Tag Archives: ReadyMade

Fulfilled Dreams

“When you find all of your dreams fulfilled, it’s time to think up more dreams.”

She looked up at him. “Huh? What’s that from?”

“Me, I guess,” he said with a large, goofy smile. “My dreams are all fulfilled.”

“Really. How so?”

“I have this house I made into a home. My first book is published. And then there’s you. I love going to work most of the time. I am not starving to death, I have my health, you know. My dreams are fulfilled.”

“And?”

“And it’s time for new dreams. Time to start reaching higher.”

“Like…another book?”

“And maybe another girlfriend.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

She threw the copy of ReadyMade she was reading at him but he ducked. “See? Everything’s coming up me right now. You couldn’t even hit me with -”

Another magazine hit him square in the face.

“Nice.”

She smiled. “Gotcha! Don’t be so cocky!”

“Hey, can I help it if I’m happy?”

“I’m glad I’m on that list,” she said, getting up and walking over to the couch.

“That doesn’t mean I want to cuddle.”

“Tough. I came over here to cuddle, and cuddle I will.”

“Fine,” he said in his pretend-frustrated voice. He put his arm around her and pulled her in.

“What’s this you’re working on?” she asked, picking up the notebook he had been writing in.

“Ideas. For my next book.”

“Nice.”

“Like I said, new dreams. Not like my first book is doing well. Even the publisher said it wasn’t selling much. Maybe I can use this to get an agent. Or maybe this is the start of something bigger. It just takes the right person to read it, someone like Chuck Klosterman to tweet it, and next thing I know, it starts selling like crazy.”

“Or?”

“Or nothing. I got a book published. It was one of my dreams. I’m happy. It feels good.”

She dropped the notebook onto the floor and it landed on her crumpled magazine she’d used as a weapon just moments ago.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she said after resting her chin on his shoulder.

He smiled. “See? I’m getting everything I want.”

She got up and threw the magazine at his face again.

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More Fun Than a Barrel of Monkeys

“What are those?” she said, crinkling her nose as she usually would to a vegetable she discovered on her plate that she didn’t like.

“They were called Barrel of Monkeys. This was the only toy my great grandmother had at her house, so every year on New Year’s Day we would be forced to play with them because there was nothing else to do.”

She poked one as if they would bite. “They look boring.” A typical four-year-old response. “How do we play?”

“Well,” I said, picking up a red one. “You’re supposed to start with one, and try to hook another one onto his tail by the hand. See?” I demonstrated. She didn’t look amused. I picked up a yellow one by the hand, and then proceeded to a green one.

“Let me try?”

“Of course, that’s why I got them.”

She picked one up, yellow of course, that being her favorite, and she started trying. After a few failed attempts she got one and I applauded her.

“Great job!”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She tried again, and again, getting five in a chain before she dropped them.

“This is boring.”

“It is not, watch. I’ll try to get a bunch.”

I picked up one, hooked it to another, then another, then another, and kept going until I had about ten. She had picked up a copy of ReadyMade magazine and started turning pages as if she could read it, and I realized I was playing alone. I dropped the string of seven monkeys I had going and with my hand swept them all back into the barrel.

“You’re right. These are boring.”

She smiled and went back to pretending to read the magazine.