Musings of JR Simmang

DOUBLE, DOUBLE, TOIL, AND… YOU KNOW THE REST Three of them at "Oracles Den", a novelty, which made me feel uneasily like MacBeth. And here I thought they just left off the possessive apostrophe. “Welcome,” said the ugly one with the mole. “To,” said the one-eyed ugly one. “Your,” said the last ugly one, the one with the hunched back. “Futures,” they all said in unison. Theresa, my girlfriend, stood there, mouth agape but smiling at the women (?). I couldn’t help but chuckle. I whispered under my breath to Theresa, “just don’t ask me to kill a king…” She responded by elbowing me in the side. “Hello, ladies.” Theresa has always been fascinated with fortune readers. Last year at the carnival we stopped into no less than 10 different tents, each with the same archetypal psychics: flowing sleeves on patchwork dresses, stringy hair, wild eyes, voluptuous lips, missing teeth. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to scoot on out of here. They motioned for us to sit dow...

So, we (my wife and I) found out we are expecting a little bambino in March. I haven't said much about expecting a kid yet because I've been at a loss for words. So here goes nothing: 1) My wife is amazing. Brewing inside of her right now is a person, a person who will one day walk and talk, who will make friends and lose friends, who will have to make tough choices like whether or not to fall in love or stay home instead of walking the dogs. My wife is going through changes that would make me break down and cry. Daily. And yet, she smiles and laughs ... and is still ticklish. She's amazing. 2) I'm going to be a father, which I still can't wrap my head around. In 4 months, my child will be swaddled in my arms sleeping, pooping, eating, and then doing it all over again. I'm going to be pretending a spoon is an airplane. I'm going to be throwing a ball to expecting hands. I'm going to be giving the "birds and bees" conversation, yanking o...

A cinquain: SHE NEVER USED WORDS I’ve practiced in the mirror the looks that I had tried to avoid growing up under my mom. -JR Simmang

This poem is a runner up in the Writer's Digest April Poem-a-Day challenge. The form is the Lai, the French puzzle. It drove me crazy the first time I wrote one. TELL IT TO THE COAL MINER'S DAUGHTER Our winter lands, hindered hands, tools splintered, breath rendered bland. [Sic] Centered, filled by her sand. -JR Simmang

Forewarning: this one's a little weird. TWO BY TWO The third arm scratched my butt before I realized I had an itch, so I said thank you as if it were someone else. The fourth arm, the one sticking straight from my left nipple tipped over Roland’s water cup. “Dude, watch out!” He lurched forward to catch the glass before it shattered on the ground. “Sorry, man. Still trying to get used to this.” One arm out my nipple, the other out my back. He looked up at me, his lip curling upward, his eyebrows cocked. “Bro, you are messed up.” “Yeah. I know. Thanks.” The single wing sitting on top of my head flapped, downy raining down around my eyes. I inhaled a feather. “What the hell am I going to do with this? It could’ve sprung forth from my back, all majestic and shit, and instead an anemic chicken somewhere is flying around in circles.” Roland burst out laughing. “Well…” he took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to drink it all.” “Fuck you.” “Do it.” “No.” “DO it!”...

The last in a line of sea monster themed stories... for now. I saw her again on the tarmac, I tell myself again because no one is listening. Her blonde hair, her thighs, her elfin hands. Cypher sidles up next to me, and we’re off toward the SS Farborn. The helicopter makes its touchdown on the helipad, located aft, 2.3 hours later. We are greeted by a man in bright orange coveralls. He introduces himself as Sgt. Maj. Raleigh. “Come with me,” and he motions toward the cabin. I follow behind and squint back over the horizon as the sun shudders. The quick solution for seasickness, they say. Inside, Raleigh runs through the bells and whistles on the control panel. “This is the most advanced SONAR surveillance system to date. It can penetrate depths of 20,000 leagues [insert gratuitous Nemo joke], and no surface is clear of echo.” It sounds impressive. “Captain. It’s back.” He bows briefly to join the ensign at the readout. “The same blip?” “Yes sir,” he says. Portside,...

A light-hearted piece: Quanahoc Island. 2014. The water is murky, cloudy, dirty, no doubt the intention of some dastardly plan. I am submerged, isolated. Yet, I am the only hope for the planet. My captain, and only compatriot, has gone AWOL. I cannot blame him. Oh the humanity. HUMANITY! The water begins to boil underneath me. All over, tiny whirlpools dip and drop beneath the surface. I feel as though I am a salad being tossed by the sea. The first tentacles wrap up either side of the boat, and the line drops. Water seeps onto the prow. “No!” I cry. “Save yourselves,” I beseech. There is a tug again, and I resolve I must- “Ellis? Did you just shout something?” -fight back! I grab the shipboard axe, take a deep breath, and leap over the side! With one hack, I send a tentacle into the deep. That’s when I get a look at its face. IT’S HUMAN! I’m splashing all around me, my axe slamming into the tentacles as a moth does into a light bulb! And soon the water turns into ...