L.C. Wright


Month: September 2013 (page 1 of 2)

Book Giveaway

Between now and October 7th, I am giving you the opportunity to sign-up for a free, autographed copy of Castle Grey – A Katt and Mouse Mystery. I will be giving away three copies from the people that go to the bottom of this page and sign in. This mystery suspense novel is the first of my Katt and Mouse Mystery series and is followed by the newly released Long Shot.

Click here and to read the first couple of chapters or here if you want to read the description and check out what others have to say about Castle Grey. Tell your friends about this fantastic giveaway and encourage them to sign up as well.

Only one try per e-mail address.


L.C. Wright

Long Shot – A Katt and Mouse Mystery

Once again, FBI Agent Katherine Katt and Detective Mickey (Mouse) James are thrown together in a battle of wits and wills as a city’s lawmakers are being murdered one at a time.

As a matter of duty, Katt is called in to figure out who could do such a thing. James’ purpose is more personal. His cousin is the only survivor and he’s there to make sure the killer doesn’t finish what he started.

In order to succeed, Katt and Mouse seek the help of someone even more dangerous than the person they are hunting. What they don’t know is whether he’s there to help or is he just using them to finish off what he already started.

Long Shot is the second book of my Katt and Mouse Mystery  Series. I enjoy working on this series because the characters have a chemistry and belong together. I hope you read this book and Castle Grey. To get a copy of Long Shot, click here (paperback) or here (Kindle). Thanks

Castle Grey – A Katt and Mouse Mystery


September 21, 1896


The darkness is where ghosts feel most at home. At least that was what he had always been told. But then, what did they know? Had they ever seen a ghost? Had they ever watched the spirit of a living being slowly slip away while the shell of what once was started to rot?


He preferred the light.

2613 Melrose was his home. The Victorian architecture never failed to raise his moods and the wraparound porch hugged him as if his mother—his long-deceased mother—had returned and blessed him once again with her love. The widow’s walk, though more popular with Italianate homes, fit the behemoth structure as he stood and watched a tall ship leaving port.

It was almost time for his guest to enjoy his company. The sun had yet to make its entrance to the new day. And with it, a new ghost would enter the world of the unknown and Castle Grey would capture the light while taking a life.

With construction completed in 1893, Frances Martin Grey was finally able to move his wife and three children into the huge, twenty-six room mansion that stood overlooking the Monterey Bay. The large monument, inspired by the architect Richard Morris Hunt, was close enough to the water that a short buggy ride could take him and his family to the shore, yet far enough away that neither he, nor his beloved family, would ever have to deal with the scum that Grey hired to do the work at the docks that made him a wealthy man.

Castle Grey, as it became known, was a monument to the wealth he had acquired while stepping on the backs of and destroying the lives of everyone he came into contact with. As its new, proud owner, he was a man of a different cut. Grey had wealth. He was smart. Now in his fifties, he would make the world stand up and take notice.

With street lamps first installed and developed a few years earlier, the lighting of the second—and most private—basement consisted of single-strand wiring considered to be the latest, greatest invention of the day. That room didn’t require heat or any of the other modern-day amenities. All it needed was enough illumination to insure that the women Grey “entertained” could be seen and not heard while he made preparations for their final moments.

Bodies—hidden bodies—rested in shallow graves in many different states across the country as a tribute to the gentleman. The concept of his work was to teach himself the art of death while moving from place to place. Each time he learned something new. And in each place he killed in a different way. There was no link between his previous works to what he now planned. This would be new.

He smiled as the light came on. She would be the first to initiate Castle Grey.




Present Day

Mickey James was once again on the wrong side of a bad situation. Bullets were bouncing off the painted brick walls and coming from three different locations. He was alone but he figured—or hoped—he could hold his own until the Calvary arrived—about ten minutes, he suspected. The bad news was that he had nowhere to hide but the foul-smelling dumpster he hid behind; the dead end street left him nowhere to run. The worse news was that one of Salvatore’s bad guys had managed to get past James and was closing in on his exposed side. Ten minutes, he mused, could end up being about nine minutes too long.

He had been in worse situations, James thought, but at the moment, he couldn’t remember when that might have been.

A bullet struck close enough that he felt the air compress as it passed his head. Intellectually, he knew that ducking would be too little, too late, but his reflexes were honed so he did it anyway. Time slowed down and the Sacramento detective saw, at that moment, a glint of light coming from his left side. It wasn’t much, but enough for him to move a few inches to the right; just enough for another round to hit where his head used to be. It was also enough time for him to see where the shot came from and for him to return the favor. His target forgot to move and, just like that, James managed to eliminate the threat from behind.

Had it not been for the inexperienced criminal jumping the gun, so to speak, there would not have been much of a story to tell his grandchildren, James thought. The way he lived his life, the grizzled detective believed he’d be lucky just to have kids.

In situations like this, with bullets flying, it always seemed like the right time for James to think about what might have been. Of course, it was in such situations that he needed to be thinking about the bullets and not about the family and kids he thought he might have had.

Jamie Robertson was the one. They used to laugh when talking about marriage and her name changing to Jamie James. And right after he proposed, Jamie adored and readily accepted the new nickname he gave her—J.J. To Jamie, it was like they were already married. To Mickey James, she was the breath that gave him life.

Another bullet slammed into the dumpster and shook James back to the present. He couldn’t remember how long the shooting had been going on, but he knew that he was running low on ammunition and didn’t think he would be able to last long enough for his friends to arrive.

Sacramento, the capital of California, is one of the best policed cities in the country. The need for a top-notched police force was made crucial during the elections of 1992, when hostages were taken and used as a ploy to change that year’s election results. Since then, the city officials and the governor made sure that no city in the United States would ever be more prepared. They hired the best cops in the country.

Mickey James was one of those cops. If you asked his co-workers, they would say he was the best. Unfortunately, the river docks area on a Saturday night just happened to be the least patrolled and instead of a three-minute response time like most of the city enjoyed, the timing that evening would be considerably longer.


Nicolas Salvatore was an angry man. The muscular Latino was angry because his drug deal had been intercepted by the cops, costing him and his employers—La eMe, the Mexican Mafia—millions of dollars. He was angry because in the battle with the police, his brother and his cousin had been killed. However, neither of those crimes against his family came close to the betrayal he felt when he discovered that his friend, his longtime brother, had betrayed him like no other. Jimmy Martinez—aka Mickey James, undercover cop—had set him up. Not only did James have to die, but he had to die a slow and painful death.


James fell back into the memory of the day Jamie died.

It wasn’t a strange day. On the contrary, it was a beautiful day, a day of high expectations and hopes. She had just finished telling him that she was pregnant and the only pressure they felt was deciding if they should move up the wedding day. They decided it didn’t matter. They would love each other forever and would love their baby forever and protect it with all their might. They laughed. They even cried a little, with smiles on their faces. That was the kind of day it was. To the two lovers, a beautiful day didn’t necessarily require blue skies or a warming sun. A beautiful day required only one thing—the love they shared.

They kissed goodbye and went off to work.

Less than two hours later, his first call of the day was to investigate the rape and murder of a Jane Doe. The body was in an alley, just like the alley he was currently hunkering behind a dumpster in. She was lying nude, her body contorted in ways that left little doubt of the violence she must have suffered. Her body was prone, but her head was twisted in such a way that her broken neck was obvious.

All of these things James had seen before. There was little he hadn’t seen and nothing had ever bothered him. But as he approached the body, something seemed wrong. The first thing he noticed was the birthmark on the bottom of the woman’s left foot that resembled a butterfly. He recognized it and shivered with the feelings of déjà vu. He couldn’t believe how close it resembled the very birthmark his beautiful Jamie had.

The next thing he noticed was the mole on her back just at that point where her butt turned into the small of her back. He didn’t know the medical term for the spot, but he had fantasized in the past about contacting the AMA and offering an identifying name for it.

Funny thing about coincidence, he mused. Here he was staring at the backside of this beautiful, naked creature who had been so shamefully destroyed and all he could think about was the love he felt for his future wife.

When he moved closer, the coincidences ended and terror struck. Her left shoulder had the distinct markings of the woman he knew only too well, markings as clear as the day they were tattooed. James knew at that moment that his future had changed forever. His scream of agony shook every man standing nearby who carried a badge. And with the scream, they also knew the instant Detective Mickey James saw the engraving—J.J.

James never did figure out who was responsible for Jamie’s death. That was something he would search for the rest of his life or until he brought the monster to justice—the kind of justice that torture and a bullet would accomplish. All he knew for certain was that when he found the man, there would never be a trail.

That’s if he somehow managed to live another five minutes or so.


The night air along the Sacramento River carried sound a great distance and Nicolas Salvatore could hear the faint wail of the sirens approaching. If his plan to kill the man he once knew as Jimmy Martinez was going to succeed, his time was running out. He decided that his only hope was to send his last man into the alley as a diversion and shoot the Judas, James, when he exposed himself.

The two men coordinated their efforts. Salvatore’s man started running up the alley, yelling and shooting as he went. The idea was for him to stay against the same wall as the dumpster so that in order for James to get his shot off to stop him, he would have to expose himself to take the shot. That would be the time when Salvatore would drop his nemesis. What he couldn’t see in the darkened alley was the small gap between the dumpster and the wall. The soldier didn’t get halfway to the target before the last bullet in James’ Glock dropped him.

“It’s just you and me, now,” James yelled. “Why don’t you surrender so we can both live through the night?”

“You betrayed me, you son of a bitch. You have killed my brother and my cousin. You must die. There is no other way to bring honor back to my family.”

“Yeah…well…sorry about that. Like you, I was just doing my job.” James didn’t want to kill the man. He actually liked Salvatore. Working side by side with a person, even a mob boss, created a bond. The problem was that he couldn’t kill him if he wanted to. Big guns don’t matter if you don’t have any bullets. He hoped his poker skills hadn’t eroded.

He could hear sirens, maybe less than two minutes away, and the best James could hope for was to convince the man to give up—not likely—or to leave before the rest of the police showed. He didn’t want any of them to get killed and Salvatore was good enough to take down just about any one of them, possibly several.

“This isn’t going to end well, my friend,” Salvatore yelled. “Let me kill you now so I won’t need to torture you later. That’s my offer. Stand up and die a hero. Otherwise, I will hunt you down and peel the flesh from your worthless ass.”

“With all due respect, Nicolas, I kinda like my worthless ass just the way it is.”

James heard the sirens getting closer now. Maybe he was going to live through this after all. All he had to do was keep the man where he was and hope his buddies wouldn’t die trying to save his ass.

“Come out, Nicolas. Your time’s up. My friends are right around the corner. Give yourself up and I promise that you will not get hurt.”

There was no answer. The backup was close enough that James could see the flashing lights reflecting off the windows at the far end of the alley. Undercover detectives never carried radios and his cell phone had been lost during the chase. He didn’t know if his comrades knew his position and he wasn’t sure if Salvatore was waiting, obscured just enough to get off a shot should the veteran cop expose himself. So he waited. Seconds seemed like minutes until he finally heard what he needed to hear.

“James? Where the hell are you?”

“There’s a shooter out there somewhere…watch your six!” James yelled. There wasn’t any need for anyone to get hurt by not understanding the risk.

A police cruiser turned, facing the alley, and lit up the entire area. Soon they were joined by close to a dozen cars, a couple ambulances and a fire truck. James wasn’t sure about the need for the fire truck, but kept the thought to himself.

James wasn’t sure where Salvatore had gone. His friends would keep looking for a while, but he doubted they would find him. He was just glad nobody else had gotten hurt. Salvatore would be a fight for another day.

“What the hell kind of shit-storm did you get yourself into this time, James?” barked Lieutenant Robert Taylor, James’ immediate boss. “You were supposed to just observe and report. This is like the second coming of the O.K. Corral.”

“Well, Lou,” James replied, “somebody forgot to inform Salvatore about our little plan. It seems that when we took down his drug deal, somebody got curious about how that might have happened. He did a little checking around and somehow connected the dots. I got lucky that he left me with an out.”

“Oh, yeah? So where are the bodies that were involved with your out?” Taylor asked while using the two finger quotations on the word out.

James felt the rise of heat creep up his neck, realizing that the lieutenant would comprehend the nature of his escape.

“A couple blocks to the east. There’s an old warehouse that’s been closed for some time. I think if you check out the office on the second floor, you might find a few of them lying around.”

“Let’s see,” Taylor held up fingers to start counting. “Three back there, two here and— let me guess, the boss got away. Does that sum up your evening’s activities?”

“Pretty much,” James replied. “But, I’ve got a good reason for Salvatore getting away.”

“What would that be?”

“My weapon ran out of bullets. I tried to talk him into giving up anyway.” James smiled. “Seriously…he just wouldn’t agree to it.”

Taylor wasn’t sure if James was telling the whole truth, so his expression remained stoic. Though he had only been working with James for a short time, reading his jacket was like reading the Who’s Who of crime solving. He decided to leave things as they were.

“Any damage to you?”

James was touched by the lieutenant’s concern.

“As a matter of fact…I ripped the ass out of my pants diving for cover. The department is going to have to reimburse me for that.”

“We don’t reimburse for civvies. You know that.”

“I know that. You don’t understand. You’re gonna have to pay off some people for trauma or at the least psychological counseling.”

“What the hell for?

“I go commando.”


 May 3, 2004

Twice the old lady of the Pacific had been scheduled to fall to the wrecking ball. Twice she had somehow managed to weather the storms of progress and survive. The third time looked completely hopeless until a week before demolition, when a private firm had stepped forward and assisted the local historical society in making her a historical landmark.

The problem wasn’t the age or even the historical significance of the building. The problem, like most things after Nine-Eleven, came down to one thing—money. The cost of restoration would be prohibitive and the non-profit simply couldn’t afford what it would take to do the work.

A surprising, out of state benefactor, seemingly from out of nowhere, stepped up and agreed to purchase the property, list it as a landmark as described by the covenants of the society, and pay for all restoration and upkeep. The only provision was that for the next thirty years, the firm had the right to rent the property and use it as it deemed fit, after which the title would be turned over to the historical society forever. The company maintained the right to use it as commercial property, an office, or as a private residence. And because of the significance of the real estate, and a few well-time political contributions, the city and county passed the ordinances necessary to make it happen.

True to their word, CG Enterprises, LLC, immediately started work. Twenty-six months later, Castle Grey was again the beauty she once was.


Writing has always been a dream and now it’s a reality. I hope you enjoyed the beginning and look forward to what you have to say about the rest of Castle Grey – A Katt and Mouse Mystery. To get your copy, click here (Kindle) or here (Paperback). Thanks for sharing your time with me.

Castle Grey

There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. The home of such a man existed a hundred years ago. A rich, egotistical, megalomaniac built it and used it for science as well as pleasure. Now his great-grandson has returned to re-establish the family’s traditions. Seven women are dead because of the curse of Castle Grey.

Tall, beautiful and intelligent, Special Agent Katherine Katt of the FBI was sent to Monterey, CA to find the man responsible for the murders of those seven women.

Detective Mickey (Mouse) James, of the Sacramento Police, was sent in an attempt to hide from the Mexican Cartel and to keep himself from getting killed.

Oil and water is how you would describe their relationship. Katt is a good agent being held back from how she sees herself in the Bureau. James is a bully with an attitude. Castle Grey is their first attempt together to get their lives and careers back on track.

To get a copy of this exciting new book, click HERE for (Kindle) or HERE for (Paperback).

Cartoon Physics

Daffy Duck steps off a cliff, expecting further pastureland. He loiters flippantly until he chances to look down. At this point the familiar principle of 32 feet per second takes precedence.

Whether shot from a cannon or in hot pursuit on foot, cartoon characters are so absolute in their momentum that only a telephone pole or an outsize boulder retards their forward motion absolutely. Sir Isaac Newton called this sudden termination the stooge’s surcease.

Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the specialty of victims of direct pressure explosions and reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house.

Such an object is inevitably priceless; the attempt to catch it, inevitably unsuccessful.

Psychic forces are sufficient in most bodies for a shock to propel them away from the surface. A spooky noise or an adversary’s signature sound will induce motion upward, usually to the cradle of a chandelier, a treetop or the crest of a flagpole. The feet of a running character or the wheels of a speeding auto need never touch the ground, ergo fleeing turns to flight.

This is particularly true in tooth-and-claw fights, in which a character’s head may be seen emerging from a cloud of altercation at several places simultaneously. This effect is common as well among bodies that are spinning or being throttled, and simulates our own vision’s trailing retention of images. A “wacky” character has the option of self-replication only at maniac-high speeds and may ricochet off the walls to achieve the velocity required for self-mass-liberation.

This tompe l’oeil inconsistency has baffled generations, but at least it is known that whoever paints an entrance on a wall’s surface to trick an opponent will be unable to pursue him into this theoretical space. The painter is flattened against the wall when he attempts to pursue into the painting. This is ultimately a problem of art, not science.

Dangerously palpable objects – such as mallets, dynamite, pies and alluring female attire – can be manifested from what might previously have been considered “thin” air, but only when the friction of immediate jeopardy makes the object’s appearance imperative. The controversial “pocket” theory suggests these objects are drawn from unseen recesses of a character’s costume, or from a storehouse immediately off-screen, but this merely defers the question of how any absolutely apt object is instantaneously available.

Cartoon cats possess more deaths than even the traditional nine lives afford. They can be sliced, splayed, accordion-pleated or disassembled, but they cannot be destroyed. After a few moments of blinking self-pity, they re-inflate, elongate, snap back or solidify.

This is one law of animated cartoon motion that also applies to the physical world at large. For that reason, we need the relief of watching it happen to a duck instead.


Hot Air

A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, “Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don’t know where I am.” The woman below replied, “You’re in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You’re between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude.”

“You must be an engineer,” said the balloonist.

“I am,” replied the woman, “How did you know?”

“Well,” answered the balloonist, “everything you told me is, technically correct, but I’ve no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I’m still lost. Frankly, you’ve not been much help at all. If anything, you’ve delayed my trip.”

The woman below responded, “You must be in Management.”

“I am,” replied the balloonist, “but how did you know?”

“Well,” said the woman, “you don’t know where you are or where you’re going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise, which you’ve no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it’s my fault.”


Been there and done that. If you like the way I share a laugh, give Monterey Madness – Mr. One Pocket a try. You’ll be glad you did. Click here (Kindle) or here (Paperback). Thanks

Taco Bell and the $2 Bill

On my way home from the second job I’ve taken for the extra holiday ca$h I need, I stopped at Taco Bell for a quick bite to eat. In my wallet is a $50 bill and a $2 bill. That is all of the cash I have on my person. I figure that with a $2 bill, I can get something to eat and not have to worry about people getting upset with me.

“Hi, I’d like one seven layer burrito please, to go.”

“Is that it?”


“That’ll be $1.04, eat here?”

“No, it’s to *go*.” [I hate effort duplication.]

At his point I open my billfold and hand him the $2 bill. He looks at it kind of funny and

“Uh, hang on a sec, I’ll be right back.”

He goes to talk to his manager, who is still within earshot. The following conversation occurs between the two of them.

“Hey, you ever see a $2 bill?”

“No. A what?”

“A $2 bill. This guy just gave it to me.”

“Ask for something else, THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A $2 BILL.”

IT: “Yeah, thought so.”

He comes back to me and says

“We don’t take these. Do you have anything else?”

“Just this fifty. You don’t take $2 bills? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“See here where it says legal tender?”


“So, shouldn’t you take it?”

“Well, hang on a sec.”

He goes back to his manager who is watching me like I’m going to shoplift, and

“He says I have to take it.”

“Doesn’t he have anything else?”

“Yeah, a fifty. I’ll get it and you can open the safe and get change.”


“What should I do?”

“Tell him to come back later when he has REAL money.”

“I can’t tell him that, you tell him.”

“Just tell him.”

“No way, this is weird, I’m going in back.”

The manager approaches me and says

“Sorry, we don’t take big bills this time of night.” [it was 8pm and this particular Taco Bell is in a well lighted indoor mall with 100 other stores.]

“Well, here’s a two.”

“We don’t take those either.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I think you know why.”

“No really, tell me, why?”

“Please leave before I call mall security.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please leave before I call mall security.”

“What the hell for?”

“Please, sir.”

“Uh, go ahead, call them.”

“Would you please just leave?”


“Fine, have it your way then.”

“No, that’s Burger King, isn’t it?”

At this point he BACKS away from me and calls mall security on the phone around the corner. I have two people STARING at me from the dining area, and I begin laughing out loud, just for effect. A few minutes later this 45 year oldish guy comes in and says [at the other end of counter, in a whisper]

“Yeah, Mike, what’s up?”

“This guy is trying to give me some [pause] funny money.”

“Really? What?”

“Get this, a two dollar bill.”

“Why would a guy fake a $2 bill?” [incredulous]

“I don’t know? He’s kinda weird. Says the only other thing he has is a fifty.”

“So, the fifty’s fake?”

“NO, the $2 is.”

“Why would he fake a $2 bill?”

“I don’t know. Can you talk to him, and get him out of here?”


Security guard walks over to me and says

“Mike here tells me you have some fake bills you’re trying to use.”

“Uh, no.”

“Lemme see ‘em.”


“Do you want me to get the cops in here?”

At this point I was ready to say, “SURE, PLEASE,” but I wanted to eat, so I said

“I’m just trying to buy a burrito and pay for it with this $2 bill.”

I put the bill up near his face, and he flinches like I was taking a swing at him. He takes the bill, turns it over a few times in his hands, and says

“Mike, what’s wrong with this bill?”

“It’s fake.”

“It doesn’t look fake to me.”

“But it’s a **$2** bill.”


“Well, there’s no such thing, is there?”

The security guard and I both looked at him like he was an idiot, and it dawned on the guy that he had no clue.

My burrito was free and he threw in a small drink and those cinnamon things, too. Makes me want to get a whole stack of $2 bills just to see what happens when I try to buy stuff. If I got the right group of people, I could probably end up in jail. At least you get free food.


Finding fun stories is getting to be a lot of fun. But writing fun stories is even better. Get a copy of Monterey Madness – Mr. One Pocket and enjoy the mystery that’ll make you laugh. Click here (Kindle or here (Paperback). Thanks

What Chapter?

A man has been in business for many, many years and the business is going down the drain. He is seriously contemplating suicide and he doesn’t know what to do.  He goes to the Pastor to seek his advice.  He tells the Pastor about all of his problems in the business and asks the Pastor what he should do.

The Pastor says “Take a beach chair and a Bible and put them in your car and drive down to the edge of the ocean. Go to the water’s edge. Take the beach chair out of the car, sit on it and take the Bible out and open it up. The wind will rifle the pages for a while and eventually the Bible will stay open at a particular page. Read the Bible and it will tell you what to do.”

The man does as he is told. He places a beach chair and a Bible in his car and drives down to the beach. He sits on the chair at the water’s edge and opens the Bible. The wind rifles the pages of the Bible and then stops at a particular page. He looks down at the Bible and sees what he has to do.

Three months later the man and his family come back to see the Pastor. The man is wearing a $1,000 Italian suit, The wife is all decked out with a full-length mink coat and the child is dressed in beautiful silk. The man hands the Pastor a thick envelope full of money and tells him that he wants to donate this money to the church in order to thank the Pastor for his wonderful advice. The Pastor is delighted. He recognizes the man and asks him what advice in the bible brought this good fortune to him.

The man replies: “Chapter 11.”

I appreciate you checking out one of the jokes I’ve posted. But if you want to read a great mystery with a lot of humor, check up and buy, Monterey Madness – Mr. One Pocket. Click here (Kindle) or here (Paperback). You’ll love the characters. Thanks

The Nut Case

Jim and Edna were both patients in a psychiatric hospital.

One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool, Jim suddenly jumped into the deep end. He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there.

Edna promptly jumped in to save him. She swam to the bottom and pulled Jim out.

When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Edna’s heroic act, she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her to be mentally stable.

When she went to tell Edna, she said, “Edna, I have good news and bad news. The good news is you’re being discharged. Because you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of another patient, I have concluded that your act displays sound mindedness.

The bad news is that Jim, the patient you saved, hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him. I am so sorry, but he’s dead.”

Edna replied, “He didn’t hang himself. I put him there to dry.”

“How soon can I go home?”


As a writer, I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that you can laugh on a much bigger scale. Get Monterey Madness – Mr. One Pocket. It has great characters and will keep you smiling. Click here (Kindle) or here ( Paperback) to have the kind of fun that keeps giving. Thanks

What Kids Taught Me

You find out interesting things when you have kids, like…

1.) A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.

2.) If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.

3.) A 3-year old boy’s voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.

4.) If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20 x 20 ft. room.

5.) You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.

6.) The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn’t stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.

7) When you hear the toilet flush and the words “uh oh”, it’s already too late.

8.) Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.

9.) A six-year old kid can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old man says they can only do it in the movies.

10.) Certain Lego’s will pass through the digestive tract of a 4- year old boy.

11.) Play dough and microwave should not be used in the same sentence.

12.) Super glue is forever.

13.) No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can’t walk on water.

14.) Pool filters do not like Jell-O.

15.) VCR’s do not eject “PB&J” sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.

16.) Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.

17.) Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.

18.) You probably DO NOT want to know what that odor is.

19.) Always look in the oven before you turn it on; plastic toys do not like ovens.

20.) The fire department in Austin, Texas has a 5-minute response time.

21.) The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.

22.) It will, however, make cats dizzy.

23.) Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.

24.) 80% of women will pass this on to almost all of their friends, with or without kids.

25.) 80% of men who read this and try the brake fluid and Clorox mix…..(but, boys, it’s toxic, so wear a mask)


Would you like to keep smiling? Get a copy of Monterey Madness – Mr. One Pocket. It’s a fun mystery with great characters. Click here (Kindle) or here (Paperback).  Thanks

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