FireVaney

Lome   They give you a choice of soup, salad, or coleslaw.  I chose the coleslaw.  They serve it to you all by itself.  A plate of it.  Trigg A plate?  Not a dish?  Like a saucer -dish?  Lome   All by itself.  A dinner plate.  A mountain of coleslaw.  Trigg   Why not get a salad? Lome   I figured it’d come with the meal.  You know, on the side .  Trigg That is the usual way.  Lome It wasn’t bad, the coleslaw.  Trigg You’d think a plate of it all by itself would have to be pretty good.  Lome Still, didn’t really work.  A big plate of it.  All by itself.  Trigg You’d think it’d be common knowledge.  Commonly understood.  As a side .  Lome Not like I was expecting greatness .  It’s coleslaw .  Cabbage and mayo.  Right?  Trigg It’s Dutch. “Koolsla.”  Lome   How is that useful?  Trigg I dunno.  Conversation starter?  Lome...

Start: Now. Do it. See the way. Now. In the apple orchard. No. The “Old Orchard.” Nothing “old” about it. Nary an apple to be found. Save for in a pie. And even then. Artificial flavor. Right? I dunno. Ask that clown over there under the “golden arches.” Ah, but the old “Old Orchard”? The way it used to be? No. Now. The way it is. The way it was… you don’t want that. That was lame. That’s when hardly anybody went there. But now? Good luck finding a place to park. And they keep building. And the new owners — they’re Australians — they don’t even want to call it “Old Orchard” anymore. They’ve got their corporate name taking prominence. They want to be the Six Flags of giant shopping malls. Plus: They don’t dig on word “old.” Who does? Just like Oldsmobile. What most folks don’t know, I’ll bet, is that there was a guy named “Olds.” According to Wikipedia, his name was Ransom E. Olds. That’s some first name, huh? So the name, the car company’s name, it had nothing do to with nostalgia for ...

I suppose it wasn’t the worst Thanksgiving I’ve had.  The worst Thanksgiving was the one I spent in my walk-in closet of an apartment way up north, where the turkey that night came from a Swanson’s “Hungry-Man” TV dinner. I watched Gone with the Wind [on VHS] for the very first time. I think I cried a little, but not as a result of watching that sappy epic.  I spent last night with Cindi in her (much nicer) walk-in closet of an apartment. We ate a real Thanksgiving meal and watched X-Men , part of Beetlejuice , part of Commando , all of Lethal Weapon , and all of a corny kung fu flick called The Last Dragon . *   24 November 2000  * [Questions, questions: Had Cindi made the meal herself? More importantly, did I get laid? Why can’t I recall?] 

A fellow tenant placed a fig tree in the lobby. Shortly thereafter, somebody took it. I never saw the tree, but I did see the sign. It was posted, presumably, where the tree had been placed. The sign demanded the return of the tree. I could not tell you if the tree-giver had secured permission from the landlord to place the tree in the lobby in the first place. I doubt it. This isn’t a building full of neighborly people, as far as I can tell. It’s a twelve story building full of strangers who don’t give a damn about disturbing their neighbors with the blasting of music or the late-night cries of sexual climax. While the lobby is spacious, the apartments here are all fairly small. The place shares some of the characteristics of a modestly priced hotel of the early twentieth century. But what sort of tree-lover would take a tree he or she presumed was up for grabs, and then, recognizing the error, not return it?  26 March 2001

Some of you wait at the designated pickup counter for your drinks. Many of you don’t. Never mind the sign above the counter. (It’s the rustic slab of faux-wood that hangs from two chains and spells out the word, “PICKUP.”) But, I dunno, maybe you’re not one to look up at anything… other than a posted menu. Or maybe you suffer from chronic neck pain. But then also never mind the cashier who directs you to said pickup counter. A number of you will, instead, grab a table (granted, they are scarce, given how busy we are) and wait there until I shout out your drink(s). This is fine. Those of you who note that the pickup counter is in close proximity to the restrooms may promptly choose to relieve yourselves. (It’s almost as if, whenever a toilet presents itself, some of you will automatically think that the time is right to drain your bladder and/or empty your bowels.) A few of you, immediately upon paying, will bolt straight for the pickup counter and stare at me with such extreme inten...

What’s the worst that could happen? Yeah, okay, so maybe she works for the Russian mafia. That’s unlikely, you understand. Could be she’s looking for permanent residency—or whatever they call it. As you might’ve heard, those Russian chicks, they’ll go through A LOT to get what they want. ‘Least that’s the perception. Says she’s “spontaneous,” huh? This is a good thing, yeah? You like spontaneity, no? Who doesn’t like spontaneity? The dude that doesn’t dig spontaneity, who wants him around, huh? Come on, really, what’s there to lose? I know, I get it, I hear ya. You’re troubled. You’re concerned. She’s the only one outta—what?—a hundred seventy matches to reply to your, uh, your uh, “invitation to mingle”? Dude: Eyes on the prize, right? You’re lookin’ for fun. Amirite? Make a few friends, isn’t that what? Lookin’ for a “fuck buddy.” Or two. Or three. Amirite? No? Yeah? No? C’mon. What if maybe that’s all she’s looking for, too? Just keep it light, man. Like The Chairman si...

Characters : GRANDPOP a retired accountant; FITZ VANNI, his “caregiver.”  Scene : The “study” in GRANDPOP’S house.  AT RISE : Early morning. FITZ VANNI, at the desk, writing in his notebook. Enter GRANDPOP. FITZ VANNI puts down his pen.  GRANDPOP    Couldn’t sleep.  So I took a second Melatonin.  Then, I slept.  That’s why I’m running late.  FITZ VANNI   You’re running late, huh?  GRANDPOP   I’m running late.  FITZ VANNI   (brief pause)  What are you running late for?  GRANDPOP   (subdued chuckle)  Good question.  (FITZ VANNI nods, smiles, and returns to the first draft of the day’s, or some future day’s, blog post. GRANDPOP moseys over to the newspaper that waits for him on the sofa.)  (LIGHTS FADE)  18 August 2004

Upon stamping the life out of the aforementioned roach, I sprayed my place end to end with Raid Max, replaced twelve roach baits, and sprinkled boric acid along the threshold along the door to my apartment. After that, I tried to eat my chicken burrito (which, by then, was cold). Whilst nibbling and chewing and reluctantly swallowing, I contemplated the purchase of a plug-in pest repelling doohickey. Such doohickies supposedly emit bursts of sound that drive certain unwanted critters away. It is unclear (to me) if said doohickies target all pests or just mice. Either way, after prolonged exposure, might such a doohickey scramble the neurons of my own brain? In light of these aforementioned cogitations I’ve elected to put off said purchase. Even so, the day may come when I make the purchase anyway. If the liberal use of insecticide doesn’t give me cancer, then the plug-in doohickey will surely drive me mad. I think you’ll agree, if given the Hobson’s choice, that madness is generally pr...

Following another full day of standing on my feet and pulling endless shots of espresso and steaming gallons of milk, I came home to find a roach lying on the metal rim of my bathroom sink’s drain. If you’re a plumber, or you know one, you might call said metal rim a “flange.” I am not a plumber. I do not know any plumbers—not personally, nor professionally. But, occasionally, I like to be accurate. So I looked it up and there you have it: “flange.” You’re welcome. It was a fat one—the roach, not the flange—nearly more than half as big as a Hot Wheels Redlines Porsche 917. (I own more than several.) I haven’t seen a live roach since last August, when I signed the lease on this walk-in closet with a kitchenette, toilet, sink, and tub. This roach on my sink’s flange, although on its back, was very much alive. Methinks it was playing dead. Upon laying eyes upon it, I gasped and leapt across the kitchenette’s floor and swiped my steal blue bottle of Raid Max from its home on the far corner...