Valleytown is holding the 81st Annual Valleytown County Fair. On Fair Day entry is free, otherwise tickets are five five five dollars and parking is five too. You may choose from one hundred games, including dunk him, throw ring, shoot shoot. There are also one hundred amusement rides. I am inside the Grav-i-tron spinning past ninety-nine miles each hour. The skin on my face starts to peel off from the force, my whole body is spread eagled flat and tight up on the ceiling. Awful horn music blares from the Grav-i-tron’s core as my two front teeth fly down my throat. Last light I can see is blue.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Full Circle Story #19
The traps men fall into are usually their own doing, unless you are one of those unfortunate patsy types, naturally born a scapegoat. Normally children do not have to be held responsible for much, this is of course excluding evil children.
Full Circle Story #18
I was holding the wide yellow sign explaining the low cost housing for sale and I was by the side of a busy road. A man paid me seven an hour to hold that yellow sign up and wave it around to oncoming traffic. Some passerby showed their support by honking horns and waving but many made lewd gestures and screamed insults. Sometimes people threw trash at me, usually missing since they drove so fast. I truly do not mind this work.
Cut Ups #2
The child in his crib less than a year old watches the starry mobile spinning seemingly miles above his soft little head mouth open eyes wide ever curious. His mother approaches with her hands over her face where did she go? Inches closer and closer she has the boy’s full attention muttering sweet sounding baby talk goo goo gah gah who’s a big boy? She’s right up at the crib towering over him looking at her trying to find her face anticipating the reveal the game and laughter. He has to pee and he’s a baby so he does but mommy doesn’t know yet. He lets out a babbling sound a bit a drool drips down his chin he reaches up for her fingers wriggling cute little worms. She removes her hands from in front of her face but it isn’t mommy. Burnt ashen handprints cover the revealed skull the eyeless sockets the lipless mouth boney teeth sticking out two flat holes for the nose. The boy so ready to laugh lets out a scream he cries wants to look away but he cannot he is confused. She picks the boy up tight grip he’s wriggling fiercely to escape lifts him right up to her skeleton face. The baby is silent now staring with watery eyes and quivering lip into the pitch black eyes sockets. She says Mommy loves you sweetie tosses him into the air catches him coming back down tosses him into the air catches him coming back down. He reaches out puts his tiny hand over the black handprint feels the charred flaking flesh feels the smooth bone underneath. Someone went pee pee! she exclaims and lays him down on the changing station disposes dirty diaper and applies fresh one returns him to the crib. She goes to leave baby boy crying again. She removes her head and places it on the diaper station facing the crib. Don’t worry honey boy Mommy will stay with you all night the skull coos as her body leaves the room.
Cut Ups #1
Noise from the singing bowls leather covered stick rubs around the rim tiny vibrations cause the sound highly meditative since he had bought the jacket he had heard nothing but the noise of the singing bowls the jacket was pink leather thin wrinkly with his shades on he was the coolest pink jacket zipped up tight to his chin perfectly trimmed goatee driving along the highway over 100 MPH the pastel palm trees zipping by the ocean in the distance she sits beside him on the vinyl seat of the convertible shining gold muffler screeching practically flying along this beach side highway he turns to her smiling gold teeth her reflection in his sunglasses perfect she strokes the pink sleeve of his jacket on his right side hand slinks down to his groin he’s really smiling now sun falling down fast casting enormous shadows and beams of strange colored lights the moon is already visible a pack of dolphins giggling hopping along the waves keeping pace with the speeding convertible wave to the dolphins baby! and they wave back with their slippery flippers spurting salt water from blow holes she catches some in her mouth spits it back out too salty she goes to kiss him he tastes the salty brine on her lips he’s distracted just momentarily enough hands drift on the wheel direction veers off road SLAMS into a pastel palm tree innards of varying shades of red splatter upon impact sunglasses shatter fragments of glass in his eyes her body bends into impossible shapes the convertible smooshed accordion style the pink jacket eviscerated the couple soar through the air propelled forward they land in the water and bob there two mutilated life buoys the dolphins inch closer to investigate declare them both deceased the lead dolphin takes the remains of the pink jacket and puts it on pretty swell right guys? he cackles the dolphins swim off into open water jealous of the leader’s new coat
Full Circle Story #17
Ned was trying to get his toenails down with a #2 pencil eraser.
Once the nail on each toe was shortened to the proper length, Ned went about fixing his breakfast as usual. Today was oatmeal with petrified raisin.
Ned expects a visitor this morning. Midway through the oatmeal,
a knock is heard at the front door.
Ned has second thoughts as he reaches for the knob. He twists it naturally to the right and the front door opens.
A brown skinned Somalian boy stands straight with a dopey smile and his hand outstretched.
“Missa...Drum?” the Somalian sputters hopefully.
Ned takes the boy’s hand and they shake.
“Yes,” he says.
“I am Ned Drum. You must be Ohdy. Please come in out of the cold.”
Ohdy furrows his brown, perplexed.
“But, Missa Drum,” Ohdy looks up.
“Sun out and very hot.”
“Never mind that,” says Ned.
“Just come inside. Let me grab your bag.”
Ohdy lifts a worn blue duffel bag with little white stars printed along the side off the front porch and enters through Ned’s door.
Inside there are many lights (a dozen floor lamps, at least and no less than three chandeliers)
all switched on. Ohdy raises his free hand to shield his eyes.
No art hangs on the walls, but above the fireplace hangs a portrait of a beautiful blond woman, elegantly dressed in a purple eggplant shaped gown. Her blond hair hangs past her shoulders and has red ribbons tied throughout.
The full breasts protruding from the eggplant remind of Ohdy of freshly baked rolls.
‘Who could this woman be?’ Ohdy wonders silently.
As if by some telekinetic cue, Ned speaks,
“My wife, Mrs. Carson Drum. She is no longer with us.”
“She leave you, Missa Drum?”
“No,” Ned answers calmly. He pauses and stares at the picture.
“Carson passed away six years ago, Ohdy. If only she were alive now, I am certain she would have been delighted by you.”
Ohdy is uncomfortable with death.
He considers how to console Ned.
“Sad news, Missa Drum. I am very sorry to hear this.”
Carson Drum stares down enchantedly, her presence unmistakable.
Ned Drum has moved into the kitchen.
“You must be hungry, Ohdy. do you like cherry pie?”
Inside the kitchen Ohdy marvels at the electric oven, the refrigerator and especially the microwave.
Ohdy finds the concept of tables and chairs peculiar.
“Have a seat. Let me take your bag,” says Ned.
He grabs the duffel out of Ohdy’s hand and takes it into another room, what appears to be the only dark room in the house.
Once the nail on each toe was shortened to the proper length, Ned went about fixing his breakfast as usual. Today was oatmeal with petrified raisin.
Ned expects a visitor this morning. Midway through the oatmeal,
a knock is heard at the front door.
Ned has second thoughts as he reaches for the knob. He twists it naturally to the right and the front door opens.
A brown skinned Somalian boy stands straight with a dopey smile and his hand outstretched.
“Missa...Drum?” the Somalian sputters hopefully.
Ned takes the boy’s hand and they shake.
“Yes,” he says.
“I am Ned Drum. You must be Ohdy. Please come in out of the cold.”
Ohdy furrows his brown, perplexed.
“But, Missa Drum,” Ohdy looks up.
“Sun out and very hot.”
“Never mind that,” says Ned.
“Just come inside. Let me grab your bag.”
Ohdy lifts a worn blue duffel bag with little white stars printed along the side off the front porch and enters through Ned’s door.
Inside there are many lights (a dozen floor lamps, at least and no less than three chandeliers)
all switched on. Ohdy raises his free hand to shield his eyes.
No art hangs on the walls, but above the fireplace hangs a portrait of a beautiful blond woman, elegantly dressed in a purple eggplant shaped gown. Her blond hair hangs past her shoulders and has red ribbons tied throughout.
The full breasts protruding from the eggplant remind of Ohdy of freshly baked rolls.
‘Who could this woman be?’ Ohdy wonders silently.
As if by some telekinetic cue, Ned speaks,
“My wife, Mrs. Carson Drum. She is no longer with us.”
“She leave you, Missa Drum?”
“No,” Ned answers calmly. He pauses and stares at the picture.
“Carson passed away six years ago, Ohdy. If only she were alive now, I am certain she would have been delighted by you.”
Ohdy is uncomfortable with death.
He considers how to console Ned.
“Sad news, Missa Drum. I am very sorry to hear this.”
Carson Drum stares down enchantedly, her presence unmistakable.
Ned Drum has moved into the kitchen.
“You must be hungry, Ohdy. do you like cherry pie?”
Inside the kitchen Ohdy marvels at the electric oven, the refrigerator and especially the microwave.
Ohdy finds the concept of tables and chairs peculiar.
“Have a seat. Let me take your bag,” says Ned.
He grabs the duffel out of Ohdy’s hand and takes it into another room, what appears to be the only dark room in the house.
Full Circle Story #16
An empty passenger train fell out of the clear blue sky today, landing in the parking lot of Mercantile Carpet, crushing ten vehicles each a different size and color, killing four standers-by, two men get out of their cars and two women getting into their cars. No casualties occurred on board the train because no one person was on the train. For a train which had plummeted from above, at an indeterminate beginning point, it held up pretty well. A day later they had her running again, right back on the same Valbany Track, between Fillent and Parkson. The conductor was delighted, she even ran better than ever before. I am on the scene, here, today, right now. I was planning on buying a rug for my bathroom.
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