Sometimes you just need a Giant Fucking Skeleton

An Essay

Now and then, I like to give a new voice a chance to take over my Substack: meet Tim Grantley. - Paul

I’ll be honest: my life wasn’t going so great. Since my divorce, I’ve been wrestling with a lot of big feelings, which might surprise some people (namely my Ex, Melissa) who said I don’t have “access to my emotions.*”

Lately, I’ve been feeling like no matter what I do, it isn’t “good enough.” When I look around, I see everyone else living high on the hog, sipping a bit of the “good life,” but then there’s me, Tim, a barback at a place called Life, and the tips suck.**

So when Evan, my next-door neighbor, pulled up in his brand new Kia K5, I about lost my damn mind!

“Where the hell does he get the money to buy a new car?!

I guess Dominoes must be having a banner year if they can give raises to every member of the IT department!

So what am I supposed to do? How can I show everyone that their old pal Tim has it going on, too? Then it hit me.

I’m buying one of those Giant Fucking Skeletons. You know those 12ft ones from Home Depot? YEAH! Then everyone will see. I’m a fun guy, AND I got a bit of change in my pocket, too.

I have to admit, it was much harder to put up than I initially anticipated. It was definitely a two-person job, but who was I going to ask, Evan? Umm, no!

But after a few hours, a couple of sandbags. There, she stood to pass judgment on the neighborhood. I named her DENISE.

Oh, what? Are you surprised?

Women can be skeletons, too! It’s like that riddle about the Doctor***. Moms can be doctors, too. (Note to Melissa: I know about Feminism. Not to self mention this on the dating apps)

So now I’m feeling pretty good about everything. Cars honk and give me a wave. Kids smile when they walk by with their parents. I’ve even taken to sitting out on my porch for most of the day and into the night while I sip some of this new weed soda; the kids are drinking and greeting passers-by and making sure to correct everyone who misgenders my skeleton. People can be so naive.

Even Evan was impressed. He said something like, “Oh wow! That’s a big one”

Uh yeah, Evan, I guess you aren’t familiar with “Big Ones!” (HAHA)

I even went out on a date. It was with my accountant. She said she wanted to meet for lunch, so I played it cool; I knew what she wanted. As we went over our taxes. She said I could write off this lunch as a “business lunch,” and I asked if I could do the same with a vacation. “Maybe we can do my taxes in Hawaii next year?” She laughed. She gets it.

So when I get home after, imagine my surprise when I see a GIANT FUCKING SKELETON on Evan’s Lawn!

MOTHERFUCK!

He stole my idea. I bet he probably thinks his skeleton is a dude, too. But when I went to check on his skeleton’s sexual identity, I saw it wasn’t just a regular skeleton.

His skeleton is holding up a sign for HARRIS-WALZ, and I guess he made some sort of makeshift sticker out of construction paper that sat on his skeleton’s chest bone and read, “I VOTED.”

Why didn’t I think of that? Now, all these people are slowing their cars down and honking. People are lining up to take pictures of his skeleton. Meanwhile, no one even acknowledges Denise anymore.

I told people they could take pictures with Denise if the line were too long at Evan’s, but they didn’t seem to care. Even when I told them, she was a female skeleton.

So, I needed to do something to reclaim my right spot in the neighborhood.

So I got another GIANT FUCKING SKELETON!

Now I have TWO GIANT FUCKING SKELETONS, and poor Evan only has one.

My Skeleton would also be a Harris-Walz supporter, but unfortunately, the wait on Harris-Walz Lawn Signs is like 8 weeks. FUCK

I had to think quickly, So I positioned Denise and Sheila to look in Evan’s yard and point, signaling to everyone, “I’m with him!”

That way, people would want a picture, knowing my girls are just as cool as his skeleton. I went to bed happy. 2 are better than one, and I bet everyone will love my supportive skeletons more than Evan’s pandering one.

But as I went to leave the house the following day. I saw a crowd of people on my lawn. See, I knew it would work. But as I looked closer, they were MAD!

They were trying to rip my skeleton out of the ground. “NO!” I cried. What was making them so angry?

I guess I am struggling with the hands to make my skeleton point. I didn’t “Lock the wrist,” and through the night, the fingers slipped. So it appeared like my skeletons were flipping off Evan’s.

The neighborhood was outraged. I tried to explain, but they wouldn’t listen to reason. As they rocked Denise back and forth, she hit Sheila, and Sheila flew out of the ground and came crashing down on Evan’s brand new KIA K5, just wrecking the shit out of it.

I couldn’t help but laugh. I hope his car has skeleton insurance.

Sometimes you just need to get a GIANT FUCKING SKELETON.

* Whatever that means.

** Might be good for a T-Shirt

***A father and son have a car accident and are both badly hurt. They are both taken to separate hospitals. When the boy is taken in for an operation, the surgeon (doctor) says, 'I can not do the surgery because this is my son'. How is this possible?

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