Symphonic Sneezes

I Googled myself yesterday. I do that every few months to check on all those arrest warrants and bad credit claims that may or may not be against me, but I can pay just $9.95 for the PeopleSearch.com Premium Plan to find out for sure.

Also, as an author, I always enjoy seeing what crazy German, Arabic, and Indian book websites are selling my books, which are all in English. You can pick up a copy of Bullies & Bagels for just under 3,800 rupees. Can you believe it?

There are nine pages of me on Google, and yesterday I scrolled through all of them for fun and a couple of new items caught my eye, besides the possible impending credit and legal actions.

I am now actually quoted on wisefamousquotes.com under the “quotes about spit” category.

Men are far more likely to clean things with spit than women are. ~ Marc Schmatjen

I am definitely the originator of that quote, and while I appreciate them including me in their stable of quoted folks, I do have to take issue with the name of the website and its implied description of the website’s contents. In my opinion, “wisefamousquotes.com” should probably contain only wise quotes by famous people, or famous quotes by wise people, or some combination thereof.

My quote about spit is not wise, and I am not famous. Simply having a quote category named “quotes about spit” calls the entire “wise and famous” premise into serious question, don’t you think?

Still, it was fun to see.

The one that really made my day, though, was a calendar event at The Virginia Discovery Museum. From their website:

The Virginia Discovery Museum is proud to partner with Charlottesville Symphony to offer virtual musical storytimes and instrument demonstrations. Meet a new musician each month as we learn about instruments from the brass, percussion, string, and woodwind families.

On December 4th, 2020, Katy Ambrose, who is the Principal Horn (Brass) for The Charlottesville Symphony, located at The University of Virginia, read (and played) the kids my book, The Very Sneezy Garbage Truck, and apparently introduced them to a DIY instrument called the Hose-O-Phone.

I spit out my coffee when I read that.

What happens when Sneezy the garbage truck picks up his weekly load at a new factory? Meet principal horn Katy Ambrose, from Charlottesville Symphony, and learn all about brass instruments as she brings “The Very Sneezy Garbage Truck” by Marc Schmatjen to life through sound during a virtual musical story time.

I clicked on their link to the DIY project and I could not be more sad that I only just found out about this and I didn’t have the chance to Zoom into the reading back in December. I would have loved to see and hear a professional musician, so skilled in her craft that she is the leader for her instrument in an actual symphony orchestra, make garbage truck sneezing sounds and air horn noises with a makeshift horn constructed from a funnel, a garden hose, and a water bottle cap for a mouthpiece.

I mean, I guess she could have used her actual symphony instrument, but in my mind, she’s reading my goofy book to a bunch of kids and making glorified farts noises with a hose-o-phone.

I emailed the director of programming at the Virginia Discovery Museum, first to tell him or her that they are a genius, and second to request a copy of the recording if it exists.

You can rest assured that when I return to in-person school visits and finally get to read to kids again, the kindergartners and first graders are going to see me walk into their classroom wearing a DIY Hose-O-Phone across my chest like a bandolier!

See you soon,

-Smidge

 

Copyright © 2021 Marc Schmatjen

 

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Once Upon a Time, 2019

I have been lucky enough over the last six years to get to help young elementary students write stories each week. In the past I’ve worked with kindergartners, but this year I got to write stories with first graders. At the end of each year, I compile them all into a real book that their parents and grandparents can buy.

Here are a couple samples from this year’s edition. Prepare yourself for a trip deep inside the mind of the American first grader… Enjoy!

Chocolate Surprise (alternate title: Extremely Questionable Dentist)

Once upon a time there was a boy named Sparkle who was eighteen inches tall and always busy looking for one of his friends. He was friends with a three-foot-tall girl named Elsa who had fire power. They were both friends with a tall girl, who was at least seven feet tall, named Lilly, who loved playing with all her friends more than anything in the world.

One morning Lilly and Elsa were helping Sparkle find his friend. They found him at the beach in Hawaii where they also found one hundred baby kittens in a treasure box. When Elsa opened the box, all the kittens jumped out and some of them even jumped onto the faces of the three friends. While the friends were trying to get the kittens off their faces, some of the little furry cats got away and ran up a large hill.

Once all the kittens had jumped out of the chest, the friends saw brown treasure in the bottom of the box that the kittens had been sitting on. The whole box was filled with chocolate pennies!

Just then, a giant cat came bolting out of a cave near the water and ran up the big hill after the kittens. All of a sudden, a spaceship crash landed in the volcano that was next to their beach. The three friends grabbed the chocolate pennies and ran for the volcano, climbed up, jumped into the spaceship after the space man had gotten out, quickly fixed it, and took off into space.

They flew the spaceship for a whole two seconds until they arrived at Planet Forest, where they landed. As soon as they landed, strange forest creatures attacked their ship, took it completely apart, grabbed the three friends, and threw them all the way back to Earth, where they landed in New Mexico. Luckily, Lilly had hung on to the chocolate treasure, none of which melted on reentry.

Meanwhile, back in Hawaii, the spaceman had climbed out of the volcano, saddled up the giant cat, and rode it all the way to New Mexico to go beat up the friends for stealing his spaceship. As soon as he arrived in Santa Fe, the fight began.

The massive cat ran over and scratched all three friends on their faces. Elsa took immediate action and used her fire power to set the giant cat's tail on fire. The cat screeched and ran a mile away, with his tail burning all the way.

But as he ran past, his flaming tail swished back and forth wildly, and it hit all three friends, picking them up, and throwing them all the way back to Hawaii, where they landed next to their house and their pet pony.

To celebrate, they ate all the chocolate pennies at once, then felt a little weird, so they went to the dentist. He told them that they all had cavities which could turn them evil if they didn’t take care of them, so they all decided to get them filled with candy, which was a special the dentist was offering that week.

The end.

Unexpected Love Song (alternate title: Ratt Sings Cheap Trick?)

Once upon a time there was a monster named Horn, who was microscopic and lived in the ocean. He was friends with a carrot named Backpack who lived in the mountains. They were both friends with snake named Sprinkles who was only two inches long and lived in the forest.

One morning the three friends were waking up from a sleepover at Sprinkles’ house in the forest. Suddenly, they saw a giant rat inside the house, coming right for Sprinkles the snake. The mean old rat bit Sprinkles right on the tail. Backpack the carrot sprang into action and grabbed his friend Sprinkles and pulled him into the snow outside the door.

Horn, the microscopic ocean monster, grabbed the big rat by the tail, swung him around in the air three million times, then slapped him across his ugly rat face and sent him flying five thousand hundred million feet away. [Just under ninety-five million miles]

Horn and Backpack took Sprinkles the snake to the animal hospital which was two hundred feet away from the house, and the veterinarian used his magic powers to heal the little snake's tail.

When they got back to Sprinkles’ house, they went inside and sat down to rest, but all of a sudden Sprinkles started to yell. The rat had returned somehow and had snuck out of a hole in the wall and jumped onto the little snake's back.

This time it was Backpack's turn to teach the big rat a lesson. The carrot reached under the sink and got a huge rat sticky trap and threw it at the big rat that was attacking his friend. The rat became hopelessly stuck to the trap, and the three friends picked it up and took it to the rat jail that was only ten miles away.

But the rat was so strong that eventually, he unstuck himself, and broke out of the special rat jail, and ran the whole ten miles back to Sprinkles’ house. Instead of attacking them again, he sat outside the house and sang a very special song about love.

As soon as the three friends came outside to hear the lovely song, the rat attacked them again. The song had been a trick!

Sprinkles, who had had just about enough of this rat, grabbed it by the tail, and began slamming it into the ground. The rat was undeterred, and he got away from the snake and chased the three friends away from the house. But the three friends were much faster than the rat, and they led him all over everywhere on a wild goose chase, and eventually the rat got lost and ended up at a Target store.

Since the rat had a little cash on him, he decided to buy gentlemen’s pants, shirts, hats, and a fake mustache and beard. He dressed up in his new clothing and went back to their house, pretending to be a person, and when they answered the door, he tossed a fishing hook into the house, hoping they would bite it.

Horn the microscopic ocean monster bit down on the hook, because he wasn't fooled, and knew the gentlemen at the door was really the rat in disguise. When the rat started to pull on the hook, Horn was planning to clobber him again, but the snake yelled, "Stop it! We know it's you. You're not being nice."

The rat said, "I’m sorry! I was only trying to get you closer so we could be friends, because I never had any friends."

They invited him in to be friends and then the four of them had a play date at the park with juice boxes and tomato soup.

The end.

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2019 Marc Schmatjen

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The English Sea - Repost

In honor of the release of the Second Edition of my very first children’s book, My Giraffe Makes Me Laugh, I thought I’d re-run a column that came out a few months after the First Edition was released.

The nice folks at the Roseville, California public libraries have inexplicably asked me to host the kick-off event for their 23rd annual Youth Poetry Contest. Apparently, they consider my children’s book, My Giraffe Makes Me Laugh, to be full of children’s poetry. I just thought it was full of rhymes, but who am I to argue? After all, they are the professionals here. They are even billing me as, “Local poet, Marc Schmatjen.” Who woulda’ thought, huh?

Thankfully, they were wise enough not to ask me to judge the event. I will simply be in charge of leading a large group of young children through some rhyming exercises and teaching them about the different kinds of poems. I figured that I could pull it off with a little luck and a lot of ad-libbing, so I accepted the job.

In honor of the event, I thought I would try my hand at some poetry. We’re going off the reservation a little this week, but I don’t want you to worry. I doubt that this will be a permanent thing!

“The English Sea” – A Poem of Sorts

Here in the English Sea, it is tough to grammatically wade.

When you hear English, you see, context must be weighed.

Sounding out a word ewe herd? There may be many ways, not just one.

Four instants, there are three ways two spell too, and to ways too spell won.

Consider this:

A bird with the flu, flew up our flue,

But our brand new gnu knew what to do.

You’ll want to cry foul, but alas, my poor dear,

It’s just a wayward ailing fowl and an African deer.

The sentence is sound, it’s grammatically right,

Although its content isn’t something I’d write.

The words all disagree, on the page or the pane,

But they are pronounced with true sameness. I’d call that a pain.

They have a real name: Homophones, don’t you know?

Do they make the English language neat and tidy? No, no, no!

To know your way through them, you need lots of know-how.

Are they easy and intuitive? No way, no how!

Some of them can serve to make sentences sweet.

To hold up your whole body is a feat of your feet.

And the presence of presents makes your birthday quite neat.

Some of them serve to make sentences insane.

If he rode down the road, you’d see him holding a rein,

But if he rowed down the road, then you’ve had too much rain.

But most of them serve to make you feel like you’re losing.

They’re right there, but they’ve left their chairs there. Is that amusing?

It is certainly not. That’s just downright confusing.

Dew knot give up yet. Try this little tail:

The heir to the throne was thrown through the air.

He gave his horse too much rein and regretted his err.

He ended up in the mud on his derriere.

But the err the heir dared was minor, he swore.

A riding faux pas in the rain, and a seat that was sore.

He knew an err in the reign could cost so much more.

It wasn’t so bad to be thrown from one’s steed,

The heir and his father, the king, both agreed.

To be thrown from the throne would be much worse, indeed.

Sea, now that wasn’t sew bad.

In order for your assistants to kindly deliver your correspondence on your stationery,

It would be of great assistance if your correspondents would kindly remain stationary.

On second thought, theirs no hope two bee had.

It doesn’t make sense, its hard not to err,

When many of the scents travel over the air.

My advice is two get reel good at math before you are grown,

Because this language will only make ewe moan and groan.

English has never made sense, and now you see it two,

Unlike dollars and cents, one and won don’t make to.

I really hope I’m not banned permanently from the public library system after this!

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2019 Marc Schmatjen

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Also visit Marc’s Amazon.com Author Page  for all his books. Enjoy!

Free Books at Walmart

We interrupt this regularly-scheduled column for a severe hand cramp. I am typing this with my left hand and my nose.

It all started a few months ago when I was contacted by the vice president. No, not that one. The vice president of the PTA at one of our local elementary schools. She was contacting me to set up an author visit, which is a normal occurrence, but this one had a twist. She was in the process of trying to get a grant to buy every single kid at the school one of my books. I was immediately in favor of the idea.

She continued to work hard and I went about my daily routine, which is centered largely around snacking, keeping my cheese dust-covered fingers crossed that she could pull it off. Lo and behold, almost a month ago, she called to tell me the good news that she had secured the money, and every student would get a book!

I hadn’t asked originally, but I just assumed she was working with the school district, or some other education-based entity to get the money, so I was surprised when she told me the funds were coming from Walmart. I immediately began to wonder who I had gotten myself involved with, but she assured me that she didn’t rob the Walmart, like I naturally concluded.

It turns out that every Walmart and Sam’s Club store in America has ten thousand dollars per year that the store manager is in charge of giving away to local non-profit and charity endeavors. How cool is that!? My books may not be in Walmart, but they are sponsored by Walmart!

I immediately inquired to our neighborhood Walmart about getting some funds donated to the newly-established Schmatjen Family Mortgage Relief and Vacation Foundation, but they apparently have strict guidelines about charitable status blah blah, or something. I stopped listening after they threw me out.

So why am I experiencing severe, physically debilitating cramping in my right hand, you ask? Well, I was given almost an entire month to complete the task of signing all the books, so naturally I left it until the last minute.

The school visit is tomorrow and I’m not even half way through yet.

I have to stop typing now. My left hand is starting to cramp up and my nose is getting sore.

If you know any experts in forgery who would work for beer and snacks, I’d appreciate a quick introduction. In the meantime, I’m going to go duct tape the pen to my right hand and try to keep going.

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2019 Marc Schmatjen

Check out The Smidge Page on Facebook. We like you, now like us back!

Also visit Marc’s Amazon.com Author Page  for all his books. Enjoy!

High School Knowledge Week

I went back to high school today. Not my own high school, but a very similar one. It felt the same. The smell of gym socks and mysterious cafeteria “food” has not changed much in thirty years.

It’s career week at Rocklin High, and they invited me to speak about being an author. I wanted to speak about being a bullfighter, but they said it was better to stick to things I’d had direct experience with, so whatever. Author it is.

I really had a fun time sharing my knowledge and insights with the students about authoring, but I also felt like I left a lot on the table, advice-wise. I mean, I gave them plenty of advice about being an author, such as, “If you want to be able to afford food and clothing, be a dentist instead,” and “Never name your evil villainess after your mother-in-law if you can help it.”

But I really wished I could have gone a step further and given them general high school life advice. The format and time constraints of the day wouldn’t allow for it, but there was definitely more wisdom I wanted to impart, such as:

- Talk to the girl. She’s nervous and self-conscious just like you are, even if all you see is her being amazing and you having zits. If she wants nothing to do with you, smile and say, “OK, no sweat. I hope you have a great day.” Or cover her front yard in toilet paper at midnight. Either way you want to play it is cool.

- Pay attention, you idiot. The things they are teaching you do not suck and are not lame. This is all stuff you will need in life. Except algebra. Algebra does suck and is lame. No one uses algebra in their job.

- Here’s a good joke for your math teacher:

What does the little mermaid wear to math class?

An algebra.

You’re welcome.

- While you are here, learn to form grammatically correct sentences on paper and with your face. If you can’t do that, you will always work at the car wash.

- Drive while driving. And drive as little as possible while you’re in high school. You think you’re amazing at it, but you’re not. You suck at it. So much.

- Stand up straight, look people in the eye, have a firm handshake, and speak clearly. In other words, stop being you and start acting like a human. It’s time.

- Quit wearing beanie hats unless it is below 45 degrees. Never wear them indoors, unless you work in a walk-in freezer.

- Be extra nice to your joints – your knees in particular. Trust me.

- Go to any other country before you start college. Just go. You don’t need any money.

- Get your hair out of your eyes. For you boys, it makes you look like a lazy slob. For you girls, it makes you look like Cousin It. Not good, either way.

- Go to any other country after you finish college. Just go. You still don’t need any money.

- Sit up straight.

- Your parents know a lot of useful information, and they want you to have it because they love you. You don’t know anything useful at all. Listen to them and stop being a turd.

- And no, having “likes” on your selfies is not useful. Stop taking selfies and learn how to cook a steak properly.

- Pronounce words correctly.

- You will get out of college exactly what you put into it. So be sure to study. Also, be sure to learn how to do an upside-down keg stand properly. Both are vitally important to college.

- Seriously, stop wearing beanie hats.

- Get a job if you don’t have one yet. You are not too busy. Throw your cell phone away and you just freed up 80% of your day.

- Once you learn something, start your own business with zero dollars in your bank account. If you fail, big deal. You’ll still have zero dollars. If you succeed, you’ll have more than zero. It’s just simple math.

- Deodorant. Always.

- Don’t say, “To be honest with you...”

It gives the impression you aren’t being honest all the other times.

- And above all else, remember -  Us adults are just as lost as you, but we have mortgages. Stay in high school. You have no idea how good you have it.

I’m going back tomorrow to talk to more students. Maybe I’ll find time to fit some of this good stuff in.

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2018 Marc Schmatjen

Check out The Smidge Page on Facebook. We like you, now like us back!

Also visit Marc’s Amazon.com Author Page  for all his books. Enjoy!

What's in a Name?

Usually, at the beginning of each year I do an “About the Author” column to help our new readers get to know me a little better by learning some incredibly interesting facts, like my favorite breakfast cereal, and which shoe I put on first.

Recently, however, I have begun to notice how many other Marcs there are on Amazon.com, so in lieu of a “getting to know you” column this year, I thought I’d go with a “getting to know who I’m not” theme.

When you go to Amazon looking for one of my books (two-thirds of my sons think they’re really great), and you start typing my name in the search bar, things can get confusing.

For instance, if you just type in “Marc,” there can be a lot of misleading suggestions dropping down for you.

Marc Jacobs is not me. Apparently, he’s some big shot fashion guy from New York. He seems to only design things for women. In contrast, I know nothing about women and even less about women’s fashions.

Marc Anthony is a singer who is also not me. I can’t sing. I think he also dances, so that’s strike two. He might also have a line of expensive women’s hair care products. I don’t know anything about women’s hair care or even men’s hair care. I don’t even have any hair to care for. Strike three.

If you type in my first name, but have no idea how to spell my last name (and who could blame you?), but you suspect it might start with a consonant, you’d be right! Being the shrewd guesser you are, you would probably choose the right one and type “Marc S.” This still presents problems.

One of the first drop-down suggestions Amazon will give you is Bruno Marc shoes. Marc is my first name, not my last, and I don’t make shoes. I own shoes, but none by Bruno Marc. His shoes seem fairly affordable, though, so maybe I’ll grab a pair.

Marc Secchia might be your next choice. You’re getting closer, because he’s an author too, but he writes prolifically about dragons. I can’t even spell prolifically, and I don’t write about dragons.

You might be tempted to click on Marc Singer, but I’ve already told you, I don’t sing. And I was also not the super-buff star of the 1982 smash hit The Beastmaster, even though people get me confused with that guy all the time.

I am also not Marc Shapiro, even though he’s an author as well. He seems to write unauthorized biographies on semi-famous people. If I were going to write a biography on someone, chances are I would get their permission first. I hate getting sued.

If you happen upon Marc Stevens in your drop-down choices, beware. He writes what appears to be very low-budget erotica. I am a children’s book author. Those two things don’t go together.

Marc Simont and Marc Silvestri are also not me. They are illustrators of books. I am not. I wish I was, but my stick figures don’t even look like people. It’s sad, really.

If you have a near-photographic memory and somehow remembered that my last name starts with “Sch,” you can still get into trouble. Typing in “Marc Sch” brings up more issues.

Marc Schelske is a Christian author and also seems to be a singer. I’m a Christian, and also an author, but “Christian author” usually gets you a specific type of book. And we’ve been over the whole singer thing. The world does not need to hear me try to sing. The unruly crowd at the karaoke place made that abundantly clear.

Marc Schoen, a man who is also not me, is a Ph.D. in something or other who has also written books, two of which are entitled When Relaxation is Hazardous to your Health, and Your Survival Instinct is Killing You. He sounds fun, huh? I, on the other hand, want you to live a long, healthy life. And I think you should relax and take a break whenever you want, unless you’re my pilot.

Marc Schorin is not a real person, but I am. His name comes up because a lot of people who want to learn how to stop relaxing keep misspelling Schoen.

Marc Schiller is a real person, who wrote a real book about his really weird life story. He’s the real-life victim of the insane kidnapping and murder plot by three steroid-junkie Miami personal trainers known as the Sun Gym Gang in 1994. Mark Wahlberg and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson play two of the idiot bodybuilding criminals in the recent movie, Pain & Gain. I have never, to my knowledge, been kidnapped by muscular lunatics.  

Once you’ve got as far as “Marc Sch,” if you’re good enough to guess the next letter correctly as “m,” you should be home free. I think I’m the only “Marc Schm” on the Amazon suggestions list.

So there you go, new readers. Now you know a little about who I am and a lot about who I’m not, as well as how to avoid the pitfalls and successfully navigate to “Marc Schmatjen” on Amazon. Thanks for joining us! Browse around a while and see if there’s anything that catches your eye. And for any of you veteran readers who already have some or all of my books, I would sincerely appreciate an honest Amazon review from you or your kids. Thanks in advance!

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2018 Marc Schmatjen

Check out The Smidge Page on Facebook. We like you, now like us back!

Also visit Marc’s Amazon.com Author Page  for all his books. Enjoy!

I'm Thankful for Witches and Cereal

The list of things I’m thankful for is long, and includes my family, nachos, our church, orthopedic insoles, my health, generic Advil, good friends, and pretty much any pork product, just to name a few.

I am also very thankful for my job as an author, because it allows me to visit so many elementary-age students and attempt to inspire them to do big things. I even get to create stories with some of them. I’ve been writing progressive fairy tales with the kindergarten classes at our elementary school for years now. Each child adds the next sentence to the story, and they are hilarious.

On this Thanksgiving eve, I am especially thankful for an organization called RPAL – the Roseville Police Activities League – and for its director, Vivi Nevarez, and all the volunteers that help run this great after school and summer activities program. The mix of kids is everywhere from your run-of-the-mill elementary schooler looking for a fun afternoon program all the way to some very at-risk youth who could be one misstep away from a much different life. Most of the kids come from low-income, single-parent homes or foster care.

RPAL and programs like it all across the country are known to be the largest organized crime prevention programs we have as a nation, and the people who dedicate their lives to facilitating these programs cannot be thanked enough.

I was fortunate enough to be asked to come do an author workshop with the RPAL kids yesterday, and we wrote a progressive fairy tale with a group of twelve young people ranging from second grade to high school.

It was a room full of wonderful imaginations. An obvious love of cereal, combined with some Harry Potter and Hansel and Gretel influences, as well as a ton of good old-fashioned making stuff up brings us this:

Enjoy!

The Cinnamon Toast Crunch Incident (Alternate title: Maybe We Just Go to the Store Next Time)

By Oliver, Marvin, Messiah, Aiden, Jonathan, Kimberly, Carolyn, Jazmin, Jasmine, Cassie, Gianna and Cianna

Once upon a time there was a funny talking robot tennis ball named Jack, who bounced around from place to place. He was friends with a fast orange turtle named Raisin who was generally mean to everyone he met.

One day they desperately wanted to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, but they had no milk. They naturally decided to go look for a magical cow to milk in the deep dark forest. After three suns and two moons of fruitless searching for a milk cow, they encountered a dark, evil witch.

Before they could resist, the witch cast a spell on them with her twisted magical wand that was made with the feather of a Phoenix, and they found themselves floating into her dark, creepy house.

Jack and Raisin were floating past the witch when Jack used his extendable robot arm, that could extend over five hundred million thousand feet. He extended his arm like lightning and grabbed the magic wand out of the evil witch’s hand.

Unfortunately, she had a second wand, and she pulled it out of her cloak and used it to continue levitating them into her huge oven. The door slammed behind them and the fire came to life under them.

Jack, thinking quickly, used the first wand that he was still holding in his extendable hand to conjure up a full-size cow inside the oven with them. The cow broke the oven open with its enormous body, and immediately kicked the evil witch right in head and sent her flying one thousand billion trillion feet into the air.

With the witch gone for good, the black and white cow just stood there mooing at the two friends. Jack used the magic wand to levitate their Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal to the witch’s kitchen table, then politely asked the cow if they could milk her.

The cow was nice enough to say yes, and the two friends finally enjoyed their delicious breakfast. After they were done eating, Jack and the cow jumped onto Raisin’s back, and the super-fast turtle ran them all the way home. When they got there, they filled their whole house with Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and milked the magical cow for one trillion years until the whole house was a gigantic bowl of cereal.

The end.

Thank you Vivi, and all the other RPAL rock stars, for the opportunity to come hang out with your kids for a few hours and bring this story to life. I am very thankful for your tireless dedication. Keep up the good work!

Have a great Thanksgiving!

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2016 Marc Schmatjen

Check out The Smidge Page on Facebook. We like you, now like us back!

Also visit Marc’s Amazon.com Author Page  for all his books. Enjoy!

Auditory Torture

There has been a lot of talk in the news recently about torture. I, of course, mean the actual news, and not what the Kardashians are up to. That type of “news” is torture of another kind.

What is and isn’t actual torture has been discussed laboriously on the political round table talk shows. Experts, pundits, and news talking heads have beaten this subject to death - or at least into submission. They all seem to fail to see the irony; listening to them talk about torture that much is actually torture. It can almost make you care what the Kardashians might be up to.

The media seems very concerned about the physical side of “enhanced interrogations.” Perhaps someone was made to stand and stay awake for a really long time. Maybe someone didn’t get too much to eat. Someone was naked in front of other people? It all sounds a lot like college to me, but what do I know? No one has invited me to sit down at the round table and discuss any of this yet, but if they do, I will tell them everything they want to know about torture and national security.

I have very real, very recent first-hand experience with torture. Not physical torture, mind you, although I am over forty, so activities like going up stairs and getting out of bed are getting mighty close to feeling like “enhanced techniques.” No, I have experience with mental torture – specifically, auditory torture.

I have been to hundreds of classrooms to read my books, but yesterday I did my first all-school author assembly in the multi-purpose room. I have not spent any significant amount of time in a multi-purpose room since I graduated from the sixth grade, but yesterday I found myself needing to hang around inside one for about an hour or so before I started the assembly.

I didn’t last long.

The kids were all in class, so my time in the multi-purpose room started out with peace and quiet, but eventually shuffling of feet and voices could be heard behind a closed curtain up on the stage. Then, all of a sudden, the formerly tranquil cafeteria/basketball court was filled with the sounds of wounded and dying animals. Zebras brayed and seals barked. Hyenas huffed and cackled. Tiny elephants gave their last, dying, gurgling trumpet.

Or was that an actual trumpet? Oh my Lord, it was! It’s band practice!

The unseen, murderous musicians warmed up behind the big curtain for what seemed like five hours, but my watch, my cell phone, and the wall clock all conspired to lie and tell me it only lasted two minutes. Then I heard a teacher’s voice.

Oh my God, there is an adult stuck back there with them!? She’s so close to the noise! She will obviously die soon.

She mentioned something about Jingle Bells, and then the awful sounds began again. At times, it almost sounded like the students were all trying to play the same song, but no CSI team of forensic scientists in the world would have been able to piece together Jingle Bells out of the musical wreckage that ensued. It sounded as if someone had lined up a whole truckload of tubas, clarinets, trombones, and trumpets and then ran them all over with the truck.

I could not hear myself think. I could not feel myself breathe. I did not want to live any longer in that room. I blacked out momentarily and when I came to I was outside in the fresh air and sunlight. Apparently my brain’s fight-or-flight response had kicked in and my legs had carried my unconscious body to safety. I stayed away until it was almost time to start the assembly, and when I went back in, the killing of music had ceased, but I could still hear the same teacher talking to the students. Holy cow, she has been up there, stuck behind the curtain, enduring this for almost an hour! She must be bulletproof.

That thought reminded me of another time in my life when I was subjected to cruel and unusual punishment. I was walking in the park one day last summer, and the ice cream truck was paralleling me on the neighborhood streets near the greenbelt. I was mercilessly pelted with The Entertainer for a solid ten minutes. I was off in the weeds looking for two sharp sticks that I could jam into my ears when, thankfully, he moved on and the horrendous noise pecking at my brain finally stopped. How the man who drives that infernal music box on wheels can function well enough to even fit the key into the ignition is beyond my comprehension.

Now, if you want information from someone, I guess you can make them stand for a long time, or make them skip some meals, or strip them naked and attempt to humiliate them. It might work, and it will definitely get you on the news. But if you really want good intel – I mean if you want them to beg to hand over every last scrap of useful information they have – there is only one way to go. Just sit them down in a nice comfortable room and pipe in elementary school band practice or the ice cream man’s tinny music box version of The Entertainer on infinite loop.

For fast, effective results, that kind of auditory torture can’t be beat. On the flip side, we should immediately entrust all of our nation’s top secrets to the elementary school band teacher and the ice cream man. They will never crack.

Until then, I guess we’ll have to flip the channel over to the Kardashians or continue to endure the irony of the media beating torture to death. No matter what, we need to avoid the multi-purpose room during band practice.

You know, come to think of it, the real irony here is that “Auditory Torture” would be a good name for a rock band.

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2014 Marc Schmatjen

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