Paticus' Past, Volume 19:Halloween Edition...The Haunted House

The Haunted House

  I guess I was 5 or 6…Maybe 7. Maybe older… I don’t really know. My family was at some amusement park that included a haunted house. Part of me is thinking that it was the “Haunted House at Long Branch”, but I think that’s only true if there was a smaller haunted house there as well, because I can’t quite imagine wanting to enter the major Haunted House at Long Branch.

  I figure I must have said at some point that I did want to go into the haunted house. I don’t know why I would have said this, but I’m guessing that I did, because I am pretty sure that neither of my parents would have tried to force to me to go into a haunted house. Knowing myself fairly well, I am also pretty sure that I would have been fairly terrified to go into the haunted house. I don’t know if my Dad decided to go into the haunted house because I said I wanted to, but was clearly scared, or if I decided that I would go because my Dad was going. Either way, we did go into the Haunted House.

    A little aside here, as a kid, I did have a bad habit of being rather indecisive, and I think I drove my parents fairly crazy. I remember one time when we were down the shore, and there was a water slide. Everyone else in my family was going on the water slide. I wanted to go on the water slide. No I didn’t. Yes, I did. No, I didn’t. You getting the picture? I also did not have a swimsuit. I do remember that my parents  bought me one, so I must have been pretty convincing for awhile that I really wanted to go on the water slide. Only I didn’t. And that was the final outcome. I did NOT go on the water slide. So, that is a little insight into what the lead-up to the haunted house might be.

    This time, I did go through with it. We went into the haunted house. I honestly do not remember all that much about it, but there is one thing that I do remember. We were crossing this “bridge”(which I’m sure was a foot off of the ground, but at the time, I might as well have been above the Grand Canyon), and I recall that these other kids(damn teenagers) who were in the haunted house decided that it would be funny to jump out at us. I thought I was going to fall into the canyon, and I reacted with the correct amount of terror for such a fall. I didn’t think it was very funny, and neither did my Dad.

   I didn’t hear exactly WHAT my Dad said to them, but I do know that he grabbed a hold of at least one of them, and made it clear that scaring his kid was NOT a good idea. I think at the time I probably embellished it a bit, and imagined that my Dad tossed them over the bridge and things like that, but I’m guessing it was just a few choice words.

    I would like to say that I was super brave for the rest of that trip through the haunted house, but that’s not really the case, but I was a little bit emboldened by the fact that I knew my Dad had my back. Just like he always did.

Paticus' Past, Volume 18: That Neil Diamond Song Used To Scare The Hell Outta Me.

That's right, guys and gals, it's time to climb into the wayback machine and take a swim in old Lake Paticus.

  Let's go back to 1980, maybe 1981. A cute little ten year old with a fairly active imagination who goes by the name of Paticus is fast asleep in his bed.

  Paticus has been asleep for a few hours, and he is experiencing a dream state now...More accurately, a nightmare.And yes, I do still remember the details of the nightmare. Yours truly is being chased through an old apartment building(or actually a sitcom depiction of old apartment buildings, I think my subconscious constructed it out of  memories of "Good Times" and "The Jeffersons) by this creature with an alligator's head who was chomping the heads off of everyone in sight. It was a pretty bloody and disturbing dream.

  Just as GatorHead was closing in on me(I was cowering behind a couch{plaid, of course}), I woke up. Two things happened when I woke up.

  First: My pants were thrown over the foot-board of my bed, and they looked EXACTLY like a silhouette of GatorHead. This scared the shit out of me(though I did respond by attacking my trousers and throwing them onto the floor).

    Second: "Love On The Rocks" by Neil Diamond was playing on the radio. For years afterward, hearing that song would fill me with that same feelings of dread that I felt when I saw those GatorHead pants on the foot-board of my bed. THAT'S how Neil Diamond used to scare the shit outta me.

  Even now, I prefer to listen to Neil Diamond in a well lit room whilst I am wide awake.

Paticus' Past: College Moments #1

So, the semester officially started here at the SouthEastern university where I work(I'll give you a hint, it rhymes with Blorida Flate University), and it got me thinking back to my old University days(I went to a school in the Midwest, I will protect its' anonymity, but it rhymes with Schmurdue). It reminded me specifically of my first semester at school. And more specifically, it got me thinking about this class that I took, a biology class.
  I needed to take 2 semesters of science in order to graduate, and I decided to get them out of the way my first year, as I have very little...okay, NO aptitude for science, and I am also extremely lazy, so I knew that I would not get myself motivated to "embrace science" or anything so kumbaya-ish as that.
 There was this introductory Bio class that had no lab(it had a longer meeting on Thursday mornings, but that was to go over the concepts from the lecture), and basically seemed to be designed for idiots like me who were only taking science because they had to in order to graduate. The Professor also included the grade curve in the syllabus, so I even knew how many points I needed to aim for in order to pass.
  So, I took the class, and I went to the LARGE lecture on Tuesdays and to the lab on Thursdays. Easy enough.
  A few weeks into class, I realized that one of my dorm mates, "Jeff"(I call him that because that was his name) was in my class, as we saw each other at the LARGE lecture.
  The following Thursday morning, I went to the lab, and afterwards was hanging out in the lounge of our dorm. "Jeff" walks in and asks me where I was.
  "What do you mean?" I answer his question with a question.
  "Why weren't you at lecture today?" He answered my question with yet another question.
  "There's no lecture today," I scoffed.
  "Yes there is." I now realized that everyone in the room is looking at me.
  "No. There's lecture on Tuesday, and he lab thing is on Thursday." These facts, as I knew them, were stated with no conviction.I realized that I had completely missed half of the lectures so far.
  "Yeah," he said,"and then there's another lecture today." He smiled, and then the smile started to turn to laughter, and that laughter spread through the lounge. There really was not much I could do but sit there and take it. I had officially outed myself as a moron. I lit myself a smoke and let the laughter rain down on me.

Paticus' Past: Volume 17 : The Shootout at Fantasy Island

My Special Lady and I spent our last couple of years in Los Angeles(or "L.A.", as I like to call it) living in an apartment that was next to a place called "Fantasy Island"...Now, Fantasy Island was either a bikini bar(where the waitresses are serving in bikinis-I don't know if there were dancers or not) or a strip club, depending on whom you asked. I never went inside to find out, so I cannot tell you for certain.

 What I can tell you is that it was an interesting place to live. The laundry room for our apartment building(which was actually two sets of  four apartments in a row) was a little free standing room that was directly behind our apartment. To get to it, we would step out our back door, open the wooden gate, and literally take about 6 steps, and there would be the laundry room.The club usually had someone in the parking lot, and I think they were generally there to keep people from annoying the neighbors.And they did a fairly good job of it.

  I remember one time, I stepped out to go to the laundry room, and one of the bouncers was scanning the lot. i said hello, and he turned around and said this: "Hey...Um, it might be better if you went back inside. There was just a guy out here with a knife, and I'm not sure where he went."  "You got it. Thanks." I replied,and stepped back into the house.

  And then, there was the shootout. No need to rub your eyes, you read that correctly: The SHOOTOUT.

  It was a Wednesday night, and my Special Lady and I were settling into watch an episode of "Law & Order"(this was 2000 or 2001, I think), when we heard that sound...It sounded kinda like firecrackers, but we knew it wasn't any firecrackers...And it was pretty LOUD. We both actually hit the floor.I don't remember how long it lasted, it probably wasn't more than a few seconds, maybe a minute, but it sounded like quite a few gunshots.

    We stayed on the floor for about an hour and a half...No, I'm kidding, after a few minutes, we got up from the floor. After a few more minutes w heard people talking outside, so we thought we would go out and see what happened.

  The cops were gathered outside,and there were a bunch of those little yellow markers they put on the ground by the shell casings. It was kinda like being on a cop show...Sorta like that one on NBC...Oh, what's it called...It's been on forever...It'll come to me later, I'm sure.

  The police asked us about what we heard, and we told them. they said that it was most likely two different people shooting at each other...FROM OPPOSITE SIDES OF A CAR! Two people standing on opposite sides of a parked car, shooting at each other.We didn't hear anyone scream like they had been shot,and there was apparently no evidence of blood, so they MISSED EACH OTHER!!! How crazy is that ?

  I couldn't help imagining the scene from either the Naked Gun Movies or the Police Squad tee vee show(In Color!) where we see to ends of a shootout, only to have it revealed that the guys are two feet from each other.I laugh every time.

  The reality is that they were probably firing into the air(one of the neighbors who lived behind the lot and across an alley{not in our building, maybe hundred feet or two hundred feet away} said there was a bullet hole in his wall the next day), but I still can't get the image out of my head.

  And there you have it...the Tale of The Shootout At Fantasy Island.

I will leave you with the message from Fantasy Island after 9/11:

Paticus' Past:The 'Stache...

This is, unfortunately, NOT a Halloween picture. I wish that it were. I'm not sure whether I look more like a narc, or like an extra in a porn movie. Of course, it is not just the 'stache, the HUGE aging movie star-style glasses do not help.
I found this picture while I was visiting my Mom over Christmas. based on the other pictures, it seems to be an Easter picture, and my best guess is that it is '93 or '94.
I cannot remember ever having just a mustache. I have had facial hair off and on since I graduated from high school. I used to grow a beard in the winter, and then shave it off some time in the spring. I have not shaved off my beard or mustache since 2000, I think(the last time I was clean shaven was when I was Velma from Scooby Doo for Halloween.), but I do my best to keep it neat and trimmed.
Anyway, as I said, I cannot remember ever having just a mustache, and I think that this picture is a pretty fine example of why that is the case. Don't get me wrong, I think that many people can rock just a 'Stache, I am simply not one of them.
Well, I don't think there was much point to this post, so I guess I should just go on my way.
Check ya later.

Paticus' Past, Volume 15 : Ghosts Of Halloween

Okay, in honor of Halloween, I have combed through the photo vaults at Sandwich Flats SouthEast, and I have come up with some of my past Halloween costumes. Unfortunately, some were apparently not captured for posterity. I do not have photos of me as Matt Foley the Motivational Speaker, Krusty The Clown, or Alice from Alice in Wonderland(for which I kept my full beard).
Here is what I do have:

Princess Leia(that is my real hair comprising the famous sidebuns), with My Special Lady as Charlie Brown in his ghost costume from the Great Pumpkin.



Me as Harry Caray(or more exact, will Ferrell's impression of Harry Caray, which I do quite well if I do say so myself), and My Special Lady as Fall.

Me as Obi-Wan Kenobi


Me as the Mad Hatter, with My Special Lady as a Goddess.


Me as Velma from Scooby Doo(the last time I was clean shaven, by the way), and My Special Lady as Marge Simpson
Finally, me as the Bride of Frankenstein.

A closer look at the hair- my actual hair, and the grey streaks are real.

And finally. my favorite pumpkin, ever- the Pulp Fiction Pumpkin..It looks like the pumpkin has been shot in the forehead, and it's brains are all over the window.

There you have it. Some memories of Halloween's past...

If anyone reading this happens to have any other Halloween pictures of Paticus, send em to me, would ya ? Thanks.

Paticus' Past:Volume 14: I Guess We Gotta Get A New Car

That's right,Crimestoppers...Memory Lane again.Only this time we're DRIVING on Memory Lane, and we're only going back a few years. October of 2005.
My twin daughters had just been born six weeks earlier, and it was the day we were going to pick them up from the hospital. I know I should know the day exactly, and I am a bit ashamed to admit that I cannot remember the date. I think it was October 22nd, but I'm not exactly sure. I'm sorry.

I do remember that I went down to get something out of our car that morning, and as I crossed the alley to the car, I noticed a rather big rock just kinda hanging out on the ground next to the car, and I thought, "Funny, I don't remember putting a rock next to the car last night." As I reached the car, I realized that I had not put the rock there. Somebody else had put it there, I presume because it was the most convenient place to put it after he used it to break the window of our car. Yep, someone had broken into the car.

I surprised even myself by not getting particularly pissed. This will sound very corny, but nothing was gonna ruin that day. My girls were coming home. What the fuck did a little window matter ?(okay, insulin shots for everyone, on me)

I went back inside, got the dustbuster and some cardboard and my old trusty roll of duct tape, and I fixed that fucker right up. And we went to pickup the girls.(Little side story. A guy came out to the house to fix the window a few days later, and he saw the car seats in the back and asked me about them, and I told him we just had twins, and he congratulated me, and asked me what they were. I said two girls, and he said he was sorry, with a real look of sympathy, and then, based on how he said that his kids were boys, it was clear that I had lost the macho contest. My sperm had failed at producing boys(and man, if he read the Fertility Odyssey, he would know just how horribly my sperm had failed-and he probably would have checked to see if I had boobs), and for that, he was sorry. I just kinda smiled at him.)

Before we could pickup the girls, we had to stop elsewhere at the Hospital and meet with the Car Safety Lady. Normally, she would just inspect the car to make sure the car seats were in properly, but because I am a mechanical idiot and I could not figure out how to get the god-damned motherfucking things into the son of a bitching fuck of a car, she was going to help us install the car seats as well.

She was a very nice Car safety Lady, and she used some tricks of the trade(Some shelf paper and some of those foam tubes kids use in the pool) to get the car seats super snug in the car. Since they were for newborns, the car seats had to go in backwards, of course(that much I did know, though to this day,My Special lady is still in charge of putting the car seats in), and this caused a bit of a problem.

Our car was a Saturn SL1, which is a small four door sedan. I am six foot one or so. And I am not tiny either...Okay, I'm fat. Though to be fair, most of this problem was because of the length of my legs. That's right ladies, Paticus has got some stems on him, and when I tried to get in the car, I could not fit. I went to push the seat back, and the Car Safety Lady told me that I couldn't, because the front seat of the car could not be wedged against the baby seat. I looked at her for a second, half expecting her to bust out laughing, but she didn't. Well then, I guess My Special Lady will be driving the girls home from the hospital.

Which is exactly what happened(remind me, by the way, to tell you the tale of us checking out of the hospital-when I think of the poor nurse that had to push a wheelchair that contained my fat ass, one of the girls in a car seat, one of the heart/lung monitors that they had to have attached to them, and countless other items, I still have to laugh), and as we drove home from the hospital, me wedged into the passenger seat,knees in my face, it became apparent that we were not going to be able to drive this car to Tallahassee. We were gonna have to get a new car.

We still had a loan on the Saturn, so we pretty much had to buy another Saturn, since that was where we bought it used, and they would give us the best deal on the trade in. Man, that's a clunky sentence, if I have time, I should probably fix that. So, we went to the Saturn dealer, and it was apparent that we were not gonna be able to get away with another sedan, so we looked at the...sigh...Minivan. But here's the thing, it wasn't a mini van, it was a VAN. This fucking thing was ginormous! My Special Lady climbed into it, looked around and said, "I don't think I can drive this."

So we had to look at the Vue. The Vue is the Saturn SUV. Shit, I did not want to buy an SUV. I just didn't. But then we learned some stuff about the non- four wheel drive Vue-it basically has a car engine, so it's like a station wagon, no huge gas tank and all that. That eased my mind a little.

We test drove it, and it was nice. We sat down, "ran the numbers", and we drove out of there in a new Vue(Chicago Edition- I still don't know what that means), or as it is now called by my girls- "Daddy's Silver Car".

Paticus' Past Volume 13 : High Plains Quarterback...

That's right folks, we're on memory lane again. This time we are visiting the dorms. That's right, Paticus Goes To College !!

There are lots of collegiate stories to tell, but since I'm feeling kinda sporty today, I thought I would tell you about the "High Plains Quarterback".

It was my freshman year at an Indiana university that we will call "Murdue" to protect its' reputation. I lived in a dorm that consisted of several small buildings that each had ten rooms in them. The story was that they were old temporary Army barracks, but that was never confirmed. the other rumour was that if one of the buildings ever caught fire, it would burn down in like 10 minutes or something, thankfully, that one was never confirmed either.

Anyway, there was a flag football league set up. We decided to form a team. And let me tell you...We were not good. At all.

And that made people happy. You see, were very unpopular in our dorm. the RA's didn't like us, the other tenants(at least most of them) didn't like us...In fact, I would say about a quarter of the people in our little group of 18 probably didn't like us. Why didn't they like us ? Well, we were different. And, to be honest, being different in West Lafayette, Indiana was not a great thing to be(just ask Axl Rose), at least not at that time, I found the freak community later on, and things got a bit easier. As a result of being different, and being treated as such, we probably kinda became douche bags in rebellion. Those are tales for another time, though. Let's just say that it got to the point where the R.A.'s were doing nightly walkthroughs in our unit. And before one of these walkthroughs, wouldn't you know that somehow all of the furniture from the lounge ended up in the bathroom. Crazy, huh ? They didn't think it was very funny.

Back to the football. We played a game or two, and we sucked. Imagine the Bad News Bears, but older, and if they were hungover and or stoned all the time, then you have us.

One day, while we were practicing, we noticed this dude watching us. He was wearing a baseball hat, and the sun behind him formed a halo of light around his head.We started talking, and it turned out that his girlfriend lived in our dorm, and he was just hanging out there. We asked if he felt like playing, and he said sure. And he was GOOD. really good. So he joined our team, and became the quarterback. And we started winning games.

We won a lot of games. In fact, we ended up in the Championship game.

The morning of the championship game, we receive a phone call from the head of the league telling us that he received information that our quarterback did not actually live in the dorm ,so he could not play in the game. Can you say, conspiracy ?

Well, we played in the game without our best player. And we played inspired flag football. it was like his spirit was guiding us, willing us to victory. And if not for some "phantom penalties" against our team(including one for one of the players on our bench accidentally stepping on the field BETWEEN plays), we might have won. But it was not meant to be. We came in second. And I hope those officials are proud of themselves. Bastards.

As we stood on the field, dejected, I swear we saw him, our High Plains Quarterback, over on a distant hill, and he tipped his baseball cap, and disappeared is a shimmer of sunlight.


I can't remember our mystery quarterback's name. I don't recall that he ever gave us one. But he took a ragtag bunch of misfits and brought them to within one technicality of a flag football championship. And for that, I will always remember him as our High Plains Quarterback.

Paticus' Past:Volume 11: The Broken Leg

It's still fun to see the look on people's faces...

"I broke my leg once." I'll say.

"Really ? How ?" they will inquire.

"Got hit by a dog." That's when I get the look. I can tell that most people want to burst out laughing(and a few people have)but they don't want to seem heartless, I suppose.

You're all laughing now, aren't you ? Sure you are...It's easy when you don't have to see the pain in my eyes...The terror as I relive those moments. You heartless bastards.

What's that ? You "gotta hear this story" ? Fine, I'll tell it.

The year was 1973( I know because I was 2 and a half at the time, so it was probably somewhere around March or April...Perhaps on a night much like this...), America was perhaps saying goodbye to NBC's hit game show Concentration, and hello to a little album called Dark Side of the Moon by a visually repellent quartet from England, Pink Floyd, and a young Irish-American boy did not want to stay in his crib in suburban New Jersey.

My parents had guests over(they may have been relatives..It's all hazy, amid the pain and the subsequent painkillers), and young Paticus could not get to sleep knowing that these people were not paying attention to him. Apparently, young Paticus did not like to go to sleep. He was also not fond of the dark, so his Mom would leave the door to his room open, letting the hall light give him some comfort. This allowed young Paticus to converse with anyone who may walk by his room.

My oldest sister is fond of telling a tale wherein she was walking past my room, and she hears,"Pssst.." coming from the crib. As she turns toward me, I said"Do you want some candy ?" Her immediate thought wass,"where did he get candy". as she got closer, I said it again..."You want some candy?" As she got to the crib, I held out my hand and there were ten little black pieces of something in my hand. She took them, and realized that I had pulled all of the fingers off of a rubber King King doll, and was offering them to her as the "candy".

But I digress, on this particular night,young Paticus can hear the people downstairs having fun, and he wants to be a part of it. So, young Paticus makes an impassioned plea to his parents, and they finally relent. I think this falls into the category of..."Be careful what you want".

My Mom came and got me, and I don't know how long I was down there, but apparently, our dog, a German Shepard named Casey, was also very excited by the fact that the family had company, and he was running laps through the house.

On one of his laps, I apparently stepped in his way, and in my Mother's words..."Went flying into the air, and when you landed..well, you landed wrong." I think "landed wrong" might be a bit of an understatement... I broke my left femur.

I was in traction for 6 weeks, I think, and then I was in a cast for another few weeks(maybe six as well, I don't remember). I have been told that while I was in traction, I called the nurses "girlies" and I refused to let them come near me, as my Mom was going to take care of me.

One of the few things I do remember is that when they took the cast off of my leg, I refused to get down from the table,a s I was afraid I would break my leg again. I remember that fear.

There you have it, Crimestoppers, the Tale Of Paticus' Broken Leg.

Paticus' Past Volume 10: Under The Knife

Did you bring your swim trunks ? Good, as it's time once again to take a big dip in Lake Paticus !!

Recently, I was strolling through the archives here at old Sandwich Flats, and I came across a post wherein I promise Feral Mom that I will tell the tale of my toe surgery.

Feral Mom, your long wait is over...

Lessee...I guess I was 13 or 14 or so. I do know that I spent about a month visiting my sister at her house in Western upstate New York, and working on a farm. Whilst I was there, the big toe on my right foot started to hurt. It was a bit red, but i figured that was from wearing work boots and working on the farm(Have you ever "picked rocks" ? I have...But that's a tale for another time).

I returned home to suburban New Jersey, and I figured that resuming my lazy-ass, sneaker wearing ways would help my foot. I was wrong. Eventually, my foot looked like this:

okay, that's not true. My foot looked MUCH WORSE than that, but I don't feel right subjecting you to some of the photos I saw when i searched "ingrown toenails".

That's what it turns out I had. My toenail had become ingrown, and then got INFECTED. I chose to capitalize INFECTED because my toe was really fucking infected. In fact when we went to see Dr.Henry(Does anyone else remember a cartoon PSA series called "H.E.L.P.! Dr. Henry's Emergency Lessons For People!" ? -That runs through my head every time I think about Dr. Henry. In fact, at the time, I used to say " Doctor Henry's Emergency Lessons For People" whenever we would mention him. Okay, enough of that.), he told me that if we had waited much longer, the infection might have reached the bone, and then I would have lost my toe. YIKES !!!

Thankfully, I was not going to lose my toe. However, I was going to have to lose the root of the nail on the right side of my right big toe. Without removing the root, it would probably just keep growing back under the skin. Yick.

Before Dr. Henry("H.E.L.P. Dr. Henry's Emergency Lessons For People !!") could do the operation, we had to rid the toe of infection. I started taking antibiotics,and I was told to soak my foot in VERY DILUTED bleach. Would you like to know what would happen if the bleach wasn't diluted enough ? Funny story...It would BURN your foot. Good times, good times. I sensed that maybe something was going wrong, but you see, i was always a wuss, so my parents just thought I was complaining because the water was too hot. Oh no, the skin was being BURNED off of the top of my foot. oh well, at least it gave me something for show and tell in Health Class on Monday.

Anyway, so the infection is under control, so we go to see Dr. Henry(H....No, I won't do it again, but rest assured, I'm saying it out loud as I'm typing this), and he preps me for surgery. this includes putting a little curtain up across my knee, so that I can't see my foot. this means I can't watch the surgery. I voice my concerns about this, but Dr. Henry stands firm, and tells me that I don't want to see it.

The surgery goes well, and I return home. I am given some painkillers that i am supposed to take every 4 hours. I take one at 10:00 p.m. and go to bed, figuring that I'll sleep through the night and take the next one in the morning.

Oh no. At 2 a.m. sharp, I sit bolt upright in bed, bathed in sweat,with STABBING pains in my toe. I crawl/limp my way down the stairs and take another painkiller. Slowly, the pain subsides, and I fall back to sleep.

The next day, I get to start wearing my new "shoe"... I placed shoe i n quotation marks because it is actually a wooden block with two pieces of canvas stapled to it, that tie in the center. That's a fun one to go to school in as a teenager, I'll tell you what.

Well, that's the tale. I really don't have much to add. I guess it's kind of anti-climactic. I did have the same procedure done on my third toe on my right foot a few months ago, but with that one, the just burned away the root of the nail with some acid thing- I guess if there had been more bleach in the water I soaked my foot in, the first surgery may have been unnecessary.

Here's what my toe looks like now...

It's a god-awful picture of a fugly foot, but if you look at the base of the nail on the right side of my big toe, you can kinda see the scar. Pretty manly and sexy, isn't it ? It kinda reminds you of the scar on Harrison Ford's chin, doesn't it ? Sure it does.


So, there's your story, Feral Mom.

Paticus' Past:Volume 9: Caught Smoking !

I used to be a smoker. I quit my regular habit ten years ago. I have had a few periods where I would take smoke breaks during stressful times at work since, but it's been a few years since those, and now I will have a smoke or two if I am having a few drinks, but otherwise, I pretty much consider myself an ex-smoker. I am not a militant ex smoker, I don't mind if other people smoke, but I am not here to discuss my views on personal freedom and all that.

Nope, I'm here to regale you with the story of how my parents' found out that I smoked. Now, I did not start smoking until I was a senior in high school, and I managed to hide it from them until Graduation Night. I was almost out !!

It starts back a few weeks, at my Senior Prom...Windows on the World...Awwww...Well, they videotaped our Prom, and everyone got a copy. I don't remember when we got it, but a bunch of us went to a friends' house and watched it. Of course, it's a horror show...But the most disturbing thing about it is that of the I would say at least 30 people that were smoking at said Prom, only ONE appears in the video smoking a cigarette...Guess who ?

That's right...Your dear old narrator, Paticus. As my friends' were all saying goodbye to me, as they knew that I would certainly be killed when I arrived home and my parents saw the evidence, someone said something that gave me hope...I'm still not sure who said it, but I know I heard it..."Do your parents have to see the video ?"

Why,no...They don't...They don't even know it exists !! Holy shit, what a break !! All I had to do was hide the video, and they would never find out that I smoked !! EVER !!! It was genius !!!
And it worked...Until...Graduation...Graduation went fine, and I hung out with my friends for a bit before I went home to go out to dinner with my family.

When i got home, my Mom was on the porch. As soon as she saw me coming up the stairs, she said the following words to me..."So, where's the Prom video ?"

"Huh ?" I responded, hoping against hope that a meteor would crash in the front yard, or some other diversion would make the question disappear...Alas, it was not to be, and she simply asked the question again. I knew from watching 5 brothers and sisters get in trouble that lying was not going to help, so I needed to buy some time for that meteor to hit the front yard.

"How do you know there's a prom video ?"

"Mrs. So-and-So(not an alias, by the way, there was a kid named Jasper So-And-So in my class, he was Norwegian, I think) said that you looked cute on it." (On a side note, Mrs. So-And-So is correct, I am absolutely adorable on the video, I wore a top hat and tails, plus I'm high and a little drunk, which is always charming)

"Oh, well you don't want to see that anyway. It's cheaply made. Absolutely no production value. It's really grainy.It's a piece of crap, really."
"I would like to see it."

"Really, Mom, you don't. It's stupid."

" I want to see it." It was time to take a different angle, one that I was pretty sure was just going to back me into a corner, but I was pretty well fucked anyway, so I thought I would throw up the Hail Mary Pass.

"Well, I would rather you didn't see it." I figured, maybe,just MAYBE, she would see it as a free speech issue, and respect my privacy, and let it go.

"Why don't you want me to see it ?" Here's where it got sticky for me. I obviously couldn't give the real reason. I went with the old teenager standby.

"I dunno. Just 'cause I don't." I knew that wouldn't work.

" Why don't you want me to see it ?" It was over. My only chance would have been to punch her and run away. That wasn't gonna happen.

"Because I'm smoking in it, okay ?"

"That's okay. I smoked when I was your age." I knew she had smoked. In fact, she smoked when I was a kid, and I used to beg her to quit. But I still expected her to be mad. That was okay, though, as my Dad was mad enough for both of them.

I went up to my room, and I held out hope that she would not tell my Dad, but as soon as I walked down the stairs, I could see the look in his eye. He was pissed. But worse than that, I knew he was disappointed, and for me, the only thing worse than pissing my Dad off was disappointing him.

He looked at me and said, "You know, that why I can't breathe." Then he walked away. My dad had smoked too, and he also owned and worked in a bar, and he had asthma due to it.
We went to dinner, and everything seemed okay. Then my friends came to pick me up, and I said I was leaving, and my Dad told me to be home by ten. I was about to protest, but I thought better of it and shut up.

We went to a graduation party, but got kicked out because it was "only for close friends". I heard that one of the neighbors called in a noise complaint shortly after that, but I'm sure we knew nothing about that.

Anyway, it was 9:30. and we were gonna go over to another kid's house, so I called my house, and my Dad answered the phone. I told him that my friends were going to this other kids house, and before I could ask for an extension, he said,'Listen, I didn't realize what time it was when you left, you can stay out, I'll see you later." I thanked him and hung up the phone.

I was never comfortable smoking in front of my Dad. I doubt I did it more than a couple of times in the ten years I smoked.

So that's how my folks found out I smoked.

Paticus' Past: Volume 8: You Got Any Gum ?

In a strange bit of serendipity..or is it synchronicity ? I'm not sure, but either way, in a strange bit of one of those things(I think), Paticus' Past:Volume 8 involves events that occurred whilst Paticus was in(gasp!) 8th grade(cue spooky music) !! No ? Too much ? I kinda thought I was forcing the drama there, sorry about that. I will try to do better.



Anyway, it was 8th grade, and I was a dealer...A GUM dealer. You needed some chewing materials, I was your man. JuicyFruit ? I got you. Bazooka ?I got you. Big Red ?Damn right, I got your Big Red for you. I was living the high life, pockets jingling with every step.



How did it start ? You know, I don't even really know. But I have always felt a kinship to Wesley Snipes in New Jack City...You know what I mean ? I ain't saying there's bodies under the swing set, but I ain't saying there ain't bodies under the swing set, either, you dig ?



I know that I always had gum to chew(just ask my dentist), and my guess would be that someone offered me some coin for a piece of gum(perhaps my last piece ?) and instead of refusing, I took the money, and then I saw some potential in the transaction.



It started out slow, I would buy a big pack(usually a Wrigley's Plen T Pack) of gum(usually JuicyFruit, to begin with anyway) and then I would sell the pieces for 5 cents a piece. But as you all know, it did not stay small forever.

My name spread across the schoolyard. I know, I know, you ain't supposed to deal near schools, but that's where I spent most of my time, and plus, these kids knew what they wanted...They wanted GUM.

Soon, Plen T Packs were not cutting it, I needed to start buying the packages with 10 packs of gum for $1.19. the plus side was I could start offering more variety. I could buy a sleeve of JuicyFruit, 1 of Big Red, one of Spearmint and one of Doublemint. I used to open the large package, and empty the contents into a paper bag that I carried in the inside pocket of my jean jacket.

Here's how the prices broke down

1 piece- 5cents.

1 pack- 25 cents.



I made 2 cents on each piece of gum. And 12 cents on the pack. not too bad. But, I wanted more. Isn't that always the way ?



A short time later, I had a revelation at the grocery store. I was grabbing my Wrigley's off of their little hooks, when my eye was drawn to a red, white, and blue box on the shelf. BAZOOKA bubble gum !!! 50 pieces for .99 cents. BUBBLE GUM !!! THAT'S where the real money was...I decided to give something a try...I bought a box...And I decided to go for the big score, the bubble gum would go for 10 cents a piece !!!!!



As I suspected, I had them hooked, and they bought the bubble gum like it was going out of style. There were still some traditionalists, but most people walked right through that gateway to bubble gum.



I know what you're saying.."How did you sleep at night ?" Well, I will tell you this...I slept like a baby. I wasn't forcing anyone to chew this shit. I was simply allowing people to indulge in their desires, that's all. I didn't make anybody do anything.

Business was booming. Then came the competitors...A duo of young upstarts decided that they could take over the middle school sugar trade by selling Jolly Ranchers...Jolly Ranchers ? Huh ? They just didn't get it...A Jolly Rancher is a short burst of flavor compared to the potentially hours of enjoyment that come from a quality piece of chewing gum. Don't even get me started on the joy that a piece of bubble gum can bring. Trying to supplant gum with Jolly Ranchers is like tryin to replace LSD with nutmeg. Fools.

The Jolly Rancher threat quickly subsided. I was on top of the world again. I was raining nickels and dimes all over that town. Buying sodas and pizza slices for my homies. I even bought myself a vinyl copy of "Let's Get Small" by Steve Martin. We laughed and laughed.

Then came the day I dreaded. I got called down to the Vice-Principal's office. He was cordial at first. asked how my family was, how my classes were going. then he got down to business.

"So, I've gotten some interesting news about you," he said.

"Really ?" I replied."Was I in Highlights magazine again ?"

He grinned at me."No, it wasn't in Highlights magazine.It was someone who seems to think you might be doing some business here on the school grounds."

"Me ?" I replied, acting stunned."I have no business. I'm just getting my grades, doing my thing, you dig ?"

"Cut the dumb act, wiseass. I know you are dealing to those kids, and if it's the last thing I do, I will make you pay for it. I can see it on their faces, the sugar rush. I see their rotting teeth. the sore jaws. And I know that you're to blame for it. You and your foul product."

"Hey man, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just going to class, eating lunch, making the occasional fart noise with my armpit. I'm just being a middle schooler."

"You smug son of a bitch. You just don't get it, do you ? you want to see what you're doing ? Take a look at this!" and he reached into his mouth, pulled out his full set of dentures and threw them in my lap. I just stared in horror. "That's right," he said to me, as his lips clung to his now exposed gums, " I started out with a piece of gum here and there, but then I couldn't stop, and now look at me."

Then, I made a mistake...I laughed at him. I think I actually heard his brain snap, and he pulled a gun out of the drawer of his desk...

Okay, that's enough of that....My agent told me I needed to spice up the story, but it just isn't working. i did get called to the Vice Principal's office, and he told me that he knew I was selling gum, and he gave me some speech about how that was illegal ,and how it could get both me and the school in trouble, so I shouldn't do it anymore...So,I stopped selling gum. End of story. Sorry it's not very gangsta, but that's Paticus' Past.

Paticus' Past Volume Seven : " So, A Kid Walks Into A Bar With A Wasp In His Pants"

Have you heard this one before ? No ?

I was walking across campus yesterday when I noticed a bee flying around my foot. I don't mean that the bee was flying in a circle "around" my foot, but it was flying in the vicinity of my foot. Guess what happened ? Yep, I had another flashback. This one to my early childhood...Let's go there, shall we ?

I was probably 4 or 5 maybe, I don't truly remember, but I was a youngin, that's for sure. My Mom and I were going to visit my Dad at work to bring him his lunch. at this time, my Dad was the owner of a bar. He worked during the day. Just about everyday, I think, my Mom would bring him his lunch. They would talk, plan,conspire... I don't know...do whatever parents do.

I would drink a Coke and play pinball(or video games), or talk to my Dad, or talk to some of the guys that would be there. Some came into eat their lunches, others had been there most of the morning, if you know what I mean(and I think that you do). But, they were a relatively cheery bunch of guys, as far as I remember. I mean, there weren't any knife fights or anything, just some older guys who drank and wanted some conversation. Knowing life as I do now, they may have been relatively unhappy guys, but they were always nice to me.

Anyway, this one fine day, we went to take my Dad some lunch. I sat down on the seat, and screamed in pain, and jumped back up. The seat was inspected, but there was no apparent reason for the seat to be causing me ass pain. My parents thought I was just being an idiot(which, in there defense, I often was- still am, really) and they told me to sit down. So, I did.

And I promptly yelled in pain again, and jumped out of the seat. Now, I was also a bit of a hypochondriac, even at that age, and a bit of a wuss. I broke my leg when I was 2, and when they took the cast off, I refused to get off of the table, fearing that I would break my leg again. So, my parents believed that I was simply reacting to the first mystery pain from sitting down, and not actually hurt again, so they told me to sit down again. I did.

And jumped up and screamed in pain again. This time I started crying and grabbing at my butt cheek. My Mom pulled my pants down, and lo and behold, out flew a wasp( For the record, I was not in the habit of storing insects in my oants). And there was Paticus' heiney, with three red sting marks on it.

Needless to say, that wasp did not make it out of that bar. No it did not. There was a bond formed that day between me and the denizens of that tavern. They had seen me wronged, and they were going to avenge me. It took several swats with rolled up newspapers, but those brave men finally meted out some Budweiser justice on that wasp's ass. Justice that was never spoken of again, until this very day. Every time after that fateful afternoon when I would see those gentlemen, there was always an unspoken bond, a bond forged over that wasp carcass in that dusty tavern, on that hot Jersey summer day.

Now, I say it was a wasp, because it is my understanding that wasps can sting more than once. There was no study made of the wasp, that was not possible. The evidence needed to be disposed of quickly. So, it may have been some sort of super bee that was able to sting more than once. We may never know. Just know it got what it deserved.

As you may have guessed, the wasp had flown up my pants leg as we walked from the car. So, now I can never see a low flying stinging insect without thinking of being stung on the ass.

Paticus' Past Volume Six: The Search

That's right, it's time to detail one of my run-ins with the law. There have not been that many, and they have all been rather benign, but this one is kind of a fun story.

Let's see, it's the summer of '88, I believe. We had just graduated from high school, or we were on the verge of graduating from high school, I'm not sure. That summer is kind of a smoky haze, if you catch my drift, heh-heh. (What I meant is we were smoking a lot of pot. Had you gotten that ? I just wanted to be sure, because I realized that you might have thought there may have been problems with wildfires in Northern New Jersey that summer, and I wouldn't want you to think that I would find that funny. Because I wouldn't. I don't think wildfires are funny. Not at all. In fact, that song "Wildfire" by Michael Martin Murphy always makes me cry, though that's about a ghostly horse named Wildfire, not about an actual fire.)

Anyway, summer of '88,lots of pot smoking. Heh-Heh. Let's move on.

I'm pretty sure it was Sunday night, because NOTHING was open. And me and my friends D & J were out cruising around in my '84 Monte Carlo, driving around our little Northern New Jersey town. It was summer,as I had mentioned, so we had the windows open(ahem..importantplotdevice-ahem). We were driving down Knickerbocker Road, and we were approaching the light at Tenafly Road-the light was yellow, but I sped up a little bit so I could make the left turn before the light changed. As that light changed, so did life as we knew it.

Okay, that was a bit over dramatic, sorry about that. What did happen is, as we turned onto Tenafly Road, we noticed a cop car coming towards us. We all looked at each other- had he seen the turn ? If he did, would he really care ? I didn't actually run the red light or anything. We would soon have our answer.

In the back seat, my friend D says(just as the police car passes us) "Oh great, a PIG !!" J and I froze. Remember when I said that the windows were open ?This is where that becomes an important part of the story. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that the police car's windows are ALSO open.

As I glance into the rear view mirror, I am thinking,"Surely what D said sounded louder in the car. I'm sure they didn't..." before I can finish my thought, I see the police car hit the intersection and hang a u-turn.

I'm sure that my inner dialogist tried to tell me that it was simply a coincidence, but then the lights and siren came on. I had just turned another corner at a gas station, so I pulled over, still holding to the slim hope that they had gotten a call on the radio, and they would fly on past me.
Nope, they stopped behind me. Oh boy.

" Could I see your license and registration, please son."

"Yes sir." I gave him my license and registration.

"Would you all step out of the car, please ?"

We all get out of the car. by the time we get out of the car, there are 3 more cop cars parked and about 6 more cops standing around.

"Is this your car ?" he asks me.

"yes sir. It's my parents car."

"Is there anything illegal in the car ?"

"No sir, there isn't."

"Do you mind if we take a look ?

"No sir, I don't." At this time, I am very glad that we were in the middle of about a week long "dry spell" so none of us had anything on us. And since my parents did drive the car as well, I never left anything in it. So I was pretty sure we were in the clear on that front. Of course, that did not stop my fertile imagination from seeing the guy finding a stem or a seed or something.

The other cops lined us up and took my friends licenses as well. I don't think they ever searched us.

I made the mistake of putting my hands in my pockets, and I got yelled at for that. then one of the cops walked over to me.

" I know you. You're Nick's kid." This was the moment I dreaded. The recognition. My Dad had been a cop. And was still friendly with all the cops in our town." Do you think he'd appreciate a call right now ?"

"No sir, I doubt that he would." He grinned at me. I turned my attention to the cops going through my car. I don't remember if one of us asked, but it came time for them to tell us why they were searching the car. It turned out they were searching for weapons.

Weapons. okay. It seems that they heard my friend yell "something" and then "go for his feet", so they were not sure what we might have had on the floor. They let us get back in the car, and the first cop gave me back my license and registration and said: "Pay attention to lights."

And that was that.

Now, I cannot know if they felt a real threat from us or not. Perhaps they did. But I always kind of figured that they heard a little shit yell "pig" out the window and decided to fuck with us a little bit.

Quite frankly, I didn't really care. At the time, I was just happy they didn't call my Dad.

Paticus' Past: Volume 5: 'She'll be back knocking down Captain Keller's fences in no time"

I thought I would tell you about my acting debut...Now, I'm not talking about playing the tree in the nature play in 1st grade, or even when I played Prince Charming's coachman in the Ralph S. Maugham School production of Cinderella...I don't know what you might call those "performances"...You certainly wouldn't call them acting, that's for sure...Well, I guess Hillary Swank might call them acting, but I certainly wouldn't...No, I am talking about my TRUE acting debut, and excepting a one-off appearance as Santa Claus in a Senior Class Christmas Pageant skit I co-wrote called "What's So Funny 'Bout Peace Love and Understanding", also my retirement from the stage.

The year was 1987, and it was announced that the Fall Drama production would be "The Miracle Worker". Me and my best pal JZ decided that,as seniors, we should try out for the play. I believe my choice of reading was the "John Bender/Principal Vernon Confrontation" from "The Breakfast Club", and if I do say so myself, I was stunning. I really nailed the "Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns" line, and I firmly believe that my grasp of that authority is the reason that I scored the role of "The Doctor". JZ scored a role too, but for the life of me, I cannot remember what role he played. Oh well, this is all about me anyway.

That's right, boys and girls. I played the doctor who told Helen Keller's parents that she would be just fine. It's a small but pivotal role,it really makes or breaks the whole play, if you ask me.

Things were going relatively well...I had an easier time remembering my lines than I had feared, but I apparently did have one acting quirk. Here is how I found out about it...

Director: Okay, that was good. Paticus, can I talk to you.
Paticus: Sure thing.
Director: are your glasses too loose ?
Paticus: No, I don't think so. They're brand new in fact.Why do you ask ?
Director: Because you are almost constantly adjusting them.
Paticus: really ?
Director: Yes. And honestly, it's quite distracting.
Paticus: Oh. okay. I'll work on that.
Director: Please do.

In retrospect, I should have claimed that it was part of my "method", that in order to play the bumbling, inept Doctor, I thought he needed a physical quirk. Alas, I did not think that quickly.

Here's the other thing...have you ever had someone point out something like that to you ? It became almost IMPOSSIBLE for me to not do it. I also discovered that it was (and probably still is) something I do when I am nervous. I adjust my glasses. Quite macho and studly of me, no ?But have you ever tried to STOP doing something you were previously unaware you did ? It becomes hard to think about anything else. And as I said, I discovered that it was something I did all the time.

Here's where I would love to say that I, in the spirit of Helen Keller, defeated my own physical quirk, but...alas and alack, I did not. I kept doing it. Finally, the Director had a brainstorm.

Director:Paticus, what would you do if you only had one arm ?
Paticus: eat with the other one, I suppose ?
Director: Well, from now on, the Doctor only has one arm.
Paticus: Okay.

It was genius. And it worked. Mostly. My last performance, I did attempt to adjust my glasses(which I was not even wearing), but I played it off rather well with a thoughtful head scratch, certainly something in character for a country doctor. I also blame that little miscue on the fact that my head was covered in white shoe polish(for nurses shoes) in order to make me look age appropriate for the Doctor. we had already went through the supply of regular white hair dye the first two nights, so we had to improvise, and the white shoe polish was all we could find. The fumes were a bit much, to Say the least, but the show must go on, and all that.

My first night, however, did not go so well. All through the rehearsals, we were told the same thing..."If you miss a line, keep going. Do NOT go back and say the line." Over and over we were told this.Over and over.

Can you guess what Paticus did on opening night ? That's right, I got a massive erection just as the curtain was raised...No, I'm kidding...I, of course, muffed a line...Okay, that's not the end of the world, just keep going...right ? Don't go back, just skip the line...Keep going...No...I stopped talking...backtracked, retrieved the line, and said it. Nice.

Of course, this was the night that all of my family and friends were there. Most of them were very nice, didn't say anything. Of course, my friend Jeff said 'You fucked up" as soon as he saw me afterwards. You can always count on your friends to keep you humble.

the rest of the cast was very nice about it, but that was mostly because in the scheme of things, my faux pas was not that bad, and it was actually eclipsed by someone else in the cast.

As I came offstage, the Director smiled and patted me on the back. I was only in the opening scene, so I had the next three hours to sulk backstage and be overly dramatic about my mistake. Then something happened.

I will stop short of saying that something wonderful happened, because even though it worked out well for me, I am not happy that it happened, and I would not have wished it to happen either. Having said that, it did wipe my little gaffe right out of the public consciousness.

Let me set the stage(pun fully intended)- there is a scene in the play where Annie Sullivan is interacting with the kids at the school where she teaches. the kids are imploring her about something, and they all have lines that sort of play off of what one another is saying. This particular night, in this particular scene, one of the girls started giggling. And never stopped giggling through the whole scene. Did not deliver ONE of her lines. So the other kids were essentially throwing out semi-non-sequiturs. Not good. Not good at all. I felt bad for her, but sorta good for me.

Man was everyone mad at her. And my little mistake was mostly forgotten...By everyone but me, of course. It has haunted me every day since. I often wake up screaming..."Don't go back !! Just keep going!! Don't go back !!" I tell My Special Lady that I was having a nightmare about my time in the Boy Scouts.

So there you have it. My acting debut as a one-armed incompetent country Doctor.

Paticus' Past: Volume 4: It's In the Net !!

First, a word of warning...This could probably be considered a sports post...But WAIT !!! It is so much more, it's about crushing the spirit of an 8th grader...About defeat...But no real redemption...Doesn't that sound enticing ? I knew that it would....Here we go....

To most of you, especially those of you that have ever actually SEEN me, you might not believe that I once excelled in a sport. True, it was for a short time, only a single season, a few months really, but again, if you have ever seen the physical...um...specimen that is Paticus, even that is a little hard to believe. But it is true.

I was an AMAZING street hockey goalie. Fucking AMAZING, if I may be allowed to toot my own horn a little bit.

I was 13, I think. It was 7th or 8th grade. I'm never good with lining up ages to grades in school, perhaps that's because I didn't graduate high school until I was 26, but that's a tale for another time. This story is about my time at the top of the street hockey goal tending heap. A time, that you will soon learn, was far too brief, and which came to a devastating end.

Now, I won't lie, the main reason I even got to play goalie was because I owned a net and convinced my Dad to buy me some street hockey goalie gear( pads,goalie stick,glove and blocker, mask). Even I didn't know how great I would be(nor how humble).

Now, just in case you are wondering, I was not nearly as FAT then either, so it was not simply a case of me eclipsing the net with my gigantic ass. I actually had SKILLZ, though we were not regularly spelling words with a "z" instead of an "s" for effect yet.

It was a street game, so the official records are spotty, at best. But believe me, I was pretty lights out there for awhile. I was(and still am) a New York Rangers fan, so I of course imagined I was John Davidson there in goal. I remember very little getting past me. They used to call me "The Irish Wall"...Okay, that part's not true, but I sometimes imagined that they would call me that, and man, it was an apt nickname, because nothing got past me.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and my amazing run as a lights out street hockey goalie came to a devastating end.

But first, a little background.

We played most days after school when we could get enough guys, I would guess probably twice a week, maybe three times. we played in the parking lot of the Presbyterian Church that was across the street from my house. We were quite the crew: There was Mikey and Tommy, Joey Two Times(we called him that because his Mom was married two times), and Phil and Mick the Irish Guys, and Vinnie the Italian, and Karl the Commie, and That Jewish Kid, and Davey the Methodist,and Vladimir the Vague Eastern European Stereotype...Okay, there were none of those people, that was an excerpt of some of the dialogue from my(still unproduced) one man show-"My Ethnic Neighborhood"- I thought it might add some flavor to the story. No ? Okay, let's move on...

I have put it off long enough...It's time to tell you about...The Goal... Let's say it was the Championship Game...We didn't technically have one, but I do think it was the last game of the year...It was pretty cold, and it was dark early, and it was a great game. The score was 2-2, and we had been playing for awhile...An "epic battle" if you will. We decided that we were in overtime, and that the next goal would win it.

My team was pretty well controlling the action, so everything was going on at the other end of the "ice". I was cheering them on, feeling really good about our chances...And then it happened...One of the players on the other team got control of the ball, and fired a shot down the "ice". No problem, he was just clearing it. I would grab it and send it back to my team. Except...

I couldn't see it. He shot it high into the air, so it passed right in front of one of the lights, and I lost it in the light. I looked for it, but I couldn't find it. I waited to hear it hit the ground. Then I heard it hit the ground, next to me....The sickeningly dull thud of cheap plastic on cheap blacktop...Sweet Jesus, it had travelled the length of the "ice" on the fly. I dove towards the sound, glove outstretched, but it was too late, I saw the ball hit the back of the net. It was over. We had lost.

I couldn't move. I couldn't believe it. It was over. How had that happened ?

I was never the same in goal again. My confidence was shot. I played for another year or two, but my heart wasn't in it...I started drinking heavily, and spending time with loose women, and my playing suffered...I was average at best,and that's probably a kind estimate. Stupid ball. Stupid lights. Stupid hockey.

Paticus' Past: Volume 3: The Armed Robbery...

Good times...Good times...

I realize that many of you are probably thinking that this is going to be some high octane tale of my involvement in a Michael Mann's "Heat" style armed robbery of a bank or museum or pet store or something...No ? None of you were thinking that ? You all thought that it was about Paticus himself being the robbee ? Damn, am I THAT boring ? Shit, man, none of you could have even feigned a belief that i was a badass robber ? Stop laughing...I mean it, stop laughing, or I will turn this blog around, so help me...You think i won't do it ?

Okay, that's better. Now I can get on with the story.

Well, as you all seem to have already guessed, I was not the robber, I was the robbee. Well, I was sort of the robbee surrogate, the guy was not taking MY money, but he was using me to take my employer's money.

Let me provide you with some background. I had been working in an office, but that turned kinda ugly(loooooong story- for another post...or two...or five) and after I finally extricated myself from there, I decided that I would take a job at The Wherehouse, a music/video store. This was in Los Angeles, by the way. I was working at a store that was about three blocks from my house. I got promoted and transferred to a store that was in the neighboring city of Santa Monica.
The day after my last day at the L.A. store, they got robbed. I felt like I had dodged a bullet(no pun intended-or was there?). I should have guessed that i would not be so lucky.

It was a couple of weeks later, and it was a normal day. A gentleman dressed in a red suit with a tan driving cap on, asks me to check on something for him. I tell him sure, and then I walk up the little ramp to the cashier/computer counter...As I am walking across to the computer, I hear the footsteps behind me...I now know what's going to happen...

I turn around, and he has his coat open, and is showing me his gun. I will be honest, I do not remember all the dialogue. I know there was some variation on him telling me to be cool, and all that. he asked how many people were working, and I told him that is was me and two others, the girl at the front of the store, and the girl in the back room. He crossed over to me and put the gun in my ribs, and then in my back as he got behind me. then he told me that we were going to go get the other two employees.

We emptied the register at the front of the store, and then that employee came with us, walking in front of me. I still had the gun in my back. We went to the back room and invited the other employee on our stroll.

A little aside here. In recounting this story, I have had my courage called into question. Mostly because this guy robbed a few more Wherehouses, and then moved onto Tower Records. At one of the Tower Records(so the story goes), he ran into a Vietnam Vet who knocked his ass out, and tied him up with duct tape. When I told someone this, they said,"Wow, did you ever think of knocking him out ?" to which I replied, "Not really." To which he replied"Yeah, I guess that would take someone brave." I just kinda smiled at him. I guess he's right. That would require someone brave, and I guess that someone was not me. But, what I will say in my cowardly defense, is that he had robbed other stores, and it seemed like if we let him take the cash from the store, he would leave. that seemed like the best plan to me. Beyond that, I would rather live the rest of my life as a coward than to have died ten years ago protecting a corporation's money.

Now, back to the robbery memory already in progress.

It was now time to empty the safe. Now, I was always the kid in high school who could never get his locker open. These damn safes were the same way. Add to that the fact that I had only been there a few days, and I felt like I was the new guy on the bomb squad, and I had the hiccups.

We all went to the safe,and I told him that the combination to the safe was in my wallet, and I didn't know it. He told me to take out my wallet slowly, which I did, and then I put the combination into the safe. For some reason, it worked on the first try, and I gave him the loot. Then, he reminded me to put my wallet back in my pocket. That was odd.

I figured we were just about done, and then he uttered the words that(pardon the cliche) made my blood run cold. I never really grasped the full meaning of that phrase until that moment, because, man, it happened. This is one if the things I remember exactly.

Snazzy Dressed Robber: Now, we're gonna go get the security tape.

Overweight, Sweaty Hairy Hippie Assistant Manager: We don't have a security tape.

This was the absolute truth. the store had cameras in the ceiling, but they didn't work. I had no idea how he was going to take this. It was the first time his demeanor changed.

Snazzy Dressed Robber: Don't FUCK with me.

For a moment, I thought we were going to die. I turned slightly to him.

Overweight,Sweaty, Hairy Hippie Assistant Manager: Dude, I SWEAR to you. The cameras aren't hooked up to ANYTHING. We can go back and I'll show you.

I don't know whether he saw the abject fear in my face or what, but he believed me. He walked us into the back of the store, and he had us sit on the floor in the back room. He took the phone from back there, and he told us to stay there for a half hour. Then he left.

About ten minutes later, the UPS guy came back, and he asked if anyone was working. I asked if there was a guy out there in a red suit, and he said, "No, why ?" And I answered,"Because he just robbed us."

Did I mention that there were people shopping while this was going on ? I went out to the floor, and went behind the counter to call the police. A woman walks up to the counter with a CD in her hand.
"Yeah, I want to buy this." she says.
"Not right now, we just got robbed." I said.
"You did not."
"We fucking did too."
"Well, I want to pay with a credit card anyway."
"Get out." I said. Then we got all the folks out of the store, and waited for the police.

I took a few days off, then went back to work. I lasted 3 days, I think, and then I quit. I decided to go back to office work.

As I mentioned, the guy got caught. I(among many others) testified against him, and he got convicted on all sorts of charges for each of the robberies, Kidnapping(walking us around the store), false imprisonment(putting us in the back room), and some others that I don't recall. He went to jail for a loong time.

I also found out that he used a BB gun, so I guess that's another one in the coward column.


Well, there it is: The Tale Of the (sort of) Armed Robbery.

Post # 500: AKA- Paticus' Past Volume 2: The Car Fire...

That's right- This is the 500th post here at old Sandwich Flats. I kind of went back and forth over what this post should consist of, and I think that I am going to write a regular post, the second volume of the "Paticus' Past" series, which has been receiving rave reviews from all over the globe(it's apparently huuuuge in Belgium). So here we go, and get ready for 500 more...

Paticus' Past Volume 2: The Car Fire.(With Pictures !!)

The car fire...That's a fun story. It was 1994. My Special Lady had been accepted to the Graduate Program in History at a prestigious California University in Los Angeles. We talked about what we were going to do, and though I was heartbroken to leave my burgeoning career as a Fuel Allotment engineer at the Texaco station, I knew that love would see me through the pain, and I decided that we would both move to Los Angeles. She to pursue a History degree, and I to become a famous Hollywood screenwriter.

We decided that we would need a car to live in Los Angeles. Fortunately, I owned a car, a blue 1984 Chevy Monte Carlo. It had started out as my parent's car(they had bought it when I was a senior in high school after I had totalled their '77 Impala- another fun story, but one for another time), but when I went off to college, my Dad had parked it in the garage. When I returned from college, he told me I could have it, so I registered it and insured it, and got it running. The first two were easy, the last one, not so much. It took my dear friend P. the mechanic at the Texaco where I was the Fuel Allotment Engineer many hours to get old Betsy running. He really did a magnificent job, but there was this long process to getting it started: I had to start it, then let it idle on high for a two minutes, then hit the gas once, then let it idle in the middle range for a few minutes, then hit the gas again, and then I was good to go.

This system worked for a few months. Then, I had an interesting ride home one night. I was driving home from work, and I had to stop at a red light. I pushed on the brake, but the car did not seem to want to stop. I pushed a bit harder, and it stopped. I didn't really think much of it...But then it happened at the next red light as well. And I noticed that the car seemed to start to move as soon as I took my foot off of the brake.

After I turned onto my street( a flat road), I stopped the car, and then took my foot off of the gas. The car started to roll on it's own. Then, it started to accelerate... I watched the speedometer, and it was at 30 mph after about 100 feet ! I backed up, pulled the car into my parent;'s driveway and parked it. It was clearly no longer a safe car for the road. I think I heard her sigh when I turned her off.(Boy, how many women have I had to say THAT about ? Am I right people, huh ? High five !! High five !)

So, as you might guess, it did not seem to be the best idea to try and drive Betsy across country. I decided that an upgrade was definitely necessary. This is how I met Althea. Althea was a 1988 Chrysler LeBaron GT Turbo Coupe. Thankfully, Althea is only a peripheral character in this tale. Althea's own tale is one for another time, another post.
This post is about Betsy. Now, in order to purchase Althea, I had to trade Betsy in. The day I first saw Althea, it was raining, and for obvious reasons, I had not driven Betsy to the car lot, so I agreed to test drive the LeBaron the next day,and bring Betsy in so they could assess her for a trade. I was not expecting to get much, I would just be happy to not have to deal with having to dispose of the car, quite frankly.

The next day, I brought her in, warned them about her "problem", and tested the LeBaron. I loved it, and decided to buy it. The salesman came to me about the trade in, and was sorry, but he could only give me $750.00 for it. I almost kissed him. That was $749.00 more than it was worth!! The cigarette lighter DID still work.

They had to fix the radio on the LeBaron and wash it and all, so they said they would call me in a few days. I went home, parked Betsy in the driveway, and took my parents' car to work.

About an hour and a half later, my Dad stopped in to get some fuel, and I engineered his fuel allotment. I told him about the $750.00 for the car before he could say anything. This is how he responded to my good news.

"Didn't you hear the fire whistle ?"

"No." I answered, wondering what this could possibly have to do with my financial good fortune.

"Oh. The car caught fire in the driveway. It's gone."

"What ?"

"Your car caught fire and burned in the driveway."

"Oh. is everyone okay ? The house ?"

"Oh yeah. It buckled the siding on the neighbor's house, but otherwise it was just the car. The cops are going to come by at lunch. They want to talk to you about it. I guess it went up so fast, they think it's a suspicious fire."
"Oh, okay." Then he left. I worked for another hour or so, and then drove home for lunch. This is what I found in the driveway.













Under The Hood












That's the air filter sitting on the front seat. They threw it through the windshield whilst they were putting out the fire.










The last one is a picture of the back seat, and that is a burned plush Ren Hoek that hung in the window by suction cups. Poor little guy. I still have him in a box. Chad, the Patron Saint of Action and Adventure(a G.I Joe type action figure that sat on the dashboard in a skiing outfit) also perished in the fire, though I heard tales that he was heroically trying to rescue the Snapple bottle.


So, quite a sight, huh ? The cop came by my parents house, and he questioned me about the fire. Luckily, I did not have fire insurance on the car, or I certainly would have gone to jail. As soon as I told him that I did not have fire insurance in it, and that in fact I had just traded it in for 750 dollars, he quickly determined that it was not arson, and he went on his way.

It's really quite funny now, and in fact, I don't really remember taking it all that badly at the time. I was just really glad it didn't burn either my parents' or the neighbor's house, and I'm certainly glad that nobody was in it.(though apparently, the fireman thought for a short time that someone was inside, I don't know whether that was due to a miscommunication on the 911 call, or if they in fact saw Chad moving around inside sacrificing himself to try and save the Snapple bottle(the cap was a coupon for a free Snapple). I guess we'll never know.


I miss Chad. I miss Betsy, too. Though I couldn't help thinking that she was like Christine, the car from the Stephen King book, and she was so upset at the prospect of living without her Paticus that she killed herself rather than let someone else drive her. And the more I thought about it, My Special Lady did seem to get stuck by seat springs sometimes, and her seat belt would sometimes stick too tight. Was Betsy just madly in love with me ? It's certainly possible, I am a charming and magnetic personality. But that's all rubber stuck to the driveway now.


So, there you have it...The story of the car fire. It did open up possibilities for future posts- Althea's tale, my solo drive across this great nation of ours, the other time that a cop showed up at my door to ask about my involvement in a crime. So many stories...I think I might have another 500 posts in me. You game ?

Paticus' Past: Volume 1:Dumped In the Public Library Parking Lot....

Okay, since only Feral Mom expressed an actual preference, I will start the Paticus' Past series with "Dumped In The Public Library Parking Lot".

The year was 1992,I think,( you would think that the year would really stick with me, but it could have been 1993, blame all those chemicals I "accidentally" ingested for 5 or ten years of my life- I do know it was after we graduated from college.) and it was autumn, bordering on winter. I remember that, because I remember the walk home being cold.

If it was 1992, I was partially employed. I had actually returned to the job I had all through high school(talk about growth), and I was the night/weekend custodian at the church across the street from my house(I have some stories from that job, but I will save those for the Employment Chronicles-coming soon to a blog near you). If it was 1993, then I was employed as a Fuel Allotment Engineer at the Texaco on Piermont Road.

Anyway, we had both graduated from college and returned to our respective parents' houses in our small New Jersey town. My Special Lady was working in a law firm and talking about going to law school. I was trying to figure out how to become the next George Lucas(the fact that I lacked any discernible filmmaking talent didn't strike me as a deterrent).

Being my oblivious self, I thought we were doing great. I quite obviously was wrong, as I was soon to find out. The more I think about this, the more I think it was 1992, because I worked until 7 most nights at the Texaco, and I don't recall the conversation happening that late at night.

I get a call from My Special lady and she says she needs to talk to me, can she come pick me up ? I say sure. I am not sure if I had any inkling of what was to come at this point or not. I might have, because she very rarely borrowed the car from her folks, but I also might have been blissfully unaware of that foreshadowing.

She picks me up, and I ask where we're going, and she says how about the parking lot of the Library. Now, I know I would have thought this was odd. It was not a secluded lot, so there was not to be any hanky panky, so why else would we be going to the Library ?

We drove along quietly for the 3 minutes or so it took to get there, and then she parks the car and turns to me. Now, I definitely don't remember the specifics of the conversation. I know it didn't turn into a fight. There wasn't any name calling or any of that. It was basically, "I don't think I love you anymore. I think we should go our separate ways." I don't know whether I pleaded my case or not. I kinda doubt that I did. My self-esteem issues probably had me agreeing with her. I do know that we both cried a bit about it.

I don't recall whether we officially exchanged the "let's be friends" line or not, to tell you truth. We knew a lot of the same folks, so I like to think that we would have at least tried to be friends, but you never know.

When it was said and done, I gave her a hug(we may have kissed) and decided that I would walk home. On the walk home, the strangest thing happened to me. I realized that I actually just wanted her to be happy. I know that sounds all Drew Barrymore movie-ish, but it was how I felt. Believe you me, I was as shocked as anyone. I am a relatively petty motherfucker, and I would have expected that walk home to be filled with all sorts of "She'll be sorrys" and all that crap, but it wasn't. I simply realized that I did love her, and I wanted her to be happy. If that meant that she needed to be happy without me, then so be it. It was a weird feeling. I had never really thought about how much I loved her before, but I guess I loved her pretty deeply. And I still do.

Shortly after I got home, the phone rang. It was My Special Lady..."I think I made a mistake."
So that was it. Our breakup lasted about half an hour.But for me, it was a very revealing half an hour.

And there you have it, "Dumped In The Public Library Parking Lot". I hope you enjoyed it.

Let's All Take a Big Swim In Lake Paticus...

Didja bring yer swimmin' trunks ? I sure hope that you did.

You know, I am constantly thinking about ways to make old Sandwich Flats even MORE fascinating than it already is...And I always come to the same conclusion...But since I don't have the money to hire someone with actual writing talent to write this blog, I must move on to secondary solutions...And one is for me to share more of myself with you...I just realized that the previous statement could be construed as some sort of prelude to some form of artistic nudity by old Paticus-Fear not, that is certainly not the case, and those of you that know me(and have seen me) will certainly want to bow down and thank whatever deity it is that you believe in for that fact.

No, my friends, I am talking about sharing some of my stories, the tales from my life.

But what tales to tell ? What do you want to hear about ? I'm gonna try something, and it may backfire on me, as it could simply reveal how few people actually stop by and read this old blog, but I think I'll throw out a few choices, and you let me know what you'd like to hear.

1. The robbery.
2. The car fire
3. The time I saved Nelson Rockefeller's life(WARNING: NOT a true story)
4. My acting debut(and curtain call)-High school play.
5. The night My Special Lady Dumped Me.

So there are your choices. Speak, people, speak !!!