Tales From
Wilton Manors
Wrinkleton Comic Series
- Art by Shannon Gallogly
A lady pug with a round
bubbly mug
Zine
6 (2015-07)
Catholic School Boys In
Trouble (Part 6) Summer
Camp – by Brett Butler
Luckily enough, I was able to
pass Bible study with Luke
Roberts’ help. Each day after
school, we would meet at Java
Boys, drink coffee, and
discuss the Bible. It is a
subject I know nothing about,
since I am Jewish. Our
friendship grew and on the last
day of the term, Luke kissed
me. It was what I’d been
waiting for all year. But sadly,
it was nothing like my hot
sweaty make out session with
Jordan. Jordan had broken it
off with Daniel, but Daniel
told us that it was the other
way around. Pickles warned
me, that what Jordan does, is
love you and leave you and
that I did the best thing by not
going after him. I still couldn’t
forget him, even though I had
my eye on Luke Roberts. He
needed to be my main focus.
So now my parents have sent
me to an all-boys, sports, sleep
away camp. “Just kill me.”
That’s all I can say. Pickles
has come with me to support
me through this punishment,
but I have not seen him since
we arrived. It all started three
days ago when Pickles and me
got off the bus at “Falling
Creek Sports Camp for Boys”.
“I’m just going to die”,
Pickles said as we went to find
our bunk. Sweat poured from
our bodies. I thought Wilton
Manors was hot, but this place
was like a desert. “We have
each other to get through
this”, I told him.. “This is a
prison camp with no phones or
Wi-Fi. I won’t make it.” As we
went up the wooden stairs and
walked into a room full of
bunk beds, Pickles had a
shocked look on his face. “No
air conditioning?” “You will
survive”, I said. “No sweetie,
my hair won’t survive this
summer if I have to sleep in
this heat.” Just then, a very
cute Latino boy with a
Mohawk came over to us.
“You guys in this bunk?”, he
asked. For once, Pickles was
silent. He could not say a
word. I thought it was the
shock of no air conditioning
and phone. “Yeah, I am Blair
and this is my best friend
Pickles.” “I’m Louis, but
everyone calls me Louie.”
Pickles just stared at Louie. I
could tell he was in love. I
dragged Pickles to our bunk
beds. He could not stop
looking at Louie. As I
unpacked, Pickles and Louie
just kept looking at each other.
Louie came over. He took
Pickles’ hand. “Let me show
you around poppy”, Louie
said. “Sure now”, Pickles said
as he ran his hand through his
short blond hair. “Yes, let’s
start at the lake.” As soon as I
closed my suitcase to join
them, they were gone. I had
lost my best friend for the
summer. I walked outside and
thought about Luke Roberts.
Even though we kissed, I did
not know where we stood,
since he never said a thing. I
turned around and I almost
had a stroke as I saw Jordan
going into the bunkhouse. I
ran inside and almost tripped
over him. “What are you
doing here?”, I asked. Jordan
gave me a smile. “I’m the CIT
assigned to this bunk.” I
needed Pickles. Instead he
was making out with Louie in
the woods, while I was
passing out on the floor. Next
time: The summer is off to a
great start, but a familiar face
will throw some drama in the
mix.
Poem by Alexey Damov
A sensitive creature
Drank beer at breakfast
Lied to his wife and
Resented Nietzsche
Mind you – he said –
There’s no difference
Between a book on a shelf
And a gust of wind
And in his study among
Half empty bottles of gin
Stood lion’s skull with
Ice axe driven through it
Poem by Alexey Damov
At this hour in this room
Stand thoughtful and tall
Yours are ambition
And sexual joys
Numb city impaired night
Moon a pill to do away
headache
Stand at this hour
Proud and cold
Yours is blind heart
But also intellectual pains
Shotgun over the bed
Next to a photograph of a poet
Stand fearless because you
Had a shot or two and moral
Time slows as it makes the
corner
Yellow its fangs
Tonight the splendor
Of Latin East
Excesses of democracy
But stand among
Crashing of cymbals
And beating of drums
Defenseless against Love
And let me see you
Before you wreck my life
Art "Under Control"
- by Anggit Kunto
The Mind Is A Terribly Easy
Thing To Waste (Part 1) - by
FishSpit Bess called me and
said she was suicidal. I went
and got her and took her to the
hospital. It was the 4 th of July.
I always have lousy 4ths . . .
something bad always
happens . . . it’s an ungodly
bad day for me. It’d be no big
deal to spend it in a hospital. I
knew it’d be a day trip because
I have been where Bess was
and they take their sweet time
processing you and getting
you into a psyche facility. I‘m
sure it ain’t their fault . . .
shortage of space in the wards
you know . . . filled to
capacity! Wam ding doodle!
Everyone’s becoming a nut
job in this insane society . . .
this ridiculous gig . . . so the
beds are full and the suicide
either needs to get the job done
or slosh through the misery of
lying in a hospital for hours
waiting to get in and get some
meds in them to soften the
misery. And one can only
pray it ain’t gonna be
Thorozine . . . no . . . one banks
their sanity on a nice Librium
haze . . . or maybe some
Ativan . . . something to make
it all ok for a while. Some piss
pot, poor, poofter filled
hospitals won’t give you
nothing until you are checked
in at the ward . . . and that’s
downright cruel. Others give
you something . . . but it’s just
a drop compared to the
misery. You need a gallon of
little white pills . . . and yet
they give you a pittance. No
one can really understand the
misery of the whole she-bopshenellibang
unless it’s
happening to you. But some
places start you on a nice
smacker of Ativan . . . straight
from the needle . . . and these
places are fine . . . and you
almost . . . no! You do! You
start to enjoy the whole fiasco.
So it was the 4 th . . . and my gal
had come over from the city to
see me . . . but she’d have to
wait. It was going to be a long
day. When I went to get Bess
she was making herself up . . .
yeah! Really! Trying to get
pretty. Loonies don’t think
logically . . . and Bess’s
noodle was fried. She wanted
to look her best to go in to the
hospital suicidal . . . and that’s
what the damned woman was
up to. Unbelievable the
delusion that was going on.
Not that she could do much to
make her ugly mug
presentable. Bess ain’t no
looker. No quite the
contrary . . . she had a puss
that’d make the phantom of
the opera blush . . . ‘twould
scare the hair off a boar hog!
Besides her multitude of
mental health problems, Bess
is also a hoarder. I cleaned a
space off the only chair that
had a presentable appearance
in her tiny place and sat down
to wait. Women can’t get
nowhere fast when they are
doing up their faces. And a
hoarder can’t get hardly
anywhere at all because once
they do up their faces they got
to finish packing . . . and a
hoarder is never finished
packing. There is always
something else they are sure
they will need. I sat down and
I waited. Goddamned it was
hot in her apartment! Rumsie,
the fattest of her cats, looked
like a beached whale. He was
a smoldering puss! All that fat
and fur . . . he’d had enough of
trying to get comfortable . . .
smart cat! Resigning himself
to his lot! Fi Fo Fum is the
sweet little lady cat. She’s a
friendly sort . . . always one to
come a chatterin’ . . . give you
her little opinion on things . . .
let you know how things
stood. And the third cat, Tim,
was as fat as Rumsie. . . but he
had super long legs . . . strange
looking fellow . . . like
Tweedle Dee . . . or his better
half Tweedle Dum . . . skinny
long legs and one hell of a
paunch. He didn’t like me . . .
never had . . . he came around
to give me a look-see
though . . . express his
contempt . . . to let me know
just what a charlatan I was . . .
a grande phony . . . useless as
a tick on a hound dog! More
useless than that. Smart cat!
Smarter than his owner . . . he
could read me and see what a
bastard lay inside my
benevolent appearing
exterior. These were the three
I’d be looking after while Bess
was in the psyche facility. I’d
already agreed. I didn’t need
any more responsibility in my
life . . . but one does what one
has to do. I had enough sorrow
and enough misery on my
plate without this . . . but what
else could be done?
I am doing a one issue zine of
the male version of "The Facts
of Life". I need photos or
illustrations. The characters are
Eldridge: The head boy who
rules the school. Snodgrass:
His side kick who does all his
evil deeds. Muffy: Eldridge's
girlfriend. Jordan: The new boy
who threatens Eldridge's
power over the other boys. It is
for a short story that I would
like to have faces to match the
characters. Please send
submissions to the website.
Writer/Self-Publisher:
Brett Butler
Editor/Webmaster:
Eric Schleicher
Visit our Website:
for Color/Print Version of
our Zines plus Extras:
talesfromwiltonmanors.weebly.com
Contact us by e-Mail:
talesfromwiltonmanors@yahoo.com
Like Us on Facebook:
facebook.com/TalesFromWiltonManors
Contributors: Shannon
Gallogly, Anggit Kunto,
Alexey Damov, Joseph
Wilson AKA FishSpit
Poems, Short
Stories, Art,
Comics,
Photography,
Feedback are
welcomed.
Submissions:
talesfromwiltonmanor
s.weebly.com/
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