Sam

A surgical story

   
   "A surgical story"
   
   The doctors gave me a benzo before a surgery approximately 19 years ago, and I don't have anymore; anyway, I smoked a butt, the cherry danced, and Big Mamma pulled me into the parking garage.  After I got checked in, and in a gorgeous gown, that flattered my legs, the nurses gave me 3 more benzos.  I was supposed to fall asleep--I didn't, for I had to drain the dragon, or gleam the gerbil, or pass the fluidic flow of a piss remembered forever; next, I passed out, woke up, not lethargic, got dressed swiftly, and walked the hell out of there.
   Big Mamma took me to the pharmacy.  I smoked another cigarette.  Then, all the drugs caught up with me, and I got kinda loopy.  It was summer.  It was scalding hot, and damn southern humid--Axl Rose welcomed me to the jungle that day--yes he did; I say he did, but Slash wasn't there, nor Duff, and I always wanted to meet those guys.  
   Mom attempted to turn off the air conditioning and take the keys into the pharmacy, all while I was flopping like a frog, and coyotes can digest anything save a horny toad.  Go Hogs!
   Big Mamma said I might drive away.  I said I wouldn't.  We argued.  I got my way.  It all worked out.  Got home.  Ate a pot pie.  I think it was turkey.  I've met a few jive turkeys.  Hell, one lived in my Mom's house for a damn long time before they were asked to leave for doing not-so-nice things.
   My buddy Ham called me from Arkansas that day.  Told him I just had surgery.  He told me to not forget the old days.  To have a beer.  To not be such a wussy.  So, I did.  Good for me.  Good for you.  If you seek to do good, and not rob an old lady blind.  Where's Larry King?  Can anything get that guy to put on a sport coat?    He's a man, baby . . .

Buddy Holly, Peggy Sue (with lyrics).wmv

All My Children

   
   "All My Children"
   
   In college, an algebra teacher told me:  "Boy, you can either be here and do something with your life, or go home and watch ALL MY CHILDREN."  Susan Lucci spoke to me that day; as a result, I went home and watched ALL MY CHILDREN--worked for me.
   G. Gordon Liddy speaks to me, in the theater of my mind, is that illegal?  Regardless, he tells me:  "Mark, like me--you're vigorous, virile, and potent!!!"  Thanks GMAN.  But your genitalia is so much bigger than mine.  Then, I'm reminded of the Beach Boys--it's all good vibrations.  
   Took Mom to see the Virgin Mary statue today.  Don't tear Her down; the Queen of Angels doesn't have a sense of humor like me, schmoopy.  At least She didn't call me a schmekel.
   Live to love another day.  It's all in the reflexes, as a mighty truck driver might say.  Truck drivers have better reflexes than Navy SEALS.
   Go get them Trump.  Why the hell not.  We all got it coming.  Every man deserves his portion, and the kind man spills ten percent to the poor--I think.
  The difference between a Mercedes Benz and a cactus?  With a Mercedes, the prick is on the inside, you heard me schmekel.  This isn't even my house.  Yup, it's my Mom's.  And she loves me baby, just like Kojak.   

How he abused the disabled today

   
   "How he abused the disabled today"
   
   He sat there, like Bill Cosby, always putting pills in my mother's pudding, and Bill Cosby, remember, is a wicked old man; moreover, a dirty old man.  
   Then, he gave me the middle finger, so silently, smiling.  Just smiling.  That's the type of guy he is.  
   I've endured it for years.  Does he have any scars?  I do.  A plethora.  

They plot again

   
   "They plot again"
   
   In two days, they will come for me.  I am beaten and bruised.  Face bloodied, at this moment.  Just showered my mother, changed her, anointed her with lavender, brushed her hair, her teeth, clipped her nails, and placed her, ever so gently, in bed--my dog rests next to her, not her husband, and my face bleeds today, because of his hands.
   Wasn't the notary fraud enough?  Or the caretakers bullying me and throwing my mother around, dropping her in the shower, offering my dog peach pits, with those grins?  Then, the false medical reports, and they know.  All to rid themselves of an elderly woman and her disabled son; plus, a little dog too.
   I watch as he sits and drinks his whiskey, smiling.  Plotting.  Again, I took my mother to the Church today, taking her out of the car, up to the Virgin Mary statue, asking for help.  I take her out, talk to her, and they instruct me not to talk to her.  I can't talk to my own mother?  That's what he has told me, many times.  
   So, I wait.  They'll come.  And I still love God, through it all.  I never complain about my life, nor pity my mother.  I just love God, and I love my mother.  While they have millions, and I eat out of cans, along with my mother, feeding her, making her smile, and they hate me for it.  They always did.
   It isn't enough that I'm diseased and in physical pain?  It isn't enough that I'm shy?  It's only enough to shuffle the money, shuffle the law, and make sure I don't get up this time.  And for what?  To make me feel shame once again?  To make me feel guilty at the illusion they fabricate?  What are my crimes?  I'm the one with scars, not them.  I'm the one that bleeds, not them.  How much longer will their lies persist, until . . .

Last Detail, 1973

   
   "Last Detail, 1973"
   
   Everywhere I go, I am reminded:  Everyone wants to kill me.  They want to kill you too, allegorically.  You think your friend is your friend?  The devil is living right under your own roof.
   Yeah, I see that piece of steel behind the bar.  You know who I am:  "I am--the goddamn Shore Patrol!!!"
   They say, flame on.  I say, virgin on.  It's good to be a virgin.  So much pinned up energy.  Hell, a virgin can kill a legion with a mere wink.  And we all know what King Solomon wrote concerning the wink.  
  That's all.  Nothing fancy.  Cracker Jack Uniform.  Enlisted Man.  Good for him.  Because the enlisted man takes the bullets, mostly--while you officers sit and smoke cigars, mostly.  But we love you; you only make us more like G. Gordon Liddy, and he is a good man.  Always will be.