An Unwelcome Development

jammed up at work trying to put to bed an overdue project. Don't even get me started on getting my tax paper work in order...
I've started on the next episode, just haven't had much time to work on completing it.

 

Zen, take care of your business and yourself. It's all good.

 

We will all be here waiting patiently.

 

just solong as you havnt forgoten us

 

This was my post in another forum...
So you've already read one of his novels that he has not yet published... think about sending him a few bucks for his efforts...

"No Amazon "wish list" but he does have a PayPal account, so I've been reading this novel since December and has given me lots of entertainment and insight that I "gifted" him $10.00 to his vigunfighter@earthlink.net account on PayPal.

I think anyone who has seen a short story, or novel disappear off of SB before it was even close to the end is well aware of the value of encouraging this story teller to continue, and I will buy this book and put it up next to my Robert Ludlum, Tom Clancy collections!

Rancher"

 

Thanks for your patience. (well, most of you have been patient )
Had a couple of projects at work that had me up against a deadline and had a small touch of writer's block. Sometimes I get to a point in the story and I'm not sure what's next and it takes me a week or so to have it rattling around in my brain for an answer to com out.

Anyhoo, here's a little something for you.

Zelda and I parted ways. She went to collect the workers in the project to come and eat with us and get paid for their day's work. I headed back into the compound to see what progress had been made. With a sense of relief I saw that the fighting position on the roof of the first building was nearly done. A sandbaged square comfortably big enough for two people. Four could cram inside in a pinch. A roof made of recycled pallets and plywood extended past the the sandbags, the overhangs providing shade even when the sun was low in the sky. Two of Lyle's men were in it at the moment. I took off my hat and scratched my head. They waved a welcome, smiling at my use of the pass-gesture.

There was much, much more that needed to be done here. My mind sped through a list of things that absolutely must get done. Yesterday. I had to shift away from feeling like I had to be personally involved and responsible and that I had to do it all. These people would have to take up the work themselves. We could, no, we would provide assistance mostly in the form of advice, some material support. But the labor was on them. I was fairly confident that between Zelda and Kiko, they'd manage just fine.

I found Stan and Sadie in the Warehouse. Sadie held a clipboard while Stan poked through the stacks of boxes calling out what he found. Sadie leafed through the papers, her expression switching from concentration to frustration as she tried to come to an accord between what was physically here versus what the lists said. A rogue strand of hair had the audacity to break free of its restraints, falling forward over a cheek smudged with a streak of dirt. Mindlessly, with an economy of effort, she swept it back out of the way, a brief flash of annoyance at the interruption crossed her face, which only I caught.
I smiled to myself and my luck at finding a woman such as this to spend my life with.

“How's it going?” They hadn't noticed me yet. They were beyond being so easily startled. They barely acknowledged my presence, intent of getting their job done.
“It's a jumbled mess.” Sadie allowed.
“Yeah. It was probably all organized at one point, but two different gangs have been pawing through it, shifting things around.” Stan put an open box back on top of the stack it had come from.
“Any idea when you'll be done?”
Stan looked at Sadie who looked at the piles. “Another hour or so and we'll have a pretty good general idea what's here.”
I nodded my understanding. Stan left his current stack and moved over to the back wall. “You might be interested in this.”
I followed him and looked down at a bunch of boxes and familiar metal containers. A smile took residence on my face. Despite a lifetime's familiarity, firearms still brought me enjoyment.
“We found this early on, but left it, figuring you'd like to go through it.”
Bending, I opened several crates, getting a quick idea of what was here. I tore myself away before I got too involved. Otherwise I'd be at it for hours.
“Very cool!” I smiled at Stan who returned it with a bigger one of his own. He liked guns too, which explained part of his reaction. More, he enjoyed my reaction to his find. Stan always did like to make people happy.
“Anything else interesting?”
Stan lead me over to a pallet loaded to head height with boxes. Standing on tiptoes he rummaged in the top box which was opened and after a moment pulled out a large plastic blister. The kind meant to prevent shoplifters from putting small items down their pants. He handed it to me. It was a FEMA disaster hand out. An AM/FM radio, a couple of flashlights, and the batteries to run them.
“Too bad there's no radio stations on air. But the flashlights will come in handy.” Stan said.
“Yeah,” I handed the blister pack back to him, a foggy idea taking form in my head. “Yes, the flashlights will certainly be useful. Long as the batteries hold out.” I changed track. “How's the food situation?”
Sadie came over and answered. “We're not quite done figuring out what we have, but it's a lot. Mixed between MREs, can goods, and dry. Four pallets of fifty pound bags of rice untouched and another partial.”
I interrupted. “How many bags on a pallet?”
“Forty”
I whistled as I did the math. “That's a pretty good buffer. Similar quantities of the other items?”
Sadie nodded and shrugged, “Pretty much. Let us finish up and we can give you a full report later.”
I took the hint and left them to it. Wondering outside, I stood on the loading dock and looked over the yard. Clots of men were working on various projects, mainly defensive in nature. The breeze shifted several degrees, wafting the smell of cooking. I followed the direction of the smoke and saw a group of women working over some coal pots, tables starting to fill up with various food items. My stomach gurgled loudly, reminding me that I'd been neglecting it.
Shifting my gaze over toward the housing community, a group of people was heading our way, I supposed for their meal and pay. I realized the I had little way of knowing who deserved what. I hadn't kept track of who had helped and who hadn't.
I supposed that Zelda and Kiko would have a handle on that, but I resolved to come up with a better system.
Like I didn't have anything better to do.

The sound of a small engine sputtering to life, then smoothing out caught my attention. After a moment it dogged out and then came back up to speed. A generator!
It sounded like it was coming from the second building and I set off to see what was going on.
I found Liburd standing over a small five thousand watt generator. He looked up at my approach. I grinned to put him at ease. He didn't give me any indication that it worked.
“Got a genny running, I see.”
He didn't bother to respond to my statement of the obvious. I plowed ahead anyway. “Where'd you find it?”
He nodded over his shoulder at the third building. I put it together. “In the construction company's shop?”
He nodded, most of his attention on the generator. He bent over it, looking here and there with a critical eye.
“Didja get a chance to check things out?”
He looked up at me from his crouched position and nodded. Realizing I wasn't going to go away, he stood.
“Whatcha find out?” I started, giving him an opening.
“All tree ah these buildings have cisterns and they all full. They about twenty thousand gallons each. Ah found the generator and figured that this building was most important, what with the clinic in it, so I set it up here. I checked the plumbing. Found the valve to switch from town to cistern water. Pump lost prime, sitting long as it had. I was just about to go look see if they have water now.”

Excited at the prospect of running water I followed him round to the front of the building. We entered to the sound of loud hissing and gurgling coming from the bathroom. Denise was already in there, turning the faucets.
“Leave them open, Miss. Deh air must come out of the line.” Liburd instructed.
“You mean we'll have water in here?” Denise opened the faucet again. There was a chugging and sputtering, and a spurt of water came out. After a couple more spurts the stream became constant. She closed the valve and opened it several times, either in disbelief or wonder at the modernity of running water.
“Will we have hot water too?”
“I will check the heater. It will draw a lot of current, and might be burned out. Don't know. But I think yes, I can get you hot water maybe tomorrow.”
Before he knew what was happening, Denise grabbed his face with both of her hands and planted a big kiss right on his mouth.
She stepped back, pleased with the effect her thank you had, as well as the prospect of being able to wash up.

I thought through the plumbing process to its conclusion. “What about the toilets, now that we have water? I'm thinking we still can't use them because they are hooked up to the town sewer.”
Liburd paused to think before answering. “True 'bout deh sewer. PAWA not pumping, flushing on dis end won't do no good. Maybe so we can figure out something else dough.”
“We're kinda close to sea level for a tank and leach field” I was proud of my knowledge of plumbing.
“Why deh tank haffa be under deh' ground?” He knew he'd shot me down. I mentally slapped my forehead.
“You're right. There are above ground options. Matter of fact, I wanted to talk to Kiko about something similar.”
“We already done talk. We have a good idea of how to do it. You just leave it to us.”
“I don't suppose you'd take to me kissing you as well as you did to Miss Denise, so I'll just shake your hand.” He paused, long enough to make me as uncomfortable as I'd made him before taking my hand.
“Thanks Liburd, for all your help present and future. It's a big load off of me knowing you are on the job.”
“Why you think you must do all the work your own self?” More statement than question, so I didn't bother answering. Denise looked from him to me, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head as if to say “he's got a point”

I was about to leave when Denise grabbed my arm. “What's up?”
“You know we lost that little girl.”
I did, but I'd put it aside as just one more thing I had no control over and didn't need to dwell over. “Sure. What about her?”
“We have to do something with the body.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. One more thing. “Sure.” I repeated, too tired to think and trying to gain a second in which to do so. “I'll ask Zelda what we should do. I'll get back to you.”
“Thank you.”
I nodded, nothing more to say, and turned to leave before I could be hit with anything else.

 

Dead bodies laying around truly are a problem…indeed, a child's body is down right disheartening and now we have Zed d under taker…n all dat sheet n stuff. ;-)

Thanks, KG, Esq.

 

Thank you so much for the update Sir...

 

Standing in the middle of the lot, lost, not in thought, but thoughtlessness. Tired, hungry, overwhelmed, running ragged on the edge, my brain just shut down. A circuit breaker tripped, to protect the fragile wiring of an old worn out system.

I don't know how long I stood there, spaced out, when I was brought back. Zelda's words brought awareness back, if not comprehension. I knew she spoke, but not what she said.
I shook my head to clear it and had to take a step to catch my balance. Zelda held out a steadying hand on my elbow. I let her.
“I'm sorry, what were you saying?”
“You Ok, Zed? You need to sit?”
I took a deep breath, expanding my chest, holding it while I stretched up, into better posture. I shook my head to her question, more to convince me, than her.
“No. I'm good. What's up?”
“A few things. The workers are eating. I told them we would settle up pay after.”
I looked over where the food had been prepared. People sat with plates eating quietly, tired from their exertions. So I'd been in la-la land for several minutes if I'd missed them getting served.
“Ok.”
She waited, and I realized she needed more from me than “OK”. I tried again.
“Ok. After they eat, send them over to the warehouse and we'll hand out some food.” My mind managed to continue firing. “And then we should sit down. You wanted to go over tomorrow's meeting.”
“I know you're tired, but yes. I'll make it as quick as I can.”
“No. That's fine. Needs to be done.”

I turned and took a step toward the warehouse, to get ready for the workers. “Aren't you going to eat?” Zelda's words stopped me.
“No time. I want to be ready to pay out.”
She grabbed my elbow, gently, but firmly, brooking no excuses, and turned me back around, heading to the food.
“At least get something to take with you.”
It was easier to go along, so I did. Truth is, my stomach was voting with Zelda.

I grabbed three paper plates and juggled them while the ladies behind the table ladled food on to them. I figured I'd save Sadie and Stan a trip. Many of the workers looked at me, watching, expressions unfathomable. I met eyes and gave nods. I even got a couple in return. They didn't have to like me, I reminded myself.

Walking back to the warehouse, I detoured to where Juice was supervising his team's work. I asked him to rotate our people through the chow line and once fed, to detail someone to spell Frank and Lyle up on the hill.
Who said I couldn't delegate?

Sadie and Stan sat where they were and tucked into their plates without comment. I wolfed mine down, not really tasting it, just performing my duty to my body. It didn't have to like me, I reminded myself.
Of course, it would only take so much before it let me down or outright rebelled.

Why that ate at a more sane pace I told Sadie and Stan to expect the workers soon and to pay them in a similar manner to what we'd done back home. I left it up to them to determine the actual details. There I went again, letting other people handle things. Maybe that was the key to delegating; being to tired to care.

Having until Zelda came to talk with me, I moved over to the back wall. Maybe playing with some guns would cheer me up. There were a couple of boxes with assorted pistols. Everything from revolvers to pot metal automatics and poorly sawn off shotguns, to better quality pistols that I would actually use. There was another couple of boxes with assorted ammo. Full and partial boxes mixed with a large amount of loose rounds of every description, caliber, and condition. That would take some sorting. Later.
To the right were several wooden crates, that said “military” to me. I smiled to myself in anticipation as I pried open the lid to the first one. It contained a dozen AR s. M16A2s to be exact. Same as we'd been seeing in the 'bangers hands.
The next crate was identical to the first. I decided those were 'ours'. Partial payment for services rendered. A plan to use them had been forming in my head before I'd even found them.
While a couple of crates of military grade assault rifles was nice, if you've seen one M16A2, you've seen them all. Opening the third crate is when I got giddy. Lid off, I reached in with both hands and pulled out the heavy WWII warhorse.
I've never been much of an M1 Garand/M14 fan boy. I find them heavy, thick, and unwieldy. Their reputations blow out of proportion to reality. Still, they did pack a reach out and touch some one punch.

I brought the action up to my face to inspect it, hope against hope. Some M1s were converted to 7.62x51 after NATO adopted that cartridges. While the .308 was a great round, it wasn't what I was hoping for. I searched for the caliber designation. There! Yes! .30 government!
Why get all excited about what caliber this rifle that I didn't even care for was chambered in? Because I was running low on ammo for our Winchester. I'd worked out a plan for cannibalizing .308 round and reloading the precious few .30-06 cases to keep the beautiful Model 70 fed, but I wasn't looking forward to what I would have had to do to recover the unfired primers.
Now, did the presence of the rifle mean there was actually ammo for it? I put the rifle back down, ignoring the rest of the contents and madly searched the rest of the pile. There was a big, untidy stack of ammo cans of varying sizes. Those on top were mainly 5.56, which I put in my mental commandeer list. A half a dozen slightly larger boxes held linked 7.62. Our 240 would be happy to hear that.
Another few boxes harbored olive drab plastic hulls of GI 00 buck in 12 gauge. That might stay here for the Project's Home Guard.
And then, there they were. Five boxes of .30 government. I opened the first box and was rewarded with bandoleers containing eight round en bloc clips for the Garand. The bullets had a black tip. That could come in handy.
Three other boxes were the same. The last one had one difference. The tips were silver. Even better, the head stamp was from the late forties. That had some possibilities.

Several of the ammo cans contained .30 carbine rounds which made me go back to the last case. Yup. There were eight of the svelte beauties. M1s, not 2's, which was alright by me. Two of them had the folding paratrooper stocks, the remain four were normal.
I guess the rumors were true. Every now and then I'd hear about arms caches being found, especially out on Water Island where the Navy maintained several bunkers overlooking the harbor during the Second World War. I think I was looking at proof.
I was actually starting to feel better. A big stupid smile plastered on my face as I fondled one of the M1 carbines. There was a beauty you could dance with. I side stepped and brought the butt into my shoulder, sights settling right in front of my eye. Down to the low ready, I pivoted and brought her back up on target, as pretty a pirouette as any Baryshnikov had done.

“Find anything cool?” Stan had slipped up while I was having my 'moment' with the sweet slip of a rifle. I pushed down my embarrassment. What? Can't a guy have some fun?

I tossed him the carbine. He checked that is was clear and started admiring it. I grabbed one of the paras. So ugly it was cute. It didn't handle as well between the hands, but it would be easier to carry and use in a vehicle.

Holding the M1 at the trail, reluctant to set it down, Stan looked over the rest of the pile. He ended with the ammo cans. “What's in those big ones?”
Underneath all the others were some much larger metal cans. Olive drab and of a similar pattern with their smaller siblings. I set the para down and cleared away cans until I could open one.

I reached in and pulled out a cartridge. Stan's eyes got big and round as he looked at that fat stubby cartridge that dwarfed the palm of my hand.

“Grenades?” I swear there was the hint of drool at the corner of his mouth

 

Kuel, 'thumper' lives…! ;-)

 

Thank you Sir...

 

rats, I've caught up.....

 

Both books?

I've got like seventy some videos on YouTube. Might not be as entertaining, but probably more informative. Peter Charles - YouTube

That ought to keep you busy until the next chapter comes out.

 

;-)

 

“What are you going to do with all these guns?” Stan and I were so rapt by the cache of arms that we hadn't noticed Zelda come up.
“Well, um.” I bought time while I thought of my approach. “Some will go to your people. The ones you designate as security. After they get trained up.”
I stopped there, seeing if it was enough.
It wasn't.
“Some?”
I was hoping this wasn't going to get weird. There were things here I wanted, and we could certainly take whatever we wanted. Who would stop us.
But I didn't want it to be that way.

“Yes, some. We liberated all of this.” My arm sweep encompassed the entire contents of the building. “And we are happy for you to have it. But we would like some compensation for our help. We made certain expenditures getting rid of the bad guys, expenditures we are out of pocket on.”
“I guess we don't have much choice, do we?”
“Come on Zelda. You should have a better read on me than that by now. Yes, we could just take whatever we want. I'd prefer it to be freely given in a spirit of cooperation. You do want our continued help, don't you?”

Zelda shook her head. I could tell the gesture was meant for her, not me. “Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, Zed.”
“I know you're tired.” I put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “And not just from today. This past month has been hard on everyone. The physical part isn't even the worst.”
Stan kicked in. “Not knowing is one of the hardest things.”
“Not knowing what?”
“Everything? Where the next meal is coming from? What to do if someone gets sick or hurt? Who's going to protect us? Everything.'

I gave her shoulder a squeeze and dropped my hand. “We'll get through this. Together.”


Sadie, Stan, Zelda, and I sat down and went over the agenda for the community meeting the next day. Juice popped in for further orders and I told him to have everyone stand down except to keep a twenty five percent watch to be switched every three hours. I left it up to him to work out the details.

Details of the agenda hashed out, including a proposed timeline to keep the meeting on track, the subject of who should attend came up. Well, I forced it up. Zelda assumed that it would just involve the housing community. I wanted to cast a wider net.

“So you want to go out and invite everybody to this meeting? I don't know as I like that idea. Why? Won't this make things harder to manage? More likely to get out of control?”

I wondered how much I should tell her. Either I trusted her or I didn't. Being deceptive is tiring and I just didn't have the excess enery for it. I rolled the dice. “Actually it will make it easier to control, at least in someways.”
“How so? More people is more trouble.”
Sadie jumped in. “Diffusion. Dilution.”
Zelda looked puzzled. I let Sadie continue. “Bringing in people from the surrounding community will water down the community of the housing project, watering down their power.”
I'm a cut to the chase kinda guy, but sometimes Sadie can be brutally blunt. I watched as concern, turned to consternation, quickly chased away by anger, all displayed on Zelda's face. She was just about to go off.
I shot first.
“Please don't worry, Zelda. It's still your show. Just now, its going to be a bigger show, a bit harder to manage, but with more depth to the human resources available to you.”
I was on target, and she visibly relaxed. I did too. Until Stan harshed my cool.
“Won't the people from the project get upset? Unhappy about these outsiders coming in and using their resources?”
The progress I'd made with Zelda fell away as she followed Stan's words to various scenarios in her imagination. I frowned at Stan. He gave me an apologetic look. He was tired. He's usually sharper than that.
I closed my eyes and gave a small shake of my head, telling him visually not to worry about it. It gave me a second to think how to respond, while Zelda was still picturing problems.

“Yes. There's going to be some friction. But we can manage it. Pretty basic stuff. Group Dynamics 101. We just need to get ahead of it and stay ahead of it. Explain it to the meeting. Treat them like humans. Follow it up with simple tricks to encourage acceptance. Piece of cake.”

Stan nodded and shrugged. Zelda just looked at me, eyes moving over every inch of my face, searching for any hint of uncertainty or deception. I let her.
A few long seconds later, she gave up, seemingly satisfied.

With our fifty or more decades of combined experience at dealing with people and running meetings, we gamed tomorrow's. One of us would come up with a potential scenario and then we'd coming up with the tactics to deal with it. This was to be Zelda's show. She needed to be seen to be in charge. Not a bunch of intruding interloping outsiders throwing their weight around.
That might be the underlying truth, but we hoped to be able to shape a different perception. Once we thought we'd exhausted all possible iterations, I gave Zelda her hole card.
“Tomorrow before you take the stage, we'll hook you up with a radio with an ear piece. Wear it during the meeting. We'll monitor from a discrete distance. That way, if we have any advice, or see something you should be aware of, we can alert you without giving away our involvement.”
Zelda nodded slowly while taking a deep breath, readying herself mentally for the task ahead of her. “Thanks. That will be comforting. And I could use some comfort right about now.”

We went over a few more items and called it quits a half hour later. Needing some fresh air after being inside for so long, we all stood on the loading dock. Zelda took her leave. A quick word had one of our men escorting her back home in the dark.
Night was a different type of animal now, after. No streetlights. No interior home lights spilling out across the yard. Dark meant dark. The horns of the moon were showing and without all the light pollution of modern life in the developed world, the stars twinkled brightly.
I had a lost moment while I stared up in wonder and tried to reconcile what I was looking at with any of the references I had in my experiential library. I fell miserably short. I snapped myself out of my reflections before ennui was eclipsed by overwhelming insignificance. Ain't nobody got time for that.

A small, warm, neat hand entwined itself with mine. I looked down from the heavens to my wife. My ground. My anchor against existential undertow. I closed my eyes, safe, and smiled at her.
I opened them again as she gave my hand a tug. “Come on. You need to get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow.”
“I do. You're right. Do we have a place to sleep?”
“One of the crews has made some progress on turning one of the stores into a barracks with brand new mattresses from the furniture store. There's running water.” She tried to entice me with creature comforts
“Ok, sold. Let me make the rounds to check on everyone, then I'll be right there. Go ahead and find a place for us. Bunkie.” I swatted her but and grinned. It didn't have the desired playful effect that I'd hoped.
“You don't have to go check on everybody. They know what to do. They're all adults. You don't have to babysit them!” Sadie's voice rose in volume.
I held out hands, palm first. Placating and quieting. “Sweetie. I know. They're cool. I can trust them to do what needs to be done. That's not what this is about.”
“Leadership crap!” She managed emphasis without volume this time.
I nodded. “Leadership crap.” I smiled. “Or more like motivation crap. If I want these people to follow me, they need to know that I care about them. That I appreciate them. That I will be there for them.” I realized she was worried. About a number of things.

“I know you know this. So what's up? What's going on?”
She took a moment, looking around before ending up on me. “I worry that you're over doing it. That you're wearing yourself out. This can't be good for you.”
“And?” I prompted. I knew there was more.
“I have a bad feeling. Like this is going to blow up in your face.”

After a quarter century with this person, I knew better than to question her gut feelings. So I pushed away my first reaction to make light of it. I had to stop and think for a moment.
“Anything specific?”
She was relieved that I was taking it seriously. She shook her head slowly, thinking. “No. But you're taking on a lot, not just a lot of work, but a lot of power.”
I nodded. “Work will get easier as we go along. Things will build a momentum and we won't have to keep pushing so hard to keep them going.”
“Will they? Or will you just find other things that need your attention?”
She knew me too well. I shrugged. “Probably. Not like I got anything else going on. My normal nine to five no longer requires my services. It's important to be gainfully employed.” I smiled to lighten the mood. Sadie was having none of it.
“People are going to resent you. Resent what you're doing. Not so much what you're doing, but that it's you that's doing it.”

I nodded again. “Yup. Most people just want to go along. Just want to live their lives and do their thing. As long as I can keep them relatively happy, they'll be cool. I understand I can't make everyone happy. There will always be some discontent. Why do you think I'm grooming Zelda to be in charge here?”
I let her work it out. “Takes pressure off of you. She'll be the person these people will hold accountable” Sadie swept her arm to indicate the surrounding neighborhood. “Zelda will take the heat, not you.” She kept the thread going. “So, you'll keep this up? Find other 'Zeldas'?”
“Yup. And not just for that. Not just to give me some distance. Government needs layers to function. Zelda and those like her will be the closest to the people. Their representative. She's closer to them and will be able to address their problems better than I could. She'll come to us for help, and we'll do our best to provide it.”
“Us? We? Our community, or have you started to refer to yourself in the third person?”
“Yes” I laughed. Not really answering her question.
“The people aren't going to be the problem, though, are they?”
“Doubtful. Unless we miscalculate badly.”
“The threat is going to be people jealous of your position. That want your power.”
“That's my take.”
“What are 'We' going to do about it?” I should have know she wouldn't let my non answer slip by.
“Ever hear of the Praetorians?”

 

"Never attack the king unless you are going to kill him!" Someone is about to try to kill Zed…den we b havin d bong n alls dat sheet & stuff! ;-)

 

Looking good...

 

Thanks for all the kind words and support guys!


Kinda late notice, but I'll be on the radio today (2/25) from 3-4EST talking about "The Five Things Every Gunowner Should Know"
You should be able to tune in here. (hit the 'click here and listen icon in the upper right)

http://radio1000am.com/#

 

Well done Peter, I stuck with you for the entire hour. And thanks for the lead on the Flash Bang, now I know what to get the wife for our anniversary present... or maybe not.

Rancher