Psychobabble the First
 
By Gustavo Belotta
 

 I was feeling suicidal the other day.  I was all ready to kill myself.  I had the noose tied and everything.  Then I realized it was just heartburn.  Boy, was I relieved.
 So I sat down in front of the canvas I was working on trying to figure out how the hell one goes about painting a realistic kidney.  The painting was to be entitled Guts and I had already managed a convincing set of lungs.  I was racking my brains, but I couldn't for the life of me conceive any conception on kidneys.  I was on the verge of sacrificing my roommate in the name of Art when I realized that most people don't know what the hell a kidney's supposed to look like anyway.  So I painted a pocket-watch instead.  Boy, was my roommate relieved.
 Speaking of time, I want a clock that has thirteen hours on it instead of twelve.  I never seem to have as much time to do things as I would like.  And while I'm on the subject of wanting, I think I'll mention the fact that total world peace is a good idea.  But only if I get to be the leader, otherwise it wouldn't be much fun.  For me, anyway.  If I were the leader, I would demand equal rights for inanimate objects.  After all, they're people too.  And what's all this about inanimate objects? There's no such thing!  Everything moves, molecules are constantly churning.  And why don't people churn their own butter anymore?  And why did they apply the name Butterball to a turkey?  And why don't turkeys come from Turkey, and hamburgers from Hamburg, and french fries from France?  And what's so cool about Denver that it should get an omelette named after it?  And do they call it a Denver omelette in Denver?
 I know why the Mona Lisa smiles.  Davinci's assistant was making bunny ears behind his head.  Who wouldn't smile?  I think people should eat rabbit for Easter.  I think people should eat a big fat old guy with a beard for Christmas.  And for Thanksgiving?  An Indian and a Pilgrim.  Light meat or dark?  If you're going to be a hypocrite, might as well go all the way!
 
 
 

 
 
   
 
 
No roomates were harmed in the writing of this story.
 
 
CopyrightŠ 1993ish, 1994, 1998 Psychoknot Press
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