I like clowns

Shitty valentines: 2021 Unus Annus mega post edition

Feel free to use! No credit is needed

I slung the punching bag over my shoulder and looked back at these three angels.  I knew I had to say something. Something profound. Something they’d never forget and would remember me by.  This could very well be the last thing I say to them. But I’m not good under pressure so I just reminded them to cancel my knife magazine subscriptions and tripped on my way down the RV stair. And it wasn’t even like a trip I could play off or down play it in some way. It was bad. It was a really bad and embarrassing trip that I know will haunt me for at least 6 years. Maybe even 7.

Truthfully, I still haven’t recovered from the breakup. Not really. A breakup can be bad by itself, but three? At the same time? Hard to bounce back from that. I had a job at Old Navy for a couple of days, but I got fired from that because I kept bumming out the customers because I would cry and hug mannequins for most of my shift. I eventually found a job dumpster diving for this piece of shit Larz who fucking loves to toss whole bricks at me when he’s in a bad mood. He owns a storage garage/unit place and in exchange for five cool items a day, he let’s me sleep in an empty unit in the back. It’s really hard finding five things he thinks are cool from dumpster diving because all he really likes is cryptography and Mike’s Hard Lemonade. But the things I bring him have to be from the dumpster. I can’t bring him a Mike’s Hard Lemonade because he’ll know I didn’t get it from a dumpster because he refuses to believe someone threw out a whole case of ‘the good stuff’. Thankfully, he also likes knives, so I’ve been slipping some of my magazines in with my hauls under the guise that I found them in a dumpster.  

YEARS of that passes and one day, as I’m spraying toilet cleaner on me to keep me clean from the dumpster I’m about to climb into, I see off in the distance… Blaiz. She walks over and smiles. She asks how I am, and makes small talk. I’m trying my best not to fall over and pass out… Here she is… Blaiz… A love of my life. I can’t hardly believe it, it was too much. Her radiance, her aura, her smile… But also, toilet cleaner really makes me light headed so that maybe had something to do it with. Plus it was like a really hot day and the heat was like, melting the garbage bags and the garbage fumes were just blasting me in the face, it was a lot.

But anyway, Blaiz asks if I’m doing anything and says that her and Funk and Chas-Chas would like to talk. I lie and say I have to go to an award show tonight for the award they’re naming after/giving me in my honor for being such a good fighter/lover/puncher. But I said to forget the award show, because of course I’d come and talk. But Blaiz was like ‘No! Are you kidding? We can talk tomorrow, go accept that award that’s so cool’ stuff like that. So she gave me her address, congratulated me on the award, and told me she’d see me tomorrow.

Next day I arrived at the address and I was completely blown away. A house. A full house! With an upstairs. And a freaking backyard. I was so impressed and so proud of them. As I was walking through the neighborhood to the address, I thought they just parked the RV in a suburb’s park like we would sometimes do. I nervously walked up the driveway and knocked on the door. I hear Blaiz yell from somewhere in the house that she was coming. A wave of very potent smelling weed assaulted me as the door swung open. We exchanged awkward pleasantries and she invited me in.

Blaiz tells me Funk and Chas-Chas are in the living room and she leads me to them. A lump forms in my throat. Funk and Chas-Chas. Still as beautiful as ever. Chas-Chas was taking a hit from a big weed bunt but starts coughing as I walk in. Funk is seated next to her, her arms around a big pillow she’s holding to her chest.

I take a seat on the couch across from them as Blaiz half sits/half leans on the arm of the couch Funk and Chas-Chas are on.  Blaiz just kinda looks at me. She was always hard to read, and right then was no different. There’s some awkward small talk - I compliment their house and they talk about the jobs they got. Blaiz has started an edible bakery. Chas-Chas runs her own head shop. Funk is an astronaut.

There’s a slightly uncomfortable lull in the convo, so I ask why they invited me over. They all look at each other and Blaiz stands up. She tells me wants to show me something and leads me upstairs. From one of the rooms, I can hear the familiar sounds of the old plug and play console we had. Blaiz knocks on the closed door and a soft ‘Yeah?’ is called out from behind it. Blaiz looks back at me, and her face, clear as day, is full of hope as she opens the door. A kid is sitting cross-legged in front of a TV set playing “ If You Were My Brother, I’d Kill You With a Rock & 13 More Biblically Inspired Classics”. My favorite game. I look at the kid and look back at Blaiz. She just smiles and nods. Blaiz tells the boy that someone is here to see him and closes the door behind me. I go over and sit down next to him and tell him this is one of my favorite games. The boy mutters a response as he clobbers Abel over the head with a rock. We both sit in silence for a good while and I just watch him play.

SMASH SMASH SMASH. The kid is just pounding the rock over Abel’s head, not doing any combo moves, or flashy finishers. It was kind of hard to watch. Here’s my favorite game, with very intuitive controls and simple combos, and the kid is just doing the same move over and over. I kinda start shifting uncomfortably, and sighing and all that. It was kinda hard to watch. Eventually I tell the kid he’s playing it wrong and I try to give the kid a few pointers. As I’m explaining the Fratricide Combo, he tells me to be quiet.  I tell him I’m just trying to help and I reach over to show him the buttons on the controller, but he pulls away. I try and grab the controller and a scuffle breaks out where we’re fighting for control over the controller. Just then, God smites him in the game, and it’s Game Over. He stands up and just starts yelling at me. Fuck you this, Fuck you that… Where was I his whole life, what a shitty dad I am, how he knows now why moms left me, all this.

Blaiz hears this and rushes in and is like what the hell is going on. The kid is crying now and he runs over to Blaiz. Everyone is freaking out, Funk and Chas-Chas come in too, to see what’s going on. I try to explain I was just helping him with the game, and he yells back that I suck at that game and he beat all my highscores(But he calls them LOWSCORES because they were so low) and points to the tv. The screen says NEW HIGHSCORE: FUCK YOU DAD - 99999 Points.

I’m not going to lie… seeing me dethroned on my favorite game… it hurt alil. Hearing this punk ass kid say I’m bad at it… it hurt alil too. If you insult my skill at If You Were My Brother, I’d Kill You With a Rock & 13 More Biblically Inspired Classics… The gloves are off. So we get into this huge argument/roast off. And this kid just starts roasting the fuck out of me. Like I could not come back against some of the shit he was saying- WHICH! I will say was a lil unfair because he has all sorts of dirt and shit on me thanks to his moms, and I don’t even know this squirts name! He starts to break out the Yo Mama jokes and Blaiz grabs me by collar and very forcefully escorts me downstairs.

So I get tossed out the house. I’m trying to apologize but Blaiz won’t have it. She doesn’t want to see me around here ever again. It was a mistake bringing me here in the first place. I go, ‘Can I atleast know his name? Could I atleast know my son’s name.’ And she goes, ‘you know what Jory? His name is Aid.’ I gasp… ‘Like Kool-Aid?’ I ask. It was my first choice as far as baby names went. Blaiz just nods her head and goes, ‘Yeah…. Yeah like Kool-Aid. But you know what? Tomorrow we’re going to city hall, and changing his name.’ And I’m like, ‘Uh-uh! N You better not! Blaiz.. you better not!’ And she’s like, ‘Yup! We’re gonna change it. And you know what we’re changing it to? Tang!’ TANG?! I can’t believe it. ‘The fucking orange orangutan astronaut shit?’ I ask in disgust and disbelief. ‘Yeeesss the fucking orangutan astronaut shit Jory’ Blaiz says with a really mean and disrespectful voice. The door is slammed on my face as I yell out that I hope she knows he’s going to be bullied with a name like that.