Tuesday, January 12, 2010


Fraught with disaster, our hero put a bullet in his head at midnight.

Finding himself alive after the third shot, he decided God had greater plans for him.

Like eating pizza and watching Seinfeld.

God is mysterious in his capacity for practical jokes.

The steaming hole in my head is only proof.

I walk to the 7-11 to purchase beer and I'm rejected service because half my head is gone.

I plead through a smoking wound in my head "Eht mohny fer beer?!"

The clerk doesn't understand what I'm saying, and even if she did, she's totally distraught by the half of head that is talking to her.

"Eht BEHER!"

No recognition.

I begin to realize that most people haven't had the chance to talk to the half-dead.


She's East Indian and I begin to believe that she thinks I'm Shiva.

This is probably because she keeps exclaiming "SHIVA! SHIVA!"

I try to remember who Shiva is, and realize that I only have three fourths of my brain intact.

Like it's any difference.

I guess I'm not buying beer tonight.

I go back home and stain my bed with my brains.

It's tough falling asleep with no eyelids.

It's even tougher with no eyes. I keep trying to close them, but they don't exist. They're all over the couch.

It's like those people with amputated limbs who swear they have an itch in their toe.

Oh, well.


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