Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Alt-Text From Dinosaur Comics #2

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” I said. “Now we’re getting all sorts of somewhere.”
Really I was deluding myself. The YUGO hadn’t worked in weeks, and there was very little chance I would move from the Super 8 parking lot without the assistance of a tow truck. Still, as I sat back in the driver’s seat, thumbing the felt lined steering wheel to the beat of Paul Simon’s “Kodachrome,” I knew Connecticut had yet to get the best of me.

In my mind I was already halfway to Nebraska. In my mind, the cracks in the asphalt melted together as my tires rode past. Of course, in my mind I also hadn’t spent February in Milford. And in reality, I still had to figure out some way to pay my already mounting motel bill before I could go anywhere.

Also there was a doctor. He wouldn’t tell me his name, but he seemed decent enough, so I let him hang out in my car.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Alt-Text From Dinosaur Comics #1

"It is a purposely inauspicious start."

“But when do you suppose it’ll be finished?” I said. The rock-face looked as if it might collapse before Jerry finished carving what he wanted to call his legacy. “You wouldn’t be the first man I knew to spend his entire life trying to chisel Greta Garbo’s face into a prominent area of the Grand Canyon.”

“Really?” he asked, continuing to chip away at the area above what was starting to look like Garbo’s left eyebrow. “Cause-”

“I know some people.” The sun was particularly targeted that day. I stood nearby in silence for a while, taking small, meticulous sips from my canteen. The pick axe moved against the rock like a na├»ve guest at a rave party moved to the music; slow, but as an attempt to fit in rather than as the result of gratuitous amounts of drug use. And damn, how I wanted a glow stick. The year was 1925, and I, Helen Strambauer, would soon find my time machine broken, my husband missing and my current home in disarray. Even as I stood next to Jerry though, watching him delicately trace Garbo’s hairline, I knew this would be one of my more difficult adventures.

Also there was a doctor. He watched us from nearby, and occasionally shouted down instructions in French.

Monday, January 4, 2010

First Words Spoken In Episode 87 of This American Life

"So David was working, making his living as a uh...maid basically."
The crowd said nothing.
"And he um...he said that he'd write to you guys or something, so..." Danny looked at the ground. "I can tell you people don't believe me."
They remained expressionless, their stare silently fixed with Danny's fidgety movements onstage.
"Look, I didn't even want to be the messenger here. He sent me. I don't...I didn't even know any of you people until last week. I mean, yeah I lied before but...look the story is true. David is alive and he's doing exactly what I said." He stopped his hand from shaking. "If you don't believe me that's your...I'm sorry for interrupting your town meeting thing. I'm sorry. Mr. Mayor you can have your podium back." Danny stepped off the stage and started walking toward the back of the meeting hall.
"Danny, wait!" He heard a shout from behind him. He turned to see Jessica standing up, alternating between looking back at her parents on the stage, and at him.
"Yes?"
"He's...He's not a mayor. The correct term in this case would be town supervisor."
"Oh."
"Just thought I should clear that up."
"Sure, makes sense." Danny left the meeting hall as Jessica sat back down.
Also there was a doctor. He was half-asleep though, so he didn't really catch much of what had gone on in the last few minutes.