Angels and Devils

CECELIA POPE died today, August 25th, at 1:26 p.m., a victim of a botched assassination attempt. She was 17 years old. She is survived by her 6 month old child, Carlos. If God is a bullet, have mercy on us, everyone.

Those who live in the Mt. Prospect area of Baltimore, MD are familiar with the Angels/Devils gangs that populate the ‘last frontier’. Local knowledge states that just 2 months ago - in the heat of a blistering summer - Rapheal DeAgo (leader of the Devils) declared borderland immunity for anyone willing to ’take out’ Victor Shavez (leader of the Angels). Two days later, Victor declared the reverse. These proposals brought many long time vigilantes and bounty hunters out of the woodwork. It even encouraged some ’new blood’ to try their hand at gang activity. Quickly, things escalated from a small turf war to an all out civil war between light and darkness. These decisions are what ultimately sealed young Cecelia’s fate.

Today at 1:26, standing at the bus stop on Horner and Range, trying to get to her job at Super Cuts by 2:00, Cecelia was shot dead by a 13 year old male named ’Nacho’ (the only name we have at this time). Cecelia was, evidently, misidentified as Victor Shavez (who she looks nothing like, and who is male). She died instantly. Nacho has no previous gang background. He just wanted safe passage to the 7-11 behind his house.

In a brief, almost impossible, interview, Rapheal DeAgo was available to comment on this tragedy.

“I don’t give a no shits ’bout no little girl. Especially no little girl that couda’ been Shavez. We gonna’ get that muthafucka! Sho nuff! Look out bitch! We wont stop at nothing Holmes. Ain’t no dead girl gonna cool us. Little Nacho get out, we might recruit the little bastard to do some real damage on your ass. We’re coming fo ya!”

Cecelia is only one in a slew of casualties (mostly gang members) in the past two months caused, directly and indirectly, by the turmoil between the Devils and the Angels. People are beginning to move to the suburbs in droves and the Mt. Prospect area is slowly but surely becoming a wasteland.

Baby Carlos will be cared for by his great grandmother in Seattle until he gets to be too much for her and is taken away by CPS. Or maybe he’ll just grow up to be a gang banger and come back to Mt. Prospect to avenge his mother’s death on her murderer’s children. And his children’s children. And their children’s children. Nothing new ever happens.

A Chance of Rain

PAUL GELATA died today, August 12th at 11:50 a.m. He was 57 years old. Medical sources indicate that he died because of external pressures on his heart. However, it is highly probable that internal pressures were also a factor.

For going on 29 years, Paul has been a meteorologist in the lazy town of Spencer, Iowa. A lifestyle not the norm. Out of the ordinary. One would think.
But Paul was an unknown. Predicting precipitation for an audience of the few and far between. The unknown unknowns. On a good day. Thursdays, Wednesdays and Sundays at 5:50 a.m. On Spencer cable access channel 14. Granted Paul didn’t have the poise of his respected local counterparts. Nor did he have the exposure of the national weather champions. He didn’t even have any official training in the meteorology sciences. But he felt like he filled a void that wasn’t being filled. It was his destiny. It was his “making it”. If anything, he was faithful to the end.

Developing, over the years, a highly elaborate and complex system of gauging the weather using half filled coffee mugs, weights and pulleys and strands of his own thinning hair. He was deemed a “crackpot” by most of his more successful contemporaries - mainly the guys over at WTTG channel 9 - but, ironically, his unorthodox methods had a 25% higher accuracy rate. This fact only served to make his life more miserable and push him further into obscurity.

One of Gelata’s only friends, Jim Jameson of Sydney, was saddened to learn of Paul’s sudden death, but he wasn’t surprised.

“The thing about Paul was, he always knew where he was headed. And when. It does upset me that he was never really respected in the community of Spencer, but Paul used to say that it was what he was called to. Not just the weather thing, but the obscurity and ridicule as well. One thing is certain. He didn’t live with any illusions. Didn’t die with any either, I guess. Not many people know this, but he wrote a novel in his early 30’s called The Epidemic of Love. In it, he not only explained his whole process of gauging the weather, but he also foretold his death. It’s uncanny. Really. Did you know that his parents used to leave him out in the rain for hours. He was four. We hadn’t talked in quite a while, but I’ll miss him. I will miss him.”

The nation, this week, is mourning the loss of a newscaster they grew up with. A newscaster that got them through so many hard times in our tumultuous history. A newscaster with a face. A newscaster that mattered. A newscaster that buried Gelata with is fame. Now, they will both be buried.

Paul Gelata’s funeral will be held this Sunday at Boheme Episcopal. Outside on the front lawn. Few, other than Jameson, are expected to be in attendance. Chance of rain - 66%. According to Paul’s forecast yesterday.

On the bright side, the slot formerly held by Gelata, over at channel 14, is now open. Those interested should send their request over to city hall in downtown Spencer. Shining stars are on the horizon. I can feel it.