NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 6

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

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

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

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

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

M&M Hutch

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

Comedy

ROFL!

Hutchlover write comedy?!

Must Haves in Writing Your Story, Part IV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photobucket Album

LOST SPOILERS

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

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

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

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?