Calvero's Blog, page 210

5. the lady and the monster in her basement The lady who...

    5. the lady and the monster in her basement

    The lady who answers the door looks like her name would be “Sponge.” She’s older, overweight, wears a floral-print nightgown and her hair is in curlers. But the curlers look like they haven’t left her hair in decades. Like they are long-time residents in the suburb that is her huge head of hair and who never plan on moving away either.
    “Is that my pizza?” the lady asks the ex-girl but asking her in a tone of voice where her question sounds more like an angry statement.
    “Yes, this is your pizza,” the ex-girl says, smiling that smile of hers made of dead butterfly wings at the lady.
    The ex-girl takes the pizza out of the heater and hands it to the lady.
    “$13.75, please.”
    The ex-boy puts his hand on the ex-girl’s shoulder as she makes the exchange.
    Moral support.
    The lady reaches for some money on a nearby table and shoves it into the ex-girl’s hand.
    “That’s $14. I don’t have any more money. That damn monster in my basement is eating me out of house and home.”
    All of a sudden, a large noise comes from inside the house. The noise sounds like a combination between a metal garbage can being thrown into a wood chipper and a depressed whale calling out for its lost mate somewhere in the ocean.
    “He sounds hungry,” says the ex-boy.
    “And sad,” says the ex-girl.
    “He’s always hungry and sad,” says the lady. “But he won’t be hungry and sad for long.”
    “Because of the pizza?” says the ex-girl.
    “You call it pizza. I call it a murder weapon,” says the lady. “All I feed the monster is pizza. Pizza, pizza, pizza. It weakens his heart. Clogs its arteries with grease, slowly and gradually killing him off until the day when he drops dead of a heart attack and I’m finally free of the bastard.”
    The lady smiles for the first time since she answered her door after saying this and the ex-boy and ex-girl watch as her eyes travel someplace else. A far off, distant place. A happy place. A place where there is definitely no longer a monster in her basement. After a brief moment her eyes return and, consequently, her smile disappears.
    “I need to go. Here I am supposed to be murdering a monster with pizza and here I am talking to you two about murdering a monster with pizza.”
    The lady shakes her head in regards to herself wasting time and slams the door shut.
    It becomes quiet outside and the ex-boy becomes very aware that his hand is still on the ex-girl’s shoulder.
    He’s also becomes very aware the ex-girl isn’t smiling anymore.
    Her black rain cloud begins trembling and making rumbling noises.
    Like a hungry, empty stomach.
    But a hungry, empty stomach that is angry too.

Sometimes I force myself to leave the house and do things but the only reason I do this is so when...

Sometimes I force myself to leave the house and do things but the only reason I do this is so when...

Photo

4. moral support The ex-boy and the ex-girl are standing...

    4. moral support

    The ex-boy and the ex-girl are standing at the front door of a house.
    The house looks like an old hitchhiker that was trying to make it all the way out to California but that no one ever picked up and so it grew tired and gave up and just turned itself into a rickety, old house instead of ever laying its eyes on the Pacific.
    Holding a pizza with one hand, and with her black rain cloud hovering over her head like some kind of morose crown, the ex-girl knocks on the front door.
    The ex-boy stands beside her, also wearing his black rain cloud like some kind of morose crown.
    He doesn’t know why he’s standing beside her.
    He doesn’t know why he isn’t waiting in the car.
    Delivering pizzas is a one person job.
    Moral support.
    He is there for moral support.
    “That was a good, firm, solid knock you gave that door,” he says to the ex-girl, attempting to give her some form of moral support.
    “Thank you,” she says, proceeding to smile.
    Her smile draws him in.
    It is like nothing he’s even seen before.
    Her smile looks like it’s made from the wings of dead butterflies.
    Her smile makes him feel like dancing.
    But the ex-boy doesn’t dance.
    He can hear someone on the other side of the door beginning to unlock it.
    Don’t dance.
    Moral support.

3. the olive garden The ex-boy and the ex-girl are on the...

    3. the olive garden

    The ex-boy and the ex-girl are on the road.
    It’s been ten minutes and they haven’t spoken yet.
    The silence doesn’t feel weird though.
    It feels fine.
    And smells like pizza.
    “The silence in here smells like pizza,” says the ex-boy, breaking the pizza-smelling silence between them.
    “Oh. Yeah. That’s because I’m delivering pizzas.”
    The ex-girl motions towards the back with her head. The ex-boy looks behind them and sees stacks of pizzas kept in red, fabric heaters piled in the backseat.
    He also notices another black rain cloud.
    The other black rain cloud floats behind the ex-girl’s head and has a bright pink bow on top of it. His rain cloud and the ex-girl’s rain cloud seem to be exchanging cryptic looks at one another. As if they’re either going to begin fighting or making out. Or begin a fight that gradually turns into a hot, intense make out session.
    The ex-boy isn’t sure.
    “I’m saving up for a trip to The Olive Garden,” says the ex-girl. “That’s why I’m delivering pizzas. To make tips to go to The Olive Garden. Then once I make enough and go to The Olive Garden I’ll probably quit delivering pizzas. And then I dunno.”
    The ex-boy nods.
    “I like The Olive Garden,” he says.
    “Me too. Isn’t it lovely there?”
    The ex-boy nods again.
    It’s the exact same nod he nodded before.
    Only five seconds later.

2. ex-girl A small Nissan pulls up in front of the...

    2. ex-girl

    A small Nissan pulls up in front of the ex-boy.
    The driver of the small Nissan is what the ex-boy immediately recognizes as a very pretty, twenty-something year old ex-girl.
    The pretty ex-girl rolls down the passenger side window and leans over from her seat, looking out the window at the ex-boy. Her hair is the color of The Civil War and she wears a red jacket and a cheap-looking, red baseball cap that is too big for her head but still looks cute on her head regardless.
    The ex-boy notices her clothes are entirely soaked and thinks she looks like a giant tear.
    He likes her already.
    The ex-girl looks the ex-boy up and down, making the ex-boy feel like a piece of meat with a black rain cloud over its head.
    “Where are you going, darling?” the ex-girl asks.
    “I don’t know,” the ex-boy replies. “I have absolutely no idea. Cars. I’m just looking at cars.”
    The ex-girl grabs the passenger side door’s handle and throws the door open for him.
    “Get in,” she says.
    The ex-boy looks at his black rain cloud. He hesitates.
    “Can I bring my black rain cloud with me?”
    The ex-girl laughs and shakes her head as if the ex-boy just told her a really bad knock-knock joke. But she’s not laughing at it because she finds it funny. She’s laughing at it because of how awfully bad the knock-knock joke was.
    “Of course you can bring your black rain cloud, darling.”
    The ex-boy doesn’t hesitate any longer. He gets in the car and closes his door. Following him like a pet, the ex-boy’s black rain cloud floats through the rear passenger-side window and hovers behind its owner’s head in the back seat.
    It decides to get comfortable, the black rain cloud.
    It rolls over a few times, like a dog rolling around in grass, until, eventually, it settles down.
    The ex-boy doesn’t see this.
    He just feels his black rain cloud do this.
    He also smells pizza.

What their email shoulda said."Dear Calvero,Unfortunately you...

What their email shoulda said.

"Dear Calvero,

Unfortunately you didn’t follow directions so we cannot consider this piece. We understand accidents happen but hope you’ll submit again to us in the future following our instructions. Thanks anyway.”

Fan boobs = an awesome X-Mas present.

Fan boobs = an awesome X-Mas present.

1. ex-boy A twenty-nine year old ex-boy stands on the...

    1. ex-boy

    A twenty-nine year old ex-boy stands on the sidewalk of a very busy street.
    A black rain cloud hovers a few inches above his head.
    The black rain cloud is the size of a golden retriever.
    A golden retriever that isn’t house broken.
    The ex-boy is standing there on the sidewalk with a non-house broken, black rain cloud hovering over his head because he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
    The ex-boy’s constant idleness/lack of direction is the mother of the black rain cloud.
    The black rain cloud itself is a bastard and both the black rain cloud and the ex-boy know this, as well as accept it, because they both understand there is no way to go about changing this.
    Not knowing what else to do, and knowing there’s nothing to be done, and that there’s no place to be, the ex-boy watches the cars go past.
    All of the cars the same.
    All of the cars different.
    But none of the cars for him.

Mother fuckin’ DEE DEE RAMONE art exhibit in Chelsea!!!!

Mother fuckin’ DEE DEE RAMONE art exhibit in Chelsea!!!!