Sammy has been trying to figure out different ways to celebrate The Year of Charles Brockden Brown, Sammy’s ancestor who used to write stories. Sammy said he was America’s first real novelist, but I told him I’m America’s first real dream-gambling-ornithology guru, but no one’s buying any of my books. Boyce said he was America’s first locksmith Aquarius who currently has all the albums of Freddy Fender under an antique four-post bed (Boyce believes that all of Freddy Fender’s albums look great because, well, Freddy looks great).Nevertheless Sammy was looking for ideas about spreading the news of The Year of CBdB. Last weekend Boyce gave him the idea of writing quotes by CBdB on the back of a receipt roll at Arby’s. That way all the customers, when they were triple checking that no one put their fourth roast beef sandwich in the bag, would be enlightened. It took a bit of an effort, but Sammy tried it. We went over to his apartment and wrote at different points on an un-curled receipt paper roll. Sammy drew lines every five inches or so and said after each transaction he would pull the paper out to the next line to make sure no one got half a quote. So for an hour or so Boyce and I wrote as neatly as we could different quotes from Sammy’s books by CBdB. It ended up being something of a disaster, since Charles Brockden Brown writes disturbing novels. Most of the quotes we took from his books only served to frighten those customers who actually noticed the writing on the back. Some examples:
“Of all kinds of death, that which now menaced me was the most abhorred. To die by disease, or by the hand of a fellow-creature, was propitious and lenient in comparison with being rent to pieces by the fangs of this savage.”It’s not easy to keep a customer happy when they read on the back of their receipt, “The sacrifice is incomplete—Your children must be offered.” Sammy calmed that customer down, but I’m not sure how worried he was about their irritation since his explanation was, “They must be pranking us down at the receipt factory.” Sammy always says the best thing about fast food is that bad customers are replaced even easier than bad workers.
“He was teacher of the negro free-school when he died.” [As Sammy had to point out to one urban customer, the location of the dash is very, very important.]
“From these I was delivered only to be thrown into the midst of savages, to wage an endless and hopeless war with adepts in killing, with appetites that longed to feast upon my bowels and to quaff my heart’s blood.”
“Catharine! I pity the weakness of thy nature: I pity thee, but must not spare. Thy life is claimed from my hands: thou must die!”
I suggested to Boyce that maybe Sammy needs to get on the radio. There are a few local stations that might be interested in a short lecture on a 18th century novelist between the latest offerings in country or rap. Boyce and I are going to do our best to get Sammy on the radio so he can talk about the Year of Charles Brockden Brown.
The great thing about Sammy is that you can never go wrong. If anything is good, he’s happy. If anything is a disaster, he’s even happier. He knows there is an inverse relationship between the comfort of a situation and the success of the story when it’s told later. Sometimes people say, “live for today,” or “live like you were dying.” Both of those are dumb. They result in not paying bills and ingesting massive amounts of circus peanuts, which you previously avoided because they are obviously neon cancer.
Instead, live like Sammy: like you’ll get to tell Cyrus and Boyce about it all later.
