Day 1

10:15 am: A co-worker is washing the blue chest plates used to teach CPR. He keeps repeating under his breath, “Die. Die. Die.” I am unsure if he is speaking to the chest plates or me.

He suggests we take a coffee break. I agree. The coffee tastes bad.

10:25 am: Reading the paper. All the CD Reviews have got three stars. I think somebody is not being critical enough.

12:08 pm: Hair cut. Hairdresser tells a story about his friend’s new cabin. It used to belong to the town dentist. In the basement, they found dozens of jars of teeth the dentist got from his patients. As a bonus, the haircut turned out pretty well.

3:50 pm: I realize the future predicted in the Robert Zemeckis film Back to the Future II is five years away. Hear that Science? Where’s my hoverboard?

3:07 pm: “Unfriend” Barack Obama on Facebook.

3:15 pm: Watch a young viking in a bandana enter the vestibule of my office building, presumably to discuss car insurance. Muse for a moment how out of step I am with other members of my generation. Suspect it is mostly because I use words like vestibule.

5:58 pm: Arrive at where I am house sitting. Find a pile of cash on top of a sheet of instructions. A bottle of Wild Turkey has been left for me.

8:14 pm: After many glasses of Wild Turkey, I consider my options. Couch or the public. I grab another glass of bourbon and my rain-jacket.

9:15 pm: I wait for the bus and look at the house where my great grandparents lived. The house has long since been sold.

9:35 pm: Reminded that I am in dangerous territory. Fell or something. Obviously not important.

9:40 pm: There is a girl, no older than 16 riding the train with a mess of groceries in her arms. I feel for her. I glance for her on the platform. She is gone. Like she never existed.

9:45 pm: I see a train. I wonder if the time it takes to reach the platform is enough time for a couple truly in love, to finish a orgasm. Counting the seconds, I decided “maybe.”

9:55 pm: The bus driver and passengers are plotting. There are dozens of balloons. The driver runs out and places the balloons on the hood of a near-by car. It takes ages.

1:55 am: Back at home after the club. Hazy memories. Saw some bands. Talked to some people perhaps. Don’t remember. Ate lots of midnight pizza.

A Form-Letter to Gain Friends on Internet Social Networks

Hello Fergis Writer Letter Reader,

I’ve decided I want to help you. I want to help you become more popular than you can imagine…but only on the internet.

So use the following letter to gain a slew of anonymous followers on Facebook or Myspace. Just insert your name where ‘Fergis McGillicuddy’ is written. You’ll be better than an academy award winner.

***Letter Starts Now***

The benefits of friendship with Fergis McGillicuddy are myriad.

As a friend of Fergis McGillicuddy:

1. You’ll get to experience life in a brand new and less shameful light. Your attractive new outlook will impress friends and acquaintances.

2. You’ll be guaranteed a position in the ultra-exclusive social club “The Choosers,” featuring equally ultra-members like: (insert super impressive names here) and of course, Fergis McGillicuddy.

3. You’ll smell finer than a mint cat with cotton candy fur. This comes with being able to control your body odor. In case of emergency you’ll be able to generate a foul-stench that renders your enemies anemic and lifeless at will.

4. You’ll cheat death until a hobbled Spaniard claims you owe him a bottle of wine. He’ll be satisfied with the bottle of balsamic vinegar, but his cadre of robot lawyers won’t.

5. You’ll receive reduced insurance premiums, as you won’t be able to be devoured by silver-toothed women, and thus, are understood to live longer by the mystic actuaries that determine insurance premiums.

Don’t let not being friends with Fergis McGillicuddy stand in the way of your dreams any longer!

Join the Fergis McGillicuddy friendship network right away.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

—Paid For By the Friends of the Fergis McGillicuddy Friendship Network—