W. P. Johnson

Morimoto Art Exhibit

In Uncategorized on August 14, 2010 at 6:08 pm

This week, from August 15 to the 22nd, the James Oliver Gallery will be showcasing the art of Morimoto employees (the gallery is located above the restaurant at 723 Chestnut Street). As an employee of said restaurant, I asked James if it was of any interest to have the written word displayed and he said that would be “interesting… yeah, that’s kind of cool.”

Don’t quote me.

So, I wrote up a bunch of short one sentence stories. Today I’ll be bringing him a printed sheet of five, framed to look extra fancy, and hopefully I’ll get a little spot somewhere in the gallery. Posted belong is an early draft, some of which did not make the cut, others of which were rewritten and now framed. Which ones made it? You’ll just have to go to the gallery to find out!

1. He presumed that the dimension was completely identical to the one he had traveled from (buildings, people, language, etc), continuing this assumption right up to his last moments when the loud buzz of a wasp was accompanied by a shadow the size of a building. It was, he would soon find out on those empty streets, mating season.

2. The drug took hold, the transformation surely irreversible, and as he reached for loose change off the floor of his car to pay a toll, every one of his teeth fell out of his mouth like candy out of a broken gumball machine. With his lips bloody, he laughed to himself in utter madness as the first wing burst from his shoulder, exclaiming to a horrified toll booth employee, “Keep the change doll face.”

3. The fight lasted for hours, and as he beat the man he began to notice that his victim had managed to, eerily so, continually insult him without every shouting the same word twice.

4. The least of the changes included the fact that the house was upside-down, literally, with an isolated snow storm in the master bedroom and a functional emergency room in the kitchen, equipped with a full staff of nurses and doctors. Considering all of this, Charlie believed it impossible that his parents would blame him for any of the unusual changes that took place in their absence, conceding that the keg would hopefully go unnoticed as well.

5. On day six, he shouted, “Over my dead body,” then, regaining composure, long after everyone else had calmed down, he took his turn and earned himself the profitable Park Place, adding apologetically that he was sorry things had gotten so violent, returning his revolver to its holster.

6. It was the most addictive game in the world. Some say, conspiratorial, that it was a government ploy to control the minds of its citizens. But even the President played and could often be found between levels six and seven, dominating the other players who had feared that any retaliation would get them deported.

7. It was the number ten. He couldn’t help but count everything in tens. Cars, birds, fingers, floor tiles. Even his bank account was rounded to the closest domination of ten and tips were considered in respects to its total. So it was that when he was held up, a mugger gave him till the count of three to give up the pin number to his bank account, forcing him to continue counting.



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