Rickety Hostility. Embroider
WARNING: This reading material may be offensive; read with caution. Parental guidance suggested.
PURE UNBOUNDED JOY.
J.S. SF EARTHQUAKE PHOTO: LUKE
ucky's big green eyes and bright
red hair made him stand out from
the crowd. Sometimes Lucky did-
n't mind being noticed as long as
it wasn't every 2.5 seconds.
Lucky was always happy.
Happiness radiated off
him. Even if you saw him.
walking down the street from a block
away, he'd cheer you up. His walking pace
usually was moderate to fast and always
one arm would swing out away from his
body. It looked kinda like someone swing-
ing imaginary bowling balls while getting
from one place to the next. The time was
4:45; Lucky was about to go and talk to a
counselor to see if he could take night
classes to bring up his grade to make the
ditcher's club. The counselor's name was
Mr. Confetti. Mr. Confetti liked Lucky, in
a way that a counselor shouldn't like a
pupil. Very well, then. Lucky joined the
ditcher's club and stopped going to
school. School altogether made Lucky
think of Mr. Confetti. Once Lucky was
officially signed up with the ditcher's club,
he met someone that he liked and
admired. This new friend of Lucky's was
named Old Mr. Wise. Old Mr. Wise was
admired and looked up to by all the ditch-
ers. Immediately Old Wise took a liking to
Lucky. Old Mr. Wise asked Lucky why he
left school. Lucky felt bad explaining the
story or even repeating it, but he did, and
it made him mad. Old Mr. Wise told
Lucky, "People are different."
Lucky said, "Yeah, I know that."
Old Mr. Wise told Lucky that his counselor had a sick-
ness. It made Lucky laugh. Old Mr. Wise did not laugh.
His face was straight. Lucky stopped laughing right away
when he took notice of how serious Old Mr. Wise was.
"A lot of people argue that for the love of God these
types of people should restrain themselves."
Lucky shook his head yes. Old Mr. Wise sat there not
saying anything.
Lucky watched some cars go by and then said, "Well,
you'd at least think the school would know better than
to hire a counselor that would try and hit on students."
Old Mr. Wise said, "Yeah, you would think they would
know better."
After the two talked for a while, Old Wise persuaded
Lucky to go back to school. Lucky did and at every cost
avoided Mr. Confetti, but soon enough the fruitcake was
summoning him left and right. When Lucky got home
from school, all he'd think about was that gross old Mr.
Confetti. The only time Lucky didn't think about him was
when he agreed to help his younger brother Rebel on a
school project.
"Sure," Lucky told Rebel. "I'll help you with it.
What is it?"
Rebel explained to Lucky that he had just finished writ-
ing a report on the French Revolution and to make the
project more complete he wanted to build a mini guil-
lotine out of oak wood. Lucky's eyes opened wide. This
was the most exciting thing to happen to him in a while.
It took Lucky and Rebel two weeks to complete their lit-
tle guillotine. It was absolute perfection. I mean, not at
first; hardly anything is immediately perfect. At first the
little blade didn't come down hard enough or fast
enough. The two boys tested it on cucumbers and
bananas, but it never chopped all the way through.
"We need weight," Lucky said.
"Yeah," Rebel said, "but where are we gonna get weight?"
Like a flash it hit Lucky. "From car's tires. You
know, the small lead things they use to balance out
a car's alignment."
"Yeah," Rebel said. "We'll use those." And as soon as
the little guillotine had more weight that blade came
down fast. The two boys' faces broke into large smiles
every time they pulled the lever. Chop! A banana. Chop!
A cucumber. Chop! An old GI Joe. Chop chop chop!
Katami to te
Hono fumi wakeshi
Ato mo nashi
Kishi wa mukashi no
Niwa no ogiwara
Fujiwara no Yasasue
I LOVE AMERICA
That To The Side Of Your Hat.
Rebel took his little guillotine to school along
with his report. When he finished reading his
report before the class he asked permission to
share with the class his little invention that he and
his brother had made.
The teacher, not sure what to expect, said,
"OK, of course."
Rebel pulled the cloth which was covering the
mini guillotine off. Everyone in the class made
some kind of remark. Some laughed, some joked,
some were excited; "Hey, cool."
Rebel set the GI Joe in place. He switched the
lever and chop! He was sent to the office and sus-
pended for two weeks. When Lucky heard the
news he was angry like you wouldn't believe.
Plus Lucky's counselor, Mr. Confetti, was still fol-
lowing him around. So what happens next might
be graphic and a little fucked up. If you're perfect
and have a perfect family you might not want to
read any further.
Once the school returned Rebel's little guillo-
tine to their parents, Lucky got his hands on it. He
brought it to school and figured out way to get
the counselor to whip out his cock. Once Lucky
got the counselor to do that, he figured that he
would not have much trouble blindfolding him
and then slipping the cock into the mini guillotine.
Once the deed was done, Lucky laughed as Mr.
Confetti went screaming and jumped around with
blood dropping onto the floor. After the office per-
sonnel and others heard the noise and rushed in,
Lucky was standing on the top of Mr. Confetti's
desk screaming, "Serves the faggot right!"
"Get down from there!" Mrs. Tobacco said.
"No, no!" Lucky screamed. "I'm not getting
down from here. Not till you make me, you
fucking cunt!" Lucky kicked the mini guillo-
tine from the desktop. That and the coun-
selor's private part hit the floor. Rosemary,
the school nurse, came bursting in with a
bag of ice. She, while the others were
screaming to get Lucky down, was looking
for the severed penis.
A
Three Stories By Mark Gonzales
t last the band is here. The people standing on the
street stood upright happily. They had been there
waiting for several days. The early morning air
was fresh. The sunlight was bright. This was the Tournament
of Roses parade.
A young kid with sugar stuck to the perimeter of his mouth
yanks on his mother's dress. "When are we gonna see the
flowers, Mom?"
"Just a moment." Across the street a group of art stu-
dents have their easels set up to paint the parade. "Oh, look
over there," the mother said while lifting her young child
into her arms. "Look. Can you see them?" the mother
asked in a soft voice.
The kid brought one hand up over his eyes to protect
them from the bright sun rays. "Oh yeah, I think I see
them, Mama." The kid, so excited, began to jerk his body.
"I see them!"
His mother's face became disturbed. Her child was heavy
and making it very difficult to support him. But she con-
tinued to support him in her arms so that he would still be
able to witness the floats as they approached. On the other
side of the street the painters were sketching out the build-
ings and people along the parade route. Sally, who was
seated with easel and chair next to her best friend Samantha,
Sam for short, had not yet sketched a thing. She was too
busy observing the people around her. Sam, excited, looked
over to Sally while bobbing on her seat.
"Here they come, Sally," Sam said. "Here they come."
Sally, sad and uninspired, smiled sympathetically. All the
other artists seemed to be doing fine. Why could she not get
one single pencil line down on the
canvas? Why couldn't she? This is
what was going through Sally's mind.
Sam let out a hoot. Others clapped.
and screamed as the floats drew
near. Finally Sally's eyes settled on
something that filled her heart with
joy and charged her mind with inspi-
ration. She began to sketch on the
canvas as fast as she could. Posture
was the most important thing to
Sally the way the woman was
standing with her small boy in her
arms. If the posture was not right it
would blow the whole thing. So she
sketched radically fast.
the oracle of the man whose sight is clear,
the oracle of him who hears the words of God,
who with staring eyes sees in a trance
The oracle of Balaam son of Beor,
the vision from the Almighty.
MC
Escher
planned a
well-packed
lunch. He was on a journey to pic-
nic in a nice park alone, but when
he settled on a spot, up walked
Picasso with a large umbrella to
protect his skin from the sun..
Picasso sat beside M.C. Escher and
joined him. M.C. Escher didn't
mind. He shared his food. Now up
the path two other artists were
approaching. It was Narrow Margin
and Julian Schnabel, but they had
some chicken in a bucket. All four
men sat there eating and speaking
to one another. Eventually their
voices got loud and then they
began to fight among each other
about who would rule the conver-
sation. It seemed as though this
would never end, but then Phyllis
Diller emerged from the bushes
with a gallon of gasoline. She
doused the men and laughed loud
as she struck a match.
For Rick Jacobson Rest In Peace Brother
He owned the Riki gallery in SF and gave me my first one-man art show.
Go sda
WHEN ASKED WHY HE SHOT THE MAN, THE BOY
REPLIED, "I DIDN'T LIKE WHAT HE HAD TO SAY."