Iowa State University Capstones, Theses and Retrospective Theses and Dissertations Dissertations 2000 Balderdash and poppycock Robert Steven Determan Iowa State University Follow this and additional works at: https://lib.dr.iastate.edu/rtd Part of the Creative Writing Commons, and the English Language and Literature Commons Recommended Citation Determan, Robert Steven, "Balderdash and poppycock" (2000). Retrospective Theses and Dissertations. 16234. https://lib.dr.iastate.edu/rtd/16234 This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Iowa State University Capstones, Theses and Dissertations at Iowa State University Digital Repository. It has been accepted for inclusion in Retrospective Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of Iowa State University Digital Repository. For more information, please contact [email protected]. Balderdash and POPPycock by Robert Steven Determan A thesis submitted to the graduate faculty in partial fulfil~ent of the requirements for the degree of MASTER OF ARTS Major: English (Creative Writing) Major Professor: Barbara Haas Iowa State University Ames, Iowa 2000 1 Balderdash and POPPycock Robert Steven Determan Major Professor: Barbara Haas This is a group of loosely related short stories.Some examine what we have done to the country of America. All of these stories are written in a humorous/satirical vein. ii Graduate College Iowa State University This is to certify that the Master's thesis of_ Robert Steven Determan has met the thesis requirements of Iowa State University Signatures have been redacted for privacy iii TABLE OF CONTENTS KEEP A LEVEL HEAD 1 SYRENE 19 THE DARK HEART OF THE MUSIC MAN 33 THE NEW EASTER STORY 57 A TRIBAL STUDY 69 PAULA 78 1 KEEP A LEVEL HEAD If ever there were two people Jheaded for different ports of call for eternity, it was Jack Baxter and Mabel Brown. The sun was slowly beginning to crack the eastern sky as Jack and Mabel shuffled to the front door of the factory. Jack moved at a quick, clipped pace. He adjusted his tie on his tailored suit. Even though he would have spent money for a well made suit, he primarily did it because of the mess of a gene pool body he owned. Possibly, God had been on a three day drink the day Jack was created. He had that look about him. Legs far too short, a torso longer than his legs, small, weak muscled arms, and a head that resembled a rotting pumpkin. Add to this a flesh strip that ran front to back on his head, black, bristle tough hair covering the rest of his head. The hair never rested in place either, it always stuck out at crazy angles which gave Jack the appearance of a mad professor, or rabid dog. His feet were at least one size too large for a man with this squat of a body. His hands were tiny and delicate and could easily be transferred to a female ice skater. Instead, they were on this human ploughhorse. Mabel neared the door and spotted Jack shuffling along. She was about to say good morning to him, when he pulled open the door in front of her. She smiled and nearly slid out the words "Thank you," when Jack pushed in front of her and nearly dropped the door on Mabel's shoulder. Mabel stood stunned for a moment. She had never talked directly to Mr. Baxter the eight years she had worked at the plant. The only other times she had seen him were at company meetings where he praised, or condemned, their productivity. She had heard he was a rude and selfish man, this seemed to prove it. Mabel pushed the door back and entered. She watched Mr. Baxter shuffle on down to where the main offices were located. A giggle erupted from her mouth. People like Mr. Baxter have no real life, she thought. Here she was, forty­ four years old and looking at the backside of life. The middle-aged spread was just beginning to afflict her, but she did not mind. Her boys were nearly out of the house and she was thinking of doing a little traveling. She always wanted to go to Africa, maybe find her "Roots" or something. She had done okay for an African-American lady. Maybe she could have done better, 2 but she did have Jesus and that's all that really matters. People like Mr. Baxter had no idea about life. Mabel Brown came to work early so she could beat that cackling gaggle of young girls she worked with. They were all young enough to be her daughters, and sort of were the girls she never had. She liked them well enough, but they never had their minds on their work. As she got nearer her department, Mabel thought of setting up her work station. She had to get it done before those girls showed up. They were always distracting her from her work. She walked through the desolate department. She lived for theis solitude before the clatter of the day began. Then her left foot suddenly gave way. It nearly threw her onto the concrete floor. She grasped a table top, breaking her fall. "One of them girls probably spilled water on the floor last night," she muttered to herself. Mabel turned to look at what made her slip. Something dark and liquid was snaking across the floor, little fingers stretching out from a hand. Small pools were forming from some of them. Other fingers of liquid were joining together and forming a hand that was vainly trying to latch onto a table leg to stop their quick march. Unable to slow their advance, the hand now joined other fingers and formed an arm that sprinted across the floor, looking for another table. They were purplish- red in color. They looked like they had been birthed by Mabel's bag-cutting machine. Mabel stepped over the quickly moving river. She thought, at first, that a bottle of nail polish, from one of the girls, had broken. This was too much liquid for a bottle of nail polish. She steadied herself on a table, as she neared the scene of the mystery. It was her machine. There was something lying next to the machine. On the machine it looked like ••• Blood? Mabel gasped, trying to process what she saw. The thing, lying by her machine, was wearing Big Smith overalls. It also wore a flannel shirt. It was also missing a head. Out of the corner of her eye, Mabel saw an object. To her left was a still bowling ball. This bowling ball wore a black beard, and had black hair on its top. The eyes were open and stared straight at Mabel. Mabel screamed. "This si going to be a great day! II Jack baxter exclaimed to himself. 3 As he stood in his private bathroom, next to his office, he lathered his face with some Old Spice shave cream. If this tour goes well, it's off to Dallas and corporate headquarters for me, Jack though as he picked up his razor. What a climb it has been. Jack's parents had though there was something wrong with him at birth. "Look at him," his father complained. "He looks like he was made out of God's used parts bin. Christ, my son, the Chevy Camaro of human bodies. Any parts General Motors had left over they threw on that car, just like God and my son." With dreams of Super Bowl/World Series/NBA Champ­ ionship glory gone, Jack had to concentrate somewhere else for attention. That was especially true when Jake, Jack's younger brother, Showed up. Jake had the perfectly proportioned body and athletics was his stock in trade. He became the starting shortstop for the Minnesota Twins. His father had celebrated Jake's promotion to the big leagues by having a heart attack while balls deep in a stripper he had picked up at Phred's Phallic Phantasy Pharm. Mom celebrated by using the insurance money to go on a round the world cruise. She came home to a brand new house built and furnished for her by Jake. While Jake received all the attention, Jack had to find his way. He was Business Club President in high school, which was as cool as taking your sister to the prom. Jack would have had to do that, if he had a sister, because no one wanted to go to prom with him. After Junior College, where he headed the Business Club, he went to State University, where he did not head the Business Club, something about his constant sweating that made him smell like wet, dirty gym socks. At C.J. Nickel's Catalog he excelled. He was known as a strict disciplinarian. Rarely did any of the hourly help he hired last more than a year. This impressed Dallas. Any man who could fire the people he hired, in less than a year, was certainly management material. Jack was seen as a man with a purpose, a man unafraid to make decisions and stick to it, no matter how much chaos it caused. His move up the ladder was in near record time. Only his sweating, and stench, slowed him down. I won't have to deal with these knUCkleheads around here no more, Jack thought. "Assistant to the assistant vice-president. Why thank you Mr. Biggs. I'd be delighted to accept this new challenge." Jack lOOked at himself smiling in the mirror, practising his surprise. "it will be tough leaving 4 this fine management team, the close friends, the creativity, thinking only of the customer, but I think I'll manage." Jack gazed at his plump lathered face.