ON SEEING A SHOOTING STAR AND WISHING FOR A LOVE LIKE BENNIFER’S
it all happened so quickly: i was chilling on my balcony sipping a milwaukee ice when a big bright light flashed across the sky. immediately i knew what i had to do and i prayed to the astrological deity dudes for a lil bit of luck. i said:
dear giant star god bros--it’s me again. shawn. i know this might be asking for a lot but i’ve been really good this year; if you can find it in your shiny hearts to bless me with a love like bennifer’s, i will be forever grateful. it would mean the world to me to have someone who encourages my dunkin’ addiction; to have someone feed me munchkins in between iced coffee sips while driving on i-95; who lights me another marb red when mine is flaming out. for once i would love to be loved for me and my man-child hygeine, my scratchy beard, my i got outta bed for this target graphic t attitude. is that too much to ask for?
the next morning when i woke up you were wrapped around my arms, smiling. i knew my wish didn’t work.
.
IT WOULD BE AN ABSOLUTE HONOR FOR JEAN-CLAUDE VAN DAMME TO KARATE KICK MY NECK INTO OBLIVION
of course there is one prerequisite: he has to dismantle me while sporting his luscious mullet
not that bullshit
2 on the side
tight on the top haircut that he has right now.
i’m sure most people would agree that this is insane to have this hotshot ‘80s action star destroy my vertebrae with the flick of his ankle
but i think having my enitire headular area hanging on by a thread as a direct result of a vicious slo-mo jcvd kick is a goddamn honor!
imagine the conversation starter that might be
how i would instantly become the most interesting person at a party
all because mr vd has left me looking like a half-dead zombie.
it’s a dream come true
and it would still hurt way less than blowing my savings account to marry you in central park on a humid august afternoon only to discover that it was a huge mistake.
honestly your habit of
talking in that high-pitched pet voice of yours regardless of our cats being around or not
is driving me nuts.
if anyone’s reading this, please help.
my email is shawnbberman@gmail.com. put mullet lover in the subject line so i can filter out the spam.
i’m seriously desperate.
Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. His book, Mr. Funnyman, is funny. Twitter: @sbb_writer.