Christmas and Whatnot 2015

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Nico (left) and Christopher at the Ice celebration at the Gaylord Hotel in Orlando December 2015 

December 24, 2015

I celebrate Christmas. And 2015 is the year that Nico and Christopher understand why there is an 8-foot tree in the house. The tree dons twinkling lights, colorful balls, and garland and is topped with Mickey Mouse waving a lighted lantern back and forth. A reference to guide Santa's slay to our tree.

Unfortunately, the two haven't quite grasped the religious significance of December 25, a date picked to celebrate our lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. They only understand God when I say things like, "God no, Christopher, why did you do that?" Or, "No, Nico, for God's sake, stop climbing on there."

Now, before you lash out at their dad about how "I'm a bad parent," let me give you some more ammo to judge me for my boys not fully understating Christmas place in knowing God, Jesus, and birthrights. I blame the early indoctrination on TV. The commercials and Christmas specials, like The Peanuts or The Grinch or whatever, tend to make my kids think that Christmas gifts are as cool as the commercials and that I can be the Grinch who shouts, "No. Santa. Ever!

The non-stop commercializing of Christmas began November 1, or how I like to compare it: The day after Halloween, when Michael Myers attacked the same town he had attacked since I first watched Halloween when I was 3. This only makes me think that Michael Myers should get out more and see the world.

Lately, I have been shopping online. It's so convenient. And I have been shopping there so much that I wouldn't be surprised if Nico and Christopher call Hector, the United Parcel Service driver, Santa, since Hector has been to the house daily. People are going to think he and I are having an affair. Sometimes, it's a ménage à trios of trucks when the FedEx, United States Post Office, and UPS come simultaneously. No pun intended.

Questions from my kids about why these trucks come every day have yet to be brought up by them, so they need not worry. They are questioning Christmas and the existence of Santa. Christmas for them right now is more of a plethora of commands by me, "those aren't your gifts, don't touch those boxes, stop touching the tree, leave the ornaments alone, stop messing with the neighbor's Christmas lights, no I can't make you Spider-Man, no daddy doesn't know Santa Claus…because I'll text him you've been naughty!"

I'm raising good kids, though, and they deserve a lovely holiday for being good in school, having good manners, and listening to authority at least 60 percent of the time! I mean, they're 6 and 7. The only bad thing they could do right now besides burn down the house is not wanting to go to school or challenge my "no." And I find that the only people who challenge my "no" are adults. Being a police officer has always been in my arsenal.

"Sorry, ma'am, no, you can't drive that way. There's a 3 car pile up."

"I don't care, officer, I need to go there."

"But, ma'am, someone died in that car accident."

"I can't believe you're inconveniencing me," she said.

Suppose you think about all the bad things around the world and what adults have done to one another and the environment. In that case, Nico, flooding the toilets in the summer of 2015 isn't so bad. Or his brother Christopher using a permanent marker on the refurbished cabinets of my renovated kitchen in March of 2015 is, well, child's play compared to wars, bigotry, lies, cheats, and deaths. We humans are sure mean to each other.

I see why there is a mythical character that my sons can think exists that will bring joy and good cheer. We should all believe in someone who gives without thought and sacrifices to ensure the world has at least a good day. We can learn from that selflessness. Wait, that person isn't an aberration. People described like that can be my parents.

I was putting up our Christmas tree with the help of my boys. Finally, I trusted them enough to place the good ornaments on the lifelike artificial pre-lit, led tree. Some of these ornaments are priceless. Thoughts of my kids shaking the tree and causing them to tumble to the ground and shatter created as much fear in me as a cat owner who decides to put up a tree yearly.

"Dad, are all our families doing this?"

"You mean putting up a tree?"

"Yes"

"Well, no, some people don't celebrate the holiday because they have their own beliefs, and some can't afford to buy a tree or make ends meet."

"Doesn't Santa bring those kids all gifts?"

"In a perfect world, no one would suffer and be without a present during a holiday. But this is only sometimes the case. That's why we must remember that we are lucky and fortunate to have love and care for each other and give thanks that there are people out there who help others who can not help themselves. You have to believe in the spirit that Christmas day, somewhere out there, is a person spreading good cheer and sacrificing themselves to make sure others aren't doing without. As much as we want to believe that Santa is helping everyone, we also need to believe that he has helpers like us who help those he can't reach."

"We are pretty lucky that we can celebrate."

My sons may understand that Christmas equals gifts, but that doesn't mean I can't undo what commercialism tells them. They should hear from dad to give in the spirit rather than take without thought. Merry Christmas boys'

I think of you always.

954 words

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE! 2015

Nico and Captain waiting for the Walt Disney World monorail, at the Polynesian Resort December 2015

A few thought this Christmas:

This holiday I think of the 2 women who I saw while I was patrolling who could only put a few dollars of fuel in her car and I topped off their tanks. One of those ladies was stranded on the side of the road. She was so used to having no gas she kept an emergency half a gallon of gas in her trunk. I told her that was dangerous!

I was driving down the road and saw a woman with her two children waiting on the bus and it was about to rain. I quickly bought them ponchos and an umbrella.

The family struggling to buy the kids Slurpee’s, an ice treat, counting their change trying to figure out how to buy their kids a treat that so many of us take for granted, I made sure they got it all, anonymously.

Some donating I did this year:

Judd Apatow’s Night of Too Many Stars for Autism:  https://www.autismspeaks.org/site-wide/night-too-many-stars

and Seth Rogan, www.hilarityforcharity.org

Donated to my friends, friend who is dying of ALS: https://www.gofundme.com/8qch93xg

And the many other things I did to pay it forward.

© 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. 

*Note: Many of the stops and contact I made on the side of the road to help people were done while I was on duty in my capacity as a law enforcement officer in a marked police car. You should always proceed with caution with being confronted or asked to help by someone you don’t know. When in doubt just call the police for assistance.

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Pressing Snooze

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Nico (left) and Christopher at a Christmas Ice show in Orlando, T'was the Night Before Christmas 

December 10, 2015

Without looking over my shoulder I reached out my arm and with the very tips of my fingers I pressed the snooze bar on my alarm clock. I never once open my eyes, I don’t need to know the time. It’s 6 A.M. I know the dreaded time has arrived when I have to place my weary feet on the floor and start my day.

I’m enjoying what little rest the snooze function will afford me. The countdown has begun though, from when I hit the button and the five-minute buffer before that annoying, “beep, beep, beep,” noise begins to pierce my ears. I long to keep my eyes tightly shut and fall back to sleep while I continue to do my best to forget that I have to start my day. Someone has to pay the bills until I’m rich or win the lottery.

“Man,” I think, “there has got to be like three minutes left of rest here in my bed,” I said to myself. “Dream Chris dream, dream of something good with your fleeting minutes.”

But I can’t dream, I can’t rest, the anxiety is building. There has to be two minutes left on my snooze button reset. This anticipation is grueling. I open my eyes and stare at the wall. Slowly the low light of the alarm clock reflects back at me, and yet, I don’t look back at the time. I am determined to rest. Sleep like a bump on a log, what the hell does that even mean, for at least the one minute and half that I have left, okay maybe one minute and ten seconds.

I know, I could hit snooze again my situation isn’t absolute. But if I continue to stall I may have to sacrifice some things, like coffee, I can’t do that. Maybe I can forgo brushing my teeth by eating a piece of gum as a substitute. Wait do I have gum? Forget it, no I won’t brush my teeth if it means I can snooze, again. No matter how disgusting that may be. But why not brush my teeth when I go pee? I have to pee; it’s a daily morning ritual. Unless, that is I could pee outside by my car on the way out the door for work. What about brushing my hair? What about it, Chris, you’re bald. True, okay then, where else can I cut corners to extend my snooze?

Too late, I can’t figure out where to cut any corners I will just have to force myself up when that alarm goes off in 25 seconds. At least I think it’s 25 seconds, more like 20 now, going on 15 counting down to 10, 9, 8 ,7 ,6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1….Wait, no alarm? Hmm I must have my time off, the alarm should be going off….

<beep, beep, beep, beep>

There it is! I just want to go to sleep forget it, stop torturing yourself, Chris, just snooze again! But no! I won’t I’ll just get my butt up and be grateful that I can start a new day.

I sit up from my bed. The room is so cold, but baby my sheets are warm. I just got to ignore the calling of my bed. Forget that pillow I don’t want it! I don’t need sleep, I’m a beast, I’m an animal, I can get up and do this by taking on my day and head to work like a champ!

Wait, I just realized, I’m off today.

Captain Imperfecto needs a selfie stick

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Foundation

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Nico (left) and Christopher 

November 25, 2015

Trying to figure out these two kids psyches is a fun game of chess. Both my boys are beginning to emerge with their own personalities and interests so, as their dad, I’m trying to balance both of them with my own ideas of life as a lay a foundation that they will build upon through their own experiences.

Thankfully, I’m a moral person because at this stage of their life, my influence, has a direct weaving pattern as their fibers intertwine and mold their mental strength that will dictate what kind of people they will be in society.

I try to break them down when they’re strong, but not break them down to the point where they don’t stand on their own feet. I tell them “no” when appropriate but allow them some leeway on certain “no” to allow them to feel as if they some empowerment.

I don’t want to bully them because I don’t want them to be a bully to someone else however, if they succumb to my bullying will that submission allow someone else to bully them as they age? Because I won’t allow that.

I was bullied. Not by one individual over and over. I was bullied as if I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mostly while I attendant school. I was punched in the face, once, for no reason while I was in 6^th grade. It happened when school ended and I was walking home. Then on another occasion I was attacked and beat up in the eighth grade during 6^th period history class. The substitute teacher never “saw anything.” Also in the eighth grade I was almost robbed of my silver necklace my mom gave me. I was going to the restroom in between class breaks. I was able to push the robbers hand back as he attempted to grip my neck. The principal intervened. The 3 guys were gang members. Thankfully it was the last week of school and I didn't have to go back.

I never defendant myself because I wasn’t given the lessons by my parents, at my young age, on how to defend myself with words. I didn't understand that it was my right to feel empowered by saying no, don't touch me. I just coward down and took it.

These are life lessons from my experiences that didn’t scar me by making me timid or allow the incident to define a race, gender, or culture. I just vowed that I would get better and more confident and I did with each incident being a life lesson. I learned that no one cares about me more than myself, so I needed to make changes, that made me more confident with myself.

My goal as a dad is to give my boys’ the tools and lessons, now, so that they won’t need the “on the job” training that I had when dealing with a bully. I made it my mission to empower my kids early and to be morally responsible, compassionate, gentlemen but also to realize that there is a time to be nice and then a time not to be nice.

As these boys grow into men I hope that I have instilled in them the confidence a young mind needs to be successful. They may be 2 individuals but they are learning from their dad’s mindset, which is a great foundation to their life.

I would like to wish the many people out there who celebrate the American holiday of Thanksgiving, November 26, 2015, a very Happy Thanksgiving. The holiday has evolved from when we learned about the first day the Pilgrims ate with the Indians to a time many of us to give thanks for all that we have.

I like to give many thanks to my boys’ and to a certain someone who has taught me to live again, I love you all very much. I also would give thanks, that my family, will spend time together which is more precious now as time goes by because we are all getting older.

And to all of you a heartfelt thank you for continuing to read my blogs and watch my boys’ grow through the past years and the future. Thanks for being a part of it all; you are all thought of this time of year. May everyone be safe, live long, and find peace.

Captain Imperfecto celebrating a good day.

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To be or not to be there are so many questions..

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Christopher (left) and Nico on Halloween Saturday bowling party. 

November 11, 2015

Inwardly, I struggle to be happy. Outwardly, I exude happiness. Why can't I just decide where my happy medium lies? I can't pinpoint that decision because I don't always feel unhappy inside. And trust me, I have nothing to be sad about. Time moves on, and I have learned that I cannot stand around and assume that happiness will know. I'm waiting for happiness to notice me while standing on the sidelines of life. So, I chose to get in the game and make myself happy by indulging in the things that satisfied me before my time eventually ran out. Losing any more time that I lost during my first few years of being a widower would be regretful.

Good caffeinated coffee can make me happy during my time there. The beverage will spill out of me in words, as you will find out when I talk your ear off about anything and everything that will bring laughter to your face and sustenance for your appetite for good conversation.

Working out at the gym brought my endorphins out and coursed through my body, which always made me feel good. But I don't go to the gym as often as I used to. I'm talking about the gym rat years when I went during my peak years 5 days a week and 2 to 3-hour sessions. My six and seven-year-old sons' rigorous activities bring me enough energy to have my endorphins running wild. I miss my personal relationship with the gym; it's just that the gym and I are at odds with my energy and time spent playing and caring for my kids. I would much rather sit down when my kids are worn out than lie on a bench press and push up 300 pounds.

Writing has brought me some kind of happiness. I have accumulated hours and hours of blogs about my life that will surely make people happy, sad, cringe, miserable, satisfied, appalled, judgmental, hell, name it. In my blog, you'll find the adjective that suits your mood or your feelings about me. But all this constant writing gets tiring, too. Thinking of things to write and putting it on paper for someone to read and hope they find some kind of satisfaction from how I'm feeling can be very draining. This begs the question: is it time to move on from the blog?

My blog started from a simple person, well, not simple, a very famous person, encouraging me to write about my losses and allow others to know that they aren't alone in their struggles of loss and disappointments of life. But now I have evolved from the widowed father and grieving dad of 2 daughters to a somewhat adjusted reality-of-life kind of guy who has a great blog and a large platform to write to the world about my many new adventures and a new tagline, haha?

I have met many great people here and heard many stories of personal strife. So, deciding to continue writing with the blog creates more indecision and clarity on why I should keep writing. After all, writers always write as they say.

But could I even walk away from what I built here and accomplished at Captain Imperfecto? I have a website, I have written a book out looking for a home, and tens of thousands of people have subscribed to my blog and Facebook Fan page and have read more than 300,000 pages of my blog. These people span from all around the world. Some would surely become sad to see it end, right? But do I have an obligation to them?

All good things come to an end. I know this more than a lot of people. I have had an incredible journey that keeps improving, and people would still love to read about those adventures. I have a few influential contacts out there that I have yet to reach out to out of fear of alienating them and the competition with myself that I can succeed on my own. Besides, I never wrote about these misfortunes for personal gain because it didn't feel right. They could help me take the next step to keep this material fresh.

Ultimately, I will engage with my readers about my life and expand to YouTube. I continue to sip my coffee with a smile, chase my boys instead of going to the gym, and allow others inside, who may not have anyone else, to rely on me as they had relied on my writing.

Deep thoughts of decisions or indecisions with this world I have created.

"To be or not to be, that is the question."

776 words

Captain Imperfecto and his boys.

© 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. 

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313, A Halloween Short Story part I

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Nico showing off his new do.

October 28, 2015

The house at 311 Bird Street sits on a corner and can see everything that comes its way. Legend has it that 2 bodies were buried under its foundation, and those dead control the house, living and breathing hearts.

There are only 2 brave kids in the neighborhood who do not doubt the power of the house. They have seen its power with their own two eyes! One could easily trip and fall to the ground if you walked by the house. Coincidence? A car driving down the road could have a sudden tire blow out as it drives by. Was this an accident? Not!

The children knew it was evil and were sure to drive their bikes on the other side of the street. They ignored the power of 313, but they felt the house leaning toward them every day reminded them to stay clear. The house wanted them, yearning for their youth to continue the house's rage for the next century.

The house had an occupant. Her name was Mildred. She kept the house neat and cozy. She always had a smile on her face. Her pale skin highlighted her red locks of hair, but her skin was stained with freckles that littered her body. She was very friendly with the neighbors, always offering holiday food and gifts. All the neighbors liked her.

It isn't known if the house locked her down or made her obedient to their needs. She purchased the house, not knowing its history, or so it seemed, and the house acted as if it enjoyed having her as a company. Maybe the 2 who died inside knew it needed a caretaker? Mildred was either a willing participant or none the wiser of their ruse.

On every Halloween, Mildred would sit on 313's porch and pass out candy to all the kids. Every time someone approached the house, sounds of moaning and wails of pain would signal such delight the house had, as it wanted to choose a victim. The trick-or-treaters assumed the sounds were just special sound effects planted by Mildred to scare them on Halloween night. But the 2 brothers who live down the street knew better; they heard the noises year-round. The house wanted to kill. And they stayed away.

The brothers were determined to expose the house, so they planned and scoped out the area to prepare some kind of trap to show the neighborhood its evil. They wrote down what they saw and documented the times they seemed awake. The bothers chose their attack with care.

The front door was glass-framed but frosted, preventing them from seeing inside. The window had wooden draw shades that made looking through them impenetrable. A sizeable 6-foot fence surrounded the backyard, and any attempt to climb it would send shivers to the dead, advising them that someone had entered. The boys seemed defeated. The house would continue to plot a kill for years if they couldn't expose it to the world!

The boys decided to use their GoPro cameras and set up a trap to film the house in its rage. This way, they could prove to the world that evil existed in that house! But they had to set up the cameras without being seen by the ones that haunt the neighborhood.

549 words

Christopher showing off his chocolate mouth ring. 

© 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. 

For Part II Click here: 313 II » Short Story

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313, A Halloween Short Story part II

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Christopher trying on his Halloween costume. Paw Patrol! Chase on the case. 

October 28, 2015

The older brother grabbed on old BBQ grill from the backyard that was hadn’t been used in years. Their dad surly wouldn’t miss it. It was small and round with 2 wheels and a handle so it wasn’t too hard to move. He located some charcoal, ready light and an old lighter in the shed. Quietly and without being seen he was able to set the grill up in an empty field not too far from the scary house.

He pushed and pulled the grill into a good spot where he wouldn’t be seen. His little bother hid around the corner reading the crayon colored map the showed exactly where to place his cameras. He just waited for a sign from his bother. That is when the distraction would be set and for him to act.

The older brother looked around and quickly placed the charcoal in the grill. Suddenly he heard someone walking by and he stood quietly, bag still in hand, waiting for them to walk by. Did they hear him? The thick branches of the tree would surly hide him, wouldn’t they?

Finally there was silence. He grabbed the lighter and lit the charcoal on fire and placed the lid on top of it. He peered out of the trees and when he saw that no one was looking he ran to his position, out of sight of the house, but close enough to place his camera out once their plan was set in motion.

The wind blew and swayed the trees but there was no smoke yet. Had the fire gone out? Should he go back and relight it. Would the house see him this time? He was afraid to move. There was no way to communicate with his little bother. He could only hope that his brother had enough patience to wait for the signal of heavy smoke that they agree upon.

The older brother was about to give up and wait until another day since the grill was set in place and hidden for easy access for another day. But then it happened. A poof of white smoke pooped out of the canopy of trees. The white smoke drifted above the horizon. Steadily the intermitted smoke closed the gap from its distance of the grill and it began to billow out causing a chaotic scene that there could be a fire in the area.

“Fire!” A woman shouted.

“Call, 9-1-1!” another neighbor yelled.

The brothers’ held fast waiting for the moment the fire trucks arrived. They knew that the house would be too distracted by the emergency vehicles to see them climbing trees and mounting their cameras.

The first fire truck arrived. It was a big engine, with 3 firefighters all decked out in their fighting gear. The first one jumped off and prepared to open a fire hydrant that was mounted next to 313.

“I can’t open it,” she yelled.

A fellow firefighter ran over to help her. They grabbed the large wrench and pushed together but it wouldn’t budge. A lightly laugh could be heard. The house was mocking them.

Whoosh.

A slight wind was casted towards the hydrant and the water flow loosened at a fast pace sending both fighter fighters towards the ground where they landed in a thud on the sidewalk. Water gushed out into the street.

“We need water,” the nozzle man shouted.

The two firefighters stood up by the hydrant and stumbled to the wrench handle.

“1,2,3,” she shouted.

They tried again to turn off the water to attach the hose. And again a whoosh of wind sent them careening into the street. The water was off. The house at 313 rumbled with laughter.

The smoke was thicker and billowed out faster the wind mixed the smoke throughout the neighborhood. People came out to see what was going on in their once quite community.

“Will you attach that hose to the hydrant,” a fire fighter yelled.

“Got it, I got it,” she yelled.

She twisted the nozzle lock to the right in order to attach the hose but once she let the metal cylinder go it would spin back to the left. She’d try again. But it would not stay attached.

The boys seized their moment and ran to their position. The little brother scaled the tree right across the street from 313. He got to the highest part and clearest view of the house and started to mount his camera. His older brother ran into the backyard of the house directly behind 313 and climbed their orange tree. When he got to the best possible spot he attached his camera. But instead of leaving he lingered about. He had the perfect spot to see the distraction they both concocted. The smoke from the grill flooded the streets and people gathered to see it. He scanned his surroundings until he looked directly had 313.

The wind started to shift. The tree began to shake and sway from side to side. Oranges started falling from the tree. Had the ghost inside seen him? Are they trying to shake him out? He became scared and scurried down from his perch as fast as he could. The cameras were set. This Halloween the boys were determined to show 313 for what it really was: a house for lost souls.

No fear here as Christopher jumps in the pool.

© copyright 2015, Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. 

For Part III Click here: 313 III » Short Story

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