Category: Straitjacket: V-17X

Pull tangerine windows out of thin air and ask me for a raise? I might consider it when your cheetah production subsides. I can’t have you bringing large cats into absolutely every sales pitch. That’s just unprofessional, giblethead. Do you understand the bind that puts me in? A lot of those cats are hungry. And what do they see? Fleshy, complacent and delicious humans that can’t even run to the mailbox to get their bills. The last thing these people want to be thinking about is death, you incompetent feline conjurer! I’m giving you another chance, but for Christ’s sake, don’t ask me for a raise in front of my wife when I’m making love to her! You know how uncomfortable that makes her, let alone myself. How do you expect me to perform in such mediocre and ludicrous conditions? Are you going to join in and get this awkwardness over with, or will you just keep staring and pretending you don’t know what you’re doing with your life? It’s bad enough that you asked my daughter out to prom when she was 23. Do you have any conception of what it means to be an average human? You have to do the simple arithmetic that the rest of us do. Six plus seven means you’re an unlucky SOB, and the last thing you should be talking to me about is a raise in wages. We pay you peanuts, and you should be used to that scale by now. No way are we going to upgrade you to carrots or bull testicles, you haven’t earned that distinction yet. Lord, why are you still here?! If I were you, I’d be talking up clients and falsely raising their hopes about an upcoming apocalypse– for your sake and mine.

It’s the positive spin that drives all interaction on a daily basis, but we all know that delusions keep us from maintaining that positivity. Just like last week when I told Joey that I slashed his tires. He picked a big fight with me for no reason. I said hey dude, listen up. I slashed your tires to keep you from driving under the influence when you’re with your lady! He took a couple more swings at me, then finally listened to reason when I slugged him with a tire iron. Sometimes you just can’t help people, you know?

After every meal, I take a spoon and look at my reflection. Sometimes it’s upside down and I frown. Tomorrow I plan to bring an umbrella to the dinner table, to combat the lack of a roof over my head. I knew going into the purchase of my home that a roof is one of the more important things to have, but the realtor gave me such a great deal! I’m not bitter, I don’t have buyer’s remorse. I stick my chin up and catch the raindrops in my mouth. Nothing’s more refreshing than rainwater. The money I saved on this house went into buying waterproof objects of all shapes and sizes. Sure, my fingers are constantly pruny during a stretch of rain, but I’ve found that I can grip things much better that way. I’ve begun testing a hypothesis regarding the similarity of my pruny fingers to the sticky fingertips of a gecko; I think that the longer my fingers stay pruned up, the more sensitive they become. It is my natural assumption that if I live in a constant state of pruny fingers for a decade or so, I may be able to grip onto surfaces (walls, ceilings, etc.) and convey myself in a way that no other human ever has. If you’d be so kind as to leave me alone and come back when I’ve made some progress in this experiment, I would very much appreciate it.

A terror grips me as I skip through the daisies. This particular terror has been present in my subconscious for several months prior to this moment, and as I glance over my shoulder, a bear stands several dozen yards behind me in the clearing. I release all the stress and disillusionment from my being, as I know bears sensing fear will instinctively go for the jugular. Once I go limp, the bear saunters directly over to me. Mind you, there is no malice in this bear’s gait, nor do I feel any ill will emanating from its movements. I stand and watch the bear come ever closer. Foot by foot, it’s taking its time. It stops two feet in front of me and sits upon its haunches, waiting for me to do something. I blow it a kiss and wink. The bear looks puzzled. I giggle for a few seconds. The bear looks more puzzled. I reach out with my right arm, and the bear retreats a few inches before it realizes that I mean no harm whatsoever. It inches up to my hand with its snout and gives it a good whiff. I then gingerly rub the fur on top of its snout, to show my good nature and desire to be friends. The bear opens its mouth: “Never have I seen a human of your caliber in this daisy field. Would you like to ride on my back and go to a pond with me?” I immediately fling myself onto its back and grab hold of one of its ears. Little do I know that bears hate when anyone touches their ears. It yelps in self-consciousness and lumbers away. I shrug and go on my way.

And for the moment I was there, carving out a little place in heaven for the one they call Christy Mathewson. No, not the pitcher, like you’d ever heard of the man. I mean the exact doppelganger who never picked up a baseball in his life. Nope, not once, if you can even believe it. What kind of red-blooded American man never indulges in his nation’s favorite pastime? This particular specimen was more intelligent than average, so his disinclination to engage in sport isn’t chalked up to a lack of wits and determination. No, this man had a keen eye for balance and a genuine panache for the written word.

Dipsy was your run of the mill birthday party clown. He had all the usual apparel–big red nose, rainbow pants, huge shoes, the whole bit. Well, almost all of it. It was on this particular Tuesday that Dipsy would grow to wish that he could afford an automobile. It would only have had to fit him and a couple of his clown buddies (but who was he kidding, he had no friends). He didn’t understand how much he needed to shield himself from the cruel reality of no-good street thugs who could spot an easy target from a mile away. Before Dipsy even knew what had happened, his inflatable wallet and waterproof watch were gone and down the street. Dipsy was by no means a vindictive man, and assumed that these unfortunate souls needed the cash more than he did. He did acknowledge how poor he was, but he at least had a gig to make it to in… shit, he had no idea if he was on time, since they’d made off with his watch too. That made Dipsy slightly miffed, but he still didn’t press charges.