Monthly Archives: October 2010

He landed in Miami at 3:10am and immediately hopped on a puddle jumper for a very short flight to Key West. Lyndon was anxious to meet up with a guy named Jorge, his connection for the buyer of the stones. He thought a quick check-in and shower at his hotel was in order before striking out for the sunrise rendezvous. Lyndon looked down at the three drops of Axel’s blood on the right sleeve of his Armani jacket. It sickened him, he fought the urge to vomit. He thought it a strange dichotomy that he could basically perform an autopsy on someone, but the mere sight of blood or brain matter on his own person repulsed him so. Lyndon cursed himself for forgetting the rain slicker in his room at the W Hotel in Dallas. That damn disco music they piped in that place had thrown him off of his game. Didn’t they know that disco sucks?

Lyndon had been instructed to look for a black Jeep Wrangler in the parking lot of a butterfly conservatory, of all places, on Duval Street. His cab pulled to the side of the road about four blocks from the conservatory. “Are you sure you want to be left here buddy?” the cab driver asked. Yes, he replied, as he got out to walk the last length of distance. Lyndon was attacking the four blocks with delight, his Camper walking shoes were very comfortable and the color matched the leather band of his Cartier watch. Not many people would notice that, so few people had an eye for detail like him. In the distance he could see the black Jeep with a 20-something Hispanic male exiting the driver side.

Jorge patted Lyndon down for a quick weapons check. “Boss wants me to see the goods before you get in the Jeep.” Lyndon unzipped his fly exposing Calvin Klein boxer shorts with a wide-top elastic band. Through a small slit in the fabric, he grabbed a small piece of plastic and pulled quickly. The diamonds presented themselves in one long stream of clear plastic…he had hated ruining a perfectly nice set of boxers, but it had worked well going through airport security. Jorge grabbed a small, handheld radio from the seat of the Jeep and said something in Spanish. Lyndon spoke fluent French but had never bothered learning Spanish. He was thinking that would need to change if he stayed around the Keys long….or ever thought of taking a trip to the country closer to Key West than mainland America.

Jorge motioned for Lyndon to get in and the two men took off down Duval Street for what turned out to be all of a four-minute ride. “Why in the hell didn’t you just tell me to meet you here?” asked Lyndon, as the Jeep pulled up to the front door to the Waldorf Astoria Casa Marina Resort on Reynolds Street. He wasn’t so mad at the fact that he was given the run around, but at the fact that now he was not dressed appropriately for the Waldorf….he immediately started to feel uncomfortable. “Get out pretty boy….tell the front desk you are there to see Mr. Trujillo…the clerk will ask you for a password. You respond, papillion.” Lyndon exited the Jeep..this wasn’t going well….under-dressed and getting out of a piece of shit vehicle…he knew he should walk away, but the lure of the cash pulled him into the lobby of the five-star resort. No one here knows me, relax, no one here knows me.

Papillion, what the hell kind of game was Trujillo playing? The meet-cute at the butterfly conservatory, now the Spanish word for butterfly was his secret spy name for the Waldorf pukes working the front desk? Trujillo must have been watching too many late night movies,…why do rich guys have to always be so stupid? Lyndon was frisked for weapons again at the door to the suite and then led in to see his buyer.

Trujillo spoke, sounding like a bad imitation of Al Pacino in Scarface, he was a fan of movies thought Lyndon. “So Mr. Baines, give the stones to Mr. Kepler here.” Kepler, with a jeweler’s loupe on his left eye, squeezed the diamonds out of the length of plastic onto a felt square on the coffee table in front of him. He carefully inspected each stone, a result of his taking pride in his craft, or maybe the threat of the .45 pointed at his right temple by one of Trujillo’s goons. Kepler, the poor guy, was not a voluntary participant for this exchange.

Trujillo barked, “well, well….tell me you idiot, are they as pristine as promised??” Kepler, with shaking voice, responded affirmatively…they were the highest quality he had ever seen, perfection. “Please Mr. Trujillo, let me leave now and return to my wife…I won’t say a word about what has happened today.” The goon reached down and grabbed Kepler by the collar and led him out of the suite. Lyndon knew that poor slob was never making it home for dinner, his purpose in life was now complete. He didn’t fear death standing in front of Trujillo though…and was 100% sure he was going to walk out with 1.5 million in cash. Trujillo had sweetened the plot with a request of Lyndon to terminate one of his business competitors…Lyndon was happy to oblige the man. To him it was as if Trujillo had given him a bonus, a cherry on top of his biggest pay-day in life.

Getting into the cab at the Waldorf, tan duffel bag beside him, Lyndon was filled with hubris at a level that was even extraordinary for him. On the ride back to his hotel his mind wandered, his insatiable appetite was growing inside of him. His heart began to race as he plotted out the kill of someone named Randy Caufield. Somewhere on Key West…good old boy Randy was living it up. Probably throwing back shots of tequila while enjoying a lap dance…totally unaware that this was his last day on earth. That power, Lyndon’s solitary knowledge of the event that was going to take place that very night, was a better high than ecstasy or meth.

Now, with the nest egg that he had long wanted, he was free to explore the dark recesses of his mind and develop long seated fantasies. I am beautiful and I am rich he thought…nothing or no one can stop me now. The valet opened the door of the cab, “welcome back to The Gardens Mr. Delano.”

Franklin, about 4 hours later, was waking up from a nap in his hotel room. He sat up and turned on the television after calling down for room service. The local NBC affiliate was broadcasting a “breaking news” event. It seems that a well known jeweler had been the victim of a home invasion on the island. His wife had told the police that two men had kicked in their bedroom door and had drug her husband out of bed at about 2am that morning. The story was not about a home invasion/kidnapping however, it was about the jeweler’s murder. Kepler had been found in a field out by the Key West International Airport. Oddly, he was dead, but didn’t have a mark on him. The medical examiner would release the cause of death several days later. Kepler had died of asphyxia….a jeweler’s loupe was found in his throat, blocking his trachea.

I bet he didn’t see that coming, thought Franklin.

The Fort Worth city councilman, Joel Burns, did a very courageous thing this week. He spoke from the heart about growing up a gay teenager in Crowley, Texas. Joel described his own experience with bullying and how it almost ended him one day. Joel is the first openly gay Fort Worth councilman in history. I am a Fort Worth citizen and Joel happens to live across the street from me. I am honored to know him and am proud that my hometown, good old Cowtown, has him in service.

Joel Burns reached out to gay teens in the community in hopes of preventing another gay kid from committing suicide. As a nation we are seeing an increase in these cases at a time when it seems that people are more progressive on the social issues. Why is that, I thought? You will have your own opinion…but I think mine is a pretty logical conclusion. I think sexuality is a sliding scale….100% queer on one end and 100% straight on the other…..most of the population is somewhere in between. Those underlying feelings….they scare people….when they see gay kids they strike out. The hate and the violence is a product of the deep seated knowledge that the gay kid is not that different than the bully.

I posted this week on Facebook that I was taunted in junior high…people were surprised. Why?? I was a teen in the 70s….magnify the homophobia you see now by about 400% and you have life in 1976. I never got to use the water fountain in 7th grade. Every time I bent down to take a drink a kid would walk by and hit the back of my head..forcing it down into the drain. “Dyke!” the kid would yell and everyone around would laugh. And I have blogged before that when I would enter the girl’s bathroom…someone would quite often be there to yell, “hey, a guy is going into the girl’s restroom!!” Compared to the recent news stories, my examples are not that bad….I just remark about them here to make another point. Show me a queer and I am willing to bet they have some bullying stories to tell. Kids jump on anyone that is different, queer kids are an easy target.

I have also blogged before that I would like to start a mentoring program…similar to a big brother/big sister program, but for gay kids. Have the teachers watch out for kids that might be in trouble or have a hotline for kids to call. (Joel offered his private number)
The young person would be matched up to a local gay professional to show them that IT GETS BETTER!! I think a program like this should be in every high school in America. It is time to draw the line and to say ENOUGH is ENOUGH! One life is too much to lose…let alone the numbers we are seeing on the nightly news. I am going to reach out to Joel Burns and volunteer to assist him in starting a program like this here in Cowtown. Maybe we can be the model for the nation to follow.

There was a dark day or two in my early life. When you are a kid and you look in the mirror…there is that day when you come out to yourself. You look in the mirror and see a queer. At that moment you realize it is a part of every fiber in your body, something innate….something that is not going to change. You realize your road is not going to be smooth…you will have challenges and you will receive ridicule. Your life, whatever you choose to do, will be deemed “alternative.” I look at my home and family and I don’t ever think “alternative”….I see love and normalcy. But at that moment when you are 10, 11, 12, 13…..and see yourself truly for the first time….it is scary. These kids that are killing themselves have this realization and don’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. Our job is to show them the light….show them that it gets better!

The readers of the blog know that I had a supportive mother. As I was listening to Joel speak this week, I wondered what I would have done if my mother had looked at me in shame or disowned me. I might very well have killed myself. Like Joel said,….he would have missed so much….and so would have I. We have to throw out life-vests to these kids……grab the rope! We have to throw love at these kids and acceptance…..we have to throw out HOPE. Hold tight my young friend….I have walked a mile in your shoes and have turned out fine. Grab hold of life and all that it offers…..WE VALUE YOU AND YOUR LIFE……IT GETS BETTER!!

“Remember Juju, don’t take any apples! The man on channel 8 said they are putting razor blades in them to kill kids!!” Juju knew her mother hadn’t seen that on the news, but she responded that she would be careful and off she went. Having already checked herself out in the mirror, Juju was quite proud of the “look” she had accomplished without spending very much money at all. The hat was perfect, the leather vest with the fringes absolutely worked…the only problem was the fake mustache…it was going to be a problem keeping it in place. Charlie, a kid in the neighborhood pointed at Juju and laughed….”you are not supposed to dress up as a man!! You are a girl and should be Bat Girl or a princess Juju!! There were always going to be critics, Juju thought to herself. Her spurs jingled and jangled as she walked up Oak Street to fill her grocery sack. Juju was determined to be the best “Frito Bandito” anyone had ever seen!

Juju had joined the Frito Bandito Fan Club because she loved Fritos corn chips, but she also loved the character. In her desk at school was the official club badge and a blue Bandito eraser that was highly regarded by her peers. Juju had also won the Harrison Lane Elementary poster contest for third grade that year with an excellent Frito Bandito “WANTED” poster. Her sister Junene had supervised as she took care to burn the corners and give the poster that “old west” look that surely had put her over the top!

Juju pulled out her six-shooter and pretended to shoot a couple of neighbor kids as she mozied up to the first door of the night. Mrs. Poteet was well-known in the neighborhood as the “mustachioed woman.” She looked like she was Eastern European and walked everywhere she went. Mrs. Poteet wore heavy hose for her legs, long gloves and a jacket, even in the dead of the Texas summers. The other kids were hesitant to approach the Poteet’s front door, but to Juju…candy was candy, sometimes you had to lay it all on the line….besides, she was armed and sporting a mustache of her own on this night. Juju hit the buzzard and heard footsteps approaching the other side of the door. The door creaked open just enough for a long, slender arm to appear…wearing the black glove. Juju heard a thud hit the bottom of her empty sack and yelled thanks as she ran quickly back to the other side of the street and her friends. “What’d she give ya!? What is it??” they all yelled. Juju reached into the bag and pulled out one small box of raisins!! Good grief, Juju thought…not a good start for a Halloween…they moved onward….she would give the raisins to her father, he would eat anything.

Juju and her gang of friends went up and down at least 12 streets in the surrounding neighborhoods. Her grocery bag was getting full as she approached Mr. Purcell’s house on the corner of Oak Street and Brown Trail. Mr. Purcell was the high school driver’s education teacher. He and his wife really went “all out” for the kids in Juju’s neighborhood, creating a complete and scary haunted house in their backyard. Juju especially enjoyed the table where Mr. Purcell made you stick your hands into gooey monster brains (spaghetti) and guts (Jello). It was a great ending to every Halloween escapade….Juju decided to head home to categorize her loot.

The procedure was the same every year. The grocery bag was dumped in the middle of the living room floor. The candy was sorted into three different categories: 1. absolute favorites 2. trash can 3. crap my parents will eat. Juju’s father had convinced her that Milky Way bars were category 3 as it was an “adult” candy bar. She bought that theory until the age of 12 when she figured out it was just his favorite candy. The peanut butter chewy candy in the black and orange paper were always category 2. Tootsie rolls and Smarties were sectioned off and always saved soley for the enjoyment of the collector.

Juju’s mother always bought double the amount of candy that she needed to pass out….never admitting that she did it on purpose. And coincidently, the candy left over was always Mars bars….her personal favorite. Food was an important part of any holiday in Juju’s household, there was no getting around it.

Juju’s sister had just turned 13 on October 15th of that year and had a party at the house with a Halloween theme. Juju’s mother made a huge batch of orange and black sugar cookies for the event, along with smoldering punch and other treats. Juju had done her best that night to pester the group of older girls that were having a slumber party in the den. The prissy older girls ate the pile of orange cookies, but were too squeamish to eat the dark black ones. That was no problem for Juju…..she sneaked into the den on her hands and knees and grabbed the tray of uneaten sugar cookies. Having secured them safely back in her bedroom, she devoured the entire plate with a large glass of milk.

The next morning Juju let out a scream and came running out of the bathroom. It seems that there was a problem involving the color black! Juju’s mother, after personal inspection, quickly called Dr. Bullock and in no time she was speeding with her down to his office! The doctor’s first question was what had Juju had to eat the previous night? Juju’s mother stated, “I fed the girls pizza for Junene’s party…and I later saw Juju eating some vanilla ice cream.” Dr. Bullock looked through his glasses, down his nose at Juju and said, “is that all Juju??” Only then did the truth come spilling out that Juju had eaten 12 sugar cookies, made with a generous portion of black food coloring. Juju’s mother thanked the doctor for his time and led Juju out of the office.

Halloween of 1969 was indeed one to remember. That night after all the candy had been sorted and/or trashed. Juju sat on the green sculptured carpet of her living room and heard Murphy Martin on the TV say, “it’s 10 o’clock, do you know where your children are?” Juju’s mother yelled from the kitchen..”my seven kids are easy to keep track of….the cookies in this house, not so much!”

John arranged to meet Axel at the jeweler’s house at 10pm that night. The jeweler was schmoozing a client at the Mansion on Turtle Creek with cocktails and would not be home until around midnight. The score of a lifetime was going to take all of five minutes once Axel gave him the combination to the safe. John had to make sure his self-indulgence didn’t take more than an hour after removing the stones to his rental car. What the hell had he done to be enjoying this good Karma?

The repulsive Axel was like a gift from above, a lottery ticket with the winning number. As he dressed and packed his suitcase at the motel, John calmed himself. This all sounded too easy, “be prepared” he said over and over to himself in mantra. By this time next week he would meet his connection to sell the stones in Miami. Thirty-cents on the dollar was still going to make him a millionaire….the Keys would be a great place to celebrate and lay low for a while. That drink at the Mansion was going to save the jeweler’s life, but Axel would have to be put down. Society was going to be better off with that douche-bag gone. What was going through his pea-brain right now? Did he actually think he was going to be allowed to live?

Axel and the jeweler were sitting by the pool enjoying a bottle of Romanée Conti. It wasn’t everyday that the two drank a four thousand dollar bottle of wine. It was definitely special occasion stuff. The case of special French wine was down to three bottles after this, meaning this was the ninth caller the two men had received. The “visitor” always called for a spectacular vintage, no doubt about that. The two men always got a chuckle about the picture they presented though. An old man with a pace-maker in his chest and crank-head with bad teeth swilling some of the world’s best. It was a funny thing indeed when the most beautiful thing at the table was in the bottle.

Axel’s heart was already about to beat out of his chest. Tonight was the night he was going to screw his employer with the help of the good-looking stranger. Eight previous callers had knocked on the door of Tudor house in the Highland Park section of Dallas, but not a one of them had left…on his feet. The others were useless, they didn’t show any discernible skills like John had revealed. Axel had failed to tell John that the jeweler was not only a thief, but also one sick, murdering freak. He paid Axel to lure gay men to his house to, as he phrased it, “to rid the world of one more faggot.” Axel had screwed up big-time in telling John about the stash in the safe…but he was going to make it work for him. Killing the jeweler was not something he could imagine himself doing, but it had become a necessity. Axel would have to tell John the whole truth at one point, he wondered if John could stomach what was going to happen to the jeweler?

John pulled the rental onto the circular drive of the house. As he was walking up to the front door, it opened revealing Axel. Axel looked like shit, even worse than he had at the cafe. He was sweating profusely as he stood there in an old Rolling Stones t-shirt and jeans. Axel led John into the study of the house…walking directly to an original painting by R. Kenton Nelson. The painting pulled to the left from the wall, the door to the safe was presented by Axel to John as if a gift. “Now before I give you the digits John….I have to see the cash,” said Axel. The two men had negotiated a one hundred thousand dollar payday for Axel over coffee. John stood within a foot of Axel, resplendent in a black, Armani suit, a Pianki briefcase in his left hand. Inside the case were a few of John’s tools of the trade; a Glock 9mm with silencer, several pairs of surgical gloves, a pair of pliers, and one very sharp knife with a six-inch serrated blade. Poor Axel, John thought…..there will be no exchange of money, you are breathing the last breaths of your crappy little existence and you don’t even know it.

John placed the case on the mahogany desk to his right and opened it up. His next movements were so fast and cat-like that Axel yielded no resistance. The blade of the knife was pushing up against his Adam’s apple and blood started to trickle down his neck.
John, talking low and steady into Axel’s right ear, “give me the combination or I will eviscerate you!” Axel, thinking the jeweler would come in any minute with his shot-gun and rescue him, stammered and attempted to stall. Come on damn-it…Axel knew the jeweler was listening to the conversation. Axel had told the jeweler that he had gotten wasted and told John about a safe…but he vehemently had denied telling the good looking stranger about the jewels. John took the knife and with one smooth movement lobbed off Axel’s right ear. The scream that followed startled the jeweler. Good grief, he thought….Axel has welcomed a violent and diseased faggot into my house! He lifted the shotgun up, one round already racked in the chamber…the jeweler felt ready and was without fear.

Axel screamed the combination to John as he was tossed to the floor and landed in a heap. John opened the safe and retrieved the stones….he placed them in the case as the jeweler came around the corner, into the study. The jeweler leveled the shot-gun towards John but was too slow in his maneuver….John’s hand came out of the case with the Glock in it. The 9mm round, traveling at 900 feet per second, entered into the jeweler’s skull before his trigger finger could react. The jeweler was dead before he hit the ground, his eyes staring upwards at the antique, copper tiles of the study ceiling….his hands still clutching the Mossberg shot-gun. John walked towards the jeweler and stood over him….proudly looking at the entry wound, precisely in the center of the jeweler’s forehead. “Did you see that shot!?” he asked Axel. “That must be the jeweler….and that makes you a lying sack of shit!!

John was going to take extra care in dispatching Axel now…he didn’t like being on the wrong end of a double-cross. Axel told John he had told the jeweler about his loose lips and they had just planned on scaring him out of the house and their lives. John wasn’t buying what the meth-head was selling. John pulled the last couple of teeth in Axel’s head out with the pliers…they came spilling out with the true story about the gay-hating and murdering jeweler. John was feeling really good at that point…he had just unknowingly killed a homophobic serial killer…and he was getting paid to do it!

John stared at the now toothless and one-eared Axel laying on the floor. “You got blood on my suit asshole!” I will allow you to live if you can utter the one sentence that will keep me from using this 9mm again. “One lucky, rich bitch uttered the words to me this very week, come on Axel”, John screamed! “Please don’t kill me,” Axel groaned. “That’s not it loser!” replied John…then he fired one round into Axel’s head, ending him.

John left the mansion and was once again on Cedar Springs, traveling towards Love Field, his flight was leaving at 12:40 a.m. for Florida. Axel and the jeweler had provided a very surprising and different night for John. He had forgotten there are some really sick pukes in the world,….he must always be prepared for that.

John returned the rent car and was now standing in line at the security check point. He glanced down at his Texas driver’s license. It was a striking picture, surely the people at the licensing division had admired his visage and the way his shirt matched the blue background…perfectly. The security guard checked his ticket and looked down at the license…glancing back up to his face. An admiring smile crossed her face as she gazed into his grey eyes. “Have a nice trip Mr. Baines, enjoy Florida” He responded with thanks and ambled towards his gate.

I am not a monster like the jeweler he thought…there is no hate in me. And I am fair…I always give them a chance to save themselves. Axel could have talked himself out of dying…he was just too stupid. He had walked away with the stones of Cedar Springs and was now going to live well on the pristine beaches of the Keys. Rigor was setting into Axel’s corpse as Lyndon settled into his first class seat on aisle 3. The flight attendant rested her left hand on his right shoulder as she bent down to whisper in his ear. “Why thank you” he responded….if only Axel had said that.