Tuesday August 12, 2008  
 
  My Manhattan Project.  
     
 
It's two thirty six in the morning and I am in my garage working on a contraption that connects to a helium balloon and while I work on my contraption I oftentimes stop and drink from the Budweiser bottle sitting on the cement floor and while my lips are on the bottle I turn my attention to the television and while I'm watching the television I hear the motor of a car and then the open and close of a car door.

A car pulling into my driveway at two thirty in the morning scares me.  Actually, a car pulling into my driveway at any time scares me.  In only a short span of time I've been Baker Acted and had a restraining order laid on me.

I don't like cars that aren't mine pulling into my driveway.

I want to be a little kid again.

Little.

Kid.

Again.

I want to be a little kid again and have the father I never knew (or some adult) point me toward another career and while he or she is pointing me to that career he or she offers to take me to the movies and on the way to the movies he or she steers their automobile into a McDonald's restaurant and together we laugh aloud while we eat cheeseburgers and french-fries then washing it all down with a large Coca-Cola. 

I would have been a good beekeeper.   

I move quickly across the garage floor (like a scared dog on all fours) and switch the television off. 

I'd shut the garage light off too but then they'd know someone was in the garage.  I can hear footsteps and while I'm not moving I'm listening to the footsteps and while I'm listening to the footsteps I'm thinking about the woman that looked me up only a week ago.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

It was nearly midnight and when the knock at the door came I ran up the stairs and hid in a closet but when the knocking didn't stop my fear was quickly displaced by anger and by the time I got to the door I was strong pulling the door open like a real man and when the door was open I said:

"I don't know anything.  I don't have the answer to your questions.  I'm scared just like you.  I hide behind humor.  My dick really is an inch long and I'm a day away from shooting myself.  Goodnight."

Standing at my door was a 23-year-old woman sporting brown shoulder length hair and she had good female hands and she felt safe and though I didn't know her I wanted to throw my arms around her and thank her for believing in me.

Said the 23-year-old:

"I really like your stuff and I thought I'd drop by for a visit."

My garage and the footsteps:

When the footsteps stop maybe twenty seconds pass and when the seconds pass a woman says:

"C'mon Norm.  I know you're in there."

I recognize the voice.  I won't be able to pretend I'm not home so I drink down the rest of the Budweiser and when the Budweiser is gone I say:

"Hang on."

This woman likes me.  She knows I could be much more than what I am and she's scared of what I could become if left to myself for extended periods.  She won't like my newest contraption and she'll probably invite me to join her and her stupid friends for some ridiculous outing.  

When I open the door she smiles and then says:

"How are you?"  

I say:  

"Okay."

She wants me to kiss her and when I don't it get's awkward so she kisses me.

She says:

"Whatcha doing?"

I say:  

"Just working on an invention."

She says:

"Another invention?"

I say:

"Yep."

She says:
 
"A bunch of my friends are going out this coming Friday they'd love it if you'd come along and I'd love it too.  C'mon Norm."

I say:

"I can't."

She says:

"What else is new."

Right about now she'll begin her very thorough inspection of whatever it is that I happen to be working on.

She says:

"What's this?"

I say:

"It's something I'm working on."

She says:

"It's smells like poop, Norm."

I say:

"It's a battery operated timer that is connected to a tiny electronic igniter and below that is a big bag full of real shit.  It all get's connected to three large helium balloons."

She says:

"This is your invention?"

I say:

"Uh huh."

She says:

"Your invention is a bag of shit and a couple of balloons?"

I say:

"A big bag of shit."

She says:

"A big bag of shit."

I say:

"If I've calculated the wind correctly the balloons will be over Manhattan in two days at which point the battery powered timer that I preprogrammed will ignite the small powder charge which will burn through a string and when that string is burned through the big bag of shit will be released."

She has crossed her arms and she is looking at me and maybe ten seconds pass and when the seconds have passed she says:

"A bag of shit and a couple of balloons."

I say:

"Big bag of shit."

She says:

"This is stupid."

I say:

"Try to imagine a person in Manhattan and they're yawning and their head is tilted back and before they have a chance to close their mouth my big bag of real shit falls into it."

She says:

"Why are you saying real shit?  Is there such a thing as fake shit?"

I say:

"Real human shit.  I was hoping that maybe you had to go."

She says:

"I'm outta here."

I say:

"At 10,000 feet my big bag of shit will be reaching speeds in excess of 300 miles per hour."

She says:

"You're the big bag of shit."

I say:

"If I change my mind about Friday night I'll ring you."

She says:

"Yeah you do that Norm."


 
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