Brad Rose

 
Manifesting 

After I anesthetized my robot manifestation coach, I took the dream elevator up to the top floor of the basement. Have you spent weeks, or even years, of your life wondering why theme parks are so remorseless? I even bought two front row seats on the Devil’s Details roller coaster, just to see if Satan has an innie or an outie belly button. While not a complete catastrophe, that nearly ruined my fiscal quarter. Even when dressed in my regulation summer pastels and cartoon dress shoes, I can’t help but wonder if I’m quite the Don Juan I like to think I am?  So, after I got home, I immediately enrolled in a top-flight—although low-cost—flirting class at Madame Tussaud’s drive-thru Museum of the World’s Best Osculators. You’ve got to be sure to flirt just the right way. Of course, a better life is possible, but only if you’re unconscious. Flight attendants: prepare for arrival. 

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Relief Jester

While styling around town in my multi-coloured clown costume, I fell into a polarizing force field. I don’t think it was just a publicity stunt, because the sticker shock nearly electrocuted me. Of course, my zesty neo-lumberjack outfit would have looked better on a real model, but I was elected by secret ballot. I’m a man of the people, so, out of the gooeyness of my heart and the promise of a 79% pay raise, I agreed to play the part—at least until a relief jester could be located.  Big mistake. 

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Who Could Ask for More?

Like medieval combat in the antique future, I’m doing all the right things, wrongly. Fortunately, thanks to the canned laughter and fast-frozen giggles, I’m living the Dreamsicle, but just to be on the safe side, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the giraffes for being so tall and the sharks for keeping their distance. I may be approaching the 11th hour, but I’m looking forward to getting a leg up on the competition. After four marriages, and two divorces, I’m confident that I’m starting to get the hang of it. In fact, soon I’ll be able to decapitate the hidden hierarchy without so much as popping a single bubble on the bubble wrap. Of course, one day, everyone will inevitably lose everything, but like the executioner’s reply to his job-satisfaction survey, who could ask for more.

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Shoulder Season

It’s shoulder season, so I need to sharpen the blades on my backyard Guillotine. The best defense is an extremely succinct offense. It’s an uphill battle, but luckily, it’s the greatest thing in the world for your brain. Also, it looks impressive on your resume. Of course, there’s only so much a sentient being can be expected to withstand. Here’s a list of some of the recent winners. No, I don’t speak French, but I have a beautiful Parisian accent. In fact, I’ve been training my hair to look the part—you know, existentially New Wave. When you do it yourself, you never know for sure what you’re going to get, but I like to leave the door open. Besides, no one knows where the bodies are buried.

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My Cabinet of Mysterious Oddities

Do they make streets where the houses are, or build houses where the streets are? Personally, I’m opposed to any opposition that opposes me, but my effortless savoir faire usually saves the day. Tomorrow, I’m going to ask the mustachioed concierge for the key to my little pied-à-terre and a couple of hundred thousand francs in unmarked bills. He’s a real gentleman. Of course, I wouldn’t be in this desperate situation if it weren’t for the untimely discovery of the burning skeletons and the smoking gun. Thank goodness I was wearing my survival socks. At least the murder trial has been postponed. 

Come over here. I want to show you something.

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Safety First

One of my favourite authors is Dr. Wow. I guess that’s no big surprise. I especially love how he writes just like everybody else. Suitable for any occasion. Needless to say, it’s always the dead of night in outer space. Fortunately, I’m on a secret mission. Although I’m not a liberty to say, I can tell you that my advanced prankster class instructor says I’m having the wrong kind of fun. If I was more coordinated, I’d enroll in a synchronized swimming class. There’s no limit to what you can do when you’re wearing hydraulic water wings and matching alligator flippers. Of course, there’s a boatload of things that can kill you. In fact, one of these days I’m going to get exactly what I deserve. Until then, you don’t mind holding this thing, do you? No, I guarantee it’s not loaded. 

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Brad Rose was born and raised in Los Angeles, and lives in Boston. He is the author of eight collections of poetry and flash fiction: Or Words to that Effect, I Wouldn’t Say That, Exactly, WordInEdgeWise, Lucky Animals, No. Wait. I Can Explain, Pink X-Ray, de/tonations, and Momentary Turbulence. Brad’s poetry and fiction have appeared in: 45th Parallel, Baltimore Review, New York Quarterly, Lunch Ticket, Puerto del Sol, Clockhouse, Folio, Best Microfiction (2019), Action Spectacle, The Los Angeles Times, Hunger Mountain, Right Hand Pointing, and other journals and anthologies. His website is www.bradrosepoetry.com Selected audio readings: https://soundcloud.com/bradrose1