THE WEDDING FIASCO AND AFTERWARDS

THE WEDDING FIASCO... AND AFTERWARDS While I KNOW that I had made a point, of reminding my friend, that I knew neither the bride, nor the groom, in an upcoming wedding, my friend suggested "Its a great way to meet girls!" On the actual day, of the wedding, I had no idea WHERE my friend was. What I DID find was an ebony angel, who was weeping, near the church. While I did NOT go into too much details, so as not to upset the woman, I DID offer her my shoulder, then an embrace, as I whispered a generic "It will be fine." When she whispered "How do you know?" I whispered "You are young, and very beautiful." When she whispered "I'll bet you say that, to ALL the girls." This is when I embraced this woman, and gave her a long, deep, kiss. (And, no, I made no objection, when the kiss went French.) Having forgotten about wondering WHERE my "friend" was, I noticed I was relieving this angels fears. Knowing this, I proceeded with necking, and carressing her. Anything I could think of, which would make this angel happy. As for her womanhood, I savored this, like a feast, even as she carressed me. When I came back up, face-to-face, with her, she smiled as she whispered "My turn." My God! By the way she handled my manhood, I was even more certain, than ever, that this woman was an angel. Since I figured that this angel was, simply, a member, of the wedding party, I saw no reason to feel shame, when we became "one". My main hope was that I was giving her the very best love she had, ever, had. After "seconds", she whispered "Thank You", and I whispered "Any time, my love." I am happy to say that, when she entered the church, her weeping was replaced with a bright smile. Of course, when I entered th church, I expected to be asked which party I was with. When I mentioned that I was a "plus one", and gave the greeter the invited's name, I was told where to sit. When I took a seat, where designated, I dont know who was more confused. The people, who told me that the invited was in jail, on "Solicitation" charges, or if it was when I asked the group "Since the invited is not here, should I leave?" Any response was drowned out, as the service began. While the minister was as ivory as I was, the gathering was more-or-less half-and-half. The angelic voices, of the choir, resonated with the polished glee, of having grown up, in church. While the priest picked up the Bible, and all, present, did as we should, I can only conclude that the "mass of muscle", which came to stand, before the priest, was the groom. While his tuxedo might be an extra-large, even I could tell there was no fat, below that material. When I wondered what woman would be marrying him, I did not know whether to be horrified, or ashamed, when the bride came forward. Now, in my case, as anyone can attest, put ME into either a tuxedo, or formal wear, and I look tottally sickly. In fact, more than once, people have asked if I felt well, once in dress clothes. This is about how I felt, when I watched the bride enter the chapel. The wedding dress made my angel look like a bar of chocolate, covered in fluffy, whipped topping. In my opinion, the bride would have looked much more beautiful, in either deep red, or navy blue. It was not until she winked at me that I realized. On a brides wedding day, I had done everything except propose to her. Then I remembered. Since I did NOT know that the woman I was loving was the bride-to-be, I felt like the situation was "No harm, No foul." While I remember that she mentioned that she was afraid, she never mentioned either what she was afraid of, or that she was the bride. Then came the worst part. The priest had, barely, gotten to the part of saying "We are gathered here, today..." When the groom cried out a profanity, to which the priest stated "Sir, this is the House of the Lord." When the priest began, again, the groom cried out, using more profanity, while telling my angel "Stop stepping on my foot." When my angel, and the priest, denied that such had happened, the groom turned to my angel, saying "Step on my foot, one more time (string of profanities), and I am walking out." It was no wonder that my angel lifted her veil, saying "Fine!", then, visibly, lifting her leg, and power-ramming the grooms foot. My angel then looked, at the congregation, saying "THAT time, I DID it. Right in front of all of you." When the groom uttered more profanity, telling the bride she wasn't getting a wedding NIGHT, the priest would step in, saying "Sir! You have profaned the House of the Lord. There will be no wedding, today. LEAVE this temple, of God, immediately!" While several, of those, departing the church, said it would be normal for a bride to take her time, coming out of church, When my angel stepped outside the church, I wasn't sure what to say, first. I guess this is why she embraced, and kissed, me, then whispered "It wasn't your fault. I didn't tell you that I was getting married. I guess I just wanted a bit of love, before getting married." When I asked "You dont think what we did, before the wedding, "jinxed" the proceedings." She smiled as she said "Superstition is for children. I just dont think he wanted it to happen." After departing the church, and during a walk, in a nearby park, we not only exchanged NAMES, but Jasmine gave me the summary: While her husband-to-be was a two-time loser, who felt that having a "wife" (housekeeper and child care) would keep him out of prison... It seems that Jasmines family was so "afraid", since Jasmine admitted that she perferred dating ivory men. Her mother was scared that Jasmines children would not be fully Negro. This is why the Negro marriage had been "arranged". By the time we reached Jasmines place, Jasmine had promised me "The most romantic moment, I have had, in recent months, was our "moment", just before that ceremony." When I asked "What are your plans, now?" Jasmine smiled as she said "First things first. I want to find out how good you are, in bed." While I followed her lead, and her smile only grew, as the day proceeded, I noticed that the only time, when Jasmine became edgy, was when a friends phone call interrupted "US". After listening to the caller, for a few moments, Jasmine told the caller where she was, and what she wanted to get back to. It must have been a friend who called, since Jasmine said "I'll call you, LATER." After that, as Jasmine snuggled back, into my arms, she whispered "My friend wanted me to know that (the groom) has had five women, since the wedding service." When I suggested "Then, he never loved you, did he." Jasmine smiled as she said "Not one percent as much as you do." For reasons, which I will, never, understand, over those next six months, Jasmines friends decided to "keep score", of both parties. For six months, and even though her friends understood that Jasmine was with ME, the friends kept reminding Jasmine of (the grooms) average, of 25, to 30, women, per month. After six months time, (the grooms) "score card" read "150 conquests", filling two pages, of paper. This, in contrast to Jasmines ONE lover. Me. I KNOW Jasmine told her friends that she could not care, less, about (the groom). As for the LAME-est part, of our first year, together, this was when Jasmines own, criminal, record, "came to light". It would seem that (the groom) was trying to "Sell Jasmine down the river", in return for a lighter sentence, for himself. From what Jasmine told me, her "involvement", in the crime, was limited to reminding the thieves about security measures. That, and the fact that, when the thieves discussed using a LARGE woman, as a distraction, for the duty guard, during the theft... Jasmine had been the one to mention that, while she dated the mans brother, the then in-training guard had offered to "take over" Jasmine, if his brother lost interest. Jasmine had only smiled, at the man, as she whispered "I will let you know." This is why Jasmine had suggested a "girl next door" type, to distract the guard. Jasmines final "colussion", with the thieves, had been to suggest "Make sure the woman is friendly. Neighborly. No profanity." This had been the end of Jasmines part, in the robbery. While the thieves handled the security system, one of the thieves own sisters "handled" the guard. From what Jasmine heard, later, the most difficult part, of the whole caper, was DRAGGING the woman away from her lover, once the goods were gone. Now, its seems that (the groom) had presented an undercover cop, with a necklace, from the robbery, in the hope of trading the jewelry for sex. Jasmine was only being brought in, due to her PAST, criminal, record. As Jasmine admitted, to me, once she realized we were a couple, she been arrested, for drug use, years ago. While Jasmine had been ready to admit to Marijuana use, what had surprised even Jasmine, was when test results came back "positive", for cocaine use. While Jasmine said she was TOLD that, when found, she was "out of it", all that Jasmine would admit to was attending the party, drinking a couple of beers, doing some "weed", then waking up, in jail. While Jasmine would be sentenced, to two years, for use, Jasmine won "early release", by going to work in the prison offices. After just six months, behind bars, the warden had written the state board "Keeping (Jasmine) locked up is a waste, of money, space, beds, and food. Jasmine is no more a "threat", to society, than my dog is." After early release, while Jasmine agreed that her parole officer did not like her, to begin with, what annoyed the officer, the most, was the following: First, when the regular secretary fell sick, and the P.O. TRIED to run the office, themselves. The place was worse than a madhouse. When Jasmine agreed to assist, until the secretary was recovered, she did not realize it but the P.O. was chopping off two months, from Jasmines probation, for every month Jasmine worked, in the office. The reason why the P.O. eventually removed Jasmines anklet was because, seven, of the nine, times, when the device chirped "parole violation", Jasmine was IN the P.O.'s office, doing her work. The other two times, Jasmine was buying groceries, for the office. It became obvious that someone was "fooling with" the system when, all nine times, the anklet reported Jasmine "jumping state lines". When the regular secretary returned to work, the P.O. terminated Jasmines parole, saying "You've EARNED it. NOW, DONT make me look like a FOOL" Jasmine was, now, YEARS beyond this time, when the heist took place. The problem, which the police had, with the statements, from those, involved, in the theft, was how ONLY (the groom) insisted that Jasmine had played a part, in the actual heist. All nine, of the other suspects, stated that all Jasmine had done was remind the group, both about security, and about the kind of woman, the guard liked. Ten people told ONE story. ONE person told another story. When questioned, Jasmine told the police "I only mentioned security since no business is without a system, nowadays." When asked HOW she knew, about the guard, Jasmine told the police "I dated his brother. This is when he told me of his favorite kind of woman." As it turns out, the "connection", between Jasmine, and the crime, was so "thin" that a puff, of wind, would make it vanish. Jasmine only learned about the guard, when we saw him, maybe two months later. While Jasmine and I noticed how the man said "I wish it had been you. My job, definitely, would have been worth you." He, then, told us how the sista had made him feel so good that he had passed out. When he woke up, later, it was to hear his boss saying "Clean up, pack your things, and go. Youre fired." When the man asked Jasmine "Do you happen to know that girls name? She was so perfect. I want to thank her." Jasmine only told the truth when she said "Sorry, no idea." When Jasmine DID meet the girl, later, the girl made Jasmine promise NOT to tell the guard who she was. When Jasmine had asked "Was he THAT BAD?" The girl would say "Worse, he was THAT GOOD." Her brother would say "Thats right. He MUST have been good, since we had to DRAG her off of him, and carry her clothes out, after the robbery." The girl only said "He was beautiful. I enjoyed it." Jasmine did not question this. Jasmine just focused her efforts, on giving me all the love that I wanted (and planning for our, potential, family). Any time Jasmine was asked what song represented our relationship, Jasmine never failed to list "Ebony and Ivory", by Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder.

THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF PEORIA ILLINOIS

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF PEORIA ILLINOIS While Ghost Ship Two was being "re-certified", by the air force, Tami and I received another surprise. While our own wages, and bonuses, COULD have purchased us whole FLEETS, of motor vehicles, we were surprised when an "unknown benefactor" produced two, brand new, vehicles. According to th "benefactor", there was no WAY we could have known, about the computer tampering. Besides, it was a Hollywood back lot, and not the real White House, which had been attacked. Still, our pilots were triple-checking all systems, even as the Pentagon was. This, even as Tami had asked Mr. Brown to do some "background", on the planes computer programmers. While computer programmers could be rude, to the max, with people, who did not understand the electronic world, I had to agree, with Tami, that it just seemed "bizzarre" that an entire group, or "collective", of computer programmers just "died". Add in the fact that, while Tami had run what was left, of the programmers backgrounds, even as I searched, in vane, for the peoples graves. While I agreed with the Pentagon, that "people die, evereyday", when I asked "That may be true, in battle, but an entire group, of computer programmers? How often do computer programmers just drop dead?" When my partner turned up less than "little", in the files, then Tami began trying to make contact, with the programmers next of kin, even I was surprised when the response was a very polite "But OUT!". When Tami asked "May I ask why?" the message was "Ma'am, you have your youth, beauty, a fine plane, and a successful career. Why not enjoy it?" Thankfully, Tami took the message as I did. Besides, as I reminded my partner. "We are not on the clock. This is NOT our case. Lets get back to what we are PAID to do." Once the air force declared G.S.2 to be "flight safe", we would, no-sooner, be on our way, back to our base, when Mr. Brown vid-linked with us. I just found it odd how Mr. Brown was referencing streets, and businesses, in the town where I grew up. When Tami, who grew up, in another town, would say "I have, never, heard of these places. Where are they?" I would ask "Sir, WHY are you referencing my birth place?" When Tami would ask "Birth place? I thought you were from..." I would correct my partner, saying "I have only lived in that city since I was eighteen years old. Originally, I was born, in Peoria, then spent a few years, growing up, in a small town, just outside of East Peoria. Due to "family problems", my mother moved my sisters, and myself, BACK to Peoria, where I finished grade school, and took a year, of junior high school." When Tami would ask "Since WHEN does ANY school have just one year, of junior high?" I would say "The story students were told was that Peoria was "phasing out" junior high. As a result, the transitional phase, of junior high, between grade school, and high school, was being "phased out", due to budget needs. Even though the building was recognized, as junior high school, the school board "destroyed" our advancement, by insisting that grade schoolers be admitted, while more senior students were ordered to "forget our status". I wont bore you, with the rest, except to say that, by the time I reached high school age, the "animals" I attended class with, were only interested in savagely beating any student, whom the "animals" believed was "different". When Tami would suggest "Let me guess. YOU were "different." I would agree "Since all I wanted was to be left, in peace, to study, and graduate, my "class-mates" decided that I had no right to live. Of course, faculty REFUSED to get involved, insisting the barbarism was just a "right of passage". This is why, once old enough, I quit high school, and went into adult education". When Mr. Brown would ask "Before you re-located, wasn't there some "trouble", between a businessman, and a land developer?" I would say "Sure, BIG money land developer comes to town. Starts ripping out the historic buildings. Rips out downtown theaters, while building REMOTE theater complexes. " When Mr. Brown would ask "Was this BEFORE, or AFTER Caterpillar Tractor, and Keystone, packed up, and left, closing down plants, and laying off hundreds of workers?" I would say "About the same time. About the same time the land developer ripped out the downtown, then built his own version, of the twin towers." When Mr. Brown would ask "Wasn't there a fire, at some place called "Jumers"?" I would correct Mr. Brown, saying "The fire, which burned part, of Jumers Castle Lodge, was, maybe, in 1975. The property was restored LONG before the downtown was torn apart. This was, also, LONG BEFORE "Cat" left town, as well." When Mr. Brown would ask "Did you, ever, hear ghost stories, or SEE anything, unusual, during those years?" I would say "Sir, with Peoria's PAST, I could fill a dictionary, with all the stories I heard, and things I THOUGHT I saw. Remember, Peoria has a PAST, which digs DEEP, into state history." When Mr. Brown would ask "Just HOW deep?" I would mention "The last time I visited the Peoria Public Library, there was, still, a statue, of an owl, which was perched, I THINK, inside a stairwell." When Mr. Brown would ask "WHO would place a statue inside a stairwell?" I would say "Sir, last time I was there, the public library had windows, in the stairwell. If I remember, correctly, a plaque, below the owl, stated that the owl had rested atop a previous library." When Tami joked "Next thing I know, you are going to say you remember the days, of cardboard "date due" cards, for library books." I would continue with "As a matter of fact, smarty, I remember the days when library CARDS were made of cardboard, and the users name was TYPED on the card." When Tami would ask "I'll bet that was "fun", for the laser readers." I would ask "What lasers? When we checked out books, our library user cards had a tiny piece, of numbered metal, in one corner. Each time a book was checked out, the cardboard card was slid into a machine, which made a "clunk" sound. The cardboard "date due" slip was, then, slipped into the book." When Tami would ask "HOW did they manage with C.D.'s, and D.V.D.'s?" I reminded my partner "At THAT time, neither of these existed. VHS was ONLY for the super-RICH, and music was on vinyl 45's, and 33 1/3." It was right as Tami was asking "Did you have electric street lights, or were the street lights still gas-powered?" This is when Mr. Berown would say "I hate to interrupt, but there IS a REAL case file, in development, here. I was hoping that, since YOU came from that city, you might have a better chance, of finding out if a haunting is real." I would have to remind Mr. Brown "With very few exceptions, Peoria is a completely different city, now, than what it was, as late as 1982." When Mr. Brown would ask "For example?" I would suggest "For starters, Sears riverfront store is gone. The old, waterfront, power generating station, has been replaced with a Walmart. And old bridge, which used to raise, and lower its "arms", like a drawbridge, to allow passage, of bargages, is gone. Its official name was "Franklin Street Bridge". Locals referred to it as the "Granny Franklin". "Last time I visited, even Tyng School had chopped a massive amount, of the old playground, for more classrooms spaces." When Mr. Brown would say "Fair enough. You haven't lived there, in awhile. Still, you know more, about the area, than others do." When I asked "Like what? That the street lights, along West Moss Avenue, in the high class part of town, still used gas flame, after dark? That Jumers managed to salvage several suits, of armor, from a fire, and re-mount the "sentries" to th sides, of the buildings?" When Mr. Brown would ask "Do you remember the drive-in's, along University Avenue?" When I would say "None that I remember, on University. The Peoria Drive In used to be just two blocks WEST, of University." When Mr. Brown would ask "Do you remember any OTHER drive ins, in the general area?" I would say "If I remember, correctly, the next closest drive ins were the "Belleview", and the "Pioneer". These were located on War Memorial Drive, not along University." When Tami would ask "What kind of movies did the drive-ins show, back then?" I would inform my partner "Until around 1977, the Belleview showed family movies. Then, the drive in switched to showing porn. Maybe a mile, beyond the Belleview, was the "family drive in" The Pioneer". To my recall, the Pioneer lasted until VHS came into blue collar homes. Belleview closed down sometime earlier." When Mr. Brown would ask "About WHERE, in Peoria, were the Belleview, and Pioneer, located?" I would say "Thats easy. War Memorial Drive, out beyond Northwoods Mall." When Mr. Brown would say "I dont understand. The file states that the "Star-Lite" is located just beyond Northwoods Mall, on War Memorial Drive." I would say "Trust me, boss. The Star-Lite is, or atleast, WAS, located WEST of East Peoria, past Twin Lakes swim center, and just before entering Pekin. The Star-Lite was, NEVER in Peoria. I would bet every penny I have, on that." Mr. Brown would say "If that is correct, I wonder WHY a piece of land, inside Peoria, is being refered to as "Star-Lite"?" I would suggest "Maybe, someone was feeling nostalgic." This is when Tami would ask "Whats the case?" Mr. Brown would say "Some clients are looking into some derelict land, and are considering developing it into their own version of the "Star-Lite". When I would ask "What for? D.V.D.'s have all-but-destroyed the drive-in experience." Mr. Brown would say "While I trust your memory, and background, I am sending coordinates, along with a case file. See if you can make any sense of it." As G.S.2 coasted over the city, where I had grown up, I found few, recognizable, landmarks. It, truly, seemed that my childhood home was "mutating" (For lack of a better word). While the land developers "twin towers", and the Pierre Marquette (which held the name Peoria Hilton, during my childhood) remained, I was, personally, not surprised when, via our wing camera's, I noticed that the civic center had, not surprisingly, been remodelled into an office building. The reason why this change had not surprised me was because the convention center, in our base town, had gone through major changes, just since the 1990's. For awhile, there had been auto shows, craft fairs, and concerts. All inside the weatherproof center. After awhile, however, some, local, churches had begun complaining, and petitioning the city, for more "family/Christian" oriented entertainment. These complaints came in, just as popular music, car shows, and so on, were, just, covering the convention centers operating costs. Now, while even I have my favorite, Gospel, music, the problem, which even the television show "American Idol" had, was having to learn, the hard way, was that religious music just doesn't "draw" listeners, as much as classic, soft, rock. Ironically, right about the time, when "American Idol" was presenting some of America's finest singing voices (People who had been raised, singing, in church choirs, then going on, to win this contest, even T.V. Guide had noted that, while contest winners had received recording contracts, the problem was content). These singers wanted to "Bring the Joy, of the Lord", to the listening public. The problem was that the listening public wanted soft rock, not church hymns, in daily life. As a result, record sales, of Gospel recordings, BARELY covered recording costs. In the case, of the convention center, in our base town, while the venue changed, from soft, and medium, rock, to Christian concerts, and prayer breakfasts, the centers operating revenue dropped far enough, into the "red", that the venue was changed, again. More recently, our local convention center had been offering a mixture of SOME Christian activities, along with an expanding bill, of more popular entertainment. As we coasted over Peoria's civic center-turned-office-building, I can only guess that "urban renewal" had not quite gone as planned. While I was a bit surprised to find the public library still standing, the area, surrounding the building was, noticably changed. So many, of the classic buildings, were gone. Replaced with parking lots. As to WHAT had "possessed" Peoria, to close off ANOTHER downtown street, changing a well-travelled road way (and one which travelled directly between St. Francis, and Methodist, Hospitals) into a public park, I have no clue. Of course, I never understood the reason why Fulton, between Jefferson, and Adams, had been closed off, in the late 1970's, first to become a parking lot, then to be dug up, and turned into a TINY park. I can only guess that the Peoria city council had its reasons. While it is true, that I spent most of my first 18 years in this city (and I had in-laws, in the area), the fact is, I had not LIVED in this city, for forty years. Even cruising over Main Street, as it curved its way up, a hillside, to Western Avenue, was changed. While the medical school remained, I could not help but notice that a two-story, doctors building, located just above the curve, had been replaced with another, tall, building. In fact, were it not for Bradley Universities classic buildings, I would not have recognized the area, at all. I would have suggested showing Tami the park known as Laura Bradley, but my "gut" told me that even parks were not safe, from "urban renewal". Instead, I gave the pilots directions, to turn north-west. This SHOULD have put us on course, for Northwoods Mall. I SHOULD have expected the mall to look much different. Much, of the parking lots, were gone, even as it appearred that the shopping mall had, also, "evolved" into an office building. Even the Montgomery Ward, and J.C. Penny, auto centers were gone, from the west side, of the mall. In their locations stood more video gaming. Cruising out of town, along War Memorial Drive, it took a few passes, to find the faint, weed-over-grown signs, for both drive ins. When Tami called up the computer records, she would say "Thats odd." When I asked "Whats odd?" Tami would say "According to these records, there is NO "Star-Lite", at this location. Both of these properties are listed as "abandoned"." When I asked Tami "Call up the coordinates, which Mr. Brown supplied." When she did, and the computer imposed them on a map, Tami would say "Thats odd. WHY would they want us to land on top of a parking deck?" I would say "Knowing the city council", as I, once, did, "they probably want to prove that helicopters can fly into town, drop off gamblers, then fly off." Turns out that I was WRONG, about this. DEAD WRONG. Once G.S.2 landed on the roof, of a parking deck, titled "The Dark Deck" (presumably due to its very DARK paint scheme), Tami and I were met with some very aged faces, of people I might have attended school with. A few girls, who might, at one time, have been the most popular, and most "beautiful" girls, in school, yet were, now showing the signs of age. Beautiful smiles were replaced, with business like looks. Smooth skin was, now, showing wear-and-tear. As for the few "men" I might have recognized, the strutting, muscular, creeps, who had made my school life a living nightmare (since I was "different") were, now, missing much of their hair and, where I had most of my muscle mass, in legs and shoulders, due to daily exercise, I doubt these men had even THOUGHT about exercise, in many years. It would seem, however, that I was not the only one with a memory. In fact, according to the "new" city council members: "We have enlisted YOUR aid, in particular, since some of us DO remember your ability to "see, outside the box". While some council members said they remembered me as the "shadow kid" (Someone who was afraid, of his own shadow, and REFUSING to FIGHT, to the DEATH, for his rights), others said "While speaking to my own children, about the recent trouble, I happened to remember that you, Jeffrey Sharpe, and Micheal Carrera, were among those, who kept to yourselves, and dreamed what most of us never considered." When one, very obese, man would say "I, STILL, say they was, and still are, nothing but a group of fagets", the main speaker would say "That will do! These are our guests. They are here to solve our problem." When Tami would ask "Just WHAT problem would that be?" The main speaker would say "We have, for lack of a better word, a "ghost problem", and we know of no other way to solve it, than to retain your services". When the fat man would say "Yeah, bring in a homo, to solve our problems." The main speaker would say "SIR! ONE more word, and you are OUT! Understood?" The fat man went silent. When Tami would ask "Just what KIND, or NATURE, of prohlem, are you plagued by?" Another speaker would say "You must, first, understand something. This town has been TRYING to hang on, since the 1980's. Everything from festivals, to gambling, to fairs, of every kind. While gambling is keeping us from going completely "under", the problem is that even gambling is not providing solid income. This is why we decided to try something new." When Tami would ask "Should I be afraid to ask?" The main speaker would suggest "When we learned, of a device, which allows paying customers to have actual conversations, with deceased persons, we, really, thought this would be a DRAW. People would come, spend money, talk to the dead, then pack up. We, never, planned for what happened." Another speaker would say "Thats for sure". When Tami would ask "Let me guess. You bought something, without KNOWING what it was. You had it installed, activated it, and now you dont know what to do with it. Maybe you dont understand the directions." The fat man would ask "WHAT directions. The creep, who sold us the junk NEVER gave us an owners manual." When Tami would ask "Let me get this straight. You buy something, to boost revenue, without knowing WHAT it is. You buy it from someone you dont even KNOW. Now, you are afraid to "pull the plug", since it will hurt revenues." The second speaker would ask "What plug? We spent DAYS trying to find out HOW the device is powered." Tami would try a new tact. "Okay, lets focus on the effects. WHAT, EXACTLY is the machine doing?" The main speaker would say "THAT is why we contacted your Mr. Brown. We dont know HOW, WHAT, or WHY, the machine is doing what it is doing. All we know is that, anytime some one asks about a person, the machine seems to DRAW the spirit to the area." When I would suggest "Why not reverse the controls?" The same answers came: "What controls? We cant find a control console, anywhere on the device." When Tami would ask "HOW did the inventor turn it on?" and the city council said "The man insisted upon secrecy. He would not install it, with anyone present." When Tami would ask "Without even an electrician present, to make sure all connnections were correct?" The main speaker would say "The man INSISTED upon it." then added "We have, already, called in an electrician and they cannot figure the machine out, either." When Tami and I stepped outside, for some air, and Tami asked me "HOW could they be so stupid? Buying something they dont understand? From someone they dont even know, and all on the vague "hope" of generating income?" I would remind my partner "You know, as well as I do, that Illinois is DETERMINED to be financed by GAMBLING "revenue", rather than manufacturing jobs. We, BOTH, know that the state has no intention of allowing manufacturing to return. What other "choice" do Illinois cities have? Without the service industry, what "future" does the state have?" (This is when I remembered a 1970's bumper sticker, which stated "Will the last person, to leave Peoria please/remember to turn out the lights?") For over forty years, the state had tried everything, possible, to stay on the map. Everything, that is, except the one thing the state REFUSED to do. Creating manufacturing jobs. Now, my partner and I had been summoned to "fix" the latest problem. After spending some more time, with the city council, including giving false assurances, that the matter was "well, in hand", that Tami and I took a stroll, in what is left of Downtown Peoria. So MANY, of the businesses I had grown up around. Places I never thought would go anywhere. Businesses, which had been a century old, before I was born. All GONE. The "new" downtown was as "alien" to me, as would be the Martian landscape. Almost NOTHING remained. Taking a walk, up Main Street, I remain amazed that the Madison Theater has not, long since, been bulldozed. (Seeing as how the theater dated from the days of vaudeville, when performers did live acts.) I was surprised to see the ancient sign, still, remaining over the ticket booth. When Tami asked "What does "Air Cooled" mean?" I told her "That is from the days before air conditioning. coolers, and fans, blew cool air, into the theater." When Tami asked "Did they, REALLY, have live plays, on the screen, in the days before movies?" I would say "Last time I was inside, the stairs, leading up to the stage, remained. The movie projection screen was set into the rear of the stage." When Tami would ask "A REAL STAGE. A stage, on which people performed?" I would say "Just like in the movie called "The Sting."" Ofcourse, Tami, being a twentieth century woman could, barely, conceive, of what life had been like, so long ago. Ofcourse, even I was a child, in the days, when theater marquees had "rolling", "flashing" lights, to announce what was playing. The days, when downtown Peoria was "alive", with shops, restaurants, and the streets were safe to walk. When Tami would ask "Are the rumors true, that city busses useed to "stack up", at quitting time, for that place called "Cat". I would correct my partner, saying "While Caterpillar did run a couple of shuttle busses, from their East Peoria plant, to the old Bergners, on Adams street, the busses were, never, "stacked". At shift change time, in the afternoon, the busses would "LINE UP", in a row, along the store fronts, then the shuttle bussees, from Cat, would drop off workers, who would, then, transfer to other lines, to ride home." When Tami would say "Sounds like a "mad house". I would say "Adams Street was NOTHING coompared to what plants KK, LL, MM, and so on, were like, at shift change. These workers, who wanted to avoid the "exodus" ran out of the plant, first, got in their cars, and sped away." When Tami asked "And the rest?" I would say "For the rest of the work-force, it was stop-and-go. Maybe as much as an hour, to make a fifteen minute trip." It was as we were approaching the library that Tami asked "I wonder WHY the city council REALLY chose the Brown Agency? There must be other, qualified, agencies, out there." This is when another, female, voice would join us, saying "I wouldn't say that." When Tami would turn, to the voice, and saw a woman, dressed in 18th century clothes, and asking "And you are?" The woman would say "I am, or rather, I WAS, the Lady DeWinter." When Tami would ask "If you are 18th century, French, royalty, then WHAT are you doing, in the continental United States?" When the Lady DeWinter would ask "You mean, what am I doing, in the 21st century?" Tami would say "That, too." The Lady DeWinter would say "It seems I have some decendants, hereabouts. As for HOW I got here, you can blame that contraption." When I would suggest "The ghost machine?" The Lady DeWinter would say "More like a ghost TRAP. I cannot return to my beloved, until that THING is dealt with." It was when Tami would ask "Are we the FIRST, that Peoria has contacted, with this problem?" This time the answer came from a rather proper, English, butler. A man who, in proper English would say "Heavens, no, my good lady. In fact, you are, probably, the eleventh, or twelvth group the humans contacted." When Tami would ask "Now, I am curious. WHY did the city decide to contact us?" The Lady DeWinter would say "Twas not the mortals idea." The butler would add "After weeks, of other "mediums", trying this and that, it was we, the spirits, who "encouraged" the city council, to seek out YOUR services." This is when a third spirit, that of a blacksmith, would add "You see, young lady, your reputation proceeds you, even in THIS place." The butler would add "Yes, the Chairman gives you some of the highest recommendation." The Lady DeWinter would add "It DID take a few dreams, during sleep, but we convinced the humans to undertake your services." Well, now we know WHY we were summoned. The question was "WHAT do we do?" Tami knew what her job would be. Processing the souls, for return to where they came from. I just never realized that there were so many French, Swiss, and Germans, among Peoria's population. MY job would be the real headache. It would be MY job, to figure out HOW the machine worked, and, more importantly, HOW to shut it OFF! I had thought back, to our original meeting, with the city council, and how a council member had said "If it were that simple, we would have pulled the plug, long before now." Tami would have the delightful task, of reporting, to the Brown Agency that "Yes, we have made contact. It seems the city bought a "gizmo", with which they hoped to increase tourism. The problem is, the city council never asked for, nor received, an owners manual. Result, my partner is working, basically, "in the dark", trying to figure out how to turn the machine off." (It should, also, be noted that it was NOT the humans, who proposed calling us in. It seems that the spirits made it clear that, either the city call US in, or the spirits would make every night, in Peoria Illinois, a combination of Halloween, and the worst nightmare movies, ever made.) Question: What if we can NOT find the off-switch, on the "gizmo"? When Mr. Black would say "No problem. Just e-mail me the schematics, and I will have an answer, within 24 hours." This is when Tami would have to inform Mr. Black "Sorry, sir, but this device has NO schematics, that we know of. I dont even know if blue-prints even exist." Mr. Black would say "In that case, its time to go 3-D. Use your optical camera's, and get "up close and personal" with the device." When Tami would ask "Do you think its safe?" Mr. Black woulld say "Who knows? I can not say until I see what it looks like." Even as I was looking for the power cord, Tami would hand me the optical camera's, saying "Mr.. Black wants images to look at. He says that, if we want his help, he needs to know what this thing looks like." Swell! Now I was on double-duty. Both looking for an OFF switch, AND now, I am scanning, as well. I shouldn't complain, though, since Tami was dealing with the soul, of an irate man. His anger was because his grand-daughter was schedule to give the Chairman a recital, the following night, and the man wanted to be present, when the girl performed. Lady DeWinter wanted to return to her husband, and the blacksmith said "I left my boy, all alone, to tend the shop." And these were just a few, of the dozens, of souls, which the "gizmo" had drawn to Peoria. When I could not find a power source anywhere, I was about to give up, asking "Where is an electrician when I need one?" When a new voice would say "Why, I am right here, young man. All you needed to do was ASK for help." When I asked the spirit "Okay, as an electrician, WHAT would be YOUR first step, in turning this thing off." The electrician would say "Thats easy. First, we turn it ON. All the way on. Then we see what it does. Get your meters out, since I only have my own tools." I figured that I had nothing to lose, especially since the images, that I sent, to Mr. Black, were useless, with this tech. All the scanners picked up were fuzzy blobs. While it took even the master electrician almost two hours, to find the power switch, when he turned the power up, to measurable levels, this had a most un-desirable side effect. We, actually, WATCHED what must have been the very painful act, of spirits, being pulled/yanked from their rest, by this machine. Even after we measured the power, and the electrician tried reversing the power, the souls remained trapped. It was when a magicians spirit appearred, suggesting "While I am stuck here, why dont I pay the inventor a "visit". Maybe I can "encourage" the man to assist us." When I asked the spirit "HOW do you know it is a man?" The magician would say "Young man, even I, a thirteenth century magician, can tell the difference between a man and a woman." When the butler would say "Please hurry. I have pressing duties to perform." The magician would say "Be right back." Twelve hours later, I was ready to rip the "gizmo" to pieces, when the magician returned, saying "The man claims to have no clue, about the machine. He, even, seems amazed that the device works. He has, however, made an offer, for re-purchase." This is when I would ask "Wait a minute. He says he has NO idea HOW the machine works, yet he wants to buy it back?" The magician would say "In a nut-shell. WHY?" I would suggest "IF he does not know HOW, or even IF, the machine works, WHY is he willing to buy it back?" When the Lady DeWinter would say "Who CARES? I just want to return to my rest." The other spirits would come around to my way of thinking. While the spirits were having their own "conference", about the matter, the electrician, and I, would be pulling up the floor, around the machine, until we found what we were looking for. The spirit would, then, tell me what tools I would need. Since I was the only mortal, and the machine rested in mortal space, I was "elected" to de-activate the device. Even with power tools, it was a laborous task. The breakers were industrial, and capable of carrying enough voltage, to send ME to the spirit world. Even after the power was cut, the electrician would say "Now, we have to let the energy dissipate, from the device. Only then can we "go home"." Since no one told anyone, that this thing had a two day battery, Tami had plenty of time for farewells, as the spirits prepared to return to their rest. It was during this time, when I, finally, had a "heart-to-heart", with my own father. Not father to son, but man-to-man. This, thanks to the electrician, and the butler. While my father would admit "I was not much of a father." I would admit "I was not much of a son." I would ask "HOW did we let my mother cut the family to pieces, like that?" The man would say "Son, you were just a child. You had no way of knowing. Besides, what child does NOT trust their own mother." I think that what "spooked" Tami was how similar my father and I were, in appearrance. I THOUGHT I had mentioned the family trait, to her, YEARS AGO. For some, unknown, reason, the first son, in each generation, is the exact likeness, of the father. By the time the souls were processed, Tami had asked "Might we visit YOUR high school?" When I asked "What for?" Tami would say "I am curious, about where you came from." After I gave our pilots the coordinates, of Woodruff, we were, soon, hovering over what I had, fully, expected to see. The ultra-violent Woodruff High School. The place were students were, openly violent, and deadly, towards one another, in my day, had a brand new use. Now, based upon the sign, mounted on the fence, Woodruff had, now, become a corrections facility. No longer a public school. Now, the center, for barbarity, had come to its true purpose. A corrections center. A place, where DISCIPLINE would be enforced. After this, we visited the housing sub-division, known as Lincoln Terrrace. I was not-at-all surprised to see the bulky, wooden, sign, announcing the name of the place, rotted down to just two, wooden stakes, in the ground. All that marked the entrance, now, was a simple, metal, stake, which held the street name "Wiswall Street". As for the play area's, I found it not surprising that all that remained, of the concrete benches, was their bottom platforms. As for the swing sets. Those crazy things, which were shaped, loosely, like soldiers, and other figures, each with one swing hanging from each arm. As we floated overhead, I was not surprised to see that only the footings remained. The swings long gone. So to was that ancient tree, at the top of the ridge, behind our old place. As for those wooden enclosures, where people stored their trash, until garbage day, these had "dissolved" into twigs, on the ground. The duplexes, of Wiswall Street, and Wiswall Court, had been built as cheap as possible. Whose knows what keeps the units standing. With a check, of local data bases, it would seem that Trewyns time, as a grade school did not last much beyond the time I was there. The data bases said that Peoria had HOPED to reduce costs, by closing an outdated school, and turning a junior high school, into a grade school. Problem was, the main drag, which was south, of Trewyn. A main drag, which was, almost, as busy as Jefferson and Adams. A main drag, where too many, young children had been injured, while trying to cross, to reach school. It seems that, after my family left the area, that irate citizens had ORDERED the school district to abandon the warehouse idea, and build a new, public, school. Trewyn would return to being a JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL. Still, with Caterpillar, Keystone, and other, industries, gone, the city was in steady decline. First, Tami, then myself, and, finally, Mr. Brown, were left to wonder what Peoria would try, next, to generate income. How FAR was a community willing to go, to provide for its people, while REFUSING to create manufacturing jobs? That, and the fact that Peoria had not, actually, returned the device to the owner. Instead, the device was at Bradley University, being studied by the electronics department. Mr. Brown seemed sincere when he cautioned us "Dont get too comfortable. We may have more work to do."

THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF GHOST SHIP TWO

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF GHOST SHIP 2 After wrapping up the Mystery of the Gold, Ghost Ship 2 had just stopped off, for some "minor maintenance", and re-fuelling, when what SHOULD have been impossible, actually happened. It was while Tami and I were relaxing, with a tour, of the latest, in America's arsenal, of military bases, world-wide, that Tami and I found ourselves called to the Command-and-Control center. WHY was a question, which we, both, wanted the answer to. Funny thing was, on the way to command, Tami and I observed a stealth bomber, taking off, from a camoflauged runway. When Tami would remark "Isn't it amazing how similar that plane is, to ours." I would promise her "Relax, our pilots are under contract, to the Brown Agency. They would, never, leave us behind. That has to be ANOTHER, stealth bomber." When Tami would ask me "Just how MANY stealth bombers does America have?" I would suggest "By now, maybe 500. War-planes are shot down, everyday." It was only once inside the command center that Tami and I heard the base commander asking "Any word, yet?" When communications would say "No, sir. Either their radio is off, or they are ignoring us." When the base commander would say "Give them five minutes to respond, or shoot them down." When the weapons officer would say "Shoot them down?" and the commander would say "Thats right, target all weapons." When the weapons officer would say "There is no need to repeat the order. Target that plane." This is when weapons control would ask "Sir, HOW do we target a stealth bomber?" The commander was just saying "Lock comp..." when the man realized that radar wont lock onto stealth. It was when the commander would ask "Give me the names of the pilot, and co-pilot, of that plane." The personnel roster was just being brought up when our pilot would say "Sir, that would be us." When the base commander would say "Dont be in-subordinate. HOW can you be flying that plane, when you are here, in control?" Our co-pilot would say "THAT, sir, is the question, of the day." After that, our pilots would identify themselves, as retired air force, and the personnel officer would verify this. When the base commander would order "Scramble our F-18's. I want to know WHO is flying that plane." Both our pilots, and Tami and I would like the answer, as well. Our pilot would, only, caution the commander "Sir, have your pilots exercise extreme caution, at any distance closer that five miles." When the commander would ask "Soldier, WHY is that?" Our pilot would say "Five miles is the point where our on-board computers would run diagnostics, to determine friend-or-foe". When the base commander would ask "What weapons are you armed with?" Our pilot would say "Primary weapons are a 30-calibur chain-gun, on the port wing, and a 50-caluber chain-gun, on the starboard side." When the commander would ask "Explosives?" Our pilot would say "Two crates, of C-4, extra ammunition, for the guns." When the commander would ask "Ordinance?" The pilot would say "Nothing, for combat. Our plane is civilian." While this exchange was going on, the two F-18's had flown off, and were closing with G.S.2. When the commander would ask "Who is at the controls?" When the captain, flying the lead plane, would say "As far as I can see, there is NO one, in the cockpit." When the base commander turned to our pilots, asking "battle-control center?" Our co-pilot would say "Never installed. The plane was rejected, from the stealth program. It is not equipped, for battle." When the base commander would ask "IF it is not equipped, for battle, then HOW does it seem to be flying itself?" Our pilots only shrugged. It was common knowledge, among air force pilots, that planes were being programmed so that, IF a pilot were in-capacitated, the plane would return complete its assigned task, then to base, on "automatic". The problem was that this programming was limited to planes, which were accepted, by the air force. There was no reason to equip a reject, like G.S.2, with the same programs. It was not until the lead fighter plane tried to crowd G.S. 2 onto a new course, back to base, when a cry was heard, inside control, then an explosion. After this, the wing-man came on the radio, saying "Leader down. Request permission to open fire." When the base commander looked at our pilots, the men shook their heads. This, while telling the base commander "Only if you want to lose another plane." When the base commander would call out "Options?" The best that another could come up with was "Arrange mid-air re-fuelling, for the F-18, and keep the bomber in visual range, so we know where the renegade is going." When the base commander called to the F-18, asking "HOW did that plane take out your leader?" The shaken pilot would report "Starboard gun-turret. Blew the canopy, and shredded my commander." The base commander would say "Son, I want you to stay in visual, with the renegade. Do NOT approach. Re-fuelling is enroute. Repeat, Stay in visual contact, with renegade. Is that understood." The pilot would radio "Roger that. Remain in visual ops, but do NOT engage." After this, the base commander would order "Contact the Pentagon. I want to know EVERYTHING, about that plane." Communications would say "In work, now, sir." The commander would, then, turn to Tami, myself, and our pilots, suggesting "For the present, it would seem you are our guests." Tami and I, as well as our pilots, KNEW what Mr. Brown would say, to that. There would be no guess work. Mr. Brown's orders would be short, and simple. "You are on-the-clock. I want to know WHO has our plane, and why. You will be authorized, within the hour, to utilize all, available, military data banks." Tami and I knew that our boss was as good as his word. In fact, within the hour, not only did Tami and I have full access, to everything, known, about Ghost Ship 2, but our pilots were, actively, working, with the air force, to determine what could be done, about our plane. IF it were possible, everyone wanted the plane returned, in a single piece. Sure, it was a stealth reject, and, yes, the plane was worth several hundred million tax-payer dollars, but the main question, which everyone wanted the answer to was HOW the planes computers could have been "hijacked". In fact, by the time Tami and I had access, the Pentagon had grounded ALL of America's stealth fighters, and bombers. No, computer-assisted, plane was going airborne, until the ship could be trusted. What neither the pursuit pilot, nor an air force mid-air re-fueller, could understand was HOW G.S.2 managed to take on fuel, from the same plane, which had just re-fuelled the F-18. It was just after the fighter craft was re-fuelled, and the fuel plane was preparing to turn away, when the fuel planes crew found their plane non-responsive, to human input. The F-18 pilot would report, to base, "Renegade attempting to take on fuel." and was just about to report "Fuel plane denying access", when the F-18 watched as the red, rejected light, on thee fuel probe turned green. Moments later, the fuel plane crew would radio "Renegade has overridden our codes. Estimate ten seconds to full tanks." About the only "good" news, which Tami and I had, for Mr. Brown, was that, so long as pursuit craft did not make hostile moves, Ghost Ship Two seemed not to object to having "company". Still, Tami and I were working our way, through Pentagon files, looking for possible hackers, when our pilot asked "Do we know who designed, built, and programmed, our plane?" It would come as NO surprise that the bomber had been built by America's largest, well-known, and highly respected, plane designers. A company, which housed more secrets, than Area 51. According to company records, however, while the company had designed, and built, the plane, its programming had come from an "outside source". This, is an incredibly stupid attempt, at cutting costs, by "outsourcing" the work. It was not, however, until air force personnel, and my partner, attempted to find out WHO the software engineer had been, that, it seems, we "tripped" some kind of "alarm". This presented a message, saying "In-competent war-mongerers, by now you understand that you no-longer control your war machine. **I** control this device, now. As to the reason why? That is simple. This flight program was designed, for peaceful aircraft, such as relief supplies delivery. It is YOU who have perverted this purpose, by turning our humanitarian gesture into a device of murder. As a result, this device, of lethal destruction, will, now, be turned on your OWN doorsteps. You will have twenty-four hours to consider the consequences, of your actions." When our co-pilot would ask "What device of destruction? Ours is a civilian aircraft. We could not bomb anything, even if we WANTED to." This is when Tami had a terrible thought. "Our airborne garage." When our co-pilot would ask "What about it?" Tami would ask "Wasn't that space, originally, designed as a bomb bay?" Our pilot would say "Ma'am, you seem to have forgotten. All of the bomb components were pulled out, when you accepted the plane. All thats left, in that compartment are your car, and his Jeep." This is when I would ask "Does the ships programming KNOW that?" All anyone could do was shrug. When I would ask "How much damage might an automobile, and a Jeep, do, if dumped, from altitude?" It seems that, again, no one had a clue. This, since, it seems that no one considered dropping motor vehicles, from altitude. When Tami would suggest "Why not contact the programs designers, and have them just take out the errant programming?" The base commander would say "No can do." When I asked "Why not?" The base commander would say "As soon as this "snafu" showed up, we called up the programmers records. In case we needed them to de-bug the system." When Tami would say "Makes sense, you would keep track, of your programmers." The base commander would say "Bad news is, the programmers are, ALL, dead." When Tami would ask "HOW is that possible?" The base commander would say "Checking on that, right now." I would suggest "Just how recently DID the programmers die?" The base commander would say "Records say three years ago." I had, barely, said "No connection, then.", when a military, computer, programmer, would suggest "A delayed action timer." When the base commander would ask "A three YEAR timer?" The computer programmer would suggest "In theory, a computer program may be set decades, in advance." Tami would ask "You mean, our plane was set to go "rogue", even BEFORE we accepted it?" The programmer would say "It seems so." This is when our pilot would ask the programmer "Would it be possible to program the gun turrets, to fire, automatically?" The programmer would suggest "IF the computer was programmed to believe that a force was hostile, the computer would have no problem, taking the target out." When Tami would ask our pilot "What are you suggesting?" The man would say "Suppose the plane "dumped" items, located in its weapons bay, on the White House, or Capital Hill, then was programmed to "take out" anyone, trying to get away, from the attack?" Our co-pilot would say "Man, those guns are loaded with thousands of rounds, of ammo. Granted, your motor vehicles would be destroyed, on impact, but the plane is programmed for very low level flight." The base commander would ask "How MANY innocents could those guns "take out"?" Our co-pilot would say "Maybe 2,000." When the suggestion was made, to "take out" G.S.2, with missiles, the air crew would say "No good. Stealth is programmed against such attacks." In fact, the closest thing, that any one came up with, to an actual idea, was to try and "scramble" the planes guidance, using AWAC's, then trick the plane into "attacking" a "city", of military choosing. A "city", such as a Hollywood back-lot, where television, and movies, were filmed. The "plan" was to steer G.S.2 towards a small-scale model, of Washington D.C., and let the plane expend its "ordinance". Once this was done, the programming SHOULD come to an end (along with our automobiles). It is just a very fortunate thing, that AWAC's can jam signals, from 200 miles away. As a result, even when G.S.2's computers sensed the alterations, our gun turrets were useless, on such a distant target. With four AWAC's planes, working together, G.S. 2 was re-directed, to what it THOUGHT was the East Coast, and the White House. From a cruising altitude, of 5,000 feet, the computer dumped our motor vehicles, on the Oval Office. While the impact flattened our vehicles, like pancakes, the "White House" sustained very little damage. After "bombing" the White House, G.S. 2 deployed its gun turrets, just as expected, and "took out" any, moving, objects, which were detected. Hollywood special effects had been most creative, in creating the illusion, of movement, for the guns to lock on to. It may have taken half an hour, for G.S.2 to use up its "ordinance", but the plan worked. By the time the guns ran out of ammo, and the plane ran out of fuel, when the computers found no fuel planes, the plane used its last drops, of fuel, to land, at L.A.X. While our pilots had, originally, been assurred that ALL military protocols had been erased, prior to G.S.2 being released, for our use, this time, both of our pilots stood by, as every memory chip, and bit, of data, were wiped, from the ships core. While our pilots were overseeing the "rehabilitation", of our planes computers, Tami and I were dealing with another mystery. The mystery of WHY, while the computer programmers were listed as "Deceased", that there were no records, of burials, head-stones, or locations, of markers. It was as if, one day, the programmers were alive, and the next day, they just did not exist. When Tami asked the military programmers about codes, called "back-doors", everyone, involved, promised that any "back doors", into our planes computers, no-longer existed. Our machine was a "blank-slate", ready to be re-programmed. The Brown Agency WAS able to learn the reason why the programmers had been so passionate, about the use, of their work. It seems that, on one project, the programmers had been paid, to write code, to keep things OUT of a system. When the programmers learned that the code had been turned "inside out", and used to keep PEOPLE inside, and that, when people had tried to leave, the program had shut off all ventilation, suffocating those trapped inside. Once the programmers learned that their program had killed innocent people, they had turned to writing codes, to protect the public, from such abuses. What Mr Black found odd was the fact that the programmers had "vanished", shortly after creating a program, which would allow users to scan incoming calls, for listening devices. Coincidental? As for the Hollywood set, and our motor vehicles, some, of Mr. Browns, anonymous, clients seemed happy to cover all of the costs. About the ONLY part, of the re-fit, which our pilots did NOT find funny was when our replacement ammunition arrived. Our pilot WOULD have signed off, on the shipment, untill he read "Depleted Uranium". When the retiree would ask "Since WHEN does the air force allow civilians access to depleted uranium?" While th air force quartermaster laughed, saying "Just checking, to see if you are awake." Our pilot would say "Save the jokes, for food stores, and fuel."

BICYCLE THEFT PREVENTION

HOW ONE CITY BROUGHT AN END TO BICYCLE THEFT For far too many years, bicycle owners, and their families, had been resigned to pay out as much as $5,000, per year, to replace stolen bicycles, and parts. This was due to the fact that bicycle thieves KNEW, from YEARS, of experience, that local police could not care, LESS, about the theft, of personal property. Thieves KNEW that, all the police did, each time a bicycle was stolen, was to file a memo, stating where, and from whom, the bicycle was stolen. Since a device, known as Lo-Jack, was only available, for motor vehicles, there seemed to be NO local effort, to recover stolen bicycles. That is, until an irate bicycle owner, who had MULTIPLE bicycles stolen, in a single month, dared to challenge "law enforcement", by placing a question on the internet. The question would be: "While it is well-known, that beeper-style tracking devices may be attached, to radios, cell-phones, and laptop computers, and that such devices will emit a "beeping" tone, if mis-placed, I am looking for a device which, instead of "beeping", will display, on a smart-phone screen, for example: "Current location (of tracking device): 809 S. Wiswall Court, Peoria Illinois." When the best response, to this question, was "try a cat/dog tracker" At first, only one, crime, victim, would have this installed, on their bicycle. (Other bicycle owners were skeptical that police would even devote time/effort, to bicycle recovery.) Only after the tracker-equipped bicycle was stolen, twice: Once, as a gift, for a child Second, out of revenge, for parent and child, being arrested, and prosecuted, for the bicycle theft That the local media would post an article, which infuriated the police. It would seem that the theft victim had started a letter-writing campaign, asking local department stores, and bicycle sales shops, to begin selling "tracker-equipped bicycles". While department stores declined the suggestion, even posting signs, on bicycle sales displays, stating "Bicycles are NOT tracker equipped." Followed by the names, of bicycle shops, where bicycle owners could have trackers installed. When the media would ask why the department stores were declining to sell "tracker-equipped" bicycles, the department stores were unanimous in saying "We cannot afford to sell, at discount prices, if we add electronic tracking, to bicycles." When local bicycle shops were interviewed, however, staff would inform the media that "At present, there is a three week wait", due to the fact that bike shops had to wait until trackers were delivered. To the horror, of local police, first one, then fifty, then 250, tracker-equipped bicycles were stolen. Police were compelled to re-assign officers, to retrieve the stolen property. Soon, however, the use, of tracking, resulted in the media reporting that the theft, of bicycles, had decreased, by 85%, even as twelve, seperate, bicycle theft rings were shut-down, with staff arrested. Since state prisons were, already, over-crowded, courts decided to have thieves serve time, using ankle trackers. Ofcourse, this meant that parole officers were required to increase the size, of staffs, to accomodate thieves, who just did not CARE, about the law. Atleast 25 such people were required to be transported to out-of-state prisons. This especially after using very profane language, in court, to inform judges "I dont CARE! If I want a bicycle. I AM taking it." Soon, first a city, then an entire county, then an entire state, would earn the title of "Safest place to own a bicycle." When the plans originator would be questioned, by the media, about the apparent "Racism", of only arresting Negroes, for bicycle theft, the plan originator would re-state the question, more correctly. "It is my belief that these arrests are NOT "racial". It is my belief that, as trackers have been installed, on bicycles, that white thieves "saw the writing, on the wall", and switched, most likely, to snatching purses, wallets, and even jewelry." The remaining thieves, probably, thought they could use "Racial Discrimination", to beat sentencing. This is why these people were on their way, to prison sentences. Eventually, even the department stores "saw the wisdom", of marking bicycle displays as "Each bicycle, in this store, is electronically, tracked". What the city police were, only marginally, happy about, was when stores began providing police departments with lists, of tracker numbers, as well as owners names, and addresses. What this meant was that, instead of victims having to call law enforcement, and PROVIDE tracker information, owners could call police, give names, and addresses, and police could begin tracking stolen bicycles, immediately. Result: The first, of the continental forty-eight states, would make tracking a part of every bicycle sold. Result: Career theives would be required to move on, to other kinds of theft. With Lo-Jack tracking 75% of American cars, and bicycle trackers, tracking just as many bicycles, the life, of criminals, was becoming more difficult, than ever. Ofcourse, bicycle tracking not only all but eliminated bicycle theft, however, on several occassions, where cyclists were injured, trackers would be used to locate the injured, hours faster the injured would, otherwise, be located.

THE NEW BRADY BUNCH # 5

THE NEW BRADY BUNCH #5 GREG'S NEW CAR While Mike, and Carol, Brady, would be the first to admit that Greg was no more an "angel", than any other high schooler, in any school, across America, Mike's agreement, with Greg, had been simple, and direct. Greg was allowed Driver's Ed, on the condtion that he maintained his other grades, at acceptable levels. Also, after Drivers Ed, Greg would be allowed to buy a car ONLY if he earned the money. Since Mike Brady was no fool, Mike also had Greg promise "I dont care WHAT the seller says, about a car being a "hot item", or "Other people are waiting, to see the car", or even "I cant guarantee the car will be here, if you need to talk to your folks, first." Unless you agree to let me LOOK at the car, before you buy, it will be "No deal". Understood?" Greg would say "Right, dad." Mike, and Carol, Brady never gave a second thought to the business, which had employed Greg. Since the job was just weekly deliveries, neither parent thought anything of the venture. This was, probably, atleast in part, to the fact that this was the THIRD business, in the community, to "resurrect" an old, established, company name. Sure, the "Pen Mens Shop" had, at one time, been a source, for drafting supplies (Back in the days when Mike Brady was, newly, married, to his FIRST wife). Now, the "Pen Man Shop" was a novelty store, selling all manner of writing instruments. Everything from office pens, to family heirlooms. Then, there was Wagners Market. A small, neighborhood, store, where kids could buy candy, soda, and ice cream, while adults could buy aspirin, soap, shave cream, and so on. What had made the Wagners shop so special was the stores "home delivery service." Thanks to the internet, however, "home delivery" was available, from any store. This is why the Wagners could neither compete, with the corporate chains, nor remain in business. The Wagners closed up shop, before the business failed, completely. (As a small, neighborhood, market, Wagners just could not compete with supermarket prices.) Recently, however, a group, of nostalgic retirees, had re-opened the shop, hoping to feel useful, and the preserve a "piece of the past". This is why, when Witmans Drugs re-opened, and Greg was offered a delivery job, no one thought, twice, about the company. After all, Witmans Drugs had been doing prescription work, for another neighborhood, for decades, and had only moved to the Brady's neighborhood after some corporation bought up the other sub-division, kicked the family's out, then turned the area into a commercial development, which only the super-rich could afford. Mike Brady was the first to understand the problem, since his firm had been declined the contract, to design, and build, the new development. Once Mike Brady knew that a five-star, international, firm, was being used, he understood what was coming. Since, even during his younger years, Mike Brady knew that Witmans Drugs was a small operation, Mike had been the one to, actually, suggest which building the Witmans could move into. A building the store would inhabit, for years, before taxes, and the internet, made neighborhood businesses all but obsolete. Now, sure, the new group was using a new location, for the store, but even the Brady's knew that stores move about, over the years. As for Greg's job, it would consist of picking up packages, and delivering the packages, to marked addresses. Once customers called the company, to verify delivery, Greg was paid for the trips. Once Greg had been working, for awhile, he found some decent cars, which he THOUGHT looked cool. In each case, however, Greg, and Mike Brady, ran into the same problem, time after time. Owners, who would be happy to allow purchasers, to test drive cars, but ONLY AFTER purchase was completed. At the first, two, stops, Mike Brady told sellers "No deal, without a test drive, before sale." When the owners said "Suit yourself. I have other buyers lined up." Mike Brady would say "Good day, then". Starting at number three, when owners would not even give Mike the ignition keys, to turn over the motors, Mike took Greg, by the collar, and lead his son away from the cars/sellers. Despite Mike's directions, however, Greg ended up placing a downpayment, on a car, located on a used car lot. This, Greg did, because the lot owner saw Greg's "interest", in a female customer, and offered Greg a "deal". The owner would tell Grreg "If you give me the downpayment, now, and sign the purchase contract, I will make sure her telephone number lands in your hands". After Greg signed the contract, and produced the cash, he returned home, both to inform his parents, of the deal, and to sign up for insurance. Mike Brady, however, was ready to "scalp" his son, when Greg brought the news home. When Mike put down his drafting tools, and joined Carol, in saying "Lets SEE this wonderful car, which our son has purchased." When Greg would say "No, dad, the car isn't here." When Mike would ask "Where is it?" Greg would say "Still on the lot. I haven't insured it, yet." Well, atleast Mike Brady was happy that his son remembered not to drive, without insurance. When Mike would suggest "WHy dont we hold off, on the insurance, until after I SEE the car, in action." When Mike drove Greg back, to the dealership, neither Mike, nor the dealer, seemed happy to see one another. While the dealer HAD moved Greg's choice off the "front row display", Mike was not as impressed, with the wax job, on the car body, as Greg was. While the cars interior looked as clean as the exterior, when Greg popped the hood, Mike's suspicion was how CLEAN the engine looked. (Mike wondered WHY the car was so clean.) When the dealer turned the keys over to Greg, saying "Go ahead. Turn her over." While the engine SOUNDED good, Mike would tell the dealer "We will be right back. I just want to see how it rides." When the dealer would say "Fine, by me", what Greg had missed, in his enthusiasm, for the girls phone number, was how this cars gears ground, as Greg shifted. While shifting OUT of PARK proved a bit of a challenge, Mike was not-at-all surprised when, in REVERSE, and in DRIVE, the car didn't even coast. When the dealer would say "Give it some gas, son. The gears are just a bit rusty." When Mike went to exit the car, Greg would call out "Let me put it in PARK, first." When the shifter would not move past REVERSE, Mike would say "I think I will "risk" getting out, now." When Greg tried to turn off the ignition, which would not dis-engage, while the car was in gear, the dealer slipped under the hood, banged on something, then told Greg "Now". When the car slipped into PARK, and Greg shut it off, the dealer would say "A swell car, isn't it." Mike looked like "sure". Greg would hop out of the car, reminding the dealer "You said you would get me that girls number." This is when Mike woulld place his hands on the door frame, asking "Greg, tell me you didn't fall for that one." Greg would ask "Fall for what? The dealer said that, if I bought this car, he would give me the girls phone number. Right sir?" The dealer would say "Thats correct, my boy. As soon as you finish making the payments, her number is all yours." Mike smilled, when Greg said "Buy that time, I will be too old to care." When the dealer would say "A deals a deal." Mike would say "May I SEE the contract?" The dealer would say "For $50.00 access fee, certainly." When Mike chuckled, saying "$50.00 access fee? We are talking about a piece of paper." The dealer would say "No, Mike. We are talking about a valid contract. Now, how soon do you want to remove YOUR car, from MY lot?" When Mike would tell Greg "Come on, lets go." When Greg would ask "What about the car?" Mike would say "Leave it. Its not going anywhere." The dealer would say "Not true. Any items left, beyond thirty days, go back into inventory." It would be just one week later, when Mrs. Brady's mini-van was being towed from a ditch, that Mike would agree to assist Greg in choosing a "sensible" car. Niether Carol, nor Mike, faulted Greg, for the tow, since a friend admitted that Greg had swerved, to avoid hitting a pre-schooler, who had wandered into the street. It was not until Greg saw the car, which Carol, and Mike, had chosen, for their son, that Greg went from feeling "high school", to feeling "senior citizen". Mike had, also, used his friend, in the District Attorneys office, to review the "car dealership". The dealer remained as clever as ever. He was, still, using paid actresses, to lure young men onto the dealership. Every, young, man, wanted the girls phone numbers, and the dealer saw this as a great way to make sales. Promise the boys the girls phone numbers, in return for automotive purchase contracts. Since the girls were, never, paid to do more than look interested, in the cars, the D.A.'s office decided not to file charges, against the actresses. When the state moved the dealers cars into test centers, it was found that, around 60% of the dealers inventory had to be towed in. The cars were in such shape, that they would not operate, on their own. By the time the state mechanics were finished inspecting the cars, the dealer had done what Mike Brady expected the man to do. Just as the man had done, twice before, the dealer "skipped" the state, to avoid prosecution. While Carol, and Mike, were happy, with Greg's new car, When Carol asked Greg "I thought you WANTED a car. You said you waanted the FREEDOM, right?" Greg would say "I wanted something HOT. Something SMOKING. Something with STYLE." This is when Carol would suggest "I suppose a four-door sedan does not fit the bill." Greg would say "I might as well be an honor roll geek. No girl will want to go out with any guy, in a sedan." When Marcia would pop in, saying "Nice sedan. Just like the one I..." then Marcia realized her mother was present, even as Carol would ask "Just like the one you WHAT?" When Marcia would say "Nothing, mom." then try to leave the kitchen, Carol would say "JUST one moment, YOUNG lady. WHAT did you mean by "Just like the one I...". When Marcia would say "Its nothing, mom." Carol would say "THATS the kind of "nothing" which bothers me." When Marcia would look at Greg, saying "A little help, here?" Greg would say "No chance. I wouldn't miss this..." When Carol looked at her son, and Greg would say "Sorry, mom." This is when Carol would ask Marcia "One more time. WHAT did you mean?" Marcia would say "Fine, mom. You remember that pizza party, for Michelle. Well, we "borrowed" Lucy's parents car, for the drive, to the pizza parlor, then back to their home." When Carol would ask Lucy's parents gave their permission, right?" then it occurred, to Carol "Lucy is only 14. WHERE did she get a drivers license?" Marcia would say "NO one was supposed to know. I'm sorry I mentioned it." Carol would say "I think you will be MORE sorry, when your father finds out." Before dinner, Mike Brady would discuss the matter, and the consequences, of the previous actions, with Marcia. This, even though the event, in question, had occurred almost two months before. Every time Mike would ask Marcia "Do you understand what would have happened, if..." Marcia would counter with "Nothing happened, dad. We were careful. No one even missed the car." To Marcia's horror, Mike would say "I think its time we, parents got together, on this matter." Marcia would think "Now, I will, REALLY, be known as a fink." At the parents meeting, Carol, and Mike, were surprised to find out that the other parents considered "borrowing" a car to be "small potatoes", compared to other problems. The Brady elders would, soon, find themselves facing another, more domestic, crisis. While Mike and Carol, were NOT in favor of Greg having the sedan painted, what concerned the parents, most, were the mounting bills, for the parts, which Greg was installing, in the sedan. While Mike was not "in favor" of Greg exchanging the sedans 14 inch, standard, wheels, with 18 inch, Mag, wheels, what concerned Mike, most, was the cost, of the modified, suspension, system, which the Mag wheels needed. When Mike asked Greg "How much, of your salary, are you saving, for other expenses?" Greg would ask "WHAT other expenses?" When Mike would suggest "Clothes, food, and shelter." Greg would say "Not to worry. By the time I leave home, this will be the hottest machine, on the road." It would seem that what Greg had not counted upon was needing more than a paint job, and Mag wheels, either to drag, or to impress the girls. That, and the fact that, while Greg heard rumors, that drivers dragged, for cash, it was not until Greg was ready to wager $500, to cover his first race, that the other draggers laughed, at Greg, saying "We dont drag, for money. We drag for car titles." When Greg watched the heavily-modified drag racers race down the road, then Greg's "friend" would say "How about a drag. Your car, versus mine." When Greg would say "Maybe later." the guys returned to the drag. When Greg made a list, of what his car would need, to compete, Greg was in for bad news. Any parts, commercially available, would have cost Greg half a years salary. The majority, of the parts, however, were only available, to professional drivers, and Hollywood stunt people. When Greg asked where his friends found their car parts, Greg was confused when one of his "friends" told Greg "Meet us at this address, at half past midnight." Greg was about to mention his parents rule, that, while living at home, Greg was to be IN-doors, by eleven P.M. That is, until his "friend" added "Unless you are afraid." That night, for the first time, in YEARS, Greg Brady would slip out, of the house, after hours. This, because Greg wanted to know WHERE his friends got their car parts. When the boys met up, at 12:15 A.M., at an old, storage, warehouse, Greg would ask "Why are we meeting, here?" His friend would say "You wanted to know WHERE we get our car parts." The boy pointed at the warehouse. When Greg would say "Thats a warehouse. What has this got to do with car parts?" His friend would say "Dont be naive." then add "It only LOOKS like a warehouse." When Greg, still, semed confused, his friend would whisper "Chop shop". Then add "Now, lets go. Security wont be back, until 1 A.M." When Greg said "I think I will stay here." his "friend" would say "Chicken.", then the other boys would move out, toward the warehouse. Because of the fact that his mother had married archtitect Mike Brady, Greg, Peter, and the rest of the family, could not help but "pick up" knowledge, of design. This included knowledge of security design. More, and more, of Mike Brady's designs, called for replacing simple keys, and pad locks, with key-pads and, even more often, with palm print analyzers. "Multiple-level security systems" Greg remembered Mike calling the security systems. Greg Brady was relieved, that he had stayed behind, after his "friend" walked up to a key-pad, entered a code, then the guys opened the fence. Once the guys were onto the property, Greg knew the trap was sprung, from the moment when Greg used a pair, of compact binoculars, to watch a steady, green, light, on the warehouse, turn to three, pulsating, green lights. Greg knew th boys had only five minutes, to deactivate the alarm, and prevent a police call. When Greg watched, as the laughing boys just strolled right past the REAL, security, key-pad, Greg KNEW it was time. The boys had just picked the pad-lock, on the door, and where "collecting" some car parts, when one of the boys saw flashing, blue, lights, through the warehouse windiows. When a voice called out "Put the parts DOWN." and one, of the boys asked "Who are you?" A muffled, pistol, shoot caused a very REAL stain, to appear, on the boys shirt sleeve. The other boys immediately dropped their loot, claiming "Honest, we didn't know anyone was here." When the voice asked "WHO told you, about this place?" the wounded boy decided to "save" himself, by saying "Greg Brady told us of this place." When the voice asked "WHERE is this Greg Brady?" The vandals would mention the hiding place. When someone walked out, of the warehouse, then returned, saying "Nobody there." The voice would say "Check on this Greg Brady. See if he actually exists. As for you three." The boys were lead from the warehouse, to what seemed like a most unusual sedan. With the amount of time it would take, for these "thugs" to locate high schooler Greg Brady, his "friend" was certain of one thing. Between the time, when the vandals tripped the alarm, and security arrived, Greg Brady had more than enough time to make a "Bee-line", for the Brady house. In fact, by the time the thugs sources called the police department, then woke the Brady's, asking to see Greg, the boy had been home, and asleep, for almost three hours, before being awakened. This is why the police would say "Sorry for the intrusion. Bad tip. Good night." Neither Mike, nor Carol, had to ask Greg if he had, really, been at home, all night. Greg's eyes were as blood-shot as his parents eyes were. What worried Greg was when his friends did not show up, for school, for a couple of days. When the boys DID appear, the gun-shot victims "patch" looked as though intentionally crude. (The school nurse would be required to report both the wound, and the patch.) What Greg found suspicious, beyond his friends bumps, bruises, and so on, was how the normally-arrogant, self-centered, and blustery, boys seemed silent, and withdrawn. Soon after the boys were returned, their families homes were ransaked, and their dragsters were stripped of all of the re-stolen parts. At each boys house, the message "Let this be a lesson." was left, in plain sight. While families had no idea what th words meant, the boys were silent, and humble. What Greg Brady found most difficult, to accept was having to make the CHOICE, between going on dates, OR paying record prices, for car parts. Then, there was the problem that, every time Greg replaced a part, with a racing part, this placed added stress on the remaining parts, causing older parts to fail, faster. As a result, while Greg, technically, had a "set of wheels", he was reduced to bicycling, in order to afford car parts. To make matters worse, when Greg asked Mike, and Carol, for "date" money, all his parents would do was ask "Greg, WHICH is more importannt? Your car, or your dates?" When his parents saw that Greg could not decide, both parents told their son "Take your time. Let us know what you decide." While Greg no-longer held the dream, of becoming a pro football star, in order to take the job, as a delivery boy, and pay for his car, Gregs quest, for stardom, remained beyond his reach. Greg wanted to be a REAL someone. Someone girls would swoon over. His dream, of building that sedan, into a drag racer. The problem was that Greg had to figure out how MUCH his dream was worth. For Greg, the big "let down" came the day when, after replacing the spark plugs, and spark plug wires, with racing units, the car revved up, seized up, then died. While none of the Brady's were mechanics, the family was fortunate to have a neighbor, who was a retired office worker, and certified mechanic. It was after the mechanic took a look, under the hood, that the mehcanic would inform Greg "Congratulations, my boy. You have blown the engine." When Mike Brady would ask the mechanic "How MUCH will it cost, to repair the engine?" The mechanic would say "Mike, you dont understand. Greg put racing parts on a cruiser engine." When Greg would ask "How much to re-build?" The mechanic would say "Cheaper to replace the car." Mike Brady was no fool, though. After thanking the mechanic, for the review, and sending the man on his way, Mike Brady would say "Greg, Peter, grab the tools. Remove everything we can salvage." When Bobby would ask "What about me, dad?" Mike would say "Bobby, I want you to make sure that everything we remove is set up for neat display. Not a pile of parts. A showcase." Alice would say "I will grab an old sheet, to collect the parts on." Carol would add "I will help Bobby sort the parts." The very next day, at Westdale High School, Greg never had a chance to follow the family motto, of informing customers of what condition an item was in, before selling the item. It would take Greg Brady all of ten minutes, to sell the sedan, to a group, of ball-players. It was only due to the fact that the players had practice, after school, that Greg was able to beat them to the Brady house. When Greg asked Carol "Mom, I know dad said "Always be upfront." about selling things." When Carol would say "That is true." Greg would ask "Mom, what if a buyer would not LET me tell them, about what they were buying? What if they offered me cash, and offered to take the car, as is?" While Carol was un-certain, Alice would chime in, saying "If the buyers wont let you explain, then its their loss." Carol would say "In that case, I agree with Alice. As long as you didn't TRY to withhold information, the loss is theirs." It was when the players showed up, to see the car, that the trouble erupted. While none, of the boys, noticed that the 18 inch Mag wheels were replaced with standard tires, the time, when the boys decided that Greg had defrauded them was when they popped the hood. When they found none of the racing parts, and were ready to attack Greg, that the boys were in for a surprise. Their own fathers would appear, among other neighbors, asking the potential attackers "DID Greg Brady offer to sell you a car, which was equipped, for racing?" When one, of the boys, said "Dad, we KNOW Greg put the parts on the car. He TOLD us how exensive the parts were." When a father would ask "Scott, when you BOUGHT the car, did you ASK Greg Brady what condition the car was in?" Scott would say "No, sir. We just assumed." Scott's father would say "You just assumed your friend would sell the car, with all the expensive parts, left inside." It was when Lionel would say "Greg gipped us. All the cars cool stuff has been removed." This is when Mike Brady would step forward, asking "Did you ASK my son if he left the racing parts on the engine?" Lionel would say "No, sir. We just asumed." This is when Lionels father agreed with Scott's father. The men would inform Mike Brady "We will have the car towed, as soon as possible. Please accept our apologies, for our sons actions." Mike would say "Since no harm was done, I agree." Before the last, of the boys, departed the Brady property, Brian asked "Greg, what DID you do, with all those parts?" Brians father would say "Never mind." While the parts were no-longer "factory new", the Brady's were able, with Mikes assistance, to find a web-site, where the parts could be sold. Greg would only receive 2/3 of parts value, however, as Mike said "Better luck next time." What would annoy Gregs high school friends was how much Greg had learned, from watching Mike Brady conduct business, in the time since his parents marriage. Un-like most people, who accepted projects, and purchases, at face value, Greg had noticed that Mike hade a regular habit, of asking detailed questions. Questions, which included "What kind of facade?", "What period?", "Window dressings?" door treatments, fireplace surrounds, and other questions. When Greg had asked "Dad, if YOU are the architect, WHY are you asking people what they want?" Mike had explained "Son, an architects job is to listen to clients, form their idea's, then come as close as possible, to what clients want." When Greg would say "I thought your job was just to design buildings." Mike had said "We are not talking about soap, toothpaste, or D.V.D.'s, here. Archtitects do not just put out items, and say "Take it or leave it." If we did, you would not have a bedroom, to sleep in, or food to eat. We ask questions, then give clients what they want." This is why, when Gregs "friends" would ask if Greg wanted to buy a "retired" dragster, Greg would ask "When can I look it over?" When his "friends" would ask "Dont you trust us?" Greg would follow Mike's advice, of "Never buy anything you have not seen." When Greg would ask "Why not take a look. This way, I KNOW what I am buying." Gregs eyes would have "sparkled", when he saw the shiny car. That is, until Greg remembered the used car lot. When Gregs "friends" would ask "What do you think? A hot deal?" Greg would say "Looks great. Lets look at the engine." When his "friends" stalled, asking "Dont you trust your own class-mates?" Greg would say "Sure, I trust you. I just want to look at the engine." When Gregs "closest friend" would say "You dont trust us." Greg would say "All I want to do is LOOK at the engine." It would seem that the auto shop teacher was listening in, since the man made an appearance, asking "Mr. Perkins. Mr. Brady, here, has asked to see the cars engine. Now, be kind enough to display your work." When Sam Perkins hesitated, the shop teacher would join Greg Brady, in saying "Lets look at the engine, together." When Sam Perkins, and the other students, tried to back away, the shop teacher would say "Mr. Perkins, Mr. Longmire, Mr. Livingston, you will remain where you are, until Mr. Brady, and I, examine the engine. Is that clear." When Gregs "friend" would place a hand on the car hood, saying "Engines fine." The shop teacher would say "Remove your hand." When the student did so, the shop teacher would say "Now, let us have a look at this..." and lifted the hood. The shop teacher would ask "Mr. Perkins. Is this a joke?" As Greg, and the teacher looked under the cars hood, only to find a toy, plastic, engine, along with a cardboard sign, glued to it, saying "Payback, Greg Brady." When the shop teacher would ask "WHERE is the REAL engine?" When the students did not answer, the shop teacher would say "I may be wrong, but I think the school principal will agree that this is felony fraud." When one, of the students would say "But, it was just a JOKE!" Sam Perkins would say "Besides, Greg never agreed to buy it. So, ALL you have us on is ATTEMPTED fraud. Maybe a months worth of detention. Big deal!" That is what Gregs "friends" thought, until they went before the new, school, principal. A woman, who had studied law, and was preparing to go into private practice, but only until the previous principal had resigned, over a combination of Sally's death, school reporting policies, and her objections, to Nevada's "No Contact" contract. Martha Donaldson had been focusing her legal studies, on home, and family, law, since her desire was to assist needy families with defining, and understanding, family, and childhood, law. After the princial had resigned, due to the "excessive exposure", caused by the schools "Rape/Sexual Harrassment" policy, Martha Donaldson was one, of several, lawyers, who agreed to advise the school board, on student matters. When Martha began to realize that the other six lawyers were just "sitting back", and answering questions, about what was "legal", Martha became more active, with laying out guidelines, for school policy. Martha was astounded when, as she came forth, defining problems, based upon the law, the other six lawyers "faded from view". Martha had hoped that her goal would be to direct/advise the school board, in adopting a simple, sane, policy. It was when Martha listened, as school board members just kept asking one another "HOW do we do this?" Martha realized that the school board, like the attorneys, all wanted "someone else" to take the liability, for new, school, policies. This is why Martha had drawn up three variations, based upon common sense regulations. (Martha had no idea that, when asked which plan might work, best, that she was being "baited") While Martha never claimed to having a teaching degree, she agreed to accept the challenge, of recruiting the new principal. Until this, new, person, was chosen, Martha Donaldson agreed to serve as "advisor", to Westdale High School. While her "tenure" was only a few months old, Martha had decided that, simply sitting in a room, for Detention, was not adequate punishment, for high schoolers. (For grade school children, yes. For young adults, no) For high school, which Martha Donaldson suggested should be "Final preparation, for adulthood", "Detention" took on a whole, new, meaning. Martha even asked a local womens sewing group to create some awfully bright colored vests, all labelled "Detention". Martha Donaldson had decided that "Detention" should mean "Benefit the community." As a result, each day, after school, volunteers, referred to as "Detention Monitors", kept watch, while trouble-makers bagged trash, cleared fallen tree limbs, and performed all manner, of community upkeep. When a group, of enraged parents, had written a "Letter to the Editor", stating that students were NOT "criminals", the local newspaper responded, with an article, saying "The neighborhood never looked better. Those, annoyingly squeeking swings, have, finally, been silenced. That draggy round-a-bout has not worked, so smoothly, in decades". While Martha Donaldson never, officially, accepted the role of principal, it seems her "advice" was altering students behavior. To avoid the new "Detention", Westdale students were acting more like students behaved, in the late 1800's, to mid-1900's. No-doubt, this is why, as the automotive teacher lead Gregs "friends", to Martha's office, the boys "envisioned" themselves, in those terrible vests. While Martha Donaldson made notes, covering everything, from Greg Brady's conversations, regarding purchasing car parts, to Gregs alleged "swindle", of selling the car, minus the parts, and concluding with the engine. Martha, then, made the schools position CLEAR. Martha would say "While you admit that Greg Brady informed you of his auto repair plans, my notes state that, at NO time, prior to your purchasing his auto, did you ASK Greg Brady if the car had been altered." When Sam asked "Whats that got to do with anything? Greg sold us a lemon." When Martha asked Sam "Did you ASK Greg Brady what condition the car was in, before you bought it?" The boys just looked at one another. When Martha would say "I thought so. You, simply, assumed the car was left in tact." Shortly after this, the boys agreed that the plastic engine WAS deliberate, on their part. For this reason, Martha would rule "Under the laws, of this state, I retain the right to charge you, each, with felony fraud. However, since this is your first, OFFICIAL, offense, a court of law would sentence you to 2-5 years. That, AND a permanent record, to "haunt" you, throughout your adult lives." When Bruce would say "My father would KILL me, if that happened. Whats the alternative?" No-sooner would Samuel Perkins say "Shut Up!" then look right at Martha, saying "Do your worst." This is when Sam's co-horts would say "Speak for yourself. Ms. Donaldson, HOW do WE avoid criminal records?" Ms. Donaldson would say "IF you are serious, I willl recommend leniency. to the board members. If they agree, you will join the Detention squad." While the board WOULD vote, to allow leniency, for the three co-horts, it would seem that not even the monied friends, of Samuel Jenkins father, were willing to defend the boy. (Not with Samuels past record) Samuel Jenkins would be sentenced to serve his remaining, school, years in juvenile detention. As for the Hot Rod, when the auto shop teacher asked Greg Brady what he wanted to do, Greg suggested "If we could locate another engine, I could drive it out of here." The teacher would say "The car can only remain, for five days. If you dont have an engine, by then, the school will have to sell the car, as scrap." Two days later, at the local junk yard, Peter would aid Greg, in pulling an engine, from a demolished dragster. When the auto shop teacher saw the engine, he looked at the class schedule, suggesting "Since re-building an engine was on next months "to do" list, anyway, the class now has two weeks to make this engine not only operational, but to prove that the car can be driven, under its own power." While it would take atleast a couple of days, just to clean the engine up, the teacher would have to instruct th students, on proper re-assembly, of sections. At the end of the two weeks, Greg's shiny, "new" dragster would purr out of the auto class shop. Deceitfully neither loud, nor menacing, yet with horse-power, to spare. At this point, Greg thought he had life "made in the shade". A delivery job, a new car. How much better could life get? That is, until the day Alice took a phone message, saying Greg was no-longer to report for work. When Greg would ask, Alice would say "They didn't leave a reason. The man just called, saying you no-longer work there." A short while after this, Jan was watching the news, she would call Greg, and the other children, to the television. On the T.V. screen, Whitman Drugs was being raided, by the D.E.A.. According to the on-screen reporters "The D.E.A. has received un-confirmed reports, that Whitman Drugs was processing illegal drugs, via its warehouse facility." When Mike would say "I dont believe it." Greg would say "Believe it. My boss said the company takes in drugs, from across America, and distribute the drugs to customers. I tought they meant prescriptions." When the reporter would mention "Cases, of Marijuana, and Cocaine, are being seized, as we speak." Mike Brady would, no-sooner, ask "WHAT do they expect pain relievers to be made of? Cotton candy?" When Greg would say "I guess I need to find another job. Mike would say "Until you do, THAT car, is sitting. Your mother, and I, can, barely, afford current expenses. Now, I want you to promise me, Greg. That car does not move, until you find a new job, and can afford insurance." Swell. Greg Brady, finally, had the car, of his dreams, but he wasn't allowed to drive, until he could afford insurance, and gas, money. What could, possibly, happen, next?