THE FORWARD: About Bartholomew’s Author—We met Paul after we became cognizant of the fact that he was our dad. It wasn’t long before we also discovered he couldn’t take a selfie. We offer this photo as exhibit A. But, not to worry, there won’t be an exibit B—we’re not that evil.
What’s really odd, however, is how his nose always shows up red in every photo? We can’t help but wonder if didn’t possibly sniff up a retina at some point in life?
Our dad is very fond of saying that “About Bartholomew” is an amazing new work of fiction from one of America’s best UNKNOWN BLOGGERS. We’re sure the novella version of the novel will likely keep it that way.
Bet you didn’t know our dad has written other fabulous works of fiction (true story) for some of the best publishers in the business? Now if only they knew.
This may also help to explain why he now writes for WordPress where he continues to labor in the shadow of such names as Steinbeck, Austin, and Hemingway. That would be Joan Steinbeck, John Austin, and Ernestine Hemingway—their blogs are so much better.
So, it is with his offsprings love that we invite you to read his latest masterpiece (Ha, ha, ha,ha!) “About Bartholomew” at your own risk—wittled down to a paltry 1437 words, all thanks to some merciful editors.
Please keep in mind, this was all made possible thanks to WordPress—so blame them.
“I dedicate this story to my wife and children who will not make one penny off of it—while I stand to make millions. That’s because they laughed all the way through it.” I’ll show them—Paul
CHAPTER ONE: Don’t Go Towards The Light
It was a dark and stormy night outside? Not that he would have noticed, as it was warm and cozy inside. He felt closer to her now somehow, what with her heart pounding like a hundred warehouse pumps in an echo chamber, and all at once.
“If only I had a pair of earplugs.” he thought himself—as he found it impossible to telepathically transfer his thoughts to someone else.
Suddenly, up from down under (no, not Australia), he caught sight of a light entering into his tiny room. As this ray of light began to grow brighter and brighter he thought he could hear a choir of angels singing—rather badly at that.
As Bartholomew’s eyes gradually began to widen, he was barely able to make out some shadowy figures staring back at him—one of whom appeared to be holding some forceps.
Through his (Ray-Ban) sunglasses (purchased online from a “Babies Are Us”), he now could see that the figures were all wearing masks. Panicky, he thought to himself “Who are these masked figures and what do they want of me? “How did they get access to my womb? Uh…room?” And that’s when it hit him…
“Hey, I’m naked here!”
CHAPTER TWO: When Sally Slept With Tom, Dick And Harry… And Bartholomew!
There was only one man for Sally. Harry. Even after a shave and a haircut he’d still be Harry. But, he was still her man. As was, Tom the Uber driver, Dick the hunky pool boy, and…Bartholomew.
Oh sure, there were other males in her life, but this is only a novella and not a five thousand page novel—as originally intended. So, you’ll probably never find out who the rest of them were—without a court order.
Sally thought to herself, “It’s only Bartholomew and Harry for me. They’ll always be the only two men in my life.”
And then she was hit with an epiphany,
“What if Chris Hemsworth were to suddenly show a decided interest in moi?”
“Well, then Chris will be the only man in my life.” She smiled to herself, happy in her dream, “Otherwise, it’ll just be Bartholomew… and Tom, and Dick, and Harry. Okay… and Chris too, who I’ll never forget should he change his mind and fall for me—BIG TIME!”
Still, she was satisfied that at least she’d have some outs in case it didn’t work out with, Chris.
Harry, on the other hand, came into her life like some kind of millstone—earlier in chapter two. Athough, Bartholomew—the younger of the two—won her over without ever saying a word.
They shared a bed together, and yes, she put up with his babbling and goo gooing and ga gaing all the time, but he was her baby.
What else could she do… put him up for adoption? Not hardly…that would have meant an extra chapter for this writer!
Meanwhile, Harry was wrestling with a whole different issue. That of… Bartholomew. “It’s not possible!” he thought. “She wasn’t pregnant and we never had sex!” Harry exclaimed, to those reading this masterpiece.
“It could only be an immaculate conception!” he concluded—wrongly.
CHAPTER THREE: Act Two!
And Bartholomew did. In shock from being evicted from his tiny apartment by total strangers who were not midwives—and the Department of Health—Bartholomew became scarred by the experience—poor tyke.
“It was probably the forceps.” he thought to himself. “After all, who uses forceps anymore?” His thoughts were very evolved for a two-year old.
Anyway, the last two years had left him with a terrible diaper rash—and quite irritated.
He swore revenge on the two people responsible for the eviction—especially since they gave him no written notice. He’d unleash an act of revenge, so diabolical, that other parents of the world would suffer too. So, he plotted to do the unthinkable.
“I will take to asking my parents…’WHY?’… every chance I get.” (Told you it was diabolical.)
CHAPTER FOUR: A Colorful Narrative… In Black And White
The wind was howling the way coyote’s howl at the moon, “Ahwooo…wooo…wooo…wooo!” Trees bending to its every whim.
“You…on the left, bend that way. And you on the right, bend the other way.” Said the wind talking—and a bottle of twelve-year old scotch.
A swift gale caused night owls to fly backwards—people out late, are not usually able to fly backwards—this, while actual night owls were getting a hoot out of watching the people frantically flapping their arms about in an effort to stay aloft.
Of course, none of this descriptive narrative has anything at all to do with our story—but I had to put it somewhere. So, I thought it better to put this colorful narrative all in one chapter.
CHAPTER FIVE: All The Dramatic Moments You Missed While Reading My Colorful Narrative In Chapter Four
There was an exciting plane crash into the Vatican. Take my word for it, it was action packed!
Then the Pope pulled a pearl handle gun out from his shoulder holster—which the papacy is allowed to use, but only in extreme emergencies—and shot it out with a bunch of clowns from a traveling Circus.
Then there was that thrilling fight to the death atop Mt. Everest with a Sherpa—who was not actually a Sherpa at all, but a llama assassin… in disguise!
And the “Great Flood of Jello” which wiggled its way down the buttes of the Mojave Desert at midday, wiping out some odious traveling nomads searching for the mysterious birth place of Bartholomew.
Which, as it turns out, wasn’t actually important to the story after all.
And finally, there was the enchanting conclusion where in the “Magical Town of Bakersfield” Bartholomew suddenly breaks into song with the entire town joining in to sing the title tune with him—and none of them even bothered to rehearse—where it’s revealed, who it was that slept with his mother… Sally.
And it wasn’t who you thought it was either. Then, it was…THE END.
Wow! What a twist ending, huh?
BACK FLAP—Paul is a best selling author who is also a (delusional) successful writer of children’s books which include, “The Marshmallow Man Is A Hard-Hearted Fellow” and the now classic, “Grow-Up You Cry-Baby And Learn To Use Two Many Hyphens—Because Three Too Many Hyphens Makes No Sense At All!”