… a girl walks into a mess

(photo from lovincup.com)

Marebeth is writing her five-minutes of fame for this year’s “Senior Talent Show.” Yesterday, she bought a “humor dress” from the thrift store on Commerce Street, to show she’s serious. “It’s a hippy quilt” she said on the phone to Suzanne, her best friend since fifth grade detention after both girls were caught sharing a “hefty blunt,” as Officer Wilber described it, behind the portables.

The blunt, in fact, was actually a “porker” Marebeth had rolled from Bugler cigarette tobacco, using a technique her Uncle Feldy taught her when they fished together from a small, blue rowboat each summer on Hayber Pond, near Fairbanks. Uncle Feldy was a native-born Alaskan, though his mother was born in Russia and his father came north from Calfornia to pan for gold during the depression.

“Why’d they call you ‘Marebeth’?” Suzanne asked behind the portables, passing her the porker. “Is it because your Mom dreamed of one day having her own horse?”

“Not sure about the horse,” Marebeth answered. “They told me it was from ‘la mare,’ French for ‘the sea.’ Apparently in the car on the way to the hospital, my Mom’s water broke. And the way she told the story later, when they reached the hospital and opened the passenger’s door to let her out, a waterfall gushed out of the car and into the ER lobby.

“No way,” Suzanne said.

“I’m just repeating the story as it was told to me. It seems there were a number of steelhead trout that ended up near the nurses’ station, that gave the security guards quite a fight.”

“Uh-huh. So how’s the monologue going for talent show?”

“Okay. Want to hear what I have so far?”

“Why do you think I asked?”

“Dunno. I thought maybe you were just being polite, and … wait, forget it. For a minute I forgot who you were.”

“Funny. So what’s it called?”

“‘A Girl Walks Into a Mess.'”

“What’s the mess?”

“Current life.”

“Cool. How’s it start?”

“‘Marebeth is writing her five minutes of fame for this year’s Senior Talent Show,'” Marebeth reads from her laptop screen.

“It sounds like a story someone might post online.”

“Yeah. It’s a story monologue, intended to sound like a story someone might post online, that’s about a girl preparing for her five minutes of fame at this year’s talent show.”

“Am I in it?”

“Of course. Who else would I be talking to about it? Just some imaginary person in my head? That’s crazy.”


“Yes, Suzanne?”

“I think it’s time you ran for President.”

“Really? Would I have to get new underwear?”

“Huh-uh. The balloons and dancing bears would fit right in.”

“Cool. Can I use that in the monologue, as an offhand comment on the current can’t-add-ministration mess?”

“Of course. What are ghost ghost writers for?”

“I was hoping you’d see right through this,” Marebeth said. “I need to hang up, now, and go pee on something in the toilet.”

2017-03-12 23:34:42 (516 words)
▸ UMass Dynamics performing “Landslide” by Dixie Chicks, from “Giraffes Out of Bed” 2013
▸ Blind Pilot performing live 2016: a) “Joik #3”; b) “Don’t Doubt” from “And Then Like Lions” 2016; and c) “Half Moon” from “We Are the Tide” 2011

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