A Letter from Your Secret Admirer

Dear ______________,

    I was very taken away when I first saw you. It’ll be a strange comparison, but you reminded me of my first car. A 1967 sky blue Ford Fairlane. Something about the ocean, the sound inside of  a seashell between the both of you, though there was no sound of a seashell at all, in either of you. That car shook violently when I drove it, you, I haven’t even heard your voice.
Just a vague feeling. A comfort. The stretched out blue ocean dissolving on the curve of the earth...you both remind me of the stupid Ocean.
    You wouldn’t understand. I know that about you now. You are the type of person who doesn’t have feelings that are scattershot like that. You are a person grounded in the ordinary world. I envy that about you. I am a person so full of wild ideas and misunderstood love that I often feel like a balloon instead of a human.
    Just floating across rivers illuminated with pure radiating fire.
    Well maybe not fire, that would pop a balloon.
    Your reaction to my “good deed” the other night was very disheartening. Serves me right for trying to be kind. I figured, we’re both single, attractive...in the market, why not try to be kind. As I have already said, I tend to do things differently, the average guy would have sauntered up to you in the bar and he would have made some clever little comment and then cleverly have attempted to buy you a drink and then cleverly...a lot of cleverness, all of it. I don’t operate that way.I think there is room in this world for soft beautiful light, people are just often too afraid of embarrassing themselves. Closed tight like flowers that bloom momentarily in certain moonlight.
    I could see how you would have been a little uneasy, thinking about how someone had been in your apartment while you were sleeping. That would creep anybody out. I am however, completely puzzled as to why you felt the need to involve the police. Obviously my intentions are good. If they weren’t you would have known all about it, much earlier. I wish I could have been listening when the officer took the report, “What? Someone broke into your apartment while you were there and did what?” “The dishes.” “The intruder did the dishes?” “Yes.” “The intruder did the dishes?” A second time, skeptically, “And left a sweet note.” You would clarify.
    Later, I could just imagine them, standing in a circle in the station, their cop moustaches bouncing up and down, swaying back and forth, as they laughed about your strange incident.
Sure, it was odd for me to come in like that. Don’t be mad at your Superintendant, it’s not his fault. I could steal just about anybodies keys. If you are going to be mad at anybody, be mad at yourself. You are not all you are cracked up to be. Your exterior might be a marvelous thing, your inner light is not all that pleasant. Plus, you snore. You drool. You really need to water that plant in the kitchen a little less. Wouldn’t the living room be a much better place for it? The sunlight, is all.
The truth is, I have been coming into your apartment periodically, though we are complete strangers, or truthfully, one sided strangers. I know a lot about you. Though we haven't talked, or even exchanged glances, I am drawn to you. Last Tuesday I organized your CDs alphabetically. A couple nights later I did your taxes. For real. Check your file cabinet. Done. I found your grocery shopping list and figured that I would be romantic and go shopping for you, have the brown paper bags waiting on the counter when you walked in after your yoga class. I was worried that you would come home with your own groceries and then there would be just far too many groceries. It would go to waste. I was concerned that the Butter Pecan ice cream would melt.
    The Silly things that keep people confined to their own small lives, apart from one another. In a better world, our desires would be necessary things that kept us alive for each other. Our desires would not be just hobbies.
    So, there, our love affair is over. It saddens me, and perhaps, it will bring you relief.
    I thought that I would write to you and point out something good that came out of this for me. Once I realized that it wasn’t going to work out between us, I turned my attention to the thing that was really making me unhappy.
    My sky blue 1967 Ford Fairlane.
    Some years ago, I was forced to sell the car. It was in bad need of repair and I am just not the kind of person that can make heads or tails out of how to repair it. That old song, you know the words, I needed the money. At the time, selling it was just something that I did without all that much thought, later it became something that I regretted. The years peeled away from me and then, the first hot day, to my horror, suddenly here was the car. Cruising around, restored. It had always been in my mind and now, here it was resurrected from my dreams into the daylight, the windows down, the radio on, an arm sticking out, getting the best trucker tan he could after a long brutal winter.
    That’s right. The man who bought it from me, was something of a force of nature. He took my decaying vehicle and transformed it. I would have to watch my old car, drifting by on the roads of my small town and try not to let it completely break my heart. It was under so many layers of wax that even the sun had to turn away from the glare. The chrome was something that only your dreams could polish that bright. The glug glug glug, purr of that exhaust was like a small orchestra to me as it coasted through the traffic light. The worst part of all of this was that I was on foot! Yeah, I didn’t even have a car.
    So, thanks to you, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t need you, that you were just a stand in for something that I really had to take care of.
    I went to the man’s house while he was at work and I did all of his laundry. I used fabric softener. I used spot remover on a shirt stained with wine. I cleaned out the dryer lint trap after every load. I neatly folded everything. Then, I fed his cat and cleaned his bathroom. Scrubbed the hell out of the toilet. Got all of the soap scum off of the sliding glass shower door.Emptied all of the trash cans. Changed the sheets on his bed. Sent his mom a birthday card.
    Then, satisfied, I went out into the garage and took my car back.
    It really drives like a dream. I’ll tell you this and you probably won’t believe it, but it is impossible for this car to get stuck at a light. Every light it hits is green. Everyone would fall in love with me if they were in this car, on my bench seat, just try not to smile.
The weather has been hot, there is no better time to be cruising down the coast line with the windows down. The wind whirring in your ears so loudly that you couldn't’ ever hope to hear the radio, but that is the point. The wind in your ears like that, it is like if you listen very closely, you are getting direct orders from the same beautiful noise stuck inside a sea shell.
    Soon, I will be at the ocean.
    The sun on me, and the car. As it belongs. As I lay on the hood. My hands behind my head. My feet splayed out. The stretched out blue ocean dissolving on the curve of the earth.

                         Best,
                    Your Secret Admirer.

Phyllis

  My friends showed up. Matt and Jack, the little brother of Stacie.
    I say little, because he is younger. He’s a pretty big human. Giant. Gangly. Beer bellied, a head like a block of stone. Odd limbed and awkward, deep sunk eyes and crooked jaw.
    Jack is wearing a Spandex Under Armor bike shirt tucked into blue jeans with a white studded belt. He’s got on cowboy boots.
    I stand there looking at him in my doorway, thinking, at least he doesn’t have on his cowboy hat.
    I’m not too excited about taking Jack down into the city dressed like this, but whatever, I’m just glad he’s here.
    His sister is getting married and we are all meeting up with the groom and the groomsmen, for a bachelor party. It’s Saturday night, in the late spring. You have to take full advantage of Saturday night in the late spring. Blink and you’ll miss it.
    Matt, small and quiet, has a bottle of cheap vodka, that he keeps at his side at all times the way a gun slinger from the Old West keeps his six shooter. So we get into that vodka. Jack wants beer so I send him down to the corner store.
    When we are alone, Matt says, “He’s got like four dress shirts hanging up in his car. I thought when he got here, he was gonna put one on. I was wrong.”
    Jack, comes back with Old English 40 oz. malt liquor and sits down on my couch.
    I’m glad he’s here. He’s a fucking weirdo. I love weirdos. He's a good friend to me. I would rather spend my time with odd ducks than with people who bore the fuck out of you.
    “That Spanish chick at the store is mean as Hell.”
    “She hates white people.”
    “Rightfully so, it’s a Dominican neighborhood and you’re killing it.” Matt says.
    “The corner store girl, she knows you’re with me.” I explain.
    “Yeah, how?” Jack asks.
    “She just knows, she can smell it on you.” I said, “Spout went down to the corner store on Cinco De Mayo...man, she get’s excited about all the holidays, all of them, even like President’s day…”
    “This is true,” Matt confirmed, “I was there on Columbus Day, she wanted to have a party.”
    “See.” I said, “So, there it is, Cinco De Mayo, she comes home and says, “HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO! Then, she wants to have tacos and Coronas. Sure. So, I start cooking and she goes down stairs to the corner store for the beer. Well, she opens up the door, addresses everybody in the store, throwing her hands in the air, “HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO!
    “The girl behind the counter almost killed her. She yelled out, “WE’RE NOT MEXICANS!
    “Then they kicked her out of the store and wouldn’t even sell her the Corona. I had to walk down there and explain to them that Spout gets excited about all of the holidays, even the bullshit ones like Flag Day and says Happy Cinco De Mayo to everybody on the 5th of May, even black people. They didn’t believe me. I told them that we definitely knew that they were Dominican and, then they barely excepted my apology and wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Plus, then my god damn change was wrong when I bought the beer.”
    “Oh Shit!”
    “Now I’ve got to go up the hill to the other store for beer.”
    We had a few more drinks there in my apartment and then Jack finished his 40. He was already getting kind of loopy. Big as he was, he really couldn’t handle his liquor.
    I liked him anyways.

    We took the train downtown. There was a young chick, maybe 19, with a cast on sitting next to me.
    The cast was covered in signatures.
    “Even the UPS man signed it.” She said proudly.
    Matt was a mailman, he nodded solemnly.
    “He’s a postal carrier.” I said, “Do you want him to sign your cast?”
    “Ok, sure.”
    “Do you have a pen?” Matt asked.
    “No.”
    “A marker?”
    “Forget it.” She said, “You missed your chance.”
    She was joking, but nobody laughed.


    We met them at a small strip club somewhere in the East Village.
    They weren’t drunk and we were about halfway there. I said, “You guys got some catching up to do.”
    They gave me the deer in the headlights look.
    I was happy to see my buddy, the groom, but his friends, his groomsmen, were not my style. There were two of them. The quiet fat kid who didn’t say anything and then, the best man, who as these things go, wouldn’t shut the hell up.
    He kept talking in circles. I didn’t hear a word of what he said, I just kept looking at his weird greasy hair. It looked like an overgrown bush of pubes that was only overgrown so bad because it was majorly thinning out. You know, look horrible for the sake of self defense. If I had that kind of curse, I would shave my head.
    The guy also had a high pitched lispy voice and seemed effeminate. Certain mannerisms. A non issue, he’s queer, I thought. Who cares?
    I found out quickly through conversation that he was an amateur stand up comedian and writer. He was annoying and so are all stand ups.
    He’s gay and so are all stand ups.
    On with the show.

    Inside the strip club, the girls looked worn out. They were low energy. Their tits did not point upward to Heaven. When they walked, their knees knocked together.
    This was just another Saturday night in their long eternity of shame and glitter.
    I took a seat at the bar and ordered two beers. One for me, one for the groom. The beers came out in bottles because there was no tap. The bartender was not a bartender, he wouldn’t have known how to fill a glass full of beer if you gave him a detailed YouTube video to study.
    As soon as my change came over, a bloodthirsty dancer was rubbing my shoulders.
    “Do you want a dance?”
    I spun around and studied her over. Like when you are in a used car lot, kicking the tires of a Chrysler. Like when you consider buying Army Surplus goods at the flea market. Ect. Ect.
    “No thanks,” I said.
    I already had all of her diseases. I was looking for new unique ones to round out my collection. Hers were tired.
    “What’s your name.” I like hearing stripper names. Rocket. Candy. Razzle.
    “Phyllis.” She said.
    “Phyllis?” I was puzzled, “That’s not a stripper name, that’s a lunch lady name.”
    “I’m not really a stripper.” She said, “I’m just doing this to put myself through nursing school.”
    Over the stereo, Motle Cru came on, “Girls, Girls, Girls”
    Everybody in the place let out a desperate sigh of dissatisfaction followed by some nervous twitches that they were not conscious of.
    I’ll tell you all about your unconscious nervous twitches if you tell me about mine.
    "Phyllis," I said, "Do you see this goofy white guy here beside me?"
    "Sure."
    "He's getting married." I handed her a twenty dollar bill, "Would you be so kind as to give him a dance."
    She took his arm and lovingly led him through the curtains. Into the darkness of the netherworld between our plane of reason and the champagne room.
Alone like that, it didn't take the best man too long to find me. He took a seat next to me at the bar.
    "What's up?"
    "Phyllis." I said.
    "Heh?"
    Then I took a good look around. Man, it really was a run down piece of crap strip club. What the Hell was our problem? Why were we here? There were only three girls giving lap dances, no one dancing on the pole. It was vacant. Dusty. Was it broken?
    The three girls consisted of a heavy set Puerto Rican with lots of extra flab to love or hate. Whichever. The white girls, though not crack head tinged, sure had a lot of sad miles clinging to them. Pam and Phyllis.
    Then out came my buddy Matt from behind the curtains with the heavy set Peurto Rican.
    Jack was buying us all shots.
    "That girl's name is Phyllis." Matt said.
    "It's a name, like if we were using a time machine." I said.
    It didn't take long for Jack to disappear in the back with our prize pony, Phyllis and I sent the groom off again into the back with Pam, who had started to look bored at the bar. Matt grabbed the Peurto Rican again, dragged her in the back.
The best man took this opportunity alone with me, "What's the deal with Jack?"
    "What do you mean?"
    I know what he meant.
    So do you.
    "Is he gay?"
    "I don't think so." I said, "Just weird. Eccentric."
    "Oh."
     "He seems gay."
     I shrugged, said, "Doesn't matter."
    I changed the subject.
    Phyllis came back out. She looked blue. It wasn't the lighting.


    "Where are we going?"
    They trailed behind on the sidewalk. We'd been walking for five minutes.
There wasn't a subway to take us to where we needed to go and all of the cabs, god knows, where all the cabs were.
    "hey where are we going?"
    I ignored their calls from the rear. They knew where we were going. This had already been discussed.
    "Yo dude! Does anybody know why we are walking so far?"
They were used to being inside of automobiles. This was freaking them the fuck out.
New York City. Just shy of midnight.
    "How much farther, man, I need a break." it was the fat kid. He hadn’t walked this far, ever, in his whole fucking fat life. It had been about 12 blocks. 12 blocks, motherfucker.
All you could do was ignore their frantic pleas for help until they dissipated. Sore feet. Locking up knees.
    We arrived at the club. There was a long ass line, but we got on it, comforted by the fact that Jack knew one of bartenders inside and all of our wounds would be cured by magic elixirs. Mandy the bartender. we were going to drink for free. Sure. Sure. You believe that?
I didn't. Fuck it.
    Inside the club it was a gigantic bubble of turmoil. It was an utter mess. People slid through walls of people in patterns that collapsed inward on themselves to the disjointed rhythm of mathematical dance pop kick drum death buried under puke inducing synth wails. Put your hands in the air and swing em like you just don't care.
I was trying to make my way to the bar. It was hopeless.
    Matt was off chasing tail. Jack was trying to find this illusion bartender at anyone of the five bars on multiple floors. The groom, his fat buddy...who knows.
Looking back over my shoulder, I realized again that I was alone with the best man. He was haunting me.
    "hey man, let me buy you a drink."
    "alright, go for it."
    He flailed his way through the crowd and came back with two Malibu and cranberries.
    "what the hell is this?"
    "Malibu and cranberry..."
    I tapped a girl to my immediate left on the shoulder and said, "I got you a drink."
    When I came back with my beer, the guy was still here. No shaking him.
    He started into it again.
    "So hey, what's the deal with Jack?"
    I shrugged. Then, I figured, screw it, I didn't feel like going through the whole spiel again, I just cut to the chase. I said, "hey man, do you want me to hook you up with him?"
    "WHAT?"
    "come on, I know what your getting at. It's cool."
    "OH MY GOD!"
    His reaction wasn't what I expected.
    "I'M NOT GAY! WHAT THE HELL WOULD MAKE YOU THINK..."
    "You kidding me? No offense, actually, yeah that's a pretty shallow thing to be offended about."
    Now the guy looked like he was going to throw a punch.
    "hey, pal, you've been sweating this kid all night, I say...just go for it. You like him, just go for it."
    His head looked like it was about to explode. I was just trying to be nice.
And that was that, the best man disappeared into the crowd. That was it. He was gone. Poof. Vanished. Didn't see him again for the rest of the night.
    I was lost in that place for about an hour. Just going from bar to bar on the different floors. Looking for anybody. Matt. Jack. The groom. Any of them. Not a soul in sight. Believe me, the lighting was so bad in there and there was so many people jammed in there, god damn, you could barely find yourself.
    At this point I was drunk, I mean, drunk. It was nice. All of my problems had dissolved.
I figured, I'd just go outside the door, see what was up out there. It sucked inside this club.
Sure enough, out on the sidewalk, there was Matty.
    "There you are!" He said, "I was looking for you!"
    "Hey! I was looking for you too."
    "Jack is over there."
    "where?"
    "across the street at that pizza place down the block."
    "oh, getting a slice?"
    "no, he's passed out at a table by the ATM."
    "oh, nice"
    "where's everybody else?"
    "I think they left."
    "they left?"
    "I think they went back to their hotel."
    I looked at my watch.
    "it's only 3am."
    "I know, weird, right?"
    "fuck, what now?"
    "what do you mean? I'm not done drinking."
    "well, yeah, I hear you."
    He finished his cigarette."Come on."
    We crossed the street. There was Jack. He was laying across a table in front of the pizza place.
    "what the hell."
    "he might be past the point of no return."
    I pulled on Jack's shirt sleeve, since it was Spandex it didn't pull so well.
    "...just leave me."
    "what?"
    "...go on."
    I expected him to say, save yourselves.
    "come on, get up."
    How the hell had he gotten so drunk so quickly? He couldn't even stand up.
    "you found that chick?"
    "I found that chick." he said.
    "the bartender?" Matt said.
    "what bartender?" Jack said.
    "let's get a cab." I said. I went to the curb and stood watch. Matt helped Jack to his feet.
    "you gonna puke."
    "I don't puke."
    It was true. I knew that. He couldn't drink but he also couldn't puke.
    "I need to go home." he said.
    I leaned in and told Matt we were gonna go uptown on the way. Stop at a few more places.
    "couple more beers. You can handle it." I said.
    "home."
    "water." I told Matt. "he will just drink water.
    A cab pulled up and we climbed inside.

    We got out of the cab at 75th street on the upper west side. Jack couldn't really stand on his own. We had to carry him like we were carrying a wounded soldier off the battlefield, his feet dragging.
    I pointed at the neon sign.
    "this is the place, Matt."
    Halfway up the stone steps, Jack just become complete dead weight and we had to set him down.
    "come on man, get up, you can't lay on the steps while we go in the bar."
He said something incoherent.
    I opened up the door.
    "we can't leave him here like that."
    "This place has a fish tank. It has a jukebox. You gotta see this jukebox."
     "Sure. I think Jack is going to choke on his own throw up, is all."
     We looked down at him there. Lifeless. Though he appeared happy to be out. Was that a small smile I detected?
     "If he starts to choke, I'll be right there to pour a beer down his throat to wash the vomit away."
     "You said a jukebox?"
    "we'll be right at the bar, we will have a clear view if the cops show up. That happens we'll spring into action."
    "shit."
    Then, Matt just followed me in and we sat down at the bar. The place was pretty dead, but there was a really great bartender. She was no nonsense. She poured the beer as if she had brewed it herself. Not a drop wasted.
    "those guys really split quick on us."Matt said.
    "yeah.." then I explained to Matt what had happened with the best man. How he had been grilling me about Jack. Matt just laughed. He pointed out that the wedding was going to be awkward now.
    "you think?"
    "probably."
    "I think it will be a good time."
    "Which one of you two are getting married, or are you marrying each other?" The bartender asked.
    "No, our friend getting married, already went home. Nice send off. Guy is drooling on his rented pillow as we speak."
    "What? It's early." She looked at the clock, "It's not even 4, yet."
    "I know, right. Doesn't everybody know that they are gonna die one day?"
    "Oh that!" She said, "People forget."
    "And it annoys them when you remind them."
    "Rust sets in."
     "It's now or never again."
     "Cheers."
     "This one is on me." She said.
    Then, as she dealt our beers, the doorman walks out of the bathroom beside the jukebox. I knew what was coming. I motioned for Matt to drink quick.
It didn't take long, the doorman came right in and said to me and Matt, "Do you know this kid on the steps with the spandex shirt and the cowboy boots?"
    I hesitated. Then said, "Yes, he is a close friend, what about him."
    "if you don't get him off the steps in thirty seconds, I'm gonna call the fucking cops."
    "one more round." I told the bartender.
    She thought that was just about the funniest thing she ever heard.
    It's nice to have a bartender on your side, if even fleetingly.

    We get another cab, find our way the rest of the way uptown. It’s tough getting Jack up the stairs to my apartment, but we manage, you know, as we would manage a dead body if we had to.
    I put him on the couch, but he keeps getting off the couch and laying down on the hardwood floor with no blankets or sheets.
    I’m sitting at my kitchen table shooting the shit with Matt still, we’re still drinking, because there is a lot of shit to shoot on a Saturday night in the spring of your youth.
    “Hey, pal, what’s wrong with the couch?”
    “I like the floor.”
    “You want a blanket, or a pillow or something.”
    “I’m fine, I like the floor.”
    I like Jack. There is nobody like him. I don’t mind taking care of him when he gets out of bounds. When he gets banged up. He would do the same for me. You’ve got to find your own. You’ve got to take care of your own.
    “Enjoy the floor.” Matt says.
    “Thanks.”
    “what the Hell is that?” Matt says.
    “What?”
    “Is that the sun?”
    “Yes, it is the sun. It’s coming up.”
    “You know what that means.”
    “Another beer?”
    “Yes, and eggs.”
    “Ahhhhh, breakfast.”
    “breakfast.”
    “You want toast?” but he didn’t answer.
    “Hey,” he said, “I think I’m in love, you ever have that happen to you?”
    “yes, I have.” I said, “her name is Phyllis.”
    “You better stay away from my girl. Phyllis is all mine.”
    “She’s your’s buddy.”
    “In a perfect world, I would always have bacon in this fridge.”
    “Nothing is that perfect. We have to accept it.”
    “Sure, sure.”
    "We should just go to the corner store and get bacon."
    “I would…”
    “Oh fuck, Cinco De Mayo.”
     "Remember what that girl on the subway said to you?"
     "That I missed my chance." I nodded.
     "Worst thing you'll ever hear in your life."
      
  

Lucky

  I used to try and catch the wild cats. They seemed to be everywhere.
    I took a bowl from the cabinet and filled it with half & half, placed that on the front porch and hid behind the wood pile.
    There wasn't a sound anywhere except for the bird. The Grackle who lived in the holly thicket and should have left by now. Summer was long over and that bird should have fled to warmer stations, but it had not for some reason.
    Everything else had.
    We lived in Cedar Creek Campground. Past Labor day. The tents were gone. The pool was closed. The only remaining people were the ones with RVs who might still come on the weekends until the cold broke sometime near Thanksgiving and the possibility of frozen pipes sent them away until the Spring.
    We lived in a rented house. We would be there during the snow. They would not.
    I used to try to catch the wild cats.
    Why not? I was a lonely child and there was nothing to do. My friends had all disappeared. Their vacation was over. I was alone in an empty campground and bored out of my mind. At least if I caught one of the cats, I could have some kind of company. Even if by design, a cat, had no use for a human. Somehow, when I was seven, I had use for a cat.
    All the wild cats who roamed around the campground were jet black. They haunted the dumpsters near where the canoes were stored, but since I had been putting out tuna fish and milk every day, to my fathers annoyance, they had began to come up to our house. Roam around near our porch. It hadn't quite gotten to the point where they would eat the tuna or drink the milk, but, sometimes I would see them from the living room window, pouring themselves over fences like a drop of water slipping off a leaf. Prowling around in our yard. Watching, waiting. Weighing the consequence. It was only a matter of time.
    I sat crouched, in turn, watching and waiting for one of the wild cats. It was my plan to catch one. Reign it in. Can you ever do that with something that is wild?
    Then, from around the back of the house, came a small grey cat. It came walking up, kind of stumbling and  unsure. Not watching. Not waiting. Not weighing the consequences. After a brief period of realization, it went up into the porch. Right to the bowl of half & half.
    That's when I jumped out from behind the wood pile and scooped it up. I opened the door to the house and sprang inside. Stunned. The both of us. The cat was really just a kitten. All bubble belly and ineffective needle teeth and claws that barely worked yet. It didn’t hiss. It opened it’s mouth, but didn’t even cry. I would have cried if a giant had raised me up and was holding me like it was about to crush me.
    I charged down the hallway and opened up my mom’s door. It was the middle of the day but she was still asleep from her night shift at the factory. The room was a place suitable for vampires. Heavy shades. A sliver of light will vaporize you.
    “I CAUGHT ONE!”
    She sat right up.
    “Huh?”
    “I CAUGHT ONE! I CAUGHT ONE!”
    I turned the light switch on and almost blinded her. I stuck the cat in her face. She couldn't believe what she saw.
    Then there was the whole business, of, your father won’t let you keep the cat.
    “You can’t keep it.”


    What happened, was this: the previous night my mother got out of the factory at 2am and went through town. There was a 24 hour A&P Grocery still alive. We needed eggs, milk and fish sticks. Walking from her Ford into the lights, she ran into a woman with a box of kittens at the automatic doors.
    “Can you take a kitten home? They need good homes.”
    “I can’t. My husband would kill me.”
    So, she went into the 24 hour lights and did the logical thing. She left the grocery store with eggs, fish sticks and a kitten.
    She forgot the milk.
    That’s why I had to put out a saucer of half and half to try to catch the wild cats.
    My mom drove through the dark, watching the cat climb around on the passenger seat. Dammit. She couldn’t take the cat into the house. She kept thinking about my father's reaction when she showed up with a cat, when he had said so many times that he didn't like cats. So, my mom let the kitten go beside the holly thicket when she got home to the camp ground and figured that it would just become one of the wild cats.
    It must have been a long night for that cat, but I imagine it falling asleep after a while and finding a little bed for itself in the leaves inside the thicket. I also think, that it was woken up the same way I was, by the jarring, ugly voice of the Grackle.

    Then, the next morning.
    I caught it.
    “I put out a bowl of half & half and when it was drinking it, I caught it!”
    “Good job.”
    “There was no milk.”
    “The milk, damn. I forgot to buy the milk.” She said.
    “Dad will let me keep him.”
    “I don’t think so.”

    When my father came home from work, I let him take his work boot off. I let him shower. I let him drink a cup of coffee. I answered all his questions about my homework and about what was going on in the third grade.
    The fish sticks were out of the oven and on the table. French Fries too.
    After dinner, right before mom had to leave for her shift, I said to my father, “I caught one of the wild cats.”
    “You did?”
    “Wanna see?”
    I went down the hallway and brought the cat out. I had made him a little bed inside a shoe box.
    “Can I keep him? I want to keep him.”
    “I shouldn’t let you.”
    “Please.”
    “I don’t know.” He said, “You won’t take care of it.”
    “I will.”
    He looked me over for a minute, grinned.
    “You can call that cat, Lucky.” He said.
    Lucky, he could stay, Lucky he had found his way on the porch. Lucky for a lot of reasons.
    I was too.

A Christmas Short Story

       We were latch key kids. Everyday after school we were alone in the house for a few hours and could do whatever we wanted. Whatever we wanted as long as we covered our tracks before our parents came home from work.

      I remember the fist time that we found our Christmas presents. We found them, right away. Not even a challenge.
     "Found them." my little brother said.
     "where?"
     "moms closet, behind her boots."
     "behind her boots?" it was vaguely disappointing to me to find out that she would pick such a disrespectful place to hide our gifts. I mean, we weren't stupid little kids anymore. I was 9 my brother was 8.

So, the two of us went into their room and stood there looking at the pile of our presents. Bright, glossy boxes, colored pencils, scented markers, Hot Wheels, squirt guns...
      "which ones are yours?"
      "all of them." I said.
      "NO WAY"
     "Way."

      So, that was that. We closed the closet and casually went about killing each other until the sun went down and they came home to make us eat fish stick dinner and force us to wash the filth from our bodies.

      When we opened all of our presents, our mother must have noted our lack of surprise. She must have also noted this comment, "I got the HOT WHEELS! I knew it! See, all the presents weren't yours."

      The next year, in the closet, behind even more boots, the god damn presents were wrapped.
     "look what you did"
     "I didn't do it."
     "it was that stupid comment. Don't you know, loose lips sink ships."
     "huh?"

      For a minute we stood there, just looking, looking, looking.
 

     "at least they have our names on the tags! We can tell which size boxes are ours."
     "yeah..."
    "you don't have x ray vision, do you?"
    "yeah."
    "you do! What am I getting. What's in this box?"
    "oh that one, that's a box full of goose shit."
    "GOOSE SHIT?!"
    "Goose shit."
    "I don't believe you."
     Then we stood there looking, just looking. Looking. 

"we could just open them."
"they'lll kill us."
"sure, you're right, it's not worth dying over."
"put me in the dryer instead, that sounds like a better idea."
Off we went.

The following year, there we were in mom's closet, surrounded by even more boots. We had Exacto razor knives. We were slitting the scotch tape, precisely, little tiny surgeons.

"don't cut the paper, just the tape."
"I know, I know!"

With the tape sliced away, the neatly wrapped boxes opened up with ease, flapping up, revealing our presents underneath.

"I got a light saber!"
"I got a light saber too!"
"I'm gonna cut your hand off."
"I'm gonna cut your hand off!"

After we opened all of our gifts, and noted the excellence of each one, we folded the wrapping paper back down and re scotch taped over the old scotch tape.

The following year, older and bolder, we cut the tape, opened up the wrapping paper, took the god damn toys right out of their boxes. Played the Hell out of them every day for two weeks before Christmas.

On Christmas morning, after opening up our gifts, we took our favorite present, Contra, a game for Nintendo featuring a pair of 8 bit commandos teaming up to machine gun the living fuck out of an endless barrage of Aliens. We plopped down on the shaggy living room floor, turned the game on, typed in the code, "up up down down left right left right b, a, select, start."

We matched right through the game, no problem. Our parents watched over our shoulder. We didn't die more than four times each. Mom and dad knew right away that something was up.

We were in trouble.

The following year, to our horror, the presents weren't in moms closet.
"all it is a shit load of more boots!"
We checked dads closet. Not there either. Fuck. Not in the attic. Not in the crawl space. Not hidden under the back porch. Not in the woods. Not in the trunk of either one of their cars.

The presents werent nowhere to be found.

"maybe we aren't getting any."
"they don't have the balls."
"you think?"
"I know."
"how do you know?"
"if we don't get presents we'll burn the house down."
"true."

What they had done, rather craftily, is to move the presents to a safe location.

We found out later, that the entire time we searched our house and the surrounding area for our gifts, they were tucked safely away at Uncle Tom's house across town.

Our kids are assholes, our parents said, they keep finding their presents, opening thier presents and ruining Christmas.

Sure, no sweat, Uncle Tom will keep these presents tucked away safely from these Jr. detective Christmas ruining assholes.

Only problem, is that Uncle Tom was a heavy drinker. A pitch perfect alcoholic. He would come home from work, get into the bottle, get ripped up, get bored and open up alll of our presents. Take them out of the box. Play with them. Then, a few days before Christmas, he had to re-wrap everything and he did such a bad job re-wrapping, and he forgot half of the tags on the boxes and the other half that he did put on, he mixed up, so that I got my brothers new seat for his dirt bike and he got my hunting bow even though he doesn't go hunting.

My mom was very silent, my dad was too. We were really quiet too. Finally she said, "fuck it. Next year, you guys can come with us to the toy store two weeks before Christmas, you can pick out all your presents. Save us all this trouble."

We were all so happy, even though it wasn't snowing. The cat swan dove into the wrapping paper and was not seen again until the Turkey came out of the oven.

Good Deeds/Being Watched

  

      GOOD DEEDS


all kinds of good deeds
we do them in our dreams
we kill terrorists and nazis
we send Godzilla back to the sea
and we ride the life eternal
of movie stars and superheroes
into the sunset of our golden years
yes, all kinds of good deeds
we can’t be bothered while awake
we  do them in our dreams







                 ABOUT
                 US


    our displaced
    energy
    could
    re-route
    rivers
    and
    approaching
    bombs
    had we any
    reason






    Lubv Birds


get glue for all the peeled up feathers
that have tumbled off my fake blue wings
everybody knows I'm a red red bird
everybody knows you are a red red bird
why did we glue blue feathers on our red wings
and why did we sand paper
the gold from our beaks?
and why did we drop our eggs from ledges high
instead of letting them burst open
in our home by the river?
I don't know why I act so stupid
and why I let you act so stupid
and why you let me act so stupid
we are divebomb fliers
and our claws are razor pliers
we are scatterhearts,
we never know what we want
but we stay together in the middle of storms
and we stay together in the midst of snipers
and the sound of the hungry cats sends you huddled to me
and the sound of the crazy cats
sends me huddled to you
it doesn't matter as long as we are allowed to go down together




Being
 Watched


when all else fails
I will be good
when all else fails
I will be good
when all else fails
I will be good

The Obligatory Zombie Play

There are three people sitting on the ground in a dark room illuminated by a lantern that is almost out of power. There has been an outbreak of zombies, which is presently there chief concern, as the zombies cannot yet get in, but they cannot yet escape because of ummmmm the zombies, which are right outside the door, waiting and moaning, and such.

Chris: I think I'm ready to give up hope.

Bill: Then just give up hope, you don't need to talk about it.

Chris: I would kill myself if I could find something to kill myself with.

Sarah: No, don't say that.

Chris: Well, I would...

Bill: When the lantern finally really burns out, you could swallow the lantern, it would block your windpipe, no air would pass, that would be it..

Chris: I wish I had a gun

Sarah: It would help against the zombies, surely

Chris: Not to bumm you guys out, but I had plans long before all of this and those plans involved me ending my life- I wish I hadn't delayed... If we had a gun right now, I don't think there would be any doubts about what we should do with it

Sarah: Suicide is so sad

Chris: To think about how miserable that job made me, life made me, ehhh, horrible. I should have stayed in Minnesota and killed myself instead of moving to Queens and taking that job.

Sarah: Look on the bright side, if you had stayed there, we would be dead- if it wasn't for you and those cans of tuna fish, me and Bill here would be eating dirt to survive.


Bill: You may very well have lived a pointless life, but I am glad that you were on my train when the bottom fell out

Chris: What a very bad chain of events. (motioning to Sarah)
I saw you on the subway, you always looked happy...

Sarah: I had a good job and I had a good life, a nice apartment, a friendly dog.


Bill: Me too, but all of that is over, we have to think of the future


Chris: No such thing. Hey would any of you two be willing to strangle me, or I don't know, give me your shoe laces so that I can hang myself.

Sarah: Absolutely not. Come on, cheer up!

Chris: Ok ok ok, I'll try. Oh shit!  I'd love to just jump out there and see how many of them I could take down with a shotgun before they surrounded me and ripped me apart.

Bill: Too many of them, it wouldn't be a help. The best thing to do, is to wait it out and well... think about what we can do as men and women to preserve the future of mankind

Sarah: Oh please don't get on that again, not the best time to make propositions, eh?

Bill: I'm just saying that it would be for the good of mankind.


Chris: You two screwing in a subway maintenance room isn't going to save humanity.

Bill: I disagree

Sarah: Not happening. Not gonna do anything with you, Bill.

Bill: But it would help pass some time, bring a little joy into our bleak lives. Five days in a dark room with you two has been very bleak... I mean, thanks alot for the suicide threats and the stories about your gas station attendant days in Minnesota, and Sarah, thanks for your optimism and your general sexxy aura, but... action speaks louder than words and we have a debt to fulfill

Chris: I don't want kids

Bill: I don't think it's up to you at this point, in order to...

Sarah: Yeah yeah I know, preserve humanity... well just leave me alone, ok, not happening. I'm engaged. (holding up her hand with the wedding ring on it)

Bill: Still, how can you be sure.

Sarah: That what, the zombies didn't get my fiance? I know, ok.

Bill: And how do you know

Sarah: I know in my heart, and if John was dead I would just know in my heart.

Chris: You are very optimistic, thankfully you are here to keep us all in good spirits.

Sarah: Well, there is no reason to give up hope. Hopes a good thing. I don't think suicide is a good answer and I don't think sex is either... we just have to wait it out.


Chris: I can hear them out there, they are waiting, maybe we shouldn't talk


Sarah: Oh, I would rather get eaten by zombies then to sit here in complete silence

Bill: Agreed, hey, you know what, I just had an idea...

Sarah: what?

Bill: Maybe if me and you started fucking then the zombies would hear our moans of passion and confuse them for zombie moans and they would become disinterested in our living flesh, and well, press on, thinking our living flesh was zombie flesh.

Sarah: Not gonna happen, you see this...(holding up the wedding ring)

Bill: Sorry, sorry, don't mind me, just trying to save the world.

Sarah: You saved us, thank you, yeah if it wasn't for you they would have eaten us like everybody else on the L train.

Bill: Well, I just did what ever I could do. I used to sneak into this room to catch naps and smoke cigarettes when I got tired of sweeping up. I always dreamed of getting a beautiful young buinsess girl in here alone, now as soon as Chris kills himself, I will get my wish.

Chris: Ok, now in spite, i am going to keep living, keep your shoelaces asshole... (Bill shrigs and begins to retie his laces) Yeah, thanks for saving my life even though I wanted to die and still want to die.

Bill: No sweat kid, I know how you feel. I see a lot of people in this  subway, I can tell by the look on their face that 1/4 of them are thinking about jumping in front of the train, and that's just on a regular manhatten morning, forget about the end of the world mornings like we've been having. They stand there on the platform, and I see that look, the look, ohhhh- I expect a lot more of them to jump down then the ones tat do. Every once in a while somebody does. It is all part of that fake big apple dream, very romanticized....this i'm gonna jump off the empire state building, or i'm gonna jump infront of the F train...Once I saw a guy jump down onto the tracks and he was standing there waiting for the train to come and hit him. I was all alone, it was like three in the morning.

Sarah: Oh my god

Bill: Yeah, he was just standing there with his arms out his legs spread, he looked like a big X. I was sweeping, like I said, and then I stopped sweeping and walked to the edge of the platform, and I just stood there looking at him. After a minute it became kind of awkward. he was crying, I said, hey, you know, that train is done for awhile... its gonna be like twenty minutes, late night and all.

Chris: what did he say

Bill: He didn't say much, he just stood there, a big X, crying. Then after a minute, he put his arms down so that he was no longer an X and he walked to the edge of the platform and I had to reach my hand down to pick him up.

Sarah: Suicide is so sad.

Bill: The guy picked up his bag and walked up the steps back into the port authority, still crying.

Chris: I'm sure he had a good reason.

Bill: Yeah, I'm sure too. The world is fucked up. Probably why we got all of these zombies. All of the racism and fast food and crappy sitcoms and car bombs and homeless people and lack of faith, we deserve to be eaten alive by the living dead. The human race had this coming, my uncle was a minister, he used t always say to us kids, ya know world is gonna end revelation... revelation, motherfucking zombies gonna come, zombies gonna come, have a plan! Know Jesus have a plan!


Sarah: Deep. And you probably thought he was crazy, saying that...

Bill: You would have too, we were standing around a mental ward, he was crazy! We used to go visit him in the home, he attacked his nurse with a spear that he made from a cardboard tube and a sharpened garden spade, we were all surprised that she lived, that was terrible... terrible, and he was getting old and looney, said that he thought that she was a zombie. ZOMBIE! Imagine that! Said it was the way she walked, see she was a real weird lady, walked like she had broken legs, couldn't get around that fast.

Sarah: John had a dream that something bad was gonna happen, only in his dream, it wasn't zombies...

Chris: What was it?

Sarah: Giant Rabbits.

Bill: From outer space (laughing)

Sarah: It would be no more ridiculous than this.

Chris: (laughing) No, That would be more ridiculous.

Sarah: How do you figure? And also, I don't appreciate you calling my finance ridiculous (smirking)

Bill: Ex finance, respectively

Sarah: Actually, any minute now, we'll probably hear gun fire and he'll kick down the door- to save me. Of course, in defense of my honor he'll have to kick your ass a few times for all of the lewd remarks. (smirking) I'm kidding.

Bill: I know karate, wouldn't matter bout your honor.

Sarah: He's a fire fighter.

Bill: I used to beat up firefighters all the time.

Chris: I hope he brings a big mac.

Bill: You eat that shit?

Chris: Yeah, I eat that shit. Death wish, remember.

Sarah: What's the deal with the death wish, what happened?

Chris: Nothing.

Sarah: Nothing?

Bill: Yeah, yeah, heard this before. I had a depressed uncle, you remind me of him- only he had a reason to be depressed.

Chris: what was his reason?

Bill: He lived in georgia ghetto and his father was a crazy minister who threw a spear into his nurse, who said the world was gonna end.

Chris: I loved a girl and she didn't love me.

Bill: You know how many times that happened to me?

Chris: How many?

Bill: Must have been ten million times a year, sweeping garbage in the subway, you see all those beautiful intelligent women- easy to fall in love. Always in love, man, always.

Chris: This one girl in particular, when she left me- that was it, game over. I came to the city to find her.

Sarah: That's romantic

Chris: She has a restraining order on me.

Sarah: That's romantic.

Chris: I got drunk and tried to break her door down. She thought I was trying to rape her. I was just trying to give her the birthday present I bought her... I came all the way from Minnesota on a bus, then the bitch won't even let me see her...

Bill: What did yo get her?

Chris: Sex in the City Season Two on DVD. Turns out she had it anyway, big deal.

Sarah: But the thought was beautiful, and inspiring... that there could be a love strong enough to make you want to kick down a door to get to her.

Chris: I wound up getting maced by the police, which is actually ten million times worse than I had ever guessed it would be.

Bill: I been maced, its no fun. You ever been peppersprayed?

Chris: No.

Sarah: I carry pepperspray.

Bill: I know, I saw you try to use it on that bag lady

Sarah: In my defense, I thought that she was a zombie.

Chris: When you are panicked, you don't think. She might have been a zombie, but, she was sitting next to me on the train, and... well-

Sarah: well, I feel awful

Bill: She would have been devoured regardless, don't dwell...

Sarah: So much to dwell on.

Chris: No sense crying over spilled milk, or stolen ideas. That's another thing that kills me about Heather... it was always my idea to move to New York, I always said that i hated Minnesota and that i was going to move to New York, and she says that she loves Minnesota and wants to live in Minnesota forever, and then she dumps me and moves to New York and I think that its just a test and I come to new york and she won't see me. So I'm living in a rotten collapsing hotel, and then still trying to get her to see me, and its not happening and getting too drunk on a saturday night and trying to give her Sex in the City season Two on DVD and the next thing I know BLINDED!

Sarah: By love...

Chris: By the police, dragged into jail, left to die in detainment.

Sarah: Things will work out with you two.

Chris: I'm not feeling too strong about it.

Bill: Yeah after the zombies are gone, you tow love birds will move in together and watch Sex in the City, eat big macs, play nintendo and do kama sutra.

Chris: I hope.

Bill: Crazier things have happened. Like zombies.

The lantern in the room has dimmed to an ultimate last gasp.

Sarah: Well that looks like the end of the light.

Bill: We were lucky to have it as long as it lasted. Thankfully I am a pack rat, and this was my rat den... and thanks to the kid for all of the tuna fish.

Chris: I stole that. I steal feel guily.

Sarah: Forget it!

Chris: never stole anything in my life, I was out of money, just had enough for the ticket back...

Bill: No sense getting all weepy, I wish that you had stolen some D batteries, then we could have some light.

Darkness envelopes them. The sound of the zombies outside the door is the only sound. Then a sound can be heard in the room, motion.

Sarah: what are you doing? Knock it off.

Bill: Oh, sorry...

Sarah: Hey, stop!

Chris: Hey, leave her alone.

The sound of a small struggle.

Bill: Ok Ok, I get the hint.

Sarah: I still have that pepperspray, for your information...

Bill: I'm just being realistic

Sarah: Right now, what you just tried to do seems like the most unrealistic thing that could ever happen in these circumstances.


Then, an odd blue light comes through the wall of the room, and the darkness is broken partially. Ryan, a ghost enters. He is a ghost in his early twenties, he is dressed in a canadian tuxedo, blue jeans, blue jean jacket- he has large sideburns and wears a dream catcher

Ryan: Don't be scared.

Chris screams, Bill screams.

Ryan: I'm a friendly ghost.

Sarah: Really

Ryan: yeah (motioning towards the door) My body is out there trying to get in here and well, devour all of you.

Bill: Tell it to knock it off.

Ryan: It won't listen, I've tried.

Bill: Try harder.

Sarah: What's going on out there, is help coming?

Ryan: I have no idea. I don't think so.

Chris: that is disconcerting

Ryan: How do you think I feel? Shit, this is fucked up... I was reading poetry in the tunnel when out of nowhere, I get chomped on the neck and the hand and then... well, ghost in da house!

Bill: Sorry.

Ryan: My body has been on a killing spree, it drifted up through Bryant park with the rest of the horde eating people all through times square... tourists who deserved kicks in the head but not zombie attacks!

Sarah: The city is in ruins.

Ryan: Very very ruined. A lot of people evacuated, but let me put it to you this way... New York city is not a good place to be right now. This is probably the real end of the world.

Bill: How is your body holding up

Ryan: starting to rot. It's hot down here and it was pouring rain for two days- apparently, zombies don't like the rain, and they aren't intelligent enough to operate umbrellas. (suddenly annoyed) I was a fucking Buddhist, how do you think that makes me feel about watching my body eat people! Innocent people!

Sarah: Not good.

Ryan: DUH! When I was alive I never even hurt a FLY, literally if I was walking around and I saw a bug, I would FUCKING STEP OUT OF THE WAY. GOD!!

Bill: So what now?

Ryan: So what now what?

Bill: well, how do we get out of here?

Ryan: I don't know how you can get out of here.

Sarah: Well, is there some secret door or escape hatch that we don't know about, or...

Ryan: Nope.

Chris: Can you create a distraction and we'll make a run for it.

Ryan: Run for it? You are completely engulfed in a sea of the undead. Plus there is no place to run.

Sarah: Food (shrugging) any food?

Ryan: I can't carry anything, I'm a ghost... I would if I could, but, well... ghost, so... sorry.

An awkward silence passes. Ryan begins to tap his foot. Chris coughs.

Ryan: So what are you guys up to?

Sarah: Nothing much, starving to death in the dark, dunno.

Ryan: Oh, that's cool. You guys mind if I hang out, kind of boring out there...

Bill: Fine, yeah.

Chris: It's kind of nice, you glow a nice blue color, like a faint fire. Much better than being in the dark.

Ryan: yeah, that's the only nice part I like about being a ghost. The blue fire is nice. walking through walls is awesome also.

Chris: Can you fly?

Ryan: a little bit, its exhausting though... I don't know how birds do it.

Sarah: Birds have hollow bones.

Ryan: Oh yeah, well I don't have any bones.

Sarah: You don't have wings...

Bill: what does being dead feel like?

Ryan: Feels the same. Just very boring, nobody to talk to, and I'm kinda bummed, I thought that there would be an afterlife or something... now, well- I don't know what is gonna happen. But i guess that's everybody.

Bill: That's probably the biggest common thread among humanity, we're all worried about what is gonna happen.

Chris: Dogs worry too

Sarah: I hope my dog is fine.

Ryan: Zombies don't like the way that dogs taste.

Sarah: I am so worried about her, and John...

Ryan: Oh... I could check in on them...

Sarah: Would you?

Ryan: Yeah sure, no sweat. (snapping fingers, suddenly dissapears)

Chris: Weird.

Bill: Yeah

Then suddenly the ghost rematerializes.

Ryan: the dog's fine, John wasn't home. She says hello, by the way.

Sarah: You talk to dogs, of course.

Ryan: She misses you and is hungry.

Chris: Don't say anything about food.

Bill: Yeah. We ran out yesterday, and what we ran out from was just that old jar of olives that I kept on the shelf.

Sarah: I don't ever want to imagine an olive again. Spam and olives... what a horrible last meal.

Bill: At least there is one comfortable chair for us to take turns sitting in... I still kick myself for not having a can opener in here.

Chris: (to ryan) We thought, what would an otter do? Then we broke the cans open on the brick wall... that's how I almost cut this finger off (holding up his hand, the finger looks infected)

Ryan: You better have that looked at.

Sarah: That's what we said, it looks bad, right.

Bill: You ever had to eat tuna fish with dirt and soot and pieces of brick in it? No good, no good. I grew up in Georgia and we were poor, but we never had to eat brick  crumb tuna, like a bunch of animals waiting around to die... and my wife always laughed at how much I played the lotto. Every man has to dream, even if that dream is ridiculous.

Chris: you got lucky numbers?

Bill: My daughters birthday. 11 25 81. Then I play 23 because that was Micheal Jordan's numbers and I throw in two sevens, for well, duh, sevens are motherfucking GOOD luck!

Sarah: That's sweet, that you play your daughters birthday.

Bill: They're both probably zombies now. My little girl and my wife- And don't bother getting all teary eyed, I'm not being senti mental... just a realist

Ryan: Almost definetly they are zombies, everybody is now.

Bill: I played the lotto five days a week, last twenty nine years... probably got the winner in my pocket right now. (to Ryan) Something been killing me, you see last Wednesdays Power Six drawing?

Ryan: No, you want me to check?

Bill: Would you check?

Ryan: Sure. (Ryan snaps his fingers and dissapears)

Chris: Seems kind of desperate

Sarah: Oh come on, he's nice...

Bill: He is desperate, I remember him, he was always reading bad poems and beating on a tambourine. It was bad enough, then him and that weird flute guy got together and you had to deal with bad subway poetry combined with bad subway flute.

Chris: I'm not into ghosts

Bill: Who is? They are majorly freaky.

Sarah: Scared?

Chris: A little. I grew up on a haunted farm, this isn't the first ghost I ever saw, the other one wasn't as... well friendly.

Sarah: You saw a ghost? (she sounds skeptical)

Chris: Yeah. I saw a ghost, just like, you just saw a ghost! and well, it wasn't pleasent. I think it is one of the main reasons why I have always been depressed.

Sarah: It scared you that bad, I'm sorry.Maybe you saw a ghost just now, but i didn't see a ghost, a saw a hallucination brought on by lack of food and water and possibly rotten olives and hysteria and stress and shock...

Chris: I'm embarrassed to say what really happened, I never told anybody.

Bill: Don't start now.

Sarah: No, go on, just say it, you'll feel better.


Chris: Well when I was little, I was molested, by a ghost.

Sarah: Oh.

There is a silence, a long silence.

Sarah: Molested by a ghost! Impossible.

Bill: I saw a UFO, but I had just staining the hardwood floors in a pancake house.

Sarah: No such thing as UFOs.

Chris: We are surrounded by the living dead, ghosts are checking our lottery tickets, I don't think now is a good time to be skeptical, and yeah I was molested by a ghost and it has made me uncomfortable ever since with the idea of... well everything.

Sarah: I just don't see the logic in believing in ghosts or god or... whats next unicorns, big foot? No offense to you Chris, or you Bill. As an engineer, I just don't see the scientific backing for...

Bill: I have a friend who saw big foot in Montreal, explain that.

Ryan rematerializes. There is a Chinese man, who is also a ghost who also materializes. This man glows with a green fire, he holds a flute.

Ryan: Hey, I want to introduce you to Jimmy.

Jimmy: Hi everybody.

Ryan: It was a crazy coincidence, I was checking the lottery numbers at the new stand and there was Jimmy! We used to entertain in these tunnels, now I guess we are doomed for all time to haunt them.

Jimmy: (nodding to Bill) Hey, I know you.

Bill: yeah, I know know you too, Hello. You're the flute guy.

Jimmy: That's me! Good memory. And you are the broom man, the sweeper.  Good to see you again.

Sarah: Hi.

Chris: Hello.

Ryan: Bill, you're not going to believe this, but last wednesdays numbers were 11 29 81 7 25 and 7... yo got five out of the 6!!! You have any idea what that pays!!

Bill: HOLY SHIT! I WON I WON!! (Bill jumps up. He runs in a circle around the maintenance room. He kisses Sarah on the cheek, he tosstles Chris's hair, he dances for a moment...) I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!

Ryan: I don't think anybody claimed  the money either cause like the whole east coast was swarmed with zombies the day after the drawing, you are looking at a good hunk of change even on 5 numbers...

Jimmy: Congrats (he plays a few crazy notes on the flute in celebration)

Sarah: yeah congratulation Bill.

Bill: Now I can finally get Kim that house she's always wanted... goodbye shithole death trap apartment... and I can send Claire to college without her worrying about debt! Oh lucky fucking day!

Chris: But...

Bill: yeah, I know what you're gonna say, and don't even think about saying it. (A look of grief comes over Bills face. But he smiles again anyway. Kissing the lottery ticket, placing it back in his wallet. Putting the lottery ticket away.)

Ryan: Things are looking up. The rain stopped, the zombies are filing out of the tunnel, slow but steady. Its still certain death toleave but... well, at least they aren't right outside the door.

Jimmy: Those things are so dumb!

Ryan: Yeah, almost as dumb as turkeys. I was a vegetarian but I would eat turkeys because they were the dumbest animals in the world.

Sarah: Turkeys are stupid, that's a fact.

Chris: What makes them so stupid.

Sarah: When it rains, a turkey looks up at the rain transfixed with its mouth open and drowns.

Bill sits down in his chair, he is quite. He is staring off into space.

Ryan: These zombies do the same thing, they look up at the rain with their mouth open, except they can't drown because they are already dead so their bellies fill up and swell and swell and then burst. The smarter ones hang out waiting for trains that aren't coming anymore... so on.

Bill: Where is the army, where are the tanks!

Ryan: I don't know...

Chris: Fuck this, this sucks...

Ryan: It could be worse, really it could be.

Chris: I don't see how.

Jimmy: What's your problem? Chill out.

Chris: I don't like ghosts alright.

Jimmy: What kind of a thing is that to say!

Ryan: Hey, he didn't mean anything by it.

Chris: Sure I did.

Jimmy: Look, I don't appreciate rascists- keep your nazi rascist comments to yourself

Chris: Rascist?

Jimmy: Yeah, you got a problem with me cause of my race, ghost is a race you know... asshole.

Sarah: How is ghost a race.

Bill: It is, dudes dead, he's not a chinaman no more, now he's a ghost.

Ryan: Yeah, (motioning to Bill) just like when you die you won't be black anymore, you'll be a ghost.

Bill: Fuck that, I'll still be black. I'm proud of my heritage.

Jimmy: I came in here to play some nice flute, I didn't come in here to listen to rascist anti ghost comments.

Sarah: In his defense, he is completely insane...

Chris: Mind your own business Miss Goody two shoes.

Sarah: No, go on, tell your hallucinations what you said before...

Jimmy: Hallucinations? Excuse me for trying to bring some entertainment to the table...

Bill: Don't mind those two, that one is a scientific prude who won't give it up and that one over there is a sad pathetic loser who claims, get this... that a ghost molested him as a child in Minnesota.

Jimmy: Fuck you!

Ryan: I don't appeciate that brand of hate, how could a ghost have molested you!

Chris: It happened.

Ryan: Impossible.

Jimmy: yeah, for instance, I want to punch you right in our face right now for suggesting such a hateful claim, but I can't, because GHOSTS CAN'T MAKE CONTACT WITH THE LIVING!!

Chris: I know what happened, and I know how uncomfortable it made me feel with myself ever since, so don't...

Jimmy: Don't what.

Sarah: Can we change the subject please.

Chris: No, now that I started this, i want to end it. This is what happened... I was lying in my bed, hugging my teddy bear and the closet opened and the moon was full and it was shining right htrough the window and I saw a ghost in a white sheet with the eyes cut out and it had chains, shackles, and it was moaning and it came closer ot me and it said, "Christopher... lye down and close your eyes and if yo say a word, I will haunt you forever, boo booo booo!"

Ryan: I'm out of here.

Jimmy: (in disgust) yeah me too. later on biggots.

The ghosts disapear.

Bill: We're better off without them.

Sarah: Yeah, at least now its quiet...

Bill: Any second those two were going to break into flute playing and poetry recital... I could sense it.

Chris: I'm gonna hold my breath until it kills me.

Sarah: that wouldn't work.

Bill: When my daughter was four years old she threw a temper tantrum and held her breath until she got her way, she didn't get her way and we had to spend the night in the emergency room- she tuned blue and they had to shock her with the defibrillator. Bad way to find out your little girl has a bad heart.

Sarah: You know, I hate to say this, I know it sounds stupid to you guys, but I feel like if John was here- he would get me out of this mess.

Chris: He sounds like a real super hero.

Sarah: He is

Bill: Was.

Sarah: Is.

Chris: Its quicker to die of thirst than it is to die of starvation, I'm gonna stop swallowing my saliva, I think it will help me die faster

Bill: Oh man, that just made me think of something... so you know how swallow all day...

Chris: Not anymore

Bill: Anyway, well you swallow spit all day right- so would you spit in a cup all day long and drink the spit at the end of the day, even if it was warmed in the microwave, isn't it fucked up to think of that?

Sarah: Yeah real fucked up.

Bill: Life is real tough, man, its real tough.

Sarah: I am gonna miss going to the dog park with Gracie and John on a Sunday morning, throwing the football for her and kissing John under the elm tree

Chris: I'm gonna miss Heather and watching Sex and the city with her- you know, I never got to do anything with her, I'm still a virgin, horrible.

Bill: Maybe, you two, Sarah and Chris, maybe for the future of humanity you two should have intercourse... and then when you are unfulfilled from his meager first time- then I'll step and bring sweet orgasm toyour last sane day in the darkness of this subway...

Sarah: pepperspray. Ok, understand, pepperspray.

Bill: Don't mind me, just another crazy old man in the dark waiting to die on a comfortable EZ chair

Chris: At least you have the EZ chair we have to sit on the concrete

Bill: Hey, who brought you here, who gave you spam and olives and who had a leaky pipe that drips rusty water for you to drink, and who has a winning lottery ticket so when we get out of here he can buy  you a cool car and some lobsters and Michelob, hehh? who?

Sarah: thanks again

Chris: Yeah thanks again. Even though...

Bill: yeah yeah... save it. (sighing) Don't worry, any second now, the Army is gonna start storming through times square with tiger tanks and M-16s and they are gonna blast all the zombies to peices and we'll be saved and i can go cash this ticket in, and you can  kiss your dog and throw your football to your firehunk and Chris over there can bust a nut over Heather and finally get to see Sex in the city season 2 and... shit! None of that is gonna happen.

Sarah: Bill, please stop yelling.

Bill: NO! I've had it! Why didn't I pull some hot loose girls into this room, why did it have to be you two! Man I could be having a party in here if I had picked the right people, ohhh what I wouldn't give for some latino girls, they are fun and smart and man they know how to make a guy feel good even in the worst of circumstances. It wouldn't matter if there was darkness, girls like that are so warm, they light up the room by just being in it with you. That's why i married one, oh my god, talk about a girl who makes a man feel like a king!


Sarah: I don't think its my responsibility as a woman to make a man feel like king...

Bill: Suit yourself, I just feel bad for your fiance.

Sarah: I went to college, I'm not some house wife who is going to bend and meet the demands of whatever my man wants just because he's my man

Bill: You ever read the bible

Sarah: No need, its all just fairytales and ghost stories.. superstition.

Bill: Figured you would say that, all college girls say something stupid like that, think they know everything, even more so than the good lord

Sarah: Don't drag religion into this

Bill: Into what, into life, into death? You got your head up your ass... and the bible says that woman are hear to serve men, if you ever read it you would know that.

Sarah: So what?

Bill: When you're busy burning down in hell I'll be in heaven eating lobsters and drinking Michelob with Uncle Manny, the minister, yeah, and the angels will sing and sweet latin girls will be sitting on our laps playing the harp or whatever


Sarah: No such thing as heaven or hell

Bill: Or ghosts?

Sarah: yeah

Bill Or zombies?

Sarah: You got it

Bill: (laughing) Hey Chris, you been quiet an aweful long time, still holding your breath, hows that working out for you buddy?
(no response) Chris? Hey, Chris?

In the darkness, Bill stands up from the Ez chair and goes to Chris, shakes him, calls his name, still no response. Suddenly, a pink light appears and the ghost of Chris comes through the wall.

Chris: Sonofabitch

Sarah: Chris?

Chris: Fucking A! I died, and went up to heaven and some asshole told me that heaven was too full, that I wouldn't be able to get in- fuck!

Bill: What's it like?

Chris: I didn't get to see much of it. There was a bright light, I went through the light and then a waiting room like the DMV. They played classic rock radio, I had to listen to AC/DC and van Halen while I read Popular mechanic, it really sucked. A woman who had just died  in a car crash of course had her newly dead newborn kid and the fucking kid would NOT stop crying... everyone was exchanging looks, like, YOU ARE DEAD THERE IS NO MORE PAIN... KNOCK IT OFF!! Nobody had the guts to say anything to her.... ewwww and then she was brest feeding, very innapropriate.

Bill: You hear any news

Chris: You guys are fucked, crtain death is closing in on the whole planet.

Sarah: dammit.

Chris: A short guy comes out and hands everybody slips of paper that say we are eligible to get into heave in a decade, unless its still so full, which I am sure it will be.

Bill: So now what.

Chris: Same thing that's gonna happen to a lot of people.

Sarah: Nothing, a whole lot of nothing. I'm gonna have to haunt this subway station from the minimum of a decade upwards to something ridiculous like infinity, eternity, whatever.

Bill: No, come on, that' bullshit... Oh boy. I guess death isn't any better than life.

Chris: wouldn't it figure... and also, I checked the lottery numbers, you didn't win. That jerkoff was just egging you on.

Bill: I am gonna kick his ass, as soon as I get to be a ghost, I'm talking major ass kicking.

Sarah begins to break down, she cries heavily.

Chris: Don't cry.

Sarah: I'm sorry

Bill: Don't be sorry

Sarah: I just wish that I could see  John one more time.

Chris: well chances are he's dead and he is a ghost somewhere in the city, which is good news...

her cries become even more so amplified

Chris: You can visit him once you are dead... speaking of which, I hope Heather is dead too, she's got something coming from me, that's for certain

Bill: I don't want to die

Chris: Too bad.

Bill: SO you say.

Jimmy and Ryan appear again. Ryan is holding a few sheets of paper, Jimmy has his flute.

Ryan: What happened buddy, you died?

Chris: Yeah, unfortunately.

Jimmy: Welcome to the club.

Bill: (to Ryan) Oh and by the way dickhead, I don't appreciate you lying to me.

Ryan: I thought it would cheer you up.

Bill: I am gonna kick our ass so hard when I exist on your plane of matter... or anti matter or whatever

Sarah: Probably the fourth dimension, an ectoplasm field of some sort, if there is any explantion other than hallucination.

Bill: Thank you Nancy Drew

Chris: Mrs. wizard... (no one gets it) Like if she was married to Mr. Wizard...

Ryan: Who is Mr. Wizard?

Chris: A TV scientist

Ryan: I was a Buddhist, I didn't have a TV...

Chris: You really missed out on life.

Jimmy: In communist China we didn't have TVs.

Chris: But you had big macs.

Jimmy: They were awesome.

Ryan: Ok, well, were bored, beyond bored, so we decided to come in here and end not only our boredom, but you're boredom... we are going to do a little bit of performance art...

Jimmy begins to play the flute and Ryan begins to read the worst poetry ever uddered. It is torturous, horribly torturous. Bill becomes angry and frantic, he goes to the door and opens it, hungry mouths clamp down on him, he screams. Sarah slams the door.

Ryan: What the fuck was that? We aren't that bad! Are we?

Sarah moves to the newly vacant comfortable chair, crying lightly.

KID A

There was a lot of acid around.

We were in the living room. The place was destroyed. It was a gradual destruction, as to seem almost un-noticed in the midst of the party and we were in the middle of it. People were coming and going in such a state of flux that it had become almost I possible to figure out who's house it was, who were the actual friends of who evers house it was. The kids I was sitting with and had been talking to very closely for the last four hours, they didn't know me. I didn't know them. They kept assuming it was my house.

"can We open up this wine?"

"sure."

"do you have anymore spoons? I can't find the silverware anymore."

“I even checked the trash.” Another one added.

“Use your hands.” I suggested.

“It’s soup.”

They must have been high out of their minds. There was no soup at this party.

"will you put on some music?" One asked me.

"yeah, I'll put something on."

There were a few CD books stuck to the carpet. I pulled the book out of the shag and tried to flip through it, the pages were badly stuck together.

"Sorry, Bob, I think some kid spilled a three liter bottle of soda on that yesterday."

"that’s where the cherry soda went?!"
   
Everybody was dying of thirst and kept getting up and drinking tap water. They would stick their heads under the kitchen sink faucet and fill their mouths up. The orange juice was long gone. There were many discussions and talks about the need for more orange juice. I had stashed a lot of beer underneath the kitchen sink, behind the RAID and the TIDE and the BLEACH and the Brillo pads. Pretty soon, one of them was gonna figure out that I had beer stashed under there and they were gonna start guzzling the RAID and the TIDE and the BLEACH, accidentally. I was really glad this wasn’t my house.
         There were many problems, we didn’t have any problems at all. See, at this time in the world, pills were very good and pills were very cheap. So, needless to say, everyone was full of MDMA and loved each other. They were so courteous, so polite. I really didn’t have to worry at all about anybody stealing my beer, but reflexively, I was still hiding it. Like a true piece of shit alcoholic. The last thing any of us needed was beer. 
   
There I was, pounding beer after beer, so completely swimming in drugs that the alcohol was useless, that my brain was laughing at the alcohol, “HA, YOU THINK YOU CAN EFFECT ME! GET FUCKING REAL! I AM IMPERVIOUS TO YOU!”
   
One of the kids, leaned on me and said, “Bill, this is seriously the best party I have ever been to. You throw a fucking wild party.”
   
“It has been.” I said.
   
“It’s not my party.”
   
“Your wife is so hot too.”
   
“I’m not married.”
   
“You are so modest.”
   
“I came here alone.”
   
“Though, I do have a confession to make, I fell over before and my head went into the mirror in the hallway. I cracked it. I don’t have any money, but I’d like to give you some more acid.”
   
“I’m good.” I said, “I’ve been up for like three days now.”
   
“I also used the last of your toilet paper.”
   
‘What we need is music.” I said. “This silence is killing me.”
   
Those things go hand in hand you know. Drugs were made for music. Music was made for drugs. 
   
“You hear the new Radiohead album. Kid A?”
   
“No.” I said. 
   
‘We gotta listen to that.”
   
“Put it on.”
   
“I would! I don’t have it here!”
   
“Where is it?”
   
“It’s at my girlfriend’s parents house in their garage. Fuck! I want to listen to it right now.”
   
“Where do they live?”
   
He told me the address. 54 Oak Drive. I wasn’t from the town. Had no idea what town it even was, didn’t know how far the address was or any other logistical points of importance. I said, “Let’s go get it.”
   
“I don’t have a car.” He said. “Plus, I’m too fucked up.”
   
Too fucked up?
   
“it would be easy to find. I recently packed up everything I own, because I’m in the process of moving into a coworkers basement... I know that the CD is somewhere in one of the first couple boxes against one of the four walls somewhere near the middle of the stacks. I think it was a brown cardboard box...”
   
“Sure. Sure.”
   
Then I went back into the living room and some kid had taken my seat. It would have been easy enough for me to just ask him to slide over or for me to just sit on the rug, but at that exact moment, it just seemed so clear to me what I had to do. Duh! I went into the kitchen. There was a hook with a set of keys on it. I took the set of keys. I walked out into the night. Inside this house it was like a boiler room. Outside it was cool and clear. I would have needed a jacket if I was part of the planet Earth, at that moment I was not.
   
I tried the red Honda in the driveway. Nope, not its keys. I tried the blue Nissan out by the mailbox. It started right up. No problem, I thought, I’ll just cruise across town real quick find this 45 Cedar Lane, or 34 Maple Street or whatever it was, go into the garage quickly find the Radiohead Cd in the neat and orderly pile of a 1000 cardboard boxes and just come back to the party before anyone misses their crap ass blue Nissan. No sweat.
   
I couldn’t sit in complete silence any longer and I suddenly REALLY wanted to hear this Radiohead album, at all costs.
   
So, off I went. ZOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
   
For awhile I noticed the car sounded like it was going to explode.Then after a few miles I realized it was just because the parking brake was on and that it was a manual transmission car. I had been driving in first gear. No matter, sometimes it is exciting to drive in a vehicle that sounds like a NASA space shuttle preparing for lift off. 
   
I navigated my way aimlessly through this darkened foreign town. I felt fine to drive. Generally, I make a point to never ever, under any circumstances drive under the influence of alcohol. It is so very sad to me to read about people who are killed by irresponsible drunk drivers. I was not drunk. Sure, I had consumed in my estimate, somewhere near ¾ of a case of beer this evening, but the pills and the acid had counter effected the booze and tucked it way way back into the background. It was a moot point. I was not drunk at all. My hallucinations had waned and now I was just seeing some tricky things when headlights and street lights or house lights, let’s just say, lights, appeared- but other than that, good to go. It was a DARK night. I was doing just fine.
   
I came to a stop sign. I was sure to come to a complete stop just in case some cop was hiding somewhere watching from one of those secret hidden cop spots. I paused there, looked both ways eight times and then counted to 25 mississippi. All clear. 
   
Quickly I surmised that I was in the marsh lands.
   
How the hell had I gotten to the marsh lands?
   
Didn’t I live in the city somewhere? I thought about it for awhile how I should have been there instead. Working on something important, where ever the hell this was. I mean, I had important work that I should have been doing, not driving aimlessly around looking for god a god damn Radiohead CD that I had never heard before. What time was it? The clock said, 11:23, but it wasn’t my car, how could I know that who ever’s car it was hadn’t set the clock wrong, or to some sentimental European time zone where their ancestors or something were from. There was a good possibility that the music store was still open and that I could just drive there, off these lazy back roads and onto the major highway, where I could really get SOMETHING done. I could just buy the CD myself, I was never going to find 75 Cherrybush Lane or 13 Blueberry HIghway, whatever the Hell that address was that the random nobody had suggested at that party. Should I even go back there? Those idiots were probably burning the place down. What the hell would it matter if I went back there. It wasn’t like I had anything to gain from a fire. It wasn’t my house. I wasn’t privy to any of the insurance money. I needed to focus on my own bank account, it was rapidly diminishing and that was really starting to bum me out and...
   
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
   
Someone was suddenly LAYING on their horn, a pair of headlights had appeared behind me. I was still sitting at that god damn stop sign, zoned out.
   
Cops?
   
FUCK!
   
I lunged forward and pulled to the side. A white pickup truck zoomed past me. 
   
“WAY TO DRIVE ASSHOLE!”
   
Some people they just feel like they own the road. Even back here on these darkened marsh roads beside the Bay. The way that guy was driving, it was sure, he was gonna get in an accident. He was gonna drive right off the road, wreck his stupid truck. 
   
I made a decision right then and there to make my way madman style out towards the highway and really lay on the gas. I didn’t have all night to waste back here feeling sorry for myself and my wasted opportunities. Sure, I was getting too old to be getting completley blitzed at a random house with people who I didn’t even know for days and days on end, but, so what. Tomorrow was a new day. I could go back home, get my shit in order. Wait, why wait until tomorrow? Fuck that? I had a car, it had half a tank of gas, that would get me part of the way home, I’d just have to figure out a ride for the other half once this thing died. It wouldn’t be that tough. This was a good time of year to hitch rides. People were driving like crazy people this time of year, they would be more than happy to pick up somebody like me on the side of the road who had a solid sense of direction. I can read a map like nobodies buisness. Just try getting lost with me as your co-pilot. Me and you could find El Dorado. We could find Atlantis. We could find...”
   
I laid on the gas, boy, you should have seen me. You would have thought I was in the Indianappolis 500. I cut the wheel sharply and burnt rubber towards where I thought was the road that led out to the highway. Something was wrong. I think there was a streetlight out or something, I won’t ever know for sure, but the next thing I know, I'm  being thrown all around the car. I’ve somehow driven this blue Nissan right into the water.
   
The water!
   
Imagine that surprise! I assure, you, you wouldn’t like it. A very jarring experience.
   
To make matters even worse, the water was kind of deep. I didn’t undertsand that part. I don’t have much experience with marshes, but it was always my understanding that marshes were very shallow and very delicate eco-systems. Well, if they are such shallow delicate eco-systems, answer me this, “How did it swallow up that blue Nissan like it was anything but shallow and anything but delicate?” That car sank quick, buddy!

SLURRRP!
   
After I told a girl this same story at another party, she hypothesized that the marsh was not really a marsh at all but rather, was a section of the actual Bay.
   
Imagine that? Me being fucked up enough to drive a car into the bay! As smart as she seemed, and as nice her body seemed, I had to distance myself from her right away, how are you ever going to get anywhere with the kind of person who thinks that you are the kind of idiot who was going to drive a blue Nissan into a bay! 
   
So, now, here I am, flailing around like a maniac in the car, trying to get out. One of two things is happening. Either the weight of the water is pressing against the doors, or the doors simply don’t open from the inside. They could potentially just open up from the outside to let you in, I wouldn’t know, it wasn’t my car. So, not thinking about it any farther, I open the sun roof and climb out through there. 
   
I get soaked. Completley soaked, getting back to the road. It’s kinda cold out and I still don’t notice. I have my mind on other things. I need to get out of the area. I need to get out of sight. I run across the road and sprint down a street, then another street, the next thing I know, I’m on a dirt road. The dirt road comes to a dead end.
   
I am forced to turn around and walk the other way.
   
Eventually, I make my way to the highway, but it takes a long time and it isn’t a very pleasent walk. I am rather distracted during the whole walk, because I keep thinking about one thing, how I was led into this disasterous misadventure by an album that I had never even heard. I mean, I’d heard other albums by Radiohead. I had never even heard Kid A.
   
I made it to the bus stop. I got on a bus, soaking wet, going completley the wrong way and to this day, Kid A is still my favorite album.