Mezzo Swede
A Toast to World Domination
Mr.Maybe, Mr.Manson, and E.T.
I had almost convinced myself that I really was in a good
mood, out there on the balcony, with my book. The sun was
scorching my ghost-like complexion. But that's exactly what
I wanted. You see, everytime I go home to mother, she has
discovered a new way to tell me that I am paler than a
rotting corpse. Not only that, but she is also able to
provide all the reasons WHY I look like a rotting corpse. I
don't even have to participate in the conversation at all.
Without knowing anything about my eating habits, exercise
routines, or sleep patterns, she is able to observe that I
am tired, pale, and generally unwell, because I don't get
enough vitamins, and I don't sleep enough. In reality, I
sleep plenty, and am eating healthier than I ever have
before. That's what makes it twice as depressing to hear
that I am looking so incredibly sub-stellar. The way my
mother described me made it sound like I had died and
somehow been reincarnated as Marilyn Manson...But hey, if
that's really the case, and I am now Marilyn Manson...I may
be whiter than clorox, but at least I'm famous, with
multiple albums on the market. But, assuming that I haven't
experienced any such reincarnation, I have concluded that
sunlight is my only salvation at this time. Maybe if I get
a bit of a tan, the world can stop worrying about my face,
and start worrying about asteroids hurling towards earth,
or biological warfare, instead.
So, going back to my opening sentence, you may wonder what
made me stop believing that I was in a good mood. It was
the sprinklers. I was sitting there, soaking up the
ultraviolet rays to pacify mankind. In my lap I had my
book, intriguingly entitled "Mr.Maybe." It is just as
fascinating today, as it was the first 4 times I read it.
So, there I was, reading about, and somehow identifying
with, this career woman, determined to not fall in love, as
a result of too many heartbreaks. She decides instead to
have a fling, but has difficulties justifying sex without
emotional attachment...WHY am I talking about this? I was
supposed to write about how the sprinklers turned on and
sprayed the balcony, forcing me to flee indoors, before
becoming completely drenched. And instead, I write a book
report. I am so flighty these days!
I just took a shower, and looked in the mirror. My face,
the part of my body I wanted to tan, is still white as can
be. My stomach, however, is bright red. I don't look like
Marilyn Manson at all. I look like E.T.
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