posted by Graveyard Frank at 11:10 PM
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27 August 2006
13 August 2006
About Me
- Name: Graveyard Frank
- Location: Anytown, USA
Frank Trautman is the name of a cocoon of flesh and fentress wire living in the southeastern U.S. It’s a writer, scientist, husband and father. You know, important things. Eventually, a moth will scrabble out its throat, outspread dirty wings and fly. To heaven. Or Nebraska. Somewhere nice like that.
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Previous Posts
- The Swimmer (1968)
- Eden Log (2007) It is Christmas time in Puerto R...
- Funky Forest: The First Contact (2005) Frank and ...
- Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975)Francis Traut...
- Antichrist (2009) Ding. Dong. “GD Kansas! Again!...
- The White Ribbon (2009) Somewhere On the Path of ...
- Synecdoche, New York (2008) [Fans: Seems like goo...
- The Science of Sleep (2006) [Editor’s note: From ...
- The Brown Bunny (2005)[In fulfilling F.T.'s prece...
- Behind the Mask (2006)[We are continuing to publi...
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Ambrose Quibodeaux Confronts Destiny
Ambrose Quibodeaux was alternately toying with an old song on an even older accordion and sipping chicory from a mason jar when he first met Ambassador Alacazar, the elite head of the Board of Science and Ontology from the Planet Mungo.
Ambrose Quibodeaux had been for some time fingering the accordion and debating on either playing “You Are My Sunshine” or the “Mardi Gras Mambo,” as carnival season had descended upon St. Martin’s parish once again. However, refilling the glass with a sigh, he had come to the notion that the old thing has seen its last fais-do-do probably years past, and wouldn’t play anyhow.
Then upon looking up, he discovered the Ambassador across the table from him peering quietly over the edge. Ambrose was far from surprised by his visitor’s campy, elongated, green head, silver jumpsuit, and colorful spangles.
As Ambrose decided the little creature was an early entrant for the parade, the Ambassador reached for his universal translator, which was located on a big, glittering box on his chest, and turned the dial from Mungan (his own dialect), to Earth/Acadian.
Ambrose laughed “Bonsoir, mon ami!” and the Ambassador opened a lipless gray slit in the center of its face to speak:
“How y’all doren’, cher?”
