This next story is actually an essay that I wrote during a time of writer's block. It deals with writer's block. To preserve the flavor of the essay, it is presented as it was originally written in all caps. It's pretty nonsensical, but you may enjoy it.
AS I SIT (OR IS IT SET. I CAN'T REMEMBER FOR SURE.) AT THIS TYPEWRITER TYPEWRITING AWAY I JUST CANNOT THINK OF ANY STORIES TO WRITE. I CANNOT THINK OF ANY STORIES TO WRITE EITHER. SO NOW I HAVE BEEN FORCED TO SIT (SET) HERE AND RAMBLE AWAY AND BORE EVERYBODY TO DEATH. NOT ONLY THAT BUT YOU ALSO WOULDN'T BELIEVE HOW MANY TYPEING EARRERS I AM MAKING. SEE WHAT I MEAN? ONLY NOW I HAVE DECIDED NOT TO CORREDCT THEM. SO THERE. FOR THE FEW PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL READING THIS WORTHLESS PIECE OF GARBAGE MOST SUITABLE FOR WRAPPING FISH I WOULD LIKE TO SAY HOWWWDDDY, SO I WILL SAY IT NOW. I DIDN'T SAY I WOULD TYPE IT. I SAID I WOULD SAY IT. AND I DID.
SINCE I'M RAMBLIN' AWAY AND NOT TALKIN' ABOUT STUFF I MAY. SCRATCH THAT LAST SENTENCE. START AGAIN. SINCE I'M RAMBLIN' AWAY AND NOT WRITING A STORY I MAY AS WELL TALK ABOUT NESA (WRONG) NEAT STUFF. I THINK NOW THAT I HAVE TALKED ABOUT ALL THAT NEAT STUFF I'LL JUST GO RIGHT AHEAD AND TYPE IT UP.
IN ALL THE WORLD THERE IS NOTHING FUNNIER TO READ THAN A DIRTY BOOK. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU HAVE DROPPED IT IN A MUD PUDDLE. (HA-HA HUH)
SERIOUSLY THOUGH, ISN'T IT FUNNY HOW SOME PEOPLE CAN GET ALL EXCITED BY READING WORDS LIKE UUUUNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHH, AAAAAAAAAAHHHH, OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH, AND NNNNNNNGGGGHHHH. I ALWAYS LOOK AT IT LIKE IT MUST BE A TYPEWRITING ERROR. YOU KNOW, MAYBE THE KEYS GOT STUCK OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. OH WELL. THEY SAY WHATEVER TURNS YOU ON. NOW ME. I LIKE TO READ BOOKS LIKE BED, SLEEP, REST, NAP, HOLIDAY, AND WEEKEND IN THEM. MY FAVORITE WORD IS (ARE YOU READY FOR THIS ONE) VAAAACCAAAATTTIIIOOONNNNN!!!!!
NOW YOU MUST ADMIT. DOESN'T EVERYONE LOVE TAKING A NICE LONG VACATION? I KNOW I DO. BUT NOW THAT I TYPE OF IT, I WILL BE DOGGED IF I KNOW WHY. WHAT I AM ABOUT TO TYPE YOU IS ONE OF MY DEEP DARK SECRETS. WHENEVER I TAKE A VACATION, THE TRUE AND HONEST ME COMES FORTH. TOTAL KLUTZ. KNOWING ME AS WELL AS YOU DO I KNOW YOU FIND THAT HARD TO BELIEVE. BUT TAKE MY WORD FOR IT. IT'S ABSOLUTELY TRUE.
TAKE FOR EXAMPLE THE LAST TIME I WENT ON VACATION. IT WAS IN MARCH BEFORE I REPORTED ABOARD THIS SHIP, THE USS ORION (AS-18). (HECK OF A WAY TO END A VACATION, HUH?) I HAD JUST FINISHED WITH ET SCGI (FINGERS WERE IN THE WRONG PLACE) SCHOOL AND I NOW HAD FIFTEEN GLORIOUS DAYS (SIXTEEN IF YOU COUNT MY ONE DAY OF TRAVEL TIME) IN BEAUTIFUL OHIO.
I FLEW EITHER DELTA OR AMERICAN AIRLINES FROM O'HARE IN CHICAGO TO CINCINATTI (WRONG) CINCINNATI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, WHICH, BY THE WAY, IS LOCATED ACROSS THE OHIO RIVER IN KENTUCKY. I WENT TO THE BAGGAGE AREA TO PICK UP MY SUITCASE. HALFWAY TO CINCINNATI WE HAD TO TURN AROUND AFTER I OPENED MY SUITCASE TO PULL OUT MY GRADUATION PICTURE AND REMOVED A SIZE 34-C, PADDED. MY SUITCASE WAS STILL THERE.
NOBODY EVER GOT TO SEE MY GRADUATION PICTURE. I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE PUT MY CAN OF SHAVING CREAM IN MY SUITCASE. OH WELL. YOU CAN REST ASSURED MY CLOTHES DIDN'T HAVE A WHISKER ON THEM.
I DON'T LIVE IN CINCINNATI. CINCINNATI IS 120 MILES FROM MY HOMETOWN OF PORTSMOUTH, OHIO. I COULD FLY TO HUNTINGTON AIRPORT WHICH IS ONLY 60 MILES FROM MY HOUSE. BUT HOLY SMOKES, THAT TAKES ALMOST TEN MINUTES LONGER TO FLY THERE.
AFTER THE THREE HOUR DRIVE TO PORTSMOUTH I WATCHED A LITTLE TELEVISION, DROPPED A BEER ON MYSELF, SLIPPED IN THE SHOWER, AND FELL INTO MY BED, WHICH COLLAPSED UNDER ME.
AFTER FALLING OUT OF BED IN THE MORNING I DECIDED TO GET UP. I PUT ON MY PANTS AND SHIRT FIRST. I THEN BENT OVER TO PICK UP MY SHOES AND SOCKS. AFTER CHANGING PANTS AND GIVING THE RIPPED ONES TO MOM TO SEW, I FINALLY GOT MY SHOES ON. IMMEDIATELY, I REMOVED MY SHOES AND PUT THEM ON THE RIGHT FEET.
I SAT DOWN AT THE KITCHEN TABLE TO HAVE A CUP OF COFFEE I TALKED WITH MOM ABOUT COLD GREAT LAKES, ILLINOIS AND ABOUT WHERE I WAS GOING. I DIDN'T FINISH MY COFFEE. MOM'S SALT SHAKER HAD BEEN BROKEN AND THE SALT WAS SITTING IN A BOWL NEXT TO THE BOWL OF SUGAR. NEED I SAY MORE?
I WENT INTO THE BATHROOM TO SHAVE, COMB MY HAIR, AND PUT ON SOME DEODORANT. I HADN'T PLANNED ON TAKING A SHOWER BUT DECIDED TO AFTER I PICKED UP THE HAIR SPRAY INSTEAD OF THE RIGHT GUARD. BUT YOU KNOW, ONCE YOU THINK ABOUT IT, RIGHT GUARD IS SORT OF A HAIR SPRAY.
I TOLD MOM I WOULD SEE HER LATER, BORROWED HER CAR KEYS, (I WRECKED MY CAR LAST TIME I WAS HOME) AND WAS OFF TO TOWN. WE ACTUALLY LIVED TWELVE MILES FROM PORTSMOUTH IN A LITTLE CITY CALLED LUCASVILLE.
I FINALLY MADE IT TO PORTSMOUTH AROUND !!#) (IF YOU ARE WONDERING WHAT TIME THAT IS, LOOK AT A TYPEWRITER.
FOR THE NEXT TWO HOURS I DROVE AROUND TOWN GOING FROM HOUSE TO HOUSE TO VISIT OLD FRIENDS FROM HIGH SCHOOL. WHAT A DRAG. EVERYONE I KNEW HAD EITHER MOVED, JOINED THE SERVICE LIKE MYSELF, OR WERE AWAY AT COLLEGE. AFTER A WHILE I WAS GETTING DESPERATE. I ENDED UP SPENDING THE DAY TALKING TO TEACHERS FROM HIGH SCHOOL. (THRILLS)
AFTER WHAT HAD TURNED OUT AS A DISASTROUS, TERRIBLE BORING, BLECH DAY, I WAS DETERMINED TO MAKE THE MOST OF THE NIGHT. NOW I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WOULD ALL MAKING THE MOST OF A NIGHT BUT I KNOW IN MY OPINION IT WAS NOWHERE NEAR THAT. WHEN I GOT HOME I FOUND OUT THAT MY MOM HAD INVITED ALL OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS OUT TO THE HOUSE FOR SUPPER THAT NIGHT. (DRAG)
THAT'S ABOUT HOW IT WENT FOR THE NEXT FOURTEEN DAYS. YOU MIGHT THINK IT WAS A RELIEF TO BE LEAVING. WELL, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN. BUT LIKE I SAID, I HAD ONE DAY TRAVEL TIME. THAT WAS THE DAY FY OLD GIRLFRIEND FROM HIGH SCHOOL CAME BACK FROM VISITING HER GRANDMA IN COLUMBUS, OHIO. I WOULD TYPE ABOUT THAT, BUT LIKE I SAID ON PAGE STO (WRONG AGAIN) ONE, READING THOSE STORIES DON'T TURN ME ON. NO MORE RAMBLIN' TODAY.
When I originally wrote this story I called it an offbeat love story. Whether you agree or not will definitely depend on how twisted you are.
"He's in room 114 and look lady, don't tell him I told you." The attendant behind the desk sat back down in his old wooden chair and picked up his comic book, paying no more attention to the lady that had interrupted him.
She walked down the dimly lit hallway, passing what seemed like endless miles of doors, many silent, and some with their televisions on. There were a few doors where she could hear the sound of bouncing bed springs and the grunts of some middle-aged man getting his rocks off with some two-bit whore.
Room 114 was near the end of the hall, next to the vending and ice machines. She knocked on the door. No answer. Another knock. Still nothing. She called out to him. "Dan, are you there?" There was no reply. Maybe, she thought, he was asleep and hadn't heard.
She put her hand to the doorknob and turned it. It was unlocked. She opened the door and stepped inside. There were no lights on in the room, but from the dim hallway light she could see that someone was on the bed.
She reached for the light switch. Hopefully, the light wouldn't startle him. Unlike the hallway, the rooms were well equipped for lighting, allowing her to see it all. Her scream broke the silence of the room before she passed out, overcome by the shock of what she had just seen.
Hearing the scream, the desk clerk tossed his comic book aside, and ran down the hallway to see what had happened. Before he arrived, the other people from the hotel had already surrounded the door. Some had been sickened by the sight. All of them were horrified by it.
The clerk shoved his way through the crowd. He squeezed past those blocking the entrance, and his eyes fell upon the same gory scene that everyone else had been witness to.
"Oh my God," he whispered. "Jesus Christ!" He turned and asked everyone to leave. The clerk then lifted the woman off of the floor, carried her to the hotel lobby, and rested her on a couch. He then called the police.
Within minutes the police had arrived and the clerk took them to the room. One of the cops, after an initial inspection spoke to the other. "Sure looks like suicide to me. Think so Al?"
Al looked at the figure on the bed. The man lay nude on the center of the blood coated sheets. He must have been dead for many hours, the smell of decomposition already wafting through the thick dense air. An open package of razor blades lay by the dead man's side. What had once been snowy white bed sheets were now drenched a dark, crimson red from the blood that had poured out. He did a thorough job, Al guessed. Deep gashes were carved in both wrists. Perhaps the pain of waiting to die had been too much. Embedded deep in his chest was a long thick knife.
Al finally spoke. "Yeah, I think you're right about this one."
After the crime scene investigators had completed their tasks, the body was given a final examination from the coroner before being tagged and bagged and taken to the morgue. The coroner agreed that it looked like your basic suicide.
Al was preparing to lock the room when something caught his eye. He walked over to the lamp desk and picked up the bible that was there. Several pages of folded paper were inserted in it. He removed them and began to read. It was a suicide note. What caught the homicide detectives attention was the fact that the note didn't match the suicide. He read the entire letter.
Dear Marsha,
I want you to understand why I did it. Baby, you know I ain't so good when it comes to writing letters and I guess my last one won't be so different.
You know how much I love and care for you. Baby, can you ever forgive me for not being able to take care of you?
Now that you left me, I can't say that there's any reason for me to stay around no more. You now have someone else to take care of you and my little girl. I know that man of yours is looking for me. Convince him that the only reason I'm doing this is because I love you and don't want to be in your way no more.
If anyone finds me before I die, don't try to see what I took by looking for the pill bottles. I threw them away and you won't find them. Let me just die in peace. Bye Marsha.
I love you and I will forever.
Dan
Want to know the rest of the story. Come back soon and you can read the shocking end.
Homicide detectives Al Kaupman and Ed Miller were sitting at the kitchen table and were talking about the wrap-up of the case. Al's wife, Kate, brought them more coffee and sat the pot in front of them. She interrupted their conversation and spoke.
"It could have had a romantic ending if that guy hadn't found him and butchered him like that. Did he think the guy was still asleep?"
Ed answered her question. "I suppose so. After he stabbed the guy, he slit his wrists to make it look more like a suicide. After all, how many Americans do you know who commit hari kari? The autopsy showed that the guy died from the knife wound, not the drugs. He was legally still alive when he was stabbed. The coroner found enough pills in his stomach to kill a platoon, but they didn't reach his blood stream yet. He killed a man who would eventually have died anyway."
Kate spoke again. "How did he know the guy was at those apartments?"
"Simple," remarked Al. "He had been following the guy and had slipped right past the desk clerk without even being seen."
That night, as Al and Kate lay in bed, she kissed him on the cheek and spoke to him. "I'm really proud of you, do you know that?"
"Why thank you Kate," he said, wrapping his arms around his wife and kissing her firmly on the lips. To hell with today, he thought. A fire was rushing through him--one he had not felt in what seemed like ages. Al decided to take full advantage of the evening. He kissed her again, this time giving Kate a long, sensual kiss, his hands reaching for the thin panties which had clung to her still shapely figure.
They both reached a thunderous climax that night. The two of them spent long, tender moments just fondling each other; exploring each other like they had never done before, finally exhausting themselves in the late hours of the night, and falling asleep with their arms wrapped around one another.
That same night, Marsha, the ex-wife of Dan, slept alone, softly crying herself to sleep. How could she have been so stupid, leaving Dan for that jerk who now dared to call himself her husband. A man that would probably now spend the rest of his life in prison. She had truly been in love with Dan and realized what a fool she had been for leaving the one person that had truly loved her. Dan had tried his best to provide for her. But he could never hold down a job and she wanted more out of life than the world of poverty Dan could give her. When she became pregnant with their child she knew her only option to give their child a better life was to divorce him.
Her crying eventually subsided and the tears dried as Marsha left her thoughts drift away, her exhaustion finally giving away to sleep. As she slept, she began to dream.
In her dream Marsha saw a figure approaching from a foggy mist, calling to her. As the person approached, she began to recognize the familiar features. It was Dan and he was reaching out for her and beckoning her to come to him.
Marsha ran to him, engaging him with a hug and kiss when she finally came to him. They were together again. That was all that mattered. She would stay with him for an eternity.
It was during the next day at work that Al got the radio call from his precinct chief. Him and Ed were parked at a fast food restaurant having some burgers and fries for their lunch. Ed had left the car to go to the restroom. Ed returned, got back into the car and looked at Al, who looked like he had just seen a ghost.
"Hey Al, what's the problem?" Ed asked. They had been partners for six years and Ed knew there was a definite problem.
"It's about the case from last night," Al finally responded. "Late last night they found that ex-wife of the guy that was murdered. She had stepped right out of her balcony and went over the ledge, killing herself. It must have been too much for her."
"What about their kid?" Ed questioned. "The kid all right?"
"Dead too," Al answered. "Just quit breathing. Coroner says it looks like SIDS."
"Maybe," Ed responded. "Maybe they both died for the sake of love."
Like I said, to see this as a love story, you need to be just a little bit twisted. In our next story, we will bounce once again to comedy. It's a really short, comical piece about a next door neighbor. In fact, the story is called, THE WITCH NEXT DOOR. Come back and visit soon.
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