Urge to donate all of my clothes/belongings to charity so I don’t go to hell and when I get to the charity to donate my stuff the charity director will say, ‘wow, that’s a lot of stuff you got. Thanks a lot!’ and I will say, ‘it’s not a problem,’ as I wheel all my shit over to him. As I wheel my shit over an illegal immigrant who is driving a taxi will hit me and he won’t stop. The charity director will come running over to me and go, ‘holy shit, man, are you okay?’ and I will say, ‘you can have these clothes, too. Just pour some beer over my broken leg so I can go on with my day.’ And he will pour some beer on my leg and I will end the conversation with, ‘ahh, that will do it. Now play my song.’ And he will be confused for a second or so but the taxi driver will come back with a banjo and record us singing so he can use it as his voice mail so telemarketers will not call during dinner. Taxi driver will say, ‘hey, you guys wanna go fishing?’ and I will say, ‘ya kow, I kinda got this thing at this place to do. It’s kinda important. It’s got a live studio audience and shit.’ Taxi driver will say, ‘oh, where is it? I’ll drive you there.’ But I will crawl away and I will keep crawling until the charity director comes running down the street and cuts my leg off with a dull butter knife and says, ‘I’m sorry we can’t be friends. But I really want your leg so I can make a bong out of it.’ I will tell him it’s not a problem and that I’ll see him next week.
(c) shawn berman