The Conservative Cave

Current Events => The DUmpster => The DUmping Ground => Topic started by: Big Dog on June 23, 2012, 11:58:18 AM

Title: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on June 23, 2012, 11:58:18 AM: Note: This story began life as a post in A Cry in the Dark... (http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,74366.msg892096.html#msg892096), with chapters following in Omaha Steve, the Perennial Victim (http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,74423.msg892627.html#msg892627). The story below has been edited to create a more unified narrative.

This is a work of fiction, with the exception of a certain redhead's breasts, which are 100% real. Actual characters, places, and events are used for narrative effect, as parody, and for my own amusement (see redhead's breasts).

Money back guarantee if not completely satisfied.

This story is not copyrighted. It may be freely distributed as long as the blame for its creation is properly attributed. Anyone who steals it deserves what he gets. See The Ransom of Red Chief (http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/ohenry/bl-ohenry-ransomred.htm) and consider yourself fairly warned.

(http://lh5.ggpht.com/-VzGSSVFpeCw/S2k5OZdOpFI/AAAAAAAABT8/xu-VD520VTg/phphJ8RHLAM-1.jpg)

What do you expect? I'm a cigar smoking Dog!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on June 23, 2012, 12:00:16 PM: Steve Dawes sat at home in his underpants, snorting ground-up Oxycontin and eating frozen mini-tacos straight from the freezer. He hadn't put on pants nor left the house for a month, since he came in a disappointing third in the four-man race for Bellevue City Council. He looked at the one yard sign he salvaged on Election Day, propped against the wall in the spare bedroom he called his "office". The home page on his computer was www.electstevedawes.com; even his own face mocked him. On the bedroom wall was a corkboard with scribbled notes and photographs of a half-dozen men, and one woman, whom Steve incorrectly thought may be his nemesis, franksolich. A badly-written flyer, ink smeared by mini-taco grease, sat on the bedside table; an old pistol, a Walther P38 his father brought home at the end of WWII, and a box of cartridges rested on the flyer. Steve thought about his life. In his mind he heard a saxophone dirge played by a high school girl in a basketball uniform. Steve wept bitter, bitter tears.

Marta looked in on him, and Steve glanced up at her with tears running down his face into his neckbeard. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped under her housedress. She had tried once to tell him to man up and move on with his life, but his wailing drove her to the basement for the whole afternoon. Steve remembered getting his father's pistol from that box under the bed that day, but didnâ€™t remember buying the cartridges- but he must have, right? He told himself he would not pick up the pistol as long as Marta checked on him from time to time.

Marta looked down at him once more, and then padded out to the kitchen. From her purse, she took a receipt from Costco for a 144-count box of mini-tacos, and another from Cabela's for one box of 9mm cartridges. She tore up the receipts and threw them away. A single, weary tear ran down her cheek. She said to herself that maybe some time apart would do them both good.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on June 23, 2012, 12:07:00 PM: The rising sun awakened Marta, and she realized she had fallen asleep on the sofa. She listened to the sounds of a quiet house; the ticking of her grandmother's wind-up clock in the hallway, the mechanical whirring of the refrigerator as it moved unsteadily but inexorably toward its last tray of ice cubes. Marta allowed herself a bitter minute as she thought about the money Steve wasted on his City Council campaign. "Really," Marta said to herself, "$1,000 for one yard sign? And with my credit card! Dammit, Steve, there goes my new refrigerator." With that thought, Marta realized there was something she didn't hear- Steve.

For one long moment, Marta savored the thought that Steve had finally accomplished something. She said to herself, "If he'd put it in his mouth, I wouldn't have heard it. Right?" A flash of guilt followed the faintly eager smile across her face. Marta had been raised with good, solid Midwestern values, and she knew that didn't include smiling at the mental picture of her husband lying on the bedroom floor with a Walther P38 in his mouth. Besides, she had a pretty good idea how difficult it would be to clean up after, and that wiped any trace of a smile from her face.

The moment passed when Marta heard a long, ragged snore from the spare bedroom Steve called his "office", followed by a moist eruption of familiar flatulence. Steve had nodded off in front of the computer, as he so often did after snorting his Oxycontin. Marta looked in the door, and her gaze lingered on the Walther and the unopened box of cartridges on the bedside table. She dismissed the thought that flitted through her head; she had watched enough CSI to know she would be caught, and she'd watched enough NCIS to know a good investigator would get her to confess.

Steve was quiet for a few seconds, then snored again, a ragged, uneven gasp for air. Marta knew Steve's doctor had warned him about sleeping without the CPAP, but this morning she didn't mind that every gasp for air shortened Steve's lifespan. But, she had a headache from falling asleep on the couch, and his gasping and snoring made her head throb.

"Wake up, dammit", she said. Steve snorted, farted again, and stirred. He realized, after Marta did, that he was wearing the same underpants he had been wearing for the past two days (â€œor was it three?â€, he asked himself). He scratched his neckbeard, went to the bathroom, and relieved himself with the door open. Marta looked at the Walther again; a long, lingering, almost languorous look. The sound of the toilet flushing brought her back from her reverie.

"Mini-tacos?" Steve slurred, the remnants of Oxycontin still turning his words to fuzz. "Get 'em yourself," Marta said. Steve waddled to the kitchen, scratching various body parts as he went. He grabbed two mini-tacos from the box in the freezer, stuffed one in his mouth, and warmed the other in his hand. Marta realized he had not washed his hands after using the toilet.

"When are you going to get out of the house?â€ she asked. Steve made a face like he was thinking about the answer (was he? She didn't really know anymore). "Don't wanna", he slurred. "Frank Smolish and the Cravers...er, the Clavers...ummm, Fronk SOLICH.. aww hell, they are out there. And the voters of the First Ward are still out there".

Marta responded, crossly, "I don't care if the Ghost of Ronald Reagan himself is out there, carrying a copy of Atlas Shrugged! You will take a shower, you will put on clean underpants, you will get out of this house, and you will take our granddaughter to the park!" She punctuated every "will" with a harmless, but attention-getting tap on Steve's forehead from the rolling pin she had picked up from the counter.

Steve was more frightened of Marta than he was of the voters of the First Ward, of the Ghost of Ronald Reagan, of a ghostly copy of Atlas Shrugged, or even of franksolich. He sulked on the way to the bathroom. As he showered, Marta considered, but dismissed the thought; no one would believe that Steve had shot himself in the shower. She sighed.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on June 23, 2012, 12:14:10 PM: After his shower, Steve dressed and walked back to the kitchen. The shower had washed away most of the Oxycontin cobwebs. He wanted to give Marta a bit of payback for whacking him on the forehead with the rolling pin. He thought about what he would say to her, settling on "I put on clean underpants, but not 'cuz you told me to". He knew it was weak sauce, but he didn't want to feel the rolling pin again.

As he rounded the corner from the hallway to the kitchen, Steve took a deep breath, but he caught himself. Did he just hear Marta softly say, "...one of the nicest guys one can ever hope to meet"? His wide eyes took in the scene: Marta sitting at the kitchen table in her housedress with her laptop and a cup of coffee. Her face had a faint glow, and her eyes were soft. On the screen of her laptop was the familiar blue and white of that website. Steve started to sputter, and Marta closed the laptop.

"Howâ€¦ how could you?" Steve spit. Marta looked down, and said softly, "He called me a saint. Well, almost a saint." I don't care if he said you are the love child of Vic Morrow and Gloria Steinem, never speak well of that man in my house again!" Marta shouted, "Whose house?" as she stood and reached for the rolling pin. Steve told himself he'd won this round, and made for the door. It was Father's Day, after all, and he was going to take his granddaughter to the park.

As he drove to pick up Madison, Steve thought about Marta's softness for franksolich; and about his collection of pictures of people who could be the elusive nemesis. Steve's simple, suspicious mind went to a dark place, a place completely divorced from reality, a place in which Marta and franksolich alone lived. He told himself that he was justified in fantasizing about high school basketball girls while he was in bed with Marta. "Serves her right." he said to himself.

Since his primary loss, Steve had become convinced that franksolich and his fellow Conservatives were stalking him, following him whenever he left the house. Steve began to look at the drivers and pedestrians around him, calling up his mental mug shots from the Cave. Here was a man who looked like Jan Michael Vincent. "That must be Airwolf!" Steve screamed as he sped up and made a sudden right turn. There was a redheaded woman, busty and bold, eating ice cream with long, slow licks. "GINA! AAAH", Steve screeched and drove through a red light. A police officer became dutch508, who must have driven across the state to torment him; a mannequin in a naughty nurse's costume in the window of Priscilla's turned into Celtic Rose. A random man on a motorcycle became Big Dog; Steve was certain he saw a stainless steel .45 on the man's hip, although it was only in his mind.

Steve arrived at Madison's house shaking and sweating. She was overjoyed to see her grandpa, but she wrinkled her nose. "Grandpa, you smell like sweaty poop". "Honey, poop doesn't sweat," Madison's mother said gently. Madison shrugged her shoulders and thought of going out for Sunday Funday with her grandpa. "Where are we going, grandpa?" Steve said, "We're going to Missouri Valley to ride the train." He figured he could slip out of town without being noticed by the horde of Conservatives who lived in his head, and could relax. Besides, he really, really liked small-scale trains- not that there's anything wrong with that.

Steve was still shaking and sweating, but not from fear alone. He went to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar, and relieved himself. He then took one of the Oxycontin tablets from the pillbox Marta had given him last Father's Day. Amor fidelis, Steve read bitterly from the lid of the pillbox, as he crushed the white tablet and snorted the coarse powder. As he stepped out of the bathroom, Madison looked at his face, in search of a smile from her grandpa. She said cheerily, "Grandpa, you have something on your face", pointing to the white residue in his straggly mustache. Steve licked his fingers, picked up the stray powder, and licked his fingers again. Madison giggled, remembering that Grandpa had not washed his hands after using the toilet and finding it wonderfully funny.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on June 23, 2012, 01:05:07 PM: I, for one, am awaiting the next installment with baited breasts. This is like back in the 50's waiting for Commando Cody or Don Winslow.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Mr Mannn on June 23, 2012, 01:17:07 PM: I applaud your literary skills! Hi5
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Texacon on June 23, 2012, 01:32:29 PM: :lmao:

KC
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on June 23, 2012, 01:35:31 PM: By the time they got to Missouri Valley, Madison was ecstatic. She loved trains, and she had loved the ride from her house. She squealed with delight every time Steve sped up, made a sudden lane change, or unexpectedly exited the Interstate. She didnâ€™t understand why her grandpa kept looking over his shoulder, nor the names he muttered as he drove. She did get impatient, though, when he parked in that truck stop parking lot and sat, watching for anyone who may be following them. â€œGrandpa, letâ€™s go!â€

As they drove north again, Steve heard a sound outside the car that made his blood run cold. He looked out the window and saw a big black helicopter of some kind flying parallel to the Interstate. Steve murmered to himself nervously as the helicopter overtook them and continued north, which drew a question from Madison. â€œGrandpa, whatâ€™s an Obama Zombie?â€ Steve didnâ€™t answer her.

When they got to Missouri Valley, Steve found the city park, and they walked to the Watson Steam Train depot. Madison had started to run ahead, but then stopped to wait for Grandpa. Why did he keep looking around? She didnâ€™t know. Steve bought the train tickets, and they waited for the miniature train to return to the depot from its route through the riverside park. Madison jumped up and down as the little train rolled into the depot and stopped. In Steveâ€™s mind, a giant cloud of steam engulfed them, just like in the movies.

Madison reached up for her grandpa to pick her up, so she could get on the train. Steve looked around furtively, then scooped her up in his arms. She gave Grandpa a kiss, and wiggled out of his arms into a seat of her own. Steve sat behind her, excited but still apprehensive.

As the Watson left the station, Madison held her arms over her head, like she had done on the ride at Worlds of Fun the year before. Steve smiled, but his eyes werenâ€™t smiling. He saw a man with a camera, taking pictures of the train, but more importantly, of him. Steve didnâ€™t recognize the man from his mental mug shot gallery of Conservatives, but he thought franksolich could send a spy whom Steve wouldnâ€™t suspect. Steve was sullen for the rest of the ride, as he began to sweat and shake again.

After finishing the ride, Steve had to find a bathroom. His constitution didnâ€™t tolerate stress well, he told himself. As he took Madisonâ€™s hand to walk across the park, Steve saw the man with the camera again. He forgot his need to relieve himself, and walked up to the photographer, dragging Madison behind. The man noticed Steve approaching, but did not react otherwise.

â€œWhat are you doing?â€ Steve demanded. â€œWhy are you following me?â€ The man replied, â€œIâ€™m not following you, mister. I â€˜m just taking pictures.â€ â€œWho sent you?â€ â€œNobody, mister. Like I said, Iâ€™m just taking pictures. You know, the train, the park, maybe a pretty girl.â€ Steve wrinkled his nose, his Conservative Detector sounding an alarm in his head. He knew only Conservatives said â€œpretty girlâ€, it was so politically incorrect! â€œTell that franksolich to leave me alone!â€ Steve yelled, which brought a quizzical look to the manâ€™s face.

The man glanced around Steve and saw Madison, holding her grandpaâ€™s hand. â€œI think I took a picture of her on the trainâ€, he said, gesturing toward Madison. "I can send you the picture if you like.â€ Steve was suspicious, but figured one of his Democratic Underground friends could trace an e-mail address, or an IP, or something, and find out who this spy really was. â€œSureâ€, Steve said, suddenly solicitous. "Send it to me at omahasteve@stevedawes2012.com.â€ The man keyed the address into his iPhone, and promised to send the picture that night.

Madison wanted to ride the train again, but Steve told her it was time to go. After the confrontation with the photographer, Steve again felt the need to relieve himself, stronger than before. Steve was a good grandpa and made sure his little girl was not left standing outside while he was in the restroom. He attended to his business, including another toot of powdered Oxycontin, and they headed for the car. Madison walked a few feet away from Steve, just far enough that he couldnâ€™t hold her hand, because she had again noticed he didnâ€™t wash his hands after using the toilet. This time she didnâ€™t giggle.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on June 23, 2012, 02:29:11 PM: Whoa.

That's good, really good; I especially like the realism of it all.

Damn.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Skul on June 23, 2012, 03:20:34 PM: It was my "walk around" camera. I didn't bring the good rig. :whistling:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: diesel driver on June 23, 2012, 06:01:33 PM: Quote from: Skul on June 23, 2012, 03:20:34 PM
It was my "walk around" camera. I didn't bring the good rig. :whistling:

Good thing, too.

If Steve had grabbed for your good rig, that would be reason enough for a righteous beatdown! :hammer:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Celtic Rose on June 30, 2012, 02:52:31 PM: I'm horribly late to the party, but I wanted to say good job on this, and thanks for the shout out :rofl:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Skul on June 30, 2012, 03:43:52 PM: Quote from: Celtic Rose on June 30, 2012, 02:52:31 PM
I'm horribly late to the party, but I wanted to say good job on this, and thanks for the shout out :rofl:
Were there any of Steve Dawes (socialist) flyers left in the toilets at Bears?
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on June 30, 2012, 03:53:02 PM: Steve should have really been looking out for the guy on that grassy knoll I tell you.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: BadCat on June 30, 2012, 03:59:27 PM: Quote from: Airwolf on June 30, 2012, 03:53:02 PM
Steve should have really been looking out for the guy on that grassy knoll I tell you.

The worthless fat **** has his very own grassy knoll...and it's us.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 01, 2012, 08:19:03 PM: Steve dropped Madison at her parentsâ€™ house. He had not shaken the feeling of unease since having his picture taken at the miniature railroad, not even with another noseful of ground up Oxycontin. The drug had no effect on his apprehension, but it did make him feel strangely weepy.

As he drove, he watched traffic and the streets warily. He thought about the things he knew from reading the Conservative Cave, and the things he imagined must be true about the Conservatives. His mental pictures became more disjointed. At one point, he was convinced that Big Dog was an actual talking dog who smoked cigars. â€œDogâ€™s canâ€™t smoke cigarsâ€, he finally told himself, â€œthey donâ€™t have thumbs!â€ He laughed involuntarily, a strange and high-pitched giggle. He choked off the laughter, however, when he thought about franksolich again. Steve thought about the similarities between franksolich and Big Dog. He knew both had talked about their hearing, both were writers, and both knew Nebraska like natives. With a start, Steve concluded that franksolich and Big Dog were the same person. How could he have missed it for so long? He drove faster toward home, his mind racing. He would finally be the hero of Democratic Underground! But, which person was real, and which was the alter ego? He pondered that question as he pulled up to his house.

Martaâ€™s car was not in the driveway. Steveâ€™s mind started to go to the dark place again, that place inhabited by Marta and franksolich alone. Or was it Big Dog? He didn't know anymore. His face reddened as he walked through the house, calling her name. No answer. By the time he reached the second bedroom he liked to call his â€œofficeâ€, he was in a red rage. He grabbed the Walther pistol and stuck it in his belt. He left the box of cartridges; he really didnâ€™t know how to load the pistol anyway.

Steve drove around Bellevue, looking for Martaâ€™s car. The more he drove, the more he saw the faces of his imagined tormenters in every car, and in every shop window. He became more frantic as he drove, failing to be reassured by not seeing Martaâ€™s car parked at a bar or motel.

Meanwhile, Marta came home from the grocery store. Steveâ€™s car was not in the driveway, and she didnâ€™t feel like calling him to see when heâ€™d be home. For a little bit, she would enjoy the time to herself. She carried in the groceries, unpacked and put them away, then walked through the house. She had noticed that the door to the spare bedroom was open, and when she looked inside she saw the Walther pistol was gone. She cried for a few minutes, and then sat waiting for the inevitable phone call.

Steve was still driving through Olde Town. He drove past Bearâ€™s Bar and saw a big blue motorcycle parked right in front.

(http://i1055.photobucket.com/albums/s511/electstevedawes/Loose%20ends/DSC01638.jpg)

Steve remembered through the Oxycontin haze that Big Dog said he rode a big blue motorcycle. He told himself, â€œthat must mean franksolich is here!â€ He thought of Marta saying â€œone of the nicest guys you could ever meetâ€, and the last bit of sanity left him. He drove up onto the curb, and barreled into the bar.

Bearâ€™s Bar was quiet that afternoon. A few regulars sat at the bar, and a small group shared drinks and talk at one of the tables. Steve looked around wildly, and reached into his pants for the pistol, which had slipped from his belt down into his underwear. He shouted â€œI know youâ€™re here, Frank Solich!â€ The bartender wondered why he was calling out a former University of Nebraska football coach while sticking his hand down the front of his pants. But, before the bartender could ask Steve what he was talking about, Steve got his hand on the grip of the Walther. In the next instant, all heads turned at the sound of the gunshot.

All heads, that is, but one.

Two sounds broke the stunned silence which followed. The first was a high-pitched strangled scream, which Steve realized was coming from him. The second was the voice of a man at the small table, a man who was sitting with his back to the door, the only person who didn't turn his head at the sound of the shot. The man said laconically, still without turning, "looks like Omaha Steve shot himself in the foot, again."
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on July 01, 2012, 10:32:09 PM: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 08, 2012, 06:18:36 PM: Steve Dawes fell to the floor of the bar, screaming. He couldnâ€™t form a rational thought amongst the stew of pain, fear, and anger boiling in his brain. He just began to realize that he had shot himself in the foot, when he looked down and his pain turned to horror.

Omaha Steveâ€™s lap was on fire.

His scream rose an octave, and the words â€œIâ€™m on fire!â€ were barely distinguishable from his blubbering and screeching. From the table where the man sat with his back to the door, a pretty redhead stood up with a pitcher of beer. She quickly and efficiently poured the beer into Steveâ€™s lap, and then knelt beside him. â€œRelax,â€ she said calmly, â€œand let me take a look at your footâ€. As she tended to his injury, the bartender called 911. Soon sirens approached, and the strange quiet of the bar gave way to the controlled chaos of the police and EMS response. Steve was quickly packaged, moved out to the ambulance, and transported to the hospital.

The police officer questioned everyone in the bar. The bartender said he had heard Steve call out the retired Nebraska football coach Frank Solich, then shoot himself. A patron who sat at the bar reported that Steve took a little too much time fishing around the front of his pants before he shot himself. The pretty redhead identified herself as a nursing student and said she was willing to take care of Steveâ€™s foot, but the Good Samaritan law did not require her to look in Steveâ€™s trousers for the source of the fire. One by one, the other people in the bar gave their statements; everyone in the room remembered the man with his back to the door saying "Looks like Omaha Steve shot himself in the foot, again."

During the interviews, the man with his back to the door remained silent. He did not turn around, but remained facing away from the door. The police officer sat down at the table to interview him. He was a big fella, dark-haired with grey at the temples, and dressed in a motorcycle vest and sleeveless t-shirt. His face was suntanned below the eyes, and pale above. The police officer recognized the man as a long-distance rider, and mentally connected him to the big blue motorcycle parked in front of the bar. â€œHow do you know the victim, and how did you know he had shot himself in the foot? And what did you mean, â€˜againâ€™?â€

The man replied, â€œIâ€™ve never met Steve Dawes before in my life, but I know him.â€ The officer heard a bit of West Texas in the cadence of the manâ€™s voice, slow and deliberate. The officer asked again, â€œHow?â€, but the man didnâ€™t respond. When the officer asked, â€œHow did you know without turning around that he had shot himself in the foot?â€ the man said simply, â€œIt couldnâ€™t have happened any other way. Steve always shoots himself in the foot, no matter what he does in life.â€ The officer realized he would get no more from this witness, closed his notebook, and left for the hospital.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on July 08, 2012, 07:38:57 PM: The bar will never be the same again,LOL.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on July 08, 2012, 08:46:09 PM: Quote from: Airwolf on July 08, 2012, 07:38:57 PM
The bar will never be the same again,LOL.

Not to mention OS's foot. On the bright side, disability here we come!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 08, 2012, 10:30:24 PM: Lying on the cart in the Emergency Room, Steve was sweating and shaking. It had been nearly three hours since the last dose of Oxycontin had gone up his nose, and the ER doctor refused to give him anything stronger than Toradol for his pain. Steve looked down at the IV in his left wrist, at the handcuff on his right, and at the sheriffâ€™s deputy sitting at the door to his exam room. Steve knew he wasnâ€™t going anywhere, no matter how twitchy he got.

The paramedics had cut away his trousers in the ambulance, and they had found the Walther P38 still stuck in the front of his underpants. The slide was caught on a half-ejected shell casing, and the magazine was empty. With a few words on the radio and a quick stop, the ambulance took on another passenger- the Sarpy County sheriffâ€™s deputy who was now sitting at the door. Steve was cuffed to the ambulance cot.

The doctor had examined Steve quickly but thoroughly when he arrived at the ER. No trauma alert needed here, just another customer at the Knife and Gun Club. Fortunately for Steve, the bullet had completely missed everything in his pants, and the burns were superficial. The wound to his foot did not appear to worry the ER staff, which gave Steve a small measure of relief.

As his mind cleared of the Oxycontin and adrenaline in his system, Steve started to put his thoughts together. The man who had sat with his back to the door at Bearâ€™s Bar had to be one of the Conservatives, probably franksolich or Big Dog, if they werenâ€™t the same man. I was this close, Steve told himself. He took a small bit of consolation from the memory that the man was sitting with the pretty redhead, and not with Marta.

The doctor came into his room, with two x-rays in hand. He clipped the films into a viewing box, and Steve saw the bones of his foot. The doctor said, â€œMr. Dawes, it appears that you are a very lucky man. The bullet passed through your foot without breaking any bones, but you do have some soft tissue damage. Weâ€™re going to give you an IV antibiotic, take care of that burn, put you in an orthopedic boot, and give you a prescription for an antibiotic to take at homeâ€¦â€ The doctor looked at the deputy sitting at the door, and chuckled. â€œWell, you know what I mean. You'll follow up with an orthopedic surgeon in a few days. The nurse will be in shortly to take care of you.â€ Steve said, â€œI need something for pain. Can you give me something?â€ The doctor told him the Toradol would have to do, and left for the nurseâ€™s station to pass on the orders.

While the antibiotics ran into Steveâ€™s arm, a nurse applied Silvadene cream to his burns and wrapped his foot in gauze and an Ace wrap. His foot was strapped into an orthopedic boot. The nurse fitted him with crutches, despite his protestation that he needed an electric wheelchair and motorized scooter. She patiently explained that the ER didnâ€™t prescribe those things, and the exercise would be good for him. Steve looked glum; he really liked riding the motorized scooter. His face clouded up even more when he looked up and saw the police officer from the bar standing in the doorway.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: shadeaux on July 08, 2012, 11:24:03 PM: I am laughing SO hard I can barely type !

Some vagisil, an always maxi pad, two Bayer aspirin for Steve's boo boo should help. :lmao:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on July 08, 2012, 11:30:07 PM: Quote from: shadeaux on July 08, 2012, 11:24:03 PM
I am laughing SO hard I can barely type !

Some vagisil, an always maxi pad, two Bayer aspirin for Steve's boo boo should help. :lmao:

Personally I was hoping for a little more muzzle flash damage. Great story nonetheless.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: shadeaux on July 08, 2012, 11:34:47 PM: HILARIOUS !!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on July 09, 2012, 03:44:28 AM: Lucky for him it wasn't a .44 magnum hollow point
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on July 09, 2012, 10:18:06 AM: Quote from: shadeaux on July 08, 2012, 11:34:47 PM
HILARIOUS !!!

You know that Stevo has to be following this. That gives me such a warm feeling.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: USA4ME on July 09, 2012, 10:35:03 AM: Quote from:
The bartender wondered why he was calling out a former University of Nebraska football coach while sticking his hand down the front of his pants.

:rotf:

.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: J. M. Pyne on July 09, 2012, 03:00:10 PM: More! More!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on July 09, 2012, 03:04:01 PM: :rofl: :rotf: :lmao: This is great!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on July 09, 2012, 03:28:12 PM: Quote from: Karin on July 09, 2012, 03:04:01 PM
:rofl: :rotf: :lmao: This is great!

Saw there was a new post & rushed over expecting a new installment. Big disapointment.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: NHSparky on July 09, 2012, 08:53:45 PM: Sadly, the REAL story of Omaha Steve is far more pathetic.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: BlueStateSaint on July 10, 2012, 11:22:18 AM: Quote from: NHSparky on July 09, 2012, 08:53:45 PM
Sadly, the REAL story of Omaha Steve is far more pathetic.

Ain't that the truth! :loser:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 15, 2012, 06:16:31 PM: The police officer removed the handcuff from Steveâ€™s wrist, giving him a momentâ€™s hope that he would leave the hospital a free man. The moment was short-lived. The officer secured Steve to the cot with a plastic cuff, and handed the steel bracelets to the sheriffâ€™s deputy. The officers exchanged a few words, and the deputy left.

The police officer said to Steve, â€œMr. Dawes, I need to ask you some questions. We have been unable to contact your wife. Can you tell us where she is?â€

Steve said, â€œSheâ€™s probably off somewhere with that franksolich.â€

â€œYour wife ran off with Frank Solich, the former Nebraska football coach?â€ the officer asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

â€œNo, the other franksolichâ€, Steve replied with an agitated tone. â€œYou know who Iâ€™m talking about!â€

The officer made a note on his report form, and then said, â€œI think weâ€™ll wait on the rest of the questions.â€ He left the room. A minute later, Steve saw him talking to the doctor at the nurseâ€™s station. They returned together to the treatment room.

â€œMr. Dawes,â€ the doctor said, â€œI understand you think your wife ran off with a football coach. Why would you think that?â€

Steve yelled, â€œNot the football coach! The other one! The other one!â€ He looked at the doctor and the police officer with quickly-building suspicion. He realized the doctor had long hair. â€œLet me see your ears! Your ears!â€

The doctor took an involuntary step back. He had experienced many strange things in his career, but had never had his ears become the subject of a patientâ€™s fixation. â€œWeâ€™ll need to run a couple of tests, Mr. Dawes. Donâ€™t go anywhere.â€ The doctor chuckled again. The officer made another note on his report form.

A few minutes later, a nurse came to draw blood and take a urine sample for a drug screen. Steve refused to use the urinal, even when the nurse said heâ€™d have to use a catheter if Steve didnâ€™t cooperate. As the nurse inserted the catheter, Steve unexpectedly asked him, â€œDid you ever consider playing football for the University of Nebraska?â€ The nurse dismissed the comment. Steve pressed on, â€œHow about a happy ending, huh?â€

The nurse said, â€œIâ€™m in the union. Thatâ€™s not in my contract.â€
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on July 15, 2012, 06:43:11 PM: Worth the wait. Now, get back to work.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 15, 2012, 07:19:01 PM: Quote from: Bad Dog on July 15, 2012, 06:43:11 PM
Worth the wait. Now, get back to work.

I relaxed this weekend. Rode down to Cottonwood Falls for blackberry pie and bluegrass music yesterday, went to the range today.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 15, 2012, 07:59:00 PM: Marta drove west on I-80. Her eyes, which had been red from crying, now shone brightly. An observer would see years leave her face with each mile she put behind her. â€œNot that Steve ever noticed,â€ she said to the reflection in the rear-view mirror.

She had been sitting, waiting for a call from the police, or someone, telling her Steveâ€™s body had been found. She was certain he had taken the Walther to kill himself. She hadnâ€™t found a suicide note in the house, so she decided to check Steveâ€™s laptop. She had long ago figured out his password- franksolich. She looked through Steveâ€™s documents, but found no suicide note. She told herself it was probably for the best, making his death appear to be a spur-of-the-moment action. â€œHeck, I may even get the unionâ€™s life insurance paymentâ€, she said to herself.

Curiosity got the best of Marta; she clicked on â€œMy Picturesâ€. The first folder was titled â€œBBâ€. Marta knew too well of Steveâ€™s fetish for high school girlsâ€™ basketball players; once, many years ago, he had begged her to wear a uniform to bed. Being a woman of good, solid Midwestern values, Marta refused. "I'd never do that sort of thing," she had told him. She still remembered the look on Steve's face when she said it.

Marta opened the folder.

The laptop screen was filled with little pictures of girls in basketball uniforms. Too many girls. Marta thought of the nights Steve had locked himself in the spare bedroom he called his â€œofficeâ€ with the laptop, and she felt sick to her stomach. Her revulsion got worse when she saw a folder titled â€œFBâ€; she remembered Steveâ€™s fanaticism about recruiting homosexuals for the University of Nebraska football team. Before she opened the folder, she let her mind make the connection from Nebraska football to Frank Solich, to franksolich. Softly, she said â€œalmost a saintâ€. It seemed to strengthen her, and she opened the â€œFootballâ€ folder. It was exactly as she expected, dozens of pictures of young football players, mostly of their backsides.

At that moment the telephone rang. Marta, who was crying, jumped, but let the answering machine pick up the call. â€œThis is a message for Mrs. Marta Dawes. Mrs. Dawes, this is the Bellevue Police Department. Please call the Detective division as soon as possible to discuss your husband, Steve Dawes.â€ The caller left a number, which Marta promptly forgot. She knew she wouldnâ€™t call the police. Whether Steve was dead or alive, she wouldnâ€™t call.

After packing a few things and transferring all of their joint savings to her household account, Marta locked up the house and left. She drove west, for no particular reason other than the position of the setting sun. She had always dreamed of riding off into the sunset. Tears streaked her face for the first hour, but gave way to the light in her eyes; the light of joy at a future of her choosing.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on July 15, 2012, 08:05:39 PM: Inspiring. :rofl:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 15, 2012, 09:36:48 PM: The longer Steve lay in the Emergency Room, the more anxious he got. It had been hours since his last hit of powdered Oxycontin, and the doctor refused to give him anything stronger than Toradol. Steve felt the familiar symptoms of withdrawal, which mixed with his fear and paranoia. Steve remembered the pillbox in his pants pocket, and he licked his lips. Then he remembered the paramedic had cut off his pants in the ambulance, and he knew his Oxy stash was either lost or found- neither of which was good for him.

Steve was sweating. He could smell his sweat and that strange vestige of sewage from his working days, which had never left him even after years on the disability bandwagon. Sweat ran into his eyes, and ran in rivulets down his arms to his wrists. To make matters worse, he felt like he had to urinate; an uncomfortable feeling of fullness in his bladder. As he wiggled around on the cot, he felt his right wrist slip a little within the plastic handcuff holding him to the cot. Steve looked around furtively, forming a plan in his drug-scrambled but drug-starved mind. It was a simple plan: get out of the restraint and run.

Steve watched the door intently. He could see the police officer out at the nurseâ€™s station, looking up every few seconds to check on his prisoner. When the officer looked away, Steve wiggled and pulled against the cuff. His hand caught the plastic cuff, but Steve pulled harder and his slippery hand pulled free of the restraint. Steve looked up again- the police officer was still at the nurseâ€™s station. Steve slid off the end of the cot and moved toward the door, but he took only two steps before he abruptly discovered two things.

Steve was still tethered to the cot by the Foley catheter, and a second police officer was standing just outside the door.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on July 16, 2012, 01:15:54 PM: OMG, riveting!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Dblhaul on July 16, 2012, 09:52:11 PM: Love it!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 20, 2012, 06:45:08 PM: White light. Cold.

White light and something coldâ€¦no, just cool, moving on his skin. A breeze, maybe.

Steve Dawes tried to make sense of the two things intruding on the blank quiet in his mind. For a while, those two things were his entire world.

White light. Something cool, moving on his skin. Not a bad feeling at all, really. Steve could spend eternity in this white place.

Into the white quiet, two spots of heat, of pain, intruded. Steveâ€™s brow furrowed, faint confusion at the presence of the two spots of heat, of pain.

Steveâ€™s consciousness slowly pushed itself toward the front, adding sensations, then half formed thoughts. Steve heard voices, but he couldnâ€™t make out the words. It seemed like his head was wrapped in wool.

White light and cool skin, and two spots of pain forcing themselves into his white cocoon. Steve tried to figure out the two spots of pain. One was between his legs- what happened to Lil Stevie? he asked himself dimly. The other was on his backside- why does my butt hurt?

Steve told himself, in a dim half-formed way, that he should figure out how the confusing collection of senses added up. He opened his eyes, but he couldnâ€™t focus. It was strange, when his eyes were closed all was white, but when he opened them all was dark. He pondered the mystery for a few seconds, until a memory coalesced in his mind.

Steve remembered jumping off the foot of the Emergency Room cot and running for the door. He recalled an incredible pain between his legs, and turning around to relieve the sudden pain and a pulling sensation. He had seen a police officer, a female police officer, stepping into the doorway as he whirled around. The officer had a gun of some sort in her hand. For Steve, all turned to white light in the next second.

The rookie police officer had just arrived at the ER to stand guard on the prisoner. She knew he had shot himself in the foot, and that EMS had found a pistol and narcotics en route to the hospital. She figured the hole in his foot would slow this suspect down, but she also knew how unpredictable and violent junkies could be when they needed a fix; not as bad as meth freaks, but not to be taken for granted. So, when Steve moved for the foot of the bed, making more noise than he realized, the young officer was ready. She stepped into the doorway, Taser in hand, and prepared to order the suspect to freeze.

In that instant, that officer saw something that would haunt her dreams.

She saw a huge man in a backless hospital gown, flinging himself off the end of the cot and starting to lumber toward her, off-balance. She saw the tubing of the urinary catheter, still hooked to the bag on the bedside, go taut under the gown. She saw the huge man begin to spin back toward the bed, reaching for his groin. She saw the back of the gown fly open, exposing his enormous back and rear end. And she saw, in a small part of her mind, a purple tattoo on the manâ€™s rump. An Indian chief with the letter â€œBâ€ on his face.

While the officerâ€™s power of observation was engaged in one part of her brain, her survival instinct was also engaging a different part. She identified the huge man as a threat, raised the Taser, and fired. The darts hit the spinning man in the backside, right on the Indian chief. Somewhere in the back of her mind the officer heard an instructor say "You shoot where you look", but she didn't have time to follow the thought to its conclusion. The Taser sent a series of electric shocks into the man, who stiffened and fell facedown at the foot of the cart, his backside exposed. The officer felt her heartbeat racing, pounding, and took deep breaths to slow it down. She never took her eyes from Steve, laying on the tile floor. She kept the Taser at the ready.

The other officer and the ER doctor ran to the room. The doctor knelt down and checked Steveâ€™s pulse, and took a second to check the urinary catheter, still anchored to Steve's bladder, the burns on his groin, and the dressing on his foot. A nurse and two paramedics moved Steve onto a backboard. The five of them hoisted Steve back onto the cot; the young officer maintained her Taser at the high ready position. Steve was screaming again, a highpitched wail. The doctor ordered that Steve be sedated; in a few minutes he stopped wailing and seemed calm. It wasnâ€™t as good as a noseful of Oxycontin, but it was better than nothing. Steve nodded off again.

The young officer relaxed, and said to the older officer, "I think I'm gonna need counseling."
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 21, 2012, 03:23:10 PM: Six days later, Steve Dawes had gotten used to life in the medical housing unit at the Sarpy County Correctional Center. Get up in the morning, morning meds, eat breakfast, then roll in to the dayroom and watch TV. He saw the nurse in the morning for the dressing changes and Silvadine burn cream smeared on his genitals- â€œthatâ€™s niceâ€, he had said to the nurse once, but he didnâ€™t respond. Noon meds and lunch, then more TV. Evening meds and supper, then back to his cell until bedtime meds and lights-out.

He had been discharged from the hospital four days before. He had enjoyed the time in the hospital. The spongebaths, food, and TV were his favorite parts; having nurses come when he pushed the buzzer made him feel like a king. The two days he had spent there were like a little spa vacation for Steve.

There were no spongebaths in lockup, but he had spent plenty of time with the psychiatrist when he was first brought in. Try as he may, Steve was unable to convince the psychiatrist that he was the victim of a conspiracy between a former Nebraska football coach, who may also be a big dog who rode a motorcycle and smoked cigars; George W. Bush; Ayn Rand; the Republican Party; the police; and the hospital.

Steve read upside-down as the psychiatrist checked blocks on a form: â€œdanger to selfâ€, â€œdanger to othersâ€, â€œdrug abuse or withdrawalâ€, â€œdelusions or hallucinationsâ€, â€œunable to care for selfâ€, and â€œunable to understand nature and consequencesâ€. Steve yelled at the psychiatrist, â€œYouâ€™re not listening! Youâ€™re in on it with them!â€ The psychiatrist wrote on the form again. Steve couldnâ€™t see what he wrote, but he was sure it wasnâ€™t good.

Steve figured something was going to happen, but didnâ€™t know what or when. He had tried to call Marta, but got only her voice mail message. He left long messages- crying, demanding, pleading messages. After the second day, the phone told him Martaâ€™s voice mailbox was full. Steve thought he could get help from his friends at the Democratic Underground, if only he could get access to the Internet, but the detention officer had told him â€œnoâ€. The officer told him the countyâ€™s Internet filter blocked hate sites, which made Steve hiss like he had steam escaping from some part of him. "I've got my rights! I'm entitled!" He noticed an extra pill in his cup the next time he rolled up to the nurseâ€™s station.

Steve dully watched the TV on the dayroom wall. Sometimes the TV was turned to game shows and soap operas, which Steve mostly ignored. But, sometimes, Fox News was on the screen, which agitated him. The dayroom officer would notice Steveâ€™s changed mood, and report to the nurse; Steve would again receive an additional pill in his cup. He vaguely remembered a movie he had seen about mental patients, where the one guy had a lobotomy, and the other guy smothered him with a pillow. Steve hoped, in a vague sort of way, that he didnâ€™t end up with a lobotomy. â€œBeing smothered would be bad, tooâ€, he said out loud, to no one in particular.

After a few more days, Steve couldnâ€™t really say how many, he was rolled into a room to meet a man in a suit. The man said he was an attorney, and Steve had to prepare for a competency hearing. Steve had trouble understanding what the man was talking about; he didnâ€™t remember hiring a lawyer. â€œDid Marta send you?â€ Steve asked. â€œNo, Mr. Dawes. I was appointed by the court to represent you. The police have been unable to reach your wife. Itâ€™s like she vanished, but the police donâ€™t suspect foul play.â€

Steve began to cry again, although he didnâ€™t know why. Through his sobs, the lawyer heard him say, â€œfranksolichâ€. The lawyer had too much experience with mental patients to ask why the former Nebraska football coach made Steve Dawes cry.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on July 21, 2012, 03:35:01 PM: If this story had a theme song it would be this.

[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-lJZiqZaGA[/youtube]
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on July 23, 2012, 09:59:48 PM: Damn.

This is good, riveting, compelling, a joy to read.

I think I shall share this with people in real life.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 23, 2012, 10:35:51 PM: The attorney explained the process to Steve. He would be held without bond at the medical housing unit until a competency hearing, which would be held in three weeks. Steve was having a hard time remembering what day it was, so â€œthree weeksâ€ made no sense to him. As he ruminated on â€œthree weeks, three weeksâ€, singing it in his head, he figured he would be happy as long as he was fed three times a day, kept getting the little cups of pills, and had the Silvadine cream smeared on his burns. Steve stopped listening to the attorney as he thought about the silky, soft burn cream in his underwearâ€¦

â€œMr. Dawes! I need you to listen!â€ The lawyer brought Steve abruptly back to the matter at hand.

â€œYou must be able to participate in your criminal defense. The doctor will reduce your medication for about a week before the hearing, and you will have to go through another psychiatric evaluation. Itâ€™s important that you cooperate. Iâ€™ll be back to see you before the hearing. Until I talk to you again, donâ€™t talk to the police or tell other inmates anything about your case. Is there anyone you want my paralegal to call?â€

Steve thought for a minute. He felt a small measure of shame at being locked up, and didnâ€™t want his children to see him in such a condition. He thought and thought, and finally said â€œCall Will Pitt. Heâ€™ll know what to do. Maybe he can call the President and get me pardoned.â€

The lawyer sighed, and asked if Steve knew a telephone number for Will Pitt. Steve didnâ€™t know, but remembered that Pitt lived in a bar in Boston, or Baltimore, or Buffalo. The lawyer said that heâ€™d have the paralegal try to locate Steveâ€™s friend. He didnâ€™t expect much success, and he knew better than to tell Steve the President wouldnâ€™t be pardoning him. There are some things a smart lawyer keeps to himself.

Steve had lost interest. He had only three things on his mind: noon meds, Salisbury steak for lunch, and Silvadine cream in his pants.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 23, 2012, 10:36:59 PM: Quote from: franksolich on July 23, 2012, 09:59:48 PM
Damn.

This is good, riveting, compelling, a joy to read.

I think I shall share this with people in real life.

Thanks. It practically writes itself.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on July 24, 2012, 03:58:19 PM: Another fine installment. I'm having a ball reading it!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on July 24, 2012, 04:03:53 PM: "... lived in a bar in Boston"

You made me laugh out loud. :-)
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on July 24, 2012, 04:04:32 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on July 23, 2012, 10:36:59 PM
Thanks. It practically writes itself.

Are you claiming the phenominon of autowriting?
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 27, 2012, 08:55:05 PM: Time had ceased to have any meaning for Steve Dawes inside the Sarpy County Correctional Center. While two weeks passed in the real world, Steve World was a slow-moving blur with a few quickly-forgotten bright spots along the way. Steve liked the routine; he didnâ€™t want it to end. He had kept the wheelchair by pretending he couldnâ€™t walk. The staff didnâ€™t care if he walked or rolled, as long as he was quiet.

Steve didnâ€™t know what medications he was taking, but he could feel their effects after he took them. The red pills were his favorite; he thought they like were the Qualuudes he had heard so much about when he was young. The black and yellow capsules were good, too; he could only focus on one thing at a time after he took them. At night, the sleeping pills blanked out his mind, so strong that he had awakened more than one morning with wet pants because he hadnâ€™t realized his bladder was full. Aside from causing the occasional accident, his medications were mighty good.

But, like all good things, Steveâ€™s Soma holiday was coming to an end. Just as the lawyer had told him, the nurse changed his pills. The red pills were replaced by small white pills. Steve felt the change right away. The white pills made Steve feel like he was outside of his body, and everything he saw or heard seemed far away. Steve spent hours testing the new sensations. The yellow and black capsules reminded Steve of bumblebees, so he spent an entire morning saying â€œbummmmble-bees, bummmmble-beesâ€, over and over. Another dose of the white pills at lunchtime reduced Steve to making the sound of the letter â€œbâ€ continuously, because it tickled his lips to purse them and make the sound. He giggled while he made the â€œbâ€ sound.

The day room detention officer noticed Steve sitting in the corner drooling and giggling, and pointed Steve out to the nurse. The Nurse called the staff psychiatrist, who ordered the white pills be replaced with a liquid. Steveâ€™s first dose of the liquid was at bedtime. He had a very vivid dream about Jan Michael Vincent and Ernest Borgnine dancing the can-can with a line of redheads, a cigar-smoking bulldog riding a blue seahorse, a golf-playing football coach, and pie- but it all made sense to him at the time.

The next afternoon, the liquid medicine was working with the bumblebees, giving Steve surreal focus on one thing at a time to the exclusion of the rest of the world. He was sitting in front of the TV. The dayroom officer had turned it to the Discovery Channel, so he could watch â€œShark Weekâ€. The network showed program after program about sharks: sharks swimming, sharks hunting, sharks mating, and sharks attacking surfers and SCUBA divers. As Steve watched, he became the surfer, the SCUBA diver, and even the fish and sea lions, knowing that he could not escape the relentless hunters of the deep. He became more and more frightened, but he couldnâ€™t get away from the sharks because the wheels were locked on his wheelchair.

The most frightening show in all of Shark Week was â€œNatureâ€™s Perfect Predatorâ€, with underwater footage of Great White Sharks hunting everything from fish to elephant seals. Steve watched, never looking away. He was the elephant seal in the water, fearing for his life, hoping the Great Whites didnâ€™t notice him.

On the screen, a shark turned and swam in for the kill on a bull elephant seal. Steve saw the shark open its mouth, showing hundreds of teeth, and move in to eat him. He screamed â€œShark, shark!â€ with a horrified wail, and pitched backward out of the wheelchair onto the floor. He got to his feet and ran, still screaming, limping on his wounded foot, and flailing his arms.

The dayroom detention officer had no idea Steve was being attacked by a Great White Shark, but it didnâ€™t matter to him. He quickly subdued Steve, who continued to scream â€œShark!â€ The dayroom officer noticed an unmistakable odor, and realized Steve had wet himself again. The nurse injected Steve with a sedative, and he was moved to his bed. He was weeping.

The dayroom officer realized he still smelled Steveâ€™s urine, and went to the locker room to shower and change. He told himself he should find a new career. â€œRodeo clowns have it pretty goodâ€, he thought, and wondered if the GI Bill would pay for rodeo clown school. They did call it "college", after all.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on July 27, 2012, 09:54:13 PM: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao:
hi5......Steve will be having nightmares for a month about sharks!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on July 27, 2012, 10:01:05 PM: :rotf:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 28, 2012, 11:02:11 PM: (http://i1055.photobucket.com/albums/s511/electstevedawes/Loose%20ends/bugs2.gif)

Steve is a little discombobulated right now.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Atomic Lib Smasher on July 29, 2012, 12:00:48 AM: This is friggin' comedic gold. I know very little about some of these new dummies and haven't been on here in a while, but it still makes me come close to pissing myself laughing. Good stuff, Big Dog. :-)
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on July 29, 2012, 06:55:19 AM: This is freaking awesome! Good job. I await the book. :wink:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on July 29, 2012, 07:12:59 AM: Quote from: Randy on July 29, 2012, 06:55:19 AM
This is freaking awesome! Good job. I await the book. :wink:
I wonder if Big Dog will autograph it for us!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on July 30, 2012, 12:03:16 PM: Quote from: Randy on July 29, 2012, 06:55:19 AM
This is freaking awesome! Good job. I await the book. :wink:

I think it would make a good replacement for the Breaking Bad series.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: J. M. Pyne on July 30, 2012, 12:50:49 PM: Fantastic job. I check a couple of times a day for the next chapter.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on July 30, 2012, 02:52:09 PM: Quote from: Bad Dog on July 30, 2012, 12:03:16 PM
I think it would make a good replacement for the Breaking Bad series.

Or Tales From the Darkside :rotf:

Introduction to DUmmies: a compendium of short stories.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on July 30, 2012, 10:21:43 PM: I think Steve's going to need a bigger boat,LOL.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on July 31, 2012, 07:14:12 AM: Dear Big Dog:

I am concerned that the staff at the asylum puts Shark Week on the TV. I think it is terribly irresponsible, and they should stick to The Price is Right and One Life to Live. Things of that nature.

Yours Truly, etc.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on July 31, 2012, 09:16:18 PM: For the next few days, the psychiatrist changed medications and doses, seeking the combination which would return Steve to reality, yet keep him docile. Steveâ€™s mind whipsawed from paranoia, to hallucinations, to brief moments of dark lucidity.

One day, Steve dreamed of dancing lobsters, which he ate like the Cookie Monster. He thought about the Cookie Monsterâ€™s blue neckbeard, and wished his neckbeard was blue, too. Then he remembered Marta, his children, and his granddaughter, Madison. Steve wondered why they hadnâ€™t come to see him, and he began to weep. He wanted to see Madison more than anything. If only he could get out of the medical housing unit, he would be able to see her. But, the part of Steveâ€™s brain that still had a nodding acquaintance with reality said, â€œThey won't let you out of here anytime soon.â€

Then, one word swam to the surface of Steveâ€™s mind and burst like a bubble in a tar pit.

Escape.

The more Steve thought about it, the more it made sense. If the psychiatrist found him competent, he would be transferred to the real jail, and then to the penitentiary. Steve knew he wouldnâ€™t like the penitentiary, with the striped suits and leg irons, and those mean guards with shotguns riding horses while the inmates broke rocks on the side of a road and were forced to sing old-timey songs. Steve wouldnâ€™t mind if he had to work in the fields; he figured he could eat as much as he wanted and then fake another neck injury. But, Steve was sure the good jobs in the fields went to the wardenâ€™s favorites, and not to a Socialist agitator like him. So, he needed to escape, but how?

Steve looked around the medical housing unit. He knew he couldnâ€™t break down a door or break a window, nor would it work to try to crawl out an air duct. He had seen a movie once where a kid had been beamed from one place to another by a television camera of some sort, but only Willy Wonka owned one of those, and he wasnâ€™t locked up with Steve. Digging a tunnel was out, as the inmates were fed with plastic spoons and forks. Steve decided to come up with a plan later. He had plenty of time for that.

Steve remembered from all the old movies and TV shows he had seen that a good escape required one thing: accomplices. After all, Colonel Hogan didnâ€™t outsmart Colonel Klink all by himself. He had the help of that English guy, and that French guy, and the other guys. Steve looked around the dayroom to see if there were any Englishmen or Frenchmen in lockup with him. He saw none, but he did see a young man sitting at a table, staring at him intently. Steve rolled the wheelchair over to the table.

â€œWhat are you in for, kid?â€

â€œIâ€™m a good boyâ€, the young man replied, as he looked into Steveâ€™s eyes.

â€œIâ€™m Steve Dawes. I ran for city council once. Would have won, tooâ€¦â€

â€œIâ€™m a good boy.â€ The young man didnâ€™t break eye contact with Steve, which made him uncomfortable at the same time as it started to arouse him.

â€œUmm, yeah.â€ Steve figured he could get some use out of the young man, one way or the other, and he wouldnâ€™t say anything. Steve told himself, â€œHeâ€™s the perfect accomplice!â€ He was sure Colonel Hogan and the Frenchman had the same kind of relationship. just like Colonel Klink and Sergeant Schultz. Scoobie Doo and Shaggy, too, he told himself.

â€œIâ€™ll call you Goodboy. Youâ€™re gonna have to grow a neckbeard if you want to hang with me.â€

Goodboy said nothing, but looked down at the table and moved a little closer to Steve.

And with that, the Neckbeard Gang was born.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on July 31, 2012, 09:18:12 PM: Damn, this is good.

Awesome.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on July 31, 2012, 09:19:37 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on July 31, 2012, 09:16:18 PM
the Neckbeard Gang
bwahahahaha :rofl:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on July 31, 2012, 09:20:58 PM: Keep in mind goodboy, the sensitive lad, the piano-playing primitive on Skins's island, is a short one.

He even made the late red round one look tall, standing beside him.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on July 31, 2012, 09:22:20 PM: Pure literary gold!!! Loved the dancing lobsters!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on August 02, 2012, 12:14:25 PM: The vague homosexual overtones are especially hilarious.

Quote
the part of Steveâ€™s brain that still had a nodding acquaintance with reality
:rofl: That was good.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on August 02, 2012, 05:48:36 PM: The only thing missing is a good tag line.

"Same med time, Same med channel."
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 03, 2012, 08:52:38 PM: Steve Dawes was enjoying the life of a gang leader. He had never been in a real position of leadership in his life or in his family, so the experience was new to him. He was flattered by Goodboyâ€™s devotion, and his readiness to obey Steveâ€™s whims without a secondâ€™s hesitation. Steve was eating half of Goodboyâ€™s food at each meal, keeping warm with Goodboyâ€™s blanket in addition to his own at night, and enjoying Goodboyâ€™s wheelchair chauffeur service anytime he wanted. Steve liked the shared showers and Goodboy's back rubs, too; he forgot about Marta, mostly. Life was good.

Steveâ€™s moods had leveled with the medications. Most of the time, he was lucid and aware of his situation. He knew he was being held for psychiatric evaluation prior to a bond hearing, for seven charges of felony assault, use of a firearm to commit a felony, making a terroristic threat, and assorted parking violations related to the car he had left on the curb at Bearâ€™s Bar. His court appointed attorney had explained to him that he must attend a competency hearing in three days, and if he was found competent he could petition the court for bond. His attorney had also explained that if he was found incompetent, he would be held in the medical housing unit for thirty days until a second hearing. Steve knew his only chance lay in escape, and that is where the Neckbeard Gang would come in.

As he figured it, Steveâ€™s gang had only one problem: Goodboy was the only member. Fancying himself a great guerrilla leader and union organizer in the vein of Che' Guevera or Jimmy Hoffa, Steve talked to the other inmates and tried to convince them of the inevitable victory of the proletariat inmates over their bourgeois oppressors. For the most part, Steve was met by blank stares, but a few inmates moved over to his table in the dayroom, which Steve read as small victories. He didnâ€™t notice, or chose to ignore, that the inmates who moved to his table had the same blank stare.

In the span of two days, the Neckbeard Gang had six members. Goodboy was slowly growing his neckbeard, if four hairs on the underside of his chin could be called a â€œneckbeardâ€. The other inmates followed Goodboyâ€™s example, shaving their faces with the battery powered shaver and leaving the hair on their necks. The detention officers and nurses quickly noted the new fashion, and notified the Sheriffâ€™s Department gang unit. The gang specialists could find no record of a prison gang made up of mental detainees who didnâ€™t shave their necks. They seemed harmless, just sitting around one table in the dayroom, so the gang unit reported that they were probably not a security risk.

The day before the competency hearing, a new inmate moved into the medical housing unit. Steve felt he knew this prisoner, who was short and stocky with stubby legs and straggly hair. The new prisoner was dressed in a blue scrub shirt and white scrub pants, which niggled at a spot in the back of Steveâ€™s head. He was sure he recognized this new prisoner, so he sent Goodboy to find out more. â€œBe subtleâ€, Steve told him. â€œIâ€™m a good boyâ€, Goodboy replied, and walked across the dayroom.

Ten seconds later, Goodboy returned, leading the new prisoner by the hand. Steve sighed and said â€œI said to be subtleâ€.

â€œIâ€™m a good boyâ€.

â€œYes, I knowâ€. He noticed the new prisoner had the potential for a fine neckbeard.

â€œIâ€™m Steve Dawesâ€, he said by way of introduction.

â€œSuffice it to say, I knew that. Omaha Steve is well known in certain circlesâ€, the mysterious stranger replied. Steve couldnâ€™t place the accent, but his mind simultaneously volunteered Speedy Gonzales, Boris Badinoff, and Bela Lugosi. Maybe equal parts of each, in a weird verbal stew.

â€œDo I know you?â€

â€œOh, da, you know me, Steve Dawes.â€

The realization that he did recognize the stranger hit Steve like Martaâ€™s rolling pin.

â€œYouâ€™re Napoleon Bonaparte!â€

â€œNo.â€

â€œYoda? Danny DeVito? Grover? The Taco Bell Dog?â€

â€œNo! I am Nadin. Iâ€™m here to help you escape,â€ the stranger said in the same guttural croak.

â€œHow did you know I was here?â€ Steve asked, bewilderment showing on his face.

â€œSuffice it to say, when you didnâ€™t post on Democratic Underground for a few days, I knew the Conservative conspiracy was underway, and you had to be a political prisoner. And, of course, I was right.â€

Steve asked, â€œHow did you find me here?â€

â€œDonâ€™t inquire into the ways of the Force,â€ Nadin said menacingly. â€œIâ€™ll ignore you.â€

Something else occurred to Steve. â€œThis is a males-only unit. How did you get in?â€

Nadin told him. â€œWhen they picked me up, they didnâ€™t ask and I didnâ€™t tell.â€ That made sense to Steve. No matter how closely he looked, he could not find a single secondary sexual characteristic he could identify as female.

â€œWhen they picked you up?â€

â€œDa. I allowed myself to be arrested by the local police. I packed my car with canned milk, stuck the 10 inch knife into my boot, grabbed the Geiger counter and the Good Rig, and came to your rescue.â€

Steve felt some apprehension. He was worried that Nadin would take over the Neckbeard Gang, his gang, and he didnâ€™t want that to happen.

â€œIâ€™ll get you out of here, Steve. Leave it to me,â€ Nadin said, as she patted his hand.

Goodboy saw the stranger holding hands with his Steve, and his face darkened.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on August 03, 2012, 09:03:09 PM: more literary gold!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on August 03, 2012, 09:07:57 PM: Hehehehe I like where this is going. Good job.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: diesel driver on August 04, 2012, 02:50:01 AM: More! More! This is FUnnie!

:clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 04, 2012, 05:14:58 AM: This is by far the best work that's been in the DUmpster all year long.

Sparkling, effervescent, lively, witty, and utterly credible.

Congratulations, Big Dog!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on August 04, 2012, 02:58:24 PM: I just knew the Nadster would help Steve. This is addictive.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 05, 2012, 10:44:46 PM: Quote from: Bad Dog on July 24, 2012, 04:04:32 PM
Are you claiming the phenominon of autowriting?

No. It's in the script, and it follows the arc. Steve, Goodboy, Nads, and the whole gang will cross the Rubicon soon, suffice it to say.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on August 06, 2012, 10:58:30 AM: :rofl: What great stuff! The plot thickens. Suspense is building. What could possibly happen?
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on August 06, 2012, 11:52:13 AM: You never know. Maybe some guy in a white suit and wearing an eyepatch named "Archangel" will visit Steve in the ward and tell him about how the Govertnment is sending Black helicopters after him.

(http://images.wikia.com/airwolf/images/e/ec/Alex-cord-as-michael-coldsmith-briggs-iii-in-airwolf.jpg)
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: commonguymd on August 06, 2012, 02:46:51 PM: His first day on the job after an hour added to the terrible summer.

His mom "past" away.

I am sure he meant passed, but I will let that slide.

http://www.democraticunderground.com/10021082771
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 06, 2012, 03:46:30 PM: This temporarily moved to the Sandhills forum until a decent interval of mourning has passed.

I dunno, maybe for ten days or two weeks.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on August 06, 2012, 03:50:13 PM: nadin, cousin to Pat, the androgynous one.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Eupher on August 06, 2012, 04:46:37 PM: Holy shit, I'm gonna have to spend some time in the DUmpster in order to catch wonderful stuff like this. I don't know Steve Dawes, but I'm assuming he's a particularly offensive primitive. And Nadin - the term I've seen before, but until now I had no idea it was an androgynous something-or-other.

Fascinating stuff, BD. Well done!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 06, 2012, 07:42:26 PM: Steve looked down at his hand, still under Nadinâ€™s. Her stubby fingers barely covered the back of his hand. Steve looked at her knuckles, with more hair than his, for a minute. He remembered what Marta had said to him on their wedding night: "Any port in a storm, I guess." Then he looked up at her and asked, â€œWhat do you have in mind?â€

Nadin replied, â€œI have been working on a plan. We will cross the Rubicon together.â€ Steve thought to himself that he wasnâ€™t asking Nadin about a plan to cross the Rubicon, but something more personal and immediate. He was sure Goodboy would stand watch at his door for a few minutes, and a few minutes were all he needed.

Nadin didnâ€™t see the look in Steveâ€™s eyes. She was looking off into space, seeing the plan in her mind. â€œThink about this, dollink. What makes us different from the guards?â€

Steve grunted and shrugged his shoulders.

â€œClothes,â€ Nadin said. â€œWe are all the 99 percent, but the guards wear guard clothes, and we wear prisoner clothes. The guards watch us because we are wearing prisoner clothes. They watch out for each other because they are wearing guard clothes. If weâ€™re not wearing prisoner clothes, and weâ€™re not wearing guard clothes, they wonâ€™t see us!â€

Steve stared at her.

â€œWeâ€™ll take off all our clothes, and the guards wonâ€™t know if weâ€™re inmates or guards. Yes, weâ€™ll walk right out of here.â€

Steveâ€™s face lit up like a curly-bulb; slowly illuminating to a dull glow. For some reason, perhaps a residual of the powerful psychotropic drugs he had been taking for the past month, Nadinâ€™s plan made sense to Steve. He remembered the times he had pulled back the curtains to his bedroom and pranced around the room naked, in the hopes the high school girl next door would see him, but she never had. He concluded that Nadin was right; nudity equaled invisibility.

â€œWhen should we do it?â€ Steve asked, as he wiggled his eyebrows.

â€œDuring the day, when the guards are the busiest. They wonâ€™t even see us.â€

Steve was disappointed that Nadin was not noticing his double entendres. â€œWhat do I have to do, put on a Marvin Gaye album?â€ he asked himself. But she had not taken her hand away; a fact also noticed by Goodboy. Neither Steve nor Nadin saw the pain and anger in Goodboy's eyes.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on August 07, 2012, 01:31:34 AM: The Emperor's New Clothes.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 07, 2012, 06:18:46 AM: Quote from: obumazombie on August 07, 2012, 01:31:34 AM
The Emperor's New Clothes.

(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/07/Emperor_Penguin_Manchot_empereur.jpg/220px-Emperor_Penguin_Manchot_empereur.jpg)
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on August 07, 2012, 11:19:11 AM: Comedy gold!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on August 07, 2012, 02:47:50 PM: It writes itself I bet. You could make a good movie out of this.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on August 07, 2012, 09:14:27 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on August 07, 2012, 06:18:46 AM
(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/07/Emperor_Penguin_Manchot_empereur.jpg/220px-Emperor_Penguin_Manchot_empereur.jpg)
Is that a neckbeard I see ?
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:18:00 PM: Quote from: obumazombie on August 07, 2012, 09:14:27 PM
Is that a neckbeard I see ?

Why, yes. It is.

:-)
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:23:00 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:18:00 PM
Why, yes. It is.

:-)

I came rushing over after I saw you had posted. You can imagine my abject disappointment that it wasn't another installment. I feel partially hydrogenated.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:26:17 PM: Quote from: Bad Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:23:00 PM
I came rushing over after I saw you had posted. You can imagine my abject disappointment that it wasn't another installment. I feel partially hydrogenated.

Sorry for the false alarm. I was busy this evening, packing for the Brew Tour.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:53:56 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:26:17 PM
Sorry for the false alarm. I was busy this evening, packing for the Brew Tour.

It's like waiting for the secret decoder ring to come in the mail. Except, no dissapointment when it arrives.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Eupher on August 08, 2012, 08:56:43 AM: Quote from: Bad Dog on August 07, 2012, 09:53:56 PM
It's like waiting for the secret decoder ring to come in the mail. Except, no dissapointment when it arrives.

Yeah. I was always pissed off at that asswipe in Battle Creek, Michigan, who clearly failed to properly consult my box tops and dutifully filled-out form, and sent me some bullshit I wasn't even thinking of. :mad:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on August 08, 2012, 01:19:56 PM: Quote from: Karin on August 06, 2012, 10:58:30 AM
What could possibly happen?

I never imagined that! Nakedness equals invisibility! :rofl: Been busy today, so was waiting all day for a break to read the chapter in peace and quiet.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on August 08, 2012, 02:58:34 PM: Quote from: Karin on August 08, 2012, 01:19:56 PM
I never imagined that! Nakedness equals invisibility! :rofl: Been busy today, so was waiting all day for a break to read the chapter in peace and quiet.
You never read "The Emperor's New Clothes" ?
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 11, 2012, 04:58:55 AM: ***** ANNNOUNCEMENT FROM franksolich *****

***** ANNNOUNCEMENT FROM franksolich *****

***** ANNNOUNCEMENT FROM franksolich *****

Since a decent interval for mourning has now passed, and the big guy back in his usual form on Skins's island, this story, and any other mention of the big guy in the DUmpster, may resume.

Carry on.

For those who are interested, during the interregnum, many members of conservativecave expressed their heartfelt sorrow for the big guy's mother of sacred memory, and their sincere condolences and best wishes to the big guy's family, in this thread:

http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,76290.0.html
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Skul on August 11, 2012, 08:24:13 AM: I, also noticed a new up-tick in the meaningless posts by the neckbeard.
As usual, most are all copy/pastes of things pulled from yewnyawn releases and liberal sources.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on August 11, 2012, 12:48:13 PM: Quote from: franksolich on August 11, 2012, 04:58:55 AM
***** ANNNOUNCEMENT FROM franksolich *****

***** ANNNOUNCEMENT FROM franksolich *****

***** ANNNOUNCEMENT FROM franksolich *****

Since a decent interval for mourning has now passed, and the big guy back in his usual form on Skins's island, this story, and any other mention of the big guy in the DUmpster, may resume.

Carry on.

For those who are interested, during the interregnum, many members of conservativecave expressed their heartfelt sorrow for the big guy's mother of sacred memory, and their sincere condolences and best wishes to the big guy's family, in this thread:

http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,76290.0.html

Thanks Frank, I knew there had to be an excellent reason that something destined to be a Cave classic had vanished. Now the series can resume, much to the chagrin of some visitors. :rotf:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 11, 2012, 12:59:27 PM: Quote from: Randy on August 11, 2012, 12:48:13 PM
Thanks Frank, I knew there had to be an excellent reason that something destined to be a Cave classic had vanished. Now the series can resume, much to the chagrin of some visitors. :rotf:

I'd yanked it about 2:30 p.m. central time on Monday, only minutes after the big guy had informed Freeper's mole of the sad event, but it wasn't anything I could announce in good taste, so I just let it be.

Although a reminder--if something disappears, ask (via personal message), and you'll be told where it's at.

While it was stashed away, apparently a new chapter was added, and some comments.

Again, a reminder that if anyone's interested in reading or adding a comment, there's a thread here in which members of conservativecave express their condolences and sympathy and good wishes.

http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,76290.0.html
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 15, 2012, 07:21:41 PM: â€œWe take off our clothes and walk out of the jailhouse. It will be just like the Great Sneaking In of 1962, when President Eisenhower fooled the Chinese by dropping five hundred thousand naked SEALS into North Vietnam, naked,â€ Nadin said.

Steve had never heard of such a thing, but he figured a trained historian would know things he had never heard of. â€œSeals? Like a furry mammal that balances balls on its nose?â€

â€œOf course, dollink. Suffice it to say, I have experience in that area.â€

Steve was beginning to understand. â€œWeâ€™ll watch for the door to the medical housing unit to open, then take off our clothes and walk right out to freedom. Just like Johnny Depp did in Public Enemies!â€

Nadin replied, â€œThat was a mildly fictional account of one of my experiences in a previous life.â€

Steve was happy that Skinner had sent Nadin to rescue him. â€œDo we need to camouflage ourselves, or shave our bodies, or cover ourselves with oil?â€

â€œWe donâ€™t need to, but we can if it would make you feel better, dollink.â€

Goodboy made a last attempt to reassert himself as Steveâ€™s good right hand. â€œIâ€™m a good boy! Iâ€™m a good boy!â€ he shouted, with extra emphasis on the last two words of each sentence. The detention officers and nurse turned to look at him.

Steve said, with a hiss in his voice, â€œGoodboy, pipe down. Youâ€™ll ruin everything.â€ Goodboy, crushed, hung his head and quickly ran to his cell. He didnâ€™t want to give Nadin the satisfaction of seeing his tears.

â€œGood, heâ€™s gone,â€ Nadin said. â€œI can tell you the rest of my plan. The guards need a distraction, and weâ€™ll give them Goodboy. Weâ€™ll have all of the Neckbeard Gang save their evening medications, and give them to Goodboy tomorrow after breakfast. The guards will be busy watching him. Add that to our invisibility, and we are unstoppable!â€

The plan made sense to Steve; more importantly, he was happy for an opportunity to get rid of Goodboy. Steve was tired of him, and ready for a change.

Steve gave the order, and the Neckbeard Gang palmed their evening and bedtime pills, and turned them over to Steve. Back in his cell, Steve looked at the cup full of tablets and capsules with disappointment. He saw no Oxycontin in the mix, not a single tablet. He crushed the medications and poured the powder into a half-empty bottle of Mountain Dew, left over from a trip to the jailhouse commissary he had made with Goodboy the day before. The drug cocktail was invisible in the bottle of yellow soda.

Steve thought he would be unable to sleep that night, but he was wrong.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 15, 2012, 07:23:38 PM: I knew you were holding a chapter back, sir, waiting for a decent interval to pass.

This is great!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on August 15, 2012, 08:05:47 PM: Awesome per usual!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 15, 2012, 09:16:02 PM: Steve Dawes slept, his neckbeard flapping with each ragged snore. Goodboy sat on the cot in the next cell, wide awake and sobbing silently, listening to Steve gasp and snort.

Goodboy remembered Andyâ€™s last words to him, whispered in the night so long ago, â€œYouâ€™re a good boyâ€. â€œI am a good boyâ€, he had replied eagerly. Since Andy had died, he had not found a man he could love. Sure, he had plenty of men who had promised to love him, but they had all hurt him in the end.

Like Andy, Steve was doughy and soft. Goodboy liked the doughiness most of all. But where Andy and those other men had promised to love him, Steve had been different. Steve never promised anything, and Goodboy knew that meant he would never break a promise. Goodboy had enjoyed feeling needed, pushing Steveâ€™s wheelchair around the dayroom and giving him special backrubs.

And then she came along. Her, with the stringy hair, beady eyes, and coat of grey body hair covering her from her neckbeard to the backs of her knuckles. Goodboy imagined a hundred ways to hurt her; crushing her with an African elephant, crushing her with an Indian elephant, crushing her with a hippopotamus, crushing her with a sumo wrestler- anything but crushing her with a bull elephant seal, for he thought of Steve as his bull elephant seal. Each mental movie made him smile a little through the tears, but he knew it was only wishful thinking, since there was not an elephant or a sumo wrestler to be found.

As he sat with thoughts of veterinary homicide on his mind, Goodboy felt the call of nature. He stood up, and knocked an empty Mountain Dew bottle to the floor. Goodboy had saved the bottle, a memento of his visit to the jailhouse commissary with Steve the day before she came. That happy time seemed a million years ago to Goodboy. He picked up the bottle and looked at it for a long moment. He knew what to do; he would make Steve hate her, and heâ€™d come back to Goodboy with open arms. They would escape together, leaving the awful troll behind.

After relieving himself, Goodboy hid the Mountain Dew bottle, now half filled with urine, under the thin mattress on his cot. He sat on the cot, watching the door to his cell warily, and said to himself, â€œIâ€™m a good boyâ€. His voice was cold.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 15, 2012, 09:18:21 PM: That's a good recapitulation of the sensitive lad, the piano-playing primitive "goodboy," whom we all got to know, ah, rather well during poor stupid Beth's stupid scam.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on August 15, 2012, 09:20:02 PM: The suspense is killing me!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on August 15, 2012, 09:21:27 PM: oh my goodness :rotf: :rofl: :lmao:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Dblhaul on August 15, 2012, 10:18:33 PM: bravo! :yahoo:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on August 15, 2012, 10:52:11 PM: Most enjoyable, thanks BD.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on August 16, 2012, 10:48:48 AM: I love this story.

Great job on the 2fer!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on August 16, 2012, 03:46:24 PM: And of course you all know you can't have an escape without some cool theme music.
[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=borbm2f6k_Y[/youtube]
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on August 16, 2012, 03:52:06 PM: At the word "hippopotamus," I burst out laughing out loud. :lmao:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on August 16, 2012, 04:17:14 PM: Quote from: Airwolf on August 16, 2012, 03:46:24 PM
And of course you all know you can't have an escape without some cool theme music.
[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=borbm2f6k_Y[/youtube]

They used to play that during class change when I was in High School. I wonder what they were trying to tell us? :rotf: :rofl:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 19, 2012, 09:26:23 PM: Morning light hit Steveâ€™s sleeping face. He snorted and grimaced, passed wind noisily, and stirred on the cot. The loud click of the electric lock on his cell door intruded into his brain, reminding him that this was the day of his escape from the medical holding unit. The door creaked on its hinges, and Goodboy entered the cell. Steve mumbled incoherently at Goodboy, who deduced that Steve wanted to be rolled to the latrine.

Goodboy left Steve on the toilet and returned to the cell. He took the Mountain Dew bottle filled with medication, and hid it in his own cell with the bottle of urine. He saw Nadin leave the shower room and return the electric shaver to the nurseâ€™s station. Nadin went into the latrine, and a moment later pushed Steve to the nurseâ€™s station, whispering as she rolled him along.

Goodboy grabbed one of the Mountain Dew bottles, and realized that he couldnâ€™t tell which bottle contained his urine. He opened the bottle and sniffed. It didnâ€™t smell like his urine, so he put it back under his mattress. He slipped into Steveâ€™s cell and put the other bottle in the hiding place under Steveâ€™s mattress, then returned to the dayroom.

Steve was still in the shower room with Nadin. Goodboy muttered to himself, â€œIâ€™m a good boy, Iâ€™m a good boyâ€, as he thought about Steve cheating on him with the androgynous dwarf. He grew more agitated, looking around the dayroom for something, anything, he could break to make himself feel better.

The dayroom detention officer noticed Goodboyâ€™s agitation, and notified the nurse. The psychiatrist had left standing orders for strong sedatives, so the nurse called Goodboy over for an extra dose. The nurse offered the young man the pill cup and a bottle of Mountain Dew to wash it down; the nurse knew how much the Neckbeards liked their Mountain Dew.

Goodboy didnâ€™t want to take the pills, but he didnâ€™t want to be forced into taking them either, so he poured the sedative tablets from the paper cup into his mouth, and raised the bottle to his lips. The nurse didnâ€™t notice that he washed the tablets back into the soda bottle, instead of swallowing them. He smiled at the nurse, said â€œIâ€™m a good boyâ€, and shuffled back into the dayroom.

Steve and Nadin were sitting at the table of the dayroom. Nadin watched Goodboy closely, as Steve looked furtively around the room. Nadin noticed the bottle of Mountain Dew in Goodboyâ€™s hand, and asked him, â€œCan I have some of your soda?â€ Goodboy held the bottle close, refusing to share the soda with her. He ducked his head and raced to his cell.

Nadin waddled to Goodboyâ€™s cell, stopping in Steveâ€™s cell along the way to grab the bottle of Mountain Dew hidden there. When she entered Goodboyâ€™s cell, her face was contorted with an approximation of concern. â€œGoodboyâ€, she said. â€œI am worried about you, dollink. Whatâ€™s wrong?â€

â€œIâ€™m a good boy!â€ he growled.

â€œI know you are, I know you are. Look, I brought you a Mountain Dew.â€ Nadin waved the bottle from Steveâ€™s room. â€œCan we trade?â€

Goodboy thought for a second, and held out the bottle of soda in his hand. Nadin smiled faintly and traded bottles with him. Goodboy offered a second bottle and said plaintively, â€œIâ€™m a good boy?â€ Nadin took the second bottle and left the cell.

Back in the dayroom, Nadin handed a Mountain Dew bottle to Steve. His mouth was dry, so he sipped on the soda, which was warm and flat. He didnâ€™t mind. Nadin drank deeply from the other bottle of Mountain Dew, which was cold and bubbly.

Nadin said, â€œWhen Goodboy reacts to the medication, we take off all our clothes and walk to the big door at the end of the hall. The guards will open the door to come in and check on him, and weâ€™ll walk right out past them!â€

Steve scowled and said, â€œBut Iâ€™m in a wheelchair. I canâ€™t walk.â€

Nadin replied, â€œThatâ€™s all right, dollink. The other members of the Neckbeard Gang will carry you out on their backs, like beasts of burden.â€ To Steve, it was brilliant.

As he and Nadin waited, Steve began to feel strange. He was simultaneously sleepy and jumpy, and the room around him started to move far away. He looked at Nadin, whose eyelids were starting to droop.

Nadin forgot that her plan required Goodboy to distract the guards with a drug reaction. She slurred at Steve, â€œLetâ€™s go, dollink!â€, stood up, and removed her clothes, standing before Steve completely nude. Steve saw, or thought he saw, her body completely covered with grey fur, except for a two inch wide patch from her navel to her pubis.

â€œWhassat?â€ he asked, pointing at her crotch.

â€œItâ€™s my reverse Brazilian, dollink! Donâ€™t you love it? It's the latest thing, south of the border!â€ Steve realized that she had used a double entendre, but didn't know if it was by accident or design. He thought blurrily about her attempt to shave him earlier, resulting in nothing but the removal of his left eyebrow and a patch of neckbeard. He shrugged and rolled out of the chair, pulling at his clothes.

Nadin was herding the naked members of the Neckbeard Gang into a raft-shaped mass on the floor. Steve lay on them, as Nadin tried like a drunken Border Collie to guide them toward the exit door. Steve thought it was odd that she was stumbling and yipping behind the Neckbeard Gang, but she was succeeding in moving them.

The dayroom officer and nurse looked on, unable to figure out what was happening or how to react to it. The few seconds of astonishment allowed the mass of naked Neckbeards to move toward the door like a millipede carrying a turtle.

Just then, the door opened. Steve felt Nadinâ€™s hand on his, pulling him. He rolled onto one knee, stood unsteadily, and lumbered through the door into a carpeted, paneled room with an American flag on the wall, a table, and chairs. He recognized his attorney standing just inside the doorway, with two deputies. He didnâ€™t know who the other people were, but they were wearing suits.

The naked escapees and the deputies looked at each other. The first person to break the stunned silence was Steveâ€™s attorney, who said, â€œMr. Dawes, it is time for your competency hearingâ€.

Steve Dawes blacked out and fell to the floor. Nadin curled up to him, quickly falling asleep. The deputies looked at each other, shrugged, and covered the escapees with a blanket. The judge, the prosecutor, and Steveâ€™s attorney looked on.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on August 19, 2012, 10:16:58 PM: oh shazbut, so much for the escape idea!! :lmao:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on August 20, 2012, 10:22:37 AM: HAHAHAHA the best laid plans ect ect. :cheersmate:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Airwolf on August 20, 2012, 12:04:10 PM: Oh Damn,LOL.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: diesel driver on August 23, 2012, 08:22:42 PM: :ohsnap:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 25, 2012, 09:39:21 PM: Steve Dawes opened his eyes slowly. He did not know where he was, or how long he had been unconscious. He remembered being sprawled out on a raft of naked men, and he remembered Nadinâ€™s reverse Brazilian. He didnâ€™t remember much else.

After a few minutes, Steve looked around the room. He saw a heart monitor, oxygen equipment, and a crash cart. He thought he was back in the hospital, until he saw two Sarpy County detention officers in the hall outside the open door. Steve told himself, â€œI guess we didnâ€™t escape after allâ€. He wondered what had happened to Nadin.

Steve saw a nurse walking toward his room. He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. The nurse began to take his blood pressure, and said to Steve, â€œI see youâ€™re awake, Mr. Dawes.â€

Steve sighed, opened his eyes again, and slurred, â€œHow did you know?â€

â€œYou stopped gasping and snoring about ten minutes ago, and we heard you pass wind all the way across the hall at the nurseâ€™s station.â€

Steve was beyond being embarrassed, by a decade or more.

â€œWhat happened to Nadin?â€ he asked.

â€œWho?â€

â€œNadin. The woman who was in here with me,â€ Steve replied.

The nurse said, â€œOh, right. Funny thing, she was in here for three days, and we didnâ€™t know she was a woman. That never happened before. We had to do a blood test to confirm that she is a biological female, and she was moved to the womenâ€™s unit.â€

A sheriffâ€™s deputy with gold bars on his collar joined the nurse beside Steveâ€™s bed. â€œMr. Dawes, I have to ask you some questions. You have the right to remain silent,â€ the deputy read the Miranda warning to Steve. â€œHaving been advised of your rights, are you willing to make a statement and answer questions?â€

â€œCan I talk to my union rep?â€ Steve asked.

â€œUmm, no.â€

â€œCan I talk to Eric Holder?â€

The deputy looked quizzically at him, and said, â€œYou have the right to talk to an attorney, but not the Attorney General of the United States.â€

â€œWhere is my attorney?â€

â€œWell, he quit. I mean, he quit. He threw his necktie and briefcase down on the table in the hearing room and walked out, saying something about rodeo clown college. I guess the sight of you and that hairy dwarf, naked, was enough to undo three years of law school and ten years as a public defender.

â€œAre you willing to answer questions without an attorney present?â€

Steve, thinking himself far cleverer than he actually was, agreed.

â€œWhy did you try to kill yourself?â€

Steve began to laugh. â€œKill myself? I wasnâ€™t trying to kill myself!â€ The deputy took notes as Steve told him about Nadinâ€™s escape plan, giving himself much more credit for the plan than he had earned. â€œAnd it would have worked, too, if onlyâ€¦â€ Steve trailed off, not really sure why the plan hadnâ€™t worked. He was quiet for a couple of minutes, as the deputy watched his face change with each new thought.

Then it hit him. Goodboy was supposed to overdose on the drugged Mountain Dew, but he hadnâ€™t. What happened? Steve connected the dots, followed the arcs, and concluded that Nadin had crossed the Rubicon and had deliberately poisoned him. â€œDamn her!â€ he cried.

â€œMaybe you should start from the beginning, Mr. Dawes. It will go easier on you if you tell me everything.â€

Steve confessed everything, and the deputy wrote it all down.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on August 25, 2012, 09:46:59 PM: What happened to Good Boy?? Where is Marta?? Last we saw of her was driving off into the sunset.....
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 25, 2012, 09:52:19 PM: Quote from: seahorse513 on August 25, 2012, 09:46:59 PM
What happened to Good Boy?? Where is Marta?? Last we saw of her was driving off into the sunset.....

Tune in next time, same Neckbeard time, same Neckbeard channel!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on August 25, 2012, 09:56:45 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on August 25, 2012, 09:52:19 PM
Tune in next time, same Neckbeard time, same Neckbeard channel!

:argh:I have no patience!!!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on August 25, 2012, 10:02:48 PM: How is it that nadin can manipulate OS better than the joker could manipulate all of Gotham city to include Two Face ?
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on August 26, 2012, 05:50:56 AM: Quote from: obumazombie on August 25, 2012, 10:02:48 PM
How is it that nadin can manipulate OS better than the joker could manipulate all of Gotham city to include Two Face ?

I suspect it has something to do with the old saw, Dolts of a feather...

:-)

Sweet installment! I'm with Sea, the next can't come soon enough.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 26, 2012, 12:12:29 PM: Quote from: Randy on August 26, 2012, 05:50:56 AM
.....the next can't come soon enough.

Oh, yes.

This is excellent beyond expression.

The character of the big guy's captured so well here, better than I've seen it caught anywhere else.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on August 27, 2012, 12:07:57 AM: You do realize, BD, you are now trapped. We are never going to let you stop this epic story.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on August 27, 2012, 12:59:45 AM: Quote from: Bad Dog on August 27, 2012, 12:07:57 AM
You do realize, BD, you are now trapped. We are never going to let you stop this epic story.
Yes, like Annie Wilkes did to Paul Sheldon in "Misery", by Stephen King.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on August 27, 2012, 06:20:42 AM: Quote from: Bad Dog on August 27, 2012, 12:07:57 AM
You do realize, BD, you are now trapped. We are never going to let you stop this epic story.

Brother Dog,

The DUmp is full of primitives whose stories are begging to be told!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on August 27, 2012, 10:03:17 AM: Quote from: obumazombie on August 27, 2012, 12:59:45 AM
Yes, like Annie Wilkes did to Paul Sheldon in "Misery", by Stephen King.

Gotta go out to the garage and dig out my sledge hammer.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on August 27, 2012, 12:57:49 PM: Quote from: Bad Dog on August 27, 2012, 10:03:17 AM
Gotta go out to the garage and dig out my sledge hammer.
You would actually have a choice between that, and an axe.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on August 27, 2012, 07:49:48 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on August 27, 2012, 06:20:42 AM
Brother Dog,

The DUmp is full of primitives whose stories are begging to be told!

Uh huh.

And you're telling a great one.

It's too bad you don't have 88 hours in a day, instead of just 24, because we're always going to want more!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 01, 2012, 03:04:05 PM: Life Imitates Art

Woman accused of poisoning men during "love triangle gone bad" (http://www.wbtv.com/story/19422076/woman-accused-of-poisoning-lover-and-boyfriend)

MORGANTON, NC (WBTV) - A Burke County woman was arrested late Thursday afternoon and accused of contaminating food that she fed to her boyfriend and her lover... putting crushed up muscle relaxers in that boyfriend's food and in another's. "These charges stem from her contaminating a potato on one victim and a Mountain Dew on another victim."

Writer's update:
:50pages:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 01, 2012, 08:26:12 PM: One week later, Steve Dawes was sitting in a chair in the little hearing room outside of the Medical Holding Unit, looking at the judgeâ€™s desk and the big American flag on the wall. Steve was fully dressed, unlike his last foray into the room. His hair was disheveled, and his shaved eyebrow had not yet grown back. The bare patch in his neckbeard glistened with sweat under the fluorescent light.

Steveâ€™s new court-appointed attorney, a young man who looked like the ink on his law license was still damp, sat beside him. This was the first time Steve had seen his new attorney or anyone from the Public Defenderâ€™s Office, since his last lawyer had quit. Looking at the nervous young man sitting beside him, Steve feared he had been traded down.

â€œWhat happens today?â€ Steve asked.

The lawyer looked in a small blue book before answering. â€œYou are here for a competency hearing. The judge must decide if you are competent to be charged with a crime, or if you are incompetent and must be hospitalized. The judge can order further evaluation, which must be done within 30 days.â€

â€œSo Iâ€™m not being charged with a crime today,â€ Steve said. â€œI may get to stay here!â€

â€œItâ€™s possible, but you may also be transferred to the regular holding unit or transferred to the Norfolk Regional Center for further evaluation.â€

â€œNORFOLK?â€ Steve screamed. â€œNO! NO! NO! They canâ€™t send me there!â€ He tried to stand up, but lost his balance and flopped back into the chair, hyperventilating. He began to sob, â€œNo, no, no.â€

The attorney slid his chair away from Steve with a nervous squeak. He glanced toward the deputies, who were starting to move toward the table. One deputy was reaching for the Taser on his hip. The attorney held up his hand, to try to convince the deputies that he was in control of his client. The deputies were not convinced, but they stopped and watched Steve carefully.

â€œMr., ummmâ€¦.â€ The attorney looked at his paperwork, â€œDawes. The Norfolk Regional Center is for the evaluation and treatment of sex offenders. If you are found incompetent and committed a sex offense, you must be transferred to Norfolk. I hear itâ€™s a very nice place, with big windows in every room and a big dayroom with a big screen TV.â€ The attorney tried to sound reassuring, but succeeded in merely sounding frightened.

Steve continued to sob. â€œfranksolich. Heâ€™s behind all of this, I know it.â€

The attorney looked at the deputies, who looked back at him. One deputy shrugged, but kept his hand on his Taser.

â€œMr., ummmâ€¦ Dawes. Coach Solich is not at the Norfolk Regional Center. He is in Athens, Ohio, coaching college football.â€

â€œNo, no, no. You donâ€™t understand. None of you understand. Marta understood. She always understood. Heâ€™s right, she is almost a saint. Oh, God,â€ Steve wailed. â€œHow can he be right?â€

The attorney looked at his notes again. He had no idea why Steve Dawes was so afraid of the former University of Nebraska football coach, but the name â€œMartaâ€ seemed familiar to him.

Then the attorney remembered why the name â€œMartaâ€ had caught his attention. He looked at two manila envelopes sitting on the table beside the case file, and debated whether to break bad news, and worse news, to Steve Dawes before his competency hearing. â€œIf Mr., ummmâ€¦ Dawes is found incompetent,â€ the lawyer told himself, â€œthe envelopes wonâ€™t matter at all.â€

The lawyer decided to wait.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 01, 2012, 08:41:41 PM: Whoa.

I'm glad you caught that; Nebraska has three mental institutions, in Lincoln, Norfolk, and Hastings.

And you're right--the nuthouse up around here in Norfolk is a high-security place for sex offenders; its only function. It used to be a general overall insane asylum, but some years ago it became specialized.

I must say, Big Dog does his research. Congratulations!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: J P Sousa on September 01, 2012, 09:02:55 PM: Well I for one am disappointed, all that reading and I didn't see anything about a "redhead's breasts". :whistling:

.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 01, 2012, 09:04:12 PM: Quote from: J P Sousa on September 01, 2012, 09:02:55 PM
Well I for one am disappointed, all that reading and I didn't see anything about a "redhead's breasts". :whistling:
.

They were in there. Kinda like "Where's Waldo?"
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on September 01, 2012, 09:31:27 PM: Another exciting episode!! I can't wait for another installment....
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on September 02, 2012, 05:30:07 AM: It gets better and better!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 02, 2012, 07:28:56 PM: Steve Dawes was getting nervous, waiting for the competency hearing to begin. He told the deputies that he had to use the restroom. One deputy escorted him to the small restroom in the back of the hearing room, and stood by as Steve relieved himself noisily with a trumpet of flatus. The deputy noticed Steve didnâ€™t wash his hands afterward. He put on blue vinyl gloves before escorting Steve back to the defendant's table.

Back at the table, the public defender grabbed Steveâ€™s sleeve as the judge entered the hearing room. Steve made a great show of grimacing as he stood. The deputy read the case number, â€œIn the matter of the State of Nebraska versus Steven Dawes.â€

Steve whispered to his attorney, â€œThey have to prove Iâ€™m crazy, right?â€

The attorney nodded. The deputy directed them to be seated. Steve passed wind again as his backside hit the chair. His attorney wondered if Steve had soiled himself, and grimaced. Steve looked unconcerned.

The judge looked at the file on his desk. â€œMr. Dawes, this is a mental competency hearing. The court will evaluate your ability to participate in your own defense. There is no prosecutor for this hearing. No evidence related to the charges against you will be introduced nor discussed. You have the right to remain silent, and to be represented by an attorney. I see you have a court-appointed attorney. Have you had an opportunity to discuss your case with your attorney?â€

Steve was silent.

â€œMr. Dawes, do you understand the purpose of this hearing, and have you had an opportunity to consult with your counsel?â€ the judge asked again.

Steve said nothing.

The public defender leaned over to Steve, maintaining a safe distance. â€œMr., ummmâ€¦ Dawes, you should answer him.â€

Steve whispered back, â€œHe said I can remain silent. Thatâ€™s what Iâ€™m gonna do.â€

The judge watched as Steve and the attorney whispered. â€œIf you choose to be silent, your attorney may answer for you, which will not be held against you in a court of law.

â€œVery well, Mr. Dawes. Letâ€™s proceed. I have the reports of the Bellevue Police Department, the Sarpy County Attorney, the Sarpy County Sheriffâ€™s Office, and the psychiatrist from the Nebraska Department of Health, Division of Psychiatric Services. I also have videotape evidence provided by the Sarpy County Sheriffâ€™s Office, which I reviewed prior to this hearing.

â€œThe legal standard for competence has two parts. First, do you understand the nature of the proceedings and the charges against you? Second, can you participate in your own defense?â€

Steve looked sullenly at the judge. He had to pass wind again, but he held it in. He was afraid it would be held against him.

The judge proceeded. â€œYou are under arrest for violations of felony offenses and misdemeanors. At least one charge is classified as a sex offense. If you are found competent, you may be remanded for trial in Sarpy County District Court. If you are found incompetent, you will be transferred to the Norfolk Regional Center for treatment until such time as you are competent to stand trial, at which time you will be remanded for trial. Do you understand?â€

Steve nodded and grunted. His attorney quickly said, â€œMy client understands, Your Honor.â€

â€œYou were placed under arrest for seven counts of felony assault, using a firearm to commit a felony, making a terroristic threat, discharging a firearm within city limits, and violation of Bellevue traffic ordinances. Since your incarceration, the County Attorney filed additional charges of attempted murder by poisoning, attempted escape, violation of the Nebraska Controlled Substance Act, conspiracy to commit a felony, conspiracy to operate a criminal organization or gang, criminal sodomy of a confined person, and adulteration of a food product.â€

Steveâ€™s eyes grew wider with each additional charge. After the last charge was read, Steve yelled, â€œI didnâ€™t adulterate a food product! I ate that kielbasa, I swear I did!â€

â€œNo, Mr. Dawes. â€˜Adulteration of a food productâ€™ refers to introducing a hazardous non-food ingredient into a food product with the intent that another person consumes the foreign substance. According to the charge sheet, the detention officers found Mountain Dew bottles contaminated with urine and prescription medications in your possession.â€

The judge paused and reviewed a sheet of paper in the file on his desk. â€œIf you are found guilty of all charges, you may be incarcerated for a period of not less than 125 years, nor more than 775 years. Your attorney should explain the details of the sentencing for these offenses.

â€œDo you understand the charges I read to you, Mr. Dawes?â€

Steve nodded his head, but did not speak. He began to hyperventilate.

â€œYour Honor, may we have a short recess?â€ the attorney asked.

â€œVery well, ten minutes.â€ The judge left the hearing room.

Steve continued to hyperventilate. â€œThis isnâ€™t fair!â€

The attorney replied, â€œItâ€™s not a question of fairness. Itâ€™s the law. We can plea bargain, if the prosecutor will work with us. It will probably be better for you, anyway. Iâ€™ve seen the videos, and itâ€™s not something we want a jury to see.â€

Steve thought about it. Suddenly, the idea of being committed to Norfolk wasnâ€™t so abhorrent to him. He made a decision to convince the judge that he was crazy, but kept it to himself. His breathing slowed, bit by bit, until he appeared to be under control.

The judge returned, and the deputy called the room to order.

â€œMr. Dawes, are you feeling better?â€

Steve nodded and licked his lips. He intended to expose himself to the judge so the judge would think he was crazy. He reached down the front of his pants and loosened the drawstring. Steve noticed that his bladder was full again, causing an unpleasant pressure.

â€œTo determine if you are able to participate in your own defense, we rely on the psychiatristsâ€™ reports. According to the reports, you scored â€œaverage to below averageâ€ on standard IQ tests. You have regular delusions of being tormented by a former University of Nebraska football coach, and by a cigar-smoking dog. You have had several documented episodes of self-injury. You show signs of sexual paraphilias involving high school girls' basketball players and male football players. However, the psychiatrist concludes, and I agree, that you meet the minimum standard for competence to stand trial.â€

Steve pushed back his chair and started to his feet, but he lost his balance and fell forward onto the table. His pants fell to his ankles. Again he passed wind with a wet bugle call, to the horror of his attorney, who was less than a foot from his buttocks. He lost control of his bladder. His urine sprayed onto his attorney, flowed down his legs and pooled on the floor around his feet. His attorney began to scream. The second deputy put on blue vinyl gloves.

The judge watched as the deputies again subdued Steve, and restrained him to the chair.

â€œMr. Dawes, the court is not impressed by your theatrics,â€ he said over the screams of the public defender. â€œWe find that you are competent to stand trial, but we order you be held without bond in the interest of public safety. Furthermore, we order a complete psychiatric evaluation at the Sexual Offender Unit of the Norfolk Regional Center, with a report to this court within thirty days.

The judge wrinkled his nose at the smells of urine, sweat, old sewage, and flatus emanating from the defendantâ€™s table. For a moment, he felt sorry for the screaming young lawyer.

â€œMr. Dawes, I recommend you take a shower. Counselor, the same goes for you. This hearing is adjourned.â€

After the judge left the hearing room, the deputies returned Steve to the medical housing unit. His attorney sat at the table, soaked in Steveâ€™s urine. His screams turned to sobs as he looked down at the table.

The two manila envelopes were unsoiled. The attorney knew he must deliver the bad news, and worse news, to Steve; but first he needed a shower, a change of clothes, and a drink. "On second thought," the attorney told himself, "lots of drinks."
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 02, 2012, 07:38:57 PM: Whoa.

You've apparently been in courtrooms in Nebraska.

Awesome work!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 02, 2012, 07:58:55 PM: Quote from: franksolich on September 02, 2012, 07:38:57 PM
Whoa.

You've apparently been in courtrooms in Nebraska.

Awesome work!

Thank you very much.

It's been a few years, but I do have some experience in courtrooms at the other end of the state.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on September 02, 2012, 10:12:55 PM: It was awesomeness at its best!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on September 02, 2012, 10:18:00 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on September 02, 2012, 07:28:56 PM
Steve passed wind again as his backside hit the chair. His attorney wondered if Steve had soiled himself, and grimaced.

I'm sensing a theme.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on September 02, 2012, 10:19:19 PM: Quote from: Chris_ on September 02, 2012, 10:18:00 PM
I'm sensing a theme.
Which sense are you most relying on ?
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 02, 2012, 10:23:00 PM: Quote from: Chris_ on September 02, 2012, 10:18:00 PM
I'm sensing a theme.

You don't need Spidey-sense to identify the themes!

:rofl:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 03, 2012, 07:51:08 AM: Okay, this is not necessarily related to Big Dog's artful story, but it sort of is.

This, from the legal news in Pierce County, Nebraska (franksolich does not live in Pierce County himself, but he lives near to it):

Quote
Austin Hiatt, 21, of Bristow pleaded not guilty to a charge of criminal mischief. He is charged with plugging the sanitary sewer lines in the courthouse. He had been a Wayne County prisoner serving his jail sentence in the Pierce County jail when the sewer line from his cell was plugged with various materials during June. His trial was scheduled for the October jury term. The Pierce police department and Pierce County sheriffâ€™s office investigated the incident.

http://www.norfolkdailynews.com/news/sentencings-plea-deals-made-in-pierce-county/article_31908f60-f377-11e1-9bcb-001a4bcf6878.html

The words "various materials" are a euphemism, of course.

The guy has a problem.

It's either the same problem the lazy-stay-at-home Robb primitive has, where the Robb primitive drops, uh, stuff in there the size of watermelons. I'm not making this up; the Robb primitive has frankly admitted to it in the past, on Skins's island.

If it's not that problem, it's the same problem the Las Vegas Leviathan has, where he clogs up the commode expelling massive quantities of the stuff. Of all sizes and consistencies, but sheer mountains of it.

It's one or the other; I don't look into things that deeply.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Vagabond on September 03, 2012, 09:36:44 PM: This is great stuff. It's good to head off to bed with a chuckle.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: obumazombie on September 03, 2012, 09:54:21 PM: (http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTzMsyAuqZ61AcBRQcCf2cW9uQ5gel_nV2Avz703orNYvCXbRGMBg)
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Skul on September 08, 2012, 09:54:00 AM: Quote
Again he passed wind with a wet bugle call
The Trumpets of Jerico!!1!11! :panic: :runaway:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Mike B the Cajun on September 08, 2012, 11:14:30 PM: Quote from: Skul on September 08, 2012, 09:54:00 AM
The Trumpets of Jerico!!1!11! :panic: :runaway:

:lmao:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 09, 2012, 09:53:33 PM: The next day, the attorney returned to the Sarpy County Corrections Center to meet his client. He had e-mailed the director of corrections from his office, warning about the bad news and worse news contained in the manila envelopes. He had not heard back from the director before driving from his office to the Corrections Center.

When he saw Steve Dawes in the medical housing unit, the attorney knew his warning had been taken seriously. Steve was dressed in a bright orange sleeveless tunic and pants held together by Velcro along the seams. Paper slippers were wrapped around Steveâ€™s feet. The attorney recognized the change in clothing as part of the facilityâ€™s suicide precautions. The watchful detention officer in the hallway was another part.

The lawyer took a deep breath.

â€œMr. Dawes, the judge found you competent to stand trial. You will be transferred to Norfolk for a sex offenderâ€™s evaluation, and after the judge receives the report he will schedule an arraignment.â€

Steve asked, â€œWill anyone be able to get at me at Norfolk?â€

â€œNo,â€ the attorney replied. â€œYou will be housed in a separate unit from the rest of the population, and your contact will be limited to facility staff and your attorney.â€

Steve looked relieved. His fear of being so close to his nemesis subsided a bit.

The attorney decided it was time to break the bad news, and worse news, to Steve. â€œI see the officers changed your clothes,â€ he said as an opening gambit.

â€œYeah, they didnâ€™t tell me why. I think they are trying to torture me for my political beliefs. I went on a hunger strike this morning, but I suspended it at breakfast time. They served bacon at breakfast, but I didnâ€™t eat it in protest. Conservatives love bacon, you know,â€ Steve said with a squint. â€œI am back on the hunger strike until lunchtime.â€

The attorney sighed and said, â€œMr. Dawes, a process server delivered some papers for you to the Public Defenderâ€™s Office. Since the judge found you competent to stand trial, I must deliver the papers to you and certify to the court that you have been served.â€

The attorney handed the first envelope to Steve. Steve looked at it for a second. He recognized the name of the law firm on the top of the address label; he had seen their commercials on late night television, offering to represent women going through divorce.

Steve read the legal papers dully. Martaâ€™s name was listed as â€œPetitioner,â€ and his was listed as â€œRespondent.â€ â€œPetition for Dissolution of Marriageâ€, â€œPetition for Distribution of Propertyâ€, â€œEx parte Restraining Order.â€ Steve wasnâ€™t surprised at the paperwork, since he had not heard from Marta for more than a month. He was confused at the last document, â€œEx parte Order to Release Property In Custodia Legis.â€ Steve asked the attorney to explain the meaning of the last document.

â€œI am only your attorney for the criminal charges, Mr. Dawes. You really should get a lawyer who specializes in civil law. But, I will tell you that the document authorizes the county to release your house to the bank as part of repossession, without foreclosure proceedings. It seems your mortgage was unpaid and your house is considered abandoned while you have been incarcerated.â€ Steve had hoped to use his house as collateral if the court would let him post bail.

The attorney pressed on. â€œI have more papers for you.â€ He passed the second envelope across the table.

Steve looked at the stamp on the outside of the envelope for a minute: State of Nebraska, Department of Labor, Workers Compensation Board. Steveâ€™s face grew ashen and his hands shook as he opened the envelope. He recognized the papers, recalling the last time he was caught at a â€œCombatâ€ convention while supposedly flat on his back from a back injury. Steveâ€™s hands shook more as he read the first page, â€œ...evidence the Beneficiary engaged in physical activity while fraudulently claiming disability for a compensable workplace injury.â€

Steve felt a tightness in his chest as he looked at photographs in the file; pictures of him holding his granddaughter in his arms and riding the miniature train on Fatherâ€™s Day. Behind the pictures was an affidavit by Goodboy, graphically and comically exaggerating Steveâ€™s sexual prowess while they were incarcerated together at the Medical Housing Unit. â€œDamn him,â€ Steve said to himself. â€œI thought he could only say, â€˜Iâ€™m a good boyâ€™.â€ Steve realized that he had not seen Goodboy since the escape attempt, in fact, he hadnâ€™t even thought of Goodboy. Then he forgot about Goodboy again.

The attorney watched Steve closely. His skin had turned grey, and he was sweating profusely. His breathing had become uneven, gasping. He didnâ€™t look well at all. Steve mumbled, and the attorney leaned forward to hear him. Steve clutched at his chest and fell from the chair to the floor.

The attorney looked at Steve closely. He saw that Steve was still breathing, to the lawyerâ€™s great relief. He told himself that he wouldnâ€™t perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on Steve. â€œHeâ€™d probably try to slip me the tongueâ€, the attorney thought with alarm. Then he remembered that he was supposed to do something. He called for the detention officer, who radioed for help and unlocked the door to the small room.

The young attorney backed away from the room as the medical staff ran in. â€œWell, that went better than I expected,â€ the attorney said to himself, â€œMuch better than I expected.â€
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on September 09, 2012, 10:07:04 PM: Another awesome story in the life of Steve!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 10, 2012, 07:47:54 AM: Gripping.

Damn, it's good.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 16, 2012, 10:07:25 PM: Steve Dawes opened his eyes. He recognized the interior of an ambulance. He also recognized Nadin sitting on the bench next to the cot. Nadin was dressed in a faded, too-tight blue uniform, with patches on the sleeves. Steve focused on the patches first; â€œCruz Roja Mexicanaâ€. He then saw the biggest Bowie knife he had ever seen in his life, a macheteâ€™ really, hanging from Nadinâ€™s belt.

â€œWhat happened?â€ Steve asked.

â€œDollink, we broke you out!â€

â€œWhat do you mean, â€˜weâ€™?â€

Steve heard a familiar voice from the cab, â€œIâ€™m a good boy!â€

â€œGoodboy? How? What happened?â€

Nadinâ€™s eyes were glassy as they darted around the cabin. â€œSuffice it to say, we took control of the ambulance.â€ She patted the knife. â€œI couldnâ€™t let you go to prison while El Perro Grande still walks the street a free man!â€ Steve didnâ€™t know who she was talking about. He was having trouble breathing.

Nadin looked through the rear window of the ambulance, and saw the Missouri River bridge. â€œWe have just crossed the Rubicon!â€

â€œBut, my chestâ€¦â€ Steve said weakly. â€œIt feels like a hippopotamus is sitting on my chest.â€

â€œDonâ€™t worry, dollink. If it doesnâ€™t feel like an elephant, youâ€™re not having a heart attack. I learned that on the streets of Cuidad de Mexico.â€

Steve was not reassured. He didnâ€™t know much about Mexican emergency medical services, but he was fairly certain it was not unionized. How could he trust a sytem that used scab labor?

Nadin rummaged through the medications, looking mystified. Steve heard her mutter, â€œWe never had this in Mexico.â€ She read the names on various injectors, and keyed them into her iPhone.

â€œWhat are you doing?â€ Steve asked weakly.

â€œJust checking dosages, dollink. Do not fear. Hmm, epinephrine and lidocaine. This looks right.â€ Nadin pushed two injectors full of medication into Steve's IV.

â€œShouldnâ€™t I have some kind of heart monitor or something?â€ Steve asked as he broke into a cold sweat. He felt his heart racing.

â€œNonsense, dollink. We never had such luxuries when I was on the streets. All I had was my knife and a bottle of mescal. Thatâ€™s combat medicine!â€

Steve was having trouble focusing on her. The crushing pain had worsened. He heard a roaring sound in his ears, and in the distance he heard Goodboy yelling, â€œIâ€™m a good boy! Iâ€™m a good boy!â€ Steve heard Nadin yelling back at Goodboy, â€œStop using the radio! Put it down!â€

Goodboy threw the radio microphone to the floor, walked back to the cabin of the ambulance, and screamed at Nadin, â€œIâ€™m a good boy! Iâ€™m a good boy!â€

Steve realized that the ambulance was still moving, and that no one was driving, less than a second before the ambulance left the road. He had time for one weak scream before the rig rolled into a ditch, hit the ditchbank, and stopped.

Steve heard sirens in the distance, coming closer.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on September 16, 2012, 10:20:14 PM: :rofl:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on September 17, 2012, 09:07:19 AM: :rotf: awesome!Nadine trying to exploit her emt practices....
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: GOBUCKS on September 17, 2012, 04:51:10 PM: Quote
Steve heard a familiar voice from the cab, â€œIâ€™m a good boy!â€

Quote
Biden: 'Iâ€™m a Good Vice President'
http://www.weeklystandard.com/blogs/biden-i-m-good-vice-president_652492.html
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 17, 2012, 08:17:08 PM: You know, of course I saw the big guy at that kidney function in Omaha, but it was from sort of a distance.

Recently I saw that photograph of the big guy hugging some other guy, and was blown away by his enormity.

If this is in an ambulance, wouldn't it have to be one of those double-wide vehicles with all sorts of equipment, including a crane, to deal with oversized people?

They do have such things, after all. I was appalled when I learned that blood-pressure monitors are now adapted to taking several lengths of those strips, so they can be wrapped around the arm of oversized people like the big guy.

I am truly shocked that dear Marta hasn't taken things into her own hands and sewn his mouth shut.

There ain't no way the human heart and other parts of one's insides can deal with that bulk.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on September 24, 2012, 10:12:27 PM: Steve heard sirens in the distance, coming closer. Over the sirens, he heard Nadin grunting and gasping for air as she tried to unbuckle the straps holding Steve to the ambulance cot. He heard nothing of Goodboy. "He ran off," Nadin told him.

Nadin gave up on unbuckling Steve, and drew the gigantic Bowie knife. She sawed at the straps, cursing the retired submarine chief at home who refused to let her sharpen the blade. Quite by accident, Nadin hit the button with the point of her knife, and the straps came free. She stood up a little straighter and said â€œTa-da!â€

Steve felt the pain in his chest as Nadin pulled at him, guiding him out of the ambulance. The sirens grew closer, crossing the Missouri River Bridge from Bellevue. Ahead, Steve could see the lights of Iowaâ€™s law enforcement, farther away but approaching more quickly. The pain in his chest increased as he started to hyperventilate.

â€œLook, dollink. Our chariot awaits!â€ Nadin croaked cheerily as an old Chevrolet Caprice pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road. An old man got out of the old car and approached them.

â€œHey, mister. What happened? Were you in that ambulance?â€

Steve grabbed the old man and pulled him into the ditch. Steve threw him to the ground, and waddled to the Caprice. Nadin was one step behind him. Steve thought, â€œThis must be how Bonnie and Clyde did it!â€ as he got behind the wheel. Nadin sat close beside him. Her furry hand rested on his knee.

â€œJust like Barney and Clyde,â€ she said. The tires spit gravel as Steve took off.

Steve tried to blend in with traffic. As they approached Interstate 29, Steve wavered. North or south?

Nadin made up his mind for him. â€œGo left, go left!â€

Steve took the exit, and drove north. He remembered the last time he drove on this stretch of the Interstate, Fatherâ€™s Day with his granddaughter. So much had happened to him, so many unbelievable things. For a moment, Steve wondered if the events of the summer had happened only in his head, or in a story. With a shake, he dismissed the thought.

â€œWhere are we going, Nadin?â€

â€œI have a cunning plan,â€ was all she said. Steve shrugged.

Steve turned on the car radio. The channel was preset to KFAB, Omahaâ€™s Talk Leader. Steve and Nadin reacted to the voice on the radio as if they had been splashed with holy water, and Nadin pawed at the radio until it was silent.

After an hour or so of silence, Nadin pointed to an exit. The fugitives crossed the Missouri River back into Nebraska. There were no police cars, no roadblocks, and no sign that their return to Nebraska had attracted attention. Steve relaxed a little, and put his arm around Nadin. She nuzzled him, her neckbeard tickling his.

Driving northwest, Steve again asked Nadin where they were going. â€œNorth, dollinkâ€ she replied. "We can sneak across the border and live in the Workerâ€™s Paradise of Canada. Theyâ€™ll welcome us with open arms!â€ Steve had often read of how Canada welcomed Democrats fleeing oppression, like the draft and Republican presidents. He imagined colorful tent cities along the border, where everyone belonged to unions, mini-tacos grew on trees, and the nights were filled with drum circles. Steve could almost smell the patchouli and hemp oil.

As darkness approached, Steve decided to stop for the night. He was afraid to park in any of the small towns they had passed through, so he looked for a quiet spot in the country.

On a secluded stretch of Nebraska highway, Steve found a pasture along a riverbank. He parked the car, and looked in the back for blankets, coats, or anything to make into bedding. Fortunately, the old man who owned the car kept a winter survival kit in the trunk, with two wool blankets. Steve made a nest on the grass beside the car, and lay down.

â€œDollink.â€

Steve saw Nadin, standing naked in the moonlight.

â€œDo you remember my reverse Brazilian?â€

Steve remembered.

â€œGuess what else I shaved for you?â€™

The next fifteen minutes were the strangest and most disgusting of Steveâ€™s life. Afterward, Nadin fell asleep in a little furry ball in the nest of wool blankets. Steve sat naked in the dirt, and rocked back and forth. His chest hurt again.

The longer he sat, the more Steve worried about the returning chest pain. Alone in the darkness, with only Nadinâ€™s snoring to hold back the creatures who inhabited Steveâ€™s imagination, he grew more apprehensive. After a few minutes, Steve was overcome by the fear that he would die in the darkness of the Nebraska countryside, and the coyotes would eat his carcass. Steve was certain that the coyotes were Republicans, who could smell a Democrat in the darkness.

He stood up and stumbled to the highway. The moon was low in the western sky, and the eastern horizon was beginning to lighten in anticipation of the dawn. Steve saw the lights of a city in the distance.

Steve walked unsteadily along the shoulder of the road, toward the city lights. He hoped the coyotes would not follow him into town. As the coyotes of his imagination grew closer, Steve saw headlights crest the hill behind him and a car approach, driving toward town. He stood in the middle of the road, waving his arms frantically.

The car stopped, with Steve full in its headlights. Steve lumbered over to the driverâ€™s side and yelled, â€œHelp me! The coyotes are gonna eat me! I need to go to the hospital!â€ Through the closed driverâ€™s window, Steve saw the driver gesture at the passenger seat and nod. Steve waddled around to the passenger side and got in the car. The man drove toward town, avoiding eye contact with Steve as he drove. Steve assumed the man was being polite, as Steve was still naked. He had heard of country manners, so different from the behavior of the people of Omaha and Steveâ€™s union brothers and sisters, and he figured the man was an example.

Steve started to talk. He talked about his granddaugher Madison, and the trip they had taken to Missouri Valley to ride the train. He talked about his candidacy for Bellevue City Council. He talked about the union, and the eternal struggle of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie. He even talked about Nadin, Goodboy, and the Neckbeard Gang, which made his chest hurt again.

As Steve talked, the driver resolutely watched the road. He did not speak.

On the edge of town, the driver turned onto a side street. Steve saw a one story brick building with a lighted flagpole and a circle drive. The driver turned into the circle drive and stopped in front of the building. Large glass doors led into a well-lit foyer which Steve assumed was the Emergency Room.

The stranger turned to Steve and looked closely at his face. â€œI think this is the place youâ€™re looking for.â€ His voice was flat, completely without intonation. Steve thanked him and got out. He watched as the man drove away.

â€œHe was nice,â€ Steve said aloud. â€œOne of the nicest guysâ€¦â€ His voice trailed off as his blood turned to ice. He noticed the letters â€œNORFOLK REGIONAL CENTERâ€ beside the glass doors, just as two uniformed officers stepped out of the door.

The officers quickly recovered from the shock of seeing a gigantic naked man outside of the facility, and subdued the wriggling walrus without difficulty. One of the officers noticed the still-healing wound on Steveâ€™s foot, and said to the other, â€œLooks like he shot himself in the foot.â€

The other officer nodded and replied, â€œHis kind always does.â€
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Bad Dog on September 24, 2012, 10:19:56 PM: Sweet!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Chris_ on September 24, 2012, 10:34:25 PM: :rofl:

That was beautiful. :lmao:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on September 25, 2012, 07:52:37 AM: That was too funny! :rotf:
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Randy on September 25, 2012, 03:10:16 PM: I'm lovin' it.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 25, 2012, 07:32:21 PM: Damn good.

The Norfolk Regional Center is one of only three fantasy hospitals in Nebraska--we don't have as many nuts as blue states do.

It's way out on the eastern edge of the big city, all sorts of buildings on scores of acres of lush verdant green grass and trees and ponds and stuff, birds and rabbits and deer; the sort of place one would take the family picnicking.

It's mostly abandoned now, all but one of the buildings unused, empty, their windows broken, parts of the roofs blown off.

The one building that's still being used is a high-tech security building, for housing sex offenders, about 200 of them.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Jasonw560 on September 28, 2012, 02:10:15 PM: [youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZrgxHvNNUc[/youtube]
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 28, 2012, 02:58:47 PM: Quote from: Jasonw560 on September 28, 2012, 02:10:15 PM

Big Dog's been absent since Wednesday.

I wonder what's going on; I hope nothing bad.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on September 29, 2012, 09:14:35 AM: Quote from: franksolich on September 28, 2012, 02:58:47 PM
Quote from: Jasonw560 on September 28, 2012, 02:10:15 PM

Big Dog's been absent since Wednesday.

I wonder what's going on; I hope nothing bad.
No, nothing major.... His antannae on the roof broke. He is hoping to get it fixed this week , I believe.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on September 29, 2012, 09:19:20 AM: Quote from: seahorse513 on September 29, 2012, 09:14:35 AM
No, nothing major.... His antannae on the roof broke. He is hoping to get it fixed this week , I believe.

Well, that's good to hear.

Not about the antenna, but that nothing's happened to him personally.

A day here without Big Dog is about as sere as a day without the sun.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Karin on October 02, 2012, 12:51:10 PM: Yes, I miss him; wish he'd come back. What a story! Absolutely magnificent.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on October 02, 2012, 10:46:47 PM: Quote from: Karin on October 02, 2012, 12:51:10 PM
Yes, I miss him; wish he'd come back. What a story! Absolutely magnificent.
He is picking up the antanna tomorrow I think...so hopefully he will be on by Thursday.I miss him lots!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on October 03, 2012, 07:35:28 AM: Quote from: seahorse513 on October 02, 2012, 10:46:47 PM
I miss him lots!!!

You think you miss him?

Ha.

I miss him more than his wife would.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on October 03, 2012, 08:44:23 PM: Hello, all!

I am back. As seahorse reported (thanks!), I had to replace the external antenna for the internet. A $200 expense I hadn't budgeted for.

Thanks for the good words.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on October 03, 2012, 08:45:31 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on October 03, 2012, 08:44:23 PM
Hello, all!

I am back. As seahorse reported (thanks!), I had to replace the external antenna for the internet. A $200 expense I hadn't budgeted for.

Thanks for the good words.

Hey!

Welcome back!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: Big Dog on October 03, 2012, 08:56:44 PM: Quote from: franksolich on October 03, 2012, 08:45:31 PM
Hey!

Welcome back!

Thank you, my friend. It's good to be back.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on October 03, 2012, 08:58:32 PM: Welcome back!!!!
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on October 03, 2012, 08:58:54 PM: Quote from: Big Dog on October 03, 2012, 08:56:44 PM
Thank you, my friend. It's good to be back.

We have to exchange telephone numbers sometime soon.

I don't do good, but I'm good for at least a couple of minutes, after which I fade out.

If you want, holler at me via personal message.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: seahorse513 on October 03, 2012, 09:01:14 PM: Quote from: franksolich on October 03, 2012, 08:58:54 PM
We have to exchange telephone numbers sometime soon.

I don't do good, but I'm good for at least a couple of minutes, after which I fade out.

If you want, holler at me via personal message.
Do you text on a cell phone, Frank??
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on October 16, 2012, 03:07:58 PM: Quote from: seahorse513 on October 03, 2012, 09:01:14 PM
Do you text on a cell phone, Frank??

Big Dog seems to have evaporated again; it's been five days.

He e-mailed me a link to "text" on his cellular telephone, but two problems.

He warned me its "capacity" is 150 words. Ain't no way I can write something in 150 words or less.

But the bigger issue is that it'd make his cellular telephone ring, and being like other users of cellular telephones, he'll drop what he's doing at the moment to see it, even though it's not that important, and can wait.

<<has been the victim of too many important conversations interruped by cellular telephones; refuses to do the same to others.
Title: Re: Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer
Post by: franksolich on October 16, 2012, 04:35:35 PM: I've now been informed that our much-esteemed and much-prized colleague Big Dog will return in a few days; apparently a little tad bit of a health problem, so that's understandable.

I was also asked why I didn't text him.

<<does not do anything having to to with cellular telephones; they've screwed up this life considerably, and have no intention of screwing up other lives.

<<am not about to rudely interrupt Big Dog about a small matter when he's probably dealing with a big matter.

I know an EMT (emergency medical technician) who was so "conditioned" to responding to his telephone--dropped everything whenever it rang, no matter what he was doing--that one time while doing CPR (cardio-respiratory resuscitation) and he quit that urgent life-saving thing he was involved in when his telephone rang.

Fortunately, he got a grip on himself, and nothing bad happened. But it could've.

When I get around to winning the Powerball, and hence have clout over how others behave, I'm going to refuse to deal with anybody with a cellular telephone anywhere near him. If one wants to do business with me, one'd have to leave the damned thing at home or out in the car.

Otherwise, no deal; go away.

I always thought cellular telephones should automatically be equipped with rings indicating the gravity or triviality of the message, from "this is nothing important, it can wait until later, so carry on what you're already doing" to "urgent." In which case I'd be able to indicate it can wait.

But then there'd be an overuse of the "urgent" ring by attention-seekers, so that wouldn't really work.

My refusal to "text" could actually be a life-saver, by the way. Since I don't text and rudely interrupt something important with my trivial matter, if one were to suddenly out of the blue receive a text from franksolich, he'd know right away it's a serious matter of life-or-death, and stand by to call 911.