One Simple Friday . . .
Written by: Alex Sandell
I don't wake up until nearly three in the afternoon, and end up thinking it's 3 in the morning. I then go back to bed, and sleep until 4. When I wake back up, it feels like I only slept about an hour. For breakfast, I put a bunch of milk in a glass, and pretend that it came from a human, and end up getting all horny. In the middle of my horniness, my brother comes to visit, and brings his dog. It's a wiener dog. The first thing it does is pee on my floor. The odd thing about that, is it gets me craving lemon-lime PowerAde. We go to the store to get some, and an old lady is in the parking lot dancing. I wonder what they put in her muffins, this morning. I figure that she'll probably die pretty soon, and ask my brother if he wants to go to a graveyard, later tonight. Thee graveyard. He likes the idea, and decides we should ask my other brother to come along, too. I don't mind the thought, but still wonder if my other brother's gay. You know, those "other" brothers can do that. I wish he was, cuz I've never had a gay brother. I had hoped I was gay, but it was only a hope, because naked guys just don't turn me on. I can't fantasize over them giving me milk. I think I need to be mothered. It must be due to all those times I got beat up in school. On the way out of the store, I actually meet up with Jeff Rodell, the guy who used to do the beating up. This is eerie. I was kinda hoping I'd see him in the graveyard. Preferably with his name stenciled into a headstone. After leaving the store, we decide to rent a video. We choose L.A. Confidential. We have both seen it, but we figure if we see it a second time, it would add up to four. The lady at the store is the biggest bitch either of us have ever encountered (not counting ex-girlfriends). She embodies evil. I wonder if she's married to Jeff Rodell. On the way out of the store, I ask her why she feels the need to be so nasty. My brother suddenly trips, as I'm asking, and knocks over the Flubber stand-up thing. The evil lady says we need to put it back together. My brother pretends he is hurt, and needs a doctor. I ask if they have any forms to fill out, for in-store injuries. The nasty girl says she can put the stand up herself. We drive back to my pad, picking up my other brother, on the way. This makes me think of the word "gay." I don't think he is. I just want to believe it, so badly. If he was gay, I could say "fag," and not feel homophobic. I'd have a license to "fag." It would be beautiful. We get back to my place, and watch L.A. Confidential. It's still the same as when we had left it. Mmm . . . what a movie. I then eat this microwave fried rice I bought on clearance for .99 cents. Never trust .99 cent fried rice. While you're at it; don't buy food that's on clearance. After the movie, we get into this discussion about Seinfeld, which leads into how weird it would be if you put one end of a tube into one person's butt, and the other end into another person's butt, and then one of the two people farted. The fart would actually go up the non-farting person's butt, and be a fart in reverse. That person could then fart it out, and the fart would be recycled. A reversible-recycled fart. A whole new age of gastronomical thrills. Of course this was my brain child. I need to get out more. So I do. All three of us head off to the graveyard. It's like 30 miles away, and surrounds an old, abandoned church. One of the scariest places on earth, if you're scared of these kind of things. I hope you're not, being that you'll probably be in one for like a billion years. Imagine the pleasure you'll give to the maggots. That always comforts me. Giving maggots pleasure is the reason that I was born. After driving for about 20 minutes (my brother is hopped up on L.A. Confidential), we arrive. We all get scared, and no one wants to go into the church. It's the creepiest of all buildings. The stained-glass windows are broken. This large crucifix lies on the ground. The alter is full of cobwebs. And, the scariest part, at least to me, is this old guestbook. The last entry: April 2nd, 1972. I finally take the initiative, and run over the corpses, up the church steps, and to the door. The door, as always (don't ask me why), is unlocked. After giving my brothers a lively wave, to prove that I'm not a zombie, they crawl out of the car, and slowly tip-toe up to the church. "I hate this," my one brother says. "Me, too," returns the other brother. I laugh. I laugh in spite of myself. I don't really like it much, either. We walk around the creaky old building. Every step causing another floorboard to scream. The place is a mess. We finally make our way up to the holy grail. The organ. This organ has been here since like the beginning of time. Now, why is that holy? It STILL works. No one in town (this is a true story) knows the secret, but all the kids know that the rumors are true. The organ lives on. Who pays the electric bill? Why does it just sit out here, year after year, in a church that shut down in the early seventies? Some people say it's for the dead to play. I think the dead would have better things to do. Still, I guess the living don't. I play the "Jaws" theme on it. It echoes throughout the church. Suddenly, it's not spirits we're afraid of, it's a big, ugly shark. My other brother notices something neither myself, or brother # 1 noticed prior to this evening. There's another door, to the right of the alter. Where does it go? What does it want from us? Only one way to find out. Only one person willing to go first. I open the door. We look up a long flight of stairs. IT'S THE DOOR TO THE FUCKING STEEPLE! I am so impressed, I nearly faint. We decide not to walk up to the top, since we forgot the flashlight, and figure a stair would break, and we'd die, or something. Dying in a graveyard. How novel. So, we leave. The dead people give us an appetite, and we decide to go eat at "Perkins." When we get there, some waitress tells us her name is "Adrian," of all things, and she is our server. No shit. I ask if she likes Seinfeld. She claims to have never seen it. What a concept. Obviously milking us for tips, she keeps this chipper, robotic grin on her face, every second of our encounter. I order a hamburger, well-done. Of course it comes red. Now, the strangest thing is, as I take my third bite, and am in the middle of explaining how odd it is to eat a dead animal, which used to eat, and then digest the dead animal, and shit out something that used to shit, JEFF RODELL comes walking in! This is too much. We decide to leave. "Do you want a doggy-bag?" The smiling waitress asks. "Not as much as you want a tip," I don't say back, although I am tempted. We pay the bill, I nod to Yodelin' Rodell, again, and we are on our way. My brother drops off my other brother, and then drops off me, the brother formally known as myself. I run the wiener dog he came with, back out to him. It's weird having a wiener this big in my hands. I hook up to the 'net, and get an email asking me if I am 19. Why? Because if I am, this girl's sister is pregnant, and wants someone to help raise her child. Am I interested? Hmm . . . I don't know, but I sure could use the milk.
©1998 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved] I wake up in the morning, and find my article stolen. I get out of bed and call a lawyer . . .
Click here to head back to the table of brains!