My First Bicycle

I remember when I received my first bike. It was Christmas Day, 1985. Santa had once again forgotten to stop by. Mother said it was because he couldn't remember where we lived. Dad said it was because he was drunk. I think Santa must have been drunk because I wrote him every year and always put our address in big bold letters on the envelope. I always suspected my Dad took him to the bar whenever he showed up and got him so liquored up he forgot to leave the presents. Either that or his elves didn't update his database properly. I kind of hate those little green buttholes.

Anyway, the stockings were still hung by the chimney with care, deflated and sad looking. Sissy shouted something obscene at Dad and ran to her room crying. Dad huffed and took a swig of his "special medicine." Mother shook her head and and bit into her morning drumstick. I felt confused, but remained hopeful that next year Santa would finally come. That's when Dad looked out the window and said, "What the fuck?"

A small bicycle was laying on the lawn. I squealed with delight. A brand new bike, just for me! Santa really did remember! I ran outside, still clad in my Superman footy pajamas, to get a closer look. It was old and rusted, with deflated tires, a broken bell and no chain. The handlebars had no handles, the seat was just a pole. It was beautiful. Dad cursed the neighbors as I hugged my new bike tightly.

Dad tried to throw the bike over the fence, but I insisted Santa left it for me. Dad grumbled an agreement and went into the garage to see what he could do. He found some old bike tubes, took the chain and banana seat off of Sissy's bike (who was standing in the doorway looking huffy) and affixed them to Rusti (that's what I named her). I was ready to go. Dad spent the day teaching me how to ride. He held onto the seat as I peddled with gusto. Soon, I could peddle on my own as Dad sprawled out on the lawn, his bottle of special medicine close at hand.

This was the best Christmas I ever had. Even better than the one when the cops came. Don't feel bad for Sissy, Mother said she got "VD" from Bobby Walker down the street, so at least she got something.

The Apocalypse Will Happen at an Old Hotel

At least that's what my dreams tell me. Evidently the world will be strewn with dirty laundry and lots of litter, where everyone except the Men in Charge will have to hide during the twilight hours. There are people who are "immune," but you must not mingle with them. Plus, you must be inside by 10 pm because it's curfew.

Other things to note:

If you are forced to sleep outside, because you no longer have a home or a family, make sure you are with a group of people and you're all disguised as piles of dirty laundry, that way the Men in Charge won't see you and take you away. That doesn't mean they won't poke at the piles of laundry and find you there, though.

Try to find a place to rest indoors, preferrably with a group of people. You don't have to disguise yourself as well indoors, but make sure you're as inconspicuous as possible. Try tucking yourself into small, uncomfortable spaces.

Your dog may love you, but she loves the Man in Charge more and will go with his lackeys if asked. He is, after all, the Man in Charge.

Being alone is ill-advised, but you may have to be from time to time, as most people don't want to leave the relative safety of their rooms. But your incurable curiosity will prevent you from staying in one place for too long.

Don't wear a T-Shirt that broadcasts the company you work for, it may gain you a few more enemies. But you may be able to offer the T-Shirt to them and sneak out the back door.

If you make it to the old, maze-like hotel, make sure you avoid skeevy-looking people. They will get you. They like to roam the halls, jump off balconies, and chase you. Sometimes their girlfriends will apologize for them. Sometimes the girlfriends are the skeevy ones.

The hotel is beautiful, dark and OLD. It pre-dates even your grandparents. The hotel is a hub of activity, most of it hidden. It has a power all its own. It has lots of doors, hallways and staircases, so you can easily lose someone in the maze--the better to outrun your persuers.

There are people who reside in the hotel, but that is ill-advised as the Men in Charge will find you and get you. They believe the hotel is theirs, even though it belongs to no one.

If the Man in Charge, who looks suspiciously like Clancy Brown, wants YOU, don't try to out run him. He will always catch you.

And lastly, if you are cutting pie for your family and friends and then pass it around, make sure you leave a slice for yourself. Otherwise no one will care that you didn't get a piece.