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The Gift
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Current song lyrics
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit.<br />It was now mid-August which meant that he had been separated <br />from Marsha for more than two months.<br />Two months, and all he had to show were three dog-eared letters <br />and two very expensive long-distance phone calls.<br />True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin <br />and he to Locust, Pennsylvania she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity.<br />She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement.<br />She would remain faithful. But lately Waldo had begun to worry.<br />He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams.<br />He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his printed quilt protector, <br />tears welling in his eyes,<br />As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome <br />by liquor and the smooth soothings of some Neanderthal,<br />Finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. <br />It was more than the human mind could bear.<br /><br />Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him.<br />Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts.<br />And the thing was, they wouldn't understand who she really was.<br />He, Waldo, alone, understood this.<br />He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche.<br />He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't there. (Awww.)<br />The idea came to him on the <br />Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear.<br />He had just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar-fifty<br />And had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha.<br />There was nothing more than a circular form the <br />Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awning needs.<br />At least they cared enough to write.<br /><br />It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in<br />the mails. Then it struck him: he didn't have enough<br />money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,<br />true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly<br />simple. He would ship himself parcel post special<br />delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket<br />to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought<br />masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized<br />cardboard box, just right for a person of his build.<br />He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could<br />ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, a<br />selection of midnight snacks, and it would probably be<br />as good as going tourist.<br /><br />By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly<br />packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up<br />at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "FRAGILE"<br />and as he sat curled up inside, resting in the foam<br />rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried<br />to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marsha's<br />face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped<br />the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo<br />finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then<br />maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of<br />this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package<br />and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud<br />in a truck and then he was off.<br /><br />Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It<br />had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember<br />not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it<br />though. After it was over he'd said that he still<br />respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way<br />of nature and even though no, he didn't love her, he<br />did feel an affection for her. And after all, they<br />were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo --<br />but that seemed many years ago. Sheila Klein, her<br />very, very best friend walked in through the porch<br />screen door into the kitchen. "Oh God, it's<br />absolutely maudlin outside."<br />"Ugh, I know what you mean, I feel all icky." Marsha<br />tightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silk<br />outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt<br />grains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and<br />made a face.<br />"I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," she<br />wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing<br />up."<br />Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an<br />exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even<br />talk about that." She got up from the table and went<br />to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and<br />blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than<br />steak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don't<br />think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up<br />and sat down, this time nearer the small table that<br />supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she<br />said to Sheila's glance.<br />Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I<br />thought maybe you'd be through with him."<br />"I know what you mean. My God, he was like an<br />octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured,<br />raising her arms upward in defense. "The thing is<br />after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you<br />know, and after all he didn't really do anything<br />Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you<br />know what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila<br />was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell<br />you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," she<br />bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to," and now she<br />was laughing very loudly.<br /><br />It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence<br />Darrow Post Office rang the door bell of the large<br />stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson<br />opened the door, he helped her carry the package in.<br />He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed<br />and left with a fifteen-cent tip that Marsha had<br />gotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book in<br />the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked.<br />Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. S<br />he stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in<br />the middle of the living room. "I don't know."<br /><br />Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as<br />he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her<br />fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the<br />center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the<br />return address and see who it is from?" Waldo felt<br />his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating<br />footsteps. It would be soon.<br /><br />Marsha walked around the carton and read the<br />ink-scratched label. "Ugh, God, it's from Waldo!"<br />"That schmuck," said Sheila. Waldo trembled with<br />expectation. "Well, you might as well open it," said<br />Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the stapled flap.<br /><br />"Ahh, shit," said Marsha groaning. "He must have<br />nailed it shut." They tugged at the flap again. "My<br />God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened."<br />They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" They<br />both stood still, breathing heavily.<br />"Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsha<br />ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a<br />little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her<br />father kept a collection of tools in the basement.<br />She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a<br />large sheet-metal cutter in her hand.<br />"This is the best I could find." She was very out of<br />breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank<br />into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily.<br />Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape<br />and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too<br />big and there wasn't enough room. "Godamn this<br />thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then,<br />smiling, "I got an idea."<br />"What?" said Marsha.<br />"Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her<br />head.<br /><br />Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with<br />excitement that he could barely breathe. His skin<br />felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart<br />beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila<br />stood quite upright and walked around to the other<br />side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees,<br />grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath<br />and plunged the long blade through the middle of the<br />package, through the middle of the masking tape,<br />through the cardboard, through the cushioning and<br />(thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head,<br />which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs<br />of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.
New song lyrics
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit.<br />It was now mid-August which meant that he had been separated <br />from Marsha for more than two months.<br />Two months, and all he had to show were three dog-eared letters <br />and two very expensive long-distance phone calls.<br />True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin <br />and he to Locust, Pennsylvania she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity.<br />She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement.<br />She would remain faithful. But lately Waldo had begun to worry.<br />He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams.<br />He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his printed quilt protector, <br />tears welling in his eyes,<br />As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome <br />by liquor and the smooth soothings of some Neanderthal,<br />Finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. <br />It was more than the human mind could bear.<br /><br />Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him.<br />Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts.<br />And the thing was, they wouldn't understand who she really was.<br />He, Waldo, alone, understood this.<br />He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche.<br />He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't there. (Awww.)<br />The idea came to him on the <br />Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear.<br />He had just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar-fifty<br />And had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha.<br />There was nothing more than a circular form the <br />Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awning needs.<br />At least they cared enough to write.<br /><br />It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in<br />the mails. Then it struck him: he didn't have enough<br />money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,<br />true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly<br />simple. He would ship himself parcel post special<br />delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket<br />to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought<br />masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized<br />cardboard box, just right for a person of his build.<br />He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could<br />ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, a<br />selection of midnight snacks, and it would probably be<br />as good as going tourist.<br /><br />By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly<br />packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up<br />at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "FRAGILE"<br />and as he sat curled up inside, resting in the foam<br />rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried<br />to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marsha's<br />face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped<br />the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo<br />finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then<br />maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of<br />this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package<br />and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud<br />in a truck and then he was off.<br /><br />Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It<br />had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember<br />not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it<br />though. After it was over he'd said that he still<br />respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way<br />of nature and even though no, he didn't love her, he<br />did feel an affection for her. And after all, they<br />were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo --<br />but that seemed many years ago. Sheila Klein, her<br />very, very best friend walked in through the porch<br />screen door into the kitchen. "Oh God, it's<br />absolutely maudlin outside."<br />"Ugh, I know what you mean, I feel all icky." Marsha<br />tightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silk<br />outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt<br />grains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and<br />made a face.<br />"I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," she<br />wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing<br />up."<br />Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an<br />exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even<br />talk about that." She got up from the table and went<br />to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and<br />blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than<br />steak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don't<br />think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up<br />and sat down, this time nearer the small table that<br />supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she<br />said to Sheila's glance.<br />Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I<br />thought maybe you'd be through with him."<br />"I know what you mean. My God, he was like an<br />octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured,<br />raising her arms upward in defense. "The thing is<br />after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you<br />know, and after all he didn't really do anything<br />Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you<br />know what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila<br />was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell<br />you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," she<br />bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to," and now she<br />was laughing very loudly.<br /><br />It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence<br />Darrow Post Office rang the door bell of the large<br />stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson<br />opened the door, he helped her carry the package in.<br />He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed<br />and left with a fifteen-cent tip that Marsha had<br />gotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book in<br />the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked.<br />Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. S<br />he stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in<br />the middle of the living room. "I don't know."<br /><br />Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as<br />he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her<br />fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the<br />center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the<br />return address and see who it is from?" Waldo felt<br />his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating<br />footsteps. It would be soon.<br /><br />Marsha walked around the carton and read the<br />ink-scratched label. "Ugh, God, it's from Waldo!"<br />"That schmuck," said Sheila. Waldo trembled with<br />expectation. "Well, you might as well open it," said<br />Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the stapled flap.<br /><br />"Ahh, shit," said Marsha groaning. "He must have<br />nailed it shut." They tugged at the flap again. "My<br />God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened."<br />They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" They<br />both stood still, breathing heavily.<br />"Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsha<br />ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a<br />little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her<br />father kept a collection of tools in the basement.<br />She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a<br />large sheet-metal cutter in her hand.<br />"This is the best I could find." She was very out of<br />breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank<br />into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily.<br />Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape<br />and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too<br />big and there wasn't enough room. "Godamn this<br />thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then,<br />smiling, "I got an idea."<br />"What?" said Marsha.<br />"Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her<br />head.<br /><br />Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with<br />excitement that he could barely breathe. His skin<br />felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart<br />beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila<br />stood quite upright and walked around to the other<br />side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees,<br />grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath<br />and plunged the long blade through the middle of the<br />package, through the middle of the masking tape,<br />through the cardboard, through the cushioning and<br />(thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head,<br />which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs<br />of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.
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