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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #43 |
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-----------------------Insomnia With Sound Effects------------------------
by Stephen Fuller
heh. It's now 4:53. Ante Merridien, that is.
For some reason, I just can't sleep. I'm not sure why. I just can't.
Maybe i've got a guilty conscience.....Nahhh. My life isn't interesting
enough for that. Maybe it's because I slept until three this afternoon.
Couldn't be. Too much sleep never kept me from a good nap.
So what is it? ...........Maybe it's that monster under my bed?
You know, I think that's it!
I mean, he's a nice monster and all, but still....there are some things
that just come with that job. The acidic, green slime that oozes from his
pores, for example. Even his uncontrolable urges to make gurgling sounds
every few seconds. I mean, neither of those traits tends to be endearing
when you're trying to sleep. And he overcompensates on both. Just because
his name is Chester. He-he! CHESTER!
Really. If you're eight feet tall and have long, pointed fangs, I really
don't think anyone cares how much slime you ooze. But Chester tries to be
the best oozer there is.
As i said before, though, he is a nice monster. Just a little aggravating
at times. Tonight he's been chattering about philosophy of all things.
Hell, I like a good religious debate as much as the next insomniac, but I
have work in the morning! I really couldn't give to whacks of a kraken's
tail whether Adam and Eve's fall from grace was the begining of man's rise
or not. All I want is some sleep.
And this goes on every night!
I came home the other night to find Chester oozing slime onto my good
couch. He was in the living room reading "The Cuckoo's Egg" and watching
some TV show about hackers. Hackers! Can you believe this guy. He didn't
shut up for thirty five hours about the damn "ESTABLISMENT PROPOGANDA."
Kept telling me how the NBC reporters were going to be "first against the
wall when the revolution comes." All the while sitting there, oozing slime
on my cushions and gurgling loud enough to wake my neighbors.
I swear they must think I have some severe digestive disorder.
He's in the other room now looking over my sample ballot. I left him there
ten minutes ago giggling on the floor. Giggling, gurgling and oozing. He's
still cracking up in there. "Why?" you ask.
Because Lyndon LaRouche's name is above Ross Perot's on the ballot, that's
why.
Shut up! It's not funny. You wouldn't laugh if this guy were oozing on your
floor just because some damn midget is listed two lines down from where the
media puts him. I mean, Christ!
How would you like to have Chester under your bed? Huh? How would you like
him throwing these fucking thoughts at you ALL NIGHT LONG?
Sheeesh. I mean, why should I get a lecture on why I should convert to the
Church of Kallisti at three o'clock in the bloody morning? No one should
have to deal with this. But Nooooooo! I gotta get a damn, oozing, gurgling,
ten-foot tall, intellectual, liberal moster! I can't get one that just goes
"OOGA OOGA!" I have to get one that wants to carry on a damn debate EVERY
NIGHT.
I hope you people get one of these things for yourselves! That'll teach
you!
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