It Must Be The Full Moon
A Novel by Gary Canup
Author Bio / Contact
Copyright 2017 by Gary Canup
I was born in St. Louis and graduated summa cum laude from the University of Missouri with a BA in English and with minors in philosophy and psychology. While at the university, I discovered the authors who were to become major influences: Faulkner, Hemingway, Camus, Vonnegut, Kosinski, Woody Allen. In my spare time I also took a physics course and invented a time machine, but I digress.
Since graduation I have led a life full of travel and adventure. In 1982 I climbed to the top of Mount Everest, where I was surprised to find a McDonald's. The manager told me that the place wasn't doing too well. Every three months or so a couple of Sherpas and a mountain goat came in for fries, but that was about it. Then he broke down in tears. I ordered a Big Mac to go.
Mount Everest, however, is not the farthest that I have traveled, not by a long shot. I once had an out-of-body experience and floated off to meet the Creator of the Universe himself. He looks nothing like Michelangelo's depiction of him on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He looks more like a used-car salesman from Newark, sleazy mustache and all. He told me that his real name is Shecky, but I think he was just pulling my leg. He taught me to love my neighbors and my enemies, advised me always to be honest and fair, then sold me a '56 Buick with a leaky radiator.
In 1927 I was running with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain when I tripped over Ernest Hemingway and landed face down in a cowpie.
During the Second World War, I personally slapped Hitler for insulting my belt buckle. He cried like a girl.
In 1876 I was captured by a tribe of cannibals in the Congo. After stripping me naked to prepare me for boiling, they gasped and stepped back in awe, dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, and even today I am worshipped there as a three-legged god.
In 1895, while vacationing in London, I got drunk on English ale and publicly declared that Queen Victoria had a face like the hind end of a rhino. I was tried and thrown into prison, where Oscar Wilde made me his bitch.
In 1596 I was standing behind Shakespeare and gazing over his shoulder with admiration as he sat at his desk composing Romeo's speech upon first gazing upon Juliet: "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I never saw true beauty until this night." Then the Bard leaned to one side and let one rip. I don't know what that guy was eating but I had to flee the room with my hand over my nose.
One day out of the blue I received a love letter from one of Chairman Mao's concubines, who for some reason thought I was Australian. I considered writing her back and inviting her to come on down and put some shrimp on the barbie but I was afraid that her government might think that I was trying to help her to defect and send some goons over here to work me over. I didn't want to start an international incident.
I really do hate it when I start international incidents. I suggested to Hitler one day in casual conversation that he might be able to overcome his deep-rooted feelings of sexual inadequacy by invading Poland. I feel kind of guilty about that now.
My outspokenness has often gotten me into trouble. I once told Mozart that Beethoven is the better composer and he came after me with a wiener schnitzel. I told Mother Teresa that she looked fat. I never made that mistake again. Who knew the old broad had a temper?
I am currently living the quiet life in midwestern USA, where I delight the children with my Beavis and Butt-Head impressions.
My biggest regret is that I have led such a dull life that I occasionally must fictionalize it.