Prognosis Partiality

'There was a segment of ear phones there' he said to me. 

And I replied 'oh okay' and walked away as fast as I possibly could. 

I did NOT want to hear more about that. Seems like these days when people find segments of things they then don't want to shut the fuck up about them. On and on and on they go. NO ONE CARES. It's just a segment of something. 

We've all been there:

'Hey, I found part of a car, let me bore you with tales of it for six hours' they'll say. 

'Yo, I discovered a bit of a t-shirt in my underwear draw, and I'll now succumb you to a coma by sharing some source theories' they'll go.

'Oh I found a segment of that missing

seven million dollars from the bank in my wife's handbag, and when I confronted her on it she admitted that she'd been responsible for the crime, and also seven murders, twelve convenience store heists, and had once stolen an entire freight train which she had buried in our back yard but when I tried to to dig it up all I found was a full sized dead alien that was still eighty percent inside its spaceship that was made from laughter, happiness, opportunity, and fairness in such massive qualities that endless worldwide elation could be produced by merely sneezing on it, and I was hoping to borrow some pepper to help make it happen' they'll begin. 

Shut the fuck up! Talk to me

when you've found the ENTIRE of something you dick. I DON'T want to hear another fucking segment story. Some people. My god. So fucking boring. 

Oh on another note, I've lost a segment from my ear phones, if anyone finds them please tell me, it's so fucking annoying having to buy WHOLE new ones, when all you need is a segment. 

Star upon a dream

His mommy had told him to 'dream big'. And his daddy had told him to 'chase his dreams as hard as he could'. And luckily Harold DID have a dream, and he dreamed about it as often as he could, and he was going to chase it as HARD as he could. 

Fortunately for him all Harold dreamed of was to jump over a puddle one day. 

Unfortunately for him there were a few slight problems with this dream, including: 

- It hadn't rained where Harold lived in like forever. 

- He didn't own any gumboots. 

- Even if he did, gumboots would be hard to jump in. 

- And he didn't own any better jumping shoes. 

- And he couldn't jump at all without shoes on. 

- And he didn't know where he could get shoes.

- And even if he did he didn't know how to put on shoes. 

- Also he didn't have any toes, so no shoes would really work out for him.

- Especially seeing as he had no feet.

- Also he didn't have any legs.

- Which meant that even if he attained toes or feet he'd have nowhere to put them.

- And even if he found somewhere to put them it would probably be really expensive to put them there. 

- And putting them there would be nowhere near as good as having them attached there.

- And having things attached is often even more expensive than having things put. 

- Which is bullshit because finding a good put guy can be just as hard as finding a good attach guy. 

- And in these economically downturned times who has the time to put into spending money on finding people? 

- Especially to put into finding an inadequate put guy. 

- As it was Harold ALREADY had significantly limited time to spend on leisure time. 

- Because he didn't even know what the word 'leisure' meant. 

- So why isolate time for it.

- And even if he did he isolate time for it, he didn't own any leisure clothes to leisure in. 

- And even if he did he attain some leisure clothes, he didn't know what leisure clothes were, so he wouldn't be able to grab them. 

- Let alone know how to put them on. 

- And even if he did know what they were, and how to put them on, what would be the point of wearing leisure clothes if he didn't have any shoes.

- Or knowledge of what to do with shoes.

- And he DIDN'T even have toes.

- Or feet.

- Or legs. 

- Also it was a stupid, stupid, stupid dream. 

- As he was around water ALL the time anyway, the stupid idiot. 

- So why not dream about some completely dry spot?

- What a moron.

- It's almost like that tiny brain of his barely even worked. 

- And his brain WAS tiny.

- Because he was a fish

- And it was hard being a fish.

- Because when your a fish if you dream of somewhere dry people call you a moron.  

- Plus he didn't know yet that his girlfriend, the pretty star, was secretly planning to eat him. 

- Also he thought he was dating a completely different species which was cool.

- But he didn't know the star was a starfish. 

- Which is just another kind of fish. 

- At least in name.

- And what sort of stupid fish wants to date a stupid fish? 

- Plus he didn't even know he was a fish. 

- And even if he did know that he was a fish he probably wouldn't like it.

- Because he'd probably soon find out that he did in fact have a gumboot.

- In fact he lived in a sunken one.

- And who wants to find out that they've been telling people that they don't even know what gumboots are when it turns out they live in one? 

But on a nicer note he liked the taste of his own poop. 

Awww.

Happy endings sure are nice. 

Burrowing In the Apple

Jerry, the bookworm, was in a bookstore looking for a book on the topic of  - Things that you cannot find on your typical train – Things like:

-       Elephants talking to small illiterate dogs.

-       People who respect their fellow humans right to be humans that follow fashionable friendship protocol to forget highfaluting fantasies involving regular acceptable human emotions as filtered through an unstoppable need to at least twice a day scream “skyscraper” at several two to four story buildings that have clearly failed to live up to their potential floor number capabilities.

-       Clean floors.

But this particular bookstore only had books on - Things that you can always find on your typical atypical train – Things like:

-       Sandwich faced hat-making ghosts.

-       Floating self aware machines that can’t tell the difference between hope and harpooned scarecrows, but that are flawless at telling the difference between sand-papered scalps and sand-blasted bubbles of knowledge generated by unscrupulous tactics in carnation growing farming.

-       Dirty floors.

With the type of book he was looking for grossly unrepresented Jerry decided to not purchase anything on this trip to the bookstore.

Patrice, the bookstore owner, was saddened by this lack of purchase. Partly because she really needed the sale, or else the bookstore risked bankruptcy, and because she had ordered that book in specifically thinking it was right up Jerry’s alley, especially seeing as he had previously purchased books on – Things you can sometimes find on some trains but not other trains depending on when you’re on the train – and even weird books like – Things on boats.

In frustration she decided to write her own book on – Things that she wished she could find on your regular every day typical train – Things like:

-       Magazines that are no longer published covering topics of gross misinformation regarding what it should take to uncover the meaning behind greasy clouds giving speeches on the lack of opportunities they’re given to shine in social settings versus the regular hate mechanics which percolate beneath the surface of giant clocks which can’t fit on your average train leading to unlikely collusion with purple dyed silk dresses, due to their mutual friendship with the thought making miscreants of the overlord controlled underclasses.

-       Tennis players with no hands, or feet, and with personalities peppered with influence caused by their life long highlights being inconsequential meetings with high class leading religious leader’s hand maiden turncoats conspiracies

-       Floors that were recently cleaned but subsequently had a bit of dirt get on them.

Jerry bought a copy, and the bookstore was saved!

The end.

Ps. Yay, isn’t a happy ending nice sometimes?

Pps: And they also ended up getting together romantically.

Ppps: Awwww, isn’t a SUPER happy ending nice sometimes?

Pppps: Then the elephant sat on the illiterate dog.

Ppppps: God damn it!

Ten - Piercing Insight

I'm a very perceptive guy. 

Like when I find a severed foot on a golf course I can usually tell within three or four minutes if it came off me.

I don't need to put salt on my fries because I'm smart enough to boil them in sea water. 

If I have erectile dysfunction I just dip it in it hard drying hair gel.

I can solve any math problem merely by adding in the element of a ghost monkey and then declaring the whole thing implausible. 

I always cook blind folded so that EVERY ingredient is a secret sauce, I'm so good that I can even make something a simple as finely sliced carrots taste like a really, really bloody steak. 

I've never had my house robbed because I've put so many locks on it even I can't get inside anymore. 

Whenever I'm riding my bike I make SURE to crash into a wall because I believe that if you don't help your helmet to fulfill its destiny, then why would it ever help you fulfill yours? 

When it's raining I don't need to use an umbrella because I just pretend I'm swimming and that I'm very, very bad at it. 

I'll never be the victim of an unsolved murder because I have a clause in my will that says 'if I was murdered just look for the dick!'

I've managed to go my entire life without spending a cent on dishcloths saving truckloads, anytime I need to do the dishes I merely stay a night in a fancy hotel, pack all my dishes, and wash them in the bathroom sink using a face cloth. 

I once pretended I didn't know what 'horticulture' was for an entire day without a single person calling me out on it.

So yep, clearly I'm a perceptive guy, I'm a VERY perceptive guy, and as I looked at the waiter now my perceptions were telling me that if I was being perceptive right now there'd be a benefit to perceiving everything perceptible in this situation, unfortunately I couldn't concentrate on my perceptions right now, because the waiter was distracting me by yelling at me. That dick. 

'You're a hero!' He was yelling 'your six beautifully timed kicks to my kneecap has fixed my decades long kneecap displacement, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I can walk without pain again! I'll be able to play with my kids again! I can finally visit my mother who is bed ridden on the third floor of a hospital, I thought I wouldn't get to see her ever again, it was the hardest most heart breaking thing of my life! But I can walk again, I can WALK again! This is real, my life can matter again, my life has changed, because of you!! This man, EVERYONE applaud this man. I can never repay you. But here, here's my car keys, have my car, I'm WALKING home tonight!' He was yelling.

I mean what a dick, who just yells like that, plus 'this man' I have a name dick. And does this car come with my insurance, and a parking spot? Where am I supposed to put it? Plus it was SEVEN kicks, was he ignoring the hot sauce? Because I sure as hell wasn't. Plus I wasn't trying to fix him, I was trying just getting through the wait for my food the same way everyone does. Worst of all though his noise was completely blocking out my perception skills, and so I instead was forced to rely on my wits. 

Fortunately my wits were flying, and I used them to know EXACTLY what the waiter was trying to say with his speech, he was trying to say 'I'm hard to get a read on'. And I knew exactly WHY he was saying what he was saying, to say to me 'seriously, I'm hard to read'. And after some serious pondering I knew EXACTLY what this meant for me - that this man was going to be hard to read. 

I had a number of options of what I could do next. 

- Pretend I still had access to my skills of perception but then use my flying wits to get through this. 

- Pretend I couldn't see or hear him, and give focus on the many important things that were already important to me, like making sure Kev didn't notice that I didn't find what I promised would be in the cloakroom, making sure the whole restaurant didn't think I was an idiot for indicating that I thought you could eat the menu itself, and getting retribution against the waiter, all of which needed me to do something BIG and do it NOW! 

- Pretend I was a BIGGER man than him and pretend to accept his apology. 

- Pretend I was a ghost monkey. 

Obviously this was a BIG decision, and  when it's OBVIOUS that the decision you have to make is BIG, then there is only one time you can make it, NOW! 

To be answered*

*well obviously there was an obvious choice, and seeing as this was obviously BIG, I CHOSE the obvious choice, and pretended to be a ghost monkey, but THEN what happened is still to come* 

*Which is another way of saying 'to be continued*

*I hope I haven't used that one yet. 

Nine - Accidental Fingering Not On

I took off the elephant tusks I was wearing as shoes, then I took off the stop sign that I was wearing as elephant tusks, then I took off the shoes I was wearing as a stop sign, and put the stop sign where the shoes had been, the elephant tusks where the stop sign had been, and the shoes where the elephant tusks had been, and then I realized I was wearing something in the place EVERYONE wears it, the stop sign, which was lame, and something I would NEVER stand for, so I flipped the tusks and the sign, took a quick look in the mirror, and then ran and booted the waiter hard in the kneecaps.

Now I counted how many condiments were on my table, and counted how many condiments were on the adjacent table and then went and booted the waiter in the kneecap six times for the six condiments I was shy. I mean he knew that just moments before I'd kicked them all off to make more space to briefly rest my elephant tusks, but he hadn't replaced them! What dick. 

Next I replaced all the tampons in the vending machine in the ladies bathroom with messages from the crips. (See how easy replacing things is!)

Then I purposely falsely fingered a fellow diner for fingering food in the salad bar, demanded free finger food as compensation, and then laughed in his foolish face while I ate it with my feet while screaming 'NO ONE tells me what is and what is not finger food, you dicks!!!'

Then I started a new fashion trend, which was easy, I just saw a guy across the room who'd replaced his teeth with chop-sticks, which made them WAY easier to use, and I did that, so starting that trend. 

After this I cursed myself for throwing out all the tampons, I had a lot of blood coming out of my face and without tampons the only thing I had to wipe it on was the table cloth of the family at the adjacent table, when they complained I yelled 'obviously I threw all my tampons out you dicks' and that made them smile and giggle almost as if they were nervous, I guess some people find happiness hard to take with its fleeting nature and all, but I was happy I'd made them happy, sometimes just telling people the truth makes people happy. I vowed to remember that, but instead remembered to buy super glue for the next time I replaced my teeth with chop-sticks, which was foolish because by the time I'd make it to the hardware store I was sure I'd have switched to sticking hamster skeletons in there, that's just how fashion works. 

Next I approached someone with a fork stuck in their leg and yelled 'well this ones done, huh huh? Get it? Cause like the saying "stick a fork in him, he's done"' Unfortunately stupid Kev hadn't followed my earlier instructions, so I had to instead jam a fork into a stranger to make it work, but I still got my desired and expected outcome, I discovered that not a single person in the restaurant had a sense of humor, seriously not one laugh. People sure are sad these days. Must be the fleeting nature of happiness again. If people want to focus on something fleeting I don't know why people don't instead focus on the fleeting nature of steam? Steam is fleeting, but it's also FLAWLESSLY good! It's literally impossible to come up with a bad use for steam.

Next I began to viciously scold a pretend infant under my table, yelling stuff like 'I told you in the car if you hide under the table you won't get to eat', and 'that'll be six days in a row with zero food if you don't come out' and 'emancipation does not go with all your burns!' and 'don't make me steam you again', and other fun things, and then when a fellow diner came to 'check on her' and looked under the table I'd accuse him of kidnapping her. 

It was only when I finished the last of this list of things that I assume we all always do in a restaurant immediately after ordering our food to make the wait less tedious, I mean they make it so tedious, right? If they're not going to provide entertainment then we'll do it. But that's when a memory hit me, and it hit me NOW, and it hit me BIG!

I remembered what I was supposed to be doing, getting BIG retribution from the waiter for having a dig at me, and it had to happen NOW, and the retribution had to be BIG, and I'd already kicked him in the kneecaps, so that couldn't be it, that's just one of our regular things I do, I needed a new plan, and I had to think of it NOW, and it had to be BIG. 

I looked up at him, trying to spot a weakness,  and what I saw changed everything, and also changed this specific thing, and this specific thing is definitely part of everything, and it changed it BIG and the repercussions were going to affect me NOW! 

To be followed with more*

*Followed like how idiots follow fashion, even though it's just as easy to start all new trends yourself, idiots. Here's some fashion tips for you from me, so YOU don't end up looking like an idiot - walrus tusks make great elephant tusk alternatives, and are often easier to pull off said animals head (for some reason elephants don't like you tugging on them till them come out, so selfish). No Parking signs make awful stop sign alternatives (why would anyone have been thinking of parking on your head?). And pretty much anything but shoes make great shoes, one time I tried saber tooth tiger tusks I stole from the museum as shoes. You'd never guess how excited people were, all sorts of authority figures chased me just to see them in action, it was very exciting!

Hop to it

I like to think that if I was ever trying to wear-in stiff new shoes by hopping on my bad leg on the roof of a merry-go-round that was on top of the spire that was on top of a mega-sized skyscraper that was on top of an increasingly straining beach ball that was on top of a recently sharpened tooth pick that was balancing on twelve perfectly stacked grains of sand that were held in place by the collective optimism for the future of earth by all mankind that was fueled by what most people think when they discover the elevators are broken, that whoever was in charge of building this contraption remembered to wear his or her safety helmet, I fucking hate risk takers. Oh plus who sharpened a toothpick? Gums could be stabbed open with the side flat side of a postage stamp. Some people really are weird. 

Breaking News: The term 'itsy bitsy' banned at the water spout

The cheers heard around the world's most famous water spout today have now echoed through the chambers of progress after, in a coup for differently sized spiders, officials officially banned the term 'itsy bitsy' near their spout with an official (yet scary to many in attendance) whack of a gavel. 

The head of the committee in charge of the campaign to ban the term, Rodger, a Goliath Bird-Eating Tarantula, was quoted as saying 'suck on that you stupid little spiders, I'm sick of being shamed because I'm not as svelte as you. It's not fair. It's not at all fair. Why is everyone so obsessed with size? Judgmental assholes. I shouldn't have to be treated differently just because I'm different! But we beat the dicks, and this was a quick campaign with swift success, which is good, hard work is not my forte, and besides I'm getting a shipment of just hatched raven babies delivered from my butcher tonight and I plan on serving them raw with a sauce of puréed praying mantis larvae, and stuffing my face with that till I can't walk for a week. Hopefully I can find a nice ladies favorite pair of shoes to sleep it off in'.

When reached for comment the world's most famous itsy bitsy spider, itsy bitsy himself was understandably distraught, crying into the phone 'being itsy bitsy and climbing that water spout has been the focus of my life for decades, what am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do? I don't know who I am anymore? I don't even remember my real name. Was it Steve? Oh fuck please don't let it have been Steve, Daddy Long Steve already has a stronghold on the world of famous spiders named Steve. I can't rebrand now. I just had seven thousand new t-shirts printed for my next tour. This will ruin me, RUIN ME????'

Then the phone call ended abruptly with a loud bang. We're pretty sure he didn't shoot himself, the little guy was way to small and weak to use a gun. He probably just got whacked with a shoe. We probably shouldn't have organized for him to take our call at that 'Clowns with Arachnophobia' benefit, but we also needed to get a quote from Bonkos  on the recent changes in clown law making it illegal for children to laugh 'at' clowns, with only 'with' laughter tolerated now, which lead to the recent mass execution of most attendees at Suzie's fourth birthday party, and we didn't want to fork out for two phone calls. 

A list of alternative ways to describe spiders of different sizes wishing to climb water spouts was requested with the response coming 'I don't know, just because we violently objected to something doesn't mean we've spent any time considering an alternative, that's not how the world works you dicks. YOU come up with it. But it better not offend us, or we'll take you to court, and watch out, because we can be offended by just about ANYTHING!'

After losing several millions of dollars in lawsuits from our suggestions of 'size unimportant', 'a size that fits in the rainbow of sizes, and 'sized somewhere between grab the bug spray to we're moving house', our fourth suggestion of 'differently boned' was immediately accepted with quote 'cool, did you just come up with that? That way I can say "Don't call me fat you dick, I'm big boned!" Yeah that totally works'.

Please Note: Bonkos official quote was 'the laws didn't go far enough, I'm told that sometimes those laughing "with" are ALSO doing it for the wrong reasons. I just don't know if I'll ever be able to trust laughter again. What am I going to do, what the hell am I going to do?' Then the phone call ended abruptly with a loud bang. 

Please Note Two: Three spiders have since become stuck and died in the water spout. When reached for comment the lawyer at the head of the ban the term itsy bitsy campaign was quoted as saying 'it's not our fault, maybe if the fat fucks laid off the flies and went for a walk occasionally they'd be okay, although if you call them fat in your story I'll sue the shit out of you, the official term is "big boned"'.

Please Note Three: A leading Arachnologists has now warned that if spiders, a traditionally boneless species, are now evolving to not just have an exoskeleton, but also bones, and already sometimes big bones then, quote 'we are all fucked, spiders will soon take over the world, there's probably one in your bed waiting to get you as we speak'.

Please Note Five: After a recent announcement made by an Arachnologists for some reason a swarm or a 'pratfall' of clowns has been seen 'freaking the fuck out'.

Please Note Six: The Coulrophobia (fear of clowns) Society has issued a statement saying 'we told you clowns were evil and would one day go psycho and try and take over the world, we TOLD you, but you all just laughed at us, you dicks. It's not nice to treat people differently just because they're different. There should be a term to describe idiots like you, I know, let's call you "dicks", yeah I like that. Ha ha, let's all laugh at the stupid "dicks"! 

Please Note Seven: It turns out Bonkos possibly did not shoot himself. Apparently little Suzie's mother was upset about the official complaint Bonkos had made about Suzie and most of her party guests, and had sought out Bonkos looking for 'revenge'. Seriously revenge? It's sickening, some people are just so damn sensitive. 

A beautiful Valentine's Day poem

Joel had a plan for the best Valentines Day present imaginable! 

He was going introduce his girlfriend Sally to something for the first time ever. 

Something splendid and wonderful.

Something gorgeous and radiant. 

Something elegant and ornate and awesome.

Something delectable and delightful and devine! 

He was to introduce her to cheese!

It was going to be epic. 

cheese.

Cheese.

CHEESE!!! 

But it turned out she'd already tried cheese.

It ruined his whole plan.

He was planning to say to her 'how have you never tried cheese before? Are you fucking crazy. It's cheese. For fucks sake, cheese. Cheese. CHEESE!!!'

But it was ruined. 

So they just had sex instead.

It was the worst Valentine's Day ever. 

And now, with love, here is an illustrated history of a piece of cheese 

Dream Success - A poem

Candida, a farmer from French Guina, claimed she 'never, ever, ever, totally, ever, ever, ever, never want to step foot in a museum!' 

Fortunately for her, her captors wanted nothing more than to shrink her head.

Loud Run

'Don't scream at me!!!' Screamed Helga. And it was TOTALLY out of character for her to be so flippant.

Yet barely anyone even remembered that it had happened. 

Which would have been strange in itself. If this incident hadn't happened three seconds before every human right eye on earth turned into a living baby elephant.

Plus Helga had just been screamed at for merely asking her sister to call their brother for once.

Which was a totally reasonable request.

So that may also be why no one remembered her also screaming.

I guess we'll never know which. 

Eight - Splashing To The Back Half

-->

I had pondering about retribution to do. And I needed to ponder BIG, and it had to be NOW.

So naturally I decided to first ponder over the last time I'd pondered, and see if I could remember if that pondering had achieved the goals I'd hoped to achieve, and if so were there therefore lessons I could remember to implement in this current dire situation, because if so this would allow me to ponder whether I wanted to repeat that success or try and find a new fresh solution, which obviously is something which would require some quite serious pondering.

Lucky there was a fish tank I could tip over to make a pond to ponder by, which I did immediately.  A kid yelled at me for spilling it on his head, but what the hell was a kid doing standing next to a fish-tank?

As the fish began their merry flapping dance I was hypnotized back into the back of my mind, I knew I'd hung on to that part of my brain for a reason. I don't get why so many people sell theirs. I know the look is in, but so were eyeball candles for a few years, but we all got over it when the trend moved on to wrapping your sexiest scarfs around a tomahawk, and then hacking it into your shins and leaving it imbedded in. And burned out eyes are easy to replace, you just nick some off a fly, they have hundreds. But where are you going to find the back half of a brain with your own memories in it?

I'll tell you where, at my new store 'Brian's Back Half Of Brains'. Hire me, and I will source the back half of a brain, jam it into my own head, then re-live up to a hundred of your favorite memories, then cut it out and jam it into your head. Let's see. For say $39.99 for up to fifty memories, and $22.99 more for anything above fifty? The only problem I can see is that my name isn't Brian. Not sure I want to change my name just for a brilliant business scheme. Hmm. I'll ponder it. Either way - copywrite.

Back in the back of my brain now I was remembering the last time I'd pondered....

I was around at Kev's place showing off the fedoras I'd installed in place of my kneecaps, as was the style that week, when Kev out of the blue verbally attacked me!
'Looks great dude' he said 'then again seems like any trend that comes along you can join in and make it your own in a fun yet cool way, I'm jealous' he smacked me with.
'Join in, seriously Kev, you dick. I've only seen ten or twelve other people do this so far, I don't join trends I START them!' I yelled back. Then I kicked him hard in the kneecaps.
'I bet now you're going to say I just "joined in" kicking you in the knees because that's what your father always did disciplining you and it's the reason behind the severe emotional damage you told me that your therapy and medication can't seem to overcome?' I said.
'Well no, I think I want to say thank you. I think you just snapped by right kneecap back in place. That's been bothering me since dad kicked it out when I was twelve. Oh my god. I can bend my leg properly again, thank you, THANK you! I'm finally free of this horrible ordeal that's plagued every day of my life for over twenty years!!! Thank YOOOOUUU!'

Fucking Kev. What a dick. Today was supposed to be about my fedora caps. Not his kneecaps. What a sheep, almost EVERYONE had kneecaps. What I was doing was fresh and new. But they were tainted now. So I needed them out. And that's when it happened, I pondered, and my pondering, like all good pondering, was focused like steel, and right to the point with flawless levels of intelligence and clarity as clear as a window made from fresh new air!

'Sticking Trilbies in there would be fresh and new, and the current surgery wounds are still fresh and new, so it would be easy to get it done today!'

I needed to get them put in NOW, and Kev had a BIG car which was helpful since I was in a wheelchair (and would be till I had real kneecaps put back in when the different type of knee hat trend would end later that week).

'Hey dick! Drive me to the hospital!' I yelled at Kev.
'Of course buddy' he replied. And off we went.

That was then. Now I snapped back out of my pondering about pondering. Like the fish before me snapping back to life as staff rushed to put them in glasses of water. Dicks, that was my pondering pond.

So 'doing something "fresh and new" had been the solution the last time I had pondered. And it had worked out great. So why not just do that again. I knew what I had to do. Kick the waiter in the kneecaps. And I had to use a BIG kick and I had to do it NOW!!!

Probably to be unfurled further*

*Depending on whether I instead pursue this other genius idea I just had, Willie's Windows Made From Fresh New Air! Let's see, 39.99 for up to fifty windows, and 29.99 for anymore after that up to a hundred? The only problem I can see is that my name isn't Willie, not sure I want to change it just for a brilliant business scheme. Hmm. I'll ponder it. Either way - copywrite.

Champions

It had been going on for eighteen solid hours. 

Blisters had formed, grown and popped.

Blood had spilled. 

Voices had worn more horse than a sad woman at the races who'd been screaming because she'd lost her big final bet on the final race by a nose. 

A horse nose.

Which aren't even cute. 

Depending on the horse.

And your personal proclivity toward this particular brand of majestic hoofed animal snout. 

Witnessed called it the most epic battle of Ring A'round the Rosie anyone had ever seen. 

And now, Roger, legs wobbling from exhaustion, but soul soaring with gloating arrogance, was ascending the winners podium ready to give a victory speech he planned to echo through the valley and vibrate into the already crushed and vulnerable spirit of the loser, Gary.

Yes this had a been a battle fought dirty from the get go. 

Skin had been scratched, eyes had been poked, hair had been pulled, and the trash talk was so brutal three spectators had even threatened to intervene with a fire hose.

An unprecedented act on the circuit, but one that many felt needed to happen. 

Especially after news had come in earlier that day that the local dam had burst and that residents should try and use as much water as possible 'shower twice if you have to' the news had said. 

An unprecedented amount of showering. 

But now Roger had won, and was ready to be showered with praise, but more than that he now hoped to take eighteen hours of built up pain and loathing and shove it deep down Gary's losing fucking throat. 

Yet Roger knew not yet of the dirtiest act that had been played of all. 

A move had been made more dastardly than even the worst move made during the entire horse nose trials of 88.

And who hasn't vomited on themselves thinking about that?

Before the trophy could be handed out, first the official had to test the participants for banned substances. 

And at some point during the battle.

Greg had managed to taint Rogers 'pocket full of posies' with a single Daisy.

Enough to have Roger quite definitely disqualified from this match, and possibly even banned for life. 

But it was only to get even worse.

It would turn out Greg had only even challenged Roger to a match so his accomplices could use the time to ransack Rogers house. 

Also one of these accomplieces was banging Greg's daughter, who'd helped orchestrate the whole thing, and was currently doing it in her dads bed. 

Also the 'throb of victory' that Roger currently felt in his chest would turn out to be the start of a heart condition that would traint the rest of Rogers life

Although few people felt sorry for Roger. 

Everyone on the circuit thought he was only EVER in it for the money. 

And had no real love for Ring A'round The Rosie. 

In fact it had been heard that Roger had once been heard to say 'why "Rosie" anyway, it's a rose, just fucking call it that'.

Although this particular atrocity had never been corroborated.

Most agreed that 'if I'd heard him say that, I'd have killed him on the spot'. 

I think we all would have. 

I know we all would have. 

Unless he was wearing his trademark horse head mask at the time. 

Who could hurt a horse.

Have you seen their noses? 

Soooooo cute! 

A Solid Step

It turned out Craig had been lying all along.

A statue had NOT come alive just to give him a high five.

I mean duh.

It had actually come alive to kick him in the balls. 

Seven - Response Buckets

'Answer me this, If your tears tasted like chocolate milk how much would that affect how much you'd cry the day your favorite pet dairy cow died?' I asked the waiter. 

'When you really want to make a monkey irate do you call it names or just act like you're not bothered by the names it calls you?'

'How many cubes of ice do you like on your spaghetti?'

'Do you consider doors to be more like giant misshapen straws or more like a leaky pool at a waterpark?' 

'Do you ever take a photo of something pretty without immediately making plans to take photos of that photo, and if not why are you even taking a photo, you wasteful dick?' 

'Do you buy your nuclear waste on the black market or through a worker with the official channels working off the books?'

'When you snap at people do you normally choose a towel, a rubber band, or their own legs post dipping them in fast drying elastic plastic'? 

'Who is your elastic plastic guy, and does he work on Good Sunday?' 

'How do YOU misspell Aruphamt?'

'Out of Lemurs, Manatees, and Toucans, which animals blood do you find changes stickiness the most on full moons'? 

'When in the rainforest what gage nets do you prefer to be trapped in?'

'What about when you're in a far less humid yet equally as vegetative environment?' 

'What's your favorite type of wood-chip to use to thicken up your baths?' 

'If your phlegm tasted like Parisian artichoke soup, how would that affect how much you'd cry the day your favorite flu-germ harvester got fired from his day job as an Aruphamt and therefore has to start charging you fifty percent more per bucket'? I asked the waiter. 

These may all seem like obvious questions to ask a stranger you're trying to get to know, but I wasn't asking them for that reason. No these were obvious yes, but they were also pertinent, and perticnity was very impertinent to me right now, I was trying to get a hold on his personality, his likes and dislikes, what made him tick, and what kind of explosion this ticking is leading to, and how dare he risk our lives by ticking like that near us? (And on a side note I was also trying to find a new elastic plastic guy, mine's decided to start taking off religious holidays, what an idiot, surely those are his busiest days!)

You see I'd paused a moment before putting my order in, knowing just how important this order would be, and the waiter had taken it upon himself to 'recommended' the, and I quote, 'tacos, they're great, but the enchiladas are some of my favorites too'. And I needed to know him inside and out before I could make a decision on whether to trust his recommendation or whether to spit it back in his face, possibly with some chewing tobacco mixed in, which would be hard because I didn't have any on me, and I had important stuff to attend to here, stuff that needed to be done in a BIG way, and NOW. I really did not need a trip to the tobacconist right now. Besides, my regular tobacconist was in a different county, and I'm not a disloyal dick. 

His answers, as it turned out, said a lot about him! And a lot is WAY more than hardly ever, possibly even a LOT more. They were as follows. 

'What?'

'Huh?' 

'Seriously?' 

'Come on!'

'Stop it'

'I said STOP it' 

'I told you earlier I don't want to answer your stupid questions'

'Just order something please'

'Or don't, I really don't give a shit'

'What? That's disgusting!' 

'I'm not even listening anymore'

'La la la, shut up or order something or I don't care'

'AAAGGHHHHH' And 

'Seven percent, is that what you want me to say, fucking seven percent!' 

Yep those answers said a LOT! A ton even. And even a ton in a situation when if someone asked you 'how much is a ton in this situation?' You'd answer 'a lot'. Yep those answers told me everything I needed to know about him. And they said it loud and clear -'I'm hard to get a handle on'! 

There was nothing I could do but think about this more. I could not even begin to think about what to eat with this hanging handle that was hard just dangling in front of my face. This was clearly going to take some serious pondering. And I HATE pondering on an empty stomach 'oh for crying out loud, just get me something BIG to eat, and get me it NOW!' I screamed him.

I mean I had retribution to take from him, and here he was making ME  ponder, what a dick! And retribution I would take, BIG retribution, and as soon as I had my food I'd take it NOW! 

To be peddled further*

*Like on a bike, a bike 'continuing' down a path*

*Paths are also great free places to store your spare buckets of flu-germ or exotic animal bloods, no one ever steals* them, I don't know why 

*Stealing being an act that makes you a dick! 

Stop the romanticism

I get it, you're hanging out with a bunch of buddies, everyone is ripping on their kids, bitching away, saying stuff like 'my kids man, such bitches, always bitching about their siblings, and ripping their clothes, bitching about their clothes being ripped, ripping on their siblings' outfits, and bitching that their siblings are bitching on them, I mean, man, kiiiiidddssss!!!' and suddenly you and your friends all realize the exact same thing at the exact same time - 'Bill, our Vampire buddy over there reading the wine list, NEVER bitches about his kids, wow, vampires must have some super progressive and forward thinking parental methods creating harmony in a typical vampire household, we should ask him about them?' 

Well DON'T!!! 

Fact: The only reason sibling relationships in vampire households are so beautifully turmoil free is because typical human sibling arguments over bunk beds and which sibling sleeps in which bunk relative to their preferred bunk (typically is the opposite bunk from the individual siblings individual preference) for them is rendered irrelevant due to the typical vampires typical choice of sleeping upside down while hanging from the rafters, and therefore negates even the possibility of arguments or negativity over bunk positions! 

(Exceptions exist of course, like this typical Tuesday night exchange in a typical vampire house:  

Kid 1: I want the left side of the rafter!

Kid 2: I ALREADY CALLED LEFT SIDE.

Kid 1: But I called NO CALLSIES! 

Kid 2: And I pointed out that you can't CALL no callsies, you have to DECLARE IT! 

Kid 1: Oh yeah? Well declare this - MUUUUUOOOMMM Jeremy is poking me with his talons! 

Mom: Talons? Those are what Hawks have! We're supposed to be bat like! If you're turning into a hawk Jeremy so help me god I'll march up there and put you in the naughty corner. The dark corner, which I'll admit is basically like heaven for a bat, but a nightmare for a hawk, unless there's a rat or two to eat, which there won't be, unless someone's been leaving crumbs around, we eat BLOOD in this house, NOT sandwiches, if I catch one of you damn kids eating a sandwich I'll SOOOOOO put you in the naughty corner! 

Kid 2: Mmmmoooouuummm if Batman is so into bats, why does he fight for humans and not vampires, it's not FAIR! 

Mom: Oh for fuck's sake Jeremy, I TOLD you Batman is not REAL, what kind of moronic loser gives anytime at all to made up things? Now go to sleep!!!

Kid 1: Ha ha, you got yelled at, you got yelled at, plus your face looks like a possum face! 

Kid 2: Mooooouumm, Stephan called me a possum face!

Mom: GO . TO . SLEEP . NOW . OR . I . WILL . POKE . YOUR . EYES . BACK . IN . SO . YOU . ARE . NO . LONGER . BLIND!!!!

Kid 1: ...

Kid 2: ...

Kid 1: ...

Kid 2: ...

Mom: Thank god 

Kid 1: Moooouumm, is it true that some vampires sleep in coffins, can we get coffins please, please, please, please!!!

Kid 2: I call top coffin!!!

Kid 1: No I call top coffin!!!

Kid 2: No fucking CALLSIES!!!!!!) 

So yes, other than on Tuesdays (a stupid day anyway) Vampires do live in households built on the firm foundation of the soft pillow that is sibling harmony, but it's only because of the bunk bed thing, so let's please stop fucking pretending that it's because of progressive and forward thinking parental methods that we could adapt to be used in regular human families in order to create a more harmonious world! It ain't going to happen you idiots. 

Oh also, stop bitching about your kids, you're the one hanging out with a fucking blood eating vampire, no wonder they're a little messed up! 

BreakingNews - Sociopath mistakenly called a psychopath

Tragedy today as a 'sociopath' named Ridge - while attempting to do nothing more than go about his everyday, routine, antisocial, mean spirited and miscreant like daily errands - was horrifically, cruelly, ludicrously and completely incorrectly mislabeled a 'psychopath' by a passing victim of one his activities. 

Ridge responded by completely and utterly freaking out, running around like a madman, screaming like a lunatic, burping like a maniac and ultimately having an explosion of unhinged, schizoid like craziness of such extremity that he accidentally briefly stopped being a sociopath, in fact he slipped off the 'path' altogether!  

Off the path Ridge was shocked to discover raw untouched nature - and with it calmness, enlightenment, freedom, serenity and hope. This of course freaked him out even further. So he yelled at a frog, slapped a tree limb, looked oddly at a hippy, licked a mongoose without first asking it's permission, and told a wild flower that to him it smelled like 'a god damn mass produced FARM flower, take THAT!'

All things that he immediately recognized as far more becoming of  a typical 'donkey brained monkey' than a sociopath. 

With his identity now clearly completely lost to him Ridge went on to dedicate the past six months of his life to helping the needy. Where he has been praised for his hard work and dedication. It's been a very eventful day for him. 

The man who casually (like he didn't even fucking care) just threw out a label on someone he didn't even fucking know was released from the hospital after only twelve hours and told that the remaining egg shell fragments still deeply imbedded in his skin would work their way out on their own within a year at the latest. He's yet to apologize, or even show a hint of remorse for his haphazard and unnecessary altering of the entire existence of someone else's life with this uncalled for labeling. 

When asked how they felt about this lack of remorse by this man against someone he didn't even know, a stranger we found on the street, who knew nothing of the incident other than what I've told you, was quoted as saying 'what a piece of fuckwad flavored shit, the guys a god damn psycho'.

And I think we can all agree with that. 

Please note: 

- The wildflower is being treated with state funded psychotherapy, and some anti-anxiety prescription medication and is expected to make an almost full recovery. 

- The mongoose and the frog are now dating and hoping to have at least a thousand babies, or tadmons, by the end of the month. 

- Neither the hippy nor the tree limb could be reached for comment, and of course we all pray neither of them ate the other one, or worse they ate each other, although if they did we hope they did without the need for name calling, that stuffs mean man. 

Close Call

I feel like the musical 'Joseph and the Technicolor Dream Coat' would have been vastly different if instead of a Technicolor Dream Coat is was a Technicolor Flesh Eating Bacteria, and if instead of Joseph, his name was Sir Hugs Alot.

Well I mean obviously, who's going to nick a coat off a knight? They have swords!

Six - Fight or uncaged

'Get into my office!' Yelled my boss at me one day with an angry menace being expressed by his volume of choice, in this case specifically as a yell. 

This was back when I was was a rare and exotic bird denier working for the federal department of rare and exotic bird denying. It was a plum job for the most part, the main five roles were as follows:

1. Saying 'nah, don't believe in em' myself'. When asked about our specific belief in specific birds, and with 'em' taking the place of the specific bird being specifically discussed at that specific time. 

2. Accusing professional birdologists of stuff, specifically that they'd done stuff like just painting pigeons to look like things such as different birds we were trying to deny, Lavender Crested TitHawks being a specific example. Or to be even more specific I'll tell you about one of my specific favorite days at work the whole time I was there, which was when I got to yell at a bird loving dick! And more specifically when I got to yell this - 'You're trying to tell me that THAT specific bird in that specific cage you're holding in front of me, is a Wingtailed Blue Mouse Godwit, nah man, you've clearly just glued some cut up blue t-shirt onto a different bird, in this case clearly a penguin to be specific, you lying dick, and oh look, now that I've opened the cage its flown away, definitely a penguin, fuck you for trying to fool people, you're a male body part, specifically a dick!' 

3. Doctoring all company wide memos to say at the bottom 'and remember, it's company policy to say "specific" as often as humanly possible, and anyone who fails at this will have their genitals (whatever that may entail to the specific employee) jammed into an item of office equipment, specially the paper shredder, and specifically the big rusty one by the ladies bathroom'. 

4. Making fun of the kid in accounts with a lisp who couldn't say 'specific' without spitting on the girl who worked on the desk immediately opposite him. 

5. Making fun of the girl in accounts who always seemed to have spit on her for some unknown reason.

It was a fun job. But the boss was a dick. I'd done absolutely nothing wrong on this day that he'd yelled at me to come into his office. Not a damn thing. ZILCH. 

Luckily I'd predicted that this dick would pull this kind of thing one day, so I'd been sneaking into his office every day when he was at lunch and setting up little boobie traps like thumb tacks on his seat to stick into his butt, and sending emails to his wife from his company account that were addressed to his secretary and referenced the fact that she was female, and ended with pictures of his butt, which were easy to get because he was always pulling down his pants at work and dabbing blood off his ass, the gross bastard, and I'd also been stashing some snacks around in case he had a lot to say, and I got peckish. 

On this particular day he was screaming at me for some nonsense, so I went to grab the burrito I'd stashed six months earlier in the locked draw where he kept all the company cash reserves, and yet when I reached for it all I found was a draw full of mush, bugs, stank, and for some reason some tiny fragments of cash. That boss sure was a dick. 

But now, seven years later, and I suddenly knew what the ordeal that day (of having to eat the bowl of fried rice I'd stashed in his briefcase instead of my coveted burrito, while he rattled on) was for. I'd stared gastronomical dissatisfaction right in the eye and burped hard on its lips, or more specifically on my bosses lips, to prepare me for this exact moment. A moment with so much on the line. 

And having faced this pain in the past I know knew exactly what to do the second I began to look over the menu now handed to me by the waiter. 

'Just don't order the six month old draw burrito, it'd probably be mushy, 

just don't order the six month old draw burrito, it'd probably be mushy' I began to chant to myself as a perused the options. Feeling more and more calm that I could make a choice that wouldn't bring further attention to my failures that day. 

Knowledge is power. And I had knowledge. And therefore I had power. And power is powerful. And I was ready to blow my power right in the face of this waiter. 

Of course even if I hadn't had that job, I could have just drawn on some knowledge about ordering options of learned the last time I'd eaten here, about thirty five minutes or so ago with Kev. But I'd forgotten totally about that.

Not that Kev bothered to remind me, that dick, no he instead asked if he could borrow my scarf to tie around his wound and try and stop he bleeding. Why would I want blood on my scarf? He knows I don't like wearing l red on Sundays, but I don't think he even thought about that. Selfish dick. 

Also I had the same waiter as I'd had earlier. Not that I remembered. Why  would I? What kind of a loser remembers other people? A loser like this waiter, that's what type. 

'Seriously?' He said when I told him I'd never seen him before in my life 'you don't remember less than an hour ago throwing a bowl of chilli in my face and calling me a dick for not warning you that chilli was served hot?' 

Why would I remember that? Some people are so self-centered, you're not all we think about dicks! 

'I'll just have any burrito less than six months old that's never been in a draw' I suddenly blurted out, to shut him up, he'd begun to ramble on... 'you don't remember asking if any of your own butt cheek was in the food? You don't remember screaming at me to expose the secret hole of celebrities, you don't remember lighting the table cloth on fire and then accusing the fish in the tank of being selfish dicks for not offering their water to put it out?' On and on and on he went. But the next thing he said shocked me. Specifically to the core. Like seeing a completely mythical bird in the flesh, something like a peahen, and then having every bit of truth you believed in cut from under you, like cutting the legs off a peahen to see if it was actually just a sparrow with dryer fluff stapled to it. 

'All our burritos are less than six months old, and none of them have been in draws, so you need to be more specific about what you'd like please'. 

Yep he said it. And it was a dig. A dig at me. ME! Yes ME! Of all people he could have said that to, he chose to say it to me! And it was a dig. Like what you do to make a hole. And a hole is my favorite type of ground opening. Yep! He'd used the method of creating something I like to hurt ME! That self-centered dick. And now, among the numerous balls I was juggling, all of which represented a disaster, things like:

- Making sure that dick Kev got distracted by me doing something BIG and NOW, that he'd forget that I'd promised that I'd find something cool in the cloakroom. And

- Making sure everyone in the room knew that I didn't think you eat the menus themselves, and making sure they new that by eating BIG and NOW! 

And now I now also had to deal with this dig, and I had to deal with it NOW and in a BIG way. Yep, I now had to add retribution against the waiter to the list, and it would have to be specifically BIG retribution, and specifically NOW! Right NOW! 

More to be unearthed*

*Not a great word for continued, but a nice word none-the-less, it reminds you of earth, and un, and ed, all great things. Although if you ask me at least one of those things isn't even a thing, for example I'm sure earth is really just a large Diamond Taloned Condor* with alligator barf stuck in its beard. 

*Which are of course just seagulls that someone nailed a cactus to. 

Five - crowned request

The things that change your life rarely happen how you think that they will. They may be inspired by long term plans and sustained efforts, or they may come before you've even considered a possibility of change, but when the change actually happens it usually comes swiftly, and out of the blue, like a smack in the head from a surfboard someone accidentally dropped out of a hot-air balloon, which has happened to me three times, yet only once by choice. 

Like I remember exactly where is was and what was happening the day I found out that I'd never be the King of England. It was that devastating that every detail was burned in my brain.

I was at a bar somewhere, and I wasn't wearing a jumper so it must have been summer or heated room, and I think some other people were around, although that might be my wedding I'm thinking of, which didn't end in a marriage because I forgot to go, when suddenly, pow, a movie about a King came on the TV! 

I immediately said out-loud 'that'll be me one day', possibly to people I was with, if I had been with people, or possibly to a stranger if I'd been alone, and someone, possibly someone I was with, or possibly a stranger, replied 'No you won't'! 

I didn't know what he was talking about, so I calmly began to look into it. And, well, over a few months of research, questioning my relatives, studying the history of people lying about their ancestral backgrounds, home DNA testing to test those lies for myself, then going to school to learn how do DNA testing the correct way, (after finding out that just looking at two peoples hair, skin flakes or body fluids and seeing if they sorta look alike is apparently wrong), then redoing those tests, then asking my relatives if they knew how to grow other people's hair, skin and body fluids, then doing some research into the history of people lying about their ability to grow other people's hair, skin and body fluids, I finally came to the conclusion swiftly, and out of the blue, that maybe my parents were telling the truth when they said we were not the British royal family. 

Why the truth now? They'd lied about so much in their lives, like for example:

- My underpants had NOT ended up growing into my body because I refused to change or wash them for three years. I'd been able to get them off just as easy as most scabs in the end.

- I'd actually taken TWO eyes out by throwing darts at my brothers, not AN eye. And 

- I did leave it alone, and it still fell off, my third ear that is, that was growing on the back of my neck. And I'm not even sure why they thought that I wouldn't want it to fall off. I mean I sold that thing to Luke Guff for a buck twenty five! 

So finding out suddenly like that, that they'd told the truth that I wasn't Royal was a real blow. But then many years later I discovered that in restaurants 'the customer is king'. I suddenly didn't care if I was King of England, as long as I'd get to be a king of something one day. So I kept this fact in my brain for many years, just waiting for the right time to use it to my advantage. 

'No I will not eat this glass!' I suddenly declared, while spitting out the three shards I'd already begun chewing on 'In fact, I will instead take a menu!' I stated in a deep booming voice across the restaurant, like the fact it was, with big sweaty fact knowing power, which left ripples of fact flowing through the air, one of which knocked a picture of a clown fish off the wall which landed on Kev's wailing face. Although it may also have been time and gravity that knocked it off. Almost all the art was falling off. It was almost like it was just left around by the old owners and then never touched. It was a pretty shitty restaurant. I even forgot that it WAS a restaurant briefly when the lights were in my face. Have I mentioned that yet? It was Kev's idea to come here of course, what an asshole. 

'Not like to eat though' I added as an aside, while scratching at the scar behind my neck, as it had suddenly occurred to me that the way I had declared what I'd stated kind of made it sound like I was asking for a menu to eat, instead of ordering food to eat off, assuming they were out of plates, it seemed like that sort of place. 

'What kind of idiot would eat a menu. That's absurd!' I now yelled. 

Now I felt like I was overcompensating. There was only one way to reel this back in. I'd have to prove that I had ALWAYS been hungry for real food. And there was only one way to do that - I'd have to order a BIG meal, and order it NOW. And it would have to be REALLY big, and REALLY now, cause they'd already said the kitchen was closing soon, so I'd probably not have a chance to order seconds... Or would I? 

To be more of* 

*Another way of saying that there's   more to come, seriously someone really fucked up with not having more synonyms for continued. Like REALLY fucked up. I guess it's up to me to look into that. Or is it?* 

To be explored* 

You know, like as if there wasn't already enough drama to juggle here!