Long Story Short

By KC Michaels

"The Zeppelin Society"
In the 1970's, Robert 'Fritz' Reardon was a teenager. Today, he tells this contemporary story as your magical tour guide; possessing the ability to time warp a journey of retracing the footsteps of his youth. Both you and Fritz are now teenagers in the '70s -- mapping a quest for answers to questions which have recently surfaced in his present day. The band; "Led Zeppelin" plays a pivotal role in this quest. Somehow Fritz knows, this band holds the key to understanding his disposition. You both must now travel back for the resolution he so desperately needs. This is a tale of the dreams of misspent youth; chronicling the lives of Fritz and his friends from a time of wonderment, excess, and delusion. As both of you will discover, magic comes in three colors...black, white, and grey.

"It's not Me...it's You!"
As a student in Junior High, Ken Baxter could never foresee he would one day become a famous Comedian of both the big and small screen. However, his best friend always knew, and proudly shares this story of how it all happened for 'Ken the Zen' Baxter; a behind-the-scenes look at the path one travels if searching for the elusive bright shiny star of Hollywood. And we realize, all is not funny in funny land.

"The Moon is Gay"
Upon the startling sight of a young homicide victim, Detective Harvey Drake is instantly thrown back to memories of his childhood friend. Their resemblance is uncanny, and more than a little eerie; both died around the same age. These memories surface and collide with Detective Drake's current case; haunting him of a guilty past. The Detective now finds himself working both cases at once; discovering, the more he works on solving his current case, the more he learns about the events surrounding the death of his friend.

"King Steve"
Someone is dumping decapitated dogs upon the front steps of horror writer Steve Lowery's mansion. This latest of threats has prompted a terror-struck Steve Lowery to call in a favor from the Mayor; procuring the Precinct's finest Detectives to catch the culprit. Detectives Harvey Drake and Frank Sonnefeldt answer the call, but soon have doubts as to the validity of this case. They ponder if this is all one twisted hoax by Steve Lowery to sell his latest book, and put their badges on the line when they challenge the author of horror.

"Arty"
Arthur Bennington has survived a horrific auto accident. He feels now is the opportune time to find a master student worthy of carrying his artistic torch; well into the future. As Arthur moves onward; determined to transfer his art world knowledge into a receptive soul, his Granddaughter worries for him...for she knows, he hasn't been the same since the accident.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KC Michaels
• Release date: Jun 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9780615648453

KC Michaels

Author KC Michaels was born on St. Patrick's Day, 1960 in (Tampa) Florida. As a young child (with his Parents) he traveled the United States many times, continuing the adventure as an adult. KC Michaels resides in Chicago with his wife, Dorothy. His debut collection ('Long Story Short') is available as an ebook. A second collection ('Five More') is nearing completion. A full-length Novel ('Horse Town') is also in the works. You can contact KC Michaels at: Website: http://authorkcmichaels.com email: [e-mail]

Book preview

The Zeppelin Society

Preface

Robert Reardon is on a desperate search; one which has many reservations, but only one revelation. Somehow he knows the key to unlocking this mystery is tied to his favorite band. Nonetheless, Robert keeps banging his head against a stone wall in search of a portal of resolution.

He soon wonders, if he somehow missed the critical timing, or if there ever was a portal to be found in the first place? Follow a quest for answers. Will Robert find these answers so needed for his soul, or will he perish into a land of commonwealth?

Travel back, when Led Zeppelin were Kings of the Empire, and join ‘Fritz’ as your informative guide on this journey to enlightenment. Meet the characters whom shape this magical world known fondly as: The Society; defined in part by Robert ‘Fritz’ Reardon, who offers an explanation to a generation found only to be unguardedly lost without such but one so greatly needed.

Chapter 1

Threads of a Common Weave

For Robert ‘Fritz’ Reardon, growing up a child of the ‘70s was the coolest mixed blessing in the world. Sure, there were no cell phones, computers, nor video games. But there was plenty around for all to see, Fritz vauntingly continues, "Weed was weed. Used cars were $125.00 all day long and Paul was actually cool; Junior's Farm, Venus & Mars, Helen Wheels cool. And oh yeah, Elton wasn't an overweight gay guy with bad hair. For me, I was chuggin' a beer in the woods happy to be part of the Society. Yeah, I was a member of the Zeppelin Society…

They were our band for our times. No phony ‘80s bullshit. It was real time real; buying each album brand new. But hey, this isn't a story about a great band, but rather, one of unbeknownst unity of a generation. A Society - if you will - with its focal point cast in lead.

My name is Fritz, and I'll be your guide. I'll introduce you to some of my friends. You'll like them ... they're cool. But listen, how old are you? I ask, because you had to have been a teenager between the years ‘69 to ‘79 to fully understand and appreciate that magical time. Only then, are you a member of the society; a true member. If you were too young (or too old) you missed that tiny portal to mystic wonders. But hey, don't feel down if you don't have a membership card; as this distinct honor doesn't come without sacrifice and heartache. One common side effect seems to be a countless number of true members hold the rank of: loser… financial, emotional, or both. As for me, I've never known a winner ... too many losers. It's not for their lack of trying, as you will see, but perhaps, there just wasn't an exit door found. Or maybe, the Society was meant all along to fail; a quicksand progression where the harder you try to move forward, the more you sink. And that the music possessed healing powers to act as a future poor man's shrink … the only therapy broke asses could afford. It's complex, at any doubt, but I said I'd introduce you around, so let's go check out if Mike has got his car running ...

About three months ago, Mike bought a '55 Chevy two-door hardtop. He paid $75.00 for the car. Yes, it needs plenty of work, but the body is solid. Last anyone heard, he had a built 327 and a 4-speed ready to go in. His Dad and Uncle own a construction business, so Mike has both the space and the tools to work on cars. This car is his second one. I can see the place from here ... we're almost there."

Fritz walked down Stone Quarry Road (approaching Bellestro Construction) and found Mike under the hood of his car with wrench in hand. Hey! Fritz yelled, Did you get that piece of shit running yet?

It will blow the doors off of anything you got, Mike guaranteed. "As you might have guessed, this is Mike. We've known each other for a few years now ... and though he doesn't party anymore, he's still Okay, joked Fritz. What's up?"

Oh, nothin’… just showing my friend around. Have you seen Pitney?

No, not today. He was here last night working on his car for about an hour. Other than that, I ain't seen him.

Thanks anyway. We'll catch you later. Take it easy.

Yeah.

"Hey, I know, we can check out my place for awhile. That Mike is crazy. ‘Crazy Mike’ is what we call him. He even painted that name on the side of his race car. He's got a nice '66 Chevelle. But don't ever get in a car with that guy. I made that mistake once, and we nearly got killed. He decides one day to give me a ride in his mother's brand-new station wagon. It has a 455 big block in it, and he decides to take it on some back road he's never been on before to see what it will do. As we found out, this road has a big dip and bump in it before it crosses over the highway to the other side. So, I'm like completely wasted, and Mike is doin' about a hundred, when we hit this bump and this dip at the end and before we knew it, this big station wagon is airborne about eight feet off the ground! There were thick trees lining both sides of this road, so we couldn't see shit. We didn't know we reached the end of the road where it crosses over the highway and picks up again. So, when we hit the bump and the dip at a hundred, the car became airborne, and we flew like eight feet in the air over the highway! Now, there is always traffic on that highway. I rushed out like you wouldn't believe. I looked out my side window, and saw a car screeching its brakes trying like hell not to hit us. I quickly glanced over at Mike's window and saw that a semi just past by us. We missed hitting that truck by a split second! We both looked at each other like, holy f**k! I was probably as white as a ghost as he was. We fly over and across the highway, land hard, and bottom out the suspension which gets us hopping all over the road! Mike finally slams on the brakes, and we skid to a stop. We just sat there for about five minutes realizing just how close we almost bought the farm. Never again, it didn't matter how f**ked-up I was, I never got into a car with Mike again. This is how the guy drives ... and he did this straight! He wasn't drinking, or high, or anything. He's some daredevil-type motherf**ker, I don't know.

Yeah, Mike and I were close friends once. He was my best friend for awhile. We were the only two who got away with cutting Mr. Turner's Business class. Nobody could do that and not get caught. Yet, we managed to pull it off five times for the year! But then, we started to slowly drift apart. I don't know, he was growing up fast. He had got left behind a grade, so he was already a year older than us. I think he wanted to hurry up and graduate and start his life at the construction company. I guess he didn't want to hang around us ‘kids’ anymore. But, I'd have to say it was ‘Lion Mouse’ who drove the final wedge between us. You haven't met her yet, but you will. She's Mike's girlfriend. We all think he'll wind up marrying her. I don't know, she's kinda hot ... but not the ‘every guy in school wants to nail’ hot ... you know what I mean. And I don't understand it either, because one year, we had this new chick who moved from some State and she was hot! And she had a major thing for Mike. I mean, this chick was a go-getter ... and she wanted Mike. He had just started goin' with Lion Mouse, and he wouldn't go for it. No one could believe it! She's got some tits, man ... we would say. And she did. They were like perfect! Like I said, I don't know what he saw in her. In mean, she was Okay ... ah, had curly dishwater blonde hair, stood very short, flat chested, but her face was cute. I don't know, but for whatever reason, she decided to go Yoko on my ass. Maybe what she did, she felt was right…straightening out her boyfriend ... thinking about her future. She comes from a poor family and is probably going for the golden Mike ticket. After all, she knows that one day, Bellestro Construction will be his. We all call her Lion Mouse because she's tiny like a mouse, but she can roar like a lion when she wants to. If you ask me, he should have just went for the chick who wanted his dick. Wow ... I got the munchies. I gotta munch! We're almost at my house. My Mom is home, so we got to be cool."

The Reardon residence was a modest two-level house located in the middle class section of town. In the driveway perched on blocks was a bright red ‘67 Nova waiting to receive an engine. That's my wheels, proclaimed Fritz, "I almost got the engine ready for it. It's been taking forever to build it right. It's a thirty-over 327 with 12.5 compression and two Holley four barrels. It's got a solid cam and double roller chain. This car will blow the doors off of Mike's shit for sure. I just added the chrome mags, and the traction bars, and air shocks. I got headers and cherry bombs for it, too. And oh yeah, I got a killer eight-track with six-by-nines in the back, and sixes in the doors. It sounds f**kin' nice! Maybe, it will be on the road this Summer. C'mon, I'll show you my room. I'm still buzzed, so be cool. Hey, when we go in, we got to take our shoes off. My Mom will spazz if we get shit on the carpet."

Fritz and his friend enter through the front door, and are greeted by his stay-at-home Mother. Hi, Mom, this is my friend. Is it Okay to have some cake?

It's on the counter, you two help yourselves.

Thanks, Mom. Follow me ... you can sit here ... I'll get us some milk. Fritz pours two glasses of milk, and joins his friend at the counter where he unconsciously devours the chocolate cake. "Wait till you see my room. I got a black light and a couple of real cool things from Spencer's Gifts. That place is a trip. Right now, they got a lot of KISS shit in there. I think they suck big time. Like, what do they got like one song? Surprised, Fritz realizes, Holy shit! ... I ate almost all the cake! My Mom is going to kill me! The two laugh. What's so funny in there, inquires Robert's Mother. Nothing, Mom ... hey Mom, we're going up to check out my room."

Fritz and friend place their dishes in the sink and proceed on their way up the plush carpeted stairs, down the hallway, to the last bedroom on the right. Fritz opens the door, "So, what do think? Pretty cool, huh? This is my black light poster. I look at it when I'm wasted at night. It's cool. And you know who this poster is. The six million dollar man has got to be the luckiest bastard on the planet! Look at those nipples! I build models, too. This one is, ‘The California Kid’, and this is the, ‘Jungle Jim’ funny car in one-sixteenth scale. Look at that Keith Black hemi… looks real, don't it? I hung my Zeppelin poster over by the window. It looks perfect there. I got all their albums and the eight-tracks. Here, have a seat, and let's figure this shit out. Okay, so far, I've introduced you to Mike ... and told you about his girlfriend. Shit, we still got to see…Tim… Wayne ... John ... Scott ... Doug ... and a few others. Wow, I'm starting to crash, I'll have to catch you later, maybe tomorrow. All right ... yeah, that sounds like a plan, we'll do that."

After seeing his friend out, Fritz walked back upstairs to his bedroom; closing the door behind him (and within seconds) hit the bed hard.

Chapter 2

A Gate of Vertical Shift

John Garden was a kid who didn't like Fritz. He was envious of him because Fritz had the better home life he wanted so badly. Yes, he had both original parents (as did Fritz) however, with his father employed as a body man and mother a career barfly, John stood on socially and economically shaky ground. His answer was to escape with ‘herb’ as he called it. In fact, he was also the one who first turned Fritz on to pot.

No one person knows for sure if this event was a crucial mistake in his life. After all, Fritz was foremost a dreamer, so it would naturally seem plausible to one that he would have discovered marijuana under different circumstances. It's just that John's motive wasn't friendship so much, but rather, a calculation to pull the focus of his envy down with him and into his own misery. However, the two were friends if only on the surface.

Not everyone Fritz knew was resentful. Mike Bellestro quit the weed scene a year prior. Having an older brother, Mike was exposed to the funny cigarettes before the others, but unlike his friends never became lost in the drug.

He instead, found a new high much better and more intense than any weed. A new discovery called: speed; drag race variety. In fact, Mike became hooked so fast, he was drag racing his '66 Chevelle at the strip before he had his driver's license for the street. Fritz sometimes felt guilty for injecting Mike with cars in the first place. He felt as if he did to Mike what John had done to him. But unlike himself, who knew he might have discovered pot elsewhere, Fritz believed Mike would have never been interested in fast cars if it wasn't for him. He watched Mike progress from casual interest to recreational use to full-blown addiction in a very brief amount of time. Mike was now a junkie and Fritz knew he was the one who stuck the needle in his arm.

He worked after school and on weekends as a laborer for the family construction business. By all accounts, Mike was busting his ass and spending every penny on speed parts for his two cars with a third car on his got-to-have list a '69 Z-28 Camaro. Despite sound advice from his Uncle, Mike's wallet continued to hemorrhage money to feed his reckless addiction.

His latest ‘must have’ item was a special shifter for his Muncie 4-speed transmission. The product was named, a Vertical Gate Shifter. And what this did was enable the driver to shift gears in a straight line pattern. This allowed for much faster shifts than the standard H-pattern found on regular shifters. Fritz remembers the day he saw Mike (at the mall) walking out of the speed shop with the vertical gate shifter box held proudly in his arms. Mike was high, and Fritz was sobered with remorse.

Another friend, Tim Pitney, had the height needed to play basketball, but that's where it ended. After a season of warming the bench, he went against his Father's plan and said the hell with it, choosing instead to focus on becoming a major league head.

Tim and John lived near each other on the outskirts of town. Another common ground was they each owned a '66 Ford Mustang with Tim's being on the road, and John's on blocks in the front yard of his parent's shack. The funny thing about the outskirts it plays homage to both the rich and the poor. In John's case, his parents were too poor to afford living in town, and Pitney's parents were too rich to live in town. So, sprinkled about the wooden shacks were one or two castles one which said ‘The Pitneys’ on the plaque.

Pitney traded an old rusty model A Ford he found in the woods and one hundred twenty-five dollars for a midnight blue metallic '66 Mustang. The car came with a 289 cu. in. engine with chrome valve covers, a 3/4 race cam, and white painted headers with cherry bomb mufflers. The transmission was a three speed manual shift on the floor. It had wide rear tires, chrome mag wheels, and traction bars. Pitney installed a set of gauges, a tachometer, and an 8-track stereo system.

The ultimate finishing touch an owner can make is to actually name their car. Fritz knew a guy in a car club who did pinstripe and lettering on custom cars and motorcycles. For twenty dollars, he'd paint the name usually across the door panel, or on the front fender, or even rear quarter panel wherever the name

would look best on that particular body style.

Pitney decided to name his Mustang; ‘Miss Fit’. The location of the moniker was the side of each rear quarter panel. His car was fast. Fritz riding in the passenger seat saw the speedometer point at 125 mph on two or three occasions. And this name sort of did justice to Pitney as well the two were made for each other.

John Garden also had a Mustang although his was up on blocks revealing patches of un-sanded Bondo. If his car had a name, it would have been; ‘Rust Bucket’. The car was a smorgasbord of flat black primer, lumpy Bondo, red spot-putty smears, missing trim pieces, dings, and rust holes; not a pretty sight for sure (and since John's father was a body man by trade) almost an embarrassment. But his old man wasn't going to repair the car for him. And though John was leaning towards following in his father's footsteps, no one would ever guess in a million years by the appearance of his car. A project as this takes time and work; neither of which John had. He was rarely home with all the non-stop partying that consumed his world. Yet, he still had visions of himself, and his car, prowling the famed Central Boulevard.

The unwritten rule of Central Blvd. was plain and clear… the fast cars would cruise, the really fast would race. Racing sometimes for money, but mostly for the bragging rights associated with that imaginary (yet very tangible) first place trophy sought by so many who ventured. Thus, this road became the center of attention tying several towns into one fiber of singular obsession. This was the place where all illegal street activity commenced; a place where the cars with names prowled, challenging those worthy of questioning their credentials to be there in the first place.

So, on every weekend night (from early Spring through late Fall) the deafening sound of horsepower; along with the pungent smell of burning tire rubber of which lingered about and resembled a dense fog, legitimized this claim.

As for tonight, though, Mike Bellestro was only interested in cruising if perhaps to check out any new talent which may impose a future threat to his trophy. Seated close to him in his ’55 Chevy hardtop was his steady girlfriend; the girl Fritz and crew referred to as Mrs. Bellestro. Yes, she knew of their kidding, but didn't let the meddling interfere with her vision. In fact, she would like nothing more than to be Mrs. Bellestro.

Lion Mouse wanted a better life than the one she saw with her Mother. She hated that life, and didn't want to end up the same in a rundown overcrowded trailer stuffed to the brim with two more sisters and two brothers all vying to breath and not get entwined in each other's hair. Mike was her ticket out. He had a job and would one day inherit a thriving family business. There simply was no other choice for her future but to try to latch on to Mike and go the distance.

The two met by random chance in gym class of all places. During a week-long event, in collusion with health class to promote boy/girl interaction, the gymnasium was transformed into a large square dancing hall. Among a horde of sweaty palms, red faces, and nervous giggling, they were paired as partners. The sparks instantly flew, and soon before the week had even ended and when others couldn't wait for this torture to end, they wanted to be seen at other places, not just gym class. None of Mike's friends could understand what he saw in her. Whatever it was, Mike and Lion Mouse saw it together.

Several cars behind Mike, was Tim Pitney driving his ‘Miss Fit’ Mustang. Fritz was riding with him. Man, there are so many cool cars here, I wish my Nova was on the road.

You've got to work on it.

I got no time. Frustrated by what he just heard, Pitney says, That's the same shit Garden says ... I got no time. That's bullshit, Man. Get the car together, and get it on the road. You two are going to be fifty years old before your cars are on the road.

Hey, my wheels are a lot closer to getting done than his. At least I don't have Bondo and shit all over it. What's with you tonight anyway?

I'm just tired of hearing the same excuses over and over. Why don't you just drop the motor in and get on the boulevard already!

I want to build the motor right, so it doesn't blow up the first time I'm out here. I want to be the fastest out here.

You're dreamin' ... you can't even beat me ... and I'm nowhere near to being the fastest.

Shit ... your 289 doesn't stand a chance.

Then prove it. Get your car on the road, and let's do it!

Several minutes of silence fell hard between Fritz and Pitney. As Fritz pawed through the box of eight tracks looking for one to play, he knew something was different about his friend, but couldn't put his finger on it. ‘He never trips out like that’, he thought. Placing the cartridge into the deck, Fritz offers a truce, Hey Man, what do you say we smoke this joint and watch the show.

Light it up ... just watch for Cops, Pitney says.

In the words of many, ‘Wild Cherry’ was one bad-ass 1971 Mustang. The car hailed from a neighboring town, and was powered by a built-to-the-hilt Boss 429. The car earned a reputation of not only dusting off Chevies, but Plymouths as well … without breaking a sweat. The car glistened at night with its deep black cherry color buried under a ton of clear lacquer. And there wasn't one tiny ding to be found anywhere on its body; the finish, smooth as glass. As far as the owner, all anyone knew was what they saw from the driver's window; long hair, mustache, dark shades … a standard variety freak.

Hey look, said Fritz, "Look! There's Wayne ... he's gonna run 'Wild Cherry' at the light! Fritz and Tim laugh the first time this evening. That 'tard ... he must be drunk, Tim suggests then adds, His small block '69 Chevelle doesn't stand a chance in hell. And hesitating slightly before finishing, I'm not so sure anymore if even Bellestro can win. That is one of the meanness looking cars ever."

"There they go! Ha, ha, ha ... he's already three cars behind right off the line. I'm gonna bust his balls so hard on Monday!"

Who was that with him?

I don't know, it looked like John for a second. Fritz lights another joint, and says, "That would be a good race ... ‘Crazy Mike’ and ‘Wild Cherry'."

It's too close to call.

What are you, nuts? Mike would win.

"Yeah maybe, but Bellestro cheats. He's on the street with a full-on drag car. At least, 'Wild Cherry' is street legal."

So is Mike.

"Ah, c'mon, dude ... you know that's bull. It's a race car. He tore everything out. He even has to cob up the headlights, so he can drive out here at night. All Mike does is bolt-on a couple of cherry bomb mufflers, throw on his license plate from the ‘55, and head for the boulevard. He even runs the drag slicks and wheelie bars, dude. If Mike thought he could get away with open headers, that bastard would. He's even got a vertical gate ... you see that shit? No, his ride is no way street legal. It's got no horn, no turn signals, no wipers ... nothin'."

Yeah, admitted Fritz, I know, he took all that shit off to trim weight off the car. That shit adds up ... you wouldn't believe. He's out tonight. I saw him ahead of us awhile back ... but he's got the ‘55.

I bet Lion Mouse is with him.

You know it, dude. Pitney takes a toke, He could do so much better than that ... but hey, she f**ks ... maybe that's all he's looking for right now is a steady f**k till something else comes around.

I don't know, maybe. Hey, you see that shit at lunch period? She takes his tray back for him.

Yeah! What the f**k is that all about?

I don't know, laughs Fritz, But I'm gonna bust Wayne's balls on Monday! The two laugh as Fritz pops in another tape.

Chapter 3

Black Light Castle

Fritz would spend many an after school hour at Scott Hartman's house. Both parents worked and were able to acquire a luxury six bedroom house and money to display for their effort. This meant, Scott always had quality items such as…the latest in high-end component stereo equipment. And also, plenty of quality weed to party with, as well.

A Fender Precision Bass Guitar stood in the corner of Scott's bedroom. He mentioned once he fooled around on the bass. His statement was true as he didn't possess the astute dedication needed to be more than an occasional fling. "I did figure out that Floyd line," he told Fritz, as he sat in the chair next to the opened window. Using a Yes album to de-seed the dime bag, he commented, "Listen to that bass! Man, he's un-f**kin' believable! Fritz agreed, as he anticipated the soon-to-be bowl of weed, Yeah, he can play."

The chrome Zippo flipped open sparking the flame which danced and cooked over the protruding bud. A trail of smoke raced into Scott's lungs inducing an exhaling cough, "So ... cough ... cough ... What do you think of the new Led Zeppelin album?"

Page is the greatest. It's like he paints landscapes with a guitar ... that f**ker is an Artist!

Yeah, and each album is better than the last one.

Oh shit! Look at the time ... I gotta go. I forgot I had to be home early today ... Oh f**k ... I'll catch you tomorrow.

Fritz races out of the house briskly walking and sprinting all the way to 128 Sycamore Terrace where an angry Mrs. Reardon confronts her eldest Son. You're late! Where have you been? You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! You know this dinner engagement is very important to your Father's career!

I know, pleads an out of wind Fritz catching his breath to continue, I was at Scott's house ... we can still make it on time ... I'll be down in two minutes.

You better be, young man!

The next morning (over a joint) Fritz told the crew of