It takes a real man to be reincarnated as a woman. Otherwise, to learn you’re Mary F’in Shelley
don’t you know you’d be FuckedNineWaysToASundayInTheCemetary?
HeyHeyHoHo, there I go again, jumping ahead of myself. SlowTheFuckDownThereChampo! Let’s start from ScratchARoony!
I was already in an ExtraVirginOliveOilFragileStateOfNormalFuckedUp when the invite hit my inbox because, my FellowSapioSuckerSapians,
just one hour ago, I discovered Meryl stole all my Hanky-Pankies and cleaned me out of MEMEANDME!
I don’t mean to make excuses. Had I not been on the verge of taking my own life, I’d have remembered the Thomas Wolf book,
You Can’t Go Home Again, and never have listened to Gerry when he told me ReincarnationWasTheRoadToThePus-say.
“It’s two o’clock in the freakin’ afternoon Boyo, and you’re still in your skivvies!” He brought his face closer to the screen.
“And, what’s with the smile? You injectin’ Botox into your cheeks, or you just happy to see me?”
Fuck me; why am I on FaceTime with this asshole?
“Meryl’s gone,” I muttered.
He didn’t know whether to shit or get off the pot, and I took delight in his inability to come up with a putdown,
or was it he had so many and couldn’t make up his mind which StingMeSillyWillyZinger he’d zap me with.
“Well, look at it this way, Boyo...”
He swiveled his face into a LincolnPennyProfile, striking the pose until I had to laugh, as he knew I would,
despite having seen it ManyManyMuchoMuchoTimes since he first pulled it in the second grade.
I couldn’t contain my smile until he ruined it with another dig.
“Got tired of your side of the street, did she—the old rug muncha?”
No point in bringing up the fact that the old rug muncha was twenty years my junior, and had a workout
regime the envy of women half her age. Enjoyed sex like it was being recalled the next day; and looked to give me
the sweet afterglow as much, if not more, than any straight woman I’d ever encountered.
“I say you’re better off, Laddie Boy. All the little Vs you been gulpin’ like candy to keep up with
your LuluLemonLady may make your dick hard, but it fucks with your BP, cuts the O2 to the ole brain,
and that’s why you can’t think straight Boyo.”
I had nothing for him, so I continued staring at the screen. He gave me one of his WhatTheFuckIsReallyFuckin’YouUp looks and finally said,
“You don’t have the Covid, do you, Boyo?”
I picked up my non-contact infrared thermometer, shot myself in the forehead for probably
the fiftieth time today, and said, “Look—97.9!”
“OkayOkayOkay! Take a f’in shower, get dressed, cause I know how to chase away your blues,
get you back on the PelotonExpressWayToHeaven— ReadyTeddyToLickAndSuckTheNewPus-say!”
He saw I didn’t react, so he pushed his face right up to the screen. “Don’t make me call
your upstairs BabyCake; tell her to check her floor cause Mr. Peepers from 10E drilled a f’in hole
in his ceilin’, so he can watch her brush her brush in the mornin’.”
This is what I have to deal with!
Let me also tell you... besides Meryl stealing half my identity, that the only way to get SomeSome was reincarnation,
and as a f’in woman, yet, there was another sharper stick in the eyeball reminding me of that infamous day.
Get this one, my FineFeatheryFriends! Reincarnation can also make you immune to the Covid!