Issue/Publication: Epinions.com

Web Links

The Bottom Line This truly tragic and horrible Family Story was recorded, in the form of a monologue,  before a live audience at the Edinburgh Castle, 950 Geary Street, San Francisco, Ca, in May. It was well-received.

----------------- 

"My Plan to End Our Economic Crisis" 
by Macresarf1 

I just heard the sound of the radios. I'd been expectin' em for . . . at least an hour. 

What's a little guy like myself, life-long Republican, gonna do? The economy's still in the tank, no matter what them bastards on Wall Street sez. Before I lost my membership at the Country Club, guys I'd known for years -- I mean, solid Junior Chamber people, "Exhausted Roosters" like me, men who still owned their own businesses -- told us like it was. They did, Walter. Heinie Sisler, owns the lamp store at the Farmer's Mall, he gave us a talk on Poker Night, right after New Year's, "My Plan to End Our Economic Crisis": 

"The damn Liberals in Sacramento are STILL f*ckin' us," Heinie sez. "They wasted all the money, gave it all to the lousy Teachers' Union. And the Republicans in Washington ain't much better. Now they want to NAFTA everything," sez Heinie. "And force the businesses to Arizona and places like Iraq. For us," he sez, "the economy ain't comin' back, not for years!" 

Old Heinie pretty well summed it up. 

Goddamn raghead al-Quaeda! I'da castrated that bastard, SODdam. That's the only thing I hold against President Bush. He captures the Sh*t responsible for violatin' us, our precious Financial and Military centers --slaughtered three or four thousand real Americans -- n' he doesn't string him up by the balls. Wanted him to have . . . a Trial!  HE DOESN'T STRING HIM UP BY THE BALLS! 

------------------ 

I better calm down . . . I got a lot to do. 

I been sittin' all mornin' to one side of our picture window, where I can keep an eye on things. I been lookin' with my other eye at you, Walter . . . your old Nick Carter movies I used to watch with Daddy when he came to live with us. Just you, Walter Pidgeon, lookin' straight . . . LOOKIN' TALL, on AMC . . . n' me watchin' you, one eye, eatin' Rice Crispies. You notice, Walter, how there are always too many of 'em for the milk? All those little bubbles of . . . rice, like . . . like insect eggs, floatin' around and round. And then, they get all mushy, or there aren't enough of 'em again. Needs more milk. Like I imagine . . . the inside of a woman's c*nt. It's a mystery. It's really f*ckin' fascinatin,' Walter. 

If only Heather hadn't gone on . . . about . . . . 

James Elroy, good ol' boy like Daddy -- huh-huh . . . (you can't trust anybody). Elroy sez in a book he wrote, American Tabloid -- pretty good history of the JFK conspiracy -- he sez, the guy playing Nick Carter . . . that's you, Walter -- yeah, you -- LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU, GODDAMNIT! He sez, Walter Pidgeon -- is a QUEER, chased little boys. That just bites my *ss . . . all these damn straight lookin' guys my Daddy admired were perverts. Rock Hudson, hell, Burt Lancaster! They should ALL be shot. Crucified. But then, there was a documentary on Turner Movie Classics that said how you, Walter, had been such a great family man n' all. 

Whoops! I tried to wash up, but . . . I see I've made a mess of this chair. 

Heather wouldn't like that . . . 

Walter, Walter, Walter -- 

So, I don't know. You DON'T know. I was out at the Thresher Lounge a couple of weeks ago. Had a heat on, you understand? And there was this tall gal, Pattie . . . she was on her way to Reno. I had the last of my 401k money . . . and so . . . I was . . . throwin' my money at her. Bought her a couple drinks n' started stickin' my tongue in her ear . . . just foolin' around, you know? Then, Harker the bartender at the Thresher -- know'd him for years -- keeps givin' me the high sign, but I don't pay no mind 'cause . . . who would guess what he meant? 

Got a hard on, Walter. Been a long time . . . like that, I mean. (Wish I had one now, but . . . Old Hector just won't work these days . . . Maybe in half an hour or so, he will.) Anyway, I get her out to the car . . . Jesus Christ! I throwed up. 

Goddamn Transvestites, Cross-dressers . . . Trans -- sex-U-als -- I don't know what you call 'em! How's Frankie, Jr., gonna know what's what, if his Daddy don't? 

I gotta go easy on the Gin. There was a fresh quart early this morning . . . almost gone now. All gone . . .Al-l-l gone. 

Heather liked old Walter Pidgeon, too -- She did, Walter! I wish . . . I wish she were sitting here with me now. (AW, JESUS CHRIST!) I wouldn't have figured Heather would have know'd who you was. But she did. She'd even seen HOW GREEN . . . WITH MY VALLEY. HOW GREEN . . . WAS . . . MY VALLEY. My Daddy's favorite picture. How's that, Walter, for a fan in the younger generation? Heather's . . . Heather was . . . ten years younger than me. Ha-ha-ha. I could have introduced you two. 

I . . . Really . . . gotta go easy on the Gin. Smokin' -- drinkin' -- rememberin' onct, my daddy whipped me, ha-ha, WHUPPED me . . . not being really a man. There was a fresh quart early this morning, Walter. Did I tell you that? Almost gone. Almost all gone . . . all gone. 

Heather was a good wife, Walter. I met her at a picnic, near Elk Grove. She was an intern for Metropolitan Life, n' my wife n' I . . . at the time, hadn't been seein' eye to -- 

Ah, SH*T, there goes the phone again! 

The phone's been ringing for hours. I don't answer the bastards. If they had only given me a job when I pleaded with 'em. PLEADED with 'em! 

This is what you get when you have to work for SPICS. I guess I showed 'em . . . showed . . . all . . . of . . . you. But how come spics get these jobs? How'd the three of 'em manage college degrees? MBA's! And all I had was a sh*tty community college . . . two-year certificate. I wasn't qualified to sell the Big Policies, they said. 

What would you have done, Walter? 

Hell, my Daddy used to tell me how he stopped at every house in this town before the freeway came. Every door was open to him, when he was a young man. He'd collect five dollars here, ten dollars there -- whatever it was on the premium. Every week! Frank Rasmusson was well-liked in the town. My Daddy! Have a cup of coffee? Have a cup of tea . . . maybe something stronger . . . with the . . . missus of the house. 

'Course that all ended forty years ago. Term insurance f*cked us. 

"FRANKIE! I want you to STAY IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM! You HEAR ME? Your Mother and Sister are asleep in the other room. NO! Don't go in there. They're ALL . . . asleep. STAY IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM, like I said. Yeah, n' don't open your mouth . . . And KEEP THE DOOR closed!" 

Dumb kid. He'll f*ckin' exhaust you. He's a Rasmusson though, good Norwegian stock, but he thinks it's like the old serials or STAR WARS or somethin.' 

When they come, they'll be using . . . live ammunition. 

Sometimes, Walter, I mix you up with the guy in DOUBLE INDEM-MITY . . . NITY -- DOUBLE INDEM-NITY. I can never say that. I don't know why. I mean, why I mix you up . . . I can't remember the other guy's name. Doesn't matter, Walter, does it? He was a loser, not like you. 

So where was I? 

Yeah, I been telling you about "My Plan to End Our Economic Crisis." Old Heinie Sisler put me to thinking. Here it is, Walter: All you got . . . is All you Got. You have to own your assets, and you DOMINATE them . . . from . . . top to bottom. You move everything quietly to Reno, where they got no tax. And if they come after you -- 

Oh-oh . . . they're bellerin' some sh*t through a bullhorn. And Mike Swallow's son, Danny, is hidin' out by my truck, by that goddamn Pampas Grass. 

One last shot . . . of Gin, and I got to straighten up. 

I hated to put Marilyn down. She was one sweet kid. Doin' well in school. But then, in the middle of ALL THIS NONSENSE, she turns up with a n*gger boyfriend. The Jew had been bad enough. At least, he'd have taken care of her. He'd have had some gold buried in the backyard or . . . SOMETHIN.' 

But then! But then, Heather had kept on, and kept on, AND KEPT ON, about losing the house. And, what were we gonna do? 

I tried to TELL her what I was planning to do. You remember . . . my economic plan, I was tellin' you. But she just wouldn't get off the rag about my blowing my 401k money . . . . 

Marilyn came out of her bedroom when she heard the first shot. Maybe two minutes. Pow. Her eyes were wide . . . and she had that beautiful little curl hangin' over one eye. She went right down . . . like a house of cards. 

Just as well, Walter. How would we have explained a n*gger baby around the house? 

Frankie! -- that's my boy -- Frankie Rasmusson, Jr. He slept RIGHT THROUGH IT! 

-------------------- 

Okay, Walter, the Gin's gone. 

Chief Harper is gettin' ready to do somethin' I can tell. Played spit n' the ocean with 'im, 28 years -- 

On your feet, Arnie Rasmusson! That's the new plan, Walter. Don't let 'em have your house. Don't let 'em have your wife. Don't let 'em have your kids! They're your property, understand? They're guaranteed in the Constitution! 

Hhmm-m! These flames are sure pretty. I never liked those Japanese screens, Heather bought. 

Gonna go out like a Viking, with Son Frankie Junior watchin' me. Like Kirk Douglas in . . . I forgot. 

You remember the picture? 

Right now, I have to decide, if I point the gun at them . . . or at myself. Maybe put it in my mouth. What would you advise, Walt -- 

Wow. BOOM. Walter blew up. 

Frankie, FRANKIE! Come out here, my only son. We have a job to do!  You and I. 

------------------------- 

The End