Zumba My Ass Once Again?

Zumba My Ass

Once again he was saddened by the thought that, “She never thinks i’m funny!“

Most of the things HE thought were funny, SHE thought were either stupid or sexually degenerate.

She hated the word ‘’shit’’ which he thought was the funniest word in the English language!

And she didn’t think sex was funny which he thought was even funnier than the word shit!

She used to say, “I don’t appreciate your barnyard humor.’’

He remembered the time she stormed out of the room after he said,  “I’d love to be able to fly like a bird but, I wouldn’t want to BE a bird because when they have sex it’s over after a couple of quick thrusts!”

She said something over her shoulder as she stormed out of the room. All he heard was, “Compared to you.” He didn’t catch the rest.

Strange as it seems, he chuckled at the craziness of the situation.

“IT’S OK she doesn’t get it most of the time!’’ he thought.  “’Fer crying out loud you can’t connect on everything!”

Still, he hoped that occasionally she’d laugh at what he DID or SAID to BE funny instead of the unintentional things that happened which she thought were  hilarious!

Like the time he was carrying the groceries in from the car, tripped over that stupid exercise ball she never used, fell and separated his shoulder!

She laughed so hard she didn’t even hear his pleas to call 911!

“I can’t,” she replied laughing hysterically, “I just peed my pants!”

Through the haze of pain he thought, “Well, at least she’s laughing!”

But then she got pissed because the exercise ball hit a nail and went flat.

As she walked out of the room the last thing he heard was, ‘’Call 911 yourself you clumsy ass hole. It’s your own damn fault! “

He had to fish the phone out of his back pocket. Which isn’t an easy task when you’re lying on the floor with a separated shoulder.

But the battery was dead!

A moment  later she came back into the kitchen.

She began picking up the groceries but she ignored him.

“But you’ve never used that thing!”,  he said through clenched teeth, in pain on the floor.

Pleadingly he pleaded, “It’s bleached out from lying outside in the sun for TWO YEARS! I made a landscape ornament out of that damn thing after the first year!”

She stared at him like she was in deep thought.  Then, glaring at him through narrowed eyes she replied, “Well, I WAS thinking of joining that zumba class starting next week!”

Then she got huffy again. “Ohhh … Why don’t you just put the damned groceries away  yourself?!”

She stormed out of the kitchen a second time.

Despite the pain he managed to say rather loudly, ‘’But honey, zumba doesn’t USE exercise balls!’’

Just before the front door closed behind him he heard her yell, ’’Good! I didn’t want to take that stupid class anyway!”

He opened the driver side door of the Mustang, sat sideways butt first, slowly rotated his body while holding his right arm tightly with his left hand until he faced the front of the car.

His right arm was useless and it was impossible to reach across the steering wheel to the shift knob and steer at the same time, so he had to drive the Mustang in first gear all the way to the hospital five miles away!

While it seemed strange to him at the time and despite the pain, he laughed all the way to the hospital.

Steel Wedges/Smoke and Distant Thunder

After a lifetime a grown man attempts to discover the secret behind his his creativity and problem solving abilities.  

Were in large part because of the challenges his father put before him when he was a boy.  

 Riding the winds of change, through smoke and distant thunder the man returns  through the light of time when, as a boy he was made to work, despite tears of pain and resentment on Sunday afternoons during the coldest days of winter splitting elm logs to be sold as firewood.

His days of youth gone forever the resentment he felt toward his father, still remains.

Through his inner eye the man watches his father temper a boy’s life teaching persistence splitting fire wood from elmwood stumps using steel wedges and a heavy maul.

The elmwood stumps not quite dry, the wood stringy and difficult to separate took two, three or even four wedges strategically placed to split apart three or four pieces of firewood from each two or three foot stumps.

With each stroke of the heavy maul, the wedges forced into the elmwood stumps bring with them a constant flow of creative challenges; reasoning to be explored, better ways to do the work.

The man realizes that the creative thought he has used throughout his life stemmed from the challenges his father gave him on those cold, gray Sunday afternoons splitting wood next to a fire fueled by logs the boy split apart from the elmwood stumps.

The split logs neatly stacked into cords each piece, imbued with separate lines of thought, different patterns of creative thinking he realizes as a grown man, became the standard for ingenuity he carried within himself for the rest of his life.  The result he realized, of his father’s efforts to give him the gift of highest distinction,

the power of creative thought.  A way of thinking emanating from those cold, cold days of work the man realizes, had sparked the fires of his creativity.

Lessons the boy took with him into adulthood lessons learned while working with his father next to bonfires fueled by the stringy elmwood he split from tree stumps using steel wedges and a heavy maul on those cold, gray Sunday afternoons during the dead of winter.

Summer Tragedy II


continued … She growled about the money all the way home as if I wasn’t there.  I stared straight ahead afraid to say a word.

She was an alcoholic but as a kid I didn’t know drinking was at the heart of her crazy flares of temper. Like the time I came home while she was breaking all the dishes on the kitchen floor.
She was either vicious or nice but you never knew which person to expect.  
 On the vicious side? Every afternoon she took a nap.  She was a light sleeper so even if the floor creaked she’d wake up and growl viscously like a rabid dog that could speak. 
 When she wasn’t drinking you could almost say she was sweet.  But I had to be cautious.  I never knew which person to expect.  
Occasionally I made her laugh .  She made me feel like I was clever and funny.  But I don’t remember any outward displays of affection.  

They must had had a good sized stash hidden somewhere in the house.  When she returned to the car she carried a wad of cash big enough to choke a banker.

She had an ugly look on her face.  I have a feeling she grabbed a lot more money than he needed just to spite him.

Next: The Incident That Started It All …

Summer Tragedy


He had an affair with the wife of a couple they had become friends with.  The tragedy that followed changed our lives forever.  

It all began one summer when they started partying almost every Saturday or Sunday with four other couples on the grass next to Jim and June’s house.   

We roamed around on our bicycles with other kids we knew who lived in that neighborhood or brought our gloves and played catch in the street, threw the football around or maybe even got a little game going,  two against two, on the grass.

The men played poker while the women hung out in the kitchen or sat in a circle outside on the grass smoking, drinking and laughing not far from where the men were gathered guffawing, teasing each other or being serious depending on how much money was in the pot.  

There was a bucket with beer and ice.  Bottles of booze on a table next to the beer.  A lot of drinking  going on.  

My mom drank Manhattans.  She wasn’t a sloppy drunk.  You’d hardly know she was drunk until her temper flared.  

One time in the middle of the afternoon her temper flared.  .  

My dad told her to go home and get more money.  She got pissed and stormed off across the street where the car was parked.   

When angry, she growled and muttered under her breath.  Passing by me she growled at me to get the hell in the car.   

I still don’t know why she wanted me to ride along.  Maybe in her drunken state she thought she’d stay home to embarrass him. Maybe she thought if both of us deserted him it would  cause him further embarrassment.  

She growled all the way home about the money as if I wasn’t even there.  I stared straight ahead afraid to open my mouth.  

continued …   

London Broil – Redux – Part III

continued … when he doubled over she called him a doofey unemployed jake ass ….. he laughed to himself …  ”what the hell is a ‘jake ass … ?”  continued …

….. most nights after cleaning the kitchen he joined her in the t.v. room even though he hated that goddamned western channel …


he usually curled up with a book by his favorite author louis l’amor …


that one night she told him she wanted popcorn …


… he took great pride in his popcorn making skills … but on that one night they had run out of margarine ….. !


it was a mystery to him why she didn’t like butter on her popcorn … he loved buttered popcorn … !

maybe  that was the reason why … ?


“… wull  … ,” he told her, ”there isn’t any margarine … ”


but she insisted,

… ”the car’s got plenty of gas,” she said,  …

” … and i could use some quiet time. 

so why don’t you just leave  … ” ?


so, he drove 8 miles to

the Piggly Wiggly in town 

but it was closed for the annual inventory …


so he drove around the corner to 

Charlies Convenience Store 

but it must have burned down …

the walls were charred black

and the roof was missing …


‘’ … i’ll be damed if i’ll drive another three miles over to Plank City for a tub of frickin’ Parkay … ,” he said, out loud to himself …


“… she’ll just have to eat her goddamned popcorn with butter tonight … ” !


( … he wondered if she’d know the difference … 


he knew better … )

continued … 


Thrown out shit, ridiculous, almost worthless works combined into one stupid, bullshit and not a LITTLE fricking  brilliant (at times) collection of; poems, incomplete thoughts and ideas .. very brief stories all told in the most esoteric way.

It’s Esoteric !


Holding Onto A Rope Hooked to the Back of A Car While

Standing Inside A Pair of Skis Just Prior to

Rolling Down the Surface of

A Gravel Road 

Falling from a pair of skis while being towed behind the

car after announcing one lazy Sunday morning, “I 

can ski behind a car!’’

 If he had known she harbored secret resentments from 

long ago resulting in the car being driven dangerously fast over 

patches of gravel where the 

ice had been worn away,  the gravel grinding 

his skis down like sandpaper which of course 

separated him from the skis and the rope but, 

did not impede his 

body from rolling down the road like a  

rolling pin further and further away from the 

back of the car (and the rope) … he might not have been quite so 

cavalier in the first place.  


(Here’s another one … )

I was so tired i had to open my eyes to see what i was doing. 


(It’s so esoteric!  It’s Esoterica!)