Narrator
Two Thursdays ago
wading through the mud puddles of 124th street in Manhattan I crossed
paths with a man whose life was in a shopping cart and he stepped towards me and
asked –
Homeless guy
what’s the utility
of happiness?
Narrator
I laughed in his
skeletal face and said –
James –
Nope!
Narrator
knowing full well
that he did not just ask me that and I gave him a dollar and he looked surprised
because he probably didn’t ask for that either. Better keep on walking, can’t
expect wisdom from someone who don’t even have a home. To be wise you almost
certainly need some sort of a hat, most likely an assortment of hats and where
would a homeless person hang them? You show me a wise man without a hat and
I’ll show you a man who can go fuck himself. I met up with an old friend by the
park; I just met him a week ago, he’s turning 92 in a couple weeks and I’m going
to take him to the bars and roll him a fat blunt for the big 9-2. I ran up to
Doc, that’s what we called him because he always wanted to be a doctor but then
in 1939 he was convicted of not a small number of crimes after it was discovered
he was channeling funds and medical supplies to Emperor Hirohito, but we call
him Doc as a joke, so I ran up to him and he goes –
Doc
the homeless get
crazier and crazier.
James
I know what you
mean, Doc. Sidewalk’s movin again.
Doc
Ah hell, third
time this week, ya just gotta stamp it out, like when a rug bunches up, it’s all
air pockets ya know. Have I told you about –
James
Yeah yeah I know,
air pockets are responsible for what we perceive as gravitational force, you’ve
told me.
Doc
I spose I did. Ya
know why no one knows about the facts about air pockets?
James
NASA?
Doc
Because of NAS-
oh, yes, that’s right.
James
Listen, Doc, I
gotta take off, I’m meeting some Trotskyites for a scrabble tourney downtown.
Doc
So long sonny,
keep fightin the good fight,
James
Don’t have any
other choice -
Narrator
I said and
sprinted down the street.
James
Look, there is no
way I’m giving you points for ‘cub bazi,’ it’s not a word.
Trotskyite
listen you
motherfucker it’s an Iranian stick dance, ok? I told you, it’s a folk dance,
it’s a big part of their fuckin culture.
James
It’s Iranian,
foreign language, doesn’t count.
Trotskyite
It’s been
Americanized as part of the lexicon used in the ethnic dance scene you faggot,
it is the people’s word, not yours, you bourgeois rat!
James
You think just
because you believe in permanent revolution the scrabble rule book gets thrown
out the window?
Trotskyite
The scrabble
rulebook is the enemy of the people! We have nothing to lose but our chains
that this rule book binds us in!
James
Alright, I’m
leaving
Trotskyite
Traitor!
Narrator
I once used
quaxtan in a triple word space and earned 205 points but the points mean nothing
because the whole thing was built on a lie. I left the Trotskyites feeling
depressed and not worth the price of my own opinion. Gotta keep fightin though,
right doc? I’m fightin I’m fightin.
James
Hey, Officer
Remian!
Officer
Yes son, can I
help you.
James
listen, if no
one’s said anything to you yet, I should tell you that the sidewalk has moved a
bit from time to time and, I didn’t want to say anything, but the fire hydrants
have been telling racist jokes that have made me very uncomfortable.
Officer
Jokes sure are
funny, son. Are you feeling alright.
James
You want me to
wear a fucking wire don’t you! Nah, I aint gunna rat on the hydrants, grab
yourself another stoolie, copper, this canary won’t sing.
Officer
Aw yeah, sonny?
Maybe dose wings of yourz need a little clippin, then…
James
You don’t got the
guts, copper.
Officer
I’ve got guts in
places you aint never heard of, sonny. You think you’re tough, do ya? I put
Capone in the slammer for the rest of his life, see, you don’t think I can dance
the dance with a no-good punk like you.
James
Capone? Yeah I
heard of im. But let me tell you sumtin, coppa. Capone’s got nothing on me.
[tommy gun is
fired]
Officer
The
roses…they’re…guns!
Narrator
I got the fuck out
of there I was scared and I pissed myself and I was crying but then I
remembered, Francine was going to meet me at 4 oclock and it was already so late
that o’clocks had transmogrified into biplanar units of measurement that only
made sense underwater yet allowed me to meet Francine without being late.
She sat at a small
table, sipping a Manhattan, wearing breasts under her shirt that complemented
her entire ensemble like a gold covered helmet. She had legs like interstate
highways, swerving in all directions, forcing merges and acceleration lanes,
smooth as the divider separating opposite moving traffic, strong like ramps
taking you to assorted towns and rest stops, and shiny as a dime. Everything
about her glowed and glistened, she was an angel beautiful enough to make all
other angels commit suicide out of jealousy.
Francine
James!
Narrator
That’s me. James
Francine
James I’ve been
waiting.
James
Hiya, Francine.
You’re looking radiant
Francine
Aw James, stop.
James
I aint jokin,
kid. You are too brilliant to look at, God created nothing in nature that
compares to how gorgeous you are, kid. Your beautify is simply ineffable.
Francine
Is that so,
James? I was hoping you would find it…F-able.
James
Now hold on their
baby…
Francine
Hold on to what?
James
Frisky, are ya?
Francine
So Frisky – I
might have to get…frisked. Mmmm…oh yeah baby… there aint nuthin a girl like me
loves more than a big strong man like you and the smell of urine…
James
What?
Francine
You’re leg darling
– it’s covered in piss. Aw honey now I don’t mind, I love you just the way you
are, dry as a leopard or covered in piss like a retard. Piss piss piss piss.
Pissed yourself. You pissed yourself. [repeated several times]
Gregorian Monk
Why-y-y- are you
cov-v—vered in pissssssss?
Narrator
I need to change
pants – I need to change this city – I need to change everything fuck we all
thought we were late and didn’t have time and pissed on all of it. Contentment
is the death of action. What is the utility of happiness? No, I won’t ask
that puffin marionette. I see him I see him not gunna ask him know he’s not
there. No homeless man no puffin, that’s your mantra.
Puffin
Marionette
Make me dance, oh
make me dance, cuz I’m the puff-puff-puffffffin! If ya buy me, there might be
some strings attached! Dohhhhhhh!
Narrator
Y-Your jingle –
it’s based on a lie!!!
Puffin
Marionette
Puffins don’t lie
James. I’m the most honest puffin marionette that ever was!
Marketing Dude
ahh yes the
incoherence, it’s spot on, I mean bingo baby.
James
I-uh-what are you
talking about
Marketing Chick
It’s hip it’s with
it, it’s very now
Marketing Dude
This is what we’re
looking for, you knocked the ball out of the park, hitting that slacker
audience, that post gen-X Internet disillusioned by 9/11 generation. We love
your angle.
Marketing Chick
Question, does it
have to be piss? I’m thinking vomit.
Marketing Dude
Huh, vomit – that
really knocks the ball out of the park.
Narrator
James sat
paralyzed, unable to speak or perform any such actions that the non-paralytic
are accustomed too. Slowly, he began drowning, coughing, gasping for air, but
words of marketing served as a vice on his lungs, cutting off everything.
Things soon started to fade to black.
James
I always liked
that song.
TO BE CONTINUED
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