Sunday, July 31, 2005

Old Woman with Scarf and Earrings

Doug's Story
"No, no, no," Jonquil explained, "it should be over here between your molars...yes, yes, very good, does it feel soft and supple? Does it taste like meat or vegetable? With the tip of your tongue, dear...ah, yes that's nice...meat or vegetable, dear? Ah, spinach, wonderful, old does it seem? Still green? Oh, you can tell because it loses it's flavor for awhile then takes on the taste of your mouth. Can't taste it? Probably three days then. That's all I need dear, you'll live into your sixties, marry a wealthy insurance broker at 28 and will adopt one child."

Mushroom's Story
Grandma Conchetti couldn't eat carrots without a bit of them sliding up the back stairs of the breathing passage. Carrots were the only food she had this trouble with, and she never understood why it happened to her. Her brothers taught her how to remedy the problem, back when she was a preteen in Sicely, and two generations later a snort and a hock still drew the offending veggies back down her gullet like they always had. Family dinners were always great at Grandma's house -- and, for some eaters, truncated affairs once the appetite was lost when she'd have to do her manoeuver. Her children and grandchildren had asked why she doesn't just leave the raw or gently cooked carrots out of her dishes, and she'd say with a snap "because they are good for the eyes, bimbini!" Not only did she have good eyesight, she seldom had competition for dessert.

[This is based on a true story... I have that exact problem with raw carrots. What, am I inhaling while I'm chewing?]

Jamie Dawn's Story
I'm Pat and I'm a pirate wench. I've sailed the angry seas for over 65 years now in search of fine booty. Well, no fine booty could be found and I had to settle for my wimpy husband, Johnny.
(Insert Phyllis Diller laugh here.)
Now, seriously, whenever a drunken scoundrel would try and have his way with me, I'd give him this face here, and the rotten vermin would scurry away like a scared mouse.
But, not Johnny, no.
He never gave up, or ran away, and he pillaged and plundered the heck outta me. It was afterwards that I found out he was blind. (Insert laugh again.)

Sue Donim's Story
It was the worst orgasm in the history of the Universe.

Michael's Story
Janet's grandson Gerald loved playing in the dirt. He would move dirt with his yellow bulldozer. Making roads for all his toy trucks and cars. Janet watched him all morning until just before lunch.

"Gerald its time to go in for a bath before we eat"

"Bath!?" Gerald spit at her. "I don't need a bath"

As he looked at her he couldn't help make such ugly faces at her. He spent quite a few minutes perfecting the perfect look.

Janet didn't know whether to play along or laugh at him. He was such a dramatic child.

After Gerald got the look down he spat at her, "What's for lunch?"

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup"

"Eeewww" another grimace formed making it hard to resist.

Janet clenched her jaws and wrinkled her nose in her best impression of Gerald's expression.
Gerald was startled as he looked up at her but then fell into a laughing fit as he rolled in the dirt.

Janet reached down and tickled him making him laugh even more.

"Let's go eat"

My Story
Madame Bonair, great grandmother of the gypsies, wandered around her apartment berating her dearly departed spouse. There was no escape for him, not even in death. The idea! Thinking he could simply pass away and spend the rest of eternity haunting a strip bar or hovering around street corners, peering down women's tops. If he was going to see any skin in the afterlife, it would be hers, or her name wasn't Madame Bonair, which it was. So that settled it. The poor disembodied spirit had to accompany his sharp-tongued wife everywhere, even to the tedious séances she held. If only some visitors from beyond would pop in to hang out with him. But that never happened. Her spiritist sittings were such a sham it made his protoplasmic blood boil, all the while wishing vehemently that he could evaporate. He observed his wife at the hocus pocus, the crystal ball she stroked so mysteriously, seeing nothing but a distortion of her own gnarly reflection; and that annoying, nasally-pitched voice spewing forth in her phony trance, the same voice that had nagged him all those years of his life and past his deceasement. Enough was enough! It made him so furious he'd lift up the table and hurl it across the room. But even in death he couldn't win. All that he achieved was a generous tip for Madame Bonair and an increase in her reputation as a mistress of mysticism.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Girl with Magic Wand

Mushroom's Story
He had hoped and prayed upon a midnight star that one day she'd come, and then through fuzzy eyes she appeared to him... the Unreality Fairy materialized in his room, just as he'd envisioned her, wearing a black bra under a white camisole and holding her wand seductively between her parted lips. He knew what he wanted to wish for, and had known since he was eleven. He spoke his wish and with a wink that could make a stone golum bleed she leaned forward, wagged her wand once quickly, and as as quickly whisked back into the ether. His longstanding fantasy had been granted... his heart's deepest wish fulfilled, and he relaxed in his gratification.

How he was going to get that Jeep CJ7 out of his apartment would be another story.

Jamie Dawn's Story
She dressed up each Saturday in her Wish Fairy costume and visited the Children's ward. The sick kids would tell her their secrets and desires. She always cheered them up.
She rounded the corner on her way out, and there he was. It was a private room, but the door was wide open. Orlando Bloom was lying there asleep, or unconscious, she couldn't tell which.
Suddenly, gently, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. It was love at first sight for both of them.
"Wake up, Linda!" her mom yelled.
"Time to get ready to visit the kids at the hospital."

Cyanotica's Story
Whatever she had done to deserve the latest woeful chain of events she was sorry, she thought as she touched the magic wand to her lips. The aroma of mothballs and cotton candy wafted up to her nostrils, as she contemplated the happier occasions on which this part of her childhood Halloween costume was used. That seemed like another person's life now, totally removed from the sadness and desparation she was currently experiencing.

They found her mother hanging from a basement rafter, blue and lifeless, eyes fixed on blank eternity. The RA of her dorm had knocked on her door with the news at 3:00am, and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, before her schoolmate could even open her mouth, she knew. After all, good news never comes at that hour, and Mom had been sick for a while now. Ironically, the psychiatrist had recently assured her and her dad that the increased dosage of anti-depressents would be enough to mitigate the effects of a particularly difficult menopause, but all that meant nothing now. For as long as she could remember, she had seen the glint of pain and terminality in her mother's eyes, and for that reason, she distanced herself from the one person who probably understood her best.

Outside, she heard the rumble of the moving van pulling up in the driveway, and knew that soon, a very long road was about to end, and a very lonely one was about to begin.

My Story
Harvey clicked the send button, dissolving his e-mail into a flux of electrical impulses that zapped through the hubs connecting the World Wide Web with God knows what. But he really wanted those love pills. Seconds later the doorbell rang.

"I'm the Spam Fairy," the girl at the door said, but she didn't smile and gaily wave her wand about like those fairys he'd seen in Disney movies. She looked at him with those big, consternated eyes of hers and waited for him to tell her what he wanted.

"Is something wrong?" Harvey asked her, sensing that this was his big chance, showing sympathy to a fairy, maybe even doing her a good deed. No telling how she might repay him. She might even be willing to grant some especially personal wishes.

Tears welled in her eyes, "It's so awful in our world," she cried, "Streets paved with college degrees, mortgage money raining from the skies, hailstorms of little blue pills." She leaned her head on his shoulder while her shoulders bobbed up and down accompanying her stifled sobs. "And the diat supplements, the cheap real estate everywhere..."

She looked up again and showed him the tears running down her cheeks, "And those pick-up bars filled with girls yearning for Christian dates. They're so shameless! We're working round the clock, sending e-mails trying to find someone to take all these abominations off our hands."

Harvey looked into her eyes and stated with all the sincerity he could muster, "I wish I could help you."

"Do you, really?" she asked him, eyes sparkling with magic. Harvey nodded. The Spam Fairy waved her wand. The next thing Harvey knew he was in a room filled with PCs, and at each PC was huddled some wretched person, moving a mouse and typing in e-mails with shaky fingers. A burly sumo wrestler with sweaty muscles and a whip strolled gaily about the room, randomly lashing the stooped figures. "Type faster! Get that spam out! Longer! Harder! All night long! You!" he bellowed grabbing Harvey by the arm and accelerating him into a hard, empty seat. "What do you think this is? Disneyland?!? Get to work!"

Friday, July 01, 2005

Man Diving into Pool with Inflatable Whales

Weirsdo's Story
"Will ya look at that dive, son! They really can learn! Just push that blue float over to him when he comes up. They're smart, all right, and very sociable. Why, today, when I put him in the water, he almost sounded as if he was cursing me!" Orc chuckled. "We are gonna make so much money offa this. We just have to work on his form a little."
"Yeah, but Dad," said his son, watching as the meager human desperately pulled himself onto the rubber float, "Are you sure we're feeding him right? He looks thin."
"Blew his lungs up myself, first thing this morning, son. You leave everything to your old dad. We'll just keep giving him good wholesome fresh air, and he'll be right as rain in a day or two."

My Story
Orca: There he goes, diving into the pool again.
Orco: What a show off! Evolving from a beach ball into a human.
Orca: Your brain's a beach ball if you believe that evolution nonsense. Everyone knows the Great White Whale created us by breathing dust into our inflatable forms.
Orco: Sure, but still, there he is, coming and going as he pleases. And all we do is float aimlessly in the water.
Orca: But it's a great life, isn't it?
Orco: I don't know. Sometimes I'd just like to swim across the pool to the other side, to be in the sun. Or sometimes, if the sun is hot, I'd like to swim into the shade. But we can't move!
Orca: There's more to life than just moving around.
Orco: Well, I wish he'd stop moving.
Orca: Basically, he's nothing more than a bacterial conglomerate. If they'd only put a little more chlorine in the water, he'd go back to being a beach ball.

Couple Dancing in Living Room

Michael's Story
Grace and Mosely were walking down the driveway to their home. Both had worked a long day and the refuge of their habitat was calling loudly. Before they reached the door Grace blurted out, "I think I'm pregnant". A wild look appeared on Mosely's face and he had trouble forming the word, "How?" "No, I don't mean how "how", I mean I thought you were on the pill". Grace stopped walking just before the steps of their home, slunk to the ground as the tears burst in floods. "I am…, I don't know… It's not one hundred per cent…" The words barely audible between sobs. Mosely slunk to the ground next to Grace and put her arm around her. "It's OK. I know we talked about careers first but we can do this." They sat there on the ground and absorbed the quiet. Finally as if in agreement they both got up and walked through their front door. Grace cried a few more tears and said, "I'm not ready for this". Knowing she really didn't want an answer, Mosely simply held her.
Grace had purchased a pregnancy kit and the next morning followed the instructions biting her lips as they waited the results.

"It's negative" Grace announced still biting her lips.

Mosely pulled her to his arms and said, "I'm sorry"

"I am too"

Alice's Story
The trip was a long one. If things had turned out differently for him they would not be here. If that manuscript had been accepted, as he was assured it would be, he would have been able to pay off his bills and he would have been able to help send her back to college and buy her a house without having to do what was ultimately done. He never meant to take the money for good. He was going to pay it back; it was just that the bills kept coming and there was so much he wanted to give her and he could not give her anything without money. The city had taken everything away from him. It had taken his money and it zapped his creativity. In the long run, this place in the woods would be the best place for him. He had no choice now; it was this house or jail.

When the phone call came he was prepared and he expected to leave alone for the house in the mountains far away. She would be better off without hi; He wasn't a writer, he wasn't a provider, he was nothing. He told her though, she needed to know where he was and she needed to be able to move on.
She insisted on going with him. She didn't care about any of it. She didn't want money, she didn't care about going back to college she didn't even care about a stupid house.

It turns out she only cared about him.

They made it to the house around dusk.
He felt a calmness he had not felt in a long time.
He embraced her, for the first time understanding things that he wished he could have understood a long time ago.

Mushroom's Story
Tom had pledged that he would wait for Jeanne until his dying day. He knew that someday she would relent, she would change her mind, she was consent to spending one night in his arms. He wasn't stalking her, he knew that would drive her further away than she already was from him. Their paths crossed enough in their normal lives at college that he knew how she was doing and she knew that he wasn't giving up hope. If there were a reason for concern, their mutual friends would have sounded the alarm. Even within those boundaries and her (and their friends) saying anywhere from softly to sarcastically that she wasn't going to give him more than being a buddy, he still held onto the spark of belief that she'd be in his arms some sweet day.

Tom and a couple of dorm friends decided they wanted to go get some coffee on Sunday morning, hoping to shake the ringing in their heads from the party they'd had the night before, and went by Jeanne's room to roust her -- she'd been the belle of the ball and they figured she needed a little caffiene more than the others. She didn't answer the door, which made them a little concerned, so Tom used his driver's license to open the lock. (This was a skill he swore to the others he only used for good, not evil.) Jeanne was laying on the couch, looking like she was in peaceful slumber, but no amount of shaking or prodding was making her open her eyes. The other two ran out of the room to get the RA while Tom stayed with her. He turned on the stereo, and a Tom Petty song was playing.

Two minutes later when the two returned with help (and a slowly growing crowd of students was welling at the doorway, having been been made curious by the frantic dash those two had made and the staunch steps of the RA coming back down the hall with them), this is what they saw. People stood stunned, not knowing what to say or do but watch. It was only by her alcohol poisoning that Tom got his wish... Jeanne was at last in his arms, without objection, and he carried her in a final parting dance.

Tan Lucy Pez's Story
Tom and his new girlfriend, whom he had nicknamed Icy, were just playing around. Tom never meant to use real superglue when he was caressing her.

He just wanted her to stick around for a while...

Mme Janning's Story
The fireplace seemed the only warm element in the house. But it was too far to be seen, to be felt. And, although it was raining outside de house, inside it was pouring but nothing could give the slightest sign about it.

"I wish I had not left that note to her in the afternoon. What is she going to think? Will she understand my words differently? I wish I could see right now those deep eyes, those lucious lips kissing my skin like anyone but she does. I wish... God how much I wish she was with me right now! I hope Monday she will understand, I don't want to loose her. God, give me strenght to tell this woman that it's over."

The rain, heavy rain melting with concealed tears...

"My love, are you thinking of me right now? Are you thinking of me? This birthday is killing me... He was so happy about it. I wish he forgot about his birthday for a day in his lifetime! I am sick of this situation. And I know, I know I must tell him, to put an end to these boring weekends in the countryside. My love, I will try to tell him tonight, no, tomorrow, after the birthday, that it's over. I love you. I love you"


"Happy Birthday, John,Happy Birthday!"
"Thank you dear, I love the pajama!"

Weirsdo's Story
"See, honey? It's just like it was when we went to bed. You just had a bad dream." Joanna wrapped her arms round him, but Dale was not entirely soothed. It felt too much like the tentacles in the dream--or whatever it was.
Besides, was it his imagination, or was that ivy trailing a good six inches longer than it had been last night? He was just about to dismiss this notion as fantasy, when he caught sight of the contents of the wastebasket and froze.

My Story
Dora had a doll house that was realistic in all its suburban ranch house detail, down to the bric-a-brac on the living room mantel and the television remote control. She placed a couple of dolls inside, leaving them to germinate with each other. They started dancing. You could look in through the open wall and watch the dolls whirl and glide within their confines. Dora started inviting her friends over to peek into the dolls' mock-up world and watch the interaction. More and more people came to watch. Word got around. Both Time Magazine and the National Enquirer did a feature on "The Dancing Dolls." Camera crews filmed them and doll psychologists toured talk shows speculating on the sublimated passions of the dance as ersatz. Whatever it was, the dolls swirled through the living room, lost in shared motion. There was nothing else the boy doll and girl doll could do. The door to the bedroom was stuck, and the remote control did not activate the television.