Sheila is frustrated because she cannot draw hands. They always come out looking like sneezes. Tomorrow she abandons a life of art and embraces the family trade: Competitive Sitting. Like her uncles before her, Sheila will travel from county to county, from parking lot landscaping trench to parking lot landscaping trench and take all comers in timed Sit Offs. Soon she will master the half-sit and the bottom sit. In Arizona she will demonstrate a superior ability to Scowl Sit in high temperatures. All across this great land of ours, Sheila will plant herself on rock, on pillow, on broken box and not move for hours. Sheila will give everything over to sitting. She'll commission special pants with double reinforcement. To sit will be like breathing unto her. A chance trip up to Nova...
Low Rent Mickey Mouse costume. Not licensed. Standing out front of local oil change joint. Waving. Headpiece pointing down. Legs a bit too thin. Possibly wearing sweat pants from home. Holding heavily faded, almost blank, poster board sign. Reads: “Super Deals something something Wyoming!” Leaning against Right Turn Lane sign. Wants a cigarette but can't fit it under the mask. Been chewing on the interior vinyl flange for hours. Went to Tubby's for lunch. Ate two packs of Fried Mushrooms, a chocolate chip cookie and a Sprite. Has copy of Farmer's Daughter waiting at home. Thinking about taking a parachuting class. Eventually eaten by a shark.
A unique garbage night in the neighborhood tonight. Nearly every house has encyclopedias piled out front. The city has an amnesty program underway. Everybody's got a two week window. No guilt.
So out they go. Books, magazines, calculator manuals. And people are eager to comply. They're sick of feeling uncomfortable. Sick of reinforcing shelves. Sick of cross referencing.
One house had a waist high pile of bibles in the curb cut. I noted the house number and made a call to homeland security.
When the inspections resume next month there won't be any problems here. None. I still recommend keeping a spare electric blanket ready, so the team leaves happy.
He spent the better part of his day working jigsaw puzzles. Told the neighbor kids he was Spanish. And that they should stay off his deck or risk suffering a curse that turned their dreams black and white the rest of their lives. He could do it too, he assured them. He could turn any one of them into a duck with a few filthy words. He could bury them alive in the front yard if he wanted to and get away with it as he had an agreement with the magistrate. His hair was black and his mustache two right triangles. He wore a short cape which the kids called his dress and roared disapproval when they showed him drawings they had made of his house. He didn't care for the way they drew animals with sympathy and, he noted, they had wrongly depicted him in a helicopter. Took him the better part...
The word made real. I've begun photographing the Gummi bears. Individually. Right before I eat them. I tell them it's for my Meal Tumblr. It's not. I don't have a Meal Tumblr. I have a washing-in-the-yard-with-the-hose Tumblr. I have to tell them something. The Gummi bears. I don't want them thinking their sacrifice is in vain. They mustn't get the idea they were created to die. I used to tell them I was photographing them for prom. But then they asked why they weren't photographed in couples and I had to come up with another lie to justify my perversions. I told them I had fallen down the stairs as a boy and that's why I had to wear this brace. Then they'd say they didn't ask about my brace and why I don't wash it and I'd panic and have to...
