I was talking to a man named ‘Daisy’ about my bedroom antics. He said, ‘Listen, if I have to hear one more time about you eating Obama’s Nobel Peace prize out of your own arse, I’m going home.’ I told him to get out of my house. I wasn’t angry, I just didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. You see this story takes place in a little town called ‘Detroit’. It’s a lot like the Detroit that you see in the movies, only it’s pronounced ‘Sydney’, and everyone walks backwards when you’re not looking. At least I suspect they do. I suspect so many things. If I was around before the communists were killed by that asteroid, I probably would have had a field day. Doing what exactly, I have no idea. After telling Daisy to beat it, I went back in time and married my old family dog. In a dream. That I had. After falling asleep in the arms of America. Nuclear arms! Y’know, I think we both know that this story needs to go home. I think it’s drunk enough.
Good night everybody, you’ve been swell.
(cut to commercial about a cooking show)
Q:What can one man do against the absurdities that tear at the heart strings in this post-modern-day global village of the damned?
A: Maybe he’s a wizard!
Q: No, he’s not a wizard.