Hey, it’s Matt Kaye here and you’ll have to forgive me if this entry is a little off kilter. I am tripping my balls off and just need to get back to the States.
I thought after being fired for shooting up my office with a pellet gun, I should take some time off and find myself. What do I really want out of life? Who am I? What’s this I hear about eclairs making you speak like dolphins?
So, late one night I find myself meandering the streets of Csepel, Hungary in search of a good psychic. I just needed someone to explain the difference between lactose intolerance and fried clams when I came upon this photography studio.
I was mesmerized by the disco lights and thought maybe they’d have some gum. God, my forearms are sweaty. There’s got to be a better way to vacuum! Damn it, man! Get your shit together.
Leisel here found me snapping to the beat of a little ditty I sing to myself when I am losing my shit and asked if I wouldn’t mind posing with her and her lamb-dog. She needed a photo for her holiday cards and wanted people to think she had a boyfriend. Plus, she said, it might give me something to stare at besides mt Tivas™.
“Quick, put on this holiday sweater, this holiday sweater vest and this holiday scarf and try not to look so fucking weird,” she drooled.
I had nothing to lose. And just as the flash went off I could hear the elves coming for me. Those tiny little fuckers had located me and were going to kill me. I could feed 2-5 of them for 3-4 weeks depending on exactly how little they were and if they could find shrimp forks for their diminutive hands. If they ate me face-first, I’d still be able to hear them while they giggled and told Leno jokes like broken hyenas. GODDAMN IT, PEOPLE! I need space! Back the fuck away and let these lollipops find their way home!
I miss you, Margie and I never meant to hurt you. If I don’t make it home and no one ever finds me again, the cheese is in the shed and I was the one that stole the money out of your purse, not the cleaning lady. I swear to God, it was me. We shouldn’t have slapped her in front of the kids. Sheila is ruined. This I know for sure. Give her a kiss on the elbow for me and tell her even though I didn’t want her at first, I have learned to like her a little.
I NEED STEW WITHOUT BEANS!!!
Written by: Stirling Gardner