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brendohare · 10 years ago

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The Diary Of Jerry L.

January 23rd, 2:45 PM

Hello diary! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jerry L. (I will not be revealing what the “L” stands for, out of privacy), and I am a 55-year-old man from Peoria, Illinois. I am a big fan of the hometown minor league baseball team (go Chiefs!) and I go to Lutheran church every Sunday. I work at an accounting firm (Daniels, L., and Gregson) downtown as a senior partner, and I am very proud of what I have accomplished in the working world.

Now, you might be asking, hey, why aren’t you at work, today is a Friday! Well, you’ve got a lot of questions for an inanimate object! I’m only kidding, of course. Today was a holiday (Death of Johnny Carson, whom the partners and I all loved), so that’s why I am home.

I also have one wife named Marcia, an adult son named Jerry Jr., and a cat named Mars! Despite the name, Mars ISN’T a red cat — the planet, Mars, just happened to be in the sky the night we bought her. Pretty neat!

Oh! I suppose I should mention why I started this diary: I currently have my hand stuck in the garbage disposal that’s in my kitchen sink. I dropped my wedding ring down there while I was washing dishes, and now my right hand is stuck. I’m afraid to move it out of fear that it’ll get chewed up, and unfortunately, I am not near a phone or any sort of device that could alert someone. All I have is a legal pad I keep close to me at all times, in case I get an idea about accounting. Around the house it is known as “Jerry’s Idea Pad.”

I have decided to write in the pad and turn it into a diary, so that one day my family and I can have a good laugh about the situation I’m in. Maybe I will even head down to the Kinkos and get it binded, to make it look all professional!

So far I have been stuck for about fifteen minutes. Marcia is at work all day, and won’t be home until 6. Jerry Jr. lives a half-hour away with his girlfriend, who is very nice. I am supposed to visit him tomorrow, and I am very excited!

Well, I am going to sign off for now, but I definitely plan on updating this while I am stuck here -- which will hopefully not be for much longer, ha ha!

January 23rd, 3:00 PM

Still stuck in the garbage disposal. Mars walked into the kitchen about 5 minutes ago. I tried to pet her with my foot, but she flinched and scurried away. Must not be used to feet. I sure wish she were!

January 23rd, 3:20 PM

A bird just stopped by the window and stared at me, as if to say, Jerry L., what are you doing with your hand in the garbage disposal? Well, little bird, I was trying to be a good husband.

January 23rd, 3:50 PM

Accounting Idea: Work extra hours, in order to get more work done...recently began working on Saturdays. Maybe Sundays too? After Lutheran Church, of course.

January 23rd, 4:11 PM

Hand hurts!

January 23rd, 4:48 PM

Marcia should be home in about an hour. I’ve started to get lightheaded, which I assume is because of the loss of blood. Now, I haven’t seen any blood, because my hand is in the garbage disposal and I can’t get it out. But I have felt the blood trickle down my hand. It’s never a lot at once, but it has been consistent.

The most blood I've ever seen was at a Chiefs game, when a ball hit the first baseman in the face. It was a routine groundball to short, and when the shortstop threw the ball, the first baseman just missed it. Hit him right in the face. The Chiefs lost many games that year. Anyway, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be bleeding, but what are you gonna do? I don’t regret trying to save my wedding ring one bit!

January 23rd, 5:55 PM

Well, I hope this has been fun to read. Not a whole lot has happened, so maybe I won’t be getting this binded. But still, it was nice to keep my mind off the pain! My wife will be home in a few minutes, and she will call the proper authorities. I think it will be the fire department, but maybe the police will need to be involved as well. Oh, and the ambulance too, of course. I’ve never been in an ambulance — excited to see what that’s like!

January 23rd, 6:07 PM

Seems like Marcia is running a few minutes late.

January 23rd, 6:25 PM

I wonder where Marcia is?

January 23rd, 6:50 PM

Still no Marcia.

January 23rd, 7:11 PM

I hope Marcia gets here soon! Just had to pee in the sink on my own trapped hand. Hope Marcia understands, and that I would never pee in the sink if my hand were not trapped.

January 23rd, 9:45 PM

If any of my neighbors ever read this, I would like to apologize for my recent outburst. I was frustrated about my wife’s absence and my current predicament, so I screamed “Damn it!” out the window. I think the loss of blood is screwing with my brain.

January 23rd, 9:47 PM

The one good thing about being stuck in a garbage disposal is that I now have all this time to think of accounting ideas. For example, I just had a great one. I think accountants should all work out so that they’ll be stronger and, therefore, type harder.

January 23rd, 11:05 PM

Well, I’m just going to have to go to bed here. The blood seems to have stopped pouring out of my hand, which is good! Now it just dribbles out. No sign of Marcia, and I haven’t heard any voicemails from the next room. She’s probably just working late – she’s done that a couple times the past few weeks. Just bad timing, I guess. But what a day! I am supposed to visit Jerry Jr. tomorrow, and I really hope I can make it. I love my son! Good night, diary!

January 24th, 3:14 AM

Woke up ,screaming in pain

January 24th, 8:15 AM

All things considered, I have had worse nights of sleep! Haven’t had anything to eat in 18 hours, so I woke up with hunger pains. Also hand pains. There is a bottle of multivitamins near me that I have been trying to avoid eating, because it’s not really food and I hate the taste of them with all my heart. Oh well. I am getting desperate. Time to suck it up, eat two, and stay heart healthy!

January 24th, 11:33 AM

Marcia doesn’t usually work Saturdays, so I’m wondering what the delay is. Sometimes when she spends the night at the office, she will forget to call. But she is almost always back here before 9, with a plate of hot eggs ready for me! I miss hot eggs, and my wife. She better get home soon, because Jerry Jr. will be waiting for us! I am keeping myself distracted by remembering sermons from my Lutheran pastor, but that only works for so long. Hope the pastor doesn’t read this, ha ha, but he might!

January 24th, 12:05 PM

Hand numb for past 15 minutes, irregular, also a little blind

January 24th, 12:15 PM

Eyesight back. Good.

January 24th, 1:10 PM

Rats! Just realized I’ll be missing work today. Another bad thing is that I’m the only one who goes into work on Saturdays, so I doubt anyone will be calling the home phone and asking where I am. Guess I’ll have to try and get some work done from my new office, the countertop right next to the kitchen sink! Maybe it’s good I won’t be going in. I’m still lightheaded, AND a little loopy at times.

Best to keep that in house...literally!

January 24th, 1:45 PM

Accounting Idea: Do we need two C's in that word? Maybe

January 24th, 3:30 PM

Getting closer. Only an hour and a half until Jerry Jr. Time...come on Marcia...

January 24th, 4:55 PM

I am supposed to be at Jerry Jr.’s house in five minutes but my hand is stuck in a garbage disposal.

January 24th, 5:05 PM

I’m so sorry son. I blew it. Marcia you also blew it.

January 24th, 6:15 PM

Jerry Jr. if you read this I am so sorry and I will make it up to you.

January 24th, 7:00 PM

Just got a very angry voicemail from Jerry Jr. He thinks I skipped dinner to go to a Chiefs game. Well, the Chiefs aren’t even playing this time of year! Although to be fair, it wouldn’t have been the first time. I love those Chiefs. Anyway, I am sorry son. I screwed up.

He also said Marcia was at the dinner. That’s odd because she was supposed to come home and rescue me. Did she go there and just go right back to her office? Jerry Jr. sounded very upset, as if I had done something very, very wrong. “You really screwed up this time, dad,” is what he said.

January 24th, 7:04 PM

Accounting idea: Have the latest technologies at work

January 24th, 7:58 PM

Sad.

January 24th, 8:12 PM

I bet Jerry Jr. and his girlfriend made a nice dinner, too. I’m so hungry. Could really go for a Big Footlong Hot Dog from Dozer Park (where the Chiefs play) right about now! Hell, I could even eat two of them, for a total of two hot dog feet.

January 24th, 9:13 PM

Oh n

January 24th, 9:14 PM

I’m so sorry

January 24th, 9:15 PM

Had to defecate on the floor. Couldn’t keep it in my body any longer, and I couldn’t do it into the sink because that is where my hand is. I am not proud. Mars came over for the first time today after I did it. She must have heard my screams of shame. She stared at it for a while and then left. I wish she had stayed and I wish I hadn’t had to do that to the floor. Marcia works very hard to keep that floor clean. Although, this wouldn’t have happened if Marcia was here, so maybe some of the blame is on you, Marcia!! Where are you!!!

January 24th, 11:05 PM

I am going to sleep with my hand in the garbage disposal for the second day in a row. Marcia, I’m mad at you. I hope you’re having fun at work, and not at home rescuing your husband.

January 25th, 1:02 AM

acounting idea: marcia says sorry hahaHA

January 25th, 3:07 AM

Marcia Im sure you have good reason, hand still numb

January 25th, 4:02 AM

Help please help me please God if you can read this please help call cops or marcia, jerry jr. h

January 25th, 7:55 AM

Good morning, diary! My hand is still stuck in the garbage disposal, and Marcia still has not returned home.Again, I have had worse nights of sleep. I woke up once or twice, and from the looks of it, I journaled a few times! Neat. It’s crazy how your body can do things and you won’t even remember doing them! I wish I didn’t have to remember the pain of getting my hand stuck in the garbage disposal.

January 25th, 9:00 AM

Ate 2 more multivitamins for breakfast. Yesterday I ate 2 of these for each meal. It wasn’t great, but are you gonna do? My cat walked by and she looked hungry. I don’t think she’s been fed for almost three days now, unless there’s someone else in the house I don’t know about. If there’s someone else here, show yourself! Ha ha. I tried to give her one of my multivitamins but she ignored it and walked away. I truly hope she can find food on her own.

January 25th, 11:17 AM

Hand now numb for almost 24 hours, oh

January 25th, 11:45 PM

Hey Marcia if you love work so much, why don’t you marry it, instead of me, your husband who currently has his hand trapped in a garbage disposal!

January 25th, 12:14 PM

Accounting idea: Deliver high quality service

January 25th, 1:11 PM

Well, I knew this would happen sooner or later: I got frustrated and threw a fit. My hand is now more stuck than before. I am trying to stay positive. I missed Lutheran Church this morning, and I think it would have helped me feel better.

January 25th, 3:32 PM

i will die here i only have 8 multivitamins left and i won’t eat cat!!!!! Although

January 25th, 3:38 PM

No I won’t eat cat

January 25th, 5:50 PM

Drinking tap water is getting old. Marcia can kiss my ass. Leaving me to die. Some wife!

January 25th, 7:17 PM

January 25th, 7:18 PM

Bad news

January 25th, 7:19 PM

I have some bad news. While flailing my legs around to try to regain feeling, I stumbled upon a piece of paper on the floor. I must have knocked it off the counter when I was initially trying to escape via flailing. The paper was from my wife, Marcia. She wrote that she’s leaving me, and that “certainly you saw this coming.”

As someone who currently has their hand stuck in the garbage disposal because they were looking for their marital ring, and as someone who did not realize this was coming, I must say, this is really bad news.

January 25th, 7:21 PM

The paper is dated January 23rd, so she must have left early in the morning when I was asleep. Also I guess I ignored the paper for a few hours afterward. But why would Marcia leave me? Is it because I regularly put work over family? Is it because I regularly put Lutheran church over family? Is it because I regularly put Chiefs minor league baseball over family? Probably

January 25th, 7:23 PM

Damn it.

January 25th, 7:24 PM

I wish I had gotten to see her last night at Jerry Jr.’s. Wait NO

January 25th, 7:25 PM

Oh no OH NO. Jerry Jr. He knew. He KNEW. My precious son was going to try to get us in the same room to talk and maybe make things right and that’s why he was so upset. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it damn it.

January 25th, 8:11 PM

I got upset so I ate all the multivitamins at once and then I threw up all over myself. I will die in my kitchen sink.

January 25th, 9:10 PM

I DESERVE to die in my FUCKING SINK, sorry for cursing NOT fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck EVERYTHING, ESPECIALLY me

January 25th, 9:45 PM

Sink Death = good name for band, good name for something I DESERVE

January 25th, 10:32 PM

My wife Marcia left me and now I am going to die in a kitchen sink which I deserve

January 25th, 10:48 PM

SINK DEATH SINK DEATH SINK DEATH SINK DEATH SINK DEATH

January 25th, 11:01 PM

Accounting Idea: Who cares I’m going to die in a kitchen sink alone

January 25th, 11:15 PM

Someone help me I deserve a second chance I deserve a chance to make things right although maybe I am out of chances because I missed the dinner where JJ tricked us and put us in the same room to try to talk things out but I need to find out from beautiful wife Marcia I will get better I will change I will stop caring about ChiefsChurchWork just for you oh please honest I will. Going to scream out my window until someone hear me FUCK THE NOISE ORDINANCE, FUCK RESPECT FOR MY NEIGHBORS I NEED TO LIVE AND I NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION AND maybe cat needs medical attention. Sorry

January 25th, 11:37 PM

I see the police lights outside! I see the police light outside! I will scream so they find me! I will scream louder than I ever have before!

January 25th, 11:44 PM

Bye  

****  

January 27th, 1:30 PM

 I have a lot to talk about! Anesthetic

January 27th, 7:35 PM

Okay, so here’s what has happened the past two days: the police were actually responding to an incident that was occurring across the street from me, and I eventually passed out from screaming so much. I didn’t wake up until early this morning, thanks to my son, Jerry Jr. He was coming over to confront me about missing the big dinner, but then he saw my hand trapped in a garbage disposal and instead called 911. It was nice of him to do that. I passed out the moment the paramedics started trying to remove my hand.

I woke up in a hospital, which is where I am currently writing this. They have repaired my horrific hand. I didn’t get to see it, but the doctors said it looked like I had a bunch of man-handled slices of turkey attached to my arm. I wish they didn’t put it that way.

Marcia came to visit me earlier. She thought it was really sweet how I was willing to jam my hand into a sink to save my wedding ring. She also said I have a lot of things I need to work on, and that for the most part, I’m not that great a person. I can see where she’s coming from. For example, I have almost certainly emotionally neglected her for many years because of my three hobbies.

I have decided to throw away my Chiefs season tickets, and I am going to tell off my Lutheran pastor when I’m out of the hospital. I am still going to go to work 6 days a week, because I need money to live. But I will no longer think of accounting ideas while Marcia is talking, and instead listen to her. She’s skeptical, sure, and is going to live at her sister’s house for a while. But she said she still wants to see me now and then. Maybe there’s a chance she’ll move back in, if I can show real improvement. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I’m a human. Speaking of dogs, the cat is fine, I bet.

I have learned a lot from almost dying. It's changed me a lot as a person. Maybe the threat of divorce has changed me more than the disposal thing, but who knows. Either way, I’m going to type this all up and, I don’t know, I guess post it online. Hopefully people will learn from it, and not make fun of me for getting trapped in a kitchen sink. But if that does happen, please know this: It will make me very upset, but not as upset as all that just happened made me, because that made me extremely upset.

Yours,

Jerry L.

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brendohare · 10 years ago

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Here is the rant against Pringles that everyone is talking about...is it real? is it fake? who knows

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brendohare · 10 years ago

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one of my favorite quotes by neil degrasse tyson

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brendohare · 10 years ago

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don’t talk down to me

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brendohare · 10 years ago

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My Grandfather’s Tuxedo

The tuxedo I wore to my high school prom was too big, and I looked like a kid wearing his dad’s clothes. But looks can be deceiving, because the tuxedo was actually my grandfather’s. He had died a couple of months earlier, and my grandmother thought that wearing his giant tuxedo would be a good way to honor him. I really had no choice — I would have become the family outcast had I screamed what I wanted to, which was something along the lines of “No! I do not want to wear grandfather’s massive tuxedo! I am afraid it will cause my nice date to shout ‘What is the meaning of this!’”

Before I go any further, I feel like I should mention one thing: if you are thinking that my grandfather was a large man, you are extremely wrong. He was actually about the same size as me, if not an inch or two shorter. He just wore a huge tuxedo because he loved the way it felt. He would always wear the big tuxedo to family gatherings, and would regularly pull me and my siblings aside to say “You should buy an enormous tuxedo. You will love the way the enormous tuxedo feels.” It was almost as if he was a pitchman for the enormous tuxedo industry, but to my knowledge, he was not. He just wanted us to be happy, and to him, being happy meant feeling good. And feeling good involved wearing a tuxedo tailored for a man two feet larger and two hundred pounds heavier than he was. So that was nice of him, I guess, even though when I tried it on for the first time I immediately hated the feel of the big tux. But I was stuck with it.

When I told my date that I would be wearing my grandfather’s tuxedo in his honor, she thought it was very sweet. Not wanting to spoil the nice moment, I decided that I would whisper the size revelation. This is because whispering is the sweetest tone of voice. Unfortunately she did not hear me, and was very surprised when I showed up to her house wearing what she called “the worst case scenario outfit.” To my terror, she also shouted “What is the meaning of this!”

I think she overreacted, because it could have looked a lot worse. It could have been a tiny suit, for one. But my date did not realize this, and worst of all, her parents were even more upset than she was. They were so upset that they refused to let me plant the corsage on her.

“You can take our daughter to prom, and you can be her date, and you can dance the fast dance with her and you can dance the slow dance with her, but, as God is our witness, you will not plant the corsage on her dress as long as you are wearing the big horrible suit,” they said. Eventually they calmed down and fed us a large dinner, but the corsage ban still stood. I had always dreamed of planting the traditional corsage on my date, and to not have her parents permission felt terrible. But I respect parents, even if they are not my own, so I did not attempt a sneak plant. We left and luckily things started to look up, when on the way over to prom my date became used to the mighty tuxedo by convincing herself that she was having a nightmare. Taken at face value this sounds bad, but when you’re grasping for straws, any straw is good, even if it’s a bad straw.

By the time we arrived at prom, I was feeling great. Even though I was horribly uncomfortable in my enormous tuxedo, I still thought we could have a good time. That is until I stepped out of the car, and heard the chaperone at the front door shout “Oh no!” — the phrase every prom-goer dreads having shouted at them. The unwanted attention didn’t stop there. When my date and I went inside, you’d have thought Boy Celebrity and Girl Celebrity had entered, the way everyone was looking at us. I felt like the President, especially when a fellow classmate shouted “Hey look, he’s wearing Grover Cleveland’s suit!”

“Why didn’t you say William Howard Taft?” asked the second classmate to the first.

“I wanted to stand out,” said the first classmate, after a long pause.

Dancing in the monster suit was a nightmare. My feet were where the suit wanted knees to be, so I was constantly getting caught up and falling down. Luckily I could break my fall by using the excess fabric of the arms. This made me thankful for the big suit, until I remembered that the big suit was causing me to fall in the first place. I could tell my date was getting frustrated with my constant falls, so I decided to roll up my sleeves and legs to make me more aerodynamic, or something. I even got a couple of my friends to help me out. But by the time we had taped everything up, she was gone.

Then she came back from the buffet, and was excited that I had taped everything up. Unfortunately, as soon as I started to dance all the tape flew apart, and everyone had to evacuate because it sounded like a bomb had gone off. When I told the door chaperone that it was just my tape violently coming off of my gigantic tuxedo, she was furious, and said I could not come back inside, calling me “The Prom’s Menace.”

I told my date that she go could back inside if she wanted, and she did. I couldn’t blame her. It’s very likely that not waking up from the loud suit explosion made her realize she wasn’t having a nightmare. So I sat on the front prom step, praying that no family members would walk by as I cursed my grandfather and his gargantuan tuxedo. Sometimes it would begin to rain, which felt like a weak attempt by my grandfather in Heaven or Hell to make me stop. I would shout “You’ll have to do better than that, grandfather!” and continued cursing him and his mammoth suit.

I stopped, though, when what appeared to be his spirit materialized in front of me. At first I was not sure it was him, because he was wearing a normal sized suit. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, as it seemed likely that big suits didn’t exist in Heaven or even Hell. But after a while I realized it wasn’t him, and became aware that I had been in such a blind rage I was confusing my friend Jerald with my grandfather. Even if it was just Jerald, what he said still made an impact on me.

“Go back inside,” he had said. “Make a big speech where you tell everyone that it is not about what someone wears on the outside, but about what someone wears inside, in their heart and brain.” I knew what I had to do, and it was to repeat word for word what Jerald had said, and maybe add a word or two of my own to make it original.

So I told the door chaperone to buzz off and tried to walk back in. She screamed at me to stay outside, and I listened. Jerald had to come back out and give his whole spiel again. Then I went inside once more, this time not listening to the door chaperone’s screams as I stormed the center of the dance floor. No one was dancing at the moment, as a giant fan had been brought in to help everyone cool down, and prepare for more good dancing. I thought that this was the perfect time for me to speak. I violently cleared my throat, and began my nice speech. Unfortunately no one could hear me over the enormous fan. “Big Tuxedo Boy Stopped By Big Fan,” a newspaper headline might say, if they were feeling funny. Even worse, the wind had caused the excess fabric of the suit to create a surface area ideal for allowing the fast fan wind to lift me up in the air, towards a ceiling fan that, although not moving particularly fast, could have done some serious damage if it had been.

No one noticed my ascent, as everyone was too busy enjoying the wind. Fortunately for me, the door chaperone had followed me inside, probably to apologize. I saw her point at me and shout “Oh no!” the same way she had earlier, when she was openly disliking my arrival. Everyone turned around and looked in horror, initially because of how the wind was making my suit seem even larger. Then they realized how close I was to the ceiling fan, and, misinterpreting just how dangerous the fan was, thought they needed to save me. No matter what someone is wearing, prom just isn’t the same if someone dies at it.

They stopped the floor fan and I fell into a makeshift trampoline similar to the ones firemen use sometimes, when they are saving heroes. It was the jacket of someone else who was also wearing an enormous suit but not making a big deal out of it. I thanked everyone for saving my life, and then continued giving the speech from before. It seemed unnecessary at this point, but I did not want to make Jerald feel bad. By then everyone had lost interest, and I finished my speech to my classmates who were not listening, but who very nicely still clapped at the end. Then I left.

“You did a good thing today, son,” said my dad when I arrived home. “If you didn’t wear the suit, you would have become the family outcast, replacing me, the man who accidentally destroyed the ice sculpture of your aunt at her birthday party. They still won’t talk to me, you know. None of them will. I put up a billboard by where your aunt lives that says “I Did Not Mean To Destroy The Ice Birthday Aunt” and they still don’t care. Good night.” I politely nodded and went upstairs.

As I laid in bed, I began to realize something. Although I hated wearing the torturous suit with all my heart, it did give me a lot of attention, which, positive or not, made me feel good. Maybe this is not what my grandfather had in mind — maybe his idea of feeling good had more to do with what he incorrectly believed to be the suit’s comfort. But oh well. Jerald was right. It is not about what you wear on the outside, it’s about what you wear on the inside. And what I wear on the inside is a love of being given attention for what I wear on the outside. So from that day forward I promised myself that I would never wear the disaster tuxedo again, and would instead wear horribly gaudy clothes that actually fit me. The clothes I wear now make people say "Whoa!" and I like that. Wherever my grandfather is, Heaven or Hell, I think he would be happy with this.

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brendohare · 10 years ago

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Here is my audition to be in the band Radio Head -- I am performing my original song “I Want To Be In Radio Head”

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brendohare · 11 years ago

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I am your new online workout trainer, and I am going to help you get stronger and faster. Today's lesson teaches you how to do the "Bench Press" exercise .

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brendohare · 11 years ago

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Tetherball

My family moved around a lot when I was a kid. Dad was in the Army, sure. But I think it had more to do with how he would constantly lose tetherball matches to the neighborhood kids. You see, as soon as we’d move in to a new house, the first thing dad’d do would be to take out our tetherball pole and put it in the front yard. He treated the pole the way a fisherman treats bait, if bait attracted small fish that had a 100% success rate of coming onto your boat and, I dunno, growing human arms and beating the hell out of you in a game of tetherball, I guess. But when the human children weren’t immediately biting, he’d go out to the yard and wait. If it took longer than five minutes for someone to walk up to the pole, he’d be out there. I’m not sure why he did this. Maybe it was because for the few brief moments he was out there by himself, he knew he looked like the baddest man alive. The first time you looked at him you’d have thought, my God, now there’s a man who not only could beat children in tetherball, but probably adults too. He’d go and stand out there with his army haircut, his army clothes, and his army scowl. He would usually forget to help us unpack, he’d be so intense. My brother and the series of wives dad had understood, though. The man was six feet four inches tall, 225 pounds, and had arms and legs big and strong enough that you could affix a truck tire to them. One time we did, and we rode him around our yard and called him Truck Dad. Any time a kid passed on a bike, dad’d shout “HEY! KID! You. Me. Tetherball. Now. In my front lawn where the tetherball pole is, the one I’m standing next to. Or are you a chicken or some other sort of farm bird, like a, um, ah shit, I dunno, duck?” Oh, how he’d terrify that poor kid. The kid would always be smaller than dad, because dad was a full-grown adult, and the kid was a child. The kid would slowly walk to the pole, terrified of what would happen if he turned down my dad. But of course, that kid would eventually demolish him. Though sometimes old dad would have an advantage in the first couple moments of the game, just based off the intimidation factor. But once that kid realized that dad was all bark and had no teeth and bad gums and a weak tongue, it was over. The kid would start slapping the hell out of the ball, and dad would just crumble. Sometimes he’d actually fall to the ground and the victorious child would stand on top of him as if he was something that would traditionally be stood on after being conquered, like maybe a mountain. This usually only happened when there were adults around, as some of the crueler adults would tell their kids to treat my dad this way. Eventually they’d get bored or sad and leave, and then word would then quickly spread around town about the new army dad who sucks at tetherball and for some reason is challenging people to it. The army got wind of this and didn’t love how much he lost, but he was such a great general they couldn’t really do anything. Also they realized a lifetime of losing to children in tetherball was probably punishment enough. We’d move once dad had enough of losing. Sometimes we’d pack up and move right after he initially lost. Other times the old man would stick it out for a few days, even weeks. The longest we ever stayed in one spot was six months. Although, this was more of a technicality — we would have done what we normally did (moving to the next town over in order to stay in the same state as the base dad was stationed at), but this time around the army said “You’ve run out of towns.” So dad stayed in the town and got beaten, day after day. Around day four the neighborhood kids started feeling bad for him, and they didn’t want to play anymore. But dad would intimidate them, or at least, that’s what he thought he was doing — what he started doing was actually closer to begging. This would make the kids feel even worse, and they’d end up playing. They didn’t feel bad enough to let him win, of course, but it was sure nice to see them care about my old man like that. Did all this moving around affect me? Maybe. Did seeing my dad get slaughtered time after time in tetherball by kids who were my age or even younger affect me more? Oh, absolutely. For example, one way it’s affected me is that I also do what he did, except I’m a better general and the kids who kick my ass in tetherball are younger. I can’t say for sure why dad did the things he did, specifically the tetherball one. Sure seemed like masochism at times. I do remember once him telling me “I am trying to make sure everyone in our new neighborhood knows I am not to be messed with except it never works and I’m starting to think that even if I did win it wouldn’t look good because I beat a small child.” Dad died a few years ago. In his will he demanded to be buried with the tetherball pole. We tried to jam it in the grave but it wouldn’t fit. Eventually it was decided to put the pole on top of the grave, which is what I think he would have wanted, even if his will said something else. Sometimes I’ll visit the grave, and I’ll have to shoo away some kids who were using the pole so I can pray in silence. But once I’m done, I tell those kids to return, and I challenge them, and I lose miserably. Just the way dad would have done, all those years ago.

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brendohare · 11 years ago

Text

Bagel

I honked my horn at the car in front of me and the guy inside that car hopped out and beat the shit out of me. I tried to reason with him but I guess beggars can’t be choosers. After he was done he got back in his pretty nice car and drove away. The light was red but that didn’t seem to matter. I waited for the light to change, and drove across the intersection into the strip mall parking lot. I parked my car and walked into the bagel store in hopes of ordering breakfast. The chimes on the doorway rang as I walked in. I got in line and soon I was up. “Hey, I saw that guy assault you, man,” the cashier said. “Are you okay?” I felt my head and realized I was bleeding from above my eye and my nose felt crooked. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can I get a blueberry bagel with cream cheese?” “Toasted?” “Nah.” I went and sat down at an empty table. Most people in the store stared at me. They looked away whenever I looked at them, except for one person. She was wearing a blue dress and had short blonde hair. She motioned for me to come sit at her table so I walked over and sat down across from her. She stared at me for a couple of moments. “Do you want to beat that guy up?” she said. “Huh?” “I said do you want to beat that guy up?” “The cashier?” “No, the guy who beat you up.” “You saw?” “Yeah, everyone in here did. It was like, a weird uniting of strangers, seeing you get the shit kicked out of you like that.” “Oh.” “So would you want to beat that guy up if he came in here?” “I dunno. I mean, I guess.” “He’s my brother.” “Oh. Is he…all there…in his brain?” “Thought so. Never seen him act that way. Whadja do to him?” “Honk at him.” “Why?” “Thought he stopped short at the light.” She didn’t respond. The cashier motioned to me that my bagel was ready and I walked to the counter and grabbed it. When I sat back down she was gone. I felt my nose and it was still crooked. “Hey, do you guys have any ice?” “Don’t yell across my store.” I got back in line and soon I was up. “Do you have any ice?” “Yeah.” A couple of moments passed and it seemed as if the cashier forgot what was happening and was already thinking about something else. “Well, can I have some?” He went into the back and brought me some ice he threw in a paper bag. I took it and sat back down and continued eating my bagel. The bagel tasted like it had been made hours earlier but that was okay. I had just finished eating when the woman and her brother who had beaten the shit out of me walked back in. “Well. Here he is. Have at him.” “What?” “You can beat him up. He’s realized his mistake and wants to make things right.” “Oh. Uh, is that true?” The brother looked at the ground in shame and it looked like he might tip over and if he did happen to tip over he had the look of someone who might try to bury himself in the ground headfirst like an ostrich. “Yes.” “Well, I mean, I don’t know. You said he’s never done anything like that before?” “Nah, I remembered that he’s beaten up a few people who’ve honked at him in the past. Figured I should teach him a lesson before this whole thing slips my mind. You gonna do it or not?” “Uh, excuse me.” I got back in line and soon I was up. “Um, hey, is it okay if I beat that guy up?” “What?” “That guy, he’s the one who you saw beat me up before I came in here. He said I can beat him up, to make things even.” “You can’t do that in my store.” “Why not? The cashier stared at me as if I had two heads or at least one really shitty head. I walked over to the woman and her brother and punched the brother in the face. He didn’t react and the woman gave me a look of “Really, after all that?” The cashier told me to leave. The chimes in the doorway rang as I left the store and hopped into my car. When I opened my car door I realized my punching hand was bleeding. I started the car and backed up right into a telephone pole.

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