Author: Ergo, the Ogre

  • Haywire

    Where were you last night

    when it all went haywire?

     

    When our daughter had “big math” homework

    and you know

    I’m number-dumb?

     

    When your son’s buck teeth and stuttering

    became bully-magnets? When he came home

    black-eye angry in a tear-torn shirt?
    Where were you last night

    when dinner had been ready

    for two hours?

     

    When I flung it at the wall and

    the kids scattered like cockroaches?

    Spaghetti and burnt-stiff Italian sausage whirling

    in the overhead fan; noodles

    flailing like emaciated monkey arms in a jungle hurricane ―

    hopeless and grasping for

    imaginary bananas.

     

    Sauce splattering the walls like a Mafia hit.

    Where were you last night,

    When I finally snapped

    and snapped

    rubber-band sting-sharp?

     

    Where were you last night when I stopped

    at Tommy C’s and got so fucking wine-happy

    and tires skidding zigzags on asphalt

     

    Where were you last night?

     

     

    The Daily Post

  • When Phil Konstantin Didn’t Interview Susan Shuman

    Below is an abridged and edited (obviously) excerpt from Phil Konstantin’s interview with Stephen King. If Mr. Konstantin had interviewed me, this is how I’d have answered.


    I understand you don’t like to be asked why you write the kind of stories you do. Is this correct?

    Yes. I don’t know why I write what I write. It just happens.

    When did you start writing?

    I first put pencil to paper in the first grade the teacher insisted we learn the alphabet.

    <raucous laughter!>

    Seriously, though. I wrote my first real short story in the sixth grade. The teacher assigned the class to write a story in couple of paragraphs or so. Mine turned out to be three pages long. I couldn’t stop. Idea after idea came pouring forth.

    Do you have to be in a special mood to start writing?

    I’m at my best writerly self when I am angry, depressed, heartbroken and/or full of tears.

    Do you have a certain method that you use when you write?

    Not really. Inspiration comes at me from nowhere sometimes, and I just sit down and do it. Other times an event (in the news or my personal life) will trigger a fit of inspiration and I’ll think about it for awhile, kind of allow it to percolate, and then begin writing.

    Do you consider what you write “horror stories?”

    I do not, but many of my readers do find some my work most disturbing, dark, and even morbid. To me, it’s simply a recounting of slice of life, the crappy stuff that happens to people every day. Well, some of it. And maybe not every day…

    <chuckling>

    Would you ever participate in a séance?

    Yes, I would. And I have. The last time I was part of a séance was in, again, the sixth grade. It was a big year for me. Anyway, there was one restroom in our school that would lock, and that’s where my girlfriends and I would go during recess. When we should’ve been outside playing kickball or four square, my gang was locked up in a bathroom trying to make contact with the spirit world. It never worked. I’d like to try it again though, on a more serious level.

    Are you interested in psychics, ESP and similar areas?

    Yes, definitely. I learned to read Tarot cards while living in New Orleans. I was pretty good at it back in the day. I still have my cards but haven’t touched them in years. The only thing that scares me is the Ouija board. I will never go near one again.

    What is your personal feeling about reincarnation?

    I think we keep coming back until we get it right.

    In your own experience have you ever come across any ghosts, ghoulies or anything that goes bump in the night?

    Yes. I feel my mom’s presence every so often. It’s very comforting. I know many people on the other side and they visit from time to time.

    Do you get letters from people that say they have actually experienced things like what you write about?

    One time a disappointed reader wrote that he tried to incubate his own homunculus, and it didn’t work. He then to know where the Limbourg brothers’ grandmother had purchased their Homunculus Heroes kit.

    Do you think it is important to keep your readers guessing?

    Yes! I think that’s an important component to successful writing. Once your audience gets bored, you’re done. I also think it’s important to keep myself guessing.

  • Marooned

     

     

    This week’s writing prompt for the Shapeshifting 13 writing challenge is the word, marooned.

     ***

     

    Why can’t it be like it was in the beginning?

     

    You and me

    So young and

    happy and in love.

    We were a team and

    had each other’s backs

    before the secret phone calls and

    all the fighting and

    heartache and girlfriends

    boyfriends and lies

    broken dreams and yelling

    black eyes and broken bones—

    bruises on our hearts

    and broken on our faces.

    Before the eviction notices and cheap motels

    bourbon, weed, and meth,

    jails and half-way houses and

    counselors and therapists, marooned

    in treatment centers and

    out-patient programs…

    and especially before that

    mean slab of stone

    in the cemetery.

     

     

     

  • Bruno’s Lexicon & Cool Whatnots

    The Daily Post

    My dad was different.

    Susan Marie Shuman/Susan Writes Precise

     

    He wasn’t like any other dad I knew. In addition to being my one and only Da-Da, here are a few of the things that made Bruno, Bruno.

    1) When he went to his job as a Sheet Metal man each day, he carried his oily sardine sandwiches in a “lunch bucket” rather than a lunch box.

    2) Every June Dad took our small family on fishing vacations to Cranberry Lake in Eagle River, Wisconsin. We packed our clothes in “grips” instead of suitcases.

    3) We swam in “swimming tanks,” not swimming pools.

    4) Dad never got tired, but he did become “fagged-out” occasionally. This was confusing because he preferred smoking “fags” to cigarettes, but it wasn’t “fag” smoking that made him “fagged-out.”

    5) He yelled louder than a drill sergeant, but never raised and angry hand. There was no need; with a voice like his it would’ve been overkill.

    6) Dad was in the Signal Corp in the Army, which I assumed (as a kid) meant that he went around fixing traffic signals in foreign countries. He let me believe that, too, and I never thought much about it.  It was just a few years ago that I learned what the Signal Corp was, and the importance of the job he was assigned.

    7) My dad was a quite a dancer. He tried so  hard to teach me how to polka, but it was no use: even the Bunny-Hop challenges me.

    8) My dad was the best dad he knew how to be. He tried harder to be a good dad than I did to be a good daughter.

    9) I regret that.

     

  • Boy Bounces, So Does Story

    The Daily Post

    My brother was involved in an alleged hit & run accident in the Chicago area, on January 19, 1959. At the adorable age of 2 months, I was too young to remember the event, but after digging around in the Chicago Tribune Archives online and coughing up $9.95, this fascinating piece of family history is now in my hot little hands.

    Who knew? In fact, the Trib’s archives go back to 1852! I’ll bet there’s even more family fun to be discovered in the paper’s archives.

    Here’s the scoop: My brother Butch and his buddy Donald reported to police that when they had stopped to inspect a flat tire on Donald’s car, Butch was struck by a hit and run motorist driving a black 1958 Pontiac. My poor bouncing brother was tossed twenty feet, and then skidded another 30 feet. Luckily, the observant duo were alert enough to glean the first two  numbers of the perp’s license plate. Police became suspicious when they noticed that my brother’s clothes were not torn or even dirty.

    This is where the story began to fall apart.

    My dapper bro explained that he went home after the accident to change his clothes (brand new jeans were shredded) before visiting a girlfriend in Tinley Park. Butch always did have his priorities straight, for sure. When his muscles began to ache, and bruises appeared, the boys decided that they’d better come up with the above story before seeking medical attention. The boys were astute enough to know they’d lose parental favor but fast, if the truth about their failed “Man vs Machine” experiment came to light.

    Susan Marie Shuman/ SusanWritesPrecise

    What happened was that Butch and Donald were driving the latter’s car in a vacant field, and my bro became curious as to whether or not his feet could keep up with the speed of tires. So, Butch grabbed the bumper and Donald began driving slowly, then a little faster, faster, and finally the speedometer reached the speed of 40mph. Amazingly, Butch’s feet were not equal to the task. When this became apparent, he tried to climb onto the rear bumper to safety. Well, that didn’t work either: Bounce, bounce, bounce went Butch.

    It remains unclear as to why simply letting go of the bumper was not an option, but no matter. Butch was taken to the ER and later moved to “St. Francis hospital where he was reported in good condition.”

    My brother remains in good condition as I type.