Scatterbrained Fuckfest

Scatterbrained Fuckfest

11.16.04 (10:12 am)   [edit]
My writing has gone to shit in the past week or so, little fragments appearing to me when I'm away from the computer. When I am here, I just don't fucking feel like it. Shit, I wrote a whole fucking book in my head in the past two weeks, but it's gone. Sucked into oblivion. Oh well, fuck it. Here is something I started on a couple days after the election. Unfinished, but you'll get the idea. It's all horseshit in the end.

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I took to the streets the day after the election, hoping to interview some everyday voters and ask them about why they voted for who they did. Standing outside a Biggs Hypermarket, I spotted a large pear-shaped man with short-cropped greying hair, digging through his pockets trying to find a quarter so he could get a shopping cart.

I held out a quarter for him and said "Sir, I'm a reporter. Can I ask you who you voted for yesterday?"

He took the quarter with a barely audible "Thanks" and said "George W. Bush." I noted the pride in which he remembered to insert the "W" into that phrase, the kind of punctuation that says you take this man seriously.

Me:"Why did you vote for George Bush?" I thought I'd leave the "W" out this time, just for the hell of it.

Voter:"He's a good man and a good leader. He has good strong Christian values. That John Kerry wants to destroy stem cells and allow homosexuals to marry each other. He believes in abortion. And that stuff is in the Bible. You can't have that kind of goings on in a Christian nation."

Me:"I don't recall the Bible mentioning stem cells. Was that somewhere in the book of Luke? I know he was the doctor."

Voter:"God says in the Bible 'I knit you together in your mother's womb.' Abortion is murder, that's what the Good Book says."

Me:"Well, actually, it isn't saying anything about abortion or even necessarily the point at which life begins. What kind of knitting needles does God use? I picture some of those big-ass gleaming silver ones. Oh look! A thread is coming loose!" I starting yanking at an invisible thread on my wrist.

Voter:"You would't make fun of the teachings of our Lord Jesus if you knew what was good for you. I'm gonna go buy my damn groceries now. You from Massachussetts?"

Me:"Boston, actually. Gotta get back home in time for Gay Pride day. My Richard Simmons signature workout oufit is probably in my mailbox waiting for me right now. Have a nice day, sir."

Voter: "Damn faggots."

He pushed his cart off in a huff. I didn't bother asking for my quarter back. I could swear I saw his butt cheeks clench in some kind of reflexive defense mechanism trying to thwart any unwanted entry from my disgusting faggot direction, but maybe that was just a product of having an ass the size of a Marshall half-stack.

I suppose his apparant fears of homo rampages were justified, because the next person I saw getting a cart (with his quarter produced from a Ziploc bag) sure looked to me like a common degenerate buttfucker. I mean, you can tell 'em a mile away, right? I noted the Kerry/Edwards button on his overly tight t-shirt and rightly assumed I had the other side to speak to.

Me:"Sir, why did you vote for John Kerry?"

Voter:"Ballsucking."

M:"What?"

V:"Ballsucking. See, I like to suck balls."

M:"Well, that's very nice and all, but I hardly see..."

V:"George Bush doesn't want me to suck balls, but John Kerry will let me suck balls. It seems to me that he obviously likes ballsucking himself, so I'm proud to vote for him."

M:"Well, the topic was really just about gay marriage, not about gay sex itself. And even then, you still could suck balls if you wanted to, right? I mean, I assume you've been doing it already while Bush was in office."

V:"Yes, but only in the privacy of my own home under a blanket with all the lights off, with duct tape and plastic sheeting all over the walls and windows so that nobody outside can hear my lover's cries of pleasure as I lovingly caress his nutsack with my hot wet mouth."

M:"Stop it, you're making me hot." Those Christians were right, *I* was going to turn gay being around this wacky queer. Thank God for the "moral values" parade.

V:"OK. And lemme tell you another thing, buster. That duct tape is just a total BITCH to have to look at on my walls. That kind of tacky straight-bachelor decorating can make a fudgepacker weep."

M: "So, what happens from here?"

V:"Well, we're going to fight. We want unrestricted ballsucking in the streets. If we must achieve this goal through civil disobedience, we will do so. I'm organizing a "Ballsucking Satanist Stem-Cell-Harvesting Baby Murderers Parade" to march here in town next month."

M:"You expecting a big turnout?"

V:"Damn, I hope so. It's so hard to find guys around here."

M:"Well, good luck sir. Have a nice day."

V:"Thank you, and remember - suck balls!"

He nearly shouted this last part, and flitted off into the store. I noticed a soccer mom standing next to a dark green SUV clutching her child a little harder with a look of horrific shock on her face. Then she put the child into his car seat and unloaded 47 half gallon cartons of Carb Countdown into her shiny gas-guzzling fuck-you-mobile. Seems the low-carb craze is dying down in America, so lots of blandly healthy tasteless shit is quickly becoming quite affordable here at the Third Mall From The Sun.

I went off for lunch. I got something semi-healthy at a take-out Chinese place then drove to the parking lot of a McDonalds to watch the carnage. I noticed a a dark green SUV in the drive-thru lane. Apparantly sudden cravings had gotten the best of one member of the soccer mom contingent.

I saw somebody walking to the car next to me, so I put down my own lunch and got out of the car. My next victim was a youngish, tall, skinny gentleman, dressed sharply with the air of success about him. A gleaming silver chain hung low from his neck, contrasting with his expensive-looking pullover black shirt. I figured he was either an electronics salesman or a pimp, peddling young white crack-addicted flesh to the stuffed suits who own the $300,000 homes that are going up every fourteen seconds in this part of town.

Me: "Excuse me sir, I'm a reporter. Can I ask you who you voted for yesterday?"

His look of unbreakable strutting confidence snapped and he stammered, "Nader! No, Bush! Leave me alone! I'm late to work!" And he hopped into his sleek sportscar and nearly ran me over trying to get away.

Hmmm. Things were strange in the McDonalds parking lot.
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I'm available for children's parites, by the way. Have a lovely Tuesday, folks.

Dougie