Sunday, June 26, 2016

Spring Break: Very Short Fiction by Stephanie Mesler

Spring Break

By Stephanie Mesler (aka Freda Frostbite)

Created At A Fiction To Go Workshop,6/14/2016





He'd just fucking walked across the water and all those sons of bitches could think of was asking him to do it again.  C'mon Jess, one more time!  If you did it once, you can do it again!  Mikey missed the whole thing-- he was out gettin' beer for all your new pals.  Do it again so he can see!

Jess couldn't even bring himself to look at his friends.  What a bunch of colossal assholes they were.  The smartest of 'em was too dumb to come in outa the rain.  Had they any idea how exhausted he was from being their personal circus act?  First it was, Hey, jess, can you brew up some more fire water in that still of yours?  Then it was, Yo, Jessie man, what're we gonna eat tonight?  and where can we find some women, man?  Can ya conjure us up some of those pros we saw downtown? While you're at it, make 'em hot enough they won't care what we smell like.

I don't smell, shouted one of 'em to the others.  

Yeah, ya do, said another.  
Then they started tossin’ each other into the water while Jess stood back and watched.  

Fools, he thought to himself wishing he'd never agreed to spend spring break with this crew of idiots from Kappa Delta Dipshit.

He'd gotten into a boat to get away from their constant blathering, but they'd all followed him aboard and he'd ended up trapped in a 12-foot skiff with 13 of the stinkinest asswhipes to ever come outa any woman's womb.  Jesus Christ, couldn't they let him have 10 minutes to himself?  Ten minutes when he dudn't have to listen to all their damned yammering.  He'd gotten so fed up he stepped off the deck of the boat and suited up with the water jet.  Jess had never used one before but he'd seen it done.  He cranked that sucker up and headed... well, truthfully, he hadn't known where he was headed.  He just wanted outa the boat and away from those jabbering jackasses.  It took every bit of strength and energy he could muster to stay aloft, above a stream of water aimed pretty much up his ass.  Somehow he'd managed to keep atop the thing and not drown himself in the Banana River.  He'd ridden that spout of water toward shore where he jumped off and collapsed in an exhausted heap in the sand.  

He enjoyed a few minutes of quiet -- he'd hoped for more -- before his "friends" managed to stop rowing against each other and floated ashore right next to him.  Jess didn't even look up as they whooped and hollered about his daring feat of balance in motion.  He laid down at the edge of the water and started to cover himself with wet sand.  He didn't plan to bury himself alive but he'd take whatever quiet he could get.  He closed his eyes and waited for the tide to come in.  

Spring Break is © 2016 Stephanie Mesler

Friday, June 17, 2016

Pollyanna Shitcakes: A New Rant by Stephanie Mesler


Pollyanna Shitcakes is written in the aftermath of the shootings at Pulse Nightclub in Orlando and during the crapstorm that is this cycle's presidential primary season.  A friend lamented to me about people telling her to "keep a positive attitude" in the face of terrifying and infuriating national events that threaten to affect her own family.  Feeling some rage of my own, directed not so much at current events and their perpetrators, but at those who believe it is their right to decide how we should each face our own worst nightmares.  I reached deep down inside myself and got in touch with my own inner demons.  I kissed my own rage square on the lips and Pollyanna Shitcakes was born.  

I share with you a link to a sound recording of the rant.  It is a lousy recording and I apologize for that, but, where rants are concerned, any recording is better than none. I will also warn you that this poem is NOT for those of tender ears and tender sensibilities.  If rage does not reverberate well with you, don't listen and don't read the poem below.  

SERIOUSLY -- 
If you read on after this warning, I don't want to receive any whiny notes about trigger warnings or my bad attitude.  
You have been warned.

Pollyanna Shitcakes

by Stephanie Mesler

So you don’t like my attitude, eh?  
You say depression wastes energy and anger is a useless emotion. 
You say I should smile more,
be grateful for more,
count my blessings more.
You look me in the eye and spout new age drivel about the law of attraction.  
You hear fairies singing the song of your people;
I hear horse shit come to life, 
a blame game you don’t even know you’re playing.  
I hear you say God has a plan or The Universe never gives us more than we can handle 
and I wanna kick your creepy, smiling face and bury you in molten piles of pollyanna shitcakes.  
You and your positive attitude 
make. 
me. 
sick.  
When has a positive outlook ever gotten one damned thing accomplished?  
You can sit around and throw positive energy at the world -
hell, you can drop humongous good vibe buggers across the globe - 
and not one damned thing will change.  
It takes some rage, 
some hot, frightening fury to 
get. 
shit. 
done.  

Tarpeia,
Jesus, 
Joan of Arc, 
Crazy Horse, 
John Brown, 
Osceola, 
Jandamarra, 
Táhirih, 
Harriet Tubman, 
Julia Ward Howe, 
James Rapier, 
Susan B. Anthony,  
Louise Weiss, 
Sandino, 
David Knout and Abraham Polonski, 
Schindler, 
Ghandi, 
Rosa Parks, 
Cesar Chavez, 
Martin Luther King Jr., 
Malcolm X,
Tommie Smith and John Carlos,  
Abbie Hoffman, 
Pete Seeger, 
Chris Williamson, 
Joan Baez, 
Nelson Mandela, 
Cliff Arneson, 
Brenda Howard, 
Betty Friedan, 
Lek Wolinska, 
George Carlin,
Barbara Jordan,
Tank Man, 
Barney Frank, 
Bernie Sanders, 
Craig Watkins, 
Cynthia McKinney, 
Farhana Khera --
They were all angry.  

Not just angry, they were fed up to their eyeballs with platitudes.  
Every one of them said, fuck this shit, and got to work.  
They wrote their stories and told their tales; 
they sang songs and beat drums;
they led marches and stopped trains and faced down armies; 
they won elections and rewrote laws;  
they pissed off presidents and kings and faced hordes who hated them for demanding change.  
It was not their sunny dispositions that kept them going when the going got tough.  
It wasn’t faith in Human Nature 
or God 
or The Tooth Fairy 
that kept them fighting for what was right.  
It was ferocious wrath that held them up day in and day out when the fuckers tried to keep them down.  
So don’t tell me to change my outlook.  
You can kiss my ass.  
Go ahead and sit over there with the throng of cheerful Koolaid addicts;
I’m going to stomp my feet and raise my fists;
I’m going to shout until the walls reverberate with my fury.
I will goddam, for sure, be heard and, in the shouting, I will 
change. 
the. 
world.

Friday, June 10, 2016

It's Out and It's FREE For Theater Companies...

I am very pleased to announce that my play, Mothers' Days, is now available from Babble Publishing and can be found on Amazon and other booksellers online.  The play is a comedy in two acts.  Each scene is a stand-alone one-act that could be performed on its own.  Cast and set requirements are very minimal, so Mothers' Days will be an accessible production for all theater companies, no matter their size or budget.  Performance rights are available by contacting the drama desk at Babble Publishing.  

Mothers' Days is also available FREE for review by theater companies, local professional, and educational.  Send email to the drama desk at Babble Publishing.


Friday, June 3, 2016

SOON: Look What's Coming Soon From Stephanie Mesler


This is almost unreadable because it is a snip of the digital galley CreateSpace sent me to approve (or not) early this morning.  Should have this play on the market and available for purchase in a couple of weeks.  More info will follow.  For now, just do a happy dance for me, please.