WBDaddy

I thank you for that. No, it's not autobiographical, though there are certain elements in the plot (as yet unrevealed) that are. I had a picture in my head, and I set out to make certain that picture was vividly clear in the reader's mind as well. It feels good to hear that I was successful in that respect.

Chapter 6 Sunlight slipped through the bedroom window and tickled Gary's eyelids. He groggily raised his forearm and opened his eyes. The smell of bacon frying wafted up from the kitchen penetrated his nostrils, and he sat up. He was suddenly and acutely aware of another sensation, one less pleasant, one that fully awakened him most unpleasantly. He peeled back the covers and, sure enough, he was soaked. "GOD DAMN IT!" he barked. He threw the blanket and top sheet on the floor angrily, stripped his boxers off and wrapped them up in the bottom sheet. He staggered into the bathroom, frustrated and confused, and turned on the shower. "Are you awake?" Aunt Karen called from downstairs. "How'd you sleep?" "Like a baby - in more ways than one" Gary grumbled. "Oh dear. Well, get rinsed off and come have breakfast. I'll take care of the bedding." she called back. The hot shower did nothing to ease his bewilderment. Oddly enough, he had no recollection of dreaming at all last night, yet the wetting had happened again. Maybe Aunt Karen was right - maybe it was just a bladder infection - but the timing seemed too perfect for something else... Every time he had slept since Thursday, his bladder let loose. He was aware of this kind of stress reaction in children, but never in an adult... He toweled himself off and quickly put on the dress shirt and pants he had brought for the ceremony. He sauntered down the staircase in stocking feet, buttoning his shirt as he went. His aunt was in the kitchen preparing a feast seemingly for an army. Bacon was on the stove, eggs in another pan, biscuits cooling on a rack, and he caught the distinct smell of hashbrown pie from the oven. "Good grief, Aunt Karen, did you invite the town over for breakfast?" She laughed. "It's been a while since I had anyone to make breakfast for, sweetie. I might have gone a little overboard." "When did you get up?" he asked, a bit stunned. "Oh come now, the farm doesn't take a day off - I've already been out to feed the cows this morning." she chuckled. "On a more serious note, I called Dr. Hjelmstad yesterday after you left, and he said he'd see you first thing on Monday, so hopefully we can solve this problem sooner rather than later." "That old geezer is still practicing? What is he, 100?" Gary said with a smirk. "Shush, you! He's only 10 years my elder!" she scolded. Gary poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "I'm thinking about maybe picking up some of those guards today, in the interim. This is becoming entirely too much of a pattern." he said ruefully. "Can't say it would be a bad idea, sweetie. A wet bed can't be helping your sleep..." she replied. "Great", Gary grumbled to himself. "Now I'm wearing maxi-pads to bed. Can this get worse?" A few short minutes before they left for the funeral, he got his answer. The skies had been growing cloudy all morning, and sure enough, they opened up wide as he finished dressing for the funeral. "I had to ask..." he moaned. "Had to ask what?" Karen looked at him quizzically. "Oh, never mind." He shook his head. "I made the mistake of asking if it could get worse this morning..." She chuckled. "A little rain never killed anyone, Gary, but asking that question has been the death of many. It's fine, I have an extra umbrella if you need it." He had one - but it was in the car - not much good to him at this point. He sighed "Well, shall we get this over with?" She nodded, and they headed out the door. They both piled into the Cadillac and made the much more miserable drive into town. The rain was heavy, and the wind was just strong enough to blow it around in such a way that visibility was challenging. They pulled into the funeral home and were directed to the front of the rather short procession in the parking lot. Most of the other attendees were former customers of her daycare. "Ironic", Gary thought to himself, "not only did she take better care of them, but they give a shit about her more than I." They spent a few minutes inside, Karen chatting, Gary being barraged with "I'm so sorry" and "She was such a wonderful person" and all the other nauseating comments that he hoped to avoid when he skipped the wake. Finally, the funeral director herded everyone out to their vehicles, and they began the slow march to the cemetery. When they finally arrived at Memorial Park, the wind had died down somewhat, but it was still raining steadily. They made their way to the grave site. Not surprisingly, they were burying her next to his father in the same plot. He saw the pall bearers approach with the casket, and recognized none of them. "Poor bastards", he thought to himself. "Ruining their suits while carrying some stranger's body, that's gotta suck." The preacher could have delivered the Gettysburg Address, and Gary would have been oblivious. He was completely absorbed in his own thoughts as the rain pounded away on the umbrella above his head. In fact, Karen had to tap him on the shoulder as the group dispersed, as he was completely unaware that the ceremony was finished. "You alright, Gary?" she asked, concerned. "I'm fine. Lot on my mind." "Not so easy, when you realize she's really gone." "Are you kidding?" Gary said brusquely "It's all this other weird shit that's going on. Hell with her, she can rot." Karen was a bit stunned. "Oh... well... let's get in the car and out of the rain, shall we?" They headed back to the car in silence. As he drove toward the exit, Karen timidly suggested "Don't forget to stop at the drugstore, Gary." "Yeah, I'm headed that way." he said flatly. "Look, I'm not angry with you, Aunt Karen, I'm just angry. Sorry if I'm coming off that way." "Gary, I've known you your whole life. I know you're not angry with me. I just wish you'd open up a little here. Bottling it up is just going to make matters worse." He felt a twinge of guilt. Aunt Karen was just trying to help, and he was pushing her away over nothing more than pride. He pulled into the CVS parking lot. He was not looking forward to this at all. Karen saw it on his face. "Would you like me to get them? No one will question an old woman buying those sorts of things..." He looked at her hopefully "Would you?" "Of course, dear", she smiled sweetly back, and stepped out of the car. He watched her enter the pharmacy, and the guilt really started to sink in then. She was the only family he had ever known other than his mother, and Lord knows she cared for him more. He sat in somber silence, listening to the rain pound away on the car, and wandered into the confusion of his thoughts once more. He was startled by the car door opening, as Aunt Karen hopped back into the car. She carried a couple of bags, which confused him. She saw his quizzical look and smiled. "Relax, Gary. I spoke with the pharmacist. He told me he doubted the guards would hold the contents of a grown man's full bladder, and suggested the undergarments..." "You bought me diapers?!" Gary said incredulously. "Yes, but I also knew you'd react that way, so I also bought the guards, so you can at least try that option first tonight." Gary took a deep breath. "She's only trying to help..." he repeated to himself. He pulled the car out of the parking lot. "Thank you, Aunt Karen. I appreciate you doing that for me." "Sweetheart, it was nothing. You're all the family I've got. It's the least I can do." They drove back home in silence. The rain had slacked quite a bit, to a mere drizzle on the ride home. By the time they arrived, the clouds were just starting to break on the horizon, revealing a deep red sunset. He felt a sense of relief, that the dark clouds were dispersing with the dark deed finally completed. She was in the ground, and he could begin the process of forgetting she ever existed. "Gary... are you planning to run the motor dry?" Karen asked, breaking the trance. "Huh? Oh - right. He was a bit surprised that he had driven all the way home and parked the car, yet had no recollection of any of it. He turned the car off, and they both headed toward the house. "Gary, why don't you take this stuff to your room, and maybe try one of the guards out, just in case you doze off before you make it upstairs? You look like you're about to fall asleep where you're standing!" He sheepishly took the bags and headed up to the bedroom. He pulled the first package out. "Depends Fitted Maximum Protection Overnight Briefs" he read. He tossed that bag to the side and pulled the second bag out. "Depends Regular Guards for Men... for light to moderate loss of bladder control." He ripped the bag open and pulled one out. Yep, exactly like an oversized maxi-pad, complete with sticky backing. He rifled through the drawer Aunt Karen had put his underwear and socks in. "Geez, glad I brought a couple of these" he muttered as he pulled out a pair of briefs and negotiated the pad into them. He slipped them on and put on a pair of jeans, tossing the suit pants onto the dresser. He walked back downstairs, feeling very self-conscious. Aunt Karen was sitting on the sofa, watching the news. She looked up and said "I thought I told you to try the guard on!" "Uh, I'm wearing one right now, Aunt Karen..." he said sheepishly. Feels weird, too. "Oh good. Well, I wouldn't have known if you hadn't said something." Gary wondered if she wasn't doing all this just to make him feel better about his predicament. He shrugged and sat down. The reporter was talking excitedly about flooding in Minot. He wondered if Frank had managed to get his leave before the shit hit the fan over there. "Gary, I'm beginning to wonder if all this anger isn't causing your problem." Karen stated matter-of-factly. "Hate does strange things to people. Julie Castanatto's mother died of an amazing number of diseases, but it was her hate towards her own mother that fueled all those things happening in her body. Hate will eat you alive, from inside out." He turned and looked at his aunt, and began to wonder about his own mother, and what kind of hate she was carrying around that would drive her to the nastiness she displayed toward him, yet she was capable of such kindness toward her charges in the daycare business. It was like two completely different women in the same body. "Gary, did you hear me?" Aunt Karen asked expectantly. "Yes, I'm sorry, I was just... I don't get it. I could understand it if she was just a miserable bitch to everyone around her, but she wasn't. She was as sweet as could be to those kids she took care of. It was only me that got to see the hateful bitch every day. I can't comprehend that, why her own blood was worth less than kids she got paid to take care of." "Gary, many people out there put on masks to get through life. It's only the people that are closest to them that see them without those masks on, and sometimes it's an ugly sight." "Aunt Karen, I know you're trying to help, I know you want me to have empathy, but you didn't live with the woman like I had to." His voice started to crack. "You didn't listen to her offer nothing but criticism when all you wanted was one kind word! You didn't have to pin her to a wall to stop her from beating the shit out of you EVERY DAMNED DAY!" Tears ran down his face as he continued, "You're not the one that doesn't even remember anything about your home life before you were 13, and are afraid of what those memories might be like, that you can't reach them..." "Gary... I'm sorry. You're right." Once more she reached out and embraced him. "I can only imagine what you went through, and know what you looked like when you came here so many weekends, so many summers..." Her voice weakened as well. "...wishing to God I could save you from her, hoping every time she was due to pick you up that maybe she wouldn't, dragging her into the barn so you couldn't hear me scream at her about what she was doing to you..." She stopped and composed herself. "But you can't carry that around with you - you've got to let it go, or it will kill you as surely as it did her." "Aunt Karen..." he sniffed "...I can't let go what I don't even have hold on. I came here hoping the weight would finally be lifted, watching them bury her. Instead, it's heavier now than it ever has been." He stood up. "I'm going to go lie down. I'm not feeling well right now. Maybe Monday I can find some answers." She looked up at him, worried. "Alright, dear. You know I'm here if you need to talk." "Of course, Auntie." He smiled sadly at her, bent over, and kissed her cheek. "I'll figure this out somehow." He trudged up the stairs and collapsed in a heap on the bed.

Chapter 5 ...just imagine what your friends will say when they see... Gary awoke with a start, disoriented. He took a moment to get his bearings - he was lying on the couch where he and Aunt Karen had been sitting, covered with an old throw blanket, a pillow propped under his head. The sun was beginning to set, as he could see through the bay window. He heard a car door slam outside and footsteps toward the front door. He stood up nervously and looked outside - it was Aunt Karen coming up the walk. He then noticed something else he wasn't expecting - his crotch was soaked, as was most of the left side of his pants. He stopped, horrified, and looked woefully under the blanket at a large wet spot on the couch. Aunt Karen came through the door at precisely that moment. "Hey Gary, did you sleep.... well?" She stopped and surveyed the scene. "You never told me about a wetting problem?" she asked nervously. Gary was embarrassed and a bit indignant. "I don't HAVE a wetting problem - I have no idea what this is! I haven't wet the bed since..." he trailed off. He couldn't remember ever wetting the bed. "Well, let's not worry about that now, I'll get this cleaned up, you go get changed, okay?" She smiled sweetly. "Yeah... where did you go?" he queried. "The wake, sweetie. You were obviously exhausted, and I didn't figure you were much interested, in the state you were in this afternoon." "Well, can't argue with that." Gary said flatly. He walked up the stairs and headed for the guest bedroom down the hall. "Feel free to take a shower, dear" Karen called up the stairs behind him. He undressed quickly, bewildered at what had just happened. He jumped into the shower and rinsed off quickly, his head full of unanswered questions. He grabbed a towel that had been laid out on the sink and dried off, then headed back to the bedroom to put on fresh clothes. He came down the steps and saw Aunt Karen stirring a pot over the stove. "Feeling better, dear?" she asked. "I'm so sorry about that, Aunt Karen. That's never happened to me before." She turned around with a look of concern on her face. "Tell me, Gary, did you sleep on the plane?" He was thoroughly confused at this point. "Yeah, I told you I pretty much nodded off right after I had that drink." "Well, vodka and orange juice weren't the only things on those pants, dear... Are you sure you haven't..." Now he was completely bewildered. "No, I swear, this has never happened before!" "Then we definitely need to get you to the doctor on Monday. You might have a bladder infection or something else going on down there..." she said sternly. "Yeah, I'll do that..." he offered. "...along with that shrink..." he thought to himself as he put his shoes on. "Where are you going off to now?" Karen asked, still concerned. "I'm going to head into town and get a drink, clear my head a bit." he replied without much conviction. "Drinking isn't going to solve anything, Gary, you know that." she said sternly. "No, but this isn't a problem-solving mission, either." he smiled back. He headed toward the door. "Be careful, Gary, please." she sighed. He embraced her and said "Don't worry so much. I'll be fine." "Here, you'll need a house key." she reached into a drawer and handed him what looked to be her spare set. "Thanks." He smiled and walked out into the sunset. He fired up the Caddy and headed back down to Grand Forks, his head swimming. The events of the last 24 hours had just amplified what had already been going on with the dreams, and he really did need to clear his head for a while. He rolled down the window and let the cool evening air rush over his face. It did feel good to be back home, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. He cruised down through the several blocks where all the bars in town were clustered, right near UND's main campus. He was thankful the college scene had given rise to replacements for the old honky-tonk shitholes that used to dominate the landscape. He pulled up to the Toasted Frog and surveyed the landscape. Not particularly busy, but happy hour was already over, and it was a bit early for the night life to surface. He was grateful, in a way. He was there for a numbing agent, not a party. He walked in and sat down on the end of the bar. The bartender was a heavy girl, looked to be mid-20's, short and stout, like so many Upper Midwest women were. She came up and smiled and said "You need a menu, sugar, or you just drinking?" It occurred to him he hadn't eaten anything since mid-morning. "I'll take a menu and a vodka martini, dry." he grinned back. "Sure thing, sugar. I'll be right back with your drink." She handed him a menu from under the bar and went off to fix his drink. He glanced through the offerings - pizza, lots of pizza, the new trendy brick-oven fiddly stuff - artichoke hearts, feta cheese, wild mushrooms... He found his way to the sandwiches. Even the burgers were all uppity - ground lamb with mango salsa ("what a terrible combination" he thought to himself), "shallot infused" angus beef... He sighed and folded it back up. The bartender arrived with his drink and chirped "You figure out what you want, sugar?" He grimaced a bit - that routine was getting old - and said "let me get the angus burger, hold the onions, with fries, and please, stop calling me sugar." He did his best to sound gentle with that last part. She looked a bit hurt, but she smiled and said "I'm sorry, it's habit. I'll get right on that for you." and scurried back to the kitchen. He surveyed the scene behind him as he sipped his martini. It was definitely a faux "towny" setup, a new place trying to look old. The place was mostly empty, and the few scattered customers seemed primarily interested in the food in front of them. "At least they make proper drinks", he thought to himself. He pulled out his Droid and thumbed through his messages. No calls, couple of texts from co-workers wondering where he had disappeared to in such a rush, nothing particularly important. He poked through his work e-mail for a few minutes, put the phone back in his pocket and drained the glass. He hadn't even set it down when the bartender came back with the sandwich and a bottle of ketchup. "You need a refill on that, shh... oops, sorry." He chuckled a bit. "Yes, please. You make a fine martini, young lady, keep 'em coming." She whisked the glass away as he investigated his plate. He had to admit, for all the foofy crap, it did look good, and his stomach informed him it was time to cease the inspection and get down to eating. He made short work of the sandwich, along with several more drinks, and sat back to enjoy the warm comfort of satiety. Nothing like a good meal and a good cocktail or four to unplug you from your troubles for a while. The party kids were starting to filter in the door. He looked up at the clock on the wall - quarter till 9. He waved at the bartender. "Need another one?" she called down. "Yes, and a check please." He had no interest in getting caught in the night crowd. The bartender delivered his drink and he handed her his Amex. He downed in one shot as she ran his card, and brought back the ticket. He signed it, left a ten, and hurried out the door. As he pulled the Caddy out of its space, he could hear the whole block shift moods, with hooting and hollering and all the hustle and bustle of twenty-somethings looking to get loaded and laid. "Timed that just about right" he thought. The warm buzz of that last martini was just starting to hit his head as he got back onto the highway. For the first time since he left Manchester, he felt at relative peace. When he arrived back at the farmhouse, most of the lights were off. "In bed already, Aunt Karen?" he mused as he pulled into the driveway. He stumbled a bit up to the door, unlocked it as quietly as he could, and tiptoed in. He headed upstairs to his room and turned the light on. He found a note on the bed: "It's just in case, dear." He looked quizzically, then sat down on the bed and heard what his aunt meant - she had put a rubber sheet on the bed. He felt a rush of shame for a moment, then shrugged and stripped down to his boxers. He got under the covers, grabbed his phone, and plugged in his headset. "Hope I can get some decent bandwidth out here..." he thought to himself as he surfed his way to Netflix. No such luck. He couldn't get a stream going to save his life. Frustrated, he put the phone on the nightstand, turned off the light, and laid back, listening to the wildlife as their various noises drifted in with the breeze from the screen window. He closed his eyes and began to drift, and soon sleep was upon him.

Chapter 4 The worst trouble with roads in North Dakota is how mind-numbingly flat and straight they are, and US 81 from Grand Forks to Grafton is no exception. Gary found himself zoning in and out all the way, drifting through memories, with the occasional oncoming car punctuating what seemed a vast expanse of nothing. It was only an hour's drive, but it felt like an eternity had passed before he finally pulled off the highway and up the dirt track to the venerable old farm house. Karen was the eldest of the two sisters, and the farm was thrust upon her as a teenager, after her father ran off with another woman and her mother developed pancreatic cancer shortly thereafter. By the time Karen was eighteen and Josie was 10, she basically was the matriarch of the household, tending their mother, the farm, and Josie. When Mom finally died a couple years later, Karen fought Social Services to keep Josie with her until she graduated high school. Karen never found time for relationships, and never married as a result. Gary spent many a summer on Karen's farm, just to get away from his overbearing mother. As Gary pulled up next to Aunt Karen's ancient F-150 she'd owned since she was old enough to drive it, she appeared at the doorstep with a knowing smile on her weathered face. For the first time since the phone call, Gary began to choke up as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the door. Gary was the son Karen never had, and Karen was the mother Gary wished he'd had. He stepped out of the car and walked up toward the door. Karen came out and met him with arms open, and as they embraced, he felt tears well up. She looked him up and down and declared "Good lord, Gary, has it been that long, that you've evolved from a gangly teenager to such a stunning young man so quickly?" He laughed and wiped his eyes. "It feels like forever ago since you were teaching me to run that infernal combine." She sighed, "Yes, that was forever ago, wasn't it. Well come in, and I'll fix some lunch. You must be starved!" Gary smiled. "Actually, I had breakfast at Berta's before I came over!" "Good Lord!" she scolded. "I can't believe you call that food, the slop they serve over there!" "Well, I did pretty much live on that 'slop' in high school." Gary laughed. "Yes, and that's why you were so damned skinny!" Karen shot back. "Now come in here and let me feed you a proper home-cooked meal!" Gary walked back to the car to grab his bag and quickly headed up the steps. "I've missed you, Aunt Karen." "Well whose fault is that? Not like you couldn't have come out to visit once in a while!" Gary's smiled faded a bit. "Yeah, I know, I got the same earful from Jesse over at Berta's." "Jesse? How is that little rascal these days?" "I almost didn't recognize him at the diner, what with all the hair everywhere. I swear he's working on an audition for ZZ Top with that beard he's put together!" Jesse entered the house and was taken aback immediately. It was as though the place were frozen in time, everything exactly as it was when he said goodbye to her nearly 15 years before. A wave of reminiscence washed over him, and he stumbled a bit at the suddenness of it. "Are you alright, dear?" Karen looked concerned. "Sure, I'm fine, just exhausted, really. I haven't really slept since we talked yesterday, except on the plane from Boston to Minneapolis", he sighed. "Well that won't do at all! Here, let me take your bag upstairs, and you make yourself comfortable on the sofa." Before Gary could protest, she had his gym bag off his shoulder and heading up to the second story of the house. "Aunt Karen, there's a wet pair of jeans and boxers in there, I spilled a drink on myself on the plane", he shouted up the stairs. "Don't you worry, I'll take care of those!" Karen called back. Gary settled in on a corner of the couch and continued absorbing the scene around him. His aunt was a pragmatist, and the decor reflected her personality. The furniture was comfortable, but not excessively so. Two couches, both long enough to lie down on, but neither soft enough to fall asleep on either. A few picture frames on the mantle over the fireplace - his grandmother, mother, and him. An old coffee-table, built of heavy timber, with an unfinished top. A few pieces of decorative glass that belonged to his grandmother still adorned the windowsills. It was like a snapshot of another century, save the 13" television in the corner of the room. The moment was broken by the sound of Aunt Karen thumping back down the steps. "Vodka at 7 am? Really, Gary!" He stammered for a moment at the reprimand. "I... I was running on no sleep, and figured I'd try and force the issue. Hey, it worked." She just smiled and sat down on the other end of the sofa. "Well, I've unpacked all your things in your room, and I'll wash those jeans later. Meanwhile, catch me up, will you? Are you still working up in New Hampshire? How's the job going?" "Yes, I'm still at that place. The sad truth is, it's all numbers, and they look the same no matter who is signing the checks, really." "Well how about your love life? Any prospects for giving me a great-nephew?" "You know me, Aunt Karen. I get bored of women as easily as I get bored of jobs..." "Yes, I know. Your mother didn't exactly help with that either..." Gary's expression darkened considerably. "You know, I get that I was a disappointment to her, I get that she blamed me for Dad killing himself, but why the..." "What?!" Karen looked horrified. "Your father didn't kill himself! He died in a hunting accident! Why, Jane Duchsherer's husband can attest to that, he was there! Don't tell me she... Oh God, Gary." He sat in stunned silence, his eyes welling up again. "She did. Seemed like every other day she told me 'Your father wanted a girl, and you were such a disappointment he shot himself'" he spat through the tears. "Sadistic fucking BITCH!" Karen moved closer and embraced him, leaning his head upon her chest. "I always knew she was angry, Lord knows I watched it all through her teenage years, and I surely saw it on your backside every time you came over here, but I never knew how far it went, how determined she was to give that hate to you, poor child..." She held him tight as he wept into her bosom for what seemed like hours, as all the emotions overwhelmed him like a stampede.

I'm happy to keep posting until we catch up to where I am in the writing, so long as peeps are interested.

OMGLOLBBQWTFROFLCOPTERLMAOBTWAFAIKAFUAIICLBSLLALLMTOLOLIRL!

On that note, I wish to reiterate: It is not illegal for someone to discuss what gave him a woody when he was underage (or what made her wet in that special spot, for that matter). Can we please move on from that?

Chapter 3 Fortune did manage to smile on Gary, as he was able to find a bathroom to change his soaking wet pants and underwear, yet still make the connector to Grand Forks. The fitful 3-hour nap from Boston to Minneapolis gave him enough of a recharge to where he wasn't struggling to keep his eyes open anymore, and his stomach made him quite aware that he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday around 1 pm, on his way home from work. Gary's eating patterns had always seemed to center around his job - breakfast on the way in, lunch as an excuse to hobnob with executives that might make his ascent up the company ladder quicker (though usually resulting in his more rapid demise), and dinner on the way home. His refrigerator rarely had anything but a six pack, some leftovers, or maybe a half-drunk bottle of wine from a previous date. Not that his love life was anything but sporadic and unpredictable. Women were a lot like jobs - he'd date one a few times, get passionate for a month or so while the newness was still there, then get bored and lose interest. Rare was the woman who challenged him mentally long enough to keep him interested for more than a few months. He was actually glad he wasn't seeing anyone at this point - bringing a date to a funeral for a woman he despised probably wouldn't earn him many compassion points with the date. By the time the shuttle landed in Grand Forks, the headrest on the seat in front of him was starting to look appetizing. He scrambled off the plane, bolted to the Hertz counter to pick up his rental ("What luck, a Caddy!" he mused as he hit the parking lot), and hot-footed it to Berta's. This was the diner he and his friends practically lived in during high school. The food was terrible, but in that comforting, familiar sort of way. He ordered a Rakfisk stuffed with lox, sour cream, and onions, and sipped a cup of brutally strong coffee while he waited. As he stared at the ragged old menu blankly, a gruff voice spoke up behind him: "Well if it isn't the fucking smartass city slicker decided to grace us with his presence." Gary smiled and spun the bar stool around. He hadn't seen Jesse since he graduated Princeton, but he knew that voice from a mile away. "Hey you country sonofabitch, how the fuck are you?!" he said to the heavily bearded, burly man standing behind him. He stood up and they embraced roughly. Jesse was one of the two best friends Gary ever had. Jesse, Frank, and Gary all grew up in the same neighborhood and were attached at the hip all throughout grade school, middle school, and high school. After high school, Frank had joined the Air Force, done a couple tours bombing Iraq and Serbia. Last Gary knew, he was still stationed at Minot AFB over on the western side of the state. Jesse basically took over his dad's farm down in Crookston, a massive 500 acre cattle ranch, when his dad broke his back getting thrown off a horse. The three had always stayed in touch casually, over the phone, via e-mail, etc, but Jesse felt a warmth inside him he hadn't felt in a long time seeing his old partner in crime again, aged or not. "So what in the hell are you doing in the city, redneck? Don't you have some cows to feed?" Jesse laughed. "Shit. I done already fed the herd. Some people actually get up before the crack of noon to get their shit done! I was just up here picking up some parts for the damned milkers. I swear, those things are broke more often than they're working." Jesse grinned. "Crack of noon my ass!" Gary shot back. "I was on a goddamned plane at 6 am this morning!" "Whatever." Jesse rolled his eyes. "So what in the hell are you doing in town, and more importantly, why the fuck didn't you call and TELL me you were coming in?" Gary quieted a bit. "Aunt Karen called me yesterday. Mom died on Tuesday. I didn't have.." "Oh shit!" Jesse cut him off. "Sorry, man, forget about it." "Believe me, I'm only here to take care of whatever bullshit she left behind undone. Fuck that bitch. The last thing I wanted to do on a trip back here was sit and listen to some preacher tell everyone how great she was." Gary's smile dissipated quickly as he recalled the misery of home life in high school, the constant sniping, berating, and arguments. "Come on, man, I mean, I know you two fought, but you gotta let that shit go." Jesse's eyes softened. Gary could read the concern on his face. "I'm fine, brother. If anything, I'll be able to bury all that negative shit when I bury her tomorrow." "Well hell, you gonna hang around a while, or just tear out after the funeral?" "Nah, I got two weeks automatic from the company for bereavement. I'll probably be kicking around here most of that time." "Well shit, then. I'll call Frank and see if he can ditch his charges long enough to come over and drink a few with us." "'Charges'?!" Gary asked incredulously. "Oh hell yeah" Jesse laughed. "He's a high-falutin' drill sergeant up there in Minot! He got bored of kicking Arab ass, so now he's kicking American ass, handling the new recruits!" Best as he could, Gary couldn't picture Frank, the ringleader on their merry adventures into trouble, screaming in some poor 18-year-old's face about the "right" way to do things... "Anyway, I gotta pick those parts up and get the hell back to the ranch before those milk heifers get too bitchy. You still at the same number as last time I heard from you?" "Naw, I got a 603 phone now." Gary quickly scribbled his number on a napkin and handed it to Jesse. "Hell yeah, tell that bastard to carry his ass down here." "I'll do it!", Jesse smiled, and grabbed Gary in another bear hug. "Good to have you back in town again, man." He let go, then grabbed his shoulders. "Next time, don't wait for someone to DIE, eh?" "I won't, bro." Gary smiled wistfully as Jesse left the diner. He turned back around and set into his rakfisk, and let his mind wander once more.

Chapter 2 4:30 came entirely too quickly for Gary that morning. Sleep, on the other hand, didn't come at all. It was all so much to process - the guilt, the anger, all the other unresolved feelings that roared back onto his quietly fragile mental state like a tsunami over a thatched-roof fishing village in Bali. At least the dreams stayed away for a night, as he packed and repacked, smoked an entire pack of cigarettes he had bought on the way home ("Dammit, I had them beat for 3 years, and this had to happen!"). Finally, he shut the house down and poured himself and his suitcase into the car. Not much sense waiting around until the last minute to catch the flight. As he drove, images of a past that seemed to be centuries old wandered in and out of his consciousness. Life prior to high school was largely a fog in Gary's mind. Memories beyond that were scarce, and largely centered around piano recitals, school friends, and other seemingly insignificant components of his life. He had virtually no recollection of his father, not surprising, since he died when Gary was 5. The struggle to recall home life at all was the strange disconnect. There had to be some happy memory of interacting with her, right? Lord knows it didn't happen during the last 4 years they spent under the same roof. How many times did she tell him it was his fault Dad killed himself? The bitch was efficient, there was no doubt of that. She knew exactly which buttons set him off, and exactly which ones cut his balls off and rendered him helpless, and she pushed every one on what seemed like a daily basis while he was in high school. If he brought home a B, it should have been an A. If he made a single mistake on a recital piece, she was all over it. Hell, even if he played perfectly, she'd tell him he sandbagged it with an easy score. Never praise, only criticism. He pulled into the private lot rented by the firm he worked for at Manchester-Boston Regional. It was a good 1000 feet from the terminal, but it beat paying $30 a day for the dropoff service. He figured he'd be in Grand Forks for at least a week just sorting out his mother's personal effects, never mind dealing with whatever estate issues had to happen. He trudged up to the main entrance and found his way to the Southwest terminal. All flights on time, the ticker reported happily. "Thank God for that" he muttered. He checked his watch - 5:15. Well, maybe he could have waited a bit longer at the house. He sat down in front of the terminal desk, pulled out his Droid, and began browsing. He spent a lot of time on E-bay, looking at keyboards he'd like to buy. Not that he couldn't afford them, but every time he started to bid, that sense of hopelessness came rushing back - "What's the fucking point?!", his logical brain would eventually shout down at him, and he'd morosely continue to torture himself by looking. This time, he didn't go there. He wandered to a flash game site he visited occasionally - great games, but with the annoying side feature of a video commercial prior to each game loading. He stumbled over to Gemcraft Chapter Zero - he'd been playing this one off and on for months, there was just no finishing the game. They usually popped up commercials of Air Wick air fresheners, as though any gamer hardcore enough to sludge their way through that game would give a damn about how the house smelled. This time it was, oddly enough, a diaper commercial. Live and learn and get Luvs. He rolled his eyes and waited for the "Skip Ad" button to pop up - until a shot of a kid in a shirt and diaper running barefoot across a lawn stopped him cold. His hands started to shake, he bit down hard on his bottom lip, almost unconsciously, and for an instant he could feel a sting on his rear as he sat, transfixed. ...so you did it again, did you? I'm beginning to think you LIKE getting your ass tanned... "6:00 SHUTTLE TO BOSTON NOW BOARDING AT GATE 12!" The blaring of the clerk announcing the next boarding call snapped him back to reality, and he fumbled the phone shut. "What the hell just happened?!", he thought to himself. It was at that moment he also realized he had an erection, almost painfully intense at that. He had always felt strangely uncomfortable walking down the diaper aisle in the grocery, but never anything like this. As nonchalantly as he could, he readjusted his crotch area, pocketed his phone, and headed to the boarding area. "Thank you for choosing Southwest Airlines. We are now ready for departure..." The flight attendant's mousy voice over the intercom pulled Gary back into reality again. "After the funeral," he thought to himself, "I swear I'm making an appointment to see a shrink." He buckled his seatbelt absently as the plane began to take off. Thankfully, these early morning shuttles rarely were completely full, so he didn't have to deal with anyone sitting next to him. The downside on this particular morning is that it left him alone with his thoughts. Gary rarely remembered dreams in their entirety, just brief flashes. The ones that had haunted him for the few weeks were no different in that respect, but they were never good. He'd wake bolt upright, and remember only a scrap - a shout, a sensation, a vague form of a person, and always pain, so much pain. It'd be so much easier if he could grab hold of something that happened in the dream - at least then he might have a fighting chance at figuring out what the hell was causing them. As it stood, he was in the dark, which made it all so much more aggravating. The shuttle landed in Boston 20 minutes later. He trudged his way back to the terminal, then onto the plane bound for Minneapolis. He was grateful to have found at least a quasi-direct flight on such short notice, and even more glad one of the perks he got from work was free upgrades even on personal flights. He settled into his seat in first class and ordered a screwdriver. The flight attendant seemed a bit surprised, but shrugged and fixed him the drink. He buckled himself in and hammered back the glass, hoping the vodka might knock him out for a couple hours, as last night's insomnia-fest was starting to catch up to him. He leaned his seat back and nodded off almost instantly. This time not even the flight attendant's announcement woke him. ...I swear to GOD if you pull that shit again I'll make you regret the day your were born! The attendant tapped him on the arm. Were it not for the seatbelt, he likely would have jumped directly through the ceiling. "Sir, we've landed in Minneapolis." Gary fumbled and knocked the remains of his cocktail into his lap. "SHIT!" At least he wore jeans instead of his usual dress slacks today. The attendant quickly handed him some paper towels. He wiped up as much as he could of the orange juice and vodka in his crotch, unbuckled the seatbelt, stood up, and grumbled his way toward the exit. As he found his way to the terminal for the shuttle to Grand Forks, bemoaning his luck, what he didn't realize was that there was already a wet spot there before the drink was spilled.

After reading the eternal nightmare that is Baby Candy (in which every known child abuse law is pretty well violated to this point), I feel quite confident the story in question, while intense in perhaps a different fashion, will definitely be acceptable in terms of the actual abuse involved.

Fair warning: This is not a happy story, and diapers are not central to the plot, though they do play somewhat of a prominent role. The Funeral Chapter 1 ...SHUT UP you little bastard, or I'll GIVE you something to... BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ Gary sat bolt upright and slammed the alarm clock. He was soaked in sweat. He looked at the clock - 8:35. "DAMMIT!" - He was going to be late to work again, and no chance to even grab a quick shower. He grabbed a towel out of the hamper and wiped himself down, ripped a shirt and pants out of the closet, slung a tie across his shoulder, and furiously dressed as he hopped toward the front door. Thankfully, he had left his wallet and keys on the end table next to the door. He grabbed them and stuffed them into his pants pocket, then stumbled out the door still wrestling his shoes on. Gary hated listening to the radio driving to work. It reminded him too much of how he let his mother bully him into turning down the scholarship to Juliard and instead getting a degree in accounting. "Bitch. It was her idea to make me play the stupid piano in the first place." So he normally drove to work in silence. This morning, however, his nerves were shot. The dreams had been getting more intense, and had been following him into daylight. He cranked up the stereo as loud as it would go as he fought through the morning rush hour traffic. "At least it's not New York anymore", he thought morosely, as David Bowie serenaded him from the stock speakers in his aging Seville SLS. If he were still working for that high-power firm that recruited him out of Princeton, living in White Plains (the company that bought him that car, brand new, as a bonus his second year), it wouldn't have been worth it to bother going in, getting started this late. Not that the commute from Concord, NH to Manchester was any treat at this time of day, but at least it was under 45 minutes, even in the worst jams. Don't lean on me man, cause you can't afford the ticket... Gary finally pulled into the company garage at 9:20 and headed for the elevator. He grabbed a comb out of his back pocket and tried to create some sort of order in the chaos that was his hair. He hit the 25th floor and tried to act nonchalant as he headed for his cubicle. This was his 7th job in 10 years, pretty much the same story every time. Come in like a ball of fire, be the company superstar for 4-5 months until the challenge of the job ran out and everything became droll and routine. Then the slow decline, and finally the getting fired for something idiotic like, well, being chronically late. He was definitely on the tail end of the slide at this place, trying to hang on while he updated his resume and looked for the next city to run to. He slid into his chair and woefully stared at the overflow in his inbox. Concentration was never his best friend, but lately the dreams were overwhelming his waking mind, making life in general an afterthought. He fired up his PC and logged into the VPN. He checked his calendar: "Great. Another glorious productivity meeting with Bert. How the fuck does he expect us to be productive when he's dragging us into meetings every other day?" He checked his watch. Meeting was in 10 minutes. "Even better!", he thought, knowing that his half-completed report was still waiting for him in Word. He printed off what he had and trudged over to the pool's laser at the end of the row to pick it up. ...No...I'm sorry...I'll do it!!! Please!!! You had your chance, you little BRAT!!! "Makowski!" "Huh?!" "Are you going to share your data with us today, or were you planning on just staring at it for the duration of the meeting?" The entire room was staring Gary's direction as he turned red and fumbled through his haphazardly assembled document. Thankfully, Gary had done the analysis and put together his conclusion before he actually wrote the report, so he mustered up his best improv and stumbled through a quick presentation. After Gary's close, Bert resumed his rambling on about quality and efficiency, and Gary drifted back into his thoughts. After what seemed an eternity, the meeting finally ended, and he headed back to his desk. What greeted him was a bit of a shock. At the top of his incoming e-mail was something from Aunt Karen: "You need to call me immediately." He opened it - nothing in the body except her number. This was truly strange. His aunt hated computers; she always found electronic communication to be "cold and impersonal". He grabbed his phone and dialed her number... "Hello?" "Aunt Karen?" "Gary? Damn you, you are the most difficult person to contact!" "Well, the jobs have..." "Yes, I know, you change jobs more frequently than you used to change your underwear. Not the point. You need to get out here, Gary. Your mother's gone." He paused on these last three words. "Gone where? And why do I give a damn?" "No, Gary. She died two nights ago." It felt like Cain Velasquez punched him in the sternum. He hadn't spoken to his mother in the 10 years since he graduated college, and barely communicated with her while he was at Princeton. But she was only 53. How the hell? "What happened?" "The doctor says she had a massive stroke. Probably a side effect of all the drinking." Drinking? He remembered his mother being a miserable bitch, but he never remembered her drinking... "What drinking?" "Your mother started drinking after your father died. She kept it pretty low key until you left for college, but the next 15 years was pretty much non-stop bender once she got all the kids sent off to their parents for the evening." The daycare operation... Gary shivered as he recalled all the times he was pressed into service acting as his mother's "assistant" dealing with all those little preschoolers when he got home from school. "Jesus Christ, Aunt Karen. Let me get off here and take care of the bereavement leave and book my flight." "You want me to pick you up in St. Paul?" "No, it's fine, I'll rent a car." "Alright, Gary. I'll see you tomorrow?" "I'll call you when I have my booking." "Okay then. Be safe." "Bye." Gary hung up the phone. His mind was swimming in a mixture of raw emotion and confusion. He fired up the company intranet software and filled out his bereavement request. He then opened up an airline page, when he heard a voice behind him: "Going on vacation, are we?" It was Bert. "If I presented something that sloppy at a board meeting, I'd be trying to catch a flight out of town myself." Gary turned around and fired off without thinking. "Go to hell, Bert. My mother just died, and I have a funeral to attend!" His boss stepped back, stunned for a moment. "I apologize. Have a safe trip." He sheepishly backed away and headed toward his office. Gary finished booking the flight. "6 a.m. Lovely", he thought to himself. He hated early morning departures, but there were no red-eyes available out of Manchester International or Boston tonight, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with rush hour traffic on the way to the airport in the morning. He shut down his computer, grabbed his jacket, and headed toward the elevator.

The shipping from Canada makes the price point a dealbreaker for me.

Actually, the only confirmed termination was the guy who shot the video, in part because he encouraged the perps to get out of there because the cops were on their way.

Dprtube not enough for you? Or too much borderline coprophagia on there?

Well, like I said, Riley Kilo has reported on another site that she's going to be doing a network spot, so that may come as a relief to all those uptight about Stanley's appearance (which, for the record, I found to be a completely tasteful piece once I actually got a chance to see it). Stanley also showed up on ADISC and stated that he was actually the last person on NG's list, and that every other AB they contacted refused to do the spot without having their face blacked out or their voice changed.

Well, rumor has it that Riley Kilo is going to be doing a network thing. No other info available than that, but it's straight from the horse's mouth. So we will have someone who won't look (to the general public) "obscenely fat" repping for the community sometime very soon. I understand the frustration of the OP, but at the same time better wording would have gotten you less ire. And Sarah, there are a lot of people in this community who cannot risk their professional lives by "coming out", particularly on a national TV segment. Obviously, Stanley had little to lose in that regard, since both he and his "mommy" (I wouldn't refer to her as an SO, because it definitely did not look like that sort of relationship, based on the backstory provided) are on disability and don't run the risk of being blackballed from their career paths for it. I could do it, but I wouldn't be an interesting subject, nor would my "story" be appropriate for TV, since it's 90% sexual for me, and I don't get into all the extraneous props even during that other 10% of the time. All the same, so long as they didn't use my real name, my bosses wouldn't even be aware it was me, since they've never seen me face to face (I've telecommuted for this company since the day I started). Lest you either didn't know or didn't hear, one of the earliest AB's to come out (I believe it was on Maury, if memory serves) wound up getting fired from the daycare where she used to work when the show hit the air because they all assumed she was a pedo. Imagine being in a much higher-level image position, like Angela Bauer, and trying to survive the damage a show like that would do to your career.

I had a chlamydia test once. That was bad enough. Ain't no mofo gonna shove no tube up there.

Wow, you mean Starbucks coffee might stop sucking?

Fun ending. Gotta feel bad for the poor kid, but fun ending anyway.

Translation is definitely a big help. Now, suddenly, it's hysterical.

I would very much start war over that one. You authorized them to send one set of flowers. They can't come back and charge you for their error, nor can they expect your mother to have known when the delivery man arrived that the second delivery was a mistake. I seriously doubt they'll attempt such a thing, seriously, but if they do, know ahead of time that it's completely illegal.

Yeah, no kidding. My mother has (OMG) a picture of my naked butt lying on the bathroom floor, wearing an Abbott-style derby cap, still belted into my potty chair, fast asleep - and she has shown it (much to my chagrin) to many people, including former g/f's. CALL THE COPS! ARREST THAT WOMAN! PEDDLER OF PORNO!!!

Luvs and Tara seem to be getting awfully uptight over nothing here. If it were illegal for a guy to talk/post about something weird that gave him an erection when he was under the age of 18, there wouldn't be enough prisons across the planet to hold the guilty. Back on topic, I can't say that I've had that direct experience, but then maybe my teachers weren't as hot as yours.

So I should count myself fortunate that, despite my well-stocked beer gut, I have a cracker-ass?

My viewpoint is this: The impact isn't exactly a chasm between the two, it's just different. Further, the last thing a new mother needs to add to the challenge and stress of handling a new baby is having to do an enormous amount more laundry because she's also washing diapers. Diaper services? Now you're adding more environmental impact, because they use industrial-grade cleaners, not to mention they're driving to your house every week for pickup and dropoff. You'd be surprised - by the time they're in that range of being ready to start potty training, they're also eating table food full time, which means they're producing much more formed (read: easier to clean up) stool. You probably came up just short of that point when you gave up and went disposable.