{"id":8693,"date":"2015-08-03T15:10:50","date_gmt":"2015-08-03T21:10:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ncobrief.com\/?p=8693"},"modified":"2015-08-03T15:11:09","modified_gmt":"2015-08-03T21:11:09","slug":"tales-of-luna-city-mid-day-at-the-age-of-aquarius","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/archives\/tales-of-luna-city-mid-day-at-the-age-of-aquarius\/","title":{"rendered":"Tales of Luna City – Mid-day At the Age of Aquarius"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Final<\/a>On Saturday morning, Berto Gonzales slept in, knowing that he should have the town car back to Elmendorf to Uncle Tony\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s place by mid-day. He came yawning from the tiny back bedroom at his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s place, drawn by the smell of bacon frying, coffee brewing, and the sound of the cable Univision channel on rather loudly. His grandmother, Adeliza Gonzales, had never learned English and was slightly deaf besides \u00e2\u20ac\u201c but in spite of that and being relatively homebound at the age of 89, Adeliza Gonzales didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t miss much, even though the only English-language programs she ever watched were on the Food Network. Berto\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s father had bought a wide-screen television specifically to put in the kitchen so that Abuela Adeliza could watch her cooking shows in the comfort of the room that she loved the best.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Morning, Abuela,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Berto said, and then repeated himself slightly louder. Abuela Adeliza\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s attention was riveted to the television screen, where an excited announcer was yammering on about \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 Berto wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t sure. It looked shaky cameraphone footage of a naked man with something metallic on his head, running down the street in a foreign city \u00e2\u20ac\u201c a brief clip, then to steadier footage of an important-looking storefront building, with a large number of ambulances parked in front, flashing lights everywhere. Abuela Adeliza shook her head in dismay.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Poor, poor fellow!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She exclaimed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Such a shame \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 he had such a fine future before him \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcmorning, Berto; did you sleep well, then?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Always,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Berto dropped a brief kiss on the top of Abuela Adeliza\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s head. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Abuelita \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 may I have some migos and bacon? No one cooks migos like you do,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he added with calculation. Just as expected, Abela Adeliza rose from her rocking chair. The bacon was already cooked; a bowl of fresh-gathered eggs sat on the counter by the stove
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Of course, Berto,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she replied, but Berto\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s attention was suddenly riveted by the television, all hunger forgotten. On the screen appeared a series of pictures \u00e2\u20ac\u201c some of them intended for maximum dangerous glamor \u00e2\u20ac\u201c of a youngish and rather handsome man in his thirties in a series of poses, alone or with others. In most of them, his head was covered by black and red plaid handkerchief tied do-rag fashion; his lower face adorned by carefully cultivated designer stubble; he held a knife, a cooking fork or a mixing bowl and whisk, standing in front of a truly ferocious stainless steel restaurant stove. The handkerchief seemed oddly familiar to Berto \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 and come to think of it, so did the young man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s features.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Abuelita \u00e2\u20ac\u201c who is he? That man \u00e2\u20ac\u201c do you know him?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why, of course I do, Berto \u00e2\u20ac\u201c it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Rich Hall \u00e2\u20ac\u201c they call him the Bad Boy Chef. He was coming up in the world, on television cooking shows so often\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 I thought he looked so much like your Abuelo Jesus when he was young \u00e2\u20ac\u201c so dashing and handsome, so I always watched when he was on.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well, damn,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Berto exclaimed, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153so he was a celebrity, after all! That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the guy I picked up at Stinson last night. I practically don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t recognize him when he isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t barfing or dead to the world.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, Berto!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Abuela Adeliza dropped the fork she had been scrambling eggs with. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you certain? But you must call Chief Vaughn at once, and tell him! Everyone is searching for him, pobrecito! He has disappeared!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, he hasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t, Abuelita \u00e2\u20ac\u201c I dropped him off at Hippie Hollow!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nAbuela Adeliza assumed her sternest expression, commanding, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Berto \u00e2\u20ac\u201c you will obey! You will call the police, at once.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Berto was no longer eight years old, even if Abuela Adeliza still seemed to think so, sometimes. Abuela Adeliza told him. Before she was even finished, Berto had picked up the phone and dialed Joe Vaughn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s office. <\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I swear to God, Jess,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dr. Stephen Wyler examined the sludge at the bottom of his coffee mug, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153if things don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get better around here, I might as well stay home and poison myself with my own coffee.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, you old poop, you have too much fun, carrying on complaining,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Jess Abernathy replied, with a notable lack of sympathy.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, young woman,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dr. Wyler replied, and Jess grinned at him. They were actually quite good friends, despite a distance of sixty years of age between them, Jess being a qualified CPA and Dr. Wyler one of her clients. As he was materially the wealthiest among them, Jess spent a good many hours untangling and keeping his complicated finances more or less in apple-pie order. There wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t much Jess didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know about Dr. Wyler. If no man was a hero to his valet, he most certainly isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t to his CPA. Jess regarded him very much as a kind of honorary uncle, aside from the professional considerations.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We might advertise for a replacement cook,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she suggested. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The Bee-Picayune has rather reasonable rates. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll call and see if they have room in next weeks\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 classifieds.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s how I got whats-his-name,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dr. Wyler scowled. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And he left without notice as soon as he got a better offer from those bastards at Mills Farm \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 damn, is that your phone?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s yours,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Jess replied. She and Dr. Wyler were sitting at one of the outside tables at the Luna Caf\u00c3\u00a9 and Coffee, enjoying the relative coolness of the morning, if not the currently dismal state of the Caf\u00c3\u00a9\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s menu selections.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Damn fool invention \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dr. Wyler unsnapped the catches of the ageing leather medical bag that accompanied him everywhere. He fished out the insistently buzzing cellphone from its depths and regarded it with mystification.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Finger on the circle and slide over,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Jess hinted broadly.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I knew that \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 Hello? Wyler here, what\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s your major malfunction?\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 oh, hullo, Sefton.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Jess listened to the faint squawking emanating from Dr. Wyler\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s phone. At last, he broke the connection. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Sorry, my dear \u00e2\u20ac\u201c duty calls. Az\u00c3\u00bacar has developed a cyst on his neck which simply defies all of Judy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s home remedies.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Az\u00c3\u00bacar was the Grant\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s pet snow-white llama, who because he had been bottle-fed since shortly after birth, had grown up to be almost two hundred pounds of bossiness with regard to humans.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll come with you,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Jess hastily stuffed her notebook, and took out some change for a tip, for the long-suffering high school girls who were tending tables during the summer. At ninety-four, Dr. Wyler was as wiry and weathered as a lifetime of riding, working cattle, and tending large recalcitrant animals could have made him, but still \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 ninety-four, against a two-hundred pound llama. Jess would have never forgiven herself if Dr. Wyler came to harm. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Heads or tails?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Tails.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nJess deftly flipped the largest coin, caught it in her palm and slapped it down on the table.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Heads, I drive, Dr. Wyler.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

The Age of Aquarius Campground and Goat Farm was but a short distance away; it would have been little trouble for Jess to walk, but the day was already becoming warm, and mid-summers in South Texas are merciless to the elderly, no matter how hardened by a lifetime of work in it. Dr. Wyler\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s late model extended-cab pickup truck with the custom design \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the brand of the Lazy-W on the front doors \u00e2\u20ac\u201c bumped down the unpaved ruts between the pasture where the Grants\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 goat herd spent their days, and the smaller meadow scarred with regular tracks which \u00e2\u20ac\u201c if you squinted and the light were somewhat dim \u00e2\u20ac\u201c did somewhat resemble a campground. The only evidence of this for most of the year was the aged Airstream trailer with long-disintegrated tires parked at the top of the slope, under a fringe of trees farthest from the riverbank, as the solstice had been last month. The last of the mid-summer nudists had been gone for weeks and the campground reverted to its usual dilapidated appearance.<\/p>\n

As Dr. Wyler\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s truck came around the last bend, they both saw the single Luna City Police Department cruiser parked by the moldering Airstream, and Joe Vaughn \u00e2\u20ac\u201c every crease of his crisp tan uniform short-sleeved summer uniform as sharp as if it had just came from the cleaners not ten minutes ago \u00e2\u20ac\u201c leaning against the fender, deep in conversation with Sefton and Judy. In marked contrast, the Grants were not crisp in their attire. In point of fact, neither of them were attired, although in deference to local sensibilities, both had donned simple hand-loomed loincloths. It has long been a truism, and one deeply appreciated by Luna-ites that in just about every case, those who proudly and defiantly forswear clothing really ought not to indulge themselves this way, as a matter of aesthetics. Judy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s long hair covered the top half of her body rather efficiently, and Sefton wore battered cowboy boots.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s going on, Chief?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dr. Wyler spoke first. Joe Vaughn tilted his white felt Stetson a little farther back on his head and nodded politely to Judy. Joe was tall, hawk-faced with a direct gaze \u00e2\u20ac\u201c also like a hawk \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and very, very fit. A military tattoo with the motto \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Death from Above\u00e2\u20ac\u009d just barely showed below the bottom of his shirt sleeve, which barely constrained the arm that it clothed. His muscles had muscles.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Welfare check on a guest,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Joe replied. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Berto Gonzales called me up, first thing this morning, with a tale of how he brought out a fare last night from San Antonio \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and he saw him on the TV this morning. Miz Adeliza told him some cock and bull about the fare being some TV celebrity chef that went \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcround the bend. Just as soon as I put the phone down, Miz Grant calls and tells me that their guest from last night is nowhere to be found. His clothes, his bag and wallet are all here \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And two empty bottles of Cristal,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Judy Grant put in, her pleasant round face the picture of worry. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I think he must have drunk it all\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 You don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s done away with himself, do you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Overpriced gnat-pee,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dr. Wyler put in, apropos of nothing in particular. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153A man with real taste wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t swill anything but Krug for a last drink.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Young Berto says his grandma told him this runaway chef is named Rich Hall,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Joe Vaughn answered. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But this joker\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Green Card and visa say that he is Richard Astor-Hall, and that he came in through New York two days ago. The paperwork says that he is a chef, though.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t say,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dr. Wyler\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s expression brightened \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 but just then, the screaming started.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

On Saturday morning, Berto Gonzales slept in, knowing that he should have the town car back to Elmendorf to Uncle Tony\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s place by mid-day. He came yawning from the tiny back bedroom at his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s place, drawn by the smell of bacon frying, coffee brewing, and the sound of the cable Univision channel on rather […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20,31,542,543],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8693","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general-nonsense","category-local","category-luna","category-texas"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8693","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/14"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8693"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8693\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8693"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8693"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8693"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}