The Dodge

   Cheryl was about to whip up some bodacious biscuits for breakfast last Sunday, when she discovered that she was out of baking powder. Since my time is not nearly as precious as that of our breadwinner, I was sent down the street to ask Alma Beeler if we could borrow some.
   It was a nice day, so I didn't really mind the walk, although my jaws did tighten a little when I saw the new Buick parked in Irv Nesbaum's driveway. He couldn't keep it in the garage? I shrugged it off and continued on the Beeler residence.
  Mrs. Beeler opened the door. "Well, how do, stranger."
  "Hello, Mrs. Beeler."
  She open the door. "Come on in ... and stop calling me Mrs. Beeler ... it's Alma." She has become much less formal since Mr. Beeler passed.
  I stepped inside. "Cheryl needs some baking powder ... you wouldn't happen to have any around would you?"
  "Well, of course I do."
  I followed her through the living room, past an impressive Hummel figurine collection, into the commemorative plate festooned kitchen.
  "How much does she need?"
  I admired the new William and Kate royal wedding plate."She's making biscuits ... you probably know better than I."
  She nodded and went about the business of getting the baking powder for me. "Say, I haven't seen your uncle around lately. Is he okay?"
  Although it had blown by me, Cheryl had noticed that she had taken somewhat of an interest in Uncle Billy when they were at our fourth of July party. This could be delicate. "Um, well, Uncle Billy has been ... well ... um ... busy lately."
  She handed me a small plastic container. "Busy? He hasn't said anything about that on his Facebook page. Perhaps I'll shoot him a Tweet and see what's up."
  I nodded vaguely, said, "Thanks," and turned to go.
  Alma walked me to the door. "Say, do you know a 'Clara Rickenbacker'?
  Oh, oh. "Why do you ask?"
  "Her name popped up as a mutual friend of William's."
  "Oh yeah, she lives at Back in the Day."
  "William's apartment house?"
  "That's right ... hey, thanks for the baking powder ... I'd better get this back to Cheryl taco pronto."
  I slipped out the door before Alma could respond.

Star Crossed

  "Thank you so much for taking the time to read this." Clara slid the manilla envelope across the table toward me.
  "Oh, it's no problem ...  happy to help out." I opened the envelope and pulled out the manuscript and glanced at the title, Star Crafters. "What's it about?"
  "Well, it's about a young girl, Leith, who learns that the new boy, Rex, who just moved in next door is really part of a family of aliens from the planet Xercon ... she fears for her safety until she the boy saves from a gang of bullies and she comes to find that his race is benevolent and trying to help mankind from themselves. Leith and Rex fall in love, but must part because his mission has ended and he has to return to Xercon. It really sets up the sequel."
  "Oh, really ... sounds interesting."
  Uncle Billy appeared holding a tray. "Three senior coffees." He set the tray on the table and sat down. "So, are the authors getting to know each other?"
  Clara picked up one of the coffees. "I just gave your nephew the book."
  I patted the manuscript. "So, Clara, tell me, how did you happen to get into the ... ah ... this particular genre?"
  "Well, I've always wanted to write a book, and Bill was telling me about how successful Irv Nesbaum has been with non-fiction ... "
  "He's taking off like a rocket," said Uncle Billy.
  "... but that's not really my thing," Clara continued. "I read that young adult romances and science fiction were both hot areas ... so, it seemed logical to combine the two."
  I picked up a coffee, took the lid off and blew on it ... to give me time to digest what Clara just said. "I guess that makes sense."
  "Yes. I'm sure if I package it properly it'll be successful."
  "Gee, it sounds like you've done your homework ... what do you want me to do? I mean, I'm not exactly the demographic you're looking for."
  "I know, but you're an author ... I just need a professional's reaction to the structure and pacing."
  I sat up. "You've read my books?"
  Clara blushed slightly. "Well, no ... but your Uncle told me you were published."
  Uncle Billy shrugged his shoulders and I sank back in my seat. "I'm pretty busy right now ... I'm not sure how long it'll take me to read this."
  "Oh that's okay ... I'm not in any hurry ... even if you don't get back to me until next week ..."
  Next week? I looked at the stack of pages. If I started reading it today it would take me a month at least. I leered at Uncle Billy. He shifted his gaze out the window. "I'll do what I can, Clara."

I Can't Wait

   I was idly drumming my fingers on the mouse, trying to think of how to get to the next plot point, when my cell rang. It was Uncle Billy.
  "When are you going to start answering your text messages?" he asked.
  "How are you, Uncle," I responded.
  "Okay, I get it ... you aren't."
  "Let's not get into this right now ... what did you want?"
  "I wanted to know if you'd read Clara's manuscript."
  "Clara's manuscript?"
  "Yeah, she's been writing a book and when I told her you were an author, she asked if you'd look at her stuff and see what you thought."
  Good grief. "What's it about?"
  "How should I know? I haven't read it," he said.
  "You haven't? But you're her friend."
  "Sonny, I don't have time to read an unproven author ... I haven't even read your books."
  "Yeah, I know, thanks."
  "So, are you going to read it or not?"
  "Well, I don't know ... I'm pretty busy right now."
  "So you want me to tell her that my nephew, the author, isn't interested in reading her manuscript?"
  "Come on, Uncle, that's not fair."
  "Okay, I'll tell her ..."
  "No, no, don't do that ... I'll read it."
  "You will? Thanks, Sonny, I know it'll mean a lot to her."
  "What if it isn't any good?"
  "That could be a problem." Uncle Billy paused. "Well, you'll think of something. I'll have her send you a pdf."
  "I'm out of printer ink ... and paper ... and I don't want to read it on the computer ... can't she print out a copy for me?"
  "I suppose so. When can you pick it up?"
  I looked at the paragraph that had just taken me two hours to write. "I'll be over in the morning."
  "Great, Sonny, I really appreciate it."

Funny in the Morning

   "You've been kinda quiet, Sonny," said Uncle Billy. "Somethin' troublin' you?"
   "Oh, I don't know." I took a sip of the beer that had been sitting on the bar in front of me.
   "Come on, what's botherin' ya, Bunky?"
   Staring at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar, I decided to come clean. "My neighbor, Mr. Nesbaum, wrote a book ... and he has made enough money off it to quit his day job."
   "You mean Irv Nesbaum's book about screwdrivers?"
   I grabbed Uncle Billy's sleeve and almost pulled him off the barstool. "How do you know about that?"
   He regained his balance and looked at me. "Watch it ... you dang near knocked me over."
   "I'm sorry ... how did you know about Mr. Nesbaum's book?"
   Uncle Billy smoothed the wrinkles out of his coat sleeve. "I heard him on the radio the other day."
   "The radio? Irv Nesbaum was on the radio?"
   "Yeah ... the morning show with Brick and Brack."
   "Brick and Brack?"
   "I listen to them every morning ... they're hilarious."
   "Irv Nesbaum was on Brick and Brack's morning show?"
   "Yep ... and he's going to be on Channel Two News Friday morning."
   "How do you know that?"
   "I follow him on Twitter, that's how."
   I leaned on the bar and let out a sigh. "You follow Irv Nesbaum on Twitter."
   "His book sounded interesting ... I posted a note about him on Facebook ... didn't you see it?"
   "I never saw anything about Irv Nesbaum."
   "You need to spend more time tending your social media, Sonny." Uncle Billy looked at his watch. "Hey, you've got to get me home ... Clara and I are taking the shuttle to the casino this afternoon." He stood up and grabbed the change off the bar.
   I stood up. "Thanks for lunch, Uncle."
   "You're welcome, Sonny."

Turn of the Screw

   I was surprised to see Mr. Nesbaum at the mailbox. He's a sales associate in the hardware department at Home Depot, so I rarely see him during the day.
   "Got the day off, eh, Mr. Nesbaum?"
   He smiled slyly. "I don't work at Home Depot anymore."
   I slipped my query letter into the slot. "Really? Why not?"
   "I don't need to work anymore. Can I get in there?"
   "Oh, I'm sorry." I stepped aside so he could get to his mailbox. "Did you retire?"
   He pulled out his mail and started sorting through the letters. "Sort of. I've got a new career."
   "No kidding? Doing what?"
   "I'm an author and lecturer."
   That got my attention. "Author and lecturer? I didn't know you were a writer."
   "Well, I'm not sure I'd classify myself as a 'writer' ... but I have a book out."
   "If you have a book out, I think that qualifies you as a writer ... what's it about?"
   "About the proper use of hand tools."
   Well, that made sense. "What's the title?"
   "The Truth about the Left-Handed Screw Driver." He stopped sorting and held up a letter. "Here's what I was looking for."
   "What's that?"
   "A check from the Southpaw Mechanics Association."
   "For what?"
   "I was the keynote speaker at their annual convention."
   "No kidding?"
   "Nope. Say, how're your books doing?"
   "Oh, fair to middling ... I just got a royalty check for twenty-two dollars."
   "Well, good for you." He started to leave, stopped and held up the check. "We ought to have you and the Missus over for dinner."
   "Sure." I watched him walk away.

All Thumbs

   I got a text message on my cellphone from a friend ... it said, "Call me." I honestly didn't know how to respond to that. Why on earth would someone take the time to hunt 'n' peck on that ridiculously small keyboard to compose a message like that when they could've placed the call in five seconds? I know what you're thinking ... here's where the old fogey goes into his rant about all that new-fangled technology ... but no, that's not it.
   Heck, I embrace anything that will make my life easier or more fun. I get smart phones ... I get iPads ... I get GPS ... and giant, flat-screen TVs (be still my beating heart). But I just can't get my head around texting. Now, there must be some logic in there somewhere, because everybody does it ... and I mean everybody.
  The other day, I went to pick up Uncle Billy from the assisted living facility for our weekly outing to the convenience store to get his supply of, um, medicine, and lottery tickets. He is sitting in the lobby next to a pretty lady and both are holding cellphones, digits flying. He spots me and says, "Sonny, why are you here?"
  "I pick you up every Thursday, Uncle Billy."
  "But I have a date with Clara ... didn't you get my text?" He pats the knee of the pretty lady. She lowers her phone and smiles at me.
    See what I mean? Okay, enough of this ... you can text me if you want ... I just hope you're not in a hurry for a reply.

Walking in Tall Cotton

   I'm feeling rather flush these days ... I got my royalty payment from Kindle for June, July and August ... a tidy sum of $22.70! Hey, you may roll your eyes and scoff at that piddling amount, but I'm excited as a puppy with two tails. It's not often that I see money rolling into my bank account, so whenever I do it's time to celebrate. Now, I'm not quite ready to put a down payment on that villa in the south of France, but my wife was able to buy a pot roast for dinner on Sunday ... and it was delicious.
   The other positive aspect to this event is that it means someone, somewhere out there has a book of mine on their e-reader. Yeah, I know, that doesn't mean they are going to actually read it ... but they might ... and if they do, they might enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it ... and then, maybe, just maybe, they'll tell someone else ... oh, I'm positively giddy with the prospect. Okay, no chateau just yet ... but I wonder how much a BMW costs these days?