View Full Version : Lunch Between Characters and Myself. Adult, 1,700

November 16th, 2014, 08:40 PM
One of my characters calls me at the office. Sam Musscosolvo, a tough private eye in a series set in the forties, wants to meet with me over lunch. He's in from Chicago and, I suspect, wants to break into modern police or private eye stories.

Sam's a Mike Hammer type -- big, gruff, bigoted to the max, and opinionated. He was, at one time, a Nazi sympathizer. Itís a long story but, in his series he changes over the years, puts Nazis in jail, marries a Japanese girl he hid out from the law and an internment camp, and gets into some rough adventures.

His wife,Tamiko, is with him on the trip. Coming by virtual time-machine, they aren't too familiar with modern society. Since he's come such a long way, I invite him to a business lunch at McDonalds, figuring that he'll be more at home there than at a fancy restaurant. Also because I'll have to pay for the meals. Ha-ha.

For the hell of it, I bring Oscar Rat along. I value the rodent's opinion. Well, actually, yesterday I bought a case of expensive booze that I'm holding for a friend. I know if I don't bring Oscar, he'll use one of his ratholes and be into it while I'm gone. A hamburger for Oscar is cheaper by far.

Oscar and I get there early.

"We better sit at the back. Customers might not want to see you," I tell him. At the time, Oscar is weighing down a coat pocket, only his whiskered head sticking out.

"Jeeze," I can hear him mumbling to himself, "humans."

I hope Oscar behaves. The thought of a free meal usually keeps him content. I leave my briefcase on the table to mark the space as occupied and Oscar out of sight in a corner of the booth -- away from all but the most prying eyes.

"Get me a saucer a beer," he orders as I'm leaving.

"They don't serve it here."

"No problem, Charlie old pal. We go where they do."

"We can't," I tell him, "since neither Sam or I drink."

"Jeeze. Humans. What the hell good are they?" he mumbles.

I go up to the counter and get a couple of cups of coffee, black for me and triple-sugar for him.

Reaching his whiskery muzzle up to sip on the coffee, Oscar snorts. "It's too hot."

Right on time, I see a huge hulk of a man in his fifties or sixties but still imposing come in the door and look around. With him is a sexy-looking Japanese girl of about thirty. She looks pretty small for such a hellfire. Seeing me, they comes over. Tamiko slides in beside me, almost sitting on Oscar.

"Hey, you stupid oaf. Watch it. Don't sit on the rat," he yells in an agitated squeaky voice, causing her to start. She looks down to see him snapping his jaws.

"Sorry, Oscar. I didn't see you."

"You guys never see me. Open your fricking eyes."

"I said I was sorry. Now take it easy."

She reaches down to scratch him under the ears, calming him down. We all have to slide over to let Sam in. He takes up half the booth on his own.

"How they hanging, Charlie?" Sam reaches across the table to shake my hand.

Same old Sam. I haven't seen him in person for years. He and Tammy have pretty much reached into the '60s in his series. Even at the start, when he was still a police detective, he was over forty. Getting on the bad side of Chicago politics, Sam was caught shoplifting by a state congressman and forced to resign. Later, Tammy killed the crooked politician. Cut his gonads off. Looking at her sweet face, you wouldn't guess it.

You see, he had a sickness. He would unconsciously pick up small items. Sam would eventually return them, but it was a curse -- especially bad for a police officer -- and kept him from being promoted. His abrasive personality didn't help, nor his freely expressed admiration for Adolf Hitler. It's a minor miracle that he turned anti-Nazi -- though never anti-Adolf -- and learned to love an oriental. Eventually, he gave up drinking and stealing. Talk about a character changing over time.

"What they got in this flashy dump?" he asks, looking around. "Funny, I heard of a restaurant by this name down south. Supposed to be a new idea."

"It's the same place, Sam. They're a huge business right now, millions of restaurants -- all exactly the same."

"No shit? Glad you told me. I'll haveíta buy some stock, get frickin' rich." He smiles, an evil sight if you're not used to it. "Hey, girl. Go get us some grub. Put it on Charlie's tab."

"I'll take four Big Macs and six orders of fries," Oscar chips in, cuddling closer to Tammy.

"The hell you say." I glare at the rat. I only have ten or twelve dollars to my name. "You'll never eat that much."

"Grab a doggy bag while you're there, Tammy," Oscar orders.

"No doggy bag. Get him one small hamburger. I'll have two small ones and an order of fries. Oscar can share my fries." I hand her two five-dollar bills then watch her shapely rear as she goes over to the counter. Yeah, I think, I created a good one there.

"So, what's the occasion, Sam?" I ask.

"Just wanted to run a few things past you, Charlie, see how they bounce," Sam says to me. "What's the chances of me moving here, to the twenty-first century? I'm getting older and stiffer all the time. Medicine's a lot better here."

"It's not a problem, Sam. You only get sick if I make you. Don't worry," I tell him. "I'll probably have you hit on the head occasionally, but nothing real serious. Come to think of it, you might get shot-up a time or two but you'll get over it. I'm certainly not going to kill you off."

He looks over to make certain Tammy can't hear.

"The broad wants to start a business on her own," he tells me, shaking his head. "I need her. Keep her home where a wife belongs, will ya? Whenever she comes to this century, she brings home all those frigin' women's magazines. They give her stupid ideas. She's always bitchin' 'bout equality, women's right's and that shit. Hey man, I believe in that crap. I let her work in the office and, sometimes, get out in the field -- safe jobs, of course. After all, she's just a fluff. A pretty and handy one, but a fluff."

"Sam, I realize you live in the forties, excuse me, sixties, but if I don't let her out, she can't have adventures, which means fewer readers. Don't sweat it. You and me can keep her safe."

"Our women have equal rights," Oscar pipes up. "When we hit the sack, we're equal."

"You got it, Oscar old pal. You got the right idea. Keep 'um barefoot and pregnant."

"You two cut it out," I order, "and quiet. Here she comes." I turn to Sam. "I'll try to tone her down a little, Sam. She's been killing too many people lately. Maybe we'll keep her in the office a little more, but she has to get out and get into trouble. Where will the series be if you can't save her?"

"That's another thing. Half the time, she's saving my ass. How do you think that makes me look as a macho hero?"

"Here you are, honey." Tammy hands a sack to Oscar, then one to her husband, with me last. I have a dollar and sixteen cents in change, and still have to buy gas on the way home. I barely get to the change, having to slap a rat-paw away.

"Why, thank you, Tammy." Oscar is all sweetness. Sack beside himself, he shoves his head inside, chomping away, lost in a world of his own.

The rest of the meal is uneventful, only one business subject coming up.

"What you think of me buying some Mac-whatever stock, Charlie?" Sam asks, serious.

"Probably not, Sam. Sad to say, but I don't think you should get rich. There isn't much call for a rich private eye, and I don't think you'd really be happy."

"I'd love it, Charlie," Tammy interjects with a bright smile. "I'd love to be rich."

"Well, all I can say is that I'll think about it."

"You could have us get in trouble in other places. Rich places like the French Riviera?" she suggests.

"I'll consider all the options."

The talk turns to their shopping trip, Sam sitting quietly while Tammy does most of the talking -- us men doing the eating. The only discord is when I have to stop Oscar from trying to sell her fake jewelry he just happens to have along with him.

"From the original Queen Rat's private stock," he tells her.

"You mean from Woolworth's Five-and-Dime," Sam says, ever the detective, shaking his head. "I've seen it there."

Finally, all things must come to an end, thank god.

"Well, let me know if you need to talk again," I tell them, "and have fun with your shopping, Tammy."

"Bye, guys," Oscar squeaks, head in Tammy's leftovers. He's finished mine and Sam's already.

"Yeah, the shopping." Sam doesn't sound enthusiastic. "Think it over and let me know. All right, Charlie? Bye Oscar, take it easy, or however you can get it."

"Come on, baby. We only have us a few hours before the stores close," Tammy says, pulling the big guy away and out of the restaurant.

"That was good," Oscar says. "Let's get a beer before we go back?"

"Can't, old buddy. I got just enough money left for a cup or two of gas on the way home."

"Jeeze. Human idiots."


Note: Later, I had enough Sam stories to make into a novel.

January 30th, 2015, 08:05 PM
Later, Tammy killed the crooked politician. Cut his gonads off. Looking at her sweet face, you wouldn't guess it.

hay I love it ha ha lmbo my kind of girl, yea I can see that story turning in to a novel. thanks once again charlie

January 30th, 2015, 09:36 PM
Surprise, Rhiannon, it has. It's on places like Kindle and Smashwords, where it doesn't cost me to post it for sale.

I have a half-dozen such serials that I add to occasionally. When I had enough of these for a novel I made a few changes and put in small interfaces to tie them together into a novel of Sam's life from a mob bartender till after his retirement. Even added a couple of detective fantasy stories at the end.


January 30th, 2015, 11:21 PM
Dear Charlie,

I can never really critique your work as it is always as close to perfect as literature can be. You really are a great writer and this is another great story. I really enjoyed the read.

yours sincerely,