Thursday, April 14, 2016

the carrot


by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios




donald was a regular guy who did not have very high expectations.

he wanted people to like him or at least ignore him.

he did not understand life or his fellow humans very well but hoped to improve in that regard.

one day he was feeling a bit nervous about some applications he had made to participate in certain activities.

he decided to relieve his nervousness by going for a walk.


at the last minute before embarking on his journey he decided to take a carrot with him to munch as he walked along.

this proved to be a mistake.

it was a pleasant enough day and there were many other people on the street besides donald.

all of them noticed that donald was eating a carrot and most of them made some comment, either to a companion or to the air or directly to donald.

"dude, how's the carrot?"


"that guy is eating a carrot."

"mmm - good vitamins."

"look at that person - is he doing what i think he's doing?"

"it's always a good day for a carrot."

"i don't believe this."

"bro, try rutabaga some time - easier to digest."

"down the street eating a fucking carrot."

donald did not enjoy these attentions but he did not want to throw the carrot away either - he felt that would represent some sort of obscure defeat.


and would be littering.

he did not want to put the half eaten carrot with his teeth marks in his pocket - that seemed unsanitary.

the climax came when he was stopped by a broad-shouldered young man with a posse of five other young persons, male and female, tagging behind him.

the young man pointed a finger not quite in donald's chest and with a big white toothed laugh, announced - "i know what you're doing."


donald was too startled to answer.

"you're making a movie, right?" the young man looked, or pretended to look, up and down the street. "where's your buddy with the camera?"

"he's filming it himself," said one of the entourage. "he's got a camera in his shirt pocket."

donald still didn't know how to respond. one of the two young women in the group grabbed the arm of the first young man.


"come on, adam, you don't have to be a total dick every minute of every day."

the group moved off, laughing. donald heard the first young man say "nobody eats a fucking carrot in the street -"

donald finally got home safely. he felt that the nutrition he had obtained from the carrot and the fresh air and exercise from the walk had been more than offset by the relentless mockery he had received.

he never walked down the street eating a carrot, or any other vegetable, again.



Monday, March 14, 2016

the awakening


by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios





walter walters was sixty-six years old and had been married to the same woman for forty years but he still wanted to have sex with every woman in the world.

since he was thirteen years old, walter had never really been conscious of anything much except women’s tits, legs, and asses, and occasionally, if they were really really good-looking, their faces.

even when he was eating, sleeping, going to school, or making a living as a financial analyst, the front of his brain was usually occupied with thinking about women, sex, and porn.


and then one morning, two months before his sixty-seventh birthday, he woke up from an unusually deep sleep, or at least one in which he could not remember dreaming.

he felt strange, although he at first did not realize why.

his wife, shirley, was on a cruise ship with a couple of her friends. she had been going on such cruises every year for the last ten years.

walter went downstairs and began making himself his usual big breakfast of eggs, sausages, and pancakes.


he still felt strange.

as he was pouring his second cup of coffee he realized why.

he was not thinking about sex.

in fact he could hardly remember what sex was, or what it had felt like, or why he had liked it so much and been so interested in it.

as he stuck his fork into his scrambled eggs, he noticed something he had never noticed before.

the eggs were yellow.


and the coffee - which he drank without cream or milk - was black. not just “black”, meaning no cream or milk, but the actual color black.

and the sausages, which he liked well done, were almost black too, but a little brown or almost red in streaks.

the toast was brown too, but a much lighter brown, almost yellow or white in spots.

as walter’s usual day progressed, he noticed many other things - things he had forgotten for the past fifty-three years.


as he walked to the bus stop, he looked up at the sky.

it was blue! really blue!

and the clouds - they were white!

and the buildings he walked past everyday looked strange.

to walter a building had always just been a building - you went inside one when it was cold or raining and then you were warm and dry.

but now he noticed that some of the buildings were taller than others. and some were not even quite the same shape as the others!


and those things in front of some of the buildings - they were trees!

and the air. it was a slightly chilly morning and he felt the cool air actually getting into his lungs.

and the people - at the bus stop and then in the bus and at work - he noticed they were wearing all sorts of different clothing. many of the women were dressed almost like men, and a surprising number of people, male and female and young and old, were wearing hats, including a lot of baseball caps of different colors.


this is interesting, thought walter. he decided he would go for a walk at lunch time instead of eating a sandwich or bagel at his desk and fantasising about threesomes and foursomes as he usually had, and check out this strange new world of sight and sound.

he just wondered how much longer he had to live, and how much time he had to explore his new found existence.



Friday, February 19, 2016

arnold toynbee


by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios




bobby blue and rita red
woke up one morning in a big white bed
outside the grass was growing green
and a yellow sun lit up the scene

rita shook her tresses loose
and poured a glass of orange juice
and bobby with his brain so gray
put on his clothes to face the day

bobby worked for mister brown
the biggest employer in the town
his immediate supervisor was miss pink
who had been known to take a drink

rita was a spirit free
who flaunted her prodigality
she had been raised by a purple aunt
whose favorite words were “don’t” and “can’t”

rita dreamed of rosy fame
when everybody knew her name
and she had her pick and choice of guys
under clear cerulean skies

bobby and rita were only two
people in a world no longer new
people whose overflowing dreams
sped through the cosmos in widening streams

the world was blue five billion years ago
and then turned brown so very very slow
red people with green eyes woke up to find
they were prisoners of universal mind

universal mind was a mauve baboon
who could not leave behind too soon
the curious magenta concoction he had dreamed
where nothing violet was what chartreuse seemed

in a drugstore in paris tennessee
rita bought a ticket in the lottery
and since she had already come so far
she also bought a hershey bar




Friday, January 8, 2016

three guys


by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios





ted, joe, and stan were three guys.

ted got a job in a pizza store, on a little street just beside the entrance to the interstate.

he did not think he would keep the job for very long, but he ended up staying there for twenty-three years.

ted felt that he had found something in the pizza place, though he did not know exactly what.

every day he would look out the window and see joe, standing at the entrance to the interstate.

not hitchhiking, just standing there.

like he was waiting for something.

around ten o’clock every morning, stan would run by.

he was always dressed like an ordinary guy, just out running for exercise.

but if you looked closer, he had a look in his eyes like he was running from something.

what had ted found?

what was joe waiting for?

what was stan running from?

maybe what ted had found, joe was waiting for, and stan was running from were all the same thing.



Tuesday, December 22, 2015

the conversation


by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios





rob and lois bradley were boring people, and they didn’t have any friends.

one morning lois was in the local bake shop buying some blueberry muffins when she overheard carol porter, a member of the school committee, laughingly refer to herself and rob as “ those ————“.

lois could not make the word out but she knew it was not complimentary.

from that moment her life assumed a new purpose.

she formed a plan, and that night she outlined it to rob.


her plan was for them to have an entry in the guinness book of world records.

that would show carol porter and all those other stuckup people who thought she and rob were so boring!

lois had the idea that she and rob would have the exact same conversation every night - word for word - for a record number of days.

5,000 days? 10,000? lois settled on 6,667 as a compromise - that would be a little over 18 years.

the conversation went like this:



it’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?

yes, but it will soon be over.

and tomorrow will be another day.

that is true.

it is strange, isn’t it, that one day is so much like another.

it might seem strange to some people.

you are right. others might find it not so strange. even comforting.

the city had not fixed the sidewalk yet.


no, they have not. what a worthless lot they are.

bureaucrats, that is all they are. with no imagination.

how people put up with it, year after year, is beyond me.

it seems that the population of dogs has been increasing, worldwide.

really?

yes, it is now approximately one-tenth that of humans.

i would have thought it was much higher than that.

the figure has been verified by the most conscientious observers.

chimpanzees, on the other hand, have seen their numbers dwindle appallingly to where they are now an endangered species.

but baboons have, somewhat surprisingly, maintained their numbers quite well.

yes, the baboon is a resilient creature.

we should all be so resilient.

that is an interesting thought. but it does not seem that humans are as adaptable as they might be.

i agree.


rob and lois engaged in this conversation for the targeted 6,667 nights, and submitted the requisite paperwork to the guinness book of world records.

however, their application was declined, and they continued to live in obscurity.



Tuesday, December 8, 2015