Word: closet
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...wait is over. Garrison Keillor, self-effacing fabulist, closet sociologist and "America's Tallest Radio Humorist," has written the history of "the little town that time forgot and that the decades cannot improve." His affectionate sketches provide a full granary of bemused narratives about favorite Wobegonians, including Father Emil, who blesses animals on the lawn of Our Lady of Perpetual Responsibility Church; the Statue of the Unknown Norwegian, which sprouts grass from an unusual place; and Angler Dr. Nute, a retired dentist who tells the sunfish, "Open wide . . . This may sting a little...
...took a close look at my bed and, noticing that the mess on the matteress held only one inebriated soul, she slowly scowled around the room for that evil being that had corrupted her invaluable son. Not finding anything in the room, she gathered enough courage to open the closet slowly, expecting to find the culprit. Disappointed only to find my laundry, she was resigned to believing that the evil corrupter had escaped her moral net. Of course, when she asked about the shoe, I only smiled. It's funny. My mom shares the same delusion I suffered. Besides...
...fears that a lot of kids have: of a society of the netherworld living under my bed, of monsters living in the closet waiting to suck me in and do terrible things to me. There was a crack in the wall by my bed that I stared at all the time, imagining little friendly people living in the crack. One day while I was staring at the crack, it suddenly opened about five inches, and little pieces fell out of it. That really happened. I was afraid of clouds, the wind, trees -- there was a forest outside my window...
...sublimate or channel these fears until I began telling stories to my younger sisters. This removed the fear from my soul and transferred it right into theirs. One story was about the old World War II % flier who had been rotting in our closet for 20 years. I took a plastic skull you buy in a model shop and put a flashlight inside so the eyes and face would glow; then I put my dad's World War II aviator cap over the skull and put goggles over the eyeholes. At night, I'd dare them to peek into...
...sing in the shower and warble along with their Walkman tapes. But aside from belting out the national anthem with the crowd in the bleachers or cutting loose with the congregation on Sunday, most have been too shy or too sober to sing in public. Now thousands of closet Sinatras and Madonnas are publicly vocalizing, thanks to a nifty electronic device from Japan called the karaoke...