Hello All,

Here is a tip. Be realistic about the holidays. Do not expect to get any real work done. Unless you are really disciplined, you won't. So I have no Business Plan yet. I Do not have my first game ready for the web yet. I did find a source of start cash. Silly as it is, I'm selling my collection of Magic the Gathering cards to buy some little things like business card and legal fees for my little company. It's funny because I hope to compete with Hasbro (someday,) but hey, Magic is the greatest game every created so I would be proud to say that the company started with a Magic card sale. Anyway I looked into small business loans like www.prosper.com and credit cards but this is the best way for me. The eBay item number is 270074826047 and the sale starts 1/2/2007. Oh I do have this short story for you too. It is copyrighted so don't steal it. It is violent too, with some cursing, you were warned. But it is nice and short.

Crazy Old Man
by
Creppy

I hate this trailer park. There are always people walking and sitting around doing nothing, music blaring. They laugh loud and talk loud and tried to suck you into their nonsense. But I was here on business, nonsense of my own with my crazy old man. My father used my brother’s social security number to obtain a credit card. Ran up the balance and didn’t pay it. Creditors were calling me to find my brother, Mark. It is ridiculous. Mark and I intend to confront the old man about it.

It was that smell that hit me every time. It was the smell of skin, washed, but covered in unwashed clothes and sitting in an unwashed home. He is my brother and I love him but his house is dirty. I have to clear his son’s toys to get to the couch. There is a half eaten bacon mushroom sandwich on the beat up coffee table sharing space with pot seeds, cigarette ashes and some kind of caked on ketchup or barbecue sauce. Dishes still in the sink, a frying pan with coagulated bacon grease on top of the pile. Mark comes out from the back. His eyes are bloodshot and he has that goofy grin. I should just leave now I thought. Nothing will get through to him.

We had fun times growing up, Mark and I. We would laugh at the old man when he would threaten to come upstairs and force us to bed. We knew he wouldn’t move from that chair. He was a joke, we all knew mom was the enforcer, but he tried.

“Dude, you have to report him.” I said. “You can’t let him mess up your credit, you have to be able to pay for stuff in an emergency.” I was tired of doing this for him.

“You can’t call the cops man.” A Blues Brothers movie quote, it was hopeless.

“Fine I’m leaving. Do whatever you want. He is stealing from you. I would report him, before I let him steal from me.”

“He just got out of Joilet.” More Blues Brothers. God. It was true though, the crazy old sucker just got out of prison. He tried to beat this guy with a monkey wrench. Which was unbelievable to me, but true. My father only stood about five feet nine inches tall and was probably a good forty pounds overweight, plus he was generally without a temper. He took a job. He was selling meat door to door from a refrigerated truck. He went to his girlfriend at the time ex-husband’s house with an empty refrigerated truck and a monkey wrench and landed in jail for a couple years.

“Check this out.” Mark produced black device.

“What is that?” He hit the button and a blue light jumped between to sharp metal rods. The air crackled.

“A taser. I tried to get this guy with it yesterday. He stole two hundred bucks and made off with a quarter bag. I got close to the bastard, but he grabbed my hand and pushed me back.” I knew my brother sold drugs. I didn’t know he had to defend the business from time to time. I did not want to get into this discussion. I did not want to explain that there was little difference between this and someone using a credit card in your name.

“I have to piss.” I will piss and leave. I can’t take this place. I walked to the back of the trailer and stood. The black mold in the bathtub was distracting. The filth made it difficult to function. I heard the crazy old man arrive.

There was some heated discussion. Mark was letting him have it. Odd I never really heard him get this mad. I was finally able to piss. The argument continued and I knew I needed to get in there. I finally heard my father yell. “I don’t have any money.”

“You’re a thief.” Mark yelled back.

I heard a crack and a thump. I ran out to see Mark hunched over the old man. The taser lay on his chest.

I backed into the kitchen.

“He is dead. He is freaking dead!” Mark’s red eyes started to tear up. This is out of hand. I have another mess to clean up now. Dead father, brother standing there with that stupid look on his face. Mark is looking at me. He is scared. I’m scared.

“What do we do?”

I reached back and found the handle of what I knew was the frying pan. I took a little hop step forward and swung with all the strength I could manage. Mark dropped. Gasped. He was dead. Skull crushed, he bled from his forehead onto my father. Two crazy buggers, now I have a bigger mess. Bigger? I feel better suddenly, calm. I have a final mess to clean up.

I left and took the frying pan with me. I never went back there. There were questions but I was never a suspect. I guess everyone thought I was just to mild tempered for something so violent.