“You ever seen a fella who just always seems drunker than dumb, but in his whole life he ain’t swallowed nothing but a gulp of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and all he does is talk so much that you sorta just wanna kill him?”
“I don’t go around anyone anymore, besides the plastered Barbie type. I hate drunk men. I’d chew the coals in hell before I shook hands with drunk man.”
“Well, he ain’t a real drunk. He just seems that way.”
“I’ve seen them in shows.”
“Well, I knew a fella like that, realer than the pies of poop plopping outta a sick heifer’s hind.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. This fella was a real rubberduck.”
“That sounds super inappropriate.”
“I ain’t mean that. I just mean this fella was always playing kid and all. Wiping chunky peanut butter around the toilet seat, and filling the sugar bowl with sea salt. Just a hacked off little runt that really bit hard between the legs.”
“I’d swipe a skillet across his cheek if he acted that way around me.”
“I tell ya, I almost killed this fella; he was at least thirty and already scratching at a grey wispy beard. Standing straight up you’d call him a totem pole. Beefy guy. He coulda swallowed two fat pigs for breakfast and each of em just sorta shaped into his arms, you’d think.”
“Yeah?”
“I still lose sleep about what happened. I done him real wrong, pal.”
“Yeah.”
“So I met him at this Walmart on Court Street—that’s the one with the crappily charged scooter carts that don’t last ten minutes before they beep red and getch’ya islanded besides the lingerie. I ain’t even lying, this fella is an honest-walking witness to the terrible effects of ten cent shower soaps, that kind you get find 5 cent coupons for just lying around everywhere, sopping wet in the curb gutter, in old shopping carts and parachuting through parking lots. I mean he’s chaffing like a lizard shedding and smells no better than if a two whole candle sticks plunged up your nostrils. Now, we’re the cereal aisle, alright? And I just wanna get me some Protein Cheerios while this flake face looking at them Fruit Loops that cost three bucks and two cavities.”
“I like Fruit Loops.”
“You would like Fruit Loops. Anyhow, this bananas loony just opens the box right there in the store, shreds the plastic wrap with his buckteeth and pours that rainbow crap in his mouth. I mean those green and red rings tumble down his shirt or settle in his pants or roll across the aisle and batter against his shoes. See why I thought he was drunk?”
“So you pancaked him.”
“I’m all about caring for other people and all, and treating them nice, and this crusty scabswell just made a mess that everybody was gunna haveta clean up. So I flatlined him. Sent him on prostrate to the heavens with a hard palm up his nose.”
“Ow.”
“Well I figured he was all schooled up in cleanliness now, so I go to leave, but just as I’m walking out of the store this prickly clown taps my shoulder, and he starts screaming my ear off. Talking so much I can’t hardly ignore him. Each syllable hacks up my thoughts. I hear him nonstop until I get in my Ford and nearly pancake him again. And I learned something that day. Something really important. Something I want you to know.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“That Protein Cheerios ain’t as swell as they sound.”
“Oh. Grand.”
“Don’t listen to stories without a point, bucky. Even if it’s all giggly. You spend all your time listening to what’s humorous and you get a climax with flavor but no protein. It’s a fruit loop kind of life.”
