Wednesday June 20, 2007
	Greeting cards and other inventions.
	"Take a look at these," I say. She says: "What are they?" I say: "They're greeting card ideas I'm submitting to Hallmark and if they don't go for them then I'll probably print a hundred of them and put them on the Hallmark display rack at Wal-Mart myself." She's good to look at and lives nearby. She says: "You're so talented, Norman." "I appreciate that," I say.  While she's reading and examining my greeting cards I'm tending to another invention with regards to the Virginia Tech shooting.  Almost immediately she says: "You can't be serious." I say: "What do you mean?" She's looking into my eyes and not saying anything and when she's done looking she inhales and then exhales and when all the air is out of her lungs she reads one of my greeting cards aloud: "I'd like to bash your fuckin' head in for filing a restraining order against me especially since I've never laid a hand on you, whore.  Hope you and your big dicked Chicano enjoy my house." I say: "Bitches have abused this restraining order thing.  I just gotta convince Hallmark." She says: "Bitches?" I say: "There's a big market for a card like that." She says: "It's filled with profanity and violence and racism and nobody is gonna buy a card like that." I say: "When the fuckin' world ends men like me are gonna knock chicks like you unconscious using unopened cans of Campbell's soup and then while you're knocked out we're gonna pork you as we eat from the can using just our fingers."  She says: "What are you talking about?" I say: "Read another one, honey." She tilts her head down and reads aloud another of my greeting cards: "Remember that time your parents were away and how I came by your house with flowers and candy and you weren't expecting me and my heart was racing 'cause I couldn't wait to see you and when I looked in the big glass window expecting to see you asleep in front of the fireplace I saw you getting fucked on all fours by an extremely muscular black man on the handmade Indian rug I bought for your parents. She says: "Are you feeling okay Norm?" I say: "These are cards for the world we live in today and people will relate to them." She says: "Is this some kind of joke?" I say: "Read the last one." "Is it like the others?" she says. I say: "C'mon, sugar." The good to look at girl that lives near your correspondent reads the last greeting card aloud: "It's your birthday!  Remember that time I came over on your birthday?  You didn't know that I paid to have the burned out transmission on your Camaro fixed.  It cost me over two thousand dollars and I put it on my charge card.  I knocked on your door but you didn't answer so I went around back and that's when I saw you being eaten out by that guy you said was, "Just a friend."  You didn't see me so I got back into your car and I pushed the gas pedal to the floor and when I hit 50 miles an hour I threw the car in reverse.  I did this again and again 'til smoke from your new transmission came up through the rubber boot at the base of your stick shift lever.  When the motor mounts broke because of the extreme back and forth motion the engine lunged forward maybe two feet pushing the spinning fan blade into your radiator and there was a lot of noise and steam and even the hood popped open and that's when I opened the door and left your car right where it had stopped.  It took me seven years to pay off the $2100 and I figure that with interest and all the other charge card fees it actually cost me $14,735.  You greasy whore I loved you."  I say: "What do you think?" She says: "I gotta go Norm." PREVIOUS   HOME   NEXT