Mr Mascellani's Musings

Original

He holds her up as she spews beer and pizza
onto his brand new rug.
Her vomit flows out like a thick,
chunky vegetable porridge.
He gently rubs her back
but really he wants to slam her head against a wall.

Outside, his dogs bark
and children set mailboxes on fire.

Spewing Girl's boyfriend is dead drunk
asleep on the lounge.
She, SG, is not a pretty girl.
She stops spewing and apologizes,
staggers out the front door,
and collapses on the front lawn
where the stars look down at her knickers.

Back inside, when her boyfriend awakes
he begins to pontificate postulations on Plato.

Rewrite 1

I hold her up
as she spews tequila and pizza
onto my brand new rug.

Outside:

Stars shine,
dogs bark,
owls hoot,
kids set mailboxes on fire,
and a cat as fat as a hippopotamus
eats a teeny, weeny, scrawny mouse.

Eek! Eek! Eek!

She finishes her vile liquid laughter,
apologizes, then staggers out the front door,
and collapses on the lawn
where, the stars,
the dogs,
the owls,
the kids,
the fat cat,
and I
look at her knickers.

She seemed so nice
online, in the chatroom.

Rewrite 2. New Title: Blind Date

I hold Lucy up
as she spews beer and pizza
onto my brand new rug.

Outside:
Stars shine,
dogs bark,
owls hoot,
kids set mailboxes on fire,
and a cat as fat as a hippopotamus
eats a teeny, weeny, scrawny mouse.

Eek! Eek! Eek!

She finishes her vile liquid laughter,
apologizes, then staggers out the front door,
and collapses on the lawn
where, the stars,
the dogs,
the owls,
the kids,
the fat cat,
and I
look at her knickers.

She seemed so nice on the phone.

Original

Prologue: Steven is born in a hospital at a beachside suburb.
“What does that mean?”
“ I’m sorry to say that it means
that Steven will have a shortened life span.”
“Shortened? How shortened?”
“ He probably won’t live past twenty one.”

Joe, Steven’s father, sits down and weeps.
The doctor puts his hand on Joe’s right shoulder.

“ Wh wh what causes it?”
“ Nobody knows.”
“ Is there a cure?”
“ Unfortunately, no.”
“ How’s my wife.”
“ She’s resting.”
“ Has she been told?”
“ No.”
“ I’ll tell her.”


I: A life gone, remembered, and celebrated.

Time passed.
Three days shy of his twenty-first birthday
Joe and Kate buried their son.
There were hundreds of people at the funeral:
Steven’s extended family,
his friends,
his girlfriend.
When he was sixteen,
Steven kissed another boy-
just to see what it was like,
he preferred girls.
He died with a Bachelor of Science degree,
three surfing trophies,
a tattoo of a tiger on his arm,
minus his appendix and tonsils.
He died with a driver’s license,
Angelina Jolie’s autograph,
(Which he got – plus a kiss on the lips! - when he was in Hollywood.)
He died with a scar on his leg
that he got that one of many times
he had played football with his brothers, Brian and Peter.
And two false front teeth because of his bad-tempered sister, Gracie
(a true story that had become more and more embellished as
it become ingrained into the children’s lore:
“ And then Gracie grabbed the hammer and WHACK!”)
Steven died with hundreds of poems- saved to his hard drive-that were really journal entries.
He loved art, music, movies, and writing
But he wasn’t creative in those ways.
He was more scientifically minded,
hence the degree.
He enjoyed puns and corny old jokes.
(and practical ones too!)


II: The Ocean Speaks

The funeral ended.
There was no wake.
Joe and Kate went home with their family.
That night, none of them could sleep
And they were all somehow more fully aware of the sounds of the nearby ocean.

Revision 1:

Today, Kate and I buried our son, Steven,
three days shy of his twenty-first birthday.

“What does that mean, Doctor?”
“ I’m sorry to say that it means
that Steven will have a shortened life span.”
“Shortened? How shortened?”
“ He probably won’t live past twenty one.”
I wept,
and doctor put his hand on my right shoulder.
“ Wh wh what causes it?”
“ Nobody knows.”
“ Is there a cure?”
“ Unfortunately, no.”
“ How’s my wife.”
“ She’s resting.”
“ Has she been told?”
“ No.”
“ I’ll tell her.”

There were hundreds of people at the funeral:
extended family,
friends,
and Steven’s girlfriend.

We were close, Steve and I.
He even told me that
When he was sixteen,
Steven kissed another boy-
just to see what it was like,
he preferred girls.

He died minus his appendix and tonsils,
a scar on his leg,
three surfing trophies,
a tattoo of a tiger on his arm,
a driver’s license,
Angelina Jolie’s autograph,
(Which he got – plus a kiss on the lips! - when he was in Hollywood.)
and a Bachelor of Science degree.

He loved art, music, movies, and writing
but he wasn’t creative in those ways.
He was more scientifically minded,
hence the degree.
He enjoyed puns and corny old jokes.
(and practical ones too!)

Tonight,
I am somehow more fully aware of the sounds of the nearby beach,
and, Steven, my son, I know that it will never again be beautiful.

Revision 2:

I.
Steven was born in a hospital at a beachside suburb.

“What does that mean?”
“ I’m sorry to say, that it means
Steven will have a shortened life.”
“Shortened? How shortened?”
“ He may not live past twenty one.”

Joe sits down and weeps.
The doctor puts his hand on Joe’s right shoulder.

“ Wh wh what causes it?”
“ Nobody knows.”
“ Is there a cure?”
“ Unfortunately, no.”
“ How’s my wife.”
“ She’s resting.”
“ Has she been told?”
“ No.”
“ I’ll tell her.”

II.
A life gone, remembered, and celebrated.

Three days shy of his twenty-first birthday
Joe and Kate buried their son.
There were hundreds of people at the funeral:
Steven’s extended family,
his friends,
and his girlfriend.

When he was sixteen,
Steven kissed another boy-
just to see what it was like;
he preferred girls.

He died with a Bachelor of Science degree,
three surfing trophies,
and a tattoo of a tiger on his arm,
minus his appendix and tonsils.
a driver’s license,
Angelina Jolie’s autograph,
(Which he got – plus a kiss on the lips! - when he was in Hollywood.)
a scar on his leg
(Which he got playing football with his brothers: Brian and Peter.)
And two false front teeth because of his bad-tempered sister, Gracie.

III.
The Ocean Speaks

The funeral ended.
There was no wake.
Joe, Kate, and family went home.
That night, none of them could sleep,
And they were all, somehow, more aware of the sounds of ocean.