Nathaniel Monroe Gets Crushed by His Fridge

It was a normal Monday morning as Nathaniel Monroe sauntered into the kitchen in his cotton robe.  Bacon sizzled on the stove,  a pot of freshly brewed coffee sat waiting for him on the counter, and the classifieds were neatly folded on the table.  Everything was as it should have been for him as entered the kitchen followed by his black cat, Whiskers.  After pouring himself a cup of coffee he lumbered up to the large stainless-steel fridge in search of his morning yogurt.  A note from his wife was stuck to the door.  Nathaniel stood in his robe and took a sip from his mug, staring at the note for a few seconds before picking it up.

Nate, I’ve left the classifieds on the table and highlighted jobs of interest for you.  Please look them over and make some calls.  And don’t forget to talk to someone about the floor.  The mold on the wood is getting worse. Love, Katie.  P.S.  Out of yogurt.  I’ll run to the store on my way home...unless you can find the time today to go yourself...
That last part was underlined in red at the bottom of the page.  

Perturbed, Nathaniel yanked on the handle and heard a loud crack.  He looked down, startled, to see the wood flooring beneath him cave in.  His glass mug shattered on the floor as he lost his balance.  The fridge lurched forward and slowly fell.  

“Oh god,” He said as he stumbled backwards, stepping on shards of the broken mug.  Whiskers hissed and ran from the room.  The fridge fell towards him as he placed both hands against the front of the door attempting to stop it.  A puddle of coffee and blood formed around his feet.  He slipped and landed on his back.  His head hit the floor with a dull thud and his kitchen flashed bright white.  Jars and tupperware banged around inside.  In slow motion, he watched as the fridge fell on top of him, crushing his legs and pinning him to the ground.    The handle dug into his stomach making it difficult to breathe.   Blood smeared the floor around his head as he gasped for air.

Dazed and unable to move anything but his head and arms, Nathaniel lay In the middle of the kitchen staring up at his stove.  Somewhere above his head the bacon sizzled as the steel fridge crushed him from the chest down.  Placing his hands on the front of the fridge Nathaniel pushed hard trying to lift it off of him.  A sharp pain shot out from his sides as he cringed and grabbed at his ribs, letting the weight crush down on him again.

The smell of bacon filled the air as crackling from the stove grew louder.  Drops of milk and chocolate syrup trickled out of the door onto the floor beside his head.  Cautiously, Whiskers came back into the kitchen, her head low, examining the situation.  She walked up to the milk and drank it, her tongue lashing out in short, quick motions.  

“Whiskers, go, get help girl.  Do something,” Nathaniel waved at the cat as she continued to drink.  “Whiskers, help!”  He swiped at her head.  

Whiskers hissed and bit his index finger before running away.

“Goddamned cat.” Nathaniel pulled his hand back and saw a trickle of blood running down his hand.

Katie was allergic to cats but Nathaniel had insisted they get one over a dog.

“All dogs do is shit and eat,” He’d said, “cats are little trouble at all.  They hardly even notice you.  Trust me, a cat would be a better fit for this home than a dog.  I’m doing this for the both of us.”  But at that moment, being crushed by his fridge in the middle of his kitchen, Nathaniel wished nothing more than for Whiskers to magically transform into a golden Collie, the kind of dog he could tell to run for help.

Nathaniel dug into the pockets of his robe in search of his phone but came up with nothing.  His eyes scanned the room and found it perched on the counter next to the stove, just out of reach.  He extended his arms, desperately grasping for it but it was useless.  Sighing, he dropped his arms to the floor.  

The room grew warmer.  Tiny beads of sweat formed on his forehead.  A tiny sting on his arm alarmed him and he flung it wildly in the air.

“Ah, what the hell?”  He looked over to see a faint red winding line coming up from between the floor all the way to the syrup next to his head.  Nathaniel squinted his eyes and could see the syrup teaming with tiny red specks.  Hundreds of them.  Another sting, this time on his eyelid.  Then ten more up and down his arms and legs.  

A note from yesterday stuck out in his mind.

Nate, did you hear back about the job yet?  Please give them a call back.  Employers like to see applicants taking the initiative.  I’ll see you tonight, call me and let me know what you want for dinner.  Love, Katie.   P.S.  I saw ants on the cup of yogurt you left on the counter.  Run to the store and pick up some spray to take care of the things.  

Nathaniel shook his head furiously back and forth slapping his face.  His body ached from the stings but he couldn’t budge.  The fridge laid on top of him with no plans of leaving.

  Why had he bought such a large fridge in the first place?  Their old one was perfectly fine.  Sure, it was a little small, but it never got too full.  Except it kept freezing his beer.  Every day he’d open that fridge to find cans of beer that had frosted and burst.  

“Honey, do you really think it’s a good idea to buy a new refrigerator?  Especially at this cost?  You just lost your job.  I promise, we can get one later, maybe for Christmas.  But I really don’t think it’s wise to spend our money on one now,” Katie had said as they stood browsing the appliances at the store.

“Yes, in fact I do.  Why do you keep bringing up my job anyways?  I’ve heard enough about my goddamned job.  And anyways, do you know how much beer that old piece of shit has ruined?  The amount of money we’d save on beer alone is worth the purchase,” Nathaniel said just before waving down a sales associate.

“I don’t drink beer,” Katie said quietly.

“Yeah, well I’m sure it freezes your  wine coolers or whatever too.  I’m doing this for the both of us.  It’ll be good for the home.”

At the cash register Nathaniel’s credit card was declined.  He motioned to Katie’s purse.  “Give me the other one.  The gold one.”

Katie looked down holding her purse delicately in her hands.  “The gold one is for emergencies only Nate.”

Nathaniel swiped the purse without saying anything.  He dug around impatiently in search of the card carelessly throwing lipstick and receipts to the ground.  Eventually the entire bag was overturned as he spilled the remainder of its contents to the floor.  “Ahh, there it is,” He reached down, took the card, and threw the purse back to Katie.  She held it to her chest as she bent down to gather the rest of her belongings.

Nathaniel’s thoughts were interrupted by the terrifying yet delicious smell of something burning.   He looked up to see smoke rising from the stove.  He squirmed trying to free his body as the bacon sizzled loudly.  Again he pushed against the fridge.  Again his arms gave way as the fridge pressed harder against his chest.  He could no longer feel the stings from the ants.  They were still there, crawling up and down his body, but he was numbed from the pain.

Tempted by the smell of bacon, Whiskers walked back into the kitchen.  

“Fuck you cat,” he said.  Whiskers glanced over uncaring and then looked up at the stove.  She jumped onto the counter and pawed at the handle of the pan.  It inched away from the burner.

Nathaniel’s eyes widened, “Wait, good Whiskers.  Good cat.”  He calmed and chuckled.  “That dumbass cat might be good for something afterall.”

Soon, Whiskers had pawed the bacon off of the flame, however the pan continued to move.   Nathaniel could see first an inch of the smoking pan.  Then two inches.  Then three.  He could do nothing but look up in horror as the pan inched further and further over the edge.

“Whiskers no, stop.”  The pan teetered perilously above his head, bacon, grease, and all.  Whiskers’ tail swung back and forth over the side of the stove and Nathaniel regretted not feeding her this morning.  

With one last push of the handle Whiskers sent the pan falling to the floor.  Nathaniel shielded his face with his hands as it turned over mid-air.  Red-hot grease splashed across his hands and face.  It sizzled and smoked.  The pan hit the floor with a bang and sent pieces of bacon flying across the kitchen.   Nathaniel cried out in pain as his flesh bubbled.  His eyes burned and his head smoked.  

The kitchen went black as if the day had turned to night.  His eyes were open but he could see nothing.  Nathaniel blinked twice, hard, and tried to focus.  “My eyes, I’m blind!”  He screamed as he rubbed his face.  “I can’t see!  Whiskers you...fuck you Whiskers!”  Nathaniel slammed his fists on the floor and started to cry.  Tears fell from his grease-stricken eyes.  Between sobs he could hear Whiskers picking at the bacon.  This only made him feel worse.  

It had been six months since the last time Nathaniel had cried.  Outside of his office complex he stood holding a small cardboard box.  The words “Mr. Monroe. Belongings,” were scribbled along the side in permanent marker.  It was cold and the sky was gray as he placed the box on top of his car.  He fumbled in his pockets for his keys and dropped them on the ground.  His phone rang and he answered.

“What is it Katie?” He bent over to pick up his keys.

“I was thinking about dinner tonight.  I love that place with all the fish tanks.  They’re so beautiful with all of the colors.  The reds and yellows and blues.  Do you think maybe we could get a table next to the fish?  That way we can watch them while we wait for-”

“We’re not going to any fucking fish place.  We’re not going anywhere.”

There was a long pause followed by hushed sniffles.  “But, it’s my birthday.  I thought it would be fun to-”

“I said no,” Nathaniel’s voice cracked, “ We need to save money.  And besides, I read something about fish and mercury or whatever.  It would be good for the both of us to stay home.”

An even longer pause.  “Please, we don’t have to have fish,” she spoke quietly, “I bought this nice dress and these earrings I thought you’d like.  Nate, it’s my bir-”

“And why the hell are you spending our money on shit like that?”  He yelled and hung up the phone.  

Inside his car Nathaniel sat, his belongings occupying the passenger seat.  Thunder rang out as a drizzle of rain fell gently on the windshield.  A lump in his throat grew large.  He swallowed hard, turned the ignition, and headed home.  

Minutes passed, maybe half an hour, and the weight of the fridge was unbearable.  

“I’m going to die,” he whispered, “this is how I’m going to die.  No Job, hungry and alone.  I’m go-”  A door opened.  Someone had walked into the house.  High heels clicked in the distance.

“Katie, is that you?”  His pulse quickened.

The footsteps grew louder.  “Oh my god Nate!”  Katie’s voice rang out through the living room. “What happened?”  She ran into the kitchen and dropped something onto the floor.  

“I don’t know, this damned fridge.  Just help me get it off me.” 

Katie knelt down, her voice in his ear.  “Oh my god and your face Nate.  Jesus it’s all burnt.”  She brushed his hair through her fingers.

“I know, I can’t see.”

Katie stood up. The stove top clicked off.  “I’m so glad I forgot my phone in the bedroom.  I was halfway to work when I turned around.”

Nathaniel had never been happier to hear his wife’s voice in his life.  Hell, he’d even take her to the restaurant with all the fish once everything healed up.  “Okay, on the count of three I’m going to push.  You pull it on your side and I think we can get it.”

Silence followed except for the sound of papers rustling.  “Katie, where are you?  On the count of three okay?”

Her voice was further away.  “The classifieds are still here on the table.  You didn’t even open them.”

“What?”  Nathaniel said confused.  “Oh, right, I was going to read them just as soon as I ate.  Please Katie help me damnit.”

She sighed and walked back over to the fridge.  “Okay, sorry.”

“Alright, now on the count of three,”  Nathaniel placed his hands on the door and laughed.  “You know, it was probably my fault Katie.  I read your note, the one you taped to the fridge, and I was pretty pissed that we were out of yogurt.”

“What?”  Katie said with a tinge of agitation.

“Yeah,” He laughed again, “You know how I like my morning yogurt.  And then I thought about how I’d have to wait all day until you bought some on your way home.  I was so mad I think I pulled the door too hard.  You were right, that mold I guess had gotten pretty bad.  It split the wood flooring and down came the fridge.”  

Katie was silent.

Nathaniel continued, “Okay, so on the count of three you pull.  One.  Two.  Three.”  He pushed as hard as he could but the fridge didn’t budge.  “Katie, I know you’re weak but you really need to try here.”  He heard nothing.  “Katie?”  Still nothing.  Whiskers walked back in and licked the grease from his face.  She sat and purred and licked. “Fuck Whiskers get away!”  Nathaniel pushed her hard.  She hit against the wall with a thud and ran off.

He could hear Katie shuffling above him.  One shoe hit the ground.  Clap.  And then another.  Clap.  Katie grunted.  Her bare feet slapped against the countertop.

“What’s going on?”  His voice quieted.

 There was the sound of steel bending.  The weight of the fridge seemed to double and it became nearly impossible to breathe.  

“Katie,” it was hard to speak.  “What the hell are you doing?  Help me.”  It felt as if something else was pressing against him as well.

Somewhere high above him she spoke.  “You need to help yourself.”  

Nathaniel’s eyes bulged from his skull.  Tears streamed down his face as he slapped the sides of the fridge unable to breathe.  “Please.  No,”  He tried to speak but no sound escaped his lips.

Katie’s voice was strong with anger and fury,   “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

Something cracked in Nathaniel’s chest and he tasted blood on his lips. Tears stopped running down his face.  His arms fell to his side as the room grew cold. Yogurt and beer passed through his mind followed closely by death.  

Memory Loss and Viagra

Memory Loss and Viagra

I pop the blue pill in my mouth and stand at my bathroom sink, staring down at my junk.  How long was this supposed to take?  Aimee, or was it Mary?  Well she’d be here in an hour and I have to be ready.  Ready for what?  Things go a little hazy and I see the bottle of pills in my hand.  Right.  But nothing’s happening.  I should have read about this stuff before I took it.  The only thing the guy told me was that I wasn’t supposed to take it in conjunction with any other medication.  When I brought up the Memantine I was prescribed for my memory loss he took it away.  There was shouting and pleading and somehow I got the pills.  

I look down at my dick again.  It hangs between my legs, flaccid and sad, so I down another pill for good measure.

I tried going through my doctor but he refused, telling me taking both at the same time would be dangerous or severe or something.  A friend of mine, he knew this guy that sold the stuff.  I bought twenty or maybe twenty-five.  I could have sworn it was twenty five but the bottle feels a little light.  Probably ripped me off.  Can’t trust anyone these days.

 
I see my clothes lying in a pile on the bathroom floor and move to pick them up.  A bottle of pills rattles in my hand and I look down.  One’s not doing the trick.  Better down another.  I swallow hard and move to get dressed again.  

I’m fully clothed and hear chimes in my pocket.  It’s from an unknown number and I want to ignore it.  Something tells me I should pick it up and I answer with hesitation.  

She says her name is Aimee, and she’s running a little late.  I see the pills on the counter and remember about the sex.  I tell her to take her time and hang up the phone.  My crotch feels a little funny and I rub it before leaving the bathroom.  

There’s a bottle of red wine on the kitchen table.  I take it and pour myself a glass.  Probably for Mary, I guess.  The wine is bitter.  The aroma fills my head and I relax.  Two more glasses and my head feels large.  I stand up for another and feel my dick, hard, pressing against the front of my pants.  My heart is pounding in my chest and I remember something about Martha and pills.  I try to focus but I can feel my pulse beating in the head of my dick and I run to the bathroom.  

I haven’t been this hard in years.  My pants fall to the ground and I lean over the toilet, furiously yanking my junk.  I see bare-breasts and blue skies.  My fists pounds against the wall as my legs go weak.  Beads of sweat cover my forehead and a dribble of spit falls from my mouth.  

My head is swimming as I stagger, half naked, to the sink and wash my hands.  I glance at a bottle of pills sitting on the counter.  They look funny and I can’t remember when my prescription changed to blue.  I pick one up and squint.  Pfizer, is imprinted on its side.  I shrug my shoulders and down the pill before putting my pants back on.  My dick is still hard as hell.  It’s sticking straight out and it looks like I have a gun in my crotch.  

I taste wine on my breath and feel a little drunk.  My legs are far apart as I waddle into the kitchen.  I should probably call my doctor about this.  The doorbell rings and I drop my phone.  I duck behind the table and look towards the front door.  It’s a beautiful young girl, dressed in a tight black dress and long red heels.  Must be the wrong house.  If I answer the door like this, with my raging hard-on, she’d probably call the cops.

I stay crouched behind my table and now my dick is pressing hard against the zipper of my

pants.  It hurts but I can’t get up for fear of her seeing me.   My phone chimes and I lunge to silence it.  I fall flat on my stomach and the floor smashes into my dick.  I feel it bend and snap and I let out a sharp cry of pain.  A girl is on the other end, she says her name is Aimee before I hang up on her.  

A stain of blood is growing on my pants as I roll over onto my back.  I’m panting and sweating.  The girl at the door sees me now.  She looks concerned as she pulls her phone out of her purse.  My phone chimes again.  I don’t pick it up and now I see her walking away.  I stare up at the ceiling and close my eyes.

Toast

          Toast

  Jonathan Miller

            Edward Thompson always said that the most important part of any breakfast was the toast.  Without it all you would have is coffee and eggs and really, who wants that?  Edward prepared his breakfast on this particular day dressed in his finest black slacks and a rented dress coat his mother had picked out for him.  His brown hair was slicked back with a slab of grease and he was sporting his finest aftershave.  
         

   Normally he’d be cooking for two, but Julie had woken up before him and left, not to be seen again until the ceremony later that afternoon.  Edward fried his eggs and warmed the coffee, and then turned his attention to the toaster, a small white box with a plastic lever.  He methodically placed a slice of bread into each slot and pressed down with a delicate touch.  

As he stood in the kitchen waiting for the toast to rise to a golden brown perfection Edward thought to himself about his wedding.  After years of badgering from his mother he finally decided, or rather she decided, it was time for him to settle down.  It was fine with him really, he was sick of hearing how he was thirty-five and still without a family.   Without a steady job or any ambitions.  He wasn’t sure where his mother got all that.  Working at the local grocer was fine when he was seventeen, what was so bad about it now?

Interrupting his thoughts was a curious smell, the smell of something a little too done.  Edward glanced at the stove, the eggs looked about right.  His eyes then darted to the coffee pot, which had stopped dripping and was ready to be poured.  Finally, they landed on the toaster. Staring back at him were two pieces of what once resembled toast.  At some point these slices of bread were cooking in the toaster.  There was probably a couple seconds where they were cooked to perfection, and then they kept toasting.  Concerned, Edward rushed to the charcoaled remains and quickly removed them.  He placed them on a plate and sat at the kitchen table.  

Contemplating his next move he glanced at the clock and remembered the strict order of events that had been planned out for the day.  Edward fumbled around in his coat pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper reading “Wedding Itinerary” scribbled in his mother’s handwriting.  It was a bulleted list of the day’s agenda.  On it were short descriptions of everything that had to be done.  Glancing down he noticed he had already missed bullet number one:

“10:00 AM – Brunch at the Waffle House.  Don’t be late Edward!”  The words “Don’t be late” were furiously underlined in red.

  Annoyed, Edward folded the paper and placed it back in his coat, returning his attention to the most important part of any breakfast.  He glanced at the clock and figured he’d already missed the brunch.  That gave him another couple of hours before he was to recite his “I do’s”.  He stood up and walked over to the pantry and pulled out a fresh loaf of bread.  Edward turned the dial on the toaster down to the lowest setting, making sure his toast would come out correctly.  

As he placed two more slices of bread into the toaster Edward again stood in his kitchen waiting for them to rise.  In his pocket his phone began to ring.  He flipped it open and answered.  On the other end was his mother.

      

      “Eddie where are you? Are you ok?” She said in her shrill, high-pitched voice.
            

“Hey ma, I’m fine, I slept in is all.  Sorry I missed breakfast”
        

    “Brunch Edward, it’s called brunch,” His mother explained with a hint of concern and annoyance.  “Didn’t you even read the itinerary I wrote for you?”
          

  He slipped his hand in his pocket and felt the paper.  “Yeah Ma, it’s right here.  Look I’m sorry, something came up and I wasn’t able to make it.  I meant to call you, it’s just I’ve been so busy this morning, what with the wedding and all.”
          

  His mother’s voice softened. “I’m sorry dear, you know how important this day is for you.  And for me as well, my baby boy is finally getting married.”
            

Edward stiffened and he felt a pain in his stomach.  
         

   She continued, “Anyways, I was just calling to make sure everything was ok.  Don’t forget, be at Sunnyside no later than –“
           

“Two, I got it ma.  Like I said, I have your schedule right here.  Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”
       

     “That’s my boy, don’t be late.  You don’t want to keep your bride-to-be waiting. Julie is such a sweet girl.”
        

    Edward hung up the phone just as he heard that familiar snap from the counter.  Smoke was curling up from the toaster, and once again Edward was left with nothing but burnt remains.   As he walked to the counter Edward became even more concerned.  He folded his arms and stared intently at the small white box.  A bead of sweat slid down from his forehead.
          

  “Goddamnit. Piece of shit toaster,” Edward mumbled to himself as he let out a long deep sigh.

He trudged back to the counter and proceeded to cook slice after slice.   Soon, his eggs hardened and his coffee cooled.  The clock continued to tick, not caring about its owner’s predicament.  An hour later, after the entire loaf had been destroyed he sat at his table and came to a sad, terrifying conclusion.  The toaster was broken and he was to get married on an empty stomach.  

Unfolding the itinerary Edward looked down and saw he was running late for bullet number two:

            “12:00 PM – Leave for Sunnyside.  Easy on the aftershave.”
         

   Picture a place where couples and their families go to get away from it all, a quiet countryside far from the city.  Now fill in the blanks with white folding chairs and bouquets of roses.  Add a few relatives here and there and a grilled chicken dinner.  Voila, one has a wedding.  It wasn’t Edward’s ideal location, he would’ve rather just gone to the courthouse and been done with it.  But his mother insisted they have something traditional, and came across Sunnyside in the local newspaper.
        

    Defeated, Edward left the kitchen and grabbed his keys.  He glanced in the bathroom mirror hastily making sure he looked presentable before leaving the house.  His mother wanted to ride with him to Sunnyside, but Edward convinced her that a man should have some time alone before his big day.  He would be meeting her when he arrived at the wedding.  
       

     It was a warm, bright day as Edward got in his car and started the engine.  He drove through the city, taking his time as he passed tall buildings and busy streets.  His stomach grumbled and the toast hung on every thought.  It felt strange, getting married today.  It seemed like any other day, nothing special or out of the ordinary.  Edward wasn’t nervous or anxious, or happy or excited. He was, as some would say, indifferent.

Soon, the tall buildings were replaced with lines of trees, and the busy streets transformed into secluded roads.  Edward’s thoughts shifted to his mother, and he again felt a pain in his stomach.  It was fine with him, really, how she set him and Julie up.  That first blind date went well enough, despite the constant calls from her wondering how everything was going.   He could even stand the daily inquiries of a proposal.  Sure, they went on for a few years, but it was only a bother a few minutes every morning.  But today Edward had an empty stomach and a broken toaster.  And instead of resolving the matter at hand, he was forced to attend a wedding.  This was, to him, more than a slight annoyance.

As he pulled up to Sunnyside and got out of his car, Edward glanced around.  There were a number of cars parked in the lot, one of them being his mother’s.  He walked up to the tent that had been set up for the reception and looked outside to the left.  He could see the guests already sitting, waiting for the wedding to begin.  Unfolding the itinerary once more Edward glanced down at bullet number 3:

            “2:00 PM – Clean yourself up and take a stand at the front, just as we rehearsed.  Don’t forget the ring!”

“Edward there you are!” His mother said as she waddled up from the tent.  “I was worried you’d gotten lost again.”

            Startled, he quickly stuffed the paper into his pocket. “Hey ma, traffic was a mess.  Anyways, I was just gonna duck inside real quick before I had to go up there.”  
       

     His mother walked up to him and took him by the hand. “Yes Eddie, we’d better get you inside, you’re a mess.  And what did I say about the aftershave?  You know, sometimes I swear you just don’t listen.”
            

They both trudged inside the tent and into the dressing room that had been set up.  With a damp handkerchief his mother wiped down Edward’s face.  She then fixed his hair and straightened his coat.  

As they exited the dressing room and headed towards the ceremony they passed a large round table.  On it sat a photo of Edward and Julie, holding each other and staring lovingly into the camera.  Next to the picture a sign stood reading, “In Celebration of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.”  Scattered around the table were neatly wrapped gifts the guests had brought.  One of them caught Edward’s eye and forced him to stop.  

            “Eddie, what are you doing?  Everyone’s waiting.”
          

  Edward pulled his hand from his mother and walked over to the table in a daze.  He pushed the gifts aside and picked up a large square box.  It was wrapped in red and tied with a bow.  It weighed about right, not too heavy, not too light.  He placed his ear to the box and gently shook it.  A quiet rattle rose from beneath the wrapping paper and visions of toast danced in his head.
          

  Laughing, his mother said, “That’s just like you, can’t wait to open your presents.  There’ll be time for that later.”  She walked over to Edward and grabbed his hand.
         

   Edward took the gift under his arm and awkwardly began to walk again. “Yeah, right, later,” he said as if in a dream.  
        

    “Would you put that down, no need for that now.”
        

    He clutched the box like a boy holding a toy.  “No ma, please, I’m gonna hang on to this one.”  His voice rose.
        

    “Nonsense, give me that.  This is no time to be fooling around with gifts,” his mother said as she grabbed the box from underneath Edwards arm.  She threw it back on the table and it landed with a thud.   “Now hurry up and get to the front, Julie will be out here any minute.”  His mother nudged him towards the ceremony.
         

   He began to walk again, but his stomach growled and it caused him to stop.  
           

“No.  I won’t,” Edward said, “I’m hungry and I need my toast.”
        

    His mother stopped with a puzzled look on her face. “Well, serves you right. You missed the brunch this morning.  If a man can’t keep track of simple appointments, he has no right eatin’ a breakfast anyways.” His mother huffed and tried to pull Edward along, but he stood, firm as a rock.  
         

   “You don’t understand ma, toast is the most important part of any breakfast.  And you always told me you can’t start a day without a good breakfast,” he said without a waiver as he walked back to the table and retrieved the red box.  A smile spread across his face as he turned and began walking back to the parking lot, gift in hand.  

His mother stared in disbelief,  “Where do you think you’re going?  Edward Thompson you get back here this instant!”

“Can’t do it ma, not this time.  I’m goin’ home and makin’ breakfast,” he said as he quickly walked to his car.

His mother, realizing what was going on, rushed in front of him and blocked his way.  “You’re not going anywhere.  I worked so hard for this day and I’m not letting you take it away from me,” her eyes full of fire.

       

     A crowd began to walk up from the ceremony as they noticed what was going on.  Whispers could be heard from the group.  Out of the corner of his eye Edward saw Julie standing in her wedding dress.  Her expressionless face was scanning the situation.
          

  “And what about her Edward,” she motioned towards Julie, “Don’t you love her?!”
          

  Edward locked eyes with Julie and for an instant he waivered.  He stared at her for what felt like forever and then turned to his mother.
         

   “I love toast,” he said as he got in his car and started the engine.   
       

     His mother ran towards the car and banged on the window.  Edward began to drive away, leaving her screaming in his rearview mirror.    

He drove off back down the road, leaving behind the wedding, and his mother, and Julie.  As he drove, secluded roads turned to busy streets, and lines of trees were replaced with tall buildings.  The entire time Edward felt his phone ringing in his pocket.  He had no interest in ever picking it up.   

The sun was low in the sky as Edward returned home.  With the gift in hand he entered his house and went straight to the kitchen.  The eggs sat on the stove, cold and uneaten.  The coffee was still in the pot waiting to be poured.  Edward sat at the kitchen table and unwrapped the gift.  In front of him stood a box with a beautiful stainless steel toaster on the cover.  It had a black rubber lever and four individual slots.  

His heart skipped a beat as he opened it up and took out the toaster.  Without thinking he went to the pantry and retrieved a fresh loaf of bread.  Edward plugged in the toaster and placed four slices into the new appliance.  As the toast cooked he took the eggs off the stove and poured himself a cup of old, cold coffee.  Soon, the toast rose and out came four slices, perfectly cooked and golden brown.  

Edward placed the toast, eggs, and coffee at the table and sat down, exhausted from the day’s events.  Before eating he felt around in his pockets for the itinerary.  He looked down and read the final bullet on the list:

“5:00 PM – Say a toast in celebration of this beautiful day.  Make it short and don’t ramble on.”

Edward crumpled the paper and tossed it across the table.  He raised his coffee and toasted the air.  He took a bite of his breakfast and it crunched that perfect crunch.  He was content.  

Chapter 6: Be Pro-Gay

Chapter 6: Be Pro-Gay

My publisher told me this chapter was a little too controversial and that... aww, who am I fooling?  I don’t even have a publisher.  How did this book get published then, you ask?  Well, I hate to break it to you but what you’re looking at isn’t a book at all.  It’s called a “computer screen.”  The fact that it took you six chapters into this blog for you to figure it out astounds me.

Anywhoo,  in this day and age it’s important to retain a cheerful, happy disposition.  People want to see a company that can really brighten their day.  Be pro-gay.  The general public is sick and tired of the doom and gloom, and any chance for them to be gay should be applauded.  Would you rather see sad people, or people with a huge gay smile on their face? That’s what I thought.

At this point you may be a little confused as to which definition of gay I’m talking about.  Well, to help clarify this point and make it far less ambiguous I have concockted a few scenarios in which you could demonstrate your pro-gay stance.


SCENARIO 1:
You are at the beach wearing a speedo.  While passing out rainbow flyers of your up-and-coming business a man starts to scream.  It seems that a shark has bit him in half and he’s washed up on shore, still mildly conscious.  You run over to him, take off your speedo, and shove it into his mouth.  This mutes his piercing screams and he dies in silence, choking on your less-than-sanitary swimwear.  

At this point you turn to the crowd of bystanders and pronounce “Everything is okay people!  I just wanted everyone to have a gay time and this man was ruining it!”  

You may or may not be arrested for indecent exposure, but you showed the world that your company will not let anything get in the way of public gayness.


SCENARIO 2:

You are at a bar full of men to promote your up-and-coming business.  All of a sudden a fight breaks out and bottles start flying.  Slaps are being thrown and hair is being tugged.  At this point you stand up with a frown on your face and scream to the crowd “Can’t we all just get along?!”  

Few people take notice, and the people that do begin throwing pool balls in your face.  You have balls flying at you from all directions.  Balls are slapping you on the forehead, and a few balls even land in your mouth.
Saddened and bruised you sit back at the bar and drop a roofie into your drink.  Soon after you down the beer you begin to feel a little funny.  A large gay smile spreads across your face and you again stand up to the crowd.

“Can’t we all flust shit abong?!”, you kind of sort of say just before you pass out.

You remember little from the night before and your ass is a little sore, but you can be sure that you made the night just a little gayer.


SCENARIO 3:

You are laying naked in a bed with another man.  You have just been roofied but you don’t remember how and this makes you very angry.  All you wanted to do was promote your up-and-coming business.  

All of a sudden the man next to you wakes up and fondles your penis. You immediately turn the opposite of sad, and become extremely gay.   

You are now very much turned on and you turn and lick the sweaty man's neck. He moans in pleasure and firmly grabs your ass. At this point you reach down beneath the sheets and begin to tickle the large, hairy man’s bal--------


DUE TO UNSAVORY CONTENT, THE REMAINDER OF THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED OR REMOVED AT THE WILL OF THE PUBLISHER.  WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.

From "Life Lessons and Fairytales" - Little Greedy Billy

LITTLE GREEDY BILLY

Little Billy was a young, rambunctious boy who did only what he wanted, rarely listening to the warnings of his parents.  He would eat mud and bugs and anything else he could get his hands on.  Whenever attending the swimming pool Billy would run around and dive in the shallow end.  Over and over again his parents would chide him.  But even the strictest of punishments would fail to have any effect on his behavior.

“Billy, if you do not listen to us, one day you will be very sorry,” his parents would say.

But over and over again Billy did as he wished screaming “I do what I want!”

One day Billy opened up the kitchen cupboard and noticed a large bag of cookies staring back at him.  They were in bright, glowing packaging and were the most delicious cookies he had ever laid eyes on.  Having never noticed them before, Billy was intent on devouring the delightful dessert.

“These cookies are mine!”  Yelped Billy as he hungrily grabbed for the package.

His mother, while cooking a beautiful pot roast, looked disapprovingly to her son and warned “Billy, if you eat those cookies you will spoil your dinner.”

“I do what I want!” Billy responded as he tore open the bag and began to munch away.

“Billy please, if you eat those cookies this dinner will be spoiled,” his mother pleaded.

“SHUT UP YOU COW!” Billy screamed as he continued to eat.  The package shined and shimmered underneath the kitchen light as Billy ate one after another.  Soon, the cookies were gone and the package was empty.  Billy was satisfied and threw the empty, glowing package, carelessly on the kitchen floor.  

A few minutes passed and soon he was again hungry.  Billy’s mother sat the pot roast down on the table and Billy began to scarf down what his mother had prepared.  His mother and father shook their heads and left their plates empty with their arms crossed, staring intently back at Billy.  

Bite after bite Billy devoured the entire pot roast, leaving nothing for his family.  

“I’m full and you are both cows!” Billy said happily as he began to get up from the table.

Just then, however, Billy felt a sharp pain in his stomach.  He grasped it with both hands and abruptly sat back down.

“Oooooooo, my stummie hurts!”

A smile spread across his parents face as they continued to watch in silence.

Billy’s stomach was in more pain than he had ever felt before.  It was as if millions of tiny knives were jabbing at him from the inside.  He doubled over and fell onto the floor screaming in pain.  

“You cows, oooooooooo, help me you cows!”  Billy could hardly think straight as his stomach began to inflate.

Calmly, his mother looked down at her son, “Remember what I told you Billy?  If you ate those cookies you would spoil the dinner.  The dinner went bad the second you ate those cookies.  I warned you about this.”

Billy could hardly comprehend what his mother was saying.  Were those cookies magical? Did they really spoil the roast?  These thoughts raced through his head as the pain became unbearable.  Laying flat on his back his stomach ballooned.  The skin began to tear around his belly-button as blood spewed from his mouth.

“HELP ME!!!!!” He screamed.  The pain was blinding as his stomach grew and grew.  It was the size of ten basketballs now and blood was coating the kitchen walls.  Just as it seemed his stomach would burst Billy let out one last sentence.   “I’M SORRY I ATE THE COOKIES!!!!!”

At that moment the pain seceded and his stomach began to deflate.  Billy whimpered and soon lay on the floor looking more like a normal boy.

His parents, still sitting at the table, glanced at each other with a look of concern on their faces.  His father got up and walked out of the room, leaving his mother at the table.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Billy panted as he lay on his back.  

A few moments later his father walked back into the kitchen, pulling along a large spotted cow.  

“What are you doing?!” Billy asked, incredulously.  

“Teaching you a lesson,” responded his mother.  

His father led the cow over Billy’s face and made a downward motion with the palm of his hand.

“What?!  Please, I said I was sorry!  PLEASE NOOOO!!! PLE-” But just then the cow sat down atop Billy’s face, crushing his skull.  Billy made a suffocating, gurgling noise and after a single loud crack, fell silent forever.  

The cow moo’d and defecated.
“Who’s the cow now?” His mother asked as his parents high-fived.