Henge watched the blue crown of the gas burner cup the bottom of the percolator pot, and meditated on the blurbs of hot brown organic coffee lapping the inside of the yellowed percolator bulb on the top. He went over his notes for the day’s Hubba Bubba radio show. On a few crumpled sheets of yellow legal paper, Henge had transcribed his ( Read more... )

            Pete Limpelli made it to the Greater Cincinnati area a couple of weeks before the naval battle. At the first chatter, the first dropping of the glove by both Henge and Ed Groat, both Pete Limpelli, and Carmine Calamari were ready.

“Minchia,” Pete said to the manager of the Frisch’s restaurant. Pete had the fish sandwich, and had told ( Read more... )

            Henge and Len quibbled, for a few moments, over the bill. The Soup Salad and Fruit Bar tipped Henge’s portion of the check to mostly his side.

The price of genius, Henge thought, was a voracious appetite.

Len and Henge walked out the metal framed glass doors into the August stifle. Someone was smoking outside ( Read more... )

            The waitress came, and asked Henge and Len Wiedeshofer if they wanted anything else. Henge picked up the dessert menu from the condiment island, just behind the Heinz ketchup bottle, and said he needed a minute.

The hostess led two men to the booth behind them. It was a window booth, just like theirs, and they looked like ( Read more... )

            The water cannon, the main weapon of Henge’s small sailboat, was sub lethal, and was to be powered by a hand pump mechanism. Henge liked the simplicity. And crafted and hand powered. Not dependant on oil or some energy subsidiary of oil. Raw man power. Though Henge preferred calling it, in some circles; human power, he would, however, ( Read more... )

            The water cannon, was designed, on a napkin, to be a semi powerful, sub lethal weapon - the kind you would find suitable for a naval battle on a small Midwestern lake on the outskirts of a college town.

“No,” said Henge through breathy slurps of his macaroni salad from the Soup Salad and Fruit Bar in Frisch’s. “Bubba, I don’ ( Read more... )

            The water cannon was manufactured in the tiny Cheviot Machine and Screw shop on Glenmore, before Harrison, and after Gamble. The one in the basement of the storefront building, with the awning, with the apartments on the second and third floors for bachelors with hot plates, who liked to masturbate at pictures of glossy Ass Thumper ( Read more... )