Archive for the ‘Authors’ Category
Elephants
Tuesday, October 5th, 2010
Two elephants carved from a black wood stand on the counter alongside a card advertising Gonella Baking Company Italian beef dogs and a small stack of flyers for Triple-A. Each elephant wears on its forehead an index card with the words ‘For Sale – $100’ in faded red ink. The handwriting is cursive, feminine, neat.
As I cover my brats with ketchup, I notice the elephants seem angry. Their eyes, inlaid disks of unpolished silvery metal located on the sides of their heads, hold a rage that threatens to ignite them, to send them marching up and down the lunchcounter, setting the flyers ablaze in an advertising apocalypse as they trumpet righteous fire. But why? Is it the plight of their great brothers and sister in Africa? Or is it simply because they have cards taped to their heads?
I remove the cards, peeling back the tape with great care, then prop them up along the elephants. It doesn’t seem to help. All I have done is attract their attention. Are their trunks quivering, their feet readying themselves to stampede?
I throw a dollar beside my half-eaten brats and step outside. Outside in the August sunshine, a car rolls by, metal hubcaps flashing. Behind me, I can feel the weight of elephant eyes watching me go.
Give Me a Happy Ending Any Old Day
Monday, October 4th, 2010
It started with An American in Paris, that Gene Kelly movie. My dead mother, who had never left Des Moines in her life, was in the café scenes watching Gene and singing along to “S’Wonderful”. She loved that film.
Good for her, I say. And good for Kellie Manx, my high school sweetheart, for appearing in the books of Mark and John in the Bible. She’s the one walking on the water with Jesus, instead of Peter. Somehow I always thought she’d be the sort to do that.
Constantin Dinescu, a fellow clerk at the law firm where I work, got run over last week and wound up in an old Woody Guthrie song. I don’t really know if it’s appropriate or not; we didn’t talk that much.
Hold on a minute. I guess that means Kellie’s probably dead. Bummer.
I’ve asked around, and nobody else is noticing their dead relatives and friends showing up in books or movies or songs or whatever. They look at me kind of weird when I ask, too, like maybe I’ve been smoking the wrong stuff.
I’ve been trying to figure out if there’s a way to make a buck at this. My first plan was to bet a guy in a bar that my mom was a film star, then show her the movie. But she’s only in that one movie, so far as I can tell, and it isn’t that big a part, and I probably wouldn’t win much that way anyway.
My second plan was to sell the rights, kind of like insurance, I guess. I went to Trevor, my best bud, and said that for a c-note I’d stick him into Spider-Man comics. At first he thought I’d got a writing gig, but when I explained it to him he just laughed.
I don’t have a third plan yet. I’m still working on it. Don’t invite me to any horror movies, though. My dog died recently and I really don’t want to see him in one.