More crap I put on Facebook. Just a bunch of little dialogues. Enjoy?
“Do you ever take anything seriously?”
“You should really start.”
“I just shit myself.”
“What about that guy?”
“He looks like the type of guy who finds The Big Bang Theory funny.”
“Doesn’t look smart.”
“Exactly. Probably watches Will Ferrell movies and listens to rap. Thinks he knows the plight of the black man because he listened to a Kendrick Lamar album. I bet he writes raps and thinks they are so clever. Dreams of being the next Eminem.”
“Go ask him.”
“I want to see if you are right.”
She stands and walks to the male’s table. Has a seat across from him.
“Yo,” he says with a nod of his head.
“Saw you sitting here and I don’t know, what do you want to do with your life?”
“I write raps. You know express my inner being.”
“Right…you hear the new Kendrick Lamar?”
“Yo, that shit is deep, yo.”
“Jesus Christ,” she stands and walks back to her table.
“Were you right?”
“I should be a fucking fortune teller.”
She looks up and the male is standing by her table.
“Thought maybe I could call you sometimes.”
“You don’t need to put an s at the end of sometime. And no. You cannot.”
“What the fuck girl? You come over there mess with my head like that?”
“Why you be like that?”
“Cause the sky is blue.”
“Man, fuck you bitches.”
He storms out of the coffee house.
“You made that thug cry.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell his parents all about it.”
The two girls laugh like there is no tomorrow.
“People need to stop worrying about if Jesus loves them and learn to love themselves. The world would be a much happier place.”
“Aren’t you worried about going to Hell?”
“I really don’t care which hotel I stay in when I’m dead. Dead is fucking dead. I mean what’s the difference? In Heaven you get complementary towels. In Hell they don’t leave a mint on your pillow. It’s like choosing toothpaste…tartar control or whitening…same shit different label.”
“When people pray before eating is that like a one shot deal? What happens if you interrupt them? I mean what would the purpose serve if you could just bless it like a million times?”
“If you try to start again the face of Jesus appears before you…kind of like in Jurassic Park when they are trying to restore the power but Nedry put that program the keeps saying, ‘Nuh uh uh’ and won’t let you go any further. You just have to hope for the best.”
“That’s the part where Samuel L. Jackson says, ‘Hold on to your butts’.”
“Yeah sure. Why are you asking me this? Do you pray before you eat?.”
“Nah. What’s the point? Thank you Jesus for this delicious meal? I get it if you worked for that meal. If you hadn’t eaten in like a week and had to kill a bear or something. If you had to struggle like a fucking caveman then yes, praying before you eat is justified. Cause that’s a real thank God for this fucking meal. Going to McDonald’s…shit all you had to do was open your wallet.”
“I saw, I don’t know, some weird Jesusy teenagerish guy pray before eating a pop tart a few days back.”
“You know what pop tarts are right? They are a metaphor for rebirth in Christ. You unwrap this pastry. Sexy little beasts that they are all you can think about is putting your mouth all over it. But you can’t yet. I mean you could but it’s kind of powdery, a little strange, like it’s been through some shit. So you put it in the toaster where it stews in that firey abyss. Remembering all the sinful things that it did in it’s short life. It’s then the torture ends. It atones and pops up a little slice of heaven.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Oh no…I’m done talking to you.”
Internet: So I see you’re doing a little writing…that’s nice.
Me: Oh thanks. Took me a few minutes to get in the swing of things but it’s going pretty well.
Internet: Well gee…that sure is swell. Let me just shut myself off so you don’t have anymore distractions.
Me: You do know that the program that I started writing this on is web based and requires an internet connection.
Internet: That’s just an excuse so you can watch some more cat videos.
Me: No, It’s really not. I kind of need you right now.
Internet: Don’t care! Bye!
Me: Damn you Tom Jones!
Tom: Hey chap, what you blaming me for?
Me: Well Tom, if your songs weren’t so soothing to my soul I would have been paying more attention to getting some writing done before the internet decided it wanted to be a dick.
Tom: It fucked right off, didn’t it lad?
Me: Yes Tom. It fucked right the hell off.
Tom: You know…that’s not unusual.
Me: Go to hell Tom.