Working box, as it was called, was often fairly solitary. While I sat in the ticket booth, my co-workers manned the concession stand down the hall.
In between shows, there wasn't much to do aside from helping the occasional "When's the next showing of 'Dumb and Dumbler'?" customer.
And no, I didn't misspell that. That's what she asked. She also asked about "Richie Richie" as well as another title that was just so wrong, I'm not going to mention it.
Anyhow, I passed the time by writing. Armed with either a notebook, or scroll-like on a roll of rough and amazingly water-resistant brown paper towels, I scribbled furiously.
One day, much to my amazement, I wrote a poem. Now keep in mind, I'm not a poet at all. My best work up to that point was
Roses are swell
Violets are nifty
I got your valentine
For a quarter at Thrifty
Real poetry was over my head with its use of symbolism and abstract imagery. So when I read what I had written, I wondered just what the hell happened. Did I zone out that much? Was I tripping on the Windex fumes after cleaning the box office window?
Beats me. Even now, a dozen or so years later, I still can't imagine having written it if I didn't have the hard copy in my own writing.
I see references to commercials and Michael Jackson's marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, but everything else is just a mishmash of images, almost like flipping through channels late at night.
If you want to sample this oddity for yourself, have at it. It's long, and I can't say that it's particularly good (I wouldn't really know, honestly), but it is weird, and that's what we're all about at this blog, right? I would like to clarify that I was stone sober when I wrote this (I was at work, after all).
I bask in the glory of my Barka Lounger
Because I'm not a La Z Boy
Overdub a Jack in the Box springing
Or falling or summering — no matter
I sing the words because I can't hum
The darn thing has wings — so I can fly
To my Craftmatic Adjustable Coffin
And sleep restfully forever or at least
Until the Bunch comes back on because
Marcia was the cutest — ow, my nose!
What is that noise trip-trapping at the olfactory?
Could it be Jeno's Pizza Rolls?
And what roles
Do pizzas have?
I guess olive to learn another day.
How do you smell relief?
Just don't light a match
Because only you can prevent forest fires.
I have a not-so-fresh feeling
I should have used a Ziploc bag
Yellow and blue make green, which
Is the whole point of watching anyway
Watch, sleep — perchance to think
Make sure your answer is in the form of
A question? I'm sorry
We have to take your first answer
Because the second one was right
Skinned purple dinosaurs are on
No relief no commercials no hope
This is your brain on drugs...A fried egg
Doing the Humpty Dance. I just hope
It was margarine because butter
PARKAY
Is high in cholesterol
My dog's bigger than your dog
'Cause he eats mailmen who take steroids
A is for anarchy
J is for jenius
Cinnamon toasty, finger-licking good
The Colonel will always have a friend
Wearing big red shoes.
It is the shoes
Start a revolution with Elvis-in-law
Moonwalk through
Turn the other cheek
But don't squeeze the Charmin
Mr. Whipple and Mrs. Olsen got married
Which made for some interesting coffee
They had in France what was the
Name of that waiter — Jean-Luc?
Boldly serving coffee where no one
Has gone to celebrate the
Moments of your life
Send the
Very best to get your z's but avoid
Operating heavy machinery as you
Can learn a lot from a dummy
I love you, you love me, my
Parents were Grimace and Dino
Yabba-Dabba-Does She or
Doesn't she?
Only her plastic surgeon
Nose for sure.
Are you sure? Raise
Your hand if you really think you ought to
And now a word from our sponsor about these
Messages after this
Word we'll be right
Back.
Sorry, Alex.
What is back?
Daily Double Martini, extra dry
Shaken, not stirred
Don't forget the olive
Blow me down.
No comments:
Post a Comment