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Notes Toward a Monograph Entitled “The Secret World of The Honeymooners: A Study in Sexual Perversion”

by Larry Gaffney

… Ralph lives in a world of sudden, intense pain. He reaches under the icebox to retrieve a hidden Christmas present and his hand is caught in a mousetrap. He falls down the stairs, slips on rock candy Norton…

Polish Fact

A Polish Glimpse of Earth
Anglia -- England
Szkocja -- Scotland
Walia -- Wales
Irlandia -- Ireland
Wielka Brytania -- Great Britain
Zjednoczone Królestwo - United Kingdom
Niemcy -- Germany
Japonia -- Japan
Stany Zjednoczone Ameryki - The United States of America
Francja -- France
Hiszpania -- Spain
Wenezuela -- Venezuela

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Literary Fluster
Monday, January 22, 2007   |    Fiction

My Court-Ordered Apology

by Mike Richardson-Bryan

In compliance with the order of Judge Goodman, I humbly offer the following apologies to those I have wronged.

To the people of Cheyenne, Wyoming, I am sorry for ruining your beloved Frontier Days Parade. I should have known that my unauthorized float—Rootin’ Tootin’ Whores of the Wild, Wild West—would rub some people the wrong way. In my defense, I put a ton of time, effort, and money into that project, and it showed (I was particularly pleased with the fluid rocking and bobbing motions of the animatronics). But hey, when you’re wrong, you’re wrong, and I was wrong. So to everyone who was hurt by my unacceptable behavior, and especially to the people downwind of the parade route who contracted syphilis from the genuine period beddings, I am truly sorry.

To the passengers and crew of Delta flight 1643 from New York to Los Angeles, I am sorry for turning a routine coast-to-coaster into a nail-biting descent into fear. Allow me to stress once more that I am not now, nor have I ever been, a member of al Qaeda, Hamas, Islamic Jihad, Hezbollah, or the Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigade, nor have I ever attended a training camp of any kind (unless you count the summer I spent at self-esteem camp when I was twelve, but all I learned to do there was make beaded wallets and cough-syrup daiquiris). Now, it’s true that I shouted “Death to America” several times, but most of my anger was directed at Ohio, and they know why. I am, at heart, as patriotic as the next American. So to everyone who was hurt by my unacceptable behavior, including and especially that Lebanese guy in 3C who disappeared into F.B.I. custody when we finally touched down and hasn’t been seen or heard from since, I am truly sorry.

To Rector Morris and the congregation of All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Atlanta, Georgia, I am sorry for my inappropriate actions during Easter services. I just thought that if Jesus could turn water into wine, then he would have no trouble turning killer bees into AA batteries (I mean, killer bees are basically free if you know where to look for them, but have you seen the price of batteries lately?), but obviously I was mistaken. And as for leaving all those little old ladies to the mercy of the swarm, hey, I honestly thought that God would save them once he got a good look at what was happening. I mean, they looked so pious, and there were crosses all over the place, but I guess God has his reasons. So to everyone who was hurt by my unacceptable behavior, especially those in attendance who chose that day to wear honey-scented bath products, I am truly sorry.

Finally, please note that I offer no apology whatsoever to the management and staff of the Boston Pizza in Tallahassee, Florida. As Judge Goodman agreed at trial, those assholes had it coming. In fact, as soon as I’m done picking up litter along I-95 in New Jersey as part of an unrelated plea deal, you guys can expect to see me again real soon.

Mike Richardson-Bryan lives in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada with one wife and two dogs. Almost no one is interested in his plan for lasting peace in the Middle East. His work has also appeared on McSweeney's Internet Tendency.