“Mary Mac, Not The Nursery Rhyme”


“A moment in life and exiting a club in Hollywood, others who had obviously kept eyes on me when in the club, had other intentions.  Interception took place just as we left the light and became, shadows.  The valet, he definitely saw us and knew what was about to happen, couldn’t have been nothin’ nice.  Still, no financial interest to him, looking the other way was easy.  Cowardly I know but…  Couldn’t concern myself with it at the time.

Stage set, parts assigned, the Boyz approached and gave their demands.  One, had fear all over his face.  He wished to be anywhere but there but he…  Had cowardly traits also and impishly held his stance.  But…  The weakness had been identified and I exploited the opening, taking full advantage.  They wanted me to leave and.  Abandon my girl, which wasn’t such a horribly idea.  As I, so could she be.  Her innate coding, just like me and for them to assume she’d bow-down, oblige their sick thoughts.  Hummm, images of them scramblin’ for a means to reach-out, sheepishly asking if I’d flip the script.  Executing an immediate evac, separating them from any further headaches.  But…  I had left that part of me a long time ago and wasn’t about to leave her with these idiots.  After my brief monologue, they saw it my way, realized I’d read the entire book while they…  Were guilty of employing the quick scan technique and managed to see but a few pages.  On their court, out numbered and obviously on our own but…  The home team had no chance of a win.  Walked away, dejected, and empty-handed.

Those who know me know this isn’t fiction.  Those of you who deep down in the recesses of your mind, hear that voice tellin’ you “Believe, Believe”.  Stop hatin’ and accept every word as true.  Embellishments I really don’t do.  Remember I previously shared what a Producer from Warner’s Pictures once told me.  That thing about editing the ending of my Memoirs so it’d be more acceptable by the money FOLK.  Once I complied, my story be on my way to the Silver Screen and I…  Missed them too.  What I had submitted, witnessed, lived, breathed.  All day in every way, only to dilute “me” for the sake of, media exposure.  I understand the methodology of “Sell Outs”.

To really develop a pro-active stance where He and She are concerned, you’ve gotta push when you can.  Pull if you have to and know under many adverse situations, when selfish interpretations manifest, assumptions are your worst adversary.

Right about now assumptions will be left to those sitting on the sideline doing what they do best, spotting up, being the spectator.  This is me, comin’ from a life most haven’t even dreamed of actually existing, ‘cept for those who’ve pushed the envelope within their primary personal relationship.  Revealing things that you’re still trying to figure out the meaning of.  Regardless, enjoy this dish.  As time marches on, what you’ve digested will serve you just as it has I.  Letting you know when you stand for something, you won’t keep falling for the drama others bring into your life. 

Mary Mac, like the other one, she also dressed in black, but far from a nursery rhyme.  The night we spent together after bathing, she re-appeared, dipped in gold.

Observing me via her rear-view camera, I was able to catch a glimpse of her gaze.  Eyes, compelling.  Caught in their stare they, expression of a trait known as “intensity of depth“.  Hers, conveying to me a woman with an extreme past and…  Although the place may have invoked major fears, she wasn’t the one to frighten easily.  Where she was now, returned her to that mindset offering her a welcoming review of what had been missing from her life.  True, personal justice with live stimuli.

Words, weren’t exchanged.  No need, she picked me up.  I accepted the access provided by the extension of an opened passenger door.  Soft Connelly leather seats, very smooth and always supple.  I loved this mode of traveling.  Sliding in, inhaling calmly, I awaiting ignition.  Our eyes didn’t exchange those “googly stares” most rush into play when first meeting.  Sometimes those moves to yesterday.  She came with a classic approach, silently slipped her foot off the brake and onto the gas pedal with acceleration coming like a Jet in full frontal thrust.  Lucas Road, North Coast, just outside the San Francisco Peninsula.  Sun, setting. Climate and view, inspiring.  Spiraling up, down and around the road concealed within the tall timber, Mary Mac knew the terrain.  Now, in a clearing we could see a small residential enclave and occasionally she’d pointed to a huge property strategically placed along the mountain side.  Following her sighting I enjoyed the accompanying narration.  Mary Mac had become intimately familiar with these surroundings.  The back stories of the inhabitants and what made up this assumedly jewel of a secluded environment.  Like all things surprising, I felt it and didn’t even know it as coming.  As if on cue, The Pacific Ocean came into sight.  Mary Mac down shifted, the car purred as it slowed to a stop.  The Bodega Bay Lodge.    

Paper bag in hand gave off a “street level” appearance.  And I know those staring assumed our bag containing some sort of alcoholic beverage.  In watching them, their iddy-bitty minds encompassing images of “ghetto dwellers”.  To take ’em all home I tipped the bottle, brown bag and all, up to my lips.  took a swig and passed it to Mary Mac.  She followed suit as we kept walking.  We laughed at those hiding their lips and squinted their eyes while attempting to muffle the gossip erupting from their mouths.  “Looky-Loos” got an eye full.

Night came and some how we managed to get tucked inside a suite.  Early, we continued, only now, observing things from the balcony.  The atmosphere, how we arrived, gave the whole experience a deliciously wicked feel.  Continuing down our yellow brick road, exchanging thoughts and ideas on life and the pursuit of individual happiness all became, more meaningful.  Morning came with fog.  We got it all together and  Mary Mac…  Rode as passenger in her own car, recreating the role I previously played.  I…  The Navigator, driving the winding roads now.  Convo, a continuation of the previous night’s discussion.  Passing The SkyWalker Ranch she incorporated the personally established mystic of George Lucas into our dialogue with a genuine smoothness.  The transition and  inclusive nature considering the analogy made perfect sense.  Her presence really got cool points.  Just before parting ways, she said something that revealed the depth of that intensity held with her eyes.  Those words, “It’s been a pleasure to finally met a man who’s comfortably in his own skin“.  With that said, we looked at each other for… A bit too long.  One of those eye locks that said, “If we could, maybe we should, but then…“.  We broke it off almost at the same point.

 Mary Mac.  Married to Bev.  No, not a same sex relationship, Bev is Beverly but…  That as far as the sex connotation goes.  Their previous lifestyle, one that has received wide vindication through syndication,   moving to public justified through the character recreation of “Walter White of The Breaking Bad Series“.  Un Hun, Mary & Bev, once dealt drugs, but their involvement happened as a by-product of their actual professional activities.  Assassinations was their primary occupation.  One perk of the life was access to those politically connected and the fabled circles of The Rich and Famous.  Now, through the insistent of “G-FOLK” (see government fixers), they had a new life on a completely different coast and…

FlashBack.  Prior to separating from Mary Mac and based on a personal invite, I had veered off the main winding road, unto another side road.  A huge gate prevented further movement but.  Leaning onto and over me, Mary Mac stretched her limbs to reach the keypad.  Punching in a code, the gates parted giving us a clear entry path.  The crunching sounds of pebble-rock beneath the tires was familiar sound, then.  A house.  Rising from within surrounding trees and a man coming strolling from them.  He wore shoulder holsters minus the guns.  The color of them against his light-colored shirt gave his appearance a Crime Noir effect.  Without knowing I knew, this was Bev.  Not intimidated and no signs of speculation etched within his face.  Mary Mac, evidentially could care less, she hopped out the door Bev had opened, planted a kiss on his cheek and ran towards the house.  Not really requiring any formal anything, he and I took advantage of the private time and walked around.  Conversation flowed, an unspoken  acquaintance was there making this okay.  Bev, Mary Mac, were living their lives.  They didn’t push for inclusion from or of me.  One thing they were in search of though was…

Since that encounter I’ve seen many Mary Mac’s.  Not with such an exciting Back-Story but in a psychological sense regarding the impacts of their decisions.  Mary Mac didn’t prop her passenger door open to pic up some guy appearing to be in need of a lift as much as she sought one projecting an aura of comfort.  Someone who would impact her life as much as she’d add to…  In my case, his.  Not to appear “full of myself” but like minds attract.  The maturation if not there from the beginning, eventually kicks in, making most encounters understandable.  From the life she stepped from, she either grew up quick or.  Was a quicker study.  One slip and…  No matter how you, change your identity, it’s over.  Same can be said about what goes on between He and She.  Many take way too much for granted assuming they’ll get another chance when the reality is…  No matter, back to Mary Mack.

She had a very raspy voice, I referred to this as the “MacyGrayish” compliment.  Her speech cadence, melodic, far from methodical, confirming more regarding her personal disposition.  When engaged in a personal conversation methodical is an indication coming from a point where one lacks personal strength.  Don’t get it?  Ok, check this, simply watch one’s eagerness towards representing from the position of a clone.  Its done because they have no belief in self and even when powerful, those who really don’t know power, learn but won’t revert back to incorporate what they’ve learned only.  Become incorporated and merely follow as; clone.  Our encounter wasn’t by chance but by design.  She as I had been on a mission via a cosmic highway.  The meeting, our talks, pure fuel.  Energy so  each could power back up, continuing the journey.

Mary Mac had a significant other.  I like to think we all have that special someone.  We…  Were out and about, traveling solo and still aware of our other half.  Still she knew who she was and maintained a dignity not usually on display under the circumstances which brought us together.  Maturation, like that word.  It comes to those who…  Mature.  No matter where you’ve been, despite who you “may” decide to assume being, you will always be, you.

During our talks she spoke of the characters of some of those she had, (fill in the blanks and you’ll be able to stay with me).  People no matter the walk of life they came from had a common theme when the end was near.  She said they begged.  “Please, don’t kill me.  You can have all my money just don’t kill meI’ll do whatever you want just let us live, we will go away and no one will ever hear from us again, please“.  From Mary Mac to Bev, they saw this as audacious of man and kind.  Their observation of FOLK prompted them to asked me if I thought we as a nation had a Class.  I knew this question was leading but…  I wanted to stay on this ride and gave them an answer they hadn’t thought of.  Money defines the class in Western Society, period.”  This response triggered something in Bev.  As he kicking at some imaginary something on the grass, casually he said.  “Since you pull up to my home, driving my wife’s car, un-announced.  Looking comfortable as hell, accepting my Ice Tea while you know I’m wondering about you.  Yes, out of your element wouldn’t you say, but I wonder.  Is  it your race that gives you swag  or the women?  Mary Mac for instance, does being with her position you in an  entitlement sorta light? Man, tell me something because I want to know.”  Bev was very tactful which was why there was no sense in challenging.  In fact, he nor I experienced any testosterone rushes.  All said by him was “tongue in cheek”.  But…  I knew there was no way me coming up with Wifey went un-noticed.  When spending as much time together as they had, both attune to the others behaviors.  Up close extending to when far far away.  He knew Mary Mac’s personal motivations which probably told him why she sought someone while driving alone, on the winding roads.  Understanding how one achieves inspiration in order to gain personal insight so they can extinguish those negative faults clearing their consciousness is.  Whoosh.  Yes, I got all this outta a day in the life of Mary Mac and Bev.

Back to Bev and his question.  He brought race into it and I wasn’t letting it slide.  I told him race isn’t definitive of the class just as money won’t give you class.  Ending with, “Bev it’s like this, your woman came, I saw and you know I wanted to conquer, basically her eyes sorta’ pulled me in, like one of those beams appearing from some celestial star you’ve noticed way out in the distance.  Ya know.  And Bev, just so you know, much like you’d feel if in the same transfixing light, I wanted to, alright.”  He could have played stupid but…

In his past life he took those who created misery out of theirs.  Mary Mac, stood with him because that is the type of woman she came from.  They were given a different identity in exchange for something “G-FOLK” assumed valuable.  But…   Neither of the two changed from who they were.  In hanging out I was made privy to one of the ways they amused themselves.  They cruised The Net looking for sites where one Ex or the other post all their intimate stuff regarding their past lives.  beginning with pics that were taken during the times of, “Personal and Private Prosperity“.  Sometimes love letters mad the hit list.  Then I saw their real skills.  “Reverse Engineering” as it applies to identity.  I mean, who better should know?  Many of their skills needed to do their jobs Back-In-The-Day required the same technical know hows used today.  I watched, they worked.  Researched from what they had gotten off The Net by the same fold who posted without naming who they were.  That’s when I knew.  I knew Mary Mac and Bev hadn’t wasted a moment of their time wondering if or when they’d be discovered.  Boredom hadn’t crept into their psyche’.  They had all the juicy stuff on FOLK who…  Thought they couldn’t be found because of listing themselves, anonymous.

Educational records with kindergarten pics, they had ’em.  These two even had the software used to advance physical age so even if the “anonymous” denied it was them, they had visual associations.  These two were good.  despite of who they had been, the level of comfort between them was refreshing.

Significant others, Hubby, Wifey, He, She, Wanna Bes.  Each is who they are and once the time with another expires, and one or both assume they’ve been played.  Misused, abused and, dissed.  Vengeance sets in.  Sprouting off at the mouth about what was with the “sprouter” saying they didn’t do it makes me say, enough.  Despite of how things ended up, all parties involved always had command of who and what hey were involved in.  Hiding, denial, they got it good, even after the fact.  Acceptance of some of their illustrious past isn’t ever a consideration.  But ‘cha know, what you’ve been into doesn’t make or define you.   What you’ve been involved in, when…  Coming from something really does define those cool points everyone is searching for.  That fact of who one is, allows for the same one to acquire an understanding of how the world may be perceived.  When you realize you are only in this world but a minute you get a true sense of…  “Do you impact “you” or become impacted by others and outside forces that evolve around you!”  

Mary Mac, Bev, they’ve been given a different identity and yet.  They accept who they are and what they’ve been into.  She, out on a drive, stayed the night with a stranger no less.  Bev. home alone, yet still with total awareness she was alright. His personal characteristic, indicative of one who is fully in-touch with…  I’ve given you all enough.  You decide.

In leaving the dynamic was still magnificent.  To Bev I simple said, “I enjoyed Bev“.  He came back with, “Definitely, definitely, good to have met you, good“.  Mary Mac got a wave with words.  “Keep ridin’“.  Two different verbalization’s expressing the same feelings to two who understood no matter the inference.  Oh yes, they are…  Hope to die, Killers, no doubt.  And don’t twist it, you are too, down to your primary relationship.

Psssss; Those assuming.  Conjuring up all these wild images of a devoted couple whom I’ve exposed, here.  Now hunted, trapped and taken.  Fingernails ripped off Bev as he has to witness his woman being ravaged.  Mary Mac, three-pointed over a saddle bench, crying.  Won’t happen so don’t trip.  They are who they are and even though the neighbors within their ‘hood greeted us, all smiles.  Full of admiration at the sight of such wonderful neighbors.  Please.  Mary Mac, Bev, knew exactly where they asked the “G-FOLK” to relocate and deliver them.  New names, different bank accounts.  Surrounded by…  regardless, knowing this, I wouldn’t advise or suggest anyone to assume they are…  Targets.  Then on second thought, maybe.  Just maybe they’d welcome the…  Excitement.


One Response to ““Mary Mac, Not The Nursery Rhyme””

  1. You’ve gotten awesome info right.

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