And he liked having sex with women, too.
This adventure found Aaron back in the time machine, turning the dial to ancient Egypt. He had to see for himself, just what was Cleopatra’s allure over men like Julius Caesar, Marc Antony, and George Bernard Shaw? Maybe he’d even get his chance at the Egyptian queen. He’d certainly enjoyed Messalina, that one time he went to visit Caesar Claudius just to make sure Derek Jacobi got the stutter right.
After the fog cleared, he found himself sitting in the baths of a temple near the Great Pyramids. Funny, he hadn’t checked his history books. Had they existed in Cleopatra’s time? He didn’t really know and he didn’t really care.
A muscular servant wearing a toga (so it's not a sweater, but Aaron has to mention that somewhere) who looked like Tony Curtis walked by carrying a vase spilling over water.
“Hark,” he said to Aaron, “who goes there?”
“It is I,” Aaron replied. “Aaron of the Aardvarks.”
“Bend over and let’s find out.”
“Sorry, I’m focusing on Cleopatra right now.”
“Her majesty is busy with Marc Antony at the moment. And she’s in Rome, not Alexandria.”
“Drats!” Aaron spat. He’d have to take the time machine across the Mediterranean to ancient Rome. Not that it presented a problem – he’d love to have an Asti Spumanti with a walnut chicken salad for lunch. But as long as he was here, perhaps he should make sport with this Tony Curtis look-alike?
He bent over.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The Oscars
“What is this on television, a football game?” Aaron asked Joe Watts.
“Nope, buddy,” he said. “It’s a golfing tournament.”
Aaron looked at Aunt Wilhelmina, who rolled her eyes. “Even more exciting.” His aunt burst out laughing. Score one for me, he thought – Aunt Wilhelmina couldn’t stand Joe and often wondered (aloud, to Aaron) why in the hell her stupid sister had ever married him.
Joe snorted between beer gulps. “Hey, cut out the sarcasm, Aaron Aardvark.”
Aaron made a squirrely face at his uncle – his aunt’s husband, he thought with a mental fuck you to ‘im. He’d get back at Joe Watts one day.
And then he pictured it – tying him up in a sling and making him watch the 1954 Academy Awards. You know, the one where that Philadelphia pig stole the Oscar from Judy Garland. And before the Oscars, they’d watch a Bette Davis movie – yes, “The Letter.” Actually, “The Old Maid” would do a better job of making Joe gag. Oh, and after the Oscars, they’d watch “Auntie Mame.”
Now that would be going into gay overdrive. And Aaron wasn’t even gay. He just liked having sex with men.
“Nope, buddy,” he said. “It’s a golfing tournament.”
Aaron looked at Aunt Wilhelmina, who rolled her eyes. “Even more exciting.” His aunt burst out laughing. Score one for me, he thought – Aunt Wilhelmina couldn’t stand Joe and often wondered (aloud, to Aaron) why in the hell her stupid sister had ever married him.
Joe snorted between beer gulps. “Hey, cut out the sarcasm, Aaron Aardvark.”
Aaron made a squirrely face at his uncle – his aunt’s husband, he thought with a mental fuck you to ‘im. He’d get back at Joe Watts one day.
And then he pictured it – tying him up in a sling and making him watch the 1954 Academy Awards. You know, the one where that Philadelphia pig stole the Oscar from Judy Garland. And before the Oscars, they’d watch a Bette Davis movie – yes, “The Letter.” Actually, “The Old Maid” would do a better job of making Joe gag. Oh, and after the Oscars, they’d watch “Auntie Mame.”
Now that would be going into gay overdrive. And Aaron wasn’t even gay. He just liked having sex with men.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Open door
Aaron dodged the bullet that flew by. Al-mar Kedebbar had a dead aim, but he hadn’t counted on Aaron’s precision timing. But Aaron knew pluck would get him only so far and that luck would always run out. So where’d he stash the time machine in this furnace?
He darted into the narrow alleyway and ran down the flume. It opened up into the marketplace and he ran into a women’s scarf stand. He heard all these cackling voices in French – you’d think he’d landed in a Parisian sewing circle rather than Algiers.
And so what if he’d accidentally boinked Mrs. Kedebbar? Did that give Al-mar the right to shoot him, even if he was the village’s lead elder? He ran through the market and to the other side – and yes, there it was, the room where he’d stashed the machine.
He ran in the entrance, but tripped over a vase and landed, head first, in a pile of manure. The time machine stood in the corner behind a bamboo fence and Aaron ran for it – but before he reached it, he felt the arrow coming from behind him, he knew Al-mar had found him, he prayed the end would come quickly –
And he woke up in his bedroom in Aunt Wilhelmina’s Presidio estate, in a lathery sweat. His fever had broken.
He darted into the narrow alleyway and ran down the flume. It opened up into the marketplace and he ran into a women’s scarf stand. He heard all these cackling voices in French – you’d think he’d landed in a Parisian sewing circle rather than Algiers.
And so what if he’d accidentally boinked Mrs. Kedebbar? Did that give Al-mar the right to shoot him, even if he was the village’s lead elder? He ran through the market and to the other side – and yes, there it was, the room where he’d stashed the machine.
He ran in the entrance, but tripped over a vase and landed, head first, in a pile of manure. The time machine stood in the corner behind a bamboo fence and Aaron ran for it – but before he reached it, he felt the arrow coming from behind him, he knew Al-mar had found him, he prayed the end would come quickly –
And he woke up in his bedroom in Aunt Wilhelmina’s Presidio estate, in a lathery sweat. His fever had broken.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
What they're saying
Aaron sat down in the time machine and breathed hard for the hardest challenge of them all. He said a quick prayer and crossed himself like an obedient little Catholic boy. Except that he didn’t believe in God and he certainly didn’t believe in the bishop of Rome. But he figured now was as good a time as any to buy some insurance on the gamble he was about to take.
He didn’t care. He had to see. So he turned the machine on and it huffed and puffed like it usually did. Like a ’58 Edsel, Aaron supposed (memo to self: travel back to the Eisenhower era and find out if it really was like Wally and the Beaver). But it started up after thirty seconds and then he turned the dial to the right. All the way to the right. And he applied pressure. The usual fog spurted out the sides of the machine and enveloped him in the usual mist.
But then the machine started to sputter and jump up and down and careen side to side, as if a Tyrannosaurus Rex held it in the palm of its hand before crushing it to a million pieces in its jaws. And Aaron held on for life and for death – thank goodness he’d put on his seatbelt this time – the California Highway Patrol would’ve got him, if he hadn’t. And then boom! The machine came to a hard stop.
The smoke cleared and Aaron saw flying bubbles with two-dimensional looking people in them wearing primary colors. And the houses all stood up on stilts and had sharp angles like they always showed on ‘60s TV.
“Good God, they were right and there they are, Elroy and Astro,” Aaron said. “Hanna-Barbera got it right.”
He didn’t care. He had to see. So he turned the machine on and it huffed and puffed like it usually did. Like a ’58 Edsel, Aaron supposed (memo to self: travel back to the Eisenhower era and find out if it really was like Wally and the Beaver). But it started up after thirty seconds and then he turned the dial to the right. All the way to the right. And he applied pressure. The usual fog spurted out the sides of the machine and enveloped him in the usual mist.
But then the machine started to sputter and jump up and down and careen side to side, as if a Tyrannosaurus Rex held it in the palm of its hand before crushing it to a million pieces in its jaws. And Aaron held on for life and for death – thank goodness he’d put on his seatbelt this time – the California Highway Patrol would’ve got him, if he hadn’t. And then boom! The machine came to a hard stop.
The smoke cleared and Aaron saw flying bubbles with two-dimensional looking people in them wearing primary colors. And the houses all stood up on stilts and had sharp angles like they always showed on ‘60s TV.
“Good God, they were right and there they are, Elroy and Astro,” Aaron said. “Hanna-Barbera got it right.”
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Meat
Okay, so who shall it be tonight? The Fukimoto’s running of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s with Sean, or dinner at L’Auberge with Daphne? Aaron checked his peter meter and yes, tonight it was pointing toward Daphne.
L’Auberge it would be. So he fired up Aunt Wilhelmina’s Eldorado (she wouldn’t let him take the Bentley, oh that witch) and headed to Nob Hill. Daphne tweaked his heartstrings with her black strapless and her bow-tie up-do. She was lovely in that Connecticut way of hers. And dinner at L’Auberge – beef bourgignon with haricot verts, and for dessert –
“You traitor!” came the assault from the other side of the room. Sean stormed over to them, hands on both hips like a washing machine spin cycle. “You gave up Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard for … for this …”
Daphne gave a round O, as if to say, “Is this man for real?” but Sean continued.
“… for this … why, she’s a lovely reincarnation of Audrey! Where ever did you get that dress? And your up-do … did Felano do that this morning? It has his signature all over it!”
Meat-wise, Aaron was tending toward the hens this evening rather than the roosters.
L’Auberge it would be. So he fired up Aunt Wilhelmina’s Eldorado (she wouldn’t let him take the Bentley, oh that witch) and headed to Nob Hill. Daphne tweaked his heartstrings with her black strapless and her bow-tie up-do. She was lovely in that Connecticut way of hers. And dinner at L’Auberge – beef bourgignon with haricot verts, and for dessert –
“You traitor!” came the assault from the other side of the room. Sean stormed over to them, hands on both hips like a washing machine spin cycle. “You gave up Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard for … for this …”
Daphne gave a round O, as if to say, “Is this man for real?” but Sean continued.
“… for this … why, she’s a lovely reincarnation of Audrey! Where ever did you get that dress? And your up-do … did Felano do that this morning? It has his signature all over it!”
Meat-wise, Aaron was tending toward the hens this evening rather than the roosters.
Friday, February 24, 2012
New information
“Aaron Ardvark, you get your sorry ass down here at once.”
His Algebra II teacher, the Humpty Dumpty-looking Mr. Horton, had finally found it. The caricature showing him tottering on the edge of a purple wall.
“I didn’t do it, Mr. Horton. I promise!”
“If that’s so, who else in our Algebra II class is capable of such artwork?”
Aaron looked around. Susie Smith could barely sign her name. “Perhaps Susie did it.”
Susie stuck out her tongue and narrowed her mean little eyes. “In your dreams, butthead.”
“Nice try, Master Aardvark. I shall write up a note for your aunt and send you to detention for three days. Now get back to your seat at once.”
Mr. Horton returned to the lesson of the day. “Class, can someone tell me the definition of a perfect square?”
He couldn’t resist it. He absolutely had to answer the question. There was no way, during the 1.5 seconds of silence that enveloped the shy room, Aaron wasn’t going to answer the question. It would mean an extra week of detention. But it would be worth it.
“Mr. Horton is a perfect square.”
His Algebra II teacher, the Humpty Dumpty-looking Mr. Horton, had finally found it. The caricature showing him tottering on the edge of a purple wall.
“I didn’t do it, Mr. Horton. I promise!”
“If that’s so, who else in our Algebra II class is capable of such artwork?”
Aaron looked around. Susie Smith could barely sign her name. “Perhaps Susie did it.”
Susie stuck out her tongue and narrowed her mean little eyes. “In your dreams, butthead.”
“Nice try, Master Aardvark. I shall write up a note for your aunt and send you to detention for three days. Now get back to your seat at once.”
Mr. Horton returned to the lesson of the day. “Class, can someone tell me the definition of a perfect square?”
He couldn’t resist it. He absolutely had to answer the question. There was no way, during the 1.5 seconds of silence that enveloped the shy room, Aaron wasn’t going to answer the question. It would mean an extra week of detention. But it would be worth it.
“Mr. Horton is a perfect square.”
Thursday, February 23, 2012
At the funeral
“The good Lord’s tryin’ to tell you somethin’,” the preacher baritoned to the cowed parishioners. Aaron rolled his eyes. More fire and brimstone, he supposed.
“You live your life like Sister Mona, you’re goin’ to suffer for it. The lesson of Sodom and Gomorroh …”
He droned on but Aaron couldn’t listen any longer. He just wanted to report back to Ethel what Mona’s funeral had been like. Besides the hell-breathing preacher, it was rather pretty here in Mobile, this spring day back in ’40. And Ethel’s family … well, they treated him real nice when he told them he came as one of Mona’s friends from the city. They didn’t care if he was the only whitefolk at the funeral.
But Aaron didn’t know what to tell Ethel when he got back to Aunt Wilhelmina’s. From the looks of it, Mona led a pretty colorful existence. How would he tell Ethel about the row upon row of weeping male lovers at the funeral?
“You live your life like Sister Mona, you’re goin’ to suffer for it. The lesson of Sodom and Gomorroh …”
He droned on but Aaron couldn’t listen any longer. He just wanted to report back to Ethel what Mona’s funeral had been like. Besides the hell-breathing preacher, it was rather pretty here in Mobile, this spring day back in ’40. And Ethel’s family … well, they treated him real nice when he told them he came as one of Mona’s friends from the city. They didn’t care if he was the only whitefolk at the funeral.
But Aaron didn’t know what to tell Ethel when he got back to Aunt Wilhelmina’s. From the looks of it, Mona led a pretty colorful existence. How would he tell Ethel about the row upon row of weeping male lovers at the funeral?
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
My siblings
Aaron had no idea where he landed that time. The machine had taken him to a murky, pungent grotto somewhere unknown. Passersby spoke old English (so old they would spell it “olde”) and wore heavy brocade robes with hoods.
The musty smell had him gagging and he wanted to be back at Aunt Wilhelmina’s Presidio estate with the comforts of his bubble bath.
“Hark, who goes there?” a bearded man with Bette Davis eyes demanded of him. What was this, a Shakespeare melodrama. Aaron changed his mind. The eyes looked more like Marty Feldman.
“It is I, Aaron Aardvark of San Francisco.” And then he corrected himself – “St. Francis of Assisi.”
“That village is unknown to me. I shall bring you to the king.”
Hours later he stood before the old king with the Methuselah beard. Did all men have beards here? He supposed Gillette hadn’t yet established its foothold in the razor business.
“My Lord, we have an intruder to interrogate.”
“Come forth, heathen, and explain yourself.”
“I am called Aaron Aardvark and I visit from another world, your majesty. I come in peace.” Aaron had absolutely no idea why he was there. He’d turned the dial on his time machine to the Renaissance. He’d wanted to see how Michelangelo chiseled that gorgeous David torso. That damned time machine, always goofing up.
“In that case, I give you to my daughters. Cordelia, Goneril, Regan, make merry with this aardvark from the Bible.”
The musty smell had him gagging and he wanted to be back at Aunt Wilhelmina’s Presidio estate with the comforts of his bubble bath.
“Hark, who goes there?” a bearded man with Bette Davis eyes demanded of him. What was this, a Shakespeare melodrama. Aaron changed his mind. The eyes looked more like Marty Feldman.
“It is I, Aaron Aardvark of San Francisco.” And then he corrected himself – “St. Francis of Assisi.”
“That village is unknown to me. I shall bring you to the king.”
Hours later he stood before the old king with the Methuselah beard. Did all men have beards here? He supposed Gillette hadn’t yet established its foothold in the razor business.
“My Lord, we have an intruder to interrogate.”
“Come forth, heathen, and explain yourself.”
“I am called Aaron Aardvark and I visit from another world, your majesty. I come in peace.” Aaron had absolutely no idea why he was there. He’d turned the dial on his time machine to the Renaissance. He’d wanted to see how Michelangelo chiseled that gorgeous David torso. That damned time machine, always goofing up.
“In that case, I give you to my daughters. Cordelia, Goneril, Regan, make merry with this aardvark from the Bible.”
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
The clues
Aaron turned the knob only slightly to the left. Back to ’94, direction Half Moon Bay. His heart pulsed in his ears and his hands shook. The familiar fog rose from beneath the machine and enveloped him in mist. Before he knew it, the air cleared.
He landed in the clear air of a June morning and saw it at once – the twisted guardrail, police vehicles and two E.M.T. vehicles flashing their lights, a KRON-TV crew nearby. Waves crashing against the rocks drowned out their sirens. Aaron leaned over and saw the Lexus lying on its side, crinkled up like used Reynold’s Wrap, smoke coming from the engine like a forgotten cigarette. Aaron remembered the car – summer weekends in Sonoma, drives down the coast to Big Sur on this very road, going across the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito, playing Categories (favorite: movies) and Twenty Questions (invariably: Winston Churchill) when they went to Mendocino for the day.
The E.M.T.s navigated two gurneys up the narrow path up the hill – one concealed by a white sheet, the other holding a woman stabilized by planks of steel and wood. Aaron let out a cry.
“Penelope and Austin Aardvark,” Aaron heard a policeman tell the reporter, “about thirty minutes ago. He’s dead, she’s critical. No evidence of foul play. Preliminary alcohol analysis, male occupant at 0.7, female at 0.3.”
Aaron turned his head, looking around for tire tracks. Skid marks, one hundred feet before the guardrail. The vehicle itself, broken windows, roof smashed in, sheet metal twisted and bent. Maybe his parents did die in an accident – but something told Aaron otherwise. Call it a hunch.
He landed in the clear air of a June morning and saw it at once – the twisted guardrail, police vehicles and two E.M.T. vehicles flashing their lights, a KRON-TV crew nearby. Waves crashing against the rocks drowned out their sirens. Aaron leaned over and saw the Lexus lying on its side, crinkled up like used Reynold’s Wrap, smoke coming from the engine like a forgotten cigarette. Aaron remembered the car – summer weekends in Sonoma, drives down the coast to Big Sur on this very road, going across the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito, playing Categories (favorite: movies) and Twenty Questions (invariably: Winston Churchill) when they went to Mendocino for the day.
The E.M.T.s navigated two gurneys up the narrow path up the hill – one concealed by a white sheet, the other holding a woman stabilized by planks of steel and wood. Aaron let out a cry.
“Penelope and Austin Aardvark,” Aaron heard a policeman tell the reporter, “about thirty minutes ago. He’s dead, she’s critical. No evidence of foul play. Preliminary alcohol analysis, male occupant at 0.7, female at 0.3.”
Aaron turned his head, looking around for tire tracks. Skid marks, one hundred feet before the guardrail. The vehicle itself, broken windows, roof smashed in, sheet metal twisted and bent. Maybe his parents did die in an accident – but something told Aaron otherwise. Call it a hunch.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Hollywood Steps
Jane walked down the floating steps after the phone rang. “I have to put on my face.”
True, Aaron observed, her hair was a wild mess and he could see the sandman’s imprint around her eyes. Jane stuck her face in the machine right next to the microwave. Ten seconds later, she emerged – beautiful and all made up.
Just in time to answer the videophone. It was Judy, calling from college. She still wore that blonde ponytail after all these years. “Hi, Mom!” Judy said. “Are you and Daddy coming for Homecoming weekend? I want you to meet Richard, my boyfriend.”
“Now Judy,” Jane said into the videophone, “you know how your father feels about those boys you date in college.”
“This one’s different. He’s from Venus. All the other ones were from Mars,” she said. “And his parents have a summer home on the Moon.”
Just then Elroy and Astro came into the kitchen. “Mom, Astro tripped Daddy and he fell.”
Aaron wished he hadn’t taken the time machine into a cartoon. They solved their problems way too fast – always in less than thirty minutes.
“Jane, that dog has got to go!” George said from the other room. He came limping in.
“Oh, George, are you all right?”
“Sorry, Rorge!”
True, Aaron observed, her hair was a wild mess and he could see the sandman’s imprint around her eyes. Jane stuck her face in the machine right next to the microwave. Ten seconds later, she emerged – beautiful and all made up.
Just in time to answer the videophone. It was Judy, calling from college. She still wore that blonde ponytail after all these years. “Hi, Mom!” Judy said. “Are you and Daddy coming for Homecoming weekend? I want you to meet Richard, my boyfriend.”
“Now Judy,” Jane said into the videophone, “you know how your father feels about those boys you date in college.”
“This one’s different. He’s from Venus. All the other ones were from Mars,” she said. “And his parents have a summer home on the Moon.”
Just then Elroy and Astro came into the kitchen. “Mom, Astro tripped Daddy and he fell.”
Aaron wished he hadn’t taken the time machine into a cartoon. They solved their problems way too fast – always in less than thirty minutes.
“Jane, that dog has got to go!” George said from the other room. He came limping in.
“Oh, George, are you all right?”
“Sorry, Rorge!”
Nirvana
Monday was Tony, Tuesday was Mary, Wednesday was Michael, Thursday was Cathy, Friday was Larry, and Saturday was Beth. Oh – and Sunday was his left hand. So why wasn’t Aaron happy when he woke up in his bedroom suite at Aunt Wilhelmina’s on Monday morning?
After all, he thought, brushing his teeth and looking at his gnarly form in the mirror, he’d satisfied every carnal appetite known to man. He’d had a different partner every night for a week, and every one of them was coming back this week for seconds. He could remember Larry’s baritone moans, Beth’s soprano squeals of delight, and cries of ecstasy from the rest of them. So why did he dread the coming week?
He saw the dark circles under his eyes and let out a little cry. He had a headache, too, from all vodka martinis and double shooters. Come to think of it, he’d gotten about four hours of sleep every night since his aunt left. Not very good – he was getting on in years, after all, and needed his sleep. After all, he’d be thirty in just seven years.
He took his shower and dressed for Tibet. He’d go meditate with Richard Gere and the Dalai Lama.
After all, he thought, brushing his teeth and looking at his gnarly form in the mirror, he’d satisfied every carnal appetite known to man. He’d had a different partner every night for a week, and every one of them was coming back this week for seconds. He could remember Larry’s baritone moans, Beth’s soprano squeals of delight, and cries of ecstasy from the rest of them. So why did he dread the coming week?
He saw the dark circles under his eyes and let out a little cry. He had a headache, too, from all vodka martinis and double shooters. Come to think of it, he’d gotten about four hours of sleep every night since his aunt left. Not very good – he was getting on in years, after all, and needed his sleep. After all, he’d be thirty in just seven years.
He took his shower and dressed for Tibet. He’d go meditate with Richard Gere and the Dalai Lama.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Describe the treasure
“Now don’t be nervous, Aaron,” Aunt Wilhelimina declared. “It’s only six weeks I’ll be in the cure at Speyer.”
Aaron wasn’t the least bit nervous. What more could he want, privacy at the Presidio estate, ten servants to do his bidding? He’d already decided he’d experiment with girls on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. And save the boys for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Sundays would be reserved for his left hand.
“Give your auntie a kiss and be done with it. My flight to Zurich leaves in two hours.”
He kissed his aunt and watched James drive her down the hill to Highway One. Aaron closed the door – and jumped up and down. Okay, first things first. Where were the jewels? Oh, yes – in Auntie’s safe in the drawing room. He’d model them in the mirror when he put on Uncle Emory’s tuxedo.
And then he’d take the Aston Martin for a drive over the Golden Gate Bridge up to Napa. When he was done with that, he’d run his favorite movies in the downstairs theatre. Along with his bisexual porn, of course – but on Sundays, only.
Aaron wasn’t the least bit nervous. What more could he want, privacy at the Presidio estate, ten servants to do his bidding? He’d already decided he’d experiment with girls on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. And save the boys for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Sundays would be reserved for his left hand.
“Give your auntie a kiss and be done with it. My flight to Zurich leaves in two hours.”
He kissed his aunt and watched James drive her down the hill to Highway One. Aaron closed the door – and jumped up and down. Okay, first things first. Where were the jewels? Oh, yes – in Auntie’s safe in the drawing room. He’d model them in the mirror when he put on Uncle Emory’s tuxedo.
And then he’d take the Aston Martin for a drive over the Golden Gate Bridge up to Napa. When he was done with that, he’d run his favorite movies in the downstairs theatre. Along with his bisexual porn, of course – but on Sundays, only.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Here is how you do it
Aaron tip-toed across the hallway beyond Aunt Wilhelmina’s snoring, downstairs past the servants’ quarters, through the kitchen, and to the other side of the garage. No one heard him, or if they had, they’d grunted and turned over.
He entered the password, started up the time machine, and turned the dial all the way to the right. Here goes. The biggest adventure of them all yet. No one had told him whether he could take the time machine there, nor did the user manual give any instructions. But Aaron wanted to try. He had too many questions that needed answering.
Did Scarlett ever get Rhett back? What happened to Mrs. Danvers after Manderley burned down? Did Boo help raise Scout and Jem after killing Bob Ewell? Did Elinor Dashwood and Edward Ferrars live happily ever after? Who became King of Denmark?
He had to get to the world of fiction. So he pushed the Dimensions 4 button of the machine and started to feel the usual blur. He pushed the dial as far to the right as it’d go. And the machine began to shake, then bounce, then jump up and down, then quiver, then shake again. The air pressure dropped and the heat rose – then it dropped below freezing. Aaron felt wind and hale and rain and sleet. And the machine jumped and sputtered and grinded to a crashing halt.
He landed in a dark world of cobwebs, cottage cheese, and electron firings. So this is what fiction was like. And then he began to hear random thoughts. Taxes too high. The debt ceiling. Bailouts bad. Balance the budget. No gay marriage. Bring back Bush.
“Damn!” he said aloud, not caring if the brain heard him. The machine had made another mistake. It had landed inside the mind of the average Republican voter.
He entered the password, started up the time machine, and turned the dial all the way to the right. Here goes. The biggest adventure of them all yet. No one had told him whether he could take the time machine there, nor did the user manual give any instructions. But Aaron wanted to try. He had too many questions that needed answering.
Did Scarlett ever get Rhett back? What happened to Mrs. Danvers after Manderley burned down? Did Boo help raise Scout and Jem after killing Bob Ewell? Did Elinor Dashwood and Edward Ferrars live happily ever after? Who became King of Denmark?
He had to get to the world of fiction. So he pushed the Dimensions 4 button of the machine and started to feel the usual blur. He pushed the dial as far to the right as it’d go. And the machine began to shake, then bounce, then jump up and down, then quiver, then shake again. The air pressure dropped and the heat rose – then it dropped below freezing. Aaron felt wind and hale and rain and sleet. And the machine jumped and sputtered and grinded to a crashing halt.
He landed in a dark world of cobwebs, cottage cheese, and electron firings. So this is what fiction was like. And then he began to hear random thoughts. Taxes too high. The debt ceiling. Bailouts bad. Balance the budget. No gay marriage. Bring back Bush.
“Damn!” he said aloud, not caring if the brain heard him. The machine had made another mistake. It had landed inside the mind of the average Republican voter.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Write about a coat
For the time being Aaron would have to suffer in the Antarctic cold. He’d taken the time machine only eighty years back to join Robert Byrd at the South Pole. Of course he’d forgotten to dress properly for the occasion.
It was not the custom to receive visitors at the South Pole, so when they came, Byrd and his staff rolled out the blue carpet. Byrd spoke first after a hearty handshake. “Come tour the facility with us, Mr. Aardvark.”
Byrd showed him the steel building constructed by the U.S. government. Narrow slits of windows, white tile floors, thick concrete walls. And inside the largest room, twelve bunk beds. And a sling that looked like it’d been constructed by a mammoth black widow spider.
“What’s that?” Aaron asked.
“Our staff needs to stay warm. Somehow. So this is how we entertain ourselves in the darkest months of the year.”
Aaron was going to like the South Pole.
It was not the custom to receive visitors at the South Pole, so when they came, Byrd and his staff rolled out the blue carpet. Byrd spoke first after a hearty handshake. “Come tour the facility with us, Mr. Aardvark.”
Byrd showed him the steel building constructed by the U.S. government. Narrow slits of windows, white tile floors, thick concrete walls. And inside the largest room, twelve bunk beds. And a sling that looked like it’d been constructed by a mammoth black widow spider.
“What’s that?” Aaron asked.
“Our staff needs to stay warm. Somehow. So this is how we entertain ourselves in the darkest months of the year.”
Aaron was going to like the South Pole.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Salt and pepper
Aaron had a late night appointment with Julius Caesar. The time machine waited for him in the small garage next to Aunt Wilhelmina’s Deusenberg, Rolls Royce, and Ford Taurus station wagon. He looked at the grandfather clock in the foyer, ticking away the minutes.
“Drink up your consommé, Aaron,” his aunt scolded him, “otherwise Jeeves will not serve the salad course. You don’t want to be here all night, after all.”
“Yes, Auntie.” Aaron hated these formal meals. Aunt Wilhelmina always insisted they dress properly for dinner. So what if they lived in the hills south of San Francisco and had a fabulous view of the cliffs and ocean beyond? She behaved as if they owned an English country estate. But he forced the liquid down without complaining. The quicker dinner ended, the sooner he could ramp up the time machine for his trek back to the Roman Empire.
Aaron had an idea – he’d take his copy of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” with him along for the ride. Perhaps the real Caesar would get a charge out of Shakespeare’s tragedy. Of course, he might be put off by the assassination part of it, but hopefully he’d get the whole thing about tragic flaws and all.
“Drink up your consommé, Aaron,” his aunt scolded him, “otherwise Jeeves will not serve the salad course. You don’t want to be here all night, after all.”
“Yes, Auntie.” Aaron hated these formal meals. Aunt Wilhelmina always insisted they dress properly for dinner. So what if they lived in the hills south of San Francisco and had a fabulous view of the cliffs and ocean beyond? She behaved as if they owned an English country estate. But he forced the liquid down without complaining. The quicker dinner ended, the sooner he could ramp up the time machine for his trek back to the Roman Empire.
Aaron had an idea – he’d take his copy of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” with him along for the ride. Perhaps the real Caesar would get a charge out of Shakespeare’s tragedy. Of course, he might be put off by the assassination part of it, but hopefully he’d get the whole thing about tragic flaws and all.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Valentine's Day
Aaron woke up on Valentine’s Day in Cherie’s bed. He had a splitting headache, dry mouth, and his head spun around, dizzy and wobbly. He got up and felt his stomach lurch to one side of his abdomen and then the other. Aaron ran to the toilet, preparing to vomit. Unfortunately, nothing came up. He’d have to live with the nasty poisons in his body for the rest of the day. Damn the alcohol.
He walked back into the bedroom. Cherie lay in the bed, sprawled out like a swastika and taking two-thirds of the mattress. Aaron didn’t want to climb back in bed with her. She probably had bad breath and wouldn’t be interested in cuddling. Not anymore, not after ten years and definitely not after Aaron’s affairs with leading historical figures from the past. Damn the time machine.
Aaron put on a pair of undershorts and went into the kitchen. He woke up angry, as he always did on those mornings after Cherie used him. Damn last night.
“Would you massage my sore back?” she said as they watched TV. Of course he’d done it. Like the idiot loser he was. But he knew the second he reached to kiss her, to fondle her, she’d retract away from him. All about her needs.
He went upstairs. Today was Valentine’s Day and he’d bought a card for her. He tore it up and threw it away. Damn the card.
He walked back into the bedroom. Cherie lay in the bed, sprawled out like a swastika and taking two-thirds of the mattress. Aaron didn’t want to climb back in bed with her. She probably had bad breath and wouldn’t be interested in cuddling. Not anymore, not after ten years and definitely not after Aaron’s affairs with leading historical figures from the past. Damn the time machine.
Aaron put on a pair of undershorts and went into the kitchen. He woke up angry, as he always did on those mornings after Cherie used him. Damn last night.
“Would you massage my sore back?” she said as they watched TV. Of course he’d done it. Like the idiot loser he was. But he knew the second he reached to kiss her, to fondle her, she’d retract away from him. All about her needs.
He went upstairs. Today was Valentine’s Day and he’d bought a card for her. He tore it up and threw it away. Damn the card.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Red ladder
Aaron brought his time machine to a screeching halt. He’d planned to visit Mohandes K. Gandhi before he became the Mahatma, because after all, he could never figure out the difference between “Mohandes” and “Mahatma.” But along the way he saw a construction zone – something starting in Barcelona.
When he emerged from the time machine, he shouted for joy. Yes, it was the Gaudi – La Sagrada Familia. Oh, how he wanted to be in on the ground floor of this one. Aaron loved his architecture, he loved his buildings, and this was the structure of all time. He looked for Gaudi himself at the site … but all he found were swarthy, sinewy Catalonians, sweating and smelling of manly scents. Aaron walked around the site.
Dust and dirt everywhere, but one spire had been built on the northwest corner of the site. A muscular Barcelonian worked near the top, standing on a platform. Aaron could see the contours of his physique, shadowed by the summer’s sun, and the glistening hair on his legs. The man wiped his brow and tore off his shirt and threw it toward the ground. It landed on Aaron’s face and he had the sudden scent of a Spanish construction worker …
This was definitely one of Aaron’s gay moments.
When he emerged from the time machine, he shouted for joy. Yes, it was the Gaudi – La Sagrada Familia. Oh, how he wanted to be in on the ground floor of this one. Aaron loved his architecture, he loved his buildings, and this was the structure of all time. He looked for Gaudi himself at the site … but all he found were swarthy, sinewy Catalonians, sweating and smelling of manly scents. Aaron walked around the site.
Dust and dirt everywhere, but one spire had been built on the northwest corner of the site. A muscular Barcelonian worked near the top, standing on a platform. Aaron could see the contours of his physique, shadowed by the summer’s sun, and the glistening hair on his legs. The man wiped his brow and tore off his shirt and threw it toward the ground. It landed on Aaron’s face and he had the sudden scent of a Spanish construction worker …
This was definitely one of Aaron’s gay moments.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Burning
“Child,” Aunt Wilhelmina told 12-year old Aaron at the church, “I have a very unhappy duty to perform. Your parents are dead.”
“But what happened?”
His aunt hesitated before answering, as if trying to find the right words. “They say your father swerved to avoid a dog and went off the clif of the Pacific Coast Highway, just north of Half Moon Bay. There was a fire …”
Aaron’s brain folded in two and closed in on itself. Inside that pressure cooker the thoughts careened from one side to the other and he retreated into the shell within his skull.
“Aaron, you will live with me now. Won’t that be nice? You’ll have servants and a pony, a governess and ten acres of land for running around.”
He wondered what a governess was.
“But what happened?”
His aunt hesitated before answering, as if trying to find the right words. “They say your father swerved to avoid a dog and went off the clif of the Pacific Coast Highway, just north of Half Moon Bay. There was a fire …”
Aaron’s brain folded in two and closed in on itself. Inside that pressure cooker the thoughts careened from one side to the other and he retreated into the shell within his skull.
“Aaron, you will live with me now. Won’t that be nice? You’ll have servants and a pony, a governess and ten acres of land for running around.”
He wondered what a governess was.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Unhealthy
Aaron tippy-toed over to the tapestry. He didn’t think anyone would notice him and, before entering the room, he’d changed into a dinner jacket and narrow, high-waisted gray slacks. He fit right in with the servants and young princes. They were all far too preoccupied with the prince consort. Albert lay in the bed, white as snow but his lips purple and his eyes, deep, sunken, dark circles under them. From his corner of the room he could hear the deep, clunky breathing. He tried speaking, but it fell to a whisper that only the mousy round woman in brown heard.
It surprised Aaron, how tiny Victoria was, no more than five feet tall. But she emanated a glossy sheen from her dour expression, an instinctive command that pervaded the room. Only her husband in the bed commanded her attention.
“Lie still, my sweet prince,” she said, patting his head with a wet cloth and clutching his hand. “Sleep will come to you.”
And then he uttered one sentence – “It was a great exhibition” – took in one final gasp of air, and became still.
Windsor’s doctor felt for Albert’s pulse. “Ma’am, the prince has slept away.”
Silence. Thirty people in the room. A queen was there, but silence reigned. Victoria took Albert’s hands and placed them on his breast. She reached up and closed his eyes. And then she stood, nodded to the oldest princess next to her. The two of them walked out of the room, their heads high, their expressions blank.
It surprised Aaron, how tiny Victoria was, no more than five feet tall. But she emanated a glossy sheen from her dour expression, an instinctive command that pervaded the room. Only her husband in the bed commanded her attention.
“Lie still, my sweet prince,” she said, patting his head with a wet cloth and clutching his hand. “Sleep will come to you.”
And then he uttered one sentence – “It was a great exhibition” – took in one final gasp of air, and became still.
Windsor’s doctor felt for Albert’s pulse. “Ma’am, the prince has slept away.”
Silence. Thirty people in the room. A queen was there, but silence reigned. Victoria took Albert’s hands and placed them on his breast. She reached up and closed his eyes. And then she stood, nodded to the oldest princess next to her. The two of them walked out of the room, their heads high, their expressions blank.
Friday, February 10, 2012
I watch the full moon pull itself from the blue water
The moment of truth, the point of no return, the die was cast. Aaron turned the machine’s dial all the way to the left and said a small prayer to God. All right, he had to admit he didn’t believe in God anymore. But he was raised Presbyterian by his dead mother and father, so it all came back to him – God, grape juice, and the double funeral.
The machine warped through time backward. Aaron saw Albert Einstein wisk on by – then Abraham Lincoln, then Eli Whitney and the cotton gin, then George Washington and Marie Antoinette, then Galileo holding a compass, then Eleanor of Aquitaine and William of Normandy, then baby Jesus and Mary, Julius Caear … and it became a blur of togas, rocks, and clubs. And then asteroids and flames started filling the sky, and the ocean waters began to rise and fall, then the moon fell into the water and rose again. And then black silence.
The time machine made a heavy grinding noise, began to shake, and stalled. The black silence gave way to a murky cave with a pale blue haze above him. Aaron climbed up through the cave to the opening above, and looked outside. Peace and green and blue everywhere.
But he saw his shadow, so he went back inside for six more weeks.
The machine warped through time backward. Aaron saw Albert Einstein wisk on by – then Abraham Lincoln, then Eli Whitney and the cotton gin, then George Washington and Marie Antoinette, then Galileo holding a compass, then Eleanor of Aquitaine and William of Normandy, then baby Jesus and Mary, Julius Caear … and it became a blur of togas, rocks, and clubs. And then asteroids and flames started filling the sky, and the ocean waters began to rise and fall, then the moon fell into the water and rose again. And then black silence.
The time machine made a heavy grinding noise, began to shake, and stalled. The black silence gave way to a murky cave with a pale blue haze above him. Aaron climbed up through the cave to the opening above, and looked outside. Peace and green and blue everywhere.
But he saw his shadow, so he went back inside for six more weeks.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
A jealous woman
“You take me first!” Aunt Wilhelmina demanded.
But Aaron demurred to Mrs. Prophylaxis. Those were the rules. Mother of the bride was escorted down the before mother of the groom, or in this case, aunt of the groom.
Marrying into the Prophylaxis contraception fortune was the smartest thing Cousin Yackety could possibly have done. He neutralized Aunt Wilhelmina’s power over him at the same time he gained a new wife and new fortune. Not to mention the guarantee that his wife wouldn’t get pregnant unless she really, really wanted to.
Aaron returned up the aisle for Aunt Wilhelmina. The Pringelhoeffer fortune was nothing compared to Prophylaxis one, but of course condoms and IUDs made a lot more money than plastic dog poop. Still, Aaron couldn’t complain, but every time he passed a dog park, he blushed.
Aunt Wilhelmina wore her deceased corpse expression. God, he hated it when she pouted in that aristocratic way. She hadn’t done anything in her life except write checks and order servants around, but the plastic dog poop heiress acted like Queen Victoria after being named Empress of India.
Aaron couldn’t wait for his next adventure, taking the time machine to visit Edmund Hillary at the peak of Mount Everest. He’d promised Cousin Yackety that he’d usher for him at the wedding, and usher he did. Now he had to bundle up for his journey back to ’53.
But Aaron demurred to Mrs. Prophylaxis. Those were the rules. Mother of the bride was escorted down the before mother of the groom, or in this case, aunt of the groom.
Marrying into the Prophylaxis contraception fortune was the smartest thing Cousin Yackety could possibly have done. He neutralized Aunt Wilhelmina’s power over him at the same time he gained a new wife and new fortune. Not to mention the guarantee that his wife wouldn’t get pregnant unless she really, really wanted to.
Aaron returned up the aisle for Aunt Wilhelmina. The Pringelhoeffer fortune was nothing compared to Prophylaxis one, but of course condoms and IUDs made a lot more money than plastic dog poop. Still, Aaron couldn’t complain, but every time he passed a dog park, he blushed.
Aunt Wilhelmina wore her deceased corpse expression. God, he hated it when she pouted in that aristocratic way. She hadn’t done anything in her life except write checks and order servants around, but the plastic dog poop heiress acted like Queen Victoria after being named Empress of India.
Aaron couldn’t wait for his next adventure, taking the time machine to visit Edmund Hillary at the peak of Mount Everest. He’d promised Cousin Yackety that he’d usher for him at the wedding, and usher he did. Now he had to bundle up for his journey back to ’53.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The group
Fearing for his butthole, Aaron tied his toga tight about him. You never knew when these Romans would ask you to reach down for the soap in the showers, especially at the baths. And the senators were the worst of them, making sport with his behind like it was a butter churn. Why hadn’t they yet discovered private bathrooms in the home?
Cassius and Brutus stood in conference around the Corinthian column with 8 other men – must be senators, Aaron presumed. “Give me that lean and hungry man,” Aaron remembered from his Shakespeare class. But Cassius didn’t look all that lean, not by Gold’s Gym 2012 standards. He looked like he consumed a bit too much in the carbs department. Love handles and soft shoulders made a mockery of his narrow, beady eyes.
But Brutus, now there was one serious piece of man meat. Aaron loved his Roman nose, just like that porn star he’d met at the Eagle in San Francisco ’86. And he had a really narrow waist and flat stomach. Yummy city. When he turned on the gay thing, Aaron could really go for Brutus.
He loosened his belt a little and walked in front of them. “Hark! Who goes there?” asked Brutus.
So Shakespeare was right! They really do talk in that ridiculous, formal way.
“It is I, Lord Aardvark of the Time Machine, come to provide service for the honorable Senator Brutus.”
And just as he was about to bend over for the soap (okay, a stupid metaphor, Aaron had to admit) – the time machine sputtered. Aaron landed in the hovel of Madame de Farge and her knitting needles.
“Damn, and for once I might’ve enjoyed myself.”
Cassius and Brutus stood in conference around the Corinthian column with 8 other men – must be senators, Aaron presumed. “Give me that lean and hungry man,” Aaron remembered from his Shakespeare class. But Cassius didn’t look all that lean, not by Gold’s Gym 2012 standards. He looked like he consumed a bit too much in the carbs department. Love handles and soft shoulders made a mockery of his narrow, beady eyes.
But Brutus, now there was one serious piece of man meat. Aaron loved his Roman nose, just like that porn star he’d met at the Eagle in San Francisco ’86. And he had a really narrow waist and flat stomach. Yummy city. When he turned on the gay thing, Aaron could really go for Brutus.
He loosened his belt a little and walked in front of them. “Hark! Who goes there?” asked Brutus.
So Shakespeare was right! They really do talk in that ridiculous, formal way.
“It is I, Lord Aardvark of the Time Machine, come to provide service for the honorable Senator Brutus.”
And just as he was about to bend over for the soap (okay, a stupid metaphor, Aaron had to admit) – the time machine sputtered. Aaron landed in the hovel of Madame de Farge and her knitting needles.
“Damn, and for once I might’ve enjoyed myself.”
Monday, February 6, 2012
Geometric shapes on black and white display
Aaron scurried around the corner of grates, bars, and steel walls. Mr. Zygote marched from cell to cell banging his police stick against all the grates. Aaron hid under the gray circles and black boxes. He heard Mr. Zygote coming and slid under the floor to the next panel. But when he popped his head out he saw Mr. Zygote’s black boots march on by, so he popped right back down and slithered over five sections to another cell, this one all grates. And he stayed put.
He thought Zygote would call out for him, threaten him, but no sound came from him. All Aaron saw were the gray circles, black boxes, white walls, and silver grates. And then Zygote marched into the room above Aaron. And stood there. Looking down on Aaron under the grate. And laughing, more laughing, tapping the steel rod against his arms. His powerful arms, ten times the size of Aaron’s scrawny freckled limbs.
Aaron woke up in his childhood bedroom. Why, it had the same blue and orange wallpaper as when he was eight years old. And the same little brown desk and red chair. He felt for his crotch – and no pubic hairs! He’d gone back to his childhood. Maybe Mommy and Daddy were alive after all and he wouldn’t have to live with Aunt Wilhelmina’s governesses and go to private school. But when he ran outside his bedroom, he fell away from the dream and into a black void.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
This week's challenge
Aaron couldn’t keep up. He’d promised Mary Boleyn he’d look after Henry Fitzroy. He’d made an obligation to Caesar Claudius that he’d keep watch on Caligula. Sir Isaac Newton was counting on him to stand under the tree and wait for an apple to fall on his head. And Eleanor of Aquitaine wanted Aaron to lead an invasion of Normandy.
Why did he get himself into these messes? All these famous people, whenever Aaron saw them, all he could do is promise them this, promise them that. But he was a human being, too. He had needs and wants. And how would they feel if, one day when he visited them in that clackety-clack of a time machine, he turned the tables on them?
“Queen Eleanor,” Aaron could hear himself saying. “I’ve decided to wear some of your jewels to the king’s pig roast. Would you be a dear and hang these from my nipples?”
“Sir Isaac,” Aaron would baritone, “I think we need to give that tree a little shake. Go climb up it and jump up and down on that branch. I’m in a hurry. I’ve got an appointment with Socrates.”
“Great Caesar with the stutter,” he said, knowing the old man had a sense of humor, “every time I get near Caligula he turns me around and makes sport with my behind. Would you be a dear and point your flabby little arse at the heathen and service him yourself?”
“Lady Mary,” Aaron said, a velvety tone of appreciation for her round breasts in his voice, “would you stroke me a hundred times just here? That’s right, on that spot.”
But no, he had to be a star fucker and go blubbery every time someone famous asked him a favor.
Why did he get himself into these messes? All these famous people, whenever Aaron saw them, all he could do is promise them this, promise them that. But he was a human being, too. He had needs and wants. And how would they feel if, one day when he visited them in that clackety-clack of a time machine, he turned the tables on them?
“Queen Eleanor,” Aaron could hear himself saying. “I’ve decided to wear some of your jewels to the king’s pig roast. Would you be a dear and hang these from my nipples?”
“Sir Isaac,” Aaron would baritone, “I think we need to give that tree a little shake. Go climb up it and jump up and down on that branch. I’m in a hurry. I’ve got an appointment with Socrates.”
“Great Caesar with the stutter,” he said, knowing the old man had a sense of humor, “every time I get near Caligula he turns me around and makes sport with my behind. Would you be a dear and point your flabby little arse at the heathen and service him yourself?”
“Lady Mary,” Aaron said, a velvety tone of appreciation for her round breasts in his voice, “would you stroke me a hundred times just here? That’s right, on that spot.”
But no, he had to be a star fucker and go blubbery every time someone famous asked him a favor.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
I was already on the second floor when I heard about the box
“But Auntie, I can’t come for the Easter parade,” Aaron said. “I have other plans that weekend.”
Aunt Wilhelmina sat across the bedroom at her vanity, admiring her new wig. Aaron thought it made her look like Ruth Buzzi playing the old lady on Laugh-in. She arranged silver brushes and mirrors on the vanity.
“And just what plans are those, Aaron Aloysius Aardvark, that are more important? I’ve sponsored the town parade twenty years now and this will be the first since your parents died you don’t attend.”
He couldn’t tell her about Johannesburg. Nelson Mandela’s presidential inauguration had taken place in 1994 and Aaron wanted to be there for it. It would be relatively little strain on the rickety time machine to go back eighteen years.
“My boss is sending me to New York on business that week,” he lied, trying to think fast. “I won’t be back until the middle of the week.”
“That’s a shame. I was planning on giving you something special for Easter. I won’t tell you what, just that it’s so important, it must be kept in a secure box.”
Ka-ching. Aaron had to think even faster. Which was more important, one of the most historic transfers of power in world history or Aunt Wilhelmina’s largesse? And then he decided.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Aunt Wilhelmina sat across the bedroom at her vanity, admiring her new wig. Aaron thought it made her look like Ruth Buzzi playing the old lady on Laugh-in. She arranged silver brushes and mirrors on the vanity.
“And just what plans are those, Aaron Aloysius Aardvark, that are more important? I’ve sponsored the town parade twenty years now and this will be the first since your parents died you don’t attend.”
He couldn’t tell her about Johannesburg. Nelson Mandela’s presidential inauguration had taken place in 1994 and Aaron wanted to be there for it. It would be relatively little strain on the rickety time machine to go back eighteen years.
“My boss is sending me to New York on business that week,” he lied, trying to think fast. “I won’t be back until the middle of the week.”
“That’s a shame. I was planning on giving you something special for Easter. I won’t tell you what, just that it’s so important, it must be kept in a secure box.”
Ka-ching. Aaron had to think even faster. Which was more important, one of the most historic transfers of power in world history or Aunt Wilhelmina’s largesse? And then he decided.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Friday, February 3, 2012
All around me
The dual lines of oaks framing the long street in front of Aaron’s car dizzied him, but he plunged forth. Someone had to pay for his lease on the time machine, and Aunt Wilhelmina was the only wealthy maiden aunt he had. The butler greeted him when he drove under the portico.
“Good afternoon, Master Aardvark. Miss Pringelhoeffer is expecting you in the library for afternoon tea and sausages.”
Jeeves had an especially sour expression on his normally dour face that Aaron didn’t like. “May I ask, Jeeves, what ever seems to be the trouble?”
“I’m afraid, Master Aardvark, there’s been some trouble in the house today. It seems the head footman has run off with the second maid. Miss Pringelhoeffer is beside herself with worry. Formal dinner must be served, after all, and there is the matter of polishing her shoes.”
“I understand, Jeeves. Thank you for warning me.”
Aaron entered the house. It was especially cold for July, he thought, but the stone columns and twenty-foot ceilings never did invite warmth. He dreaded visiting Aunt Wilhelmina under such circumstances. She placed special importance on the presence of servants at dinner and in her closet.
“Good afternoon, Master Aardvark. Miss Pringelhoeffer is expecting you in the library for afternoon tea and sausages.”
Jeeves had an especially sour expression on his normally dour face that Aaron didn’t like. “May I ask, Jeeves, what ever seems to be the trouble?”
“I’m afraid, Master Aardvark, there’s been some trouble in the house today. It seems the head footman has run off with the second maid. Miss Pringelhoeffer is beside herself with worry. Formal dinner must be served, after all, and there is the matter of polishing her shoes.”
“I understand, Jeeves. Thank you for warning me.”
Aaron entered the house. It was especially cold for July, he thought, but the stone columns and twenty-foot ceilings never did invite warmth. He dreaded visiting Aunt Wilhelmina under such circumstances. She placed special importance on the presence of servants at dinner and in her closet.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
It's not fair
Aaron stood in the back of the courtroom. White men with narrow, pursed lips in starched white shirts, blue ties, and blazers stood shouting on the right side of the aisle. A motley crew of women, men, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Latinos, gays, straights, the young, the infirm, and the elderly stood on the left side of the aisle, shouting – but not as bellicose. Or so thought Aaron. His mother the Republican congresswoman from Tennessee would disagree.
But Aaron could see it. The fork-up-the-butt men on the right side shouted louder, they booed, and they cawed. The tabulation panel in the front tried to count ballots and discuss among themselves, but they couldn’t. Five polyester people sat at the table, shifting cards, looking at hanging chads, bickering among themselves. But they kept going over the same cards.
“All right, I’ve had enough,” shouted an overweight former Santa Claus from the middle of the table. “All of you, be quiet or we’re going to terminate the counting.”
It lasted two minutes. Then a fork-up-the-butt flipped the bird to a black man on the left, he did the same, and before anyone knew it – birds were flipping all over the place. And all at once they started shouting at each other. “Gore Loser!” “Bushwhacker!”
The fat man stood up again. “This session is at an end. Counting the ballots in Miami-Dade County will cease immediately.” He got up and walked out of the room, followed by his four associated.
The fork-up-the-butt men smiled as they left the courtroom, quiet as the cat who swallowed the canary. The motley crew shouted “Injustice!” and went straight out to the reporters. Aaron followed them, but he got caught in his time machine and landed in the middle of the Irish Potato Famine. Unfair. Just when it was getting good.
But Aaron could see it. The fork-up-the-butt men on the right side shouted louder, they booed, and they cawed. The tabulation panel in the front tried to count ballots and discuss among themselves, but they couldn’t. Five polyester people sat at the table, shifting cards, looking at hanging chads, bickering among themselves. But they kept going over the same cards.
“All right, I’ve had enough,” shouted an overweight former Santa Claus from the middle of the table. “All of you, be quiet or we’re going to terminate the counting.”
It lasted two minutes. Then a fork-up-the-butt flipped the bird to a black man on the left, he did the same, and before anyone knew it – birds were flipping all over the place. And all at once they started shouting at each other. “Gore Loser!” “Bushwhacker!”
The fat man stood up again. “This session is at an end. Counting the ballots in Miami-Dade County will cease immediately.” He got up and walked out of the room, followed by his four associated.
The fork-up-the-butt men smiled as they left the courtroom, quiet as the cat who swallowed the canary. The motley crew shouted “Injustice!” and went straight out to the reporters. Aaron followed them, but he got caught in his time machine and landed in the middle of the Irish Potato Famine. Unfair. Just when it was getting good.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Zero
Aaron finally got a ruling on his Nativity petition and found the machine had transported him to Bethlehem. He emerged in a hovel in the forest, God only knew where, and walked to the nearest town.
“Who goes there,” a black-bearded man asked that evening when he walked by the market. “Halt and make yourself known.”
“It is I, Aaron Aardvark of California.”
“I’ve never seen hair that color, nor a face so white. Not even among the most northern of Romans. And your robe wears too closely to your legs.”
“I come in peace, kind man. Please forgive my odd appearance.”
The man reached for his knife, but paused. He squinted his eyes, looked at Aaron shivering in just dungarees and flannel. “Where is this California you speak of? Is it somewhere east of Persia?”
After a fashion, Aaron supposed. “Yes, it is quite east. I come to witness a very special birth. I seek Joseph and Mary of Galilee.”
The man grunted. “Never a more pitiful pair of nomads did I see enter the village. Off you go then, in that direction.” He pointed and went back to his hides and pelts.
Aaron turned down the alleyway the man indicated. Before too long, the small houses of the village came further apart, and then he came upon the stable. A star shone brightly above the structure and light came from within. Aaron entered the stable and just as he turned to witness the Savior’s birth, he saw a three-ringed circus with ponies, acrobats, clowns, and a strong man.
“Damn that time machine,” Aaron thought. “I knew I should’ve downloaded the latest upgrade when it prompted me.”
“Who goes there,” a black-bearded man asked that evening when he walked by the market. “Halt and make yourself known.”
“It is I, Aaron Aardvark of California.”
“I’ve never seen hair that color, nor a face so white. Not even among the most northern of Romans. And your robe wears too closely to your legs.”
“I come in peace, kind man. Please forgive my odd appearance.”
The man reached for his knife, but paused. He squinted his eyes, looked at Aaron shivering in just dungarees and flannel. “Where is this California you speak of? Is it somewhere east of Persia?”
After a fashion, Aaron supposed. “Yes, it is quite east. I come to witness a very special birth. I seek Joseph and Mary of Galilee.”
The man grunted. “Never a more pitiful pair of nomads did I see enter the village. Off you go then, in that direction.” He pointed and went back to his hides and pelts.
Aaron turned down the alleyway the man indicated. Before too long, the small houses of the village came further apart, and then he came upon the stable. A star shone brightly above the structure and light came from within. Aaron entered the stable and just as he turned to witness the Savior’s birth, he saw a three-ringed circus with ponies, acrobats, clowns, and a strong man.
“Damn that time machine,” Aaron thought. “I knew I should’ve downloaded the latest upgrade when it prompted me.”
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