gchatus

I write short stories every day in my gchat status,
then post them here. If that doesnt do it for you,
well I don't know what.

Jesus Leon

We changed our band’s name to We Are Not Babes in Toyland and embarked on a vineyard tour. I’m sure this was widely accepted as a good idea. It was through the vineyards when the van crashed and we lost our driver, a Muppet lizard named Leon.

You’d think he wouldn’t have been a good driver, being a Muppet, and also because he crashed our van, but I would argue both were patently true. The two or three muppeteers managing his upper body would cram into the space under the wheel and have cameras on him so they could see how their movements played, and maybe it could be argued that at least one camera should have been trained on the road, or one of them should have been sitting up and watching the road, or just driving because what was this Muppet thing anyway are you trying to be cute.

Look it up, I’m not cute, Leon was a Muppet lizard on the Jim Henson Hour in 1989 and if you have that specific visual this story works. Anyway we didn’t crash because he was a Muppet, we crashed because it was a vineyard tour and he was drunk on wine. The muppeteers tried to keep him off the sauce but it was like he had nothing else, no agency. It was like he was felt and plastic with bones in the form of hands crawling inside his ass.

As we pulled him from the wreckage we promised we’d love him forever and never forget him. We changed our band name to Jesus Lizard and wrote a lot more songs. Someday someone told us this would be a problem but we don’t care! We Are Punk Rock!

The van broke down again outside Detroit, which is what they called Pittsburgh in those days. We all gave up and got jobs, made families, died poor. 

The Mouthbreathers

There were two mouthbreathers at the end of the yoga line. They did “yoga before yoga,” flipping around on their heads and falling over like well-muscled pelicans before the instructor even arrived. During the class they breathed heavily, trying every advanced pose the instructor suggested, falling overthemselves with loud grunts. One of them had a European accent and they both had funny hair. She wondered if the instructor purposely suggested impossible advanced poses just to watch them fall over. That’s what she would have done.

Merry Christmas

I can rarely remember what happens each year on the Fourth of July. I remember I knew someone who hated the holiday, who insisted terrible things always happened. I have narrowed it down to two people in my life who this might be attributed to, but no farther. I remember walking through a suburban town toward fireworks, looking for open street corners, finally finding one and watching the show. This is the last Fourth of July I remember. My girlfriend and I turned to each other the other night and realized we couldn’t even remember what happened to us last year. I’m sitting at a table next to two full bottles of lighter fluid. In San Diego there are fireworks every night at 10pm from SeaWorld, so the Fourth ain’t no thing. We’re America as shit. Let’s just say it won’t be ho hum this year, let’s just ask if you’ve ever upended two bottles of lighter fluid on a neighbor’s dog that doesn’t know the meaning of late night quiet hours. 

Gum

"I wish I brought my gum" she said loudly to no one in the waiting room. In response, a fly buzzed into one of the fans and the blade hiccuped, then kept spinning. A woman reading a magazine looked over the top of it, then glowered at her, then looked away again. An overweight man slept into his chest a few seats away. When a shark drifted past the window, no one looked up.

Working On My ER Spec Scripts and Bow Howdy Think I’m Ready for the Big Time

"Oh doctor!" she said, upon being thrown into the maintenance closet. "I cannot for the life imagine how safe it is to get troubled on the day shift!"

"Ain’t no birds troubling you," said the doctor, unzipping his forward thrust. "This whole hospital’s naught but maintenance closets, so’s the likes of you and me can do the middling crimes."

And it was true. On this floor alone forty-seven closets waited, all unassembled, for the rigor to be affected during lunch breaks on the day shift. Somewhere someone said this was a hospital, but it were not lest you know of a hospital ain’t got no beds. I came here for a bed once and only found me here, in a closet, shackled close with many womens and the mens doing terrible, fraught and frenzy tethered, finding these exaltations of the middling crimes.

I’m Working on My Thinly Veiled Metaphors via Genre Fiction and Also, Still Writing Medical Dramas

I’m not gonna say the head scientist wasn’t a skeeze, and I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth. I’m just saying it was weird, him drooling all over that bioroid.

Like he’s always weird. One time I heard him following Shirley out to the parking lot. You know Shirley, she’s that cute toaster they got working the front desk down on 2. Yeah, so she’s motoring along to the tram, just minding her own what have you, and she hears this squeek-squeek-squeeking as she’s going under the hospital. You know, where it echoes?

And she turns around and he’s just breathing and wheeling along after her, in that, in that creepy, you know, chair? I’m sorry, this isn’t funny — but it’s kind of funny, right? I’m sorry. So he’s just — right? He’s just wheeling along and I guess he was coming up to tell her she’d left her locker open in the changing room, and he wanted to let her know. But — RIGHT! How would he know? What’s he doing, he’s sneaking in on toasters now? I know, I shouldn’t call them toasters, oh my god. But she is, she’s a toaster! She calls herself that all the time! I wouldn’t — I think she is the cutest thing!

But that old man is a freak, I’m telling you. If I ever have to get this arm lopped out and replaced — oh, it’s coming! It’s not morbid — it’s the truth! And I’m telling you, when that day comes, that old guy better be dead. If they try to stick me with him — NOPE! NOPE! I’ll tell them, I’ll tell them what happened to Shirley. I’ll tell them what happened to Marjorie on 1.

Oh my god, you don’t know? She woke up from surgery, swear to God, she might have been on drugs — I love Marjorie, but she might have been on drugs, but even if she’s not. EVEN IF SHE’S NOT, okay, this is weird, who would fantasize this? I don’t know, maybe Marjorie is crazy. She could be, she could be!

So allright allright! Let me finish the story! Marjorie wakes up after that last bit of work she got on her stomach — I know, she looks good right? Anyway, she wakes up and he is. Licking. The. Biofeed.

I KNOWWWW. I KNOWWWW. And she wakes up and she clears her eyes and she looks at him and she says, “Uhhh, what are you doing?” and he says, I swear to god, he says, “Checking your temperature. It’s the only way to know for sure.”

THAT MAN IS THE DEVIL. HE’S COMPLETELY THE DEVIL. I don’t know how Marjorie even kept working there. God yeah, the toaster benefits. Probably. Jesus, what a world.

Everything Was Fine

He woke and she was standing in the doorway,covered in soot. “I’m a bum,” she said, and grinned, and he could smell her. She had coins in her eyes. He told her not to worry; he would give her one thousand dollars to help her get started. “You planned this,” she said. “I thought about it already,” he said. “You planned this,” she said, and threw him down the steps. He woke up. She was fine. Everything was fine.

How To Kick It

They flew from Istanbul to Darfans, and from Darfans into Llama Country, and from Llama Country into Hilo. I don’t care what you knew about Hilo, that’s not what it’s like now. It’s like someone barfed a Disney Star Wars ride across an island, which is exactly what happened, minus the barf and replace that with infrastructure. The warrant officer and the ingenue decided to kick it in Hawaii for awhile. Ain’t no road mutants in Hawaii.

Naked Lunch: Complete

In which I have read and provided a synopsis for every chapter of William Seward Burroughs’  The Naked Lunch.

ATROPHIED PREFACE 

As the title says, this functions more as an in-voice preface for the book as a whole. Burroughs speaks to the reader directly as a writer and author of Naked Lunch, talking about his approach to the work, and the idea that it can be entered at any page (hence a preface that appears as the second-to-last chapter.) This is still one of the most fractured and stream-of-consciousness sections, setting up the Cut-Up Trilogy to follow.

QUICK… 

A continuation of the preface, throwing in a good deal of catchphrases that will be used in the Cut-Up Trilogy…

END.

Or start again here.

Hauser and O’Brien

The setting snaps back to present-day New York. Lee is found in his apartment by two police officers (Hauser and O’Brien) who want to take him in. Lee manages to blind one of them, kill the other, shoot up, and escape. Then he goes across town looking for drugs. After finding some, he decides to call the local precinct, but no one there has heard of Hauser and O’Brien. Lee has an epiphany that is somehow off the grid of reality, and free to do as he pleases.