Sunday, May 11, 2008

Face Down In A Pelecanos Book





Still thinking about Stacy Keibler as Catwoman, but I keep promising the following melodrama, so here goes. The printing plant I work at has moved, as I have mentioned before, to the ghetto end of Oak Forest. I normally get a ride from Bart, my fellow color copyologist, near the Simply Sinful and Bear Liquors on 125th Street. Last month, I had an early doctor's appointment and took the bus to the end of the line, 159th and Cicero. The bus pulls into Oak Forest Hospital, I walk past the mental ward in a separate building, walking a diagonal towards a new subdivision, trying to get to 127th and Kilbourn. I walked a half mile in knee high grass-why mow the lawn near the mental house, right?--and I find myself trapped by a FUCKING GATED COMMUNITY!! I scream Son of a BITCH, trying my best to sound like James Brolin in CAPRICORN ONE. Fuck it, I say, and climb the fence. And get stuck. Then fall upside down, still stuck. Everything I have falls in front of my face, coins, keys, then contents from my backpack slide over my waterfall-like head. Pizza Rolls. Fuji water. Avengers comics with Skrulls on them. SHOEDOG by George Pelecanos falls last. All is quiet then. The traffic on Cicero is blocks away, past trees and some kind of sign, probably one that admonishes climbing fences. Blood was rushing to my head, but it was one of our rare sunny days, the doc had given me anti-inflammatory shots, so once again I said fuck it. I shook the damn fence, pulling my legs away as I did. I was able to kind of Jerry Lewis as Daredevil position--you'd really have to be there--and I dropped the last two feet...face down in a Pelecanos novel. I've taken a webcam shot using my Bruce Willis Sin City action figure to illustrate. Note that it's not to scale. Look at the photo of my jeans, though. I fell and some kind of pipe went right through my pant leg as I crumpled into the book. How I didn't have this pole, it was just that, not a spike, not a rusted, broken thing...just a pole, a marker, didn't even scratch my leg, or better yet, choose to come out from behind it's cloak of invisibility as my face decided where to land. None the worse for wear, as many of my co-workers swear ripped jeans to work, I gathered my belongings, walked through the subdivision screaming I'M OUT OF ORDER? YOU'RE OUT OF ORDER!!! at the top of my lungs (not really), got to 167th and marvelled a bit at the overpass above Interstate 57, seeing how far I had come by foot. Work that day had its moments, and I had a tale to tell. Now if only I can get the girl who works at the pharmacy at Walgreens off my mind...Wayne

7 comments:

HemlockMan said...

Is that Avengers comic any good?

Charles Gramlich said...

Maybe the girl at the pharmacy appreciates torn jeans.

Steve Malley said...

Some reason, I'm reminded of the principal in Ferris Beuller's Day Off!

Anonymous said...

For some reason your blog doesn't like me (actually, I
think it's Safari web browser it doesn't like-- will
try Explorer next time) so I haven't been able to
comment directly-- but this is one of your best
slice-of-life essays yet. Says I. you should collect
the best and see if the Chicago Reader would be
interested in a series on what it's like to live in
Chicago with disabilities, etc. Your stuff is funny
enough not to be despairing and painful enough to be
real. Then collect the essays into a book. Voila!
I have dreams of getting a 64 page script for SI into
the hands of an editor sometime before school lets out
in the next two weeks and we can turn to the next
project. Course I have to sit my ass down and hammer
the damn thing together, don't I? I suspect we should
be saving/printing a hardcopy of our idea emails to
use later as a kind of story bible-- there's already
more background than we could fit into a kid's comic
but we need a page-turning funny/scary adventure first
or we won't make it past the first issue.

Malcolm Muggeridge, Deceased

Wayne Allen Sallee said...

My dear Wayne,

You really must stop attempting these death defying feats in private. A little public visibility may save your life one day. I must say it makes my interviewer taking personal cell phone calls during my interview pale in comparison. One day you have to do your walking adventures as a comic you could call yourself Survivor Guy or something. You seem to bounce back no matter what life throws at you. And it does seem as if life has thrown everything at you but fame, fortune, and an anchor spot on the evening news... Now that I think about it you would be a lot more fun to watch than that Katie Couric person.

Mike--

Wayne Allen Sallee said...

oops. the real Wayne

Capcom said...

Wow, sorry for your mishap!

LOL Steve.