To keep from sobbing, the man plucked a pen from the chipped coffee mug he kept on a shelf above his kitchen table and began scratching out a list of things he still had—beginning with his health 1 and ending, sixteen entries later, with a “1995 Jeep Wrangler w/ soft top.”2
For the next several minutes he reviewed his work, scanning the list a number of times, running a thumb along the righthand margin of the legal pad. But when he tried lifting his eyes to confront the closed door that had punctuated her departure 3, his eyes filled up 4—and the paper he clung to turned to ash in his fingers.5
****
1 not for sale
2 also not for sale
3 the door through which she’d left; the door she’d walked out on him through
4 with tears
5 in the ‘magical realism’ sense; science cannot adequately explain the occurrence
Think he might want to sell that Jeep?
Think he might want to sell that Jeep?
Man, that’s COLD!!
Well, yes. But then he can’t well sell his health, now can he?
Whoa. Hope this isn’t a roman a clef.
Clap clap clap clap! Nice. And if his list of possessions includes clap, that would explain a lot.
No key necessary, Allah—though I do own a Wrangler. But mine is a ‘94 Sahara.
This is why you should never write with one hand while smoking with the other.
… but soon the tears that streamed from his eyes slowed and then stopped. As his eyes focused on the door that had only moments before brought him so much sorrow, a realization swept over him.. He was looking at the door to the broom closet. ‘But why would she…?’ he thought, genuinely perplexed. Slowly the man inched toward the door as if reluctant to even entertain hope of what he might find. Reaching the door the man held his breath and listened.. ear to the door.. nothing.. All he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.. Timidly, the man laid his hand upon the knob as if to open the door, but then thinking better of it, suddenly withdrew it. ‘Perhaps I should knock first.. ‘ he thought. tap-tap-tap the man knocked..quietly at first.. nothing..again..Tap-Tap-Tap..only silence.. TAP-TAP-TAP.. once again ..louder.. This time , however, like the voice of a banshee eminating from hell itself, came the response.. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ??!!”
(more later.. getting off work..AB)
Romana Clef woould be a good name for a porn star.
But does it fit the rule for making up a porn name, gail?
The last man in the universe sat alone in a one room shack.
There was a knock at the door.
–Anon
“But when he tried lifting his eyes to confront the door she’d walked out through, his eyes filled with tearsâ€â€and the paper he was holding onto turned to ash in his fingers.”
And then he thought to himself, “Next time, I use the bong!”
spam word – plan
…but what could he expect? Oglesby, Texas was no place for a World-Class Sushi Chef. And now that he had her resignation in hand, he’d have to place another ad in the local paper…along with the ad for a licensed and bonded maid. Fat friggin’ chance of that happening either. Time to head out to the Sonic Drive-In for dinner.
Spamword: working…as in, “it ain’t good, but I’m working on it.”
“the door she’d walked out through”
Needs work.
m —
Thanks! I’ll take it under advisement!
Incidentally, am I dressed okay to blog?
Oh, c’mon Jeff, you want feedback. You want feedback, right?
You don’t want feedback?
Pick one.
Yes! Yes I do! I am clay! MOLD ME!
“the door through which she’d left him”
I’m honored.
Ooh. Turing word: high.
Are these … random?
So, like, if Jeff and WindRider95 wrote the first and second halves of paragraphs for the length of a book, we’d all buy it, right?
If it had pictures. Then, fer sure.
Was 8” COCK on the List?
Cuz if it was, that would be something else . . .
OK Robin, what are the rules for making up a porn name?
And “The door through which she’d left him” sounds too prissy, and that is the sort of tone up with which I will not put.
Fine.
“But when he tried lifting his eyes to confront the door through which the thick-hipped skag’d tugged her two overstuffed suitcases, his eyes filled upâ€â€and the paper he clung to turned to ash in his fingers.”
The rest of you can fill in whatever you want, wherever you want, as needed. After all, I’m a giver.
Don’t you have to combine the name of the first street you ever lived on with your mother’s madien name?
Because “through” takes a stronger stress than “him,” which causes the cadence to drop off.
Herron Butterworth does NOT sound pornographic; it sounds dorky.
I want you to put it back the way it WAS Jeff. I’m fighting for you here.
“But when he tried lifting his eyes to confront the door the thick-hipped skag’d tugged her two overstuffed suitcases through.”
Did I mention that Gail is a Catholic Choir Girl? Hmmmmmmm?
Are you smiling?
Herron Butterworth ?
How ‘bout Hardon Butterbuns.. a Gay Porn Star ?
Diana, you don’t suppose he’s tethered naked to the kitchen table again?
I think Hardon Butterbuns sounds like a hobbit.
I see we’re chumming the water.
the word is “hard”. Perv.
I’m pretty sure that’s the rule (first street name+mom’s madien name). Maybe I’m wrong…..
The rule can’t work everytime.
Randy little buggers, those hobbits.
It was just a random thought! Come to think of it, probably more than that.
If you could work in the word “whence” I’d be happy as a clam. Until such time, I am woefully dissatisfied and find all your efforts a vast exercise in futility.
Daniel, I think it works better for guys. There has to be another rule for women, like your first car and your favorite mouthwash.
If Jeff’s taking requests, I’d like him to work in either “whelk” or “limpet.”
SAAB Plax.
mmmmmm…No.
I think it has to be some dime-store spelling for a trinket that a nymphet would play with or candy that she might take from a stranger.
There needs to be a guitar in there somewhere. He’ll get a better price for the Jeep in Nashville anyways.
Regards,
Ric
(Turing word: men)
No, no, no. It’s the name of the first street you lived on and the name of your first pet.
Tuckerman Rascal. Hmmmm…..
Whence the whelk? Whence the limpet? Whence the angry sea that demands of me the flensing of a sea cow?
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
He gets bonus points for “flence”. None other.
And if we’re making requests, I’d like “onomontopeia.”
I don’t wanna see ya
Speakin’ in a foreign tongue
Anyone?…..Bueller?……anyone?
Please don’t misunderstand, Jeff, but “his eyes filled up -”? I’m assuming if he has his health, it’s not glaucoma. Maybe just conjunctivitis?
Gail, you know how much has been made of the homo erotic subtext of Lord of the Ring.. Hardon Butterbuns was Sam Gamgee’s ‘partner’ that got left behind when Sam decided to pursue Frodo half way around the known world.. I’m pretty sure that after Hardon recovered from the broken heart, he took up with one of those Took brothers.
Hey, didnt I read somewhere that Ward Churchill claimed he was 1/64th Baggins on his father’s side?
-Whittaker Harden <<<Porn Name
Suddenly the phone rang. He turned and stared at it, his mind blank and his will of floss. It rang again—telephones don’t tend to show much imagination—and by the third ring he had managed to pull himself together and move toanswer it.
“H-hello?” he asked huskily. That’s absurd, he told himself, I never attended the University of Nebraska!
“Johnny?” asked a youngish sounding female voice. “I’m at the bus station, but there’s a strange man here who’s been stalking me ever since I left Chicago. He was on my flight to Salt Lake City, and on the train to Las Vegas, and then he bought the last bus ticket here just as I was boarding. I’m afraid he’s going to do something horrible. You’ve got to come and pick me up before everyone else leaves. Johnny, I’m scared!”
“Sorry,” sighed Ed. “You’ve got the wrong number.” And he hung up. I’ve got problems of my own, bitch.
Huh-huh Huh-huh Huh-huh He said ‘Hard-On’…
Don’t do that, Jeff! You had me riveted.
Yeah! You should only do that if she’s free to move around some. Yeesh.
Poor little story. Barely had it begun to draw breath when the cold, hard, wicked, demanding world extinguished its delicately flickering flame. I think we were too hard on Jeff, you guys……
No I don’t. I just wanted to say “hard on”
Jeff. That hurts.
And you started it, by the way.
Crazy bastard.
You forgot the title.
It’s like watching a snuff film.
And the Dusty girl.
Ides of March?
What?
paper being burned and conflagration are totally different. One is flashpaper and the other is spontaneous combustion.
Hey! Everybody! Jeff’s got ‘shrooms!
To irresonsibly continue:
“Tap-Tap-Tap..only silence.. TAP-TAP-TAP.. once again ..louder.. This time , however, like the voice of a banshee eminating from hell itself, came the response.. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ??!!—
Back into his chamber, turning; all his soul within him burning. Much he marveled to hear discourse so plainly, though the outburst little relevancy bore. For he could not help agreeing, that no living human being, ever yet was blessed with a FRICKIN’ TALKIN’ BROOM CLOSET!
OK, maybe I shouldn’t participate. All I got is plagiarism.
You all are sooooooooo lucky I’ve been drinking martinis since 4:30-ish.
So lucky.
So very very lucky.
Like, the world opened up and lots of lucky fell out and you happened to be standing right where it landed—but rather than being crushed by the lucky, it became you. Because lucky is light and airy. And small enough to fit through your pores. That’s how lucky.
Lucky lucky lucky.
Eat your heart out Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Lucky ducky.
Excellent Big Dan!
Proof positive that great writing is never done by committee.
Not that I have anything against Powerline or anything.
The best thread in blogdom. Jeff you’re lucky lucky lucky to have this audience.
Great micro story too.
OK, go ahead and ignore me. It’s John Prine.
Slackers.
“The best thread in blogdom. Jeff you’re lucky lucky lucky to have this audience.”
Hmm, that’s funny, I just said that to someone about five minutes ago, although I don’t think I’d use the word “audience.” Don’t think Jeff doesn’t know that either. Not that he would ever admit it.
I’m a little confused. Did I do something to offend you people? Because I sense a degree of hostility.
To keep from sobbing, the man plucked a valium from the chipped coffee mug he kept on a shelf above his kitchen table and began scratching out a list of things he still had, beginning with his beer-belly and ending, sixteen entries later, with a mortgage that wouldn’t be paid off until Diana came clean about her “hot date.”
For the next several minutes he reviewed his work, scanning the list a number of times, running a thumb along the righthand margin of the legal pad. But when he tried lifting his eyes to confront the harridan that he had married under the threat of death from the Guido Brothers, his eyes filled up with the sight of his slightly retarded offspring, and the paper he was clinging to, Jeff turned into a fire breathing dragon, at which point he realized that he should’ve listened to Wavy Gravy and laid off the brown acid.
You know what? Fuck it. I don’t care.
Later.
Must be the martinis!
At what point did you sense hostility? As I watched, the whole thread was wonderfully mind-altering!
I can’t help it if you don’t know how to write.
Were those my dad’s 6-to-1 martinis?
Well, shit, it’s 11:17 and I’m drunk again, so here we go:
Living easy, living free
Season ticket on a one-way ride
Asking nothing, leave me be
Taking everything in my stride
Don’t need reason, don’t need rhyme
Ain’t nothing I would rather do
Going down, party time
My friends are gonna be there too
I’m on the highway to hell
No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody’s gonna slow me down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody’s gonna mess me round
Hey Satan, payed my dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey Momma, look at me
I’m on my way to the promised land
I’m on the highway to hell
(Don’t stop me)
And I’m going down, all the way down
I’m on the highway to hell
CC – take a break!
Jeff – You were probably editing the post when all of a sudden the post was red-lined, then not, then the whole thread was struck (snuffed)! Then not! Weird! You probably didn’t see it from your end.
(I’ve also been reading your stuff at DU. Wow!)
What the heck are you talking about, Diana? Is that blog stuff that the rest of us don’t understand?
And you take a break.
CC – you seem to have missed Subtilty 101.
Since I’m here, an intervention might be appropriate.
You’ve managed to insult the thread with outlandish remarks:
and posting drunken lyrics:
You can be witty at times, but, tonight you shot your load.
Calm down and come back later – sober.
That was a joke, my dear. I’m neither drunk nor outlandish. Well, maybe I’m outlandish.
Did you notice the smiley face?
Christ almighty.
And how can you insult a thread?
If you guys don’t realize that I’m almost always kidding, maybe I should go somewhere else.
Oh yeah, and thanks for letting me know that I can be witty at times.
No, CC, we do like you here, but you tend to go off on maniacal wild rants.
I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’ll be sure to put the fact that I can be witty at times on my resume.
Sorry to have offended, Craig.
You said “drunk”, I expected you were being straight with us.
I get your drift.
I hope you got Jeff’s:
and
When “Fuck it!” is the last word, I get concerned.
We’re cool.
Dont listen to them CC.. I wasnt the least bit offended and I really dig the virtual ACDC concert… We miss you too Bon, you son of a bitch. And as for being drunk, stoned or sober.. who gives a rats ass ?
Right on ! I second that.. I dig the perpetual ACDC studio set and am totally cool with Manic… and I miss Bon Scott too, drunken drunk himself to death asshole that he was.. and if I could mix alchohol with the half dozen brain fixing meds I have to take and pills that say EEEEEEEEE, I’d be drunk as a f*ckin’ monkey right now.. at least then I’d have an excuse for my crappy junior college’esque writing… and.. and.. whatever.. just keep writing… got to.. I need a Xanax…
oh,.. and.. and Highway to Hell rocks!
Oh Jeff, how about “ The door via which she egressed “… too stiff sounding?
Sigh.
Doxberry Charlie.
I would like a porn name which makes me sound a little… larger…
“Word”. Just “word”.
Butthead: huh-huh huh-huh huh-huh
he said ’Stiff‘ huh-huh
Beavis: ya, ya.. he said ’Stiff‘..
like a stiff 8” gay porn cock of lies..
ha ha ha ha ha
Butthead: Shut up Beavis, you buttmunch !
Shouldn’t we always assume that everybody is always being funny unless we have compelling evidence to the contrary?
When Jeff says “fuck it”, I cringe.
Poopie! I have this nice baby here and I ate Mexican for dinner and waaaaay too much salsa and now there’s poopie!
Poopie poopie poopie poopie.
There. Did it work?
Sorry. Wrong incantation. Here we go:
“Satchel just had a BIG poopie! I think from his turkey and garden vegetable dinner, but I suppose some of it is formula and some of it is cottage cheese.
I cleaned him and dried him and tickled his tummy…he’s so HAPPY now!”
Hell, if I had someone to clean me & dry me and tickle my tummy, I’d be happy too… Oh, and Turkey and garden vegetables go right through me as well but we baboons dont were Pampers.. we just let it fly wherever…
(little known fact: Baboons like belly scratching every bit as much as dogs.. maybe more.. )
wear Pampers.. not were pampers.. who edited my post to make me look stupid?
Citizen journalists demand Poo Pie.
epilogue:
And he thought to himself “Fuck, that’s the last time I roll a joint using a list of counted blessings. That shit was harsh.”