My Dream Documents – W4Paper

You were no-nonsense from the start, the both of you. “You owe a metric shit ton of money,” one of you muttered brusquely. “You are compelled by Law and Random Selection to appear for jury duty,” the other added, thumbs hooked through belt loops. You used all caps and stern language. You dropped phrases like “pursuant to statute” and “escrow account computation” like it wasn’t no thang. Your authority swept me off my feet. I know it’s not cool to be down with authority but without authority I’d probably never pay my mortgage or go to jury duty! What drew me most was that you both included little boxes printed with my current address. I found that, I can’t lie, superultra attractive.

I last saw the pair of you on my kitchen counter, sitting next to a greeting card depicting a bunny as a glitter-strewing fairy. The card was signed “Love, Aunt Pam and Boopsie.” I thought you’d find the glitter gauche, but I never believed you’d leave me over it. Yet as soon as I strode into the DMV and stood there on the industrial gray carpet, blinking under the fluorescent lights as a dozen people splayed across metal folding chairs slowly expired from boredom, I realized I was nothing without you. Seriously. Literally. Didn’t you read the hand-written note taped on the wall? It said, “Without adequate proof of address WE CANNOT HELP YOU.” The last part was underlined twice. It was maybe underlined three times. I couldn’t quite see it clearly through my tears.

I know we barely know each other but you’re my everything. You’re everything I need to get my lost driver’s license replaced. I hope that doesn’t sound too weird. I hope that doesn’t make me sound too needy. But I need you. At least one of you. One of you will do. Let’s meet for coffee and a romantic drive to a DMV in an industrial business park?

posted by: lyn
4/30/14

You Will Always Be My What If – M v. Squirrel

I was standing on the top of a ladder, trimming limbs off a tree next to the house with those things that look like a giant pair of scissors, like you’re Alice in Wonderland and you’ve just drunk the potion and now you’re tiny and everything is huge. I was trimming away when out of nowhere you rushed down the slope of the roof right towards my face. Even though you were literally a blur, I remember some distinctive features, such as fur. Brown fur. Probably teeth. I’m guessing sharp teeth.

I generally appreciate bold advances but in this case I was so startled that I hurled my giant scissors to the ground and slid down the tree like it was a fire pole. I have always wanted to slide down a fire pole but I would prefer if it wasn’t covered with bark. My inner arms look like I took a cheese grater to them.

We can never meet like this again. Please. I’m married. I’m also scared, even though you’re nothing more than a fluffy rat. I can’t talk about this anymore. This will be our last communication.

posted by: the beau
4/26/14

Damp ID @ De La Soul – Me4Me

I was at a show when we last locked eyes. You were lying on the bar top surrounded by water rings. You had a photograph of my own face on you, which I found charming even though I looked like a lump of uncooked dough in it. I was going to use you to get myself a whiskey ginger in a pint glass, even though I had already shown you off at the door and received a highlighter-yellow wristband for my troubles. I’d forgotten I had the wristband, probably because the drinks came in pint glasses. I wasn’t about to lodge a complaint, though. I had just hugged a rapper who used to be on the same label as DJ Shadow, and that is neither here nor there. Maybe the “there” of it is that I was a little distracted. I might have taken my eyes off of you for a minute. It doesn’t mean I didn’t love you, though, baby. When I turned away from the bar, I thought I felt something drop near my feet. I crouched among a forest of legs and groped around in the dark but it quickly became like one of those Halloween Feel Boxes with cold spaghetti for “worms” and grapes for “eyeballs” except in this case I was pretty sure this venue wasn’t selling spaghetti OR grapes.

The next morning I looked for some sign of you in my bag, and in my pants pockets. You were nowhere to be found. In your absence I’ve been forced to prove my age to bartenders and clerks with my passport like I’m trying to be international cool travel person when in reality I barely have any stamps in the damn thing. Once I get my hands on you again the only stamp I’ll put on you is DONOR, which is a program my mom said she admires but she wishes she could add one stipulation about them not taking her eyeballs.

posted by: lyn
3/16/14

Not the DMV but a reasonable facsimile

Not the DMV but a reasonable facsimile