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At the age of twelve, Maxie Anderson wrote a letter to the president of Frito Lay. It read as follows:

April 20, 1946

RE: DisRespect

Sir Terrance Donahue,

In my hands I hold a bag of Doritos sold at 25¢ and I know, Sir, you yourself, Sir, sell them for 10¢. Sir, the people and their machines sell them for 25¢, Sir; they steal your money, Sir. I want you and me, Sir; we’ll sell them for 30¢ Sir, and make money.

Think about it.

You can contact me at (580) 279-3694

Respectfully,

Maxie Anderson

When Maxie Anderson was twenty-two, his father visited him on campus. Maxie Anderson was about to graduate from the University of North Dakota.

His father told him, “Maxie, you dominated military academy, and you dominated university.”

Maxie Anderson cried inside. His father never gave him praise. His father only pushed him harder. Maybe this time, Maxie Anderson felt, he’d be proud of him.

“But you still haven’t graduated from The School of Hard Knocks. And you never will.” Maxie Anderson’s father handed him the keys to a new car, “Your mother wanted me to give you this,” he told Maxie Anderson, “Now go kill yourself.”

A few weeks later, Maxie Anderson met Don Ida. They fell in love. They had the same manly interests: beer pong, backyard wrestling, and sexual conquests.

Their favorite game was Find the Commie Fag. After twenty or so Falstaffs they’d jump into Maxie Anderson’s ‘53 Chevrolet Bel Air. They’d speed around campus and search for thin students with long shaggy hair. When Don Ida would spot an adequate victim, Maxie Anderson would drive the car onto the sidewalk. The unsuspecting student would drop all his books and start running in fear. Six times out of ten, they’d catch the student. When they did, Don Ida would hold the student in a full nelson. Maxie Anderson would then cut the student’s hair, laughing.

Maxie Anderson would say, “What are you gonna do now, call Stalin? No more hair?” Maxie Anderson would spit into his palm, pasting the mess of hair onto the student’s face. “Lost your commie powers?”

Maxie Anderson would take out acrylic paint and write on the student’s face the letters: U.S.A.

Two years ago, Maxie Anderson and Don Ida made their first joint attempt at flying around the world. They ballooned from Maxie Anderon’s mansion in Luxor to Maxie Anderon’s mansion in Bombay.

Maxie Anderson told Don Ida, “When you’re made like me, Ida, you make sure you go out big.” Maxie Anderson’s passion, his voice, mesmerized Don Ida. “Ida dear, if you want to fuck little boys”—Don Ida’s groin pulsated as Maxie Anderson yelled—“I’ll take you around the world to fuck little boys!”

When Don Ida was in Canada he was interviewed by Joe Schlesinger.

Joe Schlesinger asked, “What is it about Ballooning that causes you to abandon your family. Don Ida, why do you prefer to balloon than spend time with your wife?”

Don Ida answered, “Ballooning is the manliest of all Man’s sports.” Don Ida filled his lungs with air, making sure he stood larger. “Hemingway’s hunting. Ali’s boxing. They’re nothing compared to the balloon.” Don Ida menaced with his smile, “The ballooner is above the crust.” Don Ida grasped Joe Schlesinger’s shoulder hard. “Where he deserves to be.” Joe Schlesinger felt weighed down by Don Ida.

“You,” Don Ida said, making sure Joe Schlesinger felt small, “You are nothing to me.”

Two months ago Maxie Anderson called Don Ida. Maxie Anderson cried, “I’m alone, Ida. I’m alone.” Don Ida heard the loud suffering of Maxie Anderson’s soul.

Maxie Anderson told him, “I’ll pay your way. Just come, come.”

Four days later, Don Ida walked up the steps to Maxie Anderson’s mansion in Miserey. It was the smallest of Maxie Anderson’s mansions that Don Ida had been to. Balloons wearing American flags created a circle around the property.

Don Ida went to the discos with Maxie Anderson. They’d drive to Paris. Maxie Anderson drank too much and vomited in public. When Maxie Anderson saw police he’d shout, “You fucking pigs!”

At the clubs Maxie Anderson spent his money with disregard and followed random men into the bathroom. When Maxie Anderon returned from the bathroom he’d rub his nose and clench his jaw. Sometimes Maxie Anderson disappeared and had unprotected sex.

“I heard you talking to Abruzzo.” Don Ida said one morning.

“He’s called me.” Maxie Anderson said, feeling nothing. “It means nothing.”

Ben Abruzzo and Maxie Anderson graduated from the same high school in Albuquerque. Maxie Anderson had told Ben Abruzzo he was bored with life. The airplanes were nothing to Maxie Anderson. Not even submarining moved Maxie Anderson. Ben Abruzzo invited Maxie Anderson to balloon with him.

In 1978 Maxie Anderson was part of Ben Abruzzo’s crew, when Ben Abruzzo became the first man to balloon nonstop across the Atlantic.

Maxie Anderson told Don Ida, “He’s a manipulating whore.”

Maxie Anderson hates Ben Abruzzo. Ben Abruzzo flew from Japan to California two years before. Ben Abruzzo held the distance record at six thousand miles.

Maxie Anderson and Ben Abruzzo had a falling out over who would pilot the first balloon to fly the complete eight thousand miles around the world. The previous seven ballooners to attempt the trip had all crashed to their deaths.

At John Lennon’s funeral Maxie Anderson told Don Ida, “Abruzzo killed him Ida.” Maxie Anderson vowed to defeat Ben Abruzzo’s record. “Abruzzo did.”

Don Ida told Maxie Anderson, “He only wants your money.”

“Ida can’t you see?!” Maxie Anderson shouted, “Abruzzo wants us to fail!”

Tonight is June 27, 1983. Maxie Anderson and Don Ida lay against the basket, looking out into the night from inside the Jules Verne. They are three thousand feet above the ground.

It is three, the fried chicken smells stale; the backgammon board has been tossed overboard. Plastic boxes of chocolate chip cookies are open, upside down, and empty.

Maxie Anderson and Don Ida are exhausted. The balloon is descending too fast for their altitude. Maxie Anderson looks into Don Ida’s eyes.

The balloon’s burner is erratic. They couldn’t stop during the rain. Maxie Anderson shouted loud, “We cannot let Abruzzo win!” as the balloon’s gondola swayed violently in the air. After the storm, the frame of the Jules Verne was left damaged.

Now their heads are becoming light. The bolts holding the basket are loosening.

Maxie Anderson says, “Up here, I can hear all the sounds of Earth—the people talking, the cars driving, the truckers fucking.” They’ve failed. Ben Abruzzo has won.

Don Ida leans over and puts his arms around Maxie Anderson, “Isn’t it romantic?”

They hold each other. “It is, Ida. It is.”

Bio: Andy Riverbed is the rejection letter writer for thieves jargon. He is founder of the #1! Nonprofit Cru: Sade for Christ with purpose to vote the Marquis de Sade as New Messiah Son of God Figure. Interested in donating time or money? Learn to live the good life!, join the Andy Riverbed! mailing list at andy.riverbed@yahoo.com or check out his solemn body and www.myspace.com/ylarivera.