- Chris Hyatte


Fu-leeaze wants me to contribute to his site here every week.  His thinking is: “I saved your ass in the Midnight News a million times, H-8! I re-invented your ass!  You owe me!”

 Well, he did contribute to the column many times, I’ll give him that.  He did fill in for me while I was away.  Yes he did.  And I do owe him, I owe him quite a bit to be honest.  So I said,  “Sure Flea, I’ll contribute to your site.  What should I talk about?”

 “Whatever you want.”

 “Whatever I want?”





 Great… so now what?

 I already have a dumb column where I spout my dumb opinions.  Why do I need two forums?  Will this get me new readers?  Not a chance.  Do I even have the time for another column?  Jesus, no.  I work for a living motherfucka… work hard and a lot.  You think those bedpans are gonna clean themselves?  Shit no. 

But it behooves me to contribute, but with what?  I need to put effort into everything I write, I can’t half-ass it.  But all the really good stuff has to go into the bread and butter column.  This has to be different… unique… something you can’t get anywhere else from me.  But what?  God, what do I have to say that would be remotely interesting?

 I raked over this for two weeks now.  I’m still raking, in case you didn’t notice.

 Maybe I should do a nice, nifty short story of no less than 750-1000 words?  I badly need practice with the bare bones tale.  Most of mine tend to stretch deep into the 5 figure word-count range.  Something like this: 


Love on the Smokeys

            Randy’s eyes were blue - sky blue and so intense that Darlene thought that if she looked hard enough, she see tiny clouds floating within them.  Randy’s eyes were his most attractive feature.  Darlene loved getting lost in them.

            Somewhere below those brilliant eyes that seemed to house a sky from another world were a pair of thin lips that stretched into gray worms whenever he smiled (and when he kissed her, his lips formed a mushy circle.  To Darlene, making out with Randy felt like being mauled by a giant goldfish).  Breaking the beautiful silence, Randy’s pair of gray worms twisted to life and said, “You’re so beautiful.”

            Darlene smiled.  Yes, she was.  She finally started to believe that.  It took a long time for her to start thinking that.  She was beautiful.  Randy kept telling her that over the year they have been together, so how couldn’t she be.

            Randy moved his head closer and kissed her softly.  The goldfish attacked.  His tongue poked tenderly inside her mouth and lightly rubbed her own for a moment before pulling back.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

Darlene smiled up at the Father of her unborn child.  The forty-four year old man who left his wife and children for her.  The forty-four year old man who swept her up off her feet and treated her like a woman for the first time in her seventeen years.  “Of course I love you.  With all my heart.”  There was no other possible answer.   

Randy’s gray worms kissed her forehead, “We are doing the right thing, you know?”  The wind had picked up, sending his long hair to one side of his neck.

            Darlene thought of her Father, who was driving around town right now, looking for them, with his shotgun resting behind the pickup’s seats.  “I know, baby.  I love you so much.  I can’t stand not to be without you.”

            Randy’s smiled widened.  A small tangle of wrinkled appears on both sides of his eyes whenever he did that. Like his lips, Darlene grew to ignore those too.  There was a lot about Randy that she made herself ignore.  The way she figured, that’s what true love was - ignoring the bad and loving the good.

He dug into his pocket and produced a flask.  He opened it and drank deeply.  He gave it to Darlene and she drank.  Hot whiskey filled her belly with warmth.  She wondered if this was good for her baby.  She decided that the baby could survive one strong gulp. 

            Randy took another snort from the flask, then put it back in his pocket.  He looked at the sky and breathed deeply.  A stronger gust of wind made the hair against his neck dance.  The cropped hair on his scalp rippled, but his hairspray kept it firmly in place.  Darlene’s own brown hair blew in her face, she pushed it back with her hand and at the mountain ranges in the distance, watching the tops of the evergreens shimmy in the warm gust.  Pebbles, which might have been wedged in the hillside for thousands of years, finally broke free from the hill’s surface and skipped down.  Darlene felt absurdly lucky to be able to witness these pebbles break free from the hill after centuries of confinement.  She decided that this was a good hill to free herself and her child... just like these pebbles.  Everything is freed today.

            Randy took her hands in his and squeezed. 

“There is no other way, right?” he said.

            Darlene was scared, but exhilarated all at once, “No, there really isn’t.”

            “I love you Darlene.  More than you even know.”

            “I love you too Randy.  You are everything to me.”

            “God.  You are worth everything to me.  You’re father doesn’t understand.”

            “He never will,” Darlene agreed.  “Daddy doesn’t see.”

            “No one will,” Randy said.  “Are you ready?”

            Darlene tightened her grip in his hands.  “One more kiss?”

            Randy moved in and kissed her.  They kissed long.  She thought that she might actually miss these goldfish attacks, now that she thought of it.

            Darlene broke away and said, “To forever then.”

            “And ever,” Randy finished.  “I love you so much!”

            “I love you.”


            “God yes.”

            Randy let go of her hands and placed his on her shoulders.  Darlene put her hands on his sides and held him tightly.  Randy asked, “On three?”

            Darlene said, “three.”

            Randy started, “One.”

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too.  Two.”

            “No other way for us to be together.”

            “None.  My wife would kill me.  Your dad would kill you.  God knows.  God understands.  THREE!”

            Randy’s hands tightened on Darlene’s shoulders and flung them towards the hill’s cliff.  Darlene felt herself falling sideways.  She pulled back and pushed forward with all her might.  Randy grabbed her shoulders hard as he lost his balance on the edge.  He yanked Darlene towards him.  Darlene went forward a little, but so she could get more force from her arms.  She placed her hands on Randy’s chest and shoved him back.  Randy backed into thin air and lost any semblance of balance he had.  Randy flew back and plummeted straight down.  Darlene pulled herself back from the crumbling ledge and watched as Randy crashed down off the steep hill and bounced hard down.  He smashed into a large boulder that jutted out from the Hill’s face.  Darlene heard an audible snap as Randy’s back crashed against the unforgiving rock.  The force of Randy’s weight dislodged the boulder from it’s home, freeing it just like all the pebbles Darlene saw the wind free a few moments ago.  Randy and the boulder fell into a sea of green as they fell into tightly knit evergreens that are so close together; they appear black at night.  Darlene heard the boulder land, and she heard Randy moan, but there wasn’t much behind it.  If Randy was still alive, she figured he wouldn’t be for long.  Besides, she noted that the sun was slowly making its way downward and will soon sink into the horizon.  It will be dark soon.  Then the bears will come out.  There are plenty of Bears in the Smoky Mountains. 

            Darlene patted her tummy, still flat, but that will change soon enough.  She turned and headed back into the mile-long trail they walked after parking.  Mindy had already promised that she’ll tell everyone that Darlene was with her all day to hide out from her father.  Randy’s wife might make a fuss, but not a loud one, after the insurance policy kicks in.  All Darlene would have to do is avoid her for a spell.  Randy’s widow will get over it soon enough.  Probably within a week.  Everyone saw the steady stream of visitors the now former Mrs. Randy Hulton had to her trailer while Randy was out painting houses.  Darlene was sure the old lady would bounce back quick from her husband’s disappearance

            Darlene listened to the birds chirp their songs in the trees; she tried to whistle with them, then gave up and settled on humming.  Daddy will still be mad, and she might get a few belt straps, but so long as she kept saying that Randy left town and probably Tennessee altogether, he’d calm down.  She’ll take a whipping, then settle back, and have her little baby.  Daddy’s about to graduate to Granddaddy, how can he get too mad?

            Darlene stopped for a second, she thought she could hear Randy still screaming.  Faintly, she heard “trailer trash whore,” coming from behind her.  No, she decided, it was just the wind.  She wasn’t trailer trash anyway; she was going to be someone’s Momma.

            Besides, Darlene knew trailer trash.  Trailer trash were ugly folks.  Darlene was beautiful.  Randy told her so, and wanted her to die with him just so no one else could have her.  That’s how beautiful she was.  The baby was going to be beautiful too.  Even if it had her daddy’s wormy lips, there were doctors who could inflate them like tires.  She already looked into that.

            Besides, she was only seventeen.  Randy was old.  Randy already had his life, and he would have kept trying to spoil her own.  She loved Randy dearly, but she wanted to be with a lot of guys before she settled down.  She wanted to have fun.  Darlene thought she still could, even with her baby.  Who said Randy was the only guy with sky blue eyes?  That’s just silly.

            She walked down the path again, and started to hum with the singing birds.  She decided that one day; she’ll take her baby back here with her and teach it how to sing too. 

            That’s what beautiful Mommas do.


            Something like that.  Now that was a perfectly serviceable 1’400+ word story with a little moral lesson tossed in for good measure (that being: love kills, but blind love really hurts before it kills).  Could I do that every week?  Naah.  Once in a while?  Sure. 

So what else can I write about?  A weekly dose of random thoughts?  Stuff I accumulated during my week of living life?  Something like this:

 -This’ll probably put me in jail, with a hefty bail, or put me in the total shitter with my family, but I don’t care anymore.  Within a year, I am going to beat the ever-living shit out of my no good, useless, not a goddam thing to offer anyone, worthless deadbeat crackhead cousin.  For crimes against me, his parents, and everyone else who’s had the misfortune of meeting him.

 -There’s something about women who have served time in jail that turns me on big time.

 -Currently, I carry a Bible with me to work just because I heard that the ultra-ultra-ULTRA hot Spanish chick who lives in the building I watch over the weekends goes to Bible class during the week.  Whenever the elevator leaves the third floor, I throw down the Playboy and pick up the good book.  I even bring a notebook and pretend to jot shit down.  So far, while she has noticed, she hasn’t stopped and talked to me about it. (the fact that she doesn’t speak a lick of English other than “hi” is probably a factor).  I don’t care if it makes me lame… I still enjoy doing it.

 -Watch the Rocky movies in succession (you can skip 5)… notice how lousy 2-4 are when compared to the first one.  In fact, only 3 really has any relevance anymore.

 -I really need to shave my head bald again.

 See?  Can you put up with that kind of column for too long?  Me neither.  There’s a reason I never put together a daily journal of my own.  I’m BORING.

 So… I have this column and Flea wants me to write in it… and I have no idea what to say.  This was my drama for the last week or so. 

 Then it hit me.

 Flea does stuff for my column… he did a bit where he connected everything possible to Bob Ryder within 6 degrees (of course, the numerically illiterate hick was occasionally a degree or three off), then he “retired” that gimmick and did “Ask Flea” where he would answer your questions… then that gimmick ran it’s course (after a whopping TWO INSTALLMENTS)… and now he occasionally submits a fast 500 word essay for me… mostly just to plug this site which will probably do nothing for him, or me in the long run, but he enjoys doing it so who cares, right?

 Now, I once asked Flea where he would put himself on the IWC list.  He didn’t waste time and quickly (ie: before the last word flitted out of my mouth) snapped, “Oh, I’d be number 1, H-8!  I’ve influenced EVERYBODY”

 When I pointed out that he just stole my “gimmick”, he calmly called me a cocksucker.

 So, since it’s all about stealing my gimmicks here at 1Flea-land (note his friendly advice to cut and paste "No one gives a shit about this list. It sucks."and send it to him as ready-made flame mail.  Where DOES he gets these idears?) I thought I’d join the party myself.

 So welcome to ASK HYATTE!

 Ask me any questions:  Love, sex, music, politics, mom, dad, books, me, you, school, why your ass bleeds.  Anything and I will strive to offer useful, decent, brutally honest advice.  And, when I don’t feel like answering questions, I’ll do another short story or random thought thing.  Basically, whatever I can do that’s quick and easy yet entertaining enough, I’ll do.

And, in keeping with ripping off the ripper-offer, I’ll refuse to do them anymore within two columns.  Either that or I’ll do them for years and prove to Flea that a great gimmick can be done for a long time and STILL stay fresh. 

Dear God, I’m about to re-invent-the art of re-inventing.

 Ain’t Flea gr8?

 This is Hyatte

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