The Tragic Story of the Fitting Room Fiasco

Howard never liked shopping. Not for anything, but particularly not for clothes. He had always thought it to be a waste of his time. Every so often he found himself obligated to shop though, and it was at these times that he left his house with the full intention to come back as soon as possible. He’d take public transportation (he never liked driving either), arrive at the nearest shopping center, buy what he needed and leave before he felt that he had been somehow polluted with some sort of malicious virus that seemed to define consumerism. In other words, Howard was not a very good American.

One day he went into fitting room with a shirt he had picked out at random. He seemed sure that this particular shirt looked fine on him and, seeing as how it hugged his figure quite well, decided to go pay for it. As he was exiting the fitting room, a particularly beautiful woman came up to him and told him that the shirt did not look good on him. Howard, not willing to shop again for another shirt, told her that it looked great and that she should mind her own business. Lisa, the girl, took great offense to Howard’s shrewd manner, and Howard replied that it was Lisa who was being a shrew. What gave her the right to tell perfect strangers what clothes they should or should not wear? He thought he looked perfectly fine in the shirt and she had no right to intervene with any sort of opinion. Clearly Howard was not a woman pleaser. Lisa, exasperated, tried to point out to Howard that she would not have said anything had the shirt not looked so utterly ridiculous on him. Ignoring her, and now clearly exasperated himself, Howard went to the cash register and paid for his new shirt. So sure of himself he was that he decided to buy the store’s entire stock of the shirt and then went out and bought every store’s stock of the shirt. Soon, the only shirt Howard owned was that ugly Hawaiian shirt with the little leaves on it. All his credit cards were maxed out and it would be a long time before he even set foot in a store to buy anything again, let alone shirts.

One day, while walking down the street, Howard bumped into Lisa wearing the only type of shirt he owned. She asked him how he was doing and he was quite surprised that she didn’t decide to ignore the casual encounter. A bit of chit chat revealed that Howard had not been intimate with a woman in a very long time, and thus he did not believe that his shirt preference had anything to do with the matter because he’d been wearing a variety of other shirts other times that he’d been rejected. Lisa, taking a good long hard look at him, expressed that she thought that perhaps he was right and indeed he could not look much better in anything else. Dismayed, Howard went home and cried into his many pillows, all of which were adorned with the same shirt he was wearing.

Many years passed until Howard was able to pay back his credit card debt. When he finally did, a few more months passed and finally the last of his ugly Hawaiian shirts became completely unwearable. The time that he disliked the most had come again. So, like many years before, Howard got on the nearest form of public transportation, went into the nearest clothing store and picked out a shirt his size completely at random and tried it on.

While in the fitting room he heard shooting outside. He was afraid of going out so he just let the terrorists destroy the store. After a while the shooting stopped and Howard looked outside to see if he could find any sign of life. The struggle had taken out almost every person working or visiting the mall. The guards were dead, the people who work at the counters were dead, even the people who sell various types of ice cream at the entrance had been killed. The police hadn’t arrived yet and Howard found himself the only person at all in the entire mall. Feeling pragmatic, and having absolutely no sympathy or empathy for the pain of others, Howard went into his chosen clothing store and took out every single shirt they owned in his size.

When he got home he tried on every single one of them and took a picture. After an extensive search for Lisa on the internet, he was able to find her email address. That very night her email was flooded with pictures of Howard wearing one shirt after another in an effort to prove to her that he could indeed look better wearing something else.

She liked the navy blue one with drawings of parakeets on it.

The Studio Cassette

The_Piano signed on at 7:34:12 PM.
The_Piano (7:40:29 PM): Christine, thank God you’re on. Are you at the studio?
The_Piano (7:40:36 PM): I’ve been trying to write you like crazy. Look, I’ve got an issue.
The_Piano (7:40:44 PM): So I kind of lost a tape there, and I need you to send me the demo back. They’re going to kill me if they find out I don’t have the tape with me, please.
The_Piano (7:40:48 PM): Hello?!?!?! Why aren’t you answering!?!?
The_Piano (7:40:52 PM): What’s the matter with you?!?!
nowshesaturtle221 (7:44:08 PM): Jesus Christ, give a gurl a moment will ya?
The_Piano (7:44:22 PM): Yeah, that’s fine for you to say, your ass isn’t about to fry.
The_Piano (7:44:24 PM): You have no idea how much pressure I’m under here. Can you just drive as fast as you can to the studio?
nowshesaturtle221 (7:44:44 PM): I am at the studio
nowshesaturtle221 (7:46:18 PM): Whats it to you?
The_Piano (7:46:33 PM): DIDN’T I JUST SAY!?!?!?!
nowshesaturtle221 (7:46:54 PM): Oh you were serious about that?
nowshesaturtle221 (7:47:01 PM): I didn’t think you’d actually have the balls to ask me for anything.
The_Piano (7:47:31 PM): begging
nowshesaturtle221 (7:47:49 PM): whatev
nowshesaturtle221 (7:48:08 PM): look Ryan, I dun have what you need.
The_Piano (7:48:17 PM): What the hell do you mean!?!? It’s AT the studio, all you gotta do is get the tape, pass it to the computer and mail it to me. Look, your ass is on the line too here you know?
nowshesaturtle221 (7:49:11 PM): oi internet just decided to go slow-mo
The_Piano (7:49:38 PM): slow-mo!?!? slow-mo!?!?
The_Piano (7:49:47 PM): Christine, please, please don’t leave me hanging like this.
nowshesaturtle221 (7:52:48 PM): what do you mean my ass is on the line too?
The_Piano (7:55:35 PM): I mean, I can just as easily tell the boss you didn’t help out and because of you we lost the account.
nowshesaturtle221 (7:56:00 PM): Enjoy, explaining that you forgot the tape in the first place.
nowshesaturtle221 (7:56:26 PM): Why did they bring the thing in a tape, btw?
The_Piano (7:56:34 PM): long story
nowshesaturtle221 (7:59:20 PM): lolz, your gonna fry!
The_Piano (7:59:57 PM): It’s spelled you’re.
The_Piano (8:00:04 PM): Please help?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:00:22 PM): If you werrent correcting me all the time maybe Id considered it...
The_Piano (8:03:58 PM): Consider it.
The_Piano (8:04:14 PM): I mean, whatever. Look, please, just do what I’m asking of you.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:04:57 PM): why didn’t the boss take me to NYC too?
The_Piano (8:05:49 PM): Is that what this is about?!!?!?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:06:57 PM): wateves.
The_Piano (8:08:33 PM): Aren’t you like twenty three!?!? Why are you acting and talking like a freaking twelve year old?!?!
nowshesaturtle221 (8:09:29 PM): Oh, insulting me. thats how evryune gets on my good side ;)
nowshesaturtle221 (8:10:32 PM): Look, I’m not going to just save your butt here.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:13:48 PM): im kinda enjoying the whole ordeal. ok?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:13:51 PM): Is that so bad?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:14:01 PM): Hello!?!?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:14:27 PM): Where’d you go?
The_Piano (8:17:29 PM): I was looking for the tape elsewhere. Couldn’t find it.
The_Piano (8:17:36 PM): Look, the meeting’s in like three hours. Do you think they’ll find it funny that we flew all the the way out here to present them the new artists for this year and we don’t even have the tape for one of them!?!?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:18:33 PM): but hes not even like the main guy.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:22:09 PM): hes just the guy YOU happen to like.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:23:35 PM): so your pretty much screwed
nowshesaturtle221 (8:23:56 PM): i.e all your base are belong to me. :)
The_Piano (8:24:38 PM): fuck you.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:25:42 PM): now who’s being infantile?
The_Piano (8:26:01 PM): You think is all a sack of lulz or something?
The_Piano (8:26:08 PM): This is my job on the line. This is my life. Look, it costs you nothing.
The_Piano (8:26:12 PM): Literally, nothing.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:26:50 PM): I just dont feel like doing it, way dont you call the boss and ask him to order me?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:27:01 PM): *why>way
The_Piano (8:27:39 PM): Yeah, sure, that sounds reasonable. Here you go boss, the perfect foundation to fire me, in a golden plate.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:28:17 PM): lulz
The_Piano (8:28:27 PM): THIS ISN’T FUNNY CHRISTINE!
The_Piano (8:28:40 PM): Everyone’s allowed one mistake, just help me out this once.
The_Piano (8:28:45 PM): Is it that much to ask?
The_Piano (8:28:53 PM): Really?
The_Piano (8:28:57 PM): Is it?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:29:02 PM): why dint you just carry a digital copy with you?
The_Piano (8:30:11 PM): I forgot to make one. They were adament about it being on a cassette and so I just figured we’d play the cassette. Look, if you send me the Mp3 I can pass back unto a cassette here and nobody will tell the difference.
The_Piano (8:30:20 PM): We’ll get off scot free.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:30:56 PM): you’ll get off scot free, whats in it for me?
The_Piano (8:31:14 PM): My eternal love and appreciation?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:32:15 PM): besides dat.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:32:44 PM): you should really give me that anyway, on top of something to sweeten the deal.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:34:02 PM): take me to Hershey Park or something ;)
nowshesaturtle221 (8:34:12 PM): Oh right you dont like rides
nowshesaturtle221 (8:34:31 PM): ever been to philly?
The_Piano (8:36:32 PM): HERSHEY PARK!?!?! SERIOUSLY!??! YOU’RE 23 CHRISTINE!
The_Piano (8:36:42 PM): Look, I just need you to be a decent human being for once. Is that so much to ask? Why are you giving me such a hard time?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:36:51 PM): Oh no, that is mild beyond mild.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:37:37 PM): if you want to see hard, you can see hard.
The_Piano (8:38:34 PM): fine, I’ll take you to Hershey Park
The_Piano (8:38:43 PM): I’m sorry the boss didn’t choose you to come to NYC with us.
The_Piano (8:38:50 PM): You’re acting a little weird, but whatever.
The_Piano (8:38:51 PM): Now, pretty please with sugar on top, can you help me?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:39:08 PM): um....let me think about it...
The_Piano (8:40:37 PM): You’re serious?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:41:09 PM): What do you mean I’m being weird?
The_Piano (8:41:55 PM): FUCK CHRISTINE! I’m sorry, ok? You’re not weird. You’re perfect. Just go and transfer the cassette, for the love of God.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:42:31 PM): dont cuz liek that
nowshesaturtle221 (8:43:07 PM): why would you cuz like that?
The_Piano (8:43:19 PM): Because I’m under a lot of pressure and you’re not being helpful at all?
The_Piano (8:43:23 PM): And what the fuck do you mean cuz like that?! What is WRONG with you?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:43:57 PM): Yes, your the one cuzing and somethings the matter with me
The_Piano (8:44:10 PM): You’re.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:45:15 PM): Your what?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:46:05 PM): Oh, you correcting me again. i told you i dint liake that.
The_Piano (8:46:25 PM): You’re going to make me blow my brains out.
The_Piano (8:46:31 PM): What did I ever do to make you do this?
The_Piano (8:46:45 PM): Is it really my fault the boss didn’t choose you to come on this trip?
The_Piano (8:46:51 PM): Why would you dangle me like this? I already tried wrtiting everyone else, nobody is at the studio. PLEASE help.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:47:24 PM): Do you think I’m sexy?
The_Piano (8:48:02 PM): Wow.
The_Piano (8:48:08 PM): Where the fuck did that come from?
The_Piano (8:48:11 PM): Right now, I think you’re off your rocker.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:49:20 PM): you’re opinion matters to me.
The_Piano (8:50:53 PM): That time it was your. Seriously, are you just acting or something? Is this all a big joke to you?
The_Piano (8:51:00 PM): How do I make you understand that this is my carreer and my life on the line?
The_Piano (8:51:02 PM): It isn’t some play thing, and I am NOT joking around.
The_Piano (8:51:16 PM): Honestly? You’re getting on my nerves lately.
The_Piano (8:51:27 PM): Actually, with this conversation. So no, you’re not being “sexy”.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:51:31 PM): what if i pressed my boobs together more?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:52:03 PM): lulz
nowshesaturtle221 (8:52:22 PM): jk
nowshesaturtle221 (8:54:15 PM): so why are they so obsessed with it being a casset?
The_Piano (8:54:32 PM): Cassette.
The_Piano (8:54:34 PM): It’s because they say they’re trying to bring music back to its roots and they’re trying to do a whole thing against digital music and whatever. I don’t really see what kid of message they’re sending, but I guess if it makes the client happy, fine with me.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:54:42 PM): right now you should be tryin to make me happy.
The_Piano (8:55:41 PM): I really cannot understand why you’re doing this.
nowshesaturtle221 (8:56:20 PM): Say, say, I can haz my cassete thingey now?
The_Piano (8:56:48 PM): You’re kidding.
The_Piano (8:57:01 PM): .... fine. Can I have my cassette thingey now?
nowshesaturtle221 (8:58:15 PM): no not laike that. It has to be “I can haz my cassette thingey now”?
The_Piano (8:59:00 PM): So I can just copy and paste what you wrote.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:00:35 PM): watevez.
The_Piano (9:01:46 PM): “I can haz my cassette thingey now”?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:01:58 PM): good boy.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:02:12 PM): what else will you do? will you bark like a dog?
The_Piano (9:02:11 PM): no, of course not
The_Piano (9:02:16 PM): I mean, I guess, fine.
The_Piano (9:02:21 PM): Bow wow.
The_Piano (9:02:21 PM): Is that it?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:03:03 PM): No, thats not enough. You have really beg.
The_Piano (9:03:19 PM): Look Christine, you clearly realize that you have me by the balls. Can you just start passing the cassette to Mp3 and meanwhile I’ll do whatever you ask?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:03:57 PM): okays!
The_Piano (9:04:15 PM): whew.
The_Piano (9:04:15 PM): good.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:04:32 PM): iz ok. im passing your thingey now.
The_Piano (9:05:32 PM): How did it take you only a minute to set up everything
The_Piano (9:05:46 PM): ?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:06:07 PM): Ah, ok.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:07:51 PM): now I have it all ready, I only had it a little ready before.
The_Piano (9:08:42 PM): What the hell do you mean?
The_Piano (9:08:49 PM): Are you on something Christine? Are you passing the tape to digital or not?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:09:31 PM): yea, yea, keep your pants on.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:10:14 PM): or do you? lulz!
The_Piano (9:10:45 PM): What does that even mean!?
The_Piano (9:10:50 PM): Why do you keep coming on to me like this?
The_Piano (9:10:56 PM): You know, you could get in trouble for something like sexual harrasment.
The_Piano (9:11:02 PM): You really should cool it down a little, this can’t be good for either of us.
The_Piano (9:11:06 PM): Honestly, are you drunk? You can tell me if you’re drunk. Are you drunk?
The_Piano (9:11:09 PM): Just come clean about it and it won’t be a big deal to anybody.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:12:15 PM): i am most certainly not even a little bit drunk – no sireeboob-
nowshesaturtle221 (9:12:38 PM): sireeboob > seribob
The_Piano (9:12:56 PM): Fine Christine, I’l just wait.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:13:00 PM): besides they dont do sexual harrasment if its a woman. its not allowed.
The_Piano (9:13:05 PM): What the hell are you talking about? It completely is sexual harrasment if a woman does it.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:13:21 PM): oh, but iz totally cool. Ive seen you look at my big knockers. you want me all night long, so how can i be the one doing the harrasment?
The_Piano (9:14:19 PM): What are you talking about Christine?
The_Piano (9:14:24 PM): Look, I don’t see you that way. You’re a co-worker, I won’t be a part of this, this conversation could be very compromising.
The_Piano (9:14:25 PM): Just do what I tell you and I’ll wait.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:14:51 PM): wut does compromising mean?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:15:33 PM): like there will be a compromise about what?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:15:55 PM): i dont remember that word
The_Piano (9:15:59 PM): It just means that we could get in a lot of trouble for having this conversation.
The_Piano (9:16:02 PM): And apparently you’re acting retarded.
The_Piano (9:16:08 PM): except you don't work without pressure
The_Piano (9:16:11 PM): I really fail to understand you, like, at all.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:17:57 PM): Im just doing it for the lulz. oh, your thingey died somehow. it like, exploded. its on fire now. watevez. do you think my little sister is pretty?
The_Piano (9:18:53 PM): WHAT?!?!?!
nowshesaturtle221 (9:21:55 PM): i mean, she’s a bit young and everything, and she doesnt have any boobies liek me or anything, but, shes kinda cute right?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:22:37 PM): liek, if you were in her class, youd totally like her and not that bitch Samantha, right?
The_Piano (9:22:55 PM): Fuck. Me.
The_Piano (9:22:56 PM): Is this Amanda?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:23:51 PM): no...
nowshesaturtle221 (9:25:09 PM): and if it was, why are you cuzzing around my lil sister?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:25:31 PM): hello?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:25:47 PM): why do you alwayz has to go? your thingey is on fire! fire! come savez it!
The_Piano (9:26:45 PM): I spoke with your sister on the phone. Amanda, get off Christine’s account.
The_Piano (9:26:57 PM): Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in young girl?
The_Piano (9:27:05 PM): Your sister is going to have a cow when she comes around there.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:27:29 PM): you aint my daddy, you cant tell if im in trouble or not. you know all those stupid things you guys thinnk are so cool? You know what my daddy sayss?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:27:37 PM): He calls it cheesy.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:28:04 PM): He thinks you guys are all a bunch of hack nad he dont care none that Christine is wasting all her time with you bunch of lazy no good for nobody doing goodheckers that dont know what your doin
The_Piano (9:28:20 PM): Bye now, Amanda. I hope wasting my time was adventicious for you somehow.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:29:48 PM): I have never heard that word in my life.
The_Piano signed off at 9:29:49 PM.
The_Piano signed on at 9:30:00 PM.
The_Piano (9:30:08 PM): Is it actually you now Christine?
The_Piano (9:30:10 PM): Or is this still Amanda?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:30:32 PM): It’s me now. Why’d you sign off?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:32:10 PM): And why are you trying to sound so smart around my little sister? I’m not even sure that’s the proper use of the word adventicious.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:38:23 PM): Are you trying to impress a twelve year old by any chance? Because that’d be a new low even for you Ryan.
The_Piano (9:38:55 PM): I didn’t sign off, I blocked you. Or your sister rather. As soon as I did I got your text that you’d gotten your account back and I signed on again.
The_Piano (9:39:02 PM): I wasn’t trying to sound smart to your sister, that’s jus the first word that came into my mind to describe that particular situation. Do you have any better ideas?
The_Piano (9:39:10 PM): I gotta admit though, I was watching this Woody Allen comedy called...I forget. Oh yeah, Anything Else. It’s got the kid from American Pie in it. What’s his name? Whatever. Anyway, they use the word there and I thought it sounded like a good word so why not adopt it?
The_Piano (9:39:27 PM): I wasn’t trying to impress anyone
The_Piano (9:39:30 PM): Much less your little sister
The_Piano (9:39:40 PM): HellO?
The_Piano (9:40:00 PM): You haven’t written back in like two minutes.
The_Piano (9:40:12 PM): Are you there?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:41:16 PM): Yes, of course I’m here. It was like one minute, but we don’t all write like we’re about to be eaten by piranhas.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:42:29 PM): Anyway, didn’t you have some emergency with a cassette at the studio? How are you solving that?
The_Piano (9:44:33 PM): Finally got ahold of somebody else that was there to do it for me.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:46:24 PM): Who?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:46:41 PM): Oh, and I think you were using adventicious wrong. You can’t just take any word from a movie and try to use it in every day use.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:47:17 PM): Seriously, pick up a dictionary.
The_Piano (9:51:38 PM): Mike.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:52:29 PM): Mike what?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:52:56 PM): Oh, you meant the person that helped you out. Well, I’m glad all that was sorted. Sorry about my sister. It’s the last time I’m leaving my AIM logged on, I can promise you that.
The_Piano (9:53:45 PM): She asked me some really weird questions, specially sexual stuff and stuff about boobs. You should really have her checked out or something, that girl is not normal. Adolescence can be a terrible thing in the wrong hands.
The_Piano (9:53:49 PM): Don’t get me wrong, she’s a nice girl and all, but all those hormones have her going crazy. Also I think she dislikes some girl named Samantha. And for the love of God she needs to have her spelling and grammar checked out, it’s really no good for anyone that she types like a neanderthal, although I guess it’s helpful if she ever tries to impersonate you again.
The_Piano (9:53:53 PM): It’s really a wonder that it took me so long to realize it wasn’t really you. I just used really twice there. Dumb of me. Look, I’m sorry if I’m typing too much but I’m really nervous. I wasted over and hour trying to get things done through your sister and she was just yanking my chain along the whole time. Seriously, you should punish her or something for that. Obviously it’s not my place but it was a real harm done to me and the company. Of course, I admit it’s mostly my fault for losing the cassette and then being fooled by a twelve year old for so long, but dammit, that’s just me doing my best. I should’ve been tipped off by the bad spelling and the cuzzing thing. I actually feel really stupid and ashamed that I didn’t realize it before. Does this kind of thing happen often?
The_Piano (9:53:54 PM): I mean, she pulling these kind of pranks?
nowshesaturtle221 (9:54:05 PM): Yeah, she kind of does it all the time. It’s a pain in the ass. We’ll definetly look into some sort of punishment or something. Anyway, didn’t you have to go?
The_Piano (9:54:04 PM): Yeah, I do. I hope Mike did everything exactly how I said.
nowshesaturtle221 (9:54:10 PM): He’s not stupid you know.
The_Piano (9:54:17 PM): Yeah, right now the only one that feel like an idiot is me.
The_Piano (9:54:18 PM): bye
nowshesaturtle221 (9:54:24 PM): bye
The_Piano signed off at 9:54:32 PM.

The Punishment

Bob is freezing under the rain. It’s winter. Again and again he pushes the button for his spaceship to appear and it doesn’t. He’s failed. Will he face a court martial now? Be punished? How? All he’s done is refuse to hurt a child. A freaking youngling! If he has to rot in jail defending the right to not hurt children, so be it.

His human body gets colder and colder. Goosebumps run up and down. He presses the button again and again. He doesn’t even have an umbrella. Kicking the ground, he hates humans for a minute. He hates the compassion that he feels for them that stops him from doing what he’s done to a dozen other species.

A spaceship arrives. It’s not his. Time to face the music. Someone, somewhere, always gets punished for being too kind.

Eduardo at Chuck-E-Cheese

Eduardo slowly puts a Cheesey Pop into his mouth.

He is at Chuck-E-Cheese, a pizza joint/play place filled with games for kids. They’re celebrating his youngest’s birthday. His wife is next to him. She is talking to the moms and dads of the other kids. Absentmindedly, Eduardo puts another slice into his mouth. His wife pokes him in the ribs, a clear sign that he should stop eating like a pig. He ignores her and keeps shoving food down his throat. His mind wanders. This is what we hear:

“That Cindy’s a pretty nice redhead. Look at those thighs, goddam. It’s a wonder she’s had as many kids as my Cecile. Why do some women let themselves go after a certain number of kids? Christ, speak of the devil. They always want money. Here you go kid, it’s your birthday, knock yourself out. Meanwhile, check out that Cindy’s thighs. Yeah baby, move that skirt up a little. Goddam Cecile, stop poking me in the ribs. Ok, so I’m eating a lot, what’s it to you? I’m so fucking tired. Is there any way to keep these kids from screaming? I mean, seriously, hours and hours hearing the animals yell at me and I gotta come home to this? I wish children weren’t our main customers. Dealing with them at work, then at home. I guess Emile’ll only turn six once, might as well let him have it. Here comes the waitress. Hello, this girl’s gotta be at least eighteen right? Can anyone tell that I’m staring? I’ll hide it by taking a slice out of this pizza. Was she just looking at me? Was that a bit of a flirtation there going on? Here’s your extra pepperoni... and some love.”

Eduardo laughs to himself and all the other parents around him turn around to see what he’s laughing at. Cecilia pokes him in the ribs harder than she’s done all night. Eduardo excuses himself. Still smiling, he wipes some sauce off his chin and gets up. Cecilia glares at him and he explains that he has to go the bathroom. On his way there he sees his kids. The oldest (eight) is picking on the birthday boy. His first fatherly incstinct is to go stop it, but then he remembers that he used to be an older brother too. Sometimes, a little picking on isn’t that bad. It builds character. He thinks of himself at that age, dreams and hopes and such. As he opens the door to the bathroom, we interrupt him midthought:

“...it’s not that I don’t like my job, my job’s fine. Owning a pet shop isn’t terrible. For one thing, I own it. I’m not anybody’s employee. I kind of wish I’d finished veterinary school though. How cool would that be? Dr. Eduardo. Maybe then I’d get the respect I deserve. When did I quit exactly? Third year? Second year? Well, it’s complicated because I did get some higher courses in my first year. Remember that blonde from fourth? Jesus, I wonder what she’s up to.”

He unzips his pants and realizes he’s aroused. He pees despite the issue.

“Does it count as cheating if I’m thinking of other women when I fuck my wife? No, it can’t. I’d never tell her about it though. I’m sure she thinks of other men too, so there. It’s not that I’m doing anything that bad. I fucking hate that therapist, I’m really glad we don’t go there anymore. Two sessions was enough to tell she was a man-hating remora. What the hell, first she says to tell her what I’m thinking of and when I do I get reprimanded. That can’t be healthy or clinical. I hate professionals with their own agenda. I wonder who’d I be fucking if I’d just followed through with that whole band thing. I should buy a new bass, I’m sure with a bit of practice I could get back on the horse again. Yeah, I’d like to get on some bitches. Why the hell am I so horny? When was the last time Cecile and I fucked? Can’t remember. Wasn’t that long ago. She’s still fine, though. She’s nothing like when she was young. I’d love to see all those “upper class” women’s faces back there if I told them I met Cecile at a Blood Hound Gang concert. And her plan was to sleep with a roadie! And she confused me with one of the band when I was just trying to get Jimmy Pop to sign my bass!”

Eduardo laughs hard as he zips his pants back up. The man in the urinal next to him looks at Eduardo very uncomfortable. Eduardo waves his hand at him and laughs. The man stares at his urinal as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Still laughing at the memory, Eduardo opens the water faucet to wash his hands. As the cold water runs around his skin, the laughter begins to die down. He takes some of the clear liquid and splashes it over his face. The water drips down his chin and he sees himself in the mirror. In his own eyes, he sees the reflection of his father staring back at him. We eavesdrop:

“I’m old. Fuck, fuck, I’m old. Look at those bags under my eyes. Was that there yesterday?”

He touches the edges of his eyes.

“What the hell is this? Lines? I look beat up for a thirty one year old. To think I was twenty three when Charlie was born. Twenty five when Cecile had Emile. Twenty five! Where did my youth go? I’m still thirty though. I could bolt. I could just leave them, forget them, fuck it. Plenty of men do it. It’s a wonder I’ve stuck around as long as I have. Just get the old bass out of the garage, maybe buy a new one, go out. Someone’ll want a bass player somewhere. And with business experience too! I should leave most of the money, though. No sense leaving Cecile to fend for herself. Just leave. Just...”

Eduardo breathes in deep. The man who was using the urinal next to his leaves. He is alone in the bathroom. Suddenly, the waitress that had been looking at him before bursts into the bathroom. Embarrased, Eduardo sputters that this is the men’s room. She replies that she knows and locks the door behind her. Eduardo stares blankly. She comes up to him, slowly showing the skin underneath her Chuck-E-Cheese-employee shirt. His heart is beating like it’s going to leave his chest. His mouth is horribly dry.When she gets up to him, she whispers something into his ear. Through his ear we go then, and enter his mind once more.

“A fan? A fan? We still have fans? How can a girl this young be a fan of a band older than her? That just...that doesn’t....”

She touches his crotch. Slowly, clearly seeing that he doesn’t believe her, she takes out her cellphone from between her breasts. He sees, and yet still doesn’t believe. The background on her phone is the band’s logo. With a quick movement of her fingers she shows him a video of one of the twenty of so concerts they ever played. She explains that her aunt was a huge fan. She’d grown up listening to their only self released cassette. When she saw him at the table she could hardly believe her luck. He mutters something about being married and she answers by sticking her tongue into his ear. Her leg wraps around him. He is clearly hyperventilating, completely losing control of the situation.

“Am I dead? Is this some sort of fantasy? Shit, I fell asleep at the table. Come on Cecile, wake me. Wake me. This is going to be embarrasing as shit. Light levels. In a dream you can’t adjust light levels, I saw it in a movie once. If the light doesn’t change, I’m dreaming.”

Feebly Eduardo pushes the young girl off him and rushes towards a light switch in the bathroom. He flips it several times and the light turns on and off. She giggles and thinks it’s some sort of crazy sex thing. She begs him to hurry and reaches over to unbuckle his pants.

“Just let go. Just let go. Enjoy it, it’s actually happening. All your fantasies. Now you can leave your wife. Just up and leave her. Bye, Cecile. No more yelling, no more hysterical children. No more having to pick them up from school. No more supporting Cecile’s projects. No more her supporting mine. No more stupid making love all quiet at three AM so the kids don’t wake up. No more sweet making love all quiet at three AM so the kids don’t wake up. No more screaming. No more laughing. No more getting awoken at five in the morning on Christmas Day by monsters jumping on my bed. No more holding Cecile when she’s crying. No more kissing rapidly before work. No more nagging, thank God, no more nagging. Just let go. Just...”

The girl’s hand is touching his nipples now. Eduardo shakes his head like he’s trying to dry his hair. She looks confused. He pushes her away, hard this time. He buckles his pants back up, he puts his shirt inside his pants. She just stares. He goes for the door. She stops him. He tries to push her aside. She just touches her breasts and leans torwards him. He pushes her aside firmly and opens the bahtroom door.

Sitting with his wife and the other kids’ moms and dads, he takes her hand into his. He closes his eyes and leans his head on her shoulder. She understands he’s very tired from work. He knows he’s home.

Something to Fear

As he entered the bathroom, the last thing on Henry’s mind was an alternate universe. He had no idea there was an Earth where the United States had invented an atomic bomb, or that they had both low fat frogurt and velcro shoes.

What worried Henry as he entered the bathroom was the same thing that had worried his father, and his father’s father for generations. The Allies had indeed won World War Two, but without the help of the atomic bomb they’d been forced to invent an even more powerful weapon. A scientist, whose name is lost to obscurity in another Earth, had managed to invent a small fly that could detect human urine. That fly would smell the urine and enter the human body through the first orifice it found until it drove the person mad or killed it from the inside.

When the fly had been first released, its genetic design had been so that it only entered the body of the Japanese. Based on the Japanese diet, the designer of the fly had been able to program it to only attack the people whose urine contained certain proteins, enzymes and vitamins, in a specific combination. The attack was a massive success and millions of Japanese citizens died, not to mention the constant fear and paranoia of not being able to go to the bathroom.

A hundred years later, the fly has horribly mutated and has wiped out almost a third of the World Population. Trillions and trillions of these incredibly vicious flies live all over the world and seek out humans to penetrate, infest and reproduce in. They can survive in the coldest and warmest climates, they are resistant to every known toxin, there is nothing at all that can kill them.

It is with this in mind that Henry enters his nearest public bathroom. He sprays the area surrounding him with the latest gas meant to kill the fly (although everyone knows it doesn’t work) and unzips his pants. Fearfully he begins to pee and looks around everywhere. Rapidly, he hides his member and zips his pants back up. He is safe, for now.

On that Earth, like on this Earth, humanity is living in constant fear. Only theirs' is founded.

Joe Kennedy’s Bidding

*Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION! No part of it is true, although it uses the real names of historical characters. NONE of it should be taken as fact or actual events.

Few people know this about John Fitzgerald Kennedy, but after the war and before he became president, he was the protagonist of an incident at a very exclusive little department store in Queens, New York.

John was short on temper that day. He had disagreed with his father, Joe, regarding a matter of special importance to him. Furthermore, his brothers hadn’t really backed him up, which always put John on edge. The oldest of the Kennedy clan had been killed in the war. This morning, Joe had informed John he was looking at him to more or less occupy Joe Jr’s place. John was not at all thrilled at the prospect.

As he walked into the store he had nothing like a smile on his face. While usually he reserved a warm welcome for everyone he met, today he was fuming. He was looking to buy what he’d been sent to buy (he didn’t even want to leave the house) and get out of there. Over and over he repeated in his head that whatever it was that his father had said about humility was bullshit. Fuck humility, he wished that they’d just sent one of the many maids to buy the stupid thing. A grown man still taking orders from his father, can you believe it? Well, it was just a small way to show him who was really in charge.

There was a young boy helping out around the store, he couldn’t have been older than seventeen. He kept fumbling about and couldn’t find what John was looking for. Impatient and furious, John hurried him up. The kid got more nervous. Nobody had ever asked for that particular item because, first of all, it was ridiculously expensive, and second of all, it was extremely rare.

There were only two of them in New York at the time, in fact, it being so rare was the reason Joe had sent John to go buy it in the first place. One of the few remaining glass ornaments originally part of a collection that dated back almost a hundred years.

This store, known only to those who know about exclusive stores, carried exactly one of them. The other six were spread across the United States, and only one other was in New York. The young kid knew that what he was looking for was precious. Moreover, he had a pretty good idea who John was and the combined pressure could barely let him breathe, let alone think clearly. When he’d finally found the delicate glass heirloom he began walking back to John as carefully as he could. John, not wanting to spend one more second in the place, hurried the kid along. When he was almost in front of his client, the kid tripped and fell on his face. The heirloom broke into a million pieces.

John saw the kid’s face on the floor. Horror washed over it, almost like the kind he’d seen during the war. The kid would have to work a thousand life times to pay that back, but all John could think of was his own white hot rage. Now he’d have to spend even longer, humiliated, running around the city to do his father’s bidding. Without thinking, the honorable John Fitzgerald Kennedy, kicked the kid in the face while he was on the floor. Then he slowly turned over to the shocked owner of the store and demanded the kid be fired immediatly. The old man mumbled something about the kid being his son and John quickly threatened him. Still shocked, he walked over his own kid bleeding on the floor and opened the door for Mr. Kennedy. He promised he’d be personally responsible for the broken item and they’d find some way to pay them back for the trouble.

Having let off a little steam, John got into his limousine and drove around for a few hours looking for the next shop.

*Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION! No part of it is true, although it uses the real names of historical characters. NONE of it should be taken as fact or actual events.

Georges y la Luna

Georges miró por su telescopio por primera vez en 1870. Siendo francés, su motivación principal no era científica sino más bien artística. A Georges le interesaban tres cosas, la buena comida, el buen sexo, y la belleza. De lo primero se había hastiado, y por esa razón, lo segundo le había sido difícil conseguir. La belleza, en particular la belleza de la luna, lo había perseguido desde niño. Fue en ese momento, la primera vez que la vio en un telescopio, que decidió por fin dedicar su vida a ella.

Desde que era muy pequeño, a Georges le había obsesionado la idea de capturar la belleza de la luna. Para comenzar, como es lógico, Georges se dedicó a dibujar y pintar la luna. Al principio su obsesión fue bien vista dentro de la familia, todos pensaban que era una muestra de lo despierto e imaginativo que era el niño. Al compararlo con su hermano, cuya pasión era afeitar gatos, Georges parecía un verdadero santo.

Pasaron los años, como a veces pasan, y la pasión de Georges por la belleza de la luna se empezó a ver cada vez menos saludable en los ojos de sus padres. Para empezar, el niño no tenía gran talento para el dibujo o la pintura, por lo cual su padre siempre trató que el niño se apasionase más bien por el lado científico del asunto. Dios perdona que un hombre se muera de hambre como científico, pero la gente se reiría si fuera artista. Sus bajas notas en la escuela y el colegio detuvieron muy pronto aquel sueño. Segundo, su hermano se había convertido en un gran aprendiz de carnicero y su fama por el pueblo había atraído algo de atención a la familia. Después de aguantar un par de años de que lo trataran como a un vago, y de que su hermano se llevara toda la atención, Georges decidió salir de casa.

Y es así como en 1870, Georges, un hombre joven pero bastante delicado de salud, estableció su primer observatorio de amor y veneración a la luna. Consiente de su limitación artística, Georges intentó escribirle poemas, cuentos y sonetos a la luna. Todos ellos fueron muy mal recibidos, incluso dentro de su creciente club de fanáticos de la luna. A decir verdad, la mayoría de los miembros del club se afiliaban para utilizar el telescopio gratis, y luego mirar lo que ellos quisieran. Sólo el hecho de que el telescopio pertenecía al joven Georges le permitía seguir presidiendo sobre las reuniones, y declamando sus poemas antes del inicio de cada sesión. El desprecio del público lo frustraba profundamente. No les atribuía la culpa a ellos, ni mucho menos se declaraba mal entendido. Él buscaba transmitir la belleza de la luna, y si su público no quedaba absolutamente maravillado es que no estaba transmitiendo bien su emoción.

Pasó del dibujo, a la pintura, a la escritura. Cuando nada de esto le funcionó, utilizando de conejillos de indias a los miembros de su club, montó shows de marionetas, musicales y teatro. Nada lograba capturar ni un tercio de la belleza de la luna. Una de las pocas obras que creó, que llego a tener una cierta aceptación por parte del exigente público, fue una serigrafía de la luna que hizo una noche. Con un espejo logró reflejar la luna sobre una mesa y luego la trazó y la pintó. No obstante, nada de eso le pareció jamás ser suficiente.

Pasaron los años, de nuevo, y Georges se fue volviendo un hombre viejo. Nunca se casó, y con el tiempo su amor por las mujeres fue suplantado por su amor por la luna. Su amor por la comida, su otro gran compañero, no lo había abandonado. Todos que lo conocían se maravillaban por el hecho de que haya llegado a su edad. ¡Quién se hubiera imaginado que sobreviviría a su hermano! Por lo menos él había muerto de manera semi-heroica, corriendo con los toros en España. Georges era sólo el loco del pueblo, y a la gente le preocupaba más él hedor que produciría al morir que su misma ausencia.

A los cincuenta y tantos años vio por primera vez una película. Sus sobrinos-nietos le habían arrastrado a verla, convencidos de que le iba a fascinar. La película se titulaba, “De La Tierra a la Luna”, realizada por un homólogo suyo. Georges la odio con todo su ser. ¡Cómo era posible que semejante parodia corrompa nuestro pueblo! ¡Aparato endemoniado! Y otras expresiones similares eran lo más suave que pasaba por su cabeza y por sus labios cuando pensaba en esa película. Con esta rabieta alienó a los pequeños, que nunca más fueron a llevarlo a nada.

Una noche calurosa de verano de 1910, cuando Georges ya estaba cerca de su muerte, creyó divisar una mujer voluptuosa sobre la superficie de la luna. Lo primero que se le ocurrió fue revisar el maldito telescopio, que a pesar de haberle sido fiel ya cuarenta años, estaba cayéndose a pedazos. No era problema del telescopio. Miró de nuevo y vio de nuevo una mujer voluptuosa sobre la superficie de la luna. Ella lo miró fijamente y con un pequeño gesto lo invitó.

Varias semanas después sus vecinos reportaron un extraño olor. Cuando la policía vino a investigar lo encontraron muerto frente a su telescopio. Todo parecía ser un caso típico de hombre solitario cuyo corazón por fin se rinde frente al peso que lo oprime. Lo único inexplicable para todos los involucrados era la sonrisa de oreja a oreja que tenía el difunto. Los policías, obviamente, no tenían idea de la noche que había pasado en la luna. Fueron los doctores que le hicieron la autopsia quienes descubrieron, al interior del estomago del hombre, una pintura, una partitura musical y un dulce sumamente denso y brillante. La pintura mostraba al hombre con una mujer bailando, comiendo y haciendo el amor sobre la superficie de la luna. Incluso la pintura parecía estar hecha de un material comestible, dulce, que de alguna manera este hombre había logrado tragar completo y sin masticar. La partitura, una vez limpiada y descifrada, fue asumida como la canción que bailaban. El dulce sí nunca pudieron descifrar de donde era ni qué exactamente era. Terminó en un museo, junto a la pintura, con un título que lo describía erróneamente como perla.

¿Y Georges? Por fin logró, en su fugaz momento de amor compartido, capturar algo de la esencia de la belleza que siempre lo había obsesionado. Por qué amor no es amor, si no es amor compartido.