Noobtastic

Authors note: Please don't beat around the bush on criticism, I haven't been able to write well for months and this just struck me and I had to, I felt very good about it a few hours ago and now it seems a little mediocre. I have another chapter brewing in my head right now but I feel if anything needs to be improved it should be before I start putting down more words.



It was yesterday afternoon that I picked up the extinguished half of a joint I had begun to smoke last night in the pitch black darkness behind my home. Hastily, I blackened the ember tip on one of the cheap vinyl panels when the neighbors blinds appeared to open and close as shutters in a catastrophic hurricane and tufts of uncut grass began to resemble menacing alligator snouts scouring an open lake, I needed to run into the safety of my bedroom before being swallowed by the obtrusive reptilian paradise the earth was already becoming.

The rest of that night remains a faint memory with exceptions to remarkably clear scenes of Mike Myers and Dana Carvey singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" after my outrageous phone conversation with a friend discussing the differences between white and black women, which followed a furious and unfortunately unlubricated moment of masturbation, assisted only by images conjured by my unholy mind. Remaining activities of the night could only be investigated through the heap of roasted peanuts and shells I woke up amongst the following morning.

Surely, I was going to be dry for the next few days to come after this minuscule serving so I decided to make the best of it. In an empty house, I turned every object over in search of the fabled "Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle" DVD - finally finding it in the case of a 007 Playstation game I had given up on an hour after purchase. I tore open the conjoining ends of a bagel, slathering the insides with a liberal amount of strawberry jam before I set it on a saucer beside an awaiting joint in front of the enormous living room television, not hesitating to run towards the XBOX in order to slip the movie into it's dock.

Praying for forgiveness from the cows, I sprawled across the cold leather couch as the movie began, fishing my new lighter out of my pocket. A black piece with a red lever, it looked very smooth and sexy for a Bic purchased for not much more than a dollar from a Latin woman with a stare that could defeat a thousand nations. Amateurishly holding a flame to the darkened rice paper containing my only source of weekend enjoyment, I took quick, deep puffs, silently lamenting the virgin wisps of smoke that were soon to be inhaled by the recirculating air conditioner. Disappointed due to no apparent effects, I took a bite out of the bagel, swirling a jam soaked piece in my mouth with my eyes looking to the ceiling in thought as if in a posh wine tasting party. "Is it too sweet or just sweet enough? Should I eat the caviar or save them for my fish tank in hopes they hatch?". The movie playing had yet to interest me as I'd seen it 28 or so times.

In time my mind entirely deserted me, probably in search of somewhere sane like Amish country or Canada. I stood in the kitchen while microwaving a bagel pouring with jam, confident that the bread will soften and the jam would liquidize, thereby leaving me with a delicious jelly donut. At the same time laughing hysterically at the fantastic scene that was playing on the television.
"Is this your special bush?"

"Nevermind, forget it. I really don't feel like getting stabbed tonight..."

Who did I think I was not to laugh with this piece of 21st Century Art before me? A fucking snob, that's who, a poser, not even worth enough to truthfully be called a human being, in some countries I'd be kept in a dungeon to be fed a weekly diet of fish heads and tortured as recreation for the young children of wealthy bureaucrats.

By now I was speedily making many more jelly donuts, eating all so all that was left were bagels made out of wheat bread which I didn't dare to use in fear of tainting the name of the Almighty jelly donut. My XBOX had already discovered the scratches that adorned the back of my DVD, turning it into a slideshow with the occasional audible sound, I had already won back most of my mind but not my stomach so I decided to to travel around town in search of food.

I must've stood by the glass door for 10 minutes ready to go, I was terrified of the sun. I knew that son of a bitch was waiting outside for me, this was the battle for survival, Arnold Jackson versus The Gooch. Holding my car's key and all objects that could've weighed down my pocket, I flung open the door, expertly closing it behind me as if running a relay. I sprinted down the driveway without slightest regard for my surroundings, stopping to take a breath only when I was safely in my Burgundy 1994 Nissan Sentra- "Rosie". It was at least 100 degrees inside the car, I couldn't take it, I had just migrated from a chilled palace of jelly donuts to a vinyl lined pit of fire!
"You son of a bitch' I muttered as I rolled down the window to let in a gust of southern breeze.