Lists
Things I have thought of posting as my face book status but haven’t:
I miss you
Is wholesome like lentil soup, comforting like a fireplace, and as sexy as a sailor on meth.
I love bad Swedish techno.
Run!! This is turning us all into voyeurs and narcissists.
Stop taking all those stupid tests, you could be doing something with your life and nobody cares what the hell your results were so DON”T JUST DON”T
BEN MILLER!!!!
Things I have lied about recently:
A list of things I have never posted as a face book status.
Things I have quit doing in the past year:
Smoking
Getting drunk
You
Purchasing shampoo
Playing pool
Rationalizing
Repressing
Blue things in my bedroom:
Sheets
Pillow cases
Tall glass filled with coffee
Blue jeans on floor
Lid to a jar of peanuts
Book covers
Numbers from today
2 seconds left when Farve completed winning pass
2 miles jogged
3 pieces of pita bread eaten with hummus
1unfinished cup of coffee
4 bags of garbage taken off the back porch
6 phone calls
2 unanswered
1shower
1time asking myself where my day off went, and that time is right now, seriously, it’s five?
5the time it was when I realized Sunday was largely squandered.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
a day in the life of unemployment.
The alarm went off at 5:30 same as it had every day for the last four and a half years. Dan rolls away from his wife and slaps it off. His wife shifts and murmurs, “Mmmmm, good day at the office honey.” Dan showers, shaves, and puts on a five thousand dollar suit. He is out the door by six.
He drives an hour out of town to a roadside diner. Over a breakfast of an egg white and tomato omelet and a pot of coffee he browses the wanted adds. There seemed to be less in them every day. He finds himself circling jobs offering less than a tenth of what he used to make. The coffee was eating a hole in his stomach. He steps outside to have a cigarette. Six months unemployed, two college funds eliminated, one luxury ski trip taken, one BMW purchased, one wife and two children kept from knowing anything was wrong. He smokes quick, strong drags helping his chest loosen instead of tighten. He finishes one and lights another. Pulls out his cell phone and looks at his brother’s number as he does every day. Looks at it, shakes his head and puts the phone away.
The afternoon is spent cold calling. Begging. Chain smoking.
At three he looks at his watch, shakes his head and gets in the car. You tried, he tells him self, his stomach sick. He feels like he is going to throw up. The world seems far away and unreal. He looks at the buildings as he drive by. Forty two miles of road back into the city. Thirty five steps from where he parks his car to the front door of the bar. Six dollars for the first gin and tonic. Two drinks until he can acknowledge the bartender. Three drinks until he smiles and lets out a deep breath.
“Hi honey.”
He winks at the bar tender.
“I have to pull another late one.”
He takes another sip of his drink
“I know, I wish I could be.”
“I miss them, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“Yup, we should be wrapping the project in a few.”
“Tell them I love them, I love you too, don’t wait up.”
He drives an hour out of town to a roadside diner. Over a breakfast of an egg white and tomato omelet and a pot of coffee he browses the wanted adds. There seemed to be less in them every day. He finds himself circling jobs offering less than a tenth of what he used to make. The coffee was eating a hole in his stomach. He steps outside to have a cigarette. Six months unemployed, two college funds eliminated, one luxury ski trip taken, one BMW purchased, one wife and two children kept from knowing anything was wrong. He smokes quick, strong drags helping his chest loosen instead of tighten. He finishes one and lights another. Pulls out his cell phone and looks at his brother’s number as he does every day. Looks at it, shakes his head and puts the phone away.
The afternoon is spent cold calling. Begging. Chain smoking.
At three he looks at his watch, shakes his head and gets in the car. You tried, he tells him self, his stomach sick. He feels like he is going to throw up. The world seems far away and unreal. He looks at the buildings as he drive by. Forty two miles of road back into the city. Thirty five steps from where he parks his car to the front door of the bar. Six dollars for the first gin and tonic. Two drinks until he can acknowledge the bartender. Three drinks until he smiles and lets out a deep breath.
“Hi honey.”
He winks at the bar tender.
“I have to pull another late one.”
He takes another sip of his drink
“I know, I wish I could be.”
“I miss them, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“Yup, we should be wrapping the project in a few.”
“Tell them I love them, I love you too, don’t wait up.”
the barn as it looks to the father who's son has just died in a war
The barn is bright and sharp. The red paint shines like the surface is metal. It looks close, detailed, as if through a microscope. On the other hand, maybe it isn’t there at all, maybe it just looks like silence. There are shingles on the roof, big cedar ones in strait rows. They are ready to march. The lines seem to recede into the distance. It is a trick of perspective; all lines coming together at one point on the horizon. The barn door is rolled half way open. It looks dark inside. If you walked into the barn you would see slats of light coming through the cracks. You would see the dust dancing in the light. If you closed the door you would never know the dust was alive inside. These things are for another time. Right now you only look at chipped paint.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
what's in a name part 3, inspired by Terry's love of smurple
Tina flounced into the beauty salon, dragging three poodles behind her. They yipped and back peddled at the overwhelming smells of perfumes and shampoos. Andre looked up from the nest of hair he was doing an Edward Scissors—hands impression on.
“honey, those dogs are just too cute, now get them outside, get get get. We have standards here at Vibrant Colors, stop looking at me with your jaw on the floor and go, go go go girl.
Tina tied the dogs to a parking meter and came back inside. “I’ll be with you in just five minutes darling, take a magazine, entertain yourself” Tina nodded and picked up a coppy of Rolling Stone. There was a giant picture of the Smurple Bandits on the cover. Tina sighed contentedly.
“Smurpule,” she murmured softly to herself.
“Tina, girl, get your head out of the clouds and get in this chair, it’s hair time, now what color do we want our highlights today.?”
The looked at each other for a moment then they both burst out laughing. “SMURPLE!” they shouted in unison and started jumping up an down and clapping their hands. Andre got to work on her hair
“Did you hear smurple creek is polluted?”
“Oh no?”
“Ya, Eddie was talking about it down at Smurples Pub, I guess he caught a fish that was barely smurple.”
“Smurple,” they both said emotionally.
The door opened and a large women in a green track suit entered. She was huffing and grabbing anything for support, her face was bright red. “Do you do highlights?” she yelled at Andre.
“Girl, you know I do, calm yourself. What color are we looking for.”
“Green, I need green highlights right now.”
Andre and Tina both froze, looks of horror on their faces.
“Is that, is that, some sort of joke?” Tina asked.
The Women looked confused, “No, I need green highlights.”
Tina stood up. Andre handed her a pair of scissors. “Smurple,” they said together.
“What?”
They locked hands, “Smurple,” they started walking towards the women, “Smurple,” they raised there scissors, “Smurple!”
“honey, those dogs are just too cute, now get them outside, get get get. We have standards here at Vibrant Colors, stop looking at me with your jaw on the floor and go, go go go girl.
Tina tied the dogs to a parking meter and came back inside. “I’ll be with you in just five minutes darling, take a magazine, entertain yourself” Tina nodded and picked up a coppy of Rolling Stone. There was a giant picture of the Smurple Bandits on the cover. Tina sighed contentedly.
“Smurpule,” she murmured softly to herself.
“Tina, girl, get your head out of the clouds and get in this chair, it’s hair time, now what color do we want our highlights today.?”
The looked at each other for a moment then they both burst out laughing. “SMURPLE!” they shouted in unison and started jumping up an down and clapping their hands. Andre got to work on her hair
“Did you hear smurple creek is polluted?”
“Oh no?”
“Ya, Eddie was talking about it down at Smurples Pub, I guess he caught a fish that was barely smurple.”
“Smurple,” they both said emotionally.
The door opened and a large women in a green track suit entered. She was huffing and grabbing anything for support, her face was bright red. “Do you do highlights?” she yelled at Andre.
“Girl, you know I do, calm yourself. What color are we looking for.”
“Green, I need green highlights right now.”
Andre and Tina both froze, looks of horror on their faces.
“Is that, is that, some sort of joke?” Tina asked.
The Women looked confused, “No, I need green highlights.”
Tina stood up. Andre handed her a pair of scissors. “Smurple,” they said together.
“What?”
They locked hands, “Smurple,” they started walking towards the women, “Smurple,” they raised there scissors, “Smurple!”
Trauma
“How can I help you, sir, SIR, how can I help you? Sir are you ok? Oh god, help, somebody help! I think he’s having a heart attack. Myrtal struggles to pull her three hundred fifty pounds over the counter at the D.M.V. her floral print pant suit is bunching up around her giant calves.
The old man had claspes on the ground. His fishing hat skidds into the corner by the door disturbing dust that had not moved in months. His head bounces off of the black and white tiled floor like his neck is made out of elastic. Down, up, and down again. There is a dull thunk and a line of blood appears trickling down the old mans ear.
A line of heads is turning in unison to watch, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. A child drops a red Lego from his hand instead of placing it into his mouth.
Myrtal rolls over the top of the counter. Ripples of fat in motion move up and down her body. All she can think about is her baby. That one night when her brother in law had a little to much to drink but you couldn’t tell, every body said afterwards they couldn’t tell, they didn’t know. He was tossing her little baby up and down, her little Trina, and Trina was laughing, and oh god.
The blood is flowing out of the olds man ear and collecting in his thin white hair. The man is laying flat out on his back. His eyes are wide open.
John Hughes jumps up thinking of the women sitting three seats to his left and how he could impress her. He had noticed her as soon as he walked in, she reminded him of a coworker he had always had a crush on. He had been looking at her legs while pretending to read a Grisham novel. She is gagging. The sight of blood has always made her gag, except in vampire movies for some reason. She doesn’t care that he is jumping to help. Neither does the old man. He is dead.
The old man had claspes on the ground. His fishing hat skidds into the corner by the door disturbing dust that had not moved in months. His head bounces off of the black and white tiled floor like his neck is made out of elastic. Down, up, and down again. There is a dull thunk and a line of blood appears trickling down the old mans ear.
A line of heads is turning in unison to watch, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. A child drops a red Lego from his hand instead of placing it into his mouth.
Myrtal rolls over the top of the counter. Ripples of fat in motion move up and down her body. All she can think about is her baby. That one night when her brother in law had a little to much to drink but you couldn’t tell, every body said afterwards they couldn’t tell, they didn’t know. He was tossing her little baby up and down, her little Trina, and Trina was laughing, and oh god.
The blood is flowing out of the olds man ear and collecting in his thin white hair. The man is laying flat out on his back. His eyes are wide open.
John Hughes jumps up thinking of the women sitting three seats to his left and how he could impress her. He had noticed her as soon as he walked in, she reminded him of a coworker he had always had a crush on. He had been looking at her legs while pretending to read a Grisham novel. She is gagging. The sight of blood has always made her gag, except in vampire movies for some reason. She doesn’t care that he is jumping to help. Neither does the old man. He is dead.
“Birth of a Story in an Hour or Less” (way longer than an hour)
A disco ball is set up in the high school gymnasium. Abba is blasting over the speakers, “dancing queen, only seventeen.” The gym is filled with freshmen, a few of them dancing, most of them segregated by gender and looking at the other groups suspiciously. Tom and Shane are by the punch bowl.
“She’s looking at you.”
“Nah uh, really?”
“Ya, she wants to have your babies.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious. She was telling me at lunch, she wants you to make her pregnant.”
Shane tried to Punch tom in the arm but Tom jumped back in time. They laughed loud and spared back and forth. They looked at the girls in quick undercover glances.
“Look at Billy and Sue.” Tom nodded his curly ginger head at the middle of the gym. Billy and sue were locked together in that way only young teenagers can seem to do. They swayed back and forth like desperate automatons. Shane and Tom watched with admiration.
“Did he just, did he just, um, he just asked her to dance?” Shane looked over at Lisa nelson. Lisa was wearing a Robbins Egg blue dress, strapless. It went down just past her knees. She was tossing her head around and laughing with Kara.
“Ya numb nuts, that’s how it works.”
“So go do it then, if it’s so easy.”
“I don’t feel like it now, I might later.”
“Wuss.”
“So you do it.”
Shane looked at Lisa again. Lisa looked at Shane and smiled. Shane raised his arm half way like he was going to waive but he didn’t and it just kind of hung there. Lisa turned to Kara and giggled. Shane turned red.
“I’m going to.” He clenched his jaw and stood very straight. He was six feet tall and looked like a stork in a baggy suit. He tried to swagger a little as he walked towards the girls. He gulped. Tom gulped. Tom took of after him.
“Yo.”
Shane turned and waited.
“I’m coming too, I’m going to ask Kara.
The girls pretended not to watch them walking over.
***
“Are you sure it was him though?”
“Ya, I mean, who else would it be?”
“But did you see him do it?” Tom asked. He and Shane were sitting at Shane’s kitchen table. The kitchen lights are dimmed and the other lights in the apartment are off. You can barely see the orange shag carpeting in the living room or the scar face poster that hangs above the T.V. they lean in across the table and speak softly.
“No.”
“So you’re not sure it was him.”
“Who else would it be?” Shane takes a swig off a bottle of Canadian Club, grimaces, and takes a sip of his beer. The table is littered with empty cans of Pabst. Shane has a beard and is dressed in jeans and a flannel work shirt. Tom’s orange hair is cut short. He wears the remnants of a suit. The jacket is tossed over the couch; the tie is hanging off the kitchen faucet.
“I don’t know, I’m just saying we don’t have conclusive proof.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t, you have circumstantial evidence and a personal bias influencing you.” Tom leans back as he says this and starts to roll up his sleeves, he has put on seventy five pounds since high school and his face is round and red.
“What are you, on law and order? I got the proof I need, what more do you want?”
“Look I can think of at least three other people it could have been.”
“Oh ya, who?”
“Well James could have done it-“
“James didn’t do it.” Shane cuts him off.
“He could have.”
“No he couldn’t, he doesn’t have the balls.”
“I’m saying he had opportunity.”
“And I’m saying it doesn’t matter.” Shane’s voice is getting louder. He takes another swig of whiskey. Tom takes the bottle from him and has a sip.
“Look, I’m trying to think about this logically, you’re getting all worked up and you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’d like to break his face.”
“I know.”
“I’d like to go all hulk on his ass and just fucking rage stomp him.”
Tom laughs a little, “Dude, just chill, we’re gonna think this one through.”
“Oh, I’m thinking.”
“First we get a list of everybody who had opportunity”
“That’s dumb”
“Dude, just shut up for a second, then we figure out who had motive.”
“We know who had motive, and when I see that fucker I’m gonna go all wolverine and freaking claws are gonna pop outa my fists and I’m gonna slice his face off.”
They both start laughing uproariously.
“Oh my god dude, you are wasted.” Tom is sweating; there is a bead of moisture hanging off the end of his nose. Shane has been watching it without paying any attention to it for most of the night. He looks Tom in the eye and grins.
“You’re wasted”
“No dude, you are really trashed.” Shane tosses and empty can at Tom who tries to catch it. He misses and it lands with a clank on the wood floor. He laughs. Shane doesn’t.
“I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I’m sorry dude.” Tom has instantly stopped laughing.
“I’m gonna kill that fucker.”
“I know you are, I got your back man.”
“Ya you do, I fuckin love you man, who needs that bitch, right?”
“You don’t need her.”
“I love her dude.”
“You don’t need her, she was a bitch, remember that, you’re better off without her.”
“Don’t talk about her that way, I’ll punch you goddamn face in, she was a classy lady, and I love her dude, I really do”.
“I know man, I know you do.”
“Lets go to her house, I gotta tell her, I gotta tell her right now.” Shane stands up, he sways, then grabs the kitchen counter for balance. Tom is blinking slowly.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I love her so much.”
“I know you do.”
“I gotta call her, dude, let me barrow you’re phone.”
“You’re drunk.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I regret everything in the morning.”
“Jesus.” Tom looks morose.
“I mean when she was there it didn’t matter how much everything else sucked, yunno?”
“You’re just drunk, you always get depressed when you get too drunk.” Tom glares at Shane as if he blames him for this.
“No man, I always get too drunk when I get depressed.”
“Oh man, that is so true.”
“Right? let me barrow your phone.”
“No, I mean that is really true.”
“let me use your phone.”
“Dude, did you hear what I said, I’m trying to tell what you said.” Tom starts laughing.
“Would you just give me your god damn phone?”
“Not a good idea.”
Shane nods, “Ok tell me what I’m gonna do when I see him.”
“You are gonna go all Darth Vader on him, fucking start choking him from across the room, and then, bzzzzzzzzzt, you pull out the light saber and you tell that fucker you’re his father.”
“Ya I do, wait, what, why the fuck would I tell him I’m his father?”
“Oh man, I am drunk.” Tom closes one eye.
“You are wasted dude.”
“I gotta pass out.”
“I gotta call her.”
“Dude, just shut up with that, I feel Ill.” Tom pushes bear cans out of the way and lays his head on the table.
“You gonna puke?”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’d like to puke all over his face.”
“Oh god.”
“I’d like to puke all over his face and then tell him I’m his fucking father, right man?”
“I am way to drunk.”
“Blaaaggggghhhhhh, how you like that, oh, and by the way, I AM YOUR FATHER.”
“Don’t make that noise.”
“You feel alright dude?”
“I gotta pass out”
“You should drink some water first man, your gonna have a hangover.”
“I know.”
“Hey dude?”
“Ya?”
“Thanks for coming over.”
“Anytime dude.” Tom stands up to hug Shane, pukes on his shoes, and passes out on the kitchen floor.
***
A tall women in a black jacket walks up the hill in the cemetery holding a baby. A stocky man with red hair walks beside her. He has an umbrella and is trying to keep any of the drizzle from touching his four month old child. He is trying to stay slightly in front of his wife and is doing an awkward step and turn to see where he is going and see the baby’s face at the same time.
“Tom, cut it out, a little rain isn’t going to kill her.’
Tom doesn’t answer but slows down to walk beside her.
“Oh god, Tom, I didn’t mean to say that today.”
“No, it’s fine.”
There is a group of about thirty mourners gathered at a grave at the top of the hill. The grave is under a tree and Tom briefly wonders if trees have a hard time surviving in cemeteries with all their roots under attack. He scans the faces intently. There are dark circles under his eyes; his face is thinner than it was five years ago.
“Is he here?” His wife asks.
“No, but he will be.”
“Tom, maybe he won’t be.”
“No, he wouldn’t miss this.”
“He wasn’t at the funeral.”
“No.”
“No one’s heard from him in years.”
“He’ll be back for this, he left because of her, he’ll be back because of her.”
“What was she like?”
“Beautiful, I guess.”
“No, what was she like?”
Tom thought about it. “Manipulative, insecure, sad, she really fucked him up.”
“Ya, you said.”
“I still can’t believe he married her.”
They got quite as they joined the group of mourners. Lisa’s parent stood by the minister. They were stooped and subdued. The minister was smiling that patented smile that says I’m empathizing one hundred percent; there is nothing happy or humorous about this. There was a wreath of roses on the casket, looking bright and shiney because of the drizzle. Tom watched tiny rivers of water run off the pile of dirt and into grave. His wife wondered about the food at funerals, people will spend twelve grand on a casket but serve plastic ham just to save a few bucks, something about that’s not right. Something about tom wasn’t right today either. She squeezed his arm.
There was the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Everyone turned to look. Tom didn’t, he smiled.
“She’s looking at you.”
“Nah uh, really?”
“Ya, she wants to have your babies.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious. She was telling me at lunch, she wants you to make her pregnant.”
Shane tried to Punch tom in the arm but Tom jumped back in time. They laughed loud and spared back and forth. They looked at the girls in quick undercover glances.
“Look at Billy and Sue.” Tom nodded his curly ginger head at the middle of the gym. Billy and sue were locked together in that way only young teenagers can seem to do. They swayed back and forth like desperate automatons. Shane and Tom watched with admiration.
“Did he just, did he just, um, he just asked her to dance?” Shane looked over at Lisa nelson. Lisa was wearing a Robbins Egg blue dress, strapless. It went down just past her knees. She was tossing her head around and laughing with Kara.
“Ya numb nuts, that’s how it works.”
“So go do it then, if it’s so easy.”
“I don’t feel like it now, I might later.”
“Wuss.”
“So you do it.”
Shane looked at Lisa again. Lisa looked at Shane and smiled. Shane raised his arm half way like he was going to waive but he didn’t and it just kind of hung there. Lisa turned to Kara and giggled. Shane turned red.
“I’m going to.” He clenched his jaw and stood very straight. He was six feet tall and looked like a stork in a baggy suit. He tried to swagger a little as he walked towards the girls. He gulped. Tom gulped. Tom took of after him.
“Yo.”
Shane turned and waited.
“I’m coming too, I’m going to ask Kara.
The girls pretended not to watch them walking over.
***
“Are you sure it was him though?”
“Ya, I mean, who else would it be?”
“But did you see him do it?” Tom asked. He and Shane were sitting at Shane’s kitchen table. The kitchen lights are dimmed and the other lights in the apartment are off. You can barely see the orange shag carpeting in the living room or the scar face poster that hangs above the T.V. they lean in across the table and speak softly.
“No.”
“So you’re not sure it was him.”
“Who else would it be?” Shane takes a swig off a bottle of Canadian Club, grimaces, and takes a sip of his beer. The table is littered with empty cans of Pabst. Shane has a beard and is dressed in jeans and a flannel work shirt. Tom’s orange hair is cut short. He wears the remnants of a suit. The jacket is tossed over the couch; the tie is hanging off the kitchen faucet.
“I don’t know, I’m just saying we don’t have conclusive proof.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t, you have circumstantial evidence and a personal bias influencing you.” Tom leans back as he says this and starts to roll up his sleeves, he has put on seventy five pounds since high school and his face is round and red.
“What are you, on law and order? I got the proof I need, what more do you want?”
“Look I can think of at least three other people it could have been.”
“Oh ya, who?”
“Well James could have done it-“
“James didn’t do it.” Shane cuts him off.
“He could have.”
“No he couldn’t, he doesn’t have the balls.”
“I’m saying he had opportunity.”
“And I’m saying it doesn’t matter.” Shane’s voice is getting louder. He takes another swig of whiskey. Tom takes the bottle from him and has a sip.
“Look, I’m trying to think about this logically, you’re getting all worked up and you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’d like to break his face.”
“I know.”
“I’d like to go all hulk on his ass and just fucking rage stomp him.”
Tom laughs a little, “Dude, just chill, we’re gonna think this one through.”
“Oh, I’m thinking.”
“First we get a list of everybody who had opportunity”
“That’s dumb”
“Dude, just shut up for a second, then we figure out who had motive.”
“We know who had motive, and when I see that fucker I’m gonna go all wolverine and freaking claws are gonna pop outa my fists and I’m gonna slice his face off.”
They both start laughing uproariously.
“Oh my god dude, you are wasted.” Tom is sweating; there is a bead of moisture hanging off the end of his nose. Shane has been watching it without paying any attention to it for most of the night. He looks Tom in the eye and grins.
“You’re wasted”
“No dude, you are really trashed.” Shane tosses and empty can at Tom who tries to catch it. He misses and it lands with a clank on the wood floor. He laughs. Shane doesn’t.
“I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I’m sorry dude.” Tom has instantly stopped laughing.
“I’m gonna kill that fucker.”
“I know you are, I got your back man.”
“Ya you do, I fuckin love you man, who needs that bitch, right?”
“You don’t need her.”
“I love her dude.”
“You don’t need her, she was a bitch, remember that, you’re better off without her.”
“Don’t talk about her that way, I’ll punch you goddamn face in, she was a classy lady, and I love her dude, I really do”.
“I know man, I know you do.”
“Lets go to her house, I gotta tell her, I gotta tell her right now.” Shane stands up, he sways, then grabs the kitchen counter for balance. Tom is blinking slowly.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I love her so much.”
“I know you do.”
“I gotta call her, dude, let me barrow you’re phone.”
“You’re drunk.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I regret everything in the morning.”
“Jesus.” Tom looks morose.
“I mean when she was there it didn’t matter how much everything else sucked, yunno?”
“You’re just drunk, you always get depressed when you get too drunk.” Tom glares at Shane as if he blames him for this.
“No man, I always get too drunk when I get depressed.”
“Oh man, that is so true.”
“Right? let me barrow your phone.”
“No, I mean that is really true.”
“let me use your phone.”
“Dude, did you hear what I said, I’m trying to tell what you said.” Tom starts laughing.
“Would you just give me your god damn phone?”
“Not a good idea.”
Shane nods, “Ok tell me what I’m gonna do when I see him.”
“You are gonna go all Darth Vader on him, fucking start choking him from across the room, and then, bzzzzzzzzzt, you pull out the light saber and you tell that fucker you’re his father.”
“Ya I do, wait, what, why the fuck would I tell him I’m his father?”
“Oh man, I am drunk.” Tom closes one eye.
“You are wasted dude.”
“I gotta pass out.”
“I gotta call her.”
“Dude, just shut up with that, I feel Ill.” Tom pushes bear cans out of the way and lays his head on the table.
“You gonna puke?”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’d like to puke all over his face.”
“Oh god.”
“I’d like to puke all over his face and then tell him I’m his fucking father, right man?”
“I am way to drunk.”
“Blaaaggggghhhhhh, how you like that, oh, and by the way, I AM YOUR FATHER.”
“Don’t make that noise.”
“You feel alright dude?”
“I gotta pass out”
“You should drink some water first man, your gonna have a hangover.”
“I know.”
“Hey dude?”
“Ya?”
“Thanks for coming over.”
“Anytime dude.” Tom stands up to hug Shane, pukes on his shoes, and passes out on the kitchen floor.
***
A tall women in a black jacket walks up the hill in the cemetery holding a baby. A stocky man with red hair walks beside her. He has an umbrella and is trying to keep any of the drizzle from touching his four month old child. He is trying to stay slightly in front of his wife and is doing an awkward step and turn to see where he is going and see the baby’s face at the same time.
“Tom, cut it out, a little rain isn’t going to kill her.’
Tom doesn’t answer but slows down to walk beside her.
“Oh god, Tom, I didn’t mean to say that today.”
“No, it’s fine.”
There is a group of about thirty mourners gathered at a grave at the top of the hill. The grave is under a tree and Tom briefly wonders if trees have a hard time surviving in cemeteries with all their roots under attack. He scans the faces intently. There are dark circles under his eyes; his face is thinner than it was five years ago.
“Is he here?” His wife asks.
“No, but he will be.”
“Tom, maybe he won’t be.”
“No, he wouldn’t miss this.”
“He wasn’t at the funeral.”
“No.”
“No one’s heard from him in years.”
“He’ll be back for this, he left because of her, he’ll be back because of her.”
“What was she like?”
“Beautiful, I guess.”
“No, what was she like?”
Tom thought about it. “Manipulative, insecure, sad, she really fucked him up.”
“Ya, you said.”
“I still can’t believe he married her.”
They got quite as they joined the group of mourners. Lisa’s parent stood by the minister. They were stooped and subdued. The minister was smiling that patented smile that says I’m empathizing one hundred percent; there is nothing happy or humorous about this. There was a wreath of roses on the casket, looking bright and shiney because of the drizzle. Tom watched tiny rivers of water run off the pile of dirt and into grave. His wife wondered about the food at funerals, people will spend twelve grand on a casket but serve plastic ham just to save a few bucks, something about that’s not right. Something about tom wasn’t right today either. She squeezed his arm.
There was the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Everyone turned to look. Tom didn’t, he smiled.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
week three. the begining of a quest
Billy was awake before the sun came up. He looked out of his new bedroom window at the barn. It was huge, peeling red paint and a sagging roof. He looked at the tree branches, cracked spider legs scraping against the side of it. He hated the country. Why did his parents have to move? There were noises all the time out here. Not like the soothing drone of traffic in the city that put him to sleep at night. These were weird noises, quite bleating and scrapings, Creepy bleating and scrapings.
The first day of school would start in a few hours. A new school, with new kids. He would never tell his mom this, no matter how many times she asked, but Billy missed Sam. Sam had lived across the street since before Billy could remember. Sam had three older sisters and two fat parents who laughed a lot. Chris and Jill, they had said, call us by our first names ‘cause we aint no mister or missus. Billy would go over to there white stucco house with vines on the walls every day after school. They would trade baseball cards; they would build forts in the back yard.
Billy looked out of the window and swallowed. He didn’t want to cry. He was in fifth grade, fifth grade boys don’t cry, even if they really really want to. 6:45. Mom will be awake soon. Then breakfast, then, Billy swallowed again.
The barn had one window. It was centered right above the big double door and it didn’t have any shutters. It looked a little like there was a greenish light coming from it. Billy looked a little closer. Yes, there was definitely a greenish light coming from it. Probably some weird piece of farming equipment had been left on in there. Billy went to slip on his tennis shoes. Then he stopped. He just had a feeling. He dug out a box from under the bed and tore it open. Inside the box there was a signed picture of Kirby Pucket, a bag full of small stones, three pieces of leather string, and a ratty looking pair of shoes. They were Sam’s pair of luck shoes, he had given them to Billy the day Billy moved.
Billy tied the shoes and put on his baseball cap. He tiptoed down the stairs, walking on the very edge of them, right next to the wall so they wouldn’t creek. He wondered what he would find out in the barn. Probably something old and dumb….
The first day of school would start in a few hours. A new school, with new kids. He would never tell his mom this, no matter how many times she asked, but Billy missed Sam. Sam had lived across the street since before Billy could remember. Sam had three older sisters and two fat parents who laughed a lot. Chris and Jill, they had said, call us by our first names ‘cause we aint no mister or missus. Billy would go over to there white stucco house with vines on the walls every day after school. They would trade baseball cards; they would build forts in the back yard.
Billy looked out of the window and swallowed. He didn’t want to cry. He was in fifth grade, fifth grade boys don’t cry, even if they really really want to. 6:45. Mom will be awake soon. Then breakfast, then, Billy swallowed again.
The barn had one window. It was centered right above the big double door and it didn’t have any shutters. It looked a little like there was a greenish light coming from it. Billy looked a little closer. Yes, there was definitely a greenish light coming from it. Probably some weird piece of farming equipment had been left on in there. Billy went to slip on his tennis shoes. Then he stopped. He just had a feeling. He dug out a box from under the bed and tore it open. Inside the box there was a signed picture of Kirby Pucket, a bag full of small stones, three pieces of leather string, and a ratty looking pair of shoes. They were Sam’s pair of luck shoes, he had given them to Billy the day Billy moved.
Billy tied the shoes and put on his baseball cap. He tiptoed down the stairs, walking on the very edge of them, right next to the wall so they wouldn’t creek. He wondered what he would find out in the barn. Probably something old and dumb….
Sunday, September 6, 2009
True story combined with urban legend
Robert is sculpting the wax under a heat lamp. I’m crouching behind the half walls of the booth smoking.
“You suck at it ‘cause you’re shy,” Robert says.
I take a long pull so I don’t have to answer.
“You’re shy ‘cause you’re self conscious.”
“I’m self conscious because this costume makes me look like a dork.”
“Yeah, you look ridiculous.”
“So do you.”
“Exactly, so does everybody here--you have to think of it like wearing a bright pink shirt.”
“What?”
“Shut up, I’m not done. A bright pink shirt on a dude says, I’m secure enough in my manhood to wear a bright pink shirt. This is like that, but with tights and swords and shit. Look, you want to know what the secret is other than having a pair?” I nod, he doesn’t notice or care. “Middle aged chicks and kids, that’s how we push product, middle aged fuckin’ chicks and kids. Kids are easy, you just yell like, hey little dude, check out this rockin’ dragon candle, and they do ‘cause kids fuckin’ love dragons. Then they whine like little bitches until their parents buy the product. Easy dude, easy. Middle aged chicks you just tell them they’re hot, but you gotta work it. Can you work it, you got a girlfriend?”
I nod.
“I bet she’s hot too, so you can work it, and if they’re with a dude it’s even easier. Then when you tell them they are smokin’ babes it pisses the dude off, right? I mean this dude hates you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, so then you just imply―you know what imply means?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, you just imply this dude doesn’t care about his girl enough to buy her a candle and he’s fucked. I mean your makin’ on his chick and she’s diggin’ it ‘cause they all do, right, so now he’s challenged, he’s got to show her he is still a man and he still loves her, right?”
“Okay.”
“And so you put it in terms of candles, you make it so that buying the candle is the only way he can win, do you get it?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
I hate him, I hate selling candles, I hate the fucking Renaissance Festival, I hate the desert, I hate hate hate. Mostly I hate this guy named Crow. He makes hand drums. He has dreadlocks. He is older and more confident than me. He sure is talking to my girlfriend an awful lot and she sure is laughing.
I finish out the day and get back to the trailer. I have made more money than yesterday, a lot more. I would feel good but I did it using Robert’s tricks so I just feel like an asshole.
Crow is in the trailer. He is cooking, Jesus Christ, he may as well be massaging her feet. He smiles at me. “Hey, Ben, we were just making a little tofu stir fry—you hungry?”
“Ummmm, I just ate. I think I’m gonna go for a walk.”
“Are you sure, Ben? Crow is a really good cook.”
I’ll bet he fucking is. “I just feel like getting some air.” Like there is air in the desert.
“Will you do me a solid and walk my dog? She’s real friendly, she’s tied right around back.”
No Crow, I will not walk your dog while you try to seduce the woman I might love, I will punch you in your stupid pierced nose.”Sure, no problem.”
I go out back to get the dog. I love dogs. As the dog is licking my face I’m thinking how straightforward they are.
The sun is setting in the desert and me and the dog, I’m calling her Shelly in my head, walk brooding into the cactus filled distance. Actually Shelly is doing a bad job brooding. Bouncing, grinning, peeing, no brooding. “What is so great, Shelly?”
When I get like this I just go inside myself. I don’t notice where I’m walking and I don’t notice how far I’ve walked. I’ll go for hours. So will Shelly it seems, probably wants to get as far away from those assholes as I do. Eventually I notice it’s cold, it’s really cold and I have no idea where I am. Shit shit shit.
Its dark and I’m starting to freak out a little. “Do you know where we are Shelly? I thought dogs had great noses, Shelly. Come on, make me proud.” I follow her, talking so I won’t know I’m scared. “I took his bitch and he took my bitch, huh Shelly? You know what they say, better to have never loved because you don’t have to lose, what? Oh you are good, can’t slip one past you, can I?”
I stop. Shelly has stopped. There is a cabin in front of us. I have no idea where I am. But I have a pretty good idea I am very far from where I should be. “It’s cold Shelly, we could freeze out here. Whoever owns this will understand.” I knock on the door. No answer. All the lights are out, probably no one lives here. I knock again just to be sure, Shelly whines a little and licks my hand.
The door isn’t even locked. It creaks open and I feel around the edge of the frame for the light switch. I find it but the light is burnt. “Fuck it Shelly, we don’t need light, just a bed and some blankets. We are men after all--well, some of us anyway.”
I pull my lighter out and flick it on as I step inside. It smells sweet and sick. A little like onions that have been left out on the counter. The lighter reveals one room. A bed, a table, a bookshelf. The bed and table are covered in thick maroon sheets.
“Well Shelly, beggars can’t be choosers.” But Shelly hasn’t followed me inside. She whines at the door. “Come on, we’ll freeze.” She whines but doesn’t budge. I put the lighter away and grab her collar. “Just chill you weirdo, there’s nothing in here. I drag her in and together we jump under those thick sheets. She licks my face. “Night girl,” I tell her. “I mean you’re not the right girl, but beggars can’t be choosers.” I fall asleep.
In get up in the night and have to pee real bad. Where the hell am I? Oh, ya. “Shelly? You have to pee girl, where’d you go?” I hear her whine under the bed. I put my hand down and she licks it. “Well I have to pee, see you when I get back girlfriend” I stumble outside and let loose. Ahhhhhhhhh. As I’m zipping up I see something on the ground about ten feet in front of me. It’s Shelly dead on the ground with a knife in her chest. I start to run.
“You suck at it ‘cause you’re shy,” Robert says.
I take a long pull so I don’t have to answer.
“You’re shy ‘cause you’re self conscious.”
“I’m self conscious because this costume makes me look like a dork.”
“Yeah, you look ridiculous.”
“So do you.”
“Exactly, so does everybody here--you have to think of it like wearing a bright pink shirt.”
“What?”
“Shut up, I’m not done. A bright pink shirt on a dude says, I’m secure enough in my manhood to wear a bright pink shirt. This is like that, but with tights and swords and shit. Look, you want to know what the secret is other than having a pair?” I nod, he doesn’t notice or care. “Middle aged chicks and kids, that’s how we push product, middle aged fuckin’ chicks and kids. Kids are easy, you just yell like, hey little dude, check out this rockin’ dragon candle, and they do ‘cause kids fuckin’ love dragons. Then they whine like little bitches until their parents buy the product. Easy dude, easy. Middle aged chicks you just tell them they’re hot, but you gotta work it. Can you work it, you got a girlfriend?”
I nod.
“I bet she’s hot too, so you can work it, and if they’re with a dude it’s even easier. Then when you tell them they are smokin’ babes it pisses the dude off, right? I mean this dude hates you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, so then you just imply―you know what imply means?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, you just imply this dude doesn’t care about his girl enough to buy her a candle and he’s fucked. I mean your makin’ on his chick and she’s diggin’ it ‘cause they all do, right, so now he’s challenged, he’s got to show her he is still a man and he still loves her, right?”
“Okay.”
“And so you put it in terms of candles, you make it so that buying the candle is the only way he can win, do you get it?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
I hate him, I hate selling candles, I hate the fucking Renaissance Festival, I hate the desert, I hate hate hate. Mostly I hate this guy named Crow. He makes hand drums. He has dreadlocks. He is older and more confident than me. He sure is talking to my girlfriend an awful lot and she sure is laughing.
I finish out the day and get back to the trailer. I have made more money than yesterday, a lot more. I would feel good but I did it using Robert’s tricks so I just feel like an asshole.
Crow is in the trailer. He is cooking, Jesus Christ, he may as well be massaging her feet. He smiles at me. “Hey, Ben, we were just making a little tofu stir fry—you hungry?”
“Ummmm, I just ate. I think I’m gonna go for a walk.”
“Are you sure, Ben? Crow is a really good cook.”
I’ll bet he fucking is. “I just feel like getting some air.” Like there is air in the desert.
“Will you do me a solid and walk my dog? She’s real friendly, she’s tied right around back.”
No Crow, I will not walk your dog while you try to seduce the woman I might love, I will punch you in your stupid pierced nose.”Sure, no problem.”
I go out back to get the dog. I love dogs. As the dog is licking my face I’m thinking how straightforward they are.
The sun is setting in the desert and me and the dog, I’m calling her Shelly in my head, walk brooding into the cactus filled distance. Actually Shelly is doing a bad job brooding. Bouncing, grinning, peeing, no brooding. “What is so great, Shelly?”
When I get like this I just go inside myself. I don’t notice where I’m walking and I don’t notice how far I’ve walked. I’ll go for hours. So will Shelly it seems, probably wants to get as far away from those assholes as I do. Eventually I notice it’s cold, it’s really cold and I have no idea where I am. Shit shit shit.
Its dark and I’m starting to freak out a little. “Do you know where we are Shelly? I thought dogs had great noses, Shelly. Come on, make me proud.” I follow her, talking so I won’t know I’m scared. “I took his bitch and he took my bitch, huh Shelly? You know what they say, better to have never loved because you don’t have to lose, what? Oh you are good, can’t slip one past you, can I?”
I stop. Shelly has stopped. There is a cabin in front of us. I have no idea where I am. But I have a pretty good idea I am very far from where I should be. “It’s cold Shelly, we could freeze out here. Whoever owns this will understand.” I knock on the door. No answer. All the lights are out, probably no one lives here. I knock again just to be sure, Shelly whines a little and licks my hand.
The door isn’t even locked. It creaks open and I feel around the edge of the frame for the light switch. I find it but the light is burnt. “Fuck it Shelly, we don’t need light, just a bed and some blankets. We are men after all--well, some of us anyway.”
I pull my lighter out and flick it on as I step inside. It smells sweet and sick. A little like onions that have been left out on the counter. The lighter reveals one room. A bed, a table, a bookshelf. The bed and table are covered in thick maroon sheets.
“Well Shelly, beggars can’t be choosers.” But Shelly hasn’t followed me inside. She whines at the door. “Come on, we’ll freeze.” She whines but doesn’t budge. I put the lighter away and grab her collar. “Just chill you weirdo, there’s nothing in here. I drag her in and together we jump under those thick sheets. She licks my face. “Night girl,” I tell her. “I mean you’re not the right girl, but beggars can’t be choosers.” I fall asleep.
In get up in the night and have to pee real bad. Where the hell am I? Oh, ya. “Shelly? You have to pee girl, where’d you go?” I hear her whine under the bed. I put my hand down and she licks it. “Well I have to pee, see you when I get back girlfriend” I stumble outside and let loose. Ahhhhhhhhh. As I’m zipping up I see something on the ground about ten feet in front of me. It’s Shelly dead on the ground with a knife in her chest. I start to run.
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I AM BEN MILLER
