Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Imagined Conversations

Between two competitors at The Special Olympics, before the race.

“So, you gonna run the entire thing? Or just kind of crap-out half way because you get a medal regardless?”

“Oh hell no. I plan to book it the entire stretch. I'm breaking records today my friend. SONIC BOOM, BITCH! What do you think I am, some kind of pussy?”

“No, but I’m just sayin’. I mean, there’s no need to risk pulling a hamstring out here. We all know this is more of a meet-and-greet kind of deal. So what’s the point in bustin’ an ankle over this shit when you don’t even have to run straight? You could just run home instead of toward the finish. They seriously DO NOT CARE here. Fuck it: medals for everyone! So why try?”

“For pride.”





“NUH-THING, fucker.”

“I shall bury you in the lanes.”

“Fuck you. You, you… retard.”



“Not cool man. Not. Cool.”


Two survivors from a bus in rural Guatemala that was ransacked by a roaming Jungle Death Squad.

“H-h-hey man, you alright?”

“Yeah, I think my wrist broke when I jumped out the back. I can never get that ‘tuck-n-roll’ thing right.”

“You’re alright though. I think my ankle is shot. I tripped on some roots when I was running blindly through the jungle, bullets whizzing by my ears.”

“I just pretended I was dead on the roadside. After the explosion, they didn’t bother to check everyone’s pulse.”


“No shit. You see that one chick that flew through the front glass after the bus piled into the ditch?”

“The one with the green cap and Converse All Stars?”

“I think.”

“Khaki shorts and that patchouli-looking bag? Hemp on everything?”

Sounds right.”

“Cute toosh, low buttoned shirt, and those two pony tail things, like Pocahontas?”

“Fuck yeah, that’s the one. She ate it pretty bad, huh? Right on over the hood?”

“Yeah. I hope her next of kin is a sister. That would be so sweet.”

“You’re damn right it would!”

“So! Sweet! Hey, uh, have you seen my kids anywhere around here? There’s like three of them, one is about yea-tall with a blue back pack…”


Dick Cheney and Friend having after-dinner wine at Cheney’s D.C. apartment.

Friend: “So, this whole Rove thing is getting way out of hand, eh?”

Cheney: “I guess. Hell, they already crucified me, the president, and the twins. It was just a matter of time before they mounted a hunt for The Big Dog.”

Friend: “True. But what if what they’re saying is more than just a liberal witch-hunt? What if he was the source of the leak?”

Cheney: “Whatever. I was all over that Halliburton scandal, they proved it, and it still added up to a steaming bowl of dick for them. It’s just a distraction.”

Friend: "..."

Cheney: "What? What are you so creeped out about?"

Friend: “So... the Halliburton deals really were crooked? You really are a double-dealing, democracy-raping, America-hater?”

Cheney: “Shut the fuck up. We don’t talk about that. Ever.”

Friend: “But, this is… all rather shocking, and frankly I just don’t know how to fee…”

Cheney: “I’m warning you. One more word and…” [cracks knuckles]

Friend: “No, no, no! I just can’t believe you would betray…”

Cheney: “This must end. Now!” [stabs friend in ribs with ball point pen]

Friend: “Sssssssssssshhhhhssssssshhshshhhsss” [slowly deflates to plastic puddle with enlarged lips, draped over couch cushions]

Cheney: [frustrated, self-defeated] “Damnit. Sometimes I get too carried away with this shit.”