Sweet drawing dude. I like how the hand of the clock turns into the guy's hand. Very witty saying coupled with a highly original and creative cartoon. -Gunnar
If I lived in the Wild West, I'd call my horse "Drunk." Then, when I was leaving the saloon, I'd say "I'm going to get drunk." And if someone said, "you are drunk" I'd shoot them. -Jarod Kintz
The great thing about being in a relaitionship is feeling free and uninhibiated in the bedroom. This is why I always sleep with strange men in my boyfriends bedroom.
Sometimes, when I'm typing, I take a mental step back and watch my fingers tap at the keyboard. I smile as I think "this is what Mozart probably looked like playing the piano, if he only had three fingers." -Jarod Kintz
Nobody's ever robbed a bank naked. I suppose they could identify the smallest "member" of my gang. So maybe I'll just rob a strip club naked. Maybe I'll get some tips, and the customers won't tip off the cops. -jarod Kintz
The picture was black and white, but it looked green with life. I noticed her smile first, and I could almost smell the coffee brewing, that's how steamy and refreshing it was. I liked the way you leaned against the oak tree, as if it were a loved one. The curves of your body were as graceful as an eagle in flight. It's because I saw you, and came to know you, that I love you. -Jarod Kintz
He sat in the corner, by the lamp. His computer was off, and his books were piled high like pankaces in a buffet of information. But he left his mental fork in the dishwasher called class, yet his brow was furrowed. Little did I know that he wasn't thinking of new ideas, but of how to best capture a moment in a jar. And if you could, how much could you sell it for on ebay? -Jarod Kintz
The rain slicked silently down the window, as I sat and stared while listening to the thunder, and I held her hand as she held her gaze, eyes wide with wonder.
Deep within the shadows of solitude it watched me like a murky mist, as it seemingly floated through the house like the smell of salmon at three in the morning. Although I didn't see it, I felt my flesh grow cold as the hairs on my neck rose like a thousand people rising in a standing ovation And as I krept along, the floor boards creaked like an old fisherman's back, and its breathing was as heavy as a gravestone. Then from out from the balcony I heard a loud voice bellow what sounded like an epitaph. And as my ears strained, I watched the walls shake like the stomach contractions of my nervous laugh. My lips grew taut and my belt got as tight as my knees, and both began to buckle. And to this day if I sit on the couch, I can still feel the sofa chuckle.
My heart was kicking like a horse that was shoved in the trunk of a Mercedes, which is how I arrived here in Miami last tuesday. This giant man who is now in my face, whose name is Vladimir, is about as soft as a pillow stuffed with razors. He's been screaming in strings of Russian with beads of English that I have offended the orginization. He says that he wants to duel, and he extends his arm with a Sig Sauer handgun for me to take and then step back ten paces. He must be a fan of the outlaw cowboy, but I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of Wrigley and say, "live by the gum, die by the gum." and offer him a piece. When he refuses I scold him saying it's unAmerican to reject a piece of gum. So I snatch the handgun and pop off three quick shots to his face and feel my mouth water with flavor as I chew my mint gum and I saunter out of the abandoned warehouse.
Like a mouse stuffed between two mattresses, I feel smothered. My block of cheese of a book is in a can waiting to be spread over Ritz crackers, and eaten by these voluminous sloths of the literary community. While they step all over the grapes of my plot and wine over my character's repressed sexual tension I want to spit in their faces like an unsheathed penis in a thirteenth century Greek Orthodox orgy. But I smile and fold away into my wrinkled mind like a collared shirt crammed in a suitcase the airoport has reported as lost. Then this nerdy little balding critic with the huge grandmother glasses asks me a bizarre question about my protagonist's metasexual orientation. I quickly think how I wouldn't hit a man with glasses, I would probably hit him with a wine bottle. But I put a cork on my anger long enough to answer his silly question as I stuff a piece of cheese sandwiched between two crackers in my mouth.
His fingers swirled around in the paint like a blue tornado thrashed with yellow. He dabbed her red panties in the forest green oil in his paint by underwear series. The canvas, once white like briefs, now a menage-a-trois of color. He used to paint with his hair, but he is bald, so the canvas was blank. His clientele found it hard toupee for such pieces.
We don't like to feed him, he just sits in the corner and growls. His hair is matted and the way he scatches we're sure he has either flees or crabs. But we keep him around because that's what family is for, right? We love you Dad. -Jarod Kintz
Skip He's a little slow, but he can still chase a stick with the best of them. He's got brown hair, the same as I do, and he is my best friend. He likes to sleep in my dirty clothes, and urinate on the floor when I don't take him for a walk in the park. He's taught me a lot about myself, and what it means to eat off a bowl on the floor, or drink from a filthy toilet. I don't know what I'd do without you, Dad. I love you. -Jarod Kintz
so I snatch the handgun and pop off three quick shots to his face and feel my mouth water with flavor as I chew my mint gum and I saunter out of the abandoned warehouse, when over my shoulder I hear, “Jarod, we’re not paying you to stand around—the dead would die to have a job like yours—so take the Hearse and go pick up the pizza we ordered, we’re gonna be here all night. Oh, and we’ll be around back in the embalming barracks.” Yes Sir, I say as I imagine stuffing his gluttonous body in a tiny pine box, or the trunk of a Mercedes. -Jarod Kintz
Sitting in my seat, my knuckles clench my seatbelt as the obese woman to my left chatters about her children in Ohio. But I am not listening, I’m frowning as I fold away into my wrinkled mind like a collared shirt crammed in a suitcase the airport has reported as lost. “Do you have a girlfriend? A handsome boy such as yourself should have one,” she says as I look up. I have several, I respond, one for every city I do business In. At work they call me Errol Kintz. In like Kintz, as my Colleagues continually joke— You know, the old saying, in like Flynn, and I start to explain but the look in her eyes is as vacant as the cheap motel I stayed in last night, so I stop my sentence short, just like I stopped short this trip, and I recline my seat back and adjust my pillow just like I do at home with my fiancé, Amy, who calls me a blanket thief and also a dog because every night I somehow manage to drool on the pillow—her’s, not mine. My eyelids are twitching like my legs as I stretch them out. She was supposed to be with me on this trip, but she ran into an old boyfriend on the way home from work the other day, and the damage to her car is extensive, but the doctors say she should recover, but that she may never walk the same again. They also say that she should wake up from her coma anytime, so I’m flying back so I can stay with her in the hospital and hold her hand as I whisper our memories in her ear and tell her that she is the only one for me, and that she better wake up or I’ll hop in the hospital bed with her and not only will I drool all over her and steal her blankets, but I’ll eat all the Jell-O the nurses bring. Then the captain’s voice comes over the speaker and snaps me awake, and I see that my head has been resting on the woman’s shoulder, and there is a puddle of drool that she just let roll down her sleeve rather than waking me, and my hands are locked onto her’s like a little boy locks onto a mother’s leg, but she just held them softly as I trembled like a tiny child. -Jarod Kintz
While I vacationed in Atlantis I played golf with a praying mantis, I caught some cards with Bugsy Siegal, And went on a hot date with a sheagle— Jen’s dad’s a shark, her mother’s an eagle, And a body that’s busting, super regal.
Out to dinner, our server was Jesus, He was always quick with the manna And never failed to please us. We asked for water that he turned to wine, I ordered the pork, but he counseled, No swine! My chalice was heavy, and I felt so frail ‘til he told me all the burdens of the Grail. He brought the bill and mentioned gratuity, Saying the ten percent is split among all three of me.
Later on I strolled on the beach with Plato, We talked religion, philosophy, and of NATO When over the waves there came a bright light, And Plato went scrambling into the night The beam had a pull like a giant horse With flashes of light like Samuel B. Morse
When I awoke I lay flat on a cold table My asshole felt as large as a horse stable, And like an actor in an archaic Sci-Fi flick, They rubbed and probed all over my… Body, and I saw a nurse dressed in all white, Who said I’m the sole survivor of the flight The captain decapitated, the cockpit crushed With God’s paint and hand I must have been brushed
My release came next morning, at seven o’clock So I drove to the port and sat on the dock When up from the water a fish froze in flight Then beat its wings and came into sight It is gray like a shark and feathers of an eagle Whatever it is, it’s obviously no seagull. I called out to Jen, and we embraced, The world became a sketch that we erased, And I was stiff as a pencil as I hopped on her back But my ego was large like the frame of Shaq, Sweating we said this Miami Heat is abysmal, So we were off to Seattle where the weather is quite dismal. -Jarod Kintz
Tall and lanky, His name was Art, And his personality Was as abstract As his features, Well, mostly his nose, With an anatomy that Only Picasso Knows— I met him one night While drinking in a bar, Loud and edgy Were his fingers, And his clothes Spoke Too much, So said that I’d like To take Him Out to lunch The next day, But when we got in my van I turned my head As I slowly said “I’ve changed the plan,” And we went To a museum, Where I snuck In a hammer, Then I Hung Him on the wall, Criticized him and Left in such a flurry That it left my Mind fluttered And blurry like A Van Gogh, And my van Went nearly eighty That day, As I sped away With a warped smile— In true Picasso style. -Jarod Kintz
“You are such a loser! You don’t give a damn about anybody but yourself,” Amy says as I try to keep eye contact. Her soft blue eyes get really glazed over and hard when she gets upset like this. “Come to think of it, I don’t think you even care about your own life, or you would actually do something with it. You won’t get rich off potential.” “I won’t,” I say as my eyes widen. “But the pamphlet I got last week says that’s all you need is talent. The government will take care of the rest, they said.” “You are such an ass. Do you talk to your sweet grandma like this?” She asks as the breeze whisps her brown hair around. “She asked you to move in rent free to take care of her basic needs. You don’t lift a finger around her house. For the last several years I’ve watched you go down. Your early twenties went by with a huge rush of nothingess, which is what you’ve become.” “I’ve done some things,” I protest trying to think of what I actually have done. “Like what?” she waves her arms emphatically. “Senior year of high school you were being recruited by MIT for crying out loud. MIT! And what did you do? You signed up for the Army only to get kicked out three months later for planting drugs in an officers jacket.” “He was a dick,” I shrug as I put my hands in my pockets. “News Flash, They’re paid to be dicks. That’s how they save your worthless life in action. And since then you’ve blown an internship to NASA, who by the way, offered to pay your way through Embry Riddel University. And yesterday you managed to get fired from your sales job at Dillards. Not for any reason other than you couldn’t wake up on time to get there!” “They shouldn’t have scheduled me so early,” I say as I pull my hand out of my pocket to massage my neck. “Since when is three in the afternoon early?” She says as she stomps her foot. “Oh, I guess it is when you stay up all night watching TV and bullshitting online.” “Ok fine, I did get fired for being a slacker. And I blew several opportunities right out of high school. But I am working on achieving greatness now, Amy. I am close to getting a world record.” “A world record?” She stammers as her eyes clench and wrinkle. “Stacking bar stools, or bowling a perfect score with your left foot will not make the kind of money you could with your brain, Ora. You are the smartest guy I know. I can’t wait around and watch you waste your life away. I didn’t want to tell you earlier, but I got accepted into Harvard for grad school. I’ll be leaving in several weeks.” My knees feel a little shaky. “Harvard? But that’s a thousand miles away from here.” “A thousand miles away from here and from you,” she says. “I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other now. I love you Ora, but you need to work out your life for yourself. I can’t force you to be successful if you don’t want to.” She says as she turns around and walks toward her car. As she opens the door she turns around and says, “I want the best for you. I won’t forget all you’ve taught me, or the fun we’ve had. But I can’t let you drag me down anymore. And you can’t let you drag yourself down either,” and she gets in and drives off.
I can't find my wallet, you can't find the keys, you say the keys are in my pants, and I say so is my wallet. I think my pants are packed away in your luggage, beneath my bags in your trunk, which we'll have to repack anyway, so we'll have room to fit Grandma. And where is Grandma's dress? It's probably in Grandpa's coffin, sealed tighter than his lips, my wallet now, and the trunk. -Jarod Kintz
If your life is your penis, then you probably put your life in your hands nearly every day. Or you put your life in someone else’s mouth or some other bodily crevice. Such is the life of Matt. Every other day he calls me to tell me who he had sex with the night before, or whom he ran in to at the bar. And he makes me come over once a week to look at his new pictures. I’m headed over there now to look at last week’s photos. I go over there every week because he makes me feel better about myself. Not that I’m much better, I just like to think I am. So I am pulling into his apartment complex now and I see he is already waiting like a little puppy that wants to be let out. “What’s new with you,” I say as I get out of my truck. “Not a whole lot,” he says as he tokes on a joint. Right now his eyes look like egg rolls—folded over and fried—and he reeks of smoke. “I hope you don’t mind that I am out here smoking,” he says even though I don’t think he would stop even if I did mind. “Not at all, you know, even the early Christians got stoned,” I say as I smile. “Is that right?” He asks before he catches on and starts to laugh. “Same old Jarod, we missed you at the pub last night. I met this hot older woman there. Total nymph. You should have heard the crazy shit that came out of this broad’s mouth. Reminded me of some shit you’d say.” “Oh yeah,” I cock my head to the side and grin. “Does she have a daughter? Or if she’s wealthy, I’ll even take a son.” “Ha, I didn’t ask. We didn’t do much talking,” he says as he nudges me in the ribs. But you should have seen the blue eyes on her. Rasputin would have been envious.” He takes me inside and scrolls through his digital camera showing me all his erotic pictures. “Where is the chick from last night?” I ask as I am listening to his narrative of all the girls. “She’s not on here yet, but soon enough. Hey, if you want to meet her, we can double up. Bring that new girl your dating, what’s her name?” “Her name’s Riley. Yeah, tonight sounds good. I’ll ask her. I’m sure she’ll want to meet your latest conquest.” “And if not, you should stop by later on and just meet her by yourself. I haven’t told her about you yet, but I think you two have the same sense of humor.” “Ok cool, I’ll just give you a call later on. Right now I have to rush on over for a meeting.” “Ok, just give me a call and let me know,” he says as he extends his hand for me to shake. “Oh, I haven’t heard from Ora lately, what’s he been up to?” “Well, his girlfriend left him and moved to Boston, and our Grandma had a heart attack right in front of him.” “Rough week, man.” He says. “Give me a call tonight.”
I’m now on my way to see Dr. Johnson, my therapist. This has been a hard week for me with my Grandma having to go to the hospital. I pull in to my usual spot and take a moment to relax before going in. Sometimes I like to just stop and look up at the clouds. It helps me to realize that a slow life and a fast life both end up in the same place.It’s three o’clock. I push the door to her office open. “Hello Jarod,” Dr. Johnson says as I take a seat on the corner couch. “How was your weak?” “It was pretty shitty actually. My Grandma almost died early this week.” “You want to talk about it?” She asks. “No I kind of just want to sit here in silence watching my dollars drain away.” I say as I massage my temples with my fingers. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap at you.” I say as I pull out the pen from my pocket and a piece of paper. “Hold on just one sec. I just thought of something.” On my paper I am scribbling the following: A banker is a man who will lend you the short sleeve shirt off his back, and demand a long sleeve one in return. After I am done writing I look back up. “I’m sorry,” and I turn my head to the side. “I didn’t say anything, I was just waiting for you to finish writing. I hope it was good,” she says. “Half of what I write is garbage, but if I don’t write it down it decomposes in my head,” I say before pulling out my little sheet of paper and scribbling that down too. “You know, I am not sure I know how to handle death. I can barely handle life right now. I’m just afraid for my Grandma, that’s all. I think courage and fear are like homosexual lovers. Courage always wants to wear the dress, but sometimes you’ve just got to say, No Bitch! You’re wearing the pants tonight.” “So which is your grandma wearing, the pants or the dress?” “She’s definitely wearing the pants. Grandpa took all her dresses before he skipped town on her.” “You say you don’t think you can handle life very well. I think that’s not true. I think you possess a certain sensitivity that you try to hide from everyone, including yourself.” “I think people try too hard to figure out who they are. If you have to dig to find yourself, you are probably dead,” I say as I quickly pull out my piece of paper again. “I’m really popping them off this afternoon.” “I think you should go out, get your mind off things. Go have crazy monkey sex with the first random girl you see. That will really get your mind working in another direction,” she says as she glances at the clock. I take a pause before responding. “Well, my penis’ name is Pride. And Pride is something every woman should be filled with. But I think it would make me feel better if I got some good writing or drawing in. I need to be productive when I am depressed; it’s the only thing that snaps me out of it. That and a good Mariachi band.” “For some people, life is about faith. I’ll bet your grandma has a lot of faith.” “She sure does. An enviable amount. And I think that makes her a powerful person. Sometimes I wish there were a pill for faith that everyone could take. It would help them believe in something greater, and help me believe in people. It would have to be a little faith pill, because too much might cause people to gag and throw up.” “So she’s religious then?” she asks. “Oh yeah. She goes to Church every Sunday. Everyone has his or her own personal Gods. For some people it’s money, for other’s it is celebrities,” I say as I am waving my arms in a preachy manner. “Some people think nature is their God. I’d like to apologize to all those people for pissing on their religion.” “Some people think religion is the crutch of society.” “If religion is the crutch, society is the broken foot,” I say with a sneer. “Anyways, I don’t like talking about religion or politics with anyone except drunk strangers at a bar.” I glance up at the brushed nickel clock and see that it is 3:57. “Well that about does it for this week, Doc. I’ve got to run, a buddy wanted me to come over tonight and I still have to squeeze in my daily nap.” “Until then I want you to try to relax a little bit. Your life is not that stressful, and now that your Grandma is ok, I want you to go just a little bit wild.” She says as she sets down her notebook on her desk. I can’t quite make out what she has drawn in it this week. From our recent conversation, it’s probably a Greek Orthodox orgy with Benjamin Franklin in the center, naked from the waist down, and holding a kite with a key attached, and with God’s giant penis coming down from the clouds shooting a lightning bolt out of his urethra. What I wouldn’t give to flip through that notebook of her’s. “I can do wild, Doc” I say as I open her door.
As I am driving home I get a call from Matt telling me to show up at his place around 8:30. That’s perfect. It gives me just enough time to get in some writing before a three-hour nap. Along the way home I stop and pick up a snack from Publix.
On my way over to Matt’s house I stop back by Publix and pick up a bottle of wine. I’ve made two separate stops here today. My efficiency would make any German engineer shutter with fury. I pick up my phone to call Matt and tell him that Riley won’t be able to make it, but that I should be on time. He tells me that Nancy is already there, so whenever I get there is fine. As I am leaving Publix I take another pause at my truck door and take a panoramic view of the setting sky. The clouds are wisps of pink and violet, and the blue is a peaceful cerulean that really ties the softer shades together. As I am looking at this beautiful sky my mind wanders to my therapy session with Dr. Johnson this afternoon. How random was her advice on getting laid? Maybe I’ve stumbled on some deep sexual frustration of hers. Maybe she should talk for one session and I’ll just sit back and doodle. Maybe I should stop analyzing her and worry about my own set of problems.
As I am pulling in to Matt’s apartment I look for my usual spot, but it is taken by a familiar car. It’s too expensive for this apartment. It stands out like an NBA player in a dress in a Buddhist monastery. I park and walk around to Matt’s front door. As I am about to knock the door cracks open and I hear a female voice say, “I’m just going to run out to my car for a second. I forgot something.” When the door fully opens my jaw drops slightly and I rock back and forth a little on my feet as if rocked by a solid punch to my chin. “Dr. Johnson? What are you doing here?” Her face blushes as she chokes on her words a bit. “So you’re the Jarod Matt was talking about?” Then she starts to laugh a bit as she compulsively massages her hands. “And you’re the new woman in Matt’s life?” My brow furrows as I struggle to take this all in like any girl working with John Holmes. “Isn’t life funny?” She asks as she brushes past me. “I’ve got to go to my car to get something.” “Life is very funny,” I say in a half whisper as I walk in the door. Matt is on the couch and he mutes the TV when he sees me. He stands up and comes over to shake my hand, His expression changes to one of confusion as he sees the ghostly look on my face. “What’s the matter, man?” he asks. “Did you meet Nancy on her way to the car?” “I saw Nancy on the way to her car, but I didn’t meet her there.” I say as I walk over and plop on his black leather sofa. “So you two know each other then?” He asks. “I’ll wait for her to come back in before I tell you.” And as I am saying this she walks back in carrying a bottle of white wine. Matt turns to her and her eyes dart to each of us. He opens his mouth several times before finally saying, “someone want to tell me what’s going on here?” “I will,” she speaks up. “I’ve known Jarod for a while now.” “You have!” Matt says slowly. “In what way have you known him?” And he instinctively touches his crotch. “He’s been my patient for several months now.” I finally feel composed enough to speak. “Nancy, knowing what kind of girls Matt usually dates, and from your off the wall sexual comments this afternoon when I was not even thinking about sex, I think our professional relationship has changed.” Matt’s eyes harden a little. “What sexual comments? Were you hitting on my best friend?” He asks. I jump to her defense, “No, not at all. Her random comments, coupled with what you told me briefly about her lead me to question my therapy sessions.” “You’re not going to let this get in the way of ourproffesional relationship, are you? She asks. “To be honest Dr. Johnson, um, Nancy, I never really felt I needed therapy. I just enjoyed being compelled to work out my thoughts orally rather than internally.” “I don’t know what you must be thinking of me right now—“ “I’m not thinking anything about your personality, I’m only thinking about our relationship in your office. And I don’t see how it can continue the same way now.” “I feel horrible now,” she says and she goes to sit on the edge of the sofa and she tucks her hand over her eyes to wipe away some tears. Seeing this makes me feel a little guilty. I’m not angry, just a little surprised. “Nancy, I always liked our banter back and forth. And from what I see now the situation has changed for the better. Now I don’t have to pay to test out my one-liners on you.” She looks up for a second. “So you don’t think I am a horrible person?” “Not at all. I think this has been a fortuitous encounter tonight. One that calls for a little white wine. Nancy, I believe I saw you bring some in,” I say as I nod my head over to the coffee table where she set it down. Matt finally comes to the moment, “hell yeah it calls for some wine.” And he rushes to the kitchen to grab some glasses. “I’ll take a clean one, asshole,” I yell after him. “You’ll get what I serve you, jackass,” he hollers back from the kitchen. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to stop coming to our sessions now,” she says. “I really look forward to out brief hour together.” “I was at the end of them anyways. There’s only one direction in life, and that’s forward. This is just another moving on moment, nothing more, nothing less.” Matt is now coming out of the kitchen with three sparkling wine glasses. “Freshly scrubbed for you, sir,” he says as I go to take a glass. “Not the glass, my balls,” he says and we all start laughing.
Two hours later and several wine glasses later I get up to leave. “Nancy, this has been without a doubt my greatest session yet. It was a little awkward at first, but definitely a situation that worked out best for both of us.” As I closed the door I stand teetering on the step wondering if I should go back in and ask what she was doodling in her notebook today. Then I smile and shake my head as I pull out my keys and walk to my truck. Some things are best left to my imagination. -Jarod Kintz
Allen likes to smoke Bud after work, so I call him Cheech, and he calls me Dangerfield, with my large eyes, his Eyes are like eggrolls— Folded over and fried and Getting smaller with each toke, Hell, if he keeps asking me I just might have to hit the Joint, but between him, Jason, and Ken, I don’t know how much is Left, it’s just a roach, nothing More, and what they want Now is to eat, but nothing’s Open at this time of night—not even Papa John’s, so I guess Quizno’s definitely out of the question. Randy works there and every So often he hooks us up, but not Today since he’s gone to Uruguay on both business and Vacation, and later next Week he’s going to the winter X—Games that are held every Year—it represents the Zenith of extreme sporting events.
James is sprawled out on the couch watching TV as I come out of the bedroom putting on my earrings. He barely even glances up to notice my sexy black dress. “Did you get paid today?” I ask as I shove my cell phone into my purse. “Yep,” James replies without altering his stare away from the TV. “So you’re taking me out to dinner tonight, right? How much money do you have?” I ask as I walk over to the sofa and sit on the edge. “I have more money than Jesus,” he says as he turned to look at her. The sun is setting, and I am squinting into the sun that shines in through the window. My eyes are like the slits in blinds as I smile and say, “So it’s fast food then?” He turns back toward the TV before responding, “Only if you get a water, babe.” I let out a wild laugh into the room. “I’ll get a water, if you’re gonna walk on it for me, oh son of the sofa God.” He turns the volume on the TV up. “What is it with you?” I ask. “It’s like every time I want to go out or do something, all you want to do is sit your lazy ass here on the sofa watching TV.” “I don’t always watch TV,” he turns to look at her. “Oh I’m sorry. I forgot that some nights you are glued to the computer talking to god knows who or what.” I start to raise my voice to a shrill. “It’s like you are in a relationship with myspace.com or Spike TV.” “God damn it, Riley. Why is it you do this to me every night?” he asks. “I think I am going for a drive,” he says as he gets up and turns off the TV. He’s putting on his shoes near the front door when I turn to look at him. “I know about the other woman.” He doesn’t look up. “What are you blathering about now?” “Denise at work told me you have been sleeping with her best friend.” I say as my face begins to grow hot and red. “I found out yesterday, but I thought she must have been mistaken.” “I don’t know a Denise,” he says. “And I certainly don’t know what you are talking about.” “Oh really James.” I say as the tears start flowing hard now. “Then tell me why we haven’t slept together in nearly a month? “ “That’s it,” he says with an elevated voice. “I don’t have to take this shit. I’m going to stay with my brother.” He rushes off into the bedroom to pack his duffel bag full of clothes. I am visibly shaking now as I tuck myself in to a ball on the sofa. I try to speak up as he walks out of the door but the only audible sound that I can emit are gasps and sobs from my crying.
James hasn’t come home in two weeks, and I feel great. I packed up what little belongings he had and crammed them in a box without regard to their damage condition. Now it’s just me. This morning I felt like a coffee, so here I am at Starbucks. I just got done putting lots of cream and sugar in my coffee before choosing a seat near the window so I could watch the morning traffic when this haggard looking guy walks in the door. He’s pretty tall, several inches over six feet if I were to guess. His shirt is all wrinkled, and judging from his red, puffy eyes, I’d say he’s been up all night. His hair is sloppy, but lots of well-kept, well-rested men have that hairstyle today. I don’t know why, but I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s good looking yes, but not that handsome. It’s something else. Maybe it’s the look in his eye. He’s got a quiet desperation in them coupled with a certain intensity that seems to mirror his thoughts, which appear to be quick as his eyes dart around rapidly. He walks up to the counter and I strain to hear his voice. “I’ll take a large coffee,” he says. “Oh wait, you guys have the imported size names I forgot. I always get confused. Is the Venti large, as it sounds, or small, as I think it is? Large is small here, that’s cool. I’ll just get a large mild coffee with room for cream and sugar.” He rambles and turns his neck around and checks for a place to sit down. There’s only one open seat left in the room and my purse is on it. I turn to look away from him and out the window as I slowly grab my purse and lift it to my lap as I open it and shuffle things around noisily in there. I pull out my phone and flip it open and start pushing the down scroll button. Although nobody’s called me since yesterday, from my rapid thumb movements you would think I was Paris Hilton. As I am still scrolling through my phone I see a shadow come over me. I look up and see him standing right next to me turning his head from left to right looking all over the room as he is muttering, “looking for a chair. Anywhere I could sit down and drink my expensive imported coffee would be terrific,” and then he looks down at me as his eyes go wide with comedic shock. “Oh, hello. Is that chair taken?” I giggle a little. “No, feel free.” “Why thank you,” he says as he moves around me to sit down. “Oops, I almost forgot the cream and sugar.” And he gets up with a jolt and speed walks over to the sugar counter. He comes back shortly and sees me watching him. “I’m Jarod,” he says as he holds out a large hand for me to shake. “Riley,” I say as he gives my hand a firm, but not forceful squeeze. Lifting up my coffee I keep talking. “Gotta jump start my mornings.” He smiles. “Coffee, the breakfast of champions. I need it because I have been up for nearly two days now.” I am smiling as I watch his mannerisms. He has this compulsive hand twitch, and he rolls his hand back and forth between his pinky and thumb as if to a rhythm in his head. “That’s a curious thing you do with your fingers,” I say. “Fingers are a curious thing to me,” he says. “How so?” I ask. “Well, I’m allergic to them,” he says. “So I have to eat foods like pizza with my feet.” I start laughing. “I’d hate to see you eat on the run,” I say as we both start laughing. “Have we met before?” He asks. “I think I would remember a shirt like yours,” I say. “It’s more wrinkled than my that guy’s face over there,” I say nodding to a man who must be Moses’ oldest son. “Snicker all you want,” he says. “But the clothes don’t make the man, the man makes the clothes. Or sometimes little children do.” “That’s wrong,” I say as I giggle a little. “I have a thing about clothes. I find it very uncomfortable folding clothes, especially when I’m wearing them.” He says very seriously. I laugh and we keep talking for over an hour. We talked about everything from religion to politics to sex. He had some interesting things to say on the subject of sex. “In life there is no direction, I have to find my own compass,” he said. “I just try not to use my penis as the guiding needle.” “So you practice abstinence then?” I asked. “Not at all. I just practice what I call sexual economics.” “Oh yeah,” I said. “And what is that exactly?” “It’s very simple. If you demand it, I won’t supply it.” “So you don’t like having sex all that much?” “Not at all,” he said. “Sex is great with anybody, so long as it’s me. I think sex is like investing. Sometimes it takes little or no money, just a lot of haggling.” “Haggling!” I said. “Well that’s romantic. Would you say that you are a superficial person?” “I wouldn’t say I’m superficial, just averagely ficial.” He said. “What about love and sex?” I asked. “Hmmm. That’s a good question,” He said as his brow furrowed for several seconds. “I think sex is the stairs, while love is the railing. One is good exorcize and will take you to a higher place, while the other gives you something to hold on to.” “Oh that’s sweet. I also think love gives you something to hold on to.” “Oh, I was thinking that was the sex part. Literally something to hold on to.” And we started laughing. “I guess that makes love good exorcize because it’s hard, “ I said as I glanced at my watch to check the time. “You have to go?” He asked. “Unfortunately I do.” “Well, can I get your number ad continue our conversation over dinner tonight?” He asked as he pulled out his cell phone. I look at him for a second before saying yes. After he put my number in his phone he told me to be ready by eight, and to dress nice. He said he would take me to Ruth’s Chris tonight. He takes down my address and I leave to go to work.
It’s now 8:02 and he hasn’t called yet. I am wearing my sexy black dress because it fits nice on my body and makes me look more proportional. I am standing in front of my mirror swiveling, checking out my ass from different views when I hear a knock at the front door. I pause for a second before slowly walking to get it. “Sorry I am late,” he says as he extends flowers.” I know, cliché, right? But I didn’t have time after work to think about something more memorable to get you.” “That’s ok, they’re beautiful,” I say. “And so are you, I must say.” “A smooth talker, are we? Is this the beginning of your haggling process?” I ask as I laugh. “First the flowers, then Ruth’s Chris, then me for desert?” “I could go for that, yes,” he says with a smile as he ushers me out of the door. “You look great by the way,” I say. “You think so?” He says. “After my shower I tried on several pairs of pants before settling on these black ones. I was going to wear my magic pants. I always wear those out to the club. They bring me luck with the ladies. I bought them from some emperor guy. Most people can’t see them.” “If you wore those, I might be overwelmingly tempted to get in your pants.” “Like I said, they’re magical like that,” he says as he waves his arm as if he has an invisible wand. “My ex-girlfriend was always trying to get into my magic pants, especially when my friends were wearing them.” “Ooh, that doesn’t sound too magic,” I say. “Our relationship wasn’t exactly a fairy tale,” he says with a shrug as he opens my car door.
Dinner was great, and the conversation was even better. But for some reason all I can think about is James. Not in the sense that I wish he were Jarod, but more the fact that I wish he could see me having such a great time. We are on the way home and the whole time we are chatting before he reaches across the center console to hold my hand. I grab his hand as I turn my head to hide my smile. We pull into my apartment and I turn to look at him. “Do you want to come in for some desert,” I say. His cheeks lift as he gives me a big smile. “That’s got to be the best question I’ve heard all day.”
The sun is shining in through my blinds as I roll over and feel an empty pillow. I sit up wondering where he went. I see a note sitting on my nightstand. I pick it up and immediately wipe the sleep out of my eyes so I can read it. It looks like a five year old wrote it. I can’t read it at all. Then I realize that he wrote the note backwards. I have to either hold it up to a mirror, or flip it over and read it in the light. So I turn it over and hold it up against the morning sun. It says: Good morning gorgeous. I had a great time last night—twice. And dinner was fun too. I had to work early this morning at the airport, but I was hoping we could catch a movie later on tonight. Give me a call after four. ~Jarod
I am smiling as I carefully set the note inside my diary I keep in my nightstand. As I am flipping through my diary to see where to put the note, my phone rings. I look at the caller ID and see that James is calling. I let it go to voicemail and keep looking at my diary. The phone starts ringing again, so I pick up. “What do you want James?”
He is eating pizza with his feet as a bloody towel lays on the floor. We are in the Middle East. This man, Khalid, has two fish for hands, (salmon, I think) or did. He is allergic to fish, that's why I had to peel off his filthy socks like the skin of a rotton avocado, so he could eat. This morning he was caught stealing gasoline (1,000 barrels, I think) and they cut off his right hand, but we scidaddled before they could sever his left hand. I don't think I'll ever eat fish again, at least not raw fish. We have to go soon, the government officials are waiting for us like a wet bear upstream poised and ready to snatch up a fish. It will be hard not to laugh as we are sprinting, watching Khalid "eat on the run." -Jarod Kintz
A cell phone with 17 missed calls, a half-torn movie ticket from The Pink Panther, a wallet with two Magnum condoms and one dollar, a broken, plastic four-leaf clover, a blue ballpoint pen, a suicide note written on the back of a postcard from St. Augustine and signed, "Your Loving Son." -Jarod Kintz
Year round I work as hard as a cat, so when I go on vacation I don't want to go to a litter box city. I avoid large clumps of shitty people that surround cities like Detroit and Atlanta. -Jarod Kintz
I showed up for a first date last week wearing the girl's panties. she asked me why I was wearing her panties and I said they were more comfortable, plus I didn't feel the pressure to try to sleep with her because I have already been in her pantiess. -Jarod Kintz
I once asked a wise old man where I could find knowledge. He pulled down his pants, bent over and said, "In here, Boy. Reach inside and pull it out." So I rolled up my sleeves and stuck my hand in his anal cavity and groped around for what felt like eternity, but was in fact a little over an hour. Finaly, I felt a book as thick as a dictionary. I pulled it out and asked if this was the book of knowledge. He slowly shook his head and said, "No Boy, this is my little black book, or was, now it's rather brown. I keep it there so my wife doesn't find it." My face contorted. I reeked of dissapointment. Dissapointment and human feces. A part of me was left deep inside of his ass that day, and I haven't been back since to find it. -Jarod Kintz
To conserve gas, I walk a lot. I park in the farthest spot away from the store. It might not sound like much, but if everyone in America started doing that I could get the best parking spaces. -Jarod Kintz
I'm all about efficiency. Why have two jobs, when I could have one? Why pay for two cars when I could just steal a bike. And why have two girlfriends when I only have one penis? -Jarod Kintz
Today, we an fit all the world's knowledge in a tiny computer chip that's smaller than my penis. But why can't I fit a tenth of that knowledge in my brain, which is a thousand times larger? I guess I've got dick for brains. Maybe that's why I have the apetite of a woman. -Jarod Kintz
I had a trophy wife once, but she died on the mantle where I kept her. I won her at the Special Olympics wherre I placed third out of two retards. -Jarod Kintz
When someone says, "do I know you," and you met them only once. "I can understand why you don't remember me, those Roofies were pretty strong...don't worry, I pulled out." -Jarod Kintz
Nothing is better than a pretty woman standing next to you, except perhaps for two pretty women who taste like oranges, and each with a shot glass full of vodka in both hands. -Jarod Kintz
friends are like furniture. They are meant to be sat on, not stuffed in your attic, unless they are antiques, then they should be sent to the retirement home, because any antique dealer will tell you, there is no value in an ancient piece of furniture that is saturated with shit. -Jarod Kintz
A lot of people in the world are starving in the world, and here in America, our septic tanks are overflowing. I don't understand why we just don't give a shit tank or two? -Jarod Kintz
Love is a high-speed internet connection. Nothing is faster, except for the quickness your husband leaves you for California over what he will soon find out is a fifty-year-old man posing as an eighteen-year-old stripper. -Jarod Kintz
Love is a candy bar filled with nuts. A lot of these nuts you thought you liked, but ultimately you find it was just the aphridisiac that you were attracted to. -Jarod Kintz
Love doesn't find you, you have to find it. Here's where to look. 1111 High Rd. Apt. C 105 Tallahassee, Fl 32304. If you want the phone number, just send me an email first. And before showing up, let me know so I can clean the place up a bit first. -Jarod Kintz
She asked me what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking anything; I was so happy I had a thousand symphonies playing in my head and I had to rearrange my thoughts just to accompany them so they could all fit. -Jarod Kintz
My brother used to live in the jungles of Idaho. He grew potatoes made out of coconuts. They grew in trees on the beach in Missouri where we used to live when we lived in Texas. It's fun to make French Fries out of coconuts made out of cheese (which is what he grows now). Until they get moldy and then you make sombreros out of them and sell them to the migrant farm workers. There are hundreds of them. I wish I knew where they lived. I should have thought to get their license plate number.I've been to the parking lot you are talking about. I know because I wrote "I've been to this parking lot" in spray paint when me and the family were there on vacation from the family. We have a large family that we keep in a rather small box made of cheese that we keep refrigerated. My brother made it for us out of coconuts that had migrated to Idaho. -Jarod Kintz
I've lived in Fl for almost 16 years now. I had to keep moving for a while because the police were loking for me. But I haven't brutally murdered anyone in months. Being a psychopath just wasn't as glorious of a lifestyle as promised in the brochure. -Jarod Kintz
There are always three doors to take in life. I always try to pick tho one with that's made of glass. Second best is the one with the doorbell. The one I never take is the doggy door with the sign above it that says Beware of Dog. -Jarod Kintz
People ask me if I'm a glass half-empty, or a glass half-full kind of guy. I tell them that if the glasses are filled with Vodka than my nature is one of duality, and I will take both glasses. -Jarod Kintz
451 Comments:
How true! Boyfriends are so useless! I have more intellectual conversations with my dog, Lenny.
What a true statement. I like the drawing. It is very different.
Samantha
Effin Awesom !
Sweet drawing dude. I like how the hand of the clock turns into the guy's hand. Very witty saying coupled with a highly original and creative cartoon.
-Gunnar
go lick an ass
very different.
Boyfriends can grasp some things,but it's never what women want them to grasp and usually never long enough!
Rachael
Denne å tegne får meg som vekket. Om Deres lete etter en nordic mann her min email adresse
thomas.lorentzen@fafo.no
Not my boyfriend. He can't stop grasping at my breasts.
Did you mean to say that boyfriends have two heads and still can't grasp anything....because that makes sense also.
Niggelsby
Great drawing. I love the hands. I love hands alot.
These lines flow so smooth and elegantly. The saying is both witty and deep. Another crazy comic, Kintz.
Sweet drawing. But I think the saying is more aptly applied to girlfriends.
If I remember correctly, a girlfriend can grasp things quite well.
Crazy drawing, very fluid. And very true.
Great comic. Very witty and true. It is crazy the way his hands are drawn. One of the best comics I have ever see.
Tyler
Cool comic. Boyfriends are like clocks, they can never keep their hands in one place and they always come back around.
Mandy Moore
This guy looks like a fag! Is he supposed to look feminine?
Playing with a puppy on a leash in the park is so cote. Playing with yourself on a leash, for some strange reason, is looked down upon.
Lookinmg out the window on a rainy day lets one know what it's like to be a sock looking in on a bustling laundromat.
Lauren Zimpel
I love my boyfriend so much, that sometimes I even let him eat butter.
Lauren Zimpel
If we eliminated mondays who would wash our streets?
If I lived in the Wild West, I'd ride a cow. He'd be my sidekick, and he'd be called Billy the Cud.
-Jarod Kintz
If I lived in the Wild West, I'd call my horse "Drunk." Then, when I was leaving the saloon, I'd say "I'm going to get drunk." And if someone said, "you are drunk" I'd shoot them.
-Jarod Kintz
Playing cowboys and indians is fun. Playing gatekeeper and gravedigger is good as well.
Tick-tock, tock-tock... Why is half of humanity such supreme DORKS!!!!
I want to open a website that's devoted to giving advice. I'd call it nobody.com. Because nobody can tell you what to do.
-Jarod Kintz
The great thing about being in a relaitionship is feeling free and uninhibiated in the bedroom. This is why I always sleep with strange men in my boyfriends bedroom.
Lauren Zimpel
A bad piece of art is like a pimple. Annoying, commonplace and always showing up at the wrong place and time.
Lauren Zimpel
Sometimes, when I'm typing, I take a mental step back and watch my fingers tap at the keyboard. I smile as I think "this is what Mozart probably looked like playing the piano, if he only had three fingers."
-Jarod Kintz
Some people are like slinkies. They're really good for nothing. But they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.
Man!!!! That Rod Stewart is halarious!!!!!!!!
Yes, but slinkies are even better than people because they are compact and easy to carry in your bag. Slinkies are more like midgets.
I suppose that could be true, however, I don't have nightmares when I dress a slinky up in a clown outfit.
Nobody's ever robbed a bank naked. I suppose they could identify the smallest "member" of my gang. So maybe I'll just rob a strip club naked. Maybe I'll get some tips, and the customers won't tip off the cops.
-jarod Kintz
The picture was black and white,
but it looked green with life.
I noticed her smile first,
and I could almost smell the coffee
brewing, that's how steamy
and refreshing it was.
I liked the way you leaned
against the oak tree,
as if it were a loved one.
The curves of your body were as
graceful as an eagle in flight.
It's because I saw you, and
came to know you, that
I love you.
-Jarod Kintz
He sat in the corner, by the lamp. His computer was off, and his books were piled high like pankaces in a buffet of information. But he left his mental fork in the dishwasher called class, yet his brow was furrowed. Little did I know that he wasn't thinking of new ideas, but of how to best capture a moment in a jar. And if you could, how much could you sell it for on ebay?
-Jarod Kintz
The protagonist in my last story's name was B.J. because he really brought me to my knees.
-Jarod Kintz
His name was Gordon, and his blue eyes were as cold as Wyoming, which is where we met.
-Jarod Kintz
You draw like shit and your T-shirt company is retarded. I hope you enjoy your blogging. It must be fun. YBH. YHBT.HAND.
-Kuro5hin
YBH. YHBT. HAND.
-Kuro5hin
The Marriage
The rain slicked silently
down the window,
as I sat and stared
while listening to the thunder,
and I held her hand
as she held her gaze,
eyes wide with wonder.
-Jarod Kintz
The Apparition
Deep within the shadows of solitude
it watched me like a murky mist,
as it seemingly floated through
the house like the smell of
salmon at three in the morning.
Although I didn't see it, I felt
my flesh grow cold as the hairs
on my neck rose like a thousand
people rising in a standing ovation
And as I krept along, the floor boards creaked like an old
fisherman's back, and its breathing
was as heavy as a gravestone.
Then from out from the balcony
I heard a loud voice bellow
what sounded like an epitaph.
And as my ears strained, I watched
the walls shake like the stomach
contractions of my nervous laugh.
My lips grew taut and my belt
got as tight as my knees, and both
began to buckle. And to this day
if I sit on the couch, I can
still feel the sofa chuckle.
-Jarod Kintz
The corporate Vladder
My heart was kicking
like a horse that was shoved
in the trunk of a Mercedes,
which is how I arrived here
in Miami last tuesday.
This giant man who is now in
my face, whose name is Vladimir,
is about as soft as a pillow
stuffed with razors. He's
been screaming in strings
of Russian with beads of
English that I have offended
the orginization. He says
that he wants to duel,
and he extends his arm with
a Sig Sauer handgun for me
to take and then step back ten
paces. He must be a fan of
the outlaw cowboy, but I reach into my pocket and pull
out a pack of Wrigley
and say, "live by the gum,
die by the gum." and offer
him a piece. When he refuses
I scold him saying it's
unAmerican to reject a piece
of gum. So I snatch the
handgun and pop off three
quick shots to his face
and feel my mouth water
with flavor as I chew my
mint gum and I saunter out
of the abandoned warehouse.
-Jarod Kintz
The Critics
Like a mouse stuffed between
two mattresses, I feel smothered.
My block of cheese of a
book is in a can waiting
to be spread over Ritz crackers,
and eaten by these voluminous
sloths of the literary community.
While they step all over
the grapes of my plot
and wine over my character's
repressed sexual tension I
want to spit in their faces
like an unsheathed penis
in a thirteenth century
Greek Orthodox orgy.
But I smile and fold away
into my wrinkled mind like
a collared shirt crammed
in a suitcase the airoport
has reported as lost.
Then this nerdy little
balding critic with the huge
grandmother glasses asks
me a bizarre question about
my protagonist's metasexual
orientation. I quickly think
how I wouldn't hit a man
with glasses, I would probably
hit him with a wine bottle.
But I put a cork on my anger
long enough to answer his
silly question as I stuff a
piece of cheese sandwiched
between two crackers in my mouth.
-Jarod Kintz
The Bizarrtist
His fingers swirled around in the paint like a blue tornado thrashed with yellow. He dabbed her red panties in the forest green oil
in his paint by underwear series.
The canvas, once white like briefs,
now a menage-a-trois of color.
He used to paint with his hair,
but he is bald, so the canvas
was blank. His clientele found
it hard toupee for such pieces.
-Jarod Kintz
Jarod's smok'n' pencil
spent way more than it should have
in Tallahassee
- O. Raf Ora
We don't like to feed him,
he just sits in the corner
and growls. His hair is matted
and the way he scatches we're
sure he has either flees
or crabs. But we keep him around because that's what family
is for, right? We love you Dad.
-Jarod Kintz
Skip
He's a little slow, but he
can still chase a stick
with the best of them.
He's got brown hair,
the same as I do,
and he is my best friend.
He likes to sleep
in my dirty clothes,
and urinate on the floor
when I don't take him
for a walk in the park.
He's taught me a lot about
myself, and what it means
to eat off a bowl on the floor,
or drink from a filthy toilet.
I don't know what I'd do
without you, Dad. I love you.
-Jarod Kintz
so I snatch the handgun
and pop off three quick shots
to his face and feel my mouth
water with flavor as I chew
my mint gum and I saunter
out of the abandoned warehouse,
when over my shoulder I hear,
“Jarod, we’re not paying you
to stand around—the dead
would die to have a job
like yours—so take the Hearse
and go pick up the pizza we ordered,
we’re gonna be here all night.
Oh, and we’ll be around back
in the embalming barracks.”
Yes Sir, I say as I imagine
stuffing his gluttonous body
in a tiny pine box,
or the trunk of a Mercedes.
-Jarod Kintz
The Flight
Sitting in my seat, my knuckles
clench my seatbelt as the obese
woman to my left chatters
about her children in Ohio.
But I am not listening,
I’m frowning as I fold away
into my wrinkled mind
like a collared shirt crammed
in a suitcase the airport
has reported as lost.
“Do you have a girlfriend?
A handsome boy such as
yourself should have one,”
she says as I look up.
I have several, I respond,
one for every city I do business
In. At work they call me Errol
Kintz. In like Kintz, as my
Colleagues continually joke—
You know, the old saying,
in like Flynn, and I start
to explain but the look in her eyes
is as vacant as the cheap motel
I stayed in last night,
so I stop my sentence short,
just like I stopped short this trip,
and I recline my seat back
and adjust my pillow just
like I do at home with my fiancé,
Amy, who calls me a blanket
thief and also a dog because
every night I somehow manage
to drool on the pillow—her’s,
not mine. My eyelids are twitching
like my legs as I stretch them out.
She was supposed
to be with me on this trip,
but she ran into an old boyfriend
on the way home from work
the other day, and the damage
to her car is extensive, but
the doctors say she should
recover, but that she may never
walk the same again. They also say
that she should wake up from
her coma anytime, so I’m
flying back so I can stay with her
in the hospital and hold her hand
as I whisper our memories
in her ear and tell her that she
is the only one for me,
and that she better wake up
or I’ll hop in the hospital
bed with her and not only will I
drool all over her and steal
her blankets, but I’ll eat
all the Jell-O the nurses bring.
Then the captain’s voice comes over
the speaker and snaps me awake,
and I see that my head
has been resting on the woman’s
shoulder, and there is a puddle
of drool that she just let roll
down her sleeve rather
than waking me, and my hands
are locked onto her’s like
a little boy locks onto a mother’s
leg, but she just held them softly
as I trembled like a tiny child.
-Jarod Kintz
While I vacationed in Atlantis
I played golf with a praying mantis,
I caught some cards with Bugsy Siegal,
And went on a hot date with a sheagle—
Jen’s dad’s a shark, her mother’s an eagle,
And a body that’s busting, super regal.
Out to dinner, our server was Jesus,
He was always quick with the manna
And never failed to please us.
We asked for water that he turned to wine,
I ordered the pork, but he counseled, No swine!
My chalice was heavy, and I felt so frail
‘til he told me all the burdens of the Grail.
He brought the bill and mentioned gratuity,
Saying the ten percent is split among all three of me.
Later on I strolled on the beach with Plato,
We talked religion, philosophy, and of NATO
When over the waves there came a bright light,
And Plato went scrambling into the night
The beam had a pull like a giant horse
With flashes of light like Samuel B. Morse
When I awoke I lay flat on a cold table
My asshole felt as large as a horse stable,
And like an actor in an archaic Sci-Fi flick,
They rubbed and probed all over my…
Body, and I saw a nurse dressed in all white,
Who said I’m the sole survivor of the flight
The captain decapitated, the cockpit crushed
With God’s paint and hand I must have been brushed
My release came next morning, at seven o’clock
So I drove to the port and sat on the dock
When up from the water a fish froze in flight
Then beat its wings and came into sight
It is gray like a shark and feathers of an eagle
Whatever it is, it’s obviously no seagull.
I called out to Jen, and we embraced,
The world became a sketch that we erased,
And I was stiff as a pencil as I hopped on her back
But my ego was large like the frame of Shaq,
Sweating we said this Miami Heat is abysmal,
So we were off to Seattle where the weather is quite dismal.
-Jarod Kintz
Tall and lanky,
His name was Art,
And his personality
Was as abstract
As his features,
Well, mostly his nose,
With an anatomy that
Only Picasso Knows—
I met him one night
While drinking in a bar,
Loud and edgy
Were his fingers,
And his clothes
Spoke Too much,
So said that I’d like
To take Him
Out to lunch
The next day,
But when we
got in my van
I turned my head
As I slowly said
“I’ve changed the plan,”
And we went
To a museum,
Where I snuck
In a hammer,
Then I Hung
Him on the wall,
Criticized him and
Left in such a flurry
That it left my
Mind fluttered
And blurry like
A Van Gogh,
And my van
Went nearly eighty
That day,
As I sped away
With a warped smile—
In true Picasso style.
-Jarod Kintz
Cookies
By Jarod Kintz
“You are such a loser! You don’t give a damn about anybody but yourself,” Amy says as I try to keep eye contact. Her soft blue eyes get really glazed over and hard when she gets upset like this. “Come to think of it, I don’t think you even care about your own life, or you would actually do something with it. You won’t get rich off potential.”
“I won’t,” I say as my eyes widen. “But the pamphlet I got last week says that’s all you need is talent. The government will take care of the rest, they said.”
“You are such an ass. Do you talk to your sweet grandma like this?” She asks as the breeze whisps her brown hair around. “She asked you to move in rent free to take care of her basic needs. You don’t lift a finger around her house. For the last several years I’ve watched you go down. Your early twenties went by with a huge rush of nothingess, which is what you’ve become.”
“I’ve done some things,” I protest trying to think of what I actually have done.
“Like what?” she waves her arms emphatically. “Senior year of high school you were being recruited by MIT for crying out loud. MIT! And what did you do? You signed up for the Army only to get kicked out three months later for planting drugs in an officers jacket.”
“He was a dick,” I shrug as I put my hands in my pockets.
“News Flash, They’re paid to be dicks. That’s how they save your worthless life in action. And since then you’ve blown an internship to NASA, who by the way, offered to pay your way through Embry Riddel University. And yesterday you managed to get fired from your sales job at Dillards. Not for any reason other than you couldn’t wake up on time to get there!”
“They shouldn’t have scheduled me so early,” I say as I pull my hand out of my pocket to massage my neck.
“Since when is three in the afternoon early?” She says as she stomps her foot. “Oh, I guess it is when you stay up all night watching TV and bullshitting online.”
“Ok fine, I did get fired for being a slacker. And I blew several opportunities right out of high school. But I am working on achieving greatness now, Amy. I am close to getting a world record.”
“A world record?” She stammers as her eyes clench and wrinkle. “Stacking bar stools, or bowling a perfect score with your left foot will not make the kind of money you could with your brain, Ora. You are the smartest guy I know. I can’t wait around and watch you waste your life away. I didn’t want to tell you earlier, but I got accepted into Harvard for grad school. I’ll be leaving in several weeks.”
My knees feel a little shaky. “Harvard? But that’s a thousand miles away from here.”
“A thousand miles away from here and from you,” she says. “I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other now. I love you Ora, but you need to work out your life for yourself. I can’t force you to be successful if you don’t want to.” She says as she turns around and walks toward her car. As she opens the door she turns around and says, “I want the best for you. I won’t forget all you’ve taught me, or the fun we’ve had. But I can’t let you drag me down anymore. And you can’t let you drag yourself down either,” and she gets in and drives off.
The Trip
I can't find my wallet,
you can't find the keys,
you say the keys are in my pants,
and I say so is my wallet.
I think my pants are packed
away in your luggage,
beneath my bags in your trunk,
which we'll have to repack anyway,
so we'll have room to fit Grandma.
And where is Grandma's dress?
It's probably in Grandpa's coffin,
sealed tighter than his lips,
my wallet now, and the trunk.
-Jarod Kintz
If your life is your penis, then you probably put your life in your hands nearly every day. Or you put your life in someone else’s mouth or some other bodily crevice. Such is the life of Matt. Every other day he calls me to tell me who he had sex with the night before, or whom he ran in to at the bar. And he makes me come over once a week to look at his new pictures. I’m headed over there now to look at last week’s photos. I go over there every week because he makes me feel better about myself. Not that I’m much better, I just like to think I am. So I am pulling into his apartment complex now and I see he is already waiting like a little puppy that wants to be let out.
“What’s new with you,” I say as I get out of my truck.
“Not a whole lot,” he says as he tokes on a joint. Right now his eyes look like egg rolls—folded over and fried—and he reeks of smoke. “I hope you don’t mind that I am out here smoking,” he says even though I don’t think he would stop even if I did mind.
“Not at all, you know, even the early Christians got stoned,” I say as I smile.
“Is that right?” He asks before he catches on and starts to laugh. “Same old Jarod, we missed you at the pub last night. I met this hot older woman there. Total nymph. You should have heard the crazy shit that came out of this broad’s mouth. Reminded me of some shit you’d say.”
“Oh yeah,” I cock my head to the side and grin. “Does she have a daughter? Or if she’s wealthy, I’ll even take a son.”
“Ha, I didn’t ask. We didn’t do much talking,” he says as he nudges me in the ribs. But you should have seen the blue eyes on her. Rasputin would have been envious.”
He takes me inside and scrolls through his digital camera showing me all his erotic pictures.
“Where is the chick from last night?” I ask as I am listening to his narrative of all the girls.
“She’s not on here yet, but soon enough. Hey, if you want to meet her, we can double up. Bring that new girl your dating, what’s her name?”
“Her name’s Riley. Yeah, tonight sounds good. I’ll ask her. I’m sure she’ll want to meet your latest conquest.”
“And if not, you should stop by later on and just meet her by yourself. I haven’t told her about you yet, but I think you two have the same sense of humor.”
“Ok cool, I’ll just give you a call later on. Right now I have to rush on over for a meeting.”
“Ok, just give me a call and let me know,” he says as he extends his hand for me to shake. “Oh, I haven’t heard from Ora lately, what’s he been up to?”
“Well, his girlfriend left him and moved to Boston, and our Grandma had a heart attack right in front of him.”
“Rough week, man.” He says. “Give me a call tonight.”
I’m now on my way to see Dr. Johnson, my therapist. This has been a hard week for me with my Grandma having to go to the hospital. I pull in to my usual spot and take a moment to relax before going in. Sometimes I like to just stop and look up at the clouds. It helps me to realize that a slow life and a fast life both end up in the same place.It’s three o’clock. I push the door to her office open.
“Hello Jarod,” Dr. Johnson says as I take a seat on the corner couch. “How was your weak?”
“It was pretty shitty actually. My Grandma almost died early this week.”
“You want to talk about it?” She asks.
“No I kind of just want to sit here in silence watching my dollars drain away.” I say as I massage my temples with my fingers. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap at you.” I say as I pull out the pen from my pocket and a piece of paper. “Hold on just one sec. I just thought of something.” On my paper I am scribbling the following: A banker is a man who will lend you the short sleeve shirt off his back, and demand a long sleeve one in return. After I am done writing I look back up. “I’m sorry,” and I turn my head to the side.
“I didn’t say anything, I was just waiting for you to finish writing. I hope it was good,” she says.
“Half of what I write is garbage, but if I don’t write it down it decomposes in my head,” I say before pulling out my little sheet of paper and scribbling that down too. “You know, I am not sure I know how to handle death. I can barely handle life right now. I’m just afraid for my Grandma, that’s all. I think courage and fear are like homosexual lovers. Courage always wants to wear the dress, but sometimes you’ve just got to say, No Bitch! You’re wearing the pants tonight.”
“So which is your grandma wearing, the pants or the dress?”
“She’s definitely wearing the pants. Grandpa took all her dresses before he skipped town on her.”
“You say you don’t think you can handle life very well. I think that’s not true. I think you possess a certain sensitivity that you try to hide from everyone, including yourself.”
“I think people try too hard to figure out who they are. If you have to dig to find yourself, you are probably dead,” I say as I quickly pull out my piece of paper again. “I’m really popping them off this afternoon.”
“I think you should go out, get your mind off things. Go have crazy monkey sex with the first random girl you see. That will really get your mind working in another direction,” she says as she glances at the clock.
I take a pause before responding. “Well, my penis’ name is Pride. And Pride is something every woman should be filled with. But I think it would make me feel better if I got some good writing or drawing in. I need to be productive when I am depressed; it’s the only thing that snaps me out of it. That and a good Mariachi band.”
“For some people, life is about faith. I’ll bet your grandma has a lot of faith.”
“She sure does. An enviable amount. And I think that makes her a powerful person. Sometimes I wish there were a pill for faith that everyone could take. It would help them believe in something greater, and help me believe in people. It would have to be a little faith pill, because too much might cause people to gag and throw up.”
“So she’s religious then?” she asks.
“Oh yeah. She goes to Church every Sunday. Everyone has his or her own personal Gods. For some people it’s money, for other’s it is celebrities,” I say as I am waving my arms in a preachy manner. “Some people think nature is their God. I’d like to apologize to all those people for pissing on their religion.”
“Some people think religion is the crutch of society.”
“If religion is the crutch, society is the broken foot,” I say with a sneer. “Anyways, I don’t like talking about religion or politics with anyone except drunk strangers at a bar.” I glance up at the brushed nickel clock and see that it is 3:57. “Well that about does it for this week, Doc. I’ve got to run, a buddy wanted me to come over tonight and I still have to squeeze in my daily nap.”
“Until then I want you to try to relax a little bit. Your life is not that stressful, and now that your Grandma is ok, I want you to go just a little bit wild.” She says as she sets down her notebook on her desk. I can’t quite make out what she has drawn in it this week. From our recent conversation, it’s probably a Greek Orthodox orgy with Benjamin Franklin in the center, naked from the waist down, and holding a kite with a key attached, and with God’s giant penis coming down from the clouds shooting a lightning bolt out of his urethra. What I wouldn’t give to flip through that notebook of her’s.
“I can do wild, Doc” I say as I open her door.
As I am driving home I get a call from Matt telling me to show up at his place around 8:30. That’s perfect. It gives me just enough time to get in some writing before a three-hour nap. Along the way home I stop and pick up a snack from Publix.
On my way over to Matt’s house I stop back by Publix and pick up a bottle of wine. I’ve made two separate stops here today. My efficiency would make any German engineer shutter with fury. I pick up my phone to call Matt and tell him that Riley won’t be able to make it, but that I should be on time. He tells me that Nancy is already there, so whenever I get there is fine.
As I am leaving Publix I take another pause at my truck door and take a panoramic view of the setting sky. The clouds are wisps of pink and violet, and the blue is a peaceful cerulean that really ties the softer shades together. As I am looking at this beautiful sky my mind wanders to my therapy session with Dr. Johnson this afternoon. How random was her advice on getting laid? Maybe I’ve stumbled on some deep sexual frustration of hers. Maybe she should talk for one session and I’ll just sit back and doodle. Maybe I should stop analyzing her and worry about my own set of problems.
As I am pulling in to Matt’s apartment I look for my usual spot, but it is taken by a familiar car. It’s too expensive for this apartment. It stands out like an NBA player in a dress in a Buddhist monastery. I park and walk around to Matt’s front door. As I am about to knock the door cracks open and I hear a female voice say, “I’m just going to run out to my car for a second. I forgot something.”
When the door fully opens my jaw drops slightly and I rock back and forth a little on my feet as if rocked by a solid punch to my chin. “Dr. Johnson? What are you doing here?”
Her face blushes as she chokes on her words a bit. “So you’re the Jarod Matt was talking about?” Then she starts to laugh a bit as she compulsively massages her hands.
“And you’re the new woman in Matt’s life?” My brow furrows as I struggle to take this all in like any girl working with John Holmes.
“Isn’t life funny?” She asks as she brushes past me. “I’ve got to go to my car to get something.”
“Life is very funny,” I say in a half whisper as I walk in the door.
Matt is on the couch and he mutes the TV when he sees me. He stands up and comes over to shake my hand, His expression changes to one of confusion as he sees the ghostly look on my face.
“What’s the matter, man?” he asks. “Did you meet Nancy on her way to the car?”
“I saw Nancy on the way to her car, but I didn’t meet her there.” I say as I walk over and plop on his black leather sofa.
“So you two know each other then?” He asks.
“I’ll wait for her to come back in before I tell you.” And as I am saying this she walks back in carrying a bottle of white wine.
Matt turns to her and her eyes dart to each of us. He opens his mouth several times before finally saying, “someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”
“I will,” she speaks up. “I’ve known Jarod for a while now.”
“You have!” Matt says slowly. “In what way have you known him?” And he instinctively touches his crotch.
“He’s been my patient for several months now.”
I finally feel composed enough to speak. “Nancy, knowing what kind of girls Matt usually dates, and from your off the wall sexual comments this afternoon when I was not even thinking about sex, I think our professional relationship has changed.”
Matt’s eyes harden a little. “What sexual comments? Were you hitting on my best friend?” He asks.
I jump to her defense, “No, not at all. Her random comments, coupled with what you told me briefly about her lead me to question my therapy sessions.”
“You’re not going to let this get in the way of ourproffesional relationship, are you? She asks.
“To be honest Dr. Johnson, um, Nancy, I never really felt I needed therapy. I just enjoyed being compelled to work out my thoughts orally rather than internally.”
“I don’t know what you must be thinking of me right now—“
“I’m not thinking anything about your personality, I’m only thinking about our relationship in your office. And I don’t see how it can continue the same way now.”
“I feel horrible now,” she says and she goes to sit on the edge of the sofa and she tucks her hand over her eyes to wipe away some tears.
Seeing this makes me feel a little guilty. I’m not angry, just a little surprised. “Nancy, I always liked our banter back and forth. And from what I see now the situation has changed for the better. Now I don’t have to pay to test out my one-liners on you.”
She looks up for a second. “So you don’t think I am a horrible person?”
“Not at all. I think this has been a fortuitous encounter tonight. One that calls for a little white wine. Nancy, I believe I saw you bring some in,” I say as I nod my head over to the coffee table where she set it down.
Matt finally comes to the moment, “hell yeah it calls for some wine.” And he rushes to the kitchen to grab some glasses.
“I’ll take a clean one, asshole,” I yell after him.
“You’ll get what I serve you, jackass,” he hollers back from the kitchen.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to stop coming to our sessions now,” she says. “I really look forward to out brief hour together.”
“I was at the end of them anyways. There’s only one direction in life, and that’s forward. This is just another moving on moment, nothing more, nothing less.”
Matt is now coming out of the kitchen with three sparkling wine glasses. “Freshly scrubbed for you, sir,” he says as I go to take a glass. “Not the glass, my balls,” he says and we all start laughing.
Two hours later and several wine glasses later I get up to leave. “Nancy, this has been without a doubt my greatest session yet. It was a little awkward at first, but definitely a situation that worked out best for both of us.” As I closed the door I stand teetering on the step wondering if I should go back in and ask what she was doodling in her notebook today. Then I smile and shake my head as I pull out my keys and walk to my truck. Some things are best left to my imagination.
-Jarod Kintz
Jarod Kintz
Ramblings of a Sober Spectator
Allen likes to smoke
Bud after work, so I call him
Cheech, and he calls me
Dangerfield, with my large eyes, his
Eyes are like eggrolls—
Folded over and fried and
Getting smaller with each toke,
Hell, if he keeps asking me
I just might have to hit the
Joint, but between him, Jason, and
Ken, I don’t know how much is
Left, it’s just a roach, nothing
More, and what they want
Now is to eat, but nothing’s
Open at this time of night—not even
Papa John’s, so I guess
Quizno’s definitely out of the question.
Randy works there and every
So often he hooks us up, but not
Today since he’s gone to
Uruguay on both business and
Vacation, and later next
Week he’s going to the winter
X—Games that are held every
Year—it represents the
Zenith of extreme sporting events.
Riley
By Jarod Kintz
James is sprawled out on the couch watching TV as I come out of the bedroom putting on my earrings. He barely even glances up to notice my sexy black dress. “Did you get paid today?” I ask as I shove my cell phone into my purse.
“Yep,” James replies without altering his stare away from the TV.
“So you’re taking me out to dinner tonight, right? How much money do you have?” I ask as I walk over to the sofa and sit on the edge.
“I have more money than Jesus,” he says as he turned to look at her.
The sun is setting, and I am squinting into the sun that shines in through the window. My eyes are like the slits in blinds as I smile and say, “So it’s fast food then?”
He turns back toward the TV before responding, “Only if you get a water, babe.”
I let out a wild laugh into the room. “I’ll get a water, if you’re gonna walk on it for me, oh son of the sofa God.”
He turns the volume on the TV up.
“What is it with you?” I ask. “It’s like every time I want to go out or do something, all you want to do is sit your lazy ass here on the sofa watching TV.”
“I don’t always watch TV,” he turns to look at her.
“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot that some nights you are glued to the computer talking to god knows who or what.” I start to raise my voice to a shrill. “It’s like you are in a relationship with myspace.com or Spike TV.”
“God damn it, Riley. Why is it you do this to me every night?” he asks. “I think I am going for a drive,” he says as he gets up and turns off the TV.
He’s putting on his shoes near the front door when I turn to look at him. “I know about the other woman.”
He doesn’t look up. “What are you blathering about now?”
“Denise at work told me you have been sleeping with her best friend.” I say as my face begins to grow hot and red. “I found out yesterday, but I thought she must have been mistaken.”
“I don’t know a Denise,” he says. “And I certainly don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Oh really James.” I say as the tears start flowing hard now. “Then tell me why we haven’t slept together in nearly a month? “
“That’s it,” he says with an elevated voice. “I don’t have to take this shit. I’m going to stay with my brother.” He rushes off into the bedroom to pack his duffel bag full of clothes.
I am visibly shaking now as I tuck myself in to a ball on the sofa. I try to speak up as he walks out of the door but the only audible sound that I can emit are gasps and sobs from my crying.
James hasn’t come home in two weeks, and I feel great. I packed up what little belongings he had and crammed them in a box without regard to their damage condition. Now it’s just me. This morning I felt like a coffee, so here I am at Starbucks. I just got done putting lots of cream and sugar in my coffee before choosing a seat near the window so I could watch the morning traffic when this haggard looking guy walks in the door. He’s pretty tall, several inches over six feet if I were to guess. His shirt is all wrinkled, and judging from his red, puffy eyes, I’d say he’s been up all night. His hair is sloppy, but lots of well-kept, well-rested men have that hairstyle today.
I don’t know why, but I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s good looking yes, but not that handsome. It’s something else. Maybe it’s the look in his eye. He’s got a quiet desperation in them coupled with a certain intensity that seems to mirror his thoughts, which appear to be quick as his eyes dart around rapidly. He walks up to the counter and I strain to hear his voice. “I’ll take a large coffee,” he says. “Oh wait, you guys have the imported size names I forgot. I always get confused. Is the Venti large, as it sounds, or small, as I think it is? Large is small here, that’s cool. I’ll just get a large mild coffee with room for cream and sugar.” He rambles and turns his neck around and checks for a place to sit down.
There’s only one open seat left in the room and my purse is on it. I turn to look away from him and out the window as I slowly grab my purse and lift it to my lap as I open it and shuffle things around noisily in there. I pull out my phone and flip it open and start pushing the down scroll button. Although nobody’s called me since yesterday, from my rapid thumb movements you would think I was Paris Hilton.
As I am still scrolling through my phone I see a shadow come over me. I look up and see him standing right next to me turning his head from left to right looking all over the room as he is muttering, “looking for a chair. Anywhere I could sit down and drink my expensive imported coffee would be terrific,” and then he looks down at me as his eyes go wide with comedic shock. “Oh, hello. Is that chair taken?”
I giggle a little. “No, feel free.”
“Why thank you,” he says as he moves around me to sit down. “Oops, I almost forgot the cream and sugar.” And he gets up with a jolt and speed walks over to the sugar counter.
He comes back shortly and sees me watching him. “I’m Jarod,” he says as he holds out a large hand for me to shake.
“Riley,” I say as he gives my hand a firm, but not forceful squeeze. Lifting up my coffee I keep talking. “Gotta jump start my mornings.”
He smiles. “Coffee, the breakfast of champions. I need it because I have been up for nearly two days now.”
I am smiling as I watch his mannerisms. He has this compulsive hand twitch, and he rolls his hand back and forth between his pinky and thumb as if to a rhythm in his head. “That’s a curious thing you do with your fingers,” I say.
“Fingers are a curious thing to me,” he says.
“How so?” I ask.
“Well, I’m allergic to them,” he says. “So I have to eat foods like pizza with my feet.”
I start laughing. “I’d hate to see you eat on the run,” I say as we both start laughing.
“Have we met before?” He asks.
“I think I would remember a shirt like yours,” I say. “It’s more wrinkled than my that guy’s face over there,” I say nodding to a man who must be Moses’ oldest son.
“Snicker all you want,” he says. “But the clothes don’t make the man, the man makes the clothes. Or sometimes little children do.”
“That’s wrong,” I say as I giggle a little.
“I have a thing about clothes. I find it very uncomfortable folding clothes, especially when I’m wearing them.” He says very seriously.
I laugh and we keep talking for over an hour. We talked about everything from religion to politics to sex. He had some interesting things to say on the subject of sex.
“In life there is no direction, I have to find my own compass,” he said. “I just try not to use my penis as the guiding needle.”
“So you practice abstinence then?” I asked.
“Not at all. I just practice what I call sexual economics.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “And what is that exactly?”
“It’s very simple. If you demand it, I won’t supply it.”
“So you don’t like having sex all that much?”
“Not at all,” he said. “Sex is great with anybody, so long as it’s me. I think sex is like investing. Sometimes it takes little or no money, just a lot of haggling.”
“Haggling!” I said. “Well that’s romantic. Would you say that you are a superficial person?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m superficial, just averagely ficial.” He said.
“What about love and sex?” I asked.
“Hmmm. That’s a good question,” He said as his brow furrowed for several seconds. “I think sex is the stairs, while love is the railing. One is good exorcize and will take you to a higher place, while the other gives you something to hold on to.”
“Oh that’s sweet. I also think love gives you something to hold on to.”
“Oh, I was thinking that was the sex part. Literally something to hold on to.”
And we started laughing.
“I guess that makes love good exorcize because it’s hard, “ I said as I glanced at my watch to check the time.
“You have to go?” He asked.
“Unfortunately I do.”
“Well, can I get your number ad continue our conversation over dinner tonight?” He asked as he pulled out his cell phone.
I look at him for a second before saying yes. After he put my number in his phone he told me to be ready by eight, and to dress nice. He said he would take me to Ruth’s Chris tonight. He takes down my address and I leave to go to work.
It’s now 8:02 and he hasn’t called yet. I am wearing my sexy black dress because it fits nice on my body and makes me look more proportional. I am standing in front of my mirror swiveling, checking out my ass from different views when I hear a knock at the front door. I pause for a second before slowly walking to get it.
“Sorry I am late,” he says as he extends flowers.” I know, cliché, right? But I didn’t have time after work to think about something more memorable to get you.”
“That’s ok, they’re beautiful,” I say.
“And so are you, I must say.”
“A smooth talker, are we? Is this the beginning of your haggling process?” I ask as I laugh. “First the flowers, then Ruth’s Chris, then me for desert?”
“I could go for that, yes,” he says with a smile as he ushers me out of the door.
“You look great by the way,” I say.
“You think so?” He says. “After my shower I tried on several pairs of pants before settling on these black ones. I was going to wear my magic pants. I always wear those out to the club. They bring me luck with the ladies. I bought them from some emperor guy. Most people can’t see them.”
“If you wore those, I might be overwelmingly tempted to get in your pants.”
“Like I said, they’re magical like that,” he says as he waves his arm as if he has an invisible wand. “My ex-girlfriend was always trying to get into my magic pants, especially when my friends were wearing them.”
“Ooh, that doesn’t sound too magic,” I say.
“Our relationship wasn’t exactly a fairy tale,” he says with a shrug as he opens my car door.
Dinner was great, and the conversation was even better. But for some reason all I can think about is James. Not in the sense that I wish he were Jarod, but more the fact that I wish he could see me having such a great time. We are on the way home and the whole time we are chatting before he reaches across the center console to hold my hand. I grab his hand as I turn my head to hide my smile. We pull into my apartment and I turn to look at him.
“Do you want to come in for some desert,” I say.
His cheeks lift as he gives me a big smile. “That’s got to be the best question I’ve heard all day.”
The sun is shining in through my blinds as I roll over and feel an empty pillow. I sit up wondering where he went. I see a note sitting on my nightstand. I pick it up and immediately wipe the sleep out of my eyes so I can read it. It looks like a five year old wrote it. I can’t read it at all. Then I realize that he wrote the note backwards. I have to either hold it up to a mirror, or flip it over and read it in the light. So I turn it over and hold it up against the morning sun. It says:
Good morning gorgeous. I had a great time last night—twice. And dinner was fun too. I had to work early this morning at the airport, but I was hoping we could catch a movie later on tonight. Give me a call after four.
~Jarod
I am smiling as I carefully set the note inside my diary I keep in my nightstand. As I am flipping through my diary to see where to put the note, my phone rings. I look at the caller ID and see that James is calling. I let it go to voicemail and keep looking at my diary. The phone starts ringing again, so I pick up. “What do you want James?”
He is eating pizza with his feet as a bloody towel lays on the floor. We are in the Middle East. This man, Khalid, has two fish for hands, (salmon, I think) or did. He is allergic to fish, that's why I had to peel off his filthy socks like the skin of a rotton avocado, so he could eat. This morning he was caught stealing gasoline (1,000 barrels, I think) and they cut off his right hand, but we scidaddled before they could sever his left hand. I don't think I'll ever eat fish again, at least not raw fish. We have to go soon, the government officials are waiting for us like a wet bear upstream poised and ready to snatch up a fish. It will be hard not to laugh as we are sprinting, watching Khalid "eat on the run."
-Jarod Kintz
Empty Pockets of My Past
A cell phone with 17 missed calls, a half-torn movie ticket from The Pink Panther, a wallet with two Magnum condoms and one dollar, a broken, plastic four-leaf clover, a blue ballpoint pen, a suicide note written on the back of a postcard from St. Augustine and signed, "Your Loving Son."
-Jarod Kintz
Year round I work as hard as a cat, so when I go on vacation I don't want to go to a litter box city. I avoid large clumps of shitty people that surround cities like Detroit and Atlanta.
-Jarod Kintz
I showed up for a first date last week wearing the girl's panties. she asked me why I was wearing her panties and I said they were more comfortable, plus I didn't feel the pressure to try to sleep with her because I have already been in her pantiess.
-Jarod Kintz
I once asked a wise old man where I could find knowledge. He pulled down his pants, bent over and said, "In here, Boy. Reach inside and pull it out." So I rolled up my sleeves and stuck my hand in his anal cavity and groped around for what felt like eternity, but was in fact a little over an hour. Finaly, I felt a book as thick as a dictionary. I pulled it out and asked if this was the book of knowledge. He slowly shook his head and said, "No Boy, this is my little black book, or was, now it's rather brown. I keep it there so my wife doesn't find it." My face contorted. I reeked of dissapointment. Dissapointment and human feces. A part of me was left deep inside of his ass that day, and I haven't been back since to find it.
-Jarod Kintz
To conserve gas, I walk a lot. I park in the farthest spot away from the store. It might not sound like much, but if everyone in America started doing that I could get the best parking spaces.
-Jarod Kintz
I'm all about efficiency. Why have two jobs, when I could have one? Why pay for two cars when I could just steal a bike. And why have two girlfriends when I only have one penis?
-Jarod Kintz
Her story flowed as smooth as peanut butter on a piece of white bread, and I enjoyed it just as much.
-Jarod Kintz
She had me in her pocket, or pouch, as she was a sex kangaroo, always hopping on everybody's dick.
-Jarod Kintz
Today, we an fit all the world's knowledge in a tiny computer chip that's smaller than my penis. But why can't I fit a tenth of that knowledge in my brain, which is a thousand times larger? I guess I've got dick for brains. Maybe that's why I have the apetite of a woman.
-Jarod Kintz
I had a trophy wife once, but she died on the mantle where I kept her. I won her at the Special Olympics wherre I placed third out of two retards.
-Jarod Kintz
When someone says, "do I know you," and you met them only once.
"I can understand why you don't remember me, those Roofies were pretty strong...don't worry, I pulled out."
-Jarod Kintz
She was like a fire ant caught on fire, and all I did was step on her.
-Jarod Kintz
Nothing is better than a pretty woman standing next to you, except perhaps for two pretty women who taste like oranges, and each with a shot glass full of vodka in both hands.
-Jarod Kintz
friends are like furniture. They are meant to be sat on, not stuffed in your attic, unless they are antiques, then they should be sent to the retirement home, because any antique dealer will tell you, there is no value in an ancient piece of furniture that is saturated with shit.
-Jarod Kintz
A lot of people in the world are starving in the world, and here in America, our septic tanks are overflowing. I don't understand why we just don't give a shit tank or two?
-Jarod Kintz
People are basically like animals, except without all the hair and the ability to wipe each other's asses. Wait, can bears do that?
-Jarod Kintz
Love is a high-speed internet connection. Nothing is faster, except for the quickness your husband leaves you for California over what he will soon find out is a fifty-year-old man posing as an eighteen-year-old stripper.
-Jarod Kintz
Love is a candy bar filled with nuts. A lot of these nuts you thought you liked, but ultimately you find it was just the aphridisiac that you were attracted to.
-Jarod Kintz
Love is just something that happens, like shitting your pants while you are babysitting, and using up all of the baby wipes on yourself.
-Jarod Kintz
I love women who will sleep with you after you just met them. That's why I hang out with narcoleptics.
-Jarod Kintz
Love is like a milk carton filled with sperm. Sticky, yet it affects thousands of lives with every serving.
-Jarod Kintz
I like making love. I make it out of rubber that I sell on the internet to the highest bidders.
-Jarod Kintz
Love doesn't find you, you have to find it. Here's where to look. 1111 High Rd. Apt. C 105 Tallahassee, Fl 32304. If you want the phone number, just send me an email first. And before showing up, let me know so I can clean the place up a bit first.
-Jarod Kintz
Robert Olen Butler uses more commas in his work than any other bed-time story book I've ever fallen asleep to.
-Jarod Kintz
She asked me what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking anything; I was so happy I had a thousand symphonies playing in my head and I had to rearrange my thoughts just to accompany them so they could all fit.
-Jarod Kintz
My brother used to live in the jungles of Idaho. He grew potatoes made out of coconuts. They grew in trees on the beach in Missouri where we used to live when we lived in Texas. It's fun to make French Fries out of coconuts made out of cheese (which is what he grows now). Until they get moldy and then you make sombreros out of them and sell them to the migrant farm workers. There are hundreds of them. I wish I knew where they lived. I should have thought to get their license plate number.I've been to the parking lot you are talking about. I know because I wrote "I've been to this parking lot" in spray paint when me and the family were there on vacation from the family. We have a large family that we keep in a rather small box made of cheese that we keep refrigerated. My brother made it for us out of coconuts that had migrated to Idaho.
-Jarod Kintz
I've lived in Fl for almost 16 years now. I had to keep moving for a while because the police were loking for me. But I haven't brutally murdered anyone in months. Being a psychopath just wasn't as glorious of a lifestyle as promised in the brochure.
-Jarod Kintz
"My armpits smell like chicken right now."
"Fried chicken or baked?"
"Extra crispy."
-Jarod Kintz
One-wheeled love affair
-Jarod Kintz
There are always three doors to take in life. I always try to pick tho one with that's made of glass. Second best is the one with the doorbell. The one I never take is the doggy door with the sign above it that says Beware of Dog.
-Jarod Kintz
For the rest of my life I'll be trying to figure out what I'm going to do for the rest of my life.
-Jarod Kintz
My sex life is all right. The problem is I'm on the left.
-Jarod Kintz
For me, sex is like managing a company. I get to sit back in my chair while every other guy is running around doing it for me.
-Jarod Kintz
Sex on saturday nights is like my father==never there for me when I need it, and when it is it usually involves belts and spankings.
-Jarod Kintz
I never have sex with the lights off. I get scared when I'm alone in the dark.
-Jarod Kintz
Most people have sex on beds. I do it on my desk, because that's where I keep my computer.
-Jarod Kintz
I don't like to brag, but my wife's sex life is better than ever now that I'm making more money. I just hired this new pool boy...
-Jarod Kintz
I can't imagine having amoebas as parents, knowing that they are definitely going to split up.
-Jarod Kintz
An engineer is someone who has found something more efficient than sex, like masturbation.
-Jarod Kintz
If we party together, I promise you I'll hold my liquer. I'd also like to hold yours too.
-Jarod Kintz
A good girlfriend is someone who, at a party, will hold her liquer, and not your hand.
-Jarod Kintz
People ask me if I'm a glass half-empty, or a glass half-full kind of guy. I tell them that if the glasses are filled with Vodka than my nature is one of duality, and I will take both glasses.
-Jarod Kintz
I don't need a reason to drink, nor do I even need a glass.
-Jarod Kintz
Alcohol is not the question, but the answer.
-Jarod Kintz
Although I don't do drugs, I'm not opposed to doing people who do drugs.
-Jarod Kintz
I had sex with a midget prostitute. I got her for half price.
-Jarod Kintz
I had sex with a dolphin, and she couldn't stop looking in the mirror.
-Jarod Kintz