Stupid frikkin chicken.
If you think about it, it is pretty amazing how close to death we are most of the time. Crossing roads, driving cars, taking elevators to work etc etc.
I wonder if Death gets real frustrated at us. Thinks, “look at those fuckers, they should all be dead by now.” I think Death was one of my favourite Pratchet characters. Cause in my head, I could almost always make him have a deep, dark voice and drone on in an Australian accent (don’t ask).
It is not every day that you realise that you are meant for greater things, that you were sent to this planet for a purpose, for a very specific task.
It is not every day that you wake up and look in the mirror and see a hero.
It is not every day that you look outside your house and see millions and millions of people begging and pleading; they need your help, they need a saviour.
It is not every day that you walk around and suddenly realise that you can fly, actually fly.
But then it is not everyday that you down a bottle of tequilla for a fifty buck bet.
I knew that was coming.
The sad part about telling yourself a joke is that there are times when you don’t find it funny. And then you are like, who the fuck do I complain to about this? Imagine being your own audience. Even if you are clapping out of pity, YOU know that the performance actually sucked.
No, I would not want to be my own audience. I would probably pelt myself with a couple of stones. Actually, the stones would never make it to the stage since I would be in the cheap seats at the back AND lack the physical strength to throw something that far. I would definitely boo myself though.
I wonder if people who are named “boo” feel bad when people boo. Or whether they are all happy and shit (All ’em people are saying ma name!).
That would be a shit name for a singer though. “Alright guys, say my name, whats ma name?”