Monday, November 9, 2009

NaNoWriMo, 3267-3878

It had been built in the Rolls Royce factory in Providence, Rhode Island. Not to be confused with the Rolls Royce factories in Germantown, New York; Racine, Wisconsin; Indiana, Pennsylvania; and Waco, Texas. The Rolls Royce factory in Waco was across the street from a diner that served a lot of fried foods. Some of the regular customers' names were Jeff, Danny, Bill, Hollis, and Junior. Junior's father was a merchant seaman. He had his own ship. It was called the Mary Sue. It was named after Mary Sue Sand, who once sold Junior's dad a suitcase. Inside the suitcase was a treasure map, but it was totally faded and unusable so Junior's dad, Arnold, threw it out. When the suitcase hit the bottom of the dumpster behind Willa's Diner in Waco, Texas, the sound of it made Suzanne jump, causing her to spill coffee onto Mr. Runyan from the pot of coffee she was holding. It was decaf, but decaf scalds just the same as regular coffee when hot. Mr. Runyan, screaming, took leave of the establishment; the coffee had scalded his genitals. Later that morning a stranger drifted in to the diner and sat down while lighting a cigarette and said, "Where is that man who earlier departed this place with his hand on his privates?" He said this like he already knew the answer, which he did. Then the sun went down and it was time for the game. Brenda turned on the TV and flipped to channel 4. The game was about to start. First came the pregame show. Then commercials. Then the national anthem. Then the starting lineups were introduced. Then the players took the field. Then the game was played. After the game the winning team celebrated, while the losing team left the field with their heads down, disappointed with themselves and with some questionable calls on the part of the refs but mostly just disappointed with themselves. Paul Gatchet, one of the members of the losing team, went home and opened his biochemistry textbook. He had a biochemistry test coming up and he needed to pass it in order to maintain a high enough GPA to stay on the team. The next morning Paul woke up with a severe headache. He took some headache medicine. It was 80 degrees outside. All day Paul felt as if his head were about to explode. Eventually the pain went away and he went on with his life. His girlfriend was named Kate. In that year, the year 2008, most people's girlfriends were named Kate or Katie. In nearly all cases it was short for Kathleen. Of these, roughly sixty percent had the surname Sullivan. Paul's girlfriend's last name was Hermann. She was arguably one of the ten finest jugglers in São Paulo, where she grew up. Her parents might have been the children of Nazis, but no one is quite sure. Rumor and speculation abound. Katie's favorite thing to juggle was rabbits. Juggling live rabbits is only legal in Brazil. When she moved to the United States she started using stuffed toy rabbits. It just wasn't the same. Discouraged, she decided to take up a new hobby. But what? She tried rafting, skiing, rock climbing, and waterboarding, but none satisfied her. Then she discovered juggling. Then she remembered that she had already been a juggler. Then she gave up juggling for a second time. Then she learned that in the United States, unlike Brazil, it was legal to juggle chainsaws. So she did that for a while, then, let's see, I think she started playing the guitar. She liked to play in open D tuning. Who doesn't?


  1. "Juggling live rabbits is only legal in Brazil."

    I like the warm palette of neutrality your novel deploys.

    It's something I like about your poetry too.

    Calmness in a world of juggling rabbits and leptons.

    An incongruity. A blessing.

    And the novel reminds me of a certain Yellow Submarine, which is also great art.

  2. my "novel" feels more like a filibuster every day, but thanks:)