About the Books

Fantastic Florida Fun

When Mark and Melissa went to bed that night, Mark tried to think of a way to ease any misgivings she might have developed by any incestuous relationship she had probably had with her father. They lay naked on their sides under the covers. She lay in front with him behind her, his arm around her as he rubbed her breasts with his hand. He thought of something to say to make her feel blissful so he might accomplish his mission of getting her to talk about whether her father ever molested her as a child or more recently.

He put his hand on her hip and said, “Mark Matthew Mitchell and Melissa May Monroe! MMM. Reminds me of Marilyn Monroe. Ever heard her called MM, honey?”

She put her hand on top of his still on her waist and replied, “Yes I have, and she has my last name too.” She giggled, “I wonder if we’re related.”

They rested a while, then Mark continued his conversation, “Melissa, I have a question. You can tell me to go to hell if you want to, and I won’t ask it anymore, but … has Allan ever approached you sexually?”

She started to speak; a high-pitched sound came out. But she lost her thoughts to the confusion. She didn’t consciously remember the encounters anymore because it had been several months since the last time it had happened. After she lay there for a few more seconds, she tried again, “Mark, I’m not sure. I have this thing I do that I don’t think about. I just don’t know. I’m not sure.”

That led him that closer to an answer but was not a yes or no as he had expected. At least he thought she was probably being honest. He reached toward her body and felt her breasts with his hand. He knew he couldn’t get any more answers that night, so he initiated the usual, asking if she wanted to make love by saying, “Want to do it?” She rolled over on her back and spread her legs. They enticed each other with sexual caressing and made gentle love to each other.

In the morning when he arose, she had his coffee and breakfast ready as usual. She had her own ready too but had waited for him. As they sat at the kitchen table, she said, “Mark, you know that question you asked me last night? About my father? Well I think …”

She paused and didn’t say anything more for a few seconds.

He urged, “Yes, Melissa, go on.”

She replied, “I don’t remember anymore. I had something on my mind, now it’s gone. I can’t remember. That’s the way it always is. Or always was. I think I remembered for a second. Now I don’t remember, can’t remember.”

He consoled her, “It’s alright Melissa. It’s alright.”

“I tried, but I just can’t remember.”

“It’s alright Melissa, when you’re ready you’ll remember. I know it’s hard.” He put his arm on her back and gently rubbed it with his hand.

He thought she must have some kind of mental block but could remember anytime. He would be there when she was ready, and he would take into stride anything that it entailed. He thought that he truly loved Melissa. He wanted to persuade her to remember and share with him what had occurred to help her get over it once and for all. He knew she had been close that morning; that the truth had lingered just under the surface of her memory. He just had to help her bring it upwards and in so doing let it breach the surface and get out in the open. Then she could face it and get on with living her life.

Crime and Drugs on Trip City Street

Now in this crime syndicate on Trip City Street of New York, New York, there was an upper silent circle of men who were bosses and who served those who made the money they got a cut from. They were made men.

In this silent circle, guy A knew guy B and guy C knew guy B but guy A didn’t know who guy C was nor did guy C didn’t know who guy A was. Guy B knew both who guy A and guy C were and everything coming or going from one to the other up to his boss, who neither guy A nor guy C knew either. The silent circle then kept all protected as long as guy B never talked. In this crime ring the guy B never did.

In 2018 there was a party for all of the upper silent circle on Trip City Street and Budweiser was the “in” drink at this party-down-big-time party-down-place from a long-timeway- ago-back past. Along with whiskey and Coke to mix it with and pot, acid, cocaine, crack, what have you in the doings of the people of the party there on Trip City Street.

It was the host’s stuff from and where the one getting and giving the stuff is silent in the inner circle and gets his stuff from out of town or more usually from out of the country there on Trip City Street, New York, New York, USA, Planet Earth, in the solar system where all of that space is. The guests kept thinking about the effects of the drugs as the leader of the group who lived in the rich neighborhood was speaking, keeping the audience spellbound in their thoughts about the glorious subject of crime and drugs.

The host, Craig, who was the rich upper man of this crime syndicate was saying, “We all jumped off the back of the boat into the water off the dock and swam to the dock on the other side of the harbor and climbed up on it and took off running before any of the Feds could catch up to us. They fired guns, and believe it or not, on top of that entertainment center where that hole is in that hat is where the bullet that almost got me! No shit! They got the boat and the shit but we managed to escape and I almost bought it.”

Girls cooed and men stood in awe and said, “Wow!” and another said, “No shit?” and yet others simply stated awe in their breath.

The bravest one there, Jack, the drug runner, the one who worked for the man who owned the house and the one who did all of the dirty work, found it amusing that all of the man’s adventures were not nearly as close to being as dangerous as the life he had led. It was a remarkable life he had led to get this together and piece by piece he knew he had many times the amount of lore and guts, life to death closer than anything Craig had ever or would ever have done. He knew it would take a long time to get it all together, what he had done, but he also knew it could come apart at any second in time.

The house was an expensive huge mansion, Craig’s home away from home of his penthouse apartment, and even for the rich man Craig, it was expensively decorated with the souvenirs from various places he’d been to see about the things pertaining to crime of other nature than setting up a deal, before he did this softer, easier, less dirty work of smuggling drugs into the country. He used to smuggle other things from foreign countries overseas, stolen stuff, foreign guns, diamonds, jewelry, paintings, other art works, and now drugs instead. It brought more money to smuggle the drugs instead of all of the latter, which are less risky. The drugs are more risky but paid well if you dealt in large enough amounts of business and used to have and still had other businesses, stolen cars, chop shops, prostitution, and drug sales in and around Trip City Street.

Where North Meets South and East Meets West

My autobiography Where North Meets South and East Meets West by Timothy Louis Baker describes my childhood, places we visited, my relatives, Canada fishing trips, California, sites we saw in the many various locations we vacationed. It mentions me starting to work on the family farm at a very early age. Then when I was 16 years old I started using drugs and shortly after became involved in crime. A black magic warlock also became involved in my life and I narrowly escaped death 3 separate instances as a result of these circumstances. This led to crooked lawmen conspiring with hit men all plotting to murder me. My book tells of my hitchhiking as a teenager that stretched clear up until I was 31 years old, where I traveled to and why I went there. In my 20’s I often went to the mountains to live, in Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Michigan, Minnesota, USA and Ontario and British Columbia, Canada. I hunted and fished, camping in all sorts of weather at all times of the year, various periods totaling four years interspersed throughout my 20’s. In my lifetime I have experienced multitudinous miracles including, time warps, being in more than one place at a time, going from one place to another without physically traversing the distance between, time travel going from one day to another and then another without the sun ever setting on me, the sun appearing in the west in the morning and the east in the afternoon, and many other various experiences of supernatural manners. Then when I was 30 as I was traveling hitchhiking across North America I was totally transfigured in an actual physical ascension into Heaven where I touched the celestial body of someone I previously met but had since parted ways and no longer was in contact with their physical body of this life on earth as we now know it. Finally the dishonest law officers and one of their henchmen designed again to murder me and I was forced to commit a crime in order to live and survive their conspiracy. Altogether my life was conspired against 10 attempts of these conspirators to murder me. Besides all of the dangers I faced hitchhiking, living in the mountains so I have lived a dangerous, wild, exciting lifetime but because of my quick thinking, luck and action I have survived. Even to tell of experiencing Heaven in the flesh and back to life on earth as we now know it all while I was still alive.