Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Basil Hardbottom grew up watching reruns of I Love Lucy. His idol was Desi Arnaz, and he wished he could live the life of Ricky Ricardo: performing in nightclubs, hanging out with Fred Mertz and sleeping with a wacky redhead.
He couldn't afford a conga drum, but he inherited a set of bongos when his beatnik uncle died. Close enough.
On his 50th birthday he affected a Cuban accent and took his bongos to open stage night at a local lesbian folk music club.
He put his name on the list and waited his turn while earnest women sang Melissa Etheridge songs.
Finally Basil got his chance. He performed Desi's signature number, Babalu. The crowd listened politely, but there was no applause when he finished. He took his bongos and walked silently through the room and out the door.
His show business dreams shattered, he went back to his life as a lonely busboy.
The guy waving up at the top of the picture has nothing to do with anything.
He's better off.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Don's father always said that half a fire hydrant was better than none.
Don agreed with his father about most things, but not this. Whenever he encountered anything less than a complete hydrant he went wild. He knew these were tough economic times, but he felt that the Mayor of Pigtown went too far with the half-hydrants thing.
Were they for putting out half a fire?
Were they for relieving half a bladder?
Don liked rhetorical questions as much as the next pig, but they didn't help the situation.
But what would? An angry letter to the Mayor? Patricide? A stiff drink? Comfort slop? Meaningless sex?
Don went on to try them all, with mixed results.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Inez liked to tend her garden in the moonlight. Except for the slugs.
How did she go from sunshine and spermatozoa to moonlight and slugs?
Some women light up a room with their smile. Inez was forced to use a lamp. It's not that she was ugly, though she wasn't pretty, either. She had the body of a woman half her size, though hers was twice as large, of course. But she wore it well, and frequently. In fact, she never left the house without it, and always brought it home with her at night.
In her youth things were different. Back then Inez and her body would wake up all over town. She was quite popular, especially at night. But as the years flew by the phone stopped ringing and the whippoorwills stopped warbling. The frost was on the pumpkin and the world was no longer her oyster.
Perhaps her mother was right and she should have married Jim, the aspiring botanist she dated in college. But she broke Jim's heart to pursue life in the fast lane and to spite her mother.
And what did she have to show for it? A drawer full of speeding tickets and an empty flower pot.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Everything begins and ends at the horizon.
Walter was almost positive that his perception of the horizon was accurate and that everybody else's was askew, and that everybody would come around to his way of thinking before it was too late.
He was right, but he was wrong.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Wilhelm was an intense, certified genius who wrote a scathing column on modern culture for the Mensa Times-Picayune. He saw the world as one big asshole, so he never left the sanctuary of his little bungalow, surrounded by his his goldfish, his Fresca and his collection of rare erotica.
What Wilhelm didn't know was that the "asshole" outside his south window was actually just a hole in the ground, and that the north side of his bungalow faced a communal swimming pool shared by five other bungalows. His neighbors were all busty, Teutonic flight attendants with Lufthansa.
I guess "genius" is a relative term.