.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

6/05/2007

Retiree Still Waiting for 15 Minutes of Fame

(Sylvania, OH) Phillip Obertacz has seen many things in his 84 years on this planet, but there is at least one item that has eluded him.

"I want my goddamn 15 minutes of fame," he told Toledo Tales reporters yesterday. "Every other Tom, Dick, and Paris got theirs. Where the hell is my 15 minutes? That's what I want to know. But you want to know something else? That cancer is a killer. My uncle Bobo had five operations. Didn't do a damn thing for him. If they tell you that you have cancer, pal, you might as well pack your bags. In fact, I've got mine packed already, although do you think somebody would help an old man with these suitcases? Nope."

Obertacz said that the closest he ever came to his 15 minutes of fame occurred in 1977.

"I was living in Queens, and my flat was a block away from where that crazy Son of Sam shooter killed some poor girl," he said, pouring hot water into a tea cup. "Had I been outside that night, I might have stopped that lunatic sonofabitch from killing her, and been a hero. I was still pretty quick on my feet back then, and knew my way around a gym, yes sir. Why, I once held the chin-ups record at PS 121, what they used to call the Throop School. 114 chin-ups, and not those bent arm deals, but real chin-ups. But did anyone from the Times ever call me? Nope."

Obertacz in a 1938 photo, back when fame was not an elusive, fickle vixen

Unfortunately, said Obertacz, his options for attaining fame are dwindling.

"I had a colostomy done back in 1996 because my bowels were not functioning without the use of strong laxatives. Turns out I had a tumor the size of a goddamn grapefruit," said the retired ironworker, sipping his tea. "So the clock's ticking here. When I lived in Brooklyn I was in a brownstone, in a room on the third floor, for $25 a week. Twenty-five dollars. Imagine that! These days you can't even get a cheap hooker for that kind of money, and then she gets all nervous and shrieking about the colostomy bag. Listen, Fame? Hurry your ass up - that's all I gotta say."

Labels: , , ,


Comments: Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link



<< Home
Copyright 2007, Toledo Tales ® . Unauthorized duplication prohibited, but feel free to link away. This is a satirical newspaper, and many of these stories are fictional. You have to guess which ones are faked. Toledo Tales ® uses invented names in its stories, except when public figures are being satirized, or when we post a real story. Any other use of real names is accidental and coincidental. Subcomandante Bob once got jiggy with your mom, and she does things in bed that would shock you, dude. The content of this website is the property of Toledo Tales ® and its authors, and may not be reprinted or retransmitted in whole or in part without the expressed written consent of the publisher. Toledo Tales ® is not designed for readers under 18 years of age. FAIR USE NOTICE: This site contains copyrighted material the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. We are making such material available in our efforts to advance understanding of environmental, political, human rights, economic, democracy, scientific, and social justice issues, sustainable development, environmental, community and worker health, democracy, public disclosure, corporate accountability, and social justice issues, mostly because hot college women are also interested in the same issues. Go figure. Anyways, we believe this constitutes a "fair use" of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material on this site is distributed without fee or payment of any kind to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes, except when you are using it to get laid. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for purposes of your own that go beyond 'fair use', you must obtain permission from the copyright owner.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?