A sestina is a type of poem that follows a strict form, using the last words in the lines of the first stanza as the last words in the lines of seven other stanzas. The form of a sestina can be found here. This is a "walking" poem, which is to say, it will hopefully take your mind on some kind of walk.
His beard is white, and he wears a dirty jacket
His beard is white, and he wears a dirty jacket
he sits on the corner, playing his guitar.
Curled up in the guitar case is his dog.
They are both mangy, but to the dog, the guy’s a friend.
Then some man walks by and throws in some coins
and just keeps walking on his way to work.
That’s what he calls it anyway, he calls it work,
and he hides his cards up the sleeves of his silk jacket.
He collects cars and wives, (cause coins
are just too boring.) But all day the sound of the guy’s guitar
dances in his ear, and he realizes he hasn’t seen his friend
in years. So he goes to his friend’s house. No one’s home but the dog.
He actually doesn’t even know the friend has a dog.
(He knows he doesn’t see his kids cause of all the work.)
He figures the dog’s nice, you know, man’s best friend
but as he peers over the fence it bites a hole in his jacket
and the silk hangs from his sleeve like the strings of a guitar.
He’d throw something at the dog but he gave away all his coins.
It was his daily good deed; handing out those coins.
And it was just trying to play, like any normal dog.
So they play together, (just like that old guy and his guitar.)
As they play, the man thinks about how he hates what he calls work.
He especially hates wearing that silk jacket.
So the man, the dog, and the jacket just roll around, waiting for his friend.
Then he figures out he doesn’t even have a friend.
Over the years he’s gotten rid of them like those coins,
traded them like good baseball cards; the ones you put in those plastic jackets
to protect them, so they don’t get eaten by your dog.
He thinks back to how he hates what he calls work
and he still can’t shake the sound of that old guy’s guitar.
He goes out and buys his own guitar.
Bringing the dog with him, his new best friend,
they go to the office and tell his boss it never was work.
His jacket’s still dirty cause he didn’t have any coins
to throw, and ended up rolling around with the dog,
tearing even more holes in the jacket.
Now the man sits on the corner in his dirty jacket, playing his guitar,
and curled up next to him is his best friend; the dog.
And since cars and wives were as boring as work, he collects coins.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
You Ever Seen Dog Puke?
Forward:
This story is inspired by a true story. I don't know who it happened too or when or where it happened and I do not know the reason it happened, but I do know that it did happen. I saw it with my own eyes... on America's Funniest Home Videos. The sound was turned down a lot so I couldn't really hear everything that the people were saying but the video was so funny, I just had to write this story. So if you see the video that this story is about you can call me a plagiarist or whatever if you want. I don't care. I don't even know if this is considered plagiarism but I am just saying this so you won't think bad about me or anything. This story is not original. But I guess no story is original, it has to come from somewhere. Like actual events for instance. Any way this story is based on actual events.
April 24th, 2006
So yesterday, Grandpa called me up and asked me to come over to do a couple favors for him. I drove to his double-wide over in Springmont Heights, which is a few miles away from my lake house on Lake Fletcher.
He is obsessed with these guns that he owns. Most of the guns he owns are big ones like shotguns and rifles, but he has a few that are handguns. He loves going to the gun shows that we have in town twice a year. One of the gun shows is put on by some charity called the NRA. I don't really know what it stands for but Grandpa has a hat that says NRA and he never takes it off so they must be good people. They probably work with poor, starving children or something. The other gun show is just one that Grandpa's friend Mike Hamburg started. His nickname is Hamburger. Not many people, maybe a couple hundred, come to Hamburger's. The NRA fills the county fairgrounds completely. It is insane.
When I got there Grandpa wanted me to fix his new DVD player we got him for Christmas. We also go him a video camera that records straight on to DVD. He doesn't know how to use either of them yet and I don't think he ever will. The older you become the less connected with technology you become. It is weird, my brother, who is only two and a half can use the internet and he can't even talk in full sentences yet and my Grandpa, who has been here 73 and a half years more than my brother can't even work the TV. He wanted me to get out the video camera and I did. He went to his gun cabinet, unlocked it and took out a few guns. I tried to count all his guns but he has so many that I lost count. He sat in his La-Z-Boy and started fidgeting with one rifle. "Aight now boy," he calls me boy instead of my name, "ware gunna make a production here, ya see? I am gonna sit rat here and yeer gunna stand o'er next to that there table with the camerla." he also adds unnecessary letters, usually Ls into the end of words, like 'camerla' instead of camera, or 'chimley' instead of chimney. "This is for Hamburga's show and I ain't gunna be there on account of being bedridden from my hip surgrely next week. Hamburga said I could show off my guns on a video, so ware gunna make a production." I took the camera to the table and stood there facing him. I turned on the camera. "Now boy, I'm gunna count ta three, and then yeer gonna started recordin' me, kay?"
"Okay"
"Aight, 1...2...3! Action!" I started recording him after three and accidentally got him saying action on tape. He didn't say he was going to say action, but whatever. "Now this babe here is my precious Smith and Wesson Elite Series Gold Grade. She is a twunny gauge semiautomatic with a anglish style stock that is beautiflee hand carved..." Jerry, his pet beagle came and sat infront of his feet. You could tell Jerry wasn't feeling good. You know how dogs do when they are about to throw-up? How there belly starts to contract and they just sit there looking at the ground, probably thinking, 'please don't puke please don't puke please don't...' Well that was Jerry at that moment in time. I could tell that was about to barf so I put zoomed in on him so I could get it on tape. "Now boy, I'm up here! Don't look at the--," that's when Jerry let it out. I promise you have never seen so much dog puke. It had to be a gallon but it was so chunky that it was almost solid. It reminded me of fruitcake. "Aw, dammit Jerry! Aight now boy, go get a towel." I just sat there laughing. "Boy, don't make me tell yeer mama that you was being unobledient over here." I got the towel with one arm and kept the camera on Jerry. Grandpa wiped up the fruitcake and I finished recording him showing off his guns for Hamburger's gun show. There weren't any more chores to do so we talked a chatted for a while and I came home and made dinner.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Swizzger: Family of Four... Vol. IV
Please, my hopeful readers, remember that this was only about a year ago. It all really happened last summer. Since last summer, Sara, with Jack's and her lottery winnings, has quit her job at the grocery and become a poet, living on the island of Honolulu. In the past year she has published 3 books of poetry which are all, in my opinion, fabulous. I chose the first stanza of the first poem of her first book, "Brothers" to end my story, don't you dare read it yet, though, you bastard.
When Sara and Jack arrived at 'Alvin's A+ Liquor and Fine Wine' the sky was a weird, almost greenish-gray. Not really a green if you think about it but if you saw it, then you would know what I mean. Maybe it was more like a yellow. They didn't know that John was inside the liquor store. He was already drunk. He had driven drunk all the way, on a four hour trip through a hell of cornfields from Bird City. He was arguing with the twenty three year old girl working the cash register about his soberness. It was the store's policy to let people who were already drunk by alcohol. When Jack and Sara opened the drawer he thought the store was being robbed.
"I'M NOT DRUHNK, you spupid BIATCH!" John slurred. A little bit of spit dripped into his beared.
"Sir, you are going to have to leave or I will call the cops," said the girl.
"I'M GONNA CALL THE COPS ON YOU!"
"That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."
"Oh yeah? You wanna hear the stupidest thing I ever heard?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"My faggot father's drove their car of a cliff."
"Huh?"
"My dad's... they were gay and they drove off of a freakin' cliff." When John said this, Jack realized who he was.
When Sara and Jack arrived at 'Alvin's A+ Liquor and Fine Wine' the sky was a weird, almost greenish-gray. Not really a green if you think about it but if you saw it, then you would know what I mean. Maybe it was more like a yellow. They didn't know that John was inside the liquor store. He was already drunk. He had driven drunk all the way, on a four hour trip through a hell of cornfields from Bird City. He was arguing with the twenty three year old girl working the cash register about his soberness. It was the store's policy to let people who were already drunk by alcohol. When Jack and Sara opened the drawer he thought the store was being robbed.
"I'M NOT DRUHNK, you spupid BIATCH!" John slurred. A little bit of spit dripped into his beared.
"Sir, you are going to have to leave or I will call the cops," said the girl.
"I'M GONNA CALL THE COPS ON YOU!"
"That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."
"Oh yeah? You wanna hear the stupidest thing I ever heard?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"My faggot father's drove their car of a cliff."
"Huh?"
"My dad's... they were gay and they drove off of a freakin' cliff." When John said this, Jack realized who he was.
There was a pause and the the girl said, "I'm sorry, sir... that's sad."
"Yeah well it's the stupidest thing I have ever heard," said John.
"It's not stupid. It's sad."
"Well it ain't too damn SMART!" John said and stomped out the door. He walked right past Jack and Sara and didn't even see them he was so drunk. Jack told Sara to get the champagne while went out to talk to his brother. They didn't ever recognize each other.
"Yeah well it's the stupidest thing I have ever heard," said John.
"It's not stupid. It's sad."
"Well it ain't too damn SMART!" John said and stomped out the door. He walked right past Jack and Sara and didn't even see them he was so drunk. Jack told Sara to get the champagne while went out to talk to his brother. They didn't ever recognize each other.
Remember, that it had been two years. Two years to the day actually.
"John! Wait... John, it's Jack, your brother!" Jack was kind of nervous to talk to a man in such a belligerent state.
"I don't have a brother," John answered. Jack ran to him and grabbed him. They looked each other in the eyes for the first time in two years. "Jack?"
"Yeah, it's me..." and then, "What the hell are you doing in Kansas City? I thought you lived in Bird City," said Jack.
"I hit the jackpot on a scratch-off"
"No effing way! I --"
"Don't talk like that."
"What? Don't talk like what?"
"You sound gay when you say 'effing'."
"Oh... I won the lottery too, ya know."
"Are you shittin' me?"
"Nope." Sara came out with the Dom Perignon and two crystal champagne glasses. She gave a glass and the bottle to Jack. She licked her finger and rubbed it on the rim of her glass. It said, "Woooooooooooo..." Jack popped the cork out and the champagne fizzed. He poured Sara's glass first, then his, then he gave the bottle to John.
"To Kansas City," he held up his glass.
Sara held up her glass also, "To Kansas City"
John gave a kind of grunted laugh and then, "Kansssstitty." He chugged what was left of the champagne. I think he should go down in history as being the drunkest man to win the lottery.
It was getting cloudier and looking like it was going to rain. It was still that weird yellow color. It also had dropped about five degrees since they had arrived at Kansas City two hours ago.
Alvin's A+ Liquor and Fine Wine was on the edge of a lake called Moon Lake. Next to Alvin's was the First Moon Lake Bank. Since it was really in the middle of nowhere most of the business that the First Moon Lake Bank did was cash checks made out by the lotto office, which was next door. The three walked in the lotto office. Everyone working there thought it was hilarious that they were paying out to two brothers. John thought it was funny that they were laughing about having to cough up 1.5 billion to Jack and 10,000 to himself. He was so drunk though. He was actually on the verge of passing out... and his breath smelled awful.
"John! Wait... John, it's Jack, your brother!" Jack was kind of nervous to talk to a man in such a belligerent state.
"I don't have a brother," John answered. Jack ran to him and grabbed him. They looked each other in the eyes for the first time in two years. "Jack?"
"Yeah, it's me..." and then, "What the hell are you doing in Kansas City? I thought you lived in Bird City," said Jack.
"I hit the jackpot on a scratch-off"
"No effing way! I --"
"Don't talk like that."
"What? Don't talk like what?"
"You sound gay when you say 'effing'."
"Oh... I won the lottery too, ya know."
"Are you shittin' me?"
"Nope." Sara came out with the Dom Perignon and two crystal champagne glasses. She gave a glass and the bottle to Jack. She licked her finger and rubbed it on the rim of her glass. It said, "Woooooooooooo..." Jack popped the cork out and the champagne fizzed. He poured Sara's glass first, then his, then he gave the bottle to John.
"To Kansas City," he held up his glass.
Sara held up her glass also, "To Kansas City"
John gave a kind of grunted laugh and then, "Kansssstitty." He chugged what was left of the champagne. I think he should go down in history as being the drunkest man to win the lottery.
It was getting cloudier and looking like it was going to rain. It was still that weird yellow color. It also had dropped about five degrees since they had arrived at Kansas City two hours ago.
Alvin's A+ Liquor and Fine Wine was on the edge of a lake called Moon Lake. Next to Alvin's was the First Moon Lake Bank. Since it was really in the middle of nowhere most of the business that the First Moon Lake Bank did was cash checks made out by the lotto office, which was next door. The three walked in the lotto office. Everyone working there thought it was hilarious that they were paying out to two brothers. John thought it was funny that they were laughing about having to cough up 1.5 billion to Jack and 10,000 to himself. He was so drunk though. He was actually on the verge of passing out... and his breath smelled awful.
It started raining outside.
After they got there checks totaling 1,500,010,000 dollars they went to the bank. John deposited his into his checking account, which was a smart idea. Jack wanted to cash the whole thing but the bank wouldn't let him. He basically cleaned out their safe still. They gave him 700,000 and deposited the rest to a joint account he and Sara were forced to open. The rain kept up for a while before the lightning struck. When the lightning struck it hit a power line that connected to Alvin's A+. The side of the building caught on fire a little but no one really noticed it until it was too late. Soon the whole building would be engulfed in flames. The wind kicked up. The clouds accelerated in the sky and started reaching down. They were reaching for the lake and finally they got a hold of the lake and started a water spout. It was the strangest thing that Sara had ever seen, an entire lake in the sky. All of the water had left the crater-of-a man made lake in the ground.
John in his inebriated state ran took the large suitcase, full of crispy Benjamin Franklins and ran outside to put it in the car. Jack ran after him trying to get him back inside. That was when the liquor store went up in flames. Have you ever seen a liquor store burn? It isn't slow and steady. Just as the liquor store went up the tornado crept closer to it. The wind shattered the windows and sent Molotov cocktails everywhere. The tornado got a hold of the cars and they went up in the air. John was stunned with fear. Jack couldn't get him to come back inside the bank. And even if John could snap out of it long enough to run back to the bank he wouldn't have been able. The speed of the wind had rendered the both of them immobile. They were clinging to a small tree in the parking lot. John dropped the bag and the wind took it. Somehow the bag came open and money flew everywhere. They couldn't hold on to the tree anymore and got swept up by the wind. John flew up about 400 feet and crashed landed in the crater that used to be Moon Lake. Jack went up about 100 or so feet and slammed down about 20 feet from where he had taken off. The tornado left the ground and the reaching hands of the clouds went back into the sky. Along with the rain and ashes, falling from the sky, was 7,000 hundred-dollar bills. Jacks fortune came true. His large sum of money was raining down on him. Jack and John were dead.
After they got there checks totaling 1,500,010,000 dollars they went to the bank. John deposited his into his checking account, which was a smart idea. Jack wanted to cash the whole thing but the bank wouldn't let him. He basically cleaned out their safe still. They gave him 700,000 and deposited the rest to a joint account he and Sara were forced to open. The rain kept up for a while before the lightning struck. When the lightning struck it hit a power line that connected to Alvin's A+. The side of the building caught on fire a little but no one really noticed it until it was too late. Soon the whole building would be engulfed in flames. The wind kicked up. The clouds accelerated in the sky and started reaching down. They were reaching for the lake and finally they got a hold of the lake and started a water spout. It was the strangest thing that Sara had ever seen, an entire lake in the sky. All of the water had left the crater-of-a man made lake in the ground.
John in his inebriated state ran took the large suitcase, full of crispy Benjamin Franklins and ran outside to put it in the car. Jack ran after him trying to get him back inside. That was when the liquor store went up in flames. Have you ever seen a liquor store burn? It isn't slow and steady. Just as the liquor store went up the tornado crept closer to it. The wind shattered the windows and sent Molotov cocktails everywhere. The tornado got a hold of the cars and they went up in the air. John was stunned with fear. Jack couldn't get him to come back inside the bank. And even if John could snap out of it long enough to run back to the bank he wouldn't have been able. The speed of the wind had rendered the both of them immobile. They were clinging to a small tree in the parking lot. John dropped the bag and the wind took it. Somehow the bag came open and money flew everywhere. They couldn't hold on to the tree anymore and got swept up by the wind. John flew up about 400 feet and crashed landed in the crater that used to be Moon Lake. Jack went up about 100 or so feet and slammed down about 20 feet from where he had taken off. The tornado left the ground and the reaching hands of the clouds went back into the sky. Along with the rain and ashes, falling from the sky, was 7,000 hundred-dollar bills. Jacks fortune came true. His large sum of money was raining down on him. Jack and John were dead.
This is the poem that I was talking about. The one that Sara wrote in her first book. As I have said, this book and her others are great. You should check them out.
"Brothers"
From the book "Brothers" by Sara Lee Whittles
Jack and John
Were near the pond
When they fetched up their all cash
They both flew in
To the whirling wind
Of currency and ash
"Brothers"
From the book "Brothers" by Sara Lee Whittles
Jack and John
Were near the pond
When they fetched up their all cash
They both flew in
To the whirling wind
Of currency and ash
Monday, June 16, 2008
Swizzger: Family of Four... Vol. III
The day that Jack Sr. and John Sr. flew of that coastal cliff in California, was the day Jack bought the car that he and Sara were currently driving to Kansas City to pick up the 1.5 billion dollars. The newly reunited couple were going to cash the entire check, drive to las vegas where they would elope, then they would take a plane to Honolulu, where they would live in peace and happiness for the rest of their lives.
So little did they know that Zeus, son of Cronus and Rhea, had a better idea planned out. He had a plan the whole time. Their whole lives were part of it. Things had so far gone accordingly and would keep going that way forever. Jack and Sara and John and Jack Sr. and John Sr. would play no bigger parts in his play than tiny ants surrounding a sugar cube backstage.
"What were the number's that you chose to win?" Sara asked Jack from the passengers seat.
"2-4-15-16-25-56."
"What made you choose those numbers?"
"Well... you aren't going to believe me, but two weeks ago I was eating Chinee Takee Outee by myself at my house. And you know how there are lucky numbers on the slips that come out of fortune cookies? I used those numbers."
"You were right I don't believe you."
"I still have it. I keep it as a... token of luck."
"Can I see it?"
Jack opened the center console and sure enough, pulled out a small slip of paper with the numbers printed on it in red ink. Above the numbers was an English to Chinese translation of the word 'ice cream'. He handed the slip to Sara.
"Well, I'll be damned, that really was one lucky fortune cookie."
"Yeah... and check out what the fortune says."
She flipped it over and in black ink the fortune cookie slip read this:
"A large sum of cash will soon rain down upon you."
Sara just sat there and stared at it. Again, like when she saw Jack in the grocery store, she didn't know what to think, she just sat there.
"I don't usually play the lotto, but I figured with a fortune like that I would have to win."
Sara stayed silent.
"Sara...?"
"This is some weird ass shit," Sara laughed. They both started laughing hysterically. Sara's cackle was starting to get on Jack's nerves, but he knew that he had learned to live with it before. It was just nice to have her back. Her and her cackle.
Two hours later they were pulling into the parking lot of 'Alvin's A+ Liquor and Fine Wine', two doors down from the lotto office of Kansas City, to buy a celebration bottle of Dom Perignon.
So little did they know that Zeus, son of Cronus and Rhea, had a better idea planned out. He had a plan the whole time. Their whole lives were part of it. Things had so far gone accordingly and would keep going that way forever. Jack and Sara and John and Jack Sr. and John Sr. would play no bigger parts in his play than tiny ants surrounding a sugar cube backstage.
"What were the number's that you chose to win?" Sara asked Jack from the passengers seat.
"2-4-15-16-25-56."
"What made you choose those numbers?"
"Well... you aren't going to believe me, but two weeks ago I was eating Chinee Takee Outee by myself at my house. And you know how there are lucky numbers on the slips that come out of fortune cookies? I used those numbers."
"You were right I don't believe you."
"I still have it. I keep it as a... token of luck."
"Can I see it?"
Jack opened the center console and sure enough, pulled out a small slip of paper with the numbers printed on it in red ink. Above the numbers was an English to Chinese translation of the word 'ice cream'. He handed the slip to Sara.
"Well, I'll be damned, that really was one lucky fortune cookie."
"Yeah... and check out what the fortune says."
She flipped it over and in black ink the fortune cookie slip read this:
"A large sum of cash will soon rain down upon you."
Sara just sat there and stared at it. Again, like when she saw Jack in the grocery store, she didn't know what to think, she just sat there.
"I don't usually play the lotto, but I figured with a fortune like that I would have to win."
Sara stayed silent.
"Sara...?"
"This is some weird ass shit," Sara laughed. They both started laughing hysterically. Sara's cackle was starting to get on Jack's nerves, but he knew that he had learned to live with it before. It was just nice to have her back. Her and her cackle.
Two hours later they were pulling into the parking lot of 'Alvin's A+ Liquor and Fine Wine', two doors down from the lotto office of Kansas City, to buy a celebration bottle of Dom Perignon.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Swizzger: Family of Four... Vols. I & II
Vol. I
So about a year ago, on a day much like today, Jack was walking towards the door. It was his front door, in the front of his house. It was painted red. That was a good thing, because if it wasn't, you wouldn't be able to recognize his house. All of the houses on Jack's street are the same. His is the only one with a red door. The reason he was at the front door was to recieve the morning news paper.
His paper was called the Seaside Press. This is the local paper of the little town of Seaside, Kansas. It is the most typical of suburban towns, and it is about 45 minutes west of Topeka. No one really knows why it is called Seaside, being landlocked so far away from the ocean, and all. Well, atleast Jack didn't know why it was named that, but he didn't care. He never had thought about anything like that before.
The news in the paper wasn't really news to Jack. He was the Chief Editor of the paper. He hated his job. Well actually, he hated his life. Jack Swizzger was a lonely man, 34, never married, didn't have much of a family, and the family he did have never spoke to him. The person he was closest to in his family was his 20 year old brother, John, whom he hadn't talked to in two years.
John, like Jack was a freakin' weird person, if you ask me. He had 24 pet peaves and he knew it, because he counted and kept track of them. One of them was when people said things such as 'LOL' instead of laughing for real and 'TTYL' instead of actually saying, 'I will talk to you later." He considered communication like this Newspeak. Another of John's 24 pet peaves was also shared by Jack and the rest of their family (some things like pet peaves are hereditary, I guess). What they hated more than almost anything was surprises. And boy, were they in for one.
Neither Jack nor John knew that the events of that day would bring them together for the first time in two years.
Vol. II
After Jack had read the paper that wasn't news to him, he made a alphabetized mental list of groceries he needed to buy (eggs, fruit, laundry detergent, milk, and yogurt) and went to the store.
Jack pulled in to the front parking spot in a mostly empty parking lot of the 'Seaside Food Mart'. There were no more than 15 cars in the parking lot. Jack walked into the store.
"Welcome to Seaside Food Mart," a female at a register said.
"Thanks," Jack said without looking at the person. It took a few seconds for the voice that had just talked to Jack to register in his brain as familiar. He looked up at her. It was Sara, his ex-girlfriend. They hadn't spoken in 3 years.
Sara at first didn't know what to think when she noticed who he was. Her heart skipped a beat, her face filled with blood, she got choked up. She stared. Jack smiled for the first time in over a week.
The last thing he smiled and laughed at before that was a political cartoon in the comic section of the paper of the president in a dunce cap. He didn't know why it made him smile and laugh. He wasn't a political person.
She didn't know what to do, but she couldn't help what she did do: she smiled back.
"Jack," Sara said.
"Sara."
"Hi"
"Hello"
"How have you been, Jack"
"I have been okay, I guess..." he paused. "I won the lottery."
"What?!"
"Yeah, I won the lottery and I am going to drive to the lottery office in Kansas City to pick up my check this afternoon."
"Well goddamn Jack. Aren't you excited?"
Jack Shrugged. If there wasn't anything that he truly loved, you could be almost certain it wasn't money. And winning the lottery was quite a surprise. It made him cringe when he found out.
There was a long pause between them. "I still love you", Jack said.
"I don't know what to say", Sara answered.
"Say you will come to Kansas City. We could start again. It would be different this time."
"Okay, I will come."
"Really?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
Jack laughed. Sara laughed. Things were alright.
While this reunion was happening in the food mart, a little over 300 miles away in a small apartment in Bird City, Kansas, was John. He was drinking a beer. That was pretty much the only thing in his fridge. In front of him, on the coffee table, was a remote for the TV, some porno magazines, and an unscratched scratch-off ticket.
Though they had many similarities, John and Jack were completely different people, each one with his own weird traits. John and Jack's strangities were probably a result of their childhood. Make fun of them if you want, but they had two dad's. Yep, Jack and John's parents were gay. They are dead now. Their car was found four years ago smashed to bits and practically flattened from a fall it took off of a cliff near the coast of California. If I wanted to illustrate how odd Jack and John's fathers were all I would have to is this:
Their names were also Jack and John. The Jack and John who were in Seaside and Bird City, the ones that were still alive, were both Juniors.
So about a year ago, on a day much like today, Jack was walking towards the door. It was his front door, in the front of his house. It was painted red. That was a good thing, because if it wasn't, you wouldn't be able to recognize his house. All of the houses on Jack's street are the same. His is the only one with a red door. The reason he was at the front door was to recieve the morning news paper.
His paper was called the Seaside Press. This is the local paper of the little town of Seaside, Kansas. It is the most typical of suburban towns, and it is about 45 minutes west of Topeka. No one really knows why it is called Seaside, being landlocked so far away from the ocean, and all. Well, atleast Jack didn't know why it was named that, but he didn't care. He never had thought about anything like that before.
The news in the paper wasn't really news to Jack. He was the Chief Editor of the paper. He hated his job. Well actually, he hated his life. Jack Swizzger was a lonely man, 34, never married, didn't have much of a family, and the family he did have never spoke to him. The person he was closest to in his family was his 20 year old brother, John, whom he hadn't talked to in two years.
John, like Jack was a freakin' weird person, if you ask me. He had 24 pet peaves and he knew it, because he counted and kept track of them. One of them was when people said things such as 'LOL' instead of laughing for real and 'TTYL' instead of actually saying, 'I will talk to you later." He considered communication like this Newspeak. Another of John's 24 pet peaves was also shared by Jack and the rest of their family (some things like pet peaves are hereditary, I guess). What they hated more than almost anything was surprises. And boy, were they in for one.
Neither Jack nor John knew that the events of that day would bring them together for the first time in two years.
Vol. II
After Jack had read the paper that wasn't news to him, he made a alphabetized mental list of groceries he needed to buy (eggs, fruit, laundry detergent, milk, and yogurt) and went to the store.
Jack pulled in to the front parking spot in a mostly empty parking lot of the 'Seaside Food Mart'. There were no more than 15 cars in the parking lot. Jack walked into the store.
"Welcome to Seaside Food Mart," a female at a register said.
"Thanks," Jack said without looking at the person. It took a few seconds for the voice that had just talked to Jack to register in his brain as familiar. He looked up at her. It was Sara, his ex-girlfriend. They hadn't spoken in 3 years.
Sara at first didn't know what to think when she noticed who he was. Her heart skipped a beat, her face filled with blood, she got choked up. She stared. Jack smiled for the first time in over a week.
The last thing he smiled and laughed at before that was a political cartoon in the comic section of the paper of the president in a dunce cap. He didn't know why it made him smile and laugh. He wasn't a political person.
She didn't know what to do, but she couldn't help what she did do: she smiled back.
"Jack," Sara said.
"Sara."
"Hi"
"Hello"
"How have you been, Jack"
"I have been okay, I guess..." he paused. "I won the lottery."
"What?!"
"Yeah, I won the lottery and I am going to drive to the lottery office in Kansas City to pick up my check this afternoon."
"Well goddamn Jack. Aren't you excited?"
Jack Shrugged. If there wasn't anything that he truly loved, you could be almost certain it wasn't money. And winning the lottery was quite a surprise. It made him cringe when he found out.
There was a long pause between them. "I still love you", Jack said.
"I don't know what to say", Sara answered.
"Say you will come to Kansas City. We could start again. It would be different this time."
"Okay, I will come."
"Really?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
Jack laughed. Sara laughed. Things were alright.
While this reunion was happening in the food mart, a little over 300 miles away in a small apartment in Bird City, Kansas, was John. He was drinking a beer. That was pretty much the only thing in his fridge. In front of him, on the coffee table, was a remote for the TV, some porno magazines, and an unscratched scratch-off ticket.
Though they had many similarities, John and Jack were completely different people, each one with his own weird traits. John and Jack's strangities were probably a result of their childhood. Make fun of them if you want, but they had two dad's. Yep, Jack and John's parents were gay. They are dead now. Their car was found four years ago smashed to bits and practically flattened from a fall it took off of a cliff near the coast of California. If I wanted to illustrate how odd Jack and John's fathers were all I would have to is this:
Their names were also Jack and John. The Jack and John who were in Seaside and Bird City, the ones that were still alive, were both Juniors.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Untitled Serial - Pt. 1
The darkness was dissipating as dawn pushed it back to the farthest corner of the earth. It was the eternal struggle between light and dark on earth. The sun poured itself through the pine forests on the edge of town. The thin needles provided little shade for the animals below. The sun let them know that another night of hunting was over and it was time for them to retire to their forest homes. The heat was beginning to rise; but that is not to say that it was not hot already. Even the nighttime provided little relief in the dead of the Florida summer. The humidity never left the land. Sweaty summer nights were typical for the residents of Hodgetown.
On this particular morning, the mood of the town was especially miserable. The residents rose and dressed in black, filing into their cars and piling into the streets. As cement gave way to cobblestone drives, stone markers in perfect rows and column lined the pristinely-managed grass. Along with the Australian pined paper mulberries, nothing was natural about the cemetery's landscape except the ultimate finality of life.
The funeral was short. It was how Adam Elam would have wanted it. He was a simple man of strong principles. Those who knew him admired his candid nature and honesty. Adam was known as an open book and people usually liked what they read. The closest friends of Adam would note his good listening ability and his reservation to speak without a purpose. Adam always liked to use few words where an average man would use many. Excessiveness was the antonym for Adam Elam.
Adam left behind a wife, Evelyn, and three boys. Evelyn was a mild-mannered woman who dedicated her life to her family. Her three boys, from oldest to youngest, were Seth, Edward, and Tab. Seth and Edward flew in to attend the funeral. They both worked abroad for non-profit organizations. However, Tab was the native son. He never dreamed of leaving home. He considered himself lucky to be born in such a beautiful state.
“Best damn state in the union!” Tab would boost to anyone who would care to listen. While the other sons took after their father, Tab was never one to be reserved. He was brash and careless with his words and deeds. The idea of conservative to Tab was a six pack instead of a twelve. When Tab was in his purest form, he liked to pick fights at the bar or with a police officer. On one occasion, Tab put a brick through a patrol car’s window just to see if the “pig could run like the greased one’s at a redneck carnival.” The wild lifestyle found Tab in jail on multiple occasions. At first, people thought he was just working out his craziness as a teenager. But when he hit twenty-three years and was just as foolhardy as he was at thirteen, people realized he might never buck the trend. According to Tab, “Life was made to be lived without laws.” It was a cliche he spouted while in handcuffs or in arraignment.
But when Tab found out about his father’s death, he reacted different than some might expect. About two years before, his lifelong idol and uncle, Jerry, died after being blindsided with a bottle of cheap whiskey during a fight at Skinny’s Bar. It wasn’t the bottle that did uncle Jerry in; it was the terrazzo floor that caused his head to crack like a coconut on contact. After Tab heard the news about uncle Jerry, he went on a four-day bender that involved half-a-dozen fights, a broken arm from crashing his Lincoln into a head shop, and a tattoo of his uncle’s portrait with the text “Fuckin’ American Hero” underneath it. The mourning finally ended when Tab passed out in the backyard of a local police officer while in search for a swimming pool. Luckily, the cop was an old classmate of Tab’s from grade school; the cop threw Tab in the drunk tank and left him there for two days to be sure of his sobriety. Tab’s father was a different story.
Evelyn Elam showed up at Shady Oaks Trailer Park about half past six to break the news to her youngest son. She was wearing the red and white floral pattern dress that Tab had given her for Christmas when he sixteen. Evelyn stood out on Tab’s beer-stained and cigarette-burned couch. The fact that the couch was in mint condition when Adam gave the couch to Tab when he moved into the trailer was the least of her concern.
“Tab, your daddy died of an aneurysm today.” Evelyn stated plainly. She knew Tab wasn’t one for dancing around the subject. Tab was busy mixing a post-work cocktail when he dropped his glass onto the once-white, now-beige rug.
“What?” Tab stumbled to say as his face expressed the shock of the statement he just heard.
“Your daddy’s gone.”
“An aneurysm?”
She nodded.
He took a seat next to his mother. The whiskey and coke was still soaking into the carpet. It didn’t matter. Not much matter at this point. Just every word that his mother was saying.
“The funeral is going to be Friday at eight. Your brothers are flying in.”
“Good. Dad will be...he would have been happy to see...it is good they are coming.”
“The wake is going to be at our house at eleven. I think your Aunt Mary and Uncle Josh are going to be organizing everything.”
“Good. That is very nice of them.”
The conversation continued much like it was working its way through rush hour traffic. And although the two did not notice, it was the most they had talked in since she and Adam dropped off the couch two years earlier.
On this particular morning, the mood of the town was especially miserable. The residents rose and dressed in black, filing into their cars and piling into the streets. As cement gave way to cobblestone drives, stone markers in perfect rows and column lined the pristinely-managed grass. Along with the Australian pined paper mulberries, nothing was natural about the cemetery's landscape except the ultimate finality of life.
The funeral was short. It was how Adam Elam would have wanted it. He was a simple man of strong principles. Those who knew him admired his candid nature and honesty. Adam was known as an open book and people usually liked what they read. The closest friends of Adam would note his good listening ability and his reservation to speak without a purpose. Adam always liked to use few words where an average man would use many. Excessiveness was the antonym for Adam Elam.
Adam left behind a wife, Evelyn, and three boys. Evelyn was a mild-mannered woman who dedicated her life to her family. Her three boys, from oldest to youngest, were Seth, Edward, and Tab. Seth and Edward flew in to attend the funeral. They both worked abroad for non-profit organizations. However, Tab was the native son. He never dreamed of leaving home. He considered himself lucky to be born in such a beautiful state.
“Best damn state in the union!” Tab would boost to anyone who would care to listen. While the other sons took after their father, Tab was never one to be reserved. He was brash and careless with his words and deeds. The idea of conservative to Tab was a six pack instead of a twelve. When Tab was in his purest form, he liked to pick fights at the bar or with a police officer. On one occasion, Tab put a brick through a patrol car’s window just to see if the “pig could run like the greased one’s at a redneck carnival.” The wild lifestyle found Tab in jail on multiple occasions. At first, people thought he was just working out his craziness as a teenager. But when he hit twenty-three years and was just as foolhardy as he was at thirteen, people realized he might never buck the trend. According to Tab, “Life was made to be lived without laws.” It was a cliche he spouted while in handcuffs or in arraignment.
But when Tab found out about his father’s death, he reacted different than some might expect. About two years before, his lifelong idol and uncle, Jerry, died after being blindsided with a bottle of cheap whiskey during a fight at Skinny’s Bar. It wasn’t the bottle that did uncle Jerry in; it was the terrazzo floor that caused his head to crack like a coconut on contact. After Tab heard the news about uncle Jerry, he went on a four-day bender that involved half-a-dozen fights, a broken arm from crashing his Lincoln into a head shop, and a tattoo of his uncle’s portrait with the text “Fuckin’ American Hero” underneath it. The mourning finally ended when Tab passed out in the backyard of a local police officer while in search for a swimming pool. Luckily, the cop was an old classmate of Tab’s from grade school; the cop threw Tab in the drunk tank and left him there for two days to be sure of his sobriety. Tab’s father was a different story.
Evelyn Elam showed up at Shady Oaks Trailer Park about half past six to break the news to her youngest son. She was wearing the red and white floral pattern dress that Tab had given her for Christmas when he sixteen. Evelyn stood out on Tab’s beer-stained and cigarette-burned couch. The fact that the couch was in mint condition when Adam gave the couch to Tab when he moved into the trailer was the least of her concern.
“Tab, your daddy died of an aneurysm today.” Evelyn stated plainly. She knew Tab wasn’t one for dancing around the subject. Tab was busy mixing a post-work cocktail when he dropped his glass onto the once-white, now-beige rug.
“What?” Tab stumbled to say as his face expressed the shock of the statement he just heard.
“Your daddy’s gone.”
“An aneurysm?”
She nodded.
He took a seat next to his mother. The whiskey and coke was still soaking into the carpet. It didn’t matter. Not much matter at this point. Just every word that his mother was saying.
“The funeral is going to be Friday at eight. Your brothers are flying in.”
“Good. Dad will be...he would have been happy to see...it is good they are coming.”
“The wake is going to be at our house at eleven. I think your Aunt Mary and Uncle Josh are going to be organizing everything.”
“Good. That is very nice of them.”
The conversation continued much like it was working its way through rush hour traffic. And although the two did not notice, it was the most they had talked in since she and Adam dropped off the couch two years earlier.
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