contents
marty turco
blood red lips
chalk birds
where's my richard?
grave robbing
martyrdom
rejections
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The Man
who Killed Marty Turco by
Eitan Kensky
Marty Turco, Seventy-five-year-old Professor of Folklore, Media
Studies, and Paleoclimatology at the University of Texas, Dallas, had
never heard of the other Marty Turco. As far as Marty Turco was
concerned--or cared to know, for that matter--he was the only Marty Turco
in the lower 48 states. He had long ago met the cobbler Marty Turco who
lived in Hawaii, and the two had not gotten off on the right foot. In
fact, every time Marty Turco read about a sacrifice to a volcano made on a
Hawaiian island, or a severe case of athletes foot requiring amputation,
he secretly hoped that it was Marty Turco who lost life or limb.
Otherwise, Marty Turco lived a blissful Marty Turco free existence.
Then one day his Marty Turco bubble burst and he discovered that he
wasn't even the only Marty Turco in Dallas. And, to make matters worse,
the other Marty Turco was apparently something of a celebrity. Marty Turco
was beside himself when he found out. Momentarily racked with doubt about
his own notoriety, he ran to check his unread cartons of fan mail just to
make sure that they were indeed intended for him and not his other.
Thankfully, most of the letters concerned his article on "Count Chocula
and Red Baron Pizza: Vestiges of Imperialism in Late Capitalist America,"
and he was able to rest assured of his own peculiar fame.
Considering how long Marty Turco had gone without hearing of the other
Marty Turco, it seemed just as likely that he never would hear of his more
famous namesake than discover the coincidence. Thankfully for us, the
editors of the Dallas Morning News
made a mistake and confused the two Marty Turcos. It just so happened that
on the same day that Marty Turco gave a major speech against the War in
Iraq, Marty Turco recorded a shutout against Colorado. When editing the
paper, some brilliant copy editor switched the ones quotes for the other,
so that Marty Turco blamed the boondoggle in Iraq on "the great plays and
big hits" of his defensemen, and Marty Turco credited his shutout to
"rampant US imperialism" and "the thirst for oil." Marty Turco soon found
himself featured on Sportscenter for his bizarre comments, while Marty
Turco was acclaimed for his refreshingly clear academic prose.
After that, it seemed that Marty Turco found Marty Turco everywhere
he went. First there was the NHL Player of the Week Award that was
accidentally sent to the wrong home; then there was the article in
Folklore Today that was mis-attributed
to Marty Turco the hockey player. Compounding matters, it was the best
received article of Marty Turco's career. There were the occasional emails
Marty Turco received from pretty young coeds who had been seduced by the
handsome young scholar, and even the occasional misdirected payroll check,
placing Marty Turco in a stratospheric tax bracket, but the biggest
debacle by far was the Hitchcock Film Festival. Marty Turco was supposed
to give a lecture about "Shadow of a Doubt", but when the MC called to
present Marty Turco, Marty Turco felt that it was his duty as a celebrity
to oblige, and decided to stand up and come on stage. The two found
themselves on stage at the same time, shared awkward glances and half
smiles, and quietly nodded to each other, trying to retain their
composure. While Slovoj Žižek acclaimed the power of Marty Turco's
performative, Marty Turco was no post-modernist and spent the next
semester trying to live down his new found reputation as a cutting edge
scholar.
For months after that night, Marty Turco couldn't stop dreaming about
the other Marty Turco. In his dreams he was stopping pucks and winning
academic chairs all at the same time, returning Hollywood to its glory
days via the power of his pen and goalie pads. It was almost as if they
were becoming the same person. One Marty Turco in place of the two; a lone
entry in the Dallas White Pages. (In case you were wondering, the cobbler
Marty Turco was eventually sacrificed to a volcano after MSNBC decided to
run a report about missing persons in Hawaii, and pretty virgins stopped
visiting his island.)
He needed to talk to the other Marty Turco, he needed to know if he
felt the same way. He jumped in his car and drove to see Marty Turco at
the Arena. He gave security his ID, and though they didn't believe he was
Marty Turco, who were they to argue with the Texas DMV, and they showed
him to the dressing room. Inside he found Marty Turco's locker. There was
a photo inside with Marty Turco's--no, his--family inside . And there was
the equipment. He needed to feel what it was like to be Marty Turco and
decided to put on the pads, the Jersey, the skates and the mask. They were
a little big on him, but all and all he felt warm and safe. It was nice to
have "TURCO" emblazoned on his back for everyone to see.
All of a sudden a buzzer went off and people were yelling at him.
"Move it, Turks, we got a game to play!" and "Fuck you, Turkey, who's
gonna win tonight?" At first he was scared, but then he felt pride welling
inside him. It was time to play.
He skated onto the ice with the rest of his team. The coach told him,
"I thought you were home sick," but Marty Turco just shrugged and said,
"I'm ready to start." That was all the coach needed to know, and Marty
Turco got in goal.
Marty Turco got off to a hot start, making 6 saves on the first 6
shots, but eventually he lost sight of the puck and let in a goal. He
recovered for a time, but it all fell apart. His 75 year old heart started
to give way, and as the slapshot buried into his chest and he collapsed to
the ice, he thought, "I am Marty Turco," and fell into something like a
smile.
Eitan
Kensky
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