{"id":3472,"date":"2011-11-08T17:41:52","date_gmt":"2011-11-09T00:41:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sporkpress.com\/fiction\/?p=364"},"modified":"2011-11-08T17:41:52","modified_gmt":"2011-11-09T00:41:52","slug":"two-stories-by-michael-k-meyers-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/2011\/11\/08\/two-stories-by-michael-k-meyers-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Two Stories by Michael K. Meyers"},"content":{"rendered":"

Staying Up<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

     My masseuse says, \u201cI\u2019ve got you, I\u2019ve got you good, so don\u2019t change the channel.\u201d I tell her I will not, will never do that. While being kneaded and kneaded my imagination takes me to destinations inappropriate for relaxation: a falcon lands on my face, its talons digging in; my brother kicks open my bedroom door and pisses on my homework, stuff like that. I can’t wait a whole week to tell my shrink what I was thinking while I was getting a massage; she\u2019ll orgasm. I call her from my masseuse\u2019s lobby. Once she collects herself, my shrink says, \u201cThis is great news.\u201d And then, \u201cYou are making real progress and we are on the faster track to your mental wellbeing.\u201d She suggests that from now on we meet twice weekly, telling me then that she\u2019s had a cancellation and I should come right over. I tell her that what she just said, the stuff about my mental wellbeing is great news, truly, but I can\u2019t come over, not right now, maybe tomorrow because right now I am way, way too happy to come down, then I do exactly that, I crash. She says, a little hysterical, \u201cHail a cab!\u201d
\n     My shrink\u2019s receptionist is on the sidewalk pacing. He takes my arm at the elbow and escorts me into the building. Waiting for the elevator I perk up, say, \u201cRelease me!\u201d He refuses, twists my arm behind my back and bends my wrist. In the express elevator, with blood swelling my ankles and feeling a tad light-headed, I say to the receptionist, \u201cDwayne, go fuck yourself.\u201d Fellow passengers occupy the corners, or try. Dwayne, or whatever his name is, presses my wrist harder, twists my shoulder up a micro-millimeter and I experience a version of pleasure appreciated by few and tear-up. I am totally topped off with pleasure, so much am I topped off that I weep. My shrink\u2019s receptionist, a professional and knowing more about my body then I do, pushes and presses and on my tippy-tippy toes, and perhaps to the delight of my fellow passengers I do a little dance. \u201cDwayne,\u201d I squeal, \u201cthis is the first time in I don\u2019t know, that I have felt true buoyancy, don\u2019t stop, please don\u2019t stop; don\u2019t let go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\/<\/span><\/p>\n

\/<\/span>
\nFatso In The Late Afternoon<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

     Mom had gone into the street and hired juveniles, urchins really. In boom times she might come back with three, four or five of them. Until scalded clean it was difficult to determine age or sex. An excellent instructor, given a few hours she could turn those versed in the rudiments of juggling into near-professionals, and if youngsters were physically gifted, though lacking specific knowledge, she could instruct them to perform the basics in a similar amount of time.
\n     While seeking flavor from the innards of a jelly filled doughnut I hear her in the kitchen working with them, instructing, cajoling and offering encouragement. Her voice, though muted by the closed kitchen door, is upbeat, which, I think, must take a lot out of her.
\n     If I am able, I help her roll the Porta-Stage into the living room and then, energy spent, flop back on the couch, shake open the paper and graze the classifieds. Mom, maintaining supernatural cheeriness, props my feet on a pillow so blood won\u2019t pool, adjusts the spot-lights and tells the juveniles in the kitchen to get ready. As soon as she sets the stereo going, I set down the paper. The door flies open and they come bounding out. It\u2019s a sight\u2014all of them decked out in the harlequin costumes she\u2019s sewed for them\u2014yellow and green diamond shapes her signature design. And for the entire time they\u2019re tossing and catching colored balls I can imagine how life\u2014the concept of it, the big picture\u2014to some people at least must appear urgent and pretty darn sweet.<\/p>\n

\/<\/span><\/p>\n

\/<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013<\/p>\n

Michael K. Meyers’s work has appeared in Quick Fiction, SmokeLong, Word Riot, Alice Blue, Eclectica, NANO, Spork, Bound Off, 2River, The 2nd Hand Journal, Chicago Noir, Chelsea, Fiction, The New Yorker,<\/em> and Requited Journal. <\/em>Audio works can be heard in Fringe, 2River, Mad Hatter\u2019s Review, Drunken Boat<\/em>, <\/em>and forthcoming in sound\/text<\/em> <\/em>and Bound Off<\/em>. <\/em>Videos can be viewed on Ninth Letter, apt<\/em> <\/em>and at michaelkmeyers.com. <\/em>He teaches in the graduate writing program at The School of The Art Institute of Chicago.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Staying Up      My masseuse says, \u201cI\u2019ve got you, I\u2019ve got you good, so don\u2019t change the channel.\u201d I tell her I will not, will never do that. While being kneaded and kneaded my imagination takes me to destinations inappropriate for relaxation: a falcon lands on my face, its talons digging in; my brother kicks open […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3472","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-things"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3472","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3472"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3472\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3472"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3472"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3472"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}