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#fictoid #humor_pitiful_stabs_at #Frederick_T_Chapman_art

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Swing Shift [FICTOID]

Frank and Carla were sleeping their way across the country. 

To save money on their trip, Frank suggested they arrange a series of sleepover playdates with other couples along the way.

Something about Frank’s idea bothered Carla.  She didn’t object to playing with strange couples -- she and Frank participated in the lifestyle for years -- but the idea of trading sex for food and lodging seemed to be…well…if not borderline prostitution certainly close enough to wave at it. 

Still, it wasn’t as if they never did this sort of thing before, and they openly told the couples they contacted online that they were traveling across country, and she did veto a few couples where she felt either no connection or a bad vibe, so she just shrugged and went along with his plan. 

Gomez and Maria operated an old style motor-court motel in New Mexico, a cluster of incongruous concrete igloos that afforded all the modern amenities travelers might desire. 

Carla felt amused when she first saw Gomez’ picture -- He does look like Gomez from The Addams Family! -- but in their online chats came across as very warm and personable. 

Maria was a new mom.  She and Gomez played a bit before deciding to have a baby, and now jokingly said they “wanted to get back in the swing of things” again. 

Carla suspected Maria postpartum wanted to feel reassured she was still attractive and desirable.  She didn’t begrudge Maria that. 

They arrived at the motel shortly before nightfall.  The largest igloo -- three times the size of the rented units -- served as a combination office and home for Gomez and Maria. 

“We hire a night clerk to check people in after dark,” Gomez said.  “We’ll be fine in our apartment.” 

Maria fixed dinner for them, they had some wine, smoked some grass, engaged in some chitchat.  The baby slept soundly.  Carla felt a little odd playing with a baby in the house but Gomez rolled the crib into the main bedroom so the two couples could play in the guest room.  

They got undressed and just started playing when the baby started crying.

“I’m sorry, I’ll take care of him,” Maria said. 

On other occasions with other couples there had been times when one player excused themselves to wash up or get a drink and Carla felt no qualms on those occasions to continue playing as a threesome until the fourth partner returned.

But this felt different, not a personal need or convenience but a baby crying for his mother. 

It didn’t feel right to Carla, so she said, “Do you need any help?” and hopped out of bed to follow Maria.  Gomez and Frank chuckled but said nothing.

Maria held the baby, gently patting his back.  “He’s a little colicky,” she said.  “I’ll give him some formula, that should quiet him down.”

“Want me to hold him?” Carla said.

Maria smiled and handed her son over.

Carla stood by the crib, holding the baby, patting his back, gently swaying.  She bore no maternal instincts, deciding as a little girl she would never bring a baby into the world to run the risk of suffering the same abuse she did as a child, but found holding the baby seemed as soothing to her as to the child.

It’s the human touch, she realized.  When was the last time I physically interacted with another human being other that to have sex?

Frank wasn’t cruel or abusive, but neither was he kind or loving.  Early in their relationship Carla recognized neither of them could ever be exclusively monogamous — and to be honest, more than once when Frank irritated her she banged a guy on the sly to secretly get back at him (Just as he banged gals to get back at me.) — but their relationship always seemed more transactional than emotional. 

Frank sought sexual variety.  So did Carla, but not to Frank’s level.  They never dated exclusively and after officially becoming a couple kept an open relationship, so when Frank suggested experimenting in the lifestyle, it didn’t take much to persuade her. 

The joke in swinging circles was that the man got a couple into the lifestyle but the woman kept them there.  That wasn’t the case with Frank and Carla.  Frank remained both instigator and perpetuator.  

Maria came back with the bottle.  Carla handed her the infant and sat on the bed by them, watching Maria feed her son.

Carla felt an odd longing.  Holding the child, she felt she shared a genuine moment with him when n either wanted anything from the other beyond the comfort of their presence.

Gomez and Frank stood in the door, looking bemused.  “How is he?” Gomez asked.

“He’s okay,” said Maria, “but he may wake up again.”

Carla looked at the two men.  “Sorry guys,” she said.  “Mood’s broken.” 

Gomez and Frank shrugged — what else could they do?  “These things happen,” Gomez said.  He came in and sat beside Maria, stroking their child’s hair.

Carla wistfully realized she didn’t belong there and went into the guest bedroom with Frank.

She really wasn’t in the mood but knew it would be quicker and easier to fake an orgasm and let Frank have some fun than try to explain to him why she wasn’t in the mood, much less why she would never be in the mood with him again.

They needed to meet two more couples before they returned home.  Carla would fulfill her promises and perform enthusiastically for them and Frank, but once she got home she knew she was leaving him.

 © Buzz Dixon

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The Bad Penny [FICTOID]

Who placed the curse is forgotten and unimportant.

What’s important is the coin, the particular penny -- a 1953 Lincoln one-cent piece from the Denver mint -- carried the power of life and death.

Representative Susane Larralda heard of the penny from her great-grandmother, a refugee who fled Franco’s Spain to come to America.

“Be careful with it,” her one-eyed great-grandmother said, passing the coin down generation to generation.  “It holds the power of life and death.”

“If it holds the power of life and death,” little Susane said, “then why didn’t you use it to kill Franco so you could return to Spain.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” said her great-grandmother.  “Besides, the devil knows his own.”

“But – “

“Listen, nobody likes a smarty-pants.  The coin is cursed, take it or leave it.”

Over the years Susane’s family did try leaving it.

They’d drop it into a Salvation Army Santa’s kettle; he’d get run over by a truck.

They’d leave it as a tip for a waitress; the restaurant would burn down.

They stuck in in their fuse box instead of using a regular fuse; their house burned down.

And always the coin would somehow find its way back into their possession.

At last they settled on a strategy to deal with the coin.

If they couldn’t outright nullify its power they could at least minimalize it.

They bought a coin collecting album, stuck the penny in it, then tossed it in a trunk in the attic.

Problem solved.

…or so they thought.

So long as the coin remained in their possession, its evil power could still manifest itself.

Case in point:  During a congressional hearing on cost overruns on a Federal project in Boulder, Susane Larralda felt frustrated by a particularly recalcitrant accountant who refused to give clear, straightforward answers to such basic, simple questions as, “Why did you use Federal funds to buy a yacht?”

After an excruciatingly egregious evasion, Susane Larralda thought of the penny tucked away in the attic back home and how she’d love to slip it in the accountant’s pocket.

Instantly the accountant gasped in pain, clutched his chest, keeled over, and was dead before he hit the floor.

Shaken by this, Susane Larralda returned home and confronted her family.  “We must do something about this once and for all.  We can’t destroy it; if it didn’t melt in the fuse box it never will.  Just sticking it in the attic won’t do.  How can we permanently get rid of it?”

Their great-grandmother -- now clocking in at well over a century in age -- provided the solution:  She died.

While saddened at her death, the family realized they could get rid of the coin by placing it on her eye in the coffin, then burying both.

Two days after the funeral, as the family gathered for a big farewell meal before Susane returned to Washington, they heard a loud pounding at their front door.

Before they could answer it, the door burst off its hinges and their great-grandmother’s reanimated corpse shambled into the house, the cursed penny glowing white hot.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she / it said.

  © Buzz Dixon

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Reaction To A Reaction: DIRTIER BY THE DOZEN*

I recently watched a reaction video by Dawn Marie Anderson, a young (20s-30s) young Scotish woman to one of my favorite movies, The Dirty Dozen.

She liked it but her specific reaction led me to a couple of observations.

First, she noted The Dirty Dozen as the template for The Suicide Squad, another movie she professed to like.  She also noticed a similarity to the original US version of The Magnificent Seven (which she also liked) but apparently is unfamiliar with their cinematic ur-text, The Seven Samurai.  Movies like these draw on a long tradition of self-sacrificing heroes in popular culture such as the 47 Loyal Ronan of Japan or stories like the Alamo or Custer’s Last Stand in the U.S.**  

There is something dreadfully romantic about a group of desperados willing to throw their lives away facing overwhelming odds to achieve some objective.

Second, language or at least American accents proved a barrier to her.  She repeatedly puzzled over plot points clearly stated in the dialog.  

I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt here; many modern audiences apparently don't pay close attention to what characters actually say on screen. 

Finally, she misread the tone of The Dirty Dozen, lured into thinking it would be an action romp by the lengthy team building / training scenes that take up the bulk of the film and serves as the movie's lengthy second act director. 

It's easy to see how she misread the film since Robert Aldrich leavens this part of the movie with a lot of macho humor.*** 

The ending -- the incredibly violent brutal ending with almost all of the Dozen getting killed and the survivors badly injured -- shocked and saddened her quite badly.****  

Again this comes as no surprise if you listen to the dialog.

She did enjoy the film and recognized Charles Bronson from The Magnificent Seven but it took her a while to recognize Lee Martin and when she did it was in contrast to The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.  She's a big Jimmy Stewart fan so apparently she thought of Marvin only as a villain, unaware of his wide body of work.

I'm glad she liked The Dirty Dozen, too many younger viewers dismiss sight unseen anything made before their birth. 

But I do wonder about what seems to be a modern desire for action without consequences in modern audiences.

   © Buzz Dixon

  * I stole this parody title from MAD Magazine.  I possess neither shame nor pride.

** In the cases of the Alamo and Custer's Last Stand, boneheaded stupidity led to needless defeats that needed to be covered up by creating pop culture legends glorifying the supposedly great sacrifice made for noble causes.  In both instances, neither the causes nor the defenders were noble, but that didn’t matter to middle class / middle brow / Middle America.

*** “How macho?” you ask.  Except for some prostitute bit parts, there are no females in this movie.  Look at this cast list:  Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine, Charles Bronson, Jim Brown, John Cassavetes, Richard Jaeckel, George Kennedy, Trini López, Ralph Meeker (playing a psychiatrist!!!), Robert Ryan, Telly Savalas, Donald Sutherland, Clint Walker, Robert Webber. Tom Busby, Ben Carruthers, Stuart Cooper, Colin Maitland, Al Mancini, and Robert Phillips.  Any movie with more testosterone on the screen than The Dirty Dozen played only in Pussycat Theaters.

**** Fourteen men go on the mission.  In addition to the dozen convicts, Major Reisman (Marvin) and his platoon sergeant Bowren (Richard Jaeckel) lead the mission.  One of the dozen is killed off camera (a contract dispute when the actor’s agent tried to hold producer Aldrich up for more money ended with that character dying at the beginning of the mission) one goes bonkers and gets killed by a fellow convict, nine of the remaining ten get killed in combat (if I were remaking this John Cassavetes’ character Franco would ironically survive unscathed instead of Bronson’s Wladislaw -- the one of two “good’ convicts -- being badly injured).

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