A short play

Scene: A small office, two work desks facing each other with Joe and Bill (coworkers) sitting across from each other.

Joe: Yeah, I know right?
Bill: Wait a minute Joe... you're actually telling me that you woke up this morning and found out that while you were asleep you had time travelled, what, three to five seconds into the future. That is so weird.
Joe: I don't know. I don't know. I don't think so. I have no idea how to get back, it's like I'm existing on a whole different plane. It's okay I'll clean it up.
Bill: Do you know what happened? (Bill reaches across the desk grabbing Joe's arm) Were you exposed to any cosmic rays? Did you take any joy rides in a DeLorean? Do you know how to get back??? (Bill throws his arms in the air in exasperation knocking over Joe's coffee mug of pens and pencils.)
Bill: I'm sorry about the mess Joe but, this is so weird.
Joe: What!?!? (Joe jumps up from his desk) What are you going to do with that hook??? No, you bastard!
Bill: What is it Joe? What do you see in the immediate future?
(Enter blood thirty pirate with hook for a hand, the pirate walks up directly behind Bill and raises the hook slowly above his head).
Joe: Fuck you, you blood thirsty pirate. I'll get you, Bill!!!!!!!! (Joe shakes his clenched hands in the air).
Bill: What? Joe, what is it??? What do you see? (pause)
(Pirate sinks hook into Bill's back)
Bill: Ackkk
and scene...

I have been reincarnated several times and lived hundreds of lives.

I have been a straightened paper clip in a nondescript executive's office on the eastern seaboard. I was damaged reprehensibly in a quiet fit of anxiety during a conference call with corporate.

I was lichen and I was moss during most of the eighteen hundreds, in a part of the world I know not. I gave myself the name Dr. Tristan McStumbles III and created long, confused medical mystery plays in my little mossy brain.

I was once a banana split sundae with extra nuts and whip cream which was a joy I had never known and now seldom remember.

Terrible begginings from even worse imaginary short stories

"Why, with enough vinegar you could pickle just about anything."

- Grandma Latke's Secret Cellar



"I'm sorry, your son will never be able to blow his nose again... ever."

- COUNTY a memoir by Dr. Tristan McStumbles III



"Sera was beautiful, she smelled like cookies and sunshine, but she was also a troubled young woman. She spelt her name with an -e- (which you already knew) and then there was the herpes."

- Love Blisters

A conversation I've had on the street...

Homeless Guy: Hey man can I borrow a dollar?

Me: Sorry man I don't have one.

Homeless Guy: You're not sorry.

Me: No, you're right. Why don't you go fuck yourself instead.

A conversation I've had at work...

Random guy on the street: Fuck you.

Me: What's that sweet roll? I can't hear you.

RGOTS: I said, fuck you motherfucker.

Me: Why don't you come over here and say that to my face sweet roll.

RGOTS: You ain't going to do shit. I'd fuck you up.

Me: Yeah right, I bet if I was a plate of waffles you'd be all over me, now go back inside and eat something you fat fuck.

16 Sep 2008

Facebook- All the awkwardness of a high school reunion with the added joy that it never ends.

Brian is done with not believing in capital letters.

Brian is, or has, just finished How We Are Hungry and 1776 and desperately wants to watch True Romance and read Truman simultaneously.

Brian is wearing a sweaty white t-shirt and board shorts right now, just in case you were wondering.

21 august 2005

i drove kevin to the airport today at four thirty in the morning. i woke up from liz's and rode my bike home at three o'clock. drinking my dunkin donuts coffee...

i wanted to get on a plane going wherever. the feeling of taking a taxi ride to the airport in the early morning...

i suppose this job changes a person it turns you slowly over time into beef jerky. all the hate and the senselessness and the bullshit.

-the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.
-he who fights monsters might take care lest he become a monster. and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
-
...what a crock of shit

i need a spiritual fuck it bucket. i need a fucking vacation.