Need your hold items

Client called and reported that he is going to be living in a trash can and eating large quantities of reconstituted soybean extract for the foreseeable future.  I told him we depend on his fencing skills and still we give him only hogs and applesauce with which to survive and thrive.  I then proceeded to put on a cheap brown suit and stupid hat and waxed poetic about the president and the problems in Kosovo, so stringent are my political ties it was difficult for me to haul my behind out of bed this mornin' but I did so that I could eat a big helpin' of ma's pork and beans. 

In my Americanmobile we’ll drive away.

Worry not, everything is okay

Those were the first two lines to a song I wrote while I was a sophomore in my high school.  I never forgot them as they were to be one half of the infectious chorus on what was sure to be a crossover pop rock smash in the vein of Hootie and the Blowfish or Dave Matthews Band.  I believe I wrote those lyrics whilst in physics class. A fellow student had erotic fantasies about the physics teacher but I never shared his desires.  Mostly I just thought about baseball at that age.  Ever since I was a child all I’ve ever really wanted to do is play major league baseball. 

B.C. has never been one of my favorite comic strips. Something about the artwork prevents my conversion into a hardcore borderline schizophrenic fan.  Yet what am I to make about B.C.’s recent comments to the press?  That is a truly a pickle wrapped inside the belly of a conundrum.  On the one hairy hand I must completely concur with his statements and yet I cannot deny how they incite me to anger.  I love the word cholesterol.  Sometimes I spend hours sitting on an old wooden stool doing nothing but repeating this word.  Sometimes I even say it with an elegant British accent to please all my European fans out there.  I love Eurotrash villains in movies.  I also love European dance music, real electronic shit.  I’m talking about the dizzying, amazing stuff that was most popular at the turn of the century.  When I look back upon my time in Spain at the millennium it is the dance clubs and the sheer sugar rush of that music which I most remember.  Of course, I also recall walking home at 3:45 in the AM and being savagely mugged and left to die in an alley.  All I could think about was the loaf of bread I’d left baking back in my home in the States.  I vowed that were I to survive I would eat half that loaf with real butter and the other half with boysenberry jam.  I survived but I inevitably broke that promise to myself as I break all my promises. 

People tell me I look like I’ve been working out lately and I tell them it’s all in the jeans.  The jeans and the extensive Muay Thai training I’ve been receiving down at Smitty’s Gym.  Martial arts have always been passion.

Did you once tell me there would never be any other?  Was that before or after I drew purple swans on a dry erase board. Ah, but the dark truth of the matter is that I did not draw those swans at all.  It was actually a secret double agent of the Soviet government who was/is hellbent on learning all the secrets locked away in the dusty corridors of the inner hallways of the gregarious mansion residing on the dangerous and dark street located in the aristocratic neighborhood in the snooty suburb of the sprawling metropolitan city of the future in the corrupt and northwestern county of the fiscally hemorrhaging red state of the glorious and cantankerous country located in the ancient and nigh otherworldly continent positioned between two supremely wet and glistening oceans that fill up a substantial percentage of the dying planet in the far off solar system of my brain.  They forced lumpy oatmeal down my throat but I never said a word.  I refused to squeal.  I’m too loyal to Blue Glyph Motors, the highly successful engineering enterprise I coincidentally founded while a sophomore in high school. 

I think I have just discovered a strange and wonderful new thing: nylons and oatmeal. Hosiery and oatmeal.  Right now at this current juncture in my life I can think of nothing greater.  Nylons and oatmeal.  Just those two words together provide such joy and splendor.  I must explore.  Scissors too.  Please wear the turquoise heels. 

I didn’t take the drug but I’m still feeling the side effects.  Its one of the many consequences of being a sensitive man like yours falsely.  Do you remember all those times I was wrongly accused of murder?  How about that time Jack raped Jill and they tried to pin it on Peter?  I swore then I would never fall victim to their dogmatic persecutions.  Why did you decide to film my death scene on vinyl record?  You should have known your desires with that technological format would simply not be compatible.  I tried to warn you but you always think you’re so damn smart.  You’re smarter than me, that’s for sure.  I bow to you superior wisdom.  If I were you I would never wish to be me even if a sorcerer offered me 6 delicious pink cupcakes if I allowed him to perform the spell that would switch us places.  I see you running up a hill right now. 

You lost all your hair in Vaseline related accidents. Then you lost all your care in trampoline related abstinence.  I was there and watched it all from a birdlike perch.    

I don’t want to listen to the message.  I am so afraid.  Please be okay.  Let it all not drown. I was not born for this.  What has happened to everything?  Why is everything nothing and my words are like fine toothed combs and your face is like a snowman melting all over the bodies of murdered milkmen. 

Languages escape from the knees and elbows of a thousand athletic men.  You never ventured to the lands we once called foam.  I’ll bathe in liquid paper only when the world decides to return my phone calls.  Who are you to judge that which you know everything about?  Please donate 57 million dollars and in return I will give you vulcanized rubber.  Let’s pave the streets with the physical manifestation of our collective failures!  Texas Instruments may indeed make the best calculators but they’re still second to the giant Wheel of Death inside my brain!

I can’t escape from what I’ve done.  I cannot believe any of this.  There is too much Ritz crackers in the world for any of my lies to actually be truth.  I have lived too long inside the belly of a whale.  You’re going to have to perform some type of half ass autopsy on a fish.  Did you ever think it would come to this?  We fly even though there is no one standing beneath us to shine blinding light into our eyes.  I will have my vengeance hahahahahahahahahah!

I should have taken the chocolate