Firefighter Social - Check Out My Page - Timothy Casey

Firefighter Social - Check Out My Page - Timothy Casey

Colorado Cries Uncle!

Colorado cries Uncle! I believe I am not alone in asking why has so much tragedy fallen on Colorado? I watched my city burn just a few weeks ago and have dozens of friends trying to find a way back to a normal life after losing everything they owned.

I was directly affected by the Waldo Canyon fire in many ways and am still involved with efforts to help my home town recovery from this event. Then I heard about the shootings in Denver and thought what the hell is happening around here. But felt rightly or wrongly that although tragic at least it didn’t claw its way into my life.

Small world after all, turns out my family is affected by the shootings to the north. My cousin was married years ago to a lady who has since remarried. She has remarried and her new husband is the brother of the woman who brought her 6 year old to the movie and was killed.

She herself is pregnant and was wounded as well, not sure of her condition or the condition of the child she carries. How dreadful and tragic. As I learned of this fact my first question was why in the world had they taken their 6 year old to a midnight movie in the first place?

I’m not judging anyone here, I am a single parent with three children, all older than this child and I don’t think I would take my two daughters to this movie at all, let alone in the wee hours of the morning. I will allow my teenage son to go with his buddies but not to a midnight showing.

I hope to hear later from family what the circumstances were and will relate them if and when I hear back. Maybe they had a babysitter arranged and had already spent the money on tickets and the babysitter bailed out on them. That would be a lot of money to throw away if you live on a budget like mine. So maybe bring the child along was a way to save money. I know when mine were that age they could sleep through anything and maybe that was the plan.

Maybe this is a habit they have as a family, maybe they so love Batman that they just couldn’t wait, I don’t know.

On another note, I have another cousin that works in the jail where the freak show that is James Holmes is being held and is the former sister-in-law of the woman related to the shooting victim.

While the jailers were talking amongst themselves one of her co-workers said that he and his wife were all set to attend the very showing where the shooting took place, but changed their minds at the last minute when his wife got a weird feeling about going to the show and asked her husband if they could skip and go at another time.

Good feeling I’d say. So although I believed I had no connection to the shootings other than being a human sickened by this act it turns out it has had a direct effect on my family and will continue to be a sad part of our families life.

The Last Tattoo.

The door swung open to reveal what could perhaps be best described as a very tall and anorexic Santa Clause, or maybe a non-green bearded Praying Mantis.

Slim’s limbs were quit Mantis religiosa in appearance. His hands held slightly higher than his elbows and the slouch in his stance allowed his elbows to fall nearly to his hips. An equipment box of some sort was held tightly in his right hand and his left hand still hovered near the door in case another knock was needed.

“Yes, may I help you?” asked Clarence.

Clarence was dressed in scrubs and still had a surgical glove on his left hand, a pair of mounted magnifying glasses strapped to his forehead.

“Yes” said Slim. “My name is Slim and I am here to see Mister James Spinner.”

Clarence rolled his left wrist toward his eyes and glanced at his watch.

“I am sorry…Slim, but there is no viewing of our guests after hours, and as we closed more than half an hour ago you will need to come back tomorrow.” Clarence stepped back and grabbed the door.

Slim stepped forward and slowed the door as it moved toward him.

“I’m sorry Mister?”

“Mister Jabbs, Clarence Jabbs.” Said Clarence,

“Mister Jabbs, but I’m not here to actually visit Mister Spinner, I am here to work on Mister Spinner.”

“Work on Mister Spinner? I what sense are you going to work on Mister Spinner? This is my business I don’t allow other people to come in here and work Mister Slim.”

“Just Slim, no Mister please.” Said Slim.

“Okay Slim, look you can’t work on Mister Spinner. I have no idea who you are and besides Mister Spinner is unclaimed. The county will only pay the bare minimum for services on him, so whatever it was you wanted to do you can’t nobody will pay for it.”

“That is fine Clarence. You see I have already been paid for my services and that is precisely why I am here, because I have already been paid.” Said Slim.

“Exactly what is it that you want to do Slim?” asked Clarence.

Slim swung his left hand like a gun slinger down to his pants pocket and withdrew a slip of paper, he trust it at Clarence.

“That is the last request of Mister Spinner and I am here to carry it out.”

Clarence pulled the paper apart and read.

“A tattoo, I’m supposed to let you tattoo a dead guy?”

“Yes Clarence, that is exactly what I want to do. Would you feel better if I let you see the design?” asked Slim.

“No I don’t want to see your design as a matter of fact I don’t want to see you anymore I need to get back to my work. Thanks for coming by.”

“But what about my tattoo?” asked Slim.

“I don’t care about your tattoo, you can’t just give me a note that says you get to tattoo a dead guy and I just let you go do it.”

“Yeah but I have to do it, I’ve been paid and I gave my word to Mister Spinner that I’d give him his last tattoo when he died.” Said Slim.

“Don’t know what to tell you, but you are going to need to get a court order or a cop or some official person to tell me you can do it. Otherwise the only way you are going to see Mister Spinner is by coming tomorrow before we drop him in the ground over at Potter’s Field. Sorry it’s out of my hands Slim.”

With that Clarence closed the door and left Slim alone on the front porch of Jabbs’ Funeral Home. Slim rubbed his face and took in the view of the Colorado foothills to his right.

The only vehicle in the parking other than the Hurst was Slim’s old Panhead. Slim stowed his gear bag on the bike, fired it up and headed back in the direction of the little dive bar he had noticed on his way into town.

The Last Tattoo.

I have begun work on a new fiction book I call the Last Tattoo. From time to time I will post some of the book as I work on it, so today is the first sample of the book.

 

The door swung open to reveal what could perhaps be best described as a very tall and anorexic Santa Clause, or maybe a non-green bearded Praying Mantis.

Slim’s limbs were quit Mantis religiosa in appearance. His hands held slightly higher than his elbows and the slouch in his stance allowed his elbows to fall nearly to his hips. An equipment box of some sort was held tightly in his right hand and his left hand still hovered near the door in case another knock was needed.

“Yes, may I help you?” asked Clarence.

Clarence was dressed in scrubs and still had a surgical glove on his left hand, a pair of mounted magnifying glasses strapped to his forehead.

“Yes” said Slim. “My name is Slim and I am here to see Mister James Spinner.”

Clarence rolled his left wrist toward his eyes and glanced at his watch.

“I am sorry…Slim, but there is no viewing of our guests after hours, and as we closed more than half an hour ago you will need to come back tomorrow.” Clarence stepped back and grabbed the door.

Slim stepped forward and slowed the door as it moved toward him.

“I’m sorry Mister?”

“Mister Jabbs, Clarence Jabbs.” Said Clarence,

“Mister Jabbs, but I’m not here to actually visit Mister Spinner, I am here to work on Mister Spinner.”

“Work on Mister Spinner? I what sense are you going to work on Mister Spinner? This is my business I don’t allow other people to come in here and work Mister Slim.”

“Just Slim, no Mister please.” Said Slim.

“Okay Slim, look you can’t work on Mister Spinner. I have no idea who you are and besides Mister Spinner is unclaimed. The county will only pay the bare minimum for services on him, so whatever it was you wanted to do you can’t nobody will pay for it.”

“That is fine Clarence. You see I have already been paid for my services and that is precisely why I am here, because I have already been paid.” Said Slim.

“Exactly what is it that you want to do Slim?” asked Clarence.

Slim swung his left hand like a gun slinger down to his pants pocket and withdrew a slip of paper, he trust it at Clarence.

“That is the last request of Mister Spinner and I am here to carry it out.”

Clarence pulled the paper apart and read.

“A tattoo, I’m supposed to let you tattoo dead guy?”

“Yes Clarence, that is exactly what I want to do. Would you feel better if I let you see the design?” asked Slim.

“No I don’t want to see your design as a matter of fact I don’t want to see you anymore I need to get back to my work. Thanks for coming by.”

“But what about my tattoo?” asked Slim.

“I don’t care about your tattoo dude, you can’t just give me a note that says you get to tattoo a dead guy and I just let you go do it.”

“Yeah but I have to do it, I’ve been paid and I gave my word to Mister Spinner that I’d give him his last tattoo when he died.” Said Slim.

“Don’t know what to tell you man, but you are going to need to get a court order or a cop or some official person to tell me you can do it. Otherwise the only way you are going to see Mister Spinner is by coming tomorrow before we drop him in the ground over at Potter’s Field. Sorry it’s out of my hands Slim.”

With that Clarence closed the door and left Slim alone on the front porch of Jabbs’ funeral home. Slim rubbed his face and took in the view of the Colorado foothills to his right.

The only vehicle in the parking other than the Hurst was Slim’s old Panhead. Slim stowed his gear bag on the bike, fired it up and headed back in the direction of the little dive bar he had noticed on his way into town.