AACHOO VOO, PRIVATE EYE Episode 2

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye
Episode Two
                                                                                             

                                                                         

     Lance was cool. He didn't bat an eye. (Well, actually, he did but he always did that for effect.) "I'll be back," he said softly, "you know, you really are hard on a guy. This is the third pair of pants I've lost at your place." And I blushed, remembering the jelly incident and the slamming the door on his pants leg incident and the....well, that was enough remembering for now. Like I said, me and laundry just didn't get along. Maybe it was all that innate rebellion stemming from childhood and the fact that gathering up dirty clothes to wash had been a hated chore.

Most of the time I just gathered them up and threw them in the furnace but there came that day when my dad was late for work and couldn't find a thing to wear and  the jig was up. I was grounded for a month and my mom made me learn to sew and make all my own clothes for the rest of the school year. It was not a pretty story. Most of the time, I went around looking like the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.


Which was an embarrassment, especially to my mother, because she was born into high society and despised the lower classes, which included her in-laws. We were in a class by ourselves, of course, but still, that particular punishment backfired on her and she tried to keep me out of the public eye as much as possible. My Dad thought it was a terrible thing for her to do because he adored me, and kept slipping me money to "Go buy yourself something pretty." But I just saved up to buy myself something I would really need in the future. It was my junior year and I sneaked out to the Ayers' Used but Lovely Resale shop and bought myself a prom dress that didn't have discernible stitches and upside down zippers and told my mother that I had made it with my own little fingers.  But I digress........(It was an interesting year.)

The parrot snickered at me as the side door closed and I snickered back and turned on the radio to drown him out. I noticed the water in the fish tank was mysteriously low and the fish were kinda gasping for air and had drawn little frownie faces in the algae. I refilled the thing and threw in some fish food and erased their artwork and went to get the mail. I was looking for a check from Big david, the mobster who spelled his name with a little d. I had done some work for his sister and he'd promised to mail me some moo-la. I didn't much like his kind but his sister Prudence was nice enough. The case concerned her cheating husband, Ricky and the fact that he had gone on vacation with her worst best friend after cleaning out the bank account. I found the two louses on the beach in Mexico.


I had actually found them on my second day there but didn't report back to Prudence until eleven days had passed. I needed a vacation and the lovebirds needed to get all that pent up passion out of their systems before Big david shot 'em. I thought that was the least I could do. Neither one of them had two brain cells to rub together. He was short and she was tall. He was an accountant and she was no account. They were perfect for one another.
The check was not in the mail.


I picked up the newspaper and noticed a handsome face on the front page. It looked vaguely familiar. Very familiar, actually. Said the face had been found murdered the night before by a night watchman on his rounds at Marshall's Hardware and Hat Emporium. That was where I bought all my furniture refinishing products and the occasional hat. No wonder the face looked familiar. It belonged to Si, the shellacking specialist. A smooth talker, if there ever was one. A fairly nice guy but there was something about his shifty eyes that gave me the shivers.


 He flirted with you from the time you walked in the door until you bought twenty five cans of Shellac and then insisted upon delivering your purchase to your place of residence. All the time trying to impress you with his extensive knowledge of wood and how to care for it. He looked like a would-be movie star but there was just something.......you couldn't put your finger on it, no matter how hard he tried to get you to put your finger on it.....you just couldn't. Like I said, he had shifty eyes. They darted. They looked you up and down. Undressed you and dressed you again in satin.


I shuddered, remembering the last time I'd seen him. That would have been last Saturday. I needed to strip my neighbor's old chest that he had been bugging me about and I was all out of sandpaper and stripper and had run in to the store that afternoon hoping someone other than Si would be behind the counter. No such luck. "Well, hello there, you good looking, thirst quenching, pretty polished piece of fine furniture!" he said exuberantly as I stepped inside. "How may I be of service?" And I blanched. At least I think I did. I'm not really sure what blanch means but it sounds appropriate. "Just need a few items, thank you." I said as unfriendly-like as I could manage but it didn't put him off. He was on me like ugly on a baboon's bottom. Came out from behind that counter, took my arm, and led me back to where we usually ended up, the Tung Oil aisle.

"Listen, Miss Voo, I need help and you're the only one that can help me!" he whispered urgently, as he looked around to see if anyone was near. I didn't think much about it at the time because he always said that to me but thinking back now, it was pretty obvious that he'd actually meant it.  I just hadn't been in the mood to help him. Now he was dead. The paper said he had been found in a pool of paint thinner. He wasn't wearing any socks. He had been clutching a folder full of receipts and a corkscrew. I felt bad. Not bad bad but pretty bad. I wondered who had killed him and why.


 I  also wondered if I'd been the only girl he'd sold Shellac to and flirted with so relentlessly. I wondered if he'd just flirted with the wrong girl this time. On the other hand, he'd probably been married, guys like him always are, no matter what they say or how hard they try to hide their missing wedding band tan lines with furniture polish. You could always tell. It had been the wife, I was sure of it. Too bad. He was a doll dizzy creep but he sure knew his wood grains.


I shook my head and put the paper down and went to change out of the pink bathrobe. I had twelve of them hanging in the closet. Pretty soon, I'd need to replenish my supply. I hoped they still carried my size and style at the bathrobe shop. I had bought up their entire stock last time I was there. I told them I was buying them for gifts. (It was none of their business.)
I threw the soiled pink robe into the trash and stood there naked, looking for something jazzy to put on. I had a movie date with Andy at four. He was sweet. I liked him and he liked me. We had been out twice and neither time had I set him on fire or tripped him with my long legs or turned his clothes into rags. I was the epitome of grace with him and it felt wonderful. Yes, I was looking forward to this afternoon's matinee and the smell of popcorn and aftershave.

I forgot the day's headline about Si, the Shellac salesman and his untimely demise, and giggled happily as I put on my hose. Then the phone rang. And I heard the bird in the kitchen say, "Pick up the phone. What am I, your slave?" Stupid bird. "Answer it yourself!" I shot back and fell in a tangle of hose and garter belt and a box of bath powder and an open bottle of turpentine that came down from the counter at the same time that I did. Well, at least I didn't have on socks when I got into the shower this time.


                                                                           

                                                                                 

TO BE CONTINUED......in episode three

STARRING in our cast of characters.................
                                friends from myspace and other sites
                                      and personal friends and family members

david, Si, Lance Strait, Voo, Andy, the fish and the un named parrot


david   "qzert" from myspace                                 
                                                                    and

        Richard Bellamy as 

Big david the mobster

                                                                                           

 Si (the poet no one could impress)
from myspace...................    

                        

                      And Craig Stevens as Si the Shellac salesman

Andy of myspace land 
The Last Digital Bastion    

 Ray Milland as young Andy

special note of thanks to the following for use of their names:

********Ayers and Marshall*********

(Rusty and Linda)

and Prudence

                                          

THE STORY OF THE STORM

The Story of the Storm

I hear it now, the thunder roaring

Warning me of rain to come

Warning me of winds to blow

Waiting for you here at home

 I hold my breath, anticipating

Waiting for the drops to fall

The first hot hits of  lovely lightning

The violent wind to howl it's call

And where are you, my best beloved

In this prologue of gothic weather?

Are your ears tuned in to the thunder

As my heart aches to be together?

You know how I love the thunder 

And I've always danced in rain

Never feared a lightning bolt

And  how a storm takes away my pain

Look, the skies grow darker now

See the clouds scroll back to let

The rain pour down on dry dust as

I run out into the wet

Ah, there it comes, the  pouring rain

And here it comes, the wanting you

And there you are, the welcomed home

Into my hungry arms on cue

And the tale is told

And the deed is done

And the end finds it's place

In the sleep of the sun

But what of the epilogue

And what of the end?

When the storm has passed over

And has taken the wind?

Will we lie down in wonder

Or cower in fear

That the storm sought to keep you

From meeting me here?

For the same thing that l love

That I anticipate

Will one day take you from me

And that storm I'll berate

But of this we don't know now

And you will never see

As we lie in the aftermath

Of the storm, you and me.

©By Voo

June 12, 2017

5:22  p.m.

Written just now

as I listen to the thunder rolling in

and to the first raindrops fall

As The Thunder Rolls guitar instrumental

AACHOO VOO, PRIVATE EYE EPISODE ONE

Think Dead Men Don't Wear  Plaid and the 1940s and you'll get it.................enjoy!!

                       Peter Gunn theme by The Blues Brothers



Aachoo Voo, Private Eye
Episode 1


      It was starting out to be one of those days. You know the kind. The kind where you get in the shower with your socks on and don’t even realize it until you notice the soaking wet footprints all over the newly cleaned living room carpet. The cat gave me one of those “you-know-I-hate-water looks and dove under the bed to play with the dust bunnies. The dog, however, eyed me adoringly and slopped up the Evening in Paris scented tracks with gusto and a couple of bubbles oozed out between his teeth but he seemed happy enough.

I shrugged and took off my wet socks and threw them in the trash. I wasn’t big on doing laundry. I’d rather buy new stuff than tote baskets down to the Sit and Spin and watch little old ladies get mugged as their machines cycled down. I wasn’t thrifty but I was practical. That’s what everybody said about me. Except my Mom.

I was stirring up some pancake batter and frying some swine when I heard a knock on the door. Not the front door. The side door where only men that were up to no good knocked. We’ve all got one of those, don’t we? (Doors, I mean.) “Come in!” I yelled as I poured the sweet batter into the hot, sizzling skillet and removed the bacon almost at the same time from the other pan. I had skills. Everybody said so.

The door swung open and there stood Lance, twirling a white coffee cup on his pinkie finger and looking like he’d just had a rough night with Marilyn Monroe. He lived upstairs but he was hardly ever there. I didn’t know what he did for a living but I was a witness that the boy knew how to live. I have to admit it, he was a pretty thing, tall and dark, with a swagger in his walk and a come-hither look in his eyes that made me weak in the bread basket. Oh, he was a little rough, maybe, a little splintered, but I wanted to throw him down on top of the cabinet and give him a good shellacking. (Oh, did I mention I’m into furniture refinishing as a hobby?)

                                         

    

“I…I..was running low and I thought I’d stop by for a fill up.” he smiled that crooked little smile of his and I dropped a pancake somewhere in the vicinity of my big toe. It was hot, it burned like hell, but I didn’t mind. “Sure,” I murmured, “help yourself.” and pointed towards the percolator. As he poured the steaming black, hot coffee into his cup, I turned, hiding my face as I silently screamed in pain and took the pancake off my bare foot and threw it to the dog. He gulped it gratefully and then gave me a look between “Oh, thank you! and What the hell!?” The phone rang. It was in the living room. Lance said, “You gonna get that, Sugar?” And I stood there, undecided and let it ring twelve more times. It was probably my mother. She always called at that time of morning. And every hour after that. She had no life. And consequently, neither did I.

Lance walked into the living room, carrying his cup and looked intensely at the phone like he could tell who had been calling just by looking at it. “One of your big cases, no doubt.” he shrugged and sat down on my tweed sofa. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and said, “No doubt. Have a seat and I’ll join you in a minute.” I ran to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water on my flushed face, combed back my tousled hair and slathered bacon grease all over my neck. (I knew what guys liked.)

I straightened my pink bathrobe and put on some Pink Frappe lipstick that I kept a tube of in the corner drawer. “Aachoo?” Lance called out and the parrot that my mom had gifted me with said, “Bless you!” even though he knew it irritated me to no end. He was big and gray and a slob. His cage was always a mess and he ate me out of house and home. “Be quiet.” I shushed him as I entered the living room and turned my back to the bird. He squawked and threw a peanut at me but i ignored him and smiled hesitantly at my guest.

“What can I do for you, Lance?” I wondered out loud, not realizing that I was merely wondering out loud and hadn’t really said anything. “I guess you’re wondering why I stopped by so early…..” he said somberly, even though it was already 10:30 but then people like us didn’t believe in early birds and getting worms and that kind of thing. We were Afternooners. Night owls. Midnight riders. Children of the night. Gumshoes. Well, I was a gumshoe. I had no idea how he made his living. There were rumors. There was talk.

 The big blousy bleached blonde down the hall who didn’t like anybody liked him and was always pulling me aside and asking if I’d seen him. “Have you seen Lancy?” she’d ask in her coy and disturbing manner. “I haven’t seen him around in days and I have something I need to give him.” And she’d bat those four inch eyelashes and I’d get a little ill in my tummy. I always told her that I thought he had run off to get married. (I had a mean streak no mother could ever spank outta me.)

“Yes, I was wondering about that. ” I said softly and brushed back my wavy dark hair as his eyes met mine over the white coffee cup. “Would you like some more?” I offered, meaning coffee, but the look he gave me said he was there for a whole lot more of a whole lot more. “I sure would, Sugar!” he grinned and handed me the cup. “I’ll take all you got this morning! I’ve had a very long and adventurous night and I’m running on fumes.” For some reason, that kinda upset me and I hoped he wouldn’t go into detail but he seemed in a talkative mood.

He followed me into the small yellow kitchen and as I refilled his cup, he stood behind me so closely I could feel his day old stubble on the back of my head. “Man, you smell good enough to eat!” he exclaimed and breathed deeply of my essence. I was glad I had put on the bacon perfume. It was an old trick and it worked every time. I cleared my throat and turned to him quickly, spilling the hot black coffee all down the front of my bathrobe but I pretended not to notice. He took the empty cup from my hand, set it down and began to dab at the spill with a dish rag, never taking his brown eyes off mine. “You don’t burn easy, do you?” he breathed noisily and I breathed back just as noisily, “No, I reckon not. I’m a girl that keeps her cool.” 

“Oh, Aachoo!” he murmured seductively, raking his hand through my hair and from the corner of the kitchen, the bird merrily called out, “Bless you!” “Shut up!” we both shouted at the same time and went back to whatever we were doing. I pulled away then and he kind of groaned a little cause my bathrobe button had caught on his zipper and ripped it out of his pants. It was one of those things that frequently happened to me. I didn’t know why.

                                       It just did.

©By Voo
Nov 9, 08
                               

                                              
Lance (Tony Curtis)

my friend Professor Lance Strait as Lance>>

           

me (Voo) as Aachoo Voo.........(of course)

                                        and Cleo Moore as The Blonde down the hall......


*************************************************************

                                                                           Woof!

Old Radio Show 
Sam Shovel
thanks JR!!!

INSANITY OF THE TRIBES a collab with Voo and Rusky from Oz

         Earth Drum song

Insanity of the Tribes

             a collab result of......................

                  (Mental Wrestling across the Miles)

                     He

The water rippled across her back

Her long dark mane of hair a duck tail at the end

Drenched were we both in the stream

As I pulled her from the rivers edge

Coughing, we took stock of our wounds.

                   I

And I, in wet and wild dismay

Fought, not ungently, against the flow

Curious, bewildered, wanting, not wanting

Tasting water I had yet to drink

I found a kind of healing in your hands.

                       He

We breathed shallow on the banks

My love, an arrowhead buried in her thigh

The insanity of the tribes my silent cry

And a small wince as I pulled it from her flesh

We held tight and I stopped the bleeding with clay and leaves.

                               I

You have hurt me, I said without accusation

For I did not know the ways of man,

The way of the warrior beyond my boundaries

You have torn me and healed me again

You, with the eyes of a tribe I've never touched.

                             He

There was a silence between my love and I 

We whispered  words together, with inaudible sound

As our flesh drew close, I said:

" I am a human being and I recognize nothing other than this love,

This need of you."

                                 He

On every side there flew the arrow

The sound of gunfire, the cry of pain

"Now we must run for our lives, my feathered princess

We must run like the wind

Away from your people and the encroachment of mine."

                                 I

And I, with my heart, acknowledged him

And all he said and did not say

For my father's fathers would not think sacred

The emerald grass on which we lay

Or that strange fire within our breasts.

                              I

His pale hand in my brown, we flew

Across the water and up towards the sky

Through waterfalls and ancient trails

Clinging to new love as old as time

It mattered not how futile seemed the flight.

           He

We flew through clusters of new-borne stars 

Into the eye of the dying sun

Melted down into the core of earth itself

And became a part of the living land

A new tribe, birthed, born out of time.

             I

For just as we, with feet of fire

Found our freedom, our paradise

Beyond the realm of tribe and troop,

The arrows of my father flew

The bullets of your companions sang.

            We

And into arms of soft, soft dream

We fell as one, with lover's cries

Our mouths went seeking,

Our hearts poured out,

Our eyes, not knowing how to say goodbye.

              We

Me, of the earth and of the sky

You, of the sea and distant shore

We lay in arms that felt like home

In a strange, new world

With our hearts knowing like silenced drums,

 We did not belong.

a collab across the miles

©by Voo and Rusky

finished May 16, 2010

3:23 p.m.

RUSSELL/RUSKY

and

 VOO

The Dream by John Trudell

NO ONE EVER

No One Ever


No one ever
Looked as good 
In black and white
As Cary Grant
As tall and tanned
Sophisticated and smart
Debonair and delicious
No one. No one.

The television swoons
When he walks in, as do I
For hours on end we feast
Our eyes on that wonderful face
And fill our ears 
With that wonderful voice
And doctor our hearts
With that wonderful smile.

Wishing he could step outside
Of that celluloid world
And into ours
This technicolored place
That could never
Look as good as his
In black and white.

Copyright ©2007 Voo

 

Accidentally In Love

                   Bringing Up Baby clips