Winners of the Bohemian's 2013
fall writing contest
Page 3 of 3
By Aloysius Beerheart
click to enlarge
A Tiny Archer showed up at my doorstep the other day. With nary a word he drew an arrow from his quiver and promptly put it through the thick head of a partially articulated Schwarzenegger action figure, leaving a sharp point protruding from the back of Arnold's prematurely orange scalp.
"Tiny Archer!" I exclaimed. "You have just dispatched a former governor of California and beloved B-movie star!"
"I'm off to Chico to star in The Adventures of Robin Hood, calmly replied the archer, "and I have to eliminate any possible competition."
I correctly pointed out to the archer that while he was indeed in Technicolor, he was a bit late to star in a movie that wrapped up in 1938. This didn't seem to bother him at all. I asked him if he also planned to eliminate Errol Flynn, but he said that his next target was Olivia de Havilland, since he intended to play Maid Marian.
It became apparent that the archer was off his meds, so I offered to brew him some Tiger Tea, which he gladly accepted. By the third cup, he had settled down a bit, so we discussed the motion picture arts and archers in popular media. I asked him if he was familiar with the comic book character the Green Arrow. With a disgusted look he said that he would never associate with anyone whose secret identity was Oliver Queen. I had to agree with him there. It would be like creating a hockey team for San Francisco and naming them the Spiders.
It grew late, and the Tiny Archer was running out of topics of conversation. He was beginning to repeat stories from earlier in the evening, and it was decided that he should be on his way. I offered to give him bus fare to Chico, but he said that a ticket to Oroville would be enough, and that he would take public transit from there to his eventual destination in Bidwell Park. He wanted to make the detour so that he could visit the Oroville sites where O. J. Simpson starred in his very first movie. I found this to be a strange request, but knowing the archer, it probably made perfect sense to him. He packed some extra Tiger Tea into his quiver for later use at various stops during the long journey. And with that he found himself Gone with the Wind.
YOU BETTER WATCH OUT, YOU BETTER NOT CRY, YOU BETTER NOT POUT
By Gabriella Buonassisi
click to enlarge
I demand to be seen. I will not hesitate to pound my fists on this door until they are bruised and bloody, or shout until my voice is hoarse. Do you know how much it costs to come up here? Do you even realize how far it is? I am not as fortunate as yourself to have magical beasts of burden to transport me across the globe.
I am here to discuss my son, Stanley. Stanley Wellington.
My Stanley has been exceptionally good this year. I assure you I keep precise track of these sorts of things. How can you, Sir, in good conscience not reward:
• All A's on his report card
• First place in the science fair
• Lead in the school musical
• Winner of the regional under-12 chess tournament
• Starting third baseman in Little League
• Leading rebounder for the school basketball team
• Church choir soloist
• Eagle Scout
• Senior citizen center volunteer
• Junior Recycler of the Year Award winner
And then this . . . this thing shows up on my doorstep. Well, chimneystep or treestep I suppose would be more accurate, but I am not in the business of making up words.
Why on earth would you think a wind-up, pastel purple bunny would be appropriate for a 12-year-old boy? And at this time of year? Was this some kind of cruel joke or bizarre statement? No, this I can only chalk up to a very real, very large lapse in mental capacity. Did you even read the letter he wrote you asking for a mountain bike?
Maybe this is a wake-up call for you to slow down. I am sure your job is extremely stressful. Could you not delegate more responsibility to your, ah, diminutive associates? Listen, none of us is getting any younger, and it is well documented that as one ages, the brain simply does not function as it used to. Perhaps a holiday would be in order. The Caymans really are lovely in January.
Yet the fact remains that you cheated my Stanley, and I will not tolerate it.
I am prepared to stay here for as long as it takes you to make this right. I have hot cider and am covered from head to toe in Versatech gear. I can wait all night. I can wait until next year's list is prepared if I have to.