Resubmitted

[Axanderdeath]

1. A father and son TALES OF LANDING
####1####
Jack Jiggers was a short fat sixty year old with a gray balding head of hair. A set of blue eyes that beamed out anger and he was known as a mean old bastard, as these types generally are known. But in Jack’s big balding head which incased his demented brain things were different. If only people could look beyond his rough exterior and in to his soul, which he thought was boundless with deep and profound thoughts. Of what? Jack didn’t know that but he use to. He owned a bar, which did not help matters (Fat short balding man that works and owns a bar. He was like an Archie Bunker type characters in many peoples eyes.) “Jack’s” was everything but a nice place to take your son on his wedding day for the reception, or your family, or even the town slut.
He (Jack sr.) rented out a large hall. It was up town and in a nice neighborhood. Jiggers sr. stood there in the doorway of the big hall with all the smile he could muster, every last bit of it. No one was showing up. His own son said they’d all be there by 9 o’clock pm and it was 12 o’clock by the time sr. called it quits and went home. Jack and his son were not doing what you call ‘TALKING’ much lately. Just a short phone call here and there to make sure the other was not dead.




On the way home he passed by an old bum on his left hand side that he noticed. Grey old beard, yellow teeth that looked odd with his oddly likable smile he was wearing an old professor’s jacket, Suede patches, and all looking up in to the sky, but at what? Who knows…? Jiggers kept looking at the old vagabond bastard until the bum said:
-Jack?--Jack was surprised a bit because he did not know any bums. Or at least he thought he did not.
-How do ya know me?
-The bar. -- Of course the bar. All kinds of old fucks went in to Jiggers bar. “Cheapest beer in town” read the sign out front, which was a lie but brought in customers, Jack dug into his pockets and pulled out a bill and handed it to the man, but to his surprise the man refused:
-No no jack, jack no.--The man said. Yellow flecks of something popped out of his mouth-where you headed? -- The bum asked.
-Home.
-Is the bar open?
-Yes.
-Why are you not there?
-Wedding.

-Who’s? -- Jack thought. Do I want to get friendly with this old bum? Business would certainly be as good as it was, if not better, if his bar did not have bums all around pasted out in the corner yelling and pissing themselves! If the bums were not around maybe he could have had his sons wedding reception at his bar. A large pain hit Jacks heart. A large awesome pain that turned to rage and he tackled the old bum to the ground and started beating him, and beating him. Left rights knees elbows the whole fucking sha-bam, and he was getting little resistance. The old bum-head bouncing off the ground. Jack just kept going and going beating and even pulling out some elbow drops from the wrestling he watched on TV. After his raging spasm was over jack was worried. Oh shit this old bum could be dead, he thought. This is what worried him, naturally. He was worried about himself his own dead soul. Why have I done this-my stupid anger!—Jack yelled out to the night air. Fist swinging blood coursing through his veins. Temple pulsating, head, all of it, hurting.
####2####
Jack Jr. was tall and young had black hair and a rich wife. His new wife and jr. were somewhere out in the countryside. After having “honeymooner’s sex” he looked out to the lake from the porch. The night was cool which was nice since the days got so hot. It was the hottest summer for a good while. A good while.


His new wife sally lay out on the bed. She had gotten a little drunk and was no good for any thing but lifting arms and dropping them. Or making her arms do dancing type movements, and that sort of thing Jack jr. had a little time to himself. He guessed that was normal for honeymooners, in a bed and breakfast, out by a lake on a cool summer night. A good time to think.
Think about what he had gotten himself in to a marriage. The word made him cringe slit his eyes and spit. Slap his hand on his thigh (like some kind of misogynistic cowboy) and yell goddamn then keel over. Was there any chance of any one else? Anything else but going along the course that this meant? This, marriage the word made him sick. It was sick! There was a knock on the door. Jack answered.
The small cowering maid stood there her hair pulled back. Slender and young dressed in a maid’s uniform, but there was something nun like about her, it and her eyes almost bursting out of her head with shyness:
-Sorry mister Jiggers but it is your father on the phone. He says it is urgent.
-It always is. --Jiggers said and the maid’s face went to the ‘sad for you, but not really-suck it up’ face. –Where do I take it?
-Down the hall and to the right mister Jiggers. -- Jiggers walked down the hall covered with pictures of old women sewing and men with guns. A picture of a black lab it was nice. Jiggers jr. thinking the whole time that his father was probably drunk and wanting
Geoff Parsons to chew him out about not showing up for his reception that sr. had thrown or tried to throw for him. But why should he show up for him, jack sr. Dad…
-Jack how was the wedding.—sr.was biting his lip and jr. could tell over the phone line. The maid was cleaning the wall with a jerry cloth.
-Good dad! Look sorry I didn’t show up but sally’s parents had rented a big club and… Jack sr. Interrupted:
-Jack if any one asked I was with you okay?—sr. sounding like a gambler with debts.
-What?
-I was with you okay?--sr. said in his fatherly tone jr. Hated his irresponsible father’s fatherly tone.
-What happened dad? A bar fight get out of hand?
-Jack this ones important it’s not likes other times… A man could be dead.
-Really. -- Jack thought that his father had this coming. He knew that he did. -Sure dad no problem.
After that jack jr. hung up the phone, and did his best to forget the whole thing went water skiing with his new wife out on a rented boat fished for sharks and whale watched on the coast thought not one bit about his father the whole time. In the movies when there’s a montage of people getting older-most notably in Good Fellas when it’s the gangsters and their wives having a good hooray back in the days of luxury? You understand? Well, that is what this felt like to jack jr. It lasted a month or so.
Geoff Parsons
He also Made his wife do little ape movements, scratching under the arms and what not when she was asleep this kept him happy.
####3####
It was all over the news one morning. ‘Man found beaten bloodily and savagely destroyed and left for dead.’ Everyone was disgusted and could not stop talking about it. Wanting to find out more about it to express their utter disbelief and to say ‘how could someone?!’ The news made a couple full days of news out of it, solid. Then some president was killed and no one cared any more for a bit. But the police cared. And Wolfe, one who cared maybe the most, wanted to find the ‘bum killer’ as dubbed CNN. He stayed up all night in his shabby apartment watching American Psycho to try to get in to the killer’s head. Not all the cops were as dim witted as Wolfe though, so while Wolfe was taking advantage of no late fees at his movie store a rookie talked to a lady that lived near by the crime scene and she said she had seen the whole thing. Wolf had an eyewitness. Wolfe took her out to lunch, made several advances on her and then got a description. Then used 11 or 12 lines from his ‘hard nosed cop come-on line book,’ from the big screen; written by some balding guy with glasses that was as skinny as a post “Almer Shmiging” his name I think. The ladies always hated him and thought he was a chauvinistic pig, but they never came back. That was the problem the lines only half worked for Wolfe.



Wolfe about forty a comb over and a huge, extremely huge extremely pores humongous nose sat at his desk with is gun strapped around his shoulder and around his waist. Every one else took their guns off while in the cop shop. It was kind of an unspoken rule. Wolfe years ago was a real good cop tough and sharp. But as it goes with good cops the lure of sex and booze destroyed him. He hung around too many blond reporters gave too many interviews and finally became a shell of the man he once was. But this case was a special one for Wolfe. The bum that had been killed he had known. Put him in the Drunk tank many times. Wolfe and that old bum were each other’s shrinks and had a bond that this ‘bum killer’ had taken away.
Wolfe sits smoking, brooding, and sad sadistically stupid but secure in his job. Wolfe sits like a 13-year-old smoking a cigarette trying to look like the star in the film trying to play the role of the renegade cop chip on shoulder type. Wolfe is going to get his man. The evil son of a bitch!
#####4#####
A knock comes on the door. Jack sr. comes up to the door in a ratty old pair of boxers, plaid he opens the door so the chain caught the nose of Wolfe who is standing extremely close to the door like an over excited child:



-Hey Wolfe how are things going? -- Wolfe and Jack sr. are old friends of course. -Hope your not here on business Wolfe. -- Jack said smile on his face. If it was Wolfe looking for the ‘bum killer’ jack thought he was surely be in the clear.
-No no jack. I was wondering if I could borrow a pair of jeans?
-Why?
-I need to go plain clothed. Get with the people. -- This was laughable first of all that Wolfe had said ‘get with the people’ and secondly because Wolfe had been on TV so many times he could walk down the street in goalies gear and get recognized. But what was the harm jack thought.
-Sure--. Jack threw about three pairs of old ratty jeans on the floor after a bit of rummaging of course. -Take your pick Wolfe. -- Wolfe did. Everything Jack sr. owned was ratty, he was a ratty man. Most men get ratty at some point in their lives.
Later that day Jack jr. was coming over and Jack sr. wanted to clean up a bit. Make the impression, which sr. thought was true, that he had been cleaning up his life. He returned all his beer bottles and got about 70 bucks bought a ten dollar bottle of whiskey that cost 23.96$. Vacuumed combed his hair and masturbated in to the mirror after he was all spiffed up. He loved him self all clean-shaven and combed up. Jiggers sr. was a strange man…



The plan was to tell jack jr. every thing. Make the apologies that he knew he should of made years ago. The plan was planed because he could be going away for a long time, and did not want to lose his only living family member. He was going to tell jr. every thing. Lay all his faults on the line and in this somehow come up with a way to guilt the boy in to giving his dad a solid alibi. Booze always helped jack sr. act. He was getting ready, anticipating.
And here was Wolfe the big dumb oaf of a man standing there in his boxer trying on sr.’s jeans. Luckily for sr. homosexuality was not an issue for him and his son no scaring thing between sr. And jr. with that big naked Wolfe though was repulsive and stupid. Generally most people that are exposed to all of us by TV become Phony and not that fun to be around or interesting jr. thought this and ignored Wolfe one of Sr.’s old buddies:
-You mind Wolfe?—sr. said opening the door-I want to talk to my boy.
-Oh yes.-- Wolfe put on a pair of sr.’s pants and left the room head down, and up bobbing in the stupid world of small thoughts, and delusions of competence, that was detective Wolfe as he left.

Father and son laughed at detective Wolfe a moment. Jr. looked stronger than the little weak kid that had left home so many years ago. jr. looked in his old room:
-Place has not changed much. -- He looked at his father. He was not so bad he thought just a sad sorry old man. They argued a bit about the wedding and the sr. told jr. about the murder he had committed. Jr. reluctantly agreed to not say anything. He felt bad looking in his old room as he left his father’s apartment, it had not changed a bit it was all the same. Pictures of playmates and porno stars his VCR.
2. Wolf detecting work
####1####
Wolfe sat at the café sipping on a coffee’. The jazz music was playing and Wolfe had his hair slicked back (this was a hard maneuver with his bald spot.) He would have been nonchalant 50 years ago, maybe, at least until you talked to him.
He was talking to Patty Albright from the 6 o’clock news. She considered her self a hard-hitting journalist. And her producers considered her a dumb blond. And jack sr. masturbated to her each installment of the news. Wolfe and Albright were old friends. Albright got her first big time jig with interviewing Wolfe, back when Wolfe only gave interviews once in a blue moon. This was about Wolfe and Albright’s 16th interview:
-Wolfe what do you know about the killer? -- Wolfe smiled.


-Well patty you know I can’t divulge that information this early in the investigation. -- This is where patty shined.
-Well inspector Wolfe perhaps one of the viewers has information on the killer’s where abouts? You know and does not know it, and will have their memory jogged by your thoughts, description, you know? -- Wolfe looked about uneasy, and said he had to make a phone call.
Wolfe ran to the washroom and took out his cell, sat on the toilet and called the station:
-Captain I have a question.
-Yes Wolfe. -- The caption said putting Wolfe on speakerphone and calling (motioning with his hand) the rest of the cops in to the office to hear the pathetic ness of Wolfe’s questions.
-Well cap it is this interview…
-What Wolfe I told you not to do anymore of those. -- The caption said smiling at one of the younger officers that had just come in the office.
-Well it’s Miss Albright.
-Have you tagged her yet?
-Well. -- Wolfe smiled thinking about thinking about Miss Albright’s breast bouncing the night before, when he was watching her on the news, his eyes closed and biting his lip on

the sofa.-that is not what this is about captain. She is asking if I can give any description of the killer. She says that some of the viewers may know something.
-Go for it Wolfe.-- The captain said, and then hung up the phone, and said to the crowd of officers.-he really thinks this is a big case. The poor fuck. -- All the officers had a good laugh at Wolfe’s expense. The captain soon after put up a poster in his office that read ‘don’t believe the hype!’ No pictorial helpers, it was one of those stupid office inspiration posters like Happiness is a journey not a destination and some one is driving a car in the picture.
The interview aired that night and the description of Jiggers was out (the description being very good. A man in his 60’s resembling Archie Bunker. Over weight balding live in the area where Jack lives.) The rest of the interview was really small talk. The interview at one point was small talk about the weather. News was slow that week, the president was from a country far away that had been killed (earlier I mentioned that a president was killed that that stopped the CNN “bum killer stories”,) and the whole thing aired. ‘If not about here it is not really real.’
--the North American public.
Wolfe did not think that the interview would blow his cover. Criminals don’t watch the news. Not killers, thought Wolfe. All killers did was read books like ‘catcher in the rye’ and the ‘zodiac killer’ or ‘American Psycho’. Wolfe went from café’ to café’ looking for some one reading one of those books. He spoke to lots of high school kids
Geoff Parsons And they acted quite defensive. It seemed that this ‘bum killer’ might be part of a deeper conspiracy, far greater than he once had thought. Wolfe’s hunches were way off, all the time.
####2####
A knock on Jigger's door came at about 7:30. Jiggers was in a good mood after watching the news, and finding out since he never had read catcher in the rye he was probably in the clear for the murder he had committed. It was Wolfe:
-Come in Wolfe. -- Jiggers sr. said. With a big smile, and open arms.-come in detective please. -- Wolfe walked in, with jack’s pants under his arm. Wolfe evidently had gone back to his suits.-what brings you by Wolfe? I just saw you on the news. This killer. A real nut eh Wolfe?
-Yes. -- Wolfe said sternly.-I am returning these pants. Sorry about the egg. Damn high school kids. -- There was a lot of egg all over the ass of his pants.
-What happened?
-Just work.
-Okay. -- Jack said with a chuckle of non-caring.
-Come have a beer jack. -- Wolfe said.
-Sure. -- Said jack. What could happen, jack thought, what could happen?


After a silent walk down to Jack’s bar Wolfe and jack sat at the bar. Jack ordered two whiskies and Wolfe ordered a club soda, and a beer. Wolfe poured half the beer into the soda something he had been doing all of his life. It was strange and jack had never seen any on else do it. He never tried it, it was stupid really, but that was Wolfe stupid.
-What’s up Wolfe? -- Jack said. -You only go out for a drink when something is bothering you, what is it girls, that interviewer? Eh, how she in the sack?-- Now you might think a police officer would get angry at that, fuck, any one would, police officer to pimp, but not Wolfe.
-That is the problem jack.
-What?
-I think I am compromising my work for her, telling her too much.
-No way Wolfe, any way…-- A person at the end of the bar was reading catcher in the rye. Jack tapped Wolfe on the shoulder. -Wolfe looks at what that guy’s reading. -- Wolfe looked and smiled and got up out of his chair. Wolfe raised one finger like he was pointing at the ceiling and snuck up behind the 20 something guy with catcher in the rye and tapped him on the shoulder and started:
-How’s the book. -- Wolfe muttered staring at the man.
-What?-the man hesitated because of the weird look Wolfe was giving. - Oh good. I have read it before, it’s good-- The man turned and put his head back in the book. Wolfe looked over at jack with a smile on his face that seemed to say, ‘look at this guy?’
Geoff Parsons
Wolfe grabs the man by the neck. And starts to yell:
-Listen where you on the night of august 11th? The man started saying ‘what the fuck are you doing man, what the fuck I do wrong with you?’-- The bartender (Tommy_) looked at jack.
-Jack what is your cop friend doing in this bar? We can’t have this in the bar.
-Let him be Tommy. He is working. He’s a cop. -- Wolfe starts shoving the man’s face in to the bar and yelling ‘where were you where were you?!?!’ Jack stands up and says:
-Call the cops. Tommy, call the cops. -- Tommy was already dialing when jack said this.
3. Not to forget
****1*****
Jack did not hear or see Wolfe for a while after that. The bar business was slow. It was getting cold. There was no tourist population any more. The sad music blurred out in the bar old blues kings like bb king and gg Allen. Jack sr. sits behind the bar most nights reading crime mystery novels, and book titled anger management for dummies.
The kid that Wolfe had beaten up had sued the Bar and after that ‘Jack’s’ was seeing some hard time. Jack him self was starting to feel the remorse for killing a man seeping in to his daily thoughts. He started to open the Bar later and later. He drank more

And more. He combs his hair and masturbated less and less. His life was becoming an old sad cycle of drunken sleep and occasionally orders food, like Pizza or Indian.
Jack’s son was out all over the country smooching with the upper class world, of his new wife’s family. He did not think about his father, and had forgotten about all the ‘shit’ that was spuing out of his father’s mouth a couple days after the wedding was over. Jack jr., quite by accident walked in to ‘Jack’s’ on December 15th 2004. Tom waits was on the beat-box in the corner, which was the sound system for ‘Jack’s’ since they had to sell the old one. Jack jr. and sr. were astonished to see each other. Sr. looking down and pouting and jr. felt that he had to go over and talk:
-what’s up dad?--jr. said looking at his father-you look good.--he put his hand on his sullenly drunk father’s shoulder that was slumped over the bar-Jack!--jr. said thinking that saying his father’s first name would do it (break him out of his drunken blank stared trance) and it did. Jack sr. put his head up and took a look around d the bar. He saw his clientele were as sad and sleepy as he was and then looked at his son:
-Son! What brings__ gad you a-around Theese pars?-- Jr. looked some what less then impressed by his farther attempted at the English language, but plays around:
-Was just in the neighbor hood dad, you know thought I’d say hello.
-Thasa boy-sr. says, so obviously not going to remember anything about the conversation in the morning, and probably not even remembering that he saw his son, and jr. knowing


this took out his not book and jotted down his phone number, he and his father were not in touch, and put it in his father’s pocket with a note:
DAD YOUR SON WANTS YOU TO CALL SOME TIME__SOBER>>
922-684-7863
****2****
6 months after Wolfe got the case failing to get any new leads aside from the one that the beat cop gave him; the captain told him he was off the case. This made Wolfe angry, but before I get in to what was said at that time let me explain the relationship that Wolfe and Rex the bum had. Rex is the Name of the deceased.
Back in the late 60’s when a lot of kids just got up and went (Just Go! Or Going!), Rex did the same at this time. He just never could stop. He never had money and they did not want him in the states. He never left Canada. He’d go from east to west and then west to east always ending up in Landing City for the summer.
The thing that got Rex going was some girl name Sophia. He had loved her and she had not and he could not stick around and see his X best friend Jack kiss and kiss her.
Wolfe was not all that good with women and Rex was good at finding people weakness and exploiting it. The result was Rex convincing that it would not help Rex’s life if Wolfe put Rex in to the slammer over night, and really that Rex could
Geoff Parsons
Lend Wolfe some Knowledge about women. By the end of some nights Wolfe would have bought a bottle of wine and the two of them would sit in his police car and talk and drink.
Rex left every September or so for the west coast and warmer weather and it became a tradition for Wolfe to drive him out to a good hitch hiking place to drop him off.
But back to conversation between Wolfe and the chief, the captain about Wolfe being off the case:
-Wolfe come in the office please.--the captain said, seeing that Wolfe was using the begging of his 6th month of investigation of one bum’s death playing a video game on his cell phone.
-What is up cap.?--said Wolfe, almost too much like the Okie kid in old yeller when his ‘paw’ said he had to kill ‘the best gad darn dog in the west.’ It pained the chief to do it. As much as he made fun of Wolfe he did love and respect him as a human being.
-In the office Wolfe!--he said feeling like George at the end ‘of mice and men.’ It had to be done.
-is this about the coffee’?--Wolfe had made a batch of coffee without changing the filter. And the chief had had a cup of “murky shit water and cream!” Wolfe got the hung over anger captain’s yells.
1W1

-Wolfe this has nothing to do with the Coffee. How long have you been on Rex’s case?--Wolfe looked down at his legs, and noticed his fly was undone, he zipped it up.
-I don’t know? A couple weeks?--He looked up at his boss, Wolfe did.
-Rex was killed in august Wolfe. What month is it? Wolfe?--Wolfe looked up at the calendar with the porno stars on it. The thighs read ‘March,” Wolfe made a dumb smile.
-Okay so I have been on it for months, so what?—Wolfe was getting a little angry- I have made a lot of progress!--Chief smiled.
-Wolfe you have beaten up about twelve people reading a book that is mandatory to read in high school. This station has 4 lawsuits to deal with because of your hunch that the killer is a fan of a book! And what else have you done? Wolfe I know that you knew this Rex, but really, come on the guy was a bum?--Wolfe stood up tears in his eyes and tore off his badge, which was quite difficult and The chief had to fight off a smile, turned and left. Then the chief to help Wolfe’s ego yelled after him.
-your working to hard you need a couple days OFF that’s all, your too close to this case. Your of the case Wolfe!--Chief knew that Wolfe loved all that cliché’ shit. Wolfe, to the captain’s surprise, did not come back and argue.
#####3#####
Back in 65 Jack sr. started his studies at University. A BA of arts. He enjoyed classes and was a bright student. Going out to the bars and hitting on the younger hippie
Geoff Parsons Kids. Jack would always have a large crowd around him. Jack was a big Talker. He was slightly older than most of the other students and had read far more books and was somewhat of a free speaker. He wrote poetry and was good looking and this is a far fucking cry from present day.
One of the younger students who made an idol of Jack was Rex Loop-Hander, which was some kind of a weird French slash English name an abnormal blend indeed. Jack liked Rex but not for his Aw-ish glare but his girlfriend Sophia who thought not too much of Jack at first and coincidently not at the end either. She always had a conflicting theory on what ever dazzles University kids OF THE TIME. And we all know you want what is hard to get, you want to work for it, us humans. Even fish have to work for their nookie. Rex had no Idea that Jack (sr. obviously.) wanted his girl friend.
One time Sophia told Rex about the glances and hits that Jack was laying on her. Rex put it off as a kind of miss interpretation. Rex thought Jack was defiantly gay. The way he dressed screamed it. Most of the university kids at that time were wearing jeans and t-shirts but Jack walked around in shining new suits and slicked back hair. Jack was always raving about some intellectual utterances from the gay writers in New York, about Kerouac and his Beat boys.
So as jean and t-shirted Rex sat and watched Savvy suited Jack as jack wooed his women and swept her away from him with a smile and a poem, at some open mic coffee’


Shop ditty. Smiling with a soft marabous pack in his breast pocket and a sparkle in his smile.
Rex hit the road only top come back and finally dieing at the hand of the old fat ugly Jack. With out either of them knowing, who was who?
4. The story of a stolen love
####1####
Sophia and Jack both dropped out of university. The house Jack got was nice out in the suburbs. Shrubs and garden that Sophia very womanly took care of Jack working at a bar and writing for a news paper the first couple of years were grand in the way it all clicked and just worked in the way a dreamer’s dream would be. Jack and Sophia were much too cynical to be dreamers and laughed at the perfect, the very image of they hated, that was what they were they were the TV couple…
-fuck I hate using these provalactics!—Jack would say in the middle of sex and after the thousandth time Sophia was tired of it killing the mood. In came the fat belly. In came baby name books. In came Jack looking else where for sexual stimulus. In came coming home late to a pregnant, hungry, fat, and angry wife. In came drunkard husband. In came Jack jr.
Nights in smoky bars and café’s Jack’s on the make late at night, drinking and wooing and losing his love. Ya there was a baby at home, he’d say, but that does not mean that he could not have other relationships. This was the 70’s this was the sexual
Geoff Parsons Revolution and Sophia was at home looking after her over libido husband’s kid. The spiting image, and some times Sophia had to spit and yell just to keep from hurting his child. A provalatical mistake a mistake a did not want to put on not in the mood babies sure put you out of the mood! Sex and milk spurts out and jr. cries and god all you can think about is that little cheating bastard’s baby. And you don’t know him and he does not know you and you don’t know you. And the tree in the back yard and the yellow plastic rope a noose and Jack coming home drunk and finding a note from his wife saying:
Hanging out in the back yard, hun.
And she was. Have a whiskey and call the cops. Hold your kid. In came single parenthood.
####2###
Rex was in town. He went to the funeral. He was on acid. He saw her, floating above the grave. Sad and tired eyed. Saying:
-Should have been there. Rex, Jack, anyone…
Rex yelled sorry, and fell to his knees and cried. Jack stood there stone faced a hand on his shoulder of some one, he was a man. He proved it Jack jr. in his arms and he was the man and god damn her, selfish women, looked into jack jr. eyes.
-Some one get that bum out of here.—Rex was carried off like a junky doing the funky chicken. Tripping and falling in to a hobo depression watching trains cooking up the hobo’s grief and forlorn love of the sad and gone and never coming back. But there is
Geoff Parsons something romantic, comforting in the fact that he checked out for good at that moment, he had been dead for years when he died, for real that is.
The inspector from hell
####1####
Gloom in the morning and Jack sr. sifts through his grungy shirt pocket and find jr. note. Where is he? He is in the bar, and it is morning. There is a man passed out behind the bar. Jack kicks him. The mans lined face looks up to Jack and says:
-mmmah? What’s sa time?—Jack smiles a mean smile, and says.
-Get the fuck out of here, you got ten seconds.—the man hurriedly gets to his feel and out of the front doors.
It is around 7:30 am. Jack grabs a bottle of whiskey and opens it, takes a long drink right out of the bottle. Gags at the end. Turns on the bar’s TV. A commercial for the “memory buster’s books” are on TV. Sip the whiskey out of the bottle and watch the mock talk show with the kid from the partridge family selling a memory enhancing book. He makes several jokes that he can’t remember 1980 to 1990.
Jack looks down at the note (Jack jr. had left him a note when he had gone in to the bar by accident.) It is too early to call, and even if it wasn’t he does not know if he wants to. There is a knock on the door. Jack gets up and walks over to the door. A young man holds up a badge, and smiles. Glasses on a buzz cut, a real jack ass. Jack lets him in. Still swilling the whiskey:

-Hi I’m inspector Reginald.—Jack gets that old smirk up and running.
-hey I own this place, I m Jack.—Reginald smiles and jots something down in his note book.
-Jack, where were you on the night of august 11th?
-at my son’s wedding.—jack nods a bit, smug and drunk. Or maybe more like a child that will not let some other kid play with his toy. Yes that is it a pout nod type thing!
-okay. Is there any way I can reach him.—Jack crunched up the note from his son in his pocket. Looked at this young buzzed cut bastard smiling in an insinuating way, with his fucking dimply fucking face sr. though drunkly.
-We have not been in touch for a bit.
-why is that?
-Personal.
-What is this about?—Jack looked at the agent out of the corner of his eye while he took a long swill of whiskey. My toy, jack sr. says with his eyes.
-I think you know.—the detective or inspector says. The fact is he demanded to be called an inspector only.
-not really—jack smiles and then gags on the whiskey. It looks bad.
-don’t leave town is all. –that fucking smile.
-sure thing—jack said.
Old Wolfe must be off the case, thought Jack. He looked at the clock. It read 7:45. Jack took another swill of whiskey.
####2####
7:45 and the sun is rising over the water. People are looking out their windows to the man on there bench. He slept there last night. And now it is morning. It is his morning and theirs. It’s Miss Albright’s morning, and she is doing a story on the homeless and this 7:45 morning is going to be the cover story on the 6 o’clock news. The bums name is Henry and he used to be a teacher, and then his wife left him. The bum killer, Miss Albright asks what he thinks about it, and Henry says what are you talking about?
####3####
7:45 and Wolfe sits in bed and cries. 7:45 and Jack jr. eats a gourmet breakfast in some amazing restaurant. 7:45. 7:45 and Reginald the inspector in looking around the 6 month old crime scene. Reginald is on his first case, and later in the day he will be speaking to Wolfe. An idol of his. But now at 7:45 he looks around on the dead street in the dead city on the dead hour of 7:45AM, and then it is 7:46.
7:46 Jack sr. turns of the mock talk show with alcoholic child TV star host. Jack drinks more whiskey and thinks about turning him self in. Thinks about why he did it. There was something about that guy, he thought, something that bugged him. What was it? And the Jack flashed back to the café’ days and his wife. Rex! That poor bastard that he


had stole Sophia away from, he was at the funeral. It could not be the same guy. Jack had to find out.
Jack started to think, at around 7:47 that it would be hard to find out because of him being the killer. Who was he going to ask? At 7:50 he decided he could ask of Wolfe, but he was unsure if that was even wise. By 8:00am he was drunk on whiskey and forgot all about by the time it was 8: pm and he opened the bar and he was hung over.
####4####
Inspector Reginald walked into the hotel room. He had gotten the key from the front desk for 50 bucks. They were on the bed coiled together like horny snakes. All 4 or 5 of them. Two of the men stood up right away, and asked:
-what the fuck are you doing here?—dicks swaying in unison from the quick turn to their feet. Reginald’s threw some blankets for them and the directed his attention to one of the throbbing blonds on the bed.
-that is a beautiful girl.—Reginald said, desperately trying to think of something witty to say to accompany it like ‘it is a shame’ something or other, but nothing came to his mind.
-yha she is—one of the men said-now what the fuck are you doing in our room?—Reginald smiled and showed his badge-Have I done something wrong?—one of the men said and the other followed with a ‘yha?’


-do you have to ask?—Reginald said. He loved it when people were defensive right off the bat. He had walked in on these people having some kind of crazy sex party though. That would have been illegal at some point in history.-which one of you is Jack jr.? -I am-- said the taller and stronger one.
-Jack?—said one of the throbbing blonds.
-Jack can I talk to you in the hall for a moment?
-sure, just let me put on a pair of pants.—Jack jr. said scratching his head. Wondering what it was he had been caught for.
Jack Jr. stepped out side to see Reginald’s stupid smiling cop snicker.
-Alright what is it.—Jr. said tiredly.
-where were you on the night of august 11th?
-what? That was my wedding day.
-so where were you?
-my wedding and then my honeymoon latter that night.—jr. said looking nervously back at the blonds in the room.
-is your wife here to confirm that?—Reginald smiled a wry smile.
-no, she is not. Now what is this about? Did sally hire you?
-no. just was your father at the wedding.—Jr. remembered his father the day after the wedding.
-of course he was.
Geoff Parsons -do you know a man named Rex Loop-hander?
-can’t say that I do.
-thank you.—Reginald said to a slamming door.
####5####
Reginald p. Hardwig was an ambitious cop. Worked all the bad neighbor hoods, and enjoyed the danger. The force was lucky to have him. And with Wolfe doing such a bum job at finding the “bum killer” they decided to put Reginald on it to get it over with. It was Reginald’s first detective job, as a detective. He would not take the job unless he was aloud to refer to himself as inspector. It was stipulated in his contract.
Reginald’s friends, or the people that knew him, thought it no weird occurrence that Reginald became a cop. In high school he was a rat. If you were smoking a joint in the caves, the caves were some ground level windows on the out side of the science lab that had very good wind cover, and Reginald saw you? Well, you could be sure that the principal would be down shortly. Reginald was just another person you watched out for along with the teachers around school when doing bad things. He was hated by just about everyone.
Jack jr. did not remember him but he had gone to the same school as Reginald. Reginald did not recognize jr. with out jr. wearing his glasses and jogging pants. Which was regularly attire until jr. decides that he was going to make an effort to get girls. They
Geoff Parsons Both were nerds in high school. But the were the brand of nerds that did not even talk to other nerds. They both thought they were above everyone.
Jack sr.’s alibi worked out, but it was his son. Reginald had a hunch that if he asked other people that attended the wedding, that they may not remember sr. being there like his son did. It was April 5 2005…
Rain came down washing away the snow in April torrents of river like water streamed along the streets and the smell of it all coming to life. Earth worms being beating out of the ground, and dog shit becoming a potent odor and love not was in the air. It was the kind of day that you stay home in bed. The kind of day you watch a movie with a loved one. Or polish off a bottle of whiskey at an old sad dilapidated bar with nice booth seats. It was the type of day that your mother would let you stay home from school the type of day that a nice sad accordion would be playing to all ears in Pairs and that sort of thing. It was the type of day that if you had something on your mind you would feel like walking around out side with the rain drops assisting your thought and drenching your clothing.
It was the type of day that you stay home writing a book. It was the type of day that you’re supposed to go on like it is any other day, but you know something is different, or something is going to be different. Once the rain washes that appalling something away and the rain is gone and it is a shining new future.
5. Some kids got it rough!
Geoff Parsons
####1####
Jack jr. went walking in the rain. His father had killed a man. The same man that had brought him up out at that old house in the early days that’s when he loved his dad really. The ice skating the fishing, the ice fishing Jr. in the early years until the age of ten or so when they moved in to the crap apartment where sr. still lived jr. remembered the rope swing in the backyard. As jack got drenched from head to toe he sat on a bench and looked out a the swooshing cars, with the people inside doing a double take on him. His hair fell down over his eyes. His pants fell tight to the top of his leg and lose and dangling down at the bottom. A car was going to stop at any moment, and it would be his wife and everything would be alright. But deep down inside jr. knew that would never happen. This kind of wishful thinking was never answered by the Hollywood saving. Jr. could sit there and think how horrible it was and he never would be able to get out of his mind that that person would stop and save him. He began to think if he did not think about being saved it would happen. It could have been true but he never lost that thought in the bottom of his heart or at least that is what he thought.
How did it turned out like this? Booze. It came in to his head like a chorus of knowing quire kids singing on an x-mass commercial. “Drunk and angry/big punch daddy/rex died down on the dirt on august 11th.” Sang the festive little dorks sang in unison.
Geoff Parsons ####2#####
Sally. Sally was not that much help when Reginald came to ask about Jacks father:
-I never met the man.—she told him, inspector Reginald p. Hardwig.
-really. So he was not at the wedding? –the triumphant inspector!
-if he was I was not introduced to him. –not good enough!
-and what about the reception.—Sally smiled.
-well he could have been there I was way to far gone at that point. But Jr. has told me about his father. Really! His father.—the inspector looked at her like curious George does at everything.
-what do you mean by that Sally?
They were sitting in the newly weds home a white clean house with an all white in side white couch and floor and table, and not a speck of dirt.
-he is a drunk is all, jr.’s dad is. He had a really tough up bringing, I think. He doesn’t talk about it much.
-was he beaten or something?
-Maybe, but I heard about was that he was really annoying when he drank, jack sr. that is.
-Annoying?—The inspector said looking for more.


-yha—sally said not really knowing how to communicate with Inspector. He did look too geeky to be in her house.-annoying. Like he talked about stupid things, you know, said he loved jr. too much and said inappropriate things.
-that’s rough.—the inspector said jotting ‘Annoying father’ in his note book. He thanked Sally for her time and left after putting back on his boots at the front door that were soiled from the soggy ground.
####3####
On the way out of the neighbor hood The Inspector saw a man sitting on a bench in the rain. He pulled over and saw that it was Jack jr.
-Why so glum?—said the inspector, with genuine concern.
-nothing—Jr. sullenly like a child crying over the loss of a toy.
-Your going to catch a cold.—the inspector said opening the door.
-no one cares.—said Jr. looking down and pouting.
-sally is worried about you—the inspector lied. Sally did not mention where Jack was and it did not seem to care.
-she doesn’t care.—said Jack-she has another lover now.
-so do you, you have like 3 of them from what I can recall.
-yha, but they don’t care. She is in love with her lover, in love!.—the inspector then decided he was getting off topic, off what his job was about. He motioned Jr. in to the car. Jr. looked strained.
Geoff Parsons -well, come on get in I’ll give you a ride home.
The inspector drove the very wet Jack jr. to his front door and dropped him off to his hysterical wife.

-You can’t come in like that!—Reginald could hear the shrill voice a block away.
666. Death all around
####1####
-What was found on the body—Reginald said leaning in so the drunken Wolfe would pay attention.
-What? Oh five dollars or something like that.—Wolfe smiled.
-you knew him Wolfe, this rex.—Reginald said putting his hand on Wolfe’s shoulder. They sat in a dive bar. Not “Jack’s.”-so what did you find out?
-Well the killer is a fan of catcher in the rye.
-have you read that book?
-no.
-well Wolfe you have to be the only person that hasn’t. Really is that all you’ve come up with. No wonder you were taken off the case. Wolfe it is a very popular book, and has been for like 50 years or something.—Wolfe opened his mouth in shocked sadness.
-well killers don’t watching TV.—Wolfe sputtered out his idiotic knowledge.
Geoff Parsons
-what kind of a killer do you think were looking for Wolfe. Really I don’t think we’d still be here if you did not do those interviews with that stupid reporter. Now the police have to find some bum’s killer. It is a waste of tax payer’s money. The only reason any one cares is because of one stupid human interest story. Do you know what I think human interest stories do? They make people care about things that otherwise they would not
give two shits about.—Reginald red in the face.-Wolfe, what about the description of the killer? It sounds like a friend of yours from gentleman’s hockey league probably did it. Jack Sr.—Wolfe gave the same shocked sad look as before.
-Jack sr.? Really. You ought to go back to the beat. –laughing.
-Wolfe I respect you but really man. A woman gave a description of Sr. to the note and he lives a block away. And “Jack’s” is one of the only bars in town that let’s people, aside from here, like rex in. I think that rex was bugging jack about the bar and Jack sr. just snapped.
-this is who they are replacing me with?—Wolfe said tears in his eyes-Jack is a friend. You’re wrong, I know my friends. Sure Jack may be a drunk and a jerk, but murder? You can’t be a cop as long as I have and not be able to read people. Jack is innocent. I am telling you it was a catcher in rye fan, like the fellow that killed Lennon.
-Lennon was famous, this was a bum. This guy was no kind of a phony, bums are the farthest things from phonies they wear their fucking lives on their sleeves!
Geoff Parsons Reginald was not getting anywhere with Wolfe so decided to go home and rest. He sat in his lazy boy and looked at the TV. The TV was broken but that did not stop him from staring at it from time to time. Force of habit you could say. What was there to watch anyway right now his life was more interesting than anything on TV. He knew that this guy Jack was the killer but he nothing but the lady that Wolfe made passes to go on.


Really if it went to court, and even if Jack got a legal aid lawyer he could get off the charge.
Reginald went into the kitchen and made some Mr. Noodle—chicken—and sat in the chair and watched the water boil.
####2####
Jack sr. ran out of booze and money and had the hang over of his life. He walked around with the demons of his life around him. His wife, and now this bum his wife and the bum. There was some connection. His wife! His wife and a BUM! The bitch he thought.
Jack always even when he was sleeping with the other women loved his wife, deep down in that profound mind of his. When he died so did the deepest and most


Thoughtful part of him. Jack could not talk anymore. People liked him, and people got hurt. His son got the brunt of that.
Jack jr. played hockey and Jack went for that, but then his kid, jr., started to get in to reading. This something told Jack sr. deep down inside was no good. You know enough and you can think away anything. Jack sr. thought that all thought did was make people get hurt, and all hurt did was make people die, and death made people hurt, and at this time hung over and sick and thinking about things he did not want to have to, like a murder he committed a couple months ago, well he decided to find some things out for him self.
The phone rang and Wolfe picked up:
-hello?
-Wolfe? It’s Jack.
-Hi Jack. Oh, did you kill Rex Loop-Hander?—jack froze. Loop-Hander. He saw that little dink and his wife, and he had not thought about it for a long time.
-who is this Loop-Hander?
-Rex Loop-Hander was that Bum that was killed.—Jack hung up.
Jack sr. wrote something on a piece of paper and put it on threw counter of the bar. Got in taxi:


-The bridge.—Jack sr. said in an even and straight forward voice. The dark skinned man in the front said.
-cha go in don deer fo? Ganaa’s jump oft a somin?—Jack squinted his eyes.
-sure. What ever, just take me down there okay.
Taxi pulled up to the side walk and the cabby stop turned around, said:
-dat a gonna bees fid-tea dalaw’s.—Jack did not pay and started for the side of the bridge climbed up on the guard rail. The cabby stopped him climbing over the orange pipe. He saved him from plummeting to his death. Hanging there Jack said:
-Why did you save me?
-ya o me fid-tea dalaw’s.—with a smile. Jack paid the man. Ten minutes later, after bumming a smoke off a stranger he jumped off the bridge to his death. His last words:
-Hey man can you spare one of those,--handed a cigg- thanks buddy.
####3####
Tommy the bar tender opened jack’s bar of the same name each morning. He found Jack note.
Sophia had a little love.
I crossed their world, I own their love.
I broke their harts and killed their life and did it all so I could ruin it for all…
The kid
Geoff Parsons The kid, the kid, the kid.
Jr. gets the bar.
Jack sr.
And then there was a little drawing of a sad faced stick man. Tommy always finding these little drawings and poems around the bar in the morning after Jack drank up the last of the supply did not think much of it and threw it in the garbage can.
Two days later swimmers found the body at a beach. That fat old body had drifted a couple miles from town. It was a scientific wonder really. Jack jr. had a party, and sold the bar. Reginald got a new case, a real case, and Wolfe asked out Albright and eventually they got married. It was grand.
That night I sat in the bushes and watched. I saw jack on the way home, he passed by an old bum on his left hand side that he noticed. Grey old beard, a yellow smile.

Editor’s note.
I the editor—Pig Face Mac Gee have spoken to mister Parsons concerning the shitty ending of his story.
“Geoff why did you end where you ended in that story?” I asked, me being Mr. Pig Face Mac Gee. His answer?
“Well, fuck, I was going out with this girl friend and was getting drunk too much and we were fighting a lot and I got drunk and drunk again and then got completely depressed and then she left the country and I had to live in a homeless shelter for a month or so and lost everything!” He was quite drunk while speaking to me and kept making these eyes that were obviously not working at this good-looking woman in the

coroner. “Pig Face…” he said because that is what people call me “well what I mean is I could

Not finish it—but ---there is a point to it!” I asked him what, and he told me to look at the end one more time and I found it there in his story about the world today! His anger his views—not necessarily the character, or narrators. God bless the fact that there are writers out the Like GEOFREY ALEXANDER PARSONS!!!
Pig Face Mac Gee
Editor…

Story written--
By:Geoffrey Alexander Parsons

[Axanderdeath]

at least read for
4 A story of stolen love.....


geoff