The Rock

Charles Joseph Reynolds, affectionately known as CJ to his friends, was having a bad day.

A very bad day.

It started innocently. He woke up at 6:30 to get ready for work. He was a little late, but nothing unusual.

After showering and dressing, he did his usual OCD check before leaving for work.

“Coffee? Check. Laptop? Check. Lunch? Check. Cell phone? Check.”

He looked down at his zipper. “Fly closed? Check.”

He exited the front door of his apartment and realized he didn’t have his wallet.

“Ugh.” Frustrated, he ran back in and accidentally spilled some coffee on his shirt.

He looked at the shirt in disgust. Now he was going to be late.

“I got this. Change my shirt, grab my wallet and go.” He calmly put everything on the dining room table then moved swiftly towards his bedroom.

Too swiftly. “MEOWR!” The poor cat, Max, screeched as he stepped on its tail. Startled, the 6’1” CJ went flying in one direction and the cat in the other.

He composed himself and tried to find poor Max who was cowering and hiding somewhere in his 600 sq. foot apartment.

After a couple of minutes ofsearching, he looked at his watch and gave up. He was officially running late for work. “Sorry, Max. You still have 8 lives.”

He grabbed his wallet, the rest of his belongings off the dining room table and raced out the door.

“Holy shit. I can’t be late for work.” All composure had gone out the window. He was now running to his car.

He opened the passenger door of his Camry, threw his lunch and laptop on the floor then realized he hadn’t changed his shirt.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He ripped opened the driver side door and started the car. He now had 10 minutes to make it to work and make his 8 o’clock meeting with his boss, Mr. Sharpley, a stickler for punctuality. Unfortunately, the drive took 20 minutes and that was on a good day.

“No problem.” He’d take a different route, he thought to himself. “Just pop on the navigator and take a faster route.”

But the navigator wouldn’t connect.

He slammed the steering wheel. “Holy Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Reynolds looked in the rear-view mirror then slammed on the gas and sped away.

CJ was driving 70 on a 35-mph speed limit street. He had no choice. He had 8 minutes to avoid being late for a meeting about why he was always late. Oh, the irony.

The sad thing was he was a good worker—smart, good with numbers and an excellent communicator with both clients and upper-level management. But for some reason he was continually late for meetings. And those are just the ones he remembered to attend.

His smooth personality, good looks and good sense of humor bailed him out several times. But none of that impressed Sharpley.

He glanced at the clock. 3 minutes to go. He ran the red light at Murphy. “I can do this.”

Suddenly, a large black object flew in through the window and landed on his lap.

Startled, he screamed, swerved, and cut off a Ford F-150 that veered off the road. He pulled to the shoulder and threw open the door.

It was an enormous bug. He sighed then smacked it out of the car.

“A freakin bug. That’s one story I’m keeping to myself.” He heaved a sigh of relief.

The relief faded quickly as the driver of the F-150 pulled behind him and raced out of his car with a crowbar in hand.

The man was enormous and angry. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he screamed.

But CJ wasn’t sticking around for the man to find out. He slammed the door shut, hit the gas and drove away.

He checked the rear-view mirror. The crazy man threw down the crowbar in disgust as CJ sped away.

#

CJ had to act fast and pulled into the parking lot adjacent to his company’s. He hated what he did next but had to do it.

He opened the trunk of his car and grabbed the tire iron. He then walked around to the front of the car and smashed the driver side of his car—headlight, fender, the works.

Sharpley couldn’t reprimand or fire him if he got into a car accident.

CJ’s cell phone rang. It was Sharpley. He answered.

“Where are you, Reynolds?” Sharpley asked.

“Got into a car accident. Whole front engine is damaged. But it’s drivable; I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Sharpley’s tone changed. “You okay?”

CJ continued with his academy-award winning performance. “Yeah, I’m fine. A little shaken up, but okay.”

“Take your time. We can do the meeting whenever you get here.”

“Thanks, see you in a few, Mike.”

CJ messed his hair up a little for show and drove to his own company’s lot then headed to Sharpley’s office.

#

“Come on in, CJ.”

CJ sat across from his boss.

Sharpley shuffled some papers. “You seem okay. How’s the car?”

“Front end damage. Some F-150 came out of nowhere.” Reynolds sighed then continued. “Maybe a couple grand worth of damage.”

“That’s a shame.” Sharpley stared at Reynolds for a moment.

“I hate to have this talk with you after your accident, but it’s been coming for a while.”

Sharpley paused then delivered the bad news. “I’m giving Cara Ovington the Milsap account.”

CJ’s heart sank. “My biggest account. Why?”

CJ knew why. Cara was everything he wasn’t—reliable, punctual, and proactive on every detail.

However, he had a great rapport with the Milsap team. And he wanted a chance to emphasize that and fight for his account.

Before Sharpley could speak, CJ moved to the edge of his chair and interjected. “Those guys love me. They keep coming back because of me.”

“Cara is at every Milsap meeting before you’re there. She knows everything about them. When I have a question about the Milsap account, I go to her because I can’t find you.

“Mike, that was one time.”

“3 times but who’s counting.” Sharpley flashed a sardonic grin.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Sharpley paused and scratched his graying, beard stubble. “Get your act together. You’ve got incredible talent but you’re not reliable.” In an almost fatherly tone, he continued, “Work on yourself. Get that part of your life straightened out and then we’ll put you back on a big account.” He pumped his fist.

CJ was seething internally but outwardly stoic.

Sharpley handed him a folder. “Work on the James account with Friedman.”

CJ rolled his eyes. “You want me to be a junior account rep? That’s how I started with this company. That’s insane.”

“It’s temporary. I believe in you, Charles. This is just a minor setback.”

CJ grabbed the file and left.

#

Dylan Augustine and CJ were best friends since college. The pair were college roommates and pledged the same fraternity.

No longer roommates, they lived just a few blocks apart.

Though they both had a love for partying and practical jokes, Dylan’s apartment captured the main difference between the pair—organization. Dylan knew where everything was and everything had its proper place.

“I know. I’m taking my shoes off and leaving them by the front door.”

CJ sighed then took his shoes off. “Do I get a cookie for taking my shoes off without having to be reminded?”

“How about a beer?” Dylan tossed him a Corona.

“Thanks.” He took a swig then continued. “Do you believe I have to work with Frank Friedman? He color codes his account notes.” CJ laughed.

“You mean he’s organized?”

“Sorry, bro.”

“It’s fine. Listen, did you put your shoes at least 6 feet to the right of the door so no one trips on them?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

DJ burst out laughing. “Of course. I’m not that bad.”

DJ was a bit of smartass, another reason they got along so well.

“I want to show you something.”

#

Dylan came back from his room with a large rock which he promptly plunked on the dining room table.

“I know you had a rough day. “

“So… you brought me a rock?” CJ said dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s not an ordinary rock. I got it in Greece and it has healing and other powers.”

CJ chuckled. “And how much did the mystical rock cost the naive, American tourist with a pocket full of cash?”

“Nothing. This old guy just gave it to me.”

“Really?

“He said you hold it and chant, almost like a Buddhist chant, and then your wishes come true.”

Confused, CJ just stared at Dylan. “Okay.”

“I know you’re skeptical, but it works. I wished for a new job and a few months later—bam. It happened.”

“Or maybe you applied and had a good interview….”

“I beat out over 100 candidates.”

CJ acquiesced. “Fine, hand over the stupid rock. Now what do I have to do?”

Dylan taught him the chant then left him by himself.

“I don’t believe this shit for one second, but what the hell.” CJ closed his eyes and started chanting and wishing for his accounts back.

Ten minutes later Dylan came back.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve just bonded with a rock.”

Dylan smiled. “Smartass. Want another beer?”

“That’s what I wished for! How did you know?”

Dylan shook his head.

#

The two drank a couple of beers then ordered some dinner with Grubhub.

It was always fun when CJ got together with Dylan. Dylan was his wingman in college, and they had tons of great stories.

The pair broke out laughing about their old roommate, John, who somehow got locked out of their dorm room, naked.

The doorbell interrupted the story. Dylan walked to the door. “Must be the food.”

“Thank you.” Dylan shouted to the delivery person then waited a few moments for the person to leave.

The stranger knocked on the door.

“Leave the food, please,” Dylan shouted.

The stranger knocked louder.

CJ shook his head. “Just open it. Maybe you forgot the tip or something.

Dylan opened the door and a large man shoved his way into the apartment.

CJ recognized the large angry man from the F-150 instantly.

The man snarled. “You damaged my car and almost killed me.”

Dylan stammered. “So thi…this isn’t our food?”

The man smiled then revealed the same crowbar he threw on the ground.

In an instant, he lunged at CJ and swung the crowbar.

Dylan jumped on the intruder’s back. At 160 pounds, he barely slowed the giant of a man down. But it was enough to make him miss CJ’s head.

CJ grabbed the rock and swung back and missed, cracking the rock in half on the coffee table.

The large man shook Dylan off and readied for another swing.

CJ heaved a broken half of the rock at the man’s head and connected on the man’s forehead.

The man wobbled but smiled. CJ grabbed the other half and smashed the man’s nose. The man collapsed instantly almost landing on CJ with blood dripping down his face.

“I told you that rock had powers.”

“Holy shit. Call the cops.” CJ exhaled.

#

On Monday morning, Sharpley called CJ into his office.

“How was the weekend?”

CJ lied. “The usual, nothing exciting. A dinner with an old college buddy. Geology major—into rocks. Go figure.”

“Listen, I was doing some thinking this weekend and I’m going to give you another shot with the Milsap account.”

Sharpley paused and put his hands together. “I believe in you.”

“That’s great. Thank you so much.”

CJ stood and shook his hand. “You won’t be sorry.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” Sharpley shook CJ’s hand vigorously.

#

“Bro, you’ll never guess what just happened?”

“Somebody attacked you in your office?”

“No, silly. I got my accounts back! Thanks to you and that rock. Let’s celebrate tonight. Grab the rock or what’s left of it and let’s have a couple of beers.”

“May want to rethink the rock part. Did you see what happened to Cara Ovington?”

“She lost her job?”

“You don’t know? She got into a car accident. Hit by a drunk driver. Just saw it on Facebook. Stable condition but they think she’ll be okay.”

The awkward silence underscored the seriousness of the situation.

“Holy shit. Not how I wanted to get my accounts back. Let’s get rid of that rock. EVERY. LAST. PIECE.”

“Seriously.”

CJ paused before continuing. “Do you think I’ll get all of Cara’s accounts?”

“Kidding. I hope she’s okay.”

“Too soon.”

Larsen – new story on Wattpad!

Michael Benson has gotten caught up with the wrong crowd–a gang. He tries to leave but the gang won’t let him. When he decides to run, the gang comes after him with deadly force. Only his uncle, a bail bondsman, and his uncle’s nerdy co-worker, Finch Larsen, can save him. But can Mike get to safety before the gang catches him? Read Larsen now.

Ouch!

Recently, I sat at my computer for a couple of hours pounding at the keys and cranking out some good copy. It was one of my best writing sessions in months. I was exuberant and had to share. Excitedly, I turned to my wife and stood, “Honey…. “ and everything started to hurt—my feet, knees, my back, maybe even my hair.

The pain subsided after a couple of minutes but the message was loud and clear.  At 52, no strange injury was off the table. To recap, I’ve hurt myself showering, brushing my teeth, adjusting a seat belt, sneezing, taking off boots, and combing my hair to name a few. But at least that made some sense. I was reaching, pulling, or bending in those situations. This injury resulted from the NATURAL act of standing.

“I can’t believe I hurt myself standing,” I complained to my wife and daughter.

“You’re old,” they replied without missing a beat.

I was aggravated but decided to make myself feel better through the misery of others and the help of Google.

I searched for strange injuries and bingo, hit the jackpot. I found an article about the weirdest sports injuries of all time. Best of all, these were athletes in their prime.

Did you know that former ex-major league pitcher, Joel Zumaya, hurt himself playing guitar hero? I was feeling better already.

Another former major leaguer, Ronald Bellidario, tore his throwing arm getting out of a pool and former hockey player, Dustin Penner, hurt his back reaching for pancakes. Never did that!

I could go on. Okay, maybe one more. Former major leaguer, Glenallen Hill, crashed through a plate glass table sleepwalking during a nightmare in which he was being chased by spiders. In fairness, I detest bugs and once had to pull over a car when a beetle landed in my lap. But at least it was real and the only thing that got bruised was my ego (and my throat from screaming).

Feeling rejuvenated as if I could stand pain-free all day, I approached my wife once more. I relayed a couple of the stories but she was unimpressed. “Why would you feel so bad about getting hurt? That happens to lots of people your age.”

“Ha ha.”

My wife then chastised me for feeling good about people getting hurt.

“All those people are okay.” I said. I’m not a monster.”

My wife smiled. “No, not a monster, just old.”

How Not to Raise Teenagers

When my kids were young, I realized immediately I had no clue about parenting. I decided to write a book about what I did know, How Not to Parent. Years later, I’ve come to the humbling realization that I know nothing about raising teenagers. Here’s the abridged version of “How Not to Raise Teenagers.”

1. Don’t engage them in conversation. Chances are you’ll just be an unwilling participant in an eye roll fest.
2. Don’t acknowledge them in public. Forget hugs or saying hi to their friends, park the car a block away, turn away, and act like you’ve never seen them before.
3. Don’t breathe in front of them. I kid, I think. Loud breathing will embarrass them. 
4. Don’t dance in front of them. Ever. On the positive side, you can keep it as a future threat or blackmail.
5. Don’t expect them to like your driving. Though they may have no experience of their own, expect them to criticize how you turn, park, sit, turn on the heat, the wipers, the radio, etc.
6. Don’t ask them how you look. Unlike when my wife asks, do I look fat? They will tell you. 
7. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t go into their rooms. The smell!!
8. Don’t expect them to like your cooking.  You can slave for hours and they’d rather eat a goddamn grilled cheese sandwich. Unless your cooking sucks, it’s them, not you.
9. Don’t lend them money. Just give it to them. Kiss it goodbye, you’re not getting it back. Hasta la vista.
10. Don’t touch the car radio. Your lite music or 80s playlist will just reaffirm how old you are. 
11. Don’t relive your glory days by playing sports with them. Up until, say, age 12, it’s safe to play sports with them. After that you’re just asking for injury and an embarrassing ass kicking. Stick to things like Cornhole, cards, or pool, where age and athletic ability are irrelevant.
12. Don’t go food shopping with them. You’ll end up spending twice as much money on crap you don’t need.
13. Don’t ask them if they did their homework. Check it! Would you answer honestly if you were in their shoes?
14. Don’t text in front of them. They will mock you incessantly on how slow you are while firing off multiple texts.
15. Don’t let them choose the restaurant. Your stomach will thank you later.  
16. Don’t ask them why they’re watching videos of other people playing video games. There’s no logical explanation.

What you should do… really I have no freakin’ idea. I usually just ask my wife. But I’d recommend these things. 

1. Just listen.
2. Watch what they like on TV. (Even if it’s the same shows over and over and over and over again.) 
3. Support them. 
4. Hug them, privately, so no one could ever witness it.

Jon Caruso: Spy in the Making

After 8 years of writing and re-writing, Jon Caruso: Spy in the Making is finally available! The book combines two genres I love–humor and suspense.

The premise: An awkward teen and his aging, smart-aleck grandfather team up in search of the FBI’s Most Wanted Fugitive.

Check out the links below for the latest interviews, to watch the book trailer, and to purchase the book!

Amazon 

Book Trailer (youtube)

Goodreads

Awesome Gang

The Big 5-0

A couple of months ago, I turned the BIG 50. I decided before writing about it I’d let some time pass. During the ensuing weeks, I reflected on my life, my accomplishments and this momentous occasion. And after much contemplation, I can tell you…it sucks worse than I thought. Holy crap, just awful. What did I do to deserve this? Is 50 the age ear hair starts forming? Is this the stinkin’ age people start telling me that I don’t look older, I look more distinguished? But seriously, as if I had a choice, I did find several reasons it’s okay to turn 50:

1) I’m not 60.
2) AARP – woohoo, discounts!
3) Everyone keeps welcoming me to The Club. Not sure it’s a club I want to be part of, but at least I’m welcome somewhere.
4) 1 year closer to retirement.
5) New reasons to take off from work—colonoscopies, endoscopies, etc. Okay, you’re getting a camera shoved up your keister but beggars can’t be choosers.
6) People treat you with respect and call you sir or madam—at least to your face.
7) Naps are not only okay, they are encouraged.
8) People assume you have a certain amount of wisdom. You know what happens you assume?
9) I can finally use the famous “back in my day” expressions such as: “Back in my day, we had it tough—we only had 4 channels (5 with tinfoil wrapped on the edge of the antenna), and had no remote control.” Rough times.

But the best reason: I have a job, a roof over my head, my health, and my family. If I can just catch a few naps and watch the New York Jets win a Super Bowl (please, if the Football Gods are listening), my life is complete.

Jokes!

Over the last few months, I’ve picked up a new gig – joke writer.  I’ve been writing current events jokes for Perret’s Humor Files. http://jokecrafters.com/. The site is run by former Emmy-award winning comedy writer, Gene Perret, and his daughter, Linda, also a professional comedy writer. Jokes are updated monthly. You’ll see my jokes and the jokes from other writers on the home page. Check it out!

Dad’s Christmas List 2016

Despite my wife’s insistence that I focus on her honey-do list so I can stay off her s___list, I’m back with my annual Christmas List. However, this is no ordinary list. This year’s version will please my wife as it contains items that benefit the entire family. Additionally, Dads across the country can use this list as their own to benefit their families—and stay out of the dog house—during the holiday season.

CHRISTMAS LIST 2016

1) Lock Wallet – Though there’s virtually no money in there, it gives Dad the peace of mind his last $3 is safe. One black coffee and a banana coming up–just not at Starbucks, of course.

2) Night Vision Goggles (NVG) – Sure, this would be a cool gift for the Dad who loves to hunt. But more importantly, Dad no longer  has to turn on the lights at 3 am in order to take that fourth and final pee of the night, thus waking the entire family. Also, Dad no longer has to hear, “you managed to pee everywhere but inside the bowl, again.” Nope, not this sharp-shooting Dad. Just remember to lift the toilet seat before firing away.

Alternatives to NVGs: Though you can’t take them on a hunting trip, they make great conversation pieces. And, like Rudolph on Christmas Eve, help guide the way!

• Motion activated Stairway Lights
• Motion-activated Toilet Bowl Light

3) Self-Driven Car- My kids could rest comfortably in the back of the car knowing they could fight or utter smart-ass remarks without retribution. But all that goes away with the self-driven car. I can hop in the back and get right in their grills.  The added benefit is those tired phrases, “if I have to pull this car over,” and “If I have to come back there,” become a thing of the past.

4) Smart Refrigerator – Imagine watching a movie or TV show with the family and wondering if there are any drinks or snacks in the fridge. Wonder no more. The smart fridge lets you peek inside your fridge using your phone. Unfortunately, you still have to draw straws to decide who has to actually get their fat, lazy butt off the couch and get the snacks. But you can’t have everything…..unless you get  the next item in the list.

5) – Beer Bringing Bot – This robot can bring you a beer, bake cookies, and flip pancakes. One TINY catch—it costs $400,000, which makes that Lock Wallet even more valuable.

My apologies for posting this so late. The good news is you have an entire year to work up the nerve to beg (plead, cry) for that Self-Driven Tesla. Happy Holidays everyone!

Tippy Talk Radio Interview

On December 30th, I had the pleasure of appearing on Tippy Talk radio–Books I Love . Please check it out when you have a moment: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/booksilove/2015/12/30/how-not-to-parent

Happy New Year!

The Christmas Wish

This year I vowed I was going to get something for Christmas. Something great.

To clarify, I do get gifts for Christmas. Money. A sweater. Underwear. Socks. An electric screwdriver. Things I need and use.

But it’s the kids that get the incredible gifts—the ones they’ve stayed up countless nights dreaming about. The ones they don’t need but satisfy their every whim and desire.

This year I want something I don’t need and will only use twice before it sits in a corner collecting dust but is a conversation piece and the envy of every underwear-receiving Dad on the damn block.

“Did you hear what Brad got for Christmas?” my neighbor will say to his wife. “A home-brew kit. He can make his own beer.”

She’ll respond in a sardonic tone, “We have a refrigerator. It has beer in it. You can use that label maker that’s still sitting in the box from two Christmases ago, slap a label with your name on it and, voilà, home-brew kit.”

While my neighbor murmurs “smartass,” and frustratingly contemplates the color of his new socks and whether he’s getting Hanes or Fruit of the Loom, I’ll be whistling a different tune because I’ll be receiving one of these babies:

1) Smart key – The perfect gadget for me, the guy who always loses his keys.
2) Flir One Infrared Camera – This beauty attaches to my iPhone and takes incredible infrared pictures…of what, I have no clue.
3) Motorized tie rack – A fantastic conversation piece. “Hey, remember those achy arms and shoulders I’d get from reaching over and grabbing my OWN tie? Well, reach no more! Observe, the motorized tie rack!”
4) Garmin Fish Finder – I couldn’t catch a fish if my life depended on it. But now I can at least find a fish. I can then alert other fishermen while I untangle my fishing line and say “Ooh” as they reel it in.

In sum, I’d lose the smart key, find no practical use for an infrared camera or a motorized tie rack, and can’t fish, which, unfortunately, means it’s socks again. It’s nice to dream.