Okay, before I start rambling about some stupid retarded topic that
has no particular point, I feel I must say few things to you, the
readers of this piece.
1. I feel I have the obligation to apologize for my brief absence,
which I guess, I have no real excuse for. Sometimes you get
sidetracked by various things such as work or travel or vacation, or
you just lose motivation to do anything. So, sorry to those who
really did miss this crap.
2. I wanna thank those of you who sent emails letting me know your
thoughts on my writings. They are all very much appreciated.
3. And finally, I want you to say to yourself right now "why don't
we go go-carting". Isn't it such a weird thing to say??? I find it
fucken hilarious! Go go-carting... it's funny cuz you can't just say
"let's go carting" cuz carting is not the same as go-carting, and the
fact that you have to say "go" twice is just fucken craaaazy!
Hahahahooohooo ahhhhhhhh... I love it!
Yes, I know, that is just so retarded but I was saying this
to my friends today and apparently I was the only one who thought it
was fucken bonkers that you have to say "go" twice and it all just
sounds weird... yeah okay, I'll leave it alone. But if any of youz
out there finds that funny, lemme know so I don't feel like a loner
on this issue. Alrrrrrighty...
Now, on to bigger and better things... I'm thinking pets right about
now, and what I'm wondering is why the hell don't I have a frickin
pet! Oh yes, yes, yes... now I remember... it's all coming back to me
Grade 1 I believe it was, when I was residing on the west side of
Kirkland. It was a rough side of town back then, but being the solid
young lad I was, I managed. I didn't really have any good friends
before grade 2, so when it was revealed that my family was getting a
goldfish, I was ecstatic. I would watch my dad feed that fish
everyday until one day, when I was feeling responsible (and bored), I
decided to take it upon myself to feed Ernest.
Okay, Ernest wasn't
his name, but I forgot if this fish guy actually had a name and
Ernest was the first name that popped into my head for some odd
So yeah, I was thinking Ernie was looking a lil famished that
day. A couple of hours after feeding him, I checked up on him and he
seemed a little... how should I put this... he seemed a little dead.
It appears that lil Jonny Dy overfed Ernest the Goldfish to his
death. Apparently fish can't handle buffet-type meals. I think I put
enough fish food in there to feed a small school of fisheses. But
there is no factual evidence for this folks, so don't place the blame
on me just yet. And come to think of it, we're not entirely sure
Ernest was dead. Yes, he was found floating silently on his side at
the top of the dirty bowl he liked to call home, and yes most of the
fish food I had unloaded into the bowl had disappeared, and so what
if he was as fat as a blowfish upon removal from his dirt-filled
water, but the fact that no autopsy was performed to reveal the exact
cause of death proves that I am and forever will be innocent until
Geez... ladies and gents, as you can see, I still get emotional when
I speak of this "mysterious" death cuz I must admit, I did become
rather close to Henry... or whatever the fuck its name was. Poor
bastard. Ah well, what can ya do?
I can remember this other time when my family took a young bird into
the house to help it nurse its wounds. Well, actually, it was kept in
the garage, tied to a ladder so that it wouldn't even think of flying
away (reader's note: the bird had an injured wing... therefore tying
it to a ladder might have done no more than aid in the inevitability
of its death.
Oh shite, I just gave away the ending dint I).
so I was playing road hockey, actually it was driveway hockey, with
my next-door neighbor the day after we found this bird, who we had
named... uhhh... (think jon, think!)... Cornelius... right, Cornelius
was its name-o.
At that tender young age, I was blessed with a
blistering slapshot that would probably put me on any NHL team, but
apparently it wasn't too accurate. So from one side of the street I
was taking shots at the net in front of my garage and this one shot
took one bounce off the ground at lightning speeds, missing the net
by a good foot, but striking the fledgling dead on, instantly killing
Cornelius on impact!
It was a sad day in Kirkland let me tell you. We
proceeded by burying Corny behind my neighbor's house, never to see
his ailing body ever again, but we knew that in our hearts, he was to
be with us from that day forth. I bet if he wasn't tied to that
ladder, he woulda been able to dodge that bullet I shot at him. I
guess I shouldn't have tied him eh? Heheh oops.
Actually, in a way,
it was good that it hit him cuz he actually stopped the ball, and for
all you ball hockey players out there, you all know how frustrating
it is to lose a ball in your garage. Geez, I might as well have put
fucken Cornelius in nets. What a save he woulda made eh? Now THAT
woulda been going down in style.
This article of thought is dedicated to Ernest-Henry, Cornelius and
to all those other overfed fish or abused birds tied to ladders found
around the world.