Archive for the ‘Freaks’ Category

Happy Monday!

October 19, 2009

I wonder if schools are more selective about their teachers these days.

I had a high-school teacher that greeted us with such giddy enthusiasm when we entered the classroom – I might say he “pranced” around the room, his little toesies all dressed up for the day in black, dress socks. I could see the socks because those feet weren’t stuffed into a smelly old shoe – no! They were free as you and me in a classic Birkenstock sandal.

Seven Paula Figurines lined the front of his desk.

Gosh, that is so sweet.

Six of them kept their backs to us, the seventh would be turned to let us know what day of the week it was,”Happy Monday!” and so on. So much better than a calender.

We were told that we should address him as “Doctor” – that title was later disputed. And revoked. Turns out it was all just a fantasy… oh, such a fantasy… I imagine myself getting a doctorate degree in religion… 

He described one of his teaching methods as “accelerated learning.” All students were required to put their heads on their desk – or grab one of his strange-smelling pillows from his “cubby-hole.” Classical music blaring, he read aloud – synchronizing the inflection of his voice to the swells and ebbs of the music.

I wish I could remember what he read. Maybe it was the multiplication-tables. Or Jim Jones’ manifesto.

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Freak Show

September 28, 2009

There were two parts to the Freak Show – two tents – one contained The Fat Lady and the other was filled with the usual freakish-fare. I didn’t really want to pay to see the Fat Lady so I poked my head under the tent – it seemed silly to pay to see a fat lady but this was before the days of google searches and voyeuristic television masquerading as health and human interest stories. Before the days of shows actually called, World’s Fattest Woman.

So I poked my head under the tent. A pit had been dug in the dirt in the center of the tent – she, all 600 pounds of her, sat in the pit.

In a bikini.

A teeny weeny bikini. The paying public stared and stared while she thumbed through the pages of a paperback.

The other tent promised a variety of oddities and I handed my tickets to the dusty man guarding the flap-door. In this tent there was a stage and on the stage there was a sign and on the sign were the words, “World’s Fattest Man” 

The crowd – and I was in the crowd now – stared at the sign and waited for the man. He hobbled out using two canes – those canes that have the four baby canes on the bottom. He reached the center of the stage and lowered himself into a reinforced chair, spoke to the crowd about his thyroid disorder, and asked if we wanted to see him attach a bucket of bolts to his tongue.

Ugh. I wanted my tickets back. 

Why can’t things be the way they’re supposed to be? And why can’t freaks just enjoy their exploitation? If I were a freak (if) I’d love it. I’d use my freakish power for the good of mankind. 

I’d love to have one super long arm. A Super Arm. I could take seemingly candid pictures of myself even more easily!

Fran-working

Do you see that?

It’s like someone else is taking the picture. But what a struggle!

If I had Super Arm my whole life would change.

Super Arm!