Strings

Headline from foxnews.com: “Landlord out $24,000 in rent due to eviction moratorium, says tenants buying boats.” Once government is involved, the fraud is staggering. Officials never differentiate between those truly in need and those looking to score.

Snippet from an article at FN by Emma Colton: San Francisco “reported 119 shootings, both fatal and non-fatal, for the first six months of 2021, compared to 58 in the first half of last year.” Here’s a pic from yesterday. It’s not from a movie:

That’s enough of the sickening political scene. Here’s an excerpt from my rock n roll epic, Rising Star, which someone downloaded to Kindle last week. It’s well before the band breaks big, post-practice in one of the member’s garage. It’s a couple of minutes read:
At the finish they were perspiring profusely. Mike immediately went upstairs for beer.
“Open the door,” said Richie, fanning himself.
“Put your pants on first,” said Mitchell. “We don’t want to get nailed for indecent exposure — make that obscene exposure.”
“G’head, laugh at ya own jokes, smart guy. You need a second circumcision. Anybody got a microscope an’ tweezers?”
“When all else fails, resort to thousand-year-old junior high jokes.”
“Sometimes I think Hitler had the right idea.”
Although Mitchell did not react, Paul sensed his anger.
Mike returned and tossed each man a beer and a towel. They retired to the front steps, quietly cooling off in the pleasant summer night.
“Sure this’s okay with Rose’s parents?” said Paul.
“Yeah! Want me to get it in writin’?”
“We can use my garage too once in a while. I’ll clean it out tomorrow. We definitely should keep goin’ to the studio once a week.”
“Can’t we use ya basement no more, Mitch?” said Mike. “I’d love to get away from here once in a while.”
“Not right now. My father’s still pissed about me totaling the car. He refuses to believe it wasn’t my fault. He assumes I was stoned.”
“Were you?” said Paul.
“No. I don’t smoke that much pot any more. He’s paranoid because I left a joint on the bar once. He wants to teach me a lesson before it’s too late and I become another rock ‘n roll derelict. He won’t even let me use his car. I have to depend on Mister Straight-and-Narrow for a ride.”
Paul let the barb slide. “Least you know he cares about you.”
“It’s annoying because I wasn’t stoned. Besides, I know he’s driven with a few drinks in him.”
John rose. “I gotta get goin’.”
“Okay, man,” said Paul. “Day after tomorrow, seven-thirty. Sure it’s okay, Mike?”
Mike shook his head and muttered angrily to himself.
John opened the door of a Mustang parked at a hydrant nearby.
“How d’you like this guy?” said Paul. “He doesn’t have a phone, but he’s got a different ride every time we see him.”
“It’s not mine. A girl loaned it to me.”
“Which reminds me — you still interested in that waitress? She gave me her number.”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” said Richie.
“Yeah, right,” said Mitchell, “she’d go out with you — and the Beatles might get back together again.”
“Don’t you want it for yourself?” said John, leery.
“She wants you, man. It’s a little wet.”
He reached for his wallet, which was moist with perspiration.
“What about Mustang Sally?” said Richie.
“What she won’t know won’t hurt her.”
The others, except Paul, laughed. He regretted having surrendered the number.
“You should see what some of the pigs wrote ya,” said Mike softly, gazing over his shoulder lest his wife be listening. “Degenerate things.”
“Keep ’em with my compliments.”
“Gimme some of ‘em,” said Richie to Mike.
“What’re you gonna do — eat them?” said Mitchell, to the delight of the others.
They had another round. Soon Mitchell suggested it was time to leave. As Paul was about to climb into the van, he realized he hadn’t paid Mike. He bounded up the stairs and paused at the screen door, discouraged by the rancorous argument being waged inside. Suddenly it was obvious why Mike wanted to get away nights. He hoped the $50 would appease them.
“Sorry it’s wet, man. I forgot I had it.”
Mike was clearly embarrassed. He took the money without a word. Paul noted Rosemarie in the background. There was a tense, pained look on her face. His heart sank. He lowered his head and hurried away, as if speed would vanquish what he’d just witnessed. Unfortunately, Mitchell said nothing to divert his thoughts.

My thanks to the sweet elderly ladies who returned with another donation, this time books with a religious theme; and to Viktor, who bought a book on health in Russian; and to the gentleman who picked out a hardcover in that language; and to the woman who took home another; and to the woman carrying a blue rosary, who purchased Earl Mindell’s Vitamin Bible: How the Right Vitamins Can Help and 10,000 Dreams Interpreted: A Dictionary of Dreams by Gustavus Hindman Miller and Hans Holzer; and to the one who selected a kids book; and to the one who chose this:

My Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Vic-Fortezza/e/B002M4NLJE

FB: https://www.facebook.com/Vic-Fortezza-Author-118397641564801/?fref=ts

Read Vic’s Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza