When last we left our hero, he had been downsized from his job at a small industrial cleaning concern. As is typical of businesses run by the uneducated, they had not the wisdom to recognize that an industrial cleaner with a law degree was worth two—or in this case twenty—industrial cleaners without. Delton was hardly fazed by the development, though he was introspective, as all sexy men are.
Delton drove back to his Manhattan apartment, stopping outside the DA’s office as the sun crept above the horizon. He did this every day. He parked and raised his eyes to his old office window on the sixth floor, high above the bustling streets.
He missed the job. He missed the order, the potential for justice. Since he was a boy, working out, excelling at sports, mathematics, literature, botanical kinesiology, philosophy and breaking records in thinking, sprinting, long distance running, weightlifting, wrestling, basketball, baton-twirling, tennis, football, baseball, sailing, swimming, diving, cooking, knitting, skating (ice and roller), skiing, ski-jumping, unicycling, juggling, life-saving and baking while building advanced hydraulic systems for the underprivileged, he dreamed about becoming a DA.
After an hour of deep, yet humble personal reflection, he started his Hummer hybrid and drove home to get some sleep. He slept two hours at most, which was plenty for him. He needed the rest; he would be having dinner with Angela again tonight.
Angela, he thought. She was beautiful; voted the most beautiful person in a contest of most beautiful people. That’s why they ate in her penthouse apartment. They couldn't go out, because she was too beautiful and Delton too handsome.
By herself Angela was so beautiful that people, including women, would get dizzy and faint, some would lapse into vertiginous yodeling. But when Delton and Angela were together, the public was so taken aback, so unbalanced by the sheer might of the combined beauty of Delton and Angela that many individuals were stricken with intestinal discomfiture of Ancient Roman proportions. It had happened several times in their favorite restaurant.
Finally, after the waiter had called for the fifth cleanup of what had been excellent scampi, the manager of the restaurant approached Delton and Angela wearing a blindfold lest he, having just enjoyed fettucine alfredo, succumb to similar dietary instabilities that had stricken the other diners. He humbly asked that they place bags over their heads until he could ask the other patrons to leave.
Delton, humble and selfless as he was, insisted that he and Angela would leave immediately, but not before singing a Pepto-Bismolic medley of Ukrainian lullabies for the remaining patrons. Even with a bag over his head, Delton's medicinal vibrato caused the diners to smile and sway like cherubs on a cloud, forgetting the negative side-effects of too much beauty.
The couple dined in private since. Delton, selfless and humble, knew that for public health and welfare, it was the right thing to do. Still, they got gussied up on each occasion as if they were going out.
As he walked to his third floor apartment door, a woman opened her door and displayed her breasts for him.
“Hi Sheila,” Delton said.
She licked her lips and closed her door.
Arriving at his own door, Delton fished in his pocket for the key, all the while surveying the threshold for inconsistencies, as was his custom.
He noticed something different about the door.
It was still rectangular and had a knob, but a small chip of paint, no larger than the pinky nail of a premature poodle’s pinky paw toe, maybe even smaller, had been scraped from the edge and lay on the tiled floor.
Delton looked left, then right, then moved slowly down the hallway to the stairwell door. He raced up the steps, three at a time.
When he was with the DA’s office, he was city champion in stair running. In less than twenty seconds, he burst through the roof door thirty-six stories above the street. He ran to the fire escape and performed a flawless firemen's slide down the thirty scaffold ladders until he was next to his kitchen window.
He peered through the glass, through the kitchen doorway, out into his living room. A large man sat in his lounge chair, and another one was pacing. Delton didn’t recognize them.
His blood ran cold, like really cold ice cubes. He wiped his forehead with his muscular arm. He ran back up the fire escape, remembering a roll of tape he had seen on the roof as he ran by earlier. He retrieved it and returned to the fire escape, outside his kitchen window.
On the other side of the fire escape landing was Delton’s bedroom window. He spread tape all over the glass, then gave it a shove with his index finger. His flexed bicep ripped his favorite shirt, but life changes priorities sometimes, and Delton knew this was one of those times.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Delton Crosses a Road
When last we left our hero, he had just cleaned an air duct with more hose attachments than anyone had ever used before. But this accomplishment did not fulfill him quite like his previous job as the top district attorney in New York City.
Delton slipped off his goggles and a lock of jet black hair fell into his pale blue eyes. He stretched, worked his powerful shoulders and fabulous arms. Some stiffness remained from last night’s date with Angela. She had drugged him, again, then had sex with him. One of her many desperate attempts to have his baby. He was accustomed to it. Connie had tried the week before, and Delores the week before that. He smiled wistfully. He didn’t mind their attempts. He knew it gave them hope.
He felt the air duct shake and heard pounding again. This shook him from his deep thoughts
“Del, come on, we’ve got to get going!” Ferdie yelled.
“Gotcha,” Delton said, dragging his vacuum toward the hatch. He handed Ferdie the vacuum with the seven telescopic attachments still connected to the hose. Ferdie looked at them and shook his head.
“You’re crazy, man.”
“There’s a point in time when you have to go for it,” Delton said as he climbed down the ladder. He froze. The memory of Johnson & Johnson charged through his brilliant, educated and humble mind. The horror.
“What’s the matter, man?”
Delton shook his head, clenched his powerful fist. “Nothing,” he said.
Ferdie seemed tense, because he was doing things tense people do. “Look Del,” he said, “We have to talk.”
Delton could have heard a pin drop, even with the large air-conditioner turbines starting up, pumping cool air through the ducts he had just cleaned. He could have heard it because Delton had always been good at hearing things. He heard things other people didn’t.
This wasn’t about sound, though. He knew what was coming. He was no fool. He graduated second in his class at the University of Virginia law school. He could have been first, effortlessly, but always answered some questions incorrectly to place only second. He was humble. In fact, Delton was the humblest, smartest person he knew. And Delton knew many people.
Ferdie led him to a conference room somewhere deep in the bowels of the building. He flipped on the light and they sat in their overalls around a large table. Ferdie at one end, Delton at the other. Delton was comfortable in the setting but he could see that Ferdie was unaccustomed to such important furniture.
Ferdie wiped his moustache. He was a short man with brown and gray hair, never clean. Unlike Delton's manly tide of virile sweat, Ferdie shined with perspiration, his face glistening almost always.
“Delton, you’re the best industrial cleaner we’ve ever had…”
“Hey, Ferdie, it’s me, remember; what’s up?” Delton said.
“I’ve got to let you go, Del. I’m sorry. Cutbacks you know.”
“I know. I saw it coming.” Delton smiled.
“If you could take, like, a percentage cut in your pay, we could keep you on board.”
Delton’s smile melted off his face. “What are we talking about here?”
“Del, listen, I think you’re worth the one hundred dollars an hour we pay you, but the other guys make a lot less than that. Don't get me wrong, it would be the right thing to do, but I can’t cut their pay any more than I already have. It’s that left-wing minimum wage crap. To top it off, if you can believe it, the other workers are a little put out by the discrepancy.”
“They’re not lawyers!”
“I know, Del, really. If you could take like a thirty percent cut in pay, we could keep you on.”
“I got bills Ferdie. Attorney size bills. Am I gettin' through?”
“I know Del. I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under.” Ferdie scratched his dirty head. “Isn’t one of your girlfriends an heiress or something and doesn’t the other one run Hewlett Packard? Couldn’t they help you out?”
Delton shook his head. “So the solution is for me to freeload? You know I can’t do that.”
“I’m sorry, Del.”
Delton smiled and shrugged. “How’s that Habitat for Humanity house I helped build, is it working out for you and your family?”
“You know I’ll always be grateful,” Ferdie said.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Delton walked over to Ferdie and shook his hand. “You be good.”
“You’ll be alright?” Ferdie stood and gripped Delton's muscular shoulder.
“I’ll be fine. I didn’t graduate second in my class at UVA law school for nothing.” Delton laughed again and the room filled with sunshine; Ferdie couldn't tell if it was from Delton's teeth, his eyes, or some other light-generating orifice, as Delton had so many. He only knew it was warm.
As they stepped from the conference room, some early-arriving female associates of the pharmaceutical giant walked passed them, staring at Delton. One of them stepped on Ferdie's feet; the other fainted with a doughnut in her mouth.
With a deft Heimlich maneuver, Delton dislodged the savage pastry. When the woman came to, she asked to touch his chest hair, if only briefly, to feel Delton's heart. The other woman slipped her business card in his pocket, while standing on Ferdie's groin, who had toppled over with a broken foot.
Delton slipped off his goggles and a lock of jet black hair fell into his pale blue eyes. He stretched, worked his powerful shoulders and fabulous arms. Some stiffness remained from last night’s date with Angela. She had drugged him, again, then had sex with him. One of her many desperate attempts to have his baby. He was accustomed to it. Connie had tried the week before, and Delores the week before that. He smiled wistfully. He didn’t mind their attempts. He knew it gave them hope.
He felt the air duct shake and heard pounding again. This shook him from his deep thoughts
“Del, come on, we’ve got to get going!” Ferdie yelled.
“Gotcha,” Delton said, dragging his vacuum toward the hatch. He handed Ferdie the vacuum with the seven telescopic attachments still connected to the hose. Ferdie looked at them and shook his head.
“You’re crazy, man.”
“There’s a point in time when you have to go for it,” Delton said as he climbed down the ladder. He froze. The memory of Johnson & Johnson charged through his brilliant, educated and humble mind. The horror.
“What’s the matter, man?”
Delton shook his head, clenched his powerful fist. “Nothing,” he said.
Ferdie seemed tense, because he was doing things tense people do. “Look Del,” he said, “We have to talk.”
Delton could have heard a pin drop, even with the large air-conditioner turbines starting up, pumping cool air through the ducts he had just cleaned. He could have heard it because Delton had always been good at hearing things. He heard things other people didn’t.
This wasn’t about sound, though. He knew what was coming. He was no fool. He graduated second in his class at the University of Virginia law school. He could have been first, effortlessly, but always answered some questions incorrectly to place only second. He was humble. In fact, Delton was the humblest, smartest person he knew. And Delton knew many people.
Ferdie led him to a conference room somewhere deep in the bowels of the building. He flipped on the light and they sat in their overalls around a large table. Ferdie at one end, Delton at the other. Delton was comfortable in the setting but he could see that Ferdie was unaccustomed to such important furniture.
Ferdie wiped his moustache. He was a short man with brown and gray hair, never clean. Unlike Delton's manly tide of virile sweat, Ferdie shined with perspiration, his face glistening almost always.
“Delton, you’re the best industrial cleaner we’ve ever had…”
“Hey, Ferdie, it’s me, remember; what’s up?” Delton said.
“I’ve got to let you go, Del. I’m sorry. Cutbacks you know.”
“I know. I saw it coming.” Delton smiled.
“If you could take, like, a percentage cut in your pay, we could keep you on board.”
Delton’s smile melted off his face. “What are we talking about here?”
“Del, listen, I think you’re worth the one hundred dollars an hour we pay you, but the other guys make a lot less than that. Don't get me wrong, it would be the right thing to do, but I can’t cut their pay any more than I already have. It’s that left-wing minimum wage crap. To top it off, if you can believe it, the other workers are a little put out by the discrepancy.”
“They’re not lawyers!”
“I know, Del, really. If you could take like a thirty percent cut in pay, we could keep you on.”
“I got bills Ferdie. Attorney size bills. Am I gettin' through?”
“I know Del. I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under.” Ferdie scratched his dirty head. “Isn’t one of your girlfriends an heiress or something and doesn’t the other one run Hewlett Packard? Couldn’t they help you out?”
Delton shook his head. “So the solution is for me to freeload? You know I can’t do that.”
“I’m sorry, Del.”
Delton smiled and shrugged. “How’s that Habitat for Humanity house I helped build, is it working out for you and your family?”
“You know I’ll always be grateful,” Ferdie said.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Delton walked over to Ferdie and shook his hand. “You be good.”
“You’ll be alright?” Ferdie stood and gripped Delton's muscular shoulder.
“I’ll be fine. I didn’t graduate second in my class at UVA law school for nothing.” Delton laughed again and the room filled with sunshine; Ferdie couldn't tell if it was from Delton's teeth, his eyes, or some other light-generating orifice, as Delton had so many. He only knew it was warm.
As they stepped from the conference room, some early-arriving female associates of the pharmaceutical giant walked passed them, staring at Delton. One of them stepped on Ferdie's feet; the other fainted with a doughnut in her mouth.
With a deft Heimlich maneuver, Delton dislodged the savage pastry. When the woman came to, she asked to touch his chest hair, if only briefly, to feel Delton's heart. The other woman slipped her business card in his pocket, while standing on Ferdie's groin, who had toppled over with a broken foot.
Introducing Delton Manly
Delton Manly affixed another telescopic enhancement device. He was up to seven, more than anyone had ever tried. It was hot in the chamber and sweat ran down his forehead, over his protective goggles. He tried to wipe it off with his muscular arm, but Delton had always been a prodigious sweater, as good men are, so he could do little to hold back his manly tide.
It was nearly 6:00 AM. Time was running out. Dawn would see the pharmaceutical giant awaken with the bustle of arriving workers; associates, they were called. Delton had noticed this when he read the bulletin boards on his way to the bathroom. Delton had excellent vision, better than most everyone he knew, so he could see the bulletin boards even in dim light.
More important than discerning company documents, though, Delton saw the path to the target in the darkness of the really hot enclosure even without his T14 illuminator that he kept on his equipment belt.
The dispersal pattern had the standard blow and push grit markings. This wouldn’t be easy. There were streaks along the metal interior of the chamber, tracer lines. They always led to the source. And he had to get to the source, or all of this would be for nothing.
Placing earplugs in his ears, he followed the tracer lines to ground zero. He had found the target. He knelt, took a few deep breaths, extended his left arm which held the telescopic mechanism, and approached, cautiously. He remembered the saying he and his compatriots repeated before every job; they called it the "Ls and Cs", or "two Ls and two Cs", or "Elsee Elsee", and some dyslexics called it the "Cs and Ls". Lack of caution leads to calamity.
Using his right hand, he felt around in the gloom of the very hot enclosure for the ignition-sequencing switch. He braced himself. This was going to be loud. He hit the switch and the chamber filled with a roar like a jet engine, nearly knocking Delton to his knees, but Delton was strong and muscular, and had maintained his chiseled frame long after high school, back when he used to excel in too many things to name here and never started fights but finished them all.
He reached for the target, but came up short. He reached again, straining his muscular frame, breathing properly, the way he had learned his first day of weight training, shortly after his circumcision healed. But it was still out of reach. He glanced down at his watch. It was 6:30 AM.
With panic beginning to rear its head if, indeed, panic had a head, he looked around the chamber for something to hold, so he could extend his muscular arm farther. He toyed with the idea of putting on an eighth telescopic attachment, but knew that would be too unstable. He couldn’t risk that now. In minutes, innocent civilians would be entering the building.
Two years ago he might have taken that risk, but after the Johnson & Johnson incident, he no longer had the stomach for such dangerous acts.
The chamber started to rumble, a pulsing boom. At first, Delton thought it was his heart, but soon realized it was Ferdie, the crew chief. Time was up.
He glanced back at the target, took a deep breath and cleared his head. He lunged, arm extended, holding the telescopic retraction device squarely at the target. He landed on his stomach, not bothering to brace himself with his arms. The telescopic retraction device of the Y930 hit the target. The cone shaped debris was instantly sucked through the hose and deposited in the vacuum bag.
Delton rolled over and smiled. Another air duct cleaned. Turning off the hand held vacuum cleaner, Delton sat up, in the dark of the large air-duct. He had cleaned it, he thought, using more hose attachments than anyone had ever tried. He had succeeded. But there was an empty feeling about it. He wasn’t warmed by the same sense of accomplishment he felt when he was the top district attorney of New York, when he put away bad men with big condos. But that was another lifetime, before the Johnson & Johnson incident.
Next Post: Delton Crosses a Road
It was nearly 6:00 AM. Time was running out. Dawn would see the pharmaceutical giant awaken with the bustle of arriving workers; associates, they were called. Delton had noticed this when he read the bulletin boards on his way to the bathroom. Delton had excellent vision, better than most everyone he knew, so he could see the bulletin boards even in dim light.
More important than discerning company documents, though, Delton saw the path to the target in the darkness of the really hot enclosure even without his T14 illuminator that he kept on his equipment belt.
The dispersal pattern had the standard blow and push grit markings. This wouldn’t be easy. There were streaks along the metal interior of the chamber, tracer lines. They always led to the source. And he had to get to the source, or all of this would be for nothing.
Placing earplugs in his ears, he followed the tracer lines to ground zero. He had found the target. He knelt, took a few deep breaths, extended his left arm which held the telescopic mechanism, and approached, cautiously. He remembered the saying he and his compatriots repeated before every job; they called it the "Ls and Cs", or "two Ls and two Cs", or "Elsee Elsee", and some dyslexics called it the "Cs and Ls". Lack of caution leads to calamity.
Using his right hand, he felt around in the gloom of the very hot enclosure for the ignition-sequencing switch. He braced himself. This was going to be loud. He hit the switch and the chamber filled with a roar like a jet engine, nearly knocking Delton to his knees, but Delton was strong and muscular, and had maintained his chiseled frame long after high school, back when he used to excel in too many things to name here and never started fights but finished them all.
He reached for the target, but came up short. He reached again, straining his muscular frame, breathing properly, the way he had learned his first day of weight training, shortly after his circumcision healed. But it was still out of reach. He glanced down at his watch. It was 6:30 AM.
With panic beginning to rear its head if, indeed, panic had a head, he looked around the chamber for something to hold, so he could extend his muscular arm farther. He toyed with the idea of putting on an eighth telescopic attachment, but knew that would be too unstable. He couldn’t risk that now. In minutes, innocent civilians would be entering the building.
Two years ago he might have taken that risk, but after the Johnson & Johnson incident, he no longer had the stomach for such dangerous acts.
The chamber started to rumble, a pulsing boom. At first, Delton thought it was his heart, but soon realized it was Ferdie, the crew chief. Time was up.
He glanced back at the target, took a deep breath and cleared his head. He lunged, arm extended, holding the telescopic retraction device squarely at the target. He landed on his stomach, not bothering to brace himself with his arms. The telescopic retraction device of the Y930 hit the target. The cone shaped debris was instantly sucked through the hose and deposited in the vacuum bag.
Delton rolled over and smiled. Another air duct cleaned. Turning off the hand held vacuum cleaner, Delton sat up, in the dark of the large air-duct. He had cleaned it, he thought, using more hose attachments than anyone had ever tried. He had succeeded. But there was an empty feeling about it. He wasn’t warmed by the same sense of accomplishment he felt when he was the top district attorney of New York, when he put away bad men with big condos. But that was another lifetime, before the Johnson & Johnson incident.
Next Post: Delton Crosses a Road
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