Monday, October 22, 2007

TV Review-ABC's "Private Practice" and "Dirty, Sexy Money"; Fiction-"Clothes Make the Man"-a Halloween story.

It's coming up on Halloween and we have our annual Halloween story.

Our protagonist had been suspicious of her sister's new boyfriend. Perhaps it was because of his penchant for pink, lacy panties.

It was when he turned up wearing a burka at her Halloween party that all hell broke loose.

Pic of the Day
montage of wet cats with attitude

Clothes Do Make the Man
It didn't take a Psychology degree to know that my sister's beloved boyfriend, Marcus B. Bradford, was a transvestite. The lacy underwear would be a first clue but my sister Angie doesn't know that I know about the panties. Angie also didn't know about Mark's other hobby, which would be robbing local stores and banks while dressed in his favorite female fashion.

Were I to be painfully honest I'd have to acknowledge that I too did not know about Mark's extra-curricular robbery activities until the day he robbed a local bank dressed in a burka of all things.

The burka, that head-to-toe covering worn by Muslim females, is definitely NOT the sort of attire Mark would normally wear what with that fashion's sheet-like covering and drab coloring. In fact I'll go out on a limb here and suggest that Mark only donned a burka just so he could rob a bank and not be identified.

My darling sister Angie was but a child of 18 when she met and fell hopelessly in love with that cross-dressing loser Marcus B. Bradford. And I only include that "loser" title because of Mark's illegal activities. Transvestites have rights too.

"He's so sensitive," Angie positively purred to me after introducing me to her beau. Mark was a very nice-looking fellow, dashing, debonair, well-spoken. He was 28 years old to my baby sister's late adolescence and this fact gave me pause. Angie's a cute thing but she's no beauty. She's bright but not overly so. Her personality is bouncy at times but most times she's circumspect, almost withdrawn. I couldn't for the life of me see what this "older" fellow saw in my sister although it could have been her penchant for pink, lacy panties.

Which panties I caught the debonair Mark walking in all about our house one bright morning when I'd returned home for a forgotten object. Mark was supposed to be looking for an apartment of his own but was staying at Mom's house, allegedly in the space over our garage although I'd caught him several times prancing around my and Angie's bedroom. Angie would often be out of the room in mid of night I'd also noted. Mom thought Mark was a nice guy and a great catch for the somewhat plain Angie.

I had no idea it was Mark out and about in our community robbing liquor stores, gas stations, and once even a library! I was in the dark about this because the local yokel radio station kept reporting the "female" involved in the series of robberies in our area. Indeed Angie and I even laughed at the thought of the allegedly well-dressed woman sometimes caught on tape in the act of armed robbery.

"I'd never have the courage to rob somebody," Angie said. Of course I wouldn't either but I sort of admired the moxie of a woman who would do such a thing. I don't know why, it's an odd thing to admire. But I was nonetheless amused at the spate of robberies in our area, all attributed to this one lone female. It was the sort of thing that women take note of and no, not Mom, me or Angie noted the connection of Mark's arrival in Angie's life to the female robberies.

The female robber's taste in clothes was superb and this fact kept the pundits gossiping. "The robber wore a red linen suit accessorized with a gold starburst pin," one serious news reporter thus described, I am not making this up. Had I been paying attention to the grainy and blurry videos frequently shown on the TV I might have noticed that the infamous "fashionable female robber" was wearing one of Angie's favorite empire-waist tops along with her happening straight-legged jeans.

This is not to say there wasn't speculation that the robber might indeed be a male dressing as a woman. In fact Mom, me and Angie would often speculate that only a guy dressed up like a woman would do such a thing. "I could swear that the person, male or female, was wearing the same baby-doll top I bought just like week," Angie commented.

You'd think we'd have gotten a clue but it was a busy time for all of us. Mark was busy robbing stores all over the city while dressed as a woman. Mom was involved in some medical issue or another concerning our elderly grandmother. Angie was all in love with Mark, going out on dates and even accompanying him to look for apartments. Angie said Mark wanted her opinion because he wanted them both to live in a chosen apartment together. I was busy planning the neighborhood Halloween party in my job as President of the community association.

Hidden Pines residential association had stopped the activity of door-to-door trick or treating four years prior to Mark the transvestite's entry into our lives. The community association had agreed that if the children of the community would all cease that cherished Halloween activity of walking the streets while seeking handouts from homeowners, that the community association itself would put on a Halloween party with plenty of candy at the Hidden Pines Community Association building. It was an attempt to keep down vandalism and unknown dangers to the children.

Actually my mother, the real Hidden Pines homeowner, was the residents' association president but since she was so busy with my grandmother, I agreed to take over Mom's duties.

It was a standard Halloween party affair. We had apple dunking, a sort of Halloween piƱata affair, a bogus psychic. I worked feverishly and Angie helped. We usually end these Halloween parties by having some sort of scary scene acted out. Angie was in charge of this part. I had just given the last child an orange and black cupcake topped with a candy corn when the planned drama began. I had no idea what Angie had arranged and frankly I was so tired that she could have had a real hanging for all I cared.

First the burka-clad person entered the room. I had no idea whether the human under that blue garment that completely covered the individual wearing it head to toe with just a small slit for the eyes was male or female. Further, this party attendee sure was a tad late what with almost all of the festivities over. Finally, I wondered who would wear a burka as a Halloween costume.

fiction quote for

It was when the police burst into the room that I realized that the burka-clad person was probably Angie and this very real police scene was part of her pre-arranged scary drama. I rocked on my heels and watched the action. The kids who had not already left by that time laughed uproariously as Angie wrestled the cops who seemed determined to bring her down.

"Praise Allah!" a distinctly male voice shouted from under that burka and I'll admit this confused me. Those cops were being right rough with my little sister as well. It was one of the fake police shocked my little sister with a tazer that I decided to intervene. This was one Halloween drama that, while very realistic and interesting, was getting out of hand.

I went over and touched one of the cop's hands gently, just as a gentle reminder that these were just children here and perhaps it was time to end the drama.

Only the fake cop didn't interpret my gentle hand touch that way and before I could utter a word my own arms were pulled behind my back and I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs closing tight.

"All right you guys," I shouted because frankly I didn't like this handcuff nonsense and some of the children began crying in fear. I managed to stand upright, which isn't easy with your hands cuffed behind your back, something I did not know.

It was then that the jolt of electricity shot through me godawful. I screamed and soon the entire room of costumed children were screaming and running around. The person in the burka was shouting praises to Allah and some Hidden Pines resident dressed as a police officer was shouting in my ear to lay still or I'd get zapped again.

So far as I was concerned these guys had carried their reality a little too far. "You get these handcuffs off of me or I'm going to call the REAL cops on you creeps," I shouted. Another jolt from the tazer sent me tumbling to the floor. Once the redness of the pain cleared from my vision, I looked up to see Angie sobbing hysterically over my prostrate body.

"Cathy, it's Marcus," I heard Angie say through her sobs. "He's in the burka. These cops are real. They think he just robbed the bank down on Route 15."

Of course my mind was not processing information correctly what with my body still shaking from the tazer jolts and the nut in the burka still praising Allah. I managed to sit upright and noted the burka was now in a cloth puddle on the association's floor. I also noted Mark, wearing only a pair of maroon women's underwear, was standing by the burka pile, his hands handcuffed behind him. Mark continued to shout praise to Allah.

The Hidden Pines Residents Association settled with the children left so terrified by the incident that their little minds would not rest until their parents were given a few hundred bucks to help make their kids forget the sight of my own fine self screaming, handcuffed and tazered, not to mention Mark and the maroon women's panties.

Mom got her mother settled into the nursing home and sent in notice to the residents association a commitment that when it was her turn to run the annual Halloween party she would not allow her daughters as replacement.

I survived the tazering and no, the cops did not apologize to me even though I explained the cause of my confusion. It seems that due to the recent spate of robberies the local police department had cops staked out at certain liquor stores and banks in the area. When Mark left the bank in that burka, a cop assigned to the bank he'd robbed followed him. Mark had made a beeline directly to our Halloween party, which he'd known about, I suppose to somehow assimilate in with the costumed children long enough for the police to lose his trail, I just don't know.

Mark got five years with a possibility of parole after three years. He shares a cell with a big guy known as "Babe".

It was how this mess affected Angie that is most amazing result of this fiasco. Once Mark was arrested and our family's rather stupid involvement with Mark became publicly known, a local daytime woman's talk show found out that it was Angie's fashions that Mark had been wearing all over town during his robbing stampede. Angie was booked as a guest and what with this attention and, I must admit, Angie's fine fashion sense, an investor came forward with an offer to finance Angie's own fashion line.

"Angie's Apparel" was featured on The Learning Channel, along with the story of Mark the transvestite and her dopey sister of the painful tazers.

Mark's jailhouse lawyer has written a letter demanding equal share in the company. Angie and I both have a tazer gun ready if that nut ever comes near our house.

She wanted a man just like her favorite bird-the cardinal.

Her wish was granted.

So why is she fleeing far away to the west coast?

From Chaucer's Women

We may be breaking the law, but the intellectual property is mine. It's fiction but hey it's blisteringly political.

The story involves a prominent politician and was part of a larger book of such short stories.

Check it out and see if you can guess who it is And the famous incident it details. Hint: Younger folks might not get it but the more mature will recognize it immediately.


Add POST to Technorati Favorites

No comments:

Post a Comment