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Locked Out
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2011
Twice this week it's happened. Get dressed, lock door, step outside, close door.
Check door to see it's properly locked.
Pat yourself down to ensure you have your keys.
Damn.
Check door to see if you really locked it or if you can force it open with a push.
Pat yourself down again and double check for your keys.
Walk around the house, check the side door, the back door...
Locked.
Try the basement window. Open. And it takes about 5 minutes to force it open, it's a small window, only opens about 10 inches, and another 5 minutes to wriggle through it and drop to the basement floor. I get stuck on first on my genitals, then on my belt, but eventually fall through and work my way upstairs.
The Cursed Wallet
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2210
I've this old Louis Vuitton wallet, I've had it forever, it was a gift.
Not the sort of thing I would buy for myself.
But in the last few years it's started to fall apart. The holder for the drivers license has lost its seam, and the library card and bus tickets have started to burst out of the credit-card slots. There are lottery tickets, dry cleaning receipts and pawn stubs where most people keep their money.
It wasn't made for this sort of abuse.
It's cursed; a wallet, as a gift, is always supposed to have some money in it. This one came empty, and has pretty much remained empty ever since.
One could think of other reasons it's empty, like my erratic work and romantic history, children out of wedlock, poor financial planning, but that would be patent superstition.
Still, I like it. It's a sort of symbol of the decaying aristocracy, the tattier it gets, the more weathered, the more the seams burst apart, the greater my attachment, Louis Vuitton is not supposed to be tatty or worn, it's the wallet of appearances, Louis Vuitton wasn't made for bus passes or library cards, Louis Vuitton customers drive Mercedes and only read books that they've bought...I rather cherish the incongruity of my ownership of it...
The owner of the restaurant, it's the day after the Christmas break, he's asked me a question that necessitates the reaching for my wallet, a pretext, and when I pull it out he notices that it's the same old one I had before the Christmas break, he wonders aloud why I haven't switched to the new one; I hasten to reassure him that it's only a matter of time, I've been busy, and after work when I get home move my essentials into the new wallet.
This new wallet, it came with no money in it, it's cursed.
Mennonite Love Making
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2649
The tablecloth inspires me with what must be a prairie Urban Legend.
That of the Mennonite Love Making.
It goes like this.
The Mennonites, (or Hutterites, or Amish, or pick you minority bible group...) have grown rather inbred.
TO curb this they try to bring in new blood.
They solicit young men at bars, then bring them back to their farms where they're introduced to the "Young Amish Girl"; a breeder chosen by them, and they make love to her through a hole in a sheet. Supervising all this is an Amish man reading from the Bible.
Now, this rumor, as titillating as it is, exists in some form of or another across North America, but while I've heard many variations and heard many people swear as to its veracity I've never met anyone who's actually done it. Or has confessed to having done it might be more accurate.
But a curious urban legend nonetheless.
Crush
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2030
It's Friday night and I've sent everyone home.
Everyone home but her.
She's free to go as well, the others, as soon as they got word, they disappeared. But she's decided to stay. She sits up on the counter in the kitchen.
And I have a bad feeling about this. I have a suspicion.
Still, she betrays nothing, and I tell her she can go, I've got it all covered but she doesn't mind hanging out, keeping me company, and so we make light conversation. About our kids and ex's and other trifles.
It's a little awkward. I don't want to jump to any conclusions but there's the suspicion....
And it would be a really bad idea. It's a small restaurant, everyone is somehow or another related to everyone else, a liaison here would be a marriage into the family...
I've watched her, know her, well enough anyways, to know it wouldn't be a happy marriage.
I think of ways to dissuade her. Change the topic maybe, discuss my abundant and twisted perversions; my heart of darkness, but that wouldn't do it, it never does, it merely piques their interest....
And so we chat lightly, about the weather, smoking, until she's bored of waiting and leaves and I'm off the hook.
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