Friday, April 13, 2007

Out of its wooden brain grotesque ideas


Merchandise dies, but a jingle
lasts forever. Trust me, I intern in
advertising. Fantastic? Pssh. More like ass-
tastic. If this place was classy it wouldn’t
need a sign that said so. I’ve never seen
anyone read a magazine like that: sassy,
sassy, sassy. You don’t know much about
adventuring if you don’t know reaching
Land’s End means more than a slog through
a catalog. Is that the oven timer or the smoke
detector? How can we get started on the Next
Big Power Play if we waste the day playing
Iron Chef again? We’re all out of garlic, though
a stake through the heart would settle the score.
I remember your plan for more s’mores than before.
How can I work w/ people who believe someone
actually lives at the “home of the perfect
steak”? Since I appointed you Master of the
Imperceptible even the details of the details have
details. Nanodetails, hence: a font that drips
blood. Our campaign posters are taking
over our homes, streets, & places of business.
Irreconcilable differences are why we started
this club. Unlike you I’d never be mistaken
for a high school student from Spokane.
I get no kick from champagne, I’ve got no
patience for constant references to your
“urge to herbal.” I don't want to be
buried under a rhododendron planted
in loving memory of Mother. I’d finally
smothered the flames on my pant leg,
but then you set fire to my favorite
song. That wasn’t the sign we agreed on:
three sharp snaps in a Z formation.