War on the world

December 4, 2011

When I was a kid I used to laugh my self silly. Over W.C. Fields, Chaplin, The Three Stooges. When something like toilet paper got on their foot. And they couldn’t get rid of it. And in there attempts to rid themselves of the toilet paper disaster followed. I thought these things never really happened. They were just funny. And then I became middle-aged. And they did happen. I remember once in a washroom. I put my foot in a garbage can to push down the level of waste paper. And my foot got stuck.

That’s where this story comes from. A certain world of slap stick. Which seems to afflict certain people. If they are good natured, it becomes part of their charm. If they are not good natured, they become the Chancellor of Germany and declare war on the world.




I don’t know if it’s important what his name is. It seemed important to his parents. They named Ford after the American car companies. Began to decline. To boost morale. On the line. Ford was born in Detroit. The asshole of America. Or so Ford’s father thought. When he was laid off. It was the days of Nixon. And television investigations. Liddy and Hunt and Dean and Mitchell dominated the headlines. And then Ford was born. Delivered off an assembly line of statistics. Right handed. Caucasian. Receding hairline. No one paid much attention. Except the insurance company. They’d prefer that they didn’t know. His name was Ford Harvey. They never bothered to give him a middle name. No time. Ford had always taken second place.

There was a kid named Kuris. He’d been born in Nova Scotia. His father worked in the mines. Coal. Kuris was a Slovak. And he liked his soft drinks. He liked them so much that he drank too quickly. Spilt his soft drink on the floor. Hours before. But no one had noticed.

Ford walked through the drug store’s sliding doors and began his carefree adventure down the ramp. When Ford slipped on the soft drink. Kuris’s soft drink. Ford’s feet were thrown toward the ceiling. The rest of his body obediently followed suit. And he landed on his back. Ford looked up at the ceiling of the drug store. This isn’t right. And then the pain hit. Like knives in his back. Oh mother, that doesn’t feel good. And then he passed out.

And for several moments Ford Harvey lay there. As good as dead. Until Paul McGregor was told a story by a customer about the adventures of a man who entered the drug store and slipped on the floor and landed on his back and for all intents and purpose seemed dead.

Paul rushed over to the sprawled victim and slipped on the same patch of soft drink spilt by a kid named Kuris and landed on his back. And Paul looked up at the ceiling. This is unusual. And waited a moment before passing out. Ford opened his eyes. Glanced over. At Paul. And began to cry.

One Response to “War on the world”

  1. Interesting and surreal 🙂

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