Tuesday, February 17, 2004

I love e.e. cummings.

societyfuckedme
I
he's big,smiles,
--a clown that's
not funny
but quite mean—
he's going to eat.
(big teeth)

funny to feel eaten,
and cycled
around.
and funny how this feels
so wrong (and goes round
and round)
when does it stop?
where is it found?

laughter,dead balls fall
balled into dead—out of reality.

II
Society, fuck you,
laughing coon,
bigsmilingman.
go down and fall
and leave me be.

ifeeldead
i feel eaten
BEATEN
d e s t r o y e d
fad
ed
and gone
left
leaving

Society why won't you die
be shot by an assassin?
if i could shoot a gun
i'd shoot you down
and you'd be gone.
right in the head
. . .dead.

i have will,will inside
and captured butterflies
i have things most gracious
but they're all circumsized
i'm just a penis,aren't i society
a penis for your insides.
all i have is in you,stabbing
(you) PRICK
–ing.
you should feel glad i'm circumsized.
i'm just a penis,i go inside.
i'm too hard,but really flaccid inside.
i guess we fucked in the end.

III
you to me i to you
me and her and all them too
fucked you inside,outside,through.
i hope your face erred in pleasure;
i hope your pussy felt really good.
my penis didn't
it felt wasted
it felt desecrated,raped,and forced.

i'll ejaculate.
spawntheSEED.
down we go—ashes, ashes;
bleed;

ovulation?
sure as we breathe.

Society,you're of the sexist breed.
like your fucking?

IV
i was a virgin
--doing fine
then you came along
and made me go.

you whore,
cur,(metrosexual i say with a smile,
that term so numb)
you boar.
sleuthing egotistical bore.

i was a virgin
--doing fine
then you fucked me,
showed me all i am is just a penis,
and i go inside.
nothing beautiful—i'm of no great design.

sure as we breathe,i'm dying—
dying by your whoreish deeds.
Society,you deserve to bleed.

your period's a few days away.
what they hey—let's fuck today.
maybe we'll have a baby,
just like yours is god.

V
you beast,
with large teeth,
and an even wider O
--the one that's your whole—
(hole)
the one where i go in,
and go in slow.
and there's hair there,
i know.

pub(ic)[hair]:I:lic(k),
my tongue in there.
raw.
and then my stick
to poke around.

VI
i grab your breast,you beast.
horny harsh hands.
(lustful lashes land)

your breast:
milks us all.
sour,curdled milk.
and the nipples are harsh.


Society,your period's a few days away.
(and we're fucking today)
be sure to wear a tampon,
don't let it leak away.

be sure to fuck as many as you can
give birth to more children,
i think i like wacking around the Bush.

VII
i grab your stomach,you beast.
horny harsh hands.
(lustful lashes land)
no-man's land.
sex is the juice
in my trench where i wage.

sex(less)ed fucking.

Society,you have strong strangling hands
they grab me and i can barely stand.

fuck you,man.

VIII
i guess we fucked in the end.
it was well (and good) and grand,
and now i'll see you later.

Death is release, a bloodsoaked fan.
thank god for that much to have had.

I
discombobulated
misaligned, disguised.
disinfected, disentwined.
i am all my parts, and broken hearts,
and cupid shot my eyes.
point blank.
sigh.

and it stings.
cannot see.
arrow me.
point blank,
and goodbye.

disassociated,
disenboweled, fallen now.
disaster, cannot will not do.
i'm worthy when it's true.
useless, disused.
throw me aside, and aside and aside
and aside till i fall.
a tissue on the wall,
snotty, diseased.
sneeze.
and i'm here.
on the wall.
down i fall.
have an issue,
grab a tissue.
on the wall.
down i fall.

cupid shot my eyes
blinded me.
cannot see.
goodbye.
alibi.
lullaby.
rock me cradle
cry.

cupid shot me in the eyes.
point blank.
sigh.

point blank.
and goodbye.
love is blind.
shot my eyes.
can't find it.
where does it lie.

in the grave.
in the ground.
in the soil.
in the earth.
it lies.

and from your mouth.
it lies.
belie.
shout down.
cry.
lullaby.

cupid shot my eyes.

II
tired, and sick,
passerby.
walking through.
don't bother.
i'm fine.

pedestrians,
and the sidewalks are cold.
their feet are getting frostbitten.
winter—winter—die.
leave me alone, let me walk outside.

i miss the walking
i miss my feet,
mechanical,
on the ground.
and that certain feeling,
certain surround,
of being out and about.
and not so wound.

release expound.
till found.

III
welcome, and twiddle dee and twiddle dum.
people in clothes—their habiliments
and they wander round.
earning their mighty dollar, the green fiend.

fill out the applications
say thank you with a smile.
they say they'll get back to you.
a day leaves, another comes.
no call. nothing.
frustration? no.
anticipation? no.
only this thing.
society.
binding us all.
binding me.

welcome, and twiddle dee and twiddle dum.
when you're hired you work it's fun.
got to love it every day.
when things could be so much simpler
in a better way.

IV
don't
ask
me.

don't
tell
me.

i
don't
know.

let me go
let me go.

i
don't know.

let go.
leave me alone.
want to feel whole.
want to leave.
want to go.

leave
me
alone.
don't
hold
onto
me
like that.

let me go home.
let me live how i feel.
let me be who i see.

don't ask me.
let go.
leave me alone.
want to go.
want to feel whole.

leave
me
alone.

i know what i know.
leave
me
alone.

leave me alone.

V
sun rises and smiles
and moon leaves in a smirk
and the clouds come and settle
and haggle round.

another day
has been found.

VI
the cigar smoking sky
ashen and aflame.
it coughs, smoker's cough.

his lungs are black
full of collected tar.
from smoking.
for being what you are.

he smells like incense
and smoke lingers by.
and he puffs out clouds
getting blacker with time.

the cigar smoking sky
has smoked since it could.

surgeon general warning:
smoking is hazardous.

and where's the marlboro man?
he's up there fine.
and cigar smoking sky,
soon you'll die.
of lung failure
of coughing as you try to breathe.

everything wil blacken
and ashes breathe.
and surgeon general warning:
it's hazardous to smoke.
and ashes breathe
everything will blacken
will heave.

we'll have to do any autopsy
when you die.
you coughing old guy,

cigar smoking sky.

VII
when trying to link
this and this
and that and that
i found none
and found in some places
it was fat
with comparison.
and that some things
tie together
here.

these strings
of words
are
beads

these strings
of words
are ships
fleeting on shores
going to things
they adore.

but frustration
is on the shore
when they land
and it's sailing us away.

we're linked in some way.
all these words
and what they say.

in some way.
but i've lost what to say.
and what it means.
let's sail away
to the shore's bay.
and forget it for today.
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Saturday, February 14, 2004

The Desolate Shatter and the Open Plain

This was the poem that formed the story I just posted two posts back. It's not done yet, but I like where it's ended right now..I might add more to it though.

the desolate shatter and the open plain
you held my hand
through the night
your palm was stern
the time went on.

we were there
in a world of moan
there was nothing—
the desolate shatter
and the open plain.

there in the grass
is where we were lain
would you love me
the same?

there in the grass—
that is where we
were lain.

what is despair
i said to you.
there was no answer
you only looked ahead.

and backwards
and your eyes were blank.

what is despair
and i thought
there in the grass.
where we were lain.

i felt your face
you didn't move.
you only looked ahead.
you smelled like grass.

you smelled like grass.
what is despair?

fresh cut,
fresh mown—
is this
the desolate shatter?
is this
the open plain?
we're lain here.

there we'll be.

the grass nods
its tails to and back.
you won't answer.
your eyes are black.

a man came
from the shadows
of night.
he held something
in his hand—
your face reflected
from it.

the man was tall.
he wore a hat
covering his face.
the shadow
was over his eyes.

and i ask you
what is despair?
the man approaches
his eyes become clear.
his eyes are wild.
and i ask you
what is despair?

who was the man?
why were his eyes wild?
i asked you.
you didn't answer.
you only looked ahead.
always ahead.
never back.
never at me.

you held my hand
through the night.
and the man's eyes
glew. in the darkness.
in the open plain
the desolate shatter.

what was that
in his hand?
would it stab me,
rench me, wound my core?
would it injure, sever,
and sore?
what would it do?
i said.
you didn't answer.

when time got to passing
and the night was leaving—
was leaving with soft sigh—
and you were still holding me,
my hand, you were still looking ahead—
"mommy," i said.

mommy,
i said.

mommy, i cried,
mommy i don't like this man
he's mean and looks evil.
and is he going to hurt me mommy?
how can you let him stand there mommy?
how can you, i cried.
you only stared.
with those dead eyes.

dead eyes.
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Maggotula Rose

Well, here's the poem that "Would I were a maggot, sucking most sweet divine" came from.

maggotula rose
would i were a maggot
where could i be so dry
sucking sweet divine.

would i were a maggot
turning hereto to a fly
with wings of gild of gold of age
being most sucking sweet divine.

perfunctory—that sad sigh
most enduring, livid creature
wherefore do you ride?

wherefore i think i knew
but lost as innocence hast cocooned
alas a hush—alas a mush—
onward horse thou must.

neigh and weary
quite blearied
quaint and dreary
perfunctory—that sad sigh.
still i ask day and out—
wherefore dost thou ride?

upon a steed
most astute aseiged
from whence we grace—and whence we race
the horse of no face
and hereupon—graced and songed
perfunctory dost ride.

would i might—
would i say—
wherefore dost thou ride tonight?

would i were a maggot—
sick and vile.
most wonted—most futile.

would i were a maggot
there must i say
the rawness would feign.
and there i would be
sucking sweet divine.
changing into
a fly.

where here i am
and here i be—
human being,
when in my heart
the strokes the art
i feel i am i feel i see
all i ever
will be.

would i were a maggot—
whence i already am.

so sad melancholy feast
till full be the beast
whereto my heart—
whereto beats.

so sad melancholy feast
whereto decay
till full be the beast.
whereto my heart—
whereto beats.

so sad melancholy feast
where here i am
and here i be—
human being,
when in my heart
the strokes the art
i feel i am i feel i see
all i ever
will be.
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The Pig of the Machine (The Desolate Shatter and the Open Plain)

Me and mommy were in the kitchen. I like the kitchen it's a beautiful place. I can sit there and me and mommy will talk about things and I can ask her many questions. Me and mommy at this time were eating our breakfast. We did it every day.

Mommy had her newspaper in her hand. I read the heading and it was about how we had dropped the second bomb on Japan and the war was ending. Mommy said she was glad about it but she said it was bad. I asked her why it was bad but she said it's not something a kid should know. I wanted to know but mommy wouldn't tell me. I moved my spoon around in my cereal and looked in my bowl. It was white and had the cereal in it. I still wanted to know but mommy wouldn't tell me. I wished mommy would to me.

Mommy was eating her usual. It was toast with jelly and butter and the paper was set down as she ate a piece. I asked her if it tasted good and she said yes and I said that's good. And then I told her my cereal was good and took in some bites. When I looked back up she was reading the paper again. It moved and made little noises. I stood up from my table and told mommy I was going to watch some cartoons. She said there wouldn't be any cartoons on and that I had school soon. I said okay and I went in the living room and turned on the TV.

It was on the news. They showed a picture of a big explosion. It was big. There was a big cloud of it and I thought it looked like a mushroom. I didn't know what it was but I knew that it was a bomb and that it had ended the war. Mommy was glad about it but she hadn't told me why. The news lady with blonde hair was going on and on about something about unconditional something and she was saying she was glad the war was over. I guess I was too. But I'd always liked the war and I thought it would be cool to be in one.

I had army men they were made of plastic. I would play war with them it was fun. I would always make General Ulysses the leader of the green side and General Eisenhower on the tan side. Then I'd have them do war and it was always so much fun. General Ulysses was always the winner because he was better than them all. He was the most strong and could stand up to anything that came up to him. He couldn't be killed ever and he was powerful. Around him the greens would feel glad and they'd always win. But not without some dying but it turned out good in the end. The tans lost. I can't remember any time the tans had won. They were just not as good as General Ulysses. He was better than them all and would never lose. It was fun to play war. I even had paratroopers and they'd come down and land and it was great. I like the way they fall.

When I was sitting there thinking about how fun war was mommy said it was almost time to go. I told her okay and I went through the channels. It seemed every channel had the same thing on it and it was with the big explosion looking like a mushroom. I decided maybe mommy was right and there was nothing on the TV so I went back in the kitchen. Mommy told me I should get my coat on and I did it. I put it on and it felt nice and warm.

We got in the car and mommy started the engine. She kept saying she was glad the war was over but she said it had been a bad war. I asked her why it had been bad again and she said a boy shouldn't know that so I gave up. We backed out of the garage and went outside. Then we were going and she was taking me to school. Then mommy would go to work. Mommy worked at a sewing shop she made clothes. She was a good sewer and she had sewed me many things. I wished I could sew like mommy. Then I'd be able to make her even more proud. But mommy was proud of me I knew she told me it many days. It always made me smile I was glad to make her proud.

I was looking out the window watching the cars pass by just thinking. Over there there was a car passing by and there were shops and places where you buy things and it was all passing too fast and I couldn't see it. I was thinking about what I would learn in school today. I hoped it was about the war and how it had ended and why it was good but it was bad too. I wanted to know and maybe they would tell me it there.

Then all the sudden there was a bump and then it was all flying. I heard my mommy scream and it made me scared more scared than I've ever been and I started crying. I didn't know what was going it was all over and it was all over. And then I went black and I couldn't see anymore but I was still awake somehow and I didn't know how.

Me and mommy were in an open field and it was bare and didn't have anything. There was only the ground and the sky and there was nothing else it was all bare. Mommy was holding my hand and she was staring ahead and I was crying. I asked mommy what had happened and she said nothing and didn't even move. I was so scared and I wanted to just run but mommy's hand was on me. I couldn't run then I wouldn't have her hand on me and then maybe I'd be even more scared.

I sat there and sat there and then it was getting night. The sun was going down and it was a big circle and it was fire. I watched as it slowly all darkened and I wondered where I was and I was still crying but mommy's hand was still on me and so I was doing okay. Then I just lay there and I wondered where I was and I wanted to know but mommy wouldn't tell me when I asked her she only stared ahead and her eyes were not moving. I was telling myself I was okay but I really wasn't I felt like I was going to just run or I was going to die or anything I didn't know. I was scared and that was all I knew and I didn't know what was going to happen.

Then there was a man in the distance I could see him coming it was his eyes. They were burning eyes and I swear they were there in the distance. And it was so scary I put my arms around mommy and held her close and I tried to make the man with the eyes go away but I couldn't. And mommy didn't do anything she only stared ahead and didn't say anything to me and didn't move. Mommy I cried and I cried and my tears fell on her I was still crying. She wouldn't answer my voice was going hoarse from all my screaming and I didn't know how much longer I could take it. The man was getting closer and closer and his eyes were glowing in the dark like the stars I had on my ceiling. I felt like something was going to happen and it was going to be bad and I didn't know what.

I wanted the man to get here already and do what he was going to do and do it. I was sick of being afraid I didn't like it at all. I didn't want to be afraid but there was nothing I could do. Mommy was what was scaring me the most she wasn't doing anything. She wasn't doing anything at all and she usually did all the time. Mommy I still was crying and I was asking her what was wrong but she wouldn't tell me. She was only staring ahead and I wondered what was wrong with her and I wished I could help her. There was nothing I could do I grabbed her face but it did nothing she only stared ahead. Her eyes they were scaring me and she was scaring and the man was coming. He was getting closer and I was shivering and I was so cold and I was so afraid.

It took the man so long to get there but when he got there he was there. And he looked at me and I was scared and I looked at him. He was tall so tall he was taller than the sky and his face was everywhere. I could see his eyes but they were many eyes and they glew and they were scary. The eyes were evil and they had bad in them and I wanted to run. I wanted to run so bad but I couldn't run there was no where to go and if I left mommy something might happen to her.

You stupid child the man said and I said yes I was a stupid child and I asked him to leave me alone. He said no it was time to make me a man it was time to kill me. I asked him what he meant why was he going to kill me but he wouldn't say. He only said it was time to die it was time for me to be a man. I asked him what was wrong with mommy he said she couldn't help me. He said she wasn't going to do anything for me now. It was too late he said and he said I was going to die.

I asked him what it was to die. And he said I should know and I said I did but I didn't understand it. He called me a stupid child again and stared me down with all his eyes. He was so tall and it was so scary. I wanted to run away again but I couldn't run away that would be bad.

He started calling me bad words that mommy said were bad and he said it was almost time. He said it was time to slaughter me like a little pig and like I was a little maggot. I asked him what a maggot was and he said it was me and then I asked him why I was a pig and he said because I was. I told him that wasn't an answer but I gave up and shivered when he said stop asking so many questions. I was so scared and I was getting more scareder by the second. I didn't know what was going to happen all I knew was I was going to die whatever that was. I guessed it was better to die than face this man. Or this monster whatever it was I didn't know.

It looked like a man but it looked like a machine too. Like a TV or my video games I played. He looked like he was both a man and a machine but wasn't all at once. I wondered what he was and I asked him and he said he was what I wanted him to be. I asked him what it was I wanted to be and he said that's for me to know. I asked him what it was for me to know and he said in big anger that it was enough with the questions already you stupid maggot. I said maggot sounded like a evil word and he said it was much more than that that it was that and more. He said something about maintain the status quo or something I didn't know what he was saying. I was too scared and I didn't know what he was talking about. I asked him in my shivering voice what the status quo or whatever it was was and he told me to shut up already you insolent little twerp.

That was when the sun started rising. We had argued all night and I had asked him questions. Mommy was still only looking ahead and it was like she was looking right at the man with the glowing eyes all over him. Her hand was still on me she had held my hand all night. I was thankful for it but I wished mommy would snap out of it. It was scaring me and I was really scared of this man and I was scared that she wasn't moving. I didn't know what was going and I thought soon I was going to find out.

Suddenly the monster man came down and he started beating me. The pain hurt it was all over me but it didn't hurt at the same time. It was strange and I wondered what was going on. Soon I was bleeding all over and there was sores on me and I was all crackled and I was wounded like in war like Ulysses never could have happened to him. The monster said to me it's time for the stupid child to die he doesn't need to live anymore. I only sat there and was being beaten and it hurt so much but it didn't hurt at the same time. It was so strange and eventually I was beaten down and my skin fell off and my muscles were coming off and suddenly I was falling apart. I was only a skeleton and I can't describe it it's too ugly but I still felt like me. And suddenly the monster took my bones and he ate me. And I was in his stomach.

In his stomach there was blood everywhere. Then I saw there was a chalkboard in the corner of his stomach and on the chalkboard it said pig. And then beside pig there was a hole in the chalkboard. I went through the hole shivering and I was only bones but I still felt like me. Inside the chalkboard I tumbled down and it was blackness. Then there was a man's hand and it grabbed me and he said hush child it'll be all right. Then the man was touching me all over and it made me afraid more than ever. He wasn't touching me in love but it was in a strange way that I didn't like and mommy had always told me to stay away from strangers.

Then the man started going up and down on me and then there was something touching me and I thought it didn't feel right. I looked down and I saw he was doing the bad thing to me. But I only could stand there and I felt like bones I didn't know if I was bones but I felt like it. I didn't feel any pain and it felt like nothing but I could tell I was feeling like I was in cold. It felt like cold on me when it was all over my hands.

The man going up and down on me made a moan and I looked in his eyes and I saw me in those eyes but it was him I was seeing. He said I was being born and I was being raped into existence and forced but I didn't know what he meant. He said it was time to grow up boy you've had enough of your piglet years. All I could do was stare and be frozen and scared and feel like I was out in cold like it was freezing me. I asked him what he meant but he didn't say anything and I wasn't looking in his eyes anymore I was seeing through his eyes. And I was in his body. It felt weird and strange.

I was out in the fields again and my mommy was lying there and I wanted to hug her and I wanted to get out of this place. I knew it was only a dream but I didn't know anymore. I looked at my hands and they were big and then I looked at my feet and they were bigger too and I wondered what had happened. That was when I looked over beside mommy and I saw me all bloody and then there was a big worm looking thing there and it was eating mommy and me and it was eating the ground and the sky and the air and everything. It was eating it all and the worm thing was changing it was growing wings and it was growing two eyes that were black and strange. And then I knew what it was it was a fly. I'd see those around the house they were pests.

The monster was still above me and I tried to ask him what was going on but I made a buzz sound and then I looked down and I was a fly and I had wings. There were other worm things everywhere and they were eating everything they were eating it away. And then it was all eaten and the monster too. They were all changing into flies and flying away and they buzzed with me. Buzz buzz they said and I buzzed with them.

The maggots I thought and that was when I woke up. Mommy was beside me her head was bleeding and her leg looked broken. But she was alive and she was screaming but it was a low scream. She had been screaming for a long time and it was dying in her. I knew what had happened then. We had crashed and it had been a bad one. I was still stuck in the car seat and I tried to move and it hurt but I could do it. Mommy was yelling and I told her it was okay I was okay but I asked her if she was okay and then she didn't answer. Her scream had died in her. She was dead wasn't she I knew it. It was just like the war only the best survived and all the rest died. I cried and one tear fell on my hand and it was wet.

I got out of the car and then I looked around. It looked almost like the plain only there were scatters of things everywhere. It looked all dead. And I wondered what had happened and suddenly far away in the distance I saw a big mushroom. It looked like a big mushroom and the ground shook and I knew it was a big explosion. It had been a big explosion. I looked at my hands and I saw they were hurt but good. I looked back at the car and I saw mommy wasn't going to come out was she and I cried some more. This shouldn't have been happening to me why was it happening and I didn't understand. Why had there been the big explosions I didn't understand. The big mushroom slowly went away and then I was left there and there was nothing.

I lied down on the ground I felt so tired and I felt so sad. Mommy was dead they were all dead. Someone had bombed us and I didn't know who but it was bad. I closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes and I was lying in bed but something in me felt changed. I didn't feel the same. I got up out of my room and I was crying and shaking and then I walked into the kitchen. Mommy was there and she was alive and then suddenly she wasn't there. There was a big explosion and I was sure it was the mushroom cloud again. I saw it all in slow motion. I saw her blood and guts and it was gross. I saw it all slowly go away and become nothing and I saw her die. And I shut my eyes I didn't want to see it.

I opened my eyes and there was a pig there. He snorted at me and I snorted at him. And we were pigs and I snorted back and he snorted to me we were talking. He said they were going to kill them. He said holocaust and I didn't understand. He said genocide and I didn't understand. He said it was time to die.

We were brought into a farmhouse and the man's eyes glew and he said it was time to grow up. I asked him what me meant but it only came out in snorts and he said shut up you fucking pig. I said the f-word was a bad thing to say but it only snorted out of me I was a pig I couldn't talk. He said quiet again and I was quiet.

In the farmhouse there were sharp blades and things swinging everywhere. And there were dead pigs' bodies all around and it smelled terrible. It smelled so strong it made me want to barf but I only snorted. There was blood everywhere and it was drying and some of it looked like it was disappearing. The blades made swoosh noises and it was scary but I only snorted some more. The man with the glewing eyes said he was going to kill me first I was such a loud fucking pig. The f-word was bad I said it was bad but it only came out in a weak snort. I didn't want to snort anymore I knew it was bad. The pig beside me was quiet the whole way.

The farmer pulled out a shotgun and the barrel stared me in the face and I looked back at it. It was big and scary and deep inside it I could only see blackness and it was dark. He pulled the trigger there was a bang it was all in slow motion. I saw the little pieces of it hit me and tear into me and I saw it all go in me and then I was dead. And I shut my eyes before I died.

I opened my eyes again and I was crying right away when I opened them. Where was I this time I thought and how much longer was this going to happen.

I was in the car again we were driving mommy was looking at the road and I was looking outside. The passing stores and shops went by and were going too fast for me to see them. Some cars were passing by. I was here again but why I didn't understand.

Then it all shook again. And then there was the blackness again and I opened my eyes. I was in the car again but this time the outside was different. I could read the signs. One said whores all night right here. Another said welcome to hell. Another one said time to grow up stupid kid. Another one said apply inside for a job and get it. It all flew by a million things I only read what I could and I didn't understand what any of them meant. What was going on I didn't know.

I looked over at my mom and she was older and she was gray. Her leg was broken she said to me and she couldn't walk anymore. I asked her why she was older and I cried and I wondered when it was going to end and I wondered what was happening. Mommy said nothing after that she only looked ahead and I was reminded of the man in the open fields with all his eyes and mommy's hand on me. Her eyes looked dead and I turned back to the window.

We kept going forever. The signs passed me by. Welcome to hell on said and another said time to grow up and another said something about taxes. I didn't understand what was going on.

We kept driving and driving and mommy was quiet. And I started to get more scared and more scared. I asked mommy what was going on but she didn't say anything she only looked ahead. Then there was something in me that wanted to open the door and go outside and stop driving. I tried to fight it but it won. I opened the door and fell out and I found out we had been going fast and I fell right on my head and cracked it open but I shut my eyes as it happened. I didn't want to see the blood and my brains coming out it would look bad and I didn't want to see it.

My eyes opened again and I was breathing heavily. I was hooked up to a machine and the machine said to me it was society. And I asked it what it meant but it didn't answer. It said it was everything and everyone and that it made things work. I asked it why I was breathing so heavily if it made things work. It said that I was broken and that I wasn't accepting society. I told it that I'd do anything it wanted as long as it let me live and made me fixed. It said okay and then it reached in me with metal fingers. The fingers hurt me and were cold and felt like coldness when I was out in it too long. And it grabbed out my heart and tore it and it was beating thud thud and it said it would need this if I was going to live and be fixed. I said okay but I realized I was dying even though I was alive. Without my heart I was dying and it didn't feel good. I was having trouble. I shut my eyes again and told society that I didn't like it and that I wanted my mommy. It laughed at me and said I was such a stupid kid and I was naive and I had a lot to learn.

I opened my eyes for the last time and I realized where I was. I got up from the chair. I looked around and then there was mommy. She said it's okay I know you're suffering from your psychological disease. I asked her what it meant but she said nothing and I saw she was hooked up to a machine. I said it was society and she stared at me and said I was talking nonsense. I told her it was okay I probably was. She said she was dying and I cried and I saw that she was hooked up to a tank. It said oxygen on it. I said it should say society there but she said hush now. I asked her if I needed to grow up and she said I already had but not inside. I said I didn't want to grow up and she said that was fine.

She told me to tell her a story before she died. She said I was a genius at telling stories and that I had a way with them even if they were violent. I asked her what she meant but she didn't answer. I told her about the war and I asked her again what it was about.

She put her old hand on me and said I didn't need to know and I asked her why. She said a kid like me didn't need to know. I said I wasn't a kid it was a long time since then. She said oh you're still a kid you'll always be one and then her eyes were leaving. I said I didn't know what I would do without her and she said she didn't know what she would do without me. And then she was gone and I cried. And I cried again and I cried again.

Then the men came in and I knew who they were. They wrapped me in a jacket but it was straight and I fought and I didn't want to leave my mommy but they said I had to. They said it was time to go. I asked them where they were taking me and they said they were taking me to the funny farm. I asked if the funny farm was where they killed pigs and they said no and said I was crazy. I decided to not say anything else and they took me away. They said they were going to analyze me and understand me and they were going to try and cure me. I said I didn't want to grow up and I started screaming and crying and all I could think of was my mommy and how she was dead. She was dead and I didn't know what I was going to do and I wanted to just be with her and have her for myself the rest of my life. I started screaming I wanted my mommy and then they tried to give me a shot. I fought and they said calm down this won't hurt and I said yet it will and I said I want my mommy. Then they gave me the shot even though I was fighting. They missed many times and then they finally got it and then I started feeling tired and I mumbled and mumbled and I said I didn't want to leave my mommy. I didn't want to leave her I didn't want to see her gone.

Then I went to a nice sleep and it felt good to sleep. There were no dreams none of it and if there were they were sweet dreams that didn't feel so real and didn't feel so sad. And in the dreams I saw my mommy over and over again and I never awoke from the dreams for a long time.

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Friday, February 13, 2004

Ambition makes you look pretty ugly. Kickin squealin gucci little piggy.

I wrote a 5,000+ word story last night. I thought it turned out good, but wasn't good in other parts.

It seemed the piece developed into whatever it wanted; having read a bit of Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, parts of that influenced the piece in varying ways; also, other things, biographical things as well as things that are a part of me.

It's like that with any piece I'd like to think, though.

I'm sort of hesitant to post it, but I guess I'll post it nonetheless. Maybe when I get home, if my mom's not there, or she will let me on (she said she would let me on since I have two report-speeches to do by Tuesday, which is when I go back to school since Monday is off this weekend). I should post it sometime this weekend, or today, at least.

I also wrote part II of "Martha." I get the feeling it wasn't written as well as the first part--part I--of "Martha." This is because when I wrote Martha's first part, I was in a mood that just worked so well with what was going on with Martha. But I'll post that too. So all-in-all, that's about 7,000 words of stuff right there; the 5,000+ of the first piece I mentioned (which I haven't thought of a name for yet; I'm thinking something like "Machine Pig" or "Machine of Pig" or something like that. We'll see) and then there's the second part of Martha--just a bit over 2,000 words. That's about 7,000 or more words. So I can post back in my Random Story Thread.

Hm. But I wonder. OB's going to be down this weekend, according to the announcement. And I'm wondering if there will even be a writing forum in the new version? James had mentioned there might not be offhand to me once, I think. I'm not sure.

I hope there still is, though. But if there isn't, that's fine.

The title is from "Paranoid Android," by Radiohead. I love Radiohead. Enough said there, I think.

I have to go--time for Chemistry again. Woohoo...
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Thursday, February 12, 2004

Okay. I don't know why I'm feeling like this lately.

It's the light-headed feeling I'm used to having sometimes. It's hit me many times while I'm online--I'm sure I've mentioned it offhand many times to other people.

Anyway, today and yesterday I have had that feeling to a lower level. Is it just that I'm tired? Fatigue? What is it? Is there something wrong with me, do I need to see a doctor? I don't know.

It's not too serious, really. Half of it was that my glasses weren't clean, I found out. I fixed that in history class--I took them off and breathed hot air on them, which fogged them up so that I could wipe them with my Led Zeppelin shirt--thus making them clean. So now I can see better in that way. My glasses must've been pretty dirty--since I can see better now.

But everything seems to be just going on around me, and I have to focus to pay attention--to keep concentrated. My light-headedness to this lower extent isn't too bad though. I'm guessing it's just that I'm tired. I've been pushing myself lately--especially on writing--and not going to bed until late many nights.

I didn't write last night though, but as I was lying in my bed reading The Poet, I wanted to. But I couldn't. I had to force myself to sleep.

My school grades are mostly bad this quarter so far. Another thing that's discouraging. But I'm going to work on it. I'm working on it.

Oh, and I dropped off an application at Perkin's yesterday! And they're going to be hiring at Video Action again. Video Action is really close to our house--and it's right close to Century High School (my school) so that would be a great job to get. And then if I get a job, then I can start saving money, whee, woo. And I can get a cable modem, perhaps.

Anyway, back to this lightheaded feeling.

I took a nap yesterday, since I was tired, and that seemed to help. But I still have the lightheaded feeling, to a lower extent. Strange strange strange, but not much I can do about it.

We took this practice test for the AP test in English. The thing is seriously hard. They use all these words that I don't even know, and it just sucks, simply put.

Anyway.

Anyway. Yeah.

Bell rang again, Mitch needs to leave. Off to Chemistry. I just love it, you know. All that math and those story problems and measuring. It's enough to make me want to go out in the coldness streaking naked and say "Hello" to a passerby while giving them a crazy look and saying,

"We're like a colony of E. Coli. I'm roast beef. Let's infect, baby."

Nein, nein.

Bonjour.

And blitzkrieg to you all, to all a good night.
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Would I Were a Maggot, Sucking Most Sweet Divine.

The title's from a poem I made a while back. It contains one of my favorite words, which I'm sure you all know.

What is a maggot? It is the earlier form of a fly, before it is a fly. It's a fly when it's just a child, if I can put it on those terms. A child.

What do maggots do? What do they look like?

Well, here's a picture:



What do they do, then? They eat the dead, decaying tissues of things. The ones in this picture are on a corn seed. A decayed, dead corn seed.

Damnit, I hate this. I have no time to make a post. The bell just rang.

Basically, when I look back at my childhood, I would say I was just a maggot, sucking most sweet divine.

And when I wish to be a child, I say, would I were a maggot, sucking most sweet divine.

Anyway, I wanted to do a nice post.

I have to go.

Homework is driving my crazy. I was up till 1 doing it last night. Stupid Chemistry homework, all math, and stupid math, bleh.

Bye bye.
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Tuesday, February 10, 2004

For your convenience.

I'd like anyone to post here if they'd like. Just some little feedback, nothing too big. Everything in there is rough, after all, heh.

I don't know if I'll post in here anymore. I'll probably just post on OB. But to allow me to post in my thread, I need people to post (nudge nudge). So if you want me to post stuff, post in there so I can post more stuff. Heh.

Or, if I get desperate enough, I'll post here.

Or, if you'd like it better, I can post my stories here as well. Take your pick--respond if you'd like that.

I might just end up doing it both ways.
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Monday, February 9, 2004

Mitch has been avoiding posting here about his life for many reasons. The main one being how Alex talked to me that one day (as far as I would want to admit it). I'm just being honest. So don't worry about it, Alex.

I feel tired right now. As if I'm just floating around. Everything is thin and without contour and shape and line. It's without form. I'm in some kind of Monday daze.

I'm telling myself to keep on things. To keep at them. And it's working.

You've noticed all the stories I've been posting. I've been making myself write each and every night, and I've decided I'll just be posting that here instead of blog entries of "my life" (more often than not, anyway) so I think that'll work fine.

I've become pretty non-existent on OB. I suppose it's going to be a lot like that. With the advent of v7, things are changing on there for me (but I can't mention it, because what stays in the staff lounge stays there till otherwise noted).

I bought Heart of Darkness yesterday. Along with Frankenstein, and also Silence of the Lambs. Currently I'm reading Michael Connelly's The Poet, and I'm halfway and more through it. It's 400-ish pages. It's good so far, great in some areas, but it's getting to the point where it's too drawn out for me. To the point where I want to book to stop being so muddled and slow and just get roaring. It should happen soon.

Getting my Geometry test back today didn't help at all.

Let me explain something.

In my Geometry class, the teacher, Mr. Kosse, always makes reference to a five-letter word he has stapled up above by his desk. Five letters. Just like there's five fingers on a hand if you count the thumb. Which I count the thumb.

Think. It says it in different colors for each letter.

Think. And I guess that's right. That's what the class is about. It's about thinking.

This Geometry class is harder than one I'd have, if, say, I was taking the class from a different teacher. I know this. And I tried to do this, too. I tried to get into Informal, but I couldn't. My schedule was locked because of Journalism.

Well, next year I'm not taking Journalism. I don't like it. It's boring and I've gotten crap stories each issue. I just like writing columns.

Anyway--back to Geometry. I got 66/100 on my test. 66/100. You know how bad that is? I wanted to just sit there and slap myself repeatedly as many times as I could. 66/100?

Oh. And here's a good thing too. I have 64.3 per cent in the class. That's 63.4%. That's a D. His grading scale goes 50, 60, 70, 80, 90. F, D, C, B, A.

I have a lot of work to do. I'm going to have to try my hardest.

Rather than look at this and give up, as I usually do, I'm going to apply myself harder.

Atticus Finch once said, which, incidently, is the voice of Harper Lee (since she speaks through him, it's her book). Atticus said courage is trying even though you know you're down and out. That's courage. Courage is doing something when you know you'll lose.

That's what I'll do. But I don't know if I'll lose. So it isn't courage, more or less, it's determination. Survival.

The bell just rang. I have to go.

Chemisty. Chemistry. What a fun class. I really did like last semester better.

I'm going to rise above this. I'm going to do it.
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The Lonely Whine

I don't think I like this story. It's unMitchish. But I'll post it...I mean, something is something. And there's about 5,000 words here, maybe a little less.

---

"The Lonely Whine"
1
A beer bottle rolled on black gravel. Its neck hit against a streetlight and stopped in a clang. The light now on it, its label became clear. It was a bottle of Coors. Through its glass was the remains of the beer. Little drops of beer here and there. A small collection at the bottom.

A sparrow swoops in and lands on the beer bottle's side. It huddles there. Wings to its sides.

Another comes down and lands on the bottle. The bottle begins to roll away with the sparrows' uneven weight. The sparrows cry in surprise and flutter on the ground, still below the streetlight. Up on the light of the streetlight moths swerve back and forth attracted. Some are large. Others are small. They look like flies buzzing on a dead body.

The sparrows sit on the ground. They gaze out.

In front of them is a parking lot. Vehicles sit parked about it. The sparrows seem to be watching one in particular.

An old, blue rust-covered van sits idle. Exhaust comes out of its exhaust pipe and rises to the air in plumes. Vague shadows can be seen rustling in the van's windows. A form rustling here. A form rustling there. The sparrows watch.

The van's lights are on, casting light on the brick wall of a building. The building is a bar named The Lonely Whine.

Inside The Lonely Whine solitary drinkers sit about on swivel chairs. Others sit on tables. Soothing country music plays, giving a relaxed feeling. The lighting is weak to further add atmosphere. The smell is of fresh brewed beer and cigarette smoke.

The bartender, Vic Lars, leans on his table speaking. He is a man in his thirties. He has short brown hair and inset blue eyes. The person he speaks to is a regular, Bobby Bush. Bobby has red hair and sits on a swivel chair. Bobby has a foaming mug of beer and sips it as Vic talks.

"Ya see, this town's dying. Has been for a long time, don't ya think?"

Bobby nods, setting down his mug. "I sure do," Bobby says.

A TV sits in the corner. Some look at it. Some seem to be filtering it out.

The news is on. A reporter who looks like she's wearing too much make-up talks. She's talking about the economy and how it's on the rise. Whatever she's saying flies past you. She's just wearing too much make-up. Harry Benson sits on a far table, far from the TV. His eyes are on the TV. All he can wonder is why such a pretty woman is wearing so much make-up. What would she look like without it? he wonders and takes a swig of beer. She would probably look beautiful.

The bar is quiet except for the chatter of the TV, and Vic and Bobby talking. Everyone else in the bar is either drinking smoking or speaking low.

Through the widows of The Lonely Whine is night. Not much can be seen other than from what the streetlights allow. All else is darkness.

Outside there is now more sparrows. And inside the van shadows have stopped dancing.

A man with black hair and sunglasses covering his eyes walks out. He steps into The Lonely Whine and the door closes behind him with a soft noise.

Vic notices him as he comes and sits close in a swivel chair.

"What'll it be?" he says coming over. The man isn't from around. Vic thinks he's just someone traveling. Vic notices how concentrated the man is. He looks like he's thinking. About what isn't for him to know.

"Just a Coors," the man says. His voice is deep and piercing and heavy. Vic goes over and fills a mug. It foams and he hands it to the man with the sunglasses. Vic turns away and starts talking to Bobby again. Inside the back of Vic's head he makes a note to keep a watch on this man. He doesn't know why. It's a gut feeling.

"Want another one, Bobby?" Vic says, putting his hand on the now empty mug's handle.

"Make it so Captain," Bobby says.

"And it is so." Vic takes the mug and fills it. When he turns he eyes the strange man with sunglasses. He's sitting and sipping his Coors. Why does he have a bad feeling? Vic doesn't know. He hands Bobby his third one that night.

"So how're things on your front, Bobby?" Vic asks. Bobby places his finger on the mug. The cold handle feels nice and numbing. He brings the cool beer to his mouth. Sets it down.

"They're doing themselves as well as they can, I think. Job's the same shit. Wife's doing dandy. Or as dandy as she can be." He lifts his mug half up. "Things're same as they always are." The beer goes to his mouth in a swig. Bobby sets it down again.

Vic nods. "I hear ya. Guess that's life, ain't it?"

"Guess it is."

"Yeah." It's silent. The only sound is the TV. There's now a commercial on about Shampoo. A lady's in the shower. But you can only see her face and her long black hair. Her face is pretty with a small nose. Water flows down it as she brushes her hair with shampoo and lets out noises of pleasure. It sounds like she's having an orgasm from shampoo.

Harry Benson is still watching the TV in his far corner.

Another man, Dexter Gale, is in his own corner, next to a window. He smokes cigarette after cigarette and slowly drinks his beer. The wisps of smoke hide his face. The eye of his cigarette glows red in the dim lighting as he takes in smoke.

It's always slow like this. Vic wonders how long it will keep going. How long until he won't be able to keep business any longer. Vic eyes Bobby's mug. It's empty again.

"Will it be another?" Vic asks. Vic can tell Bobby's getting drunk. It's usually after three or more he starts seeing it.

"The Pope a Catholic?" Yes, he sure is. So Vic gets another beer for Bobby.

"The Pope's just a figurehead," Vic says, setting it down.

"Yeah. All them people are just falling for it, too. Like a herd of bison or something."

Vic nods. "Yeah. I guess so."

Silence again. Vic busies himself with the TV. The news is over. There's the off-air sky cam on now. It's at an intersection of stoplights. A few cars are scuttling by. They look just as dead as everything else. Vic watches with no interest.

In the back Harry Benson is standing up. "I'm heading out, gotta get home. See ya'll later." He waits for Vic and Bobby's response.

"We'll see ya, Harry. Drive safe now. See ya when I see ya," says Vic.

"Hasta levista, baby," says Bobby.

"Oh, you know 'I'll be back.'" He says it like Arnold in Terminator. He ends up not sounding like him at all. But close enough. Close enough and off he goes.

The soft sound of the door closing. Then he's gone.

There's only three people left in the bar. It's time for him to act.

The man in the sunglasses stands abruptly up. A grin appears on his face. From his pant's belt he reveals a gun and pulls it out. He points it at Vic and then to Bobby and back to Vic again. "Don't even think of calling the police. And don't think of trying anything funny."

Bobby sits in his swivel chair with dull, intoxicated eyes. There's fear though. Tasty fear that the man in sunglasses eats up. Vic holds his hands in front of him. They're shaking. It's delicious. "You can have whatever you want! Just don't shoot me! I'll give you whatever you want—money, whatever! Just don't shoot!"

The man with the sunglasses pulls the trigger. Vic winces. And bang. The bullet flies out at breakneck speed and hits Vic in the temple. He's dead on impact. Blood ushers out from the wound. Vic topples over like a rag doll. "Okay. Just give me it all and I won't shoot," the man with the sunglasses says with a wider smirk, snickering. He eyes Bobby. "And what does Bobby say? Hm?" He laughs. It's not a nice laugh either. Not at all.

In his far corner Dexter Gale stands up and runs off in a rush. The man with the sunglasses turns to watch him. "That's right, be the little messenger. Tell them. Tell them and make them come." He turns back as he hears the soft closing of the door. He looks back at Bobby. "What do you say, Bobby?"

"I don't say anything, other than let me live. Let me live, and I'll do whatever you want." He didn't like this. Bobby's voice was too calm and held. He moved closer to Bobby, put the gun right against his head. That'll teach him. That'll teach him to hide it. There we go. There he goes, his face just screams fear now.

"We have a deal then, Bob?" A smirk. Wide and full of intention. He liked to see Bobby's fear. "I like deals. Deals are what spins the wheel. You better do just what I say though. Or else." He held the gun to his head and made a bang noise. "Do you know what I mean, Bobby?"

"I do. Now what is it I have to do?" The man with the sunglasses looks out the window. Then back to Bobby. He takes the gun from his forehead.

"Follow me, bucko. I got something to show you." The man with the glasses starts walking off. Bobby wobbles up and stupors over. He's half drunk and having trouble walking. "Better keep up. Don't want you to fall behind and the wheel to stop spinnin on the wrong place, do ya?"

"No," Bobby says. "I don't want that."

"Then you better get it together. God doesn't spin no dice, and neither do I. I'm not takin chances. You get over here and keep up with me or else it's bye-bye Bobby with a bang."

"Okay. I get you." Bobby made a conscious effort to keep up with the man. He was almost caught up.

"And don't try anything funny. You know what happens to funny people. And I don't have any patience for funny people. I'll put em out of their misery. I'll put them away." Bobby nodded and caught up just as the man was opening the door outside. He held his hand to catch the door but it slammed Bobby in the face. He winced in pain and pushed outside. Cool air touched him.

The man with the sunglasses opened the van's side door. Bobby approaches. The man grabs Bobby by his shirt and throws him in.

There's a woman inside. Her head is a big hole. It's been shot off. Mangled pieces of her black hair and brain matter are strewn about. Bobby utters a cry of disgust. The woman is naked. Prostrate in the van, her breasts contour out. They're full of scratches and bruises. Her hands are full of them too. Her whole body is. Her black pubic hair stands out in the meek light. He can see scratches there.

"What Bobby, you don't like?" the man with the sunglasses asks. "If you don't like, I can help you. I can make it go away." He holds the gun out. Points to it. "Is this what you want?"

"No," he managed. "No."

"Okay then. You quiet down now. Quiet down now or else."

Bobby is stricken with sudden hate for this man. "You bastard! You sick motherfucking bastard! Did you rape her before you did it? What the fuck did you do? You fucking bastard!"

"Tsk tsk tsk. Now that's no way to talk to me Bobby. Take it back now, or else."

Silence.

"Take it back, Bobby. Take it back or else it's bye-bye Bobby. Or else the wheel of deals stops spinning and it ends in a bang."

Silence.

"This is your last warning Bobby. This is the last time I'm going to ask. You better apologize. You better talk to me nice. Or else I'll do it. You know I will. I did it to her, I can do it to you. Now what do you say?"

A cry of disgust. "Fuck you!"

"Fuck you? Well, here's what I have to say to 'fuck you.'" He held the gun to his head. "I'm sorry to do this, Bobby. You were a good guy, you know. A good guy. Your wife's gonna miss you. She's not gonna like this. But here you are Bobby, bein selfish. I don't take well to selfish fuckers like you. I don't take well to people who tell me I'm a bastard. I don't take well to it." He pulls the trigger. It echoes. Then nothing. "Why Bobby? Why? Oh wait, I know why. Because you can't play by the rules. My rules. Well, the dead get movin and the livin get goin." He smiles. He likes the way his head had bled. He likes the way it had exploded at point blank range. It was beautiful. It was so beautiful. He smiles.

Then silence. Inside The Lonely Whine Vic lies slumped over behind his counter. He's dead. In the van the woman and Bobby lie down, bullets through their heads. They're dead.

Outside the beer bottle had rattled away. There were now a dozen sparrows propped. Most were concentrated near the faraway streetlight looking at the parking lot of The Lonely Whine. The sparrows were watching the van. They had heard the gunshots. They had watched it all. They were witnesses.

The van drove out in a rush. It went where it was going.

The sparrows followed in flutters.

2
They're bleeding. The gums of his teeth bleed slight as he peers close in the mirror. Below the somewhat yellow somewhat white teeth there's the gum line and it's red. Bleeding a bit. He eyes the red. So red. He goes out and puts his toothbrush back in his mouth. Brushes it around. The sound is just like a large brush with its thistles. The loud scrape-scrape of it. It feels digging in. Feels penetrated. Feels harsh and scraping.

He peers at his teeth again. Opens his mouth so he can see. They're still bleeding. He spits into the sink. Dull red saliva mixed with toothpaste comes out. He turns on the facet. Watches it go down the drain, down and away from him. It's gone. It's swirled down. But his teeth still bleed. He'll take care of that; he'll make it better.

He takes a paper cup from a cup dispenser. Fills it quick with water. Imbibes it to his mouth. Swishes and swashes it around. The water moves forceable around his teeth. He can imagine the water catching small particles. Can see them being washed with the water. The liquid feels good. It feels flowing. Moving. He spits it out hard. More dull red. But less. And on comes the facet. Bye goes the dull red water with whatever it carries.

Kneeling down he takes out the mouth wash from the cupboard. Non-alcoholic. He's got to stay away from alcohol. Doesn't mix well with him. He twists off the cap. Puts it upside-down and pours some mouthwash into it. Puts it in his mouth. Swish and swashes it around. Mint flavor. It burns a bit. Not like alcohol would. He pushes it with force all about his teeth. Swish swash. And spits it out hard. Even a more dull red this time. It's stopping. He turns on the water. Watches it spin down. Bye-bye.

It's done. He looks at his teeth in the mirror again. The gums are still red on their tips. It'll just take time. Take determination. He'll conquer it. He'll be the master. The dominator.

He closes his mouth, stares at his face a bit. Backs off from the mirror. Looks himself over.

His mouth strains in a pursing of pressure. His eyebrows V. His hands strain.

"Georgie, Georgie. What's this my friend? Did you see those teeth?"

His mouth unstrains. His eyebrows unV. His hands unstrain. He's just regular Georgie again. Kind and considerate.

"I'm sorry. What can I say? Haven't been taking too much care of me teeth, you know."

Now it's back to mean Georgie. V for an eyebrow. Strained jaw and mouth. This time his hands ball into tight fists. He beats them together.

"Oh Georgie. It's not just that—it's not just that. It's not that at all! You also haven't even bought your father his Father's Day card. You never do anything, Georgie. It's TV. TV. TV all the time, Georgie. It's always Star Trek and what the hell Captain Pickard's gonna do. It's all about you—it's all about you and the TV. Always. It's always about that fucker, isn't it, Georgie? Isn't it?"

Back to kind considerate kind Georgie.

"Yes. I guess so."

He sees himself strain in the mirror again. Watches his face contort. And listens again.

"You 'guess so'? Georgie, wake up! You know what I want you to do, my friend? You know what I'm gonna have you do?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna have you go out and get the Father's Day card right now. I'm gonna have you go there. Will you do that, Georgie? Will you do it for Christ's sake? Will you?"

"Yes. I'll do it."

"Will you? Or are you just saying that? I want you to do it. Do it now! You got me? You hear me? Do it now, Georgie. Do it for your daddy dearest."

"I'm not just saying it. I promise I'll do it. I'll even get him a present with the money I have since I was fired. I'll make it a good present."

"A good present? It better be. Your old man's not gonna last much longer. And that's another thing—getting fired. God, get another job! Are you just gonna sit on your ass all day? Get a goddamn job! Pick up an application when you go to the grocery store to get the card—I want you to do that. Will you do that, too, Georgie?"

"Okay. I will. I'd better get going."

His face tensed. But it was smiling now. And his hands came up to his shoulders and patted them. "All right then. But you better do it, Georgie. Or else it'll just be the same old same old, won't it? And you don't want that any longer, do you? You gotta get it together, don't you?" The hand left his shoulder.

"Yes. I've got to get going. Okay. I'm going now. See you later."

"Hasta luego Georgie."

Georgie waved back to the mirror. And walked away to his old car. He waved to his dad on the way out. "I'm going out, dad. Need anything at the store?"

His dad looked up. He was an old man. Gray hairs. Balding head. Going senile. "Naw, I ain't gonna need nonethin. Ye gonna be back soon, son? I ain't liken bein alone an such." His voice had that faraway wheeze to it.

"I shouldn't be long at all, dad. Just getting a few things. Here—I'll leave you my cell phone number before I go, so you can call me. In case you think of something, or are in trouble."

"Cello phone? When they maken that to an instrament? Mus be a weird contrapshen."

Georgie laughed a bit. "No, dad. A cell phone. It's a compact phone that's wireless. Can be used from most anywhere. Here—here's the number." He wrote it on the newspaper he'd grabbed lying by his dad's feet. "It's 624-1234. Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can. Call me if something's up."

"Aight. I callen ye on Jello Phone if anythang ain't goin good." Georgie smiled a bit. Cello Phone? Guess you can't fix what's already broken. He nodded and was off.

The car roared to life. It was some older model car. From '67 or even earlier. Georgie didn't know. He didn't care. Cars were what they were for to him. Not much else. They were just transportation.

Georgie was soon to the parking lot of the local Supermarket. It was a big bustling place. Most of the parking spots were taken. People kept walking all about. He stopped and yielded to many as he searched for a spot. The place was busy. Always seemed to be.

And there was a spot. It stood out to him—right next to a blue, rust-covered van. And a nice car that looked much more modern than Georgie's. He parked in between them, put his car in park. Turned off the engine. Got out.

It wasn't too cold out. There was a slight breeze as he walked into the supermarket. The sliding doors—motion-opened—slid open as he approached them and he was in. His mind kept going over what he was going to do. Kept going back to his tense face in the mirror. He knew what he was here for.

He was going to do it.

He walked through the isles. He skirted around people as they got in his way. He said "excuse me" when he needed to. Then there were the cards.

There were little tabs above set partitions of cards. They told you what kind of cards you could find. There was sympathy cards. Birthday cards. Get well cards. Marriage cards. He scanned. There it was. Father's Day. He looked at some of the cards.

The one he looked at first said, "When I think of my dad. . ." and beckoned you to open it. On the front there was an entirely absurd smile face. He opened it. "I think of love. And all the beauty my father's given." Then a few lines down. "Happy Father's Day. From your son." What a terrible card. He put it back. It wasn't Georgie at all.

"And what do we have here," Georgie said as he pulled out another card. He had seen half of the face of Barney the Dinosaur. It piqued his interest. So he took it. Barney's impressionate face took up most of the card's front. He had his big dinosaur grin. And was just as purple as always. On the top it said, "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY." Georgie opened it, a smirk on his face. "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family." It read in lines. Like a poem. It was another terrible card. Pretty tasteless. He put it back as if he were embarrassed. And maybe he was.

Then he found the card he wanted. He saw a pretty woman's face. It attracted his attention. He grabbed it out. It had a woman with long black hair and a picture-perfect smile. He teeth shown and were white. Below, you could see the woman's torso. She was wearing just a bra, but it was a concealing bra that didn't show much. On its top it said, "Dad, I didn't know what to get you." Then on the bottom, "So I got you something special." And after reading the message saying "I got you something special," looking at this woman's face and torso, it all made you just have to open up the card. Now that he looked at the woman's eyes he could tell they had some innocent pleading to them. It made you want to look inside even more. He opened it up. It was the same picture of the woman, but there was a black censoring box around her bra area. Georgie smiled a bit. It read, "I thought she'd look good in black. (Turn to back of card.)" He turned it over. There was nothing there but another message saying, "(Turn to front of card.)" It was genius in some way. At least some way. He took the card and an envelope.

The checkout line was long. Soon as Georgie got in line, another man did. He had sunglasses on concealing his eyes. He held his purchases in one of those red baskets. Georgie only looked once at him then turned back and waited.

The line moved slow. But all the same Georgie was soon paying for his card. The beep of the card being rang up resounded. "$1.25," the cashier said like a machine. As if she knew the price was going to be $1.25 and she didn't even need to ring it up.

Georgie took out his wallet, handing her exact change. Then, "Can I get an application too? That'd be nice."

"Oh," said Ms. Machine Cashier. "I'll go get one."

"Okay."

She rustled away like leaves. Then she was back. "Here it is." She handed it to him.

He looked at her nametag. Her name was Nazerie. What a cute name. "Thanks, Nazerie."

She gave him a weird eye. He walked off.

Outside the breeze was still light. He came to his car—beside the blue rust-covered van and the car. For some reason he looked in the van. He didn't know why.

What he saw in the car he never wanted to see. As soon as he saw it he got the hell out of there. That was bad. He didn't believe what he saw. He couldn't have seen that.

But he did.

He did. And it was all he could think about as he drove home.
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