Bouncy, Bouncy
by Jason Nelson
Music fills the room, forcing all the furniture, dust, and excess
molecules into the hallway. If I had a broom, I might try to clear some
space by sweeping the sounds into a newly-designed dustpan. Don’t ask
about the design, it’s a secret and besides, your gossip hounding ways
could get you in a peck of trouble. I’m not saying all music is trash,
just anything with a guitar noise or semi-rhythmic droning or squeals.
I’m also not particularly fond of the room-filling capabilities of
torture-based bone scraping, but I’m willing to make concessions as long
as the game is short and the hotdogs are relatively fresh and warm. You
might be wondering about the connections between hotdogs and music. Both
have consumer-based pricing structures and both gush a thick mucousy
liquid that when condensed and processed turns into colorful, yet sun-protecting ointments. They won’t protect from the sun’s rays, mind you,
just its oppressive crime racket and bumbling meathead hoodlums.
Hone Grown
I’d like to help you, but there are laws against my intervening in the
affairs of vegetables. No, I’m not talking about bed-ridden motorcycle
crash victims. I mean those tasty friends of the garden. Gardens don’t
necessarily require friends, but when you’re dirt, worms and bits of
broken glass, you need more than just a television. From my limited
understanding, which quite frankly isn’t all that limited, the
vegetables of the world have formed a union. They’re not asking for
much, but you’d better listen to their demands. If you’re hearing
impaired, that’s too bad, because vegetables lost their movable digits
years ago. There are only three demands. First, vegetables want pets.
Each stalk of corn or tasty string of peas wants a gerbil. I know that’s
a lot of gerbils, but I understand Cuba has been doing some research
into a small rodent army. Secondly, vegetables want socks. Sure, they
don’t have feet, but it’s a small concession to keep our species alive.
Lastly, they want the world to stop calling the tomato a vegetable. It’s
a fruit dammit, do you hear me, tomatoes are fruits, can’t you see
that!
