Monday, January 30, 2006

Some people asked to guest-blog here. I agreed, but not because they’re famous authors (live and dead), but because they swore they’d write an ongoing story about me and my day-to-day life. I figured, what the hell, knock yourselves out.

Charles Bukowski

Michael woke up with his head pounding. He drank his coffee, wishing he had something to Irish it up. He had polished off that fifth of Chivas last night. He and that woman with the he met at Hollywood Park yesterday, the one with the big tits. Bitch couldn’t pick horses, but man could she put away the sauce. Michael kicked the empty bottle on the floor. Son of a bitch. Stubbed his fucking toe.

He’d have to go to the supermarket and get something to jumpstart himself. He only had a few bucks on him, so it’d be Early Times whiskey or Stalingrad vodka.

But Von’s wasn’t open yet. 7-11 was. They sold wine.

Michael needed to get dressed fast. He opened the door to his closet, feet bare, hands trembling. He didn’t think the shakes were that bad until he tried to lace up his boots over his sore toe. Couldn’t keep his fingers steady. And then he spotted the shoe polish at the bottom of the closet.

The polish was black, just like his coffee. The two went well together. He slurped it down in one gulp. Oh yeah, that hit the spot.

Stephen King

When he finally headed out that morning, Michael sensed something ominous. Especially as he stopped off at the bagel place. Back in Michael’s home town, when he was a kid, there had been a child murdered at the local kosher bakery. Thrown in with the bread dough and boiled alive. Reports said the killer was heard that night, cackling and yelling “Who’s your poppy?” And perhaps it was just an old wives’ tale, but legend was the lox spread was made from the poor little boy’s internal organs.

A chill came over Michael as he went to pay for his bialy with schmear. He shrugged off the feeling and took out his ATM card. The only thing that’s haunted, Michael thought, is my bank account. Just like most things that are empty.

Dan Brown

Michael scanned his card and tried to remember his PIN.

-Chapter 2-

“MakeMineMike” has 12 letters, with M and E appearing three times, I and K appearing twice. Only N and A appear once. N is the 14th letter of the alphabet, A is the first. Yet Na is the chemical symbol for sodium, which is the 11th element, but has an atomic weight of 23.

Which was it? 12? 14? 11? 23?

-Chapter 3-

The man behind the counter was waiting.

Michael reached into his wallet. “You take Visa?”

William Shakespeare

Friends, Americans, Californians,
Lend me your ears.
Or, pray, make use of your confounded eyes.
Hath not a driver eyes?
If I signal, dost thou not let me in thy lane?
If I let you in mine, wherefore art thou creeping?
Deny thy cellphone and refuse thy call.
Get thee to a nunnery, or out of my way.
Out, damned SUV!

Dr. Seuss

I do not like these traffic jams
I do not like them, man oh man!


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