Written for the Classic Round Robin for Winterfest Online 2022

With special thanks to my editor  JoAnn Baca for her advice and encouragement

(Just a quick reminder to readers:  In my BATB universe, Stan Kaczmarek is Elliott Burch’s birth name. After his father was murdered in “A Kingdom by the Sea,” Elliott basically hit rock bottom, did a lot of soul searching, and decided to “go back to the beginning” to figure out where he went wrong.  He put his business in escrow, took back his birth name, moved into his Dad’s ratty apartment close to the docks, took a job as a longshoreman, and started over. Finding new meaning in some volunteer work at a local soup kitchen, Stan then runs into a desperate Kipper on the street who is being chased by some gun-toting goons because Kipper saw them transporting women being trafficked into the commercial sex business. They escape, go to the police, and Catherine is called in to help talk to the eye-witnesses.  In the process of getting Stan and Kipper to a safe house, the three are attacked and escape into the Tunnels, where Stan/Elliott finally meets Vincent, the man who won his Cathy’s heart. Stan’s experiences in the Tunnels and his growing fondness for Kipper, who reminds him of a young Stosh Kaczmarek, help provide him with a new direction for his talents, wealth, and ambition – a complete reimaging of low-income housing.  In concert with his former adversary Luz Corrales, the activist who helped bring down his Burch Tower project, Stan establishes the Mathilde Kaczmarek Innovations in Housing Foundation, named after his late mother.  Oh, and Stan is in the process of applying to become Kipper’s legal guardian. Enjoy!)

After needing to pull over the full-page magnifier for a fifth time in the space of twenty minutes, Stan Kaczmarek stood up from the old building plans covering the drafting table in his temporary office at the Fairness in Housing Coalition, stretched his cramped muscles, and rubbed his tired eyes.

“It’s time to face the passage of time and admit it, old fella,” the handsome architect groused. “You probably need reading glasses.”

“I heard that,” a familiar voice trilled, and Stan looked over to see a grinning Luz Corrales leaning in his open office door, her trench coat still hanging from her shoulders. “Well, well, so there’s a chink in the multi-millionaire developer’s armor.”

Stan laughed. “You try squinting at 60-year-old blueprints for hours and see if you fare any better,” he riposted.  “It’s a miracle I haven’t needed reading glasses years sooner.  Drafting takes a toll on your vision.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luz responded, doffing her coat. “Drop by my office when you get a chance. At my meeting with the planning commission, I learned about an opportunity for a big project in the Bronx that’s right up your alley – a condemned high-rise apartment complex in a low-income neighborhood.  But first, Jerry has a call for you on line 3.”

“Will do,” Stan said, waving Luz off as he dropped into the much more comfortable chair at his desk and picked up the telephone receiver, punching the button for line 3. “Stan Kaczmarek here.”

“Hey, Stan,” a rough voice replied. “It’s Cullen. I’m calling from the phone in the basement of Henry Pei’s restaurant. Sorry to bother you at work, but Father said you’d wanna know right away.  Kipper’s had an accident here in the Tunnels and dislocated his shoulder.  He’s gonna be OK, no other injuries, no concussion.  Father was able to … what did he call it? … Oh yeah … reduce … He was able to reduce the dislocation and get Kipper’s shoulder back in the socket without any complications.”

“Oh my gosh,” Stan cried out. “What happened?  How did Kipper get hurt in the first place?”

“Well, he was pokin’ around for some book in Father’s library,” Cullen answered.  “You know what a mess that place is. He was tryin’ to pull something down from the highest shelf at the top of that spiral staircase by standin’ on a rickety chair, lost his balance, and fell.  Honestly, the kid’s lucky he didn’t crack his skull or break a bone. But then again, we’re all of the opinion that Kipper’s partly made of rubber.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Stan groaned. “He scares me to death with the tricks he pulls on that skateboard contraption Mouse built. Tell Father and Kipper I’ll be right there.”

“You got it,” Cullen replied. “I’ll be waitin’ for ya at your usual spot to lead ya down.”

***

Vincent listened carefully to the latest report on the pipes and then turned to an extremely cranky, sullen Kipper, saying, “Cullen is meeting Stan at C12 to lead him Below. He’ll be here soon.”

“Oh great,” Kipper snorted angrily from his infirmary bed. “Another grown-up telling me how stupid I was to try and do something for myself.”

Vincent sighed and did his best to conceal the grin twitching at the corner of his unique mouth. “Father does tend to go straight into nagging mode, doesn’t he, once he’s finished being terrified that you might have been badly injured. I remember it well. I think the last time he fussed at me was … what? … three weeks ago? … Yes, when I managed to drop a tool box on my own toe. You’d think I had broken my leg instead, given the huffing and puffing.”

This time Kipper’s snort was of the amused variety.  “Yeah, it was funny watching him fuss at you, and you’re a grown man.”

“So, you found it funny when Father’s anxiety was directed at me, and not so funny directed at you, huh?” Vincent asked.

“OK, OK,” Kipper relented. “I know. Father worries about all of us when we get hurt, and that’s why he fusses, because he loves us.”

“Mmhmm,” Vincent replied. “And if Stan fusses a bit as well, what could you conclude from that behavior?”

Kipper sighed deeply, much put-upon. “That he loves me and worries about me, and I should be nicer about it.”

“There now,” Vincent replied, his ears perking up as he heard footsteps and a rumbled conversation approaching. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Soon, Father escorted Stan into the hospital chamber.  Cullen called out a quick, “You take care, kid,” from the chamber entrance and headed back to his workshop, as the two other men converged at Kipper’s bedside.

“As you can see, Stan,” Father began, “I’ve successfully reduced Kipper’s dislocated shoulder with Vincent’s assistance. He’ll have to wear this special sling for several weeks, which keeps his arm bound close to his body so he doesn’t irritate his injured shoulder.”

Stan gently brushed Kipper’s hair out of his eyes and murmured, “Hey Buddy, you scared me a bit. Cullen says you fell trying to get a book off a high shelf in Father’s library. Any particular reason you couldn’t have asked for help?”

“Oh man,” Kipper whined. “I wanted to get a book for this project Vincent and Old Sam have assigned in our science class. We’re supposed to go observe a particular kind of animal in Central Park, make notes about what parts of the Park it lives in, what it eats, other behavior, and then research more information about the animal from books in the library, and write a report. There’s lots of robins in Central Park right now, and I wanted to get down that big book about birds before anyone else got the same idea. Then I fell, and everybody got all worked up about it, and the stupid book is still wedged up there on the top shelf, unless somebody already swiped it.”

“Are you talking about Songbirds of North America?” Vincent asked.

“Yep,” Kipper replied. “That’s the one.”

“Well, why don’t I go see if I can bring you that book?” Stan replied. “You can do the research part first until Father says it’s OK for you to go up to the Park to make your observations.”

“I’ll show you the section Kipper’s talking about,” Vincent added, and the two men left together to visit Father’s library.

***

“Oh my gosh!” Stan exclaimed, as he took in the broken chair at the bottom of the spiral staircase in Father’s library and the height of the shelf at the top of the stairs crammed full with books of various sizes, including the very large and weighty picture book Vincent handed down to him, Songbirds of North America. “Cullen wasn’t kidding when he said it was a miracle Kipper wasn’t seriously injured!”

“My brother Devin suffered a similar fall for the same science project many years ago,” Vincent replied as he made his way back down the spiral staircase.

Stan looked around the library chamber with its many overcrowded shelves. No doubt about it, Dr. Wells’ library is long overdue for a renovation.  Hmmm … maybe I can help.

“Vincent, why would books that the children might need for a school project be stored in such a precarious place?” Stan asked. “I know Father has some sort of plan for why the books are stored in such a fashion, but surely it would make sense to put any books the kids might need down where they can be easily reached?”

Vincent gazed around the library chamber, of all places the one that could most be called “Father Personified.”

“I do know that Father wanted the books arranged roughly according to the Dewey Decimal system as you proceed about the chamber from left to right,” Vincent responded. “As you might imagine, the library grew like Topsy over the years, and different sections of books had to be moved about as the number of volumes in that section grew.  Over time, this meant the science section eventually got moved to include the shelves that were added in and around and above the spiral staircase. And of course, with so many people using the library over the years, Father’s original organization system has become a bit … haphazard.”

Stan walked to the center of the library chamber, then paced about the entire space, counting his footsteps and making notes in his pocket diary.

“It could be done,” Stan murmured to himself.

Vincent chuffed. “Don’t tell me – you’re thinking about renovating Father’s library. Don’t you already have enough projects on your plate? And do you have any idea what size bear you might be poking?”

“Probably,” Stan replied with a big grin. “Mary already warned me that Dr. Wells is more than a bit set in his ways. But then again, I’ve had to win over society matrons and politicians and historic preservationists and activists like Luz in order to accomplish any of my projects.  I think I can talk Father into a long overdue overhaul of his library, especially if I promise him many, many new accessible shelves. And when I get back to the office, Luz wants to talk with me about taking on a condemned high-rise apartment complex in the Bronx as our second Mathilde Kaczmarek Foundation project.”

“You are positively certifiable,” Vincent exclaimed with a smile. “I wish you luck in your endeavors. You’ll need it.”

“I’m overwhelmed by your confidence in me,” Stan chuckled in reply. “Let’s get this enormous tome to Kipper, so he can stop worrying about it getting ‘swiped.’”

***

“You found it!” Kipper exulted, when Stan returned to the infirmary with Songbirds of North America in his hands. “It was still there!”

“Well, Vincent found it,” Stan replied, as he placed the large book gently on Kipper’s lap. “I was too busy looking at the broken chair at the bottom of the stairs and imagining you in a crumpled, unconscious heap.”

“Nah, I jumped off the chair when it started to fall,” Kipper retorted smugly. “I just didn’t quite land where I expected to.”

Father set aside the notes he was making on Kipper’s medical chart and hobbled over to the bed to take a look at the book that had been the cause of this latest Tunnel accident.

“Oh my,” Father stated. “This is the same book Devin was trying to retrieve when he fell and broke his leg!”

“Broke his leg!” Stan exclaimed. “OK, that does it. Dr. Wells, you and I are going to have a conversation about reorganizing and renovating your library to make it much safer for everyone.”

Father opened his mouth to disagree, but Stan interrupted him, stating, “No! No arguments! Kipper should be the last kid to be injured trying to reach for a book on a high shelf.  I have a renovation plan in mind that will not only solve this dangerous problem, but also provide you with space for many, many more easily accessible shelves within the same square footage.”

“OK, OK,” Kipper interrupted. “Before you get buried in a discussion about another big project, I want to know why Devin wanted this book.”

“He was working on the same science project you and your classmates are undertaking now,” Vincent replied. “If I remember correctly, Devin was interested in blue jays, rather than robins.”

“Well, let’s see what’s so great about this book,” Kipper stated, as he opened the picture book and began looking for robins. As he paged through the “B” section, a folded piece of lined notebook paper slid off into his lap. “What’s this?” he asked, as he opened the note.

“That’s Devin’s handwriting,” Father observed.

“And a very nice pencil drawing of a blue jay,” Stan added.

“There’s a note at the bottom,” Vincent replied. “What does it say, Kipper?”

Dear Mr. Blue Jay,

I hope you appreciate all the trouble I went to for this science project about you.  I broke my leg trying to get down a book about birds out of Father’s library. And now, I’ve just discovered that, despite being rather good-looking, you’re not terribly nice. You will actually eat baby birds from other nests!  That means, you’re a cannibal!  How horrible!

Apparently, you’re also extremely loud and irritating. The book says your call is “raucous.”  I had to look that word up, but it means “making a disturbingly harsh and loud noise.”  I figured as handsome looking as you were, you’d probably have a beautiful song to go with your lovely blue feathers. But no! When I could finally go to the Park to observe, I could hear for myself that your call is actually rather ugly.  What a disappointment!

And finally – you aren’t even really BLUE! Your feathers are actually BROWN. They only appear blue because of the way light disperses through your feather structure.  If the feather gets crushed, it just looks brown.  So, you’re a FAKE too!

You’ve gone from being my favorite bird to being my least favorite bird. If I had more time, I’d choose a different bird to observe for this project, but because of the time I lost with my broken leg, I’m stuck reporting on YOU!

So, don’t think this is any sort of big honor.  It’s NOT!  I’m leaving this note to warn other kids not to choose the blue jay for their science project.  You’re a phony, and you don’t deserve it!

NOT yours truly,

Devin

~ THE END ~

Written for the Classic Round Robin for Winterfest Online 2022

With special thanks to my editor  JoAnn Baca for her advice and encouragement

(Just a quick reminder to readers:  In my BATB universe, Stan Kaczmarek is Elliott Burch’s birth name. After his father was murdered in “A Kingdom by the Sea,” Elliott basically hit rock bottom, did a lot of soul searching, and decided to “go back to the beginning” to figure out where he went wrong.  He put his business in escrow, took back his birth name, moved into his Dad’s ratty apartment close to the docks, took a job as a longshoreman, and started over. Finding new meaning in some volunteer work at a local soup kitchen, Stan then runs into a desperate Kipper on the street who is being chased by some gun-toting goons because Kipper saw them transporting women being trafficked into the commercial sex business. They escape, go to the police, and Catherine is called in to help talk to the eye-witnesses.  In the process of getting Stan and Kipper to a safe house, the three are attacked and escape into the Tunnels, where Stan/Elliott finally meets Vincent, the man who won his Cathy’s heart. Stan’s experiences in the Tunnels and his growing fondness for Kipper, who reminds him of a young Stosh Kaczmarek, help provide him with a new direction for his talents, wealth, and ambition – a complete reimaging of low-income housing.  In concert with his former adversary Luz Corrales, the activist who helped bring down his Burch Tower project, Stan establishes the Mathilde Kaczmarek Innovations in Housing Foundation, named after his late mother.  Oh, and Stan is in the process of applying to become Kipper’s legal guardian. Enjoy!)

After needing to pull over the full-page magnifier for a fifth time in the space of twenty minutes, Stan Kaczmarek stood up from the old building plans covering the drafting table in his temporary office at the Fairness in Housing Coalition, stretched his cramped muscles, and rubbed his tired eyes.

“It’s time to face the passage of time and admit it, old fella,” the handsome architect groused. “You probably need reading glasses.”

“I heard that,” a familiar voice trilled, and Stan looked over to see a grinning Luz Corrales leaning in his open office door, her trench coat still hanging from her shoulders. “Well, well, so there’s a chink in the multi-millionaire developer’s armor.”

Stan laughed. “You try squinting at 60-year-old blueprints for hours and see if you fare any better,” he riposted.  “It’s a miracle I haven’t needed reading glasses years sooner.  Drafting takes a toll on your vision.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luz responded, doffing her coat. “Drop by my office when you get a chance. At my meeting with the planning commission, I learned about an opportunity for a big project in the Bronx that’s right up your alley – a condemned high-rise apartment complex in a low-income neighborhood.  But first, Jerry has a call for you on line 3.”

“Will do,” Stan said, waving Luz off as he dropped into the much more comfortable chair at his desk and picked up the telephone receiver, punching the button for line 3. “Stan Kaczmarek here.”

“Hey, Stan,” a rough voice replied. “It’s Cullen. I’m calling from the phone in the basement of Henry Pei’s restaurant. Sorry to bother you at work, but Father said you’d wanna know right away.  Kipper’s had an accident here in the Tunnels and dislocated his shoulder.  He’s gonna be OK, no other injuries, no concussion.  Father was able to … what did he call it? … Oh yeah … reduce … He was able to reduce the dislocation and get Kipper’s shoulder back in the socket without any complications.”

“Oh my gosh,” Stan cried out. “What happened?  How did Kipper get hurt in the first place?”

“Well, he was pokin’ around for some book in Father’s library,” Cullen answered.  “You know what a mess that place is. He was tryin’ to pull something down from the highest shelf at the top of that spiral staircase by standin’ on a rickety chair, lost his balance, and fell.  Honestly, the kid’s lucky he didn’t crack his skull or break a bone. But then again, we’re all of the opinion that Kipper’s partly made of rubber.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Stan groaned. “He scares me to death with the tricks he pulls on that skateboard contraption Mouse built. Tell Father and Kipper I’ll be right there.”

“You got it,” Cullen replied. “I’ll be waitin’ for ya at your usual spot to lead ya down.”

***

Vincent listened carefully to the latest report on the pipes and then turned to an extremely cranky, sullen Kipper, saying, “Cullen is meeting Stan at C12 to lead him Below. He’ll be here soon.”

“Oh great,” Kipper snorted angrily from his infirmary bed. “Another grown-up telling me how stupid I was to try and do something for myself.”

Vincent sighed and did his best to conceal the grin twitching at the corner of his unique mouth. “Father does tend to go straight into nagging mode, doesn’t he, once he’s finished being terrified that you might have been badly injured. I remember it well. I think the last time he fussed at me was … what? … three weeks ago? … Yes, when I managed to drop a tool box on my own toe. You’d think I had broken my leg instead, given the huffing and puffing.”

This time Kipper’s snort was of the amused variety.  “Yeah, it was funny watching him fuss at you, and you’re a grown man.”

“So, you found it funny when Father’s anxiety was directed at me, and not so funny directed at you, huh?” Vincent asked.

“OK, OK,” Kipper relented. “I know. Father worries about all of us when we get hurt, and that’s why he fusses, because he loves us.”

“Mmhmm,” Vincent replied. “And if Stan fusses a bit as well, what could you conclude from that behavior?”

Kipper sighed deeply, much put-upon. “That he loves me and worries about me, and I should be nicer about it.”

“There now,” Vincent replied, his ears perking up as he heard footsteps and a rumbled conversation approaching. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Soon, Father escorted Stan into the hospital chamber.  Cullen called out a quick, “You take care, kid,” from the chamber entrance and headed back to his workshop, as the two other men converged at Kipper’s bedside.

“As you can see, Stan,” Father began, “I’ve successfully reduced Kipper’s dislocated shoulder with Vincent’s assistance. He’ll have to wear this special sling for several weeks, which keeps his arm bound close to his body so he doesn’t irritate his injured shoulder.”

Stan gently brushed Kipper’s hair out of his eyes and murmured, “Hey Buddy, you scared me a bit. Cullen says you fell trying to get a book off a high shelf in Father’s library. Any particular reason you couldn’t have asked for help?”

“Oh man,” Kipper whined. “I wanted to get a book for this project Vincent and Old Sam have assigned in our science class. We’re supposed to go observe a particular kind of animal in Central Park, make notes about what parts of the Park it lives in, what it eats, other behavior, and then research more information about the animal from books in the library, and write a report. There’s lots of robins in Central Park right now, and I wanted to get down that big book about birds before anyone else got the same idea. Then I fell, and everybody got all worked up about it, and the stupid book is still wedged up there on the top shelf, unless somebody already swiped it.”

“Are you talking about Songbirds of North America?” Vincent asked.

“Yep,” Kipper replied. “That’s the one.”

“Well, why don’t I go see if I can bring you that book?” Stan replied. “You can do the research part first until Father says it’s OK for you to go up to the Park to make your observations.”

“I’ll show you the section Kipper’s talking about,” Vincent added, and the two men left together to visit Father’s library.

***

“Oh my gosh!” Stan exclaimed, as he took in the broken chair at the bottom of the spiral staircase in Father’s library and the height of the shelf at the top of the stairs crammed full with books of various sizes, including the very large and weighty picture book Vincent handed down to him, Songbirds of North America. “Cullen wasn’t kidding when he said it was a miracle Kipper wasn’t seriously injured!”

“My brother Devin suffered a similar fall for the same science project many years ago,” Vincent replied as he made his way back down the spiral staircase.

Stan looked around the library chamber with its many overcrowded shelves. No doubt about it, Dr. Wells’ library is long overdue for a renovation.  Hmmm … maybe I can help.

“Vincent, why would books that the children might need for a school project be stored in such a precarious place?” Stan asked. “I know Father has some sort of plan for why the books are stored in such a fashion, but surely it would make sense to put any books the kids might need down where they can be easily reached?”

Vincent gazed around the library chamber, of all places the one that could most be called “Father Personified.”

“I do know that Father wanted the books arranged roughly according to the Dewey Decimal system as you proceed about the chamber from left to right,” Vincent responded. “As you might imagine, the library grew like Topsy over the years, and different sections of books had to be moved about as the number of volumes in that section grew.  Over time, this meant the science section eventually got moved to include the shelves that were added in and around and above the spiral staircase. And of course, with so many people using the library over the years, Father’s original organization system has become a bit … haphazard.”

Stan walked to the center of the library chamber, then paced about the entire space, counting his footsteps and making notes in his pocket diary.

“It could be done,” Stan murmured to himself.

Vincent chuffed. “Don’t tell me – you’re thinking about renovating Father’s library. Don’t you already have enough projects on your plate? And do you have any idea what size bear you might be poking?”

“Probably,” Stan replied with a big grin. “Mary already warned me that Dr. Wells is more than a bit set in his ways. But then again, I’ve had to win over society matrons and politicians and historic preservationists and activists like Luz in order to accomplish any of my projects.  I think I can talk Father into a long overdue overhaul of his library, especially if I promise him many, many new accessible shelves. And when I get back to the office, Luz wants to talk with me about taking on a condemned high-rise apartment complex in the Bronx as our second Mathilde Kaczmarek Foundation project.”

“You are positively certifiable,” Vincent exclaimed with a smile. “I wish you luck in your endeavors. You’ll need it.”

“I’m overwhelmed by your confidence in me,” Stan chuckled in reply. “Let’s get this enormous tome to Kipper, so he can stop worrying about it getting ‘swiped.’”

***

“You found it!” Kipper exulted, when Stan returned to the infirmary with Songbirds of North America in his hands. “It was still there!”

“Well, Vincent found it,” Stan replied, as he placed the large book gently on Kipper’s lap. “I was too busy looking at the broken chair at the bottom of the stairs and imagining you in a crumpled, unconscious heap.”

“Nah, I jumped off the chair when it started to fall,” Kipper retorted smugly. “I just didn’t quite land where I expected to.”

Father set aside the notes he was making on Kipper’s medical chart and hobbled over to the bed to take a look at the book that had been the cause of this latest Tunnel accident.

“Oh my,” Father stated. “This is the same book Devin was trying to retrieve when he fell and broke his leg!”

“Broke his leg!” Stan exclaimed. “OK, that does it. Dr. Wells, you and I are going to have a conversation about reorganizing and renovating your library to make it much safer for everyone.”

Father opened his mouth to disagree, but Stan interrupted him, stating, “No! No arguments! Kipper should be the last kid to be injured trying to reach for a book on a high shelf.  I have a renovation plan in mind that will not only solve this dangerous problem, but also provide you with space for many, many more easily accessible shelves within the same square footage.”

“OK, OK,” Kipper interrupted. “Before you get buried in a discussion about another big project, I want to know why Devin wanted this book.”

“He was working on the same science project you and your classmates are undertaking now,” Vincent replied. “If I remember correctly, Devin was interested in blue jays, rather than robins.”

“Well, let’s see what’s so great about this book,” Kipper stated, as he opened the picture book and began looking for robins. As he paged through the “B” section, a folded piece of lined notebook paper slid off into his lap. “What’s this?” he asked, as he opened the note.

“That’s Devin’s handwriting,” Father observed.

“And a very nice pencil drawing of a blue jay,” Stan added.

“There’s a note at the bottom,” Vincent replied. “What does it say, Kipper?”

Dear Mr. Blue Jay,

I hope you appreciate all the trouble I went to for this science project about you.  I broke my leg trying to get down a book about birds out of Father’s library. And now, I’ve just discovered that, despite being rather good-looking, you’re not terribly nice. You will actually eat baby birds from other nests!  That means, you’re a cannibal!  How horrible!

Apparently, you’re also extremely loud and irritating. The book says your call is “raucous.”  I had to look that word up, but it means “making a disturbingly harsh and loud noise.”  I figured as handsome looking as you were, you’d probably have a beautiful song to go with your lovely blue feathers. But no! When I could finally go to the Park to observe, I could hear for myself that your call is actually rather ugly.  What a disappointment!

And finally – you aren’t even really BLUE! Your feathers are actually BROWN. They only appear blue because of the way light disperses through your feather structure.  If the feather gets crushed, it just looks brown.  So, you’re a FAKE too!

You’ve gone from being my favorite bird to being my least favorite bird. If I had more time, I’d choose a different bird to observe for this project, but because of the time I lost with my broken leg, I’m stuck reporting on YOU!

So, don’t think this is any sort of big honor.  It’s NOT!  I’m leaving this note to warn other kids not to choose the blue jay for their science project.  You’re a phony, and you don’t deserve it!

NOT yours truly,

Devin

~ THE END ~