Yeah he hasn’t been on the level in some time. “Wait, has he ever been on the level?” Whoa, you’re right. You’re so right it burns! Oww. It hurts. Your truth stings. But it also sings. I mean, yeah, of course, as long as I’ve known him (4 years), Vim, Bill, whatever he’s calling himself these days, yeah he’s never been completely on any level whatsoever. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you asked him, “Hey Vimmy, been on the level lately?” and he answered, “Wha you talking about? Gimme a cookie,” or some sorry shite like that. “I’m too busy solving Sudoku puzzles.” Vimmy get a job, get one quick, please.
Cookies, people, can mean the deaths of millions. Write it down. Either you’re choking on them or they’re choking on you. Write it the shit down! Seriously. Get some paper. Find a pen that works. Yeah that one should be fine. Write it down in your little notebook, memorize it, tear out the sheet of paper, eat it, then forget everything you learned cause it won’t help you in the real world.
Dammit I once ate an entire bag of sprinkles then threw myself on purpose down a flight of stairs. You wanna know why? Cause I was pissed off. Oh I was fuming from head to toe. Wanna know why? I hate to be weak. Hate it. Cause weakness leads to death which leads to horse-gambling. Write it down dammit. Why do you think I’m talking here, for my health? That’s laughable. No. This is for you. You need it. You’re the weak one. I couldn’t be healthier. Heart disease? HA. I laugh at heart disease. I poke heart disease in the eye, push him to the ground, pour apple juice on his fat face. HA. But he knows I’m only kidding around. Heart disease and I go way back. Dammit, Vim, seriously, if you’re using a Sharpie in my new Snakes-On-A-Sudoku book I’m gonna come over there and slash your throat. WHAT! It is Sharpie! Give me the book! Give it to me! Let go! Let, good, there! You can have it back when you’re back on the level, which will hopefully be during this century sometime.
That was funny, write it down!