New Story

My piece "Being a Writer" at Shelf Life Magazine:

http://www.shelflifemagazine.com/Writer.html

or, if you prefer, at the Swedish part of the internet.

Yes, I accidentally got this one placed twice. It may start a chain reaction of doom. But likely not.

http://www.frostwriting.com/issues/article/being-a-writer/

Carolers

The wind howled as the rain poured. It was the night before Christmas. Larry and Shelley Frank were eating roast quail and butternut squash soup, accompanied by a glass of Spanish Merlot, when there was a knock at the door. Shelley got up and answered it. “Larry, come here quick,” Shelley said in a tone that indicated, “You better not make me go through this alone,” not “You gotta see this!” Larry threw his napkin down and slid out his chair in the way that conveys “supreme inconvenience.” In their yard were Carolers, “Joy to the World” at their mouths. A young boy, seven, played the recorder while ten adults stood around singing to the sky and waving their arms with mitten-covered hands.

Larry lit a cigarette; Shelley pulled a flask out of her housecoat, finishing it in one slug. The Carolers left, oblivious to anything but themselves. The Franks shut the door and went back inside.

“Well, that’s a good way to ruin a perfectly good Christmas,” said Larry.
“Amen,” said Shelley.
“Can you grab me a beer, Hon?” said Larry.
“Fuck you,” said Shelley, “Get it yourself you miserable Bastard.”
“Stuff it up your cunt you ass-faced Bitch,” said Larry.

The Franks went to sleep leaving all the lights on.

In the morning they fucked but Larry came too early. Shelley said, “Ahh, for Christ’s sake,” and got up, pulling her soiled nightgown down as she wandered off to the toilet. Larry rolled over and lit a cigarette.

Around the tree they opened each others gifts. For Larry, the toque that came with last night’s fifteen pack of Budweiser. Shelley got some of her own perfume and a discount box of tampons Larry bought at the Chinese convenience store while Shelley was in the shower.

The fireplace roared, fueled by a knitted sweater, an Asian fusion cookbook, and several electronic devices.

Shelley threw the wrapping paper in the garbage while Larry took the dog out for a shit on the curb.

They made breakfast. Larry burned the eggs. Shelley burned the toast. The sausages weren’t cooked fully through. Larry absent-mindedly ashed in the orange juice. Shelley pulled the coffee pot out before it was finished brewing and burned her hand.

“The dog’s humping the turkey,” said Larry.
“The cat has worms,” said Shelley.
“Fuck,” they both said.

The dishes were left in the sink, the cat licking up the grease from the pans.
The Frank’s went to their offices cursing one another along the way, “Fuck you” this and “Fuck you” that.

They settled in at their computers and with all the Yuletide clarity one could ever ask for, sent identical emails to their lawyers with the subject heading “I want a divorce.”

Miracle on Our Street

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House Sitting Instructions

1. Jo Ann’s #: 403-XXX-XXXX (marginalia says “flashlight for night walks”).

2. Lulu: 2 walks a day, as before. 1 or 2 pees during day. Large cookie at 9pm. Keep her on the leash and close to you especially when nearing small, yappy dogs, which she hates. Otherwise, the leash can be let out. Put her harness and collar on vestibule bench for Tanis and Ralph (make sure key is under mat) to get on Monday morning. Food: ½ cup (coffee cup) of crunch, one large plop of dog food (soft) for morning and dinner. MAKE SURE KEY IS UNDER MAT (note stating “repeated” and an arrow to marginalia denoting “make sure key is under mat).

3. Cats: ¼ can am and pm. Also crunch in Mud Room if Eli gets too demanding, ie he won’t shut up. Use sparingly. Keep Mud Room door shut otherwise Eli gets into crunch.

4. You: eat anything in fridge, freezer or cupboards but NOT squash soup in stainless steel container in freezer- we’re having that Monday night. There are three packs of Sole in freezer (marginalia: there are no potatoes). If you run out of candles don’t use the red ones- if you find them-, they’re for Christmas. Use utility white ones in drawer next to sink. Don’t snoop for Christmas presents. There aren’t any for you. Lots of toilet paper. Don’t use Anna’s car on Monday. She’s coming back Tuesday night and has an appointment on Wednesday. Check out new TV and zippy vacuum in vestibule closet. You’ll want that to clean up. (Marginalia: for puke and shit on carpet: use spray water and sponge up. Don’t rub or use soap and hot water.)

Lock doors when going out. Don’t leave fire unattended, lights and heat off if not here. Otherwise, thanks and have fun. XO, Mom.

Thursday November 18th. A List.

Things I said to strangers today while delivering car parts. Some are instant reactions to things so banal my responses were incomprehensible, some are so straight forward and boring I wish I didn't exist.

1. Guy: How you doing today? Me: Not bad!

2. Guy: Kinda looks like it might rain today, eh? Me: I heard it might snow. Guy: Sure hope not!

3. Girl: It looks like you're delivering take-out when you bring parts in brown paper bags. Me: It's Chinese, spring rolls and chop suey. Girl: Hee hee.

4. Other delivery parts guy from another company at Simeo Auto: Man, bay and government is real backed up with that construction. Who do they think they are doing that during rush hour? Me: Ha. Yeah. Cars fast lane slow, bad traffic up there (incomprehensible, I know, but what do you say to that, too many things I suppose, and I got all "jammed up").

5. Guy: I hate waiting for your parts from Vancouver, you should have them at the warehouse. Me: I'll speak to management.

6. Guy: Thanks, Buddy. Me (in my head): Do not call me "buddy," asshole. I'm thirty-two.

7. Guy: You should have brought this tomorrow with the rest of the shipment. Me: Well, it was on my way. So why not? Guy: Not very resourceful. Me: Thanks!

8. Guy: The return parts are always at the bottom left of the counter, just so you know now, so you don't need to ask. Me: What kind of cars do you sell? (this at the Jaguar dealership. might hear back on this one)

9. Guy: Hey there, World Pack Guy! Me: Hey there, Auto mechanic guy! Guy: Sure is getting close to the end of the week! Me: It sure is! Guy: Take care now! Me: You too!

10. Guy: Do you guys sell CV Ball Joints for 1997 Volkswagen Jettas. Me: What's a CV Ball Joint?

Craigslist

I got bored of trying to look for a job so I made up my own and posted it on Craigslist:


I am a Lion Enterprises specializes in pet management and nearly all areas of love, affection, discipline training, daily face-to-face interactions, and routine feeding through our family of volunteers. I am a Lion Enterprises is proud to provide assisted living and nurturing to all of our employees. The popularity of our work place environment has seen several of our employees spend their entire careers with us, though, regrettably, on occasion, careers have been cut short by accidental death due to vehicular interference, abduction, and straight-up “wandering away.” So, we're looking for an enthusiastic individual with the right skill set and a can-do attitude to join our team.

Job Title: Feline Companion
This is a full-time, on-call, on-site requirement at our office in Victoria, BC.

SUMMARY
Responsible for the development, support, and maintenance of various family relationships

PRIMARY RESPONSIBILITIES
1. The use of a litter box with minimal supervision.
2. The killing of small animals as required.
3. Providing a warm, friendly presence when the family is sleeping and/or watching television.
4. Other duties as assigned.

ADDITIONAL RESPONSIBILITIES
1. Avoid the dinner table during meal times.
2. Be able to let oneself out in the middle of the night.

KNOWLEDGE AND SKILL REQUIREMENTS

1. Basic behavioral traits associated with being a cat. These are normally acquired through genetic disposition.
2. Ability to maintain composure in the presence of dogs.
3. While it is understood you may not know the difference between a mouse and a bird, we’d appreciate it if you kept the bird slaughter to a minimum.
4. Ability to not get stuck in a tree.
5. Work well with adults and children of varying skill sets.
6. Skill with the following is encouraged:

• Meow Script v. 2.3 (minimal requirement)
• Knowing when dinner is and to not start asking for it three hours before it is served
• Cleaning one’s “privates” in private
• Linux
• Keeping corpses outdoors
• Ability to discern the scratching post from the couch
• Recreational use of Catnip is okay

Thank you for your interest in I am a Lion Enterprises!

Robo Lasagna

I like to cook. I'm not fantastic. But I'm okay. Amazingly, today was the first time I had ever made Lasagna on my own. It reminded me of a story I wrote for a contest a while back. It was for M&M Meats, the idea to write about a family cooking memory. I only found out about the contest an hour before the deadline so I whipped something up. I didn't win the $200 worth of free meat. But, whatever, you can only have so much ground beef at once:

Robo Lasagna

Growing up, meal times were a very routine process. Dinner was always at six and preparation usually started around five. My younger sister would help with chopping veggies for the salads, and, over time, she would learn the basic cooking skills that allowed her to contribute to the meals with my mother’s supervision. I was trusted with some lighter tasks, such as setting the table, doing the dishes, and entertaining the dog.

There was a lone bar stool that overlooked the counter and I often hung around on it watching dinner be made. I sat slumped, my head resting in my hands, my feet kicking together. My father would not be home from work until just before dinner, so I would gaze away at my sister and mother chatting. I felt left out. It was like I was the lone audience member for a community cooking show. Monday to Friday, it was like this for years.

My mother and sister were making Lasagna one day. I was sitting on the bar stool as usual. There was a basket on the ledge between the counter and bar stool and I was rooting through it. In it I found a box of staples. Eventually, my mother put the lasagna noodles in a casserole dish beside the kitchen sink, which was right in front of me. She went back to the stove to help my sister with something, and while they were there I showered the cooling lasagna noodles with staples.

I have no idea why I did this. I still don’t. A cry for attention? To be a part of the process? Like, in some way, throwing staples into a pan of lasagna noodles would contribute to the meal making process. I didn’t say anything and the lasagna was cooked ala staples. I must have dropped about fifteen in.

We sat down to eat, the four of us, and before we began, I told everyone what I had done. My father was outraged, calling me a Doorknob, a Ding-a-Ling, and a “right fucking asshole.” My mother looked on the verge of tears. My sister didn’t know what to think because she was only seven, but I think she copied my father’s reaction and started repeating his insults.

I’m not sure why I decided then to mention it. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe I knew that eating staples could ruin our intestines thus creating the potential for ulcers. I’m not sure. I was only ten. But all that is irrelevant to what that meal would eventually mean to us as a family.

My father would go to his toolbox and grab a large circular magnet. Each of us would be plated with a piece of lasagna and we would take turns hovering the magnet over it. It didn’t really work, as a tiny staple is not going to get pulled through mounds of melted cheese. But it was hilarious; we were in hysterics. We chewed each slice slowly, making outrageous faces towards one another.

We recovered several of the staples and no one ended up knowingly eating any, and, if they did, nothing serious happened. But it has had a lasting effect. It’s a memory that bonds the family. And still, to this day, someone, inevitably, when at a family dinner, will say, “Excuse me, can you pass me the Magnet?”