End of Part 1: Arbuckle picked up his fork and twirled the utensil between his fingers. Pineapple Upside Down cake was his favorite. The schemer prided himself on his uncanny ability to deceive others. He also felt everyone lived somewhere beneath his standards. Journal entries he logged on his Dell indicated rants about all classes of people regardless of their social status: Jews, Blacks, Gays, and Whites were all targets of Arbuckle's many tangents. With each passing day, Most Likely To Succeed grew more into a powder keg ready to explode.



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Thursday. April 11. 2002. The Bayne-Jones Army Community Hospital, at 1585 3rd Street, was far removed from the chaos that saw more than 200,000 marchers in Caracas, Venezuela descend upon the Presidential Palace of Miraflores and demand Hugo Chavis resign. Within the confines of the pastel blue walls of the Fort Polk Delivery Room, the Army brat David Taysom Arbuckle arrived on the scene red, wrinkled, scared, and crying. Nothing spectacular occurred to celebrate his birth. There was no fanfare, no colorful balloons filled the air, nor did any big brass bands trumpet his arrival. As the mothers of newborns are wont to do, and he being her first, Phyllis Arbuckle held her bundle of joy to her breast. The crib lizard was glad to get what she offered.

A big proponent of statistics, the neonate's father took a mesmerized glance at the little squawker and commented, "Sure is a beaut. I wonder what his chosen career path'll be?"

Unsettled, Phyllis Arbuckle responded with a malicious gaze that would melt butter in a frozen saucepan. The tone caught her husband unaware, "Now C.W., little David can grow up to be whatever he wants to be." She paused to catch her breath then continued, "So, don't go trying to persuade him to be a doctor, or to follow in your footsteps and be a soldier, or even a belligerent pacifist for that matter." Lounging back on the bed, she confessed, "Dang, I wish I had some Demerol. The little bugger was a shipload to squeeze out."

Carlyle Arbuckle rose out of his chair. Silently, he shuffled his boots across the linoleum floor and closed the room door. He turned back to face his wife with a broad smile on his devious face, then extracted a brown bottle from his uniform shirt and said, "I snuck some Georgia Home Boys past the nurses' station. Them sleepy-eyed Saint Bernards don't even know what time of day it is."

With a burning desire, Phyllis Arbuckle exclaimed to her enabler, "Quaaludes, again! Let me at 'em."

Soon thereafter, the plump bowling ball Nancy Davis brought the Captain's wife a fresh pitcher of ice water and placed the container on the bedside table. The red and white pinafored Candy Striper casually mentioned, "The sweet pea is the recognized flower of the month for April. And, babies are so adorably sweet. Aren't they?"

Phyllis Arbuckle gently cooed to her bundle of blissful pleasure, "Sweet Pea. That'd be a real good nickname for momma to call her little tyke. And, it fits you to a T. Yes it does."

The baby flashed a toothless grin back at her.

Carlyle Arbuckle knew he had a fiery Aries on his hands through and through. Visions of grandeur, like The Nutcracker's sugar plums, pirouetted in a ballet turn on the pointed toes of one foot in his head. The proud papa studied his son and swore, "I already see David's active and confident personality shining forth. And, like all those born under the ram, he's going to be a dedicated stargazer just like me. I tell you, it runs in the family."

Phyllis Arbuckle felt being the diamond the infant was amplified David's positive effects. She swallowed the quaaludes her husband offered her earlier and stated, "I only hope the pushiness and stubbornness all Aries are known for don't develop in him later. I couldn't handle that."

"You'll do just fine, Phyllis," her spouse assured her.

Phyllis Arbuckle's fears played out as her precious stone grew into the impulsive and aggressive toddler he became, and the fearless risk-taker his first decade of life endured. David was also very emotional. He often held his feelings close to the surface, especially while the natural athlete played soccer, baseball, and football.

Once, with a hypothermic temperament, characterized by a positive mood and disposition, to amuse himself, David deliberately kicked the opposing goalkeeper in the nose with the ball drawing blood. His teammates laughed. David knew the consequences would be a trip to the garage to explain his actions to his dad. Another character flaw developed as well. Ambitious, and tenacious, the chatterbox almost always tried to steal the spotlight for his own purposes.

(To Be Continued:)