Did you know it’s possible to be too big of a fan of Michael Bolton? Apparently it’s bad for your brain.

You should probably stop.

You know who you are.

I am filled with a profound sadness that I have only now begun to be able to put words to.

There are people that put their Hungryman in the oven.

Hungrymans are a special level of sad, that I have to imagine attempting to grant some sort of edibility to it, you try to do something that would probably take as long to bake as it would to just make whatever was in it from scratch and avoid 18 trillion pounds of sodium directly into your heart.

You’re probably stupid if you eat Hungryman. Probably really stupid.

Look I’m sorry, I apologize. That was terrible of me.

I have marked this post for deletion and I will excommunicate myself from my family.

Farewell.

Whoo, man. So glad we finally made it! Consumer Expo! 2021! Sure glad COVID is over and I can worry about my herpes more. And my job. Gotta make sure these people know about our great products.

Hello, sir? Yes, would you like to try a home security system? No? Why not? Are you scared? Are you a scared bitch? Are you a little scared little bitch? No? You sure? He’s already walking away.

Excuse me, sir! Yes I’d like to talk to you about LockBox Protection. What do you mean you don’t have a lockbox? Then what did I leave my apartment key in when I was with your mom last night? Huh? Idiot? You sure you don’t want to talk about it?

Fine, have a nice day! Be sure to take a koozie from our booth.

Oh hi, yes ma’am, we have a money back guarantee. You are guaranteed to lose your money as it belongs to us and maybe if you didn’t know so many assholes, you wouldn’t need our fuckin security system, would you? Try thinking? Brains? You can think with brains?

Not a single sale yet and it’s all my fault. I am destined to forever disappoint my manager, my family, and myself. I have only one course of action here.

Editor’s note: The writer died and refused to finish this essay.

Get your lockbox security from LockBox Protection, today!

Yes?

Dearly beloved, we are here to bid farewell to our good friend.

Brian’s tiny sweaty balls.

To those that knew him best, knew him as a tiny man with even tinier sweaty balls. Those that knew him least generally assumed so.

His balls were Brian’s best fiends, and yet his greatest enemy. Advice from his father could not quell their sweaty spirit. Nor could the extra strength powder the doctor gave him.

Needless to say, we have much to be thankful for as we have grown up in the same era as a tiny, but giant, pair of balls. They were on a constant quest of vengeance against the forces of good hygiene. Without fear or reluctance, they siphoned their most bravest emotions into their daily work, fueled not by passion but of pure rage.

And so Brian’s tiny sweaty balls set about conquering the world. They may have been forcibly removed by an accidental gunshot wound borne of a fight over whether non-plastic straws were either a great choice in life or a grave injustice, worthy of a duel one would make as a 19th century drunkard – which you promptly and immediately lose. That part isn’t important.

The important thing is we will never have to hear about Brian’s tiny sweaty balls. They have departed this mortal plane and now rest in tiny ball heaven. May their tiny balls find tiny pieces of sweaty peace.

Amen.

Sincerely,

Brian’s big ass taint

If I ever win at anything, you’ll know. You’ll understand and you’ll know. You’ll say – that guy won. He’s a winner. I am absolutely a winner beyond words. You will grasp the importance of me winning.

There will never be another champion of skee ball in Atlantic City like me. Tell your fuckin kids to stay in college – they’ll never reach the heights I’ve achieved in such a short amount of time.

I have no regrets, I say as I request to be buried under the boardwalk after dying of skee ball addiction.

Human beings have no idea when it be, but when it be, it do.

That’s a shit phrase dude. Wasted potential.

I think it’s a shit phrase because it’s often a lot of shit people saying it. Now I’m not saying I ever heard it, but if I did you can damn well bet I’d have challenged them to a fight outside the dairy queen near route 541. That much is certain.

Stop worrying about other people’s potential. You got enough to worry about on your own.

You know what the scariest thing in the world is? Having a penis that actively tries to bite you.