Gary Coleman is just another of my recently deceased friends. When he came over to This Side of the Veil, he sent me a text message that he'll be over to the house this morning for breakfast, which is always about 6 am so I can get to work on time. I have a day job at a Fortune Cookie factory, writing fortunes on little pieces of paper.
Gary says he's a little pissed at Shannon Price for consuming all the bacon last time they were here, but what the hell, Shannon's been like that ever since Gary turned down that used car salesman job after Diff'rent Strokes got flushed down the toilet by the network.
"All she cares about is the money," Gary told me when we were sitting around the breakfast table a week ago last Sunday. "What I really want to do is visit the planet Saturn...I hate Madison Wisconsin." I have to agree with Gary on this one, having been there once myself in a wicked thunderstorm back in June of 1957.
"What are all these rumors about my death?" Gary texted me. "IDK" I texted back. "IGGP", he replied, and went AFK for a couple minutes. "PLOTKA" he texted when he got back on. I laughed, and replied, "RUS?"..."TTTHFAL" and we clocked off. I'll ask him exactly what he meant over breakfast tomorrow, but I doubt I'll actually get the point. I prolly would dig it, but we don't talk over breakfast, we sit there, stare at each other and text at the table. Well, (ISH) "ILICISCOMK" and now, "IOH" ima play a bit of Team Fortress 2 before I go totally AFK.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment