: October 2008

To make up for the literary abortion I posted last time... Here is the full text of Variations on a Happy Ending (only E was posted here before), a series of short stories in the scheme of "Happy Endings" by Margaret Atwood. The assignment was to create a unifying happy ending theme and create interesting short stories based around it. Check the "comments" section over the next few days if you would like my explanation of this piece & its mechanics. Also, this is obviously (c) to 'Ren' Weeks, so no copying, k?

Variations on a Happy Ending
A.
___Sarah is born to a well-to-do couple. Her father is a neurosurgeon and her mother is a school teacher. Sarah’s parents have high hopes that she will become a neurosurgeon like her father and enroll her in the best private schools possible. Sarah, however, is not proficient in life sciences but is a talented flautist. She feels like a failure for her poor performance in school and plays her flute to release stress. Her father overhears her playing one night and, realizing his daughter’s talent, stops pressuring her to be something that she is not. She becomes an accomplished flautist that her parents are very proud of. More importantly, she accepts who she is and is content.

(Wham, bam, bland -- this is the end. Now let's make things more interesting.)

B.
___Jenna, from the time she was a young child, had a love affair with food. Her doctor’s initial enthusiasm about her growth rate turned to disapproval as she stopped growing upwards and started growing outwards. She fancied all types of edibles, from near-expired dime store candies to expensive culinary delicacies. Throughout high school, she tried her talents at cooking, creating decadent chocolate cupcakes that always sold out at the marching band bake sales (she’d wanted to try out for cheerleading but was gently redirected). While her sister Alexandria, a tall and buxom blonde who idealized society’s standard for anorexic beauty, had constant gentleman callers, Jenna poured herself into the gustable arts, eventually applying with success to a prestigious culinary school. Her mother did not approve of this, noting that she would only get fatter if she was constantly surrounded by food.
___As she neared her twenties (and two hundreds), Jenna began to become self conscious about her weight. She did not care so much about her physical appearance, but rather, the way it made people behave towards her. She loved touring restaurants and exploring the tastes of exciting new dishes prepared by the city’s top chefs, but began to notice other patrons staring and quietly whispering about her as she ate. Humiliated, she started eating in secret, sneaking snacks into her purse when she went out and binging during bathroom visits. This behavior made her ashamed, which in turn made her more depressed, which inevitably made her eat more. By the time of her sister’s wedding, she weighed nearly three hundred pounds, was constantly depressed, and ate with feverish compulsion.
___Alexandria’s wedding reception was a veritable orgy of fine foods; there was roasted duck with a honey-mustard glaze, steamed green beans with neatly sliced almonds, an organic arugula salad topped with the finest Alaskan salmon, and a positively decadent chocolate cheesecake for dessert. Jenna indulged, knowing the cost of this extravagant feast and eating every morsel with renewed enthusiasm. When it was time to cut the wedding cake, she marveled at the baker’s skilled craftsmanship of the elaborate pastry and experienced nearly orgasmic euphoria at the rich, moist texture.
___As she finished a second piece of the cake, she came to notice her sister and several of the bridesmaids snickering at her from the next table over. Alexandria raised her bony finger to her pointed nose, pushing it upwards to mimic a pig’s snout, and snorted in a very cruel and immature fashion. Her friends erupted into laughter, and one asked if Jenna would ever get married, or if she just planned on making love to the cake. Jenna ran from the reception hall, tears burning in the corners of her eyes.
___She hated the way that crying made her eyes puffy, as if she weren’t “puffy” enough already. She sat on the steps outside, blotting her runny mascara with her doughy hands and quaking with sobs. The valet, a tall, slender black man who looked both very fine and very uncomfortable in his stiffly corn-starched suit, stood alongside her and lit his cigarette, taking a long, slow drag.
___“Why you cryin’?” he asked, his words exiting in a cloud of smoke.
___“Because,” Jenna sniffled, “my sister and her friends made fun of me.”
___The valet gave her a sideways glance.
___“Because you fat?” he asked, and Jenna’s mouth flapped like a fish’s with indignity.
___The valet paid no mind and continued.
___“You care if you fat?” Jenna had never thought of this.
___“No. I don’t. I love food, and cooking, and baking. It’s who I am.” She lowered her gaze to the sidewalk. “I just don’t like how other people treat me because I’m fat.”
___“Fuck ‘em,” said the valet, and Jenna blushed at his crassness. “You know why they make fun of you? Cause they ain’t got nothin’ in the world that they love as much as you love food, so they gotta be nasty all the time to make everyone else just as miserable as they be.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his shiny black shoe. “Way I see it, if you passionate about anything, you be proud of that, cause there ain’t too many people can say the same.”
___Jenna smiled as the valet ambled away. She withdrew a bag of bland crackers she’d been keeping in her purse lest anything happen that should demand a bathroom excursion and the assistance of food. She chucked them into the nearby garbage can. Why should she eat those when there was such fine cuisine just waiting to be explored at the reception, after all? Yes, Jenna loved food, and yes, she was fat. This, she accepted -- and was content.

C.
___“The Bible says Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.” This is what Mark’s father would say, followed by a great whooping laugh that should shake his ponderous gut, every time the matter of gay marriage was brought to the table. Mark had a feeling that if his father was so opposed to the union of Adam and Steve, he would have real issues with John and Richard and Mark. This was why he attempted to overdose on prescription sleep aids the night John and Richard suggested that he inform his family about the trio’s upcoming marriage.
___From a young age, Mark had known that he was different. It wasn’t even the archetypical desire to play house instead of cowboys and Indians, nor did he ever feel tempted to prance in front of a mirror in his mother’s high heels and underwear. Simply enough, he was a sensitive, compassionate young lad disinterested the chest-beating masculine pursuits of his peers. He formed close friendships, was open with his emotions, dressed tidily but not superfluously, and was very understanding even of those students deemed social pariahs within his class.
___As puberty began in all of its acne-addled, hair-sprouting glory, however, Mark began to realize that his predicament may have been more complicated than a slight variability in personality. For one, his sexual interests, so new and awkward that he was not even sure what to make of them, seemed to be directed towards males. He showered alone in the handicapped stall at school after baseball practice, a strategy for hiding unwanted erections inspired by his muscular nude classmates, with much chagrin. But more so than being interested in other men, he found that he often developed deep romantic interests in more than one man at a time.
___His father had always told him that faggots were promiscuous, jumping from dick to dick as though playing musical chairs (the man’s own words, which Mark hated). As this unconventional interest in other men grew, he began to think his father’s bigoted assumptions were true. Terrified that he would become the stereotype of anonymous rest station sex, contracting STDs and attending pride parades, Mark went to his minister seeking guidance. The clergyman advised that he pray the devil out of him, resting all homosexual urges and developing relationships with women.
___This experiment was short lived. He met a nice girl named Anna who was delighted to be dating a refined and attractive young man, admitting that when she first met him, she thought he might be gay. The relationship ended abruptly in a fit of cruel laughter when he failed to achieve an erection as they made out in a drive-in theater. She’d called him a queer and told most of his classmates about the embarrassing ordeal.
___While attending a Walk for AIDs as a freshmen in college, Mark met John and Richard. They were a happily established gay couple who had been dating since high school. Mark envied their relationship, and moreover marveled at how loving and committed they were; didn’t his father say that gays just slept around, never forming legitimate bonds - all the more evidence that they were sinners? Mark began spending more time with the couple, learning that homosexuals often enjoyed the same monogamous or polyfidelitous relationships as heterosexuals. In fact, John and Richard noted that although they were currently a pair, they were actually polyamorous themselves and hoping to find a third.
___Mark had never heard this terminology before, and looked it up online when he got home to avoid appearing ignorant. He discovered that, much as he had felt as a teenager, many people are capable of forming true romantic bonds with more than one other person. Such individuals were known as polyamorous, and when they entered a committed relationship, it had the same rules for fidelity as a monogamous one -- simply with more partners.
___Eventually and perhaps inevitably, Mark, John, and Richard’s friendship became something more, and he entered their relationship as part of a polyfidelitous triad. For two years, he kept this a secret from his family, not only worried about their reaction, but plagued by shame as he struggled to accept his sexuality. One evening, after a long discussion, the trio decided upon being married in Sweden. Mark had never been so overjoyed nor so terrified in his life. The thought of sharing his life with John and Richard brought him to the verge of giddy tears, yet it also cemented in place his identity as a polyamorous homosexual. Thus, when his partners reminded him that he would have to tell his family lest they wish to attend the wedding, he was gripped by horror.
___He barely remembered the events leading up to the overdose, only that he was very intoxicated and that they bitter pills made him gag as they rained down his throat. He awoke in a hospital bed with a dry mouth, pounding headache, and both hands being grasped tightly by John at one side, Richard at the other. They hugged him close, wept, and reassured him that everything would be ok. Sandwiched between their sobbing bodies with their tears raining down and dampening his hair, Mark became aware of the fact that they really, truly loved him. More importantly, they loved him because of who he was, not despite who he was; they accepted him wholeheartedly. The message was contagious, and for once, he was able to accept who he was -- and feel content with it.

D.
___For as long as he could recall, Andrew had felt as though there was a cavernous void in his life, just waiting to be filled by the right moment. As a young child, he found himself bored by the trite games his classmates played, stacking blocks, pretending to be police officers, or creating hideous finger paintings of amorphous plants and animals - you know, the kind parents pretend to cherish, where too many colors are used so everything blends together into the same uniform shit brown. He was dysphoric, never laughing and smiling like the other children, and indeed seemed to derive pleasure only from the sadness or anger of his classmates. He discovered this when a little girl proudly waved her drawing of a dog in his face and he, his personal space violated, shredded the hackneyed art in a fit of rage.
___Throughout elementary school, Andrew frequently found himself in the principal’s office for defying teachers, refusing to participate in group activities, bullying other kids, and stealing from the school’s store. His parents, though dismayed by his behavior, were certain that with enough guidance and affection, he would grow out of it. Their son, they reasoned, must have been going through a rebellious phase due to his father taking up longer hours at the office, and made a concerted effort to spend more time with him. Yet the more they showered him with affection and tried to become more active components in his life, the more he acted up, bad behaviors spilling over into the home.
___His mother, thinking herself clever, purchased her son a fish, hoping it would teach him responsibility. This was in spite of the fact that she herself had not been responsible enough to learn proper care, so the goldfish inevitably died from stewing in the ammonia of its own building waste in an undersized bowl. Andrew did not cry or demand another fish like most children, but was fascinated by its death. He did not let his mother remove the body for two full days. She took this as mourning, but in fact he was thrilled by the sight of its eyes dissolving out of its skull and flesh sloughing off to reveal bones as it rapidly decomposed in the water.
___To replace the fish, she bought the boy a hamster. Things went well until she came home to the gruesome sight of her son dissecting (actually, vivisecting was more accurate) the tiny rodent the night before his eleventh birthday. Horrified and deeply concerned by the brutality, she put her son through a battery of psychiatric evaluations, during which his therapists noted a callous disregard for others paired with an utter absence of guilt, lacking ability to form normal social bonds, and an alarming penchant for manipulating and taking advantage of others. Twice-weekly psychotherapy was recommended.
___Andrew hated therapy, and eventually learned how to respond in a way that the doctors approved of. What’s more, he learned how to suppress his troublesome behavior at school, where news of his misconduct inevitably found its way back to his mother. Over time, the therapists proclaimed that his brief stint with mental illness had been a fluke likely caused by stress, and his mother became proud of her seemingly reformed son. Andrew was merely pleased to finally be left alone, and also felt some amusement that he could so easily fool those around him. Thus, he maintained the façade into early adulthood.
___But Andrew was discontent. His mind was constantly restless, plagued by dark thoughts that surfaced at random and refused to be suppressed. He became obsessed with the idea of violence and found it progressively more difficult to fake the smiling, charismatic charm he had built his life upon. He hungered to fill that strange void that he could not understand, watching passers-by with predatory intent from his office window. The mundane job could not fulfill him, and this restless gnawed at him like feasting jackals.
___One night, he awoke to find a woman in a short black skirt and ratty fishnet thigh-highs lingering beneath the street light outside of his apartment complex, fingers quivering as she tried to her cigarette - likely the effects of too much methamphetamine. Andrew was simultaneously repulsed and captivated by the whore’s revealing attire, body thin and bruised, hair mounded in a greasy pile over her gaunt, pocked face.
___He crept from his apartment, skin forming into gooseflesh with the sheer thrill of silently stalking up behind her. His world felt sharp and focused as he grabbed a brick that had broken free of the small terraced garden outside of his complex, wielding it tightly clenched in one fist and preparing to strike. His shadow fell into the glow of the street light, and he could hear the hooker’s phlegmy breathing just before she became aware of his presence behind her. She started to turn, startled but not crying out yet - perhaps hoping it was a John.
___Before she could face him, Andrew struck out with the brick. It connected with her skull, making a loud, wet, crunch that sprayed crimson across the pavement. The hooker totted for a moment before pitching forward, starting to convulse before she even hit the ground, a high pitched and inhuman noise issuing from her throat. She flopped like his dying goldfish, mouth opening and closing in a similar fashion as he brought the brick down once more, this time striking her face. Now her mouth gaped messy red.
___From there he was the conductor of a symphony of suffering, striking again and again until the brick’s hard, cold surface was slippery with things softer and warmer. He panted, leaning over the now still form of the prostitute, watching blood bloom like a halo around the remains of her skull. As she died, he felt more alive, and only then did Andrew embrace who he was. He was a sociopath -- and for the first time in his life, he was content.

E.
___Rhett never meant to harm his Alphess. He had no reason to; she was always good to him. She’d found him when he was just a small, lost puppy, wandering alone in the streets after his mother had been hit by a car. She could not replace his canine mother, but the Alphess nurtured him, keeping him warm, offering him food, and even allowing him to stay in her home. She was also the one who walked him, every day, in all weather, and that more than anything else was Rhett’s favorite thing to do. For all of these reasons, he loved her the way dogs love humans.
___Rhett’s father was a greyhound and his mother a husky; fast and strong were in his blood. As a puppy he would smell the air, feel the wind in his short black fur, and want nothing more than to run at his top speed down the sidewalk, enjoying the thunder of the pavement beneath his paws. But the Alphess was not young, fast, or strong; she was old, slow, and weak. She could not run with him, and grew angry with his tugging and lunging. She taught him not to run, but never was able to take the urge away.
___Two years later, Rhett was a larger, stronger dog, and his Alphess only slower and weaker. She barely had the energy to chase the squirrels away from the bird feeder, a task Rhett took up by barking through the open window so that they scattered in all directions. One morning, while returning home from a walk, Rhett saw two squirrels fighting atop the bird feeder, chattering with their great plumes of tails flicking and jerking angrily. They were distracted, and he could catch them; he wanted to catch them for his Alphess and knew she would be very proud.
___But he was only a dog, his thoughts likely limited to impulse. When he lunged forward suddenly in pursuit of his quarry, the Alphess pitched forwards, hitting the ground with a funny little shriek like a wounded animal. She couldn’t get back up. He doubled back, whining and licking at the air in submissive concern, and she struck him hard in the face with her little frail hands. She called him a Bad Dog.
___Rhett spent the next two weeks at a dog shelter. The first few days, he waited for his Alphess, but she did not come back for the Bad Dog. The next few days, he wallowed in sorrow, pining for his master. After that, he looked to each person that came through the doors with guarded optimism, tail wagging slung between his legs and head lowered. They never stopped to look at him; he was too old, too big, or too plain. At the end of two weeks, they’d moved him to a cage in the back, beyond where people never even bothered to look, alongside snarling ferals and sickly old animals. There was a door in the back of this room, and whenever it opened, he smelled harsh chemical odors, emptied bladders, and the pervasive odor of death. It frightened him.
___One afternoon, a Man and his Boy stopped in to the shelter. The Boy had something wrong with his legs; they were stick-thin and pale, and his father pushed him along in a strange chair with wheels. The shelter staff showed the Boy little lap dogs, and old dogs who didn’t have the energy to run and play, but the Boy pointed to Rhett enthusiastically. His father pushed the wheelchair closer, and Rhett sniffed and licked his outstretched hands.
___“You don’t want him; he’s a Bad Dog. Broke his last owner’s hip pulling,” warned one staffer.
___“Horrible leash manners, and he’s so fast when he gets running.” confirmed another.
___“He’s perfect!” the Boy proclaimed, smiling widely.
___Rhett did not understand their words, but his tail wagged at the sound of the Boy’s voice.
___Initially, Rhett had been afraid he’d hurt the Boy like he'd hurt the Alphess. He walked slowly, refused to play tug of war, and was very careful not to jump up no matter how excited he was when the Boy came home from school. The Boy seemed disappointed, and Rhett was confused. Then, one crisp winter day, when the snow was freshly fallen in a shimmering white blanket over the hills, the Boy’s father carried his son outside, whistling for Rhett to follow. The dog watched as the Man lowered the Boy’s body into a small wooden sled, head tilted and tail wagging. The Man tied a rope hanging from the front of the sled to the back of Rhett’s collar, then threw a tennis ball. Rhett watched the ball longingly as it sailed through the air, tumbling down the snowy hill, but he didn’t want to run with his leash on.
___“Go get it,” the man sternly ordered. Rhett whined and slowly approached the ball. As the sled moved behind him, the Boy giggled excitedly.
___“Faster, Rhett!” he yelled. The dog picked up the ball, doubling back on his rope and dropping it in the Boy’s gloved hands. This time, the ball was thrown even further, and the Boy yelled “Go get it!” with an urgency that made Rhett trot after it this time. The child’s laughter grew more excited, and the happier he was, the happier Rhett was.
___“Run, Rhett!” cried the Boy, a smile lighting up his entire face and voice rolling with laughter. Rhett understood, finally. He smelled the cold winter air, felt the wind in his short black fur, and for once, he ran, enjoying the thunder of his paws through the crisp new snow. He ran for the Boy, for he had legs for both of them. He was a large, strong dog, made for running, and in his own canine way, he finally accepted that. And Rhett was content, because the Boy was happy. When their games came to an end come lunch time, the Boy hugged his dog close and said,
___“You’re a Good Dog.”

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Heartache in the Heartland

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Carpe Eventus

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Variations on a Happy Ending - Full Text

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