bookmark, so I won't forget
Cav was devilishly funny
Cav was devilishly funny and Gus was the perfect foil:
http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=23351
Phoenix, it doesn't help, I know, but we should take some consolation in knowing that Paul's all too brief life was far richer than that of most people.
I know, J.L. He was so full of life, and enjoyed every minute of it. That's what I will remember of him!
But it still sucks!
Yes, it sucks, but thank goodness that's our problem, not his.
Sucks, Big Time!
Thanks, BBB. I had never seen this.
(And, who was Red?)
i read these post and become sadden with each thread, though i grow happier in learning more about the man i wish i knew better and longer.
Seed- Me too. I usually do not visit the cooking threads. so I have missed many of Cav's gems.
What a beautiful thread....thank you for reviving it.
yeh now its in my favorites box of cav memories
Cav's ideal woman
Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2005 4:08 pm Post: 1138028 -
Cavfancier
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, I wouldn't attempt to positively define a woman, but this Cake song comes close to my ideal. I was raised in a family of 'supermoms'. I'm happy with my wife, she's pretty close. ---Cavfancier
I want a girl with a mind like a diamond
I want a girl who knows what's best
I want a girl with shoes that cut
And eyes that burn like cigarettes
I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's playing with her jewelry
She's putting up her hair
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack
I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnng jacket......
I want a girl who gets up early
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity
Who used a machette to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass
She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack
I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnng.... lonnng jacket
I want a girl with a smooth liquidation
I want a girl with good dividends
And at the city bank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my pen
She wants a car with a cupholder arm rest
She wants a car that will get her there
She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her MG for a white Chrysler La Baron
I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnggggggggg jacket
One of Cav's short stories
Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2004 4:50 am Post: 721050 -
By Cavfancier from the Fireside Story Telling thread:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okie dokie....this will be the last of Cal and Brent here, before I just work on it myself, with a little help from 'The Elements of Style':
Cal approached the farmhouse where he and Brent spent so many summers when they were young kids. Guests always commented on how clean-cut Cal and ragged Brent complimented each other. Those were different times, and Cal sorely missed them.
Brent took over the place when he left the family home, almost a decade ago. Nobody visited there much after that.
Cal's thoughts turned to the muddy ground as he plodded towards the house. There had been heavy rain the night before, and he was dressed in his best black suit, and his good shoes. He felt a little discomfort at the filth, and contemplated the dry-cleaning costs he would have to pay after this visit.
Cal continued slowly up the path. The first thing he noticed was that Brent had let the place go. He had really let it go. The eaves were clogged, the roof looked like it was about to collapse, and the weeds had taken over the land. It was a pity, really. Cal spotted Brent sitting on the porch with a Coors longneck, and a shotgun in his hand, which was pretty much how he remembered his brother.
"Hi Brent."
Brent got up and extended a hand.
"Hey, little brother, what brings you to my neck of the woods?"
Cal felt uncomfortable. Their relationship had been strained at best for years now.
"If you want a beer, grab one from the cooler. If you want something stronger, you gotta go inside. Plenty of whiskey in the cabinet."
Cal released his grip on Brent's overly strong handshake.
"Thanks Brent, I'm okay. I'm not really here on a social visit."
"Oh?"
"The family sent me over. We didn't see you at dad's funeral today."
Brent took a long swig of beer.
"Hmm
.well, I'm not sure what you all expected."
"We just thought that under the circumstances
"
"Uh huh. You just thought. I have to say, that was always your strong point, Cal. You were lucky to be born with the brains, and not the looks."
"Brent
"
"What? I'm only saying that dad sure loved his liquor."
Brent chuckled.
"I sure enjoyed our late-night chats also, real heart-to-hearts."
"Enough Brent, I know", Cal said. "Still, you never went to see him in the hospital. When he asked for you, said that he wanted to make amends, we pleaded with you to go. You don't know how he changed in those last weeks. How could you know? You were so damned stubborn you couldn't accept he might have actually been sorry. Brent, why didn't you just visit?"
"Well, I was too busy to see him."
"You were too busy?"
Cal was visibly upset.
"Brent, you live alone here in this shack, nobody in the family is really sure what you do to pay the bills, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to know. You spend most of the day drunk, so what exactly were you so busy with that you couldn't give the man a chance?"
"I was busy waiting for him to die. Well, like I said, I don't know what you expected. Come on little brother, all this death talk is depressing. Let's do something to cheer me up a little. Grab a cold six-pack, will ya?"
"Brent, where are we going?"
Cal had a bad feeling about his brother's plan, and felt an instinct that whatever it was, it couldn't possibly turn out well.
"We're gonna shoot us a deer."
Brent whistled for his dog Hope and picked up the shotgun. Hope lumbered over, wagging his shaggy black tail.
"All right folks, let's go."
Brent was a good tracker, and knew the land well. There were some deep woods just beyond the boundaries of the property where he had spent a lot of time hunting. It didn't take long to find a deer.
"Check him out there, Cal. Not a twelve-pointer, but a fine animal indeed."
Brent readied the gun and felled the deer in one clean shot.
"Ha ha! Let's go take a look."
They approached the deer. It was a handsome animal. The afternoon sun made the hide seem like it was glistening. With its dark eyes closed, it gave the impression of angelic innocence interrupted. The antlers weren't perfect, but looked like they could still take a good rut.
Hope sat, thumping his tail against the wet ground, awaiting Brent's command.
"Okay boy, go for it."
Hope leapt up and hungrily sank his yellowed teeth into the carcass.
"Heh heh, look at that Cal, interesting how the beast always goes for the genitals first."
Cal watched Hope gorge on the deer. His muzzle was now a thick patchwork of blood and gore, and something in the dog's eyes looked uncomfortably familiar. It was the fury of the attack. The dog's jaws snapped at the carcass, ripping fur, pulling out tendon and organs, and then Cal heard the distinct sound of crunching bone.
"Brent, I think I need to throw up."
"Find a bush, don't mess up the animal."
Cal ran as best he could, dizzy from his nausea, and started retching.
"Cal, you never had the stomach to look a wounded animal in the face. Never even brought home hurt little birds. Nose buried in your books, nature just seemed dirty to you. God help you if you had to touch an animal in need, you might get germs."
"Shut the **** up Brent."
"Well Cal, today I'm gonna show you something. Check out this buck. This thing isn't wounded, it's dead. Even with Hope enjoying himself down there, do you really think this piece of meat suffers? Look at it's face. It's almost peaceful, isn't it?"
Cal forced a quick look. "Yes, I suppose it is."
Brent leaned on his gun and stared at Hope and the mutilated deer for a few minutes. Cal noticed that a strange pallor had come over Brent's face. It was something that he had never seen before in Brent, but Cal couldn't put his finger on what it was in his state. He was still dizzy from the sickness.
"Okay Hope, enough. Come on Cal, let's go. Help me drag this thing back home. There's still some useable meat on it."
Cal struggled dragging the deer back to the farmhouse. Blood covered his hands, and his shirt. Despite the slow going, and the feeling he was going to throw up again, something Cal saw in Brent's face made him want to prove that he could be strong for his brother, so he endured. The journey back to the farmhouse seemed endless. When they got back, Brent said "Cal, drag this down to the basement freezer for me, will ya?"
Cal swallowed his disgust and painfully dragged the carcass down the long stairs to the cellar. When he got back, Brent was sitting on the porch. He looked pensive. That was what Cal saw on his brother's face back in the woods.
"Cal, is there some beer left?"
"Yeah, want one?"
"Yeah, you should have one, you probably need it. Grab me a little whiskey from inside too, will ya, a large one?"
"Sure."
Cal came back with the whiskey, and opened a beer. It was getting late. He sat down on the porch with Brent and enjoyed a welcome swig from the bottle. As it always was with Brent, the day had been strange for Cal. Brent finished the longneck and started on the whiskey.
"Cal
"
"Yes, Brent?"
There was a long pause.
"Why did he do it?"
"I don't know, Brent."
The two brothers sipped their drinks and watched the sun set in silence. Meanwhile, Hope chased squirrels in the backyard, completely oblivious to the thought that they were often too elusive to be caught.
