Somewhere, Florida-
NEWS! I KNOW IT! SOMEWHERE!
As always there was a smell in the air. A wind of change, a singular cloud that floated effortlessly through the sky, if you looked closely, it screamed, “News.” To the untrained eyes, it was nothing, just a sky floating over the Earth that had too many life-less, brain-less idiots thinking of only themselves, it didn’t matter, nothing did. Not to them.
A couple of weeks ago, I had shaved my beard clean off. I thought of shaving it off and leaving a mustachio in honor of our silenced Oliver Pepper. We had no idea what was going on with him. He hadn’t used his credit cards in days, but he was with a strong and large Ethiopian troop of hard gazing, massively armed, cocaine snorting mo fos.
Anyway, wow. I can get off track.
Listen:
There is a planet known as Ramfranuunkel. Things there taste like a garden, what garden? Shhhh.
Deep Breath.
Down here:
Little poke… just a tiny bit of pressure, I know, it’s ok… You can’t get away, once you get the look, you’re already hooked.
Next time, please ask for the girl walking down the hall. Please ask for her, please ask for her.
The planet Ramfranuunkel is located in Strato-3 in the Galactic globe of universe four. Ramfranuukel is a tiny planet that sustains and supports life easily. Creatures don’t die here, they decide when they want the big sleep and here you can wake up from the big sleep.
Then that part becomes the big dream.
During the big dream you start to know new friends. They don’t have to exist, nothing has to exist if you believe hard enough. I am slightly tired right now so I have shut my right eye and I am succeeding in feeling that my right side of my head is plain gone. Now it’s open. I have a whole blurry head.
Anyway on Ramfranuukel there is a hidden secret, all creatures envy it, and it’s you. You are the best kept secret on the entire planet. Envied and spied on with wicked, wanting eyes. Nearly everyone has gotten used to it, besides, Glanz: residing there also demanding to be in a garden, fed grapes and bananas while semi-tanned, semi-pieced of clothes girls, with Martian eyes wandered and served.
(Let me let you into a little secret)
They have the best damn garden hoses I know, they water plants, small kids drench themselves until semi-clothed girls begin wandering near the children. That’s the only draw back, all the women wander, ready to give grapes or pack lunches. Mom’s do this too, but they must be labeled as moms by the eye that holds the secret hammer head creature who summons small stars into or near its atmosphere. By stars I mean 1940’s 1950’s or 60’s Bombshells like LAUREN BACALL AND Sophia Loren. Others include the sun, it got warm there during the period they call fake global cooling. K. West made a motion picture about the ill effects about being so ill.
Whatcha sayyyy mmmmm watcha sa eeee
Now: Let’s get serious. And physical.
Mostly serious, mostly.
K…………
Whatever, back to Florida.
There was a dude, there still is a dude, his name was Eric Hipungel.
He is 31 years of age. On Earth and on Ramfranuukel he would be the same age.
The satellite of news moved the Shockuation’s Antenna and that’s why I was here. Of course I had to explain my reasoning of showing up at homes to tell people, “I totally know what you’re thinking of doing, let’s talk about it.”
That takes a moment for the obviously shocked person I’ve shown up at their dilapidated or beautiful home.
I ran by how he had became so lonely and striking out in the means of girl: just so pathetic with meeting them, ANYWHERE, at the bar or church, or walking down the street, sitting on a park bench reading Vonnegut. Going to the zoo, sitting by himself at cider mills and pumpkin patches, he would see girls, he would talk to them: get their numbers, text them, send messages on facebook and when the time came to actually hang out: HONEST TO GOD THE GIRL DROPPED OFF THE PLANET OR PAID PEOPLE TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN. Make her just disappear, cut contacts, done.
Men can’t do that, well, at least Eric couldn’t.
I had been in Florida for a few days now getting to know Eric and realizing that it really was bad luck instead of method. Eric was starting to give up and only talking to his cat. I tried encouraging him and one night it worked!
It was a Friday:
It was this Friday night that he flirted harder than he had ever would in his whole life and surprisingly he would ask a lady if she would mind spending an evening at his home. She said yes, he had planned ahead, even more surprisingly, he had rented a chick flick and was being rather comforting to this lady, this lady’s name was (who was worth this much work) Kelli Star. She was long, lean, athletic, had brownish, blondish hair that flowed just like all the movies made the girls hairs’ look. However, she did it herself. She was not all about herself and that is why she said yes to Eric. The topping on the cake for Eric, she was about three inches shorter than Eric, perfection. Perfection. That’s all he could think about. Perfection, no mistakes, perfection was the only thing he had built this into. He couldn’t see anything going wrong with this date.
We will read on won’t we?
The date was on the verge of floundering quickly. His food was immaculate. Gordon Ramsay would have thrown wild compliments at him. So, that was not that problem. However, the dialog, if you were to call it, that was dicey and I’m being polite. Eric had prepared the food and atmosphere, but had not prepped himself for the conversation part of the date. He had been talking to himself so much lately that he didn’t know how to communicate with other people besides: hello, good bye, thank you, sorry, you’re welcome, excuse me, how are you, I’m ok. And so on.
So, dinner went like this.
Kelli loved the food. Couldn’t believe that he actually had made this. She expressed this with words that floated freely flowering into the bright light of Eric’s formation.
Eric said, “Oh, you’re welcome. Thank you. How’s it going? I’ll be right back,” as he grabbed the dirty dishes and hustled with his head down into the kitchen.
Kelli, so confused by the rapid succession of phrases, couldn’t decide if she should follow him into the kitchen or wait at the table. Kelli sat there with perfect posture that she learned at a proper dinner etiquette course her mother had forced her to do when she was eight years old, she hadn’t forgotten any of the errors that would cause her to be smacked across the hands. After about three minutes she pushed her chair away from the table quietly and tip-toed into the kitchen.
There she saw Eric, ablaze, on fire, frenzied with rinsing dishes, singing softly, slowly, the lyrics to Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters.
That was an odd combination Kelli thought. She said apprehensively, “Need any help, Eric?”
Eric jumped two and a half feet into the air. Eric loved basketball, thought I would mention that. “Oh, hi, how’s it going, I guess if you want to put the dishes into the dish washer after I rinse that would be great, but I don’t like to have a woman work in the kitchen on the first date.”
This was the first humorous thing that Eric had said all night! Kelli let out the cutest, sweetest laugh Eric had ever heard.
This disarmed both of them.
Eric nearly melted into the sink from the laugh.
Kelli rolled up her sleeves and joined Eric, putting the dishes into the dishwasher.
Eric was starting to regain some of his vocabulary, but obvious slips that showed his lack of speaking to real human beings were evident.
Kelli asked Eric, “how long have you been living here?”
Eric replied nearly trembling from the difficulty of putting together a sentence to an actual living creature besides a cat or for that matter me, who made it very easy on him. “Oh, about six months or so, how’s it going, how close do you live from here, hi!”
Again, Kelli, not sure if she was drunk or just hearing Eric sputter greetings mid-sentence, gathered herself for a response, for whatever reason she saw something in Eric, I couldn’t tell you what. He wasn’t good looking, however he wasn’t the elephant man.
Like I said, Kelli gathered herself, took a deep breath and began, “I don’t live far from you at all. I really like your apartment, maybe I can show you mine sometime, I think I would have to order something in because I couldn’t compare to your cooking abilities.”
Eric blushed as bright as Rudolph’s nose or Santa’s rosy cheeks.
Kelli noticed this, she thought it was cute. Thankfully she didn’t mention this to Eric or he would have been slightly crushed.
Let me in on what LITTLE I know about girls, “cute” is not a good thing. It’s typically one step above what girl talks about small things, like flowers or babies or when a boy is dressed up bringing up flowers during the wedding and is half stumbling, but doing it with all his might. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and hugged her and gave her a tiny kiss on the check.
She said please call me in a couple days I would like to hear from you and get together.
Eric was pumped.
Eric called in a couple days as asked by Kelli, Kelli answered the phone dejectedly. “Hi Eric, I am sorry, but I am seeing my ex-boyfriend, he has promised things would be different and I really have to give him a chance. I’m sorry.”
Eric tried to keep his despair under control. He said “I understand, good luck.”
Eric cried. I called him immediately.
How are you doing?
Not well.
I had that feeling. Do you want me to come over and talk to you.
“No, sorry, how’s it going, sorry, be right back, how’s it going, I gotta go.”
Ok. See ya.
Eric went to the store. He bought a two liter of Pepsi and a liter of vodka. I knew all of this.
He started making very strong drinks. He looked toward his tv. He sat down. He then stared at his drink. He drank it down. He then stared at his cell phone. Things were going to get bad.
He picked it up. He began the drunk texts.
Hey Jess, you up? How’s it going?
(No response)
Hey Ann, how’s it going?
(No response)
Hey Ashley, what are you up too?
Eric, I have three kids.
“Oh yeah, sorry, how’s it going, k bye.”
Hey Jennifer how’s going?
I am married and live in Arizona.
He called three or four more.
He gave up three his phone again a couch, turned on the tv, and drank the rest of the vodka.
I didn’t get to talk to him, but it was all recorded on the Shockuation room’s satellite and antenna.
I felt his pain.
Poor Eric… Poor Men in general.
James Dust