By Nous June 6, 2004 I WAS NOT BUILT FOR CONVERSATION "What the fuck!" I hissed to myself. I was standing in the only thrift store where everybody knows my name. It's like Cheers, dude, for real. Well, it's sort of like Cheers except everyone doesn't know me. It's the opposite of the thing I just said, is what I'm trying to say. But it's cool. I was standing before this enormous machine with a screen allow- ing me to see little dinosaurs killing enemies with balloons. I think you call them "arcades" or something. I call them Machines of Illusory Visions!, and I was before the one that had in giant colorful letters across the top the name "BUBBLE BOBBLE." I was not kicking the machine's ass this time, as I often would in previous encounters with it.I kept dying and losing The Shoes And the Fast Bubbles and nothing was going right at all. Then, I see someone standing to my left. I had just uttered the words "What the fuck" to myself, angrily. I turn and see it's some guy with spiked black hair dressed all in black. It was really strange looking at him after I had been staring at a colorful screen for the longest time. I turn away from the guy quickly and he says, "You're pretty far dude." No, I'm not. I'm not very far and I'm doing horribly. "Uh, yeah, I guess," I mutter. "Get the shoes." I know, damn it. That's what I'm trying to get but these fucking Flying Phantoms of Purple are bouncing from place to place. They are everywhere. I get the shoes. Then I'm dead again. "Fuck..." "You're dead," he informs me. I've got one more life. Suddenly I start kicking ass and getting The Shoes and killing mine enemy and finding Potions and feeling very much the way God would feel if he were real, but he's not. "Whoa." Yes, now you can be impressed. But don't be impressed for long - no, please don't - because I'm about to die wheeeeee. Yeah, I'm dead now. As I'm walking away I see the guy drop a quarter into the machine but he'll never beat my score, so I'm not worried. No, it's not arrogant. I'm pretty good. Very good compared to all of the others who try to beat my score but fail. But not good enough. Not quite. I walk to the shelf of books at the back of the store and see it is crowded with old people. I walk to the records and find not a thing. I do find the Dirty Dancing soundtrack on casette. Dirty Dancing - why do you follow me everywhere? I decide I'll check out the CD's at the front and see that blond girl with glasses. I dont like her. I shouldn't say that because I don't know her, but I don't like her presence. Whenever I walk into the thrift store and she is there, I try to pretend she is not. I had her for a class senior year in high school, but she didn't say much. All the same, her being there unnerved me. Ever since then, I have disliked her presence, and so when I saw that she'd gone and got herself a job at MY thrift store I was disappointed. When I was buying a book the other day, she was at the register. She said the total was "forty eight." Forty eight? Well obviously she meant forty eight cents, but the way she said it sounded like "four eighty-eight" and I involuntarily blurted out, "What?" She said, "Forty eight cents." And I put down my two quarters, unnerved by her reply - a little too quick and abrasive. "What did you think I said?" she asked in this horrible tone. "Four eighty eight," I murmured. I think I walked out of there without getting my two cents. And without giving her my two cents!! :)))) Get it? RANDOM WRY HUMOUR, VERY DEPRESSED -_- I've spent this entire Sunday in my room. I think I've said before that Sundays are meant to be spent in a comfortable place, but seeing as I spend most of my days in this room, you can see why it was extremely boring and depressing. Can you see? Probably. I feel like this small room has been filling up with all of my thoughts and emotions. I stared at the ceiling earlier, lying on my sort of uncomfortable futon, and it seemed as if a dark cloud was literally hanging over me. I quickly rose from my position and tried to brush away the cloud. I was unsuccessful. I paced around my room for the longest time. That is all I have to say about that. DID I SAY INCEST? I MEANT SODA Soda is great. Soda is my shining star. Anyone who doesn't drink soda is no friend of mine. So drink it! It has all sorts of vitamins like osteoporosis and stuff. Cigarettes are not that bad. Underage drinking is okay. TV does not suck. Marriage is for losers. Children are for developing countries. Carbs are delicious. Being rich might just make things better. Sex is pretty neat. Guns are not bad. Morals are outdated. Shut your fucking trap. You heard me. Nous is a player of guitars who contributes to Parenthood Bi-monthly and Cosmopolitan Magazine. He has written a novel called, "Sometimes It Takes A Day To Write One Sentence," and is currently working on a childrens book. He lives in California where he hopes to one day find happiness.