Hutchlover's Happening's

Photo Retrospective - Day 17, A Day in the Life

2010-11-07T09:00:00.023-05:00

Of Daisy & Lily....

Looking for a place to go potty at 3:00 in the morning

Watching Mommy leave.

Waiting for Daddy & Mommy to come home.

All excited to see Mommy!

Watching Mommy cook dinner - or rather waiting for Mommy to drop something.

Eating

Lily playing.

Daisy hiding while Lily plays.

Taking a breath, before the next round.

All tuckered out.

Time for bed!

Nighty, night!

Photo Retrospective - Day 16, Spooky

2010-11-07T08:57:00.003-05:00

This was Halloween, everyone got the tag "Spooky" for that day.

Photo Retrospective - Day 15, Elements

2010-11-07T08:53:00.003-05:00

Two different kinds of elements....

First: Air, Sky, Moon

Second: Slate shaped like Ohio, made from Ohio slate.

Photo Retrospective - Day 14, Wildlife

2010-10-30T16:21:00.004-04:00

So these are sort of, of wildlife. Took them at the Brookfield Zoo last fall.

Photo Retrospective - Day 13, Beauty of Everyday Objects

2010-10-30T16:08:00.012-04:00

Couldn't decide on just one.

My antique marble table

All my magnets. From sports teams, to places I've visited (the Alaskan ones are from my dad), to Starsky & Hutch, to various misc.

The Longenberger pottery that I don't use, only for show.

Photo Retrospective - Day 12, View From A Window

2010-10-30T16:04:00.002-04:00

Leaving, on a jet plane!

These pictures are actually from a few years ago.

Photo Retrospective - Day 11, Season

2010-10-30T16:01:00.002-04:00

Also Known As: Hutchlover and the blustery day...

Photo Retrospective - Day 10, Motion

2010-10-30T15:55:00.003-04:00

I tried experimenting with these.

Not probably what one thinks of as "motion".

In the first one I twirled around while snapping the camera. The sescond one, I jumped up & down while taking a picture.

Photo Retrospective - Day 9, Macro (Close Up)

2010-10-30T15:51:00.002-04:00

These are two snaps of my second very favoritest painting by my very favoritest artist.I bought a print from the museum and had it specially framed.Bonus points for anyone who can name the painting and the artist (and triple points if you can name it in it's original language!)

(My very favoritest painting wasn't available.)

Photo Retrospective - Day 8, The Sky

2010-10-30T15:45:00.005-04:00

I saw this cloud last Saturday morning, and Andrew thought it resembled the alien spaceship cloud from 'Independence Day'. It's pretty close. What do you think?

Photo Retrospective - Day 7, History

2010-10-23T10:25:00.007-04:00

Today, I'd like to offer two 'before' pictures (taken from the Web) of two disasters earlier this century, and my 'now' pictures.

The March 4, 1908 Lakeview (Collinwood) School Fire - the worst school fire in the history of the history of the US (there was a worse explosion in 1937 in TX, but in strictly fire terms, this is the worst).

172 children, 2 teachers, and 1 rescuer were killed. There was even a motion picture camera at the scene! (There was one at the 1901 Galveston Hurricane as well) The long-lost film was recently found in the Library of Congress, just before the 100the anniversary.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KQU-DR9z2c

Today, the site is a Memorial Garden. Just next to it is the newly re-built Collinwood Memorial School.

Also as a History lesson is the July 24, 1915 Eastland Disaster. The worst loss of life on the Great Lakes - surprising considering the boat was still moored in the Chicago River! It was overcrowded, and too many people rushed to one side and the ballast wasn't stable. 800 people were crushed, drowned or smothered. Including 24 (I believe) whole families.

Today, it is very peaceful and pretty.

Photo Retrospective - Day 6, Light & Shadow

2010-10-23T10:23:00.003-04:00

Instead of doing either/or, I did both. Didn't come out quite like I'd hoped.

Photo Retrospective - Color

2010-10-23T10:22:00.001-04:00

I change my fake flowers in the kitchen every month. This is October's colors.

Photo Retrospective - Day 4, Time

2010-10-23T10:20:00.001-04:00

This is by far, my favorite picture so far....

Photo Retrospective - Day 3, Architecture

2010-10-23T10:17:00.003-04:00

This is one of my favorite pictures from DC.

I love the juxtoposition between the sleekness of the Washington Monument rising as a more modern building, over the early 1800s of the two buildings in the forefront.

So many different, yet beautiful, styles.

Photo Retrospective - Day 2, Decay

2010-10-23T10:14:00.001-04:00

I was going to post a picture of The Ohio State Buckeye Football program..... (sigh)

Instead, here's the remnant of the veggie garden.

Photo Retrospective - Day 1, Home

2010-10-23T10:00:00.007-04:00

Taken this past spring...

S&H Live Journal Ollie Awards

2010-09-11T09:56:00.002-04:00

I actually won! I really didn't believe I would! In fact, I was surprised to be nominated, as I didn't think my little bit of work would be compared to those who are more proflific.

My beloved story "David & His Jonathan" won for the best "needs another look" story.

I am honored, humbled, and surprised!

As Sally Field put it - "You Like Me, You Really Like Me!"

LOL!

Sad Happenings

2010-05-14T14:32:00.005-04:00

Let's not discuss the disgusting Cavaliers - Le Bron can go to HELL & play basketball there!

Assholes....

No, this post is about fandom issues.

One of my favorite authors in the Starsky & Hutch fandom, someone who I admire, who've I met and found a lovely, intelligent woman, who's done ALOT for the fandom - has plagiarized stories from other fandoms.

The proof is stupendous and very clear. She has apologized for three stories she's ripped off, but now there have been more found. And she states in her apology that her stories are "far, far, FAR, too close" to others'.

No, they aren't. THEY ARE IDENTICAL. THEY ARE EXACTLY THE SAME, OTHER THAN NAMES.

So the apology is only haff-assed IMO.

It's heartbreaking because this woman has done soooo much for the Starsky & Hutch fandom. She's also very popular in several other fandoms under a different pseudonym.

She's met alot of other fans at Cons.

And the worst is, she's accepted awards for writing - knowing that she had stolen from other writers. One of those awards is in the memory of a fan who was very nurturing to new writers, and a beloved member who lost her life to breast cancer.

She accepted this award in front of the woman's best friends!

I'm astounded and hurt at the level of betrayal. But I'm also astounded and disgusted by other fans who just want to "give her a hug". They feel there must be some underlying issues.

I don't care. This has been going on for at least 8 years, according to the proof printed on Live Journal.

She doesn't deserve our empathy. She doesn't deserve our hugs.

She needs to come completely clean and admit the plagiarization. Not just that she was careless and lazy and remembered paragraphs from others. She hasn't directly admitted her crime.

And it is a crime.

She STOLE from others. Yes, it's only writing. But writing is hard. And what's worse is the betrayal of trust.

I would welcome her back to the fandom once she admitted her mistake directly, and took a back seat in the fandom for a while. But her stories - if any - will always be suspect.

However, I doubt she will come back under her current pseudonyms. And I don't see her coming to any Cons in the future, either.

it's sad to know that someone you admire, have met, have discussed things with, has to steal to get accolades that she feels she needed.

The Compendium she put together gave her so many accolades and was hard & long work.

Wasn't that enough for her?

The reasons why will never be answered in full. Do we all the fans deserve an explanation? Yes. But I don't think all of us will ever be satisfied with any explanation.

It's a sad week for the Starsky & Hutch, Sentinel, and SG-1 fandoms.

LOST - Best Show on TV!

2010-03-24T10:59:00.002-04:00

http://hutchlover.livejournal.com/35569.html

For some dumb reason, it won't let me do a paste on Blogger from Live Journal.

Random Picture From Each Bryant Park Collection

2010-03-07T12:47:00.019-05:00

Courtesy of Tom & Lorenzo Project Rungay Blog

Janeane:

Jesse

Anthony:

Jonathan:

Amy:

Emilio:

Mila:

Ben:

Jay:

Seth Aaron:

Project Runway S7 - Bryant Park

2010-03-07T11:48:00.003-05:00

Saw the collections for Bryant Park.

9 Designers! showed because of the timing of the show.

However, at time of the BP show, there were 10 designers.

Maya didn't show. She did show at the Haiti runway show, but all her designs were from her previous portfolio, prior to Project Runway. However, she did have some fabulous handbags that she made.

So that begs the question: Why didn't May create a new collection? Why didn't she show?

The internet rumors abound....

As to the collections that did show, it was one of the strongest showings ever. No Suede's or Michael's or Wendy Pepper's.

Jeannine: Very simple, but very ill fitted. Obviously a decoy.

Jessee: Very costumey, and mostly ill fitting. However, some interesting looks. A decoy as well.

Anthony: Very classic and Hollywood. Couple of amazing evening gowns. Probably a decoy.

Jonathan: HORRID! Ill fitting, confusing, too much hooker/stripper stuff. Better be a decoy!

Amy: Weird, used tennis shoes on her models. Some classic looks twisted around. I'm thinking a decoy as well, but who knows.

Emilio: Very disappointing. Though he had some cool coats, the color scheme was odd. I don't know, I was hopeful for him, but now I'm thinking he's a decoy.

Mila: All black & white. Even Irina & Christian had some! color! Of course it's all color blocking, too. However, it appears to be very well made. Possibly a finalist.

Ben: Each model had blue stockings, which looked pretty cool. Very futuristic & sci fi. Again, seems to be made well. Not to my taste, but I have to admit it's different & well done. Possibly a finalist.

Jay: Excellent, absolutely cool. And very well done. Some futuristic, some punkish, some classic twists. Should be a finalist.

Seth Aaron: Again, EXCELLENT! Very punkish without being cliche. There are some cool plaid pants & blouses. What makes them cool is their color scheme. These are looks I would wear. And so well made! BETTER BE A FINALIST!!!! My choice for the win!

So now we find out about Mark McGwuire

2010-01-11T17:24:00.004-05:00

Actually it's what everyone expected.

But how do we feel about him coming clean now?

Some say, 'better late than never'.

Honestly, that's not how I feel.

If Mark McGwire had stood up before the Congressional hearings and said something to the effect of, "Yes, I did steroids. I regret it. Not only because of the negative impact they've had on the game, but because of how they may affect my health and my family's well-being down the line. We just didn't know all the repercussions and they were not illegal to the game at the time."

I believe the reaction might've initially been lamenting, cries of foul, indignation. But in the long run, I believe he could've weathered the storm. Andy Petitte has been able to with little or no reprecussions to his name or his game.

But now it's very convienient that the statute of limitations has run out on his perjury charge and he starts a new job with the St. Louis Cardinals. All of a sudden he has a conscience? And of course he laments about him being the victim. "I wish I never played in the steroid era."

What in God's name on Earth does that have to do with anything. HE made that choice to take steroids. HE never stopped. HE LIED TO CONGRESS UNDER OATH.

What does that teach our children? It's okay to lie, as long as you get caught when you can't be punished??????

And don't get me started on Tony LaRussa. For years he has claimed - with indignation I might add - that McGwire did not do steroids. And he railed against the injustice of McGwire going into the HOF and how by association, Mr. McGwire is being blamed for something he 'didn't do'. Now that McGwire has admitted it, he sympathizes with him about "the pressure" and how he's more of a man coming forward.

McGwire would've been more of a man if he came forward in the first place.

I think now LaRussa's statements are suspicious in subvertiley telling us that he knew McGwire was taking steroids.

Would this have impacted the record books? Absolutely.

But if the Hall Of Fame can admit an admitted assaulter of females and elderly (Ty Cobb), numerous racists (Cap Anson, I'm looking at your ghost as well as Ty's), a billboard of unhealthy habits (Babe Ruth), an alcoholic actively drinking during games (Mickey Mantle), and hundreds of cheaters, then they may have been able to overlook Mr. McGwire's doping.

As it is, coming out now, has actually done him more harm than good. The fact that he's been overlooked for several inductions, and has made it a point not to discuss his past or history; but all of a sudden comes out makes me very suspicious if he's not coming out right before the last year he's elligible under the five-year rule (do they have that in baseball?)

He's trying to appear contrite. But the time for contrition was during the Congressional hearings.

Go back to your Hall of Shame, Mr. McGwire.

I apologize if I'm spelling the name incorrectly.

It might be an unrealistic view, but we'll never know.

House - The Tyrant & Karma

2009-10-18T12:47:00.004-04:00

So I normally don't post about current shows (I learned my lesson trying to figure out 'Lost'), but I couldn't resist on the latest happenings on 'House'.

I'll be the first to admit that I haven't really watched it since the original Cottages moved on and PPTH tried to force feed us 13 as the next coming of 'Farrah Fawcett'. And WTF kinda name is thirteen anyway? I'm still scratching my head on that one. And now Forteen?) Now I kinda liked what I saw of Kutner & Taub & Amber, but two are dead and one just walked off into the sunset since he couldn't have his House. Too bad the producers can't shove 13 out of the plane into the sunset as she flies to Thailand - hopefully to kill herself legally before her Huntingtons gets too bad.

My first impressions in not watching it over the last almost two seasons were: When did House & Wilson make up after Amber's death to the point that not only have they kissed and made up, but they are living in Wilson's one bedroom apartment! Or at least it was a one bedroom last I heard. And what pushed House over the edge that he had to go into a mental institution? And have we seen the last of the Vicodin?

Also in what world does House's mistreatment of Wilson's neighbor not count as being assaulted, kidnapped, b&e. Gee, a little heavy handed with the "tyrant" label writers?! And the Vietnam vet was just as much a PIA tyrant, but that does not give House the right to go in the guy's apartment to handle Wilson's problems. But that's love. ;)

But all that's just minor compared to Cuddy's clothes! Since when did she become head of the "nursing" division? Geez woman, have some self-respect! I think she just set women's rights back to the 1970s, at the hospital.

Anyway, the main reason I watched was because I wanted to see James Earl Jones & House butt heads as patient and doctor. Imagine my sorrow when I realized they weren't even going to be in any scenes together. And then that sorry turned to shock, surprise and sorrow again at Chase's actions. I just... my mouth dropped open, even though re-watching Dibala's death you could see the guilt written all over Chase.

I just never expected it of Chase. Nice touch of the show to remind us that Chase went to seminary, before realizing he wanted more to be a surgeon. If anything, I might've expected it from Foreman, maybe Cameron or House if written right, but never Chase. Which is why his actions made it more shocking. That heartbreaking 'No' in the locker room when Foreman asked him if he thought he could get away with it without their being any consequence to his actions, just floored me. Chase didn't kill just Dibala, he killed some part of himself, probably his marriage and very likely House's respect. I doubt he killed his career at this point because they can't get rid of all the Cottages without bringing back 13 (No, please, please NO!) I always thought Chase the most boring of the Cottages (except when he's in a scene with Foreman). But not anymore. There are so many ways to play this, but I'll post my thought on the future of Chase at the end of the post.

JEJ was great as usual. Knowing what we do about Chase's relationship with his father, watching it a second time, I half expected him to rise up and say "Robert, I am (the embodiment of) your father" as he rasped his last breath. LOL I still wish we could've had JEJ & HL (no not me) together for at least one scene. Heck, if House could break the rules for the wishy-washy father in 'Karma', then he could do it for a genocidal despot who's about to be murdered by one of his Cottages!

Now, my thoughts on Dr. Robert Chase. Initially when the show started, I thought that Foreman was more like House, but I came to realize that Chase seems to be most like him while still being his polar opposite. Foreman has House's cockiness, without the confidence & only 1/2 the talent. Chase has the charm of Gregory House - before it was destroyed by the pain in his leg and his addiction, as well as the talent. To me, the pain in Chase's soul will cause him to become more & more like House emotionally and possibly cause him to become addicted to his own vice (alcohol, maybe? I can't see Chase doing drugs or porn.)

If they ever did a flash-forward episode, I wouldn't be surprised to see Chase as emotionally closed off and bitter as House. Why not expect an episode like that, they've become so popular since 'Lost' started it.

Anyway, that's my theory.

Lily is a ROM

2009-10-13T11:08:00.003-04:00

She's driving us all nuts! She just never stops - running, teasing Daisy, wanting attention, playing, pulling on stuff.I call her ROM - Rabbit on Meth!

She jumps & hops like a little bunny! It's so cute! I took some vid, I'll have to see how to uplink vid from my digital camera to the computer.

She's been better as sleeping, but I think she still doesn't understand that Daisy gets to sleep w/Mommy & Daddy. She whines for a bit, and then goes to sleep in Daisy's bed. I don't want that, so I tilt it upward, so she can't lay in it. Today is the first day she'll be left alone, so we locked her in the master bath with her food & her bed. If she poops or pees, then maybe that'll help her learn quicker. And I made sure the toilet seat was covered & the waste basket on top it (though she can't reach them), and that the toilet paper was removed from the roll and put on top the sink. Don't want that mess when we get home!

Unfortunately we found out she does bark. Or at least yelp. When she wants Daisy's attention, she yelps at her like crazy, but Daisy just looks at her. Daisy has NEVER barked once! And if no one is around her to pay attention, she howls. She also doesn't like being held quietly (like when daddy washed the floor last night) when there's too much to get into and too much energy to expend.)

Today, I'm taking her to the vet, so we'll find out if there are any issues or problems. I'm going to find out how much this vet charges for grooming. I'm tired of paying $55, and if I'm going to pay double, then I want a discount.

I told hubby it was going to be difficult to find Lily in the snow, (bg). He'd have to shovel a path even deeper than he normally does for Daisy.

Welcome, Miss Lily!

2009-10-11T17:22:00.006-04:00

We have a new addition: Lily, a 10 week old Bichon Frise. Both Lily & Daisy are pure-bred. But poor Daisy is not happy to have a new little sister.

Daisy's dream....

2009-10-06T12:07:00.002-04:00

DS in HCTB S1 Lovely Long Johns

2009-09-29T14:46:00.004-04:00

How to make doggie food

2009-09-27T13:54:00.004-04:00

It's real easy and fun and inexpensive compared to the canned stuff they sell. And this is healthier as well.

Items you will need:

1) Three small containers or two medium ones (I reuse the small butter ones, but anything will do.)
2) Four chicken thighs, skinless (I skin them myself, they're cheaper that way.)
3) 1 cup of frozen veggies, thawed (anything but corn, or your breed is allergic to.)
4) 1 cup of cooked rice (or cooked & skinned potatoes)
5) 2 eggs
6) 2 vitamin tablets (can be purchased at any pet store.)

Bake the chicken in the oven at 350 until done. Meanwhile, cook the rice or potatoes.

Let the chicken cool down. If there is skin on it, skin it after cooking - it comes off easier. Remove all meat from the bones and place into a food processor. Follow with al the other ingredients.

Chop until small consistency, place into containers & put in frig. Voila! That's all it takes!

Chicago Brookfield Zoo vs. Cleveland Metroparks Zoo

2009-09-07T08:50:00.017-04:00

Who's idea was it to say that the Chicago Brookfield Zoo was one of the best in the country? This is one of the most rundown, lamest, and smallest zoo I have ever seen.

For example:

1) The food is expensive. Okay every zoo's food is going to be expensive. I get it. They have to pay for all the food & medicine for the animals. But that is no excuse for terrible tasting, wilting, dry, and expired food. FAIL

2) The Children's Zoo costs extra. Huh? Why? Granted, Cleveland Metropark's Children Zoo isn't the most impressive thing, but it's free, so who cares? As a parent, I would be mighty upset to have to pay to have my childred touch a dirty goat in the first place. FAIL

3) The Playground costs extra. Let me repeat that.... THE PLAYGROUND COSTS EXTRA MONEY! A BIG FAT, UNDENIABLE FAIL!

4) The poor animals are separated from each other (ex. In Cleveland & Toledo, quite a few species are in "enclosures" together because that's more natural). POOR

5) There is visible barbed wire and metal fencing surrounding the animals. In what country does barbed wire grow that an animal would be accustomed to it? FAIL

6) The viewing ports for the large cats is only about 6'x3", therefore few children esp can view the cats up close & personal. POOR

7) Everything is cramped together in a plot of about 216 acres compared to 188 at Cleveland's. The latter does more with a lot less. POOR space management. Duh!

8) The Rainforest in Brookfield is enough to cause someone to laugh. It's a 5 min walk through a smelly indoor house. The Cleveland Rainforest is separate & charges a separate fee, but it's a good 1/2 hour walk-through in a separate building. FAIL (Brookfield)

9) Brookfield costs $19 (unless you get the 'extras', then it's $24), while the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo is FREE ON MONDAYS, $10 otherwise with the Rainforest being $7. So Cleveland's is still less expensive!!!! Again... FAIL (Brookfield)

10) Many of the animals were unavailable to view, therefore the pricing should've been reduced accordingly. FAIL

11) While Cleveland Metropark's Zoo is older by 40 years, Chicago Brookfield's feels older and is more rundown. FAIL

So, it's FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL.... with a few Poors. Nothing was worth the hour long drive, the expensive parking, animals unavailable, and the shitty atmosphere the animals are kept in.

Writing a letter to the Chicago Zoological Society, so if they send me free tickets to "make up for it", I'll give them free to a good home. And by good home, I mean lots of fencing & neighborhood kids sticking their tongues on your windows & you have to charge to play on the jungle gym (my suggestion would be a chocolate bar) & trips to the park, games & school should be charged accordingly as well.

Stroke & MS & Heart Problems?!

2009-09-03T11:42:00.002-04:00

After having worsening symptoms for several days, I finally called the doctor and he recommended I go to the emergency room. On Thur 8/27 I had one of those burning headaches, but this lasted all day and a couple of people at work thought my face looked crooked or lopsided, and I felt that the right side wasn't responding correctly.

On Fri 8/28, when speaking with the IT guys I couldn't say my phone number. An hour later I called back and had no problem saying it.

I've also had issues where it feels like I'm falling face forward - not spinning or dizzy - just a falling sensation.

Anyway, the neurologist scheduled a bunch of tests and the MRI showed no increase in white lesions, but the MRA did show a possibility of a minor stroke, which would fit in with my symptoms.

The radiologist says I have only a 45% working left ventricle something or other. That's quite a low percentage for my age. It should be more than 55%. So they want to send me to a cardiologist to keep an eye on it and a mild mitro valve something or other (left side as well).

Good news for the MS; there's really nothing they can do for the stroke, and not so good news on the heart issue.

2009-08-23T10:46:00.001-04:00

Family Secrets I

2009-08-21T13:10:00.002-04:00

Title: Family Secrets I
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Category: Starsky Angst, Hutch Angst
Description: My late, late, very late, submission for the ‘Hutch Hurls’ challenge
Notes: The background surrounding the Bonanno crime family & Cesare Bonaventre are as correct as research could determine.

May, 1984

“Hutchinson!”

Hutch sighed. It seemed to be the bane of his career that he and Starsky got called on the carpet by their captain when his partner wasn’t around to take his share of the scolding.

“Hutchinson, now!” Captain Dobey’s holler broke through his reverie.

Pushing himself out of his chair and heading to his superior’s office, Hutch quickly tried to come up with an excuse for disobeying dispatch’s request to stand down from a robbery earlier that day, when they hadn't been on duty and weren’t even the closest cops to the scene. The best defense is an offense, they always say.

“Cap, you know Starsky has a soft spot for Belle ever since she helped save Tom Cole and his wife. So when the call came down with her address, he just couldn’t ignore it.

“Close the door, Hutch. That’s not why I called you in here.” A beat passed as Dobey peered at Hutch’s standing form. “Where’s your partner?”

“He went down to the cafeteria for a snack.” Hutch closed the door and turned back.

“I just got a call from the Orange County coroner’s office. They’ve got a John Doe in their morgue just identified.” Dobey paused and looked down at his desk seemingly in search of a distraction. There was none. “It’s Nick Starsky.”

Stunned, Hutch sat down slowly in one of the chairs opposite his captain.

“It’s my responsibility to inform Dave of his brother’s death, but I wanted you to be aware of it ahead of time so you could… be there for him.”

“Shit.” Hutch glanced up, abruptly aware of his lapse. “Sorry, Captain.”

“It’s okay, Hutch,” Dobey said kindly.

“What do you have?” Hutch’s mind was clearing. What was Nick Starsky doing out here? 10–to-1 Starsky had no idea.

“Looks like a gangland slaying. One shot to the head. Wrists bound. They found him near Laguna Beach yesterday. I’m giving you both a week off. I want you two to give me any cases you’re working on, and anything important I’ll reassign.

What the hell did you get yourself into this time, Nick? Damn you. You’ve caused more than enough pain to your brother and who knows how much to your mother.

“Hutch, I hate to ask this, but…do you know if Starsky had any indication that his brother might’ve been involved with the New York families? Considering his history…” Dobey trailed off at a knock on his door. “Hold on a minute, Hutch. Yeah? Come in.”

The door opened and Starsky popped his head in. “Hey, Cap. Duke said that Hutch…here you are.” He looked at Hutch who had turned in his chair to look back.

Dobey instructed Starsky to come in and close the door. “I need to talk to you.”

With a What’s up now? look at Hutch, Starsky closed the door behind him and stood by his seated partner.

“Sit down.” Dobey directed.

“Something up?”

“I’m afraid so, Dave.”

That one four-letter word was enough for Starsk to tense up. Hutch couldn’t keep the sorrow from his eyes, when Starsky glanced briefly at him.

Looking back and forth between the two men, Starsky asked what was going on.

“Sit down,” Dobey requested again.

“No.” Starsky was sure if it was bad enough, he’d never be able to get up.

“Please, Starsk.” Not only were Hutch’s eyes sorrow-filled, but so was his tone of voice.

Reluctantly, Starsky lowered himself to the edge of the empty seat in front of the desk. “What’s going on?”

There was no easy way to say it, so Dobey cut right to the chase. “I got word this morning from Orange County. Your brother was found shot to death near Laguna Beach.”

“Nicky? Dead?” Starsky was stunned. This was not what he’d expected to hear.

“Dave, did you know Nick was in California or what he might’ve been doing here?”

“No. When?”

Confusion showed as Dobey asked, “When what? When did he get here?”

Starsky’s mouth opened and closed, but the only thing he could say was to repeat, “When?”

Hutch recognized the shock and confusion. Knowing instinctively what his lover meant, he said, “Yesterday, Starsk. They found him yesterday.” He gently laid his hand on Starsky’s forearm, touching his lover to let him know he was not alone and that, as always, Hutch was there and would continue to be by Starsky’s side.

“I’ve gotta go…”

“No, you don’t. They’ve already identified him by his fingerprints.” Starsky’s mind might’ve been numb, but Hutch could still read his partner.

Starsky turned glistening eyes toward Hutch. “For Ma.”

At once Hutch understood; he nodded slowly.

Dobey handed over a sheet of lined paper. “Here is the address for the Orange County Morgue. Eventually the detectives in charge are going to want to talk to you, Dave.”

When Starsky made no attempt to grab the outstretched paper, Hutch took it from Dobey.

“I’m giving you both the week off to make arrangements, sit Shiva,” Dobey repeated to Starsky. “If you need more time to take care of your mother, or anything else, let me know.” Then he turned to Hutch. “Hutchinson, I expect you back here a week from Monday. That’ll give you eight days. More than enough to be there for your partner.”

Getting out of the chair, Starsky looked around the room, lost. “I need to… I gotta…” And without another word, he left via the side exit to the hallway, leaving the door open behind him.

Rising to follow his partner, Hutch was stopped by Dobey’s voice.

“Hutch, I know once he’s over the shock, Dave will want to dive into this case. But I’m telling you now to leave it. Let Laguna Beach handle it. It’s their case. You’re too close.”

Hutch started to voice his objection that they were professionals, but closed his mouth abruptly, knowing that their captain was correct. Starsky did have a habit of diving into cases too quickly and in the heat of the moment if they held a personal cause. Hell, this morning’s actions with the robbery proved that. His own arrest for Van’s murder was another case in point, though Hutch would be forever grateful Starsky hadn't kept his nose out of that one.

Hutch found his partner in the men’s room, hands bracing the top edges of a porcelain sink, staring vacantly into the large mirror in front of him.

He approached Starsky and rubbed his upper arm. “You okay?” he asked softly.

When Starsky didn’t reply, Hutch answered for him. “Dumb question, I know.”

With a deep sigh, Starsky turned away from the mirror and faced Hutch. “Let’s go. Get this done. Ma needs to know…” His voice cracked and he didn’t finish.

“I’ll gather everything to give to Dobey; there isn’t much. Go down to the car. I’m driving; you’re in no condition to handle the Tomato right now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Starsky ran his hand through his hair, jarring Hutch’s hand still on his upper arm.

***

All was quiet in the relatively short drive to Santa Ana, during which Hutch glanced occasionally at his partner in the passenger’s seat. He pulled into the parking lot behind the coroner’s office, and killed the engine.

When Starsky made no attempt to leave the vehicle, Hutch asked, “Do you want me to handle this? I can make the official ID.”

Starsky shook himself. “Huh? Oh, no. I’ll do it.”

“Okay, but I’m going with you.”

A look of gratitude and love flashed in Starsky’s face as he grabbed Hutch’s right hand and squeezed. “Thanks, babe.”

Stopping first at the front desk, they were taken to the morgue by a clerk, who assured them she would handle all paperwork and disposition issues. A hand on his lover’s back, Hutch felt Starsky tensing as they entered the cold storage room.

The morgue was never a pleasant place to visit. The smell and cold seemed to linger, even after leaving the building. But now it Starsky appeared to be impervious to the chill, while the smell seemed to taunt Hutch’s brain, nose, and stomach more than usual.

Surprisingly, when uncovered, Nick Starsky’s face had little damage. The bullet had entered the base of his skull at an upward angle and blown off the top of his head, but the coroner had done a good job of piecing it back together. There was some bruising caused by the excess bleeding, but otherwise he still looked like Nick.

Starsky’s cupped his brother’s cold, pale cheek. “Ah, kiddo, what happened?”

Hutch left his partner alone with his brother while he asked the coroner’s clerk if he could, as a professional courtesy, see the official report. After reviewing it and handing it back with his thanks, Hutch walked back to Starsky and placed a gentling hand on his back.

Looking over his partner’s shoulder, Hutch stared at Nick’s quiet visage. Even though Nick wasn’t the image of his older brother, there was a big enough resemblance that, to Hutch, all of a sudden the room became warm and a bout of nausea overcame him.

He stepped back unsteadily and strode through the doors, looking left and right down the hallway for a men’s room. Spotting one, Hutch bounded through the door before his stomach threatened to embarrass both himself and his partner.

Hutch barely made it through the stall before his stomach rebelled. He stood there for several minutes, shaking arms splayed to the sides of the stall as he steadied himself.

***

After wiping his face, Hutch made his way back to find his partner; who was in an office suite discussing the next step with the clerk who was managing Nick’s autopsy paperwork.

He sat down next to his lover and patted his leg. “You holding up?”

“Yeah.” Starsky acknowledged Hutch’s concern, placing his hand over his lover’s. “Where’d you run off to?”

“Men’s room. You sure you’re okay?”

Starsky bent over, hands covering his face, “I’m gonna have to call my mom. Shit. Can’t believe…”

“You want me to handle it?”

“No, I gotta… maybe Uncle Es or Aunt Rebecca… You’re coming, right?”

“To New York?” Hutch asked. “Yes. Dobey gave us both a week off,” he gently reminded.

The rest of the day – hell, the entire day – was nothing but a blur to Starsky. Everything had faded into gray. Thank God for Hutch.

His partner had taken things in hand: made arrangements for Nick’s body, handled travel arrangements to New York, spoke with Starsky’s Uncle Es so that Muriel Starsky was told as gently as possible, packed their luggage, and forced him to eat a grilled cheese sandwich.

Not once did Hutch question him if he knew what – if anything – Nick had been involved in. Hell, he hadn't even known Nick was in town. I’ll bet Ma didn’t know either. When we talked last week, she would’ve asked me to check on him.

Once the body was released by the authorities, health codes trumped Jewish ritual and made embalming mandatory before transport. It was Starsky family tradition, though, that chose Nick’s final destination: the Jewish Memorial Chapel in Yonkers

Starsky’s faculties slowly came back as he sat in a chair in their bedroom and watched Hutch packing their bags. “I’m sorry, Hutch. I haven’t been much help and you’ve done all this for me and Nick. It’s my responsibility, I should be handling everything.”

Hutch’s eyes reflected like pools of clear water. “I want to. I need to.” He stepped over and smoothed his hand against Starsky's cheek. “I love you, you know. And I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

Sighing and closing his eyes, Starsky drank in the comforting presence of his partner. The previous need to place everything on the well-balanced shoulders of his lover was slowly fading; the need to take some control back, gaining ground.

“What else did Dobey say? About what Laguna PD discovered so far?”

“Not much else.” Hutch paused, “You know, Starsk, that even if this case were in our jurisdiction, we wouldn’t be given it. Dobey advised…”

“Yeah, yeah. Like we haven’t heard it before. Terry, Helen, Gillian, Van. Hell, you shouldn’t have even been on the Gunther case.”

“Okay, he warned us to leave it alone.”

“Well, since we’re heading back to New York, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to some of the neighborhood,” Starsky emphasized the word ‘talk’, “to try and find out what’s been going on with Nick. Dobey can’t bar us from doin’ that.” Try and stop me.

“Stubbornness has nothing on you,” Hutch grumbled as he turned away to finish packing.

Starsky let it go with a tight smile. Instead he walked over to where Hutch stood by the bed zipping up their cases, and put a hand on Hutch’s shoulders. “Thanks, Hutch.”

Not much in the way of spoken words, but a wealth in meaning and expression. Hutch reached across with his right hand and patted Starsky’s. ‘Thank you’ accepted and acknowledged as unnecessary.

Starsky’s emotional upset left him with no desire, physically or emotionally, for making love. Even the knowledge that they’d be hard pressed to make love for the next week while staying with Starsky’s mother – both men refused to indulge themselves in Muriel’s home – couldn’t interest Starsky in sex.

Again, Hutch acknowledged the unspoken apology in his lover’s eyes with a gentle, soothing touch to his face. “Long trip tomorrow. Get some sleep; you’ll need it.”

***

Due to the time difference and a layover in Denver, the two men didn’t arrive at JFK until after 7p.m. The first stop Starsky wanted to make was to the 66th District Police Station, which was located in the area of Brooklyn where his brother lived with their mother; in the same apartment that both Starsky brothers had grown up in.

But Hutch stopped him from charging off by reminding him that living family was more important right now. And Hutch was right – he needed to see his mother first; and, more importantly, Muriel needed him.

So Starsky counseled himself to not let his anger show. Whether that anger was directed to his brother’s killers, or to his brother directly, Starsky didn’t know. Hutch tried to distract him by asking about various point of interest, even though he had been back to visit Starsky’s hometown several times.

After the cab dropped them off in front of the brownstone where Pavlo Starsky had settled his family, Starsky stood silent for a moment to gather his thoughts and the courage he would need to face his mother.

The walk up to his mother’s apartment was made in quiet, each involved in their own thoughts. To the amazement of both men, they heard the sounds of merrymaking and chatter coming from behind the closed door of the Starsky family apartment.

Starsky’s mother was holding up better than he expected. Mother and son enveloped each other with comfort and love. And then both of them – he and Hutch, were passed along to all the other family members that were sitting Shiva with Muriel Starsky.

Muriel introduced Hutch to all the Starsky and Yvanik family and friends as “Davey’s goy kolego.” One of Starsky’s cousins, Tuvok, asked with mistrust if Hutch traveled everywhere to hold Davey’s hand.

“His cop-partner,” explained Muriel. She knew the true relationship of the two men, but it was nobody else’s business – especially not her judgmental male kin. She had just lost one son to the street wars, she was not about to lose another.

Many of his family wanted to know if Starsky was going to find out what happened to Nick. He had to tell them that he and Hutch had limitations and any interference could taint the evidence and jeopardize the investigation. But he assured them he would keep on top of the investigating unit.

Of course, Starsky planned on doing his own investigation while in New York, but he didn’t need to play his hand yet when he wasn’t sure who was in the game.

After everyone had left, Muriel’s mask came down when she asked Starsky how Nick was prepared for his burial. “Did you do the Taharah?”

“It wasn’t possible, Ma.” Starsky shook his head slowly. He hadn’t been in any kind of shape to participate in the ritual cleansing of his brother's body.

Muriel responded with a sad nod.

By 10 p.m., even though their bodies were still on Pacific Time, everything else combined to make them - Starsky especially – tired. Once in bed, trying to become accustomed to all the night noises of Brooklyn, Hutch asked Starsky about his family.

“I know you’ve always said you had a bunch of uncles, but I assumed that most were friends of the family or neighborhood guys who looked out for you.”

Starsky’s right arm was pillowed behind his head as he stared at the shadowed ceiling of the childhood bedroom he’d shared with Nick. “Let’s see. Aunt Rose is Ma’s sister. Uncles Alphonse and Myron were her brothers, but they’re gone now. Her only living brother, my Uncle George is in Florida. He’s married to Aunt Betty, who Ma never got along with.”

“On my dad’s side, you met all his brothers today: Aron, Saul, and Es. Dad was the second youngest, before Esau. He had a sister, but she died when they were little. Her name was Lina.”

“I never realized how big your family is.”

Starsky shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I never talk to any of them except Al and Rose and Uncle Es and Aunt Rebecca occasionally. I haven’t seen most of ‘em since my Dad’s funeral.”

“Do you think any of them could be involved with the mob?” Hutch hated to ask, but they needed to know.

Starsky knew that, no matter what it wouldn’t change how Hutch felt about him. “I don’t know. I haven’t been around for the last 20 years. Nick got messed up with them somehow.” He turned to face his lover. “If I have to take down some of my family, Hutch, I will. That’s the only way the contamination’ll stop spreading.”

“I’m sorry, babe. Now wasn’t the time to bring it up.” His voice was heavy with apology.

“Shit, Hutch, it ain’t like I haven’t been thinking the same thing.”

With a light kiss, Hutch told Starsky to try to let it go for the night and get some sleep; then did the same himself.

***

The morning after Nick’s burial beside his father at Knollwood Park, all three slept in late, Muriel’s slumber enhanced by a prescribed medication.

When Starsky finally got up, after he dressed he made coffee and settled at the kitchen table to read the paper he’d retrieved from outside the door.

Right on the front page of the New York Daily News was an article that froze Starsky as he held his coffee mug up.

‘Alleged Missing Bonanno Leader Found Dismembered.’

The article went on to detail how Cesare Bonaventre had been found murdered with four bullet wounds – two to the head – and then dismembered and dumped in a large drum. Details of his alleged role as a ‘capo’ of the Bonanno family and the suspicion that he had been behind the murder of former Bonanno ‘capo’ and renegade Carmine Galente – the man who had sponsored Cesare Bonaventre’s entry to the U.S. from Sicily.

Damn, why does that name sound familiar? Having been out of touch with New York crime and neighborhood news, Starsky didn’t think he’d heard the name of a minor Mafia head through the BCPD or his mother. Nick? Joe?

So lost in thought, Starsky never heard his partner approach behind him until Hutch placed his large hand over Starsky’s to still the repetitive drumming of the latter’s fingers.

“What’s so engrossing in the paper that you ignore a kiss on your neck from your lover? Bored with me?” Hutch joked.

Starsky hadn’t realized that Hutch had given him a soft, intimate kiss. He turned his hand over to grasp his lover’s. “I think… Nicky mentioned someone named Cesare in one of our phone conversations, but I’m not sure who he meant.” He slipped his hand free and pointed at the article he’d been reading.

“Nick mentioned something about a new business partner name Cesare who was Dutch, but grew up in Italy. They were gonna set up some kind of multi-cultural consulting firm; something like that.” Starsky was frustrated, trying to remember. “I think that’s all he ever said.”

“Starsk, Cesare is a common Italian name. Doesn’t mean that it’s this guy in the paper.”

“Yeah, there’s gotta be five on this block alone. I get it. But it’s awful coincidental.”

Hutch hated to burst Starsky’s bubble, but neither did he want Starsky wasting his time and energy on a dead-end – especially if that line of investigation led to the Mafia, then it literally could be a dead-end.

Running his hand through his morning-hair, Starsky wondered aloud if his mother might know anything.

Alarmed, Hutch put out his arm to stop Starsky. “No. Do you hear me? Your mother has been through enough. It’s bad enough you want to put yourself on the hot seat, but I’m not going to let you draw attention to Muriel. In fact, just to be on the safe side, we should get her out of town – vacation, safety – whatever you want to call it.”

“Okay, okay. I hear ya. Besides which, like you said, we don’t know if this is even the same guy.”

Glad that Starsky appeared more rational, Hutch relaxed. “Here’s what we do: check out Nick’s room, see what we find. Let’s look at the condolence book. We’ll see if anyone named Cesare signed it. Any current or prospective business partner of Nick’s should be in there too.”

“I still should ask her.” Starsky said.

“Ask me what?” Neither man had heard Muriel’s door open or her entrance into the small, bright kitchen.”

“Uh, nothing for you to worry about, Ma.” Starsky stole a quick glance to his partner.

“Coffee, Muriel?” Hutch held up an empty mug as a distraction.

“Yes, please. Cream.” She turned her focus back to her surviving son. “Now, stop with farhaltn, David, and ask me. I’m not some weepy nebbish . I’ve buried a husband; I’ve just buried a son. If I can survive that and more, your question won’t harm me. It’s all bubkis . Nicky was my baby, but that didn’t make me blind to his actions or the hoodlums he hung around with.” Her grimace was sorrowful, but also angry.

Sighing, Starsky asked if Nick had ever mentioned a guy named Cesare who he did, or was going into, business with.

Her reaction stunned both Starsky and Hutch. Muriel spit on her silver flecked white linoleum floor. “Pfui. That schmutz. He’s no good. I told Nicky to stay away from him. I don’t want him here. He may look goy, but he’s momzer.”

Both detectives glanced at each other, knowing instinctively what the other was thinking – that Starsky’s intuition was correct and he was on the right track.

Starsky sprung out of his seat, giving a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “Thanks, Ma. Hutch and I are going to check some things out.”

As they left the kitchen to change, Muriel yelled after them, “What about breakfast?”

They popped back in. “Oh, sorry, Ma. What do you want? I already made some coffee.”

“No, no, my bubchick, for you and Ken.”

“Don’t worry about us, Muriel,” Hutch cut in and leaned over and gently kissed her cheek. “And don’t worry about David. I’ll watch out for him.”

“I know you will.” Even after the Gunther hit, Muriel trusted Hutch. She never held any of her son’s injuries against the blond detective, but she often chided David for not looking after Ken, when the latter received injuries. “You always have my David’s best interests at heart.”

***

After a brief stop at the precinct where Starsky’s father used to patrol out of, Starsky and Hutch began making the rounds of old friends and neighbors.

Initially Starsky just made small talk as Hutch stood listening to shared memories; but eventually the former worked his way into questioning who the local hoods were and the possibility of Nick being involved with them. Starsky was such a skilled interrogator that most of them didn’t realize they were being purposefully milked for information they might have.

But Starsky didn’t get away with his questioning as much as he thought he did.

Three days after Nick’s burial, Starsky received a visitor. When Muriel let the man – obviously known to her – into the apartment, Hutch had just come in from Nick’s bedroom where Starsky was packing his brother’s possessions. He could barely contain his shock when he saw the older, heavyset man with thinning gray hair.

The older man chuckled, “No, detective, I’m not a ghost. Nor did anyone play a joke on you and Davey. We’re twins. Not quite identical, but enough that those who don’t know us personally couldn’t tell the difference.”

It was like looking seven years in the past – and the image of Joe Durniak before him gave Hutch pause.

He didn’t believe they had anything to fear from Joe’s brother, but a tingle went off in Hutch similar to the one he’d had when the detectives had Joe in their protective custody, and he’d made allusions to Starsky’s father’s past.

“Ken, this is Luca Durniak.” Muriel introduced the men. “This is Davey’s partner from L.A., Ken Hutchinson.”

“Actually it’s Lukas, but if you want to be safe or Family in Brooklyn, you need to have either an Italian or Jewish name.” He looked at Hutch to judge his reaction as he pointedly added. “As Cesare found out.”

Since you’re not Jewish, and considering your brother’s past, I guess we can assume you’re part of ‘the family’ without jumping to conclusions, Hutch thought to himself.

Both men stood facing each other, sussing the other out, until Muriel asked Luca if she could take his coat.

Hutch noticed she wasn’t afraid or intimidated by the Mafia man – which made him curious why she didn’t hold him in the same contempt as Cesare Bonaventure. She had to know his involvement with the New York mob.

“So, where is Davey?” Luca looked around as he rubbed his hands together and sat down, without being invited, on Muriel’s couch.

“Hey, Starsk?” Hutch called to his partner, not leaving Muriel alone with the man. “You wanna come out here? There’s someone here to see you.”

His posture loose when he walked out of Nick’s room, Starsky stiffened when he saw their visitor, but Hutch noticed he didn’t appear in any way shocked. What else have you kept from me, Starsk?

“Lukas,” Starsky said cautiously as he nodded once to acknowledge the man.

“Can I get you some coffee, Luca?”

“Muriel, my dear. I would love a cup, black. And then perhaps I can talk with David and Ken for a bit.” He hesitated, “Privately. You understand.”

“Of course. I’ll just step out to Rosatti’s for some more coffee and tea. People have been stopping by all week for Shiva and visits; I’m running low.”

Until Muriel left, and Luca had his requested privacy, he made small talk with Starsky and Hutch. Asking about the California weather, and how they liked their jobs, and the general differences between LA and New York living.

Waiting a few minutes until he was sure his mother was out of the brownstone, Starsky’s voice changed to granite and ice as he asked, “No bullshit, Lukas. What do you want? You told Ma that you didn’t hold us responsible for Joe’s death. What other reason could have for coming by to see us?”

The older man refused to be intimidated. He leaned back, resting his arm across the top of the couch as he studied his long-ago friend’s son. “Your father and Joe and I were best of friends growing up – did he ever tell you that?”

Starsky’s confidence was equal to Luca’s. “Yeah, Joe filled me in with all the details after Pops died. You aren’t here to re-hash old memories, so can it and get to the point.”

“You’re too intense, Davey. You need to slow down and relax.” Luca turned to Hutch and asked, “Is he always like this? He’s gonna give himself a heart-attack before he’s fifty.”

It must’ve been a rhetorical question, because Luca didn’t wait for an answer. “You know, David, you should be more careful who you visit.”

“Starsky has ever right to visit whoever he wishes!” Hutch was beginning to get riled.

“Yes,” Lucas nodded slowly, “but some people, some very important people, aren’t too happy with some of the questions he’s been asking.”

Then Luca abruptly changed the line of discussion. “You know, with the exception of myself, Cesare, Nicky and a few other guys, the Family rarely invite non-Italians into their fold.”

The admission that Nick was involved in mob-related activities did not go unnoticed, but for now Starsky and Hutch let it go.

“Which is why Joe went off on his own,” Starsky finished.

“As long as he respected their territory and played the game by their rules, the Five Families left him alone,” Joe finished.

“Until he decided to talk,” Hutch added, calmer now. “And Cesare?”

“Who said anything about Cesare?” Luca smirked.

Hutch addressed his partner, “Let’s make this assumption, Starsk. If Cesare was trying to break out on his own…”

“And for an Italian-raised Dutchman, that would’ve been very stupid…” Starsky interjected.

“Or if he started making decision on his own within the confines of the Family…”

“Then they’d need to eliminate him before his brand of independence started giving others ideas,” Hutch finished.

Starsky turned to Luca. “So how did Nick place into this?”

Luca raised his arms as if surrendering, “I never confirmed that your theories are correct, gentlemen. For all I know, Cesare was a robbery victim and Nick was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Both detectives picked out the message in Luca’s statement: Cesare was robbing someone and was hit in retaliation.

“Or Nick was in the right place at the right time,” suggested Starsky. “A planned hit; he was lured to his death.”

With a tilt of his head to the side in acknowledgement, Luca gave them their answer without having to say anything. “But I will tell you this… leave it, David.”

His stern request and hardened hazel eyes took Starsky aback. “Why? This was my brother we’re talking about. Doesn’t my mother deserve justice?”

Repeating himself for emphasis, Luca said, “I’m telling you to drop it, David. Trust me; there’s more than Nick’s actions at stake here. Your mother does not deserve more pain and suffering. I would not like for her to have to bury all her children. She is, and always has been, a very special person.”

Hutch stood up and pointed at his partner. “Are you trying to say that ‘they’ will go after Starsky?”

Ignoring Hutch’s question, Luca asked Starsky another question. “Did Joe ever tell you anything about your father’s death?”

Starsky frowned at the sudden turn. “Pops was killed by a bank robber. Though Joe did mention something about secrets and that I wouldn’t be happy with some of the things he was going to tell the Feds.”

Luca nodded in reassurance. “Good.” He paused and looked between the two men, Hutch still standing, and Starsky sitting across from him. “That was the reason I was sent here today, by the way. To find out what, if anything, Joe may have told you about your father’s death, or if you’d heard any rumors.”

“That sounds like a warning to me.” Hutch could give Luca a run for his money in steely-eyed glares.

Waving his hands, as if it was no consequence, Luca dismissed Hutch’s concerns. “Consider it a message of generosity from one Family to another.”

Starsky was flabbergasted. “Wait a minute, wait a minute… Are you trying to tell me that my dad wasn’t killed during a robbery?”

This news on top of Nick’s Mafia involvement and death looked like it could fold Starsky in half. Hutch hastened over to the chair where his lover was seated, just in case.

“No. He was killed by a bank robber, that part was true. But it’s more complicated than that.” Luca looked intently at both men as he added furtively, “And that’s all I can give you.”

Hutch was becoming hot again. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means to drop it… all of it.” Luca finally became brusque. “The problems of Cesare and Nick have been taken care of to the satisfaction of the Five Families. Any more exploration of Nick’s death will lead you into areas that you not only don’t want to go to, but that you may not come out of.” He softened his voice and expression. “And your mother doesn’t deserve any wounds being re-opened.”

Luca stood up and straightened his jacket. “You’re a good son, David. You go on back to California and continue the direction you’ve been going. You’re momma is proud of you. Perhaps you can encourage her to move out there, get away from all the bad memories.”

Luca walked to the door, but as he opened it, he turned back. “I’m sorry I had to visit under these circumstances. As a long-time friend of the family and keeper of promises made to your father, I’m officially offering my condolences on the loss of your brother.” He tipped his head solemnly. “I won’t be seeing you again before you leave, Davey. Continued good luck in California.” And he walked out the door, closing it tightly behind him.

Neither Starsky nor Hutch could say anything for a few moments. They walked into the kitchen and over to the coffee pot silently, before sitting down at the table.

“What do you think of that, Hutch?”

Hutch shook his head. “I don’t know, Starsk. What I do know is that he’s right about the continued digging. If you keep it up, you could be hurt – or worse. After Gunther, I don’t think either I or your mother could handle that.”

“So that’s it?” Starsky waved his arm toward the closed front door. “We just leave and let them get away with this shit?”

“No. We leave it to the local PD and in the Laguna Beach.” Hutch held up a hand before Starsky interrupted him. “Okay, technically we are the best team out there, and if anyone can figure out what your brother was into and who killed him, it’s us.”

“However, I happen to agree with Lukas to some extent.” Hutch stood up and began pacing. “I don’t like the idea of just giving up, but it might be better if we go back home, let things settle down here, and then do some checking around LA and Orange County.”

“And what about my mom, Hutch?” Starsky was worried. “If the big guys here find out we’ve been doing some digging – they might make take it out on her.”

Hutch was worried about Muriel too, and he had a solution. “She comes back with us for a long visit. We use the excuse that she needs to get away – which is probably true.”

“And if she says no?” Neither his mother nor Hutch’s parents had ever stayed with them in their home since they’d told their families they were partners in life as well as on the job.

Hutch gave his lover a tender, empathetic look. “She can stay with Al and Rose. They’d love to have her visit.”

“Yeah, they’d like that.” He looked up hopefully at Hutch. “Maybe I can convince her to move out there permanently. All the family here is getting older; she needs me more now.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Starsk. But let’s get her out to California for a visit first and then discuss it. No need to make abrupt changes right now. She’s going through enough.”

Starsky walked over and smoothed Hutch’s cheek with his forefinger. “You know, I think I love you more right now than I ever have.”

Blushing with embarrassment, Hutch dipped his head.

“The care you take with me, but more important, the respect and care you show Ma.” He leaned and gave Hutch a quick kiss on the lips. Nothing passionate or sexual, but filled with love. Sometimes Hutch liked those quick, gentle kisses more than their passionate mouth dances.

Then Starsky stepped back. “Okay, then we’ve got some things to take care of, so I guess we better hit it, Blondie. We’ll take Ma out to dinner tonight. Treat her real special.”

They had a lot to do, and only a few days to do it. But with a rejuvenated purpose, Starsky and Hutch set out to convince Muriel Starsky that she belonged with them in California. It gave Starsky a reason to push his brother’s murder on the back-burner, and not feel guilty.

Time would come later for him to find out what happened to Nick… and to his father.

To be continued?

Goy kolego: Gentile Buddy/Acquaintance
Nebbish: Weakling, simpleton
Bubkis: Nothing
Farhaltn: Delay
Schmutz: A detestable person
Momzer: An untrustworthy person

Amye's MS travails

2009-08-21T12:58:00.002-04:00

Okay, so far here's the fun of tests and drugs:

In Feb '08 I went to the doctor with concerns about these sharp, stabbing pains in my head (temple & sometimes back of head) that would numb half my face for 1-2 min. Ed had been diagnosed with a minor aneurysm, so I was thinking the same thing - or at worst a minor stroke.

Anyway, Dr. Lees scheduled me for some strength and balance tests. The diagnosis was less strength on the right side, and that everything was slower & slightly off on my right side (smiling, hopping, waving, etc etc).

She scheduled an MRA/MRI. After these were read, she called me on 2/19/08 to tell me I had demylineation and lesions of the white matter. What? I was confused, but she didn't seem too concerned. She wanted to set me up on Neurontin to see how that would work.

Later I found out that demylineation & lesions in the brain are high indicators of MS. That totally floored me. Completely. After reading up on it, I realized that it's a high probability.

The stumbling, tongue tied syndrome, forgetfullness, walking into walls & furniture, the sharp pains & facial numbness - all are some of the symptoms of MS. Now I wonder if my foot numbness is related to damage to the sciatic nerve or MS.

Anyway, the Neurontin works very well. The pains have subsided for the most part, or lessened.

Since the move, I hadn't had it for more than six months, so I finally found a doctor and went over everything with him. He definitely put me back on the Neurontin and then scheduled me with a Neurologist in Hoffman Estates. He also feels that it's MS, however he can't make that diagnosis, only the neuro can. More than likely they will want to do an updated MRI/MRA and possibly CAT. Also an LP (lumbar puncture) would be required to do a definitive diagnosis.

Fuck that - I'm not having an LP. If the Neurontin works fine, then that's good enough for me.

I'll keep this blog updated.

A YEAR?!

2009-08-21T12:46:00.002-04:00

My God, it's been a year?! since I've posted?

I'm sorry, this is supposed to be my diary/writing blog.

Lots have happened. We tossed Luis & Marilynne, they messed up the house to the tune of $3,300 (including lost rent). They stole stuff, damaged windows & trim, ruined carpeting. So now we're renting to Julie & Bill. They can help fix it up and they have a smaller place to rent with less money to pay. They wanted back in the neighborhood anyway.

Since they moved in, we're going to fight the stupid HUD/Civil Rights since we will never rent the house again to someone we don't personally know. I'd rather lose it to foreclosure.

What else.....

Hmmm Kelly thought she was pregnant earlier this month. Thank God she's not. I'm not ready for that yet. Andrew starts college on Tuesday. Keith got divorced and is now living with a really cute Brazilian girl he met, who's 15 yrs younger. Personally I think not only did he get tired of Karen's drinking, but he wants kids and it seems there's been a problem there. I don't see Karen much (I hate bars), but Ron sees her a couple times a month. Ed just got back from a state-of-the-art high-end cruise to Alaska for 3 weeks. Cost him $8,000. Ron's jealous, he thinks we deserve some of that money since we took care of Grandma while he was in the hospital for 6 months. Oh, Ryan moved to Chicago and then back to Ohio.

I have a great new job! I'm the Executive Assistant for the VP of Consumer & Computer Business Unit at ST Microelectronics, a worldwide company with headquarters in France. So far it's temp-to-hire, but it's my understanding that they hire all their assistants like that. It can take anywhere from 6 mos to 2 yrs for them to hire you permanently. I'm hoping this works out, because it's my dream job. Tony's great, there's travel, setting up events, and lots of Excel work.

More later about the fun tests I'm going through!

The Move is Done!

2008-08-07T21:14:00.002-04:00

We finally got everything up and running and we're all moved in!

Okay, so the entertainment center isn't together and I can't put all my angels or Royal Daulton's in yet, but pretty much everything else is done. All my Starsky & Hutch items are hanging in the spare room where the computer is. Kelly's bed isn't put together, but there's no big hurry on that.

The yard - the front especially - is a POS, but our landlord said if we want to do anything to it and make it nice, just show him the receipts and he'll take it off our rent. We've gotta do some touching up of paint that got scraped and a little bit of patch work, but all in all it's very nice and has a large walk-in closet in our room that's carpeted - even the shelves are carpeted. I'm not real fond of the color (tan carpeting), but I can live with it. The shelves, drawers, and washer/dryer were disgustingly dirty. So I had to clean first. I ended up using contact paper 'cause there was no way I wanted my dishes touching those naked shelves.

Got the OHIO STATE flag hanging in the front bay window. Gotta promote my team, right? Oh, and one of our new neighbors is a big Ohio State Fan. I told him we're going to get along perfectly.

We got the wrong sized truck for the move, but it was larger and it turned out we needed the larger one. The drive went well and even faster than I figured. That's 'cause we didn't got through downtown Chicago. Of course my brother didn't get anyone to help us unload, as both Ron & I asked, but they did come over themselves to help us unload, so it wasn't just the five of us.

On Monday I called all the utilities and the phone company, right? "Yes, you can get DSL. Yes, we can keep you with Elite. They'll be out on Friday." Well Friday comes, and we had no phone line, so one guy comes out to install a phone line, but no one comes to install the DSL. I called them again. "We can't find your order. Oh wait, here it is.... They're coming Friday, August 8th!" I told them that was b*s. So the guy on the phone promises they'll be here by Monday. Monday comes & starts to wane. I called AT&T again. "No you CAN'T get DSL in your area." Now this is bullshit! I specifically had them install a phone line which cost me $140. I got a $50 coupon for DSL Elite (which is what we had in Cleveland). And TWICE I talked to AT&T representatives about DSL in our new home. This is the same bullcrap we put up with when we moved at work last summer. So they've offered my this new U-Verse which is some kind of cable system and supposedly much faster than DSL, but at the same price. Plus they said they'd honor the $50 coupon and give me a $35 credit. They damn well better.

Then last Tuesday after we moved, the damn air went out (the furnace died and it was brand new). We had no air for several days until the heating & air company could get a new panel and replace it. What a fricking mess! We were so hot, we ended up spending Wednesday night at Keith's hotel.

Now I can seriously start to look for a job. I hate that I've put in several resumes and gotten only one response. I hope this doesn't take long. Everyone says the job market here is great and I shouldn't have a problem finding a job. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Daisy's adapting well, but she still doesn't know what to do with the backyard. She keeps going to the bathroom by the door & the patio door. She won't go into the backyard unless it's following the fence. It's like she's afraid of it. I fear she's going to have separation anxiety when I go back to work.

I don't know if I'll ever move again. At least out of state. Unless it's going back home.

Notes About David & His Jonathan

2008-04-21T13:38:00.001-04:00

Title: David and His Jonathan
Author: Hutchlover
Rating: R
Genre: Slash
Email: Hutchlover@sbcglobal.net
Categories: Committed Relationship, Starsky Angst, Hutch Angst
Description: Starsky dreams about another man, which affects his job performance and his relationship with Hutch.

Notes: In most upper class households of Greek, Roman, and other pre-Christian Mediterranean societies it was common to take a young man as a lover. For the young man, it was viewed as an honor to have an older, wealthier, and more world-wise man for a lover. Most upper class marriages were contracted for procreation or political advantage; while love, sexual pleasure, and in some cases creating a life together, were reserved for same sex companions/lovers.

The question of whether David and Jonathan were lovers will always be debated, with no definitive answers. However, based on verses in the Torah and the Bible, the symbolism can be interpreted to indicate a loving, sexual relationship between the two. God said “do not as the Greeks”, however, some scholars aren’t sure if God meant their multi-theistic society or their lifestyles, or both. The reader can make of it what they will…

The characters of David and Jonathan, and the basis of their story is historically correct as per 1Samuel. However, I took a few liberties with some dialog. This story is NOT meant to offend or to pretend that I am a scholar on Jewish/Christian/Greek religions. It is only a story for entertainment purposes and should not be taken literally. I love to be educated and would encourage any discussion about the meaning behind the scriptures, however, please no posts claiming I’ve corrupted or misinterpreted their religious beliefs. The Holy Bible reads different ways for everyone.

I owe tremendous thanks to Molo, Range, and Flamingo for their editing and pointers. And as always my biggest supporter was Mystic Whim who pushed and shoved me to get this story out.

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 1

2008-04-21T13:28:00.001-04:00

As he stepped into the throne room, David – youngest son of the shepherd Jesse – stood in awe at how the stone and mud blocks fit perfectly together. In contrast to his humble abode, this grand edifice was a richly decorated structure. With camel hair thrushes, sheep’s wool blankets, colorful pillows lining the floor, and woolen blankets dyed in various blues and gold, the room was considerably warmer than his father’s great room. Dozens of people danced and partook of an abundance of foods and drink as they celebrated the defeat of the Philistine army at the hands of the Israelites. For a common sheep herder, it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and David felt his eyes rounding in awe at each step forward. His father would say it was glut and greed; shameful displays of the flesh and the weakness in man. But for a young man of David’s impressionable age, the sights and smells were intoxicating.

At Saul’s behest, David approached the well-built middle-aged man on the raised dais at the end of the room. As he came near the gold-lined throne, the king’s subjects fell quieter, unnerving the young warrior. It seemed that everyone was interested in the young man who defeated the Philistine's greatest warrior. At the powerful man’s request, David stood before his king, tall and with pride as Saul made the proclamation that “he is as mine own”. He glanced around to see if he would be scolded for the shamefulness of pride that he’d always been taught it was. But he saw no censure amongst the king’s subjects.

A tall, dark-haired young man, several years older than David, appeared at King Saul’s side. David drew in a sharp breath, so taken was he by the Prince’s beauty and the grace he commanded as he glided to the side of the throne. This must be one of King Saul’s sons, David thought. With such beauty, grace, and presence, he could be nothing less.

The powerful King of the Israelites addressed his youngest son, his deep voice resonating off the stone walls. “Mine own Jonathan, take David to thy quarters. Giveth all that he require. Command thy servants to him as you would to thee.”

Bowing low as a sign of respect to his king’s son, David was surprised to find a large warm hand fit into his own and raise him up as an equal. “Thou art equal and bless-ed by the Lord.” The rich tenor voice struck David’s soul, and he followed the Prince to his quarters, almost hypnotized.

Once the tapestry had dropped over the doorway, leaving the two alone in Prince Jonathan’s private quarters, David found his voice. “Thou art beauteous.” Startled at his own presumptuousness of speaking without being addressed, David lowered his eyes and hoped that the compassion he’d glimpsed in the other man’s eyes was not the reflection of candlelight.

He was reassured when Prince Jonathan put a hand under his chin and raised his head to meet the other’s eyes. More than reassured when Prince Jonathan told David that he was in awe of David’s greatness – both physically and spiritually; and honored to become a brother of one so respected by God and king.

David shook his head in denial, he was not worthy to be a friend of this important man in king’s household, much less his equal. How had it all come to this, that a young man with no prospects – a lowly sheepherder, and a youngest of many sons – was now on a par with a king’s son?

In the early morning hours of a gray, Bay City dawn, Hutch shook his lover’s shoulder, calling to him and trying to wake him from an apparent dream. “Starsky!”

“Thou hath honored me, thy Prince.” It was obvious that Starsky was dreaming as his voice was husky with sleep and his speech included words that sounded unlike any in the English language.

“Starsky! Wake up!” Hutch jostled his shoulder harder.

A dark, tousled head appeared from underneath the layers of bedclothes. “Huh? Hutch? What’s wrong?” Starsky squinted his eyes as they adjusted to a wakeful state.

What’s wrong? Nothing. Just that you were mumbling weirdly. What were you dreaming about?”

Starsky opened his sluggish and confused eyes all the way as his mind woke up to find his blond lover bowed over him. The feeling of being overwhelmed by… what, he didn’t know, stayed with him even after he woke. “Hutch. What the hell time’s it?”

Squinting past Starsky’s body, Hutch looked at the clock on the nightstand. “Uh, 5:30.”

“Geez, Hutch. You woke me that early to interpret a dream?!” Starsky threw the covers back over his head, hiding from his lover and his dreams.

“Well, since I’m up, I might as well get my run in.” Hutch turned down the bedcovers over him in a smooth motion, pulling them down from Starsky’s torso at the same time.

As Hutch started to get up, Starsky pushed him out of the bed lightly with the rest of the way with his muscular legs. “You do that an’ lemme sleep s’ummor…” he trailed off drowsily

While Hutch took his morning jog and then stopped to pick up breakfast for the two, Starsky dreamed again. Dreaming of a mysterious dark haired man, sand, warmth, and the past; the images disappearing in wisps of memory as he slowly awoke to begin his day.

The dreams were forgotten by both men by the time the two arrived at the precinct to begin their day. The next few days consisted of busy work hours chasing down crazed gunmen and incompetent criminals, so much so that neither man was up for any romantic festivities, and spent nights at their respective apartments.

While sleeping alone Starsky didn’t have any confusing and powerful dreams; however, once he returned to Hutch’s arms…

~*~

And David went with Jonathan and behaved himself wisely; and he was accepted in the sight of all the people and also in the sight of the Lord. His brothers were jealous, but he shared gladly of his good fortune. He was kind, but firm to the servants; gentle with animals; open and friendly with all those in the community; he held his counsel around King Saul and his advisors, only giving responses when addressed or questioned. His advice to the household and the military persons were sound and intelligent.

Jonathan became his confidant, his adviser, his best friend, and yes, his lover. He told David he was proud of the way he handled himself, for one so young and unused to the trappings of royalty. Within months, David’s popularity had surpassed that of the King. It worried David inwardly, but he kept his deference to God and King Saul and his sons, making him even more beloved of the people.

To gain the support of the young warrior, and to keep him close to hearth, King Saul gave his daughter Michal to David to wife. Michal loved David, but David loved Jonathan above all others. Honored by Saul’s gift, David felt the happiest he had ever in his life. Now, rather than being the youngest son with little future, he had a wife, a love, a family, a purpose.

The two men spent their days honing hunting skills, playing games of courage, and competing against each other for the attention of the serving girls. And nights that saw discussions from politic to farming, or perhaps listening to Court Musicians. David had never known such luxury and relaxation. Being the youngest of his father’s children, it was his responsibility to take care of his older brothers while they worked in the fields or with the flocks. But now he had a wife and servants to see to his needs.

“I delight in thee, my David. Herewith I giveth thee my cloak.” And Jonathan took off his royal blue cloak and laid it upon the shoulders of his friend. Jonathan was just as faithful to God and David, and it comforted David to know that not all of King Saul’s Court had lost the way of the Lord.

Humbled, David accepted the gift, but protested the symbol, as blue was worn only by those of the royal line. He turned to look into his beloved’s face; deep brown eyes lined with pale lashes, aquiline nose, and shoulder-length brown hair. Astounded that such a man – a good man – loved him, a modest shepherd, he reached up to touch Jonathan’s face and gently brushed it with his fingers. “I loveth thee too much to take thy rights.”

“The prophet Samuel sayeth that a son of Jesse will be anointed king over Israel. I shalt be proud to call thee my king.” To prove his words, Jonathan prostrated himself in front of David and grasped his strong callused hand, kissing the palm in reverence.

In shock, David raised Jonathan from his knees. The fear he felt from what Jonathan suggested – and should either man be found out – gave way to awe, and David grasped Jonathan’s neck, pulling the other man closer, giving him a ardent kiss as he lowered the two of them onto the pallet in the center of Jonathan’s tent. David had never felt such passion, beauty, and love before, even with his new wife.

And so Jonathan’s soul was knit with the soul of David and the two made a covenant between them. And that covenant was before God, and God was pleased.

Late at night thereafter, Jonathan would dismiss his servants & musicians, and he & David knew each other. But David always retired to his tent or rooms - and his wife, lest he shame Jonathan and Mikal. The Pharisees had always taught that God frowned upon such things, but men in other cultures that visited King Saul’s Court openly flaunted their young male lovers. How could man hold himself as high as God and decide what God liked and didn’t, he wondered? Eventually David decided that if God was unhappy with how David was living his life, He would make it known. And David was always faithful to God first, making sure he lived the laws as God had given them to Moses.

Under the warm covers, Starsky snuggled closer to his blond and began paying homage to Hutch’s neck with his mouth. “Jonathan.” He breathed gently. “Thou art mine and I am thine.”

The light ministrations roused Hutch from his sleeping state, and he wriggled under the tickling dry lips and hot breath.

Slowly, Starsky moved down to Hutch’s bare shoulder and arm, and mouthed into the tanned skin, “Jonathan, mine own.”

Hutch brought his hands up to the curled head to encourage the loving mouth. “Starsk, mmm, you sure know how to wake up a guy.” He looked down and noticed that Starsky was still asleep and dreaming. He rubbed the thick head of curls beneath his hands. “Starsk? Hey…”

“Jonathan….” The dry lips moved over Hutch’s pectorals to outline the name, as if Starsky were painting it on Hutch’s chest.

“Jona…? What the?” Hutch lifted the curly head in his palms and gazed upon Starsky’s sleeping countenance that was glazed with passion. “Starsky! Damnit, wake up!” He tapped the cheeks between his palms several times to rouse his lover.

The mussed head of curls rose up and Starsky looked around as if confused by his surroundings. Feeling the tension in the long body beneath him, he brought his hands up to soothe Hutch’s side and relax the taut body.

Wriggling out from underneath his lover, Hutch distanced himself as much as possible from Starsky. He looked up with wary eyes. “Starsky, who’s Jonathan?”

Confusion alit in the dark blue eyes and Starsky’s brows knit together. “Jonathan? I don’t know any Jonathan.”

Believing him, but feeling left out, Hutch still pouted. “Well, you were pawing all over me while calling out that name.”

“I’m sorry babe. It must’ve been just a dream. I swear to you Hutch, I don’t know any Jonathan.” Starsky rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” A whisper of teasing had entered his voice.

“Of course not. I trust you. It’s just,” Hutch paused, hating to admit to any weakness…anything as petty as jealousy, “it’s unnerving to hear your lover call out another man’s name at the same time he’s getting amorous.”

“Aw, Hutch. I’m sorry. I really don’t remember what the dream was about.” Rubbing his eyes, he looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Damn. We’re late again.”

The dream already forgotten, Hutch rolled onto his side and put his arms around his devilish lover. “Since when do you care about being late?” He snuggled closer, “You started something – now don’t you think you should finish it?” burying his nose into the messy, lush curls.

Starsky stared at him warily. “You sure that dream didn’t make you feel jealous? This isn’t like you. You hate to be late.”

“Dobey can wait for once. And yes, I’m positive I’m not jealous.” Then Hutch shut up as his mouth found, and latched onto, a pale earlobe, nipping and pulling the tiny appendage as his tongue traced the outer cartilage.

With difficulty, Starsky pushed himself away and rolled out of bed, taking most of the covers with him. “As much as I’d love to take advantage of your offer, we gotta finish the paperwork on the Phillips case. The DA needs it today to file their charges within the time limit.” He clicked his tongue and jerked a thumb upward to indicate his lover should be up and at ’em also.

Disappointed, slightly horny, and confused by his partner’s unwillingness to play around – most unlike Starsky, Hutch sighed and rolled out the other side of the bed to prepare himself for another day. Left high and dry with his blood pulsing in his veins after Starsky’s amorous handling, the rest of the day from that point on seemed off to Hutch; the shower wasn’t warm enough, the eggs and coffee were cool, the air was filmy and crusty, the Torino’s engine extra loud.

All day, Starsky kept up a constant chatter about their ongoing cases, the troubles with his car, vacation ideas, etc; causing the unused adrenaline in Hutch’s systems to turn to tension. As Starsky pulled in front of Venice Place at the end of the work day, Hutch got out and slammed the passenger door, Starsky grimacing behind him at the impact of heavy metal upon metal.

His nerves shot and head pounding from the frustration of that morning, Starsky’s faux pas, not to mention the constant verbal onslaught his partner laid on him, Hutch fumbled with the keys in his hand as he hurriedly tried to unlock his door.

The next thing Hutch knew, Starsky was placing one of his hands over his own that held the keys; to calm Hutch.

A blaze of sensation shot from his hand where they were connected, and up Hutch’s arm. He was still amazed at the response that a simple touch by his partner could generate – even after all this time. But he held onto lingering disappointment and told Starsky that he wanted to be alone tonight. “Just go home,” he told his shadow as Starsky tried to follow him in.

“Go home?!” Starsky was stunned. “But babe, why?”

“I’ve got a headache. I’ve had one all day just listening to your nonstop babble.” Hutch finally got the door opened and stood at the entryway. “And I don’t think I could stand to hear you call out some other guy’s name two nights in a row while lying next to me.”

Chagrined and slightly hurt, Starsky turned away toward the stairs. “I told you I was sorry. Don’t even remember anything about it,” he mumbled. But he honored Hutch’s request and took off to his own place, alone.

That night Hutch was the one with the troubled sleep. He could never get comfortable without the warm, compact, muscular body of his best friend and lover beside him. Starsky, however, slept well burrowed within his blankets; pillows placed beside him to soothe his aching psyche. Without Hutch beside him, there were no disturbing dreams of a mysterious lover named Jonathan.

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 2

2008-04-21T13:18:00.002-04:00

The next morning, Hutch met Starsky at the precinct door with a fresh cup of coffee. “Sorry about last night. I really wasn’t feeling well yesterday.” He offered the steaming mug to his partner as a way of apologizing.

Warily accepting the peace offering, Starsky asked Hutch, “What the hell was your problem last night? And don’t tell me that crap about – you know – the name thing.”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay?” His partner tilted his head toward the nearly full room of cops.

They didn’t get settled for long before Captain Dobey came out of his office asking to speak with them. He indicated that they should have a seat, then closed the door behind them.

Once seated, Dobey went straight to the point. “Have you guys discussed your future careers with the Department, like I suggested the other day?”

The two detectives before him just looked at each other without saying anything, which Dobey took as a ‘no’.

“You two are possibly the best investigators this department has. Your intuition and instincts could be better served elsewhere.” He paused, gathering his next ammunition. “Isn’t it better to move on now, rather than take a chance that next time – and there will be one – will be the last time. You both deserve better than becoming a statistic.”

“We’re good at what we do.” Starsky began to protest.

Dobey looked hard at him. “You’ve been shot, what? Four times in the last six years? And you almost died several years ago during the Gunther investigation. You’re both almost 40. How much more do you think your bodies can take? Do you want to take that chance?”

“I don’t want to lose Hutch as a partner.”

“You’re taking a bigger chance of losing him on the streets now, if you don’t listen to what I’m saying. It would hurt others in this department if something happened to either of you.”

“Aw, Captain. We didn’t know you cared.”

He ignored Starsky. “Listen you two, I’ve been where you are. I can say without being too immodest that I was a damn good investigator, too. But I knew when it was my time to scale back, to take a less dangerous position. You can still do good work, help others in different capacities than as street cops.”

Hutch was absently tapping his forefinger into the arm of the chair. “We understood all this when you first addressed it, sir. We just haven’t had time to discuss it.”

“I suggest you do so as soon as possible, then. There are various openings coming up in the next few months due to retirements, and some of those should appeal to both of you.” Dobey finished with a warning. “If you don’t, Dave especially with his medical history, could be taken off the street roster and placed somewhere safer, somewhere he doesn’t want to go. The Department has occasionally pulled cops off the street when they feel health and safety can be a deterrent.”

“We’ll discuss it.” Hutch promised, as both detectives rose from their chairs, effectively finishing their conversation.

Pulling their ongoing case files their brief meeting with Dobey, they headed out to Starsky’s car to run down a few snitches. They pushed their conversation with their superior from their minds. Driving through the streets as they kept an eye out for recent parolees and their informants, they chatted briefly about pending cases.

Looking out the passenger window, Hutch finished the apology he started back in the squad room. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you last night, Starsk. Well, one thing just led to another.” He shrugged his shoulders and glanced sideways at his partner to see how the apology was going over.

Without taking his eyes from the road, Starsky kept his left hand on the wheel, and grabbed his partner’s knee with his right and squeezed. “Just don’t make a habit of it, babe.” Putting his hand back on the wheel to make a turn, he flashed a grin at his contrite partner. “I don’t like sleeping alone when I don’t have to.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I had a problem sleeping without you, too.” Light blue eyes softened in love and understanding, as they tried to convey to Starsky’s darker ones that he, too, had had a miserable night.

Too close to a soapy scene for Starsky, he quickly turned Hutch’s words to playfulness. “Then I guess you’ll have to make it up to me.”

Wide grins and twinkling eyes met across the interior of the car and they continued on in companionable ease. Nothing more was said of the previous night, but after reporting back to the precinct after snagging a mugger and following up on some leads, they logged out for the rest of the day and headed for Starsky’s without question or discussion.

Eating dinner while sitting on the couch, Hutch brought up the subject of the mysterious dreams again. “These dreams, Starsk. Do you think they might have something to do with Dobey suggesting we move on? Take the Lieutenant’s exam or other, less dangerous positions? That’s a big change for us, job-wise.”

“I don’t know, Hutch! I keep telling you that I don’t remember them.” Starsky threw his hands up in the air, frustrated with himself; unable to remember the whys or wherefores of his strange dreams.

“Maybe you don’t want to break up the partnership, move to other departments.”

“Hell, no. I don’t want to work with anyone else. No one knows me the way you do, and visa versa. We might get different shifts, different buildings; barely see each other. What if you get sent out on a case and trouble happens? I don’t want to take the chance of you out there without me to watch your back.”

Hutch looked at him affectionately, “We’ll have to eventually, you know. Leave the more physical stuff to the younger guys. Especially if they discover our relationship. Wouldn’t it be better to make those choices ourselves than to have them thrust upon us.”

Starsky wanted to drop the subject. “Let’s talk about something else.” Leaning over, Starsky took Hutch’s face in his hands and kissed him passionately. “Like how I’d rather do my own thrusting.” He added wickedly while giving a little thrust of his groin into Hutch’s side.

Their lovemaking that night was an intense affirmation of all the feelings they had for one another. Even before becoming lovers, they were unable to hide the depth of their emotions; unashamed to show their feelings by touch and language. It wasn’t any different once that last intimate step was taken, only with more levels and layers.

And Starsky’s dreams that night were just as intense….

~*~

And Saul became afraid of David because the Lord was with him, and was departed from Saul. There was tension in the palace of Saul, as he who previously was in the Lord’s graces became vicious and angry. The servants also loved David for his outgoing nature and his honor; they feared their master who held life or death over them, but did not love him.

The elder man tried to trick David into doing that which went against his duty to his God. But still David never defied Saul directly or showed disrespect to his king. All which made King Saul angrier, prone to mistakes and harsher with his people. Even Saul’s advisers began to defer to David, rather than to Saul’s sons.

And Saul spake to his servants that David shouldst be slain. Because David was loved and held up in their eyes, one of the servants spake to his Prince of Saul’s desire. Jonathan was in fear for his friend and beloved. He loved much in David, so Jonathan warned him, saying “Saul, my father, seeketh to kill thee; now therefore, I pray thee, take heed of thyself and abide in a secret place in the field. And I will commune with my father and what I see, that I will tell thee.” He trembled in fear for David’s life as he laid hands upon David.

But David knew what Saul’s decision wouldst be, and he was not afraid. “Thy father certainly knoweth that I have found love and grace in thine eyes. He knoweth that I am beloved of thee.” He had no fear of Saul, only for Jonathan. David wanted no consequence to fall upon Jonathan. He would give up everything – walk away from it all. His wife, wealth, family, status; yes, even his beloved. He put his trust in God that He would provide and see that His will be done. But he told Jonathan not be too hasty and draw attention to himself, and he convinced his Prince to let David hide himself in town.

So David escaped his king and family, and hid himself in a nearby field. The reeds were tall and the field large. All the while concerned that King Saul would use his considerable power to cause harm to Jonathan or his family.

“Jonathan, beloved. My Grace,” Starsky mumbled as he tossed his head on the pillows.

His voice woke Hutch, whose eyes focused on the troubled face of his lover.

“There is but a step between me and death.” The blue eyes were moving behind closed lids, and the pouting mouth spoke the words with clarity.

Those words frightened Hutch, as he wondered what kind of a dream Starsky was having now. Leaning over, he gathered the stirring head in his large hands and gently kissed his lover to bring him from his troubled dreams.

Hutch was planting whispers of kisses on Starsky’s face when the latter’s eyes startled open. “Hutch? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you the same. You were having a nightmare I think, and talking about death.”

Rubbing his face harshly, Starsky got up to make a bathroom run and splash cold water on his face without responding. Walking back nude into the bedroom, he glanced over at the clock on the bedside stand and grinned slyly. He waggled his eyebrows at the long form in his bed. “Since we’re both wide awake, how about we use it wisely?”

Hutch knew he didn’t have anything to worry about in regards to Starsky’s faithfulness. When, for crying out loud, would Starsky have time for another lover. It just hurt being left out. There had to be some reason for these dreams.

This time their loving was gentle and slow, as each grasped onto different feelings. Hutch, worried over his partner’s words and dream; guilty that he couldn’t do anything about them to ease Starsky’s pain. Starsky was left with feelings of apprehension from those same dreams, and frustration that they were upsetting Hutch.

When the moon had come over, the king sat down to eat. Jonathan and all the people arose, yet David’s place was empty. Nevertheless Saul spake nothing of it, for he thought something hath befallen David. And after the second day came to pass that David’s place was empty, Saul said unto Jonathan “wherefore cometh not the son of Jesse to eat neither yesterday nor today?”

And Jonathan answered in earnest, “David asked leave of me to go to Shechem.”

Then Saul’s anger was kindled against Jonathan as he kneweth he spake not the truth, and he said unto him, “Thou perverse son of a rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own shame and unto the shame of your nakedness? For as long as the son of Jesse liveth, thou shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom. Wherefore now send and fetch him unto me, for he shall surely die.” And in anger Saul cast a javelin at Jonathan to smite him; whereby Jonathan knew that it was determined of his father to slay David.

So Jonathan arose from the table and excused himself from his father’s presence for the night, keeping his anguish hid from his angry sire. Couldn’t his father see how righteous and good David was? If God had chosen David as Saul’s successor, who were they to argue His will?

And it came to pass in the morning that Jonathan went into the field to tell David of all he had learned, his heart heavy with sorrow. Returning with a little lad, Jonathan said to him, “Run, find the arrows which I shoot.” And as the lad ran, Jonathan shot an arrow far behind the lad, amongst the tall grown weeds, far from sight. And Jonathan cried after him, “Make speed, haste, stay not.” But the lad knew not anything, only Jonathan and David knew the matter. And whence the lad came back, Jonathan gave his artillery unto him and told him to carry them to the palace in his place.

As soon as the lad was gone, David arose from his place amongst the flowering weeds, and fell on his knees to the ground. Jonathan lifted him and they kissed one another and wept. Their sadness apparent as the wind echoed through the reeds along the banks of the nearby river.

And Jonathan said unto David, “Come and let us go further out into the field.” They left for further a field to mask themselves from Saul’s emissaries, lest they be discovered and killed for their passions. Then Jonathan made another covenant with David saying he did not fear death. “If the Lord requires it, even at the hand of David’s enemies.” Threat of death would not stay their love. And Jonathan caused David to swear again because he loved him as he loved his own soul.

And Jonathan said to David, “Go in peace, forasmuch as we have sworn to each other in the name of the Lord, my seed and thy seed will be together for ever.” And David arose and took leave from his wife, family, lover, and status in Saul’s court, looking behind not once, weeping “Jonathan, mine own! For ever I vow.” Sorrow and pain resounding through each word, as they were carried on the winds across the field to Jonathan watching his retreat.

Hutch stood over his dreaming lover. He had gotten up a short while ago to take an early morning run, deciding to let Starsky sleep a little longer after the previous night’s marathon of amorous activities.

As he ran, Hutch’s mind filled with contemplation. Who was this Jonathan that Starsky spoke of in his sleep? A past lover from his service in Vietnam? A boy he loved in New York or when he first moved out here? Had Starsky even had another male lover in his past? Hutch didn’t know for sure; they never really discussed it before. He didn’t even let his mind wander to the thought that Starsky could be in love with another or cheating on him. He knew Starsky; at least he thought he did…

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 3

2008-04-21T13:07:00.002-04:00

Back at his apartment, Starsky woke at the sound of his door closing. He was tangled in the bedsheets and there were drying tears on his face. Looking beside him he didn’t see his partner. “Hutch?” Starsky called, thinking he was elsewhere in the apartment. Only the chirping of the birds and the traffic from outside answered him. The overwhelming silence from inside the apartment flittered down like dust particles that swirled in streams of sunlight.

An overwhelming sense of anxiety and worry shuddered through Starsky. ‘Where was his Hutch?’

Wrapping one of the sheets around his nude body like a toga, Starsky padded into the kitchen. He found a pot of warm coffee on the sink top and a short note. Gone jogging, back in 10-15. No ‘Love Hutch’ or any other romantic qualifier on the note.

Popping into the bathroom to take a quick shower to wash away the dried sweat from the previous night, Starsky was relieved to hear the noises of his partner coming in and moving about the apartment as he finished up with his showering. Rubbing a towel vigorously over his head to absorb as much water as possible from the heavy locks, he walked out of the bathroom with nothing else on. “Hey babe? I hope you’re planning on taking a shower too?”

Not even showing surprised at Starsky’s quiet entrance behind him, Hutch came back with a smart aleck remark. “No Starsky, I thought to grace your presence with my odiferous scent.” Hutch rolled his eyes at the dumb question.

“Ode to what? Never mind.” Starsky wandered back down the hallway to the bedroom to change for work. “Why didn’t you come join me in the shower then?”

“Because Starsk, you were almost done and I don’t think we have time this morning for any extra curricular activities.

“You didn’t care about being late the other morning.” Hearing the opening and shutting the cupboard doors, Hutch was apparently looking for something halfway decent to eat. They hadn’t been shopping in awhile, and his cupboards were usually pretty bare anyway. Well bare of anything of nutritional value, as Hutch would say.

“Yeah, and you didn’t care about accommodating me then either. So we’re even.”

Startled at the surly nature of his lover, Starsky came back out to the kitchen and watched Hutch as he finished getting himself dressed. “What’s gotten into you?” Knowing what Hutch’s smart-ass response would be.

The age-old response ‘beside you?’ didn’t come, however. “Nothing.” Hutch replied shortly. Obviously he was frustrated in his search as he dropped his arms and turned, walking past Starsky without even glancing and admiring the fine form in tight jeans as he usually did. “I can’t find anything to eat around here, I might as well take my shower. We can stop for muffins on the way in.”

“And I can get my daily donut dosage.” Starsky agreed happily.

“While your partner deals with the daily sugar rush.” Hutch mumbled under his breath from the bedroom as he gathered his clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Rather than argue with his grumpy partner – a sure fire way to put both of them in a bad mood and ruin any possibility of a sex life that night, Starsky gave in to Hutch’s request to drive that day.

*****

All day long Hutch was short with Starsky. He didn’t bother taking the time to complete his morning routine; leaving his hair wet, his shirt untucked, and wearing tennis shoes instead of his usual suede shoes or boots. It was if Hutch didn’t care about his appearance.

Starsky stared at his lover’s rigid back as he walked out of the squadroom after they had check in with Dobey at the beginning of their shift. Wondering if perhaps Hutch didn’t get enough sleep the night before. He didn’t think it was anything he did or didn’t do that might be contributing to his partner’s grumpiness.

While Starsky pondered Hutch’s mood, the object of his thoughts stuck his head through the double doors of the squadroom. “Starsky! Are you gonna stand there all day like a tree, or are you gonna back me up?”

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Starsky jumped to follow Hutch, who was already halfway down the hall.

While cruising the – for once – fairly quiet streets, they got a call from Dispatch telling them to stop by The Pits.

Huggy was waiting outside for them and leaned down into the open window of the LTD. “Word on the streets is that Toga’s gonna flay Gigi – Sweet Alice’s one time roomie – ’cause she’s been holdin’ out on ’im. Thought you might wanna know.” He slapped the window frame twice in good-bye, and stood up as the two pulled away from the curb.

Toga was a well known pimp that normally ran a loose ship and let his ‘girls’ fend for themselves, as long as they checked in with him occasionally and, of course, paid him his ‘fees’. Gigi was one of Toga’s early models who’d been with him a long time, and amazingly hadn’t succumbed to drugs or drink.

“Well, let’s go see if we can find Toga or Gigi.” Starsky logged the information into their notebook.

Surprisingly – or maybe not with their luck, they spotted Toga’s metallic purple Corvette as it turned in front of them just moments later.

“With that paint job, it’s like he wants to be found.” Starsky observed.

Glaring over at his partner, eyes widened incredulously, Hutch felt his mouth drop open, but didn’t say anything about pots and kettles.

Following him a few more blocks, they were not surprised to see him pull up next to the corner where Gigi was working. In less than two minutes he had gotten out of the car, grabbed the woman’s arm to force her into the passenger’s side and drove away, not realizing that two cops were close behind.

They followed him to Venice and slowed down when he turned down a gravel roadway to a bleak field near a smelly, dirty canal filled with pollutants from local factories. Parking far enough away not to be noticed, they crept to the edge of the canal through the tall weeds, where Toga was shaking Gigi roughly by the arm, releasing her only to smack his fist upside her head.

Hutch charged, hitting the scarred Hispanic man in the back, and knocked Toga away and down from Gigi, while Starsky went to her aid. Rolling in the dirt and grass and struggling for the upper hand, both combatants fell into the murky water of the canal. Toga came up coughing first as he struggled to the embankment. Starsky was just about to go to his partner’s aid, when he saw Toga crawl up the side with Hutch hanging onto his ankle, forehead bleeding slightly from a slight cut.

Pulling the weakened pimp to the top, Starsky pushed him onto his stomach and pulled his arms behind him, cuffing the wet man. Then he leaned over the side and helped his partner up. Going to the back of the LTD, he pulled out a blanket and wrapped it around his drenched and dirty partner, ignoring the complaints of their perp.

“I called for a back-up to take this guy in. We’ll take Gigi home, and then get you in some warm clothes.”

Catching his breath, Hutch shook his head in the negative. “No, Starsk. I can shower and change at Parker. Let’s take care of this guy and get Gigi’s statement before heading home.”

“But Hutch, you need to get out of those wet clothes. You know you’re susceptible to…”

Glaring at his partner, Starsky knew how Hutch felt about being reminded that his lungs would always be vulnerable to lung problems since his bout with a plague that had nearly killed him.

Holding up his hands in retreat, Starsky knew not to argue with Hutch when he was in one of his moods. “Okay. But don’t think I’m gonna nurse you if you get sick.”

Snorting back a smart remark, Hutch replied, “I’m not gonna get sick. And I don’t need you mother-henning me, either.”

*****

But Hutch did get sick. By the time their shift ended, he was already running a mild fever and had a weepy nose. Starsky unwillingly took the keys to the LTD, as Hutch was in no shape to drive, and took his partner home. Driving the LTD wasn’t Starsky’s favorite activities; in fact, the main reason they used his car was to avoid driving the LTD in case something this happened. Wouldn’t you know that the stubborn idiot would get sick when we were driving his car.

Tucking his big, grumpy blond into the brass bed, Starsky got some aspirin and orange juice for his ailing partner. Orange juice and chicken soup were the Jewish cure for all, according to Starsky’s mother. He smoothed back the freshly washed blond strands from Hutch’s forehead, avoiding the white strip that covered the slight injury. He felt the warmth radiate from his skin. “Just relax babe. Go to sleep, I’ll be here.”

“Go on home Starsk. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine come morning. You stay here, you might catch it too.”

Since his fever was only 99.5, Starsky reluctantly agreed, but placed the phone on the nightstand next to the bed. “You call me, Hutch, if you feel worse or you need me. I’ll come right over.”

Concerned about Hutch, Starsky didn’t sleep much that night and when he did, he didn’t dream – at least none that stayed with him.

The following day Starsky ended up calling Hutch in sick. It was obvious that his cold had moved to his chest, and his fever had risen to just over 100. After checking with his partner early in the morning, Starsky rubbed some Vapo-Rub on Hutch’s chest, and fixed him a breakfast of orange juice, aspirin, and wheat toast; after which Starsky left him to sleep, promising that he’d call frequently during the day to check on his partner.

When he arrived at Venice Place that evening, Starsky closed the door quietly behind him in the event Hutch was sleeping. Walking quietly to the alcove, Starsky leaned over the prone figure and placed his hand on Hutch’s forehead, relieved that his temperature was down. He smoothed his hand down Hutch’s temple and petted his hair into some semblance of neatness. Why do you gotta be so damn stubborn, Hutch? No matter what Hutch said, he was staying.

*****

Feeling the gentle ministration, Hutch opened his eyes. He had been awake for some time, unable to sleep very much due to the cough in his chest. The care and comfort that his lover provided was a healing medicine of its own merit, and Hutch would never deny himself that care.

After bringing his partner some aspirin, water, cough syrup, and warmed chicken soup, Starsky settled down on the couch to watch the evening news. But Hutch stayed in bed and rolled onto his side facing the wall, spreading his body over the big bed, leaving no doubt of how unwell he was still feeling, and no room for his lover.

Eventually Starsky made up a bed on the couch, where he was near enough to still hear Hutch’s heavy breathing and deep coughs, resigned to the fact that his sick partner didn’t want to be cuddled. In what was becoming a pattern, Starsky again had no distraught surprising dreams without Hutch beside him to disturb his sleeping patterns.

*****

The next morning Starsky woke upon hearing the continuous blaring of Hutch’s alarm. He went to turn it off and check on his sick partner. Touching the golden face with the back of his hand, Starsky was relieved to note the absence of fever – though he could still hear the tightness in Hutch’s chest as it rose and fell with each breath.

“Hutch? Wake up buddy. Do you feel up to goin’ in today?” Starsky shook Hutch’s shoulder and badgered him to wake up.

Eventually Hutch’s eyes opened, darker blue than usual and unhappy. “Leave me ’lone. Don’t want to go in. Just want to lay here.” He closed his eyes and burrowed beneath the covers.

That wasn’t like his partner, Starsky thought. Hutch never let a simple cold put him down. “Come on Blintz, stop sulking. You’re fine. I can tell by the pout in your voice. I’ll get Dobey to keep us on desk duty today.”

The covers were pushed back forcefully as Hutch glared at Starsky. “Fine. If I agree to go in will you leave me alone?!”

Getting off the bed, Starsky threw up his hands in retreat. “I hope you get over this cold soon, Hutch. You’re even grouchier than usual.” He stomped to the bathroom to get dressed, thinking, This is gonna be a winner of a day.

After a quiet and tense filled day, Starsky knew better than to suggest they spend the night together. Instead he dropped off Hutch at his own apartment, and told him he could drive himself to work the next day and every day after that, until he got over whatever was bothering him. Starsky was a little agitated himself that Hutch wouldn’t confide in him.

*****

After mulling over his feelings while alone that evening, Hutch realized he was being foolish. When would Starsky ever have time for another lover? And why did he have to share everything that had happened before he met Hutch? If this ‘Jonathan’ was someone he knew from Vietnam, Hutch could understand Starsky not wanting to talk about it and having to relive the nightmare of the war. Feeling a little guilty, Hutch decided he would give Starsky a call and suggest a day at the park for their next schedule day off – which happened to be the next day.

His partner sounded relieved at the offer as Starsky accepted. Hutch figured a night or two apart wouldn’t harm the relationship and would strengthen their resolve to never take the other for granted.

*****

Abandoning the idea of going to their usual park as it was a beautiful Sunday and would most likely be filled to capacity, they opted to travel farther out to an out-of-the way field that was nicely trimmed and filled with wild flowers. By chance there was also an archery field within 100 yards.

The two relished in kisses that were open and free; fed each other sandwiches and pieces of bananas; they relaxed in each other’s arms while watching the clouds overhead; and they talked a bit about Hutch’s worries over Starsky’s dreams.

Sitting up and crossing his legs, Hutch began to twine clover and grass between his fingers as his mind worked. “You know, Starsk. I wish you’d open up to me more.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Hutch? You know I talk to you about shit I never would’ve talked about with anyone else.” He turned onto his side, to face his partner.

“You sound like I force you to discuss our relationship.”

Starsky sat up, and looked at Hutch. “Hey? What does our relationship have to do with any of this?” He waved his hand outward. “These dreams?”

The other man reared back. “You don’t think you shouting out ‘Jonathan’ in your sleep isn’t affecting our relationship?” Hutch asked incredulously.

Starsky shrugged. “It shouldn’t.” He grabbed Hutch by the shoulders and pulled him forward. “Hutch, listen carefully and listen close. I…love…you. Only you.” He released the blond. “I’m not saying I wasn’t in love with Terry or possibly Rosie. But there has never been any other guy. Now or before. Never. You gotta trust me, babe.”

Hutch sighed. “I do. It’s just…I’ve never been very lucky in the love department and maybe my mind is subconsciously wondering when this one will end.”

“Never, love. Not even after one of or both of us is gone.”

Starsky, sensing that Hutch’s allergies were beginning to act up due to lying among the wild flowers and weeds, stood up and brushed off his jeans, then offered his hand to his recumbent lover. “Up and at ‘em Blintz. Let’s go play some Frisbee.” He wanted to shake the moroseness away from Hutch.

Mumbling that he really wanted nothing more than to go home, but agreeable to whatever Starsky wanted, Hutch accepted the proffered hand and pulled himself up.

Rather than showing off to each other with tricks, they just tossed the plastic disk back and forth for awhile. Until Starsky caught sight out of the corner of his eye three arrows flying far from their objective, and a young boy racing after to retrieve them. He’d barely caught the Frisbee as it hit him mid-chest, when a sharp pain shot through the top of his head.

Rooted by the pain and the pounding in his head, he slowly turned to watch the scene next to him play out. The images became blurry and another identical scene appeared in his mind and overlapped the real one before him.

Alarmed by the sudden paleness and noticeable weakness of his lover, Hutch ran over and caught Starsky as he began to collapse to his knees. He reached up and touched Hutch’s face as tears fell from his darkened eyes.

“The Lord be with me and thee for ever.” And then David Starsky collapsed.

NS: David and His Jonathan, Part-4

2008-04-21T13:04:00.000-04:00

Starsky came to in the car and refused to be taken to the doctor’s or the hospital. Reluctantly, and against his better judgment, Hutch took his lover home, since Starsky appeared to be okay. Ever since the Gunther shooting, Hutch was always a little defensive when it came to Starsky’s health.

Making sure Starsky was settled comfortably on his couch with a glass of orange juice, Hutch asked him what happened back at the field.

“I don’t know. I just felt real dizzy and got this horrible pain in my head.” He lifted his hand to the top of his head and pushed down on the curls.

Hutch knelt down and looked into Starsky’s eyes, which appeared clear but confused. “What was with the biblical talk?”

“Huh? What talk?”

“You said something about the Lord and me and thee forever.” Hutch began a gentle exploration of Starsky’s head to make sure there were no bumps or cuts. Tenderly squashing the curls, he separated the dark strands to get a better look at his scalp.

Expression confused, Starsky shook his head slowly, “I swear to you, Hutch, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Satisfied that his partner had no injuries, Hutch sat down on the couch next to him. “I’m betting it has something to do with those strange dreams you’ve been having lately.”

“But I don’t even remember any of those dreams, at least not the details…just impressions.”

“Well if something like this happens again, I want you to see someone.”

“Like a shrink?!” groaned Starsky.

“Or your regular doctor,” Hutch suggested, “and don’t give me any flak about this. I’m starting to get worried. First you start spouting off in another language and talking in a different dialect, then you’re saying another man’s name in your sleep, and now you pass out after getting a severe headache.” To emphasize his point, Hutch pointed his finger in Starsky’s face, which the other man batted away.

“All right, all right, whatever. Anything to stop your nagging.” But Starsky smiled when he said it.

“A nag, am I?”

“Yeah, Hutchinson, and a mother hen to boot.”

“Well, maybe I should just mother hen you into taking your clothes off so I can make you feel better?” With a fake snooty accent, Hutch added “You just leave it up to Dr. Hutchinson. He knows the cure for what ails you.”

Grinning like a randy teenager, Starsky rose from the couch and walked toward Hutch’s bedroom. “Well Dr. Hutchinson, I think I need to get more comfortable while you work your ‘cure’.” And he twitched his ass to entice his willing lover to follow him.

That night, Starsky dreamed again….

As David ran, hiding under the cover of night and a worn peasant cloak that Jonathan found for him, he wept in loss of his home and family. But mostly he wept in loss of his love. “Jonathan, thou art the truest love ever known.” Not even facing the Philistine army filled him with as much fear and dread as leaving the city of his birth. He didn’t know what lay ahead or what the Lord had planned for him.

He only knew that Saul would slay him; yet he was reluctant to leave Jonathan to face alone the upcoming trials Samuel had prophesied about. ‘But Jonathan bade me to take leave and hide myself’ he told himself as he left the city of his birth. And he could not disobey his lover and his Prince. Nor did he want to disobey the Lord and his destiny.

“For ever thou hast promised me. The Lord will smile upon our countenance and we wilst be blessed once more.” Only the hope of their covenant kept David on his course. And trust in the Lord that what He had planned for them would not deny their love. He couldn’t even think of what his life would be like without Jonathan by his side, but he would do as the Lord commanded.

Starsky cried out in his dreams, an anguish that crossed through time and space, erupting in a legion of tears falling from beneath his long lashes and onto swollen cheeks.

Tormented moaning and the trembling body awoke Hutch, and he gathered Starsky close and rubbed his arms to soothe his troubled partner awake.

“Shhh, David. It’s just me.”

While his eyes were opened, his gaze was blurred, and it was apparent that Starsky wasn’t ‘there’ – in the same place as Hutch. “Jonathan? Hast thou come to me?”

“David, it’s me. Hutch. Ken.”

His face going from anguish to confusion to relief, Starsky buried his face in Hutch’s chest. “Hutch. Oh man, I think I had another dream.”

“Yeah, you sure did. Do you remember any of it?”

Starsky just shook his head. “Uh uh. Just a sense of sadness.” He wiped his wet cheeks and looked up at Hutch. “I, uh, did I say anything out loud?”

Hutch smiled gently. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“What’d I say?”

Smoothing the curls, Hutch looked outward toward the wall. “Oh just… ‘Jonathan, hast thou come back to me’ or something like that.”

“Shit. Not again.”

“Don’t worry about it buddy. I know you love me.” He kissed the top of Starsky’s head. “But you’re getting me worried.”

“I’ll be okay. I just gotta get over these dreams.”

“So you’ll go see a psychiatrist then?”

Rolling his eyes, Starsky tucked his face back into the warmth of Hutch’s body. “Quit pestering me. It’s not so bad I can’t live with them.”

“Ah, but can you sleep with them?”

“Aw, just shut up and kiss me so we can go back to sleep.”

~*~

The following night Starsky had another dream. More visions of running through desert towns and barren fields. But was he running from something or toward something…or someone? This time Starsky startled himself awake. He looked over at his sleeping lover, then at the clock, which read 2:10 a.m. Sighing, he slowly rose from the bed, careful not to jostle it and bother Hutch.

He threw on a pair of briefs and crept into the living room, where he turned on a lamp and sat down in the lounge chair to read. His anxiety over the weird dreams wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. And that wasn’t like him. Rarely did anything keep him getting his daily six hours – even on stakeouts. Well, except bears or Satanists disturbing his vacation. Maybe some heavy reading will put me to sleep without any weird dreams, he thought, knowing that he had to get some sleep in order to perform his job to the best of his ability.

Hutch found him at 6:00 a.m., curled up on the lounge chair on his side with his face pressed against the back of the leather chair, and a throw blanket over him, a book dangling from his fingers. Starsky looked like a child who curled up and fell asleep in some absent grandparent’s lap while reading his favorite fairy tale. Mouth opened, long lashes fluttering with each snore. That he – Ken Hutchinson – was blessed with the love and care of this soul almost overwhelmed him.

Shaking his head to clear his vision, Hutch grinned wryly and removed the book and set it on the end table. “You’re gonna have a hell of a backache when you wake up buddy.” Repositioning the blanket around Starsky’s shoulders, Hutch reached out and caressed the exposed side of Starsky’s stubbled face.

*****

For the most part, Starsky felt more rested when he woke up, even with the stiff back. The right side of his face was numb from being smashed against the leather chair for most of the night, but he didn’t wake with the feelings of fear and torment that he had during the night and other previous nights.

He made a conscious decision not to tell Hutch that he’d dreamt again, instead playing off that Hutch’s snoring was annoying, so he’d gone in the living room to relax and get some sleep.

This same pattern went on for several more days, with Hutch finding Starsky lying either on the couch or in the leather chair at his own apartment. Hutch was concerned; he had no way of knowing what was going on with his partner. But it didn’t seem to bother Starsky to wake up every morning with a stiff back or sore neck, and it wasn’t affecting their love or professional lives, so Hutch left well enough alone.

Eventually and inevitably, Starsky’s sleep pattern interruptions began to affect his work patterns…

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 5

2008-04-21T11:26:00.003-04:00

Over slightly more than a week, Starsky’s face became drawn, his eyes red and tired with dark circles beneath them. The irrepressible grin faded into non-existence, and he began dozing at inappropriate times – such as during a debriefing with Dobey. He was short and surly with those around him, including his partner. And he began to show a lack of detail not only in his personal attire, but more importantly at work.

The last few reports Starsky had written either had missing details, wrong information, or they rambled on with nonsensical details that had no place in their reports. Hutch found himself covering for his partner by reviewing them on the sly before they got to Captain Dobey for his approval.

The one he held in his hand was one of the worst. Starsky had misidentified a crucial witness to an assault and battery, as well as transposed the address numbers of another potential witness. It was time to talk to his partner and figure out what was going on beneath those curls.

Not wanting to confront his partner in front of their co-workers and embarrass him, Hutch waited until they were in Starsky’s car.

“Starsk, we’ve gotta have a talk.”

“Now what?” Starsky sighed melodramatically.

“Now we talk about what’s bothering you.”

Squinting his eyes in frustration, Starsky mumbled, “Nothin’ botherin’ me. I’m fine.”

“Starsky, don’t bother lying. You know you’re terrible at it…”

“Except undercover. Yeah, I know. I’ve heard this speech before.”

“You’re not sleeping well. So something’s got to be on your mind.” Hutch’s eyes softened in worry, which in turn bugged Starsky to no end, though he wasn’t sure why.

“I told you Hutch, there’s nothing to be concerned about. So I’m not sleeping well. That don’t mean anything.”

“It does when it starts affecting your work.”

Starsky jerked the steering wheel to the right and pulled the car to the curb. Putting the transmission in park, his dark blue eyes fared in anger at Hutch’s accusation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Hutchinson?” he scowled. “Are you accusing me of not doing my job? When have I ever not held up my half of this partnership?”

Looking directly into the angry, tired, face, Hutch quietly said, “Starsky you wrote Carmen Rodrigez’s name as Armenia Rodriguez on the Moamin assault report, as well as transposed 5212 Fulton to 2512.”

A flicker of alarm played in those dark eyes, replaced quickly by anger again while Starsky waited for Hutch to continue.

“You’re irritable all the time, and you dozed off in front of Dobey yesterday.” Hutch waved his hand at his partner. “Look at you! Have you taken a good look at yourself in the mirror lately?”

“If you gotta problem with something, buddy-boy, you better spit it out soon, ’cause I’m not gonna sit here and let you ream me like this.”

Turning forward to look out the front window, Hutch sighed. “Starsky I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

“Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of it then,” the other interrupted.

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, even though he was starting to get annoyed as well, Hutch continued. “I’m worried you’re going to make a fatal mistake on the street in the condition your in. I’m worried about you, Starsk.”

“Yeah, well maybe it’s you that’s bothering me.”

Startled, Hutch jerked his head to the left, offering Starsky a stunned, exposed look, then masked his emotions and turned his head to look out the passenger window, but not before Starsky had seen the hurt.

Wanting to take the words back, but too bullheaded to admit he’d gone too far, Starsky pulled the Torino back into traffic.

They drove silently for several minutes, the tension in the car thick like a quilt. One almost couldn’t breathe with the heaviness in the air.

Down street, a large industrial truck turned right and began driving toward them on the opposite side of the road.

Starsky’s eyes drifted shut and without warning the Torino started to pull left of center.

“STARSKY! WATCH IT!”

His eyes snapping open, Starsky turned to yell at Hutch for startling him. “Goddamn it Hutch…” as the oncoming truck bore down on the Torino.

“STARSKY! THE TRUCK!”

Whipping his head forward, Starsky yanked the wheel right as the truck blared its deep horn. He put the brakes on in the middle of the road, stopping traffic, his hands shaking at the near miss.

Sitting quietly amidst the piercing noise of horns from the vehicles behind them, the two detectives gathered their frayed nerves before Starsky had the presence of mind to pull the Torino to the side of the road.

“Okay.” He said quietly, staring out the front window.

Hutch shook his head to clear it. “Huh?”

“Okay, Hutch. I’ll go talk to Mitchell.”

“It’s for your own good, babe. For us.” Hutch wanted to make sure Starsky understood that no-one would think any less of him for seeing the department psychiatrist. Especially him. “I love you.” He leaned over and petted Starsky’s face with the back of his hand.

Closing his eyes and sighing, Starsky nodded briefly. “Yeah. I guess you were right. But that’s the only reason I’m going – for us. To find out why I’m having problems sleeping.”

“That’s what Mitchell will help you determine, babe.”

Putting the car in park, Starsky opened his door to get out. “You’re driving the rest of the day. I can’t take the chance of gettin’ us killed.”

*****

Once back at the precinct, Starsky made good on his promise and set up an appointment for the following day to see Dr. Mitchell, the department psychiatrist who was staffed onsite to help cops quickly if needed.

Hutch felt Starsky needed a good night of sleep without any distractions, so he forced his lover to go home alone. As hoped, Starsky finally got a good night’s rest, and though the circles under his eyes weren’t erased, there was more of a spring in Starsky’s step when he bounded through the double doors the next morning. Just knowing that Starsky got a good night’s rest and was going to talk to someone professional was enough to relax Hutch, and he let go his worrying during the workday.

The appointment with Dr. Mitchell was at 4:00, and Starsky had cleared it with Captain Dobey, who was heartily glad his curly haired detective was getting some help. Agreeing to meet Hutch back at Venice Place later that evening, Starsky trudged off to the other side of the building to meet with Dr. Mitchell, leaving Hutch to finish up their paperwork.

Hutch had made Starsky’s favorite meal and set up the table in the greenhouse. Just as he finished laying out the table, he heard the front door click shut. Stepping into the kitchen, he watched as Starsky hung up his spring jacket and took off his holster, hanging it on the closet doorknob. Hutch promised himself he wasn’t going to get into Starsky’s face about his appointment this afternoon with Dr. Mitchell, though he had to tell himself that over and over.

“Dinner ready?”

“Yeah, sure.” Hutch turned half-way and gestured toward the patio. “I set up the table outside if that’s okay with you.”

“Sounds good. Let me wash up.”

While Starsky got cleaned up, Hutch served up the meal. They ate in relative silence, Hutch still anxious to know how his meeting with Dr. Mitchell went. However, Starsky didn’t appear to be too upset, so he wasn’t worried…just curious. But Starsky didn’t seem to want to be forthcoming.

Finally, Hutch had to ask, it was driving him up a tree not knowing. “So, uh, how’d it go? Do you want to talk about it?”

Starsky pushed away his emptied plate and shrugged. “Okay. It was no big deal. I guess you could say I wasn’t very open.”

“Why not? What’d you talk about? That is, if you’re allowed to tell me?”

“If I can’t share with you, what’s the point.” He sighed. “I just told her I haven’t been sleeping and I was worried that I was gonna get my partner or someone else hurt.”

“Did you tell her about the dreams?”

Starsky stood up in frustration and started gathering the dishes. “I told you, Hutch, I don’t remember those dreams!” He stalked into the kitchen and set the dishes in the sink. Leaning down with both hands on the edge, he gathered himself. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s not your fault I’m a fucking nutcase.”

Pushing a glass of wine into Starsky’s hands, Hutch led him over to the couch and waited for Starsky to continue.

He didn’t have long to wait, as Starsky took a drink and continued. “Yeah, I told her I was having some dreams, but that I didn’t remember them. I told her I kept talking about someone I didn’t know and that I was speaking weird, just like you said.”

“What she say?”

“Mitchell suggested that someone place a taperecorder at my bedside and turn it on in case it happened again. She said it might help her to determine the problem.”

Mulling it over briefly, Hutch agreed that it might not be a bad idea. “So you’re going to go back, then?”

“I guess. We could try her idea. What d’ya think?”

“Wouldn’t hurt. Maybe if I played the tape for you, some of the dreams would come back.”

Starsky perked up. “Yeah? And then I’d remember and I wouldn’t have to go back to see Mitchell again.”

Shaking his head at his lover’s enthusiasm over the idea of not seeing the psychiatrist again, Hutch pulled him over for a deep kiss. “Don’t jump the gun. Let’s wait and see if the tape recorder idea works first.”

Breathing heavily, Starsky forgot Dr. Mitchell and any dreams. “How about dessert babe?”

“What did you have in mind?” Hutch asked primly.

Starsky just winked and nodded toward the sleeping alcove. “Something golden and delicious. Say, like a Blintz.” He leered as he licked his lips.

~*~

And David went into the wilderness of Engedi and established his household. He took another wife, and had more children, but no other love. He kept abreast of the wars in Israel and he prayed daily to the Lord, living as the Lord commanded.

Now the Philistines fought against Israel and fell hard upon Saul and his sons; and they slew Saul and his sons Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchishua. And it came to pass that a young man returned to the field and beheld the head of Saul.

Yet the Philistines were still wroth with David and unto the King of Israel. And it came to pass David’s two wives were taken captive. So he pursued the Philistines into Israel and overtook them.

The young man came out of the camp where Saul fell upon the earth and saw David. And David said to the young man, “How went the matter? I pray thee, tell me.” And he was answered, “The people have fled from battle, and many are fallen. Saul and Jonathan, his son, are dead also.”

Alarmed, David grabbed the man’s cloak, “How knowest thou that Saul and Jonathan be dead?” So the young man told him all he had seen. But David had to know. He had to see for himself. So he went into the field of battle to search out his love. When he came across the head of Saul on a pike, he knelt and wept. For the man may have tried to kill him, but he also treated David as a son, and because of Saul he was introduced to the greatest love of his life. Then he searched for that love, and when he found Jonathan he knelt beside his fallen lover. He took hold of his clothes and rent them, for as his cloth was torn, so was his heart.

And David lamented over Jonathan…

“Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be no rain upon you, nor fields of offerings; for there the shield of the might is vilely cast away. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the might, the bow of Jonathan turned not back. Jonathan was lovely and pleasant in his life and in his death we wilt not be divided; he was swifter than eagles, stronger than lions.

“How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan, my lover; very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of all women.”

David gathered the body of his beloved into his arms and wept. “All of Saul’s sons, gone?! Why would God punish Jonathan, the best of all Saul’s sons? “Oh, Jonathan…Jonathan...” he chanted, his heart hardening against his enemies at each breath of his beloved’s name. For now he had to revenge Jonathan’s death. His anger and grief grew greatly within him and gave him the strength needed to defeat the Philistines completely into submission. And then to take his rightful place as the head of Isreal and God’s witness on Earth.

“JONATH…..HUUUUTCH!” Starsky cried in anguish, waking his sleeping partner. His body trembled and was wracked by sobs. He was locked between the dreaming and the waking worlds.

“Above all. I love thee above all. Do not thou forget.” He whimpered into Hutch’s neck as his lover gathered him into strong arms.

“Starsk, it’s another dream. Come on, baby, everything’s okay.”

Starsky shook his head to indicate that everything was not okay. The sadness and grief that flooded his body and torched his soul was an all-consuming fire of pain. Physical, mental, and spiritual.

Soft, light kisses gentled his temple as Hutch continued to hold him and tried to get Starsky to talk. “What are you dreaming, babe? What’s bothering you?”

Shaking his head once more to clear it, Starsky remarked, “I felt like my life was ending, but I was still alive. Trapped somehow. It was a nightmare.”

“You mean like you were being smothered or buried alive? Like in your late night monster movies?”

“Not like that kind of nightmare. This was like something killed what made me…me, ya know?”

“No, not really. But Starsk, it’s just a dream. Remember that. It’s not real.”

Starsky’s dark blue eyes still reflected a deep seated fear as they tracked Hutch while he got out of bed to straighten the covers. Unreasonable fear…of what? Overwhelmed him again. Must not be fully awake yet. “Hutch? You…you aren’t going anywhere are you?”

The blond head rose to look up at his lover. “When, now?”

“No, it’s just…I got the feelin’ that these dreams are connected to you somehow.”

“Really?”

Hutch thought this was a good sign – that Starsky was opening up to him. He just knew it. He crawled back into bed and sat up against the headboard, letting Starsky rest his head on his abdomen for security and comfort.

“That’s good that you’re remembering some substance of the dreams. But, Starsk, I can’t promise you what I don’t know about the future. And if anyone should know that, it would be you. I don’t plan on going anywhere, however. Not for a long time, and certainly not without you.” He petted and soothed Starsky’s ruffled curls.

“How can you be so sure, Hutch? Especially in our jobs.” Starsky swung his right arm over his lover’s torso and squeezed. “I’m afraid to lose you.”

Hutch used his finger to raise Starsky’s chin. “Hey, maybe that’s what these dreams are all about.”

“You think?” The fear lifted slightly.

“Maybe. Sounds plausible. You should talk to Dr. Mitchell about it.”

“You mean you still want me to go see her?”

“Absolutely, Starsk. This isn’t going to go away. You need to talk to someone who knows how to interpret dreams and stuff.”

“I thought you didn’t get into psycho-babble bull.”

“The mind is a vast area of knowledge that we know so little about, Starsky. There’s so many possibilities to tap into. Like with Collandra.”

“If you say so.” Starsky said doubtfully. “I still think it’s a waste of time.” He couldn’t get away from the terror that permeated his mind and soul. It was a living thing inside him.

Being afraid to go back to sleep, Starsky got up, retrieved a book, and settled in bed to read; while Hutch finished the crossword puzzle he kept in the nightstand, both eventually falling asleep where they lay.

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 6

2008-04-21T11:25:00.004-04:00

For the next several days the panic that infused Starsky’s dreams began to map over into his waking world. An unreasonable fear of losing Hutch made him hover even closer to his partner, to the point he was getting on the blond’s nerves. If Hutch had to leave the room, the dark blue eyes would set upon the doorway until they lit on Hutch once more. At first Hutch referred to Starsky as his puppy, but by the end of the third day, with no deviation in his behavior, Starsky could tell he was getting on Hutch’s last nerve.

He promised himself he would curb the hovering behavior, but the next morning when he walked back into the squadroom after taking a quick trip to the men’s room, Starsky was initially alarmed upon not seeing his partner. His eyes tracked the room in time with his heartbeat and just as he was about to ask another officer Hutch’s whereabouts, Dobey stepped out to the squadroom and requested Starsky’s presence in his office.

“Where’s Hutch?” He inquired of his partner.

“Just get in here Starsky.” The captain motioned with a beefy hand that grasped a manila folder.

Upon entering, Starsky saw his partner sitting at one of the chairs opposite Dobey’s desk. He breathed an audible sigh of relief, and wasn’t surprised to see Hutch’s corresponding eye roll and deep frown at the sound.

Stepping behind his desk, Dobey tapped the folder on its dark wooden top. “Since you’ve got most of your current cases wrapped up or at the DA’s office, I’m handing this one over to you.”

Hutch made a grab for the file, “New case?”

“Jerome Clark, suspected armed robber. He’s got a history of muggings and B & E’s with escalating violence, graduated to armed robbery and now with a 245 thrown in. He’s a user.”

Hutch looked up from the file. “So it’s a simple locate and retrieve?”

“Nothing’s ever simple, Hutchinson. You should know that. Find him! Get this guy off the streets.”

Both men shrugged their shoulders. It was better than doing desk duty or finishing older reports. “Okay, Cap. Whatever you say.”

Dobey pointed his pencil at his curly-haired detective and then toward the door to the squadroom. “Damn right whatever I say, Starsky! Now get your butt out there and find this guy before he busts into another place and this time takes someone out.”

“Yessir, Captain, sir.” Starsky saluted, then turned to his seated partner. “Well, partner, what’d ya say? Let’s get the ball rolling.”

As they arrived at the police garage, Hutch slapped the file into Starsky’s hands. “You can familiarize yourself with this, I’ll drive.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Starsky waved his hands at his partner. “Just don’t do that to me again.”

Confused, Hutch asked “What?”

“Disappear without me knowing where you went.” He mumbled as he got into the LTD.

“Starsky, stop! Right here, right now.” Hutch turned to face him after turning the car over, before putting it in drive. “You’re getting all hung up. All you can think about is this fear, and that doesn’t bode well for the work we’ve got to do. You’re still having problems sleeping and you refuse to acknowledge it. Now, unless you can give me a good reason not to go back to Dobey and have him ground you until you get your head screwed back on, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and back off.”

“I’m sorry Hutch. I know it’s unreasonable, but I can’t help it.” He couldn’t deny what Hutch was saying, and since he knew Dobey’d bench him in a second if their Captain was aware that Starsky’s tank was running on empty, he sat and sulked in the corner of the passenger’s seat. He knew something was bothering him, but he’d be damned if he knew exactly what it was. And he refused to acknowledge aloud that it could be his dreams and sleep patterns that left him with a sense of foreboding. His sixth sense was telling him it had something to do with Hutch; but he didn’t want to acknowledge that the fear and anguish he felt each time he awoke next to Hutch might have something to do with either their relationship or with Hutch’s safety.

If he dwelled on it too much, he was afraid he might go crazy. He was already driving his partner nuts, and if he kept it up, he was sure to lose Hutch. Besides, analyzing stuff was Hutch’s forte. He prayed that Dr. Mitchell would be able to come up with something to figure out what was going on with him. She had prescribed some sleeping medication, but he was reluctant to take it. Of course, his partner didn’t know about the sleeping pills, and if he did, Hutch would insist on him taking it. But then he’d be too drugged up to show Hutch how much he loved him.

After another two days of restless nights and waking dreams, Starsky finally was able to convince Hutch to let him drive. He was tired of dealing with the LTD and its cranky ways. Sometimes it was so simple to pull the wool over Hutch’s head. All Starsky had to do was come in contact with cold water every morning, as well as several cups of the strong coffee that only the local 7-11 would sell.

They had nothing more strenuous planned than cruising the streets they normally patrolled, watching for recent parolees and on-the lam criminals. Starsky convinced both himself and his partner that it would be a quiet day, with little required in the way of action. So far the whereabouts of one Jerome Clark, age 23, was still undiscovered, but the two detectives had their best snitches out digging for information, and anticipated a sighting soon.

Much sooner than they could have predicted, Millie announced one over the police radio that afternoon.

“Zebra Three, acknowledge 211 in progress with a possible 245 at 315 Front, cross street 3rd. Possible sighting of suspect Jeremy Clark at location. Code 2.”

“Zebra Three responding.” Hutch replaced the mike while Starsky went into pursuit mode.

Driving full out, reckless from the lack of sleep, Starsky was a man on a mission to snare their suspect. Hutch pulled the leather belt around his waist and clicked the lock shut as he slapped on the silent Mars light. Arriving at Ernie’s Spirits and Victuals liquor shop, they parked one block west and made their way to the crime scene on foot.

“Fancy name for a corner store, eh, Starsk?” Hutch tried to infuse some levity into his partner’s demeanor. He wasn’t stupid enough to let his partner go into a scene with a hype on a downside, when Starsky wasn’t running on all cylinders.

Through the window they could see Jerome Clark, unmasked, holding a clerk and the store owner at bay; waving a gun between the two, his arm and hand shaking and his temperament jumpy. Clark jumped in front of the owner and pistol-whipped him upside the head. The older man went straight down, a large bruise and lump already raised on the side of his head before he even hit the linoleum floor.

Waving his Beretta, Starsky motioned his partner behind the yellow brick building. “Back, Hutch. He’s going out the back.” Both men jumped in said direction simultaneously, Hutch’s longer and more powerful legs getting him to the scene first.

Behind the store was a small asphalt court surrounded by two four-story buildings on the Front Street side, a two-story building, and a rundown multilevel apartment building opposite the alleyway. A wooden ledge jutted out from the shorter building, partially blocking the only other way out of the back court. It was beside the entryway that Starsky and Hutch had come through. Someone had set several large metal garbage bins in the small space the ledge, and that was what Clark was attempting to climb around to escape the detective now bearing down on him.

“Hold it! Police!” Hutch shouted at the fleeing figure. “Starsk, cover me!” He called back to his partner, not realizing that Starsky wasn’t just behind him.

Starsky came around the corner and ran smack dab into the metal fire escape of 315 Front, which was placed right at the edge of the back of the building; the collision stunned him and forced him down on his buttocks, his gun clattering out of reach.

Hutch fired a warning shot into the air, startling Clark, who looked behind him briefly then continued to climb on top of one of the metal garbage bins. Seeing no other way, Hutch took aim and fired, hitting the suspect in the right hand and knocking his gun away. Clark collapsed in pain on the top of the bin, and Hutch holstered his gun. He pulled the man to the ground, face down, with this bleeding right hand beneath him. Leaning over, Hutch placed his right knee on the man’s back to hold him still while he held Jerome’s right hand behind him at waist level, and reached behind for the handcuffs he kept in his waistband.

Looking over his shoulder at his prone partner, Hutch called out, “Starsk, you okay?”

Shaking the swirling birds away, Starsky leaned up on his hands to see Hutch had captured their suspect and was now cuffing him. “Yeah. I’m fine. Somebody put a damn fire escape in my way.”

Not able to watch their suspect while his head was turned to make sure Starsky was okay, Hutch didn’t notice Clark reach with his left hand and fingers into his back waistband and pull out a knife. He awkwardly twisted his wrist and plunged the weapon into the left thigh of the cop holding him down. A stream of blood spurted out of Hutch’s thigh as Clark’s knife plunged into Hutch’s thigh. Shock and sudden blood loss caused him to collapse onto Clark’s back, trapping the perpetrator.

At first Starsky didn’t see Clark’s motion or the blood spurting down Hutch’s, but he did notice his partner collapsing headfirst onto the dusty asphalt and equally grungy perp. “Hutch? You okay? You need my help?” In response, all Starsky heard was a loud groan from Hutch and a grunt from Clark. “I’m coming babe.”

His own pain and wooziness forgotten, Starksy hopped up and rushed over to his partner. He rolled the larger man off Clark, and immediately noticed the continuous stream of blood gushing out of Hutch’s leg in time with each pulsing beat of his heart.

Starsky’s own heart jumped in panic as he finished cuffing the bleeding and injured hand of Jerome Clark. Not wanting to remove the knife from Hutch’s leg and possibly cause more injury, he yanked off his outer shirt and wrapped it carefully around the knife to keep it stable. He didn’t want to, but Starsky left his partner lying where he was, dragging Clark clear of his prone partner to go call for two ambulances and a black and white.

Running back to Hutch, he noted his partner had passed out, probably from a combination of blood loss and pain. Seeing him lying on his side, knife sticking through his leg, a large swath of blood covering his jeans and staining the asphalt beneath him, Starsky’s ears began ringing. The sound blocked out the moans of pain from their cuffed suspect, and he fell to his knees at Hutch’s head.

Starsky gathered the upper body of his beloved into his arms and wept. ”Jonathan…Jonathan…” he chanted, his heart hardening against his enemy at each breath of his lover’s name.

“Silence!” He yelled at the groaning prisoner. “My prince is injured and thou wilst pay for the wrong you have done unto him.” He rocked Hutch in his arms, the strength and warmth of his body assuring Starsky that his partner was still with him. “Above all. I love thee above all.”

At the unnatural tone and words of Starsky’s voice, Clark fell silent and waited for a more lucid person to arrive and help him.

The black and white arrived first and one of the officers took care of cordoning off the store and gathering information while giving some first-aid to the store owner.

Behind the store, the ambulance attendants found one injured man cuffed and laying on his stomach with an obvious gunshot wound through the hand, and a second, more seriously injured officer wrapped in his partner’s arms with a knife wound to the leg. One of the paramedics immediately took possession of the cuffed man and began treating his wound, while the other called into the base hospital to begin treatment for the bleeding, injured detective.

Hutch awoke from his unconscious state to find Starsky rocking him, chanting “Jonathan, Jonathan,” in a whispered tone; the ghostly voice reciting over and over. He was worried about his partner’s frame of mind, and tried to tell the attendants through the oxygen mask to take care of Starsky, before everything swam and he closed his eyes against the storm. He needn’t be concerned, as the paramedics were also exchanging glances of worry over the state of the non-injured officer.

~*~

Waking up early the next morning after surgery to repair his artery and the muscles in his left thigh, Hutch was not surprised to find his partner sitting in the chair next to his hospital bed.

Starsky was sitting bent over with his hands in his face. It appeared to Hutch that he hadn’t slept all night.

“Starsk?” His voice was a raspy whisper.

The curled head came up and bleary, red rimmed eyes looked at him. “Hutch? You’re awake?”

In response, Hutch poked his tongue out to wet his dry lips. “Thirsty. Can I have...”

Breaking off Hutch’s sentence, Starsky eagerly guessed Hutch’s need. “You can have some ice chips. Hold on. I’ll be right back.” Showing more energy than he actually had, Starsky jumped out of the chair, pushing it backwards and making a scraping noise on the floor tiles.

While he was gone, Hutch thought about his partner’s appearance, which hadn’t gone unnoticed. Dark circles around the eyes, rumpled clothing, tangled hair, and a gray palor were all Hutch needed to know Starsky’s frame of mind.

A nurse came in just ahead of Starsky returning and took Hutch’s vitals and gave him a shot of painkiller without asking the patient if he needed it. She explained that he was to be on pain medication for at least the next 24 hours whether he wanted it or not, for healing purposes.

“Hutch let the nurse do her job.” Starsky admonished while pushing spoonfuls of ice through the pale lips. “You lost a lot of blood and need to rest. Can’t have you setting back on me.”

Hutch was bewildered and looked down, noticing an IV of blood and one of saline meant to replace the lost fluids in his body. Swallowing the melted ice, he asked Starsky what had happened.

“Clark didn’t take too kindly to your shooting him in the hand. He stabbed you in the leg with a knife. Unfortunately he hit a major artery and you bled like a stuck pig.”

“Oh.” Hutch shut his eyes and drifted along with the pain medication. “You okay?”

He felt Starsky’s hand soothe the hair back from his forehead. “Shh…I’m fine. You just rest. Dobey took me off the roster for a couple of days, so I’m gonna be here when you need me.” He continued to pet and stroke the soft, fine hair as Hutch fell asleep. As he faded off with a soft sigh he sensed his lover leaning down and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad your safe, baby. Love you.”

Hutch didn’t wake again until just before dinner. By then the blood IV had been removed, Hutch having regained the volume he had lost. Starsky was still by his side, but now was asleep in the chair next to the bed. Hutch moved his hand onto the messy curls and patted them, remembering Starsky’s promise to stay with him. His partner needed his sleep, so Hutch tried not to wake him each time he shifted his body, but it was hard not to make grunts of pain each time he moved his injured thigh.

A short time later an orderly brought his dinner, and the jostling of the tray table woke Starsky. Lifting his head and rubbing his eyes, he groaned away the stiffness in his back.

“Ugh, oh man. Hutch? You awake again?” Seeing the dinner on his table, Starsky went to the foot of the bed, raised it, and moved the tray into a better position for his partner to reach. “What we got here?” He lifted the cover and grimaced. “Ewww…Liver and onions and broccoli. Right up your alley.”

After eating most of his dinner, including the vanilla pudding since he was really hungry, Hutch pushed away the tray table and leaned backward onto the raised bed. “Starsky, what happened?” Repeating his earlier question.

Worried that Hutch didn’t remember him explaining it from that morning, Starsky retold the story of how Hutch had gotten injured.

Shaking his head back and forth Hutch re-asked the question. “No, what happened with you?” He wasn’t sure he believed Starsky’s bullshit about Dobey taking one curly-headed detective off the roster to care for him. A day, yes, but Dobey wasn’t the over-protective type. He needed as many good men on the job as he could get.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You did it again, buddy. At the scene you called out ‘Jonathan.’ Only this time you were calling me that. I wasn’t so out of it that I didn’t hear what was going on around me.” Even in a hospital bed, Hutch’s forefinger made an impression.

Starsky put his head down. “I really don’t know Hutch. All I remember is seeing you on the ground, bleeding, with a knife in your leg. Next thing I remember, I’m in a squad car on the way to the hospital.”

“Does Dobey know?”

“I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. He couldn’t lie to Hutch. “The paramedics told Dobey I kept chanting something and wouldn’t respond to them, so Dobey put me on leave until I get my shit together.” He looked up and tried to smile. “Look at the bright side. I’ll be able to be at your beck and call while you’re laid up.”

They’d have time to discuss that later; there was no way Hutch was going to be mother-henned by his partner, nor was he going to be cooped up. Right now Starsky was more important. “Don’t try to cover Starsk. This is getting serious now. It’s affecting our job.”

“I know. I’m going to tell Doc Mitchell everything. I’m worried, too. If I had forgotten to finish cuffing Clark, he could’ve gotten away or hurt you worse.” For Starsky to admit he was worried about himself was saying a lot.

“I want to go with you to your next visit.”

“It’s tomorrow Hutch. I don’t think you’ll be outta here for a few days yet.”

“Shit, are you sure I can’t get out tomorrow?” Hutch hated to admit he was anything but fine, and staying in the hospital was not one of his favorite pastimes.

“If you really want to go with me–” the darker man started.

“I think I need to. Your dreams are now affecting us both personally and professionally.” Hutch broke in.

“I can call Mitchell tomorrow and cancel. Reschedule for the following week when you can get around better, and tell her it’s important that you come with me.”

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 7

2008-04-21T11:09:00.003-04:00

Hutch spent four days in the hospital, was released to his partner’s care, and given crutches with strict orders to stay off the leg for another week, and to call his doctor if any seepage appeared. They also reiterated to him that he should take advantage of the pain medicine when needed in order for him to heal better and faster.

Since both men were off while Hutch healed, Starsky stayed at Hutch’s place and ran back and forth between his apartment and Venice Place. He also handled the chores: watering the plants, shopping, cleaning, all while keeping Hutch comfortable and busy with books, crossword puzzles, and the like. Keeping busy kept Starsky’s mind off his worrisome dreams.

Doctor Mitchell rescheduled Starsky’s next appointment for the following Monday and allowed him to bring Hutch along once Starsky gave her a brief rundown of what went down during Jerome Clark’s capture. Hutch took a chair by the door, while Starsky sat across from Doctor Mitchell.

Turning on her recorder, Dr. Mitchell got oral permission for Hutch’s presence. “I understand you’d like your partner, Sgt. Ken Hutchinson to be present today, correct?”

“Yes, but…” Starsky turned around and exchanged glances with Hutch. “We’d like assurances that anything that is said is, um, kept between us.”

“As mentioned previously, unless we discuss something that can be of potential harm to your partner or other officers, anything we talk about comes under the patient/doctor confidentiality clause.”

Rubbing his hand on his thighs, Starsky nodded. “Okay. Let’s get started then.”

“Relax, Detective Starsky. We’re all here to help you deal with this.” Dr. Mitchell attempted to put her patient at ease. “Now, David, tell me how things have been going since we talked last? You mentioned that these dreams are starting to interfere with your job performance, correct?”

“Yep. That’s part of the reason I want Hutch here.”

“You mentioned that you’ve had more dreams. Do you remember any of them?”

“More like nightmares.” Starsky grumbled.

“Why do you call them nightmares, David?” Dr. Mitchell folded her hands and looked at him intently, but with compassion.

“Doctor Mitchell, perhaps you should listen to this.” Interrupted Hutch from the corner. “I did as you suggested and taped a few of David’s dreams.” He held out a cassette tape that Starsky passed to the doctor.

The doctor accepted the tape and asked Starsky if it was okay for him to play it. Her patient looked at the innocuous item, gulped audibly, then nodded, worried that whatever was on it might prove damaging to his relationship with Hutch, not to mention his job.

“JONATH…..HUUUUTCH!” The sound of Starsky crying in anguish was disturbing to his partner as Hutch sat reliving the moment again. He shuddered at the cry, noticing that Dr. Mitchell was also startled at the of distress Starsky’s cry.

“Above all. I love thee above all. Do not thou forget.” Then came the sound of a mattress creaking and covers rustling.

“David, it’s another dream. Come on, everything’s okay.” Hutch’s voice was obvious over the magnetic tape, but muffled. “What are you dreaming, babe? What’s bothering you?”

“I felt like my life was ending, but I was still alive. It was a nightmare.” Starsky remarked over the tape.

“You mean like you were being smothered or buried alive? Like in your late night monster movies?”

“Not like that kind of nightmare. This was like something killed what made me…me, ya
know?”

“No, not really. But Starsk, it’s just a dream. Remember that. It’s not real.”

After some indistinguishable sounds Starsky spoke again. “Hutch? You…you aren’t
going anywhere are you?”

“When, now?”

“No, it’s just…I got the feelin’ that these dreams are connected to you.”

A clicking sound was heard, as if someone had turned off the machine, followed by a
lengthy silence, then a softer click. Then came an incantation.

“Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be no rain upon you, nor fields of offerings; for there the shield of the might is vilely cast away. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the might, the bow of Jonathan turned not back. Jonathan was lovely and pleasant in his life and in his death we wilt not be divided; he was swifter than eagles, stronger than lions.

How are the might fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thy high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan, my lover; very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of all women."

Turning off the machine, Dr. Mitchell looked at both men in the eye. “Based on what I just heard can I assume that the two of you are in a homosexual relationship? With each other?”

Blond and dark brown heads nodded slowly, simultaneously.

“I’m not going to dwell on the dangers of this type of relationship in your job. I’m sure you’re aware of them. I feel in a quandary, because romantic relationships are frowned upon for working partners, yet I do realize we are under a ‘doctor/patient’ confidentiality clause.” She paused and sighed for effect while gathering her thoughts. “I would recommend that you at least inform your superior, but unless I hear of or see any danger arising from this situation, I’m going to keep counsel for now.”

“Thank you.” Hutch said with quiet meaning from his corner. He told himself there was no way they could say anything to Dobey.

She turned to Starsky, “Now David, do you or have you ever known a Jonathan?”

Shaking his head negatively, Starsky denied the question for the umpteenth time.

“Can you answer the question? I’m afraid my tape recorder doesn’t pick up gestures.” Dr. Mitchell smiled soothingly.

“No. I don’t think I ever knew a Jonathan, even back home in New York.”

“And this ‘Jonathan’ keeps reappearing in your dreams?”

“Yeah. But I swear Hutch’s the only guy in my life. Ever. That I love like that.” He clarified.

“Do you always use archaic speech patterns? In these dreams?”

“Huh?”

“The way you spoke, Starsk, on the tape. The older terms and phrases.”

“I guess Hutch would know more than me about that. I don’t really remember much from them.”

Sitting back in her chair, Doctor Mitchell thought for a moment. “I think you might be right David. About these dreams, or nightmares, having some sort of connection with Hutch’s and your relationship.”

‘Uh, oh,’ thought Starsky. ‘Here comes the part where she tells us that our love for each other is because of some negative psychobabble conflict; and that we shouldn’t be together.’ He braced himself.

“Have you ever heard of past-life regression?”

That was not the reaction or response Starsky expected. “Huh? Past life? Like reincarnation stuff?”

“Yes, but we don’t like to use that term.” She looked over to Hutch. “Detective Hutchinson, have you?”

“I know the idea became popular in the ‘50s with the Virginia Tighe case, and has grown somewhat in paranormal studies and in the remaining hippie culture.”

“Yes. But it’s also becoming a serious study in the psychiatric field also.”

Starsky broke in, waving his hands back and forth between him and Hutch as he turned halfway around in his chair, “But what does this have to do with me? Or us?”

“Detective Starsky, the terminology you used in your dream sequences and the verse you spoke leads me to believe you might be reliving a past life of your relationship with Detective Hutchinson in your dreams. Your partner might even have played a part in this past life.”

Starsky was doubtful, “Oh, come on. You don’t really subscribe to that stuff do you?” While he believed in many mystical things – the existence of Big Foot, the reality of UFOs – one thing Starsky always had a hard time coming to grips with were any ideas that touched on the paranormal and the mind.

“I’ve studied it in school briefly, and while I’ve never treated anyone with the condition, you do have the classic symptoms.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Dreams, inability to sleep, inability to distance the dream’s emotions from real life, images that overlap while you’re awake, and the verbiage and terminology you use.”

“I wonder if you’d consider hypnotherapy to try to release these dreams and emotions. While I’m not trained in past life regression therapy, I can recommend someone with the proper qualifications.”

Starsky addressed his partner, “Hutch? What do you think? You’re the one who believes in this kinda stuff.”

“I think it’s worth a shot, Starsk. Especially if it helps you.”

Turning back to the doctor Starsky reluctantly agreed.

“Okay, let me contact my colleague and I’ll have my secretary call you later today with an appointment. It will probably be held at his office, if that’s okay.”

Starsky shrugged his shoulders. “Can Hutch come?”

“I would recommend it. Depending on your results, we might want to try to hypnotize him also.” She wrote something down on her notepad. “In the meantime, I recommend you be reassigned to desk duty until we get this resolved.” Coughing lightly, the department psychiatrist also recommended that they distance themselves from each other for awhile. “Take a break in other words.”

“Can’t do that Doc. Hutch needs me.”

“Starsky. I’m not an invalid. I can stay by myself.”

“Yeah, and who’s gonna get your stuff for you, and help you with your bath, and all that other stuff I’ve been doing?” He looked at the doctor. “We’ll work something out Doc. Thanks.” And he rose to help his partner to his feet and to the car.

NS: David and his Jonathan-Part 8

2008-04-21T10:53:00.002-04:00

Doctor Mitchell set up an appointment for Starsky with Dr. Les MacGruder, a hypnotherapist who had experience not only in past-life regression, but also memory retrieval therapy.

Looking like any other psychiatric office with dark paneling, masculine colors, and the staple bookshelf, Dr. MacGruder sat down at a plain table with a simple white tapered candle in the middle. He offered the chair opposite him to Starsky while Hutch sat behind his partner in a leather wing chair.

After introductions and a brief rundown of what brought them to Dr. MacGruder’s office, Dr. Mitchell and Hutch sat behind Starsky so as to not distract either man.

“I thought Dr. Mitchell would’ve mentioned all this to you at the time she set up the appointment.” Hutch inquired as he took his seat, not sure now of his confidence in the abilities of the either professional.

“Yes, she did. But I wanted to see upfront if Mr. Starsky–”

“Dave, please.” Starsky interrupted.

He nodded an acknowledgement of Starsky’s request. “Okay, if Dave, was going to be upfront and honest from the beginning. Trust is very important in the art of hypnotizing.” He looked around the small office. “Shall we begin now?”

“Mr. Starsky, I would like your permission to tape our conversation as Dr. Mitchell did with your sessions together.”

Starsky nodded, knowing this was normal procedure, then belatedly remembered to add a verbal agreement.

After turning on the machine that sat unobtrusively by his elbow, Dr. MacGruder began the process of hypnotism. “Okay, first I’d like you to close your eyes and take several deep breaths.”

Shaking his shoulders to loosen them, Starsky complied.

“Now starting at your toes and continuing with each muscle upward, clench and unclench them twice, making them totally relax the second time you unclench the muscle.”

This process took approximately ten minutes, and while Starsky was doing this, Dr. MacGruder turned on a soundtrack overhead of waves breaking, and lit the white tapered candle.

“Now David, I want you to open your eyes slowly and look into the flame.”

“Keep looking at the flame, and don’t blink. Breathe slowly in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Staring at the flame and breathing slowly, Starsky began to feel slightly lightheaded, but not enough to pass out.

“Keep the image of the flame in your mind, and close your eyes.” The therapist told him. “Do you still see the flame?” Languidly Starsky nodded. “Okay, visualize a stairway before you. You’re at the top step and the flame is still before you.”

“I want you to walk down the first step and continue to follow the flame downwards. As you go down the stairway, you’re going back…back to another time…back to another person. I want you to distance yourself emotionally from anything you see. You’re still David Starsky and you’ll be able to hear and answer me.”

“Tell me what you see when you get to the bottom of the stairs.”

A few more minutes passed before Starsky let out a deep breath and responded in a husky voice, “There’s a doorway, the flame is filling most of it.”

“Is the door opened or closed?”

“Closed. I think.”

“Okay, before you open the door and go through it, if you need to come home, at any time I want you to say the word ‘ball.”

The curly head nodded once in acknowledgment.

“Good. You can walk through the flame and open the door now, David. It won’t hurt you.” Dr. MacGruder waited another minute before he continued. “What do you see?”

“Desert. It’s warm, dry. There’re some tents and flags to the right and farther away.”

“Walk toward the tents David. Can you tell what’s happening?”

“There’re men dressed for battle around a large tent and several guards in front of it holding long spears. Some of the men are walking toward me.”

“Describe them.”

“They’re kinda short. Long brown hair to their shoulders. Everything’s dirty and dusty. They’re wearing leather skirts, hide vests with no shirts underneath, and bows strapped to their backs. On their feet are some kind of open-footed leather sandals with hide or cloth straps that crisscross up to their knees. On their heads are metal helmets that kinda look like half a football and come down over their ears. Some of them are bloody and have scratches or other injuries.”

This was a much better description that the doctor had hoped for. “Excellent. You said they were approaching you. Do they say anything?”

“Yes. One is telling me that the Israeli battle against the Philistines has been lost. They drop to their knees and offer me their allegiance. They’re talking in a different language, but I can understand them somehow.” Starsky’s face showed awe. Behind him, Hutch’s eyes started to go round with dawning understanding.

“What happens next?”

“I put my hands on their shoulders and walk toward the tent.” Starsky’s face shows visible shock before he speaks again. “There’s a man’s head on a post.”

“Can you describe him?”

“He’s older, maybe 50. He’s wearing a helmet too, bronze maybe, with gold; and he’s got gray hair in Shirley Temple-like curls, even his beard.” Starsky’s voice fades a little and gets sad. “I know him. He was my adopted father, my king. He loved me, but he feared me.”

“David, are you okay?” Dr. MacGruder broke in as he noticed Starsky’s forehead beginning to bead with sweat.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s so sad. He could’ve had everything, but was jealous – of me!” He sounded incredulous.

Dr. MacGruder continued, seeing no other outward distress in his patient. “What happens next?”

“I’m walking toward some big hills. Or dunes, I think.” Beneath his closed lids, Starsky’s eyes were squinting, as if looking at a distance or towards sunlight. “There’s men lying everywhere. Blood and broken arrows and spears. A battle, this is a battlefield.” He said in dawning understanding.

All of a sudden Starsky took a gasp of breath and jerked backward in his chair. “JONATHAN!” His breathing got faster, as if he had just run a race, and more sweat began to bead from his pores.

“David. Stay with me. Who is Jonathan? What happened to him?”

“My brother, my soul mate…He’s lying here in this battlefield. He’s all bloody and his brown eyes are staring at me, but he can’t see me.” Starsky began to tear up and shake his head back and forth. “No, no, no.” He chants.

“David. Distance yourself. This is not really happening, remember.”

But Starsky was on a single minded course and didn’t hear the therapist. He lamented….

More than a brother to me, Jonathan,
One in soul with me...
How could I have taken such evil advice
And not stood by your side in battle?
How gladly would I die
And be buried with you!
Since love may do nothing greater than this,
And since to live after you
Is to die forever:
Half a soul
Is not enough to live.
Then - at the moment
of final agony -
I should have rendered
Either of friendship's dues:
To share the triumph
Or suffer the defeat;
Either to rescue you
Or to fall with you,
Shedding for you that life
Which you so often saved,
So that even death would join
Rather than part us.
I can still my lute,
But not my sobs and tears:
A heart too is shattered
By the plucking of stricken hands,
The hoarse sobbing of voices.**

Dr. MacGruder tried to intercede. “David! Concentrate! Listen to my voice. Can you hear me?”

A slight nod once.

“I want you to look at the sun David. Look at the sun and watch it turn into a flame.”

His crying slowly subsided, but the sorrow was still evident in the hypnotized detective’s demeanor.

“Do you see the flame?”

“Yes.”

“Now walk toward the flame. Just beneath it you will find some steps. Walk up them - following the flame - toward the sound of my voice.”

Starsky began to relax, but his face still showed some lingering anguish and fear.

“Take a deep breath when you get to the top of the stairs and blow out the flame.”

Pursing his lips together, Starsky exhaled a puff of air, which blew out both the imaginary and real flame.

“Open your eyes now, David.”

By this time Hutch was sitting forward in his chair with his hands clasped in his lap. The sound of waves crashing from the ceiling speaker seemed louder to Hutch.

Starsky opened his eyes. Their dark blue was even darker with glistening tears and sorrow.

Dr. MacGruder looked intently into his eye. “Do you remember anything?”

“Just the same feeling of loss I always feel when I wake up. But…” He looked around for Hutch, slightly disoriented.

“But what?” Dr. MacGruder prodded gently.

The detective turned around in his seat and pointed to his partner. “Hutch was there, I think. He was on the ground. Covered with blood.” Starsky seemed confused, and his voice reflected it. “But it wasn’t him.”

Hutch’s face drained of any remaining color. “Maybe he’s overlapping events from the other week when I was injured?”

Dr. MacGruder sat back and put a finger on his chin. “Could be. But in my professional opinion, you were reliving an experience from a past life, possibly as King David.”

“King David? The Bible’s King David?” Starsky fell back and began shaking his head. “No way. Can’t be.”

“Why can’t it be, Detective?” The doctor asked. “Don’t you believe our souls can travel or experience other times and lives and then be reborn?”

“I don’t know. It’s not really my cup of tea. It’s sounds kind of brazen to me to assume that I was King David. Besides, my ma – not to mention her Rabbi – would have my hide if I claimed to be King David in another life. The only reason I can pinpoint this is because I’ve studied Jewish history and tradition.” Starsky shook his head picturing his mother smacking him upside and calling him ‘cheeky’.

The other man chuckled. “There’s no need to tell her.” He looked over Starsky’s shoulder at Hutch. “How do you feel about this, Detective Hutchinson?”

Blinking rapidly, Hutch sputtered out, “I don’t…I guess I believe in the possibilities, but I…I never thought…Starsky? King David?”

“Why not?”

“And do his dreams signify that, uh I was, uh King’s Saul’s son Jonathan? Is that why these dreams and feelings he’s been having map over so vividly in real life?”

“Who’s to say that what Dave is dreaming isn’t also real life? I prefer the term, ‘current day’. But to answer your question: Possibly. If you are a believer in reincarnation – as I am – then we believe that many soul mates have a tendency to find each other throughout time and history. Sometimes their lives meet but don’t touch; sometimes they have such a profound impact on each other that time cannot simply erase those emotions. Such as you two do today, and possibly did as King David and Prince Jonathan – if those were your personas. And judging by what Dr. Mitchell told me about your partner’s reaction to your stabbing the other week, Detective Starsky has this lingering fear of you leaving him in some form or another.”

“So what do we do with this information now?” Hutch asked. Starsky was obviously still stunned over the therapist’s conclusion of his dreams; Hutch didn’t think he’d twitched a muscle in the intervening minutes.

Looking and nodding at the man across from him, Dr. MacGruder suggested that David continue with some therapy, perhaps joint counseling, until his deep seated fear could be overcome. “In the meantime, unless he has problems or issues on the job, he should be okay for desk duty. I would suggest street duty wait until we’ve had a chance to talk a few more times.”

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 9

2008-04-21T09:57:00.003-04:00

Captain Dobey accepted the request for Starsky’s temporary reassignment to desk duty without comment or question. He knew something was bothering the curly-haired man, consequently affecting his job performance, and had been considering grounding him himself. However he was pleased that Starsky took it upon himself to get help without having to be forced to. And since Hutch would still be on leave for a week or so, it made for less office headaches trying to partner Starsky with someone who couldn’t deal with his brand of police work.

Taking one session a week with Dr. MacGruder, Starsky appeared to be making progress. The dreams seemed to have subsided, though the fear of losing Hutch did not go away quite so easily.

Coming home from a therapy session several weeks later, Starsky was greeted by a tired Hutch lying on the living room couch. “Hey, Starsk. What’cha want for dinner?”

All he could see of his partner was the top of a blond head lying on the arm of the couch. Looking over at the clock on the bookshelf, the red numbers told him it was 6:45. Starsky wondered what was up with his partner. Hutch always had dinner ready, or at least started, on evenings that Starsky had therapy. “Hey, ya lazy lug,” he said, taking a light, friendly swing at the top of the head as he walked by, “ain’t it a little late to be starting dinner?”

At the light swat, Hutch’s shoulders came up in a cringe and he brought his right hand up to hold his head. “Ow.”

“I didn’t hit you that hard. Quit bein’ a baby.”

“I’ll get it ready. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.” Hutch asked again. As he raised his head to get off the couch, Starsky noted the white band on his head, just above his left eye and across his temple, as well as the stark bruise around his eye and left cheekbone.

Dropping his gun and holster on the armchair, Starsky rushed behind his partner as he walked to the kitchen. “Shit! What the hell happened?”

Rubbing his head lightly without turning around, Hutch answered, “It’s nothing Starsk. Not even a concussion, just some bruising and a bad cut. Not even any stitches.”

“So what the hell happened?” he asked again. “Did Dobey send ya out without me? What the hell was he thinking? You’re still supposed to be on desk duty.”

“I fell, Starsky.” Hutch sighed, hating to admit to being clumsy. “Down the stairs at the precinct on my way out. That’s all – no big deal.”

Starsky put his hands on Hutch’s shoulders and turned him around, looking deeply into the bright eyes before him. “You fell? That’s it? He reached up and petted some loose strands on Hutch’s forehead that fell around the white bandage. “You didn’t pass out or anything, right?”

Grasping Starsky’s hand by the wrist, Hutch pulled it down and growled, “Starsky! I’m o-kay. I’ve got one hell of a headache, and you’re making it worse.”

“I just worry about ya.” Starsky lowered his head to Hutch’s chest.

Pulling his love closer, Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky’s waist. “I know you do, and I can’t tell you to stop worrying, that’d be calling the kettle black.” The difference between Starsky’s reaction to this minor injury compared to the one of a few weeks ago, was noticeable. “I think you’re getting better at it though,” he added for some levity.

“Yeah. Doc MacGruder’s been real good. Helping me to face that all we can do is deal with what’s in front of us. Stop worrying about ‘what ifs’ that may never happen. We’ve also been talking about past stuff, like the Plague. Says maybe I never dealt properly with those things then, and they’ve been building up all this time.”

“Not a bad idea. Dr. Mitchell did the same with me during and after Gunther.”

“He thinks that maybe that’s why all this started. Plus, the talk about taking new jobs on the force, was a dam. Like a jar of water that kept flooding and had no where to go but pour out somehow.”

Hutch nodded his head. “I did wonder about that. Even with all you’ve been through, I’m still glad it wasn’t over some other lover.”

“Never, Blintz.” Starsky guffawed and elbowed Hutch lightly in the upper forearm.

Since his lover wasn’t feeling up to par, Starsky offered to make dinner while Hutch rested. “Whatever you want, babe. Well, as long as it doesn’t contain worm livers or toad testicles.”

“Worm livers? Toad testicles? Starsky, there are no such things.”

“Exactly.” The brunet grinned impishly back at him.

“Are you implying that I eat what amounts to nothing?”

“If the bean sprout’s in your salad…..”

After dinner they rested on the couch together. Hutch’s head in Starsky’s lap, while the latter watched game shows as he thread his fingers through the blond hair. Hutch kept his eyes closed and basked in the gentle, almost dreamy, ministration.

“Mmm….” He stretched his long neck upward like a cat beseeching for more strokes. “You wanna talk?”

Starsky just shook his head negatively, forgetting that Hutch’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see his response.

“Starsk?” The light blue eyes opened to his partner’s forward stare; his dark countenance staring, but not really watching, the television.

“Huh?” Starsky glanced down at the paler than normal face. “Oh.” His shoulders came up and dropped in a resigned shrug. “Not much to tell. It’s just…I’m still afraid.” Starsky closed his eyes and sighed, “I lost you once. It could happen again. Especially in a job like ours.” Then he shrugged again. “Hell, I’m not sure I even believe in that post-life stuff. It’s pretty heady shit. But if it’s true…”

“Starsky, we were two different people then and it was a different world. Just because we might’ve been separated once doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen every time we find each other. Besides, what if we were someone else at another time, too? I think the chances that we’ve been several people throughout history are pretty high. And there’s no saying that we didn’t have happy, fulfilling lives together in any of those.”

“David, look at me.” Hutch reached up and grabbed the prickly chin. “I’d like to believe our destiny is to keep finding and loving each other throughout the ages. No matter whom we were or are. Even if we’re gibbons. You should focus on that, rather than who we might’ve been and how we were separated and if it could happen again.”

Starsky pondered that for a moment, letting it bounce around in his heart and mind. “I like that idea. Never thought of it that way.”

“I look at the ½ empty glass enough for both of us. Don’t add to it, okay?” Hutch continued to pull the darker face forward and gave the irresistible mouth a gentle kiss. “No matter what happens, babe, I love you. I love you now and I’ll love you throughout time.”

He got up off his lover’s lap and the couch. “Come on, babe. Let’s call it a night. We’ve both had an exciting day.” He pulled Starsky up by the hand and led him into the bedroom.

~*~

Several months later:

Starsky was back on active street duty and down to one visit a month with Dr. MacGruder.

He was startled when he found that his fear of losing Hutch also had its roots in the senseless loss of his father at an early age, and the subsequent separation from his mother and brother. He also became more comfortable talking about his relationship with Hutch to Dr. MacGruder.

One night after a session with the psychiatrist, Starsky came home later than planned.

Hutch was in Starsky’s kitchen just pulling a casserole out from the oven, when Starsky came in, his arms ladened with packages.

“You’re late.” Hutch quipped without turning around.

“Had to make a couple of stops.” Starsky dropped off the packages on the couch and walked over to Hutch. He kissed the slightly bent figure on the side of the neck and patted Hutch’s back.”

“Where? What did you get?”

“Later.” Starsky couldn’t hide the glee and mischievousness on his face.

After a relaxing dinner with easy conversation, Hutch cleared the table and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator.

“Want one?” He asked his partner as he walked past him to the living room.
Starsky grabbed the unopened bottle from Hutch’s hand. “Nope, and neither do you.”

“Oh, I don’t?” One of Hutch’s eyebrows raised in questioning confidence.

“Don’t you wanna see what I bought?”

“Okay, I’ll play.” Hutch sighed. “What newfangled gadget did you get that’s supposed to make our lives better?”

“That’s what I’m hoping, that you’ll wanna play.” Starsky walked to his packages sitting on the couch where he’d left them when he came in earlier. “Stopped at ‘Uncle Ernie’s’ and then ‘Acme Costumes’.”

“You went to a porn shop and a costume store?” Hutch wasn’t sure he wanted to know the direction this conversation was going.”

Starsky pulled out some leather ties from one bag, and what looked like a leather skirt from another.”

“Wanna play ‘David & Jonathan’?” He leered at Hutch, who’s mouth dropped open.

“Wha…What the hell?!” Stuttered his astonished lover.

“Doc MacGruder says I should embrace the idea that I could’ve been King David and to learn more about the lifestyle and culture. After all it is part of my background.”

“Somehow I doubt he meant using these… What are they?”

Holding up the leather straps, Starsky explained what his ‘accessories’ were for. “These are similar to the straps that the Israelite warriors used to attach their weapons onto their bodies. And this,” he lifted the ‘skirt’, “is a warrior’s dress like they wore in combat.”

“Dress is about right.” Snorted Hutch.

“So how ‘bout it, lover?” Starsky asked as he threw one of the leather kilts to Hutch. Who caught it in his arms, but the expression on his face told a different story.

“You look like I just made you eat a burrito. Come on, Hutch. It might be fun.”

“I can think of some other fun I’d rather be having.”

“Yeah? Well that’s the plan.” Starsky leered and winked at his lover.

Hutch made a grab for the straps that Starsky held in his other hand, but Starsky pulled them back and out of Hutch’s reach. “Oh, no. Those are for me.”

“And just what do you plan on doing with them?”

“I’m sure I can think of something.” He swatted Hutch’s rear. “Now go change, my handsome Prince.”

When Hutch was finished ‘dressing’ – or undressing as he saw it - he found Starsky in his bedroom standing with his rear facing the doorway. He stood for a moment admiring the muscular, bowed legs, imagining the plush rear beneath the leather kilt, visualizing an oral mapping of the valley of that burly back where the spine lay, and recalling the times he held onto the lean, but strong shoulders

“Something tells me your plans are going to change.” Hutch whispered.

“Huh?” Starsky heard Hutch behind him, and turned. Upon seeing his lover, his eyes burned brightly with lust. “Man, babe, you’re hot.”

“Look who’s talking. You look like a Greek statue come to life.”

The next thing Starsky knew, Hutch was directly in front of him, those long legs crossing the room in two strides. Before Starsky could take his plans in hand and get his lover into the bed, Hutch was on his knees before him; broad hands running up his thighs and cupping his genitals hidden beneath the leather, where a surprise awaited him.

Starsky was commando.

From the moment Hutch touched him, all Starsky was able to communicate was a groaning “Uh…Hutch…”

Hutch knew how to render his partner helpless. “Slight change of plans, babe.” Rubbing his face gently into the leather before him, Hutch warned Starsky, “We’re doing my version of David & Jonathan.”

“Your version?” Starsky grabbed the long blond strands on Hutch’s head. He didn’t care what Hutch’s version was, as long as the tender ball play continued and progressed further. He pushed Hutch’s head closer to his groin, knowing that he risked marking impressions on his pale face from the leather, but not caring at that point. “You’ll have to show it to me.”

“That’s the new plan.” Hutch’s voice had a smirk in it, his fingers reaching up to tickle Starsky’s balls and lay pressure on the area just behind them.

By unbuckling his belt, Starsky sent a signal to his lover that playtime was over. He pushed the waistband over his hips, and Hutch pushed the kilt down the rest of the way.

With the kilt at his feet, Starsky stood before the kneeling Hutch in all his natural glory.

Hutch didn’t bother to remove his own kilt. He leaned forward and began an oral adoration of Starsky’s desire filled cock, while using his left hand to continue the fingertip massage of Starsky’s balls. Which vibrated and retracted at the feather-lite touch.

Pleasure filled grunts and groans from Starsky became more demanding. Hutch obliged by putting his first two fingers in his mouth, lathering them with saliva, then reaching behind Starsky and pushing them into the tightened anus.

“Uh…damn. Sunuva….Oh, damn, Hutch.” Starsky’s fingers dug deep into Hutch’s shoulder to steady himself.

While Starsky groaned incomplete sentences, Hutch continued to finger fuck him on one end and suck him on the other, while Starsky rocked his hips to get more and more stimulation from the luscious mouth and the long, thick fingers.

With one long groan and a lunge toward Hutch’s throat, Starsky came, bathing his lover’s throat with all the essence Hutch could wring out of him.

Hurriedly, Hutch stood up and guided a shaky Starsky backward to the edge of the bed and helped him to lie down before he collapsed on the floor.

“Oh, man. That was great, babe.” Starsky said, once he got his breathing under control. He rolled onto his side, watching his partner. “Your turn.”

“Too late.” Hutch removed his kilt, revealing his flaccid cock. He climbed into the bed next to Starsky, cuddling close.

“What?” Starsky sat up and looked down on the floor. The kilt he had been wearing lay where Hutch had slipped it off. A creamy fluid pooled on the leather. “You mean…”

“Yep.” Hutch was neither ashamed nor embarrassed. “Doing you makes me so hot.”

“Now I gotta have it cleaned.” Groaned Starsky. But an impish grin on his face gave away that he was not upset. “Should I be honored?”

“You better be.” And Hutch leaned in for a kiss.

“We should do this more often,” whispered Starsky.

Chuffing, his breath rustling his bangs, Hutch commented, “You’re insatiable. I think we do it often enough.” He rubbed his hand on Starsky’s shoulder, always feeling that touch was the perfect way through the afterglow, sometimes arousing them for another round of loving.

“Not that. Role playing.”

“Yeah.” Starsky got into the idea. “You know, pick characters from history and pretend to be them. Robin Hood and Little John, Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred, Richard the Lionheart and Philip of Spain, Alice Toklas and Gertrude Stein…”

“Starsky! They were women!”

“So? We could pretend, couldn’t we?” Starsky flashed his long eyelashes copiously.

“I’m not dressing up in a skirt and hose!”

“Not even for me?” Starsky pouted with exaggeration. “You wore a leather skirt for me just now.”

Hutch groaned, and tried to change the subject. “I’ve got a better idea.” He kissed Starsky’s shoulder lightly. “Why don’t we just pretend we’re trapped in this bed with no clothes and see where it takes us?”

Starsky closed his eyes with the onslaught of fingers traveling up and down his arm and chest. “Mmm…I think I need more persuasion. Less discussion.”

With that, talk ceased as Hutch rolled over onto Starsky and took his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss; designed to melt away everything but the two of them and their love.

Jonathan’s spirit lingered just beyond the field and he watched as his friend and lover laid the bodies of himself and his father into a cavern of a large hill. He felt David’s pain as the other man mourned the passing of his friends: lover and king. He felt no fear, no sorrow, no anger. Jonathan only felt peace. He knew now that they had an eternity to look forward to. This was just one step of a long journey together.

“For ever in time we shall meet, my David. For I belong to thee. And thou art mine. Do not thou fret. It shall be as Me and Thee for all time.”

He turned around and walked into the Lord’s light to wait for his friend. Eternity stretched out before them. Lifetimes of experiencing and learning; loss and sorrow; love and happiness.

**Peter Abelard, sixth plantus

Pros & Cons of moving

2008-03-29T16:51:00.002-04:00

PRO:

1) We'd still have insurance;
2) Ron would not lose any of his benefits, including vacation;
3) Start a new life;
4) It would be difficult for Ron to find another job in Cleveland at his salary.

CON:

1) I'd have to get a new job;
2) We'd lose big on the house, possibly even foreclosure;
3) Andrew would have to find another college;

Tough decision, but if Ron doesn't get offered another position with Best Buy, we might lose the house anyway. It's doubtful he'd find another job with his benefits & salary, in Cleveland.

It all hinges on if he gets offered another job with Best Buy. Maybe we should just relocate anyway.....

M&M Starsky

2008-03-19T19:57:00.002-04:00

M&M Hutch

2008-03-19T19:54:00.003-04:00

Too bad we can't create M&M Cars for them to drive in. Of course, Hutch's would be a peanut in with a crack in it! And instead of the "M", Starsky would have a stripe!

Must Haves in Writing Your Story, Part V

2008-03-18T16:35:00.005-04:00

Comedy

ROFL!

Hutchlover write comedy?!

Must Haves in Writing Your Story, Part IV

2008-03-18T16:28:00.004-04:00

Mystery

1. Protagonist should be a detective or someone being protected by said detective or cop.

2. Fill the story with colorful minor characters that touch on the mystery, but do not overload with details about them.

3. Use a basic precept: Someone or something has disappeared. Examples: Someone is dead under mysterious circumstances (it doesn’t have to be murder). An unusual piece of family history has come to light. Then build story around that.

4. Scene descriptions are important. At least one scene should read “Dark & Stormy” in the details (but not literally, unless you’re Snoopy).

5. False or misleading direction of story to keep reader interested.

6. Twist ending. Always the most important piece. It is not necessary to ‘solve’ the problem.

Must Haves In Writing Your Story, Part III

2008-03-18T10:59:00.004-04:00

The Police Story

1. MUST, MUST, MUST have a car chase.

2. No need to clear the area of innocent bystanders when firing indiscriminately. Bullets are like magic and rarely strike anyone other than criminals.

3. Procedure isn’t as important as catching the bad-guy. However, try to not have your characters corrupt evidence (i.e. wear gloves, tape off crime scenes).

4. Reads eat up the good cop/bad cop routine.

5. Snitches are all important. This is true in real police work, so having snitches in a story makes it appear “authentic”.

6. No matter how outrageous the crime or motive, real police have seen even more outrageous. Just make sure the dots are connected clearly for the reader, so he/she doesn’t have to go searching back through the story when the culmination doesn’t make sense to them.

Must Haves In Writing Your Story, Part II

2008-01-11T21:04:00.001-05:00

The Love Story

1) Average, everyday female (or male) who is surprised that someone as "plain" as she (he) thinks they are, is the object of desire for hot stud.

2) "Hot Stud" is artistic and empathetic, maybe even a little shy on the inside, and hard to get close to.

3) Love interests get together (not necessarily intimately), before something splits them up.

4) CONFLICT. Must separate lovers at least once.

5) Antagonist is a must have. But it doesn't have to be a traditional "bad guy", or even a person. Could be a bratty teenager, needy kids or parents, a job, money, substance abuse... You get the picture.

6) Sappy ending. Either lovers end up together, or one or both die.

Must Haves in Writing Your Story, Part I

2008-01-03T15:37:00.002-05:00

Horror

1) Antagonist (bad guy) or his prime henchman must be suave; give the appearance of being a gentleman. Preferrably having a foreign accent.

2) Protagonist (good guy) must be quiet type. Usually a writer or film maker, who needs some R&R.

3) Set in a sleepy town.

4) The antagnoist should live in "the house on the hill", separated from the main town. Preferrably a crime took place there many years ago.

5) Victims should include at least: an elderly couple, one child, the local drunk, the bored housewife who sleeps around, a member of the clergy.

6) Don't forget that ambivalent ending! Who wants a happy resolution in a horror story?! Think: the original Friday 13th.

Oh how the tide has changed

2007-08-11T15:40:00.000-04:00

All through this Season of BB8, the Donato's have been sitting pretty. Dick's in-your-face / tell-it-like-it-is style was controlling the game with little interference from anyone else in the house. Everyone, except Jen & Mike, were simply 1) afraid to a) upset the house, or b) upset Dick, therefore upsetting the house; 2) giving him some respect as their elder; 3) unsure how to handle someone like Dick.

The problem is they probably never had to deal on a day-to-day basis with anyone as volatile or crude as Dick.

At first, I was a big fan of Evel Dick's. I got a kick out of him and was sure that 90% of his actions were game play. And it was obvious that he really wanted to mend fences with his daughter, and that he's been trying. He's also offered her some decent fatherly advice on Nick, and the game.

But with his vile displays of calling women "c---ts", and borderline assualts, he's lost all his power, his alliance (except Daniele), and any respect.

I never was a fan of Daniele's, though. She's always come across as a whinny, spoiled, immature brat who will use her father's amends to get what she wants. In other words "Daddy, if you make those mean people go away, I'll give you attention this week." She's been playing the game well up until Nick left. When she won HOH her brains went out the window and all she cares about is a personal vendetta.

I feel for her boyfriend (& Nick for that matter). But then again, unless he's whipped, my guess is Kris is waving bye-bye as I write this. If I were his parents, I'd put the kybosh on that relationship - not hard since he's apparently moving back in with them. And that's another reason he should walk - Daniele blurting all his financial difficulties to America.

Jen is coming across as less than an idiot, but more self-centered. She turns each conversation to focus on her. But she's actually playing the game itself very smart. She plays both sides of the fence with stealth, and doesn't resort to the name calling. Giving up 1/2 the prize money may have seemed dumb to us, but maybe with her modelling she doesn't really need it, and only wants the BB8 connection to land her more Hollywood jobs. Seems that way with her comments about getting TV jobs out of this stint.

Zach is fast becoming my favorite. He’s obsessed with keeping stats, and he’s not in any “alliance”, being more of a floater. He’s been extremely observant of what’s going on, even with the other HG’s ignoring him. It makes me feel sorry for him. Maybe he has some odd quirks, but maybe it’s also in the editing. Addendum: Not sure if he’s now playing NNH or RCA, or if he’s playing both sides of the fence, but he does appear to be blabbing a lot to Dick, which scares me. If Jessica does put up Dustin and Zach decides to stay loyal with Dick, Dustin could be evicted (depending on Jen’s vote, since America – NOT ME – appears to want Dustin out). Don't be surprised to see him in the final four, depending on what happens to the NNH (what's left of the former LNC), or as the Donato's call them: The RCA - Royal Court Alliance (with two maidens (Amber & Jamecka), one Jester (Eric), one Princess (Jessica), and one Queen (Dustin).

Onto the NNH or RCA:

Jameka:

I’m not sure about Jameka yet. She’s smart, pretty, stands up for herself, and is seemingly playing well. However, she is letting Dick get on her nerves rather than ignore him like Jen did. And her total faith that God already has the game planned out is ridiculous. God gives us the tools to use, but we make the choices. And calling Dick’s mother a bitch – even in the heat of the moment – was totally uncalled for and un-Christianlike.

Eric:

I think for all the crap that ‘America’ is dishing out to Eric, trying to disrupt his game, he’s doing a damn good job. He’s a master manipulator. Dick likened him to a lawyer, and he does speak like one. He did a great job (with BB’s help) staying in the game, though I really don’t think Dustin was going to vote him out anyway. (See theory below) Apparently he wasn’t happy that ‘America’ voted for him to nominate Dustin, and he finally opened up and told ‘America’ in the Diary Room why the decision was crap. He’s got a cute relationship with Jessica going on; it’s fun to watch them getting drunk & playing games together. I don’t like what he told Dick about Amber’s secret, and the fact that the didn’t apologize to Amber on live tv on Thursday during his speech.

Jessica:

At first I was really prepared to dislike her. I do feel that she has a lot of growing up to do, but she’s just so damn adorable. Her natural joy & ebullience bring a smile to my face. And her relationship/friendship with Eric is fun to watch. I’m not sure how she’s really playing the game, other than by floating by & voting with the majority, but maybe we’ll see something during this week as HoH.

Dustin:

Dustin is my favorite player (with Zach a close 2nd). He’s controlling the NNH (or RCA), the girls trust him more than Eric, he’s close to everyone (except Dick). I think he’s in the position of the most power right now. I believe he never planned on voting out Eric in the first place. His body language to Amber screams lies. He just wanted to calm her down. Also, why would he not tell Dick he’d vote for Eric if it would buy some peace in the household (even if for a day). However, it was a bold & scary move to volunteer to go up as a pawn. He saw how that screwed Kail over. It doesn’t always work the first time even. I think the votes depend on what Jen & Zach do. I can’t see Jen voting to keep Dick in though, the way he’s treated her. Then again, they do have a truce, and she may see keeping Dick as a pawn to winning down the line. Aggghhh… I will be disappointed if Dustin leaves over Dick, but what can you do?

Amber:

I don’t know where to start with this lady. Who goes on a nationally televised show where there are dozens of cameras 24 hours a day, and you’re wearing a microphone at all times, and tells their most private secrets to STRANGERS?! I’m not saying she didn’t deserve to have her raging fit to Eric, what he did was even more uncalled for. And her constant crying & blubbering over stupid things, like Dustin taking prizes (the Horrors!), and how she things being a mother is unique, and that she loves her dog equally as her daughter. Just plain disturbed. Someone has suggested that she was probably using drugs up until the time she entered the house and is going through withdrawal, and that’s the reason for the bi-polar emotional state. And how could she forget that it was her idea to backdoor Nick! And then to outright lie and cry that she’s never lied?! Even worse is her anti-Semitic tirade. Unbelievable. Apparently protesters were outside the house the following day creating such a ruckus that the HG’s had to be locked up together for several hours in the HoH room. Then there’s her idea that she’s America’s favorite… Huh? Why? She’s got a lot of growing up to do when she gets outside, and she’ll be very lucky if she has a boyfriend, too, after the crap she told America about.

Ah well, I don't understand 'America' wanting to vote out Dustin over Dickface. That must be why we have so many social illnesses in our country today.

Ranking the monkeys on BB8

2007-07-21T22:35:00.000-04:00

1. Dick "I know everyone."

As current HOH, he has only solidified his status in the house by being bluntly honest. Letting the women (and I use that term loosely with Jessica & Daniele due to emotion & physical age) sleep in the HOH bedroom can only give him positive points... at least with them. The guys - specifically Mike & Zach - might think he's sucking up. And he probably is, but good for him the way he's doing it. He's also trying to make amends with Daniele, but not being pushy about it. And that can only come across as positive to the other monkeys. From what we've seen, he's not a bad parent. He's made some bad mistakes and he's not a great role model (strip joint anyone?), but he's not the monster parent Kail's making him out to be.

2. Daniele "Food? What's that?"

She's actually playing a smart, subtle game. Her unwillingness to fall into Nick's professions of "like", shows caution & smarts for a young person. She probably has her parents to thank for those traits. She doesn't want to be another "showmance", she obviously cares very much for her boyfriend and doesn't want to hurt him, but she gives Nick just enough to hang onto & trust her. As somone who was abandoned for many years by her father (though I had a loving mother), it's not easy to let by-gones just be gone. Especially on national tv. Now if we can just get her to eat!

3. Jameka "Represent!"

Another lady playing it subtle. She's starting to come out of her shell, but I think that was because she was overwhelmed being the only 'minority' in the house. She's showing some gumption confronting Jen on her scare tactics, and she held her own with Zach.

4. Dustin "I beat my ex at a game I don't even like! Ecstasy!"

He could be ranked higher except for his stupid alliance with Amber. I'm not sure what he's thhinking there; maybe he needs a 'fag hag'? (I'm one myself, so don't yell at me! I didn't invent the term.) And he's a class act, exemplified by his good-bye message to Joe. It doesn't hurt that he's adorable to both men & women. What the hell was he thinking there?!

5. Zach "Sucking up wherever I can"

He recognizes Dick's "game playing", because he's doing the same himself. He aligned with the MRA, probably to see where it would go, but when it fell apart he jumped quietly and quickly. Unlike Nick.

6. Eric "You can spell AmERICa without me!"

He's been subtle about his 'assignments', so he's not yet given away that he's the secret twist. But he's not doing much game playing at this point. He's ticked a few people off apparently, but not enough for them to make him an enemy. More than likely he'll make the sequester.

7. Nick "I think I like you, except I might be gay or bi or pansexual or...."

Nick's in a precarious position right now. I feel he's playing Daniele and I'm not the only one. Dick, Eric & Jessica are being smart, realizing he's probably playing them, but with no evidence, they're keeping their eyes on him. "Keep your friends close & your enemies closer". Also, the way he keeps pushing Daniele to show some romantic inclinations will only hurt him in the long run. If Dick gets evidence of that, or if Daniele breaks down anymore due to his pressure, you can bet Dick will go after him.

8. Mike "Look for me on the next milk carton"

Mike still seems to be aligned with Kail, but I think he voted for Joe's removal because he saw the way the household was leaning and he didn't want to be a target. Unfortunately he's not fooled anyone. He's the next target of Dick's group, I'm sure. He hasn't really done much except try to avoid Kail lately and lifted weights with Nick.

9. Amber "I'm just emotional!"

Amber has no value in the house. This was verified in the recent feed where Dick is telling her they need to distance themselves from each other because the others had caught on. Dick was being smart, seeing Amber's waste, and he did it in a good way (well for him). Of course what does Amber do, but go cry on Dustin's shoulders. Expect her to be gone soon.

10. Jen "Me and my best friend, the unitard!"

Boy if I was her parents, I'd be waaaayyy embarrased! She's crass, jealous, ignorJent, and self-centered. Dick nailed her on that right away. And I don't see how she can say they're alike. She doesn't speak her mind at all. Not sure whose mind she's speaking, actually, since she doesn't appear to have one that doesn't focus on her. She totally didn't get Julie's digs. Whoosh! Right over her empty head. And the bitching & moaning & crying over her pictures?! WTF? Please.... But she sure is fun tv.

11. Kail "I'll play the game smart, I'll trash Evel to his daughter!"

She has major issues. 1) She can't even say Dick's name because it's a bad word?! 2) She's homophobic. 3) She's paranoid to the point of allienating everyone in the house, including her so-called alliance. 4) She got caught in a big lie against the one person who won't hold back. She couldn't hold her own against Dick's accusations and come up with a reasonable debate, so that only made her look worse. And going to Daniele and trying to trash Dick?! As a parent, she should know that outsiders against family will rarely work, esp in this situation, and esp since Dick & Daniele had a reasonably good relationship, and it only fell apart a couple of years ago. She's soooo gone.

Cleveland PRIDE

2007-06-17T14:41:00.000-04:00

Andrew & I went to the Parada & Festival on June 16th, with the only intentions being to see Nemesis (or Nemesis Rising as they're now known as).

However, we had a great time at the parade. So much so, that we almost missing seeing Jacob & Joshua! We were chatting with several others and making fun of the homophobic religious nutcases across the street.

The AIDS task force threw Andrew several condoms, which Mom promptly confiscated. Of course, he said he only wanted the candy that came with it. right

We stayed at the Festival for a bit, but it was waaaayy too hot. About 90 degrees, and right off the lake, but no breeze. Andrew saw several suggestive t-shirts he wanted ("I Like Boobies" was one, which I'm sure was geared towards the Lesbians), however Mom curtailed those purchases, too.

After going home for a bit to change and cool down, we went back and enjoyed Jason Stuart, a comedian who's been on 'My Wife & Kids' and 'House'. He asked all his "straight friends" to make themselves know, and then didn't believe I was straight because I was "dressed like a lesbian". (t-shirt, khaki shorts, sunglasses & baseball cap) Told me to go put on some make-up, which I don't wear. Picked on me a bit, but then afterward asked everyone to applause since I took it so well. Very funny gentleman. I even got 99% of the gay jokes and thought they were hilarious.

After a young folk singer, Eric Heiman (sp?) who was actually very, very good, we got to the stars: Jacob & Joshua Miller of Nemesis Rising!

Whoo!

They didn't have their backup singers or band and apologized, but who cared!

They bantered with each other and the audience. Several guys put money down their pants which they took with good grace, and Josh admitted was a first for any of their performances. That surprises me. They came out to greet people standing at the sides of the stage and give kisses & shake hands. I'm not that aggressive, so I didn't try. Besides, I doubt they'd want that kind of attention from a middle-aged hetero woman who's only five or so years young than their mother.

Their voices are much better live. Josh's is definitely lower, Jacob's more pop. Josh's solo, "On My Own" is beautiful. Much better than the bit shown during their Logo series.

Just great, nice young men. Beautiful smiles, friendly personalities, and they seem very appreciative of their audience.

Some pictures are listed below, linked to my Photobucket. So far I only have the pictures from my camera phone on there. More (& bigger) will be added soon.

Pictures from Nemesis

2007-06-17T14:40:00.001-04:00

Photobucket Album

LOST SPOILERS

2007-05-16T09:40:00.000-04:00

DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE SPOILED!

I'M NOT KIDDING, THIS IS SERIOUS SHIT!!!

PROBABLY THE BEST DAMN SEASON FINALE OF ANY SERIES EVER, (Except maybe the "Who Shot JR?" of 'Dallas').

LAST CHANCE.....

Okay, you asked for it-

Charlies finally dies. (thank goodness)

Several Others die when they try to charge the beach.

Locke survives, but thinks about killing himself. WALT stops him, but then disappears. He then goes to the transmitter tower to try to stop Naomi from breaking up Rousseau's transmission, and kills Naomi. He then threatens to kill Jack, but backs down.

Naomi is NOT who she appears. There is a message from Penny somewhere and she denies knowing Naomi.

But the biggest, biggest piece of news is that Jack's flash back IS NOT A FLASHBACK, IT'S A FLASH FORWARD!!!!! He becomes a junkie, gets depressed when he sees his ex-wife pregnant by someone else, tries to kill himself. AND HE & KATE ARE OFF THE ISLAND!

WHOA, HUH?

LOST Theories & Musings

2007-05-10T15:53:00.000-04:00

Over the last week I've heard some interesting theories:

1) That the Island is a 'weigh-station' of sorts where the soul waits while it's determined if your final destination. Each Lostie has been involved in a con, murder, accidental death, manipulation, or threats except Jack (death during surgery not counting since the patient was warned of the possible outcomes). Which could explain the "Shepherd's not the list" remark. And the smoke monster could be the final juror before judgement, ala Mr. Eko. EXCEPT what about Bernard & Rose & Walt & Michael? As far as we know, they've never done anything shady or harmful. This could explain Richard's in-ability to age. However, them being dead doesn't explain Juliet. She was obviously brought there from 'off Island'.

2) Someone is supposed to die during the Season Finale. My guess is Charlie. However, Terry O'Quinn (Locke) did sell his Hawaiian home a few weeks ago. Hmmmm...

3) Is Jacob, Locke stuck in a time-warp. Several posters have mentioned that the brief glimpse resembled an older Locke and sounded like him.

4) Ben is jealous of Locke and it's obvious that the other inhabitants are looking for a new "leader". Locke's miraculous recovery proves he has some spiritual power with the Island. But then again, so does Rose.... Will Ben go after her next?

5) Will we ever find out what happened to Walt & Michael? Since the world believes that Flight 815 crashed with no survivors, what will happen when they show back up?

6) Either Ben is a physical manifestation of the Island spirituality, orr he projects his feelings onto the Island's magnetic powers. I.E. His mother died giving birth to him at 7 mos. The females that get pregnant on the Island die at that point.

7) Somehow father's are the driving force. Each Lostie + Ben (not counting Walt, Rose, Bernard, Sayid, or Boone) had father issues.

Latest on Lost Theories

2007-03-23T14:27:00.000-04:00

Someone pointed out that Locke has some kind of control over the Island, whether he knows it or not.

However, pondering it more, I think there’s a flaw in that theory. One Word:

ROSE

(Who you ask? Yeah, I know. Pisses me off too that we haven’t seen those two more.)

Rose’s cancer was cured by the Island. She also does not want to leave. And of course, Bernard won’t leave without her.

Unlike Locke, however, she won’t prevent anyone else from being rescued. Why does Locke care if anyone else leaves? Ben has a reason to prevent anyone else from leaving, and that the Initiative (not that we know exactly what that is). Locke doesn’t.

Speaking of the Others, if they’re in communication with the rest of the world (or were, until Locke blew everything up), and they went to “war” against the Losties & Tailies, why didn’t they get outside help for them when the plane crashed? They’re so protective of their studies (or whatever the hell it is they’re doing), they could’ve informed the Australian equivalent of the FAA where the plane went down and gotten them rescued. Or, if they didn't want outsiders to know, they could’ve lent the Losties & Tailies their boats and taken them elsewhere for further rescue.

Does this make sense to anyone else?

American Idol, Top 12

2007-03-15T16:35:00.000-04:00

First, I want to say that this is the most depressing Season of American Idol. Granted, I didn't watch Season 1, however, it sure couldn't be as bad as this one.

Where is the diversity? (After Wednesday) There are no African American males, no country singers, no rockers (I don't count Gina), no crooners (! not sure if that's good or bad - John Stevens - good, Will Makar - bad), no ditzy girls. Of course we do have our obligatory male teenager, so I guess that's some diversity. Diversify we could do without this year.

I'll be honest, I haven't been prompted to vote ONCE all season. As much as my initial love for Sligh and my current awe for Melinda & Lakisha & Blake. Sorry guys, you just aren't winning my love like Bo, Taylor, Clay & Chris D.

1. Brandon Rogers

I knew Brandon was going home after watching this on DVR when I skimmed through it the first time, barely listening to him. Unlike Travis Tucker who couldn't hold his breath & sing at the same time he danced, Brandon didn't seem to have too much of a problem there. If only because he forgot the words! And unlike Haley & Chris R. (see below), his actions on stage made it very obvious. Not to mention he went first. Not a good place to be if your performance is going to be less than mediocre. Right, Rudy & Patrick (Hall)? To his credit, Brandon was very gracious leaving us on Wednesday.

2. Melinda Doolittle

J'elle adore! There's something about this lady that just grabs you and makes the hair on your arms & neck stand out. She's been consistently the best performer and singer throughout the competition. Unless she murders one of the judges, I can't see anything hurting her (even then the fans might give her a pass). The lack of a neck is distracting, but with training on how to use her body and the right fashions, she'll be fine.

3. Chris Sligh

Oh, Chris, my boy. He's falling down the ladder in my book. First, lets address the glasses. I'm sorry to say this, but he looked like a little piggy without those glasses. As a fellow glasses-wearer, IMO they add personality & distinction. Put them back on, Chris! As far as the song goes, I guess you can't please everyone. Credit should be given to Chris for trying to make the song "more modern", but it really wasn't done well at all. The music was all over the place, and his pitch was off several times, like he was straining to jump from chord to chord. Listen to the pros, Chris, when they "tell" you to do or not do something. There's a reason they're superstars.

4. Gina Glocksen

Gina's actually growing on me nicely. It surely wasn't the best vocals she's ever done, but she looks good doing more of a rock vibe. She looks happier, and less strained than when she tries to do power ballads. The outfit was something to be desired, however! Yikes! I thought heels & jeans went out in the 80s. And that jacket with it looked too small.

5. Sanjaya Malakar

Okay, I'm going to admit. I think Sanjaya's adorable. He's cute, his voice isn't bad, his smile is to die for. But he's way over his head. His voice hasn't matured enough to be performing at this level. He looks scared up on stage. Reminds me of a male Janay C. His voice does have a nice tone, but he needs training. I feel for him, though. It's not his fault that his fans keep voting him through. And really, should we encourage him to quit something? What does that at tell a young person? He's persevering the best he can at this point.

There's a reason we have not let our son try out for American Idol yet, and this is proof enough. 1) We don't want him subjected to the nastiness; and 2) His voice isn't ready.

6. Haley Scarnato

I wonder if they paired Haley & Sanjaya together on purpose? The two worst singers. Both seem to have stage/confidence issues. Haley is very pretty and the camera does love her. I really never noticed her voice, but it's very nice. Soothing, rich. And for once she showed a personality. I'm glad she didn't leave right away without giving her more of a chance to gain confidence. I'm not trying to sound racist, but she's the only white girl left (not county the bi-racial Jordin), and the redneck male contingent would be more prone to vote for her. Of course if she doesn't show more confidence by next week, then she'll be gone shortly. And if she hadn't said anything, I would've never realized she forgot her words.

7. Phil Stacey

For once Phil entertained me...a little. His vocals were better than I've heard from him. No obvious problems with the lower register, but he can't keep relying on power chords. He's still bland, though, with no obvious genre that he seems to fit it. He's just a good singer; would make a good wedding singer, actually. And I really thought he looked like Nosferatu or the vampire in the original 'Salem's Lot' (which starred David Soul, BTW. I found a way to fit him in this critique!)

8. LaKisha Jones

Ah, the lovely, blessed Kiki. Her vocals and outfit were spot on! I think she was slightly better vocally than Melinda, but Melinda has better stage presence at this point. My fear is still that she's a one-trick pony, and can only sing the bluesy or gospelly songs, ala Mandisa of last year. I wonder why she didn't take La Diva's advice of using the mike stand however. I think it would've had more of an impact.

9. Blake Lewis

Blake really grew on me during the semi's and this song did nothing to deter that. Unlike the judges, I liked it. Sure, the vocals were spot on, but he's a born entertainer. He commands the stage better than any of the guys. I never really cared for that song, anyway, so I was impressed with the fact he tried to inject some liveliness into it. And I hope the judge's critique won't deter him from 'Blake-izing' things in the future. He brings much needed uniqueness and freshness to A.I. We've never had a contestant like him before.

10. Stephanie Edwards

Aiiyyyee, my eyes! Whomever dressed Stephanie in that paisley mess should be shot - even if it's Stephanie herself! The only thing I can think of is that she wanted to stand out from Melinda and LaKisha. She did, but not in a positive way. Her vocals were spot on, but there's something boring about Stephanie. She reminds me alot of LaToya London, but with less personality. I think she's more of a robot than Sabrina.

11. Chris Richardson

I'm sorry, NOTHING will ever get me to like this guy. I like boy bands, but not only is he a 3rd rate boy band singer, but he's ugly. Sure he has personality and he grabs the audience, but his vocals are so weak and breathy. In fact, I like him less than Sanjaya. I could deal with Sanjaya over Chris, since I can turn off the music and watch pretty Sanjaya. There's nothing attractive about this guy. But I admit defeat that he'll be around for awhile.

12. Jordin Sparks

Jordin has amazing control over her voice for 17 years old. And therein lies the difference between her and Sanjaya. She knows what's good for her voice. I didn't care for her Pat Benetar rendition last week because she's so young and couldn't put the emotion behind the song. But this week she did and she was gorgeous and deserved the pimp spot. Even though I felt LaKisha & Melinda's vocals were better, they can't get the pimp spot each week. Jordin is fresh, young, she can be molded. Just what E19 likes.

I hope to keep this blog throughout the season and update it weekly. And I promise to try to fit in a David Soul (or Starsky & Hutch) reference each time. :~)

And that's what I thought about this week. What did you think?

21st Century Christmas Songs

2006-12-15T16:54:00.000-05:00

Songs of the season for all kinds of personalities:

1) Schizophrenia- --- Do You Hear What I Hear, the Voices, the Voices?

2) Amnesia-- I Don't Remember If I'll be Home for Christmas

3) Narcissistic- - Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me

4) Manic-- Deck The Halls And Walls And House And Lawn And Streets And StoresAnd Office And Town And Cars And Buses And Trucks And Trees And Fire HydrantsAnd......... ...

5) Multiple Personality Disorder---- We Three Queens Disoriented Are

6) Paranoid---Santa Claus Is Coming To Get Us

7) Borderline Personality Disorder--- You Better Watch Out, You Better notShout, I'm Gonna Cry, and I'll not Tell You Why

8) Full Personality Disorder--- Thoughts of Roasting You On an Open Fire

9) Obsessive Compulsive Disorder---Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells Jingle Bells,Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, JingleBells, Jingle Bells

10) Senile Dementia---Walking In a Winter Wonderland Miles from My House in MySlippers and Robe

12) Oppositional Defiant Disorder---I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus So I BurnedDown the House

13) Attention Deficit Disorder--We Wish You......Hey Look!! It's Snowing!!!

Jeans & Watches

2006-09-14T10:10:00.000-04:00

Genre: Gen
Description: Alternate tag to ‘Shootout’. Response to challenge.

One day after the restaurant shooting:

He’s gonna be fine, he’s okay, Hutch reiterated to himself as he paused before opening the door to Starsky’s hospital room.

“Hey, buddy, you about ready to blow this joint?”

The moment the blond head appeared in the doorway, Starsky began to climb out of his hospital bed. By the time Hutch was fully through the door, he was on his feet, pulling the skimpy cotton gown down for propriety. “’Bought time you got here.” He grumbled to his partner.

Starsky grabbed the plastic bag full of clothes that Hutch held out, and quickly strode into the bathroom, not worrying that the back of his gown was open, after all he had briefs on.

From behind the partially closed bathroom door, Starsky made a suggestion. “Hey, Hutch? I was thinking…”

“You’ve got a bullet wound. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Ha, ha. Really. What if we had a celebration?”

“For what?”

“For me, making it. For you bringing down two mob hitmen. Kinda…” Starsky’s voice was muffled the rest of the sentence as he pulled his shirt on over his head.

“I don’t know, Starsky.”

“We can invite the girls, Huggy, Diane. Sammy and his girl can give us pointers and we can do a vaudeville routine.”

Starsky walked out of the bathroom as he tucked his shirt in his jeans one-handed. “I can do the jokes, you can be the straight-man.” He looked up at Hutch, “’Cause let’s face it, you can’t tell jokes.”

Hutch was affronted. “Can too!”

Starsky snorted. “Whatever you say, Hutch. But I’d get a better reaction from the audience. This’ll be fun. We can practice first, get some crazy getups…”

“No.” Hutch said firmly as he slapped Starsky’s wallet and badge into his outstretched palm.

Letting the subject go for now, Starsky slipped the wallet in his back pocket and pulled his jacket out of the plastic bag, putting the badge in that right pocket.

Hutch helped his partner put his jacket on and snapped the front buttons, keeping his injured arm in a sling beneath the jacket.

Both stood for a few minutes while Starsky looked around.

“Got everything?” Hutch asked. He grabbed the discharge instructions and a plant from off the chest of drawers next to the bed.

“Where’s my holster and gun?”

“Starsk, you can’t draw. Besides, you’re on leave for a few weeks. Don’t worry, the gun’s safely locked up and your holster is hanging up, back at your place.”

“Yeah? Well where’s my watch?”

“Your watch? You didn’t have a watch, did you?”

“Yeah. I always wear a watch. Remember? Back at the restaurant you gave me your pocket watch, ‘cause I couldn’t read my wristwatch. I feel naked without my watch.” He grumbled.

Without saying anything, Hutch turned around and opened the door to the hallway, holding it for his injured partner.

As Starsky stepped out before Hutch, he glared at him. “You forgot my watch didn’t you? Did you leave it in the emergency room?” Continued silence followed Hutch out the door. “You didn’t leave it at the restaurant did you, when the paramedics took it off?”

They strode down the hallway side by side, Hutch admitting that he left Starsky’s watch at home. “I was more worried about making sure you had a pair of crummy jeans, than a watch! Wouldn’t want you to go walking out of here with your bare ass sticking out!”

As they entered the elevator, Starsky grumbled. “What kind of cop am I? No watch, no gun. For that matter, what kind of partner are you?”

I'm a Baby Boomer, too!

2006-07-31T10:53:00.000-04:00

I’M A BABY BOOMER, TOO!

The Greatest Generation, Baby Boomers, Gen-Xer’s, Y’s. We classify generations of Americans in order to define their desires and needs, likes and dislikes; how they mold our lifestyles.

But what of us who fall through the cracks? How can the media categorize someone and try to fit their square peg into the round hole they want them to go into?

Baby boomers are technically those born from 1946 – the end of WW2 – to 1964 – the beginning of the Vietnam ‘Conflict’. That’s a 20 year difference and in my family encompasses two generations in one classification. My Uncle – born in 1947, and myself – born in 1964.

When I was in college it was big news that the first Baby Boomers were turning 40. Now that I’ve hit that big age mark, the media talks about the first Baby Boomers retiring. I’m nowhere near retiring. How can I compare myself to those now turning 60?

Our viewpoints are different. They remember Vietnam, Kennedy, Kent State, the moon landing. I wasn’t even born when Kennedy was shot. Kent State has no meaning to me, other than it’s nearby my city and they hold annual events pertaining to the shooting. I wasn’t allowed to stay up for the moon landing, and my parents shielded me from Vietnam coverage. At that age I only cared about Speed Racer, learning to ride a bike, dressing my Barbies, and that I loved having a baby sister.

While the eldest of the Baby Boomers are concerned about retiring, rising health costs, and being able to afford their currently lifestyles, my concerns are how I’m going be able afford to send two kids to college and if Social Security will still be around when I get to that glorious age. Or if I or my husband WILL BE able to retire.

The media consistently draws attention to Baby Boomers as the generation who’s been defining American lifestyles and our dictates for the past 30 years. There’s nothing wrong with that, as that ‘generation’ involves the majority of citizens. However, even within that demographic, the media caters to or determines those Baby Boomers as those born in the 1950s or just after the war. What about us stragglers – those born in the early 60s? Who are we? Where do we fit in? How do our choices and decisions reflect currently policy, entertainment, or living? Don’t we get a say, too? The Gen X-ers and Y’s are now getting their voices heard and their choices known. But somehow a generation of children at the end of the baby boomer era and through the early 70’s got forgotten by the media.

As the Baby Boomers reach more age and lifestyle goals, we’ll continue to be defined by those a generation older than us. I can’t compare myself to those just turning 60, or even those in their 50s. I’m still young enough to have children in school, to have a hefty mortgage, small savings, and decades ahead of work.

So to the media and everyone else I shout, I’m a Baby Boomer, too! But don’t define me by a specific demographic. Don’t forget about me and those of us born at the tail end of the baby boom. We need to have our voices heard. Our goals, dreams, choices are just as important to the demographic as those of the Greatest Generation and beyond.

My new Starsky avatar

2006-07-29T12:29:00.000-04:00

Why is Jade still ungracing our TV?

2006-05-12T20:57:00.000-04:00

Jade is good TV. She's actually takes excellent pictures, but she's better TV. Her mismangement of words & phrases are funny. Her attitude is drama. Every week people want to see/hear what Jade is going to pull next. But I seriously doubt she can win.

I love both Joanie & Danielle, and both take beautiful pictures. Danielle has more personality & spirit than 90% of the girls that have ever appeared on ANTM. I don't think there's been a more natural model than Joanie. Her elephant/shaver photoshoot was probably the best that's ever been done on ANTM. However, I do think that the producers are leading us down a path, making us believe that Danielle is too "uncouth" to win. Either lady would be a credit to any company that chooses to work for them. Sure Danielle's speech isn't the most eloquent, but it's not like you can't understand her at all! And I'm not Southern. How many top models today are from all over the world & have differing speech patterns & accents? And how they can say that Joanie doesn't "look" like a model is beyond me. She has that lovely long neck and excellent facial bone structure.

Why Chris Lost and is there a conspiracy?

2006-05-12T20:33:00.000-04:00

Let's get to the main point: Was there a conspiracy by Fox to get rid of Chris?

No... for the following reasons:

1) there is always a "shocking" exit every season on AI (though few less shocking than this one.) Beginning with the first season, Tamyra Gray was booted in fourth place over the vocally poor Nikki "Pole Dancer" McKibbin. Just last season Constantine was booted early on over Scott Savol (though I prefered Scott over Crapenstine, personally). Not only that we had four very good singers & performers. With three white Southern males, the vote was bound to be split in some ways.

2) why on Earth would Fox anger so many viewers by getting rid of the guy who was leading most of the polls to win? why on Earth would Fox dump such a good singer when many more fans were tuning in just to watch Chris? It makes no sense logically or financially.

3) re the phone number conspiracy. Last season Fox had two instances which the phone numbers were messed up or had technically difficulty, and not only admitted it, but in one instance even had a revote taken. Some fans say they couldn't get through, some have said they got through right away and voted for an hour straight. I haven't voted for Chris for sometime, throwing all my votes to Elliot (with a few thrown in for Taylor).

All this conspiracy talk is just poor sportsmanship on the part of fans and now listening & reading Chris' exit interviews, I see where they get it from.

Chris admitted that he arrogantly believed he was untouchable. On RealityTVGames, there is a post of play-by-play when he & Katharine were on the Seal. He's smirking & grinning just before the announcement, like he knew there was no way he was going. Not only that, now he's placing the blame firmly on the shoulders of the voters, rather than admitting that his voice was having problems and he showed minimal personality (& mostly a boring one). And that his intensity - while great for most of the songs he sang - turned off alot of viewers. Hard rock music is not as popular as one thinks in the U.S. (witness Carrie, Kellie, Bucky....)

I've been reading & reviewing the boards the past few days, and surprisingly many fans - while not ecstatic that he's gone - actually are relieved not to have to listen to his one-note singing, see his glaring, unsmiling face/eyes, or get bored. These are not my opinions (though true to some extent), but rather everything I've gathered on the boards.

Why did Chris lose is a different story. I believe that yes, the fans weren't out in full force. But also, the majority of votes come in through TEXT MESSAGING, NOT PHONING. Chris's fans for the most part, aren't the type to spend $ texting. Not only that, based on his interviews and listening to the last two weeks, I believe Chris was phoning his performances in, waiting for the finale. And I'm not the only one who believed that. It's very obvious now that he's very hurt, upset, and slightly bitter. OVER A TV SHOW?! One that gave him more fans and opportunities than he could ever have singing in a bar. He needs to calm down, move on, and so do the fans. Chris will actually be better off not having won or even come in second and have to do some lame-ass soft-rock like Bo was forced to do. (For proof, a months-old documentary that was reviewed on FoxOnIdol.com, it's very revealing on how frustrated Bo was in making 'his' CD.)

American Idol 5/8

2006-05-09T21:52:00.000-04:00

Taylor #1 - "Jailhouse Rock". Fun, energetic, the usual Taylor. It was a bit more kareoke than last week's 'FWB', but this is the Taylor we all smile at & clap with. Fug Simon, he's nuts sometimes.

Chris #1 - "Suspicious Minds". It was 'meh', for someone of Chris's abilities. And all I kept thinking was Why's he wearing Bo's sunglasses?

Elliot #1 - "????" Can't even remember what he sang! I do remember that he was shaky during the first part, and coming away unimpressed when he really needed to shine.

Katharine #1 - "Hound Dog" By rights, she should've nailed this song with as much fun as she seemed to be having. However, at this stage of the competition, to FORGET THE WORDS!!!! is a slap in the face to the artist and very unprofessional (Melissa McGhee anyone?), and they weren't even difficult lyrics (see Chris #2).

Taylor #2 - "In the Ghetto". Beautiful. Moving. When he nails a song, he NAILS a song. More moving & better interpretation that last week's "Something", and that's saying alot.

Chris #2 - "Little Less Conversation". I'm not sure what Simon's drinking, but he was waaay off on his critique of this song. It's a difficult song with the lower register taking up 90% of the song, and the hurried lyrics. But Chris nearly got it right. Except the last screaming part, he would've been better without that.

Elliot #2 - "Trouble". Unfortunately I missed this one, but from the clip it sounded 100% times better than the first. I'm throwing my vote his way to keep him on.

Katharine #2 - "Falling In Love". Aiiee, Aiiee, Aiiee. Not only was it over the top, but it was also shrill at points. Time for Katharine to go home. I'm surprised Simon isn't shilling for her, since she is the last female & a very pretty one at that.

Obviously I think Elliot & Katharine should be in the bottom two. Elliot has by far the best voice, however, he lacks the charisma. Taylor has the weakest voice, but the most personality & charisma. Taylor & Elliot also sing the songs from their soul. Katharine's more like a little robot (though not as bad as Diana), and Chris is too intense and needs to relax.... man. However, I do feel that Chris & Taylor (or Elliot & Taylor) will be battling it out at the end.

WINNER OF THE NIGHT: TAYLOR HICKS

Welcome!

2006-05-09T15:40:00.000-04:00

Tonight: American Idol does Elvis.

Tomorrow: Michael shot the sheriff, but he didn't shoot Henry
and
Will the Taiwanese ever take Jade off our hands?

Stay tuned!

Hutch's test

2006-05-09T14:38:00.000-04:00

This is an initial test.

What a beautiful man!