9. oliver

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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oliver was not rich and famous, a prominent and respected citizen, or a regular guy. but he promised his mother he would always try to be a good person. after his mother’s death, oliver lived alone In the house he had grown up in. oliver had never been able to find employment after his graduation from high school. he had no friends or relatives, nobody to give him “references”, and he did poorly in job interviews. his mother had received some sort of pension from his dead father’s employers, but the pension ceased with her death. so oliver lived on the money his parents had saved - not on its interest, but on the money itself. an amount of money which was being depleted rapidly. oliver lived frugally. he had no vices. he did not smoke - his mother had been a passionate anti-smoker although his father had liked a good cigar and the effluvia of his smokes lingered in the house thirty years after his death. oliver had never had a drink of liquor in his life and had no idea how or where to procure drugs even if he had been inclined to try them. oliver’s diet was mostly cereal in the morning, and vegetable soup at night. when she was alive, his mother had mostly fed him campbell’s vegetable soup. oliver had consumed many thousands of cans of campbell’s vegetable soup in his lifetime. in order to save a little money, oliver began making his own vegetable soup from a recipe in a cook book his mother had owned but never consulted. it was not as good as campbell’s vegetable soup. once a week, on saturday morning, oliver treated himself to a jelly doughnut or a creampuff from the local bakery. but as his money dwindled, he began to consider forgoing this indulgence. despite this spartan diet, oliver was somewhat fat and flabby. and had a generally unprepossessing appearance. oliver was the sort of person who, in an earlier age, might have been taunted and had objects thrown at him by the local children. but there were few children in his neighborhood, and such as there were spent their days indoors. most of them were under the constant supervision of adults. and even those that were not, were also indoors attached to televisions, computers, and play stations. so oliver was spared this particular form of indignity. oliver had inherited an ancient ford mustang, which he had learned to maintain himself, but which he drove very slowly. his chief abusers and adversaries on a daily basis were other drivers. the sound of horns blasting behind him was the soundtrack of his life. over the years he was rear-ended numerous times, but was never in any other accident or one in which he was at fault. oliver was not much of a reader. his mother had been an avid reader of mystery novels and thrillers, especially those of agatha christie and james patterson, and oliver would occasionally try to read these, but his attention would quickly wander. he did read newspapers. he walked to a cvs every morning - no matter what the weather - and bought a copy of the omaha world-herald, and sometimes the local weekly or an “alternative” paper with a lot of personal ads. he did not have cable tv or a computer of any sort or a smart phone. like most 21st century humans, he received many unsolicited phone calls, mostly from telemarketers. unlike most 21st century humans, he always answered them, and if there was a live person on the other end, he would engage them, or attempt to engage them, in conversation, although he never gave them any money or bought anything. he never gave them his credit card information because he did not have a credit card or even a debit card. (once a month he withdrew cash from the bank at a teller’s window). he spent long hours staring into space and daydreaming. despite all this, which might strike the reader as amusing or pathetic, oliver was not without a certain restlessness of soul. and he took seriously his dying mother’s admonition to be a good person. from reading the newspapers, and watching documentaries on network tv, two subjects attracted oliver’s attention. missing children. and serial killers. one fateful afternoon oliver presented himself at the local police station. a young woman in uniform was sitting at the front desk and politely asked what she could do for him. oliver told her he would like to help the police in any way he could to find missing children. the young woman looked at him alertly. “have a seat, sir. i will see if one of the detectives is available to talk to you.” she disappeared and came back in a few minutes with another young woman, this one in a suit. the young woman in the suit walked over to where oliver was sitting alone on the bench. oliver stood up. the young woman tried to look friendly but her eyes were cold. she did not offer to shake oliver’s hand. “good afternoon, sir. i am detective fletcher. will you come with me, please?” 10. gorbachev

8. morley

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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to begin at the beginning, click here

the doorbell rang. rob figured it was hutch, who had probably been lurking outside waiting for ruth to leave. rob was not really in the mood for hutch, but he got up off the couch. when he opened the door it was indeed hutch, and he had a friend, or at least another person with him. rob had never seen this person before. looking at him, rob’s first thought was that he would have remembered if he had. hutch was making introductions. in a somewhat formal manner, making little bows, like he must have seen in movies. “rob, this is morley. morley, meet rob.” at first rob thought morley was fifteen years old, then he thought he was about fifty, then he didn’t know what he was. whatever he was, morley was dressed warmly, in a heavy coat with the collar turned up covering his face almost up to his thick glasses. realizing that he was staring at morley in an impolite manner, rob invited morley and hutch in. he just hoped they would not stay too long. what he really hoped that they would be long gone before ruth got back, but the way hutch could get going and talking on and on about something, you never knew. and he didn’t want them making any kind of mess in the little living room, putting their feet up on the sofa and such. rob went into the kitchen, and hutch and morley followed. “i don’t have much to offer you guys,“ rob said, “but i’ll see what i can find.” hutch pulled a big paper bag from behind his back and put it on the kitchen table, and said “no, this is my treat.” rob looked inside the bag. it held two 40’s of king cobra malt liquor. he took one of them out. hutch made himself at home sitting down at the kitchen table. morley looked around with a blank expression. “have a seat,” rob told morley. “and you can take your coat off.” “uh - thanks,” morley mumbled. he took his heavy coat off and hung it on the back of a chair. now he looked about twelve years old except for his gray skin. rob held the 40 of king cobra in his hand. “um - it feels kind of warm.” “real men drink their malt liquor warm, “ hutch told him. rob, as was often the case, could not tell if hutch was serious or kidding. rob got up to get some glasses. “so, what can i do for you for you gentlemen today?” he asked. “i thought you might be interested to meet morley,” hutch answered. “you know why?” ”no, why?” rob took three glasses out of the cupboard. two looked clean but the third was kind of dusty so he rinsed it off in the sink. “you’ll never guess what morley is doing,” hutch continued. “go ahead, try and guess.” with a glance at morley, who was sitting expressionless at the table, rob answered, “um - i can’t guess.” “he’s writing a book!” hutch shouted triumphantly. “oh… that’s …. that’s great.” rob put the three glasses on the table. “and he’s writing the kind of book you like,” hutch said. morley didn’t exactly blush, but he looked a little embarrassed by hutch’s enthusiasm. “i’m just writing it,” he mumbled to rob. “it doesn’t mean anybody will publish it.” “yeah, but you are still writing it,” hutch assured him. “don’t sell yourself short, man, you’re writing a fucking book. i couldn’t write a fucking book if my life depended on it.” rob pushed the bottle toward hutch and morley. “so - uh - what is it about?” he asked morley politely. “it’s a true crime book,” hutch told him, when morley hesitated to answer. “like the ones you read.” morley still did not say anything. hutch went on, as he started pouring the malt liquor, “and it’s about a case he’s solving himself!” rob looked at morley. “is that right?” “it’s about - about some murders that might be connected,” morley said hesitantly. “the police won’t commit themselves one way or another.” “but we got a suspect, don’t we, bro?” hutch said. “a suspect right in our fucking sights.” “is that so?” rob asked morley. “i think a lot of things point to one person,” morley said carefully. “and all this - is all this going on around here?” rob asked. “all through nebraska and wyoming,” morley said. “maybe further afield. i’ll have to do some more digging.” “the guy’s name is lawrence landsdowne,” said hutch. he took a big swig of the malt liquor. “lawrence spencer landsdowne. is that a fucking serial killer name or what? it’s even better than ‘john wayne gacy’ . with a name like that, he has to be a fucking serial killer.” rob was getting interested in spite of himself.. “so what are you going to do if you get some more evidence.” “we already got plenty of fucking evidence,” hutch put in. “i think we need a little more to be sure,” morley smiled weakly. “maybe a lot more to be really sure.” “but what will you do if you get more evidence?” rob asked. “are you going to kill the guy?” “what?” morley looked shocked, and hutch looked blank. “no, of course not,” morley stammered. “i’ll just write the book, try to get it published, and if the police read it, they can take it from there.” rob realized that he had come close to revealing his own deepest fantasies to his two visitors. he laughed, to show he was just kidding. “but if you killed him, that would make the book more interesting, wouldn’t it?” “i guess,” morley answered. he and hutch both laughed. rob took a sip of the malt liquor. bleaagh. he was not much of a drinker, and he thought it was the most disgusting stuff he had ever tasted. “well, tell me more,” rob told morley. he really was interested now. he almost stopped worrying that ruth might come home early. 9. oliver

7. rick

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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rick johnson always tried to be a nice guy. and be polite and respectful. he was brought up to look out for himself and not be a parasite. he studied hard and graduated from high school, without having to repeat a single year. he respected his teachers. he particularly respected the police and firefighters who kept law-abiding citizens safe. but what he really respected was soldiers and other service persons - the brave men and women, those in the past and those in the present, who fought to keep america free. about the only thing that made him mad was hearing hippies and liberals - or anybody at all - criticize or make fun of police or soldiers. the police and soldiers who were putting their lives on the line to keep them safe and free. rick had a hard time finding a job when he graduated from high school. he lived with his mom, ellen, and her sister, his aunt grace, in a three bedroom apartment. rick's bedroom was very small. the whole apartment was small. especially when all three of them were home. rick wanted to get a job so he could buy a laptop and watch shows on it with earplugs on and tune out ellen and grace. he had a little radio but most of what was on it bored him and sometimes gave him a headache. for years grace made more money than ellen and paid more of the rent. ellen worked at burger king. before that she had worked as a waitress at little diners. grace worked at an insurance company . then she got laid off. she collected unemployment but from the first day she was laid off she went every day to look for work. she was absolutely determined not to go on welfare. her determination not to go on welfare, and her contempt for people who did - became her main topics of conversation. she wanted to do the same kind of work - data entry - that she had done at the insurance company but such jobs were drying up as everybody in the world could use a computer themselves as easy as talking on the phone. rick thought grace was o k, but sometimes he got sick of hearing her always complaining. sometimes there were four people hanging around the apartment, because grace had a friend named janet, from the job she had been laid off from, and janet would come over sometimes and she and grace would shoot the shit and gossip about the people at the workplace. janet always pretended to be sympathetic to grace and was polite to rick and ellen but there was one thing about janet that made rick uncomfortable. she was black! rick did not like black people. he didn't like the way they thought they owned the world. maybe janet wasn’t one hundred percent like other black people - she had a job at least - but that didn’t mean rick had to like her. rick thought that the reason grace got laid off and janet stayed on must be because janet was black. he ventured to say so to grace one time and grace just looked at him like he was some kind of idiot, and said, no, it was because janet had more seniority. rick wasn’t buying it. but if that was the way grace wanted to see it, what could he say? but what about all the other white people who were losing their jobs just because they were white? what about them? rick had one friend. well, he was sort of a friend. they didn't see each other all that much, but when they did eddie - that was the sort of friend's name - always smiled and said hello. eddie was a counterman at the little diner ellen used to work at - not a chain like mcdonalds but just a little diner - one of the last of its kind - that rick sometimes dropped in on for a cup of coffee when he was out looking for a job. one day around eleven in the morning rick went into the diner. the place was empty except for eddie. eddie was leaning on the counter reading a book. rick had never been much of a reader, but he asked eddie what the the book was about. eddie picked the book off the counter so rick could see it. the book was titled - “the life and death of adolf hitler”. 8. morley

6. larry

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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to begin at the beginning, click here

larry miller had had a hard day. he had lost fenderson - one of the company’s oldest accounts. it had been a hard struggle to try to retain it, but he lost it in the end. mike barber, his supervisor, had been sympathetic. the loss was on mike too. now it looked like they would not meet their goals - for the third straight month! what could you do? but no matter how tough things were at work, larry was always glad when the day was over. in this as in many other things, larry was like most people. now, as he strode into the gathering dusk toward the railroad station where he would board the 6:20 train, larry felt a pleasant twinge of anticipation about the grilled cheese and tomato sandwich he would make for himself at home, and about the reruns of star trek and the twilight zone and the golden universe he would watch. and the coors light or two or three he would gratefully savor. he heard a voice behind him - “billy! billy jensen!” as larry’s name was not billy jensen, he did not turn around. the voice got a bit louder. “billy! hey, billy!” but, again, as larry’s name was not billy jensen, he did not turn around, suddenly his right arm - the one carrying his briefcase - was seized from behind. not roughly, but decisively. larry turned and looked into the eyes of a man he did not recognize - a white man about his own age, a little heavier than himself, but if possible even more ordinary looking. and with the slightest hint of thuggery in his eyes, which, however, seemed to fade as he addressed larry in a friendly enough tone. “billy - don’t you recognize an old pal?” “i am sorry, sir, but you have made a mistake. my name is not billy.” larry assumed that when he looked the ordinary-looking man right in the face he would realize his mistake. but he did not. “come on, billy, don’t be that way. i’m not blaming you for anything that happened back in the day. that’s all over with.” and he jabbed larry in the chest in a friendly way. larry was not disturbed by this encounter. he thought it mildly amusing, if anything. although night had fallen, they were surrounded by people - mostly white people in suits leaving their jobs in the office district, the older ones headed home and the younger ones headed for the well-lit dating bars and sports bars that filled the area around the railroad station. larry laughed, politely. “i don’t know what to tell you, my friend. i am not billy, and that is all there is to it.” the stranger looked a little hurt by larry’s rebuff. “all, right, if you insist.” he moved a little closer to larry, but that could be because so many people were streaming by on either side of them. “but if you are not billy, who are you?” ah-ha! thought larry. this is just some scam. does he think i am going to give him my social security number or credit card number? aloud he said, “my name is lawrence miller. i work for the taj mahal title insurance corporation. “ he took a card from the pocket of his overcoat and handed it to the stranger. “if you are ever in the market for some title insurance.” the man took it and glanced at it. “thank you.” “and your name?” larry asked politely. a little bit of the mean look came back in the man’s eyes. “mitch. mitch philips.” “nice to meet you, mitch.” “and it’s nice meeting you - lawrence.” “larry. everybody calls me larry.” with a little wave, larry turned and walked away. when he had gone a block and a half, he looked back. mitch philips was nowhere to be seen. * larry settled back in his seat on the train. what a day! not one, but two things - not exactly exciting things, but two actual things - had happened in one day! he had lost the fenderson account - of which he would hear more later, so no use thinking about it now. and then the strange encounter with “mitch philips” - of whom he was sure he had seen the last. he took the newspaper out of his briefcase. he never read the news, not even the sports news, he just did the crossword and the other little puzzles. he began doing the crossword. 1 across (seven letters) - fate. 1 down (four letters) - a venerable fruit 7. rick

5. unemployment

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

at first rob was not too concerned about being fired from his job at the stop here. he was not sure about his eligibility for unemployment under state law. he decided he would look into it in a couple of days. first he wanted to enjoy his new freedom. he had not had a real vacation since high school. rob wanted to use his new found time to do a little research into being a vigilante and tracking down serial killers, satanists, and other evildoers. he also took a couple of books out of the library entitled “how to write a thriller” and “how to write a romance novel”. he thought he might earn some money writing one or the other, he had not decided which. he had never actually read a romance novel. he had read some of ruth’s thrillers but his own preferred reading was true crime books. all this sounded good inside rob’s own brain, but ruth was having none of it. she wanted rob to show a little more gumption and proactiveness. ruth’s first idea was for rob to call mrs peters back and beg for his job back, blame hutch for everything - say that hutch had put the porno in rob’s car and rob didn’t know anything about it, - and swear that he,rob, would never look at such stuff and that he was as disgusted as she was ,etc. rob was lying on the couch reading a book by ann rule. he pretended to consider ruth’s suggestion. “if i was going to do that i would have called her right away.” “tell her you were too confused and bewildered to call. tell her anything. it can’t hurt to call.” “um - maybe she will tell the police i am harassing her.” good one, rob thought to himself. “shit, i didn’t think of that.” ruth hesitated. “then you should start right away applying for unemployment.” “i’ll look into it.” rob stuck his face in his book. “i already have looked into it,” ruth told him. “you were employed long enough, and you made enough. and it wasn’t your fault you were let go.” “it wasn’t ?” rob looked up. “they will probably will say it was.” “it wasn’t your fault, it was your asshole friend’s fault! besides, you didn’t break any law. you didn’t even get arrested.” “i’ll look into it. i don’t feel like it right now.” “do it now! after i go to work. which reminds me, i got to get going.” ruth took her bag off the table . “and remember, it was all dickhead’s fault. oh, and don’t forget, i don’t want him coming over here any more. his vibes fuck the whole place up.” hutch had come over a couple of times since rob was fired, apologizing profusely, almost crying. rob had ended up consoling him more than he consoled rob. “he’s all right, “ rob said. “he was trying to apologize.” “no, he is not all right! he’s a fucking creep! he’s probably a child molester!” “you think everybody is a child molester.” “well, they are! don’t you watch television? we’ll discuss this later, i got to run.” “he’s just lonely.” “lonely! that’s just another word for child molester! if he's so lonely why didn't he try to get a girl friend instead of watching that crap!" "he told me. he fantasizes that the actors in the movies are his friends." "in porn movies? why doesn't he watch real movies or tv shows, and fantasize about jennifer lawrence or taylor swift or kim kardashian like a normal healthy human being?" "he told me that too. because he doesn't have to share them with so many people." "bullshit. he's just a pervert. perverts have all the answers. like liberals. and don’t let him in here if he comes over, i mean it.” “what am i going to do,” rob mumbled, “put a shotgun in his face? we don’t have a shotgun. ” but ruth was out the door and gone. rob sighed and let his book drop to the floor. he decided to at least look at the unemployment website, just so he could tell ruth he did. and then he would do some more scouting for a likely candidate to start his career as a vigilante on. he still had not decided whether to tell his plans to hutch and invite him in on them. rob lay on the couch for a few more minutes. the doorbell rang. he figured it was hutch, who had probably been lurking outside waiting for ruth to leave. 6. larry