New Writing

If I haven't already "happened to mention" it to you, I got accepted into Columbia University's MFA fiction writing program last month. I applied to a bunch of places, in a bunch of different emphases, and Columbia said yes and all the others said no. So, my choice was easy (don't tell Columbia). I'm excited to start school again (never thought I'd say that) but also a bit overwhelmed. Fact is, the stories I submitted for my writing sample were pretty much the only short stories I've written (again, don't tell Columbia). So, I've got a lot of catching up to do in the form. Now that the Jazz season is over and I'm no longer blogging for Jazzbots.com, I have more energy to devote to getting a bunch of stories written. I'll post them here, and my goal is to post a new story every Friday until school starts in September. That's 20 stories. A nice round number. Don't expect super high quality here, we're going for quantity. That said, here is #1 of the 20. Short, yes, but it's a monday. Expect a new one on Friday the 1st!

#1
Ice Man:

I remember the JV shot put circle was at the base of a grass slope and when the meets were done we would layback on that slope and relax, waiting for the JV discus to start. I remember one time we had all finished throwing and we were laying back on that slope in our short maroon shorts and loose jerseys and the rival coach approached our coach and starting talking to him in low tones, asking him a favor. You could tell he really wanted this favor, so our coach said OK. Our coach was a real nice guy. So the other coach goes over to their team area and huddles up with his team and talks to them and then they all start cheering and then out of that huddle comes this down syndrome kid in a singlet and he’s cut like an old school strongman but in miniature. He couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. And he comes charging out of that huddle like he’d been let off a leash and he comes straight at us, pumping his fists and bobbing on his toes in a circular dance, like a boxer would. He comes right at us and beats his chest and mad dogs us where we were sitting in the grass and then he screams “I’m Ice! I’m the Ice MAN!” and then he hits the ground and does a form-perfect pushup, but in miniature, and then he walks to the shot put circle. Before he throws he turns and mad dogs us again and then he yelps loud and angry and throws the shot-put about half as far as the crappiest guy on our team. But he thinks it’s great, and he does pushups between each of his three tosses, and he mad dogs us, even our nice coach, and tells everyone just who he is before every throw. And while all this is going on I don’t know what to think or if I should laugh so I look over at the rival coach and he is beaming and giving a grateful thumbs up to our coach and our coach looks back at him with this look on his face that I had never seen from him before, The look was cruel and filled with rage and this is what the look said: “You bastard. Just because everyone is in on it doesn’t mean its not a lie. What happens when the Ice Man gets it that the meet was over before he even started warming up. What happens when Ice realizes that none of this is real."