By a “J.K.Laudenblase”.
Yes, obviously a pen name. But the hints abound.Still it’s hard to call it ‘long-awaited’ when one knoweth not with any certainty on whom he awaited.
There are parallels (below) and also non-pareils:
“Judy upended one of the thin dome-shaped chocolate wafers I’d brought as my part of the Soccer-Mom banquet. With a fingernail which cost more than the car I drive; her with that awful blue pixe cut. Is that to be the next big thing here in Pischerville? Her barely-concealed disdain dripped into the plastic dish: “Haven’t seen one of them for years…” As if discussing an aberrant case of polio.
With only the smallest of nods, I moved down the line. Feeling all the more secure knowing I’d quietly penned a little ‘U’ on the bottom of the container. Seeing it tossed out by this creature later on would cost me, I know this, a couple extra glasses of wine before fitful sleep would rescue me from the horror. Dylan’s ‘Twenty years of schooling and they put you on the day shift.” rang in my ears…..”
This is the story of a fascinating couple. US Army Major General Ursus X. Day (‘Major Day’ to you, private!) and his exquisitely introspective wife Golda Meiner-Day, an accomplished appellate lawyer in her own right and an aspiring ‘In her own Write’ wordsmith. That, during the hours (minutes?) not spent taming their three young children. I suppose it was a natural for Ursus to start calling them ‘the three bears we’ve borne’
J.K, the author tells the story in alternate chapters in first, second, and third person, which though troublesome at first soon becomes downright comfy.
It’s a page-turner, let me tell you; by the end of the second chapter we already know, or are enjoying guessing, what will happen next.
A tired Ursus, stiff uniform already half unbuttoned in the driveway, arrives home to his even-tired-er better half.
“Where’s the bears?” he asks, noting the quiet (except for some banging on bedroom doors)
“Goldie locks the three bears in their rooms” she says, in a voice as affect-less as Nicholson after the lobotomy. And adds, like the little boy in The Shining, “Goldie doesn’t live here anymore!”
Major Day has seen this before, or words to that effect at least.
“So they’re in bed?” he asks calmly.
“Yeah, one was too hot, one too cold, and the third, just right, but just for spite. I ’embedded’ them'”
Something in the word sent a small shock through the General’s…ok… genitals. As if he knew what might be next.
“Like your embedded ‘Lisa’…..” Goldie pulled the trigger and watched the target crumple.
But Ursus just stood there, like a man, shot through the heart, dead already but still at attention.
‘Lisa’? No one knew her real name, without having read their private emails…..after locking the kids in their rooms…? It all made sense.
Assigned to his office to work on an officer’s recruitment brochure, he and ‘L’ Paulson had, let’s say ‘hit it off. On and off duty. The local innkeepers knew all about it, the chemistry was hard to miss. They’d even taken to calling him ‘Ursus, the Big Tipper’, of course after proper intoxication and permission. And dear Goldie, the ‘Little Tipper’, well, she’ll be the last to know, count on us, they’d wink.
Ok, most of the next chapters take place in Colorado, thence back to Texas, France, and Afghanistan. You never see the end coming, I assure you, but don’t cheat, OK?
I finished this gem in one sitting, twelve beers, and two missed days of work. Your needs may vary, but be warned, it’s a long-awaited pleasure. We just don’t know, for now, for whom we awaited.
WU: What the Hell are you doing here, if I may ask?
Me: Wuuzie! Long time no see. Simple answer of course.
WU: Do go on
Me: I’m just posting a fun parody of a book review, incorporating some aspects of folks I know and cherish.
WU: So it’s all just made up? Your idea of fun?
Me: From an authority no less than The Beatles. ‘And if you want some fun, read Obla-di-la-dah.”
Wu: The infidelity scene? there is no basis in fact for it, if this story is in part autobiographical.
Me: Duh, I know that. But y’know, sex sells. Gotta make a living somehow.
Plus, who are you talking about anyway, Wu?
WU: Mum’s the word.