The Binary Biker

Vampires in the Attic

January 22, 2007 by Sparks 0 Comments

I hate the vampires in my attic. You wouldn’t associate a tourist town like Orlando with vampires, but they live here. Well, they’ve lived in my house since the 1970’s. I’ve never actually seen them, but they leave signs. Little ones, but easy to spot once you know they are there.

I was just a little girl, about five years old, the first time I realized there were vampires in the house, and that they wanted my baby sister dead. My baby sister was a little angel; my mother told me, and that was why her name was Angela. I believed her, too; I could think of no other reason why the vampires wanted my sister but that they hated angels.

I tried to tell my mommy about the vampires, but she was too busy to listen. A single mom of two didn’t have time to help hunt vampires, even if they were stalking her littlest daughter. I tried to tell my grandma and grandpa; it was their house after all that the vampires had invaded. After daddy left, grandpa took us in. Grandpa sternly told me that I was acting silly and nonsense of this sort did not belong in his house. I wish he would have said that to the vampires instead of me.

At night, when I was alone in my room, I could hear the vampires in the attic stomping and plotting ways to separate my baby sister from me so they could take her. I would lie in bed all night shivering and looking at my sister’s crib. Every once in a while I would cough or sit up to let the vampires know I was still there. Each night, I left the vampires frustrated. While I was awake and watching, they couldn’t get my sister.

My vigil took a toll on me, though. My teachers complained that I was falling asleep in class and I was cranky all the time. I had stopped actually talking about the vampires; it was clear no one believed me. My mommy had threatened to take me to see a counselor if I kept on about the vampires. She made me go to one when daddy left. I hated it. So I learned to shut up; the vampires were my problem and my problem alone.

I couldn’t keep up the nighttime vigils, though, so I made a deal with the vampires. If I could get them some little girl blood every now and again they would spare my sister. Exhausted, I gladly accepted the compromise.

The next day I had an accident in the back yard. I slipped while I was jumping rope and busted my knee wide open. That’s what I told my mommy. I had really done it on purpose. I smashed my knee into the patio concrete and, crying, had collected the blood in my hands until I had a small pool cupped within. As quickly as I could, I limped to the back of the house and spilled the blood into a paper cup I had placed under the house. There was no foundation; old houses in Florida are built up off the ground. The crawlspace underneath the house was a perfect place for the vampires to come and drink my blood at night.

I slept blissfully for two whole weeks. The vampires kept their word and stopped complaining and threatening every night. They were sated and my sister was safe. Then, one night, I heard them again. They were hungry and needed to be fed and if I didn’t do something they would take Angela.

So began the next eighteen years of my life. Every couple of weeks, I would have an accident and would feed the vampires. The more blood I gave them the longer they waited until I had to feed them again. I quickly became known as the clumsiest girl on the block, and my mommy was driven to distraction, but my sister was safe.

My sister moved out last year, but I still have to feed the vampires. They know where she lives and will go get her if I don’t feed them. Last night, though, they refused my blood. They said they were tired of it and wanted something else – they wanted blood from a different girl.

I hate the vampires in my attic, but I have to feed them. They can’t have my sister and they won’t take my blood anymore. I don’t have a choice. I feel sorry for the little girl that just moved in next door, but I have to protect Angela. I just have to.

(c) Ron Sparks

Fiction

A Single Wish

January 22, 2007 by Sparks 0 Comments

A Single Wish

I was watching
late-night Television;
lost in a catatonic moment
somewhere
between a commercial for
male enhancement
and a rerun of
Seinfeld
when a
waking dream
fantasy
imagining
played out in
my mind’s eye

I rubbed a lamp
and the jinni emerged
that spirit of the
desert
a wasteland my heart had
recently inhabited
to offer me a single
wish
my choices were
many
and I pondered them severely
eternal life might be nice
or perfect health perhaps
to fly faster than
sound
tickled my fancy
I chose none
those paltry, lesser,
wishes were not worthy

I asked instead the spirit
to lead me from the desert
to grant me every
morning by
your side
the feel of your breath upon
my neck
the warmth of your lips on
my cheeks
the touch of your fingers on
my skin
and the feel of your heart beating with
my heart

it was just a
daydream
but I woke with the taste of
desire
upon my lips
and a
hint of my future
revealed to me

I smiled,
changed the channel,
and thanked my
jinni

(c) 2007 Ron Sparks

Poetry

Spank, spank, handcuffs!

January 20, 2007 by Sparks 0 Comments

The California state legislature is about to vote on an issue that could affect parents across the nation; is it legal to spank your child?

The bill, still being drafted, would prohibit “any striking of a child, any corporal punishment, smacking, hitting, punching, any of that,” according to Assemblywoman Sally Lieber. The consequence of this misdemeanor would be up to a year in jail or a $1000.00 fine.

I vehemently oppose this bill.

Corporal punishment is one of the tools that parents have to enforce discipline in their households and on their children. There is nothing wrong with corporal punishment. It is not unjust, unfair, cruel, or spiteful.

Spanking should never be used to physically harm the child – that’s beating and that is abuse. A spanking should sting the pride more than the body – but it should indeed sting both. A child who knows Mom won’t hesitate to put the hurtin on his backside even in front of others and in public will think twice about misbehaving.

We already have entirely too much lackadaisical parenting and out-of-control children, people. I hate to quote such trite phrases but it’s true that if you “spare the rod you’ll spoil the child.” You do indeed get more with sweets but sometimes you have to be sour.

Walk through the mall one ay and look at the children and how they behave. A good gauge of a parent is how their children behave when they are out in public. If the children are having a free-for-all and mom keeps saying “Kyle stop. Kyle stop. Kyle stop. Kyle stop. Kyle stop. Kyle stop” you very quickly realize that Kyle is a child with no consequences for his actions and he knows it.

Children need boundaries and they need to know their boundaries. Believe it or not, a child is happiest when he knows his boundaries. As long as those boundaries aren’t too restrictive, the child finds comfort and safety in those boundaries. Consistent parenting is the key.

Sometimes, though, you have to enforce the boundary. And that MAY involve a public humiliation with a spanking. As a parent, I am consistent nearly 100% of the time. I warn my children once and then follow with punishment if they misbehave again. There is no 3-strike rule and I am always fair. I know it. They know it.

And now, because I am consistent, I don’t have to spank my children any more. Especially now that they are older.

Humans are animals and sometimes a but of pain is necessary in our growing process. Think about a litter of kittens. The kittens frolic and tumble around and have a grand ole time until they get too close to Momma cat. She’ll take it once, and move out of their way. The second time though, she’ll lash out and scare the living bejeesus out of the kittens. She’ll do that as often as necessary until the kittens stay within their boundaries.

It is no different with human children. Spanking does not permanently harm the child. it does not create a maladjusted child. It is not wrong. It is, simply, a part of life. Spanking enforces boundaries that keep children happy and safe.

Now, it’s when spanking is used for the wrong reasons that we have a problem but banning all spanking is just as ridiculous an idea as making matches illegal because some people use them to start forest fires.

This bill angers me and I sincerely hope you all oppose it as vehemently as I do.

Politics

I don’t care how you pee . . .

January 19, 2007 by Sparks 1 Comment

So I’m at the urinal this morning, doing my business, when a gentlemen enters the restroom and takes the urinal next to me. He’s obviously uncomfortable with the whole “I’m peeing and you’re standing next to me” thing. Didn’t matter that there was that little wall between him and I so I couldn’t see his one-eyes trouser snake.

He walks up, unzips, and walks up so close to the urinal that I’m positive his hands are touching the back of the urinal and then turns his body so far away from me that I swear to you he had to be peeing on the wall and not in the urinal.

The image was comical and I had to chuckle. So I did.

As I laughed, I could hear him cut off in mid-stream and nervously hug the urinal even closer. A nervous pisser. I smiled inwardly.

I found myself making noises just to make the guy uncomfortable, because you kinda have to in a situation like that.

I started by clearning my throat, then segued into a very country, aimed-nowhere, “Yep.”

Then I reached up with one hand and grabbed the wall divider between us. Three of my fingers were ON HIS SIDE of the wall.

I was clearly pushing this man to his limit. I wouldn’t be surprised if he peed all over his hand. He had to go, badly, and I totally had him in fits and starts – the kind that you have to wait out because if you try to put willie back in his cave you end up with wet spots all over your pants.

All too soon, fun time was over. I shook it, shook a leg, zipped up, turned, washed my hands, and left the bathroom.

I’ll never understand why some guys are so gunshy in a urinal. But they sure are fun to torment.

Weirdness

10 Things You NEVER Want to Feel

January 3, 2007 by Sparks 0 Comments

Stoicism is my best friend. I know I’ve been MIA for a while, people, but I figure it’s beter than subjecting the teeming masses with my moodiness. I’m still deep in recovery; it takes time you know. I was always the “brooding poet” – but I still haven’t figured out how to say goodbye to an 18-year love affair.

I’ve made mistakes these past six months – a lot of them – and much of my reclusiveness of late is my way of trying to avoid making more. Forgive me my friends – you are constantly on my mind.

That said, I took stock the day after New Years and decided to make a lst of the 10 worst feelings I’ve had lately – in no particular order. They’re kinda depressing, but it gives some insight into what’s going on in my fucked-up little head.

10 Things You Never Want to Feel

A feeling of utter and desolate loneliness while making love to a beautiful woman.
That ripping at the heartstrings when you find out your ex-wife’s ringtone for you celebrates her “freedom” from you.
Looking around as the New Year rings in and seeing nothing familiar.
Wrapping Christmas presents for your children alone.
Knowing that there are good people out there – friends, lovers, partners – who you intentionally avoid because you can’t stand to see the broken shell of who you are reflected in their piteous glances.
Being so close to having it “fall into place” financially, even after getting raked across the coals, and having a surprise debt that you knew nothing about put you back on square one – broke and living paycheck-to-paycheck.
Driving a vehicle that symbolizes everything foul about your broken relationship. A convertible bug bought with broken promises and declarations of undying love just days before your world fell apart.
Looking in the mirror each morning and having a very difficult time finding anything salvageable.
Not knowing who you are.
Not knowing if you are capable of love anymore.

Divorce

Count The Licks

November 1, 2006 by Sparks 2 Comments

How many licks to the center of a tootsie pop? So I am sitting here at work when my 9-year-old son pops up in GTalk and made my afternoon. I was so tickled by this: