A Shady Blue BlanketTo Cover Me When I’m Cold
by @thomas-hatchett
When I’m cold, I always think:
At least I don’t still live in my truck
I’d be stuck.
And just my luck I avoided it this time. By the grace of gods Devine design, he placed a woman to save me from the streets and let me be me AND be housed SAFE AND WARM AND OUT OF THE RAIN. Guess this time he wants to see me succeed. Everyone does, everyone but me (it would seem).
Still, That old girl did pretty good for 2 grand in two weeks. And I drove her hard into the ground – like I do with everything. And everyone I meet gets to be the next victim, you see. And I grind em down and wear em out till there spent and I’m laughing away as I disengage and relent
-Lessly I speak at speed and parry anything and everything you say, and make a conversation a challenge and I’m the champion — ONE TO NUTHin, game over I win; And as far as I can see, ain’t nobody you’ll meet that can out talk lil’ol’me
Well at least it used to be. I’ve softened my edges and taken to seeking peace
But I still get a wild hair every now and then. I can’t shake it, I need release. But I keep throwing the same party and no one’s showing up any more, so it’s time to change the ingredients, or move the feast.
Sitting wrapped in shades of blue, blanketed, in shadow, and sheathed in quiet solitude, sat comfortably upon a patio, among purple stained brick, arched in silence and silhouetting a vista of pleasantries until recently, you could not have convinced me to conceive. Unbeknownst to me, it would seem I did not believe such serene scenery could or would ever suit me. But here I sit, unseen, enveloped, comfortable and warm. Safe. Not Home, but Homie, something like it, maybe more if I’d let myself believe. And relent and except the premise that it might be good for me.
How wrong I would have been.
This quiet life is divine and devinity isn’t cheap. It carries cost much more than money if you wish to achieve the kind of peace that I seek… but you see.. I can’t pay. I dont have enough currency left to release. What I have I need to keep, cuz I need something to bring with me, to pay the ferryman, and tip the carriage driver, and a little walking around money for a bite to eat maybe, some spending money in case there’s anything I see I need, and a little more to take to the scales of life, to barter with, or bribe the barrister, Whatever it takes, I guess, to get another try. I can probably talk him into it for no money. We’ll have to see. Cuz it is HIGHLY unlikely I make it anywhere near him with coin left jingling in my pockets. No sir not me. That ain’t how I live. So we’ll just wing it when we get there. Couldn’t go worse than that open mike I bombed. (And that wasn’t even that bad. He got three GOOD laughs, and a couple chuckles in between; started strong - middle slump - another good one and a death drop pratfall to wrap it up neatly, and in keeping with the metaphor that I was dying onstage.
[1. Read the transcript p. 2-233]
[read the reviews on p. 3-17]
This life has been too good to me to leave and it’s not fair to make me. So I think I should get another try. What could it hurt, I was a delight last time. Check the tape, it all checks out. God loved me, Man; he had a big ol' plan he never even bothered to tell me about, but I know he was laughin’ his ass off the whole time– there’s no other reason why I was allowed to live it out this long this out-loud.
So whaddaya say? What’s the play here? Can I go back out and play? It’s not really lights out now, is it?
I’ll take the silence as tacit approval…
Ok. Great! See you later.
I’ll swing back through on my way back out ;p
Wait! No. You can’t just… go.
God dammnit, again!
One of these days imma get him. That slippery lil dick. Can’t believe he juked me out again. I was sure this time, he was got. Well… There’s always next time.
He gets away… And death just lets him.
The Reaper knows he can’t run forever; it gets old (and so do they). Eventually, they all give up running and come see what eternity is about.
Sorry for Yelling at yall so long, you did good. Most people tap out. Thanks for playing, though, it was a good game. Good clean fun, with dirty language.
Til next time folks, I gotta jet. Catch you on the flip-side, out somewhere loud.
And he’s gone…
Got ‘em :) game over, one to nothing I win!
Whoooo Yeah
Hooray yay
Yaaay. hurrah!
Go team.
Oh goody…
[coming through on staticky radio, from another room]
“The once,
and still reigning,
all time world champene,
Mister Trashbag himself,
The one
The only
Timmothy Thomas Cain Hackett
THE MAYOORRR!!
Back at it after his 9th life hit over-time.
It’s the game of the century folks! can he make it? Can he live easy and live free and live to tell about it and always be funny… and never die. Like smart funny, though. Witty even, but not too witty; don’t act too smart, or be too free– people will think you’re crazy, or obscene.
The “Never dying” is important.
Actually.
To be honest, It’s the MOST important thing.
EVERYTHING ELSE IS LAGNIAPPE
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