Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Smeagol, the man, the raptor

he likes to party
or just go through your damn stuff
wily raptor funk

So JJ calls a few days ago, brimming with news. I knew this news automatically means Smeagol. JJ's first sentence tipped me off: "Hey bitch, Tylester owes me lunch for this!" Which usually meant he had something Tylester would want to know, which meant it had little to do with the economy, apartheid, the crisis in Darfur, or how to run a car on green energy. No, this could only mean one thing......Smeagol!

I informed him that I would take care of his payment (Gates), which seemed to satisfy him. He delved into the tale:

First, my Escort: I parked the hot rod down at my dad's house because they have room for it, and also because we can only have 2 cars where I live because it is a soulless dump hell bent on crushing our civil liberties and causing ED in all who dare oppose it's maniacal march toward an anarchy so completely self-sustained as to not need the ample rays of the sun in order to retain it's uncomfortableness, but I digress. Apparently, random ghetto mofos (that's the medical/technical term) have come by offering JJ money for said car, at which point he feels the need to call and tell me about it, which is pretty much just as annoying as my wife telling me some blond haired blue eyed big titty bimbo thought I was hawt and then laughing because she knows they would be disappointed if I took my clothes off. They both do this all the time.

Anyway the only time JJ's tales of prospective financial uplifting are interesting is when Smeagol asks for the Escort, because apparently Smeagol thinks the only reason I will not sell him the Escort is because:

A - He has not asked me enough times

B - He has not lowered his purchasing price enough. This one is the worst, as apparently he assumes if he lowers his price every time he calls I will magically take his offer so that he does not get down to nothing, in which case I would - what? - have to give it to him free?

C - He has not asked pathetically enough

I mean Gawd, if I tell you "No" while totally not smiling and then turn away from you and vomit because your breath, like Krakatoa in the late 1880s, is hot and stifling enough to blot out the sun, I probably nave no intention of selling you the car. JJ informed me that Smeagol is still telling him he does not intend to take no for an answer, that he is going to make it his life mission to attain the car from me.

Oh, what about his Honda Prelude?

OK he told JJ his last check just barely completely covered the cost, when in actuality he owes about 100 dollars left on the car, and they still will not let him take it off the lot. Another sassy surprise, he informed JJ that when he actually does get said car off the lot, he intends to have it towed to JJ's house, as it does not run very well and he expects JJ to fix it for him. I like his style, he tells JJ he can have the Smeags' Mustang if he will fix it up, and during an ice storm throws both JJ and his girlfriend out in the cold, her being 8 months pregnant, and now wants JJ to fix his car for free, after taking the 'Stang JJ had put 700 dollars into and selling it for 300 bux.

I know that sentence was convoluted, but I am not a writer so screw it.

Also JJ informed me he was at Smeagol's apartment and found out Smeagol had gotten a new career opportunity. That wily raptor was asleep on the couch, curled up like a pretzel letting his balls take the breeze, and JJ was trying desperately to find food that was not tainted or from Taco Bell and thus 3 weeks old, when he saw it: laid out on Smeagol's bed, probably in a kid's size: A McDonald's shirt. Sure, sure, it may have been from a Thrift Shop, but next to it, like the bloody glove next to a menstruating corpse, was a McD's hat. The nametag, I am going to assume which says "Raptor", was still affixed to the shirt.

Now, before I go on, there is NOTHING wrong with working at McDonald's. Every one of us reading this is one pink slip away from that kind of desperation, except me and I can get a job back at the Firm because I have a diploma in communications skills. No, the funny thing is Smeagol tried to hide it. I will let you know exactly which McD's and what his schedule is soon, so you can pay him a visit and watch him make your burger.

So let's bring this post to a close, with a very short leap in logic. Smeagol lives in a very cheap apartment (I think like 400 bucks a month), only eats when he is at his mom's house, has a job at McDonald's, and is trying to drive a POS 1989 Ford Escort. Is it just me, or is he actively devolving? Will he go back to wearing diapers and shitting himself? Apparently he already has the no teeth part down flat. The stealing video games, movies and assorted entertainment media also points to his attempt to return to a youthfulness once lost. If he feathers his perm and starts wearing Def Leppard logo shirts and leather Thriller jackets with the sleeves scrunched up, would any ladies who readify this blog take him up on his proposition of love? Speak out!

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