What is Love?

What is love? Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. No more.

To me, that is the single most profound quote in the history of our universe. It was uttered by none other than the Trinidadian singer Alexander Nestor Haddaway, better known by his stage name “Haddaway,” in his worldwide 1993 hit, ‘What is Love?’

What is love? Hollywood tries to force it down our throats in practically every movie. They try to tell us what it is. I can probably gather a million quotes from films that start with the sentence “love is…” or “I love you because…” Well, let me tell you something… it’s alllllll bullshit.

And I’m not even a disbeliever. I’m not saying that true love doesn’t exist. It just doesn’t exist in the way that people think it does. It’s so hard to find because for every good person there is out there, there are ten other shitty ones that are just waiting to stab you in the back. That’s why it is very easy to be skeptical.

Life is not a romantic comedy, no matter how many of them you see. We don’t all end up marrying Drew Barrymore or Jennifer Aniston, believe it or not. For most people, love is a figment of our imaginations. We want it to exist, and we pretend we love… but, sometimes it’s more coexisting than it is love.

I’m genuinely confused as to what it is. Does love have to be returned for it to be considered love? If you tell someone you love them, yet they don’t love you back… then what is that? Does love have to go both ways? I love the Mets, but they don’t give a shit about me. In fact, I’m convinced they hate their fans. Why else would they make us endure everything that we’ve gone through?

To get to the bottom of this, I decided to interview the authority on love. Who better to ask about the meaning of love… then Cupid, himself?


Me: Hey, Cupid. Is it alright if I call you Cupid?

Cupid: Actually, I’d prefer Dr. Cupid.

Me: Nah, I’m not going to call you that.

Cupid: Okay.

Me: Alright, Cupid, I want you to explain to me once and for all… what is love?

Cupid: it’s the greatest thing ever. It’s when you meet that person, and you just know, you just know that they are the one. Know that they’re the one you want to spend every minute of your life with. They’re the first person you think about when you wake up in the morning, and the last person you think about before you go to bed at night. Upon meeting them, you realize that every moment in your life before that was meaningless, and that now that you’ve found this person, you feel like richest person in the world… even if you don’t have a cent to your name. They’re your best friend… and also your lover.

Me: And you really believe all that?

Cupid: Oh yes. Very much so.

Me: Sounds wayyy too sappy.

Cupid: Love is not sappy. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world! True love is rare, but when it happens, there’s nothing better!

Me: What about winning a million dollars?

Cupid: Money is very superficial. You can buy material possessions, but you can’t by happiness… and certainly not love!

Me: I can buy love if I want.

Cupid: No, you can’t. It’s not possible.

Me: I can.

Cupid: No, I said you can’t! You simply can’t! It’s an abstract thing!

Me: Alright, relax Cupid… I was just fucking with you. I know I can’t buy love.

Cupid: Very funny.

Me: Alright, I see what you’re saying, I guess. But if true love exists, why do so many marriages end in divorce?

Cupid: I get that question a lot. It’s simply because people think they have found love… when they truly haven’t yet. Love can be temporary sometimes. That’s why it’s not true love.

Me: So, let me get this straight. There’s temporary love, then there’s true love?

Cupid: Also normal love.

Me: What’s that?

Cupid: People that stay married despite never experiencing true love.

Me: Okay, now that’s bullshit. There’s either love, or there isn’t love. Not three kinds of love.

Cupid: The point, you can’t rush love. It’s like the movie “Fools Rush In” with Matthew Perry and Selma Hayek. I’ve never actually seen it, but I feel like it would apply here,

Me: You’re really not doing a good job selling me on love.

Cupid: I don’t have to. You’ll just know that love exists when you feel it.

Me: And what if I don’t feel it?

Cupid: You will!

Me: Buuuuut what if I don’t?

Cupid: Impossible. Everybody experiences love at some point!

Me: Have you?

Cupid: Well, that’s not an option for me because I –

Me: Wait a goddamn minute. You’re supposed to be the God of Love, yet you’ve never actually experienced love? Come to think of it… I’ve never even seen you with a girl before? You’re always alone!

Cupid: Well, it’s my job to ensure-

Me: Cut that crap. Have you ever been in love?

Cupid: I… I –

Me: Answer!

Cupid! Alright! Alright, I haven’t! Okay! I’m a goddamn flying baby! I wear diapers for Christ sake! Who would ever love me?!?! I’m hideous!

Me: So you’ve never been in love, yet you try to make others believe it. That’s pretty freaking hypocritical if you ask me.

Cupid: *starts to cry* I know! I’m a fraud!

Me: Cupid, I want you to be honest here. Does. Love. Exist?

Cupid: I… I don’t know.

Me: Does love exist?

Cupid: it could…

Me: one more time, Cupid. Does love exist?

Cupid: *breaks down completely* No! Alright, you happy now? There’s no such thing! It’s made-up… a fairy tale! Invented by the Gods so that people could actually be happy. They think they’re in love… but it isn’t real. It’s impossible to be infatuated with just one person; eventually we will all betray one another! It’s an endless cycle of deceit!

Me: And there you have it everyone. Cupid, the god of love himself, admitting that there is no such thing as love.

Cupid: You’re evil! What do you want me to say next, that Santa isn’t real?

Me: What? Santa isn’t real?!?!

Cupid: You believe in Santa but not love? What is wrong with you?

Me: You just ruined Christmas for me you bastard! *strangles Cupid, he tries to fight back but I pin him down to the ground* Say mercy! Say it! Say it!

Cupid: Mercy! Mercy!

Me:  *lets go of Cupid* No wonder girls don’t like you, Cupid. You need to hit the gym, man.

Cupid: I used to have a six-pack, but once I realized that I’m going to die alone I just started eating too much chocolate.

Me: I hear ya, bro. So what are your arrows for then? If love isn’t real, what do they do?

Cupid: Kill people.

Me: Oh.

The State of the Union.

Barrack Obama stands at the podium.

Obama: America, it is that time of the year for me to address the Union. I know that our country is in turmoil, and that the economy is at an all-time low, but I am working endlessly day and night to fix it. Now, I have a five-step plan as to how we could make our country strong once again. I ask you to bare with me as I explain, and by the end, hopefully you will see the light at the end of the tunnel like I do. So, here we go:

1)      Add an extra judge to American Idol. Sure… Simon, Paula and Randy are doing the best that they can. I know that. But with a permanent fourth judge, there will be more stability. That way, in the earlier stages it does not have to be a unanimous vote to get to Hollywood. You would just need three of the four judges to say yes. Preferably, the fourth judge would be black. American Idol is the most watched show in our country, so it must reflect our country. My boy Randy can’t hold it down himself. I think two black judges and two white judges would really represent the equality that exists in our nation. Especially with a homosexual hosting the show in Ryan Seacrest. We’ll take it one year at a time, then we’ll throw an Asian in somewhere.

Some Random Senator: You lie!

Obama: I’m sorry?

Senator: First of all, Paula isn’t there anymore.

Obama: Oh really? Then who is?

Senator: Kara DioGuardi. Also, there already is a fourth judge. Ellen DeGeneres fills that role once the show goes to Hollywood.

Obama: Ellen DeGeneres? Is that the girl from Juno?

Senator: No, that’s Ellen Page.

Obama: Oh, the one from Grey’s Anatomy?

Senator: That’s Ellen Pompeo.

Obama: the deaf, blind and mute writer?

Senator: That’s Helen Keller.

Obama: the first black president?

Senator: That’s you.

Obama: Oh yeah.

Senator: Ellen DeGeneres has her own morning talk show called “Ellen”…

Obama: Doesn’t ring a bell…

Senator: *sigh* … she was voice of Dory from Finding Nemo.

Obama: Oh, her! She’s wonderful! Oh, and that means there’s another gay on the panel! That’s great. Alright, moving on to my next point…

2)      Taco Bell will start delivering. Yes, you heard me right. I have spent a good majority of your tax dollars researching this. America loves Taco Bell, there is no doubt about that. But when do people usually go there? That’s right, 2:00 AM, when they’re shitfaced. In result, people are using their cars in their inebriated states and driving under the influence. If Taco Bell were to start delivering, then I guarantee drunk driving will decrease and many American lives will be saved. Also, when I toke up in the oval office, I’m in no mood to drive to Taco Bell. This will make it a lot easier.

Senator: So wait, you’ve actually spent American tax dollars on this?

Obama: Correct.

Senator: How is that even possible? Food there costs like 99 cents!

Obama: I eat a lot when I am high. Alright, next point.

3)      From now on, I am renaming the USA. It will henceforth be known as “Pandora.” I recently saw Avatar in Imax, and I was inspired. The way the blue people ran their civilization, the way they helped each other and cared for their country… that’s how I want us to be. Also, everybody must paint themselves blue and talk in the language of the N’avi.

Senator: You’re joking, right? You don’t have the authority to rename the country! Also, that’s a made up language! It doesn’t exist!

Obama: Sulu Hobgur Ja Liser Obuna Kra Le

Senator: … what?

Obama: I was speaking N’avi. I just gave an order.

Senator: For what?

Obama: For you to sit down and shut the fuck up.

*Senator sits down*

Obama: Where was I? Right, point #4.

4)      I am adding a new political advisor to my staff. Joe Biden has done a very good job, but I think we need somebody who is more up to date with our contemporary needs. Somebody who really has a good grasp on how our society functions. I introduce to you all my new right-hand man… “The Situation” from Jersey Shore.

*The Situation walks out and gives Obama a hand-pound*

Situation: Hey after you’re done with this speech, whaddya say we GTL?

Obama: What does that mean?

Situation: GTL… gym, tan laundry.

Obama: *laughs* Oh, right. Sounds good, Mr. Situation. Except for me, it’s just GL. I don’t need really need to tan… you know, because I’m black.

Senator: You can’t be serious! Him… making decisions for our country!

Obama: Take care of this, Situation.

*The Situation runs off the stage and beats up the Senator*

Obama: That’s why I hired you. Finally, let me get to my last point.

5)      I have saved my best point for last. I am replacing our National Anthem. No disrespect to Francis Scott Key, but the song is a bit outdated. It doesn’t catch people’s attention, and thus doesn’t really mean anything anymore. From now on, our new nation’s anthem will be the song “Tik Tok” by Kesha.

*outcry from the audience*

Obama: I know, I know… the song annoyed me at first too. However, it really grew on me, and I think it’ll grow on you too. And as a special treat, here to present our new national anthem is Kesha herself!

*Kesha walks out and begins to sing*

Obama: I’m sorry Kesha, I don’t mean to interrupt… but I don’t see anybody standing. If you don’t stand for your own country’s national anthem, I’m going to assume you are all either terrorists or communists. And you all know what the punishment for that is *slashes thumb across neck*

*Everyone immediately stands as Kesha sings the rest of the song*

Obama: Brings my tears to my eyes every time. Truly inspiring, Kesha. Truly inspiring. And that will bring this year’s State of the Union address to a close. I think if you all take the time to analyze the decisions I have just made, you will find that they will strongly benefit our country in the long run. Normally, I would take questions, but I’m afraid I cannot today. I have a Taco Bell delivery coming to my office in about five minutes. I do not want to miss it. Instead, The Situation will entertain you all by standing here and flexing while you all disperse. Good day to you all, and God Bless Pandora!

I am Slowly Becoming a Big Deal

So this blog is slowly becoming more and famous. It’s only been about a month and a half, but already random people are stopping me on the street and telling me to keep up the good work. I can’t go anywhere without having to sign an autograph, and mothers keep asking me if I could kiss their babies. Trust me, it’s lot less weirder than when I use to kiss people’s babies BEFORE I started the blog.

Soon enough, my blog will be the go-to source for news and entertainment. Google, Yahoo, and TMZ will be irrelevant. By the way, does anybody actually know what heck TMZ stands for?! I’ve been wondering that for a long time. I also wonder how a trampoline works.

Just remember that you, my loyal followers, are the ones that started it all. Without you all I would not have had the will to keep going. In light of my tremendous success, I encourage everybody to go for their dreams, regardless of silly they may seem. If you want to be a tap-dancer, go for it! If you want to be a air conditioner salesmen, do it! If you want to be a bullfighter, well actually that you should probably not do. Kinda dumb.

And you all don’t need to worry, when I’m famous and a big deal, and I mean even more of a big deal than I am now, I will still remember you all. I will not let the fame get to my head. I won’t go clubbing every night and make it rain at strip clubs. I mean, I do that stuff already. Except right now I can only afford to make it rain nickels. It hurts a little bit too, actually, when all the nickels come back down on your head. Or when they hit somebody else in the head. They don’t like that.

Rumor has it that they’re looking to make a movie about the history of the Weinblog. Supposedly I am going to be played by Macauley Culkin. Interesting casting choice, but I thought he did a great job in Home Alone, so I will not complain.

I figure I’ll give it another few weeks, then I’ll be able to quit my day-job… which is pretty much non-existent anyway, so that doesn’t really change anything.

To sum up, the Weinblog has been a huge success, and it’s only going to get bigger. It will be the biggest thing since Justin Bieber. I will rule the internet, and then I will be the king of the world. Then I will come down from my acid trip and realize that this blog appeals to maybe like ten people.

But I still love it!


After a brief hiatus, I have returned. No, I did not throw myself off a cliff after the Jets loss, so need not worry; I am alive. Though devastated, I am still extremely proud to be a Jets fan. It was an extremely successful season, one that exceeded even the most optimistic of expectations, and a season that the team could build off for the future.

Though the Jets are eliminated, football still resumes. The superbowl is two weeks away, and the Saints and Colts will take each other on in the “two cities that have nothing else to be happy about except their football teams” bowl, I will be rooting for the Colts. Yes, I am aware that they just defeated the Jets, and I’m aware that Peyton Manning is, how do I say this, a little bitch… but, nonetheless,I have decided to support them. Why, you ask?  Because I win 120 bucks if they do. So… yeah.

Trust me, nothing bothers me more than seeing Eli Manning, who [insanely] makes more money than his older brother, sit in the press box and cheer on the Colts, as if he has something to do with their success. And watching him root against the Jets, of all teams, was funny… because he is rooting against his own city. Fuck him.

Alright, let’s get to business. A few weeks, ago, a story came out on CNN.com that fans of ‘Avatar’ were experiencing severe depression after the movie, even going as far as threatening to commit suicide in internet message boards. I also referenced it on my blog last week. This was because they were so captivated by the world that James Cameron created, that in comparison, they hated reality. Now, these people were clearly  a bit mentally unbalanced going into the theater if they allowed a movie to affect them that much. Get a grip on yourselves, it’s a wonderful film, but… probably not worth killing yourself over.

After reading that article, I was amazed. I’m a pretty big hardcore Avatar fan myself, I was enthralled with the movie, but never even for a split second became saddened by it. This is probably because I am mentally strong and have a very good grip on reality.

[pauses writing momentarily to stare at one of his many Lord of the Rings posters, then practices a spell with his magic wand and says hello to his imaginary unicorn]

…where was I? Oh right, killing yourself. So yes,  I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that a movie could make people want to kill themselves. Well, that all changed when I saw the trailer for this movie:



I just… just don’t understand. What person, with a brain, approves of these movies? Who decided that this is worth spending tons and tons of money on to create a feature film? I just… don’t know. Somebody please explain.

How in the world does Duane “The Rock” Johnson go from this:

To this:


If you’re ever going to kill yourself because of a movie, I completely understand if it is because of this one. When movies like this get made, you know that we can no longer have faith in humanity. There’s just no way.

And the worst part about all of this is not the fact that the movie was actually made, but that it made $14.3 million this weekend. Are you kidding me?!?!?!?! $14.3 million! How could you spend money on this? To all the idiots that actually chose to see this movie in theaters: Think about all of the other ways you could have spent your 12 bucks. You could have donated to Haiti. If all of you decided to donate to Haiti rather than seeing this movie, that’s 14.3 million extra dollars that they could have had to save lives. However, instead of deciding to save lives, you decided to put your money in the wallets of people that are  single-handedly ruining this country. Your confirming their belief that movies like this are successes.

You disgust me.

My idea for punishment? Gather everyone that has paid money to see the Tooth Fairy, and forcefully remove their teeth. Then, make them sleep that night with all their teeth under their pillow. When the actual tooth fairy comes in the middle of the night to collect their teeth, have him beat them all up in their sleep. Then the Rock walks in and gives them a People’s Elbow. And while this is happening, it’s being filmed so all of the people in Haiti can watch. That way the punishment fits the crime.

What a world, folks, what a world.


The “Nice Guy” Support Group.

What does it mean to be… “nice?” You hear that term thrown around a lot. I like to do the right things to people, to treat others with respect, whether I get it back or not. I don’t like being mean to people and it gives me no satisfaction. However, I hate being told that I am a nice person.

Nice people can be summed up in one word: “suckers.” We may be nice to others, and you expect that if you always do the right thing and treat people well, that good things should come your way. However, that’s just not reality. The sooner you accept that, the better.

The worst is when you’re told that you are a “nice guy.” There’s nothing worse. Nice guys live in fear of those eight devastating words: “I think you’re a really nice guy, but…”

Is that supposed to be a consolation? “Oh, I’m getting told some really bad news right now… but hey, I’m nice!” Meanwhile, as I’m being told this, some asshole probably just won $400,000 dollars in a slot machine in Vegas. I wonder if the slot machine told him “Hey, you’re an asshole… but here’s a shitload of money!” And if it did, I’m sure those words would scar them ever so deeply…

It is not beneficial to be a “nice guy.” Thus, I am starting the first ever “Nice Guy Support Group.” There IS such a thing as too nice. It’s a disease. Just like alcoholism, drug addiction, or sex addiction. You could be addicted to being nice, and it’ll have dire consequences.

The first step… is realizing that you have a problem. So I urge you, loyal blog followers, that if you know somebody that is way too nice, that helps you out way too much, that always does the right thing regardless of how selfless the act is… please hold an intervention. Gather their friends, their family, their ex-girlfriends that broke up with them despite the fact that they are a “nice guy” … and check them into rehab. Do it while there is still time.


I expect the first meeting to go something like this:

Moderator: So who would like to begin? … How about you?

Tom: Hi… I’m Tom… and I’m a…. I’m a… nice guy.

*everyone shakes their head in disgust*

Moderator: So, what nice act have you done lately?

Tom: Last week,  I… I bought a necklace for my girlfriend on the third date…

Doug: Oh, that’s beautiful.

Moderator: No. It’s not beautiful… it’s disgusting. What the fuck were you thinking? Do you like this girl?

Tom: I love her.

Moderator: So this is what you do. You never call her.

Tom: N-never? But that’s not nice.

Moderator: Exactly.

Tom: But that will hurt her feelings!

Moderator: who gives a fuck? Then you find a new girl!

Tom:  And what if she tries to get in touch with me?

Moderator: You ignore it. At all costs. Then, after a month, you call her and tell her you’ve been busy, but get her to come out with you. Take her to a bar, and then hook up with another chick right on front of her.

Tom: But… that’s… that’s awful! Girls are beautiful creatures and deserve to be respected!

Moderator: *Gets up and slaps Tom in the face* You sicken me. Why do you think you’re here? It’s because you NEED help. Listen to me, if you dig this chick, and you take my advice… she’ll be all over you. Chicks dig assholes. It’s science.

Tom: Okay. Okay. I can do that. *phone rings* Oh no, she’s calling me right now! Should I answer??

Moderator: It’s probably too late anyway. You said you already gave her the necklace?

Tom: Yes.

Moderator: And I’m guessing you have used the word “honey bun” at least twelve times already?

Tom: How did you know that?

Moderator: *laughs* Pick it up. This will be a good lesson to everyone.

Tom: *answers phone* Hello honeyb- … I mean… sweat pea. *listens* We need to talk?… about what? Are… are you sure? I thought things had been going so well! But… but… oh. I see… Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. I still hope we can remain friends because – hello? You there? *closes phone* must have lost signal.

Moderator: You see, people? THAT is what happens when you are “too nice.” You’re only asking to get fucked.

*Tom begins to cry*

Moderator: Oh, man up you pussy.

*Doug stands up to console him*

Moderator: Sit the fuck down right now!

*Doug sits*

Moderator: Is anyone here married? *no one responds* Figures. How many of you have girlfriends?

*everyone except Tom raises hand*

Moderator: Not surprising… girls like to experiment with nice guys all the time. Since girls are naturally evil, they think dating a nice guy will transform them. It never works. Alright, of all of you, how many HAVEN’T bought a gift for your girlfriend in the past week?

*everyone’s hands go down*

Moderator: You fuckin’ saps. You’ll all be single by the end of the week. And I will probably have sex with half of them. Alright, you. What’s your name?

Larry: Larry.

Moderator: Larry, see that guy next to you?

Larry: Yea…

Moderator: Punch him in the face.

Larry: Excuse me?

Moderator: I said punch him in the goddamn face.

Larry:  I would never do such a thing!

Moderator: Do you want to die alone?

Larry: Of course not.

Moderator: Then punch that mothafucka right in the jaw. Right now.

Larry: *lifts first towards man next to him, holds it mid-air, then starts shaking. Finally he puts it down.* I just can’t do it!

Moderator: *stands up, goes across the room, and punches Larry in the face. Larry falls to the ground and lies motionless* This is a lesson for all of you. If you do not punch other people, then you WILL get punched. How many people here have ever thrown a punch in their life?

*Half the people raise their hand*

Moderator: At a person.

*All hands go down*

Moderator: Pathetic. Do you guys watch Jersey Shore?

Everyone: Oh yeah, very enjoyable program.

Moderator: Do you see The Situation? Do you see Ronnie? Do they look like nice guys to you? Do you think they write love poetry and call their girlfriends at 10:00 at night making sure they’re okay? No. They don’t. They’re assholes. They spend half their time at the gym, and the other half treating girls like shit. Like they’re objects. And look at them! THEY HAVE THEIR OWN GODDAMN TELEVISION SHOW! If that’s not verification enough for you as to who are the people that make it in this world… then I don’t know what is.

Random Nice Guy: he’s got a point. I mean, look at this Tonight Show situation. Conan…. Nice guy. Jay Leno… douchebag. Yet, who’s the one with the show?

Moderator: Exactly. Now you fuckers are catching on. This planet is no place for nice guys. In fact, our society is designed so that douchebags can take advantage of nice guys to further their own place in society. Every day of your life, you are being used. At this very moment, your girlfriends are having sex with some guy that they met at the gym.

Random Nice Guy #2: But eventually… all girls settle for nice guys once they’ve gone through too many assholes, right?

Moderator: Incorrect. They settle for guys with money. How nice you are is irrelevant. And nice guys don’t make a lot of money. So basically, you’re fucked.

Random Nice Guy #2: Damn.

Moderator: It’s a harsh world we live in. Just be thankful you are all discovering this now, before it’s too late.

*Random nice guy punches the guy to his right, knocking him unconscious*

Moderator: There we go!!! What’s your name?

Louis: It’s Louis.

Moderator: And how do you feel, Louis?

Louis: *breathing heavily* I… I feel… amazing! I feel liberated.

Moderator: Are you a nice guy, Louis?

Louis: *whispers* fuck you.

Moderator: Sorry, didn’t catch that.


Moderator: Now that’s what I’m talking about!


Moderator: Okay, settle down there. You’re overdoing it.

Louis *sits down, embarrassed* Sorry.

Moderator: Don’t fucking apologize. You’ll ruin it. You just had a breakthrough. That’s another lesson for all of you… NEVER apologize. For anything. Whatever you do is in the past, saying sorry doesn’t accomplish a thing. How many of you have apologized for something recently?

*Everyone raises their hand*

Moderator: You’re all idiots.

Everybody in unison: Sorry

Moderator *places head in palms* Ugh…. We’ve got a long way to go. But today was good, we made some progress. Your homework assignment… tell a random stranger in the street to fuck off. Oh, and somebody should probably check Larry’s pulse. He’s been unconscious for a while now. Class dismissed!


And there you have it. I will announce the next meeting at a later date.

A Courtroom Drama.

Judge: Greetings everyone. We are gathered here today in the trial of the Lucky Charms Leprechaun versus the State. As you all know, the beloved cereal mascot, Snap, – of Rice Krisipies fame – was murdered during the early morning of December 19th, 2009. After an extensive investigation, the Lucky Charms Leprechaun was formally charged with first degree murder, which warrants a prison sentence of fifty years to life, with the possibility of death. It is up to you, the jury, to determine whether you believe he truly committed this crime or not. Decide carefully, this man’s life is in your hands. Defense, your opening statements?

Defense: Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, as you will hear during this case, my client, the leprechaun we all know and love, is innocent. He is a good-natured fellow, and he would never even hurt a fly. Heck, when he eats his own cereal, he doesn’t even eat the marshmallows because he likes them too much. Does that sound like a murderer to you? The only crime that was committed here today was the conviction of an innocent man, er, leprechaun.

Judge: And the prosecution?

Prosecutor: I’d like to pose a question to the jury. What is your favorite cereal? That’s right, I’m sure the majority of you will say Rice Krispies. It’s delicious, it’s tasty, and most importantly, it’s healthy. Studies have shown that America prefers Rice Krispies. The leprechaun is well aware of this. On the morning of December 19th, 2009, it all became too much for him. He broke into the house of Snap, Crackle, and Pop… and he strangled Snap in his sleep. He snapped Snap. It’s your job to put this menace to society in prison where he belongs. Thank you.

Judge: Defense, your first witness?

Defense: We’d like to call to the stand, Tony the Tiger.

*Tony the Tiger approaches the bench*

Defense: Hey Tony, would you like a glass of water?

Tony: Actually, if you have some milk, I’d prefer that. In fact, that would be grrrrrrrrrrreeeee-

Prosecutor: Objection your honor, whether the milk is great or not is irrelevant.

Judge: Sustained.

Tony: …sorry.

Defense: Tony, how long have you known the Lucky Charms Leprechaun?

Tony: Oh, for ages! In fact, he’s the one that got me my gig as a cereal mascot.

Defense: Sounds like a nice thing to do. So would you say that he’s a good guy?

Tony: Oh, the best! In fact, he’s not only good, he’s greeeeeeeeaaaaa-

Judge: *pounds gavel* Silence! I will not allow you to make a mockery of my courtroom with corny catchphrases! One more outburst like that and you’re outta here!

Defense: Did you talk to the Lucky Charms Leprechaun on the night of January 18th, leading into the 19th?

Tony: Yes, in fact, I saw him that night.

*audience gasps*

Defense: Where?

Tony: I went out to dinner with him. Not only him, but Toucan Sam and Count Chocula. Count Chocula had just gotten engaged, so we were celebrating.

Defense: What time did you get home?

Tony: Around 11:30. That was when Toucan Sam dropped me off. He was our designated driver. He hasn’t drank since he got his DUI back in May. He was going to drop off the Leprechaun after me since he lived the next closest. There’s no possible way he could have made it all the way across town to Snap, Crackle and Pop’s residence in time after that. Plus, he had been drinking and was in no condition to operate a vehicle.

Defense: No further questions, your honor.

Judge: Prosecution, would you like to cross-examine.

Prosecutor: Yes. Tony, what are you?

Tony: I’m sorry?

Prosecutor: Are you human?

Tony: well no, I’m a tiger.

Prosecutor: So, we just spent the last ten minutes listening to a tiger speak?

Tony: Umm… yes.

Prosecutor: no further questions.

Judge: Tony, you may step down.

Tony: We’re done… that’s grrrrrreeeeaaaaaaaaaat!

Judge: Security, detain him!

Tony: *while being dragged away in handcuffs* I didn’t mean it, it’s just a reaction! I have a son!! I have a son!!!!!!

Judge: Prosecution, your witness.

Prosecution: We’d like to call to the stand, the Lucky Charms Leprechaun.

*audience gasps again*

Prosecutor: Mr. Leprechaun, would you consider yourself a violent man?

Leprechaun: Absolutely not.

Prosecutor: Fair enough. Now, what am I holding here? *lifts up a cereal box*

Leprechaun: Why, that’s a box of Lucky Charms of course! Only the best cereal there is!

*audience laughs*

Prosecutor: *opens up the box and begins eating the cereal* Yeah, it is pretty good. But what, if I started doing this. *begins tilting the cereal box so the cereal is almost falling out*

Leprechaun: W-what are you doing?

Prosecutor: oh, you know… just pouring some cereal.

Leprechaun: but… but… you don’t have a bowl. It’s going to fall to the floor!

Prosecutor: I know *tilts the box even more*

Leprechaun: Please…. Please stop…

Prosecutor: *Tilts it enough so that the cereal starts pouring to the ground*

Leprechaun: *standing up* YOU MOTHERFUCKER!! YOU ARE WASTING SOME PERFECTLY GOOD CEREAL GOD DAMN- *stops when he realizes what he is doing*

*audience gasps in fear*

Prosecutor: *smiles* Not violent, eh? Riiiiight. No further questions, your honor.

*Lucky Charms Leprechaun lowers his head in shame*

Judge:  Defense, you’re up…

Defense:  Mr. Leprechaun, can you confirm Tony’s story?

Leprechaun: Absolutely.

Defense: Alright, and did you know Snap at all?

Leprechaun: not well, but we’ve talked a few times. He seemed like a decent fellow.

Defense: decent enough… to kill?

Leprechaun: No, of course not! I barely even know him, why would I want to kill him?

Defense: Do you enjoy Rice Krispies?

Leprechaun: I… I….

Defense: Remember, you’re under oath…

Leprechaun: Alright! I do! I love Rice Krispies… they’re delicious!!

*audience gasps*

Leprechaun: The way they snap, crackle… AND pop in your mouth… all that the same time! It’s ingenious. Everyone thinks you need to have marshmallows in your cereal for it to be good, but that’s a huge misconception. And Rice Krispies proves that!

Defense: I ask you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, why would my client want to kill the beloved mascot of the cereal he secretly adores?? That is all.

Judge: Defense, do you have any more witnesses?

Defense: one more. The defense would like to call to the stand… Pop!

Man: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

Pop: I do.

Defense: Pop, how long have you known Snap?

Pop: About fifteen years now.

Defense: Would you say you’re… best friends?

Pop:  The very best.

Defense: Tell me, something Pop, who are the Rice Krispies mascots?

Pop: uhhh… me, Snap, and Crackle.

Defense: No. Tell me how everyone else says it. The correct order.

Pop: *lowers eyebrows* Snap, Crackle, and Pop.

Defense: how does that make you feel, being last on the totem pole?

Pop: …. It doesn’t make me feel anything. I don’t care.

Defense: it would certainly bother me.

Prosecutor: Objection your honor, how it makes the defendant feel is not important.

Judge: Sustained.

Defense: Where were you on the night of December 18th?

Pop: I was home. I went to bed early that night. Around 10:00.

Defense: Okay, and Snap was murdered at around 1:23 AM. Where were you then?

Pop: I was asleep.

Defense: And you slept all through the night from 10:00 pm on? Didn’t get up for a glass of water or to use the bathroom?

Pop: Nope. I am a very heavy sleeper.

Defense: That’s funny, because according to Crackle’s testimony… he heard your door open, and subsequently heard footsteps at around 1:15 AM.

Pop: I… I don’t know what he’s referring to.

Defense: When he went to check your room… you weren’t there.

Pop: Actually… now that I recall… I may have gotten up for a few minutes…

Defense: Also, is it not true, that on the evening of December 12th, just one week before Snap’s murder, you told the Keebler Elf at a bar that you were going “Kill that bitch Snap one of these days”

Pop: I… I never said that! I mean I had been drinking that night so I don’t remember… but the Keebler Elf is a liar!

Defense: Admit it! You were jealous of Snap! Jealous that he was getting all the attention! You always wanted to be first. You wanted it to be, Pop, Snap and Crackle, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU? So one night, when it all became too much, you took a pillow and smothered him in his sleep. That way, you’re one step close to having your name first. You wanted him dead, you always have!

Pop: ALRIGHT!!! Alright, I did it!!!

*audience gasps*

Pop: That sonofabitch was an attention grubbing whore! Always going out at night with all the celebrities, getting all the media spotlight! He won mascot of the year three years in a row! I work twice as hard as he ever has! He did nothing…. NOTHING!! This cereal would be nothing without me! I deserve all the attention! I do!!!!

Judge: Enough! Detain him now! *Pounds gavel* Order In the court! In the case of the Lucky Charms Leprechaun versus the state, we hereby find the defendant innocent. Pop will be formally charged with first degree murder, and will be sentenced at a later date. Take him away!

Pop: *while being dragged away* I will prevail! Rice Krispies will be stronger than ever! You have not heard the last of me!! I will forever be known as the lone mascot of Rice Krispies!!! Pop, Pop AND Pop is what they’ll all say! I AM Rice motherfucking Krispies!!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Crackle: I always knew that guy was fucked up.

My Visit To Sesame Street.

Many of you are not aware of this, but I actually made a special guest appearance on Sesame Street back in the day.  Yeah, I know I’m not famous, but me and Elmo actually go way back. We used to be good pals back in the day. We don’t talk much anymore, but we still keep in touch every now and then.

So I called up Elmo, and he said that it wouldn’t be a problem. I got there nice and early, and I was very eager to meet the whole gang. Here’s how it went:


Me: Elmo! Wassup, my brother? How you been?

Elmo: Dude, what did I tell you on the phone?

Me: What?

Elmo: I don’t go by Elmo, anymore.

*Enter Bert and Ernie*

Bert: Oh no, not this again.

Me: Hey! Bert and Ernie! I love you guys!

Ernie: I assume you want an autograph. Everybody wants a god damn autograph. I am not a fucking machine!

Me: Woah, woah, chill man. I wasn’t going to ask you for an autograph. So Elmo, what’s your new name?

Elmo: I go by E-Nizzle.

Me: Ummm… okay…

Bert: That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.

E-Nizzle: You’re just jealous.

Bert: Jealous of what? You’re what, like 30 years old and you still sound like a prepubescent child… does your voice ever change?

E-Nizzle: Hey Unibrow, keep running your mouth, and I’ll take my fist and shove it right up your –

Me: Alright, alright. That’s enough. Elmo – sorry, I mean E-Nizzle. You don’t sound like a prepubescent child. And Bert you… well, I mean, have you actually ever tried using tweezers or something? Because your eyebrows are pretty disgusting.

Ernie: I’ve been telling him for years!

Bert: Oh, shut up. Your name is Ernie. That automatically qualifies you as a child molester.

E-Nizzle: Should have changed it like I did…

Ernie: How dare you! And I told you… that restraining order from the elementary school was only temporary!

Bert: …what restraining order?

Ernie: Umm… nothing…

*awkward silence*

Me: Sooo…. Where’s the rest of the gang? Hey, is that Big Bird?

*Enter Big bird*

Big Bird: It sure is!

E-Nizzle: Hah… “Big” Bird my ass. I saw him in the locker room at the gym last week, and that nickname does not apply…

Big Bird: I had just gotten out of the shower… the hot water wasn’t working!

Me: Oh my… so where’s the cookie monster at?

Bert: I don’t know if you should call him that anymore…

Me: Oh don’t tell me he’s changed his name also… like this idiot.

E-Nizzle: hey!

Bert: No, no, it’s not that. He’s just not really addicted to cookies anymore. He’s found… something else.

Me: Haha really? What is it? Candy? He’s got quite the sweet tooth!

Bert: No…

Me: Hmm… pizza?

Bert. Nope.

Me: Ice cream?

Bert: not quite.

Me: What then?

Bert: Heroin.

Me:. … oh.

Big Bird: Yeah, it’s pretty ugly. He’s in rehab right now, actually.

Me: This place is not quite how I remember it…

*Enter The Count*

Me: The Count! Hey… how many fingers am I holding up?

*no response*

Me: Hey, Count… what’s the matter with you? I said count my freaking fingers!

*I wave my fingers in his face*

E-Nizzle: Yea, there was an accident a few months ago. The Count is blind.

Me: …what?

E-Nizzle: Yeah… uhh… him and Grover got drunk one night and started lighting off fireworks.

Ernie: Not a very good combination.

Me: Ouch, sorry man.

The Count: I’ve lost all will to count.

Me: yeah… I don’t blame you. So what happened to Grover?

Bert: He’s dead.

Me: D-dead?! You’re kidding, right?

Bert. Nope. Dead as a doornail. As dead as any animal that’s ever died.

Me: From the fireworks?!

Bert: Oh, no. He killed himself.

Me: He what?!

Big Bird: Well, not intentionally. It was some kind of sex act. Autoerotic asphyxiation, they call it. One rope was tied around his neck, the other one was around his –

Me: You know, I’d rather not know.

E-Nizzle: Don’t get any ideas, Bird, I don’t even think they make ropes small enough for you.


Muffled voice: Will you keep it down, I’m trying to sleep, here!

Me: *looks over at the garbage can where the voice came from and laughs* I think I know who’s in there! It’s none other then… *lifts up the lid* Mark Wahlberg?! What the hell??

Mark Wahlberg: That’s right, you gotta problem?! You wanna fight? I’ll fight you right here! I’ll fight you, and then your mother. By the way, did you know that I produce Entourage!

Me: *stuffs lid back on garbage to drain him out* Yeah, so I think I might get going soon…

E-Nizzle: So soon?

Me: Yeah… I thought this was still a child-friendly atmosphere…

Ernie: A child?? Where? Where???

Me: Wow.

*Enter Snuffleupagus*

Snuffleupagus: Yo guys, I just brought a girl back. This place is such a babe-magnet. I’m spitting game at the bar, and I just gotta be like “Yo chica, how about I take you down to sesame street?” Works every time!

E-Nizzle: Does she have a friend?

Snuffleupagus: Oh yeah, a bunch of them. Except one of them is not such a looker.

Big Bird: That one is Bert’s!

Bert: Why do I always get the ugly one?! What about The Count, he can’t even see! It doesn’t make a difference to him!

E-Nizzle: Because what he lacks in vision, he compensates for with… you know. I live in the next room over from him, and trust me, when he’s with a women… it sounds like someone’s getting murdered in there!

The Count: That’s because they are getting murdered. I’m a vampire… remember?

E-Nizzle: ….oh yeah. That actually makes a lot of sense. Also explains the blood. And the dead bodies.

Snuffleupagus: Alright, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!!

Bert, Ernie, The Count, Snuffleupagus, Big Bird, and E-Nizzle: *singing in unison as they skip off together* Can you tell me how to get, how to get to sesame street?

Me: Well, that was delightful.


All in all, it was not quite the same Sesame Street as I remembered it when I was a kid, but in the end it was still quite an eventful experience. Hopefully I will be going back again soon, if anybody cares to join.

A Story on MLK Day.

Let me tell you a story from my childhood.  The people, places, and events in this story are all real:


One day, I was home sitting alone on my couch enjoying some television and homemade potato salad. It was quite enjoyable and I was having a fine time by myself. Suddenly, my phone rang. I gave a slight groan because I knew what was coming. Expectantly, it was my boy T-Bone on the other end.

“Yo man,” said T-Bone. “Get dressed. You’re coming out with us.”

“Nah man,” I replied. ‘I’m way too tired.”

I can hear him repeating my response to somebody else in the car. Then I hear a deeper voice than T-Bone speak.

“Fuck that,” said the voice. “Give me the phone.”

“Oh boy,” I say silently to myself.

“Yo Dubs! It’s me, Three Ball Caps. You pussying out on us?” The voice was so loud I had to take the phone away from my ear momentarily.

“Dude, relax. You don’t gotta yell.  And no… I’m not pussying out… I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit. Three dollar pitchers at Uncle Bucks’s Tavern, tonight. We’ll be outside your house in five minutes.”

“I really wish I –“ click.

Sigh. It looked like I was going out.

After getting dressed in a hurry, I proceeded to go out with my three friends. Along with T-Bone and Three Ball caps, my old pal Fishstick was also tagging along. Pitchers were indeed three dollars, just as Three Ball Caps said. I had no reason to not believe him. If anybody’s gonna know about cheap beer specials, it’s Three Ball Caps.

Four eventful hours later that involved several pitchers, some shots, three games of pool, four rejections by three different girls (somehow), and one near-fight, the four of us were quite inebriated when Uncle Buck himself finally asked us to leave so that he could close down the bar.

“Good night… Uncle Fuck!” yelled Fishstick as we were leaving. “Ha ha! You see what I said there?! I called him Uncle Fuck. But his name is really Uncle Buck!”

“Nice one, man!” I laughed, giving him a high five.

We continued walking for several minutes, laughing and joking about a variety of topics. Finally, Three Ball Caps stopped walking.
“Hey guys…”

“What’s up, Caps?”

“Didn’t we drive here?”

“Oh, shit!” I said. “He’s right. We did drive here!”

“So?” questioned Fishstick. “Why does it matter? We can’t drive now, anyway. We’re fuckin’ loaded!”

“Don’t be such a bitch,” said T-Bone. “I’m the best drunk driver there is. You know that.”

T-Bone began reaching into his pockets, searching for his keys.

“Oh, fuck… I my keys… they’re not here!”

“It’s alright, man,” I said. “Don’t panic. I’m sure you left them at Uncle Buck’s. We’ll go home, get some sleep, and then go back tomorrow morning.”

“It’s not that,” he responded. “I left my weed in the car!”

This sentence struck us like a knife to the chest. He might as well of just told us that one of our best friends just died. Several moments of silence followed until Fishstick finally spoke up.

“Oh my God,” he said frantically. “What are we gonna do?! I gotta get my fix, man! I haven’t gone a night without smoking in seven years!” cried T-Bone. “I can’t stop now! This is a disaster!”

“Get a grip on yourself, T-Bone!” I exclaimed, “First of all, is this really a “disaster?” It’s not that big of a deal. You guys can’t just not smoke for one night?’

“What the fuck did you say?” yelled Three Ball Caps.

“Umm… nothing.”

“That’s what I thought. Alright, let’s think here. “T-Bone, you still talk to your dealer, right?”

“Umm… not really,” replied T-Bone.

“What do you mean?”

“I kinda…. uh….. slept with his girlfriend.”

“Ah, fuck man!” yelled Caps. “You don’t fuck around with your dealers, man! Everyone knows that!”

“Have you seen his girlfriend, man?”

“I don’t give a f-“

“Alright, alright,” I chimed in, trying to restore some order. “Let’s just head back to where we parked the car. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

“You know what,” started T-Bone, “I’m kinda tired. I think I’m just gonna go home.”

Nobody expected what happened next. The silence of the night was interrupted by the sound of a cocked gun. I turned my head quickly, fearing what I was about to see. Three Ball caps was pointing a gun straight at T-Bone.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he said.

“C-caps,” I said fearfully, not removing my eyes from the gun. “Where… where did you get a gun from?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “What were you saying T-Bone? Something about you going home?”

“N-nah man,” said T-Bone. “Relax, man. Lower the gun. I was just joking. I’m not leaving…”

Three Ball Caps continued to stare him down. Finally, he lowered the gun.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on.”

He turned around and started walking. We had no choice but to follow. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and we were all scared out of our wits. After twenty minutes of walking in silence, we arrived back at Uncle Buck’s and located T-Bone’s car.

“Let’s search the ground for his keys,” said Three Ball Caps.

So we searched. Not surprisingly, our search was unsuccessful. Finally, after about thirty minutes, I spoke up.

“This is ridiculous,” I said. “Those keys have to be in the bar. We’re not going to find them.”

“Alright then,” said Three Ball Caps. He picked up a large rock.

“Wait!” yelled T-Bone. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’mma smash the window.”

“You fuckin’ kidding me, man?” said T-Bone. “This is my dad’s car, he’ll kill me!”

“Who you more afraid of?” responded Three Ball Caps. “Your dad… or me?”

At these words, T-Bone stared down Three Ball Caps. I was terrified as to what was gonna happen, In fact, if it wasn’t for what happened next, I’m convinced that things would’ve made a turn for the worst. But that’s when a fifth voice spoke up; a voice we had never heard before.

“I think I can solve your problem.”

We all immediately turned. Leaning against the wall of Uncle Buck’s stood a man whose likes had never been seen before in this town. It was a colored man.

“Who the fuck are you?” said Fishstick. I could sense the fear in his voice.

“I’m nobody,” said the man. “But I could help you.”

“We don’t need any help,” said T-Bone. “Especially not from… you.”

The man simply laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He started walking closer to us. “Let me make you a deal…”

“Get the fuck back!” yelled Three Ball Caps. For the second time that night, he reached into his back pocket for something.

“There’s no need to whip out a gun,” the man said, his voice still eerily calm. “I mean no harm. Like I said, I can help you. I heard about your predicament, and I think we could help each other out.”

A few moments of silence passed. Despite the fact that this man was a complete stranger, I couldn’t help but feel that we could trust him.

“I think we should hear him out, guys,” I said.

The man smiled at me. “Smart one.”

My three friends didn’t respond. Their eyes remained fixed on the mysterious man, and their faces contained looks of deep disgust.

“So what do you want?” I asked.

“All I want,” he started, “Is to smoke with you.”

“Alright genius,” said Fishstick. “If you know our “predicament” so well, you’ll know that our stash is in the car, and we ain’t got the keys!”

“Right,” replied the man. “What if I could say that I could get into the car… without damaging it.”

“I’d say you’re a fucking liar,” said T-Bone.

“Well then, give me a chance.” The man said. “I get into the car, you let me smoke with you guys.”

The four of us looked at each other. We were desperate. I could tell that Three Ball Caps didn’t want to trust him. But he also loves his weed. And that man wanted to get high.

“You have five minutes,” said Caps.

The man smiled. He walked over to the car and examined it.  Then he reached into his pocket. At this, Three Ball Caps whipped out his gun and pointed it at him.

“Chill man,” said the man. “It’s only a piece of wire. “It’s a very useful thing to carry around. You’ll see.”

He went to work. After a couple minutes, sweat began to trickle down his forehead. However, as he worked at picking the lock on the driver’s side door, we finally heard a click.

“It’s like magic,” said the man. Then he opened the door.

“Well I’ll be damned,” said Fishstick.

We all stared at the man in awe. Where did he come from? However, we shoved those questions aside, as we were all very desperate to get high. T-Bone pulled out a dutch and immediately began rolling a blunt. Twenty-five minutes later, the five of us were as high as a kite, sitting on the curb outside of Uncle Buck’s.

“Where’d you learn to do that shit, man?” asked Caps. “that shit was wild.”

“Oh, you pick up some things here and there,” he responded. “It’s not really a big deal. I can teach you guys if you want.”

“Well I apologize for pointing a gun at you, man… it’s hard to know who to trust around here, you know?”

“We cool, bro,” said the man, giving Caps a pound.

“And you too Bones,” Caps continued, turning towards T-Bone. “I’m an idiot. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Seriously man, you scared the shit outta me,” said T-Bone. “But you know I love ya, man. We good. But where the hell did you get that gun from, anyway?”

I had been wondering the same thing.

“I stole it, actually,” replied Caps. “From a pimp.”

“Wow, man,” said Fishstick. “That’s pretty foolish.”

“Give me the gun.”

We turned. It was the man that said that. He was extending his hand towards Caps.


“I said… hand me the gun. Trust me.”

Again, we had absolutely no reason to fully trust this man, but yet, he exuded an aura of extreme likability, and we couldn’t help but believe him. Caps thought for a second, then took out the gun and handed it to him. Immediately, the man stood up, and tossed the gun over a fence and into the river.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said.

I was liking this man more and more by the second.

“I don’t believe in violence,” he said. “As long as you’re patient, and you do the right things… you can get what you want.”

“You just blew my fuckin’ mind, man,” said Fishstick.

“You know,” started T-Bone. “I’ve never met someone like you before. You know, a colored man. You hear things, though. That you guys are… evil. That you aren’t equal to us. But, after talking to you and all, I don’t believe that. I think you’re a good guy, and that you people have been given a raw deal of it.”

The rest of us nodded our heads at these words. The man simply smiled.

“Thanks man,” he said. “That really means a lot to me, coming from you. We have certainly been given a raw deal, no doubt about it. But like I said, as long as we are patient, as long we remain civil and disobedient… we will be given our fair share in this world. If I have to do it myself, I’ll make sure it happens.”

It sounded ridiculous, but I couldn’t help but believe him. It was just then that I remembered something.

“It’s funny,” I said. “I had a dream last night… that I met a colored man. I hadn’t even thought about it until now. But when I woke up, I laughed about it. Never in a million years did I think it would actually happen for real.”

“Sometimes dreams do come true,” he said. “you wanna hear about my dream? I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’”

“Holy shit,” I said, “That’s deep man.”

“Yeah…” he said absentmindedly, “I think about those kind of things often.”

“No, but seriously,” I asserted, “you should like… write a speech or something. You’re very eloquent.”

“Maybe I will,” he replied, “Maybe I will…”

We all stood in silence, thinking about what this man had just said. For years, we have kept colored people repressed, not allowing them to advance further in our society. But after talking to this man, I couldn’t help but feel anger for him, and at what we have put him through. He deserved better. And yet, he wasn’t even angry! He was… calm, and relaxed. This was man was unlike anyone I had ever met before.

“Alright guys,” he said, standing up. “I should get going. Thanks for letting me toke with you guys.”

“Yea, man”, T-Bone. “Thanks for helping us with the car.”

“Not a problem,” he responded. “I had a great time… and you guys are good people. You made me think about a lot of things. Who knows, maybe I will write that speech.”

“You should,” said Fishstick. “I’d certainly wanna hear it.”

“Thanks,” he said. Well Dubs, Fishstick, T-Bone, Three Ball Caps, have a good night. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday.”

I had no idea how he knew our names. I did not recall any of us revealing them.

“Wait!” I yelled. “We didn’t catch your name!”

He stopped at turned towards us, and smiled.

“Call me Marty,” he said. “Marty King. Junior.”

At that, he turned the corner and walked out of our lives, leaving us to wonder if we’ll ever see or hear from this mysterious man ever again.