by Robert Lopez
They say it would not serve to describe the ugliness in detail. We know from ugly.
I say the doctors in their white coats and clipboards are ugly too.
They say other than the pervasive ugliness there is nothing noteworthy about this train ride. When our stop comes we get off the ugly train to hurry homeward and we don't look at the people who rush past to take our places.
This is when I said who is calling please and then I cursed myself for saying it that way because who is calling please is not what I want to do with myself on the phone.
So right after I said who is calling please I said shut the fuck up Johnny like an MP or security guard would if they made the mistake of saying who is calling please themselves.
The persons on the other end took a breath like Charlie had jabbed them in the stomach and this is when I hung up in their faces.
Right afterwards I masturbated myself to calm down. I always masturbate to calm myself down and this was no exception.
Maybe I have been wired to want to masturbate whenever the phone rings. When I frisk myself I don't find any wires but maybe they put the wires on the inside. I frisk myself to warm up before masturbating and have never found any wires is how I know this.
Sometimes when I frisk myself I pretend I am a foreign agent spying on Alaska and Charlie is the one who caught me. So it's Charlie who frisks me when I pretend this and he arrests me and throws me in the cooler. This is when I bang on the door and say Charlie let me out I'll talk. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Ordinarily it's only name rank and serial number but this time it'll be different. I tell Charlie through the door that I will tell them everything. Names dates bank account records the names of my superiors and a list of contacts inside Alaska.
Mother gave birth to Charlie and me in Injury Alaska.
Alaska the motherland Alaska the beautiful is what Charlie and I call it to this day.
The reason there might be wires inside me is I hear a high-pitched tone in my head and it never turns off. This tone sounds like the way old televisions used to squeak until you punched the top of them.
We had a television that would make this sound and Charlie and I would take turns punching the top of it. We would be on our sofa eating the dinner of sandwiches and coleslaw Mother brought home from the store and watching the television. We'd watch black and white movies or boxing matches on Friday nights. Otherwise Mother would pick out what we would watch because it was educational. She made us watch a bunch of movies about an African guinea man who got his foot chopped off next to a tree because it was educational. For two weeks I ran around the house saying kamby bolongo mean river until mother threatened me with the ladle.
We would sing songs for her during the commercials because Mother liked it when we'd sing. Sometimes the songs were the actual commercial jingles and other times it was our own songs. Sometimes she would make us dance too because I was light on my feet. We'd both dance jigs while we made up our own songs to sing and almost always it was about the kamby bolongo and I was always the better singer which made Charlie jealous. He'd punch me in the stomach so I would stop singing and dancing better than him. This is when Charlie was more like Charlie used to be than he is now. Back when we were eating sandwiches and coleslaw and singing our songs while watching and punching the television and each other's stomachs to stop the noise.
I didn't used to hear this noise which is why I think it's possible there's wires in my head now. When I ask them about the wires they tell me to calm myself down.
In this case I don't think they mean I should masturbate but you can't always tell with them.
This noise in my head is like a horrible dial tone from a horrible phone that never shuts off. You can't dial out and there's no way to hook up an answering machine to it either.
I don't tell the doctors about the noise in my head because I think they're the ones responsible. I think if I told them about the noise they would say what noise we don't hear any noise.
The noise in my head is like the worst soprano singing the worst aria ever written. There is no vibrato and she can only sing that one high note and hold it until both of our heads come off our shoulders.
I can masturbate and masturbate and still this tone all the time.
Maybe they think the opposite that the sound of the phone ringing will make me stop masturbating. There is no telling what they want with me here. I will not stop masturbating to answer the phone. If they ask me this I will tell them otherwise they will have to learn it for themselves. Every time I stop masturbating to answer the phone I cannot concentrate on the words coming from the person on the other end and it is awkward. I don't like it when the hello how are you is awkward. This is most true if it is Mother on the other end.
Sometimes it was awkward when Mother applied the powder to the chafed parts. I would try to keep my situation out of the way but sometimes it didn't work.
Sometimes my situation would fall out in front of everyone.
Mother said what did we say about this young man.
I said I know Mother.
Mother said I think it's time you applied your own powder.
I said maybe it's time we got an air conditioner instead.
When I ask them why I can't dial out anymore they tell me to calm down or they tell me I'm doing fine. This is what they always tell me so I have to believe them.
Now that I think of it I think I was born with a headache. If I said otherwise I was mistaken and for that I'm sorry. I was probably given too many pills that day.
I think I remember now that I was born in the middle of a horrible fucking headache because of Mother.
Why I had this headache is I got stuck in Mother's tubes on the way out. This is why she always said what she said about giving birth to us.
Mother said the doctor had to go in with pliers to get me out. She said they had to clamp the pliers hard around my head and crushed my skull in the process.
She said she knew I was rotten from that very moment.
I said how was it my fault Mother.
She said it sure as hell wasn't mine.
I said how do you know.
She said the doctor said so.
I said since when do we believe what the doctors tell us.
She said the doctor said you had a bucket head and would never make yourself useful.
I said how could I do that Mother.
Then I said what about Charlie Mother how was he born.
She said at least Charlie had the sense not to have a bucket head and get stuck.
She said I should've had my tubes tied in the first place.
So it turns out I should've been more like Charlie even before I was born.
Or at least while I was getting myself born to the world through Mother's skinny tubes.
Why I have headaches all the time is the doctors crushed my skull the day I was born like the awful bastards they truly are.
I had to wear a special helmet whenever I left the house. I would be halfway out the door and Mother would scream from the kitchen to go get your fucking helmet.
Mother was afraid I'd hurt my head and die and who could blame her really.
For instance they made me wear a helmet when I played baseball that one year. Although I only got to play a few innings at second base and the rest of the time I was on the bench keeping score.
I was like an idiot out there at second base with a helmet on.
I also wore the helmet whenever Charlie and I went jogging with the dog. Here it was Charlie pulling us along and I was the idiot with the helmet on and that's how people could tell us apart.
Also Charlie was older and responsible and sometimes he had a crew-cut because he thought it made him look tough. Whenever he came home from camp he'd have a crew-cut and Mother would tell him he looked ridiculous like that.
Charlie looked ridiculous in his crew-cut and I was the idiot with the helmet.
This is why whenever we'd box Charlie would only pummel me
in the stomach.
Everyone in Injury knew that my skull was crushed by the doctors and everyone felt sorry for me because of it. Every year they would have a radio-thon to raise money for my helmets and pills. Everyone knew that Mother was unemployed and couldn't afford my helmets and pills on her own.
One year they had me sing and do some of my many performances on the radio-thon. Mother and Charlie took me down to the studios of KINJ early in the morning so I could rehearse. Mother was especially excited and said this was my big break and I shouldn't blow it.
So what I did was the SS officer and the African guinea man and both the bullfighter in lahve with Maria Conchita Daniela Esposa and the Chinese Karate fighter saying asshole you have disgraced my sister's honor.
After that I sang a song about the kamby bolongo. Charlie and I had made up the song and the lyrics were the best we'd done.
Kamby Bolongo Mean River.
It don't mean liver.
Kamby Bolongo is my home.
It ain't never been Rome.
Don't be leavin' no plantation.
To hightail it back to your old guinea nation.
We'll tie you to a tree boy
Right over the root
Then tie up your ass and chop off your foot.
I sang it exactly like an African guinea man would and everyone said doesn't he have a great ear.
The radio DJ asked me questions like it was an interview right after the performance.
The DJ said that was lovely.
I said everyone knows that.
The DJ said we're here to raise money for you today.
I said I know that too.
He said last year we raised two thousand dollars and we're hoping for the same this year.
I said thank you because why bother anymore.
Then the DJ asked me how many helmets would I need this year.
I said it depends on how many times I lose one or Charlie steals one from me.
The DJ said Charlie is your brother is he not.
I said he is I think.
Then the DJ said is Charlie still boxing.
This is when I said nothing and instead let the dead air get all over everyone in the booth.
Everyone in Injury was on the floor after my performance and when they got up they all donated money so that I could have my helmets and pills like always.
This is how it is in Injury. I would walk down the streets and always there was someone coming up to me to make sure I was okay. Everyone in Injury thought I was going to get hurt and die right there on the sidewalk and no one wanted to see that happen.
These are the good people of Injury.
Mother is a lot like everyone else in Injury Alaska which is why she is probably still there.
Most everyone has two children and names one of them Charlie.
The people of Injury have their children sleep in opposite rooms and won't let them sit next to each other at the table. They make them play tic-tac-toe and they give them pills every night before they go to sleep.
They have them watch movies about the African guinea man because it's educational.
For two whole weeks everyone in Injury was either an African guinea man or overseer or slave catcher depending on if your name was Charlie or if your Mother was unemployed. So if you were a slave catcher and you saw an African guinea man running away you could tie him to a tree and chop his foot off for him.
The people of Injury would sing songs during the commercials and dance jigs all over the floor and would sometimes get themselves fired instead of working one job like normal people.
The people of Injury would gather at the kamby bolongo and sing and dance and chase after the ice cream truck on the other side of the river. At night almost everyone needs powder for the chafed parts.
If your skull was crushed by the doctors when you were getting yourself born the people of Injury are especially good to you.
Everyone listens to KINJ at night on their big fancy radios if they are Charlie and their small rotten transistors if they are me.
The people of Injury Alaska yearn for me.
Should the phone ring and it's Injury Alaska on the other end I will say the hello how are you and will tell the good people of Injury to hold on I'm coming.
Yesterday I drew a stick baby getting caught in his Mother's stick tubes. The Mother is on a table with her legs spread open and between them is a stick doctor with stick pliers about to crush the baby's head.
I never draw the good people of Injury Alaska. There is no way to capture them in stick figures and this is something we can all thank God for.
I might draw a stick figure masturbating in a room for a bunch of stick doctors on the other side of a window. I might have him picking up a bottle of baby oil in one drawing and then lying down on his bed passed out from exhaustion in the next.
Sometimes the wrong number is better than the right one. Sometimes it's not even a contest between right and wrong numbers. Sometimes it's like Charlie is the right number and I am the wrong one and Charlie has me up against the ropes and is pummeling me with body blows.
This is why God invented wrong numbers in the first place because he knew we couldn't ourselves.
Mother caught us one time in her room with me against the stole ropes and Charlie pummeling me into oblivion. She said what the fuck are you doing Charlie but Charlie was too busy pummeling me to hear so Mother climbed up into the ring and swatted him with her purse. This was Mother as the referee committing an act of kindness.
I think that was my birthday so right after Mother swatted Charlie we had a happy birthday cake in the kitchen together. Mother and Charlie sang the happy birthday song though I couldn't believe a word of it given what Mother said about how she gave birth to us.
The way they always sang the happy birthday song is Charlie would sing lead and Mother harmony which proves my point about Charlie again. When they were finished Charlie had to help me blow out the candles because I still had the wind knocked out of me from the pummeling.
The great thing about stick figures is you can make them do anything. I have an African guinea man stick figure running away from a plantation and into a thick stick forest. Behind him are two stick slave catchers on stick horses with stick bloodhounds running after him.
In the next drawing I have the stick slave catchers tying the stick guinea man to a tree and then I have them chopping his little stick foot off.
Should the phone ring I will ask for a clarification of the rules. I need to know what it is I can and cannot do again. Sometimes I think it's good they took my uniform from me because of the air conditioning and the sweat. But I think I might want some shorts to wear and I can't remember if shorts are allowed by the rules. The doctor who explained it to me mumbled like Mother gave him too many pills.
They didn't say why they took my uniform away from me when they took it away like that. I was in the middle of masturbating which made it awkward for some of them I think.
I remember the last time I got to wear my baseball uniform. It was the last day of the season and I was on the bench again because I might get hurt and die otherwise. They gave me a clipboard just like the doctors in white coats have and told me to keep score which I didn't know how to do. So what I did was play tic-tac-toe with myself instead. Mother and Charlie showed up and sat in the bleachers to watch me keep score like this for the last game. Mother was unemployed that day and Charlie was home from camp and both of them said look at the sacrifices we make for you.
I wore uniform number 31 that season because I was born on the 31st and the doctors needed 31 stitches for my skull after they crushed it. All the other players wore numbers 1-12 and I'd thought they wouldn't let me play because of my number. I thought maybe they didn't like it.
Then I remembered it was because I might get hurt and die if they let me play so it was good strategy on their part.
The truth was I wasn't a good second basemen regardless. I had trouble fielding grounde
rs because I was afraid the ball would take a bad hop and kill me. I think all the talk about me getting hurt and dying turned me into a bad second basemen. I think I would've been a good one otherwise.
Charlie and I were the two worst second basemen to ever play second base.
The people of Injury Alaska gather every night at the kamby bolongo and await my return. They sing songs for me and bang on their drums a message for all to hear.
The message is return to the kamby bolongo o favorite son of Injury.
Should the phone ring it might be the caller who is trying to make me a millionaire. He doesn't say how he will make me a millionaire only that I should trust him and that if I sign up we can begin immediately. I tell him this sounds good to me so when can we start.
Should the phone ring it might be the caller who said I want to make love with a beautiful woman.
I said I think you have the wrong number myself.
Then the caller said not so much with her but to her at her in her general direction.
So I said in her vicinity.
