Bits about what I’m about to write -about 2.5 or I’m about to dive

Ideals first gets behind the wheel,

With ants on his legs he swats his pants,

Out of gas, or flat tires, or the crash of a boulder from Mars,

anyway, what does all that matter at this late date?

He lets out one more smelly squeal, wheels migh be coming off,


How does that feel?




Who knows what will bring about their own death?

not nearly enough rest,

climbing on top of the nest,

sex in a pine or oak tree,

or your favorite fishing chair breaks, an the complaint is your neck?  What the heck!

Oh, lets all die in rocket ships,  better still in the comic strips,

With all we know, the power and length of Googling,

We should be able to sit on the beach forever an look lewdly at girls,



Boys are flat out paper bags,


pop but seldom twang,

To get music  from them even as a kazoo,

best to introduce them to the animals in the zoo!


To eat you, even if you taste horrid,

I’d first have to cut you up,

choose knife or pen,

an before I cook,



Jobs are horrible ways to spend a life,

Forget mom an dad –use your own head,

Find your own fun,  or be quite derned, burned, left unsaid, might as well have stayed in bed!


Being born is jeepers creepers, being born is the beginning of being worn, being born is light to brighten night, being born is to get your own horn, being born is about the greatest treat, being born means all of us can meet, being born ensures the vote, being born means all of us will live over and over again.

Being aborted is murder an down below under, maybe the reason for thunder, the most horrible scheme, kills a baby who would be you, us, me, we!


People are hunters and gatherers,

Those who would rather do it and ones who would rather not,

Also there is the little snot.

Some are who mouths open, and seldom closed,


Wonderful folks who sing, dance, an draw,

We who gather fun, and those others who will have none !



Of course we could be blown up to the sky,

On airlines we could die,

The world is a construction project,  from which people could fall under rubble,

Natural causes and normal accidents seldom make much in the papers,

Buses also may be dangers, cars kill every minute,

but in airlines people line up for hours,

for quicker trips, when slow is more fun,

Terrorists can get you at ten thousand feet or in a Grayhound back seat.

It’s your treat.


You wanted to wait, but my gage was on rush.  We were that close, but like is always bits more, never are we smart enough for our very most.  We strive, sweat, bet, let, stop, dot –then we turn to toast.











Random Ideas For a Story

Lad’s Tale

Daytona Beach is right sleazy, I mean keep one hand on your wallet, an update your concealed carry license.  They took Lanis Jake out of his apartment in handcuffs and Merry Ott asked the cop, “What is he charged with officer?”  The reply was, “Suspicion of some crime, we’ll think one up soon.”  We never heard from Lanis again  Merry sent a letter to the jail and it came back ‘No Such Person’.

She asked me what to do because she was fucking him, and I said, “Get him a lawyer and have the lawyer look for him.  She did that and the lawyer went to the jail and for Merry’s $2oo. deposit, on the total fee, they told the lawyer, “There is no arrest record, he was not here.” Well that was the story when she had tired to call him. She was afraid to file a police report cause the Guys in Blue came about every day to our house to roust the prostitutes around, and Merry could be the next missing person.

Well now Lanis can’t sue the bastards for ‘Unreasonable force’, bashing in his head, an ‘false charge’ because everyone at the house knew that Lanis never left the house for anything except on Sunday. He went to the Christian Science church to pray that his nose cancer would heal and his neck brace would just melt away.

It was a Saturday when the cops came an he’d been home all week.  They probably killed Lanis.  I’m going to split his belongings with Merry.  I get the choice things because I’m bigger. The trouble is Lanis was as poor as us, and the whole contents are probably worth $600 maybe less at Beach Pawn.  The proprietor there is LeRoy and he gives about a quarter on the dollar.


The Doctor

I call him the Big Blue Pill guy and he calls me Backpack, cause I ware one with my valuables in it)  Doc gives me one pill to take and $500. per week. It’s a big blue pill with squirrely lines around it.  I know It’s a chance and the doctor is probably not a real doctor, but who cares, he gives me $500 bucks for every pill I swallow and wow, it didn’t kill me yet. I also get a Doctor Pepper Drink,  and that’s just one more thing I don’t have to buy.

The doctor is small, dressed like a doc in white clothes.  He sits in usually a Holiday Inn in Ormond Beach or some fancy condo in Wilber-by-the-Sea every week an people come in and take their pills.  At first there were this bunch of retired losers  I guess I’m one to, the college I taught at in Nashville went Chapter Nowhere, and teachers of 20 years got zilch. Well I did get $20,000. when my niece died, I got all her life insurance because her mother is a witch, really broom an all.  Claims to fly places at night, I believe her, but stay away.  She hates me for getting that money.  Well the Doc’s $500  gives me new energy, vigor, and I’m chasing women again.



Lad lives in a shamble-down apartment in the worst part of Daytona Beach.  I’m drawn to older men.  Some girls like tall or short, some like rich or poor, others smart or dumb but I like old,  like daddy.  I was always daddy’s girl until I shot him as he whacked mother, but I don’t tell Lad my father’s in the federal pen.  I actually shot the gun, but he claimed he did,  well he only got 10 years and that’s better than the Indian Reservation.  Well I’m an Indian, but their the biggest bunch of drunks I could ever imagine, I don’t want children because I would contribute to drunkenness

Well Lad or Back Pack,  Lad’s  new name,  was a professor of philosophy at a girls college in Nashville Tennessee,  an I bet the girls were crazy about cute little him.  Well he is taller than me, but he lived in a total dump  I straightened it up after I moved in, but he went to college and is doctor of something, but not tonsils, teeth or woman’s problems. It’s high in the air stuff like ‘To be or not to be’.  He looks more and more like my father.  Lad is not like the other old men I’ve tried, he acts younger.  If he gets acting much younger I’m going to find myself another old guy.

Lad’s apartment house is filled mostly with prostitutes, but Lad is popular, but he don’t want diseases.  Anyway the girls who work nights always need money, cause their handlers only give them a very little bit, an the Daytona Surf Pay-Day-Lend won’t pay out for prostitutes, but overall  their high earners.  It’s messy an I don’t want to do it, but it’s honest work, and not welfare. If they didn’t take so many drugs then they would be rolling in dough.  Lad gets $500. a week from the pill, so he loans money.  I actually give money to the girls for him.  $200. today for $400. next week (Lad trusts me with his money, not even my dad did that).

Sometimes their children are sick, or they have to send money to their mother  Even the girls who skip out of town, and needed a bus ticket send the money back.  Prostitutes are honest people.  The only honest trade in Daytona Beach!  I’m 20 and BackPack claims to be 70, but I think he’s flat out lying, he knows I love the older men, and he wants me to think him older than he is.  I think he’s at most 60. I think he lied to get Social Security early, I know he gets that check.  If he did that then maybe he isn’t a doctor either.  Well I’ve screwed plumbers, and bums and my father, brother, cousin an somebody on a dark night that didn’t let me see under his mask.  The Doctor often sounds like he went to college.  Uses words like: abrogate,  allegory, avarice.  He is teaching me words that I never heard before.  He must have been something like a teacher, maybe 6th grade where they do spelling. I just went to 5th, after that my father needed me at home.


Back-Pack Brick, formally Lad Brick

After about 6 months I was about Dr. Greech’s only patient so I asked him, “Why only me?”

“They all quit.” he said.

“So are you going to advertise in the Daytona Beach Journal and get more patients Doc.?

“No, my pill works.”

“You mean my hair is brown now?”

“That an more.  You said you feel much better now.  My pill is wonderful an someday everyone in the world will take my pill.”

“My hair is brown already how long will I take the pill?  I mean I’ll take it as long as you want, that $500 a week has turned my life around.  I am now sort of a loan company and a Red Cross because of your money.”

“You feel better because your younger.  The pill is for getting younger.  You are now 40 going on 30.  I’m on the pill now Lad.  Do I look different?”


This is an experiment an you can go on for as long as you want.  I plan to take pills till I’m 20, but you can become a teenager or less if you dare. I’ll make sure your adopted into a rich home if you go below being a teenager.   I’ll be taking notes, and since both of us will probably be around for quite a while, well I’ll keep having the pills and with compound interest on my million in the bank I will be really rich in 50 or 75 years.

I plan never to slide beneath age 20.

What happened to the 12 other old codgers?  Are they also going down in age?

They unfortunately had too many other ailments when they started my program.  We are the survivors.  I will leave the formula to the pill in a safety deposit box at Volusia Savings an Loan on Ridgewood Avenue.

If  something happens to me, and the police and prosecutors rule it ‘Natural Death’ then the officials at the bank will let you and only you open my box

One or both of us may have everlasting life.

Can you believe it we will be like Gods Back Pack.  The Gods of Florida! ”








‘It’s My Privacy’ by Ray Cates

“Oh mother

Mother dear

must I die in this my only year?”


“Yes little one because today you are only a fetus,

not a tot

for just four-hundred and seventy eight bucks,

we can let you drop,

so your dad and I will be content,

nightly we can go out,

and boost some beers.


Doctor Bee Happy,

just makes a killing,


out comes the babies,

pop, pop, pop,


into the garbage can,

they drop, drop, drop.


I feel like going out and saluting the red, white and blue,

this is such a spiritual,

and democratic experience,

makes me want to write the Constitution,

on the post office with,

orange spray paint.”


“Oh mother,

mother dear,

must I die,

in this my only year?”


“I am female, disguised as gentle,

with sharpened fingernails.


I could be a Marine,

or President of the United States,

gals with their fists held high,

teamster girls beating up Miss America,

God wears a leather skirt, a dagger tatto,

nose and lip ring.


                         Semper fi”

About Ray Cates

Ray Cates is a teacher and writer in Ocala Florida. He is now 73 years old. In 1961 (the year he married his current wife) he was part of the invasion force at the Bay of Pigs in Cuba. He served in the U.S. Navy and Air Force.

He has taught at the University of Florida, Webster College, Central Florida College and City College. Subjects taught were LAW, ENGLISH, BUSINESS ENGLISH

Mr. Cates owns bookstores in Ocala Florida called Ray the Trader.

He also owns a correspondence school called Oceans High School

His passions are short fiction, school reform, and good government.

Fax Ray at 352-629-1573 or leave comments here.