“Hey, Biff,” said the fox. “Wake up!
“Wake up, Biff!” said the fox.
“WAKE UP!” said the fox.
“Hey, fox,” I said.
“Uh..um…wha?” said the fox.
“You were dreaming.” I said. “Telling me to wake up.”
“Oh…yeah,” said the fox. “Too much eggnog. Where’s the worry stone?”
“Taking a shower,” I said. “For a year.”
“Was I really that gross?” said the fox.
“New record,” I said.
“So, Biff,” said the fox. “Where to now?”
“Under the surface,” I said. “Remember the garbage heap?”
No way was I going back to the garbage. I could still smell it steaming and splintering in my soul. But I didn’t have to go back. I had to get to the source of the garbage…the source.
“And what would that be?” said the fox.
“Well, fox,” I said. “I was just about to know that when some furry animal interrupted my thought train.”
“Sorry to be such a burden, Biff,” said the fox. “But maybe you should just try thinking a little harder. Like you do in coffee shops.”
So the fox did it again. Something in the fox said.
“You mean, I actually…” the fox tried to say.
“Are you sure…are you really really sure you shouldn’t be hibernating?” I said.
“Biff…” said the fox.
And suddenly I had a thought.
“Shh..” I said.
“Biff,” said the fox, “don’t you ever shh me again. I really hate that.”
“Fox…be still…I have a thought,” I said.
“It better be…” the fox tried to say.
“Why don’t you go and apologize to the worry stone?” I said.
(NOTE: Notice how many times I say “I said” and “the fox said” and, my favorite “the fox tried to say”? I tell my writing students not to do this shit…but it just seems so appropriate in this place. Know what I mean?)
“It was that gross?” the fox said.
“It was sad country music played backwards with large women and men wearing jeans far to low from the beginning of the crack as they danced on the heads of screaming hippies. Reminded me of my past,” I said. “Go. Go and apologize to the worry stone.”
Damn. Writing at home without a coffee shop around me is so weird. But that’s OK. Saw something of FB that made me chuckle today. A picture of Christ who, apparently, just wanted to go out and party, but everything was closed for his birthday. Hey, God…stop tormenting this guy. He is actually cooler than you. Yeah, you know what I mean…Old Testament. Ever read it? I mean…you turned people into salt. WTF? But…hey…I went to church last night with a friend and saw the other stuff you can do. Focus a little more on that part.
Oops…wine bottle’s empty. One eggnog left. Need sleep.
“Hey, God,” I said. “Ease up on him. Ease up on us. We’re only what you’ve made us. Tomorrow, I’ll let you know what we’ve made of ourselves. Not pretty.”
“BTW…God…I sang last night,” I said.
“YOU SANG!” said God. “In one of my churches?”
“Yeah…and it felt good.”
(To be continued…maybe forever)
“The worry stone told me to fuck off,” said the fox.
“Wanna watch some Fight Club while I finish that last eggnog?” I said.
“Yeah…what the hell,” said the fox.
“Language?” I said.
“Yeah…look who’s talking,” said the fox.