Vantucky pt.1

      Its Friday. Payday. 9 PM. I feel anxious. Gotta get out of Salem. Dress casual. If they’re dressed really nice, then they’ll look like the uptight ones. Cece calls it ‘Vantucky.’ It's stuck in my head now. I love wordplay. Seventy sweat-soaked dollars to fill up the old Explorer. I want to blow-up every gas station in the country. I'm usually not so concerned with whats on the radio, but tonight I need something I can scream along with as I weave up I-5 like a snake through grass. The ‘What-Ifs’ are killin’ me. 


      The Rose Fest is in full effect down on the Portland Waterfront. It’s a quarter to eleven. I’ve been mostly dry for most of the last six months. Right now, whatever part of my brain that registers thirst is wishing that my saliva glands had PBR on tap. I'm praying to Jesus. I love adventure. This is like an adventure through the wilderness of human relationships. Five whole years, not one single word. I figured she was probably waist-deep in the fat unhappiness of most American marriages by now. I thought it, but I couldn’t picture it. Not the fat part anyway. Then, poof! Just like that, out of nowhere, here she is again. Still beautiful. 

VANTUCKY pt.2

  I'm glad I didn’t wet the couch. Whenever you pass out slightly pickled on someones nice comfy expensive looking couch there is always that really slim outside chance that you might have a dream about swimming carefree in the big wet salty ocean. Or the one where your on an ocean liner in your swimming trunks and you just got out of a nice warm hot tub to go look for a urinal.  Spot check, no moisture. Bone dry. Hooray


      Not sure how many scoops to put in the coffee mate. Weak coffee sucks. Better to go overboard. 

Eggs, bacon, hash browns, wheat toast, ice water. Gimme. Now.

  The girls wake up. Everyone is moving kind of slow, except Ruby. Ruby kind of reminds me of my Grandma Bonnie, bless her heart. I half remember and half imagine my grandma, bright and early in the morning, shuffling around in her antique looking house robe and matching slippers. Dyed, chocolate brown perm grown out into a kinky, cotton looking yarn. If Grandma’s ears had been more floppy and if Ruby could chain-smoke I’d almost consider spending more time researching reincarnation. I used to hate Grandma’s obnoxious poodle ‘Brandi’ but I like Ruby. And I miss Grandma. I had forgotten all about Ruby. Not Grandma though. The girls cant believe I once ate dog on purpose. Ruby doesn’t seem to mind. 

VANTUCKY pt.3

Back in Vancouver, somewhere. Cece’s talking to her Mom on the mobile. An intersection is rapidly approaching. She’s looking out the same window as me, so I know she sees it. Then, just as we’re about to pass under the traffic light in the right lane, she says “Oh yeah, we should probably turn left right here.”

The radio’s playing some happy Jazz swing I ain’t never heard before. Its good, not like that schizophrenic ego-istic garbage everybody pretends they like.