But the words belonged to this writerout of Oak focking Park, Ill., known as Papa. You betcha, “One manalone ain’t got… no chance,” Ernie Hemingway wrote, the flatlander whoflatlined himself 49 years ago this month in Idaho from shooting himself to theever-living not-so make-believe death, coda to a lifetime of climbing theKilimanjaro, drinking, shooting the shit with hoity-toity types in Parisianswanky joints, dicking around with Spanish bulls, bagging Hollywood moviebimbos, drinking, and shooting guns at big animals that now tread the line ofbeing gone from our sights for focking ever, the kind of creatures nowadays weonly see in a circus, zoo, or on cable TVbut then-a-days, were animals thatballsy writers and native natives used to see as common as the dandelions asuburban landowner surveys and… I forgot my point, what the fock.
Oh yeah, how ’bout you file Big GameHunting in the “Hey, Seemed Like a Good Idea At the Focking Time” folder underHistory. It’s a mighty fat, focking folder, I tell you’s. Let’s see now, whatthe hell’s all in here… Virgin Sacrifice, check. Slavery, ’natch. WritingEverything in Focking Latin; Dumping’st Thou Full Chamber Pot Out Yonder WindowInto Thy Street Below; The Edsel; Establishing a Russian Front in Winter;Saddlin’ Up With George focking Armstrong Custer; Replacing Living, BreathingMusicians with DJs; The Reagan Presidency; Booking Round Trip on theTi-focking-tanicyes sir, all kinds of stuff in this folder, cripes.
But one thing you won’t find in thatfolder is War ’cause hell, war always seems to be a good idea to focksticks nomatter the time, a good idea every focking minute of every focking day, yearin, year… (hold on, somebody’s at the door).
Fock. Up above, in that“Good Idea At the Time” folder? Please insert Answer the Focking Door WhenYou’re Trying to Write a Goddamn Essay. (Herbie, Ray and focking Ernie arehere. Uno momento.)
Ernie:Artie, we got a couple Blatz’s left. Want one?
Ray:Ain’t seen you around much lately, Artie. You stashing some kind of babe orsomething?
Art: Youfocking knobs, I’m trying to get some work done here, you mind?
Ernie:You mean that little article you write once a week?
Herbie:Jesus H. Christ, Artie. You ever open a window? Smells like a goddamn tanneryin here.
Art:Hey, I’m busy. I get this essay done on time or I don’t get paid.
Ernie:They pay you? Flim-a focking-flam. How the hell you swing that?
Art:Some “flim-flam,” jerkwad. I’m old enough to be a grandpa and right now, I gotexactly 52 dollars and 14 cents to my focking name.
Ray:Fifty-two dollars and 15 cents,Artie. Just found a penny in your drawer here, underneath… a sock? A piece oftoast? What the hell is this.
Herbie:Keep your focking pants on, Artie. We won’t stay long. We were just over by therestaurant to get Little Jimmy to go then by the Uptowner, but he’s still got asink-full to finish.
Ray:Hey you’s guys, look at this. What the hell is this?
Herbie:If you’re so broke Artie, maybe Little Jimmy can get you a job over by him.
Art:I’m allergic to service-industry work.
Ernie:Yeah, but you don’t have to dick around with the asshole public customers. Youjust got to wash their dirty dishes.
Art:I’m allergic to water.
Herbie: Igot to get going. The wife’s nephews are staying over. The little one, what’shis name, all the time it’s Barney this, Barney thatdrive you focking nuts.
Ernie:Who the fock is Barney?
Herbie:The TV show for the kids. Cripes, you been on the focking moon the past 100years?
Ray:Smells like cheese. Old cheese. Guys, I dare you to smell this.
Herbie:But I’ll tell you’s, I wish that focking felt dinosaur would teach these kidssomething useful instead of words to pussy-ass songs on how to count to one.How ’bout teach these kids how to hit the focking toilet with Number One. Mylittle one, what’s his name, his aim’s so far off for christ sakes, I swear hemust’ve been in Mussolini’s army in some kind of past life.
Ray:Hey, this don’t taste half bad, whatever it is.
Ernie:Artie, why don’t you write something about that war in Afghanistan wecan’t win against a bunch of skinny knobs in turbans who hate women and don’teven have an air force.
Herbie:I’m just focking glad the two little nephews ain’t old enough to get mixed upin that focking insanity, yet. Guys, I got to go. “Barney’s” almost on.
Ray: Yeah,me too, see you in church Artie; if the windows aren’t too dirty.
• • •
OK Ray, church, you bet.Ray, who just took a bite out of a forgotten never-washed Ace bandage I used towrap ’round this bleeding boil on my thigh couple, three years ago.
So where the fock wasIWar? Good god, focking Barney ought to teach the kids a song by this Jewishguy out of Hibbing, Minn., especially the part that goes “Thatif God’s on our side, He’ll stop the next war.” Hell, if He was on ourside, the other side, all focking sides, you’d think at some point He’dsee what the fock was going on, step in and stop one of these shebangs foronce, ain’a?
Yeah, fat fockingchance. He can’t seethe focking windows are too dirty ’cause I’m ArtKumbalek and I told you so.
