A time in hand-cuffs;
… This was in 83’, I remember when because I left for Boston just shortly after Rose and I watched Thorn Birds together on the television in the basement; she allowed me to help her do a spring cleaning and ready everything for Easter Company. We cleared out the pantry closet upstairs putting new paper on all the shelves; we cleared out the kitchen-cabinets and fold and organized the all the linings in the hutch and best of all we enjoyed watching the mini-series together. I love spending my time with her; funny how I see so much of my relationship within the structure of this movies theme.  
We, Lisa, Denise and myself, we’re coming home after a grueling four week gig up at The famous Pussycat Lounge in Boston’s Combat Zone; I was the last on stage that night and after getting off I threw on an old-lady dusty over my costume  and began to rush about packing-up all my costumes. We run out to the van; and after tossing all of the bags and me into the back we start our long drive home;
My Agent, Lisa, with her broken leg in a cast, has out the road-map, her wig’s in her lap and she had a nylon *****’s on her head  she’s in the passenger seat; Headliner Denise (AKA The Luscious Lady double D’s Dynamite) the driver is dripping of the make-up remover on her face… she’s in nothing more but her bra and *******?! … Least I threw on my dusty. I’m on the floor in the back with a flashlight digging through the bags trying to see if I have all my new costumes I won at last night’s Show; we worked a big Jell-O Wrestling Tournament up in Cambridge... Hey, I win four costumes and I want to make sure they weren’t left behind! So, here I am all over the floor in the darkness with my little beam of light as a good hour and forty minutes go by…  I’m still going through the bags. Suddenly, I realize this intense quite?!  I pop up my head; there’s nothing out there; nothing but darkness, no highway, no streetlights just this long silent single narrow road we’re on. I climb up grabbing a hold of the bearskin spread pull myself onto the platform-bed back here and I look through the portholes on each side of the van to see the view… the view could only be described as Sod-Farms as far as the eyes could see; with this misty darkness looms above. It seems to gently illuminate over a kind of rippling sea of blackness stretching out from both sides of the van. I crawl back down onto the floor. I look forward out the front window as far as my eyes see… we’re on a road, small dots roll beneath the van but ahead nothing… our headlight lights diminish into blackness it seems darkness is gobbling up all things beyond us and we are on our way…
“Lisa?” Saying this hesitantly; …, couldn’t help myself there wasn’t a single set of vehicle lights anywhere and where we are being as dark as pitch?!
“Where are we…?”

Lisa turns in this growling tone,“ Someone did not want to go through Connecticut!”

Denise giggles,” Oh, come-on?!  I’ve been this way before… it’s faster taking Rhode Island! It’s an easier drive! ”

So, we go; yeah, down this road three gals’ in this converted van which looks like the red-light-district on wheels; driving somewhere in the middle of No-man’s Land, Rhode Island… At 2 O’clock in morning.

“Oh, ok.” I went back with my flashlight counting up and pairing off shoes.

All of a sudden out of darkness comes… in complete silence, flashing lights!
Denise begins popping brakes; bags dart about … as she sets the van to the side of the road.

Lisa, starts yelling at Nissie , “ You had to…; Had to take us through Rhode Island?!
Two, ******* Black //////////s and a little white cotton-ball lying over luggage in the back! You know… You know we’re all in jail tonight!!! You take us into the only northern state that thinks they’re south of the Mason Dixie “

While Lisa yells, (Huge bags Denise uses at high-end private parties falls from hooks and falls open contents toppling over me.)
Lisa turns to see how the van looks… Here I am; on my *** on the floor with boas dangling off me and an yard-long two header rubber buddy as ‘slap‘ hits down into my arms. There I am bellybutton high in whips, chains and the rest of Nissie’s extensive selection of ******* gear and every kind of Joy-toy which has ever brandished a battery and…

“Jesus!!!” Lisa yells, “Look at …! We look like a Traveling *******! Janice, don’t just sit there! Put that thing down…. Hide all that **** before that cop…”
Bang, bang, bang; suddenly, a cop’s metal flashlight s rapping and taps up the side of the van; the cop stands side of Denise’s door for what feels
He flickers his light into her face.

Lisa yells, “Open your window, Nessie!!!”

Remember… in nothing but a bra and *******!? As dainty as you please, “What’s wrong officer?”
She is saying this while the window handle’s giving her a hard time and she’s trying to wipe make-up Schmitz from her face.
“Why are you stopping us?”

Lisa leans …”Yeah! We’re just trying to get back to New York?!

The officer shines the light right into Lisa’s face then towards me in the back.
“Can I see your license and registration?”
And, I need the Id of everyone-else in this vehicle? Please.”
I call out, “I know mine is in one of these bags; this will take a minute please.

I am freaking and in a yelling whisper, “…, Oh Crap?”
Thinking, ‘There’s easily more than fifteen bags back here on the floor alone??? Half these… open and half empty all over?!
“Crap, crap, crap!” I start pulling at all the bags rummaging through everything.” Crap?!”

I hear the cop say, “Did you realize that you were speeding?”

Lisa and Nissie , “What ? Speeding? It’s the middle of the night?!  What the hell are you….”

‘Holy Hell; they’re fighting a policeman?! Their arguing with a cop about, what time of day it is… And, I can’t find my id???’ I’m pushing and shoving things into piles… All of a sudden…The side door flies open!
“Please; Step out of the vehicle.”
Like some startled meerkat my head pops up, eyes wide, from the piles surrounding me.
“What???” I crawl out.
Now; standing out by the side of the van with Lisa and Denise: And…,
I look down. My dusty snaps burst open.
Here we are! It’s the middle of the night and we’re on the side of the road;
Three women; One, the driver, standing barefoot in her everyday bra and *******; One, Talent- Agent, resting up on the van with crutches and cast on her leg to the upper thigh; And,… me…  I’m standing there in my freshly ripped dusty, revealing a pearly pink sequins bra-n- G string set, black fishnets and matching pearly-pink 5in. Stilettos.

The police-officer looks at me,” Did you find Id?”

“ Sir, no?!  No, not yet Sir. I was looking when you told me to get out … But?!”  I try to head-back into the van,” Let me find it…”

The cop grabs me by my arm and pulls me away from the door; he places me in hand-cuffs?!

“When you can find someone to bring you your Id we will release you to them.”

“ But sir…Please I have Id!? If you would just?!  Please, please allow me back in there?!  I’ll find it?! Please sir, please!”

Lisa and Denise, “Well, we have ours! Let us go!”
Lisa,” Keep her if you want but let us the hell out of here.”
Both of them; “We want to get back to the city!”

Lisa waves at me saying,” Stop by the office when you get back. I’ll store your stuff until you get yourself out of this…”

“Sir, please?! I have to get back home for my kids? I don’t have anybody able to come here and get me. I know, I have my I…”
I yell out, “I remember where it is!” homeward bound   “I know where it is!!!”
I begin pulling myself and the officer towards the front of van;” Lisa, Lisa you have it! Lisa has it! It is in there under her seat! My bag… My bag…?! It’s underneath her seat! Sir, look, Look it’s under there… Lisa! Remember, I gave you it before so you could get our pay from the owner at the Club?!  You said you’d put it there?!

“ Oh yeah; that’s right.” Lisa reaches under the seat and tugs my little bag free.
” Oops…; I forgot all about you giving this to me.”
“ Here you go her Id; could she now leave with us?”

The cop unclasped the cuffs and says, “I don’t want to have to see any of you here again; Drive carefully mind your speed.”
Back on the road and on our way home Lisa screams over and over; “Never in Rhode Island! Never again…!”
I sat there thinking, the two of them were going to leave me back there?  I’d be back there…. without a penny; no money; not even a way home.
Whelp, not the worst night of my life.



Please, I know this to be a short story  but could I ask for opinions?
This is a small segment of the book I've been working on.

Living is breathing.
Smoking is hating
vaping is ****** -
ugly bungs
plugging innocent lungs.
Charbroil, you wheezing gargoyle.
To spoil your breath
is seeking death.
Breathing God pure in & out
is what it’s all about.

Jeffrey Schmitz 10/10/19

I reason during the Unholyday Season
it’s a cinch to be a grinch
and my heart won’t flinch an inch.

Away I stayed from the fray of Black Friday
and although it has become passé
to my angst there is no allay
because Thanksgiving Day, hereby coined Grey Thursday
morphed into the disarray of a Shoppers’ Buffet
which we could do any ****** day!
The box stores with their sidewalk camping and midnight tramping
are the days of yore.
There is no more need to endure
the mob charging the store door and the poor falling on the floor.
The human glob stomped and whomped for the latest TV
on this feverish Unholyday shopping spree, replete with artificial trees, whee!
Dullard bore, what was the allure?!
Heaping more interest burden on the dreaded credit card
which they should discard, or slap it from their hand, beheaded ******.
Drool, fool, as you wait in miserable line for the store steward
the minimum-waged-Howliday-caged (I’m enraged!)
to turn the door keys
while the CEOs are home enjoying their organic turkeys
free of corporate taxes and relaxes, you whacky lackeys.
The wealthy make the rules and these tools choose to be their unhealthy mules
programming them for a detour to the junk food aisle - the obesity fuel.
Onward home they return with their gift bales
to regale the tale of their trails of thrift sales.
“More, more!” they craved – adrift and depraved
to wasteful spending they are enslaved
yet they raved how they braved to “save and save!”.
With nothing in the bank, many sank to an early grave.

Further astray, sooner to swipe your pay, it has encroached on Halloween
the sacred day when the veil is thinnest between
the living & dead – violating that scene.
In October we hear tis-the-treason ****** bells amidst the pumpkin smells
and are prematurely offended by Krissmus lights
eclipsing the autumnal nights – having upended their own joyous delights;
dismissing us of scarecrows, witches, ghosts and assorted frights
who now make their debut before Labor Day
when the summer sky is hot blue and we haven’t yet harvested the hay.
Pray they go away and come back another day!

More to the dismay of the Hellidays:
Three days after Grey Thursday comes Cyber Monday
when the industrial purchasing puppets have a Work Funday.
Their wanting faces are permitted to glow in their monitors and phones
haunting different places, items submitted to their carts; most dutiful drones.
There are no deals that are steals!
You are enrichening Jeffrey Bezos
as if he were Jesus-is-Logos.
Instead, let’s chase the former – The Latter Day Not-a-Saint with axes
and mace his face until he pays some federal taxes
and recycles his litter of cardboard boxes!

After an arduous commercial journey, finally approaches Silent Night
December Twenty Fourth – that very special night
before the day their former Messiah was arguably not born. To this some scorn.
Don’t get uptight!
They celebrate anyway and that’s more than okay.
Their tree heights are festooned with Pagan lights
and Santa - the King of Things is cartooned in the snowy white.
He swipes her camel-toe under the mistletoe
which we all know doesn’t make her a **’ **’ **’.
So, by then, the madness has ceased.
Tender & mild, a release - I feel utter peace.
As bedtime approaches she slides a hand on my leg, no need to beg
yes, a clinch for the grinch……
and behold, it does grow…  and by much more than an inch!
Pardon me, but it’s not my hard heart.
As I muffle an odorless ****
I realize God is with everyone and all of it. It/He/She is not apart.
When the midnight hour chimes from a nearby tower
I humbly thank God - my Higher Power
generously blessing me - an aging scrooge
joyously shooting, still youthful & raging, ******.

Jeffrey Schmitz 12/2-Cyber Monday/2019

From the outset I was cynical
perceiving he feigned dominical.
Deceiving, he reigned as principal
of the high school- ordained invincible.
Father Tully, tall with a big belly
flocked to the jocks
“hungry for their *****”
we potheads did mock
Evading his attention, we outfoxed.
He openly patted their *****
boys from all the classes.

I at sixteen once again in trouble
was sent to his office on the double
- his sacrosanct bubble
just for me and him - an unlikely couple.
He pretended kindness bluffing pardon
but intended vengeance stuffing a hard-on.
His simulating a comforting smile
was just guile churning his bile.
His arm around me in a faux embrace
peering up to his face seeking his grace
I realized this wasn’t my place.
His hand lewdly moved to my buttocks
his countenance drowned to a treacherous frown
his tongue slivering - a lecherous clown.
With his mouth agape
thinking an easy ****
but oddly lulled
that I was expelled.

Jeffrey Schmitz

Throughout most of my life
I have self-imposed strife
like a cold suicidal knife
my bogeyman - Self-Centered Fear.
Always severe, I ask why does he appear
year after year with a different spear?
Although I could veer to a new frontier
maybe it is he, whom I revere?
With creative lies
he endlessly defies
which I should despise
but one may surmise
all this time, my being he electrifies.
Surprise, surprise:
One of three,
he is me!

Jeffrey Schmitz 12/10/19

From each sovereign land
come gifts foreignly grand.
Superior not is a single brand.
Without anew we dwindle bland.
As America planned, we spanned
strand by strand to coastland.
Then hatred fanned
and people were banned
to which I reprimand
we cannot stand.
To those that demand
entrants not be scanned,
go pound sand.
Blocking the flow’s countermand
is societal evolution in quicksand.
Let’s continue to expand
via the rules we understand,
nothing underhand.
Resuming walking hand in hand
is our blessing of this Wonderland.

Jeffrey Schmitz

Rise and Fall

In flows one breath
out it blows, done, its own death.
There never was, nor will be, one identical.
Its circumstances are a dance of chance most equivocal;
vary the person, a different version
second by minute - their age, a change of stage
and even the air from where, here or there,
I do declare you can’t compare.
They all became but no two are the same.
In flows one breath
out it blows, done, its own death.

Jeffrey Schmitz 11/23/19

Playfully spreading my **** cheeks apart
gracefully heading, my **** shrieks a ****
blasting two ***-**** dwelling fleas
with great ease in a methane breeze
as one looks at the other and decrees
“that was no sneeze!
Yo, those come in threes
behold, he is about to squeeze!”
Once again the vapors did sneak
a squirting of fudge - a smidge did leak
hurtling my wee friends in a brown streak.

I walked up my tower to the shower
with sphincter propulsion power
to rid myself of this repulsion, so sour.
Water and soap I did slather
to build a foaming bubbly lather
into which I gurgled more **** blather
to rinse, helping those suds scatter.

No matter what your class
you enjoy being crass
with your ***
when you pass
that gas.

Jeffrey Schmitz 1/4/20

The “Good Old Days” and its forlorn ways
are just my memory’s sterilized haze.
Why so little recollection of past pain?
Most of it was deleted from my brain
flushed down the suffering-drain.
I cannot sustain
all that ugly stain.
Discarded are the chains of gray rain;
a cleansed past is all that remains.

Going backwards in this illusion
is just amplified delusion.
Tracing my steps backwards is not scary;
for there is nothing unknown to be wary.
My mind’s stroll through that candy-land
is void of any hidden quicksand.

Nostalgia is the denial of today
lying that the present is not okay
fearful that I have lost my way.
The past is dead.
And of the future I do not dread.
Instead, I give thanks to overhead
for this precious moment being led
to the everlasting daily bread
knowing my soul is always being fed.

Jeffrey Schmitz 1/11/20

Souls that travel toward the same light
sometimes collide in the night.
To share a dream only in sight
may one day manifest in day bright.
All that you have thought
is exactly what you brought.
So open your heart to still the thought
that where you stand is what you sought.

Jeffrey Schmitz 1/8/20

It is not my druther
to blow my brother
tongue my sister
or **** my grandmother.
These things I eschew, eew
I wouldn’t do.

Stomping on newborn puppies
swallowing my son’s guppies
skull hatcheting smiling babies
or impaling my testicles on a spike
are things I do not like.

Pushing elderly in wheelchairs
crashing down the stairs
beating quadriplegics with chairs
or plucking my ***** hairs
are not among my cares.

Necrophilia in a porta *****
fails to excite my body.
And I wouldn’t dump scalding soup
on my neighbor’s Cub Scout troop.
But climbing a tree to stoop
a gushing **** on a neo **** group
well, that’s a whoop!

Acting a life not being myself
has retired to the dusty shelf.
Suffering as a lost fake
is on a permanent break.
Prolonging life on meds
******* and ******* in bed
I would truly dread.
Slow motion into a wood chipper
with no emotion would be way hipper!

Jeffrey Schmitz 1/4/20