Blackhumouristpress's Blog

January 18, 2010

A Day in the Life of an American Part 1

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 7:51 am
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Trent Kelly was one the fortunate Americans who had a job and for that he was truly thankful.  As a leasing agent for apartment buildings within and around the city of Chicago, he met people everyday that did not qualify to rent an apartment due to poor credit or no job.  They were all less fortunate.

12:38am Friday- Trent returned from playing four games of pick up basketball with young men from a Romanian Christian church who were roughly half his age.  Trent sat and watched the Cleveland Cavalier/Utah Jazz game that he recorded prior to leaving home as he ate roast beef with Munster cheese that had been microwaved.  No bread with the cold cuts and cheese.  Trent slams in a handful of blueberries and a small stalk of broccoli.  He remembers that they fight cancer and have antioxidants.  Trent doesn’t remember what an antioxidant is exactly.  He knows that it fights oxidants with vigor and it makes him feel healthier to know that there are less oxidants within him as a result.

            As Trent tries to decide whether he should have a glass of red wine with his sleep medicine, he watches Shaquille O’Neil miss two free throws and wonders how a man plays the game of basketball for so many years and is still unable to shoot over 50% from the foul line.  He wonders how the man does not take the whole summer in his palace overlooking the smog and over population of Los Angeles from his mountain side home and shoot free throws over and over until the rhythm is secondary just as putting on a panel on a Ford Taurus would be to some poor slob on an assembly line making a great American vehicle in Windsor, Ontario.  It’s a panel that gets put on the right front, just like the last one and ten thousand others before it and after it.  Ten thousand free throws per summer and one is bound to shoot at least 50%.  Lack of rhythm must be the key.

            A television time out it became time to decide whether to have a healthy poor of Fat Bastard Merlot and wash that down with sleep agent that has Diphenhydramine HCI.  Just 25 little milligrams to help with sleeplessness.  Insomnia is a pervasive problem for Trent.  He goes to the bathroom and urinates and looks at his own face in the mirror while relieving himself.  He has dark rings under his eyes like a raccoon and a hint of crow’s feet around the eyes.  Trent thinks to himself that he probably doesn’t appear to be forty yet or at least what he perceived forty to appear like when he was twenty.  His hair is salt and pepper and for the mean time, it’s more pepper than salt.  His head is shaved due to the fact that it is thinning in spots.  Every week without fail, he visits a Ukrainian woman who was raised in the former Soviet empire and only learned to speak Russian.  She tells Trent as he fights sleep in the barber chair, that the current president of Ukraine is a piece of shit and hopes the man who lost in 2004, wins this time.  Trent only faintly listens as he tries not to breathe the breath of the Ukrainian woman who smokes a pack of Marlboro Cigarettes a day.  Trent didn’t realize that the Ukrainians had their own language and that their language was in fact not Russian.  Trent is not thinking about the president of Ukraine or his adversary or the cigarette breath of his female barber from a former Soviet region as he takes the Minoxidil and rubs it on his scalp as he has for years.  He has Minoxidil for his hair and Nair for his back with a spatchula to help reach those troubled areas of his back.

            The phone rings at a little after one in the morning right after Trent swallowed a little pill to help him sleep with a healthy poor of Fat Bastard Merlot.  Trent thinks about the temp girl who answered the phones at the office and how she was not supposed to give out his cell number to tenants but was supposed to give out his email so that he could receive emails instead of calls.  The phone played Richard Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries as loud as could be.  The phone was in the bathroom next to the bedroom where his infant daughter slept.  The same song that played in Apocalypse Now when Robert Duval attacked by helicopter, the civilians on the Vietnamese beach, stunned his relatively new born daughter from her slumber.  While a fragile tenant cried about feces coming up from her toilet and the need for immediate action, Trent’s new daughter went off like a siren.  Trent’s sleepy wife staggered past Trent who was on his cell phone after one in the morning to attend to their child who was woken by a phone replication of a Richard Wagner song.  Trent’s wife didn’t care who it was that he was talking to as much as she cared that he was talking with his day time voice in the middle of the night.

            “I hope you’re saving lives tonight.  There are people in Haiti that are dying.  I sincerely hope nobody is dying,” said Trent’s wife, as she changed the diaper of their screaming new born who was fighting the diaper change with both arms and both legs.

            Trent added two scoops of Similac to four ounces of water and handed it to his sleepy wife who was sitting in a rocking chair, waiting for the liquid meal for their new arrival.  Trent tried to assure the woman that he would get a plumber the first thing in the morning. 

2:10am Friday- the Utah Jazz with roughly five minutes to go, had an eleven point lead on Cleveland.  Trent watched James Lebron undress the entire Jazz squad in a little more than three minutes as an email was coming in.  This is what the subject said;



            Now the tenant who wrote this was a stay at home father of twenty nine years of age with 18% body fat and a 3 and ¾ inch penis.  This tenant loves Xbox and comic books and saw Avatar five times.  His wife paid for the tickets each time as well as the popcorn with extra butter and the economy sized cola.  Trent got to play god with this particular asshole.  Trent pretended to be sleeping and would respond to the urgent message until after noon time later that day.

            Now one of the best finishes to a basketball game took place with five seconds to go in the game.  Like a good Disney finish, the Utah Jazz inbound the ball and got it to a man with the last name of Gaines who had been playing minor league basketball in Boise just days before.  In front of a sell out crowd, he hit a three pointer at the buzzer and solidified his chances of sticking in the NBA.  Another email came in.

            “Trent honey, its mommy.  I have decided to come and visit you, your beautiful wife and darling new addition.  I read my horoscope and had a dream about dying early and decided that since I have the time, I will be coming with my husband Bob to spend the week with you.  Life is short and you never know what could happen.  I’m going to need a car and hope that we will not be crowding you if we stay at your place… Hugs and kisses.”

            That single email kept Trent from sleep more so than anything else that could possibly happen.  Even with a sleeping aid and red wine, sleep would be postponed for the night pending the arrival of Trent’s mother from Vermont.

            Now Trent was born and raised in Los Angeles by a single mom who happened to be a hippy.  Trent’s mother was on her sixth husband.  This latest step father was three years younger than Trent, a former Marine and an alcoholic.  Trent got on line and found a motel called the Ambassador on Lincoln Avenue on the north side of Chicago and an independent car rental company that rented Smart Cars for his mother.

5:02 am Friday- Trent stops at a Starbucks.  An effeminate young man with skin tight jeans and two earrings on his lips asks Trent what he would like to drink in a southern belle lilt.  Trent for a moment remembered when being overtly effeminate was as dangerous as being overtly communist and wondered if communism and homophobia died simultaneously.

            Trent bench presses first at the gym.  Four sets of 235 then leg lifts push ups, pull ups and then curls.  Trent’s heart pounds as he takes a hot shower.  Next to him are two old Jewish men that small talk.  Trent listens in.

            “Mortie…  You’re late.  It’s one of the seven deadly sins isn’t it?”

            “What, what… Not getting my tired old ass out of bed and to the gym and for what?  I’ll still look like a wrinkled prune with ball sacks hanging down to my fucking knees…”

            That made Trent smile as he stood naked in front of the mirror, putting lotion all over his body.  Trent could see some muscle tone and a hint of a six pack on his abdomen.  He dreaded getting as old as the old Jews but knew with each day, the time was coming.

8:45am Friday- Trent picked up a yellow Smart Car from O’Hare airport and drove to Midway Airport on the other side of Chicago to greet his mother.  The Smart Car shook as it went 62.5 miles per hour on the Stevenson Expressway.  The news from Haiti was dismal.  The Blackhawks won and the weather would be sunny and above freezing for the fourth day in a row. 

            A Chicago Police officer in a bright yellow raincoat came up and yelled at Trent for pulling up in the fire lane to pick up his mother and her husband.

            “You leave that car for a second and I’ll have it towed…” said the cop.

            “I’m picking up those two people there,” Trent said, combatively.

            “And I’m telling you if you leave the car, it will be towed.”

            Trent had no way of knowing that the middle aged angry officer, had been sent to Midway to keep scofflaws and terrorists from double parking their cars because he had been caught grocery shopping and sleeping in his car by a news television station that was trying to point out just how lazy some police officers were and their abuse of power.  The cop hated standing out in the cold, telling people to move their cars all day.  Do you blame him? 


Trent, his mother and step father, were eating at Brandy’s Family Restaurant on Cicero and 52nd Street.  The waitress looked a lot like WC Fields, red nose and all.  Everyone except the girl who rang people up and sat them, were morbidly obese.  Trent didn’t know exactly what to say to his mother and stepfather who he did not like.  He mentioned the fat people.

            “2/3 of Americans are obese now and 90% of them are in this room,” said Trent, while stirring his coffee.  Trent’s latently homosexual step father, who was three years younger than him, starred at Trent blankly.  Nothing was said by either Trent’s mother or the Marine.

            “Musta been a pain in the ass to get to Albany, New York with all that snow in Vermont.  Did you make it to the airport okay?” said Trent, searchingly looking for something to discuss.

            “Well I love to hunt and ski…  Chop down wood and just enjoy god’s green earth,” said Bob, in a manly and quite husky voice.

            Trent didn’t understand the answer to his question from Bob and did not press him for an answer that made sense.  Trent listened to Bob claims of being the outdoors man and couldn’t help thinking about the $1,000.00 phone bill he had to pay for his mother due to the fact that Bob rang up a doozy by calling1- 900 gay phone sex numbers while on a drinking binge.  Bob had no idea that Trent knew.  Trent told his mother that before he would help out with the outrageous phone bill, he had to know first what kind of 1- 900 Bob was calling.  Trent called one of the numbers and heard this recording:

            “You’ve reached The Man line…  Lot’s of interesting men are waiting to talk to men just like you.  Your seconds away from joining the fastest growing network where men meet men…  Just like you…”

            11:00 am- A mandatory meeting was called for all employees of the real estate office where Trent worked.  A bald man who looked like Dr. Phil with eyebrows that looked like gerbils, stood with his arms folded at the front of the room behind a podium.  The owner of the company came in late and the murmur that had filled the room immediately ceased.  The boss started the meeting with a red face and trembling hands.  He was so angry that he literally shook.

            “I called this meeting to put you all on notice.  Someone stole a gift from my desk while I was on vacation and yet nobody knows where it is.  Among us is a thief…  Secondly, I brought my eight year old son in the office and allowed him to look up Nick on Line from the front desk computer and come to find out that someone here was looking at a website called Goats and Blondes.  MY SON BELIEVES IN SANTA CLAUS STILL AND KNOWS ABOUT SEX WITH FUCKING FARM ANIMALS!  I had to learn this from my wife as she learned this while reading him Dr. Fucking Seuss before bed.  You are all being put on notice.  I have hired Mr. Dupuis to monitor everything that goes on in this place from here on out.  This bullshit ends today.  Mr. Dupuis… The floor is yours.”

            The boss received a gift certificate from his girlfriend at work while he happened to be away with his family over the Christmas holiday.  He received a text message from his girlfriend who had purchased a gift certificate to the Love Palace.  The Love Palace was frequented by couples looking for intimacy and fun.  The suite chosen by the girlfriend had a pool with a slide and a trapeze where she could lower herself onto her boyfriend.  The text message read as follows:


            Upon returning, the boss panicked over the prospect of anyone seeing the card from his girlfriend.  He of course he yelled at his girlfriend for leaving the envelope on his desk instead of giving it to him.  Whoever stole it knew that it was safe to steal since; the boss could not divulge the contents.  The same person who stole the card also was looking at bestiality on line too.  I can’t say who it was.  It just wouldn’t be right for me to get involved in this.

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