Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Meet David.

See that man in the photograph? The Fat American?

No, not that Fat American, the other Fat American, the one pacifying his hunger with a corndog.

You don't know him, but his name is David.

Actually, it's Charlie. His name was David, before he changed it after his divorce in an attempt to reinvent himself. He also shaved his head but if he had known that half of it would never grow back, he might have resorted to something less drastic. Like buying a new hat.

This is the 9,669th photo ever taken of him, and because the primary subject of your photo is of you and your lovely family, posing in front of the inflatable cow at the fair, I'm not sure if that counts. He's a collateral artifact of your otherwise well composed photograph, but I suppose you get what you get when you ask strangers to take snapshots for you.

He'll have 1,339 more photos taken of him, before he ironically falls to his demise due to a corndog, much like the one's he's finishing in the picture. But set your natural assumption aside, because it's not the all-beef, lightly breaded foodstuff that kills him. A sizable chunk does lodge in his airway, but it's the sharp blow from a bystander that sends him tumbling headfirst into the sidewalk that ends him. His brain will bleed internally from the impact, and he never gets a glimpse of the Former Special Forces retiree who does him in.

"It's just instincts," the man explains to the cops. "I figured a sharp chop to the neck would send the food sailing out of his maw." He skirts prosecution because of the Good Samaritian law, but would sometimes break down into tears when he gets a visual trigger. His grandson's fifth birthday will be commerated by Grandpa frantically snatching corndogs out of little hands, pitching the barely eaten joy-on-a-sticks into the pond, and then some heavy heaving in between sobs. Children and Koi will not be amused.

Five minutes and 33 seconds before David was immortalized in your photo, his moral core was tested. While entering the bathroom stall, he spotted a wallet sitting on the dispenser. He swung the door open, looked to see if there was anyone was searching for something, then closed the door behind him. He opened the wallet, sifted through receipts and found 4 $20 bills and a handful of singles. He found a driver's license and studied the face on the photograph. Seems to be doing okay financially. Glancing at the toilet, the decision came easily. He had no problems taking from a man with that face and doesn't flush. He exits the stall, deposits the wallet into a trash receptacle, and heads toward the bathroom at the opposite side of the fair.

But first, he thought while fanning through the bills in his hand, a corndog.

Sunday, February 22, 2009


I'm in it. Hope I will have a better, more productive week next week. Feel like I'm not maintain or making any connections. Sigh.