Love and Starbucks for the Grieving to Replenish the Soul (She never fails to please me)

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I have to have my Starbucks. I'm drawn to the little green logo whenever I see it along the roadways and highways. The green logo sign replaced the sight of the McDonald's Golden Arches long ago. You know the giant yellow "M" you'd see traveling down the road, causing your glands to salivate. You'd beg one of the rational parents to stop in hopes of some French fries only to be told, "No, there's nothing they have that I can't cook at home."

The green and white sign is as lucky to find as any four-leaf clover you may stumble upon in a pasture out on a leisurely stroll. The mermaid's face smiling because she knows she has you. The squiggly lines that make up her hair get me caught in a trance, speaking to me, convincing me, "Chris, turn your grey minivan in here. Drown your misery and sorrow in my perfectly great tasting white mocha, extra hot with one Splenda, or how about a hot Vanilla Chi or maybe a Carmel Macchiato."

How I have to make that turn. "Oh," my little green mermaid says, "I forgot the light whip." She had me at "Chris."

I have invested more money in that little green sign in the last few months. More than I care to remind myself by looking at my bank statement. It is the one thing I look forward to when I head out and about with the boys. The one thing my mouth takes comfort in as I take a sip from the white top that is made perfectly for my pursed lips. Because of the hot liquid that is begging to come out, I gently place my tongue in the hole to avoid losing a single drop as I tilt her up, allowing gravity to let her flow to me. Once I feel the warmth of the liquid from those grounded cocoa beans on the tip of my tongue, I remove it from the oval hole punched on the top of the lid, allowing her warmth to enter me and drown my sorrows away.

I close my eyes as my body heats up. Sweat beads on my brow and trickle down my face. I wipe it away using my shirt. She's not done yet; I have yet to taste her whipped cream. It's the best part. Just the right amount to sweeten my latte and liven my day. It doesn't get any better than that.

After a few sips, I adjust her brown cardboard sleeve to line up with the rest of the cup because I want to keep her white skin modest. The brown cover slides down like a slip, but the strapless cover isn't too revealing; it is just enough to tease but enough to see the white cup.

The cup is still too hot to touch, so I only grab her when ready. I bring her to me slow and steady, careful not to manhandle her as I bring her in so I don't get burned if she accidentally pours out.

I have enjoyed her a few times but needed more of her this time, so I ordered a venti. I know deep down I still haven't received my fill, but she's still giving me her all until the last drop. Starbucks has plenty of stores around, and I am always on the prowl, ready to enjoy my next latte, which helps me find comfort because life has me feeling down.

Once I've finished the pleasure of her company indicated by her empty cup, I know I'll reminisce about how tasty she was because of her constant reminder that will tingle and tease my taste buds to the point that I'll have no choice but to seek out the little green mermaid that dots the shopping plazas and strip malls along the landscape to experience her once again.

It's in times of my grieving I have to seek out the love in something that can bring me some comfort. And now I just need the love of my Starbucks because she pours her passion into me without fail every single time.

690 words

https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Above image found here: http://hawaiiccw.com/news/support-starbucks-valentines-day/

I Smile, for You

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August 8th, 2012

I don't know you. And well, you can't tell me. But there is a reason why we were brought together. You may have stumbled upon my Blog, or it was recommended by someone who thought it might help you in your time of need. To know that you aren't alone. So, more than likely, we share one thing in common: loss or maybe some kind of tragedy in your lifetime that was traumatic and not necessarily a loss. Still, you connect with me in some way.

The hardest thing about losing someone is how real your loved one still feels, even in death. They are here in the flesh because their memory is still so strong in our hearts and minds. The most challenging part about having a traumatic experience is that no one understands the depths of the pain it has caused you and your family. Not even you can try to explain something so personal because someone else would rather pretend it's not a big deal. I was once told in a roundabout way- besides your loss, why is life so hard for you?

For people who haven't felt actual loss, or for some who decided to hide their feelings deep down within themselves so they won't ever have to look at it again, it's hard for them to fathom why so many of us grieve so profoundly and so painfully. Many people who haven't dealt with loss are happy not to be in our situation, and rightfully so. I'd never want anyone to feel this, but someday, unfortunately, they will.

The thing is, though, the ones who are not affected by the pain or the misery, like some of us, who are grieving the loss of a loved one, should not lose the compassion that they had in the days after they heard the news about the death or significant life-changing event. But the sad fact is, people will. Their compassion will wane significantly if your pain affects them, whether personally or professionally, and they will want you to move on and get over it.

Many of us would rather hide in our safe cocoon that protects us because nobody else around our daily life is quite sure how to deal with us who are dealing with trauma. We are handling trauma the best we can, and there is nothing anyone can do to help other than support those in need. Yet some cannot even offer that. Do they not care? But if people want to figure out a way to help in some capacity, then the way to accommodate us is to just try to be empathetic. Understand that the person is too weak and vulnerable to ask for help or too proud to reach out. By knowing who I am, then you should allow my process to progress and evolve until the conclusion of my pain and misery and be understanding. Because I don't even know when that final conclusion will come.

The will to overcome the obstacles seems insurmountable because I have not had time to calculate what my total loss represents. The future is dark. And when I do think, it is about the time before my loss and the outlook of the future. Anything else in between is blurred. My wife will be gone for five months this August 15th, and I can tell you that if it wasn't for this Blog and my personal notes, I couldn't tell you where the time went. I am trapped between March 15th and August 15th. Yesterday, it was March 15th for me.

These just aren't my feelings. I have received hundreds and hundreds of emails from readers like you who tell me the same thing. "People do not understand the feeling that I deal with, so I smile daily because it comforts them."

Even in loss or traumatic experiences, the person grieving supports those who do not know what to say. And at night, when we are left alone with our thoughts, reliving the good times that seem like yesterday and the day of the loss like it is happening now, our mood never changes. It is still in the same place it was when our lives were changed forever.

I long to stand on my own two feet. To be able to grieve for my loss and have a moment's rest or vacation to get away, but I know for now at least that is not going to happen. So, in the meantime, in the middle of my grief, I will smile for those who feel better when they think that I am doing just fine because, in the end, that is what comforts you. Hopefully, eventually, it will comfort me.

788 words

https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please 

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Take Over, Your Story Part IV

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August 7th, 2012

R.T. wants to remain anonymous. R.T. used the Design Your Story Submission Form section and told me he wanted a sci-fi story. He let me run with it and I ended up with a series here. So, here is part I, I hope you enjoy R.T. and thanks for your submission. It keeps me busy and I love connecting with my readers and subscribers

 *Warning some content me be disturbing to some and graphic.

"I’ll be standing by the main phone until you call. I think I am the only one left in the world with no cell phone. Talk to you soon. Bye-bye.” Tommy leans down to place the phone back on the cradle.

He leans forward as the hand of the creepy figure reaches over him like a hook. Tommy places the phone receiver down on the base. As he leans back the hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him back violently.

“AHHHH”, Tommy screams.

Part IV

Sheriff Blake searched the internet for Clara, but could not locate her in Kansas.

"Where are you Clara," he says out loud, "if that's even your name."

He sits in the front seat of his car and stares at her name : Clara May Hamilton.

"Maybe its a pseudonym name. Clara, Clara May...Mary, Mary Milton, okay Mary lets try that."

He enters the name Mary Milton of Kansas in his computer search. The search returns some names. Did he finally figure it out? He begins to scroll down the page and sees an obituary of Clara Hamilton - Milton, who passed away. He uses his mouse and clicks on it.

Reading aloud, "Clara Hamilton-Milton of Stafford County passed away on November 19th after a long battle with cancer. She was a graduate of St. John's High School where she met her high school sweetheart...she cared for her four kids Jethro, Tracey, Mary and Henry..."

A smile comes across the face of the sheriff so happy he figured out who she was. He continues his online search where he stumbled upon the Stafford Courier. The reporter retells the story of Mary but this time it was more in-depth and graphic.

Sheriff Blake read aloud the details of the human dissection that took place somewhere, maybe a spaceship. How could something like this be real but it was too detailed to be fake.

As the sheriff reads, back at the police department Ed begins to do he same thing to Deputy Felles.

"They placed a knife in my back and began to cut my flesh," Mary recalled,"The sawing sounded like rough sandpaper being dragged across a surface. Not much sophistication for higher beings. The knife plunged deep into my back, as it followed the ridges of my spine, from my lumbar up to my cervical odontoid process. There wasn’t any blood, just pain, from them cutting into my 31 branches of nerve root..."

Ed makes a small slice into the back of Deputy Felles, closest to the Thoracic spine, or the middle of his back. Ed then takes the same knife and places a slice in his index finger. He then slowly squeezes his finger forcing the red blood cells out until a yellowish red color professes out. The blood flows and runs the length of his finger and down the palm of his hand. He then shoves his finger in the opening of Felles back pushing deep down past the knuckle, slowly turning i,t as it slides in. Ed then squeezes his remaining fingers into a fist, and squeezes the balled up fingers back and forth forcing more blood into the deputy.

Deputy Felles is numb. The only thing moving are his eyes every time Ed jams his finger in and out.

Clara said, "she was in excruciating pain, screaming for them to stop. The aliens placed their hands inside her body and under her spine until they where able to wrap them around her tail bone, then, pulling up on it, and pulling her spine out of her back. Popping noises could be heard as it broke away from her rib bones, yet there still was no blood."

Once Ed removed Deputy Felles spine and head he hung it up on the clothes rack that officers use when they are changing in the locker room. The coccyx bangs against the wall causing an echo in the locker room but it is quickly drowned out by Deputy Felles screaming at the sight of his body lying naked on the bench.

Once Clara’s head was removed she detailed how they, "picked her body up, as if they were hugging the torso and one of the aliens wedged its hands into the opened spine area, and like flaps, pulled it open and turned the top end inside out. With her blood vessels and organs exposed, they removed the bones from her legs and arms and reached into the hollowed out skin, and pulled her appendages inside out..."

Back at the police department Ed was looking at the parts of the body, as he removed the organs one by one, and placed them on the floor. Except for Deputy Felles still beating heart, that was placed off the side. The rest of the organs were strategically laid out, as if they were still in the body.

The esophagus was pulled out and placed along the lungs. His right and left femur, tibia and fibula are realigned on the ground. The blood vessels are removed and draped over the bone structure. Ed began to reassemble the deputy to specific specifications that was instilled in him from his abduction and indoctrination.

Sheriff Blake finished the article and felt uneasy. In all his years in law enforcement he had never fathomed such a horrific event to one person.

Ring- The sheriff’s phone sounds causing him to jump out of fear.

“Hello,Sheriff here" Blake says as he clears his throat.

"Hello is this Sheriff Donald Blake?” the voice said.

“Yes it is," he replied.

“Hey sheriff this is Tom Waltz from the F.B.I. I was asked to give you a call. I am part of the Unexplained and Unusual Occurrence Division or the U.U.O.D. investigating the strange and unexplained."

"Hey Tom," the sheriff says, "well, I don't have much to go on, just some strange behavior from one of our regulars."

"Strange how?," Waltz askes..

"Well Ed has always been the town drunk. Aloof from everyone. He only came around like a stray dog when he needed something. But recently he has been going on and on about aliens that abducted him. He was so convincing about it. So I thought I would reach out to the F.B.I. don't ask me why I guess it may be a little too much for us to handle."

"We here at the U.U.O.D. take these matters serious sheriff, so I'm glad you called. We have had an up tick of alleged abductions. This just came across my email, so that is why I was able to call so fast." Waltz said.


*** I may pick this series back up but for now I will end it. Thanks to the reader for submitting their request in the Design Your Story section. If there is enough demand I will resume the story. Thanks for reading everyone! - cpf

https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Rules are Rules

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August 7th, 2012

The decision to get away for the day happened fast. I had set up house rules, but the kids had other ideas. The thought of forty- eight hours of rule-breaking and educating them on the rules over and over to reaffirm them made my weekend uneasy.

"Okay, guys, let's go get dressed. We are going for a drive," I announce.

The boys ignore me while playing with their cars in their little world and making rules.

"Guys. Want to go bye-bye," I said with a soft tone.

Like dogs hearing the dog food hit the bowl at dinner time, they jumped into action and mugged me while I sat on the couch.

"Now I got your attention, let's get dressed, all of us," I say because going for a drive in boxer shorts and diapers wasn't going to fly.

I manage to get both boys dressed and in their car seats; boy, am I getting better at this, and then I scurry about the house, grabbing whatever I think we will need, just in case I decide to stay somewhere other than home, later that evening.

Sniff- Clean

Sniff- Eh, will do

Sniff- nope

I throw what I can, mainly in the diaper bag I bought with a manly man appeal, and use a green-friendly Wal-Mart bag for the rest of the clothes. There are rules when it comes to being eco-friendly to the environment. I shove what I can in the bag, and I think, boy, do I need a nice duffle bag.

 I jump in the van and seat belt myself in. I look over my shoulder at my boys.

"Everyone still strapped in?" I announce, "There are rules that say you must wear those seat belts."

With that final announcement, I drove down the road towards northbound I-95, a major east coast interstate, for our trip to the Orlando area. And, of course, on this two-and-a-half-hour drive, I obeyed all the traffic rules that Iwasm required me to follow. Even as the other drivers in their cars around me broke them.

The boys were preoccupied with the DVD player while I drove in an almost straight line with no idea where I was going. I was breaking the travel rules without an itinerary, but who cares about road trips? You are supposed to be spontaneous. On our journey, I decided to stay at a Walt Disney Resort.

I called customer relations, booked Disney hotel rooms, and spoke to a lovely lady with classic Disney style. It made me feel good.

"Hi, I know you have rules when booking a reservation," I said to Mindy, the Disney representative, "however, I decided to make a last-minute trip. Do you have a room available?"

And with some Disney magic, we had a room in a nice resort with a heavy toll to pay. I was hoping it would be worth it.

After we settled in, I got the boys dressed for the pool. Before arriving at the aquatic entertainment, I decided to feed the boys even though there are rules that warn people about eating and swimming soon after.

"I know you guys will hardly eat, but always obey the rules and wait for the food to digest before swimming," I said to them as if they knew what I was talking about. Hell, even I don't know why that is a rule.

After our quick meal, it was time to have fun in the sun and enjoy Disney magic in the pool. It was a beautiful late afternoon. The sky was a bright blue, and the clear blue sky surrounded this piece of earth as if God had his arms around us. The sun was shining but soft enough for the rays to gently touch our skin. The breeze was nice, sufficient to fan the heat that absorbed into our flesh, and the people were friendly like you would hope to find in a perfect world. You couldn't ask for a better day.

"Rules!" I hear a voice shout out of nowhere, shaking me out of nirvana.

"We have rules, sir." I look around as if it were a voice from the heavens chastising me.

I then spot a young lifeguard looking in my direction. I then looked around to see if he was talking to me until finally, I just yelled out loud for the entire pool party to hear.

"ME!" as I point to myself with my index finger.

"Yes, you," the angry lifeguard proclaimed, "You can not toss your kid in the pool; it's against the rules, and you, sir, did it twice," he said, calling me out in the sea of many.

"Yes, you're right. I tossed my kids in the pool," being the proud daddy I am.

"Well, you can not throw them in the pool. We have rules, observe them," the lifeguard said.

"Oh, I just saw the rule that says no diving, which we didn't do," I told him stoically.

"Well, sir, everyone has rules, and so does Mickey Mouse, so no jumping, diving, kicking, hopping, skipping, flipping, using your shoulders as a springboard, cannon balls, jack knives, tossing, grabbing, or any function that entails throwing your kids," he said in one breath.

I stared at him, got out of the pool, and went to my lounge chair.

"Sir, you don't have to leave, you know, just state the rules," he told me with a softer tone.

"No, you're right, you're right," I said. "I forgot to put on sunblock. The rule is you should use over SPF 50," I said proudly, displaying the tube of sunblock that I applied to my kids before leaving the hotel room.

"Excellent, sir," the lifeguard said, "Did you also know you should apply the sunblock a half hour before getting wet?"

Damn, I didn't catch those rules. Well, rules are rules. 

978 words

https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Take Over, Your Story Part III

You are here: Home » Take Over, Your Story Part III

August 6th, 2012

R.T. wants to remain anonymous. R.T. used the Design Your Story Submission Form section and told me he wanted a sci-fi story. He let me run with it and I ended up with a series here. So, here is part I, I hope you enjoy R.T. and thanks for your submission. It keeps me busy and I love connecting with my readers and subscribers

 *Warning some content me be disturbing to some

Take Over, Your Story Part III

Sheriff Blake begins to think. Trying to connect the dots with what was going on with Ed. He then used his laptop in the car to search for any information about Clara in Kansas that he could...

Someone is banging on the front door of the police department. The sound of the heavy knocking echos through the empty station.

“Sheriff!” Tommy yells, “Are you in there?”

Tommy has a farm on the out skirts of town. He found Ed in his fields that are out in the middle of nowhere while he was surveying his harvest. He knows Ed all to well and he knows he doesn't travel too far from town. Ed knows where his bread and butter is, and never strayed too far.

Tommy places both forearms on the glass as he peers inside, looking for any signs of life. The building is well lit so Tommy has no problem in his search for anyone to open the door.

Buzzzzz- the door buzzer goes off indicating that it is unlocked.

Tommy opens the door and enters, stopping before the front desk and the wood partition that separates the lobby and the rest of the building. Tommy looks around surveying the empty desks and chairs for anyone who might be there.

“Sheriff!” Tommy yells out.

The police department is quite which isn’t unusual for this place.

“Hello?” Tommy says again.

He leans over the swinging door, that is about waist high. When it opens it allows the person access to the forward areas.  As he continues to stare off in the distance he doesn’t observe the TV monitors that are off to his right. The TV's are there for security purposes so the police department can be monitored by various cameras throughout the PD. 

If Tommy was more aware of what was going on around him, he would have seen a figure on monitor number eight displaying a person moving around in the hallways. His continued ignorance to what is going on begins to hinder him further as the person moves  past camera seven.

It was fast and sudden. The shadowy person moved across the floor suddenly. If he'd blinked he would have missed it. Tommy looks back and glances at the monitors but they are clear. He then grabs the phone receiver that is affixed to the wall and decides to call the sheriff personally.

“Let me see”, Tommy says trying to recall the sheriffs number.

As Tommy slowly enters the number on the key pad, camera six picks up the person, but this time it moves slow enough past the lens to get a glimpse. Tommy turns around but not quick enough, the dark person moved away. Tommy then leans over the monitors and gets a card that is resting in a card holder.

“Here's his number, 346-235…” Tommy says counting the numbers off as begins to enter it.

Camera five picks up where camera six left off. The camera is in the corridor off the main hallway. The figure is making its way to the front of the police department. Right to where Tommy is at.

We're sorry the number you dialed has been disconnect please hang up and try again – “Hmm” Tommy says aloud. “Let’s try to do this again." He says hanging the receiver up then quickly removing it again.

Camera five is displaying the figure on the monitor as it moves down the hallway towards camera four. That camera displays the person moving past the evidence room and leads into camera three's line of sight. Camera two is right outside the door where Tommy is standing as he tries to dial a simple number.

Tommy has the phone receiver up to his ear. He is staring at his reflection in the glass window pane that is casting his reflection back at him as the inside light clashes with the blackness of night trapping all the reflections inside the police department. The line connects and the ringing of the other phone can be heard form Tommy's handset, he got the number right. 

He stands with his arms crossed. He right forearm is upwards that is bracing the receiver to his ear. Behind Tommy, who is oblivious to the reflection of the main hallway door opening slowly as the dark figure moves out from the hallway and into the room with Tommy. Tommy continues to stare forward not aware of the moving figure headed his way.

“Hey Sheriff”, Tommy says, “Guess I got your voicemail. Anyway I am here at the police department but there is no one here…”

While Tommy talks to the sheriff’s phone recorder the shadow figure is moving much more closely to him, slowly reaching out to his left shoulder. Camera one is displaying the action in the monitor just to his left but he is not looking that way.

"I’ll be standing by the main phone until you call. I think I am the only one left in the world with no cell phone. Talk to you soon. Bye-bye.” Tommy leans down to place the phone back on the cradle.

He leans forward as the hand of the creepy figure reaches over him like a hook. Tommy places the phone receiver down on the base. As he leans back the hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him back violently.

“AHHHH”, Tommy screams.

PART IV SOON


https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com