New York's A Go Go And Everything Tastes Nice

"I am the host of a great deal of larceny right there in the midmost of my heart. I don't know what or who planted it there but there it is with roots gone strong and puissant through much exercise."

"Did you say you were a piss ant?"















"No I said puissant, it means strong. You see I had the grand notion to steal a thesaurus one day; fucking bane of my existence it is."

"What's a thesaurus?"

"It's a book written by this English guy named Roget that tells you how to say simple things in a multitude of superfluous modes."

"I got the book and the English guy parts but what did you say after that?"

"Okay I'll say this so you might, with some facileness, comprehend it."

"You sayin' I'm dumb or something?"

"Banish the thought. I scarcely meant to infer anything of that specific ilk."

"Alright that's better. I think?"

"Here goes. Stop me if I lose you at any point."

"I got that loud and clear for sure."

"Good. Okay so this dude Peter Roget, an English guy, his father was Austrian hence the French sounding name, I mean, well I digress..."

"You what?"

"Nothing forget I said it. Okay all this was back in the 1800's. So Roget wrote this book about words. Now Roget was an all around badass. He was a physician, you know a doctor, he was so rad that he even became renowned for his research into the use of laughing gas."

"I know that. You mean nitrous."

"Okay nitrous, right. He also wrote a bunch of scientific journals, lectured, the English even commissioned, I mean asked him to suss out their water system, and so he did, he was also into physiology, the study of life processes and dude wrote a book about that called On Animal and Vegetable Physiology. He was also early on the electricity game. The dude was firing on all cylinders hard."















"Firing hard on all cylinders, hell yeah."

"Then he founded a club called the Society for the Diffusion of Knowledge."

"Damn even the title sounds scary."

"Alright...so here was this doctor and for a hobby he came up with this book. At first it was called the Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases Classified and Arranged so as to Facilitate the Expression of Ideas and Assist in Literary Composition."

"Facilitate, you said that before right? That title is almost as long as book itself."

"Yeah well he kept adding to it and refining it almost every year. It got so deep that his son took over for him and continued to make the book better. Roget kicked in 1869, fucker was ninety."

"All that thinking must be good for you."

"The book didn't even come out until 1911, dude had been gone for a long time by then."

"So what does the book do again?"

"It's like a dictionary, sort of. You see any idiot can sound like a big shot if he has one. You think of a word to say, then you look up the word and find another one in the book that sounds like you are smarter then you are."

"Isn't that kind of like cheating?"

"I told you I had larceny in my heart. I even steal words from this Roget character."

"Why don't you just say what you mean? Why do you think you have to sound like some egg head all the time?"

"There nay be a certain verisimilitude to your query. Perhaps I deem the desideratum concerning the portmanteau of the lexicon precious and inestimable in regard to my procurement of distaff conquest."

"Listen I may not know how you said it but I know you. Basically your saying that by using big words you up your chance in scoring with the ladies."

"Aye but there be unnerroneousness to your cognition."















"Why didn't you just say that?"

"Its all Roget's fault."

Hey Didn't They Film Swingers Here? Part XXXI

The meter read $10.86 and so Rene feeling to the skies with himself tossed the cabbie fifteen and coolly told him to 'let it ride'. As Rene exited the cab driver turned on his interior light and went to work writing in a little log book. 'Damn' thought Rene, 'can't go anywhere without someone taking notes on your actions, this country is going to shit'. Rene walked unnoticed to the backdoor and then entered the restaurant. He wasn't nervous, he never really got nervous but his senses were none the less extremely alert and ready for the night.

His first stop would have to be Sal's. Rene hadn't come by earlier to make the drop as he said he would. He had the bag and he knew that Sal wouldn't bitch too much because he had what Sal wanted and with one good spliff Sal would have forgotten all about it, all about everything in fact. The door to Sal's office was closed so Rene gave it an overzealous rap and then waited a brief second, then again began to bang on it with the same ferocity.

"Jesus hold on will ya."

"Just me Sal, open up."

It was a good moment or two, perhaps longer then need be before Sal opened the door.

"You didn't pinch it did you?"

"Now Sal would I do that to my employer?"

"I'm not your employer. Marty and Elaine made that mistake I just run the joint."

"You're Marty and Elaine's employer aren't you? So technically you're my employer too."

"If that was the case I would have eight sixed you ages ago."

"Surly fucker aren't you?"

"Clam up will ya. Let's see the bag."

Rene gave Sal a cat eating a canary look and threw his arms in the air.

"What ever are you talking about?"

"Shut the fuck up asshole and hand over the bag."

"Let's see the dosh first."

"What, you trying to go street in here? My god this is my office, you work here, do you actually think I'm going to rip you? Eat a large bag of fuck will you Rene."

"You sure are sweet with the words Sal. I think that is the part of you I admire the most, your total command of the spoken word. How much Ivy league time did it take you to acquire such a talent?"

"Enough already Rene. Really."

Sal reached in his desk and pulled out a magazine and some rolling papers. He then took out a check book and began to write. Rene stood idly by. When Sal was finished writing he tore a out check and handed it to Rene.

"Enough with the games cough up the bag."

"What's this. A check?"

"Take it to the bar and have it cashed."

"Using company money to by narcotics...my god Sal you ever think about getting into some puss rehab."

"Hand over the bag bright eyes its a personal check. What you think I'm a reprobate like you?"

"Harsh words my friend, harsh words" said Rene as he was reaching into his pants pulling out a bag of weed from somewhere near his groin. Sal stood up and nearly took Rene's hand off, he grabbed the bag so fast.

"Oh great you better not have gotten any cock juice on it."

"Oh you know I did sweetheart."

"Seems a little light" said Sal holding the green bud up to the light.

"Fuck you Sal."

Then Sal opened the bag and took a hefty whiff.

"That's the shit right there oh yes it is."

"How about a kick down?"

"Later. Alright you can get out of here now. Your services are no longer needed."

"I wonder if this is how a whore feels?"

"Out!"














Rene left Sal's office and went into the bar. He sat at the far end and waited as Jerry served at the other end. When Jerry finished he looked over and saw Rene then streamlined right to him.

"What's up bud?"

"Nothing but the rent you know how it is."

"Sure do bro."

"Hey, Sal gave me this check, said for you to cash it."

"Oh its that day is it."

Jerry grabbed the check walked over to the till then returned with a fistfull of cash.

"God damn shit is expensive."

"Nothing but the best for Sal."

"You get a kick down?"

"Not yet."

"Well get that together cause you know when it rains on Sal we all want to get wet too."

"I wouldn't leave you out pal. C'mon who do you think I am?"

"My man for reals."

"True that. Okay enough with the prelims how about setting me up with a J&B on the rocks squire."

"The Rene Navarette special?"

"Nah, better make it a single I got a feeling about tonight."

"That drummer from the Peppers is here tonight."

"Really where?"

"Right over there" said Jerry nodding to a booth near the front door.

"Shit you're right. That guy is amazing. I have to go over there and talk to him."

"Drinks top shelf tequila. I can't cuff that shit, Sal watches those bottles like a hawk. You're gonna have to pay up with real money if you don't want to go over there empty handed."














"Maybe I'll wait a little while."

"Good idea. Hey maybe he'll make the parking lot run with us when Sal flows to you."

"Maybe...maybe."

Calm Down Smarty Pants

Alone after the crowds had left, the air fouled of beer and stale cigarette smoke, vile like only a night club could smell, he thought to pick at the last remnants of the abused deli tray. It seemed that the carrot sticks hadn't quite been what the drunks and sex starved tramps had been hungry for. There remained a few odd slices of indeterminable cold cuts as well but they were covered with a thin layer of watery blue cheese dressing perhaps having been diluted by what might possibly have been a spilled vodka drink or worse.

He made his way from the filth of the so called dressing room, more like a closet with a couch and a folding card table, and then into the small hall that led from the backstage to the main room of the nightclub. The soundman was busy putting the microphones in to foam lined pelican cases and didn't even bother to look up. Everyone else had been long gone and now with the house lights on, the room which had looked exciting and colorful only an hour earlier, now looked dirty and depressing. The long bar still had a line of green and brown brown beer bottles crowding it for every available area of it's surface, the barbacks new well enough to get the hell out, there'd be plenty of time to clean up the next afternoon. It was an ugly business to be sure.

A small group of locals were still on the sidewalk outside the club as he finally made his way onto the street. They were the usual assortment of dumb desperate kids, drunk, ornery, and looking for more. More of what they never knew but they would wait all night if there was some promise that the night could continue on. He walked by relatively unnoticed and then stood to lean against the wall and fired up a smoke with the casual air of a man lost in the world yet acting as if there was no other place he ought to be. As he exhaled the cloud of blue smoke got caught in the light of the neon and transformed red and in that moment reflected what lived within him. How he wanted some contact. Peels of laughter came from the group of stragglers as they shifted their packs into threes and fours and twos and threes, constantly shifting searching for that one hook up, that one connection but there he stood in aloofness, not practiced but born well of traveled experience.

He tried not to watch the machinations of the crowd as they split amoeba like into their packs, losing one here, taking on another one there but he too was searching. He needed someone to save his life. He needed to be touched, to be held, to not be so alone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another Lucky Strike and butt end lit it against the nub of the last one.

Again he exhaled and through the smoke he came to notice that there were two pretty young girls that had separated from the pack. One was tall and lean, she looked to be of some Asian decent and the other was just plain built from the ground floor up. He hadn't been imbued with that casualness and single mindedness that made introduction so familiar and spontaneous as he had known other people to have possession of. Inside his every fiber screamed to them to reach out to him, to move toward him, to make eye contact, to say a simple hello. Couldn't they see that it was he who had been on that stage just a short time earlier? Didn't that count for anything? It only made his predicament worse these notions of entitlement. As he stood there using all his might to compel them to enter his realm a bandmate walked past him and right over to the girls.















"Hey girls."

"Hi." they chorused.

"I saw you two from the stage tonight... you were the prettiest two in the whole damn place that's for sure."

"I told you he was looking at us", the tall one told the other with a small town girlish excitement.

"You bet I was. I saw you two kissing." The bandmate hadn't really seen them kiss but this was a ploy that he had seen him use in every city they had reason to travel to.

"You did?"

"You know I did. Why don't you do it again for me right now, c'mon."

The two girls looked at each other and then slowly moved together and began to kiss in earnest. As soon as they came up for air...

"How was it? Good huh? Let me try."

The tall girl leaned in and they kissed long and sloppy.

"How was that?"

"That was great. Now you try it." she said to the thick girl.

She then too kissed him then the tall one leaned in and took over. The other curb dwellers had begun to gather around as all three now started kissing in a garish display of public lasciviousness. Three mouths, three tongues joined as one. A camera or two flashed but they kept it up to the thrill of the semi circle of kids that now surrounded them.

That night as he sat in the hotel coffee shop, he being gentlemen enough not to go back to the room he shared with his bandmate, he saw the sun begin to rise over his third cup of weak coffee. He looked out through the coffee shop window, the daily specials painted in amateurish script and to his eye in reverse, ham and eggs $4.49 and such, where he saw the two girls noisily enter a waiting taxi. As the taxi sped off he thought to himself how he would have to get off the road. This was no life for him. It certainly wasn't the first time this had happened, it was more routine then all that, it just wasn't the life he had wanted. Then he thought long and hard. It wasn't the fault of the road. His loneliness sprung from a well far more beguiling and intractable then that. The waitress came by coffee pot in hand and he looked up to her. She was a pretty girl and he wished to take her up on the look she so graciously bestowed upon him but it would be to no avail and he knew it.

"More coffee?"

"Sure. Why not?"














She poured the coffee and with it a wry smile. She knew. He knew. He wasn't lonely after all. It wasn't the road for the road was only a mirror in which was reflected who he was whether he wanted to see it or not. No he would be just fine. They'd be in Jacksonville the next day.

Shhhh Who Asked You?

"Now that we're alone, just me and you, I thought we should have a little talk?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this."















"How do you know what I'm going to say?"

"I suppose I don't really know but I have this inkling that whatever it is it isn't going to be good."

"That all depends on what you consider to be good. What may not be good for you might be good for me and vice a versa."

"That is true."

"So what are you so afraid of?"

"I didn't say I was actually afraid but I have this feeling that whenever you say you want to have one of these little talks its usually about a situation that makes me uncomfortable that's all."

"What do you think I want to talk to you about?"

"I'm not sure."

"Really?"

"Really."

"There must be some subject that you are sensitive about or you wouldn't have expressed concern over the conversation making you uncomfortable?"

"Maybe there are a few topics you might have chance to broach that might cause me some unease."

"And what might those be?"

"Might is the operative word here isn't it?"

"As in you might not answer my question?"

"Or that I might."

"So answer it then."

"Do you think I should answer you even though I think it might, there's that word again, might cause you some uncomfortability?"















"And you're sure that answering the question is going to hurt me?"

"I can't be sure but I have a pretty good idea."

"So did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what."

"Do I?"

"I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Maybe I do."

"So did you?"

"Maybe?"

"Maybe what? Either you did it or you didn't."

"Suppose I did do it but not what you think I did? Perhaps I will be confessing to something that neither of us are in agreement as to what it is I'm admitting to."

"Perhaps at that point we will both be satisfied. You can unburden yourself of whatever misdeed you did or didn't do and then you can apologize for whatever you think it is you did do because it is evident that you did do something although as you said we might not be in agreement as to what that actually is."

"Alright let's just say that I am guilty. I'm guilty of something but probably not what you think I'm guilty of."

"You see now I think you are guilty on two fronts because I am pretty damn sure that you are guilty of what I think you did and you are also guilty of what you know you did."

"I guess I owe you an apology."

"Do you?"

"I think I do."

"So you did do it?"

"I guess I must have whatever it is that I did."

"I don't know if I can accept your apology."

"Why not?"

"What you did was pretty awful."

"It was?"

"You bet it was."

"Really I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart I'm sorry."

"Alright when you put it that way. Apology accepted."

"I'm glad we could have this little talk."

"Me too. Next time maybe you can just admit that you did it and save us all the trouble of having to work so hard at getting to the truth."















"You're right. I apologize."

"Accepted."

Keyword Pleasure Thai Money And Lady Boys

"Will you come out of the bathroom already."

"I can't."














"Sure you can."

"Oh you are so wrong. I wish you weren't but you are."

"If I have to get off this phone and come over and drag you out I will."

"I assure you such drastic measures are really uncalled for. If I could come out I would."

"So what's stopping you? The ole boogey man out there gonna eat you up?"

"Nothing like that."

"Okay so surprise me."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

The bathroom was not a large one by any stretch of the imagination no matter how fertile that ability to fantasize might be. Perhaps if you were a bushmen in the Kalahari it might have seemed elaborate, most probably merely unnecessary but for a modern dwelling adequate would be more then sufficient in it's description. Sure there was a combination tub/shower, a sink and a loo, a small medicine chest but in this day and age of bath 'rooms' spartan was closer to any other adjective best suited in it's telling."

"Okay. The reason I can't leave the bathroom is that I can't get clean."

"Oh no. Are you going to go into some metaphorical discussion on how although you wash and wash you just can't seem to get 'clean', as in spiritually or psychically? Are you going to say that the filth emanates from within and your only course of action is to attack from the outside, in a most superficial way? Can it be that you need to be cleansed in the river of blood a baptismal sanctified by transgression and suffering that only then when you have been deposited on the shore having overcome the lake of fire only then and then only will you be truly clean? Is it that the poetry that is you has been sullied and trod down upon dragged through the muck and the mire and this conversation is really only a thinly veiled call out for help?""















"Why would you say that?"

"Because that is your pattern. You give me only a little description then you go on with a meandering monologue in which at the end of you leave me with what I think you feel approaches a punchline."

"Oh really?"

"I guess now that I have shown you my cards you are going to have to turn this back in on me."

"In what way."

"I don't know make it that you can't leave the bathroom for one mundane reason or another."

"Like I just ran the bath and don't want to waste the hot water?"

"Right or that you just shampooed your carpets and they are still wet and you don't want to track them up."

"How did you know?"

"You've got to be kidding. I guessed right?"

"No, I just wanted you to feel special for a minute."

"My god then what is it?"

"I told you already. I just can't get clean."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

"Neither."

"Now you're just plain fucking with me."

"No I'm not. I told you that you wouldn't believe me if I admitted the truth to you and judging by this conversation sadly I feel my first assumption was the correct one."

"So don't come out. I don't care anymore. Call me when you get out."

"That's just it if I do get out I won't be able to call you anymore."

"That's it I've had it with your riddles. Goodnight."

The phone went dead. Back in the bath she scrubbed and scrubbed. To her human belief she was as clean as she was ever going to get but she didn't know exactly how clean she could become. The bathroom was filled once again with a blinding blue light and then the sound came back as well. The light surrounded her and then adhered itself to her body pulling it ever so slightly toward the ceiling of the small room. It felt as if she were being cradled by some enormous loving force. She wanted to leave with this power, to be swept from mortality, to heaven, to space or wherever it was that this anomaly had in store for her.

She finally made it from inside the tub to a place just above the bath water and there she stayed in suspended animation and then she was gone.

The lights were as pinpoints and she felt hands upon her, probing. There was a lack of sound that was obvious in it's absence. A calmness and serenity filled her though when she tried she found herself unable to form anything that could approach a coherent thought. Then the lights dimmed and she imagined that two large eyes were observing her. Then they were gone and she was returned to utter darkness.



As she awakened the first thing she noticed was the chill of her bath water. She lifted herself unsteadily and grabbed her robe from off the back of the door. She turned the knob and the door sprung free with a low swop. She raced across her apartment and made her way out the door. Her steps quickened as she neared the front door of the apartment building. She ran down the steps and when she came to the front yard she threw herself to the ground and rolled in the fresh cut grass. 'Not now', she thought. 'Not now.'

The Brief In The Shorts

"Have you heard the new Soiled Mattress and The Springs record?"

"The who?"

"Not the Who; the Soiled Mattress Mattress and The Springs record?"















"I guess I haven't heard the record seeing as I have never heard of the band, if that's indeed what they, or that, or whatever it is, is."

"Well then you're sure missing out."

"Oh yeah, why is that?"

"Cause its cool that's why."

"You mean cool as in hip, groovy or bitchen?"

"I guess those might have been words used to describe it back when those words were part of the popular lexicon."

"Why wouldn't you just describe it as rockin' or rad or maybe even gnarlistic then, with all asides to popular terminology?"

"Rad might apply but if I think about it cool is pretty much the operative adjective here."














"And?"

"And what."

"Aren't you going to describe to me what it or they sounds like."

"It is a they. I suppose they sound like light jazz that would not be out of place on a Ralph Records release."

"Ralph Records, like Berkeley, Bay Area stuff."

"Yeah like Snakefinger or The Residents."

"But it isn't a Ralph Records release?"

"I don't even know if there still is a Ralph Records."

"So I take it that you might call it trippy?"

"Well trippy is so subjective."

"How's that?"

"Well to me Kenny Chesney is trippy but to someone else that shit is right down the middle."

"I get you but in terms of say how The Residents are psychedelic and well trippy does it roll like that."

"I don't know if you would say it rolls."

"How's this? From what I can surmise, how about Chet Baker on acid, is that a fair description?"

"Chet Baker was sure cool, you know the west coast sound, the cool jazz movement and all but that doesn't quite get it."

"Help me then, you have told me more of what it isn't then what it is."

"I told you it was good."

"No you said it was cool."

"Isn't cool good?"

"Again that's subjective. You know I think Karen Carpenter is cool."

"She wasn't cool."

"I disagree she was cool and good. But there you go cool is a word used by many people to mean many things."

"All I asked is whether you had heard the Soiled Mattress and The Springs LP."

"Alright already. No I haven't heard that record."

"That's all I asked."

"Can I hear it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't out yet."














"Why did you ask me...oh forget it. Its cool I don't need to hear it."

"Yes you do I'll get you one when it comes out."

"Cool."

"In what way..."

Hey Didn't They Film Swingers Here? Part XXX

"Hector do you have Marty and Elaine's entrees ready? They were done with the oysters ages ago and now there just sitting there?"

"Maybe they enjoy each other's company you ever think of that?"

"Jesus Hector give me a break."

"Mi madre doesn't like cussing and neither do I."

"Christ you are going to make me explode."

"Patience Genevieve, all in god's time, I know its for them but do you want I should send it out raw? Bring them some more bread I hear the boss is paying for it."

"Oh shut up Hector."

The evening had started in earnest and the few people who would be dining in the restaurant were for the most part seated at their tables. Marty had ordered Elaine another glass of wine and Elaine had made sure not to drink the whole thing before the dinner had been served. The early drinkers were beginning to enter the bar and the whole place was starting to come alive if ever so slowly.

Genevieve arrived with more bread then sheepishly curtsied and bee lined back to the kitchen.

"Wonder what's with her is she trying to kill us with all the bread?"

"She's just a sweet girl Marty come on."

"I thought we already went over that."

"Do I detect an air of hostility?"

"Sorry dear I guess I'm just a little hungry."

"Eat some bread."

"You know what I mean."

"When I was a little girl I'd always tell my mother, right before dinner, that I was hungry. This upset her to no end and she would always say 'have some bread if you're hungry'. I would hope and pray that she would offer me a slice of pie or something but no, it was always 'have some bread'."

"You miss her don't you?"

"She was so young, it just wasn't fair. She never really got a chance to know you."

"What she did know she didn't like."

"It wasn't that she didn't like you she just didn't like that her little girl had married a musician."

"Who could blame her?

"I always did."

"Let's talk about something happy."

Elaine reached for her wine and drank from the glass. There was a silence and then a tall scruffy looking man, dressed casually, an air of rock and roll emanating from him, approached the table.

"Marty, Elaine how are you?"

Marty looked up but couldn't place the man even though he was the drummer in one of the biggest rock bands in the world.
















"Its me Chad, do you remember, I sat in with you guys last year?"

Marty bluffed a nod of the head and stood out his hand and they shook.

"I would have come by sooner but I've been on tour for the last year or so and then the wife moved us out to Malibu, great place right on the water, but anyways, I just don't get around here much and you know it would be great if I could sit in again, I just love you guys, I tell everyone wherever I go that they have to check you guys out."

"That's so nice Chet, I think we can get you up there tonight."

"Cool man that would fuckin rock, I mean, sorry Elaine, that would frickin be tits."

"Tits?"

"You'll have to excuse me I've been road doggin' for so long my manners aren't up to snuff these days. What I mean to say is that would be really great if you'd let me sit in tonight, a real thrill."

"I'm sure Marty can find some room for you Chad."

"Great. Chad, right. I'll be with some friends you just let me know when maybe some Paul McCartney, Silly Little Love Song or something."

"Or something, no problem Chas."

"Thanks Marty you two enjoy your dinner now."

The rocker swaggered away towards the bar and Marty watched him go.

"Why were you so mean to him Marty?"

"I wasn't mean. Why do you say that?"

"First off you kept messing up his name."

"I know his name its Chas."

"Its Chad."

"So I missed by one letter sue me."

"I don't now you just seemed so cool to him."

"I guess I just don't have respect for those rock and rollers. The kind of money he makes and for what, they can barely handle their instruments."

"If I remember correctly that kid is pretty darn good."

"Maybe he is, maybe."

"Marty I don't need a house on the beach in Malibu."

"Well maybe I do or would have, I don't know."

"Be a dear and let the kid play."

"So he can show off in front of his friends? Don't you think enough people see him play on his world tours?"

"Marty."

"I'm sorry you're right. I'll call him up. That's what I love about you Elaine, you're always right."

"Not always but a fair amount of the time."

Elaine raised her glass victoriously and finished it.

"Okay Genevieve, order up."

"Its about time Hector."

"Now hurry up and get this to then before it cools."

"Look who's talking mister."

Genevieve lifted the plates and twirled her way through the kitchen door into the dining area. With a respectful lift in her gait she maneuvered through the maze of tables over to Marty and Elaine.

"For the lady the chicken cordon bleu and for the gentleman the rack of lamb. Can I get you anything else?"

They all three looked at Elaine's empty wine glass.














"Marty do you need anything?"

"No dear."

"Than we're fine. Thank you so much Genevieve."

"Enjoy you two."

Marty vigorously cut into his lamb and then took that first bite. A geasy red juice erupted and ran from his mouth down his face. Elaine watched with delight then reached over and with her napkin dabbed at her husband's chin. The night had officially begun and no one knew precisely where it might lead.

Trash Cans Can Be Sold For Profit And Fun

"You know it would be great if people were actually interested in this stuff because there was a day not so long ago you might have been able to make a pretty penny on this story."

"Make my money off it? I lived it."














"You know what I mean, it all just sounds so hyper-real that there has to be some monetary cache, some untapped potential associated with such a tale of woe and misery."

"Like paying me for having to have gone through all this?"

"Something like that."

"Who would want to hear anymore junkie tales really?"

"I know James Frey and Jerry Stahl kinda beat you to the punch and ruined it for everyone else. Granted one book was fake and the other just plain stupid, I mean who cares Alf and all that shit, yours now, yours would have some real vavooom you know what I mean?"

"Get off it. It isn't that incredible is it? I was just another squirrel looking for a nut just like all those other fiends running willy nilly out there. Speaking of fiends, remember the band 'The Fiends', used to play at Raji's and The Lingerie, well Scott Morrow the lead singer died a year or so ago. Man we used to chase nuts together."

"See you could tell tales about all that. Didn't he live up in Beachwood Canyon with you?"

"Oh hell those days huh? Shit I remember Scott had this Persian connection and this guy Steve..."

"The P.I.L. guy?"

"That's the one. Scott would take off in the morning, say he would be back at noon. Well the phone would ring at eleven and it would be Steve and I'd tell him Scott would be back in an hour. Steve would wait ten minutes and call back and I'd say Scott would be back in fifty minutes. Another ten minutes and the phone would ring and I'd say forty minutes."

"Did he keep calling?"

"Nah, five minutes later there would be a rap on the door and it would be Steve. You see I'd let him in and we would wait together for a minute until I got bored . He always seemed embarrassed for having not waited for Scott to call him and so he would just sit there and keep waiting while I just went about my business. Now Scott never came home when he said he would, he was always late, sometimes an hour."

"What a drag having this guy just waiting up in your pad."

"You'd think so but not really because when Scott eventually did come home Steve would get his ish and then not to feel like such a fiend he'd kick down to me so really I wanted him to come over, the earlier the better, the longer he waited the better the freebie."













"See you could go on about him but with more flourish you know."

"I aint no writer I'm just a squirrel."

"You could talk about Perry, people would be into that."

"You remember when there was that rumor that there was a videotape about to be released that everyone thought had me blowing Perry in it."

"It was a really big deal. I mean it was on the news that his lawyers had it stopped and all."

"Yeah the funny thing is that all these people l knew would call and ask me about it and I'd say that if it were true then, you know so what, I'd admit it but I never did blow Perry. I did videotape him doing some psycho drama thing with that freak girl Kim, they went into this thing about their relationship, he would berate her then they would get high then as she was blowing him he would go into this perverse monologue and all this in a moving limo, that was fucking weird."

"You sure you didn't blow Perry?"

"No like I said I'd be happy to admit it but sadly I have never had another man's penis in my mouth."

"Does that mean you have had your own in your mouth?"

"Right, right, I'm double jointed at the hip. C'mon fuck off."

"I don't know I think people would love to hear about all this shit."

"Well you're a person and your hearing about it."

"I suppose you're right."

"Isn't that good enough?"

"Sure."

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know. You only have to ask."














"Its a deal."

"It'll be our secret."

"Cool."

"Nuff said."

Good Cop Bad Cop Good

The school day was half over. Lunch had been uneventful although she had seen a little black kid kick the shit out of a bigger Mexican kid but beyond that nothing was in the least unusual. She took her seat, next to the last row, then waited for Mrs. Curlweil to begin the lesson. The bell rang and most of the chatter settled down with it. Mrs Curweil the social studies teacher at John Marshall Middle School, rose from her desk and addressed her class of ninth graders.















"Good day class. If you could please quietly and quickly pass your homework assignments to the front of the room so we can get started with today's lesson."

The boy behind her tapped her shoulder and when she turned around thrust a sheet of paper towards her.

"Send it up."

She took the paper and passed it up to the girl who was seated at the desk in front of her. She hadn't added a sheet of her work to the boy's. In fact she hadn't done her homework assignment. All the papers were now in Mrs Curweil's possession and she tapped the unruly tangle of pages on her desk until they fell in line much like a deck of cards after being shuffled.

"Do I have everyone's homework?"

The kids were silent.

"Did everyone complete the assignment? Tell me now because I will go through these before class lets out and it will be better for you if you tell me now."

A boy in the front row sheepishly raised his hand at a raked angle, it was more of a half hearted seig heil nazi salute then an exuberant proclamation of guilt. Though he had put up his best effort the hand did not go unnoticed.

"William Styron, please see me after class. Anyone else?"

She was frozen momentarily but forestalling the inevitable would only bring a harsher rebuke later on so up shot her hand.

"If the two of you might stay after class then."

She found it hard to concentrate as the class wore on. She normally would have been enthralled with the course study of the day; 1960's youth culture and rebellion. She had always loved that era. She had heard so much about it and even had plans to see her idol, Bob Dylan, at the Fabulous Forum that weekend. The bell rang and the kids all bolted for the door. She stayed in her seat frozen, mustered her resolve, then stood and walked slowly to the desk of Mrs Curweil. Her teacher was busy writing in a file and didn't look up at her or William Styron. Finally she was done writing and with barely a glance reached into a lower desk drawer pulling out two sheets of paper and handed one to each of the children.

"Please have these signed and returned tomorrow. Be sure that the phone number is legible. That is all have a good night."

She read the form letter...

Dear Parent or Guardian,

A homework assignment was given to your son/daughter. This assignment was not completed/turned in, on it's due date.
Please make sure this form is filled out and that the pupil returns to class with it and any work owed.

Please be sure to fill in all information including a day time telephone number that you can be reached at. If you have any further questions please contact the school.

Mrs Curweil
Teacher
9th grade Social Studies

That night at dinner she was even more quiet then usual. There was talk of the big concert that weekend and she brightened at the mere mention of the momentous coming event. After the dishes were done she showed the letter.

"Why didn't you do your homework? You better have a good reason."

She didn't have any reason. She tried but she couldn't conjure one however hard she tried.

"That's it young lady. No concert for you."

She tried pleading and when that didn't work the tears came. Still no traction so a tantrum erupted along with the sobs. She began to sound like some barnyard animal so violent were her histrionics.

"That's it go to your room."















She wouldn't budge. Through the choking tears she cursed the world, cursed her poor lot in life, cursed the unfairness of her predicament.

"You heard me now move."

The slam of her bedroom door nearly shook the house loose to it's foundation.

Prostrate on her bed, her hands flailing with deathly intent bludgeoning her pillows into a submission that would never come she cried. Now she would never see Bob Dylan. How could she live on? The violence of her horror subsided and she was overcome by a far more frightening dilemma; resignation. That was it, there was nothing she could do. The dream was over and in it's stead was only darkness. She lay there motionless, defeated.

She heard the creak of her door open but did not turn over. Why should she? What was there to gain?

"Are you finished?"

Still she felt no obligation to offer a response.

"Listen we just want what's best for you. School is the most important thing in your life right now. If you want a future, the great future we want for you, then you need an education. When the teacher gives you homework we expect you to do it. Do you understand that? I know you were looking forward to seeing Bob Dylan, we all are but we have to do something to let you know that there are consequences associated with your behavior. The concert isn't a reward but it is a something you have to earn. I know its tough being a thirteen year old, it was for me I know that."

She rolled over and wiped her face dry.

"This is the deal. You make up that homework right now, no, first go out and apologize for you fit then get back in her and do that assignment. If you do that you can go to the show. Do you think you can do that? "

She nodded in assent.

"But know that this behavior is not cool. We love you and only want what's best for you."

She sat up and then they held each other in a tight embrace.

"I can't wait for Saturday night can you?"

She tried to shake her head no but her face was buried to deep into his chest.

The Forum was packed and the crowd eagerly awaited the voice of his generation. Then the show started and there he was; Bob Dylan. It wasn't the Bob Dylan she thought she would see. She hardly recognized the songs save for a line here and there. He almost looked as if a cartoon characterization of Bob Dylan but he was Bob Dylan and it was the greatest night of her young life.














When late that night she came home she got right to work on an assignment. It wasn't due for a week but who knew maybe Bob Dylan would be touring the next year.

Burnt Fingers Matches Held Too Tight

Little J never cared too much for birthdays. 'Everybody has one so what's the big deal?', she would tell herself. For years she would let that day slip by unnoticed only letting on to her friends once the proper amount of time had passed and any chance of a celebration had long since become stale. After many of these occasions had slipped into the past her friends started to become aware of this ruse. This year the jig was up.














"Don't even try to stop us its already settled we're throwing you a bash up at Big Andrew's in Bronson Canyon."

"Oh please don't. I really don't want a party."

"You know what? Who cares what you think. Its a done deal."

"What if I don't come?"

"Not an option."

Little J hemmed and hawed and put up the best fight her small frame could muster but to no avail. It was settled a gala was to be held in her honor and the wheels had been set so staunchly in motion that not even an act of god could forestall the festivities.

A few days before the party Little J fell deathly ill. Bed ridden, her fever skyrocketing by the minute, it seemed as if death were a forgone conclusion. She demanded to be left to her own ministrations and all visitors were shunned even before they had chance to approach her door. It was a tragedy and in turn sadly Little J would have to inform her friends that the party would have to be cancelled.

"Hey J, how you feeling?"

Little J held the phone a good distance away and then produced the most hellacious sounding cough one could imagine.

"I feel horrible."

"Oh that's really a shame."

"I know. I'm so sick. Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure, do you need me to bring you juice or soup? I heard that Airborne works really good."

"No I have all that and it isn't working."

"It must be really serious?"

"Oh it is, it really is."

"So what do you need?"

"Oooarrfghhhaugh" the next cough exploded into the receiver, "I'm so sick I can't even begin to think of calling everyone to tell them the party is off. Do you think you guys could get together and do that for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean call everyone who was invited and let them know I can't make it and that the party has been cancelled."

"Oh the party isn't cancelled. We're still going to have it ."

"What?"

"You heard me. The party is on and you are coming. We all decided that if you were so sick and contagious, well, that we love you so much that we are all willing to catch what ever deathly illness you have."

"You can't do that I feel like I'm going to die."

"We discussed that too and we came to the conclusion that if you were to die then we would all like to be there to see you on your way out, you know support you in you're hour of need, a friendly hospice scenario party."

"I'm not going to get out of this am I?"

"No. How are you feeling now?"

"My health is much better but I'm feeling really pissed."

"Good. I'll pick you up in a half hour we need some party clothes so we're going shopping."

"But I...."

The line was dead.














The night of the party came and the house looked great. All manner of good looking people milled about. There were exchanges between the singles, flirtatious glances and the like. There were awkward moments between recently separated couples and then there were the requisite dudes who wanted only to watch sports on television. It was a grand affair and the alcohol flowed. The kids in black clothing tried unsuccessfully to slip in small groups, unnoticed, into the bathroom, there obviousness coming off as utterly quaint. Little J sat on the front porch and greeted everyone as they entered. A great many gifts were bestowed upon her. Her favorite being the vintage Mike Piazza Dodger baseball.

As the end of the night came Little J sat alone on the porch. Perhaps she shouldn't have had that last glass of wine. She thought what a great time she had had then wondered too why she had so feared this celebration in her honor? Soon her best pal Yves sat beside her.

"That Piazza ball is great but I still think my Ethier and Martin rookie cards were the best."

"They were the best, really they were, thank you."

When she said those words she was suddenly filled beyond repletion.















'Thank you'.

She had never wanted to say those words before but now they came from deep within her. She was thankful and in a way she never thought she was capable of. Maybe that was why in the past she never wanted to be feted? Maybe she hadn't been ready until now to face the love that was all around her? It was Little J's birthday and for once she didn't care who knew.

No The Funny Thing Is

"What do you mean you didn't miss me?"

"I mean really, what was there to miss?"














It was a warm breezy fall night. There were 'red flag' warnings being trumpeted on the nightly news and all of Chandler's dark poetic allusions were in the process of being made real by the citizens of Los Angeles. The air was charged, negative ions being stirred by a force driving in from the desert. The sky an electric, crisp blue, on it's way to transforming into an unbelievable purple.

Sirens seemed to circle the surrounding neighborhood as they sat on the stoop in front of her apartment building. Some kind of homecoming, the best she thought. The two girls finished the last of the Yellow Tail, Shiraz, and as she went to place her glass down it fell and shattered on the concrete. It would be that kind of night.

"Oh c'mon you must have missed me just a little?"

"Why would I miss you? You wrote me most every day you were gone."

"I know but there were those last few days that I didn't have any internet access."

"Yeah and?"

"Well weren't you worried about me?"















"You're a big girl. I had a feeling that you could manage alright."

"Gee thanks. I'd worry about you if you went silent for four days."

"I wouldn't want you to worry."

"Sometimes we can't help ourselves."

"Don't speak for me."

"I didn't mean it that way. I'm just trying to say...oh fuck, I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"I think you're trying to say that I'm an unfeeling bitch."

"Fuck you. Don't put words in my mouth. I wasn't trying to say anything of the such."

"But you were thinking it."

"Damn it. All I said is that, I mean, that even if you didn't mean it you could have said you missed me even if just a little."

"Now you want me to lie just so you can feel better about yourself. Fuck that."

"You're always so concerned with yourself. Why don't you think of someone else for once in your life?"

"If I'm not concerned with myself then who will be?"

"Fuck your semantics. You know what I mean."

"Listen this is going nowhere."

A fire engine passed close by the flashing lights running up the street and reflecting off the car windows. She picked at the broken glass by her feet then looked up at the swaying palm trees.

"I just wanted you to miss me."

"Okay so maybe I missed you."

"Thanks."














"So why don't you tell me about your trip?"

"I don't really feel like it now. Maybe some other time."

"Sorry."

"Me too."

That Which Sits Betwixt Thine Ears

"You ever see that show Nova on PBS?"

"Sure who hasn't, why?"














"They were talking about black holes the other night."

"Right, that is some scary shit right there."

"I know, isn't it weird that they came up with the mathematical formula proving them to be existent even before they actually found them in the cosmos."

"Do you actually believe that they exist? I mean that's a pretty dicey proposition if you ask me. That a star, collapsing under the yoke of the weight caused by it's own death, that it's own burnt out hull falling in upon itself could cause a power, a force, so great that it can actually suck up light, time and space. That is some pretty deep calculations made by some bespectacled freaks that we are meant to accept as gospel."

"Don't bring up the so called gospels you know how I feel about all that."

"Not the Christian definition but the something accepted or promoted as infallible truth definition of the word. I'm just saying that it is common belief now, the concept of the black hole, a concept that once seemed so utterly fantastical."

"Well they made a pretty good case on Nova. That made it not only seem plausible but almost as unassailable fact."

"I still think its pretty damn scary."

"Why's that?"

"Just think of it, time as elastic, as matter in fact, not just some notion or spiritual element."

"Still why does that scare you?"

"I don't know maybe it just unsettles whatever tenuous grasp I might think I hold on my reality. Maybe we, I mean our scientists, are finding things out that are so beyond our, well I should say my, ability to fathom an understanding of that there is a strong tendency in my head to become befuddled by even the most mundane in light of these incredible concepts."














"Do I detect a creeping nihilism?"

"Not now but I tell you a guy can get a pretty good case of the 'fuck it's' in the face of some of these presuppositions."

"I think I know what you mean but I don't bend that way. I want to know what is on the otherside of these black holes. I want to know about the wormholes and the parallel universe theories. Doesn't it just make our simple world all the better?"

"You know sometimes I wish all that gospel shit were reality. I mean it would be so simple to have old grandad up there on a throne creating the universe in seven days..."

"Six; he rested on the seventh day."

"Even better, six days and when you die you go to heaven or hell, bam just like that, not a lot of wiggle room in the head when you buy that bill of goods."

"I don't know maybe all that is the truth and old grandad is just inventing new shit as he goes along. You know, my creation, man, needs some fresh toys to play with so I'll make space wonders to keep him occupied."

"There just isn't anything that will throw you off your track is there?"

"I don't know? I feel like I'm being sucked up by a black hole right now."















"Why do you say that?"

"I'm slipping into the worm hole as we speak."

"Where does it lead to? You must tell me?"

"I promise to tell you but not until Wednesday."

"Okay I'll see you on the other side, I'll be the one on old grandad's lap."

The Grilled Onions

"Oh man I am so bored today."

"I heard you bruddah. Dere aint nothing here to do brah."














"I been over to da south side man, dey wadn't doing nuthin over dere either. It be like everyone buggin all at once."

"Dere isn't never anything to do here."

"Maybe when dere be a swell brah."

"Not for a while den brah."

"Big Beach was hittin last month."

"Yeah brah but not lately.

"What you going to do later?"

"Don't know brah, maybe go to Shaka Pizza and get me a cheese steak grind."

"Dat be good now I tell you brah."

"I had some folk over from da mainland, dey ate at da Shaka and dey said it be good just like on da mainland."

"Who was dat now?"

"Oh, my peoples old friends and their kids. Da crazy thing I come out to da backyard and da young bruddah, he be about our age, he be sitting in da back in da dark just looking up at da sky."

"Why he do dat for?"

"I ask him and he say he looking at da stars brah. You believe dat? Just sitting dere in da dark all by himself."

"He be lookin at anything special?"

"No, just looking straight up."

"I guess dey don't have da stars on de mainland like we do on da island."

"Could be brah, could be."

"Brah I want to go to the mainland, dey got all kinds of things over dere."

"Fo sure brah, fo sure."

"Dis island man, it got nothing fo sure."

"It got da tourists brah."















"I want to meet me a tourist haole, a sweet young thing brah, den I gonna go see her on da mainland, get me outta here, go over dere and see dat place."

"Dat aint gonna happen brah, no haole be getting with us. You go up Kaanapalli dem white girls barely sixteen barely wearing any clothes, man dey don't want nuthin from you brah."

"I'll show you brah, I'm gonna find me one and den she gonna have me to de mainland, maybe L.A. brah, I'll go all Hollywood like a moviestar you'll see."

"You think dere be no stars in Hollywood brah?"

"Dey got movie stars fool."

"No like stars up in da sky."

"I don't know, must be."

"I don't think I would like it if dere wasn't any brah."

"You right there fo sure. But I'm going to find out for myself brah, I surely am."
















"So what are you going to do now?"

"Dere aint nothing to do."

"We could go to Kaanapali."

"Nah brah, let's go to Shaka."

"Right brah, let's go to Shaka."

"Oh man I am so bored today."

Don't Call This The Truth

"See that house, that's Clint Eastwood's."















"It would have to be someone like that's. No average joe is going to have a magnificent house sitting right on the best beach in Hawaii, it would have to belong to one of the biggest movie stars, it only makes sense."

"This beach is a real secret."

"It sure is beautiful, the sand is actually sand colored not white like in California."

"You know what else?"

"What?"

"This is also a nude beach."

"Uh...really?"

"Yup."

"Okay...I guess."

"Is that cool with you?"

"Sure, I mean, yeah why not?"

"Let's sit over here."

They walked to the far end of the beach. There were lava outcroppings black and craggy dividing the beach. They threw their towels down and sat and watched the waves roll slowly in.

"So what do you think?"

"Its amazing really."

"No, about the other thing."

"What thing?"

"The nude beach thing."

"Oh that. What should I think?"

"Are you going to get naked?"

"I don't think so, really, I...uh...no."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it."

"There has got to be a reason."

Just then a girl appeared from behind the lava to their right and walked towards the water. She was perfect, she was naked. Her body young and stunningly proportioned, she strode confidently, unashamedly to the water then slowly waded in.















"Holy shit. I think that was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."

"And she was naked."

"That she was, a real bonus if you ask me."

"So why wouldn't you get naked?"

"There are a few reasons that come to mind. First I think I'm modest."

"Modest huh, in what way?"

"Geez you're not going to let this go are you?"

"No. I think we should get to the bottom of this don't you?"

"Alright, let me think."

The girl came out of the water and stood for a moment facing the water. Immaculate. She turned around and smiled at them her face radiant her body recently ripened and still pristine.

"Gulp...okay, here goes. You see when I was a young boy I couldn't control my... my..."

"Your boner."

"Right my boner, okay. If I were to see a girl like that then, you know, boing, no control what so ever."

"Are you still like that?"

"Not really, I mean I don't have one now."

"Okay reason one dispelled."

"As for modesty, damn this is hard to talk about."

"Go ahead its just you and me here."

"Well I thought for the longest time that I had a little wiener and I would be embarrassed if anyone found out."

"Do you have a little dick? Its not a crime you know."

"Well luckily I don't. I mean its not a porno dick but the girls I've been with haven't seemed to mind the size in fact my last girlfriend swore it was the biggest she ever saw, I know she was fibbing but I have had other girls testify to it's worthiness."

"So you're not afraid to get an unanticipated boner from your fair enough sized penis, so why the modesty?"

"Maybe I think that its just unnecessary. I don't feel I have to prove how free I am. If it were just you and me at a private place I don't think I would have a problem with it but in public, it kinda just seems like grandstanding. Maybe if I looked like that girl I'd do it just so as to gift the world of my beauty but personally I don't find the male form at all attractive especially the little schfinkus swinging between the legs. I don't think I'm a prude I just don't get it. Do you think that I'm old fashioned?"

"Maybe you are old fashioned."

With that she stood up and dropped her shorts and pulled her tee shirt over head.

"Don't mind if I do?"

"Nope. Don't mind if I don't?"















They ran to the surf and dove in the warm Pacific water. A moment later the pretty nude girl made her way back to the water. He watched as the water splashed against her flesh.

He moved deeper into the water making sure it covered him to his chest. He felt just like the little boy he once was.

I Want To Play Football For The Coach

"I want you to hit them square in the chest and don't stop driving your legs until they are planted in the ground. Do you hear me?"

"Yes sir!"

"I want you to cream someone on the first play. I'll take the fifteen yards if you can assure me blood or a trip to the DL."

"Yes sir!."

"These kids are bigger then you so you have to establish your fearlessness from the start. Don't give them a chance to take a breath, keep hitting them, throw elbows, take out a knee, I don't care its blood I'm after."

"Yes sir." They chorused their response after every command. "yes sir!"

He didn't want to play this way. He wanted to have fun and play the game with dignity but if he had to he would go along with the game plan as created by the coaching staff.

"Okay give me twentyfive, get down and I better not see anyone dogging it or you all get an extra ten laps after wind sprints."

The team dropped to their bellies and began to pump up and down, they counted numbers punctuating their toil. Went it was done they made three lines and as the whistle blew dashed thirty yards took their stance then raced the thirty yards back. Then the next line, over and over until they could barely stand.

"You're not getting tired are you? The other team isn't going to get tired so you better get a grip and work through the pain."

Strapped for air the team mushed the last few sprints.

"Alright good job, jog out five for me and then hit the showers, good practice gentlemen."

The team circled the field slowly and he had time to think.

'I'm not going to hurt anyone. The coach is a good man but this goes against everything me parents have taught me. My ancestors came to this place in boats and fought the seas to make this their home. They lived in harmony on this land and did so until they came and took it all. I love to play and I love my team but I can not do what he has asked of me.'

In the showers the boys snapped towels and laughed with youthful camaraderie. Yes they could win. Coach was right, we have to strike hard and then not let up. We have to win for the coach. We will kill them if we have to.

He stood in front of his school and watched as his father pulled in to the parking lot. Sitting beside his father on the drive home he tried with all his might to tell what weighed so heavily upon him.














"Poppa?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"The coach is a good man isn't he?"

"He seems to be, he has you guys playing pretty good."

"I know, he really wants to win."

"He sure does and good on him for it you guys needed someone to push you."

"What if coach wasn't such a good man?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know but what if he wasn't?"

"Then he would probably be asked to leave the school I suppose."

"You mean they would fire him?"

"You could say that."

"I wouldn't want that to happen."

"Why what has he done?"

"Nothing really."

"C'mon you wouldn't be going on about this if there wasn't something to it."

"Its just that coach told us the game plan today and it doesn't seem right."

"What doesn't seem right?"

"He wants us to kill the other team."

"Of course he does we all do."

"I don't want to kill them I want to have fun."

"Can't you have fun and still slaughter the other guys?"

"Can you?"

"Sure, you aren't going to actually kill anyone are you?"

"Coach wants to."

"I'm sure he was just being enthusiastic."

"I don't know?"

"You want I should talk to him?"

"No Poppa, you don't have to."

They drove the rest of the way home in a strained silence.

The whistle blew and the game had begun. The kicker sent the ball careening towards the other team and then there was a violent clash of young bodies. He made his way down the field and when he came upon the first of the wave he thrust his forearm to the face of a boy knocking him down, then on to another where he planted his helmet in the boys stomach sending him reeling, he raced five more yards and as the play was blown dead threw himself bodily at the prone ball carrier. A rain of red flags surrounded him.

"Personal foul, defense, fifteen yards, spearing." The referee shouted.

There was a group of the opposing coaches surrounding the fallen ball carrier. It was a few minutes before he was able to be helped off the field.

He stood on the side lines and the coach motioned him over.

"Good hit. You wear that number on your back proudly, now go back in and do it again."












As he stood numbed on the field he turned to look at the crowd in the stands. He tried to find his father in the mass of bodies but couldn't.

As the ball was snapped he ran with all his might and hurled him self over the line of scrimmage...

'I want to play football for the coach.'

Bought Then Sold Then Lent For Easter

"Bellman up front, guest to suite 801."















John moved with practiced confidence to the front of the hotel. He had done this a thousand times before and would probably do it a thousand more before he was done. He had been at the Ritz Carlton going on fifteen years and would stay another fifteen if they'd have him.

His hair now only a memory, his bellman uniform now not so uncomfortable as when he first donned it in his late twenties, John was the picture of professionalism. He bucked up and stood at attention as another group of spoiled tourists emptied out of the hotel limousine. It was an elderly couple and their young female companion. John took in a deep breath as he beheld the younger woman's beauty. Perhaps she would be that elusive one, the one, the one he had waited so patiently for.

"Boy take these to our room while we get refreshed in the bar.", spat the old man forcing a twenty dollar bill into John's hand.

"Yes sir I hope you enjoy you're stay at..."

They were gone before John could even finish his words.

He watched as she walked away never looking back. 'Oh well, another twenty in the books.' It didn't even phase John anymore for it happened daily if not hourly. They looked down their noses at him and after so long it no longer registered in him.

He loaded the bags on a cart and slipped upstairs to leave them in the suite. Out the window a industrial crane moved across the ocean backed skyline. A major construction was under way at the Hyatt and the whole beach was just one big mess of trucks and workmen. 'Some view.'

John had come to the islands because, well he wasn't sure but a few of his childhood friends were already there and he supposed that was as good a reason as any. He wasn't entertaining enough to land a bartending job, he waited tables a bit but that was a horrible trade, he didn't surf, he hadn't an education in fact he wasn't much of anything and add to that he was already going bald.

He took the bell job as a lark then found that he really enjoyed it. Punch the clock, wear the smile and stick his hand out. He flourished at the job and soon found himself at the top hotel on the island. Without a hobby John saved his money and after a few years got together with his childhood friend and bought a beat down house in the hills near the sugar refinery. In his spare time he worked and fixed that house until it gleamed. He worked and fixed and trimmed and painted until there was no more fixing and trimming to do. And he saved and saved, twenty here, forty there, his hand out his smile fixed.















There came a time when the house was meant to sell and when it did there was a large profit. The neighborhood had changed the market exploding behind it. There was a plot five miles farther down the road, they had to jump even before the island approved the roads, it was all or nothing, perhaps the deal of the lifetime perhaps a four acre pile of rocks. His fortune now bound the island granted the roads and so they built from their own design.

The house, in what became one of the premium neighborhoods, sat on a hill, the Pacific assaulting the senses form all sides, manicured acreage laid before it, a dream come real. Again he worked and toiled until the house was immaculate, the grounds a wonder. His friend was gone for half the year in Alaska and the home was his.

Each day he would go to work and be dismissed by the visitors to the island and then at night he would return alone to his palace. He was now a rich man were he to sell the house. If he wanted, if he needed, it could be he looking down his nose at those who might condemn him for his perceived lot.

Then one day the phone rang.

"John what's up?"

"Hey Doug. Nothing I was just working on the date palms down by the guest house. When are you coming back?"

"That's just it...you see I'm getting married."

"Wow...I mean that's great."

"Listen John, we have to talk, I mean I want to do what's fair, I mean I'll buy you out or you can buy me out but let's sit down together, you know...I'll be back in couple of weeks, alright?"

"Okay. Sure Doug."

"Alright I'll see ya, be good buddy."

"You too...and Doug..."

The line went dead...

"...congratulations..."

John walked out onto the balcony. It was a moonless night and the sky was bright with stars. He was alone up here on the hill, more alone then he could remember.















'Maybe I'll let him buy me out? I'll get off this hill and then the first thing I'm going to do when I come down is drive down to the Ritz Carlton and pull up out front. I'm going to sit there until they come to my car and when they do I'll unlock the trunk and tell them I'm checking in and then I'm going to get the best suite, 1602, and they can bring my bags up for me because I say I'm going to the bar and then I am going to go to the bar and I am going to find her, I am, going to find her, I am. That's what I'll do when I come down from the hill. That's what I'll do...'

Is Thing Really On?

"No really I'm asking you. Is this thing really on? I can't tell unless you tell me."

"I think its on? I mean it should be."















"That isn't good enough. I need to know without a doubt that this thing works."

"How do you expect me to know? I mean why wouldn't it work?"

"Its like asking me if I can ice skate on a sand dune."

"Can you?"

"Can I what?"

"You know ice skate on a sand dune?"

"My god, that was an analogy, not a very good one but an analogy none the less. And if you must know, sand dune or not, I can not skate in any form."

"So what do you want from me?"

"To tell me if this thing is on."

"Maybe you should run a test?"

"Okay. Testing one, two, three."

Is This Really The End?

So this is goodbye. Yes I have to go and leave you all. Please stifle those tears, that's the last thing I want is to know you are crying.

You might say how can I do this to you? I know fate is cruel but if you were with me yesterday then you might have ascertained that the well had run dry.

Okay I'll grant you a few tears but only a few. Like a good friend who moves to a new city I'll still be there in your hearts and minds if you'll only let me.

Turn back the pages when you miss me, I'll do that when I miss you. I promise.

There are surely ones more worthy of your affection and I beseech you to go out and find them.

I have to say it was fun while it lasted, really it was. My hands touch these keys with great tenderness knowing that these words will reach you where ever you may be.

Don't fret because I am sure we will meet again. That is my grandest wish.

So here I go off into the crisp eve, moon full and filled with the promise of the future.

I will miss you.

Truly I will.

That is until Monday when I will once again regale you with the wonderful world of the Sufferwords.

God willing Marty and Elaine will return a week from Sunday. So remember same bat time, same bat channel.

Find It At Walmart?

"If you've got something to say then just say it."

"What if I have nothing to say?"

"Well you better think of something."

"Why do I have to say anything?"















"Because I'm standing right here and if you aren't going to say something after I have made the effort to come see you then you better have a pretty damn good reason for clamming up."

"I'm tired."

"Nice try bub, everybody is tired. Drink a cup of coffee."

"It will keep me up all night if I drink it this late."

"Too bad. You read the newspaper lately?"

"No, maybe if I had I'd have something to say."

"How about television seen any of that."

"I don't watch t.v."

"Nice try liar, you're not going to weasel out of this that easy."

"I don't want to be a weasel."

"Then you better figure out something fast."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"How about dogs."

"I don't have one."

"Butterflies, talk about butterflies."

"That would be a little redundant don't you think?"

"I don't think that you're in a position to be too choosy. Okay talk about your day."

"That's my personal business."

"As if this isn't? Give me a break. You're pretty pathetic aren't you?'

"I don't know am I?"

"Its starting to look that way. You think a little conversation made up of a series of unanswerable questions passes as saying something, seems pretty pathetic to me."

"Who do you think are you anyway?."

"Let's not starts with that, we're talking about you not me. Don't try to turn the tables and point the finger at me."

"Why not? I could talk about you."

"That's not a proper topic for public consumption."

"Public consumption? What are you talking about? Its just you and me here."

"Great not only are you pathetic I'm starting to think you're a little loony to boot."

"Me loony. Look who's talking? You're the one that wanted me to say something in the first place."

"That's my job."

"Oh so you're job is to get me to say something?"

"Yes it is."

"How much do they pay you for doing this job?"

"I don't get paid."

"Sounds pretty nuts to me. You do a job and don't get paid for it; you are crazy."















"Why don't you just shut up?"

"I thought you wanted me to say something?"

You Can't Make This Shit Up

"Dude where have you been?"

"I've been in Vancouver."













"That is such a beautiful city. What were you doing up there?"

"I was visiting a girl."

"What's her name?"

"Jovanna."

"Oh man. I know her."

"You think its the same one?"

"Was she married to this guy named Rodney?"

"Holy shit? How do you know her?"

"I was seeing her for a minute."

"I can see why only a minute."

"Did she bug out on you?"

"How did you know that?"

"I know."

The Machos Tacos on Prospect and Vermont was busy for a Wednesday night. Geoff and Tony sat eating their burritos and wondered at this strange coincidence.

"I don't know how Rodney did it."

"I do they were strung out."

"That probably only made it worse."

"Did she read your tarot cards?"

"The things we do to get with a girl you know what I mean?"

"I went up there because we were going to go for a road trip. We had been chatting it up on the email, you know, so we made a few phone calls and I decided to take a flyer so when she brought up this trip I said yes."

"Dude I wish I could have warned you."

"Hindsight you know? So we are out in bum fuck Alberta and we're driving and she just goes off, get out of my car, you're an asshole all that. Just out of nowhere."

"Shit."

"Shit is right. I'm like, can't you at least drop me off at a bus stop or something."

"Shit again."

"She finally mellowed out a bit but there was no more action the rest of the ride back and she barely said another word."

"Dude, we were out at dinner and the waitress was a girl I had dated like five years earlier. So as we are leaving Jovanna says that the waitress was rude and I say well she wasn't that bad so then Jovanna says if I see that girl ever again then she can't go out with me."

"She had you pegged man."

"I mean me and the waitress we're just being friendly, not even friendly I'd put it more at cordial."













"Wow Geoff, Tony, hey."

It was their friend Huey.

"Huey shit man what's up?

"Just getting a taco."

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"Oh no, me and Tony were just talking about some girl that we both went out with but didn't know that we both had until now."

"Anyone I know?"

"Probably not just some girl named Jovanna."

"You mean the one that was married to Rodney?"

"You know her?"

"Oh shit. Me and Dickey once drove down to a show, fuck it was the Weenie Roast you played at Tony, remember we Bonzo'd out in that limousine after."

"Oh fuck, right off the stage into the car and then a police escort to the freeway."

"Right. Well earlier we were driving down to the show with Rodney and that girl, I guess she was his wife, Jovanna, and they are in the back seat of Dickie's clown mobile. We weren't five miles down the freeway and she starts in a bitching. I mean she just wouldn't pipe down and I'm telling her at first nicely then just plain old shut the fuck up and she just kept on a yabbering. She just wouldn't stop. The car wasn't good enough, the traffic sucked, she didn't like the Buzzcocks CD, I mean just wrong on every account. She was really lucky that traffic was jammed because if we had been going any faster then fifteen miles an hour I would have jumped in the back seat and thrown her out on the road. The only reason I didn't do it is because I was afraid traffic was going so slow that after I threw her out she would just catch up to us jump back in the car and then I would have to go and throw her out all over again."

"Harsh."

"What the throwing her out of the car bit or the pain I had to endure at her expense on the ride bit? Buddy why do you think I wanted to ride home with you in the first place? I know we are bro's and all and you had the limo but rally I just couldn't bare the thought of riding all the way back to town with her."

"What are the odds here gentlemen? All three of us had an experience with the same girl and no one knew each other's story."

"I don't see how you guys could have put it in her."

"I can't speak for Tony but shit was pretty good."

"I'll concur, pretty damn fine."

"The things a guy will do. I don't know about you guys but I don't think its worth it. Not with a succubus like that."

"That's because you never got there. She was married when you met her."

"Shit maybe you're right?"













They sipped the last of their horchatas and jamaicas and then the conversation quieted. Three guys, without women on a what was becoming a lonely Wednesday.

The things a guy will do.

The Hall Of Mirrors

She was done with words. The summer had crept away and now the sky turned orange before it turned night. The Santa Ana's had blown a few times and news of forest fires had become by now rote. The Jewish calendar had turned and the day of atonement had passed as well. It was a new season and she was glad for it. The endless procession of holidays was about to commence and this excited her. Her loneliness would surely subside now that the festival season was almost upon her.

Halloween loomed just ahead. She hadn't been invited to any parties but it was early yet and one could hope against hope couldn't they? This year she would have the perfect costume. She would enter the party and immediately be the center of attention. All the boys would want her, and the girls, they would all want to be her best friend, those who weren't jealous anyways. This would be the thing to restart her life. A wild Halloween gala, a ribald explosion of drink and excitement. It was only a few weeks away and she could barely stand to wait for it.














The naughty nurse was an easy choice but then again it was so common and so desperate. True she could show her form off to it's best advantage but there had to be something more unique. She could be a vampire with low cut dress and black wig, blood dripping seductively from the sides of her mouth, her pallor as white as a bed sheet but then again there might be a hundred vampiras at the soiree.

If she went with her true instinct she would be a cat. A cute little kitten with whiskers and a tail but that was such an obvious fuck me ploy that the idea even made her cringe. A historical figure, maybe Marie Antoinette, a wig of blonde curls piled to the ceiling, a corsetted dress, costume jewelry befitting the queen she was. There was a Sofia Coppola movie coming out about Marie Antoinette, damn there might be a score of them fighting for attention she couldn't have any competition, she had to stand alone and above all those other want to be's.

Manson Family girl, smart but not sexy enough. Debbie Harry, everyone would think she was just an eighties girl who didn't wear a costume. Madonna, Britney, Christina, weren't they dressing for Halloween all the time anyways? Betty Page another obvious choice. Maybe Lady Godiva? Naked with long tresses to the floor a little horse on a stick between her legs. What was she thinking, naked at a party where there would be drunken horny people? Why not just bring a mattress and throw it on the floor and spread her legs?
















Something smart, sexy, unique. All she could think of was going as herself.

Maybe she should pass on Halloween and just wait for Thanksgiving?

Nervous Breakdown

"Run...run!"

"Oh my god run!"

"Don't stop! Keep going!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying... wait up!"















They ran diagonal across Sunset where Clark turns into San Vicente and then raced down the sidewalk past the Licorice Pizza. It was utter bedlam in West Hollywood. Another Black Flag show another punk versus police riot. This time it was serious. The kids and their adversaries, the police, weren't playing this time. The street was blocked with black and whites and kids were battling the police with bottles and their fists. The police used batons and their numbers.

"Into the parking lot quick."

"Hide behind the dumpster."

The parking lot behind Licorice Pizza turned to daylight as the police helicopter night light found it then as it passed by darkness again. The night was filled with the sounds of sirens and kids screaming, bottles breaking, and megaphone'd police commands. The teenagers were electric. The two girls, Monica and Maureen and their best friend Barry were pressed tight to the smelly industrial dumpster.

"I can't believe it."

"Did you see that one guy? That cop just walked up to him and split his head open with his club."

"I know, he wasn't even doing anything."

"That was the scariest show I have ever been to."

"My god that one guy with long hair was just standing there watching the show and some skin head came up from behind and grabbed a fist full of his hair and just yanked it out of his head then they beat him up."

"The whole night it just felt like it was going to get ugly in there."

"I know the Whiskey sucks. Everyone is just stuck standing there on the floor all packed in and it was so hot I thought I was going to pass out."

"Its like the band wanted it to happen."

"Holy shit listen to that."

There was the sound of explosions then bricks smashing through windows. Barry peaked out from behind the dumpster and saw a flood of kids streaming down San Vicente. 'fuck you pigs...circle one motherfuckers...' Then a phalanx of police in full riot gear spanning San Vicente marched lock step after them.















"Fuck, we're trapped."

"What do you mean?"

"There's police on either side of us."

"What if they come in here?"

"We didn't do anything."

"Let's just stay here until it passes."

"Behind this dumpster?"

"What choice do we have?"

"This is like some sort of movie it just isn't real. It was like I was watching it but it really wasn't happening."

"I know."

"Barry what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that is fucking stupid."

"Why? I only have a half a black beauty left and if we do get caught I don't want to have it on me."

Barry snorted the powder off the back of his hand.

"You think we're going to get caught? My mom is going to freak."

"Will you two just calm down we aren't going to get nabbed."

"Don't act like you aren't scared I know you and you've never done anything like this before."

"I know but I'm not scared. Fuck those pigs I mean really. C'mon we don't even look like those hardcore punks."

"I know but this is just fucked."

"Do you still have that bottle?"

"I was going to throw it at the cops but..."

"Oh yeah, right you were. Fuck you."

Barry pulled out the half drank pint bottle of Seagram's Extra Dry Gin.

"Down the hatch."

They each took a pull and then passed it to Barry who finished it. Barry stood up and tossed the bottle over the wall and it crashed onto San Vicente.

"Barry what the fuck?"

"Really do you want to get us busted?"

"They aren't going to get us. Fuck them anyways."

"Oh you're all the sudden a real punker?"

"Whatever?"

The three of them sat in silence and listened as slowly the tumult began to wane. Later that night...

"Oki dog, Oki dog, Oki dog."

"No Oki dog, just two orders of fries."

"Oki dog!"

"Fries."

"Okay, no Oki dog, fries only."

It was like a class reunion at the corner of Gardner and Santa Monica. Kids were off showing their injuries, their badges of honor and nothing seemed impossible.

They sat at a table and reveled in the scene.

"Its like a movie, really it is."

"This night has been fucking incredible."

"The best ever I hope it never ends."

"It never will. I know it."














They dipped the oversized fries into the ketchup then joined in as the kids all screamed together as one burning mass.

'Fuck the pigs, fuck the pigs, fuck the pigs...'

Hey Didn't They Film Swingers Here? Part XXIX

"Looks who just walked in. Hey you two, aren't you here a little early."

"A good evening to you too Sal. Thought we might test Hector's cooking out tonight. We hear that its not too bad."















"I don't know where you heard that Marty but if you guys want to take your chances I'm not the one to talk you out of it."

"Oh you two."

"May I show you to a table, perhaps one near the kitchen? The table is great if you don't mind the noise or the constant interruption of the wait staff ."

"Sal."

"Sorry Elaine, I meant to say follow me, we have been holding the best table for you, I mean, even though we didn't know you were coming, you know, we held it just in case."

"Thank you Sal that's much better."

"Follow me your highness."

Sal bent low at the waist and with a dramatic flourish swept his arm out and beckoned them to follow. As they passed the other diners Marty looked at the plates of food on their tables.

"Sal, you sure this stuff is fit to eat."

"It better be, with the money I spend ordering it take out from Figaro."

"You're a real wiseacre Sal."

"Isn't that why you love me so Elaine?"

Sal led them to a banquet table near the front of the restaurant. The white linen table cloth was pristine and the silver glowed in the soft light.

"I hope this is to your satisfaction ma'am. I'll have your waitress come right over. Oh and be sure to tell her not to charge you for the bread, a little gift from me to you."

"Your are such a prince Sal, now if you don't mind my husband and I would like to be left alone to enjoy our dinner in relative peace."

"Do I detect a note of..."

"Scram Sal."

"Sure Marty."

The events of the day were now a million miles away. Marty looked at his wife as she toyed with her silverware, he reached under the table and gave her thigh a little squeeze. Elaine quickly stopped playing with her fork and turned to Marty and beamed.

"Why don't you have a glass of wine dear."

"You think so?"

"Of course you deserve it."















This was all in keeping with the game. Marty knew she wanted to drink and if he played it like this then he could relieve Elaine of the discomfort of coercing him into suggesting it. Marty and Elaine had many such rituals and games, they had been married to each other for most of their lives and deep down they both knew these practices were essential to the longevity of their union.

"Marty, Elaine...this is great."

"And good evening to you too Genevieve."

Genevieve gave Marty a look and Marty nodded a quiet assent.

"Would you like anything to drink before we get started?"

"I think the young lady would like a glass of your finest red please."

"Elaine, would you like the cabernet, there is a great sarat, and I had the pinot before work."

Elaine placed a finger under her chin in the classic thinking pose much to everyone's amusement.

"Personally I'd go with the sarat."

"I defer to your judgment Genevieve."

"And for the gentleman?"

"He'll have a Shirley Temple."

"I beg your pardon, a Roy Rogers is the correct libation for young men."

Genevieve feigned impatience sticking her hip out and placing her hand upon it.

"Bring me a Budweiser doll and make it snappy."

"That's more like it."

"Hector have any oysters tonight?"

"Yes he does in fact."

"Dear?"

"If their good enough for the Rockefellers then..."

"Then we'll start with some oysters done in the Rockefellerian style please."

"Good choice. Let me get that in, I'll get your drinks and then I'll be back for you order."

"Thanks dear your tip is growing by the moment."

Genevieve sashayed away from the table making sure that Marty and Elaine appreciated it.

"She's a good kid isn't she?"

"She sure is."

"Marty?"

"What dear?"

"Do you think we should have had children?"

"Elaine. Where did that come from?"

"I don't know, its just that I think you would have been such a good father."

"I thought we decided early on that with our careers and everything that kids were out of the question."

"I know that but don't you ever wish we had a girl like Genevieve?"

"I don't know Elaine, I really don't. Why do you?"

"I guess I do sometimes, not a lot but sometimes."

They sat in silence for a moment. Laughter erupted form the bar and Elaine forced a little smile.

"Marty I guess I really don't miss not having kids because I have you."

Marty looked over to Elaine then picked her hand up and raised to his lips and kissed it so tenderly.

"Here you go, sarat for the lady and some brew for the sir."















Genevieve placed the drinks before them on the table and then put a basket of bread down.

"Compliments of the management."