Obsession Police
By Chad Eschman
There was Gary at the office. He taped a new picture of his daughter up on the walls of his cubicle every day until his entire corner was a patchwork of green-eyed six-year-olds lost in a custody battle. That last week before he disappeared, all he did was sit in his $1200 ergonomically-engineered chair and slowly spin in circles. Then there was that barista at the coffee shop, the one who made you your cup of coffee every morning before work. You noticed she was chewing the nicotine gum. The morning they took her away she was on the floor behind the counter, trying to re-light a used cigarette that someone had left in an empty coffee cup. They even came for Jasper, your neighbor’s dog. He kept breaking out of the yard to chase motorcycles.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 09/09 at 09:41 PM
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Ashley
By Chad Eschman
Ashley drinks Riesling, gracefully
sprawled in a sterile memory bank full
of what she forgot.
When sunlight awakens her, she yawns and stretches
like a monk, a perfectly disciplined anomaly.
Outside, an azure blast of morning screams
at her, but lightly she dances, thinking
of him: his clumsy shotgun, his spiny voice,
his plastic machines which, languidly,
he teaches to speak. Elephant is her
favorite, it can pirouette over bundles
of grief and buttery orchid gardens,
a clean, white, mechanical miracle.
He sits, drinks juniper, and laughs
at the transparent emotion,
at my slow, sad, piercing
caress which she avoids under pretense
of fatigue. She wants fuzzy nights, sharp
sunlight through windows,
and him.
Posted by The Better Blog on 07/05 at 03:31 PM
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The Bedroom Door
By Chad Eschman
Gina was beautiful. She was commanding, both in the bedroom and in her career in corporate marketing. She never took no for an answer, and she made the best damn Manhattan on the whole planet. She also enjoyed getting high and playing croquet on the lawn. I don’t think we ever played it right, though. Basically, we just set the wickets out and started knocking the balls until one of us fell over.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/21 at 10:25 AM
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Followspot
By Chad Eschman
From: sweetysparkle23@zilkmail.com
Subject: I love my FollowSpot™ Bot!
Date: 2008 February 13 9:37:54 PM PST
To: agomson@digifeed.com
dear mr. gomson,
wow. i’ve had my followspot bot for 2 weeks now (my parents got me one for my 14th, i was so pumped!) and i just want to say i totally luv it! :) everyone at school is way jealous, except my bestie, matsie, cuz she has 1 too cuz her dad ran over her cat elvis and she was super sad so he bought her one, but hers is ufo silver, and mine is the new purple crush, so yah.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/11 at 01:11 AM
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Ernie and the Oil
By Chad Eschman
Ernie. Ernie Finklebat. Er. Nie. Fink. Le. Bat. Even his name makes me want to induce a vomit. He was JoJo’s friend, and from the first moment I met this tool I hated him. His brown leather jacket. His indie-emo-sweep hair. His prickly, dirty, pathetic attempt at a beard. But JoJo liked him. “He’s got good points, you know, he has moments.” Moments? I don’t drive a car that works at “moments.” I don’t drink beer that gets me drunk at “moments.” I don’t use soap that cleans me at “moments.” And I don’t like pricks like Ernie Finklebat. Besides. I never saw any moments.
Now, guests are always welcome in my home. I have an open door on both my porch and my fridge, I’m accommodating, I like company. But you don’t park in my driveway. You don’t. Ever. Not JoJo, not Ellie, not Tomson, not Gus, not Patsky, and certainly not Ernie.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/07 at 12:07 AM
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