Barney: The Likeable Demon

By Thomas O. P. Sweeney

Bob Wallace is a good man who has just endured a horrifying event. A short time after his daughter died, Bob heads to a local coffee shop to sort out his thoughts. When a stranger approaches his table and asks to join him, Bob has no idea of the man’s motive. As Bob reluctantly listens, the man explains he is seeking out the grief-stricken. His employer has the capability to go back in time and erase people, not just their memory, in order to ease the pain of loss. All he has to do is agree and then the man will disappear, along with any indication that Bob’s daughter ever existed. When Bob refuses, he believes he will never see the man again. But five months later when the man reappears, the torment begins. Barney, who appears to be a likeable fellow, takes Bob on a mind-boggling tour through religion, politics, and morality. But what Bob does not know is that there is more to Barney than he realizes. Barney’s employer is an enigma. He/she has two manifestations: one is beautiful and deadly; the other is suave and charming. Both are evil. Barney is the tale of a grief-stricken middle-aged father’s life-altering experiences after he encounters a charming stranger with a plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Apr 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781489722225

Thomas O. P. Sweeney

Thomas O. P. Sweeney graduated from the United States Military Academy at West Point. He earned an MBA from Southern Illinois University-Edwardsville, served in the US Army in Germany and the United States, and worked in management in the chemical industry in Illinois and Texas. He resides with his wife, Jennifer, in Frisco, Texas. His first book, My Dearest Christina: A Father Remembers his Daughter and her Battle with Lupus, was published in 2017.

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 Thomas O. P. Sweeney.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.

LifeRich Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.liferichpublishing.com

1 [phone]

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.

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.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-2223-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-2224-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-2222-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019903330

LifeRich Publishing rev. date:  04/08/2019

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Characters

Author’s Note

Prologue

Plano, Texas

Barney’s Story

Plano, Texas

Atlanta, Georgia

Frisco, Texas

The Retreat House

Barney’s Story

The Retreat House

Barney’s Story

The Retreat House

Barney’s Story

The Retreat House

New Hampshire Seacoast

Phil’s Body Shop

New Hampshire Seacoast

Frisco, Texas

The Café – Frisco, Texas

Paris – Late 19Th Century

The Café – Frisco, Texas

Paris – Late 19Th Century

The Café – Frisco, Texas

The Steakhouse

Frisco, Texas

Washington, Dc

United States Capitol Building

Washington, Dc

United States Capitol Building

Washington, Dc

The Cemetery In Frisco

Frisco, Texas

"I could not love thee, Dear, so much,

Lov’d I not Honour more."

Richard Lovelace – 1649

To Lucasta, Going to the Warres

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my wife, Jennifer, without whom my life would not have been so rich, complete, interesting and fun. I thank her for her support, patience, and love for all of these years.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I want to thank two good friends, Monseigneur William Hitpas and Christopher Roche, for their help with this book. They both read the early drafts, and their comments were invaluable. More importantly they both encouraged me to finish Barney’s story and not give up. Their support meant a lot to me. Their friendship means even more to me.

CHARACTERS

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This book is a work of pure fiction. With the exception of the section about France in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, all characters and events are the products of my imagination. Any similarity with real persons or events is purely coincidental. Some of the locations in the book are real, some are not. Some of the businesses mentioned in the book existed at one time but are now out of business, and some are pure fiction. I will leave it to the reader to sort out fact from fantasy.

I am not a theologian. The extent of my theological training is courtesy of the Sisters of St. Joseph at a parish school outside of Philadelphia, PA in fifth through eighth grades. These good ladies did a magnificent job of educating students in less than optimal conditions. For example, my class had one nun and fifty-four students. We were one of the smallest classes in terms of the number of students. We learned, and we learned well. Religion, Math, Reading, English and Grammar as well as Poetry and Geography were among the subjects which were poured into us.

I am a devout Roman Catholic. I am also Irish. I love a good story. I have never been bound by facts in telling a story. If facts get in the way of the story, I get rid of the facts (or at least modify them to fit).

I introduced Barney in my first book, My Dearest Christina. I thought that he might have an interesting story to tell. It will be up to the readers to agree or disagree.

The world is full of heartbreak and tragedy. The events we have witnessed since 2017 underscore that statement. Certain things come up in this book which also made headlines in 2017 and the following years. I had written a good portion of this book before these events exploded in the headlines. I did not go back and modify or alter the story. I left things as I wrote them, for better or worse, and with no apologies. I did however allow Barney to run rampant in the Capitol Building during the recent confirmation hearings for an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. I don’t think he had any affect one way or the other, but one never knows.

PROLOGUE

My name is Robert Wallace. Most folks call me Bob. My daughter died in January, and as a result I entered a period of unbelievable funk. On one particular morning shortly after her death I just had to get away and be alone. I went for a drive. I was driving through a part of Frisco, Texas I had not been to before. It was a bright, sunny yet chilly day a week or so after her funeral. I passed one of the yuppie coffee shops that seem to be everywhere. For some incomprehensible reason I pulled into the parking lot and went inside. I went to the counter and ordered a large black coffee. The kid behind the counter looked at me with a lost stare on his face. After several awkward seconds he told me that they did not have that on the menu. I was shocked. Not being known for my patience, I wanted to verbally berate him and his ancestors, but fortunately I was able to barely refrain myself. I was able to convince him to verify with his manager the fact that they did not serve black coffee.

The young man returned in a few minutes and admonished me for using the wrong terminology and that they did in fact have what I wanted albeit under a different and very strange sounding name. He further went on to inform me that not many people order my selection. Most go for the more exotic concoctions. After an interminable wait, my coffee appeared at the other side of the counter. I surrendered, walked to the other side of the counter, meekly retrieved my large black coffee and looked for an open table to sit and think.

The coffee shop was about half full and reasonably quiet. I went to an empty table, sat down and mindlessly sipped my large black coffee. I honestly didn’t even taste it. I started to pray to my daughter and for my daughter. I cussed out God for taking her, for all of her pain and suffering in her life, and for all the pain those of us left behind were experiencing. Why? Why? Why? Mostly I was just staring straight ahead. People in the shop must have thought I was in a trance.

My eyes were closed when I heard a voice asking if the seat opposite me was taken. Two things surprised me. The first was that there were empty tables in the shop. Seating was not at a premium. The second being I am not what most people would consider approachable. I am a hard ass. I don’t play well with others. I opened my eyes to see a man of about fifty standing before me. He was one of those people who radiate likability like George Clooney or Tom Hanks. I honestly don’t remember anything else about him: height, weight, color of eyes or hair, nothing other than that he was likeable. I was in no mood for likability. I wanted silence and solace. I pointedly glanced about to some of the empty tables, but this guy did not pick up on my subtle suggestion. Without waiting for an official response like get away from me or go play in traffic he pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down.

I cradled the cup of coffee in both hands and shut my eyes willing him to get bored and leave. I have no idea how long I remained like that, but it seemed a good while. I finally opened my eyes and there he was just like before, sitting there looking at me. He said that he knew I had just lost my daughter and that I was experiencing pure agony. I just looked at the guy, not believing he was actually intruding, uninvited, upon my space. Oblivious to the hostility that I was sending in his direction, he said he could help me. I ignored him. The last thing I wanted or needed at that moment was to hear religious verses or platitudes about her being in a better place. How the heck would this clown know? Undaunted he said that he worked for someone who specialized in cases like this. I’m thinking cases like what.

He explained that his employer was on the lookout for people who were grieving after a loved one departed this earth. Not everyone qualified. In fact, the percentage of those qualified was unbelievably low. He flashed a wide smile on me and said that I should be proud that she met all of the criteria.

I’m thinking OK, here it comes, the sales pitch. He must have read my mind. He chuckled and told me to relax. There was no fee for his services. His employer had the ability go back in time and erase people. That is not erasing the memory of a person to ease the pain. It is erasing the person. Period! Erasing the memory still leaves traces that cause pain and longing and applies only to one person. Others who knew the deceased will still feel pain. By erasing the person, that person never existed. No one misses her. No one feels pain. Life goes on. Since I was Christina’s father I was in a position to agree to this service. All I had to do was agree then he would disappear and presto, Christina never existed. I sighed deeply, picked up my coffee, closed my eyes, and wished to God that this creep would leave me alone.

I must have zoned out for some period of time thinking about my daughter. When I mentally returned to the coffee shop, I remember the jerk across from me going on about how if she never existed how much more money I would have today. The cost of caring for her, her education, her wedding and all of the little things would suddenly show up in my bank account. The pain and suffering that all of us in her family as well as all who knew her were going through would be gone. Opportunities like this don’t come by often, if at all. I would be the ultimate sucker if I didn’t jump at the opportunity he was presenting.

I did my best to ignore him, but he persisted. I found myself wondering if his boss could make someone go away, disappear, never exist, why didn’t he do it with people like Hitler, Stalin or that sadistic, little phat phocker in North Korea. Those folks and people like them truly put evil, misery and suffering in the world. They had no socially redeeming value. The world would be much better if they had never existed. Then it hit me. I knew who his boss was. He did not want to erase people like them. They served his purpose. He couldn’t go after people like Mother Theresa because she was too big and too popular. I am sure he tried to derail her along her path to sainthood, but he couldn’t erase her after she died. My daughter, on the other hand, was a small fish in a big ocean. She was known to only a comparatively small number of people. Erasing her would not change history. Erasing her would only make the world less happy, less bright, and less good. It was exactly what he wanted, what he worked for.

His boss does not want beauty. He does not want kindness and gentleness. He wants gloom and darkness. He wants misery and despair. He is a big fan of Soviet era architecture with its plain, grey, shabby, shoddy and depressing buildings. Taking my daughter and her memory away accomplishes his mission in a small way, and small ways ultimately lead to bigger ways.

The second I knew with whom I was dealing, I simultaneously jumped to my feet, still clutching the coffee, yelled You miserable son of a bitch as loudly as I could, and opened my eyes. I was yelling at an empty chair. I looked around at the other customers in the coffee shop. They were all staring at me with open mouths as if I had lost my mind. I sat back down and noticed that my large black coffee was still hot. I turned to the couple sitting at a nearby table and asked where the guy sitting across from me went. They replied What guy. They said they had been there for a few minutes before I came in. I sat down and started staring into space as if I were in a trance. No one was in the seat across from me while they were there. They told me that I sat there for a minute or two staring and holding the coffee in both hands when I suddenly jumped up and yelled. They said they were totally startled by my outburst. With that, I excused myself for startling them and left the coffee shop.

As I drove away I knew that creep was trying to erase the memory of a totally wonderful and beautiful person, a person I unconditionally loved. I was pissed. I was determined that I would do everything in my power to keep her memory fresh and alive for those fortunate few who knew her. I also wanted to introduce her to those who were not so lucky as to know her but could benefit from the story of her life. I decided to write a book about her, and I did.

After that encounter, I thought about Mr. Likeable from time to time but never dwelt upon him. As I said, I couldn’t even describe him. My memory of him was growing dimmer with each passing day. Good riddance to him and his employer.

PLANO, TEXAS

FIVE MONTHS LATER on a sunny June day I had to drive my wife, Sophia, into Plano, TX for an appointment. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was going to push close to 100 degrees. Her appointment was at 11:30 A.M. These appointments normally lasted for an hour and a half to two hours. Not far from the site of her appointment is a world class bar-b-que joint. They have the best brisket and pulled pork imaginable. My plan was to drop her off, grab some bar-b-que and then, after her appointment, for us to head to our community pool to beat the heat. The first part of my plan worked perfectly. I dropped her off at the doctor’s office.

I then proceeded the three or four blocks to the restaurant. I didn’t think it would be overly crowded at 11:30, and it wasn’t. The lot was only half full. I am a car guy, and the Dallas area is like heaven. There are so many exotic cars on the road that sometimes my head spins. Parked in the lot was a Maserati Gran Turismo Sport. It was Rosso Trionfale (metallic red) and had a black leather interior with rosso stitching. It was drop dead gorgeous. I found a parking spot several slots away and walked over to this vision of perfection. I saw the distinctive trident which is the symbol of Maserati. I got as close as I could to the car without touching it. I did my very best not to drool on it, and I barely succeeded. I peered in every window, relishing the view. I was mesmerized and seriously in love. I had flashes of me driving this on the curving roads in the Alps or flying flat out on the Autobahns in Deutschland. I finally forced myself to back away and get back to reality. As I started to turn I noticed the license plate,I figured someone had a sense of humor. I turned and entered the restaurant to be greeted by the fragrant aroma of hickory smoke.

41050.png

I was also greeted by the sight of Mr. Likeable sitting by himself at a table. This time I made certain to note what I was looking at. He had a very pleasant face. He looked to be about 5’ 10", early 50’s with medium length dark hair that was going gray. His eyes were gray. He had facial hair that was going gray. Everything about the guy was gray, inoffensive and plain. He was in other words totally likable. He wouldn’t hurt a flea or cause any distress. I’d say he had an average build. He wasn’t thin or heavy. He wasn’t a jock. He was….average. He was dressed in a perfectly coordinated shirt and shorts outfit with leather sandals. He had a gold chain around his neck. I could picture him walking straight out