In this blog:
Viva la Crypt
A Note from Joy
BOOB Girls and The Senile Squad for your groups
New Offers in The BOOB Girl Series
Viva La Crypt-Memories from BOOB IV
Murder at Meadow Lakes
Robinson Leary was on her way to get her mail – a simple, everyday task – when she passed the big office of Alphonso Greatwood, owner of Meadow Lakes. Low voices and laughter came through the big, wooden double doors. The doors were closed.
She stopped, looked around, and seeing no one was in sight, put her ear to the door.
“Robbie would never tell you this, Man,” Wiley Vondra was saying.
Robbie could tell they were talking to Raven Five Horns, her significant other. He had left their apartment mid-morning, saying he was going for coffee and that meant Wiley and Alphonso. And there they were, Man. Robbie thought how seldom men used first names. While she would say, “Hey Mary Rose, or What do you mean, Hadley, or What next, Marge?” men would just call each other, ‘Man’ or nothing at all. Women just do better with friends and out-communicate men all over the place
The next thing she heard, surprised her.
“We robbed a bar,” Alphonso laughed.
Robbie remembered. Now that she and the other girls were plotting on how to spy on the old cabin that supposedly contained four witches and Zoomer Schmeel, it was bringing back memories of the good old days. Wiley and Alphonso had been bored, decided robbing the weird bar owned by the creepy funeral director, Morgan Graves, would be an adventure.
Robbie thought about the bar, Viva la Crypt, a morbid place indeed. The drinks were good, and the pub grub drew a crowd. The menu flashed into her head. The usual Bloody Mary, Scotch on the rocks was called, ‘Embalming Fluid,’ Margaritas were called ‘Undertakers’ and beer was, ‘the Walking Dead.’ Small bones served as stirrers and burgers and fries were, ‘slabs and bones.’ Fun place.
She leaned against the crack between the doors and listened.
“So,” Alphonso said, “I had a gun and a bag to put the money in and I was new here, so they didn’t know me. I hadn’t even had a beer there, yet,”
The three behind the doors, chuckled.
“And I wore a ball cap and a mask,” Wiley added.
“Then we screwed up big time,” Alphonso said. “I’d had a few concussions playing football and while this was exciting as hell, it scared the crap out of me. So, I wheeled into the bar, went up to Moezy Liam, the bartender…”
“She was there all alone,” Wiley put in.
“And with a real threatening voice I said, ‘Hands up mothersticker!! This is a fu**kup!’ and I hand her the gun!”
Laughter and heehawing behind the door.
‘Then Alphonso gets all polite and asks her for the gun back,” Wiley said.
“She doesn’t give it back,” Alphonso said, taking over the story again, “She points is at the ceiling and fires a shot!”
“It goes through the ceiling and breaks a vase in the apartment above the bar,” Wiley said.
“And the cat that was there dived under the bed and they couldn’t get it out for a week!” Alphonso said. There was a grin in his voice. Guffawing. Someone slapped a table and laughed loudly. Wiley.
Robbie moved away and began walking again down the hall. She remembered it well. Hadley had called Wes Longbow, her love, who was a retired sheriff and he came to see if they needed rescuing, but it was Moezy Liam who lived in the apartment, and she refused to press charges. She had recognized Wiley right away and had heard about Alphonso, who ended up supplying the cat with a year’s worth of premier cat food.
Memories. Wes Longbow – Hadley’s love – dead these many years now.
Viva the Crypt – still drawing beer she imagined.
Moezy Liam, which sounded like, “Mausoleum.”
And they would soon we visiting four witches – Mildred, Myrtle, Mabel and Fred and maybe finding Zoomer Schmeel.
(To be continued)
A NOTE FROM JOY
Brick Streets and Broken Windows
This town I used to call home
The magnificent depot was still there
I had watched troop trains stop there
During World War II
Sitting in the back seat of my father’s Plymouth
With a stick shift
A little girl, fascinated at young men hanging out of train windows
Waving at us
The post office was there
Where my dad had worked
I had put my fingers through holes in boxes to touch baby chicks
Soft and downy headed for farms
We drove down the beautiful brick streets
Looking at where important things had been
My high school was there in that vacant lot
My house was there in that vacant lot
The old hospital was there, where that apartment house is
The library is there
Unable to get the money to expand
Look at the houses with the broken widows
Look at the porch overloaded with junk
Look at that one falling in on itself
Look at the highway
All the businesses have moved there
Alongside a Walmart
Leaving the town old, tired, run down, washed out
It was my 66th high school class reunion
There were ten of us there
Old, tired, sad at hearing about all the illness and death
The disappearance of so many others
In a class that had numbered 100
Chris LeGrow is a retired Omaha cop. He is also an author. He wrote two books that are like siblings – friendly ones – to The BOOB Girls.
The Senile Squad
Da Broad Squad
Chris and I met, visited well together, and designed a presentation called,
WRITING ABOUT OLD PEOPLE,
FOR OLD PEOPLE.
Chris and I perch on two barstools and involve the audience in conversation.
We talk about being old people writing about old people – our characters, what it’s like to be creative, how smart, clever and powerful old people are. His Ol’ Blues (retired cops) compliment my Girls (Old Broads) and we have a lot of healthy talk and a lot of laughter.
If you are in the Omaha area, and want us for your group, call ne at 402-639-2939.
We’re doing this for fun and our fee is being able to make our books available to your group. We’ll also let you know when we appear at places where you can drop in. We drink coffee while we do this, so join us for a cup, a hug, and a laugh.
Send check to Joy Brown at
8141 Farnam St
, #322, Omaha, NE 68114