The Surreal Adventures of Anthony Zen: Episode 1 - Anthony Gets Up for Work Read online

  The Surreal Adventures of Anthony Zen

  Cameron A. Straughan

 

  Copyright ? 2014 Cameron A. Straughan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact the publisher.

  First Printing - August, 2014

  "The Surreal Adventures of Anthony Zen"

  ISBN 978-0-9686981-5-0

  A copy of this eBook is available in the Legal Deposit,

  Library and Archives Canada

 

  "All worries and troubles have gone from my breast and I play joyfully far from the world. For a person of Zen, no limits exist. The blue sky must feel ashamed to be so small."

  Muso Soseki

  "The streets are full of admirable craftsmen, but so few practical dreamers."

  Man Ray

  "Humor is reason gone mad."

  Groucho Marx

 

  A Brief History of Zen

  'The Surreal Adventures of Anthony Zen' is a collection of twenty-three humorous, interlocking short stories. The stories first appeared as a series in The University of Guelph (Ontario, Canada) student papers 'The Ontarion' and 'The Peak' between 1989 and 1993. They were developed into a radio serial that was broadcast in 1997 at CJSF - Simon Fraser University's community radio station (Vancouver). Some of the stories appeared in 'Satire: The Journal of Contemporary Satire'.

 

  Episode 1 - Anthony Gets Up for Work

  Anthony Zen awoke from troubled dreams. It was the loud ringing of his alarm clock that spared him this time. Rubbing his eyes, he was thankful the ordeal was over - at least until the next time he slept. The vivid imagery had been plaguing him for weeks. He remembered it all too well. It was the same each time.

  There was a costume party at a massage parlour where people could get their trousers hand-washed while they were still in them. Anthony showed up wearing the banana costume his mother made for him. It seemed ideal at first, although it was difficult to move around in. It certainly got him noticed by the regular clientele. He felt proud. He was confident he'd win the prize for best costume. However, soon thereafter, a dark cloud rose on the horizon.

  A man dressed up as Sigmund Freud arrived. He'd spot Anthony immediately and come running over. The dream quickly turned into nightmare. He just wouldn't leave Anthony alone. He took notes too! The nightmare always ended with the manager of the massage parlour approaching Anthony and telling him the costume party was last week.

  Motionless on his bed, thoughts of troubled dreams dissolved, washed away by the annoying clamour of the alarm. He was fully awake now, yet he felt quite drowsy - a trait he inherited from his father. He pondered the day which lay spread out before him like twenty-four hours placed all in a row. Working and eating, eating and working - when would it end? The alarm clock, oblivious to such periods of deep philosophical thought, rang on insistently. This struck him as unusual.

  While there's nothing extraordinary about being awakened by an alarm, or the fact it continues to ring until you make an effort to turn it off, he became so troubled he sat up in bed. After a period of careful thought and recollection, made almost impossible by the constant ringing, he realized he didn't own an alarm clock.

  Pulling his covers over his head, Anthony assumed his cat was acting up on him again. Originally, he thought it best to take the cat back and get it fixed, but its guarantee expired long ago. Regardless of the guarantee, however, he was honestly somewhat reluctant to get his cat fixed. After all, the eccentric feline provided hours of entertainment for friends and family. They loved to watch him sit atop Anthony's dresser, tail wagging violently, as he issued that strange ringing sound. For this very reason, and because it was his favourite television show for that week, Anthony named his cat Family Fortunes.

  Anthony - not being much of a morning person - was rarely in the mood for Family Fortunes. He tossed a shoe at the ringing cat and chased it off his dresser, ending its annoying noise making. Luckily, he always wore his shoes to bed as a defence against a wide variety of rowdy, ignorant animals producing strange mechanical noises during the early morning hours. However, the main reason he wore his shoes to bed had more to do with his amazing powers of forgetfulness - another trait he inherited from his father.

  Anthony drew his attention away from his eccentric cat. He realized, to his horror, that it was 8:57 a.m. He had only three minutes to get ready and arrive at work. Empowered by a sudden sense of urgency, he leaped out of bed, got dressed, did his hair, ate breakfast, and showered thoroughly. Feeling clean, yet incredibly wet, his mind began to drift.

  Wandering around the flat, he found himself admiring his collection of round objects. Several of Anthony's friends had a special admiration for his collection. Every time an earthquake was threatening, they would race over to his flat to watch him scurry about, attempting to catch the round objects as they rolled off the high shelves - often crushing a spectator or two. It was all good fun and Anthony enjoyed it immensely.

  Distracted by the collection of round objects, Anthony was definitely on a roll. He wandered over to his second-most prized possession - the answering machine next to his telephone. He stopped in front of the machine and asked it a question. As usual, it didn't answer. He decided to return it before its guarantee expired.

  With some reluctance, Anthony continued to prepare for work. Family Fortunes leaped back up onto the dresser and rang on and on. While checking on the contents of his briefcase, Anthony paused to reflect on his cat.

  Anthony's parents got him the cat to help pass the time. The cat spent most of its time atop the dresser - a small Buddha quietly witnessing Anthony's life unfold. Rarely did it move, except to twitch its whiskers. With each twitch of its whiskers Anthony's whiskers grew longer. Anthony faced quite the dilemma - he liked being clean-shaven, but hated shaving. Such was life, he figured - and then there was the ringing. Anthony agreed with the old adage - cats never do what you want them to. Aside from the excessive ringing, coupled with some tail wagging for good measure, the cat just watched. Was it oblivious to Anthony's trials and tribulations? After all, it had the perfect life - sleeping, eating, chasing some leaves, sleeping, eating - while Anthony had to go to work; he could only chase leaves on weekends. Or was the cat secretly bearing witness to the minutia of Anthony's life? Second by second, minute by minute - the cat watched. Perhaps it was no wonder that the first two years of a cat's life are equal to the first twenty-five of Anthony's life; and for each additional year the cat bears witness, he has actually aged four 'Anthony years'. It must be a heavy burden weighing upon the cat, Anthony thought. All that watching, paying close attention to each and every moment, must surely pile the years on.

  Anthony glanced towards Family Fortunes. Perhaps he was projecting too much onto his pet, so much so that he was missing what was most important - the bond they had developed after years together. Their relationship was a geologist's dream. Yes, Anthony knew it was a horrible clich? - but it was true. Resting on a solid foundation, the high peaks defied scrutiny. Occasional tremors shook loose debris. It tumbled down the slopes and gathered in the valleys where enquiring minds could sift through it. Cracks and crevices appeared and disappeared,
challenging picks, hammers and trowels. Terminal moraines strove for significance but Anthony had already wrung the clich? dry without having to bring glacial action into it. It was time to put his thoughts to rest and finish getting ready for work. Anthony awoke the geologists from their dreams, gingerly navigating the equipment scattered across the floor of his flat. The geologists, never satisfied until they crack the hard outer shell to examine the soft magma flowing deep within, had a fit. They snatched up their equipment. With picks and trowels flailing madly overhead, dragging ropes and tents behind them, Anthony ignored their displeasure at being awakened and ushered them out the window. He watched them rappel to the street below. Casting off their ropes, they were madly off in all directions, looking for someone else's bedrock to examine.

  Suddenly, Anthony became distracted. Sighing deeply, his train of thought broken, he gazed around the flat. His cat seemed to be ringing with exceptional vigour, for some unknown reason. It was just as well; he simply had to get ready for work, without further daydreams or drifting thoughts. With a new found sense of urgency, he completed checking on the contents of his briefcase. As usual, there was nothing in it. That's the way he liked it. It remained light weight - easy to carry, easy to keep tidy.

  While making a few other last minute preparations, the increased ringing began to bother him. Peering out the window, just by chance, he noticed that several of his neighbours had gathered outside in their pyjamas, surrounded by their most precious belongings. They were nervous types, Anthony thought to himself. Family Fortunes' ringing rarely coincided with an actual fire.

  Amongst the clamour, Anthony realized his door bell was ringing. It could have been ringing for quite some time. Obviously, Family Fortunes - having not been neutered yet - was greatly aroused by the sound of the door bell. This explained his sudden fervour. He was simply reciprocating the sound of his unseen mate. With hands clasped over his ears, Anthony rushed to answer the door. He was met by his parents, waiting impatiently in the corridor.

  Anthony's mother was stomping her right foot. Over the years, this action had come to symbolize her impatience, although more than just a few keen observers had detected a direct relationship between the vigour of her stomping and the number of ants in her general vicinity. Regardless, her stomping motion was highly effective. The secret lay in her army boots. During grade school, Anthony suffered endless ridicule, because of his mother's choice of footwear.

  Anthony's father, on the other hand, was completely naked. Apparently, he had forgotten, once again, to get dressed before going out. Yes, parent-teacher nights had always been a harrowing experience for young Anthony, particularly when the floor was covered with ants.

  It was painfully obvious that Anthony's parents had dropped by for a quick visit. The note his mother took out and pinned to his chin - outlining their reasons for stopping by - accounted for most of the pain. Through force of habit, or by way of an excuse, Anthony checked his watch. He was overcome with panic. It was 8:58 a.m. He had a mere two minutes to get to work. Snatching his briefcase, he was left with no choice. Before his parents could get a word in edgewise, let alone demand the money he owed them, he thrust them into his flat, locking them in with his ringing cat.

  Anthony bolted out of the block of flats. Passing quickly through the large crowd gathered outside, he assured neighbours and firemen alike that the building wasn't on fire. As he ran off into the distance, towards work, his father thrust his head out the window - apparently forgetting to open the window first.

  "Anthony," he hollered down, "you're not wearing any trousers!"

  Like father, like son.

 

 

 

  About the Author

  Cameron A. Straughan is a Canadian writer, photographer, film maker, and teacher of science. His writing has appeared in several popular publications including 'Satire: The Journal of Contemporary Satire', 'The Dream People Online Literary Journal' and 'Black Cat 115'. He has performed his short stories at several open-mike events; including readings in Windsor, Ontario, and throughout Vancouver, BC. His award-winning humorous films have appeared in many festivals around the world. He currently resides in the Dickensian splendour of Rochester, UK.

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