Robert wants stories... Here's one!

["Frank Olson" <feolson@xxxxxxxxxx>]

Chapter One: A Cry in the Dark!

It was a windswept and rainy evening. The windshield wipers kept a steady
rhythm with "big D" Parton's Coal Miner's Daughter as I crept along the
express way in the gathering gloom. Suddenly I felt a hum from my left pants
pocket and I reached in to snag my FIDO cell phone... First thing I noticed
was the low battery symbol right next to the "Old Folks CareHome"
centered on my call display. I knew this call was trouble.

"We need help", the caller said. "All the mag locks on the Alzheimer's Ward
just opened and we can't get them to relock. We've got patients wandering
around everywhere."

"No problem", I replied. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

Big problem, I thought. We hadn't installed the door lock system. I'd
dreaded receiving a trouble call about it because I knew the Mickey Mouse
company that had. So much for the dinner I'd planned on cooking for the
family. I knew I'd be searching for the power supply and transformer all
night... in an Alzheimer's Ward... I could think of better ways to spend an
evening...

"Old Folks CareHome" is an old building... No particular heritage... A
hodge-podge of additions and renovations that are always on the go...
Tonight was no exception... The entrance foyer looked like a war zone.
Displaced ceiling tiles revealed a maze of ducts, pipes, and haphazardly
strung wires everywhere. Rolls of linoleum hunkered down behind a wooden
barricade in the center of foyer like soldiers in a foxhole. I winced at
fire alarm cables tie-wrapped to 110 VAC runs and smoke detectors hanging
from makeshift hooks fashioned from cut up coat hangers... Yup... another
quality project by Donald Duck Construction.

"Any reno's going on on the second floor", I asked Mary, the flustered nurse
that met me at the door.

"No," she said. "And the guys at DD Construction weren't even here when the
locks just stopped working."

I couldn't help but notice she had a face and body that would straighten an
I.V. tube and I noticed several old guys seated in the lobby followed her
figure like the crowd at Wimbledon follows the bouncing ball across the
court as she lead me away to the second floor. I observed one adjusting his
pacemaker and oxygen mask. I sympathized and fiddled with the screw drivers
in my tool pouch as we walked down the corridor to the stairs together.
Hmmm, I thought... No panty lines... And that's one tight skirt...

Sure enough... the door at the base of the stairs was unlocked. A rather
comfortable looking heavy arm chair blocked the door way.

"Sorry about this", Mary mumbled as she bent over to move the chair aside.
Visions of her seated in the chair, her skirt split to show a smooth well
formed leg kept me from noticing the little old lady standing quietly by the
door until she spoke.

"Can you help me bring in my piano?" she asked. "It's outside in the rain
and I'm afraid it's all wet".

"Sorry ma'am", I responded. "That's a different union. If I even touched
your piano, the Piano Movers Union Local 310 would set up pickets all over
the place and I would be in a lot of trouble."

"Oh... Well... I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble."

"Thank you," I said, pushing the chair (minus Mary) back in front of the
door.

"You handled Mrs. S. very well", Mary giggled, as we continued down the hall
to the nurses station.

"Thanks."