Heckling Myself

Dan Burt lives in Alabama with his wife and two sons. He is an ardent bibliophile and military veteran, having served as a member of a special unit of the U.S. Air Force during the Reagan Revolution patrolling the jungles of north Florida and protecting America from pygmy rattlesnakes and skinks. Dan was also a successful CEO of a phrenology busking business outside a local Chick-fil-A. He recently retired from the business with a coffee can full of change after being physically removed from the property. Dan has served as an expert witness in several of his own state and federal trials (42% “Not Guilty/Hung Jury” verdicts!). He is the creator and writer of the humor website Captain Canard. His weird, silly stories and cartoons have appeared in McSweeney's Internet Tendency, errant parent, Opium Magazine, Monkeybicycle, Sweet Fancy Moses, Kittenpants, and several other literary venues both online and off. You can contact Dan at www.DanBurt.com or follow him on Twitter @danburt.

How to Stack Things

BY DAN BURT

In an effort to learn a fun, personally rewarding skill and to just get out of the house (my wife's request), I decided to take a class at the local community center. After researching the variety of classes offered, everything from advanced autoerotic asphyxiation techniques to properly bashing piñatas, I selected the two-day class How to Stack Things.

As it turned out, I was the only intellectually curious student enrolled. My initial task was stacking ten (10) tin (Sn) pie pans. In my unrestrained eagerness, I fumbled the pans and dropped them to the concrete floor where they produced a cacophony similar to a surgeon's tool tray being kicked by an unrestrained, unanesthetized patient undergoing an appendectomy. After retrieving the pans, I placed them in a single row on the table. Then, with much care and patience, I stacked the pans one at a time, one on top of the other. The end result matched the diagram exactly. I was rather proud of myself especially after my discordant start. My confidence level soared after completing the assignment in just under 97 minutes (1:36:49).

The teacher was so impressed, she made me stack the pans again (and again and again and again) for the rest of the day. When I returned home, I asked my wife to massage my tight, cramping muscles. Without hesitation, she generously refused.

The second day, I was provided with three sets of items: two bagels, four small tubs of cream cheese, and five bricks. The teacher excused herself to retrieve a knife for the cream cheese. Instead of waiting for her to return, I began stacking.

I opened a tub of cream cheese, swirled a dollop on my fingers, and smeared it on a brick. I carefully placed another brick on top of the cream-cheesed brick. I opened another tub, scooped out the contents, and smeared it on the second brick. I repeated the swirl and smear technique until all five bricks were stacked and bonded together.

I wasn't quite sure what to do with the bagels. I thought about stacking them on top of the bricks, but I didn't have enough cream cheese to hold them together. I decided to lean them against the stack of bricks, one on each side, giving it the appearance of mobility -- a stack of bricks with wheels.

"What the...?"

I looked up. The teacher stood frozen in the doorway. She was so amazed by my stacking prowess, she could not even finish her question. I know she wondered how I perfectly completed the task with no instructions or diagrams.

Realizing she could not teach me anything further and must release her star stacking pupil into the world, the teacher emotionally demanded I leave. I held out my hand for a goodbye handshake, but she was too humble to shake the hand of a master stacker. Also, I still had cream cheese on my fingers. She adamantly motioned to the door, insisting I go before (I can only assume) she burst into tears and became a blubbering mess. Her screaming face was already a bright red.

I rushed home, eager to show my wife what I had learned. When I emptied a can of sliced mushrooms on the kitchen counter and asked if she would like a demonstration, my loving wife enthusiastically encouraged me to clean up the mess.

She then handed me the community center brochure and suggested I choose another class, like underwater cave exploring. I knew she was being silly because I don't know how to swim.

Memories of Granny

BY DAN BURT
 
FADE IN:

A large farmhouse with a vast front yard.

EXT. FRONT PORCH – DAY

GRANNY, 85, sits in a rocking chair gently rocking, bowl in lap, shelling peas. Voices and laughter are heard off screen, then JEFF, 32, appears, escorting HELEN, 60, and BETTY JO, 55, each holding one of his arms.

HELEN: Look who we found Momma.

GRANNY: Well, I swannee.

HELEN: I'm so glad you were able to come down to visit us son.

JEFF: I am, too, Mom. I really have missed the old farm. It's good to get away from the city every now and then and come back home.

BETTY JO: We thought you forgot about us.

JEFF: Not a chance, Aunt Betty Jo. Even though I don't visit as often as I would like, I still have my childhood memories with me.

Helen and Betty Jo climb the steps of the porch and sit in two chairs near Granny. Jeff follows and stands between Helen and Betty Jo.

HELEN: The trees in the orchard are full of apples this year. You remember when you and your brother Johnny would play in the orchard, climbing the trees like little monkeys?

JEFF: (laughing) Yes, I do.

BETTY JO: You remember when you would help me gather the apples and I would make apple pies for all you kids?

JEFF: I'm getting hungry thinking about it.

GRANNY: You remember when that girl shoved your head down her drawers?

Everybody stops and looks at Granny who continues to shell peas.

JEFF: (laughing nervously) Granny, I think I would have remembered that. You must be thinking of someone else.

GRANNY: You should remember it. It happened out there in the damn apple orchard y'all are blabbing about. It was your Cousin Lulu, Claudette's girl.

EXT. ORCHARD - DAY – FLASHBACK

A young Jeff and teenage COUSIN LULU stand facing each other. Cousin Lulu hikes her dress up and pulls out the front waistband of her panties, Jeff bends over to look. She quickly pushes down on the back of Jeff's head, trapping him in her underwear while he flails his arms.

BACK TO PRESENT DAY

GRANNY: Yeah, when you bent over to look at her possum she shoved the back of your head so hard, you were trapped in there for a week.

JEFF: (looking confused) Granny, I'm pretty sure that wasn't me.

GRANNY: It was you, godammit!

HELEN: Now, Jeff, stop aggravating Granny.

Jeff looks at Helen who gives him a look to just let it go and not argue with Granny.

BETTY JO: Hey, y'all remember when you kids would run around this yard playing tag and hide and go seek?

JEFF: Those were fun times. All that running helped me make the track team.

HELEN: Even the dogs would join in and chase you kids around.

GRANNY: You remember that night I caught you in the chicken coop?

Jeff, with his arms around Helen and Betty Jo, is laughing, thinking of the memories recalled. Momentarily, he stops laughing and looks at Granny.

JEFF: You talking to me?

GRANNY: Yeah, I'm talking to you. One night I heard the animals making a ruckus and I went out to see what was causing it.

EXT. BARNYARD - NIGHT – FLASHBACK

Animal sounds of chickens, goats, and cows permeate the night. Suddenly, the chicken coop door swings open and Jeff struts out like a prize rooster, nude, covered with feathers.

BACK TO PRESENT DAY

GRANNY: Those chickens were so messed up, they didn't lay eggs for a week.

JEFF: What the hell are you talking about?

HELEN: Now, Jeff, don't swear in front of your elders.

JEFF: But I think she's accusing me of bestiality...

GRANNY: No, I didn't say anything about the goats, but they were acting real strange, too, for about a week. And I don't think you were using what you kids call "protection". That's how you caught the chicken pox.

BETTY JO: I remember that. I had to keep telling you not to scratch.

JEFF: I got the chicken pox from my brother Johnny, not by screwing chickens!

HELEN: Son, watch your language. I taught you better than that. (to Granny.) He must have heard that in the city, Momma.

BETTY JO: Jeff, I bet your city friends don't have the childhood memories you do?

JEFF: I didn't know I had these childhood memories.

BETTY JO: Not many kids these days grow up on a farm. You kids played in the woods, running through the trees like deer. And you would hike down the canyon and go fishing and swimming in the river almost every day.

HELEN: And you would wander for hours in the fields looking for arrowheads.

JEFF: (warming to the thought) I do remember that. I called them my Indian rocks.

GRANNY: You remember when you were abducted by that UFO? You were gone for a week.

BETTY JO: Is that the first time you flew?

JEFF: (exasperated) Aunt Betty Jo, don't pay any attention to Granny. She's making this crap up.

HELEN: Jeff, what did I tell you about your language?

GRANNY: You'd like for all this to be made up, wouldn't you, you little smart-ass? But I know! I remember what happened very clearly. I was watching Red Skelton on the TV and I looked out my window.

EXT. FARMHOUSE FRONT YARD - NIGHT – FLASHBACK

Jeff stands rigid, looking up, arms outstretched, engulfed in a beam of light. Suddenly, his clothes are ripped from his body as he remains inflexible. His flapping clothes rapidly ascend in the beam of light. A moment later, Jeff, nude, zips up the beam into the UFO.

BACK TO PRESENT DAY

GRANNY: I seen you naked, shooting up in a beam of light into a round, floatin', lights-a-blinkin' UFO.

BETTY JO: Wow, that sounds exciting!

Jeff looks incredulous.

GRANNY: I asked you about it a week later. You said you were probed in your butt something fierce by an alien who looked like your Cousin Lulu dressed in a chicken outfit.

INT. SPACESHIP – FLASHBACK

Jeff is lying nude face down on a table. Cousin Lulu, dressed in a chicken costume, stands beside the table holding a long, unusual object, preparing to probe Jeff.

BACK TO PRESENT DAY

GRANNY: Serves you right for what you did to those chickens.

BETTY JO: That's true; what goes round, comes around.

JEFF: Granny, what the fuck? (looking at Helen and Betty Jo) Is she mentally stable?

HELEN: Jeff, you shut your mouth! Granny is as sharp as a tack. You can only pray that you will be able to remember half as well as Granny when you’re her age.

GRANNY: And when you got through telling me about your butt probing, you asked me for a nickel so you could go see that new moving picture show that had that Hollywood actor you were sweet on, Cary Grant.

BETTY JO: What movie did you go see?

JEFF: (exasperated) I didn't go to the movies...

GRANNY: HAH! So you didn't go to that picture show! You lying little chicken humper! You owe me a goddam nickel!

JEFF: (angry but calm) I may not remember what the hell Granny is talking about, but I do remember why I don't visit often. I also remember I need to get back home.

HELEN: Well, I hate you have to run off so soon. We've had such fun reminiscing.

BETTY JO: I forgot how much I remembered!

HELEN: I need to write down these stories for my genealogy group. Come back when you have more time.

JEFF: I'll come back...for the reading of the will.

Jeff gives Granny a mean look. Granny continues shelling peas. Jeff waves as he walks away. Near the end, he just waves his arm in their direction in an "I'm-through-with-that" manner. After he is gone, Granny begins to chuckle.

BETTY JO: Momma, what are you laughing about?

GRANNY: I remember when little Jeffrey got his box of crayons, crawled behind my couch, and marked up my walls with his little pictures. I found his little drawings about a week later.

HELEN: (shocked and surprised) Momma! Where on earth did that come from?! Any more crazy talk like that and we'll have to put you in the nervous hospital.

GRANNY: (slightly upset) But it's true, Helen. My arm is still sore. I had to scrub those walls for a week!

HELEN: All I can say is I tried my best, Momma.

GRANNY: I know you did, sweetie. But I always thought there was something wrong with that boy. I think he may be a little touched. (touches her finger to her temple)

Granny then continues to shell peas. Helen and Betty Jo grab a bowl and join her in the task.

FADE OUT