Monday, October 17, 2016



     I think he really thought he'd gotten away with it....
After all, he had money on his side, his spotless public image, a name that everyone knew, a face everyone recognized, especially those he'd hurt.

     He looks so....nothing, lying there in the snow,  as naked and voiceless as the girls and women he'd abused for so long, hiding behind privilege. Maybe it was wrong, but I hauled him out of his warm bed, and made him strip, so he'd have an idea of what his victims felt, the vulnerability, the cold-

     The terror.
He begged, he offered money, he even threatened; what would these mean to me? So many had been too afraid, ashamed to speak out, for far too long.

     He never recognized me....of course, I look quite different from the last time he saw me, when I was the one crying, begging, pleading.

     MONSTER....your day is done, and my seal is seared across your face, the face you'd make me kiss after you'd rape me. I blow you a kiss, and say those hated words, the ones you killed my kitty over, because I wouldn't say them, the words you threatened to hurt Mommy over, if I didn't say them, night after night after night....

     "G'night, Daddy."

Monday, September 19, 2016


      It's about seven thirty on a Saturday morning, and I'd planned on sleeping in for at least another hour. Instead, I'm awakened by my wife, loudly protesting to my second favorite bedmate.

     "DOUGIE! Would you PLEASE....I can't BREATHE with you up there-SCAT!"
Susan is still trying to  get used to sleeping with fifteen pounds of cat hogging the pillow. It's no use trying to get him to stop-I certainly couldn't after five years. Putting him out the door is even worse, 'cause he'll sit outside the door, yowling and scratching until you let him back in. I guess he does have certain rights, having been, well, the House Cat, but still....

     Susan finally picks him up and semi-dumps him on the floor next to the bed. The injured party, his dignity offended, runs to the door, glaring over his shoulder at us, since we're still in bed, and it's obviously breakfast time. Since we've now got room, I take the time to gaze at my bride of a month and change. She's giving me that pleased, flattered, "what-are-you-looking-at" look that I've missed so much. I feel like I'm in junior high, and the tongue-tying girl who sits in the first row has told me yes, she'll go to the dance with me, in front of EVERYONE.

      What can I say? I got the girl, again.
My phone's my friend, Dr. Lewis Smith, wanting to know if me and Susan want to devour steaks with him and his missus later today.

     Silly question, that.