The One That Got Away

by Nicky James

I’d worked out a system years ago, a ritual Dad called it, which I performed a minimum of four or five times a day with each and every window and door in the entire house.

Okay, are we going with dad, or Dad? So far, two for the capital, one for the lower case. Make up your mind.

Not a spec of dust on the vanity, dresser, or wooden four-post bed frame.

Ugh. It's a speck of dust. Spec is short for specification or speculation, not a not of dust, or a tiny spot.

Officer Dyani’s voice came through first. “I’m going to lose my fucking job. What the fuck do I do? Jesus. Shit. He’s coma toast. What the hell’s happening to him? Why is he like this? Charlie! Charlie!” “Stop yelling at him. Just level your tone and keep talking,”

Took me a minute to realize the "coma toast" meant comatose. Then had a mental chuckle because "coma toast" is actually pretty apt.

I don’t want you to misunderestimate me. I’ll work hard and sort this shit out.” I glanced up, taking in all the hard angles of Dyani’s face. For the first time since I’d seen him, there was an edge of concern marking his features. Was it for me or his job? “Misunderestimate isn’t a word.” “What are you, some kind of word Nazi? Jesus Christ, stop fixing everything I say.”

Heh. I only do it in my head, or in these notes, now that I've taken up e-books rather than print. ( though I have, in my misspent youth, red-penciled a few physical books if it got ridiculous enough) ---but the only human I ever chapped at was my ex. However, I always termed myself a "grammar Nazi" until I read that the Nazi part was rude, even downright nasty for some people. Now I'm either a " grammar grandma" or a grammar bitch, depending on how I feel, or my audience. Bitch and Nazi are probably more apt, though. proper word usage, sentence construction, punctuation, and spelling are my jam, the only subject in school I was any good at. So sue me if I go off the rails about author errors. I am tickled by this character's quirk.

You’re an arrogant asshole who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up and stand down. You walk around with your cock swinging thinking you’re untouchable. But guess what? If you don’t bend over backward and kiss Charlie Falkingham’s ass every single time he walks in that door, it won’t be Nikola showing you out. It will be someone much higher up because that family has power like you wouldn’t believe and a huge grudge against the Hamilton Police Department for not breaking that case faster. So I’m going to suggest you swallow this hard-done-by, pissy fucking attitude you bring to work with you each day and do your job before you don’t have one. Talking to Charlie like you did? That’s signing your death warrant.”

You were in the room. You heard it. I have no information, and chances are this is all in his fucking head.” “It is in his head. Charlie suffers from severe paranoia, among many other things. He just needs reassurance we are looking out for him. That’s all. It’s not rocket science.” “How?” Corey shrugged. “I don’t know, Dyani. Graveman was the one who took Charlie under his wing, but that man knew how to handle him. Get creative. Try not to be an asshole even though I know it’s your default setting.”

It came back with an error message, telling me pontiak wasn’t a valid entry, and did I mean Pontiac instead? “Everyone’s a fucking English teacher now. Yeah, I meant Pontiac, you piece of shit computer.”

“You were at the damn window watching the street again. Good grief, child. You’re going to be the death of me.” “I’m not a child, and I’ll do as I please,” I mumbled under my breath, but Dad didn’t hear me.

Trust me, no matter how old you are you'll always be his child, his baby boy, or even, as my daughter loves to call her (now nine-year-old )daughter, "my tiny zygote".😂

“It’s just… that’s not a word.” “What’s not a word?” “Irregardless.” “Yes, it is. People say it all the time. I hear them say it.” “It doesn’t make it a word. I have a profound understanding of the English language. I’m just pointing out, it’s not a word.”

“Sure. Text me as soon as you know. I’ll even wave the fee, but not because you’re cute.”

Since we are in correction mode: it's waive, not wave.

“But Odina has more skill. She could teach you better than me.

She can teach you better than I. Sheesh. And here I was thinking this author was going to be a grammar master...

What I hate is fake or pretentious people. People who think they’re better than me or more deserving just because they have money or a better job. All of a sudden, they get this superiority complex. It’s bullshit. We’re all the same deep down. Or we should be.”

Yeah. Tell that to the reTrumplicans.

I placed my hand over his and guided the pace, showing him how I liked it. It didn’t take much before my orgasm slammed into me, and hot cum coated us both.

Aw, fuck me, I knew it. Another cum author. Scrap on a cracker, that sucks, and not in the good way. Add to that the fact that this author appears to be one who drags a story out a good bit longer than necessary, without adding anything new of real note, and I'm calling this a bust. I'd frankly rather read an explicit one page trauma than be slowly disenchanted by vague allusions, trivial repetitions of inconsequential whatnot, and even one sight of come spelled with three letters.

“We’ll stop somewhere on the way to the station. I’ll even pay for your expresso, okay?”

Hee. As a dedicated grammar bitch (which is at the root of my dislike of come spelled cum) this is another word that gets me. I used to watch a lot of art-making videos, some featuring use of espresso to color papers for a distressed or aged look. There's nothing quite like watching someone holding a jar of instant espresso powder, indicating the label, and repeatedly saying expresso. Can they not fucking read? The word is right there, damn it,with no fucking X in sight.

Charlie hugged his paper cup of takeout coffee between his palms, sipping it and humming like it was the best thing on earth. I’d chugged an energy drink on the drive over, and that was enough caffeine for me. Plus, it tasted way better.

I beg to differ on coffee vs energy drink superiority, taste-wise or by any other factor.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated.” “Don’t you mean flustrated?”

Flusterpated? Hey, better than being... pargent? ...pregananant? ...gregnant?

Whoever had put it there had probably used plyers.

Although this is listed as an alternate spelling, pliers is the more usual spelling - even in Canada.

The mattress was gone, but I held the beam of light over the place it had once been. There were tuffs of its innards in the corner like they’d been blown there on a gentle breeze, but there was no breeze. The air was still.

Tufts. Tuff is a type of volcanic rock.

The neighborhood was quiet, but I took a minute to looked down the street in both directions, noting the vehicles in the driveways and parked along the curbs.