Office work
A second offering of James Tate imitation. Enjoy!
Office WorkAll of us were seated at our desks as usual. Jenny was busy taking a call. Mark was busy writing up the quarterly reports. Suddenly, the door to Mr. Johnson’s office burst open and a small man holding a pair of trousers ran out cackling maniacally. Mr. Johnson followed him, pantless, bellowing and waving his arms. The small man was running fast, and he had gotten a head start, but Mr. Johnson was gaining on him, puffing and red in the face. At the last possible moment, the dors to the office elevator slid open and the small man darted inside, leapt into the air, and pushed the “Close Doors” button. The doors slid shut on Mr. Johnson’s nose, and he was left standing there, red-faced, with his shirt hanging down over a pair of clean white boxer shorts. He turned around to face the office, which finally seemed to acknowledge his pantless, breathless state, clearly agitated. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to force words out. Then Mary, in a voice that was full of the good sense that most professional typists seem to be endowed with, said, “You should really stop hiring dwarves as office assistants, sir,” not even pausing to look up from her assignment. Mr. Johnson looked at her, eyes boggling with rage, but then his mouth snapped shut, he stomped back down to his office without a word, and slammed his door shut because he knew what we all knew. Mary was always right.
Have a great day!!
I mentioned james tate...
If I recall correctly, I mentioned that I had been doing some work based on the prose poetry of one of my favorite poets, James Tate.
For my favorite poem at the moment "Young Man with a Ham" go
here.
This is the one that started it all... the lunacy, the raving, the gratuitous cooking of vegetables.
I'm off to find one of my latest poems so that I can retranscribe it here... it's called "Office Work" and it has some of the following
-telephone calls
-a midget
-a boss who has had his pants stolen
-a wise secretary named Mary
-elevator doors that close on noses
It will be up for your viewing pleasure soon enough.
But for now... I must go.
Andy
Sincere Thanks
Editor's note... I located my original file for the prose poem today, and opted to replace the one I originally posted with the one I originally intended to post.I really appreciate the three sales I've had so far! It's a really cool deal to be able to say that you've written something that people have purchased.
I've taken to reading a lot of James Tate lately. I'll be posting one of my creations based on his work very soon... like right now.
"STONE GOOSE"
When I went out this morning to get the paper, I noticed that my stone goose with a sailor outfit had moved. Not that this was unusual, It moves all the time without my noticing it, probably just neighborhood children playing a prank. They never steal the goose because it must weigh one hundred pounds and that seems to be a lot to steal. Most mornings, when I emerge bleary eyed from my house, the goose has just moved a foot or two, but this morning was different. “Honk” said the goose. It was distinct. It couldn’t have come from anywhere other than the goose. I bent down to examine the once lifeless statue that had begun to honk at me from my own front porch. As I peered into its glassy eyes, an ear shattering boom came from the front yard, and I turned just in time to see my mailbox sailing into the distance. Then the laughter of the neighborhood children reached my ears, and I noticed the tape recorder hidden inside the goose’s sailor cap.
You have to admit. It was a darn good prank.
Okay... that's it
Talk to you all later
Andy
