Pedro: i don't care anymore! throw me out again see if i care! i need to go home anyway! i'm going to Miami!
Pedro slides down the Inverness canyon natural slide of grass wetted by the mist and Glencoe into a nearby crystal-lake-clear tributary. there it branches out into one larger tributary and then into an unknown green gulf, where Pedro sails on his pristine shiny shapely butt that acts as the most perfect red rudder to guide him to land and safety and coastline. he finally reaches Miami though it's hard to tell where the palm trees start and where the ocean ends.
Pedro: fuck this! what's going on? why is there only water in Miami? where are the Cuban-style roads and outdoor cantinas with bell lights? where's my childhood home of adobe and Grandma's tortilla powder and determination and grit and margarita mix in the face of wintry mix on the edge of the pier?
Jared Goff: *chewing on an avocado pizza* i'm afraid your house has been swept away by the red tide, washed away to sea. there's nothing left, you are a stranger and a wanderer forever the rest of your life. see our Blade Runner movie was surely unrealistic, there won't BE a 2030 much less any further year!!!
Pedro swims his way past boulder and stone like a human gondola cos the city is now just one big successful waterworld. he manages to spot the last splintery piece of wood from his house as a raft and is able to climb Alex Escarno out from drowning by his big manly hairy shoulders and plop him on the raft while Pedro catty-paddles to the side.
Pedro: BRO! i SAVED you! just like i'll save the world! i'd die if you had died! i can't do this without you! especially now, the entire world is against me, but you will always be my childhood friend and defacto uncle and kind of spiritual brother and failed lover.
Alex Escarno: yeah i was never gay. but i love you like if you were my husband. we grew up together on the mean streets of Cuba. then we both closed our eyes, got entered into sugar-potato duffel bags, without baths. and wound up abandoned on a beach in Miami. we thought that was a family vacation, it all looked the same, it's all one country in the end, right? i love you, man, no matter what. for life. till death separates us.
Alex wears a rainbow shirt that is more white stripes than rainbow. he looks like imagine if Pedro were even more handsome and sported a smooth Ted Danson mustache to garland his short trim hair. he is taller and has one more muscle than Pedro, and could pass for Pedro if push ever came to shove for police lineups at court.
Pedro: *shouting over the fierce winds* i was always jelaous of you, Alex. you were better-looking than me, you didn't beat up teachers at school, you were a good Cuban Catholic. the family and my mom loved you best, i never got over that. just know that all those times i punched you in the face i only meant it as a kind of rough foreplay thing. you must follow me, to wherever this ends, however far, i am so close to the potion formula. i've got the right mix in the palm of my fingertip cuticle. you must always be there for me, you are my only friend left on this earth.
Alex: what about Sean? aren't you gonna marry him even though you can't?
Pedro: oh yeah, him.
Alex: i pledge.
Alex hits himself on the forehead with the wooden plank in solidarity as the two friends and comrades paddle their way to the shore which is really an island now. on the way they finish their cold nonheated conversation:
Pedro: *playfully and nudging Alex in the shoulder hard with his blade, his shoulderblade* i'll never forgive you for forcing me to do Real World. that show sucks. what a crisis! such mental-abuse gymnastics and psychological wordplay anguish my body which it doesn't need now. they kicked me out! yeah, they actually kicked me out! that's a first for the show, it's like being the first President to ACTUALLY get impeached!
Alex: hey i didn't force you, that's your style, not mine. you actively petitioned me to do the audition video, you WANTED to be on the show, and wanted me to handheld the camera. you said you'd kick all the other castmates' asses, you wanted to raise your profile---your brand, you called it---to better achieve the ingredients.
Pedro: well tru tru. true enough. but i didn't know how piranha-y reality tv is! lecherous and shameless and LCD. backbiting, i'm all about back-loving, fucking in the butt.
they reach the AIDS clinic shack, the only one for water miles in Miami, a dilapidated hovel ready to turn to dust at any minute. one brown palm tree serves as the canopy instead of a redtile roof. inside, Pam is the nurse-in-charge!
Pam: doctor. doctor. Pedro? Alex? funny you two seeing you what are you two doing here!?
Pedro: i should ask you the same thing! you're a doctor now? how's married life treatin' ya?
Pam: this isn't about me, this is about you and your demise. sure sure, well you know us homeless folk, we just sort of wander from town to town.
Alex: how do you know my name?
Pam: *flipping* so going over your chart, i need to know your name. and your sex. and your location. and your PIN number, what can i do for you today? why'd you come in here today? what for? what condition are you suffering from?
Pedro: Pedro like Cher or Madonna. i like me shoes, mi zapatos. my sex is secret-dungeon. location: the President Residence. um, i have AIDS, remember? i'm here for my monthly T cell count.
Pam: have you been experiencing any unusual stress in your life presently at the moment lately?
Pedro: um, you guys kicked me out of the House!!! REMEMBER!!!?
Pam: want the T shirt this time after the test? it's a novelty, only this office carries it.
Pedro: yeah no fuck the T shirt this is serious. what am i carrying?
Pam: so your T cell count from last time has lowered......but Pedro, remember, don't ever let the numbers dictate how you feel about yourself. remain smiling like when you came in here, no number can tell you how to feel.
Pedro: i already have a psychopath's fake smile so i'm all good, Pammy. well if there is nothing else, vulture adieu...
Pam: surviving relatives?
Alex: hold on! what about next of kin? sorry, bro, this is morbid, but we need to take care of these things while you're still ticking.
Pedro: i bequeath all of my soul and savings to my husband Sean. let him make my medical decisions for me if i'm incapacitated or otherwise on a breathing machine. Sean and only Sean may pull the plug. and i'll be damned if i have to sip peas through a straw the rest of my life, just end me and let me become a martyr. and i WON'T be damned to Hell for my lifestyle!
Alex: no way, Pedro! not Sean! i don't trust him, he's not one of us, he's a convenient interloper who just descended out of nowhere, found out you like black men, and parachute-jumped into your life. it isn't a black thing. it's a legal thing. i mean marriage is not a thing yet. he's still a stranger, a shadow, an outsider, an agitator, again, not a skin-color thing. he's not family. Sean will never have the tight-knit bond that develops between two black-faced-from-coaldust boys thrown into the mean streets of Cuba and told to survive with streetcats. they did a documentary on us, Streetfight, when you were thinking of running. leave all your vital literal life-and-death decisions and your vitals to me. don't you trust my mustache?
Pedro: Alex, Sean someday may save my life. if you let him. he's already saved my life. he's rich i mean, he's the heir to the Stussy fortune, that's gotta account for something. sign over your rights right away and i promise i won't throw you in prison or jail. Sean will continue my work after i become King of the Underworld.
Pam: move it along gentlemen, i have customers.
Pedro: your office hours?
Pam: 9 to 5, the socialist model. socialism is the best. it helped me understand people for the first time. why they do what they do. i couldn't afford medical textbooks.
*crickets* crickets are on the beach. the beach swallowed up by the sea. swimming crickets, no people.
Mickey Jr. is having a secret conversation with Geoffrey the Giraffe in his office. this call is being traced and monitored by Mueller once it tries to get blocked. the two aren't comparing the size of their necks but rather the spots on their backs. and Mickey Jr. wants a free Disney toy. for someone.
Mickey Jr.: THAT'S my giraffe!!!
Mueller: FUCK. i mean really, i've wasted three years of my life on this, and nothing. NOTHING??!! nothing. i could have been on a beach in Miami tanning my New Englander white whale-blubber alabaster skin in New England. i'm too old for this shit!
President Bump: where's the club? the one Bouchard is in.
Pence: um no, that's Klobuchar, sir. in the snow. global warming, eh? *pine needles the Pres*
Bump: i can't be out there in the snow like that. i can't even do rain. i wanted to like Prince but i ended up liking Elton John, Meghan is gonna be the next Diana. yeah, see it's my hair, people will think my golden locks of hair have turned white and i'm an old man, i can't have that. i love that she's talking about the Green New Deal in that weather! remember, folks, all gold is green underneath, trust me, i've scratched.
Jared Goff: to us in California, rain is snow.
Bump: hey, Jared! *puts his arm around him* let me see the ring!
Jared: *shoves him away from his babyfat face* i'm not the Kushner one! i'm the cushy one. i don't want to talk about it, okay? not everyone is lucky like the California Lottery. you mean a diamond ring?
Klobuchar: WE WILL FUCKING WIN!!! how's THAT for Minnesota-nice.
Ocasio in the crowd: YEAH FUCK YEAH LET KYLIE JENNER BE FUCKING KYLIE JENNER, RIGHT? I OWN YAHOO NEWS NOW!!!
the entire lawn on the South end of the Cream House is uprooted violently up which takes the House clear into the clouds, one big brown taproot dangling from the bottom girds. sounds like a volcano erupting upside-down. sonic boom. the fence can't hold it, the entire Cream House is one big giant flying drone with spinning wings!!!
Bump: whoa, vertigo. *on the phone* come on, Jeff, hasn't this gone on long enough? now you said yourself in your autobiography you always wanted to be a circus performer who lived off handouts from street strangers to please your mother. see? i read if it's interesting. i always looked up to you, Jeffy, you were the last American oligarch. besides me. i always envied your hair.
Jeff Bezos: you're like postmodern comedy. the death of outrage that has been blown up again into a blowup doll. a bug whose saliva it spits out in battle is bug spray. i mean i published your bus video in the Post, but there was no reaction. like there were 0 comments under the youtube vid. what is going on?
Bump: hey it's not extortion, it's a negotiation between two rich friends. wait a minute, is blackmail dead now? it is huh, i mean now nobody will ever be threatened again, they'll just self-publish their own naked pictures and artistic nudes online. i constantly see all those teenyboppers on myspace just show everything and not care. they don't care about losing a finger cos they're always giving the middle finger in all of their pics. cos society doesn't give a shit anymore about this sort of thing. rats and their rat asses care more. there is no more modesty, no more embarrassment. today, threats are just the regular comments on a youtube video. there's a gun emoji for Codrus sake!
Bezos: look just get Lauren Sanchez off Fox, okay? and Foxtail Channel. she doesn't need to be under any more of those Fox hot lights. or plastic surgery, that stuff is expensive. did you really think i cared about a marriage?, i have money. and mob-tactics her brother. and for fuck sake no more subscriptions of Mad Magazine in old-timey newsboy bundles to my house, that magazine isn't funny anymore. and no more 50-box cases of Honey Nut Cheerios in the shape of a Happy Meal to my doorstep. i'm too busy to eat cereal!
Bump: bzzz bzzz bzzz bezos. i do the mazes on the back of the cereal box. and i always love it when the yearly glossy of my favorite comic book comes in the mail of my mailbox. you hurt me, Jeff, you hurt me with your words.
Bezos: yeah you just poured honey nut over the magazine. the worst thing you said at your rally was for the mailbomber to use Amazon!
Bump: i would say let's continue our pissing contest but well...…...i use your penis as my contact lens.
Bezos: at least mine works.
Bump: wait, where do i get one of those Superman capes everyone was wearing the other night? you are Lex Luthor after all.
Bezos: those were Superwoman capes. for taskforce-multipliers. YOU can't wear a white cape.
Pecker walks by the residence to find air.
Pecker: turns out, mine was bigger than his. this whole thing was a waste of time and resources. i'll be living in Saud Arabia now, but they've taken away my driver's license…
the crones are at the Chevron Shootout in Obec Woods. not funded by big oil.
Gladyce: dear, this is an environmentally-sound project, keep that in mind.
Doryce: *swinging her club* i love all these miniature-golf-style holes cut into the lawn designed by local schoolchildren and math nerds and the public using Starbucks brown-paper ridged circles. like Rube Goldberg machines that are impossible to hole out! okay, imma lay my naked body down on this soft grass here and i want each of you strapping lads from the local golf college to whack a swing with your driver there. on my butt. let's see if i'm the old slapper everyone says i am. go on, don't be bashful give it a good hard swing...……...yay, hole in hole!
Gladyce, despite her age, notices many white balls sunk to the bottom of the gulch of the golf holes. it's impossible to see below cos the water is all dark blue-green, but she does. and, despite her age, she gets into a skintight wetsuit and large oversize novelty goggles and Flipper-stickered flippers on her calloused toes and dives in full-dive. she cleans up all the balls and saves the gulch, chalks one up for the environment and water justice and the power of pollution-pulverization by one person.
Gladyce: but those weren't golf balls. those were dried balls of cum...
Eye Luggage: Halsey has joined the chat. and the Red Circle table.
Dirg: now i get it. you're black. that explains your ass.
Laertus: uh, upside-down painting, impossible-hard, good job! don't reveal if there was a pencil outline before, retain the magic. this ain't tats.
Dirg: don't feel ashamed, girl, i cheated with outlines, too. when i was five. drawing is harder than painting. you're passing. into the night.
Omar: Rube Goldberg...
Dirg: that Omar. she was so hype to get that SNL sketch about her she started to talk too real.
Laertus: stay strong, Dennis Perkins. you know you're in trouble when your SNL revew suddenly gets 300 comments, that's never a good sign, those aren't gonna be praising comments. you're not too old for the gig, Den, stay woke af. there always seems to be time for people for hate, to hate profusely and with many words. where do people find the time?
Eye Luggage: *mouth and hand in a horn* KIIIIIIRRRRIIIIIIIIIITOOOOOOOO!!!!
Dirg: oh god! god yes! let's dig in. with a Dirg dig.
Laertus: i've never seen a franchise that so ardently divides up the populace, bitterer than the fascism v socialism thing we have going on in this country. those that defend it defend it to the death, those that hate it see it as a stain on all anime. and the fact that it's massively popular make the wounds that much more salty.
Dirg: it's like Teen Titans Go but fun.
Laertus: that's an ongoing raging debate debacle.
Dirg: Sword Art Online is the ultimate expression of finding true love online. of the nerd becoming the overpowered jock and getting the girl with two tits. not that i'd know anything about that or have the poster under my bed. it's how gamers get through Valentine's Day. people base their entire marriages around the day-to-day squabbles of Kirito and Asuna, that couple is so important it's saved more lives than drugs which make you question your reality. they are more than a Hollywood Couple, they are a Video Game Couple.
Laertus: *falls out of his chair* and it seems to weirdly condone and revel in rape. my heart was crestfallen this morning when i heard that pack of pelicans screeching cos of the hellbent hurricane winds we experienced nonstop for hours. so unusual. i hope all the chicks were scooped up and that bird family reunited again and all are safe. i climbed a tree for the first time, a tree in the back of our treehouse yard, and spotted a man hiding on a branch.
Scarface Tony: where's Pedro?
Laertus: *holds his chest* breaks my red heart.
at the House, New Roommate Auditions are being held. the three line up one by one by the bay window and get looked over, but not salaciously or sinisterly the way Pedro did it cos Pedro is gone.
Bunim: okay. Numbah One, why should it be you?
Alex Escarno: i'm not sure, i guess i had a plan before to infiltrate and spy on my cozzin but now that my homie holmes from the home country is gone there's no point.
Cory and Rachel: we think your Tom Selleck mustache is sexy! you're like the Weekend at Bernie's guy if he were alive!
Alex: Tom Selleck, Burt Reynolds, i always get those two confused.
Puck: i'll take it from here thank you, i feel so free, my feet stink leisurely and calmly now that Pedro is gone. Number Two, hehe.
#2: if you were stranded on a desert island, or in this apartment, and you had run out of food and water, which roommate would you eat and why?
two roommates from last season's Real World are intrigued and pop their spiky heads in on the dining room, but this guy is too much dark even for Puck. Judd likes him, though.
Jo: *quietly confident* hello all, my name is Joanna but my friends call me Jo. i've traveled many roads. in my life. and to get here. that's why my last name is Rhodes.
Judd: *salivating, eyes orgasmed back* tell me more about that pickax you're wielding in front of us.
Jo: *looks at the seesaw blade* oh this old thing? it's just some show-and-tell, this is what i use to live my best life, to escape my problems atop a hill so i can shout out my pain to the clouds. to keep my feet moving and my mind nimble, my body energized when my spirit dies. i'm a rockclimber. i'm always climbing high trying to achieve my goals. my mum says my head is in the clouds. and she would be right. i scale when i'm sour and i rope when i'm out of dope. fair-weather warning: i ain't no weekend warrior, i take this bouldering stuff seriously. you want to join me sometime climbing? it'll be a neat bonding experience for the whole cast!
Bunim *touching her back* not crew.
Cory and Rachel: *giggling like sorority sisters* SURE! that sounds like fun! we need something to cheer us up after what we've all been through.
Puck: *flipping pages* sorry i initially referred to you as Ho, that was my fault. i like that when you cry it starts raining inside like a London evening. i have that, too.
Alex: it'll be a STEEP climb, my last name is Escarno.
Jo: great! i'm happy for now, not dour. it doesn't last but whatever. let's get started! i'll meet you guys first thing in the bright and early tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn and the crack of my small little arse in skintight climbing shorts to begin climbing Mount Rushmore.
cast and crew: wait, Mount Rushmore? that's illegal to climb.
Jo: right. it's the perfect way for this Brit to feel more American!
That's what Pablo Escobar said…
You can never see where the palm trees start and the ocean ends because the flat earth people have been sorting that out. They sell tortilla powder back to the cartel who cunningly export it out on the top of pizzas. The pizza delivery guys working for this crew always wear rainbow shirts with a picture of Bowser on the front right-hand pocket. It helps them blend in with the real world. The money is split 70/30 and the flat-earthers use their share to buy irons.
Did you know that all flat-earthers have vertigo? This is indeed a fact and not postmodern comedy. If they have a sudden attack caused by the mirage of a mountain like Mount Rushmore, they have to lie down and breathe through a hole in the golf course and become whole in hole. Grounded.
and El Chapo......Kate del Castillo has no comment on twitter...
Robitussin deserves a lot of praise and credit for that flat-earth commercial, got into that tussle, that fray, it single-handedly reopened the Age of Exploration again, Chris Columbus got out of his grave and began directing. but not on top of pineapple trees. did you know a single tear from Bowser can both cure AIDS and make the Unicorn Frappuccino taste better? no more need for Prep medicine. God's Face is flat, that's why nobody can see it. vertigo is fake news created by Hitchcock, cured by not vaccinating cos that causes autism, it's in all the New England scientific journals: hax on vax. postmodern comedy: you're not allowed to laugh unless you find it strange. use Amazon Ground. love ya, mah dahlin *big kiss* *)
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