What Happened To The Winner"

The Man In The Shop Peered Disapprovingly At Evie Through The Glass. She Pumped Her Arms And Legs Up And Down In Imitation Of A Marching Band, Gave The Man A Salute, And Continued Her Meandering Walk To The Museum.

With Each Shimmy, The Bugle Beads On Their Scandalously Revealing Costumes Swung And Shook. It Was The Sort Of Display Evie Knew Her Mother Would Have Found Appalling—an Example Of The Moral Decay Of The Young Generation. It Was Sexual And Dangerous And Thrilling, And Evie Wanted More Of It.

As A Kid, I Imagined Lots Of Different Scenarios For My Life. I Would Be An Astronaut. Maybe A Cartoonist. A Famous Explorer Or Rock Star. Never Once Did I See Myself Standing Under The Window Of A House Belonging To Some Druggie Named Carbine, Waiting For His Yard Gnome To Steal His Stash So I Could Get A Cab Back To A Cheap Motel Where My Friend, A Neurotic, Death-obsessed Dwarf, Was Waiting For Me So We Could Get On The Road To An Undefined Place And A Mysterious Dr. X, Who Would Cure Me Of Mad Cow Disease And Stop A Band Of Dark Energy From Destroying The Universe.

She Is The Elephant’s Eyebrows,” Evie Whispered Appreciatively. “those Jewels! How Her Neck Must Ache.” “that’s Why Bayer Makes Aspirin,” Mabel Whispered Back, And Evie Smiled, Knowing That Even A Socialist Wasn’t Immune To The Dazzle Of A Movie Star.

In The End, I Take My Shoes Off And Stick My Feet In, Letting The Lukewarm Water Lick At My Ankles. It Feels Good, And Not Just Because I’m Stoned. I Make A Mental Note To Add This To Dulcie’s List Of Things Worth Living For. For Some Reason, I Keep Seeing Her Rolling Her Eyes At Me, That Big, Goofy Grin Stretching Her Face Like Silly Putty. On My Private List, I Add Her Smile. She Doesn’t Have To Know.