Wrestling Flies

Phinneas, the current world heavyweight fly wrestling champion, pinned Hector “the Nectar Protector” to the mat and went in for the Pinned Wing submission hold, only recently taken off the banned move list and only then due to a clerical error. Hector buzzed in rage and spun hard, trying to shake his opponent free so he could fly to a better vantage and swoop in for the pin. Phinneas clung tight and spun with him, throwing the Nectar Protector off balance. Things weren't looking good for the underdog and people's champ. That's when Hector had his brilliant idea. Dragging Phinneas on his back, he charged for the edge of the mat. The rules said they couldn't be outside the ring for more than ten seconds without being disqualified, but that was plenty of time. He dove off the edge. With Phinneas pinning his wings, he couldn't fly, but if his opponent kept him in that hold, neither could Phinneas. It was a dangerous game of chicken they were playing as they plummeted to the floor. At the last second, Phinneas broke free, and Hector, who always made in aerial precision what he lacked size zipped in like a bullet toward Phinneas, who blinked first and changed course to avoid a head on impact. Hector used the moment to pull an immelmann turn and come in square on Phinneas. Inches above the table, Hector latched on to his opponent's wings and put him into the dreaded Pinned Wing. They both crashed, but at such a low altitude, Phinneas took the brunt of the crash, and Hector, triumphant, held the pin for the full ten seconds. He had done it. Hector the Nectar Protector was the new world heavyweight fly wrestling champion.

- Originally mailed to J. Germany of Biloxi, MS

The Good Space

Having been bound by a geis long ago, David Higgleson needed to park close to the front of wherever he went or a horrible doom would befall him, much as happened to Cuchulainn whose geasa to never eat dog meat and to always accept hospitality doomed him when he was forced to accept a dog meat dinner. But what could David do? He had wanted to see Red Eyed Monster play in concert for years, and there wasn't a parking space to be found anywhere by the time he arrived to the sold out show. Low on gas and half way through his tenth circuit around the massive parking lot, David came to a startling, life changing realization. His geis only demanded he park close to the front. It never said he needed a parking space. A two hundred dollar parking ticket, plus towing expenses was a lot better than downfall, doom, and death, he reasoned. Finding the closest spot to the doors he could, he maneuvered his car like a champ and made his way to the show.

He was not the least bit surprised when he found a parking ticket on his windshield after the concert, for such was the trade off for staying alive. He was, however, a little pleased with the note written by the cop who left the ticket, in which he praised David for parallel parking between those two trees like a real pro.

- Originally mailed to J. St. John of Picayune, Mississippi

Rival Insurance

Attorneys Jerry Goliday (“Putting the I in Goliday”) and Phyllis Meeks (“Seek Meeks – Inherit the Earth) realized they had stumbled upon a gold mine when rival insurance agencies set up shop on opposite ends of the building. For reasons no one could prove, the rivalry between Martell from Progressive and Helen from All State soon escalated into a full scale war of words, with each attorney comfortably kept on retainer. On a good day, Goliday and Meeks made small fortunes on out of court slander suits, sometimes as many as ten before lunch.

Within five short years, Goliday and Meeks made enough to have their dream wedding in the Bahamas and retire someplace sunny. Helen was sent upstate after shooting Martell for saying some things that were not so progressive.

- Originally mailed to C. Sawyer in Ocean Springs, Mississippi

Advice Wall

When a man finds himself stuck, he often seeks answers from a power beyond himself. Many pray, but there are other systems of mystical divination. The Chinese had the I Ching. Europeans had the tarot, the Norse their rune casting. Americans had the Magic 8-Ball. Down beneath the Exit 26 overpass just outside of Johnsonville stood the Advice Wall, a large expanse of concrete covered in words and phrases, painted on by kids long forgotten. Teenagers, who find themselves confused and needing guidance more than most, would follow the abandoned railroad tracks to the advice wall with a water balloon in hand, and pose their question to the sagely stone. Then, with their eyes closed, they would lob the balloon at the wall, and where the water hit, there they found guidance. Many swore by it, particularly Mayor Filmont, who as a kid fresh out of high school asked the wall what he should do with his life and was told, “iTs youR towN.”

- Originally mailed to P. Brown of Clovis, New Mexico

End of the World

There was a tree at the edge of the world that never seemed to grow and never seemed to die. It just stretched out into the emptiness beyond, bridging the gap between here and there, earth and sky. It became something of a rite of passage, a ritual for anyone who succeeded where all sense said they shouldn't to visit the tree. With published at long last manuscripts, with game-winning balls, with lovers well out of their league they would come and reflect and sometimes have their pictures taken, and they would shout beyond the cliffs, “You said the world would end before it happened, but here I stand at the end of the world, a success.”

- Originally mailed to C. Merritt of Juneau, Alaska