— all blog entries following are written as fiction based off reality of blog owner, critiques welcome —
the phone ringing in my ear hurts so much. not because of the noise but because of the caller. It's my parents. they don't know me. i don't know them. but by relation i answer. and the call is as awkward as calling a sex hotline with no goal to get off.
i answer. i talk. they talk. thats it. nothing deep or meaningful, which wouldn't be expected 50 years ago, but i live in the 21st century. No one cares about family now. at least not politically. and my family is the most politically correct family in the world. my father is a pastor. my mother is a nurse. my sister, a nurse. my parents think that i will follow my fathers footsteps and become a pastor but i am a photojournalist by trait and military man by name. i'm the wow card of my family. yes, wow card. not wild card. i cause people to say 'WOW! did he just do that,' not 'whoa, he is a wild card.'
but lest, the intro ends. i'm drunk and don't care enough to finish explaining who i am. essentially, i am jack cougar. in reality I'm a nameless human walking around town with a social security card in my pocket. which gives me a nomenclature to the government workers who don't know me. i am the 1800's john smith — the 1990's joe schmow. i am the 2000's james doe. i am humanity's average. no ambition, but a will to provide for those whom i support. the exact reason humans will never amount to anything.
but i do write.
and i do exercise.
and i don't fluff my feathers.
also, i don't care.
but to the point of the story.
i called my parents while on my way to buy a friend a Lamborghini. i had won the lottery may be a month ago and wanted to share the wealth. it just so happens i only have one friend. lucky him.
my parents distracted me so much i hung up on them. they called me back while i was in the middle of price negations for the sports car. evidently if you get called while dealing with a car dealer your price drops 30,000 dollars. whats more is i got 0 percent financing. forever. either talking on a cell phone makes you important or it just made an impression.
i left. i went back to my room. i popped open a beer and fell asleep.
i awoke to a soft knock. a little giggle. and a "it's kindle," which is obviously a fake name, but i open the door anyway.
surprise, it's a jehovah's witness, calling me to believe. so be it, i already believe. just not what they preach. the door slams, simultaneously locking the door. i go back to my 3 and 1/2 foot couch and fall asleep.
The next time i awake, i don't know what day it is, but i know where i am. in hawaii. in waikiki. and all around me is a drowning wind of an emergency alarm ring. bouncing. resonating. deafening. i run outside and realize i am in 5 feet of water. good thing i am still in boxers, otherwise i would sink from an inability to swim.
i get to the top of the roof and wait.
a helicopter comes. saves me from starvation or drowning — which ever would have come first. as we fly, i point out other people, humans, living beings, who need saving. but just because i have a high-and-tight and white skin, i get the 'lucky' pick. i watch random strangers start to cry as we fly by them, almost ignoring their pleas for life. i watch people fall to their knees. i watch people with small children and babies yell out to the copter. yet we keep on. and i ask myself why me. but then again i am a writer. and a photographer. in which i caught all those emotions. and i am a military man. so my importance can be checked off in boxes where the people i passed can't.
as we take off, i thank the flight chief for pulling me into the copter. he smiles at me and says "you don't fucking know how much i wanted you to fall and drown."
right then, i realize that even though i don know anything about my parents and they don't know anything about me, they are the closest human beings who know me as a person than i will ever have. we fly to a landing zone. i get off. i go to a medical tent. i get my prescription of muscle relaxers. afters two days i volunteer to help the needy.
i guess being apart of a politically correct family counts for something.
although, i still don't have a wife. children. a promising job. a means of sustenance or a way to explain what i do, to complete strangers. so be it.
Life happens. and i have an appointment. apparently with a doctor i never heard of.
