Mostly Autobiographical

by Rob Gunther

  Birthday parties and Power Rangers piñatas

  When I was a little kid, all I ever really wanted was a big birthday party with a piñata. I pictured all of my friends taking a shot at it first, blindly swinging away but nobody really doing any significant damage. Then it would be my turn, the birthday boy going last. I’d walk right up and take a huge swing, perfectly placed, dead-on in its accuracy. The whole thing would just explode, candy showering down everywhere, everybody cheering, chanting my name, dancing around in the downpour of individually wrapped sweets.

  Obviously that’s kind of a difficult fantasy to make happen in real life. There are so many variables out of my control, like all of the other kids. I wasn’t the smallest kid in my class, but I definitely wasn’t the biggest either. And in terms of skill? Of being able to accurately swing a stick, blindfolded, and crack it open on the first try? Yeah, I could think of like five other kids who would’ve had a better chance at that than me.

  But my whole plan, to actually set it up, I could only hope do the best I could and leave the rest up to chance. I guess I could have acted like a spoiled little birthday brat and told everybody to miss it on purpose, watching them carefully as they all went first, having a mini breakdown temper tantrum if anyone started swinging too close. You know, starting a little screaming fit, just being totally obnoxious, and then for my turn I could have had them lower the piñata to my exact specifications, could have myself a custom blindfold that only looks like a blindfold, like you’d think I’d be blinded, but I’d actually be able to see everything. And then even if I missed, or if I hit it but it didn’t break apart immediately, I’d start whacking it again and again, until that candy shower that I was talking about before … yeah, I wouldn’t want to do that. That wouldn’t have felt right. It wouldn’t be that organic moment of pure joy I was dreaming about. Plus my mom would have never put up with me acting like such a huge baby.

  My birthday was coming up, and my mom let me have a party in the backyard. Maybe I’d have like a birthday party guardian angel watching over the whole fiesta, making sure my friends couldn’t swing or that they could swing but they’d miss totally. Or they wouldn’t miss totally, but their whacks wouldn’t do anything, wouldn’t even make the piñata move at all. It would be like hitting a tree, or a piece of steel. Maybe that would happen.

  I was really into the Power Rangers at the time, and I really wanted a piñata of Tommy, the Green Ranger. Tommy wasn’t one of the original five. In fact, he was evil. Like, Tommy the person wasn’t evil, but Rita Repulsa used him as a vessel for the evil inherent in the evil Power Ranger medallion that then turned him into the evil green Ranger. Get it?

  What I was getting at was that I really wanted a Green Ranger piñata, but he wasn’t an original Ranger – even though he wound up overcoming the evil and joining the Power Rangers as the sixth Ranger – so the piñata store didn’t have a green one on hand. Just the classics: red, yellow, blue, black, pink. I picked out the blue one, thinking I could just customize it, make it green myself.

  It came out OK. It didn’t exactly look green. It looked green, kind of, but you could still totally see the blue underneath. I made the special golden Green Ranger shield, so, you know, maybe the parents didn’t get what was going on, but all of my friends, they got it. They were like, “Wow! Rob! That’s so cool! Where did you get a green Ranger piñata?”

  So far, so good. Everybody lined up. Mark went first, definitely the biggest of my classmates. I figured, universe, or God, I guess I still believed in God when I was a little kid, I was like God, just let Mark miss, and I’ll be all set. My mom tied the blindfold really tight. He stepped up. Whack!

  Direct hit. Mark knocked it right in the homemade chest plate. It was like all of the green came off first, so it was this blue-green, mostly blue explosion. And Mark was just standing there, getting showered in candy by himself. And he didn’t even realized it at first, but as soon as he did, he untucked his shirt and held it out underneath the candy shower, just collecting so much candy, the lion’s share, all of the good stuff. Then when it stopped he ran off to some corner, he hadn’t even taken off the blindfold yet, and he sat down and started in on his loot. Everybody else kind of just ran to the grass to see what was left. Then some of the parents started clapping, we had cake, and then everybody went home.

  I’d just hate to trouble you

  I really must be going. It’s … it’s my dog, he really needs a walk. And, please, I wouldn’t want to put you through any more trouble. It’s just that, I’m unused to such hospitality. No, I loved the appetizers. I felt bad eating any more than I’ve already eaten. You see, I … my grandmother is Norwegian, and she instilled upon me at a very early age how important it is to never go over someone else’s house and eat a lot of appetizers. I know, I know, it really doesn’t apply here. It’s just that, you know, it’s in my DNA now. It’s like a reflex. Please, OK, I’ll have one more appetizer. See? Mmm. That’s good. What is this, salami? Mortadella? I can never really tell the difference between all of those cured meats.

  No, I don’t want your son to walk to my house to take my dog out. That’s crazy. I mean, it’s a very nice offer. I just … how could I accept such generosity? It’s too late for him be out walking around by himself. Sure, things were different when we were little kids. But there are a lot more wackos out there than there were back then. Plus, my dog, he’s not good with kids. And I don’t think he’s had his shots. I mean, I don’t think he’s rabid or anything. I hope not. It’s just that, I got one of those cards from the vet last week. I think he’s like a month or two overdo. Better safe than sorry, imagining your son were to make it to my house without getting abducted.

  Look, I’m just saying, there’s a lot of potential for danger, and I couldn’t live with all of that guilt, not on my account, not after you’ve gone through such trouble here. What a lovely spread. What delicious sopressata.

  You’re sister-in-law is a vet? That’s terribly nice of you to recommend her services but … no … please, Jerry, put down the phone. No, look I have a vet. I’m very happy. Well, my vet’s a family friend also, or a friend of the family. A different friend, but yeah, come on, put down the phone, don’t bother your sister-in-law. What is she going to just drop what she’s doing and do a vaccination house call? That’s … it’s wildly unnecessary.

  You know what? Here, give me another one of those … mmm … I’ll just walk him a little later. Yeah, he’s good. Please, tell your son to take off his coat. Hey buddy, look, my house is locked. You’re seriously … you’re unbelievably kind, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate your going out of your way for me it’s just. It’s just … it’s my brother. He’s … he’s having a bit of legal trouble. I hate to bore you with any details. Let’s just say he’s hiding out for a little bit. In fact, I think I better check up on him. I was supposed to make sure he took his medication.

  And he’s terrible with dogs. I have to keep them in separate rooms. And besides, if Junior were to knock on the window and scare my brother, well, he’s very easily startled. There’s no telling what would happen. You know, with the legal troubles and all. I’ve said too much. Which is why I hope you can understand I can’t stay for dinner. I really … I’m so happy you think so highly of me, but I was really just here to pick up these papers. I’m glad you had them on you. So I’ll just get them back to you tomorrow at the office, all right? Please. No, yes … no, you’re brother doesn’t work for the DA’s office, does he? Oh yeah, I do remember you saying something. No, Jerry, put the phone down. Come on. All right, OK, I’ll stay. I’ll stay, yeah. OK. But I’ve got to get home and get to these papers. You know how it is, right? Jerry, no thanks, I can’t eat any more prosciutto. It’s not … no, I love it. It’s just so salty. I can’t even feel my lips anymore, man.

  The magical properties of crystals are real

  I was never one of those people who believed in crystals, in minerals and rocks. I mean, I believe that they exist, bu
t, you know what I’m talking about? How some people really believe certain rocks have like, special properties? Yeah, I always used to think that stuff was pretty wacko.

  I used to.

  Now I actually believe in all of it, because it’s all true. I’ve had some real experiences, some really real experiences, and it’s all totally real.

  Like, one day I was out taking my dog for a walk in the park. And I came upon this rock, I mean, yeah, rock, crystal, I’m not too sure of the exact terminology, mineralogy. But it was shiny. On one side it was shiny. But I couldn’t see the shiny side, not yet. The shiny side was down, and on the face-up side it just looked like a regular rock.

  What am I doing, just randomly turning over rocks in the park? No, this one had a ten dollar bill sticking out from underneath. I thought, jackpot. Or not jackpot, but, you know, bonus. Definitely bonus. I went to reach for it and, I don’t know why I didn’t just pull out the bill from underneath, because I didn’t. Maybe I didn’t want to get my hands dirty, I don’t know. I decided to kick the rock off of the bill and then pick up the money.

  And when I kicked it, it flipped over, and that’s when I realized that it wasn’t a rock, or, whatever, again, not too sure on the specifics of what you’re supposed to call it, but it was really shiny on the other side, like a crystal, like a magical crystal. I thought of all of those crazy minor celebrities that you see on TV all decked out in rocks, and they’re always really wide-eyed and saying stuff like, “No seriously! This stuff is seriously, seriously magic! Not magic, but spiritual! Like powerful!”

  And you just think, wow, that person is nuts.

  But I was picking up this ten dollar bill and caught myself just staring at this crystal lying now face up like two feet away from me. And my dog was staring at the crystal also, and my dog never stares at anything, because he’s so stupid. Or, that’s actually kind of harsh. He’s not stupid. Well, by human standards maybe he’s stupid, but that could be intelligent for dogs, I don’t know. You know how they’re always just like digging and sniffing and stuff? Not this time. This time he was just staring at the magic crystal.

  And I never like jumping to conclusions, but this time it was like my mind was operating on a different frequency, and so jump to conclusions I did, and the conclusion I jumped to was: this is a definitely a magical crystal. I had to stop myself from staring, because I started to worry that somebody else would see it, that they’d maybe make a move for it or try to fight me for it or something. I’d have fought me for it.

  So I picked it up, and the magic started pulsing through my veins. I looked down at the ten dollar bill, and it wasn’t a ten dollar bill at all. It was a twenty. Did that really just happen? I couldn’t be sure. Did the crystal change it to a twenty? Or did I just kind of shove the ten in my pocket, and then maybe when I took it out again, because I don’t really have a wallet, because I’m just always shoving money in my pockets, maybe I accidentally grabbed a twenty? I don’t think that’s what happened.

  I ran home and decided to turn it into a magical crystal necklace so the power source could be close to me, to my heart, so maybe I’d be like projecting magical energy out into the universe, and then back into me, like a conduit, like a spiritual, magical magnet. But I walked in my house and realized I didn’t know the first thing about making jewelry out of rocks. I didn’t even know where I could find a pair of scissors. I must have had scissors somewhere, maybe, like in a desk drawer or in the back of a closet. But I can’t remember the last time I needed scissors. Usually I’ll just rip whatever I need to cut, a piece of paper, some cardboard, or if it’s too hard, like a piece of plastic used to keep the price tag on a new pair of pants, I’ll just get a kitchen knife and slice it. Or, one time I used nail clippers, and that worked, like it cut the plastic, but it ruined the clippers. There was this groove in the blade, and every time I cut my nails it made a little bump. I had to throw them away.

  That’s beside the point. I forgot about the scissors because my mind started to wander. How am I going to attach this crystal to a necklace? I found some shoelaces. Well, I didn’t find them, I used an old pair of shoes and took the laces off. Should I wrap it around the crystal? I tried that but it looked terrible, it covered part of the crystal, and there wasn’t any string left over to wrap around my neck.

  I took out my drill. I actually have a pretty nice drill. I never get to use it because, I don’t know why, I just never need it, but I was pretty glad that I had it right then. I figured I’d make a tiny hole through the top, just so I could string the shoelace through. But as soon as I started to drill, a huge chunk broke off the crystal.

  And I was like, shit, did I break it? Obviously I broke it, physically, but did I break the magic? Were the special properties still intact? I looked in my pocket but all I could find were a bunch of five dollar bills. No twenties. Not even any tens. I must have pissed it off. I tried gluing it back together but no dice.

  So now it’s just like, I feel unluckier than ever, like even further removed from the natural spiritual powers of the earth. And I keep taking my dog for more walks, trying to find more crystals, but he’s even wilder than before, almost feral, he keeps pulling at his leash, digging holes furiously. One time this park ranger came over and was like, “Hey buddy! Get your dog under control! Stop letting him dig like that or I’ll write you up! I’m serious!”

  These comic books don’t make any sense

  I’m always thinking about comic books, about superheroes, and I know it’s really nerdy to ask questions, to point out inconsistencies, but sometimes I can’t take it anymore. I need to bring this stuff up. I can’t enjoy the stories because these glaring problems are stuck right in the forefront of my mind.

  Like Spider-Man, right? Just try getting past the fact that if he wanted to do some serious good, he could’ve sold his webbing device to a huge company, he could have made billions on his inventions. With those profits, he could have financed, like, a professional crime fighting operation. Think about what Batman did with his billions. He bought all sorts of ridiculous stuff. But Spider-Man’s always thinking too small, just using his webbing to get from point A to point B, living in poverty, barely scraping out a living.

  OK, forget about that. Just accept the fact that he’s this scientific genius that can’t figure out how to make any money. What about his wall-crawling powers? How are those supposed to work? Like, in the Spider-Man movies, it’s these little microscopic spider claw things that come out of his skin, which I don’t buy, because if I did buy it, what happens when he puts on his costume? Those micro-claws are supposed to be able to get through the material and then cling onto whatever it is he’s crawling up? Sorry, I can’t believe it. It doesn’t make any sense.

  Let’s go back to Batman for a second. Don’t think he’s getting off just because I was commenting before on how wisely he spends his money, buying all of his bat-equipment, his bat-planes, and bat-mobiles, and bat-cycles, and bat-copters. My problem is, OK, sometimes the police are after him, like think about the second Batman movie. Right? And they’re like, “Who is Batman? Why can’t we figure this out?”

  And I’m just like, are you serious? Get a police helicopter or a police plane or something, or call up the army and have them put one of those drones in the sky, right? And just point a bunch of cameras or satellites down at the earth, and the next time Batman takes his giant car or plane or experimental water skis out for a spin, just follow it wherever it goes. It’s not that hard. We live in a really sophisticated world. The police could watch the bat-mobile driving away to some hole by the road. OK, now go check that road out. Now call for backup. There you go, that’s the bat-cave. It can’t be that hard.

  It’s the same with the X-Men. Where the hell are you going to get some giant, invisible, supersonic airplane? And the air traffic controllers, what, they don’t see any blips on their equipment when they’re directing traffic? Cyclops, like what kind of flight training does this guy have? How come he’s never c
rashing into any other planes? And again, the military doesn’t notice these jets everywhere? You’d think they’d see it immediately and get on it, find out where it is, who owns it. Is it the Russians? The Chinese? Terrorists? No, it’s the fucking X-Men, but still.

  And while I’m on the X-Men, come on, so Cyclops can blast laser beams from his eyes but what, his eyelids don’t get blown off? And Wolverine, whatever, you’ve got metal bones and you don’t age, fine. But what’s with that haircut? What kind of a person wakes up in the morning, sees that both sides of his hair stick straight up in these weird spikes, and thinks to himself, huh, OK, that’s a pretty good look. What, and then he designed his costume to make sure that those spikes stayed in place? What kind of a statement is he trying to make? I don’t understand.

  I don’t get why the Green Lantern’s powers don’t work against the color yellow. Isn’t the color green just a mix of the colors blue and yellow? So how can green even work at all if it’s really just half yellow? And what about orange? That’s half yellow also. What about when he has to pee? That’s yellow. Does it hurt coming out? Does it take away from his powers? The sun’s yellow. How is he able to walk around outside during the daytime without getting hurt?

  How is the Flash able to breathe when he’s running so fast? How are his shoes not wearing out every time he runs a couple of laps around the world?

  How is Mr. Fantastic’s costume able to stretch exactly like Mr. Fantastic stretches? What is it, painted on?

  How come Ice Man isn’t soaking wet every time he de-ices? What, does it go from ice to air? How does it do that without going to liquid first?