Sunday…December 13th….Giving out Trophies for Good Ideas….Good Ideas…only….Coincedences and the whole notion that dark can be really dark sometimes


“How Light Works”

“When I was little, my grandfather used to make me stand in a closet for five minutes without moving. He said it was elevator practice” – Steven Wright

today was going to be a day like no other…not since it was an automatically built-in concept of individuality…more from the perspective that I…me…was going to make the day different…it required a rather expensive printer…some convincing down at city hall…and a few thousand truck loads of bowling balls…to “litter the street with”…as the directions clearly stated…”litter the street with a few thousand truck loads of bowling balls”….I couldn’t really figure out the bowling ball issue…and I was on of those people who needed to know all of the ingredients in the Pasta Puta Nessca long before I turned on the gas burner…call me crazy….but it was just the way…dad wired us up to the car batteries in the garage when we were kids….sort of his idea of turning chickens into…ducks….but he had ideas…you know lofty ones that said things like “Up here”….so we ate the fondue with toothpicks…only to save money on the dishwashing…which seemed such a logical approach she got a trophy for that idea….we were randomly giving out trophies for ideas that began with Okay and ended in great…I mean a step forwards step back sort of motion didn’t get you anything…not even a consideration…but now if you pushed a wheel barrow…with cats in it…or maybe…made taffy…blinfolded…you got a few trophies…hands down….it was not easy….making these decesions…I’d received death threats from some pretty upset people…and had hired a Zina Princess Warrior look-alike to make certain I’d be unharmed……..it was a suggestion….and that suggestion…got them a trophy…sort of a trophy that looked exactly like the Publishers Clearing House Check…and all of the build up…you know….the guy in the suit ringing the doorbell….the girl with the big smile and the dozen roses……but the person couldn’t cash it…it was just for show…we didn’t have any money…to give…just trophies…….

who really cared what key did what..as long as one of them did what we wanted….start the car….open the door…..unlock the lock….she had lived a life of drama…the deep sighs…over the top….issues with Chad or Bill or Niko…whom ever was the 32nd…33rd flavor…her masquera…was always a series of thin charcoal…lines… down her cheeks….most conversations were sobs or those painful stigmata looks as she buried her face in her blood soaked hands…she’d never be a saint…only the whipping post…and he knew that…that’s what he was designed to do…..worked hard at having none of it…so he could have all of it…seemed almost torturous…enough to make you think that people like this were trained…made that way…and nobody…understood why or wanted to…..never had their own voice….more that of a puppet…..string in the back talker…..something on a stage that makes it all fun…rather than dangerous….but either way…you blow the candle out or suck the flame to you…..it’s out….it’s dark…and there’s no place……to go but….right there…..where ever here might be at that moment….so those quiet sheet days….make me think of her….where she sits today…maybe making men happy for a few dollars…or settled in there in that place in Montana she dreamed about….she’ll always wear the long sleeves though….and she may cry out for him when she thinks of what could have been…but he’s long gone…..there to that place….where the darkness swallows people…like ink soaked cotton…..you know that place…..

I reached for the gum in the rack…while he stood in the far corner…pretending to be really interested…in mops or….broom handles….or something that a 7-year-old kid had zero ideas about….I felt his hand grab my wrist….I knew things were bad at that second….and only going to get worse…..he shuffled me around the counter…like a fighting puppy on a leash…told my counterpart in crime to come to the counter….he was already crying…..his mouth wide open….spit lines in the corners…pointing at me…trying to say…”It was his idea”…..coincidence …has always entered my life like a… tsunami…or a broken beehive….this day marked the beginning of this lifelong series of coincidences….he walked in…with mirrored….sunglasses…. a black uniform and a black cowboy hat….he was a Texas Ranger….I heard they could snap your neck with….one hand…..kill you with a single finger…”Thank you for getting here so fast”…..the store owner said to the larger than life Ranger….”I caught these two boys stealing candy”….”how many years do you think they’ll get?”….I was certain I’d had a birthday in the time it took him to answer…his accent was like everything I thought a Texas Ranger would sound like….he did that teeth noise….outlined his chin with his thumb and index finger…..said…”20 maybe 25 years”…..my knees went weak…I’d be getting out of prison when I was either 28 or 33…..my father was going to do a whole lot more to me than prison could…so I was hoping we could by-pass him….and go straight to prison…the ranger…handcuffed us together…lead us to the car…..frisked us….made a few fake radio calls about the “Criminals” he’d apprehended…and placed us in the back seat….I never knew the prison….was in the same neighborhood I….lived in………

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