Day 3

3.

Start Here… Insert credit card or other form of payment to include, but not limited to, cash, check, money order, small children (under 5), rubles, and last, but not least, goat fetuses. I swear that is what I heard on the other end of the line. Well, line isn’t the correct word when you are on a cell phone. Advertising moguls are sharks. No, they don’t swim around and try to look menacing with that creepy fin on their back. It is more the fact that they will charge you out of house and home if you let them.

So it is official. I have announced my candidacy for president, but nobody heard it. I guess it would have helped to have some advertising, a press conference, or even a bullhorn when I decided to scream it from the rooftop of my 1 story condo. Well, scream isn’t the correct word. I think faint whisper would sum it up much better. It would have been more effective on a soapbox down town. At least someone would have listened to me there.

Now what am I supposed to do? I just wasted too much money on advertising. Do I just sit around and hope that people will agree with my silent message? Somehow I don’t think that will work. I don’t think that will work at all. I still need to figure out how to fund my campaign… Where to travel… What to talk about… Why I’m even doing this… Oh and figuring out how I am supposed to eat with no money might be a good thing to filter through as well. I don’t think that a bum is really qualified for the job.

So I was trying to give some ideas to the advertising guys. Some ideas that I thought would make a very valid point. The first was “I know you don’t really give a shit, so why not vote for me?” They didn’t really seem to keen on that one. The second, “Every candidate is an asshole, so why not vote for the one with the biggest dick?” Once again this was turned down. They keep saying something about the FCC. While I don’t see what is not appropriate with either of those, we ended up settling on this one. “Why vote for the candidates of change when tomorrow will be the same anyway?” Trust me, I know. It isn’t anywhere near as good as my first two instant hits, but it does hold true to the same message. Why attack individual people when you can attack the whole system. It just seems like so much more fun this way.

While I guess I haven’t mentioned quite a few things so far. I’ve convinced two people to help me out in my battle for the round table. Two of my friends, well my only two friends really, offered up their lack of expertise towards the cause. Billy and Ron are good friends. I think if they had paying jobs, or some other sort of life they would tell me to take a flying leap, but since they don’t, they didn’t. I don’t know if they will be a help or a hindrance, but I couldn’t say no. It is my fault that they lost their jobs. Well, I guess it is kind of my fault. They seem so think so and I am all about the group thinking, mob mentality. If someone says something enough times I will probably start to believe it, even if it is complete bullshit.

Here is how it supposedly goes. I will remind you though that I don’t agree completely with the blame that is being laid at my meticulously manicured feet. And yes, they really are. Anyway, I was walking down the street to get some coffee. I was down town at this time. Traffic was pretty light. It was sunny and warm. That last statement has absolutely no relevance by the way. So there I was, minding my own business, in my desperate search for one of the many substances that I am addicted too. Ron and Billy work, well I think worked, down town at a little niche coffee place. As I sauntered closer to the shop I could smell the heavenly scent of French pressed coffee. The dark beans from Columbia filling my eyes.

Now I don’t know if it was from the lack of sleep, caffeine, common sense, or general hand-eye coordination, but I started to cross the street. I looked both ways I’m sure, and the road was deserted, but as I neared the far end of the crossing, I heard a terrible sound. The sound was that of the battle between friction and momentum. Momentum was winning by a head. As I look right, which was the improper direction to scan for cars, I see nothing that could cause the terrible racket. I swing my head left and it hits me. No, not the car. The fact that there was a behemoth readying it’s attack on my fragile cage of vitality. I’m figuring that this is the end, or at least a long trip to the local medical facility. Obviously, or needless to say even, I was spared. There was another bipedal who was not so lucky.

The crunch sound was exquisite, and almost beautiful in it’s perfection. I really had to fight a chuckle from splitting my face into a massive grin. I’m not sure if it was the fact that I was avoided, that I just got to see someone mowed down like a rainforest, or a mixture of both. I know what I think, but I’ll let you decide what you want to believe.

Anyway I lived, someone died, and my friends got fired. That is not why though. As the car derailed from the asphalt and catapulted onto the cement, another bystander, or good samaritan decided to scream a the top of her lungs. I’m sure it was meant as a warning, but if I was a litigious person I would definitely file charges for the hearing damage and emotional torment that this particular scream caused. I’m not that guy though. Either way, not only did that shriek threaten my tender sensibilities, but it also caused Ron to drop a coffee decanter. We are talking about one of those industrial sized glass jobbies. This caused some minor commotion in itself and a grenade sized proportion of glass shrapnel to scatter through the quaint little shop. Not only did pieces end up all over the floor, but in two customers eyes, one ladies throat, and Billy’s crotch. Billy was in the process of handing a customer one of the large paper cups filled to the brim with the steaming hot bounty of fine roasted beans. Billy released the cup in short order and grabbed his crotch. While this could have been considered offensive, the only customer who would have noticed it was busy focusing on something else. It turns out that the cup of coffee hit the ground, exploded, and scolded the customers left ear, right nostril, both hands, and even two thirds of his pinky toe that had been sticking out from his jesus sandals. Needless to say it was a bad day at work.

When their boss came back from breakfast he was not impressed at all. The shop was a wreck. People were bleeding. One might have been dying, but we still aren’t sure if he got up and walked away or if the paramedics retrieved him. Either way, the boss was being threatened with a lawsuit by at least one of the customers. It was determined that he could avoid the hassle if he fired the two individuals that were seen as responsible. To someone who had walked into the movie after the half way point, this would appear to have been Ron and Billy’s fault. It wasn’t, but they were relieved of their espresso duties in short order. Now they blame it on me. If I had just seen the car then it wouldn’t have happened. At least that was what they are trying to tell me. I’m not convinced of it yet, but I’ll only be able to lie to myself for so much longer.

So that is how Billy and Ron ended up on my campaign team. If nothing else, they make a mean cup of coffee. This is doubly true if you consider that I won’t give them glass wear to destroy.