Stories From Linkyshire

I put up a billboard at the entrance of Linkyshire.
It says, “Linkyshire, the perfect place.”
I think that sums it up nicely for anyone entering our village.
I want people to know that Linkyshire is perfect.
I think the Linkyshire Committee will be happy about it.
For example, in Evantonian they run over their pigeons
with big truck tires.
Here in Linkyshire we treasure our pigeons.
Knowing that, don’t you want to live here?

Caught Ruth in the lobby today.
I was going up.
She was going down, figuratively, I mean.
She said she was going away.
Anywhere.
Paul was driving her crazy,
so she was going to drive away.
She did have her keys in hand.
Turns out, Paul was building a wooden boat
in their apartment because he wanted to sail away.

On the way to my Gran’s I had to drive through Evantonian.
Ugh.
Tall buildings block out the sun.
Shadows are everywhere.
People’s clothes are dull.
Their skin is dull.
Their TVs are dull and
the local news is therefore dull.
Dull, dull, dull.
Once over the bridge I could almost taste
Gran’s cookies & milk.
Her smile was worth the trip.

Turns out Arbo is a kid around the corner from me.
I must have seen him at some point before my dream.
His hair shoots out of his head at an angle like an anime character.
He likes soccer and the XBox 360.
He says he likes to drive off buildings,
shoot pigeons, and kill his employers,
on the XBox 360, of course.
How do you avoid the police?
Cheats, he says.
He fits right into our community here.
Makes me think I should get some dangerous hobby.

Every time I go to the coffee shop
there’s this fly.
He lands on the back of a chair
or the table
or my computer
or my hand.
Yuk.
I hate flies.
I’m sure it is the same fly every day.
He looks the same and
he always lands in the same places.
Someday I’m going to kill him.
I should be able to do that soon.
Fall is almost here.
Hurray for Fall.

I left Pinky a note on pink paper.
She really liked it.

The topic today was Linkyshire’s future.
Everyone attended a meeting.
We all shouted ‘hurray’ for Linkyshire
and went home feeling sound and content.
The police looked happy too.
The infectious attitude swept into Evantonian I’m sure.
This happy wave was reported in the big city paper.
We rock.

I think this story is about durable personalities. Brilliant.

Old Woman With A White Kerchief

An Old Woman with a white kerchief left her house in the morning.
She walked down the street saying things to annoy the children.
"There is a piece of candy in the street."
"Red lips on little boys are there to annoy."
She did this every day.
One day all the children on the street went to her house.
They pelted her front door with little pebbles.
She slipped out the back door and went to the other side of town.
She bought a donkey and brought it back to her house.
She told all the children that she would shoot the donkey if they didn't leave.
No one said anything and no one moved.
So she shot the donkey.
The next day the Old Woman with a white Kerchief walked down the street saying things to annoy the children.

John wanted to know if I was depressed.
I said that I was usually depressed but that I liked it.
How did I know I liked it he wanted to know.
Because I feel safe when it rains or snows.
John said he was depressed about his being depressed.
That’s going too far, I said.
I said, everyone is depressed. Just look around.
John didn’t believe me. He thought he was the only one.
(Pinky also believes that). Several other people I know believe that too.
I said you can’t live on this planet without being depressed at core.
You might even have a sunny personality, I said.
John said he would go camping for a few days so he could write.
I said that sounded good.
I can hardly wait for his next story to appear.

I saw her walking back to the building.
She was carrying a large wrench --
could hardly lift it,
but she seemed utterly happy about something.
I said ‘hi’ and she said ‘hi’ and
I continued down the entrance driveway,
to the street, where I saw a large street lamp
lying across the main road.
A long line of mini coopers collected by
the fallen street lamp.
On the ground, around the base of the street lamp,
were some large nuts that had been taken off.
The lamp had fallen into the street.

Mrs. Magellan stopped me in the hall.
She wanted to join the Lazyites Club.
I told her she didn’t have to do anything.
But she wouldn’t take that as an answer.
I said, really, all you have to do is say
you’re a member. There are no duties at all.
It’s just something fun to say.
She insisted on doing something though.
So I had to tell her that if she insisted
on doing something then she wasn’t lazy enough
to be in the club. I think she got the message
but I’m a bit worn out.