The 2019 Twitter Awards!

Alright, so that story went okay. I might come back and fill in parts 3 through 88 one day but I think you can use your imagination and slot in what happened from Manitoba to Vancouver ... with the hints in the last chapter the middle portion seems self-evident enough.

Let's do the Twitter Awards again!

Past Awards on this blog saw the medals doled out as so:

2017

Bronze: George Wallace
Silver: Iron Sheik
Gold: Mr. T

Runner Up (4th place): Jose Canseco


2018

Bronze: Mr. T
Silver: Norm MacDonald
Gold: George Wallace

Runner Up (4th place): Jose Canseco
Life Time Achievement Award: Iron Sheik


I'm instituting a rule this year that if you've already won the Gold then you cannot be eligible for another New Writings on Subjects II Stronger twitter awards tournament (though you are automatically entered into the 2020 Twitter Awards Tournament of Champions). The reasoning behind this is that if I just do Mr. T and George Wallace in the medals again this year ... I might as well just copy and paste the 2017 or 2018 article instead of writing a new one ... and I wanna write a new one today ... so this no repeat Gold Medals law has been written into the books forever and for always.

Since they are still great at twittering, this years co-winners of the Lifetime Achievement Award are George Wallace and Mr. T for their lifetime of entertaining contributions to the 140 and now 280 character world.

Alright so who are this years finalists!? Drum roll please....

Nice drum roll. thank you.

This year's esteemed finalists are (some are grouped up):

Jose Canseco!

The Women of Wrestling!

Dennis Rodman!

Tim Heidecker and Gregg Turkington!

Alright before we get to the awards lets give a warm applause for this year's runner up ... for the THIRD YEAR STRAIGHT YEAR....

... JOSE CANSECO!

Jose Canseco announced that he is very likely to run for President in 2020 and according to tweets by the former baseball slugger, these are some of his campaign promises:

 1.  Construct a Bullet Train that runs on Solar Energy that will connect the states of California, Nevada, and Arizona to form a bullet-train connected tri-state area where inhabitants can go to Vegas whenever they want ... for FREE.

2. Legalize Time Travel and begin heavily investing in it.

3. Invest heavily in space travel.

4. Officially make aliens and Bigfoot citizens of the United States of America!

5. Put the kibosh on the "wall" and instead invest in lazer-android-robots to walk along the southern boarder to keep it safe from intruders.

 6. Abolish taxes.

There's some good stuff here, I must say. For far too long, we as a society, have cast scorn upon Bigfoot. To offer an official state ammends to him and make him a citizen is far over due. We should even pay reparations to Bigfoot. He's been in hiding for far too long and this revolutionary new approach to him shall finally reconcile our differences with the fabled Man Beast creature of the wilds.

Abolish taxes? Yes, yes, and yes! Oh, and did I mention ... Yes!

The bullet train is a really good idea. I mean say you live in L.A. but you really wanna go gamblin' ... wouldn't a free solar powered bullet train to Vegas really hit your fancy and wiggle your dandy? It would mine.

As for Time Travel, time travel legislation is controversial and has been since Vermin Supreme made it part of his platform in the early 2000s. The quandary that came from Vermin's time travel proposition of going back in time involved the proposed killing of Hitler ... and a debate began of if he would kill baby Hitler. Obviously, logically, the easiest time to stop Hitler in a time travel scenario would be in his infancy. Qualms began to appear if killing a baby who hadn't yet done anything at that point would be moral ... and many suggested he do the honorable thing and fight adult Hitler and his entire army like a man to kill him. I remember even taking part in some of these silly debates online. The topic even somehow managed to be on Jeb Bush's agenda at one point in 2016 ... which was odd. (For the record, I think any excursion into the past to kill Hitler is a great idea but I do prefer the scenario of the killing of adult Hitler as opposed to baby Hitler).

Anyways, Jose Canseco is biting off a can of worms with Time Travel but his other promises make up a pretty great platform in total.

So, I am officially supporting Jose Canseco's 2020 run and hope that he wins the Presidential Title.

Now on to the Medals!

Bronze Medal: Tim Heidecker and Gregg Turkington!

Entertainment Genre: Comedy and Genuine First-Rate Movie Expertise
Favorite "Feud": w/ each other

I'm really starting to think that these two don't like each other or something. While many think these modern day Siskel and Eberts are like two-peas-in-the-same pod and are close as brothers ... part of me sees behind the facade whilst they review movies at times. Their twitter feeds lead me to believe that tension truly is brewing behind the scenes in the hearts of these two esteemed film buffs.

There's something in Gregg's eyes sometimes that really makes me think he's hiding something ... it's almost as if he doesn't like Tim ... at all ... but maybe I'm just reading into the show too much.

The shoe may have turned to the other foot in recent days as Gregg with the blessing of the mysterious Bruce Delgado (the new owner of the show) ... will be the HOST, not guest, not co-host, but HOST the On Cinema Oscar Special on Adult Swim Live Stream on February 24th of this year. From tweets of Tim lately ... it looks as if he's not the biggest fan of Gregg either. Part of me really thinks these two are not on good terms.

I don't know ... in the end I'm sure the Special will go off without a hitch ... but another part of me thinks that this tension that may or may not exist behind the scenes could just boil over on February 24th. Who am I kidding? There's no way these two don't get along ... they are great friends who both have love for movies in common. When you have movies what else do you need? I'm sure Tim deep down is very very happy that Gregg is the new host of the Oscar Special and wishes his friend luck.

Hmmmm, then again, maybe it's just me, I don't know, but, it's a possibility these two have some sort of issue with one another. Does anyone else suspect this or is it just me?

I guess we'll just have to wait until the Oscar Special to see how this all unfolds.

Silver Medal: The Women of Wrestling
 

Entertainment Genre: Wrestling
Favorite "Feud": w/ each other

I haven't really dug it or watched Wrestling in ... wow ... we're talking well over a decade I'd say ... but it's getting good, and fresh, and new. It's centering more on the women now and it really is something new and interesting. 

I probably couldn't name one male wrestler on today's roster but I could name probably most of the lady wrestlers. A lot of them are second generation too ... like Nattie is Jim Niedhart's daughter and Charlotte is Ric Flair's daughter. They have the wrestling in their blood and their bones.

The twitter feeds of the lady wrestlers are a show in itself these days ... they go at each other ... HARD ... like vicious vicious animals on a daily basis. If you follow the women wrestlers your twitter feed is always being filled with hot feuds and sexy trash talk.

They got funny stuff though too, like I think I remember one dude tweeted at "The Man" (who's a woman) that her nickname wasn't suiting her ... and she replied that she met "Stone Cold" Steve once and his hand, when she shook it, if memory served her right, was only luke warm, not even cold at all ... in which she came to the conclusion that ... sometimes nicknames aren't to be taken like super literally ... as to which I am certain the fellow was downright aghast to learn this.

Unlike esteemed film buffs Gregg Turkington and Tim Heidecker who I think may possibly dislike each other behind the scenes ... I think these ladies have a lot of fun with their angles and probably are pretty close in real life. They play off each other really well and seem to be having a lot of fun with their art form. The feuds in wrestling now are the ones I remember as a kid more so than how crazy they got at one point. I prefer these catty yet fun-natured trash talk feuds to the things they used to do that made me stop watching.

I mean, they did bits on Wrestling with the Big Boss Man (who was like in my top 5 faves in my youthful days) in the 2000s where he ... 1) Ate a guy's dog and 2) Tied a guy's dad's casket to his car and drove away with it at a funeral. I mean, these bits are just dumb. You know? They are stupid, dumb, and bad. It's not Wrestling ... it's another genre of art, things that are more suited for like horror movies or something ... not Wrestling. 

Plus, as we learned from the smash hit TV show Seinfeld in the 90s ... Women fights are always hot n' cool. As Jerry so elegantly put it....

"Men think when women are clawing and grabbing at each other ... there's a chance that they might somehow ... kiss," -Seinfeld, J.

Yes, it's true. Another esteemed quote that comes to mind about Ladies Wrestling comes from the venerable Mojo Nixon who once said...

"I'm in looooooove with a Lady Wresler! (Why?) ... because stinky women ... DO IT BETTER!" -Nixon, M.

Good point, Moj. All kidding aside though, I think Lady Wrestlers of this era are really good role models for young ladies to be honest. The young ladies need like bad-ass role models in their lives too, you know? Growing up in the 80s we boys could look up to a wrestler and learn that we need to say our prayers, and eat our vitamins, and do other stuff like that. Now women have those positive role models in their lives. Which is great. Girls are getting action figures and T shirts for their birthdays of female wrestlers now a days. Which is cool.

On top of it all it seems that all rumors, ruminations, and whatnotery are pointing to the first ever female main event at Wrestle Mania which will be History in the making (or Herstory in this case).

History in the Making. History in the Making .... It will be .... A HAPPENING! IT IS GOING TO BE A HAPPENING!

(on a side note concerning female wrestling and twitter ... there is a twitter campaign headed by artisanal comedian Potylo, R. to post-humously enshrine Chyna into the WWE Hall of Fame ... which is a campaign worth taking note of if you are a fan of female wrestling).



Gold Medal: Dennis Rodman

Entertainment Genre: Basketball
Favorite "Feud": w/ ????

Wow, Dennis Rodman has had some kind of year. Let's look back at the Worm's 2018...

He brokered a meeting between the President of the United States of America and the Rogue Asian State of North Korea ... and followed it up by giving one of the most emotional and insipiring interviews CNN has ever aired in its history of broadcasting ... even more emotional than back in the 90s when they interviewed that little girl's parents after that little girl got trapped in that well. I mean this interview was emotional, man. Like the GOATest emotional interview ever.

On top of all that, he re-awoke like a phoenix on social media in 2018 ... making his first big splash announcing that he wants to run for President in 2020 while riding a donkey. This reminded me of a bit on SNL (that I might have dreamt because I might have been half awake at the time) ... of like Will Ferrell hosting a political talk show while they all rode donkeys? Was that a thing? Riding my Donkey Political Talk Show? It was, eh?
 
Then he proceeded to basically spam every NBA related post with empty messages which inclined many users to ask how Dennis can tweet absolutely Nothing so often. To tweet nothing you need an Internet Gold Card, guys, and to acquire one is a long process that starts with deleting sys32 in your registry and eating things you're really not supposed to eat, etc, etc.

In between debating if Bron or MJ is the greatest of all time and constantly almost ad-nauseum announcing that he's leaving instagram ... Dennis had time to cook this number up ...

https://twitter.com/dennisrodman/status/1089736134236741634?lang=en

With Dennis, an emotional guy by nature, you thought he was really going to say something like "omg" but lo, it turned out just to be a good ol' fashioned Rick Roll.

The thing about Dennis too is, his potential is sky high, I mean, this guy is totally out-of-synch with everything and is marching to his own marching band.

Will he be the next Secretary of State, will he be the greatest tweeter of all time? Will he be Jose Canseco's running mate in 2020? So many questions, so little answers. The future is bright, gang!


Congratulations to Mr. Rodman for winning this Golden Effigagy. Effigy? What is an effigy? A statuette I think ... like a statue but smaller, is that it? Yeah. Congratulations on winning this years Golden Effigy!

Part 89 of The Journey: The Final Chapter

Ongoing Index:
Part 1
Part 2
(Parts 3 through 88 are Lost to the Sands of Time)

I've hit writers block with "Manitoba" .... I'm not coming up with any ideas ... sooo ... we're gonna do the Ending of the story first and then work backwards from there, today.



The Journey Part 89
 -a short story by D.


I finally arrived in Vancouver and made it to Tathagata Buddha on Vancouver Island's Thunder Monastery. It was a pretty nice temple. We all made it .... me, Wes, and Connecticut.

Let me describe it for you,

The vast peaks of the mountains were dotted with wind-swept trees,
They were magnificent to the eye,
Canyons were painted with rain-soaked forests,
Rivers surrounded the Monastery,
Vancouver was the Pacific Ocean's Pearl,
It looked really great....

Crossing Canada wasn't easy on foot but we made it. I'm glad I befriended Wes, the street urchin, and my old friend Connecticut along the way for they made the Journey less troublesome and lonely.

I met Wes in Cornwall, and after a strange melee with some unword-by hobos who did not live by their word, we learned that he was the re-incarnation of Erlang-Shen ... so we became fast friends. He talks funny ... but that's okay.

I met Connecticut in Manitoba, after having a strange dream about him in Toronto where he was playing video games and making movies. It turned out he was the reincarnated spirit of uhhhh John A. MacDonald or some Prime Minister or something.

I made a vow back in Saskatchewan that I'd visit this Monastery if I ever made it to Vancouver Island and now that we're here and the Journey is over ... I'm sorta sad. It was fun. There was whacky hardships and weird-ass ghosts along the way ... and let's not forget those snake monster women in Alberta ... but in the end .... it was worth it to walk across this great land.

"Say Moister .... are we here?" Asked Wes the urchin.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh, I think so," answered Connecticut.

"Yeah. We're here. This is Vancouver's Thunder Monastery where the Tathagata Buddha lives..." I said.

We walked past the large doors, they were intimidating doors, but they only seemed that way because those football players back in Moose Cavity Tooth, Alberta built this place up so much. Man, Moose Cavity Tooth, the place right next to Medicine Hat ... what a scene that was.

We asked the attendant if we could meet the big guy ... and he said, "Yes, this way, please."

"Greetings travelers," said the Buddha.

"Hi," we said.

"You seek enlightenment, gentlemen?" He asked.

"Yeah," we replied.

"Cool.... but I'm afraid you can't have it..." he said.

"Why though?" We inquired.

"You only experienced 107 hardships on your Journey.... you are ONE short," he told us.

"Really?," we asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Did you count the time me and Wes saved that city from the zombie beavers?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"What about the time we rescued the ancient artifacts back in Canmore?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Man, Buddha ... what did we miss? What didn't we check off our sufferings check list, man?" I asked.

"Do you recall back in Cornwall ... when you ordered many hamburgers but only ate seven of them?"

"Yeah, the pyramid platter? What about it?" I asked.

"You see, the trial of hamburgers was not completed. You did not complete it...." He said.

"Yeah? Buddha .... come on, man ... like..." I started.

"I can teleport you back there to complete it since you made it so close to completing all 108 trials ... but the trial will be 100 fold more difficult now..." he interjected.

"You can do that? Ok," I said.

I braced myself as he said the incantations and a mist surrounded us and we were zoomed back to Cornwall ... land of Turkeys and of Hobos... thankfully neither would come in to play this time around as the Final Trial of The Journey was the....


Hamburger Eating Contest

"Come one, come all, for the annual Hamburger Eating Contest!" The announcer roared over the PA system.

I entered the contest at the last minute. I didn't even know what the rules were to be honest ... but the announcer helped with that...

"Each contestant will be presented with 25 Hamburgers stacked in a pyramid on a silver platter ... the first to consume all the hamburgers wins!" He said.

What have I gotten myself into now? This sounds dumber than that time we tumbled down the hill and almost lost our lunches! A Hamburger eating contest, eh? What a lark this is.

I like burgers but I can't eat 25 of them. Can I? The alarm sounded and confetti shot out of a cannon ... it had begun. I looked to my left and saw everyone eating like mad ... I looked to my right and saw everyone eating like crazy. I picked up the first burger and took a bite...

.... I had another burger-related epiphany. The world stopped in time, totally in place, I looked around and really realized then and there that Life is Pretty Kooky, guys. Life is pretty whacky, you know? This burger contest might be my only real chance to ever be the Hero of This Story. So I ate....

....and ate, and ate, and ate, and ate. I ate all the burgers while time had stopped. When time re-started again .... no one else was even on their third burger ... yet I was done. It was a real sight.

"..... and the winner is.....!" The announcer said.

.... all eyes turned to me. The burger champion. It was the biggest Moment of Glory in my Entire Journey!!!!

Thinking back on it all. Was it worth it? If I didn't win this burger contest I might have said "No" to that question but something in me changed after the burger contest. I finally understood it all. I finally got it. It all made a bunch of sense.

Hamburgers. It's all about Hamburgers. You thought it was about turkeys? No. You read that whole chapter wrong. I was worried about the dumb turkeys that whole time for no reason and my worry led to so many hardships. There was never any reason to ever have invested that much time and thought into turkeys. I should have invested those resources of thought and of time into hamburgers.

It WASN'T the turkeys that represented unity, grace, and giving. It was the burgers ... this whole time. I even finally understand why that mysterious ghost-hobo was so mad when I offered him the turkey.

Tathagata Buddha teleported us back to Vancouver from Cornwall as soon as he realized I had fulfilled my trials and achieved enlightenment. We got to talking about hamburgers and stuff ... me and him. He knew a lot about 'em but what really struck me is that ... so did I. I knew a LOT about hamburgers.

The buns, the sauce, the beef, the lettuce, the tomatoes ....

Eating one is maybe one of life's most greatest joys. If you can teach yourself to really enjoy a hamburger... and I mean really dig it ... you can learn to enjoy any of life's great mysteries and endeavors.

People seem to think you are born happy and that happiness is taken away from you at some point in your life due to some hardship or suffering. That's not true at all. You are born to a world you don't understand and happiness is another foreign concept just like every other concept. You have to teach yourself "happiness" and learn to be happy like any other skill in life. It takes work. It takes time. It takes effort.

It doesn't have to be hamburgers. Maybe you're a vegetarian... it's just the act of finding a basic means of "enjoyment" and teaching your senses and perceptions to really understand how to enjoy something. It could be a game, a book, a movie, a burger ... something small. Something basic ... and then applying that formula you learned to Everything Else.

When you figure out your happiness formula, keep it basic. The more basic it is... the better. When your formula for enjoyment in life starts getting too complicated or encroaches on other people's formulas for enjoying their lives ... you should go back to the drawing board and re-work your formula. That's all. No big deal.

Tathagata Buddha sat above two pillars. Atop of the first pillar to his left was a silver platter and stacked in a pyramid shape .... was turkeys. To his right atop the other pillar was the same silver platter stacked with another pyramid.... that of burgers.

 ....and for the briefest moment ... and maybe the only time ever, past present or future, Life Made Total Sense To Me.


Life Made Total Sense to Me.

Now I realize that I am what I am. Just a guy who likes Hamburgers.....



Buddha asked me, "Would you like to hear a prognostic poem which foretells your life's course?"

I responded, "You mean like an Animal House sort of ending kinda thing that says what happened to me after the narrative ends?"

Buddha responded, "Yes."

...but I said I didn't wanna know. I'm probably just gonna live to some ripe old age and then one day while eating a hamburger and watching the tides bore in .... maybe I'll just dissipate into dust or something.


Or who knows .... maybe I'll go out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter....




THE END?

The 13th Hobo of Cornwall......

Let's keep going with the short story, gang.

Ongoing Index:
Part 1

(I was re-reading this for typos/errors today and I should note before you read it, that similar to the Swamp short story from last year, where elements of camp spookiness are introduced with little warning to the reader ... that there are some "camp-fire ghost story" moments in this ... so if you're not a fan of like spooky stuff ... you might not like this. The Swamp was more B-movie monster stuff while this one is more ghostella camp-fire stuff).

The Journey
-a short story by D.


Part 2 

......there better not be more than twelve hobos underneath that bridge.

I really hoped there wasn't more than twelve of 'em under there. If there was, then the laws of Even Steven would have to apply. I'd have to make some kind of hobo garbage fire and cook all the turkeys and carve them so I can distribute it all equally amongst the hobos ... whilst if there were exactly twelve hobos ... I could just give them each one turkey. Now, if there's actually less than twelve hobos under there then, in that case-scenario, I could give each a turkey and then we could do trivia or parlor games for the rest of them.

Oooooh, hobo trivia and games sounds fun, I love that. I started to think up my questions for them to win the bonus turkeys ... Jeopardy style questions, you know? Like Carnac style questions like ...

"Hey you hobos ... the answer is: 'O'er a toilet or maybe under a toilet and let it sit for one month..."

And one of the smarter hobos under the bridge would pipe up with bonus turkeys lighting up in his eyes .... "HOW TO MAKE REALLY GOOD PRISON WINE!"

....and I'd say with utmost professionalism, "Bingo, daddy-o, you're as right as rain, here's the last of the extra bonus turkeys."

I would have made a great game show host. Hey, hold up a second, who says there's less than twelve under there? I haven't even got there yet.

Maybe I should do some reconnaissance first to see how many there are before I even go through with this. What if there's like a hundred of them under there? I'm not going under some bridge that has over a hundred hobos under it. I can't feed that many with twelve turkeys anyhow so it'd be a waste of time to begin with. Gee, sometimes you really just can't get rid of an pyramid-armful of replacement turkeys can you?

I made my way to a small nook in the road before the bridge that had a bit of topography that would let me get some height and some line of sight underneath that there bridge. I got a few feet up the nook and put my hand over my eye as a makeshift visor and looked out yonder way. There were quite a few figures under the bridge ... I'm gonna go ahead and assume that they are all hobos but maybe a few of the figures are the hobo's dogs though. Would I have to feed hobo dogs with these turkeys too? I guess, but maybe not as big of portions as for the hobos themselves. Alright, looks as though there's about sixteen individual silhouettes down there ... hopefully four are hobo dogs ... that way I can give one turkey to each of the twelve hobos and be on my merry-enough way. No, I should still cook them all and divide it up equal between the sixteen, these hobo dogs have to eat too. How am I gonna cook these? How do I get myself into situations like this, even? Oh well, let's get these turkeys underneath that bridge to these sixteen silhouettes and figure out how to cook them all later. First things first as they say.

I made my way down and under the bridge right straight deep into the hobo encampment. It didn't smell that bad for a hobo lair, to be frank. There seemed to be no actual hobo dogs just actual human hobos ... which meant I'd need to cook all the turkeys to divide them up evenly and without issue. I started to scan the hobos to see their relative body frames to see how much they'd each probably eat. I did the mental calculations and then made my opening statements to these hobos....

"Hey there hobos," I said.

"Hey," some of them said ... the others just muttered inconsistent and incomprehendable garble towards me.

"So, uh, do any of you hobos like turkey? I got about twelve extras over here!" I said as I motioned my arms full of the turkey pyramid to them.

"We sure do but those are raw turkeys. You need to cook 'em before any of us'll chow down on 'em," said one of the hobos.

"Yeah, I know, I wasn't just like gonna give you raw turkeys. Don't you hobos have like a makeshift stove? Like a, uh, a garbage can fireplace or something like that?" I asked.

"Yeah, we got a garbage can. Yeah. We got one of those under this bridge by the lanai. We have some stuff to burn too."

"Cool, you seem like such sweet hobos. Let's fire up that ol' garbage can!" I said with renewed enthusiasm for this endeavor.

We got it lit up pretty quickly, old brambles and newspapers were burning in the burgundy can like a nice vertical campfire. I fashioned a nice pointy stick into a spit and started working the first turkey over the garbage can fire. It smeeeeeeeeelled soooo gooooood. Wow. All the hobos started gathering around me to smell it and watch it cook. I took this moment, this moment of brief barbeque related social popularity to meet each one of the sixteen hobos. I gave them brief interviews as we watched the turkeys cook. I will relate to you now the important information from each of those sixteen interviews I conducted.

They were cool some of them. One of them told me he used to be the Prime Minister of Canada but I didn't believe him. His name was Salty Sainte Claire and I have never seen that name in any history book of Canadian Prime Ministers. If he was Prime Minister of Canada it must have been pretty recently or more likely he is just making it up.... or is very crazy.

There was this guy, Pancake Jack, who I assumed was named that because he likes pancakes but turns out they started calling him that after he got his foot run over by a truck. Poor guy.

Armstrong, boring hobo, just a standard out-of-his-mind smelly hobo. Nothing interesting about him, really.

Armstrong's wife Brumhilda was pretty cool though. She told me she was a ghost but I didn't believe her.

Some of 'em had super sad stories like Paul, he was a normal guy that went nuts after his family ran away from him. When it's time to divide up the turkey ... I think I'm gonna give Paul a double portion because I feel for the guy, you know?

The rest stunk and I kinda just half-listened to their stories. When I counted them all again ... I was pissed. There was only twelve of them here ... but in my first count ... I remember there being sixteen of 'em.

"There's twelve of you hobos under this bridge?" I asked the hobos.

"No, there's thirteen of us ... but Alton Jackerye don't eat." Pancake Jack told me.

"Why don't Alton Jackerye eat"? I asked Pancake. Damn that's a mysteriously cool name, though.

"He don't eat cause he's dead like Brumhilda...." Pancake informed me.

"He don't eat because he's dead? That's um, that's weird though, man." I said.

"Yeah."

Ok, this was a friggin' bad idea coming down underneath this bridge. These hobos seemed chill and cool but they are starting to wig me out and shake me loose. I debated inwardly if I should skedaddle outta here or go talk to Alton Jackerye. What am I so afraid of? There's no such damn thing as ghosts. I walked over to the slumped over shadowy figure of Alton Jackerye....

"Hey, you don't eat old brother?" I asked the faceless shadow.

"Nah." He said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Cause I'm dead." He said.

"Ohh...."

"You gotta problem with that, man?"

"No....."

"Then scram!"

I was feeling a little annoyed with this mystery hobo. What was his deal? I think I'm gonna prod and poke it out of his shadowy interior ....

"Soooo, uh, what's more fun, man ... bein' alive or bein' dead there Alton Jackerye?" I asked him.

"Hm? Alive."

"Why?"

"I could taste food when I was alive...."

"Food is good. I made a whole mess of turkey ol' friend ... you sure you don't wanna break this dead man gimmick and come eat some?"

I waved a plate of smokin' n' pipin' hot turkey right in front of his nose...... he didn't even flinch an inch. Did not even flinchaninch, Not even a one. What the hell is up with this hobo? I've never met a hobo who regarded a warm meal with such a lackadaisical response ... I'd even describe it as being outright disdain for food.

"I told ya..... I DON'T EAT!"

"Ok, Alton Jackerye, you don't. I believe you. So you're dead?"

"Me? Ya. I died in the big ol' FAG building fire about ten years ago. I accidentally burned it down with a cigar on a carpet one night shift. Burned me up."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yup. Dyin' is bad but I feel guilty too for the damage to the FAG building, which was a company of high regard in Cornwall. Also ... guilt for the Bystander."

"The Bystander?"

"Yuuup. Poor kid. Some poor little urchin kid. Was looking for cans or clams or something by the road side."

I froze. My body could not move. My brain was nailed to my skull and could not even lick an ounce of sense in any direction it tried to. There is no way that it could be the same kid. There's no way....

"Yuuuuuuuuuuup, I met him a coupla times in town. Had a funny way of talkin', you know? Could barely understand his verbiage at times. I feel bad about the FAG building fire. It eats me up.... even in Death."

I'm out of here. I can't. I just can't. That kid ... it can't be. What is going on? This scene, man. This scene, man? It 'aint kosher duuuuuuude. This mysterious shadowy (yet strikingly interesting) hobo is friggin' FREAKING ME OUT!

"You asked me what's better bein' dead or bein' alive when you met me ... right before you taunted me with that turkey that you know I can't eat and enjoy. Well, lemme ask you something, man...."

"Okay Alton Jackerye. What is it?"

"Let my hidden-most and never-ending voice of malfeasance call out to you from the endless tests-of-time of never-more, my friend, and ask you...."

"Ask me?"

I looked around again, now there was only six figures around me I could make out. From sixteen, to twelve, to thirteen, and now just six. There was little consistency with the amount of apparitions under this bridge. What did Alton Jackerey want to ask me?

"What do you like better?"

"I like...."

I know where this guy is going with this. He probably paid that kid with the poking stick to hang out on the outskirts of town to give a sob story to travelers to get them to buy turkeys. The kid probably sets them on this course to the bridge where these trickster hobos make people think they are like dead or something .... and then they THROW SALT INTO THEIR EYES AND STEAL THEIR WALLETS!

I'm gonna get it out of him. The truth. I'm gonna accuse him of being a cannibal and then under duress he'll admit that he's just a highwayman who robs travelers. 

"I'm on to you Alton Jackerye. The jig is up. I know you and that kid Wes are in cahoots. You lure unsuspecting travelers under this bridge and even though you pretend you can't eat ... I bet you eat plenty, Alton, I bet you don't flinch in front of turkey meat ... because your evil tongue only craves one kind of food, daddy-o ... and that's .... HUMAN FLESH! You're no hobo! You're just a big stinky man-eating whack job!"

"Nope."

"No?"

"No. Lemme ask you.... you ever laugh too much?"

"What?"

"You ever laugh so much you thought you died, man?"

"......"

"You ever laughed so hard that you gasped for air and you clawed at the floor....?"

"...." My temperature is beginnin' to rise.

"Yeah? Well, it's suffice to say that you died that day....."

"......" My foot was starting to really hurt now.

"Yup. You're one of us. You're a hobo like us.... roaming the streets of life as a ghost...."

"................" My foot hurts so much. It feels swollen. Why is that?

"You ever think that, maybe, you ......"

"?????"



Toronto

"Hey wake up, g-unit." A voice said to me.

"I'm awake, guy." I responded.

"Yo that was pretty cool last night!"

"Yeah? What did we do? Last thing I remember I was like giving these turkeys to these hobos and..."

"Hahaha! What!? You have weird dreams, guy."

I looked around, I was in Ol' Kurtis' apartment in Toronto. I guess most of Cornwall was just a dumb dream or something. What was it about? Turkeys? Crabs? Worms? Who knows with dreams. I sat up from the couch I slept on and saw Ol' Kurtis and Connecticut playin' a hockey video game.

"I HATE THE WAY YOU MOVE!" Connecticut said to Ol' Kurtis.

"Haha! You're winning though still! It's 3-2!" Retorted Ol' Kurtis.

"You guys simming the playoffs? Who's gonna win the cup?" I asked them.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuh. The Whalers." said ol' Connecticut.

My foot hurts. I took off my sock and it was BLUE and PURPLE. I remember now ... this overweight fellow fell on it when we were playing touch football the other day. It's okay though. Who cares? I've been walking on it for like three towns now so it can't be that bad.

"What's wrong with your foot, guy?" Ol' Kurtis asked me.

"A 350 pound man fell directly on it with all his weight at some party..." I said.

"Haha. That guy? The one from the next door high school to ours back when we were in high school?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Haha. Remember the time he walked from his high school, the high school right next to ours, to the deli down the street from our high school with his pants down and his big fat ass flopping around in baby-blue underwear?" Kurtis asked.

"Yah guy. Yo, Fleegs told me one time that that-guy got so wasted at some up north party that he chased a llamma around for an hour then passed out......"

"Pffff. Hahahahaha."

I didn't know the other guy playing the video game hockey all that well. Ol' Connecticut. Seemed like a nice enough fellow. He was Cross-eyed and walked with a demonstratably strange gait. Could have been rickets. He was an Ol' cross-eyed ricket-ridden large-set fella is what he was. He began to speak...

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Yeah. Whalers are gonna win in six games. Kurt is Red Wings but he's gonna lose." He told me.

"Cool."

"Uuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmm, you know what my dream is?" He asked me.

"No."

"I'm gonna be a big time hollywood director one day. Wanna hear about my movie?"

"Ok."

"It's about this oil tycoon guy, uuuuuummmmmm, but like his brother doesn't like him." He said.

"Sounds good." I said.

Connecticut put down his hamburger and continued.....

"Yeah, me n' Kurt are about to start making it ... uhhhhh .... you wanna be in it?" He asked me.

"Okay. What's my part?"

"You're the brother and uuuuuuuhhhhhh you hate me because I'm a big oil tycoon and I'm like worse than like even Ebenezer Scrooge and everything. I'm greedy and I'm bad." He said.

"Ok, man. Sounds fun." I said.

Kurtis took out a beat up old 8 millimeter vintage rotary camera and yelled ... "ACTION!"

I wasn't really all that prepared to be in a film that very second but you know how it is. You always sort of have to be ready to be in an ad-hoc movie at any given moment in these highly technological times. Alright, let's get in the zone here, let's get mentally into it, what's my motivation here? I'm a brother to Connecticut... is his name Connecticut in the movie though?

"Yo what's your name in the movie, Connecticut?" I asked.

"Ummmmmmmm. Uhhhhhhh. Oh. My name is Sweet C the oil man. Uuuuuh, and you're Morgan."

"Ya. ok, cool."

He began his lines. He wrote the movie and knew his lines but I guess he just assumed I would know the lines from like divining them outta the ethers of the cosmos or something. We started the scene...

"Ummmmm. Why do you not like me, bro? Just because I'm like an oil tycoon and have like lots of money and everything?" He said whilst in the character of Sweet C the oil tycoon.

I had no idea what any of the lines were to this screen play. So I just made them up.....

"It's just, Sweet C, I never learned to read and am crippled with blue and purple feet ... and I'm not as smart as you. You're a big big oil guy, you know? You have so many oil fields and I don't have like any." I said on whim.

"Ya but I like you though. Uhhhhh, Ummmmm, so why don't you like me? What if I gave you like maybe three or even four of my oil fields? Would you start to like me again, bro?"

"Well, yes, actually I would really like you if just gave me a few rich-guy oil fields of Texas Tea, there Sweet C. That's a very good idea. We could be Oil Brothers together....." I responded.

"Cool. Ok, I'll get my lawyer to write up the contracts Morgan. Just gimme a sec. Okay?"

"Ok."

".....and SCENE," said ol' Kurtis as he put down the camera.

"Wow! That was great! You're a natural!" Connecticut levied praise upon my acting skills.

"Thanks dude. You're amazing too...." I said.

Me, Kurtis, n' Connecticut all high fived. It was wicked and it was good. We were all having a huge blast. Movies really bring out the inner soul of us all don't they? I really hoped Connecticut could achieve his dream of being a big time hollywood director one day. I knew the odds were stacked against him but who knows? The guy has natural artistic abilities, no doubt about it. I hope one day I'll wake up and turn on the Oscars and Connecticut would be there winning the best actor Oscar for Sweet C The Oil Man. That would really be something.

"You think you could get this made and win the Oscar with it Connecticut?" I asked the ricket-hobbled bow-legged cross-eyed actor/director.

"Ya. Uhhhhhh. I just gotta focus right now and learn some more film stuff but come like in five years from now I'm gonna have a BMW and Oscars for sure." He told me.

"I hear ya, Connecticut. I hear ya loud and clear. How does your movie end?"

"That scene was the ending scene. I give my brother Morgan like two or three oil fields and then he likes me. It's a happy ending."

"Oh. What a deeply touching and heart warming film. How could it not get an Oscar?" I openly pondered to anyone who listened.

"Yeah, it's gonna rake the gold up," said Kurtis from behind the kitchen counter.

"What's the name of it?" I asked Connecticut.

"Oil Brothers," he told me.

"Ya. It's called Oil Brothers," said Kurtis.

Oil Brothers, eh? I was honored to be Morgan in Oil Brothers to tell you truth. Man, the next time I'd see Connecticut again in real life was in Pittsburgh and wouldn't ya know ... by then he had a BMW and two Oscars ... but back in those times in Toronto though ... he wasn't a big humongous celebrity yet .... he was just our friend.

I think I'm done in Ontario, gang. It's time to get on my flat feet and huff and shuffle on out of here to the next dopey Province. What's after Ontario? Winnipeg? What's it called? Manitoba? Oh jeeez, that's gonna be a boring one.... or is it?

....Vaya Con Dios, El Connecticut, compadre.