Julie and Benjamin – Part 3

“You’ve done broken in to ma private property,” said the man with the rifle.

Benjamin and Julie stood staring at the figure. The lit cigarette in his mouth provided for the sole source of light in the shed. It was enough to reveal a foul interior – dead rats were hanging from the ceiling by their tails, and empty turtle shells covered the floor.

“What do you want?” said Julie.

The man chuckled. “All I wants is justice.”

“Justice?” said Benjamin.

“Yeah, ye know, justice! Two handcuffed law-breakers done break into my private property!”

“Just let us leave!” said Benjamin. “Please, sir!”

“NO!” screamed the man. “You don’t get to go.”

“Well what do you want?” said Julie.

“I wants to shoot ya, of course!”

Benjamin started to speak, but before he could get out a word his wife Julie shoved the shed door open and dragged him out, by the iron-chain handcuffs linking them together.

The shot boomed loudly, but the man missed. He fired a couple more rounds, but they escaped from his property alive and stopped to catch their breath on the sidewalk.

“That was close!” said Benjamin.

Julie punched his arm as best she could. “I hate you!”

“What? Why?” said Benjamin.

“You’re such a wimp! You would have let us die there!”

“Well we shouldn’t even be in this predicament in the first place! A police themed Halloween party, really? You made me steal regulation uniforms from the station for that? What’s the matter with you Julie?!”

Julie grew misty eyed. “I just wanted to do something fun. For once, I wanted to do something fun.”

Out of nowhere, three police cruisers pulled up and stopped on the pavement just short of them. The lights flashed brightly and one of them spoke over the loudspeaker.

“Get down on the ground! Get down on the ground!”

Julie sniffed, and started to lower. “Guess this is it then. This is where it ends.”

Benjamin looked at her, back at the cops, then back at his wife. “No.” He tugged the chain bonding them his way.

“What?” she said.

“GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!” Came the shout over the police speaker.

Benjamin smiled, then whispered. “Run.”

He bolted, and Julie followed behind. The cruisers burnt rubber to start after them.

“Benjamin!” Julie screamed. “How are you planning to get away? There are police cars covering the area, and police-in-uniform at the end of the street!”

“I have a way!” He said, yelling over the sound of their foot smacks. “We might die, but I think it could work!”

“We might DIE?”

The husband and wife continued their flight. The cruisers were right behind them.

PART 4, COMING SOON!

– Thomas M. Watt

The Writer of Words

The words the words the writer of words,

The one who lives for the nouns and the verbs.

Alone in his attic, gone to his room, thinking of something, a plot twist or truth.

The words the words the writer of words.

Prose doth he speak, knows what he knows, sees what folks doesn’t, see what folks done.

Thinking it always, see words less speak, teaching us something, writes what we read.

The words the words the writer of words.

Always he does, tinker his best, lays down the rules, opens his chest.

Let’s us all in, to that weird little mind, provides for us glimpses, of thoughts stuck in time.

The words the words the writer of words.

What is this talent to roll and to go. What is this desire to describe just one rose.

A man of the world? A man of the arts? A maker of stories? A thief of used plots?

What is his trait, why does he think. Why does it matter if we like what we read?

What is this passion? From where does it come? Secluded in nothing, promises to him none.

Not laughing funny, not getting laid, not getting read much, not getting paid.

Still he can’t sleep. Still he does write. Still his pen scribbles. Still he sees light.

Where is this end? At what tunnel he thinks? Does he not know that he’s working for free?

Find his reward, please show it to me! Tell me the prize to take on this disease!

Tell me for once, just give me one word, give me a reason this mans lives so absurd!

Well I’ll tell you reader, I’ll say what I know – The thought of not writing fills writers with woes.

For when pain does come, when life is unfair, there’s two kinds of escapes, addicts all do share –

One is through drugs, sex and bad things. The other’s through art, hearts raised to beauty.

For a man of the world does not see these two lines – he is a fool who thinks they’re both of one kind.

But I tell you something, for I have once seen – A man in his mind accomplish impossible things.

For hours spent thinking, writing fine lines, imagine the way to reach that pinnacle high.

How does that happen, to whom does it go? Who are these writers we have come to know?

They are the ones who persisted the best, they are the writers who pushed on from the rest.

Through all the rejection, the hatred and such, the loss of a lifetime, the miss of one’s touch.

Keep going forward, make that book great. Get that shit perfect, work through night’s late.

At the end of your life, on your death bed, would you rather have quit, or stuck it out to be best?

Is it not worth the struggle, not worth the strife, to see your own words, passed on through time?

I say it is, I say that I do, the words I do love you, now please love me too.

The words

The words

The Writer of Words

– Thomas M. Watt

Julie and Benjamin – Part 2

Julie and Benjamin sprinted away, shackled together by a chain-linked set of handcuffs. The police officer chased after them.

“I knew something like this would happen!” Said Benjamin.

“Well it’s hard to go unnoticed when you’re wearing handcuffs, Benjamin.”

The couple turned the corner and ran through a bush hedge into a backyard. The backyard was littered with bullet-holed beer cans and empty shell casings, along with a single rocking chair and a flaky wooden shed.

“In here!” said Julie.

“Are you crazy?” said Benjamin, as he tugged back his handcuffs and kept her from entering.

The sounds of approaching  sirens were accompanied by the shouts of, “Police, police!”

“Fine,” said Benjamin, practically dragging his wife behind as he kicked open the door. They slammed the door behind and found themselves engulfed in darkness. The cruisers could still be heard outside.

“This is all your fault,” hissed Julie.

“My fault?” said Benjamin. “It was you who talked me into your stupid plan!”

“Shut up.” Said Julie. “Just shut up. I hate you. I hate that I’m here with you. I hate that I ever married you.”

“Oh,” said Benjamin. “That hurts. That really hurts, Julie.”

“You’re not a strong man. You’re a coward.”

“Well you’re fat.”

“I am not fat!”

“Shhh, keep quiet.” Said Benjamin.

The two kept silent for a bit, as the sound of footsteps trudging through soggy grass could be heard just outside.

“Nobody here,” a voice finally said. The officers could be heard stomping away.

Julie issued a sigh of relief. “If only you didn’t get so nervous, we would have gotten away.”

“Oh please,” said Benjamin. “We got caught because you didn’t keep the officers distracted long enough.”

Julie scoffed. “It was a fool-proof plan, Benjamin. I was sobbing like a baby, and all the policemen were trying to calm me down. All you had to do was go through their lockers, toss all their uniforms in the sack, then walk. But no, you had to trip on the way out and spill everything.”

“Well it was a stupid theft in the first place. The more I think about your reason for wanting the uniforms, the more I question your sanity. By the way, thanks for taking the initiative to bolt after we were cuffed together!”

“I can’t believe I married such a… bore.”

“I can’t believe I married an insane woman.”

A light turned on. Julie and Benjamin turned to see a man sitting in the shed, a rifle in his lap and a cigarette in his mouth.

“You two done woke me up.” He puffed out smoke. “Ain’t nobody supposed to be on my premises, this here’s private property. You know what that means, don’t ya?”

“What?” said Julie.

The man stood up. A twisted grin overtook his face, and he held the rifle at his hip, barrel pointed in their direction.

Part 3, Coming Soon!

– Thomas M. Watt

Julie and Benjamin – Part 1

Julie and Benjamin sat across the table from one another, staring eye-to-eye.

“I don’t love you,” said Julie.

“And I don’t love you,” said Benjamin.

“So why are we still together?” said Julie.

“I don’t think we have a choice at the moment,” said Benjamin.

The two continued on staring, eyes locked on one another, and even after the waiter served the lobster, neither bothered to glimpse at the meal, let alone eat it.

“You know you’re pathetic,” said Julie.

“And you know you are fat,” said Benjamin.

“I hate you.”

“And I, you.”

The waiter came by, delivered the check, and Benjamin told him refused to pay for a meal he didn’t even eat.

“You ready?” said Julie.

“Are you?” said Benjamin.

The waiter returned and took the full plates of lobster back with him.

“Yeah, you go first.”

Benjamin laughed. “Nice try.”

“Fine, then I’m going first.”

“Someone is going to spot us. We are going to get arrested.” Said Benjamin.

“We don’t have a choice,” said Julie.

Benjamin scoffed.

“All right, on the count of three. 1…2…3!”

The couple stood up, knocking over the table when they did. Their wrists were handcuffed both handcuffed, and an iron chain dangled between, binding the pair together. They sprinted side by side out of the restaurant. After they charged through the front door, they ran straight into a police officer and knocked his cup of coffee onto his uniform.

The three all stopped and shared the same dumbfounded expression, until Julie finally tugged the iron chain and the couple sprinted away.

The policeman chased after them.

Part 2, Coming Soon!

– Thomas M. Watt

A Conversation between Thomas M. Watt and a character from his book

Adam from, “Way of the World.”

Thomas and Adam were both sitting on the curb together. Thomas was wearing his shoulder sling, while Adam was sipping scotch from his flask, dressed in his usual eccentric attire.

“Rah, why are we here, Thomas?” said Adam.

Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know. Just wanted to talk, I guess.”

“Talk? You want to talk let’s do it at a barroom.”

“We’re here, so just deal with it.”

“Sure.” Adam scoffed. “Deal with it. He shook his head. “What a terrible phrase. Well, let’s have at it then. What have you brought me here for?”

“I wanted to talk about your plot. I wanted to see how you felt about it.”

“About what, exactly?” said Adam.

“You know, the love curse. The prophesy on the train. The fact that if you fall in love it puts your entire company at risk.”

“You know that company hardly matters to me. And I don’t care about love, either. Despite what you might think,” Said Adam, scratching his long white chin.

Thomas laughed and adjusted his sling. “What about those quiet moments when you seem ashamed of yourself?”

“What! C’mon! Everybody has those moments! It’s called having fun. Thomas, listen, I honestly don’t care about my plot, whatsoever. I just need you to do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Allow me to fuck Evelynn.”

“What! I can’t do that!” said Thomas.

“Why not?” said Adam.

“Because that’s what’s driving your whole story now! It’ll kill the suspense!”

“Oh, forget suspense! Here, I’ve got an idea.” Adam stretched his tall lanky legs straight out in front of him, then rested his white-gloved hands in his lap.

“What?” said Thomas.

“How about this – If I don’t have sex with Evelynn at least twenty times in your novel, the Kingsley Products goes out of business.”

Thomas laughed. “I’m sorry, I can’t see that appealing much to readers over the age of thirteen.”

Adam stood up, then brushed some dirt off of his white buckskin shoes. “Rah.” He stood up straight. “Well what’s with you, anyhow?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, how are you? What exactly happened today?”

“With what?” said Thomas.

“Oh, c’mon, you know what! You had a captivating story going for a few days, then you published the finale this morning, and… well… let’s just say it wasn’t good.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“In fact, I’d say it was shit.”

“Yeah. I know,” repeated Thomas.

Adam laughed. He picked up a small black pebble then tossed it into the street. “Why did you publish it?”

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know. I had forty-five minutes to write it, and by the time the first draft was finished, I had to get out the door. I guess I just pressed publish without a second thought.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Nine views and three likes. I’m hoping they just didn’t wanna press the button.”

“No,” said Adam. “They read it and decided it was shit.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, or that.”

“Billy the butler? That was almost offensive. You’re not a very good writer, you know.”

“I created you.”

“Yeah, that’s why I said it. You don’t bring a character out of his normal setting to have a conversation with him. And about his own plot, for rah-sakes!”

Thomas stood up. “Well shit, I’ve been struggling all day with this thing. I even wrote a poem about it.”

“Yeah, and the poem sucked.”

“You’re kind of a dick, you know.”

“And you’re kind of a bad writer.”

“Whatever dude. I’m leaving.”

“Hey dude!” Adam called out, as Thomas started away.

“What?!”

“Write me more sex scenes! Get me some new flousies or something!”

“It’s spelled floozies.”

“Shut-it, you’re the writer. It was you who decided to be different and spell it your way.” Adam adjusted his black felt topper and failed to hide his smirk.

“What?” said Thomas.

“I’m just embarrassed to have been created by you, is all.”

Thomas opened to speak, before biting down hard on his bottom lip and walking away.

– Billy the Butler

Before Comfort’s Bliss

Thighs sliding, fingers cramped, sweaty pores, moving hands.

Rocking swiftly, moving gently, moaning sounds, hefty taking.

Hands caress, muscles push, breaths grow heavy, lamps are shook.

Moving swiftly side to side until a turn brings her to rise.

Rising up from up to down, pushing forth, pulling out.

Turning over, once again, breaths do mate, fingers blend.

Kissing, touching, quaking lots, moving down from neck to next spot.

Lips do squish, tongues they kiss, elbows bend , her pelvis kicks.

Eyes they meet from eye to eye at first they see but soon they fly.

Enter back into her body, watch her glisten, feel her naughty.

Twisting over to one side, slides to hip, leg twined is fine.

Hair grows wild in his hand, pulling hard, faster again.

Moving closer, dripping sweat, to her forehead, feel her breast.

Sheets all rustle, bed does break, blankets fall and moans do rage.

Raising volume hear the sounds from one man’s push till one girl’s found.

Voices quiet, thoughts they bleed, grips of holding pressing deep.

Heads come closer, heat it rises, slanted mattress provides for driving.

Springs they rattle, muscles ache, one limb stiffens, one girl shakes.

Hurrying on, fast again, lips they meet, breaths quicken.

All at once the sounds explode as does the load as does the show.

The two embrace for one small kiss before a rest and comfort’s bliss.

– Thomas M. Watt

A Handshake Precedes an Indecent Request – Part 3 – GRAND FINALE!

Mr. Huerto grabbed Marie by the arm just before she reached the front door. “You’re going nowhere!”

“Let me go!”

“No!” He screamed. “Not until you explain yourself. Did you marry me for my money, expecting to take it and marry Joe after he returned from prison?”

She squirmed. “Joe, help me!”

Joe shook his head. “Tell the man, Marie.”

Marie shrugged her arm free. “Fine.” She let out a breath. “Yeah, maybe I did. Maybe I thought it would be the ultimate surprise for Joe when he got out. I loved him!”

“Loved?” said Joe.

She looked at Mr. Huerto, and rubbed his shoulder. “But something happened! I actually fell in love with you along the way! I don’t just want your money, I want you!”

“What about me?” Said Joe.

“Well… I still care about you! But things change! You’ve been gone for so long, Joe! What did you expect? How could you not think things would change?”

Joe grew teary eyed. “That whole time in prison, I served that sentence for you… for us!”

“Well what about me!” Cried Mr. Huerto. “I’m the true victim in all this! To think I’ve been duped, like some kind of idiot!”

“You weren’t duped!” Said Marie. “I love you! You’re my husband!”

“I”m a mockery! Our marriage is a complete sham!”

“No! It only started out that way!” Said Marie.

The door swung open, and Billy the butler rocketed in. “Good heavens!” He said, in a gasp. “What’s going on here? Who are you?” He said to Joe.

“That’s Joe,” said Mr. Huerto. “Fresh from prison.”

Billy the butler gasped again, and ran straight to Mr. Huerto. He hugged both arms around his neck. “Intruder! Don’t touch my man!”

Marie and Joe both gasped.

“Your man?” said Joe.

Mr. Huerto dropped his gaze and scratched the back of his head. He spoke solemnly. “Yes, I’m afraid it’s true.”

“What?” Said Marie, with a sniff.

“Me and Billy the butler.” He hardly managed to look back to her. “We’re in love.”

Marie slapped Billy the butler in the chest, and then he slapped her back. They both engaged in fit of wrist flickings, until Joe held Marie back.

“So our marraige IS a sham!” Cried Marie.

“Yes, but darling!” Said Mr. Huerto. “This can all be fixed!”

“How?” She said. “How can all this be fixed?”

Mr. Huerto shrugged. “Well… we can just stay married, and Joe can live here. Come night time, I’ll sleep with Billy the butler, and you can sleep with Joe.”

Everyone else shrugged as well.

An hour later, they sat before the television set, watching a feel-good movie by the fireplace. Mr. Huerto kissed Billy the butler on the cheek, and Joe kissed Marie on the lips.

“One big happy family,” said Mr. Huerto.

“I guess so,” said Joe, before winking to Marie. “We’re gonna go grab some more popcorn from the kitchen. We’ll be quick.”

As Joe and Marie walked hand and hand to the other room, Billy the butler turned and called out to them over shoulder.

“So will we!”

Everyone laughed extra laughingly.

THE END

– Thomas M. Watt

Adam’s Plot

A point, a reason, a purpose due.

A thought, a quest, a long pursuit.

A fear, a doubt, a question posed.

A reason for the reader to go.

Entertainment is not enough,

Nor are words puffed up with fluff.

Need to feed the man some strengths,

Some endless longing for his wrong days.

For what does this one man stew?

What is it that he so must do?

Brain is trembling, being all fears, so much time – plot’s still unclear.

Cannot quite touch it yet, need the thought but it’s still wet.

A playboy, a pessimist, a selfish man too,

Fear of love, a heart untrue.

He needs the fame but no King’s glory,

He needs a plot or his story’s boring.

Currently his chapter’s are fun,

A lot of sex, a thoughtful run.

Does his best to escape his needs,

Falls in love with Gnashing’s great weed.

A woman who is beautiful, charming yet, precisely dull.

She’s got a character much like his own  – Sweet with words, a heart that’s cold.

His story ends with much betrayal, for the girl who did enable –

Him to meet the antagonist, she brought him to the bad man’s twist.

So what now, what’s all I’ve told?

From what you’ve heard, what quest is known?

I need a plot, a question to pull. I  need a purpose, or Adam’s story just lulls.

– Thomas M. Watt

A Handshake Precedes an Indecent Request – Part 2

“Alright, I’ll tell you everything,” said Joe. “I’ll explain why I met you tonight and expect to leave with your wife, for good. I just need to know one thing.”

“What?” said Mr. Huerto.

“You won’t lay a hand on Marie. You won’t hurt her.”

Mr. Huerto laughed. “Joe, I’m not the type to hit a woman.”

“I know,” Joe gulped. “But after you hear my story, I’m afraid that all could change.”

Something loud fell and crashed in the other room. Marie sobbed louder.

“I don’t hit women,” said Mr. Huerto. “Now on with the story.”

Joe nodded. He had a breath, then began.

“When Marie and I were sixteen, we were already on our third year of dating, and felt normal teenage rebellion was getting boring. We needed thrill, excitement. We needed to do something new, something kids our age wouldn’t even dare. We needed more adrenaline-”

“Why?'” said Mr. Huerto.

Joe smirked as he returned his glance to Mr. Huerto. “We liked to fuck on it.”

Mr. Huerto shook his head and stuffed a cracker into his mouth. “Just… just go on!”

“Alright.” Joe nodded. “So me and Marie, we used to devise ways to get ourselves as close to danger as possible, without ever getting caught. It started out with stupid things, like breaking into random cars for a quickie. As time wore on, we got all the more adventurous. Started getting stupid with it. Broke into houses, backyards. Soon breaking in alone wasn’t enough.”

Mr. Huerto swung his glass of water to his lips then choked slightly on his drink. He tried to muffle his cough, and when he spoke again it was with a broken voice.

“You alright, sir?” said Joe.

“I didn’t exactly plan on hearing all about my wife’s sexcapades with some stranger tonight.”

Joe laughed. “That’s alright, it gets better.”

Mr. Huerto darted his glance back to Joe. Joe went on.

“So the whole breaking in thing, we got tired of it. It seemed juvenile, you know? So we decided to do something different. We decided to start getting strangers involved.”‘

Mr. Huerto raised an eyebrow.

Joe laughed. “Not like you think. It was a game. A sick, weird little game-”

“What was the game?”

Joe buttoned his lips initially. “Marie would go on dates with other guys. I would wait for her-”

“WHERE?” Screamed Mr. Huerto, standing up.

Joe shook his hands and backed away. “In the bathroom!”

“And then?”

“And then we would fuck, while her date was waiting for her!”  Joe scurried away.

Mr. Huerto charged on. “You mean to tell me the first date I shared with my wife, the night you were caught raping her in the ladies bathroom, the reason you were locked up for the last ten years… WAS BECAUSE MY WIFE IS A SEX-FREAK!”

Joe backed into wall. “Not a freak, Mr. Huerto. Exhibitionist is-”

“YOU WENT TO PRISON FOR TEN YEARS! HOW COULD THIS NOT COME OUT IN COURT?”

Joe fell into a corner. He looked down at the carpeting. “You can thank Marie for that one.”

“Why?” said Mr. Huerto.

Joe gulped. “She said if I could wait ten years, she knew a guy that would give us sixteen million dollars.”

“What? Who! I’ve got thirty-two million but I swear on my life I’m not about to give any… wait.”

Just then, Marie sprinted through the room and towards the front door.

“MARIE!” Shouted Mr. Huerto.

PART 3, COMING SOON!

Thomas M. Watt

A Handshake Precedes an Indecent Request – Part 1

They sat across the table from one another, each carving up his own chicken breast. Not a word had been spoken since Marie last exited the room in tears.

“Let me get this straight,” Mr. Huerto finally said. “You come to my house, shake my hand one time, and now you’re expecting to leave with my wife?”

“Not just leave,” said Joe. “I want to be with her.”

Mr. Huerto shook his head. He wiped the sauce from his lips with his white napkin. “You think I’m some kind of joke? You think you can just waltz in here, have yourself a fine meal, then spend the night fucking my wife?”

“Mr. Huerto, you know that’s not what I came for! I’m in love with her. We’re in love together.”

“You think she loves you?”

“I know it.”

Mr. Huerto scoffed. “You’re really something, you know. Haven’t been laid in a while, is that it?”

“No!” Joe shouted.

Marie could be heard weeping in the other room.

“What did you do, anyway?”

Joe didn’t answer.

“C’mon, if you really think I’m gonna hand over my wife to you, you better give me some answers.”

Joe had a drink of water. “I’m done wasting my time here.” He got up to leave.

“Joe, sit down,” said Mr. Huerto. “I’ll let you have her without a fight, but only if I approve.”

“I don’t need your approval,” said Joe.

“But Marie sure does, unless you want her life to be filled with doubt. She’s come to love me, you know. Despite what you may think.”

After a lengthy exhale, Joe began his story.

PART 2, COMING SOON!

– Thomas M. Watt