G21 FICTION

GRAND PLANS

A Novel

by CHUCK NYREN

G21 Contributor

Author Retains All Serial Rights

Grand Plans is a freewheeling, character-driven, high energy human comedy, ultimately dealing with racism, alcoholism, drug abuse, sexual abuse and obsession. These severe elements creep up on you. --- Chuck Nyren

CHAPTER EIGHT:

CONCLUSION:

THE HONING STONE(Cont.)

G21 TALK! VOX POPULI, The Reader Response Page BLKNBLU's TREND BENDS on "Desperate Measures". RAHEEM's HOT LINKS(Not from Louisiana) is updated with new LINK PARTNERS and a new SILVER SURF AWARD. In G21 WORDS: The next installment of CHUCK NYREN's GRAND PLANS. TRIO: RADIO RAHEEM takes our Publisher at his word(about Free Speech, that is) in "TRIO THIS!" POWERSBOOKS BOB POWERS on writer and teacher, Joan Connor. G21 EUROPE: FLISS USSHER's Electric Impulses. G21 SOUTH AMERICA: A reprint of ANN BRAUN WHEATLEY's "Road Through the Sugar Cane"(G21 - August, 1996) PART 2 of ANN's Reminiscence. PART 3 of ANN's Reminiscence. With the Companion Pieces from the subject of Ann's article, TOM HARGROVE: "Valley of the Shadow": His Exclusive-to-G21 story of his captivity among the FARC narco-guerillas in Colombia. Part 2 of Valley Part 3 of Valley [For the non-framed version of Part 1 follow the link. -- Ed.] [For the non-framed version of Part 2 follow the link. -- Ed.] [For the non-framed version of Part 3 follow the link. -- Ed.] JENNIFER BLUE's PLANETARY MADNESS looks at YOUR influences! You need to use The Message Board HOUSE OF CARDS!"

"So, Allan. Why dontcha' pull up your pants," Margie said. "They're fallin' down in back."

Allan huffed, looked at her suspiciously (he didn't really know who she was), and made an effort with a few manly hoists and tugs.

Margie helped.

"Here," she said, fiddling from behind, "They're caught in your belt or somethin'. There ya go ..."

Allan nodded, then began marching around in the garden.

"Why dontcha' come out on the lawn, Allan. There're some nice flowers in there you don't wanna step on."

Allan looked down. Why, yes!

He trooped out of the patch, head held high, looking more and more like the 'gimp because of a war injury' Prussian officer he imagined he was. Proudly, he paraded back and forth. He could almost hear the medals jingling.

"You're a nut," Margie said with a big grin, lifting the empty bottle upside down and into her mouth.

"What!" He challenged, aghast as such ... but when he saw the bottle he stopped being offended and held his hand out.

"Nothin' left, Allan. You finished it before."

Allan took it anyway. "There's ... always a corner!"

"I got the corner," she said, laughing. "Besides, you've had enough. I'm cuttin' ya off."

".... Whaaaaat!" This was not to be believed. The effrontery! He shook the bottle in her face.

"Yeeeeah! That's right," Margie said with a prickly growl, eyes screwed and snickering, jaw jutted, and her nose scrunched up and in the air -- playing rough, but still playing. "I'm cuttin' ya off. So's how do ya like them apples!"

Allan didn't like them. He dropped the bottle and put up his fists.

"No. No punching," she said. "But wrestling! I like wrestling. My brother and I used to wrestle all the time. I'm good, too."

Allan relaxed his fists, bent over, and swayed -- although it was difficult to tell if he was weaving like a wrestler, or merely weaving.

"Wait. I got a better idea!" She said. "Let's wrestle Carl! Let's ambush'im. We'll hide by the door an' when he comes out we'll jump'im. Whaddaya say?"

"Yes," Allan said, with no argument -- or no thought about it. He had reached that whimsical state of inebriation where he was merely 'doing'.

Margie took charge. "Okay, C'mon."

"Let's get'im," Allan said.

When they reached the opened front door, Allan pushed by her.

"Hey, come back!" She said, grabbing him. "We have to hide here somewheres, and when he comes out we'll tackle'im!"

Allan nodded. "We'll get'im."

"So, here ... you stand on this side and I'll be over here and I'll keep a lookout."

He did as he was told -- actually, he was put -- Margie had to place him behind the bushes.

"There ya go. Now 'shhh' 'til I give ya the signal. This isn't gonna hurt your leg, is it?"

Not a real soldier like he! "No, no! I'm ... fit," he confirmed, doing a little shadowboxing.

"Okay," she said, a bit worried. "But no punching."

"No."

Margie took her position. "I'll tell ya when ta go."

Allan nodded, spun out on the porch, and began throwing uppercuts.

"No! Allan! Get back there!" She said, shooing him -- but then there were footsteps. "Oh, no, here he comes! Let's go!"

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