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Disastrous Weekend

by T.H. Carter

272 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0393; ISBN 1-55369-580-1; US$28.00, C$32.68, EUR23.00, £16.50

Bizarre exploits of a soon-to-be-divorced con artist from Friday till Monday and his girl friends, sex, money and interplay.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book Bizarre comical exploits of a con artist from rolling high on Friday to on the run on Monday. Our sex charged hero loses a wife and home and has the police chasing him. He not only gets away but takes two beautiful women with him, one a police officer who was supposed to arrest him. It is a merry-go-round of sex and fun with the wife close on his trail.

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About the Author First time author combined crazy story that happened to his friends into one character for one weekend.

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Sample Excerpts

Linda and Kravitz watched Mike leave with his new friend. "There goes our mark," laughed Kravitz.

"Man, I've seen guys that'll fuck anything. His con works sober or drunk. Let's give him three minutes and then it's DUI time." Kravitz was such an original thinker that he couldn't believe his wife had bought him a book on sexual positions. He only knew one way.

"Forget it," said Linda. "He really is a charm. The more I see him, the more I like him. That was a very attractive gal who has as many feelings as you or I. And, who knows, maybe he'll try to sell her a scam." Linda was getting interested. Beauty or no beauty, leg or no leg, he really moved fast from sit down to take-off.

"Okay," said Kravitz. "Let's protect him. If we hurry, I can catch him and tell him the reason that she lost her leg is because she is HIV positive. He is married, you know." Kravitz's Polish protectiveness was starting to show. He never thought so original with his wife, wonder why?

"Kravitz, you certainly haven't changed my mind that men are assholes," said Linda. "Did you know that girls don't have assholes? They don't get one until they get stuck with some guy or get married. Let's just follow him. He's so loony, anything could happen." It was pretty obvious Mike's new woman had had a lot to drink, but above it she had a big, big smile on her face. Linda was happy for her.

Outside a hard rain had started about an hour earier. Mike picked up Karla and hustled to his convertible. He lifted her in the front seat, soaking wet. He rushed to the driver's side, started the car, and put the top up. Water was everywhere. They both looked like scuba divers. Pepper's didn't have car attendants. Mike's car was just another rich toy.

Karla laughed and laughed. She had to laugh. She was so close to passing out on the most important night in three years. It was that long ago when she lost her leg and since then had no intercourse in all that time. She was horny, but didn't want to show it or pass out. She actually had two guys in bed and ready, but they couldn't do it. She had been crushed by the experiences and couldn't resist this guy who said it turned him on.

"Sorry about your car." She was slurring her words. They came out like type from an old Underwood typewriter, loud and far between, with something in the middle. She rolled down the window for air. She tried to get her head out as far as possible to the fresh air. Her hair was all matted in several directions. She made no effort to get the hair or rain out of her eyes.

"You got to have a sense of humor. Normally, I'd suggest a big, new motel or a hotel with room service. But in this storm, let's just get to the first place, Okay?" Mike wasn't cheap, but just didn't want a big scene. People would remember Karla a lot easier than a new Rolex.

"Great!" She would have settled for a drive-in theater if any were still in business. She opened her mouth for more air.

Jesus, he wanted this woman, but where to go and not be recognized? She wasn't capable of blending in too well. Got to slow down and think. They should make a law that requires printing on alcohol bottles that alcohol is dangerous to thinking and sexual stimulation in men. Mike would have read it, just like smokers do.

It was a small and old motel, but he pulled in. Two letters were burnt out of the neon sign that said "Sunrise." The parking lot had more potholes than asphalt. He jumped out and ran into the smallest office he'd ever been in. Mike never saw the Mustang cruise in at the end of the lot with its lights off. God, she was trying to hang on. She whispered to herself, "Please, God, don't let me pass out. Please, God, let me be good. Please, God, don't let me forget to thank him. Please, God, I'll make it up to you." Pretty soon Karla was almost screaming the words to stay awake. Her head hung out the window and rain ran down her hair, her face, her neck. She never felt it. She was calling on all her reserves now. The old man in the office took cash and provided no receipt, usual. Mike bounded out and grabbed the passenger door handle. Jesus, it was a long time ago playing golf with Cindy and what's his face, the bank guy. Life was great.

He picked her up, kicked the car door shut, and headed for the third unit down. The passenger window was still down.

She had her arms around him, went to say, " You're so...," and twisted as she went to say it in his ear. That, and all the alcohol, caught him off balance and they both fell right into a big pool of dirty water. The fall was like slow motion, and both of their reflexes were too slow to adjust.

SPLAT! The splash was huge. Picture an elephant jumping off of a diving board into three inches of water. Fortunately, the parking lot had as much mud and sand as asphalt. The lot was close to being a small lake.They both laughed. She threw water at him and he splashed back. They rolled. Mike got a hard-on. Just like he thought in the booth, where he rolled, there was nothing where there was supposed to be something. All men should have a one-legged girlfriend affair. Jesus, do one-legged men have as much fun? The dirty water, the rolling, all helped revive her a little.

Meanwhile across the parking lot, the police team watched from their Mustang. "See, amputees are real, Kravitz. If you weren't married, she'd be just the girl for you. You'd never be soft, Tarzan. You owe Mr. Fortune an apology." Linda started to get turned on again. Some people, a select few, have fun almost anywhere. This guy sure seemed to find those places.

"He is my new hero. That is a better sex scene than the original And God Created Woman. Kravitz was impressed. He couldn't remember if that movie starred Brigitte Bardot or Rita Hayworth. Sounded like he knew great sex scenes though.

Meanwhile, Mike had totally smothered Karla with mud. You couldn't tell in the rain what color her clothes were. He lifted her up and carried her into the motel room. He almost fell once, but he had a hard on and that helped his concentration.

No air conditioning had been on and the room must have been one hundred ten degrees. Mike laid Karla on the bed. She immediately began to get queasy in the very warm room. "Please, God. Please, God," but it was getting fainter and fainter and further in between. Gone. She didn't even get to admire the small room, which was decorated prior to Gone With the Wind.

"Shit." Mike swore slowly as he tried to brush the mud and water off himself. She had totally passed out. He must be losing his masculine charms. He started the air conditioner, which sounded like the diesel in the original John Deere tractor.

Mike lifted her up and carried her into the bathroom. It was not a big room , just a shower tub and toilet. The sink was somewhere else. He sat her down next to the toilet, really almost dropped her. She was slippery. He sloshed in the toilet bowl and threw water on her very muddy face. Five times he flushed the toilet and renewed the splashing of her face. God she would not wake up. Este'e Lauder never sold facial creams to marvel Karla's now smooth complexion.

"Sssssss. What are you pouring on me?" Karla came half awake. Was it lust?

"My dear, this is pure Rocky Mountain mineral water direct from the city of Detroit," Mike said. It sounded close to the truth. He cupped another handful and wiped it down her face before she could respond. "Rocky Mountain cool," he said. He remembered that from somewhere. He splashed some on his face for affect. Good for both of us, he thought.

"I've never seen a toilet from eye level before." She was trying to be nice. She was still too far gone to care about being washed off with toilet water. She had watched him use it so very, very slowly on both of them that she thought it was acceptable.

Her head started to nod down. Mike continued the barrage of water, but she passed out. The toilet would not flush and recover quick enough... like most. The small floor area of the bathroom, really the area was too small ever to be considered a room, was a shallow lake of parking lot mud and water from the fountain of youth. The overflow went into the bedroom area.

He carried her to the bed and took her clothes off. God she really was good looking. Not the body of Cindy,but much better than the best grocery store clerk. And, what a great leg. Jesus, I can't make love to a mannequin, he thought. He lifted up her naked body and carried her back to the bathroom. In the tub she went limp as a rag. Splash. The overhead shower actually worked. The water was naturally ice-cold. Her first words were, "Please, God," and soon turned to, "Our brains out." Mike was peeling out of his dirty and thoroughly wet clothes. Nobody had more determination for what he wanted. After all, some men cannot get hard with too much alcohol, and some, a very few, stay hard much, much longer. Mike was one of the select few on this particular night.

Kravitz looked at his watch, "Let's bet coffee on how long they will be." Kravitz made an unpretentious pass at Linda. He had a hunch she'd say yes to coffee.

"You mean how good he is," replied Linda. She found herself automatically liking this absurd con artist who took advantage of people.

"He is cold-blooded and quick. Fifteen minutes. I want to say ten, but I'll go fifteen. It'll take him five minutes to get all her clothes off. Sorry, I meant no disrespect with that comment." He told the truth. "Forty-five minutes," she replied seriously and intently as she stared at the closed door of the motel room. If it wasn't raining so hard, she wanted to go listen at the door. God, she thought, Kravitz can't know this.

"You're on." Kravitz fantasized his winning coffee as being as good as winning the Super Bowl. After all, how could a drunk out-last a fit, middle-aged guy who bowls every week to stay in shape? Hell, he had a hard time going ten, much less fifteen. He remembered when he was eighteen doing a neighborhood sweetheart and bragging about sixty minutes when she corrected him to thirty.

One hour and thirty-two minutes later, Karla was like a maiden horse and the betting favorite. She was so strong she could have won the Kentucky Derby. The room had gotten very cold, which sustained her. She had dieted regularly and exercised daily, which kept her body in shape. Her breasts were small to medium sized, but with hard nipples. Mike was awed and through the alcohol managed a double performance. He was so intrigued by the missing leg his anxiety was temporarily lost. His second performance was pulled off after some great foreplay. Her alcoholic haze temporarily enhanced his performance. No drug could have improved her performance or made her desire and resolve higher. Three years of anxiety came to a climax for her.

All good things unfortunately have to end. Don't they?

Mike carried her out to the car, stumbling all the way. They both almost tumbled on the hood. The rain was still intense. He sat her in the passenger seat and hung onto the car as he maneuvered to the driver's door. He drove off very slowly. Miraculously, they both had put on all their wet, dirty clothes, not forgetting anything. The passenger window was still open and Karla laid the back of her head on it so she could watch Mike as long as possible before passing out. This time it would be as much from exhaustion as alcohol.

She was fantastic. He remembered when he was a boy that he had forty goals in life. Ride a hot air balloon. Make love in the john during an airline flight. Piss off the top of a large building. Why didn't he think of a one-legged ride? He didn't know what she was thinking, but she sure won. By the time he got her to her apartment, she had passed out again. He found her keys and carried her up to her room. He laid her on the bed. It was only a one-bedroom unit, but very tasteful. He covered her with two warm looking shawls. He copied her telephone number from the phone unit and wrote her a little note. "Thanks, let's both remember. I took the liberty of copying your number. Mike."

What the hell, what was he going to say? He couldn't say, "You can run, but can't hide." That would be a stupid put-down, even for a drunk. He couldn't say, "Every time I flush the toilet, I'll think of you." Well, that might be the truth because that toilet sure got flushed a lot. He could have been romantic and said, "I'll think of you every time it rains." She was a much better woman than that. Hell, if he wasn't so screwed up he would have liked to have known her better. Well, drunk or not, he got her name right. Now, if he could only remember it. Well, he did write it down. Just don't lose the note. He wasn't sure he had spelled "liberty" correctly. He stopped thinking and moved his legs. He left clumsily, but he did shut her door.

The car wove down the street on the way home. The car was absolutely filthy, especially the passenger seat and dashboard. The front floor had so much mud on both sides that it looked like twenty pigs had defecated in it. The water and humidity would never be cleaned from this car. Oh, well, it was his wife's car, anyway.

Kravitz and Linda trailed Mike faithfully. "Jesus, he's doing eighty," said Kravitz, as he squinted through the racing wipers. "It'll just be our luck we get in an accident chasing him."

"Yeah, and he's weaving like he's being interviewed by David Lettermen," retorted Linda. That didn't come out right, she thought, as Letterman usually did the weaving. She had her left fingers crossed for him. She never took her eyes off the red taillights.

"You're a feminist. Shall we pull him over?" Kravitz didn't like the idea of letting violators go. He'd give his neighbor a ticket if he had to. After all, he sent his wife's sex book back to the publisher because he thought it cost too much.

"No. One more mile and he's in our district." Linda actually had both fingers crossed in both hands now. It is not always fun to be a police officer. She found herself cheering for Mike Fortune.

Mike was fortunate. He stopped at the next two red lights, breaking his speed. One mile from his sub he was like a bowling ball on a resurfaced lane. At the final turn, he lost it. The car jumped the curb and the grill and fender got wrapped around a utility pole. The air bag saved him from serious injury. His knee was bruised. He opened the door, swore something and limped three houses to home base. It had been a long day. No one was out because of the time and the rain, except Kravitz and Linda, who witnessed the bang.

"Stop!" Linda was wildly excited. She almost yelled at Kravitz, because she had a great idea. Who said a mare couldn't win the Kentucky Derby? The rain was actually slowing down considerably.

"Dispatch, Car 27. Have an accident and leaving the scene and Hazelwood Court and Cherry Lane. Need backup. No lights, no siren," Linda called.

"Car 27. Car 16 in two minutes."

"Roger." Linda turned and looked at Kravitz. Her right index finger wanted to curl into the lucky position automatically.What was that all about?" Kravitz was shaking his head. "Aren't we kind of late?" "Look, we're out of uniform. We need the real "Bilko"' to go up to the house and drag the wife into this. The car is registered in her name. Try and drag her down here, maybe fireworks will start between them." She knew if she was the wife, she would be furious. Linda knew what she was doing. She was like a goalie in overtime in the Stanley Cup playoffs. Her eyes were on fire and she could visualize the play. As Mike opened the front door, his wife's little four pounds of kinky fur started barking like mad. All small dogs are bought and kept for something. Except a lot of times, that something is really not much. "Shut up, you little pup. No swimming pool is too big for you." Christ, when was he going to do something about this rat dog? His wife, Karen, had him trained to bark to announce his late-night arrivals. Ammonia in a water pistol would be too good for this rug rat.

"Mike, goddamn it. Why don't you ever call? I can't stand this any longer. You run around all the time with no consideration for me. I'm always embarrassed." She tightened her robe as she came down the stairs. "You never have the consideration to call." Don't all wives get the late-night last say?

"I love ya, man." Sounded good, but not from a drunk in soaking wet and mud filled clothes. What the hell, if he called she would just rag on him and try to make him feel like shit. You can't win.

"Don't give me that beer commercial bullshit. Look at yourself. This better be good." Karen, obviously, had been through many scenes before. Let him lie. Let's see how good the lie would be.

Mike climbed the stairs past her. He didn't feel good. The dog still barked. As he got closer to the top, he wondered if mountain climbers felt frostbite or if it just kind of happened. Funny what you think of when you've had too much to drink, he thought. Why did he think that? Maybe I should think whether I have all my money and whether Karla's passing out was a big con and she rolled me. I'll check my money clip tomorrow, he thought slowly. Actually his thoughts were in milliseconds.

He was in a hurry now. Where was the guest bedroom and toilet? He never would make it to the toilet. That was too small a target in his condition. At least he was considerate not to spoil where he slept and peed regularly.

"Mike, you son of a bitch." Karen followed him, even more pissed. Ever notice a woman's eyes, how brilliant they are when she is really pissed?

POW. He exploded. Mr. Mike Fortune. Mr. Con Man Supreme. Mr. Impeccable dresser. He caught the entire guest Jacuzzi and more, including part of two walls. Jesus, you should always eat when you drink. This would have never happened, he thought again. As he reached for the water handle, mud rubbed off his clothes over the top of the Jacuzzi. They did not make shoe polish to match the new color blend in his once expensive loafers. Certain oceanic billfish can throw up their stomach and then re-swallow it. Everything is fine. Mike needed that ability, and more, about now.

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Catalogue Information

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