Grechin Cooley, Benjaman's Divorced Mother from "The King Smells Like Formaldehyde"

 

Give Me My Flowers

VERSE 1

I heard the words that no child should hear

“Your dreams are dead, no one will shed tears”

I carried them with me like brain cancer cells

And I survived my own schizophrenic hell

 

PRE-CHORUS 1

No, I don’t need the Medal of Freedom

I’ve seen who won and I don’t need to be them

Serve humble pies so my abusers can eat them

Poison the crusts so I can slay all my demons

 

CHORUS 1

Give me my flowers

Do it for hours

Give me my power

Give me my flowers!

 

VERSE 2

I did the math at the expense of my sanity

I took the pills at the expense of my vanity

And all I got was a damn piece of paper

That says nine-to-five is my one true savior

 

PRE-CHORUS 2

No, I don’t need the Medal of Honor

Though life is war when it only gets harder

Tell my teachers that it’s okay to forget me

Their C’s and D’s make it okay to regret me

 

CHORUS 2

Give me my flowers

Before they sour

Death to the cowards

Give me my flowers!

 

BRIDGE

They tell me it was so many years ago

As if it was something I would never know

Without their reminders and beige prose

Is it any wonder why I will not let go?!

 

CHORUS 3

Give me my flowers

Grown from spring showers

Wilt within hours

Give me my flowers!

Give me my flowers

On your own power

Say I deserve them

Water and serve them!

Tooty-Fruity

VERSE 1

The flowers, the flowers, seductive power

The rose, the rose, the purple prose

The trees, the trees, swinging in the breeze

Tooty-Fruity!

VERSE 2

The sky, the sky, enough to make you cry

The clouds, the clouds, beautiful and proud

The sun, the sun, nature’s cinnamon bun

Tooty-Fruity!

VERSE 3

Roses are red, the classics are dead

Lilacs are white, Pulitzer blight

Violets are blue, elitist culture crew

Tooty-fruity!

BRIDGE

An onion has layers and so does poetry

Peace and quiet is what you’re owing me

I’ll ply my craft in my own fucking way

Heavy metal madness is here to stay

VERSE 4

The love, the love, it’s what you shove

The tears, the tears, the least of my fears

Emotions, emotions, eyes like oceans

Tooty-Fruity!

Incelbordination, Chapter 22

Now that Oswald’s eyes had been wrung completely dry and his heart was shattered and glued back together multiple times, the final piece of the puzzle involved the bouquet of roses he cradled in his little arms. Where Tuomas Magnus had none, somebody else would inherit these fragrant, gorgeous red roses. Oswald took an extra sniff of them as if to mask the sadness crippling him from the inside. By the time he made it to the graveyard, somebody was already there paying tribute.

Kneeling and praying over Jessica Bradley’s grave was a redheaded woman who looked old enough to be her sister. Whoever she was, she delicately laid a Disney tapestry over the gravestone to go with the rest of the flowers mourners had sent. Jessica loved Disney movies. The Mickey Mouse heads on the tapestry were a lovely touch. The tears in this mystery woman’s eyes hydrated the grass beneath while her sobs were only heard by the most delicate ears.

The woman turned around and wiped the wetness from her face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there until now.”

“No problem,” said Oswald with a face longer than his body. He limped over to Jessica’s grave and gently laid his bouquet of roses underneath the Mickey Mouse tapestry. The little guy sighed as he tried to suppress his tears, though they wouldn’t be completely out of place in a setting like this.

“So…how did you know my sister?” asked the young lady.

Not wanting to let on how they actually met, Oswald said in his most genuine tone, “We were friends. She taught me how to come out of my shell.”

The woman smiled as she wiped her face yet again. “I wish people would remember her for that instead of what she had to go through. It’s not her fault at all. I just…I just wish I could have done something about it.”

At the risk of being unfairly labeled a perv, Oswald made the first move when he placed his hand on the sister’s shoulder. “Whatever happened between you and Jessica, it’s not your fault.”

The sister gave an alarmed look at Oswald’s hand, but not for the reason the little guy thought. “What happened to your knuckles?”

“It’s a long story, one that I’m not quite ready to tell just yet. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you and your sister. I came here to pay my respects. I just wish there were more roses surrounding her grave.”

Without warning, the sister hugged Oswald and soaked his shoulders with an even greater abundance of tears. Being overwhelmed by all of this emotion wore off eventually when Oswald hugged her back. He wasn’t about to get into the semantics of hugging a complete stranger when he himself just came from a cuddle therapy session with someone named Kristen Jealous.

Once the sorrowful embrace broke, the sister said, “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Sarah-Jane.”

“I’m Oswald. Nice to meet you.”

Sarah-Jane smiled as the two of them shook hands. “That’s an unusual name.”

“My full name is Oswald Roman Crow. My initials spell ORC.”

Sarah-Jane giggled. “That’s funny. My mom’s name is also Sarah-Jane, but her maiden name was Walter. So her initials used to spell SJW.”

The two of them shared a laugh together and hugged once again. “You see this?” said Oswald. “This is what life should be about: two people sharing a laugh and having fun together.”

“I could have told you that. I just wish I could have told Jessica that before she decided to…do what she did. I don’t think she ever got enough love back home. Heh, if that’s not the understatement of the year, I don’t know what the hell is.”

Knowing that the waters were properly tested, Oswald took his affectionate ways a step further by squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. This was so well received that she turned around and sat on her butt to get the full effect of the shoulder rub. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these. Are you sure your hands aren’t hurting? Those knuckles look like…”

Cutting her off, Oswald said, “It’s alright, I swear. My fists have been through worse.”

“Really now?” asked Sarah-Jane. “Seriously, what happened to your fists? I know you said this trip was all about Jessica and all, but I legitimately want to know.”

Oswald sighed and tucked his head, but never stopped squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “I don’t even remember how long ago this happened, but there was a terrorist attack on campus. I’m sure you probably heard about it in the media and hopefully secondhand information is all you have. I experienced this shit firsthand. The reason I have scarred knuckles is because I punched down a glass door to rescue someone. She swears I’m a hero, but I don’t feel like one right now. Some days I feel like I’ve done more harm than good.”

“Risking your life to save someone else’s doesn’t sound very cowardly to me. I think you should get a medal just for that.”

The little guy stopped the massage and patted Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “They don’t give out medals to people who are unfairly suspected of being part of the group that attacked our school.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Sarah-Jane spun around and tenderly gripped Oswald’s shoulders. “The fact that you came by to leave roses on my sister’s grave is honorable enough on its own. Society doesn’t normally give two shits about teenage prostitutes. They’re all about saving the children, but when they need help the most, society turns their backs. So much for law and order.”

“Why do you blame yourself for your sister’s death?”

“Because I don’t even live in this city. I live a few counties over and…” The tears returned. “I didn’t even know what was happening to her. I had a career of my own, but I couldn’t even find the time to pick up the damn phone and send her a text message? I could have saved her, Oswald. If I didn’t live so far away…”

Oswald placed a fingertip on Sarah-Jane’s lips and said, “Enough. Like you said, you didn’t even know what was going on with her until now. There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing I or anybody else could have done either. If you want justice for her, then use your voice. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. It took me a while to learn that and I’m still slowly learning more about it…but if you want someone to help you with this…I’m here for you.”

“You just met me a few minutes ago, Oswald. How can you possibly want to help me now?”

“Because…if I do nothing, then things will only get worse. I’ve played the role of bystander and I’ve also played the role of fuck-up. I want to do good things with my life from now on and if that means helping you through this dark time, then so be it.”

Sarah-Jane cupped Oswald’s face in her hands. “You’re a sweet guy. I don’t know you that well, but you’re a sweet guy. And you’re a teddy bear, too.”

The two of them smiled while Oswald’s face reddened at the teddy bear comment. Their faces were only inches away from each other. It only seemed right. Was Oswald ready to make that next move or would this be considered too desperate? Could he do the unthinkable and…kiss her? The thought made his hands sweat and his throat dry. This woman was hurting enough as it was. He didn’t need to make things worse with a kiss. But then Sarah-Jane pulled her face even closer and…

“Oh-ho-ho-ho….he-he-he…ha-ha-ha…and I thought MY jokes were bad,” said a familiar husky voice as a behemoth of a man cast his shadow over Oswald and Sarah-Jane, completely breaking up their loving moment.

Miss Bradley’s breathing quickened while Oswald’s was deeper and hoarser. The little guy clenched his fists, furrowed his brows, and tightened his teeth. “Wacey…this is neither the time nor the place for your sick and twisted bullshit. We’re in a graveyard, for shit’s sake!”

“Oh, I think this is the perfect time and place for this, little guy. We ARE in a graveyard. The only thing that’s missing is a tombstone with your name on it. Who knows? Maybe I’ll carve one for your newfound girlfriend over here.”

Dead Roses

VERSE 1

Sitting in a vase all precious and pretty

Nothing for the soul that feels so shitty

Nothing for the heart made of chiseled stone

Nothing for the man who feels all alone

Dead roses are just a pile of corpses

Taken away by the devilish forces

You’re not a lover, you’re an undertaker

Sending men to their graves to meet their maker

CHORUS 1

Dead roses on a coffee table

Dead roses, the coffin’s nails

Dead roses with vampire thorns

Dead roses never again to be born

VERSE 2

The sweetest flower, a symbol of love

Gifted to me by an angel from above

I was never a knight in shining armor

A dancing fool with no dance partner

A fool for believing in fairy tales

When the simplest flirt ends in a fail

A prisoner of my own steel cage

A life sentence full of quiet rage

CHORUS 2

Dead roses in a padded cell

Dead roses burning in hell

Dead roses with stinger blades

Dead roses of wilting shades

BRIDGE

A loaded trap with the easiest bait

A dying romance with a sealed fate

A garden of roses, a rotting cemetery

A collection of souls so incendiary

VERSE 3

You’re not an angel, but a mere mortal

You’re not a hero of love, too immoral

You’re a soldier of fortune, a mercenary

Another burden that my heart must carry

All I have left are these wilted roses

Offensive to the least sensitive noses

Another plant gave its life for nothing

Another symbol for wasted loving

CHORUS 3

Dead roses in a garbage can

Dead roses to your biggest fan

Dead roses on the casket lid

Who the hell are you trying to kid?

Fights and arguments, war and peace

Only death could make it all cease

You made me fall in love with you

And slashed my heart right in two

"Lonely Day" by System of a Down

As someone who spends his days waiting for rides to the grocery store and figures to come up on my Deviant Art, Good Reads, and Smash Words accounts, I can appreciate how crippling boredom is. “Lonely Day” by System of a Down happens to be about boredom. But to me, it holds a very special meaning. Back in 2006, I had a best friend on Deviant Art named Colleen. The two of us were working on a tandem novel together. I don’t share my workload with anybody, so that said a lot about how much I valued Colleen’s friendship. It was my turn to write a chapter and I chose to do a dream sequence where one of the main characters, Morgan Gat, was at a high school dance. Everybody was dancing in each other’s arms and in some cases making out…except for Morgan. Morgan got all dressed up in fancy clothes, bought a bouquet of flowers, and showered with Axe products. You know who he did this for? Anybody who would pay attention to him. When nobody wanted to dance with him, he got frustrated to the point of boiling hot blood and salty wet tears. He did something that no high schooler should have to do: he went outside and dropkicked the bouquet of flowers into the parking lot. After the flowers covered some distance, Morgan caught up with them again and began double-stomping them until they were ripped to shreds. Everybody stuck-up girl inside that gymnasium did the same thing that night, except with Morgan’s heart. And then there was Colleen’s character in the parking lot. For the life of me, I can’t remember the character’s name, but she did something that touched Morgan’s heart in a profound way. She slow-danced with him to “Lonely Day”. “Such a lonely day should be banned. It’s a day that I can’t stand.” It was the most magical moment that could ever exist between two people. Years later, though, the novel would be scrapped due to inactivity and even further into time, Colleen broke off her friendship with me when she got a new Deviant Art account and blocked mine. What motivated Colleen to hate me all of the sudden, I’ll never know. It must have had something to do with the fact that I would continually call her “Colleen-Pie”. But is that really a reason to break off a beautiful friendship with someone? Thanks to her, “Lonely Day” has a brand new meaning to me. In addition to the boredom I feel at home, I also feel betrayed by Colleen and rightfully so. Even so, I will not let a good storyline go to waste. In my short story queue for the WSS group on Good Reads, I still have the flower kicking gimmick and it’s still going to take place at a high school dance. But this time, we’re going to do it right. It’s going to be one of my masterpieces, with or without Colleen.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“This week on Cheaters, John discovers that his barista girlfriend is putting the cream topping on another man’s coffee.”

-Bob Magruder narrating “Cheaters”-