Fun with words and words for fun

Monthly Archives: January 2018

broken governmentSo I was shoveling snow today. We had a little bitty storm overnight, maybe about two or three inches total. In its infinite lack of wisdom and common sense, the school did not have a delay, so I had to clear a path down our long, hilly driveway to walk my daughter to the school bus. It was just a little snow.  This was quick and easy. But it was still snowing, so what I cleared was quickly covered over again.

About 11:30, the snowfall having stopped,  I went out to shovel. It’s a  good two hour job for a small amount of snow, and while I could have used the snow blower, I chose to shovel and substitute the activity for my workout. Mostly the weather was already pretty nice, not too cold, not too windy. As I worked, I started thinking.

First, I wondered how many of those Hollywood celebrities, you know, the ones who don’t want to be referred to as the Hollywood elites and want to be thought of and referred to as normal people, how many of them have to shovel their snow or clear their driveway so they can get their car out. I’d bet none of them, except maybe for fun with their kids. I’d bet most of them think it’s beneath them to do such things, and I’d bet most of them pity the poor little people like me and the real regular people we the 99.5 percent of the population are for having to do such menial tasks. Of course that would be if they thought about it at all, thought about us at all. Privilege like theirs kind of makes them forget the everyday things, especially when they’re always done for them by someone they’ve hired who’s hired people to do them.

I know. I’m sure there are some exceptions. But I’d bet the great majority of them don’t do their own housework, their own gardening, never wash or wax a car so it lasts longer. I’d bet most of them don’t clean their own bathrooms or walk their own dogs. And I’d also bet most of them don’t have to do their own child care. I’d bed most of them have nannies to do that.

I know! They do do things. They make albums (CDs nowadays) and make millions of dollars. They make movies (which very often belie the values they claim to support) to make many millions of dollars. And they give to charity. But for many of them even their giving to charity is not like for us regular people. We write a check and money comes out of our accounts. They give their time, worth big money, and then they deduct that “payment” on their taxes.

And so it goes.

Then I got to thinking. I could use a new snow blower and a new lawnmower, maybe even a small riding one, to make the work I have to do besides working to pay taxes to support the rich lawmakers more than half of whom are millionaires easier. I was thinking about Nancy, you know, Pelosi, worth more than 120 million dollars. I was thinking about that crumb, the thousand dollars ($1000.00), which since I’m retired I won’t get. That thousand dollars would buy the snow blower and the lawnmower, or make the bulk payment on the riding mower. Hell, I thought, it would pay for all plowing of the snow for the year and the Fall clean up of the leaves too. Gee that would be nice. It would give me time to earn more money to pay more taxes to support her fat ass.

Someone ought to tell Nancy and all her people that that money is not a crumb. Most of us could use it and many, many of us really need it. Someone ought to tell Nancy that if she and her people got together with the rest of the government and started actually considering the needs of the American people again, maybe the Congressional approval rating could climb out of the low teens. But then, of course, that would assume she really cared about any of this stuff or any of us people.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.

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Ten minutes was more like twenty-five and Mary didn’t really sleep but she rested. Bill and Henry Lee went about their work trying their best not to disturb her, so Bill stayed only a few moments before he went up to check on what Mary had left working. He found Bea sorting her washed lettuce and beginning to set up the first salads.

He went immediately to Mary’s prep area and checked the stove tops. The big pot of au jus was just coming to a boil. The soup Mary had started was also coming to a boil so Bill lowered the heat and gave it a good stirring. Then he checked all the ovens, making sure everything inside was okay and moving along as it should.

“I want me some,” Bea said. “Don’t forget.”

“You won’t let me, I’m sure.”

She came around from her station and looked into the pots on the stove. “Where’s Mary?”

“In the meat room.”

“What’s she doing?”

“Resting. We were up all night.”

“Damn, boy. You have fun?”

“We had a nice time.”

“That’s good for her. She needs it.”

“What should I say?”

“Ain’t nothing to be said.” Bea smiled at Bill somewhat uncharacteristically. “I’m happy for her, even if it can’t be forever.”

“What about you?”

“What about me? I got mine at home. You just some fun at work, like I am for you. I get a itch, you scratch it. I know I’m teaching you things be good for you in your marriage.”

“Not shy about this stuff are you?”

“Boy, when you been married long as I have and you get a certain age, ain’t too much to be shy about. I ain’t like them little waitresses, maybe not Lorraine. The others, they get all pretty and they want a hot time with a little bit of theater, like they see it in the movies. They make their lips all red and they wear that fancy underwear and the stilettos just so you could take it off them. I ain’t knocking it. Been there when I was a kid. Well, sort of. Now, I know what I want and I know how to get it. You give me what I want, I give you what you want. You don’t like that, don’t waste my time.”

“Well that’s a good speech, Miss Bea.”

“Thank you, boy. When we go downstairs I’ll tell you what I want.”

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” Bill said.

Bea watched as Bill gave everything another stirring then she walked back to her station. She continued setting up salads for the service. She didn’t need anything from downstairs, but after Bill went down and Mary came up, she went down anyway. She popped her head into the meat room to find Bill and asked if he could help her with something. Bill wasn’t really into it, but he went off after her.

“Duty calls, huh?” Henry Lee looked at Bill.

“What should I say”

“Ain’t got to say nothing. Go do your duty.”

Bill took a long drink of bourbon first. He wanted to get high again, but Bea was waiting. He stopped in the men’s room before he met her in the storeroom.

She was sitting on a stack of stewed tomatoes cases. Bill shut the door behind him and walked up to her. They didn’t kiss. They rarely kissed, although sometimes they did. They didn’t speak. Bill went to reach up her dress, but she stopped him.

“Mary’s sweet on you, isn’t she?”

“You have to ask her.”

“I’m asking you.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say what you think.”

“I don’t think anything.”

“Sure you do,” Bea said.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.


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They went to work without fanfare. Bill brought up the round, helped Mary set it up in the roasting pan and slide it into the oven. That done, they took an inventory of what they needed to make, what needed replenishing, what had to be brought up from downstairs and what they needed to do for tomorrow.

Bea was quiet over at her station. She did her inventory then sat on her stool to smoke a cigarette and drink her coffee. Mary and Bill joined her for coffee when they were ready. Bill smoked a cigarette too and read the racing page over her shoulder. He could see she hadn’t closed all the buttons of her dress and he caught a good look at her deep cleavage.

“You got a lot of work?” she asked Mary.

“Usual.”

“Well we got enough puddings. I don’t need nothing from you.”

“Good, cause I’m tired.”

“Getting a good look at my tits?” she asked Bill.

“Can’t see inside the bra,” Bill said.

Quite matter of factly, Bea reached up with one hand and pulled at her bra, moving it away from one of her breasts so the tip was exposed. “That better?” she asked.

Bill reached down with one hand and copped a feel of her. As he did so, Mary smacked him gently upside the head.

“Jealous?” he asked.

“What if Tommy comes in?”

“So what?”

“How was The Upper Room?” Bea asked.

“We didn’t get no sleep,” said Mary.

“Boy here do a good job?”  Bea rested the paper on her lap and used both her hands to straighten herself up. Then she went back to the racing page as if nothing happened.

“He was okay,” Mary commented. “Gonna give him another chance to see if he gets it perfect.”

“I can give him some practice later.”

“Bet you can.”

“Surely will if it’s okay with you.”

“Why should I care?”

Bea chuckled her throaty laugh. “Good, cause I love them little white boys.”  She closed the paper and stood up. Then she reached up her dress and scratched the back of her thigh just below her butt.

“Need some help?” Bill asked.

Bea laughed again and turned her butt to him. He reached a hand up there inside her underwear and scratched her buttocks. She danced some, saying, “there, to the left, oh yeah, there.”

Mary made a clucking sound, rolled her eyes and went back to her prep area. Bill took a long, intimate feel of Bea before removing his hand. Bea laughed even more, telling him he’d just primed the pump.

That’s when the sound of the door opening startled them. Trying to look casual, Bill took up his coffee cup and sipped at it. Bea started rinsing out her sink. Tommy came in, drew himself a coffee and went back out. Whatever he’d seen, he just let it go.

Henry Lee came in at nine. He was early and they didn’t have much work, but he brought a fresh quart of bourbon. He checked in with Bea, bet his horses, played his numbers. He sat on her stool and drank coffee while Bea stood washing lettuce. Then he went around and spoke with Mary before heading downstairs.

Bill met him downstairs and they got high in the deep freeze. Mary came down for some too, but they were done so she went in alone. Then she sat on the counter as she always did, crossed her feet at the ankles and swung them to and fro. While she sat she gave a big yawn. She leaned back but was not comfortable, so she lay down on her side.

“Anything need checking on upstairs?” Bill asked.

“Everything’s good. Got more uppers?”

Bill laughed. He and Mary both popped a pill and washed it down with bourbon.

“Ten minutes,” Mary said. “Let me sleep for ten minutes.”

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.


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They left the upper at five in the morning, so all told they’d had a solid four hours. It was a good four hours. Mary was messed up by the substances but she was so relaxed that she lost her inhibitions. This pleased Bill no end because he was free to do to her not only what she told him to but whatever he wanted to add on as well.

Somewhere around three AM they found their way into the bed.

“You know we ain’t gonna sleep,” Mary had said.

“No, we probably won’t,” Bill said. “ It’s all right cause I got uppers to get us through the day.”

“More drugs.”

“Why? Don’t you feel good?”

“I feel okay. Just a little scared.”

“I always feel scared, or at least jittery.”

“Me too, mostly,” said Mary. “I always been feeling that way, leastwise since I been alone, and that’s a long time now.”

“I’ve felt that way since my mother died,” said Bill, “and it’s gotten much worse since I got busted.”

Mary took him in her arms and held him tight. This started him off again, and her too, and something happened neither one of them had expected but which was beyond either of their expectations. Bill kissed her differently than ever before. He started with a soft kiss on the lips, then several more soft kisses around her lips, especially in the corners of her mouth. She kissed back, deep kisses, emotional kisses, long, passionate kisses, moaning all the while with pleasure.

They were tucked in under the electric blanket, naked, tight in each other’s arms. They made love, soft, sweet, creamy love, something deeper than either of them anticipated or maybe wanted. Mary moaned in his ear, and for his part, Bill lost himself in her. He wasn’t lost in sexual heat; he was lost in her.

In the shower they washed each other and played happily. Then they dried each other and went back under the electric blanket.

 

“Goddamn it’s cold,” Mary said as they got into Bill’s car.

“Shit yeah,” Bill said. He had given her a Black Beauty and taken two for himself. He’d told her if she needed another one to let him know.

They stopped at Mary’s house first so Mary could peek in on her kids. She found them all asleep and left a note on the table that she’d be at work. Back in the car, she reached over and kissed Bill on the lips. The heater was blasting and it was toasty warm.

“I hate you,” she said.

“I hate you too.”

“I didn’t want to feel nothing for you. But you couldn’t leave me alone, could you?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“You got a goddamn fiancé.”

“I do. And I’m gonna marry her. But that don’t mean I can’t…” Bill held himself back from what almost slipped out of his lips.

“Goddamn you. Just goddamn you.”

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.


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In her boots, after she took off her coat, Mary made the bed. Not that she knew it needed it, but she flipped the mattress too. She put her sheets and pillow cases on and made the bed look nice with the electric blanket on top.

Bill took a long, hot shower. While he lingered in the hot water, Mary came into the bathroom. She sat herself on the closed toilet and didn’t say anything until Bill asked if she were there. When she said yes, he asked if she wanted to join him.

“I would, but I just had a shower before you came for me. Later, baby.”

Bill peeked out from behind the shower curtain. “Know what I forgot?”

“What?”

“Beer.”

“We got the bourbon. And the weed mellow me out.”

“Wait till you pop a couple of Quaaludes. You gonna purr like a kitten.”

“I ain’t never done them.”

“There’s always a first time. Trust me, you’re gonna like them.”

“What they gonna do?”

“They gonna make you relax, make your body relax and make you feel at peace.”

“Told you, I’m already purring.”

“Well, you’ll purr more.”

Bill shut off the water and opened the shower curtain. Mary stood and looked at him in his nakedness, then she threw him a towel she had brought and left on the counter. She watched Bill dry off and wrap the towel around him.

“It’s cold in here,” he said.

“We could get into bed.”

“Naw. I want to sit in the living room and get high.”

“Meet you there.”

Bill dressed in his street clothes. They were clean since he had worn the uniform all day. What he didn’t do was put on his underwear. He did put on his socks since it was chilly in the apartment.

Mary had brought paper cups with her and had poured bourbon for them both. She was sitting on the sofa, her mules on her feet now. Bill stopped to look at her before he sat down, was enthralled by how beautiful she seemed to him. She was more woman, he thought, than any woman he’d ever had. Only Lorraine ran a close second and he guessed that was because of her age and her style.

“What?” Mary asked, seeing him staring at her.

“I like,” he said. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you been thinking about what you want.”

“It’s all I can think about.”

“Good.”

Bill rolled three joints, thick ones, not pin joints. Then he lit one, puffed it and passed it to Mary. When they’d smoked it down, he pulled a roach clip from his pants pocket and they did the roach too. Only then did Bill take a good drink of his cup of bourbon. Mary did the same, but before she could finish what was in her cup, he handed her two Quaaludes. She swallowed them with the rest of the bourbon. Bill did the same then refilled their cups.

“Now, baby, talk to me,” Bill said. He got on his knees before her and gently helped her spread her legs open. Then he sat back on his heels and looked at her, looked up her legs, rubbed from her calves up her legs to the tops of her thighs where the nylons ended and bare thighs began.

Mary leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. “I could use some more bourbon,” she said.

“Go easy for a few minutes,” Bill said. “Let the Quaaludes kick in.”

“You like what you see?”

“You’ll never know how much.”

“Really?”

“Why should I lie? I already got you here.”

“That you do, and against my better judgment too.”

Bill gently kneaded the bare flesh at the top of her thighs with each of his hands, careful not to touch anything other than that flesh.

“Just one thing,” he said. “No embarrassment. No shyness. No limits other than not hurting each other, none. No matter what we do, long as we agree on it, it’s okay.”

Mary smiled at him dreamily. The Quaaludes were taking effect.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.


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Mary wore purple to the upper room, purple dress, short and slit on the bottom, low-cut and revealing on the top. She wore lacy underwear, see-through, and a matching bra. Over that, she wore the matching garter belt and stockings designed for and sold with the outfit. To complete the look, she wore high heels, also purple, and open-toe mules even though it was winter. She carried the shoes and wore winter boots for the street.

Bill did not see what she actually looked like until they got there because it was dark when he picked her up. She was watching from her doorway and ran quickly to the car bundled in her coat and a wool hat that covered her ears. The car was dark inside so best he could do was smell her, sweet lilacs, and taste her when his lips clung to her lipstick on the hello kiss.

“I got everything we need,” she said as he drove.”Towels and sheets and a good electric blanket. And of course the bourbon.”

“I got plenty of weed and Quaaludes,” Bill said, “and uppers for the morning. I could use a shower to wash off the funk.”

“So take a shower while I fix the bed.”

“I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you were going to.”

“I wasn’t gonna. But damn if I’d waste the opportunity. I want me some good loving.”

“You got to tell me exactly what you want.”

“Why? You know what I want. You know what I like.”

“I want you to tell me. I want you to direct me, step by step.”

Mary looked at Bill as he drove. She was quiet now, maybe sulking, Bill thought. But then he thought maybe she was thinking about what to tell him to do. That thought in mind, he started thinking about what he would tell her to do. It wasn’t a bad thought. Then he thought about yesterday when he’d returned to work from having taken the split shift.

They’d had a terrible quarrel. Mary was totally pissed that he’d gone with Lorraine. She’d watched him from the back door, steaming.

“The hell with you,” she’d said first thing when he came into the kitchen, even before he’d tied his apron.

“What’s up?” he’d asked.

“You know what’s up, you sleaze.”

“Actually I don’t.”

“The hell with you.” She’d stared him down. “I ought to slap the shit out of you.”

“Don’t know what I did, but if it makes you feel better, go ahead.”

“What you mean you don’t know?”

Bill had started putting the baked potatoes into a steam table pan. “Her kids are home on school break.”

“What you saying?”

“I’m saying I took a nap on her sofa. She slept in her bed. Her kids did what they did in their rooms. Then I got up and came back here.”

Mary did not apologize but she’d turned softer when Bill told her he was taking her to The Upper Room. She’d even given him a goodbye kiss when she left for the day.

Now she sat quietly. Bill could not imagine what was going through her mind, but he reached for her hand and held it in his, stroked her skin with his thumb. The Upper Room was not too far from her house and they were almost there.

Mary turned to look out the window, then looked back at him. “Whatever I tell you to do you’ll do?” she asked.

“Whatever,” Bill said.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.


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Christmas break was all too brief. He was not able to convince his fiancé to wait until the morning to leave, so they packed up the two cats and their one little carry bag and headed off up Interstate 71 North.

The arrival was as Bill had anticipated except her mother woke up and came down to greet them when the dog barked. The dog, a big German Sheppard, jumped on Bill and insisted on being kissed and petted. The dog finally settled to sleep where Bill was.

Bill ended up spending a lot of time sleeping. Being on the go all the time, working six days every week and many times seven, every day early morning until late at night, supplementing his lack-of-sleep energy with Black Beauties, Bill had gotten used to the  mantra of no rest for wicked. With time to rest now and his fiancé not allowed near him in bed, he slept.

Back at work, he found that the time between Christmas and New Years was pretty dead. Mary and Bea were ever the same. They hooked up in the parking lot like always and opened up with Tommy. They went down to change, Bea a bit more frisky than usual, Mary a bit more withdrawn. Out in the hall, all set for the lunch and waiting for the first orders to come in, Bea spread her legs wide and reached her hand up there to tease Bill. Bill ran his tongue around his lips suggestively  and Bea met his gesture by pushing her panties to the side and more.

They might have gone downstairs and finished the business if they hadn’t heard the sizzle sound they both knew was Henry Lee greasing the grills and cooking off some hamburgers and bleus. Then there was an order, a waitress calling it out after Henry Lee asked her what she had.

Bill discovered that Mr. Jim was retiring for good right after the turn of the new year. He had taken the week off because it was slow, because he’d reached his maximum earnings for the year while on Social Security. Mr. Bowman had offered him a completely cash deal, and he’d kind of wanted it, but his wife wanted to move south, away from the bitter winters. Mr. Jim knew he could easily find a new gig anywhere he was.

After the lunch there wasn’t much to do. Henry Lee was all caught up with the meat cutting. Mary didn’t have anything to cook. They had enough of everything breaded. Bill punched out and was gonna head home for a nap until Lorraine, who was doing a double and splitting shifts like he was, asked if he wanted to go by her house. It was much closer than where he lived, so he said yes and he followed her in his car as she led the way.

He crashed on her living room sofa. Both Lorraine’s daughters were home on school break. Bill was kind of thankful. Lorraine gave him a fresh towel and he took a hot shower. Then, back in his uniform, he lay down and was asleep almost instantaneously. Lorraine followed suit, took a shower, slept in her own bed.

Since he didn’t have far to travel, he slept until almost five. It was already dark when he got up. He wouldn’t have gotten up if Lorraine hadn’t awakened him. Seeing the time, he pulled on his shoes and after telling the kids he was pleased to have met them and thanking Lorraine for letting him crash, he went on back to work. Lorraine was closing and wasn’t due back until six.

Mary was pissed and Bill could see it in her face right off. She made no bones about letting it out in her attitude either. On one level it was kind of funny. On another, it was kind of flattering.

“Couldn’t even go one day,” she said crossly.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss.