Visiting the Guilt Trip on the Square

Here I sit, at this little square table. Drinking my latte and checking my email with my laptop. Good music played on the coffee shop speakers while I’m minding my own business.

Then she appeared, standing at the edge of my table. She was talking to me and expecting replies. I glanced around the shop, looking for a rescuer but no one was coming to help, they were just watching me and her.

I smiled and nodded while she talked. What could I do? It was obvious that she was off her medication. The sounds coming from her lips were incoherent statements thrown together. I don’t want her to be here. I don’t want her to be talking to me.

But everyone was watching and listening. I can’t stand up and storm out. I can’t ask her to leave, that is just not done in this civilized society. The disdain in everyone’s eyes would kill me.

So there I sat. Trapped in a prison that had built up around me until she left.

Got Lots of Old Stuff Lying Around

“Get me another beer!” he yelled from the couch. Clumsily the old man picked up the tv remote and started flipping channels. “Why ain’t there no damn sports on?” he yelled at Bob Barker.

Frank put the beer on the coffee table and went back to the office in his home. It had been two months since his father had escaped the home. “The nurses were worse then the damn Japs,” he had said when he showed up on Frank’s doorstep with a suitcase in hand.

For two months the old man had been making Frank’s life miserable. He rarely got up from the couch and when he did it was just to berate Frank with another volley of insults and complaints. It’s no wonder as to why the nurses hated him.

“Check out the shitter on that critter!” rang from the living room. The old man was watching day-time soaps again…

Burning Grease For a Brighter Future

“No matter how bad of a cook you are eggs always taste the same.” Hank had read that once, and now was beginning to believe it.

His bloodshot eyes strained to stay open as he cracked open a pair of eggs. Orders for the two egg special had been coming through all night. It had become a local favorite for the after bar crowd. Drunks flocked to the greasy eggs and coffee en masse. The eggs worked their magic on the alcohol. At least long enough for a person to make it home with one eye closed.

Between order Hank stole glances at a text book splayed open under the counter, reading and re-reading the same passages over and over again. The words blurred together, moving in and out of focus. His exhausted mind couldn’t grasp the concepts of the new age economy in a post modern society any more then it could grasp the concept of fire being hot.

Driving Mr. Mossback

It was a cold winter’s night, back in 1908. I had picked up poor Mr. Mossback at the pub very late. “What have I done?” he sobbed. “I can’t believe it. I’m a failure. A complete and utter failure. I can no longer look anyone in the eye. Not my wife, not Mr. Franklin at the bank, not even you! I know what you must be thinking and the contempt that you hold for me.”

“I don’t think poorly of you Mr. Mossback,” I replied. “I never have and I never will. It doesn’t matter what you have done, you are a good god fearing man. I know this and would never look down on you Mr. Mossback.”

We drove on in silence; neither Mr. Mossback nor I spoke a word. The heavy snow fell around the automobile. I took it slow, trying to traverse the hidden path that the road had become. Each glance in the rear-view mirror confirmed what I had thought since Mr. Mossback entered the vehicle, that Mr. Mossback was defeated and reduced to a shell of a man.

We came to a halt in the driveway of Mr. Mossback’s home. The cooling engine ticked and the falling snow melted on the hood. “Mr. Mossback,” I inquired, “we’re home.” Slowly he lifted his head and took in his surroundings. He mumbled his thanks and shuffled towards his home. No longer a man, Mr. Mossback had become a shell of his previous self. The fallen snow mounted on his hunched shoulders.

It is a sad day when the weight of the world reduces a man to tears. We are all just human, you, I, and even Mr. Mossback. Maybe someday we will actually realize this.

Clowning Around

It goes with some make-up
A little costume
And odd, even stranger behavior
Isn't that what it's all about?

Sodium Pentothal

"Antics, they spin around, if not careful,
One could land on you, they were as the rain,
And collided with the puddles."
For he was the one on top, so he continued,
"Sometimes they were used as smoke screens,
Sometimes to slow, or even catalyze
Antics were jack-off-all-trades,
But you might be barter short, sometimes they're
Less than obvious and obvious fell far
One usually came after the other, and
They were closer to the paper than the distant trees."

Well, he said, he had something on his chest
He said, "Really, by now this seems best.
And they're really not always so bad."
I took a drink out of my glass, as had he,
The water, was surprisingly fresh
I agreed, and wondered if this was,
Just another one, remembering the
Film on the glass
Everyone used them, even did I?
And this, indeed yes, was one too
Antics, as he said, spin around.

The Sound of Nine Balls Breaking

Crash! An orb flew past my head and slammed into the wall. I turned and stared in disbelief.

“What the hell do you think you were doing last night?” She hollered at me as she snatched another one of my treasured snow-globes off the mantle.

“It’s ok honey-“ I tried to calm her down just as a second orb flew by me and embedded itself into the drywall beside me. “Calm down, please-“ A third and fourth came flying towards me as I dove behind the couch. Both showered broken glass, water, and a tiny house upon me. The flecks of snow slowly followed.

“I won’t calm down!” She hurled another at me, trying to arc it over the couch. “You’re the one screwing around behind my back!”

“What?” I managed to get out before the onslaught of another snow-globe and her sobbing yells.

“You know what you did last night!” Another globe crashed down. “Lipstick on your collar!” Crash! “Her scent on you!” Crash! “Your sleeping with her!” She reached for another Snow-globe but all nine had already been thrown. She collapsed to her knees sobbing.

Root-Beer Smack Down

I leapt from the top rope bringing my elbow down in an overhead smash. My swing landed squarely on his forehead, knocking him over. Before he hit the ground I was leaping from turnbuckle to turnbuckle raising my hands to the roaring crowd encouraging their cheers. They chanted my name over and over, for the mighty Root-Beer who had just put the smack down.

In Memory

'No matter how corrupt, greedy,
and heartless our government,
our corporations, media, and our religious and charitable institutions may become, the music will still be wonderful....

If I should ever die, God forbid,
let this be my epitaph:

'The Only Proof He Needed
For The Existence Of God
Was Music''

"And so it goes, and so it goes..."

Kurt Vonnegut
1922-2007

A man to be missed...

War of Words

Crash, bam, boom
Thunder and lightning
Race through the heavens
Striking all that oppose
Crushing the opposition
Nothing can stop the juggernaut
The war machine
From reeking havoc
Scalding insults
From one child to another
Can leave scars
Forever

How Green Is Your Grass

“Is it time mom? Is it? Can I? Huh? Can I?”

“Ugh, let mommy get a cup of coffee first.”

Jack plopped himself down on the couch as his mother dragged herself to the kitchen. He always loved Easter. It was the one time of year that he got to tear apart the home and not get in trouble. In fact, if he destroyed enough of the home and actually found all of the brightly painted eggs his mom and dad would reward him with a basket filled with jellybeans, assorted candies, and the brightest colored green grass that he had ever seen.

At least that is how it was in the old days. When they lived in the house. When mom and dad were still together.

Jack’s mom emerged from the kitchen with a steaming mug in her hand. A smile crept across her face. Jack was patiently waiting for her go ahead. “Alright Jack,” she said, “you know the rules. The eggs are anywhere in this apartment.”

He dashed from the couch looking everywhere for the eggs. Behind the TV, in the bathroom, he even found one in the egg carton in the fridge. In no time he was finished, the hunt was over. Back in the house he had to look for ever to find all the eggs. The search was always the best part.

His mom gave him a bear hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Good job Jack. I love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Ear Wax

You feel so good
When I stick you in
And twirl you about
You give me the pleasures
That no one else can
My double ended
Soft touch
Q-tip of love

Epiphany

The garage door slowly opened as the home came alive. Hall and kitchen lights flipped on, the stove warmed up, and the gas fireplace ignited. Lina wearily dragged herself from her car. The cold concrete on her bare feet jolted her awake. She grabbed her boots and bolted for the warm confines of her home.

Soft plushy carpet welcomed her bare feet. Abandoning her boots at the door she made her way through the house. She tugged at the straps and clasps of her clothing and left it where it fell.

Slipping into a pair of flannel pajamas Lina made her way to the kitchen. Her left over lasagna in the oven was hot. She ate dinner, grabbed her copy of Macbeth, and curled up on the couch in front of the fire. Her eyes scanned the page. She threw the book down in disgust. “I can’t stand Shakespeare!”

Into Lina's Mind

Lina took one long stride after another into the middle of the stage. Into the middle of an entropic mess. Music blared over the sound system, DJ White Noise was throwing down. Roaring cheers emanated from the ungulating mass in the confined space. All eyes were focused on the lone figure in the middle of the stage.

Lina took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her nerves only settled down as much as her restricting corset would allow her to breath.

“You guys ready for a show!” she yelled into her microphone. The crowd erupted. “I said, are you ready for a show!” Roars from the throng were deafening.

The girl skipped across the stage. Her feet ached in their tight confines. She just wanted to be at home in her pink fuzzy bunny slippers, not in the middle of the stage in black thigh high leather boots. No price would be to great for her to pay to get off that stage.

“I don’t think you guys are ready!” her booming voice echoed over the speakers. The crowd boiled over. Cat calls rang out from veterans of the show, they knew what was going to happen next.

Lina jumped up and down clapping her hands giddy laughter escaped from her lips. Her short plaid school girl skirt flapped with her movement exposing her long legs and beyond. She closed her eyes as she jumped, time slowed down to a standstill, and she was mentally transported back home. No loud music. No groping eyes. Only peace and quiet. Wrapped up in a heavy blanket in front of the fireplace with a literary classic in her hands.