I recently stepped into church, knelt down, and began to pray. You can imagine my surprise when someone responded. The one-act play below is a transcription of the conversation that followed. I must inform the reader, my memory is infallibly photographic. Therefore, the dialogue’s authenticity is guaranteed. Not a single word has been changed.
Continue Reading 1 comment July 12th, 2008
My college roommate left me a voice mail yesterday morning. His message was short, simple and to the point.
“Your balls are showing,” he whispered, and hung up.
Those who are not in the know might consider this message to be cryptic, weird, and/or seriously demented. The truth is, it's none of the above.
Continue Reading 1 comment July 5th, 2008
When I was in sixth grade we took a field trip to the Lake Worth Community Pool. I had just purchased a new bathing suit for the occasion. A Quicksilver, checkerboard number that matched very nicely with my checkerboard shoes. I believe I even wore a checkerboard hat, which would have been logical.
Every sixth grade class in the district was at the pool that day, so it was important that I make a statement. And I did. I was the dumb ass checkerboarded from head to toe.
Continue Reading 1 comment June 28th, 2008
Last week it was reported that a gang of beavers flooded Highway 82. Most probably wrote this off as an unfortunate accident, but I’ve been told by a credible source that it was no accident at all. The beavers flooded our highway on purpose.
Continue Reading 1 comment June 13th, 2008
I tried, with great effort, not to look directly at Hunter, as he was seated to my right, and to look at him required a ninety-degree turn of the head, not subtle enough to go unnoticed. The last thing I wanted was to be perceived as meddlesome. The lure, however, was too much. He was doing something at the counter, and I wanted to know what, so on occasion I would take a glance, acting as though I was adjusting the recliner, or scratching my ankle, just to see what was going on.
Continue Reading 1 comment June 7th, 2008
I met Hunter S. Thompson on a cold April night in 2004. The moon was full, though muted, shining as a flashlight would through dense fog as we drove the long winding road, navigating ice and an occasional elk on our way to Thompson’s home in Woody Creek, Colorado, a fortified compound infamously known as the Owl Farm.
Continue Reading Add comment May 31st, 2008
I read in Friday’s Aspen Times that off-leach dogs may soon be allowed to run free on Smuggler Road. Judging by all of the un-leached dogs you see scampering up and down this popular hiking trail each day, you’d have thought this was already law. I wish I’d known that dogs were required to be leached. I would have strapped a billy club to my belt and made hundreds of citizen arrests by now.
Continue Reading 1 comment May 23rd, 2008
I am having a difficult time deciding which presidential candidate would receive my vote come November, should I actually remember to vote. I think my problem is that I know very little about the candidates, other than the basics; white man; black man, white woman…Republican, Democrat, Democrat…war hero, dynamic speaker, wife of Bill…old as mummy dust, young and inexperienced, middle aged and somewhat bitchy, etc.
Ideally, I’d dedicate the time to read the most recent book written by each candidate in order to gain a better understanding of who they are as a person, but that would mean I would have to read three books, so, forget it.
Continue Reading Add comment May 17th, 2008
I haven’t been sleeping much lately, which means I’ve spent countless hours in the hopeless darkness thinking of the most ridiculous things imaginable. The sleep deprived mind, I’ve learned, is not a sane mind.
Last night I could not stop thinking about a story I had read online. Two Houston teens, the story reported, were arrested for digging up a grave to make a pot pipe from a skull. The writer mentioned that he would love to hear the conversation that led to such a brilliant idea, so I figured I’d oblige him.
Continue Reading 1 comment May 10th, 2008
I have a problem with tomatoes. It’s nothing personal. A tomato has never intentionally harmed me and I am well aware of the tomato’s nutritional value. However, in certain circumstances, I react poorly to the presence of a tomato. It is one of those bizarre personal issues that would require a session or two of psychoanalysis to get to the bottom of, but I will do my best to explain the problem by citing a recent tomato encounter.
Continue Reading Add comment May 3rd, 2008
