Crossroads

John Park-Carr and Parlor Trick Johnson met at the R&D Deli one fine Swedish afternoon for a round of aquavit and a fat-chewing session.

JPC: “What’s new with you, brother?”

PTJ: “Not much, the Magic Johnson impersonation business is still dragging, thought it would’ve picked up by now. Youth sports leagues have gotten savvier at this point–they’d rather get an actual basketball player, even if they’re not a household name, or even in the NBA at all. Turns out people aren’t in the business of taking tips from color commentators at local high school games.”

JPC: “That’s too bad, man. I hope business picks up for you soon.”

PTJ: “Yeah, I don’t think it’s going to happen. I feel fortunate that I have a little nest egg saved up for a crossroads just like this. I’m going to take some time off and figure out what I really want to do with the rest of my prime money-earning years.”

JPC: “You’ve always been a visionary, man. I look forward to hearing about what you’re cooking up. Myself, I’m just gonna keep valeting around town. The money’s decent enough, not like I have a wife and kids to feed or anything. Easy peasy. You know, I did think for a minute about starting my own valet company, being as my name is Park-Carr, for cryin’ out loud. I’m pretty sure that about half of my new client acquisition would just be answering the ol’ ‘Is John Park-Carr really your name? Seems a tad on the nose for a valet guy, no?’ I’m still on the fence about it, as you may rightly understand.”

Regime

Chili leaks all over the seat,
failing to save itself
for a more opportune moment.
At times I’ll see that incontinence
and laugh, comforted
by my own relative regularity.

But when the cowbell strikes 10PM
and you’re losing your marbles
at a steady rate, none of these things
matter anymore. All you can do is
gesture wildly at the skies
with the hope of retrieving
that golden beacon of self-doubt
from the prickly impersonator of human emotion.

He’s been around a long time,
a real long time (if you want to get technical).
His name is inconsequential, for
one must only conjure his essence
to perpetuate his unholy regime.

Telekinetics

The future of telekinetics goes as follows:

Gene Squadron Trowel-Resistant
Pantaloons

Jungle Drapes, Inc.
[A Subsidiary of Jaunty
Enterprises]

Tom Cat Harry and his Grumpy
Shenanigans
[That Silly Old Boy,
He Really Should Be
Put Down]

But Aren’t You a Bob
Marley Impersonator?

Yesterday, 12,000 bees or so
decided to, uh, there’s
no other way to put it, swarm
on my succulent ‘do.
°Nothin’ I could ‘do.®

°Intellectual Property of
The Gideon Partners
[In Perpetuity]