The Five Secrets of Harold Cape

Harold Cape was a simple man.  Described most often as honest, loyal and even tempered, he would have made a good mayor or barber.  He craved not the power of local government or the comradeship of a barber shop, though, and instead opted for a career as a craftsman putting together perfectly constructed fishing poles.

His poles were displayed in the dens of wealthy men and women who had never sat at a lake’s shore, but that did not bother him in the slightest.  He took their money and bought himself the boat of his dreams so he could catch a fish or two.  He was a simple man.

Even simple men can be complex at times.  For example, Harold Cape had never told anyone that he had memorized the words of Green Day’s American Idiot.  He was well outside of that album’s target demographic when it was released, but he knew good music when he heard it and now whistles the melody of St. Jimmy while sailing his dream boat and catching fish.

He was no fan of puns.  He once punched a stranger in a bar for making a crude play of words involving the free peanuts.  When his wife picked him up at the police station following a brief holding period, he told her there was an unpaid parking ticket under with his name attached that caused the trouble.  No one, not even fishing buddies, would believe that he once punched a man for something so trivial.

He hated lying about that.  He hated lying in general.  Harold Cape feared lies.  He felt he was too dumb to keep track of the truths he said, how in the world could he keep up with the lies?  This fear made him an incredibly honest person, but he likes to make others believe he is capable of lies.  Usually this amounts to little more than ending a statement with “or is it?” Followed soon with a dramatic ‘bum bum bum.”

His fondness for cake once cost him a winning lottery ticket.  He told the story once to his oldest son and made him promise to never tell his mother.  As he told the story, he was standing in line a gas station when he saw a flash of light from the corner of his eye.  He over reacted initially, thinking the light was sourced at an incoming squirrel or other threat, but when he looked quickly to his right he saw a display of cake and other sugary treats.  His stomach roared and his brained pleaded for the dopamine rush of a sugar binge.  He left the line and went to stare at the desserts for a solid fifteen minutes.

The store sold a winning lottery ticket that weekend at 3:58 pm, exactly one minute after Harold had left the line.  The man behind him had taken home 3.5 million dollars lump sum.  Harold was furious.

It was in his anger that Harold did something he promised himself he would keep secret beyond the grave.  The Monday after he discovered what happened with the lottery ticket, he donned a mask and grabbed a bat.  He ran, he was younger then and still believed running was a thing people should do, to the gas station and robbed the store.  He took a stack of scratch tickets, five Slim-Jims, a pack of M&Ms and a cigar he did not intend on smoking.  Then he ran off to the night.  He was upset with how good he felt after the robbery.

When he was far enough from the scene, he began scratching off the lottery tickets to see what he had won.  He never claimed the seven dollars that showed up over the 200 tickets.

Harold Cape makes fishing poles.  He’s honest, loyal and even tempered.  He put a lot of effort in making sure this is what people think of him.  If his secrets got out, well, by golly that would be devastating.

Lyrics from My Upcoming Album

The first road trip of the summer has come to a close.   One thing that must happen on a road trip is sampling local radio stations.  Through one leg of our trip through very sparsely populated regions of the upper mid-west, we found 16 radio stations that came in without static.  Of those, nine were country stations.  Four were religious stations, two were public radio and one pop station filled the airwaves.  This is a lot of country music to take in.  I’m not really a country music listener, but after spending a weekend with the car radio’s ‘scan’ feature picking up thirty second bits of country songs, I am excited to soon drop my own country record.

Here now, the lyrics of track one, tentatively titled “Friday Night”.

(verse 1

Sitting on the back porch

It’s Friday night

Only sittin’ ’round till the feelings right

Then we kick it off. Yeah we kick this off.

(Boom. chorus time) Continue reading

Broken Mouse

Some time ago my mouse broke.

“Your what?!” the mouse above asks.

My computer mouse.  That was a little hard to interpret what with a mouse picture being front and center and not giving a modifier to the word.  Kinda like how we now say ‘acoustic guitar’, when people didn’t have to modify their statement prior to the electric guitar coming into existence.  Anyway, Mouse, I apologize.

My computer mouse was destroyed due to my own negligence.  My laptop sat perched on the arm of the couch, my toddler was allowed within 40 miles of the couch, the laptop, gravity and the toddler had a discussion and I found a shattered dongle sitting on the floor.

“A whaaat??” the mouse above asks. Continue reading

My New Series Now on Jukepop!

Jukepop Serials is the site that got me started on this whole internet writing thing.  Wren, the all too long and poorly planned superhero serial, was my first web based serial and the experience was wildly fun.  The book was ‘meh’, but…meh.  If/when I get back to it, I’ll edit it down and use words and plot that are…better.  Goodness this intro got away from me.

Now on Jukepop…Quincy and the West

A steampunk tale with goblins, a town with a history, a sheriff trying to keep the peace and plenty of trouble ahead.

Head to chapter one right here:  http://www.jukepop.com/home/read/10029?chapter=1

Current synopsis:

A small town’s reputation expands well beyond its borders and Quincy is the one to handle it, for better or worse.
Hot shot pilots, goblins, and a town full of people unsure of their place in an ever growing world, Quincy and the West is a steampunk tale of adventure and mystery alike.

 

I am terrible at writing blurbs.  The future of the story holds orcs and dwarfs and mining towns and is wildly influenced by Eureka. Should be fun.

 

There are lots of really great works on Jukepop too.  I’m going to be reading “Lar Breaxface: Werewolf in Space” for the foreseeable future.

Thanks for reading!

Second Blog?

I’m addicted. So second blog it is!

Come on over to Lunch Hour Characters for bad art, silly captions and watch my slow decent into madness as characters come to life in the odd moments of downtime.

https://lunchhourcharacters.wordpress.com/

We’ll see how this single topic blog thing works out.  Experimentation is good.  With that mentality I think it becomes a science blog…

…no.

You could give my Facebook page a ‘like’ and technically be subscribed to both this site and Lunch Hour Characters all at once.  That’s efficiency.

Have a great weekend!

To the Fine Patrons and Owners of Lucky’s Freeway Diner

fountain-pen-1851096_640To the fine patrons and owners of Lucky’s Freeway Diner, creators of unique spins on diner classics like the “Mama’s Chicken Fried Steak” and “Stack-o-Cakes”, I am sorry.

From the moment I entered the establishment and loudly declared the smell of kitchen to be “totally fudgin’ amazeballs” I set a bad example of what a good patron sounds like.  To make matters worse, wearing my torn jeans and blood stained shirt left my visual aesthetic to be desired.

Let me tell you of the moments leading to my appearance in the entryway of the cozy little diner, as I feel some explanation will help explain my behavior.

You see, I’m not usually one for dramatic entrances.  But the hours leading up to my terrible behavior might help my pending court case. Continue reading

Wilbur Robs a Jewelry Store

Long, deep, loud breaths.  Wilbur could feel his heart race, pulse pounding in his ears.  All he could hear was rapidly pumping blood.

“That heist went south, Man.  How did they get there so fast?” Wilbur’s partner in crime asked.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.  We got the jewels. We got the money. We’re going to be alright,” Wilbur explained.  He was hardly convinced his own words were true.  His spine pressed into a cold wall of red brick.  He didn’t know what street he and his partner had found refuge on, but he knew the buildings here were not going to hide them for long.

Sirens grew loud and soft again as squad cars moved down a nearby street.

“We have to move,” Wilbur told his partner. Continue reading