Author's note; First I want to apologize for the length of time it has taken since "Merry Little Christmas" was published until now. I completed this about mid January. I sent it to my editor who never got back to me.Shortly thereafter, I got fed up with my girlfriend and we parted ways. Also some of my stuff parted ways ... like my PC. Luckily I was able to keep tabs on the non return from my editor via my Android.
Frustrated, I sought out a new editor. I found one who was honest enough to tell me up front that I was looking at a three week lead time. Thank you 76waystokiss for honesty and trying to help ... even though I am an author, I'm not making this up. I figured that since I could read, write, and send e-mail from my droid, all I needed to do was forward my story file from my sent folder to 76wtk. Right? Fuck no. After waiting three and a half weeks, I got pissed and was about to send scathing words 76's way. My voice of reason asked that I re-check the sent email. Low and behold, I saw I sent words of introduction to 76, but.the file failed to attatch. Silly fuckin me! So now, with help from the love of my life I give you an un-edited "Missing."
To clear up a mis-conception, this is not a continuation of "Merry Little Christmas." Marty appears in this tale but not as a main character. His tale gets wrapped up here though.
Before folk blast me about inaccuracies concerning the locations in this story, let me say I have only been to one of the cities and used literary license to make the others work in my tale. My Twitter adress is on my profile if you care to follow me and keep up to date on my tribulations ... SH
My name is George Starsky and just over six weeks ago I was handed a death sentence. No, you're not going to hear about my last meal consisting of rare baby seal pate, forty seven White Castle Sliders and salad dressed in the pussy juice of a virgin. I don't know what my last meal will be or when it will be. Truth is it will likely be bland and shitty, as I seem to have problems holding solid food down.
Every last one of us begins dying as the sperm cell meets our mother's egg. Some of us just do it sooner. I don't know the exact moment, because if I did I'd pick an amusing place to die. Unfortunately I don't know exactly when, but I know my time is soon. I have known long enough to have made peace with it. As a matter of fact I welcome death. Maybe I'll get some of those pesky fucking questions answered, like, "Why do I never get the hot teller at the bank?", or Why do the birds shit more when I have washed my car?" or "Why are hemorrhoids called hemorrhoids and asteroids called asteroids? Shouldn't that be the other way around?" Most of all I want to know why it is that when I am running late the slowest assholes in town are in front of me on the roads.
So what, you might ask, is a guy so close to death doing on a boat in the Gulf of Mexico just south of Pensacola Florida? Keeping a friend alive. My friend Martin Fischer is an under water welder. I am in charge of monitoring his breathing air supply while he dives to weld repair patches on a boat. I have only known Marty for three weeks, but we became fast friends since we have things in common. We both love to dive, even though I can't anymore and have sold my gear because of my illness, and we were both married to faithless cunts who stomped on our hearts after ripping them out of our chests Terminator style.
I see by the welding gauges that he isn't welding any more. I start taking in the slack from all of the various lines running to him. Finally he breaches the surface and I help him board the boat. We secure the gear and then have a beer and a sandwich.
As we are eating, he tells me his tell of woe. He tells me about his ex wife; Josie, and how she had started sleeping with a guy she went to college with. She chose to go with the guy instead of Marty on several occasions, always lying to Marty about where she was going or lying to make Marty not go. On his final night in Santa Fe, she went to her company's Christmas party with the dick. When she left Marty packed his shit and left.
"I used a disposable cell phone to contact my attorney after I left. I had thrown my cell over the first bridge I crossed that had water under it. He told me that on the evening that I left, the boyfriend was killed by a drive by shooter. No one saw the shooter and all efforts to locate the car were fruitless. I sat down with cops in Tennessee to answer questions from the New Mexico police. When they asked me where I was at the time he was shot, I told them I was half way across Texas. I drove all night, so I really didn't have an alibi, but I had several gas receipts from my credit cards form locations far away from Santa Fe, including one five minutes before he was shot for gas in Dalhart Texas."
. He had told me bits about this before today. He knew most of my story as well. As a matter of fact he's one of few that know I am doomed. He took a pull from his beer and sighed. "I heard that when Josie got home and saw my note and evidence of her whoring on the table, she lost it. My brother said an EMT pal of his had to sedate her.
For the months following my exit from Santa Fe, my ex tried to track me down. My attorney told me that she had hired a PI to find me. How she afforded a PI I don't know; her boss was so pissed that she had used his business as a cover to cheat that he fired her. He couldn't have it on his conscience I guess. I even quit contacting members of my family for a while because she was getting them to try to talk me back there. I left her everything, and only took a few things with me."
He looked off into the distance and took a deep breath. "I thought she and I were forever. Now she seems to think we still can be, but when I gave her the chance, she chose him. I just hope she never finds out I am down here. I like it here and don't want to leave. I still get questions about the shooting every now and again. I drop hints to those that I still speak to back there, that I might be Canadian now." We laughed at that. "Fuck her! I don't have time in my life for an unfaithful cunt who won't choose her own husband over some random swinging dick." I know exactly what he meant.
Finally I had to ask. "Did you shoot him?"
"The truth? George I'm not sure you really want to know. I will tell you that if it wasn't for a few brothers' help, I wouldn't have an almost airtight alibi. I had a couple dudes riding this way with my credit card to buy gas along the way so I would have time stamped receipts. But the kicker is that if I did theoretically shoot him, it wasn't because of her.
My uncle was an early member of the Sons of Silence. I still have his 1% patch. I don't know if the whore knew it or not, but when they were at Stanford her slime ball boy toy got caught peddling horse at school. When he was arrested he turned state's evidence. He implicated several Sons and one whole chapter went to prison. My uncle died in prison because of that smarmy cock sucker.
Maybe when my brothers found out who my ex was banging, I was given an opportunity to endear myself to them and gain their gratitude for life. Maybe that's what happened is all I'm sayin'."
He looked at me as if he wanted to reassure me, "I regret not handling her differently. I should have tossed her whore ass out as soon as I had evidence. Some guys might think I'm a pussy, but I wanted to make it work with her. That is until she chose him over me at important times." We finished our sandwiches and stowed the diving gear and turned for port. Even though he didn't really confess to me, I added two and two and came up with one dead jerk off. I didn't think any less of Marty. I know there are a couple of people out there that I would love to whack. My own mother among them.
Forty five minutes later we are pulling into his slip at the marina. We secure the boat and walk up the pier. He waves at Tiffany. He is close to my age I think; she is no where near either of our ages. He says she's 23, but if I was a bartender I'd doubt her ID if it said she was 21. She looks 18 and has the perkiest set of tits this side of the equator.
She is obviously very pregnant. I am glad because Marty has told me many times of his ex's miscarriage and the hell that put him through. At least he'll know a joy that I never will. My legacy dies with me.
The closer we get to her the more stunning she appears. Hell, I'd kill for twenty minutes with her. I could never do that to Marty so I am friendly with out being too friendly with her. Besides, I don't trust any female farther than I could throw her.
We say our good byes and they get in his new ZR1 Corvette. I climb into my trusty Chevy Tahoe and head for my apartment. As I drive I think back over the years. One cunt in particular has caused me more heartache and stress than I would wish on Hitler.
My tale actually starts 22 years ago at the ripe old age of 7. I lived with my mom and dad in Jacksonville. My dad was a cop and my mother was a stay at home mom at that time. My mom's best friend from high school Tammy moved in up the street from us that year. Tammy Lloyd had a daughter Linda. With Tammy and my mom being close friends I saw Linda just about every day, and soon we were inseparable.
When I was 10 years old, my mom hot a job at the bank. Tammy would watch me after school, which was fine because Linda was my best friend. We did everything together. We would go for hours long walks around the neighborhood everyday. Even at the age of 10, I couldn't picture my life without Linda.
.... There is more of this story ...