American Contemporary Fiction

Jax Dobresnski

One evening I was sitting at “The New U,” a small neighborhood bar. On the stool next to me was Skip Rope Dobresnski. Our meeting I had arranged to appear coincidental, as Skip Rope was not only shy but feared that many of the dreams he’d had of tabloid bottom feeders would materialize, and mistake him for his brother. Since his brother Jax had been mentioned in “New is Different,” a small mostly overlooked book dedicated to the most popular names for newborns in the past year, he had been asked to have his picture taken with whomever didn’t want to disappoint an opportunity.

Skip Rope Dobresnski disliked the name that had attached itself to him in the third grade when he won the prize for the most innovated moves recorded while jumping rope while in a wheel chair. Jax suggested I call him Craps, so as not to pour salt in an old wound. It had been Jax who was blamed for Skip Ropes paralysis. The true story changed with the seasons and had become lost in the obscurity of time.

I had a purpose in mind, although if asked, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what it was exactly. I’ve always been attracted to the unusual; names, places, whatever took my interest to the next level of investigation.

When I am bored, or don’t have enough enthusiasm for life to justify remaining alive, I begin to roam the card catalogs of my mind for something or someone to examine. Most lives go unheralded and rightly so, but there are certain individuals who have managed to slip the attention they deserve. One such person was Craps Dobresnski. He believed himself to be only paint shade different from his brother, although in my opinion they looked nothing alike, and where Jax was gregarious, Craps was not. Where Jax was tall, thin, and had the complexion and color of a pumpkin, Craps was obese, was practically bald, and had the skin tone of a pool ball.

I had no idea if the events Jax excelled at, everything he attempted actually, he considered an individual achievement, or little more than having been blessed by the gods of reason and fortitude, with the physical and mental capability to excel at whatever endeavor he chose to participate in. Craps was the opposite despite his attempts at emulation.

During my perusal of the catalog of those who deserved recognition, but did not receive it, his name kept coming up. It wasn’t because of his unusual name Dobresnski, as Dobresnski was not an unusual or uncommon surname in my neighborhood, but it was the name given the town, and that half the town’s population shared.

No, it was Craps that brought attention to the gangly looking man with bristly orangish hair, skin that resembled rouge sandpaper, and eyes apparently no one could look into for fear of becoming blind; like those attempting to look at a solar eclipse with the naked eye; a Dobresnski, the last thing you would ever see.

The majority of those introduced to the name Craps for the first time, wince, others pretended to themselves they hadn’t heard correctly and change their interpretation to better serve their sensitivities. Paps, Maps, Snacks, Sacks, Hacks, were a few of the names substituted that met the criteria to avoid conflict with those dedicated to authenticity, no matter the discomfort generated by the clash between auditory receptors, and the area of the brain that interprets and transforms the stimuli into discretionary transference.

I, myself, was put off bubble by the name, but also his character, but was enthralled by the fact that if his feats were verifiable, despite his seeming lack of his command of either physical or mental attributes, he was deserving of having his achievements documented and verified, and be given the acclaim he deserved.

It was difficult at first to determine what his achievements were that caused his name to appear in varied and illogical places. Mad magazine, the swim suit issue of Sports Illustrated, Better Homes and Gardens Christmas issue dedicated to non-traditional structures, storage units, warehouses, to note a few, and the old woman in the shoe’s home in PTS Barnum’s flea circus.

If the name hadn’t been unusual in its own right I would have chalked it up to coincidence. But to find the name splashed across tabloids, medical journals, law reviews, and dozens of other publications made it appear as though he was either, the impetus for radical change, or the euphemism for words that were rarely used, and when they were, not in mixed company.

I, of course, having no reason to peruse the places that Jax name was associated with, I relied on his brother Craps for information pertaining to the uniqueness of Jax.

I had never met Jax. He had been one of the victims of the storm that dropped two feet of snow, and winds blowing in excess of sixty miles per hour. The temperature plummeted to an unheard of 42 degrees below zero Fahrenheit in less than half an hour. It was referred to as a “weather” bomb, which appeared to reserve little sympathy for the victims, of which there were few. Jax and Craps father was one of them.

Jax, although considered a victim didn’t die. The trauma of that day however, left him in a state where if you believed in Karma, you’d of been barking up the right tree.He hasn’t left the house since the tragedy and vowed to not leave until he was carried out, or was awarded the presidential medal for his contribution to helping folks of means get over their anxiety about a rumored revolution. Many of those in the know use the phrase, “remember the Romanovs,” having grown tired of clichés about the Alamo.

Jax lost his mother and four sisters who had insisted that tradition “must be kept, no matter the difficulties involved, or civilization as we know it would be lost.” And, so, they went shopping as it was Saturday, and as far back as anyone could remember, Saturday was “the day” to go shopping. One of their many Bibles claimed the tradition had begun in 1876, the First Founders Day according to Hal Mark, whose name is continued to be misspelled to this day. Hal Marks was the mayor of Little Gettysburg before the town was required to change its name. It is now Hobo Con, a tribute to those who survived the dust bowl and depression by “leaving when the goin was good.”

The Dobresnski’s were renowned in their small but prosperous town of Allen for their frugalness. Some called them “cheap bastards,” but most recognized the grace in Frugalism, some even believed it should be made an amendment to the Ten Commandments. Some wanted it put in the State’s Constitution. The Dobresnski’s cared little for what other people thought, and although flattered by the attention, they had vowed to remain atheists in honor of the Peoples Constitution, the one they had pledged their allegiance to.

There was much controversy surrounding keeping the land secular, and for good reason the Dobresnski’s believed. They weren’t going to abide by anyone telling them which God to pay homage to, when there were so many to choose from. They couldn’t make up their collective minds. One was of Baptist persuasion, one was an Episcopalian, and five were born again Catholics, and two refused to take a side claiming it violated their right to privacy. They included Grand Dad as Catholic, because it was the only religion that allowed him to be buried naked, which was his preference. He’d hated wearing clothes his entire life; claimed they were uncomfortable and if “God had wanted for people to be born with clothes, they would have been.” The dissenters claimed that using religious beliefs to further a cause should be unconstitutional, but were consistently outvoted at family meetings. It was the reason Jax and Craps managed to be the only survivors in the family, which they never tired of telling people about. “God works in mysterious ways,” and how they were saved because of their bout with the Chicken Pox.

So, on that day of infamy, Jax and Craps were at home playing poker. They knew about the storm; their mother could feel it in her bones. Jax and Craps both hated the cold more than they hated each other. So they devised a plan to use toenail polish that belonged to the two elder sisters to put red blotches on their skin after putting red hot wet towels on their faces. The pain they would admit was soul cleansing, but worth every itch and scream to avoid freezing to death. It was the freezing to death that started the whole Frugalism movement. Jax and Craps could see no reason they should be required to sell off part of the estate to have money to bury the family members who were so bent on tradition, they got what they deserved. “Why should we pay again?”

The town’s people said they had to be buried despite the frozen ground; record breaking, nearly 9 feet deep. No one volunteered to help, so Jax and Craps came up with an idea the town council came to endorse; they would keep them in the ice house until Spring, and then after the ground thawed, if it ever did, they’d dig the holes themselves and not continue to shame the town’s folk by asking for help they knew they weren’t going to get. Even though the Chicken Pox Jax and Craps claimed to have was fake, no excuses were presented for fear of being run out of town for tricking the family and making the town ashamed of themselves. Anyway, to save collective face, the town agreed to believe the two-person Chicken Pox epidemic occurred, if the boys would quit telling the story of how frugality saved them. By that they meant, according to those who know about such things, that they lived on granola bars and ice cream for over a year.

Frugalism was something inherent in all people of the time. They were used to being disappointed by crops, banks, railroad itineraries, neighbors, friends, and family. Their prayers weren’t being answered, and two of the most recent traveling ministers had absconded with the collection plate royalties. The town was becoming more skeptical of anyone offering good will or empathy. There were more examples of disappointment related to both that caused everyone of faith to reconsider who and what they were going to believe in. Frugalism asked for nothing, and promised nothing in return.

Those that believed in the separation of State and Church were considered “suckers” by the those who ran evangelical camps for lost souls, and were making a killing on the room and board, not to mention personalized sermons guaranteed to “resurrect your faith, should it be relaxing, or your money back.” The sermons were about those of the opposition. How damned they were for continuing to hang on to the old ways which favored empathy and the golden rule.

A parade was planned to endorse Frugalism and demand the loyalty the administration sought. Frugalism was proposed to be official religion of the country. There were the usual protests which were easily dismantled; one side having the enforcement power, tear gas and masked militia to implement laws that restricted gatherings which were considered to be two individuals or less, unless the vocal complaints were loud enough and the National Guard was forced to use deadly force; then one was sufficient.

The parade theme was to be money. A concept that had been endorsed previously under other administrations but failed to catch on because the opposition was allowed to contest regulations limiting the interpretation of the Constitution. Those who interpreted the law were those who found that by cooperating with the new social movement they could solidify their position for life, and chose to do so. Politics had become the new orange. Nobody could remember what color it had been previously, and didn’t care.

There was no incentive for those opposed to Frugalism to take a chance on objecting to any of its provisions and therefore found it safer to sit quietly and let skepticism take its course.

Facts had been manipulated for several generations. The beliefs of many were no longer beliefs, but statements of identity founded on the words of the profits which were paid for by those who had the most to gain financially. The general trend in the country had gone from trusting facts and truth, to being distrustful of fact, and therefore eliminating the need for truth.“ Freedom comes to those who wait,” echoed throughout the Justice Department.

A new metaphor for truth no longer incorporated hard work, white picket fences, love of country and patriotism, but the philosophy of what was being called “The Age of the Penguin.” It consisted of riding the coattails of the wealthy, transforming a dream into reality by trusting those who had gained monetary freedom, to be who they wanted to be. To become wealthy all anyone had to do was do what they were told and believe. “The coins will fall from the sky and land in your bank account.”

Systems that once provided a modicum of security for people, concerning health, personal welfare, and safety, were determined to be detrimental to individualism, both personally and socially. If you were not strong enough to fend for yourself without the aid of others, you weren’t the kind of person Frugalism was designed to incorporate into their family.

Those that claimed the survival of the fittest should not pertain to societies, as it destroyed the capitalistic tendencies of those who were the precursor of a new future where you were responsible for your own welfare, and no one else’s.

Institutions that supported the old way of thinking were dismantled in order to make room for the individualistic tendencies of those who wished to flourish because of their own initiative. “Neighbors Be Damned” became the new motto. Christian Country began to be the only music suitable for Christian listening. Songs about drinking and driving were replaced by songs about deception, home imprisonment and pardons.

The subtlety of the Frugalism movement was not evident until the roads to success, which had been promised, disappeared; by then it was too late for regret or the possibility of returning to a system that was inclusive of all, as all who contributed to the success of their society the old-fashioned way lost their citizenship, and were deported to their ancestral place of origin. Brittan doubled its population the first year, Holland had to find alternative places for the refuges to go as their land was visibly sinking from the added weight of all the new comers, or so it was claimed.

The parade to engineer compliance with Frugalism was a failure according to many. The standard of living had decreased as cost and availability of food and housing decreased. Capitalism had changed from “the nation of opportunity,” to one of compliance if you were to have any chance to survive in the manner of comfort you once took for granted.

Networks had gone from dozens to two. Hospitals closed in rural areas, and safety once mandated by law was replaced by suggestions on how to keep yourself safe. “You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone” became the new unspoken regret of society, and Jax was the one person who they made king, as it seemed the logical response, as he was the only one promising that he, and he alone, could make life better for everyone. He had a plan.

Craps, who actually formulated the chicken pox escapade that saved his and Jax life, was imprisoned for contesting Jax authority to be credited for redefining individualism, and ordaining the Frugalism philosophy that allowed everyone to be and do what they wished, as the consequences of all loyalty acts to further the cause of Frugalism had been preemptively pardoned. No one was legally responsible for anyone but themselves.

“Mine Camph” was released. It was Jax way of allowing the people to see how great they could be if only they would band together to contest the notion of brotherly love and empathy, as it did little to enhance the objective of capitalism which promised not only a chicken in every pot, but that any one black listed would be removed, as they were deemed the reason for personal failure in obtaining the coveted Tuxedo Award necessary to attend the Money Ball on the paved over White House reflection pool.

Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Ozz were just two of the books that had been banned as being “detrimental to the Frugalist system,” as they promoted cooperation and understanding. “Let them eat spinach” became the cry of those being challenged by the underground movement to reintroduce empathy and compassion into societies around the world.

The story became more unclear as Crap finished his 6th beer. He claimed he felt no animosity toward those who refused to see his vision of prosperity and success for all. He had been pardoned before he retired, claiming family values were more important than all the fuss about separating families to better care for their individual needs.

Frugalism remains prevalent in many of the areas where education, inclusiveness, and a doctrine of fairness has not been restored, as their constituents continue to hold onto the notion that Tuxedos were and should be the fashion that replaces all individual choice, as it tends to cause jealousy. As it is, Frugalism is the only true symbol of supremacy in a world that has abandoned sustainability in favor of the lottery.

The newly elected Pope remains skeptical, according to those in the know.

Posted Jul 10, 2025
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