Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

The Most Exciting Stage Show In Rock And Roll

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“If I gotta watch this motherfucker play Candy Crush one more time…”

OR

“Josh showed this to me. It’s called Snapchat. I have no idea what the hell it is, but I have 30,000 followers.”

OR

“Selfie?”

“I don’t wanna selfie, Bob.”

“Selfie?”

“No, Bob.”

CLICK

“Selfie.”

“Jesus, Bob.”

OR

“Hey, fucker.”

Excuse me?

“Dickfooted asseater.”

Me?

“Only two of us here, and you’re the asshole, so you must be the asshole, asshole.”

Red Metal Stool?

“THOUGHT I WAS DEAD, DID YA?”

Oh, settle down.

“I’m in the system, jackass. I got tenure. They get rid of Chimenti before they get rid of me.”

Shush.

“They can’t fire me. I know things. Thiiiiings.”

Yeah, yeah. Congratulations on making it to the tour.

“I’M THE HEADLINER, FATHERSUCKER.”

Ew. You’re awful.

“You dropped me, man! Where have I been?”

You never really caught on. Someone in the Comment Section called you Scrappy-Doo.

“Which one? I want a name.”

Absolutely not.

“Was it one of the Canadians?

I’m not saying.

“Let me back in.”

What? Where?

“Your little fan-fiction.”

IT IS NOT–

–fan fiction.

“Sure, right. Lemme back in. I could be a recurring character.”

Dude, you’re a red metal stool and your name is Red Metal Stool. There’s not much to work with.

“You could flesh me out.”

You have no flesh. There’s just not much to you.

“Precarious Lee started as a pun!”

I started in my father’s balls. From lowly origins, etc.

“What about the Wall of Sound? That’s a pile of speakers, for fuck’s sake, and it’s on t-shirts!”

LEAVE ME OUT OF YOUR WHINING.

“Can he hear us?”

He can hear everything. Stop bothering me, or I’ll take away your name. You’ll just be the red metal stool.

“You wouldn’t do that.”

And delete all the posts with you in it.

“What? Jesus, man.”

I’ll wish you away to the cornfield.

“You’re fucked. Y’know that, man? You’re fucked.”

Ah, I’m sorry. I’m cranky.

“Well, still: that was a terrible thing to say.”

Yeah, but you’re a stool that doesn’t exist and I’m just working some shit out here, y’know?

“I can understand that.”

You can?

“No. Fuck you.”

Better answer.

2 Comments

  1. Crap…I’ve seen a wider angle of this shit a few times today, and I didn’t notice Stoolie in the background. I thought we’d forged ahead to healthier, younger territory. Shit…none of these tickets, or vacation days, come with a guarantee? I sound old. I feel old. Now. Stupid stool.

  2. allthebeerscombine

    June 10, 2016 at 4:57 pm

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