Achieving a perfect arch while spitting water directly from her mouth, as if she would be the very Trevi Fountain herself, turning it into a "spitting spectacle" is something only J can achieve. And all this to grab my attention and let me know that she’s ready for another episode. So, before I unleash my next piece, I want to clarify a few things to clear the air.
First off, individuals who spit don’t go to heaven. People who sneakily scroll through their phones while watching a movie, or reading this, won’t either. Secondly, after folks read my stories, I get a mix of responses: some send congrats and thumbs up, while others, let’s just say get a bit more... personal.
I’ve had more invitations for drinks than a happy hour special, and don’t even get me started on the Netflix and Chill propositions.
So, let me be clear, I owe myself to my audience and willingly accept any invitation that might be appealing, especially if the one inviting is buying.
Well, to be honest, I used to, because that’s all over now. I’ve changed my life, or rather, I’ve moved on to a better life. It all happened very fast. I was cruising down Venice Boulevard, passing by 'El Pollo Loco,' a Peruvian joint. I dropped by to catch up with my buddy Juan, aka 'El Piranha' who manages the place.
Isn’t that an irony? with a name like that, El Piranha’, when the joint’s all about chicken? Makes about as much sense as a “Fat-free\" dessert, the ultimate oxymoron, is defeating the purpose.
As I was saying, I was cruising along when, out of the blue, a manner of speaking, being colorblind and I wouldn’t notice if it was out of the blue or green, but the guy steering my motorcycle (okay, it was me) slammed on the brakes for a spontaneous snack break. Right over an oil slick, on this rain.
PS1: the California Solar Mandate kicked in back in 2020 for single-family residential homes; they’re just waiting for the sun to make its grand entrance.
Anyways, as I was saying, right over an oil slick and on this rain, the bike, a sleek 1975 BMW R90\/6 in classic timeless black, decided to spice things up and pull a surprise spin move due to the abrupt stop, and slippery surface.
PS2: if you are a male: yes, colors can be timeless, like predicting the weather with aching joints – because who needs a meteorologist when you’ve got a bad knee? And yes, Magenta, is a color, Marengo is a color, Macaroni is a color, and now I’m hungry.
Not gonna lie, it caught me off guard, along with everyone else on the road. But instead of freaking out, I found myself clapping and singing along. Rather than witnessing my life flash before my eyes, as the stories go in these close-call moments, I found myself extremely calm. Why? Because this whirlwind brought back memories of the gleeful chaos of childhood carousels – a dance of nostalgia. It felt like stepping into a dream.
When the motorcycle stopped describing what I like to call “The Circle of Life”, I decided to step into a bakery that happened to be there, I chose that bakery because it has its doors wide open. There was nothing inside to suggest that it wasn’t just a regular bakery, so I asked the lady behind the counter for a loaf of bread. Though I asked for it, my intention was to buy it.
The woman behind the counter squinted her eyes and adopted a circumspect air, a word whose exact definition eludes me, but it sounds posh enough and adds a touch of sophistication to these writings, especially if it’s a bit of a tongue-twister, and challenging to pronounce.
Please be aware that I’m introducing a fresh vocabulary, a selection of words aimed at engaging a more 'sophisticated and cultured' audience. I typically write our weekend experiences, J’s and mine, to craft most of the stories. However, I lose the threat and forget things almost as fast as a politician forgets his campaign promises, so I tend to invent most of the things (That’s right I’m an inventor). – These inventions of mine usually kick in when I’m hungry, and for the past three days, I haven’t been able to run some errands due to the Incessant Rain – so she’ll likely be displeased and unleash her frustrations in the form of water coming from her mouth, once more.
Representation of J’s spitting spectacle on a scale of 1:16 But you like it, silly! - she might have said.
followed by a.- “Tell me you love me”
This show is getting weirder and weirder.
So, if you didn’t know what the word “air” means, you are not my “audience”, or “sophisticated enough”.
Where I was? Oh yes, in the bakery…with a “circumspect air”, she looked at me and said in a deep voice, she was a heavy smoker. Why does someone who is called to the Lord's table need bread?\" I looked at the lady, the lady looked at me, we both looked at each other and then I asked myself:
\"HUH?\"
As mentioned earlier, I tend to lose track easily, which is exactly what I was discussing with J last night when she started blaming me for always getting lost in the storyline.
Do you even listen when I talk? She asked.
I politely pointed her out that I heard a constant noise in my ear. That seemed to set her off.
“At least I’m not using bombastic and pretentious words to try to sound smarter than I am.”
I clarified I suffer from Tinnitus, and slightly raised my voice, to tell her that she doesn’t need to explain what’s happening in the show every two minutes, that she’s being rude. The last word \"rude\" didn’t seem to go over well with her, whether it was because I shouted it or because I intentionally enunciated each letter for emphasis.
R-U-D-E!!!
I didn’t mean to offend her...Seriously, there are plenty of rude people, but still find people who love them.
You know what, I regret watching this show with you,\" she said.
\"You regret it?- I replied. \"I regret accepting watching this crappy show as well C.R.A.P.P.Y
\"You regret it?\" she repeated.
\"Yes,\" I replied again.
\"Well, I regret it even more.\"
\"I regret it much more.\"
And there we were, both caught in a circle of mutual and shared remorse when the motorcycle took the opportunity to pass over the oil slick again. I don’t even remember what happened next, except that there was a loud bang, a crash, and then a sudden ascent. I was rising to the heavens.
As I ascended, everything seemed smaller. My view of the world became 360 and I finally understood globalization. All of a sudden borders blurred and were invisible. And then, it hit me. I need glasses.
The view made me forget at first that I had changed. I had shifted to a different state, a better life. And despite popular belief, moving between states isn’t all that tough. Especially if you now know of someone at the DMW office, but due to the weather, the DMW system has been down for the last few days.
What a glorious day! - J said.
Now, changing from a physical to an incorporeal state is something else. My feet didn’t smell anymore. And no light at the end of the tunnel, or seeing the movie of your life, in my case, it was so fast that they didn’t even bother with a trailer. I felt relieved, though; dying is bad enough, let alone having to watch a low-budget movie.
When I arrived in heaven, Saint Peter wasn’t there, there was an Intern.
\"Good morning, what can I do for you?” I don’t know if it was a sense of humor or ignorance.
\"Visiting my dad and some friends”
He was just being polite. He rolled his eyes, took out a big book, looked in another even bigger one, then in another one, took out some B\/W copies from Staples, and finally told me he couldn’t let me in. But he didn’t know who he was talking to, so I let him know.
You don’t know who you’re talking to,\" I said. He told me being a relative of someone important was useless up there.
I was Bush's consigliere, and look at me.
the father or the son? - I asked.
Jeff. - he replied.
Well….but it’s not what I meant. Do you have a Bible handy?
Seriously? He asked.
“Look, here: 'Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Blessed are the repentant, for they shall enter the Kingdom of Heaven,”- See?\"
Then, I proceeded to show him the video where I regretted watching the TV show with J.
\"You regret it?\"
\"Yes.\"
\"Well, I regret it even more.\"
\"I regret it much more.\"
Was that on 4K?- he inquired before he let me in, he had to.
But he was letting me in through a small door in the back, and after the struggle, I demanded to enter through the main door.
Had my mother witnessed this, she would have swelled with pride, she was always telling me that clowning around wouldn’t get me anywhere... I had managed to enter the gates of heaven through the main door.
“Fuck yeah”.- I yelled.
\"HEY!\" a megaphone blared.
\"What the fuck was that? - I exclaimed.
\"Next time, you going straight to God’s office.\"
\"You gotta be fucking kidding me!\"
MEGAPHONE: \"To God’s office right now.\"
Barely 5 minutes into heaven, and I found myself summoned to the Lord’s side, to his office. So many questions came to my mind at that moment. Would his office resemble the Oval Office, or perhaps more like the office of a non-governmental headquarters?
As I entered, a picture of his son caught my eye, well, it was a drawing. Next to it was a world map with three black pins, and that’s when he told me those were the only three places on Earth where rainfall was absent.
Then, he went on a rant about our insufficient concern for Global Warming, asserting that floods serve as warning signs. He appeared somewhat agitated if you ask me. Then he went on and on
“… everything was going according to the plan. Saint Peter was at the door with the sin scale... but then, the lawyers and the darn unions showed up, pardon my language”
I know what you’re thinking, but He is God, he speaks several languages.
He continued. - “Union lawyers claimed that Saint Peter works more hours than he should, that the scale was prone to error…they even brought in an intern. And to be honest, I think it’s for the best because Saint Peter was already overwhelmed…
Saint Peter, let me in.
No.
Saint Peter, let me in.
No.
Saint Peter, let me in.
Okay, fine
….He pulled the same stunt with the rooster”.- God said.
I hate this guy. I hate him. I hate him.
Suddenly, J’s shouts woke me up. She was yelling at the TV,
\"I hate this guy, he’s immortal!”
Of course, he is,\" I thought to myself. \"He’s God.”
“You were snoring”,- she continued.
Five seasons have come and gone, yet the rain persists, much like this individual’s refusal to meet his end. I’m starving.
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