Entries, Featured, Wingnuts: Contest Entries
I was thinking to myself….
May
this could be heaven or this could be another Wing Nuts entry!
(apparently God’s favorite drink is the screwdriver)
Literati!
KYLE Katz takes us on a tour of the Infernal Writ–oops!–ETERNAL Writer’s Club with her favorite wingman, Mike Stang. Somebody care to buy the lady a drink?
Dead and living in New York
By KYLE Katz
What a way to die. “Woman falls from platform shoes into an oncoming bus…in New York traffic!”
It’s like a freaking maze in this city. I guess I just have to wing it!
My instructions from Deepak Chopra…find meaning with-in yourself. Only the right door can get you in the ‘Eternal Writers Club.’
I’m dead. And now discover the tunnel of light I’m suppose to ride my utopian Trojan horse of words through… is in a bar?
Bars covered with notable writers of literature– mostly old white men– with problems. Drinking, drug and sex addictions, tormented souls. Where’s the diversity? Where’s Toni Morrison, Victor Villesenor, or Amy Tan?
New York’s nightclub, ‘Spoonerism and Puns sign,’ flashed on and off.
This is it!
I burst through the door. On center stage, Leonard Cohen’s rusty plea sang Halleluiahs.
My literary wingman Stang, said I wouldn’t recognize him in the afterlife, so he’d be wearing short pants and a long red jacket, sitting at the bar waiting for me.
Unknown authors, lost poets, misfits and… Stang. There he is!
“Hey babe, been expecting you.”
A shot glass of New York’s finest brandy, clung to my lips. I scanned the room– a writer’s almanac of divine insanity.
Maya Angelou approached me. Yes, Me!
“Welcome to ‘Eternal Writers Club.’
Stang’s defeated eyes sank. “Eternal- as in never ending. You can start a book…but you can’t finish. Have another shot, my dear. Sip slowly.”
“So this is Hell!” Crap!
Kyle,
What an imagination you have and the wit with which to “sweeten it”. I think this contest has more variety than any one I can remember.
Blessings, pd
and you who read this reply be on the lookout for another entry from Peggy to be posted tomorrow. Remember, everybody gets a second chance to wing it!
I’m reading this post and I’m coming back.
YAY!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgPePk3kGZk
click on it…….
He’s got your back, probably…
Thanks Peggy. Sometimes I derail the train, but with this one, i had so much fun, i just enjoyed the ride. Thorn, this concept was perfect, as I was thinking of the Monty Python crew when I went into the bar. Great minds Thorn.
You know what Marcel Marceau would say!
Nothing, but great mimes drink alike
Shutuuup!
Let’s kill the little sonofabitch, Stang. That’ll get him quiet – or NOT!
So when are we going to have that Bloody Mary?
I hope that Kyle did not lose her sole
You Know Thorn, I’m a sole survivor, but try to never go sole lo anymore. I will always need a wingman, preferably one that is a nut.
Oh Gawd
OMGAWD. Many of you may not know this, but in the writers community of Oceanside an “Oh Gawd” followed by silence, from Billy Holder is like two thumbs up from Siskel and Ebert.
Yep
I am thinking of the room that Sartre wrote about now… was it Sartre? Anyway, WELL DONE!
Yes. In 1944 existentialist Jean-Paul Satre wrote a series of plays, .No Exit consisted of 3 plays A depiction of the afterlife about 3 characters locked in a room for Eternity. “Hell is other People.” he quotes.
I think Stang and I can write our way out of this one!…Oo Another story continuation!
Meanwhile, back at the saloon………..
Darla just changed everyone’s name and accidently shot you in the head. Now you have to read my series of chick western to see if COLT survives.
Of all the muses in the universe, she had to walk in on mine.
Thanks, I have never been a wing man before. The red jacket may become the new me instead of my paint spattered jeans and shit-kickin boots. Well, no matter. Off we go into the afterlife. An amusing and gateful flash sprinkled with classic Katz. Heres looking at you kid.
Play it one more time Stang…for old time sake. Yes I thought of you as Bogart or Tracy!
You do know how to whistle?
I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I’m kinda chubbin’ up just listening in on this conversation………… Maybe it’s just me.
Back in Georgia we called it chubbin’ catching fish in the ocean by a trail of overboard fish guts.
That’s chummin’, Stang. Chubbin’ a catfish would be just, well – wrong! 🙂
I stand corrected but I won’t take it laying down.
sounds like you two belong to the same chub club
No Bandukis allowed in the chub club. My word NOW!
No Chubbin or Chummin before memorial day. What you do with it after that is your business.
Got to say the characters in the front graphic remind me of people at the awwyp. Looking at them I just fell into it. Like looking for Thorn but not at all, who do you see in the six?
So, No takers?
All right, I see (from the left) there is Diana Diehl ready to take on the troops with that flashy smile and those sparkling glasses. Next, Gary Clark is wondering why he is fighting in the wrong war. Diane Cresswell is screwed musing on the mystical meaning of six. Then there is Derek, coming home after world domination (nice word huh Sully, ‘domination’). Mac Egan makes a cameo becoming part of the machine, and of course, last but not least, Billy Holder is looking good after his sex change.
Quite the crew
This is good Mike. Really good.
Thanks Kyle, I did not mean to Horne (sorry Jack) in on your parade. The graphic was too good to ignore. But I see that everyone is being patient with me, hoping I will just go away. Like I said in a conversation we had recently, any reaction, even if it is an invitation to the hanging tree, is better than none. And now that I am blubbering, I say again how much I enjoyed your flash.
You had me at “Woman falls from platform shoes into an oncoming bus…in New York traffic.”; although my Manhattan days remember the buses coming after cars and people with their nasty black rubber bumpers on the sides. Ah, yes, those were the days when I still had a…nevermind what I use to have come to think about it. Since I don’t want to talk about interior decorating, let me say that I survived the crazed buses, vampire like endocrinologist and Colombian surgeon from Queens, because at the time I wasn’t a writer and never would have been allowed through the non-pearly gates of “Spoonersims and Puns”. Now that I am a Sylvia Plath devotee, I expect to meet you there in the near future. I’ll be the lady checking for gas leaks in the joint. In otherwords, I thought your entry deserves a toast of, “Well done.”
Parisanne, Its rare treat to meet a fan of Sylvia Plath. I read her book about 5 years ago. I loved the way they preserved her notes in the book. It was so personal and revealing with each line she scratched out, and re-edted. Now I will go through my library of books to retrieve her once again. I did fall off platform shoes when I lived in Toronto, walking across the street to catch a bus. But i have visited New York often and love the city. Looking forward to more of your essence on the site.
You and Stang quite the pair…and I find it so enjoyable to be taken on your ride of words. This was so much fun to read sweetie – the twists and turns of where your thoughts run and the images that are conjured with those thoughts…tells me you do have a plan on where to take everyone down your crazy path of imagination. LOVE THIS!!!!
Oh you caught that! What is the word for intentional insanity? Thanks Diane for reading this and your valued feedback.
Wait . . . Does this mean I an already in hell?? Absolutely nothing is finished. Nice bit of prediction.
Quick. Burn the to do list!
This was great fun : ) Thanks for your comment, Jack