Famous Person
Listen, I want you to sit down when I tell you this. I’ll wait. Make sure you’re all nice ‘n’ comfy and your seatbelt’s strapped an’ everything, ‘cause I’m boutta say some things which’re goin’ to rock your world, baby. Got-damn!
I’m tellin’ you, the country’s goin’ down the pipes, man. I mean, look at the California. Uh-huh. There’s a state. I mean, I remember the last time I was there for a business trip, or something, an’ when I arrived, there were just all these people. An’ — I dunno, I just wasn’t all that impressed. Politics, right?
You know, I keep hearing rumblin’ an’ grumblin’ that it’s about to turn into the Divided States of America. I dunno, but it reminds me of the time my Mah kicked my Pah in the tooter while she was s’ppose to be teachin’ me long division. ‘Cause you know, I was homeschooled all the way from high school through to the elementary, because Pah said normal school would make me dumb — an’ I sure am glad I dodged that bullet, even though most of my friends say they feel like the bullet must still have nicked me or somethin’.
So one evening, we were hunched over the dining room table, an’ Mah was helpin’ me do my homework — which was all of my work, really — an’ I was havin’ trouble doin’ remainders, which Mah told me was like leftovers which I couldn’t eat, an’ I was askin’ her if that was because they had gone bad. That’s when all of a sudden the doorbell rings — that means there’s someone at the door — an’ Mah mumbled something about Pah bein’ drunk all the time an’ stayin’ out too late, but still goes n’ opens the door for him. An’ there’s Pah, stumblin’ ‘round, his dignity propped up with more strength than the rest of him, ‘cause that’s what drinkin’ does to you, it takes all the air outta your lungs an’ uses it all to inflate your ego with instead.
Seein’ as Pah came home drunk again, Mah snapped like a twig an’ turned him right around before shovin’ her foot so far up his poopin’ hole that her strap-on blushed. An’ to this day, if my Pah ever tells this story, he likes to add that her foot went so far up there he could swear her big toe was ringin’ his little doorbell to heaven.
An’ doorbells — what’s the deal with those? I dunno. I mean, whatever happened to knocking? Rap-tap-tapping at the door is a thing of the past, like men with mullets ‘n’ cable TV. Y’know what we could use instead of doorbells, though? I think it’d be cheap ‘n’ easy to make some kind of button, y’know, for pressing? An’ it’s connected to a speaker with Bluetooth or something — y’know, the way everything is nowadays — which makes a big sound, an’ then — hold on one second now, what the hell was I s’ppose to be talkin’ about again?
