with a gun

her husband killed himself.

he held the shotgun between his feet and pulled the trigger with a string. or it might have been a pistol. he held it in his mouth and got off three shots before he dropped. and there was a tooth stuck in the door across the other side of the room. that's what people say. he did it with a gun. or he sat in the car in the garage with a hose connected to the exhaust pipe. she was there. or she was working late that night. or they'd had a fight and she'd gone out for a drive. but not in the same car that he did it in. unless he did it with a gun.

and now here she is. laughing and working and why isn't she sad. she is sad. she cries. she hates her son because he reminds her. his face. her son moved to alaska. to escape. or he's off at college fucking sluts. he's off the rails. drugs. or he's coping okay. he's getting married in the fall. to a nice girl. he's closer than ever with his mum. they go to the movies on tuesday nights because it's half price on tuesdays.

he did it because they were having money trouble. she cheated on him or he cheated on her and he was ashamed. he beat her. he had a history of depression. they were so good together. always happy and they used to kiss sometimes right there in the street. they were still in love. why him though? he was the strong one. always there. and funny and he smiled and never would you suspect. he'd talked about it before. joked or he was serious. he asked her for help. she didn't help him. they went to see someone together. he went to see someone. he was taking something. he was getting better. he didn't drink. no drugs. not even prescriptions. he was a gambler.

his insurance policy covered it. she's all set now. or it didn't. she's moving back in with her dad. he has a drinking problem. or a broken hip. he's moving in with her so she can help care for him. she got fired from her job. embezzlement. or she kept crying in the meetings. she quit.

she uses her job as an escape. she's a workaholic. a promotion and now she is somebody. how long has it been? she's already seeing someone else. fucking him. they were together before. now it's in the open. they're just friends. he's helping her get through it. they talk and drink coffee. like friends.

the boy found him. there was no note. or she found him. there was a note. one word. sorry. or it said i tried. i love you. or it was rambling and he hated her.

they are selling the house. can't get the blood out. she has kept his things exactly as they were. it's creepy. she's moved on. painted the house and planted daisies. she sits on the porch and waves. she smiles. or she's angry. hateful. she can't understand why.

her husband killed himself.

never clone a clown

there was one clown. now there's two. i know. i have a little explaining to do. it started, well it started back in 7th grade. science class. we never did get to shank any frogs but one time fatso randazzo distributed pigs eyes to me and all my classmates. from a big sloppy bucket. and scalpels. and we were shown how to remove the cornea. step-by-step. we were not shown how to bash and mash the eyeballs with our textbooks. eyeballs are rock hard by the way. they do not squash. they do shoot out sideways from under your smashing instrument. anyway, that's when i decided to become a scientist. or roundabout then. i put a pig's cornea in my eye like a contact lens. it hurt pretty bad and i couldn't see anything. but it felt good. emotionally.

so a few years on i was at the university trying to invent time travel and robots and i couldn't quite figure it out and i should also mention that there was this girl. this girl was actually a woman. a woman of profound intelligence and she wore a lab coat and i wanted to squeeze her in the squeezy bits. i talked to her. this girl, this woman, and she talked to me and she told me that she wanted me to take my pants off, which i misconstrued for love.

have you ever noticed that girls in the lab always smell nice. it might be on account of how everything else in the lab smells like scorched nostrils or it could be that girls in the lab don't want to be the one girl in the lab who doesn't not smell like the boys in the lab. she smelled like licorice. black licorice and i wanted to taste her in the face. the reason i mention all this is because i spent a lot of time with her. this girl, this woman her name was doreen. that's another thing. girls with ugly names. i don't know what. maybe it's just the contrast between how awful their names are and how not awful everything else about them is.

anyway she was a cloner. tomatoes and ants and not dogs. the dogs are another story but actually the dogs are what ended her. and us in a way. there was a scandal and she moved and she left me standing there by myself. in the lab. cloning. just me and the science and okay there were a few other girls who smelled nice like i said but they didn't talk to me much. or they talked too much. you know how it is when you don't not like people but you also don't want to chat about things or tell them there is something in their teeth.

other people were cloning. in russia they cloned a polar bear. there was pressure. from the university and also there was a pharmaceutical company that gave me a grant and they said hey we are not paying you to eat girls in the face (i told them about doreen. i shouldn't have, i mean why would i, but i couldn't not). so i had to go big.

and just at that same time, a time when i was not good, things started to look up. my advisor heard about a lady who went to bali and came back with a mound of moving spider babies embedded in her cheeks. it wasn't true. an urban myth i suppose. but the guy who told my advisor about the lady with spiders in the face, he himself turned out to be a promising candidate. he was a clown. one of those clowns that you can hire for kids' parties and he wasn't good at it because he had this horn and it was way too loud and really irritating and all he did was blow the horn and say something and then blow it again.

anyway, the clown guy had twin girls and i guess both girls were dying from kidney disease and he was a match and so he gave each girl a kidney and they turned out to be just fine except for the fact that they had a clown for a dad and also their dad didn't have any kidneys anymore.

so the plan was to clone the clown and then, well i figured he would die anyway because what else can happen when you don't have any kidneys. but the plan was to clone him and make a little clown baby with the same dna and then it would maybe be a way for the twin girls to feel okay about killing their dad because they could raise their new dad as their son. or one of them could at least.

anyway it all worked out perfectly. we even injected the clown baby into one of the clown;s daughters and she grew him all up inside of her.

but this other girl in my lab, who admittedly did smell nice, i'm not lying about this phenomena, she snuck around behind my back and really put me in a tough position. for two reasons. firstly, it turns out you are not supposed to clone actual people. so there was that and i had to go to court and everything. but worse, she went and cloned one of the clown's kidneys from inside his daughter (the other one) and then gave the new one back to the clown. don't worry if you don't follow. cloning is a lot like time travel with all the paradoxes and everything it is nearly impossible to figure it all out.

so now the clown is all honking his stupid horn all over the place, healthy as a clown with one good kidney, and that damn lab girl is getting all the press. then of course the clown's daughter doesn't want the new clown because why would she when her dad is a-okay and also she liked to play tennis and kind of wanted to turn pro and thought a baby might be a bit of a hassle in that regard. so actually maybe a kid would be good for me in my life so i called the child protection agency and said oh hey and then i hung up on them because i realized that kid is going to turn out to be a clown just like his old man and i don't even really like clowns.

so now i have a lab in my garage. unaffiliated. unfunded. trying pretty hard to figure out time travel again. and robots.

connecticut

i'll sniff the petals

and stem the tide

then ride the wave

and say goodbye

she had an idea

she had a job. and a boss. and an idea to tell her boss. at her job. it was a good one. the idea. and the job. and she was excited to tell her boss. she was nervous though. about sharing the idea with her boss. not because it wasn't good. because it was. the idea that she had. but to tell her boss. about the idea. was a little bit awkward. she had never told her boss anything. at her job. never asked a question. or raised a point. but now she had something to say. at her job. to her boss. and it was about this idea that she had. she would tell her boss. at her job. about the idea. first thing in the morning. or if her boss was busy then maybe after lunch. she liked her job. and her boss. and was proud of her idea. so she would tell her boss. as soon as she could muster up the courage.

short story

his story was too short. this is not a metaphor. this is not about a man who died too young. this is literally about a story that was too short. it was intriguing and intelligent. and funny of course. as far as it went. but it was over before it began. or since i am being literal, it ended before it was over. and the man who wrote the story, he had a beard.

back in

i came back in. it was dark, mostly, but an eery light eminated from the russian torture sluts who sat spread eagled and ugly faced inside my laptop screen. The light shone directly on her eddie vedder poster. eddie was jesus to her if you can imagine jesus letting a girl in a serious relationship blow him back stage after the concert. i didn't care for him that much and that was kind of a problem, especially that one time i chanted "ed vedder the bed wetter" over and over again all up in her face. i can be annoying sometimes.

it was my fault she left, actually. that night she came home all excited about some big "eddie" solo show that she had scored front row tickets to. to which she had. or whatever. she was beaming and creaming and clearly wanted to "do it" to me right there on the living room floor. but instead of letting her do it to me i busted her chops about how much money she spent on pearl jam paraphanalia and whatnot and i accused her of wanting to do it to eddie vedder harder than she wanted to do it to me. she asked me why i always had to rain on her parade and then she left. just like that.

so i didn't call her and she didn't call me. i wanted to and i wanted her to but i guess she didn't or she did but she didn't for whatever reason. it's never logical when you look back on it. i tried to replace her with various internet sluts. and i grew a beard. but i was sad and my face was itchy and i wanted her back. and her front ha ha.

it's not just the sex i miss. the sex was good although i'm pretty sure her hardest cums were eddie inspired and that bothers me to some degree but not completely because oh see i'm getting hard right now just thinking of her in that moment. her face and her sounds. but we were more, too. just watching tv or riding our bikes because we still rode bikes sometimes on the weekend up to the farmer's market where we bought bread and jam. i rode too fast just to be an ass but i'll stop doing that i swear.

and today i'm going to catch the bus out to that antique store she likes so much and buy her some pearls. like her mother's ones that she is always saying she will inherit one day. then i'm going to call her and see if i can get back in.

Orlando Innamorato (“Orlando in Love”)

will smith

oh, summer been laden with fruit flies. and autumn, she promises no relief. it's the winter freeze that will end their reign, yet the maggots will hatch again come spring.

to kill a moth

i used a piece of toilet paper to squash the moth because i didn't want to get his death dust on my hands. i wrapped him up in a ball and tossed his cottenelle covered carcass into the toilet. but i couldn't bring myself to flush. what a waste of water that would be. when you flush a toilet it uses 18 million gallons of water and i didn't want to waste 18 million gallons of water on a dead moth. i couldn't just leave him in there either because nobody wants to discover a wad of mystery paper in the bowl before they drop or dribble. so reluctantly i urinated on him myself. it wasn't an enjoyable experience but it wasn't as horrible as the moth gods would have you believe. my urine stream was strong on account of all that water i had taken on board earlier in the day and it pounded the already wet moth-filled paper into submersion. i could have aimed for the side of the bowl but piss to paper makes a muffled thud sound that is difficult to resist. when i was done i went ahead and flushed the pee soaked moth into the city's sewerage system. i'm unclear on where his final resting place might be.

spuds mckenzie

she likes me
or no, wait
she talked to me
and i wouldn't talk to a girl if i didn't like her
so she likes me
or maybe she just likes my spuds mckenzie t-shirt
because the first thing she said was
"hey, i like your spuds mckenzie t-shirt"
but to me that means hey, i like you and i'm expressing it by saying hey, i like your spuds mckenzie t-shirt
so i'm pretty sure she likes me
and worst case scenario she likes my spuds mckenzie t-shirt
and isn't repulsed by me to the point where she doesn't want to come up and say something
even if it is just hey, i like your spuds mckenzie t-shirt
we'll find out soon enough i suppose
because she's going to be at HJ's tomorrow
and i'm going to wear a different shirt

soup

waiter
wait here
i have something
to say
hold on
something is dripping down my face
oh, it's soup
it must be that soup that you just dumped in my hair when you tripped over that thing on the ground, by the way what is that, something that baby dropped i bet
stupid babies
anyway
i guess what i wanted to say was
there's a soup in my hair

bob's your uncle

today is d-day
bob saget's t-shirt is on e-bay
and some asshole is trying to out-bid me
i like bob saget
(i really like bob saget)
and i'm going to buy that t-shirt
it's a real one that he wore under his suit on the set of full house
it's authenticated
and it's going to be mine
5 minutes 'till
who is this bitch
can't she see it's got stains in the pits
(not that i mind)
he's signed it and the money is going to some kind of charity
for kids with broken something or whatever
but i don't care i'm buying this one to wear
and not just to bed
i'll be sporting my bob on saturday night
at home, at work, at book club, too
with my jeans or dress and fancy shoes
the auction's almost done
oh shit i think i've won
but
oh you stupid fuck
upped me by a buck
i'm done with these rotten cunts
(as soon as i get those slacks of allan funt's)

my dad

my dad left me when i was eight
a postcard from toronto
from that time he took my sister kate
and a picture of him with a sunburned chest
hair all messed
from the wind
arm around my mum in her bathers
i guess it was taken by the neighbours
standing proudly the man with his woman in front of the house
an antique adding machine
a t-shirt with a bootleg mickey mouse
and an unopened package of moondust exploding candy
from the USA
a long leather coat
in the inside pocket there's a note telling me that things will be okay
they're not, of course
or they are in a way
i've forgotten what he looked like now, to some degree
like me i guess on account of how all those folks tell me so
so there's that too i suppose
all these things
and the things that aren't things
my knack for a joke
that isn't funny
the art of wanting but not making any money
the music that i cannot play
putting shit off for another day
that was him and that is me
all part of what
my dad left me when i was eight

101 things i want to do before i die in words and pictures (i'm not dying)

(in progress. updates to be made at the rate of one new thing every now and again (or every "so often")

1. punch somebody in the face (not you)

2. not punch somebody in the face (you)

cups and spoons

we used to do the crossword
together
or sometimes i'd do sudoku
and she'd just drink and dream
me in my t-shirt
her in her jeans
and we'd chat of course about things
or other things
or people who we knew or wanted to
then one morning it was gone
still sitting and sipping
and talking
but the way was another way or not our way and not the same
like it used to be
her and me
now she despised me and the things i did or had done
or the way i was or who i am
and i was annoyed at every little thing
i hated her neck 
yet
here we were
early
finishing up like the days of old
before her breath began to mold
i rose to go 
not ready to go
but the time had come and gone again
and then i felt her hand
and
she leaned in for a kiss
i obliged and spent the moment
thinking about all the little things that i might miss 
but not this
the morning sun had given in to rain
as she turned back
to clear away the cups and spoons

still

again
or still i guess
wearing that dress
with the pockets
and your hands
fidgeting
like a girl
who wants to be
somebody else is there
at the county fair
it's her
and the boys are boasting
as she flicks her hair
and giggles and sips on a bottle of fanta through a straw
but her face it changes and it fades
and then she's gone
again or still i guess
but there you are in your dress
your face it remains and it's mine
i like the way it shines
forever in my mind

earmuffs

have you ever tried to buy earmuffs? it's a lot harder than you think. first most regular stores don't even carry them or they think it's a joke just tell me where they are okay i mean are they with the hats or with the gloves or with the ladies shoes or whatever just point me and i'll find it..

tehn you finally find a place that has earmuffs but they only have those ones with the plastic things under the furry stuff and you can totally feel that shit on your ears and it isn't comfortable at all.

or they only have yellow earmuffs. yellow. who wears yellow earmuffs.

or they're bent because some asshole kid has been trying them on.

and then you finally find a comfy pair in a good color and you wear them around for a good two or three days but end up leaving them on the bus or in the bathroom (you can't shit with earmuffs on) or at your ex-girlfriend's house or some place that you can't even remember. i know i should just let them hang around my neck when i'm not wearing them but it sounds stupid but my neck is allergic to the furry stuff they use in earmuffs so i get all itchy and red.

my ears aren't allergic and my doctor says that's normal to be allergic in one place but not in another.

i got blue earmuffs.

and so it goes

she came
all high
and mighty in her mind
in a daze
not fitting in
and dismissing our ways
wearing ugg boots
and a t-shirt from the olden days
1995
who was she
to judge me
and my friends and the things we wear
not that i care
about a girl with fucked up hair
she's gone now
back i guess
to the land of boys with tattoos of girls in thongs
where she belongs
where they sing karaoke to bon jovi songs
smoking pipes instead of bongs
where did she go
though
really it wasn't so bad having her around
different way of thinking
feet on the ground
i miss that sparkle in her eye and the way her hair would fly 
when she rode her bike without a helmet
dammit
not good enough for us
i suppose
but better too
and so it goes

my t-shirt

my t-shirt has a collar
two sleeves
the main bit
and an opening at the bottom
the opening at the bottom doesn't really have a name
so i just call it the opening at the bottom
oh and the main bit has a picture on the front
it is a picture of rob lowe playing the saxophone
and on the back of the t-shirt it says "it ain't a party till something gets broken"
which is my favorite part of the t-shirt
only i kind of wish it was on the front under the picture of rob lowe playing the saxophone
but i guess there wasn't room
and there's a little round hole just above the opening at the bottom
i tell people that it's a cigarette burn but as far as i know it's just a moth hole
is that a thing? a moth hole?
what i mean is that a moth chewed a hole in my t-shirt and it looks a little bit like a cigarette burn

why don't robots have any hair

it isn't fair
to build men without any hair
you give them arms and legs
and square headed robot faces
eyeballs
elbows
attitude
it's rude
poor bald bodied robots
no beard
or pubes
or hair in any of the usual places
next time gut a bear
then stuff your artificial intelligence and microchips
in there
bearbots