Life of Rafe
I always knew that Rafe was writing his memoirs, but today I actually found them. You may wish to read a few bits – they’re frightfully good:
from Chapter Eleven
Once I decided to be an architect, it was simple. All I had to do was learn what every building thing was called, and where the thing goes, and how to draw it with and without a roof. For example, that thing that sticks in the air. What is it called? And what does it do? It’s the Washington Monument, and it’s called a Pointy Guy. Then I drew up some plans for a new Pointy Guy for the local Chamber of Commerce. I was going to call it the Jones Monument, after Chones Jones, inventor of the tractor piece that connects the front to the back. He also invented the Tree Monitor, which is a string gate with a sensor on it. The sensor beeps when the tree moves. I have always found these devices useful.
from Chapter Fifteen
Once I decided to stop using this particular cough syrup, my acne cleared up and I found time for (several unintelligible sentences)... a terrible shock. I stopped going to public toilets at that point.
from Chapter Sixteen
When I discovered her real age, I was aghast! No, it couldn’t be that she was thirty-six! I thought she was sixteen, but then, I’d only ever seen her in the dark. She didn’t have a drivers license! She wore braces on her teeth! It was unfair, but what could I do? I returned her bowling shoes to her immediately. I also swore off blackberry brandy. Just when I thought the wounds had healed, there she was at my door with a pan of fried chicken! “Rhonda! What are you doing here? And with fried chicken!” I cried, as the tears rolled down my cheeks.
from Chapter Twenty-One
I woke near the hydrangea bush with my suitcase flung across my body. The last thing I remembered was the train carriage, and the intense halitosis of the woman opposite. I remembered getting off the train and walking the four miles to the Wilberforce-Packard estate, as nobody sent a car to gather me. Later that day, Esther asked me if I thought I had a drinking problem. I said no, and that I always make sure to pass out before I do anything stupid. She asked me if I remembered punching her horse in the face, or crapping on the settee like a common monkey. I said no, she must have me confused with somebody else. I could tell she didn’t believe me, so I decided to fix myself a sandwich.
from Chapter Eleven
Once I decided to be an architect, it was simple. All I had to do was learn what every building thing was called, and where the thing goes, and how to draw it with and without a roof. For example, that thing that sticks in the air. What is it called? And what does it do? It’s the Washington Monument, and it’s called a Pointy Guy. Then I drew up some plans for a new Pointy Guy for the local Chamber of Commerce. I was going to call it the Jones Monument, after Chones Jones, inventor of the tractor piece that connects the front to the back. He also invented the Tree Monitor, which is a string gate with a sensor on it. The sensor beeps when the tree moves. I have always found these devices useful.
from Chapter Fifteen
Once I decided to stop using this particular cough syrup, my acne cleared up and I found time for (several unintelligible sentences)... a terrible shock. I stopped going to public toilets at that point.
from Chapter Sixteen
When I discovered her real age, I was aghast! No, it couldn’t be that she was thirty-six! I thought she was sixteen, but then, I’d only ever seen her in the dark. She didn’t have a drivers license! She wore braces on her teeth! It was unfair, but what could I do? I returned her bowling shoes to her immediately. I also swore off blackberry brandy. Just when I thought the wounds had healed, there she was at my door with a pan of fried chicken! “Rhonda! What are you doing here? And with fried chicken!” I cried, as the tears rolled down my cheeks.
from Chapter Twenty-One
I woke near the hydrangea bush with my suitcase flung across my body. The last thing I remembered was the train carriage, and the intense halitosis of the woman opposite. I remembered getting off the train and walking the four miles to the Wilberforce-Packard estate, as nobody sent a car to gather me. Later that day, Esther asked me if I thought I had a drinking problem. I said no, and that I always make sure to pass out before I do anything stupid. She asked me if I remembered punching her horse in the face, or crapping on the settee like a common monkey. I said no, she must have me confused with somebody else. I could tell she didn’t believe me, so I decided to fix myself a sandwich.
4 Comments:
At this, I giggled - and it's Monday morning. I never giggle on a Monday morning. I believe that, particularly in chapters 16 and 21, Rafe has shown us the epitome of writing as high art.
Esther, I concur. Frightfully good.
I especially liked Chapter 15, where his readers are invited to fill in the blanks. It will take awhile, as it appears a lot is missing. Something about chicken heads belongs in there, though, of that I am pretty sure.
Pssst. Check your e-mail.
I resent the statement about the halitosis on the train. I distinctly remember using mouthwash that morning!
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