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Issue 6 October 4, 1998
New columnist this issue. Goes by the nom de plume of Joshman. We're pretty heavy on the comedy side this time around, but we do have Mr. Dave Gitomer with some kickass poetry, and i, of course, have the next two chapters of my story. It's my magazine, so i can do things like that.
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Copyright 1998 by Shadow Wall Press. All Rights Reserved. Published Wheneverwefeelikeit by Shadow Wall Press
Contributors:
Dave Dembinski
Joshman
Dave Gitomer
Dolomite
BEDTIME STORY
Chapter 3
He couldn't believe he was working the drive-thru again. He'd been a manager for eight years, and he was working the fucking drive-thru because some punk kid called off for some stupid-ass high school dance. The bell went off, indicating a customer.
"Can i help you?"
"Yeah. How much're those 99-centers?"
He had to grab onto the coke machine to keep from punching through the window.
"99 cents, sir."
"I'll take 10."
The next few went by with reasonable intelligence displayed, and then he had to deal with the idiot element again.
"I'll take a five-piece chicken tender, uhh, two whoppers, hold the onions, and three orders of onion rings." 'She doesn't want onions, so she orders onion rings.', he thought to himself.
"That'll be $6.47. Anything else?"
"Yeah. How many tenders do i get?"
~*~
After 6 hours without a break, he was ready to start strangling customers. If one more idiot came through here, that idiot would die. The bell went off.
"Can i help you?" Perhaps a little too much irritation shone in his voice, but he didn't care right now.
"I'll have a # 1, no onions, and a coke."
"That'll be $4.19. Please drive through to the second window." This was a strange one.
He recognized this voice, but he didn't know where from. A giant grey cadillac pulled up with the windows down, and a face he'd seen in his head countless times the past few weeks. Music blasted out of the car. He knew this song. It was "Walk Away" by Bad Religion. He was transfixed for the moment as the lyrics pounded his head.
-Shut off the tv and peel off those Sunday gloves
-And I'll stain the clean that you've been counting
-Old Mr. Fletcher passed by here today after 40 years of toil he just up and walked away.
-Fantastic the panic that shone in his eyes
-He shrugged when i asked him about it
-He said "Young man, pay heed, you listen well to what i say"
-"Now there comes a time for a man to walk away."
"$4.19, please." He shook his head to clear it.
-Walk away (walk away) I'll lead a parade, and i'll be determined that no one shall dissuade on my way i'll take my sweet time, and burn all the bridges that i'm leaving behind
And something snapped. Now, feeling completely vindicated in his own volition, he handed the change to the girl, took off his apron and visor and threw them into the deep fryer, turned on his heel and left the restaurant, with customers and colleagues staring open-mouthed after. The door slammed shut behind him and his tires squealed roaring down the street.
-Passed by here again and he was shivering with cold
-I'm not sure, but I think that he was trying
-He told me about the weather, and something old to pay
-"But tomorrow", he said, "i'm gonna surely walk away."
Chapter 4
He buckled the leather holster and snapped the leather flap shut over his re-issue Colt Peacemaker. This was followed by a bandolier and a 1960 Swiss bayonet. He was thankful now that he'd been an amateur weapon collector. Never a good idea to leave home unarmed, or so he'd found.
All these shining swords and guns, useless now. The shields and armor, too. Why had he spent so much time and money on a strange pursuit like this? Was his life so horrid that he escaped through artifacts of death to a more exciting time?
He locked the door, turned, and breathed long. This was the last time he'd have this view. The neighborhood he'd known since childhood, and the folks next door hating him for being such a recluse. Not understanding, and not wishing to understand why he didn't join in their suburbia revelry. They didn't care anymore, really. He hadn't cared for decades.
He took the house and car keys out of his pocket and tossed the mon to the welcome mat. The deed to the house, his driver's license, SS card and birth certificate followed, and were covered soon after by a small note. Having done these, he left and never looked back.
mat. The deed to the house, his driver's license, SS card and birth certificate followed, and were covered soon after by a small note. Having done these, he left and never looked back.
A homeless man who passed by every day noticed these things and went to see what they were doing there. Plucking the note from it's place on the steps, he read it and looked around in disbelief. The words on the paper worked their way into his brain and gained strength until they burst into a heavenward call. "It's paid for!!"
A homeless man who passed by every day noticed these things and went to see what they were doing there. Plucking the note from it's place on the steps, he read it and looked around in disbelief. The words on the paper worked their way into his brain and gained strength until they burst into a heavenward call. "It's paid for!!"
THE FORUM
Here's where the stuff you send me gets its due.
BODY PARTS
LONGINGS REVISITED
time passes as clock, days ebb
evolving into months then years.
yet some things stay fresh,
pristine in their emotion, pure.
things always in flux, changing.
blonde hairs gray, blue eyes falter
but some things never tarnish.
never being, what they once were,
turning finer as wine aging in
vintner's oaken cask. for
loving memories are not dismissed
overly lightly, treasured moments
are not easily lost or erased.
they swirl and dance, basking
in auras of veiled past events.
always longing, hoping for their return.
VISIONS AND VESTIGES
I looked into infinity
and it failed to blink.
I sought true affinity
and lost its link.
left totally alone,
I sought the stars,
but found pan and
pencil, spotted ink.
freeing introspection
eyeing observation,
evolution to concrete
expression, the pathway
often blocked, other
ways opened. with a
sense of wonderment
I kept looking.
TRAVELOGUE
changes seem
too easy and call
more than hard to do
for if I went to
Topeka, my shadow
would follow me.
beckoned by the south
pacific, in Tahiti, a topical
sun would still cast my
shadow. though on
rainbow corals under
clear brines. this quandary
is not solvable. where can
one go to leave oneself behind?
or more pertinent, why
would this matter press?
Dave Gitomer
THE PADDED ROOM
!!!Warning: The writers of these columns have severe emotional difficulties. I can't control what they write. If I were to reprimand them, the consequences could include verbal abuse, exposing themselves for no apparent reason, and the sadistic mutilation of any small animals present. I know this from harsh experience. Poor Scruffy...
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RANTING
It's that time again. It's time for another fucking Ranting. This week's topic: Halloween. You may be asking, "Dolomite, isn't it too early to be talking about Halloween?" Fuck no, you stupid Christian. It is October, is it not? Halloween is in October, is it not? Therefore, it is not too fucking early to talk about Halloween. I bet you're one of the ones that give out apples or pennies. You stupid son of a bitch. Give candy for God's sake.
Speaking of Godly things (and no, this is not leading to the size of my genitalia), Halloween was an actual Christian holiday. People dressed up in costumes of demons, and other evil things, to scare away the "real" demons of the night. In actuality, it was just an excuse to get drunk and kill people. "Look everyone, I killed a demon!" "No, Lloyd, that's old farmer McDoogle." "Well, he was evil, wasn't he?" "No Lloyd, but he was Irish."
Crazy Christians, next thing you know, they will be celebrating their God's son's birthday. I mean really, how many "tasty" mushrooms do you have to eat before you come up with the idea for this holiday. Thank God for Hershey. They thought, "Hmm, if the parents are getting drunk, then the kids should get a sugar rush!" Ah, the magic year of 1922. Peace was settling in Chile. Tree-hugging hippies weren't to be around for another...umm...couple of decades, and Clinton was not in the news. Good times for all, except the Jews. They were to be screwed in the coming years like a five-dollar whore trapped in a prison yard during exercise hour. Poor Jews. Oh well, back to the crazy Christians.
Like I was saying, in 1934, Hershey decided to start selling candy for Halloween. The campaign started off as an excuse to beat up Indians. "Hersheys, gives your kid the boost of energy needed to take down even the largest drunk Indian, some of the sober ones too!" After many incidents of ignorant children being beat up by large Indian gentlemen, Hershey decided to change the slogan. It then became "Hersheys, it just tastes like chocolate."
Well, that's all for this time. If I get the chance to write another Ranting before Halloween, then it will be done, and it may be good. I make no promises; they are to fun to break. So, till dentists sue Hersheys for cavities and win, be here next time for a good bit of hormonal angst against something in the world.
Dolomite
I'M DUMBER THAN I LOOK
SURE...THAT MAY SEEM AS A HARSH THING TO JUDGE MYSELF AS, BUT READ ON ANDI'M SURE YOU'LL SOON COME TO AGREE WITH ME. Ok. So, let's go a few weeks back in time, shall we? Say...oh, I dunno.
Labor Day Weekend. I was sitting at home, doing nothing, cause that's what I like to do. The LABOR DAY MOVIE FESTIVAL was getting pretty boring, so I think to myself "hey. Call up the woman so she can take you somewhere." (with my parents being out of town and all, I had no transportation, ergo, no fun) So she says to me "my dad's not home, I can't get the car." Oh well...maybe next time. Back to the movies. So, after sitting through PCH for the second time, a brilliant thought popped into my noggin. Why don't you take your mom's car, Josh? She's not here, and no one will ever be the wiser.(the voice in my head obviously forgot to count in the fact that there would be a noticeable amount of gasoline missing from the car.) So I figure, "what the hey! It's only grand theft auto. I'll plead insanity." I go upstairs, get mama's keys, and head for the car, (being very sneaky-like [ala James Bond] and ducking behind bushing, not to let the russian spies see me. [speaking of russian spies, are there a ton of them at strong vincent or what?!?])
~EDITOR'S NOTE: Strong Vincent is the school Josh, Dolomite and I attend.~ and hop in undetected by parental radar. I turn the ignition, crank up the new VANDALS record, and hit the road. Hhhmm...where to go. how about the mall...no one will recognize me in my mom's stolen car inone of the busiest places in erie! Especially counting my greenish-blueish-dumbish-looking hair and all. So, I get to the mall, park, and head inside. Aahhh yes... WAVES MUSIC. If Heaven has a music store, this is what it will look like. Ooohh...they have the new DIGGER album. Yah! I purchase the CD and head over to McDonalds for a little McMunchin. I order a #1 value meal. That's a big mac, large fries, anda large McBeverage of my choice. Well...after waiting for what seemed like a McHour, I went and found the manager and yelled at him because I had been in his McRestaurant for a McHour and didn't have my Mc-ing food yet. (I was a little angry.) (hungry boys need McNourishment!)
So, my food finally arrives and who brings it out? Josie...rats. foiled again, someone who knows I took my mommy's ride. (of course...i suppose it is kinda my fault seeing how i was bragging about driving without a license and all.) Anyhow, I enjoyed my cold big mac and fries, and went back out to the car. Parking lots are big...WHERE IN GOD'S NAME DID I PARK THAT THING??? Never before have I seen so many black nissan
sentras in my life as I did that day. And NONE OF THEMWERE MINE! After searching for nearly a half hour, I found the rizzie. I hopped in, and took of for Books Galore. There I talked to Jeffery, told him what CD I had gotten, and left. So I get home, take some pills for my McHeartburn, and watch some more TV, and didn't think a thing about the car. Until...my parents arrived home the next night, and didn't say anything about it.
Then...Tuesday night, mom comes upp..."Josh, there's a lot of gas missing from the car...you didn't take it, did you?"...NO! how could you accuse me of something like that?! i thought I was old enough that you could trust my good judgment and responsibility!...I was laying it on thick. Then my step-dad asked me...he's a bit more intimidating than ole mama. I told him some BS story about how Danielle's (girlfriend) car broke down, so we had to take our car, and that it wouldn't happen again.
So, they kept pressuring me for the next two nights, and I realized that I WAS DUMB and I should just tell em because I'm terrible at lying. So, I told em the truth, and received the response...WE KNOW...WE WERE JUSTWAITING FOR YOU TO TELL US...YOU'RE TERRIBLE AT LYING. Great. Even my parents are better liars than me. But, they were cool about it, and I only received two weeks of total and unadulterated groundation. Being grounded is lame, but I suppose at least I didn't kill anyone with my mom's car and no license...yet...
Just one more thing, and i'll finish this crap. My band's (FYI) CD will be coming out soon, and I am proud (or is it ashamed) to say that Dolomite sang a metal song on the album. Buy the CD and hear it for yourself. He's a big dumb teddy bear...isn't he? Later.
-Joshman-
FROM THE DESK OF DAVE
There's a new semi to add to the massive interstate wreck that is my spirituality. Scene: Sitting in church, wondering how i could be doing this and not feeling like a hypocrite. Answer: I am god. Before i'm burned at the stake, allow me to explain.
The God the Christians and Jews worship is themselves. There's three components to human "being". One is consciousness. Two is subconsciousness. And three is God, a sort of...well, awareness will do. It's always there, and has been there forever, and will be there as long as humans are. It is omnipotent and omnipresent, because everywhere and everything that humans are and know, it is and knows. It's the reason psychics can operate. They can tap into the collective consciousness, the God stream, and know what everything knows.
Jesus. Buddha of a different sort. He WAS God. The only human ever to connect completely to his "I Am". You all know the rest.
And so my quest goes on, either towards God or something else. And when you're angry with me for explaining your religion, remember that I Am, and You Are, He Is, She Was, and Everything Will Be.
Dave
GRAFFITI
I hate puppies! Waddaya think about that? HUH?
hey dave,
a very juicy issue of THE HOLD. keep pumped!
ur
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THE TOWN SCREAMER
As good ol' Ross Perot would say, "You can't throw a porcupine in a barn, light it on fire, and expect to make licorice." He had a lot of money, so he could tell people this on national tv. You don't have a lot of money, so you can tell people things right here. For free.
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FIVE AND DIME
No. We don't sell cigar store Indians.
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UPCOMING ISSUE - Colonial Issue, in honor of Turkey Day. Now, I realize that the colonists had nothing to do with that particular holiday, but who thinks of Abe Lincoln when they're stuffing themselves and watching football? Comes out Thanksgiving Day.