Chicago In Mind

*Takes bite out of cactus pear. Chokes.*

Growing up I had certain challenges.

Pop sez it wuz becuz I drank unfiltered orange juice infested with cockroaches when I was but a mere baby.

Bot I knows de reel troot.

Do you like my funny writing by the way?

I crack myself to sleep every fucking night.

No. Pop was an idiot. Cockroaches never hurt no one. Here's the real reason why.

My brain was invaded by animated cyborg-knights, who for no other reason except to impress a few slutty damsels, began hacking it. I can still hear the laughter and sweet eight syllable rhyming couplets of that old French Christian coot Chretien De Troyes in my head.

I know. Sounds "crazy." Who gets to define that anyway?

Perhaps because I was carefree, I was considered weird in the suburban Chicago school I attended in my dreams. I didn't make many friends, but I had a girlfriend. Oh, Lunetta and your cyrstal eyes peering through my creepy soul! "She was a bit surreal, she painted all her toes and on her face she wore dentures clamped tightly to her nose."

Why, I even brought her home for some good old style cooking. Flummery I think it was.

Mother, a committed Cubs fan, adored her. Everyday she read her stories about H.H. Holmes. We'd go for long canoe rides (Mr. Canoehead, where are you?) on Lake Michigan just to circumnavigate the cul-de-sac shouting, 'Du Sable est mon dieu!'

Pops never joined us because he was obsessed with that stupid, insipid goat. Incidentally, he coined the term 'bah.'

Eventually, I overcame all mental, physical (I was hunched and had two "left" feet) and geographical obstacles and got a job at a used diaper recycling company. I separated the shit from the diaper.

I never got any raises. People struggled with my floccinaucinihilipilification. They also found it disturbing that I kept listening to a recording of this ball game played back in 1932.

The psychologist could prove little.

Praise baseball for providing an escape. Feeling the Wrigley circus wind on my face filled me with much comfort and joy. Growing up, I would sit with my eyes closed, sucking in the Merion Bluegrass scent and absorbing it all. It's how I lost my front teeth thanks to a Johnny Kling liner.

Mother, me and Lunetta still get together to listen to the Cubs.

Although I'm not sure if they hear six feet under.

*Exits in Vaudeville dance*

Fin.