The sun is bright, too bright. I squint to see a tank coming over the distant rise. Its treads are chewing up the desert and belching dust. I peer through my rocket launcher sight. He hasn’t seen us yet. I can get him from here. I turn to my loader. He’s not here. I … I … I hear thunder. A loud boom shakes the house. My mother yells at me to unplug everything quickly. I race to the TV set. The Steve Allen show is on. The picture is all snow. Too snowy to watch. I adjust and readjust the rabbit ears. The screen goes blank. Nothing. Nothing is on. I push buttons frantically. Nothing.
My shoulder aches. I must be laying on it wrong. I shift. I squirm. It’s too dark to read. I click the switch on my lamp. It explodes in light. My eyes adjust. I’m on a beach with white, white sand. A beautiful girl is coming out of the surf. She’s walking towards me. She’s nude. She’s beautiful. I rise to greet her and my shoulder screams in pain. My high school football coach yells, “Walk it off. Walk it off.” I look down and I’m barefoot. Where are my cleats?
I read the same paragraph over and over. What does it say? I read it again. I close the book. The cover is blank. I open the book. The pages are blank. The sweat is running into my eye. I wipe it away. The target becomes clear, but it’s quivering. I take a deep breath and begin to squeeze the trigger. I have to pee. I look around the crowded room. No one notices me. I really have to pee. I look for a door. There isn’t any. I panic. I …
I knock him back a couple of steps. He charges at me and I parry his right. I hit him again. He steps back and pulls out a huge samurai sword. I turn and run. I’m running as fast as I can, but he’s gaining on me. I can feel the breeze as his sword passes close to my head. My legs weigh a ton. He’s gaining … Bobby, help me carry the groceries in from the car. I go to the back door. It’s dark. It’s night. There is no car. There is nothing. I turn to tell my mom. She isn’t here either. A baby cries. I jump from my bed. There aren’t any babies in my house. It continues to cry. I search and search. The crying gets louder and louder. I find an old photo album. I open it. It only has one picture. An old grainy snapshot of my grandfather in his police uniform. The photograph speaks but I can’t make out what its saying. Grandpa …
Dave is yelling over the noise of the plane’s engine and the wind rushing through the open door. I sit at the passenger door frame with my knees on the edge. We’re at altitude. I reach out and grab the strut with my right hand, I put my toe on the step and swivel as I grab the strut with my other hand. I push off, letting go of the strut. I’m free of the plane. I’m in freeeeefaaaaall. I turn my body to the right and … Lauren Bacall, as Slim, is telling Bogie, “You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and … blow.” She turns and leaves his hotel room. The black-and-white hotel room is empty. A fire truck goes by with its siren blaring and its horn honking. Weeeoooeee, honk, weeoooeee … I’m cold.
His knife goes into my ribs. I grab his arm. He kicks at me but misses. My side is bleeding. I want to run but can’t. The truck is barreling down at us. I flash my lights. I honk. Linda screams. The grill of the Mack truck fills our windshield. She nibbles on my earlobe. I pull her closer as she unzips my fly. I turn to kiss her. Her breath is foul and rancid. I open my eyes. Eeeow. They’re going to execute me in the morning. In the morning. I can’t go home. Everybody at the office is especially kind to me because they know. They know. It’s late, but I can’t go home. They’re going to execute me in the morning. I go home.
There’s a nude, fat guy crammed into a child’s coffin. He’s lying on his side. That seems unusual. I poke him. Nothing. I poke him again. He stirs. We’re twenty feet off the ground. He looks down. He yells. I turn and leave. This scene is too weird for me. I shinny up a flagpole for no apparent reason. It’s hard work, but I can do it easily. The pole is cold and my legs freeze to the steel pole. I can’t move. I try to yell but no sound comes out. I can’t hang on any longer. I’m … I …
Ginger, the girl next door, and I are lying on the lawn watching the billowy clouds form patterns as they travel across the blue, blue sky. She points to what she thinks is a horse’s head. I tell her it’s a map of Italy. She giggles when I point to a cloud that looks like a catcher’s mitt. She’s cute with her hair scattered across the grass and her newly developed boobs pointing skyward. I point to what looks vaguely like a kitten. She doesn’t giggle. She doesn’t speak. I turn. She’s old and ugly.
This doesn’t look familiar at all. I can’t be lost. I just came this way. Everyone is going about their lives as if I don’t exist. I look around frantically. Where am I? I ask the kindly looking old lady. She doesn’t hear me. She can’t see me. I reach for her, but she’s not there. I turn. I scream. No one hears me. Maybe I’m not here.
I leap out from the rim of the canyon. What was I thinking? I’m falling, falling fast, but it’s thrilling. The canyon wall races by. This must be a really deep canyon. I look down. There is no ground. I look for the canyon wall. It’s gone too. Ahhhh … this feels good.
Too Much Tequila, Too Little Sunscreen 