Fucking Ben Tanzer has published another story. Or maybe another novella, a collection of short stories, or even a novel. Fuck. Burns stands, walks away from the computer. He paces. Fucking Ben Tanzer. Fucking Ben Tanzer publishes the way a bull moose in heat copulates, with a robotic persistence that’s more John Connor than Flannery O’ Connor.
So what is this one? Burns pours a glass of wine, puts a cigarette and the lighter in his pocket, walks onto the patio with the laptop. Fucking Ben Tanzer has published a new short story. Check that. Short story collection.
Burns doesn’t have to keep track, of course, because he is Facebook friends with Fucking Ben Tanzer, so fucking Ben Tanzer’s friends do a more than adequate job of keeping Burns informed. Hey, Fucking Ben Tanzer has a new novel! Fucking Ben Tanzer is doing a reading! An interview with Fucking Ben Tanzer!
Burns lights his cigarette. Fucking Ben Tanzer supposedly has a wife and children, a real job. How could he possibly find the time to write this much? How could it possibly all be that good? Burns pictures Fucking Ben Tanzer in tennis clothes, a sweater tied around his waist, taking leave from some cocktail party to shout instructions into his iPhone: "more witty pop culture banter! More surprisingly touching moments!" On the other end of the line, a handful of MFA graduates sit in a dim Williamsburg apartment, churning out witty, affecting short fiction about fathers and sons, men and women, about the real stuff of real fucking life.
Burns finishes his cigarette and goes back to the computer. He was on a fucking roll until Fucking Ben Tanzer ruined it. Burns works just as hard as anybody. Harder than Fucking Ben Tanzer. He sits in front of the computer again. Don’t open Facebook, he tells himself. Just write.
He stares at the screen. He wonders how many words -- maybe an entire story, maybe three, maybe a goddam novella -- Ben Tanzer has written in the past few hours.
Don’t open Facebook.
Focus, he tells himself. Write. What would Fucking Ben Tanzer do? Motherfucker! He is asking himself what Ben Tanzer would do? This is getting worse.
He opens Facebook.
"Goddamit," he shouts. "Unbelievable."
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fucking Matt Bell has published another story. Or maybe another novella, a collection of short stories, or even a novel…