[formerly known as Hard Copy; before that, The Holmes Family Newsletter]
Taking her cue from Lucy's dog, Coyote, Denise is also expecting puppies, er, that is, a child sometime mid to late September. Congratulations, Denise (and Steve)!
Steve is set to undergo double surgery. The plan is to take some bone from one of his ribs and put it in his jaw. No kidding! Then they will wire his jaw shut for three weeks. Denise stated, "If the doctors didn't do it, I would have."
In an elaborate scheme to elude her creditors, Diane is officially changing her name. BULLSEYE spoke with her about it and she explained, "Well, it was difficult choosing a new last name. I mean, there are so many! But, I eventually settled on [redacted]. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Doug "did a bit of sightseeing, but mostly went into the many
camera shops which also advertise in photo magazines."
By now, most of you have probably received his open letter to the family. Interesting letter, don't you think? Did you notice that the Holmes family mascot seems to be a woodpecker? Aside from the last half of the word, what does a woodpecker signify. Did you know the Holmes family even had a mascot? Does anyone out there speak Hungarian? Is there anyone out there?
BULLSEYE spoke with the world traveller live via satellite the other day and Mike confirmed that, yes, he is still in Germany. He says he plans to be back in California sometime in April or May of this year.
Last week, somebody broke into Bill's car and stole his tool chest,
all his cassette tapes (about 80 tapes!), plus his little hand-held tape recorder.
Counting the expense of repairs and the value of the stolen items, it adds up to about
$600 worth. When BULLSEYE caught up with Bill the other day and asked him what he
plans to do about it, he explained "I'm growing a mustache."
Also, Bill is hot on the trail of a check forger. It all started when Don sent Bill's mail (including a $280 rent deposit refund check) to Bill in a "plain brown wrapper." The package never got to Bill, so Bill filled out a"tracer" form at the U.S. Post Office. Of course, that did no good. So, three months later, still with no package, Bill decided to call his old apartment manager and have them stop payment on the old check and issue a new one. That would have worked, except that somebody had apparently found Bill's check (probably a mail carrier), forged his endorsement on the back of the check and deposited said check into a bank account in San Francisco. Of course, the guy will be caught because he was stupid enough put his bank account number on the back of the check. So, it's just a matter of time before investigators at his bank, B of A, find him — unless, of course, he has closed out his account and moved out of state. Assuming they find him, bank officials have been given instructions to hand the forger over to Bill for "questioning."
It was late. Claude couldn't sleep. He decided to walk to the corner
liquor store for munchies and beer.
As he entered the store, he noticed a girl at the phone-booth by the door. She smiled a curious smile and Claude smiled back uncertainly, then proceeded into the store. Grabbing the things he needed, he brought them up to the man behind the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, Claude noticed the phone-booth girl hang up the phone with a crash and walk away. Claude dug into his pants pocket for his cash, paid the cashier and walked out of the store.
Once outside, Claude spotted the girl walking briskly ahead. His long legs brought him to within a few yards of the girl fairly quickly. At close range, he noticed she was staggering slightly from side to side. When he came up alongside her he asked if she was okay. She said yes, but thanks for asking.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" he persisted. She smiled sheepishly as if being found out and admitted she was "slightly" drunk.
"Do you need a ride, or something?" Claude offered.
"A ride? You don't even have a car," the girl slurred. Then, quite unexpectedly, she put her arm under his and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was drunk, alright, he thought, and he smiled.
He escorted her the block and a half to his apartment, and together they made their way up the stairs to his door. Once inside, she wrapped her arms around him, kissed him on the lips, then collapsed, unconscious.
He checked her pulse to make sure she was still alive, and breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed that she was. Claude, always the gentleman, then placed her delicately onto his bed to sleep it off.
"Not much of a date," he said to no one in particular. He turned on the television, lit a cigarette and made himself comfortable on the couch.
In the middle of the night, the girl awakened to the smell of smoke and saw, through very blurry eyes and a throbbing head, smoke coming off the carpet in the middle of the floor. She instantly sobered up. Claude continued sleeping on the couch with a lit cigarette just out of his unconscious grasp.
The girl jumped out of bed and began stamping the fire out with her foot. All that stamping woke Claude up, and he raised his head to see what was going on. His sudden movement frightened her and she kicked him in the throat. Without realizing it or even trying to, she had just killed him.
The girl decided to get out of his apartment before he, if he, woke up. Trying to think clearly through her mental fog, she found Claude's lighter, lit some newspaper and threw it onto the floor. She then rummaged through Claude's things and found his wallet and car keys. Taking the cash and major credit cards from the wallet, she dropped the wallet into the fire and bolted out the door. The fire quickly spread and soon engulfed the entire apartment. By the time dead Claude's smoke alarm went off, the girl was searching the parking lot for Claude's car. A little leather strap on Claude's key ring said "Camaro" on it. There was only one Camaro in the lot, and the keys opened the door. Five seconds later, she was on her way out into the street.
One of dead Claude's neighbors heard the fire alarm and came out of his apartment. He smelled the smoke and followed it to Claude's door. Bursting into the smoke-infested room, he found Claude half on the couch, half on the floor. Leaving him there for the moment, he ran out to the hallway, grabbed the fire extinguisher, ran back into the apartment and doused the flames with the fire extinguisher.
Then he noticed some of Claude's personal belongings — a personal computer, a large-screen tv and VCR and, in the far corner of the one-room apartment, stood a fairly expensive-looking piano.
The neighbor looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else was around. He was surprised and disappointed to find two young men smiling at him nervously just outside the doorway. The young men stopped smiling and ran straight for the television and VCR, yanking the plugs out of the wall and disappearing out the door. The remaining neighbor hesitated a moment, then decided to follow their lead. He quickly unplugged the computer and carted it off to his apartment.
With the computer safely stashed in his closet, the neighbor couldn't help but watch through a crack in the door to see who else might loot Claude's apartment.
A small dog wandered up to Claude's door. It timidly sniffed at Claude's doorstep a moment or two while its owner called out its name. The dog heard the calls and raised its head in response. But, like most dogs, it chose to ignore its owner and continue sniffing. The dog then wandered over to Claude's dead body, sniffed a couple more times, then lifted its leg and peed on him.
It has been brought to our attention that the name Hard Copy is currently being used by one of those tabloid trash t.v. shows. And since we don't want this newsletter to be confused with any other tabloid trash, we're having a contest to find a new name! The contest is, oddly enough, called "Name That Newsletter!" This is your big chance to do a little name-calling! The one who comes up with the best name will receive a free copy of that issue! Send your suggestions to 16__ H Street, #__, Sacramento, CA 95___. Or call (916) 4xx-4xxx.