The Harland Highway - 812 - FINAL chapter of Harland's short story. Radio clips. 911 gone wrong

Episode Date: October 24, 2016

The final segment of Harland's short story. Crazy 911 calls. Harland on morning radio. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Well, hello, everybody. Why don't y'all mosey on up here and settle yourself down and listen to my podcast? The Harland Highway podcast, that is. Hey, everybody. Harland Williams here. Welcome to the show. I certainly hope you're doing groovy today. We're going to make you groovy, I think.

What a show today. We're going to play the final chapter of my short story, The Garden Hose Time Machine. We wrap it all up today. The conclusion of my crazy short story, I hope you enjoy it. That'll be towards the end of the show. Also, a crazy news story. Have you ever dialed 911? Well, imagine dialing 911 and it just goes, hey, wire, wait to you hear this crazy news story.

It is not pretty. It is not something you want to have happen to you. Also, we're going to play another funny segment of me doing, uh the morning radio junket on my stand-up comedy tour i recorded myself uh in studio yucking it up with the morning DJs and we had a lot of laughs we make up stuff right on the spot and i thought you guys might enjoy the laughter and the comedy so we're going to play another segment of that it's a great show uh thanks for being here let's get it going put your helmet on ladies and gentlemen this is the harland highway

What is this, some kind of a joke or something? Welcome to the Harland Highway. What you're talking about words? Son, you got a panty on your head. Shut up and sit down, you big ball fuck. Oh, God, what's happening here? What's happened? Hey, Harland, it's Shelby. You just made a wrong turn.

On to the Harland Highway. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other thing. Not because they are easy, but because they are hard. That is fantastic. Yeah. What's wrong with everybody in this crazy place? The Harland Highway. What is it?

The opening. To what? To another dimension. This is Harland Williams. You're a bad man. You're a very bad man. That is fantastic. The Harland Highway.

Crazy news story. That's weird. Wow. That's strange stuff. All right. Here we go. Oh, boy. Boy, this one is a little nutty.

A little, I mean, can you imagine? Here's the headline, gang. 911 operator accused of hanging up on callers. Huh? Holy God. Not good. The headline said, crescendo Williams is charged in Houston. There's a big picture of her, a middle-aged black woman with long,

dreadlocks in her hair, and just looking at the expression on her face, she doesn't look like the most compassionate woman. I kind of get it just looking at her. She looks a little like, whatever. So here's the story. It starts with a quote from Crescendo Williams. The quote is, ain't nobody got time for this. Oh, my God. Ain't nobody got time for this. A form of former Houston 911 operator was recorded as saying as she allegedly hung up on a security guard calling to report a street racing incident. Yeah, yeah, I ain't got time for this. Yeah, I'm sorry. I just, you know, this is 911, man.

I ain't got time for this. A news report says that the 43-year-old crescendo Williams is being charged with interfering with emergency telephone calls, a misdemeanor for allegedly hanging up on 911 callers. Houston police say Williams has admitted to the crime saying she would hang up because she did not want to talk to anyone at that time. Okay, uh, you ever kind of come to a place where you realize you're not in the right line of work? Uh, Dullo? The news reports, Williams bosses at the Houston Emergency Center say thousands of her calls

between October 2015 and March 2016 lasted less than 20 seconds. At least one call involved a robbery and homicide. Good Lord. In that case, Williams allegedly hung up on a man attempting to report an armed robbery in progress at a convenience store. Oh yeah, listen, there's a guy here with a gun He's holding the place up, man It looks like he's already shot some Hello

Hello What the fuck? 911 is hung up on my By the time the man got through To a second 911 operator And police arrived The store manager had been shot and killed Oh God

In another instance, a man called for an ambulance because his wife passed out, but he says the dispatcher who identified herself as crescendo hung up on him. He called back on a different dispatcher, and his wife survived. There's a quote here, and the guy who was shot said, I was furious, the wife says, I was furious he didn't tell me what happened, because I would have gotten from my hospital bed and gone to 911 and find out who did that to me as the wife says so williams is doing court next week oh man i'm gonna get up off this hospital bed i'll go i'll go whip some ass over at nine one one there no one be hanging up on me isn't that crazy that's a crazy news story man can you imagine uh those types of phone calls someone

I'm phoning in desperate, and you get someone like crescendo Williams? Hello, I didn't now I want our British crescendo? How can I help you? Um, yes. Um, I think there's someone in my house. I'm sorry, what, what are you saying, baby? I think there's someone in my house. I can hear someone, I can hear someone downstairs.

They're coming up the stairs. Oh, my God. Oh, man, I don't got time for this child. What? What? I don't got time. I'm doing my nails, baby. I think they're coming up the stairs.

Oh, my God, I'm hiding in the closet. I'm hiding in the closet. Oh, Christ, you know, I just don't get time for this shit. When's my lunch break, Rwanda? Hello? Yeah, I got a whisper. I think he's in the bedroom. I can see him doing the crack.

He's got to come. Oh, Christ. You know what, honey, I got to go. I mean, I'm Rwanda for lunch, baby. I can't do that. I'm doing my nails right now. This is bullshit. I think he's going to kill me.

I think he's going to kill me. Oh, cry. You know, I need to hear this. What is it? What do you mean? You know, there's a fucking man in my house will be done. I'm hiding in the closet. He's going to kill me.

Oh, my God. Oh, shit, baby. That's a bullshit. I don't need to be hearing this shit. What are you talking about? He's going to kill me. Yeah, well, maybe, you know, sometimes shit happened, child, you know? Oh, shit.

I got a go. What do you mean? You got to go and go, though? I got to go. baby. I got shit to do. Hello? Oh, crud. No, I ain't hearing a mess.

Hello? Oh, my what? Hello? Hello? Oh, my God. Oh, my God. It's going to you! Oh, my God, he's going to kill him! Oh, my God. Crescendo Williams in the house. Man.

that's a lack of caring right there man like get out get away from the 911 position man scary yeesh um all right let's move along i hope that never happens to any of you guys listening you get rejected by 911 my goodness uh crescendo williams um let's uh let's pick up on uh some more fun stuff. I've been playing for you guys, the last few podcasts, some clips of me doing morning radio. When I go to these towns and cities across the country, I get up early in the morning and I have to put on my funny and walk into these rooms and do the yuck yucks. And so here's another little sample of me early morning on Pittsburgh Radio with the great DJs who host

there, and here's a little 5-10-minute clip of some of the hijinks that we do. Hope you enjoy. I got into a little... Have you ever had road rage? Sure. The drivers here in Pittsburgh,

I know there's probably a lot listening right now, but I had a road rage fit yesterday, and I don't know if I should apologize to the community, but... What happened? Well, I was out with a hot chick. I met a hot chick. I'm at a hot chick here in town yeah and uh you know someone someone cut me off and you know you got a you got a you got a display at that point right yeah so we got up to a red light and i had to kind of show her that

i you know had the guns and my chest out and i get out of the car and i walk up to the car in front of me i'm just yelling in the window i'm like hey you and i like i went overboard this chick was hot so i'm really giving her trying to show your manliness yeah and i like i kicked the guy's door, I kicked the door, and I spit on the window, and I was like, giving them the finger, and I'm like, you want to get out of the car? Let's go, let's go. And I just, this went on, almost until

the light turned yellow, and then I went back to the car, and I said, that's what that's all about. And she goes, you know that's one of those Google driverless cars, right? Yeah, you ready to go to Arby's drive, too? So I tried, I tried.

I mean, it's tough to look manly. Yeah. You get the driverless cars. Yeah, and plus she had the tattoo, you know, the O'Reilly Auto Parts tattoo. On her fist, yeah. Classic, classic chick. Yeah, had stretch marks on the sides of her mouth. Oh, yeah.

We ordered a lot at the drive-set. Yeah, wow. Right. Yeah. Yeast. Robert Williams, he's at the improv all weekend long. Wow. Isis. Why do they have like so many names? It's like ISIS, ISIL, Icicle, chocolate icing, Daesh, Dash, Vanilla Bean, Jason Priestley. I mean, why? How many names does a tear group need? Brandon Walsh? Yeah, right. His real name and his show name. Yeah. It's so weird. Why? Why? I'm not sure.

And it's like Al-Qaeda was Al-Qaeda, Al-Qaeda, Al-Qaeda, Al-Qaeda. That would be very scary. Terrorist, callas? Hello, I'm here to blow you up. It's probably going to be the cutest explosion you've ever seen in your glass. It's going to be really cute. You can pet me before you expire. We expire.

Well, yeah. You know, they say that the koalas, they're ferocious, they're vicious. Oh, really? Yeah, yeah, they've got big claws. They're not nice. You think they're cuddly because they look, you know. Yeah, they look ferocious. It's like being beat up by a cloud.

You want to go, buddy? Let's go. Come on, step on up. I just can't be, imagine being fright, intimidated by a koala. Like, if I'm, you know, sulking through a dark alley at night and a koala steps out. Hey, man, give me involved. I'd just drop-kick that fuzzy little guy right back up into his eucalyptus tree. Get out of here, you drunk.

I'll see you next time behind this Denny's. It smells like a cop-drop-drop. Yeah. Apparently they're drunk all the time. They are? Apparently they get drunk off of the eucalyptus oils. Apparently they're hammered. No kidding.

So now they're violent. and drunk. Yeah. Wow. Violent drunk, koalas. Yeah. Well, then who was branding them

and branded them to be so cuddly and nice? Yeah. I like them because they got those little their hands. They got those little opposable thumbs. Sure. They got perfect breast grabbing hands.

Like they can squeeze with the main part and they've got the little thumbs to, you know, tickle the nipples. You've never had a, you've never had a koala, fondle your arioli? Oh, these are juicy. Oh, my goodness. They offered that at the Pittsburgh.

Oh, really? Right. Fondling. Yeah, I couldn't get in the... Cute, drunk fondling. Yeah, I couldn't get there in time. Wow. And then they punch you in the face as you leave.

Hope that felt good. Pow! They were fake. Harlan Williams, who's at the Imprope already long. Now I went up, Redis, Rwanda, which emergency? Oh, hello? Yeah, this Rwanda, what's your emergency? Oh, my God, my son, my 9-year-old son, I found him in the bottom of the pool.

He's not breathing. Oh, Christ, you know, I don't got time for this. Hello? Yeah, well, what, what are you? What do you want? Oh, my God. My son, he's a nine-year-old boy, the Daniel. I found him in the bottom of the swimming pool.

He's unresponsive. I don't think he's breathing. Oh, man. You know, I got us to get to the mall. You know, they got some stuff over at the dollar store today. They got sale on Shasta grape soda pop and they got, I think they got with some new paper plate. Hey, uh, hey, Rwanda, you know what's going on at the dollar store today? Hello, hello, my son is drowning.

My son is turning blue. Oh, God. you know i don't need to hear this i don't want to hear this what do you mean you don't want to hear this my son is at the bottom he was at the bottom of the pool i don't even know if he's breathing can you send an ambulance i don't got time to come no ambulance job i guess to get over to the dollar store and me rwanda we go ahead over to you won't catch a movie later rwanda i'm telling you my son needs medical assistance can you send an ambulance you know i don't need to hear this i don't want to hear this. This is

bullshit. This is what this is. Maybe you have send your little ball get some swimming lessons. What did you just say to me? I don't need this shit. You know what? You know, fuck you. Fuck you. Wait, what? What? Where'd you go? Where are you? Oh, my God. My boy, he's blue. He's blue. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. My boy. My dear boy. Hey, everybody. Who wants to have better sex? No. Yes? Yes. The answer is yes. You always want to have better sex. That's what you want it to be better, not worse. Trust me. And Adam and Eve is offering 50% off just about any item plus free shipping. And more than that, Adam and Eve wants to make your life easy. They offer discrete shipping as your privacy is a priority. Plus 100% free shipping on your entire order. Doesn't matter how much you spend or what you buy. All will be packaged and sent discreetly. For free and fast. Don't wait, Better Sex is just a click away. That's 50% off, one item, and free shipping.

Bring more pleasure and satisfaction into your bedroom. Just go to Adam and Eve.com and select any one item. It could be an adventurous new toy or anything you desire. Just enter the offer code Harlan to check out. That's Harland, H-A-R-L-A-N-D at Adam and Eve.com. This is an exclusive offer specific to this podcast. So be sure to use this code Harland so you get your discount and 100% free shipping. Code Harland.

Have fun. Don't throw your back out. Hello. Hello. Hey, Harland. You invited responses to your short story. And that's only the reason I'm calling. One of the rules of writing is, write what you know.

I wouldn't be able to write this. It honestly worries me that you are able to in case you happen to know wherever you speak. I hope that if so, it is cathartic. I would prefer that it is not so and purely fiction. So, God bless you, man. All right. Thank you, Brian. Thank you for that call.

It sounded like there was some concern in your voice, and, man, I appreciate that. Brian commented that, you know, you write what you know. And as you know, this Garden Hose time machine story is going kind of to a bit of a dark place where in our lead character, Brett, has to come to terms with his abusive father that beat on his mother. and I can tell by your phone call, Brian, that you think, ah, maybe Harland went through this, write what you know. Well, the good news is, no, I have never gone through anything even remotely close to this. My point of view with writing is the opposite, Brian.

My point of view of writing is write what you don't know. And the reason I say that is because for me, writing is an escape. And if I just wrote about what I knew, I'd probably be bored. So the fun of writing is creating these imaginary worlds that I've never ventured into that I don't know anything about that I have not experienced. All I can do is channel what it might be like through these characters that I create. And so to put your mind at ease, no, my father never raised a fist to my mother or anybody.

My father was a peace-loving, gentle, strong man, and I have not lived through this. I have not been privy or part of any type of domestic abuse. Thank God. And I'm sure there's people that are listening to the story that might have been. But when I write these stories, I really do kind of take on the pain and the joy and the anger and the hate and the love. of the characters that I have fabricated in my mind. And so don't worry, not to fret. This has not been something that has touched my life,

but I do enjoy writing it and imagining, you know, the drama and the intensity of this kind of world. And I understand when you write about topics as kind of heavy as this, it strikes accord with people. I want to read a letter from one of our pavement pounders before we get to the very final installment, the conclusion of the Garden Host Time Machine story. I want to read a wonderful email I got from one of the pavement pounders and share with you his thoughts about the short story. Here it is. So this was an email sent in from Chad Brooks is the gentleman's name or the pavement pounder's name.

As you know, I have old-style emails. They're actually on paper. Chad, thank you for writing in. Here's Chad's email. He says, hi, I was finally able to attend one of your live shows when you came through Salt Lake City about a month ago. I just wanted to say it was such a blast and that you really really brought the house down. My favorite bit was actually one of your improvised jokes in which you were an Irishman waking up in the wee hours of the morning to do some calculations. I guess she had

to be there. Yes, that was, that was a, I was talking to a woman about what time she got up in the morning, and she said she got up at like four in the morning, and she was an accountant. I said, what are you, a leprechaun accountant or something? It's like, oh, I've got to get up in the wee hours of the morning and crunch some numbers. I can't get on me calculators. The mists are rising up over the lakes and the dew drops be forming on the grass. And I just went off and on.

It was a lot of fun. So I'm glad you enjoyed that, Chad. Thank you, man. I'd actually forgotten about that. But let's continue with Chad's letter here, his email. Chad says, I also wanted to give you some feedback on your short story about the water hose time machine. I was recently standing in line waiting to board a plane whilst listening to the fourth installment of the story.

Before I can continue, I must provide some context. It had been over a week since I had seen my wife and four little kids. You see, they had taken a road trip without me to visit her family while I stayed and went to work. And then I had to leave for a four-day business trip just hours before they got home, so we just missed each other. All this to say that I was missing them all dearly at the moment of listening. to the fourth episode of the Waterhose Time Machine as I stood in line for my last connecting flight on my way home for my business trip. I was surprised to find myself getting misty-eyed as Brett,

the main character in my story, entered his kid's room in brackets for the first time ever after they had gone to bed so he could watch them sleep, watch their chest rise and fall as they breathe, and just appreciate their existence. I had to choke back. tears as his kids sprung awake and threw their arms around their daddy, telling them how much they loved him in their perfectly childlike way. And I longed for the moment, just hours from then, when I would finally arrive home and have the opportunity to do the same with my kids as they slumbered. It was a beautiful moment when I did get home and promptly visited each of them in turn in their beds to give them a soft kiss on the forehead. And I found myself half hoping they would pop awake and give me a big hug

and tell me how much they missed me. None of them did, but our reunion was just as sweet the next morning before I left for work. Anyways, the point of the story was to say thank you for sharing your short story and for the timely new outlook that it brought to my life. I've always known you as a great comedian, but this is kind of fun to see this new side of you and hear what an amazing writer you are as well. So yes, please keep it coming, whether it's part of the Harland Highway podcast or perhaps an entirely separate podcast

in which you read some of your stories. I don't care as long as you keep providing it to us pavement pounders. Chicken chalman, baby, Chad Brooks. Wow, Chad, that is a powerful email you wrote. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your feedback. And the fact that a certain part of the story resonated with you so strongly and as you said kind of brought you to the edge of tea, you know that's that's kind of the beauty of writing and that's that's the ultimate goal to know

that that words on a page can elicit such emotion and uh it it warms my heart that that through my story you got to in a sense reexamine or reassert that the love that you already have for your own kids and uh and that you could relate and that that when you got home from your trip you actually went in and sat with your kids and that perhaps my story my words spurred you on to do that it's very powerful it's it's it's a very wonderful and it really fills my heart with the sense of joy and satisfaction and and gratitude that you took the time to relay and communicate that precious moment with me and also to say thank you that you are appreciating the story and it's giving you something. That's just great. That's why I, you know,

this is a type of feedback that I just love to hear and this is kind of why I wanted to put this story out here to see if it touched people, to see if it resonated, to see if people can relate to it. And I'm sure there's other people out there that have some strong visceral reactions to it. There might be some that like it as much as you. There might be people that hate it and have shut it off. I'm like, don't want to hear it. But that's all part of the mix of bringing this type of content to you. So, Chad, to you and your beautiful family and your wonderful, beautiful kids, I wish you all the best and a continued strong bond with you and your family. And thank you again so much for such a wonderful, wonderful

well-thought-out and wonderfully communicated email to me. And without further ado, I think the best thing to do is just to go from Chad's email straight into the final installment of the Garden Host Time Machine short story that I wrote that was spawned by a segment I did on the Harland Highway, episode 500. So, so far, it's been a pretty emotional ride for our main character, Brett, who would not talk to his father ever since he caught his father in the act, physically abusing his mother. And now, Chad, or now Brett is in the hospital during one of his garden hose flashbacks,

and he's just about to enter the room of his dying father and confront him on all the things that seem to go wrong. I hope you enjoy this final installment. The conclusion right now of the Garden Hose Time Machine. The door swung wider, Brett instantly saw that there was no one else in the room, just the frail shape of a human body tucked under crisp white hospital-issue sheets. Brett's father's brown hair seemed to be the only thing that contrasted on the white bed. His half-paralyzed head lay up on the pillow.

As Brett stepped closer, his father seemed almost unrecognizable, his frail body rigid and weak. Brett took a deep swallow, his mind unprepared for seeing his once flamboyant father so deteriorated. For a brief second he almost forgot about all the hatred he had built up for him. For a brief second he wanted to help him, comfort him, make him better again. But as he rounded the bed and got his first look at his father's face, all those sentimental feelings stopped. They were replaced by feelings of utter shock, possible. horror. Brett had known his father had suffered a stroke that night. His sister had told him that as Brett had run from the house, their father laid helpless, seizuring on the floor. Maybe that is where the

feelings of animosity from his sister had been born. Brett had just turned and walked away in his father's time of need. And now, before him, for the first time, Brett could see firsthand the effects of the stroke. Brett's father's face seemed sunken in and hollow. His cheeks gaunt. His eyes like two empty tunnels that led back through the portals of time. A wave of sadness washed over, Brett, the likes of which he had never before felt. His father, like a wounded animal, unable to pick itself up off the ground and take another step to survive. Out of defiance, Brett held back any tears. He would not give him. his father the satisfaction of expressing any emotion. His father didn't deserve it. Norm, on the other hand,

was the exact opposite. Almost the instant he saw his son, his eyes began to water, his body trembling. This was a monumental moment for Norm. He had spent many, many years nursing his broken heart. Broken from knowing he had destroyed his family. Broken from knowing he would never see his boy again, but now, miraculously, he was here. Norm, mustering all his strength, reached out to Brett, his nimble fingers touching his hand. Brett instantly pulled away, offended that his father thought he had any right to make contact with him. This was enough to bring the tears out of Norm's eyes. He knew he had done so much damage. He knew he had lost his son. Please, Please, Breddie, he said in a gravely voice that was unfamiliar to Brett.

I need to touch you, son. Norm's speech was uneven and slow. The stroke had slightly paralyzed the right side of his face, impeding his speech. The clarity his voice once had, now slurred. Touch me? Brett snapped. No, I don't think so. Brett snapped his hand away with the reflexes of a hockey goalie.

He had no desire to connect with his father in this way. As if Norm's face could register any more pain, it just did. His son's disdain was palatable. Norm squeezed his eyes shut and rocked his head side to side. His voice mumbling through his tears. Oh, oh, Breddy, what did I do, Breddy? What did I do? Rett stood back, staring at his crumpled father, almost with disgust.

He could heart. hardly believe that his father, the one who beat his mother to a pulp, was laying there, feeling sorry for himself. Almost out of agitation, Brett spoke up. How did you know I was in the hallway? Norm's eyes rolled open, a slight look of hope as he embraced the notion that his son was actually talking to him. Oh, I could feel you, Brettie. I could always feel you, my son. Brett stared down at Norm incredulously, not expecting such warm emotion to come out of him. I prayed. I prayed for many years you would come, my boy. Many years. Brett took another step away from the bed. Despite the uneven speech, there was comfort and love in his father's voice.

Brett wasn't sure how to take it. It had been so long since he had felt his father's feelings. I know I did some bad things, Breddy. I know why you went away, angry, and mad. I know. Suddenly, Brett felt anger overtake anything else he was feeling. Oh, really? You did some bad things? You punched the fucking shit out of my mother.

That bad thing? Is that what you're talking about? Norm turned his head away from Brett's outburst. His loud words were like a punch to his own face. Who the fuck do you think you are? Your own wife! Mum was the sweetest woman to ever walk the fucking earth, and Brett had to turn away.

He couldn't look at his father for a moment. Norm's lips began chattering, opening and closing in rabbit succession. His whole being filling up with agony. I don't know why I did it, son. I have no answer. I only hit her twice. Only?

Brett snapped as he spun around to face his father again. Norm was crying now, his old salty tears creeping down his dehydrated face. If I hit her twice, then it's the same. I hit her ten million times. She didn't deserve it. Brett's anger was mounting.

How can you say that? I mean, that's it? You piece of shit. How could you do it? Brett's hands curled up into fists. He was trying to channel his emotions. He didn't want to yell at his old man, but it was inevitable. Brettie, please, Norm pleaded.

Please what? Brett snapped. You call me to your deathbed, hoping you can wash the slate clean? Huh? Make it all fine again? Fuck you, Norm. Fuck you! Norm let out a long, painful moan that synchronized with his tears.

I'm sorry. son, I'm so sorry, Norm wailed. Brett had never heard such torture come out of another human being before. The anguish in his father's voice was so authentic that it moved through Brett like a ghost passing through him. Suddenly, Brett felt sad. He felt lost. His father's pleads were thrusting multiple emotions at Brett all at the same time.

Suddenly, Brett didn't know how to feel. Why? Why'd you do it? The question rolled out of bread almost involuntarily. Norm sniffled and swallowed some of the tears that had slid into the paralyzed side of his mouth. He stared wild-eyed around the room, knowing that he needed to offer his son the right answer.

Offer him the answer that would make him love him again. But after a long pause, he let out a defeated sigh. The new Bimo, V.I. Porter MasterCard, is your ticket to more. More perks, more points, more flights, more of all the things you want in a travel rewards card, and then some. Get your ticket to more with the new BMO ViPorter MasterCard and get up to $2,400 in value in your first 13 months. Terms and conditions apply. Visit BMO.com slash ViPorter to learn more. I don't know, son.

I have no answer or excuses. I'm just a man that carried the weight of his world on his shoulders. Just tried to step through life the best way I could. And then something came out of me that I didn't even know I had inside the ability to hurt to punish the one I swore to protect.

I let the one. world. I let my life take me to a dark place. A place I didn't see coming. Brett stood there silently and listened. He realized he probably needed to hear this just as much as his father needed to say it. The things that happened to you in life, you don't see him coming, Brettie. You think you're prepared for everything. You think you can plan it all out. and then all of a sudden one night a part of you appears that you never planned for something inside of you shows up that you didn't even know you had norm sobbed openly and loudly brett didn't try to stop him after a moment of heavy tears norm continued the nights i hit your mother's son i broke her i broke her beautiful spirit. She never got it back. Brett looked up and saw the emptiness in his

father's eyes. They revealed so much as if he had opened up a chest overflowing with pain, hurt, and suffering. Brett knew his father had paid for what he had done. He knew his father's pain was deep and real. I broke your mother's son. But me, I died. Norm sealed his eyes tightly and turned his head away from Brett. His own cloud of shame surrounded him like a plague. Brett stood there numb, unsure of even moving. For what seemed in eternity, the two, father and son,

silently shared the same intimate yet uncomfortable space. Brett was processing everything that was spinning in his head. He continued to maintain his distance from his ailing father. Why am I here? Brett said softly at last. Norm slowly turned his head back to Brett. He stared at him, absorbed him as much as he could. Norm knew his time was limited. He garnered all his strength and slowly lifted his arm up in the air.

He reached towards his one and only side. Brett looked up, moved by his father's efforts. Clearly it was not physically easy. Norm slightly wiggled his fingers, no words coming from his mouth, just a low, pitiful gurgle from somewhere in his windpipe. Brett stared with contempt. He had so much hatred built up inside. He wanted to not feel any sympathy or remorse for his bastard father. But Norm's long, bony fingers, grab grasping for him, like a drowning person reaching for a lifeline. Brett felt his coat of armor crack. He felt a dull pain growing in his heart.

His father's eyes, full of pleading and pain. He needed to be touched. He needed his son. Slowly the pain became too much for Brett. Memories of the good times with his father began populating his mind. For the briefest of moments he could see past the monster that lay before. him. He somehow saw past the imprinted version of Norm's fist, crushing his mother's cheek. Brett saw a man who had suffered for his deeds, who, as he had stated, died inside for his actions.

Norm's outstretched arms seemed to have a magnetic pull all its own. Brett was slowly drawn toward it. With each closing inch, Brett able to see a sparkle of hope in his father's eyes. a ray of light that had been dimmed down to blackness for so very, very long. As Brett's thigh pressed against the side of the bed, Norm's hand snatched Brett's forearm. His firm grip surprised Brett. It was strong and forceful, a grip determined to never let go. Norm's crooked, distorted face managed to create some kind of joyous smile. He could feel his son's youthful skin, feel his energy, his life force. Brett didn't know what to do. He found his eyes drifting towards his father's until

at last they connected. Their stare was instant and intense. It had all the strength of the planets being held in their place by the universe's gravity. They were locked in, neither of them able to shift their gaze. Brett was overcome with anger, fear, love, and hate all at the same time. Norm recognized this. His eyes stared back at his wounded child. They conveyed never-ending love and understanding, void of judgment or spite. Norm's stare bore into Brett's soul like a searchlight through the midnight sky. It honed in on his heart.

With all his mental energy, Norm gave up every last molecule of love that his heart could manufacture. He channeled it to his son so that he could know, despite all his misgivings his love was pure and without boundary brett could feel norm's love penetrating his soul causing his insides to light up with golden warmth that could only come from a parent to a child brett's eyes began to fill with soft salty tears his hands slowly rising up to where his father was grasping his arm soon enough their hands were together holding, feeling, grasping on to whatever chance they had left to show affection for one another. I love you, my son, my little brettie. Norm choked as the words spilled out of him.

Brett could feel the pools of water and his lower eyelids finally spill over and form tears. They dropped from his eyes like capsules of liquid pain. each tear drop representing a moment of the torment he had bottled up inside all these years. The tears dropped on the sheets, leaving a wet spot that grew wider and wider. He squeezed his father's hand tightly. I can't forgive you, Dad, Brett said almost in a whisper. Norm squeezed Brett's hand. I know, son, you're not here so that you can see me,

dying. Brett looked up, somewhat surprised by this unselfish revelation. You're here so that I can see that you can go on living. Brett stopped breathing for a moment. He hadn't expected such words. Somehow he thought he was brought here, expected to give his father forgiveness. But it was the exact opposite. He realized in that moment that he was brought here so that he could be free. to let go of all the pain, to get back to living and blessing his wife and children with every ounce of his love. Brett tried to absorb all that was happening in this miraculous moment, but it was like trying to catch a hundred balloons that had broken loose

and were dancing across the sky. And before he could make any semblance of what he was feeling, he suddenly felt his father's grip on his hand squeezed tighter than it had so far. It actually hurts slightly. Brett looked down at his father and saw a certain resolution in his eyes, a contentment that wasn't there before. He blinked slowly three or four times and in a wisp of a voice, he said, I love you, my boy. I'll love you for all time, Brettie. And then his grip went limp. All the strength was gone. Norm was dead.

Brett felt his heart curl up inside. The pain was only outdone by the strange joy he felt in his heart at the same time. At last, it was over. It was done. He had come face to face with his dad. When Sherry awoke in the chair, she instantly looked over to see if Brett was okay. To her satisfaction, she saw that he was sleeping peacefully in his bed. This made her happy, happier than the stiffness that was riddling her body. Her contortions in the chair in which she slept were nothing short of torturous. She had no idea how long she had been sleeping. As she brought her hand up to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she was startled to feel something gripped in her fingers. She came just short of rubbing a foreign object right in her face. As she held it up before her eyes, a flood of love and joy washed over her entire being. It was a single white rose, pure and fragrant and beyond beautiful.

Twelve months later, the following summer, Brett sat on his back porch with Sherry, Tommy, and a few other friends. Brett sat close by Sherry's side, holding her hand, loving her. Tommy was relaxed and laughing. Clearly any animosity from the hose incident had faded away. Reconnected their friendship, bled. And they've become close once again. So, we ever going to go on that baseball tour through the American League East stadiums, or what?

Tommy said loudly so that it passed by Sherry as well. Brett glanced at Sherry and said in a mock pouty voice, I don't know if I can bear to be away from Sherry that long, Tommy. Oh, Jesus. Pour some more syrup on it, why don't you? Tommy rolled his eyes and everyone laughed. come on let's go in and eat we can talk about it over dinner sherry smiled and played along and a few bottles of white wine right share tommy joked everyone laughed and rose from their deck chairs as they all headed inside through the sliding glass door brett noticed the side gate hanging open at the far end of the backyard be right in brett assured the group as he moved in the other direction leaving the deck he stepped down onto the lawn and

walked to the gate. Like he'd done a million times before, he pulled it shut and secured it. On his walk back towards the house, something caught his eye, something that he had almost purposefully not thought about for a long time. It was the garden hose, hanging on the wall by the shrubs. Brett stopped. He stared at it. He wondered if it was mystically beckoning him, or if his own mind was just curious after all this time. Seeing that the coast was clear, he decided to walk over to the tap and turn it on. Brett stared at the water, pouring out at the tip. He felt a little nervous, intimidated to take a drink.

A lot had happened since last year. He was 30 pounds lighter. He was friends with Tommy again. He and Sherry were like high school sweethearts again. It was like the love that was always there was finally allowed to come out from behind the clouds and shine. Brett's job was good. He wasn't drinking anymore. He went to the gym three times a week. In essence, he was finally happy. Maybe he better just leave well enough alone. Going back to the hose could be a huge mistake. Open the door to things maybe he didn't want to see. But the sheer nature of the

incredible journey, a journey that gave him closure and helped him rekindle his love, his life. Somehow he just had to see if there was more. Maybe it was greedy, maybe even dangerous, but he couldn't help himself. Slowly, he pulled the hose to his mouth, the cool water sliding down his throat as he drank. He waited and wondered what sort of manifestation would take place. After a few moments, when nothing seemed to be happening,

just when Brett was about to give up, a football, just like the one he played with as a kid, rolled to a stop at his feet. He stared down at it as water splashed across the tightly pulled pink skin. You want to play catch? A voice came from across the lawn. Brett dropped the hose and picked up the ball. It felt good in his fingers. He stood and looked at the other side of the grass.

A figure stood there, silhouetted against the sun. Brett squinted. he couldn't see who it was who who's there he called out almost frightened after a brief silence a familiar voice answered back come on dad quit messing around throw the ball will you brett smiled as he heard his son's voice nathan was a foot taller than last year and well on his way to becoming a man just a few tosses son your mother wants us in for dinner okay dad nathan acquiesced brett smiled and cocked his arm back. Sherry watched from the kitchen window and blew him a kiss. Brett fired the ball high into the sky. It arced up towards the radiant sun and hung in the air for a moment before landing perfectly in his son's arms. Perfect toss, Dad! Brett smiled. He was happy. The end. Whoa. There it is, gang that is the end that is the final portion of my very long short story i thought it would be 20 pages

it came out to about 70 and uh i hope you enjoyed it you know it was as i said it was this whole story was spawned by a little comedic segment i did in episode 50 of episode 500 of this podcast where I talked about picking up a garden hose and drinking out of it and flashing back in my mind to moments when I was a kid. And a lot of you guys, you pavement powders, wrote in and called in and said, you experienced similar thoughts and feelings. And I thought, you know, there's something deeper here. There's something more.

I'm going to write a short story. And that was it. So, as I said, love to get your feedback. Let me know if you want me to do more. if you'd like to hear more stories and I think it would be fun but you know I certainly don't want to put them out there

if some of you are like oh God no no more it's too much then I need to hear that but if some of you are like yes yes yes oh I'd love to hear some O'Holland I would love it then I need to hear that too so let me know and there it is

a labor of love let's get to someone now announcements here. Please and thank you. I want to make an announcement. My new animated series, Skylanders, the Skylanders, based on one of the most popular video games in the world. It premieres on Netflix on Friday, October 28th. You can binge watch the whole season, all 13 episodes. It's an animated cartoon. Sit down with your kids, with your friends, your family. It looks amazing. The scripts are funny. It's got Susan Sarandon's in it.

I'm in it. Norm McDonald's in it. All kinds of Ashley Tisdale. I mean, all kinds of people are in this doing voices in this cartoon. I do one of the main characters, a mole, a lovable little mole with glasses. His name's Hugo. And he kind of talks like this.

To be honest, I kind of based his voice. voice off of Aunt Ruthie a little bit. He's kind of a little nebish and he's like, oh my goodness, he's kind of like Woody Allen meets Aunt Ruthie, meets Edith Bunker. So I hope you get a chance to tune in and watch The Skylanders on Netflix, Friday, October 28th. Also, please check out my November comedy schedule. I'll be in Denver, Denver, Colorado at the Comedy Works. 11th and 12th, Friday and Saturday.

Then the following week, San Diego, California, at the American Comedy Co, down in San Diego. Great Club. That's November 17th to the 20th. And then Thanksgiving weekend, boys and girls. Yes, the Irvine Improv, the Irvine Improv, which is in Orange County, California, south of Los Angeles. It's going to in between San Diego.

go in Los Angeles. So check me out there. The Irvine Improv. All these comedy dates are available on my website, harlandwilms.com. Click on the stand-up tour link. You can order your tickets right online at my website. Reserve your tickets. Now they go fast.

Also, while you're there, check out the store, the Harland Highway, Harlem's merchandise store. We will send you some fun merch. Also, don't forget, you can write to me at harlornwilliams.com. If you have any letters or comments regarding the podcast, hit the contact link. Or if you want a phone and leave me a message, 323739-4330, 3-2-739-43-3-3-3. Don't forget to get our app for your phone, the Harland Highway app. It's awesome.

It's free. Just go to your app store, type in the Harland Highway, and Boom. Download it for free and you can listen to the podcast wherever you may be on your cell phone. It is awesome. Become a premium member for $20 a year. Get all kinds of great special content. And that's it, man. I'm going to wrap it up right here right now. Hope you had a good time. Until next time, chicken, chowman, baby. Oh, Christ. You know, I don't got time for this. Hello? Thank you.