“Now my own suspicion is that the Universe is not only queerer than we suppose,
but queerer than we can suppose.”
–J. B. S. Haldane
PREVIOUSLY ON “SUICIDE HOTLINE FOR DEPRESSED PIGS”:
I tried to get a job at Wendy’s but a giant retard ruined everything.
…AND NOW, THE THRILLING CONTINUATION!
My travails were not over for the day, however. As I walked into my apartment I felt that old, familiar presentiment of doom that had always before indicated that Julia The Pig, my pet pig, was up to Dark Mischievousness.
I had had the same uneasy feeling that time she established a Doukhobor-inspired vegan/nudist colony in our apartment (in the time it took me to run out for a pack of cigs, if you can believe that), the time she successfully — successfully, mind you — sent a Barbie-doll into low Earth orbit in order to demonstrate some point which I forget now about how female pigs are just as capable of making a contribution to space-exploration as male pigs are or something like that, and the time she taped over my Star Trek: Deep Space Nine reruns (BITCH!), so I was pretty certain that I would soon be devoting a disproportionate amount of time to something that was decidedly not “worth it.”
(If it’s any indication of what kind of insane life I lead, I find myself writing sentences like the immediately foregoing all the damn time.)
“…All I’m saying, God,” I could hear Julia from the other room, “is that if the pepper-shaker is ‘in possession of’ the duck-puppet, then it’s the pepper-shaker that owns the duck-puppet, right?”
“Right…” said God, struggling to keep up with the lightning-quick thought-process of Julia’s razor-sharp mind.
“…And yet,” she continued, “if the pepper-shaker is ‘in THE possession of’ the duck-puppet, then it’s the duck-puppet that owns the pepper-shaker, right?”
I walked into the bedroom and was relieved to find that, when Julia mentioned a duck-puppet and a pepper-shaker, she was referring to an actual duck-puppet and pepper-shaker. I felt that the alternatives could only have been immeasurably worse. I thought, for instance, that “The Pepper-Shaker” could easily be the name of a spicy Latina pole-dancer, and I shudder to think what kind of depraved sex-act requiring the non-consensual participation of a waterfowl’s cloaca could conceivably bear the appellation of “the duck-puppet.” To my relief, however, I saw that Julia was using a pepper-shaker and what looked to be a woolen duck-puppet she must have found on the side of the road or something as placeholders in nothing more scandalous than an impromptu visual demonstration of a grammatical concept, thank God.
…Or rather, thank Julia, I suppose.
“Whoa,” said God, munching on a brownie, as overcome with awe as if He had just witnessed Chomskian universal grammar elaborated in a copy of Dan Brown’s classic masterwork, The Lost Symbol. “It’s almost like the word ‘the’ in that sentence functions as… as a kind of ‘oppositizing morpheme’!”
“Dude,” said Julia, staring in the middle distance at nothing in particular as she munched thoughtfully on a brownie of her own, “we must be, like, ‘the’ two most genius people in the entire world!”
It was, by a significant margin, the stupidest thing I had heard all day, which is not a trivial comment to make considering I had just spent the afternoon being “interviewed” by a retard.
Much of the inanity, however, was brought suddenly into sharp focus when my glance happened to alight upon a half-eaten pan of brownies lying next to a little plastic baggie filled with some kind of mysterious, greenish, herbal-looking shavings.
“What’s that?” I asked Julia, pointing to the baggie filled with the curiously marijuana-colored foliage.
“That, m’lad,” piped up God, raising an adorably pudgy little index-finger into the air, “is neither more nor less than Julia The Pig’s very own Especial Brownie Ingredient! I Myself was, initially, dubious about the inclusion of such a savory spice in so sweet a toothsome treat — but I must admit, I’m glad I tried it, in the end! After all, variety is the ‘SPICE’ of life, eh?”
Here God winked at me, flourished his children’s-sized cape, tipped his feathered cap jauntily askew, and kicked his heels together, causing darling little golden bells dangling from the tips of his pointed shoes to jingle merrily.
I disregarded God’s stupid dance and turned to the pig responsible. “Please tell me the ‘Special Ingredient’ isn’t ‘Cannabis,’ Julia,” I said without much hope that she’d be able to follow my request without resorting to Dark Falsehood.
“What, this!?” said Julia, picking up the offending plastic baggie and looking at it with a bemused expression. “Nah, this here’s oregano, Chaahlie, just as simple as that!” Then she cleverly concealed her face from God’s view by carefully positioning it directly behind her spry little hoof; in this way, God’s vision was “obstructed” by the hoof, and he was unable to see that Julia was winking at me conspiratorially, as if to say, Psst, Chaalie! It’s me, Julia The Pig! You know, the one you live with? Hey, I just wanted to tell you that it *REALLY IS* marijuana — I just *TOLD* you it was oregano because this is the lie I wish God to believe! Don’t let on, k? Heh heh 😉
“Oregano?” I said skeptically.
“Oregano,” God, obviously blazed out of His fucking skull, explained, “is like if Regan had been elected to serve in-between two Oreo cookies.”
“Or if he had misspelled ‘Oregon’ when he wrote the Constitutional List of State Names,” Julia pointed out.
“Oregano???” God rejoined, sassily putting one hand on His hip while snapping the fingers of His other hand with a substantial infusion of ’tude, “More like ‘OregaYES!!!’”
Then, in what nine out of ten dentists agree is an absolutely terrible pun, Julia turned to me and whispered: “Talk about getting the baker baked, eh Chaalie?” she said, then nudged me suggestively in the rib with her elbow.
“Do you mean to tell me,” I said, disregarding their *hilarious* two-man comedy routine in my growing irritation, “that you spent the entire day eating ‘oregano’ brownies and debating the coarser points of English idiosyncrasy when I specifically asked you to do some laundry while I was out?”
“Chaalie!” said Julia The Pig, placing an indignant hoof upon her self-righteous chest as if I had just implied that her mother’s chastity had been all-too-willingly relinquished on a regular basis to pigs other than her sire, “I’m offended! What, you think your old pal Julia The Pig’s as feckless a wastrel as a member of that one particular racial/ethnic group all of whom are extremely lazy (you know the one I mean)?!? I’ll have you know that, in addition to baking our asses off, we also compiled a very-good list that you need for God’s Genius Blog. So there!”
Here Julia proffered to me a list which had been hastily scribbled in “thistle” crayon (which, for reasons that are entirely beyond me, appears to be some sort of pinkish color) on a long sheet of butcher paper. The list ran as follows:
LIST OF CUTEST ANIMAL-NAMES, PER SPECIFIED ANIMAL:
1.) Dolphin: “Squirty” (or how bout “Blow-Hole” heh heh –JTP)
2.) Tiger: “Li’l Grr”
3.) Monkey: “Professor Bananas” (or “Senior Instructor Bananas” if monkey does not yet have tenure)
4.) Panda: “Little Tumbles” (no substitutions)
5.) Giraffe: “Top-Hat” (SUCH A CUTE NAME FOR A GIRAFFE!!!!!!!!!!!!)
6.) Puppy-dog: “Li’l Scruff” (obv.)
7.) Clydesdale: “Clompy” (obv.)
8.) Bumble-bee: “Mrs. Bumbly-Wooz”
9.) Unicorn: “Horny” *(note: this is a CUTE unicorn name; for a list of GLAMOROUS unicorn names, see “Appendix A: Glamorous Unicorn Names”)
10.) Kitten: “Cocoa” (note: name adorable regardless of color of kitten)
11.) Mouse: “Cheesy McGee”
*Appendix A: Glamorous Unicorn Names:
Upon completing my perusal of the list, I looked up, my eyelids heavy with incredulity, weariness, and unamusement, at Julia. She had crossed her arms and was looking at me with a self-satisfied expression on her piggy snout. “That kinda quality don’t just write itself ya know, Chaalie,” she said smugly.
“And even if it did,” input God sassily, “you wouldn’t be able to write it, either!”
I honestly do not think that I can end this episode of God’s Very Awesome Blog That Is Nice To Read in a way that better represents what a turn for the absurder my life has taken since God moved in (“temporarily, I assure you!!” He assures me — we’ll see…) with me and my pet pig, Julia The Pig. I guess the Moral of the Story is this: the next time my pet pig instructs me to thwack a giant mushroom in twain, remind me to check and make sure there isn’t a deity living in it first!!!
P.S.: God just said, “Don’t you mean, ‘the MOREL of the Story’???????” and insisted that I add it to the blog.
P.P.S.: No, God, I don’t know how to add a video-clip of you doing a cute little Estonian folk-jig for our readers, and no, I do not care that you already spent half an hour getting all dressed up in your cute little traditional Estonian folk-garb in preparation for the dance.