Friday, June 20, 2008

Grrrrr


I’m sick. Mr. Lawrence’s newly replaced ignition broke. I’m working the late shift. I can’t get a hold of Doc. My phone is nearly dead. The pop machine wouldn’t take my dollar.


So, this is what I’m going to say if anyone asks me how I’m doing:


Be advised. I'm mean, nasty and tired. I eat concertina wire and piss napalm and I can put a round in a flea's ass at 200 meters. So why don't you go hump somebody else's leg, mutt face, before I push yours in.


I won’t say that to any of you, of course. I probably won’t say it to anyone. But it feels better to have Clint Eastwood’s voice in my head when I’m feeling puny. At least then I feel a little tougher.
Update: I'm feeling much better after some medication and the pop machine took my dollar the first time this afternoon. I'm sure I'll go home and fall apart, but at least I won't be cranky. For Doc's sake, cross your fingers.

4 comments:

  1. Back in the days of answering machines, I bought a Clint Eastwood tape for my outgoing message.

    (speaking as Dirty Harry)

    Nobody's answering your call punk, but seeing how this is a Panasonic model 44, the most powerful answering machine in the world, you gotta ask yourself a question. Do I feel lucky? Well do you?"

    (beep)

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  2. Sky Dad: Do they still MAKE Panasonic 44's??

    There's a great line from Mark Twain from one of his high-falootin' characters about how he drinks a gallon of whiskey a day when he's feeling healthy and eats a dead body when he's ailing. I think it's read on audio by Roy Blount Jr. and Garrison Keillor. It's worth looking up for just such occasions.

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  3. well tell us how you really feel, Flann.

    But you know if you did say that to me I'd only love you more....

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