An iguana lurches into a general store. He appears drunk. He hits the door frame on the way in and almost knocks over a display of tomato soup cans. Behind the counter of the general store there is a penguin. He is smoking an unknown substance from a corncob pipe and reading The Iliad. The iguana sidles up to the counter, a sly, knowing grin on his face. The penguins eyes get larger and larger as the iguana approaches, and we see at the same time as the penguin that the iguana is not wearing pants!
During the entire following exchange, there are intermittent screams from outside the store. We cannot see outside, but it appears there is some sort of commotion that perhaps the iguana was involved in.
The iguana harrumphs loudly in his throat and grins up at the penguin. In a slurring, slightly British voice he says, Pardon me, sir, but do I hear you have a sale on oranges today?
We switch to the point of view of the penguin, looking down at the iguana. The penguin replies, Yes, sir, four for a dollar. We have ripe or non.
We now see up through the eye of the iguana. Its a loooooooong way up there, but he might be able to jump if he tries. Wouldnt that shock the penguin? The iguana giggles. He says, I am having a gathering of close friends tonight at my home. I would like five oranges, for which I will pay you one dollar and fourteen cents. I dare say that you are a handsome bird.
The penguin blushes. I only have four oranges left, he says.
Our point of view changes so that we are looking at the display of tomato soup cans. We see that each can has a painstakingly hand-painted picture of animalsdogs, chickens, llamas, emus, etc. The animals are dancing together under a high blue sky. The sun is smiling.
The iguana says, Well, then, I will take your four oranges and say good day to you, sir.
There is not another word, but we hear a bag rustling, four thumping noises, and the ring of a cash register. Then we see the iguana, staggering slightly, leave through the open door. On the sidewalk outside, a man runs quickly by, a white box in his hands. Very softly, we can hear the pages of the penguins book turning and what seems like the sounds of someone gently weeping.
*****
Hello children. What are you doing up from your naps? No whispering. No clandestine giggles. No touching each other especially. You need to rest. Ok, one more story
*****
Hey Jimmy, you seen that thing over in the alleyway yet? Looks as big as a person, maybe, all shoved up in back the cans and hidden by some trash. Maybe someone oughta check it out, see what it is. I sure aint going over there, man. Too much shit to do left in the office and if Mr. Skam gets back and my shit aint done you know hes gonna ream me for sure. You ever get the feeling people are laughing at you behind your back? I think everyone at this fucking job laughs at everyone else. They think its some kind of real world but what they dont realize is there are people that matter out there, beyond all this pale gray shit that passes for a life. Nothing here matters. What matters are those people that we can touch and feel and see.
The girl kept repeating it, word for word, over and over, right outside my bedroom window. Her voice was decaying and thick with fluid. I was tucked up inside the warm blankets and felt as secure as I could. But she was right outside the window. In another time, perhaps, before the phones and electricity went out, I would have tried to sneak past her. That wasnt an option now. Most everyone was dead. There was nowhere I could go. And still she was spewing out the same pointless drivel, pretending someone cared, pretending someone was paying attention. That was when I realized there was someone that was paying attention. Someone else was outside with her. I could hear his noxious breathing mixed with something that might have been giggling. He sounded almost human. However, Im sure he was just as dead and hopelessly lost as she was, not that I was going to bother myself with looking. I laughed at my momentary foolishness. And so I fell back asleep, blissful, dreaming, knowing when I woke that I would be with the people who actually mattered.
*****
now it's time for bed, children. no childish pranks anymore. stay on your blankets. yes, fred?
-"where did the story about the iguana come from?"
why, i wrote it when i was nine years old, fred. i hope you all liked it. yes, emma?
-"the story about the dead people scared me. why did you tell it right before naptime?"
i'm sorry, emma, some things must be told. that is what life is about. a story that important must be heard, no matter what time it is. now off to sleep, you little shits.
During the entire following exchange, there are intermittent screams from outside the store. We cannot see outside, but it appears there is some sort of commotion that perhaps the iguana was involved in.
The iguana harrumphs loudly in his throat and grins up at the penguin. In a slurring, slightly British voice he says, Pardon me, sir, but do I hear you have a sale on oranges today?
We switch to the point of view of the penguin, looking down at the iguana. The penguin replies, Yes, sir, four for a dollar. We have ripe or non.
We now see up through the eye of the iguana. Its a loooooooong way up there, but he might be able to jump if he tries. Wouldnt that shock the penguin? The iguana giggles. He says, I am having a gathering of close friends tonight at my home. I would like five oranges, for which I will pay you one dollar and fourteen cents. I dare say that you are a handsome bird.
The penguin blushes. I only have four oranges left, he says.
Our point of view changes so that we are looking at the display of tomato soup cans. We see that each can has a painstakingly hand-painted picture of animalsdogs, chickens, llamas, emus, etc. The animals are dancing together under a high blue sky. The sun is smiling.
The iguana says, Well, then, I will take your four oranges and say good day to you, sir.
There is not another word, but we hear a bag rustling, four thumping noises, and the ring of a cash register. Then we see the iguana, staggering slightly, leave through the open door. On the sidewalk outside, a man runs quickly by, a white box in his hands. Very softly, we can hear the pages of the penguins book turning and what seems like the sounds of someone gently weeping.
*****
Hello children. What are you doing up from your naps? No whispering. No clandestine giggles. No touching each other especially. You need to rest. Ok, one more story
*****
Hey Jimmy, you seen that thing over in the alleyway yet? Looks as big as a person, maybe, all shoved up in back the cans and hidden by some trash. Maybe someone oughta check it out, see what it is. I sure aint going over there, man. Too much shit to do left in the office and if Mr. Skam gets back and my shit aint done you know hes gonna ream me for sure. You ever get the feeling people are laughing at you behind your back? I think everyone at this fucking job laughs at everyone else. They think its some kind of real world but what they dont realize is there are people that matter out there, beyond all this pale gray shit that passes for a life. Nothing here matters. What matters are those people that we can touch and feel and see.
The girl kept repeating it, word for word, over and over, right outside my bedroom window. Her voice was decaying and thick with fluid. I was tucked up inside the warm blankets and felt as secure as I could. But she was right outside the window. In another time, perhaps, before the phones and electricity went out, I would have tried to sneak past her. That wasnt an option now. Most everyone was dead. There was nowhere I could go. And still she was spewing out the same pointless drivel, pretending someone cared, pretending someone was paying attention. That was when I realized there was someone that was paying attention. Someone else was outside with her. I could hear his noxious breathing mixed with something that might have been giggling. He sounded almost human. However, Im sure he was just as dead and hopelessly lost as she was, not that I was going to bother myself with looking. I laughed at my momentary foolishness. And so I fell back asleep, blissful, dreaming, knowing when I woke that I would be with the people who actually mattered.
*****
now it's time for bed, children. no childish pranks anymore. stay on your blankets. yes, fred?
-"where did the story about the iguana come from?"
why, i wrote it when i was nine years old, fred. i hope you all liked it. yes, emma?
-"the story about the dead people scared me. why did you tell it right before naptime?"
i'm sorry, emma, some things must be told. that is what life is about. a story that important must be heard, no matter what time it is. now off to sleep, you little shits.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
monkeybutt:
i had a dream that the apartment building across the street had cracked in half and was sagging into the ground. there were cranes lifting it up. the air felt and smelled like san francisco. then, i'm walking to a large festival. there is a place where someone named denise is. always there has been a black widow living here, but a tarantula hawk has taken its place.
johnclement:
Brook Jacoby played third base for the Indians. Garfield 1 2323 was the jingle for a storm window company, I think. Used to hear that commercial all the time in the mid-80s
