Diary of a Man-Child 5/3/2016

     His sister was going into the kitchen, doing a little bit of light dish-work before their brother came home from college.  As she was going, he called out to her, "Hey, make me a sandwich!"  Rather than take it as a joke, she became incensed, and attacked.  Her weapon of choice: a pillow.
     He retreated partway up the stairs as the confrontation began.  Perhaps the high ground would prove to be his friend.  "Typical woman!" he crowed, as she pummeled him with a pillow.  "Typical woman; things get tough, and she starts a pillow-fight!"
     Rather than take his continued casual sexism as a joke, she became angrier.  Abandoning him and her pillow, she took up his lightsaber and flicked the handle to extend the blade.  Nothing happened.  She tried again.  Nothing continued to happen.
     "Typical woman!" he crowed.  "Can't even use simple technology!"
     So saying, she reversed the lightsaber, extended the blade, and proceeded to beat him.
     "Mom!" he called in an act of desperation.
     "Get back in the kitchen!" mom ordered.  His sister perforce complied.
     "That's right," he said, "go back to the kitchen!"
     She did not; instead, she returned to the steps and proceeded to beat him silly.

Diary of a Man-Child 25/3/14

     It was supposed to be a short trip: into Wal*Mart, grab a tomato and lettuce, then out.  Simple.  So, so simple.

     Right away, Sister had to screw things up.  "Potato salad!"

     "No.  I'm tired.  Let's just get out of here."

     "We need potato salad.  Please?"

     "We're not getting potato salad!"

     "We have to get potato salad!"

     "No!"

     He started walking away.  A man walked between him and sister, making a bee-line for a watermelon display.  "You gotta get potato salad," the man said as he passed.

     He turned on the man, pointing an accusatory finger.  "You stay out of this!"

     Needless to say, they got potato salad.

Diary of a Man-Child 20/3/14

     He and Mother were at Walgreens, standing in line for what seemed to be hours.  He was excited, as the toy he had come inside to purchase was on sale--he would be getting two.  Mother, meanwhile, had picked out a magazine--Sister was away on spring break, so she would treat herself.  After the people in front of them had spent about ten minutes trying to purchase a single item, an employee wondered over from elsewhere in the store.
     "I can help you in make-up," she said.
     Despite his reluctance to leave the safety of the check-out line right next to the door, and partially out of the principle of the thing, he eventually followed Mother and the stranger half-way across the store to the little makeup desk.
     They rang up, and he was shocked to see the charge that was about to be laid upon his card.  "How much was that magazine?!"  Answer: $7.99.  "$7.99 for a magazine?  It's basically waxy toilet paper!"
     The employee bagged up the purchase and passed it to him.  She gave him a deep, dark, serial-killer glare.  "There's your waxy toilet paper."
     He picked up the bag and, without another word, left.

Diary of a Man-Child 25/11/13

     Mother took them to the food bank where she used to volunteer; they had been nice enough to offer us a free Thanksgiving meal.  While mother chatted it up with one of her old friends, he and his sister hovered around, trying to entertain themselves.  Things got interesting when he grabbed Sister's bandana and yanked it off her head.
     "Mom!" sister yelled, chasing him around shelves stacked high with off-brand food.
     Mother ignored them.
     After four or so times, pulling off the bandana lost its appeal, so they floated over towards an empty food rack with a sign reading "Take only "one" bag, please."
     "We have to burn this," he said.
     "I know, right?" sister scoffed.
     Mother finally took notice of them.  "Why do you have to burn this?"
     "They're mis-using quotation marks," he said.
     Mother returned to ignoring them.
     After the food was in the car, and after another round of yank-the-bandana, they went across the street to the Chinese buffet.  On the way, sister tried her hardest to get him punished for annoying her.  "You always take his side!" she yelled.  "He never gets in trouble!"
     He found a pair of sister's black-and-white striped gloves and put them on.
     "Stop acting like this," mother said.  "You're an adult."
     "I may be, but Zebra Man isn't!"  He cackled and clicked his fingers together.
     In the restaurant they were seated, their drinks ordered and delivered, and now he was trying to blow the paper off of his straw.
     "Get that out of your nose," mother said.
     He pulled the paper down a little further, then straightened, looked around, and proceeded to blow the paper off.
     "I told you not to do that!"
     "No one was looking!"
     They calmed down after a few minutes, then turned to quite conversation.  He had recently become enamored of the film The Room, and had begun sharing its many many-splendored joys with his family.  Sister in particular enjoyed one specific line, and repeated it over and over.
     When she was done with yet another recitation of the line, he said, "Have you heard about the similar Japanese movie, The Loom?  'You're tearing me apart, Risa!'"  Laughs all around.
     Conversation lulled again, and they focused on eating.
     "So," mother said after a few minutes.  "What does the phrase MILF mean?"

Diary Of A Man-Child 8/11/13

     He had begun selling knives.  His boss told him he was the one who could do it, could sell $10,000 worth of product in his first week, and he almost believed him. There was still a part of him that said, "This guy probably tells everyone that..."  Oh well, he would try to sell that much, or die--okay, not that extreme--trying.
     Today he had three appointments back-to-back-to-back.  The first went off without a hitch: he showed the knives, made the speech, sold a few.  Great.
     The next house had dogs.  He loved dogs.  Apparently, the dogs loved him back.  As soon as he got inside, the 10,000 pound pit bull got so excited she vomited.  Then being a dog, she proceeded to eat the vomit.
     "I've already seen this twice," the homeowner said.  "Do you think you could speed this up?"
     He did.  Twenty minutes later, he was done, and ready to go to his next appointment.  That wasn't scheduled for another hour.
     "Have you waited long?" his next appointment asked an hour later.
     "Only about five minutes," he said.
     Inside, he began his presentation.  The man he was presenting to had sold these knives over twenty years earlier, so they had fun comparing the products, seeing how they had changed over the years.
     Then his dog vomited.
     "Wow," his appointment said.  "A dog vomiting while on a sales appointment?  That never happens."
     But it already had.

Diary Of A Man-Child 21/10/13

     The plan had been to go to dinner, then to Home Depot for paint for the downstairs bathroom.  The first part went well enough.  Near the end of the meal he got up to go to the restroom.  He was almost there when he heard a voice.
     "Hey, I like your shirt."
     He turned to see the woman at the check-in smiling at him.
     "That show?  I watch it all the time.  It's awesome!"
     He smiled back.  "I was on the show."
     She smiled back.  Or maybe continued smiling.  It was a grey area.
     He continued to the bathroom, and repeated the events of moments before to his brother, in the stall.  "You should talk to her," brother said.
     When dinner was over they all filed out.  Brother stopped him just as he was about to leave.  "Go back in and talk to her."
     He turned back, awkwardly introduced himself, and managed to get her name and a promise to friend him on Facebook.  All told, a good dinner.
     Things started deteriorating in the car.  "I have to pee so bad," he announced to the car in general.
     "Me too," said brother.
     "Hold it until we get to Home Depot," mother said.
     Minutes stretched by, flooding with urine until they were horrible distended hours of torture.  At last they pulled in to Home Depot.  He and brother ran inside, only to find the bathrooms were at the furthest possible point from the door.  They power walked.  Power walked like their lives depended on it.
     "Can I help you with anything?" an employee asked as they power walked by.
     "You guys made it," the employee said as they ambled by the other way minutes later.
     The next half hour was spent arguing with the man at the paint counter.  Mother passed him an orange chip and explained what she wanted it for.
     "A bathroom?  Really?" the paint man asked skeptically.  "Maybe you should just get a sample."
     They continued to haggle back and forth, mother slowly telling the man more and more of their life's story.  It was an odd experience for the children.  In the end, they left Home Depot without the paint they had come for, the second part of the evening failed.
     As they walked outside, he stumbled into sister, who yelled and began to chase him.  Even though it was cold, he stripped his shirt off and swung it over his head.  Strangers in the parking lot stared in horror.
     Despite her best efforts, mother laughed.  As they pulled out of the parking lot, he stood and levered his body out of the sun roof.  They drove for two miles, him shirtless and freezing, his fat oozing over the edge of the car.  Many motorists saw him and smiled.  Most steadfastly ignored him.
     All told, a good night.
   

Diary Of A Man-Child 29/9/2013

     After church and after dinner, it was time to head to Wal*Mart for some late-night shopping.  Right away he saw something he just had to have.  "It's a wind-up walking zombie!  Clearance for $3!"
     "No," mother said.  "Absolutely no."
     He frowned, but held on to it, just in case she changed her mind.  They walked on through the store--looking at toys, at shelving, at video games.  Eventually he gave up on the walking zombie and tossed it up onto a display chair as mother was busy looking at irons.
     They were almost done, and decided to look at backpacks; sister's had broken.  While the girls were wrapped up in school supplies, he was looking at bins of sundry when he found it: a small, shark-shaped hat for dogs.  It suddenly appeared on his head.  His giggling eventually drew a beleaguered look from mother.
     She tried to hold it in, to ignore him, but eventually had to vaguely smile along.  "That looks pretty funny."
     "I have to buy it.  I have to."  He began to dance around, jumping and twirling in the middle of the store.  Other shoppers pointedly ignored him.
     Mother continued on, winding her way slowly towards the checkout.  He danced in front of her--tapping, leaping, high-stepping, and River Dancing until they finally got into line.
     "Fine, you can buy it."
     "Eeee!"
     Even though it was late, the cashier seemed amused.  She scanned the hat, passed it back, and said, "Okay, you can put it back on."
     "Eeee!"
     The old man in line behind them was less impressed.
     As they transferred bags from the carousel into the cart, he and sister discussed Halloween ideas.  "I'm going as Skyler White for Halloween," she said.
     "You should go as something more interesting.  Hitler maybe."
     She thought about it.  "Yeah, that could work."
     "Ooo, Sexy Hitler!  Khaki mini-skirt, low-cut SS jacket..."
     "What are you going as?"  Sexy Hitler seemed to be outside her comfort-zone.
     "Hodor.  I'll wear my cloak, powder my face...  Ooo, Sexy Hodor!  Shave my legs, powder them--"
     "We're leaving," mother said.  And so they did.
     Once they were in the car, mother retracted the sun roof, and he decided it would be a good idea to stand, shark-hat flapping in the breeze, waving at people as they drove past.  Those who saw were amused.  Most waved, some honked.  Then they were home, and their adventure ended.

Diary Of A Man-Child 27/9/13

     The day started off slow.  He was supposed to be meeting with a writer who was looking for a filmmaker, and had been texting back and forth to establish a meeting.

Ever been to starship its close to the circle theater

No, but I can probably find it.  Do you know the address?

1241 s louis

Its between 11th n 15th

     It had been a long day, and he was bored.  He was looking forward to the meeting; he wanted to work on some kind of film production.  Still though, he was bored, and ready to have some fun with this total stranger.

At 6:40, order a beverage, then get a table facing away from the door.  I will be wearing a blue shirt.  At 6:45 I will sit down behind you and pass you the briefcase   DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT.  Finish your beverage, then leave.  You will be contacted within 48 hours.

     There, that should be good.  Time to pick up sister.

     On the way home from her school, he told her about the last message.

     "What are you going to do if he responds?"she asked.

     He shrugged.  "Three options.  'Oops, wrong number.'  'Sorry, someone stole my phone.'  Or: 'Those are the conditions.  Don't contact the police.'"

     "You should go with option two."

     "Nah; I'll go with number 3.  Freak him out."

     Back at home he was upstairs, fixing sister's computer.  Every few minutes he would catch movement out the window.  He began deleting a program, then waited... waited... waited.  God, the computer was slow.  He looked out the window again, saw movement.  Construction workers on the strip-mall across the street.  Hmmm...  Outside the window, the balcony.  He had an idea.

     He turned to sister.  "Grab a blanket, hang it over the railing; I'll be right back."  He ran to his room, grabbed a puppet, and returned to her room, flopping to the ground.  He crawled out onto the porch, slowly raised the puppet, and began yelling, "Hey!  Hey everybody!  Hi, hello!  How are you?  What's up?"

     Sister was laughing.  "They see you!  Oh, my gosh, they're just staring at you!"

     "As soon as I get out off the porch, close the curtain."  He backed out, she closed it.  They laughed.

     Then his phone beeped.

What is someone sees the exchange?  Do we silence them?  Bribe them?  Flee?

     He smiled; this could work.
     So, he went to the meeting.  It went well.  They stood in the middle of a record store, discussing writing, music, drugs and... that was about it really.  An hour later, it was time to leave.
     On the way out, the owner yelled, "Hey!  We rent space here!  That'll be $20."  Yes, definitely time to leave.
     On the way home, he got a text.

Hey its dylan

     He didn't know a Dylan...  Time for a bit of fun.

Hello

Whats up

Is this my future gf

Nope, this is Hez.

who is hez

I'm a novelist/filmmaker.  Who are you trying to reach?

You gave .me your number on fb

So

What is the name of the person you're trying to reach?

Nothing bye

     Good, he seemed to finally get the hint.  He stopped off at a store, went inside to pick up snacks for his sister's sleepover.  He had gotten almost everything when his phone beeped.

Do you rememver me

I'm pretty sure I'm not who you think I am.

     And that's the last he heard from Dylan that night.

Diary Of A Man-Child 16/9/13

     There were big plans for today.  He was going to wake up, take his sister to the bus, then walk on to the gym.  Work out, come home, get things done, work out.  It didn't work out.
     He woke up at ten, used the bathroom, and was finally ready at 11:30.  "Lunch time," he thought.  Lunch, an episode of Doctor Who, 12:30.  Still time for the gym.
     A mile into the two mile walk and he was ready to go home.  He had made some effort towards working out; the gym could come tomorrow.  Besides, mother had chores for him; he needed to get them done before picking up sister.
     Back at home he gathered the bed-liner for his truck, dragged it out of the garage, and was just about ready to drive to the carwash when he made a shocking discovery: there was a recliner in the back of his car.  At that moment, he realized he wouldn't be getting anything done today.
     The bed-liner went back into the garage, he went into the truck, and then on to Wal*Mart.  Two weeks now, he had been struggling; two weeks the cookie dough had called his name.
     Back at home; watching TV, eating the entire tube of sweet, sweet salmonela risk...
     3:45.  Time to pick up sister.  He went to the school, all three hundred pounds of beard and sleep pants, and tried his hardest not to look creepy.  At 4:00, he called mother.  "Yeah, is there a bail-time?  Can I just go home and she can make it back on her own?"
     "You're not supposed to pick her up today; she has piano.  We told you last night."
     Back at home, watching TV, regretting the cookie dough...