Tag Archives: comedy

Underwierd

“I don’t like my underweird, daddy,” she said to up him as they stood in line at the market. He had no clue what she was talking about, but noticed she was doing the pee pee dance.

“Your what?”

“Underweird.”

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Huh?”

“The bathroom. Potty? Do you have to pee?”

She looked up at him and seemed to think about it. He couldn’t believe she was surrounded by all of that candy and not begging for some.

“No, thank you. I don’t have to go.” He was baffled. Why was she doing the pee pee dance if she didn’t have to pee? You don’t just do that awkward dance, grabbing at yourself and putting your knees together. He’d never seen her act like this before.

“Okay, let’s go to the bathroom,” he said to her, reaching out for her hand. She took it and he carried the basket of food towards the restrooms. The marmalade slipped from side to side due to its weight, which threw him off a bit as he walked. As he stopped in front of the restrooms, she pulled at his hand a bit.

“Can I wait out here?” she pleaded.

“What?”

“While you pee?” she said to him.

“You’re the one who has to pee,” he responded with his eyebrows up. He had no clue what was going on.

“Nuh-uh. I don’t have to pee.” She started pulling at herself again.

“Then what are you doing?” he asked, pointing to her hands. She began to do what he thought was the pee pee dance once more.

“It’s my underweird. I don’t like my underweird.”

“Your WHAT?” He looked up into the flourescent lights of the market as if God or the loudspeakers of the supermarket could help him. Meanwhile, she pulled her skirt up and pointed at her underwear.

“My UNDERWEIRD!” she said, pointing. He finally understood and pushed her skirt back into place.

“Okay hun. We can change them when we get home. And for the record, it’s underWEAR.”

“What’s a record?” she asked.

“Never mind.”

Drawing by the super-talented Larissa Meek.

Advertisements

The Best Burger

Photograph by Gina Esguerra. Click the photograph for her amazing blog.

He opened the car door as if to get out when she stopped him,

“We drove an extra hour for this?”

“Trust me…best burger and fries I have ever had.”

“Where are we, anyway?” she said as she gathered her giant sunglasses and wallet and placed them into her Coach purse.

“Rosie’s Den. Arizona. Look, it’s on the steps!”

“Grand,” she said as she got out of the car. “Wait, where are my sunglasses?”

“You just put them in your bag. Look at these windows! Can you believe this?”

“You can’t even see inside there’s so much shit hanging in them.”

“Hmm, I was actually going to say there’s less stuff than I remember.”

She walked to the door and waited for him to catch up and open the door for her.

“Since when do you wait for me to hold the door?”

“It’s filthy…I didn’t want to touch it.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back as she passed him, then followed her inside.

The fluorescent lights by the door flickered as they entered, buzzed a bit and she turned in an attempt to leave, but he stopped her. “Trust me,” he said to her as an old woman with an obvious mustache in a vintage waitress outfit which was too small for her age approached them, her short skirt revealing antique, wrinkly legs with more varicose veins than either had ever seen.

“Hi! Two, please,” he told her in a cheery voice as his girlfriend shuddered. She clutched her purse tight against her chest as they were led to a booth right next to a bright Arizona Lottery sign in the window.

“Ugh, these windows are filthy! Don’t they ever wash them?”

“How could they with all that stuff on them?” he asked.

She shrugged as the waitress brought them menus. “I’m Flo,” she said.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes, really,” she said with a bitter tone. “Do you want to hear the specials? Because I’m not wasting my breath if you already know what you want.” She took a cigarette out and lit it.

“Um…you know that’s illegal these days, right?” she asked the waitress.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“We already know what we want,” he said, picking up both menus and handing them back to Flo. “We’ll each have a burger and fries with a chocolate milkshake.”

Flo took both menus from his hand and practically stomped off as if this weren’t part of her job.

“There are things hanging from the ceiling back there covered in flies. This table looks as if it hasn’t been washed in ages. And did you see the cook back there?” She nodded toward the kitchen, which they could see through an order counter. Flo brought a burly balding man their order. He wore a filthy wifebeater covered in what could be years of spills, his hairy chest sticking out of it. “He is disgusting.”

“Just you wait. This burger is the best thing you’ve ever eaten. I guarantee it.”

A loud sizzling noise emitted from the kitchen as he said that as if to support his point.

She started rooting through her purse for something and started pulling out objects as she searched. Hair brush. Makeup. Birth control pills. Wallet. Finally she found what she was looking for, a wet-nap.

“There’s a bathroom.”

“I am not finding out what the bathrooms look like here. I’d rather use a port-a-potty.”

“You won’t use those when we go to football games.”

“Exactly.”

He started to look around at the many items hanging in the old diner. Random papers hung next to the register on the window; a few were bad checks while others seemed to be orders from companies they were awaiting. The open sign flickered a bit as Flo was suddenly next to them with their meals, which she slammed down in front of them a little too hard, throwing a few fries off each plate.

“Anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good,” he said with a huge smile.

He waited.

“What?”

“I want to see you try this.”

She sighed and picked up the burger. A quick turn showed the cheese sliding down the edges, a thick burger and a roll that had seen better days. As she sunk her teeth into it a pickle started to escape from the other side, but that didn’t matter. Her eyes widened as she savored the bite. She chewed with precision and finally swallowed the bite.

“Well?”

She smiled. “I hate when you’re right.” She sunk her teeth into another chunk of the burger as he picked his up.

“See? Told you.”

“Oh my God, it is SO good.”

He took a bite and did the same, except he frowned at the burger and looked at it as he chewed.

“What is it, hun?”

He put it down.

“Hmm. It’s not as good as I remembered.”

 

We’ll Lead You Astray…

Photo taken by me in Kung Fu Necktie, Philadelphia.

“We’ll lead you astray,” she said.

He picked up his beer and turned to face her. “Oh really?”

She laughed a bit.

“Hi, I’m Rob.” He reached out his hand.

“Sally,” she said with a smile.

“So, go ahead. Lead and I’ll follow.”

She turned to her friend next to her and whispered something, and she whispered back. He started to lose his confidence. But she was the one who spoke first. She removed her cardigan and started rolling the plaid sleeves of her shirt. He noticed the tip of some cleavage peeking out of the tank she wore underneath. The band started playing which should have ended the conversation, but he persisted.

“So what do you do?”

“I’m a teacher!”

“Teacher by day, hipster by night?”

“I’m not a hipster,” she frowned.

He laughed. “I was kidding.”

He paused, making it awkward.

“Are you here to see Those Darlins, or one of the openers?”

“Darlins!” she yelled. She turned to her friend again.

“I love them, aren’t they great!”

“Yeah!” she yelled back. “Love them…saw them in Jersey a few weeks ago.”

“Nice!” he said with a smile.

The band was especially loud as she yelled something to him and he could not hear.

“Huh?”

She yelled it again and he still couldn’t hear her.

“Reading what?” he yelled to her.

She pointed at something over his shoulder, and he turned to see a lit up sign that said “We’ll Lead You Astray”.

Someone Else’s Birthday

“Morning Den. Guess what I got!” the receptionist asked him upon seeing him enter the office.

“Tell me!” he said with a small note of excitement in his voice.

“I bought my boyfriend’s birthday present! Tickets to the Flyers!”

“That’s nice.” He started to walk away.

“Hey, what’s up? Isn’t that exciting?”

He turned and gave her a look. “Sure, sure it is.” He attempted to leave again.

“Hey!” He stopped again. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, except you’re a jerk.”

Her jaw dropped and he walked out of the room.

One of the managers came in the front door and nodded to her as she passed reception. The manager suddenly stopped and turned to her.

“By the way, don’t forget, Den’s birthday is today and we’re doing the party at lunch.”

Based on a true story that happened to me today. I changed a few facts to keep people from harassing the guilty party 🙂

Come Here (A Short Film)

My short story Come Here made into a short film:

La Nuit Française

“I’ve never seen a balloon cause so much trouble!”

“I know, right?” she said to me.

We had just finished watching the 1956 French classic Le Balloon Rouge, or The Red Balloon.

“That kid got into so much trouble!” she said. I nodded. “How did you know there was so little dialogue?”

“Someone told me.” I had come up with the idea of creating our own soundtrack to it, side two of Françoise Hardy’s Maid in Paris, then side one of the Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin record.

“It made it more fun, didn’t it?”

“Oui!”

“Dork.”

She fell back onto the couch and started staring at the ceiling. “I’m glad we didn’t sell them.”

“Even though we could use the money.”

“Money can’t replace the beauty of those records.”

Someone had just offered me a shit-ton of money for my collection of record française. Yeah right, like I would part with them.

“Yeah right, like I would part with them. I lugged half of them all the way across Montreal, and most of the others, I left clothing behind in Paris for those. They are definitely worth more than money to me.”

“Me too. They’re half the reason I liked you at first.”

“Very funny.”

“Fine, that’s a lie, but on the first date it is how you lured me back to your place. French records, a little wine, you sure know how to make a girl melt.”

“You’d be surprised how often that line works. I have a nice collection of French records at my place…”

“Nice.” She frowned. “Wait, you are kidding, right?”

“Of course. I’ve never shared these records with another woman.” She looked at me. “What?”

“Never?
I thought about it and decided to come clean. “Fine, fine, I have tried. None of them appreciated them.”

“Not as much as me, right?” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me into her arms.

“Nope!” I said as I kissed her. We made out for a bit until the needle started scratching against nothing, then returned to its arm rest.

“Should I flip it?” she asked. “Or should we maybe watch the movie again with the real audio, just to see if the effect is different?”

I smiled and picked up the remote to start the movie again. The balloon once again floated down to the little boy and I laughed as he was once again told he could not bring it on the bus, thus being late for school again.

“I’ve never seen a balloon cause so much trouble.”

An Awkward Moment

“What the hell are you doing?”

This was awkward.  REALLY awkward.  But I guess I should have expected it.  He’s been kind of a weirdo since he moved into the building years ago.

A pair of tighty-whiteys were on his head.  He was holding a broom, but the way he was cradling it, I could tell he thought it was a gun.  I thought he didn’t like guns, so I asked him about it.

“What’s with the gun?”

“Whatta ya expect?  It’s the damned CIA, they teamed up with the gypsies, I have no choice.”

His eyes went wilder than usual, and I noticed that his long, dark hair wasn’t just messy, but cluttered with sticks and dirt.  Then I whiffed the odd smell of peanut butter.

“Why does it smell like peanut butter?” I asked, looking around the room.

“Oh, that would be me.  I ran out of shampoo.”

“So you used peanut butter?”

“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Okay…”

He reached for the door as if to close it with me still standing in the doorway.  How rude.  Then I realized the one question I should have asked, but confusion distracted my normal brain patterns.

“What are you doing in my closet?”

“You’re my sworn enemy.  They’ll never think to look for me here.”

“I see.  Can you leave?”

“Can I have some macaroni and cheese?”

“How…how did you know what I was making for dinner?”

“I can smell it.”

“Oh.”

An awkward moment.

“Sure.  Pull up a chair, but leave the gun.  No weapons at the dinner table.”