March 12, 2010
She saw it as an oily lavender smoke, the scent which crept up into her nostrils like the damp stench of an open wound.
She cracked her eyes momentarily hoping to discern who on the elevator was attempting to disguise their own stench with a floral surrogate.
The old lady with sunken cheeks? Her look suggested a flowery grave. The bicycle courier? Had he mistakenly used his wife’s deodorant spray?
By the fourteenth floor, she could no longer stand the noxious, enveloping cloud. When the doors slid open, she fled as if for her life. After climbing six flights of stairs to her office, she sat down with the ghastly truth—
The offending scent was her new laundry detergent.
March 5, 2010
He could feel the germs collecting inside the hollows of his skull. They were multiplying like the gaggle of teenaged girls to his right. An old man now, he was rueful about the lack of a cure for the common cold. And a cure for teenagers too. Fuck science, he thought.
Fuck religion while you’re at it, he added. Jesus nor Mohamed nor Ganesh had prevented his cold. Not that he’d asked them to. Deadbeats.
It was then he felt the heavy pain he knew must be a heart attack. The girls stopped giggling. One of them called 9-1-1 on her cell phone.
As they waited for the paramedics he asked, weakly, “Why?”
She replied with a blunt, tender sincerity, “It’s what God would want me to do.”
Mr. Dapper’s Tweets of Wisdom
February 26, 2010
Though he was a high-ranking member of a white supremacist gang, he wasn’t convinced in the supremacy of his fair-skinned race. A nigress in his science class was smarter than any of them; the strongest kid in PE was Asian. The weakest, dumbest person he knew was himself.
One of his gang’s pamphlets taught him about genetics and diluting racial bloodlines. This lead him to a conclusion which startled him.
If his offspring were to have any hope of success in life, he’d need to bolster his frail genetic code with a set of superior chromosomes. So he asked the intelligent black girl to the prom.
After an incident in the parking lot, witnessed by no one, he never awoke from the coma.
Character studies, 140 characters at a time, Monday-Friday at Mr. Dapper’s Twitter.
February 19, 2010
Asleep, buffeted by the twin silver waves of the subway tracks, her head bobs on her uniform’s blue shoulders like a buoy on the dark sea. It’s almost seven bells and evening, judging by the sky’s hue whenever the train breaches the surface.
She’s slept through her watch again.
It’s not a cause for panic. She’s set herself a drift in a landlocked city in order to sleep. This is her third day sleeping on the subway. Twice a day she’s watched human tides roll in and out of the car, swirling like frothing eddies around a beached whale. Around her.
A thought washes upon her: When the whole world is an ocean, there’s no going AWOL from yourself.
February 17, 2010
From its vantage high up in the cold winter sky, the church bell tower looked down and saw the young couple fighting on the icy sidewalk.
The girl envisioned finding an apartment together within a year but he seemed content to live in his parents’ basement playing video games. Unwilling to support a woman slowly committing suicide one cigarette at a time, he wanted her to quit smoking and find a job.
Their bickering voices flew up into the air and got trapped, beside the pigeons, in the rafters of the bell tower. At noon the bells rang and sprinkled their worries back down upon them like broken snowflakes.
The bell tower thought each one was beautiful.
February 8, 2010
He drank constantly. Liquids flowed through him like a river snaking through the humid body of a dense tropical rainforest.
He drank milk.
He drank water.
He drank beer and wine and pomegranate juice.
For lunch he drank yogurt and he’d liquefy his evening meals. He even went so far as to buy a small, portable blender which he brought to restaurants and turned cheeseburgers and samosas into smoothies. After years of not eating solid foods, he had his teeth removed by a dentist in Mexico.
While convalescing at a resort, he washed down several crushed codeine pills with tap water and died from the consequential blood infection.
Visit Mr. Dapper’s Twitter for stories told 140 characters per day.
January 27, 2010
When the world ended, no one noticed. There’d been no war, no plague, no meteor, no indication of the doom that had befallen us. We carried on. Bought and sold, loved and squabbled. For years of blissful ignorance, it was business as usual. And business was very good.
One day an angel came down to tell us life as we knew it had ended; that we should be trembling and crying with our arms raised to God. People mostly laughed at the angel. Afterwards, he briefly became a sensation on the talk show circuit but we quickly lost interest in him.
Several years later, when he won on Dancing With The Stars, people began to suspect something had gone terribly wrong.