/ fiction

Drunken Santas, birth's gone horribly, conveniently wrong, and fish death. Yep, you've found a great new source for bedtime stories. More to come.

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Location: Sacramento, California, United States

Sea Monkey devotee since childhood.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

My Confession

I'd never masturbated in public prior to that day. I'd never exposed myself. I'm no pervert. There were no restraining orders against me. I'd been arrested once before, it was a misunderstanding, I thought the donuts were free samples. It didn't even go on my record. But now I'm a marked man, right there on the ever popular Megan's Law website, a sexual offender. Sure I have regrets, but mostly about getting caught. I can't regret being with her. It just felt so right. It was love, pure and simple. It was love.

I walked past her every morning on my way to work, as the sun came up. I passed by her every evening as I made my way back to my apartment. Her smile warmed me on those rare days when I felt down and frustrated with a world that just couldn't let me have what I wanted. She smiled with me when I felt good and that made me feel even better. Seeing her became the highlight of my day.

Her spot was on the corner of 21st and S Street, a prime location, lots of traffic down 21st. It was unusual for a billboard to be positioned so low, so close to the sidewalk but day after day she remained free of graffiti, a sign that I was not the only one who knew that she was something special. Even the hearts of our town's prolific vandals were not immune to the sweet stare, that lovely full smile.

Icon-Cola, a relative newcomer to the carbonated beverage market were to thank for brightening our town. The little market just a block from her corner sold Icon-Cola and judging by the three rows of shelf space given I'd say they sold plenty. I myself got in the habit of grabbing at least one Icon-Cola each morning. It replaced my coffee. With increasing frequency I'd have an Icon-Cola in the evening as well. High Fructose Corn Syrup never tasted so good as it did when I thought of her shiny lip gloss.

I didn't know her name. I'd never spoken to her, until Cheryl walked out on me. I was caught completely off guard. I came home, sipping a 16 bottle of Icon-Cola and found her packing her bags. Her cousin Chad helped her load a dresser, and several boxes into the back of his truck. I wasn't surprised at his cold attitude toward me. Apparently he'd been informed that he no longer had to pretend to like me.

Cheryl wasn't angry, and that's what let me know this was for real. She looked at me sadly and explained, "I'm sorry. For the last year I've just been going through the motions, trying to recapture the feelings I once had, but they just aren't there anymore. You aren't the man I fell in love with."

What could I say? I couldn't argue. She was right. I wasn't that man, nor did I want to be. I'd become content, as boring as that may be. I had a warm apartment, a job that was close enough to walk to and plenty of time to read. I also had a wonderful woman to wrap around each night. What terrible irony; Now that she was gone, I would be hungry again. I would have some of that drive and passion that attracted her to me to begin with. Or would I? Even as I watched her pack and drive away I just didn't feel any need to pursue her. I didn't cry or beg or make demands. I even helped her pack up the computer. She never was good at dealing with all the plugs and cables. And then she was gone.

She'd taken the bed, but left the couch. I curled up on it and closed my eyes. An hour later, having given up on falling asleep I decided to take a walk. The little market was still open and without thinking I grabbed a bottle of Icon-Cola, ice cold comfort. Even the way the bottle felt in my hand was soothing, the bubbles in my stomach doubly so. Before I realized what I was doing, I'd made my way to her. I stood there at 21st and S, looking at her, drinking my Icon-Cola and then I just started to talk. For the better part of an hour I shared every frustration, every little victory, concern or annoyance I'd felt over the past months. It felt so good to let it all out, every boring, minute detail. And when I was done talking I just stood there and looked at her smile and drank my Icon-Cola. I slept soundly that night and I smiled a private smile when I walked past her again the next morning. She was there for the whole town, but we now had something special between us.

Over the next month I took to visiting her regularly. I didn't miss Cheryl much at all. I felt more relaxed actually now that she was gone. So what if I was content? So what if life was mildly pleasing to me? I would be ashamed no longer. I put on a few pounds, let my beard grow and got up to three Icon-Colas a day. They came out with a new 22 ounce bottle and I drank quite a few of these as I stood on her corner, late at night.

It was foggy that morning. I wore my beanie and gloves and my large coat as the cold weather had arrived suddenly in the night. I was happy, as always, making my way toward 21st and S. By now her picture was everywhere; in magazine, on bus stop ads, but these were just pictures. Her soul resided at 21st and S. The corner had become a part of her and she a part of it. The fog was so thick I could see only a few feet and I was face to face with her before I saw it. The terror gripped me. Half of her billboard was gone. Not stripped completely clean, but being replaced, by an ad for Spreckle Toothpaste. Some grinning 9 year old was destroying the best thing in my life. I grabbed at the new image and tore, but underneath was only grey. Her image wouldn't stand up, was dead now under these new heavily glued strips of advertising.

I marched off to work, not able to even say goodbye. It was not a productive day. Making my way home again, I expected to see the job finished, to see her completely covered but the billboard folks had not been back. The vandals had and the smiling Spreckle Toothpaste now bore the words Choko painted across the white pearly teeth, one letter per tooth. My girl was still graffiti free. I felt a solidarity with Choko, I felt a sense of community and shared grief.

I did no better at sleeping than I had at filing, indexing and faxing. I tossed and turned all night. In the morning I got off of the couch, still wearing my clothes from the day before. I grabbed a bottle of Icon-Cola but I did not go by 21st and S. Work wasn't as bad as the day before and I actually welcomed the distraction. On my way home I decided to get it over with. I saw from a block away that she was still there. Was it possible that even the workers hired by whatever heartless entity owned this billboard were taken in by her beauty? Even it this were the case I knew it was a just a matter of time before she was gone for good. And I knew then what I had to do.

The universe it would seem, was smiling on me. Icon-Cola had released a new 32 ounce bottle and it reached stores that day. They had plenty of them in the new Icon-Cola cooler at the little market. I grabbed myself a cold one and made my way back to her corner.

I stood in the sunlight and stared into her eyes. My left hand pushed deep into my pocket as my right wrapped around my large plastic bottle. I felt myself grow hard behind my zipper. I stroked myself through my pocket. She smiled. I unzipped my pants. There was no shame or modesty as I pulled my cock out. All was good and right with the world. I stroked myself there on the corner. The wind felt great against my exposed skin. Her eyes were half closed in that "come hither" stare and I loved her.

I heard the sirens, and I let go of myself long enough to get the top of off my big bottle of Icon-Soda. I returned to stroking myself with one hand and raised the bottle to my lips with the other. Still she smiled. I drank deep. It tasted like her. I could taster her clean freshly shampooed hair. I could taste her lip gloss. I could even taste bit of Spreckle toothpaste as my eyes danced over her perfect white teeth. I heard the cops pull up. I didn't care. She filled my vision as my eyes focused only on her beauty. I was no longer aware that one of her ears was covered by an interloping ad for an obviously inferior product. I was aware of her staring at me and of her perfect skin, her enchanting smile.

"What the god-damn... You cut that out!" I heard from my right. The bottle was almost empty. I gulped. I stroked. Tears of joy, ecstasy and about a hundred other emotions streamed down my face. I felt a hand on my shoulder. The last drop of Icon-Cola slid down my throat and I came then, long and hard. The hand shot away from my shoulder. She kept smiling. I kept cumming.

"HOLY SHIT! You son of a bitch."

I was thown to the ground. I sobbed, but I didn't feel sad. I felt wonderful. I felt alive. They could take that billboard now. They could never take her from where she now resided, in my heart. I felt the handcuffs around my wrist and I closed my eyes.

I did my time. I'm on their little list. So what. I've known a love like no other. It really is better to have loved and lost, as the saying goes. They'll never understand. I feel sorry for them, I really do.

I'm down to one bottle of Icon-Cola a day.

Saturday, November 04, 2006


"Look god, I’m trying to do your will but it’s just too confusing. Everyone has their own idea about what you want and you certainly aren't forthcoming with instructions. I can't deal with it any more. So here’s the deal, you come talk to me or forget it. I don’t need a burning bush or a rumbling voice of thunder or nothing but if you want something you gotta let me know. I aint go.." Barry's prayer was interrupted by the doorbell. He considered ignoring it, but then he remembered that he had ordered delivery.

"Sorry God, I think it’s my pizza, I’ll be right back."

As Barry pulled the door open he was surprised and pleased to see a beautiful woman holding a large pizza box. She wore a mini skirt, a sweater and tights with a light coat, her medium length red hair piled up on top of her head. She really was stunning to behold. At seventeen years old Barry is not accustomed to having the attention of such a lovely woman at least five years his senior.

"You order a pizza?" she asked, at last breaking the awkward silence.

"Oh yeah, thanks. How much was that."

"Oh don’t worry. Its on me."

"I don’t have to pay for it?"

"No, Barry Its on me."

"I’m sorry, do I know you? How do you know my name?"

"I’m god. You wanted to talk, remember."

Of course, he was being put on. He wondered which jackass friends of his older brother's were hiding in the bushes. They probably had the camcorders rolling. "Were you listening at my window or something? Who the hell are you?"

"Barry, look at my name tag."

She seemed so sincere. While she was certainly delusional Barry found himself wanting to believe that she was at least innocent. He leaned in and read the name tag pinned to her sweater. It read; Hi, my name is God.

"Oh come on now. That's just ridiculous."

Handing Barry the pizza she pulled out her wallet and piled various articles of identification on the pizza box, describing each out loud as she slapped them down impatiently. "Drivers License, Passport, Green Card, Goldie’s adult video card..."

"Yeah alright, alright, I get it. You're... You're god. Wow. I just didn’t think..."

"That I’d be a woman?"

"That you’d be hot!"

"Ahh, that’s so sweet. Now, am I going to stand out here all night, or are you gonna invite me in?"

"Oh! Oh yeah of course sorry. Come on in." Barry held the door for his guest and then rushed in after to tidy up a bit, kicking his dirty gym socks and embarrassing Garfield pajamas under the bed.

God didn't seem to mind the clutter as she had a seat on the bed and opened up the box, taking a slice for herself and handing one to Barry who took a seat at the far end of the bed.

"Hey, I didn’t order vegetarian."

"Oh yeah, that was me."

"You’re a vegetarian?!"

"Yes sir, that I am."

"But you’re the one that made meat taste so good." Barry laughed and choked a bit on his first bit of pizza.

"Yeah, that’s real cute kid. I've seen that bumper sticker too. You had some questions."

Embarrassed at his failed joke, and remembering the passion he'd felt before the doorbell rang, Barry did his best to take God to task. "Yes, Yes I do. Um... Well, let's start with this, Why all these disasters and bad stuff."

"To punish humanity for the current miserable state of pop music."


"Relax, I’m kidding. Listen, you guys are so big on this free will thing, so, I give it to ya. If you want to blow each other up I let you. And if you want to listen to really crappy music, I let you."

"Well, yeah, but you know, not all disasters are man made. What about the weather?"

"It’s just a part of the plan. Weather is an important part of what you guys have named..." and she made the quote marks in the air as she said "'The natural order of things'" her distaste evident in her voice. "I, by the way actually titled it “Composition in 11 billion parts”. Anyhow part of free will is I’m just gonna let you and the bunnies and the polar ice caps work it all out on your own. You'll work it out. After all, I didn’t give you umbrellas but you thought of them eventually, even if it took a bit longer than I thought it would."

"...and disease?"

"Hey, microbes got a right too. They’re ahead in the polls where I come from you know. But just between us, I put my money on you guys. I mean hey, microbes never invented the naked lady pen." and as Barry stared, aghast, God pulled out a pen, turned it upside down, and watched the black swimsuit disappear off of a shapely blond. "I love these things."

"Um, yeah... Look, what about Noah and the flood and all that."

"Oh, that. Okay, look, I'm gonna level with you here. That, um, that was a mistake."

"A MISTAKE! You’re supposed to be an omnipotent being, how can you have made a mistake?"

"Hey." She snapped back. "I didn’t say it was my mistake. I was on vacation."

Realizing he's pissed her off, Barry went about making nice quickly. "Well I guess an omnipotent being is entitled to a vacation. You go to Jupiter or somethin’?"

"No, Vegas, anyway I got back from vacation and the flood was already happening. I’d told a few of the guys to do some clean up and the lazy bastards had decided a flood would do the job nicely. It was to late to stop it so I put in a call to Noah, made up some stuff about wiping away sin and what not. You know the rest."

"Wow that’s really messed up."

"Hey you cheated on your last midterm am I giving you a hard time? And never mind the thoughts you've been thinking about Sheila since you were ten."

"You know about that?!"

"Relax, it's not so bad. Don't tell your Uncle Bob this, but Sheila, well, she aint actually your cousin, so you know, you're in the clear."

Barry was glad at this news, but more than that he was embarrassed as he ran an inventory on what else God must know about him.

"Okay, look I'm sorry. So, I guess we’re on our own. You don’t interact with us then."

"Eh, you know. I can’t help the occasional little gift."


"Bagels. Those are from me. And knee high socks, which I think are so cute. I was sure you guys would come up with them on your own but I got impatient."

As God went about adjusting the buckle on her Mary Janes it occurred to Barry that she was a bit of a dork. Suddenly realizing that she probably knew he was thinking he decided it best to get back to his questions.

"So what do you want from us?"

"What do you want from me."

"Well different things now that I’ve seen you." as the realization of what he'd just said sank in the young man turned a deep shade of red. He pushed on quickly, "Um, I mean, Just to know you're there I guess. Just to know you're listening."

"That sounds about right. That'll do for me too."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it. What do you want? A list of rules. Okay, be good, be patient with Sheila, she'll be needing a good friend soon, and take care of your teeth. I can't stress that last one enough. Oh, one more thing. Satan and I have our own issues to work out alright. Could you folks Puh-lease leave us out of your tabloids and gossip? I've really had quite enough of it." And with this she stood to leave. "You’re a good guy Barry. Just keep it up. I’ll be around."


"You can call me Sharon."

"Oh, uh, okay, um Sharon. You uh, maybe, um," and Barry surprised himself as he pushed past his nervousness to grab at an opportunity that he never figured he'd have again. "You wanna neck?"

"Nice try kid. I'll see ya later."

Modern Medical Miracles

After going through usual routine of blood pressure, weight, height, "Are you in any pain today?" Janet was led once again to a small examination room. She passed the first half hour wait scrutinizing the calendars, pens, coasters and wall clock bearing the name of various pharmaceutical companies. At first it was interesting to wonder about these freebies, and the salespeople who delivered them to doctors offices. That the practice of giving promotional items these to medical professionals continued was a sign that it must be working. Had any of the scores of prescriptions that had been written her been influenced by the "Pfizer" plastic Frisbee that the good doctor used to play catch with his pure bred French bull dog on weekends.

A nurse opened the door, leading a rather shell shocked looking young patient. "Oops, sorry. I thought this room was empty." the nurse apologized backing quickly back out.

Janet pulled out a paperback and continued waiting. She had grown accustomed to the long waits at some point and no longer became upset, opting instead to make the most of the time away from work and the stresses of life. The small office was not quite zen, a poor excuse for a meditation suite, but it didn't keep her from getting lost in a trashy novel for awhile.

"Hi Janet, I’m Doctor Mosley, sorry to keep you waiting. Dr. Plant is on sabbatical so I'm helping him out." The doctor spoke quickly, never bringing his eyes up from the "Merck Pharmaceuticals" clipboard he clutched in his left hand. "I’ve reviewed you chart and I have some prescriptions ready for you so, you’ll be out of here in a jiffy. Thanks for coming in." and with this he turned to leave, having never so much as glanced at his patient.

"Doctor?" Janet interrupted his hasty retreat.

"Yes?" And at last she saw his eyes. He had nice eyes. In fact he reminded her a bit of Paul Newman. "Well, I... wonder if I might ask you a few questions?"

"Of course. That’s what I’m here for isn’t it?"

"Oh, yes of course. Thank you." Janet let her first impression go and decided she rather liked this older doctor. "I’ve been doing some reading on the internet and I’ve done a bit of research at the library into some alternative treatments. Not that I question the treatments you’re prescribing I just thought that maybe we could try some changes in diet and.."

"Janet, Janet, Janet, that’s fantastic." Dr. Mosley interrupted. "I encourage all of my patients to be well informed on their conditions and I think you’ve got a great idea there. You work on the diet, I’ll write up these prescriptions and in the end you’ll not only feel good, you’ll look good too." as the doctor spoke he returned his gaze to the clipboard in front of him. Janet felt dismissed and returned to feeling a tad combative.

"No, Doc, I don’t mean that kind of diet. Look, Doctor, have you considered what increasing my Omega 3’s might do. I found some great fish oil supplements. I’ve also been looking into some herbs, even just simple things like chamomile have shown impressive results."

The medical professional interrupted again. "Yes, Omegas, of course, I’ve heard of some… thoughts on the omega fish... properties, but hardly what we’d call clinical studies. And Chamomile, well, that’s just tea."

"Yes, Doctor, I suppose you’re right. But what do you think of the debate over whether or not my condition even exists. I mean studies are being conducted at the Main Clinic that suggest a whole range of possible causes for my group of symptoms from food allergies to environmental toxins. I certainly think it’s worth exploring a few more options before adding anymore chemicals."

"The Main studies, yes of course, I’m well aware of the students, studying their, um, studies there in Main, of course, but well, the… Texas test we conducted assures us you have no allergies, and the um… North Dakota screen ruled out any sort of toxic presence."

Janet knew when she was being put on. 'Who the hell is this guy?' she wondered feeling like the victim of a prank. "I’ve never heard of those tests, and I certainly don’t remember them being administered."

"Yes well, you were unconscious! In fact maybe you’d like something to relax you now, I’ve got a little something here in my pocket in fact…"

"No! Doctor that’s okay. I’m fine. I just want to be a part of the diagnosis here."

"Yes. Of course." and then he muttered under his breath, "Because you’re a doctor."


He feigned innocence. "What? Oh, you’re not? No really, I meant that sincerely. I, uh, I though you were a doctor… of medicine... I’m sorry. You’re just so well informed."

Janet chose her words cautiously. The sarcasm was pissing her off, but the last thing she needed was a fight. Avoiding stress was an important part of dealing with her condition. "Yes, well, I have become a bit of a citizen scientist I guess, but I’m not meaning to disregard or disrespect your years of schooling and training. I apologize. I do definitely want to look into some alternatives, but only under your guidance, please."

"Well that’s great!" His impatience was still showing, but he seemed to be making an effort to keep it in check, responding to his patients calm demeanor. "Look we’ve gotten your symptoms cleared up. We’ve done a bang up job there I’d say. Now if you’ll just trust us with a few more prescriptions I think we can keep you in the healthy state you’re in today. And of course we can add some tea or mushroom soup or something, no problem."

"That’s just it Doctor. With all due respect I’m not sure that the symptoms are that much worse than the side effects of the drugs. If we can give it a month, I’d really like to see what we can do with a little exercise and a few adjustments to my diet, add some vitamins, cut back on the sugars, maybe go organic…"

"Yes! Organic! Because we love the little buggies don't we? I know, let’s all eat the way people ate 200 years ago. God knows folks were a picture of health then. Let’s just get away from all our big bad chemicals and spooky drugs.
"I have a great idea; Let’s just pretend that it wasn’t the doctors and pharmacists who helped increase the life expectancy while your organic food growers have served humanity by keeping Birkenstock wearing pre-med drop outs employed in the herb departments of your precious little food co-operatives in places like Vermont and Utah.
"'Say Sue, don’t’ you have a doctor’s appointment today after lunch.'" he now began a dialogue feigning a pair of exaggerated falsettos as he danced about his office. "'Well, yes Beth, I did, but I ate my parsley so I don’t really think I need to go now.” “Oh my, and here I though it was just a garnish.”"

"Now you listen here!" Janet shouted. She had had enough. "I hardly think this is appropriate behavior for a man of science." Janet was surprised to find herself standing and yelling in the exam room.

The doctor yelled back, in a loud booming voice. "You Don’t Want A Man Of Science! You want a witch doctor with a good tan who can see your aura reflected in a bowl of organic miso. You’d just as soon we throw away the last couple of thousand years of medical science and kill us some chickens, maybe apply a few leaches."

Doctor Mosley was in her face, and Janet was now feeling more scared than angry as his tirade continued. "Here, here, I’ve got some pins you can stick yourself here and there, maybe munch on my Fichus plant here and you ought to be all better as long as you don’t accidentally listen to any non public radio on your way home, but that won’t happen will it, because surely you wouldn’t ride home to your solar powered yurt in one of those marvels of cancer causing science known as an automobile would you? Hell we’re both past thirty now, how the hell long do we want to live for anyhow? We're just taxing mother earth of her precious resources." He grabbed Janet by the hand as he climbed on to the examining table. "Come on, let’s just lay down and die."

Janet was close to tears now, as the Doctor crossed his arms over his chest, closed his eyes and let his tongue hang from the corner of his mouth. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. When she saw him open one eye she addressed him, as calmly as she could manage.

"Doctor, I’m sorry. I… I know your right. I do trust you. It's just, well, It's just that I’ve been so scared. Please Doctor, what is your treatment?"

Doctor Mosley hopped up from the table, grabbed his clip board and staring at intently went on as if nothing had happened.

"Great. I’m glad to hear you come to your senses. I’ve got a few good prescriptions here to add to your regiment and I’ll figure next week we can start removing your major organs. We’ll have you good to go in no time."

Janet took the prescription slip handed to her. "Yes doctor."

Ice Cream; Zen Story Number One

Thomas sat playing with his Hot Wheels on the floor making the sounds of revving engines and screeching tires with his mouth as five year olds will do. His mother sat nearby knitting, a sweater, beanie or pair of gloves taking form on her lap as her skilled fingers moved rapidly.


"Yes dear.."

"Is Daddy dead?"

"Thomas, no! Of course not. You're father has simply gone out for ice cream."


Thomas blasted the invading alien hordes hitting the single red button repeatedly. The Atari video game console had been a present for his tenth birthday. His mother sat nearby, reading the latest edition of "Ms" Magazine.


"Yes dear..."

"Has dad left us?"

"Tommy! Why must you say such things? Your father has simply gone out for ice cream."


Thomas stood, looking over his mother's shoulder as she read what he considered to be a perfectly idiotic mystery novel. He was sullen and angry at the world, as teenagers often are.

"So Mother, you think dad's started a new family."

"Now Tom, I don't want to hear any more of this. I've told you, You're father has simply..."

And he said the old refrain with her, "Gone out for Ice Cream."

"Yes, that's right."

Thomas had finally had it. He couldn't take it any more. "Mom, Wake up! Dad is GONE. He's left us. It doesn't take ten freaking years to get ice cream now does it? You sit there with that vacant expression on your face, living in your little dream world. Well it's time to wake up. You can't go on like this. Face fact and accept it; Dad is gone and he's not coming back." Thomas saw his mother smiling at something over his shoulder and it only served to upset him more. "Ice cream! Really!"

She continued smiling and finally Thomas turned to see what she was staring at, figuring it was nothing and that his forcing her eyes open had perhaps been too much for her. As he turned his head, much to his amazement a bearded man in a long out of fashion coat and hat stood with his arms full of grocery bags. It took Thomas a moment to realize that he recognized this man from photos and even a few hazy memories.


"Hey, who wants some ice cream? I got a spumoni, I got a rocky road. Here's some vanilla, some French vanilla and vanilla swirl; chocolate chip, chocolate mint chip, chocolate chip cookie dough and chocolate mocha fudge swirl with the marshmallows. You like tin roof? I got tin roof. I got Neapolitan. Here's some strawberry, raspberry, black cherry and boysenberry. How about whipped cream. Who needs whipped cream? We got whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate syrup, crushed Oreos, we even got those little silver things; you know those little silver things, they look like you can't eat 'em, but guess what, you can! Here ya go."

The list continued as Thomas' still smiling mother began happily stirring her plain vanilla in a bowl. She didn't like to eat it until it had softened a bit.

"I got ice cream sandwiches, Popsicles, push ups, and fifty fifty bars. Here's a frozen banana, it's not quite ice cream, but its a yummy frozen treat."

"Sorry mom."

"We got marshmallow swirl, strawberry cheesecake vanilla, white Russian and chunky monkey. Yes sir. We got it all..."