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