A Public Apology

Well, it finally happened .. I went too far .. and now I have to apologize .. I should never have uttered the slur that all my Repuglican friends are so upset about .. and I am sorry .. please forgive me. When I uttered the slur: “Trump has the ethics of a used car salesman, the compassion of a Nazi death camp guard.” I was angry ..

<Knock, Knock!>

“yeah? ..”

“Mr. Blue? Mr. Beau Blue?”

“yeah ..”

“Mr. Blue, my name’s Edsel Frobush, and my associate here is Henry J. Rustingout .. we’re from the International Association of Used Car Salesmen, Rush Street branch.”

“yeah, so?”

“May we come in, Mr. Blue? Thank you. We’re here to see you about a certain parenthetical episode that many of the members of our Association are upset about?

In particular, the linking of the name Trump with the ethical behavior of used car salesmen?”

“yeah, and? ..”

“We’re offended greatly by this particularly ugly aspersion and we would like an apology. Even the shadiest member of our group found your remark appalling. None of our membership is SO loathesome as to need to be associated with that name.”

“Look, I didn’t mean it .. OK? I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. It was a weak moment, I didn’t know what I was saying. Will that do?”

“I’m afraid not Mr. Blue. We need a public apology. After all, this slur is a grievous assault on the character of men who are already burdened enough .. surely you understand t        he need to erase such a public stain with a public act of contrition.”

“Yeah, alright, I will .. I really am sorry .. AND I’ll say so publicly. Will that satisfy you?”

“Yes, that should do it .. sometime very soon, OK?

“Yeah, yeah as soon as I can .. today, OK? I realize that you guys couldn’t possibly be as bad as ..”

<Knock, Knock!>

“.. Will you excuse me for a second? ..

yeah? ..”

“Mr. Blue? Mr. Beau Blue? My name is Heinrich Schlutzgard, and my associate here is Adolph Offenmaker ..”

Sundown at the end of the driveway

“Dad, why are they fighting in Yugoslavia?”

“I don’t know, some men don’t want to be Yugoslavian.”

“Is there oil there?”

“I don’t know that either. Are all these cats hanging

            around you for a reason, boy?”

“They bring me things … mice, salamanders, BIG spiders…”


“Sometimes … but I gotta be fast!”

Tom and Jerry

“I lost my penis once.”


“Yeah, when I was …ah, twenty-two I think.”

“Wow, you musta been scared.”

“Nah, I found it again. I’d left it with my car keys.”

“No Kidding? In your car?”

“Yep! A Fire-engine-red GTO convertible …

God that thing was cherry! When I sold that car?

Now THAT was a time I was scared.”

“Oh yeah, why?”

“About the same time I sold it?

I misplaced my BALLS for a couple a weeks …”

Published by Mike Zone

Mike Zone is the former Editor in Chief of Dumpster Fire Press and managing editor of Concrete Mist Press. The author of Screaming in the End: Poems and Stories, Fuck You: A Fucking Poetry Chap, Shedding Dark Places (almost), One Hell of a Muse , as well as coauthor of The Grind and Razorville. A frequent contributor to Alien Buddha Press and Mad Swirl. His work has been featured in: A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Black Shamrock Magazine, Horror Sleaze Trash, Better Than Starbucks, Piker Press, Punk Noir Magazine, Synchronized Chaos, and Cult Culture magazine.

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