Monday, July 21, 2014

The Least Interesting Man in the World

Hello there, squares. What a nice day it was today. The temperature finally got up into the eighties and the warm weather really put some nice color on my tomatoes. It's hard keeping up with the garden, busy as I am. Hah! Ain't that a kick in the pants! Me being busy. The truth is that I have plenty of free time, so much that I feel a little guilty as though I should be doing something with my life instead of sitting in my easy chair with a cold one and my pipe, contemplating the unnerving passage of time. Don't it always seem to just up and disappear on ya? I swear, just yesterday I was a lad with not a care in the world, putting baseball cards in my bicycle spokes and evading my aunt, who always wanted me to paint that darn picket fence. It was a simpler time when I was a kid, you know. Didn't have so many distractions. I tried to use one of those cellular phones everybody has now, and I just couldn't get the ol' piece of junk to work. I've never been very technical, though. I like simple things, like a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer's day, or a nice poodle skirt on a young woman. Bowling, now there's a good sport! Not too complex, bowling. Anybody can bowl.

Did you know that nobody delivers milk anymore? I just can't contemplate why. Always used to wait around for the milk man, though there were rumors about their kind. Mother always said Ralf Jefferson was the result of an unlawful union between the milk man and Ralf's mother. Maybe that's why they don't deliver milk anymore.

I wrote a letter to Jimmy Stewart about a week ago, and the darn thing came back to me in the mail. Turns out Jimmy's been dead for quite some time. See what I mean about time? It gets away from you.

At work today, some of the guys asked me what I did around the place, as though it isn't obvious! Actually, I couldn't think of a straight answer. I don't know what I do at work. I don't even know what my company produces. Is that normal? Is it normal to look at a section of wallpaper for hours on end?

See, these kinds of thoughts make me think that I'm a wacko. Can you imagine! A normal, stand up guy like myself some kind of weirdo who can't even explain to his coworkers what he does! The dark energies which flow through my subconscious whisper immoral designs, and I listen, oh how I listen. Now see that? What was that? Kind of strange, right? I have thoughts like those all the time, that is, when I have thoughts at all.

There's this neighborhood guy named Bob, a sort of seedy fellow who's always trimming his grass three times a week. Today Bob sees me on my morning constitutional and yells me over and pulls me inside his garage. He says he sees me smoking my pipe all the time and so he wonders if I wouldn't like to buy some choice herbs? I shrug my shoulders, trying to be polite, and Bob stuffs a little packet of tobacco in my shirt pocket and says it's on the house. I thought that was nice of him, and my opinion of the man changes, but then I go home and smoke some of that tobacco, and boy, lemme tell ya, I woke up three hours later lying in the bathtub, which was full of Cap 'n Crunch cereal! There was like forty boxes in the bathroom. I don't know what happened, but I swear I saw the Cap 'n wink at me, so I dumped the rest of that tobacco in my garden. The stuff smelled like a skunk, anyway. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life.

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