My name is Mike Kandinsky and I manage a carnival. We tour the Midwest, mostly, and parts of Canada. My sidekick is Maude Lemon who used to be the bearded lady. We have a kid together–she’s living with Maude’s Aunt Polly in St. Paul. Maude shaved and changed careers and now manages a couple of the attractions.
Hurrah! The conclusion of An Actor’s Tale is finally here. And you who have waited with bated breath for the finale. It only appears long. It is not nearly as long as a game show or that last leg of a drive home when you can barely keep your eyes open. Continue reading
“I’m telling you this story because you are the only person I can trust not to judge me…
I was a soldier in the Russian Army. We were in a country which we were fighting since 1795, when Mother Russia was an Empire. Continue reading
Today he felt better than he did all week–having cleansed himself in an ocean of blood. The demons were gone–perhaps never to return. That in itself was well worth the effort. He could hear the screams of rancor and derision–spitting on his countenance in a fury of profanity…oh, they were angry. Continue reading
The following tale is the fourth in a series about the misadventure of a talented, Shakespearian actor. This chapter is in response to a flash fiction challenge and can stand by itself. Links to chapters 1-3 can be found in the “Related” section at the end of this post.
George Bernard Brainard was a born and raised Connecticut Yankee. By the time he reached thirty, he was a billionaire and he owned his own quaint village just next door to Mystic Seaport. His village was named Brainard, of course–his mother’s family name. Continue reading
Corruption can be defined in several ways such as depravity and decadence of one who is wicked. One’s tooth can decay and so can a radioactive isotope. A sleaze-bag can be crooked and a scum-bag can be guilty of misconduct. Continue reading
“That said, let’s move on to the next slide. Okay, one more. What is it Josephine?”
“What does it smell like…feel like? I mean, how often does a person get a chance to do what you did? Have you written anything about it?” Continue reading
“You smell terrible. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you after I bathe Roger and I take a shower. I’m beat right now….”
“You can’t come in. The storm knocked out the electric so you can’t take a shower. There are horse flies buzzing around you.” Continue reading
An Actor’s Tale is a serial piece about a young, popular and very gifted Shakespearean actor whose choice of stage name has given him, unsolicited, a title and a castle. For parts 1 and 2 see “Related” at the end of this story. Continue reading
Agatha Humphreys made her way backstage. No one knows how she did it. Perhaps it was the fog hiding her from inquiring eyes. Suddenly she was upon Edward, who she addressed as Sir Crimwell. Edward stood there waiting for the ax to fall. He was suspicious of her from the start. And well he should. Continue reading
Dexter Pinenter enjoyed reading Shakespeare, but he loved going to the plays. Eventually he became an actor–a well-paid, highly sought-after, Shakespearean actor. His favorite role was that of Hamlet. Dexter could do crazy at the drop of a hat. He could be mean; he could be funny; he could be dying; he could be slaying. But of all the characters he could portray, Dexter was at the top of his game as Hamlet. Dexter’s career was exceeding his expectations. He was a devout follower of himself. If he’d had a magic mirror he was sure it would affirm that he was the best actor of them all. Until that dull, dimwitted, British historian rolled in like an oily, thick fog…. Continue reading
I’ve got no one. I’m alone. I’m housebound. I’m in pain…constant, gnawing, gripping pain. Nothing works for the pain…I do not want to live like this any more. Let me die, then there will be no more pain…. Continue reading
Nazca Desert, Peru
“Yes, hello?”
“Ma, it’s me.”
“Me, who?”
“Very funny. You left a message. Said it’s very important?”
“Not too important, DeDe.”
“Ma, I’m in the middle of nowhere in the Nazca Desert, bouncing this expensive call off a satellite heading for Jupiter. What is it?” Continue reading
“Stewart are you in here?”
“What do you want, Whitney? Make it fast, I’ve got to take the Ferrari out for a spin. I tightened up a few things and I want to make sure they don’t come loose.”
“What things? Like what?”
“Whitney, if I told you, you wouldn’t understand. Let’s just say it had something to do with the steering distributor system, okay?” Continue reading
*
My name is Mike Kandinsky and I manage a carnival. We tour the Midwest, mostly, and Canada. It’s a substantial show, and while other carnies are trimming down, and cutting their venues, we just keep on growing. It all comes down to scheduling and demographics. And a nephew in economics at MIT doesn’t hurt. Continue reading
“Name.”
“Sir Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill.”
“Date of Birth.”
“November 30, in the year of our Lord…ah…ah…1924.”
“Are you sure about that? I have here that you were born in 1874.” Continue reading
“What is it Zola? Let me see what you have there. Oh, crap. Your cat is being held for ransom? What is that about, girl?” Continue reading
“Well, He does work in mysterious ways. Seems like it’s all here. Wherever did the penniless Lucas Vang get $7000 cash?”
“I suppose that’s a rhetorical question, Mr. Snake, so I won’t bother answering it.”
“Suit yourself. We’re done. Take your fine self out of here. See he leaves, Guido.” Continue reading
The following is a broadcast transcript
Now the news from Lapland, Finland
“I’m here with Mrs. Rose Shapiro…”
“Mrs. George Shapiro, honey.”
“Right, Mrs. George Shapiro, a widow from Brooklyn, New York who, along with her son, David, have been touring the Scandinavian countries…” Continue reading
The following is the continuation of a flash fiction story entitled “The empowerment of Bernice”. In this first story, Bernice, a vintage, Maytag Washer is given sentience by a Higher Power and is adopted by Joe Stalin, who is aware of Bernice’s sentience…. Continue reading
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Littledog: “Hey, you with the Princess Leia…thingies. Whataya in for?”
Bighorn: “I’m in for the day, actually.” Continue reading
Bernice was a fine-looking washer–a vintage Maytag wringer in pristine condition. Years ago, the lady of the house acquired the Maytag, hardly used, when her grandmother passed. Continue reading
Dear Liz:
Here are the rest of my notes–faxed per your request. I really can’t do another piece on him. You were right. I walked the line. Thanks for letting Lynn do the piece. And, thanks for being my friend, not just my editor. Continue reading
“Take a seat, we’ll be leaving as soon as the pilot arrives. If he is not here in pi minutes then I will pilot the vehicle and require you to buckle up with full body restrainers…” Continue reading
Arthur Arensdorf and 11 other members of a jury of peers, convicted Richard Nixon’s grandfather, Dick the trickster, who lived 525 years ago, for gross negligence which led to the suicide death of Leonard Hoffman, former owner of the Watergate Tavern and Inn. Continue reading
Archie McLeod was speechless. He could see now why his granddaughter loved her job. When they got back to Spokane, Archie went to his room and quickly called his old friend, Dick Morehouse…
“I’d seen some big ones in my time, but this one…this one was huge!”
“Come on, Archie. Nothing’s as big as old Herb.” Continue reading
“Captain Hong? Can you see this on your screen? It’s on Hatch 3.”
“Roger that, Albright. Looks like an insect of some kind. It’s big!”
“I can see it on my heads up. It’s 45.7 cm in length. It’s a foot and a half long, Hong! Anyone got a can of RAID?” Continue reading
My name is Mike Kandinsky and I manage a Carnival. We travel the Midwest, mostly, and Canada (see: A soliloquy). At the time of my story, we were still hunkering around the heaters, waiting out the frigid winter, getting set for our Season. Oh, and Maude Lemon, our bearded lady, decided she wanted a career change. Continue reading
“That’s $10, Sylvia. That’s a big cookbook. It’s in good condition.”
“It has all sorts of yummy recipes, Karen. Thanks so much.”
Sylvia Kronenberger supported the local charities as much as she could on a teacher’s salary. The cookbook was a real find. Someone had collected monthly, laminated, recipe pages which were placed in the lovely, custom binder. Continue reading
the EXCESSIVE GARDENER 