GRAW GRAW GRAW laughed the long toothed man. what a hilarious situation we’ve found ourselves in! stuck in a river without a raft, when we own a perfectly good raft store!!!
bloe bloo bloo giggled his wife. it sure is a nice conversation we’re having underwater here, alongside the tress in the cold and stark woods, the dense forest.
rim..o…bah….rimo…bah…r… the man froze and turned to his wife. we do we make these noises when we find humor dear wife? always different and increasingly hard to spell sounds. why must we confuse each other. if someone were to write a story about us, how on earth would they even consider spelling what we’re doing? it must be so hard to be a recorder of information if the information is spelled worse than garbage! and i’m not using garbage as an adjective there, i mean it as a noun. like the word garbage ends is a french sound GGG sound like in garage. wait no it doesn’t. wtf is up with garage though, at least that one is weird. but it’s not as funny if i say it’s hard to record information if it’s spelled worse than garage. no one would understand that for Shirley.
So, my dear wife. I have a proposable proposal (just spelled proposal wrong the first time and went with it). let’s laugh like this: “I love mister longtooth, I love mister longtooth”. That seems like it could be shortened sweetie. Quite a bit to digest during one of those outrages fits of laughter we’re prone to HAHA HAving.
I agree he said. What would you prefer?
The wife replies: If it’s going to be so long, why not just make it something generally accepted, like “Have a nice day! Have a nice day!”
Still seems too long he pondered…What about HAVE A NICE! HAVE A NICE!
I don’t know, it’s quite a burden yet my large stack pancake eater.
As the husband watched the wife begin to sink in her newly pressed raft store logo embroidered woman’s 100% cotton pre-shrunk polo tee he realized the urgency of their decision. For she would soon be wet, but this time FOREVER. He outed his idea: Have A! Have A! Her mouth gurgled! she was almost under water now! She attempted to yell her correction as HAVE! But due to the water rising to her mouth, all she could release was HA! HA! She was destroyed and laughter was decided right then and there. For this, my friends, was adam and eve probably.
“who is gomer pyle, and what has he done with real names?” The above is a quote from this story. I control what is quotable as I write my own future. It doesn’t appear anywhere else in this story, just that spot. It is quoting itself. And I am telling my own story. They go hand in hand. I like to walk around her house in the dark, while she sleeps. I like to feel that she’s protected. I’m comforted that someone is protecting her. Of course, since it’s me, it’s less convenient than if it were you, but the task is being done nonetheless. Sometimes she even walks with me, around her house. We walk, we talk, we really connect. Of course, she’s helping me in protecting herself, though she is not even inside the house anymore and she is the same person which she is helping me to protect. It’s hard to say whether she’s protecting herself or leaving herself overly exposed. Who’s to say she shouldn’t be protecting herself from me? I don’t feel I’m qualified to be known as a completely safe agent of love, though that’s what I feel I am. I wouldn’t want her to be hanging around with other people like me because I don’t know for sure that they’re exactly like me. She’ll keep to herself most of the time. I’ll take pictures of the cloud’s shadows on her house during the daytime. At night I’ll take pictures through the windows of the street light reflections shining off of her bathroom mirrors. One night I decided I’d had it. Her house was in an inconvenient neighborhood for me to keep visiting every night, and what’s worse is that it wasn’t the safest neighborhood of all time either. It had cars backfiring, kids skinning their knees, dogs barking, tree branches that would seem to fall right out of nowhere, and unjustifiably hot asphalt that would burn my bare feet in the summertime. Right then and there I let my camera hang loose around my neck and decided to move her house. I began to drill. I drilled holes in the side of the house, right into the plumbing. I connected long solid tubes into the pipes and wrapped them around the the front driveway. I fashioned handles at the end of the pipes, and off we went! The house was my wheel barrow, as she slept. I felt more like a brother than any type of romantic figure. It just felt important to protect her, because I had known her long enough that I had a strong emotional connection to her existence as a whole, whether we agreed on the best sports teams or not. The house and I were rolling down the street. About 2 am. I put all the weight on my right arm now and again, and used my left arm to take nice pictures of her now old neighborhood as we made out way out. It’s quite difficult to aim and shoot a camera with your left hand, especially while towing a house. What would be the right place for her to be? I knew I’d figure it out. But I did have to watch out for police. While I knew I wasn’t wrong about this, I know that it might be misconstrued as illegal. While I don’t technically have the authority to administer a move, I do feel confident that my motivation is pure and my intention complete. So on we go. At one point, just toward the bottom of the hill leaving her neighborhood, she awoke. “I’m here to help you” she said. You can keep taking pictures while I get the other handle. It made me realize that I wasn’t alone in my often misconstrued intention, and the third party credibility really gave me the boost I needed. I pointed the camera at her. It was the first time I’d ever photographed a person. And it was the best picture I’d ever taken.
may 22
just had sex for the first time. OMG. andrew was so sweet. at first it felt like i was getting a rash or something, before he even started touching me. it was like my body knew what was about to happen. i just finished my period so i knew it was a safe time. but it felt weird cuz he had been talking about breaking up just a few hours before. i think he really loves me though and he was just scared. or he didn’t think i loved him. well i do, and now he knows!!!!
may 25
ughh that asshole hasn’t talked to me since that day! i’m going to make a tv dinner.
may 27
well HE didn’t call me but his bff rick called. he says “andrew has been busy”. i dont know what he was so busy with, we’re in high school.
may 28
i went to andrew’s house today, and guess what he was doing? hanging out with his ex-gf of course. jamie, or jammie or something stupid like that? i know she knows about me, i look at her profile all the time.
june 5
well andrew and “PJ” aka jammie are together officially now. and i am no longer a virgin, and just waiting to die. i wonder how long i have to wait. fuck my life. i wish my dad would stop snoring. sell me some pot please.
june 8
hello hello hello this is jammie hello trying to guess the computer password but the screen is not turning on hello password password turn on computer!!!!
june 9
well i got assigned to jammie as my math partner….she came over yesterday, and i hate to say it but she’s actually kind of cool. i wonder what she sees in that dipshit.
june 10
jammie is here and we are talking so much shit and i just made some amazing lemonade!
june 14
i…..just had sex with a girl. i don’t know what to say. i don’t think it hasn’t even been a month since i lost my virginity to a boy.
june 15
i just found out jammie is going to be my math partner for ALL of summer school. this is going to be so much fun!
june 18
i think i’m in love with a girl….
june 20
andrew and jammie officially broke up. she is coming over tonight to meet my parents. i wonder if they’ll like her.
june 20 entry #2
ummm apparently my parents assumed i’ve always been a lesbian? they knew before i did? wtf?
june 21
andrew left flowers at my door. there wasn’t a name, but i know it wasn’t jammie because she has cello practice tonight.
june 22
andrew wrote me a note saying he’s sorry and he’s freaked out…maybe i should give him another chance. he’s always been soooooo nice to me and i dont know if i should trust him or not. i would want him to take me back if i’d made a mistake, so maybe it’s the right thing to do. i wonder what jammie will think.
june 22 entry #2
OMG jammie and andrew are both here and they’re kind of touching on my bed
june 22 entry #3
jammie and andrew and i need to go get two morning after pills. is there an age limit? my parents can NOT find out about this.
june 25
i think jammie and andrew are together again. i never got the morning after pill because it was so expensive at the only place that doesn’t call your parents. i’m scared.
june 29
today andrew came over and i gave him head and then later after he left jammie gave over and i gave her head and then she started to scream and my mom heard her and walked in on us and my face was a mess and i feel like i’m about to die.
july 3
andrew and jammie and i are going on a date for the 4th of july tomorrow. i hope he took a shower this time because i think if i give him head a couple more times he won’t ever stop calling me again.
july 4
we are leaving to go to the park and jammie was smart enough to bring condoms this time.
july 4 entry #2
i don’t know what i was thinking….i was giving andrew head like i normally do, and jammie took her pants off. she started to rub her clit on the back of my neck, and when andrew came i turned around and spit it inside of her as hard as i could. she thought it felt really good and i don’t know if she knows what i did.
july 10
i gave andrew head today and jammie came over after he left. i told her what i’d done, and that she should get checked for pregnancy. she said she thought it would be a bad idea if we kept seeing each other. i was really sad but i understood. i gave her head and when she went home i cried.
july 25
andrew and jammie are having the baby. everyone thinks they had sex. they are officially together now and neither of them call me, except for andrew who comes over for literally 15 minutes at a time just so i can give him head. but he doesn’t even talk to me.
august 8
jammie came over yesterday and we had a long talk. it was really good to see her. it seems like she’s going to be one of those lifelong friends. she wasn’t doing very well in math and i always get better grades than her, so today when i finished my math test i switched with her.
august 10
thanks to our switch i got a B and jammie got a C and she was sort of annoyed but understood what i was going for.
august 15
andrew called me to tell me what’s been going on. he says jammie is really bad at giving head so he doesn’t know if he can be with her and i told him i understood. but secretly i was glad because i want her to myself. andrew will probably come over after school tomorrow but i’m going to pretend like i’m not home because my jaw gets so tired because i think he’s getting immune to my blowjobs.
august 20
i woke up in the middle of night when i heard a noise and i looked out the window and andrew and jammie were having sex on my lawn.
august 22
yesterday jammie knocked on my window in the middle of the night and she took me by the hand and we had sex on andrew’s lawn. two hours later andrew knocked on my window and he took me to school to have sex on the basketball court but he fell asleep in the car when we were waiting for the security guard to leave. he decided to just drop me off at home. he didn’t even want me to give him head this time.
august 25
i just found out i’m moving at the end of the week. my parents are upset with me and sending me to live with my older brother in california. i dont know how to tell jammie.
august 27
i am leaving tomorrow. jammie hasn’t been at school and isn’t answering the phone. i just wanted to ask her if she loved me.
august 27 entry #2
jammie came over to say she doesn’t want the baby anymore and that she’ll never forget me. i gave her goodbye head and got her address so i could send her letters. i’ll really never forget her.
I’ll conquer you! I’ll tame you! The man shouted into the ocean. He puffed out his chest and laughed with delight. How fun is this? I’m making my mark. I’m coaxing the rare love out of the sea. Get on your knees, sea! Get down and beg me! The sea listened to the screaming, and wished it could understand. But he sea was just a ocean. And the ocean a sea. It was affected by the wind, and the moon, and the shape of the earth. There was no resistance and no motivation. All it could do was be a sea, a vast icean. Yet, the man continued to yell. You rotten bitch! You want to see me dead! You stole the life of my friend, and I know you want mine as well! The sea wanted no such thing. It was calm at heart. It loved its jellyfish and its coral. No one loves coral as much as the sea. The ocean used its sea water to stroke the rocks all around the world, smoothing them for the benefit of everyone. Hoping to see the smiles of children as their feet were saved from pain, and cooled by its tides. But the man had a fear. He imagined the sea reaching for the children. Trying to lure them into its depths, and he hoped to one day teach the children to have the same fear. No one would be the wiser as he spread the word of the deep wet danger lurking below. The ill mannered water beast – the ancient body. Carnivorous ocean, radical sea. The man intended to love it by means of conquer. By means of taming rather than understanding. The sea wanted the man to love him, and at the same time cherished the attention, and was confounded by the aggression. It tried a few ways to engage amicably. The ocean would lap up some extra soluble sea water onto the man’s boat. To lend a hand in the cleaning process. But the man sneered and said he had plenty of water, because it was literally all around him. The sea was ashamed. It wished it had given a better gift. The man thought about it, and realized that the gift was a gift, and apologized. The sea swelled up and down as a response. Tension only grew, as neither could tell what the other was really thinking. “Sea” he said, I’ve always been unsure of you, and I’m sure you can understand how a gift of water can look quite similar to the same deep and dangerous water that I fear. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding. The sea, now hurt by the man’s original intentions, ignored his apology, Sea! He cried. I would have accepted your gift delightfully if I’d known how much it had meant to you! The man and the sea were both lonely, and wanted each other to be happy, but neither wanted to be the first to come out and say it. The man gave up on his apologies, and the sea began gifting its waters to the boats of other men. Other men began to talk about the vast ocean, the undeniable beauty of the sea, and the word spread. When the man found out that the sea had become so well known, he was terrified. He wanted to get as far away from anyone mentioning the great sea – and as quickly as possible too. Where will I sail my boat? Who will I talk to? How can I live? The man began searching around. He tried sailing in lakes, ponds, rivers, even a small pool, but nothing felt like the sea. The sea offered its waters to students, zoologists, gynecologists, and geologists, but none had the passion of the man. The first man. It was a true case of having grown to respect each other without completely understanding one another. The man reached out once again, finally. I’m sorry, he said. The sea didn’t hear him, because it was in the midst of a small storm surrounding a sailboat race. “Sea?” asked the man. “Sea, is that you having the time of your life at the sailboat race?” The sea still didn’t respond because his attention was so tied up, that he was afraid he would give a short and meaningless answer if he were to respond at all. “Sea, goodbye.” The man went into hiding. After the storm, the sea looked for him. He looked in caves, beach houses, marinas, but had no luck. The man missed the sea and the sea missed the man, but both were dumbfounded with how the other had treated them. Both of them wanted another chance but neither were willing to give the other that same benefit. The man stayed dry and the sea stayed a wet ocean. They lived on, separate and alone, forever.
two gentlemen stared into each others eyes.
one was always late, the other was always early.
“i think we’d better-” said one
“i think we better hadn’t. maybe in a few minutes” anthropomorphized the other.
When Betty was born she was five feet tall. Her thirteen foot father and nine foot mother looked at her and smiled. She’s normal! They beamed.
Of course, as Betty became older, she grew. In kindergarden she was able to slam dunk. In fourth grade the other kids drew pictures of airplanes running into her head.d
Betty never felt like she fit in anywhere, and was always self conscious about her height. On a class trip she had to buy two seats on the airplane to the state capital – not because she took up two seats, but because everyone was afraid to sit next to her.
Betty’s pants were custom made from protective car covers.
“I have Armani pants”, Katrina Matrea would tell her. “What are yours, Honda Civic?”
Betty occasionally surprised people with her sweet high pitched voice. They expected an aggressive low tone and an intimidating drawl. Betty had the gift of a wonderful singing voice as well. She could make anyone cry with even a simple swooning hum. But she was shy. She sang only a few times a year, usually while gardening alone.
On one occasion while Betty was at school, sitting in the back of her class (no one could see over her), she and her classmates heard a crying outside. They all went out, and upon investigation realized that a polka dotted cat was stuck on the roof above them. Betty’s height came in handy as she was tall enough to reach the edge of the rooftop, but had to use her sweet voice to lure the polka dotted feline from the highest point of the A shaped building.
The cat was curiously drawn into her arms. The other students wanted to applaud, but didn’t want Betty to kill them, so they refrained at first. Betty wanted recognition every so badly. She remembered an incident in which her father, a window washer, had asked his boss for recognition and was given a raise. He mentioned that his height saved the company hundreds of dollars each year on ladders and ladder maintenance, and that this contribution was priceless in terms of time saved. Betty began a slow clap in front of the other students, in an attempt to make it “catch on” and begin a round of applause.
“You’re going to kill that cat, you can’t clap with a cat in your hand!” Betty placed the cat down and went into the janitorial closet and cried – breaking the overhead lamp as she sat down. She was not happy with who she was, and who she was becoming. The world felt like it was created specifically to bring her into this dark place. Not just the janitor closet, but darker still. A dark place where one can never be who they want to be, and one can never escape the barrage of opinions from others.
That night, Betty sat down with her mom.
“Mom, when I grow up – err – when I’m older, does this problem go away?”
“It won’t matter-”
“Oh good!” Betty smiled and sighed in relief.
“Honey, I wasn’t finished. It won’t matter because you’ll find new problems to dwell on, and it will be a nearly insignificant thing in your past as you realize the more important issues in life.”
“Oh. So, when does that happen?”
“Well, let’s see. When you have your first boyfriend you’ll realize that your height isn’t the end of the world, but you’ll be unsure of other things. At that age, well, you’ll be worrying about your skin, your hair, your clothes. So many other things will come into play. Anyway, you’ll never be able to do anything about your height so you might as well forget about it as soon as you can.”
“Or use it to make some money!” Betty’s father chimed in. He was quite old fashioned.
Betty’s mom smiled. “Or use it to your advantage” she said.
That night, as Betty lay her 13 year old, 8 foot body down on her 15 foot bed, custom made from wood intended for building sailboats, she thought to herself, and made a promise. As if being gifted with a divine inspiration, she said to herself “I have something no one else has. It would be a shame to be in this world without people like me. I’m going to use it to help myself, and to help others, because otherwise I’m just a waste of space! A lot of space at that.”
But this promise felt empty, and Betty lived out her high school years as a mascot (for the school logo included a giraffe), and a basketball player (the coach promised he could get her into the college of her choice). Betty’s first boyfriend experience was much like her mother had told her it would be, but with a few additions. Her boyfriend was known for being the shortest kid in his class, so this created some complications. Betty would literally need to be lying down in order to kiss him. They couldn’t hold each other during the slow dance at prom. He couldn’t give her a hug when she felt sad. All of this was fine though, because they liked each other. But he became ill, and Betty’s first boyfriend passed away.
This certainly was not something her mother had warned her about. She had believed her, and it felt as if she’d been lied to and torn apart by the pain all at once. Nothing could have prepared her for this type of tragedy.
Betty didn’t sing for five years after that. She was closed off to the world, and didn’t ever want to meet another boy again. She again saw her height as problematic, and re-committed herself to a different sort of life. She committed herself to depression, menial income, television, and stagnancy. She thought of never leaving the house again, but later got hungry and had to buy some groceries. She became ten feet tall, and twenty-six years old, and lived in her parents house without a friend in the world. Alone.
Betty felt sorry enough for herself that she attempted to get disability after high school, though she could not qualify because they it as “extra ability”. People told her that they wished they were tall(er). They gave advice of becoming a fruit picker, a painter, or even a traffic director.
Betty accepted a position as one of the tall waving people outside of a retail store, encouraging customers to come in for a purchase. She became incurably embarrassed. Betty began to wear a bumblebee mask as she represented “Tommy B’s bakery. Her life began to feel as worthless as ever.
On a Friday morning in January, when Betty had the day off from work and was sitting in her bed looking out the window, it began to snow. She felt completely moved by the snow, as it covered the lawn and became like a layer of the softest sheets covering the entire backyard. Though she didn’t immediately feel any long term hope for her life, she felt a moment of lifted inspiration and began to sing. She sang for a full minute. It warmed her heart and even melted some of the snow into a glistening sculpture. As the minute ticked past, a small cat pounced onto the snow, and made footprints across the entire lawn until it reached her back door. She continued to sing as it opened the door and walked to her bedroom.
“Hi” said that cat. It shook off the freshly fallen snow from it’s beautiful, soft, warm winter coat. It was the same cat she had saved from the rooftop many years before.
“Hello” Betty replied, in song. It was as if she had forgotten how to speak without singing. “Who are you?” She asked.
“I am the cat you saved.”
“I know” she sang, “But why can you talk?”
“I am god” said the cat.
“Oh. Why do I get to talk to you?” She sang softly.
The cat smiled.“You aren’t talking to me, you’re singing to me – and beautifully I might add.”
Betty blushed. “Thanks.”
“You are tall enough to be in my presence – to be great. It is your gift.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your height is not meant to frustrate you, but rather to improve you.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just, I don’t know how. Ten feet is just really tall.”
“You have understood your abilities, and you have been punished enough. It’s time to become aware.”
“I’m ready!”
At that, the god cat waved its paw. Betty felt a transformation deep inside of her. She thought to herself that it must be her organs miniaturizing to fit in her new normal sized body. She thought that the pain in her arms must be from the compression required to shorten them. When Betty opened her eyes and was able to examine herself, she realized, in horror, that she was now thirty feet tall. She was lying down in her bedroom,yet her feet had knocked over the television in the living room.
“Welcome to the new you” the cat whispered.
Thirty Foot Betty began to cry. Her giant tears splashed onto the ground and got the god cat wet. The god cat shot up a scowl, but shook it off along with the giant tear.
“You’ll be fine” Said the god cat. Just calm down.
“But I don’t want to be Thirty Foot Betty!” cried Thirty Foot Betty.
“And I don’t want to be a cat, but that’s just the way god made us I guess….”
“But I thought you were….”
“Just joking. You’ll be fine Betty.”
The god cat about-faced, playfully smacked a thimble sitting on the ground in the hallway, watched it roll, and exited out the backdoor and once again across the snowy back yard.
Betty sat in shock of what just happened, how tall she had become, and of course how unbelievably cute the god cat was.
For the next few weeks, Betty dwelled on the difficulty of going to the bathroom. She fretted over the impossibility of boarding the subway. When attending Liz Horner’s birthday potluck dinner party, Betty was embarrassed by her massive appetite. She ate all of the mashed potatoes in one bite and picked her teeth with a turkey leg. She apologized to her friends and offered her homemade fruit leather that she brought to share. Everyone was thrilled by the fruit leather, but Betty still ended up sitting on the porch and turning herself into a saddened misfit. When her friends finally found the courage to ask her about her recent 20 foot growth spurt, she grabbed her cookie sheets and ran home.
Thirty Foot Betty’s new life began with her constantly feeling sorry for herself. Her time was spent in finding new ways to achieve sympathy and negative attention. She became a disabled person in an abled person’s thirty foot body.
This type of thinking can affect oneself in two different ways. The first option is for one to realize their tendency to approach life with a cup looking for handouts. Find the dirt and wipe it off.
The second option is the blind eye, in which one can choose to mull over the same dilemma year after year, without owning up to the power to change from within. This power is gifted to each of us when we are born, and it is even greater when you are thirty feet tall.
It took an entire year before Thirty Foot Betty made the decision that she was the first type. She realized what she had been doing wrong. She had been making the conscious choice to ask people, each with their own situations, to be responsible for hers. Instead of living outdoors, where there are no restrictive ceilings, she had turned her home into a wheelchair friendly zone, wherein she actually had to lean back in the wheelchair to fit through doorways. Instead of adapting to her new size and eating appropriately types of meals, she simply ate human sized meals in greater proportions, and complained about them being five times the price that they should be.
One Sunday Thirty Foot Betty was being pushed in her wheelchair on the sidewalk at an outdoor mall. As every Sunday is the beginning of the new week, they always have potential to be life changing. Few people take advantage of this little known fact. Her mother was pushing her along. As they approached a boating store to arrange for a new blazer for Thirty Foot Betty, an assumption was somehow made that only the mother should go in the store. A nice young man who worked at the store saw the mother enter, leaving her daughter outside. He walked out the door and faced Thirty Foot Betty.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked.
“I…I don’t mind waiting outside, I’m used to it.”
“We would really be happy to accommodate you, the ceilings are plenty high for our boats.”
“I don’t want to…scare anyone.”
“Scare anyone? How so?”
“I’m thirty feet tall.”
“Oh, wow. Have you thought of becoming a model? With that kind of height and such a beautiful face, I can definitely see that.”
“Oh wow. Thank you. I haven’t ever thought of that. I’ve always wanted to become a singer actually.”
“A singer! Hey, can I hear your voice?”
“You want…you mean my singing voice? Right now?”
“Please.”
Thirty Foot Betty sat with wide eyes, not quite sure what to do. So she did the only thing she could think of. She sang.
The moment she began, people walking by paused in their tracks. She stopped and stared at her. A smile grew onto a little girl’s face. A tear appeared in an old woman’s eye. Most people had their jaws wide open. Taking the sweet sound into every hole in their face.
Betty could finally see that staring wasn’t always a bad thing. The boy who worked at the boat store bit his lip with excitement. He was clearly elated with his decision to ask her to sing.
The power swelled in Thirty Foot Betty. She knew who she was again. She stood up, out of her wheelchair, further securing herself as the standout character in the crowded outdoor shopping mall.
She belted out a song with no lyrics, not at all relying on the power of language, but only the power of self. It was the most beautiful song to which the world had ever been witness.
Everyone within earshot was remembering their first ice cream cones, their first loves, their first haircuts, and their favorite desserts. This sweet voice echoed throughout the plaza and throughout each of the listeners. Italian men thought of their first pizza! Bird lovers thought of their first jay! Tree lovers were not around because they were at a mall.
The boy who worked at the boating store opened the door and offered her to go in ahead of him. She smiled and as she continued to sing, she ducked into the doorway and stood up inside the boat store. Her mother was now looking up at her in awe. Thirty Foot Betty was becoming Wonderful Betty. No longer a victim of her height but a living story of her dreams.
The boating store echoed her voice, as if it were the waves of a wonderfully exciting storm in the middle of the sea. Small hints of her voice fluttered off the cherrywood furniture like seagulls. All the while everyone was anchored into their places without moving so much as a [mussel].
Wonderful Betty ended her song. Her wheelchair had just been stolen from outside the door. The spiteful person in search of their own lesson had come across it.
The boy who worked at the boat store walked up to her again.
May I have this dance? Everyone in the store applauded. Wonderful Betty Reach down and picked him up. She held him like a baby and sang to him as the entire boating store staff and all of their customers went on with their days having been enriched with the sort of pleasant feeling that usually can only be found as a child. Her new blazer was being arranged by her mother. It would be fairly hideous, but that wouldn’t matter.
She danced with the boy and sang to him for hours in the boat store and wondered what would happen next. She was starting to get hungry again from all that singing!
I love Sundays! People are so silly!
When I was a little seven year old boy I used to poop my pants on purpose. I did that on Thursday mornings and no one really cared because it was a weekday and someone told me it was just a part of my mom’s “daily grind”. I don’t really know what that means. Seems like it was my grind that made it happen.
When I was eight, which was just last year, I used to constantly drop soy sauce bottles. I would position them in the refrigerator so that when my mom was in the kitchen she would watch me accidentally break them. I would cry and spank myself and ask to be spanked until they bought more soy sauce, and then I would do it again the following week.
I like to keep things weekly because so much happens in between that I can keep it regular, but no one ever seems to notice that it falls on the same day. It’s a very natural amount of time. I’ve always wondered if my dog could feel like a week has gone by. I assume he has since he’s in it just the same as I am. My dog has this disease where he can’t tell when an hour has gone by though. I told him to wake me up in an hour and he didn’t even try. Dogs are so stupid. I’m sorry for saying that. I love him.
This year, I’ve decided to have sexual sundays. I learned all about sex from this TV show where people pull down their pants. I don’t know why pulling down your pants is called sex but now I know why they do it. It’s pretty much the most fun thing I’ve ever done.
Every Sunday, sometimes before Church, sometimes after Church, and often in the middle of Church, I start having sex in front of everyone. I hide my pants under things so that my mom has no way to cover me up. It’s so funny! Last time she was pretending to cry because someone called me a terror. Can you believe they fell for that? I love Church. Now that I think about it my dog is constantly having sex. Except for one time when I found a pair of my dad’s pants in the mailbox.
Today is Sunday. I’m so excited to be creative and figure out the most super fun way to have sex. Maybe I’ll wear my pants on my head. It’s a pretty big coincidence that the opening in my pants is the same size as my head so it seems like a natural thing to take advantage of.
Church is more crowded than normal. I just found out it’s Elsie Mathers’ 80th birthday. She thought she was gonna get all the attention today. Well I’ve got news for her. I hope she likes sex.
Wow. Hold everything. Who is that girl that is with Elsie? She looks like…a princess. Oh my goodness. What was I going to do again? Who is this girl…what day is it? I’ve got to find out more. I wonder how old she is. I can only like a girl if she’s younger than me. It’s manly to be old. I heard that if a girl is older than you she’s pretty much your boss. She gets to graduate from high school first and always gets the front seat in the car so I avoid older girls at all cost.
She’s wearing a pale yellow dress. Just like Belle did when she danced with the beast! I wonder if she also has her nose stuck in a book and leads a simple provincial life.
Uh oh, someone spilled wine on her dress! That beautiful dress! Strange, I didn’t even think of the dress as its own separate self until now. Whenever I first see someone I always assume that their clothes are part of the package. That’s probably the only reason why it’s strange for dogs to wear pants. Because you didn’t meet them like that.
She must be Elsie’s grand daughter. She’s going to the bathroom to change. She’s leaving the dress in the social area. Wait a second. I got so distracted! I let this girl distract me from Sexual Sundays! That was so weird. I should be letting her inspire my creativity, not take it away. I should be using the situation to make things better.
I sneaked into the church’s boy’s bathroom. I’ve removed the yellow dress from where it was hiding up my shirt. I lock the door. I am so excited. Bye bye undies.
Someone is trying to get in! Good thing I locked it. Oh no it’s my dad I think. I hope he likes his new daughter. Here we go.
Unlock the door. Peek outside. The pretty girl is back out there. She’s wearing tights. Ohhh I know she’s gonna love this! I am running out of the bathroom!
“Oh that terror!”
“What the hell?!”
“You little pervert!”
People are screaming as I lift my pretty dress up and down and show everyone my butt. Look at me! I wiped to hard! Look at me! My ding dong is swing back and forth and making slapping sounds. Most people don’t know it does that but I’m used to it by now.
My dad pretended to cry on the car ride home. I told him he was funny and that I was in love with the girl.
My mom asked why.
I told her that she helped me become the pervert I’ve always wanted to be.
he would look at her all day long in his head. she had a secret and he was going to figure it out. there was no way this would slip past him. he knew it was there and he was determined, and had plenty of time. he stared and stared. her eyes didn’t give him any more clues. they were tired and glazed over with fear. they made a point of placing inconsequential topics ahead of things that mattered. food, money, distractions. the eyes were the spikes and the brain was the cactus. he had to reach between the spikes to feel the smoothness of the cactus. he reached and reach, but was not quite able to get in far enough to feel the smooth, revealing substance he had been hoping for. he touched the spikes several times during the attempts, and bled. he was reaching so hard that his own hands became spikes, and he realized that he too, now, was a cactus. the entire world was turning into a cactus. the spikes over the entire world were thought of as unavoidable, but in actuality, all he had to do was lower his arms and smile with his eyes.
there is a row of people leaning against a building. many are easy on the eyes. most have some change in their pockets but cannot understand why they should give it to unattractive people when they ask for it. no one wants you around. you are a hunchback. you need to go away. these people are expecting rain. they are waiting in line. the line starts to move. they all enter a small room. it is raining heavily outside at this point. some people wonder whether (weather) rain is anyone’s religion. it seems likely. they all sit down inside of this room. they look at each other and express their jealousy of one another. one of them lights a cigarette. one of them recites the alphabet. no one is happy and everyone has a weight on their shoulders. why weren’t they talking outside? they can now that they are face to face and they can explain their problems clearly? they can describe their vivid jealousy. green. it seems important to insert kindness and compassion between complaints. is that why the world isn’t such a bad place? because it seems important? maybe your priorities are off. two skinny girls start pulling each others hair. it’s time they start screaming, someone thought. a man who had a heart attack a few years ago steps in between them. i want to see your bodies, he says, but i don’t want to see them fighting each other. a wrestler turns on a boombox and starts dancing to it. he grew up outside, and always looked in the window of a family who listened to their boombox a lot. they often danced to the sound of it, but he couldn’t hear the music through the sliding glass door. so he thought they just turned it on and danced. his boombox is not playing any music. it’s just on. these people go to this room every monday. they have a commitment to it.
jenny and brian are walking, to stretch their legs and their minds. they are also going to dinner. destination: the blue bayou restaurant near chicken world. they get to the bottom of a hill and sigh as they realize that they have to walk up the hill, but they don’t mention it. they are too busy discussing the rampant redundancy taking place in the education system. the hike becomes less so as they near the top of the hill. at the very peak there is an old building, with a thick, awkward piece of wood in front of it. like some sort of ancient park bench. there are plants on either side of it. hey, isn’t that the thing your dad was talking about on saturday? WHAT DO YOU MEAN he responds because he doesn’t want to seem sexist. that’s the thing your dad was saying killed those people. they were trying to sleep inside of it and it crushed them. oh, yeah, i guess i couldn’t understand that story without actually seeing it. what kind of idiot would tell a story about a bench anyway? that’s not a very compelling image for the mind’s eye. i like my dad. ok. they walk past it. forever. until a second later brian says hold on anagram. i wanna check it out for a second actually. he walks up to the bench. ‘it must easily weigh over a billion pounds’, he thinks to himself in his head, and then out loud, and then two more times in his head. yeah, says the girl. i forgot what her name was supposed to be. let’s call her ‘simple’ from now on, because that’s what all girls are. this story is meant to be sexist and unironic. simple disagrees. she thinks it’s probably around half a ton, which is accurate. she really is smarter than he is, but the author is male so we’ll never have a chance to explore that. ‘i want to get inside’ he says. do you think it’s safe? she says. people died in it. he takes his eyes off of her and looks at the bench. ‘oh i kind of want to get inside this bench too’ he says in his head. yeah, i think it’s safe. as long as we don’t act like idiots, plain and simple. his name is plain from now on because why not. he peeks over the top of the bench and sees the far side. it’s got some human bones. he tells simple not to be disgusted by him because he is about to disregard that it would be gross to lie on the bones. he gets an erection and a flashback. in his head he is suddenly able to see how this person died. the person was trying to give themselves shelter for the night by pushing the bench against the wall and it ended up crushing their skull. they had a strawberry and the trauma caused them to drop it. a strawberry plant was growing not two feet away from him at that point. wow, he says outloud and then in his head several thousand times at once. plain happens to be holding two strawberries. he drops one on purpose, on the other side of the bench from where simple was standing looking at the strawberry plant. he says ‘i want to recreate the scene. i want you to carefully shove the bench in and build me shelter so i can experience what they must have gone through. i have another strawberry’. by the time he finishes the sentence and says ‘strawberry’ he is against the wall and his skull is crushed. she has already been crying for half an hour, and is probably pregnant. he has dropped the strawberry what seemed like and could have very well been several years ago. she is decomposed in her place, waiting for him. there is a strawberry plant for each of them which has grown together and become one. the plant is named plain and simple strawberry farms, and its fruits are being sold by the bushel. people sometimes want to get shelter inside the bench and this only adds to the profit. they make the ground more fertile. in the end, this makes the oceans more fertile.
