Gumption

As I sit here, recovering from a fracture and read my fellow corpses’ pieces, I find myself wondering what it would be like to be toothless. A one-handed Safari misstep results in several links to toothless blowjobs. Curious, I dare not open. It’s my work phone.

Called gumjobs I’m not quite sure how “gum” replaces “blow.” There was no conventional blowing in my Scarborough upbringing.

  If you’re an aging actor needing reinvention or a hottie who’s lost all teeth in a car accident, I can see how this can be a way to make your mark (without a mark).

Inspired by Gap Kid. Photo by Nina Malyna.

Gap Kid

The boy waits for his first tooth to work loose. Behind some of his friends, he wants desperately to be a part of it, this basic rite of passage. Because now he can push it right over—with a bit that still clings to his gums, bleeding a little—the grown-ups cringe. They don’t remember, can’t even imagine the thrill of losing something they now work so hard to hang onto.
     Finally, come morning, it lays by his pillow to be found, so small, but somehow too special to lose. His grin made all the broader with one tooth missing.

Inspired by Abby Normal. Photo by the author.

Abby Normal

“Can he bring it home?” Jane‘s husband was about to have a large nasal polyp removed, and I wondered about a souvenir.

     We were a family of LET ME SEE ITs. Simultaneously intrigued and repulsed by our own effluvia. Our house was full of pickled specimens, mostly Gerry’s: Tooth extractions, kidney crystals, gelatinous abscesses that floated like jellyfish.

     If pressed, where would obliging surgeons draw the line? 

     “Surely,” says Jane, “they wouldn‘t let you bring an amputated limb home.”

     Maybe. But they let Dad keep a huge calcified gallstone in a baby food jar that you could shake like a maraca.

Inspired by Mark’s Polyp. Photo: Cucumbers by Laurie.

Democracy: The Musical

I hear their tinny, amplified voices across Kraków’s Main Square, and wander over to see what’s happening. They are young Ukrainians, singing patriotic songs and raising money for their country’s struggle against its invader. They are few but their spirits are high. They gather every night. Days later in Warsaw, I encounter another thin crowd of energetic, singing, flag-waving youths. They are Georgians, protesting their government’s anti-democratic tilt. All this in Poland where, just months before, voters ousted an autocratic government. My takeaway? When times are least encouraging, there’s an alternative to apathy: it’s taking a stand for your beliefs.

Inspired by Elevator Pitch and Courage. Photos by the author, Spring 2024. 

Elevator Pitch

“It’s like Twilight meets Arrested Development meets Avatar set in space in 2450. Essentially, the preserved brain of Stephen Hawking is accidentally melded to the brain of someone like GOB Bluth and they get put into this Iron Man suit and sent out to a mining colony on Mars to hunt down Martian vampires, who are trying to eliminate the colonists because the mine is poisoning the planet. And then the beautiful female leader of the Martians falls in love with our hero because of his brilliant, self-absorbed mind. But they’ve both sworn to kill each other. It’s a musical.”

Inspired by Tis the Season. Image by Image Creator.

Tis the Season

Heading down for lunch, the elevator stopped on the 29th floor. Cal walked in. He had just come back from a Christmas fête.

We made awkward small chat about the weather, his kids, the busy-ness. It was a long ride down. I was holding my breath the entire time and trying to carry on a conversation, almost fainting. I wondered what he was thinking, was he holding his breath too?

     His bowels had aired a turkey-cranberry combo that followed him into the lift joining us. He didn’t look embarrassed, so in the holiday spirit I looked embarrassed for him.

Inspired by ASA. Image by Shutterstock.

ASA

Even after all this time, I can still spoil my Christmas a little remembering the years where I had to spend every moment leading up to the holidays studying for exams and worrying myself sick about how I would do. Throughout high school, I’d invariably be suffering through the latest flu, laughing along with my fellow consumptives as the tissues piled up under our desks, ending an essay question on acetylsalicylic acid with the line: “. . . and boy could I use a couple right now!”
     In university the fear eventually moved to my bowels, and the chemistry was far more complex.

Inspired by Olive, the Other Reindeer. Photo from the collection of the National Museum of American History.