[Bananafish] A New Contest:

[Amanda]

It was his life and he refused to work for nothing.

Vancouver was ten, fifteen hours on down the road. The
Golden arches were miles back. He'd been comforted by
the industrial yellow glow that lit the night sky. No lights
flickered now. He was alone on the road. Radio voices cut
in, out. And Vancouver was a long way to go for a welfare
check but he needed one. He should have slept at the 88
Motel but he'd had no money for one more night's stay.
He grabbed his pack from the dash, stuck a player's in his
mouth, then put his hands back on the wheel.  He drove
through a thick white haze just as a heavenly choir broke
static on the radio. Shop Sm-a-a-r-ttt and S-a-a-ave. He
drove a graceful curve where black rocks  jutted up one
side, opposite a cavernous decline. And then a deer leapt
out onto the road. Joe saw the deer's wide brown antlers
and tawny flank before he felt the thud of collision. He
grappled with the wheel as the car slid white irregular
channels toward the cement barrier that marked the
descent to trees. His heart banged in his chest. The pine
trees flew past him. And Joe whispered, "Sacre Bleu."
as he felt himself disappearing into the dark infinity
beyond...

On Wed, Apr 2, 2008 at 3:14 PM, Michael Anello <michaelanello at gmail.com>
wrote:

> don't you have an ironic bone in your body, daniel?
>
> -mike
>
> On Wed, Apr 2, 2008 at 3:06 PM, Yocum, Daniel R Civ USAF AFSPC 21 CES/CEOE
> <daniel.yocum at peterson.af.mil> wrote:
>
> >
> > The spring melt comes on after an especially high snow pack on Mt.
> > Ascutny.  The soil is saturated, the runoff pours into the Connecticut
> > River.  The water rising, Hank down at the Powers' Country store closes
> > early so that he can make it home across the old covered bridge.  Jerome
> > stands on the bank of the river, soaked in the downpour watching the
> > banks erode away carrying trees down with the flow.  It reminds him of
> > the Hurtgen forest and all those blasted tree tops.  He climbs behind
> > the wheel of his idling Jeep and fish tails as he climbs up the bank
> > onto the road.
> >
> > The old covered bridge is shuttering under the force of the bulging
> > river.  "Beautiful" he whispers under his breath as he accelerates
> > towards the bridge.  A large mat of stripped tree trunks approach the
> > pilings.  The bridge shutters as the island of Pines hit the bridge; his
> > knuckles whiten as the bridge is washed away in the rear view mirror.
> >
> > The Jeep stalls in the wheel high water overflowing the roadway bar
> > ditch.  Jerome climbs out and draws up the collar of his camel hair coat
> > and slips on his khaki green wool gloves.  The current staggers him and
> > he goes down two, three times before reaching the front door.  His
> > breathing is ragged and shallow, every intake of breath lights his lungs
> > on fire.
> >
> > The door won't close; the water is too high and rushing too fast.  He
> > abandons the door as he sees the water rising in the house towards the
> > steel door of the vault.  Without another breath he staggers into the
> > vault pulling the door closed behind him. The water continues to rise in
> > the vault despite the closed door.  The cardboard bank boxes from the
> > lower shelves start to float.  They tip and rock in the swirling water
> > as it rises.  The files float out of the boxes covering the surface of
> > the rising water.  Jerome shoves the sodden papers away, they cling to
> > him taking possession of him, the water rises. Layer upon layer of white
> > bond paper, each passed through a Smith Corona cling to him like heavy
> > wet snow or thick ashes.  The water rises to his chin, gasping he
> > inhales full size spit balls.  Gagging he goes under at about the same
> > time the water reaches its high mark.
> >
> >
> > Three days later they find him entombed, covered full body in a paper
> > Mache Death mask.  The paper Mache Mummy is on display in New York, a
> > roadside attraction with small caged animals, an ice cream stand, and
> > some carnival rides. Behind a thick piece of gouged and nicked glass, it
> > is set near the carousel. On the concrete base written with a red
> > sharpie someone scribbled "Fuck You".
> >
> > Daniel
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > Write a scenario imagining the most ironic death J.D. Salinger could
> > suffer...
> >
> > Jim
> > _______________________________________________
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>
>
>
> --
> Two amoeba walk out of a bar.
> One amoeba says to the other, "Say, is that the sun or the moon?"
> And the other amoeba says, "I don't know, I don't live around here!"
>
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