Monday, September 8, 2008

From the town of Falls Church, Virginia ...

I am trying to decide what I will do when the straw that breaks my back falls. I know it is coming.

I dropped out of my horse show this month because my jaw makes it hard to talk to my horse and encourage her. Plus, I do clench my teeth when riding because I concentrate so hard. This morning the hot water did not work. After a plumber came, Dad now says that I was turning it the wrong way, but I have been doing it for months. Why would I suddenly go wrong? And I have been so hunrgy from not eating because of my jaw.

Obviously, when that final straw falls, the big desire will be to go on a multi-state shooting spree, maybe get a song written about me.

But I dislike guns and violence, and neither Claren nor I drive. My shooting spree would probably be me rolling down the bike trail with a supersoaker water gun shooting bikers who pass with no warning and other jerks. I picture Claren beside me pulling one of those Little Tikes wagons filled with extra ammo. Incidentally, this may be the coolest playset ever.

I could go on a drinking bender, but I dislike the taste of things alcoholic and I would probably just pass out or barf. Same goes for food, although I like it.

Perhaps the most attractive is spending all money on toys and comics, but let's be honest here: When do I hold back as it is?

Tomorrow I go to the dentist. Will headgear be the final straw?


Anonymous said...

I like the image of Claren as your arsenal. And imagining you riding the bike path super soaker in hand is pretty good too. Matt, somehow there is good stuff somewhere. I'll let you know if I find it myself. But I promise to keep looking if you will

Matt said...

This would be awesome. I would be a folk hero like Pretty Boy Floyd. I would be called by the name of my weapon, the Stupid Soaker -- because I soak stupid people. And everyone would love me because no one likes stupid people. It would turn out that the sheriff of Falls Church rides a bike and doesn't warn people when passing and I would hit him full in the face with a flash flood. Then he would swear out a warrant for my arrest and he would be a combo of Jay Jonah Jameson and Javert, a JJJJ. And I would have to leave home to avoid arrest. And the people whose yards open on to the bike trail would leave their garages open for us to stay and leave Pupperoni and Pop-tarts. But we'd get caught because disguises are of limited use when in a wheelchair -- No, that is not a wheelchair under this poncho, I am just really fat and oddly shaped. Then at court, just before finding me guilty, the door to the court would fly open and in would roll someone with a dog and a super soaker, and she would "No, I'm the Stupid Soaker!" Then someone else and someone else. It would totally be an I'm Spartacus moment, and the judge would toss the suit and everyone would cheer. The only thing still up in the air is romance. It could be my lawyer or the first Spartacus. Or I could have steamy one-night stands with all the women who left their garages open.

Anonymous said...

I am speechless and in awe of your vast store of pop cultrue knowledge and your ridiculous imagination. good news from the dentist though

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