140Story - Day 61

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
       Sorry this installment is late, I've been busy. 

poured me my first two fingers of Scotch.  A good bartender knew when to shut up, and Scully was a hundred different kinds of good.
    I drained another one dry and set it carefully on the bar.  In my other hand I held the thumb drive Kelly had slipped me, turning it over and over.  It was a talisman, holding secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
    I couldn’t go back to my place, Telrik had it wired like a switchboard, and since it had been dark for a while I was pretty sure the public library was closed
    “Hey Scully,” I called out, my slurred words surprising me.  I was pretty hammered after all.  “You got a computer around here?”

I blinked, and tried to focus on the screen.  Scully kept his computer in his office, as dark

Small Business Advice

Don't mode shift your communications.

What's 'mode shifting?'  That's when someone contacts you via one method, and you reply via a different method.  For instance, if I leave you a voice mail message, you should call me back.  Don't shift the mode to e-mail.  Or, God forbid, a text.  Mode shifting is an unprofessional - as well as infuriating - violation of expectations.
   There is one acceptable way to mode-shift, and that is by mutual agreement.  We've all had elevator conversations that have the potential to turn into real work.  It's perfectly acceptable to say to the other person 'how about I e-mail you with all the details?'  If that person agrees, you're good to go with changing communication modes from speaking to e-mails.  Both sides know what to expect.

I would also say, generally speaking, voice mails and e-mails are the professional way to go for any agreements, as they leave a record of what the parties discussed.  Avoid texting, it's far too informal to conduct business with.
    Let me give you a real-world example of why you shouldn't try to conduct business via text.  I know a property manager who communicates via text almost exclusively.  In one instance he texted a property owner for details of how long to extend a lease to a tenant.  The owner came back with '6 mths.'  The property manager executed a lease extension for six months, starting the first of the next month.  As is proper and normal.  The owner assumed six months including the month she sent the text, which was only five months.  So when she wanted to move back in to her house, the tenant still had 31 days to go on the lease.  The owner had to make other living arrangements for a month, the property manager was out money, and there was headache and hassle for everyone but the tenant, who had a legal document giving him the right to stay for a month longer than the owner intended.  All that could have been avoided if the property manager and owner had actually talked, or even sent verification e-mails outlining what the terms of the extension were.  The take away?  Texting is for kids and lovers, not for business.

140Story - Day 60

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

I lost my edge.  Telrik was in my head now, making me doubt every decision.  It’s what they intended, of course, and I knew it.  But knowing didn’t make the doubt any less real.

I found my nerve at the bottom of a glass.  I sat in Scully’s, I didn’t know what time it was and I didn’t particularly care.  After I downed three shots within ten minutes of sitting down Scully had been rationing me.  I wasn’t cut off - not completely anyway - but Scully was keeping me from the kind of blackout drunk I thought I needed.
    He did his bartender chores a few feet away, leaving me to my silence.  When I walked through his door hours and hours ago he hadn’t asked me any questions, he just greeted me with a nod and coarse ‘Hey, Lily,’ and

Small Business Advice

If you have to spend your evening sitting in your office doing the books, put on some old school Bowie.  Really loud.  Ziggy Stardust makes accounting fun.

140Story - Day 59

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

against using you as bait.  It’s dishonorable to a former colleague.”
    “But you did it anyway.”
    He shrugged again.  “Nature of the business.  I think you’ll probably hear from Burton sooner rather than later.  Let him know we haven’t forgotten about him.”
    “I haven’t either,” I muttered.
    For a moment it looked like Michaels might offer to shake hands.  He thought better of it.  “Good luck, Lily.”
    “Go to Hell.”
    With a wave he took his leave.  I glanced up at the security cameras, knowing that Telrik was far from done with following me.  If I was going to find out what was on the thumb drive Kelly slipped me, I’d need to slip them entirely.
    Problem was, I thought I’d been free from them this entire time.  But they’d played me.  Played me good.  I lost my nerve.

140Story - Day 58

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

keep their cool, but one by one they all turned to look.
    Kelly talked to the two men in suits, and cast a glance over his shoulder at me.  The men nodded and led him off.  The remaining Telrik stooges in the bus station abandoned all pretense and cleared out, almost a quarter of the people inside.  One of them approached me, pulling back a cotton hoodie and peeling off a false mustache.  He was heavyset, dark, and pale.
    “Michaels,” I hissed, unable to disguise the hatred in my voice.  “Or whatever your real name is.”
    “Sorry for all the subterfuge,” he said, and didn’t seem sorry in the least, “but when we deal with multiple assets its best to maintain distance from the company.”
    “He’ll never cooperate,” I said.
    Michaels shrugged.  “He already has.  For the record, I argued

140Story - Day 57

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

go of my hand.  “I’m going to let them have me.”
    “Surrender?” I gasped.  That wasn’t like Kelly at all.
    “I didn’t say that.”
    He stood slowly, jutting his chin towards the front door.  Two men stood outside, both in suits, both looking as out of place as a tiger at the South Pole.  Kelly’s eyes scanned the bus station, and each time he spotted a Telrik stooge he nodded.  I was gratified to see my count matched his.
    He took my hand again and squeezed.  “See you on the other side, sweetie.”
    As he walked to the front door I pocketed the thumb drive he’d slipped me.  That was Kelly, always two steps ahead.
    The two Telrik stooges at the door couldn’t disguise their surprise when Kelly presented himself to them.  The others in the bus station tried to

140Story - Day 56

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

did have my back.  All it took was for Telrik to wait long enough, for me to let my guard down enough, to get an opening.  One small gap in my attention to exploit.  They took what they got and ran with it, full speed.
    “I’m sorry,” I said.  I meant it with all my heart.
    Kelly smiled his sad little smile and clasped my hand in his.  “It’s all right, Lily.  Hiding out was only prolonging the inevitable.  Better to take action than keep on the way I was.”
    I wanted to cry.  But I didn’t.  “I don’t think they’ll come in here.  Too many witnesses.”
    “But with all these cameras they’ll be able to follow us anywhere,” Kelly said.  He glanced at the ceiling.  “You can bet they’ll have drones everywhere.”
    “So what do we do?”
    Kelly let

140Story - Day 55

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

was covered with them.  Not an inch of the station was outside camera range.  Not even the spot where I had taken cover.
    “They’ve been playing me for weeks.”  I felt like an idiot.  “Michaels is Telrik.  Has to be.”
    I looked to Kelly for reassurance, for his measured assessment that I was wrong.  He was nodding.  “It’s the only answer.  They’re pushing me out into the open.  One way or another.”
    “And you’re letting them?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing from him.
    Kelly only nodded again, then checked the doors.
    “But they’ve been after you for two years,” I hissed.  “Why are you doing this now?”
    “Because you finally took their bait,” he said with a sad, resigned smile.  “They knew there was no way I’d let you get caught in the middle all alone.”
    He always

140Story - Day 54

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
to get to the bus station from here?”

I did.  We parked three blocks away - illegally - and walked in through the back of the station, where the passengers got on board.  The place smelled like exhaust and stale crackers and people at the end of their rope.  We belonged.
    “He’s got dark hair, heavyset, kind of pale,” I said softly.  “Looked like he might need glasses but he wasn’t wearing any when we talked.”
    Tense as an overwound spring, Kelly scanned the lounge, nodding slightly.  “He and I have met.”
    Oh no.  I retreated, ducking behind a vending machine and putting my back to the wall.
    In a moment Kelly was by my side, concern and suspicion in his eyes.  “What’s up?”
    “You never said you knew him,” I craned my neck, scanning the room for...
    Surveillance cameras.  The place

140Story - Day 53

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

weasels like Burton?
    I didn’t let him see my pain, I just nodded as if that were the answer I’d been expecting all along.
    My phone beeped and a text scrolled across the screen.
    ‘Clr. M33t @ bus stn. I find u.’
    Kelly read it with me, and frowned.  “So we just trust him?  What if he leads Telrik right to us?”
    Being cautious is always good.  But there are times prudence veers far into paranoia’s territory.  I had a feeling Kelly’s had been living there for the past two years.
    “Do you know how to get to the embezzled money?” I asked.
    Kelly nodded.  “But the second I do, Telrik will hand the whole thing over to the Feds.  And I’m screwed.”
    “I’m pretty sure Michaels can get around that.”
    Kelly considered this for a few moments.  “You know how

140Story - Day 52

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

the city.
    Minutes ticked by and we sat quietly.  The sun went down and we didn’t say a word.  No one was following, it seemed.  We had given them the slip.  I hoped.
    From time to time I looked over at Kelly.  He was too thin, and even a lengthy shower hadn’t cleaned him up completely.  He looked more homeless than undercover.  But the man I once knew was in there, not too far below the surface.
    “Why didn’t you get in touch?” I asked, after hours of silence.
    Kelly pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and considered his words.  “I wasn’t sure.”
    “About me?”
    He nodded and my heart broke all over again.  How could he think I would ever be a part of the Telrik machine?  How could he put me in the same category as corporate

140Story - Day 51

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

jackass in a tinted-window sports car pulling into a handicapped spot up front.  Ten seconds after that to slip the paper printed circuit into the space between the window and the door, and we were off.
    Yes, Telrik would eventually swarm the car, especially if he stayed put for a long time.  But then he shouldn’t have parked in a handicapped spot.  Karma.
    I spent two hours doing everything I knew to throw a tail, aside from stealing another car.  If Telrik were following us without benefit of that tracking circuit switching cars would do no good.
    Finally, after exhausting and meticulous work, I backed into an empty patch of asphalt between two dumpsters in an alley in Southtown.  If Telrik still was on us they’d have to come at us from the front, through the worst neighborhood in

Epigenetics and Buboes

I've been doing some reading lately on epigenetics, which is the process by which genes are turned off or on based on external stressors, without changing the underlying DNA sequence.  The idea is that most of the DNA in a person's chromosomes is largely unexpressed, but certain sequences can be turned on if, for example, a person is exposed to DDT or dioxin or just general environmental stress.  Epigenetics allows for those newly-activated or newly-suppressed genes to be passed to children.  This process has been proved in mice, and researchers are studying the process in people to show how second and third generations are affected by their ancestors' stress.  In other words, if your grandfather developed diabetes due to environmental factors, the chance you will get diabetes even without experiencing those same factors rises.  The environmental risk for him has become a genetic risk for you.

This got me to thinking about the Black Death, the worldwide plague in the 14th Century that wiped out a third to a half of Europe's population.  Epidemiologists have traced the disease vector to a bacterium carried in fleas in turn carried by rats.  Geneticists have studied the current version of that bacterium to see if they can determine why it was so virulent seven centuries ago when it doesn't seem to be so now.
    What if these geneticists are on the wrong path?  What if instead of studying why the bacterium seemed to be so virulent, they studied why the population of Europe in 1348 was so susceptible?

What if there were environmental factors from two or three generations before 1348 that made people particularly vulnerable to the Black Death?  The 14th Century was the tail end of the Middle Ages in Europe, and the early part of the century saw the Great Famine, which was about two generations before the Black Death.  Was there something about that calamity that turned on some DNA sequences - or turned some off - thereby predisposing certain people two generations later to contract the plague, and others to resist it?  I don't know, I'm not the geneticist, but I think it's worth exploring.

This has ramifications in modern day as well.  Aside from the obvious environmental toxins - like DDT and dioxin, which researchers are studying - there are many environmental stressors in modern society, and stress can do the epigenetic job just as well as chemicals.  Constant levels of stress can lead to increases in heart disease, liver problems, and obesity in people, but what else?  What changes are we making to our genes that we then pass onto our children?  Kind of a scary thought.

140Story - Day 50

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

taken care of the phone.  But I still had the pictures Telrik had given me.  In my purse.  I handed the envelope to Kelly, who ran his fingers along every seam.  He pulled the bottom fold down, revealing a flash of tiny circuitry, printed on paper.  New tech, something I wasn’t familiar with.
    “Gotta admit, that’s some clever thinking,” he said.  “They gave you this two days ago?”
    I nodded.  My face burned hot with embarrassment.  They’d gotten me.  From the very beginning.
    “That’s a long con,” Kelly muttered.  “What do we do with it?”
    My first thought was to ditch it.  Crumple it into a useless ball and toss it into the gutter.  But I had a better second thought.

It took all of ten minutes to find a busy supermarket parking lot.  Five more minutes to find the

140Story - Day 49

Oops, I missed a day.  Sorry, I was distracted.

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

left, then took my foot off the gas.  Kelly now held my phone, staring at it, waiting for the next instruction.
    ‘UR bng followed.  Lose them,’
    I checked my mirrors.  Nothing.  I looked left, right, up, down, and Kelly did too.
    “Where?” Kelly muttered.
    “Doesn’t matter,” I said, slamming the pedal to the metal.  “We evade.”
    The force of acceleration tossed Kelly backwards, and he landed with a grunt.  I took a left, a right, sped up and slowed down.  Doubled back.  Everything I knew to expose a tail and nothing worked.
    “What if they don’t have to follow us?”  Kelly muttered as he stared out the back window.
    “You mean a tracker?” I snapped.  “We only stole this car a couple of hours ago, how would they...”
    “Your phone?” Kelly’s voice was a whisper.
    I shook my head, I’d

140Story - Day 48

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

‘Rdy 2 tlk? Rply 1 ltr. -M’
    Kelly gave me a hard stare.  If I were him I’d have been suspicious too.
    “I think it’s from Michaels,” I offered, holding out the phone to him.
    “We need his help,” Kelly replied, more to himself than to me.  “Reply with a ‘Y.’”
    I did.
    Nothing happened, though I thought something would.  Even Kelly looked around, as if he were expecting someone to emerge immediately from the shadows.
    When the phone beeped again, it startled me so much I nearly dropped it.
    ‘S on Shoreline.  L at second light.’
    Kelly craned his neck to see.  “This street is Shoreline.  Don’t tell me that bastard already knows exactly where we are.”
    “That’s why he makes the big bucks,” I said as I pointed the car South.
    At the second light I took a

140Story - Day 47

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

you’re never entirely certain if you’re being tracked.  You can spot a person, or a car, or even a drone if you pay close attention.  But if they’re tracking your cell, or monitoring your logins... the person doing the tracking doesn’t even have to be in the same country.
    We ditched the stolen car once we were miles out of Downtown, and promptly stole another.  When we were miles past that point we ditched it and stole a third car.  That was the one we drove back into town.  I hoped the entire exercise wasn’t being monitored in some operations center.  Backed into an abandoned lot in the industrial district; we’d run out of places to hide.
    My cell beeped, an odd warble I’d never heard before.  It was a text, from a number I didn’t know.  It read

140Story - Day 46

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

probably a college student, lugged bags of groceries from an open car door to his low-rent apartment.  The car was still running.
    In a matter of seconds I was behind the wheel and Kelly was in the passenger seat.  I drove off slowly, calmly, as if we were just out for a drive instead of committing grand theft.
    Kelly turned and scanned the road behind us.  “No tail.”
    “Not in a car or truck, no,” I said.  I’d been scanning my rear-view too.  “What if they’ve got eyes on the buildings?  Or drones?”
    He sighed and slumped in the seat.  “This sucks when you don’t have back-up.”
    I nodded.  “You ever hear of a tech guy named Michaels?”
    Kelly gave me a hard stare.  “Yeah.  How do you know him?”

The problem with modern electronic surveillance is

140Story - Day 45

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

guys are with Telrik or Burton.”
    “What if there’s no difference?” I asked.  “What if Telrik is using Burton to get the money back?”
    The idea took Kelly a moment to process.  “I never thought of that.”
    Hugging the wall, Kelly moved for the other end of the alley, pistol in hand.  I followed with my own pistol drawn, scanning above and behind us.  It was like the old days, me and Kelly against the world.
    “Can you still hotwire a car?” Kelly asked softly.
    “Older models are better,” I said, “quicker.  But, yeah, pretty much.”
    Crouching, he eased one eye around the corner.  Turning back, he had a smile on his face.  “Suppose I found you one with the keys still in it?”
    We both concealed our weapons and emerged from the alley.  Not thirty feet away some kid,

140Story - Day 44

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
the ground.  Kelly turned right, I turned left and kicked another agent as he flicked the switch on his radio.  I jabbed two fingers into his throat and grabbed the radio.  Kelly took out his second stooge with a series of incredibly vicious liver punches and an eye gouge.  Kelly played to win, not to be noble.
    We weren’t out of the building more than fifteen seconds and we had taken three of them out.  The element of surprise was gone now, and I could feel eyes on me as I followed Kelly across the street and into an alley.  He ducked behind a dumpster, breathing hard.
    “No shots fired,” he said.
    “You think they’re going for recovery?”
    He ran a hand across his lips, his eyes darting from one end of the alley to the other.  “Depends if these

140Story - Day 43

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

out.”
    “Fire escape is too slow,” I said.  “We’d be sitting ducks.”
    Kelly’s eyebrows raised.  “Drain pipe?”
    I shrugged.  “Only other option’s the front door.”
    Kelly thought for a moment.  “If you were them, would you expect us to use the front door?”

Kelly went first.  He always went first.  It wasn’t chivalry, he didn’t trust anyone else to take point, but he did trust me with his back.
    The stairway was empty, but there were shadows out the building’s front door that shouldn’t have been there.  Kelly tapped me twice and raised three fingers.  Two. One.
    Kelly tugged the door open, catching a Telrik stooge by surprise.  Before the man could touch his radio or reach for his gun Kelly punched him square in the jaw.  I saw the man’s eyes flutter, he was out cold before he hit

140Story - Day 42

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

so I’d keep quiet.”
    “And you’ve never touched a penny of it?”
    Kelly shook his head.  He was as stubborn as they come.
    “So why is Burton coming after you now?”
    “His father’s dead,” Kelly explained.  “A few weeks ago.  Not job related, he’d been in the hospital for a few months.”
    “And Burton wants your share,” I said.
    Kelly nodded slowly.
    There was some movement on the street, not part of the regular ebb and flow.  Nothing I could put my finger on, but my interest was enough to send Kelly to the door leading to the rooftop.
    “What’s going on?”
    “Not sure,” I said slowly.  I counted three vans.  Which was three more than I had ever seen on the street before.  “I think they made us.”
    “Two shadows on the building across the way,” Kelly said.  “Rooftop’s

140Story - Day 41

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
believed him.  Kelly wasn’t one to get sloppy.  “You’re saying someone wanted others to think you were stealing?”
    “I was separating,” he explained, “leaving Telrik.  Like you.  They didn’t want me to go.  Thought I knew about too many skeletons in too many closets.”
    “That’s true about any of us,” I replied.  “What’s so special about you?”
    “Burton’s father.”
    He said it as if that explained everything.  I didn’t take the bait, I just waited.
    “He was the one with sticky fingers,” Kelly said.  “We worked a detail together down South. I found a courier bag.  He opened it.  Took it to the section chief, who thought we three should split it.  I told him no.”
    I went to the window and scanned outside.  Never could be too vigilant.
    “They split it anyway.  And put my name on dirty money

140Story - Day 40

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

we shared, two years back.
    I made him take a shower but he still had the look of an unhinged vagrant, which is why I made the trip for razors.
    “There should be shaving cream in the bathroom,” I said as I tossed the razors to him.
    “I didn’t steal any money,” he said without looking up.  “If I had, do you think I’d still be here, living on the street?”
    I thought about it for a moment.  Kelly was smart, and an opportunist.  “Probably not.  But what was that you said about getting as much money as you needed?”
    “They framed me,” he said, finally making eye contact.  “My fault for not keeping up with sigint.  There is an account in the Caymans with my name on it and several million dollars just waiting.”
    I didn’t know if I

140Story - Day 39

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

with cash, using a debit card would only leave a trail I knew for a fact Telrik could follow.  I walked back to the bolt-hole the long way around, stopping every minute or so to scan for a tail.  Either Telrik operatives had completely changed the way they operated, or I had given them the slip.
    The tiny room sat at the top of narrow stairs and looked out over a rooftop.  One set of windows opened onto a fire escape, the other was within reach of a solid brass drain pipe.  I never stayed in places that had only one way out.
    Kelly was sitting on the second-hand couch, the remains of a take-out sandwich on the table in front of him.  He was eating as if the last food he ate was the last meal

140Story - Day 38

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

as well pull that trigger right now, Kelly.  Because if that’s true then you’re not even close to the kind of man I thought you were.”
    For what seemed like forever Kelly said nothing.  Did nothing.  I thought for sure my days would end as a red spatter on the inside of the windshield.  At long last, mercifully, Kelly tossed the gun into the front seat.
    “You’re right,” he sighed.  “I’m not who you thought I was.”
    “So let me in,” I said softly.  “Tell me what’s going on.”
    “We have to get somewhere safe,” he said.  “Your place is compromised.  So is mine, most likely.”
    He sounded weary.  Defeated.  Two years on the run would do that to any man, even Kelly.
    “I have a couple of possibilities,” I offered.
    Kelly could only nod.

I paid for the razors

140Story - Day 37

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

and ammo cost money.  All the tools you use cost money.  Where does it come from?”
    There was a long silence.  I felt the gun on the back of my skull again.  “You passed Green Street.”
    “I told Theda you wouldn’t steal,” I said.  “But you did it, didn’t you?  How much, Kelly?  What was your price?”
    “You know them,” he replied, a tiny quaver in his usually-strong voice, “Telrik are bad people.  The worst.”
    “That doesn’t make stealing from them okay.”
    He pressed the pistol more firmly against my head.  “Is stealing from a thief wrong?  Or is it poetic justice?”
    I took a deep breath and gripped the wheel tight.  I was going to take a gamble, one that I couldn’t afford to lose.  “If you were gone for two years just because of money... you might

140Story - Day 36

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

the commotion was.
    Truth be told, that wasn’t far wrong.  I was in the dark about so much.
    Kelly was playing a long game, that was clear, but I had no idea what the game actually was.  Missing funds?  Murder in broad daylight?  There were stakes here I was totally unfamiliar with.  I was the dupe.  The pasty.  And I didn’t like it one bit.
    I drove slowly, but not too slowly.  “Theda said you were involved in embezzling.”
    A snort of derision sounded from the back seat.  “I can get as much money as I need any time I need it.”
    “Tell me the truth, Kelly,” I said as I passed Green Street without turning, “how have you been living these past two years?”
    “I’ve been free,” he replied.  “Not tied to anyone else’s agenda.”
    “Apartments cost money.  Guns

140Story - Day 35

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

we moving?” Kelly demanded. I felt the pistol on my skull again.
    “How did you find me?”
    Kelly smiled, the first human emotion I’d seen him display.  “I’ll always know where you are, Lily.”
    “Then you know about Burton.”
    Kelly frowned.  “Hack.”
    “I think he used me to flush you out.”
    Kelly shrugged.  “Of course he did.”
    I waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed content to hold the gun to my head and say nothing even as sirens grew louder and closer.  In a flash, I got it.
    “But you’re ahead of him.”
    The pistol eased away from my head.  “Always.  We need to leave.  Don’t attract attention to yourself.”
    I eased away from the curb just as the first police car screamed past.  I watched it go, pretending I was just another passer-by wondering what all

140Story - Day 34

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

lived it.  The constant tension, ready for any threat at any time.  I’d overcome it with difficulty and help.  The kind of help Kelly needed but never got.
    “Did you kill Theda?” I asked.
    “Drive, dammit,” Kelly hissed.
    I didn’t move.  I needed to know.  “She’s dead.”
    “The brunette you were with?  Is that what the gunshot was?  Not me.”  He shook his head.  “Broad daylight... amateurs.”
    I turned the key and Kelly flinched.  “Which way to avoid cops?”
    Kelly cocked his head, listening as the sirens came closer.  “Left on Green, right on Lake, then the second alley.  Back in.”
    I knew roughly where he was taking me.  Close to where I thought he would be, but not exactly.  Kelly was unpredictable, which was why Burton needed me to find him.
    Or... needed Kelly to find me.
    “Why aren’t

140Story - Day 33

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

   It was him.  Kelly.  Or a version of him.  I recognized the eyes, the blue irises with a darker ring on the outside.  And the crinkles at the edges that only got deeper as time went on.
    But that was it.  If I hadn’t heard his voice and seen his eyes I would never have guessed this was Kelly.  He was thin, almost emaciated, and his brown hair was long and greasy.  He hadn’t shaved or groomed his beard in any way, and his skin looked unhealthy, like a person who’d been in the hospital too long.  Or a homeless person, which is what I suspected he’d become.
    “We need to get away from here,” he said, almost a whisper.  His eyes darted around, trying to take in everything all at once.
    I’d seen this before, the hyper-awareness.  I’d

140Story - Day 32

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

one had followed me.  As I opened the door I got a tingle, right up my spine.  I should have paid attention.  I shouldn’t have gotten in.
    As I started the car I felt the cold kiss of gun metal at the base of my skull.
    “Why are you working with them?”
    I’d fallen asleep to that voice and I’d woken up to it.  It was as familiar to me as my own, but much more welcome in my ear.
    Kelly.
    “I’m taking their money,” I said carefully.  He hadn’t moved the pistol away.  “It’s not the same as working with them.”
    For what seemed like forever he waited, the gun still pressed to the back of my head.  Finally, mercifully, he let the pistol drop.
    “I’ll buy that.  For now.”
    Only then did I dare look in the rear-view.

140Story - Day 31

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

shooter was either finished or very, very disciplined.
    I had to make myself scarce.  No telling how many people had seen me and Theda together, and I didn’t feel like answering to the police.  A kid with a skateboard joined the man in the suit, and then a woman walking a dog.
    “Oh my GOD!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.  Within seconds curious spectators rushed in from every direction, each of them asking the others what had happened and how they could help.  In the distance sirens wailed.
    I took a deep breath and left the cover of the delivery van, walking quickly and quietly away from the scene.  I scanned the rooftops and windows for a flash or a silhouette, but there was nothing.
    My legs trembling, I made it back to my car, positive no

140Story - Day 30

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

pop sounded, and a red spot bloomed over Theda’s heart.  Her purse fell from her hand, and a moment later she toppled over, her head cracking the pavement with a horrible hollow thud.  Someone had taken her out, in broad daylight, on a busy city street.
    The shot came from above me and behind, so I took a sharp left and ran for cover behind a delivery van.  With every step I expected to feel the searing agony of a bullet wound, or to hear a bullet whistle past my ear.  I dove behind the van, hoping to high heaven I’d guessed the shooter’s location properly.
    A few moments later a man in a suit noticed the body on the sidewalk and stopped to render aid.  I waited for another pop, for another body slumped on the sidewalk, but the

140Story - Day 29

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

explanation.  In less than ten minutes we were in front of the Grange building.  And there was the new construction, plainly visible over the facade.
    “I think I know where to find him.”  My voice was almost a whisper.
    I heard a metallic click and slowly turned around.  Theda stood well out of arm’s reach, her hand thrust into her purse, which showed the telltale bulge of a suppressor.  She was good, misdirecting me from her purse like that.
    “You don’t want to do that,” I said.  “Seriously.”
    She shrugged slightly.  “It’s a little too late to think about what I want.  Where do I find Kelly?”
    “How much did Burton promise you?” I took a step to my right and she followed.
    “He’s got nothing to do with it,” she replied.  “I have to look out f...”
    A faint

140Story - Day 28

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

same spot as the photographer.  He saw a reason to take the picture, now I just had to find it.  I relaxed, eased open the shutters I put on my senses, and let it all in.  Sights, sounds, smells, I let it wash over me and through me.  Only by letting go could I truly grasp the moment.
    High ground.  That’s what I saw.  Not the Federal Building itself, but new construction several blocks beyond, the kind of mixed-use hipster bullshit the City Council had been favoring for the past few years.  The top of that building could look out over most of the city.  A perfect spot for Kelly to hole up.  As long as he had more than one way in and out.
    I practically ran past Theda, giving her a terse ‘this way’ as my only

140Story - Day 27

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

in one gulp.  “Let’s get going.  Do we pay here or at the register?”
    “I run a tab,” I explained.  “Marcy kind of owes me.  Long story.”

I drove.  I always drive, that way I always have the keys.  I did the parking receipt dance, which is buying the ticket on the East side of Downtown, where it’s cheaper, and then taking a space South of Downtown, where it’s not.  Being broke makes a person creative.
    Theda gripped her purse carelessly, but took great care to button her jacket, which told me she kept her pistol close to her heart.  Literally.  I studied her without seeming to, and I’m positive she did the same to me.  I liked her, but I did not trust her, not for one moment.
    We found the Federal Building first, and I stood in the

140Story - Day 26

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

feeling that she wanted to clasp my hands.  Lucky for her she didn’t.
    “Missing funds,” she said.  “A substantial amount.”
    It didn’t seem like Kelly to be an embezzler.  But if he were, it wouldn’t be for a paltry sum.  Go big or go home, he liked to say.
    “Which is why Burton has disappeared,” I said, thinking out loud.  “Although if Kelly did steal I doubt he’d keep any of it in cash.”
    Theda pushed a dark strand of hair out of her face.  “Burton’s pretty good at advanced interrogation techniques.”
    I shook my head.  “He’d have to find Kelly, then catch him, then keep him.  None of that’s going to happen.  But at least now we know where we can look for Burton.  And what he’ll be looking for.”
    She stood quickly, downing the last of her coffee

140Story - Day 25

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

have a start,” Theda said.  “Chances are good Kelly is within a quarter mile of these spots.”
    “Unless he was screwing with your surveillance team.”
    Theda nodded.  “Anything you know that could help?”
    I sighed.  There were hundreds of things.  Little things.  He didn’t like echoes, so his place would probably be carpeted, sour smells bothered him so he would be away from businesses with strong odors.  He liked to read the paper in the morning, so he’d be somewhere he could get one quickly and easily.  Details you learned when you shared a life with someone.
    “Not really,” I lied.
    “You do know why Telrik is looking for him, don’t you?”
    I shook my head.  I couldn’t care less why they wanted him, I had my own reasons.  “Loose ends?”
    Theda leaned across the table, and I had the

140Story - Day 24

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

In my favorite booth at Marcy’s I set the three photos in front of Theda.  Immediately she tapped the odd one.
    “Doctored,” she declared.  “Pretty decent job.”
    “What can you tell me about the surveillance team that took these other two?” I asked.
    She shook her head.  “Nothing.  We’re completely separated.  I can tell you they wouldn’t have taken a picture if they didn’t think it was important.  They don’t take snapshots to share online.”
    “These are South of Downtown,” I replied, more talking out loud than to her, “where Kelly is supposed to be.  Maybe... do you think they were trying to triangulate?”
    “Could be,” Theda said.  She stared at one picture.  “This is the old Federal building, looking West.  This one is the Grange building, looking North.”
    “The other point could be almost anywhere,” I muttered.
    “But we

140Story - Day 23

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

he would, but you know how many bodies Kelly’s left behind.  All of those people thought they were smarter.”
    I could see the wheels turn in her brain.  “So... what do you care if Burton gets himself removed?”
    I shrugged.  “I don’t.  But if I can find Burton before he’s a corpse, I can probably find Kelly too.  That’s what I care about.”
    In an instant she came to a decision, no dithering, no over-thinking.  I was going to like this girl.  “I’ll help you.  But when we find him, if Burton is operating on his own...”
    “He’s all yours,” I agreed.
    She stuck out her hand.  “Theda Grayle.”
    Of course... I had read her dossier.  Formidable.  I had to remember never to turn my back on her.
    “Lily Walker.”
    “Yes, I know,” she replied.  “Where do we start?”

140Story - Day 22

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

mull her options, going through the same operational checklist I would have five years before, when I was her.  Fight?  No.  Flee?  No.  Negotiate and gather intel.
    Her posture changed, her shoulders relaxed and her weight shifted to a normal, non-fighting stance.  “He’s not missing.  Yet.”
    “Right,” I said, remembering protocol, “it hasn’t been forty-eight hours.  Trust me, he’s gone.  He thinks he’s found Kelly.”
    Her eyes narrowed and her hands folded over her chest, but after a moment she nodded.  “That’s why we’re paying you, isn’t it?”
    “Which is how I know Burton is never going to find Kelly,” I replied.  “Too easy.  Three photographs and your intel guys have enough to find a man like him who doesn’t want to be found?”
    She shook her head slowly.  “Burton wouldn’t fall for a trap.”
    “He doesn’t think

140Story - Day 21

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

come up behind her all along.  For an instant her hand moved to the inside of her jacket, towards her pistol, but she glanced at all the potential witnesses crowding the street and thought better of it.
    “I need to talk to Burton,” I said.  I was standing just far enough away that I could deal with a punch or a kick.
    Her eyebrows raised, just a tick, but enough for me to know there was something wrong.  “He’ll find you when the time comes.”
    “He’s missing, isn’t he?” I replied.  I knew the answer, I just wanted to see if she did.
    Her lips pursed, and she flipped her hair out of her face.  “Working.”
    “Unless ‘working’ for him means ‘not answering the phone,’” I said, “he’s missing.  I know why.”
    She considered this carefully.  I could see her

140Story - Day 20

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

started at Telrik after I left, but I was on the review board, I had seen her photos, I might even had read her dossier.  I didn’t remember her name, but I absolutely remembered her face.
    She ducked out of sight, becoming just another random face in a city full of them.  If she was smart - if Telrik told her who I had been - she would abandon standard procedure.  I was banking on Telrik keeping her in the dark.
    Two blocks over, one block up, one block back, and if things went as I suspected they would she should be...
    Right in front of me.  Looking the other way.
    “You’re not going to find me over there,” I said.
    To her credit she did not jump, not even a flinch.  She turned around as if she’d been expecting me to

140Story - Day 19

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

door.  I muttered under my breath, cursing myself for half-assing this from the start.  I hadn’t gathered any intel on Burton, I didn’t even know his partner’s name.  Slip-ups like that were what had cost colleagues their lives, and might do the same for me.
    I was two blocks away before I found spotted the person following me.  She was good, I’ll give her that much, I only noticed her because she was so intent on keeping me in sight she almost got run down by a garbage truck.  Medium height, shoulder-length hair, nondescript clothes, she could have been any of ten thousand people within a hundred yards of me.
    Except I recognized her.
    Telrik had slipped up putting her on my tail.  They thought I had no idea who she was, but they were mistaken.  She

140Story - Day 18

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
suspected would lead me right to Kelly.  So he’d made it disappear.
    The wheels turned in my head.  If Burton altered a photo to throw me off Kelly’s trail... he must have found Kelly already.  Or had a very, very good idea of where Kelly was.  Son of a bitch.  I was getting soft, it had taken me the better part of a day to figure this out.  I’d burned a lot of time.
    My mission changed.  Instead of finding Kelly, first I had to find Burton.  Who would have gone to ground if he were anything other than the stupidest person on the planet.  One of the best rules in my business, though, was ‘never underestimate the stupidity of your target.’
    I shrugged on a long coat and stuffed my pistol into my handbag as I headed out the

140Story - Day 17

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

Two of the pictures were places I recognized, indeed South of Downtown.  The third place, though, didn’t look right.  The framing was different, the focus off, the light inconsistent with the other two.  Which wouldn’t usually be suspicious - a different photographer, for instance, or a phone snapshot versus an SLR - but it seemed like the image had been altered.
    Why?
    I knew all of Telrik’s dirty tricks.  Hell, I’d invented a few of them.  But why give me an altered photo?  Was it supposed to lead me in the wrong direction?  Maybe keep me from going the right direction?
    Then it hit me.  The only explanation that made sense.  Telrik hadn’t given me an altered photo.  Burton had.  That corporate weasel was following orders, but screwing me up at the same time.  The original photo must have showed something Burton

140Story - Day 16

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
exposed like a raw nerve.  Our first meeting had been after midnight, when he thought I was a skulk for the other side.  I almost shot him in the face, but he whispered the watch word at the last moment.  Our final encounter had been under a hail of bullets as he was making his exit from Telrik by any means possible.  I was supposed to shoot him then, too.  I made him shoot me, to make his getaway seem plausible.
    I ran my hand along the scar on my calf.  Through and through, the entry and exit wounds lined up neatly, and they’d healed perfectly.  Unlike my heart.  He was still lodged in there, shrapnel that I couldn’t remove or I’d die.
    I shook my head to clear it, and studied the pictures again.  South of Downtown, Burton said.

140Story - Day 15

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
locations, without any images of Kelly for validation.  He was a sasquatch, without even blurry photos to point to.
     On the last page of the barely-there documentation, I found my name.  Lily Walker.  ‘Associate.’
    That stung.  ‘Associate.’  Like we shared an office instead of a bed, or went fifty-fifty on an organic restaurant and shared the chores.  ‘Associate.’  I tried not to let it get to me, this was Telrik, after all, assholes from top to bottom and every rung in between.  For all I knew they put the word in there on purpose just to rile me.  If so, it was working.
    I put down the pages and squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back the tears.  I was a pro, emotions were for after the job was done.  Except when Kelly was involved, then my emotions were

Uber Sucks

Uber, the 'ridesharing' service, sucks.  They portray themselves as a fiesty little start-up shaking the foundations of modern business - always an heroic narrative - but there's really no difference between the creeping corporate evil of, say, Google or Monsanto and that perpetrated by Uber.

So what is Uber?  For those not yet in the loop, Uber is a 'ridesharing' service, started in San Francisco and branching out all over the world.  The business's central conceit is that, unlike regular taxi drivers, Uber drivers are not pros, they're just schmoes like you and me who happen to be going somewhere and are willing to take others along.  For a price.
    This is the lie.  Uber drivers do not go anywhere, they sit behind the wheel and drive others places they themselves are not visiting.  Which, if you look it up, is what taxi drivers do. 
    A 'rideshare' would be if I were going to an outlet mall and agreed to take others along.  I'd get out of the car, do my shopping, gather everyone up at the end of the day and go home.  Sharing a ride to a common destination.  If I pile people in my car, drop them off at the outlet mall for a fee, then go find others to take somewhere else, I'd be a taxi driver.  Which is what Uber drivers are.

Why does that mean Uber sucks?
   Because Uber knows it's a taxi service, it's calling itself a 'rideshare' service to skirt the laws and ordinances where it operates.  The owners think that as long as they don't call themselves a taxi service they don't have to comply with any taxi service regulations.  But the name does not make the business, the practice does.
   If I call myself a 'curandero' and start performing surgery, no amount of protesting on my part will keep me from being prosecuted for impersonating a physician.  If I were to call myself an 'alchemist' instead of a meth dealer, the title would make me no less a criminal.  By the same token, if an Uber driver takes you from one point in the city to another and you have to pay him for the privilege, then that driver is a taxi driver.  No matter how loudly Uber insists otherwise.
   The worst part of this juvenile misdirection is that Uber contends its drivers do not have to have commercial licenses, or commercial insurance, or criminal background checks, etc. etc. etc.  They're putting their drivers and their customers at a very real risk of injury and death.  Because it's a 'rideshare' and not a taxi.
   Uber sucks.

How is this emblematic of larger corporate evil?
   Uber is lying, they know they're lying, and they're challenging local governments to catch them at it and stop them.  Which is what giant evil corporations do.  In the past corporations have tried to keep their evil secret, like tobacco companies making more addictive cigarettes, or corporate agriculture companies patenting seeds so they can charge farmers in perpetuity, even when farmers only bought seeds once (a lifetime seed subscription fee, as it were).
   The big game changer for corporate evil, though, was Google.  Those guys were the ones who made brazen audacity a marketing tactic.  For instance, Google took it upon themselves to digitize entire libraries to make the contents available online.  The problem with that effort was Google did not own the rights to those books, and didn't notify the authors of their intentions.  They just did it, legality, ethics, and morality be damned.  Same thing with Google street view, Google glass, and on and on.  Their business model is to ask forgiveness rather than permission.  After the damage is already done, of course.
   The case can be made that Google does its thing in legal gray areas (not really), where the technology is new and the rules are not set (still, not really).  Just a bunch of nerds trying to change the world and stepping on stodgy old men's toes along the way. 
   The problem is Google infected others with its 'laws be damned' attitude.  People like the owners and backers of Uber, who are not operating in any new tech areas, they're putting butts in seats and taking them from point A to point B.  They'll say it's different because they have an app for it, but that's not even a weak argument, it's an excuse for flouting laws.
   Uber sucks.

Most of all though, Uber sucks because it's clearly the vanguard for more of its kind.  Assholes who think that they can do whatever they want, as long as they get away with it for long enough to make money.  Uber will go out of business, that's an inevitability and a very short-term reality, but the damage it's done will inspire others to imitate it, and make their malfeasance everyone else's problem.
   Seriously, Uber sucks.

140Story - Day 14

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

 to work on my phone.  I had an American phone, not the kind you could easily switch SIM cards on, not like everyone else in the world.  Except I could.  I cracked the case, switched the SIM card and suddenly I was a grandmother from Memphis.
    Then, and only then, did I call Michaels.  He didn’t answer, I didn’t expect him to, but I left him a short message.  ‘This is Lily.  Find me.’  He’d do the rest.

While I waited for Michaels I examined the manilla envelope Burton gave me.  Nothing odd that I could see, no suspicious powder or stray wires, no obvious signs of tampering.  It was thin, far less substantial than other dossiers I’d handled while with Telrik, and a testament to Kelly’s thorough paranoia.  Inside I found eight pages and three photo prints, ‘last known’

140Story - Day 13

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
it, where Telrik would have put a minuscule pinhole camera.  I went about my business in my apartment, carefully cataloging the things that were not quite right.
    Ten.  I hadn’t been with Burton more than an hour but that was all Telrik needed to put ten different monitoring devices in my place.  I took a short rest, made a sandwich and watched a little TV, and then removed nine of them.  Telrik would expect me to find some - why else place so many? - but if I got rid of all of them they’d just be back tomorrow with a better crew.  It was easier to leave one camera, right by the front door, which they would be watching from outside anyway.
    I swept the bathroom twice more before I was sure I hadn’t missed any surveillance hardware. Then I went

140Story - Day 12

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

sense, over two fingers of scotch while a Yankees game blared in the background.  Michaels.  Tech guy.  Sort of.  Gray-market tech, not the kind of stuff you could go to the mall and get.
    I made it to my apartment without letting the stooges tailing me know I knew exactly where they were.  Standard Telrik procedure, eyes on the target at all times.  My front door looked exactly like I’d left it, but I knew better.  I went in, fingers closed around the Glock in my handbag.
    Nothing seemed disturbed.  And maybe it hadn’t been.  Maybe Telrik didn’t need to get inside any longer, maybe electronic surveillance was enough.  But there was something...
    There.  Right in the front entry.  The souvenir, tourist-kitsch bowl from Africa had been moved.  Slightly.  I didn’t look up at the vent directly above

140Story - Day 11

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

slices of my purchasing history.  Nothing I did was secret, I knew that.  At least nothing I did in a legit way, like a regular person.  But if I were to take myself off the grid, like Kelly, or at least dip my toe in the midnight current that ran alongside the daylight path...
    The first thing would be to ditch my phone.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.  If I got rid of it entirely they’d know something wasn’t right.  Everyone had a phone these days, even kindergarteners.  A grown businesswoman without a cell phone?  I might as well have e-mailed them my entire plan.  No, this was going to take some effort.  But Kelly was worth it.
    A few months back I’d met a guy at Scully’s place.  No, it wasn’t like that, I met him in a business

140Story - Day 10

  I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

envelope again.  “Instructions are there.  Along with half your fee.”
    I didn’t touch the envelope, and I wouldn’t until Burton was long gone.  “Half?  Telrik usually starts at ten percent.”
    He tried to smile again, but it came across as a smirk.  “We’re fairly certain you’ll make the effort.”
    He was right, of course.  Telrik knew everything about their people, including their weaknesses.  A good glass of whiskey was one of mine.  Kelly was the other.

If I hadn’t been a paranoid wreck before, I became one after I left Marcy’s.  Check your six, always.  And now my three o’clock, and nine, and up, and down, and sideways.  Telrik was watching, they always were, but their methods had to have improved in the years since I worked for them.  There were drones now, and GPS tracking devices, and big data

140Story - Day 9

 I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

couldn’t close my mouth.  He was here?  In the city?
    “Yeah, we were surprised too,” Burton admitted.  “We’d been hearing rumors but nothing solid.  Then we got a semi-reliable tip and sent a scout.  Decent kid, fresh out of training.  Never heard from him again.”
    I nodded, slowly regaining my composure.  That was how Kelly worked.  If he didn’t want to be found, you weren’t going find him.  I could make him want to be found, though.
    “So instead of risking another asset, you thought you’d get me to flush him out?”
    Burton shrugged.  “You and Kelly go back.  That’s something he respects.”
    ‘Go back.’  That was a very corporate way of describing our relationship.  Kelly had been... everything to me.  Once upon a time.
    “When I find him,” I refused to say ‘if’, “then what?”
    Burton tapped the 

140Story - Day 8

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
sat in a booth at Marcy’s across from Burton.  He’d come alone like I asked, no doubt leaving Crewcut Douchebag Number Two to monitor our conversation from the car.  That’s how Telrik did things.
    Burton sipped his coffee - black - and slid a manilla envelope across the table.  “This should get you started.”
    “You need to tell me more.”  I wasn’t eating or drinking anything.  Not with Telrik around.
    “It’s all in there.”  Burton tried to smile but it never quite got to his eyes.  Yes, he was young, but he was dangerous.  The kind of person Telrik liked to hire, and then twist into something horrible.
    “Where is he?”  I expected the answer to be somewhere you needed a passport to get to, and maybe an armed escort.
    Burton tapped the envelope.  “South of Downtown.  We’re pretty sure.”
    Shocked, I

140Story - Day 7

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap
 
I missed and it upended, spilling everything onto the floor.  Including the business card from Crewcut Douchebag.
    As I picked up the card Telrik’s logo stared back at me, the same one I had once proudly and naively worn like a badge.  The name read ‘T. Burton.’  The guy was such a pompous tool he thought he only needed an initial instead of a first name.  Asshole.  I was about to crumple it up and throw it in the toilet when, for some reason, I turned it over.
    ‘Kelly.’
    One word.  A name.  The only name that mattered.  That’s all it took, and I was in.  No matter how terrible Telrik was, no matter what kind of betrayal they undoubtedly had planned, no matter what danger I would face, I was going to take that job.

The next day I

140Story - Day 6

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in this next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

wiping and moving bottles around.
    I tapped my empty glass on the bar.  “You think there’s another round left in that fifty?”

Later, glad I decided to wear flats, I climbed the stairs to my apartment.  Which was also my office.  I had a separate office six months ago but my finances dictated I choose between the two.  My office had the faster internet connection, but my apartment had a working shower, so there really was no choice.  I’ll take clean hair over cat videos any day of the week.
    Weaving slightly I got undressed, already feeling the fuzz of a hangover developing on my tongue.  Not for the first time I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I cut out drinking I might have enough money for other things.
    I tried to drop my handbag on the dresser, but

140Story - Day 5

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in the next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

and a fifty onto the bar and waved Crewcut Douchebag Number Two to the door.
    “Lily,” Burton called across the room, “the offer’s on the table for twenty-four hours.  After that we’re moving on.”
    I nodded and waved my free drink at him as they left. 
    Scully had already scooped up the fifty, and his other hand hovered over the business card.  “What do you want me to do with this?”
    ‘Throw it in the garbage’ was on my lips.  I swear it was.  But I hesitated, just that one moment.  A lifetime of regret is built from moments like that.
    “I’ll take it,” I said, shoving it into my handbag.  “You know.  Just in case.”
    Scully frowned.  He knew my past.  He knew my present too.  Shaking his head he went back to his bartender business, cleaning and

140Story - Day 4

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in the next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap

was with Telrik he already knew my address, my credit score, and my blood type.  Knowing my name wasn’t impressive or scary.
    “Still not interested.”
    He sat, uninvited.  Three easy ways to cripple him flashed through my brain.
    “We’re not trying to get you back on the team,” he said, with an oily smile that made me think of a fourth way.  “We have a job.  Freelance.  No strings.”
    There were always strings with Telrik.  Always.
    I smiled sweetly, blinked my mascara-less eyelashes slowly, and shook my head so my auburn braid ended up trailing down my neck.  Just in case things were going to get ugly.
    “One last time.  No.  Thank you.”
    A flash of anger took over his face for a moment, then he covered it.  “Fair enough.  We have other resources.”
    He flipped a business card

140Story - Day 3

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in the next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap.

to talk to them, and I desperately wanted to avoid that.  After I thought about it for a moment, I took the glass and saluted them in return.  Which meant now I owed them.
    I’d give anything to give back that free drink.
    Crewcut Douchebag Number One stood and made his approach.  He was the sort who tugged on his lapels for confidence.  Square jaw, but not much stubble, clear eyes without a single wrinkle at the edges.  He was a kid playing at being grown.
    “I’m Burton,” he said.  “I’m with Telrik.”
    Of course he was.  My old employer.  Back when I thought exchanging my conscience and soul for a regular paycheck was a good bargain.
    “Not interested,” I said, “but thanks for the drink.”
    “You’re Lily Walker.”  He watched my face, waiting for a response.  But if he

140Story - Day 2

It just occurred to me that people will have to scroll down to read the first bits.  If they want to read them in order.  Maybe it'll be better backwards.
   To recap, I'm telling a story not in 140 character chunks, but in 140 word chunks.  Kind of builds in an annoying cliffhanger every day, doesn't it?   I will continue daily until either the story's finished (no idea when, I'm writing it in 140 word chunks), I lose interest, or I see others have lost interest.

The next 140 word chapter of Bullets Ain't Cheap:

to pay for this round.”
    He nodded at the crewcut douchebags who’d come in half an hour ago.  They sat in the corner, backs to the wall, each nursing a beer they’d barely sipped.  They looked like cops, they sat like cops, they gave me the eye like cops.  But they weren’t cops.  Not regular ones, the kind the city paid.  They were corporate security.  Hired assholes.  They saw me and raised their beers in salute.
    I shook my head.  “I pay for my own drinks.”
    Scully winced.  “You kind of don’t.  Not this month at least.  You might want to give this a second thought.”
    He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but Scully was wise in the ways of the world.  And he had a business to run, same as me.  But if I accepted I’d have

140Story - Day 1

I thought of something new I'm going to try.  Full disclaimer, this is an experiment, and as such has a very high probability of failing.  But it might work, too.
   I thought about people who consume information in tiny chunks nowadays, which is many people.  If you can't express it in 140 characters, then what's the point #amirite?  But stories take more than 140 characters.  They require development and nurturing.  No one can do a story in 140 character chunks, you just can't follow the narrative thread.
     But what about 140 word chunks?
Could a person - me - write a story in 140 word units, and have it hold together?  Could people consume it in 140 word chunks and enjoy it?  I don't know, but I want to find out.

I'm going to write a story in 140 word chunks and post it daily.  How many days?  Until it's done. Or until I lose interest.  Or until I find out that everyone else has lost interest.  Like I said, it's an experiment.
   I chose a modern noir story, because I think that sort of tale requires very little set-up, the tropes are familiar, and people can jump in at any point and get the gist of what's going on.  I hope.  So here goes, the first installment of my 140Story, Bullets Ain't Cheap.

The night was hot but the whisky was cold, and Scully let me put it on my tab.  Funds had been running dry lately, with a few clients who hadn’t bothered to pay me and a landlord always half a day away from packing up what little I had and throwing it onto the sidewalk. Sure, being a private detective was tough, but I was my own boss, worked my own hours, and never had to wear a necktie.  It was a fair trade in my book.
    I tapped my glass, hoping Scully would spot me another two fingers of scotch.  He did.  As the turpentine vapors hit my nose I savored the liquor on my tongue.  I’d developed a taste for it during the war.  Maybe too much of a taste.
    “Lily,” Scully said, “the gentlemen over there want

Dear Hollywood

Dear Hollywood:

First, let me say that the last few years - heck, the last fifteen years - have been magical for me.  Really.  I think it started with 'The Fellowship of the Ring,' one of my favorite books, and one that I certainly never expected to see on the big screen.  I mean, how crazy is it that I got to see the Balrog and Rivendell and... just... everything?  So I thank you for that.  Then there was Spider-Man, the Raimi version.  Excellent, and true to the story.  Then there was Watchmen, another movie I never thought could be done in live-action.  But you did it, Hollywood.  And it was superb.  Then there were the X-Men, and Iron Man, and the Hulk and the Avengers, all Marvel properties, which I don't begrudge you.  Honestly, DC and Warner Bros. have yet to get it together for a large franchise.  Harry Potter seven or eight times, Narnia, another go at Tolkien.  There was Hellboy - twice - and Constantine and Ghost Rider and The Dark Knight and Captain America and Wolverine.  Superman two or three times.  And, yes, I'll even count Green Lantern.  You discovered superheroes at last, Hollywood, and jumped in with both feet.  The kid in me who always longed to see his comic-book heroes come to life has lived to see the day.  Which makes what I'm about to say a little difficult.

It's got to stop.

I say this as a lifelong comic collector.  I have 39 long boxes of comics- conservatively figure 10,000 issues - bought with my own money the hard way, once a week on Wednesday, every Wednesday, for decades.  The comic store guys call me 'sir.'  I know the material, I love the material, I love the movies, even the bad ones.  I'm a fan.  I'm the guy you most want in your corner, but I can't be, not any longer.  Hollywood, you need to quit it with the superhero movies.  The concept has run its course, it's not novel, it's not exciting, it's not anything I want to see.

Do you remember when you were a kid, Hollywood, maybe fourteen, and you knew your way around town and you had your own money?  You could make your own decisions and not have to answer to anyone.  Not until you got home, anyway.  And that one time you decided what you really wanted to spend your lawnmowing money on was ice cream? Not a cone from the truck, but a half gallon from the grocery store.  And you and your friend each bought half a gallon, and plastic spoons, and you went to the park and ate as much ice cream as you thought you wanted. When you were eating, it was great, wasn't it?  But afterwards... oh, afterwards you realized that the reason your mother never let you eat an entire half gallon of ice cream was that it was a terrible idea.

You're eating too much ice cream right now, Hollywood.  You're releasing too many superhero movies, and they're all starting to look the same. What began as a cause slowly became a business and now is becoming a racket.* Can't you see you're poisoning the well?
     I get it, guys my age with my kind of life experiences run you now, Hollywood, and they want to see what I wanted to see.  But it's not the only thing I wanted to see.  Twenty years ago superhero movies were tough to sell and almost impossible to make, I get it, and now that technology has advanced you can put on the screen what you never could before.  The challenge is to do that with new properties instead of retreading ideas and characters and stories that are seventy-plus years old.  I thought I wanted to see my comic books up on the big screen, but it turns out I liked them better when they were on the page.

So, that's it, Hollywood.  We're breaking up, you and I.  No more superhero movies.  I'm done.  When you get a fresh idea that doesn't involve mining someone else's work, give me a call.  I won't change my number, but I'm not going to hold my breath either.

Sincerely,
Don Hartshorn 


* thank you Eric Hoffer

Book Smart vs. Real Smart

As a society, we know a lot about a lot of things.  When I think about how much more I know about how the universe works than I did even five years ago, I'm amazed.  When I think about how much more I know about how the universe works than my grandfather did... I can't even really wrap my head around that.  There are things I remember reading about in his old Popular Science magazines, wacky predictions no one took seriously, that are real right now.  Some of the stuff my grandfather used to chuckle about I take for granted every day.

So what?
   Why the blasphemous question?  What do I mean, 'so what?'  Isn't the advancement of science its own reward?  Don't we all benefit?  Aren't social revolutions enabled by the ubiquity of our technology?

Well, sure.  Technology and science have enabled many things, not the least of which is populist uprisings in countries where that sort of thing was once thought impossible. Egypt, I'm looking your way.  But... I'm not so certain the gee-whiz advancements of science and technology have made their way into our social consciousness.

Time was, forty years ago, the United States had sent men to the Moon over and over again, and science and technology was riding high.  Social advancement was on the rise too, with equality for minorities and women becoming not just a wish, but a mandate.  Society and social consciousness were on the fast track to change.  And, man, as far as technology was concerned, things kicked into high gear.  Tech and science exploded, giving us all the many attention-grabbing and focus-eroding devices we have today.

Social science?  After about ten years of true progress it all ground to a halt.  Sure, we now have a growing equality movement for gay people that didn't exist forty years ago, but we still have an income gap for women, and an increasingly impoverished middle class, and an all-but-extinct working class.  The Supreme Court seems to think that corporations are people and that money doesn't corrupt the political process.  We're working backwards.  What we gained by miles decades ago we're losing by inches now.  And all the technology and science doesn't seem to make a difference.

It's time to leave aside being book smart, at least for a while.  We need to be real smart.  People smart.  Compassionate.  Human.  Money isn't everything, it's not even really important.  Neither is the next wireless standard, or how many thousands of miles away we can be and still kill someone, or which app lets a corporation dig deeper into our personal information.  What matters is what we do with that technology to make the world a better place.  To help others.  To improve the lives of everyone, not just a lucky few.  It's time to stop being selfish and start putting the interests of others before our own.  It's only then that we'll truly earn the advancements of science and technology.

How Nice?

I stopped into a convenience store today, to buy snacks and a soda I absolutely had no business consuming, and I noticed an older lady behind the counter.
  Now, by 'older' I don't mean in her forties, or fifties, or even just older than me, I mean past retirement age.  She had liver spots on her hands and that kind of stooped, osteo-porotic posture you see older white women getting.  And she didn't move very fast.
  My first thought was 'Oh, how nice, she's decided she needs to get out of the house and be around people for a few hours a day.  Good for her.  When I get that old I'd like to do the same.'
  Then, as I waited in line, I had a second thought.
  What if she needs to work?
  What if, despite her best efforts, despite a lifetime of planning and saving and doing without, she's come to the twilight of her years without enough to live on?  What if she's only working the register because she has to make rent?  Or prescription money?  What if the system she counted on to take care of her, the system she supported from her earliest working life, no longer supports her?
   I didn't have the courage to ask, I couldn't even imagine how to broach the subject.  'Excuse me, ma'am, but has the social safety net betrayed your expectations?  Are you working here because you have no other option?'
   I've saved quite a bit over the years.  I'm gonna need to save more.

RIP, Comic Books

I collected comics for a long time.  A very long time.  I was 10 when I started collecting instead of just picking up the odd issue from the spin rack at the grocery store, but I'd been reading comics since I could read.  Literally.  The first issue I remember specifically taking home and reading (and writing in) was Justice League #89, from 1971.  Since then I've collected many, many, many long boxes, I think 38 or 39, all packed full.  I have a history with the medium, is what I'm saying, I'm the guy the comic store clerks call 'sir.'

But I don't collect comics any more.  I'm back to picking up the odd issue here or there, as I used to do when I was six.  No more loyal following, no more regular Wednesday trips to the comic book store as I used to do for years.  I'm done.  The passing of an era.  Nothing is constant but change, and all that.

Why?  Because the medium is dying.  Slowly.  Agonizingly.  Pitifully.  Like watching a slug you've poured salt on.  The circulation for a hugely-successful title these days would have qualified as a cancellation twenty years back.  There are several reasons for this demise, all of them caused by short-sightedness and poor management decisions.  I'm only too happy to share them with you:

1.  There's no point for new readers to come on board.
   I can follow the story lines, but that's because I'm as old as the creators and I have the same history they do.  But new readers?  They're lost.  It's like hanging out with a different group of friends who talk in nothing but in-jokes.  Sure, you'll understand a little bit, but it'll mostly pass you by.  Take a newbie to a comic shop - assuming you can coax them in - and hand them any current Marvel or DC issue.  See if they can make heads or tails of it.  They can't, I guarantee you.

2.  There's nowhere for kids to 'come across' comics.
   Aside from being hostile to any new readers (above), which includes kids, there are no places for kids to find comics.  When I found comic books I was passing time at the magazine counter in the grocery store, waiting for my mother to finish shopping.  I saw this primary-colored splash, at my eye-level, and I was hooked on an addiction that lasted four decades.
   Try to find a spin rack now.  Go ahead, try, I'll wait here.  Didn't find one, did you?  Because there aren't any.  To 'come across' comics now, kids have to make a trip to the comic store.  The dark, smelly, unfriendly comic store, where fat scary beardos and maladjusted goobers make sure only their own kind feel welcome.

3.  The inmates run the asylum.
   When I first found comics the artists and writers were, by and large, first- and second-generation creators.  These were men (mostly) who invented the genre, and who had educations and life experiences outside of creating comic books.
   Now, we have people creating comics who have only read comics.  They may even have a degree in 'sequential art,' which is a higher-ed term for comics.  These people are fourth- and fifth-generation comics readers, who devour pop culture like the insubstantial dross it is, and regurgitate it into their creations.  They're not creating stories, they're creating comic book stories, and they're doing it through the narrowly-focused lens of their own shallow learning.
   This point explains the first two, above.

4.  Corporations.
   Make no mistake, corporations have always been a dirty part of the comics scene, just ask Siegel and Shuster's families which company cheated Superman's creators for decades.  But, until very recently, the parent corporations, while greedy and deceitful, have largely left comics to themselves on the creative front.  Now, however, Disney owns Marvel and Warner Bros. has discovered that it owns DC, and the corporate meat hooks have sunken in.
   Even five years ago, you could walk into a comic shop and find all sorts of amazing work in the majors, let alone the indies.  Now?  Marvel is all about the Avengers and DC is all about the Justice League.  And that's it.  Movie tie-ins and merchandising, nothing else.  All creativity and risk-taking has been squeezed out of the medium by soulless, gray bean-counters.  The worst thing is, the bean-counters think the public can't tell what they're doing.
   If I've learned nothing else during my tenure on this planet, I've learned two things:  health care should never be for-profit, and multinational conglomerates should never let marketing decisions drive creative processes.  Sadly, both these things are the reality we have to live with now.

These are the reasons the genre has passed me by, and they're also the same reasons comic books are dying.  I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that within five years - unless things change drastically - the print versions of comic books from the Big Two will be gone.  Marvel and DC, driven by moron MBAs who think they know business but only really know PowerPoint, will switch to digital-only distribution.  Which will exacerbate the four points I made above, and hasten the demise of their business.  This will lead to the death of comic book stores, but will also lead to a new flowering of the genre for independents.  Ten years from now, I hope, I'll see spin racks back in the grocery stores.
   Fingers crossed.

My Guitar Year - Week 1- Jimmy Page, Jr.

I have it.  My new thing for this year.  Last year it was a book a week, which was fun and instructional and inspirational.  But reading isn't a new skill for me, I've been reading since I was four.  That's a lot of ink under these fingers.  I decided for this year I needed to learn something new.  Completely new, a skill I had not mastered before.

So I'm going to learn to play the guitar.

Yup.  The old six-string.  Acoustic.  I went to Guitar Center and bought one because they had them on sale.  It's definitely not the best one in the store - made in China - but for beginner like me it's perfectly fine.  It even comes with a bag.  Not a case.  A bag.
   Full disclosure, in third and fourth grade I played the cello.  Badly.  In college I learned how to play the clarinet, for a month of Jan Term.  So I'm not a stranger to playing an instrument.  But I haven't played anything in a couple of decades and I was no good when I last did.
   Second full disclosure, I got the idea for playing guitar from my friend Mike.  He's been saying for the past three years (at least) that by the end of this year (2011, 2012, 2013, etc.) he was for certain going to learn how to play the guitar.*  He tried to get me in on it and I refused.  Until now.  Ball's in your court, buddy.  Let's see who gets groupies first.

Here's my plan:
1.  Don't take lessons, at least not at first.  I want to noodle around with it, get on YouTube and learn from the ground up.  The best guitarists learned by doing, I need to emulate that.  Lessons maybe after the Summer Solstice.
2.  Do at least half an hour every day.  Should be easy enough.  It'll cut into my book reading/ writing time, but, honestly, I could easily eliminate half an hour of TV from my schedule and not miss it a bit.
3.  Learn music theory on the mean streets.  And by 'mean streets' I mean the Internet.  Music is math and math is music.  I'm pretty decent at math, maybe I can translate that to music.  Plus, I have a friend who's a PhD in Music, so if I get stuck I know who I can talk to.
4.  Figure out my style.  I'm really not certain what kind of player I want to be, or even the kind my fingers and brain are suited to be.  Joe Satriani?  Chet Atkins? Eddie Van Halen? Les Paul?  BB King? I have no idea where I'm headed with this, but I'll figure it out.
5.  Learn how not to suck.  I'm sure there will be suckage a-plenty for the first few months, but after a while I should improve.  I was a pretty awful actor at first, too, and then I got good.  It just takes practice.

I'll post here at least once a week with progress notes.  The pressure should also keep me from quitting.  See you next week.


BTW - If you don't know who Jimmy Page is, shame on you.  No, he's not the father of Ellen Page - I'm fairly certain - he's only one of the best guitarists ever and the force behind Led Zeppelin.  If you don't know Zep, then... man, you might be beyond help.  

* in case it's not clear, he has yet to touch a guitar, let alone learn to play one