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"How To Create People"
As a writer I am allowed to invent people.
Today I'm making up Chuck Fulton.
Chuck Fulton was born in West Carrolton, Ohio, in 1967,
on his way to Buffalo.
He was just a month old when the West Carrolton Paper Box Company folded,
throwing his father out of work, and his mother into a conniption fit.
Lamps, pillows, kitchenware, everything,
was jammed into the old gray Hudson for the journey to Buffalo,
where they would stay with relatives until they got on their feet.
Chuck was born Charles Fulton Rash.
He later changed his name for several reasons,
which will become evident as we go along.
In seventh grade at P.S.56, Chucky Rash and Fannie Weaver fell in love.
(I just invented her, too.)
Chucky was attracted to Fannie
because she was the only girl in his class who didn't look like Buck Owens.
Fannie liked Chucky because he was the only boy interested in her.
She looked like David Letterman.
Chuck, as a child, looked like Sally Struthers.
He keeps his hair cut real short to offset it.
At 70 he will be an antique Sally in a buzz cut.
He always wanted to look like Anthony Quinn.
Inside, he feels like Anthony Quinn.
One day, behind the garage, Fannie said:
"I could never marry anyone named Chuck Rash", and he asked why.
She said: "It sounds like a disease you get from eating hamburger."
He said: "Fannie Weaver's not such a hot name either.
It sounds like somebody who sews up your butt."
So that's why he changed his name,
and she escaped becoming Fannie Rash.
Chuck was rejected by the army
because of a hernia he accomplished
while attempting to play "Flight of the Bumblebee" on a tuba,
in the high school band.
Chuck's an insurance salesman now,
after having bounced around in several lines of work.
He and Fannie have a baby boy, a year old,
and she's pregnant again.
The baby boy's name is John Rash Fulton,
and he will grow up to look like Anthony Quinn.
Chuck and Fannie don't like each other
as much as they did in school.
They will eventually be unfaithful to each other,
but they'd be shocked to hear that now.
Right this minute I'm placing a phone call to Chuck up in Buffalo.
A recorded operator says: "You have a collect call from..."
I shout: "THIS IS NOT COLLECT!"
Chuck is on the line now.
(As author, I have dissolved the recorded operator.)
Jack: "Hi, Chuck! How's it going?"
Chuck: "Who's this?"
Jack: "It's Jack Blanchard, your creator, dummy".
Chuck: "Is this a gag?'
Jack: "That's a corny line, Chuck. I don't write corny lines."
Chuck: "Is this call going to get obscene?"
Jack, angrily: "How's your hernia, Sally?
Would you like to play 'Flight of the Bumblebee' for us?"
Chuck: "How could you POSSIBLY know that stuff?"
Jack: "Not only do I know it, but so do all my readers,
and that ENDS our little argument, because I've HAD it with you!
Consider yourself dissolved!"
Chuck said, "Bull!" and hung up.
The recorded operator said to me: "Are you through, big shot?"
The only trouble with creating people is this:
You can't always dissolve them when you want to.
( There is no meaning to this story, hidden or otherwise.
Just file it under "Humor", and let it go. JB )
Copyright © September 17, 2001 by Jack Blanchard. All rights reserved.