The Shockuation Room

Anywhere-

A cute girl and a reasonably amazingly good looking guy start talking. They enjoy talking. They decide to hang out. Then do things as in: going out to eat, going to the movies, taking walks together, and stay up lateS.

They soon made it Facebook official, which everyone in the world means that it’s like chiseling it into a rock, somewhat like the Flintstones. Yeah, it’s that official.

Far be it for the guy to know that the girl had been texting her head off with a random dude. She was strangely waiting for the relationship to fall apart.

His name was Normal Richards and her name was Julia Martinez.

They were relatively close in age. They liked some of the same things, but both were very stubborn, which made it difficult and made it seem when Normal tried to get Julia to watch something he liked or listened to some music he like that she had already made up her mind that this isn’t for her.

Normal put up with constant hours of country music. And for Normal this was unNormal.

Listen:

After a bit things got weird. Normal started to notice Julia drifting away. Her getting mad at bizarre things. Her ignoring compliments bestowed upon her by Normal. Her all around treating Normal like a very dirty diaper that smelled full of Indian food mixed with poop and topped of with that horrific smell of whatever your upstairs neighbors just made for dinner.

Normal realized this. It had happened before. Pulling away and such, he let it happen. It didn’t work out, he tried other things, like buying her mood rings. He bought her a cow so she didn’t have to buy milk. He thought it was a good idea. She didn’t think so. He would hug her, she would think it was weird.

So, he backed off completely. He resigned to his resign chair and played the Carpenters, “best of” no less.

Yeah, they broke up. Within 48 hours she had a new boyfriend, Normal was shocked. Julia was pumped. STRAIGHT TO FACEBOOK OFFICIAL STATUS!

Normal had a trick up his sleeve as Julia had a guy waiting in he wings for the break up, Normal had a robot. It was a sweet robot. It talked in a robot voice.

He constantly told it to call Julia and tell her to fuck off and he would in a very robotic way. Normal LOVED IT!

And that’s why when you start a relationship and you’re a dude, have to have a robot back up.

And we all know girls have guys waiting in the wings for as soon as they break up they have a rebound…”THAT THEY LOVE EVEN MORE, HE’S JUST SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUN.”

Not as much fun as Normal’s robot! I trust normal on that one! “BAM” was the last thing Normal said to me. The robot repeated… “BAM, exclamation point.”

JAMES DUST

First off… Charlize Theron is one of the most beautiful people in the whole wide world.

Now… Let’s get down to business.

This movie is like if you took Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs, threw that away, added Lord of The Rings, Narnia, Return To Oz and Twilight together. I’ve never seen Twilight, but she looks the exact same and why would that cast her as snow white? I mean yeah, she was with some vampires for a while, but come on. She is sort of terrible.

Anyway, it’s entertaining if you are ready to experience what I explained above. However, if you are trying to watch this movie without waking someone up, good luck, as the sound goes from near mute to atomic bomb decibel.

Go quickly into the night.

In an apparent demonstration of “everything bad that can happen, will happen,” the universe has placed a needy, self-involved neighbor right across the hall from recently single woman, Holly Swiss.

“This always happens to me. I break up with someone, I move, I want to get my shit together, and I end up right next to an incessantly talking woman who never wears a bra and has like 30 small animals in her apartment. And they ALWAYS want to hang out with me nonstop,” said Swiss.

Swiss’ new neighbor goes by the name Snooze and has knocked on Swiss’ door to hang out approximately 24 times in the four weeks that she has lived at her new residence. “I feel bad because I think she’s lonely, but for the love of god. The other day she texted me to hang out and when I said no, she just called me up instead and started talking about all these people I’ve never met.”

Swiss stated that another time when she ran into her neighbor in the hallway, Snooze stated that if the building is ever burning down that Swiss should bring a sports bra with her when she’s fleeing the building for Snooze to wear. “I don’t wanna be one of them crazy, braless people you see on the news! LOL!”

“I mean, she actually said ‘LOL’ in real conversation,” said Swiss. “I can’t live like this. Last night she asked if I wanted to come over and eat chicken wings with her and when I said no, she actually got mad at me.”

(This is a continuation of Taffy Hawkley’s series on Port Authority)
PITTSBURGH, PA – In a further attempt to get people to just stop riding the bus, Port Authority is hiring people to poop on buses to maximize discomfort.

“On my way up to the front of the bus to tell the bus driver that I was going to pass out from a strange smell, I saw a woman wiping her butt with a coupon booklet,” said Tina Delfunkis.

Delfunkis stated that bus driver, Al Kowzintski, pulled the bus over and opened the doors, threatening to go no further unless the offending passenger exited the bus.

“When he opened the doors, I just got out and started
walking,” said Delfunkis. “I had my Roethlisberger jersey on and I didn’t want it getting all stinky.”

The woman who pooped, who wishes only to be revealed as Delores, said that Delfunkis’s response is exactly what they were trying to accomplish. “I was out one day on the bus wearing sweatpants and rollers in my hair and I was on the phone cussing out my cousin for being a dumbass when I was approached by some bus officials. They said I looked like the type of person that would shit my pants for money, and I told them they came to the right person!”

Delores further stated that if enough buses were shit on, ridership would decline and the impending bus cuts would effect fewer people.

Director of Strategic Implementation, Ricky Dickerson, stated that their plan has been a success. “So far, 23 buses have been shit on, and ridership is down 18 percent. This way when we completely cut all the buses later this year, it won’t even be that big of a deal!”

Somewhere, Florida-

NEWS! I KNOW IT! SOMEWHERE!

As always there was a smell in the air. A wind of change, a singular cloud that floated effortlessly through the sky, if you looked closely, it screamed, “News.” To the untrained eyes, it was nothing, just a sky floating over the Earth that had too many life-less, brain-less idiots thinking of only themselves, it didn’t matter, nothing did. Not to them.

A couple of weeks ago, I had shaved my beard clean off. I thought of shaving it off and leaving a mustachio in honor of our silenced Oliver Pepper. We had no idea what was going on with him. He hadn’t used his credit cards in days, but he was with a strong and large Ethiopian troop of hard gazing, massively armed, cocaine snorting mo fos.

Anyway, wow. I can get off track.

Listen:
There is a planet known as Ramfranuunkel. Things there taste like a garden, what garden? Shhhh.

Deep Breath.

Down here:

Little poke… just a tiny bit of pressure, I know, it’s ok… You can’t get away, once you get the look, you’re already hooked.

Next time, please ask for the girl walking down the hall. Please ask for her, please ask for her.

The planet Ramfranuunkel is located in Strato-3 in the Galactic globe of universe four. Ramfranuukel is a tiny planet that sustains and supports life easily. Creatures don’t die here, they decide when they want the big sleep and here you can wake up from the big sleep.

Then that part becomes the big dream.

During the big dream you start to know new friends. They don’t have to exist, nothing has to exist if you believe hard enough. I am slightly tired right now so I have shut my right eye and I am succeeding in feeling that my right side of my head is plain gone. Now it’s open. I have a whole blurry head.

Anyway on Ramfranuukel there is a hidden secret, all creatures envy it, and it’s you. You are the best kept secret on the entire planet. Envied and spied on with wicked, wanting eyes. Nearly everyone has gotten used to it, besides, Glanz: residing there also demanding to be in a garden, fed grapes and bananas while semi-tanned, semi-pieced of clothes girls, with Martian eyes wandered and served.

(Let me let you into a little secret)

They have the best damn garden hoses I know, they water plants, small kids drench themselves until semi-clothed girls begin wandering near the children. That’s the only draw back, all the women wander, ready to give grapes or pack lunches. Mom’s do this too, but they must be labeled as moms by the eye that holds the secret hammer head creature who summons small stars into or near its atmosphere. By stars I mean 1940’s 1950’s or 60’s Bombshells like LAUREN BACALL AND Sophia Loren. Others include the sun, it got warm there during the period they call fake global cooling. K. West made a motion picture about the ill effects about being so ill.

Whatcha sayyyy mmmmm watcha sa eeee

Now: Let’s get serious. And physical.

Mostly serious, mostly.

K…………

Whatever, back to Florida.

There was a dude, there still is a dude, his name was Eric Hipungel.
He is 31 years of age. On Earth and on Ramfranuukel he would be the same age.

The satellite of news moved the Shockuation’s Antenna and that’s why I was here. Of course I had to explain my reasoning of showing up at homes to tell people, “I totally know what you’re thinking of doing, let’s talk about it.”

That takes a moment for the obviously shocked person I’ve shown up at their dilapidated or beautiful home.

I ran by how he had became so lonely and striking out in the means of girl: just so pathetic with meeting them, ANYWHERE, at the bar or church, or walking down the street, sitting on a park bench reading Vonnegut. Going to the zoo, sitting by himself at cider mills and pumpkin patches, he would see girls, he would talk to them: get their numbers, text them, send messages on facebook and when the time came to actually hang out: HONEST TO GOD THE GIRL DROPPED OFF THE PLANET OR PAID PEOPLE TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN. Make her just disappear, cut contacts, done.

Men can’t do that, well, at least Eric couldn’t.

I had been in Florida for a few days now getting to know Eric and realizing that it really was bad luck instead of method. Eric was starting to give up and only talking to his cat. I tried encouraging him and one night it worked!

It was a Friday:

It was this Friday night that he flirted harder than he had ever would in his whole life and surprisingly he would ask a lady if she would mind spending an evening at his home. She said yes, he had planned ahead, even more surprisingly, he had rented a chick flick and was being rather comforting to this lady, this lady’s name was (who was worth this much work) Kelli Star. She was long, lean, athletic, had brownish, blondish hair that flowed just like all the movies made the girls hairs’ look. However, she did it herself. She was not all about herself and that is why she said yes to Eric. The topping on the cake for Eric, she was about three inches shorter than Eric, perfection. Perfection. That’s all he could think about. Perfection, no mistakes, perfection was the only thing he had built this into. He couldn’t see anything going wrong with this date.

We will read on won’t we?

The date was on the verge of floundering quickly. His food was immaculate. Gordon Ramsay would have thrown wild compliments at him. So, that was not that problem. However, the dialog, if you were to call it, that was dicey and I’m being polite. Eric had prepared the food and atmosphere, but had not prepped himself for the conversation part of the date. He had been talking to himself so much lately that he didn’t know how to communicate with other people besides: hello, good bye, thank you, sorry, you’re welcome, excuse me, how are you, I’m ok. And so on.

So, dinner went like this.

Kelli loved the food. Couldn’t believe that he actually had made this. She expressed this with words that floated freely flowering into the bright light of Eric’s formation.

Eric said, “Oh, you’re welcome. Thank you. How’s it going? I’ll be right back,” as he grabbed the dirty dishes and hustled with his head down into the kitchen.

Kelli, so confused by the rapid succession of phrases, couldn’t decide if she should follow him into the kitchen or wait at the table. Kelli sat there with perfect posture that she learned at a proper dinner etiquette course her mother had forced her to do when she was eight years old, she hadn’t forgotten any of the errors that would cause her to be smacked across the hands. After about three minutes she pushed her chair away from the table quietly and tip-toed into the kitchen.

There she saw Eric, ablaze, on fire, frenzied with rinsing dishes, singing softly, slowly, the lyrics to Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters.

That was an odd combination Kelli thought. She said apprehensively, “Need any help, Eric?”

Eric jumped two and a half feet into the air. Eric loved basketball, thought I would mention that. “Oh, hi, how’s it going, I guess if you want to put the dishes into the dish washer after I rinse that would be great, but I don’t like to have a woman work in the kitchen on the first date.”

This was the first humorous thing that Eric had said all night! Kelli let out the cutest, sweetest laugh Eric had ever heard.

This disarmed both of them.

Eric nearly melted into the sink from the laugh.

Kelli rolled up her sleeves and joined Eric, putting the dishes into the dishwasher.

Eric was starting to regain some of his vocabulary, but obvious slips that showed his lack of speaking to real human beings were evident.

Kelli asked Eric, “how long have you been living here?”

Eric replied nearly trembling from the difficulty of putting together a sentence to an actual living creature besides a cat or for that matter me, who made it very easy on him. “Oh, about six months or so, how’s it going, how close do you live from here, hi!”

Again, Kelli, not sure if she was drunk or just hearing Eric sputter greetings mid-sentence, gathered herself for a response, for whatever reason she saw something in Eric, I couldn’t tell you what. He wasn’t good looking, however he wasn’t the elephant man.

Like I said, Kelli gathered herself, took a deep breath and began, “I don’t live far from you at all. I really like your apartment, maybe I can show you mine sometime, I think I would have to order something in because I couldn’t compare to your cooking abilities.”

Eric blushed as bright as Rudolph’s nose or Santa’s rosy cheeks.

Kelli noticed this, she thought it was cute. Thankfully she didn’t mention this to Eric or he would have been slightly crushed.

Let me in on what LITTLE I know about girls, “cute” is not a good thing. It’s typically one step above what girl talks about small things, like flowers or babies or when a boy is dressed up bringing up flowers during the wedding and is half stumbling, but doing it with all his might. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and hugged her and gave her a tiny kiss on the check.

She said please call me in a couple days I would like to hear from you and get together.

Eric was pumped.

Eric called in a couple days as asked by Kelli, Kelli answered the phone dejectedly. “Hi Eric, I am sorry, but I am seeing my ex-boyfriend, he has promised things would be different and I really have to give him a chance. I’m sorry.”

Eric tried to keep his despair under control. He said “I understand, good luck.”

Eric cried. I called him immediately.

How are you doing?

Not well.

I had that feeling. Do you want me to come over and talk to you.

“No, sorry, how’s it going, sorry, be right back, how’s it going, I gotta go.”

Ok. See ya.

Eric went to the store. He bought a two liter of Pepsi and a liter of vodka. I knew all of this.

He started making very strong drinks. He looked toward his tv. He sat down. He then stared at his drink. He drank it down. He then stared at his cell phone. Things were going to get bad.

He picked it up. He began the drunk texts.

Hey Jess, you up? How’s it going?
(No response)

Hey Ann, how’s it going?
(No response)

Hey Ashley, what are you up too?

Eric, I have three kids.

“Oh yeah, sorry, how’s it going, k bye.”

Hey Jennifer how’s going?

I am married and live in Arizona.

He called three or four more.

He gave up three his phone again a couch, turned on the tv, and drank the rest of the vodka.

I didn’t get to talk to him, but it was all recorded on the Shockuation room’s satellite and antenna.

I felt his pain.

Poor Eric… Poor Men in general.

James Dust

All of us here at the Shockuation Room demand you use this company!!!!

http://www.facebook.com/avci.nettechteam?ref=ts

GO THERE NOW

Yes, yes, I know. It’s Coyote Rush. Now let me calm you down, take a seat and hush. I don’t care what time it is go ahead and let yourself be a lush. Slush it goes when it rains down into your brain, you’ll need a cane to get home after the seventh long island in a smokey haze.

OK, that was my instantaneous rap song. Sorry. It was bad. Once, I start doing something it’s hard to stop.

Like my dear colleague and friend James Dust said, yes, I have been playing minesweeper quite a bit. It’s a fun time, expert is so annoyingly hard though. I had never tried it before I was 16, my ex-girlfriend taught me how to play. Isn’t that sweet?

“I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.'”

Kurt Vonnegut said that. Actually his ‘good’ uncle said it.

I believe it to be extremely wise.

We are a society of instant gratification. Needing things now. NOW. NOW!!!!!!!!!! What’s next? What are we doing now? What, you’re just going to sit and watch a documentary? Wow, you’re a loser. I got to go do something. I want to have a buzz now! I need to get a girl NOW! Oh, she has a bf, that’s cool. Oh well. Oh, she has a VD that’s fine I’ll wear two condoms.

“The condom is the glass slipper of our generation.”
-Marla Singer: Fight Club

No, you don’t. Pick up a book and read it. Lay on the floor and coo with a baby. Rub a dog’s belly. Sit next to a piano and pound out awkwardly pronounced chords.

Slow down.

Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. I heard that from John Lennon, I’m fairly certain someone said that or something similar in the past. It doesn’t matter that’s where I heard it.

It’s true.

That old saying, take time to smell the roses. Also true.

Slow down.

Anyway, the story is what I mentioned above. Now let me tell you a little story of what I saw yesterday or maybe the day before, or maybe it never happened.

Somewhere someone, let’s call him Rick, sat about all day. Jobless, girl-less, friends dwindling like water slowing swirling down a drain, and not having much to do.

He sat around. He thought a lot. He hadn’t seen a person in three weeks. He lived in Wyoming. One of the most god forsaken places in the world.

No one had called him. No one had texted him, no one had stopped by his house. He hadn’t ate in six days. Drinking water in copious amounts. Enough that if someone did care about him, they would warn and remind him of water poisoning in which he would reply, “Yeah, that’s pretty much impossible, but thanks for reminding me.”

He suddenly had a thought. “Why don’t I go outside?” He hadn’t been outside in ten days. He looked out the window and it was gray and raining. His mood slipped farther down the slippery slope.

The Shockuation Room’s antenna had picked up this man’s sadness. I I knew how he felt because of my funk. Only wanting to play minesweeper and smoking pall malls when I don’t even smoke. I had found myself asleep on top of my computer’s keyboard more than once very recently: drooling like some type of swamp beast.

I knew that by pulling him out of his funk I could do the same for myself. So I hopped into a 1994 Buick and drove out there. Isn’t it funny how we’ve never said where the Shockuation’s location is? AHH HAAHAHAHA. That’s how funny.

I drove and drove. I knew that Rick would be freaky deeky dutch when I got to his double wide. It took me two days, I slept in the car, drank water and ate beef jerky.

I pulled into his driveway, even his driveway and trees seemed to be depressed.I knew I had my work cut out for me because of the way I had been feeling, he had been feeling even worse.

Feeling sorry for myself that I had let vagrants into my office and sleep in the basement in exchange for helping around the office. Food, sleep, housing, a place to clean up and social interaction. Plus, plenty of coffee and smoke breaks. I knew that was what they needed, but it only made me happy for a couple days.

Before I walked to his doorway, I got out of my car and looked at the sky. It was beautiful blue, it was partly cloudy and the clouds looked like cotton balls or misshaped marshmallows, not good enough to make it off the assembly line’s wheel. It didn’t matter, it cheered me up almost instantly.

Slow down.

The human race is not actually a race. It’s not a competition. I know, I am competitive about everything: silly arguments, why it is ok to drink pop, how isolating yourself can be a good thing, tennis, basketball, information about sports, what team needs to draft who or what position, seeing potential and talent, trying to understand people, being liked the most, being the funniest, being the wittiest, being the best looking, being the best at taking care of people, being the best at showing my empathy, being the best at blending in with people like a chameleon, being the best at having fun and making people happy, being the best at giving advice, being the best at listening and gaining knowledge or wisdom and finally the worst one of all, being the most listless, helpless, depressed, mellon collie individual you can see, then suddenly snapping out of it and being the most extroverted person happy to the point of slapstick in the world and no one understanding me. Far off topic, but thanks for hanging in there.

SLOW DOWN.

Ricky ticky had seen my white old beat up Buick. I am amazed that it works as well as it does, but that’s another jaunt off topic.

I saw him peeking around his blinds trying to figure out to be scared or happy to have someone show up at his house, even if it was an uninvited stranger. I gave him the Vulcan sign, Spock’s I come in peace sign. I knew Rick would get it.

He rushed to the door in excitement yet, a tinge of apprehension was visible. He greeted me.

“Hello stranger!”

“Hey Rick.”

“How do you know my name-”
I interjected quickly: “Just don’t go there, I know. And know how you’re feeling, that’s why I am here.”

“Oh” he said more sheepishly than a sheep could ever dream to be. “yeah, I’ve been kind of down lately, not myself.”

“I know,” I said with a humble face.

“I think we need to do something together. Forget about the last few weeks and just go have a grand shindig.”

“YEAH! That’s exactly what I need to do, wait, would you like something to drink? I have all sorts of booze, in the fridge I have milk, orange juice and Pepsi?”

“You know Rick, I haven’t had a glass of milk in a long time. What is the expiration date?”

“It still has three days left.”

“Yup, pour me a drink of milk. Thank you.”

“No problem at all, what should we do today?”

“We are how many miles from Cheyenne?”

“About eight miles, I believe.”

“Let’s get into my car and go there right now.”

“But, I haven’t showered in days.”

“That’s ok, put on some deodorant and spray yourself with air freshener. Then hair spray the heck out of your hair.”

He followed the directions. He smelled like ‘Soft Rain.’ And hairspray. Which was fine. I knew he needed this. I sprayed him with my special pheromone spray that I don’t break out only on special occasions.

As we arrived into Cheyenne, I heard wonderful strings and harps playing. I asked my co-pilot if he heard it too. He had. Something magical was going to happen, I knew it. It was going to defunct our funk.

For whatever reason there was a parade. But: there was no other floats or tractors or cowboys, or little children throwing candy. It was all for us. I looked over at Ricky Ticky and he had the biggest smile on his face. Women were lined up all along the street with signs that said Ricky Ticky. It was memorizing. I swelled with happiness.

There was a police officer waving us into our destination parking spot. I put the car that didn’t live up to all this excitment, but it didn’t matter anymore. We leaped out of the car and the crowd roared! Cowbells rang and fireworks exploded every where. Beautiful women rushed to us and carried us in their arms to the best drinking location in Wyoming. We were crowd surfing.

Rick was so happy he had to rush to the men’s room.

All his drinks were on the house. He asked why and the beautiful babies say we missed you Rick. All we want is for you to stop being a shut in. Don’t you remember all the awards you won in high school, don’t you remember being the all time leading scorer in basketball?

Rick said he remembered, but thought that he was hated for it.

I shook Rick’s hand and told him he would have no problem getting home tonight. He said thank you and I said, thanks for the beer. I need to go home. I needed to beat minesweeper, on easy. Then sleep for three days. I did. I thanked God that I was alive and happier. I only hoped that it would continue tomorrow and the next day. We will see.

Stay Tuned-

Coyote Rush

Somewhere in the WORLD-

The Shockuation Room’s antenna was finding news like crazy after a mild slump in spring and the beginning of the summer.

Every time the antenna finds news it plays the beginning music for a new level of Mario. Don’t ask me why, we didn’t even program it. It’s comical yet we realize we need to rush to action. We assign people different jobs.

I.E. “Pat, you stay here and drink copious amounts of coffee, then clean the bathroom, Ashley, do not look up pornography again, I am aware you haven’t had a girl interested in you in a while, but come on man, do that on your own time. Coyote? Coyote?”

“What?”

“Would you like to come?”

“No, I need to beat Minesweeper set on its hardest setting.”

I understand, without Coyote we would have nothing so when he wants to stay in he can.

Anyway! News!

I just remembered I promised all of you a detailed analysis of serial killers and mass murders, but that is far too serious for the time being, it will happen. You just will have to wait my friends.

And so on.

Let’s try this again.

Wait, how do we have the money to actually afford employees to sit in our office and do things? I don’t understand. We are basically broke, we have to send counterfeit papers, monies to anyone traveling across to Europe or Africa or even up the street for some soup and sandwiches.

I thought about this more before I jumped into complete action. I suddenly thought about how Coyote had a brand new beautiful finished bathroom in the basement, I remembered full sized beds being moved in by sweaty over weight movers. How could this be related?

My mind swirled. My body got bumps of geese. I heard that swirling noise, the sound that comes in waves, almost like turning on a industrial fan and the motor starts slowly. I passed out.

When I awoke, I was on my back. I had been given a pillow and blanket. Again I don’t know where they came from. I saw faces that again, I’ve never seen before. They all had name tags with our logo on it. I thought, is this real life or have I made my life into a dream. If it’s a dream does that make life a dream? Or is life a pause in between dreaming and reality? These are things that I think about on lonely nights when I feel the only person I can talk to is myself.

Sorry this story isn’t about me.

Anyway, I got up quickly, straightened my clothing, walked into Coyote’s room and asked, “Where the hell are all these people coming from?”

“I thought you would be able to figure all this out on your own. But, I am afraid you are not. All of these people are single individuals that are broke and have had their house foreclosed on. I have offered them a place to sleep, eat, shower and socially converse with people close to their brain levels. I did this in exchange for the work they do. Some clean, some make counterfeit bills, some pose for magazines just to make us extra money. Sometimes I send them to your house and have them whisper news into your ears all night.”

“You send them to my house?!”

“No, that was a joke, you think about news too much anyway, when is the last time you have played minesweeper?”

“Eerily, I couldn’t remember, had I lost touch of what was fun and what was work? Was I coming home so wound up about news I forgot how to have fun?

It’s been a while Coyote.”

“Take the day off from news, play hearts and minesweeper, maybe solitaire, checkers, chess, hell play go fish.”

So I did, sorry news.

-James Dust

Climax MI-

I picked up the news with the: Shockuation Room’s Antenna which is: hyper-sensitive, super advanced and finally ran by super computers bigger than those from WWII. Giant rooms are necessary to hold these behemoth machines, we had to start squatting on the office next to us that had been abandoned for a long time. We knew, because of our great knowledge in real estate, but also the law. Anyway we knew after a while it would become ours. We moved epically large computers in there. It took 23 of us, ropes, ramps, Arnold Schwarzenegger and so on. I was sitting back sipping on lemonade: shouting encouraging words, whist lounging in most comfortable chair in CLIMAX, maybe the world. And as they were moving the monstrosities, I broke in to song, almost on accident, but it made so much sense. “It’s gonna take a lot to take me away from you/there’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do. God Bless the Rains Down in Africa.” Fitting song to people moving 4,780 pounds super computer, which for whatever reason were shaped like parallelogram, see quite the fitting song as they get those damn super computers moved.

Whoa! Sorry! Side tracked.

The story was not about super computers with their parallelogram shapes.

It was about a man, a man that had been giving an ultimatum. The man’s name was Spruce, yes like the tree. Spruce Morning Due. I held back the laughter and kept my sunglasses on as I met him on his front porch. He had a wonderful house. Spruce told me he had so much money that it didn’t matter what he did anymore. That sounds depressing, but he was saying this cheerfully.

He had three children, two females one male: Moon Star Due, Love Me Due, William Passed Due, they all called him Bill. This was starting to become too much for me. The puns I could make, the laughter I could have all by myself was freaking me out. I said I forgot something in my car, excused myself, walking briskly to my car I opened the door got in, shut the door and blew up in a fit of laughter bordering on mania. I said to myself, “Whew, whew, I’m ok, ok, no,” FIT OF LAUGHTER!

Anyway, after a couple minutes I came back in with my favorite pen. “Ah, please forgive me, I am a little superstitious about having this pen,” I said. (It was a complete lie. I found this pen on the floor at the Jewel in Chicago. The Jewel is a grocery store!)

“Ok, let’s get down to business. You’re wife, Julia Ibid-Duh Due, has given you an ultimatum, is this correct?” I said to Spruce.

“Yes, I don’t understand what the issue is, she keeps telling me to grow up. I see no reason how I am not grown up I am 34 years old, and we have an amazing house, pool, tennis and basketball courts. What’s wrong here?”

I couldn’t quite agree or argue with him because well, his house wasn’t exactly like it appeared. It was a hologram of a beautiful house. Sometimes you don’t know when Science Fiction turns into real life.

It looked great, but strangely everything wasn’t truly real. I went to set on the couch and he quickly grabbed my arm and said, “Oh, no not there.”

“Why?” I asked.

Because you will end up on your ass.

OK. I said. Why?

Hologram. He said.

Slightly confused I followed the marriage that was held together by a piece of chicken wire to the back room of the house and it was nice. I could actually sit down there.

So, again, Mrs. Julia Ibid-Duh Due, what is the problem?

“Spruce won’t stop playing video games.”

I said, “Does that mean he plays like twenty four hours a day or like just likes to play video games?”

Julia Ibid-Duh Due: “Well, he goes to work, plays with the pets, spends time with the kids, keeps me satisfied, in, well, I don’t know what kind of a website this is so we will keep it at that.”

I thought to myself. What is wrong here. I couldn’t figure anything out.

I asked her again. “So, Ms.Ibid-Duh Due, what is the Ultimatum?”

“Either he stops playing video games or I am asking for a divorce. Me or the games!”

At this point Spruce leaned back in his office chair with a massive glass that I assumed from smelling across the room was Cherry 7-UP and vodka he took a long gulp of it and began, “So, you want me to give up video games? While you go buy new shoes and shirts and dresses and go out to eat with your friends just to keep up appearances? Also, why do you love Monster Energy drinks so much? You have a tattoo on your butt of the logo. You want me to grow up? That hardly seems to be balanced. If that is your ultimatum then I will take it.”

Go back to your old name, from this one, Julia I bid you a due: to Julia Poopydoopy.

Go for it.”

She hunkered in her chair. Realizing that video games are something that someone should never be forced to get rid of. They do not rot your mind. You do not miss important events because you need to do one more thing one you XBOX 360. You do not shoot people because you played a game in which you shoot people.

People that shoot people do so because…….. This post is long enough. I will get into Serial Killers in my next post. That is a promise. It won’t be funny. I apologize. This probably wasn’t funny. However, it is a warning. Girls, do not take away guys games. Don’t say it’s part of growing up.

Think of all the growing up you need to do before you point fingers, as I point a finger back at myself realizing and knowing all along that I have a great deal of growing up to do. I will continue to grow up until I die. Remember that. Because that’s the truth.

I heard her saying that he could play video games and she would play too as long as they didn’t get a divorce as I was walking out the door.

-James Dust