Friday, July 10, 2009



Michael Jackson's dead
sadly it took the man's death
to like his music

So I brought in my Michael Jackson collection to listen to today, and maybe it's the nostalgia but I remember loving these tunes and they are still just as classy.

Anyway, back to the story I started yesterday before being so rudely interrupted...

Well with all the stuff I was doing, I needed to eat on a semi-daily basis. This did not bode well for Smeagol's living, which is basically to inhale the farts of others and let your raptor innards detach essential nutrientes from the inhaled flatulons. I don't know the science of it but really if you came here to get smarter you will be very disappointed.

Since the majority of my monies went to gasoline and clothes, it was generally held that Smeagol would ensure there were groceries int he house, since he, you know, worked a full time job. This almost never happened, resulting in my at one point weighing in at around 190 pounds, which is not a good weight for me.

Anyway, you know all of this already, so what is new about this story?

On this particular time, I watched in awe as Smeagol E. Raptor went on the prowl, the prowl for sustenance!

He informed me we were going out to dinner, which annoyed me because if you take the 50 bux it takes to go out to dinner and spend it at the grocery store, you can eat, you know, more than once. This logic was met with a grunt of annoyance, and off we went.

The prowl started off as so many other treks Smeagol went on, with him shifting his automatic transmission into neutral to coast down hills to save gas, then revving the engine at stoplights to intimidate the homeboys with his 1992 Pontiac Grand Am and taking off as fast as the poor v-6 would let him, the whole while saying over and over "Awww shit niggie"...

We get to Mystery's mom's job, and Smeagol pulls to an inconspicuous spot not only to catch her unawares but also because he saw a police officer driving around and wanted to avoid detection, incarceration, and one may assume, penetration...

Whatevs. Like a couple of detectives on a stakeout, we sit, Smeagol watching the door with increasing intensity, possibly using his heightened raptor senses to pick up heat signatures...

We finally see Mystery's mom mosey out, probably after a long, hard day at work (I think she works for the railroad), and Smeagol leaps into action...and tells Mystery to get her. Mystery, the whole time doing that little annoyed spittle spraying "pshshhshst, tsk duh" shit she does, awkwardly gets out of the car and ambles toward her mom, who, like a deer in the headlights, looks at her with full knowledge of what was about to happen, yet powerless to stop it.

She comes back with about 40 dollars, which I again bring up could be used to purchase gasoline for the car and ramen noodles or something until I get paid, and this is met with annoyed grunts from Smeagol and guffaws from Mystery, who I still don't think had any idea what we were talking about.

And so we're off, going to Ryan's to eat, and fuck it it's none of my business, I'd like to say I took a principled stand against such idiocy, but I was hungry and I didn't work that day, so I went.

During the meal, me getting less and less hungry from watching them eat, Smeagol asks how she managed to finagle (finagal? Finland?) cash out of her mom, to which Mystery replies, while I'm eating, "I'm leaking some kind of fluid and I need to go to the doctor>" I push my plate away and wonder if I could get a sharp knife and maybe rupture my eardrums as Smeagol looks at her like she is the dumbest human being on the planet.

"WHy didn't you tell me, you dumb bitch?" He tried to growl, but even angry, Smeagol sounds about as mean as a box full of kittens. Kittens that Greyskull hast already consumed the souls of.

"It's not a big deal, I will just tell them I'm homeless and they will see me for free," she replies, which is both funny and sad at the same time. Apparently her modus operandi is to wear clothes for days at a time and not bathe or bathe improperly in order to receive free medical care from the fine doctors at Truman Medical Center, the only place you can die whilst getting a physical (seriously, I went there to get one for football, and had to tell the doctor what to do. Have you ever told a dude to grab your balls and check for a hernia? Not cool), and had done it numerous times before.

That's it. I have no ending to this story. Smeagol took her, they assumed she was homeless, I hit on a Somalian chick (Muslim and Indian chicks are hot) and got nowhere, and life went on.

Anyway, I would like to end this post with a plea for help for that wily raptor. I know you all want a little more Smeagol in your life, and outside of Will (I seriously would not want to imagine Smeagol trying to go through basic training or being asked to lift a rifle) if any of you know of a job opening please pass it my way and I will see if I can get Smeags hirefied. If you want to tell me about other kinds of openings, please remember I am married, so be as graphic as humanly possible.

Thank you


Bill Wabbit said...

Dammit, I wanted to hook him up! I guarantee you he would fit in great with some of these National Guard fucks....

Stevester said...

Unless the Guard allows 18 hours a day for sleep, booty ass overtime and ensures the MPs all know him by name, I am not sure he would be comfortable there...