Jagoffs, Beers, and Brats

Short Story Time!

2009-12-17T15:58:00.000-08:00

I have been neglecting this sight so I figured I'd start throwing some rejected material onto it.

We will start with a comedic tragedy I wrote like four years ago called Cooked Bookends.

John is a walking palindrome. He starts and ends his day at Buskies Motel on the stretch of Route 8 that runs through commercial stretch in Hampton Township. He was born in raised in Allegheny County. Never been out of Western Pennsylvania. He starts his day with a cup of decaf and a Breakfast Smile at the Hampton Eat N’ Park by the Butler Valley exit of the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
The same breakfast puts him at ease. The woman who waits on him, Danielle, knows exactly how he likes his breakfast. She knows he likes his decaf with a touch of regular but do not tell him because he will not drink it. She touches his arm when she says bye. The little things mean a lot to John. He knows she knows this and gives her an extra fifty cents show his appreciation. She then fills up his silver plastic thermos that has a clear plastic handle and black interior. He walks almost half a mile and crosses Route 8 at the stoplight to Hampton Plaza where he works at the Radioshack.
Work is home for him. John has to be this way otherwise people will think he is weird and everybody wants to be normal. John was a manager of the store; that meant the most responsibility of anyone; even the owner Richard Wilhelm or his stupid son who comes in once a month and pokes around. John has to be able to do everything in the store; even pricing. He did the books at the end of the night. He even did in-store repairs. John is the Radioshack in Hampton Plaza. John cared so much about this place he forwent raises five years straight assuring the store is makes profit.
The same people visit John every week. Monday and Wednesdays Mrs. Briar comes and buys two lithium AA batteries. She used to come in three times a week buying large packs of AA batteries. It bothered John that this woman had no sense of routine so he recommended the lithium batteries; saving her money long-term. Since she is such a big fan of electronics, he figured, she could start buying whatever she uses all those batteries for at John’s store.
She only came to buy the batteries and often complained about the output of the lithium batteries, that she was, “not getting enough juice.” John recommended she find something that takes a lithium iron disulphide battery. “What is that John?”
He turns his back to a frustrated Mrs. Briar and scuttles across the display wall for the perfect battery. There were two types of lithium iron disulphide batteries; the store brand and name brand. He opts for the free advertising and goes with the store brand and places it on the glass counter.
Mrs. Briar looks confused.
John can feel his stomach rising into his throat. He takes a deep breath, “It is a watch battery.”
“It’s small though.”
“But it gives off higher currents of electricity. I could guess whoever makes whatever you need those batteries for; they probably make one that takes this type of battery.” John smiles. He knows this slam dunk sale will benefit the store for a long time.
“I can get one of those Jackrabbits or Bunnies or whatever, that’s fine, and you said it gives off more juice?”
John nods. Women make him feel uncomfortable but he remains stoic. She leaves.
Finally, John can focus on what he has been looking forward to all day: the peanut butter and marmalade sandwich he made this morning on unbleached whole wheat bread. John never understood why his coworkers would go out to lunch and sometimes spend as much as five dollars on a sandwich and drink at Subway when he could bring this sandwich, which he made, for the next two weeks with that same five dollars. People who eat different things everyday bother John. He feels they look for happiness in the wrong places.
When Paul visits, John makes sure he has an adjustments form prepared. It makes sure the inventory John keeps is correct. Paul claims he is just making sure John double checks his own work.
This month, John forgot to do his form, Danielle was not at work and everything just ground to a halt and Paul did the form. A week later Richard Wilhelm comes from Florida to see how the store is operating. He looks around and nods at John. Richard motions Paul, his son, into the office where and John could hear them yell. They came out and Paul was red in the face.
John remembers feeling that exact way when he was in Mrs. Henessee’s third grade classroom and his zipper was down. John wondered if Richard was angry that Paul’s zipper was down.
Richard patted John on the shoulder, as if telling him he is doing a good job, and walks out of the building.
“He is such a jerk,” Paul says. He reaches across John and grabs a tissue from under the counter. John takes the box of tissues and places it on the glass counter. Paul blows his nose and wads up the snotty tissue in his hand. He grabs several more and blows his nose again.
Paul walks around the counter, throws the adjustments form on the top of store’s computer monitor, and snatches the black garbage can under John’s chair.
John did not want the chair but supposedly people working as many hours as he does a week, that is eighty-four, have to be allowed to sit down. They gave him a nice chair in the office and told him that standing at a desk made no sense. John found standing more productive. Rejecting this indulgence, John decided to give the chair away and bring his metal folding chair from his place at Buskies and sat outside the store, to better keep track of who was in there at all times. Eventually they settled for a basic cloth padded chair behind the counter; next to the door.
Paul squeezes the wad of snotty tissues and John feels faint.
“I’m sick,” John says. Paul opens up his hand and the sight of the snotty tissue causes John to swoon.
“John! You alright?” Paul asks a distance away.
“Hey John, you awake? Great, I’m doctor Spagnola. So what are you doing here John?”
John opens his mouth but the doctor interrupts, “It was a joke John, a joke.”
“I was sick.” John feels detached. He is in a different place in the universe. Foreign. Uncomfortable. It stinks of antiseptic and the looming sense of death. The smells get stronger as John is wheeled through the waiting room filled with sick people to the taxi waiting for him at the door.
“I talked to your boss already John, you are going to take the next couple weeks off. You have some lifestyle,” Dr. Spagnola is young and confident. John is skeptical of his qualifications. The doctor places his hands on John’s shoulders not allowing John to get up from the chair.
“John, you are so exhausted, physically, you have no idea, do you?” The doctor speaks in a tone reminding John of his Mom’s boyfriend Jeff who would lecture John about needing a proper male role model. “I talked to your boss Paul and he said you’re their hardest worker. Never a vacation, Takes everything seriously. I told him you can’t work for a week and he said you have enough vacation time for a year. He said some other things…I think you need to relax.” The doctor releases John.
John springs up to face the doctor. The doctor’s shiny shaved head and young tight skin made John feel old. The doctors words made John’s hands shake.
John sleeps on the cab ride home.
John wakes up on the red wooden bench outside of Buskies that he painted last fall. The morning brought about dew and birds singing songs of joy. He gets up and walks into his room. “What a day to start out my first day off,” he thinks. He does not want to get too out of hand, he will be working again, so he treats it like every morning and takes a shower and makes sure he brushes for two minutes. No more otherwise he can get a gum infection. He does not have to put his tooth brush in a plastic bag to take to work and quietly rejoices over saving a bag.
John walks to Eat N’ Park, he feels like a hotshot eating breakfast at ten in the morning. The Eat N’ Park does not look as busy as he is used to.
“Johnny! How are you doing? I missed you this morning,” Danielle says, she comes from behind the podium and touches John’s arm. He smiles. His cheeks are tight.
“I have a day off. The doctor told me I suffer from exhaustion? I figured I would just do the guy a favor…take his advice.”
Danielle nods. “Well can I get you a seat?”
John nods and Danielle grabs a menu from under the podium and motions with her head for John to follow. “I don’t need a menu, I already decided that I am going to get a Breakfast Smile with scrambled eggs, wheat toast and no sausage or bacon, you can just save that for someone else.”
Still holding the menu, Danielle nods, “Well here is your booth John, I’ll be right back with your cup of decaf.”
John sits back in the booth and takes in the old surroundings and new ambience; booths of truckers and motorists replaced with a group of seniors heavily concentrated by the brunch buffet. The morning urgency now gone.
Danielle places his coffee on the table and moves along to the next table. John was used to more attention from her and worried if he did or said something to make her angry. She must be angry at him, that is the only way to explain why she is the way she is. John finishes. Still hungry, he gets a Smiley Cookie for the walk back to Buskies.
Fire trucks and police cars speed past John on Route 8 and he knows the worst happened. He throws his cookie and starts running. At the crest of the hill he can see the flashing lights and plumes of smoke. He squints but his eyes blur. He gets closer. He can feel the heat. A crowd of people circle around the fire ahead of him. John works up the courage to walk over to a Home Depot employee named Kevin that John talks about electronics with.
“Kevin, what happened?”
“I stopped over to see if you were at work, I got this awesome transistor radio from some guy’s pickup truck bed when he wasn’t looking, was hoping you could work on it for me. Anyways, I see that skinny guy,” Kevin points at Paul Wilhelm, “screaming in the backroom about you and some fire extinguisher and the monitor is really giving off some heat at this point. So I grab him and drag him outside and he runs back in ranting about how his dad is going to kill him. So I go in and pull him back out again. At this point the monitor’s giving off more than heat, the whole wall of batteries is on fire; bangin and crackling like fireworks en at.”
John looks at Paul and starts to cry. Not tear up but cry. Cry the way he did when he got caught with his fly down. Cry the way he did when his mom died.
“John, this is a blessing in disguise, you couldn’t quit this stupid job so it quit you. You should be able to retire. You never spend any money.”
John’s knees collapse to the ground and press into the warm asphalt. “You don’t understand. My life is over.”

Jagoffs, Beers, and Brats: Dining!

2008-12-27T20:42:00.000-08:00

After the Penguins game tonight I decided to stop at a Sheetz for gas. I specifically picked Sheetz because I had to visit a water closet and Sheetz is the gold standard of gas station restrooms. Newly clear-headed, I realized that I had not eaten a thing for at least six hours. I made a decision, I have to get an MTO!

The problem with the MTO is the variety of choice. As Americans we expect a lot of options, ala carte, sides, sauces, dips, and spreads. These are not luxuries for many Americans but necessities. Being the gold-standard of gas stations, particularly restrooms, I had no choice but to eat where I just squat.

The menu starts off easy enough, you have selection of different menu items, hot and cold sandwiches, fries, nachos, chili, hot dogs, chicken tenders, basically anything that you can get at a bar sans the booze. Just looking at the picture of the burger made me think beer. Which inevitably led to the Penn Brewery moving. This got me upset and seeking comfort food so I opted for the cold sandwich. What better way to cull my frustration than with Italian deli meats topped with onions, tomatoes, and Italian dressing that will combine to make my breath smell like underpants.

I pick the cold Italian sub, but then an unexpected question arises: White or Wheat? Being that I am in a comfort food mood I opt for the least healthy, the white, and proceed to the decorating phase of this sandwich construction project.

The first stage of decoration is a vegetation, like the landscaping, I cover my grassy planes of lunch meat with delicious lettuce, tomato, and onion. I look at my other options. I had never previously considered relish, olives, and pickles on my Italian sub but now seemed as good of a time as any to try. So I pressed everything.

The next menu pops up: Choose your toppings. Salt, pepper, oregano, olive oil, Italian dressing, mayo, vinegar, Ranch, 1000 island, ketchup, mustard, blue cheese, and nacho cheese. I get everything except the nacho cheese. That just seems gross.

The next menu pops up. Double meat? Yes. Double cheese? Yes.

Would you like fries or chili? No.

Take your Ticket and please pay at the register.

I go and pay for my ticket. There are no other customers which is strange, usually there are a bunch of teenagers and retired people hanging out. Reading magazines, loitering, and generally not spending money.

I am directed to pick-up my sandwich at the area below the sign that reads "Pick-up". The sign is next to coffee too. I wonder if that was intended or not. I know if I had a gas station it would be. Although I never will so there is no point in thinking about it.

I am treated to a magnificent show. The cook, no, the culinary artist is working on my sandwich. All of the ingredients are out but she has not even cut the bread. She is just sort of staring at the order slip. She cuts the bread. I squeal on the inside in anticipation. This must be what an architect feels like when he is watching his design come to fruition. I can hardly contain my excitement.

I finally get my sandwich and tear it open right in the store. I am starving. The bread is soggy from the sauce and I now know what the color brown tastes like. Nonetheless, it was worth it because this is a place I definitely plan on returning to!

Greetings Bloggers!

2008-12-27T07:56:00.000-08:00

I am Ian Altenbaugh, a professional writer from the Pittsburgh area, and this is the new home of my long-standing Sporting News blog, "Jagoffs, Beers, and Brats".

Since I started my Sporting News blog several years ago as a blog for sports fans and most importantly myself. I have a lot to say about sports, politics, and life. However, I was always a stickler regarding formality. The concept of writing a well thought out and detailed retort on my own time always rang truer than calling up a show, or posting a response on a board.

Recently, with a colleague's recommendation, I decided create my own blog. So here we are.

While this blog will continue to cover sports, it will in a different context. There will be no more hockey coverage. My hockey coverage will be concentrated elsewhere. Sports will be discussed here, just not in any sort of real capacity. It is more likely I write about my experience at a sporting event and meditate on how a man declared, while waiting in the line for the urinal, "In the new arena, we will have troughs made out of gold!" than I write about what actually took place on the ice at the game.

It will not just be sports anymore. This blog is now officially a news/lifestyles blog. You will be getting film and restaurant reviews, news and events from the area and afar, and political satire. Before your recoil in horror at the thought of the political satire, keep in mind that I have no intentions of displaying any political allegiances I have. What interests me about politics is less the policy and more the politicians' hair, what they eat, and their shameless self-promotion. It also greatly interests me when a public figure makes a really bad speech. Another thing I am going to introduce is a segment I call, "The Useless Interview" where I interview random people who do not have anything interesting to say. Find out what the cashier at Giant Eagle has to say about the duality of public life, or what my friend Steve has to say about wings!

So hold tight Bloggers and forgive me for the current mess. I will be updating this blog in every facet on a daily basis until it bears a resemblence to something professional.