BTW, I'm falling back into a Doors phase, which is sort of embarrassing because a 30-year-old man should not be going back into a music phase that he had in college. Ah well, maybe the next entry will be about the rationalization of that.
I got an interesting email the other day
Dear Douche Bag,
I know my last entry sucked sea cucumbers, but give me another shot, I really have something on my mind this time. It's a good story that's both poigniant and true. I want to let all the people know.
Yours in Christ,
How can I turn down a sweet letter like that? Here's Aquaman with one last chance to make you laugh. If he sucks, I'm cutting bait.
Ha, ha, fucknob. I get it, cut bait ... fish ... Aquaman, you're a real laugh a minute. Where did you move? Brooklyn? Real interesting entry last time about the trials of moving. Wah, I had to lift a box of books. You're no SuperFriend, you're a SuperPuss.
Anyway, I'm not here to make fun of you, I'm here to tell you why I don't stick around after I mop up the floor with criminals. I know most of you out there in the real world think that it's pretty cool to be a super hero. You get to live a life of adventure, meet interesting people (like the cast of Flipper) and you get 15% off all oil changes at Jiffy Lube.
There is a dark side though, and it's not bad guys. It's freaking ingrates. Take this tale for example. Since I've blogged, people know where they can reach me. Last month I got an email from a guy named Dino. Check this crap out:
Do you remember me? I bet you don't, so let me refresh your memory. I was about two miles away from shore on a beautiful August afternoon fishing with a couple of my friends on my new boat. Absoultely perfect day. The boat wasn't huge, but it sleeps three comfortably ... or at least it did.
You destroyed it, you son of a bitch and I want my money for a new boat. My friends and I had to swim back to shore, and one of them drowned. You better get back in touch with me at: firstname.lastname@example.org or I'm sending lawyers to Atlantis.
You know what I did with this letter? That's right, the cynlandrical file, the old waste basket. Screw Dino. So maybe I did ruin his piece of crap boat, but I had just cause. Me and the boys were drinking fuzzy navels all day and decided that we wanted to go surfing. Unfortunately, I didn't bring my board and none of the fish want to hang out with old AM when he drinks, so I couldn't surf on their backs. Screw them, they suck, let's see where I am when they need ME.
Anyhow, we wanted to surf, so I said, "Let me handle this!" and I punched the first thing that I saw, so I could at least grab a piece of plywood and hang ten. So I punched his boat, because it was made of wood. All of a sudden we hear a bunch of people crying, "Wah! I can't swim!" and "I saved my entire life for this boat!" Wah, wah.
If you can't swim why are you in the ocean, Jackson? Right, you should stay on land with the rest of the nonswimmers. So, me and my friends were trying to stand on top of our makeshift surfboard when we remembered that we don't even know how to surf! I guess you just had to be there, but everyone was laughing their asses off.
Of course, this jerk Dino was there, but he doesn't think it's very funny. Dude, get a sense of humor! I mean really, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SURF! That shit is funny!
So I emailed him back:
You're right, I owe you a new boat, and it will be in your front yard tomorrow.
Yours in Christ,
From the email I got back, Dino was very happy. He wasn't the next morning when I dropped this in his front yard:
Here's the thing, no one tries to scare AM with lawyers. I'm not afraid of that crap, I rule three quarters of the earth, do you think I'm afraid of some pencil pushing attorney? Hells no. But it's funny because again, I was drunk and the boat is a piece of crap, Dino didn't say he wanted a new boat, he just said I owed him a boat. Actually, he did say he wanted a new boat ... but that's what makes this prank funny. Dude, you got PUNK'D! Where's Ashton? Right here!
Again Dino, didn't find it funny and said that a lawyer in scuba gear will be down to the palace with a lawyer papers (he actually said what they're coming down with, but I think he's trying to punk AM). So, I'll be waiting for him ... with a school of barracuda. Get it? A school of barracuda for a barracuda! (That's what they call lawyers some time! I should really have my own show.)
I'll let you all know how this turns out ... if GrandMaster Jackass (Byron) allows me to. Peace. Out.