Sunday, August 30, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Barns is 6-11 years old and eats asparagus like it’s going out of style. He’s a virulent youth and struts like he’s just been to the public swimming pool and barely peed in it. He runs like a toddler on rollerskates and teaches kick-boxing at the local community center. He drives a drop-top Geo Metro and wears a scarf that blows in the wind while he cruises for discarded meat behind New Seasons.
He wears a mood ring that he received from Captain Planet at Universal Studios. He can change the colors at will and can even make a strobe light effect. Once, he pointed it at his potato salad before eating it and was in the bathroom for over three days gripping porcelain while the Wizard hijacked the conversation with his overly exaggerated story about turning two strippers into good citizens by pointing his swizzle stick at them.
He’s not the most well liked person. He once confronted a cheerleader and asked for full access to her pom-poms. She attacked him violently and is spending 8-12 in the United States Penitentiary. Barnes must live his life under the radar. The location of his residence cannot be revealed as requested by the U.S marshals.
After school Barns works in the cafeteria watching over detention for the mentally disabled. Misbehavior warrants a five-minute addition to time served and Barns is a stickler for the rules. At least two nights a week he’s forced to sleep over at the school but relishes the time, using it to make paper claws which he sells to his peers for 5 cents a pop.
He is the leading paper claw distributor in the tri-county area simply because he offers a quality product at bargain basement prices. Barns’ claws bring in people from all over the state, some even come from out of state! His success has spawned a passion for weaponry. He carries a crossbow at all times, along with a satchel of “three ninjas” recipe pepper bombs.
He’s very involved in his studies. He’s fluent in arithmetic and plays the bassoon for the local symphony. He’s on suspension right now because the director caught him eating pretzels in his changing room when he clearly knew that it was the weekly salt boycott amongst the members.
Being hard up for cash he must learn to live with what he’s got. His bassoon, his pride and joy, is used more multiple purposes; doing the dishes, masturbation, tool, bow staff, long monocles etc. He even uses it as a pole vault to traverse from roof to roof in attempts to rid the world of evil. Most nights he sits around a police scanner listening to patrolman make polish jokes.
Friday, August 14, 2009
One day during a particularly un-noteworthy summer when Teen was working as a life-guard for his neighborhood swimming pool, a well known admirer of juvenile flesh wandered to the pool intending to register some new accounts in the spank bank. Teen knew it was he who must rid the pool of this 2 strike felon. As Teen approached, the two locked eyes for the briefest of moments and the man took off. He was soon reprimanded for running when it was clearly too slippery to do so and his pool privileges were suspended for one day. Teen was given a medal for his “heroics” and was granted permission to use the pool during adult swim. He swims with impunity.
He hides gossip magazines beneath his section of bed and reads them aloud to the Wizard when the two occupy the house solely.
Each morning Maple takes the bus to the mall in preparation for his career as a vagrant. He has a leadership roll among the early morning retirees; a mish mash of elderly walkers that use the Mall for its ample light and CinnaBons. Sadly, around noon, the mall is overrun by a more territorial retirement group, and Maple’s crew is forced to relocate to a rival shopping center.
Sandy blond hair, an indented chest and grease burns are the trademark characteristics of this boy. He was a pre-me baby and his father makes him acknowledge it every morning before he’s allowed to have his warmed up, mixed up, chocolate milk.
He met Chet for the first time when they both coincidently wound up at the same Bar and Grill. They sat next to each other and denied the free upgrade from a sixteen ounce Icehouse to a twenty ouncer as an act of prudence. They immediately saw the resemblances in each other’s lats and shared reuniting tears over a Bloomin’ Onion. Chet wiped Sergeant’s mouth after every bite, and would have changed his newfound son’s diapers in an effort to make up lost time, but the changing table was too small.
Sergeant’s misguided attempts to reunite Chet and his mother came to a stand still when he received news that his Mother passed away after a bout of Lactose intolerance. Consumed with rage, Sergeant cursed dairy and sought to even the score. He collected what little money he had and vowed vengeance against all diary products, but specifically cheese. He would learn everything about cheese; taste, texture, what it was thinking, and when the moment was ripe he would strike. He planned to discover the cheeses’ weaknesses to use against them. Each and every goddamn one.
Chet’s senior by roughly 5 years, Sergeant is Chet’s legitimate child. He changed his name from Sergant at age twelve to the augmented E spelling; Sergeant, because he thought it seemed more continental. He enjoys a life of fancy. He ferments his own wine in an old bleach bottle under the kitchen sink and drinks roughly a capful every morning to “aid his movements.” He’s the learned one of the group, always ready with a sharp quip.
He’s a young man (he thinks) scared, tired, and lost in a world of mystery and pantsless dads. Two dads.
He watches in awe of his family’s disregard for decency. “Why does everyone wear pants daddy?” A tear comes to his eye, then turning east, prays to Mecca for forgiveness. Must he, until his final resting day, live in this bizarre reality?