Secret info from our man on the street.
Current mood: thankful
Hello everyone, this is Juan Johnson with a special report. This week I spoke with local celebrity, Stranglin Jack Johnson, who claims that the Marie Calendars remodeling is "taking longer than the whole damned 'Iraq' thing."
I got this unique opportunity to speak with this legendary man, not by chance, but by an arranged meeting that he set up the day before with my editor.
Because of his enormous popularity, he wanted us to meet at a secure location of his choosing. I found myself at a laundry-mat full of people eating watermelon and arguing about the price of gas.
When he arrived, I knew he had something in mind to discuss. He was very tall, and wearing a Superman costume meant for a 6 year old. The costume did a piss-poor job of hiding his Mandingo from me, and the rest of the watermelon munchers.
"I CANT BELIEVE IT!" he exclaimed even before sitting down. "How dumb can they be?"
I was awestruck at the size of the piece of string cheese stuck in his 18 inch beard.
"How dumb can who be?" I asked.
"Those f^&*ing people that are doing the remodeling at the Marie Calendars; its ridiculous," he said sobbing wildly.
He finally sits down. His eyes were wild and his breath smelled like fresh snow.
"What brought you to finally come forward after ten years?" I asked, my voice shaking.
Following his heroic book Doesnt Matter, which saved our country, and, according to most Nobel Laureates, saved the world he disappeared. Why did he write it and then how could he just walk away after?
I prepared for this meeting by reading his book, Doesnt Matter, a book that he still claims is loosely based on the lifestyle of Owen Wilson.
"How hard is it to nail up a wall? Or put up some drywall? Jesus, these people are stupid!"
I was suddenly flashed with the genius that he possessed. How could it be? Ive lived my entire life without realizing that my own problems were hurdles too. Much like the Marie Calendars, Im just taking too long to remodel.
"I want some pie I just want some God-dammed pie. Ya know they've redone the floor in there at least 3 times first tile, then carpet and now it looks like sod."
I struggled to understand.
He stood and held his hands out as though he was trying to fly. "I dont think that people pay enough attention to speakerphones not nearly."
I wrote down everything he said word for word as though my life depended on it. They should have sent another writer someone more in touch with themselves, someone that takes better notes someone who can read. I am certain at this point he can see that I am terrified.
"You should try to eat an entire watermelon while underwater. I bet it cant be done." He jumped up and ran out the door singing.
I slouched down in my chair. It was done. He said what he wanted and now I was free. Free to be the miserable failure that my hot, 26 year old guidance counselor touched inappropriately, according to a jury of her peers.
A child gets out of a dryer and falls down.
Maybe Ill be nothing more that that.
