I had a revelation
of utmost magnificance tonight.
It was some kind of out-of-body
trandescending experience.
I came out of the kitchen
and found myself seated on the couch.
Watching Stargate through my crooked
glasses, with a cigarette and a
heedlessly sadistic look on my face.
(Just what in the fuck am I doing?)
The front door was unlocked
anyone could have waltzed in
to find me here,
like this.
I took a seat next to myself
and finished off the episode.
But not before a soup line
of the sad cold world
begging for its last chance
presided before us.
Commercials of convoulted pyrimad scams,
furnature,
insurance, insurance fraud,
motels, vacation opportunities,
check cashing and bankruptcy.
The show came back on and
A B-actor, who was a main charactor mind you,
took a leap of faith
out of the comforts of the starship
and into the boundless galaxy.
He put his career on the line
to save the planet.
Or he put his life at risk,
to get off the worst television
program that I'd ever seen.
Was it a courageous act of heroism?
Or a negligent resort to end
the total fucking embarassment?
I didn't know exactly, I didn't
watch the whole show.
But looking at myself, I could
tell he was fully intrigued.
Myself that is.
Did I ever tell you how much I hated television?
-MBE |
Submission Name: Writers Never Get Pussy
