I am Known as Schizo Scattershot and my Power is Bullshit

The other day I was eating out at the local Chinese buffet. Why? Well, sometimes you want to be where everyone knows your name. Come to think of it, the fact that they know me is a good indication that I should stop going so often. Still, it's the only place I can go and feel thin.

Plus, it provides an excellent place to think. For instance, all the roads nearby have names like "Tomahawk" and "Little Bear." Except of course of "Mancini" street or that private residence with the enormous sign proudly proclaiming the presence of the pervasive and perfidious Lupinacci crime family. I have no choice but to assume that the town with one of my beloved buffets is the first and perhaps last refuge of the Italian Indian. Pardon me, Italian Native American. Can't you just see it?

You'd walk into a teepee and your friend would be sitting cross legged. He'd say "Buongiorno kimasabi. I was just preparing some Buffalo al forno with an antepasto of pepperencini and maize. Later I can show you how to string a bow with angel hair and we can go hunting for wild meatballs."

I dunno. I was amused. If it strikes you as racist...oh wells. I suppose it is, but then again, prejudice preys upon the thin skin of cry babies. It's like how you can't blackmail me by threatening to expose that I'm an asshole. That's totally obvious. And it's not like there is some evil master plan to it. Almost the other way around even. Then again, maybe my solution interpersonal conflict is skewed on account of being a serious nerd. Afterall, if there's anything that defines the modern nerd more than unusual hobbies, social inteptitude, obsession over trivial nonsense, and an iconoclastic image (as if we had a choice after all that) it would have to be our tendency towards bizarre and frequently sophmoric humor that considers nothing sacred- least of all ourselves, friends and shared nerd culture. As an example (NSFW for Language):



Starting next week, I'll be posting pages from a story I wrote a couple years ago called Night of the Living Debt. Originally, I wrote it as a sample to toss at two dudes named John as they performed on stage to convince them to give me the thumbs up to write a short story collection tentatively titled "Gigantism: The Impossible Dream" but I pussed out. And so my awesome idea has been left thoroughly unexploited.