Ribbons & toes

George Raymond65 Comments

For the Christmas of

my sixteenth year,

I wanted one thing

over all else.

***

And I went straight

to the place of my

parents work, to

tell them.

***

I bounded in and

immediately declared

that I wanted a car

for Christmas.

— Preferably, new.

***

My dad and mom both

stopped working, and

looked over at me.

*

My mom put down her coal shovel.

***

Said my mom,

“Why do you think you deserve a new car?”

***

“Well, I said, thoughtfully,

“All of my friends have new cars.”

***

“Well —” my mother said,

prepared for such answer.

“If all of your friends

were to jump off a bridge

— would you?”

***

“No,” I replied.

***

“All right,” she said.

“But would you for a new car?”

***

PART II

***

That Christmas morning

I awoke to find a long

red ribbon tied to my big toe.

What’s this? I asked myself.

Could it be?

***

Excitedly, I got out of bed

& began to follow the ribbon as it

led me out of my room.

***

The ribbon led me:

***

down the hallway,

into the living room,

past the Christmas tree,

into the foyer

out the front door,

over the moat,

across the yard, and

into our driveway (!)

***

Where it then

double-backed

up and around a tree,

before …

***

going back across the yard,

over the moat,

through the front door,

into the foyer

past the Christmas tree,

through the living room,

down the hallway, and

back into my room.

***

Where,

to my great disappointment,

I discovered that it was

tied to my other toe.

Finis.

0

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The big top

George Raymond42 Comments

I remember the winter

the circus came to town.

***

A few kids skipped

school to see the show.

***

“Whoah!” We said, when

we saw the empty desks.

“Luckeeee.”

***

But the next day, their

desks were still empty.

***

Then our teacher came in

and said several of the

children absent from class

had been rushed to the

hospital for poisoning,

but they were fine.

***

Furthermore, she explained,

there was no circus in town.

It was just a home that was being

fumigated for insects.

***

“Whoah!” We all said,

A home being fumigated for insects!?

“Luckeee.”

Two after midnight

George Raymond30 Comments

I don’t think it

has ever been fully

explained why the

Frankenstein monster

wore lifts.

.

IMG_2276

I think I could

out-run the Mummy.

And handedly, too.

***

I might even slow

down a bit to let the

Mummy catch-up.

***

That way, at the end of the day,

we both have a story to tell.

.

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Circus Wars

George Raymond24 Comments

Lo! The ‘great’ war

between the two

circus companies was

about to commence.

***

The Ringmaster called

for the clowns, and

the acrobats. He called

for the geeks, and the

gaffs and freaks and

the blockheads.

He called for the

flying elephants, giraffes

and the ferocious lions.

***

“Suit up and arm ye-selves,”

he cried. “We’ll teach those

second-rate interlopers!”

***

Across the river,

the other circus

was fast asleep.

***

Cried the Ringmaster,

“Bison Bob’s Wild West

Vaudeville & Indian War Battle

Reenactment Show, will rue

the day they ever heard

the name, Col. Beauregard ‘s

Famous Flying Circus & Side

Show-Supreme of 1873!“

***

The strongman wheeled out

the mighty circus cannon,

and aimed it at the rival circus.

***

A hush fell over

the circus folk.

Then the Ringmaster

said, “Fire!”

***

Boom went the cannon!

***

“Aaaaaghhhhhhhhhhh!” cried the human cannonball.

.

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The gargling man

George Raymond36 Comments

My pre-school years

were spent at the

Torino apartments, in

San Carlos, California,

***

For those unfamiliar,

San Carlos is about a

full days journey outside of

San Francisco by ocean

liner. By rocket ship

it is much faster.

***

Those years total some

of my most beloved

child-hood memories.

***

Even if, after all this time,

they are less whole memories,

than they are just un-connected,

fragments of things—

that I am fairly certain

once happened to me.

***

Nevertheless, I can

still remember a few

people from that

apartment building.

***

First there was Josh. He

was a year older than me,

and lived in an apartment

up-stairs from my own.

***

The way I remember it,

Josh had more Monopoly

money than anybody I

had ever met— before

or since. And he liked

to flash it around, too.

***

Then there was Mette,

she was a younger than me,

and my most complete

memory of her was that

she always seemed to

have a couple of lego-pieces

handy, if needed — and

indeed, quite often we did.

***

Then there was

the Gargling Man …

he lived next door to us,

— much much older than me,

***

We only met once, but

he remained one of the

great mysteries of my life.

At least, up until that time.

***

Part Two

***

“… And the Gargling Man

gargles.

Gargling his life away.

How many times

did he gargle to-day?

1 … 2 … 3 … 4 …5 …“

(from a 19th century French children’s jump rope song.)

***

Part Three

***

Now there are two

schools of thought

on who and what of

the Gargling Man.

***

1. The Rationalist Theory

It could be that, in the

design of the

apartment building,

his bathroom was

close to my bedroom,

and so, it goes to say,

the only time I would

have been aware of

his presence was when

he was in the bathroom,

getting ready for work,

or, preparing for bed.

***

Or, …

***

2.The Irrationalist Theory 

And this is my particular

school of thought.

Simply:

Maybe the Gargling Man

was always gargling.

***

Which is correct?

No one can say. 

My mom swears I am

totally exaggerating

the entire thing.

***

In particular, this

next part, which she

claims I

“cut from whole cloth”.

But I know what I saw.

***

For this one time,

I happened to be coming

out of my apartment,

when at the exact same

time, the Gargling Man

was coming out of his.

***

Startled, I took an

immediate step back.

There he was, as tall

as a tree, head-cocked,

mouth wide open,

minty smell. … Gargling.

***

I squeaked a hello.

He glanced, nodded,

and said, “Hng-gar-o”.

***

I swear that is true.

***

But then, just like that,

one day the Gargling Man

was gone.

***

I’d lie in bed at night

and listen for the

telltale sounds,

… but there were none.

***

“What will become of the Gargling Man?”

I would ask my dad.

But he would just look

at me funny and say,

“I have no idea what that boy is talking about.”

***

Then, I guess, I forgot all about it.

***

That is, until one night,

many years later.

I was much older, having

just returned home for

Winter break from college.

***

I happened to be up late,

watching a popular late

night-host on TV, when

the announcer said,

“Next up, actor, Mike Lookinland.”

***

But I must have mis-heard him,

because for a second,

I thought the announcer

had said,

the “Gargling Man”.

***

And for that one moment in time, …

I was so fucking proud.

.

Scan 9

The author circa the time of the story

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