You can’t see me, but I’m rubbing my hands together with sinister glee. Maybe I’m just excited to share this month’s issue of Defenestration with you. Or maybe I’m giddy about leaving this disastrous year behind. Or maybe I’m convinced that time is cyclical and that David Bowie will reappear sometime in early January. Okay, so maybe it’s all three. But this is Defenestration, so let’s talk about that, shall we?
Posts Tagged ‘ XIII.III ’
Lehman stepped off the elevator on the 5th floor of the building identified only as 100 Canard Place. Directly across the hall, a hand lettered note was tacked to the wall beside a frosted glass door. It read, “Candidates for the position go inside.”
‘Inside’ was a long, vacant reception room. A single chair was positioned to the right of the door. Above the chair was another hand lettered note that read, “Please be seated.” Lehman glanced at his wrist watch as he sat down. It read 10:40 am. His interview was at eleven o’clock. Perhaps they would call him early, he thought. He kept glancing at his watch until the hands slowly crawled around to 10:58 am. He should be called soon he thought. The straight-backed metal chair was digging into his thighs and the trickle of tepid air that was flowing from the dusty vents only served to add to his discomfort. Suddenly, he was aware of a presence standing directly in front of him.
“Mr. Lemon Farts.”
I hope you are well. I know that you left a message wanting to know when we arranged tour guides. I’m answering you late because one guide has not yet gotten back to us. So, here’s the best information I can give you, at this point.
Quimby and I would like to pay for two days of touring. One has already been scheduled and paid for. It’s for our boys to go to Vallis Bohr and the Bohr Crater. The tour guide will pick them up at your cube and drop them back off very late in the day. He will make sure they hydrate at appropriate times and will otherwise take good care of them.
Eva Wright announced her wedding engagement with little forethought one cold April morning, during an uneven thaw at the end of an unseasonably long winter. She’d been wandering for hours along slushy Chicago streets, admiring the frost glittering on the petals of tulips, when she decided to visit her father, if only to fill the empty hours of a quiet Saturday morning.
“It’s been awhile,” Thomas Wright said. He averted his eyes from his daughter’s frayed sweater, an affront to fashion that recalled the color of withered limes.
In a huge cavern in Transylvania, a hundred thousand bats gathered for an emergency meeting, clinging in tribal clusters from stalactites. At the center of the cave, various national representatives nudged and wedged themselves into better spots, until a huge ancient bat with scarred wings, raised his head and emitted a sonorous whistle. All fell quiet.
A stray hamburger in the middle of the freeway stopped traffic for three hours. The news crew came in helicopters to film the event and conduct interviews. The hamburger had nothing to say. It was there for only one purpose: to be eaten. But who would eat it? It had been laying in the hot sun and there were probably bugs crawling on it now and at least a few people had wheat intolerances.
Mrs. Whittaker paused from grading papers to appreciate the room. The kids were engaged in what’s called Flexible Learning, working in what is called Flexible Groups, to accomplish Flexible Goals, based on a Flexible Curriculum. The class almost ran itself, although Whittaker had a very important role as professional educator—to applaud loudly these children’s talents, to cultivate their unique gardens, to preserve and prepare their individual snowflakes only to release them at the end of the year, ice crystals now advanced in length and complexity, for three months of summer and another teacher’s care.
Medusa turned every one of her boyfriends into stone
yet still found that her physical relationships with them
were deeply satisfying and lasted for hours.
“Such a hard on!” she exclaimed to the Gorgons.
As Charles jumped from atop the building,
he yelled like a native (which is to say he
made a noise as often depicted in the
media of Western countries (clearly
an artificial division, unfairly favoring
one side with false criteria of culture)
though natives surely had their own
reasons to yell, just not—perhaps—
jumping from buildings).
First take a bath
A long bath.
Sit in the tub with your phone and
Send a text message
To someone you’ve never kissed
But would like to kiss.
Tell them you’re going to write today.