Saturday, September 29, 2007

Hello from Marcus...

Hello, my name is Marcus. I live down the hall from the Vietnamese girls here on Willow Ct. in San Francisco. I am Irv's friend. We only met a few days ago when he arrived here with Kwan, but we are best friends. I know that's unusual and some would say, Marcus, that's impossible! Well, I want everyone to know it is not impossible!

Me and Irv have a lot in common. We both have long sideburns (as soon as I grow mine). We both workout (I hold his legs while he does 100 situps in the evenings). And we're both bi (One day I'll meet a girl).

Last summer I won the "Baked Ziti Eat-Off" at the Santa Clara County Fair by eating 5 baked Zitis in less than twenty minutes faster than all 16 other contestants. I won 80 dollars. I also had to be admitted to the Emergency Room at O'Conner Hospital. My health insurance refused to pay for the emergency invasive gastro procedure that my doctor recommended. Luckily, I had my credit card.

Irv says he knows how I can pay off my credit card. Irv also says his uncle works for the health insurance company that refused my procedure and he knows how I can get even.

Irv is my best friend. I kissed him last night and he was fine with it.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

The Good Ol' Days

Irv here--

Yes, Uncle Vick, I remember the good times. I am weeping while I type this. When my father was gone so often and my mother was in rehab, you took me on hunting trips with the neighbors. You and I would sit in the back of that jeep and you'd get high and drink Jack Daniels and tear off your clothes and try to kiss Mr. Klieg. Mr. Klieg would chew tobacco and spit and hit the accelerator with his boot, and you'd fall off the back and then chase the jeep through the fields naked. Mr. Klieg would finally stop, and he and his weird wife would be laughing, only...I wouldn't. You'd jump back in the jeep with thorns and pieces of grass stuck all over you and then you'd vomit.

Oh yes, those were happy days!

I remember when you fought my own father for custody of me when my mother was in rehab. You claimed my father was out of control on meth when he was really out working on a job with the cops. You said my father had huge "chicken fighting" underground parties at the school auditorium late at night and that he fed meth to the chickens to make them fight harder, and that he could make chickens stay up three days in a row.

It's so moving!

I remember when you ballooned up to 279 pounds on those lemon squares and then went on disability at the expense of "Wrap Around Care" or "Who Really Health Cares?" or "Under and Over Medical Insurance" or whatever bullshit company you work for.

Man! As I watch the sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge this evening from my new car with my new girlfriend, I wish and I wish that I could have THOSE fucking days back again!


Monday, September 24, 2007

From Jail

Hey, It's Uncle Vick here--

Irv, I know you are readin' this blog. I read the entries every day. They let me use their computer here in jail.

What happened to our family? Ever since the horrible incident last Thanksgiving when Momma shot your fingers off, I've been scratchin' my head. All I try to do is what's right.

And how do you repay me? By stealin' my girlfriend and jumpin' town? By tiein' up my brother and leavin' him naked in a motel? Huh? Dude, you planted my fingerprints, dna, and geez, my business card too - on that woman's body. I've got a photo to prove it. Surprise!

Cryin' shame our family's been torn apart like this. Police won't listen to me, but it'll all come out in the wash. You'll see. Every family gets revenge, right?

You and I were close. I taught you how to play online poker. We had that running joke about the Olsen Twins. Remember? You had no place to live after you dropped out of community college and I let you move in with me and Kwan. Geez, Irv. I baked lemon squares for us on Wednesday nights when "Lost" was on, and we went deer hunting with the neighbors and got to sit in the back of their jeep. Remember?

What you did to me and to my mom and dad is unspeakable. Plane crash? Yeah, right.

I've got lots of time to think in this jail cell. And to plan...

Friday, September 21, 2007

Rain Rain

Hi, it's Kwan!

Life can change overnight, it's true!

Irv is strong, and in the end he was able to get the gun away from his dad when his dad dozed off. He left his dad in the room with no clothes, tied to the bed, with duct tape over his mouth.

We hit the road this morning. I realized that love is real. We had to put the top up on the Corvette when the rain started. Irv showed me how to scream in the car to get rid of your rage. We took turns.

He told me he hated that he was 38 and had no career, and then he roared for 30 seconds and shook his head.

I said I hated that no one took me seriously because I'm an asian woman and that I'm smarter than most of the white dudes out there, and then I screamed for a really long time! It felt so good. I went hoarse. I shook my arms and kicked my legs.

The Corvette was roaring up the I-5 and the rain was pelting the windshield.

Irv said he hated Republicans and the way people in power screw everyone no matter what you do, and then Irv shouted and roared again.

We were laughing hysterically.

I said I hated how fucked up this country has gotten and there's no healthcare and I hated Uncle Vick and then I screamed again.

Irv covered his ears, the Corvette swerved in the rain, and we stopped laughing while Irv regained control of the car.

We just got to my girlfriend's house here in San Francisco. While Irv was in the bathroom my two girlfriends from Vietnam said they agreed he was a hunk. They're making dinner for us. I'm so happy. I'm going to start campaigning for Congress right away and Irv's going to help me.

Irv seems to like the guy that lives next door a lot. The guy said hello and then dropped over and invited himself to dinner. Am I silly to be jealous?


Thursday, September 20, 2007

Silk Shirt Doodah

Hello out there in TVland--

I'm Lonnie Rorg. I'm a private investigator. Before that, I was a male nurse. I had a motorcycle accident and had to give up nursing in 1998. I'm not able to fully bend over.

Anyway, my son, Irv, and his girlfriend, Connie, and I are holed up in this lovely room here on the I-5. We are not leaving here until I get my son to finally tell the truth. He drives the girls and now I find out, the boys, wild with his good looks, but he has a hard time tellin' the truth.

We Rorgs are good men. Basically. Y'know? I mean, as good as men are able to be. My son, Irv, framed my brother Vick with that body buried in the backyard. I know this because I investigate for a living. Mostly I follow cheatin' husbands and lovers of straights and gays, when their spouses find strange hairs on their coats or phone numbers on torn pieces of paper.

Why do I investigate? Well...because there's always a story deeper than what you see, right? Nothing anyone says is what it seems. No, that's not paranoid, it's true! My parents were like that - may they rest in peace. They'd tell me and Vick things when we were kids that later turned out to be false. Like, we had money in our college funds. Or, "the dental industry is a scam."

Now, my son, Irv, is tellin' whoppers and it's got to stop. But he won't budge. We've spent hours in here, eatin' delivery pizzas. I wish I'd made it to the Labor Day Barbecue because I was going to straighten out my son right then and there. But I got delayed because I dropped my car keys, and like I said, I can't bend over.

Anyway, I wish I'd brought an extra shirt. This green silk number ain't holdin' up as the days tick on and on. And I can't really hold poor Connie here anymore. She's angry at us Rorgs. She says she's wasted time with us that she should be spendin' campaignin'.

But I got the gun. And my son's behavior has gotta stop here. Problem is, I'm takin' No-Doze and I need to Doze, if ya know what I mean. I'm not young anymore.

I want Irv to confess.

Lonnie Rorg, PI

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Last Night

Kwan again --

Is that what love does? Blinds you? I guess that's true, because last night Irv's father got out of the red Prius and pressed a police badge against our motel window. Irv was in bed, and I had come out of the motel bathroom (as you know, that's where I like to blog).

Irv yelled: "Stay down!"

I threw myself to the floor, and let me tell you, motel carpeting is not a pretty place to be.

That's when the door got kicked in and in bursts this guy that looks just like Vick, holding a handgun. Balding. Pudgy. Only Irv's dad has a gray goatee and he's wearing a green silk shirt and black jeans. Dark sunglasses too. And it's NIGHT.

God, I thought. Will Irv look like this guy in 20 years? This family is nuts. You're right, reader Susan. What am I doing?? I want to run for Congress and I'm involved with this messed up stuff? Irv is BI for Chrissake. How am I supposed to compete with another man, if Irv swings the other way?

I got all these realizations sprawled on the motel carpet behind the bed in front of the bathroom.

Irv's dad closed the door behind him.

We've been locked in here together all day today. It was horrible. I don't know whether to believe father or son.

Love. It's a fantasy we decide to have, right?

I can't write anymore now. I want to say more, but I've been given the "evil eye."


Sunday, September 16, 2007

Kwan Song

Kwan speaking--

I have never been in love like this before! I have never been in love period. Is this what it is like? We drove 340 miles today. We were so happy we sang Barry Manilow songs off Irv's Ipod. We had the top down on our new car and I undid my hair in back and it flowed behind me like I was on a poster!

The last time my hair flowed behind me like that was when the Coast Guard stopped our refugee boat outside of Honolulu and transported us all to processing. I sat in back of the police boat and tears squeezed from my eyes when I remembered the family I had left behind, before the coast guard man told me I would get my hair caught in the engine if I didn't move inside the vessel.

Today I cried tears of joy. The police determined that Vick had killed the social worker they found buried in the backyard. On her body they found Vick's DNA ,and his fingerprints, and his business card.

We heard on Sirius Radio that the cops no longer wanted us for questioning.

We will be in San Francisco tomorrow. I will run for Congress. I knew when Irv made love to me on paper towels that I had found my "Ishi," my soul mate.

I must sign off now. I have a shiver. A red Prius has pulled into the motel driveway...


Friday, September 14, 2007


Irv here. I’m the one who started this blog, but it’s everyone else that writes in it! Not so lonely anymore.

We’re at a gas station under bright white fluorescents. Since both the cops and my dad are following us, obviously I won’t say where we are. I just did 100 pushups. My finger stubs are itching like my two fingers are still there.

We ditched my Honda. Lost my dad, too. Ha Ha.

Kwan likes our new car. She picked it out.

Funny, but I’m not depressed anymore. I’m finally taking action in my life – instead of wasting time living with my psycho uncle.

Although, my psycho uncle was right! This sissy blog was a good idea. People read it! That chick that said Kwan should wait until I’m asleep and steal the car – made us both laugh!

Kwan isn’t my hostage – she’s with me by choice

Hear that, Uncle Vick? I made love to your girlfriend last night in our new car. Her idea, too -- on a roll of paper towels. Hear that? I’m not gay.

Not “not gay” like Senator Larry Craig. Dude spreads his feet farther than if he were at the gynecologist’s office. At least, I admit I’m bi. Best of both worlds.

And Kwan and I – we got plans. I’m gonna help her run for Congress when we get where we’re going. I’ll work for her! Yeah, that’s right – me with a politics. The Democrats need people like us.

Uncle Vick is a liar. There is no proof I killed those people.


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Follow Up Report From Social Services

Hello Irv-- It's me, Cynthia, your social worker again.

I was hoping you would return to Vick Rorg's house with Kwan, but no one has heard from you in days.

The police dug up the corner of Vick Rorg's backyard and found the body of the missing social worker from last Thanksgiving. They arrested Vick Rorg last night at his place of employment. The house is now under police quarantine.

They have a description of your Honda, of you and Kwan, and of your father's red Prius.

I must admit, I've been drinking pretty heavily since the Labor Day Barbecue. I've never had a shotgun pointed at me, and consequently, I can't stop thinking about you.

I guess I love you. Maybe it's the rum talking, but I love you, Irv Rorg. You're young and muscular and troubled. You have questionable sexuality, and you have low self-esteem. My gray hair is hanging over my eyes as I write this. How could you love an old woman like me?

I'd follow you out to the desert if I knew where to find you. That hot sun beating down on the two of us together. I'd help to fix you, you misguided social outcast. I love you, Irv. I love you.

Whewwww....I just fell off my couch. Did I say I love you? Well, I do! I just do! I'd sit you on my knee and bounce you up and down and make you laugh. Gawd, I've got to stop drinking. That's how I lost my last job.

Irv, come back to me. We only just met, but I know we were meant to be together!

I've got to go now, my love. Super Nanny is on. I'm kissing this bottle and pretending it is you!

Monday, September 10, 2007

Customer Service

Hey, it's Vick -- "Uncle" Vick --

Workin late at Complete Wrap Health Insurance Hotline. Just told a guy we can't cover his broken arm. Setting the arm is "too experimental" for our company to cover. That's what we tell everyone. The only people we actually cover are the families of the CEO and his VPs!

Been 3 days since Kwan and Irv took off in Irv's piece-o-crappo Honda. That red Prius belongs to my brother, Lonnie. Yeah, I really do have a brother. An older brother. He just turned 55 and he's still pissed that Irv killed our parents. Hell, he's pissed that Hillary Clinton is the Democratic front runner. Said he'd go get Irv and the bitch who used to be my girlfriend. Go get 'em out in the desert. Lonnie's a PI, so he knows how to stealth follow people.

Lonnie has issues, yeah. He once threw the neighbors pit bull over the fence when it ate its way through into our yard. That's the first time that dog was ever scared.

Go get 'em Lonnie. Irv deserves it. Irv is Lonnie's son, I guess you figured out by now. God, those two never got along. I thought I could help Irv find his way. Stop bein' so depressed.

Lonnie said to stay out of it and jumped in his Prius and took off after Irv and Kwan.

Hey, Kwan! I miss ya! I can find me a new girfriend anytime, y'know. Pick 'em up every day when they call Managed Care. Sick women are the easiest.

Never said I was nice. But, I'm good in bed, huh, Kwannie? :-)

Uncle Vick

Friday, September 7, 2007

Hot Spot in the Desert

It's Kwan again. I'm writing this by firelight. We are out in the desert but I won't say where. There's WiFi here, which is hilarious because there aren't even any electric outlets.

Vick, if you are reading this we won't be here tomorrow.

I'm watching Irv stoke the fire right now with an old skinny treebranch. His shirt is off and he's got a great body. With those pointy long sideburns...I guess I'm lonely. Irv doesn't seem to care much about this blog anymore. He's more concerned with the red Prius that we've seen following us every day.

The wind is blowing that thick black hair of his and I can see flecks of firelight in his eyes. He keeps looking behind him into the darkness. It's actually cold out here tonight. Summer went so fast!

Things change so quickly. I read that social worker's blog. She says Vick says Irv is the killer of Vick's parents. I don't know what to believe anymore.

I didn't have feelings for Vick. I refuse to have any for Irv.

But what do I really know about him except that he started this blog...?

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

A Report From Social Services

My name is Cynthia. I am the social worker for the family of Mr. Victor Rorg. Victor suggested I make an entry in this blog in order to contact his nephew and a woman named Kwan.

Nephew Irv, if you can hear me, your uncle would like you to come home and deal with your issues as a family. Your two aunts have gone home. I must say that the Caucasion aunt looked very much like a man, but that is not pertinent to this case at this time.

I have notified the police regarding your assertion that a previous social worker is buried in the backyard. They came out today and put yellow tape around the alleged burial area. They plan to dig tomorrow.

I am writing from my office in the city. I am afraid to go home after the incident on Labor Day. I have not had a shotgun pointed at me before. Not in all my years of social work. The worst that ever happened to me before last Monday's barbecue was I was once locked in a closet by a woman who said she was possessed by demons. Ironically, the woman was a psychotherapist. She had been verbally abusing her husband and putting printer cartridges in her mouth.

Irv, please return to your Uncle's house. He is uninjured. In fact, after you ran away, he ate two more chicken wienies and a half pound of potato salad out of a pewter mug. He claims you killed his parents and not he.

The police have been notified. It is best if you allow them to question you.


Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Irv's Honda

It's Kwan.

I've finally left Vick! Irv and I drove 480 miles last night. We're here in the desert now. Irv had some money saved. He's 38 but he looks much younger. He doesn't have hair on his chest like Vick.

Irv said I looked like my father when I showed him the family pictures from Vietnam. I held Irv's hand, the one missing the fingers, last night when I took my turn at the wheel.

I know Vick can access this blog, but he'll never find us. He probably doesn't care about us anyway.

All I've got are the jeans and shirts in my travel bag. I'm a refugee again.

You can see so many stars out here in the desert.

Is it possible to laugh and cry at the same time?

I won't say where we're staying. We thought we were being followed.

I'm so angry and so restless. How can I run for Congress when I've left my Congressional District? How can I do anything now?

Monday, September 3, 2007

Happy Labor DAy!

This is Irv --

Our Family Labor Day Barbecue "party" is still going on.

Uncle Vick is lying face down on the collapsed condiment tray. He's breathing. We can see mustard rising and falling on his shoulders.

Keep typing, Kwan.

I'm holding the twelve-gauge shotgun, pointed at my two "aunts," while the new social worker, Cynthia, runs around in circles on the backyard lawn, freaking out and screaming.

The neighbor's pit bull nextdoor is too frightened to bark.

I punched Uncle Vick in the face fifteen minutes ago. He's still unconscious. Vodka and a fist to the jaw will do that.

Keep typing, Kwan.

Kwan had shown up early to the barbecue to warn me that Vick was going to do to me what was done to his parents last Thanksgiving.

We had three beers each and I told her I'm fed up with being bullied and threatened.

Around 9, Vick had finished his fourth chicken wienie (he hates ostrich), when he stood up and announced to everyone that I had killed his parents last Thanksgiving. That his mother had shot my fingers off in self-defense.

My fingers itched.

I said, "I'm not the one that came flying out of the garage using the 'German baking knife' like we were at Benihana!" I told him, "You deny people their health care for a living. I know for a fact you don't have any sisters. All your mother said last Thanksgiving was that she had gone through your room."

My two "aunts" jumped up.

Cynthia, the new social worker, used some kind of social worker technique and told us all to breathe deeply and think of the ocean.

I pointed to the corner of the yard and told Cynthia that's where Vick had buried the previous social worker.

"And the police believed it was a plane crash..." I added.

That's when Cynthia started flapping her arms and screaming.

Uncle Vick grabbed Kwan.

I punched Vick in the face. He fell flat onto the condiment tray and sent relish into the trees.

Keep typing, Kwan. Look how scared those "aunts" of mine are!

We're taking my car and the twelve gauge and we're leaving here for good. Just you and I. Right now. Before Vick's brother gets here. If he really has a brother.

Happy Labor Day!

Sunday, September 2, 2007

Barbecue Prep

Irv here.

I've been dreading tomorrow's barbecue, as you know, for the past few weeks. With Uncle Vick and Kwan gone, this house has creeped me out. Plus, it's so hot outside, all I can do is crank up the air-conditioner and watch videos on YouTube. Saw a video today called "My Cat Wore a Wig and Went Dancing."

I'm not alone tonight. The new social worker has arrived and she's moved in already. Her name is Cynthia. She looks like Angela Lansbury (before she died). Cynthia's here to help our family cope with the first holiday since the killings. She was supposed to be here last Christmas, but there's a backlog of cases.

Cynthia packed the fridge with beer, potato salad, and ostrich burgers. I hate ostrich burgers, but Cynthia says her family used to breed ostriches.

Cynthia went right to work decorating the patio with American Flags left over from the Fourth of July. Really, what is the proper decoration for Labor Day? When she asked me, I said since most companies had cut out their pension plans and employee health insurance, why not little cardboard gravestones?

Cynthia didn't laugh. She told me I should shave off my sideburns since many employers didn't want "alternative lifestyle fashions" in the workplace.

I told Cynthia she should shave her legs.

We haven't spoken to each other since.

I keep remembering that awful meal last Thanksgiving when Uncle Vick killed his parents and the last social worker.

I hope tomorrow goes better...


Saturday, September 1, 2007

Horrible Women

Kwan here. It's hotter than Hades tonight. That's what my parents on the refugee boat used to say, and it's true now.

I'm back at the Paradise Motel. Vick's out drinking at the gas station with some guy named Morongo.

I met Vick's two "sisters" today. One of them is white and one of them is black. The white one is very tall with very big hands. The black one looked uncomfortable and wore a man's stetson hat.

We went shopping at Ralph's -- for food for Monday's barbecue. Vick stole twenty chicken sausages from the gourmet freezer. His white sister stuffed ten of them in her clutch purse. The black one used her hat.

We actually paid for the potatoes and the vodka. I tried to run away but Vick's white sister held me with one of her giant hands in a grip like a Yeti. "This is an important national holiday," she whispered in my ear. She had to bend down to reach my ear.

Vick bought some new bathing trunks on sale, 38 waist.

We watched beach volleyball all evening, and then the women left and Vick went across the street to drink with Morongo. Morongo manages the motel.

I found a way to open this bathroom window. By the time Vick reads this, I'll be gone.