I went to the Bohemian Beer Garden with one of my editors. He likes to drink- he likes to drink in beer gardens, and had never been to Astoria. It was the ideal place to spend one of the last evenings of September. As we approached I whispered to him, “The trick is to casually find a table with good looking girls at it.†But when we walked into the beer garden the place was mostly deserted. It was a weeknight, and also early. We sat at a table by ourselves.
We ate sausage and sauerkraut and drank pints and pints of fine golden Pilsner. People slowly shuffled in. The editor and I talked about Burnt Roof of Mouth, my upcoming novel, which I'm self-editing by posting on NYC Scribbles in serial form. Posting Burnt Roof onto my website helps fight the over familiarity I have with the work.
But I had questions for my editor. I wished there were no dumb questions. I wasn't sure if champagne was capitalized or not. My Strunk and White Elements of Style book didn't help much. See, when I went into the text, and clicked on 'Edit', and then, 'Search' for champagne it appears 77 times. I thought a novel that has the word champagne in it 77 times can't be all that bad. But I had better get it right. My editor, of course, is a language wiz. He said, “If it is the region, it is capitalized, dumb ass, and if it is just the drink, than it isn't.â€
My editor and I decided to have one for the road, even though we were way over our limit. Sometimes ya just gotta love the N train. As we drained the last pint a group of girls sat down. And even though the place had filled up, there were many other places to sit, there were even whole tables free. Were they thinking what I was thinking? Did we share the same strategy? Then I saw her. She was a vision. She was funny, she told stories of going to Paris for two weeks and being so drunk she doesn't remember it. She shared her jacket when I got cold. Of course we stayed. I fell in love with her right there and than. It reminded me a of cartoon I had read in the New Yorker- a dumpy guy is sitting at the bar next to a blonde haired, blue eyed babe and as he slumps over his beer says- “If I'd known I was going to meet you I would have lost weight and made more money.â€
Her name is Brynn and she lives in Brooklyn. Her name would never be plain or ugly, would it? All the beautiful women in New York have J.D. Salinger names. Cheers to literature. And here's to hoping I see her again.
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mccutcheon
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mccutcheon
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Post Script On Love At First Sight
Read the previous post before reading this one.
My editor read my last post and said, “Those girls sat down because they thought we were leaving and the table was free, dumb ass. I had already downed my last drink and was putting on my jacket.â€
Oh. I wished I were in Champagne.
“I just can't make it with the ladies.â€- Charles Bukowski. Cheers to Literature.
Tripped up. I had a soccer game and I was in a very foul mood, and after I was fouled a few times I started yelling at the ref. He came over to caution me about my language. “Oh sorry ref. Sometimes I just get caught up in the passion of it all,†I said. The ref nodded his head and as he turned away I continued, “Just ask your wife.†Red card.
Kettle of Fish. Monday Night Football. NYC Scribbles.
My editor read my last post and said, “Those girls sat down because they thought we were leaving and the table was free, dumb ass. I had already downed my last drink and was putting on my jacket.â€
Oh. I wished I were in Champagne.
“I just can't make it with the ladies.â€- Charles Bukowski. Cheers to Literature.
Tripped up. I had a soccer game and I was in a very foul mood, and after I was fouled a few times I started yelling at the ref. He came over to caution me about my language. “Oh sorry ref. Sometimes I just get caught up in the passion of it all,†I said. The ref nodded his head and as he turned away I continued, “Just ask your wife.†Red card.
Kettle of Fish. Monday Night Football. NYC Scribbles.
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mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
- Posts: 4996
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
Burnt Novel Serial Shit #12
I leave Rachael's house and I walk around the neighborhood. Kids are playing in the snow. I think about the job. I find myself walking past Janis' house. I don't stop. I want this to be a surprise.
I keep walking until I'm at Dick's. My shift starts in twenty minutes. I enter through the back door.
“Oh, it's you,†Ricardo Junior says standing in the back, talking on the phone.
“Yeah.â€
“Go make some boxes, we need a lot more boxes.â€
“My shift hasn't started yet.â€
I walk to the front. Ricardo is making some new pies. He gives me two slices of cheese. I never tire of his pizza. It is the best pie around.
“How is it my boy? You study hard?â€
“Yes, you could say I've been getting an education.â€
I sit and eat the slices and drink a coke. At some point in my life this has become my staple diet. If Mike is right, and I think he is, that life is too short to drink bad beer, than life must also be too short to only live on pizza and soda. I should try to eat a more nutritious meal. But pizza and coke sure tastes good. The great American combo.
After dinner I make pizza boxes in the backroom. Ricardo Junior sticks his head in and sneers. I turn my back and ignore him. I can feel him staring. I turn around.
“What?â€
“We'll need you to do a double tonight.â€
“Why?â€
“Alex quit.â€
“Great. Can you blame him? His first night and he ends up in the hospital.â€
“He should have been more careful.â€
“It's your fault, asshole.â€
“Who are you calling an asshole?â€
“I'm calling you an asshole.â€
“You calling me an asshole?â€
“Yeah, I'm calling you an asshole.â€
“Stop playing around boys,†Ricardo enters the backroom. “We already have orders coming in. Ricardo Junior go to the front.â€
Ricardo Junior snarls and scurries to the front to take pizzas out of the oven.
“Hey, Ricardo, I know you are short losing Alex, but I'm going to have to take some days off next week.
“I just gave you days off for your studies.â€
“I know. But listen, I got a new job lined up and might be going out of the country.â€
“You going to deliver pizza in Canada?â€
“No.â€
“What is this new job?â€
“I'm going to be working for a woman from Manhattan.â€
“Doing what?â€
“I think I'm going to go to Paris and shop for cheese.â€
“Ah, Paris! What a glorious city. What an opportunity this is for you Trevor. You have always wanted to go to Europe.â€
“I know.â€
“But why does this lady want you to buy cheese? Can't she get cheese in New York?â€
“She wants me to get special cheese, the kind that isn't pasteurized, the smelliest and moldiest cheese.â€
“Oh, I see, what for?â€
“For her parties.â€
“Ah, parties,†Ricardo says fondly.
Ricardo looks at me with weird fatherly affection. He is sizing up the situation. Even though his food preparations mostly deal with pizza, he doesn't skimp in quality. Like all good chefs, many different types of food intrigue him. Ingredients are important aspects of his life.
“Hey asshole,†Ricardo Junior yells from the front. “We got you a delivery.â€
“I wish you boys wouldn't fight so,†sighs Ricardo. He puts a hand on my shoulder. I grab a pizza box and take it up front. Ricardo Junior slides the pie into the box and hands me the ticket.
“This better not have a fucking coupon.â€
“Fuck you.â€
31!
I'm back in the truck, doing my thing. The hours fly by. The truck slides and glides over the slushy roads. I'm in and out of houses fast. I'll need some spending money in Paris.
I'm doing about seven deliveries an hour, working a double, doubling up on orders. This deserves a double shot of Jack at the Blue Rose. After the last order, when I return to Dicks, Ricardo Junior is waiting in the parking lot.
“What? I'm done.â€
“One more delivery.â€
Ricardo Junior hands me the slip. It's Janis's house.
I check on her pizza and log out. Ricardo Junior rushes toward me.
“How many coupons you have tonight?â€
“Fuck off.â€
I walk to the front where Ricardo is now finishing the dishes.
“Hey Ricardo, I only got one more delivery. Can I keep the truck again?â€
“Sure my boy, you worked very hard tonight. Would you like a quick glass of wine before you leave?â€
“Of course.â€
Ricardo dries his hands. He motions for me to sit with him. He doesn't invite his son to join us. Ricardo makes a show of popping the cock on a bottle. He pours some red wine. I take a healthy sip. The wine is rich and sits on my tongue. There are different levels to the taste. It takes a moment before my mouth becomes fully aware of the flavor.
“This is very nice wine,†I say.
“Yes, it is it's a Bordeaux.â€
“Nice.â€
“Bordeaux famously goes very well with many French cheeses. You should have some Bordeaux when you get to France. I think I have a book with French wine and cheese comparisons, would you be interested in that my boy?â€
“Yeah, that would be great Ricardo. You know, I thought you might be a little pissed about me leaving.â€
“What, because you can't stay a pizza delivery boy your whole life? You might be our best employee Trevor, but I like a boy who tries to do more in life. It is time to become a man.â€
“I really appreciate it.â€
Ricardo goes to the kitchen and retrieves the book. It's a little book that can fit in my pocket. I thumb through it. It has wine and food comparisons and accompaniments. Ricardo sits down and finishes his glass of wine with me. We drink in silence, savoring the wine. Down the hall Ricardo Junior is scowling. I finish my glass.
“Thank you, for the wine and book,†I say.
No problem, my boy.â€
I grab the pizza from the kitchen oven. I nod to Ricardo Junior on my way out.
32!
Driving to Janis's house I smoke a cigarette. The moonlight glows on the barren trees. I stop the truck along the curb. I pull the large steaming cheese pie out of the back oven. I walk up to her rundown little house. I look at the mailbox. I wonder if she has received any letters regarding her screenplay. I knock.
Janis opens the door immediately. She stands with her hands on her hips. She is wearing a mini skirt and moon boots.
“So?â€
“So what?†I ask.
“Where do we stand?â€
“Well, I'm standing here holding this pizza and you are standing in the doorway.â€
I smile at my joke.
“Don't be trite when it comes to affairs of the heart. Why'd you cancel on me the other night?â€
“Had to hang with Mike.â€
“I said don't be trite.â€
“I wasn't tired.â€
“Not tired, trite.â€
“Oh.â€
“Come in, Trevor.â€
I follow Janis to the kitchen. She puts the pizza in the refrigerator. Down the hall, the television is playing. Janis turns to me.
“So?â€
“Yeah.â€
“So now where do we stand?â€
“What do you mean?â€
“You know I like you and I know I hurt you. Can we get over that? I mean we are starting to get to know each other. Don't you want to find out if we can make it work for a while?â€
“I think so.â€
“Listen, why don't we try to live moment to moment, get the lust while the lust is good?â€
“That sounds good to me.â€
Janis rushes to me and wraps her arms around my neck. She presses her lips to mine. I get emotional tingles of excitement through my body. Getting the lust while the lust is good is going to be fun. I have a lot of lust to give.
We will live moment to moment. Relationships are fragile these days. I don't know anyone in a good one. I can't control who she is going to sleep with or what gender she will fuck. I don't understand the rules of attraction. All I can do is be there, the best I can, fair and honest. Being fair and honest sometimes means keeping hurtful things to myself.
“You want to go to the Blue Rose?†she asks.
“I would love to.â€
“How's your mom?†I ask.
“Keeping to herself. Let's go.â€
We drive to the Blue Rose together. In the cab of the truck Janis presses her body close. I have trouble shifting the gears. I pull into the Blue Rose and park. As we get out Janis grabs my arm.
“You know I want the lust, but I'm also falling in love with you Trevor.â€
“You are?â€
“Yes, I am.â€
“That's good,†I say.
The noise from the Blue Rose can be heard from the parking lot. The boisterous commotion is reassuring. I enjoy the sound of people having fun, forgetting the troubles for a few hours. Janis and I walk through the crowd. Mike is sitting at the bar drinking a bottled of Pilsner.
“There's Mike,†Janis says.
We sit next to Mike.
“What's up guys?†Mike asks.
“Not much.†I say. “I'm gonna play the jukebox. Get me a double shot of Jack. What do you want Janis?â€
“I'll have the same,†Janis says.
I put some of my newly earned cash on the bar. Mike orders from Purdy.
“Hey,†Mike says.
“Yeah?â€
“Will you play some Dylan?â€
“Sure.â€
“Play 'Idiot Wind.'â€
“Ok.â€
Tommy and Timmy are standing over the jukebox. As I approach I reach into my front pocket to separate some single dollars from the wad of bills.
“Trevor, you playing pocket pool?â€
“Funny, excuse me gents.â€
Tommy sees my earnings.
“Trevor, you want to score some more speed?†He asks.
“Yeah?†Asks Timmy
“No thanks.â€
I press the selections. Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Iggy Pop and Tom Waits. I choose 'Chelsea Hotel', 'Lust for Life' and 'Innocent When You Dream (barroom version)'.
“They have some great music here,†I say.
“Except for your shit,†says Tommy. “This is a jukebox. Not a junk box.â€
“Yeah,†says Timmy.
“This is Dylan. This is genius.â€
“This is hippie shit,†Tommy says.
“Yeah,†agrees Timmy.
I sit back down with Janis and Mike. Tommy and Timmy follow me. They leer at Janis. Purdy walks out of the back kitchen. He carries over a plate of Buffalo Wings.
“You want some Wings?†He asks.
“Food is cheating,†says Tommy.
“Yeah,†says Timmy.
“What do you mean?†I ask.
“When drinking, food just gets in the way,†explains Tommy.
“Yeah,†adds Timmy.
“I'll take the wings,†I tell Purdy.
Purdy puts the plate on the bar. Tommy and Timmy devour the wings before anyone else gets a chance to eat one. After stuffing their faces they retreat back to the jukebox.
Mike drinks his beer. Janis and I sip our Jack. When Leonard Cohen comes on Janis sings along.
'She gave me head on the unmade bed.'
I'm turned on. Mike isn't sharing my good feelings. He is looking at his beer. It must be Bonnie again.
“What's up man?â€
“Nothing.â€
“Is it Bonnie?â€
“I don't want to talk about it.â€
Janis must notice the tension. It would be hard not to.
“You want me to leave for a bit?†Janis asks. “You guys want to have a private conversation?â€
“No.†Mike says. “I just can't figure out how I can love someone I don't even like. It plays on my mind. I mean fuck, I've had better kisses, blow jobs, and even meaningful conversations with other girls.â€
“You have meaningful conversations with girls?†asks Janis laughing.
“Hell yes.â€
“Whatever,†I say laughing as well.
Mike looks at us. It is silly. He chuckles despite himself. Mike puts out his hand with thumb up. We lock our fists together in solidarity. It is the way it should be, Mike and I together against the world. We order more drinks. Janis puts her arm around me and kisses my neck.
“Why don't you guys get a room,†Mike says.
“I just like kissing when I feel like kissing,†says Janis.
“Yeah,†Mike says. “Okay but…oh fuck.â€
Mike's face distorts. His eyes mist over. I turn my head to follow his gaze. Bonnie is in the corner with Ricardo Junior and they are in a heavy bout of public affection. Rico Suave has his hand down the front of Bonnie's shirt, groping her big tits.
Mike stands up from his barstool to get a better look. Janis grabs his hand to try to make him sit back down. He jerks his hand away.
“Come on Mike, let's leave,†I say.
“Fuck that.â€
Mike flips over the barstool and grabs it by the legs. As he rushes through the crowd he has the stool over his head. Ricardo Junior looks up from Bonnie's tits just as the stool comes crashing down on his skull. It's lights out for the fucker. I smirk, but then I realize the severity of the situation.
“Get Mike out of here,†I tell Janis.
“Where should I take him?â€
“I don't know. Your house.â€
“Okay. What are you going to do?â€
“Take the fucker to the hospital.â€
Janis leads Mike away by the arm. Mike doesn't put up much resistance. He keeps looking straight at Bonnie, who is cowering over Ricardo Junior's prone body. I bend down to look at the damage done.
“He isn't conscious?†I ask.
“How the hell should I know?†Bonnie says.
“Well, check.â€
Bonnie takes her finger and pokes Ricardo Junior in the eye as she tries to lift his eyelid. Ricardo Junior's pupil has rolled back in his head. He is still out cold.
“Help me pick him up,†I say.
“Why?â€
“Because we are going to the hospital.â€
“We?â€
“Yeah, you and me and Ricardo Junior.â€
“I don't want to go.â€
“You are going.â€
“Why do I have to fucking go? I don't even like this guy.â€
“You don't even like him!â€
“No.â€
“You caused this.â€
“We were just fooling around.â€
“Why do you have to come here and do it in front of Mike?â€
“Mike's a big boy. He should be able to take care of himself. Besides he ain't a saint. I know he fucks that model pussy over in the city.â€
A slight moan escapes Ricardo Junior.
“C'mon. Let's get him up.â€
I grab Ricardo Junior. Bonnie grabs his left hand and holds it, leaving me to support all of Ricardo Junior's weight. I stumble with Ricardo Junior over my shoulder. I take him out of the bar. The cab of the pick up is too small for the three of us. It doesn't help that Ricardo Junior is slumped in a heap. Bonnie sits in the passenger seat and lights a cigarette.
“We'll have to put him in the back.â€
“He'll freeze.â€
“No, it's a short ride. I know how to get there quick."
I keep walking until I'm at Dick's. My shift starts in twenty minutes. I enter through the back door.
“Oh, it's you,†Ricardo Junior says standing in the back, talking on the phone.
“Yeah.â€
“Go make some boxes, we need a lot more boxes.â€
“My shift hasn't started yet.â€
I walk to the front. Ricardo is making some new pies. He gives me two slices of cheese. I never tire of his pizza. It is the best pie around.
“How is it my boy? You study hard?â€
“Yes, you could say I've been getting an education.â€
I sit and eat the slices and drink a coke. At some point in my life this has become my staple diet. If Mike is right, and I think he is, that life is too short to drink bad beer, than life must also be too short to only live on pizza and soda. I should try to eat a more nutritious meal. But pizza and coke sure tastes good. The great American combo.
After dinner I make pizza boxes in the backroom. Ricardo Junior sticks his head in and sneers. I turn my back and ignore him. I can feel him staring. I turn around.
“What?â€
“We'll need you to do a double tonight.â€
“Why?â€
“Alex quit.â€
“Great. Can you blame him? His first night and he ends up in the hospital.â€
“He should have been more careful.â€
“It's your fault, asshole.â€
“Who are you calling an asshole?â€
“I'm calling you an asshole.â€
“You calling me an asshole?â€
“Yeah, I'm calling you an asshole.â€
“Stop playing around boys,†Ricardo enters the backroom. “We already have orders coming in. Ricardo Junior go to the front.â€
Ricardo Junior snarls and scurries to the front to take pizzas out of the oven.
“Hey, Ricardo, I know you are short losing Alex, but I'm going to have to take some days off next week.
“I just gave you days off for your studies.â€
“I know. But listen, I got a new job lined up and might be going out of the country.â€
“You going to deliver pizza in Canada?â€
“No.â€
“What is this new job?â€
“I'm going to be working for a woman from Manhattan.â€
“Doing what?â€
“I think I'm going to go to Paris and shop for cheese.â€
“Ah, Paris! What a glorious city. What an opportunity this is for you Trevor. You have always wanted to go to Europe.â€
“I know.â€
“But why does this lady want you to buy cheese? Can't she get cheese in New York?â€
“She wants me to get special cheese, the kind that isn't pasteurized, the smelliest and moldiest cheese.â€
“Oh, I see, what for?â€
“For her parties.â€
“Ah, parties,†Ricardo says fondly.
Ricardo looks at me with weird fatherly affection. He is sizing up the situation. Even though his food preparations mostly deal with pizza, he doesn't skimp in quality. Like all good chefs, many different types of food intrigue him. Ingredients are important aspects of his life.
“Hey asshole,†Ricardo Junior yells from the front. “We got you a delivery.â€
“I wish you boys wouldn't fight so,†sighs Ricardo. He puts a hand on my shoulder. I grab a pizza box and take it up front. Ricardo Junior slides the pie into the box and hands me the ticket.
“This better not have a fucking coupon.â€
“Fuck you.â€
31!
I'm back in the truck, doing my thing. The hours fly by. The truck slides and glides over the slushy roads. I'm in and out of houses fast. I'll need some spending money in Paris.
I'm doing about seven deliveries an hour, working a double, doubling up on orders. This deserves a double shot of Jack at the Blue Rose. After the last order, when I return to Dicks, Ricardo Junior is waiting in the parking lot.
“What? I'm done.â€
“One more delivery.â€
Ricardo Junior hands me the slip. It's Janis's house.
I check on her pizza and log out. Ricardo Junior rushes toward me.
“How many coupons you have tonight?â€
“Fuck off.â€
I walk to the front where Ricardo is now finishing the dishes.
“Hey Ricardo, I only got one more delivery. Can I keep the truck again?â€
“Sure my boy, you worked very hard tonight. Would you like a quick glass of wine before you leave?â€
“Of course.â€
Ricardo dries his hands. He motions for me to sit with him. He doesn't invite his son to join us. Ricardo makes a show of popping the cock on a bottle. He pours some red wine. I take a healthy sip. The wine is rich and sits on my tongue. There are different levels to the taste. It takes a moment before my mouth becomes fully aware of the flavor.
“This is very nice wine,†I say.
“Yes, it is it's a Bordeaux.â€
“Nice.â€
“Bordeaux famously goes very well with many French cheeses. You should have some Bordeaux when you get to France. I think I have a book with French wine and cheese comparisons, would you be interested in that my boy?â€
“Yeah, that would be great Ricardo. You know, I thought you might be a little pissed about me leaving.â€
“What, because you can't stay a pizza delivery boy your whole life? You might be our best employee Trevor, but I like a boy who tries to do more in life. It is time to become a man.â€
“I really appreciate it.â€
Ricardo goes to the kitchen and retrieves the book. It's a little book that can fit in my pocket. I thumb through it. It has wine and food comparisons and accompaniments. Ricardo sits down and finishes his glass of wine with me. We drink in silence, savoring the wine. Down the hall Ricardo Junior is scowling. I finish my glass.
“Thank you, for the wine and book,†I say.
No problem, my boy.â€
I grab the pizza from the kitchen oven. I nod to Ricardo Junior on my way out.
32!
Driving to Janis's house I smoke a cigarette. The moonlight glows on the barren trees. I stop the truck along the curb. I pull the large steaming cheese pie out of the back oven. I walk up to her rundown little house. I look at the mailbox. I wonder if she has received any letters regarding her screenplay. I knock.
Janis opens the door immediately. She stands with her hands on her hips. She is wearing a mini skirt and moon boots.
“So?â€
“So what?†I ask.
“Where do we stand?â€
“Well, I'm standing here holding this pizza and you are standing in the doorway.â€
I smile at my joke.
“Don't be trite when it comes to affairs of the heart. Why'd you cancel on me the other night?â€
“Had to hang with Mike.â€
“I said don't be trite.â€
“I wasn't tired.â€
“Not tired, trite.â€
“Oh.â€
“Come in, Trevor.â€
I follow Janis to the kitchen. She puts the pizza in the refrigerator. Down the hall, the television is playing. Janis turns to me.
“So?â€
“Yeah.â€
“So now where do we stand?â€
“What do you mean?â€
“You know I like you and I know I hurt you. Can we get over that? I mean we are starting to get to know each other. Don't you want to find out if we can make it work for a while?â€
“I think so.â€
“Listen, why don't we try to live moment to moment, get the lust while the lust is good?â€
“That sounds good to me.â€
Janis rushes to me and wraps her arms around my neck. She presses her lips to mine. I get emotional tingles of excitement through my body. Getting the lust while the lust is good is going to be fun. I have a lot of lust to give.
We will live moment to moment. Relationships are fragile these days. I don't know anyone in a good one. I can't control who she is going to sleep with or what gender she will fuck. I don't understand the rules of attraction. All I can do is be there, the best I can, fair and honest. Being fair and honest sometimes means keeping hurtful things to myself.
“You want to go to the Blue Rose?†she asks.
“I would love to.â€
“How's your mom?†I ask.
“Keeping to herself. Let's go.â€
We drive to the Blue Rose together. In the cab of the truck Janis presses her body close. I have trouble shifting the gears. I pull into the Blue Rose and park. As we get out Janis grabs my arm.
“You know I want the lust, but I'm also falling in love with you Trevor.â€
“You are?â€
“Yes, I am.â€
“That's good,†I say.
The noise from the Blue Rose can be heard from the parking lot. The boisterous commotion is reassuring. I enjoy the sound of people having fun, forgetting the troubles for a few hours. Janis and I walk through the crowd. Mike is sitting at the bar drinking a bottled of Pilsner.
“There's Mike,†Janis says.
We sit next to Mike.
“What's up guys?†Mike asks.
“Not much.†I say. “I'm gonna play the jukebox. Get me a double shot of Jack. What do you want Janis?â€
“I'll have the same,†Janis says.
I put some of my newly earned cash on the bar. Mike orders from Purdy.
“Hey,†Mike says.
“Yeah?â€
“Will you play some Dylan?â€
“Sure.â€
“Play 'Idiot Wind.'â€
“Ok.â€
Tommy and Timmy are standing over the jukebox. As I approach I reach into my front pocket to separate some single dollars from the wad of bills.
“Trevor, you playing pocket pool?â€
“Funny, excuse me gents.â€
Tommy sees my earnings.
“Trevor, you want to score some more speed?†He asks.
“Yeah?†Asks Timmy
“No thanks.â€
I press the selections. Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Iggy Pop and Tom Waits. I choose 'Chelsea Hotel', 'Lust for Life' and 'Innocent When You Dream (barroom version)'.
“They have some great music here,†I say.
“Except for your shit,†says Tommy. “This is a jukebox. Not a junk box.â€
“Yeah,†says Timmy.
“This is Dylan. This is genius.â€
“This is hippie shit,†Tommy says.
“Yeah,†agrees Timmy.
I sit back down with Janis and Mike. Tommy and Timmy follow me. They leer at Janis. Purdy walks out of the back kitchen. He carries over a plate of Buffalo Wings.
“You want some Wings?†He asks.
“Food is cheating,†says Tommy.
“Yeah,†says Timmy.
“What do you mean?†I ask.
“When drinking, food just gets in the way,†explains Tommy.
“Yeah,†adds Timmy.
“I'll take the wings,†I tell Purdy.
Purdy puts the plate on the bar. Tommy and Timmy devour the wings before anyone else gets a chance to eat one. After stuffing their faces they retreat back to the jukebox.
Mike drinks his beer. Janis and I sip our Jack. When Leonard Cohen comes on Janis sings along.
'She gave me head on the unmade bed.'
I'm turned on. Mike isn't sharing my good feelings. He is looking at his beer. It must be Bonnie again.
“What's up man?â€
“Nothing.â€
“Is it Bonnie?â€
“I don't want to talk about it.â€
Janis must notice the tension. It would be hard not to.
“You want me to leave for a bit?†Janis asks. “You guys want to have a private conversation?â€
“No.†Mike says. “I just can't figure out how I can love someone I don't even like. It plays on my mind. I mean fuck, I've had better kisses, blow jobs, and even meaningful conversations with other girls.â€
“You have meaningful conversations with girls?†asks Janis laughing.
“Hell yes.â€
“Whatever,†I say laughing as well.
Mike looks at us. It is silly. He chuckles despite himself. Mike puts out his hand with thumb up. We lock our fists together in solidarity. It is the way it should be, Mike and I together against the world. We order more drinks. Janis puts her arm around me and kisses my neck.
“Why don't you guys get a room,†Mike says.
“I just like kissing when I feel like kissing,†says Janis.
“Yeah,†Mike says. “Okay but…oh fuck.â€
Mike's face distorts. His eyes mist over. I turn my head to follow his gaze. Bonnie is in the corner with Ricardo Junior and they are in a heavy bout of public affection. Rico Suave has his hand down the front of Bonnie's shirt, groping her big tits.
Mike stands up from his barstool to get a better look. Janis grabs his hand to try to make him sit back down. He jerks his hand away.
“Come on Mike, let's leave,†I say.
“Fuck that.â€
Mike flips over the barstool and grabs it by the legs. As he rushes through the crowd he has the stool over his head. Ricardo Junior looks up from Bonnie's tits just as the stool comes crashing down on his skull. It's lights out for the fucker. I smirk, but then I realize the severity of the situation.
“Get Mike out of here,†I tell Janis.
“Where should I take him?â€
“I don't know. Your house.â€
“Okay. What are you going to do?â€
“Take the fucker to the hospital.â€
Janis leads Mike away by the arm. Mike doesn't put up much resistance. He keeps looking straight at Bonnie, who is cowering over Ricardo Junior's prone body. I bend down to look at the damage done.
“He isn't conscious?†I ask.
“How the hell should I know?†Bonnie says.
“Well, check.â€
Bonnie takes her finger and pokes Ricardo Junior in the eye as she tries to lift his eyelid. Ricardo Junior's pupil has rolled back in his head. He is still out cold.
“Help me pick him up,†I say.
“Why?â€
“Because we are going to the hospital.â€
“We?â€
“Yeah, you and me and Ricardo Junior.â€
“I don't want to go.â€
“You are going.â€
“Why do I have to fucking go? I don't even like this guy.â€
“You don't even like him!â€
“No.â€
“You caused this.â€
“We were just fooling around.â€
“Why do you have to come here and do it in front of Mike?â€
“Mike's a big boy. He should be able to take care of himself. Besides he ain't a saint. I know he fucks that model pussy over in the city.â€
A slight moan escapes Ricardo Junior.
“C'mon. Let's get him up.â€
I grab Ricardo Junior. Bonnie grabs his left hand and holds it, leaving me to support all of Ricardo Junior's weight. I stumble with Ricardo Junior over my shoulder. I take him out of the bar. The cab of the pick up is too small for the three of us. It doesn't help that Ricardo Junior is slumped in a heap. Bonnie sits in the passenger seat and lights a cigarette.
“We'll have to put him in the back.â€
“He'll freeze.â€
“No, it's a short ride. I know how to get there quick."
-
mccutcheon
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who says poetry is shite for arse holes?
LONDON - British entertainment company 57 Productions launched a new Web site Tuesday which allows users to download and listen to poetry on their MP3 players and iPods.
The modern poetry site, called iPoems, will be available to the public on Wednesday, 57 Productions spokesman Philip Abraham said.
About 1,000 readings from poetry written in English are available for 95 cents for each audio poem and $1.80 for a video poem. The company offers a free one-month trial membership. After that, subscriptions are $18 a year.
One featured artist is Jean “Binta†Breeze who performs a Caribbean version of Geoffrey Chaucer's “Wife of Bath†tale.
At a London theater, artists, promoters and guests planned to celebrate the launch Tuesday evening, sipping champagne and listening to poets perform.
The modern poetry site, called iPoems, will be available to the public on Wednesday, 57 Productions spokesman Philip Abraham said.
About 1,000 readings from poetry written in English are available for 95 cents for each audio poem and $1.80 for a video poem. The company offers a free one-month trial membership. After that, subscriptions are $18 a year.
One featured artist is Jean “Binta†Breeze who performs a Caribbean version of Geoffrey Chaucer's “Wife of Bath†tale.
At a London theater, artists, promoters and guests planned to celebrate the launch Tuesday evening, sipping champagne and listening to poets perform.
-
mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
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- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
Burnt Novel Serial Shit #13
Bonnie slams her door on me. I'm left to handle Ricardo Junior alone. I lift him into the back of the pickup and shove him next to the pizza ovens. I run around the truck and sit behind the wheel and look over at Bonnie. She takes a deep suck on her cigarette. She doesn't offer me one. I pull out of the parking lot. Once again I'm speeding to the hospital.
“Why are you so mad at Mike? You guys have known each other like ten years. And now you act like a total bitch.â€
“We used to be in love. But then he became a big shot model and would go into the city all the time.â€
“It was for work. He made great money, money he would spend on you.â€
“I know he was fucking those cover girl bitches.â€
Bonnie is tough. But she is also jealous. I wonder if this is the reason Mike quit modeling in the first place.
“You know, Bonnie, Mike loves you. He doesn't cheat.â€
“Like the fuck he doesn't. I caught him. Once a cheater, always a cheater.â€
“No, he doesn't cheat. I would know. He thinks those models are all boring.â€
“It wasn't a fucking model I caught him with.â€
“Than who?â€
“Like you don't fucking know.â€
“I don't?â€
“Really? Well, that's a laugh.â€
“Why?â€
“He cheated on me with that girl you guys were with tonight. After it happened I heard she moved to L.A. or something.â€
My stomach drops.
“What girl?â€
“You know that one who was in the bar, she was there tonight. Mike left with her."
"Who?"
"Jesus, I keep telling you. That girl tonight. I guess she came back to be with him again. That's why I let that spic get so fresh.â€
“You mean Janis? Janis was with me.â€
“That fuckin' whore fucks the both of you? I always knew there was some fucked up faggoty shit about you two living together.â€
I almost drive off the road, sending us into a snow bank.
“Watch out Trevor!†Bonnie screams. “You drive like a fucking wild man.â€
“I don't think that is true,†I say as evenly as I can.
“Why the hell not, they probably screwed behind my back until the time she high tailed it to California.â€
“No, that can't be true.â€
“Yes it is. Mike said it only happened once. He said he was attracted to her talent. You know how Mike talks. He never makes sense. All utter bullshit. Mike told me he thought she would be a great fucking movie director. Like girls make movies. But I guess that is why she went to L.A.â€
I pull the truck over to the side of the road. My body is shaking. I steady my hands by gripping the steering wheel in a white knuckled embrace. FUCK!
I turn to Bonnie to look directly at her face. She could be lying.
“Bonnie,†I say deliberately. “Are you fucking sure that Mike and Janis slept together?â€
“Yeah, why do you care?â€
Bonnie must see my reaction. Her hard demeanor becomes slightly startled. Bonnie isn't very bright, but she does have experiences dealing with the opposite sex. Bonnie correctly assesses the situation.
“That bitch was with you tonight, wasn't she?â€
I don't answer. My grip on the steering wheel grows tighter.
“And you like that girl, and you didn't know, did you Trevor?â€
I don't answer.
“Some best friend that Mike is. Like you guys are brothers. Ha! â€
“Just shut the fuck up.†I spit in rage.
“You just shut the fuck up. Trevor you are such a fucking little boy.â€
I get a flash of intense, insane anger, the kind of pain that causes crimes of passion. I want to take my hands off the steering wheel and slap Bonnie right across her smug face. I want to lash out at the hurt and confusion built up inside of me. I want to kill for all the hate in this world.
Bonnie puts her face close to mine and her eyes burn with disgusted disbelief.
“Why don't you either fucking hit me or fucking fuck me right here?â€
“What?â€
“You heard me. Hit me or fuck me little boy.â€
I grab Bonnie's hair and pull her head to my crotch. I'm going to make her suck my cock. I'm gonna shove my cock so far down her throat that she chokes to death. But I'm not hard. And I'm not a rapist. I let her head go. After all the things that have happened and we still fight the domestic battle of the sexes.
Bonnie smiles sickly at me, at the fact that her provocation caused me to lose control. We are at an impasse. It is broken by a thud behind our heads.
“What the fuck is going on?†Ricardo Junior yells from the back of the truck. He pounds on the frosted window divide of the cab. “I'm fucking freezing!â€
“Hold on!†I yell. “We are taking you to the hospital.â€
“Why?†Asks Ricardo Junior. Then he passes back out.
“Come on,†I say putting the truck back into gear.
34!
I pull into the hospital parking lot and park next to Bill, the ex-librarian, who is crouching at his post, reading a book. He holds the slender hard cover through thick mittens. He looks up and frowns when he recognizes the truck. Bill stands up. I jump from the cab as soon as I put it in park. Bonnie takes her time climbing out.
“What mess have you gotten yourself into now?â€
“Bar fight, just a different bar.â€
“You live a rough life.â€
“I know. Can you help me get him out of the back?â€
“Sure.â€
Bill and I lift Ricardo Junior's slumped listless body from the back of the pickup.
“Who is the young lady,†Bills whispers into my ear.
“That's Bonnie.â€
“Devilishly cute.â€
“More like Satan bitch.â€
“That's not a very good way to talk about a young lady.â€
“She is the cause of this fight.â€
“Trevor, throughout history, many a beautiful young woman has been the center of controversy in men's affairs. It's up to men to lose their brutish behavior and be more enlightened.â€
“Whatever. She is still a bitch. She has totally fucked up everything.â€
But is this all Bonnie's fault?
“Why are you so mad at Mike? You guys have known each other like ten years. And now you act like a total bitch.â€
“We used to be in love. But then he became a big shot model and would go into the city all the time.â€
“It was for work. He made great money, money he would spend on you.â€
“I know he was fucking those cover girl bitches.â€
Bonnie is tough. But she is also jealous. I wonder if this is the reason Mike quit modeling in the first place.
“You know, Bonnie, Mike loves you. He doesn't cheat.â€
“Like the fuck he doesn't. I caught him. Once a cheater, always a cheater.â€
“No, he doesn't cheat. I would know. He thinks those models are all boring.â€
“It wasn't a fucking model I caught him with.â€
“Than who?â€
“Like you don't fucking know.â€
“I don't?â€
“Really? Well, that's a laugh.â€
“Why?â€
“He cheated on me with that girl you guys were with tonight. After it happened I heard she moved to L.A. or something.â€
My stomach drops.
“What girl?â€
“You know that one who was in the bar, she was there tonight. Mike left with her."
"Who?"
"Jesus, I keep telling you. That girl tonight. I guess she came back to be with him again. That's why I let that spic get so fresh.â€
“You mean Janis? Janis was with me.â€
“That fuckin' whore fucks the both of you? I always knew there was some fucked up faggoty shit about you two living together.â€
I almost drive off the road, sending us into a snow bank.
“Watch out Trevor!†Bonnie screams. “You drive like a fucking wild man.â€
“I don't think that is true,†I say as evenly as I can.
“Why the hell not, they probably screwed behind my back until the time she high tailed it to California.â€
“No, that can't be true.â€
“Yes it is. Mike said it only happened once. He said he was attracted to her talent. You know how Mike talks. He never makes sense. All utter bullshit. Mike told me he thought she would be a great fucking movie director. Like girls make movies. But I guess that is why she went to L.A.â€
I pull the truck over to the side of the road. My body is shaking. I steady my hands by gripping the steering wheel in a white knuckled embrace. FUCK!
I turn to Bonnie to look directly at her face. She could be lying.
“Bonnie,†I say deliberately. “Are you fucking sure that Mike and Janis slept together?â€
“Yeah, why do you care?â€
Bonnie must see my reaction. Her hard demeanor becomes slightly startled. Bonnie isn't very bright, but she does have experiences dealing with the opposite sex. Bonnie correctly assesses the situation.
“That bitch was with you tonight, wasn't she?â€
I don't answer. My grip on the steering wheel grows tighter.
“And you like that girl, and you didn't know, did you Trevor?â€
I don't answer.
“Some best friend that Mike is. Like you guys are brothers. Ha! â€
“Just shut the fuck up.†I spit in rage.
“You just shut the fuck up. Trevor you are such a fucking little boy.â€
I get a flash of intense, insane anger, the kind of pain that causes crimes of passion. I want to take my hands off the steering wheel and slap Bonnie right across her smug face. I want to lash out at the hurt and confusion built up inside of me. I want to kill for all the hate in this world.
Bonnie puts her face close to mine and her eyes burn with disgusted disbelief.
“Why don't you either fucking hit me or fucking fuck me right here?â€
“What?â€
“You heard me. Hit me or fuck me little boy.â€
I grab Bonnie's hair and pull her head to my crotch. I'm going to make her suck my cock. I'm gonna shove my cock so far down her throat that she chokes to death. But I'm not hard. And I'm not a rapist. I let her head go. After all the things that have happened and we still fight the domestic battle of the sexes.
Bonnie smiles sickly at me, at the fact that her provocation caused me to lose control. We are at an impasse. It is broken by a thud behind our heads.
“What the fuck is going on?†Ricardo Junior yells from the back of the truck. He pounds on the frosted window divide of the cab. “I'm fucking freezing!â€
“Hold on!†I yell. “We are taking you to the hospital.â€
“Why?†Asks Ricardo Junior. Then he passes back out.
“Come on,†I say putting the truck back into gear.
34!
I pull into the hospital parking lot and park next to Bill, the ex-librarian, who is crouching at his post, reading a book. He holds the slender hard cover through thick mittens. He looks up and frowns when he recognizes the truck. Bill stands up. I jump from the cab as soon as I put it in park. Bonnie takes her time climbing out.
“What mess have you gotten yourself into now?â€
“Bar fight, just a different bar.â€
“You live a rough life.â€
“I know. Can you help me get him out of the back?â€
“Sure.â€
Bill and I lift Ricardo Junior's slumped listless body from the back of the pickup.
“Who is the young lady,†Bills whispers into my ear.
“That's Bonnie.â€
“Devilishly cute.â€
“More like Satan bitch.â€
“That's not a very good way to talk about a young lady.â€
“She is the cause of this fight.â€
“Trevor, throughout history, many a beautiful young woman has been the center of controversy in men's affairs. It's up to men to lose their brutish behavior and be more enlightened.â€
“Whatever. She is still a bitch. She has totally fucked up everything.â€
But is this all Bonnie's fault?
-
mccutcheon
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I want to thank Primal Scream for making sure that Sex, Drugs and Rock -n- Roll never goes out of style.
I like the new Killers, even if they do look like the Eagles.
Thanks to the Black Mountaintops. Thanks to the Pink Mountaintops.
Thanks Mav. Thanks to a female DJ from L.A. who shared my bed last night.
Sweet rock and roll. Those were the good times. Last night.
I like the new Killers, even if they do look like the Eagles.
Thanks to the Black Mountaintops. Thanks to the Pink Mountaintops.
Thanks Mav. Thanks to a female DJ from L.A. who shared my bed last night.
Sweet rock and roll. Those were the good times. Last night.
-
mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
- Posts: 4996
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
Burnt Novel Serial Shit # 14
We carry Ricardo Junior's limp body through the emergency doors. He remains unconscious. We lose our grip and dump him onto a chair. It is eerily quiet. The kinetic lights give off a ghostly abandoned spaceship vibe.
The admitting nurse behind the desk looks up at us through thick black-rimmed glasses when she hears the commotion. She is the only person besides us in the lobby. It's the same homely woman that was here when I brought Alex in. I can't remember the last time I saw a pretty nurse at this hospital.
“What is this?†the nurse asks.
“I don't think it's anything too serious. Maybe a slight concussion.â€
“And who is in charge of the body?â€
“No one. I mean not me.â€
“Someone has to sign the boy in. There is always paper work, you know.â€
Of course there is paperwork. I'm looking through the pages, wondering if I sign on the dotted line I could be implicated in some way, when a male nurse enters. He is wearing the standard aqua hospital uniform. He has a round face, two chins and blond highlights on the tips of his gelled hair. He stops in front of Ricardo Junior and me. Then he turns to the nurse with a shrug. He points a manicured plump finger.
“What's this Birdie?†He asks.
“Another bar fight, Bernie.â€
“These kids. You would think they would get their act together. I don't understand why they always have to fight.â€
“Boys will be boys,†says Birdie.
“I don't think showing off how macho you are by getting knocked out is any healthy way to be a boy,†says Bernie. He looks at me like this is my fault. “What's up with you kids?â€
“I didn't do it,†I protest. “I'm the one trying to help. I brought him here.â€
“So what happened? What is the story?â€
“I don't know. It was over a girl.â€
“Oh a lover's quarrel,†says Birdie.
“And what happened,†asks Bernie. He takes out a small flashlight from his front pocket and inspects Ricardo Junior's eyes. With his left hand he caresses Ricardo Junior's face with more than professional medical attention. The prodding awakens the slumbering Ricardo Junior.
“What the fuck!â€
Ricardo Junior grabs Bernie around the neck, scrunching up his aqua scrubs. Ricardo Junior lashes out and punches Bernie in the face. Bernie recoils in panic-stricken horror and obvious pain. His nose trickles blood. An obvious stranger to physical violence he starts weeping. Ricardo Junior moves with more dexterity than anyone who was just unconscious should be able to muster. He pounds a few more swift jabs into Bernie's soft midsection. In self-defense Bernie bundles up on the floor in the fetal position. He shields his face from another attack.
“Oh my God!†Yells Birdie. “Go get the security guard.â€
“Keep that fuckin' faggot away from me!†Ricardo Junior looks around grimacing. He stands up over the fallen Bernie.
“Please don't hurt me, oh please don't hurt me,†cries Bernie.
“Chill the fuck out asshole,†I say taking control of the situation. “Don't worry. No one is hurting anyone else. Stop your crying.â€
I step between Bernie and Ricardo Junior.
“It's over.â€
Bernie uncovers his eyes. He wants to make sure I have it under control.
“Go wait outside,†I say to Ricardo Junior.
“Okay.â€
Ricardo Junior walks outside stretching his arms and massaging the side of his head where Mike clocked him. I lean over and help Bernie to his feet.
“Well, I'm just going to have to file an Assault and Battery report,†says Bernie. He walks over to the front desk and picks up the phone. “I'm going to call 9-1-1.â€
“Don't do that.â€
“And just tell me why I shouldn't. We don't live in a lawless society.â€
“Trust me, it's not worth it.â€
“And why isn't it worth it. If I don't document it, it's like it never happened at all. And if it does happen again, and I don't trust you it won't, then I will have nothing but my word.â€
“You don't want to be a tattle-tale.â€
“Oh yes I do want to be a tattletale,†Bernie lisps.
“No you don't,†I say taking the phone from his hand and replacing it on the receiver.
“Come on man, be cool.â€
“And why on earth should I be cool, as you say. My safety is in jeopardy.â€
“No, it's not.â€
“Um,†retorts Birdie possibly realizing the growing anxiety between Bernie and me. “You still never signed that thug in.â€
“For God's sake Birdie, he is gone,†states Bernie. “There is no longer a need to check him in. He isn't going to receive medical attention from me.†He turns to me. “I don't want to ever see either of you here again.â€
“Sure,†I say and walk out the emergency exit.
35!
“Fucking bitch!†Screams Ricardo Junior. “You set me up!â€
Outside Bill is holding off another Ricardo Junior attack. He is in front of Ricardo Junior, and has one protective arm wrapped around Bonnie.
“Now let's calm down here,†says Bill. “I'm sure this little lady didn't mean any harm.â€
“That ain't no lady,†shouts Ricardo Junior.
I have to agree with Ricardo Junior for the first time in my life. I like Bill, though, and I don't want him to get hurt. Besides, if Bernie catches wind of this he will surely call the cops.
I walk over to the group with my hands in the air as a protest against any more aggression. Bill turns to me. Ricardo Junior lunges at Bonnie.
“Hey!†I yell.
Bill attacks with agility and quickness. He moves Bonnie out of the way, and sticks his foot out. Ricardo Junior hits the pavement hard. He bends over Ricardo Junior and pats him down. He isn't rough, only controlling the situation. Ricardo Junior doesn't appreciate Bill taking the upper hand.
“That bitch set me up,†protests Ricardo Junior.
“No, I didn't,†shrieks Bonnie.
“Yes you did, making me go with you to that townie bar every night knowing that asshole would be there.â€
“It's where I like to drink.â€
“Of course it is, you are New Jersey trash just like everyone else in this town.â€
Bill allows Ricardo Junior to get to his feet.
“Now let's just everyone settle down,†says Bill.
“I think we should leave,†I say glancing back at the emergency entrance. I know that if Bernie catches us loitering he will call the law.
“I think that is a reasonable suggestion,†agrees Bill. “This is a public space, not the place for private disputes.â€
“I'm not getting in the truck with him,†spits Bonnie, pointing at Ricardo Junior.
“Trevor, why don't you take the boy home? I'll make sure the young lady is safe.â€
“Are you sure?â€
“Yes.â€
Ricardo Junior and I both look at Bonnie. She is a girl of strong freewill. In all the aggravating years that I've known her, any form of sincere thoughtfulness directed at her has always been spun and adverted in the most unpleasant manner. Bonnie is going to tell Bill to fuck off. But she doesn't. With downcast innocent eyes she acquiesces.
“Sure,†says Bonnie. “That will be fine.â€
Before anything else can be said I grab Ricardo Junior by the arm. I lead him into the cab of the truck. I run around to the other side of the cab and climb in. I put the key in the ignition and step on the gas pedal. Pulling out of the vast, mostly empty hospital parking lot two police cars pass.
“So where do you want to go?†I ask.
“Take me to work.â€
“Are you sure? It's closed by now.â€
“Trevor, just do as I say. I'm still your fucking boss.â€
“Whatever you say, boss.â€
“Damn right, motherfucker.â€
We ride in silence. When I drive into Dick's Ricardo Junior jumps out of the truck before I even come to a full stop. He slams the door and doesn't even argue with me about leaving the company truck here overnight. I don't give him time to change his mind. I start to drive over to Janis's house. Then I remember. I don't want to go to that house. Mike is there with her.
36!
At home white lilies are sitting on the porch. I pick them up. They are very fragrant despite being left out in the cold. I have never received flowers before. There is a note from Janis. It says, “Just because I love you.â€
Grandpa is already asleep. I open a bottle of cheap red wine and go down to my room. I grab a few albums and plug in my headphones. I listen to the Rolling Stones' 'Stupid Girl' and Dr. Dre's 'Bitches Ain't Shit' over and over again as I slowly sip the wine. When the bottle is almost empty my anger turns to melancholy. I play Tom Waits' 'Jersey Girl.' I clutch the lilies to my chest and have a long self-pitying cry. Finally I sleep. But I don't remember my dreams.
The admitting nurse behind the desk looks up at us through thick black-rimmed glasses when she hears the commotion. She is the only person besides us in the lobby. It's the same homely woman that was here when I brought Alex in. I can't remember the last time I saw a pretty nurse at this hospital.
“What is this?†the nurse asks.
“I don't think it's anything too serious. Maybe a slight concussion.â€
“And who is in charge of the body?â€
“No one. I mean not me.â€
“Someone has to sign the boy in. There is always paper work, you know.â€
Of course there is paperwork. I'm looking through the pages, wondering if I sign on the dotted line I could be implicated in some way, when a male nurse enters. He is wearing the standard aqua hospital uniform. He has a round face, two chins and blond highlights on the tips of his gelled hair. He stops in front of Ricardo Junior and me. Then he turns to the nurse with a shrug. He points a manicured plump finger.
“What's this Birdie?†He asks.
“Another bar fight, Bernie.â€
“These kids. You would think they would get their act together. I don't understand why they always have to fight.â€
“Boys will be boys,†says Birdie.
“I don't think showing off how macho you are by getting knocked out is any healthy way to be a boy,†says Bernie. He looks at me like this is my fault. “What's up with you kids?â€
“I didn't do it,†I protest. “I'm the one trying to help. I brought him here.â€
“So what happened? What is the story?â€
“I don't know. It was over a girl.â€
“Oh a lover's quarrel,†says Birdie.
“And what happened,†asks Bernie. He takes out a small flashlight from his front pocket and inspects Ricardo Junior's eyes. With his left hand he caresses Ricardo Junior's face with more than professional medical attention. The prodding awakens the slumbering Ricardo Junior.
“What the fuck!â€
Ricardo Junior grabs Bernie around the neck, scrunching up his aqua scrubs. Ricardo Junior lashes out and punches Bernie in the face. Bernie recoils in panic-stricken horror and obvious pain. His nose trickles blood. An obvious stranger to physical violence he starts weeping. Ricardo Junior moves with more dexterity than anyone who was just unconscious should be able to muster. He pounds a few more swift jabs into Bernie's soft midsection. In self-defense Bernie bundles up on the floor in the fetal position. He shields his face from another attack.
“Oh my God!†Yells Birdie. “Go get the security guard.â€
“Keep that fuckin' faggot away from me!†Ricardo Junior looks around grimacing. He stands up over the fallen Bernie.
“Please don't hurt me, oh please don't hurt me,†cries Bernie.
“Chill the fuck out asshole,†I say taking control of the situation. “Don't worry. No one is hurting anyone else. Stop your crying.â€
I step between Bernie and Ricardo Junior.
“It's over.â€
Bernie uncovers his eyes. He wants to make sure I have it under control.
“Go wait outside,†I say to Ricardo Junior.
“Okay.â€
Ricardo Junior walks outside stretching his arms and massaging the side of his head where Mike clocked him. I lean over and help Bernie to his feet.
“Well, I'm just going to have to file an Assault and Battery report,†says Bernie. He walks over to the front desk and picks up the phone. “I'm going to call 9-1-1.â€
“Don't do that.â€
“And just tell me why I shouldn't. We don't live in a lawless society.â€
“Trust me, it's not worth it.â€
“And why isn't it worth it. If I don't document it, it's like it never happened at all. And if it does happen again, and I don't trust you it won't, then I will have nothing but my word.â€
“You don't want to be a tattle-tale.â€
“Oh yes I do want to be a tattletale,†Bernie lisps.
“No you don't,†I say taking the phone from his hand and replacing it on the receiver.
“Come on man, be cool.â€
“And why on earth should I be cool, as you say. My safety is in jeopardy.â€
“No, it's not.â€
“Um,†retorts Birdie possibly realizing the growing anxiety between Bernie and me. “You still never signed that thug in.â€
“For God's sake Birdie, he is gone,†states Bernie. “There is no longer a need to check him in. He isn't going to receive medical attention from me.†He turns to me. “I don't want to ever see either of you here again.â€
“Sure,†I say and walk out the emergency exit.
35!
“Fucking bitch!†Screams Ricardo Junior. “You set me up!â€
Outside Bill is holding off another Ricardo Junior attack. He is in front of Ricardo Junior, and has one protective arm wrapped around Bonnie.
“Now let's calm down here,†says Bill. “I'm sure this little lady didn't mean any harm.â€
“That ain't no lady,†shouts Ricardo Junior.
I have to agree with Ricardo Junior for the first time in my life. I like Bill, though, and I don't want him to get hurt. Besides, if Bernie catches wind of this he will surely call the cops.
I walk over to the group with my hands in the air as a protest against any more aggression. Bill turns to me. Ricardo Junior lunges at Bonnie.
“Hey!†I yell.
Bill attacks with agility and quickness. He moves Bonnie out of the way, and sticks his foot out. Ricardo Junior hits the pavement hard. He bends over Ricardo Junior and pats him down. He isn't rough, only controlling the situation. Ricardo Junior doesn't appreciate Bill taking the upper hand.
“That bitch set me up,†protests Ricardo Junior.
“No, I didn't,†shrieks Bonnie.
“Yes you did, making me go with you to that townie bar every night knowing that asshole would be there.â€
“It's where I like to drink.â€
“Of course it is, you are New Jersey trash just like everyone else in this town.â€
Bill allows Ricardo Junior to get to his feet.
“Now let's just everyone settle down,†says Bill.
“I think we should leave,†I say glancing back at the emergency entrance. I know that if Bernie catches us loitering he will call the law.
“I think that is a reasonable suggestion,†agrees Bill. “This is a public space, not the place for private disputes.â€
“I'm not getting in the truck with him,†spits Bonnie, pointing at Ricardo Junior.
“Trevor, why don't you take the boy home? I'll make sure the young lady is safe.â€
“Are you sure?â€
“Yes.â€
Ricardo Junior and I both look at Bonnie. She is a girl of strong freewill. In all the aggravating years that I've known her, any form of sincere thoughtfulness directed at her has always been spun and adverted in the most unpleasant manner. Bonnie is going to tell Bill to fuck off. But she doesn't. With downcast innocent eyes she acquiesces.
“Sure,†says Bonnie. “That will be fine.â€
Before anything else can be said I grab Ricardo Junior by the arm. I lead him into the cab of the truck. I run around to the other side of the cab and climb in. I put the key in the ignition and step on the gas pedal. Pulling out of the vast, mostly empty hospital parking lot two police cars pass.
“So where do you want to go?†I ask.
“Take me to work.â€
“Are you sure? It's closed by now.â€
“Trevor, just do as I say. I'm still your fucking boss.â€
“Whatever you say, boss.â€
“Damn right, motherfucker.â€
We ride in silence. When I drive into Dick's Ricardo Junior jumps out of the truck before I even come to a full stop. He slams the door and doesn't even argue with me about leaving the company truck here overnight. I don't give him time to change his mind. I start to drive over to Janis's house. Then I remember. I don't want to go to that house. Mike is there with her.
36!
At home white lilies are sitting on the porch. I pick them up. They are very fragrant despite being left out in the cold. I have never received flowers before. There is a note from Janis. It says, “Just because I love you.â€
Grandpa is already asleep. I open a bottle of cheap red wine and go down to my room. I grab a few albums and plug in my headphones. I listen to the Rolling Stones' 'Stupid Girl' and Dr. Dre's 'Bitches Ain't Shit' over and over again as I slowly sip the wine. When the bottle is almost empty my anger turns to melancholy. I play Tom Waits' 'Jersey Girl.' I clutch the lilies to my chest and have a long self-pitying cry. Finally I sleep. But I don't remember my dreams.
-
mccutcheon
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Today Is Beautiful.
Today is beautiful. I celebrate today. It doesn't matter the last post on the Novel sucks. (I have to stop ending sentences in propositions. Or do I?) It doesn't matter that I feel flabby and have flatulence. It doesn't matter the Pack game yesterday left Nate, Ang, Shelly Pack, Brody and I hitting the floor. It doesn't matter because today is beautiful.
What are you doing today?
NYC
Heat Index: 77°F
Humidity: 52%
Dew Point: 55°F
So Far Today
High: 74°F
Low: 57°F
Rain: 0.00″
Rain Rate: 0.00″/h
Gust: 9mph WNW
What are you doing today?
NYC
Heat Index: 77°F
Humidity: 52%
Dew Point: 55°F
So Far Today
High: 74°F
Low: 57°F
Rain: 0.00″
Rain Rate: 0.00″/h
Gust: 9mph WNW
-
mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
- Posts: 4996
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
Trying to make sense of strange days.
Today I was gonna write that ever since I signed up for a subscription to the New Yorker, I've been getting an absurd amount of junk mail, mostly advertising more periodicals, but also cultural shit like invitations to join museums and sometimes worthy causes to help people. It pissed me off that the New Yorker sold my info. Bastards. It makes reading yet another boring story by John Updike or Joyce Carroll Oats almost unbearable. The New Yorker and I disagree on relevant 'fiction'.
Today I was gonna write that I received a letter from unicef that had an actual nickel taped inside of it. The letter proclaimed that 'This nickel could save a child's life.' Even though I'm somewhat of a bleedin' heart, I ain't no Upper East Side MoMa champagne socialist (even though I'd like to be). I'm still a starvin' artist that has never been published in the New Yorker. And still, still, even though I'm a starving artist I couldn't help think, “Why the fuck send this nickel to me?†Unicef should have surely sent it to save a kid's life. I can never support an organization with such fucked up priorities. The gimmick of the nickel would work better on people with money.
Today I was gonna write about junk mail. Then an aircraft crashed into a building on the Upper East Side, where the MoMa champagne socialists live, and the same block where my friend lives. A place I have slept on numerous occasions. Last year when I came back from China she very graciously let me crash for a week. –She has a great bed, even better when she is in it with me. Anyway, this seems to be exactly what everybody thought happened when they first heard of 9/11- just a small plane that crashed by some terrible accident. But you don't forget that first jolt when you hear the news.
I texted my friend, and she is safe. Which is lucky for me because the last time I saw her we had a fight. (She is still pissed off I wrote the story ATM/WTC.)
I'm keeping the nickel, but signed up for unicef by using a credit card….
Oh shit. There was a New York Yankee pitcher on board the plane. How long will it take before people in bars start telling jokes in very poor taste about the Yankees needing pitching?
By COLLEEN LONG
NEW YORK (AP) - A small plane with New York Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle aboard crashed into a 50-story condominium tower Wednesday on Manhattan's Upper East Side, killing at least four people and raining flaming debris on sidewalks, authorities said.
Today I was gonna write that I received a letter from unicef that had an actual nickel taped inside of it. The letter proclaimed that 'This nickel could save a child's life.' Even though I'm somewhat of a bleedin' heart, I ain't no Upper East Side MoMa champagne socialist (even though I'd like to be). I'm still a starvin' artist that has never been published in the New Yorker. And still, still, even though I'm a starving artist I couldn't help think, “Why the fuck send this nickel to me?†Unicef should have surely sent it to save a kid's life. I can never support an organization with such fucked up priorities. The gimmick of the nickel would work better on people with money.
Today I was gonna write about junk mail. Then an aircraft crashed into a building on the Upper East Side, where the MoMa champagne socialists live, and the same block where my friend lives. A place I have slept on numerous occasions. Last year when I came back from China she very graciously let me crash for a week. –She has a great bed, even better when she is in it with me. Anyway, this seems to be exactly what everybody thought happened when they first heard of 9/11- just a small plane that crashed by some terrible accident. But you don't forget that first jolt when you hear the news.
I texted my friend, and she is safe. Which is lucky for me because the last time I saw her we had a fight. (She is still pissed off I wrote the story ATM/WTC.)
I'm keeping the nickel, but signed up for unicef by using a credit card….
Oh shit. There was a New York Yankee pitcher on board the plane. How long will it take before people in bars start telling jokes in very poor taste about the Yankees needing pitching?
By COLLEEN LONG
NEW YORK (AP) - A small plane with New York Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle aboard crashed into a 50-story condominium tower Wednesday on Manhattan's Upper East Side, killing at least four people and raining flaming debris on sidewalks, authorities said.
-
mccutcheon
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Sex, Drugs & Klosterman
I really like Chuck Klosterman. He is my second favorite New York based writer. And he has just released his latest book Chuck Klosterman IV. (It's his fourth. Duh. And he really likes Led Zeppelin. Double Duh.) The book, which was all previously published, consists of three parts:
1. Things That Are True. (Mostly interviews and assignments for Spin.)
2. Things That Might Be True. (Mostly philosophical tidbits and anecdotes for Esquire.)
3. Something That Isn't True At All. (Mostly fiction, at least I presume more than 85%.)
The first section is the best, but the book deteriorates after that. By the time Something That Isn't True At All comes around, which is a novella he is (working on?) it is evident that Chuck suffers from the same problems as my favorite New York based writer Jonathan Ames. And that problem is a failure to realize their best writing. Both guys are great, witty writers. But they are not very good at making up stories and shit. They are not great, witty authors. Jonathan Ames has also recently released a book of previously published essays I Love You More Than You Know.
Sidebar: I'm not sure why either guy failed to dub these books that are full of content that has already been published Greatest Hits. Because Greatest Hits really sell in America. I know one kid who has 5 Doors Greatest Hits albums plus the box set, but not one original album by the Doors. Why this phenomenon is, I don't know. But I bet Klosterman does.
Ames is a wonderful entertaining entertainer, and his oral discussions on his own written words always comes off as more believable and realized than the pages in his books. He can talk the talk. And if he sometimes fails to write the write, it doesn't matter because Ames is still a real funny fucker.
Klosterman is a gifted and natural journalist who has his 'own voice' in the confines of periodical structure. That should be enough. But he badly wants to do fiction. There is a sentence in Something That Isn't True At All that sums this up perfectly. Chuck writes, 'It is at this very moment- shuddering in the front seat of my car, surrounded by corn stalks and the dulcet voice of Matthew Sweet- that it occurs to me that I was born to be a journalist.' And that's the rub. Even Klosterman's best fiction is non-fiction. That sentence is completely true.
I think I know why my two favorite New York based writers venture out and go beyond what they are best at. And if I'm right, I can't blame them. Everyone wants to be a novelist. Someone once told me that NYCScribbles was, to her, like a drunker Klosterman meets a sexier Ames. I took it as a complement.
Ah hell, I want to be a novelist, too.
1. Things That Are True. (Mostly interviews and assignments for Spin.)
2. Things That Might Be True. (Mostly philosophical tidbits and anecdotes for Esquire.)
3. Something That Isn't True At All. (Mostly fiction, at least I presume more than 85%.)
The first section is the best, but the book deteriorates after that. By the time Something That Isn't True At All comes around, which is a novella he is (working on?) it is evident that Chuck suffers from the same problems as my favorite New York based writer Jonathan Ames. And that problem is a failure to realize their best writing. Both guys are great, witty writers. But they are not very good at making up stories and shit. They are not great, witty authors. Jonathan Ames has also recently released a book of previously published essays I Love You More Than You Know.
Sidebar: I'm not sure why either guy failed to dub these books that are full of content that has already been published Greatest Hits. Because Greatest Hits really sell in America. I know one kid who has 5 Doors Greatest Hits albums plus the box set, but not one original album by the Doors. Why this phenomenon is, I don't know. But I bet Klosterman does.
Ames is a wonderful entertaining entertainer, and his oral discussions on his own written words always comes off as more believable and realized than the pages in his books. He can talk the talk. And if he sometimes fails to write the write, it doesn't matter because Ames is still a real funny fucker.
Klosterman is a gifted and natural journalist who has his 'own voice' in the confines of periodical structure. That should be enough. But he badly wants to do fiction. There is a sentence in Something That Isn't True At All that sums this up perfectly. Chuck writes, 'It is at this very moment- shuddering in the front seat of my car, surrounded by corn stalks and the dulcet voice of Matthew Sweet- that it occurs to me that I was born to be a journalist.' And that's the rub. Even Klosterman's best fiction is non-fiction. That sentence is completely true.
I think I know why my two favorite New York based writers venture out and go beyond what they are best at. And if I'm right, I can't blame them. Everyone wants to be a novelist. Someone once told me that NYCScribbles was, to her, like a drunker Klosterman meets a sexier Ames. I took it as a complement.
Ah hell, I want to be a novelist, too.
-
mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
- Posts: 4996
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
Burnt Novel Serial Shit #15
It was a bad, restless sleep. I was just below consciousness the whole time and was not aware of Mike's presence. This means Mike never came home.
I carry the lilies and empty wine bottle upstairs. I fill the wine bottle with water and use it as a vase. The flowers are still very fragrant. Grandpa is sitting on the couch looking out at the graveyard. I place the bottle on the window ledge.
“What's this?†Grandpa asks.
“I thought we could use a little life in this room.â€
“A little life is all that there is in this room. We could always use a little more. They sure smell good. Where did you get 'em?â€
“Janis gave them to me.â€
“That girl?â€
“Yeah.â€
“She sure must have her panties in a bunch over you.â€
“Yeah, yeah.†I walk back into the kitchen and have a glass of orange juice and prepare grandpa's oatmeal.
I hear a loud bang from the living room. Grandpa must have fallen to the floor. Sometimes he has trouble keeping balanced. I rush to help him. But it was the front door slamming shut. Grandpa is fine on the couch. Through the bay window I see Mike's back departing through the cemetery. I wonder where he was and where he is going. Does Mike know I know?
Then I remember my hate. The deep burning pain, and I think Mike better not turn this around, making him the victim. That would be just like Mike. I am the one who has the right to be mad.
“Where did Mike go?â€
“I don't know. Said he had to go into the city.â€
“Where was he?â€
“He slept on the floor in my room. The kid sure likes his floors.â€
“He didn't even have a glass of orange juice.â€
“Are you boys fighting?â€
“No, not yet.â€
“Good. Is my oatmeal ready? I need my strength if I'm going to take on those wild philistines down at the grocery store today. Can you put some raisins into it? I'll need the extra sugar.â€
“You promised to behave.â€
“I'll behave all right. I'm going to teach those old crows what it is like be real live ladies again. The chicken breasts will start beating. The fish fillets will soon be dripping with butter.â€
“Take it easy, and that is disgusting. No raisins for you.â€
“Trevor, when you are my age you don't have the privilege of taking it easy. The mind is willing and I have to take advantage while the body is still able.â€
“Okay, but I don't want to have to pick you up from the police station. I have a busy day.â€
Grandpa turns from the window and looks at me.
“What are you going to do?â€
“I'm going for a new job, with that lady in the city.â€
“I see.â€
“What do you mean?â€
“I'm not sure you appreciate time, my boy. Most young people don't.â€
“I try very hard.â€
“I didn't say that.†He moves over on the couch and makes a place for me to sit next to him.
I sit down and Grandpa puts a reassuring arm around my shoulder. I'm a little uncomfortable about his touch. We aren't a physically close family. We don't hug or kiss. I can smell the old man in him, a worn out odor in my nostrils. I turn my head towards the lilies.
“What did you say?†I ask.
“When I was your age I was already married and working ten hours a day.â€
“Yeah, you had to get married because you got Grandma pregnant, and you worked in a factory.â€
“And your point is? I was supporting a family.â€
“Nothing, I just hoped for a better life.â€
“A life more like your parents?â€
“Dad was successful.â€
“He is also dead.â€
“What does that mean?â€
“It means you can only live when you are alive Trevor. Do what you want. I think you use your parents' death as a crutch.â€
“No, I don't. I have plans.†I stand up. I'm a little pissed off that he is telling me I'm not doing anything with my life. I thought he knew I was working hard to further myself. He knows I'm going to school on top of working.
“I hope you do, my boy, I hope you do. I want you to be happy. But you misunderstand. I mean why be miserable trying to change life? You should be happy doing what you do.â€
“You mean I should stay a pizza guy?â€
“I don't see why not?â€
“I want more.â€
“Even if it makes you miserable?â€
“No, I don't know.â€
“Listen, in America you are judged a failure if you aren't financially successful. Who does the judging? Wall Street. The boys I worked with in that factory, these were real men, real American men. They were family men, happy men.â€
“I've heard stories. Like your friend Pat who died last year? What about the domestic violence and alcoholism?â€
“Well, besides all that. Pat liked his drink.â€
“I don't even really care about money. I mean I do. I'd like to have a comfort level and be able to live in the city.â€
“Yes, but the most import thing is if you are happy at work. The money you make is a bonus. I have always wanted you to find yourself. What would happen to you if all of a sudden you got rich?â€
“Nothing, I'd be the same. Life would just be a lot easier.â€
“Money changes a person for the worst.â€
“I think the money can make a job more agreeable. I like delivering pizza, but it doesn't pay nearly enough. I also think you need a job that gives you a bit of clout. When I deliver pizza to the kids I went to school with I feel like such a loser.â€
“Only in his own heart can a man feel like a winner or loser.â€
“I understand. But I want to live in the city. Like my parents did.â€
“The city is trash. These are things you have to think about. The working man has a value and virtue.â€
“Yeah, I guess. You never complain about Mike and his modeling. I would think you would make fun of him.â€
“Mike has a good head on his shoulders.â€
This stings. I'm his true relation. Where is the loyalty? Besides, Mike is a fucking basket case and a cheater and a liar and I'm gonna bash his noggin. Let him try getting' paid to be a pretty boy with a broken nose.
“Whatever,†I say. “I bet the oatmeal is about ready. Nice and mushy.â€
Grandpa turns away from me and stares out the window again, in the direction of the graveyard. I let him go back to his morbid fixation. That graveyard is where my grandma and most of his factory buddies are buried.
I fetch the oatmeal from the kitchen. It is plenty mushy and I add a few raisins and honey.
38!
I take a hot steaming shower. I listen to Ryan Adams as I dress. Back upstairs grandpa has finished his oatmeal. I take the dish and tidy up the kitchen. Then I put on my coat and scarf.
“Where you going?†Grandpa asks.
“Out.â€
“Out where? To the city job?â€
“No, just out.â€
“To find Mike? I don't want you boys to fight.â€
“No.â€
“That girl who got you the flowers?â€
“Maybe.â€
“It is the girl, right?â€
“Maybe.â€
“Well have fun, and think of what I told you.†He turns his attention from me.
I shut the front door leaving him alone in the house.
39!
When I pull up to Janis's house she comes running out. She opens the door and jumps into the cab.
“Hi.†She says all bright and happy. Then she looks at me. “Is something wrong?â€
“You fucked Mike and don't lie about it I know you did Bonnie told me,†I blurt out.
“Well, hello to you too.â€
“What does that mean? You lied to me. Do you deny it?â€
“No.â€
I knew it. I fucking knew it. I mean I knew it and everything but deep inside I must have been still holding out, hoping that bitch Bonnie was lying. I knew it but it is still shocking, it takes my breath away and I feel like I'm going to faint.
“Aw Trevor, I'm sorry, I just didn't want to hurt you and since it happened before I knew you I didn't think you should know. Mike and I both thought you shouldn't know.â€
“Fuck.â€
“We didn't want to hurt you. Sometimes the best truth is a little lie.â€
“What the fuck does that mean? That is the stupidest thing I've ever fucking heard.â€
“If we told you, it would only have been for our benefit.â€
“Stop talking like Mike. Just shut up.â€
She puts her hand on my shoulder. Then she goes in for a hug, wrapping both arms around me. I resist this attempt of physical affection. I pull away.
“You lied!†I shout.
“No, I didn't, not really, or maybe I did.â€
“I think you did, so that means you did.â€
“Okay,†Janis concedes. “Then I did, and I'm sorry.â€
“I hate you.â€
“Really, than where does that leave us?â€
“What do you mean?â€
“I mean if you hate me where does that leave you and me in this relationship?â€
“This relationship? We fucked a couple of times, that's all.â€
“Do you believe that is all it is?â€
“Yes.â€
“Really?â€
“Yes.â€
“Okay, I guess there is nothing more to say. Except I want you to know that I never slept with Mike since we met, and Mike didn't want you to know because he saw how happy you were with me and didn't want to ruin it. Anyway it was such a long time ago.â€
“I fucking hate you. I fucking hate Mike.â€
“No you don't. You love us. You at least love Mike. Don't start living a life where you hate the people you love.â€
Janis opens the door and starts to get out of the truck. I grab her by her sleeve before she can fully exit.
“Wait,†I say desperately.
“What?â€
“Nothing.â€
I let go. Janis turns from me.
“Wait,†I say again.
“No,†says Janis. “Just fuck off little boy. Come back when you can have mature emotions.â€
She calls me 'little boy' the way Bonnie did. And grandpa was saying I wasn't mature in a way. He thinks I don't understand the import things in life. This really pisses me off. Why can't everyone see how hard I try?
“You're telling me to grow up?†I say. “That's a laugh.â€
“Ha, ha.†She snorts.
“What is funny is that all you care about is making films and you couldn't even hack it out in L.A.â€
Janis gives me a look. And I know I've said something I can never take back. Janis hurries back into her house. I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and yet, I hate, I hate. Janis can just waste away like her mom in that shitty little house. I drive away wondering if I will ever see her again.
40!
I drive straight to Rachael's house. She answers the door when I ring the bell. At least I hope it's her.
“Rachael?â€
“Yes,†she says. “Oh, hi Trevor.â€
“Rachael is that really you?â€
“Yes.â€
“Oh good, I thought it might be your sister.â€
“No, no it's me.â€
“I want the job.â€
“Come in.â€
I follow Rachael into her kitchen and we sit down at the table. I notice an eerie calm. The kids aren't around.
“So you want the job, even after what happened?â€
“You heard about that?â€
“Yes.â€
“Well, I don't care. I mean I didn't like it, but I need to leave and that seems like the best way to do it. And I'll be good. I promise to do a good job.â€
“I know you will, Trevor,†Rachael smiles. “I hope you know what you are in for. It might be going to Paris but it won't be that glamorous, and all that flying.â€
“I love flying,†I say even though I have never been on a plane before in my life.
“Okay, let's give Raquel a call.â€
Rachael dials the phone. She asks for Raquel. Then she hands the phone to me. I explain to Raquel that I want the job. She asks again if I have a passport and I tell her I do. She tells me I'll be on a trial run and I will be leaving tomorrow. If it works out for both parties I'll be hired on as a regular.
An e ticket will be waiting for me at JFK. I'll board an Air France plane and will land at Charles de Gaulle airport. From there I'm supposed to take a taxi into Paris. I'm staying at the George V. I ask about money. She says that the concierge of the hotel will have a list of cheese and the money for me. I'm supposed to stay for two days. I return Christmas Eve. Then she hangs up.
“Well?†asks Rachael.
“I'm leaving tomorrow.â€
“That seems sudden.â€
“Yeah, it's for the Christmas party.â€
“Oh yeah, I'll be there. And everything is already taken care of?â€
“I guess so, she said there'd be someone at the hotel I'd get money from, but she didn't say anything about how I was supposed to pay for my taxi before and when I was getting paid or how to do it. There is going to be a cheese list.â€
“It's the concierge, at the hotel front desk. Do you have money for the cab rides?â€
“I don't know?†I don't know how much they cost, and I think about wasting my savings getting wasted.
Rachael reaches into a kitchen cabinet door and pulls out her purse. She counts out five one hundred-dollar bills and lays them on the tabletop.
“I can't take that,†I say without enough real conviction. My voice says one thing but my eyes never look away from the crisp bills. I feel very greedy.
“No, please do.â€
“Okay, but I promise to pay you back.†I say this and I really want to mean it.
“No, it's not a problem.â€
“I will.â€
“Okay.â€
“What if your husband finds out? I don't want to get you into trouble.â€
“Don't worry, Trevor. Take the money,†Rachael says as exasperated as when I reluctantly fucked her up the ass. “He doesn't know about this. Have some fun. You know there will be moments of real frustration and having enough money can help. Also I want you to be careful and I'll see you at the party.â€
Rachael reaches for me. She presses her lips to my forehead.
“Take care of yourself.â€
“I will.â€
(END PART ONE)
I carry the lilies and empty wine bottle upstairs. I fill the wine bottle with water and use it as a vase. The flowers are still very fragrant. Grandpa is sitting on the couch looking out at the graveyard. I place the bottle on the window ledge.
“What's this?†Grandpa asks.
“I thought we could use a little life in this room.â€
“A little life is all that there is in this room. We could always use a little more. They sure smell good. Where did you get 'em?â€
“Janis gave them to me.â€
“That girl?â€
“Yeah.â€
“She sure must have her panties in a bunch over you.â€
“Yeah, yeah.†I walk back into the kitchen and have a glass of orange juice and prepare grandpa's oatmeal.
I hear a loud bang from the living room. Grandpa must have fallen to the floor. Sometimes he has trouble keeping balanced. I rush to help him. But it was the front door slamming shut. Grandpa is fine on the couch. Through the bay window I see Mike's back departing through the cemetery. I wonder where he was and where he is going. Does Mike know I know?
Then I remember my hate. The deep burning pain, and I think Mike better not turn this around, making him the victim. That would be just like Mike. I am the one who has the right to be mad.
“Where did Mike go?â€
“I don't know. Said he had to go into the city.â€
“Where was he?â€
“He slept on the floor in my room. The kid sure likes his floors.â€
“He didn't even have a glass of orange juice.â€
“Are you boys fighting?â€
“No, not yet.â€
“Good. Is my oatmeal ready? I need my strength if I'm going to take on those wild philistines down at the grocery store today. Can you put some raisins into it? I'll need the extra sugar.â€
“You promised to behave.â€
“I'll behave all right. I'm going to teach those old crows what it is like be real live ladies again. The chicken breasts will start beating. The fish fillets will soon be dripping with butter.â€
“Take it easy, and that is disgusting. No raisins for you.â€
“Trevor, when you are my age you don't have the privilege of taking it easy. The mind is willing and I have to take advantage while the body is still able.â€
“Okay, but I don't want to have to pick you up from the police station. I have a busy day.â€
Grandpa turns from the window and looks at me.
“What are you going to do?â€
“I'm going for a new job, with that lady in the city.â€
“I see.â€
“What do you mean?â€
“I'm not sure you appreciate time, my boy. Most young people don't.â€
“I try very hard.â€
“I didn't say that.†He moves over on the couch and makes a place for me to sit next to him.
I sit down and Grandpa puts a reassuring arm around my shoulder. I'm a little uncomfortable about his touch. We aren't a physically close family. We don't hug or kiss. I can smell the old man in him, a worn out odor in my nostrils. I turn my head towards the lilies.
“What did you say?†I ask.
“When I was your age I was already married and working ten hours a day.â€
“Yeah, you had to get married because you got Grandma pregnant, and you worked in a factory.â€
“And your point is? I was supporting a family.â€
“Nothing, I just hoped for a better life.â€
“A life more like your parents?â€
“Dad was successful.â€
“He is also dead.â€
“What does that mean?â€
“It means you can only live when you are alive Trevor. Do what you want. I think you use your parents' death as a crutch.â€
“No, I don't. I have plans.†I stand up. I'm a little pissed off that he is telling me I'm not doing anything with my life. I thought he knew I was working hard to further myself. He knows I'm going to school on top of working.
“I hope you do, my boy, I hope you do. I want you to be happy. But you misunderstand. I mean why be miserable trying to change life? You should be happy doing what you do.â€
“You mean I should stay a pizza guy?â€
“I don't see why not?â€
“I want more.â€
“Even if it makes you miserable?â€
“No, I don't know.â€
“Listen, in America you are judged a failure if you aren't financially successful. Who does the judging? Wall Street. The boys I worked with in that factory, these were real men, real American men. They were family men, happy men.â€
“I've heard stories. Like your friend Pat who died last year? What about the domestic violence and alcoholism?â€
“Well, besides all that. Pat liked his drink.â€
“I don't even really care about money. I mean I do. I'd like to have a comfort level and be able to live in the city.â€
“Yes, but the most import thing is if you are happy at work. The money you make is a bonus. I have always wanted you to find yourself. What would happen to you if all of a sudden you got rich?â€
“Nothing, I'd be the same. Life would just be a lot easier.â€
“Money changes a person for the worst.â€
“I think the money can make a job more agreeable. I like delivering pizza, but it doesn't pay nearly enough. I also think you need a job that gives you a bit of clout. When I deliver pizza to the kids I went to school with I feel like such a loser.â€
“Only in his own heart can a man feel like a winner or loser.â€
“I understand. But I want to live in the city. Like my parents did.â€
“The city is trash. These are things you have to think about. The working man has a value and virtue.â€
“Yeah, I guess. You never complain about Mike and his modeling. I would think you would make fun of him.â€
“Mike has a good head on his shoulders.â€
This stings. I'm his true relation. Where is the loyalty? Besides, Mike is a fucking basket case and a cheater and a liar and I'm gonna bash his noggin. Let him try getting' paid to be a pretty boy with a broken nose.
“Whatever,†I say. “I bet the oatmeal is about ready. Nice and mushy.â€
Grandpa turns away from me and stares out the window again, in the direction of the graveyard. I let him go back to his morbid fixation. That graveyard is where my grandma and most of his factory buddies are buried.
I fetch the oatmeal from the kitchen. It is plenty mushy and I add a few raisins and honey.
38!
I take a hot steaming shower. I listen to Ryan Adams as I dress. Back upstairs grandpa has finished his oatmeal. I take the dish and tidy up the kitchen. Then I put on my coat and scarf.
“Where you going?†Grandpa asks.
“Out.â€
“Out where? To the city job?â€
“No, just out.â€
“To find Mike? I don't want you boys to fight.â€
“No.â€
“That girl who got you the flowers?â€
“Maybe.â€
“It is the girl, right?â€
“Maybe.â€
“Well have fun, and think of what I told you.†He turns his attention from me.
I shut the front door leaving him alone in the house.
39!
When I pull up to Janis's house she comes running out. She opens the door and jumps into the cab.
“Hi.†She says all bright and happy. Then she looks at me. “Is something wrong?â€
“You fucked Mike and don't lie about it I know you did Bonnie told me,†I blurt out.
“Well, hello to you too.â€
“What does that mean? You lied to me. Do you deny it?â€
“No.â€
I knew it. I fucking knew it. I mean I knew it and everything but deep inside I must have been still holding out, hoping that bitch Bonnie was lying. I knew it but it is still shocking, it takes my breath away and I feel like I'm going to faint.
“Aw Trevor, I'm sorry, I just didn't want to hurt you and since it happened before I knew you I didn't think you should know. Mike and I both thought you shouldn't know.â€
“Fuck.â€
“We didn't want to hurt you. Sometimes the best truth is a little lie.â€
“What the fuck does that mean? That is the stupidest thing I've ever fucking heard.â€
“If we told you, it would only have been for our benefit.â€
“Stop talking like Mike. Just shut up.â€
She puts her hand on my shoulder. Then she goes in for a hug, wrapping both arms around me. I resist this attempt of physical affection. I pull away.
“You lied!†I shout.
“No, I didn't, not really, or maybe I did.â€
“I think you did, so that means you did.â€
“Okay,†Janis concedes. “Then I did, and I'm sorry.â€
“I hate you.â€
“Really, than where does that leave us?â€
“What do you mean?â€
“I mean if you hate me where does that leave you and me in this relationship?â€
“This relationship? We fucked a couple of times, that's all.â€
“Do you believe that is all it is?â€
“Yes.â€
“Really?â€
“Yes.â€
“Okay, I guess there is nothing more to say. Except I want you to know that I never slept with Mike since we met, and Mike didn't want you to know because he saw how happy you were with me and didn't want to ruin it. Anyway it was such a long time ago.â€
“I fucking hate you. I fucking hate Mike.â€
“No you don't. You love us. You at least love Mike. Don't start living a life where you hate the people you love.â€
Janis opens the door and starts to get out of the truck. I grab her by her sleeve before she can fully exit.
“Wait,†I say desperately.
“What?â€
“Nothing.â€
I let go. Janis turns from me.
“Wait,†I say again.
“No,†says Janis. “Just fuck off little boy. Come back when you can have mature emotions.â€
She calls me 'little boy' the way Bonnie did. And grandpa was saying I wasn't mature in a way. He thinks I don't understand the import things in life. This really pisses me off. Why can't everyone see how hard I try?
“You're telling me to grow up?†I say. “That's a laugh.â€
“Ha, ha.†She snorts.
“What is funny is that all you care about is making films and you couldn't even hack it out in L.A.â€
Janis gives me a look. And I know I've said something I can never take back. Janis hurries back into her house. I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and yet, I hate, I hate. Janis can just waste away like her mom in that shitty little house. I drive away wondering if I will ever see her again.
40!
I drive straight to Rachael's house. She answers the door when I ring the bell. At least I hope it's her.
“Rachael?â€
“Yes,†she says. “Oh, hi Trevor.â€
“Rachael is that really you?â€
“Yes.â€
“Oh good, I thought it might be your sister.â€
“No, no it's me.â€
“I want the job.â€
“Come in.â€
I follow Rachael into her kitchen and we sit down at the table. I notice an eerie calm. The kids aren't around.
“So you want the job, even after what happened?â€
“You heard about that?â€
“Yes.â€
“Well, I don't care. I mean I didn't like it, but I need to leave and that seems like the best way to do it. And I'll be good. I promise to do a good job.â€
“I know you will, Trevor,†Rachael smiles. “I hope you know what you are in for. It might be going to Paris but it won't be that glamorous, and all that flying.â€
“I love flying,†I say even though I have never been on a plane before in my life.
“Okay, let's give Raquel a call.â€
Rachael dials the phone. She asks for Raquel. Then she hands the phone to me. I explain to Raquel that I want the job. She asks again if I have a passport and I tell her I do. She tells me I'll be on a trial run and I will be leaving tomorrow. If it works out for both parties I'll be hired on as a regular.
An e ticket will be waiting for me at JFK. I'll board an Air France plane and will land at Charles de Gaulle airport. From there I'm supposed to take a taxi into Paris. I'm staying at the George V. I ask about money. She says that the concierge of the hotel will have a list of cheese and the money for me. I'm supposed to stay for two days. I return Christmas Eve. Then she hangs up.
“Well?†asks Rachael.
“I'm leaving tomorrow.â€
“That seems sudden.â€
“Yeah, it's for the Christmas party.â€
“Oh yeah, I'll be there. And everything is already taken care of?â€
“I guess so, she said there'd be someone at the hotel I'd get money from, but she didn't say anything about how I was supposed to pay for my taxi before and when I was getting paid or how to do it. There is going to be a cheese list.â€
“It's the concierge, at the hotel front desk. Do you have money for the cab rides?â€
“I don't know?†I don't know how much they cost, and I think about wasting my savings getting wasted.
Rachael reaches into a kitchen cabinet door and pulls out her purse. She counts out five one hundred-dollar bills and lays them on the tabletop.
“I can't take that,†I say without enough real conviction. My voice says one thing but my eyes never look away from the crisp bills. I feel very greedy.
“No, please do.â€
“Okay, but I promise to pay you back.†I say this and I really want to mean it.
“No, it's not a problem.â€
“I will.â€
“Okay.â€
“What if your husband finds out? I don't want to get you into trouble.â€
“Don't worry, Trevor. Take the money,†Rachael says as exasperated as when I reluctantly fucked her up the ass. “He doesn't know about this. Have some fun. You know there will be moments of real frustration and having enough money can help. Also I want you to be careful and I'll see you at the party.â€
Rachael reaches for me. She presses her lips to my forehead.
“Take care of yourself.â€
“I will.â€
(END PART ONE)
-
mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
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Burnt Novel Serial Shit #16
PART TWO
Paris: Late Nights in the City of Light.
1!
I park outside my house. Mike is sitting with grandpa on the couch. They are talking. When I enter Mike gets up to leave. He doesn't have to worry. I won't punch him.
“Hey, hold on.â€
“What?â€
“I'm going to Paris,†I blurt out. If I start with a shocker I'll get their attention. It works better than I imagined. They both turn to look at me.
“When?†Mike asks.
“Tomorrow.â€
“You'll miss Christmas,†says grandpa.
“I'm only going for two days. I'll be back on Christmas Eve.â€
“Is this for your cheese job?â€
“Yeah, it's a trial run.â€
“You have a trial cheese run? What the hell is that?†Mike asks.
“I met a rich lady from Manhattan. I told you I might get a job, anyway the job is to fly to Paris to buy cheese.â€
“Why don't they fly you to Wisconsin?â€
“I get to stay in an expensive hotel. In Paris.â€
“That's the stupidest thing I ever heard,†says Mike. “You can get anything you want in New York City.
“Special cheese,†I say. “High class cheese.â€
“Wait here,†says Mike. He runs downstairs.
I sit down next to grandpa.
“There are some beautiful women in Paris,†he says with a wink. “And the French know how to have sex. Will you bring me back a sexy postcard? When Ernie Frazier went over to Paris in the fifties he brought back a whole suitcase of sexy postcards. I'm sure things haven't changed that much.â€
“Uh sure, I'll bring you back a postcard.†I say. “They are probably in color now.â€
“What?â€
“The postcards. The postcards are in color now.â€
“Oh yeah,†he says rubbing his hands together.
Mike returns, theatrically waving a sheet of paper.
“What's that?â€
“I just printed it out from the internet.â€
“What is it?â€
“Fromages.com,†He says and drops it on my lap.
The printout states that you can have traditional French cheese delivered to your doorstop within twenty-four hours.
“So,†I say. “These are probably the legal cheeses. They want the true delicacies, cheeses that aren't approved by the FDA. Ever since 9/11 US customs officials have been destroying most of the cheese trying to get into the country.â€
“Why?â€
“In the fight against terrorism.â€
“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,†says Mike.
“We live in stupid times,†says grandpa.
“What you are doing is illegal,†says Mike. “You are going to smuggle cheese onto an airplane?â€
“Um, yeah.†Put like that the job doesn't seem that appealing.
“And what if you get caught,†asks Mike “Then what?â€
“I don't know. I mean it is only cheese.â€
“Fuck the bastards,†says grandpa. “If these rich folks want to pay Trevor to go to France and bring back smelly cheese I think he should do it. Who knows why, if money is no object maybe they want a good story to tell their party guests. Rich folks have always been crazy.â€
“But its smuggling shit onto an airplane†protests Mike. “The fuckin' airport authorities are gonna kill anyone who fucks with them. And they should do it too.â€
“Pffft,†snorts grandpa with his hands in the air. “It is only cheese. They will just take it away.â€
What's legal and illegal doesn't go far in defining what should and shouldn't be done. We are a household more suited to doing things our own way. With grandpa on my side Mike doesn't have much of an argument.
“Mike can I ask you a favor?â€
“What?â€
“Did you ditch the car?â€
“Yeah.â€
That's what I thought, a car thief protesting cheese smuggling.
“Will you drive me to JFK tomorrow in the Dick's truck and then drop it off for Ricardo?â€
“Yeah.â€
“Thanks, Mike. I need to get ready.â€
Downstairs I look at my new passport. I am ready to finally use it. I do two loads of laundry. I pack one suitcase. Tomorrow I'm going to France. I can barely maintain my excitement. Then I remember I have completely forgotten about finals.
2!
I call a few of my professors. None of them answer. I leave messages saying I have an emergency and have to leave the country. I don't know how I'm gonna get my art supplies back from Janis.
I have a sick stomach thinking about school and Mike and Janis, and then Mike comes downstairs and gives me a pill.
“What is this?â€
“10mg of Valium.â€
“Thanks.â€
We drink a few beers and listen to the Brian Jonestown Massacre and it isn't long before the pill washes away all anxiety and the music floats around my head. I look over at Mike.
“I'm excited about Paris.â€
“I know you are,†he says.
“I know about Janis.†I admit.
“I know.â€
“I'm not mad.â€
“We will talk about it when you get back,†Mike says. “I love you brother.â€
“I love you too.â€
We listen to the music until we drift off to sleep.
Paris: Late Nights in the City of Light.
1!
I park outside my house. Mike is sitting with grandpa on the couch. They are talking. When I enter Mike gets up to leave. He doesn't have to worry. I won't punch him.
“Hey, hold on.â€
“What?â€
“I'm going to Paris,†I blurt out. If I start with a shocker I'll get their attention. It works better than I imagined. They both turn to look at me.
“When?†Mike asks.
“Tomorrow.â€
“You'll miss Christmas,†says grandpa.
“I'm only going for two days. I'll be back on Christmas Eve.â€
“Is this for your cheese job?â€
“Yeah, it's a trial run.â€
“You have a trial cheese run? What the hell is that?†Mike asks.
“I met a rich lady from Manhattan. I told you I might get a job, anyway the job is to fly to Paris to buy cheese.â€
“Why don't they fly you to Wisconsin?â€
“I get to stay in an expensive hotel. In Paris.â€
“That's the stupidest thing I ever heard,†says Mike. “You can get anything you want in New York City.
“Special cheese,†I say. “High class cheese.â€
“Wait here,†says Mike. He runs downstairs.
I sit down next to grandpa.
“There are some beautiful women in Paris,†he says with a wink. “And the French know how to have sex. Will you bring me back a sexy postcard? When Ernie Frazier went over to Paris in the fifties he brought back a whole suitcase of sexy postcards. I'm sure things haven't changed that much.â€
“Uh sure, I'll bring you back a postcard.†I say. “They are probably in color now.â€
“What?â€
“The postcards. The postcards are in color now.â€
“Oh yeah,†he says rubbing his hands together.
Mike returns, theatrically waving a sheet of paper.
“What's that?â€
“I just printed it out from the internet.â€
“What is it?â€
“Fromages.com,†He says and drops it on my lap.
The printout states that you can have traditional French cheese delivered to your doorstop within twenty-four hours.
“So,†I say. “These are probably the legal cheeses. They want the true delicacies, cheeses that aren't approved by the FDA. Ever since 9/11 US customs officials have been destroying most of the cheese trying to get into the country.â€
“Why?â€
“In the fight against terrorism.â€
“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,†says Mike.
“We live in stupid times,†says grandpa.
“What you are doing is illegal,†says Mike. “You are going to smuggle cheese onto an airplane?â€
“Um, yeah.†Put like that the job doesn't seem that appealing.
“And what if you get caught,†asks Mike “Then what?â€
“I don't know. I mean it is only cheese.â€
“Fuck the bastards,†says grandpa. “If these rich folks want to pay Trevor to go to France and bring back smelly cheese I think he should do it. Who knows why, if money is no object maybe they want a good story to tell their party guests. Rich folks have always been crazy.â€
“But its smuggling shit onto an airplane†protests Mike. “The fuckin' airport authorities are gonna kill anyone who fucks with them. And they should do it too.â€
“Pffft,†snorts grandpa with his hands in the air. “It is only cheese. They will just take it away.â€
What's legal and illegal doesn't go far in defining what should and shouldn't be done. We are a household more suited to doing things our own way. With grandpa on my side Mike doesn't have much of an argument.
“Mike can I ask you a favor?â€
“What?â€
“Did you ditch the car?â€
“Yeah.â€
That's what I thought, a car thief protesting cheese smuggling.
“Will you drive me to JFK tomorrow in the Dick's truck and then drop it off for Ricardo?â€
“Yeah.â€
“Thanks, Mike. I need to get ready.â€
Downstairs I look at my new passport. I am ready to finally use it. I do two loads of laundry. I pack one suitcase. Tomorrow I'm going to France. I can barely maintain my excitement. Then I remember I have completely forgotten about finals.
2!
I call a few of my professors. None of them answer. I leave messages saying I have an emergency and have to leave the country. I don't know how I'm gonna get my art supplies back from Janis.
I have a sick stomach thinking about school and Mike and Janis, and then Mike comes downstairs and gives me a pill.
“What is this?â€
“10mg of Valium.â€
“Thanks.â€
We drink a few beers and listen to the Brian Jonestown Massacre and it isn't long before the pill washes away all anxiety and the music floats around my head. I look over at Mike.
“I'm excited about Paris.â€
“I know you are,†he says.
“I know about Janis.†I admit.
“I know.â€
“I'm not mad.â€
“We will talk about it when you get back,†Mike says. “I love you brother.â€
“I love you too.â€
We listen to the music until we drift off to sleep.
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mccutcheon
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Cock sucking idiot spews more Bushshit.
“The biggest mistake would be to not pass things over to the Iraqis, create a dependency on their part, instead of developing strength and capacity and competence,†said Rumsfeld. “It's their country, they're going to have to govern it, they're going to have to provide security for it, and they're going to have to do it sooner rather than later. And that means they've got to take pieces of it as we go along.â€
The Bush administration didn't think, “It's their country†when we invaded! Oh no. And it was “mission accomplished†years ago according to the president. But now Bush says, “it's tough.â€
Seventy-four American troops have died in Iraq in October, likely to become the deadliest month for U.S. forces in nearly two years. U.S. deaths have surpassed 2,780.
In recent weeks, the security situation in Iraq has continued to spiral out of control. Shiite militia stormed police stations in Amarah Friday, seizing that southern Iraqi city. Bush noted he was scheduled to speak with U.S. commanders to determine if a change in tactics is necessary to combat the escalating violence.
The Bush administration didn't think, “It's their country†when we invaded! Oh no. And it was “mission accomplished†years ago according to the president. But now Bush says, “it's tough.â€
Seventy-four American troops have died in Iraq in October, likely to become the deadliest month for U.S. forces in nearly two years. U.S. deaths have surpassed 2,780.
In recent weeks, the security situation in Iraq has continued to spiral out of control. Shiite militia stormed police stations in Amarah Friday, seizing that southern Iraqi city. Bush noted he was scheduled to speak with U.S. commanders to determine if a change in tactics is necessary to combat the escalating violence.
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mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
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- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
Donald Driver
This was the most fun I've had at Kettle of Fish. Pack 34- Miami 24
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mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
- Posts: 4996
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
Burnt Novel Serial Shit #17
The next morning Mike is gone. I still have plenty of time to get to the airport but I'm a little panicked that Mike won't return. Then he walks into the room.
“Where were you?â€
“I made grandpa his breakfast.â€
“Oh.â€
“Here,†Mike hands me his laptop and a DVD.
“What's this?â€
“I thought you might like to watch some movies on the plane.â€
The DVD is Midnight Express.
“Thanks, but I'll stick to the movie on the plane.â€
“So what's your plan?â€
“What do you mean?â€
“I mean what's the plan for getting the cheese onto the plane?â€
I open my suitcase and show him the Saran wrap and tinfoil.
“Yeah?†Mike asks.
“Yeah.â€
“Yeah, what?â€
“I thought I'd wrap the cheese real tight, and then cover it in tinfoil, to mask the smell.â€
“Won't the tinfoil set off the metal detector?â€
“I don't know, will it?†I ask. The panic grows.
“It did in Spinal Tap.â€
“Spinal Tap?â€
“Yeah, remember when the bass player had a cucumber down his pants?â€
“Oh yeah. Spinal Tap.â€
“Foiled again.†Says Mike.
I don't laugh at his joke. I throw the tinfoil into the wastepaper basket.
“You need to travel light,†Mike says.
“Yeah, travel light.â€
“Look,†he says. “Only fill your suitcase half-full, leaving room for the cheese. Put the cheese into a pair of pants. And listen.â€
“Yeah?â€
“Let's just hope your blue eyes get you through.â€
“My eyes?â€
“Yeah, how many terrorists getting profiled have blue eyes?â€
“Probably not a lot.â€
“Right.â€
“Let's just hope they don't think you are some kind of John Walker Lindh.â€
“You mean that American kid they found in Afghanistan?â€
“Yeah. He was indicted by a federal grand jury on ten charges, including conspiring to support terrorist organizations and conspiring to murder Americans. The charges carried three life terms and 90 additional years in prison. At least they didn't execute him. You better hope your ass that smuggling cheese isn't perceived as a conspiracy to blow up an airplane.â€
“No way.†Now the panic runs cold blood through my veins.
“Like grandpa said, 'we live in stupid times'. But in times when all precautions need to be made.â€
I feel sick to my stomach.
“Mike?â€
“Yeah?â€
“You have any more valium?â€
“I'll give you some at the airport. Don't take it until you are on the plane.â€
“Yeah.â€
I take out half of the clothes I've packed. I only bring the shoes I'm wearing. Mike inspects the suitcase. We decide the plan is to be obvious. To pack the cheese in festive wrapper and carry it as though it is no big deal. If I'm stopped I'll plead ignorance.
Mike leaves but doesn't say where he is going. He promises to be back to drive me to the airport. I talk to grandpa.
“Well, I'm all packed.â€
“Good my boy. Come sit down next to me.â€
I walk over to grandpa and take a well-worn seat next to him. He puts his arm around me and looks me in the eye.
“I want you to know that I think you are doing a good thing here. I understand what Mike is worried about, he acts like an older brother figure and is concerned you might do something stupid and end up in jail. But I have faith in you. You are a bright kid.â€
“Thanks, grandpa.â€
“Remember, it is only cheese.â€
“Yeah.â€
“And don't forget my girlie postcards. In color,†he adds.
“I won't.â€
“Good, my boy.â€
“Where were you?â€
“I made grandpa his breakfast.â€
“Oh.â€
“Here,†Mike hands me his laptop and a DVD.
“What's this?â€
“I thought you might like to watch some movies on the plane.â€
The DVD is Midnight Express.
“Thanks, but I'll stick to the movie on the plane.â€
“So what's your plan?â€
“What do you mean?â€
“I mean what's the plan for getting the cheese onto the plane?â€
I open my suitcase and show him the Saran wrap and tinfoil.
“Yeah?†Mike asks.
“Yeah.â€
“Yeah, what?â€
“I thought I'd wrap the cheese real tight, and then cover it in tinfoil, to mask the smell.â€
“Won't the tinfoil set off the metal detector?â€
“I don't know, will it?†I ask. The panic grows.
“It did in Spinal Tap.â€
“Spinal Tap?â€
“Yeah, remember when the bass player had a cucumber down his pants?â€
“Oh yeah. Spinal Tap.â€
“Foiled again.†Says Mike.
I don't laugh at his joke. I throw the tinfoil into the wastepaper basket.
“You need to travel light,†Mike says.
“Yeah, travel light.â€
“Look,†he says. “Only fill your suitcase half-full, leaving room for the cheese. Put the cheese into a pair of pants. And listen.â€
“Yeah?â€
“Let's just hope your blue eyes get you through.â€
“My eyes?â€
“Yeah, how many terrorists getting profiled have blue eyes?â€
“Probably not a lot.â€
“Right.â€
“Let's just hope they don't think you are some kind of John Walker Lindh.â€
“You mean that American kid they found in Afghanistan?â€
“Yeah. He was indicted by a federal grand jury on ten charges, including conspiring to support terrorist organizations and conspiring to murder Americans. The charges carried three life terms and 90 additional years in prison. At least they didn't execute him. You better hope your ass that smuggling cheese isn't perceived as a conspiracy to blow up an airplane.â€
“No way.†Now the panic runs cold blood through my veins.
“Like grandpa said, 'we live in stupid times'. But in times when all precautions need to be made.â€
I feel sick to my stomach.
“Mike?â€
“Yeah?â€
“You have any more valium?â€
“I'll give you some at the airport. Don't take it until you are on the plane.â€
“Yeah.â€
I take out half of the clothes I've packed. I only bring the shoes I'm wearing. Mike inspects the suitcase. We decide the plan is to be obvious. To pack the cheese in festive wrapper and carry it as though it is no big deal. If I'm stopped I'll plead ignorance.
Mike leaves but doesn't say where he is going. He promises to be back to drive me to the airport. I talk to grandpa.
“Well, I'm all packed.â€
“Good my boy. Come sit down next to me.â€
I walk over to grandpa and take a well-worn seat next to him. He puts his arm around me and looks me in the eye.
“I want you to know that I think you are doing a good thing here. I understand what Mike is worried about, he acts like an older brother figure and is concerned you might do something stupid and end up in jail. But I have faith in you. You are a bright kid.â€
“Thanks, grandpa.â€
“Remember, it is only cheese.â€
“Yeah.â€
“And don't forget my girlie postcards. In color,†he adds.
“I won't.â€
“Good, my boy.â€