Just Do Me & Die!

By Renaissance Bob

The things that torment me are that evil people exist and enjoy tormenting others. That’s what I’ve got to deal with, or I’m going to kill myself. Hopefully I won’t take another Hemingway exit. So I’ve got to overcome my ten-year torment by writing. I’ve got to get it out of my system. I’ve got to write and then push it into the courthouse. Got to write! Go bang with public justice, not a gun!
Danny Roarke narrates his story about dating women from all zodiac signs to find Ms. Right, several weddings destroyed, his time in a mental hospital, and his struggles with malignant female colleagues as a professor at Palm City University.
Danny feels the university women aim to destroy him after his favorite colleague who appealed her tenure denial to become the only faculty member to ever win appeal left PCU. He tries to keep a sense of humor about his struggles, especially after his fiancée trashes his house, but also considers the benefits of his Glock handgun. Intermeshed within his diatribe are photos of Danny’s artfully amusing pottery series, “Just Do Me.” To survive, Danny must confront his tormenting relationships with women and master his desire to be an authentic artist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546264422

Renaissance Bob

Renaissance Bob is a professor at Palm City University, with a PhD from Cornell University. He has developed his pottery skills and written several unpublished novels. Just Do Me & Die! is his first foray into blending his pottery skills with his writing. He was selected by Marquis Who’s Who for a Lifetime Achievement Award in 2017. He advocates authenticity and world harmony.

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© 2018 Renaissance Bob. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  10/12/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-6443-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-6441-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-6442-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018912333

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1     Break-In

Chapter 2     Disengagement

Chapter 3     Cliffs Of Moher

Chapter 4     Changing Attorneys

Chapter 5     Siren Call

Chapter 6     Serial Dating

Chapter 7     Turning Sixty

Chapter 8     My Block

Chapter 9     Ae And Roof

Chapter 10   Professor Ejectus

Chapter 11   Reunion At Blue Grotto

Chapter 12   Birthday Boy

Chapter 13   Wherever

Chapter 1

BREAK-IN

Shocked, I pushed open my smashed front door, amazed as I stepped over shattered glass. But the parallel slashes in Joy’s couch startled me. Clearly our August wedding with family at the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland had obstacles.

A few minutes ago, my art professor friend Dan came to my campus office. Dan told me that Joy called his attorney wife to say she had moved out. So we each drove around the block to my house. I looked around the living room, shaking my head.

Impressive slashes! She’s good with a knife. At least she didn’t use her Colt 45—I don’t see any bullet holes yet. Guess she couldn’t get her couch out, so she slashed it—or just wants to torment me. It was hard enough for you and me to get it in here from her house. But I gotta see the rest of my house, I said, still shocked.

She didn’t tell you she was moving out? Dan asked, moving toward the couch.

"She said nothing. This weekend I introduced her to my brother Rich’s family at his place in Palm Beach for Easter. They are happily married. On our ride home, she bitched that Roarke women are too compliant. And I’m not authentic. I just write about it. She left to teach yesterday and hasn’t answered her phone since."

That’s weird, Dan said, touching one of the slashes on the couch.

I felt weird last night, so I turned the old door lock. She doesn’t have that key, just the dead bolt. Apparently she thinks violence is the key. Looks like I’ll be zero for three on weddings.

You’ve been engaged three times?

She’s number three. Long story but all no shows. I’m just Danny Boy listening to the Irish bagpipes call. Not like you. You’re Lucky Scandinavian Dan! On wife number three now. When you were living here in transition from divorce number two, you wouldn’t tell me who was on the phone.

I didn’t want you to hit on her, Dan said, laughing.

I’m glad you two are really happy. But I guess even tall, smart, beautiful blond-haired women have issues. You know that Just Do Me! pottery series I’ve been doing with the erotic, acrobatic primal people outlines? It’s like online dating at Match.com, where I met her, I said, walking toward my bedroom.

Well, you’re doing great with your pottery. Everybody liked your show at the campus gallery.

It was fun. But I think the naked Just Do Me! pots would irritate lots of folks. Lucky I just showed my friendly stuff without drawings, I said, still looking at the chaos.

And keep writing, Dan added, enthusiastically.

Everything was scattered. Books from my headboard were dumped onto the bed. Suddenly I noticed that my journal was gone from the night table next to my side of the bed. Surprised, I looked in my closet and saw several shirts slashed on their hangers.

How weird. She stole my journal and slashed my shirts! I yelled and turned toward the living room.

Good luck, Danny Boy. Stay safe. I have to go, Dan said. He patted my shoulder as he walked toward the front door.

"Thanks for the tip-off. This is very weird. And I thought I finally found Ms. Right. Guess I have to write about it in my novel, My Block."

Still upset, I grabbed a new black leather sketchbook that I used as a journal from my bookshelf near the window.

April 19, 2006

My Block

You don’t know about me unless you read Roof Over Love & Lust by that little-known author, Dr. Robert Leahy. But who cares? He thinks he mostly told the truth about me, Danny Roarke. He even used excerpts from my journals, but I’m continuing this novel that I started in that novel. But maybe I should call it Just Do Me & Die! So let’s see how it comes out.

Leahy ended his novel with beautiful and sexy Joy asleep in my bed after we made love on my fifty-eighth birthday last year. She moved in this December. But that’s getting ahead too quickly.

Anyway, I went out that morning after we celebrated my fifty-eighth birthday with friends back on June 16, 2005. Around sunrise I saw the full moon perched on my roof peak, so I got my camera and took a photo. Leahy used it on his book cover.

He wrote that I realized my life was finally balanced after thirty-six years of love and lust. He emphasized love like Homer did in the Odyssey, with Odysseus returning to his ever-faithful wife, Penelope.

Leahy wrote that one night as Joy and I were making love, the books scattered from the headboard, I yelled, All literature falls at your feet, Joy! And she responded, as we listened to Dean Martin on my living room stereo, "Dean Martin does it to me. But you, Danny O’Boy, I love the way you just do me!"

And in the last chapter, as Joy and I were making love, she called out the line that James Joyce ends Ulysses with, which coincidentally is set on June 16: Molly Bloom’s stream-of-consciousness yell, Yes! Yes! Yes! about memories of her first sexual encounter with her husband. But I’m telling you, love and lust continue to conflict in my life, and the slashed couch and shirts convince me that coincidence can lead to death. But at least Joy hasn’t used her Colt 45 revolver yet.

Here’s an innocent look at one of the Just Do Me! vases, where a happy couple meets.

Meet-Defeat%201.jpg

I continued around the house, amazed but amused by the weirdness of the slashed couch. Joy took everything else that Dan and I had moved from her house when she and I decided to live together. When I looked in my guest room, which she used as an office, and the closet, I saw that all of her clothes were gone. All she left was a knee-high pile of her geography textbooks. She even took my Cornell PhD robe that I needed for Palm City University’s graduation ceremony in a couple weeks. I couldn’t go naked to a politically correct university graduation. Not politically correct!

Everywhere I looked, the house felt raped like the night that black guy with a knife broke into my apartment in Tampa and shocked me awake. The guy tied me up, threatening to kill me. He yelled, Call me a woman. Get me laid or die, Whitey! Sex does amuse. But Joy worries me.

Here’s a photo of the backside of the vase I just showed you. This side worries me because who knows who may Just Do Me & Die!

Meet-Defeat%202.jpg

Soon after Dan left, I called the police to report the chaos.

When the officer arrived, I said, She broke into my house!

It’s her house too. You invited her to live with you.

She blew outta here yesterday, didn’t answer my phone calls. So I locked that old doorknob figuring a decent woman would at least call to tell me what she was doing.

You had her stuff. She wanted it back. So she has the right to break in. Happens a lot, he insisted, looking around.

Guess planning to get married in Ireland isn’t the charm I thought it would be. She took my CDs and DVDs—and my journal! My graduation gown is gone. And she slashed several shirts, including one that I wore when I took her to dinner for her birthday. Isn’t that illegal? I asked, my emotions in turmoil.

You’ve got an issue there. Clearly she knows how to use a knife. Does she have a gun?

I pictured the silver Colt 45 revolver she kept under her bed at her house. The whole thing was getting bizarre.

Yeah, she has a gun and insists she knows how to use it.

You ought to change that dead bolt and get an attorney. She sounds dangerous.

Thanks for agreeing. Are you married? I asked to amuse him.

That’s a private question. No comment, he said seriously.

My guess is yes. I’ll leave you alone. But does she get to keep the $15,000 dollar Tiffany engagement ring I gave her? Seems to me she broke our engagement. Guess my judgment about women needs refinement. So I can’t press charges for breaking and entering? How about getting the ring back?

I told you, she had the right to break in; it was her house. You can report the lost and damaged goods, but get an attorney.

I just shook my head slowly and thanked the officer. I watched him walk toward the barking dog across the street, chained to my neighbor Ms. Weirdo’s tree. The dog continued to dig a trench at the chain’s end when he barked at passersby. I’m angry that old woman who lives in the rented house ignores her barking dog and my