Category: My stories

I went to a movie museum and saw the sled from Citizen Kane.
But didn’t that sled get tossed on the fire in the end?
How can it be here?
The truth is, Orson Wells had three sleds built for Citizen Kane.
One was thrown on the fire, but it didn’t burn right.
So, they tossed the second on the fire.
If that one didn’t burn properly, they’d have burned the third.
But it didn’t. It burned perfectly on camera.
So they still had the third to put in a museum.
Which is on fire.
Head for the exits now!

Remember when you could super-size your McDonalds meal?
Know what you got with it?
You got a slightly bigger sleeve in which the same amount of fries were stuffed, along with extra ketchup and salt packets.
You got a slightly bigger cup with the same amount of soda, but more ice.
The cup was more expensive than the soda or ice.
You got more napkins. Those are cheap, too.
But the sandwich was the same size.
Well, as the other sandwiches they sold at the time.
Over the years, they’ve gotten smaller.
It all fits in the same sized bag.

Sometimes, famous people meet on the set and fall in love.
You watch their performances before and after, you can tell.
The look on their faces, how they stand, how they move.
But it doesn’t last.
Usually, they hit the rocks.
Drinking, drugs, and affairs.
And you can tell that in their performances, too.
The look on their faces, how they stand, how they move.
It’s the ones who last that are the rarity.
Those people, they put up with the drinking, the drugs, and the affairs.
The best actors can fake it better than anyone else.
Such award-winning performances.

They say never bring a knife to a gunfight.
But a gun can run out of bullets. Or jam.
A knife never runs out of bullets. Or jams.
Or makes any noise.
Tikki would dress up in the enemy’s uniform and sneak behind enemy lines.
Then he’d slit the throats of sentries, scouts, and guards.
If he was caught at the scene, he’d scream “He’s getting away, follow me!”
And eventually, when they’d split up to keep searching, he’d be left alone with a soldier.
He’d kill them, too, and run as fast as he could back to his base.

My parents were born in Oak Park.
The famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright started his career in Oak Park.
He designed a few houses and buildings there.
You know Frank Lloyd Wright’s infamous Unity Church?
Well, my grandparents lived in the apartment tower right next to it on Kenilworth Avenue.
When we’d visit, they’d say “We’ll can go look at the Wright houses after dinner.”
They were all walking distance.
But we never did, because it was usually too dark by then.
And we had to go home.
They’d say “We can drive past them.”
Each and every fucking time.

Every day, ships full of immigrants arrived at Ellis Island.
First class passengers got a quick look-over, and then were waved along.
The second-class and third-class passengers had a more thorough exam.
Sent up the long staircase and watched by health wardens for signs of exhaustion and heart problems.
Thirty seconds examination, and then a chalk mark on their clothes indicating their condition.
Waved into another room… a waiting room before boarding a ferry to New York and freedom and their future, or to the hospital to get well enough for the next ship back to where they came from.

I find marathons annoying.
It’s a traveling traffic snarl mafia going from city to city.
They hire staff, round up volunteers, lay out cups of gatorade on tables, put out plastic toilets, surround the track with traffic cones and cops. all to celebrate a guy who ran 26 miles to say “We won” and died.
I can commemorate that by sending an email or making a phone call.
In 2500 years, will they climb buildings to commemorate the victory of the giant ape who escaped his evil captors and grabbed the bimbo, only to get killed by all those biplanes?

I bought an Air Tag and a collar attachment for my cat.
That way, I can scan for my cat when she goes out but doesn’t feel like coming back in.
It’s hard to see a black cat at night.
So, I put the tagged collar on her, and let her go on her merry way.
And when it was time for bed, I scanned for her tag and played the tracking tone and found her rolling in some dirt.
I took her inside and took off her collar.
Because I know where she is… in bed, biting my nose.

Death sits on my nose, the old farmer says. Why ask me about the past? Why ask me about the war?
He was a soldier in the war.
And he killed so many.
Some in battle.
Some after, as they rounded up the surrendered.
Shot them and dropped their bodies in the pit.
Some in their houses. Or their churches.
Taking gold from their pockets.
Selling candlesticks and fabric and books.
And now, he is a farmer.
So many farmers, death sits on their nose.
I board the train, and leave them all to death to take as it will.

Tom Petty died of a drug overdose.
He took a lot of drugs.
Some of them were for depression.
Some were from anxiety.
Some more were for insomnia.
And some more were for pain.
His hip was a mess, and he eventually fractured it.
But instead of getting a hip replacement, he took more drugs.
And he died of an overdose.
His excuse for not getting the hip replacement was because so many people were depending on him for a tour to go on.
But because he died from a drug overdose, no tour happened.
And they felt the pain.