Blackhumouristpress's Blog

September 5, 2019

From Hockey to Yoga

Ali sat in a massage chair at a mall waiting for the Lululemon store to open. The name Ali is short for Alistair and Ali was tired.   How tired? He played hockey late night and then went out to have one with some friends after their game. Ali never got mad a the dumb decision making of the once a week guys on the team who panic when they get the puck and dump it or fire a shot at your head instead of making a pass. The same type of player will look you in the eye when you’re open and decide that they have a better option- a 1 on 3 perhaps with stone hands that will assuredly end in losing the fucking puck… Sorry, the thought of that makes me a little crazy. Where was I? Oh yeah…

So Ali was parked at the Lululemon store Saturday on Woodward in downtown Detroit. He sat in the car as his wife took their twin girls inside to try on over priced yoga pants while he watched a parade of Tigers fans walk towards Comerica Park to catch a game. There were bars on wheels where a dozen people pedaled a device around downtown while drinking and listening to Salsa Music. That seemed like a good time to Ali. Ali got a text.

 

SO THE GIRLS ARE A SIZE TWO AND THEY HAVE BLACK. IT WOULD COME OUT TO ABOUT $160.00 WITH TAX FOR BOTH OF THEM.

 

Ali would have liked to sit in the bleachers for $10.00 but he was sitting in the car waiting close to an hour while stick figure twin daughters tried on over priced Lycra. He had a response for his wife.

FUCK THAT… WE FIND SOMETHING AT THE GAP.

 

Ali’s wife had a response…

 

HOW MUCH DO YOU SPEND BUYING YOUR BUSTOUT BUDDIES DRINKS AFTER HOCKEY GAMES? HOW MUCH DO YOU TIP THE CUTE LITTLE THING BEHIND THE BAR? I’M GONNA GUESS THAT WITH THE COST OF HOCKEY, DRINKS AND TIPS, YOU’RE PRETTY GODDAMN CLOSE TO A COUPLE A PAIRS OF YOGA PANTS.

 

Ali stood his ground. He said no to the girls and settled for headbands and scrunches for their wrists and not their hair. The twins were disappointed. He took his wife and the girls to Mexicantown. The ladies wanted to go to Greektown. They ate their Mexican food in angry silence. When they got home, their 3-month-old puppy had shit all over his cage and smeared it all over his fluffy coat. The house smelled… Well, like shit. Ali’s wife weighed in while he cleaned shit off of the cage and she hosed a howling puppy in the backyard.

 

“You will go buy those fucking pants tomorrow… Hockey last night, hockey tonight and hockey tomorrow. Summer league playoffs, right? And possibly stopping off for one. Isn’t that what you guys say to one another? Let’s stop off for one and then you close the damn place. I have to hear how tired you are and how sore you are. Bullshit to that… You either go back downtown tomorrow or go to the mall. The girls asked for one thing each for their birthday and even though Lululemon seems expensive to you, I can tell you that it is less money than the CCM triple XXX asshole stick with the 100 flex and Crosby fucking curve you sent me into buy… I’m supposed to know that you’re a fucking lefty too? And so I go back to get a righty for a mere $250.00. I saw the price of that and almost fainted. You pitch a fit over $160.00 for your daughters’ pants. I have news for you- those yoga pants will last a lot longer than your overpriced stick that Crosby gets for free after you pay the fucking ransom for it… Are we clear on this?”

Ali got into a fight at the night game early in the 3rd period, took a shower and waited at the bar for the guys. He wanted to punch his wife but found someone on the ice to take it out on. Ali told the boys at the bar that they needed to cover him because he needed to buy yoga pants in the morning. He got home at 1am. The puppy got excited in the cage at the sight of Ali and not only shit but pissed. It was about 2am when he got the cage cleaned up. He picked the pup up and let him sleep on his chest while watching the NHL channel until he fell asleep on the couch. About 7am, his daughters came down the stairs like it was Christmas morning. Ali, smelling a bit like gin, snapped at his daughters and told them that they needed to get to school and that there would be no opening presents until after school. The girls were nearly in tears and his wife stood above him on the top step with folded arms and tight lips.

Ali decided to get to the mall up north and buy the damn pants. Two pairs. He guessed that 9am would be opening time but was wrong. He sat in the massage chair while old people walked around getting exercise before stores opened at 10am. Ali knew he was in the doghouse and constructed a beautiful text.

 

I FORGET A LOT OF SHIT THAT I EXPERIENCED IN LIFE. IT’S SORT OF LIKE SEEING A MOVIE YEARS AGO. I SAW IT A LONG TIME AGO BUT FORGOT MOST OF IT. I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY WE MARRIED OR THE DAY THE GIRLS WERE BORN. I REMEMBER EVERY DETAIL OF BOTH DAYS. THEY ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT DAYS IN MY LIFE. I AM GETTING THE PANTS AND WE WILL GO TO MEDIEVIL TIMES TONIGHT… THEY WILL BE IN BED BY 9:30. I WILL OPEN THAT EXPENSIVE BOTTLE OF WINE WE BOUGHT IN NAPA. I WANT YOU TO WEAR THAT BLACK NIGHT GOWN WITH THE DENTAL FLOSS UNDERWEAR. I WILL PEEL THOSE OFF OF YOU AND FLING THEM LIKE A SLINGSHOT ACROSS THE ROOM. I WILL LIGHT THE CANDLES AND PLAY THAT MUSIC YOU LIKE… I HAVE TOLD THE GUYS THAT I CANNOT MAKE TONIGHT’S GAME EVEN THOUGH IT IS A PLAYOFF GAME. YOU AND THE GIRLS ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN HOCKEY TO ME AND THAT IS SAYING A LOT. I LOVE YOU.

 

Ali loved hockey a lot and it might have been a tie between hockey and the women in his life but he did the right thing and for that, he wanted a pat on the ass. And every man wants one.

Advertisements

August 24, 2019

Raider Nation in a Green Bay Tent City

Wayne would watch the people traipse across his lawn during football season to the Mecca of NFL football stadiums- Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin. He wondered how he could extract some of that cash that was flowing freely on game days. Sell beer or peanuts? Allow people to park their cars on his front lawn? Sure that would be good for $20.00 and maybe two cars could fit over the sidewalk. The idea came to Wayne to put up a tent in his backyard and post it on Airbnb. Picture a tent, a big tent and then picture a house you would not want to go into.

Wayne was a Vietnam veteran who was 100% covered by the government for his exposure to Agent Orange. Wayne would walk through the jungle devoid of foliage after a plane would drop the defoliant. At the time, it was no problem. He was under 20 year of age and vibrant. As time went on, he had crazy mood swings, inability to concentrate and problems procreating. He lived in the house with a mail order bride who could not speak English. She could speak Thai. The house crawled with bugs and the bugs didn’t bother Daisy, the Thai wife of Wayne. She kept the house clean except for the room where Wayne slept with the three German Sheppard dogs. Wayne had a hard time sleeping and staying asleep so he slept in what would have been the family room if they had a family on a mattress on the floor. Wayne watched graphic porn and Westerns and slept with loaded guns under his pillow in the family room with the dogs. Daisy slept upstairs in a clean room with a clean bathroom. During the day, Wayne would rough fuck his wife who he could not speak with and then he would go to the gym. Oh he would scream things in English with the logic that if he yelled loud enough, she would understand.

 

Wayne was indifferent to football but understood that it was a religion in the area and thought to make enough money to pay for him and Daisy to go back to Thailand to see her sick mother.

There were blow up beds and beanbags and a black and white television that only pulled in two channels locally in the prestigious tent. There was a plastic pool in the backyard with a fire pit and he got Wi-Fi as the bonus for whoever decided to pay the $200.00 a night when all other options were not possible.

It was a beautiful August evening in Green Bay. The Packers were playing the Raiders. Jaime, who did jail time for offenses with an unregistered gun as a young man, learned automotive in jail and opened his own garage in Oakland. Jaime was that rare success story. He wore a black hair net under his Raiders hat with a straight brim cocked to the right. He wore a plain white tank top shirt under a starched white shirt with only the top buttoned. He wore baggy trousers and shiny black dress shoes. Jaime got a ticket to Milwaukee and hired an Uber driver for $200.00 to drive him 90 minutes north to Green Bay. There were no rooms to be had practically down to the Illinois border due to vacations and the Packer game. Jaime settled for the tent.

Jaime looked at the accommodations with his wife Teresa and made a declaration.

“Mother fucking pinchy Hillbilly motherfucker is charging $200.00 a night to fucking camp out in his backyard… And motherfuckers like him went to the moon? I say bullshit to this bullshit…”

Teresa was used to their small stucco ranch in Oakland that was kept immaculate. The lack of screens on the window and the barking of the dogs scared her. The naked lady magazines on the floor of the bathroom that had piss stains on the bowl, shit like concrete splattered on the bowl, whiskers in the sink and chunks of meat pulled from between Wayne’s teeth were stuck to the mirror.   Shock and horror.

After the game, Jaime stood in the backyard talking to his help at the garage back in Oakland. He was telling his guys to get right on one car and tell the old bitch with the Oldsmobile that they were waiting on a part. Wayne sat in the backyard in a lawn chair drinking a beer, glaring at Jaime, who was wearing a Ken Stabler jersey over his Cholo clothes. The Raiders won by a field goal. Wayne attempted to make conversation with his guest but it went wrong, as was often the case.

“Do you and your senorita come from Mexico or did you make the trek from Guatemala? You people all look the same to me. I went to Tijuana once back after the war. I got the clap down there banging the broad who starred in the donkey show… They still got the donkey show down there?”

The ridiculous stereotyping and ignorance incensed Jaime

“Motherfucker… Did I see your white ass in Deliverance? Where you the dude fucking that fat motherfucker in the ass? I was born in Oakland. I am as American as your white ass and let me ask you something, pendejo… How does a motherfucker like you land a 12-year-old bitch looking like fucking Beetlejuice? How much you spend on yo woman?”

Wayne laughed at his houseguest, excused himself and returned with a case of Wisconsin beer and a bottle of tequila. Over the course of six hours, Wayne learned what it was like to live on the mean streets of Oakland as a Mexican gangbanger who did jail time and then became an entrepreneur. Jaime learned what it was like to have served in a really bad war and what it was like to kill people, take drugs and just try to make it day to day in a foreign land as a teenager. Jaime learned what it was like for someone like Wayne to have done something for others that wasn’t appreciated or wanted. They found common ground outside an Airbnb tent in Green Bay… And lived happily ever after. The end….

August 23, 2019

Anything Goes

Filed under: humor,humour,Ice hockey,Short Story,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 1:28 am
Tags: , , , ,

JP met Curt some time back at an early morning skate. Curt didn’t like his name so he had everyone call him Bouddha. Curt was unaware that he spelled Buddha wrong. He even got a tattoo with “Bouddha” on it. JP was the separated and went to live in an apartment with Bouddha. They were an odd couple to be sure.

 

JP held out hope that he would get back together with his wife.   She wasn’t interested. JP got word that his wife was seeing a hockey player from another men’s league team. It was a terrible scene. JP checked the door open with his shoulder to find his wife on a futon in a studio apartment watching Slapshot in bed, in the arms of another man that he was familiar with. JP beat the man for a while until his hands hurt and then grabbed a souvenir 5030 Sherwood wood hockey stick that had been once used by the actually Paul Coffey. He snapped it over his knee and clubbed the man who lay under a sheet naked like a baby seal. JP heard his wife calling the police in the other room and decided it was time to depart. Before leaving the apartment, JP grabbed the television and ran at the living room window and pushed it through. The television hit the concrete from the second floor and sounded like an atomic bomb exploded in the serene night air. Waiting next to the minivan practicing stickhandling with a golf ball was Bouddha. Bouddha was wearing a white leisure suit that he bought at a thrift shop and had some spiffy white shoes to go with it. His platinum dyed hair went well with his ensemble.

“Oooh damn… Hot damn! Did you shoot off a gun?”

“No, man… His television had an accident. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

The two went a Polish nightclub where cleaning women looked like runway models by night. Bouddha found a woman who looked a bit like Renee Zellwenger from Bridget Jones Diary. Bouddha kept calling her Bridget and they danced and drank. Bouddha took off his suit jacket and silk shirt with big lapels and danced in a tank top under shirt. White of course. It had holes all over and looked like a rag. One of his nipples poked through the shirt. Sitting alone drinking a rum and Coke was JP, replaying everything that he saw and did. Bouddha came up to him with Bridget and a smaller woman and forced JP to dance with the woman, a friend of Bridget’s.

 

At 4am the bar closed and the sky was becoming light blue. They all went back to the apartment of the smaller woman named Linda. She could sense that something was on the mind of JP. She invited him to her bedroom but told him that there was no way that he would be getting some. She rubbed his back with some sort of essential oils with his shirt off and he fell dead asleep. Meanwhile in the other room, Boudhha made something as close to love as he ever would make and then wind milled his nuts and cock while they listened to Van Halen loudly at about 6am. Bouddha packed the musket several times and pounded Bridget like he was a prizefighter. Love… Or something close.

 

The next evening at hockey, JP and Bouddha played a game with the police team even though they weren’t police. Bouddha scored two goals and JP played defense and passed the puck a lot. The cops beat the firemen and after the team went to a local watering hole. JP confided in a cop named Percy what he had done and wanted to know if there would be a warrant for his arrest. After a few drinks, JP and Bouddha followed Percy to the station to look up on the computer if there was in fact a warrant for his arrest. They sat across from Percy who was rubbing the scruff on his chin as he looked at the computer screen with a furrowed brow. He shook his head a few times and then looked up at the ceiling.

“Listen… I gotta take you both into custody. There is a warrant for both of your arrests. JP… This clown who was fucking your wife pressed charges and you Bouddha… It says here you got into a fistfight at a bar on Western last year. You gouged the guy’s eyes and then stuck your fingers up his ass… I shit you not. They got a warrant for your arrest. Assault and battery as well as sexual perversion… I’m going to have to arrest both of you. There’s cameras everywhere and they know I looked you two up on the computer… I have to arrest you both. Listen… I can bond you both out within an hour before they send you to county. I just gotta get to a cash machine.”

JP and Bouddha were handcuffed and put in a cell alone. After 20 minutes, Percy came back and uncuffed them. They both thanked him profusely for bonding them out. They asked how much it cost. Percy had an answer.

“Priceless… The look on faces of you two assholes was enough for me. There’s no warrant for your arrests. That bastard knew he had a beating coming and took it like a man… And you, you blond disaster… You couldn’t remember if maybe you put your fingers in some guy’s ass during a fist fight?”

“Well… Sometimes… Anything goes.”

August 3, 2019

New and Improving…

Motorized scooter headed fast towards me, grocery store jousting like Medieval Times towards the fat free, low sodium, stress reducing, diet drink with aspartame.

 

A moment of silence to reflect. A shot of Botox and a pill to get erect. You can wave like the queen on the float, trying to undo all the things you were thinking, last week when you were overdrinking.

 

Don’t let the bumper sticker define you, they might find you at a moment of weakness looking at your shoes giving crumbs to the birds.

 

You wanna know what I believe, what I think, what I’m doing? GPS my thoughts and interrupt it with an ad. “Take two of these with vodka when you get really sad…”

 

I’m virtually happy when I’m mad and smile with a frown with the ear buds in. It appears as though I’m talking to a friend, tread mill walking in lieu of progress until the end. Maybe Nietzsche could teach me, try to reach me and make sense of the modern day.

August 2, 2019

Saudade or BS in English

Elise waited for Bill for about an hour at the bar of a new gluten free, vegan restaurant in that hip new area of the city where anyone over the age of forty, looks out of place. She had two organic wines from a small winery in Oregon and felt safe knowing that there was no DDT, herbicides, pesticides or Agent Orange in her wine. She was rail thin with long, straight hair that she constantly put behind her ears as she read from her phone.

Bill posted pictures of himself on a dating site. Bill was not a thin mountain man looking guy. He was sort of a chubby man who loved to correspond with women he never met and had no intention in meeting. After hours of writing back and forth with Elise, poems and even a song he composed on his acoustic guitar, the time had come to meet. Bill forced the meeting when he descriptively described what he was going to do to when he got Elise in a bed. It went something like this-

 

I will cover the bed in rose pedals. Carlos Antonio Jobim will be playing softly. The aroma of lavender will fill the air from the candles that will alluminate the room just enough for you to see my face and I to see yours. Nothing will need to be said. I will start kissing your arms so gently that it will feel as though I’m hardly touching you. I will kiss your neck so softly while holding the base of your neck. I will gently kiss your top lip and then your bottom. We will become one. I will whisper sweet things in your ear in Portugues- É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

 

Elise read and re-read the message that made her a bit moist every time she read it. Bill had no intention in showing. He knew no Portuguese, owned no candles and lived in the basement of his mother’s home. It was all just a game to him and he thrived on the correspondence. Nothing more. While she waited for Bill, he dropped the bomb on her. In Portuguese. Loosely translated- I found another woman. I ain’t coming.

 

Eu encontrei o amor da minha vida … tristeza profunda para lhe dizer.

 

 

The bartender who looked a little bit like the 1970’s relief pitcher, Rollie Fingers or Salvador Dali with a ridiculous waxed mustache. A skinny man with a healthy libido who saw an opportunity to land another good looking sad chick sitting at the bar having a melt down. He asked Elise if he could read what was written. Two more wines and beet salad on the house and the Uber driver whisked them away to the studio apartment of the bartender. He happened to play ac

acoustic guitar. He happened to know Jobim songs in English. His neighbor had a rose bush and he had one Yankee candle that he lit that smelled a bit like citrus that masked the smell of unwashed clothes. Was love found and nurtured from that day on? I would have to say no. There are many men who set the table just for other men to eat upon.

July 17, 2019

America- 2020 Poor Vision

America 2020- two visions one schism.

One part Racism one part socialism and stir to a boil.

 

Bubble gum bubble gum in a dish which candidate do you pick? Attack the president and hope it sticks before the electorate gets too sick.

 

Some salute the flag and some kneel… this is a free country do what you feel… Unless you don’t think or look like me. In that case you’re the enemy.

 

Children, I have to warn you

Because I’ve been to California.

Needles is not just a city and there’s a reason the parks are so shitty.

 

The woke spoke and want to build moats along Nevada and near Philly. Those fly over red states are just dang silly. Gun loving hicks chasing queers in big trucks.   I just can’t believe those xenophobic fucks. They don’t even like Starbucks.

 

There’s no reason for a border

Things will work out and we’ll keep order.

We are making preparations, free college and reparations. How could the middle class have reservations?

 

AOC- can you see? We’re on the cusp of anarchy. All the people you might reach are in favor to impeach the president, undocumented residents, in an unprecedented age devoid of decorum a la Jerry Springer. It’s okay to shout when they speak and give them all the finger.

 

24-hour news propaganda that overloads the subliminal. At a minimal it looks like a mushroom cloud that covers the sun. Nowhere near where we once begun. Where do we begin?

July 10, 2019

Catfish… Yum Or She’s Perfect on Paper

Jake had friends that had met women from other countries on line and it really worked out well for them. There was Chuck who corresponded with a Thai woman working in Cairo at a hotel. Chuck back around the time Morsi was deposed by the military in Egypt, went to collect the love of his life and bring her back to his two-bedroom palace in Detroit. It didn’t matter that for six months his wife needed her phone to correspond with Chuck. A whole lot less fighting.

Paul went to Bogotá in Columbia and found a beauty of a woman who liked to cook and liked to clean and do whatever Paul was in the mood to do. Being twenty years his junior was a strong plus.

 

Jake decided to try his hand. Jake met Ann on a dating site for intelligent people. Jake was so intelligent that he never stopped to think that maybe corresponding with strangers in Dubai, might not be… intelligent.

 

Ann- Hey, my name is Ann. I saw your profile and you look totally for what I’m looking for in a man.

 

Jake saw a tall, thin, woman with a beautiful face and was hooked like a fish.

 

Jake- My name is Jake… I live in Milwaukee. Where are you?

 

Ann- I am the daughter of a Basque fisherman who lived in Belgium. I grew up speaking Basque, French, Flemish and German. My Amona, that is Basque for grandma, would have me all summer in San Sebastian. What about you?

 

Jake- We went to Door County a lot. It’s in northern Wisconsin. Your English is really good.

 

Ann- Merci

 

Jake stood at the computer waiting for Ann to say something and then after a few hours, she gave her telephone number but claimed in didn’t work in Dubai. They kept corresponding via the site. Jake had a few drinks one night and received a picture of Ann in a bathing suit and was out of his mind with desire. Ann would write to Jake often and then not for a while. Jake would stare at the screen like a dog watching a door for their master to return. After weeks, things seemed to be heading in a positive direction and the desire to meet Ann grew so strong that Jake was consumed all day long with thoughts of being with her. It was like those men you hear about in jail that receive letters from women on the outside. Those men are willing to break out of jail just to meet those special women. Jake was of the same mindset.

 

Jake- Listen I have free time and have always wanted to come to Dubai. I have a passport and I think you and I have something special between us. I dream of you with my eyes awake.

 

Ann- Oh my god! I totally feel the same way. I want to serve you breakfast in bed and massage you. I want to come to the states and eat at Outback with you.

 

Jake- Outback?! Um… I don’t go there ever. Have you been there?

 

Ann- Well we can go somewhere else too. Hey, I don’t want to spring this on you but if you do come, would you mind terribly taking care of something for me?

 

Jake- What’s that?

 

Ann- I have some money that I left in an account in Kenya that I cannot leave the country to get it. Would you mind terribly making a stop for me? I will tell you which bank to go to and they will give you the money we need to start a new life together. I cannot wait to leave Dubai and begin our new life in Milwaukee. I want to eat sausages, eat cheese and drink beer. When you get here, I am going to make love to you until you beg me to stop. I cannot wait to feel your hands all over my body. We will be one and it will be the greatest experience of our lives. Hurry my love.

 

Jake would have gone to the moon for her and just about did. He hopped on a flight to Nairobi. Upon landing, he grabbed the first cab he could find. He woke up hours later with his hands tied behind his back. Across the room were two men watching a soccer match on a small television, both were smoking. Jake asked what was going on. A large man with braids and a large gap between his front teeth stood and rubbed his belly.

“I am more attractive in a bathing suit… Let’s talk about getting some money.”

Love is often not what it appears to be and that is sad when you think about it.

July 3, 2019

The 4th Of July

 

Nike might be likely to incite thee.

Kaepernick the flag in the nick of time to celebrate independence. Mike Pence, polls twice a day and the electorate is on the fence. Toxic hate of illegal residents and on the other side against the president. I’ll take the fifth on the forth.

 

It’s legal now- take hit. Mellow out- that’s it. Drink, gamble and smoke. Now here’s the real joke- that skunky shit ain’t your granddaddy’s dope. You can deny the gateway as they search for the right way to balance the books and pay for it all. Want a preview? Here’s a clue of what they’d do for you- those that stood for the debate weren’t even second rate in the eyes that watched and glazed over.

 

Meanwhile over at the DMZ, Little Kim for a photo op, hoping a handshake might stop radiation over South Korea and Japan. Sweat trickles down my back, Iranian uranium is back on track. The time draws closer. It’s too hot, it’s too wet and maybe there is a problem at the border. Those poor people drinking water from a commode, while the nation angrily might implode like it did once back with Lincoln. It all just leaves me thinking. There will be a military review that’s not meant for you this 4th of July. A show of strength with troops and tanks like Red Square on May Day… May day… May day. We going down…

June 21, 2019

Game Face

Filed under: divorce,poem,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:27 am
Tags: , , , , ,

I got a secret. Maybe you can see it in my eyes

I can’t you let you know there’s nobody on the other side of that wall. Ask me how she is and how’s it going. Can you see it in my eyes that it’s gone? Doing this crazy thing alone. Fool them when they ask. Make them think it’s like it should be. The way it is everywhere they go. Are you alone? What do you mean exactly. Sorry, no not at all. She’s beyond that wall and the kids are upstairs where you remembered them when they were young. How are you? How is it going? I’m not offended even though you don’t care. I look at you and know I can take the pain a lot longer than you. I’m stronger than you and can tighten up in the face of pain knowing that it won’t last forever. Somewhere over there where the sun tries to hide. Never bring down the flag. It’s a matter of pride. “Give my best to the kids and bride…” I’m on the island and I do not see a ship at sea. You’re out there too maybe a bit like me.

June 19, 2019

Going Against the Grain

Marsha wept as she rhetorically asked John where they went wrong with their son Gore. Gore seems like a crazy Goth name to give to their son at the time but actually he was named after Al Gore. Around the time of the 2000 elections, Marsha stopped dressing like Siouxie from Siouxie and the Banchees. She made John start dressing like a man who could make money instead of a over grown kid in ripped jeans and offensive Punk shirts from their high school days.

 

Marsha was a stay at home mom and the head of the PTO while John became a realtor. They had a swell home and every five years, they bought one that was even bigger and more expensive. They raised Gore to respect people of all colors and to not make fun of fat children or over the top effeminate men, not torture small animals ect… Marsha was way ahead of her time back in the early 2000’s. She explained that we are all equal in god’s eyes even though Marsha decided that there was no god. Marsha was raised Catholic but rebelled in high school. It was about the time she wore Doc Marten boots with her Catholic school skirt, died her hair jet-black and wore black lipstick. John met Marsha at a Black Flag show and fell madly in love with her. They had so much in common. They hated their parents, society, Ronald Reagan, Michael Jackson and Madonna. They were against anything that their post World War II parents were for but over time like most Americans- they had to get on board, become a cog in the wheel of the dynamo that is these United States.

Gore was against everything that his parents were for too. John and Marsha were Chicago Cubs fans and Gore liked the White Sox. John and Marsha liked their Punk Music from the 1980’s and Gore liked Country. John and Marsha got paunchy and sedentary and Gore ate healthy as a teenager and lifted weights until he was the biggest and strongest guy in the school. Gore wrestled, played football and ice hockey. John and Marsh had been anti-jock back in the day.

Gore had a graduation party with friends that were going off to the military or college. They hunted and owned rifles. They drove American cars and trucks. They all seemed more at home in Nebraska than suburban Chicago. Gore took off his shirt before jumping in the family pool. On his back was a tattoo the length of his back that had Donald Trump making the “OK” sign with a circle between the thumb and index finger. Trump is wearing a suit with a red tie and is winking. It read- Donald Trump 45th president of the United States of America. Made America great again.

 

Marsha was horrified. Her girlfriends from something called the “Fight Club”, a group of moms angry about the election and their husbands were in attendance. The members of the fight club sat drinking wine and eating chips with dip. They had been talking about mundane things until they could not help noticing Gore looking like an underwear model with his shirt off. He was a like a Greek statue with a six pack, strong arms and chest. What was tattooed to his back sent them heading for the exit. The moms protested the president by wearing cat hats downtown. They had lawn signs that said things like love is love and no human is illegal and science is real. There was no way they were staying any longer at the party.  Marsha was horrified and filled with anxiety of what might happen next.

Sitting in a lawn chair with a Fedora hat on, holding a beer was an old man. It was the father of Martha. The moms all left close to suddenly and said nothing to Martha other than they needed to go. Martha worried that one of them might go on an open forum of suburban moms and let everyone know that her son was a pariah, a xenophobe, homophobe, misogynistic racist, a Trump loving… Republican. Marsha was tearing eyed as boys and girls jumped into the pool listening to hillbilly music. Her father laughed. She turned to him and asked what possibly could be funny.

“Oh I was just thinking about when you brought John over for Christmas dinner way back when. He had a safety pin through his face and his Mohawk was orange. He wore a t shirt with cut off sleeves… I’ll never forget that shirt. It said Killing Joke and underneath it was the pope on a German military truck being given a Nazi salute by German soldiers on both sides. My mom, being a woman who never missed mass, cried for a month when John Kennedy was killed. She got up and left. She couldn’t believe that I let you date that guy. She told me that I had to stop you. How likely was that? Well you married him.”

“And what is so funny to you exactly? That my friends are going to make me wear a scarlet letter by posting shit on the internet?”

“Come now… You can’t control your kids entirely. They go against the grain… I think you should get a tattoo of Bernie Sanders shrugging his shoulders with the caption- What Hath God Wrought.”

Next Page »

Blog at WordPress.com.