Π

- I'm worried, Mikey, I'm worried big time.

- About what?

- The Big C, buddy.

- Her cunt?

- No, you dummy—Cancer!

- Oh, the other one.

- Everything I drink is diet these days: the juice, the soda pop—you name it.  When I drink green tea, it's gotta be diet.  Blueberry green tea—it's diet.

- But it's got the blueberries.

- Can you believe that?  Diet tea.  Even my water's diet.

- That stuff can't be too good for you.

- I know.  I mean, I think about getting sick so often, now each time I take a sip—What is this one?  Cranberry Pomegranate Purified Water—all I can taste are the chemicals.

- Well, that's two fruits at least.  Why don't you just stick to regular juice, simply orange juice.

- Eh, I heard in a youtube video orange juice, specifically, is one of five top causes of weight gain in seemingly healthy diets.  It was like this 30 minute video, then you had to order the book to find out why.

- Any juice then, or just regular soda pop.

- It's all too many excess calories, buddy. Sharlene, she may have a big cunt, but she wants me to stay thin.  

- Oh.

- Even after a workout when I need carbs, I kill myself in the window period researching good sources, and when time runs out, I always end up opting for the ten calorie sports drink, or Big Gulp Diet Coke with some lemon syrup.

- Carbs make the calories, Chester.

- I know, I scrounge up a couple grams here and there—I don't have the heart to do it all at once—but the 110 or 160, or the motherfucking two hundred and eighty!  I don't know, the label has a big hold over me when I stare at it for too long.  She wouldn't let me, anyway.

- Look, one soda won't kill you, or make you lose her.  Sharlene's a great gal; and in spite of her irrational cunt, she'll understand your concerns.

- Yea, you're probably right...I don't know if I can do it though, natural sugar.  The other day the server accidentally poured me full flavor, and my tongue couldn't get used to the aftertaste.  It's like the chemicals have shocked my taste buds.  I had to throw it in her face.  I ran to the bathroom; I couldn't eat without washing out my mouth.

- What about her?

- Oh, she just left the diner wiping off her face—I can't even drink water and be satisfied.  I'm getting nothing these days if it's not flavored, nothing.

- Which restaurant was it?

- The one on 26th Street, over by the beach.

- Wait, is that the same waitress you threw the breadstick at last week?

- Well I've been gluten-free for two years. 

- Yea, well now she knows.

- That's right, now everybody knows—You got an extra one?

- My last one.

- Pull over; I'll get you a pack, too.  It's cheaper that way.

- Doctor, I did it again.

- You're an arsonist; you're under investigation for the wildfire.

- No, I'm your patient with the eating problem.  I was here last week.  Remember me?

- But it says here in your file...You're on fire?  Oh, I'm on fire!...that was for office use only.  I bought a lot of these sheets from Staples after I passed the test.

- I told you about the cookies in my trunk and you were convinced I was wearing a jacket.

- Yes, of course.  Did you take the cookies with you into the mountains?

- There we go!

- Now I remember, you had a smoking problem, that's what must have started the fire.

- Close, but I don't smoke cigarettes; I eat too much when I can't help it.

- I want to help you, that's what they said I'm supposed to do.  Now will I find any cigarettes if I search through your jacket?  Did you bring your jacket like you promised to?  I'm sure I gave you an assignment.  Yes,  I must have!

- Well, here is a list of reasons why I feel I eat when I might not be hungry; your secretary suggested I make one.  

- This is facinating. Did you get this from the web?  Let me make a copy so that I may memorize it.

- I use it to help me identify my leading—

- Can I make notes on it, or will you be tempted to burn it?  Here, I'll write "Office Use Only."  Now it's official.

- I didn't know you were English? You just changed accents when you said, "Burn it."

- What?  Oh yes, I'm trying new things.  This is only the second note I've made; I'm excited.

- She also said I should ask you not to charge me for your wrong guesses.

- Yes, but I assure you, from now on, I'll just Google it.  Everybody does it; we all do.  Will you be paying in cash? I don't mind uncrumpling it.

God speaks through people like Ralph

He doesn't know God spoke through him.  He thinks it was Armando, the general manager, telling him what to do.  But I know.  And me, I don't really know, but I think I know—and that keeps me going.  

I have a gun.  I carry it with me all day long.  The days I don't have to use it, are days I can get home in time, and continue working on my empire before I'm under the ground.  Some would rather see me burn, and that's their right, I suppose.  My associates urge me to use my gun; they say it's a tool one must utilize in our line of work. Our line of work?  They insist I'm the one that should use it, and they don't even own one.  Heaven forbid, mine jams; I can't rely on them.  All I have is God.  When I'm empty handed, and Armando the general manager sees the cookies have no expiration date and tells him, Don't you buy any cookies from that bum again until he puts the labels on them, all he can do is what he's told.  He doesn't know he's passing me a message from God.

That afternoon around 1:28PM, I ran out of ammo inside the 7-11.  I slowly crept out of the store, and looked around.  It was clear, the weather.  I bit a cookie as I planned my next move.  I'd have to find a Staples, but where?  My mind was as clear as what the CRV might be in this specific city.  I wouldn't beat traffic anymore, that's for sure.  I already had the payout.  I walked away leaving the merchant with a naked package.  Essentially, I ended up stealing that cookie from them, as well, one they had already purchased.  When I realized what I had done, I knew they had every right to call the cops, and I'd have to tell the officers, You're guys aren't the only ones packing.

At the next location, the manager carried a gun.  Tony was his name. Here was a man who knew the aisles.  He was a man's man.  He let me try it on my products, and I went on to the next store; he knew I was for real.

I went through all my stops that way; I let everybody see my face.  When I lastly got to Armando's sphere of influence, I met up with Raphael, the clerk.  He was bald and I tried to call him Ralph, but he wasn't having any of it.  He pulled me aside, beyond the scope of some pansies with their coconut waters.  After a few minutes, we both agreed that I would address him as Raphael.  Then he said, What do you think you're doing?  I'm looking out for you, but I gotta look to my livelihood, first.  It was clear to me that there are rules to this game, this life we choose.  If the cookies have expiration, no problem, he continued, I buy it from you anytime.  I even buy for my daughter,  no samples—I pay you cash.  I have it.   He wasn't fooling around.  No one is in this business.  I told him how lazy I was.  It didn't matter, I knew it was Armando who set forth the stipulations.  Ralph was a good man, a good father apparently.  Expiration dates are special; they have the power to make clerks and consumers alike feel warm and secure.  It doesn't matter what date I choose; I could put my paternal grandmother's birthday on it, but just as long as there's a date and a label.  I'm not that kind of man, to put my grandma's birthday as the expiration date of a cookie.

As Ralph refused the pay out, per Armando's decree, I walked out and knew I was going to be in this traffic alone. My faith in God had been worn and tested all day by the other drivers on the road, people who need to get somewhere over everyone else, and buy their lottery and scratchers.  I had done a few hit and runs to some of Armando's other stores already, left several of his locations with a ticking time bomb of flavor.  Now if I wanted to save my ass and keep him happy, I had to go back, and find some ammo for my gun.

I reached out to God and said a prayer; then I took out my phone and immediately found a Staples location nearby.  When I arrived, Bertha Vasquez informed me she didn't know where they was—she, too, was using her phone.  Then her manager revealed they were backordered.  It was close to four; few cars would let me pass.  When they get to their destination and check their scratchers and it says, "Not a Winner," they take it to heart, then check 17 more times, hoping their fate will change.  I knew where my fate would take me, to the Smart and Final.

At the Smart and Final, they said, Just what you see there, and I said, Where?  They, too, was using their phone.  I left defeated, and returned to my car asking God if he was even there?  I opened my trunk to shove down another cookie in bewilderment; just then I realized I had two sets of guns.  I had earlier absentmindedly stolen Tony's gun.

I returned to Armando's stores like a man on a rampage, with a gun full of ammo.  I gave the kids their expiration date, a good, happy date. Then I returned to Tony's, and left his gun and an apology.

God has always been with me; I just hadn't noticed.  During the traffic ride home, I prayed for patience and tolerance; I prayed to check my ego from feeling too virtuous.  

Clerk exiting

- Welcome to Royal Best Platnium Imperial Green Liquor.

- Yea, give me a—

- Give me?

- Yea, I got money.

- I would assume so.

- I'm paying you for a service.

- I have the right to refuse ser—Hold on, love. (To another customer) Hey, ladygirl, he held the door open for you; say thank you.

- Fuck off.

- Say thank you; you are a good person.

- Fuck this store, and up yours, asshole. (exiting)

- Hey! Hold the door open, because you are great—At least pretend to!  That way you can apologize. Apologies are like candy. 

- (Original Customer) You're refusing me service?

- What's that?  Oh, well, you hurt my feelings, is all.  Here, have a fig—it's nature's candy.

- Buddy, I don't give a fig about your feelings. 

- Yes, you do.

- No, I don't.

- You do, because you are a good person.

- I don't, and I don't care if you think I'm a good person.

- But you are.  Has anyone told you today that you are a good person?

- I don't care what other people think of me.

- Has anybody told you today?  Has anyone kissed you?  Hopefully someone you know?

- No, they haven't—give me a pack of Marlboro Black, please.

- Ah, clever.  But you said please because you are a good person.

- Give me the cigarettes.

- Give me?

- Fuck!

- You're too good to demand anything, my love.

- I'm not your love.  I demand to go on with my day.  

- Never!

- (Enter Owner from his office)  Es incha, es incha?! Ara, I told you, herika khosas!  Quit bothering my customers. Ter Astavats, es porstank mez vortutz?  Verch, you're fired!  Radt kashi stutz! (Clerk exiting)

- (Customer) I'll get the door for you.

- (Clerk outside) Hey, that car let him pass—Where's the wave?  He didn't wave.  Hey, buddy, can I get a cigarette?  I've had a real productive day.

- (Man Smoking Outside) Nope, sorry.

The BPP

- Dave, pass me the file on the new babe.

- Sure thing—just as soon as you give me that eclair.

- What eclair?

- Here.  Now pass me that there eclair.

- (head down, reading over the file) There's no eclair for you; told you already.

- There's two in the box.  I sees it—Earl, can you see it?

- (Earl) There's definitely two in there.

- (Lou) Spoken for.  Wouldn't want you two fighting over it.

- (Dave) That's probably a thousand calories each; come on, Lou, you don't need that much on your plate.  Earl concedes, don't you, Earl?

- (Earl) Had the last of the last batch.  Eh, no shame in letting go...

- (Lou) Wife made 'em for me.  It's not a donut box.

- (Dave) You see that, Earl?

- (Earl) Those are big eclairs, sure.

- (Lou) They're not for you.

- (Dave) Your wife would give me a donut.

- (Lou, still studying file) My wife would give you a donut, and you'd bake her a dozen in my house, in your underwear.  There's no eclair for you. 

- (Earl) He's seems pretty set, Dave... Maybe he needs the calories.

- (Dave) He's a calorie-hog.

- (Lou, studying file) Says here we have to read the perp's blog?

- (Dave) His what?

- (Lou) I'm not reading anyone's blog.  That's on you, Earl.

- (Earl) A blog, like for cake recipes? 

- (Dave) I'll read it; what evidence are we looking for?

- (Lou) No evidence.  Gotta read the jackass's poems.

- (Dave) Poems? For what, clues?

- (Earl) Inspiration maybe?

- (Lou) Oh, everyday, too—you gotta read the jackass's blog everyday, Dave.

- (Dave) What are we lookin'—What are we doing here, Lou?

- (Lou) You check his blog every day; we manipulate the system where he thinks the pageview is coming from her.  He's ecstatic for the day—that's one less day she has to worry about him.

- (Earl) How does he know it's her?

- (Lou) He sees the stat's from the country he thinks she's in.

- (Dave) That's all? 

- (Earl) Is it a small country?

- (Dave) Guy must not have too many visitors.

- (Lou) Meanwhile, we're getting her going.

- (Dave) Where has she decided on?

- (Lou) Oh, and Dave—here jot this down: Babe Dream Alert.  

- (Earl) What's that?

- (Lou) That's when he drops what he's doing and notifies headquarters.

- (Dave) A Babeness Protection emergency, huh? I'll put exclamations on it.

- (Earl) Here, use my red marker.

- (Lou) Earl, and what you can get started on...let's see...here, this eclair's for you: how are you with Facebook?

- Hey!

- Oh, no.

- C'mere, I got a whole dollar—it's a bit crumpled, but it's not like you're going to the deposit it in the ATM.  

- No thanks, I'm all right.

- No, wait—come on, here's another one.  Oh, opps, that's a fiver.  

- That's all right, Sir.  Thanks, though.

- Come on, I feel bad for last time.  Are you thirsty?  Hungry?  You look weak.  When's your next break?  Come on, I'm just kidding.  Have a cigarette with me; it just turned red.  This baby goes on forever.  

- Ok.

- Yea, I know my ramps.

- I bet.

- You need to put your break sign up?

- No, I set my own hours.

- That's what I like to hear.  You know, I've seen you here before—I mean a few times.  I always want to help out, but you know, gotta beat that yellow light.  Here, take this water.  It's clean.

- Thanks... Can I get a light?

- Yea sure... Here, just keep it.  Oh, what happened to your hands? You take a shower?  Just kidding, I mean—

- Yea, actually.  Some man rented a room for one of my friends, but left, and she let some of us sneak in to get cleaned up.

- What happened, the wife called?

- (laughs) Yea, actually.  She said he accidentally dialed and didn't know the call on was on and the woman could hear another girl's voice.

- The scruples on him... Is she hot, your friend?

- I don't know.  We're all out here just trying to get by.  Not much beauty left to be seen living in the dirt.

- Oh, I can see it.

- She's young; I try to watch out for her the best I can.

- Hey, I didn't mean anything by it.  Brain candy, you know?  

- Umm, ok.  Well, thanks for your help.

- Hey...well...eh, nevermind.  Light's on...

adjusting rearview

- Right on, God bless.  Thank you.

- Oh, it's no problem; it's my time to shine.  Here, hold on...(shuffling around the car) ...You probably thought I was getting you a cigarette, or the rest of my apple.  No, hold on; (more shuffling) we're going to take a selfie for my blog...so (groaning) ...so people can see me in action.

- Oh, are you with a nonprofit group?

- Fuck that.  I just want them to see me shine.

- Oh.

- Maybe I can get a shot of me giving you some water.  Here, we'll use this bottle—here step back, you smell too much—it's got a cigarette butt in it but just cover it up with your hand.  Then you can turn in the bottle.  You got a bike?  

- No—

- Ah, it don't matter; you're already by the freeway.  Oh, your finger nails are wicked dirty—that's precious. (Lighting up).  I'll tell you what, run back to the car behind me and see if you can get them to take the shot.  Maybe it'll be a woman and you can catch some down blouse action for your playtime later in that brush—Hey, where do you take care of yourself around here?  You ever find a new girl on the scene?  I imagine the field must not be too big for you as for those of us in society.

- I'm usually too tired, or weak.  The sun's been—

- Yea I usually like to pull over and find a bush for a good jerk.  Some days I'll run riot, find a single gal off the ramp...(adjusting rearview) Who knows, maybe I've even done it in your home.

- You know, here's your change back; I'd just as soon go about—

- Wow, it is a woman—and what a woman!  Let's switch places.  Which ramp has the best dope?

Hey, don't honk at me! I'll buy you dinner.

I don't take it personal anymore when other cars don't let me pass.  Instead I try what has been suggested to me and I pray for them, so I don't fall victim to resenting them for it.  I love it when cars cut me off!  It gives my day some flavor.  Some days, I'll do a bit of rampage myself, if I've had troubled sleep or watched a lot of porn in my sleep, and cut off a straggler or two.  But I keep that in mind, and try to make it up to them later by tracking him down and following him home.  I explain it to my cellmate and he agrees with me, and we both, simply, pray for the judge.

A vision for you

I was on delivery to Long Beach.  Gas had gone up .50 cents all across the city that faithful day.  I refused to get gas, and drove to another city.  I was about to run out of gas on the freeway; I chickened out and said fuck the movement.  I exited the freeway, real smooth; nothing went wrong.  Right turn off the ramp?  No problem.  I got this.  When I saw the prices on the price board, I circled the block a few times shouting curse words at people.  It was like someone had given me a roundhouse kick to the side of the head.  Gas used to be a dollar, man.  No $1.19 or 1.09—a dollar.  Burgers were 25 cents.  Here's a quarter, give me a burger, or I'll have this place wiped out.  

When I went back to the freeway, the ramp was simply closed.  It was like an old girlfriend.  On my drive, I passed the fire department—I pulled over real quick, real proper.   The guys gave me directions to the next girlfriend.  I told them my cell phone was a bitch.  They all had angle blue eyes and a prominent structure like all firemen. They knew I was cool.  

I drove ahead a few blocks, then I made a U-turn.  I drove back and pulled into their private parking, like a hero.  Kevin Arnold was narrating in my head.  I went into their breakroom and left them a box of cookies.  They asked me what I was doing in their breakroom and I tried to overcharge them.  When they wouldn't give me any money and told me to get out of their breakroom, I said it was for free.

Yea I advertise my good deeds. So what?  I got ego and I'm working on it.  Eat me!  That's what my cookies are saying to the guys.  

One alarming thing is I've been ignoring red lights.  Not all of them, just the ones I don't like.  U-turn arrows—I'll look around, if it's no problem, then it's no problem.  Forget about it.  It'll give me a chance to chit chat with cops.  I'll tell 'em about gas prices, and he'll listen.  I'll ask him about his children, and we'll shout curse words at people passing by.

I saw another fire truck with its lovely brigade.  I slowed down and told them I'm not made of gold.  They didn't know what the fuck I was talking about.  I got ego and a dog, and it's all good.

honk honk

- Drive, you old devil!  Don't you know I've found God?!

- I'm sorry, bala jan, my eyes can't see well anymore.

- (aside) Ah jeez, now this lady bat's got me feeling bad.

Chair Lounges back

- Before we get into anything, this project is wholly a personal one.  There's no business behind it, or plan.  I simply want to know that I'll never lose it as it is.  I need natural, and comfortable access to it; and its soul—its design—has to remain the same.  It started as a hobby—it still is—and I've been building it through the years.  It is the most important thing in the world to me, other than my loved ones; but more in terms of what gets me through life. 

- So I take it you don't want to dicuss fees first-hand, hourly paralegal web searches? I know, it's unsavory, but letters my administrative assistants process to Google, paperclips...things like that.

- Sonuvebitch lawyers...(sighs) All right, give me the juice.

- Right off, you made a whopper of an error telling me it's the most important thing in your life.  You don't know my fees, but I can tell you, it's no longer initial.  Oh, the thoughts that are flowing through my mind...Yacht! Now our retainers, we just stopped the presses; and my partner, he's already cutting down a tree.  Retainers, usually we use for medical malpractice cases, you know, during surgery, patient finds an elbow in his torso—but for you, sweet whooo!  Most important thing in my life, What Were You Thinking, my friend...

- I just thought, (head hangs) what if there's a power outage, Blogger goes down, world explodes, a digital catastrophe...I don—

- Sorry, what's that? (picks up phone) Hold on—here, talk to my newborns.  They'll whisper sweet nonsense to you. (Chair lounges back)  I'm going to buy two cities, make each of my children the Governor of the city—they don't know the difference between Mayor and Governor.  You can be on the City Council.  I might wear a robe like Ric Flair.

- Hi, do you have my ID?

- You're here to get an ID?  You lost your ID?

- Yes, unless, well, you have it...

- Me, personally, I don't have your ID.

- Usually when I lose something, I ask my mom and she usually—

- I'm not your mother.

- Yea, you don't even look like her.

- Fill this form out and wait until they call your number.

- Oh, another line?  This one was really long.  I tried to cut but people wouldn't let me.

- Good.

- I know, I tried my best; I brought my mineral water so people would think I'm European, but no one was budging.

- It doesn't matter where you're from.  Here, in America, we have rules.

- I know, I realized that when they wouldn't let me cut—how do you guys know if I'm who I say I am?  Since I don't have my picture ID?

- You need to get a replacement ID.

- Well, what if my double walks in here—anybody's double can theoretically waltz in here and usurp their identity.

- That wouldn't happen; he'd have to know your social.

- Oh, my double knows my social.  He knows my security questions—I don't think he knows my lottery numbers though.

- Sir, there's a long line.

- Oh right: what if one of their neighbors comes in?

Solutions in Deliciousness

- How did you like the samples?

- They were wonderful.  Thank you.

- My pleasure.  Would you like to start doing business?

- Not at this moment; thank you, though.

- But they were wonderful?

- Yes.  My children loved them.  I mean, I sold most of—sure, I ate one myself.  The customers—

- Oh, no, that's not what I meant.  It makes me happy that your children enjoyed them.

- It's our field consultant.  He wants us to concentrate on the promotions and recommended items for now.

- Dollars and figures, I understand—it's business.

- Of course.

- (mutters) I'll choke him with my belt...

- But I'm sure we'll try it some other time.

- Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but if you don't buy these cookies from me right now, I'm going to kill myself.

- Oh, come now!

- No, I'll kill myself.  I'll do it.

- No!

- I'll run down the street, I'll steal a little girl's bike—push her, for dramtic effect—and ride down to the Holiday Inn and...and I'll jump off before security can—

- You'll push a little girl off her bike?

- Well no, not off her bike. She'll try to kick me in the scuffle, I imagine—short thing, she'll only get my leg—and I'll push her away with one arm while I try to balance the bike with the other.  I won't really be looking at her.

- You really believe in your product?

- Of course...for the children.

- Give me a box.

- Ok, but I don't have any left.  The last box went towards feeding some bozo merchant's fat kid. Wretched thing, they're raising a bonafide sugar monster. I just came in to cash out this scratcher.  I'll bring it by next—hold on, (phone rings)...Benito, my favorite Benny!  I'll tell you what I'm going to do, but only because I like you, Benny: I'm going to sell you some cookies at regular price...(walking away)

Night Out- Morning After

(Morning After)

I should have complained.  I would have had every right to.  I should have thrown the bag over their heads, or at their—whatever.  Someone must have known.  You know how once tuna reaches its expiration, you can quickly smell its deterioration in a matter of minutes when it's in your lap on the bus...well, i do.  So I'm walking with the bag over the bridge, And then at some point the wind hit it, and then from there, it couldn't be ignored.  The bag didn't even make it to my house. Some gravy from the makeshift containers got on my pinky and I licked it off, nothing could be salvaged.  All three types of gravy, gone diddly on.  I'm done with Thanksgiving for this year.  To think, I was considering throwing this shit on my dogs to get my money's worth.  Now that would be a rampage you would hear about on the news.  

The IHOP Killer and the waiter who served him, who was on top of his hitlist, who missed work that day due to personal reasons, and who happened to be black.  The Killer, whose name we will not publicize, refered to his waiter in his manifesto as, and I quote, "phony-baloney," and then goes on to rant, "I gave the guy two twenties and asked for change when I could have gave him 25 and ended it, and he saw me consider the 5; obviously, a message had been sent by me that wasn't received by his doddi galogh [That could mean a number of things, Janet; we're not ruling anything out].  Then he doesn't bring me back change until I ask him again, and he said he forgot cause the ice bucket or something.  How could he forget about me when I'm the only—No, how could he forget about me when he was staring at me the whole time? I'll kill that mothafucker, Oh diary!"

- (Janet) What's "mothafucker?" Is that some kind of race—

- (Phil) We're Live, Janet

- (background voice) Party foul!

- (Janet) No, I meant how it was transcribed—Whatever, you guys can eat me.  I quit.

Late for work again.

- You're hot, you're so hot. You're hot, just fuckin hot.

- I'm losing it.

- You're hot. You're hot.  So fuckin hot.

- I'm losing it.

- You're a superstar. So fuckin hot.

- Stop it.

- Hot. You're a superstar.  

- Hey, Superstar, why don't you pull over, so I can get your autograph.  ...Should I make a run for it? ...Oh, no, Officer, I was talking to myself.  Moron, pull over...I thought I was being creative.  That wasn't it...Can I be frank with you?  I guess I can't ever be frank, can I?  Do I want to be frank?

- Listen, if you want to be frank so much, I'm sure that guy in the F-150 knows some people.

- That guy right there?  That guy right there is on the phone with some Mexican singer, planning out his corrido.  I've seen Narco Cultura.  That's a guy I wouldn't want to mess with.  I saw him counting a wad, his big hat, the clothes, and that he's going to be buried with his truck.  Obviously, I put 2 n 2 together.   Everybody knows a guy who can get a fake ID...amateur.  It was funny, I was absent-mindedly staring at him for a while, thinking, he's not crazy.  Listen, I was thinking, we shouldn't be so vulgar, you know, eating ass and the like.  It was funny at the time, but it turns on its head, and then I want to bash my head into a window.  Well, at least I get the compulsion to say it.

- Thank god, that's my beautiful face.

- I don't like the way people are looking at me.  In the mirror, I don't see it.  No more jokes with people today, my mouth's going to be running anyway

- It could be that.

- Yea, it could be that. I'm tired.

- That in-n-out commercial doing anything for you?

- Yea, it was kind of depressing, these people and their voices, i mean they're out hawking a burger while im losing my soul.  A burger can't write poems.  I mean, I'm better than a ...

- Don't look at her.

- She's good.

- Well then for christ sake, don't nod and say she's good in front of the mom.

- Did you see that?  She was wearing an in-n-out shirt.  I couldn't make that shit up if tried.

- Fleetwood Mac.

- Oh yea, what a voice.

- I dunno, see, I don't like the attention in-n-out gets, and I'm not speaking as a soul writing guy, but a burger guy—and I know you like them.

- I've frequented the establishment.

- Yea, they're family owned, and Dave couldn't hold out, and sure if they became a franchise, many people would get rich

- You're reaching into your ass again.

- It's not a burger's burger!  My sister would beg to differ, but she's stupid.  She would beg to differ, but she's stupid.  I mean, how would a vegetarian know what a good burger is?  I'm just kiddong.  She loved in-n-out...yea, she used to wolf that shit down.  Ah, jeez, I'm horrible.  This one time when she first became a vegetarian, my dad and me made fun of her at the same time, it was about some steak restaurant, I said about the same thing, but she started crying.  That was ungood.  I did not like the way that felt.  I didn't make fun of her for that again.  I mean, why would  I? She used to take me to restaurants, pay for me. Obviously, I found new ways to be an asshole.

- Obviously.

- But she's stupid...let me tell you something about your in-n-out...

- It's...

- It's a thousand island!

Still late.

-babe?

hey man you gotta get yours

-babe?

hey man you gotta get yours

-babe?

hey man you gotta get yours

-babe?

hey man you gotta get yours

we can fight it

or we can embrace it

hey man you gotta get yours

-babe

hey man you gotta get yours

we can embrace it

hmm hmm hmm

always making sounds

all of it means something,

at least to us, 

so tired of the persecution

we form

 The Committee of the Crazied

Item 1: Before we start : No Revenge Vendettas.  Yes?

- Can We still bomb the IHOP?

- What did I just say?

- Ok. Well then I would like to point out, that I, received, a check...for a substantial amount of money, disclosed here, look...

- Check it out, Easter.

- Yea.

- What?

- Yea.

- What?

- Yes.  It says "Substantial Amount of Money."

- (sighs, relieved) Okay, go on.

- Every thing is in order, thus far, yes?

- Umhmm

-Umhmm

-hmm

-Umhmm

-Uhmmmm

- Which one of you had a doubt? ...hmm, Which one of you had a doubt but was being cynical?  Open mic's at 6, bozos.  (aside) Watch him, Duke or York, they might be giants.

- Duke of York, please.

- Yes.

- Which one?

- What?

- He's being confrontational.

- He's a renegade.

- You're my girlfriend; I'll buy you dinner.

- Fuck yea! A fight.

- Settle down guys, we don't have confrontations.

- Yea that's why we have those special parking spots.

- What?

- Is that true?

- My grandma has one.

- Your grandma doesn't have one.

- Her grandmother doesn't have one.

- Well, it's true but he's really bending it

- Bendam use to Beckett.

- We're lobbying for it.

- So his grandma doesn't have one?

- No, I've seen the bitch.  She's wonderful.

- Guys! Guys!

- I have a check for a Substantial Amount of Money.

- He's right.

- Check it out, Easter.

- Looks Good.

- It was paid to me, by the guy, and the guy, he did it.  And he wants you to know.

- Well, does he love us?

- I wouldn't want not to be loved.  You can really hurt someone's organs.

- Hey, he's right! You should be President.

- I'm here for the Fight Club.

- You can't just say the name of a group that doesn't exist just cause you want it to start.

- Hey, he should be President.

- I dunno, he seems like he's got ideas.

- Let's kill him!

- Cut the head off the snake right now.

- Guys! Guys!

- Shiiiiiiiiiit...

- Ah, there he is

- He's Smart

- So You're Smart?

- He's Smart.

- Right, guy who wrote the check, right?

- Yea

- This guy always nods

- Well, that guy eats salads.

-  Oh.  Yea—oh yea!

- Salads? I knew it!

- Is he fit?

- Is he dying?

- I hope someone loves him.

- Yea, he's fit.  Why wouldn't he be? He's been eating those—

- We should kill him and his enti—

- Can all of you stop the ceaseless chatter...elaborate, please, He's Smart.

- Your boy's got a lot of lettuce.

- Lettuce!?  I knew it!  I fuckin knew it this whole time.

- Oh, yea, the lettuce goes with the salad.

- I made a salad once.

- You didn't make no salad

- Nah, you didn't make no salad.

- I knew it!  I could just kill him...or love him, you know, whatever you guys think is fair

Afternoon

Let us not make fools of ourselves, let us hide in public and become invisible

- Thats your game plan?

- yea, i think

- no

- lots of stuff is happening

- take the xanax, take some, this is one time impretty sure its medically good

no, i don't think i will,mindon't think think ill take any

you should, lots of things are happening

i like the sound of your voice

you should take them

no, i like the sound of your voice

there's nothing here for you

what's in there for me when im in there?

- You gotta be ruthless in this world.  You gotta be cold.

- So that's your thing now?  You're going to be ruthless?

- Well, I'm going to try.

- hmm.

yea...

hmm...

hmm?

yea

hmm?

How do you think your ego will feel about that

- Well, I'm going to give him new flavors, sacrifices—women.  I'm going to inject some balls into him

-yea?

- and you know...Well I'm not saying he's going to become a basketball player, but you know, he's going to be cold.

-yea..

hmm..

yea...

yea...

yea 

Yea

Do you want me to say a couple things, I ask because, you know...ok.

Later.

Ok, I give in.  Here.  Help me out, Xanax.  Give me peace.

- Well, you can't pray to it.

- And if I drink with it then—

- Don't act stupid.

Hey, let's have a talk show about what he meant by, "Don't Act Stupid."  It'll be me

you

and we get a third party in on this, a cute little chick, 

but here's the thing though,

it has to be a chicken.

I've talked to the executives.

They want the chicken.

Guys want the chicken.

I got this sense they were hungry when i sat down

I forgot, you can't smoke cigarettes on xanax

- how bout chicken?

-ahhhh, i like the sound of your voice

Night Out - Part Two (IHOP)

Restaurant, I command you!  Appear in front of me!

- No, no traction. 

- What do you mean No?

- No.  No traction. We have to go now.

- I knew it when the party-guy told me, the third prince.  

- The black sheep of royalty, in a dive bar.

- The guy with the long hair—no hairy guy requires long hair, especially when he's headbanging to songs that don't get headbanged.

- Do you still require the Del Taco?

-Will you shut up!  I'm self–rea...I'm fuckin Buddha man—hey, do you have to take orders from me?

- Yes.

-Oh man, fuggedaboudid! Let's just hang out.  I got lots of interestings—you can leave them on doorstep, I'm not going to lie if they get eaten—you know if you walk into an established business and pretend you're retarded, you can just walk around the warehouse and they closely monitor you with warm hearts

- Oh, charmed.  I can identify with the ...

-affinity

- Yes, yes  

- of the long haired dude,  Oscar

- of... You know I've never wandered this long talking to products and being ignored...

- What's that you say? Utem kez?    No, don't hold me back, no don't hold me back....she's fucking with me...or at least someone is,

- Hey, clear the asile, this guy breaks down barriers

- I'll kill the sort of them!  Utem kez, huh? (Spits)

- What are these peanuts doing here?  Get them out. He's going to call them low-brow.  Get them out, all of em, yes, honey roasted, yes—what did I just say? Call the cashew guy.

- Cashew guy's not going to like that.

- (another voice) I heard that guy writes poetry about slumber.

- Fuck the cashew guy—call the cashew guy.

- I'll kill the lot of them!  I'll kill all sorts of them

- How's he on chapstick?

-That's good initiative Ralph—Bruce, whatever.

- I've killed a million people.  I'm killing you right now.

- Oh man, he's set

- (turns around) Let me tell you something...

- Oh no, he's dangerous 

-...Bitch

- Oh no

- Boob.

- He might be getting drowsy

- IHOP

-IHOP?

- Let me tell you something,  I eat.  And you get eaten.

- Don't do it, man.  You're too hardcore.

- ...Cause you're so fuckin delicious!

- He did it. He fuckin did it.  I hate him!  I hate him again!  Guy broke out into dance. Cancel the cashews.

- Cashew guy's not going to like that.

- Fuck the cashew guy—cancel the cashews.

IHOP

let me check out the crowd, see if it's trendy enough...oh yea, there's porn and then there's porn.  Half the staff is asleep in the showcase booth.  I don't get how these guys do that, sleep with their heads back sitting upright.  I wouldn't want to be jailed anywhere that doesn't respect the fetal position.

- Coffee?

- Might as well.

I'm going to work today at 7am.  I' done blogging for today.  That's it, I'm done. Something doesn't feel right when it's too much—well, unless it's—look, I like you, but obviously my em dashes, I don't know, are in some kind of disorder.

Okay, that's it!  I know it, you know it...and vegtable lasagna here knows it.  I told guy I wanted to spend a couple hours here, and he gave me a look like Sexy Look #6, but I meant it...well i think i did

Do you want to hear my order at least?

Well, this whole month, I found myself, in some part of me, quietly bemoaning how November doesn't really feel like November anymore.  Halloween hasn't felt like Halloween for some time now, but I've realized it's because I don't watch much TV anymore and people in our neighborhood don't interact much—oh man, my stomach has shrunk, i do kind of have en effective diet, a soup, a soup killed me, the rest is just trying to appeal to lust or imulse—they don't interact much, so...so if they're enthusiastic, it's voluntary.  

November, though—November is November.  Kings were born in November.  Songs have been written using "November" in the title.   November originated in Africa.  People like November, because it's nice.  November is forever a cucumber. And actually, people like saying the word November because it sounds good in their ear.  Albert Camus was born on Nov. 7, i think.  Wrestling pay-per-views take place in November.

And let me tell you something: whatever people say about Americans—oh man, I didn't know bland turkey could have such a noxious odor, I'm wondering if it's safe for the dogs—the French, let me tell you something about the French: Louie went kablooey, my friend. Louie went kablooey.  Whatever you say about America, all is forgiven over Thanksgiving dinner, and then you learn to fall in love again all week through the leftovers—oh man, i know i've been saying oh man a lot but this thing's a nuclear bomb.  It smells like what I imagine liver tastes like.  It makes rotten eggs blush.  I know L.A's full of healthy bland, but I didn't know they were going to make me drink the punch.  I've become so jaded I don't appreciate my food...but not this one.  This one came with an industrial mask.  

I'm not going to complain.  I'm not that type of consumer.

 Anyway, Thanksgiving.  Crazy about side dishes.  Turns out, it's not on the 24th.

I didn't want to waste the gravy.  guy gave me three types of gravy.  i only knew of one.  i opened the box to pour one in as fast as i could, but i had to close it, sit on it, and smile at the waiter

I was walking by a restaurant a couple hours ago Zono Sushi, I think, was where I caught it, and I fear there might be a gas leak..but this fuckin place has a bigger environmental issue.

I should call the city.  I will.  I don't know why I didn't earlier.  Just in case.  I'll just call 911.  Let them deal do some work

Lady, I don't know the street name.  If I knew it, I would have told you the first time...look, it was by the Hooters.  And Zono Sushi, which is next to Hooters, was where I caught a bigger whiff...I think.

Night Out - Part One

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.