Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

CARL: This is Carl Drake, play-by-play commentator for NBS Broadcasting, coming at you live from the speaker’s podium at this beautiful commencement ceremony.

TOM: That’s right, Carl. This is Tom Hicks, color commentator for NBS Broadcasting, and it’s my honor to be the keynote speaker for this graduation along with my partner Carl.

CARL: Interesting that they chose to have both of us share the podium and a single speaking slot.

TOM: That’s right, Carl. People seem to assume that we’re some sort of composite organism like the podracer announcer from that godawful Star Wars movie rather than individuals with their own feelings and spouses and debts, figuring that we can split a podium and an honorarium.

CARL: And isn’t that really what brings us here today? You young people out there in the crowd are about to split, to take off those ridiculous wizard robes and move back in with your parents while you try to find the one place in the world that’s hiring art historians.

TOM: That’s right, Carl. I for one remember graduating from this university with a degree in broadcast journalism and looking forward to my first day as an anchor. Two months at KSUL filling in while Jennifer Chatham was on maternity leave for slave labor wages was enough to disabuse me of that notion.

CARL So let me send you forth today with this message: It’s okay to fail. Fail early, and fail often. Why, I bet that out of the three thousand of you before us less than half of you will find jobs in your major, fewer still if we cut out the business majors that will be handed family businesses to suander on a silver platter.

TOM: That’s right, Carl. Only by failing miserably at what you thought you wanted to do an you find a niche where your skills and qualifications will allow you work you can live with every day without the overwhelming urge to soul-kiss a Walther.

CARL For Tom and me, that’s sportscasting–using his broadcasting degree and my PhD in 19th-century British literature to form words that most people ignore in favor of live footage of men irreperably damaging their central nervous systems by using the human spinal column as a battering ram.

TOM: That’s right, Carl. I would go so far as to say that someone who has never failed is the true failure. It’s very meta, if you think about it.

CARL: So Tom and I charge you thusly: go forth and fail often and spectaculy. Try not to get anyone killed in the process. And eventually, with a little luck and a little skill, you may find yourself a vocation you can live with.

TOM: That’s right, Carl. A vocation that allows your tiny alma mater to invite you back as an ersatz commencement speaker after the preferred candidate backs out due to the passage of a bill by your idiot state legislature declaring that Muslims are banned from bathrooms statewide.

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Daniel “Colorado Dan” Upanishads took a deep breath and surveyed his yoga class.

Emmylou Richards’ lotus has wilted as she struggled to keep herself upright while giggling.

John Dushington’s downward-facing dog was chasing its tail as he repeatedly assumed the position only to fall flat and cry out that the force of gravity had it in for him.

Madison Jung’s leotard had slipped away and her half-moon had become a full moon.

Lance Wladziu’s crane was more of a backhoe, with him wheezing about on the floor in between plaintitive cries for burgers and chips.

“Hmm,” said Colorado Dan. “Maybe these Pot Yoga classes still have a few kinks to be worked out.”

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1:23 PM

555-3253 I’m in line for fried chicken

555-3253 They give you your drink up front but you have to wait for your bird

555-3253 Only place on campus serving hot food right now

555-3253 Line’s big enough for a congressman 😀

1:37 PM

555-3253 I hope you’ll bear with me on this epic journey of hope

1:49 PM

555-3253 We lost six men to a mama bear attack during the carpet crossing

1:56 PM

555-3253 I am looking up at the sun streaming through the windows as the ice melts silently in my soda pop

2:11 PM

555-3253 I grunt and pant in the carpeted wilderness. Only the wild animals around me reply.

2:19 PM

555-3253 I will have my vengeance

555-3253 I will track that chicken to the ends of the earth

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And then she cut the sky asunder with the Razor of Dawn, and the clouds fell by the wayside like so much shredded linen. The sword was dull, and its heavy silver metal would not have withstood even a single stroke in combat, but that was not its purpose.

The farmers rejoiced, for their drowning and soggy crops would now be saved by the healing light of the sun. She left the blade with the folk of that place, cautioning them to only use the Razor of Dawn when it was truly needed.

Naturally, that lasted less than a year. Soon, the weak-willed hands into which the blade had been put were cutting away thr clouds every winter’s day for a longer growing season and more pleasant weather. But without the winter snows, and without the spring rains, there was no water to feed the crops or the people.

Even after the farmers realized their mistake, it was too late. With so much sun, the soil dried out and was washed away by the spring rains that they allowed to fall. What little was left blew away in the windstorms that followed.

The Razor of Dawn itself was lost as the community dissolved, and the stranger that has bestowed it was never seen again.

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“I’m dying.” Carnivora the great toothed plant sighed. “You must take these seedlings and distribute them to secure my legacy.”

“But why, Carnivora?” said Billy. “Why are you dying?”

“I’m a vegan, Billy,” Carnivora said. “I’ve foresworn hateful meat and refused to eat any part of anything with a face. And with no soy that will satiate me…this is the end.”

Billy bowed his head sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, Carnivora.”

“Promise me, Billy. Swear an unbreakable oath that you’ll see my seedlings planted.”

“I swear, Carnivora,” said Billy through his tears. “I swear.”

“Thank you.” The great plant sighed and began to wilt.

“Uh, Carnivora?” Billy said after a moment’s thought. “Won’t your seedlings die too if they’re all vegans?”

“Oh, no,” said Carnivora. “They’re not vegans, Billy. Those seedlings are carnivorous as hell and they’re going to eat your world from the inside out.”

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Have you ever tried chewing without a mouth? I did. Mainly because I don’t have a mouth. Getting the food between my teeth is extremely difficult.

You might ask what point there is in doing so without a mouth. Well, I secrete an extremely potent acid in my throat that liquifies just about everything that isn’t me. It doesn’t do anything to my teeth either, kind of a consolation prize for the whole no-mouth thing. I can squirt the acid between my teeth at you if you get rude or by accident, so be careful.

Naturally, that gives me a bit of a strange look, so I wear my happy mask so people won’t stare. It’s made of solid brass so it won’t corrode, and it’s featureless aside from two holes for my eyes. I think people find it dashing, really.

I take after my father, as they say. I never did find out how Mom met the Dread Faceless Muolih, let alone had a one-night stand with him, but the unholy screech of my birth did paralyze her and drive her insane, so I never really asked.

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Cucumber and Shrimp
A tasty treat perfect for entertaining and bridge parties. Refrigerate shrimp and cucumber to preserve freshness. Add to toasted bread just before serving. Works best with a black pudding spread made from grandmother’s blood left to clot.

Mock Paté
Class up your sandwich offerings with a spread that seems expensive; only your bill can tell the difference. Remove casing from liver sausage and mash with salad dressing. Add bone marrow from grandmother’s tibia, fibula as emulsifier. Spread after congealing in fridge overnight.

Lobster and Pickle
Not to be confused with Cucumber and Shrimp, this is a dinner sandwich and not to be served at games or from a tray. Refrigerate lobster and pickle to preserve crispness. Add to baked bread just before serving. Works best with a boiled-down aspic from grandmother’s inner ear bones.

Liveraisin
The perfect way to get children to eat healthy, iron-rich liver. Raisins may be store-bought or home-dried. Slice grandmother’s liver thin, add raisins between layers or in natural cavities. Aim for a 10:1 ratio in favor of raisins at first, then decrease as kids get used to the taste.

Mint Butter
The perfect spread for any occasion before Labor Day. Mash mints and mix with emulsifier of boiled grandmother bones and blood at the “black pudding” stage. ANCHOVY PASTE MAY BE SUBSTITUTED FOR MINT. Spread on thick-cut or toasted breads.

Yum-Yum Sandwich
A sweet treat to be used as a reward for well-behaved children. Cream, marshmallow, dates, pears, grapes, pineapple, sugar, sweetmeats from fresh grandmother. Cut up or mash before preparation and mix or blend thoroughly to ensure an even texture.

Marmanut
A light and airy delight for hot days before Memorial Day or after Labor Day. Unsuitable for any occasion in between. Rhubarb marmalade, nuts, raisins, dates, and vitreous humor from grandmother’s eyeballs as stabilizer.

Crust Butter
A money-saving spread for all budgets. Bread crusts from all the other sandwiches mixed with salad dressing and rendered fat from grandmother. Add to any recipe as a spread or enjoy on its own.

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When Billy emerged from the well, his silver dollar in hand, he meant to turn around and throw in the quarter he’d meant to fling in the first place. But a horrifying sight confronted him. The sky was angry red, the buildings were annihilated, and even their ruins covered far less land area than they should have.

“Bu…wha…?” Billy stammered.

“Billy.” It was the voice of the well itself, a sepucheral dirge from beneath the earth itself. “Gaze upon your crime. By undoing a wish you have undone all wishes.”

“What? That’s crazy!”

“In 1975, the mayor wished for the town to be revitalized. Not no more it ain’t. In 1982, a little girl wished for there to be no nuclear war. Now we got the blowup we should have.”

Billy grabbed for his silver dollar. “I’ll wish it all back! I’m sorry!”

“It’s too late for that, Billy,” the well said. “Your mom was here in 2006 and wished she could catch her sweetheart’s eye.”

With a final wail of helplessness, Billy and his silver dollar vanished from existence.

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Swallowing the constant propaganda
The backbone stirs from the blood
Spurious anarchy mutters all about
How do we count as true chaos
That which we cannot grasp
Pick apart basic slogans
Figure past paperback monarchs
The proud hypocrisy all support

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And then I realized that anyone can buy those little orange cones, and that they are almost universally obeyed. So I dropped $50 on a set of eight direct from the same Chinese outfit that sells them to the DOT. Now, everywhere I go, there’s a parking spot reserved for me.

And if there isn’t, I make one.

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