I Love French Onion Soup!
Oh, God! The cheese. Dude, look at the fucking cheese all melted over the beef stock and onions and bread crouton things. Who thought of French Onion Soup? Was it really the French? Dude, the cheese just hangs over the sides of the little funny bowl thing with the handle. What is that, Gruyere cheese? There's so much of it and its on top of liquid. I mean, shit, look at this:

Thanks for the soup, Frenchies. I owe you one.

NEWSFLASH: RUSSIAN COMEDIAN YAKKOV SMIRNOFF AND RONALD REAGAN BEST OF BUDS
George Bush Sr. Reportedly Jealous, Seen Cutting Up Photographs of Smirnoff

William Tecumseh Sherman, Union Army General



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The flames were even more beautiful than I told you they would be, weren't they? The way they seemed to melt down the side of the roller rink, stretching themselves simultaneously towards the sky above, and also to you, laying in the gravel parking lot only a few yards away. You must have stayed outside of the burning building for five whole minutes, not moving an inch, simply staring with your mouth open and your face dripping sweat. It's a good thing the police and firemen travel so gaudily with all that high pitched racket, or else you may not have been able to slip away in time! The tractor proved to be faithful and strong, carrying you headlong into the belly of the Roller Rink in which you had fed so many years of your life. You were giggling (do you remember?) when you leapt from the leather bound spring loaded seat and rolled out onto the newly waxed oval skate floor (a job well done, even to the end). You even went so far as to twirl and twist as if you were one of the careless youths who so often frequent, or should I say frequented, the establishment. But you quickly realized you were no such youth, and as the tractor carrying 60 gallons of gasoline collided with the old fashioned furnace which you so often were made to wipe clean of dust and gum, a new sense of vitality and pride arose from within you. But of course you couldn't let that feeling linger long! The burst was so loud and sudden that you were knocked from your make believe skates onto the ground, and within an instant, the large hollow building was no longer a roller rink, but simply a series of walls vainly trying to contain a fire from enveloping the rest of the world. You ran as quickly as your old bones would move inside of your skin, and by the time you made it out of the building and into the moonlight, the fatigue overcame you. You collapsed to the gravel parking lot and struggled for what seemed like hours to catch your breath. It may have been a lack of oxygen to your brain, but when you looked up and saw the fire coaxing the Rink to its knees, you could have sworn the flames were smiling at you. You know what it was? They were proud of you for taking the first step towards your goal of bringing the joy of donuts to the world. Even the thick black smoke reaching into the night seemed to be moving with a touch of pride.
As you hurried through the streets away from the fire that was washing clean your past, you were already planning what move to make next. But before you could devote your energy to the next phase of the plan, you knew you had to rest and reflect on what it meant to have burned down the rink. Without the tractor, there would have been no fire. And without the fire, with all it's charity and compassion, there would still have been a Rink, solid as rock and shaped in perfect angles. Therefore, you headed directly to the 24-hour donut and coffee place on Lincoln Ave. and ordered a dozen donuts, six for you and six for the your ally the inferno. Your six were delicious; a glazed to begin with, then three jelly filled rolls, a chocolate, then an apple cinnamon to end. But the fire's six were perhaps the most glorious donuts you have ever had the pleasure of knowing with your tastebuds in your life. If pressed, you still couldn't recall exactly what sort of donuts they were, could you? They could have been coconut or maple just as easily as they could have been creme-filled. It was something about the way they slid down your throat that reminded you of more than just a snack, but of the wonders of your own childhood, and the possibility of your future. Of the world's future.
But, as you know, your wife wouldn't understand such romantic feelings as these, and it was a bit tricky explaining the next morning why your clothes were stained with soot and smelled of fire....

Donut Get Old...
Part II

It’s a really nice day out, isn’t it? Its still early in the morning, the sun is shining through your bedroom window, and you can hear the squirrels outside your window scuttling about the backyard. Those little rascals, you think, they have their fun, don’t they? They’ve got those big fluffy tails, those cute rectangle teeth jutting out of their face, and they’ve got their nuts. But they don’t have donuts. They don’t even have bagels, or as you like to call them, diet donuts. When you really think about it, it makes you sad and reflective for all those squirrels, and for every other poor beast that God made too simple to understand the jelly donut, the cruller, or the bear claw (the sweet kind, not the dangerous kind, silly!). Maybe there is something you can do about that, too….
All these “what if’s” have got you thinking in pretzel knots! First, you got in your head the idea of living in your own personal don-utopia for the rest of life, never sharing the joys of the glaze with a single soul! Now that you think about all those squirrels, doggies, gophers and Chinese who have lived a sheltered, pastry-less life, you begin to want to help them. It was selfish of you to dream only about yourself, when there are so many who are in need!
You’ve made your mind up: you are gong to bring the rapture of donuts to the world! You will show every man, beast, and foreigner what it’s like to order a “munchkin” at a drive-thru window! Ah, you’ve made your mind up. Doesn’t it feel good to have a mission?
But you’re still worried about your job, wife, and kids, aren’t you? Well, let’s think about first things first- you need to get rid of that Roller Rink job. But you know the truth, it won’t be easy to quit. You’ve never been very good at confrontation, even since you were a little boy in grade school. Remember when Brandon Funston took your milk money one day, and you were too chicken to stand up for yourself? And what did you do? You ran him over with your papa’s tractor the very next day while he was walking to school, all because you couldn’t stand to face him again. Well you’re not going to shy away from confrontation anymore, because now you’re a man with a mission!
Let’s be honest, as long as there is a Roller Rink, you will have to work there, and as long as you work at the Roller Rink, you cannot go ahead with your mission. So really, the only option is to make the Roller Rink go away. But you are not a magician, you can’t just make the Roller Rink *poof* disappear. But don’t give up yet, you don’t want this to turn into another Brandon Funston Tractor fiasco. Hmm, tractor…that gives you an idea….

The tractor itself was easy enough to find. Behind your house there is a construction zone with all sorts of heavy machinery, and who’s going to notice one industrial tractor missing? The 200 gallons of gasoline and flamethrower were slightly more of a challenge, but there’s no need to recount that long and complicated story. The most important thing to worry about now, is carrying out the first phase of your plan: Operation Blow Up the Roller Rink. Tonight will be a perfect time for you to take action….

To be continued....

Donut Get Old Being Pushed Around?

A Story About Living Your Dreams

Part I
Man alive, do you love donuts! You can’t get enough of them! You love to smell them, name them, throw them in the air and catch them, run in place while holding them, and most of all, EAT them! If you had one wish, it would be to live the rest of your life with a never-ending supply of donuts, so that you never had to work or care for your family or think at all. All you would have to do is be with your donuts! There’s just one problem: you do have to work and care for your family. Life can’t be all about donuts, after all.
But what if, just imagine for a moment, you didn’t have to do all these things? Just think to yourself, what if I didn’t have a family to feed and support anymore, what if my wife and two little children were *poof* gone? Boy, that’s a cozy thought, isn’t it? It’s nice to think about all that free time that you could spend taking your donuts out to brunch, or treating them to a movie, or showing them how to paper mache. Maybe you’d show your donuts how to shoot “hoops”, or make dunk shots in the backyard. You might even read them some of your favorite poetry, the poems that make you glad to be alive.
Imagine if you didn’t have to go to your job at the Roller Rink ever again. No more little boys and girls zooming around in circles and giggling and wearing high socks with neat patterns. No more cold dirty mozzarella sticks on the floor to sweep up. No more having to reach up into the vending machines to knock loose the $2 pairs of socks. You would never have to wear socks again! But you could keep the nice love songs that play on repeat over the speakers in the ceiling. You could even listen to your favorite love song all the time, the one about the man with a hole in his heart left by his girl who died in a car accident. It’s probably the saddest song you know, but still, it reminds you of the hole that a DONUT has! And there’s nothing sad about that!
But don’t get too comfortable, buster, you have to go to work soon to open up the Rink. Without you, there wouldn’t be anyone to sweep, mop, and occasionally wax the big wooden oval floor. Where would all the little kids skate, and flirt with eachother, and compare the sizes of their private parts in the locker room? At least, that’s what you assume they do back there, because what else would they need a special room for? Without you, there wouldn’t be anyone for the kids to whisper and giggle about, to point at and make jokes about. The little kids wouldn’t have their fun at your expense. They wouldn’t get to laugh away their precious childhood while you are scraping the gum off of 50 separate pairs of skates. Hmm, now that you think about, you don’t much enjoy your job at the Roller Rink, huh?

Well you know, there is something you could do about that...

to be continued...

The Reason why I'll never do well at a job interview:

Potential Employer (Nice and Intensely Sophisticated): Douglas, thank you for coming. (shake shake shake). So, tell me about yourself a little. What are your hobbies?

Me: Drinking and............................................(staring out the window).............................................

P.E.N.I.S.- ......drinking and...?

Me- mmmm.....tough one. Tough One. Masturbation. Pasta. Um, I guess being hungover is sort of the same thing as drinking....

P.E.N.I.S- I see. Well, ok. What would you say your best asset is?

Me- I think my best asset is prolly (Sneeze). Oh man, HAHA! Look, I just shot snot all over me! HAHA!

P.E.N.I.S- Oh, my, let me get you something for th-

Me- And asian chicks too.

P.E.N.I.S- What?

Me- As a hobby. Asian chicks....but maybe...yeah I guess thats kind of the same thing as masturbation. Isn't it?

P.E.N.I.S- Hm. Well, where would you see yourself in three years?

Me- In the mirror.

P.E.N.I.S- I see.

Me- Get it?

P.E.N.I.S- mm hmm.

Me- Also, maybe at the NBA finals where the Cavs finally made it because by then they would have dumped Eric Snow and finally found a decent point gaurd who knows how to shoot the fucking ball. Right? And I'd prolly sneak into the V.I.P section or something so I could get Nachos, the good nachos with little jalepenos and tomatoes and maybe if they had chicken.....not the crappy nachos that you get in the outer concourse that don't give you enough cheese and the chips always have too much salt on them. And prolly drinking like my fourth or fifth beer, which would prolly make a grand total of ten or eleven because I'd definitely have drank a few before the game and on the way to the stadium. Man, I'd be hammered. And then I'd be too drunk to pay attention to the game and I'd just be staring at that hot chick who's three rows down and like 1.2.3....6 seats in from the aisle. No, the other one, with the dark hair. Yeah her, I'd be ogling her and getting ready to yell something lewd and tasteless like "Hey Honey Butt", but I'd be so drunk that I'd switch the words around and say "Hey Bunny Hut!" and then everyone would turn around and look at me and I'd say "Hey, who died and made you all FAT?!" And then to the bathroom because jesus christ I haven't pissed since that Job interview three years ago.

P.E.N.I.S- I have no idea what to say to you. I want you to leave, please.

Me- HEY HONEY BUTT.

P.E.N.I.S- Bonnie, could you please call security? Mr. Cornett is peeing on my desk.

Me- HEY BUNNY HUT!


See? I already know what would happen if I tried to get an office job. Not worth it.