Engl 205 Chapbook

COMEDIC RELIEF 5 SIDNEY STELLA

You miss 100% of the shots you dont take.

- Wayne Gretzky

- Michael Scott

- Sidney Stella

2

INDEX

Dina Del Bucchia / Sanschit / TL Godfrey / Becky / Karlie

ADVICE TIPS / QUICK TIPS / HOUSEHOLD TIPS/ PEANUT / THE BENCH / H.STYLES / GUCCI / ICE CREAM/ ROCKETS / JULY

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR 3

The saying "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get" came to my mind several hundred times during the process of this project.

Luckily, you don't have to get through the shitty pieces to find the chosen ones. I have already done that for you!

Enjoy these tasful pieces!

SIDNEY /

Wear something comfortable for you 1 Speak when spoken to

4

ADVICE TIPS

Do not go in unsolicited Read body language 2 Never say, "You people."

Never say, "Your people."

Never say, "When I was your age."

Never say, "Never." 3 Do not clear your throat, this intimidates and can cause a mirroring effect in the throat of the advicee, which in turn can cause a Stomp- like reverberation that builds to a small earthquake.

For best accuracy be a witch.

DINA DEL BUCCHIA / 1 This could be anything from sweatpants, a catsuit, leggings and a novelty t-shirt, a breezy sundress, your ex's favourite snowsuit, etc.

3 Never may be used if referencing either Justin Bieber's song, "Never Say Never" or the documentary about him of the same name and if your advice is to listen to or watch these for reasons that do not include judgment.

5

2 If someone looks nervous, do not raise your voice.

If they are rolling around on the floor screaming, "STOP! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS STOP!" then walk away. Likely you will not be able to speak to this person again.

QUICK TIPS

6

Broken nail: scotch tape Broken heart: scotch, VHS tape of Fatal Attraction Broke: slightly richer friends Bad friends: trash talk Stinky garbage: Squeeze of lemon Bland flavour: Squeeze of lemon Confusion: Three hashtags. Maximum.

Feelings of inadequacy: Shot of vodka, shot of cortisol, gunshot into a living creature.

Lack of feeling in extremities. Stay inside.

DINA /

/ LED / ANID

DEL / BUCCHIA/ BUCCHIA / DEL / DINA /

/ LED /AIHCCUB / AIHCCUB / LED / ANID

DEL / BUCCHIA/ BUCCHIA / DEL / DINA /

/ ANID

/ LED /AIHCCUB

7

DINA /

/ ANID

HOUSEHOLD TIPS

8

Work too much, collapse in bed, worry about bills and relationships and that shirt you shouldn't have bought and then you'll forget to eat dinner 1 Don't have children. 2 Not enough people ask the right questions about household tips. For one, how do you make your household sexier? The answer is to masturbate in the linen closet. But also keep a floral sachet in there.

A stud finder is not a joke.

Save the rubber bands that come with your banh mis. Use them to keep your plastic spoons ands forks from rattling around in your junk drawer. 3 If you must dust underneath the narrowest crevice then use the cheap lace underwear you were hoping would make you feel more beautiful.

They will look so unappealing that you won't want to wear them again.

Cut up your credit card to prevent further debt. These shards can also be used to spear pickles or cheese cubes at a very casual get together A glamorous way to display your refuse is in a regular garbage can, but decorated with the scarves you thought would add a jaunty flavor to your look. 4

DINA DEL BUCCHIA / 2 Another great money-saving solution! Probably the top tip for any household looking to save 3 This allows you to let your dishes pile up for longer as you'll be able to use your organized plastic cutlery in a pinch 4 The scarves will also be improved by the everyday stink and stains of all of your carefully hand-picked, carefully curated garbage

9

1 These are great ways to save money on meals

Everything was good untill a peanut came.

I shoot baskets and it developed my name.

game, I was inclined to sieze and shoot the ball, only untill the peanut came.

10

PEANUT

I play ball- the peanut was fucking my

I could feel the size of the ball was not enough, But I wanted to touch her peanuts in front of me, I sought to meet them with my mouth, With every dribble, I wanted to shout!

SANCHIT SUKHIJA /

Not just Peanut, but deflation was ill wind for my game.

I wanted to go on a horse ride, With my mare going out and loud!

With those paddles at my side, I seek to see her wide, I pray, & I'll keep day-dreaming about it, untill I die!

11

THE BENCH

12

Everett Watson came home on a Tuesday morning. As he waited for his car, he was unaware that his house key would not work in his front door, just as he was unaware that a bench with his name on it sat on his front lawn. What he did know was that he hated his vacation on the beach.

He felt his body looked like a pale beached whale gawked at by golden gods awed and horrified that a majestic creature was rotting in the sun on a rented hotel towel. He was not concerned, yet, with the short obituary etched into the bench. He was obsessively going over his interaction with the woman who sat next to him on the plane. Thirty minutes into the flight he noticed his fingers smelled of coconut lotion, a smell he detested. It reminded him of the glistening tourists lathering it onto their bodies; a whale had no right to be sexually provoked by such perfect creatures. Each sniff made him at once painful-

13

ly aroused and awkwardly conflicted in his impotence. It made the woman in 15E highly uncomfortable when he leaned over and asked her to smell them. He needed confirmation that they did, in fact, smell exactly like coconut. She had paged the flight attendant and furiously whispered that the way he sniffed his fingers was more pornographic than casual. He was quickly chastised for his obsession and offer of inclusion.

"They smell like coconut," he tried to explain, "I don't like coconut." He sounded like a child, lip protruded and in trouble.

"Sir, please don't make me inform the pilot that you are being unruly." Her face was matronly and cold; she had given up any enjoyment of her job after the fifty-second time she had to deal with a frequent flyer addicted to high altitude penile exposure. She had no time for his low-level perversions, the first class still had not received their hot towels and complimentary nuts.

"I'll go wash them. I'll be no trouble." Crammed into the bathroom, he felt like a sardine gifted with flight as he washed his fingers. He wondered if they would smell better if they swam in the blue toilet water; the sharp smell of disinfectant would burn away the blubber and free him to exit the bathroom as a man. 15E had become first class 2B when he returned to his seat. He sat alone for the remainder of the flight.

He did not tip the valet when his grey car pulled to the curb. He did not feel badly about it. He had overpaid the waiter at the hotel, his fat fingers hit the incorrect amount and he was too embarrassed to correct it. His previous generosity, he thought, balanced out his cur-

14

rent cheapness. Unable to take this karmic currency to the bank, the valet in turn did not feel bad about picking in his nose twice and wiping it on the leather upholstery.

Everett did not notice the bench when he pulled up to his house. He was focused on Mrs. Hannagan bent over her garden. She wore sailing shorts and the varicose veins on her legs looked like exotic vines. She had run around and was being overrun by her flowers. Next spring, he fantasized, she would win the Gardening Societies 'garden of the season' for the plants growing across her body. They would probably serve fingers foods, Everett reasoned. He was hungry. The last time he ate had been at the hotel.

Mrs. Hannagan watched him in shock as he got out of his car. Her face and the ghostly pansies in the garden could have been twins. She pulled up anchor and scuttled into the calmer waters of her house. As he fumbled with his keys, he wondered what was in the fridge. He lived alone and no one could judge him for scrapping the mold off of a block of cheddar to use in a sandwich. They would judge him if he ordered food. Sally Meyer, from down the street, counted the times pizza arrived and used it as a conversational gossip to talk about at her jogging club.

"Sally needs to buzz off," he grumbled. He hated her as much as one could hate an annoying health nut but was too polite to say it to her face. The only thing he could say to her large mouth and beady eyes was a vague promise to think about jogging next week. Everett was abruptly returned to reality when his key did not turn in the lock. He jiggled it right and then left, holding his breath.

"Oh my," he whispered to the door. He was not used to

15

his familiar actions giving unfamiliar results. Stepping away, he looked through the window. He expected to see the hideous coat rack he found at a garage sale for three dollars but saw a blank slate. His home had been deleted and replaced with empty rooms. He tried the door one more time before he set his bag down. He backed up into the driveway and looked at the house.

It did not look any different. It was the same home he left before his vacation. The same house that looked exactly like every other house in his neighbourhood. He looked around waiting for someone to reveal the elaborate prank played on him. He smiled to show he was a good sport. It froze on his face when he remembered that he did not have any friends to play pranks on him.

The closest thing to a friend he had was Jerry Holbrook at work. They shared a cubicle and he always asked Everett how his weekend was but never waited for the answer.

Standing in the driveway, Everett looked up and down the street. The lawns were empty and the street was quiet. Everett noticed the bench sitting on his lawn. He was only slightly convinced that it had not been there when he left for his vacation seven days prior. He felt an uncomfortable tightening of his digestive system as he looked at the bench. A small brass plaque had been mounted on it that read: In memorial of Everett Watson: a neighbour Everett knew he was alive, his pulse was faster than usual and his intestines felt like they had been replaced with leaky water. He touched his chest for confirmation.

Everett Watson was, in fact, very much alive. It was an

16

easy mistake to think the thud, thud, thud against the pavement was his heart pounding out of his ears as Sally Meyer jogged up to him. Her steps slowed down as she watched him watching the bench. She stopped a few feet away from him.

"It's nice, isn't it?" her voice was only a few pitches below sucking on a helium balloon and wheezed with the smugness that radiated off of her in a toxic cloud. Without turning around, Everett knew she would be wearing a bright pink jogging outfit that highlighted her overly tanned skin and blonde hair. She reminded him, sometimes when he was being unkind, of a circus sun hoisted above the crowd as a set piece for some elaborate clown show. When he turned, she seemed to glow in a divinely pink light; if Jesus wore a pink jogging outfit and countered the times pizza was delivered to a house, he would look like Sally Meyer.

"Nice?" He echoed. Everett had never fully mastered the use of words and in this moment, what little control he had of them crumbled away. Sally Meyer continued to jog in place, she would waste no time of her obsessive jogging even for a conversation, and gave a sage nod.

"You betcha!" She was chipper, jogging always made her happy, "the whole neighbourhood came together and chipped in."

"Chipped in?"

"It's tragic, really." Dripping synthetic sympathy, Sally Meyer stopped jogging as she spoke. If jogging made her happy, gossip made her legs quiver in an orgasmic pleasure Billy Meyer, her husband of ten years, could never achieve.

17

"When we heard that he died last week and that no one came forward to claim his belongings, the whole neighbourhood felt bed. We couldn't imagine being so alone," Sally gestured towards the bench, "so we decided to get this bench, so he'll never be forgotten. Not to mention come tax time, we can all write off what we gave. Every bit counts!"

"No one came forward?" Everett gurgled. He knew he was alive, the anxiety sweat trickling down his back reminded him very much of the fact, but the knowledge no one showed up to say otherwise tasted like vomit in the back of his mouth.

"No Siree! A service came, took all his things for donations. I think Mrs. Hannagan, just over yonder, stole a hideous coat rack when the mover guys weren't looking," she leaned forward to share, "I'm not surprised, honestly. He was always a bit weird. Like, he would sign up for community jogging but always blow us off. We'd see him watching from the window as we went by." Sally Meyer began to move her feet again, shaking off the creepy chills Everett Watson's existence gave her.

"Did you know him?"

Everett turned away from Sally Meyer. Her endless amount of energy made him nervous just as the bench made him nervous about whom he thought he was.

"Sort of."

"Why didn't you come forward?" Sally Meyer sounded disinterested of his answer, ready to continue jogging but put the recently deceased behind her.

"I was on vacation."

"Probably wouldn't have made a difference if you

18

ask me. He was a strange guy but now we have a nice bench!" her steps began to quicken and before she jogged off she said, "If you're interested, a bunch of us go for a jog in the morning. We meet at the bench here."

Before Everett could give her an excuse, Sally Meyer jogged down the street, a pink sun disappearing over the horizon. He took his coat off and folded it neatly and placed it on the bench. On top, he placed his keys and his wallet. He looked one last time at his empty house, remembering that even when it was filled it was rather empty. Everett turned from the bench and began to walk down the street. His walk turned into a jog and then a run. Perhaps, Everett thought, he would go to the beach.

TL GODFREY /

19

HARRY STYLES / GUCCI / ICE CREAM

20

Harry Styles I think I'd better suit you boy I'd feel more smooth than that Gucci on you You look like a fancy pants But boy purple pants Don't make me dance

Gucci Gang Couture, Gucci Drip of an ice-cream cone, Gucci Dog on a catwalk, Gucci Two headed cat, Gucci Can't afford, Gucci

Ice Cream It tastes so good U get shivers down your spine Two flavours at onceIf U don't mind Quick licks before it drips

U can't wait for the next time A new flavour to blow Ur mind

BECKY KUMBIER /

21

The freeze of Ur cheeks Sensitive to the teeth

ROCKETS / JULY

22

Rockets Hey rocket man I'd like to tune up your engine Hear that loud roar again, When you blast off

KARLIE DEAN / July It was a hot summer day I was laying with my bae He gave his hair a flick I looked longingly at his lips

23

24

SHOUT OUT TO MY PEEPS

Dina Sanchit TL Godfrey Becky Karlie

A special thank-you to all of the contributors of this chapbook!

Without you, the pages would literally be blank.

25

While all of these contributors are special (in their own way) I want to give an extra shoutout to Dina Del Bucchia for replying to my email and not sending it to her junk mail.Thanks boo.

THANK YOU

COME AGAIN