A fun little blip from the past
6/20/14
When I was 17 years old I was charged with a five-day vigil babysitting an office where everyone else had gone on vacation and my job was to answer the telephone -- which never rang. On the fifth day of utter boredom I took advantage of a typewriter and wrote the following.
"Dear Elma,
"Things have not been going too well today. The boss died and one of the secretaries had intercourse with three salesman. The ceiling collapsed but for some reason felt straight upward. We watched it go until it crashed into a bus that was stopped for a driver –"we" being George and Sandra; I was out to lunch at the time.
"The bosses wife, a very pretty young typewriter, came in and shot the alligator we keep in the desk drawer with four parts of bourbon. Mr. Hempstead had a baby. Fourteen bellhops and a water cooler assisted. Expect things to clear up in a day or two.
"Don't expect me for supper; I'm going to have my head examined.
"Love, Gloria"
That was in 1951.
Today, June 20, 2014, I am finishing up a four-day vigil being basically alone, except with my cancer and side effects, and contemplating a somewhat empty world. So I decided to parallel, in a way, my old vigil by writing another new story.
Dear Joe,
I am so lonesome. I just wish there was someone around who could say "Poor Joe. You are suffering so bravely. We are all so sorry that you are still here. If there was only something we could do to speed up your demise." I would feel so better cared for.
And they would say, "We love you so much Joe we can't wait to see your name engraved on that beautiful tombstone. You are such a tribute to cancer; your suffering is so well deserved."
If there were only someone here to say these beautiful things to me, to make my suffering so much more pleasant.
Love, Joe
<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
No, I'm not going crazy. I'm just really good at writing this kind of thing. It’s like fun.
With love, Joe
