© copyright 1996-2009 by Michael
tossed about the vending.
Accomplished, she bends at the knees. An interview was aired earlier,
the only detail revealed was that the weather would change on the hour
every hour for the next week. When, in fact, it would behave in this
fashion for nearly a month. With the greater majority holed up, she
knew the time had finally arrived.
Standing on the corner,
four-way light, she waits for the cars to pass. 10:27pm on a Thursday,
the final vehicle approaches slowly before stopping in perfect view.
She quickly lifts her top, revealing her sagging breasts, the driver
notices nothing, transfixed on the bumper of the car ahead of him. Her
nipples become erect.
In a third floor apartment, a young man
has just gotten out of the shower. With a towel around his waste,
through the window his gaze happens upon the sight of a middle-aged
woman flashing a car. Emotionless, he stands still until she walk on
out of view.
Perplexed, his head gently tilts as his eyes
squint, he closes the blinds and turns on the television. Talking heads
dispense hollowed propaganda. The state of the union yet to be
addressed. Upon a clothes hamper he hovers, naked with towel in hand,
wipes his ass before placing the wet white cotton into the hamper. At
the end of the hallway, briefly he loses himself in the shadowed path
As he decides what façade to portray for the next
day, the woman from the corner continues to walk along the street until
an alley present itself on the other side. Barron, she surveys before
entering. She stops just before the dead-end of a dirty brick wall,
pulls down her trousers below her knees and slides down the side to the
Surrounded by shards of glass, loose soiled paper and
tin, her fatty pale flesh rests. With knees bended and pants now around
her ankles, again she her top exposing her hardened nipples. She
remains motionless in this position with her head down and her shoulder
length hair a manageable mess. Ravaged. Awaiting a judgment. For a pair
of eye to bear witness to her guilt.
Five, ten, fifteen minutes
pass when finally she is found. A fifty-eight year old drunk business
man pauses at the alley entrance. He stands there peering at the
exposed woman. First concerned, wondering if she was even alive, before
turning to pity when it becomes clear that this bare breasted woman is
shivering. He leaves her there to wallow in her shame, after one last
look at her tits. The way the moon framed them, as the wind licked. She
heard the soles of his shoes shuffle as clip-clop away like a horse.
bar was loud, packed like sardines. Quiet desperation filled the air as
suits with loosened ties bounced off one another spilling their drinks.
Five dollar drinks, five to ten percent lost each trip, money to burn.
Bobby originally had planned to retire at fifty-five. While in college,
it was wishful thinking by fifty. Now sixty isn’t an even an option.
Instead of closer, the thought of retirement drifts further and further
At the opposite corner of the parking lot where Bobby’s
car resides, a fleet of school buses await another Friday morning. The
way they sit there in the dark, devoid of life, on odd sight. A
reminder of a childhood wasted. Unattainable expectations or misleading
early over-achievement? Upon reaching his car, Bobby notices a man in
his early 30’s with a beard and glasses wearing a dark jacket surfing
the driver’s side window a couple of cars away from his with a long
thin strip of metal.
As the lock pops, the bearded man raises
his head to acknowledge Bobby before sliding into the driver’s seat.
‘You should really get with the times. Nobody listens to cassettes
anymore,” the thief thinks to himself as he fumbles around adjusting
Hunkering in, flipping through cd’s left on the
passenger seat, “Shit, shit shit,” nothing but rap with the occasional
suburban hallmark included for the less taboo chaser. The bearded thief
pops a cdr from inside his jacket pocket. Karlheinz Stockhausen
“Hellicoptor String Quartet” blasts from the speaker as the cars kicks
up and drives out of the parking lot.
The glasses and beard peel
away after he drivers a few blocks. They are placed in the large side
pocket of his jacket. He reaches a small garage behind an old white
house. The brights are flashed three times consecutively in pattern
prompting the door to be raised by someone inside. A short fat man
who’s shirt clings tightly to his belly stands in the garage as the car
“The hell ya listen’ to, damn!” the cdr is popped out
and the connection is cut. A car rolls into the driveway, “Next time.”
After entering the passenger side, the car reverses out into the street
and slowly drives off. “Let’s grab a bite before home, man, I’m
starved,” the two stop at a burger joint drive-thru. After placing the
last order of the nigh and receiving a free soda because of it, before
the car exits, the restaurant lights are shut off./
the agenda tonight?” says a co-worker. “Shower then bed.” Samantha
tidies up around the register as the males sweep and mop. “See
ya…whenever I see ya again!” is head as she shambles to her old rusted
Honda with one hubcap missing. The key is forced into the side door
hole, corrosion, the key barely fits anymore. The feeling of striking
gold just as doubt had begun to set in. “There it is…we have entry,”
The tv’s still on in the living room with
Samantha’s dad asleep in the lazy boy still clutching the remote. Fried
food permeates every pore of her body, the stench exists like a cloud,
as if being followed by ghosts of burger joint’s past.
brown shirt, dark brown pants, white socks, pink bra revealing small
breasts and dark blue panties. As the shower begins to steam up the
bathroom, she sits nude on the toilet and relieves small very compact
spheres of fecal matter.
The first rush of cold air after exiting
the long hot shower is like a new born from the womb. Sitting on the
bed in a flowered cotton night gown, hair still damp, the glow of a
television flickers. The Midnight Matinee is interrupted by a live
“We’re here all night folks! It’s a 24 hour!
Clearance! Sale! Everything! Must! Goooooo! We have 2, 3, 4 cushion
loooooove seats! We’ve got recliners too! We even have kitchen and
dining room sets! We got it all! So, don’t be shy! Come on down! Be the
10th customer and ask for John Boy, you get 10% off your purchase!
Hurry on down now, ya here!”
A methodically crazed middle-aged
man in a polo shirt raves. The red light at the top of the camera
fades, though he remains nervously still in front of it with an odd
smile plastered across his face for another five seconds until it
becomes abundantly clear that it’s a wrap.
“God…DAMN! It’s hot
as a witches fuckin’ TITTY in here! Is it hot or WHAT!” Speaking to no
one in particular, John rattles off to the bathroom in the office
between the showroom and warehouse in the back.
the lid of the toilet, he uses the paper found rolled up on the side of
the stall to wipe the sweat from his brow. His heart skips once before
rapidly firing off five beats, only to return to it’s normal rhythm.
The pager clipped to his belt vibrates against his side.
“We’re already at 8 with a 9th primed. Figure you might as well be
“Damn…thing really works, huh.”
deaf couple in their thirties enter the store. Slowly shuffling their
feet, they quietly take in each others subtle head movement and
expressions before moving onward. Eventually they find themselves
hovering over a dark muted mauve couch with jagged lines embedded into
the fabric. It was awe inspiring. The woman didn’t deliberate, she
moved deftly toward the nearest salesman to lay the details down.
Before she could make an attempt, she was interrupted by the red-faced
perspiring methodically crazed bowling ball bellied owner with a camera
light blinding her.
“Congratulations! You’re our 10th customer!
And as the 10th, all purchases tonight will be 10% off! Right here!
Right now! At John Boy’s Living Room and Kitchen. Located just across
the street from Glendale Mall, next to Rally’s!”
initial shock, the couple were pleased. John Boy, on the other hand,
was not as he had forgotten an important line in his announcement.
the female restrained the male with under-the-table sign language
wrap-arounds and nudges, two ex-juvenile delinquents loaded the couch
onto their truck. A cherry red sports car nearly runs one of the movers
down, the mover turns to stiffen his middle finger only to retract it
after catching a glimpse of the drivers powder caked face.
a distance, the woman looked at least ten years younger than she was.
She exists from her car, she’s older and older with each step she
takes. By the time she’s standing before the pudgy mover, she’s
materialized as a thirty-four year old with two divorces and three kids
under her belt.
The deaf couple enters their truck after the
couch had been tired down. The mover slams the truck door in back as
the heavily treated woman begins to assault the ears of the other one
with a rapid fire collage of Spanish and broken English. Small bones
arms flailing about can be seen in the rear view mirror of the couples
truck. Who said there were no perks to being deaf, they think to