Enzo Stephens: Have a Groundhog or Something

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Have a Groundhog or Something

By Enzo Stephens

My stomach rumbled and I felt the urgency of the bathroom demand, but maybe it wasn’t my belly, maybe it was the jumbo jet overhead. 

This was a normal occurrence since I lived so close to the new airport. Like, hey dude, thanks for the devaluation of my house. Jagoff.

Lyrics from Aerosmith’s ‘Walk This Way’ zipped through my head, but the funniest line of the whole song was this one: “… feet flying up in the air. Sing hey diddle diddle put your titty in the middle and swing like I didn’t care.”

See? Funny.

I married my mom.

Not literally, ya doofus. That would be el-sick-o. The sex would be… blech.

I married a woman 30 years younger than mom, but just like her. And to her, size DOES matter. Maybe that’s why she really digs jumbo jets.

I’ve always dreamed of flying in a SST. The SuperSonic Transport; you know, the plane that could get you from New York City to Minsk or some such place in like an hour. But then it went away and I’m left once again sucking on an empty dream.

I’m having a bitch of a time with this irritable bowel junk, and I hate airports.

And groundhogs.

Yeah, they look all fat and cute and roly-poly, but those little buggers… They crap everywhere! They’re too fat to be owl food. Never had sex with one, and I can’t imagine that ever happening.

Sometimes I think of plumbing systems in skyscrapers. Just thought you’d wanna know that. Like, is there any vacuum action involved or is it an entirely gravity-based system?

One of life’s great mysteries. Like what is the true nutritional content of a Hostess Ho-Ho? And really, let’s talk about strip clubs! Seriously, you can look but you can’t touch?!?! Not like I’d wanna touch, but it’s all about having options, ya know?

But then in March of Y2K, my dad ripped a paint-peeling special that he still laughs about to this day. Snarf a bunch of fiber bars, apples, oat bran, chili, baked beans, cheese, onions and garlic and see what kind of explosive fermentation happens to you. And there you have it. The dude rattled windows… next door!

I aspire to that.

“Uh, Mr. Holmes, all this is moving a little too fast for me to keep up. I have some question—”

How many stupid initials are behind your name, dear doctor therapist, Keeper of the Rubber Room? How many times do I gotta tell ya, it’s time to perch on the pot, know what I’m saying?

Now, which is worse, groundhogs or raccoons? Groundhogs poop everywhere, and they’re such plumpers that they’re not very hygienic about how they handle their mess.

But raccoons, now that’s a whole nutha level. Trash pickers. And they can get downright nasty when they’re booted out of their anticipated bounty.

There’s the rumbling bum again; feels like a pressure cooker.

My house sucks and there’s an evil horde of moles that live in my backyard; little bastards burrowing minefields all over the place, and then when they move out, well that’s when the nasty little ground wasps move in and sting the utter bejeebers out of a poor dude simply mowing his lawn.

I think about all the things I’ve accomplished in my life. Sixty years roaming this globe, never enjoying the color red whatsoever, and struggling for all my life to catch fish.

It’s like every line and bait I throw in the drink has a fish repellant.

All I can do is ask, WHY?

Just bite the damned hook, jagoff!

Then there’s that whole toenail thingie.

So one time I had an ingrown hair on the back of my neck. I think it cropped up when I was 18 or something, but I pretty much ignored it. Years rolled by and it would crop up now and again, but then it would recede and it was no biggy.

But a couple years ago I had this really weird pain in my butt that had nothing to do with IBS. So I had it looked at by our wondrous medical profession and he said there was a ‘growth’ in there. I told ’em to get it outta me damnit, like whatcha waitin’ for already? It’s a friggin’ GROWTH!

So they took pictures of my spine and then we had us a little chat. Doc said there was a hair (a hair?!?!?) that had grown down the length of my spine and wrapped itself around it.

What the hell was that?

The sky is blue, most skyscrapers in the US are pretty damned ugly, there’s no more SSTs and I married my mom.

Monkey-coffee rules!

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