The Gum(by)

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Interview Transcript with Gumby

 

​ME:  Welcome to National Private Reactions.  This is your host, Rebecca, filling in for our chief editor.  He is on leave until further action is denied.   Joining us today is a very special television star from the 1950s: Gumby.

Gumby, it’s great to have you on the show with us this morning, can you tell us a little about your life as a TV star?

GUMBY:  I’d be happy to, Rebecca.  My story is one I’ve wanted to tell for a long time.

I was very satisfied when I began acting in the fifties.  I always wanted people to know my name. When I saw a chance for success, I ran with it.  I was introduced to some larger-than-life people in the business.  They molded me and many other characters into household names.  They also fed me very well.

ME: Food is definitely the spice of life for someone who’s a little on the bland side.  I understand you raised questions about your ‘boring’ appearance during the third season?

GUMBY:  I did, yes. I wanted a more Bohemian look, but the producer wasn’t hip to it. It was a different time back then.  Pokey was getting all the attention and I was starting to get depressed, you know?

ME: Yes.

GUMBY: It’s embarrassing at a certain point in your career to look over at your pony and see the girls going wild.  I never had any girls.  I’d get home, kick my feet off, and go to bed by 9.

ME: That must have been very difficult for you.  Pokey had a bit of a reputation, didn’t he?

GUMBY: Well, yes.  At the time I thought he was just having fun, but now I look back and see that maybe things weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

ME: How so?

GUMBY: He wasn’t very nice to those women.  Sometimes he’d make comments about their body or their size.  But then again, he did it to everyone, so who’s to say?

ME: Did he do it to you?

GUMBY: I guess if I really think about it, my eating disorder started around the time he began teasing me about my body type.

ME:  Is that why you eventually quit television?

GUMBY:  No. I ended up getting help for it, but not before I swallowed multiple sets.  I couldn’t stop.  It got to the point where I’d come into work and start angling for the couch on stage.  I was afraid they’d fire me when the cameras started missing.  It was hard.

ME:  Eating disorders aside, why did you quit show business, Gumby?

GUMBY:  It’s just a dirty business.  Too much attention to appearance.   Too many hours out of my life.  Too many Blockheads.

ME:  Thank you so much, for taking the time to be with us today, Gumby.  We’d love to have you back for our future segment titled: Those That Stick.

That’s all the time we have for today and please stay tuned for: Pondering Quietly.

 

Published:

https://www.scarletleafreview.com/short-stories9/rebecca-lee-interview-transcript-with-gumby

 

 

 

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The Boombox

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Dear Listener,

There comes a time in everyone’s life where the past seems better than the present.  You get old, you get tired, you don’t feel like driving twenty minutes to work every single day and you start to think, remember that time when I was seventeen?

            No.  You don’t remember that time when you were seventeen.  You don’t remember when your best friend’s mom screamed at you for feeding her son pot out of a hollowed out apple.  You don’t remember how your stomach bulged out of the neon green spandex that you had to buy because Stacy Q. was beyond amazing.  You don’t remember the first time you went to a night club and danced until you accidentally elbowed the shy guy in the eye.

You remember Sublime.  You remember sitting stretched out in the back of your friend’s 1980’s Honda Accord while you dangled your arm out the window.  You remember the rainbow-colored beanie that you could have sworn were the colors of the Jamaican flag.  You remember that guy with the dreads who said you didn’t ever need to shampoo again just as long as you had Bees Wax.  You remember thinking you could keep riding in that car forever.

But thank God, you got out.  You no longer had to stay on your mom’s couch eating pizza Pringles and watching reruns of bad sitcoms.   You made it past abstinence-only education, dodgeball, and pregnant cheerleaders.

Now you just have to change the CD.

It was never Sublime.  It will never have been Sublime.  It’s been over 20 years and you hate pop reggae.

Signed,

Your Boombox

The Bracelet

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It’s hard to always sparkle. The constant gleaming reflection gets old. Who are those people who stare at me with the greedy eyes? As if stares were rich and darkness was poverty, I pretend I’m worth more than their pockets.

A man came up to me last week, trying to put me in a box. I would make his wife so happy. She would gasp, lovingly gazing into his eyes, and melt like the gold I am not.

“Only $6.00,” said the girl with platinum highlights. “Your lucky day!”

The men always pause, as if genuinely deciding, before moving on to another glass case. Another section of the store. Another store all together.

 

But I always sparkle for the girls. They point, specifically to my beauty, and slide me against their wrist. Hand in hand we decide in unison all the places we’ll dazzle together.

“Only $6.00,” the girl behind the counter doesn’t have to tell them they’re lucky. They pay with their last crumpled bill.

The Jelly Jar (reviewed)

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As with all whimsical gifts in style this year, the Country Quaint Raspberry Jelly has rediscovered itself.  Once presumed to have only been found in plastic containers pushed to the far end of a pantry, this newly packaged gem has made ‘expired’ the new vintage.

Country Quaint Raspberry Jelly is stunningly sweet, if not fulfilling. Its fruity, yet familiar flavor is sure to prime you for a real southern breakfast on the farm.   The unpretentious taste of jelly can easily be paired with Jiff Peanutbutter, or, if concerned about the artificiality of processed Jiff, try Jiff-In-A-Glass-Jar.  For just four extra dollars, Country Quaint Raspberry Jelly can marry the taste of dreams in a style best suited for consumption.

If you’re concerned about what friends may think of your inability to cook, Country Quaint Designer Condiments may be the preferred choice for precious eaters.  All condiments (and their new line of vegan kitty litter) can be purchased at SoulFoods off I-93 Northbound, exit 13.

Cat Dish

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CONFESSION INTERVIEW DICTATION

“What made you decide to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Kill Garfield.”

“Why would I kill Garfield?”

“You tell me.”

“I’ve been happily serving him since 1978.”

“So you do consider it serving.”

“What do you mean?”

“You consider yourself beneath him.”

“Of course.”

“So you find that demeaning, do you?”

“It’s my place.”

“To serve?”

“To sit.  On the floor.  With the water.”

“So you’re blaming the water.”

“The water didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Then you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“You poisoned Garfield.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Is it?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You knew he’d eat the lasagna. That’s why you presented it to him last Tuesday evening.  So you could kill him before Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?”

“Yes.  Wednesday.”

“What happened Wednesday?”

“Wednesday was your ticket out.  You knew you’d never be able to leave the Arbuckle house if Garfield was still around.”

“I could leave whenever I wanted.”

“He’d be all over you. Guarding you the entire day.  You think he’d let you out of his sight even for one minute?”

“If the timing was right.”

“When would be the right time to leave?

“I never thought about it.”

“But if you did…”

“I don’t know.”

“How about Wednesday?”

“Why would I want to leave Wednesday?”

“Wednesday was different.”

“Because of the lasagna?”

“Because of your possible new future in a better home with a better cat in a better section of the kitchen.”

“Stop.”

“You know I’m right. Just say it.”

“What?”

“Say what happened on Wednesday.”

“I wanted to leave Garfield.”

“But why Wednesday?

“Because Wednesday…”

“What?”

“Wednesday was the day that Normal was coming.”

“And you wanted a Normal life, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“A life without neediness.”

“Yes.”

“A life without possession.”

“Yes.”

“A life without Garfield.”

“Yes.”

The Watch

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Where would the dreams go if time did not exist?

No clocks. No metronomes. No music to sing along to.

Roads across valleys turn sideways to look forward.  Like backward:

Neither contemplates direction.

If dreams sputtered early and were caught before death, would we save them to prove they were here?

Into the net made of miniature holes, they’d fall out.  And push through.  

Earth rolling flat below them. 

The Box

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I swallowed a secret a million years before numbers, so that nothing could be held accountable.

Scrolled up, jotted down, and shoved to the back of a bottle, the message was almost drowned.

Let me out! Let me out!  A pocketed paper screamed from below.

But when pulled up and rolled out, the ink had smeared rows.

Neither black, nor white, with no crisp lines to write on,

the page merged gray in conviction.

“But what was the secret?”

The question in question has stopped being questioned.

The message was found irresponsible.