Trudge164's Open Salon Blog

Big Jim, Bodybuilder: Fame, Steroids, Cancer and Death

Sat, 5 May 2012 11:05:08 -0400

Fiction Weekend for 04/04/2012 – 04/06/2012.

This week I chose not to follow the prompt, which is "write a story that begins with the line: "Listen carefully," he said, "this won't be easy for you to hear"". Instead, I submitted a story that I had entered in a contest.

Back in April, I was listening to WNDA, a local radio station in Miami, Florida, when they aired a weekly show called “Studio 360”. This show highlights artists, writers, and musicians.

One of show’s segments featured “Significant Objects” a book by Bob Walker and Joshua Glenn in which they scoured thrift shops around New York and with a very small budget they purchased a bunch of objects.

Then they set about writing back stories for each object. In order to make the segment more interactive with the listeners, the staff at Studio 360 along with Walker and Glenn hosted a contest. They chose three random objects and posted them on Studio 360’s website.

If listeners wanted to enter the contest, they had to choose one of the objects, write a back story for it and post it on Studio 360’s website.

I chose the Marlboro Thermos, entered the contest and lost. However, I wanted to share the story with you. I hope you like it.

"Big Jim, Bodybuilder: Fame, Steroids, Cancer and Death" by Trudge164

It was moving day. We were finally leaving Big Jim’s house. That is how everyone referred to him. Big Jim was a larger than life character. Jim had worked for a parcel delivery company. He worked his way up from truck loader to warehouse manager. It was his day job. However, his real passion in life was bodybuilding. He got into it while playing high school football. A knee injury in his senior year blocked his chances at scoring a college scholarship and going pro; so Big Jim pursued bodybuilding instead.

Bodybuilding was not very fashionable back then. Guys who were into it were considered to be part of a weird cult. It was viewed as unmanly to be so much into your body. Regardless of public and family opinion, Big Jim pursued the sport with a passion; and he became very successful at it. He was even featured in some magazines devoted to the sport. Jim even picked up some extra cash as a spokesman for some of the muscle-building supplements.

When the sport started to gain tsunami-sized momentum, Big Jim was already in the water and riding the earlier waves. He became a hit locally, nationally and globally. But he was starting to age. In the sport of bodybuilding, once you start entering your thirties your body starts to turn on you. Big Jim got into steroids. He also got liver cancer. He was dead within three years. He left behind a big house, a trophy wife and Junior (their five year old son). Four years later, I married Samantha, Jim’s beautiful wife.

So here it was moving day, I entered Jimmy’s room and asked him if he was ready. He nodded his head and grabbed some things and that old Coleman thermos with the Marlboro logo on it. The thermos was about 18 inches tall and four inches round. The bottom of the thermos was red; its lid and handle was white. On the side of the lid was the Marlboro cigarette logo. Jimmy kept that thermos on top of his bookcase. He was very possessive of it.

One year into our marriage, I asked Samantha about the thermos. She said that Jim had picked it up in a local bodybuilding contest. Smoking indoors was still allowed back then, and the Marlboro brand had co-sponsored the event. This particular event helped Jim get national attention and launch his bodybuilding career. The thermos had become an inside joke over the years and there were photo albums filled with Big Jim striking classic bodybuilding poses and the thermos next to him. One had him doing some bicep poses with the thermos balanced on top of his right bicep muscles. The whole thing seemed morbidly ironic.

Then, I asked her why was Jimmy so attached to the thermos. She flashed her world famous erotically-charged smile and led me into the bedroom. Samantha had once been a centerfold model for Playboy. I soon forgot about the thermos. It became just another object in my stepson’s room along with the action figures and sports memorabilia.

As soon the moving van left, we jumped into our car and headed out to our new home in a new state. Jimmy, now 15 years old, sat in the backseat with the thermos next to him. I could see it through the rearview mirror.

Samantha noticed I was looking at the thermos. She smiled and said, “Ashes.”

I gave her a side glance and said, “What?”

She took in a deep breath and as she let it out she said, “Big Jim’s ashes are inside the thermos.”

It explained a lot. It also explains why the thermos is featured on the front cover of “Big Jim, Bodybuilder: Fame, Steroids, Cancer and Death”.

If you follow the above links, the original title for my story was "Big Jim and the Thermos".

Open Salon Confessional: Yep That’s Me! Really

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 16:04:30 -0400

I have been carrying this weight around for so long it feels like it has become a part of me.

But now since everyone on Open Salon is confessing to transgressions of the alter(native) kind, I must unweigh myself of this beastly burden of lies and deceit. I mean Tink is sjhgah dsjkl, who knew?

For you see my very few followers, many more non-followers and infinite number of car crash rubberneckers, I'm really nobody.

I’m just an Open Salon bottom feeder sans alter, sans a good tailor who can do alterations, sans serif too (If I could figure out how to change the font).

That’s it.

Show’s over, folks.

You can go home now.

My Missed Turning Points for Ande Bliss

Wed, 18 Apr 2012 17:04:21 -0400

Today, Ms. Ande Bliss, a new blogger on Open Saloon (have mercy on her), posted I Could Have in which she discusses roads not taken. She ends her post with the question: "Do you ever think about your own turning point?"

Which got me to thinking, and that is a dangerous thing. So instead of answering her question in her comments section, I decided to make a post out of it. Don't ask, because I can't tell you.

Do you ever think about your own turning point?

Short Answer: Yes! often times (like right now). Thank you for asking.

Long Answer:

I should have zigged instead of zagged.

I should have flimed instead of flamed.

I should have could have instead of would have.

I should have ying instead of yang.

I should have rocked instead of rolled.

I should have bobbed instead of weaved.

I should have hustled instead of bustled.

I should have crissed instead of crossed.

I should have fished instead of cut bait.

I should have hipped instead of hopped.

I should have rythm instead of blues.

I should have dillied instead of dallied.

I should have dived instead of shucked.

I should have leaned to instead of fro(ed).

Well, that about covers it.

And remember...

"When you come to a fork in the road, pick it up." - Yogi Bera

A Demon and an Angel on Miracle Mile: Epilogue

Fri, 13 Apr 2012 16:04:48 -0400

Fiction Weekend for 4/13-4/15/2012

I did not follow the prompt this weekend. Instead, I continued with the "Soul Collectors: On Miracle Mile Series".

If you wish to read the previous installments of the "On Miracle Mile Series" refer to the links below.

A Demon and an Angel on Miracle Mile: Epilogue

Bridgette left the Starbucks coffee shop and crossed the street as the long-delayed bus pulled into its stop. It was blowing out black puffs of smoke from the engine compartment. The bus’s front and back electronic destination signs blinked “Not in Service”.

The bus’s air brakes made an unearthly hiss as it came to a full stop. The front and side doors opened. The disgruntled passengers got off and formed a mob around the bus stop. The driver got out and handed the passengers vouchers so they can get on the next bus without paying. He apologized for the inconvenience. He locked up the bus and walked away from it.

Bridgette recognized the driver and followed him into an alley. The driver sensing he was being followed spun around and smiled when he recognized Bridgette.

“My! You look so official in that bus driver’s uniform,” Bridgette said, “but you still look like you belong in some jazz band that only plays in dimly lit gin joints.”

“It’s just a temporary gig,” Bob smiled, “besides, I heard you needed help.” Bob then pulled out a long skinny cigar from his shirt pocket. He peeled off the wrapped and placed the cigar’s plastic mouthpiece in his mouth. Next, he held his index finger up close to the cigar end and a flame shot out of his finger to light the cigar. He took a long drag and slowly released the smoke through his slightly flared nostrils.

“Aren’t you afraid that someone will notice what you just did?” Bridgette said with an arched eyebrow.

“Nah,” Bob replied, “most mortals are so caught up in themselves that they don’t notice the things that go on around them.”

“Damn! These Italian jobs are mild,” he said more to himself than to Bridgette. “You know I always wanted to be a bus driver. Back when I a mortal, growing up, I would look out the window from the little apartment my mother and I lived in. The apartment was over a storefront that faced a busy avenue. My room was no bigger than a walk-in closet. I could sit there all day and watch the people mill around going from one place to another or nowhere. I would always make up stories about them. I knew their habits, their patterns, the way they walked. I could predict with a good amount of accuracy when they would pass my building, which stores they would go into, who they would talk to on the street. It was better than television.”

“But the buses and their drivers always fascinated me. By the time I was ten, I knew the bus routes and the drivers by face. They looked so important climbing off the bus like they were military generals stepping foot for the first time on some land they had just conquered. Most of them took a break at the bust stop in front of my building. Some would visit my mom for a ‘quickie’ if you know what I mean. I always wanted to talk to them to find out what it was like to drive a big city bus…but momma would tell me to stay in my room when her ‘customers’ stopped by.”

As Bob spoke, Bridgette studied him. He was handsome. He had that rugged face and chiseled chin that most women liked. His thick, slicked-back, dark hair was hidden under a forest green bus driver’s baseball cap. Her eyes panned down the length of his long neck and watched his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat. Bridgette’s eyes then wandered over the expanse of Bob’s chest which seemed to yearn to get out of the light green shirt. His chest ended in a “V” meeting at the waistline of his tight fitting forest green pants. Poking out of the shirt’s short sleeves were two muscular arms that seemed to pulsate with prurient passions. His arms were tattooed with the heads of men and women. The heads were placed tightly together in a cluster formation like a honeycomb. The head tattoos faces slowly changed expressions as if they were living. Their faces showed sorrow, pain, suffering and regret. Their lips moved as if they were whispering prayers. The thoughts “Collected Souls: past transgressions; eternal penance” ran through Bridgette’s mind.

As Bridgette the Angel regarded Bob the Demon, a certain stirring resonated throughout Bridgette’s abdomen and worked its way down. A blush slowly rose to her face. Bridgette was shocked that she could have such feelings. But what startled her was the sensation was concentrating just below her navel. This sensation that was new to her. It was passion that she did not live long enough to experience. The feeling delighted yet embarrassed her.

“How’s Cristina?” Bob said startling Bridgette from her engrossed observations.

“For now,” Bridgette said, “she needs medical attention, but she’ll do fine. She is a good girl; she made a bad mistake; and she will make more in the future, but things will work out for her eventually.”

“Didn’t you break a few rules back at the coffee shop?” Bob said.

“Not really,” replied Bridgette, “Cristina was in the midst of a miscarriage by the time I showed up. I just helped speed up the process.”

“With just one touch?” Bob asked.

“Just one touch,” responded Bridgette, “actually it took several, but it worked.”

“What happened to the embryo?” Bob asked.

“Thanks! I’m glad you reminded me,” she said.

Bridgette reached into her large purse and produced the ectoplasmic form of the embryo. It floated in the palm of her hand, and within in seconds in evaporated.

“Where did it go?” Bob said.

“In a few seconds, a young wife will be very excited about the results of her early pregnancy test,” said Bridgette.

“Aren’t you worried that somebody saw what you did?” Bob asked.

“No,” Bridgette said and smiled, “most mortals are so caught up in themselves that they don’t notice the things that go on around them. At least that’s what someone told me.”

Bob smiled, turned and vanished into thin air. Bridgette watched him leave and decided to take a long leisurely walk down Miracle Mile.

"Soul Collectors: On Miracle Mile Series"

Part One: "Bridgette on Miracle Mile"

Part Two: "Helping a Troubled Teen"

Open Salon Cell Phone Images Directory Open Call

Thu, 29 Mar 2012 17:03:29 -0400

The other day I posted some photos that I had store in my iPhone. While putting the post together, I thought it would be a good idea to make it an Open Call (OC) which prompted some of you to participate. This OC received such a good response that I decided to create a directory so that you can easily find the images the other bloggers posted.

Here are the ones who participated to date:

Little Kate, shares with us a glimpse of the wonders from Down Under.

hugs, me gave us tour of her town and fingernail.

Zumalicious showed us some techno porn NSFW(?) : )

Firechick shared with us her cute pup, her "booty" and an office clown.

Jewllya offered us a glimpse of the priceless jewel in her life.

L in the Southeast has a deep-rooted mystery. Firechick solved it.

Joan H. provided us with an ecletic collection.

Ishmoopie did a good deed for her peeps.

If you wish to participate, please tag your post with one of the following: "Photos in My Cell Phone", "Camera Phone Photos", "Photos from My Camera Phone", "Cell Phone Photos" and be sure to add "Trudge’s Open Call" to the tags.

If you want to be part of the directory, send me a PM with the URL in the message field and put Cell Phone Photos in the subject line. I will update this directory with links to your post. I plan to update the directory until Sunday, April 1, 2012.

The following are more images from my cell phone. I hope you enjoy them.

Yours truly at the beach:

Little Trudgette as a not so Angry Bird:

Close up of my cat:

Big John's Pickled Sausages:

Little Trudgette gearing up for the midnight premiere of

"The Hunger Games":

Milk & Cookies: