California Health Insurance Quotes and Blog

When California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard sold two individual child plans to a family in Ventura, he never would have guessed how a kaleidoscope could be the root of all evil. 

The Coakleys were refugees from Malibu Beach. When they moved to Ventura, it was difficult for them to fit in. Fred Coakley had been an actor, playing ghouls in zombie-filled horror flicks when he could get the parts; his wife Isabelle an ill-equipped socialite — lacked social skills. Their adorable children Tristan, age 6, and Annie, age 9, were chronically toy-deprived until a passive-aggressive Samaritan philanthropist donated a kaleidoscope for the children to play with. Prior to the children’s acquisition of the sinister toy, the philanthropist had also paid for three policies, a family plan and two individual plans for the kiddies – all purchased from California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard.

The Coakley children weren’t greedy like some children are. This turned out to be a liability, as they quietly shared the kaleidoscope, being utterly mesmerized by its ceaseless morphing colorful patterns – and in staring at the kaleidoscope in their obsessive-compulsive manner which was hereditary for any Coakley; their sweet little eyes became fixated in a cruel way. Strabismus, sometimes known as “cross-eyes” or in Isabelle Coakley’s crazed mind, “the double evil-eye times two,” set in. 

Fred and Isabelle noticed their children’s wandering eyes one night during a family séance. Isabelle became hysterical. “Why are you doing that kiddies?” she screamed, “Why are you giving your Ma the double evil-eye times two?” The children replied in eerie unison, voicing a chilling, sing-song cadenced mannerism reminiscent of some of their Da’s better films, “It’s the kaleidoscope me thinks!”

While Isabelle simply grabbed the nearest axe, Fred had the presence of mind to seek out emergency eye care, something to flush out strabismus when it was kaleidoscope-induced, preferably. A month later, the reunited family came by Matt Lockard’s office after taking the bus there. The children were wearing patches on their left eyes, the sinister ones. Matt was expecting the foursome, being a fan of Fred’s better undead impersonations and of course, being their trusted California Health Insurance agent, albeit by proxy.

“Nice patches,” Matt Lockard opined once the kiddies had ambled in, “Are they pirates today?”

When the children began sobbing, their feelings hurt; well-meaning Matt pulled a toy from a convenient drawer. It was, unfortunately, a kaleidoscope.

While giving her son a home haircut, Marta Higgins realized in an awful instant that she was cutting more flesh than hair. Luckily they had purchased an insurance plan from California Health Insurance Agent Matt Lockard.

She’d wanted to save money. Haircuts were getting expensive. Why not? Marta Higgins mused. Her six-year-old would be getting a home haircut. The boy was anything but pleased. “Mommy; I want to go to the real barbershop.” Too old to have a tantrum, he had one anyway. It didn’t make any difference. Eventually, he was sitting up in a kitchen chair. She had promised to give him a cookie afterwards.      

Chip was well-behaved from then on, trying to sit absolutely still. Marta had never cut hair before. Once she’d dreamed of becoming a stylist in a unisex salon, but that’s when she’d been just eight.  Still, how hard could it be?  After draping a towel over Chip’s chest and shoulders, she grabbed a comb and scissors and just started cutting. Running the comb through her boy’s hair, she instinctively used it as a guide. “Mommy is doing a fine job,” she said to her son, as if to reassure him.

“I wish I could go to the barbershop,” the boy blurted.   

In fact, she was close to finishing, when the phone rang.  Distracted, suddenly she noticed when Chip started screaming that it wasn’t just hair she was cutting. Chip screamed again and was soon sobbing. Was that a piece of his earlobe that she now grasped in the pinching grip of her scissors? Blood came pouring out of the wound, and began running down his face and neck.

“Oops,” she said, “my bad.” She realized how remarkably calm she was.  It was a good thing she kept the phone number of her California Health Insurance Agent handy on the fridge. 

Matt Lockard came on the phone. “Yes?”

When Marta explained what had happened, Matt advised her to save the ear lobe, “Don’t lose it, whatever you do!” he said, rather loudly, to the voice on the phone, “Head right now to the nearest hospital ER, don’t waste a minute!”

“But my friend Sally called. I need to call her back. What if she has an emergency?” Marta said.

“YOU have your own emergency!” Matt screamed, in concert with Chip, who was still screaming.

“It will be expensive!” Marta howled.

“Don’t worry, you’re covered!” Matt explained. 

Thereafter, Chip always hid whenever his mom mentioned the word “hair,” but except for what the boy would forever refer to as his “Quasimodo” scar, he eventually recovered.

Prominent California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard delivers testimonial for hero, who recognized the signs of a heart attack in the nick of time to save the life of an inebriated centenarian who happened to be the agent’s beloved great-great-grandmother.

Graeme Greeme was first and foremost a designated driver on that fateful New Year’s Eve. Flossie L. Taylor, age 106, had been imbibing single malt Scotch for the simple reason that she still could, and was “drunk as a skunk,” in her own slurred words, as she prepared to get behind the wheel of her silver Porsche for the drive home at 10:45 p.m. He’d been hired for the expressed purpose of “driving Miss Flossie,” as she was now called, but aside from the ancient lady’s typical alcohol-induced stupor, Mr. Greeme noticed something seriously amiss. Although her lightheadedness was less than obvious under the circumstances, all of the other signs, the cold sweats, vomiting, chest discomfort, neck pain, and shortness of breath – were linked inexorably to Poe’s Telltale Heart, as well as Flossie’s. “I’m having a heart attack,” the ancient Miss Taylor managed. Her words were the giveaway. Instead of “home,” their destination became the nearest hospital emergency room. The expensive car became a silver bullet. Graeme Greene’s prompt action saved Miss Flossie’s life. Her words, although uttered through spurting phlegm-coated bubbles of fine whisky, had proved prophetic.

At the Last Lutheran Church of Oxnard, her great-great-grandson, Matt Lockard, who happened to be a California Health Insurance agent with an office in Ventura, spoke a few words in recognition of Graeme Greeme’s selfless and timely act. Lockard’s voice, a slender baritone, was choked with emotion. “Tonight we are honoring a hero. Not only did this man save my great-great grandmother’s life by recognizing the signs of a heart attack and swiftly getting her to the nearest ER where she was thankfully covered due to a Medicare Advantage policy that she’d purchased from me many years ago, but he also did it safely while traveling at a high rate of speed through city traffic in that death trap meant for the racetrack that she owns.” He flashed his beloved ancient relative a withering look, but as usual she gazed back at her younger relative with a disconcerting centenarian’s smirk. Still, waves of applause reverberated through the church. As for Mr. Graeme Greeme, he smiled a hero’s grin, knowing that it was all part of “driving Miss Flossie.”