The Ghost - A poem

Jake was telling everyone he knew that he'd made love to a ghost. 

His wife was horrified.

He'd cheated on her. 

She left him.

She sued for divorce. 

She found the best lawyer in town.

She was willing to do anything to stop people finding out that was just what her fake tan looked like under a black light. 

So ARE you a cow?

It happens to all of us occasionally, some of us almost regularly, we wake up in the morning with grass between our teeth, with a bell around our neck and a hankering for a fresh glass of milk, and we think 'holy shit, am I a cow?' 

For most of us this panic lasts a few hours, we'll stare in the mirror for while trying to spot human characteristics, we'll jump online and do some research, we'll eat something and see if it feels like four stomachs are working rather than one. But you can never really tell, and you just want someone to give you a definitive list of ways to tell if you are in fact a cow, but it doesn't exist. 

Well that is, until now!

How to tell if you're a cow: 

- Your childhood education went basically like this: 

'Mommy, where do I sleep'?

'You're standing on it'

'Where do I shit?'

'You're standing on it'

'What do I eat?' 

'You're standing on it'

Then your mother got turned into a purse.

- Last time someone was sucking on your tail they exclaimed 'mmmm tastes like cow'.

- All 8 of your dicks are leaking milk. 

- Whenever you are racist people say 'ah I can't be mad, you're black AND white..... Although not brown, you racist'.

- You're named 'Daisy', or 'Driving Miss' or half of any Morgan Freeman movie, 'Shawshank' or 'Almighty' or you have Gwyneth Paltrow's head in a box in your closet. 

- When people do a Christopher Walken impression near you, you can't help but be all like 'more cowbell? I don't gotta have more cow bell, do you know farmers use those so they can keep a track on us at all times? And also that they're uncomfortable and sometimes smell like rust?' 

- When they inevitably switch to Walken's watch monologue from Pulp Fiction, you're now all like 'oh a watch in your ass? You know how I get artificially inseminated? Farmer sticks his whole arm in my ass, I've got like ten watches back there!'

- Whenever you're eating steak part of you is thinking 'why does this taste like that one time I vomited so hard flesh came out'?

So there you go, finally a definitive way of finding out if you are, or are not a cow.

So how'd you go? Are you a cow? If so can you stop texting me, I don't swing that way, anymore, plus your hoofy typing leaves you WAY over punctuating, oh also, your vomiting flesh? That's not right, go see a doctor, or a vet, or just a barbecue, let's face it, that vomit you did tasted awesome!! 

Mix This

Confession time - I've never been to a goat herding themed croissant mixer.

Now I know what you're thinking - 'you Dave? You've NEVER been. That's madness. That seems right up your alley, WAY up your alley. Nice alley by the way, you keep it nice and tidy, I'm into that'. 

And first off, thank you, I have long kept a nice clean alley, but I wasn't aware anyone had really noticed, which can be frustrating at times, because it certainly doesn't clean itself, there are always fast food wrappers, and sometimes old tires, I don't know how they get there, if you're going to dump your tires why bring them to MY alley you animals! 

And secondly, you're RIGHT! It is up my alley, WAY UP my alley. And I'll tell you it's difficult living a life that's devoid of the memory of going to goat herding themed croissant mixer, there's like a shadowy area in my memory where that should be, and frankly that area is scaring the crap out of my memories of being a child. 

Oh sure, I could glue together memories of the many goat herding themed bars, restaurants, hatariums, and reptile zoos I've been too, and memories of the dozens of croissant mixers I've been to, hosted by everyone from everyone's favorite fence mender Harold Deesh to my local rock merchant Norm Stone, a man who just does NOT stop loving people saying 'well you're certainly in the right line of work' despite stones and rocks being vastly different things.

But why should I glue memories? I'm down there every day cleaning my alley, with goat herding loving croissant mixing people right up my alley, sure it's WAY up my alley, but I make it up that far occasionally when the weather is nice. And I want in.

Here's what you can do to help:

- Are you throwing a croissant mixer this weekend? 

- Probably. 

- So consider adding in a goat herding theme.

- I mean really consider it. 

- It's starting to sound pretty good isn't it?

- Well done for thinking in sound.

- But also think of the visuals.

- Goat herding shirts!

- Goat herding shoes!  

- Goat herding HATS! 

- Goat shit everywhere.

- Goat shit on goat herding hats! 

- Alright, so it's settled, yay, you're throwing a goat herding themed croissant mixer!

- Congrats!  

- Now invite me PLEEEEEAAAASSSEE!

- Wait I forgot, goat shit on goat herding hats! 

- Oh I'd said that already. 

- Don't let that take away my invite. 

- It was just a mistake.

- Am I still getting an invite? 

- Well you know what, fuck you!

- And also if you're currently thinking the old tire you wear as a necklace is going out of style, then stay the fuck away from my alley!!! 

Compliance - a poem

David, a semi-regular writer of poems.

Challenged himself to write a whole poem in the time it took to get from Sydney's Town Hall station to Central station.

On the train.

And that's only one stop.

And he was already on the train.

So he did not want to dilly-daddle.

Wait is that the right term? 

Yeah I think so. 

His random word offering app gave him the word - compliance - as inspiration.

I guess this poem fits that definition.

And the train has only just started moving.

'Damn'

He thought. 

Sure it technically complied. 

But its nothing super special, probably only regularly special. 

'Hmmm' he thought. 

'Hmmm' he added. 

'Um' he pondered.

'Fuck it, I've got a minute or so' he declared out loud, making fellow passengers fear he was about to do something rash. 

And we was. 

He wrote this.

Michael, a lawyer who specializes in arbitration between tenant and landlord disputes. 

Took a shit on his neighbors porch.

He had absolutely no beef with them.

So he was confident of getting away with it. 

He was happier with this one.

Cause it combined two of his loves.

Shitting in strange places. 

And the law. 

Yep this one really was super special. 

In the eyes of the beholder - a poem

Grant was hired to work in a store selling human eyes to people who had lost an eye in some sort of accident or fight.

Very early on he realized that human eyes super grossed him out.

So he began to substitute in 

monkey eyes, dolphin eyes, giraffe eyes and occasionally even pheasant eyes.

The customers always seemed pleased with their new eyes.

None of them made complaints.

But Grant never felt safe.

Because on the way out they always looked at him funny. 

Signs you're currently locked inside a small cage

I know what you're thinking - ‘my life feels small, tight, enclosed, almost locked away, but maybe it's not my life, maybe it's just my body, as perhaps I'm currently literally locked inside a small cage, but how could I possibly know?’

Well I feel your pain. I know you're headspace, I've been there myself, that's why, and this is a Fleeting Forever exclusive, I went out and did the research and found out just how to tell if you ARE currently locked inside a small cage.

After several years of testing, experimenting, surveying and even imagining (that was Einstein's method so you can trust it) I have discovered the following three ways of knowing definitively if you may currently me locked inside a small cage:

1. You were recently deeply entrenched in a dispute over who was next in line to buy gelato, after the physical brawl, where you lost an ear, but the other guy lost a fibula, the manger finally decided to make a decision, but not wanting to get in the middle he delegated the role to the new girl who works three hours on every Tuesday and Thursday that her tennis coach is in jail, which has been six straight months now, she really should look at the piece of paper that the judge sent her detailing his conviction and sentence, although it should be noted that his conviction was due to a drink driving offense, and he never acted inappropriately towards any of the girls or boys he coached, it's a shame that needs to be said, but maybe clichés exist for a reason, and of course this does not in anyway diminish how bad drink driving is in itself, and we should all be thankful that all he did was knock over a mail box, then drive into a pool, and again when we say 'all he did' we do not want to take away the pain of the pool boy who was scooping car parts out of that pool for weeks, once the school girl had fruitlessly made a facial expression suggesting that she did not want that responsibility, that she  then looked over at you holding that guys fibula, and it reminded her of her 86th favorite movie, the Burbs, staring Tom Hanks, Corey Feldman and possibly one of the Quaid brothers, and is possibly about a man who's dog digs up a fibula from the backyard of his neighbors, and the neighborhood start to suspect them of being killers, although she's not a hundred percent sure, and in fact what she's calling a fibula maybe is actually called a femur? I mean fuck off, she's 16, she doesn't know all the names of bones, and in fact it would be weird if she did! In any case she said 'I guess the guy holding the leg bone can go first' and as you started yelling 'woo-hoo' and began to use his leg bone to play drums on an overturned empty ice-cream canister, the other guy suddenly said 'oh yeah, go first if you want, but just see what will happen?' And then you replied 'why don't you tell me, I respond to threats layered with specificity way more than ones leaving me to fill in the gaps, because at the core I'm an optimist, and I tend to fill in those gaps with balloons and trips to the zoo' and he replied with 'ok, fair enough, well I have a small cage at my house and I will put you in it' and you were like ‘alright man, that doesn't sound that bad, could be an adventure, or at least lead to a good story to tell, hey girly, hit me with a scoop of vanilla bean, and what ever this guy wants, and be snappy I want to get into this cage quickly, before I lose my nerve'. And this all happened about how long it would take to get from the gelato store to the guys cage, plus a minute or two of shoving time, then you may well currently be in a small cage!

2. If you yourself ARE a very small cage, and the store selling you has displayed you inside a slightly bigger cage to conserve floor space, you may currently be in a small cage.

3. If all sides of you seem to be entrapped between the walls a small cage, you may currently be in a small cage.


So that's it, that's the three ways to know if you may currently be in a small cage. I hope you got lucky and are in one! That is if that's what you were hoping for, and if it wasn't, what's wrong with you? Why don't you want adventures or fun stories to tell?

Burning down the house

I like to think that if my house was on fire the following things would go through my mind.

- Oh no, my house is on fire, boo.

- This sucks. Did I say boo yet?

- Oh I did? 

- When? 

- Oh right, right, right, right, right. 

- Ha ha, that's fun to say over and over, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, ha ha, it never gets old, right, right, right, right, I could seriously be here for a long while, right, right, right. 

- What do you mean, snap out of it because my house is on fire? 

- Oh no, my house is on fire! Boo. 

- Oh wait maybe it's just smoke? 

- It could be couldn't it? 

- Maybe this could be just a really badly burned toast scenario?

- I don't have housemates, so I guess it would have to be a ghost.

- But that would explain the burning, cause he's trying to hit eject on the toaster, but his hand is going right through it, and that means it's going through the hot part too, which would hurt BAD, so I'm not going to chastise him for a little smoke.

- Can it be just smoke if there are huge flames bellowing out of he windows? 

- Nope? 

- Damn it. That means it's fire? 

- Boo.

- Wait, unless it's steam?

- Can it be steam and have bellowing flames? 

- Damn it.

- Is bellowing the right word? That's more for smoke than the flames right? 

- No I don't know either, that's why I asked dick. 

- Although if it WAS steam, that would be badass, because it probably would mean that a steam powered time machine has arrived! 

- It could be a messenger from the future just for me!

- Do time machines ever emit fire? 

- You know what? Probably! 

- Cause steam isn't going to be powerful enough to get you through time.

- The steam-engine probably just powers up the flashing lights that make the machine look all spacey.

- Wow, a time machine, in MY house! 

- This is mad!

- Do people still say 'mad' meaning 'rad'?

- Do people still say 'rad' meaning 'good'?

- Is 'good' still 'good', I mean it's not 'awesome', or even 'great'? 

- Maybe time machine person can tell me about mad new words from the future! 

- Wow.

- I wonder if one will be 'hertja', that'd  be rad. 

- I wonder why I was chosen? 

- What's special about me?

- Do I have anything that people in the future might need? 

- I still have my old high-school text books that have all the key sentences highlighted so that only the most useful of the endless lines of uselessness need be read? 

- Nah, I don't think they need those. Plus I've got doodles of boobs all through them. In the future they probably have virtual reality doodles of boobs! 

- My detailed knowledge of beetle attitudes towards various types of human could be valuable? Maybe in the future they're all unsure about certain beetles and their relationships with Asian women?

- But nah, they'd probably just chuck a bunch of beetles into a pit with a bunch of Asian women and observe themselves. 

- My ability to be a corporate stooge while simultaneously being a corporate stooge for the original corporate's corporate rivals is still strong? Possibly. That is pretty valuable.

- That kind of extremely loyal lack of loyalty may help thwart an intergalactic disagreement?

- But then again if there are intergalactic battles going on they probably WOULD want my boob covered book on the Iranian hostage situation from the 70s or whatever, I never read it, and we've already established that they have virtual reality doodles of boobs.

- So what do I have that's valuable?

- Oh holy hell.

- My god. 

- I know what it is! 

- I just bought a new box of ice-cream sandwiches, oh my god someone call 911 - I'm being fucking time robbed!!!!

- And they're burning down my house to cover up the evidence! 

- Which means even if they don't discover the second batch of ice-cream sandwiches I hid behind the frozen apple pie they may end up melting! 

- Those future mother fuckers. 

- Oh wait.

- I just remembered something. 

- I don't own a house. 

- Or live in America, so 911 won't do shit. 

- Also why am I holding an industrial sized bottle of kerosene and some extra long matches intended for lighting barbecues? 

- Oh that's right, I'm an arsenist, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, right, seriously ENDLESS fun. 

- I wonder if anyone did call the cops? 

- Oh fuck, RUUUUUUNNNN!!! 

A simple trip to the zoo

A simple trip to the zoo.

'It was a simple trip to the zoo' he said describing what he had intended.

'Let's take a simple trip to the zoo?' Frank had suggested earlier that day.

'Oh I'll take a simple trip to the zoo' Greta had replied enthusiastically to Franks suggestion.

But it would not turn out simple.

And it would not turn out to be a trip.

And it would not turn out to be the zoo.

That's right.

Get ready.

For the disaster.

That was.

Frank.

And Gretas.

Cue dramatic music, drums, cello, maybe even some form of synthesizer, set to a dramatic setting, with drums and cello. 

That's right it's time to tell you all about.

These people I've talked about.

Frank and Greta that is.

And they're difficult journey to the nature reserve!!!

First up was it simple? Hell no. 

The tickets were expensive, leading to Frank debating whether he should offer to pay seeing as he'd invited Greta, or whether he should suggest splitting it, seeing as this is a modern world hell bent on equality, or whether she should pay, I mean why shouldn't she? She earned more than him and yet she NEVER offered to pay! Even when the thing was her suggestion. And why does this debate even have to come up in his mind, why can't someone define the rules. It was madness. 

'Excuse me sir?' Suddenly asked the cashier as Frank started to grumble under his breath and narrow his eyes staring at the sign indicating the $27.99 entrance fee.

'Frank?' Added Greta, unhelpfully. 

'THE MODERN DATING RULES ARE TOO COMPLICATED!!!' Frank suddenly screamed.

Then the cashier threw a bucket of elephant piss in his face. As a frequent date-day location, she'd seen this many times before, and found elephant piss often swayed the mans anger away from his date and/or modern dating rules, and moved it squarely onto the cashier. It was a selfless act, rewarded with frequent tirades of abuse, but in this case Frank was wise to her plan and it instead left him infatuated, although then Frank suddenly wondered if elephant piss was an aphrodisiac? It would be a debate that raged through him the rest of the day. He finally settled on 'yes it was aphrodisiac' which lead to his disastrous 'elephant juice' business, that everyone knew was piss not juice, I mean you have to print the ingredients on the bottle, what the hell was he thinking? I mean it would be fine if the product worked. But did Frank do his scientific research? No he didn't. But the bottle claimed he did. It was an all around disaster, so this was not simple at all, it was difficult! 

And was it a trip? Um the closest bus stop was three blocks from the entrance? What the fuck state-transit. Three blocks, what are we fucking animals? Frank had a pebble in his shoe. He often does, as he finds mild-irritation and occasional slight pain in his foot to be be a lovely distraction from the frequent bug bite rashes he has due to his sweat apparently being specifically attractive to bugs. Bugs of all kinds too, mosquitos, flies, wasps, centipedes, even beetles, and beetles are normally happy peaceful animals that live in harmony with humans, so the fact that they were biting Frank gave him real reason to think he was special, but here's the thing, if he knew he was going to have to walk three blocks, he would have chosen a smaller pebble for his shoe, he likes slight pain at worst! There's a fucking science to it, but now you've got a guy with slightly above slight pain, and you're talking a trip? No no no that's a journey. The mans got beetle bites you dicks! 

And was it a zoo? No it wasn't. It was a damn nature reserve, they might have called themselves a zoo, but there weren't even any marsupials. I'm serious. zero marsupials. Well there may have been a possum caught in the gears in the machine that runs the waterfall in the gator pit. Which frankly was a waste of money, who cares about a waterfall when there are prehistorical beasts of prey-eating powerfulness sitting there? But you don't have marsupials then you don't have pouches, and you got no pouches how the hell are you supposed playfully ask your date 'reckon there's a Joey in there?' That's an adorable thought, and those can be desirable in a romantic situation, plus think of this 'if you had a pouch, what would you keep in it?' Try asking a girl that when not looking at a cage full of wallabies, and just see what happens! Or you can wait for me to tell you what happens, as I am about to do 'what made you think of that?' Greta replied. 'Fuck, now I have to explain my entire thought process out, I'm using my brain to try and figure out if elephant piss is an aphrodisiac damn it?' Frank thought. 'This guy seems to clam up anytime a question is raised, I'm not into that' thought Greta. 'If there's a possum in the fucking gears get it out!' Suddenly screamed Frank. It was a really weird exchange. And if things are getting weird you are NOT at a zoo, you know unless it's a zoo with weird animals, but who wants to go to one of those? 

Yes it was supposed to be a simple trip to the zoo.

'Let's take a simple trip to the zoo' Frank had suggested.

But instead the nightmare happened, they ended up on difficult journey to the nature reserve.

And that's not romantic at all. 

But perhaps it was the best.

Frank and Greta were brother and sister after all.

Hmmmm.

I wonder if all the inbreeding in his family might be the cause of Franks weird bug issue? 

He should probably look into that. 

Big whistle news

'After a long exhausting study, encompassing quizzes, questionnaires, questioning the quiz masters on the their questioning techniques and even querying quarantine rules in Queensland (an EPIC dead-end) there's been an official declaration, and as such I've officially been sanctioned to make the official announcement..... whistling IS fun!'

'Now calm down. I know this is a controversial finding, and I will of course address some of the key points that I assume to be causing this ruckus, who has a question?'

"Hello, Mr Simmons here, high-school teacher, and amateur botanist, was it noted that people in prison have been known to whistle, and that prison doesn't look like fun, so how could prisoners be doing something fun, how damn it, explain that?"

'Yes Mr Simmons, firstly thank you for identifying the rare fern that's roots had grown into my plumbing last week, of course identifying it did nothing to get me hot water again, but at least now I get to yell "fuck you Lycopodium" while I shower, and in answer to your question of course that was noted, and it was studied, I believe a questionnaire was even developed, possibly even implemented, and I can tell you this, despite everything we know about prison life, from toothbrush shivs to arguments over who gets the top bunk, all seemingly pointing towards prison being a terrible time, it was discovered that mild fun, such as whistling, did occasionally enter the lives of even prisoners'. 

"Mild fun? MILD FUN? Fuck you David!"

'I'm sorry Karl, did you have a question?'

"Yes, David, you condescending ass, whistling is not MILD fun, it's a LOT of fun, and I'm not going to stand here and listen to a pastime I adore be tarnished like this". 

'Oh thank you Karl, well done on not getting a question in during this question and answer session, and yes, I have noticed that while you've been at my house this week, apparently fixing my plumbing, I've heard a LOT of whistling, but felt NO hot water!'

"You motherfucker, do you know how hard it is to get lycopodium out of old plumbing? So I whistle to make it less torturous, sue me dick".

'You've just sold yourself out Karl, whistling only makes it "less torturous"? If it should be classified as "a LOT of fun" as you so passionately like to argue, surely that would do more than just reduce the torture that doing your job apparently is! Learn to argue smart you friggin' idiot'.

'Who else has a question? Yes Claudia Hulper'.

"When do you think Karl will be done at your place? I have been affected by the lycopodium infestation as well, and with no water in my house I've been forced to drink champagne which really tickles my throat".

'Sorry Mrs Hulper, can we stay on topic please, whistling'.

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought it was damn obvious that whistling was fun, and yet this town has just spent years and a ton of effort and money on a study while simultaneously allowing a rare fern to ravage the town?"

'Ok, well if I you people are going to come to town meetings drunk maybe we'll just stop running them'. 

'Well if no one has anymore questions then that's it for tonight. shut up Karl, you've had your say. We'll reconvene in several weeks, or as soon as we have the results to our NEW study finished, currently titled - Grazing ones knee, fun? Last I heard they were already querying the squeamish on how they feel about spinach quiche, so results may well be immanent. So thanks for coming, and good night citizens of Ourtaxessurearehighville, don't forget to grab a lycopodium juice on the way out!' 

Colored-in pink - a poem

I was talking to my friend Fred the other day. 

He's going through a tough time.

Which is tough for him.

Because he's a drawing of a dragon.

And he's supposed to be tough.

But he didn't feel though. 

Because he'd been colored-in pink. 

And he had a unicorn horn drawn on his forehead. 

And there were several drops of dog pee on the mountain drawn adjacent to him.

And the mountain looked lame. 

Like a snow capped turd. 

Only not that turdy, more like a brown triangle really.

But it looked more like turd than a mountain.

And it was supposed to be a mountain.

So that's super lame. 

And he had a huge fold through his midsection.

Cause some idiot had thought it was ok to put him in a pocket.

A pocket damn it. 

That's no place to put art.

Art should be on a wall.

Or in one of those art folders.

You know the ones? 

They're like folders.

But made for art. 

And he was unable to breathe fire like so many of his friends could.

Which is such a let down when you're a drawing of a dragon. 

It's probably one of the top five best things about being a dragon.

Better than being hunted by knights at least.

And if your going to cop that you want to be able to breathe fire at them. 

Oh plus his best friend is a delusional man that's thinks you can befriend drawings. 

Yep Fred's doing it tough.

I'm doing well though, so things aren't too bad.

Humankind is pretty sweet

There have been some great achievements made by humankind. I think we can pretty much all agree with a statement like that. You poll 88 people outside a mall and I bet you 80 of them will say 'yeah, I can agree there have been some great achievements by humankind' and that’s a high number, especially when you consider the other three options in the multiple choice were A. Nah fuck that, I'm not agreeing to shit. B. Yeah sure, but what about floods, can we think about floods for a minute please? And D. I'll blow you for some weed. And here is the thing, out of the eight people who didn't answer C, at least four of them will say 'meh' when you ask them the follow up question - can you think of a species that's made more great achievements, when looking at volume of achievements rather than specific quality and while looking only at achievements in a vacuum devoid of failures, which we don't discount existing, just we're choosing not to factor them in at this specific time?

So I think we've established humans have made some great achievements, I mean just think of them, houses, hats, questionnaires outside malls, the list is endless. Humans are great

Which brings me to Lewis Grant, a man who is a genius inventor. Now I know Lewis is a genius because I have had my life changed by his work, changed for the better, possibly even enriched, which is like being rich without the models. So I rate Lewis. Just think of some of his amazing inventions most of us use every day:

- His canoe that constantly updates paddlers on the pollution levels of the body of water it’s floating in and with it the danger of falling in.
- The number Forfth, falling conveniently between fourth and fifth which saves us all constantly having to write 'sort of between fourth and fifth' which is particularly helpful when debating which period of Beethoven's life he was most in favor of implying curfews on squirrels.
- The phrase 'blast your cursing ape' which he coined after his neighbor bought a pet ape and gave it a ghetto blaster and a tape of children learning swear words from teenagers, but a phrase that has since found ironic popularity it artisan cookie circles.
- His guided hospital gown with a tracking device allowing fans of saggy sick person butt to time their 'visits to sick friends’ in hospitals perfectly.
- And of course the product that he made a name for himself with, his amazing hair wax that's only 86% as greasy as your leading brand name waxes, as we all know called 'almost touchable'.

Most of us use all of these at least a dozen times a week, at least those of us that have been enriched by them enough to afford them. So I think we've now established two things:

1. Humankind has made some great achievement.
2. Well not all of humankind, Lewis Grant is lifting at least six people's loads, lift your own loads you lazy bastards!

This is what I was thinking when Lewis invited me to his house this week. This was no social visit. Lewis claimed he’d hit the mother load, his crowning achievement, and possibly humankind's greatest moment, and he’d offered me, as a world renowned journalist, a chance to be the first to see it.

‘It’s a ray machine that makes people disappear’ he said, as we both stood over what looked like science fiction laser blaster, ‘and here’s the thing, it also leaves the entire world with no evidence or memory of the person, including making it so the rays user has no memory of using it!’

‘But then how do you know it works if you don’t remember using it?’ I asked, being a world renowned journalist obviously trains you to ask awesome questions like this.
‘Oh I know it works, because as I stand here I literally have no memory or proof of existence of any human that I may have used it on, if it didn’t work there would be a paper train, memories, possibly even people calling up saying “have you seen Todd?” but there is literally nothing’ he said, very convincingly.

‘WOW’ I replied, again using my excellent journalism skills.
'Also think about this, is anyone bothering us right now?' Lewis asked.
'Well your maid keeps giving me pissed off looks when I look at her like she's trying to pocket the Rolex you left on the table over there?'
'Ok, well apart from her?'
'No!'
'That doesn't that strike you as strange?'
'You're right, normally there are more people around, especially since you opened your lab up to the public, increasing your maids workload abundantly, although you chose to not even give her a five percent raise, and you can really afford it, and people are really, really annoying, one of them once asked me for the time, how am I supposed to give someone time, I'm not a fucking doctor!' I replied.
'So it MUST work. I must've gotten rid of them ALL!!!'
'You don't think the cursing ape next door scared them off?' I asked.
‘Nope last week I shot the ape with a tranquilizer gun and relocated it to a poor neighborhood where the cursing wouldn’t be so out of place’

‘So it is true, you’ve done it!’

‘Yes I have’

So there you go ladies and gentleman. All the annoying, rude, nosy, aggravating, fuck head asshole dicks that make up most of the population will soon be gone, and we’ll have no memory they ever existed, just more proof that humankind really has made some great achievements.

You're officially a WINNER!!!

How to be a less wasteful winner

Let's face it, if you are here right now, then you've long been in with the Fleeting Forever program of excellence (created three minutes ago), and as such you're a winner, we're all winners, we win harder than just about anyone, most of us win eight to ten times a day! Congratulations, winning that often is a win in my book, and my book is an award winner. Wow, we all just can't stop winning.

The problem is when you win as often as we all do you can become complacent, sloppy and even casual, so that's why I want to talk about ways to be less wasteful in our relentless winning. And you have to remember that not everyone wins as often as us, some folk barely even win at 87% of things they attempt, a number so low most of us upon encountering it would probably pelt it with medals until it died! Of course then we'd win 'best murder of number' at the international number awards, and be given yachts, but that's just us, and we have to be take all those losers into consideration.

Before we get to some ways to be less wasteful in our winning, let's first look into a little bit of the history of the key elements to winning. 

Celebrations

Winning would be far less fun without the post win celebration, but there was actually a time, before the invention of celebrations, that victories went uncelebrated. In this time winners would instead gather in dive bars, give each other a nod of recognition, and then quietly ponder whether all the effort was worth it, given that there was no tangible benefit to their victory, while drinking until they puked on the floor. This was not frowned upon as frowning upon things had also yet to be invented, so with no tangible drawback the patterns continued. Then one day, a recent winner entered one of these bars, and just as he went to give a nod of recognition to his fellow winners he slipped in vomit and while trying not to fall his arms flung up in the air. He liked it. So did witnesses. Soon after victories people would often come and stand in vomit and throw their arms in the air, and celebration was born. Six or seven decades later someone pointed out that you could throw your arms in the air without standing in vomit, and the celebration of throwing arms in the air without standing in vomit as we now know it became very popular. 

Gloating 

Winning would be far less enjoyably if you couldn't gloat about it to as many people as possible for as long as possible, but there was actually a time, before the invention of gloating, that winning went ungloated. It was a dark, dark time. So dark in fact that most people had to light lots of fires just to see. People would light fires all over the place, and with gloating over recent wins not an option, people would try to prove how much better they were than others by lighting the biggest fires imaginable. One night a man named ‘Norm Trophy' lit a fire so big that the heat it gave off caused his hair, clothes, face and genitalia to melt off. Upon seeing this, a gold merchant trying to figure out a use for the crappy weak soft metal he'd been digging up, thought 'that guy looks bad ass, but he'd look even better made of gold' and later that night he made a gold, hairless, naked, genitalialess statue, he called it 'the trophy' after its inspiration, and gave the first one to Norm. For the next few years Norm could be seen walking around town holding his trophy screaming, my eyes melted out, but I got THIS suckers. Then someone stole it, and replaced it with a dead shaved skunk, but Norm couldn't feel the difference as all the skin on his hands had been melted too, and he'd lost a lot of feeling. The man who pulled off this heist was very proud of himself, and would tell everyone and with that story, gloating as we know and love it, was born.

Winning Itself

Let's face it, winning without the actual winning would be far less awesome if you didn't win, but there was a time, before the invention of winning, when no one EVER won. It was a horrible period of equality, fairness and utopia. But then one day a coyote ate a frog, began hallucinating, saw an old lady and thought she was a magic walking tree allowing peeing on the move and with it saving more time for random wandering, so it followed her into a bingo center and burped out a frog leg on an old man named Anthony's lap, who yelled the ancient traditional Sicilian word for 'oh gross a coyote burped a frog leg on my lap' which turned out to be 'bingo'. No one had ever dreamed of yelling out the name of the game they were playing before, as it was redundant and therefore unnecessary, and the old folk knew that once people discovered they were unnecessary they'd get skinned to be turned into incontinence pads. Realizing what he'd done, in a desperate plea to not be thought of as unnecessary he ran out of the hall, threw Molotov cocktails into the food supply shed, and as the rats and cockroaches poured out he thought 'my god, the pudding' and fought off flames to grab himself a couple of cups. As he was taken away in the ambulance, burned, smoke filled and oozing diarrhea from eating seventeen year old pudding, he yelled out the ancient traditional Sicilian word for 'please only give the incontinence pads made from my skin to the women' which turned out to be 'Winner'. When word got around the old folks home of his three pudding triumph the desire to be a 'winner' swept the residence, some were so excited by the prospect they peed right into their Anthony skin’s made incontinence pads. And winning was born. It's been coveted ever since.

How to be a less wasteful winner 

Now that we have refreshed everyone's memory on the history I am sure we all feel an even greater responsibility to not be a wasteful winner. Here are some fun steps to help you:

- If you think your winnings will be messy wear a bib, and lick it clean after.

- If you win too much in one day to enjoy it all as much as it deserves, simply vacuum pack some winnings and keep in a laboratory strength freezer to save for a day when you only win five or six times.

- If you come across someone who is haphazard with their winnings challenge them to a duel and win, but make sure the terms are set to 'winner takes all winnings'.

So there you go everyone, you can now go out there and win your heart out knowing that you won't be wasteful with those winnings, and if you ask me that's a win - wow WE CAN'T STOP WINNING!!! 

On the run

Roger was on the run from the law.

'I'm on the run from the law!' He'd say when people asked why he was running.

'Oh really? I always thought that was more of a general spirit, rather than a literal thing' people would reply.

'Huh?' Roger would ask.

'What I mean is that I didn't think people running from the law would be literally running, not all the time at least, I thought hiding in basements, cellars, closets or treehouses would be at least half of it?' They'd re-explain.

'Yeah, you're just being ignorant' Roger would accuse. 

'That's a bit harsh, the tone in my voice is clearly indicating surprise yet also acceptation of new knowledge, no need to insult the state that have just moved past' They'd say, defending their position. 

'Fair enough, it's just that your ideas were so Ill-informed and cliche, no, no it's ok, you're right, we shouldn't chastise reformed ignorance' Roger would accept. 

'I appreciate that, cause yeah, knowledge is learned when it's learned, wait that's a stupid statement, learned when it's learned, no shit, holy redundancy, ha ha' they'd chuckle. 

'Ha ha ha' Roger would laugh. 

'Hhaaaaa haaaaa haaaa' they'd chortle. 

'Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa haaaaa ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaa' Roger would howl. 

'Ha ha haaaaaa ha haaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha' they'd hysterically unleash. 

'Ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaasa ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaasaassass ha' Roger would roar. 

'Ha haaaa haaaa ha ha haaaaa, cough, oh god I'm going to puke, wow laughing hysterically while running is hard' They'd say, nearly choking.

'Yeah man' Roger would reply 'but you get used to it. How come you are out running anyway?'

'My stupid boss wants us to try some new methods' they'd state. 

'Oh what do you do?' Roger would ask.

'I'm a cop!' They'd say.

And that's why Roger is currently hiding in your closet.