Max's Message

I have a passion for writing. I love to write my thoughts and I hope that others will like to read them. Maybe my thoughts, ranting and opinions will get you thinking and start a dialogue among you and others, or maybe it'll just get you to say "Huh". I love music, books and movies and sharing my opinions about them because sometimes I want the world to know how amazing something is or I want to understand how others could like something I wasn't the biggest fan of. Finally and maybe what I'm most passionate about is I love stories, hearing them, reading them and especially writing them, which I do everyday and will be posting often. Each of my passions and writing exploits can be found labeled below. Pick one, get a little lost, maybe a little excited and hopefully always entertained.

Friday, April 13, 2012

To Someone, somewhere...hopefully--

I haven't written in almost two years. I'm back because I imagine not very many people stumble upon this website anymore and if they do they probably don't stick around. I'm hoping that someone, somewhere out there might accidentally read this thought I've had and say "Yes, I agree and yes, let's try and make it happen!". Or even just "I've thought about that too" so I don't feel totally absurd every time I ponder on this.

Ok, bear with me. What I'm about to propose might seem slightly gross and indelicate but-- what if they could figure out a way to turn face oil into energy producing oil? What if they figured out a way to suck the oil out of some pimply adolescent and convert that oil into something that could power a light bulb, maybe two, or maybe one day an entire house? And, as an added bonus, that pimply kid would suddenly and wondrously be acne free.

Thoughts? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

In the Name of Freedom

The stage is set, the final act is about to unfold. It’s been three long months of thought and planning. On their part. I knew all along how this would end. After all, the hand, my hand, was caught in the cookie jar. If I only had pulled it out more quickly.

It had taken me years of planning. Years of back breaking work to fully realize my dream. My dream of setting them free. Caged and tormented as they were. I knew it had to be done. Justice is fair. Stepping through the gate, paying my fee, everything fell into place.

I meandered around the paths, smelling the dung, dew and greenery in the air. I checked my watch.

“The zoo will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please make your way with your all your belongings to the exit,” sang blissfully on the speakers.

I ran to the janitor’s shed by the elephant cages and jimmied open the lock. Hiding myself in the closet I put on the extra janitors suit and waited. And waited. I waited for three hours when I knew the last of the employees would be going home. Only a few lonely night guards who made rounds every half an hour to contend with.

I ducked down and crouched out of the shed, looking around me, squinting my eyes to see through the darkness. Crouching to the right I crawled over to the lock holding the elephants imprisoned behind a flimsy fence. I pulled out my government issued laser (which I got for a steal on ebay) from the back of my pants and started my work. I opened the gate slowly and moved around, following the circular path around the zoo; unlocking, opening, crouching and crawling for a full 3 hours. Every so often I would jump behind a bush to avoid the rent-a-cop before moving on. It wasn’t until I got to the snake pit that the alarms went off. As I found out later, the elephants and zebras (the first to be freed) had finally noticed their liberty. I guess this caused some interest for the newly free lions. Needless to say, it was chaotic.

At this point I was running in full view around the zoo, unlocking the cages and enclosures. I had made it all the way around the pit and was heading towards the exit when I noticed a light heading right toward me. I turned around and ran 20 feet before I heard shouting coming at me. Panic.

I saw a fence to my right and ran towards it, jumping onto it, scrambling to climb over. I was about five feet off the ground when I was pulled down to the ground. The cheetah jumped at me, it’s claws extended. They dug into my skin. I fell to the floor. I could not scream or else I would be found. My blood must have been intoxicating for the cat then took a sizeable bite out of my right shoulder.

“I’m trying to save you, you stupid animal!” I tried to push it off of me. Then everything went black.

When I woke up my blurry vision slowly revealed my new surroundings. Bright lights were overhead which obviously weren’t made by the sun. I was lying on something cold and hard. I felt my shoulder, which was throbbing in pain, to find it covered. I could smell rubbing alcohol and hear tapping. I looked over to my right as my vision cleared to see a steel table, with two chairs, one of which, was occupied with a man in a black suit, with grey hair and piercing gray eyes, tapping a pencil. He was staring at me, with a small grin.

“Good, you’re awake. Do you know where you are?” I sat up, slowly and scanned the small room. White walls, a small toilet bowl in the corner behind the man, and right in front of me, bars. “That’s right, you get it now. Prison. And you must remember why you’re here. Your little act of animal audacity has landed you a one-way ticket to this stylish cell. Let me fill you in on what you missed. Your darling cheetah killed two men and mauled another one. Two security guards were killed and the janitor is in critical condition. Now as I see it, they’ll try you, you’ll be found guilty, and let’s be honest, we love our capital punishment in this state so you’ll likely be executed. You could try for an appeal but the courts will still hear that you killed two people.” His grin got bigger.

What had I done? My years of planning and I never believed that I could cause this kind of terror; the kind of pain and horror that those I was trying to help meant hurting and killing others. I felt the tears stream down my face. I had killed people. I had killed 2 people and seriously hurt another. I was only trying to save the innocent and the price was lives of others. My fate was sealed. Justice was deservedly swift.

Today is the day. They pulled me out of my cell this morning and I felt nothing but relief. As I stepped onto the platform the priest softly said “God be with you and keep you, my son.” I nodded. God? This was evenhandedness. I smiled. A few guards stood by me with the judge and lawyers present below. I felt the course rope fall over my shoulders and then scratch my neck as it was tightened.

“Any final words?” the Judge yelled from below.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“Please step forward,” the guard said.

I close my eyes, take a deep breathe and all I can hear is the creaking of the trap door handle.

There's nothing to say

There's really nothing to say except that I have completely neglected my duties as blog holder and writer. With ambitions in my head and heart of becoming a true, working, professional writer, my love and passion for the short stories I have penned on these blog pages have been blown to the wayside. It makes me sad.

With a smile on my face now, I am turning a new page, or creating more new posts as this technology filled world goes. Here is a new story to titillate your senses...maybe.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Wrong Man, Right Job- Ch. 2

As they do in the movies it seemed my husband and his crew were highly aware of prying ears and spoke of cargo and packages in very general terms. With every passing conversation I gathered more details about his activities and the people he worked and dealt with. Finally, 6 months later, I discovered what kind of cargo they were dealing with.

He had gone to the mansion bringing a box that I had seen so often down at the shipping yard. Inside the house, the leader of the gang, or so I assumed, said “Johnny, let’s see the goods. Are these the first of the new line?”

“You bet, JD. Check it out.” I heard the sound of a box being ripped open and clinking plastic or metal. When I heard what sounded like a shot being fired, a man screaming wildly and saw some someone come running out of the house clawing at himself before falling to the ground motionless I realized things were worse than I feared.

I finally confronted Johnny about his extracurricular activities, feigning the belief that he was having an affair. Johnny was always kind. A great, kindly liar. He assured me he was in no way having an affair; that he was usually out running, clearing his head; that the cool night air, mixed with the impenetrable silence of the middle of the night was his favorite running time. You’ll soon be doing a whole lot of running, away from the law, I thought. Johnny wasn’t a terrible guy. He was just terribly drawn to trouble.

The following week my boss called me into his office to inform me that all my hard work had paid off.

“Given all your work we’re putting you on another part of this venture.” He handed me a file. Opening it I wasn’t surprised. Everything I had done for my job was leading up to this. I was, however a little stunned at how I felt. Guilt? Shame? “Think you can handle it?” he asked.

“Definitely, Boss.”

That was the night I killed my husband. It was easy actually. Poisoning his favorite dish, lasagna, which brought on a coronary embolism was as easy as convincing him to come to the house for a rarely made home cooked meal. What I didn’t realize would be so difficult is dealing with it. He had to go, I know that. I didn’t realize that a part of me would actually miss him. That is when I turned to the vodka in the pantry and the drugs Johnny had hidden in his closet.

My work phone rings. I need to pretend I’m sober. I pick it up after a few seconds of concentrated breathing.

“Hawson, here”

“Secure line.” There are a few beeps and clicks then an automated voice replies “Line Secure.”

“Agent Hawson.”


I wanted to commend you on an excellent job. I heard the clean up crew came and everything went without a hitch.”

“Yes sir.”

“I just want to applaud you on the excellent work you’ve done for this agency the past 6 years. Your dedication, information and perseverance to this case has shown me what you’re capable of. With your husband out of the way we can fully infiltrate the Skiferlli gang. Can’t wait to see you back in the office Monday for your next role in this assignment.”

“Thank you sir.” I hung up the phone and downed two more pills.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Wrong Man, Right Job- Ch. 1

I have been in a drug induced stupor for two days now. And it’s not helping one bit. I can’t erase his face from my brain. His final look before…before the end. Two days ago I killed my husband.

Did he deserve it? I keep asking myself that. One part of me swears that not only wasn’t he the man for me but he was a down right living hell. The other part, well the other part isn’t so sure. When we first met I knew he was going to be a big influence in my life. While my meeting him was in no way coincidental (a colleague of mine put us together) our life as we knew it would change considerably in the coming years.

The day we got married there were a few suspicious characters there that he would intermittently speak with in a very secretive manner. When I looked over at him and he noticed me he waved casually. I waved back and though “So this is how it will be.” When he stepped out in the middle of that night to “get some fresh air” I noted the time, wondering if this was going to become a habit.

A habit it became as throughout the years I still found him making those midnight excuses, still talking to truly conspicuous characters at a table near ours at dinner or outside of a theater after a movie. By our 5th year of marriage I was comfortable with this strange behavior and a willing observer. It was about this time that I got my promotion at work and life, my life, my plans went into overdrive. I would come home very late and to no surprise find that my husband wasn’t in our bed.

One might think that he would ask where I had been or I would question what he had been doing. That wasn’t the nature of our relationship. We were both closed off people, something we had discovered about each other very quickly. Besides, it wasn’t allowed by my job to discuss what I worked on. I don’t remember when it was exactly that I began following my husband and my suspicions but I do remember that it was around the time I had received new information about a project I was working on at my job. I would return from work a few minutes before I knew he would “sneak out”, parking down the street from our house and tailing him.

On some nights he was at the shipping yard going to an office building and staying for hours as boxes came and left. On other days he was at a very large, run down mansion in a bad part of town. After a few weeks I found what he believed was his secret cell phone, (though I had seen him use it on occasion, noting that it was a different color from his “regular” cell) which he used during these excursions. Having purchased a very tiny microphone (which was surprisingly easy- radio shack has everything these days) and placed it under the casing of the phone, I was able to listen in on everything he did during these nightly sessions. Deciphering what he was talking about was another matter entirely.