My Pokemon story.

Even as I sat on the bus en route to his place the phone call still repeated itself constantly in my mind. It was a short call that consisted entirely of him calling me and stating that he had a real life Farfetch’d that I should come over to his house to see before he hung up. Had he finally gone mad? I think that was the thing I was most curious about.

I guess his story was a bit . . . Farfetch'd. Because nobody has ever made that joke before.

I guess his story was a bit . . . Farfetch’d. Because nobody has ever made that joke before.

Exiting the bus and making my way up the sidewalk he burst out of his front door with the excitement of a small child who had just gotten a video game system for Christmas despite the fact that his parents really couldn’t afford it. As he told me that he had been awaiting this day for his entire life my friend led me upstairs to his bedroom.

What awaited me was . . . Unexpected. A dead Mallard duck was propped up against a bookend with a leek shoved in its beak. After taking what must have been at least a solid minute or so I looked at this man whom I considered a friend and consciously blinked several times in an attempt to request an explanation without having to go through the awkwardness of actually asking.

“Isn’t it awesome!? I just found her lying on the side of the river by the elementary school just past the strip mall. Her name is Jet Leek. She’s too proud to live in a Poké Ball as you can see.”

Looking back at the duck it was then that I finally became aware of the smell. Thinking carefully about how to point out the obvious in a tactful manner I gave up and blatantly stated “I think it’s rotting dude.”.

“Nah, I haven’t had a chance to get her in the bath yet.”

At this point I had completely nothing. Nothing. Out of politeness and value for our friendship I congratulated him on his find and made up an excuse about running late for something. On the bus heading home I kept trying to process what had just happened. After a while I started to wonder why I was surprised.

After all, that’s like the fourth time he’s done that this year.

Someone bought this for me recently. This is my weapon for the zombie apocalypse.

Someone bought this for me recently. This is my weapon for the zombie apocalypse.

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I should start a band.

Actually, I tried to start a two-man act with a friend of mine (Let’s call him DJ Sven again because he still be spinning like mad yo.) a couple of years ago. It was going to be called Anger Cake and our band logo would have a cake being smashed with a hammer. It was pretty friggin’ awesome. The only thing that got in our way and the very thing that destroyed our endeavor was the fact that we had absolutely no ideas about anything whatsoever beyond those two things.

I need to start over beginning with a new name. Using Anger Cake wouldn’t be cool since that was something I was supposed to start with somebody else. I’m thinking something along the lines of Birthday Box for now, but I’ll dwell on that for a bit.

Now I need to pick a genre of music. I don’t really have any talents with an instrument, but I hear that ‘spoken word’ is a genre? Basically someone loudly tells a story while someone else plays music. Not really singing per say, but I feel it’s something I could do with some practice.  As for the background music I’ll need something that will stand out. Nobody’s really made it big with an accordion player in their band recently have they?

As for subject manner I need to pick something agreeable that hasn’t already been covered a million times already. Social/political commentary is overdone, hot-button issues will drive people away and I have to avoid being too preachy. So I guess I’ll have to use my spoken word music to raise awareness of the dangers of carnivorous jellybeans and the like.

Anybody wanna sign up to be my accordion player? I can’t promise that I’ll be able to pay you anything but we’ll have a hell of a journey at least.

Man, it’s been a weird week with my girlfriend halfway across the country.

Like, the first couple days the place was overrun by hamsters.

They were everywhere. The floor was practically made out of them at one point. When I was leaving for work one day they covered my upper body and I wound up having to go through my day with a living, furry hamster hoodie.

In an attempt to engage them in conversation I decided to talk to them about their existence. I looked at one in the eye and said “Before we get started, I just wanted to you let you know that I’m not here to discuss me being real but you being aware.”  It worked. Not only were they confused, but hamsters tend to have trouble when it comes to becoming aware of their existence. They all disappeared with a gentle splash of Febreze being released into the air. That didn’t make me stop wanting to be a hamster on some level, but I had to move on.

After that I had to deal with a severe lack of things to carry other things with. I couldn’t find a bag for the life of me. The grocery store didn’t have any either (At least any they were willing to give away.). So I had to carry my lunches for the entire week entirely by hand. Carrying three thousand Snickers Bars around each day by hand is pretty tough.

Hopefully when she comes home tomorrow everything will be all sorted out by then. I do keep finding drumsticks in the most odd of places though. We don’t even play any musical instruments . . .