Starting Tomorrow

I finally have enough of my new story written that I feel comfortable starting to put the chapters up on here. The first one will go up tomorrow. The next one will go up a week after and so on. I’m going to keep writing on it sporadically and I should be able to keep up with it going forward.

So, I hope you’re all ready to meet the Southside Protector.


Own your own home, they said. It’s so much better than renting, they said. You can do whatever you want to it, they said.

What they fail to tell you is the work that goes into it. Sure, there’s the little things that you know, like mowing the lawn during the summer. Unless you’re some asshole who can afford to pay someone to do that shit for you. I’m not that kind of asshole. I’m the poor kind of asshole.

Then there’s the optional things, like painting. So far, we’ve painted four of our rooms since we’ve bought our house. Baby E’s room was the first. It is now a bright pink (we’ve already told her that it’s staying that color until she’s old enough to paint it herself). Over the past month, we’ve painted most of our downstairs (kitchen, dining room, and living room). I don’t want to paint again for a very long time.

What really sucks, however, is when things break down and you have to fix them yourself. I, personally, have had to replace a faucet that was leaking. Thankfully, that’s a small job. What I’m going through right now, is not.

I am very fortunate. Not only do I have the best wife in the world, her dad is really awesome too. He’s a cool guy, plus there is not a lot out there that he can’t do. If there’s anything around the house, or on a car, that needs to be fixed, he can do it. I had never seen him attempt something that he did not figure out how to do it… until now. Although, to be fair, it’s not that he doesn’t know how to do it. It’s that he can’t get the equipment needed to do it.

It’s something that needs to be done. It’s not something that can be done cheaply. It’s all just one giant pain in the ass and I highly dislike it.

But, it’s still better than living in my old apartment.

On the Porch

I sat on the porch, idly passing the time away. As I sat there, an old man pulled up in an old truck. He made small talk with me. While he was talking, a cat jumped up onto the back bumper of the truck. It was too big to be a kitten, but too small to be a full grown adult. Bright orange fur covered the cat. I watched as it jumped up into the truck bed.

The old man finished talking and pulled away. I knew I should have told him about the cat, but he left too quickly. I put it out of my mind until the truck pulled back up a couple of minutes later. This time, the old man didn’t say anything. He just stopped long enough for the cat to jump back out.

As he pulled away, I noticed flames start coming from the truck bed. I jumped up and chased the truck, but it was too fast. It was soon out of view. I suppose that I could’ve called the police to warn them, but I didn’t. I just sat back down on the porch.

Then, a new car pulled up. The back window was open and the cat jumped through it. As soon as it did, the car pulled away. I thought this was odd, especially when it came back a minute later with the front seat in flames. The driver’s right arm was covered in a long sleeve shirt that was on fire, but he didn’t seem to notice. The cat jumped back out and the fiery car drove away.

I just let it happen this time. That decision seemed to work out as the same situation happened a few more times. A car would pull up, the cat would get in, they’d leave, the car would come back on fire, the cat would get out, and the car would leave.

Then, my daughter walked up to stand next to me. She ignored the flaming vehicles and asked me to make her something to eat. I walked inside, grabbed some pizza rolls out of the freezer, cut to the front of the long line of people waiting to use the microwave, and put her pizza rolls in it.

…. and that’s when I woke up.