Hey, Here’s an Idea

It’s not an excellent idea, but I think it’s okay. It’s for a game show called ‘Bestie or Beastie?’ where you have to guess if the thing in front of you is your best friend or some kind of, like, fucking monster or something that ate up your best friend and is wearing his or her skin as a disguise. If it’s a beastie, and you guess bestie, then you get carted off by the ghoul to his lair where he’ll make merry with your insides! But if it’s your BFF and you guess correctly then you guys get to go on such a fun cruise!! If it’s your bestie and you guess beastie, though, your punishment is that you probably won’t be friends anymore, because now your friend knows that you think they look like some kind of runcible hellion. If it’s a beastie and you guess beastie, you get to go on the cruise but you have to do it alone because that monster totally ogred your bro. Also there’s no guarantee that the beastie won’t fuck you up anyway. It’s a damn monster. Who even knows what kind of shit it gets up to? The show will be hosted by Rick Moranis. Gotta find some monsters, first, though. Also gotta find Rick Moranis. He’s probably just at a hockey game or something, though. Shouldn’t be so hard. Not as hard as the monsters anyway.

That’s pretty much my whole idea, so for the next 600 words or so I’m going to talk about all kinds of cool shit that I have. Partly because I always forget to reflect on things I’m grateful for around T’giving, so I’m going to do it at Easter instead, and partly because I am temporarily living in a pretty horrible residence motel to save dollars for my triumphant return to the East coast, and reminding myself of all my sweet shit will make me feel better about having to fraternize with my horrible neighbors.

1. Cruise Control in my station wagon

I’ve run through four automobiles in the past three year and this dope wagon is the only one that has its shit together in the cruise control department. The monster truck I drove from 2009-2010 was all cruise, no control. For serious, shit had no brakes. Also if you were to pantomime driving that truck in a straight line, and milking a cow, you would be miming the same damn thing. The steering was peculiar at best. The Volvo sedan I parted with in June 2011 rolled of the assembly line with (presumably) working CC but by the time it got to me (after 13 New England winters and probably some other mental New Hampshire-type shit, like a witch or something) it was pretty shot. It would engage occasionally by itself, but when it did I always thought the accelerator had gotten stuck and I’d panic and hit the brakes, totally wasting my chance to enjoy driving while fully extending my knee off to the side of the pedals. The Subaru that I had for a month might have had cruise control, but hell if I found it in the short time that whip was on the road.

2. A watered-down fast food soda in my station wagon

Possibly this list will just be about things that I’m thankful for that are in my car? I hadn’t intended it as such at the outset, but that’s what it’s looking like. You might not think that soda situation is that awesome, but let me explain that I fucking love the taste of watered down, old, flat, fountain soda. Sound gross? Probably is. But my favorite thing about getting food from a drive-through is leaving the ice and, like, a quarter inch of soda in the cup holder to melt for a couple days. Then, after a cold night when it’s had a chance to reach its optimal temp, I drink it on my way to different places, some times while eating an off-brand pop tart. Something like this:

Except it would be cherry flavored, because cherry is fucking better than strawberry, end of discussion. Right now most of the off-brand toaster pastry wrappers in my car (I should probably clean them up, but I don’t really give a shit. Also it’s better than having a car full of toaster pastry Rappers, who would be insufferable), are actually mixed berry (also better than strawberry), and some times the sun will reflect off their shiny foil surfaces and temporarily blind me and other drivers. Nineteen dead so far. Just kidding?!

3. All the extra cargo space the spare tire compartment affords!

If you’re like me, you have tons of shit. I, for example, have 16 books of Lawrence Ferlighetti’s poetry, and half of a non-op Barbie walkie talkie set that is basically a pink Zach Morris phone with a dope purple antenna. Also a few stuffed Fraggles and most of Friday Night Lights on DVD. All these precious possessions have been weighing heavily on my mind of late, what with my super fun move to this horrific motel,my imminent move back to West Virginia, and my eventual move back to New York. ‘How will I get all these things across our lovely country, and Nebraska?’ I ask myself. Then I found the answer! Cramming a bunch of shit in with the spare tire is working wonders! You might think that’s stupid. What if I get a flat tire? Won’t I have to dig through all that shit? To you I say this: If I get a flat tire driving cross country  with the wagon loaded down with about 1300 extra pounds of pots, pans, books, records, Fraggles, and sweatshirts from colleges that I didn’t attend, I will not be throwing the spare on that shit. It would probably explode as soon as I hit the rumble strips coming back onto the road after putting in on there. If I pop a tire on this drive, I will probably abandon the car, hitchhike to the nearest podunk wasteland, pretend to be a shaman, and spend the remaining decades of my life in relative comfort and a shroud of mystery. If this happens, please divide up all my incredible, awesome stuff amongst yourselves.


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