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.”

Going "Home for the Knight"

Having left the store for the evening early, if 4:30 is early, Tom heads for home on his scooter. With his bushy black hair blowing in the breeze he makes his way for home.

Going through town Tom made it a point to wave at everyone. Good PR will bring the customer in, he reasoned.

Pulling into the drive way of the “Home for the Knight” motel, Tom followed a gravel road along the side of the office to a shaded lot behind the motel. Because of his divorce he had lost his home. He had scraped enough money together to buy a used motor home. Actually, it was not a motor home. It was really a small 12 foot camper, an old one at that, like the ones people pulled behind their cars for that weekend camping trip. It was sitting on blocks.

Tom wanted to save the tires from exposure to the weather. He wanted it to be ready to pull to Nashville, as soon as he got the call!

Not made for luxury by any means, it had the basics. There was the twin bed which actually was a fold-down cushion over the dining table. Not much of a table, just two benches and yellow Formica covered particle board.

In the corner stood a mini-shower. Thank God Tom was a small man. Of course, he did not spend a lot of time in the shower as there was no hot water. Actually, his water was supplied by a garden hose hooked to a spigot attachment run through a window. If he showered, he hooked it to the shower input; if he was washing dishes he hooked it to the sink. Not too sophisticated, but it was water.

Of course he never really had to wash many dishes. After all, how much cooking can you do on a two-burner hotplate. Besides, his preference was for the grill under the tree out front... hot dogs and burgers, as American as apple pie. And, he was an American, the next great country music songwriter!

Before he could make it inside, he heard a soft voice, yelling his name. It was Mrs Knight.

Sue and Vernon Knight were the “proprietors” of the “Home for the Knight.” Tom was always respectful of the sixty something Knights for they had been so supportive of him during the bitter divorce. They had retired from up north - New York, Michigan, someplace cold and moved to Florida.

They had found this little six unit motel outside Feeley Junction. Bought it and fixed it up. Figured they could live in one unit and rent the other five units out. The best laid plans. He was lucky they let him stay out back for nothing, just the right price.

Sue greets him a little sarcastically, “Good afternoon, Mr. A3.” She knew of Tom's penchant for taking names and using the initials to come up with a nickname or the like.

Tom, trying to be respectful, although he only wanted to get inside and rest, waves to the Knights.

“Hey, hard day,,,, gotta have a cup of coffee and hit the sack.”

Vern, looking at the so-called camper, asks wryly, “When you going to get rid of that camper and move in?” He knew he had a couple of vacancies, actually four, and he hated the thought of all those empty suites sitting there. He knew that he did not have much luck in getting any drop-in traffic. After all, they had just opened the new Motel 6 down the road a bit, closer to the Waffle House and the other fine eating establishments in Feeley Junction.

Tom, remembering he had said the same thing over and over, replies “Oh, Vern. You know I can't. When my songs get picked up, gotta put the wheels on the camper and move it to Nashville!”

Winking, with a grandmotherly smile, Sue asks, “Need some inspiration? I could tell you some sad stories...”

“Oh, Sue. What do you now about sad? You both retired, now enjoying life. No thanks, I still got some pent up hits in this heart of mine.”

“OK, at least we'll be able to tell'em we knew you when you were poor, unloved, overworked.”

Tom thought to himself “How can such nice people kid about my stinkin' life? Sue, you sure know how to make a man feel good about himself! See ya' later.” Leaving the Knights in the yard behind the motel, Tom makes his way toward the camper.

Home, sweet home! Before reaching the door he remembers he has to pull that old green tarp over his Vespa. Nothing worse than getting up in the morning only to find it rained, or a heavy morning dew, covering your seat.

Tom worked hard to dress professionally for the store, always wearing his tan pants, shirt and tie, and, of course, the blue sports coat with the Mr. Wong name tag meticulously placed above his left breast pocket. God, he loved his routine!

Inside, looking in the cardboard box in the corner, he thought about supper. There was no pantry, just barely enough room to turn around inside the camper.

“Lets see... what is for dinner....fake mac and cheese, nah, had it last night! What about some chicarones, an imported delicacy, fried pork skins, and red wine.... a romantic Mexican dinner!

"La freakin' cucharacha” Yeah, that'll inspire a hit, he thought.

Just as he is about to pour cabernet into his favorite plastic cup (why wash dishes?) his cell phone rings. Actually it was not a traditional ring but rather an old Hank Williams tune, “Your Cheating Heart," inspired by Stella from hella!

Recognizing the number as the A3, he decides has to answer it....

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?

The beginning

Tom T. Wong made his way into the small, dark back office much as he had done for the past three years. He really saw opening the store early every morning as a pleasant experience. He always arrived early, sometimes even two hours early. A little quiet time before the hectic happenings that sometimes occur in the world of retail management.

Although he was only the manager he took pride in the appearance and success of the small independently owned clothing and soft-goods store. Sure, it was located in a small town, sold only soft goods – clothing, shoes and the like. It was no big box retailer like WalMart or even K-Mart but it was the largest store in this strip shopping center. Even though it had grown since its inception it still retained the original name – Aisle Three.

Where did such a name come from? Although he did not know for sure, he had heard rumors that the original owner had a small store with only three aisles. Still, why else would someone name a store Aisle Three?

As the only son of an immigrant family from Taiwan, Tom always felt that he had to achieve success quickly. He had to show the world what a first generation American citizen could achieve. After all, his father had come to this country 35 years ago, back in 1972, with only his shirt on his back and the hope for success. He had been trained as teacher in his native country – an English language teacher. A skill that helped him assimilate into the small town culture.

It was here, in Feeley Junction, Florida, that he met his wife, Sue Ann. And created his American dream for Tom and his older sister. Feeley Junction, population 6832, if no one died overnight. Two grocery stores, three schools, and only one department store, the Aisle Three.

As a child Tom had always immersed himself in the American culture because he was an American! That is how he came to his first love. Oh, how he loved country music! Ever since he first listened to the Grand Ole Opry as a small boy he had loved the music. Having taken guitar lessons at the Feeley Junction Civic Center as an 8 year old, he dreamed of the day when he would be the next great country music songwriter.

That first guitar, a Sears Silvertone was his most prized position of his childhood. Although the quality wasn’t that great, it was like they played on the Opry, only cheaper. But that was OK. Tom knew that although his singing was not bad, his strength was in his ability to put music and words together! He knew this job, now going on three years, was only temporary, until he moved to Nashville.

Having married his childhood sweetheart, Estella Gray, Tom just knew that with her support he could make it. Sure, he was managing the department store. But, he had been there from the time he was in high school. He had worked his way up to, finally, Mr. Caracino, the owner, had made him the manager. A promotion only 12 years in the making. It wasn’t rapid promotion but it was more money. Yet, now over a decade later, he kept reminding himself that it was only temporary, although lately it appeared to be a permanent temporary position! Besides, it would not be long before the “cheap-marts” came to town, opened their super centers, and ran his business into the ground. Yep, just a stop in the road until he sold that first hit song.