Tag Archives: humor

The meaning of life on a fall night

1 Nov

Professor Fred Moran peered into the darkness of the woods. The rustling sound from deep in the forest had faded.
“Hell-o-o-o-o … ” he yelled rather tentatively.
“Forget it Fred. The bear is gone.”
“Bear? Who said anything about a bear?” Moran lowered his trusty cane, Misty Blue and came back to the campfire where Ritter and Reuther were huddled, their faces aglow from the flames.
“I suppose the Penumbra State Spy Network is out there again,” Reuther said.
“Yeah,” chortled Ritter. “Out to track down Fred and his stolen manuscripts.”
“Real cloak and dagger dangerous missions,” laughed Reuther
Moran took two steps forward and pointed a finger at them. “Now that’s enough right there.”
“Aw lighten up Fred,” Reuther said. “The days of cold war literary espionage are gone.”
“Quite right,” said Ritter, pulling out his pipe and his pouch of tobacco. “They want to steal your stuff they go online.”
Moran looked deflated. He shuffled off toward the fire and slumped to the pile of rocks he’d fashioned earlier that evening as a seat. “Alas. Who cares about my stuff anyway? I’m a hack.”
“Er … now wait a minute,” said Ritter, taking a long drag on his pipe as he studied his old mentor. “That piece you wrote earlier this year on Annie Klondike. Top notch, I thought.”
“Right,” added Reuther. “I mean … the sexual tension was not only erotic, but clearly showed the underpinnings of fading youth.”
Moran nodded his head. “It certainly was one of my favorite sections of the book.”
“Buck up Fred. You still have it.”
“Even if your powers of sexual virility have faded,” added Reuther.
Moran looked from Ritter to Reuther. He emitted a long sigh and peered skyward. “What the hell are we doing here anyway?”
“Camping,” shrugged Reuther. “What else?”
“No I mean … What are we doing?”
Ritter took a long pull on his pipe and studied Moran.
“Sometimes I think life is just one long masturbation,” Moran said.
“Mmmmm …” mused Ritter as he took another long pull on his pipe.
“Just might be at that,” said Reuther.
The three of them stared at the dancing flames of the fire. A soft wind shook the bare limbs of the trees on this late October evening.
“You’ve certainly given us something to think about Fred,” said Ritter.

Waiting for Godot

10 Feb

Idleness and Wanderings

My dream job is to review movies for some cheap underground film magazine. Think of it, hanging out in second-run movie houses in sketchy sections of downtown cities, my pack of black market Turkish unfiltered cigarettes rolled up into the upper arm of my tie-dyed t-shirt, my beret pulled low on my head. Meanwhile, up on the silver screen, a blonde scantily clad Swedish babe astride a motorcycle – doing her Kerouac thing – roaring off into the Scandinavian wilderness, subtitles keeping me abreast (pun intended) of the action. Afterwards, hanging out in coffee houses, discussing the merits of the films of Bergman, Truffaut with like-minded bohemian sorts – awaiting Godot. Being idle, getting bored, wondering in God’s name where our lives are going, only to be admonished by J.R.: “There is something heroic about casting off real jobs, middle class trappings and doing our thing dudes. Believe me when I say, Godot will arrive.” Ah … J.R., the wise and wonderful J.R., pacing before us like a fire and brimstone preacher, his eyes aglow, stabbing the air with his pipe to drive home the more salient points of his diatribe against 401(k) plans, respectable jobs and neckties. “Those things were created to strangle mankind,” he screams, flinging the pipe into the wall, his piercing eyes now narrowing in on the bespectacled Ralph, shaking him to the very core of his being. But of course, this is all a preliminary, a warm-up, don’t you see, to the debate to follow. Fred M. and the great J.R. will once again lock horns, get down and dirty to argue about life and love and the whole of existence. “As soon as that S.O.B. gets here, you guys will see what I’m trying to say.”