The smile of the fates.

The winter was harsh and the summer boiling,

During all this time his body showed the signs of his toiling.

Muscles ached and his head throbbed in pain,

Waking up and going to work was driving insane.


He wished to retire and no longer perspire,

But the bills arrived one by two,

And then he lost so much money the time he was sued.

Broke and barely able to pay the bills,

He was so tired of paying them and taxes rules.


It seemed each month he was further behind,

It was the omens of the times and he was born under the wrong sign.

But a lottery ticket changed his luck and he won big,

He held the ticket in his hand as he crossed the road and then hit by the semi rig.


Laying there dying with a fortune in his hand,

Knowing he was dying he looked to pass the fortune before he turned to sand.

He handed it to a beggar who held his head as he died,

He tried to give it to him and then he passed with a sigh.


The beggar did not understand this paper that the man handed him,

It meant nothing to him for he was feeble minded and his mind was dim.

And later that day after the dead was taken away,

He slipped the lottery ticket in his shoe to cover the hole, the lottery ticket did not save the day.


The beggar with a lottery ticket in his shoe worth millions if cashed,

Soggy at first then it became mish mashed.

Destiny and fate have a smile on the smirking face,

Of the creator who lives above in the heavenly place.

The Record Killer: a serial killer short story

The Record Kille By Barry Wax

Chapter One:  The Machete Killer



Bill Hardy stretched out his cramped arms and tried to put circulation back into them.  He took his right hand and massaged his left arm.  He had been in the same place for too long and was cramping up.  He was in the driver seat in an unmarked police car watching a decoy for hours.  Surveillance was not his favorite pastime but that was part of the job.  Most people think there is an air of excitement about FBI work.   But in truth it was long hours of monotony.  The paperwork was enormous and the waiting around would tax the average man or woman to distraction.  The current case was a prime example of that.  Since arriving in Fort Lauder dale, Florida they had been working almost around the clock.  The case had them working until the wee hours of the morning and exhaustion was starting to make them a little jumpy.  They were part of a task force of both FBI and locales trying to catch a serial killer who had been dubbed by the newspapers as “The Machete Killer” because of his choice of execution of his victims.

They did not have much to go on.  It was definitely a male based on thumb prints that they had obtained from the victims.  They also knew he used a machete after torturing the victim and then for good measure cut off their heads and placed them at the crime scene in a particular gruesome pose. The killer so far placed the head on a television set, coffee table, in the shower stuck on the shower head, and the latest victim on the sofa cushion watching television. No one had figured out the connection between where the victims head was in relation to the body but Bill thought it was purely for shock value. So far the count was four. He had decapitated two prostitutes in New Orleans and now two in Fort Lauder dale.  Since he had crossed state lines the FBI now worked with the local police.

Bill took another sip of his coffee and rubbed his eyes. Coffee was a tool to stay awake

But it always gave him heartburn and he lived on Tums on a daily basis. Hardy knew that this was not a good thing.  Eventually he would be paying the “piper” at some doctor’s office.  But right now there was a killer to catch and that was all he could focus on.  He was a one thought pony.  Sometimes he concentrated on something so much that he was oblivious to things happening around him.  He should have been focusing on the woman decoy up the street but his mind was zeroed in on why the murderer was situating the heads.  The first one was on the television set, the second on a coffee table, the third in the shower hooked to the shower head, and the last on a sofa looking at the television which was off.  What was the connection?    He had the pictures memorized in his head.  To anyone else they would be revolting but this was the world of a revolting person.  He did not hack the heads off but lopped them from the bodies in a single motion.  Then slowly a thought drifted into his mind.  The killer was using a machete because he had used that instrument over and over again.  A strong man, a man who uses a machete, a… a… cutter of sugar cane.  Could it be? The more he thought of the concept the more it made sense.  The killer was a man who cut sugar cane for a living.  A big man.  The blade angle cutting down and therefore slicing the head with an angle.  Always right to left.  Therefore a right handed man.  His train of thought was then interrupted by his partner Amos.

“We are out of glazed.” Amos said almost to himself but loud enough to intrude on his partners thoughts.

“Alright, we will have to sacrifice.”  Hardy stated, not feeling his partners pain.

If Hardy had an anti-acid problem his partner definitely had a weight problem and should avoid the donuts anyway.

“You know working out in the gym requires time in the gym and buddy you have need of more time in the gym.”  Hardy said this and then regretted mentioning it.  His partner had a temper problem and one thing that triggered it was mentioning his expanding waist size.

“I still can outrun you!” was the comeback Amos used.  It had no meaning but Amos had to be careful to a certain extent.  He was in a world of the White Man and he knew to stay in the background if he wanted to get ahead.  This was not the time to bump heads.  He wanted to but his better instincts came into play.

The woman decoy was half way up the block and trying to be sexy to seduce the killer to take a chance on her. Amy was five foot three and a half inches tall, brown hair, long legs and body parts that matched up nicely. She was in her early twenties and attending the police academy when Bill recruited her for this assignment. It was a risky ploy and Bill extended himself picking the cadet. Amos was dead set against the choice feeling she needed more seasoning but the commander of the academy

approved of the choice and Amos acquiesced. Amos still had reservations worrying that what

would she do in an emergency but Bill was a senor agent and he had the pull. Meanwhile Amy was

delighted to take the assignment. She was a girl of vitality and, although her fellow cadets told

Her that she was not ready she ignored them for this was a big break for her. Then again Bill

reassured her that she would be in no danger for she would be under his surveillance at all times.

Everyone assumed she was choose because of her looks and at random but in truth Bill was

smitten with her and secretly met her on the outside in clandestine meetings. They kept these

rendezvous to themselves because it was totally against protocol but there was definitely an

attraction between the two of them.

The morning of the stakeout Amy showed up at the academy Bill and Amos recapped

the details of the plan with her. A wire was taped to her and they checked it numerous times.

They picked an area for her to patrol where she would have little competition and could practice

her moves. That night they headed out and set up their trap. Within fifteen minutes Amy had her

first offer. After Amos and Bill interrogated the john it was determined he was not the killer but

an innocent scumbag. After three hours Amy was hit on by a half dozen other johns but no

machete killer.

It started to lightly sprinkle and she nervously played with her locket around her neck. It

gave her comfort and she shouldn’t have taken it on assignment. For over two years she was

seeing Joe Villa and kept it on the hush-hush. He was from the wrong side of the tracks and had

a minor record. She pushed him to clean up his act and stay away from the gang which was

pressuring him to join them. Secrecy became the key to their relationship and she confined it to

no one for she feared what the administration would do if they found out about her lover. Even

her own mother was in the dark about the relationship.   A year ago Villa joined the army with a

recruitment officer.  This recruiter was more into getting the numbers than investigating the enlistees.  He somehow got around the minor record Villa had accumulated.   Within two months Joe was shipped out to get training and deployed to Iraq. Before he left he gave Amy the locket. There were two parts. The one she had his picture in it and he wore the other half with her picture. It was this half of the locket that she unconsciously played with while on the street hoping to be picked up by the “machete

killer” and help capture him to make a name for herself.

“I am getting soaked out here, can we call it a day,” Amy said through the microphone

while shivering from the rain.

Bill looked at his watch and saw it read three ten in the morning. He put on his

windshield wipers and said, “You’re right we will pick you up in a second.”

Bill looked at Amos who was turning around in his seat to get donuts out of Dunking Donuts box he had back there.

Amos always keep the donuts on the back seat so he had to make an effort to get them because

he was on a diet and tried to keep the sugar addition off his mind.  Somehow he thought turning around would make him hesitate and secure another sugary piece of cake.

There was a light sprinkle of rain on the windshield and when Bill activated the windshield wipers they streaked and caused Bill to lose sight of Amy. The smudge only blocked the view for only a few seconds but during that small amount of time Amy scream’s came over the bug. Bill strained to look out

the window but lost sight of their decoy. As it rained more the next swipe cleared windshield

enough to indicate that Amy was gone.

Amos yelled in the bug, “Amy what’s your twenty, are you okay? speak to us.” But the

bug was silent. Bill drove the car up quickly and both men rushed out of the vehicle. The

drizzle turned into a steady rain. They strained to see where Amy had gone. “Look, the door

to that building is open.” Amos pointed to a door that was moving in the breeze. It appeared

likely that was where Amy might have gone. Bill looked down and said, “Isn’t that the locket

that Amy wears.” He picked up. “Amos get the flashlights from the car and call in for backup.”

While Amos was doing that he went to the open door and walked in with his gun drawn. The

building was an abandoned hotel with at least two floors. Amos joined him and handed him a


“Looks like a hotel,” he stated. There was a staircase to the left and Bill shined his

light on the stairs. A shoe was on one of the steps and Amos picked it up.

“It is hers.”

“Yeah, we better move it, we cannot just wait here for backup.”

The killer had taken Amy by surprise. She was shivering on the street while he watched

her from the abandoned hotel. She was stomping her feet trying to keep warm. He came up

from behind her and clamped his hand over her mouth. She struggled and tried to scream. He

carried her small body twisting and turning and yanked it back to the open door of the hotel. He

was huge and immensely strong. Her training at the academy was forgotten in the immediate

rush of her opponent. She was like a rag doll. Inside the hotel it was dark and smelled musty.

He threw her against the wall and hit her in the face knocking her out. He then climbed the stairs

of the hotel with her body slung over his shoulder.

He took her into a room and tied her up on a contraption he had prior rigged on the back

wall of the hotel room. He tried to revive her because he was not turned on raping an

unconscious girl. The feeling of conquest was important to him. He had prepared the room in

advance. He had lit the candles of love in the room. They gave off the aroma of incense and he

thought in the back of his mind that would arouse his victim. He poured some water into a glass

and threw the water into her face hoping she would regain consciousness.

Amos and Bill almost tripped over a pile of debris on the second floor. Amos knelt

down and then realized that the pile was the body of a derelict.

“Where is his head?” Amos said softly.

Bill flashed his light around the open area. “There it is, on the desk over there.” He

walked over to it and flashed the light on the head with its open eyes. “Bastard put it there for

affect, looks like this guy’s been dead for a while. We had better split up. I will go up this row of

rooms and you take the other side.”

The two men separated and went down their respective hallways.

Bill worried about his the girl and how she was holding up. His gut was not giving off positive

vibrations and the heartburn was getting bad. Bill was now six rooms down and he could not see

Amos flashlight beam. He heard a muffled noise from the next room, took the door handle and

barged into the room.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him. There was light in the

room because of the lit candles that shown flickers of the scene. It was surrealistic and bizarre.

On the other side of the room was the machete killer. Bill deduced this because he had one

handed raised above his head with his weapon of choice. The killers immense body blocked the

view of Amy but Bill instinctively knew she was there.  He was not sure if she was alive or


Bill yelled, “Freeze or I’ll shoot,” but knew in his heart the killer would not obey him. He

held his gun in front of him. Bill did not use what the FBI issued but instead had a Glock 23. It

was his personal favorite and being high up in the FBI he could get away with the indiscretion.

Hardy mirrored himself a little like James Bond.

The beast turned around and ran out Bill with his machete above his head. Bill took a

stance and started blasting away. Bullet after bullet hit the approaching fiend but did not slow

him down. His momentum and his size overcame the recoil of the force of the gun. Finally he

was right in front of Bill and ready to strike. Bill was able to grab his hand with machete in it

and held it from striking down. He took his gun and fired up into the brute. The first shot went

through the brutes neck straight into his brain and into the ceiling above. The second bullet went

in a path in front of the first bullet and exited out of an eye socket. All of a sudden, as if the wind

is knocked out of him, the killer crumpled into a pile burying Bill. He did not feel pain from

the blade that had sliced him on the shoulder but waves of exhaustion and being buried under a

huge individual who was latter measured at six foot eleven caused him to go unconscious.

Amos heard the shots and rushed towards the room. As he approached he yelled out,

“Bill, where are you?” Bill could not answer for waves of nausea ran through him as he realized

the machete had sliced through his shoulder and he was bleeding. Faintly he called out to Amos,

“here” before passing out from the shock of being cut and viciously attacke Bill finally stirred when the EMT gave him a whiff of salts to revive him. He was

in the back of an ambulance and was being attended to by the man in white.

He saw Amos, “what happened,” he muttered the words garbled by a shot he had been given for the pain.   Bill

tried to sit up but could not. “You got a little cut up by the killer, but it’s not too bad. You did

get lucky because one of your shots blew his brains out.” Amos instinctively brushed away

something on the shoulder of his jacket but did not tell Bill that some of the killers brain tissue

had plopped down on him from the ceiling.

“Where am I?” Bill asked.

“We are on the way to the hospital so they can stitch you up. The killer is on the way to

the morgue.”

“Where is Amy?”

Amos hesitated, knowing it had to be said but he did not want to say it. “She’s dead and

there was nothing we could do to save her.” Amos left it at that. He did not add that it was one

of Bill’s bullets going through the killer that took her life. At that point there was nothing to gain

by telling his partner that he did what the killer had planned to do. Instead of saving Amy the

protectors’ actions caused her death.


If you liked this  chapter let me know in comments and I will send you the next chapter. Loved to know if you liked it.



My wife doth harp



Why Does my wife Have to Harp?

Why do people yell, scream and carp?

It is bad enough when you are right but then you continue to gloat,

You harp on and on and force the fact you are right down my throat.

It does not matter what the subject is or whether it matters or not,

I just resent it like hell when you constantly act like the big shot.

You won the battle now rub my nose in it till it is raw and bloody,

It is a clear cut victory for you and now I am battered and muddy.

I need a break to come back to a semblance of ego,

I need a win of some sorts, a moment to say BINGO.

So the next time we fight for whatever the cause or the fact,

Give me a chance to win, make this a kind of conciliatory act.

Remember I need a win for the Loser in me,

Something I can put under my Christmas tree.

Okay I will admit you win in ninety percent of the cases that is true,

But let me win once in a while and remember that it is because I love you.


And the king of the jungle said to those around him, “Believe in me” for I will make it great and all will be good.  I can deal with all the problems and resolve them properly.  All you need is to believe in me.

And the masses followed the king like lemmings followed the Piped Piper.

But the trouble was that the piper had only one tune and really no knowledge of music.

Thus the king was in the same vein.  He was good at deals for he was powerful and people fawned around him as if he was an idol.  And those who did not deal was trampled down as insignificant bumps in the road.

The king trumped all and was anointed.  And then he feasted.  He feasted on those who blindly followed him.  He was the king and who says no to the king.

Fear the king.

The Circle of Life of a Frog

The frog swallowed his pride and left the lotus leaf.  He had considered it is paradise.  A territory of his own.  But the comfort of his pad had corrupted  with age.  The renewal of life.  You are born and age or morph into a middle age with all its hormones and growth and then settle in for the long haul to old age and the wisdom of time.

The frog did not relate the lily pad to his own plight.  He too had gone from tadpole to now old age.  His ability to zip his tongue and catch the mosquito or fly now diminished.  He felt the age in his bones but did not connect the diminished functions with his advanced age.

Off the lily pad he jumped to another.  A new one and not his comfort zone.  Like an old person in an assisted home, he just could not get comfortable on it.

And then as thousands of frogs prior to his birth and thousands more after his coming, he died.

That is correct, he did the croak.  And he slid off the lily pad and decomposed in the lake of his environment.  He became food for the tadpoles of the youth.



How would you like to go through life with the ugli as your name?

Everyone talking behind your back and you have to wear the moniker of shame.


But you are fruit, ripe and tasty to the lips and tongue,

Eaten in Jamaica, you are a hybrid, a blend of three, and a son.

A hybrid of grapefruit, orange and tangerine,

You are the opposite of the concept of obscene.


But the name stops people in their tracks,

If only they could overcome it and face the facts.

It is not a name which implies a bad taste,

There is more to you and you are not a disgrace.


You can mix it in rum and make a hot toddy,

In your tummy it goes and that is not shoddy.

It can be made into a marmalade and smeared on a cake,

You can use it in ice cream and scooped in cones to take.




Eating the Flesh


In Upton Sinclair’s book, The Jungle, there is vivid descriptions of the slaughter of animals to prepare them for consumption.

Here is the gist of the third chapter:

Jokubas takes the family on a tour of Packingtown. They are amazed to see pens packed with tens of thousands of cattle, pigs, and sheep. The suffering of the animals, which will all be killed by the end of the day, daunts even Jurgis’s optimism. But the flurry of human activity fills Jurgis with wonder. Jokubas notes sarcastically the signs regarding the sanitation rules. The government inspector who checks the slaughtered pigs for signs of tuberculosis often lets several carcasses go unchecked. Spoiled meat is specially doctored in secret before it is scattered among the rest of the meat in preparation for canning and packing.

At this time there is little supervision of the plants butchering the meats.  The inspectors look the other way, are bribed or inundated by the vast amount of work that they cannot adequately evaluate the carnage around them.  But then again that was 1906.

Update to the present.

The F.D.A. allows for  a hefty bowl of spaghetti is permitted 200 or so bug fragments—one for every gram of pasta—fifteen fly eggs, and a maggot.  Yummie.  We have come a long way.  As for the slaughter of animals we do it quicker and we are given the concept of there is no pain.

Make sure you are slaughtering at the right time of year, or even day. Try to avoid slaughtering and butchering cattle, or any other animals, during fly season, which is typically between May and October in most countries except Australia. For some areas, you can butcher anytime between October and May, especially the areas that don’t get much or any snow and temperatures remain 40 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius) during the day.

    • However, the window for slaughtering cattle is much more narrower for areas that do get snow from November or December through to May. For these areas, slaughtering should be done in the fall, between October to the first snowfall.
    • You should also note the time that your animals were born and when the best age and time to slaughter should be. For example, if the steer you are raising on grass was born in April and you are wanting to slaughter him when he’s around 18 months of age, then you should slaughter in October of the following year. However, if the steer was born in February and you want to slaughter at the same age (18 months), then you may have to consider waiting a couple of months more (into October or November instead of in August of the following) to slaughter it.
    • Consider withholding feed for 24 hours prior to slaughter. It’s not totally necessary, but it’s easier to clean or gut an animal when there is no food in the gastro-intestinal (GI) tract than if there was. But if you feel bad about leaving your cattle hungry before slaughter, then that’s fine too. But remember to be very careful when the skinning and cleaning process has to commence.