The Melodic Sound of One Guy Screwing Himself
-J. Benjamin Rose

John Denton used to say Eddie Roy Robertson's voice sounded like gold that his vocal chords were "warm platinum threads" and that he sounded like a, "really well informed Bing Crosby" (no one really understood that last part and neither do I). Denton was employed by WTQR (channel 3) and after three illustrious years was the sole producer for their nightly news broadcast. Because Eddie and John had worked together twenty five years John was destroyed by Eddie's on air heart attack and subsequent death. And let's face it, when the talent vomits a small handful then ceases to, well, breathe while millions are watching your career doesn't exactly skyrocket.
On Christmas eve 1993 only three people occupied the WTQR studio located on the corner of Edgemont Ave. and Tunnel Rd. John Denton had decided everyone should go home to spend the holiday with their families so he, Eddie Roy Robertson and Sherman Lopez were broadcasting the last ten minutes of the show on their own. Having reached his particular level of celebrity, Mr. Robertson should have been at home. Alas, John Denton was a slave to continuity.
Eddie had just finished giving seventy counties worth of children a Santawatch update when he felt a sharp pain shooting down his left arm.
He turned a pale yellow and slid, almost gracefully, from his corinthian leather aluminum reinforced chair to the tan carpeted floor. John froze, just stood there, mouth agape, and, after thirty five long seconds, Sherman switched off his camera and ran to perform CPR on Eddie's rotund and very still body. The three were alone only a moment before two men from rival WTVD news team arrived, camera equipment and a small asian woman applying lip gloss in tow. It was just John's luck they had been doing a story right outside regarding WTQR's gaudy new sign and how it blocked driver's view. John Denton had discovered this hazard almost immediately after its installation yet uttered not a word.
John was horrified. Not only was he forced to watch the death of his friend, he knew the story would be picked up nationally and not by his parent station. Soon, millions of people would be watching Lillian Lu, not Anne Anderson give play-by-play commentary as Sherman audibly cracked Eddie's sternum and lamely attempted to find Eddie's pulse. It would be WTVD's recent Korean addition occasionally poking Eddie's lifeless body with her microphone and not Denton's veteran WASP of questionable sexuality.
John Denton felt as pathetic as Sherman Lopez's ability to perform CPR. John actually knew CPR, had renewed his certification not ten days before but simply could not move. Eddie should have been at home, Denton knew that. Eddie had pills in his vest pocket, Denton knew that also. Denton also knew every mistake the well meaning cameraman was making. Alas, he made not a peep.
Many workless years later, John Denton would confide in his occupational therapist. He would admit, as he stood silent he could see his career floating away with the soul of Eddie Roy Elbert, who nibbled on a piece of cheese as he disappeared into the ceiling panels. His eyes seeming to say,
"What the f@@k, man?"

Shooks "Kindred.Spirit" Inspired - 13 years, 2 months, 22 days ago

Tract Housing National Forest (part III)

(Pearlie knocks once and enters the back door into the kitchen)
"Y'know, ifya move those honey buns from the back of your head to the sides you'd have a sah-weet Princess Leia thing goin' on."

"Eff you."

"EFF you? Wait. Is...that...Miami Sound Machine I hear?"

"Yeah, that's Marshall's kickboxing music."

"Well, certainly makes me wanna kick something. He still on that Chuck Norris diet?"

"Yeah! He's lost like twelve pounds, says he won't be happy till he gets down to like two fifty. Says that's the appropriate weight for his height."

"What, five ten?"

"Uh-huh."

Hey, he still workin' on that book?"

"Collateral Seduction."

"Yeesh."

"Yeeaaah."

"How many...."

"Three..."

"Oh..."

"hundred..."

"...mah..."
"Chapters"

" ...gah!"

"He says it's like Saving Private Ryan meets Good Morning Vietnam meets Miss Saigon."

"Meets Fat Albert" (she says it with a french accent)

"Heh-heh, thing reads like a fucking TV guide."

"He let you read it?"

"No, hell naw but, I is sneakay."

"Yes, yes you is. Hey, speaking of sneakay, he notice yet we diluted the whiskey with tea?"

"No, and he won't. He only drinks it when he's already wine cooler drunk."

"Odd man that Marshall is."

"Yep, driven by want of character or, at least, persona."

"You told yer moms about (she rabbits her fingers) the... "bump?"

"No! And, I'm telling you, it was that stupid swiss army knife of his you felt."

"Well, a-stabbin' was a-comin'."

"Eww, gross!"

"Annski, you heard of Mayhem?"

(Annie pulls her blue hoodie over head and says mockingly) "Norweigan Black metal, scary."

"They have a song called, "Chainsaw gutsfuck."

"That is disgusting. They're a lil creepy...but mostly just silly."

(Annie holds up the catalog she's been thumbing through) "So's this."

"What is that?"

"A set of portable stairs for arthritic pets."

"Okay, nobel prize anyone?"

(A loud thud comes from the room above them, the girls faces draw blank, and they are momentarily silent)
"You don't think..."
"I dunno."
(They both go running up the stairs, Annie stops before the door, blocking Pearlie from entering. Miami sound Machine still blasting from the room)
"What are you doing? We have to..."
"You dont understand."
(Pearlie, again leans toward the door)
"No!"
"What!?"
"Umm, Marshall...works out..."
"Yes, we've established that."
"naked."
(Pearlie stifles a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. Annie turns, yells through the door)
"MARSHALL!"
(nothing)
"MARSHAL, YOU FAT FUCK!"
(Annie slowly reaches for the door and Pearlie crosses behind her, meeting at the jam. Both place their hand on the knob. Annie speaks quietly)
"Ok, one..."
"two..."
"three" (they push the door open and stick their heads in. Marshall is lying face down on the floor, motionless. Both girl's jaws slowly drop before they see him begin to flex his butt cheeks repeatedly. They close the door silently and run down the stairs laughing all the way)
"Oh my god!"
"Oh my god! You have the strangest step-dad in all the universe!"
(Their faces are red from laughter)
"It becomes more clear by the day why my mom would be a-steppin' out on him."
(Pearlie loses the expression from her face)
"Are you serious?"
"Oh yeah (the disappointment is evident) I think it's that gross tanning salon guy."
"What!? Mitch Mitch the catcher's mitt?"
"Yeah, you've seen her. She goes there twice a week and the woman's tan as the bottom of my foot."
"That why your Dad..."
"No, I think that was him."
(The kitchen door springs open, Annies mom enters, laughing into her cell phone. When she sees the girls she says solemnly into the phone)
"Ok, well, I'll call you later."
"Hi mom."
"Hey Mizzzz Lynn, How goes it?"
"Hello girls, how are you two?"
(Lynn is swallowing her smiles, her cheeks pink)
"Mom? Are you... drunk?"
(She rolls her eyes in return of the question and turns to open the fridge. The girls exchange suspicious looks. Lynn pushes her hip to the side holding the door open; she pulls her hair up, wraps it into a ponytail. After grabbing a a diet coke she leaves the room)
"Uhhh, Annie?"
"Yah?"
"Did you see that?"
"No, what? What did I not see?"
"Nothing, you didn't not see anything."
"No! What? What is it?"
"Your mom, she.."
"WHAT!?"
"She...had... lipstick on the back of her neck."
(Annie, picking at the butcher's block before her, says quietly)
"no, you didn't see that, that's, um, a birthmark."
"Ann.."
"A birthmark, ok?...okay?"

Shooks "Kindred.Spirit" Inspired - 13 years, 2 months, 27 days ago

Tract Housing National Forest 2

Walt sits, pushing his index finger into his chin, trying to create a dimple but succeeding only in irritating the skin. He pulls his damp, blue towel over his shoulders and crosses his thirteen year old bare feet. Swim class ended an hour ago so he counts the pine needles gathering in the corner of the pool. Finally, he hears the sound of gravel and tires followed by the horn of Mandy's Volvo, "Walt Jr. c'mon, don't keep me waiting all day!" He walks gingerly through the parking lot and climbs into the passenger seat, "Walt, where's your sandals!?"
"I dunno Ma, someone stole them."
"Again!?"
Softly he responds, "Yeah."
"What!? I can't hear you. Why do you keep losing sandals?"
"I didn't lose them, someone stole them!"
"Don't yell at me! I didn't take your sandals and I'm not buying you another pair."
"Fine, I don't want another pair. What's this?" He holds up a rectangular, yellow piece of paper.
"The receipt from the fix it guy."
"Why does it say, 'Had a great time'?"
"I dunno Walt you'd have to ask the fix it guy. Y'know, I think Lynn is having an affair."
"Why?"
"Well, we'd have to ask her but Marshall isn't very attractive and she's much smarter than him."
"Did she tell you she is?"
"Yes, well, no but I can tell these things. I'm surprised you can't Walt, you're very intelligent for your age you know, everyone says so. Why don't we cut your hair tomorrow? I hate that length on you."
"I thought you liked it long."
"I though I did too but I was wrong. It makes you look foolish."
"God, that's mean."
"No it's not, it's just how I feel; you want me to lie?"
"No, I don't want you to lie, I just want you to say it nicer."
"Walt, really, you need thicker skin."



Shooks "Kindred.Spirit" Inspired - 13 years, 2 months, 29 days ago

Tract Housing National Forest

" How does this happen? We find ourselves one day having an affair, addicted to drugs, crying on our floors desperately picking through our herpes. We are lost in our own lives, trapped beneath the rubble of our bad decisions. We've had parents or friends who, with all their love, could not free us from our own stupidity. So, we sit, sit and wait, sit and wait for that hero banging on the other side of our mirrors, in the pictures of us as children. Forgotten is our identity, our divinity, crying out to God but deafened by our own screams." Mandy pushes her hair back, leans against the counter, searches for a reaction. ANY reaction will do today.

"I'm sorry? D-did you say something? I mean, was there a question in there?"

"Well, yes, yes for god's sake. I'm asking how do we end up in these spaces? How did I end up here or you there for that matter?"

"You mean how did you end up with a broken washer and how did I end up fixing it?"

"No. W-well yes I j-"

"You read all those books in there?" he motions toward the living room.

"I-"

"Where'd you go to school?" he asks.

"College? Um, well, Cornell... and State but I had to stop going because my father fell ill and-"

"He die on you? That must've been tough. What was that like?"

"Well, I wasn't really there, then, not then. You see I had a friend who invited me to Toronto for eight-eight-eighteen months and I-"

"Uh-huh?"

"D-don't you, don't look at me-judge me like you know what I've gone through. You're just a repairman and you start talking to me like you know me!? You don't know me! You don't know where I've been, what I've gone through. How dare you!"

"OK, ok"

"Wait, what are you doin!? Where are you going? You can't just leave! I need my washer fixed! I'm not paying you!"

"No, you're not, because there's nothing wrong here, not with your appliances at least. And I would appreciate it if you called someone else from now on.There's nothing wrong with your fridge or your phone or you stove or your washer. There's nothing wrong with any piece of furniture for that matter. Just call someone else because I can't fix what you have broke."

"No. Don't leave. PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO- HERE, here, wait, here try this"

He sighs "What?"

"Here, try this, try my cake."

"What? O...k"

"Well? Don't look at me like it's poisoned, just try it, try my cake."

"It's...it's good, it's good."

"It doesn't taste like cardboard?"

"No, no it doesn't taste like cardboard."

"Yes it does, it's horrible, it has no taste, nothing has its taste anymore."

"No, it's good, really it's good I-"

"You wanna fuck?"

"um..fuck?" he repeats the word, it is cumbersome and trickles from his lips.

"You wanna fuck? What? Am I not pretty? You don't find me pretty?"

"No, I do, its just...I'm fixing the thing and you're angry and I'm ju-"

"You're married? Gay, you're gay?"

"No, no I'm not gay or married-"

"Kiss me"

"I-"

"Kiss me."

"O.k."


Shooks "Kindred.Spirit" Inspired - 13 years, 3 months, 2 days ago

I'm gonna start a website called pleasesomeonelookatme.com

In six months you are all invited to party on my ocean liner ;)
Shooks "Kindred.Spirit" Inspired - 13 years, 3 months, 4 days ago