I'll Take a Martini

"A Winter in Hell." She said while skipping ahead of Cal. "That is what I shall call this." She bit her bottom lip and floated along trying to ignore what was to come.

"Well, Beth... the body was taken care of." He looked down. She flung around to face him and continued to walk, backwards.

"Oh; but we don't kill people." She said mocking him and turned back around flinging her hair with her.

"No. We don't; kill people." Again, his eyes spoke more than his words. Their understanding of one another was irreplaceable. Others never seemed to grasp how they perceived the world. How it functioned... how it worked.

"I'm so angry with you. You took something that should have been mine." This was the first time she ever had a negative emotion toward him. And she didn't like it. "I had every right to be the one to kill him. Not you, or anyone. Me."

"You, and every other woman he hurt." He wanted to say a million things. Like that the scene would have been too much for her. The torture that the fat, stale smelling man went through was more than she could have ingested. Or even that he died quicker than he would have, if he hadn't yelled how good she was.

"Fuck you." She blurted out, wishing she hadn't immediately after. "I deserved the kill."

They kept walking down the trail, and it seemed like it would never end. Cal tucked his hands into his long coat to keep them warm. He felt the shell in his pocket from the murder weapon, and wished he could hand them to her as a souvenir. Though he didn't shoot the gun, it was the last thing the fat man saw. He stared at Beth waltzing a step or two ahead of him, stared at her hair, her body. He could only think of two things: he was scared to teach her, he needed a drink; and maybe a third thing, of how sexy she was.

They came near the ending of the trail.

"Let's... go grab a drink." He unclenched the shells and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to him. They were entering a territory that wasn't his. But if a person was in his life, they were important. And he protected anyone important.

Beth bounced next to him holding his arm. "Yes please! Anything to get me out of--"

"Well, well, look at this Carlos! We got us a Cal!" Two men came lurking from the shadows of an old, shutdown flour mill. Beth clung to Cal's back. "How about we play a little... chase the kitten."

"Mm. That one looks good Cal, where did you get her?" He wiped his snot and beer smelling saliva with the sleeve of his coat. His beard hair had tiny icicles in it.

"Leave us be Mike. Why don't you and your buddy step out of our way. We don't need this done right now."

"Oh but Cal, I think we do. You seen Bill... Cal?" The street lamp near them flickered.

"Bill is a lucky one Mike. Now excuse us." Cal knew there wouldn't be any excusing as he tried to back away with Beth still clinging to him.

"I ain't gonna let that happen now little Cal." Mike stepped in front them.

Cal knew Beth wouldn't let go of him unless he made her. In one turn, his left hand threw her to the ground and he crouched down to grab his knife from his belt wrap. Carlos pounced on him from the right and Cal immediately punctured him in the gut. Blood spat on Cal as well as everything in close proximity to them. Jumping up quickly he noticed Mike just staring at him.

"Lets get this done Mike, you can lay right next to Bill." Cal stood out of the light listening to Beth pant with small gagging noises.

"I think your weapon choice is finally ready to haunt you." Mike held up a pristine looking tan and silver semi automatic pistol.

Cal laughed. "All you have to do is get close enough to make your kill. One hit is one kill. It is that simple." And he flew to Mike, making his statement known and true.



Beth pushed herself to her knees weeping. Cal turned to her and knelt in front of her. "I can't see his blood." She inhaled loudly.

"What do you mean?" He said with a serene, monotone voice.

"There's mud... under the snow, and I can't see the difference between his blood, and the dirt. Dirt. Does that mean Spring is fucking coming?" She had tears dripping down her face.

"I hate Spring." Cal said still in front of her. "Let's take advantage of the rest of this dark night." His deep voice lured Beth to her feet.

"How did you know them?" Beth tried to gather her scattered mind.

"You sure you want to learn?" Cal looked at her with such a deep hearted and staid look that she felt her body become light, and heavy, at the same time. She looked away from him knowing for sure what she was going to drink.

Bloody Snow

"What the hell are you doing?" Cal looked at Beth who was sitting in the cold with blood drops around her in the snow. She wouldn't move.

"Beth... what are you doing? We have to take care of this."

"Mittens?" She said stoically, holding up the empty red pair to him.

"Why are you bleeding? What's going on? It's been three days. We can't wait any longer." Beth turned away and tucked the mittens into her bag. She moved her hair from her face with difficulty because of her mittens, and the cold. She wanted so bad for Cal to hold her, but he wasn't the type. Though he would probably do it with his eyes. He spoke with his eyes a lot.

"You need to do this with me, you asked for my help. My help is to teach you."

"Teach me? I'm lost in a land far away Cal. I'm finding it hard to care about anything these days. In fact, the only thing I do care about is the fact that I can't care about anything." She looked at him to see what his eyes said... nothing.

"You cared when we beat that dirt bag. You had plenty of emotion." He looked at her now with more talkative eyes. She felt a little pressure come off of her chest when she noticed.

"That dirt bag should have been killed. By my own hands." She looked down angrily.

"We don't kill people." His arms lay by his sides and his breathing was even. She stared at the cloud that came every time he exhaled.

"I'm getting too cold." She said while searching for a cigarette in her bag. One left. She ripped her mittens off and touched the filter to her lips, lit it, and inhaled deeply. She hated smoking in front of him, and all together. Three days ago, one more blow and the dirt bag would have died. Just one more; that Cal wouldn't let Beth throw. "Do you like my snowman Cal?" She looked at the snowman realizing he was missing a nose and mouth. "Only I could manage to forget the face."

Cal laughed one 'heh' and held his hand out to her. Beth threw her cigarette and blew out her last drag. She grabbed her bag and grabbed his hand forcing the energy to stand up. He helped her.

"Get your hat and scarf." He said nodding to the snowman. She looked at the sparkling balls of snow..."I'm fine." she said shrugging. "You know this is my space Cal? My solitude. How did you find me here?"

His eyes were somber. "I heard you crying."

"How could you have known where I was though?" She looked at him flustered.

"We are friends... Beth. We are..." he had a weird look to his face, "we are friends."

She knew she wasn't going to get an answer from him, but it didn't bother her. Cal was an intelligent man. Her terrible esteem made her wonder sometimes why he was in her life. But she would never question him, for she regarded him as... she regarded him very highly.

"How's your cut?" He looked at her concerned. She felt her body shiver, and not from the cold, but from his voice.

She touched it with her two fingers feeling the thick dried up layer of liquid. "I'll survive." She replied.

"Good." He said with a slight smile. "Are you ready?"

She shook her head and they trailed through the snow side by side. She still had no answers. But she was on a mission to find them.

A Jingle

So, everyone... I realize I haven't posted in awhile, and I realize we all hate when people don't update their blogs... here's something. Though I have a little curb going on right now... I can't seem to stop singing the Bounty paper towel jingle. Enjoy! And Happy Holidays.



She is here to try and hold back her hurt. She's becoming cold, and she's trying to decipher this change she feels. This is her solitude. This is her snow globe.

Her mittens are blue with a red heart in the center. They keep her fingers toasty while she touches the snow. She looks up as if falls all around her, hitting her eyelashes and dripping down her cheeks. She has a blue hat, and red scarf to match. It takes her an hour to finish the snowman. She loves the gentle memories of being a child in winter time.

She gives him two rocks for eyes, and shivers while taking her scarf and hat off, to put on him. Her phone rings unexpectedly. She pulls it out of her pocket and on the third ring hits silent, so she doesn't have to hear it ring anymore.
For she's empty.

Her other pocket holds a gingerbread man wrapped in a paper towel. She made many the night before. He has blue eyes and blue buttons. His sleeves and legs are adorned with white frosting. She looks at the cookie and has no room for thought about anything other than the fact that there is a home made gingerbread house sitting on the counter in her home, unfinished.
She bites the head off of her ginger bread man just like a child would, and chuckles to herself at how good it tastes to behead a cookie.

The snow flakes are getting bigger. Her snowman already has a layer of fresh snow on him. Any sign of her hands working hard on him are now diminished.
She sits next to a small evergreen finishing her cookie. Now she's starting to think more. The five W's plague her mind. Why? Who?-- but especially the added H, how?

She looks down at the empty red mittens next to her. She wants to cry so badly. The snowflakes do it for her. She rubs her arms and runs her cheek along the top of her shoulder to try and comfort herself. What is going on? She doesn't even know.
All she knows is that there is no one that understands her. No one who is like her.
How will she cope with this for her life? How will this, being alone, not turn into loneliness? The ground beneath her starts to shake and she puts both of her hands on the tree to sturdy herself. Her face crashes against the rough trunk and cuts her chin.

Things settle again, as it snows more. She she's drops of blood fall into the snow, and realizes the cut is not going to stop bleeding anytime soon. She is happy to have the towel with her that her cookie sat in. She holds the towel over her wound. And something snaps. She starting crying. Crying and crying. Happy as ever that no one was around to hear her. She continued to cry until her eyes became swollen and her voice became hoarse. She heard footsteps in the snow behind her.

Who? This is her solitude.
She decides not to move an inch until she has answers to her questions.
Frozen, in her globe.