The Dales

 8^th December 2018

Dear Cassi,

In my last letter I described the two tech heads that I left behind when I ended my friendship with your ex husband Turtle Nose. Neither of these men were much of a loss. At best Tech Tower was a fair weather friend and at worst Tech Mole was a party to Turtle Nose’s cruelty. 

Well, the main stage for this opera, if there where one, would be the home of a family I would call the Dales because, well, they are named after another geological feature. Of the Dales there were six, five now from what I hear, and they were a messed up bunch.

Old Man Dale was a plump jovial fellow who was always good to sit down and have a drink with. I had spent many an hour in his home drinking only to be polite after he lost his job with IBM. I have to say the part he would play in all this was the most painful. By now I had lost what family I had and he was the closest thing I had to that kind of relationship.

His wife I would call Blind Dale. She was legally blind but had eyes enough to see and move around. She could not know me by sight but could tell me by my voice. She was a plump little woman to fit her plump man for the most part that fit. Blind Dale was prone to fits of rage and would often lash out. She was good spirited for the most part when not angry.

They had two twins who I will call Beard and Chin.  Chin is the one who died of cancer. Beard was the rude fellow who was always too loud. Beard Dale was the kind of man who would start screaming if you talked about cannibals. He felt that the world should know cannibals better I guess. Like his mother he was prone to outbursts.

Then there was the younger son, Beefy Dale, Beefy was the fellow who you thought was gay. You may recall that at one time he wanted to be a policeman. Last I heard he wanted to be a doctor. He was a hard man to deal with because he was always showing off and dumb as a stump. Beard would say that Beefy’s natural state of being was to be in his boxers. His state of conversation often lead to him taking off his shirt to show his work in the gym.

Last of the Dales was Fire Dale, who I name because of her attitude and that fact that of all the Dales she is the one to keep her red hair. The others let it go dark, or in the case of Beefy Dale, dyed theirs black. Fire Dale was also known for being in a half state of dress as jeans and a bra was her normal garb. I never said much to her, she kept rude company anyway.

Know your family, little sister,

 

Richard Leland Neal

Tower and Mole

7^th December 2018

Dear Cassi,

My last moment as Turtle Nose’s friend was the last moment I was friends with another man. I mean, cutting your ex husband from my life took with it a good number of folks, but this one was the first to go. I guess in relaying this message and clearing my head I should describe this man. I figure he won’t play much of a part in my life or my letters but he’s one of two folks of interest here.

This fellow I will call Tech Tower and another of Turtle Nose’s friends I will call Tech Mole. You knew Tech Tower well so far as I can tell, because he spent some time living up there with you folks. This was the tall man, rather than the long haired man, and Tech Tower is so named because of his love of computers and his stature which put him as the tallest of the folks of this story.

Tech Tower was educated at U. C. Irvine and had spent time working at Boeing. I always wanted him to go back there, because it was a job that paid well, but he wanted to live with his folks. He was a good friend of mine during much of the time Turtle Nose spent in the army and so I was surprised when he turned on me so easily.

Now Tech Mole is another figure from Turtle Nose’s past who he had met before he became a guard. He had worked at an alarm company where he met the Mole man whose greatest love was video games and his second greatest love was turtle nose.

Turtle Nose had trained Tech Mole to hate me long ago and you had mentioned that folks were always rude to me. Tech Mole was one of those folks. So, here we have two characters in this story, but both minor ones that I will come up only slightly.

To me these men are like ghosts, because I haven’t seen them in ten years now. Still I remember them so very well. They are like demons I need to exercise I guess. Or perhaps I only let my thoughts linger on them long enough to let them go. Well, I need to speak of them so I have named them.

We all have our part to play, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal 

This State Sucks

This is a letter sent to me by the fellow I often refer to as 'Turtle Nose'. You'd never guess that our friendship hung on the idea that I be willing to let him call me Rick. Some have argued that it should not have been so important to me. I would argue that it should not have been so important to him. 

Transgressions

27^th October 2014

Dear Cassi,

I am sick, sick in body, sick in mind, weary of spirit and short of time. I am sick because I have an infection given me by Pickle, and I am sick because Pickle will never let the past go. Turtle Nose, your ex-husband, is never far from his lips.

       

He again commented that of his punishing me over the inconvenience of that man by steeling my food. Then he said that he could never steel enough from me to make up for my transgressions. This would raise the question: how much need I steel from him to make up for his wrong doing?

       

This is a man who laid hand on me, insults our mother twenty four years in the ground, and still he feels he needs to torture me on. His transgressions vanish into the dust were as mine live on in his prodding.

Live in today, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Thievery and Then Justification

13^th October 2014

Dear Cassi,

Pickle must have been in an honest mood today as he let me know that his pilfering of my junk foods was his way of getting back at me for having to deal with Turtle Nose. Does he have a justification for thievery, or thievery and then justification?

I could say that my subjecting him to Turtle Nose was revenge for his beating me when I was a child or any other crime he committed. I could say that my subjecting him to turtle nose the second time was revenge for the family turning its back on me and braking our agreements.

I could say these things, but it would be less than true. I did these things because of a weakness in my soul that I have myself paid dearly for and of which I am ashamed.

Pickle is a fellow who will never take responsibility for his actions. Me, I have a terrible burden to live under.

Own yourself, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Digital Cruelty

24^th July 2012

Dear Cassi,

Today Pickles told me a story about Turtle Nose. It was a point I only have some vague recollection of and it may have been more than ten years ago. It was a story regarding Turtle Nose’s sadistic nature.

       

It would seem that Turtle Nose put his hands on one of those cheap digital toys called a Giga Pet. Giga Pets are the American name for a Japanese toy called a Tamagotchi. These are digital pets that are as annoying as real pets without any of the cuddly bits. Turtle Nose would to carry that thing on his backpack when he went to college. I think it was red but that was a long time ago and I can only but some cloudy images together on the subject.

In any case, these things are a good amount like a real pet in that they need to be fed, have to sleep, can be disciplined, and can learn tricks. Pickles account of Turtle Nose’s time with the toy was that he refused to feed it and kept disciplining the poor thing until it died. There are some video games that are by their nature sadistic. There are more video games that can be played sadistically.

As for the Giga Pets they were pulled and rereleased because they needed twenty-four hour care. These things became a disruption in the school room and some folks said that they bothered them when they tried to sleep. Modern Tamagotchi can be turned off and reset and I think that’s what Turtle Nose had because they came out in the early part of this century. Strange how they made digital things that can suffer and Turtle nose found a way to make that happen, took joy in doing so.

Then I have to say that Turtle Nose was sadistic in most of his video game playing. I recall him wiping out whole towns of innocent people in games. I remember there was one game that he kept killing everyone and the game sent bounty hunters after him. They had weapons that should have just bounced off the in game armor but killed him on the first shot just the same. I guess the game was feeling abused.

Further, he took games into real life. He had been a pick pocket and thief in many games and one day started doing that in real life. We both can attest to his thievery. He would steal things from stores just to do so and say ‘I’m leveling up my thief skill’. Then one day he was apprehended steeling batteries. He got off with a fine but from then on went about stealing from folks who trusted him.

Those who take joy in the pain of others, even virtual others, should be ashamed of themselves. Those more genteelly disposed cannot be so only at times but should always be of gentler substance. Anyone can have good moments in their life, but good people have a nature that shines through in all they do even in the digital world.

Keep a good heart, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

A Long Drive

21^st June 2012

Dear Cassi,

Yesterday on my way into work I ran over a smashed traffic cone. It would be hard to say if that had something to do with my car no longer being able to move in reverse. Given that I just had so much work done to the transmission and it was making noise long before the cone I doubt that bit of orange plastic could have done any more than brought up the inevitable.

I had looked at cars before and I knew what I wanted so I jumped on line and looked it up. I found a blue Honda LX for fifteen thousand dollars and, knowing that if nothing else my car was unreliable, I made way to the dealer to buy the car. I called first to see if it was still on the lot and it was one of two the other being white.

It was a hard ride to the dealer as my old Saturn had a check engine light burning brightly the whole time I was on the freeway. To harden the point traffic was slow.

I failed to shower before leaving the house as I just wanted this over with and the smell of my body was bothering me. Folks have told me that I react strongly to smell, but some of those folks were Turtle Nose and his friends. Well, who cares what they think.

I made it around nine sixteen in the morning and they handed me the keys and said “take her out, see how she feels.” I had never gone on a test drive without a sales man before but the use of the Civic came naturally to me as it was much like my old car.

I paid the man and had the Saturn towed to the mechanic telling him that he could take his time as I had another car.  He was shocked to hear this but I needed something I could trust to get me to work every night.

Deal with your problems as best you can,

Richard Leland Neal

A Scar to Open

18^th April 2012

Dear Cassi,

Well, I have a scar to open and a bit of business to get out of my guts. Emotional scars are just like real ones in that regard. They can leave things in you that will keep you sick for years if you fail to get the whole bit out.

       

You will recall that it was at a very dark moment in my life that I last talked to Turtle Nose. I was soon to lose my job but had worked my last day with the company. My world was collapsing in on itself and hearing from that fellow was the last thing I wanted to happen to me.

       

Well, depression kept me from writing an accurate letter. The account was just too jarring for me to finish. There is a good amount of shame in my chest for those actions and even now recalling them is not easy.

       

You may remember that it was more than a month after the fact when I wrote you of what had happened. The one thing I left out that I had to say was that my last words to Turtle Nose were “Do you really think you can lie to me after all these years?” I know I’ve forgotten something he said in there somewhere but I recall that one question that I had omitted from my letter on the subject.

       

The pain that comes to me is that I knew he was a liar and never called him on it until then. Here was a thing that put so little value on our friendship that he would not get my name right. He expected me to put up with every bit of crap he sent my way and he thought that I believed his bull all this time.

       

I’m disappointed in myself, Cassi, disappointed that I let this business go on for so long and disappointed that I called so poor a quality of folks my friends who would walk away from me so easily.

Cast out the lies, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

I, Cyborg

12^th April 2012

Dear Cassi,

I think you may recall Turtle Nose speaking of a story I worked on back in middle school that stayed with me to mid high school. I have but fragments of its evolution in my mind now and so little was ever written down with all the obstacles in my way. Many were the nights … or days … or evenings maybe, I can no longer give account of such things, that I would sit imprisoned in my mind unable to sleep but too weak to move.

       

My wandering thoughts would spin yarns for me in that hell that gave me what play I could have at eleven. The darkness of my life was lit only by my stories as the spark of light I had to cling to in keeping my sanity. I called my hero Claw as hands had then been useless to me. Those people from where Claw came I called Clordonians. They were a race of Cyborgs things made of machine and flesh.

       

So, from where did the Clordonians come? The face I took from the Terminator and the body was that of a toy soldier that lost a hand. The ship I saw them fight across space with was a toy gun that came with the soldier.

       

In my head and with bits a bobbles I constructed a thing I would dream to become because of my depression. The Clordonian was a being that had suffered terrible wounds and could still live. Wounds like those on my heart from my mother’s death. The beings arms could move by servos and by flesh and so it could feel no pain or fatigue.

       

These things of my imagination were the engineers of a world where my pain would end. They were the saviors from my privet hell, the guardian angels I wished I had. They were the grim smile that kept me alive in this world.

Find your smile, little sister; it only needs to shine for you,

Richard Leland Neal