There came a startling knocking sound…
“That’s odd,” I grumbled to myself. “What the hell is that?” I looked around and it seemed to be coming from a mysterious object I had once named, at random, a “door.” Found upon the door was a piece of spherically-shaped metal which I brilliantly intuited could be used to pry the bloody thing open.
Gazing through the gaping portal I saw a most hideous thing standing on the go-away mat. “What the hell are you?” I gasped.
With an eerily familiar voice it replied, “I’m you from the future.”
My mind reeled. “How far in the future?”
“Tomorrow, to be exact.” God, it sure was ugly. It looked irritated and menacing, too. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Once inside it looked around the living room as if with the eyes of a child. “You’ll have to forgive me,” it said. “This sure brings back memories.”
By now I was feeling pretty damn irritated. My normal routine had been severely disrupted. “I’m feeling damn irritated,” I said. “You’re severely disrupting my normal routine.”
For a second it lost it’s composure. “Don’t you think I know that?!” it snapped ferociously. It took a deep breath and slowly exhaled then seemed to go limp in resignation. After an awkward silence, it finally continued. “I’m here to help you,” it said softly. “To help both of us.”
“Go on,” I barked.
“A few minutes from now,” it said ominously, “something is going to happen. Something completely out of the normal. Something disastrous. I’m here to stop it.”
Suddenly I noticed a gun in it’s hand. That’s odd, I thought lamely to myself. We don’t own a gun. What the hell had happened to me?
Bang. The gun went off. I fell to the floor while clutching my stomach in pain. He had shot our most prized possession. He had just shot our LCD 42″ flat screen TV.
“You son of a bitch! You die!” I screamed as I felt my life oozing away. “Why??”
“Poor little idiot,” he said, literally looking down on me. I couldn’t help but notice he was starting to twinkle, almost as if he was slowly dissolving away. He smiled.
He looked at his dissolving hand in wonderment. “It worked, it worked,” he said, forgetting the question that was currently pending on the floor. Then an expression of fear gripped his hideous face. “At least this time.”
His expression changed to one of resolve then went soft as if he had reached some sort of climactic decision. “What I’m about to say may end the space-time continuum as we know it, everywhere, everything, but fuck it. It might be our only chance.”
“Shut up!” he hissed. “We have very little time.” By now he was about fifty percent translucent, much like the time I had tried to Photoshop a profile image using a real picture of my own face.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said to himself, ignoring me completely. “I never watch broadcast TV. I never even turn it on. I hate the commercials. I avoid it like the plague. But I was supposed to be working. So, yeah, I guess that might be how it happened.”
He turned and looked me in the eye. “I turned on the TV,” he said. He was starting to scare me. “I did it on purpose. It was showing the CBS morning show. God help me, I don’t know why, but I watched.” I was stunned to see tears streaming down his face. “They called it ‘Note to Self.’ Oh God, why did I watch?”
He was almost gone now. He sparkled like a glinty trick of light and I had to lean and strain to hear what he had to say.
“Don’t do what I did. Don’t ever, EVER,” he hissed, “make the mistake of watching Note to Self. It’ll be the death of you.”
And with that, he was gone.
Dazed, I slowly got to my feet and swayed. Wow. What a trip. And what an idiot. How the hell was I going to watch anything with a bullet in my TV? And how the hell was I supposed to avoid doing real actual work?
More importantly, who was going to clean up that mess of ectoplasm where the bastard had been standing?
Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-do
I have another puzzle for you
Oompa Loompa doom-pa-da-dee
If you are wise, you’ll listen to me
Who do you blame when your kid is a brat?
Pampered and spoiled like a Siamese cat
Blaming the kids is a lie and a shame
You know exactly who’s to blame
The mother and the father
Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-da
If you’re not spoiled, then you will go far
You will live in happiness too
Like the Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-do
(My emphasis added.)
Like I’ve always said, parents are the absolute worst people to have children.
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Back after a one-year hiatus it’s the Shouts From The Abyss 2012 Christmas Gift Giving Guide! I know you’ve all been waiting with baited breath to see what’s at the top of my list so let’s dive right in. Is that okay with you, Sugarplum?
I promise it’ll be more fun than a black hole.
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I often say, “They walk among us.” I don’t think, not even once, I’ve ever meant that as a good thing.
That phrase can pull down all sorts of duty. From time to time its been employed to describe a wide range of people from those too stupid to be alive to those who steal anything that isn’t nailed down and everyone in between.
Today the word “they” refers to the “overly defined boundaries” type of people. These are people who aggressively live life exclusively on their own terms. No matter what. They have no “give” in anything they do. They make no compromises and they make no bones about it. They do things exactly how they want, always, and everyone else can be damned.
Heaven help you if they decide you are in their way.
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Oh yeah. Residuals. I now will feck you up with a spirited rendition of an a cappella performance piece I wrote while on vacation. And no, it wasn’t in Wyoming. That’s just an unfortunate naming coincidence.
I have to admit, this is one of the crappiest songs I’ve ever written.
Make the jump to view the video goodness. Enjoy!
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Before we begin, I have to ask: How do you think my headline writing skills are coming along? 🙂
I have no issues with golf, other than it’s boring and it’s a sport. (More on the latter coming soon.)
So today we have a news report regarding two douchebags (golfer Corey Pavin and reporter Jim Gray) arguing about a third douchebag (whoring phenom Tiger Woods). And, get this, their fight is about a fucking game. Not just any game but one where you hit a little ball with a stick and try to get that ball into a little hole.
Pay attention! We’re talking about important shit here, people!
Seriously I don’t know if any of them are douchebags. I don’t know these men personally. I’m taking a little artistic license here based solely on behavior. They all just might be wonderful human beings. (Somehow I doubt it.)
So which one is the liar? Without being there it’s hard to say. It’s one of those douche-said douche-said type of situations.
That’s pretty much all I have to say about this topic. Read the link to the story if you still crave additional details. As always I’m simply performing my function of providing a breath of fresh aire and giving important news items of the day much needed context.