Maybe I fired my brain with all the writing I accomplished today at the wine palace, but for whatever reason I was unable to put together even one cogent sentence tonight after I got home. YUCK. The Wall? I hope not. I hope its just: Hey, you wrote a whole big scene today at work, and it was one hell of an emotionally challenging scene, so just chill, have some oatmeal raisin cookies and don't put so much pressure on it.
You're putting the pussy on a pedestal.
And now I'm pissy because I just got in a tiff with Aaron. Unrelated to the writing entirely. It had to do with astringent. YUP. Married life is awesome. We just had a fight about Neutrogena astringent and how bad it smells, a fight in which I got uber defensive because it was me who bought the stuff so that he could feel better (He's got poison ivy or some shit) and then here he is bitching about how it smells like ass.
WE. But I'm extra pissy about the fight because I was looking forward to a fun time with him...later... and now that ain't gonna happen because we are pissed at one another. FML.
Grump city.
I got invited to an old friend's baby shower in NYC this July. I haven't been back since I left... that's one of those seemingly obvious statements isn't it? I mean since I moved away.
But i love this girl, love many of the ladies I know will be in attendance, and also my good friend Julia will be in the city in July, so I'm beginning to toy with the idea...
Of course I'm dead broke.
We'll see. Obviously you can tell I'm writing to blow off steam. Yeah. So. I think I'll post something that isn't mine, because I'm in the mood to do that, and hope you enjoy.
The following is one of Aaron's Faux-Blog entries.
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So I found a dead guy in a porta-potty.
My town has an annual Park Day. Park Day is a little, one-day, festival-type dealie. It has clowns and music, and mini golf and sometimes rides, and animals and pony rides, and people with booths selling all manner of goods. It's held in the town park, which is surprisingly pretty. Well with all of the people that go, and take part, they need porta-potties. Or maybe it has something to do with selling food. I don't know.
Anyway, they have port-a-potties, four of them. My wife had to rent a port-a-potty for an outdoor bridal shower once. They dropped it of and picked it up the same day. I don't know why that didn't happen with the ones at the park, but it didn'. They sat there for two weeks. Maybe even longer.
I sometimes go for walks, and sometimes my wife comes. I usually walk by or through the park. One day when we were walking through the park we happened to walk by one pair of portable toilets. I was immediately assaulted by a foul odor. I commented quite loudly as I didn't see anyone in the area and figured I was safe in being crude. I assumed the smell was that of days-old urine and feces. It was my wife who noticed the latch. The little wedge-shaped window said OCCUPIED. We giggled and whispered embarrassedly as we scurried away like a couple of teenagers who had just rung a stranger's doorbell. We thought it was odd that someone would be using a left-over toilet. But we figured maybe they thought it was a permanent addition to the park. That was about a week after Park Day.
A further week later we were walking again, this time in the evening, around eight. The New England sun begins to grow weary in that part of September and it was getting quite dark. We again walked by the toilet. The same smell lingered. My wife pointed out that the latch again read OCCUPIED. We remarked on the strange coincidence. We thought that perhaps the latch had simply become stuck in that position after a over zealous slam. I joked that perhaps someone died in their, and no one noticed. I dared Beth to go look we joked for a bit and we were about to go look when a truck pulled up and people got out and walked down the herring ladder the toilets. Night-fishing maybe. Whatever the case, we didn't want to look like weirdos peaking into porta-potties. So we just walked home and joked about it.
That night Beth went to bed early; she had to work early the next morning. I told her I'd come soon, but I wasn't tired yet. It wasn't a lie; I meant it when I said it. I wasn't tired. With her in bed I was alone. I was bored. Boredom gave way to wandering thought which opened the door for nagging curiosity. I started wondering about the toilet. I imagined a rotting corpse still frozen in a hunched position, with his decomposing elbows resting on his sallow knees. I had to know. I had to know that minute.
By the time I got to the park it was around midnight. I was careful not to be seen; the park is closed after sundown. I stood in front of the door with the red OCCUPIED window. I almost didn't open it. But then I did. I had to pull hard because the door was locked. Not as hard as you'd think though.
The body was not as I imagined it. When he died he apparently doubled over forward. His body was bent completely in half and wedged between the toilet seat and the door, his head and feet both on the floor. I don't know what position his arms were in because the moment I pried the door open gravity launched the body at me. I shrieked a quickly curtailed shriek. A combination of shear terror and a desire not to be discovered turned my shriek into sort of high pitched wheeze, like the sound of the air being let out of a balloon while the opening is stretched taught. The stall door hit me hard in the shin. I tried to step back, but the cuff of my pants caught on the bottom corner of the door and I fell backward onto my ass. The body somersaulted onto the ground and lay flat on his back.
Once the confusion had subsided and the panic passed I took a moment to look at the corpse. His head was propped up on the lip of the stall as if he was resting there. His arms were at his sides now. He was inches away from me. His face was bloated and purple, which looked black in the darkness. His open eyes were glossy burgundy orbs with no visible iris or pupil. His mouth was slack and his black tongue rested on his lower teeth. He was wearing shorts and his legs were purple from just below the knee down. I shined the little LED light that is attached to my key chain at him. Upon looking at his illuminated face I immediately wretched. I didn't puke though.
Once I gained the courage and the fortitude and the steadiness required to stand, I stood. I was in shock. It was a minute or two before the reality of the situation set in. I was inundated with rogue thoughts all vying for the forefront of my mind like a bunch of bride's maids waiting to catch a bouquet. Chief among them were the thoughts pertaining to the course of action I should take. I probably should have just called the police, I wouldn't have been in trouble. I didn't though. I just went home. I went to bed.
Fuck it, let someone else deal with it. In retrospect it was pretty awesome though.
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1 comment:
its like, oh, theres a dead guy. whatever?!
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