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2008-01-20T19:20:00.000-08:00

LEARNING HOW TO TYPE- THE ESSENTIAL GUIDE By James Thaddeus Jajac

Chapter 1

I do believe that I am the best typist in the entire world. No one can hold a torch to my typist skills! Let me begin by relating the first time that I touched the keys of a key board. There I was, the tender age of four, when I found my fingers teased above the keys. I knew not what, I knew not when, but my entire world was about to change. While I sat there my hands instinctively typed by some bizarre telekinesis, in its entirety, Leo Tolstoy’s immortal classic “War and Peace” in 9.3 seconds. Let me tell you ladies and gentleman it was a moment that I would never forget, nor would any of the people in attendance that day. Of the forty thousand that I know of all but two of them have mentioned it on Larry King Live.

Chapter 2

Later that afternoon I invented the hang glider. There I was suspended from the top of the empire state building; I knew that with out some creative thinking I was, most certainly, a goner. And so I hung there, suspended just from a thread of the seat of my ‘Smurf’ overalls, trying to work my magic upon the universe. I had in my pocket a paper clip, a dollar bill, an onion, and fifty feet of the strongest nylon I had ever laid my hands upon. Coincidentally at the exact same time there was a holly wood film crew filming a great holly wood epic just one roof top away. One of the crew men caught sight of me and quickly turned the cameras toward me, fascinated by this 4 year old boy, dangling within an inch of his life, knitting and weaving in mid air, something no one had ever seen before. What I then called a ‘fly -wing- boat’. That crew man was none other than Steven Spielberg and he later used that footage to flesh out his masterpiece, “ET”. So after I completed my flying machine and dropped from the top of the empire state building, I arced through the air, the paper clip bent and reshaped as a frame work, to nest the nylon, and I soared into the clouds like an eagle. Yep it’s true, I did that. Did I mention I am a great typist? Call me.

***INTERMISSION***

It’s the new thing.

If there is a party, get there early. If it starts at 8pm get there at 4pm, and bring your laundry. Act like it is your party too. Order food, hand them the bill. When some one knocks, answer the door and greet every one like it is your home. In the middle of the party interrupt everyone to let them know you are going to take a bath. Then, fall asleep, in your clothes, in the bath. Then, after midnight, when you wake up, when the party is over, ask if any one has any pot. Then after you have convinced them to let you sleep on their couch, once every one else has fallen asleep, after you have compiled a karaoke play list on their lap top, wake them up, to let them know that they are out of fabric softener. THE END. Oh yeah and don’t forget, take lots of souvenirs!

***END OF INTERMISSION***

***PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR SEATS***

Chapter 3

I spent my last ten weekends floating. It is a nice change of pace from the usual run of the mill sluggish routine I had been adopting since I was elected mayor. You’d think that there would be so much to be done, all the time, but there is a heck of a lot of free time to adjust to. You’d think it would be easy too. At least that is what I thought when originally confronted by it. How quickly did I learn my lesson; it takes at least as much energy to do nothing as it does to stay busy. That is where the floating comes in. Apparently there is a service available to figures of public office. All you need to do is submit a form with a declaration of abject boredom (In triplicate) to the nearest library and in a matter of hours a seventeen foot waxen duck appears at your door. A wing lifts mechanically and out drops a stair case with a petite young lady acting as your guide, she quickly ushers you inside and stealthily there it begins, a most peculiar journey.

They call it floating likely because it involves floating. This magic duck, I presume, lifts above the ground and floats aimlessly about the intergalactic landscape. I say ‘presume’ because I was never certain at any point if any of this was real, or just an illusion, like a child’s ride. I was told by the young lady that the duck would take me any where I wished and I was granted this indulgence, whether real or imagined, without argument, with out hesitation for as long as I required, for ten weekends, as I have mentioned, in a row. That first weekend I wished to explore the inter workings of a live volcano, The duck immediately roared to life and the screen before me danced with the imagery of transport, lifting high above the town, twirling madly through the galaxies, until we then dropped suddenly into a glaring red volcanic orifice. We traveled through this tunnel at great speed, for an undisclosed amount of time, bending the air with velocity, crashing through waves of molten lava, descending and rising, sinking and floating, drifting with out route infinitely abjectly akimbo. Then I checked my voice mail and the town hall was on fire, so we rushed back. By the time we had arrived it had already been attended to by the local fire department. I, the proud mayor, made a quick appearance bowed ceremoniously, tipped my hat at the robots and children, and made my way home by limousine just in time for a quick nap before meal time. Which was, by the by, a heaping helping of macaroni and cheese served upon the elbow of a shaved Bengal tiger (with a feather of a crescent moon); Most exquisite if I may be so bold, to be so frank, to state the obvious.

This has been a quote from: “The Memoirs of an obtuse man in the jungle of a sea of fish headed free pageantry (In a gallery of abstractions)”.

Chapter 4

THE DIARY OF A FAT HOMELESS NINJA

So there I was, down to my last crystal throwing star, tummy rumbling like no ones business, standing stark naked in front of the last Carvel for the next fifteen hundred miles, a satchel full of stale pecans, my wife is screaming in my ear, the kids are rolling on the floor like they have the worst case of herpes since George Hamilton met Claire Danes, my alarm clock starts clambering, I’m out of Tylenol, a polar bear starts doing cocaine off of my glistening bulbous tuchas, a bumble bee has a telegram I have to sign for, but neither of us have a pen, there is an Eskimo made of diamonds contemplating suicide hanging from the chandelier of my polish cousins hairdressers nanny’s accountants soup kitchen! Meanwhile, long story short, Carvel is closing in two minutes and eight seconds, I got a bowling ball rolling out of my ear lobe, I’m down to my last crystal throwing star and it’s between a cone and killing everyone, what is a fat homeless ninja to do?

Well I’ll tell ya.

That was one fine ice cream cone.

Diet starts tomorrow ass hole.

EPILOGUE

Learning how to type is indeed a challenge. It is often hard to remember which letter rests beneath your fat retarded fingers. For example: When I wish to type “Hello, my name is Juan and I would like a drink of water”, with out correction this same sentence may read as: “Hello mt name is Yuca and I woiels lieks a feink id qarehotdogr”. Correcting a sentence of such monumental depth can take up to an hour of grueling labor, hunched over an encyclopedia, thumbing through a thesaurus while cradling a dictionary like it was your first born. For this reason typing can be a challenge and often you will be reduced to screaming and kicking and carrying on. But it is moments such as these you may be happy to learn are what make you A WRITER! Enjoy the unpleasant distraction of adaptation and learning by slapping your hams upon the key pad like Gene Kelley at an Andy Dick convention. But seriously, typing, like life is not all fun and games. To hone your craft you may have to isolate yourself to depravity, stave off your growing suicidal tendencies by humming and singing and scream crying, but through it all one must be devout, and taciturn and esteemed with the utmost conviction (unwavering). For it takes more than a nimble cascade of finger feet to complete and compete with the unitard of life. It takes excellence and brethren like a sack of kittens vomiting from the soul of non other than Ghandi himself, it takes commitment. And if there is anything I want to learn from this experience it’s that hard work bears fruit, and even though you may have to waste hours of your time with that harpy Mavis Beacon bellowing in your ears, it adds up. One day it won’t take an hour to type; “I enjoy my belly, if you please, rub me at your leisure”. And if that isn’t mantra enough, I don’t know what is. Maybe that’s the lesson we all need to learn in these times of modern malignancy, that you take inspiration from whence you find it, for there is no hidden spring, just as there is no fountain of youth, or, I decree, a short cut for learning how to type 200 words a minute; Nor will there ever be.

Mavis Beacon, take thy hand and let us descend into thy quivering gelatinous tomb, hallow be thy name, blessed be the fruit of thy womb, let us gather these metaphorical acorns together. Let us all learn how to type. Amen.

Signed, cordially, lovingly,

James Thaddeus Jajac

THE END

2007-11-28T16:42:00.000-08:00

Too many capitals.

11/26/07

You think when you write: “I must write what I know”, and then you think of all the most immediate relevant objects that have crossed your path and you think: “Shall I write about them?” “No” is the answer, “Those things are too remote, too easy, too unrelated! I must write something extraordinary or else who would possibly care?!”

With clenched fists you now walk through life with your mind coursing all around you like a fog, lifting and picking and sifting though everything in which you come in contact. “Perhaps I can use these” You may think or: “Yes this may do nicely ha, ha, ha; I will conquer the world for certain!” You will continue to walk with fists clenched, and then unclenched and then clenched and unclenched again, grabbing the invisible with your hands and grabbing the actual and transforming it from the concrete thing into the invisible object that are… “I will have a mind full of ideas” you may think: “And with these ideas I will work, I will create that which has never existed, and with these creations I may rule and conquer, I will stand atop my own ideas like a man on top of a mountain, human foot atop cold wet stone. This will be my reality…” You will think. And with this thought your mind will drift far, far away into an unlit room that exists only within the deepest recesses of your mind and blindly grabbing and feeling you will sit and wonder and sit and create and imagine all of the wonderful things that you can make, and all of the beauty that will shine in your eyes and all of the “whatever” that will swirl all around you and every one and everything, and try as you might to distinguish the real from the unreal you will struggle and it will all start to feel the same and you can imagine light and you can imagine darkness and you can feel rain though it is as dry as bone and you can hear music though there are no speakers or microphones and then there are white circles every where and you shout out holding the thumb you have just crushed with a hammer trying to hang pictures on the wall, and shouting out again you imagine somewhere down that long dusty distant road of the day when you can finally afford…a lamp.

“I can’t see a goddamned thing in here!”

You shout now angry with fists clenched (and then unclenched and then clenched and unclenched), thinking and dreaming of another day when thumbs aren’t so sore and crushed and dark rooms aren’t so dark and dusty and you think and walk and think and walk and then sit and wonder and sit and think and sit and laugh then you write something down and close the book in which it was written because you have some where else to be, and then you walk again completely uncertain but determined in every way to get where your going in the exact time allotted though it is cold and rainy and your hunched over and wet, and your glasses have cracked and there are too many cars in the street and they are moving much too fast but you know you can get there because you’ve been there before and you know there can be no doubt because you think: “I can see it” and you know you can because you can and you know it will always be there because it has always been there and you say those words aloud because you can and the words form in front of your eyes and then you think about the words and you think about the letters and then you scramble them and unscramble them and the words have not changed and you know it’s there and that it will be there and you cannot miss that which has always existed. You may just have to find it: “I may just have to find it” you think, and you think: “I know that I can see it because I can”. You say the words and you can see the words and you can hear the words, and it has and it will always be there because you know and because you believe and there is no longer any doubt or mystery: Because you can, because you care, because: “I can see it”.

Because I can see, because you can see, because you can…

“See.”

I wrote it down.

2007-07-31T12:06:00.000-07:00

Bill The Window Warrior

By James Jajac 2006

Time stood still from the window to his face. Only that fragment of space had been affected. Just outside of the room he was standing in, was a long white hallway that at the opposite end of was a kitchen, and in that kitchen there was a door and the doorknob of that door was being furiously shaken. It was locked.

In that first room we have Bill a terrible paranoid prone to panic attacks, he often stood in the front room like that staring out the window for hours on end; it was a some what busy street so there was a lot to look at but Bills intentions may not have been curiosity as much as it was terror. He was afraid of being murdered. He would tell you, you didn’t have to ask, that three people had been murdered on his street since 1968, and that one can never be too careful.

Today when he was staring out that window there was a fight that took place in front of his home, it must have been about twenty to thirty kids. It was a furious battle; there were knives and even guns involved. Bill froze, he should have liked to call the police but he was afraid to take his eyes off of them, he wanted to be ready. He had to be ready.

There was a red haired boy, he had sort of a lumpy face with freckles, some one hit him with a bat across the teeth and nose and he fell screaming onto Bills steps, Bill flinched thinking of the blood but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

A car window was busted open, glass was every where, the car alarm erupted, and a siren screamed in protest. Bills hands by his side were trembling.

Soon there were more sirens but this time it was the police, three cars that he could see pulled into view maybe more. Most of the boys scattered, the few that remained were badly injured. One of the boys shot at a police officer and the officer fell down beside his car. His hat fell off and rolled over sideways. There was shouting and gun fire as the boy pressed between the narrow space between the houses. Bill could hear him struggling through.

Then he heard it. At the back door, the doorknob; He couldn’t move.

He was going to be murdered.

He stared out the window. The officers were too large to push through the narrow gap. They ran away toward the end of the block; to the right. Bill watched it all unfold.

The ambulances scooped up bodies.

The door shook.

There were footsteps and voices in every direction.

The back door, some one was kicking it.

The traffic was stalled, the red sirens reflected across the window pane.

He heard the back door splinter and give and then foot steps, as they came down that long hall way.

He couldn’t turn around.

He would go away.

Bill couldn’t move.

The footsteps went passed his doorway and they sounded upon his wooden steps. He had gone upstairs.

There were more footsteps and voices now, from the kitchen; heavy foot steps and loud voices.

Bill tried to process it all in his mind.

He turned and lifted his loaded weapon from his dresser drawer.

He tried to remember what he was afraid of.

A police officer entered the door way and when he fired he remembered that that wasn’t it.

He fired again and again until the gun was empty.

Now it was quiet except for the voices outside the window.

He turned around.

There was an officer, a police officer, with a gun aimed directly at him.

Through the window he saw it all.

The sound came second as the window shattered.

Everything was on a delay.

One can never be too careful.

The back of his head burst open and then came a peculiar sort of clarity.

One can never be too careful.

Through that window, he saw it all.

He tried not to panic.

THE END

2007-04-25T10:48:00.000-07:00

“The Typist” By James JAJAC 4-15-07

He wanted to try something different so he curled in a sheet of paper and wound it into the long neglected typewriter that sat just by the window. First a test: He typed the letters:

“A, t, g, h, u, c and w”.

Monitoring his progress and seeing that it was legible, he typed again:

“This type writer works, HOORAY!”

He then pulled the page from the typewriter and crumbling it into a ball shot it up into the ceiling fan from where it bounced and dropped onto the wooden floor with an audible thump.

Driving in a new page, it now sat ready to receive his every thought. The Bright white sheet was illuminated in the dim room; A beacon of light in the blue green darkness. He sat and faced the task before him, the type writer, old oily and dusty, his clawed fingers curled around the keys, he let his mind drift out of focus and waited for something to appear. His fingers waved like snakes, and framing the picture in his mind, he slowly closed his eyes to black.

There was a wind from the window, there were his feet barefoot on the cold wooden floor, there were his lips, which he felt were frowning, there were his hands gently caressing the keys. He felt the plastic, he felt his finger tips he felt his mind finally wandering…

A sky is black above an old court house. It looks like a court house, a big officious grey building. Very large and looming, a bare flag pole stands alone above three rows of long short grey-white steps. They look like piano keys and they are divided by a black railing. At the top of the stairs are three sets of double doors, framed by heavy marble. The doors are also black, they are reflective; they echo the darkness all around them. There are trees all around, but not clustered too close together, it looks like a public park; the leaves are green but deep and dark in the dead of night. The air is very still but it is not quiet; there is the sound of voices that gradually fade to life.

A group of young children between 6 and 10 walk in an unruly pack; one of them points up and shouts: “Oh shit the moon!”

It is full and heavy clouds drift right through it. The clouds are a funny color that night, a pale blue green, they look like death.

The wandering kids come upon the court house and race up the steps. They are trying to beat each other and a tall fat boy in a red shirt beats them all and calls out: “You Losers, I win!!” There is general laughter but one of them calls out, the short one: “Shut up you fat pig”.

Two of the kids disengaging from the pack began winding their way down the stairs under the railings, snaking all around the metal posts. Once they reached the bottom they turn around and race back to the top rejoining the group. They were now all centered at the double doors peering into the dark glass to see what was inside. The fat one kicked the door, and then hit it hard with his shoulder. Two of the others did the same, nothing happened, it didn’t budge.

The fat kid said:

“I wanna break in there, it’s probably easy!”

“Why?” one of them asked.

“Just for fun, I’m fucking bored”

“I don’t know” Another answered.

The youngest one called out finally:

“I want to go home”!

He opened his eyes.

Had he been typing? Or just thinking?

He looked down at that page and saw that he had. Words had been formed. He felt odd, a little out of sorts, groggy but not tired, tired but wide awake. Rather than figure it out he tried again:

A dog?

A dog.

A dog was walking through some tall grass in a dark and deserted neighborhood. Jumping over some high weeds it found itself on a sidewalk beside an over turned car. It was smoking and the glass was melted and black. A charred cracked blistered arm hung from an open door, he sniffed it and licked it and unsatisfied walked away. A street lamp flickered above, its base bent from impact. Our dog stepped oblivious over tiny fractions of glass and metal walking across a short bridge. Beneath it was a flood of rushing water, as he passed above, the roar of the water filled his ears; they jumped up attentively at the sound. He turned and stood up placing his two paws on the low wall and looked out at what was left of the world around him. The sky in the distance was a deep orange; the fires rang out across the horizon. What was left of the city hung across the sky like a skeleton and a black smoke trailed away into the fiendish night sky like a ghost sucking and spiraling into nothing. Our dog’s eyes reflected everything in microcosm, but there lay a peculiar kind of clarity, and comprehension in those eyes- and its mouth hung open as if it were going to speak:

DAAAAAMMMMMN THAT’S SOME CRAZY SHIT OUT THERE!! HOOO-DAAAMN. WHAT THE FUCK BE GOIN’ ON? I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW. SHHEEE-HOOOT! YOU HEAR ME? I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW! KEEP ME THE FUCK OUTTA THIS. SHIIT! DAMN MY BALLS BE ITCHY. I GOTTA LICK THAT SHIT.

He swung his head around and began to lick his balls furiously.

DAMN NOW THAT IS SOMETHING SPECIAL. MY BALLS BE ITCHIN!

He kept licking his balls.

MMM HMM NOW AINT THAT SOMETHIN’?! I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF ALL THIS POST APOCOLYPTIC ARMAGEDON BULLSHIT N’ ALL I GIVE TWO SHITS ABOUT IS MY ITCHY BALLS. EAT YOUR HEART OUT ARISTOTLE.

Near by there was an explosion. A wall collapsed two blocks away, and a car alarm screamed ‘warning’ to no one at all.

He opened his eyes. The room was still quiet but it felt rounder, like typing had brought him back into something, it turned the edges into pears. It was practically night now and there was very little light in the room. He glanced at the lamp at his side but found him self comfortable in the darkness. He could make out that he had turned the paper around but had no memory of it. His hands still hung above the keys as if in mid sentence. He could make out a post card taped to his wall. It was from his ex girlfriend it was a cat in a sombrero, it was from Mexico. The memory made him smile and then frown. He then looked at his fingers for ten full minutes until he typed these words:

EVERYTHING IS ALIVE.

He slammed his fist down hard on the table suddenly enraged. He threw the chair back and went to the kitchen. The refrigerator cast a bright light making his clothes look cheap and old; he rubbed his hands against his eyes feeling old and worn out himself. He made himself a sandwich and sat down at his little white table. Fumbling for the remote, he switched on the television. On channel 8 there was a movie about a werewolf, on channel 9 there was a movie about a black boxer, on channel 10 there was an infomercial for ‘fat burning shorts’, on channel eleven a movie about a nuclear waste land. He lingered on it and focused on eating his sand which.

Light flickered across the walls, he was watching so intently now that he felt like he was in school. Fragments of thought entered his mind: His feet, His torn shirt, refrigerator magnets, Ice cubes, Steak knives, Elevator music, ducks, cabbage, opera, jet packs, fish, monkeys, and Walnuts. He ran his bare feet across the floor clutching at mysterious objects with his toes.

There was a little girl sitting on the side of the road in the movie. She was all alone and a car pulled up beside her, there was something terrible inside the car and just before something happened he quickly changed the channel. Passing through a few news stations he laughed at an anchor mans hair, and a weird old lady who screamed when she appeared: NO BUTTER FOR ME THANKS! He switched it off when he got to the Spanish channels and leaving the bread crusts on the table went back to his desk.

He began running through his mind the beginnings of sentences.

“The pale eerie night sky…”

“Some where down beneath the water…”

“No one ever knew what happened that night…”

“It was most certainly peaceful back then…”

“Calamity is most definitely a suspicious word!”

But he couldn’t quite finish the thoughts. They were just fragments that he could pick up and run with but to where he didn’t know.

Maybe the boys trying to break into the court house and the dog with the itchy balls got eaten by an octopus? Maybe the stories combine ten chapters later. Each one could be a chapter in the same book of short stories or they are individual novels that are connected by a series of events sharing the same time line.

The boys weren’t breaking into a court house after all that day it was actually a scientific bio chemical ware house where a covert group of judges/scientists were experimenting with atomic warfare as well as genetic breeding. There only successful experiment was a single dog that had been given the power to speak but unfortunately not the power to learn. The kids did break in, setting off a chain of events that resulted in the almost total destruction of that local town- SNOWFLAKE TX; the only link to their experiments are this dog and the scientists/government have to get it back before any one can connect the two. Mean while the dog wants to direct movies and hopes to go to holly wood to follow his dreams! UH OH!

None of that made any sense.

He sat in the darkness and though he couldn’t see the keys, he impatiently typed the words (so fast it sounded like a machine gun):

THE END

There really wasn’t one, but it’ll have to do all the same. He was satisfied. It’s an ending if you say it is.

THE END

2007-04-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

I see a landscape:

I see grass before me; a long stretch of grass, it’s yellow kindy grass; dry or something. It sticks up out of the ground like a billion zillion pencils made out of paper, strips of paper. To make it easier I will herein describe the grass as “Kenny”.

The sun shines down from the sky. The sky is gray with darker gray clouds. The sun is bright white- looking like a snow ball that is dropping out of...a snowball dropper thing.

The trees (at the end of that long stretch of Kenny) poke out of the ground like popsicle sticks, but round ones, kind of like pencils, but rounder and longer and lumpier, like carrots but browner and “branchy”. Little branches jut out that look like bendy wire hangers at the ends but at the base from where they grow out of the trees- like carrots that taper into bendy wire hangers, but the bendy wire hangers split out or “branch out” and make smaller bendies like bendy tooth picks that want to shake your hand.

If the trees were people they would be a family of tall skinny people wearing lumpy brown leather coats with green leafy fur collars-except the fur collar is kind of a green leafy ocean, or clouds that hover completely intertwined by their leafy tooth picky wire hangers (bendy) growing out of their lumpy leather coats. The leafy ocean is not actually hovering because it is growing out of their heads like a brain and the branches that hold it are like lumpy wirey brain stems that reach out like thoughts that would seem to hover above them all like one giant green and leafy wirey lumpy thought bubble.

A family of tall lumpy brown leather wearing skinny people with no faces all thinking the exact same thing- a giant ocean of green leafy wind shakey thoughts. (If they wrote poetry: “Hark: Greeny leafies, shakey. THE END”)

Standing huddled in a mass as if in an elevator or at a funeral looking out at the long base of dry pencil paper yellowy grass- “Kenny” who lays before them.

There is also a stone, no a rock, a stoney rock. It’s gray and jagged lumpy. It looked like a crushed donut with a helmet with a jagged stomach like a window screen taped in the middle. It looks like some one shot the donut and it fell down and its helmet sticks out and its stomach is choppy, liney, jagged because it was shot and then it turned to stone on top of Kenny.

The trees all walking in a line stopped before it, this stone, and thought of how sad it is and they all thought of the good times; running through fields in lumpy leather with their helmeted funny donut friend! Oh the splendor of those days as they frolicked in fields of “Kenny”, whose pencil yellowy papery laughter would soothe them all like the balm of the snow ball sun above them! Giggles and gusto but...

Now there is sadness. Donut helmet is dead and turned to stone. They stand above, all in rows consumed by sadness for their fallen friend with a singular mourning. Even Kenny is consumed by melancholy “oh why has our donut brother passed?” he asks incredulously through soil strewn lips.

“Oh whoa, whoa, why must it end this way?”

Their grieving is interrupted as they becomes distracted, looking outward past Kenny, seated upon a stretch of concrete (like long gray book marks) beside one of their darker lumpy tall leafless brothers is a pinky lumpy hairless monkey writing something down upon a V shaped slab of white lined leaf skin sheets bound together.

He is looking out at them and his hand (like pink french fries) is scratching down, scribbling rolling lines.

“Who is this idiot?” they all ask in one complete greeny leafy wirey bendy wind strewn thought.

He is looking out at the scene before him and thinks, while a snowball sun is slowly dropping:

“Taking a photo would be much easier”.

THE END

2007-03-03T11:18:00.000-08:00

MY FIST FIGHT WITH GOD

When I was 14 years old I was an angry kid. So this one day I was in a big huff, I was a typical teenager walking around with a chip on my shoulder, only I was acting like I had 14 chips off of 14 shoulders. Angry about what you might ask? Well it didn’t take much back then, it could have been anything. When I looked up as I came to the corner, I saw a church before me and I raised my middle finger at the highest steeple and spoke the words “Fuck you god” aloud.

“Yo, I’m sorry what did you say?” a voice boomed from behind me.

I turned and saw sitting on the steps an old man with a long white beard. He was missing teeth he was black and he was drinking a 40. He stood up and swayed and grabbed the railing attempting to not tumble down the stairs and failing, He fell on his head.

“I know you didn’t just say “fuck” to the muther fucking god almighty you white mother fucker” He said as he attempted to stand.

But I was filled with the fury of my own personal teenage oblivion, I held my ground. “You’re damn right I said “FUCK” to god, where is he when we need him? God is a big fat gay fraud. If he was here right now I would brick punch his ass (the act of punching while holding brick)”.

“Now hole on you cracker box chicken heart. You so happen to be speaking to God Hisself, so you bes’ show sum respec’ ya hear me chile?” he lurched forward angrily swinging a clubby stink fist at me.

I stepped back and dodged him with my youthful cat like reflexes. He threw another punch and I dropped below it pummeling his belly with eight rapid fire punches to the gut that left him stumbling and gasping for air. “You better start prayin’ to me if you hope to walk away from here you old coon bastard (sorry he kind of started it)”

His eyes grew large and white and an eerie wind began to blow. His beard caught in the breeze and the sky filled with dark clouds. The sound of thunder rolled across the sky and all sound seemed to cease with the exception of a low growl coming from behind his clenched rotting teeth. It was a stand off, I stood there in my batman t-shirt and my acid wash denim shorts facing down the lord and savior of earth! But I wasn’t afraid I was tuff stuff (that’s what my shorts said anyway).

“Boy you gone and done it now, you have enticed the wrath of God hisself, now I’m gonna have to come down on-“

I threw a rock at his head and then he fell down screaming.

I stood over him at that moment squinting in the bright of the setting sun, “When I say “fuck you” to god my friend, you better damn well know I mean it”. He turned to face me trembling with fear, his hands raised over his face. “Please don’t hurt me!” He cackled, “Oh pluuu-eeeze don hurt me no more, I had enough, you are tuff, you are TUFF-er than god. I beg for your mercy!!” At this point a bunch of angels had appeared on the roof of the church above and began shouting and haltingly hurling halos at me.

I said “No god, this ends now!!” (Dodging halos) I lifted him up by the collar and I held him before me just about to break his neck but then his breath made me throw up and I ran home crying (still dodging halos).

Then I looked at pictures of Cindy Crawford and hung out with the ninja turtles and fell asleep.

No one to this day ever knew of this dramatic occurrence. I kept it even from my closest friends. I used to be too afraid to tell any one about it afraid that I would be shamed or rejected but I decided to come clean and tell my tale…consequences be damned.

Sure I beat up god, but in this life we are all brothers and deep down under our skin we are all just human beings and a human being can make a mistake. Now I don’t believe in god but I do believe in feelings, so God if you’re listening I’m sorry. That was messed up. I was living in a “teenage wasteland” and I took it out on you and it wasn’t your fault.

I’m also sorry I called you a coon but you started it.

Sincerely,

James Jajac

2007-02-17T19:54:00.000-08:00

Friday, June 10, 2005

The girl of my dreams

I was bored and sweaty walking down 18th street at 3am, when I hit Tenth Avenue I knew I had no where else to go so I crossed over and started walking by the water. There was a bit of a wind which was kind of nice, I stared out into the water to see if there was anything out there like an octopus or bank robbers in a raft fighting over the loot, nope nothing but the hollow outline of New Jersey in the distance (like watching paint dry). Well I kept walking, there were loads of creepy weirdo’s out that stare at you like murderers, I'm probably just as weird as they are but at least I don't stare - jeez. As I continued to walk contemplating the mysteries of life (I’m kidding there’s nothing mysterious about life) I noticed in the distance a man wearing a tight red miniskirt. I knew it was a man because I could make out his big sweaty mustache from about a mile away. It was sick and I knew I was screwed because I was gonna have to walk past him; there wasn't a crosswalk near by in either direction, but y'know who cares? I'll just avert my eyes. Its eerie how quiet Manhattan gets very late in the early morning, everything feels so still and quiet, it feels wrong but it's wonderful too. I could hear the water splashing in the distance, I could hear the little waves crashing. It reminded me of the time I was walking across the Brooklyn Bridge when I realized all the cars passing by sounded like water; it was like I was on a beach. Maybe NY is more peaceful than people realize (traffic is Zen).

"What are you doing up so late baby boy?" The mustache asked. I tried not to answer, and just quickly weave past him. "You look like you’re in a hurry" he said slapping his own ass provocatively. "I just gotta get home" I said glancing at him quickly. That was when I realized that he was Charles Bronson in drag. The real guy. I could have sworn that Charles Bronson, the actor, was dead. "You in a hurry?" He asked. He was trying to be cute and seductive and it turned my stomach. I looked him straight in the face and he pouted his lips at me, I felt like I would vomit when I saw the lip stick caked all over the bottom of his mustache. He has that weird accent; it wasn't as pronounced as it is in his movies. He stopped in front of me and I stepped around him, I held my hand up to him as I passed as I would at a passing car I just stepped in front of, apologetically (please don't kill me), and I turned and walked quickly away. A deep growl came from behind me, "EY fuck you, you dick head bastard" (there’s that accent). I would have cried with laughter if I wasn't so frightened. Thirty feet later I glanced back and he was leaning into a car window. Good for him.

I kept walking until I reached Battery Park. It was dark and it felt like there were people lurking in the shadows everywhere. I had never been so paranoid in my life. I stood at the railing and I saw the statue of liberty in the distance, she looked beautiful so when no one was looking I blew her a kiss. I felt so stupid. I looked out at the black water, at the lights drifting through the sky, at the clouds drifting past the moon, at the lights still lit up in the office buildings, and back again at the statue, Miss Liberty. I watched in disbelief as one of her hands reached out and caught the kiss I had blown her, she closed her hand around it and placed it onto her cheek, then she smiled at me and I waved. She already had one foot in the water and before I knew it she was waist deep and walking toward me. In a moment she loomed before me, this grand great giant green woman. Gazing up at her I was in awe, her eyes were so kind, and warm. I racked my brain for just the right words, "I've been inside you a bunch of times" I stammered and I almost exploded when I realized what that sounded like. My face flushed over and I started sweating, I looked her in the eyes nervous, and I said hello. She held her hand out close to me and put my arm on her hand. She scooped me up and held me, and after dangling me precariously over the water she placed me gently on her shoulder. She turned away from the park and began to walk. It only took a moment for me to get comfortable; it was like we were old friends. I can't remember what I said but I just started talking to her, I must have talked for hours. She didn't say anything but somehow I was sure she understood.

The water got deeper and pretty soon, the city was no where to be seen. When the sun came up I wondered what people would say when they saw the statue was gone. I hoped no one would be mad at me. She just kept walking forward, with me holding on, talking into her ear, asking her questions. I didn't even know where we were going, I didn't really care either. The world is a really small place. I wished that we were going some where that no one had ever been to before. Like in “Gulliver’s travels”, I wished there was something left unexplored, that we could stumble upon. A new strange world, a new strange land, where there was nothing set in stone and we could start it over.

In the middle of the ocean in the middle of nowhere, under a perfect blue sky, under a shining sun, the waves were crashing against us, the wind falling all around us in soft bursts. No destination in sight, and no expectations. There was nothing around for miles. Nothing but clear sky and an endless ocean but I could fill it up with all the thoughts in my head, I could spread them out all around us, lay them down like index cards and try to finally get them all in order. Maybe thinking just makes you dumber? I asked her if she knew where she wanted to go, she turned her head toward me and smiled, and she looked back out at the sea.

I tried to think of something to say, but that was all the answer I needed. I closed my eyes.

THEEND

2007-02-09T23:13:00.000-08:00

I FELL ON A MONDAY
(OCT 17TH 2005)

Last night was a disaster I had one beer and I got so wasted, turns out that I married a pigeon. I have been asking myself all morning how I got to Paraguay but the bastard won't budge, I’m sure he knows something but he just keeps glaring back over that fucking hotel sink, with the same blank expression.
So I walk back in the room and there it is. The pigeon and I feel a little apprehensive. Maybe the pigeon really loves me? What should I do? I scatter some cracker crumbs at the foot of the bed and it gives me a reassuring glance and it hops down to nibble, and then I run out the door.
In the lobby there is a statue of "Boo Berry" the cereal ghost mascot and it is the biggest and most expansive lobby I've ever seen, chandeliers, fountains, pools, Lilly pads, even a beach with a shore. The hotel clerk has his head thrown back and he is busting a gut laughing, it echoes through the entire room. The sound is just plain eerie, he looks like an animatronic robot, and I can't imagine what he could be laughing at. Just then he casts me a steely glare as if I had walked in on him doing something terrible.
I step outside into the light, or is it dark I can't seem to adjust my eyes. I keep my head tilted down because my head hurts. About two dozen pigeons are formed around the doorway and my stomach sinks and I freeze scared that they are here to kill me, but they just scatter and fly away as I approach.
As I walk past the building I glance into an alley way and I witness a California raisin take a bullet in his fat wrinkled purple belly.
The sound of the gun echoed across the sky, or was that thunder? There was a flash of lightning and the sky opened up like a flood. A howling wind appeared, it blew unending and threw me into the side of a parked car and everything went black. When I wake up I am seated in a movie theater. It's in black and white and it's me up there, it's a movie about me about what happened last night and I'm talking to some one. I try to listen but the audience keeps screaming "I KNOW YOU DIDN’T JUST SAY THAT!" every one of them is saying that same thing over and over again but I can't hear what I’m saying and I have to know. I stand up and try to quiet them, I yell “shut up, SHUT UP” into their faces but they just nod at me like they know exactly what I’m talking about. This is my life!! Don’t they fucking understand this is my LIFE up there! I run out the door and try to find the projectionist. I follow some stairs that spiral around and around. At the top of the stairs there is a door and I open it. Immediately I hear the projector, and I hear people screaming and in the room I see a man laughing all by him self, staring out that little hole in the wall. His head swings back with shock and I know I’m not supposed to be there. I say “I was just trying to hear the movie” but he doesn’t look like he hears me and Its dim but I suddenly realize that he has been severely burned. He has no ears and his skin is melted. He has no hair. I try not to react but I know he can see how scared I have become. I say “I’m sorry I just wanted to hear the movie”. He stands up and looks at me and seems really angry and confused and I feel so stupid I can barely remember why or how I got there. He walks toward me and I get frightened and put my hand up defensively, but he just walks past me out the door, slamming it behind him. For a moment I’m frozen but then I run to the little window and look out into the theater to see the movie. It’s me the previous day and I vaguely recall the events that are unfolding before me. I am standing on a roof top and there is a long shot of clouds as if I am looking at the clouds, it seems like a piece is missing, it doesn’t feel whole to me. Now nobody is saying anything the people aren’t yelling, I look down and it seems quiet, but then I see, it’s the burned man he is chasing people out of the movie theater. He is swinging a big piece of wood around and clearing everybody out. Maybe there was no sound in the movie? But that doesn’t make any sense. I start to feel overwhelmed again and the shot of clouds changes in to a shot of me walking, I start to think “don’t tell me I’m going to the movie theater” and sure enough I walk into the theater! It’s a fake movie, I realize it then. Because I don’t remember walking to the theater so I’m sure that part is a lie. And standing on the building I know there was more to that and some one must have edited it out. I look around thinking maybe the projectionist did it; maybe there are scraps of film on the floor? All the missing pieces that I can use to tie together the scraps of time that are missing from my memory. I look out again and there are credits, white on black but there are no names it’s just a series of random words. “Hate” “Freak” “cabbage” “Old people”. Its just gibberish nothing makes any sense here. The door opens slowly and the projectionist pokes his melted face back into the room. He smiles and tries to speak but I can’t understand him. I say “thank you, Thank you, I understand” and I leave quickly. The stairs this time lead to a fire escape that takes me down the side of the building leaving me next to an empty in ground swimming pool. Its empty but I stop to look into it, fascinated by how deep it is. It’s impossibly deep! It must be impossible to fill that up, it was like staring off the side of a building it must have been 80 stories deep! It just went on forever! Oh FUCK. I get this stupid wave of deja vu. What the fuck?? I look all around trying to place it; there is a blue car a few blocks away that seems familiar. The back door to this building is silver and that seems familiar. The deck chair next to the pool has a Charlie Brown towel on it but nothing is clear. I start to think my brain is out to get me, all the wires are crossed.

On the street it’s very damp like it has just rained, but there is a wonderful cool breeze that is so soothing. It makes me hungry and I feel like getting something to eat. I glance into the shop windows looking for my friends, maybe they are in there? But I don’t spot any one and I find a place that looks comfortable so I go inside. The waitress nods her head at me from across the room, and starts toward me. “Hi back again? you can sit where ever you want”. I start toward a table but then I ask her “was I here before? when was I here?”. Her face lights up and she smiles like I just said a joke, “you were here last night don’t you remember? You come here all the time?” I said “oh” quickly and took a seat. I picked up the menu and started through it. Unfortunately there was no food on the menu, its short stories from famous authors. I wanted to put my head on the table but I refused to react to the confusion, I could hardly contain my frustration. I figured I would wait until the waitress came back and she would already have the fucking food I was going to order. I started to read quickly through one of the stories. It was a short story by Below Tolstoy, the name sounded familiar but it seemed like a typo. It was a story about a girl that carried a bucket down a dirt road and every time she reached her destination her old father would beat her with a broom and kick the bucket over and then she would have to do it all over again. It was the meanest thing I ever read, it was condoning the old mans behavior, the whole point of it was to make you see his point of view but it was completely wretched. Just as I got angry the waitress arrived with two trays of food that I had not ordered.
I liked the waitress because she seemed like she knew me and she honestly seemed to be glad to see me again. I don’t have the faintest clue who she is or when I had been here. “So how’ve you been?” she asked me. I said “uh well I’m a little confused about everything”. She laughed outright, like she knew exactly what I was talking about “well yeah I would think so wouldn’t you?” she said. I asked her if she could sit with me, I really felt like talking to some one. She looked back over her shoulder quickly and a big fat guy in white leaned his head out of the kitchen door. His face was grave and severe and he didn’t look like he cared for me at all. She stepped away from me and seemed suddenly cold, “oh, oh sorry no I cant they don’t let us talk to the customers, enjoy your meal sir”.

She had brought out French fries and blue berry pancakes. Everything seems a bit off, but I ate them. The flavor was subtly wrong, with a strange bitterness to them. No one else was in the diner but me. It didn’t seem much like a diner, kind of like a mix between a church and a school room kind of crossed with and old 50's diner and a library.

I looked over at where the waitress had been and she was gone. This was getting depressing. What am I supposed to do? The mean guy I realized was looking at me, and he of course looked angry. I stood up and said “hello” from across the room. He said nothing. I nodded my head at him as if to say, “yep I'm done over here”, then I made the writing the check motion and for some reason I felt utterly ridiculous. It was as though he had no idea what I was doing. he just stared at me. I shrugged and tried to smile but I was growing impatient. The clock said three thirty. I yelled across the room “I really have to be going, thanks for the food!” and I walked out the door onto the street. The waitress ran up behind me and whispered “RUN” into my ear and I felt nauseous and tired, but I did it. I ran as fast as I could. I ran until I couldn’t breathe. Who was after me? Why was I running? I don’t fucking know, but I was certain that soon everything would be clear. The hotel I was in, I could see it now from where I was, and the beach wasn’t too far away either. It started to seem like a nice town but, of course it wasn’t and some how I knew that. There was a big banner hung from the street lamps it said “welcome to Our town”. There was a cartoon trombone on one side of it and it was royal blue with yellow letters. Looks like I had missed a parade or something. This is when I began to feel sickeningly apprehensive; it was like deja vu only worse, vertigo. I could hear a car engine in the distance and I knew something bad was going to happen but I couldn’t see a car. I kneeled down against a wall and tried to hide and I saw a car about six blocks away turn onto the main road, and it was coming toward me. It drove slowly deliberately right up onto the side walk next to me. A fat man in sunglasses who was going bald asked me if I was okay. I held up my hand in a wave and I said “I’m okay”. Then my chest hurt and I was dizzy again, my stomach ached and everything was spinning so I closed my eyes. I felt like I was going to cry and I clenched my fists and then it turned into anger and I opened my eyes and I screamed with a force I have never known “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT MOTHER FUCKER??” “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME OR I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU”.

He looked at me like he didn’t understand “are you okay?” He asked again. And the anger just dropped right out of me, I was exhausted. “No I'm not okay; just tell me what you want”. He took out a pack of cigarettes and started to act like he was cool, he hits the pack against his hand, pops out a cigarette, throws it into his mouth and he lights it up. Looking at him I got a sense that he wasn’t always this fat and that he may have been some hip guy years ago but I was sickened at his posturing and revolted when he said “you just got to relax bro”. So I fucked with him. “Wait what did you say?” “I said you just gotta relax bro” “”No I can barely hear you, you said AX-TONE?” He squirmed and raised his voice a bit, “I said you, I SAID YOU JUST GOTTA RELAX BROHEIM”. “I DON’T KNOW WHERE THAT IS” I yelled “BUT I’M SURE THEY SELL MAPS AROUND HERE”. He tried to roll with it and play it cool “That’s not what I said man” “I’M FROM QUEENS” I yelled. “THANK YOU, THANK YOU VERY MUCH”, “JUST MAKE A RIGHT UP AHEAD BROHEIM”. He looked foolish sitting there in his car and he cleared his throat and drove on. Just as slowly as he came. I hoped I had broken his spirit; I wanted his hollow bones to crumble and his entire body to turn to dust.

I walked back to the hotel and there were maybe a thousand pigeons out front. I was petrified but they parted and let me pass. As I entered the lobby I recalled something. Earlier in the day I had fallen against a car, maybe that’s what that fat guy was talking about? When I fell against the car? Maybe it was his car?? I didn’t know but I burst out laughing. I walked into the lobby and the hotel clerk was still laughing and wiping tears from his eyes, he held his hand held up like “just a second I’m laughing here”, but I just walked past him and headed back up to my room. The door was ajar just like I had left it and there was a strange surge of comfort and familiarity as I walked down that hallway. She was in there sitting on a pillow and she looked like she had missed me. I realized I walked out because I was scared but what was out there was far more terrifying than what was in here. I could see in her tiny little bird eyes that she loved me and I had been foolish to be so afraid and there was a moment of tension as I stood there at the foot of the bed, until I smiled and lay down beside her. The light was dim from the window and I turned on the TV, she jumped up on my shoulder and leaned into my neck and I leaned against her. The laugh track of some sitcom faded into the room, and George Jefferson shouted “and now isn’t that exactly what I’ve been sayin’ all along?” and that was the first thing that made sense all day. I realized there is nothing at all to be afraid of, if anything... at all.

2006-12-31T10:47:00.000-08:00

2006-12-27T21:48:00.000-08:00

“But it is cold out there: A glove story” By James JAJAC

Act 1

It was their anniversary today. He couldn’t remember how many years they had been together, he had most certainly not kept track, but he promised her he would take her out to dinner…

“But its cold out there, why can’t we go tomorrow?” he said and she shot him a look that was impatient and bemused but mostly outraged; because it was always something. Well he knew he was beat so he walked into the living room and switched on the lamp, and putting on his coat he noticed his gloves were missing. He’d had them for about eight years, sometimes he thought of them as an old friend. They sure had been through a lot together, he would sure hate to lose them. He spotted them beside the couch and relieved he stooped down to scoop them up and feeling a sharp pain in his lower back; He cried out in pain.

“Your back again?” an old gravely male voice called out. “Yeah, dammit, I can barely-“
He froze, and glanced around- nobody was in the room. There was a brief flash of terror, of either an intruder or well of his own insanity.

“wh-who’s there?”

“doncha know the sound of your own pair of gloves voice when you hear it?” they said slyly.

“hehe hehe, uhhhhhh….well its just that you’ve never spok-“

“BWAAHHAHAHAH I’m just joshin you kiddo, of course you don’t!! I aint never made a peep in all dese years and let me tell you, its been pretty hard to keep this trap shut with a cod fish like you doing the talking, now listen up, I got things I been meanings to tell you- So listen up”

“Honey who are you talking to in there?”

“No one I’m…just…talking…to the fireplace… I mean no one. I’m not talking”

She walks into the room with a concerned look on her face.

“Are you OK? What are you doing on the floor?”

“Who me? On… the floor?”

“Yes you, you’re on the floor. Do you NOT realize that you are on the floor, you are on the floor-- LOOK AT YOUR SELF!!”

“I’m not on the floor—Okay, okay, I AM on the floor. I’m just picking up my gloves.”

“Well, PICK UP YOUR GLOVES AND LET’S GO.”

“Okay, I’m coming”

“If you’re coming then why are you still on the ground?”

“I still have to pick up my gloves”

Her look was pure fire “PICK THEM UP, do it right now”.

“I am”

“You’re not, pick up your gloves”

“I will, I just-I just hurt my back a little”

“Your back again?! Don’t tell me. Please do not tell me you hurt your back picking up your gloves”

“No, yeah, maybe, okay -yeah, I did! I’m so sorry for being hurt!”

“I’ll be out in a minute, please, give me one minute.”

“I’m going to sit in the kitchen. I am turning on the television. If you are not ready to go in five minutes I am going to break a chair over your head.”

“Okay, good!”

She left the room, and he leaned down real low. He whispered hurriedly “okay she’s gone, what is it? What were you going to say?”

“Gloves it’s me. It’s Darrel. Talk to me buddy. I’m all ears. Come in gloves, I am ready to receive any information. Come in. Gloves? Hello? Breaker, breaker, this is Darrel please come in, over. C’mon gloves I only have a few minutes. What were you going to say? I really want to know.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one!” He said quickly and stumbling onto his feet he stuffed his now silent gloves into his pocket and apologized to them aloud for the rough treatment, as he rushed toward the door.

“Its okay” she replied comforted that for once he finally thought of her.

Is your back alright?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I’m pretty hungry”.

“Me too, let’s get going”.

And they stepped out in into the cold dark evening.

End of Act 1

Act 2

Hello and welcome to RI-CHI-CHI, do you have a reservation?

Yes it should be listed under “Susan and Darrel”. Were a little late I’m very sorry.

That is perfectly alright ma’am. Can I take your coats?

That would be lovely thank you so much.

And you sir?

No. I …need it.

(whispers)You don’t need it, give him your coat, what are you doing?

No! I need it. I always get cold.

You never get cold! We’re in doors, give him your coat.

It’s not a problem right this way please.

Fine, thank you. He needs his coat he’s very sentimental! It’s our anniversary!

How lovely. Here are your menus. Your waiter will be with you shortly.

(They sit down at their table; Darrel hangs his coat on the back of his chair)

Ahh isn’t this beautiful! I’ve always wanted to eat here.

Yeah me too a little, It’s nice.

Look at the candles, it’s so beautiful.

Candles nice, yes, I like candles.

So… what are you thinking about?

Uhhh…Candles and stuff; I’m a little hungry. Um, I’m gonna go out side for a smoke really quick.

We just got here and you don’t smoke, what are you talking about?

No I do now, I started smoking today.

WHAT?

Okay I didn’t start smoking; I just wanted to get some air.

Some AIR? Since when do you need fresh air? We JUST walked in the door. You’re out of fresh air already? You require “fresh air” now!!??

I don’t know why you’re getting so mad for.

OH you DON’T? You don’t know why I’m getting mad?!

I don’t want any air any more.

YOU DON’T WANT AIR! YOU DO-NOT-WANT -AIR! I will kill you!
Darrel please do not embarrass me on our anniversary. Now you look at your menu you and find something to eat.

Okay! Jeez Susan, you’ve been yelling at me all day.

Oh I have not! I just want today to be special! It is our anniversary and all!

Why couldn’t we just stay home and watch TV?

I’m not even going to answer that. Hmn the duck sounds nice.

A duck?? You’re going to eat a duck in front of me?

Duck happens to be a refined delicacy. What did you want to order?

All this stuff is weird. I’m going to have the jelly fish and lobster lungs.

That is NOT on there, Darrel stop it.

How do I know if I’d like any of this stuff?

Why don’t you just try something new for a change?

Well ok, in that case I think I will try the Steamed Dover Sole, periwinkles, sautéed mizuna, confit potato pearls, sauce "Vin Jaune” to start with. Its only 40 dollars!

That’s not so bad. See it’s fun!

And for dinner I believe I will have the Blue foot chicken, rainbow Swiss chard, black truffles, cooking jus!

Ooh that sounds lovely! Let’s get some wine too!

That’s a great idea! I have a bad job, let’s go nuts! Here look lets get the La Bouge de Cote! Its only 300 dollars! Maybe it will taste like my coat!

You don’t have to be so sarcastic Darrel. I am going to the bath room I will be back in a minute, if the waiter comes order the fish for me and what ever you like, and something to drink!

(He watches her walk down the hall way and he reaches into his coat pockets and slips his gloves on)

It’s me! She’s gone! Talk to me gloves. Talk to me gloves! What is the matter with you? Why would you do this to me? I heard you talking to me! Don’t pretend you weren’t talking to me before because I heard you as clear as day! As clear as fucking day!!! I am sick of this FUCKING game now speak to me or I am going to set you on fire, do you hear me??

Is there a problem sir?

No, she wants fish and I want chicken, and-- and wine. Bring us wine.

Would you like a wine menu?

No I would not. I would like wine that I can drink in a bottle and I’d like you to get it for me thank you.

(Susan comes back)

Darrel what’s wrong?

What?

Why are you wearing those gloves at the table?

My hands are cold.

Oh stop it, what are you talking about.

You really want to know what I’m talking about? You really do? Because I can tell you.

Oh what is it NOW Darrel?

It’s my gloves…They talk to me. MY FUCKING GLOVES TALKED TO ME!!!

End of act 2

Act 3

She stared at him for a very long time. A very cold and watchful stare, she watched every inch of his face with the utmost care searching his face for the truth, searching for the root of the problem, for some tell tale obvious easy to solve problem. She poured into his eyes for some sort of insecurity some kind of deficiency and she found nothing. She looked deep with in herself, took a quick spin around all the usual culprits then stepped back out into the restaurant. She saw his face, she saw the sincerity, the saw the gloves, she saw the waiter, she saw the wine; she sat down.

The waiter poured the wine as they sat in silence, waiting for him to leave, waiting for the words to come.

I wasn’t kidding he said.

She was silent. She was staring at a distant wall. She glanced down at her glass of wine, anticipating oblivion and dreading the blind dumbness of it, she might need her facilities.

He’s telling the truth I’m afraid to say, the gloves said brashly.

Darrel’s eyes nearly burst from his head, he looked to her for recognition, he waited for her to respond!

But her eyes were dull and unresponsive. Cooly she took a drink from her glass of wine. Who the hell asked you any way? This is between me and Darrel so if you don’t mind I’d like you to shut the hell up.

Now there’s no reason to be hostile miss. Ya see earlier today, I wasn’t tinking ya see, and I come right out and start talking. Now that’s none to wise for gloves to start talking to his-

Darrel make him shut up.

Uh Mr. Gloves, stop for a sec.

Sure mack.

Darrel why are your gloves talking to me? Can you tell me that?

Honest I don’t know, I was just-

If you let me finish perhaps I could explain it all away.

I don’t think I’m ready to listen to you yet.

Fair enough sweet heart, you know not many people know this but gloves are very perceptive creatures. I can sense a lot of hostility in you, not unexpected considering—

No. Stop it right now. Take those gloves off. Take them-

Maybe we should just listen, it might be important.

Oh look the food is here! How wonderful! See Darrel, we are having our anniversary dinner and everything is just perfect! Isn’t everything beautiful! If you would just put your gloves down we could enjoy our meals and have the nice romantic evening this is supposed to be.

Yeah but maybe we should just—

PUT YOUR FUCKING GLOVES AWAY YOU INSUFFERABLE FUCKING CHILD!!! She took a deep breath.

The waiters approached the table cautiously placing the plates in front of them.

Thank you, she smiled wiping a tear from her eye, everything looks wonderful!
See how nice everything is! Do you see Darrel?

He nodded blankly watching her frightfully.

Looking at her plate she smiled and sighed. She unfolded the napkin and placed it on her lap. She picked up her cutlery and began to eat her meal.

For fifteen minutes she did not raise her eyes from the plate. She drank her wine and her water and finally she looked up.

She glanced at Darrel and he looked back at her and he waited for anything.

The food was very good. How did you like yours?

It was nice he said. She glanced down at his barely touched plate profoundly disappointed.

I thought you wanted to try something new? You barely touched your food.

I wasn’t hungry.

Don’t you want to know what I thought of mine?

But? How was your food? How was it?

Oh it was just wonderful!

Sue, I think we should go?

But don’t you want to try the dessert? Where’s that waiter?
She waved her arms like she was trying to land a plane.

The waiter rushed right over, concerned, Yes madam is something the matter?

We would like to see the dessert menu please!

As the waiter walked away to fetch them, Susan stood up looking dazed and directionless and walked out of the restaurant.

Darrel jumped up trying to figure out what to deal with first.

The waiter stood across the room with an alarmed expression, frozen with two dessert menus in his hand.

Darrel looked from the door to the waiter twice and clutching his gloves he ran out the door.

He looked in every direction and she was no where to be seen. So he picked a direction and ran.

When he reached the corner he saw her deep in the distance, she was sitting up ahead on some grass. He ran to her and stood before her.

She gazed up at him now completely calm. I’m sorry Darrel I’m don’t think I was ready for this.

Darrel sat down beside her.

They turned to face each other.

The air was quiet and still, cars drove by across the wet pavement, and the leaves rustled in a gentle wind. The moon was obscured by dark clouds.

I’m sorry he said

I’m sorry too, she said

I’m sorry three said the gloves.

He had almost forgot they were there, curled into his chest, he pulled them away and they both looked down at them, a captive audience.

I shouldn’t a opened my mouth at all. I wanted to say I’m sorry. Gloves belong silent, that’s what they teach us, not allotta gloves out there that speak out, I guess they know better. Sometimes you think you can break thru with some people, you think “hey let me give it a go”, sometimes you think you have something interesting to say and it turns out you don’t or your just talking to talk. I never meant to do none of you any harm. I didn’t mean to cause a problem, and I thought I could make it all go away by pretending it never happened. By just remaining silent like I know I ought to be, but it doesn’t work that way and I know that now. I made a mistake and I took the two of you down with me. You think you can let go sometimes and look what happens. I did a terrible thing to you folks tonight and I’m sorry. I never meant to do any one any harm and it tears me down to the fibers to think about it. I am filled up with shame, shame and sorrow, I feel like the worst pair of gloves on earth right now. And you know, if you feel like chucking me into the fireplace when you get home, let me say I wouldn’t be surprised and…it’s nothing I don’t already deserve.

They sat in the quiet of the late night street dumbfounded and in shock; they both felt weak, and sapped of all their strength they leaned against each other. For the first time in years they felt close together.

Face to face now, they gazed into each others eyes, embarrassed and smiling coyly they kissed. The light of the street lamp danced across their tiny figures as it passed thru the rustling leaves of the trees above them. She hugged him and then they stood with shoulders pressed together.

Darrel turned his eyes to the gloves in his hands and they both smiled. With warmth he asked them --But Mr. Gloves what were you going to tell me before?

They both stood waiting in anticipation, wondering what it was that he had to say but this time the gloves remained silent.

They began their walk home, and found them selves deep in conversation.

They wore the gloves, one on each of their hands and their bare hands met and clasped together. They didn’t hear it, because it was so quiet, but the gloves did respond that last time, only they whispered, they whispered so gently and so quietly it would have been almost impossible to hear.

Actually it wasn’t that important at all.

THE END

2006-12-07T14:00:00.000-08:00

Theme: Something ridiculous
By James JAJAC

Today when I woke up in stead of exiting thru the door I opted for the window. In my robe and slippers I jumped down onto the street. A moment later a golden limo-zine pulled up and I climbed into thru skylight and we peeled down the street. I stood up on the seat looking out like a tooth pick in a submarine sandwich. We drove down Santa Monica blv and I saw such luminaries as John Belushi (throwing darts at palm trees), Elmo (break dancing on some cardboard), a blue giraffe (juggling knives), a fellow named Harry Buttkiss (wearing a bib with a lobster on it, and crying), two ceiling fans (wrestling each other for the last hersheys kiss), and Don Knotts (the annual dead guy beat box competition). While we were waiting at the light I saw a floating pineapple and I waved at it. He suggested I find a plot rather than just rushing through weird details but the light changed before I could ask him what he meant.

I suppose he meant that in every great story something has to happen, something has to be at stake. I guess it’s a way of mentally rewarding people for the trouble of absorbing so much content. Like a good joke has a good surprise, a good story should tie things together in a surprising and satisfying way. Though contrary to what the pineapple said, I always hear that the best things don’t follow the rules (hmmn).

Then we went limo surfing. You know how it is, it’s all the rage at queens beach. It’s where you put a surf board under each wheel and just hit the waves (I know its so obvious right!). Well were really makin a splash that day, a whole fleet of obese starfish wearing bi focals, pulled up beside us in a raft and started cheering us on! They were all eating tubs of KFC chicken legs and yelling things like “hooray!”, “ole”, “boobles mcgoobles!!” “I love butter”, Shit like that. You know starfish. LOL.

After a while it seemed we had drifted out to sea and I remembered why I was in such a rush to get out of the house that day. I had left a nuclear bomb resting on the roof of a high rise building next to an eagles nest on central park west. I had also forgotten to do my taxes, also on a rooftop, but this one was next to a hawks nest on the lower east side, but in addition to that: I had forgotten about the blind guy I had rented. I had told him to wait for me on top of the Chrysler building. I hate it when this happens. I get distracted sometimes. Oh well.

I figured I would get to all of it eventually.

I called out to the driver: SUBMERGE!!! And the limo dived beneath the surface of the water. There was a fine view of an underwater city, and a totally bitchin’ ice cream parlor. Then I saw an animated sea dragon doing some BMX biking one the aqua ramps for ESPN, it was so cool. It made me wish I was an animated sea dragon, SIGH, dare to dream, dare to dream.

We passed through the ancient city of ‘Sky Village’, this was the former cloud kingdom of DINGDONG 9. It was really pretty but was a complete tourist trap at this point. I bought a postcard and I don’t even know why; I know I’ll never send it. Some how underwater travel began to weigh on me, I started to feel listless and claustrophobic. I spoke into the intercom:

James: Limo driver, if you please, take us back to the top of the sea.

Limo driver: Yes indeed, if you are displeased, back on the surface is where we shall be!

James: Thank you, being under the sea was fine, but I’d sure like to be able to see the sky.

Limo driver: ho ho, hee hee, leave it to me, leave it to me, look out world- here comes a limo-zine!!!

And we rocketed toward the surface breaking thru the water like a sheet of glass, we took off into the sky like a missile. I was pressed back into the seat, and for about 28 seconds I could not stop laughing. Once we hit the clouds we leveled off and began to coast at a normal driving speed.

I remembered the things I had forgotten to do but I had no interest in getting to them. It was as if I had invented them just for the sake of giving my day a sense of urgency. What would be the point of that? It seems like most of the stuff that happens in peoples lives isn’t all that big a deal. Just think how people get so excited about little things, always yelling into their cell phones like the world is going to end because they lost their bag of ‘skittles’ or what ever. I just kinda let my mind wander as the world went drifting by. It is moments like these that I would think: “wow it’s all so surreal”, but is it really? What the heck is so surreal about reality? Mostly it just seems really silly and crushingly ordinary. Maybe it’s a safer bet to just live in a world of fantasy and pretend that nothing exists that you don’t experience first hand. I could rewrite history starting from my bed room window. Nothing else exists, sure it would be indulgent, but whose gonna dig me up to tell me I’m wrong? If the world is full of thieves and murderers how come I’m not dead? Ooh the mini bar has cheddar cheese, awesome!! Maybe I’m just lucky.

The sun was setting out there. I’ve seen it millions of times in photographs but there is never anything like seeing it for real. A photo is just a square (or a rectangle) in real life its every where, all around you, a full 360 degrees of bright orange sunset. I like when the sun turns into a little red dot and slowly disappears. It’s kooky.

I spoke into the intercom:

James: Hello there my man, whats say we slow it down.

Limo driver: Hey hey, all the way, is there some where you want to be?

James: Yes it seems, there are a couple of stops I have to make.

Limo driver: Enter you destination onto the computer screen, and we’ll be there before you can sneeze.

Dot dot beep beep - I pressed enter and the limo took a sharp right, we weaved thru the buildings and drew to a complete stop hovering just above a building. I looked out onto the roof top at the nuclear bomb. It turns out the eagle was a nuclear scientist and had disarmed it and turned it into a barbeque; A family of eagles were seated at a tiny picnic table eating grilled eagle food (what ever that is). I shrugged my shoulders and the limo driver and I shared a laugh.

I crossed “pick up nuclear bomb next to eagles nest” off of my ‘to-do list’.

We launched back through the city, heading down fifth avenue 80 feet off the ground, after a couple of quick turns, we came to a stop.

I rolled down my window to grab the manila envelope with my tax info off of the ledge. I felt a tinge of anxiety knowing that I was probably going to be late getting them in, when a bespeckled hawk seated in a leather recliner beside his nest called out: “Old bean, I saw you had left your taxes here, and I had my accountant put everything in order for you. Chip, chip cheerio and all that.”!

“Wow, that awful kind of you mister hawk, how ever can I repay you?”

“Tish - tosh, no need for that, I’m just doing my part- ‘Be good to others and they shall be good to you’”

I was shocked, I saw the limo driver wipe a hawk shaped tear from his eye; I said thank you again and the hawk just smiled confident cool and hawk like and we rocketed off again to rescue my rented blind man from the roof of the Chrysler building.

Well as we pulled up the first thing I noted was the strobe light, then the sign (also in Braille): “Blind man roof top disco bonanza” there we’re about 3 dozen blind folks getting groovy up there. And to think I worried at all! Note: blind people DO dance with their canes.

I was like:

“DAA-MMN, you blind folk is groovy”,

And they was like:

“Mmm Hmn, We know!”

“Does any body need a ride?” I yelled, but they didn’t even hear me. They were lost in the fever; ‘The blind man rooftop disco bonanza’- fever. I hear it’s catching.

The driver honked twice and we took off again.

Well there were two more off the list

--Pick up taxes next to hawks nest.

--Rescue blind man from perilous rooftop.

That was actually pretty easy. I turned the page over to see if I missed anything.

“Punch a lobster” it said. Fuck that! There’s no way I’m going to punch a lobster. That’s just silly. I crumpled up my list and tossed it into the limo shaped garbage can.

We drifted through the darkened sky with stars bumping against the windows, I think it was time to go home.

He pulled up in front of my abode, and I said thank you and shook the drivers hand. It made my day I told him and then I gave him a million dollars.

As he pulled away a lobster jumped out of the bushes with a switch blade. “I’m going to carve you like a pumpkin” he screamed! With out even thinking I punched him as hard as I could. His body lifted off the ground and he flew threw the air like a kite colliding with a pineapple. The switch blade ran through it and they both hit the ground with a ridiculous “DONK”. It was a grisly scene. Then a baby bear came and ate them both as Don Knotts did his beat box thang (oh c’mon).

As I was climbing back into my window I thought about what the pineapple had said. It was something about a plot and how in every good story something has to happen. I wondered if what he said was true and if what I had done that day fulfilled this bizarre requirement.

I didn’t feel a sense of urgency through it all, and there was definitely not a lot at stake, but I had fun and maybe just maybe that counts for something too.

I climbed into bed and I found that post card in my robe pocket. It made me a little depressed but then I got an idea and laughed. I would send it to that kind hawk. He certainly deserved it. Its fun to mail things, and one good turn deserves another.

The ceiling was white, like the white of my calm and satisfied mind. I felt slightly serene with a few lingering doubts that I had left a few things unresolved. Ahh it doesn’t matter. I can finish it all tomorrow. It’s another day so they say.

THE END

2006-11-26T15:23:00.000-08:00

Atomic Conjecture
By James JAJAC

Sandy sidewalks, and upturned streets, cracks that walk like kangaroos across the desert and a pair of sneakers that wont-stop-fucking-screaming. You don’t have to wake up, you don’t have to slice bread, or put the cookies back in the box, you don’t have to live like you learned it out of a dictionary you can just spin the wheel and laugh when all the windows break, it’s stupid isn’t it? It’s always stupid but it's the people who enjoy it that seem like the ones to watch. I don’t know, sometimes its hard to say, like this one time I had met a friend by the wall near the field at the end of the street and she was sitting there throwing bottle caps at kittens and it’s not like I feel there should be a line drawn but I thought that was silly and we got into an argument that eventually turned into a performance and she was all too happy at the heads in the windows but I told her that if god was a planet he would no doubt crash down upon her head and if god was a hammer and she was a nail, but then I got impatient and just left her there, I don’t like when people act like they don’t know what they are doing and it seemed all far to deliberate and that she was INDEEDY DOO thinking about everything before hand and then acting it out like a play that she is reading in her mind. I always think that if you’re thinking about what you’re saying – it isn’t real, but that is beside the point.

So its not like I’m starting over because I just changed directions and chose to walk through the mud even though it went on for miles but I thought it would be more of an adventure that way and it would be more memorable, and maybe it was because I was bored and frustrated and lost and angry and just stupid- tired but it really seemed worthwhile at the time and I don’t think I’ll ever let common sense stop me from doing something that seems like a victory at first glance.

Card board castles and ten gumdrop chandeliers, a record shop that smelled like stale wine and the beards of old men, there was a flap of leather on my grandfathers car and he threw it over his shoulder with out a thought, it caught in the wind and flapped back right on top of his wispy bald head and you know he didn’t even notice for almost an hour it was fucking hysterical, and then he turned on the windshield wipers even though it wasn’t raining and they squealed and scarped against the dry glass and he kept saying that kids don’t understand any more, not like he did, not like they did when he was kid and it was all because of how simple it was back then he said, everything used to be so simple. I wanted to believe that they were and that everything could really be stripped back to some form of purity but the way I process the world I simply could not believe it and I imagine him delusional, truly believing that the world actually was simpler at one point and that everything truly did make sense one day so long ago. I wanted to ask him if there was a day a specific moment when the world drew to a complete stop and took a shit on it self and stopped functioning according to the rules. I wanted to ask him a lot of things in retrospect, you know? Do you ever look at some one you’ve known your whole life and realize that aside from what you’ve witnessed you actually know nothing about them? I remember the Christmas where he set the family albums on fire with a cigar when he dozed off reading them, I remember when my cousins baby shit on his neck, I remember when he laughed so hard at the Benny hill show he looked like he would literally die, I remember his bad mood that started the year after grandma died but I know nothing else about the guy. Did he have sex in high school? Was that possible back then? I sure didn’t and I live in the quote-un-quote future, and even still I couldn’t imagine it. A fifteen year old boy has no right to intercourse and ejaculation with the opposite sex, I can’t picture; it’s just obscene. Did he fight with his parents? Did he ever look at his grandfather and think about how this old man has no idea what life is, that he has no idea what is real and that his point of view was hopelessly outdated and ob-so-fucking-lete. I want to think until I figure out how to lift myself out of the car and float into space and fucking explode. I want to open this door and drag my face upon the wet asphalt until there is nothing left but a skull. I long for digressions I long for comfort I dream of disappearing one day and never coming back, but the car stopped, we were there. Grandpa always buys me French toast on my birthday, happy birthday to me.

At the counter when he pays, he always gives the girl a twenty and walks away leaving me to collect the change. Even my surly cynical bad attitude can be melted by a gesture like that. That’s fucking class old man and I love you for it. It means so much to me it scares me, I don’t know what I would do with out him. My father may be a disappointment but this guy always seems to come through, maybe it’s because I like his attitude he seems angrier than every one else, like he can see all those invisible things that the normal folk cant. It’s what I’m talking about, how do I break through and figure out who this guy really is? Maybe I cant, maybe it’s a pipe dream maybe it’s a hopeless useless dream, and maybe I’m just too scared to ask because I don’t want to be disappointed. Maybe I’m standing here thinking while he is waiting for me in the car.

It was prbly a week later. I was alone. I had been spending a lot of time alone, not sure why, but I couldn’t handle other people that week, or month; the better part of a year really. Frustration, crustation, mustachion, UGH, my mind rambles and wanders like a lost duck in a submarine. I was in a field near the house I grew up and I saw the girl I had a crush on since kindergarten, and she looked beautiful. I remember the first day I saw her, sitting there by the window, engrossed in that days readings, the teacher (Mrs. Coogle) was reading aloud and I was dreaming, not paying attention, my head in the clouds, unfocused and my eyes fell upon her, and I couldn’t stop looking and she saw me and I got scared but she smiled at me and I smiled at her as I felt my face rush to red.

She looked a little beautiful and I felt that same rush of WHAT, of shame, of attraction? Maybe 15 years later and I still cant get close to her I feel this, this, this… she wore red jeans, she had let her hair grown out and it hung down all around her in a windswept blur, framing her face like autumn leaves. Her freckles had faded and as we got closer to each other I felt the tremors but I stepped around them, and let them swing past. I said hello, and she looked up like she hadn’t seen me and startled. Oh, OH! It’s you? Where you’ve been? No one has seen you in a while. I told her I was sick, and that I was listening to a lot of music (literally an out right lie), she said she was meeting some one and asked me if I’d like to come along. It was a shock and it was also too good to be true but all the same I turned around and walked along with her. It might have been the first official conversation we ever had. It wasn’t really about much, unfortunately it focused predominantly on grade school and the classes and teachers we had and people we knew and how everything had changed, on that whole school of thought. I listened so carefully to every word she was saying to me, like I was going to have to do a report on it, or as if I were going to transcribe it onto tablets when I was finally alone, but despite this I noticed something interesting as we walked, I noticed ever one else. I noticed how every one stopped to look at her, (I wondered did she grow her hair to hide?) I could see so fucking clearly how she radiated on the street but not only that I could fucking FEEL it, it was like walking with an inferno, and it scared me because It put me on the radar, it made people notice me, it made me visible, when I usually felt like an invisible ghost hiding in the darkness, their attention would be projected upon her but would quickly divert and linger upon myself and I didn’t know how to handle it; I felt like I was breaking the law. How do girls handle it? How can some one be beautiful? It must be like never being allowed to be alone, everyone always wants to get close to you, and they all want a piece of your perfect harmony. It made me sad and I looked at her with new eyes, softer more compassionate, does it mean anything? Does she even notice? In me? In every one else? Can she even see how much the world leans to her? I wanted to run away.

There was a question. Do I remember? 5th grade when Ms. Mitchell chased me across the room? I laughed! Do I remember? Do I remember being cornered and screamed at in a classroom full of kids because I spilled our big burly bully of a teacher’s coffee? Oh my god. One of the worst moments of my life, I told her I felt like I was gonna cry and she laughed so hard. She said she felt so sorry for me that day and I smiled like a little baby cradled in its mothers arms. She had had a thought about me! She had an actual feeling about MEEE! Our eyes locked in that moment and the joy submerged in my chest burst forth and I laughed like I was ashamed because I suddenly felt so stupid- happy it hurt. She Laughed too like we had just shared a joke but there really was nothing, it just sorta happened inexplicably and I watched our shadows on the road and tried to lose myself in the reality of the situation. She was absolutely beautiful and for ever how many moments it would be, she was with me and no one else at all.

Taking a short cut through the alley way she found the person she was meeting. It was big ugly Alan. The fat crazy drunken brute, fat ugly crazy stupid horse headed, monkey grizzle giraffe footed, pumpkin necked incinerator vomit toothed pig skull piss pearl oyster cunt headed scum nut Alan.

She ran to him, to his side and said quickly “Thanks for keeping me company!! BYE!!” and OFF-THEY-WENT. Keeping her company? Oh so that’s what I was doing. Oh well. So what if it was. God did I want to hit that kid with a brick. SO BAD. Soooooooooooo bad. It’s a new feeling. I’ve always hated him but I didn’t always want to kill him, like I did, like I really, really did right now. Kill him specifically with a brick.

Briefly there was a head ache, a head ache of disappointment and subtraction, like half the earth suddenly disappeared, or like nothing at all maybe. I bought a bar of chocolate and I went back to where I had met her trying to get back to where I was to regain the train of thought I had been on. Something about how life is blah, blah, blah, I couldn’t find it though. It had been wiped out of my mind. She had lifted me up to new heights and I didn’t think Id be able to put myself back down there. There was now an abyss where I once stood and I realized that there was no turning back. Silly but true. I stared into the stupid blue sky and I wished it would bend and twist into something else; I’m tired of everything being the same. I wanted everything to suddenly spiral and rearrange itself into a new breed of thing, I wanted the entire world to be eradicated and start over, from this exact point, from this exact second in time. 2:45pm Saturday after noon, it looked like it would rain it looked like it would rain.

I went home and sat in my room for five minutes, and I couldn’t do it, I didn’t want to be alone any more I called Ryan, not home. I called Eric, not home. I called Ian, he moved out or something his mom started talking and talking bad talking, what ever, no ones fucking home. As the night wore on so did my patience, I had this dying urge to do something I had never done before but all the roads in my mind lead to nothing. Where is all the mystery when you need it? Where is all the hopeless rage when you need some goddamn motivation? Where the fuck IS every body?

I walked. Down the winding sidewalks of Windbar Street, around the courtyard of Metrovilles BLAND apartment complex, I kicked the chains that linked across the grass, I walked until I hit the end of the bridge at Complex Divide near Luxton and I stood there for a minute counting cigarette butts on the sidewalk next to the curb. My hair was wet, I was sweating. Maybe I should go to the mall?

7:37pm. there were 34 cigarette butts. It was unacceptable, that I bothered.

The mall was occupied and crowded and I only saw one or two familiar faces, initially. Then they all seemed to appear one by one as if by sheer will. At first I felt apprehensive but then I didn’t care and I walked over to George who was standing by the pay phones. He had a purple shirt on.

Hey George.

What up?

Bored out of my head.

You too? This place sucks. You wanna come out to Ellen’s tonight? Her parents are out.

I didn’t even think about it. I said yes.

What time?

9 or something.

Ok sure. I'm gonna get something to eat.

He nodded preoccupied with a ringing phone and I headed upstairs to the food court. The food court always felt like a wave, like the complete embodiment of everything I avoid in life. A consuming collective of everything that was wrong and everything I despise. I always feel on the outside, I always feel locked out. I searched the crowd for familiar faces but only saw a few heads that seemed worth talking to.

I bought a soda and sat down. There were so many girls there today. So this is where they hide during the day. I could say “what’s the use in staying here all day” but I guess most people enjoy being around people and not every one can’t stand being around others, it’s an institution of like minded individuals. But for me, it is like a mental claustrophobia, I don’t have enough room for them in there, like a giant wave passing over me, it feels like doom, complete and total doom.

Empty chairs all around me, gum on the ground and under the tables and the loud chattering of voices blurring together, ceiling fans spinning and twisting in the sky, while tiles on the walls, like a ceramic prison, the room seemed to sway as the light flickered and I tried to step outside of it all, step out side of my mind and take it all in at once, the people on line, the dropped soda cups beside the garbage pails the crowd at the stairway, the hiss of the cooking foods, I wanted everything to be a single thing, to become an object, like an orb and to hold it in my hand and watch it and take it all in at once, I could pick and choose, I could turn it on and off at my command I could control how I respond to every little thing, I tried to control my mind and tie it all down, a storm was coming and I was right in the middle of it, I wanted control, maybe too much. Maybe that’s been the problem all along? I can’t get what I want so I avoid it, afraid to be misunderstood? To stand out? I can never seem to figure this stuff out. I’m not alone just because I think I am, maybe nothing is wrong after all? The soda bottle fell on the ground, and I left it there.

George and a couple of girls and I took a short cut trough some trees at the edge of the parking lot. There was a flash of lightning from above and one of the girls screamed and seemed genuinely terrified. It was actually kind of funny how scared she was, but not because I wasn’t scared but because it all seemed kind of cartoonish. Ellen’s house wasn’t far I reminded her and the thunder crashed all around us. I assumed George knew where he was going. It was dark and windy and the air was heavy and damp, any minute now it seemed, any minute.

We came out behind some ones garage and there were a few barking dogs behind the fences near by. They were loud and furious and they scared me a lot more than the lightning. Lightning was like a fairy tale, monster dogs biting your throat out, that seemed like a much more credible threat. It was dark but we could make out the house ahead, it was raised up on a hill side like a castle, the girls were talking about a movie they had seen and how stupid it was, George was alluding to me that he had brought some extra “stuff” along with him but I didn’t care so much, I was just glad I wasn’t alone. To be honest.

There were about 23 kids there, if I were to guess, maybe more, the music was hideous but I didn’t care at all, it blended into the walls and kept the room alive, it was like life support. The kitchen floor was all wet and some one had thrown down some newspaper to soak it up. There was black ink rubbed all over the tiles and it trailed out onto the red carpet in the living room. I slipped a little, but caught myself on the counter and I waited for some girl (Elaine?) to finish filling her cup up ahead of me at the keg. She looked up at me and said “OH HI” and I smiled kinda of afraid if her, we never talk, I held my cup beneath the spout and pressed down.

“So what have you been up to?”

I thought about it, It had prbly been 2 years since I last saw her, I tried to estimate the last things I could have talked to her about, and I remembered. The last time I remembered speaking to her she had asked me the exact same thing “so what have you been up to?” and I remember having the exact same reaction, no clue as to what to say or where to start and I thought that maybe I took the question too seriously because no one really wants to know what you’ve been doing and they are just being polite and trying to get away from you.

I’ve been kind of sick and listening to music I said.

Oh cool! That’s great!

Then she walked away and I lifted my full cup of beer and took a sip. It is at times like this that I think humanity has no hope. I don't even know why. Being trapped in these needlessly awkward moments and standing in a room full of people who have no idea what to do with each other, and every one deep down feels like they are going to explode and they just want to scream and to go crazy and to dull the “Pain”. Can you really call it pain? What a joke. The singular suburban seclusion I bet no one in this room has even read a book.

Oh, it hit me again; the notion that I’m lost in my own mind and I can’t escape it.

I drank my beer fast and filled it again. I could never figure it out. Where the world ended and I began?

Who am I and where do I belong. Please understand that I, not really asking myself that question specifically as if there was an answer that would be ridiculous. I’m asking myself the question with an implied sarcasm that kicks me and every one else in the head. What does it all mean? What is really on every ones minds? I bet their lonely, I bet we all are.

FUCK.

I drank my bear fast and filled it again.

Am I mocking them? Yes. Am I mocking me, of course.

I walked into the living room and Ellen was surrounded by boys, she was cute but it looked obscene. I don’t think men realize what they look like. Their eyes look like rocks, like a snow man with charcoal eyes. While Ellen was talking I waved at her and she lit up and waved! That made me happy.

I went from room to room. Next to the living room was the bath room and there was a long line (if it was me I’d pee outside), and beside the bath room there were obviously the bed rooms, three of them, three white doors all closed and I assumed locked. I walked over to one of them and glancing behind me I turned the knob.

The white door creaked open and I stepped inside. It must have been Ellen’s room and I felt like a savage violating some sacred party code, but it honestly felt good to be alone. I felt like I was aloud to think again and It dawned on me with complete sadness that I really did not want to be there, and then It felt like the food court all over again, the wave of suffocation of anxiety and fear and dread, like an ocean., like an ocean pressing against the door, I didn’t want to go out side, I wanted to hide. I sipped at the beer. It was bitter and warm but I hoped it would divide my mind into sections and make life livable, because as it stood, it was a mess. I didn’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want to be here either. What a dilemma.

I pressed my back against the door in the darkness. I couldn't get myself to turn on the light, I felt like a burglar hiding under the cover of black night. How long had it been since I related to any one? Why isn’t there a head I can turn to in this place? Am I really, really so odd? Am I really the monster I feel like? I was wringing the wet sock of my soul, I was hiding in a bed room, something is wrong with me. I opened the door quick and slipped out like a murderer, from out of the slow muffled steady murmur of quiet back into this booming dreadful mess. It can’t be all that bad can it?

I walked from room to room again, not enough familiar faces, that seems to be the problem no where to gravitate no where to-

She was there! It was her. I saw her red jeans from across the room and I swear to god it was instantaneous like the noise dropped and my mind cleared- I felt welcome! I looked all around for that fat pig necked cock frog Alan, why would she be with him? I didn’t see it. I had to talk to her! But I waited, I would wait, I should wait, I shouldn’t rush over. Right? Right. Stay cool and wait it out and …let her notice me, and she’ll talk to me and I can talk to- calm boy. You need to be calm.

I walked along the walls of the house; now that I had a purpose I felt alive and comfortable (or was it the beer kicking in??) And I could smile at people and make chit chat. I looked at a guy drinking beer and said “this shit is nasty” and we bonded briefly over the disgusting piss beer, I kept walking. I stood near the back door and there was a neat little girl in a skirt with blond hair. Wind blew through the screen door and I muttered “looks like it’s about to rain” She looked at me quickly and then back out into darkness, “yeah” she agreed.

Five minutes later, thunder and then rain. It poured down in buckets, the windows were all slammed shut and it gave the party a new life, like it was the end of everything, it gave the room an air of novelty because no we all suddenly had something exactly in common! Hooray for weather. People seemed so relaxed and every one seemed to all be in this together, what changed? Was it me? Shit, hard to tell.

I saw her by the stairs, I know she was looking at me and I almost fell but instead I turned on the lamp and then I turned it off. Oh my god I’m so stupid. I ran my hand across the table and tried to walk out of the room but then from behind me I heard her voice, she called-

My name.

I spun around and there she was, she looked happy and different some how. She seemed like she was bigger than before (Maybe I was shrinking?).

Come with me, I'm getting another beer

A spot of dread struck me. It sounded like before, "thanks for keeping me company” but I went any way.

She filled hers and then I filled mine and when I started to turn back to the living room I saw her stopped at the kitchen door. She had this mischievous look in her eye. She smiled so big suddenly and called me to her with her fingers I walked over feeling surprised. She opened the door and then she ran out side.

What are you doing?

She laughed as the rain came down on to her.

I stepped out too, drinking my watery beer, everything felt electrified, this moment felt real, like I had just been struck by time, the water ran down my face and into my eyes and I was alive, its stupid, but I felt alive for the first time in my life. She was running out there all around on the grass, throwing her hands up and laughing and she looked out at me her eyes so full of life and I felt it all around me I felt…something.

She threw her head back and swung her hair all around and she was soaked! C’mon! She said. C’mon!

And I ran out to her and we ran around Ellen’s back yard, and she grabbed me and pushed me over into the mud and she was dying laughing at me, I pulled her feet and she fell over and she rolled over onto her side and then jumped back up again and started running.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

She pulled off her sweater and threw it at me, and I was frozen. She was in her bra; I was seeing her in her bra.

She kicked off her shoes; they landed on the wet grass and in a flower bed. I tried to keep up with her, her soaked sweater in my hands and down the hill I saw her pulling off her pants, the red fabric was soaked through and she threw them up in the air.

That’s when I slipped real bad and fell hard on my face, I skid down the mound of wet grass and mud and flipped over onto my back. Ugh. Everything was blurry; the rain was coming down into my eyes I tried to find her sweater, when she appeared at my side. She was laughing at me.

Are you ok?

My head hurts.

She picked up some mud and threw it at me; I dodged it quickly and yelled:

Hey!

It was so weird. She started down the hill and I ran after her, I felt concerned...

Where are you going?

Wait for me will you?

I was so soaked, the water was squashing around in my sneakers and my clothes hung down on me like a dead weight.

I caught up with her at the trees, and she was standing and seemed quiet.

Are you okay?

There was some cover there under the branches. She looked so beautiful with her hair running down across her face; she looked so sad and vulnerable suddenly that I took a step back.

Are you sick?

She was distant.

I want to go back inside.

Okay. I have your sweater, but it seemed useless, it was soaked. She was standing in front of me in her underwear, soaked through I felt my eyes turning to stone in an instant and my mind clouding over. I wanted her to kiss me so bad, I didn’t want this moment to end, I- didn’t know what to do.

She just stood there so silent and sad; I reached a hand out but pulled it back.

Are you ok?

Now I was beside her and she looked me in the eyes and I felt that flash again, like everything suddenly came into focus.

C’mon, Ill take you back inside if you’re not feeling good.

Her eyes felt like they were watching me, she didn’t move and I felt so nervous I smiled.

While we stood there the rain had begun to let up, and a certain kind of calm seem to be forming, and it was quiet but it wasn’t awkward.

She looked into my eyes.

Are you ok?

Yeah! I-

She stepped so close to me.

Vague terror. It was ferocious what happened in side me at that moment.

Rain water ran down her nose, ran through her hair onto her shoulders, down across her chest and her bra, down her stomach, I felt the rain water running down my hands and-

You’re so weird, she said and then she leaned forward and our lips touched for just a second.

She looked at me and I leaned in and she kissed me again. Soft and long and quiet, she reached up and touched my face and then pressed her hand against my chest.

She started walking back toward the house and I followed behind her like a wet dog.

She found her pants and climbed back into them. She grabbed her right shoe and sat down to put it on. I walked over to the flowers and found the left one.

Thanks.

I felt useless holding her mashed up sweater. When she stood up I thought about handing it to her.

Do you – want to put this on?

Thanks.

She took it out of my hands but just held it.

At the back door she pulled her sweater back on and then stepped into the house, she held the door open and I dashed in beside her.

I felt connected to her. The wet clothes, it felt like it read as something, I felt some what guilty like I was wearing a terrible secret all over me. We were soaked but no one seemed to pay attention to us. We walked back through the party, I tried to not feel like I was following her but I didn’t know what to do. When she turned a corner with out looking I stopped myself. I went back into the kitchen to get some more beer and I thought I could maybe find her later.

It looked like the party had thinned out. How long had we been gone? It started to feel that maybe I should get going? There were only about 8 people left that I could see. When I walked back out to the living room I didn’t see her, or Ellen, or George. I checked beside the bath room and there was no line, I stepped inside and glanced in the mirror. All I could think was that she kissed this face, she kissed this face.

The light was on in Ellen’s room, I could see it under the door. I wanted to knock to talk to her for a second maybe, but was sacred she was with some one in there. I took a walk through the house and she was gone. I walked into the kitchen and she wasn’t there I looked out the back door and I saw our muddy foot prints like fossils pressed into the earth and I stepped back inside. I heard a door closing and I followed the sound, it was the front door, I opened it and I saw them, walking down along the front path. She was with Alan. I could see his car at the edge of the hill. She had a ride home, she had her sweaty mongrel, what the fuck does she want with me?

It was like a screw driver, or twenty, stabbing repeatedly into my chest, repeatedly ripping, ripping, ripping into me. I went back inside and closed the door, I didn’t want to see it any more, but I couldn’t help myself, I peaked out the window. They were now reaching the edge of the path and, and- he put his hand around her waist and then they were out of sight. With out a doubt the most evil silhouette I’ve ever seen. Awful, purely awful. I went back into the kitchen and Ellen stood by the sink but I didn’t care I walked right past her out the back door. I didn’t even look at her. I dragged my feet through our tracks and followed them down the hill to where we stood.

I felt alone.

I felt stupid. It didn’t matter. Ill just go home. What difference does it make? What’s the big deal? Better than nothing better than having stayed home, its better than being killed by a wart hog, what’s the meaning of life what the meaning of being alone. Did my grandfather ever get fucked over? Does every one get fucked over? I can’t imagine this happening every day but I bet it does I don’t think- it doesn’t seem like something she’d do. What does she want from me? I can’t imagine this happening to every one.

I walked through the forest. The light cut along the edge of the braches, ringing out like music, cresting along the surface blue green, I could see my feet before me, I could see myself walking, walking home alone, I could feel this weight on me, I was cold, it had gotten so cold out.

An old tire next to a wall, the body of a squirrel, wet leaves, puddles rising up out of the craters in the street, I step into them like little oceans and it rises over the top of my feet, and washes through them it washes clean through. I could feel a heart beat in the air, like a drum striking down, I felt weak but I felt accomplished. It was the end of the night, but it wasn’t over, not yet. I picked up a branch and broke it in my hands with a loud SNAP, soaked through it felt like a bone.

The next day I didn’t have a headache. I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch. As night fell I thought about only her. I thought about how I never see her and how last night was a lucky run. Where was I going to find her next? It felt like life was starting over and all I could think about were bricks.

The next day I visited grandpa at lunch time. He was watching TV and eating a ham sandwich, and that just about seemed too good to be true. He was sorta glad to see me and I helped myself to some food, and sat down beside him with a can of coke from the fridge.

He gets sorta dozey with TV, he goes in and out and in and out, and that starts to make me dozey because I’ll look over at him and look at his eyes and hear his breathing. It’s hypnotizing. My head started to bob and then I was out. When I woke up it was dark and he was in at the kitchen at the table, I went in and sat with him and it felt like never before, like all of this was new. It must be weird when your old and you can see the young people around you becoming people and knowing that while they were once children in your arms they are now these wandering minds and they suddenly watch you and try to figure you out. I try to shield the thought from my eyes and relax like we used to but I cant help thinking about him and wanting to know things about him, who he is and what he wants and what his whole life was like and… I want ask him about girls.

Sandwiches were good.

Yeah.

Did you see the end of the movie?

Nah catch it tomorrow maybe, it’s on again.

Oh.

It was pretty good.

Yeah I saw part of it already.

Grandpa?

Yeah

Can you tell me how you met grandma?

Heh. How I met her.

He exhaled deeply and I wished I hadn’t asked, make him relive the memory of the woman he had spent 50 years of his life with.

I met her at the movies.

She was sitting in front of me and she was the only one laughing. I had never been to the movies alone before and she was alone too, and after the movie in the lobby I started talking to her and we had lunch. After that we would meet once a week to see movie. That’s how I met her. You wanna eat anything else? I got some food today.
I didn’t know that. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

No I’m ok, thanks.

It’s late, I’m gonna get to sleep alright?
But stop by anytime if you like ok?

Yeah ok.

Ill-

Let yourself out will ya?

Yeah I will.

He creaked up the stairs slow and steady, and I heard his door close. I turned off the kitchen light and left thru the front door

The streets were empty at this time of night. Cool calm quiet and serene. I could only count seven stars in the sky.

No one really exits. It’s all a fever dream, a broken reality, a psychosomatic unretractable nightmare, a bag of sand, an empty turtle shell, a toe nail castle a truck painted goose yellow, a kitchen sink full of huckleberries, a rotating whistle shoot, and a toaster tied to a hurricane. I could twist words into a windmill and turn a canoe into a palm tree, and a tie rack into a nightingale. Turning and timing and twisting it into shapes, opening and closing and breaking things down and breaking him down and down again. If you push it if you fight it you can find it again you can remain in the window and you can take it all back and start over its impossible for something to be impossible its not an endless loop its just a channel, and no one can say that anything is more than it is and everything will just be the nobody and nothing will stop it’s all too much its all just beginning.

My mind just won’t wander. I feel locked into place like time had stopped.

I wish I could kiss her again.

And be close to her.

I wish I could see her again.

This is a train of thought.

I can’t seem to escape.

How do you rationalize that?

Maybe it’s all in the timing.

THE END

2006-11-21T23:19:00.000-08:00

FUN TOWN

You will learn to have fun, one step at a time; One -step- at- a- time. There were times when he would look out the window and imagine this whole world of fun and adventure happening all around him, when he hit the street that day he stepped onto an empty sidewalk. He looked from side to side and he saw nothing, nothing fun at all. There was a rush of wind that shook the leaves in the trees. Maybe that was fun for the leaves? It is possible. It was certainly not fun for him.

He crossed the street and stared down at a man hole, there was a penny wedged into one of the holes; Extreme sports for pennies perhaps.

He stopped to think and battle that tinge of despair that always arises along side some clouds of doubt.

“Well, where does fun happen” he pondered.

He thought back to the last time he witnessed something fun happen. It was car chase movie. People were getting drunk at a bar and doing drugs and then they packed into an auto mobile and sped down the highway blasting rock and roll music. Everybody there seemed to be having a good time, everyone was laughing, everyone seemed happy.

First stop, BOBS BAR on the corner of Eskimo and Blunk. He came to a stop at the front door, and then pushed it open and stepped inside. It was dark, and musty. There was one angry old man standing behind the bar, and three angry old men seated at the bar, and one angry old man seated at a table. Nobody seemed to be having any fun here. No girls no music and no drugs.

“You need something kiddo?” the angry old man behind the bar asked, while four angry heads turn in unison .

His chin skin hung down on his neck, with tiny protruding grey spikes. His eyes were only half open, with dark black beads peering through flaps of dead skin.

Something in his chest froze, and the question hit him like a hammer. He didn’t know what to say, he tired to find the words, but he could only cough, and then shake his head as he ran out the door.

Nothing fun in there; maybe 2pm is too early?

How can I find fun if I maybe never had any? Maybe what is fun to me is not REAL fun. Maybe I have been doing it wrong all these years, and what I considered fun is not even close to what actual fun is.

He though back to a time on a tire swing in the local park and how fun that was. He tried to break it down- Why was it fun? Because swinging is fun, plus a tire swing, adds an element of novelty to it. It’s more exciting than a regular swing-exotic. The feeling may be the most important. The velocity of movement creates a sensation in your body that is enjoyable. It’s like flying, and there is a slight element of scaryness but not too scary at all. Maybe what is missing is the element of danger?

Mouthing the word “Danger” he walked to the curb and picked up a broken bottle. He quickly ran the jagged edge across his arm and watched in horror as blood streaked down his arm pooling up in his palm. It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t one bit fun.

Sitting down on the grass he pulled off one of his socks and ripping off the toes, he pulled it up ton his arm like a leg warmer (An arm warmer).

Dazed but not deterred, he felt angry and continued his pursuit.

“I need to find some one who knows how to have fun. But how will I get them to invite me to do something fun? Maybe I can just attach myself to a group”.

As he pondered a small band of tough looking kids were walking past at the corner. He counted them, and there were 8 of them. They all looked mean but one of them was a girl who was cute so he walked toward them. Heads turned suspiciously to stare at him. He followed them, remaining about four feet behind, walking slowly, he followed them closely.

One of the bigger guys turned back at him and he looked away. The pack of them began to cross the street and he became self conscious. He waited and watched them until they made it to the other side. Two cars passed, a red one and then a grey one, and then he crossed over onto the corner of the street they were now descending.

The group had stopped in front of a house, one of them had walked up to knock on the door and it opened. A tall boy in purple clothes stood there looking angry and they hit each other on the fist. It looked funny but not that fun. The purple one was dressed funny, but he didn’t look fun.

Something funny happened!! The girl has thrown her head back and was letting out a shrieking laugh! He instinctively drew closer, slowly drawing in. He was so upset that he had missed it. Coming upon them, all eyes turned to face him, he edged off the sidewalk out of a drive way and pretended to be walking around them stopping on the opposite side of a blue car. He attempted to watch them through the window using the car as a shield. His ears were pricked up tracking every sound. They were still looking at him only now they were laughing at him. His face felt hot and there was a tiny kick of terror. They looked so mean now, even the purple one was laughing. He pressed against the car like it was his only means of survival. One of the fatter ones in a big white shirt took the cap off his water bottle and shook it up toward the sky, it came down all over him small heavy drops thumping all across the car. He wanted to run and he stepped out toward the street, a loud BLARE shocked him and he fell down. A car was stopped and honking, it was awful all of this was awful. He ran to the other side of the street and almost cried, everyone was laughing. The girl said “aw” the car drove passed and she started crossing over. He watched her figure grow as she moved in closer. She had long curly dark hair and her boobs pressed against her shirt, they jumped a little with each step. When she reached him she put her hand on his head. “What’s a matter? Are you okay? Are you lost? Don’t listen to them they is stupid”. Her hand touched his shoulder and then she kneeled and touched his face. He smiled.

Across the street the ugly boys started to go into the purple guys house. Two of them yelled and waved for her to come. Then they all disappeared inside.

“Are you lost? Do you want me to walk you home?”. The questions were easy but they felt too big, they floated in front of his face like balloons. “C’mon” she said and she took his hand. It was terror, he was afraid to speak to her. “You don’t like those boys?” she asked and he smiled but it disappeared quickly behind his giant scared eyes. He shook his head.

“What’s your name? Why are you walking around down here?”.

First question: “Aron” he said after a long pause. It dropped out of his mouth like a stone. “That’s a cute name” she said encouragingly.

Second question: “I was just looking around”.

“Who are you looking around for?” she was looking straight ahead.

“No one”

“Do you want some soda?”

He nodded his head. He felt a dot of sunshine in his chest. Soda was fun, he loved soda!

They continued down that street passing a row of brightly colored houses. He stared at a big orange house and she asked “You like that house?”

He nodded. “I like that house too” She said enjoyably. “It’s pretty”.

The corner store: Five boys were outside. They were half a block away. The boys lit up when they saw her. He felt every pore of his body want to pull away and run.

“Oh yo is that your baby?” one of them yelled at her clapping his hands together. He had a mustache.

“Yea he’s my baby”

“Is that your man?” Another shouted in a high voice. Then high voice turning directly to him leaned down grinning and pointing “that’s your girl right?”

He didn’t know how to answer but he knew he should say yes, he nodded.
Everyone started laughing even the girl. For a few seconds it was an uproar.

She said with a full smile “I’m your girl??” and with out hesitation he nodded again.

They jumped up and down laughing. And he started laughing too, almost uncertainly like he wasn’t allowed too, but he laughed; it danced through his bones.

They walked inside now, all of them. The girl walked back to the refrigerators and opened it. She yelled out “You like coke or pepsi?” He said pepsi.

“Me too” she said approaching the counter with two cans in her hand.

The boys were all around them. They were talking all at once.
One of them kept saying “Yo are you gonna kiss her? Are you gonna kiss her, Are you gonna kiss her?”

He nodded but no one else was looking so no one laughed this time. The guy then yelled out “yo he said he’s gonna kiss you” and was laughing loud. “Oh shit he said he’s going to kiss you!”.

No one payed attention to him, so no one else laughed. He walked over to her side and they walked out together. She opened one can she put in a straw for him, then she opened her own and did the same.

One of them yelled “yo you gonna fuck him now”?

She yelled back, “you watch your fucking mouth” and we walked away from them. Not one of them tried to come with us.

At the next corner we sat on the curb.

“Why are you wearing that sock on your arm?”

He didn’t answer. He felt scared. He shook his head.

“It looks weird”.

“You live around here?”

He nodded.

“Where at?”

“I live near the train tracks” he said.

“You want me to take you home?”
He wanted to say no but he nodded. They dropped their soda cans into the sewer and she walked beside him until he reached his home.

“You don’t let none of those boys bother you like that okay?”

He nodded, and he said bye, and walked behind his house.

A moment later he edged back out onto the sidewalk and watched her walking away.

She was fun he liked her.

He followed her down the block, behind the cars. A few blocks later he hid in the bushes and watched her walk back to the home where the other boys had gone. She knocked on the door and the purple one opened it and she went in side. He watched the house and it was quiet. There was no sound on the street.

He crossed over and made his way to the house. Crouching down near the windows he listened but it was quiet. He didn’t even hear a tv. He went the whole way around the house but nothing was happening. He started to feel scared so he crossed the street and after a while he started walking again.

He ran his hand across a yellow car. There were scratches and dents on the surface. One part had the paint pealing off and he stopped to pick at it, the chips of paint crumbled in his hand.

A dog started barking and an old man stepped onto a porch and yelled, “GET THE HELL AWaY FROM THAT CAR”, walking down the steps toward him.

He ran up the street, the old man leaned down at the car looking at it carefully shaking his head.

The park was near by so he went there. There was a high wall that ran along some grass and he tried to climb it but it was too high. He waited until it got shorter and then he threw his leg over it.

He would cut thru the forest and get to the swings. Maybe no one would be on the tire.

The leaves crunched under his feet and he didn’t think about it. The clouds drifted thru the sky like soft cotton but he did not even see it. A butter fly fluttered past his nose but his mind was else where.
He followed the path of dirt where the leaves had been worn away. There were beer cans and a few spots where the leaves were burned.

His arm started to feel sore.

He heard some kids laughing as he walked thru the break in the black metal fence. The park was crowded but not like usual.

There was a girl he knew that he had never seen outside of school. She didn’t look at him when he came down the steps. He walked over to the monkey bars, then past the see saws and stood by the swings. She was on the third swing and there was another boy beside her on the second. He was swinging really high. It looked really fun.

He moved closer and sat on an empty swing. The high swinging boy was two swings away. He was standing up now and it looked scary. He watched with frantic awe.

The boy made a sound, it sounded like “HUHWOA” and then he dropped from the swing at its highest point onto his back landing on the rubber matting.

He was gasping for air still lying flat on his back.

The girl from school said: “are you okay?” really loud.

And he didn’t answer, but he sat up slowly.

She looked at me.

He stood up now looking at no one and walked away.

She looked at me again and said “That guy is so stupid” laughing.

I laughed too.

We were both swinging now. Two empty swings between us.

There were birds singing and wind in the trees. It was nice out.

I looked over at her and she wasn’t there. I saw her walking through the bushes past the water fountain. I never see her outside of school.

There was no one on the tire swing, but it didn’t seem that fun today. There were no other kids around. Maybe it was too late for the other kids to play.

Passing the water fountain he took a drink, and walked out to the sidewalk. He ran his hand along the black iron fence.

Across the street he saw the girl from school with some boys who were playing basket ball. She was sitting on the ground; she looked like she was staring at me so I waved at her, but she didn’t wave.

How do you know if something is fun? The swings weren’t fun today.
An older boy on a bike was passing him and he was crying. His face was red and he was sobbing loudly. He had a white shirt on and blue jeans.

The walk home felt longer than usual. He was sleepy and it was starting to cool down, the sky was getting dark.

The streets seemed emptier than usual and quieter.

He walked up the hill, past the train tracks and down his street. He walked through the drive way and went into the side door. He stepped into the dark damp hallway, and glanced down the basement steps. The cat was standing down there looking up at him like he was afraid. He closed the door.

In the kitchen the ceiling fan was spinning, Mom had her head on the table, and the newspaper under her face would rise and fall with the spinning blades. He turned the light on so it wasn’t so dark. She didn’t move or pick up her head. He choked out one word:

Mom?

And waited.

When she didn’t respond he turned around and went up stairs. At the top of the stairs was the mirror. He watched his dark silhouette enter the frame, he sat down on the top step. He reached into the hole in the wall and pulled out one of his army soldiers and put him in his pocket. He saw thru the open door that dad was asleep. He lied on his side facing the window; his breathing was heavy and dark. He stepped inside and listened. There wasn’t too much noise from out side. It was mostly quiet.

His father, sensing some one in the room, rolled over and sat up. He stared at him. “What are you doin?” his father asked.

“I just got home”.

His father rolled over.

He went into his own room now closing the door behind him. The bed was made and he turned on the tv.

It was the news.

He put his army man into a jeep and drove it across the room.

THE END

2006-11-10T21:32:00.000-08:00

Tales of crime and destitution:

I threw a watermelon off my balcony just to see what would happen, and I hit a squad car on the roof. They got really mad and like 10 more cars showed up with sirens blaring. I hid under my mom’s bed and I didn’t open the door, but the super let them in. I was embarrassed because I was naked too, in a moment of panic I took off all my clothes. That was stupid! They yelled at me, and asked me if I thought I was being funny! I said no and that I knew it was wrong. They took me in and put me in a cell until my mom came home. I didn’t like that. Throwing a water melon off my balcony was cool at the time but getting in trouble for it really made it less fun y’know? I should have tried to bribe those police, I have a lot of money from selling drugs.

Aaron age 9
Tulsa

Dear TOCAD,
One day I was riding my bike and there was a lightning storm. I was wearing a full suit of armor and carrying seven opened umbrellas, riding on a wet treeless hill top. You will not believe what happened. I am telling you, you WILL NOT believe what happened. The clouds did thunder and light things and a bolt of electriktikky shooted down on the ground and I was very badly electrocuted!!! Then twenty five police cars pulled up and arrested me cuz I killed a lot of people for no reason that day. Getting struck by lightning was cool at first until it started to hurt and burn me, and killing was nice but not nice because I am now in jail and get beat up all the time. But I am lucky because I am melted so I don’t get raped all the time, but sometimes I still get raped which is bad because it hurts and I don’t like to be raped on my butt.

Ely Cukold
(im in jail)

If you would like to submit your story to “crimes and destitution” send a self addressed envelope to :Crimes and Destitution: POBOX Lightning Ninja, Mulberry blazam cresent, MY 41578 with the subject: I am a stupid person.

2006-10-30T20:40:00.000-08:00

CLUB CANDY

Bob: So what happened?

Chet: Same thing that happens every year. She took all of it. She said she’ll give me one piece a day.

Bob: That fucking bitch. I’m sick of mothers trying to control us! Who do they think they are?

Chet: our mothers.

Bob: THAT’S NOT THE POINT!!

Chet: She said Shell give me one a day but she’ll just do what she does every year. She’ll throw it out.

Bob: Throw it out? Puh-leaze!! Mother Hood is fraught with corruption. We can’t let the “mothers” take away our Halloween candy every year. Maybe we could organize, get the kids together and follow our dream: PLANET CANDY. Tim is good with electric stuff he could build a rocket and Ryan is an asshole, and with all of the kids together we can over power our mothers and steal back our candy once and for all. Then we will board the mother fucking rocket and fly off to a distant galaxy and find an uninhabited planet where we can live uncucumbered. We’ll plant the candy in the soil and we will grow forests of candy and be free like the happy children we were meant to be! Free of the villainy of motherhood.

Chet: Your plan has some holes.

Bob: LIKE WHAT?

Chet: Um...never mind. Maybe we could just start a club or something.

Bob: and take the easy road? Sure! WHAT’S THE POINT OF THAT?

Chet: and what was that thing you said about Ryan, he’s an asshole what would that do to help us?

Bob: Oh nothing I hate him he’s an asshole I hate Ryan.

Chet: and I guess, I don’t think candy grows when you plant it.

BOB: God you’re so dumb! Cocoa comes from trees! Haven’t you ever heard of a cocoa leaves? What do leaves grow on asshole? You wanna tell me that? Holy shit you’re dumb!

Chet: trees, but...

Bob: And don’t start all that bullshit that candy is made in factories, its bullshit. You’re so naive. I’m so sick of being surrounded by stupid babies. Do you know how much it would cost to make thousands of little chocolate bars in a factory? Listen to yourself you sound ridiculous. A chocolate bar would cost like a million dollars! I know this kid who said he was in a forest once and he saw a giant snickers bar growing out of the ground! Its fertile earth you idiot.

Chet: I don’t know. Wait -hold on. My mom says I have to get off the phone.

Bob: look at you, powerless before her will. Pathetic. This is the new beginning we’ll take them wait– Ow, ow, I’m sorry mom. I’m sorry. Ow. Wahhhhhh.

Chet: Bob?

Bobs mother: Bob has to go to sleep. Who is this? Is this Ryan? I’m going to speak to your mother Ryan, and YOU are GOING to return Bobs action figures do you hear me? Do you hear me? And how dare you step on his lunch box. Do you think that’s nice? Is that what they teach you to do in your home? It is passed Roberts bedtime and he has to go to sleep you little hooligan. CLICK.

Chet: (hangs up phone). MOOOM.

Chets mom: yes dear?

Chet: Can I have a snickers bar?

Chets mom: Not before bed dear, I’ll put one in with your lunch tomorrow.

Chet: Okay mom. Mom?

Chets mom: Yes?

Chet: Does chocolate bars grow on trees?

Chets mom: What? Hahah hahaha HAHAHHA I’m sorry. HHHAHAHAH. Bwaa hHA HAHAHH HHAHHA oh god HAHAH HAHAHAHAH HAHAHAAHAHAHAH HHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH. I’m sorry Chet. I’m sorry BWAAAAAAA HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. WAWAWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA HAHAHHHHAHAHAHAHAH cough cough cough BWAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAH cough cough cough cough cough. Cough cough cough. Ha ha ahhh ha. Haha. I’m sorry Chet. Hahaha haha. What ever gave you that idea? Ha ha ha. Oh dear lord im sweating ha-ha.

Chet: nothing.

Chets mom: okay honey now go to bed. (Turns out light)

(From the other room)

Chets dad: on trees? BWA ahaha hahah Haha are you kidding?

Chets mom: No he really asked me that!! Aha BWAAAA haha hahahaha.

Chets dad: HA HA HA HA OH stoppit he did not HAHAHAHAHA hahah. Oh my sides.

Chets mom: He did too, hahaha haha hA HAHA I can’t breathe. HAHAHAHA HAHAHAH.

Chets dad: Cough cough cough HAHAHAH hahahah AHHHH Oh god oh god HAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHA please stop it hurts HAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHA.

Chets mom: WHAHAhahahahahahaha haahahahahahahahaha. Cough cough cough.

Chets dad: ah ha ha..ha oh. God oh dear. That kid is dumb Rita. Ha-ha ha. That kid is freaking dumb.

Chets mom: You’re the one that dropped him asshole and stop eating all the kit kats.

THE END

2006-10-10T20:58:00.000-07:00

DYING TO MEET YOU part 2

Do you know where we are?

I have no idea. Did I fall asleep?

You were asleep.

We were on the couch right?

Yeah in the living room, All the lights were on.

Its dark here, do you see anything?

Just black, are you close? Put out your hand, let me follow your voice.

Say something.

I’m here, I’m here Michael, my hand is out.

I found you I found you, oh my god.

Were you scared?

I thought maybe we were disembodied voices, that we weren’t really here.

Like spirits?

God, maybe were ghosts Margaret! What happened?

Nothing happened, we were just laying there.

What do you think it is?

Now? Where we are?

I don’t know, is it a room?

HELLO!!!

There was no echo.

Margaret don’t let go of my hand, please. Let’s start walking this way and see if we can find a wall.

Okay, don’t go to fast, the floor could be uneven.

I wont.

Do you hear foot steps? How can it be so quiet?

Oh Michael, I’m scared.

Don’t be scared.

What if we’re dead Michael, I think we died!

We can’t be dead if were still thinking. I’m thinking cant you feel your thoughts?

I’m thinking about cats, my mother’s cat is fuzzy and black.

I’m thinking about cartoons, Hanna Barbara Fred Flintstone and my favorite yellow socks on the window sill, in my bed room.

That means were alive doesn’t it?

It means we exist, some where.

Do you see anything?

I don’t think.

You?

No.

Maybe we should go in a different direction now?

No wait I see something, do you see it? Up ahead, it looks very far.

It looks like a light, Michael lets run, lets run! I want to get out of here.

Margaret no, please. Wait, Margaret wait.

Its there Michael its there, its really there, hurry we can go together.

Margaret wait for me Wait WAIT!!!

She was running now and she was way ahead, Michael was afraid of stumbling and falling into an abyss, Margaret was hypnotized by the light, she was afraid of being trapped inside.

As they grew closer they saw that it was an arched door way that opened out of the black ness into bright white light.

Margaret reached it first and cried out with Joy:

Michael, haha, there is a way out! Were free again! Were free!

Wait for me Don’t go out side don’t go out side!! Wait for me!!!

Despite his fear he began to run furiously, it was like the energy came from outside of himself, like he was summoning it.

His mind nearly burst when he saw her tender figure pass through the arched exit

“No Margaret no!

Moments later he too reached the arch and passed through it with out a pause, it led to a forest, a great clearing just before the trees, the ground was covered with snow and the air was icy and cold, his breath ran out before him in a cloud. He screamed:

MARGARET!!!

She was no where in sight.

A white wolf ran out of the trees at him and he leapt back, the opening from which he had exited was now gone and he pressed up against a heavy flat wall. The wolf looked him and shook his head.

God you people are dumb.

Micheal just looked at him, unblinking and staring.

What is wrong with all of you, don’t you see what this is? Your safe in there and it doesn’t matter they always come toppling out into the cold, you’re a bunch of damned fools.

Where’s Margaret?

Who’s that? Your better half? hahaha Maybe the woods opened up and swallowed her, maybe she hit the air and froze shattering into a billion pieces and exploded.

Did you kill her? What did you do to her?

Did I? What do you think I ate her? Yeah that’s a good one man. Here look at this.

The white wolf reaches its paw into a small leather pouch on its hip and pulls something out, it presses it with his paw against his nose.

Michael stands before the wolf incredulously.

The white wolf blinks at him and grins, a round red clown nose at the end of his face.

What you don’t think this is funny?

I just don’t understand.

Of course you don’t, you never do and you never will!

Where is she? Is she in another dimension?

The wolf shrugged:

Could be.

Are you sure you saw her come outside?

Yes I’m positive I distinctly remember.

Ok now were getting some where.

Am I trapped here?

No you’re not trapped, follow me.

The wolf led Michael through the woods. The tall trees stretched up into the sky as if they were endless, above there was a fog that hung over them like a ceiling that was slowly lowering down. There was an icy mist on the wind but Michaels white button down shirt was soaked with perspiration as he trudged through drifts of snow. All around them were white wolves weaving through the trees as though they were all on their own private mission.

Where are we going?

No questions just follow me, and don’t do anything stupid.

Micheal obeyed and tried desperately to keep up as the wolfs speed began to gradually increase. He tried to speak but he couldn’t get any air, and the faster the wolf got, the more frightened he became that he would be left behind again and lost forever. He felt it in his body like a switch; it was a distinct feeling like turning on a lamp, he felt like he was on fire, and his legs kicked out in front of him like he had no control any more, like a locomotive engine.

The wolf and he ran side by side though the woods, leaping over fallen trees and small frozen ponds and lakes, their momentum grew and grew until everything around them passed by in a blur, faster and faster until the wind stung their eyes and the force of their movement created a whirlwind that stirred everything in their wake, the ground rumbled, and the trees shook and bent beside them. If you saw them you would think there were moving in slow motion, their figures bent and blurred together a singular rampaging force. Up ahead was a cliff and they both leapt at the same time, the massive rush of wind that followed them pulled a dozen trees out of the ground and hurled them into the sky behind them. The pair lifted off the ground and drifted into the sky until they finally came to a complete stop in the middle of the cool night sky.

But…What now?

The wolf turned to face him, his clown nose in place.

We wait.

2006-10-05T18:47:00.000-07:00

James JAJAC
1998

I sit and wonder. The mysteries of the earth and the dismal simplicities of life. Why do people live when death is so easy? Miserable and embarrassing. A dime rolls across the floor. People are too fat these days. Clearly evident to people on this side of the room. A dog is salty and does not know math. I presume that this will make him a lesser individual in the eyes of the intellectual. “hum bug” they say to me in quiet response (secretly I laugh). Nobody cares to see the world I have invented. The vortex in my palm. Red spirals mark my way. The door is eternally, externally closed and more specifically shut. Nobody loves the man who is I. I wait for the shallow under birth of my enemies. They wait with the hope of victory (and I secretly, with the same). A hopeless game that brings me more pleasure than I care to tell. Nobody does care for fellows such as myself. It is the cross that I bear. I do not act ashamed of such things. It is hardly my business to do so. My friend calls me on the telephone to tell me he’s forgotten my middle name, I remark to him “But I have never told you of it”, he calls me a hypocrite and a liar and tears up the bond that we have signed. Nobody is good to be known by me. My phone number is a painful reminder of the darkness that resides outside of your very doors. I always wonder mocking myself what it is that I do so wrong. Who is it that I harm so dearly? Everybody smiles at this question and I smile back (fearfully worrying that it is malicious laughter aimed at my self rather than a friendly musing). I tell myself to eat everything in the room and I shall grow big and fat and the world (all of them this time!) will admire me. Revere me! Worship me and promise to remember me for all of time remaining. I blush and smile at their declarations but secretly I build up and worship myself for fear that they only tell me stories. No one must know for our agreement is sacred, As is my ego (which I currently attempt to etch into stone). It is such a salty experience to deal in such matters. I shrug them off as leaves in the fall. I am a winter tree. Ever more. I wonder at clocks and batteries and where they find their strength. So much agility. I myself revere such talents and trail behind them at times when I am low. The world is my friend I have wasted my youth to know him. He tells me all his (it’s) secrets now and I laugh at the splendor of it all. The laughter always, regrettably, turns to weeping upon the approach of others, shattering my mighty façade that shows its weaknesses only (damned thing) in the presence of others. I try to hold it up to my face angered and red, embarrassed and stupid. Clutching, searching my brain for the right (the closest) anecdote to maintain composure, my ‘cool’ if you will permit me. It almost always ends in the disheartening of my soul. Unless that is if I am tired then it will roll under my eyes and fall asleep in the nest of my ears where it (mind you) can only sleep when my brain rests in the fog of its own slumber; a situation that suits me rather plainly. I raise no objections as well, as long as it suits me quite plainly which is (rather) where I like it to be. I can hold myself and my shoulders as high as my anatomy will permit me in such conditions which rarely does prove much to myself (or those around me), I always feel that (though it would be ridiculous to acknowledge) that they secretly beneath their own consciousness, that they mock me and ridicule me to their hearts content, which absolutely suits me just fine. A man of spite that I am such a claim does me no harm. I feel sad in the presence of others (“others”), I don’t feel that they respect me, which I do not require. I spin tall bottles on their tops to see them shatter when the sun sets, which they always do. A peculiar motion which fascinates me regardless of the date time or number of instances with which I have seen this marvel enacted. It’s a spice to the senses. I act slowly and compose myself as does a great musician, with care and passion.

I wear my favorite suits when no one is around to see me at my best. They could never understand what it takes to create such a character. The spools and the hours it dominates. I wonder who will it be that ends my sorry stance. That knocks me from that metaphorical plain of existence (be that as it may). I do not feel I have the worlds to wander I do not feel the freedoms of the birds. I do not have a splendor to carry me through over the roof tops away into freedom. I am in a place, a space that is closed and I feel that now more than ever. The dingy walls are closing in onto me, faster every day every year, every second, they hold my breath just a bit more. The hands on my throat.

I open balls of orange sunshine with toe nail clippers given to me as a child. for me to find (this is mine to create). The distance at times is too great. I’ve read a group of novels that explain the grand steps to take me there. I feel futility in my bounds. The world is bright green and yellow when I feel happiness exuding from within me. I cling to it with exasperated emotions. Rotten and cold. The colors fill me emphasizing the darkness surrounding me forcing me to smile. A smile that turns into a wince beneath the mighty weight (burden). I open boxes of balloons, bright red ones into the skies, I delight at the laughter it brings. I open them one after the other. Hundreds and hundreds, thousands and millions fill the sky. When night comes the red turns purple and to black and a gloom over takes my surroundings which I can no longer handle. A gloom I have had the misfortune to create (in an unfortunate state of mind). The moon is an open road when I call it. Destiny will fulfill the emptiness that clings to me. Bright in the darkness absent at day. I wish for it to come into my sight. It relieves the doubt of creation, of excavation. It splits into shapes that form patterns, complex patterns, in my mind. Diversions, that expel unnecesary demons. A deep spiral. It begins always and ends, only subsides. I watch it spin around me. Dark in every corner bright along the cobwebs of the ceiling. I always laugh when the world turns cold. Forced out of me when I least expect it. A smile (turns into a frown so quickly I don’t have the time to notice). The wind is always cold in the winter the sun is always hot in the summer. The obvious is always eternally taken for granted because we are never with out it. It is just that.

I don’t have the soul of a poet or the happiness of a new born child. My smile evokes sadness (and pity alike). I don’t have the beauty of a flower in blossom. I only know that (to me (forever) the cracks in the plaster and the ruins all around me always appear so much more interesting (from my hollow perspective) and so much more important than anything else when ever I’m left alone to laugh at nothing at all. “I whisper fairy tales to children (compulsively)” Because I’ve got nothing else to do. The world isn’t helpful to me unless it gives me an answer.

This is only an excuse.

2006-09-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

The Bride of the Monster

Day 1
She bought me a Frankenstein mask for my birthday. Does that mean she thinks I’m a monster?
I suppose it fits my sense of humor, I’m just not quite certain I get the joke (or that it even is one). Is it at my expense?

Day 2
Okay, so I came home today and she had her hair done up, like the bride of Frankenstein! What the hell is going on? She said it was a joke but…
We had sex though which was just great, she was really into it. I’m just glad she didn't ask me to wear the mask.

Day 3
How weird is this? There is a Frankenstein marathon on TV this week! Everyday there they play 3 movies in a row. I know this because they are circled in the TV guide in red. She’s not home yet, what the hell?
** I just found a copy of “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein” under her pillow!!

Day 4
She asked me to wear the mask in bed today; to wear the mask when we had sex. I should say HAD because I did it; I’m such a coward. I actually kind of got into it, I felt like I was some one else. This will either destroy me or make me a better person. HAHA What the hell am I talking about?

Day 5
She was restrained today. No mention of the monster all day! We got through the whole day until we climbed into bed and she switched on the television; the Bride of Frankenstein, Son of Frankenstein, and Curse of Frankenstein. I don’t think Cosmopolitan ever covered this. Son of Frankenstein was very funny; Mel Brooks must have been inspired by this! (I keep forgetting that the Monster isn’t Frankenstein –It’s the doctor).

Day 6
When I woke up she was drawing stitches around my wrists with a sharpie, like my hands had been sewn on. She started doing this all over my body. It was frightening but it ended up turning me on. Just having her hands all over me first thing in the morning was hard to resist. This time she wanted to wear the mask and I had to put my foot down. I cannot have sex with a girl in a Frankenstein mask, I would rather die.

Day 7
Today was actually a beautiful day. We took a walk in the park and we just talked and laughed about stuff. She talked about Frankenstein and how beautiful she thought the book was and all these weird and fascinating ideas she has on the subject (like what it represents etc); nothing pretentious, nothing over the top or fanatical, just straight good fun thinking out loud. She’s really attached to the subject, she may have been attracted to Herman Munster when she was younger, she said something akin to that in passing but I didn’t want to press the issue. She said she sometimes goes through phases like this. Over all it was a great day, it explained a lot and took the edge off a bit. I hope this starts to fade out, I get worried about where this could be going.

Day 8
She didn’t come home last night and she’s not answering her cell phone. I sat on the bed and stared at that fucking Frankenstein mask on the floor, and then I kicked it across the fucking room. How can I get this off my mind? Should I call the police? I can’t escape it.

Day 9
There was a knock at the door at 4am. She looked like she had been crying and she hugged me so hard, I knew something must have happened. She sat down on the bed beside me and started to kiss me and touch me but I stopped her and asked what was going on. I asked her where she had been, and she was silent for a long time.

She said she had slept at the cemetery.

And then I was silent. Did she need me to understand? Is she trying to shock me or scare me away? Does this have anything at all to do with me? I care about her deeply and now I’m torn between my loyalty to her and my loyalty to myself. I don’t want to abandon her if she needs me. Maybe she didn’t sleep at the cemetery? Maybe it’s all a huge lie to manipulate me? How can I know the truth?

Her shoes are covered in mud.

Maybe she’s telling the truth?

I don’t know what to believe or what to think, but her eyes are warm and needing and when she starts to suck on my fingers I quickly lose track of the subject. I have never seen her like this before, she screamed, she was insatiable.

She held onto me all through the night. At one point I thought she was sobbing. Should I run for my life? She’s like a different person.

Day 10
Something is definitely wrong. She’s normal today. While I slept she straightened up. . She had breakfast waiting. The kitchen shined, the windows were clean, even the cabinets; It looked like she had been cleaning for hours.
She had her old sense of humor back; she was cool and level and relaxed. I didn’t want to bring it up but I…

She stiffened, but then she just took it in stride. She apologized; it was like she had put it all in perspective in a matter of hours.

When she went to the bathroom later I peeked into the garbage bag, the mask was in there, and “The bride wig”, a few Frankenstein videos, and the book by Mary Shelley. I flipped through the pages and there were under linings. I also saw her notebook, I grabbed them both and began to flip through them, but scared she’d walk back in and see me, I hid them in my bag.

When she came back I was washing the dishes. She put her arms around my waist and hugged me and kissed the back of my neck. I smiled. I turned around and we kissed. Sometimes she’s the sweetest girl, it breaks my heart; I adore her.

That night we talked again for hours. She explained things to me and apologized again. She made it sound like things would be good again. I was prepared for problems with any relationship but nothing like this. We lay down in bed, we were still just talking, then she climbed on top of me and hugged me and we kissed and just held each other. It was reassuring, this is the girl I fell in love with.

She started to undress me and I did the same for her. We had sex until it was dark, then she kissed me on the cheek. So cute.

She rolled onto her side, and I wondered what she was thinking about. Soon I could hear from her breathing that she was asleep. I had planned to go through the book and her note book now, but I couldn’t do it. I would throw them away in the morning.

Maybe we’d gotten through the worst of it?

I was trying to sort through everything in my mind. I’d never wanted a “Normal” relationship and I certainly did not have one.

I could hardly keep my eyes open.

I wanted to have faith in her.

I closed my eyes and a phrase from one of those movies came into my head “We belong dead”. It echoed through my thoughts and it had the ring of something absolutely profound (It was probably stupid), but deep in my heart I knew there was something beautiful about it.

THE END

2006-09-19T08:36:00.000-07:00

At the breakfast table “W” turned to his mother:

My dear has time gone mad?

It has most certainly has not little one, why do you ask?

Well this cereal has lost its crunch its verve its crackle!

Why it’s just soggy, you need to add more flakes.

But it is no such thing, it seems that the crackle that is lost is…within my tiny heart.

Oh poor child you must tell me of the whoa’s that have led to this!

Yes, I suppose I could bare my soul to you, the woman who gave me life- but you see, its not so necessarily about any specific occurrence or series of events that has led me to this moment but rather a sense of monotony that seems to have crawled inside me and scooped out the enjoyment that I would normally associate with these wonderful every day things! It is as though I remember the words and I still speak them, but I no longer know what they mean.

What cereal is it?

Cocoa Flakes

Should I not buy them any more?

Why no they are simply delicious, it’s just that, if only I could still enjoy them and life the way I once did.

I think your going through a crisis little one. You’re turning 4 this year-

Oh stop don’t say it!

It’s true and from what I can remember it’s not an easy year.

You don’t have to remind me!

Do you think that what you’ve lost will never return?

But isn’t that a credible threat?

Why sure it is, but is there not more for you out there in the world? Could you not start to eat “Goody flakes” or “Raisin and nut gobs”?

I suppose so, but what of the things I’ve lost mother? What of them? Tell me quick! I must have an answer!

Oh little “W” how you suffer, you struggle so much for so many things! Who knows what it means to lose interest or feeling for something? Why does it worry you so much, perhaps you have merely lost the taste for it but it will soon return! Have you not thought of that?

I have mother but what I fear most is that the feelings and emotions I have will constantly be fading and adjusting and moving away from me! How ever can I be a credible human being with emotions and thoughts in a constant state of flux? I can’t say I love cocoa flakes today and have no opinion tomorrow! This is not consistency this is not reason! Its heresy pure and simple, this little lad will be the laughing stock of the play grounds with opinions and thoughts that cannot be accounted for!

When you were a baby you held your teddy bear where ever you went, you loved him-

WELL I STILL DO!!! I STILL DO!! MOTHER THAT WILL NEVER CHANGE!!! I LOVE HUGGLES AND I ALWAYS WILL!! (Starts sobbing)

Oh there, there, little angel, oh there, there. Why do you cry like this? I’m not going to take him away from you, but don’t you see what I mean? He is still your best bear is he not?

(Still sobbing) Oh mummy I have slipped, just this morning I played with Duke Power while (sniffle) Huggles sat alone upon the couch! Can you tell me this is the work of a normal human boy? Can you tell me that? I am an animal! I belong in a zoo! Why his plastic beaded eyes must have rolled into the back of his head when he saw me! Oh how I am lanced by emotion! When will it end!

“W” Please don’t cry (she brushes the hair from his eyes). You’ll be ok, I can assure you! Change is not something that you can run from, nor should you be ashamed or afraid of it!

But I am!! I want to stay exactly as I am for the rest of my life! I want to be four until I am a hundred! I want to be holding the hand of Huggles as I plunge into the sanctity of nothingness!

Would you-! Don’t speak this way! You’re but a little lad now, you can’t stay as you are! There are so many changes for you to go through, and things for you to experience! Do you know how it makes me feel to hear you speak this way??

What if I wish it mummy? Do you think it would come true? To stay forever the same? No body would ever know, I would tell no one.

Don’t you want to grow up like your mummy? Or Mr.Hemshaw?

Oh I like Mr. Hemshaw mummy! He is ever so much fun!

See! You could be just like him when you grow up, you could be just like all of the adults!

To even think it leaves me gasping, I cannot deny my hesitancy. Are all children like me, why do I ask for so many things?

Children often ask for things they can not have! Like rocket ships and motor scooters-

But I need a motor scooter!!

-Limozines and pianos. Even I constantly ask from the world more than it can give me, “W” life is full of disappointments, it’s an inevitability but you can push past them and grow up into a strong handsome wonderful person! I know you will, your mummy loves you and I will always be here for you!

Always? You won’t be here always, there is no always. I know about dying now, it was in my Dostoevsky book. There are so many things I cannot escape.

Yes death is inevitable too and one day I will die, just like every one will-

And me too mummy.

(Mom starts sobbing) Oh how can you SPEAK THIS WAY? You should never die! I never want to hear you speak about it again! As far as I’m concerned you’ll live forever! I never want to think about your death and I never want you to think about it or speak of it again- DO YOU HEAR ME??

I’m Sorry.

Things change and people grow up and move on, things are always shifting, and nothing can stay the same…nothing at all.

I didn’t mean it, I was scared…

I am too “W”, but being scared is a part of life, just as it is to be happy and full of energy and laughter. You have to learn accept life as it comes and not cling to an idea of what you think it should be! Life will be what it is, and your ideas must rise to meet them so that you may never be let down.

You say all of this, but there must be more, couldn’t there be more?

(Sigh) I suppose there could be. I suppose that while I have been bending myself to fit into narrow spaces my whole life I could have pushed and opposed and fought for the things I needed. Maybe I am the one who needs to learn something about life; maybe I’ve lived a life of mistakes and error.

No mommy!

It’s a thought. I’m allowed to doubt, just as you are and you can be scared and I can be scared and we can both be scared of different things at the same time.

But I don’t want to make you sad mummy.

I’m not sad, I’m very happy and I love you very much! You are my most beautiful cutest smartest boy in the entire world! Maybe you’ll change everything and soon every one will say, “Not since ole “W” showed up have I had to despair, life has meaning again, huzzah huzzah”!

What is Huzzah?

Oh ha ha. I…don’t know! Ha ha that’s silly isn’t it? Well it’s a declaration of some kind meant to signify great joy and enthusiasm, but I haven’t the foggiest notion of what it means. I never thought about it, “Huzzah..Huzzah” haha oh what a silly word it is! I can hardly believe people would shout it at the top of their voices! Ha-ha oh how silly it is!

Ha-ha, that’s funny. Huzzah! Huzzah!

Ha ha Huzzah it is! In deed!

Mummy?

Yes dear?

I’m not scared any more.

Oh splendid! Neither am I! Isn’t it silly how you can be happy and sad in an instant!

It tis.

Come here you, give us a big hug and kiss!

He runs to her and throws his arms around her and she lifts him up in the air and kisses him all over his face and he kisses her.

Aren’t you the little trouble maker today with all of your worries.

I know, I guess I didn’t need to worry so much at all, I love you mummy.

Why aren’t you the sweet little boy! I love you too, my cute little one. Do you want more cereal now? I’m going to throw out these soggy flakes.

No I’ve had enough of those! I can hear Huggles calling me, he wants to watch TV.

Oh splendid! We must not forget about good old Huggles! Off to it!

(From the other room)

Oh Huggles stop complaining, I’m here now aren’t I? You’re going to have to learn to accept life as it comes my dear friend, I missed you too, but we must not fear change…for it is inevitable.

The end

2006-09-04T23:25:00.000-07:00

9/02/06
“DYNG 2 MEET U”

Standing on a tall chair he twisted the pale gray bulb into the socket.

“Is it in?”

“Yeah”

From across the room she flipped the switch.

The light hit his eyes and he toppled backward off the chair landing onto the couch.

“My god Margaret, give me some warning next time!”

“Next time? Are you planning on making a habit of this?”

“Maybe I am. I might have some other bulbs that need changing; you could be my light box mama”.

She walked past the fire place and fixed her hair in the mirror.

Michael sat up and leaning on his elbow he looked her over.

“You look great”.

She smiled at him through the mirror as she brushed the hair out of her eyes.

“I’m a wreck”.

“No you’re a beauty, you radiate like the sun”

“Would you stop” she said laughing out loud.

“Do you ever listen to the things you say?”

“I know I’m ridiculous, my every thought is another fanciful embarrassment that I can never live down, but I can’t make them go away so I speak my mind and suffer the consequences, I’m a true martyr”

“Well your lucky” She said as she made her way around the couch, switching on a lamp on the way “I happen to think it’s cute”.

“You do?”

“Man that is pretty lucky, I have to say.”

She stood before him now and he lay back and folded his arms across his chest. She leaned over and held her face just above his.

“You’re side ways you know”

“Maybe you’re just crooked”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“You should kiss me so we know for sure”

She moved her face close to his and their lips pressed together, when they pulled apart he sighed aloud.

“I’m definitely the crooked one”

“Is there room on that couch for me Monsieur?”

“Yep, please join me!”

She lay down beside him and kicked off her shoes. They hit the floor with two heavy thumps.

“Heavy shoes”

“That’s what they call me”

“I’m glad you could come over tonight Margie”

“Oh me too”

“I really missed you last week”

“I missed you too Michael”

There is a brief pause.

“So do you love me?”

“What?”

“Oh nothing, it’s silly, I didn’t mean it in some giant royal spectacle sort of way, just more like- It doesn’t mean anything…” He trailed off trying to find the words

“I shouldn’t have said anything, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment; I just felt so close to you then. Everyone makes such a big deal about it, you can love candy you can love puppies but we can’t love each other with out the alarms going off.”

“So what are you saying that you love me?”

“I’m not saying anything, I don’t want to talk any more, is that okay? Can we just sit here again?”

“Okay”

He turned onto his side and pressed against her. They sat like that curled together, Margaret stared up at the ceiling, her mind drifting all across the room, and Michael lay beside her with his eyes closed lost in his thoughts and drifting through the comfort of being alone with her.

She moved closer and pressed her body against his; she reached out and touched his hand.

She sat like that, staring and thinking for some time until she broke into a smile and laughing, turned to face him:

“You’re a silly boy Michael” She said in a whisper.

She waited but he didn’t answer.

“But I do love you”

He didn’t respond; and she could tell he was asleep by his breathing.

“Grand, royal, or spectacular, what ever it is...“

“…I’m glad to meet you”

And just then they disappeared in a burst of smoke, and the once bright room grew slowly- gradually- dim.

THE END

2006-08-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

Martha’s Maid 8/03/06
By James JAJAC

He stared after her anxiously and called out “Martha, please…”

She broke her stride and halted and bowing her head, she looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were obscured by the night but her feelings were as transparent as the moon above and he could feel the death in her heart because it was the same pain he felt it in his own.

She joined him again on the path, the dirt road that led to her family’s estate, and they continued their walk.

“Why do you have to go? She asked again “You said you would always be here for me, I believed in you”.

It was as though she could read his every thought- he remembered saying those exact words only a few shorts months ago, lying together by the stream on a night just like this one, their naked bodies touching on the cold grass, still wet from their swim, he sat over her, his wet hair curling into her eyes, he said he loved her and he said he would never leave her, she pressed her lips to his, they were so cold, and she giggled and hid her face, he pulled her hands away to reveal her happy smile, her cheeks flushed red and he held her. That moment froze in his mind; he remembered her eyes and the surprise and excitement of their forbidden joy, the carefree distraction: watching the stars, talking over the sound of rushing water, the howl of a distant wolf, and the gentle push as the wind pressed the leaves above them. It was so silent then, so perfect and he turned to her again on that path, so far from where they were, and her eyes- they were racked with torment and resentment, so far from what they were- he touched her hand.

She drew to a stop and they turned to each other. He brought his face close to hers and their heads pressed together, he could hear her shallow breathing and he knew that she wanted to speak.

It came in a whisper, “Why do you have to go?” The last word was caught by emotion. He replied raising his hand to her cheek “I don’t wish to go, it is not my doing, but I work for my uncle and he is sending me over seas, my relationship to the business is of the utmost importance Martha- it is the link to my freedom, to my livelihood”

“Your livelihood, your freedom?! You knew this would happen, you never intended to stay with me, you told me lies; you could stay if you wanted to -- you choose to go!”

She pulled away from him, this time staying on the path and rushing toward her home.

“Martha wait!” he extended a hand at her and tried to catch her, “Please wait!”

He grasped her shoulder and she spun around slapping him hard across the face.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME NOW, have you not had enough of this? WHAT DO YOU WANT??”

Her words stung, and he felt weakened in his stance, “Please, don’t talk to me this way, I never wanted to…I never meant for it to…”

She turned away leaving him grasping for words.

“I’m sorry Martha, I’m sorry…” he said to aloud no one.

“… I just want you to hold me”.

The night was heavy and damp, there were fireflies coasting across the high grass and trees that reached and jutted out along the landscape; the moon hung like cut paper over a pale grey sky. He saw her dark figure moving away in the distance; at a loss for how to respond, he watched her disappear like a stranger, but his heart ached, and in his mind the walls were closing, it was never meant to end this way.

“I was afraid” he said to himself in a whisper.

Martha reached the clearing and rushed up the stair case, when she put her hand on the door she saw some one was standing there behind the screen door and jumped back. “It’s only me your lady” she spoke, and stepping aside Martha ran past her and up the stairs. She could hear her reach the top of the landing and the door slam shut followed by the sound of springs squealing as she jumped onto her bed; A moment later Helga could make out distinctly her sobbing from the open window above.

Helga pieced it all together; she remembered the very first time the boy had come, over a year ago now. He was so shy and sheepish, and fat, he was over 300 lbs then and even heavier now, he was the fattest boy in the whole town, than she had ever seen, and as for Martha well she wasn’t much better, weighing 400lbs since she was 6 years old- she had collapsed her bed over fifteen times one year, it had to be reinforced with steel.

The first time she saw him he hadn’t even spoken to her just hid in the shrubs and watched her from afar as she dozed in her chair. Helga spotted him from the window and threw a pot at him, he was knocked unconscious and an ambulance was called, it took 12 men to lift him into the vehicle, and Martha? She slept through it all; she didn’t even bat an eye.

The next time he came was more than a month later. He knocked on the door and asked to speak to the lady of the house- He had brought a doll for her, it was wrapped in newspaper and he handed it to her with some flowers and a note. When she greeted him she curtsied and then he kissed her on the hand. He asked her if he might call again tomorrow and she agreed. She was so giddy that night, she just laughed and laughed and ate and ate, she was so excited! She took three baths and tried on every piece of clothing she had in her closet! She danced around the ball room like a frog and then fell on the piano breaking off two of the legs, and even then on the floor lying upon splintered wood with a grand piano on top of her, she had never seen her so full of joy.

He came that next day, she had sat by the window for so long and despairingly, finally she went away full of gloom fearing that he would never come but as she ascended the stairs there was a knock at the door.

Helga peaked out of the kitchen and Martha waved her hand at her and gestured for her to open the door- Martha ran and hid.

She opened the door and there he was in all of his glory. He had combed his hair but he was absolutely drenched in sweat so it hung down into his eyes, he stammered when she opened the door and dropped his pocket watch shattering its glass.

“Is Mary home” he asked?

“You mean Martha?”

“Oh god yeah I mean Martha, of course, is she home? I could some back if she’s not here, could I leave a note, oh my god I’m so late, tell her that –“

“She’s upstairs, I’ll call her”

“OH!! Good, ok I’ll wait, right—here”.

“Martha dear, you have a visitor”

“Oh? And who is it Helga? I have so many callers it is difficult for me to keep track”

Helga angrily poked her head out of the door “What’s your name?”

“My name my dear lady is Leopold Franklin Escobal”

Helga yelled up the stairs

“It’s Leo-bowl!”

Martha delayed her answer just a second and then chimed cheerfully-

“Ah yes Leopold I had been expecting him” and she began to descend the stairs with such forced grace she almost fell three times.

They stepped out onto the porch that day and they sat together talking and drinking lemonade, it wasn’t until dark that she bid him adieu, and gave him a sweet peck on the cheek. Leopold placed his hand upon his heart and said “My lady you have just blessed me with the kiss of the highest magnitude of beauty, I shall swear upon this moment”.

When he walked away that day Helga could see the effect he had on her personality. She was full of roses then, always peering out the windows longingly, always wearing her best dresses, trying to play the piano and singing aloud to her self.

After that he came every day.

They became inseparable; his name was always on her tongue, until one night 3 months ago. They had gone out and when it grew dark, rather than parting ways at night fall Helga watched them take hands and together they walked down the path gazing into each others eyes.

Leopold tripped on a tree root and toppling onto Martha they both toppled down the hill rolling through high grass and weeds finally coming to a stop near the stream.

Helga washed the dishes that night just howling with laughter, she simply could not get the image of Leopold out of her mind, tripping over a tree root in his royal blue suit and dropping onto Martha in her pastel pink dress, every time she thought of it she simply howled and howled, there were tears streaming down her face, she laughed until she coughed and she coughed until she laughed.

Martha came home very late that night and it would take a damn fool not to put the pieces together- after that day nothing was ever the same between them.

Martha was staring at her thumbs. The shade was pulled down and the lights were off and a thin beam of light broke through it onto her hands. She stared at her thumbs and projected her thoughts upon them. She was lying on her bed and had been sobbing until she could cry no more; the tears had dried on her cheeks like long abandoned roads. The stillness of the room crept up on her and her mind came back into focus and she thought of everything, her life from a little baby to this very day raced through her mind until she was running up the stairs and back to exactly where she was. Her thumbs, there was nothing left in the world but two thumbs; she imagined one of them as Leopold and the other as herself. She acted out some of their adventures, and all the times they had spent together, all the words that had been spoken and all of the feelings shared and all of their dreams. With her thumbs pressed together she imagined the silent moments too when there were no words being spoken, just gazing into each others eyes, like staring into endless ocean, meadows of flowing windswept grass, distant clouds rolling across the country sky, a swarm of birds all flying together or simply the calm and loving eyes of Leopold, beautiful handsome lovely Leopold her magic man, her coconut castle, her stuffed chocolate bean, her—

Her thoughts were interrupted momentarily by the sound of Helga’s laughter. She could hear it from all the way downstairs and it echoed through the room like one long tiny endless explosion.

Leopold was in his uncles den and he was being scolded.

“Young man you are frivolous! You are full of nonsense! Just like your father and just like your father’s father- My father! They were frivolous men Leopold; they cared for nothing and spent their lives lost in distractions! Do you think your father made a penny? Or my father? Do you see all of this around you young man? Do you know where it came from? Well do you?”

Leopold rolled his eyes across the room and thought to him self and then shrugged.

“Of course you don’t, of course you don’t! You are a thought less and gay young man but your gayness will not put a roof above your head! How much I have done for you, how much I have fought to keep you on my staff! You are an oaf Leopold, you have broken more furniture than you have sold for sure, but I keep you on staff, I keep you employed because you are my family and I am putting my faith in you! You are the future of my company and I am depending on you to carry my legacy on, to take my enterprises over seas! An opportunity like this does not just jump out at you everyday; do you not understand what I am offering to you? Open your mouth boy! Speak to me- show me there are more than just feathers in that head!”

Leopold frowned and tried to find something intelligible to say—

“Uncle I’m scared”

His uncle pointed his finger at him and was going to laugh at him until he caught something off of his eyes, and his chest filled up with a river of disappointment.

“What is her name?” he beckoned.

“Her name?” Leopold choked.

“You are the same as your father- you are of this family after all! Are you proud? To throw away our lively hood for a roll in the grass? Is that all this is? So that is from where your hesitance stems! Hahaha. “

Leopold watched his uncles eyes turn black.

“You are of such an ordinary temperament! You are weak! I thought I could take you out of this, I thought I could depend on you to carry on for me, for all I’ve done for you! I dragged you out of the GARBAGE! I thought you were better, but you’re the same junk as everyone else in this town, no discipline no ambition no dreams! You can’t see past your own bloody windows! Don’t you see what I am offering you? Leopold you could have it all! You’re young you could have money, riches, beautiful homes and cars, and women you could have millions of beautiful women at your beck and call every day, this is all in your future, don’t you see? Can’t you see how spectacular it will be?”

His uncle’s arms were spread out wide in a gesture meant to convey the vastness of what lay before him in the life he had prepared for him for as long as he could remember.

He stared at his uncle’s body- wiry thin and gaunt, a suit that clung to him like it was his skin, his grey thin hair combed back across his evil skull and his dark coal black eyes that conveyed not a world of emptiness but an entire universe. Traveling down his face his cheeks suddenly lifted and the skin parted to show a mouthful of grey thin straight teeth, they looked just like him. The grim reaper had an invitation and he was surprised that his nephew was less than excited.

“Come here my boy, have a drink. I won’t press the issue, not today at least. You have some time before the final decision is made.”

He poured him a glass of wine and placed it upon the table and then with his back turned, he left the room closing the door behind him.

Leopold glared at it and thought of shattering it against those doors but instead he left it there refusing to even to touch the glass.

He stepped outside into the main hall and approached the entrance.

A voice called out to him from the top of the stairs as if he were waiting for him-

“It’s locked, in case you were wondering. You won’t be leaving this house, not tonight you won’t. I see where I made my mistake with you; I gave you too much freedom, well from here on you better get used to discipline. Those doors will be locked until I open them- is that clear?”

Leopold nodded his head obediently.

His uncle smiled and shook the keys and walking down the hall a door opened and then closed.

He tried the door any way, it was locked. He checked the windows they were all locked, it was like a fortress, there was no way out, and all of the chocolate was gone.

His conflicts all came to meet each other in his mind, each one of them a separate point came together as one. No longer separate they were now one and the same, he reeled and sat down. He tried again to repeat some of his uncles words in his mind to see if his hollow phrases could ever ring true, then staring out the windows feeling like there wasn’t a decision in the world that belonged to him he put his head in his hands and tried to cry, but when nothing came he just closed his eyes.

THE END

2006-08-01T18:17:00.000-07:00

“The Merry Mountaineer” 7/31/06
By James Jajac

“No sir” I thought aloud, “there aren’t many people in this world who get it up in their heads to eat a mountain” “No sir” I repeated in my head (for dramatic effect).

Just then a kindly squirrel ran up beside me and wiggled his cute squirrel nose at me. I wiggled my not cute human nose at him and we seemed to have a peculiar conversation if only with our noses. Well that went on for several hours and I tell you in the end I haven’t the damdest idea what it was all about, but when that squirrel pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and ran off into the trees, I tells you, I was not about to argue.

I slid my bowl of rocks and pebbles closer, and I pierced my grape juice box with its straw. I figure I should warm up first before I go and try to eat an entire mountain, every body knows it is best to do something gradual like.

That first bowl of rocks was a bit dry, gravely even, it went down hard and sandy and not even the sweet juicy juiceness of the juice box could make them stones any sweeter.

By the tenth bowl however it was much nicer, these rocks were fine and much smoother, it was like the caviar of the stone family, I basked in the moment and as I finished off those smooth delicious white stones I made a startling discovery. They weren’t stones after all, but eggs! I half chuckled and then half stood up and fell back down on my bottom. I suddenly felt a touch sick, I pulled another juice box out of my shoulder sack and before I could even gather the straw out of the wrapper I saw something in the trees that filled my entire heart with terror.

There was a squirrel, the same squirrel I had spoken to long ago. He had a fire in his eyes brighter than seven suns, and I noticed in the distance more squirrels all in a mad gallop coming toward me, they all began to form around me until I could hear a sort of ominous humming coming from each and every one of them. Its pitch shifted and bended on the wind and the sound of the birds disappeared, I turned my head upwards and I saw all through out the trees, the shine of squirrel eyes in the darkness. I saw fangs baring and claws clutching- all obscured by the leaves of the trees that blew like an explosion of green fire all around me, I thought to myself “Hector, I am guessing that you been eating squirrel eggs you silly ole fool you” and I gulped so hard I could swear I heard it echo across all seven continents.

This is a good time for me to relate to you the dream I had three nights ago. Or was it four? Well it started out with me in a shopping mall wheeling a shopping trolley all across the floors of this great big shopping center! I was so surprised and I remember most the sense of giddy gummy joy rushing all through my body! It was so electric I just broke out dancing, I danced so nice that the most beautiful woman in the world (Candice Bergen) walked out of a jewelry shop and began to kiss and caress me with her ten beautiful ‘digits of glory’ fingers. “Oh Candice” I breathed, my chest heaved, I could hardly catch my breath, and she whipped her head, lashing her hair across my face and she said to me “Hector you are a stunning beautiful man who I am completely in love with, who I want to kiss on a building roof”. To hear my every fantasy spoken from the mouth of heaven was too much, I turned away gasping and heaving with tears in my eyes, “Not here Candice, not now” and she reading my every thought agreed to meet me at a later date preferably on a building roof, and we parted, my breast filled liked a chalice with the nectar of the gods. Upon gathering my composure, and sponging the tears from my eyes I found my trolley and I continued on that strange journey. I walked along the isles, looking down each one carefully, until suddenly there was a feeling of great urgency and I spun that trolley down the isle madly and dashed until I came across a box of cereal, the wheels squealed across the floor as I drew to a sudden halt-- it read “Mountain Cereal- made with real stones”! I stepped back in shock and wonder and I just then I woke up screaming and naked on a city bus. That was the day I decided that I would eat a mountain, and I’ve never looked back from then on (It was clearly a prophecy).

A twig snapped re-diverting my attention to the matter at hand.

I took a deep breath and watched all those kooky squirrels lookin’ at me and I decided right then and there they was up to no good. I looked at the squirrel I had spoken to and wiggled my nose, very politely and quizzically yet earnest. The squirrel gave his nose a quick snap and I knew that conversation was over. I’ve never felt before such feeling of complete and certain doom- I was most certainly in a pickle.

An acorn struck my brow and then the panic hit me like a Pavorotti. The squirrels began to rush at me in frenzy; like 170 little fuzzy furious tornados. I raised both of my arms into the sky and I let out the highest most piercing scream of my life, as I turned and began to scurry up the mountain side, scurrying up the path like a little cougar. I rushed and I rushed and with over 80 lbs of pebbles pounding in my belly I suddenly stopped and turned around, it was time to address the situation.

I was struck by something remarkable at that moment - each and every squirrel had stopped at the exact same point, they had stopped and they were now watching me fearfully; It was as if there were a line they could not cross. Feeling suddenly cocky I put my hands on my hips and hitched up my pants really high.

“Well, well, scared are ya? I can’t say I blame ya!. This man before you is a hunk of raw steel! An un-caged wonder of feral mountain fury, a fat juggernaut of—“

That was when the lions and tigers leapt out from behind some boulders and began to maul me. I tried to wiggle my nose but they didn’t seem to understand, perhaps in my fear I failed to articulate properly. They went right at me, claws and teeth slicing through me, until that is 40 minutes later when I noticed that they too had all become frozen with fear and stepped back away from me.

A false sense of arrogance surged right through me again and I puffed out my chin and chest. I yelled out at them all, that line of trembling tigers lions and squirrels and waved my arm:

“Had enough have you? Ah yes, I can understand your fear! I am mighty, few have the power to comprehend this power not at first any way, you see I am like a lump of clay, no not clay but marble, a man of marble sculpted with the wings of bats, wrought with tongs and gilded onto this earth with the force of a --

Then there was a tremendous roar behind me, and a screaming sound that buzzed and shrieked simultaneously.

I turned to see the most frightful thing I have ever seen (prior to the squirrels and lions and tigers):

The shrieking white “WA-WA” Bear of Chainsaw Mountain- White bears born with chainsaws for paws, and the only language they knew was that of the “WA-WA”, which they would shriek continually until their foe had fallen. Its dazzling white chainsaw paws sliced at me, buzzing past me like a cast iron mosquito. I ducked below themt and let out a sob, I tried to kick the bear with a round house kick but only fell onto my side; everything went dark.

The eyes of Candice Bergen gleamed at me in the darkness and she made kissy noises at me until the sound of the WA-WA began to fill my ears and regaining consciousness I jumped to my feet.

The white bear was stepping towards me; both its feet kicking out awkwardly, as its chainsaws whirred furiously slicing through the air. I stepped back ward seeing no way to avoid its attack, I feared the end was near. The WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA, WA’s were all around me, I was just about to tumble into the tender abyss of terror when I reached deep inside of my man guts and found the power!

I found the fury of the mountain activated inside of me! The minerals from all of those rocks and stones must have suddenly ignited in my belly and I lit up like a Christmas tree! An energetic muscular power Christmas tree of FURY!

“Look at my biceps you bastards! CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW TOUGH I HAVE BECOME? I AM SO TUFF, I AM SO TUFF CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW I AM SO TUFF?!”

I leapt from my precipice and I punched that bear with all of my might, it tumbled backwards, appearing dazzled and gasping for breath- it could no longer keep up its WA- WA chant. I ran toward it, my limbs dancing now with the might of one thousand Hectors combined! I leapt into the air indulging in a quadruple somersault and then I landed before that bear like the mother fucking Sunday TIMES. Resplendent I smirked once and then I lifted that bear up over my head and screamed out the name of the woman I love!!

“CAAAANNNNDIIICCCCCCEEEE BBBBBEEERRRGEEENNNNN”

And I threw that bear directly upon the pack of murderous lions and tigers and squirrels. When its body hit home there was a massive sparkling explosion that threw me over a thousand feet straight up onto the top of the mountain.

Dazed I lay there for a moment trying to sort out all of what had happened prior to this moment. The air was clouded with dust and debris and the lions and tigers and squirrels in steam form, it fell all around me like a shroud. Alone in my thoughts I thought of how heroic I was and cool and awesome too. I was so super awesome, oh my god, I am so cool. I remembered my dream and my fingers by my side, they clutched and shimmied, and clutched and shimmied- “The stones Hector, THE STONES!!!!” They screamed!

I sat up feeling giddy, gazing out upon the world, and quickly popping a straw into my juice box I began to sip and ponder.

Upon the gravel I sat and popped a pebble into my mouth did I, and after that a stone. Piece by piece I took it all in, first in nibbles and then in small bites, and then by the hand full-- I ate that mountain down to the soil.

By morning my mission was complete. Now over 7,000 feet tall and as wide as three foot ball fields, I stood and took slow weighted steps through the trees. Slowly I made my way into the town, and squeezing gingerly between the buildings and beaming with pride I approached the highest tower of Bellgrove Heights and rested my head upon its roof top.

I had but a single moment to dream of her before that door swung open and out walked the woman I had been dreaming of. Since before I was even born.

Candice Bergen.

CANdice BERgen

CANDICE BerGEN

Candice Bergen.

She walked right to me and smiled and then she kissed me on the nose.

“I knew you could do it Hector” she said, and I let out several “joy guffaws”, before I finally grew quiet and still and serene.

Our eyes locked in that moment and our love shimmered like stars and we swirled together like two leaves in a galaxy of water falls, twisting down stream and then whirling beside a canoe and finally coming to a rest in the calm shadows of Saturn… Saturn Lake.

“Hector” she said with eyes a-sparkling, “I am now completely in love with you for the rest of all time forever. Nothing will ever make me go away any where because I love you so much and so true because you ate an entire mountain and now our love may never die because you are so full of mountain minerals and vitamins that it will fuel our love until the final absolute ending of time, and even though I’m kind of old now your minerals will rejuvenate me until the earth explodes in 2019 and we will simply dissolve into the stratosphere like two happy heart shaped sugar cubes in love (joy)”

“Do you hear me Hector?” She asked enchantingly beautiful.

“yeah” I said.

“I did”.

THE END