mercifully lowered her sword and upon closer inspection of the booty, dropped the weapon altogether. "Oh, these will do nicely!"

By the time the two had wandered down to the boat dock, Adeline was wearing every piece of jewelry that was in the bag. She had to keep adjusting the bracelets to make them less irritating on her young baby-soft skin, but taking them off was simply not an option. "This one's my favorite!" Adeline said as she held out her ring-covered right hand.

"Which one?"

"This one!" Adeline said impatiently. "The blue one. It's my favorite ring ever."

Howard chuckled and lifted the Lady of the Sea into the small, rickety boat. Adeline never took her eyes off her new treasures. "Alright now, fun's over." Howard said sternly. Adeline looked up to see her father holding a small gun of some sort. "You know what this is?" He asked her.

"No." Adeline said as if she'd done something wrong and been caught.

Howard held it a little closer to her. "It's a harpoon gun."

Adeline's eyes widened. "Like in 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea?"

"Exactly. You know what this is for?" Howard asked, tapping the gun and maintaining his dour tone.

Adeline shook her head in a hurried fashion.

"Well, there's been some reports of a sea monster pokin' his big, green, ugly face around here." Howard explained while scanning the horizon of the water. "And it's our job today to find it and kill it. With this very harpoon gun."

Adeline's posture stiffened. She slowly turned to face the water. "Here?" She, wisely, whispered. She knew she dare not alert the monster of their coordinates.

"Right here." Howard whispered back. He handed her the wooden gun and some spare rubber band harpoons. "Now, here's the plan. I need you to lean over the edge of the boat and watch for him. He'll be dark green and looooong as a football field. Now, we may be lucky because everyone knows sea monsters like to sleep-in late. If we can catch that bugger before he wakes up, we can be home in time for Gilligan's Island."

"Yes! Let's kill him in his sleep!" Adeline shout-whispered. She took her brave post, leaning over the edge of the tiny vessel.

Howard untethered the boat cord and quietly picked up the oars. Ever so gently the wooden paddles broke the surface of the water, and the mighty hunters were sea faring. Adeline took her job very seriously. She had plenty of time to gaze upon her sparkly jewels after the hunt, but for now, the safety of the entire town was resting on her monster spotting abilities.

"Daddy, what's that?" Adeline whispered nervously.

Howard peaked over the side of the boat and softly replied, "That's the cable mooring for the dock. Keep lookin'."

She held her post. Howard steered the vessel further and further away from the shore. There was a curved rock wall that provided a natural barrier between the cove inlet and the open sea. Howard rowed the boat all the way to the shadowy waters near the wall. "Ok, if I was a sleepy sea monster I would tuck myself into a spot that was out of the sunlight. Wouldn't you?"

Adeline nodded. She understood all too well. She hunched lower toward the boat and reached for her gun. Without taking her eyes off the water she loaded a rubber band around the tip and stretched it behind the trigger. Howard slowly crept the boat along the rock wall. Adeline gazed, bravely, into the shadowy water. Howard reached into his backpack and discreetly pull out a small mirror. Adeline quietly squealed, "Eeeeeeh! Daddy! I see it! I see it!"

Howard leaned over and saw the beast laying on the bottom of the water. "Stay calm. That's him alright. Luckily he's still sleepin'. Quick, shoot him before his wakes up." Howard quietly lowered the mirror into the water behind his back.

Adeline took a steady aim on the head of the creature. She slowly pulled her thumb back toward the trigger.

Howard angled the mirror back and forth, silently, behind his back.

Suddenly Adeline screamed so loud that the seagulls resting along the rock wall shot up in cloud of feathers and honking chaos. "He's awake! Daddy the monster's awake!" She watched in horror as the beast's eyes glowed in the murky water.

"Shoot it, Adeline! Shoot it now!" Howard yelled , still holding the mirror underwater.

Adeline fired directly toward the creature's glowing eyes.

"Bulls eye!" Howard yelled, causing Adeline to jump a bit.

She peaked into the water and the eyes were once again black. "I got him! I killed him!"

Howard shoved the mirror into his back pack and began to row toward the shore, quickly."You sure did! We better get outta here in case he's got buddies around!"

Adeline put her arms into the water and helped row. "You think there's more? 'Cuz, I could always just shoot...oh no! No! Daddy my ring fell off!"

Howard kept on rowing. "You got handfuls of them, Adeline."

"But my favorite one fell off! My blue, sparkly one!" Adeline pleaded.

"Well I'm sure we can find you another blue sparkly one." Howard assured her as he continued to row them away from monster-infested waters.




This was the daddy that Adeline would choose to remember. The playful, kindhearted and attentive daddy.

She would dismiss the memories of her daddy locked up in his radio room for days on end. She would set aside the years of him drinking too much and saying hurtful things. She would forget the man that once brought home another lady into their house while the rest of the family was at the carnival.

This was her daddy. And from the right angles, if you blocked out certain parts of the view, it was just perfect.

It wasn't until years later that Carol finally told Adeline about the log Howard placed against the rock wall the day before Adeline's birthday. About the two metal bottle caps he nailed to the head of the "beast", and about the mirror he used to reflect the sunlight onto bottle caps causing them to glow to life. On some levels, Howard never truly forgave Carol for telling Adeline his secret.

The rest of Adeline's birthday was spent at the petting zoo, just off the highway near Raymond. When Carol came home from school with the other kids, Adeline ran to greet her at the door. "Mommy! Guess what daddy and I did today!"

Carol set her purse on the counter and kneeled down to Adeline's level. "What did you do, Adeline?"

"We went hunting for sea monsters!" Adeline replied, in a voice loud enough for her siblings, still on the porch, to hear.

"Oh my goodness!" Carol said, as she flashed a loving look toward Howard. "Well, what happened?" Carol asked her overly-excited daughter.

Adeline held out her right hand. "I lost my favorite ring."

The Spacemen

Filby lifted the access panel and pulled out the feedline for the new sensor unit on the International Space Station. He stripped back the sheathing from the wire and snapped it into a small junction box. The sensor light blinked, indicating a successful connection. He gently tucked the wire back into its cubby and replaced the panel door.

Marcell lowered himself out of the utility capsule and slowly towed himself along the sensor arm toward Filby.

"Looks good." Marcell said, tapping the newly installed sensor unit.

"Yeah, well that's the last one. Let's head in and set up the software."

"Sounds good"

Marcell began to pull himself toward the capsule door, but stopped just shy of it.

"Hey, Filby? Are we spacemen?" Marcell asked, staring off into the celestial void.

"Well.....we are men. And we are in space. But....I don't know if we could accurately be called spacemen."

"Why not?"

"I guess when I think of spacemen....I think of men from space. Not just men in space. We are from Earth. We are Earthmen."

Marcell continued toward the door but stopped again.

"I don't like that. I mean, look at us. We are wearing spacesuits and we have bubble helmets on our heads. Think about when we were kids. If you saw a toy that looked like we do right now, when you were a kid, what would you think it was?"

Filby rubbed the bottom of his bubble helmet.

"Hmmm. I guess I would think it was a spaceman."

"Right?"

"But....I would also assume that it was from outer space. Or from the future. Or both."

Marcell sighed heavily into his bubble.

"But when we were kids, now was the future. This is the past's future. And in a few days, we will be coming to Earth from space."

"Well, I guess maybe you are right. Maybe we are spacemen."

Macell smiled and pulled himself into the capsule. He reached down and grabbed the toolbag from Filby and set it inside. Filby climbed into the capsule and latched the door.

Marcell lifted the toolbag into a vinyl pouch and stared out the tiny window of the station. Earth was perfectly framed within the contours of the space porthole. He watched the swirling clouds slowly shifting along the bends of the giant sphere. In the clear spots, the deepest, most magnificent shades of blue pierced the black curtain of space. The sun was rising from behind, sending brilliant shafts of golden light across the edge of the planet.

"You know..." Marcell said

"...I changed my mind. You were right. We are from Earth. We are Earthmen."

Whiskey James

This is by far the most popular song I've written. It's a simple, catchy little ditty that I wote in the mid-90s and I have recorded several versions of it. This one is the best, though. I just got lucky with the production of it because it seems to fit the content perfectly. Dry and dull with just the right touch of reverb.

The song was inspired by a true encounter I had with a legendary hobo in Seattle. In the early 90s I was spending a lot of my time wandering through the slums of the Emerald City with my band mates, Steve and John. At the time, we were in way over our heads with the shit we were putting into our bodies, but we were young idiots trying to be hip and interesting. What better reason to take drugs, though?

There was a large area of trees underneath the freeway, known as "the jungle", that was a hot spot for local homeless people, junkies, prostitutes and other assorted weirdos. Naturally, the three of us found endless hours of entertainment mingling with these people in the trees. We even slept there in our sleeping bags quite often. Although, it almost cost us our lives more than a few times.

One night, after playing an unsatisfying show at some puke and piss dive bar near Shoreline, we had found our way back downtown to score some "interestingness". We were not having much luck so we joined a hobo campfire under the trees and slyly helped ourselves to their warm Buckhorn beer. One of the hobos had a little Pocket Pal harmonica and was treating us to some old delta-blues standards. He was amazing. Steve told the man that he should join our band. He was only half-kidding. We asked everyone we met to join our band. It was a stupid inside joke.

Days later I was killing time in a record shop in the U-district and I saw the harmonica wizard walk by the storefront window. I walked out and called for him. He didn't recognize me but I offered him a cig. He accepted and we sat on the moldy, damp Seattle sidewalk and smoked in silence.

When the hobo crushed out his cigarette, he flicked it at a passing car and stood up.

"You wanna have some drink?" He asked, pulling out a crusty old flask.

He led me to a tiny little area under an I-5 overpass that had clearly been used as a makeshift home/toilet. Probably by many people. It smelled unbelievably awful, but there was a log under a tree. What more could you ask for? We passed the filthy whiskey flask back and forth and chain-smoked for hours. He told me his name was Whiskey James. A moniker he won back in the war, as he would put it. I felt honored to know somebody named Whiskey anything.

I won't ramble on and on, but I will say that we became good pals. I would meet up with him every time I was in town and we would find some wooded area to get drunk and talk about his crazy hobo life. Occasionally, we were interrupted by crack-whores who needed to use our space to give someone a handjob, but we usually managed to find a spot where we wouldn't be bothered.

Just a few weeks after we had met, I was informed by some of the locals that Whiskey James was gravely ill. He was clearly not the picture of health, but I was still shocked when I found out he was actually dying. I managed to get in to see him on his, utterly-depressing, hospice deathbed. He was white as a sheet but he lit up when he saw me. At least I tell myself he did. I sat and shared a cig with him (well, a few drags-worth before Nurse Nocompassion made a stink). I'm pretty sure she wasn't even a real nurse. Anyway, I had a gig to make it to that evening and I couldn't stay with him any longer. I left him there to die in that awful, dreary place.

I never went back to the hospice to check on him, but I later found out that he died that very night I saw him. For some reason that sort of made me happy. I even hoped I was the last face he saw. That he cared about, anyway.

By the end of the summer of '92, my band had totally disintegrated and we all parted ways. I took a greyhound back to Wenatchee and resumed my sorry attempt at High School. John later got arrested for breaking into a jewelry store. Steve was also later imprisoned for shooting his girlfriend in the head. Long story. It too, shall be told.

Needless to say, this song is deeply meaningful to me, and I love that people love it.

It still pains me when I hear/sing the last verse...."I carried him through the woods, way out of sight. And buried him under the pale moonlight."

I wish it really had ended so beautifully.

Swans Have Flown

I often get asked what I think is my best song. I always answer with this little shanty/ballad. I realize I am in the minority in thinking so. The next post will be the song that everyone else (practically) thinks is my best song, and the story behind it.

The first part of the song is a capella. I actually had planned on doing an entire album free of any instruments, using only vocals or body-made noises (insert childish giggle here) but the same time I was working on the album, Tom Waits had just released "Real Gone". While there are sampled instruments (his own), it is created mostly with just mouth noises. I quickly gave up the idea, but I always loved this little bastard all the same.

The lyrics were inspired by a drunken conversation I had with my pal Danny. We thought it would be pretty awesome to make a film about a pack of swans that eat some moldy bread at the park and go bat-shit insane and declare war on humans. The words are sort of like random quotes that I imagine scared and confused people might say when the swans claim their "no-more-fuckin'-around" stance, followed a calming ballad by the refugees of the great Swan War. I still think that film would be pretty awesome.

Sheep 2

Sheep Experimentation #1

HAUNT

I’m sorry you can’t ascend.

I wish I could help you. Ghosts must be the saddest
souls. Trapped. Neither here nor there.
Not loved. Not really hated.
I don’t pretend to understand your misery.
And if I could do ANYTHING to free you from
this house I would. But I can’t. You are not mine
to set free. You were here when I arrived.
You will be here when I depart.

Trapped.

You are a legend. Even the
trees know your name. You played on them as
a child. Some of them are mere dead stumps in
the yard now. But they know you. As do I.
I’m not frightened of you. I understand
you. I’m not frightened. I love you.

I will always love you. I will stay in this old house
until my body dies. I swear I will come for you then.
I will be with you. I will haunt with you. For eternity.

To Kill A Nagging Wife

Ben had had it. He was at the end of his rope. For four years, he had tolerated the constant nit-picking. The non-stop verbal vomiting that spewed from the ever-open mouth of his wife, Andrea, had led him to not only ponder the thought of murder, but to actually act on the impulse.

It was a simple plan, really. He would cut her head off with a machete, bury the remains in the backyard and pave a BBQ patio over the makeshift grave. He thought about other methods. Poisoning. Strangulation. Gunshot to the brain. Smothering her in her sleep. These would suffice, but he thoroughly enjoyed the thought of that miserable, negative mouth being permanently separated from the cruel brain that powered it.

And so, decapitation it would be.

Andrea returned home at 6:30 pm following her usual "no boys allowed" after-work happy hour ritual. Ben had gone about his business of doing the dishes, cleaning the cat box and making supper.

"This turkey is salty. What is it with you and salty food?" The beast said, shoveling more salty bird into her gullet. "Jenni's husband is a wonderful cook. Lucky her. I had to go and marry Chef Boy Tardee."

Ben had given up defending himself long ago. Tonight, however, he was particularly quiet amidst the verbal assault. He was peaceful and still.

After Andrea had finished off every last ounce of the turkey, she refilled her martini glass with straight bottom-shelf gin and flopped down onto the couch. She flipped through the channels on the TV. "Hey, look. Your stupid Discovery channel show is on. Too bad." She directly entered three digits into the jumbo-sized remote and settled in for her favorite Hollywood gossip show.

Ben decided now was the time. After all, it's better to die while you are doing something you enjoy. Everyone says so.

He quietly grabbed the freshly-sharpened machete from the closet in the hall. He hid it there before the beast came home. His heart began to pound. He felt dizzy but not weak. In fact he hadn't felt this strong in years. As he inched toward his, soon-to-be-late-wife he bore his fingers into the handle so deeply that it burned. He stood directly behind her.

"I don't suppose you remembered to pay for the......."

SLICE

There was an unpleasant squeak from the open throat. Which came as no surprise to Ben. Nothing pleasant ever came out of that throat. The amount of blood was staggering. It sprayed from the meaty hole, where Andrea's head used to be, like a water feature at a ritzy Las Vegas hotel. Slowly the fountain recessed back into the meaty hole.



Ben dropped the machete.



"Well, dear.....I can't say that I will miss you....but-"



"I....my.....my head......" Andrea's severed head muttered through a watery, blood-filled gurgle.



Ben's heart stopped cold. His wife's head was 6 feet away from the body it once belonged to. It really should not be talking.



"oh.......my fucking head!" Andrea's head yelled. "You cut off my head?"



Ben felt his knees give out under him and down he went. Andreas's body slumped off of the couch and onto the floor. Her head swiveled around, like some nightmarish weeble-wobble, to face her husband.



"How fucking dare you?! You had no right to do that! You pathetic little boy! So what? You thought you'd just kill me and that would be that? Ha!"



"....you are dead.....you should be quiet." Ben whispered in disbelief.



"Dead? Ha! Do I look fucking dead to you? You pathetic piece of shit! You can't kill a harmless woman in cold blood? You imbecile!"



"You should be quiet!" Ben shouted. He crawled over to Andrea's head and pulled it up by the hair.



"Oww! That hurts, you retard! Put me back on my body right now!"



Ben ran, with the dripping head, into the kitchen. He frantically threw open the cupboards looking for the Glad bags. Finally he found them.



"Oh....oh don't you fucking dare!" The nagging, dripping head squawked.



Ben dropped the head into the black bag and tied it up tightly. He ran to the backyard, grabbed a spade and dug the hell out of a head-sized grave. He could hear his wife mumbling something or other through the bag. Finally, he felt the hole was deep enough to toss the bag into. Once the head was securely interred, Ben ran into house for the body.



Exhausted, Ben patted down the last bumps of dirt over the grave of his beloved wife. He exhaled deeply and began to laugh.



He was too tired to mop up the blood in the living room, so he left it until morning.



The sunrise of the following day felt sweet and new upon Ben's face. He lay in bed for a while marveling at the brilliant feeling of freedom that was sweeping over him. His bliss was soon interrupted by a mesh of voices coming from the backyard. Three, maybe four females were talking just outside his bedroom window. He panicked. Did the neighbors see? It was possible. He surely wasn't overly cautious about the whole affair. He dashed out of bed, draped his bathrobe over himself and headed to the backyard.



He slowly opened the backdoor and peeked out toward the voices. There was nobody there. But the voices grew louder and louder. He walked out into blaring morning sun. His eyes adjusted slowly. He inspected the grave. To his bewilderment, it was covered with daisies. Last night, it was a bed of dirt, and now it looked like a prize winning garden. He approached the flowers with caution. Suddenly, the voices stopped. The flowers all turned to face Ben. Every single daisy bore the likeness of Andrea's face.

Ben swallowed loudly. He couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible.

All at once, the Andrea daisies started nagging. "You miserable little shit!" "You will never be rid of me!" "You are worthless!" "...my life was not..." "....son of a bitch..." "...see you hang for this..." "...can't do anything right!"

The voices grew louder and louder. Ben ran to the shed and returned with a pair of loppers. He maniacally lopped off the head of ever last nagging daisy, until finally they were silenced. But not for long. The lopped off daisies continued to nag and belittle Ben. They floated atop the grass blades and continued to torment the poor murderer.

Ben ran to the garage and returned with a gas can and some matches.

"You should really be quiet!" He yelled through gritted teeth as he dumped gasoline over the nagging clippings.

He flicked a match onto the decapitated daisies and quickly they were charred into ashes. The ashes floated up into the air and Ben breathed them in. He choked on the smoke and headed back inside.

The voices continued. Now he could feel them resonating throughout his entire body. Echoing off of every bend of his skull. The microscopic naggers were coursing through his veins. He screamed in agony, but he could not hear it over the deafening voices. He ran to the bedroom and pulled out a small safe from under the bed. He dialed the combination, swung open the metal door and pulled out a small caliber handgun. He loaded the gun, laid on the bed and wept over his condition.

He could see no other escape. He said a quick, generic prayer and lifted the gun to his tear drenched face.

He felt a tremendous pinch as the bullet entered the right side of his brain. "I got you now."

He fired a second shot.

The voices stopped.