A Story of Wisconsin

Reply Wed 6 Jan, 2010 11:48 am
I re-wrote the Story of Madrid. Feel free to continue the story, if you like.

Jim Palicka was going to be late from work again. Irene would likely have supper on the table. But she wouldn't even notice he was late. It was a blessing in their marriage. She hadn't even noticed when he lost all his front teeth. Such was life for an NFL defensive lineman in bustling Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Jim wished his MG Midget was roomier. It felt constricted in full pads. But he was glad to wear his helmet, because adoring fans would recognize it and make room for the hulking lineman as he wound his way through traffic.

Jim finally reached their home, which was on the eleventh floor of the Regency Tower and Bowling Alley. Jim parked on the street and pried himself from the car. Standing on the sidewalk, Jim looked up to the top of the immense building where the revolving bowling alley twirled. He shook his fist in the air and yelled, “You lucky bastards!,” then looked around to see if anyone had heard him. He frequently spoke his thoughts out loud.

Jim had become increasingly bitter over the shattered dream of being a professional bowler. “I wonder why I moved into a building with a bowling alley on top?” he said. “I guess just to torture myself.” He beat his fists on the sides of his helmeted head. When he found himself alone on the sidewalk, he made his way, with great difficulty, to the elevator. His cleated shoes combined with the icy sidewalk caused him to fall several times in that short distance.

Once he reached his floor, he stiff armed his way to their apartment, opened the door and flung his helmet on the peg nearby. He, rather stupidly, had once had a spindle near the door, but it was completely inadequate for holding garments, so he changed it to a peg all by himself. He then plopped himself at the dinner table and grabbed a fork and knife. Irene rolled her wobbly shopping cart through the swinging door of the kitchen and sat near her husband. Bowling was now the furthest thing from his mind—he was ready to eat.

He laughed to himself as he remembered the day he met her. She had been a bag-lady pushing her shopping cart full of empty cans and bits of string, across the parking lot of Lambeau Field. Even on an NFL player's salary, she had found some old habits impossible to break. Jim didn't care though, because even under the knit cap she wore, she was hot.

Jim said “You should've seen this quarterback I...,” just then Jim sensed that someone was at the door. He got up, opened it and in walked their neighbors, the Marceaus. They had been pretending to knock at the door. Jim had developed an intuition for their antics, as these neighbors came over at least twice a week. They were dressed in black leotards with white makeup on their faces. They all sat down at the table.

Jim looked up to see the Marceaus pretending to cut food and eat. Jim laughed heartily and slapped Mr. Marceau on the back, who then pretended to choke on imaginary food. A thump was heard by all but Irene, who busied herself with a sardine key she had found. The bright yellow helmet had fallen to the floor Jim cursed the failed peg while the Marceaus hopped up and mimed a tug-o-war.

Then, there was real knock at the door....
  • Topic Stats
  • Top Replies
  • Link to this Topic
Type: Discussion • Score: 1 • Views: 984 • Replies: 8
No top replies

Reply Fri 8 Jan, 2010 12:34 am
hey, you can write! ever sold anything? (well, people manage to make a living that way i mean.) you write good i mean...but i suspect that you can write something marketable

---------- Post added 01-08-2010 at 12:06 PM ----------

it was the first superbowl i think, wasnt it? -15 fahrenheit, what was that wonderful quarterback's name the packers had then? vince lombardi on the sidelines, and frank gifford's cup of coffee froze into a block of ice...the dallas cowboys were getting frostbite
Reply Fri 8 Jan, 2010 08:16 am
Bart Starr was probably the quarterback. No I've never sold anything. In fact, I've only started writing things a few months ago. My teachers from school would either be bent over with laughter or spinning in their graves to hear anyone say I can write.
0 Replies
Reply Fri 8 Jan, 2010 10:26 pm
bart starr, that was him! great guy-great team.

your teachers must be illiterate...many are. were?

spinning in their graves? you mean to say time has passed and they have died of old age then, i hope...not that any strange accidents befell them all?
Reply Sat 9 Jan, 2010 07:29 am
Salimas right Chad that was brilliant , really enjoyed it. I want more more, more. It played havoc with my imagination. Can I have your autograph?
0 Replies
Reply Sat 9 Jan, 2010 07:55 am
by the way, what is the Story of Madrid?

i like the idea of having a continuing story written by different members-or maybe even starting a social group for that purpose in creative writing. sorry to say that i cant add to this one, though...i agree with xris, you should continue it for us!
0 Replies
Reply Fri 29 Jan, 2010 04:00 pm
I had to write this continuation quickly, so it may be a little sloppy:

Then, there was real knock at the door.

"Who could that be?" Jim wondered aloud.

He looked around the room, but got only a shrug from Mr. Marceau. Then he realized it was probably the only other acquaintance he had in the building.

"It's Kooky!" he exclaimed while rushing to the door. He opened it to see that it was indeed Kooky.

Kurasshu "Kooky" Koukuuki had flown more successful sorties over the Pacific than any other Kamikaze pilot. Through sheer willpower, he had survived both missions and returned to Japan after each, only to become disillusioned with his role in Japan's war effort. On his third mission, he defected, and narrowly missed death when he successfully landed his plane on an island in Polynesia. He settled down there and became a sugarcane magnate. However, it wasn't long before he felt the lure of cheese. With a few impromptu repairs, he fired up his old zero, flew to Wisconsin, and plowed it into an empty field. He emerged from the subsequent ball of fire and started the Dynamic Super Excite Cheese Company on that very site.

"Can I borrow a cup of sugar?" asked Kooky.

"I'll do you one better than that, why don't you set down and have dinner with us, Kooky?"

Before Kooky had a chance to answer, Jim had ushered him to the dinner table, along with the rest of the motley bunch.

"Irene, how about gettin' Kooky a plate?"

"Well then, we'll just have to go out to eat. My treat everybody!"

They all excitedly ran for the door, flew down the elevator, and sprinted to Jim's MG. No one was really in the mood for cabbage stew anyway. After much deliberation, they finally found a seating arrangement that allowed them all to fit. Jim had to insist that Irene leave her shopping cart behind.
It wasn't long before they were cruising down the streets of Greenbay.
0 Replies
Reply Wed 14 Apr, 2010 07:50 am
It was slow at work yesterday, so I wrote an ending to this idiotic story.

They all arrived at Jim's favorite swanky restaurant -- TGI Friday's. Jim, Irene, and Kooky hopped out of the car and were immediately approached by the red jacketed valet parking attendant.

"Hello Mr. Palicka, may I park your car for you?" asked the attendant.

"Sure, you can, old boy," Jim replied with a bad English accent.

But before Jim could toss the attendant his keys, Irene said, "Jim, don't forget the Marceaus!"

"Oh yeah," Jim walked over and opened the MG's trunk. Mr. and Mrs. Marceau crawled out and dusted themselves off.

"I almost forgot you Marceau," Jim said, as he slapped Mr. Marceau on the back. He tossed his keys to the attendant.

"IS EVERYBODY HAPPY?!" asked the smiling waiter.

"WOW! You bet we are," exclaimed Jim, seeming to channel the waiter's exuberance.

"Mr. Palicka," said the waiter, "that was a great game today, sir! You really let that quarterback have it. Is he going to be OK?"

"Yes, just a concussion," Jim sighed.

"That's too bad."

Jim's eyes narrowed, "That quarterback is a pedophile."

"REALLY?" the waiter's jaw dropped. "How did you find out?"

"Coach told me just before the game started. You wouldn't believe how many quarterbacks in the league are miscreants. Coach only tells us defensive men, because he knows we can handle it," Jim said proudly.

"Amazing!" replied the waiter, "what can I get everyone?"

Jim said, "I'll have the cheeseburger shish kabobs."

"An excellent choice, sir!"

"Um, I'll have a can of sardines, unopened, please" said Irene.


Mr. and Mrs. Marceau indicated through a series of gestures, that they would share a plate of cognac shrimp with beurre blanc.

"Magnifique, and for you sir?" The waiter turned to Kooky.

"I have cheddar sushi marinated in 26 and a half fruid ounces of Kentucky bourbon."

"That's one of my personal favorites; we'll get these right out," said the waiter, then he clanked off to the kitchen.

Jim and his entourage engaged in casual conversation during their meal, and when they finished, they returned to their previous seating arrangement in Jim's car.

On the trip back to the Regency Tower and Bowling Alley, Jim put his Joe King Carrasco and El Molino cassette in the player and turned it up all the way.

As Jim parked the car, he suspiciously eyed a gang of professional bowlers, all in matching shirts, who loitered outside. Everyone exited the car, including the Marceaus and started to make their way warily past the gang. But as they got closer, the bowlers moved to block them from entering the building. The bowlers surrounded Jim's group and began making cat calls to the women and insults to the men.

Jim knew from his early bowling experiences, that the lawless nature of bowling teams was not to be taken lightly. They were usually from broken, dysfunctional, homes and life was cheap to them.

Jim said cautiously, "come on guys break it up."

The apparent leader of the bowling gang sneered, "whatcha gonna do about it, football player?"

"Look fellas, we don't have a beef with you, let us pass," Jim responded.

The entire gang of bowlers broke into laughter, but abruptly stopped when their leader waved his hand. He took out a comb and adjusted his greasy ducktail.

"I'd like to let you by, but you haven't paid the toll yet, football player."

Jim's anger was growing and he wasn't going to stand much more. He leaned into the bowling leader's face.

"How about a bowl-off, fella? We'll see who can get past who," Jim said while punching his finger into the other's chest.

The bowler grinned and followed protocol - he accepted the challenge.

As they all rode the elevator to the revolving bowling alley, Jim began to realize the full impact of his challenge. He hadn't picked up a bowling ball in years.

The revolving bowling alley was arranged so that the lanes were perpendicular to the central axis of the building, forming a kind-of multi-pointed star, with the pins nearest the center. The circumference of the round building was floor to ceiling plate glass.

Mr. Marceau went first. With impeccable form, his arm swung forward and straightened for the release. He watched excitedly for the pins to fall, however, none would ever fall for the Marceaus for they only pretended to bowl.

Jim rested his head in his hands, as he realized he was in trouble. When Jim's time came, he found it very difficult to concentrate as the city lights seemed to be constantly moving around the glass walls of the revolving building. He also had difficulty overcoming the centrifugal forces that worked against him. Part of the genius of the building's design allowed the owners to save thousands as there was no need for ball returns.

Kooky had been closely observing the bowling gang. "Jim, I've gotten a crose rook at their balls."

"Yeah, so?" Jim asked, disgustedly.

"You've heard of shaved dice haven't you?" asked Kooky.

"Yeah," then Jim realized the full implication, "You mean they're playing with shaved balls?"

"Exactry! They've got them fixed to increase their probabirity of strikes. And there's nothing in the rules against it."

"Kooky, we've got to get our hands on their balls. But I can't just walk over there and ask for 'em."

"You can't, but how about Irene and Mrs. Marceau? These hoodlums are enamored with them."

"You may have something, Kooky."

Jim and his friends formed a huddle and whispered their plans. Everyone agreed on a plan. The women sauntered over to the gang. While Irene flirted, Mrs. Marceau discretely switched the rigged balls with regular ones and hid them strategically in her leotards.

With the new balls, Jim's game improved, while the gang's fell flat; Jim's team won narrowly and suspensefully. It turned out Jim was being watched by a scout that night who recruited Jim to bowl professionally.

Jim's new career allowed the Palickas to move into a mansion in a very exclusive neighborhood. Irene no longer pushed wobbly shopping carts; she could afford really good ones that didn't wobble.

The Marceaus went on to open a speech therapy school for kids who cain't talk good.

The Dynamic Super Excite Cheese Company prospered. But just days before Kooky's 80th birthday, while flying his private plane, he was struck by a goose. As the plane spiraled towards the ground, he succumbed to the final stages of dropsy.
Reply Wed 14 Apr, 2010 07:57 am
Extremely well written and entertaining but your bleeding mad...nice one, really enjoyed it..made my afternoon at work..Thanks xris
0 Replies

Related Topics

What inspired you to write...discuss - Discussion by lostnsearching
It floated there..... - Discussion by Letty
Small Voices - Discussion by Endymion
Rockets Red Glare - Discussion by edgarblythe
rate this rap - Discussion by theprofessor
Short Story: Wilkerson's Tank - Discussion by edgarblythe
The Virtual Storytellers Campfire - Discussion by cavfancier
1st Annual Able2Know Halloween Story Contest - Discussion by realjohnboy
Literary Agents (a resource for writers) - Discussion by Craven de Kere
  1. Forums
  2. » A Story of Wisconsin
Copyright © 2022 MadLab, LLC :: Terms of Service :: Privacy Policy :: Page generated in 0.04 seconds on 12/06/2022 at 07:06:01