Marty goes missing...
“Hello, Mr. Wong. This is the Police Chief. There is “Some Ting” Wong,” pausing to laugh to himself – “get it??? Someone broke into Aisle 3, the front door is open. The alarm went off. Better come on down to the store.”
Not pleased with the Chief's attempt at humor Tom retorts abruptly, “On my way, Jose!”
The Chief, not sure of what he heard, remarked bluntly, “What did you call me?”
Tom, continuing on with the conversation as he removed the tarp from the Vespa responds, in a poorly accented “Oh, sorry amigo, just a carry over from dinner. I'll be there shortly”.
Arriving at the store, Tom, dashing through the front door collides with the Police Chief.
“Chief, what happened?”
The Police Chief, a fifty-ish portly man with salt and pepper hair, just stands there shaking his head, “Can't tell you much. Looks OK, maybe kids. Look around and let me know if anything is missing.”
After a quick walk through of the store, stockroom and office, Tom returns to the front of the store where the Chief had started completing his report.
With a startled look on his face Tom blurts emphatically “This is a real problem....they only took my guitar. Who would take a man's most prized possession? Why couldn't they take money?Why couldn't they take those Nike's over there? They could sell them on the street for mucho dinero.”
“Tom, this is serious but I just have to ask you..What is this Spanish thing you got going on?
Apologetically, Tom, feeling a little embarrassed he had continued the Spanish thing volunteers “Sorry, I was just .... you would not understand.”
“Alright, Tom. Well, we'll help you search again and lock up. I'll put the word out to both of the pawn shops in town.”
Tom locks up and resets the alarm. “Chief, call me if you hear anything, anything at all”
“OK, good night.”
The next morning Tom arrives at the store early. After all, not being able to sleep, he felt the need to arrive early and get ready for the store staff meeting. It was going to be a serious meeting! Tom thought to himself...if this is someone's idea of a joke, they're dead.
He had only planned for a 5 minute meeting. Just put out the word, get a confession, and return Marty to his rightful place. Being a small store it was easy to have a meeting. With only six employees, including himself, it was easy to call a get together. Not like the big boys with 24 hour shifts and nothing but confusion. He thought how he would hate to work in a place like that. After all, Tom thought of himself as a people person, a need to know his customer. Just like Ike on the old reruns he had watched of Walton's Mountain! Those were the days!
“Ok, you guys, listen up,” Tom yelled grabbing his coffee. Tom had a difficult time speaking in public without his coffee. “You have already heard about the break-in. Nothing was taken except,” pausing and staring down the staff like he was ready to point a finger, Tom getting serious, voice deepening, “We have a problem. Some unknown person done ripped off “Marty” and I am upset!
Mary Elizabeth, always excitable, blurts out what everyone was wondering “Who is Marty? Is he OK?”
Tom had never revealed to anyone he had named his guitar. After all, it was his secret, his most prized possession, especially now that Stella had taken everything else. “Marty is my Martin guitar... my pride and joy.” Pausing, gazing out at the customers gathering at the front door, all two of them, he continues, “The one that understands me... the one that is going to make me rich...the one who I long to caress.... my Marty!”
Mary Elizabeth, having only seen Tom like this after the nasty divorce, recognized the gravity of the situation. “OK, Boss. We understand. Who would want to do that to you?”
Tom, now getting angry as he thought of someone taking his Marty blurts angrily, “I know who would.... That sleaze ball boyfriend... you know “Stella from Hella's beau... He is just so jealous of my talents!”
Hollingsworth, deep down a sensitive type, chimes in reassuringly “We know Boss... we will help you find Marty.”
Not pleased with the Chief's attempt at humor Tom retorts abruptly, “On my way, Jose!”
The Chief, not sure of what he heard, remarked bluntly, “What did you call me?”
Tom, continuing on with the conversation as he removed the tarp from the Vespa responds, in a poorly accented “Oh, sorry amigo, just a carry over from dinner. I'll be there shortly”.
Arriving at the store, Tom, dashing through the front door collides with the Police Chief.
“Chief, what happened?”
The Police Chief, a fifty-ish portly man with salt and pepper hair, just stands there shaking his head, “Can't tell you much. Looks OK, maybe kids. Look around and let me know if anything is missing.”
After a quick walk through of the store, stockroom and office, Tom returns to the front of the store where the Chief had started completing his report.
With a startled look on his face Tom blurts emphatically “This is a real problem....they only took my guitar. Who would take a man's most prized possession? Why couldn't they take money?Why couldn't they take those Nike's over there? They could sell them on the street for mucho dinero.”
“Tom, this is serious but I just have to ask you..What is this Spanish thing you got going on?
Apologetically, Tom, feeling a little embarrassed he had continued the Spanish thing volunteers “Sorry, I was just .... you would not understand.”
“Alright, Tom. Well, we'll help you search again and lock up. I'll put the word out to both of the pawn shops in town.”
Tom locks up and resets the alarm. “Chief, call me if you hear anything, anything at all”
“OK, good night.”
The next morning Tom arrives at the store early. After all, not being able to sleep, he felt the need to arrive early and get ready for the store staff meeting. It was going to be a serious meeting! Tom thought to himself...if this is someone's idea of a joke, they're dead.
He had only planned for a 5 minute meeting. Just put out the word, get a confession, and return Marty to his rightful place. Being a small store it was easy to have a meeting. With only six employees, including himself, it was easy to call a get together. Not like the big boys with 24 hour shifts and nothing but confusion. He thought how he would hate to work in a place like that. After all, Tom thought of himself as a people person, a need to know his customer. Just like Ike on the old reruns he had watched of Walton's Mountain! Those were the days!
“Ok, you guys, listen up,” Tom yelled grabbing his coffee. Tom had a difficult time speaking in public without his coffee. “You have already heard about the break-in. Nothing was taken except,” pausing and staring down the staff like he was ready to point a finger, Tom getting serious, voice deepening, “We have a problem. Some unknown person done ripped off “Marty” and I am upset!
Mary Elizabeth, always excitable, blurts out what everyone was wondering “Who is Marty? Is he OK?”
Tom had never revealed to anyone he had named his guitar. After all, it was his secret, his most prized possession, especially now that Stella had taken everything else. “Marty is my Martin guitar... my pride and joy.” Pausing, gazing out at the customers gathering at the front door, all two of them, he continues, “The one that understands me... the one that is going to make me rich...the one who I long to caress.... my Marty!”
Mary Elizabeth, having only seen Tom like this after the nasty divorce, recognized the gravity of the situation. “OK, Boss. We understand. Who would want to do that to you?”
Tom, now getting angry as he thought of someone taking his Marty blurts angrily, “I know who would.... That sleaze ball boyfriend... you know “Stella from Hella's beau... He is just so jealous of my talents!”
Hollingsworth, deep down a sensitive type, chimes in reassuringly “We know Boss... we will help you find Marty.”
Labels: amateur wrtier, book by gary waters, clean up on aisle three, novel in the works, writing realtor
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