Meet the Writers!!! Today’s profile: Frank Gurbleck
Frank Gurbleck joined The Umpteenth Times writing staff directly after serving a seven-year prison sentence for attempting to smuggle contraband into the country. Gurbleck, to this day, insists he did not know that monkeys were considered contraband, otherwise he never would’ve jammed three of them into his suitcase on his trip back from Africa.
Gurbleck also claims to be a graduate of Oxford University, where he supposedly studied journalism. Doubts about his attending the British university arose recently when someone asked him what it was like to spend four years in Merry Ol’ England. His response was something to the effect, “Oh, is that where Oxford is?”
Still, Gurbleck’s writing has been an asset to The Umpteenth Times and editor, Kevin Egan, insists that without Gurbleck’s “no bulls**t” attitude, the site would never have had the guts to cover the “meat and potato’ stories that keeps it at the forefront of the world of digital media.
Gurbleck is currently married to three different women in three different countries. His wife, Mimi, lives in Sweden and is unaware of his other companions (at least until she reads this!). His second wife, Betty, lives in Australia and is a sheep farmer. She knows about the other two spouses and says she couldn’t care less what Frank does when he’s not home, just as long as he performs his husband-ly duties when he does happen to show his face in Australia. His third wife, Carol, lives in New York City and is also married to two other women. She has encouraged Frank to gather his wives together in New York for a “friendly” meeting of sorts but Frank insists the other two wives would not be into whatever it is Carol is thinking.
During his prison sentence, Frank wrote a short story entitled, Who Would’ve Known?, which was published in the prison weekly newspaper, The Clink. The following is an excerpt from that story:
Who would’ve known? I sure wouldn’t have. I mean, really. If one was to stuff three live African monkeys in their suit case in order to give them a better life here in America, why would they ever think to themselves they were doing something wrong? They wouldn’t. That’s just human decency.
Anyway, that’s where this story begins. After being incarcerated, I’ve spent many lonely nights pacing the floors of this tiny cell I now call home. The howling, crying and squealing I hear at night keeps me in a constant state of panic. I don’t know which way is up and I feel as if I’m going stark raving mad. Damn those monkeys.
Luckily, I have my own cell. Some aren’t so. The weaker ones are pushed around, told what to do, and forced to perform ungodly acts that not even a sadist would ask of them. I carry a knife on me at all times. I hide it up my sleeve. Whenever one of the guards pats me down, I slip it in shoe as quickly as I can. They’ve yet to find it. If they do, that means thirty days in the hole. God knows what that’s like. I heard once you go in, your body may come out but your mind is gone forever. This is my punishment for acting so kindly to animals. Yes, this is my punishment.
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