Jim Archives

July 10, 2007

Jim: Swampy Water-Colored Memories

It’s been said that music, for some people, can trigger long-forgotten memories. A song from their youth can bring to mind dramatic moments from an earlier time.

For me, it’s odors. Jasmine and sea-spray remind me of walking hand-in-hand along a shell-strewn shoreline with my first girlfriend. Cigar smoke and Chanel #5 bring forth thoughts of my deceased parents urging me to excel at school and in sports.

Urging and pushing. Insults and jeers. And the punishments for failure.

The stink of stagnant water also reminds me of my parents, when I drove their lifeless bodies down to the bayou.

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July 11, 2007

Jim: Passing Go

We’d had a working relationship back when Rizzy O was the lead singer for the Love Grenades but I hadn’t heard from him since he went solo. So imagine my surprise when he sauntered up to me in the hotel foyer. “Sheila, my love,” he greeted me.

“’Sup, Riz?”.

“Been meaning to look you up, darling.”

I blinked coyly. “I figured your groupies were handling things.”

“It’s just not the same as doing it with you,” he sighed. “How about it?”

It was my turn to sigh. “Fine,” I said. “As long as I don’t have to spot you Boardwalk.”

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July 12, 2007

Jim: All Roads Lead To The Gator

An hour from Lafayette sat a moldy plank building that called itself the Gator Saloon. Outside, a myriad of insects hummed mournfully in the sweltering, thick air.

A stereotype of crusty black leather and tattoos, Killer Maddigan bulled into the saloon, its interior dark after the midday sun, and settled onto a bar stool. “Tequila,” he told the girl tending the place.

The bar’s only other patron, a shriveled oldster, quietly slurred, “Sho, you come here off ten?”

Maddigan stared, downed his shot, and left without a word.

“Guess he came here off Highway 49, then,” the old man muttered.

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July 16, 2007

Jim: Them Thar Hills

As a prospector, Seamus Muldoon lacked any kind of patience; a temperament poorly suited to the chronic tremors that came on about the time his beard silvered.

Two or three times a year, Shaky Muldoon, as he was called, reluctantly left his claim and came to town for supplies. For most folks, this was a good a time as any to be someplace else.

One trip, Shaky bought a case of TNT with nitro blasting caps. He’d said he was tired of panning and this would ‘speed up the process’.

We found pieces of Shaky Muldoon all over Glory Gulch.

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July 23, 2007

Jim: Harry Potter and the Home Depot

Many things around Hogwarts give me the heebie-jeebies. There is absolutely no privacy; what with random ghosts and living souls captured in the artwork. But you get used to that.

The creepiest thing is how all the stairways tend to move around while you’re on them. As often as not, you may have thought that you were walking to the restroom but instead found yourself at the Den of Incomprehensible Doom or some equally ominous place.

I soon discovered, though, that ‘moving stair magic’ can’t stand up against a Stanley hammer and a few boxes of 15 gauge steel nails.

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July 25, 2007

Jim : Origins... or... Man, Oh Man, Why Did I Take The Blue Pill?

Barely hiding his amusement, Dr. Burles looked up from the chart. “You happy to see me, Mr. Montoya?”

Al Montoya twisted onto his side under the sheet. “Geez, Doc,” he sighed, blushing. “It don’t want to go away. What’d you give me?”

“The usual concoction for heart arrhythmia: aspirin, beta-blockers, sildenafil citrate, nitroglycerin…”

“No offense, but ICUs usually don’t give me wood. Between you and me, the nurses here ain’t all that pretty.”

Dr. Burles grinned sympathetically, jotted a note, and left the tiny room. Once again, he wondered if the folks at Pfizer knew about this particular side effect.

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July 27, 2007

Jim: Every Saturday Night In Tim's Basement

“Can’t my Elven eyes see in the dark?” Tim asked.

Not this dark.

“Then I light a torch.”

You don’t have a torch.

Sam grinned. “Hey, I have a torch.”

The Dwarf has a torch.

Tim rolled a die. “I light his torch with a fireball.”

“Wait a sec!” Sam yelled.

The torch was in the Dwarf’s backpack. You incinerated the Dwarf.

Sam scowled. “Way to go, Asshole.”

“Why was the torch in your pack, Buttwad?”

“I’ve got a two-handed axe, Dorkweed. D-uh!”

You hear claws scraping against stone. Something is being drawn by the tempting aroma of roast Dwarf.

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July 31, 2007

Jim: All Roads Lead To The Gator, Part Deux

Its plank walls showing more mold than paint, the Gator Saloon jutted like a rotten tooth between the bayou and a two-lane road paved with white and nacre crushed oyster shells.

Mrs. Thibodeaux stormed into the Gator, lugging a heavy suitcase. “Andre!” she yelled at her husband. “I’m leavin’!”

Andre turned on the barstool. “Ga lee, Beb,” he said in thick Cajun. “Whar you go?”

“Nyawlins,” she sneered. “Walkin’ if I gotta.”

“Whar for?”

“I heard you a ped-o-phile!”

Andre’s eyes widened. “Ooo-eee!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “That thar’s a big ol’ word coming from a thirteen year ol’.”

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August 2, 2007

Jim: It's All Greek To Me

It seemed innocent enough to the jocks on Frat Row,
Shouting insults at a few passing nerds.
And I’m sure the jocks expected some sort of reprisal
Involving large flaming bags full of turds.

But the boisterous jocks went back to their drinking
And promptly forgot the jeering event.
After all, they had two cold kegs of draft beer
In which they had hardly yet made a dent.

The explosion occurred early the very next morning
(Some say around eight and some say later).
Despite the time, all that’s now left of Frat Row
Is a mile wide, radioactive crater.

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August 3, 2007

Jim: Overheard At The Pentagon

10:08 am –1st floor, Water Cooler – “Did you see the game? Man, what an awesome catch in the end zone!”

11:42 am –1st floor, Men’s Room – “I heard there was an amazing end zone catch this weekend. “

1:08 pm –2nd floor, Copier – “Heard anything about the N Zone?

3:12 pm –3rd floor, Tactics – “They’re talking about the N Zone downstairs. I want a full briefing!”

4:07 pm –4th floor, Map Room – “The Neutrality Zone is on this border. Nothing shows on satellite, though.”

7:14 pm – 5th floor, Operations – “There’s no time to wait for better intel. Start cluster bombing!”

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