When Fish Are Dogs
I was running in the dark of early morning when, up ahead on the sidewalk, I saw a human head. My God a human head, I thought, but it turned out to be a plastic bag.
I wondered awhile what one is supposed to do when they find a human head on the sidewalk. I suppose you contact the authorities. When 911 asks you for the nature of your emergency, you say “Yes. Hello. I was running—just now—and found someone’s head on the sidewalk.” But be careful. Don’t let your voice shake or quiver—even a little bit. Because you’re already a suspect. “You found it. You chopped it off.” That’s what they say down at the station. It’s a police maxim. Police rely on maxims more than the facts because they’re fat and lazy. Man, I hate cops.
How crazy would it be if I went to prison for chopping off someone’s head that turned out to be a plastic bag? I bet that would make the papers. And a bunch of people would organize and protest. They would hold signs that said things like “FREE THE IMAGINATION” and “IT ONLY LOOKED LIKE A HEAD”. Maybe Bob Dylan would write a song about it. It would suck to be in prison but having Bob Dylan write a song about you would kick major ass. So you take the good with the bad.
Jenna would bring the kids to see me and we’d talk on those telephones through the glass. I would explain to Jenna for the millionth time: “Baby. I told you I’m innocent. A). I only found the head. I swear to God I didn’t chop it off. And B). It was a fucking plastic bag.” But she would only look at me the way she looks at me when I swear I don’t snore. Lucy would get on the phone and she’d look like little kids look when their Dads are in prison. It bums them out. Parents are supposed to set good examples. But it’s hard when you’re in prison. A lot of prison stuff is hard.
But I’d put my hand on the glass—it would be very emotional—and say “Cheer up little Lucy girl. This is only Daddy’s imagination. I learned it from watching you.” (I’d say the last part like that little kid in the pot commercial.)
Lucy squealed “Watch me, Daddy! Watch me!” and then she swam in 3 quick little circles. The pool and the sky were bluer than cartoons—the opposite of prison. So pleased with herself, and without even thinking, she emphatically claimed “I’m a fish who’s a dog who’s chasing her tail.” And I did the sputtery Dad smile—the one that makes people with no children sick.
I thought about the way invisible connections make metaphors possible and how all kids are poets. And then, like a fish who’s a dog, I imagined the whole running story about the head and the plastic bag, in prison in a pool on the hottest day of July, chasing my tail.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Reader Comments (14)
You have made me feel so better about myself by posting this. I thought I was the only one that thought of such scenarios.
Hope the hamstring gets better, and quickly!
I like the old pot commercial. I use that line about "learned it from watching you" a lot.
"You found it. You chopped it off", huh?
Is that like "Whoever smelt it, dealt it?" ;)
It's pretty amazing where the mind can take you on a good run.
I love the sputtery Dad smile. It gets me everytime.
Man, I can't tell you how often I get paranoid that I'll walk into a crime scene or something and bam! Cops. That's why I never call them when I find (or make) heads in bags. I play out the whole thing in my head too. "Where am I going to get $50,000 for a good defense attorney?" Worse, when people accuse me of things I didn't do, I get all nervous because I know they already think it, so I'd probably fail a lie detector (though not relevant) and then I think about jail. "Just remember, Clay. Find the biggest guy and beat his ass (or blow him) until you can make bail. What if my girlfriend doesn't believe me? Fucking system." I can't tell you how many "Sisters of Mercy" rape gangs I've beat up in my mind. I am bad ass in my "I've been framed because I found a head in a bag" prison fantasies.
Sometimes I take over Wall Street with a buddy like in Trading Places. We make millions, put Bank of America out of business and then have sex with Jamie Lee Curtis. (At the same time. I changed it up a little. There's also a magic ring and a quest.)
Just the other day, sitting out on my deck in the 110 heat index afternoon, I won the lottery. I put on my favorite outfit. Called Jason and told him the good news. Winth a few short hours, the kids were in a Swiss boarding school with their college eduactions paid in full. Jason and I were in Hawaii, on a beach, drinking rum, in the 110 degree heat. But it was all good, the scenery was much better than my back yard...
this bag is a toy. That head, on the other hand, is a power tool. And the hand can be used like a knife, but not on a tomato. Just on human flesh. The japanese figured all this out long ago.
My, two-year-old, who goes to watch my five-year-old at his swim classes, now demonstrates basic dog paddle technique in the bathtub, more eager to have me to watch and approve than actually to get his face near the water. He says "swimming," with his clumsy inarticulatation, but I feel flying. How dare he do that to me, I worked all day to be this cynical.
If SpongeBob SquareDylan wrote a song about you, but no one could understand a word of his mumbling FolkCore, would it still kick ass, major or otherwise?
Yesterday I saw a squirrel on it's hind legs holding a bright red rose in it's mouth. Turned out it was just somebody's discarded fast food bag. Imagination is better.
My husband caught himself on a train, measuring the bag of the person beside him against his arm, to see if you could fit a human arm into a sports bag. Then he looked up and saw the guy looking at him weirdly, as if he was a man who transports body parts on public transport...
I love the fish dog story.
http://cache-03.gawkerassets.com/assets/images/12/2009/01/VW_SpaceFox_DogFish.jpg
http://stratstars.pbworks.com/f/fish-dog.jpg
Jesus, this reminded me of this one night in college, I was walking home through this alley, and up ahead there was this dumpster, on top of which I could have sworn this evil elf thing was sitting. I guess I'd forgotten my glasses. But I kept walking towards it anyway because an evil elf thing sitting on a dumpster, that's just silly. When I got closer, I could see that it was just an oddly piled pile of trash that looked not at all like an evil elf thing. But damn if it didn't get my heart rate up for a second there.
Fantastic.
I've had that thought. You took it so much further.