8/27/13 - "Chapter 4 - The Pollock Joke"
Blogger's Note: I've been putting this one off.
Writing our "How We Met" story has kept my brain percolating with ideas, plot points, outlines, and strategies. Some of which I will share with you now.
As you may have already figured out, I have taken some liberties with the re-telling of this story. Now, I can only promise you, this story is as true as I can make it while still keeping it interesting enough to read. Everything really did happen as I have described, but I have used several of my modest writing talents to mold them into serial "episodes" that contain the following: a new character, something funny, and something to tug at your heart-strings. I wanted each chapter to be a story in itself; so, sometimes I re-arrange the events to keep the pulse rhythmic and healthy. And, sometimes I encounter problems along the way...
One of these problems is that the setting for much of this story is where I work. And I obviously have to be careful there. I've tried to tiptoe just to be safe, but I don't want to write anything that might shine any negative light on my place of employment or on any of its employees. I love my job, and I respect both my co-workers and the rules of social media. So, to circumvent this problem (and just to be safe), in some of the future chapters, I will take some artistic license and move the setting when I feel it appropriate to do so.
Another of these problems is the naming of the characters. Sometimes, I have kept their real names; sometimes, I have changed them. If I keep their name, that's because I feel like I can safely say that they are/were/will be a protagonist throughout the story. In fact, there's only one antagonist in this story, and you may have already figured out who that is (hell, every good story needs a villain, right?) Now, whether that is/was a real person is for you to decide (perhaps you can read between the lines...) And sometimes, I change the name simply because I don't feel total confidence that this person would feel that what I was writing would be material that I should be freely sharing. I try not to even use this type of "material"; but, when I find it very necessary for the story, I do so by changing that person's identity.
As I was mentally structuring the outline for our story, I put a shiny, yellow star beside certain plot points. Everything else is just connecting the dots to these points. I fill in the gaps to these major events by creatively introducing the characters and devices necessary to tell the bigger story. Today's chapter is the first of those special pinnacles. And I want to do it right. Nearly all of the characters are present here, even some of which you haven't met yet, but I can put off this chapter no longer. I will try to incorporate them as best I can while keeping true to the pattern. I hope you enjoy...
I could hear club music illuminating the lonely, winter parking lot. It seeped through walls and windows as it pulsed its way into the night's freedom. Cut by the screech of my closing, car door, it muffled my foot falls and promised to escort me to the party inside.
Through the gaps in the neon, beer signs I could see some people I recognized inside. Randy, still in his suit and tie, must have just gotten off work. He was sitting across the bar laughing at something or someone that was beyond my sight. He was another of our supervisors and fun to hang out with. Kristin and Crystal were sitting with their backs to me, toasting a shot, and sharing a joke. A couple of the foreign exchange students walked by in conversation and happily infused in the Americana.
When I opened the door, the music engulfed me.
"Duane!" Randy hollered from across the bar. At Ernies' people didn't yell things, they hollered.
I smiled as I made my way to the bar stool next to him. Along the way, I passed a group of the students gathered in a circle. Among them, Joanna and Stacey were apparently in some cosmic dialogue.
"Happy Birthday!" I shouted at Joanna as I passed.
"Hey!" She shouted back. "Come here! I buy you a shot!"
"I'll be right there," I smiled as I continued past.
At the bar's only arcade game, Kristin's husband, Jason, and Enrique were competing in a game of video golf. I watched as Jason pulled back and lurched forward to drive the ball admirably over the fairway to land on the green by rolling a metallic ball with the palm of his hand. He stood back to allow Enrique to step forward for his turn.
"That's nothing..." The Puerto Rican said as he stepped up to tee off. "Yesterday, I hit the flag pole on this hole. Let me show you how to do it..."
I continued past, uninterested.
"What's up, man?" Randy asked as I sat down next to him. The bartender was pointing at me questioningly.
"A Coors Light," I ordered with a smile, understanding the language. "Not much, man," I then replied to Randy, "looks like the bar is hopping tonight."
"Yeah, pretty much everyone from the buffet is here," he responded.
I threw a couple of bucks down for the beer and another one for a tip, took a drink, and relaxed.
I spent a few minutes shooting the shit with Randy, getting my bearings in all the excitement before I meandered to socialize with the various cliques. I gestured to the bartender for another beer and then added, "...and two shots of vodka, please."
"What kind?" the bartender asked.
I chuckled in response, "I don't know. Whatever kind she's drinking." I pointed at Joanna, and the drink-maker nodded. She grabbed a bottle off the shelf and sat my order in front of me on the bar. I paid, included a tip, and brought the drinks to the circle that included the Polish girl, Stacey, and some of the foreign exchange students.
"So you don't consider the term pollock to be an insult?" Stacey was inquiring.
"Not really... I mean, that's what we call ourselves. Not sure why everyone gets so upset by that word," Joanna replied.
"But what about Pollock jokes?" Stacey continued.
"I like them. We take them back to Poland, and turn them into American jokes," Joanna laughed.
"Here..." I interrupted the conference by handing Joanna one of the shots of vodka. "Happy Birthday!"
"You're doing a shot with me?" Joanna appeared impressed.
"Cheers," I answered by raising my shot glass.
"Na zdrowie," Joanna corrected. "That's how we say cheers in Polish." She raised her glass and toasted me.
"Na zdrowie," I echoed as I somehow managed to down the devilish swill. "I know a pollock joke..." I coughed as I wiped a stray drop of vodka from my chin.
"Tell it," she encouraged. Our circle tightened as everyone tuned in.
"Well, there was this guy that was throwing bricks in the air at the park," I paused, assessing Joanna's reaction and deeming it reassuring, I continued. "He was really good at throwing bricks. He could throw a brick and make it land, pinpoint, wherever he wanted. He'd say, 'I'm gonna make this brick land on that bench over there.' He'd throw it up; and, sure enough, it'd land on the bench. He'd say, 'I'm gonna make it land on that candy wrapper on the ground.' He'd throw it up; it'd soar twenty feet into the air; and, sure enough, it'd land smack dab on the wrapper.
"So, there's this Pollock who was watching the feat. He got really excited watching the brick-thrower and decided that he could do the same thing. He ran up and grabbed one of the man's bricks. Before anyone could even react, the Pollock shouted, 'I'm gonna make this brick land over there on that tree root.' He pointed at the root of a large, oak tree about twenty yards away. He cradled the brick in both hands; and, before anyone could even react, he tossed it, granny-style, high into the air...
"...and the brick never came down."
I looked around expectantly at my audience, looking for a promising reaction. Everyone was just looking at me dumbly and expressionless. Jukebox music droned, and someone across the room coughed. Finally, Stacey broke the silence with a merciful laugh, "ok... that joke sucked." The rest of the group exhaled, and Joanna started laughing as well.
"That was really bad," the Polish girl confessed with a grin.
A familiar, cumbersome voice interrupted our gathering. "What's going on here?" The circle widened to make space for Enrique who didn't mind making room for himself.
"Let's get another shot," Stacey proposed insistently, grabbing Joanna's arm and leading her to the bar. Joanna looked relieved. Everyone else began pairing off in different directions. One Brazilian boy, left alone with myself and Enrique, began swatting an invisible fly. He shuffled uncomfortably before heading in the direction of the restroom. Enrique and I were the only two remaining.
"How you doing?" He asked me in his thick accent as he extended his hand for a handshake. I shook it awkwardly and tried to smile.
"Oh, pretty good," I said as I looked over his shoulder to where Randy was sitting. "Oh, hey man..." I nodded at Randy, who was entirely preoccupied in conversation with the bartender to even notice me. "Yeah!" I nodded and gestured Randy's way and then said to Enrique, "...guess Randy's wanting something. Who knows! I'll see what he wants. Holler at ya later man..."
I escaped Enrique and made my way to the bar stool where I had been stationed earlier. It was still empty. Randy acknowledged me by saying, "I was about to order one. You need one?"
"Always." I responded with my trademark, goofy laugh and planted myself at my locus beside my friend.
Once my beer arrived, Randy paid for it; and, we'd rotate this routine for awhile as we conferred on matters of video games or talk of work or women or sports or beer. Time skipped away past gas lights of dialogue and through the playful shadows of debate. The sound of shattering beer bottles tallied in the trash were our marks of the passing night.
Once I attained the recess of inebriation, I happily reexamined the room. Somebody had gotten the karaoke machine out. Jason was singing "Epic" by Faith No More and doing a rather nice job of it. Kristin and Crystal were thumbing through the song catalogue, searching for a song they could perform as a duet. Chris, the other busser from the buffet, was taking a shot with some girl I didn't recognize. Enrique was playing video golf with that Brazilian fly-swatter. And across the bar from me and Randy, Joanna and Stacey were volleying conversation.
Stacey was wrapping up a piece of dialogue as she excused herself and stood to head to, most likely, the restroom. Joanna sat there by herself, charmingly sipping away at a shot of vodka that was sitting in front of her.
"I'll be right back," I explained to Randy as I stood, grabbed my beer, and made my way over to where the Polish girl was now sitting by herself.
When I arrived at her spot, I asked, "Wanna hear a joke?"
She looked up; and, upon recognizing me, she responded with, "oh, God, no... no thank you..." She was laughing as she said it, and I noticed how blue her eyes were when she smiled.
"Oh, c'mon... just one more... I'll leave you alone after this one..." I pulled the stool beside her away from the bar so that I could sit. Feeling a bit drunk and cocky, I leaned my elbow on the bar and smiled as I turned to face her.
"If you insist..." she acquiesced uncertainly.
I cleared my throat dramatically and settled into my chair before I began. "Ok, well, see, there was this guy..." I drunkenly slurred my words, but somehow managed to continue. She didn't mind as she seemed to be in a similar state. "He had a pet duck. He'd had this duck for a long time, and he was crazy about it..."
I took a sip of Coors Light before continuing. I could see Stacey from the corner of my eye. She had apparently been sidetracked returning from the restroom by running into someone that liked to talk. I felt regal in my new-found role of keeping the birthday girl entertained.
"So one day, he was taking a trip to see his mother in New York. He brought his pet duck on the plane with him and sat it in the seat next to him. Content, he sat back and lit a cigar. Once the plane took off, the stewardess began making her rounds and noticed the duck sitting next to the man. 'Ummm, sir, I'm sorry. But you can't have a duck on this plane! We have a strict No Pets policy on board. You're going to have to give me the duck.' Before the man could even respond, the lady grabbed the duck and briskly walked to the front of the cabin. The man was outraged! He leaped from his seat and chased after the cruel stewardess. She brought the duck to the cargo bay door, opened it, and, before the man could even react, tossed the duck from the plane. Infuriated, he shouted at the lady and furiously tossed his cigar out the cargo bay door, as well. He and the stewardess yelled at each other for a while before the man began to realize that shouting at her wasn't going to bring his beloved duck back. Heartbroken, he returned to his seat to sulk. Distraught, he looked out the plane window and, to his surprise, he saw the duck flying alongside the plane! And, you'll never guess what was in its mouth..." I rhetorically spoke the last part with a questioning look at Joanna.
Totally engrossed in the story, she jumped to realize that I was wanting her to say it. She shrugged and then smiled, "the cigar?" .
I relaxed in my bar stool as I corrected her. "Nope. It was the brick that that Pollock threw up."
And then she laughed. Only this time, she was really laughing. The kind of laugh that jerks tears from your eyes. And, seeing her laugh, and absolutely proud of my two-part orchestration, I, too, began to laugh. And, she saw that I was laughing, and this made her laugh harder. And, seeing her laugh even harder made me laugh even harder. Until...
Half of the bar had turned to see what all the hysteria was about. Funny how infectious laughter is. Some of them began to laugh at watching us laugh.
Eventually, we pulled it together. "Ok, that was a good one," Joanna praised.
After that, we just talked. We passed the night with casual conversation. Of Poland. Of America. Of movies and books and pet peeves and beer and vodka. Of dreams. Stacey eventually rejoined us. Others came and went, but we vigilantly talked for the rest of the night. Laughing and drinking.
From across the bar, Enrique had taken my previous spot beside Randy. He watched us. And he wasn't laughing...
(to be continued...)
Continue our "How We Fell in Love" story:
Chapter 5 - "Flowers"
Blogger's Note: I've been putting this one off.
Writing our "How We Met" story has kept my brain percolating with ideas, plot points, outlines, and strategies. Some of which I will share with you now.
As you may have already figured out, I have taken some liberties with the re-telling of this story. Now, I can only promise you, this story is as true as I can make it while still keeping it interesting enough to read. Everything really did happen as I have described, but I have used several of my modest writing talents to mold them into serial "episodes" that contain the following: a new character, something funny, and something to tug at your heart-strings. I wanted each chapter to be a story in itself; so, sometimes I re-arrange the events to keep the pulse rhythmic and healthy. And, sometimes I encounter problems along the way...
One of these problems is that the setting for much of this story is where I work. And I obviously have to be careful there. I've tried to tiptoe just to be safe, but I don't want to write anything that might shine any negative light on my place of employment or on any of its employees. I love my job, and I respect both my co-workers and the rules of social media. So, to circumvent this problem (and just to be safe), in some of the future chapters, I will take some artistic license and move the setting when I feel it appropriate to do so.
Another of these problems is the naming of the characters. Sometimes, I have kept their real names; sometimes, I have changed them. If I keep their name, that's because I feel like I can safely say that they are/were/will be a protagonist throughout the story. In fact, there's only one antagonist in this story, and you may have already figured out who that is (hell, every good story needs a villain, right?) Now, whether that is/was a real person is for you to decide (perhaps you can read between the lines...) And sometimes, I change the name simply because I don't feel total confidence that this person would feel that what I was writing would be material that I should be freely sharing. I try not to even use this type of "material"; but, when I find it very necessary for the story, I do so by changing that person's identity.
As I was mentally structuring the outline for our story, I put a shiny, yellow star beside certain plot points. Everything else is just connecting the dots to these points. I fill in the gaps to these major events by creatively introducing the characters and devices necessary to tell the bigger story. Today's chapter is the first of those special pinnacles. And I want to do it right. Nearly all of the characters are present here, even some of which you haven't met yet, but I can put off this chapter no longer. I will try to incorporate them as best I can while keeping true to the pattern. I hope you enjoy...
I could hear club music illuminating the lonely, winter parking lot. It seeped through walls and windows as it pulsed its way into the night's freedom. Cut by the screech of my closing, car door, it muffled my foot falls and promised to escort me to the party inside.
Through the gaps in the neon, beer signs I could see some people I recognized inside. Randy, still in his suit and tie, must have just gotten off work. He was sitting across the bar laughing at something or someone that was beyond my sight. He was another of our supervisors and fun to hang out with. Kristin and Crystal were sitting with their backs to me, toasting a shot, and sharing a joke. A couple of the foreign exchange students walked by in conversation and happily infused in the Americana.
When I opened the door, the music engulfed me.
"Duane!" Randy hollered from across the bar. At Ernies' people didn't yell things, they hollered.
I smiled as I made my way to the bar stool next to him. Along the way, I passed a group of the students gathered in a circle. Among them, Joanna and Stacey were apparently in some cosmic dialogue.
"Happy Birthday!" I shouted at Joanna as I passed.
"Hey!" She shouted back. "Come here! I buy you a shot!"
"I'll be right there," I smiled as I continued past.
At the bar's only arcade game, Kristin's husband, Jason, and Enrique were competing in a game of video golf. I watched as Jason pulled back and lurched forward to drive the ball admirably over the fairway to land on the green by rolling a metallic ball with the palm of his hand. He stood back to allow Enrique to step forward for his turn.
"That's nothing..." The Puerto Rican said as he stepped up to tee off. "Yesterday, I hit the flag pole on this hole. Let me show you how to do it..."
I continued past, uninterested.
"What's up, man?" Randy asked as I sat down next to him. The bartender was pointing at me questioningly.
"A Coors Light," I ordered with a smile, understanding the language. "Not much, man," I then replied to Randy, "looks like the bar is hopping tonight."
"Yeah, pretty much everyone from the buffet is here," he responded.
I threw a couple of bucks down for the beer and another one for a tip, took a drink, and relaxed.
I spent a few minutes shooting the shit with Randy, getting my bearings in all the excitement before I meandered to socialize with the various cliques. I gestured to the bartender for another beer and then added, "...and two shots of vodka, please."
"What kind?" the bartender asked.
I chuckled in response, "I don't know. Whatever kind she's drinking." I pointed at Joanna, and the drink-maker nodded. She grabbed a bottle off the shelf and sat my order in front of me on the bar. I paid, included a tip, and brought the drinks to the circle that included the Polish girl, Stacey, and some of the foreign exchange students.
"So you don't consider the term pollock to be an insult?" Stacey was inquiring.
"Not really... I mean, that's what we call ourselves. Not sure why everyone gets so upset by that word," Joanna replied.
"But what about Pollock jokes?" Stacey continued.
"I like them. We take them back to Poland, and turn them into American jokes," Joanna laughed.
"Here..." I interrupted the conference by handing Joanna one of the shots of vodka. "Happy Birthday!"
"You're doing a shot with me?" Joanna appeared impressed.
"Cheers," I answered by raising my shot glass.
"Na zdrowie," Joanna corrected. "That's how we say cheers in Polish." She raised her glass and toasted me.
"Na zdrowie," I echoed as I somehow managed to down the devilish swill. "I know a pollock joke..." I coughed as I wiped a stray drop of vodka from my chin.
"Tell it," she encouraged. Our circle tightened as everyone tuned in.
"Well, there was this guy that was throwing bricks in the air at the park," I paused, assessing Joanna's reaction and deeming it reassuring, I continued. "He was really good at throwing bricks. He could throw a brick and make it land, pinpoint, wherever he wanted. He'd say, 'I'm gonna make this brick land on that bench over there.' He'd throw it up; and, sure enough, it'd land on the bench. He'd say, 'I'm gonna make it land on that candy wrapper on the ground.' He'd throw it up; it'd soar twenty feet into the air; and, sure enough, it'd land smack dab on the wrapper.
"So, there's this Pollock who was watching the feat. He got really excited watching the brick-thrower and decided that he could do the same thing. He ran up and grabbed one of the man's bricks. Before anyone could even react, the Pollock shouted, 'I'm gonna make this brick land over there on that tree root.' He pointed at the root of a large, oak tree about twenty yards away. He cradled the brick in both hands; and, before anyone could even react, he tossed it, granny-style, high into the air...
"...and the brick never came down."
I looked around expectantly at my audience, looking for a promising reaction. Everyone was just looking at me dumbly and expressionless. Jukebox music droned, and someone across the room coughed. Finally, Stacey broke the silence with a merciful laugh, "ok... that joke sucked." The rest of the group exhaled, and Joanna started laughing as well.
"That was really bad," the Polish girl confessed with a grin.
A familiar, cumbersome voice interrupted our gathering. "What's going on here?" The circle widened to make space for Enrique who didn't mind making room for himself.
"Let's get another shot," Stacey proposed insistently, grabbing Joanna's arm and leading her to the bar. Joanna looked relieved. Everyone else began pairing off in different directions. One Brazilian boy, left alone with myself and Enrique, began swatting an invisible fly. He shuffled uncomfortably before heading in the direction of the restroom. Enrique and I were the only two remaining.
"How you doing?" He asked me in his thick accent as he extended his hand for a handshake. I shook it awkwardly and tried to smile.
"Oh, pretty good," I said as I looked over his shoulder to where Randy was sitting. "Oh, hey man..." I nodded at Randy, who was entirely preoccupied in conversation with the bartender to even notice me. "Yeah!" I nodded and gestured Randy's way and then said to Enrique, "...guess Randy's wanting something. Who knows! I'll see what he wants. Holler at ya later man..."
I escaped Enrique and made my way to the bar stool where I had been stationed earlier. It was still empty. Randy acknowledged me by saying, "I was about to order one. You need one?"
"Always." I responded with my trademark, goofy laugh and planted myself at my locus beside my friend.
Once my beer arrived, Randy paid for it; and, we'd rotate this routine for awhile as we conferred on matters of video games or talk of work or women or sports or beer. Time skipped away past gas lights of dialogue and through the playful shadows of debate. The sound of shattering beer bottles tallied in the trash were our marks of the passing night.
Once I attained the recess of inebriation, I happily reexamined the room. Somebody had gotten the karaoke machine out. Jason was singing "Epic" by Faith No More and doing a rather nice job of it. Kristin and Crystal were thumbing through the song catalogue, searching for a song they could perform as a duet. Chris, the other busser from the buffet, was taking a shot with some girl I didn't recognize. Enrique was playing video golf with that Brazilian fly-swatter. And across the bar from me and Randy, Joanna and Stacey were volleying conversation.
Stacey was wrapping up a piece of dialogue as she excused herself and stood to head to, most likely, the restroom. Joanna sat there by herself, charmingly sipping away at a shot of vodka that was sitting in front of her.
"I'll be right back," I explained to Randy as I stood, grabbed my beer, and made my way over to where the Polish girl was now sitting by herself.
When I arrived at her spot, I asked, "Wanna hear a joke?"
She looked up; and, upon recognizing me, she responded with, "oh, God, no... no thank you..." She was laughing as she said it, and I noticed how blue her eyes were when she smiled.
"Oh, c'mon... just one more... I'll leave you alone after this one..." I pulled the stool beside her away from the bar so that I could sit. Feeling a bit drunk and cocky, I leaned my elbow on the bar and smiled as I turned to face her.
"If you insist..." she acquiesced uncertainly.
I cleared my throat dramatically and settled into my chair before I began. "Ok, well, see, there was this guy..." I drunkenly slurred my words, but somehow managed to continue. She didn't mind as she seemed to be in a similar state. "He had a pet duck. He'd had this duck for a long time, and he was crazy about it..."
I took a sip of Coors Light before continuing. I could see Stacey from the corner of my eye. She had apparently been sidetracked returning from the restroom by running into someone that liked to talk. I felt regal in my new-found role of keeping the birthday girl entertained.
"So one day, he was taking a trip to see his mother in New York. He brought his pet duck on the plane with him and sat it in the seat next to him. Content, he sat back and lit a cigar. Once the plane took off, the stewardess began making her rounds and noticed the duck sitting next to the man. 'Ummm, sir, I'm sorry. But you can't have a duck on this plane! We have a strict No Pets policy on board. You're going to have to give me the duck.' Before the man could even respond, the lady grabbed the duck and briskly walked to the front of the cabin. The man was outraged! He leaped from his seat and chased after the cruel stewardess. She brought the duck to the cargo bay door, opened it, and, before the man could even react, tossed the duck from the plane. Infuriated, he shouted at the lady and furiously tossed his cigar out the cargo bay door, as well. He and the stewardess yelled at each other for a while before the man began to realize that shouting at her wasn't going to bring his beloved duck back. Heartbroken, he returned to his seat to sulk. Distraught, he looked out the plane window and, to his surprise, he saw the duck flying alongside the plane! And, you'll never guess what was in its mouth..." I rhetorically spoke the last part with a questioning look at Joanna.
Totally engrossed in the story, she jumped to realize that I was wanting her to say it. She shrugged and then smiled, "the cigar?" .
I relaxed in my bar stool as I corrected her. "Nope. It was the brick that that Pollock threw up."
And then she laughed. Only this time, she was really laughing. The kind of laugh that jerks tears from your eyes. And, seeing her laugh, and absolutely proud of my two-part orchestration, I, too, began to laugh. And, she saw that I was laughing, and this made her laugh harder. And, seeing her laugh even harder made me laugh even harder. Until...
Half of the bar had turned to see what all the hysteria was about. Funny how infectious laughter is. Some of them began to laugh at watching us laugh.
Eventually, we pulled it together. "Ok, that was a good one," Joanna praised.
After that, we just talked. We passed the night with casual conversation. Of Poland. Of America. Of movies and books and pet peeves and beer and vodka. Of dreams. Stacey eventually rejoined us. Others came and went, but we vigilantly talked for the rest of the night. Laughing and drinking.
From across the bar, Enrique had taken my previous spot beside Randy. He watched us. And he wasn't laughing...
(to be continued...)
Continue our "How We Fell in Love" story:
Chapter 5 - "Flowers"
