GIRL MEETS BOY

THE

BOY

WHO

SENT

THE

DEAD

MAN'S

TWEET

Dramatis Personae

Georg Gilfred Finster Hanz von und zu Rikardsohn, a billionaire & brutal serial killer

Joe Richards, Rikardsohn's only son and heir/alias Bill Martin/alias Cecil

General Havelock

Agent Anisha Dorie

The Duke Of Eginhard, Gustaf  Eginhard

Boom Boom/The Dirty Duchess/Emma/Emmerich Holtsar

Yuri, leader of a gang of criminals

Suraj, camera man for the gang

Nadeem, criminal

Falak, criminal

Rita, Falak’s sister

Vijay, Rita’s 8 year old son, computer wiz, Alias Ehan Suman

Maraalika, Vijay’s girlfriend

Berdy Bernard Bartel, The Duke’s Right Hand Man

Tizam, Guard at Wambola Tree Lodge

Atu, Guard

Jojo, Guard

Kapeni The Knife, Personal Bodyguard to Emma

Lois, A Waitress in New Orleans

Teddy, A Trucker



Costee Von Massenbach, Ex-Military Brat



Woodrow Korn, Ex-Military Brat



Jack Deerwood,  Ex-Military Brat



Toli Thomas, Pilot for BERN



BERN: Private Global Organization,
The Brotherhood of the Einstein-Rosen Bridge



Leo and Iola Dupre, Caretakers of Gaburt Mansion



Debbie, Topless Waitress at Gatorland Gentleman's Club



Clarice, A New Stripper Called Suzie Q



Ann Weems, A 16 Year Old Runaway



Wayne Weems, Ann's Cousin



Dave Tripp, Owner of Gatorland



Buddy Brixton, A No Account Lowlife



Rose Brixton, Buddy's Mother



Beaufort Fletcher, A Bouncer at Gatorland


Gloria Fletcher, Beaufort's Wife


Victoria and Ilene Gaburt, Old Money

THE

GIRL

WHO

COULD

NOT

STOP

LAUGHING

Dramatis Personae

 Dramatis Personae

Selma Taylor, mysterious runaway

Sharon, Selma's roomate

Lester Stratford, Selma's boss at the Gazette

Dr. Andy Olaf, new age psychologist

Dr. Boris Brownlee, new age psychologist

Rousse, chef hired by Brownlee & Olaf

Mermaid Girls:

Peggy

Kimberly

Rachael

Kristin

Yvonne

Melissa

Georg Gilfred Finster Hanz von and zu Rikardsohn, a billionaire and brutal serial killer

Costee Von Massenbach, Rogue Military Brat

THE CAST OF THE GIRL WHO COULD NOT STOP LAUGHING

 Dramatis Personae

Selma Taylor, mysterious runaway

Sharon, Selma's roomate

Lester Stratford, Selma's boss at the Gazette

Dr. Andy Olaf, new age psychologist

Dr. Boris Brownlee, new age psychologist

Rousse, chef hired by Brownlee & Olaf

Mermaid Girls:

Peggy

Kimberly

Rachael

Kristin

Yvonne

Melissa

Georg Gilfred Finster Hanz von and zu Rikardsohn, a billionaire and brutal serial killer

Costee Von Massenbach, Rogue Military Brat

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO: NO PEPERONCINI FOR OLD MEN

By the time the Fourth Of July rolled around, my boss Lester Stratford and I were beer buddies.  There is no stronger bond between two people. A beer buddy is there when all other ties that bind have broken.  Some will argue that it was the beer buddy that broke the other bonds, but that was not my experience.

Of course, I was not of legal drinking age, but old man Lester did not corrupt me. I had not given my real name or my real age on the job application.  Lester knew me as Selma Taylor.  When I sometimes did not respond to that name, he would simply say, "See how you are?" I should have called myself Seehowyouare because in time I would hear that more often than any name I ever had.

"See how you are?  I get you into the biggest bash of the season and instead of meeting all the eligible bachelors gathered around the pool, I find you hiding in the smallest room in the mansion," Les handed me a glass of what looked like 7Up.

He was right. I was hiding in a small alcove on the second story that overlooked the swimming pool. The giant table that took up most of the room was filled with trays of hors d'oeuvres.  Now and then a waiter would buzz by and pick up a tray.  I was very overwhelmed by the size of the shindig. From here I could watch the action without getting sucked into anything I couldn't handle.  I wasn't completely safe in my little alcove.  Les had found me and a few minutes before a waiter handed me a stack of empty trays and snapped at me, "You're not getting paid to just stand there!" I was just getting up from stashing the trays under the buffet table when Les arrived.

"I was contemplating going under the table," I said to Les because that was better than letting him know about the waiter mistaking me for an underling.  I would never hear the end of it.

"I saw that," Les rubbed his gray stubble like he always did when he was trying to think of something terrible to say.

"What's this?" I asked him about the drink he had given me.

"Last night you said you wanted to be the next Hemingway and I couldn't very well bring you a shotgun, so I brought you this.  It's gin and tonic," Les' eyes lit up with delight as they always did when he said something awful.  He waited a respectable amount of time and when I did not appear mortified enough, his eyes returned to normal and he worked his way closer to the window.

"Who were you watching?" he asked me.  Lester knew everyone.

"Those three,"  I nodded in their direction.  You didn't need to give specific details.  The three of them were gesturing as if they were on a trampoline.

"The one that looks like he might resort to falling into the pool to escape is The Wolf Of Wall Street.  The two guys orbiting him so he can't escape are Andy Olaf and Boris Brownlee, a couple of lovey-dovey, new age psychologists who just purchased the dilapidated Mermaid Motel on The Strand.  The real estate agent who made the sale, Frank Whittle, is the guy over there behind the potted bird of paradise.  Andy and Boris are trolling the party for investors to help them convert the old motel into a showpiece.  I personally think the project is..."

I slapped Les' hand as he reached for a particular hor d'oeurve. I didn't want to listen to him moan about his bellyache the next day at the paper while I was trying to paste up the type.

"No peperoncini for old men," I said with an air of authority that I only possessed when I was kidding around with my boss.

"What's with the gold watch?" Les caught me off guard.  It wasn't exactly my style or my size but I couldn't bear to take it off.  I'd worn it since the day Von Massenbach loaned it to me.

"It was my father's.  I'd rather not talk about it," I lied.

"I see," Les backed away and changed the subject.  I imagined he set it aside for later, like a nice piece of candy.  I'd have to be ready for it.

~ To Be Continued ~ 

CHAPTER 1: LOCALLY WORLD FAMOUS SINCE 1973

I hitch-hiked from my home in Bainbridge, Georgia one summer and arrived in Manhattan Beach, California at 3:00 in the morning.  I gravitated towards The Kettle because it was the only place open.  It says on the menu that it has been locally world famous since 1973.

The giant black cauldron with the "Open All Night" sign underneath it was and continues to be a comforting sight. The Kettle restaurant was where I picked up my first copy of The Manhattan Beach Daily Gazette.  It was while pouring over that paper in the wee hours with a bottomless cup of coffee that I found the want ad that lead to my first job as a typesetter at that very newspaper. I found my first apartment in that same edition. I circled the roommate wanted ad and called the number the first thing in the morning.  I could have saved myself seventy five cents and just asked the waitress who was pouring all that coffee, because it turned out she was the one who had placed the ad.  Sharon worked the graveyard shift at The Kettle and I worked from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon at the MBDG settin' type.  Neither one of us could afford an apartment on our own, but since we worked different hours, it was almost like having your own place.

Anyway, I lost my job today. The MBDG is out of business.  It got bought by a bigger newspaper and we were all let go, even my boss Lester was sent packing.  They didn't have any use for us.  They just bought us and told us to get lost.  I worked there for three years and now here I am sittin' at my booth in The Kettle and circling ads in a different newspaper.  Sharon is pouring me cup after cup of coffee only this time she's givin' me suspicious looks.  She's worried about the rent.  I'm worried that I might find she's already placed an ad for a new roommate. 

Timing is everything. As I look out into my second jobless night in California, three years apart from my first jobless night in California, it dawns on me that if I had arrived in Manhattan Beach during the day, none of this might ever have happened.

Looking back over those three years, I guess the craziest thing that happened was when I decided to moonlight so I could buy a car.  That was when I met the girl who could not stop laughing.

~ To Be Continued ~