Home improvement randy leaves in a black kidnappers van



You see it was a usual Christmas at the Taylor's and randy who was 15
Was busy at the homeless shelter, each day, but one poor man, who was
Getting ****** around by right wing governments decided to talk to randy
And yes randy, being the helpful soul that he is, spoke and joked around
With him, and this man said, how about we meet down the mall, ya see
I really am doing it tough, buddy, and it would mean a lot for me, if you would
Meet me there, and randy, said well, yeah alright see ya there, and went home
And when he told tim and Jill, well they were worried, but they were looking
Out for him and brad said, dude, it's suspicious, I will come with you and
Randy said, no buddy, I think this means nothing and randy went to bed
Already to meet his new found homeless friend and the next day, his homeless
Friend hot-wired this black van and then randy left his house to meet him
And on the way to the mall, the man jumped out of the van and grabbed randy
And randy found himself bound and gagged in the back, and randy struggled
And yelled our, HELP let me out, let me out, but this man drove randy to a very
Dark looking cave, and inside this dave were Indian drawings and randy who is
Unaware of the dangers he is in, was fascinated by these drawings and then
The man drew a picture explaining the things randy is going to suffer from
In here but despite taking a while to catch on, he finally figured out that this
Man, was bad news, and randy now realises his life is in danger and this
Made him very scared, the man looked at randy and said, buddy, you are dead
In 3 days and this made randy so scared, he struggled to get out, and the man
Rang up tim and Jill saying he has their son, blah blah blah, and there is nothing
They can do, to save him, from this trauma, randy was scared, but he was smart
Enough to understand that this could be the end of his life, and he struggled
And struggled to get through but these ropes were on so tight it gave him rope burns
And tim and Jill said, I will withdraw $20-000-000 out and you can give randy back
And then tim though, I knew that this man was up to no good, but the man won't
Budge, he didn't want the money, well he did, but having randy was more important
That any crazy dollar bill, ever could help, randy was still struggling and it made him
Feel like he was suffocating and randy screamed, HELP, I need to get out of here,
I am captured by this homeless kidnapper, well that is whet he was saying, but
The gag was tightly round his mouth, so all that he was letting out was wool lobby
Weeeeeretrtyes, well carp like this, and the kidnapper was really having a field day
With tim and Jill, saying your son is with me, you will never ever get your son back
Cause he tried to be a hotshot cool kid, and randy is not like us, his elder brother brad
Is like us, and young brother mark is a ******, but little teaser randy, is mine, I have
This kid where I want him, right now, he will never escape, no way hoisei, and
Tim and Jill got really worried, as they tried to alert the police but the police had no leads
But they told tim and Jill that they will do their best and tim and Jill gave them a
Photo of randy, and told them that there was this homeless man, who randy was
Befriending and they are pretty sure it is him who has kidnapped randy, and then after
Tim and Jill explained what happened, well, yeah, but if randy wanted it, it ain't kidnapping
But there are more fierce charges that we can put him on if he has your son and if he has harmed your son in an way, like grevious ****** harm, it's still wrong what he is doing
And tim and Jill left and the police did their best, and then a call came in saying a man
Came back to the carpark to find his tools all broken and over the road, and the police went
Down to check it out, and the police said, well we have to alert the Taylor's cause there could be a connection between this van robbery and randy's kidnapping and as soon
As tim heard, he demanded that the police do a city search, which they did, stopping at
Every gas station and ice cream shop, asking if they saw the car and whether they saw
Randy or this man, now nobody can help, cause this kidnapping is so closed off from
The rest of the world and randy was struggling with the kidnapper singing the song,
We're not going to take it, no we are never going to take it, no we ain't going to take it, anymore, and I am not taking any **** from you dude, and as randy heard that, he was
Really scared, and screamed right into the heavens, **** and the kidnapper put the duct tape back on his mouth saying shut up, *******, you are not like us, no more, you
Are like an old biddy's kid, buddy, and the police were still searching and searching
And just as they were about to give up, they saw a van matching the missing cars description near the old fashioned caves, and went down to take peak and this man
Looking suspicious, who was the kidnapper, was trying to flee the scene, but the police
Were too quick and the other policeman searched the cave and noticed randy hanging
By his neck in the cave, but the police got their in the nick of time and they saved randy
And randy was returned to the Taylor's and randy had to have counselling and the kidnapper
Was sentenced to life imprisonment but if he was good after 40 years, he will be could get free, but the homeless man said thank you, I only did it to get a home and all the rich ******
Have to pay for my rent in their taxes, *******, rich conservative *****, and randy
Was having mojo issues from the ordeal, brad and mark helped him get through this


Sent from my iPhone

I don't remember which class it was when I first encountered Randy. Might have been Sixteenth Century British Lit course (mostly Milton). Randy loved Milton's blindness. He once said to me that Milton thought his poetry was improved after his blindness set in. Something about the cadence and word thought process. It sounded plausable. Randy was a bright fellow. Had a lot on the artistic side about him. His music, poetry, passion for older women.
But Randy did a terrible thing. Horrendous by any standard that include psychosis on the ruler.
I'm guessing about the diagnosis. Could have been anything I'd read in those University Psych texts.
Any doctor of any worth would agree Randy was not well, but he was a high functioning not well.
The Honors English Degree was not a walk in the park. So, by the time fourth year arrives, the herd's been well-culled, and classes got smaller, and those attending more intimate. I'd shared classes with these people for three years, by now we had long finished feeling each other out, and time outside class, and campus with one, two or three others for a beer in the pub, or someone's digs, was happening more often. We were serious students, so our party time was limited to one night a weekend.
It was really never planned. A few beers at the Grad House, and so on.

Randy was somewhat of a hanger on. On the fringe of our conversation, and interjecting just off the bubble of reason. And he didn't handle alcohol well. This one time, the girls were talking about wanting to **** an uncircumcised guy. Well, as it happens, being born at home in Ireland, on the farm, with a midwife attending, the brothers and I are in the hood. I mentioned this, and the lasses started with the teasing, but Randy missed the tease. I could see in his eyes the strain as he held back from I don't know what. But he was on hold.  We left the Grad and I went one way across an open field of one foot snow,
to grab a bus. Randy and Nicole left on a divergent path in the same field. Randy didn't hold back.
A few minutes after parting, I heard a scream. I did. I looked back and saw Randy, Nicole pinned down as a kid would be pinned by a bully sitting straddle on the victim's stomach to flick his nose. It took me  a minute to run back through the snow, and by the time I got there, Randy was past her outer coat, and digging deeper. I pulled him off. Sent him on his way, and walked Nicole home. She was ok. Shaken, but it was a different time. She knew they had talked that way purposefully in front of Randy. Randy had, in one of his interjections, admitted his skinning.

Anyway, this isn't the worst of it. Besides walking in on my girlfriend when she was on the toilet, washing his hands and having a conversation with her while she was, yep, speechless. This girlfriend was as pure as the driven snow. We met when we were fifteen, and planned on marriage at the end of my Degree. She was the original model. I was the only driver. Continued with that model for forty years too. And never drove another. So, she tells me what happened. Here we are. I've got all my old buddies from my home town at my apartment. I invited Randy. I admit it. Thought he could use a little time with some reasonable friends. They weren't university students. Just my old high school buddies. Plumbers, electricians, sheet metal workers, construction workers.  I was the only one of the lot that went on to school. They met Randy. Some asked me what's his problem. Now I must tell Randy he has to leave. My girlfriend is embarrassed; worse, she's mortified. She really was. So Randy says he understands and leaves, but insisting he meant nothing by it. I let him know I believed him, but it's time he call it a night at my place. A few days later, when I'm at the library, researching, Randy drops by my place and gives my mates a bottle of wine and a joint to apologize for his inconsiderateness. In retrospect, I'm lucky to be alive today.

No one knew how volatile Randy could be.

We had finished our Honors Essays and our comprehensives, and we were ready for a party. We knew that our times together had come to an end. Each of us would be going to our respective hometowns, and after the summer, we would pursue courses in Grad School, Teacher's College or Law. A few of us had marriage plans on the table, and would be saying goodbye to our University years and loves. Rhonda offered her place for our last hurrah. We numbered eight, including Randy. The beer, scotch, wine and **** were abundant. At one point, sitting around listening to Phoebe Snow's rendition of “The Poetry Man,” and winding down, I suggested we heighten the fun with a bathtub party. I didn't know what that was, in fact I'd never heard of one before, but  the group began *******, and one of us went to turn on the taps. In a flash, all were naked, standing in ankle deep water. Randy was ecstatic and frantic. It was harmless fun, and some nice skin. Everything came to an end, a drunken ****** end, around one a.m. Randy said he had some scotch back at his place, and I, with early onset alcoholism, walked back to his ground floor apartment for more.

Randy had two guitars, headphones and an amplifier. We drank and played live. I still had to get to my place, and left Randy on the guitar, with headphones plugged in, between two and three in the morning.
That was the last I ever saw of Randy, but not the last I heard.

Two weeks passed since I left my University digs. I was at my parents' home, in the massive garage my brothers and I built with our father, re-finishing an antique sideboard as my wedding gift to my girlfriend. You know how it is when you feel someone before seeing them. I looked up, and heading towards me on the drive was my life-long friend and roomie at school, Jim. Jim knew Randy from association. And he had quite a story for me.

“Did you hear about Randy?”
“No.”
“He murdered his landlady.”

I heard the remainder of his story, and was able to deduce he murdered her soon after I left him playing his guitar, wearing his headphones. I'm lead to believe that the landlady, who lived upstairs from Randy, came down to complain about the noise and the hour. Randy followed her upstairs, and with a plain kitchen spoon, took out her eyes, dug too deep, and managed to scoop out parts of her brain. The police followed the trail of blood back to Randy's downstairs apartment. They woke him from a sound sleep, covered in blood and gray matter. I understand Randy was found incapable of being tried, and was subsequently incarcerated in Penetanguishene, a facility for the criminally insane.

Fast forward twenty-five years. I'm at a house party. Present was a police officer from my University town. After some social conversation, I ask him if he was on the force when Randy did his deed.
“On the force? I was the lead investigator. Horrible story.”
He filled in many of the details, some mentioned above, the rest I will leave out.
“Is the case closed?”
“Long since,” he said.

I asked him a few detailed questions about the night, which grabbed his attention. He had already told me about the students at the party Randy was with that evening, and the many interviews he conducted with them.
“You never interviewed me.”
“You weren't there!”
“I was there. I was at Randy's apartment too... that night.”
At first he was incredulous, but I told him about the homemade peanut butter and the emptied bottle of Johnny Walker's Red Label sitting on the kitchen table. I also mentioned the guitars, amps and headphones centered in the living room. He believed he'd interviewed everyone at the party. Why my name was never mentioned by the others, I don't know.

“I know why he did it,” I suggested to the cop. “John Milton. If the landlady was blind she'd have a greater appreciation of Randy's early morning music.”

It's been fifteen years since I had that conversation with the cop. To this day, I still expect a knock on my door, or a rap on a nighttime window, and there, looking in, like Jack Nicholson,

"Here's Randy..."

Randy was a roach
Of the american cockroach variety
He was a deep brown and had a sickly shine
To his wings and antennae
And he studied both of us
From a perch in our suitcase
In my girlfriend's East Harlem apartment
In the early hours of a sunday morning

"**** it! Get it out of the suitcase!"
My girlfriend yelled
Flailing her arms
As Randy reclined on our valuables
His antennae twitching

As in most crisis
I hesitated
And Randy burrowed into the suitcase
Past the underwear, collard shirts, and sunscreen

I dug in a frenzy
Rending my girlfriend's meticulous packing plan
And scattering clothes about
All in the name of meaningless destruction

But I couldn't find Randy
"He's probably in the collar of one of your shirts, or in a pair of my shoes"
My girlfriend speculated
And I started shaking the clothes wildly about the room
Wanting more than anything to extinguish Randy's life
To sterilize our newfound stowaways presence
But I never found him
And Randy boarded the plane with us to ***** Cana

While our plane painted dizzying contrails over the ocean
We speculated about Randy's
Most likely devious activities
"I bet he's eating the granola bars under my bikinis"
"I bet there is more than one in there"
"Maybe he's dead?"
"I bet he's laying eggs"
We both pondered over the fact that Randy could be Rhonda
And that we would open the suitcase to a scattering of near microscopic progeny
And we clutched each other in the cold, recycled air of the cabin

When we got to the room
Past all the tin shacks and open air bars
Where the locals sat in plastic lawn chairs
Staring at the tourist shuttles
That carted pale skin behind tinted windows
To decadently decorated rooms where the towels were folded into swans
We opened the bag to see if Randy
Had surfaced, died, or multiplied

But Randy was no where to be seen , a phantom
We unpacked everything under the utmost scrutiny
Not trusting any of the items we had packed so lovingly and repacked
Shaking cover ups and tee shirts like the wind shakes the leaves in autumn
But he never presented himself
And we saw none of his foul brood
We even unzipped the lining
But Randy had simply vanished
Evaporating into the humid, tropical air

I like to think that Randy is somewhere on the island still
That he has impregnated or has been impregnated
That he spends his days under the intense sun
And cottony wisps of clouds
Sipping Presidente
Sitting under an umbrella made of dried palm fronds
Happy to be away from the honking horns and crowded subways
Just like we were