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.”

That is maintenance tech, not janitor!

“Boss, He ain't no janitor! You know what Mr. Carocino told you about calling him a janitor...It degrades..His name is Hollingsworth....Hollingsworth Van Dyke, the third. He is an Associate, a Maintenance technician.”

“Whatever, Mel.”

Mary Ellen knew that Tom took her initials and made up the Mel name. She was sure it was only meant in an endearing way.

Hearing activity that sounded like a floor buffer off in the distance, Tom yells “Whatever, Hollingsworth, park that Hyundai and get in here!"

“Boss, I must inquire. Why do you call it a Hyundai and not a Cadillac?”

Looking a little baffled by the question, Tom quickly responded, “Cause its little, not too sophisticated, and above all else, imported!

“Sounds like you boss,” Hollingsworth retorts with a smile, hoping Tom saw the humor.

Hollingsworth was an interesting character. A tall and handsome man of 30, he had graduated from college. Actually received three degrees- literature, music performance and graphics design. He could not decide what he wanted to do with his life. Besides, his wife was an architect and made good money.

“Oh, I see... just like your Vespa!” Hollingsworth snaps in a joking manner. Although he couldn't decide on a career, Hollingsworth felt comfortable here as a maintenance man.

“Anyway Boss.” Tom could not understand why everyone called him “Boss.” He was not sure if it was out of loyalty or disrespect. “I just get so inspired by your songs,” pausing slightly, “I can still remember your last one. How did it go? Oh yeah, My coffee’s cold and so is my wife!

Mel, peeking her head around the corner, blurts out, “Sounds like you all are writing a sequel!

Surprised, Tom looks up from his lowly perch and yells “I thought you were out of here....Go, go, go……….. open them doors, gotta make money for A3! Get that coffee and get back here, fast!”

Startled, Mel asks, “Who?”

Tom was beginning to lose his patience. After all, his quiet composition time had been so unproductive this morning. With a look of disbelief on his face Tom quietly responds, “A3…. Aisle 3, the name on your check!

Lost my double wide trailler....

Life with Estella had been disastrous. It all started when she got that real estate salesperson's license. She always said her interpersonal skills was her strength. Must have been he thought. It was those skills that led to her cheating ways.

Besides, she liked that silver and gold uniform. Personally, he thought it made her bottom look a little chunky.

Heck, the truth be told, he thought, if someone told her to haul ass, it would take two trips!

It seemed to have happen overnight. She left him for that trailer salesman. After only eight months of wedded bliss! How quickly things change - he had hit bottom. Lost everything. The awful feeling of failure. That period of failure lasted about a year and then, with a renewed vigilance, he committed himself to once again writing that hit song!

There was life after “Stella from Hella!” - and it was going to be a damn good life!

Aisle Three was always so quiet and peaceful in the early morning hours. With a couple of hours until the nine o‘clock opening, Tom knew he had time for a cup of coffee and music composition.

Opening the storage closet behind the office door, Tom broke out his Martin guitar, “Marty” as he like to call it. It was top-of-the-line. What a sweet sound! Tuning it just right, he sipped on his Dunkin' Donuts extra large coffee, something he had to get every morning on the way to the store.

Having lost his old Ford Escort, to Stella in the divorce, he had picked up a used Vespa brand motor scooter at the pawnshop down the street. Besides, with gas at almost four bucks..it was economical. It did not look good, was a little dinged up, had several rusty spots with new ones breaking out every day, sort of like a teen with a bad case of acne.

He had mastered the driving of the scooter, holding his extra large java every morning. As he was more prone to say nowadays “a rusty ride beats a well-dressed walk.”

Grabbing his guitar, Tom assumed the position. He did not understand why but sitting on the office floor, dressed in his shirt and tie, always felt so relaxing. “Lets see, key of G... "Oh she done went and left me, took all I own! Oh, I lost my double wide trailer To a triple wide woman!”

A high pitched yell is heard from the front of the store, startling Tom. Had it been an hour since he sat down on that floor? “

Is that you boss?” With no warning, a young twenty-something girl comes barging into the office, almost stepping on Tom. It was Mary Elizabeth Louis, his assistant - Mel as he liked to call her. Always in a hurry, excitable and prone to speaking too fast, she adored her mentor.

“Oh my Gosh! That is so cool!!!!!!!! Where did you get that from?”

Reaching for the Dunkin Donuts cup, Tom takes a slow sip, pauses, and then with a soft voice says, “Its life...my oh-so wonderful life....Who would have thought a lady in a trailer park would beat me out of my home! Left me for that salesman at the trailer sales lot just outside of Feeley Junction! Oh well, makes sense: double wide trailer, triple wide woman, spandex”

Feeling tears starting to develop, “She may not have been the best wife but.... !"

“C’mon Boss, you never liked that trailer no how…. Besides….hey want me to go on a coffee run?

Tom, seeing his coffee level was getting low, felt the need for more. If she is going to go get it, why not? “Yeah, you know I get my inspiration from Dunkin Donuts coffee. Make it hot, keep it cheap, but heavy on the sugar. Just like my perfect woman.!

Just kiddin' 'bout the sugar – no sugar!

Got to get this store open.... Before ya'leave, is the janitor in yet?