Atop Mount Eversplash by Christopher M. Bohan
The line to the top of the waterslide seemed endless: heads and inner tubes as far as the eyes could see. Every five seconds the blur of a human being would zip past and a second later their scream of delight would come chasing after them.
A little math, and some generous averages, told Chet it would be at least 40 minutes to the top of Mount Eversplash, but the shouts of glee emanating from the shoots indicated that the arduous ascent might just be worth it. Chet had no one to talk to, no cell phone to hide behind. He felt rather uneasy in groups, and therefore focused on the ride, envisioning the freedom he would soon enjoy.
Never the rebel, or even a rabble-rouser, Chet shed his docile coat today and called in sick - something he had never done before - and made his way to H2-Normous Water Park for a self-inflicted kick in the pants. Chet needed to add a little spice to his life, and this was just the ticket.
Finally at the top, he surveyed the snaking shoots and let out a primal scream that silenced the crowd, for a moment. Then, in a conscious echo, the entire crowd let out a howl. Chet hit the slide and never looked back, trusting that his excitement was following close behind.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Carl's Cheeseburger by Christopher M. Bohan
Carl's cheeseburger was rather dry and the cheese was not melted in the least bit. His French fries were cold and the milkshake had melted, and was now just mostly chocolate milk; warm, chocolate milk. He stared at his lunch for a long time. He had no idea why this had come to pass. Why had he waited so long to eat? Why did the ketchup packet sit unopened? Why was he in prison? Why did he not remember? Then, he remembered.
Carl never felt like eating after visitation day. His children - Cindy, 3 and Charles, 2 - were too much for his heart to take. They were growing up too fast, and not right in front of his very eyes. Their beauty strangled his appetite. Their gentleness burnt his soul. Their eyes forgave his shame.
Every Saturday they brought him lunch and sat in his lap and kissed his cheek. They did not know his past, they only loved him in the present. They did not see gates, nor guards, just a man who looked a little bit like a mirror.
Carl said his grace and ate his cold meal as his joy waved goodbye from the other side of the fence.
Carl never felt like eating after visitation day. His children - Cindy, 3 and Charles, 2 - were too much for his heart to take. They were growing up too fast, and not right in front of his very eyes. Their beauty strangled his appetite. Their gentleness burnt his soul. Their eyes forgave his shame.
Every Saturday they brought him lunch and sat in his lap and kissed his cheek. They did not know his past, they only loved him in the present. They did not see gates, nor guards, just a man who looked a little bit like a mirror.
Carl said his grace and ate his cold meal as his joy waved goodbye from the other side of the fence.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
You're Lucky You're Cute by Christopher M. Bohan
Corinne made a left turn onto Mulberry Street, put the car in neutral, turned the car off and drifted about 500 yards before coming to a stop in front of Cecilia's house.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, in a hushed breath, noticing she had forgotten to turn off the headlights. She saw Cecilia's bedroom lamp click on and off, twice, and knew that the coast was clear. She got out of the car and made her way around to Cecilia's backyard, where she found Cecilia's father sitting in a patio chair smoking a cigarette and laughing a little bit.
Corinne froze.
Mr. Turk spun around in the chair - like a super-villain would do in a James Bond film - and spoke with a cackle, "Hello, Corinne. One: If you are going to sneak up to my house, don't park out front. And two: Don't forget to turn off your headlights. You're lucky you’re cute. A little slow, but cute.”
Cecilia came out the back door and whispered, "Corinne?"
Mr. Turk, spinning around in his chair to face Cecilia, answered, "She's right here, honey. So, where you girls going tonight?"
Cecilia froze.
All was quiet, except for the sound of someone getting out of the pool; Corinne's father.
He spoke as he toweled off, "Come on sweetie, let's go. Thanks for the call, Turk.”
Corinne’s father took the keys from her shaking hand and said, “You didn't leave the headlights on again, did you? How many times I gotta tell ya ‘Turn off the headlights!’ You’re lucky you’re cute."
"Shit!" she exclaimed, in a hushed breath, noticing she had forgotten to turn off the headlights. She saw Cecilia's bedroom lamp click on and off, twice, and knew that the coast was clear. She got out of the car and made her way around to Cecilia's backyard, where she found Cecilia's father sitting in a patio chair smoking a cigarette and laughing a little bit.
Corinne froze.
Mr. Turk spun around in the chair - like a super-villain would do in a James Bond film - and spoke with a cackle, "Hello, Corinne. One: If you are going to sneak up to my house, don't park out front. And two: Don't forget to turn off your headlights. You're lucky you’re cute. A little slow, but cute.”
Cecilia came out the back door and whispered, "Corinne?"
Mr. Turk, spinning around in his chair to face Cecilia, answered, "She's right here, honey. So, where you girls going tonight?"
Cecilia froze.
All was quiet, except for the sound of someone getting out of the pool; Corinne's father.
He spoke as he toweled off, "Come on sweetie, let's go. Thanks for the call, Turk.”
Corinne’s father took the keys from her shaking hand and said, “You didn't leave the headlights on again, did you? How many times I gotta tell ya ‘Turn off the headlights!’ You’re lucky you’re cute."
Brand New Year by Christopher M. Bohan
"Hey, Jill. Hi. Yeah, so, I just purchased my Toy Story 3 IRA from Nike Bank and was thinking of picking up a 7-Eleven Big Gulp down at Bank of America Plaza. Wanna join me? Well, I was thinking of parking in the Nextel Parking Lot next to Frito-Lay Hospital. Well, yeah, I guess it would be quicker to just take the Subway Subway. Should I get off at JC Penney Junction, or AT&T Universe? Sure, yeah, that's right, I could just take the Taco Bell Trolley to Cabbage Patch Street, transfer to the Banana Boat Bus and get off at EZ Pass Plaza...They have a 7-Eleven there, yeah? That's right, it is on the upper level...So, I’ll just take the East Coast Pizza Elevator, or the Dunkin Donuts Escalator. But then I gotta get home, because my sister is going off to school tomorrow. She’s going to Pizza Hut Tech. Yeah, it used to be Penn State. She'll be studying in the GE College of Electrical Engineering. She was going to go to Pfizer, in California, but she thought she might get too homesick. Alright, I gotta run. See you at 7-Eleven. Say, you still want to go the Starbucks Shore this weekend?"
Written: July 31, 2010
Written: July 31, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Tom's Dream by Christopher M. Bohan
When Tom wanted to go shopping, he went shopping. When Tom wanted to sleep, he slept. And when Tom wanted to eat, he ate. But, Tom could never dream.
A day dream here and there, sure, no problem - if he saw a sporty car whiz by as he walked to work he was able to imagine himself behind the wheel, zipping through the side streets of an Italian village with a silk scarf snapping behind him. Yet, every morning Tom awoke with a lament that no cold shower could rinse away. He wished for dreams, but to no avail. He prayed for dreams but received no answer.
His mother used to dream. She would steal into his room in the middle of the night and wake him to share her dreams of floating mountains and birds that ate lollipops and caves of fire. Those were his dreams: waking dreams of a mother's fantasies.
Now, he lies awake in the middle of the night and imagines dreams his mother may have had. Or, he imagines the fantasy she now lives in a world of floating mountains and birds eating lollipops. That is Tom’s dream.
Written: July 30, 2010
A day dream here and there, sure, no problem - if he saw a sporty car whiz by as he walked to work he was able to imagine himself behind the wheel, zipping through the side streets of an Italian village with a silk scarf snapping behind him. Yet, every morning Tom awoke with a lament that no cold shower could rinse away. He wished for dreams, but to no avail. He prayed for dreams but received no answer.
His mother used to dream. She would steal into his room in the middle of the night and wake him to share her dreams of floating mountains and birds that ate lollipops and caves of fire. Those were his dreams: waking dreams of a mother's fantasies.
Now, he lies awake in the middle of the night and imagines dreams his mother may have had. Or, he imagines the fantasy she now lives in a world of floating mountains and birds eating lollipops. That is Tom’s dream.
Written: July 30, 2010
She by Christopher M. Bohan
She by Christopher M. Bohan
She ripped through the sky clawing at Mother Nature with the ferociousness of a tiger and the gentleness of a cashmere sweater. Behind her she dragged a consortium of stars and galaxies no longer undiscovered and set them at her feet with a 'humph' and a primal, silent scream that revealed a throat filled with wonder and love.
She stretched her consciousness and shielded her bust from the chill of the atmosphere. Gracefully, she unzipped her will and stepped out into her recently unknown world, punched delirium in the face and settled into an inquisitive state.
The fight was not over. Once she regained, or originated rather, her sense of self she began her horizontal ascent towards the treasure she sought slowed only by the stars and galaxies still attached to her heel. She set them free without regret as she latched onto life with a clenched fist, a wonder of beauty and the pleasure of a smile.
Written: July 29, 2010
She ripped through the sky clawing at Mother Nature with the ferociousness of a tiger and the gentleness of a cashmere sweater. Behind her she dragged a consortium of stars and galaxies no longer undiscovered and set them at her feet with a 'humph' and a primal, silent scream that revealed a throat filled with wonder and love.
She stretched her consciousness and shielded her bust from the chill of the atmosphere. Gracefully, she unzipped her will and stepped out into her recently unknown world, punched delirium in the face and settled into an inquisitive state.
The fight was not over. Once she regained, or originated rather, her sense of self she began her horizontal ascent towards the treasure she sought slowed only by the stars and galaxies still attached to her heel. She set them free without regret as she latched onto life with a clenched fist, a wonder of beauty and the pleasure of a smile.
Written: July 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Fancy Feast Freak Out by Christopher M. Bohan
Fancy Feast Freak Out by Christopher M. Bohan
He pushed the shopping cart down the aisle with regret and a deep sense that he had never been there before. He gingerly snatched a can of Fancy Feast from the shelf, sniffed it, smelled nothing then turned and whipped the can down the aisle where it passed over the Old Bay display and then lodged itself into a rump roast that lay peacefully in the subliminally violent red meat case.
In a fit of rage he had never felt before he began hurling tins of cat food in every direction. At 3am on a Tuesday the 24-hour Grocery Bag became a war zone, of sorts. A lady shopping in frozen foods took one to the cheek, fell to the ground and was aided by a stock boy who pressed a bag of frozen cauliflower to her swollen, bleeding face.
He was picking up a can of dog food just as the Taser stung him in the back. The current caused his hand to clench and the dog food can burst open sending Alpo all over the display for flea collars as a plea gasped from his mouth, "I don't know. I don't know. Do you hear Mozart?"
Written: July 28, 2010
He pushed the shopping cart down the aisle with regret and a deep sense that he had never been there before. He gingerly snatched a can of Fancy Feast from the shelf, sniffed it, smelled nothing then turned and whipped the can down the aisle where it passed over the Old Bay display and then lodged itself into a rump roast that lay peacefully in the subliminally violent red meat case.
In a fit of rage he had never felt before he began hurling tins of cat food in every direction. At 3am on a Tuesday the 24-hour Grocery Bag became a war zone, of sorts. A lady shopping in frozen foods took one to the cheek, fell to the ground and was aided by a stock boy who pressed a bag of frozen cauliflower to her swollen, bleeding face.
He was picking up a can of dog food just as the Taser stung him in the back. The current caused his hand to clench and the dog food can burst open sending Alpo all over the display for flea collars as a plea gasped from his mouth, "I don't know. I don't know. Do you hear Mozart?"
Written: July 28, 2010
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