“The Diary of Darrin Stevens,” by Jay Morris

Jan 20th, 2010 | By | Category: Fake Nonfiction, Prose

Dear Uncle Jay:

My friend Irwin says that the TV series Bewitched was not a fiction-based situation comedy capitalizing on that era’s “magical” trend, but a documentary series detailing the tortured true-life existence of a man trapped in marriage to a sorceress. Irwin has “episodes,” if you know what I mean, but he seems sincere in this case. Could he be right?

–B.W., Racine, Wis.

Yes. According to the Los Angeles Times, a woman in San Diego claims that Darrin was a real person—her brother—and she’s just signed a deal with Skidmark Publishing to print what is reputed to be his “lost” diary, which tells the story of his marriage to “the witch” Samantha.

Through a series of machinations that will not be described here (okay—the machinations were bribery, burglary, sex-for-hire, blackmail, faxing without consent, and murder), a copy of Darrin’s Diary was obtained; it was learned too late that the publisher would have just sent a copy if asked.

Here are some excerpts:

June 16

Today I scolded Tabitha for leaving her toys around and she turned my head into a jack-o’-lantern. I had to take a sick day from work.

June 19

The ad campaign for Dermo Wrinkle Crème is not going well. My suggested slogan, “Use Dermo Wrinkle Crème and maybe you won’t look so damn old,” met with little enthusiasm. Larry rolled his eyes. When I got home I found Samantha playing strip table tennis with Napoleon. How much longer can I go on?

June 21

My Birthday. Two weeks ago, Sam asked me what I wanted and I told her I wanted out of this terrible existence. Failing that, she could use her powers to give me an erotic experience of exquisite intensity, pleasuring me at a level heretofore unknown to mortals. Instead I got socks.

June 23

They came to shoot the “show” today. When will America realize that what they see is my real life, edited and sweetened with a laugh track? All I can do is try to show the pain with my eyes.

June 27

Eye of newt fritters for dinner again.

June 28

My mother-in-law turned me into a giant snail. All I did was ask her if Attila the Hun wore briefs or boxers.

July 4

Holiday get-together. Yak on the barbecue, but I can’t enjoy myself, too worried about my job. My latest suggestion for Dermo, “Hey! Wrinkleface! Use this stuff!” not drawing raves. Larry drank eleven kamikazes, threw up in the pool.

July 7

I was just recalling the night I met Sam. It was a Halloween party. Ironic. Anyway, I remember how pretty she was. How good she looked in black. The cute way she wrinkled up her nose when she wanted something. Who knew?


Jay Morris is a graduate of LaSalle University, where he was awarded a scholarship for creative writing. He has published dozens of stories in various literary magazines, including Philadelphia Stories and Zahir. He has also written one play, Rude Baby, which was recently produced, and worked for a time as a joke writer for Jay Leno.

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