Groundhog Day

6:14 AM
Dogs are fed, potty breaks are done, cleared more new snow from drive and porches.
Garbage out to the street, coffee ingested.  Now what.  I am stuck inside my holiday break and I can't seem to get out.  This is supposed to be fun.  Maybe when Joe gets home we will go rabbit hunting.  I would like to take them deer hunting.  Neither one has got a deer this year.  I will figure something out. 

If only I were here.

Sea Club I

Gulf of Mexico, Florida

Bored

7:36 AM Sunday morning.  Got up at 5:30 with the dogs.  Breakfast served potty breaks complete.  Driveway and porches cleared of snow.  Potty path shoveled through the grass for wife to walk on during her turn.  Chapter finished on new story.  8 cups of coffe down the hatch.  Remi down for a nap, Gunner lounging on couch.  Momma still sleeping.  Now What?
I cold have went hunting.  It is late doe season.  Not really into it today.  Would have been a nice morning.  We had a couple inches of fresh snow last night and the wind is slight.  Oh well.  Remi is whining so I guess I'll put the potty path to use again.  The dogs never get tried of going outside.

Here is a clip out of a newspaper.  Not sure where but they need to have their water tested.  Dumbass!!!!!!!!

Christmas Day

Christmas Day was another good holiday for us.  Everybody got what they wanted.  We are very fortunate to be able to provide our children with what they want as well as what they need.  Sometimes this holiday becomes selfish and monetary. 
We went to Grandma and Grandpas for dinner.  The food was great.  A big spiral sliced ham and cheesy potatos to name a few items.  Here are some pictures of the kids and the other kids.

It was a gag gift!  We needed one anyways.

Kaitlin got some scented hand sanitizers.(she doesn't llike germs)

Both kids recieved clothes and socks and such.  The dogs were on the prowl.

They didn't know what was going on but were excited nonetheless.

Remi was a big help!!!!!!

Mamma got a gander Mountain shirt

A little help unwrapping never hurt

My hat and shirt ensemble

Remi just couldn't handle all the excitment and decided to watch from the couch.

Even Gunner took a break.  He is using the next step up as a head rest.

It was a good Christmas.  As I type this morning the dogs are spreadinng the remnants of the tissue paper and gift boxes throughout the living room.

The fun never ends.  Hope you all had a good Christmas.

Christmas Tree Shopping

Went out last weekend and picked out our X-mas tree.  We went to Charlies Tree Farm in Dimondale.
I was looking for a fir tree this year as the family was tired of getting "picked" by
our usual blue spruce.
As soon as we got out of the car a friend drove by on his tractor.  This is Mike.  Mike's uncle is Charlie.  Charlie owns the tree farm.Mike helps out on the weekends.  During the week he and I are busy building firetrucks.

I must confess.  Charlies Tree Farm has the best damn selection of Frasier firs I

have ever seen.  From the moment we hit the section it was nothing but.

"That's a nice one",  "that's a nice one too", "Look theres a really good one"

I was half tempted to get back in the car and go to another tree farm where the trees weren't as nice.  It would have made it easier to decide on a good one.LOL

Mama is all bundled up.  It was a nice day actually.  30 degrees and clear blue skies.

The snow had just come off the trees the day before so we didn't have to try and choose though a covering on the branches.

Joe and Kaitlin goofing off.  We seen a lady laying on the ground cutting down her christmas tree and I joked to the kids about what her reaction would be if I laid down on the other side of the tree and started cutting.  The whole time saying,"Kids I found the perfect tree come look".  It was quite funny.  I can only imagine what she would have done.

We found our perfect tree and put Kaitlin to work sawing it down.

Joe and I stood by with helpful tips and guidance on how best to cut a tree down.

It takes at least three people to cut down a christmas tree.  One to cut it and the other two acting like they are choking each other for the camera.  I think we had it down pat.

Kaitlin did such a good job cutting down the tree that we let her drag it back to the barn as well.  What??????

Here is Mike again.  After shaking the tree to remove dead needles and such they run it

through a baling machine that ties it up nice and neat.  Makes for easy transport.

At home in the stand but still tied.

Untied.  Notice the silver color on the bottom side of the needles and the blue/green on top.  Very pretty tree.  I recomend this type to all. 

Now to decorate it. I think everybody was too tired or too busy because I ended up doing it all myself.

Not too shabby.

3 more days of work and then I'm off for 12 days.

Sorry I haven't posted more.  I've been busy on another story.  Jap Juice took up most of my posts.  I hope you liked it.  The next story will not be wrote on here.  I may publish it on here when it's finished.  Not sure.  I don't get any comments or feedback on anything so I'm not too sure how well jap Juice was received.  I don't want to bore you with another of my stories.

Until next time!!!!!!!!

ps.  Remy is now 10 weeks and what a ham.  He looks like Marley and acts like him too.

Early Christmas Present

Christmas came early this year.  In the shape of an eight week old puppy.
Say hello to Remington Scout.

He is an AKC registered Yellow Lab.

and usually very tired or very rowdy.

Rowdy pictures are hard to take.

Remy as we call him,  is always by Gunners side.  They have become virtually

inseperable.  They love to take naps.

Should blend in well with the cornfields next goose season.

Jap Juice Chapter 11

Chapter 11
The Ending


    The snow was coming down hard when I left the hospital.  The radio weatherman had said that storm totals were to exceed 12 inches and winds were to top 35 miles per hour.  I could hardly see the road and I crept along at speeds my Grandmother would have called slow.  I was in a daze and trying to make sense of the things that had just transpired.  I don't remember how I ended up there but soon I was pulling into the drive that used to be my grandparents.  The buildings were being torn down and the property was being turned into a subdivision. 
   Through the blinding snow I could make out the excavators and the bulldozers lined up like soldiers.  Waiting for Monday and the chance to finish their demolition.  As I pulled up to the wire which was strung across the drive I killed the engine.  The snow was even more intense then before and I could barely make out the outline of the barn roof through it.  I knew what I had to do.  My mind screamed at me to get in the Jeep and just drive away and forget.  Forget like I had for so many years already.  But I knew deep inside me that those memories would haunt me till the day I died.  How many nights did I want to wake up screaming because I had just seen a creature wrap it's hand around Jack's face and drag him through a hole the size of a basketball.  I had read the journal while in the hospital and I was begining to understand the whole thing.
   As I walked through the blowing and drifting snow towards the barn I could envision the barrels falling from the planes as they flew over the hill top.  Upon impact the barrels burst and Hell was unleashed.  They had found a way to use pure evil against their enemies.  The screaming they had heard and the way the bodies were strewn about.  I knew that is what had happened.  A nightmare unleashed in an already nightmarish landscape.  Only a handful of Marines had the courage to stand up to what is truly right and hide the remaining barrels.  Until now that is.  Until Jack.  Now I had to end it forever.
   I entered the bottom of the barn and stood in the middle of the now empty floor.  The old dirt was gone replaced by concrete.  Now I finally knew why.  After a minute had passed I could feel a vibration in the floor.  As it increased I could hear the whup whup of the propeller shaft again, like so many years before.  It was calling me.  I wanted to run but I couldn't.  I was Jack now and I had to reap.  I zeroed in on the humming.  Strange enough it was coming from the same area my Father had buried that woodchuck long ago.  In my hands I clutched a sledge hammer.  A worker had left it propped against the dozer in a hurry to leave for the weekend I presumed.  More then likeley it was fate that had left it there for me to find.
I raised it high above my head and slammed it into the concrete.  A dull thud sounded and concrete chips flew into my face.  Again and again I smashed the hammer into the concrete.  The more I smashed the louder the humming became.
     I wiped the sweat from my face and pulled the last piece of concrete out of the way.  It had taken over an hour to break through the concrete and I was drained.  I dropped to my knees and wiped the dirt away revealing a cold hard steel surface.  The third barrel.  The one that held what was left of Jack's soul.  I knew he was trapped in there.  I had to let him out.  I had to let them all out.  I would die but they would as well. 
As I swung the hammer one last time I whispered to grandad.  I promise.

Jap Juice Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Promise

    There are things in life that one remembers because he or she wants too.  Birthday Parties, a first car, weddings and such.  The mind naturally floats towards these events because they are pleasant.  Our subconcious keeps us away from things that are destructive. Bad memories for example.  Or should I say horrible memories.  Not terrible ones.  Terrible is what happens to other people.  "Did you hear what happened to so and so?  It's a terrible tragedy".   Horrible is what happens to you.  Horrible is a sick word.  Just speaking it is the begining of vomiting.  Think about it. 
   That is how I woke up.  I was in the hospital and had been in a coma for nearly three days.  My ear drums had been ruptured and I had an ugly aching on the back side of my head.  I didn't remember a thing. 
My Father was there along with my Grandad.  I asked what had  happened and why I was in the hospital.
They told me that on the previous Saturday, in the middle of the night,  Jack and I had presumably snuck from the house and that we had been assaulted on the way to wherever we were going and Jack was still missing.  They had hit me on the head with something like a baseball bat and probably thought I was dead.  That was why they left me.  They had kidnapped Jack and he was still yet to be found.
    That was how it went in a nutshell anyways.  The police showed up and asked me a million questions, of which I had no answer to any of them.  A psychiatrist visited me to make sure I was "stable" and ok to go home.  A few friends from school even showed up to say hi.  One brought me homework.  I wasn't at all thrilled to see him.  I still didn't remmeber a thing.  I was in that hospital for a week and not one thing popped into my sore skull.  The last thing I remembered was eating dinner, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. 
   That was how it went for many years.  Jack was never found, the kidnappers never surfaced and everything eventually went back to normal.  I graduated high school in 1992.  Went to a local college for two years then transferred to a university.  My Grandad paid every cent of my tuition.  Said it was a gift and to use it wisely.
   It was middle of the year 1996 when Grandad fell ill.  Seems the rhumatoid had been chased away by cancer.  It was bad.  He was doing chemotherapy and killing his body to make it better.  I was in my 4th year of college and just couldn't find the time to go and see him.  It went on that way for most of the latter half of that year.  One late November day I recieved a phone call from my father.  I could tell by his voice he had been crying.  He told me Grandad didn't have long to live and that I needed to go and see him.  He had been asking for me the past few days I guess.  So I let my professors know I would be gone a few days and packed a duffel bag with a few items and hit the road in my beat up old Jeep.  It was a two hour drive to home from college and I was lost in my own reflections about Grandad. A sleety snow had started to spit from the cold November sky. 
  The parking lot of the hospital was covered in a thin skiff of icy snow when I arrived.  I felt the rear of the Jeep slide a bit when I hit the brakes and turned into the parking lot.  I killed the engine and began the long trek across the lot.  It was cold and windy and the sky was blue gray.  Snow sky we called it.  The wind was out of the north and it bit into your face.  I could feel my cheeks turning red as the blood rushed to keep them warm.  I reached the door and brushed the snow from my jacket, shivering as I entered the glassed in entrance to the hospital.  It was four in the afternoon.  I checked with the girl at the desk and she gave me Grandads room number.  He was in the oncology ward.  Past the gift shop and take a left.  Down the hall till it tees and take a right.  She spelled it out so matter of factly and I wondered how she dealt with it every day.  Death, dying, suffering.  I wondered if that's how I would go out of this world.  Past the gift shop to the left? or to the right:?
  When I reached Grandads room he was alone.  He looked awful.  So thin.  So tired.  Skin streched over bone.  I thought he looked like those people in the Nazi concentration camps we had learned about in history class back in high school.  I wondered how he could still be alive and look the way he did.  I sat in the chair by the window and watched him sleep.  His sunken chest barely rising.  Outside the snow swirled and beat against the window.  Filling up the corners.  The snow was picking up in intensity and I could barely make out the employee parking lot on the backside of the hospital.  The chair was made of some cheap vinyl and I kept sliding forward in it. I turned from the window to look at Grandad and he was watching me.  Eyes wide open.
   "Come over here ", he whispered.  I scooted my slippery chair next to his bed and was about to ask him how he was doing when he held up his hand.  The hand said hush so I just looked at him.  We sat there for a few long minutes.  I think he was gathering his strength to speak.  When he finally spoke it came in a rush.   He seemed to know that his time was limited and he needed to speak quick.  I leaned closer as he spoke and I can  remember the oversaturation of memories and emotions that I felt.  The more he spoke the more I remembered.  And the less I wanted too.  He told me everything.  Where it came from and who had made it.  Why they hid it and how he forgot about it.  Tears flowed form his eyes when he mentioned Jack.  He told me how he had plugged the barrel temporarily and how he and Verlin had buried them in the dirt under the barn and then poured concrete over it. 
   He talked fast and I could hear the beep of his heart monitor picking up pace and I began to worry.  When he finally stopped speaking he motioned to hand me his Bible on the nightstand.  He opened it up and pulled from it a small envelope.  He handed me the envelope and said in a clear strong voice.
"You are the keeper now', 'promise me you will never let it out."
"I promise", I said. 
Then just like that he died.  I was so shocked and scared at that point I never even cried.  I pressed the nurses call button and as I waited for her I opened the envelope.  In it was the pages from the dead marines journal.  And as death took my grandad away to his final resting place I read.

Jap Juice Chapter 9

Chapter 9
The Opening   

I sat up and listened.  Perhaps Jack was taking a leak.  I strained my ears for the slightest sound.  All I heard was the tick tock of Grandmas cat clock hanging on the kitchen wall.  It's tail wagging back and forth with each seconds passing.  When a new hour passed he would stick his toungue out at you and meow the hour.  I felt that familiar pang in my stomache that I had been feeling all weekend.  It rose up and into my throat and I thought I would be sick.  I knew where he was.  I just hoped I didn't know what he was doing.
    Quickly and quietly I threw on my shorts and sneakers and crept down the hall.  Jack must have been very sneaky to get out of the house without waking any one.  Old people are notorious for waking up at the slightest sound.  When I reached the door I paused and contemplated my exit.  I knew the door squeaked when it reached a certain point on it's outward journey.  It was a rather loud squeak and on an ordinary day, unnoticeable.  When trying to sneak out of the house to stop your sadistic friend from possibly killing himself, a dull roar.  I looked up at the cat clock on the wall.  His tail wagging, each second, swish, swish, as if telling me time is running out.  It was then I realized it was almost three in the morning.  The cat would begin to meow in two more minutes.  I would make my exit and hope the sound would cover up the squeak.
   At precisley three am the cat began to meow, and in the erie silence of early dawn it was a horrible sound.  The meow became a moan and it sounded like death being stretched out and scraped over sandpaper.  I held my breath and pushed open the door just as the cat death called.  Outside I quickly shut the door, squeak in perfect tempo with the last of the three cat calls.  I crossed the wooden planks on the deck on tip toe for fear of a loose board which would also give away my awol status.  Off the deck I ran across the lawn sprinting for the barn.  The barn was only about a hundred yards away but I just couldn't run fast enough.  The dream of trying to outrun the monster had finally come true.  My legs jsut wouldn't move fast enough and I was bogged down.  The difference was I was running towards my monster and it woould catch me only because I was running straight into it's mouth.
     When I reached the barn I stopped.  I didn't want to confront Jack.  If he was sneaking down here in the middle of the night then he was definatley in one of his moods.  I was sure there was no way I could get him and myself back into the house without being caught.  If we got caught without Grandad figuring out what we were doing down here then I could accept that and whatever punishment would be forthcoming.  I just wanted this weekend over and I guessed my friendship with Jack would probably be over.  I wasn't cut out to hang with him, it was too much work.
   I peaked around the corner just in time to see the hammer claws smashing into the top of the third barrel.  The one we never got to check.  The flashlight had been propped up to shine on the top of the barrel and it created a shadow on the back wall of the barn.  The shadow was huge and it featured a boy, grossly misshapen, with a hammer in his hands.  The hammer looked like a sickle and I couldn't help but think that he looked like the grim reaper.  The claws of the hammer had just punctured the barrel piercing the skin in two small spots.  As Jack struggled to pull the hammer free the barrel began to move.  I saw it but I'm not sure Jack did because he continued to wrestle with the hammer.  It puffed out then returned to normal shape.  It did this several times, each time greater than the last.  It was breathing or something was trying to get out.  I froze, head peeked around the corner, I couldn't move , my eyes were glued to that barrel and it's breathing.  Jack remained clueless to the movement and the hammer began to loosen in it's death grip with the barrel.  The pulsing began to deepen and I could see the barrels sides stretching.  I tried to yell at Jack to stop but my voice just croaked.  Croaked like that damn cat on the wall in Grandmas kitchen. 
  The hammer finally pulled free and Jack tumbled backwards.  A small wisp of smoke or gas escaped form the holes.  Then the screaming began.  The sounds were terrible and I had never heard anything like it.  The barrel began to thump and shake.  The screams were coming from the holes in the top of the barrel and even though the holes were tiny the screams that came from them were immense.  It sounded as if a thousand people were trapped in there and all of them were being tortured at once.  Jack had regained his feet and stood in front of the barrel.  Oblivious to the sounds coming from the barrel.  He did not notice the moving and the thumping.   Standing there in front of the barrel his hair wild upon his head.  Blood began to trickle from his nose, then it came from his ears.  A small stream of light poured from the hole and made a small circle of light on the rafter beams.  I could see the dust motes floating in it's beam. 
The holes began to enlarge themselves, peeling open ever so slightly.  Something began to emerge from the hole something clawlike in shape.  The hole began to open more and more and still I stood, unable to move or speak.  My legs were frozen.  Jack too stood in front of the barrel unmoving.  Although now his arms were raised in a victory gesture.  He had gotten what he wanted and now it was time to reap.  Except something inside me told me Jack wasn't the reaper anymore.
   The hole was getting bigger and whatever was emerging from the hole was making steady process.  Blood was gushing from Jack's nose now and he was leaning over the barrel.  I felt blood trickling down my face and I knew mine was bleeding as well.  My ears were aching from the endless screaming.  I knew Grandad was going to hear it and would come soon.  I only hoped it was soon enough.  I couldn't help Jack and Grandad was the only hope to end all this.  I wanted my cocoa and I would give anything to hear Mr. Gumbel on the TV again.  I just needed to wake up.  It was all a dream.  It had to be.  This did not happen in ordinary life.  This was the stuff  bred only from the imagination of a child and forced into the terrible shape of a nightmare.
   The screaming stopped.  It stopped just as suddenly as it began.  Only now, the light beam emerging from the hole was the size of a basketball.  The thing had retreated and I thought maybe it was over when the clawshaped thing attached to something that resembled an arm shot from the barrel and grabbed Jack by the face.  I could see worms or maggots moving in and out of the flesh on it's appendage.  The claw end had wrapped itself around Jack's head, long finger like tentacles snuck around the back and sank into his scalp securing their hold.  I heard a muffled scream from Jack and I felt a warm flush of fluid down my leg.  Jack began to struggle and only succeeded in pulling the thing out of the barrel even farther.  His screamed harder and harder and though muffled by the claw thing I knew instantly where I had heard that scream before..  Jack managed to pull the thing free from his face but the tentacles that had wrapped around the back of his head were firmly implanted.  There were small tubes coming from the claw that were attached to his eyes.  They were consuming them and what was left was dangling from the end of the tubes as if attached by suction cups.  Jack stumbled and the thing regained it's grip and began to draw him closer to the barrel.  Closer to the hole.  Just as Jacks head was pulled into the hole in the barrel, blocking the light and sending the dust motes dancing to where they had come from, I screamed.  I dropped to my knees and watched in horror as Jacks body was drawn onto the hole.  I could hear the bones snapping as the body was forced to conform to the size of the hole.  I began to feel dizzy and as I watched his legs disappear into the now gory blood soaked hole in the barrel.  Grandad appeared and shoved me aside and the last thing I remember was Grandad pounding something into the hole.  Shutting it, closing the entrance just as Jack's bloody Nikes' disappeared into it.

Jap Juice Chapter 8

Chapter 8
The Plan


    Of all the things in the world how could he possibly forget about the barrels.  They had been given to him to hide and protect and he had forsaken his vow.  His belly rolled at the thought of what might happen if they were opened.  His grandson's friend had given him quite a scare when he mentioned them at dinner tonight.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid", he cursed himself.  They must be taken care of immediatley.  He had left the dinner table early and called his one true friend. 
    Verlin Buchey was at the VFW as ususal.  He drank a bit more than he ought to but he was reliable.  Not once in 50 years of friendship had Verlin let him down. They had both been  in the war and shared a common bond.  Verlin was there to help him start his business after they had returned home.  He told Verlin to sit tight and he would be right down.  He could use a stiff drink right about now.
    As he entered the parking lot he noticed the place was running on empty.  Strange for a Saturday night.  It was ususally crawling with old vets swilling beer and adding on to their war tales that had grown, who knows how long after 40 years.  The place was dim and the smoke lingered at eye level.  He snorted.  The smoke tickled his nose and reminded him of his 2 pack a day habit that had almost killed him.  He had been tobacco free for 9 years now.  The only guilt he felt was a long fine cigar he occasionally smuggled,  out of sight of his wife.  Of course she smelled it so he always made it a point to stop here before he went home to disguise the smell with cheap beer and cigarette smoke.
   Tonight there was only 5 other patrons.  One sat at the bar nursing a scotch.  Two were seated at the table nearest the juke box and appeared to be engaged in a game of checkers.  Two more were seated at the table by the bingo ball machine.  The thing looked like a giant gumball machine and he wished they would at least cover it up when it wasn't bingo night.  The thing drove him nuts.  Every time he saw it he was reminded of the time Margaret talked him into bingo night.  He was seated in this very room surrounded by a hundred nags.  Each one hovered over their bingo boards like a child hiding his precious test papers from the kid in the next row.  It was confusing and he had a hard time following the numbers.  As the evenening pressed on he was able to follow better and won the 8th drawing of the night and was presented with multiple evil eye stares and quiet curses from the addicts around him.  He never played again.
    At this table sat Verlin accompanied by Frank Coscarelli.  Frank had been around longer than his self or Verlin and was friendly to most.  However he was Italian and very prone to anger if the wrong  joke snuck out.  Which was hard to do because most jokes have Italians, Jews or Polocks in them.  He sat down and ordered a Jack and Coke,"lite on the Coke", he told the barkeep.  "How are ya Frank?", he asked.
"Square as the first wheel", he answered.  "I was just waitin for you to get here so I could go home", he said.
"Didn't want to leave Frenchy here on his own ", he smirked.  "Might start drinking wine or something".
At that he quietly stood up and left the table.  He was followed out the door by a simple,"Wop ya later", administered by Verlin.
     " So what 's goin on that brings you here on a Saturday night when I know sweet little Margaret has something on the supper table?", he asked me.  "I need your help", I told him.
     He then proceeded to tell him about how he was left in charge of the empty barrels from the war and how we, the remaining members of sixth platoon, had  smuggled them all the way back from Indochina.  He told him there was an awful chemical or something in those barrels and we were afraid to let them back into the wrong hands.  We had picked them up en route to Saipan and the outpost where they had been created had been bombed by the Japs.  Nothing remained of the site except the barrels on board ship.  We were afraid that the government might be able to copy the horrific contents.  We  made a pact on that island to never let them fall into the wrong hands.
Verlin asked  why they had been just sitting in the barn for all these years.  He explained that he had meant to take care of them but when he returned stateside the first thing he did was hide them.  The second thing
he did, and perhaps the most dangerous, was to forget them.  Now they were in the open again.  Almost calling, begging to be opened.  He knew that two of them were empty but the third contained a small amount left in the bottom of the barrel.  He didn't know what type of damage they could do but he didn't want to find out.  We discussed different ideas on how to get rid of them.  Only one truly stuck in our head and we agreed to start on it tomorrow morning.  He finished his drink and bid farewell to Verlin.