Range - Chapter 32

   Speedy was getting more and more frustrated having to deal with all the red tape developing around his precious case. There was seemingly no end to it. He felt like beating his head off of the wall in the hallway, literally, directly after coming out of a meeting discussing the genders of the arrest team that should be on hand.

   Apparently, it was multifaceted. A number of old school minds that were weighing in? Wanted as many big, tall, strong, fit men as possible. For the obvious reasons there. To grab a hold of the situation and control it once it got to that point. Pure logic and safety.

   The newer schools of thought got to weigh in though. They were thinking the main perpetrators that performed the crimes, were women. Women that were young and cute enough to land a college kid out for a night on the town. No known firearms involved. So, how great would it be, if they could have one or more women on the high profile arrest. Pure PR.

   Another newer school of thought, was that if there were women perpetrators, they should probably have at least one female agent on hand to search them thoroughly. These "women" were drugging and murdering people. No matter how young and cute the women were, they were fucking dangerous. This school of thought argued that a female agent? Would be better overall for the later court scene. Men should only search female perpetrators in the direst of circumstances. Juries, and in particular female jurors? Don't like hearing testimony describing adult men, handcuffing young women, and searching them.

   The reality of it all was, as one rational man pointed out… these women are fucking dangerous, and it wouldn't be the first time in the history of law enforcement that a perpetrator had whatever hidden creatively on or in their body and later used it.

   They ended up having lunch in the meeting, and during the food break, an around the table developed where each man told of the most creative and destructive thing a perpetrator had hidden and later wielded effectively against an LEO, that they had ever heard of and believed actually happened.

   Some of them, made you cringe just thinking about it. A woman that successfully concealed a tiny 22 automatic in her snatch. Two arresting male officers, naturally neglected to search up inside her twat while otherwise successfully effecting the arrest.

   She had wormed her behind the back handcuffed wrists? Down and under her ass and down and around her legs. By the time one of the officers noted her hands in front of her, and had the driver pull over to see to it? It was already too late though they didn't realize it.

   When the first officer opened the back car door up to grab hold of her and deal with this, she opened fire directly into his face with the little 22 automatic. Got out and ran her ass off, with the handcuffs now in front, still holding her cute little gun.

   The partner, faced with the choice of trying to catch the surprisingly fleet footed perpetrator and the alternate choice of seeing to his partner who had his face shot up bad… chose to see to the life of his partner. She could be picked up later. Except? It didn't pan out. The ID was a complete fake, and nothing ID'd her accurately. She skipped that city and was never heard from again. She hadn't even been brought in and fingerprinted yet, so they were fucked. They failed to lift any prints off of anywhere, mainly on account of the cage seat prevented it.

   One hair raising story related had been the infamous story of the ass blade. A transvestite junkie hooker with AIDS, had been picked up on various charges. Once in the county lockup, during search and clean time? This charmer ended up having a short but not insubstantially sized old fashioned straight razor, closed naturally, stuck up his own ass.

   Knowing it was about to be found and that he would get another charge anyways, and drugged out of his mind on lord only knew what various substances for Christ only knew how many days straight with no sleep? She/He/It picked a surprisingly good time, when everyone thought everything was going "smoothly" during the normally routine processing of incoming prisoners… and struck.

   Taken by surprise and lulled into a day at the office ho hum mentality… several county guards had been slashed with the straight razor before they could subdue and control the lunatic. Everyone winced and grimaced. Deep cuts, with an old razor… that spent who knew how many hours or days up the ass of an actual transvestite junkie hooker with an AIDS card. Bad fucking day at work, no doubt about it.

   The functional upshot of this amusing lunch story game, was that the all women PR cheerleaders? Got voted down a good bit. These women were dangerous, they could have anything on them, anywhere. PR brownie points could be scored off of some other case, this wasn't the one.

   Which got the "female agent to search" team up-voted a good bit. They decided that all around, the best logical choice? Was an all male arrest team. With one added female that would both effect arrests with the guys, and be the go to choice to thoroughly search these dangerous psychopaths masquerading as cute little girls.

   Speedy related his day and these highlights to Panic over the phone in the early evening. Speedy admitted that while this was not good, all the wasted time was giving the "camera crew" led by JG, time for refinements and field testing. That part was going more or less "optimum", so when they finally hit the field work… things should go well.

   After they ended the call, Panic returned to Merry and sat in the folding camping chair next to her. Merry at least, was doing much better, or at least seemed to be. He decided to amuse her with the horror stories of what perpetrators had hidden on them and where they had hidden them and what they had then did with said hidden things.

   They both admitted, that it was funny. Sick and twisted, yet humorous. They then admitted, that it was also quite horrifying. More so even, because of the reality of it all.

   It was finally threatening to begin to get dark out, and Merry and Panic had joined the boys at their main campfire. Both of them looked at each other, and were trying not to laugh, and failing… when one of the guys kept offering them coffee. They both assured him it was just an inside joke, had nothing to do with him or his coffee, then accepted Styrofoam cups of it to prove they weren't laughing at him.

   Merry enjoyed sitting around one of the guys that had arrived recently and was keen on hanging out with Panic, and so naturally her as well. Everyone called him either Mark or Skykid. Merry smiled watching the two guys catching up on things. Apparently, Skykid was the only other member that had been in the Air Force like Panic had, most of the others if not cops and ex cops were Army and Marines, with several Navy guys tossed in.

   Skykid got everyone's hooted approval for his toast…

   "…to Ziggy!"

   Everyone thought it was slightly odd that they could not drag out of their friend Panic, what in the hell he had done to his shoulder to incur the stitches. A campfire round table developed, with every man coming up with the most outlandish possibility he could think of. Some were sick, some were twisted, all were funny to one degree or another.

   Merry got Panic to entertain the campfire with Speedy's related tales of hidden weapons, and the agreed upon choice amid uproarious laughter? The ass razor tranny had slashed his shoulder.

   Panic entertained his friends at the campfire by "admitting" that he had the "tranny poop" deep in his shoulder injury, but they had gotten most of it out and there shouldn't be any lasting effects… whereupon he started simply swishing his flapping one good wrist and bouncing around, making comical faces.

   Not content, Panic started trying to hold a plastic spoon between his butt cheeks, largely unsuccessfully, and walked around backwards attempting to "stab" everyone.

   In between roasting every guy there, talk came around to wondering how the two of them had met. Merry smiled at Panic, and explained she worked at a steakhouse. It was close to where Panic and George and Speedy were working on their project. Panic and George had come in, and Merry related that she had taken a shine to Panic while bringing the boys their lunch. When Panic stopped back for dinner? She introduced herself and they hit it off.

   When pressed for what or why, Merry simply said…

   "Look. I live and work in the city. Real, honest to god, nice guys? Are practically extinct there. I couldn't say no to that. I'm not the only girl in my city? That's all but given up on the club scene. I mean, if you're looking for a real relationship? A bunch of us girls decided, you have to meet guys pretty much anywhere else, than out at the club."

   "He's nice? That's it? That's not much of an explanation, Pochahantas…"

   "All right. For example? Guys will tell a girl anything they think the girl wants to hear. He didn't seem to be like that. He seemed… genuine. Honest. Nice. He spent some time at my steakhouse? I was hooked."

   Skykid got the next big laugh, by walking by and leaning down and lightly pinching Panic's cheek…

   "Oh, you are just so sweet…"

   "Well? He is. My coworkers thought he was a nice guy. My cat even likes him."

   "So, what did our Panic do that impressed you so much?"

   "It's not as much what he did, it's more about what he didn't do."

   "Like…?"

   "Well, for starters? He doesn't wanna hang out at the bar every night. Trying to hook up like everyone does. That's a great start. For another? I don't know if you boys all realize it, but… most guys? Will try to impress a girl. They usually take two paths on that… they either brag about how tough they are, and try to act like a real jerk, showing off? Or, they spend the whole conversation bragging about how much money they supposedly make. I don't know about all the other girls? I got tired of that shit."

   "All right, all right… so… you're gonna go on record, saying that women aren't impressed by 'tough guys' and guys bragging about how rich they are? I smell a rat…"

   "Look. Being a tough guy? Is fine. Women do like… real men, I guess you would call it. Sure… and what woman wouldn't want to be with a guy that makes good money. But… I'm not picking my guy out, to just be some caveman, or, some guy with a checkbook."

   Someone quipped…

   "Any other dating tips for us divorced guys here?"

   "I don't know about other women, I just know me. Panic here? He didn't spend the entire conversation trying to impress me and talk all about himself. He just… talked to me, if that makes any sense. No bragging. He talked with me, not at me. He just seemed… really honest."

   "And, your cat likes him."

   Everyone laughed.

   "Yeah. Bitty Kitty seems to like having him around, as much as I do."

   Merry had Panic sit and stay, and she went and got both of them a big plate of the community dinner that evening. Someone had brought what they proclaimed to be "the entire ass of a Moose, both cheeks" and it had been slowly turned into a roast. Actually, a twin pair of roasts. With tons of vegetables. Slow cooked all day and into the evening.

   Skykid hadn't brought the moose ass, but he had been the cook. Panic knew what Merry was up to, huddled with Skykid talking. She was picking his brain as gently as she could for both what went in the roast everyone liked so much, and any tips or tricks as well.

   Skykid finished his roast talk with Merry, claiming that most people had a strong tendency to not use low enough a temperature and long enough of a time at that low temperature… to achieve a juicy roast like they envisioned. Skykid claimed if you raised the temperature or shortened the cooking time, or both… no matter how much water covering everything, you would still get a "dry" feeling about the meat. Instead of the fall apart melting thing you really wanted, with sweet delectable fat.

   When Merry asked aloud what about healthy low fat meats? Everyone belly laughed their asses off. These men were all carnivores, and they wanted the fat on their meat, not carved and tossed off to the dog or the garbage can.

   Someone tried to tease Skykid about cooking being a feminine activity? He just chuckled.

   "Right. All the famous chefs, are mostly all men. How 'feminine' is it, when a man brings a woman over for a real gourmet dinner, and actually knows how to pick the right wine to go with it? This frog, knows how to cook."

   Merry was puzzled…

   "Frog?"

   Skykid laughed heartily.

   "Frog. Frenchie. I cook gourmet food, and I make gourmet wine. Ask anyone that's been around me."

   Good nature ribbing notwithstanding, murmurs about this and that dish they had enjoyed at his hands, was on practically everyone's lips…

   "The sauteed back-strap medallions…"

   "Hell, I hate salad, and I ate three of his salads."

   "I still can't make that damned birthday cake for breakfast you made at the last RLB Fest, Sky…"

   "Thank you, Rob. And, that was a quiche… not an egg birthday cake… you uncultured German kraut!"

   Rob was not a small man, and pretended to be insulted.

   "Hey! I resemble that remark!"

   Merry quizzed him…

   "You're part German?"

   "Yes ma'am. All parts. The family farm area I'm from? We get called transients, because we've only been on our land for five generations."

   Merry quipped…

   "Good god, the master race is real."

   Panic chuckled…

   "Merry? Here's the best part. You probably think he's a big guy, right?"

   "He sure ain't little…"

   "Tell her, Rob!"

   Rob smiled…

   "Ma'am? Big farm family. More brothers and sisters than I can count after a few beers… I'm the runt of the litter."

   Amid all the humor and good nature hazing the men put through themselves, Merry did not take long to notice something. These men were all tight with one another. They all seemed to know each other's complete backgrounds and could finish each other's stories.

   Merry could see how Panic was at his complete ease with all these men. He had already explained to her, that when they were here? You could simply trust, count on, and depend on any of them. He had gone through a list, all but bragging of them. You could leave a couple thousand dollars cash in a bank envelope laying around? Fall asleep and it was where you left it when you woke up. If it wasn't where you left it? It was because someone had put it away for you.

   If you want some food someone has? Just ask. He explained that all the rifles she saw laying and standing around everywhere? Were for the most part, thousand dollar rifles with thousand dollar scopes, and a thousand or more dollars in custom work to boot. Each. They were laying around not watched, as if they were shovels and rakes.

   Merry was uncomfortable leaving her purse lay around at work with new workers, and already knew she had to watch any of her "friends" around any boyfriend she brought around. Panic had not only told her, he had more than promised her… she was to ask his friend Rob about the nature of 'trust'.

   She asked Panic if it was still all right, or if it wasn't appropriate in this setting, should she ask him more privately.

   "Merry? That, is an excellent introduction to the whole concept. Please. Be my guest… Rob? Me and Merry were talking about something, and, I told her to ask you about it, that you could explain it better than I could. Now… she just asked me if it was okay to ask you openly? Or, would it be more polite to ask you privately. Please. Educate her."

   "Miss Merry?"

   "Yes, Rob?"

   "Please take no offense to it, ma'am… but, we can't have a private conversation."

   "Well, not here around a campfire and everyone's talking and drinking. We would have to step over to the cooking table to have a private conversation."

   "Nope."

   "What…?"

   "We can't have a private conversation, Miss Merry. Has to be someone else with us."

   "Why?"

   "Panic brought you here. It's obvious he really likes you. And? He ain't just chasing you, neither. You's all hanging all over him, day and night. You? Belong to him. You? Are his property."

   "All right. I understand what you mean, but…"

   "Ma'am? There's no 'buts' about it. I meant what I just said."

   "Okay. We just met. But, once we become friends, we could---"

   "No. We can't. We will never be friends."

   "You… you don't like me then. That's all right, we---"

   "No ma'am. I done said, you's to take no offense. I like you just fine. You're very pretty. You're very polite. You're fun and funny to sit here and talk with. But, we simply can't be friends."

   "Well… why?"

   "Panic? Is my buddy. He's one of my best friends. A man doesn't spend time with his friend's woman. Not without someone else there. That person you can call another friend, but, that person is the escort. The escort? Makes it official."

   "Okay, I see where you're coming from, Rob, but…"

   "Ma'am? I already said. No 'buts' about it. You might live with Panic? I surely might need something, or, need to ask you something, and sure, I'll stop over. You can bring what I need to the front porch, where the whole neighborhood can see, I stood outside. We need to talk? We can talk right on the front porch. I have no need to go inside his house with you, when he's not home."

   "Well… what if it's a heavy object, and I can't lift it?"

   "You can stand outside, and I'll go in myself and get it."

   "We could meet somewhere in public for a quick lunch, I mean that's surely---"

   "Nope. A man doesn't eat meals with another man's woman. That's something friends do. Men and women? Can't be friends. It's not possible."

   "Rob? I appreciate all of this, but… men and women can be friends. Is there some weird definition of what a 'friend' is, that I'm not aware of?"

   "There are four things in this world, Miss Merry. There are strangers. There are acquaintances. There are friends. There's family. And as I said? Men and women, can't be friends."

   "Why not?"

   "Miss Merry? Indulge me. Please?"

   "Go on…"

   "Thank ya ma'am. Most people don't know the difference between acquaintances and friends. Do you know the difference?"

   "Probably not. You tell me, then."

   "Miss Merry, most people think they have lots of friends. They don't… they just have many acquaintances. People to eat, drink, fart around with. Whatever, it's fine and dandy, but… don't count on them as being real friends. If it's life or death? Don't count on them standing behind you when the chips are down."

   "Rob, that's… harsh?"

   "Yes ma'am, it is harsh. But? It's true. People that say… oh, I have lots of friends… what they meant to say? Was that they have plenty of acquaintances. Real friends? Are what most people would think of as family. And even then, in today's world? A lot of people's family ain't worth a limp fuck. But, a real friend? Trumps that kind of family."

   "Rob…"

   "Miss Merry? In conversation all night, you've freely mentioned past problems with your exes. Have you not? You's real open about what went on."

   "I am."

   "Miss Merry? Those 'friends' that slept with your man? Those were no friends. They was just acquaintances, and that's what you typically get for mistaking the difference between acquaintances and real friends."

   "Hmm."

   "Miss Merry? If your 'friends' had been obeying my rules? It would simply not be possible for anything to have gone on, would it?"

   Merry furrowed her brow, and thought about it.

   "Well, no."

   "You see it then."

   "Now, what about the claim you make that… men and women can't be friends? That seems a little bit---"

   "Okay, gay men? They can actually be your 'friend'. But a straight man? It ain't possible."

   "Well… why not?"

   "Simple. Men can be real friends with other men. Women? Can be real friends with other women. But men and women? Simply can't be friends. It's just not possible."

   "Why not?"

   "Tell me the truth, Miss Merry. Tell yourself the truth. You name me one straight male friend you ever once had? Where there wasn't some kind of… oh, you know… the guy liked you at first? Then, you got to be 'friends'… Or? You kinda liked him, and he was into someone else. Then, it turned into 'friends'… am I right? You's can sit there, and think about it. You know I'm right. There is always some… undercurrent with one of them for the other. Always. Go on, you sit and think. Tell me I'm wrong."

   "I… holy shit. I mean, you're kinda right… in a way…"

   "Am I kind of right? Or… am I just right. Go on, take your time at it, ma'am. Think of one time, there was not some attraction on one side or the other."

   "Well… adults? Can get over that awkward part, Rob…"

   "Miss Merry? No. They can't. Pretending it ain't the way it actually is? That's that modern Yankee incorporated bullshit. Everyone agrees to play 'let's pretend'. Pretending how you wish things should be? Ain't the same as things being that way."

   Merry sat and thought a little while, and started to speak several times… yet, had to stop herself. She would try to rephrase it? And again, only a start that never took off.

   "I can see on your face, ma'am, you're starting to get it. Here. I won't use you as an example, let's you pick one of your girlfriends. Surely, you have at least one girlfriend, that has a bunch of guy friends. There's always girls that have all these guy 'friends'. You thinking of one?"

   "Oh, yeah…"

   "Now. I'm willing to bet, that each and every single one of her guy 'friends'? Started out as some guy that really liked her. Tried to go out with her. She friend zoned them. Simple as that. Am I right?"

   Merry sighed…

   "Yeah."

   "Okay. Panic, what's that you call those guys?"

   "Oh, the 'Beta Male Orbiters'…"

   "Yeah! Thanks. Those guys, they can't get with her, so, they take what they think is the consolation prize. They become one of her friends. They are like planets, orbiting the star. They just follow her around, like the moon follows the earth around."

   "Well… okay…"

   "My crystal ball says? She can pick up the phone, and have one of those beta orbiters… come over and move her furniture. Loan her money to pay a bill. Borrow anything she asks for. Am I right?"

   "Yeah, some women are pretty bad at that kind of thing…"

   "How many times does one of the beta orbiters borrow money off of her? How many of them ever get her to do things for them? Its all one sided. Isn't it?"

   Merry sat thinking… and Rob smiled and continued on…

   "Friend zone? Bullshit, Miss Merry… that's voluntary slavery. What's the best any of those guys can ever hope for? Some lame ass, drunken pity fuck, if she needs an ego boost to get her through a dry spell. A dry spell between real boyfriends. Maybe, and I mean just maybe… one of them gets 'promoted' to 'temporary boyfriend' until she finds a new real man."

   "Well, actually Rob, you're right about the whole friend zone deal. There's a lot of articles about it. How to get out of the friend zone, is one of the more popular article topics, for the guys… how to turn a friend zone into a real boyfriend without screwing it up? Is the more popular girl version of the same thing…"

   "All a bunch of bullshit, Miss merry. Sorry to be blunt."

   "Rob, there's a lot of truth to what you say, but, you do paint with a very broad brush. It's not like once in a blue moon, friends don't sometimes get together then stay together. Even get married. It happens sometimes…"

   "Oh, no. I know it happens… but that's the biggest crime of it all."

   "How?"

   "What. After years of watching your favorite woman give it up to all those jerks, and her enjoying every minute of it… while she uses you to feed her ego, and for whatever slavery she wants out of you. What the fuck, after she's older, and been around a bunch? And she runs out of options? Then, you get to come in. Pay her bills. Do what she says. Raise some other guy's kids? What the fuck is that supposed to be. That ain't a real adult relationship… that's the man being a fucking doormat."

   "Rob. That's… really harsh."

   "Harsh, but… isn't it true? That's about all the 'modern' relationship is. Everyone fucks around until they're spoiled milk, been with this one, that one, the other one. Married how many times. Kids here, kids there. Oh well. We're going out to dinner with both our ex's next weekend… bunch of bullshit is all it is."

   "Rob? Let me ask you, then. You meet a woman. You like her, she likes you. You're hitting it off good… what do you do about this… orbiting friend zone."

   Everyone started laughing… Merry wanted to know what was so funny.

   Panic went for his usual dry delivery…

   "They think it's humorous, that you're asking Rob, for ideas on your articles…"

   "Okay. Well, how do you handle it. What's the answer."

   "Oh, that. Right off the bat… the woman knows I'm interested. I'm right up front about it. Does she want to be with me? That's fine, but, this shit show has to end. Period."

   "Well, how do you end it?"

   "Easy. We throw a big party. Her place. ALL her friend zones are coming over for a big fun party. I buy all the best booze, all the best food, anything. In the middle of the party? I stand up, and I inform them all. Enjoy the party, enjoy the food and drink, all the fun. Because, when the party's over? The party's over. I will never see or even hear from any of you ever again. No more coming around. I'm her man, you all ain't… this ends, and it ends tonight. She him haws? I'll leave for good, right then and there. If she agrees with me in front of them? That's it. I tell them straight out, I so much as see a text or a phone call? I will knock you the fuck out. I politely explain, that if any of them doesn't approve of this? We can settle this right now."

   "A drunken brawl? That's your recipe for a good relationship? Jesus, Rob…"

   "Miss merry… what brawl? Ain't never been one yet. Done this a couple times already. Don't matter how many of them is there. Not a one of them, has ever even tried to say a word. None of them ever leave, either. They just finish the party, then that's the last I ever see or hear from them, usually. Several have come to me, much later on, and actually thanked me, believe it or not."

   "They thanked you for being so mean to them?"

   "Mean? How's that… I'm not hurting them, I'm setting them free. They were nothing but slaves, being taken advantage of. Never able to have the woman they're circling, never able to move on and find their own real woman."

   "You're serious. Some of them came back later on and thanked you?"

   "Oh yeah, oh yeah. The couple that came back like that? Every one of them, said they did what I did, and that now they have their own woman to themselves. I like to think of myself, as single handed freeing slaves from the plantation. Some of the slaves I free? Go later, and free other slaves themselves. God almighty, if I could get a few more guys doing this in a few places, we could actually get somewhere to fixing all this modern bullshit everyone pretends is real and it ain't."

   Merry stopped talking. Took a sip of Skykid's homemade gourmet wine. She idly complimented Skykid on his home wine making, and he made a joke back that he made real wine, not "prison hooch" like people make starting out in the hobby of wine making.

   She furrowed her brow, then looked back at Rob.

   "Miss Merry? I know you's studying male female relationships, you talked about it. I'm not trying to make fun. I'm not trying to… wreck your whole… world of magazine articles. Honestly. I'm just trying, to give you a different view of it."

   Panic cut in. He made a patting motion in the air.

   "Rob? Down boy. Let me check… Merry? Is this going okay? We can change the subject…"

   "Ah, no. I… this is interesting. Rob? One way of studying male female relationships, is that you study mammals. Humans are mammals, so, we share a lot of mating stuff with them. Packs of dogs and troops of primates are considered good study packages. It lets the people studying human relations, see where it all came from."

   Rob agreed with her.

   "That makes sense."

   "Yeah, it does. Another way of studying male female relationships? Is… the chemistry of it. That's not my thing, but, the stuff they discover in the chemistry of males and females? It lets you… see things. How the animal pack got where it is, with this underlying chemistry."

   "The animal pack, or, the human pack?"

   Merry lifted her eyebrows and smiled…

   "Both. But, there's another branch of people, reading all the research from these studies, and they're trying to put it all… together, and boil it down to books and articles. This is where all the women's magazine articles come from, and yes, some of them seem silly. Hell, some of them are silly. But, it's where the articles come from."

   "Is this where the men's magazine articles come from too?"

   Merry chuckled.

   "Yes, I'm sure it is."

   "Miss merry? Why are there 600 articles for women, and only a few articles here and there for men?"

   "Well, to be honest. And, I think Rob likes honesty, doesn't Rob?"

   Rob smiled sheepishly.

   "You noticed."

   "Yeah. You're real subtle. But, I picked up on it… but seriously, there's some push in the world. Been going on the last 20 or 25 years now. I'm pretty sure it's what you call the 'modern bullshit'. You know, men and women are born the same, and society just raises them to be different… right?"

   "Yes ma'am. Modern bullshit. I mean, to me."

   "Yeah. Well… a lot of it? I think it really is complete bullshit."

   Rob was amazed and his face showed it…

   "Really? Hear ye, hear ye!"

   "Yeah. Everything I read from the… science world on the chemistry of love, we could call it that? Yeah. The science of love is showing… men and women are vastly different animals."

   A voice heckled…

   "How many millions of dollars have been wasted figuring that out in a laboratory somewhere? For fuck's sake, anyone that has eyes and ears can tell that without breaking out the microscopes and test tubes."

   Merry gestured at Rob. A tall guy. Heavyset but without much fat on him.

   "I know, right? I mean, sure, your genetics mean a lot. You have a tall mom and a tall dad, they tend to have tall kids…"

   Merry lifted her wine glass to toast Skykid and his wine efforts…

   "You have a quiet mom and a quiet dad? They tend to have quiet kids. Now, maybe half of that quiet kid comes from genetics, and the other half is learned and taught growing up, but…"

   Rob sat up straight and beamed with pride…

   "Nature and nurture, ma'am. And let me tell you something about nature? You got to plant corn, to get corn!"

   "Eugenics, Rob? Eugenics is kinda a dirty word these days…"

   "It shouldn't be. Ask any farmer out there, in the entire world… how do you get bigger chickens? You breed the biggest male chickens with the biggest female chickens. You can start to see results in only a couple of generations. Anyone who thinks that doesn't work on human beings? Is fucking retarded."

   "Rob? Will it surprise you if I agree with you? The last 25 years, we have been… changing, and… messing around… with the formula for society… and? I gotta tell you, it ain't working."

   A heckler's voice chimed in…

   "Oh, it's fucking working all right, problem is, it's working to turn everything to shit !"

   Merry smiled thin.

   "That's what more and more women are reporting. For a while now. In response to it, everyone messed around even more with the basic human formula, and it got a little bit worse again. The more we try to fix it, the more we slowly break it."

   Another voice…

   "Sounds like someone messing with a car running a little rough, but its running… and they don't know what they're doing, and they keep messing with it until it's fucked !"

   Agreement all around…

   "Yeah!"

   "Golden screwdriver syndrome, ha!"

   "Yes. Men? Are slowly starting to complain more and more, too. It started out with women complaining in women's magazines… where have all the good men gone? Where have all the real men gone?… now though… even the men are starting to stand up and complain. They're starting to complain in groups. Rob? You were laying out the complaint about women running around, and having a friend zone circling them. That's a valid complaint."

   "Sure is."

   "Let's use that as an example. Where did it come from?"

   Rob laughed…

   "Silly women's magazine articles?"

   "Sure, it ended up there. It started out though, in the women's right's movement. The first or second wave of feminists, I don't remember… I'm really not a feminist. We needed women to work in factories and other men's jobs, for world war two. Remember Rosie the Riveter? After the war… most women were happy to go home again, but, some of the women? Liked having a good paying job, and going out, and doing their own thing. The… modern, independent woman? Was born. The flappers actually did it first in the roaring 20s, but, it disappeared for the depression then reappeared after world war two."

   "So, you admit that's a bad thing, then."

   "Oh, it's fine for a few women. Not that many women did it, but, enough of them that it got noticed. Next thing you know? The next wave of feminism comes on the scene. Starts coaxing more women to get into this new thing. Now… let's see you boys raise some hands… anyone here, ever… get into something because everyone else was into it? Thought they wanted that? Actually thought it was going well, until disaster became obvious? Anyone?"

   Skykid giggled and raised his hand…

   "Yeah. My parents? Wanted me to play football. Long before junior high school though, something happened. Long story short, is that I'm not a big guy like Robbie over there. Couple years at little league, things were fine. One year though? Some of the kids were going to be big. And? I wasn't going to be big… I was starting to get knocked around. I mean, I was getting hurt."

   Merry smiled.

   "Let me guess. Dad wanted you to tough it out, right?"

   "Yeah. Mom too. You gotta finish what you start. You gotta shake it off. Look, there's another little guy, he's fine. You can do it!"

   "What happened then, Sky?"

   "Well… the obvious thing, really. I ended up with a cast on my arm and a head injury that took a couple weeks to clear up."

   "So, that ended that, right?"

   Skykid laughed easily, remembering.

   "Oh yeah. Doctor had a talk with me, then he had to have a talk with mom and dad."

   "How did it end up in the end, Sky?"

   "Well. I started golfing with my dad instead of getting hit by freight trains running out of the backfield. I started hanging out with kids working on their dirt bikes instead of playing football. I wanted to go to Voc-Tech for electrical, not play football for the high school team."

   "So… how did that plan end up for you?"

   "Oh. Lot's better. I was an electrician right out of high school. Air Force, electrician there too. Ran around a few years like any young guy making decent money. Met my future wife as soon as I came home. Judy. We had two beautiful children. I branched over into working on video game cabinets and vending machines, and… I gotta tell you, Merry. Ask anyone. I'm either a happy frog? Or, I do a damned good job of faking it."

   "Got pictures, Sky?"

   Skykid had pictures. The wife. The kids. The dog, the cat. The little farm property. The small herd of sheep and goats and pigs. Pictures of his "wine lab".

   "Wow. You're really happy now, aren't you?"

   Skykid smiled easily. His overall happiness level was obvious for the world to see.

   "Good for you, Sky. Good for your wife and kid… good for the animals in these photos too, huh?"

   Skykid laughed.

   "Well, except for Ziggy. Ziggy got the short end of the stick, but, everyone else is pretty happy about it all…"

   "Now, Skykid. You don't have to answer this, but… was there ever any…"

   "I think I know where you're going. Did me or Judy ever run around on each other?"

   "If there was no actual cheating happening, were there any problems, that could have led to cheating."

   "Little stuff. See, when we first got together… Judy had an ex boyfriend. She broke it off with him… he was stuck on her. She actually kept it from me as best she could, because she didn't want me getting into any trouble. One of her friends ended up telling me."

   "I guess he was playing that game that as long as he didn't break the cop's laws, he couldn't be touched. Maybe his plan was to get me in jail, then he could try to get her back? Who knows exactly what he was thinking."

   "Can I hear what happened?"

   "No, it's fine. I'm not ashamed to admit, I had to chase him around with a big wrench, acting like I was really trying to mash his skull in. You know, just missing every time? Because I was too mad to control myself?"

   "That work?"

   "Yeah. It worked."

   "Were you prepared for what happened if you had to hit him? Or, if he fell down and broke his neck running from you?"

   "Yeah. As long as I don't kill him, I figured I was risking, what… couple months in jail, maybe a year at the most."

   "You… I'm making assumptions here I shouldn't make. Tell me then, were you the… type of man, that violence would have been your normal reaction. Would people expect that out of you?"

   "Oh, no. Surprised the hell out of everyone."

   "How did it all work out in the end?"

   "It was a small town. I can report no further issues like that one happening after that."

   Rob raised his hand, like a little kid in a classroom.

   Merry giggled, and put on a fake teacher's voice for comedic effect…

   "Yes, Robbie. Go ahead…"

   "Ma'am? I just wanna point out a few things. Most… professionals in a magazine or a talk show? Would just go on and on and ON… oh lord, violence isn't the answer. What are you teaching your kids, to handle everything with violence. You're supposed to all sit down and talk this out, blah… blah… blah…"

   "Well Rob. What wold that have led to, do you think. Hmm?"

   "Until Skykid made a legitimate show of force? This shit was going to keep going on. A shit show that never ended. I just want to point out? Violence works. Violence? Is the gold standard in a way. Like I always say, that situation? Just needed a man's touch. Good job, Skykid."

   "Thank you, Robbie. Coming from you? That means something."

   "Uhm, You boys forget I don't know everyone and their back story here. Why is Rob… the violence expert?"

   Panic giggled.

   "Oh, Rob was a kickboxing champion. Marine. Makes a living as a bricklayer and a self defense instructor. You look up 'hard ass' in the dictionary? There's a picture of Robbie next to the definition…"

   "Oh my. Little Robbie, you are just all boy, aren't you."

   "Yes ma'am. Now, don't you go thinking I'm some nut, some loose cannon. I'm polite. I'm fair. I will be as understanding as I can possibly be, but, when it comes down to it? I will politely explain what is just about to happen if the shit show doesn't stop."

   Panic smiled…

   "Little Robbie here? Anytime he's on site at any RLB gathering… Robbie is our unofficial sergeant at arms. And, unless I miss my guess, sergeant Robbie has been accompanying the owner's wife and kids into town, yes?"

   "Yes sir. As per Speedy's instructions. If I'm not here, some of the others take turns handling it."

   "Rob? If I were to be sleeping in… fishing… working the bait shop… would you do me the favor of seeing to escorting Miss Merry if she wanted to make a trip to town?"

   "No problem. Skykid… we got room for one more on our 'escort' list?"

   "Oh. I think we can squeeze her in."

   "Miss Merry? This conversation got all started up, on account of Panic having you ask me about… trust issues and such. Do you… know what you wanted to know, or… "

   "Oh. No, I'm fine. Thanks for all the talk about this. I'm always gathering up different viewpoints on this stuff. I definitely learned a thing or two."

   "Well, Miss Merry… do you have any solutions for all the problems? Or are you just trying to convince people that there even is a problem."

   "I've only come up with one solution, if you even want to call it that. But, practically nobody is going to look at it, sadly."

   "Come on, Miss Merry… when us boys sit around a campfire and eat and drink? We solve all the world's problems in one night. You're here with us, you gotta help solve the world's problems too. Go for it. What needs done?"

   "It's not so much what needs done, as much as what needs undone."

   "Keep going…"

   "Rewind the clock to the 1950s. World War two was over. The war machine had built up the manufacturing base and it was turned effectively to peacetime production. Cars instead of tanks, Radios and TVs instead of radar screens. Most of America, lived in small towns. The values of small town people, were more along the lines of what you boys here would, I'm pretty sure, approve of."

   "Panic, you didn't tell us you had such a smart girl to bring with you, we thought she was just a pretty face."

   Panic smiled…

   "Go on, science girl. Preach to the choir…"

   "Thank you. Anyways… small towns had a huge number of things that they had slowly learned to do over time. A typical small American town, packed in a surprising number of businesses and people and jobs and everything else… in a surprisingly small amount of space. And, they were all over. Added up? They were, essentially, America itself."

   "Lets look at poverty. If you were poor, you could still get married, and have a kid or two. The alleys had cheap apartments people could live in for about a week's pay. Mom might bag groceries, dad might pump gas. You didn't need a car to get to work and home again. You could afford to live, and work, and spend your life in… a 12 block radius."

   "Those poor kids? Went to the same school as the richest kids in town. The factories were down by the river and the railroad tracks. Then town… then houses… and the big rich houses were at the top of the hill. The guy that owned the factory? Lived in that same town. His kids went to the same school as the poor kids did."

   "There's more. If the rich guy thought he was going to make everyone work longer hours, for less pay, to make more money? Problem. The owner and his wife? They lived here! They don't want their kids getting static at school all day every day. The dad wanted to go out to the same bar as everyone else, he didn't want problems there. The wife wanted to be out to lunch at the diner, she didn't want static all day every day when she went shopping."

   "The town could put gentle social pressure, on the rich owner? To… do the right thing. If the school wanted new math textbooks? They had a rich guy to go to, to ask for new books. His kid went there too, they had a good chance he cared."

   "Everyone? Shit in the same pit. From poor drunkard, up to the richest business owner. And everyone in between. Every small town had a doctor. If you were dirt poor, and your kid broke his arm and needed a cast? You had an excellent chance of… rebuilding the doctor's motor to pay him back. Or, your kid could cut his grass all next summer. People knew each other, and could trade."

   "People had it in their best interests to help one another. Crime was low, and everyone was on the lookout for who the thief was. The cops? Lived in the same town. Knew everyone. Knew who to watch out for, and who could be trusted."

   "The architecture and the street planning, reflected all this. The main streets were lined with big, tall, brick buildings. Many floors high. Stores and businesses on the street level. Things like doctor's offices and professional offices on the second floors. Apartments above those. There was an alley between every two streets, and an alley connecting the middle of every two streets. This created a lot of places to put things you need out of sight. Dumpsters. Gas stations. Repair shops. You name it."

   "I'm telling you, there was a place for everyone in these small towns. Take Panic here… I know he has a thing for electronics and radio and stuff. I asked him once, what he would have done, if he was in 1950 instead of today. He said, he was sure he would have hung out at the radio and TV repair shop, until the guy gave in and let him try it."

   "Homeless? Was almost unheard of. Crime was very low. Violent crime was very low. It was considered shameful to get divorced. If a man beat his wife and it showed? Some man in town, probably someone related to Little Robbie here, would smack him around and let him know what it was for."

   "Under this small town system? It wasn't like today. A man could measure his own worth, in ways other than how much money he made. If you were a relatively poor guy, but, you were simply the best engine builder? Anyone that wanted to have a fast car, pretty much had to be on your good side, to get your magic wrench waved over their own car. You were more concerned with your prestige around town, than you were how much money you made."

   "There were only so many rich guys sons in town, for the women to fight over. After that? Women had lots more to pick from. The best mechanic. The best this. The best that. The men that were the best hunters in town? Were highly sought after by even the rich guys… everyone wants to go out with the best guides to hunt. See the system we had?"

   "Values came out of this system. If you didn't help your neighbor when they needed help and asked? The other neighbors would refuse to help you when you had the next emergency. Parents tended to stay together no matter what. Anyone who claims that single parents raise kids as good as two parents? Is on drugs, the numbers don't support it."

   "Dad didn't have to move around from job to job and relocate the family every couple years. You inherited your parent's house when they died. Grandpa lived with you the last years of his life, when he could no longer take care of himself. The town, and the people in it? Largely took care of themselves."

   "Even people with mental issues? Were taken care of, with no out of town help in most cases. If a kid was born retarded? In a small town, there was a place for him too. A janitor's helper at the school. To sweep up and take out the garbage somewhere. They could have their own life, and their own place to live too."

   "Now remember. It's about the quality of your life, and how good you feel about it. If you didn't make a lot of money, but, every guy in town looked up to you because you had 'skill X'… well… rich or poor, you could walk around town with your head held high. You were a somebody, damn it."

   "Let's even look at the darker side of humanity. Serial killers? Were few and far between in small towns. They tended to get caught after a few murders. How about people that molest little children? You can't go around snatching children in a small town. Not for long."

   "This was all developed slowly over a 200+ year period of time. Was it a perfect system? Hell no. But, it worked. It worked fairly well. So, what the hell happened, right?"

   "Someone first got the bright idea, to help the poor people. They started building these big apartment buildings, called them projects, and started giving apartments to these poor people. Giving them welfare. Food stamps. Etc."

   "What did we find out? People like to say 'poverty breeds crime' to explain what was so wrong with the projects. But, that's not completely true, is it? No one wants to admit, that fucking HARLEM itself? Was a safe place to visit in the roaring 20s. A-l-l the rich city people, used to love going to Harlem. At night! Stayed late! All the best jazz clubs were there! Poor blacks and rich whites? Were drinking and listening to famous black jazz musicians, all with no problems like you would expect."

   "Now, this makes some people uncomfortable to talk about it, but… Harlem. Pictures of it from back in the day? You see rows of these little houses the black people lived in. Glass in every window. Painted doors. Flowers in little pots. Other than the fact it was almost all black people? There was nothing else to distinguish it from any other poor white community in any major city."

   "So. Once again? Poverty… does not breed crime. In fact, we don't SEE poverty breeding crime, until after we start messing with the system. They built projects, and they basically uprooted the poorest people from every small town in the area… and dropped them off in this apartment housing projects. It was a complete disaster, and it's been downhill ever since."

   "Back when all these poor people were freely distributed, a couple in every small town? Naturally distributed. Everything was fine. The children of these poorest people? Went to the same school as the richest kids in town. The poorest people and the richest people? Were rubbing elbows, every day, all day. Eating in the same restaurants, drinking in the same bars, going to the same high school sporting events, cheering for the same kids playing together."

   "What did the rich business owners do? The same thing they did in European small towns. Everyone knows, that every small town has a couple of whiz kids, and everyone knows who they are. The business owners? Used to send them to college, to educate them out of their own pocket… so they would come back and wear a suit and be an important manager for the factory. If you were truly smarter, and worked harder than everyone else? You got picked out and sent up the ladder."

   "None of this cost the government a dime. Every small town had a school right in town. No buses, and everyone could walk to it. Go out for lunch on foot. Walk home after. Cheap. Effective. I mean to tell you? The results were better! Illiteracy was almost unheard of. Everyone could read and write. Every man in town could read the newspaper cover to cover. Everyone, men and women, could add subtract multiply divide. Do decimals and fractions. Figure out six percent tax. The whiz kids? Still got prepped for college, with higher math and literature like they needed for college."

   "This bred pride. People were proud to live in what they thought was their town. Rich? Poor? Lived, worked, and ate and drank together. Food was relatively cheap. Housing and rent was relatively cheap if that's what you could afford. You didn't even need a car, to go to work and go shopping, it was all there for you. If the shoe store was the next town over? There was a bus or a trolley."

   "None of this? Cost the federal government a dime. The town decided it needed a… playground? A park? The city leaders got together with the men of the town… who volunteered to work and build it on the weekends. There's pictures and paper records of all this going on. It's documented."

   "How do you fuck this up? Pretty easy, as it turns out. You go out of town, and you build a housing projects. You take all the poorest people from the surrounding towns, and you stick them there. You uproot them from their jobs, and apartments, and lives… and you stick them together there. OUT of the towns. You give them food stamps, and free housing and utilities."

   "Now? Everything goes haywire. It didn't take very long, either. Within a short 20 years, it all went downhill fast. As it turns out, when people buy their own poor house? They like it. They take care of it. They don't break their own windows. They keep it painted. They plant flowers. They mow the grass. When they have their own tiny little apartment in the alley, up three flights of stairs to get to it? They like it. It's theirs. They got it themselves."

   "When their kids go to school? Equal opportunitites! Same school, same books, same teachers… as the rich kids had access to. Same sports teams to play on. They didn't own businesses, but, they could work for those businesses. The poorest kid in town was a track star? A star football or baseball player? He walked around town like he was ten feet tall!"

   "Now, this is when things are running normal in the small town. What happens when disaster strikes in a small town when we just leave it alone. We have plenty of documentation. The river has a bad flood. Everybody, and I mean simply everybody, rich and poor? Pitches in, and runs down to the low part of town, and helps. ALL the men, without being told, assemble themselves and march right down and move everything, in every house, up to the second floor. All the houses, all the businesses. All the trucks from all the businesses? Get used to move things. For free! It doesn't cost anyone? Anything."

   A voice chimed in…

   "Small towns, take care of their own."

   "Yes! They do! To live and work and die in these small towns? Was just like being in a big family. Now, any family might have a couple richer people, a couple poorer people, and most in between, right? What happens when you all get together? For the most part, nothing really bad. Some teasing, that's all. But, it goes in both directions. The rich people can show off what they have, but, the poor people? They get to tease back. You can't fix your car, you can't do any real work, etc."

   "Family. Community. Everybody has their place. The poor people in a small town? They're a source of cheap labor. You want your grass cut? You want your garage painted? You need help for a week or two bringing in the crops on your little farm on the edge of town? You have somewhere to go to get it. And? You know who you're getting. No secrets in a small town."

   "And, it shows. When you go out to eat? The rich family you cut their grass for them every week? Its all, 'Hey, Mikey! Sit over here!". That rich family invites your family over for the weekend BBQ. The rich people? Can't make too much fun of the poor people. Do you wanna cut your own grass, and paint your own house? No, when you're rich… you don't. And, if you fuck with these people, and don't treat them well? You'll learn quick, they'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and cut your own grass. The next rich family next door? Is happy to steal your good worker."

   "You can see this in the old photos. If you take the time to go and get the school yearbooks, and figure out who everyone in the photos are? You see this, clear as crystal. The rich people, at the rich people's party? Easy to identify. Who are those people, though? You track it down, and you soon find out… those are the dirt poor people. You take care of them, because they help you. They do you're work for you, they babysit your children. The rich and poor kids? Grow up playing with each other, and as everyone knows, little kids don't give three shits who's rich and who's poor."

   Panic was sitting back, and watching all of this. Merry had everyone's rapt attention. They weren't bored. This was new and interesting, and they were all paying attention to her little… lecture. If she quit? They egged her on, to continue. It was as if she were providing a lecture in a classroom somewhere, and the students were engaged in the subject matter. She didn't have to try to manage it, it was happening naturally.

   "Now. Up until the big change? If you go back and look at the papers people wrote on things like sociology and psychology, studying the people in these small towns… this… sense of family comes shining through. Word association. Now, if I say 'poor people' today, what's the first words that pop into your head? Most people will say 'stupid', 'lazy', 'criminal'. Guess what the number one word association for 'poor people' was back then? Almost everyone said 'hard working'. That's rich people, and poor people. Everyone said the same thing."

   "On the flip side? Rich people weren't hated by poor people like it is today. You see, if that millionaire didn't live up on top of the hill? There wasn't a factory down by the railroad tracks. Which meant there wasn't a bunch of houses. Which meant there wasn't a bunch of small businesses. The rich people needed the poor people. The poor people? needed the rich people."

   "Miss merry?"

   "Yes…?"

   "This is all… interesting. But, you started out? Talking about male and female relationships. This is all… social… and economic talk. How does this figure in with how men and women deal with each other?"

   "Well, under this small town model… remember. All the kids are going to the same school. Playing together. Everyone is rubbing elbows all week long. Rich people and poor people, are largely enjoying the same things. In the same places. Together. The men? They drink together. They eat together. They go hunting and play sports together. We see this, in all the photos of the time. What you don't see? Is what we call social stratification. The rich people live here, and eat here… and the poor people? They eat there. Go to school there. That? Creates big problems over time, and I would like to add, problems that if you let it go on for very long? You really can't fix."

   "But really, the relationships between men and women? Should be obvious. Men, if you ask them, will tell you what they want in a girl. In a wife. It's fairly universal. Every man wants the prettiest girl he can find. Next? He wants her to be 'nice' to him. He wants her to do things for him. Things like raise the children. Take care of the house. Cook. Clean. And? Above all else… men want to be 'loved'. They expect their wife to simply love them."

   "Now, in a small town… we all know, there are no secrets. You know who everyone is. You know their nature and their character. Different women want different things as their main characteristic that turns them on in a man. One woman? Likes tall, strong men. Another woman? Likes quiet and polite men. One girl thinks smart guys are somehow better. One girl? Wants a guy that's into music. Another girl? Wants the toughest guy. Now… in a small town? All the boys are different, and all the girls are picking them out. They were all raised together, and all went to school together, and all lived and now work together. They know what they want, and they can mill around and find each other."

   "Now, this was a big hairy fucking deal. It was easy to get married, and hard to get divorced. Divorce? Was shameful. You were expected to take your time, and choose what would make you happy. Your parents were in on this. Your friends were in on this. Everyone was helping everyone get together and make a good match up."

   "What do we see, when we go back and look at the marriage records? Look at the tax records? I'll tell you what we find… there's a lot of social mobility. We see poor, pretty women… marrying middle class boys. We see rich girls? Marrying middle class sports boys. Left to themselves, with no outside meddling? We see the truth the old timers told us. Just be yourself, and there's someone for everyone."

   "Women were careful who they dated. Why? Because if you got pregnant, you had to marry him. Men chose their wives they asked to marry them carefully. This was going to be the food you ate, the mother of your children, and what your house looked like when friends and family came over."

   "The children? Did way better. Almost every mother and father stayed together, and really liked each other. And, here's another old timer's phrase that came out of this old system… money doesn't really matter. Men were taught to pick a job that they liked, that they cared about. Whatever it was, whatever it paid. You do better at a job, when you truly like it."

   Merry then surprised everyone, not just Panic…

   "Okay. I just now? Figured out something about you boys. Wanna know what it is? All of you? Have similar clothes on out here camping. You all have similar looking guns to me. How could I possibly tell your paychecks apart, huh?"

   Merry smiled and started pointing at the men…

   "You… you… and… you, back there? You three? You're the rich guys. I'm going to bet, here and now, that you three? Make more money than everyone else here. Now, I know that men when they get together? Talk about jobs and money and possessions. It's universal and normal. But, I'm an outsider. I can't know that… but… how did I do? Am I correct?"

   The men picked out and pointed at, looked at the other men around them. Men were smiling, chuckling. Some good nature pushing and shoving and laughing and teasing.

   A voice popped out…

   "Yeah. How did you do that… that was a good magic trick."

   Merry smiled.

   "Really easy, boys. The instant I put the idea out there, that money doesn't truly matter? You should be happy about your work, not doing it for the money it makes? I saw looks on faces. You three? Made a funny face."

   "What's the point there?"

   "More than one. The most important thing is, until now? I haven't heard any talk about money with the boys. Drinking too. All the bragging I hear? Is about who shoots better at what. I'm quickly learning who's better with a shotgun, who's better with a handgun, who can shoot long range, who can stand up and quickly hit a running shot. Who can work on the guns. I don't even know shit about guns, and you guys are telling me, with your own conversations you've been having."

   "While you boys are here? Money, doesn't matter at all, does it? No. All that seems to matter, is who shoots better. Ability, not money. Your ability is what you work on, and then brag about. Why? Simple… men like to get together, and compete. See who's the best at it. And, money can't buy you that, can it?"

   "There's more. Every one of you? Is here of your own free will. You enjoy this. Outdoors. Shooting. Hunting. Your worth to the community? Isn't measured in how much money you have, it's measured on how much work you put in on this hobby, how much you enjoy it, and how good you can get at it."

   Most of the men furrowed their brows. Thinking.

   "This… is a small town! Ability is more important than money. Success here? Is measured in ability, not dollars! Now… why in the hell do you now think, you enjoy all this so much? Rich, poor, and middle class… all combined together… you're simply men, being men, doing what men do. Work, hobby, competing… in a community. In a family."

   "Now. You three rich boys. Time to pick on you just a little bit. I want you three to answer me, what making more money has gotten you. What do you get out of it?"

   None of them would answer. At first. Merry waited patiently. Finally, one spoke up.

   "Sure, I have a few things. Nice house, nice stuff in the house and garage. Big yard. But… I live in a better town. Low crime. It keeps the undesirables out. I don't have to see a bunch of homeless and crackheads when I drive home. My kids go to a way better school, and they don't have to go to a prison masquerading as a school. My house won't get robbed every year. There, I said it."

   "All right, that's fair. You made more money, and you bought yourself a better life. Low crime. Better school. I'm… gonna go out on a limb? And assume you have a picture of the wife. Probably the kids… gonna guess she's really pretty…"

   "Fucking A… check this shit out, boys… read 'em and weep… hee hee hee…"

   All smiles, a big shit eating grin… out proudly came the picture of what truly and honestly, appeared to be a knockout of a wife.

   Merry walked over and looked at the picture closely. Tall. Blonde. Tan. Gorgeous hairdo. Tasteful makeup and jewelry. Standing in front of a Mercedes. Smiling a 1000 watt beaming smile that lit up the photo.

   "Very nice. Would it be fair to say, that this is what we call a… trophy wife?"

   The man shrugged.

   "Fuck yeah."

   "How did you two meet?"

   "Oh. Car show."

   "Aw, that's sweet. So… you have something in common. You both like to go to car shows? I guess, you were both looking at the same cool car at the car show, and… you hit it off, right?"

   "Yes and no. We were at the same car show. We were both looking at the same car, sure. It's just… the same car… was this little beauty…"

   Out came another picture. The same man, standing with the same woman. Holding a big car trophy in one hand, his other hand was around a pretty blonde woman. The same woman from the photo. Except in this photo, she wasn't dressed and dolled up. She was younger, and wearing cut off jeans and sandals and a cut off T shirt. Simple ponytail.

   "Very nice. You've done very well for yourself. I'm sure you're proud."

   "Yeah. I am."

   "Question. If you had gone to the same car show, on the same day, and not taken the winning car. What if you had driven there in a rusty old Chevy. Do you think, you would have come home with the same girl? Gotten the same trophy wife?"

   "Hmm. You're trying to say, that I bought my car. I bought my wife. And I bought my nice life for my family."

   "There's no proving it, no. Let's… did she know you had that car, before she met you? Or… were you just walking around, met her cold, and you two hit it off… then you show her the car, and it's a bonus for her, that you just happen to have a really cool car."

   "Uhm…"

   "Or… did you show up to the classic car show. Radio blaring. Tires squealing. Hang out with your cool muscle car, all pimped out… girls are crawling all over the car, and you simply picked one out. That girl in the photo."

   "When… you get the first trophy in a car show? It's a custom that you and your wife or girlfriend, are in the photo together. It's a thing. If you don't have a wife or girlfriend? It's customary to pick a pretty girl to stand for the photo with you."

   "Okay. How do we get from hey you, photo… to married with children?"

   "I… wanted to go out and celebrate my trophy. Asked her if she'd like to help me celebrate. With a dinner and drinks. Rest is history."

   "Okay… and what do you do for a living?"

   "Everyone knows. I own a car lot. I sell new and used cars."

   "Is that what you were doing when you met the girl?"

   "Well, my dad had a small used car lot back then."

   "So… I bet you dated some pretty girls in high school, right?"

   "Hell yeah. I wasn't some loser…"

   "Hmm. What kind of car did you drive in high school? Let me guess… a Camaro ?"

   "Ha. Any sch-long can get his hands on a used Camaro… I had a smokey-bandit edition, 6.6 liter Trans-Am. 454 four barrel, four on the floor, nice rims."

   "Used, though. I mean, some rust, right?"

   "Again. I'm not some loser. All new leather seats and interior. Custom paint job. Nice rims."

   "In high school? Nice."

   "It was nice. I dated mainly cheerleaders."

   "Now… look at me, and with a straight face… will you claim that all those pretty girls in high school, and maybe even your trophy wife… would still have went out with you, and liked and loved you just as much… if you drove a rusty, beat up Ford?"

   "I'm not apologizing, for having a good life. I'm not apologizing, for giving my family a good life."

   "Okay, I'm done teasing you. You said, and I hear this a lot… because you have a few extra bucks, you live in a good town. No crime. No homeless. No crackheads, right?"

   "Yeah. One of the perks."

   "And when you go to buy a house, you definitely pay extra, to live in a nice zip code. No crime. No riff raff. Nice school."

   "Again, it's one of the perks."

   "I just wanna point out. That… back in the day? Under the small town model? Every small town? Met that condition. A nice place to live? Was something for everybody."

   "Why would I want to live around a bunch of losers?"

   Merry had slowly made her way over to the guy she was using to make her point, whatever it was…

   "Okay. Just one more teaser? And I promise, I'll have made my point, and I'll let you off the hook, okay?"

   "Thank god lady, you're killing me…"

   "Is Panic over there, one of your friends?"

   "Yeah. Known him for years."

   "Okay. Losers. They live in shitty little towns, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Panic? Where do you live?"

   Panic smiled…

   "Shitty little town. I call it 'Schittsplatt' online, as a joke. New guys on the website, complain they can't find it on the map."

   Everyone laughed, they already knew the joke.

   "Losers. Drive shitty little used cars, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Panic? What kind of cars do you drive?"

   "Point A to Point B… shit-boxes."

   "Losers. Don't have nice jobs, and nice money, right?"

   "Uh huh…"

   "Panic? What was your job?"

   "Everyone knows, it's no secret. I delivered food for a living."

   "Do you have a job now?"

   "Not really. Gave it up to work on this case with Speedy. There was no other way."

   "Now. Is your friend Panic. Sitting right over there. Is he, or is he not, a loser. I mean, a loser, by your own definition. Panic told me, he didn't even have a car in high school. At all."

   "Lady. That… that's not fair. You're putting words in my mouth…"

   "No, I'm not. I asked you things, and you told me. All I'm doing, is taking your own definitions, and pointing something out. By your own definition, your friend, sitting right there… is a loser."

   Everyone was snickering and smiling. She was putting him on the spot, and he was squirming.

   "Okay, I promised I was done, I'm done. Are you curious what my point is?"

   "Curious as hell."

   "You don't think of him as a 'loser', because he's a member of your own group. Because he's a member of your own group? You judge him on his abilities, and not on his paycheck and possessions. You judge him, by how well he shoots his guns, not on his position in life. Am I right?"

   "Well. I guess so. Sure."

   "That? Is my point. Everybody that lived in that small town? Was a member of your 'in group'. You men judged one another, on your abilities, not on your paychecks. All the men? Shared the same values. The poor people? Weren't considered 'riff raff', they were simply workers. Even the poor people? Got to live in a low crime zip code. Got to send their kids to the same school the rich kids went to. The men? And the women? Got married once, and tended strongly to stay married. The kids? Were happier. Rich or poor alike."

   The man she used as her point? Simply said…

   "Wow. You have a way of putting things…"

   "Sorry I had to tease you, to make my point. Do you forgive me?"

   "Sure."

   "See, the American dream? Was once for everybody. From the richest, down to the very poorest. In small towns, all across America. Now? The American dream? It's no longer for 'everybody'… its only for people making a couple hundred grand a year, or better. Everyone else? Has to live with… well, whatever you decide to call it. The American nightmare, I guess."

   "Lady? You're depressing me. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a beer?"

   "Panic? Do you mind, if I fetch your friend a beer?"

   "No, carry on."

   Merry went and refilled him from one of the wooden kegs George had provided them with. Even tilted to control the foam, and wiped off the excess before handing it to him.

   "Thanks, ma'am."

   "Enjoy. I feel a little bad I had to torture someone to demonstrate my point, what was so great about small towns."

   "Are you going to make any more points?"

   "Just one more. Values."

   "Will I be involved in this?"

   Merry smiled. Patted him on the head as she walked back to sit next to Panic…

   "No, dear. You're off the hook…"

   "Salud."

   "My final point. Values. We all know what good values are. We say them all the time. We know them chapter and verse. We repeat these values, like they're carved in stone tablets, but…"

   "But what?"

   "We don't mean them anymore. They've become just words."

   The man formerly picked on, sipped his new beer Merry had brought him. The liquid, dark, creamy, foamy old world German goodness, from a wonderful time long gone by, but for the careful ministrations of George, their absent host, carefully preserving and resurrecting it.

   "Like…?"

   "All right boys. Game time… raise your hands, if you were taught that money doesn't truly matter, that friends and family are what's really important."

   Every hand went up.

   "Okay. Now, keep your hands up? If you have been telling this to your own children, or, if you don't have kids, you have been telling it to other young ones."

   Everyone looked around at each other, and all the hands stayed up.

   "Okay. Hands down…"

   All the hands went down on her command.

   "New game. Raise your hand, only if you agree, that having a nice new sports car, makes it a lot easier to pick up prettier girls than you would get walking around on foot."

   One by one, amid laughter and chuckles and catcalls… all the hands went up.

   "Boys? I rest my case. I know you all believe in good values? But, you have been… bamboozled. Slowly. Over time. Men and women both. Everyone? Thinks they've been raised with good values. But? Almost no one puts those values into practice. When did this happen to us? No one asked us, they just did this to us. Slowly. Over time."

   Rob raised his hand.

   Merry laughed…

   "Yes. Little Robbie…"

   "Miss Merry? When do you figure this change happened?"

   "Before world war two? The small town model, was all over America. Even the city people, adhered to the model and the values. After world war two? The changes slowly creep in, little by little. It begins with the rise of television, and the changes start first in the city, then slowly flows out to all the small towns."

   "Examples!"

   "Here's one. What does an engagement ring use for a stone?"

   "Diamond, duh!"

   "Would it surprise you, that before 1950… only royalty and the elite used diamonds for that? Regular people, tended to use the man's birthstone. Very pretty, different looks and colors, and very… affordable. Panic? What's your birthstone?"

   "July…"

   "Ruby. If you were to give me an engagement ring, before 1950? It would be a ruby."

   "Why?"

   "Well. It actually means something. It's your birthstone. The wedding band? Would have one or more smaller of my birthstone."

   "Which is…?"

   Merry smiled.

   "Ruby, dear. You? Were my late birthday present…"

   Everyone chuckled.

   "Now boys? Why do we know diamonds are the correct engagement stone? Formerly reserved for royalty and the elite. Where did this come from?"

   Shrugs…

   "Movies! Diamonds are a girl's best friend. Diamonds are forever. How much money are you expected to spend on a diamond? Anyone?"

   "Three month's salary!"

   "Yeah. The television, and the movies, taught you all this. Kids today, can't do fractions and decimals, but they magically know this off by heart. There goes another good value we once had. Wanna see? Watch…"

   "What?"

   "Hey. Trans Am boy?"

   "Fuck me, you promised…"

   "Come on. It's all in fun… what do we call a man that gives a girl anything other than a diamond for her engagement ring. What word do we all describe him with, behind his back?"

   Trans Am sighed slowly…

   "Loser."

   "Yeah… and what's the girl that shows off her ruby engagement ring called, behind her back?"

   "A moron, dating a loser…"

   Merry smiled, and held her hands up, as if to say… "there you go."

   "Like I said… another good value, flushed down the toilet. Remember boys, you all truly believe, that money doesn't matter… and? You all just know, that if you can't afford a real diamond? Don't even bother…"

   "She's right…"

   "I could go on all night. The big church wedding? It used to be reserved for people that had the money to afford it. Now? You're supposed to take a loan out for the 'perfect wedding'. The TV showed you that, too."

   Rob started laughing…

   "Tell it, Sister Merry! Tell it!"

   "Gee. Relationship. Man and woman. We now start off with diamond only. Followed by expensive wedding. What comes next?"

   "House!"

   "Bingo. When we go back and look at what kind of houses, young married couples typically lived in. Not bums either, normal middle class people? We typically see little 2 and 4 room houses. What today we would call a shack. And? Trans Am, you wanna tell us what we call a man who tries to put his new wife in some 2 or 4 room tiny little thing like that?"

   "Loser."

   "Can't even have the house in a small town anymore. Gotta be in a good zip code. Low crime, good school… all of which used to be in every small town, now? It costs a lot more money. Just to get, what everyone once had everywhere. You now need expensive dirt to build a new house on, the regular dirt is for… losers."

   "There's no end to this, is there?"

   "It goes on forever. How many people can afford to live near enough to work they don't need a car? Anyone?"

   "Right…"

   "You now need a nice car. Your wife? She needs a nice car too. And your wife? Oh, only the very top earners can afford to have a real stay at home wife and mother anymore… she needs a full time career too. Or, most people can't afford the cars and the houses and the zip codes, and… furniture that isn't for…"

   Merry pointed at Trans Am…

   "Loser furniture."

   "Bingo. Anyone here, nostalgic enough, they saved grandpa's furniture? You know, real wood and leather? Lasts forever?"

   Trans Am's hand went up…

   "Wow. Not as materialistic as I thought. I'm impressed."

   "Thank you."

   "Question. Where is that furniture? Proudly on display in the big living room I'm just sure you and your wife have?"

   "Uh…"

   "Hmm. Basement man room? Garage?"

   "My hunting cabin…"

   "And, what do you think would happen, if you tried to put it in the main living room…?"

   Everyone laughed.

   "Right. I know. What's really happening, is that your wife's friends coming over? Would tease her. Take her and show her the new furniture they just bought. Then? Fuck Grandpa's sofa, even if it is freshly reupholstered, and you can't even buy anything half as good today at any price."

   "Ma'am, do I at least get brownie points for trying?"

   "Yes, you do, dear. The problem is? Your wife can't stand the… embarrassment of having 'that old thing' in the living room. So? You and the boys you hunt with… drink beer and fart on it once or twice a year, huh?"

   "That's about it. But? At least I saved it, if it's even just for the hunting cabin. And? As part of the compromise? I… got to pick out all the new furniture next time."

   "Oh. You compromised? That's wonderful. You… wanted grandpa's heirloom furniture refinished and reupholstered. In the living room. Your wife wanted it out of the house, for good. You both compromised… and the furniture is out of the house. For good."

   "Fuck me sideways."

   "But… you did get to pick the new furniture, as part of the bargain, right?"

   Trans Am beamed with pride…

   "Yep!"

   "Hmm. Did you now? Let me guess… your wife went and picked out several pieces of furniture. Then you, the busy man, the important man… came along and decided which one. How am I doing?"

   "Well, yeah. I pay all the bills, I make all the money. I get the final say."

   "Oh, you poor dear. You actually believe you're actually in charge, don't you?"

   "I… picked… which… one…"

   Merry chuckled.

   "Let me guess. You walked in the furniture store. Three sofas lined up. One? All pink flowers. One? All big, bold weird colored stripes… and? The last one, you could live with it. You picked that one."

   Everyone was shifting their gaze from Merry, to him, and back and forth, curious now. He furrowed his brow…

   "Do… you work in that furniture store? I thought you were a steakhouse waitress."

   Merry smiled.

   "Oldest trick in the book. One girly pick, one ugly pick… the third one? That was the one she picked out in the first place."

   His face showed it better than anything… but he still spoke…

   "Son of a bitch…"

   "Dear? Women know all these little tricks. If they don't know them? Other women tell them. Don't feel too bad about it. It's normal."

   "I gotta start watching this bullshit…"

   "I don't really recommend it, dear. You start putting your foot down? Being the man? All it's going to lead to, is fights and worse. You'll end up with some counselor. Doesn't matter what counselor you end up at, you're gonna hear the same shit."

   "Which is…?"

   "Happy wife, happy life. And? It's cheaper to keep her."

   Everyone laughed. It was too true.

   "Everything in America? Has been boiled down to sound bites. These cute sound bites? Easy to remember? They're like jingles on the radio. Easy to remember. Funny and cute. So you all know what's expected of you if you think you're gonna… buck the system."

   "Got a zinger, to finish off this article?"

   "Sure. When you all go home, and fuck your trophy wives, on your expensive sofas that… you picked out? Cut out the middle man next time. Just go and ask your wives girlfriends, what to buy… that's who's really in charge of everything."

   "Can we just go back to drinking and farting? I'm getting depressed now, too."

   "Let me get you a beer… Panic? You mind?"

   "No, go ahead. I don't care."

   "Thanks, hun."

   Merry went and got him as careful a dark German beer as she had Trans Am.

   "Drown your sorrows, dear."

   "Thanks, ma'am."

   "Okay. Let's have some fun. Who wants to see a really funny video?"

   Laughter. Hands went up. Catcalls and good nature teasing back and forth. Merry asked Panic for her laptop out of his back pack. He obliged her. Everyone crowded around the little folding camp table she set it up on.

   "This would be even funnier, if it weren't half as tragic as it really is… It's really two videos, in one."

   The first video, was proclaimed to be a sociological experiment. A number of young women were interviewed, with what qualities they wanted in a man. The women all sat around in a circle in the park, and agreed on things.

   Nice personality. Looks. Good hygiene. Fun. Sense of humor. Money was declared to not really matter.

   Then, the women were showed 8.5 x 11 pictures of prospective young men, with short little bio's under the big pictures. One of the little factoids, was job title and yearly salary.

   The women all sat around and looked at all the sheets, and ranked the young men, from 1 to 10. The young women all claimed to be looking at the faces, and reading about the personality in the bio, but… when it was over? The interviewer showed the truth… without a single exception? The men were not ranked by looks… their salary was the true 1 to 10.

   Then, a thoroughly similar gaggle of young girls was assembled in the same park, and the same sheets went out, but, with different 'jobs' and 'salaries'. Once again? The 1 to 10 followed without a single exception, the salaries.

   It happened a third time, but this time around? No job and no salary. Everything else the same. The result? A completely different ranking. When going on just looks and hobbies, the women ranked the men vastly differently.

   The funniest one? The biggest "dork" young man in the photos? Could be a 1 or a 2, when he flipped burgers for minimum wage, and his hobby was video gaming. When he owned a software company, and made almost a million dollars a year, and his hobby was "traveling"? All of a sudden he was an 8 or a 9. He was a solid 5 to 6, when no money was involved.

   All the young women had proclaimed in the interview, and agreed among themselves… that they were not gold diggers, they actually cared about "people", and not "money". Their choices though? Told a different story altogether. The women did not appear to even realize they were gold digging.

   The second part of the video? The same "dorky" young man, was standing next to a beat up old rusty compact car, with one door replaced, another color. His job, was to try to get a girl walking by to go for a ride, and get ice cream.

   He had zero success. Almost all the women called him a weirdo, and made open fun of him. Their girlfriends egged the woman asked out onward, and said some of the most horrible things imaginable, all jokes of course. Yet… those "jokes" were hateful.

   The best outcome, were women that were nice and polite, and simply claimed they couldn't get in a ride with a stranger, it just wasn't safe in today's world. A few polite girls. Mostly rude and mean girls. And? No rides taken, at all.

   Then, the same guy was put into a very expensive high end rich guy's ridiculously expensive toy sports car. The outcome? The girls all wanted to go for a ride. With the complete stranger. The few girls that were hesitant? Their girlfriends did all but throw her into the car and wave at her.

   One girl? Left her date standing there, and went and got in the car. Assuring her date how it was fine, she was just getting ice cream. They would be back, it was no big deal. The poor guy? Handsome and muscular? Was trying not to get mad, and all but begging her not to go. He finally told her to go fuck herself, and never see him again, and yelled at the "dork" that if he ever saw him on the street? He was going to the emergency room.

   In an expensive sports car, the complete dork seemingly could not fail to get practically any hot girl into the passenger seat, for a ride for ice cream. Same guy, same hair, same clothes? When the same situation had him owning an economy rust-box, with a different colored passenger door? Failed to get even ordinary girls to take a ride.

   Everyone agreed? That last guy must be distantly related to Robbie. After the last test video, they now showed they didn't really go for ice cream. The girls just got driven around the block, and dropped right back off where they were picked up. The girls ridden? Were complaining they didn't get taken out.

   Once dropped back off, the girls were furious. They were slapping and kicking at the… whatever they were, running out to contain things. Cameraman, director, producer, whatever… covering up when the sweet little girls took swings at them. None of the women would calm down in the slightest, until given a hundred dollar bill, and thanked for being part of the test. That? Magically calmed them down a bit. One girl? Tried to bribe the "dork" with the hundred dollar bill she was just given for the ice cream ride.

   The "dork", an actor? Just smiled and refused her. Which had her swinging and kicking at him something fierce, the extras had to restrain her and send her on her way.

   The last in the ending series showing the behind the scenes camera work? Was dealing with the last handsome muscular boyfriend whose date had dropped him for the car dork. He was livid. His body language and face were all business. Everyone had to put their hands in the air, and back away from him. His girlfriend, dropped off, was running after him, trying to grab his hand.

   He grabbed her by the shirt, and bodily threw her away like a rag doll. Pointed at the actor and rented sports car, and stalked off. No one, not even her, dared to approach him again. The video ended with sad music playing, and her standing there crying her eyes out. No sports car, no ice cream, and now no handsome muscular boyfriend. She staggered off crying, clutching her 100 dollar bill, which was now all she had.

   "Wow."

   "Holy shit."

   "Good old fashioned American values, boys. We all think we still have them? Men and women alike? We don't. We're flushing them down the toilet, one by one. Because the damned TV tells us to."

   Trans Am piped up…

   "Now, hold on a minute. These things are… cherry picked… everybody knows, that great looking women go out with complete losers. We see it all the time…"

   "Yeah. They're called 'bad boys'. Most women will admit they like them. Thing is? They like to date them when they're playing the field. They like to cheat with them for fun. They don't look for a 'nice guy' with a 'paycheck', until they're ready to 'settle down'…"

   "All women?"

   "Oh, not all. Some girls? Like to play and cheat with musicians, some like to play and cheat with 'funny guys'… whatever. Same deal."

   "How widespread is all this shit?"

   "Really… really… bad. You want numbers?"

   "Sure. I'm a numbers guy. I run a big business."

   "1 in 5."

   "What… what's 1 in 5… so, 80 percent of the women are… still okay?"

   "Nope. 1 in 5, that's the odds that one of your children, won't DNA test to be yours. That's across the board, from small towns, to the cities. From the richest, to the poorest couples… all across America. That's the average."

   "Oh… that's just in some ghetto somewhere…"

   "Really? The DNA testing companies confirm this."

   "Oh… see, that's 20 percent of the tests coming in… see, that's just problem couples testing. It's a cherry pick, like I said."

   "Nope. Hate to bust your bubble. Problem couples, as you put it? 40 to 60 percent, depending on the company. The 20% not yours rate? That… is the average across all of America. Meaning, if you go plucking dad's hair and the kid's hair at random? Anywhere you feel like? An average of 20% of the kids? Ain't daddy's."

   "Where do you even find this shit?"

   "Well, this all started with a DNA company, decided to put up a 'DNA challenge' website. No one believes it, and they dare you to send the hairs in. There's another part of the website, where people are talking. You get to see people talking and their opinions before sending the hairs in, just to prove it… then… you get to see the hell and confusion resulting when all the 'nope' tests come in."

   "How accurate is all this kind of---"

   "It's accurate, but… naturally people grasp at straws, so… you read the posts? Most of the guys that fail the challenge? Get a second and a third opinion from the other companies that do the same thing. They have yet to identify a mistake made in the diagnosis."

   "Ma'am? Are you trying to ruin everyone's life?"

   "I don't have to ruin anything. It's all in the process of being ruined as we speak, or, already ruined and we just don't know or realize it yet."

   "Any more turds to toss into the punch bowl?"

   "Nothing you wanna see, trust me. There's the 'business trip video challenge', that's an entertaining website."

   "How's that go?"

   "You buy this… alarm clock radio? Its a spy camera. Motion activated. IP or SD card."

   "Okay…"

   "Well. If you're the kind of guy that has money and has important business? Well, you get the clock radio, and… announce you're going on a business trip. When you get back, you can watch what goes on when you're not home, and, well… a week or two business trip? Use your imagination…"

   "Christ."

   "Yeah… they got a website with all the before and after posts."

   "Hmm. So, this is all women that don't work? Stay at home moms, or, moms home part time, right?"

   "Uhm. Stay at home moms, and, guys that work lots of days and long hours, and guys that travel for business, naturally… are the worst. Also? Any regular 'girls night out' with any regularity, is another one. Girls having shopping and lunch dates? Another bad one."

   "So… we all need to make sure our wives have jobs then…"

   "Uh uh… cheating with a coworker, or, someone they meet through work? Horrible. That's the same as the rates for men cheating at or through work."

   "There is just no way this is…"

   "Go on the internet. Type in 'how to cheat and get away with it'. There's sites for women, and for men. You'll shit when you see how many people are on these sites. These sites are very popular, they have click ratings in the tens of millions."

   "I just know I'm gonna regret this, but… what's the sites like?"

   "A splash page, with the basic do it yourself cheater instructions. Couple links, to let you see common pitfalls to avoid and why. Then, there's naturally a big website for talking and exchanging stories and ideas."

   "I just have trouble believing this all---"

   "Do you're own checking, don't trust my word for it. See for yourself. Its not an epidemic, its a pandemic. Remember, this is just the women, mind you. Cheating at work. Cheating at home. Cheating instead of going out to lunch and shopping. Cheating after work… we haven't even brought up the men and their cheating."

   "How bad are us boys?"

   "Not a good way to test that. What is somewhat reliable? Is how many married couples got divorced, where cheating was the primary problem… there's reliable documentation on that. Surprisingly? The women are far outstripping the men. Meaning… more men are getting divorced because of the women cheating, than the other way around."

   "That's weird… all you hear in all the media, is how horrible men are…"

   "I know, right? The women are now worse than you men ever were. As far as marriage being some sacred oath and people taking it seriously? Well, you can just flush that shit right down the toilet. You want a preview? What goes on in some other countries, is reliably what happens next here in America…"

   "A complete train wreck?"

   "Japan? The women have gotten so horrible, that entire swaths of the Japanese men are turning into what's called 'herbivore men'. That is, men that no longer try to date, let alone marry. They completely refuse to try. England? Had to make a law that even if you DNA prove its not your kid? You still have to pay the child support. Why? Because so many of the women can't identify the father? It broke the system."

   Rob started cackling…

   "This ain't a shit show… this? Is a shit-storm. A shit-storm of epic, no, biblical fucking proportions."

   Panic giggled.

   "Biblical fucking proportions… was that pun intended, Roberto?"

   "Aye yi yi, it is now…"

   "So. Maybe now you boys see. Why Pocahantas is so… fascinated… with her little Panic. He's so… different. It's like he's operating on some kind of 1910 era value system. It's like… I just found the last dinosaur."

   A voice catcalled from the back…

   "You gonna fuck him, or, study him like a lab rat…"

   Laughter all around… Merry was standing in front of Panic seated, grabbing him playfully rough by the chin like she did sometimes. When the laughter died down, she simply said quietly and quite matter of fact…

   "Both."

   "So. You divorced and single guys. You want another tip?"

   "Sure."

   "Yeah."

   "Go for it."

   "What's the first thing a girl asks a guy, that she just met? Hmm?"

   "You tell us."

   "So what do you do for a living, and, what kind of car do you drive."

   "Normal questions to make conversation…"

   "Ha. Normal questions for an IRS agent maybe… she might as well be asking to see your last pay stub. Use your brains, boys. None of you are dumb… it wouldn't be half as funny? Except… most guys won't shut up bragging about their car or how much they make."

   "Got any ideas?"

   "Yeah. Cut out the middle man, and get right the fuck down to it. We need a dating website, with no guys pictures on it. Just a picture of his last tax return and a recent pay stub… and a picture of his car. I guess put a dick picture in there too… won't that be fucking romantic?"

   "So, you're saying, there are some problems in America…"

   "Ha. Problems? No, not problems… I say, just break out the wieners."

   "We, uh… we're having roast moose ass…"

   "No, silly. Rome is burning… might as well break out the wieners, and try to enjoy it."

   Skykid laughed…

   "I got the Roman wine… anyone play fiddle?"

   Everyone laughed, then it quickly subsided into nervous chuckles.

   One quiet voice, not yet heard from…

   "Do the Amish have a dating website?"

   "They're not allowed to have zippers, much less electricity, you idiot."

   "Fuck off… I seen them driving a diesel pick-up, using cellphones, websites to sell their overpriced organic shit…"

   "That's the Mennonites, they're similar but different. You're allowed to have electricity and computers and cars, all that… you just only use it for work. In your house? You still have to have candles and traditional shit. The high speed internet? Has to be in the barn."

   "Hey. Candlelight dinner. Hot Amish babe… that could work…"

   "We got internet out here?"

   "No. Just on the phone. Why?"

   "I wanna look up Amish Porn, see what they got."

   Everyone laughed… Panic started chuckling…

   "I'm picturing a bunch of Amish bearded guys, standing around in the barn, looking at Amish porn? Oh yeah, churn that butter, you little slut, churn that butter… oh yeah, roll the dough out, you little whore… roll it out…"

   "I wonder if they still make chastity belts."

   Guffaws of laughter erupted.

   Merry studied Panic's face, him seated, his chin still in her playfully rough hands… while laughter and general boy's fun erupted around them, she got clinical…

   "Move yer arm around. Slowly. Slowly…"

   Panic did so.

   "You're still making a face. How's it doing?"

   "A little better. Maybe."

   "All right. Your choice. You can have a couple drinks, or, you're gonna chew up a pill. Which one?"

   "We staying till midnight?"

   "Sure. Maybe 1 am, 2 am… if you're up to it…"

   "You're in charge of my sleeping anyways, Poke. Pill an hour before we leave?"

   Merry nodded.

   "I have you on a… one drink every hour and a half routine. You'll be fine. We have a couple hours left. Wanna show me off a little bit?"

   Merry smiled mischievously.

   "I have my leather mini underneath the Pocahantas dress, silly."

   "As amusing as that would be? I don't think showing your twat to the boys is really appropriate, do you, science girl?"

   She kissed him lightly on the forehead.

   "It's for research. Plus? I have my loincloth on underneath the mini. You can't see a thing…"

   "What. You don't want the boys to know I ain't getting any?"

   "Silly boy. It was my way of hinting, I might be feeling better. Hmm?"

   "Aw. My shoulder…"

   "I was thinking… just a level one nothing-fuck. Nothing major. No going for 2 or 3. I don't want your shoulder ripped open."

   "Now, let me follow this logic. You're against cheating, all the way around. Now, you wanna prance around and get my friends all hot and bothered. What's a nice Irish Catholic boy like me, to think ?"

   "You know Trans Am over there?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well, you remember how his wife's girlfriends are the ones actually picking the couch out?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Same thing. Boy version of the same game. The more jealous your boyfriends are of me… the more you, will like me…"

   "This technique have… some… scientific name? Cause if it don't have a scientific sounding name, I don't know. It's gotta sound technical…"

   She pecked his forehead with her lips again.

   "Science girl, says it's called… peer approval selection. You know how, if a couple guys buy dirt bikes, the rest of the boys buy one?"

   Panic nodded.

   "Same principle."

   "Sounds like a very technical sounding name for… jealousy."

   "That… is because it is, you silly boy. It's… think of it as… the positive side of… good jealousy."

   "Whatever science girl thinks is best."

   "The flip side? Is that if you already have what your boyfriends want? Why would you go out looking."

   "Science boy is forming a hypothesis…"

   "Ooh. Do tell, do tell."

   "You might just be a complete slut, and this is all just science-technical mumbo jumbo to cover it up."

   Merry smiled mischievously. Poked him in the nose playfully.

   "Yeah? But remember… I'm your slut. I'm not a party favor."

   Panic wagged his head slowly. Calculating.

   "Okay. I still think it's a bad idea. The boys are drinking. You're the only girl here. Someone is gonna get tipsy and touch your ass."

   She kissed his forehead again.

   "Then? They get the taser… whatever…"

   Panic giggled.

   Merry disappeared and came back a short while later, after what everyone thought was a piss break, and had her sedate Indian dress now off and stowed away. Prancing around in her over the knee moccasins, leather miniskirt and leather tube top. Just when you thought you were going to get a serious peek a boo, it was nothing but leather loincloth.

   Half the guys tried not to stare, and the other half were politely stealing stares when they thought she couldn't see them. Someone made a comment and Merry just shrugged. Said she was a girl, and liked to feel pretty.

   Rob came over and sat next to Panic. When she was up and about, getting someone a plate of food or a drink, he would lean in and say something.

   "Your girl?"

   "Yeah…"

   "She… is… trouble…"

   "I know. I just love it…"

   "Yeah. I could see that, I guess. You do realize, someone is going to touch her ass, right? It's like playing the national anthem before a sporting event at this point."

   "Uh huh… that's what I'm waiting on…"

   "You want someone to touch your girl's ass?"

   Panic looked at his buddy Rob, and smiled. Nodded yes.

   "Why…?"

   "Because. See that little leather bag tied around her waist?"

   "Yeah…"

   "She said she has the world's smallest and most powerful handheld taser in there."

   "No…"

   "Yes. She says she uses it working late at the steakhouse. On the bar crowd that comes in late."

   "Twenty bucks says she won't…"

   "I got twenty bucks says she will…

   "Well, if no one tries, it's no bet."

   "Cool."

   They shook on it.

   Didn't take too long. One of the boys poked her in the hip with his finger a couple times, to hand her his wine glass for a refill.

   Merry announced just loud enough for everyone around her to hear.

   "That's the only free one you get, mister. I work the late shift at my steakhouse, and I'm used to dealing with the bar crowd. Anyone puts a finger on me again? I will taser your ass. You've been warned."

   She went and refilled the wine glass from Skykid, who was now standing near Rob and Panic.

   "Guys? This is gonna be good…"

   Rob looked back and up at Sky.

   "We got 20 on it. I say she won't, he says she will. You want in on it?"

   "Eh. No, this could go either way. I'm gonna just sit back and watch the show."

   Couldn't have been 20 minutes later, the same thing happened. It was the guy sitting right next to the one who drew the first warning. He had to have heard her, there was no way he wasn't trying it out on a dare to show off.

   Merry went and refilled his beer, brought it back to him, and told him flatly.

   "I warned you, didn't I ?"

   He laughed and shook his head yes. This was a funny game.

   Merry looked over at Panic, as she seemingly ignored him and idly walked behind him. Took something out of her little leather bag around her waist, adjusted something on the handle, then reached around, and stuck it on his pectoral… he went through spasms, shook, his eyes rolled back in his head. His fresh beer fell down his chest and into his lap, and it was now hard to tell if he had pissed himself or not. He slumped down and slid off his camping chair.

   Merry calmly put her little toy back in her leather pouch, and closed the drawstring.

   Everyone was open mouthed and staring, a few nervous chuckles.

   "What? Did I stutter? I fucking warned them."

   Then everyone erupted in tipsy laughter.

   "It's on 3, boys. It goes up to 9… I don't recommend it."

   Panic held his hand out for Rob to slap a crisp 20 into it. Skykid was all smiles and chuckles. He raised his voice…

   "Jewelry store, boys! Frenchie says, lookee, no touchee!"

   The laughter started out as nervous chuckles, and grew into actual belly laughs.

   Merry came over, and had another folding camp chair she had commandeered from elsewhere. Sat askew but across from Panic, facing Skykid standing behind him, and his friend Rob next to him. She put her moccasins across Panic's legs, and asked impishly.

   "So. Am I in trouble?"

   "Rob? You're the Sergeant at arms… she in trouble?"

   "Nope. She warned 'em."

   "Think I can walk around without getting pawed up now?"

   Panic nodded yes.

   "Told you, I can more or less take care of myself. Well, up to a point, anyways."

   Merry held out her wine glass Skykid had given her, that she had retrieved.

   "Mr. Sky? Would you be so kind?"

   Skykid gave her a half a glass, and added a comical…

   "Oui oui, mademoiselle…"

   "Thank you, Sky. What's this stuff called again?"

   "Uhm. That's the Merlot. Really neutral. Not sweet, not tart."

   Merry pointed at the glass, looking at Panic. He shook his head yes.

   Merry took a drink, then leaned in and gave Panic a few seconds of lip action. Rob giggled silently, and looked back at Skykid standing there, who was giggling with no noise as well.

   Panic came up smiling.

   "That? Was a good year, Skykid…"

   "I try."

   The remainder of the campfire Panic and her were there for? There were no more issues of any kind. The closest was when one guy accidentally reached out to ask for a drink, and his buddy grabbed his hand and slapped it, just in case.

   Merry retired to sit permanently with Panic, and Rob and now Skykid who had gotten his folding camp chair in their little pow wow as well.

   As time wore on, Merry kept track of the time. She finally went and got two metal spoons, and ground one of Panic's pain pills up into a powder.

   "Open. Tongue up…"

   Merry dropped the powder under his tongue.

   "About an hour good for you hun? Or, you wanna stay up with the boys all night. I don't mind."

   "You know, I was thinking. Its fun and all, but, playing cowboys and Indians? That's fun too."

   Merry took another sip of wine for herself.

   "You know, you about never see me drink at all. Do you?"

   "No. I don't."

   "Well… I expect to get taken advantage of, a little later. Just so you know."

   "I'll keep that in mind."

   "You want me… or… science girl?"

   "You got the glasses?"

   Merry shook her head. Apparently in addition to her taser, she had her case with her reading glasses in the little drawstring bag as well. She wore science girl's glasses for Panic and his immediate friend's benefit, then put them away.

   "Hey. Are these two cops?"

   "No hun. Neither one."

   "Are they cool?"

   Panic pointed at Skykid…

   "He doesn't care. He just doesn't do it ever since he was a kid."

   Panic pointed at Rob…

   "He might. Like, once in a blue moon. As long as he's in the mood, and, no one else knows. The rest? Let 'em enjoy their booze."

   Panic leaned in and asked Rob if he wanted to join him and Merry for a little walk. Rob looked at his friend, brow furrowed. Merry opened her palm to show him a little hand-rolled cigarette.

   "Eh. You two go out behind the clubhouse. I'll meet you in a minute or two. Okay?"

   It worked. No one bothered them. Drinking and having fun, none of the other boys even noticed.

   After their clandestine meeting, Rob betrayed no real change easily noticed. Which made sense. After all, he displayed no real change before drinking a couple beers or after. The fact he betrayed no real difference after smoking made a bit of sense. Except…

   Every time he got up to get food or drink, he tipped his leather cowboy hat to "miss Merry" as he insisted on calling her. Said, she thought, "excuse me, ma'am" every time he went past her to the food and drink tables. Said "excuse me, ma'am" every time he walked past coming back to his chair with his scored food and drink.

   Merry finally quizzed Panic on his speech.

   "Yeah, he's from the Carolina's. He's southern, what do you want?"

   After a time, Merry said…

   "It sounds like he's saying… 'squeeze me, ma'am'… every time he walks past."

   Panic smiled and giggled.

   "He is. It's funny."

   Merry finally waited for the next time, and she was ready. When he said, predictably, "squeeze me, ma'am" for the umpteenth time? She simply said "okay…" and reached out for a handful of his junk. Which set Rob off leaping and jumping back, like a cat on a hot tin roof. Merry smiled, Rob was embarrassed, and Panic was chuckling. She never got a handful, but it was the funniest thing Panic had seen all night. Save, perhaps, for her taser performance on the guy that touched her ass on a dare.

   Merry was the kind of woman that could both sit and act all sweet and innocent, which was of course rare. She could also be loud and outgoing and irreverent. Panic liked it about her.

   The time finally came. She showed Panic the time on the cell phone. He nodded, and she led him by the hand following her, to go home to their little cabin. On the way out, there were predictable catcalls and jibes, which Panic handled by smiling and waving like a politician.