Right Train, Wrong Track: The Lakeside Fairy Tales: Volume One

By Doc Mingo

Saul Bilkman is a slick lawyer on an accidental cross-country train ride when he meets Francis Toussant and his dog Begonia. Fran is soft spoken and sweet, and Saul feels the need to keep talking to the guy. Saul soon learns that Fran is a widower who lost the love of his life and is still grieving.

Despite their differences, the Angel of Fate has put these two older men together on this particular train for a reason. The train goes in its correct and expected direction—but not so much Saul and Fran. These strangers become lovers, and despite their intended destinations, end up in much different and far better places instead.

In this modern day fairy tale, Saul and Fran are transformed by the power of love, need, and hope. Their meeting is no accident but the will of fate. These men began their journey as lonely strangers but will end up as hopeful lovers finding their ways home to each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Apr 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665739559

Doc Mingo

I am so pleased to be able to include my pictures and drawings along with my stories. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then surely these pics are good at saving space! Besides, what fun is a story book time if there are no pictures to go with the tale? Why, that’s like cookies without milk! I would never sink so low! The people I draw come from my life, and the images and important relationships in my life. I take joy from brining my sketch book all around Boystown and Chicago. If ‘Center City’ seems familiar, and if you have spent any time in Chicago, now you know why. In all my drawings I use simple pencils, paper and crayons. From the most basic of ingredients, I hope you enjoy the flavors and colors I cook up and make for you. And I hope you are pleased by my efforts to make you pictures to go with my Fairy Tale story books. This is the humble art of a humble man. Forgive me that I know well that they are creations that are far from perfect companions for my flawed love stories. But, since it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, I hope you will enjoy them along with my stories just the same. I beg of you to forgive my hope and audacity to think that you will find these pictures I draw for you better than just leaving a nothing void of a blank page. It seems like such a waste of paper and space no to try and fill it up nicely for you all. Milk for your cookies is what these pictures are. Forgive the frail ego and the clumsy hand. My heart and hand meant well.

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Copyright © 2023 Doc Mingo.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system

without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3954-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3955-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906692

Archway Publishing rev. date: 04/04/2023

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SALUTATION

Dear Friend,

Thanks you for your kind and generous consideration to come and spend some time with me today. My obligation as a healer is that my words must first do no harm. They are intended to make you smile and lessen your burdens. If as a healer I failed, overtaken by the competing vows of brother, father, lover, poet, and priest, then I, the meager shaman, beg your pardon. Alas, the road to hell is very well paved by the shining gold of best intentions. I meant only to help the clan pass a cold winters’ night by the campfire and tell some stories that help us all to keep our eyes on the prize—that we may all work as one to bring all hands to good works and all hearts closer to a God of love and hope, with a little laughter and some helpful questions. I believe it is all our calling to heal a broken world, after all. How you hear that call and how you echo back to Gabriel’s horn is entirely unique to you.

I hope you enjoy this story and don’t curse me for the effort to be helpful and entertain you.

Your faithful servant and brother,

Doc Mingo

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TRAVEL ITINERARY

Attention, passengers. You are on the Big Sky Limited Line. This is the westbound train heading for Pacific Terminus and all major stations on the line.

If you are not heading westbound for Pacific Terminus, you are on the wrong train and should notify a porter immediately and detrain promptly.

Thank you for traveling with us on the Big Sky Limited Line. We hope you have a pleasant journey.

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CONTENTS

Salutation

Travel Itinerary

Station 1     Center City International Airport

Station 2     Union Station

Station 3     Rockdale

Station 4     Forked Bluffs

Station 5     Broken Boulders

Station 6     Grand Junction

Station 7     The Continental Divide

Station 8     Cabin Switch

Station 9     Cascade Gap

Station 10   Puget Sound

Station 11   Pacific Terminus

Station 12   Pacifica Gardens

Station 13   Ferry to Victoria

Station 14   Acknowledgments

About the Author

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For Stef.

With special thanks to

Jon Jon.

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Center City International Airport

"You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, man! You’re not serious, are you?!"

An exasperated Saul Bilkman berated the stressed-out ticket agent waiting impotently at the end of a very long, snaking line of pissed-off travelers. All of them quickly realized that, just like that asshole Saul yelling at the poor service rep at the front of the line, they too had each and all just been equally and royally fucked. Nothing to do but wipe off the mess and goo and get up and move on now. Cry about it if you want. But you’d already been fucked. Now it was just a cleanup on aisle 7 was the sudden epiphany. Unceremoniously cast into the pit of travelers’ oblivion, the whole lot of them.

"I’m totally serious. It’s a fucking mess, sir. Total clusterfuck.

There is not one single seat you can find me out of here going west? Saul begged incredulously

"I’m telling you, no, sir. Zero. Zilch. Nada. No way. Not today. The air controllers union just ordered a general strike and sabotaged the software. There’s no air traffic control coverage at all now. The skies are totally wide open. The air isn’t certified safe right now. The feds have totally closed all civilian air corridors going through the Center City Air Domain."

I can’t get on a private plane even?

"all civilian flights are grounded. No takeoffs. No landings. No commercial. No private. No fly-through. Everything in the air is diverted out now even. Authorized emergency landings and military only. And the national union just called for a general strike, so this cancer is spreading today. It’s metastasizing nationwide now. That’s it. You’re totally fucked. We’re all just totally fucked."

"But I gotta get to Grand Junction by tomorrow. It is an emergency. Money is no object. There has to be a way?"

Honey, look. I can give you a refund. I can give you a voucher. I can rebook you for after next week. I can get you half off a pizza at Piccolo Joe’s. I can give you a coupon good for two free drinks at Big Bertha’s Saloon even. Much as it pains me to make such a fine-looking man cry—and I’m hella not the kind to say no to ‘all of that’—but honey that’s the absolute best I can do.

So, nothing?

That’s the best I can do right now, honey. Here, take a few more free drink coupons and go get plastered. If you want, I will even meet you at Big Bertha’s after this shit show shift ends. I will help you forget your frustrations, baby—if you run along like a good boy now, mister pretty man, and let me not help all these other people in line behind you before they turn really ugly on me. The rep really had done his best. He continued by asking, "What’s the huge rush anyway? You getting hitched in the morning out under the Big Sky or something?!

No, I just gotta get out there for some very important business for a dying, sick rich old fuck, said Saul.

Well, it’s a fourteen-hour drive, so I suggest you go scramble and try to get a rental car before they are all gone, baby. You’d better start driving now, honey. It’s nearly midmorning. Here, take this.

The rep hastily and hopefully wrote his name and number on the back of a voucher. It was for a car rental.

Call me when you get back, sugar. He winked at Saul.

Saul took the coupon but ignored the wink. Saul would never pass on a coupon. Or a free drink. But he sure as fuck wasn’t going to call that little pansy later. No fuckin’ way.

Saul got to the rental car area. It was not pretty. A sea of troubled waters. Choppy with whitecaps. He saw a runner heading back out to the garage.

"Hey! My amigo! Saul yelled at the kid and motioned him vigorously to come over toward him. Saul reached into his pocket; took out his big, fine, fat wallet; and took out a crisp C-note. Kid, can you get me a car? That line of people is two fuckin’ miles long."

As he pressed the bill into the young man’s hand, the kid said, Jefe, there just ain’t no cars today. Sorry, sir.

Saul grabbed another C-note from his big, fine, fat wallet and gave it to the kid.

I’m real sorry, man. The kid shook his head. No hay nada hoy!

Saul grabbed another C-note. It takes three strikes, he said.

Jefe, I can’t take your money. I would love a quick three. That’s more than I get running around this rat cage all day. But there just ain’t no cars, jefe. Not unless you want to buy my beat-up, old Brevia! He gave Saul back the money.

Now this was no ordinary day. Ordinarily, the Amigo would have kept the turkey and at least looked like he was trying. But he was kind of pissed off. Lots of airport workers were put out by the strike. Even more than a lot of the travelers were. They got stuck in the muck of it all with no easy out. It was like a shoot-out gone wrong when a runner is trapped trying to steal second on a shit pop fly. But they, too, were airport workers. Government workers. Brothers and sisters in arms. And some of them were on strike today.

And they weren’t striking to get better doughnuts in the lounge. They were complaining about little things. Like decent wages. And dignity. And a humane work place. Adequate staffing. Time off. Better safety and help with stress and PTSD. Raises and benefits to keep up with inflation and the greed of the man. When labor fights with capital, it’s always a little like a marriage gone wrong. There’s yelling. There’s recrimination. And if anyone gets a black eye, it’s usually the man that is to blame.

It’s bad when a big man stomps on little guys. It’s worse when the government is the big man, and the little guys know it’s the only game in town. Try negotiating with a gorilla. Then try