Probably the worst fight my father and I ever had was the time I called him a cliché. He stormed off to his den in the backyard and howled out there until one of the neighbors called the police.
For all of its problems, though, I can’t say there haven’t been some great things about having a dad who was raised by wolves. Camping with him has always been a lot of fun. Dad is great at hunting and tracking and running around aimlessly in the woods. And he is hilarious with squirrels. When I was a kid he was never strict about making me clean my room, which was nice. And he’s always been entertaining, especially if you give him some meat.
I am able to appreciate these things now, because about two years ago I started seeing a therapist. That’s helped me a lot. Shortly after starting therapy I joined a support group for people who have difficult parents. That’s where I met Melinda. Melinda’s mother was some sort of princess who met Melinda’s dad when he saved her from up in a tower or something. Anyway, Melinda can really relate to a lot of the things I’ve been going through. I mean, her mom lives in a small castle in their backyard.
Melinda and I recently started dating. For the first time in my life I feel like someone truly understands me. Things are going really well. Even my dad likes her. The other day he told me he thought she smelled right for me.
I’m doing a lot better these days. I’m coming to terms with my past, and I’m hopeful about my future. I know I’ll never fully understand my father, but we’re making strides.
I am who I am in a lot of ways because of my dad. I am proud to be Wolf Wolf. And even though sometimes I might feel like I’ve got it rough, I guess, when you think about it, everyone has crazy parents. Some were even raised by a pack of them.
Titles
GENERAL MARKS: Hello.
ALIEN COMMANDER: …
GENERAL MARKS: Well, I don’t know if you can understand me, but I would like to welcome you to our planet.
ALIEN COMMANDER: …
GENERAL MARKS: This is “Earth.” And we are a peaceful species known as “human beings.”
ALIEN COMMANDER: …
GENERAL MARKS: We humbly offer you these gifts as a gesture of—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Greetings. I am Commander Zego.
GENERAL MARKS: You speak English. Amazing. Greetings, Commander. Do you come in peace?
ALIEN COMMANDER: Who are you?
GENERAL MARKS: My name is General Marks. I am a five-star general and one of the highest-ranking military officers in the most powerful nation on Earth, the United States of America. Behind me are the most decorated leaders of every branch of our armed forces, along with a delegation of Nobel Laureates, cosmologists, biochemists, and—
ALIEN COMMANDER: My council and I demand to see the Supreme Leader.
GENERAL MARKS: Of course, Commander. I have already contacted the President, and he—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Miss Universe.
GENERAL MARKS: What?
ALIEN COMMANDER: Miss Universe.
GENERAL MARKS: … Uh—
ALIEN COMMANDER: I demand to speak with Miss Universe.
[Commander Zego hands General Marks an 8" × 10" glossy photo of Miss Universe.]
GENERAL MARKS: Oh. Um… well, Commander, I think you actually want to talk to the President. You see, he is the—
ALIEN COMMANDER: No.
GENERAL MARKS: But I think—
ALIEN COMMANDER: I am the Supreme Commander of an entire planetary system, General. I will not speak to the President. I will speak to Miss Universe, and to Miss Universe alone.
GENERAL MARKS: Commander, with all due respect, I think you may be confused. Miss Universe is not our leader. She is a pageant winner. This picture you’ve given me is a photograph from a pageant she won. She is not our leader. You want to speak with the President of the United States. He is our leader. Now, I’ve contacted him, and—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Silence.
GENERAL MARKS: …
ALIEN COMMANDER: You claim that this “President” is your leader and that he is so important, but tell me, General, how many presidents are there?
GENERAL MARKS: There is only one, Commander.
ALIEN COMMANDER: You are not being truthful with me.
GENERAL MARKS: I assure you, Commander, that this is the truth.
ALIEN COMMANDER: Well that is strange, because our intelligence indicates that there are many, many presidents on your planet.
GENERAL MARKS: Well… yes, but… I meant that there is only one for the United States.
ALIEN COMMANDER: Hm… And is there not a president of the Kiwanis Club?
GENERAL MARKS: Yes, but that’s a different—
ALIEN COMMANDER: And the Asbury Park Chamber of Commerce? And what about the Delta Delta Delta sorority? And the El Paso PTA?
GENERAL MARKS: Commander, I think you are misunderstanding—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Silence! I understand perfectly well. There are thousands of presidents. We know this to be fact—
GENERAL MARKS: But—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Is this not a fact!
GENERAL MARKS: Technically, yes, but—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Now, let me be perfectly clear. I will not speak with any of these “presidents.” Not today or ever. I don’t care if it is the President of the “United States” or of the “United Airlines.” Is that clear?
GENERAL MARKS: But, Commander—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Now tell me, General, how many Miss Universes are there?
[General Marks looks to an adviser for help. The adviser shrugs.]
GENERAL MARKS: (reluctantly) I guess just the one, but you must understand—
ALIEN COMMANDER: That is correct. You serve yourself and your people best by being honest with me. Heed my warning, General. If you try to divert us from Miss Universe anymore, we will take it as an act of aggression and have no choice but to engage with full force.
GENERAL MARKS: Commander, please—
ALIEN COMMANDER: Silence! I am growing weary of your games.
GENERAL MARKS: …
ALIEN COMMANDER: Now, you will bring us Miss Universe or you will suffer the consequences.
GENERAL MARKS: Uh. (deep breath) Okay. We will bring you Miss Universe. My advisers are locating her now.
ALIEN COMMANDER: Excellent. We will discuss our terms with Miss Universe then. Make haste, General, for the fate of your planet rests upon that meeting.
GENERAL MARKS: Oh boy.
My Band
Hey Everyone,
Just wanted to remind you that my band is playing tonight at The Living Room! Come check out the show. We go on at 10. Also, if you know anybody else who wants to get on our mailing list, please let me know. Thanks! See you tonight.
Josh
Dan,
Hey, buddy. Long time no see. I’m not sure if you got my messages, my newsletter, or the flyers I left under your door. Anyway, as I mentioned in my last couple of voicemails, my band is playing tomorrow night at Good Bar. You should definitely come check us out. The show starts at 8 pm. We go on at 11. I’ll be looking for you, man! I’m going to dedicate a song to you in the middle of our set, so you should really try to be there when I call you out. See you there, buddy!
Thanks in advance for coming,
Josh
Dear Rob’s Friends,
I’m psyched to be in charge of planning Rob’s bachelor party. Here’s the plan: First, we’ll all meet up at O’Malley’s at 9:00 and watch my band do a quick show. After my band plays, we can figure out the rest from there.
Stoked,
Josh
PS—I know the bachelor party is a “guys-only” thing, but you should feel free to brng anyone you know to the first part to see my band play.
Dear Katie,
I know things didn’t end well between us and that we agreed to give each other some space for a while, but I really think we should talk. How about Wednesday night? We can meet at The Cutting Room at 10:00. It’ll be good for both of us to finally sit
down and really talk, right after you watch my band. We go on at 10 pm. By the way, it’s a great night to see us (Battle of the Bands!). See you at the show.
Sincerely,
Josh
PS—I’ll bring those CDs of yours that you’ve been trying to get back from me for a while along with that sweatshirt that you thought you lost.
Dear Mrs. McIntyre,
I understand your concern about having Kevin’s intervention in a bar, but, just so you know, it won’t actually be in the bar. It’ll be in the back room, near the stage. I really feel that this is the best way to do it. First of all, confronting Kevin there will be a major surprise, which will only help the intervention. Second, I may have accidentally hinted to Kevin that the next time he comes home you might try to confront him (sorry about that). But, anyway, the Ace Bar is a place where I know Kevin feels safe, and it’s a place he won’t be avoiding for a while (unlike your house). By the way, I think my band may be playing there that night, starting promptly at 10:15. So, let’s all meet there at 10:00 just to be safe. I’m looking forward to helping Kevin. I even wrote a song about it that I think you’ll really enjoy. See you there!
Kevin’s friend,
Josh
Dear Michelle,
I’m so sorry for your loss. With Craig’s passing, this must be a very difficult time for you. One thing Craig had mentioned when he was still alive was how much he wanted you to see my band. We’re playing this Thursday. Why don’t you come (for him). I already put your name on the list so I’ll definitely see you there.
With Deep Sympathy,
Josh
Dearght="2em" width="0em" align="center">
FOUND: 1 dog. Fits description of missing dog exactly. To get dog back, meet me Wednesday at 11:30 pm at The Crown Bar. I will have the dog and will be there only during the band’s performance. Meet me while the band is playing and make sure to watch the band’s entire set. After that, I will be leaving the country and will probably take the dog with me.
Dear Eric,
Thank you for the wedding invitation. Unfortunately, I will be unable to attend. However, I will be playing with my band that night not far from where your reception’s going to be. You guys should come see us right after your wedding is done. I’ve already put tickets aside for you. Okay? Great. See you at the show, little brother. And, Kim, welcome to the family!
Counting on it,
Josh
PS—Maybe bring the wedding party too?
Hello. Is this the suicide hotline? All right, good. Well listen, I’m going to kill myself unless you and your entire staff come to my band’s show this Monday night. It’s at Jerry’s on Oak Street. Be there at 11 pm sharp. And, this time I’m serious.
Palindromes for Specific Occasions
GENTLY INFORMING A DJ THAT THERE IS A PROBLEM WITH THE SOUND SYSTEM:
No music is, um, on.
A GERMAN BOUNCER AT A GAY S&M BAR TELLING AN UNDERAGE CUSTOMER, WHO IS STANDING IN LINE, THAT HE CANNOT LET HIM ENTER THE BAR:
Ya, get an ID, robust, subordinate gay.
A FATHER TRYING TO CONNECT WITH HIS ESTRANGED SON BY OFFERING HIM SOME PIZZA:
Son, I’m odd. Domino’s?
THE HEAD BAKER AT A BAKERY INSTRUCTING A NEW EMPLOYEE ABOUT HOW TO DEAL WITH CUSTOMERS AND THEN SUDDENLY NOTICING WHAT THE NEW BAKER HAS MADE:< />
Snub no man. Nice cinnamon buns!
AN AMERICAN TOURIST ANGRILY CORRECTING HIS CAB DRIVER AFTER LANDING IN ITALY AND DISCOVERING THAT THE DRIVER IS TAKING HIM TO THE WRONG CITY:
No. Rome, moron.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A MAN AND HIS YOUNG SON. THE MAN IS TRYING TO TEACH THE BOY THE NAME OF A PIECE OF FRUIT AND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SINGULAR AND PLURAL:
—Son, say a papaya.
—Papayas.
—No “s.”
A BUTLER POLITELY ASKING THE YOUNG SON OF HIS RICH EMPLOYER TO GO TO THE BATHROOM AS HE GETS HIM READY FOR BED:
Emit debris, sir. Bedtime.
A COMMENT SAID TO A FRIEND ABOUT THE SIZE OF HIS OLD JEANS, AFTER HE’S LOST A LOT OF WEIGHT.
Massive Levis, Sam.
A SCIENTIST’S REACTION TO WHAT HE FINDS IN A PETRI DISH.
P.U.! Organisms in a group.
A GUY EXPLAINING TO HIS FRIEND HOW HE FEELS ABOUT OPERAS AS HE ACCIDENTALLY RUNS INTO A BEEHIVE.
See, bro, operas are poor—Bees!
A POEM ABOUT A LONELY MAN IN A STRIP CLUB, WHO CONTEMPLATES THE AGE-OLD BATTLE OF THE SEXES WHEN HE BECOMES INFATUATED WITH TWO OF THE CLUB’S DANCERS, TINA AND STELLA. AS HE WATCHES THE STRIPPERS, THE BOUNCERS WATCH HIM. SOON HE BEGINS TO LOSE CONTROL OF HIMSELF, PROPOSING MARRIAGE TO STELLA AND FONDLING TWO OTHER DANCERS. AT THE SAME TIME, HE STARTS TO DEVELOP A GNAWING SENSE OF SELF-AWARENESS, DISCOVERING THAT HE, LIKE THE OTHER MEN IN THE CLUB, IS AS MUCH A SPECTACLE AS THE VERY STRIPPERS THEY ARE WATCHING. STILL, HE CANNOT ESCAPE HIS OWN NATURE. AND WHEN HE FINALLY GETS TOO INTIMATE WITH ONE OF THE LADIES, SHE WALLOPS HIM WITH HER BOOBS, TURNING HIS THOUGHTS ABOUT THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES INTO PHYSICAL REALITY.
Sexes. Eh, the sexes.
Never even. Still, it’s DNA.
Never awed, I spot a boob.
O, wow! O, now two. Wow! O.K.
A still animal sits afoot: one vamp, a lap maven.
O, timid loser, I sedate ye.
Yes, live devil, as I tip it, it is.
I tip it. I peep it.
“Send a man a gross orgasm!
I am, Ms., a crass, base dud.”
Ah, supple holes made me dire.
Lame fate got old, a most ogled omen.
O, did I tap a tit? A pat? I did.
Boobs or pasties, a bosom… Mmm—
Uh oh—
“Ahem, pal!”
Fast, I toss a tip.
“Mr., ass?”: a warning.
I sat ogled.
O, men! O, me, to tame Tina!
To gits I’m all animal.
“Sit now,” I say, as I do.
“Got it!” A pull… up it now I peer… camise yonder I keep.
I tip, I riff, or on one post untied, I ring.
I say, “O boy! My, my, baby. Ticklish?”
Alas, a bossy baby. Ergo, nope.
Yes, I rise. Yes.
“Ah, can I flow on, Miss?” I hit it.
“Oh, madam!” Stress all astir oft.
“Ah, we’re too hot.”
Ah, we met a rebel god as animals.
I won’t nod. I’ll act.
Eyes open, I fall.
It’s w few, dim, all ill.
I’m in a man-made reverie, babe.
Now on one pole: Stella!
Ever I wonder, Miss, as I tip (also ten, if stiff).
It’s o so still. A creep’s eyes peer.
Call it so.
So stiff, it’s fine to slap. It is ass.
I’m red now.
I reveal, “Let’s elope!”
“No.”
Now one babe I revere.
Damn! A man.
I’m ill, ill amid we few still.
A fine pose yet call I don’t.
Now I slam in a sad ogle.
“Berate me!”
“What?” O, hoot. Ere? What for?
“It’s all,” asserts madam, “ho tit.”
I hiss, “I’m no wolf in a chase.”
Yes, I rise. Yep.
O, no. Grey baby’s so basal.
Ah, silk city baby, my, my. O boy, a sign!
I ride it, nuts open. On or off, I rip it. I peek.
Ired, no? Yes, I’m a creep.
I won’t. I pull up a tit.
“O God,” I say, as I won’t.
I slam, in all, a mist.
I got an item, a totem.
One model got a sign in raw ass.
Armpit. Ass. O, tits. A flap! Me!
Ha, ho, hum. Mmm. O, so base.
It’s a pro’s boob.
Did I tap a tit? A pat? I did.
One model got so mad.
Lo, to get a
female.
“Ride me, damsel.
O, help push a dude’s abs.”
Sarcasm maims a gross organ, a mad nest.
I peep. I tip it. I sit. I tip.
It is a live devil’s eye.
Yet a desire’s old. I’m it: one vamp, a lap maven.
O, too fast I slam.
In all, it’s a K.O.
Wow! Ow. Two now. Ow.
O, boob, a topside war.
Even and still it’s never even.
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