Now I know why it’s good to be a Florida Gator
Image courtesy of Flickr user Bryan McDonald by way of a Creative Commons license. https://www.flickr.com/people/28155182@N06
Gator growl: One of my long-held suspicions has been confirmed by researchers at the University of Florida.
This will come as good news for Steve Spurrier, and maybe not such good news for the unborn children of Gator fans – who will remain unborn, it seems, if the University of Florida remains in national championship contention.
Here’s a quote from a press release from the UF public affairs department:
“Some would say that for diehard Gator fans, seeing their favorite team in action is better than sex. Now, University of Florida researchers have scientific evidence supporting it.
“Researchers examining how people react to their emotions sowed subjects a variety of photographs while recording their physiological and subjective responses. People categorized as extreme Gator fans showed stronger positive reactions to pictures of Gator sporting events than to erotic pictures.”
Whoa!
Is that not a mouthful or what?
No wonder the stands at Ben Hill Griffith Stadium are always so packed. No wonder the seething, sweaty masses who pack those stands are cheering – and it’s a LUSTY cheering, I might add.
No wonder the seats are so. …
NO! I won’t do that. But NOW I understand why Florida fans chant, “It’s great to be a Florida Gator!” as they leave the stadium, not to mention why so many of them are smoking cigarettes. It IS great to be a Florida Gator.
The news that Florida football is better than sex will force headline writers the land over to rethink their verbs.
BTW, the researcher who made this landmark discovery is a University of Miami grad, a school where football is better than murder.
This brew’s for you: For years I’ve been amassing a collection of American beer cans and bottles. I must have a couple of hundred. Now, I want to get rid of them.
But I know nothing about the collectability of beer cans. Do you? Give me a call at 864-0433, or e-mail me at [email protected].
I’m not looking to make money. In fact, if any charity or kids’ group would to clean up the collection and sell it, they can have whatever money it brings.
Redneck computer terms: “Reboot,” as in: what you do when the first pair gets covered with barnyard stuff.
Say what? Recently a letter arrived from the National Safety Council stamped “Air Enhanced.” Does that mean the letter was almost sent “air mail”? Did the mailman stand behind the airplane, waving the letter as the jet exhaust swooshed over him? Did anybody arrest this man?
I threw it in a receptacle that was “garbage enhanced.”
Headlines that didn’t work: “Prostitutes Appeal to Pope.”
Words that should be words: “Peppier,” as in” The waiter at a fancy restaurant whose sole purpose seems to be walking around asking diners if they want ground pepper.
This column was originally published in the May 28, 1997 Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, Ello and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image courtesy of Flickr user Joe Ross. https://www.flickr.com/photos/joeross/
Have you visited a Ford lately? Did you know Florida has two cities in the running to become the permanent home of the Mustang Museum?
We’re talking cars, not horses or airplanes.
I spoke to Chris Hoverman, chairman of the museum site selection committee, who told me Orlando and Daytona Beach have made it to a short list of 10 candidate cities after the committee, which met the weekend of April 19-20, whittled down a preliminary list of 25 potential sites.
The committee will meet with representatives from the remaining candidates in early June at a gathering at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Mich. By late August, the 10 cities will be narrowed to those four that offer the best combination of features sought by museum supporters. A final decision will be made in the first quarter of 1998.
And what kind of features is the museum looking for?
Hoverman answered that question without hesitation: “We need land.”
About 30 acres to be exact – make that 30 affordable acres. “I’ve got cities that’ll sell me land at a million dollars an acre,” Hoverman said sardonically. Obviously a better deal is one of the goals.
But they’re also looking for location location location – with sufficient nearby attractions to draw about 300,000 visitors per year to the museum.
Would a 30-acre parcel in attraction-rich Orlando be a good draw? Hoverman answered with an unqualified maybe. It would depend on where in Orlando that parcel lay, he said. A site that was inaccessible or located in an undesirable area wouldn’t do the museum or Mustang fans any good. Hoverman also expressed a little bit of concern over the fact that Orlando is already glutted with attractions. But the weather in the Southeast is a factor in its favor, he added. And so is Florida’s existing tourist machinery, which brings in tens of thousands of visitors every year.
A deciding factor could be enthusiastic support from Orlando or Daytona Beach – either the cities themselves or local businesses.
Neither Orlando nor Daytona Beach is very close to Okaloosa County, so having the Mustang Museum in one of those cities might not make a huge difference to local folks. But if the museum goes to a California site, not many of the people who would put in a day’s drive could see it either.
Besides, it’s kind of a matter of pride that the museum be located in Florida.
I don’t know what you could do to help, unless you’ve got connections on the Orlando or Daytona Beach economic development councils or chambers of commerce. But we’ll hope for the best. The Corvette museum is out in the middle of nowhere (Kentucky). We’ll hope the Mustang doesn’t suffer the same fate.
Headlines that didn’t work: Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
Redneck computer terms: “Modem,” as in how you got rid of your dandelions.
Words that should be words: This week’s installment is “Frust,” as in the small line of debris that refuses to be swept onto the dust pan and keeps backing a person across the room until he finally decides to give up and sweep it under the rug.
This column was originally published in the April 30, 1997 Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, Ello and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Pitcher plants grow along the grassy shoreline of a slough along the hiking trail that surrounds Bear Lake northwest of Baker, Florida. Image by Del Stone Jr
Unpaved paradise: Just an hour north of here, along State Road 4 between Baker and Munson, lies Bear Lake. It’s smack in the middle of the Blackwater River State Park.
You gotta see this place.
We took the hiking tour of the lake, a four-mile trek that leads you through primeval sloughs and climax pine forest and bogs of flesh-eating plants.
I kid you not. A highlight of the hike is the pitcher plant bog, where thousands of bug-devouring Tubes of Death sprout from the muck to how down on flies and mosquitoes.
The trail is busy with benches for the bushed, bat boxes for our leathery buddies, bridges over the boggy parts – but no bathrooms for the bladder-burdened (that’s what all those woods are for).
Get ready for some serious beauty. We tiptoed through a grotto of overhanging trees that shaded a trickling creek. Within were stunning growths of moss, ferns and an outcropping of lavender, orchid-like flowers.
The hike will take some time, especially if you’re a camera nut who’s trying to learn about f-stops and shutter speeds. But it puts you back in touch with what’s real.
No American Express: We were at a “Destin eatery” and that’s all I’ll say about where it happened.
My friend had the eggs Benedict. I munched a monstrous salad.
When we finished I whipped out my Visa card. The lady shook her head. “We don’t take ANY credit cards.”
A cold chill ran up my spine. I had a fiver. My friend had $5. The bill was $13. How many dishes could we wash to make up the shortfall?
Then I remembered my Emergency Stash in the glove box of the truck. Got it. Paid the bill and had enough change to leave a tip.
No credit cards?
Better have the defibrillators handy.
One of the perks of this job is I get to hang out with cool people. Last week, one of those people was Daily News columnist Julie Nichols, who accompanied me to Cracker Barrel, where we lamented our expanding waistlines – she as she munched, bird-like, at a salad, and I as I pounded down the Brownie Piet and Ice Cream.
It was a great evening. Julie is smart and engaging and funny, and she’s a writer’s writer. If you’re not reading her column, you should be.
But have the salad.
More coolness: Last week brought Tavel Bell nee Cowan and her navigator husband, Major Tom, back to the Emerald Coast for a visit. Tavel was a Daily News copy editor from whom I sponged travel adventures about the slopes at Lake Tahoe.
The recently relocated Wolf Woman and I joined them at the Donut Hole in Destin – Major Tom and I weaseled them into a monster cookie apiece, and they capitulated with barely a mumble about diets. I think Major Tom came back solely for those huge cookies.
Redneck computer terms: “Window,” as in a place in the truck to hang your guns.
Words that should be words: This week’s installment is “Elbonics,” as in: The actions of two people maneuvering for one armrest in a movie theater.
This column was published in the Wednesday, April 16, 1997 edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
On the way to Camp Do-Not we spotted this waterspout in the distance. Maybe you can see it in the red box. Or maybe I'm lying. By this time we were delerious with heat stroke because Dad refused to turn on the AC in the car because it dropped the gas mileage by 2 mpg. These days I run the car AC in the dead of winter with 8 inches of snow on the ground. Photo by Joyce Stone.
Sadly, it is time for us to end our idyllic week at Manatee Springs State Park and move on to another Campground from Unspoiled Hell.
In the 20 or so seconds it takes us to pack our belongings, I stop to reflect on the highlights of our visit:
(A) I found an opossum skull. Aside from satanic rituals, I could think of no practical use for it, but I kept it anyway. I now proudly display it in a cardboard box in the attic.
(B) Watching moths go up in little balls of fire in the kerosene lantern – an early, crude version of the electronic bug zapper.
(C) Picking up garbage the raccoons scattered during the night – the SAME garbage I picked up the day before, and the day before that, ad infinitum. This vicious cycle of scattering and picking up has been going on since the time Indians roamed the area and had their garbage scattered by raccoons. I think some of the garbage I picked up WAS Indian garbage.
As we depart, we wave a fond farewell to the Bobs, who have threatened to someday return to their home, if they can get Bob out of the lawn chair.
As we head south, despite my fervent desire that we turn north in the direction of home, we pass many fascinating sights. They were too expensive, so I don’t get to see them. But we stop at some of the less interesting sights, which include:
Reptile Land – This linchpin of the Florida tourism industry features, among other things, a caged duck that plays a piano. I am not kidding. You put a quarter in the slot and the duck uses its bill to bash out a tune worthy of any 10-year-old after $5,000 worth of lessons.
I also feel that Reptile Land sells a superior quality plastic alligator, and now one of those is on proud display with the opossum skull in the attic.
Weeki Wachee – I don’t actually see the show, but I use the bathroom in the lobby and I am impressed.
Miles and miles of dead orange groves – There they are in all their natural dead splendor, those famous Florida orange groves you hear are threatened every time the temperature plummets below 85. They are a stark reminder that Anita Bryant no longer lives in Florida.
We arrive at our new home, a campground on Sannibel Island. We call it “Camp Do-Not,” because everywhere you look is a sign telling you what you cannot do. We spend one night there, immobilized in our tent. Although the rules forbid it, we break camp and leave the next day.
We wend our way northeast, to the interior of Florida, where the humidity is always higher than the temperature, even inside most homeowners’ ovens, which few residents use because they find it less expensive and more convenient to do their cooking on the sidewalks.
There, we complete the final leg of our journey across the heart of darkness of Florida, and I promise that next week’s column will be the last I write about camping, at least until I run out of ideas again.
Next week: Satan, the devil goat.
This column was published in the Northwest Florida Daily News on June 9, 1988 and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Here are the continuing highlights of my camping adventures at Manatee Springs State Park, and elsewhere:
The coral snake: Just as the Indians did hundreds of years ago, we sally forth from our campsite in the morning to gather provisions, which means we invent an excuse to ride in the air-conditioned car to the Jiffy Mart to buy Twinkies. When we return, we are told that one of our party, having nothing better to do while we were gone, took an ax and chopped in half what appeared to be a coral snake, although it might have been one of the many harmless varieties of snakes which roam the campground, slither into your sleeping bag at night devour you in a single, 20-hour sitting.
When I examine the half of the snake that did not flee into the woods to kill again, I quickly remember the old rhyme about identifying coral snakes by their color stripes:
Red touch yellow,
Kill a fellow.
Red touch black,
Go ahead Jack
And try your luck, fool.
Yes, this is definitely a coral snake half. As we stand there congratulating ourselves on our deadly snake-killing prowess, it occurs to me that there is half a coral snake still out there somewhere, and it is probably angry, and maybe we should relocate our campsite to a safer location, such as the Econo-Lodge in Minneapolis.
Since there is nothing better to do until the after-dark woodlands “Star Wars” sound effects, I take the coral snake half and coil it at the door to the ladies’ restroom. For hours, I entertain myself by watching women emerge from the restroom and blithely tromp on the snake half. By now, an intact coral snake would have put itself out of its misery by biting itself.
The tick: The woodlands of Florida abound with insect life, as to the homes, places of business, hospitals and major theme parks of Florida. The entire state is a vast, writhing breeding ground for insect life, and Manatee Springs State Park is no exception. At night, we entertain ourselves by watching giant roaches crawl up the tent, secure in the knowledge that they will probably be stomped to death by wild hogs, or eaten by the Bobs.
One insect visitor to our campsite is a tick. For you camping beginners who do not know the difference between a tick and a Port-a-Potty, I should explain that a tick is a disease-carrying organism, just as every living thing on this planet is a disease-carrying organism, except Julie Andrews. Ticks attach themselves to you and suck your blood, just like television evangelists.
One of our party is bitten by this evil tick. We apply all the traditional folk remedies: touching the tick with a lighted match, spreading oil and peanut butter over its abdomen, bribing it with offers of its own syndicated talk show. By the time we get it out, our victim is ready to say to hell with everything and have the leg amputated.
This column was published in the June 2, 1988 edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image by Flickr user Greg Virtucio by way of a Creative Commons license. https://www.flickr.com/photos/gregvirtucio/
I opened into my personal computer file the other day and there, at the top of the list, was a short story with a message especially for me written above it. The message read: “Good news, Del.” A little farther down was written: “Del, I just knew this would make your day.” Tom Conner, our state editor, had left it for me.
The story was about the Cuban Death’s Head Cockroach. To quote The Associated Press: “The Cuban Death’s Head Cockroach, a three-inch, thumb-sized monster, has migrated from its native Caribbean to South Florida.”
That’s just great.
The story went on to say most of the 2,000 species of roaches already live in Florida, but the new roach claims all prizes for size.
Wonderful news. Clint Eastwood couldn’t have done as much to make my day.
You are reading the words of an adult male who is mortally terrified of cockroaches. I will let snakes crawl up the sleeves of my short, pick up insects of all description, touch assorted creatures slimy and horrible, but I cannot stand the thought of a roach coming near me, the thought of breathing the same air as a “three-inch, thumb-sized monster.” The minute bug experts begin describing new cockroaches with hyphenated words, you may look for me booking it to the next county.
Del turned on the light and something moved.
I have heard horror stories about cockroaches, and I have my own to tell, but none has ever involved a “three-inch monster,” though I would say some looked a strapping 6 feet in the paralyzingly dispassionate aspect of midnight.
Consider:
– A roach somehow gained entry to a sealed envelope and was mailed from Washington, D.C. to somewhere like Nebraska; I am certain the person who opened the letter must have had all of his suspicions about bureaucracy forever confirmed.
Mom vs. the snake around her neck.
– I once covered a town commission meeting that I thought would never end – until a giant Cro-Magnon roach scurried across the wall behind the commissioners. The place emptied in about 30 seconds. And I was the first one out.
– I was at a party when a palmetto bug – not a roach but about as close a relative to a roach as, say, a rat is to a squirrel – crawled across the ceiling above the food table. Our considerate hostess swatted it and that was that, until the next day when she informed me she had found a leg the size of a well-fed mastodon’s in the French onion dip. Had I eaten any of that?
Wild Kingdom at the golf course.
– Once, as I stepped into our outdoor utility room, a roach dropped from the ceiling, slipped down the sleeve of my tank top, crawled across my ribcage and, unbeknownst of me, dropped out of my shirt and vanished to parts unknown. When they found me, I had eaten myself into a coma.
– I was riding in a car when the driver suddenly shrieked and nearly ran us through a telephone pole. A roach, she screamed, had crawled across her foot. Then I screamed. One would have thought a swarm of killer bees had moved into the glove compartment, we were out of that car so fast.
– My premier roach story involves former Daily News reporter Steve Chew. One unforgettable Sunday night, Chew found a very large, very dead cockroach on the floor in our backshop. He appropriated said cockroach and hid it beneath my keychain in a way that I could not see it. As we got ready to leave, I reached across my desk and picked up the keychain. Perversely, the roach’s rigor-mortic leg hooked on my thumb. I raised my hand and the nightmarish thing dangled from it, penduluming back and forth, a torment to me even in death. A bolt of pure fright shot up my spine and I threw down the keys, strangling on a scream I couldn’t get to come out. Chew was paralyzed with laughter.
“Three-inch monsters” invading South Florida, eh. Something tells me my days in this state are numbered.
This column was originally published in the Playground Daily News in 1983 (est.) and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .