Index
Here is the thing. This is what the Captain of the nuclear powered submarine the Trafalgar wanted to know. What about stormy seas?
Kathy, I'll call her that to protect the real person, lived in the United States with her husband, a military man. One day she decided just to put the kids in teh car, and drive out of town. How do I know? Because I was that boy, the youngest of two. And who was my sister? It was my daughter from a previous life, a woman I persuaded my mother (this was in Japan) that loved me so much that it would be OK for us to get married. Weird? Wait it gets worse. This of course is the mascinations of an artist's brain, and one day I will turn it into a proper novel, in the style of Stephen King, so stay with me because the truth is even stranger than the fiction.
It must have been that my daughter was not really my daughter, that my wife had had an affair with another man, so it was his daughter, even though I raised her and she thought of me as her father. Let me just say, she was as strong as Horemheb, the military chief, could sing like the King (Elvis) and had the diplomatic skills of President Clinton. In other words, although she was beaitiful, and strong, and a mere haidresser, she was in love with me, and I with her, and so my mother agreed. My first wife must already have died otherwise I would never have done it. Because it was so wrong, at teh end of my life,which was anytime in Japan from 700 to 1500, I went back to Jerusalem and was crucified, for the second time, not something which is easy to do, but not the last time, and you would say that does not take away the sin, but this is fiction.
So here is Kathy, an english girl, driving along the freeway with no idea where she will go, and she ends up in New Zealand. She finds work, and she meets me, Kevin, a man who works hard for a pharmacuticals company, which has a problem with its security. In other words stock is going missing and he suspects it is an inside job. At first she didn't want to marry me, (Kevin) but I insisted, and finally we relented, and then we moved from leafy Auckland and arrived next door to me because Kevin had secured a job as a logistics manager with a large Kiwifruit company. Not the challenge the Royal Navy would be, but a secure position with a six figure salary. He must have been one of them. The farm where he works was owned by a nice guy who now lives next to where my Uncle Buster and Auntie Jess lived. He looks like Barny Fife, but was generous, having started off as a charity and grown the company (Elios) into the largest Kiwifruit business in New Zealand. He offered me a fantastic plum tree last time I saw him as Buster's place, and broke the chaise longe, not that there is anything wrong with that. Margaret was happy to fix it for him.
This isn't the only place I live in this small town. At the other end of our road, (along the ridge) is Stormy Seas, a small charter fishing business owned by Brian Goldsworthy and his wife Nicky. Now say that again, "His" wife. Brian probably doesn't remember being Jesus in a previous life, but I remember being him. He has no idea that his wife is Kevin (no, not me, I'm rarely Kevin these days, but Nicky has taken on that role. She was a policewoman until she was RAPED anally by the police with a truncheon as part of their standard initiation ceremony, and when she complained, they said, "Hard luck". She stuck it out for a while, but not being too enamoured with the male sex anyway, she moved on to nursing, and still works in Rotorua. Nobody told me this, I figured it out for myself. I'm not going to tell Brian that he is married to Kevin, because he has no idea. He is just a simple heterosexual motor mecanic and garage owner, or was in 1992 when he picked up my RX7 from the psychiatric hospital in Whakatane and brought it back for me. Not that being a motor mechanic is easy. It requires brains, but it is the sort of job a person with real brains would find boring.
Is that it? It is probably enough to keep them going for a while. Maybe I will come back and tell you some of the other things Kevin and I have been doing.
Perhaps I should appologise for making this sound like actual real people, but to be fair, that only sounds odd because this is 2011. If this had been Tudor England, (as it still is in Rotorua) and we were speaking about the Royal family (Henry VIII), you would not be surprised to find people playing hide and seek in the garden with real women as the prize, or even grown men with little girls in their beds, instead od roses. Today it is against teh law, and everybody has the right to be informed and warned, but bedding the Queen against her wishes, or under duress is still treason, under British law, and so is attempting to poison the Admiral, or refusing to salute.
To be fair to Kathy, she is based upon a woman I used to know in Seattle
doing.