Monday, June 29, 2009

another super Sunday: the American Male 1.1

A foul-odored creature shuffles forth from his den. Defining disheveled with every step. An odd stench of soured grain and dried spittle clings to the air around him. An odd stench whose source is advertised by the red-round imprint displayed proudly on the beast’s forehead. An imprint that would give a forensic artist ample inspiration to reconstruct the 12 oz. aluminum can that undoubtedly did the damage. A patchy pelt achieves nothing in its halfhearted attempt to cover its wearer’s quivering paunch.

Typically this species can be observed in his Sunday’s Best: a stained, ill-fitting pair of boxer shorts whose waistband slips exhaustedly down the ample, shapeless frame that has demoralized what was once a spry and resilient example of elastic engineering. The specific specimen being observed is undoubtedly a sophisticate amongst his breed: an immense terrycloth robe lopsidedly drapes his shoulders and sways jauntily about his black-stockinged feet.

The creature seeks a newspaper, and no unkempt personal appearance can hope to restrain him from venturing out into the wilds of his front porch. Once back inside, our subject takes on a squirrel-like tenacity, cleverly peeling away the refuse of protective packaging ensuring the sanctity of the sought-after Sports Page. A bastion of journalistic excellence, the Sports Page guarantees to contain the same information as the 3 hours of Sportscenter each of its readers will have consumed the night before.

It seems other creatures are now astir in different parts of the domicile. Groaning, the residents’ clawing exits from the state of slumber threaten to disturb the sporting feast. Not to worry, for years of shirking familial responsibilities have steeled our creature to unwanted impositions—to the point that he can disable his sense of hearing seemingly at will. After finishing the morning’s literary exploits, calculated indifference ensures fatherly duties will intrude on the day for at most fifteen minutes. Then the Pregame Show initiates a 10 hour engorgement of all things gridiron.


This is the first in a series of similar pieces I've sketched out. I would much appreciate your feedback and comments. Enjoy

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