The Coquetries Of SUCK FACE BLOW: November 2006

SUCK FACE BLOW - Professional Autographer

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

PROFESSIONAL AUTOGRAPHER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/26/2006

How could everyone else have missed it?

Of course I should recant that as I again realize just what it was... more so is, that makes it all the more possible for me to find such ease in greatness. That reason being the inept disposition of most everyone else in society I suppose.

In so many words, I guess I shouldn't poke a gift horse in the butt with too many questions about why it is that no one else saw the opportunity. In fact, I should be praising those who's ardent efforts through the recent history of humanity have managed to dumb society down to such a level as even replacing the ability to discern the potentials of greatness with the ease of a gliding ball point!

I immediately set up shop! I had my mom call her friend at the pet store in the mall and arranged for a small space for me near the puppy window... but not quite in front of the corn dog clown.

I didn't even have to get a business license right away, since it was an entirely new genre of business exchange. Most people didn't even know how to classify it... but that was my immediate advantage as I scribbled away and raked in the big bucks, while the official guys sat around scratching their heads.

Even on the first day, the line just to get to my little table there in mall, was stretched all of the way around to the movie theater. It had the guys there, picking up on teenagers to do cheep porn, in literal fits of jealousy.

I was cooler than Rango's drum solo in Rucky Raccoon!

I had every nuance of human greatness ever even considered as they just kept coming and coming. Waiting sometimes for hours on end just for a glimpse and a few empty words... and of course, the opportunity to continue their day having gained the stain of my inexpensive ball point pen on some scrap of paper... which of course, proved that they had been in my presence.

If only for a few brief seconds.

It most definitely had to be cooler than that drum solo... and hotter even, if I may say... than Danny boy and his presumed six shooter.

I knew what Rango must have felt like as the girls all swooned and awaited that simple little moment in an otherwise, rather drab song about some character of fiction and a silly love triangle.... which of course, Rango did of his own and therefore, made the entire song worth while.

It was the accent in music that will not soon be forgotten..... the display of a deft ability that few others would ever realize.... except myself, of course... now being a professional autographer.

I was slightly amazed at first, as it was that I couldn't figure out why no one was even concerned with what it was I may have been involved with that could lend such a coolness to my simple autograph. Especially to the tune of being as cool as that drum solo... but again, I found myself just going with the flow anchored firmly in that previously mentioned ideology of not ruining a good thing with far too many questions....

...and further, questions which might have jeopardized something so seemingly cool and timeless within the very limited scope of modern society... as a person might actually see that drum solo if they were to consider... only for an instant - the vast potential within existence, and of course the impermanence which goes along with it.

Impermanence that is.... if you don't happen to be Rango, or as cool as that drum solo.

After a few days of autographs in front of the pet store I began to get a little bored... I started to wonder just why it was that the porn guys were so upset... then I realized that it was harder for them to get young girls to participate in their films for as little as twenty bucks... when there was something as cool as Rango's drum solo near by.

It did make me begin to consider some things though... like why not make a few movies of my own? The girls seemed to be into it... even for as little as a twenty dollar bill. Why couldn't I get the same kind of action from my obviously sought after autograph?

It was worth well more than twenty bucks.... and I was Suck Face Blow... how could the girls pass up the chance to have such a good time and make a few movies?

All I needed now was a video camera... of that much I was sure.... and a few more inexpensive ball point pens of course - just to make sure I could compensate the young ladies for their time and all.

I'm like that you know? Always looking to make the square deal available in anything I might endeavor to accomplish.

Especially when it comes to the ladies. They deserve the best a guy can offer, regardless of how he may procure it.

That just goes as an unspoken truth, even for Suck Face Blow, Professional Autographer.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Bathroom Announcer

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

BATHROOM ANNOUNCER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/15/2006

After spending some time as a parrot... I actually managed to hone my oratory skills through the incessant repetition that was employed in teaching me how to talk. In fact, I got so good at it.. that I briefly considered becoming an auctioneer... but then I realized that something like that would probably be far too exciting for me, just coming out of a hiatus and all.

So I decided to use the newly developed auction like skills as a bathroom announcer!

When I found my way out of the large bird cage and back into some semblance of normal life... I promptly began to frequent public restrooms to get a little practice in before hitting the big time again in the more up-scale restrooms and private clubs.

I found a huge response even in the smaller practice sessions at train stations and recreation areas. It was of course, an instant hit! So I decided to keep the more turgid aspects of my new artistry and skills, to a minimum.

Most people seemed to respond more when it was that I threw a little race track feel into the jargon... as I went through the day announcing the activities of and within which ever public restroom I happened to be gracing with my incredible bathroom announcer skills.

My parents were immediately impressed when it was that I demonstrated such prowess at home. They were mostly surprised that I spent my time as a parrot in such a productive manner.... I might even say they were somewhat proud of my endeavor.... and it definitely showed in the fact that my mother went right out to the trophy shop and had a special bathroom announcer trophy made, just for me.

I had done it again without even the slightest of intention to become incredibly magnificent and great!

In a short period of time as a bathroom announcer, I managed to create some rather memorable moments for myself as well as many of the unwitting participants. Some of the more beneficial moments weren't all my doing though, as anyone could guess.

It was mostly a combination of great timing and a sort of "cold read" when the people would enter the restroom. Then of course, the efficient use of things such as impending flatulency, and that ever present discharge one can always find at the urinals.

When it was timed just so... the result was no less than impressive given the various contributions in that social setting and of course of the "movements" and activities.

Until I actually did it, I really had no idea that there was so much to lend attention to in the announcing biz concerning public restrooms.

In the "down time" I just filled my announcing with reading the graffiti out loud. There is something to be said for the acoustics's of even the most common looking public facility. Especially in the ladies room for some reason.

Everything always seems a bit more civilized in there and the issues one can find to work into an announcing gig in the ladies room are far more diverse than those a person will find in the men's room.

Even the sounds are somehow more appealing.

Not that they are that much different mind you... but for some reason they are just a bit more conducive to announcing. Like they were made for the airwaves where the men's room effects need a little more work to smooth out the rough edges.

Another popular area within the bathroom announcing, was in the consistent depiction of toilet paper usage. Not so much perforated square by square coverage that is, but the potentials for near out right poetry in orating the entirety of the activity in such usage.

It really is quite similar to a dance... if not a living verse of sorts. Each one a little different than the previous.

Those quiet (mostly quiet anyway) private moments needed some spicing up... and I was just the guy to do it.

How could it be anyone else? I was Suck Face Blow.

Before long I was more than ready for the "big show" as it were... but being who I am, I opted to stay in the "minors" and coach the up and coming bathroom announcer's along. I just felt it was more my calling... there is just a certain allure to the public arena. Something you can't just walk away from.

A mystique if you will, that echo's through the centuries.

SUCK FACE BLOW - PARROT

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

PARROT!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/15/2006

I found myself thinking one day... more so considering the enormous amount of success I have experienced in my life thus far.. and it occurred to me that I could use a break from the hectic pace of being unsurpassed in so many areas of existence.

It posed a problem. A problem that even I was having some time with figuring out how to deal with.

What could someone such as myself do in the direction of finding something to "not be doing" with my time? It seemed like any little endeavor almost exploded and over flowed with what other people would call great success.

To me, it was becoming somewhat of a burden and I was starting to feel like I could really use some time off.

Then it dawned on me. In a huge flash of realization in considering how cool it was to have been so successful with training parrots.

I could simply be one! It was no more complicated than that. I would just become a parrot for awhile. It would be easy enough to do and I was sure I could do it successfully realizing instantly that the most difficult part would be in convincing who ever purchased me as a parrot that they were actually teaching me how to talk and do those other parrot things that of course, I was already far and away, a master of.

That would be the most precarious aspect of becoming a parrot to get a little time off. I would most definitely have to use caution in presenting the illusion that who ever was supposedly training me, was actually doing so. If I blew it.. they would most likely know immediately that I was not a parrot.. and then probably get angry and try to return me to the pet store.

I would have to practice playing dumb for awhile. I would most definitely have to practice acting like I couldn't already talk just to insure the satisfaction of the purchaser... and then further within that, insure my retreat in some form of enjoyable longevity. I would most definitely have to be careful not to use the perch for exercising when the people were around... that would be kind of a give away too, I thought.

A little consideration would be the least I could do considering the size of cage they would have to purchase along with me, from the pet store. It wouldn't be very much fun if they found out that I wasn't a parrot... especially if they found out too soon.

Man was I glad I had connections! It would be a cinch to get myself in the display window of the pet store in the mall..... I could just get my mom to call her friend that worked there and I would be in! In fact, I would bet that they could make sure someone bought me right away.. just so I could start my relaxing get away all the sooner.

Suck Face Blow was going to enjoy some leisure time as a parrot, and there wasn't anything anyone else could do about it. My fans would just have to wait for a while.

SUCK FACE BLOW - PARROT TRAINER

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

PARROT TRAINER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

No big surprise that I am somewhat of a trend setter.... But one of my favorites that has brought me much notoriety and success has been that of being a parrot trainer. Pleasurable I might add, as well!

Sure, anyone can teach them to talk.... and I do that to some extent.... but my claim to fame is much more notable.

I am the guy that first taught them to sit on the perch. Before I set such standards in Parrot training, all they did was flop around the bottom of the cage. It was quite the break through! Needless to say, people are much more satisfied with their parrots now that it has caught on in a broader sense.

It just made sense to me standing there watching a parrot just flounder in the cage one day.

Why not put a stick in there and teach it to sit on top of it? I thought to myself.

It proved to be a great move needless to say, and improved the sale of parrots almost unimaginably.

They instantly became more likable. More of a feasible pet, no less. Particularly in the sense that a person no longer had to crane their neck over the edge of the cage just to look at a floundering bird rolling around on some newspaper.

The guy that first started to teach them to talk was kind of mad. Though he never admitted it, I bet it was like one of those "why didn't I think of that" kind of seizures after he noticed the first few sitting on the perch.

At first it was kind of difficult to get them to move around the cage without just flopping to the bottom again and waiting to be fed... but once I managed to get them to associate their food with hopping over to a bird feeder... it caught on as well, much in the manner of mimicry.

One bird would see another one enjoying some tasty snacks... and as I said, at first they thought just falling to the bottom of the cage and wiggling around would get them food.... but soon, as they noticed one another moving around, it was no longer a challenge to teach that part of perching to them. I knew I was becoming more successful as I noticed fewer and fewer "thuds" accompanied with squawks and the bustling of feathers flitting around.

Soon, I franchised the idea.... it was just the only thing to do as more and more people were pirating the concept of teaching parrots to perch.

I still have trouble collecting the residuals for the patents. It was just one of those instant successes that brought with it a huge amount of scavenging in the form of copycats.

I still enjoy it though, just knowing I have managed yet another contribution to the world. Whenever I see a parrot on a perch, I smile a little inside knowing that things are just a little better because of a little old fashioned know-how, as it were.

Besides that, it reminds me that I am none other than Suck Face Blow. And who wouldn't be happy about that?

SUCK FACE BLOW - Television Astronaut

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

TELEVISION ASTRONAUT!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/09/2006

There was really no contest. I was easily the best television astronaut that ever lived!

I had plenty of practice when I was a kid. It started out with small channel changing exercises that my dad would over see between beers. It was my job to sneak up on the television (so as to practice space sneaking), and then change the channel to the scheduled programming that my father and I went over no less than twice per week.

I was in training and there was no confusing the matter!

Pretty soon, I was changing the channels before my father even began to think about activating the channel switching signal from the Captains chair. It was almost like I was part of the ship before long.

When the old man wasn't around, I most times found myself practicing other routines... just to maybe get an early promotion for showing above and beyond the call of duty kind of astronaut stuff. My ol' man was good like that. He knew talent and he rewarded good performance!

That is a true sign of a good Captain.

As I grew older, into my pre-teen years, he found it was time to "graduate me" some to actual astronaut programs. Nothing of the silly training camp sort of program, but the real deal on T.V. kind. I could say the entire dialogue between Earth and the Moon Shot in under three viewings consecutively.

I was definitely going places.

About the same time period as getting some real experience with television shows about space, my old man thought it might be good to get some :outside practice" just to make sure my motor functions could operate in another atmosphere. He even built a small box like space capsule in the shrubs so I could get the feel for being in confined spaces for long periods of time.

I did still get breaks from training though... most of the time to get more beers. But I am sure that was just good use of scheduling skills on my dads part. He was good like that, too. Always an efficient leader.

It took me some years to realize that I only went into "outside training" when the first models of remote controlled television came out. It only had to do with us and my training because we invented it. More showed them how it was done with our everyday regimented training schedule. The old man made sure I knew that much in our secret "need to know" situation. He wanted to make sure I understood how serious the outside training box was to my career.

I knew it. I could sense it. I was on my way to being a true television astronaut.

It just couldn't be any other way... I was Suck Face Blow.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Estates Attorney

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

ESTATES ATTORNEY!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/07/2006

I had a great idea the other day!

Why should only the people who's names appear on the original estate wills, be the only people that get the money and other properties?

It just didn't seem fair... and it wasn't long before I found several celebrity personalities and other business interests which agreed with me. It is just so hard to get money that can be spent in those high profile situations. It only made sense that not only did they deserve to have a part (or all in some cases) of other people's estates, but that it was really the only rightful thing to do!

After all, they are famous and they know people.

I got to looking at all of the estates being held in trust (wonderful oxymoron there) waiting for some time line to expire before they are to be remitted, and it occurred to me that someone could be livin' it up and spending that money NOW! No one would really object if it were that they could be in on it, right!

I called my buddy with the online college connections, and he went ahead and printed me up a degree so I could begin this new business venture. It was most likely going to be the biggest success I had ever experienced!

I had it all covered... including the professional integrity thing, seeing that I could just say that such a statement meant "not getting caught by someone you don't know." I was a shoe in to be a lawyer.

The first thing I would do is find out who it was that had the biggest estates... and the ones that were due soon. The age of the person didn't matter much beyond 18, as the easiest way to do it was to say they did something bad and maybe that they owed someone something, and everyone wouldn't like them... and then that we could just handle it "between chums" so to speak....

....then of course is the computer program that does nothing but spew acceptable excuses for when questions have to be answered.

There was no way this wasn't going to make everyone that hired me, wealthy beyond their wildest dreams!

So what if it was other people's rightful due, this was just too good and easy! Besides, before long, everyone would be doing it and then there would just be no end to all of the free money! And further, fewer and fewer questions to answer about oaths and contracts and all that silly "old" lawyer stuff. Exestentially speaking, we are all one another anyway, right?

This was going to be a new generation movement in itself! We could always just make something up if things got too tight with people actually looking at reasons to maintain some form of actual credibility.

Modern communications should get all the credit... it isn't easy to slander someone these days without light speed networking. Heck, I already had loads of lawyer friends just ready to jump at the "new way to do things."

Easy street was well within my grasp... and anyone else's that knew a good deal when they saw one.

Suck Face Blow had another sure fire way to the upper most parts of society... and this time, it was through everyone else's legal contracts.

If you just remove the silly stipulations about the meaning of "legal," it all gets soooo simple.

Why didn't someone think of it sooner?

I bet the gods were just saving such a great idea for none other than Suck Face Blow - estates attorney.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Professional Incriminater

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

PROFESSIONAL INCRIMINATER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/06/2006

A person could say I was some what of a tattle tale when I was younger.... but I knew, and so did my mother, that it was just the positive signs of a very bright future as a professional incriminater.

I can't remember a day that went by where the words "I'm telling" didn't cross my lips. Little did I know then that such a tendency meant nothing less than a shining future... that is, once I got beyond junior high and high school, and all of the ass whippings I managed to receive.

They just could not see the future I had in store!

Before I knew it, the tendencies which are usually used to get attentions as young children, managed to work their way into some considerable annoyances in my early and mid teens, then into an incredible career of setting people up and even saying that they did something directly to authorities in exchange for what ever praise or silly prize I could manage.

I even worked on a case once that lasted decades. the idea was just to keep this one guy incriminated so that in the politically correct arena of the day, he couldn't even manage gainful employment. It didn't even entail any real authority figures... just the inverted use of the modern politically correct atmosphere.

All I had to do was make sure that people... anyone, thought that the guy did something... anything even... as long as it was distasteful.

I had to appreciate the pride I felt in knowing I was very much a part of the display in the transition of society yet again, to a more deplorable and pitiable state of existence.

My take was pretty keen... I managed some welfare checks and some free cocktails which is nothing to sneeze at considering my humble beginnings as a tattle tail that never grew out of it.

I could even change the reason from day to day and people would still buy into it.

What a great gig! I got so good at incriminating that I could even to free form incriminating.... I could just make stuff up on the spot and it was as good as gold!

Of course, it took me some years to figure out that people don't really care as long as it isn't them being incriminated. In that, you could say I got my respect. People knew of my incriminater prowess and it showed... and the chicks dig a guy that has some sway. They really dig a guy that looks like he has it going on... you know, has control of the situation. That guy was me!

I was Suck Face Blow.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Hoinker

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

HOINKER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

Honk Oink

Many believe our existence to be within and of a Finite realm, so I guess it is just something I put together to do with my time. In so many words, I stand on the street corner and hoink at people.

I began with choosing a specific color to hoink at every day. Then a number I could derive from any series of numbers quickly summed for which to hoink at. Then after I got really good at hoinking, I combined the two and would only hoink at a number sum when it was associated with a specific color I had chosen for the day.

This was quite the challenge at first, but hoinking just kind of comes naturally to some.

I got the idea after noticing one day, the huge amount of horn honks a person could hear in the average day, within the common city atmosphere.

I then noticed that I personally had a tendency to oink at people. Just something I would find myself doing within those same, removed city social dynamics.

People never respond so I just kind of figured it was an alright way to pass the time.

If I see something I happened to like, I would oink at it. If I happened to see something of interest, again a pronounced oink. Something maybe turn my opinion from savory? Yet another reason to oink.

The girls never even respond, and I have to say that I chose the word "oink" specifically for the broad range of interpretations which are left to the recipient as per understanding. It could me you are a fat pig. It could me I am a fat pig. It could mean that you are so incredibly sexy that I would be glad to make animal noises with you. It could mean, within my self centered and heightened opinion of myself, that I think I am of the same caliber and further that I know you would enjoy making animal noises with me.

Naked and sweaty of course. Blistered and sore shortly there after... with an entirely new insight into the uses and potentials contained within the word "oink."

Now then, being that I am Suck FAce Blow, I knew there had to be something a bit further I could do with this... the consistency of horn honks and the considerable amount of things to oink at in the day gave me rise to the idea of combining the two.

Not the reasons to oink, and the honking - but the honking and the oinking themselves... which of course rendered the now world famous "hoink."

It drives the cabbies crazy knowing that someone out there has a hoinker! It wouldn't surprise me if every cabbie on the planet soon requested that hoinkers be installed in their cars.... it is just that magnificent!

So as I was stating, I found myself suddenly trapped in the imposed limitations of wide spread opinion pertaining to a finite realm... and decided I would need something to do with myself.

"Hoinking" was the only sure thing I could derive. It is my response to the incessant honking and other silliness a person has to tolerate simply walking down the street. I figure, if everyone else has to put up with the honking for no reason, then I may as well be able to hoink at my own will, and of course in the direction I have devised as per the issuance of said hoinks.

So far so good, but what else could be expected? I am Suck Face Blow, hoinker.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Suggester

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

SUGGESTER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/04/2006

Mother always told me never to under estimate the power of suggestion, so I decided to become a suggester by trade... and it seems to have worked.

I always thought I had a special knack for it.... especially in the kitchen at home when mother was heating up the T.V. dinners for myself and dad. I found myself always making such grand and seemingly correct decisions effortlessly!

"Turn the oven up a little" I would say and sure enough, once the oven was turned up a little, our t.v. dinners were ready faster!

"Change the channel" I would suggest even as a small child, and sure enough when the channel was changed on the television set, there was always something else to watch. Many times much more interesting than that which was on it previously.

In school I found myself singled out and picked on some.... this I attribute to that obvious talent of suggesting. The other kids just couldn't seem to accept such a talent in their midst so of course as those social things go, I found myself out of the crowd so to speak.

I was alright with knowing that someday they would return to me wanting me to share my talent with them.

That would be when I would really get some payback so to speak. They would be putty in my hands and even their very destiny would be mine to decide.... and through only simple suggestion.

I made a living for some time out on the street corner, suggesting things. "Hey, tie you shoe" I would say to a guy passing... then of course, seeing that I was correct in such a suggestion, he would gladly just hand me money. Most of my suggestions brought an average of twenty dollars per....

...but I don't like to brag.

I was great around the neighborhood. I even had little old ladies calling me for my services if it was that some work was being done on their house. My part usually entailed suggesting things to the work men plying their trade, just to make sure things went correctly.

I usually got an hourly wage and tips from those gigs. Sometimes the workers would even share their lunch with me.

I definitely had a talent.

Then as I was watching the evening news one day, it struck me that I should go out into the world just to see what I was really made of! I thought about it and wondered where my talents of suggesting would stand the greatest chance of success... and it hit me; VEGAS BABY! as the saying goes.

If not there, then I was sure they could use me on Wall Street.

I found employment almost immediately at the casino's... they had to make a new job description for me which they labeled "Suggester."

My duties found me usually in the pit, suggesting various things for the dealers, and even for the players much of the time.

In slower hours I found my way around the casino's making suggestions to many of the "slot jockeys" as we say in the business.

It was great work, a union job that got me meals and the tips I could take home, on top of my hourly wage.

Suggesting was everything I had ever imagined it to be!

After some years as a Suggester in Vegas, I did decide to make my way to the "big game" as they say. I headed right for Time Square to see how I stood up in person with all of the other professional suggesters displaying their physical versions in the form of advertisements.

I decided to "go bare knuckles" as the old saying goes.... and work the street, suggesting. I guess I missed the old days when the game was more exciting to me.

I hit the sidewalk and found myself an immediate success. In the same day I managed to suggest that a hand full of hot dog carts and some other street vendors would make more money if they did their thing "on the move" so to speak. To really make full use of the "moving aspect" built into the hot dog carts and stands.

"What do you think they put wheels on these things for" I would say when met with any sort of objection in reasoning... and sure enough, it proved to be some rather great suggesting as within days they were all dragging down almost twice the money they had been before they started selling their goods from the moving carts.

I think I managed to take advantage of the "dog like" qualities in people and appealed to their car chasing instincts.... but of course, this was only as result of simply utilizing sound assessment in putting the wheels on the carts to their obviously designed usage.

I practiced allot at home while watching television and again found incredible success percentages. Especially when watching sporting events. I got so good at suggesting when a quarterback should throw the ball, and when a batter should swing at the pitch... that a person might have thought that I was telling them what to do directly. Like there was a psychic connection.

I sat back the other night, after having suggested to myself that I recline in my easy chair... and I breathed a sigh of the sort of pride a person feels when considering the successes and failures in their life, and realizes that there are far more successes.

I was Suck Face Blow, suggester.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Karma Deserver Guy

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

KARMA DESERVER GUY!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/02/2006

I deserve so much karma it could make a llama sick!

I was noticing the other day, how much more deserving I was than the guys that supposedly have good karma. I should get their charm, too.

I am just that deserving of it. Even the karma cops and karma giver guys know it and once they find a way around the rules about karma, they are going to give me everyone's karma that I want.

It pays to know people... and it really pays to know un-suspecting people with good karma to get it from through special processes and special connections with the karma guys.

It would normally take centuries to get the kind of karma I deserve.... my mom doesn't know it, but all she wants is what is best for me. So that is a good enough reason. If I could, I would just get it on her credit card. that would be the best way to do it.

I used to just try to borrow other people's karma... like underwear or something, when they weren't at home...but that didn't last too long just because of how it gets burned up by people like me that deserve it so much.

Think about how hard it would be to explain a burned, half pair of underwear in your room mates sock drawer when he knows for sure that the dog didn't do it?

That alone could tarnish a persons level of karma deserving.... just because you would have to lie in a way that meant you weren't going to get away with the lie all of the way so as to preserve your good karma deserving-ness.

I would just throw them away. The underwear.

It would just be too risky to have to explain used underwear and not damage my karma-ness.

I am not even sure if I believe in it... but I do like the benefits of having other people think that I do... and then getting to use theirs. Besides it is kind of funny to watch someone with good karma try to say something about someone stealing theirs. Unless they know that it is alright to actually address the issue without damaging it. then it sucks because you end up looking really dumb... and like a karma hog, too.

If I could afford it, I would just hire someone to do the P.R. work so the karma giver guys would always know how much I deserved everyone else's karma....

...and my mom thinks I should have their bank accounts, too..... but that one is still in the works with the karma exchange.

Their laundry people are all backed up with used, burned underwear.

Even for me... and I am Suck Face Blow.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Brain Surgeon

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

BRAIN SURGEON!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/01/2006

I realized I was going to do it the moment I saw it pop up on the computer screen. It was as though I was made for it. I was just that sure.

You hear about the rip off ploys and spam games that go along with advertisements you can see everywhere on the Internet, but I am here to attest to the validity of one of them, in particular.

I am referring to the correspondence program which guarantees the participant a doctorate in Neuroscience, Neurosurgery and competition level dog shaving.

I was never even skeptical about it and I have been known to be somewhat suspicious of chicanery. I can see scams a mile away and was specifically taken with the foresight to include the dog shaving given how obviously inconvenient it would be to have to keep brushing the hair aside while carving into someones cranium. They were obviously on the ball!

I found I was entirely correct only months later when I received my certified Doctorate degree both through the email and some days later arriving in physical form, in the regular mail itself.

I could not wait to open my practice. I could see it now; Suck Face Blow- Brain Surgeon!

As I sat admiring my ready to frame diploma, the thought occurred to me that I should get some more practice in before I actually get any patients. Even though I had managed plenty in meeting the requirements of the program with the use of neighborhood pets and most of the guys hamster collection from upstairs.

I still just thought I would need a booster of sorts to get me on my feet. Something bigger... something a little more like the pressures of actual brain surgery.

As I considered it, I realized that my dad always took long naps... and if I did it right, he might not ever even notice.

I could sedate him long enough to sleep for an entire day, until the same time the next day when he would usually wake from his nap.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that there was no way he could notice if I was successful with my first lobotomy, as I was more than sure I would be. Then of course it would be "on to mother" just to give myself a little more confidence. After that, I decided, it would be time to open up shop as they say!

Who knows, if I got enough publicity I might end up with a great practice in residence at some fancy hospital where stars and stuff go.

In the mean time I was intent on keeping my dog shaving skills in good order, and even sponsored a neighborhood contest for style and speed which I actually ended up profiting from with the sales from the lemonade stand I had set up near by... knowing that all the dog hair would surely make people more thirsty.

I had that one figured from watching my cat after a good, long licking session. It always wanted something to drink just to wash down the fur ball I guess... but I figured it would be the same with a bunch of people around flinging strands of dog hair.

Someone was bound to be thirsty at any rate.

I even considered momentarily, in light of the profits from the lemonade stand, to forgo the brain surgery bit and just stick with what was working.... but then the better part of me spoke up again and kept me from just following the instant gratification and apparent promise in the lemonade stand biz.

I am glad that it did. There was something to be said about self respect and pride in individual achievements.

Most especially when it entailed now being able to say that I was Dr. Suck Face Blow, brain surgeon.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Prosecuting Attorney Firm

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

PROSECUTING ATTORNEY FIRM!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

You admit you did whatever we say, or we break your legs. Especially if you have accounts receivable that we can procure.

It's just fair like that. And the girls like it, too.

If that doesn't work, then we lock you in a single wide mobile home and starve you until it does.

If you won't play guessing games after that, then we just get your stuff and crack heads get to act like you have done something wrong.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Creepy Perv

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

CREEPY PERV!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/02/2006

The only difference between a regular guy and a creepy perv, is how many people you might know.

I didn't know that many people... besides my mom and dad... and my cat... and the neighbors dog used to like me allot, but that is between us... and that is how it will stay because otherwise my cat will get really jealous.

And so will my parents, now that I think about it.

Any way I look at it, it is just one of those things that is better savored and cherished to ones own self. We used to play fetch when no one else was awake at night.... and he wouldn't even bark at me when I jumped over the fence.

My cat doesn't like to play fetch like that. She is selfish. Adamant about staying clean... and soft.... and furry... and warm.... and soft.... and fun to pet.... but she is selfish.

She just looks at me in a blank stare when I say the secret code word that we agreed on when one of us wanted to play fetch.

Like she is just kind of teasing you while she sits there looking all soft and warm.... and soft and clean and purry.

My giant goldfish is wet and clammy. Kind of fun to play fetch with even though she (I like to think it is a she) isn't very good at it. She still tries really hard, flopping around and moving her fish lips, even though I usually have to pick her up and show here where the prize is before I put her back in the fish tank.

My parents like to participate, too. My mother can't get enough of it when I play fetch with my cat. Maybe because it doesn't happen that often these days. It must make it more fun since it is so infrequent. Like it is a real treat.

When I think about being Suck Face Blow - creepy perv, I really can't see it. Like I said, I just think it has to do with how many other people can relate to the level of ones perverse activities. Like in those self help groups. No one thinks anyone else is weird or anything.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Drive In Movie Theater Attendant

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

DRIVE IN THEATER ATTENDANT!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/02/2006

I always wanted to be more involved with the movie industry and I knew a guy once that had what must have been the most dreamy job anyone could want in the movie biz.

He had deep, sunken eyes that were kind of close together and always seemed to be shadowed with dark rings.

He wasn't all that pleasant. He didn't have much talent, if any at all... and when I knew him, he was a waiter but the chicks could not get enough of him.

It wasn't always like that for him though.... about the chicks, I mean. They wouldn't even say much to him until they found out that he used to be an attendant at a drive in movie theater. Then they were all over him. All of a sudden it was as if he were prince charming.

I just knew I had to get into the movie biz! It was always like there was nothing else to talk about after he figured out the connection between the drive in and the chicks getting all hot for him. I kind of figured there must be a connection, too. It was much more than a coincidence, even though he couldn't even figure why it never worked on the chicks when he was actually in the movie business... only years after he had done his stint did any of the girls take an interest to the connection with fame and stardom.

It must have been some veterans benefits of some sort. Something that go into effect until after a person is no longer affiliated with the motion picture industry. Like a retroactive retirement account of some sort where all of the fringe benefits are kept until they can be enjoyed with maturity or something.

Suddenly, as I was driving across country... I found my opportunity to break into show business and get my little piece of the land of milk and honey.

I was driving through Thermopolis, Wyoming one early evening... and there was the big, weather worn sign just standing like a beacon to my future;

RIO DRIVE IN

PICTURE SHOW

MOVIE THEATER

But it had a big CLOSED sign drawn across it with sloppy red paint.

I knew it was my chance!

I had noticed on the sign coming into town that Thermopolis was only about three thousand people, so I didn't figure anyone would mind... if they even found the want or energy to mind.

So I set up my gear.

I was prepared most definitely... without any doubt I had brought with me everything a person would need to make it in show business.

I had in the trunk, a medium sized large kind of projector, a folding card table to set it up on, extra light bulbs for the projector lamp, no less than ten reels of someones home movies I managed to steal before I left on my trip, and a huge plastic bag of popcorn I bought at the department store. It had to be five or six pounds itself.

I probably paid the difference in gas mileage that I saved at the department store when I bought it, just because of how much and how heavy it was.... but it was still worth it knowing it would help me make it in the biz.

I pulled into the lot where the drive in entrance was to the much welcomed sound of crunching gravel under the tires, and found that the chain had been broken that used to block the way which I knew immediately to be a good omen at the least.

I paused at the ticket booth where I was swarmed momentarily with memories from earlier years and thousands of miles away, of hearing the people in the front of the car swear that I wasn't in the trunk again.

It was almost a tearful moment that I knew held special meaning. Much more so than the obvious reminiscence qualities of warm memories. It was all in line. Show business was just waiting for my entrance upon the stage into the limelight. The world was my Styrofoam clam shell of chili fries and what is more, is that I knew it at that very moment.

I was about to make my debut as a drive in attendant and I could feel the excitement swelling in my chest.... and then in other places when I thought about how cool the chicks were going to think I was.... but my feet always swell a little when I get excited, it is just something about my blood pressure I guess.

I was even more glad as I parked the car and began to set up the projector thinking about how smart it was to swipe those home movies.

The guy wasn't using them anyway, and I needed something I could say was of my relation beyond my mother and father who never did anything exciting beyond family time watching the game show channel.

This would be great opportunity to watch them a few times and make stuff up about the people in them. Stuff that I could remember easily, but still exciting enough to make myself all that much more interesting to the talent scouts and the like. It wouldn't be that hard as they weren't "talkie" movies as they say in the biz... and I could get away with it pretty easy unless the talent guys could read lips or something.

Then there might be some explaining to do. But I was Suck Face Blow. I could wing it as good as the next guy!

If I was lucky, I could watch them all a few times before anyone else showed up here to watch them...... and buy some popcorn of course which I was sure to make loads of money on seeing how inexpensive it was and how much anyone could get away with charging for it at a movie theater.

It then occurred to me that I hadn't managed any popcorn box's! But I did notice through the dust on the old concession stand window, a stack of them sort of leaning over from the scientific effects of gravity and the length of time they must have been there.

I held out hope of easily gaining them given so few reasons to lock any doors at a closed down drive in with less than three thousand people near buy.

It wasn't like there were many weirdo's passing through or anything.

I'm sure I didn't draw any suspicions. I was Suck Face Blow - Drive In Attendant! And I am sure that it showed.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Spell Checker Add Word Guy

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

SPELL CHECKER ADD WORD GUY!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

11/02/2006

I began doing it just because I knew that no one else was really qualified. It was a good thing that I did because my shrink even told me that it was a good place for an outlet to my obsessive compulsive tendencies.....

I know it sounds weird that I would mis-spell any words to begin with... but I compensated for that through just going through the dictionary in my slower moments and adding words in.

It paid off in being one of the better things I have on my professional portfolio.

I used to just have a resume but figured that once I got a good start on the "add word" functions anywhere I could find them, that I should upgrade my resume to professional portfolio status.... and I was right.

The very first time I submitted my professional portfolio to a place for employment, I got the job... and it was right up my alley!

I joined one of those collaborative on line encyclopedias and was immediately met with all of the editing tasks I could handle in the work day.

I even quite my job and started editing the encyclopedia from home... even though I wasn't getting paid to do it. I figured it would look great on the portfolio... and I was right again.

Before I knew it, I was editing speeches at the White House. Sure, it was an entry level job that put me in charge of the hub cap checker captains daily delivery to his crew.... but it was still a great gig.

I even almost got to see where the President sits sometimes when he is waiting for the car to come around and pick up his laundry.

It was the best car wash job I ever had; "The White House Car Wash"

They were so professional that who ever was there the longest got to where the name tag that said "President" on it. That was usually one of the guys that really knew how to handle the rags and even got to talk to customers.

Even in my success though, I never forgot where I came from. I always made sure I had a little time every week to add a word or two into some random spell checker. Sometimes I even slipped a few in at lunch, but only after I had some time under my belt there at the White House.

A rookie can't just walk around like he owns the joint, in any business.

That is just the way that it is, even for Suck Face Blow.