Collect Call: A compilation of short stories and poems of the times

By E Lloyd Kelly

Seasoned with snippets of Jamaican Patois inserted here and there throughout, as may be found fitting. Yeah man, no doubt, a Jamaica yaad mi cum fram. Sorry, I meant to say, I'm Jamaican-born and bred, okay? Most of these stories and poems have been published as stand-alone pieces over the years but this is your chance at getting them all in one

• Language: English
• Publisher: E Lloyd Kelly
• Release date: Jul 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781778263798

E Lloyd Kelly

E Lloyd Kelly is an Author, poet, and blogger. Born in Jamaica, West Indies, to Raglan and Alma Kelly. Now resides in Montreal Quebec where (when not writing,) he drives a shuttle bus between campuses at McGill University

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Description

Collect Call is a collection of short stories and poems of the times. Told from a Carib-Jamericanadian perspective. With a twisted comedic edge, poetry, double entendre, and sensational spellings. Seasoned with snippets of Jamaican Patois inserted here and there throughout, as may be found fitting. Yeah man, no doubt, a Jamaica yaad mi cum fram. Sorry, I meant to say, I'm Jamaican-born and bred, okay? Most of these stories and poems have been published as stand-alone pieces over the years but this is your chance at getting them all in one place. So here for you is; Collect Call.

PART ONE

Some Shitty Vacation

A short story

Introduction

Some Shitty Vacation, is a fictional story about a vacationing hitman from the narcotics underworld who found himself being drawn back into the very situation he was trying to escape in the first place. His escape plan was for both the short as well as the long term. He had planned on using this short-term trip to Montreal, to research further his long-term get-out plan, the one that he had been considering in recent times. The road leads from Norfolk, VA to Montreal Quebec, and back. But some people just can't seem to get a learning break, can they?

Some shitty vacation is a story of war, drugs, and second chances. So you never know what might be coming next. Stay tuned, therefore, and keep your sheet firmly under your own two feet.

This is the first of many such short stories in this collection.

1

Chapter 1: The Turners

He was out early in the morning, as usual, plowing. Mrs. Turner though, his wife, and the matriarch of the Turner clan as they're known, was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Cooking, cleaning, and banging pots and pans for them, nothing unusual. Lance was in the bathroom taking a shower, preparing to go off to school within the next hour. Reggie was not there; he had long gone off to university. Lidia was probably still asleep. She's never been the early riser type. Out of the window, Lance could see the tractor or more like the headlights of the tractor. It was streaking along as it passed back and forth, like always. But then something caught his attention. Once, twice, how many times did he see it before he saw it? The tractor was there, in one position, (sort of.) It was shaking, the headlights plastered up against frozen evergreens partly covered under a patchy dusting of snow. But the tractor was not moving in the normal manner. It was, like, just there, shaking.

Lance rubbed the soft side of the clenched fist of his right hand across the icy cold pane of the glass window. While shading the corner of his eye from the glare of the interior lights with the left hand he pared out through the dawning. Ma… he shouted, at the top of his lungs, Ma, it's dad… somethings wrong, something's wrong with him. Moments later, he was out of the shower chamber and quick in wrapping himself in a large bath towel he'd grabbed on the run, running down the stairs. Out the back door behind his mother who was already halfway across the yard, oh dear! and heading towards the danger zone, yes, the place where the tractor was. With the motor still running, and the gears still engaged. This was made obvious to him by the effects of the still spinning wheel and the hole that was being dug into the ground by the said spinning wheel motion. Lance was halfway across the yard himself when he realized that he wasn't wearing any shoes to add to the improper mode of attire. To add to the partly naked rest of his body I mean. He was wearing nothing but the bath towel that he had wrapped around himself on the way out. For modesty rather than for protection from the cold. The cold, though, wasn't wasting any time waiting to remind him what a big mistake that was. He was freezing off his buzz, and fast. But he could not turn back, Not now, he's got to get to his father and get him help. His dad was in trouble, he knew it, big trouble. He got to the tractor and hence, to his father's side before his mother. For which he did make a mental note to thank the lord, or somebody else, later. That's because he didn't want to even think about what might happen if she should get there before him. With the motor still running and the gears still engaged. Lance climbed up and that was the first thing he had to do; disengage the transmission and then shut down the engine. His father was sitting there. He was slumped over in the driver's seat, seemingly, lifeless. Dad! Dad! Are you okay, can you hear me?

His mother by then, had climbed up onto the machine and was helping to bear him up into a sitting position properly. But his body was limp and heavy. She pinched his nose and slapped his cheeks, after which he managed to squeeze out a rather breathy, hmm… like this. Let's get him inside, she said.

Not a bad idea at all, since Lance was by then feeling the full effects of his folly. He was freezing solid and fast. His feet were begging to cramp up. It felt to him as if he was walking on the outer sides of his feet with his toes curved inward and popping while being pierced with a very sharp knife from underneath. Lance reached over and double-checked that he'd switched off the engine, but the headlights were still on.

They managed to get him down off the tractor, foot first. Mrs. Turner held his feet while Lance's arms grabbed the crooks of the armpits, they carried him inside. They laid him flat out on the kitchen floor as Mrs. Turner got on the phone and called for the never on time, paramedics. Lance was shaking and shivering but he was still busy at work. He still wanted to be of help. Go put some clothes on, said his mother to him, as she reached across and turned the heater on and up to the full blast. Get me some warm towels and a blanket too while you're at it.

The morning was clearing out, soon it will be sunrise. Lidia was up too, and she (seemingly) had no idea that she'd almost awaken to a situation where she would be as of now, as of this day even, she would be fatherless. After having gone to bed with both parents very much alive and kicking. She had to make herself useful as soon as she was brought up to date on the matter too. Things were going from bad to worse. First, there was one, now there are two, as seen through Mrs. Turner's eyes that she was seeing them through. Lance was by then feeling as if his blood was turning to icicles inside him. Even though he had by then gotten himself dressed in some of his warmest clothes. Or more like all, all of them, all of his warm clothes. From coats, scarves, and sweaters, all the way down to socks and boots, all at once and worn together. His body, though, seemed hell-bent on staying frozen. He was still very much into the task of caring for his father though.

With his shaking, trembling, shivering lips and cracking voice. He was telling them; his mother and sister who had, (by then,) joined in on the efforts to resuscitate, revive, and care for dad. What they needed to do as if he was the physician there. While they were there waiting for the arrival of the (never on-time) ambulance. Based on how he was feeling, or not feeling, (as it were,) due to the numbness in his hands. His feet too, and increasingly spreading throughout the rest of his body. He assumed that his father, (who had been out there in the cold for much longer than he was.) He most certainly would have been too cold for his good too, he thought. But his mother was quick in reminding him that, your father was appropriately dressed for the outdoors as opposed to you who had up and ran outside practically naked. Lidia, surprisingly, didn't turn out to be half bad in her resourcefulness either. She quickly reached over to turn the stove on, but it was already on, thanks to Mom. She then reset the oven dial to 450 degrees and then popped the door open. That did help in speeding up the warmth in the living room. To the relief of Lance and, (if no one else,) his father, he was sure. Thank goodness.

- -

What's to become of us now, of our entire life? Where did we go wrong? Mrs. Turner lamented. While rubbing her palms together on her lap and looking astray. She wasn't looking at her husband on this day, the questions too, were rhetorical. She, of all people, knew the deal; Leo (Daddy Turner) had done all that he could. He was a good father to his son. To all his children as a matter of fact and barring none. She wasn't sure of herself, wasn't sure of anything anymore. They, both of them, were starting to question things. He came rather late in their lives; they were both flirting with middle age when Lance arrived. She was thirty-nine and he was forty-one. They were married twenty years earlier. Leo had not gone to college as his older brother and sister did. He stayed home and helped his father on the farm. That was probably why his father willed it to him.

Reggie had managed to have received a good education and would have gone on to practice law. Look at him, he's doing quite well as it is. Lidia is studying medicine, but Lance just barely made it out of high school. It wasn't for the lack of potential or effort though. He just happened to be the one on whose shoulders the bad luck had happened to fall.

He had to man up quickly after his father got the stroke. Reggie had just started law school. Lidia was on her way through med school, and the family's resources were already very strained. They could have managed alright if things were to remain at the current levels, but when the stroke happened. That changed the whole game for the family. Lance was game, though, so he stepped up.

You are not going to drop out of no school, he told his brother frankly, we will manage here. I'll see to it if it kills me. He did step up to the plate and batted like a champion. He was closing in on sixteen then, and two years is a very long time in a teenage boy's life. Long enough for a lot of things to change and they did. Not all for the worse though.

Reggie did manage to secure the scholarship he wanted, and other funding for himself. As for Lidia? She got herself a husband a year later. A husband who not only loved her world without end. But one whose pocket is rather deep and he doesn't mind it one bit in reaching down into those deep pockets to give her whatever she wanted. What she wants now more than anything else is a good education. So, education it is. She's getting a rather elite type of education. Lance, on the other hand, was quick to discover that he wasn't cut out for the farmer-type of lifestyle either. Or he wasn't quite ready for it, yet. He did manage to endure it for upwards of two years but no longer than that. As soon as he was of age, legally, he skipped the scene. Of course, he could have quit at any time, any time he liked. No one could have stopped him from doing so, really. But his mother had concluded that; he waited until he was of full legal age to leave because, he believed, (and rightly so.) He believed that we would have done any and everything to try and prevent him from leaving, and he wanted to be on the right side of the law when that day comes, she'd said. Was she right or what? How ironic though, oh how things have changed. That was then, but this is now.

2

Chapter 2: After the stroke of midnight.

Lance stopped off for a while in Ohio. But he didn't tarry there. A farm boy from Jackson, Michigan, this city wasn't very much to his liking. Heck, no city was quite to his liking yet, so he moved on. Not knowing for sure what he was looking for at the time and being a freshman on the scene. He quickly got himself into some rather messy and unpleasant situations. But then, he bumped into Loise, literally. Which was in itself one of the biggest of the messes.

Hey! Watch where you're going - will you? shouted Mister Personality. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… Sorry.

You're going to be really sorry if you don't watch where you're going and what you're doing around here - dude. His six-pack abs bursting out from under the tight-fitted t-shirt was even scarier than the bone-crushing grip he'd plastered on the back of Lance's neck. Her boyfriend was quick to respond, quicker than Lance could even figure out how deep in he was. Just like an attack dog, a pit bull, perhaps. He was about to break Lance's neck. Man! Is he that insecure? Or is it the way things are done in these parts? Lance wondered while rubbing the back of his neck.

It's okay, hey, it's okay man, I'm aright. He's just a kid, a frightened kid, Loise blurted out at him. Lance staggered across a trashcan trying to balance himself up against the bus stop.

Hi! She said, Loise. While holding out a hand in greeting, I'm sorry about that. He's just in a bad mood today, don't hold it against him. What are you doing loitering around out here, are you okay? Can't recall seeing you before, are you from around here? A million and one questions coming at him at lightning speed.

Can we go now? Mr. Sulky-face prompted. Loise, Loise, can we go?

Here, she said, on the spinning back and forth of her gaze between those two, the two who were there and wearing pants, and cowboy boots. If you ever need to talk, she said, if you need help or anything, don't hesitate to call, okay?

Okay, thank you miss. She quickly caught up with him as Lance watched them walk away, side-by-side. She was looking back periodically before they turned the corner and out of sight. That card she gave him, there, look, it's tucked in between Lance's fingers now, and reads, Loise Arquette, counselor, and mentor, Saint Jude's boys' school.

Yeah! I'm sure she would like to take a jab at mentoring me, said Lance to nobody, while walking away in the opposite direction. Leaving the card there in the rubbish bin where he'd tossed it. It was there, though, the hungry eyes, the longing look in the way she stared at him. Even while walking away, stride for strides beside Mr. Sulky-face. It was not his kind of place though, he knew right away, nothing about it had beckoned. By morning, he would have been gone on to some other place, somewhere else, and searching for something else. Whatever 'it' is that I'm going to find out here, it will have to be somewhere down the road. This long and winding road leads out of this town, so, 'somewhere else,' here I come. Whatever 'it' is, it sure is not here, not for Lancelot Turner. Too close, perhaps, to Jackson, Michigan, and a neck injury for his comfort

- -

A steady stream of headlights was reflecting off the slightly descending wet road surface. This owing to the effect of some earlier moisture in the air and a slight rain on the pitter-pattering surface of the roadways. It looked very much to him like the rich creamy flowing milk being poured out from the carton container and into the bowl half-full of crispy golden-brown cornflakes, by his loving mother. His eyes and mental state had not yet gotten adjusted and acclimatized to be functioning in sync with the recent time change over to daylight savings time.

Traffic on this side of the highway, (the eastern side,) was few and far between. As opposed to a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam on the westbound side. Lance could discern by way of the images in the rearview mirror, the outline of a pickup truck following him. Its headlights were by then occupying somewhat of a permanent spot in the frame of his rearview mirror. Behind that vehicle, was another one that he was not able to decide on in any way, shape, or form, other than that, it was sporting one functioning headlight.

At first, he thought it was a motorcycle, due to the fact of the single headlight and all. But the yellow hazard lights on either corner of the front area of the vehicle, helped him to decide the matter, yes, it was a much larger vehicle than a motorcycle. The mist had suddenly changed over to a slight drizzling rain. Lance couldn't shake the image from his mind, that of the cornflakes in his favorite bowl. With circles of evenly cut ripe bananas placed on top of the flakes by his mother, before she poured on the milk. He reached over and picked up the phone from where it was sitting there in the second cup holder on the dashboard. Humming still, the little refrain he had been singing from deep within him. He hit the menu button on the phone and then punched in a series of numbers with his thumb; tap-tap-tap, somewhat like that, to unlock the device. Then with a few other strikes of the thumb, he dialed up his mother, Mom, he said, how are you?

Lance, where on earth are you? And what could it possibly be that you're doing that could be so important that you can't find even a minute to call home? His mother chided him.

That's exactly what I'm doing now - Mom, haven't you noticed?

Don't be cute with me - boy.

How are you doing my sweet Mamma? Long time no see, said Lance, in an attempt at pacifying the situation by changing the subject at once. I've been very busy of late - Mom, he continued when she didn't respond further. But we should be seeing each other soon.

That's exactly what you said the last time too, but you didn't show up. Did you? Thanksgiving also came and went; you didn't show up either. Will you be here for Christmas? I hardly think so.

I'll be there - Mom, I will be there for Christmas. I hope. He whispered this ending part rather unconvincingly. How's dad? he asked, after the extended pause… Ma, how's dad doing?"

Your father is doing fine - Lance, he's doing just fine.

Is he there, can I talk to him?

Here, he heard her say, as she handed him the phone.

Lance… his father grunted on his arrival on the phone-conversational scene. How, how, how are you, I mean…?

I'm fine dad, I'm fine, and you?

Fine, fine. What have you been up to of late? I hope you've managed to get your life in some sort of order by now and thinking about settling down. You can't continue to run around like a rolling stone you know…

Dad, I'm doing okay, don't be worrying yourself too much about those sorts of things, I've got this all covered, okay? I'm actually on the road now though dad, just called to say 'hi.' I should be seeing you guys very soon. I've got a few things to take care of first and then I'll be home. I've got to run now. I'll talk to you guys later - alright?

Bye Lance.

Bye Dad, bye. He had to cut short the call way before he really wanted to because… It came as a bit of a surprise to him; the beep, beep, beeping sounds coming from the special alarm system. The system that was installed on the SUV he was driving. Not that he didn't know that it was there, no. But maybe it had something to do with that exchange there, between him and his folks, his parents? It took him back for a brief moment to a calmer, gentler place, and far away from the kind of life he now leads. The harshness of this new existence belied the small-town kid that his parents had raised who, without prior warning. He just up and left mere days after his 18th birthday. They'd sought him out and found him there where he was, hanging out with a rowdy bunch of malefactors in the city seven hundred miles away. They tried hard at talking some sense into him, trying to convince him to return home with them but, to no avail. Nothing worked for them in that regard. They would have even gone to the police in a last-ditch effort to try and force his hands but, he's of age, the lawmen said, he can do whatever he wants.

The beeper system on the vehicle was what sounded off the alarm. All of Manny's vehicles were equipped with special surveillance systems, the same as this one right here as a matter of fact, that I'm now sitting in. It is usually disabled until it is needed for special operations. Operations such as the one that Lance had just finished doing a day and a half ago. He'd somehow forgotten, or neglected to deactivate the system on his vehicle before leaving out on this part work part play, road trip. Lance was going on a well-earned vacation, a get-a-way of sorts, from the grinds of the everyday hustle. However, Manny, after learning that Lance would be crossing the border over into Canada on this trip. Manny (the man,) asked him (as a favor to him,) to pick up some special cargo for him on the way back. Very reluctant though he was, at first. Upon learning that the content of the package that he was to take back with him, was in fact currency, and not merchandise as he'd thought. And after further being made assured by Manny, of a very fat payday upon his return - just for doing that, he agreed. After all, it wasn't like Lance was a stranger to that kind of work. He would have done those types of assignments many times before. Even with weightier kinds of stuff than currency. So, the only reason for him to be a bit hesitant at first, was because - this was his well-earned vacation time. His R&R break and he wasn't in the mood to be mixing business with pleasures, not this time. The bonus, though, that he stands to receive upon his return home with the pile of cash for his boss, could add up to be more than enough to cover what he had budgeted for the trip. Even with enough leftovers for him to be able to make good on his promise to his parents to be home for Christmas and do so in comfort. It was a win-win for everyone on every side, not much to complain about there.

It didn't take very long for Lance to begin putting two and two together, to start figuring out what it might have been that had caused the alarm system to go sounding off. Either he was being set up by someone, most likely by his boss - Manny (the man.) Or maybe it was a case of someone being on the run, someone who had already been marked for death and tagged. In which case, (by the way,) that would make this a top job for somebody, someone the likes of Lancelot, just for example.

He pulled the vehicle over and stopped to study the system charts and to try and see if he could determine from whence the signal had come. As it turned out, it was from a location somewhere way up ahead. Somewhere close to the city of Montreal, but not quite there, in proper. Before doing anything further, Lance has got a very important call to make. So, he did, he had already started to piece together in his mind the scheme of things as they might have been that would have caused the current situation. But he needed to report back to base for instructions on what, (if anything) he needed to do and to find out what's in it to gain, for him. He dialed the usual numbers, hung up the phone, and waited. That's the custom in this neck of the hood. It goes something like this: Never call directly to the big man's regular phone under any circumstance. Instead, call the special number that is only used for very important and urgent matters, say your phone number using a special cryptic code, and then, hang up, and wait. One seldom needs to wait very long for the return call, and never comes from any familiar number. Never twice from any one number either. As usual, it didn't take long. The phone vibrated signaling the incoming call.

Delivering service in style, Lance answered the phone in his customary way. Just like he usually does for this type of call. Man-man's pizzeria, he said.

Have you got mushroom pizza? asked the voice on the other end.

Yes, but I'm a long way out of town, and my device is ringing off the hook. The calls are coming in nonstop.

Where exactly are you? asked 'the voice.'

I'm on the north side of town, already over the bridge and trying to get to the addresses of all those hungry callers. Do you know anything about those calls?

Hell yes, I know them alright but, we'll talk about it later. Go do what you've got to do, those are special orders don't you think?

Ride on, said Lance before he hung up, ending the call.

---

Anastasia has been on the run, running for over a year. The fact that Manny, with all of his world-class networking systems, and technical savvy, had not been able to locate and bring her back home to Norfolk, VA, to face up to the music and dance, is all part and parcel, more testimonials to the caliber of her wit and resourcefulness.

She (somehow) seemed to have committed a breach of some sort, or had run afoul of the big man, one way or another, and had to take off running, for her very life. No one (at least not Lance) had been able to say for sure, what the issue might have been that led to these things, the current states-of-affairs. But for her to pick up and take off. Seemingly, disappearing into thin air, without a trace, it meant that this was big, huge.

Most people might be somewhat inclined to go staking out the usual hot spots in these sorts of situations, you know. Like, those sheik places where the rich and famous usually go