My long, thin horsey face is full of a lot of things. Crap yes, but other things too. It is the home to two dull brown/hazel eyes that are good for seeing right past you into a vast wasteland. They also show you that I am not at all interested in looking at you. They have the automatic eye roll on lock every time you say something. They see you coming from a mile away and alert me to walk somewhere else, or to pretend to be on a call, or a busy project. These eyes outsmart you in every way.
My nose could sniff out your bad excuses or your bull crap line in a field of carnations. You are sick today? No,you are not. You were just so tired of having to take on my work for a week and you realized just how much I do everyday and how little you do. You’re horrified that someone will find out how little you do everyday, so you fake sick once every two weeks, just so you can get behind a little and “seem” busy. My slackiest day is busier than your worst nightmare day. Just keep trying to pretend like you matter.
These earholes? They are busy ringing from the music I had to play too loud so I could forget just a few of the constant stream of words you never stop using. You spew all kinds of “knowledge” you “claim” you got from a text book in college, but really you just read in the National Enquirer or TMZ. Remember when the rabbit said, “If you can’t say something nice to say, don’t say nothing at all?” What he really meant was for you to “just not say anything at all.” Because out of all 150,000 words you said today all zero of them were important. You could have read from the Scholastic Spelling Bee’s dictionary of important words and all of those words coming out your mouth sound like “duh” “uhh” “bae” and “deez” to me.
My mouth? It is meant for eating. Pizza, nachos, Skittles, tacos, bagels and cheese, Bizzards, and Triple Cheeseburgers, but mostly you for breakfast. It doesn’t say words for the sake of speaking. That is what the keyboard is for. It reserves this dull monotone voice for business purposes only. The business of taking you to school, dropping you off in your kindergarten class and making you go Billy Madison, just so you can keep up. You could get a doctorate in wit and sarcasm and you would still be in mile 1 of the marathon, when I’m on mile 26. Your head is going to have be reattached, because it is spinning so bad. This mouth does not speak the words of small talk. Stuff like “Hey, how is your day going?” or “Did you know that….” don’t come out in that order from this guy. I don’t ask questions unless I care about the answer. Which I why I don’t ask you any questions.
This skull? Contains the brain that isn’t Google. It isn’t even the brain of Wikipedia. It doesn’t know useless things like math, or Trivial Pursuit answers. It doesn’t care about the weather in Witchita, or the football fantasy score of HomerBlade436, or the side effects of Praxil for your moderate to severe monotosis. It doesn’t care about where the comma goes in Youre or what the sixth fork does in a formal dining situation. It doesn’t care about enthusiasm, teamwork or cooperation. It is laser focused on food, couch, video game, bitterness, and Community (not the community around me, but Community the show, which focuses not on worldly issues, but the issues of seven selfish people, like me).
And yeah, my brain signals my fingers to type this tripe. So if you want someone to complain to, don’t get mad at my fingers for writing this worthlessness, get mad at my skull for letting my bitter brain escape and bully my fingers. My brain is the one that let Id have a chance, while Ego and SuperEgo take the night off so they can watch some TV. Probably Community.
Bitter Ben Face