“April is the cruelest month …”
—The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot
—The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot
- Ever since January got that art history Ph.D. from Brown he won’t stop coming to parties and going on about Michelangelo. Between you and me—January is the most pretentious month.
- February once told me that he had to be cruel to be kind sometimes, so I slept with his wife. I proved a point. He didn’t get it. February is not so quick on the upswing.
- March can eat a dick.
- It was May that first realized that my name is an anagram for “toilets.” And you know, there’s only so many times a guy can hear a joke before it gets really old. You listening, May? Really fucking old.
- I took June to a wedding once. She groped the bride, propositioned the groom, puked in the punch bowl, and fucked everyone up on the Electric Slide. Also I am pretty sure that she wasn’t wearing a bra. If that doesn’t paint a picture for you, then I don’t think anything will.
- I’m not going to say that July is a limp-wristed nancy. Or that you don’t want him on your company’s softball team. But his swing is less a bang than a whimper.
- You know how some people measure their lives in coffee spoons? August measures his life in missed alimony payments, jimmied locks, hours spent hiding under stairwells, and a lack of forwarding addresses. I’m just saying.
- O.K., here is the deal. I don’t want to say anything damning, but when I left the room my wallet was on the table and when I came back it was gone. The only month in the room was September. Take from that what you will.
- October? Is that the fat one? From the Midwest? No … it is your sister? My bad.
- The next time November tries to hit me up for a loan, I’m going to ask him if he knows what “T.S.” stands for. When he says no, I’ll say, “It stands for Tough Shit.”
- December? Don’t even get me started on that bitch.
Douglas Campbell is the product of (a) a long, painful birth, (b) a miserable childhood, (c) a painfully awkward adolescence, (d) an excruciating high school and college record, (e) an underwhelming graduate school experience, (f) a lackluster career, or (g) all of the above. Also, he enjoys cycling.
Julia McCloy is a technical writer living in Memphis, Tennessee, whose work has appeared in McSweeneys.net and Faultline. She prefers laughing to just about anything.
Julia McCloy is a technical writer living in Memphis, Tennessee, whose work has appeared in McSweeneys.net and Faultline. She prefers laughing to just about anything.
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