Tag Archives: clamps

THROW THE BUM OUT

Mark T Wayne 1cTby John Jonelis

Mark T Wayne hurls his cigar to the barroom floor and grinds it under his heel. “Lonagan, you’re a consummate ass!”

“Shuttup ‘n’ have anudder whiskey.”

“You sir are heavily inebriated.” Wayne’s voice resonates above the noise of the crowded bar.  “I know better than to get tight oftener than once in three months.” He lifts his chin and peers down his nose at Loop Lonagan. “It sets a man back in the esteem of people whose opinions are worth having.”

“So whaddayuh think I should do?” His dog, Clamps, squirms in his arms and kicks wildly as Loop wrestles to gain a better hold on the 85 pound bull terrier.  He finally locks an arm around the animal’s thick neck.  Clamps immediately relaxes, bone in mouth. “Look Wayne—yer da one said I oughta take da guy in.  So you tell me how t’ get ‘im out.”

“Hmm…yes, I see your point. Options are a bit scarce at such times.  Your editor shows up at the door leaning on two canes, a bit unsteady on two new metal knees.  Never refuse to do a kindness, unless the act will work great injury to yourself—especially when it’s a close friend and your employer.” Wayne pauses a moment and inspects Lonagan more closely.  “But five months have elapsed since that day, and now I find myself sharing this fine bar with a sloppy drunk—a man utterly beyond reason or decorum, hugging a dangerous beast to his body like a rag doll.”

Loop plays with his dog’s ears.  “The police don’t want poor Clamps tied at da curb again.  Dey say he might eat a pedestrian.”

Therapy Dog

Therapy Dog

“Don’t blow smoke rings, Lonogan! There is only one course of action left to you! Claim back your domicile!  Throw the execrable bum out!”

“Throw out Jonelis?”

“That, sir, is precisely what I say.”

Loop Lonagan slowly wags his head. “He’ll throw me outa da magazine. Then where am I?  Gone, like a puff o’ smoke.”

“Where is your spine, sir? Can it be that abusive over-exposure to bitter hops has eroded it in total?  Look at you, stroking that hideous beast as if it were some lovely young woman.  Is that the proper posture for a grown man while seriously drinking?  Get ahold of yourself!  I say put the moocher out on the street!”

“Don’t ya think I tried? Sheesh, he moves right in with dat new therapy business.  Pavlovian PT he calls it.  Gals right outa some Hollywood movie swarmin’ all over da joint.  I can’t get no peace er sleep.  He fills my penthouse with exercise machines.  And busy? If he ain’t liftin’ weights, he’s gettin’ a Swedish massage or an ice pack or he’s loopy on pain killers, and then he’s asleep er somepin. Can’t hardly talk t’ da guy. When I do, I dunno what t’ say.”  Loop squeezes his eyes closed a moment.  “Today dis crew shows up t’ move da resta my furniture out da door—where to, I dunno.  More weight machines is comin’ in!  Yeah, Jonelis finally graduates therapy.  It’s strength trainin’ from now on!  So insteada my nice penthouse condo, I got a swank health club.”  Loop swallows a shot of scotch and immediately chases it with a slug of beer.  The pungent amber liquid dribbles down his jaw.

Mark T Wayne 1d Bold

Mark T Wayne

Wayne scowls at him. “You, sir, are mixing good medicine with poison. Give an Irishman lager for a month and he’s a dead man. An Irishman is lined with copper, and beer corrodes it. But whiskey polishes the copper and is the saving of him.  You’ll do well without that swill.”

“Dat’s da best idea you come up with since I knowed you. No wonder my belly’s naggin’ at me.  Bartender!”  Lonagan shifts his dog so it can lap beer from his mug.  Clamps knocks it over and yellow suds run down the counter.  The dog leaps onto the bar and voraciously polishes the wet varnished surface with a wide tongue.

Loop lifts the animal from the bar and hugs it close.  “Bartender! Gimme anudder scotch.  Make it a triple.  No more Blatz fer me!”

A muscular kid shows up with a towel and mops up the smelly mess while glaring at Loop under thick black eyebrows. He talks in a low voice with clenched teeth: “What’s with the dog?”

Loop makes an indignant expression. “It’s a therapy animal. You got a problem with that?” 

A long scar on the kid’s cheek flames red. “Hold down the noise, mister, or you and and your dog and the guy with the white suit are outa here. Y’ follah?

“Big talk—yadda yadda yadda.  Y’ gonna back it up?”

The bartender abruptly moves down the bar and serves another customer while Loop raises the fresh tumbler of whiskey.

Wayne’s finger idly traces the rim of his empty glass.  “Certainly the Drone’s Club is near at hand.  I believe they offer a gymnasium.  You might mention the possibility.”

“Yeah, yeah, but dey won’t let ‘im bring in his Pavlovian PT team. Same with East Bank, Union League, ‘n’ all da udders.  He’s too cheap t’ buy all them gals memberships.”

Both men stare into space. This goes on for a good two minutes as the noise of the crowd swells around them.

“Ah! A thought occurs to me…” Mark T Wayne draws himself erect, yanks his white lapels, and takes a step as if lecturing an audience, “Your domestic problem is transparently simple. Argue with the man!  Pick a fight!”

“How’s a guy gonna do that? Jonelis treats ever’body so nice—so polite.  No a harsh words, No foul language.  No nothin’”

“Shout him down! You need not be logical or coherent, nor do you require provocation.  Drown him in curses at high volume!  If that brings no response, I happen to know that you are skilled in the fine art of fisticuffs.  Pummel the man with blows!  Violence, sir!  That’s the ticket!  Beat him senseless!”

“C’mon Wayne, he’s just outa surgery ‘n’ all…”

“That man is gaining health by the day as you lose yours!”

Loop Lonagan goes suddenly quiet and rubs his chin with a blunt fingertip. He drops Clamps to the floor and the dog immediately strains the limit of a heavy leather lead, lashed to the stanchion of the barstool.  People immediately abandon the area adjacent to Lonagan and Wayne.  The dog pants with teeth fully exposed, tongue lolling outhis way of smiling but people shrink back, forming a big empty circle.

After a minute, Loop pulls out a cell phone.  “Hey Nick? It’s me.  Remember our talk?  Well, what about it?”  Loop rolls his eyes as he listens.  “Yeah…yeah. Okay! Done!”  He pockets the phone and grins a satisfied grin. “I’m takin’ yer advice.  If Jonelis fires me, you’ll find me right here.”  He moves his arm in a sweeping gesture.  “Dis whole place is mine now.”  

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Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2016 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Filed under angel, angel capital, angel investor, Characters, Chicago Ventures, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, loop lonagan, Mark T Wayne, vc, venture capital

PAVLOVIAN PT

Knee TLoop Lonagan

Ever’body’s gettin’ new knees, new hips, and what not. It’s an epidemic of elective surgery. And I’m talkin’ big money. An investor definitely wants in on a trend like this, but what’s da best play?

Take Jonelis, my good friend and boss. Da guy up ‘n’ gets two brand new knees—AT DA SAME TIME! Seems crazy, don’t it? What’s he s’posed to use fer legs?

So right away I gotta play bigshot. I invite John to my penthouse fer da whole rest ‘n’ recovery thing. Yeah, you guessed it—I wanna play Da Good Samaritan over Christmas. I figure they’s gonna carry him in on a stretcher ‘n’ I’ll be da hero that arranges fer all sorts o’ people t’ help out while he’s bedridden. Shows how much I know.

Two 2 Knees

Sometimes a guy gets faced with his own ignorance. Know what I mean? After two days, Jonelis checks outa da hospital and walks right into my place under his own steam. He’s accepting my offer. He’s stickin’ here fer da whole six weeks! My penthouse is now his personal spa!

I put ‘im in the biggest guest room—the one with a view o’ Da Lake AND da Chicago skyline. Then my dog Clamps deserts me and moves in with him.

IMG_7172 e

Next thing you know, tradesmen start showin’ up, gettin’ in da way o’ my Christmas decorating crew.

  • A plumber replaces da toilet with a throne near as tall as a barstool.
  • Movers install an electric reclining bed that tilts his legs 30 degrees above horizontal.
  • A carpenter shows up and installs cushioned tables, parallel bars, stairs that go nowhere, da works. Sure my penthouse is real big, but now I got a physical therapy facility insteada my dance floor. And 300 guests is coming.
  • Then six huge exercise machines show up ‘n’ lots o’ furniture gets shoved back t’ make room.
  • Then startlingly beautiful women show up unannounced.

One ‘o deeze ladies comes with da single-minded mission of assuring John’s wellbeing. She does all da stuff a nurse does—temperature, blood pressure, blood tests. She inspects his incisions. Does she shrink back in horror? No! “These are healing beautifully!” she exclaims with obvious ‘n’ genuine delight. They look like big sloppy wounds t’ me, but she’s da expert. And dis is da best dressed nurse I ever seen. No clunky white shoes. Shows up here in a real short skirt ‘n’ blouse cut way too low. I don’t think she wears underwear. I ask her on da sly if that’s da way all nurses dress nowadays. She blushes ‘n’ says, “It’s for the encouragement of the patient.” Hey, I feel encouraged, but she skips outa da door before I can take action.

And all da time, da purest narcotics is close at hand, should the whim lead to such pleasures. Oodles ‘n’ oodles of ‘em. And they’s all legal! And if you don’t like that, they got Acapulco Gold.

Blue Pills 2sw - JAJ

Did I mention da other woman? This one’s a long-legged exotic Asian gal, ready fer action in skintight leotards—a different color ‘n’ pattern every day. She’s PT—physical therapy. And she exercises with him—IN BED!

I ask her, “Why all dat equipment on da dance floor if you do yer work in bed?”

Her reply is matter of fact: “He’s still in the healing phase. The training phase comes later.”

Okay, but couldn’t they wait till he’s ready t’ set up all that equipment? Da way I see it, I’m stuck without a dance floor fer da big Christmas bash.

I peek in ‘n’ watch part o’ da session. Oh, the amazing positions she bends his legs! “Does this hurt?” she coos. Then she gushes shamelessly over the smallest physical accomplishments. I gotta admit, there’s no room fer a guy t’ indulge in self-pity under such circumstances, ‘n’ dat’s what makes her technique so effective. When this gal gets done, not only is a John’s body worked though da paces, but he’s under da delusion he’s Superman. Is there any bigger boost to da male ego than praise from a gorgeous, sexy, and intelligent female?

She covers his knees in ice, and is gone.

So I phone his wife, but she knows all about it. She says:

  • “These are professionals. What’s the harm in it?”
  • “It keeps him from slacking off on his PT.”
  • “It gets him out of the house and out of my hair.”
  • “What business is it o’ yours anyway, Loop Lonagan?”

Yeah, she tells me off real good. Sheesh! I feel like a heel.

DSC04929e500

I gotta ask myself, where did John find this combination outpatient therapy and modeling agency? I mean, these gals is likely t’ raise da spirits o’ any normal guy. I can sure see how they do a lot fer da morale of a patient just outa major surgery. I look in on John after she leaves. His hand trails down and scratches Clamps’ behind da ears. And all da time his eyes is gently closed, a big dumb grin on his kisser.

Both o’ these gals wear a cute heart-shaped logo. They’s from a new startup company called Pavlovian PT and they plan to take physical therapy to new levels. I’m definitely taking da plunge on dis one. Maybe even get a joint replaced in da cause o’ research.

A half hour later, a buxom Swedish blond wrapped in a big white towel with da same logo peeks outa da bathroom door. Time fer a hot shower ‘n’ Swedish massage! I recognize Hilda from last year’s Christmas party. Wish I had a peek at what goes on in dat big bathroom.

Later, over coffee, I learn she’s da CEO o’ this startup ‘n’ John himself set her up in business before he did the operation. I gotta admit, sometimes Jonelis knows what he’s doin’.

So go ahead—go out and have that operation. Then call Pavlovian PT. What’s stoppin’ you? Insurance pays for it all. Seems t’ me, with these kinda benefits, It’s gonna get real hard to keep ‘em out of the operating rooms.

And an old tune plays in da back o’ my head:

♪♪ How ya gonna keep ‘em down on the farm?

Now that they seen Broad—waaaaaaay! ♪♪

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read KILLER SHILLER

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Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2015 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Filed under angel, angel capital, angel investor, big money, Characters, Chicago Ventures, Christmas, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, investor, loop lonagan, Man's Favorite Sport, vc, venture capital