Saturday, January 17, 2009

"I miss my comic books. I left the last of them behind the last time I ran away."

"Ran away? From what?"

"From life."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"Not so good. The next day, when I woke up in my new apartment, a few blocks away. There life was. Lying there in bed with me. Facing me with that inane grin on his face. 'Mornin' sunshine!' he exclaims to me, 'What are we going to do today?' he asks. I say, 'Why are you asking me for? You're life, motherfucker. You ought to know.' Life was like that. Never even missed a step. Just kept right up with me. That's how I ended up here.

Monday, January 5, 2009

happy new year

"I hate dieting. It's so hard. I really resent people who do not diet. Either because they don't care how they look or because they have great genes and are fabulous and don't need to diet."


"I hate dieting. It's so hard. I really resent people who do not diet. Either because they don't care how they look or because they have great genes and are fabulous and don't need to diet."

"Oh my god."

"I know. Right? I used to be really beautiful without exerting any effort at all. I just woke up and was fabulous."

"What happened?"

"Fuck you. you're supposed to say, 'no dear, you're still fabulous' and I'm supposed to say shucks and blush. Then you buy me a drink and we talk and talk and eventually go home together and you love my apartment and my dog and my papier mache curiosities and we have great sex and then, tomorrow morning I make a gourmet breakfast and we talk some more and you can't stop thinking about me for weeks and weeks and when you finally call me, one month later, I can't remember who you are."

"Then I remind you and you lean against the wall and twirl the phone cord on your fingers and giggle a little.

"What's a phone cord?"

"Never mind."

" I look fabulous?"

"You're okay. I guess."


"No, you're okay. Buy you a drink?"

"I really was once beautiful."

"I'm sure you were. Drink?"

"I'll have a gin and white wine."


"A gin and white wine for the once beautiful, once fabolous, once elegant and once young me.

"You mean fabulous?"

"What did I say?"


"Then that's what I meant. I meant it with a Spanish flair. It's not nice to point out mispronunciations. Order the drink."

"I already did."

"How dare you refer to me as "okay".

"I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. When are we going home?"

"I haven't even gotten your name yet."

"I'm not sure that's gammatically sound, what you just said."

"How would you correct it?"

"Oh god, I haven't the faintest idea."

"Well anyway. I don't know your name."

"A man once shoved a swizzle stick up into my penis."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"A man once shoved a swizzle stick up into my penis."

"What's a swizzle stick?"

"Never mind."

"You can't do that. I think I know what that is. Is that what people stirred cocktails with in the olden days?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What the fuck? You brought it up. It's one of those novelty drink stirring things isn't it?"


"Why in the hell would you let somebody stick something like that up your dick?"

"Don't judge me. You don't even know my name."

"Wow. Dude."

"I know."

"So how'd it happen?"

"I'm not really sure. I was asleep. I was having this dream. Like, you know, when you have this dream you gotta piss real bad? And, finally, you wake up and you've really got to piss? Well, I was having this dream that somebody was shoving a swizzle stick up into my penis and, finally, I woke up, and somebody was shoving a swizzle stick up into my penis."

"Holy shit!"

"I know. Right?"

"Then what happened?"

"I pulled it out."

"And then?"

"I fell back asleep and started having the exact same dream. I woke up and, sure enough, the dude is doing it again. So, I yanked it out and yelled at him. Asked him what the fuck he was doing shoving a swizzle stick up into my penis. Oh god, it was one of those long, square shaped ones with a chesspiece on the top, green plastic. So tacky"

"Oh my god! Holy shit! What did the dude say?"

"He said something about I shouldn't have passed out and how he needed me to fuck him right then or I needed to leave and I told him I couldn't get my dick hard and I was gonna call up the cops or burn his drapes unless he drove me home and where the hell were my fucking clothes. Well he handed me some old torn panty hose and a clutch purse. I looked at them and said what the fuck is this and he told me that's how he'd picked me up. It was then that I realized I had no idea how I'd come to be there and that I'd never lain eyes on this man before in my memory. Turns out, he had picked me up at this very bar. Bought me several drinks, took me home and shoved a swizzle stick up into my penis."


"I looked into the clutch and found my driver license and house key and asked him if I had shoes. He informed me I did not. He grudgingly drove me from the west side of town to my house. Once in the car, of course, I was very polite and quiet. I did not want to be put out on highway 59 with nothing but a torn pair of panty hose and a clutch purse. But when we neared my house I asked him why he did it. He told me I was making a big deal out of it, that I should just chill, that I was being a pussy. I told him that it really hurt and he shouldn't have done it without asking first. He was so completely an asshole about the whole thing. When we stopped in front of my house, I thanked him for the ride, hit him on his right cheekbone as hard as I could with my left fist, grabbed my clutch purse and got out of the car."

"Well, it's been nice talking to you. Good luck with your diet."

"Thanks for the drink."

"Don't mention it."

"Still want to know my name?"

"Not really."

"Well, thanks for the drink anyways."

"Yeah, I'm gonna go sit over there for a while now."