The Shirtless Mechanic

I received a text message from Bill the Spooky Guy (formerly known as Bill the Google Master.) He asked if I could give him and his crew a hand pushing a car into the paint booth.

I showed up and it was the same old banter. Sergio was there. He was shirtless like usual. He still thinks he’s in the tropical heat of Cuba. Bill has to ask him to put his shirt on when a customer comes in.

Bill was trying to get things done. He was telling Sergio what to do. Sergio doesn’t take orders very well and he’s a back-sasser.

             “Boy you’re grumpy today,” Sergio said to Bill, “let me give you a hug.” He turned to me and said, “it changes his mood.”

             Sergio proceeded to put a bear hug on Bill

             “Get away from me! I’m tired of your abuse!” Bill said.

             “Oh, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed, come here.”

             Sergio tried to wrap his arms around Bill, which Bill resisted vehemently. Sergio is a big strong guy, so it looks kind of funny when he chases Bill around to give him a hug.

             We pushed the car into the booth and then George the music producer drove up. 

NSA, The Nefarious Spy Agency

Hello Anthony, this is your government. After reading your last email, we wanted to say that we hope your aunt Mary makes a full recovery after her surgery. Huntington Memorial is a fine hospital and Doctor Lee is a outstanding surgeon. According to our records he only has one malpractice suit pending at this time and it’s an ongoing suit from 2011. He says he didn’t do it, but his conversations with his wife seem to suggest something different.

            We’ve noticed that the frequency of emails from your lady friend have decreased in recent weeks. Don’t worry; according to our algorithms this is a natural occurrence, but you might want to buy her flowers just in case. 

            We'd like to let you know there are other women looking at your facebook account, but they seem to lose interest after looking at your pictures, as it stands they click on 2.27 pictures before they move on. We suggest that you make improvements in this area.

            Well, Anthony, just one more thing before we go, can you please refrain from calling the NSA the Nefarious Spy Agency? It’s a matter of national security that we make this request, and more to the point, it hurts our feelings. 

Harry Nilsson

Saturday night, nine-seventeen p.m, I began watching a documentary about Harry Nilsson, a man I never knew. Sure, I’ve heard his songs, but I didn’t know the details of his life. And after watching the documentary I still don’t know who he really was. I know he liked to have a good time, and that he was stubborn, and a baby maker. I know he had famous friends, and had trouble performing live for people. It was an entertaining documentary. I enjoyed it. It always surprises me when a man can sing in key. Parts of Harry’s life were very sad. Yet, it seemed that Harry had an army of angels surrounding him, for he could do no wrong, although he did wrong much of the time.

Eleven–nineteen p.m. I checked my phone for messages. I had one. It was from Bill the Google Master. It read, “You ever heard of Harry Nilsson?”

                 I’m thinking of changing Bill the Google Master's name to Spooky the Spooky Guy.  

The Comb Over

            I came across a picture of my mother and my sister and me. I took the time to look at the photo in detail. My mother and sister look great, but I look funny. There was something wrong with my hair. I had a bad haircut. My bangs were bluntly chopped and in general it looked like my barber had failed. My wolf teeth smile might have had something to do with it, but I was focused on my hair. 

            I got to thinking who are these barbers anyways, and where do they learn to cut hair? In the military? I put an awful amount of trust in my barber and I know nothing about him. It’s no wonder I feel uncomfortable when I walk into his shop.  I don’t take photos often, but when I do, I usually have a bad haircut. It’s strange that way. It doesn't feel like I have a bad haircut when I have a bad haircut. It could be coincidence, but I doubt it. Anyway, I’m letting my hair grow long, F-it.

The Raft

I paid Bill the Google Master a visit. He and Sergio were at it again. It seems they can’t have a conversation without yelling at each other. Sergio speaks loudly to begin with. He has no finesse whatsoever. He can make your ears bleed from a distance.

Bill enjoys teasing Sergio. I'm a witness to the abuse. Sometimes, I’ll chime in and tease him as well. It's kind of fun.
Sergio is from Cuba, so we make jokes about “the raft.” He’s a good sport about it, sometimes he’ll even laugh himself.
                Bill and Sergio have a homophobic banter between them. Sergio likes to hug Bill and Bill resists his affection vigorously.

“Have you ever been with a man?” Bill asked.

“No never!” Sergio answered.

“Not even on the raft?” I chimed in.

“No, not even on the raft!” Sergio yelled-spoke.

The two disappeared into the shop. I was sitting underneath a canopy where customers wait for their cars. A short time later I saw Bill backing out of the shop.

             “How many times have I told you, don’t grab my ass! 
            

The Death Corn

           I was taking a walk when I came upon a dead squirrel laying flat on his back in the middle of the road. It had been hit by a car. The squirrel's legs were sticking straight up in the air. "You got me," could have been his last words. It was an ordinary road kill but for the giant acorn that was still lodged in the squirrel's mouth. The little guy found the perfect nut just before he perished. He could barely wrap his mouth around it it was so big. He'd hit the jackpot and was probably in a rush to share his discovery before he was run down. It was the agony and the ecstasy that's for sure. It's a nutty world I tell you, just plain nutty. 

Phil, Amongst the Coyotes

        Ray Manzerak is dead. I sent a text to Bill the Google Master that said, "rest in peace Ray." He sent me a text back, "we'll all be hunched over our instruments one day." That's happening to me now, I thought.
           I'm going into the studio tomorrow to record vocals for a song I've been working on for months. I don't have John Lennon's bank account so I can't book time the way I'd like to. Soon I'll be mixing the song. I've been listening to All Things Must Pass, to study what the masters did with their mixes. George Harrison and Phil Spector. It's a shame about Phillip. He's a good argument for gun control.
            I live in a neighborhood with a lot of coyotes and today I wondered if the coyotes think of dogs who are on walks as prisoners. I imagined the coyotes standing on a hill and muttering to themselves there goes another prisoner when they see a dog on a leash.
            They get an hour of yard time, one would say to the other. It's hard labor.
            I'm glad I'm not a prisoner, the other coyote would mumble under his breath.
            Hey wait a minute. On second thought, that dog looks well fed. He looks downright chubby to me. He's not skipping any meals that's for sure. His coat looks full and healthy. What do I have to do to become a prisoner? What laws do I have to break? How can I run afoul?
            I know how you can get a death sentence. Eat a Terrier.