Dawn Breaks

Dennis looked around the kitchen aimlessly – an unnerving quiet had settled into the morning.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” said Marie.
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Because why?”
“Why “because”?”
“Because!”
“Because why?”
“Because it’s over.”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Because why?”
“People are starting to talk, that’s why.”
“What people?”

Marie looked around the kitchen aimlessly – the psychedelics had started to kick in.

“Yolanda, Phyllis, Bitsy, Myrtle, Gladys, Hope, Yvette—“
“Okay! Fine, I get it.”
“Bess, Lucille, Taylor, Midge, Hope, Mildred, Eunice, A…..a………”

Marie stared off. The corners of the room suddenly had acquired what seemed like a radical change in depth.

Please.

Hello. My name is Kevin. Me llamo Kevin. I would like to star in your musical. I would like to be given the lead role in your musical production. Many years ago I was struck by a UPS truck and spent months in a sanitarium on the outskirts of Alberta. After the accident I found I had gained a newfound ability to sing gaily in front of New York’s elite. Doctors couldn’t explain it. I began a tour across the country, which drew sell-out crowds. Offers poured in. I found myself with untold riches at my disposal. Corporations, eager to have me as their spokesperson, paid for my homes and automobiles. Then, suddenly, just as I was peaking, I was struck by a DHL van outside of Athens. And just as this ability to sing so beautifully had appeared in such a freak manner, it instantly disappeared in precisely the same way. Which brings me to Guatemala and your little theatre. You see, I am desperate for work. I would like to star in your musical. I am extremely talented. My name is Kevin.

RSVP Soon!

National Slap-A-Stand-Up-Comedian Day is sponsored by KB Toys and Zildjian, makers of the finest cymbals. Tickets for this weekend’s event are nonrefundable. This year’s inaugural speaker: Carl Yastrzemski.

Dare Not Speak His Name

Jeff is angry. When Jeff angry, he do bad things to bad men. He staple tibia to lunchpail. He eviscerate gopher in front of gopher family. He demolish untold amount of Toyota Selica. He beat person with own leg, then vomit in thermos, then dip leg in thermos, then make person eat leg. He replace bone marrow with toothpaste. He grill intestine of storeowner. He make damaging mockumentary on shady arms deal. He thrust one pound of brine shrimp into rectum of enemy. He shellac his porch with blood of city councilmen. He keelhaul sailboat full of Montessori school children. He emblazon van with airbrushed tableau of Jeff eating hide of neighbor family. He smack old lady with shotput. He shave with cheese grater. He coerce you into paying to have Jeff remove ones lungs from chest cavity. He play aimlessly on balalaika until it drive you mad, I tell you, mad!

A New Manner of Speaking

I’m developing an effective new manner of speaking whereupon I only respond to other humans if they engage me in a manner that admits my obvious, yet vast, personal talent. There’s no time for other follies. Some call it passive-aggression, although that sounds negative. It’s self-preservation. Partners have called it “moodiness”, but they’ve just been couching its true meaning.

For instance, over the past few months a number of family members, co-workers and friends have, almost inexplicably, approached me casually and said “Hi”. But that shit is painfully dated. My mind is reeling with pertinent and timely ideas that must remain unencumbered by unannounced friendliness. No longer will I suffer through how’s-it-goings and how-was-your-weekends – from now on, I will greet these harmless niceties with a vacant stare. However, if such dialogue includes a reference to my daring, unconventional interests and projects – then, and only then, will I potentially utter a dismissive sentence.