I was recently sorting through some old stuff from high school. Sometime around junior or senior year, it seems I was assigned the task of writing a journal. It appears that every day we were given a subject and a certain amount of time, told to write continually about the subject until time ran out. On most days, you can glean what the subject was meant to be based on my response. Many interesting compositions were formed. This is their story:
(Written on the inside cover)
Fat Farmers with Guns proudly presents…
The Sick Book of Rice
(The menopausal chronicles of Wendy Saffron and her impotent one-legged rhinoceros)
It got approved, for God’s sake, so shut up, you fairy!
Page 1
The advantages of living with friends are easy to think of. Fun, quality time, always having someone to taslk to… It would be fun to have that kind of entertainment. On the other hand, it’s a lot less privacy, and you just may get tired of them.
I like rice, do you? I just thought I’d ask, since I can’t stop writing and all. Spicy yellow rice is very delicious.
Page 2
I don’t have too many rules at home. At school, all the rules are cool, I don’t care. They are what they are. Enough said. That’s all I think about that. So, instead, I’m going to finish my earlier writing about yellow rice.
Mahatma Saffron yellow spicy rice is by far the premium. Unfortunately, its godlike existence can only be found at Wal-Mart. It costs 57 cents per package. This yellow tube of goodness will warm your heart and soul. It is very spicy, though. Regular flavor is bad. Spicy is prime.
Mahatma. The best 57 cents in life.
Page 3
My parents don’t make me do anything because that’s stupid. Occasionally, I’ll have to go to some family dinner or something I don’t want to be a part of, but that’s nothing big. So… Jim!
Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law is a good show. Can you spell uncle? Here’s space:
Wait… crap. That’s not very hard. All you have to do is look at it up there. How dumb am I? Jeez. Ragweed.
So not only had I already started painting, but Joey comes over and calls me fat! I was like sooo mad. Duck.
Page 4
Last night I had some of that wonderful rice I’ve been talking so fondly about. Unfortunately, I burned it. I was on the phone while cooking it and though I didn’t forget about it, I just wasn’t paying much attention. I still ate it and it wasn’t bad, but it was a bit firm. A lot of it got stuck to the bottom of the pot. Usually I would be upset over that because I’d have to clean it, but I was on my way to work so I just left it for my dear sweet mother to clean. She loves it. Scraping baked rice off the bottom of a pot is an extraordinary pastime.
Page 5
Being successful, to me, means eating three packets of Mahatma Saffron spicy yellow rice every day. Nothing could warm you up like a hearty bowl of Mahatma. Sure, if you ate 3 packs a day you’d become really fat, but hey, it’s tasty! Don’t burn it though. That’s gross.
“Syme sat up. “Here comes Parsons,” he said.” – direct quote from George Orwell’s novel 1984.
Page 6
If school uniforms were made out of Mahatma yellow spicy rice, it would be a fantastic idea to have them. They would be a ravishing color, have a delicious flavor and a comforting texture. We could follow Bart Simpson and eat our shorts if we got hungry. Only Mahatma clothes would be acceptable, though. Also, the whole head-to-toe outfit would cost like five bucks. That’s the shizzle, Roger!
Nouns: Bank, guns, car, hat, marker, fan
Verbs: Poke, jog, sit, color, fish, travel, spit
Left foot problems? No worries! Just buy a jar of amniotic fluid and pour it all over your foot. Presto, c’est magnifique!
Page 7
The biggest problem in the world today is that not everyone has some Mahatma yellow spicy rice. If we could provide everyone with a warm, savory bowl of that euphoric goodness, I’m sure all hatred would end. Back during the Berlin Airlift, they dropped boxes of it to show the goodness of humanity. Winston Churchill and all world leaders would eat it during their WWII meetings. Adolf Hitler didn’t kill himself because the German empire was being crushed, but because he ran out of Mahatma. The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor because we wouldn’t share our rice.
Jose!
Page 8
I would spend a million dollars on buying every package of Mahatma Rice that exists in the world. Man, I’d be swimming in saffron flavor. It’d be so nice to be all cozy in beds of Mahatma with sheets of Mahatma and dreams of Mahatma Gandhi eating Mahatma rice. Either that, or I’d buy a McLaren F1. Especially if they made it out of rice.
Cats are sharp.
*Touches cat*
Ow! How elite!
Offer me a cookie and I shall accept it. Thank you. – Your Mother
Page 9
My dream home would be a house constructed entirely of rice. Not just any rice – Mahatma yellow spicy rice. Fork! Bread! Loss of hair!
Pen must not stop moving… I want a rat in a hat named San Dingles. Do you know anything about Kenny G?
I went to a Mannheim Steamroller concert last year. That was pretty interesting. You should go to one. YOU should. You almond-eating bridge player.
Page 10
Three minutes! I have to write for THREE rustic minutes?! If I only had three packages of Mahatma rice, I’d be up shit creek! Conversely, if I had to pour iced tea on people’s bobblehead Jay Z dolls for a living, I’d be all set. Oh, by the way, 20 years from now, I’ll have cancer of the rice. My Mahatma body will be sad.
Sidewalk Chalk (12 pcs): $1.89
6 inch scar on my right butt cheek
6 inch scar on my left butt cheek
Ice cream cones for legs
Man, Michican does rock!
-Connor, 2002
Page 11
I have three best friends. But my best friend of all is Mahatma yellow rice. Trent Reznor’s ballsack.
LGOAESC: A new branch of the government.
“Legislature for the Government of Orthodoxy Associated with Economic Social Communication
or
Let’s Go Outside and Eat Some Corn
BAROQUE BEATLES!
…close to Mahatma in heavenly status, but a hair short.
Page 12
I would eat dinner with Mahatma Gandhi. Why? His first name is the same as spicy yellow rice. What more reason do I need? I hear he was an alright guy, too.
Or maybe I’d eat with Danny DeVito because he is a great man. That and I’d like to make fun of him because he’s small and short. Bleed.
Jaleel White is also a possibility. I could ask him why he ruined his life by being Steve Urkle. Never will he be regarded as anyone else. He really put the ruler up his own bum with that one. Oh well. 5 Goats.
Topic: Toothpaste
“Randy Drinks Pee, Vol. 1″
Danny and Randy walked through the Uni-Mart wearing do-rags and humming Christmas songs. They sexually molested a bag of Fritos and defecated on the shelf.
Page 13
I would choose Rice.
Page 14
Otis Spunkmeyer cookies.
Well, there is one advantage to being male – you can be called “Gay” if you are gay. If you are a girl, you can be called “Lesbian.” Guys don’t have to deal with monthly blood. Girls can eat more spicy yellow Mahatma rice. Guys can appreciate the sound of a mandolin more. Girls smell better. Girls don’t have to poop. Guys can pee outside.
Look at the rhymes, comin at ya from behind! Trip!
So many times I have considered myself black. I think it’s because I’m so fat, so fat, so fat.
My dad is a man. Your dad is fat. Last week I ate an old graham cracker. It was soft. Tasted like Bob Dole’s mom.
Page 15
The cafeteria would sell only Mahatma spicy yellow rice. That would make me incredibly happy. I would also carpet all the rooms and the halls and line the floors in peppermint patties. I would also have pictures of the Muppets all over the place. They are cute, like bleeding gophers.
I’m white. I don’t know if anyone told you, but the facts are out. Fall asleep. Now. Do it. Shut up.
Page 16
I think as soon as they can cook their own Mahatma rice, people should be considered adults. This should average out to around 7 years old. You ghost. Oh, you ghostly ghost.
Lufitueb, Lusitania and Left – the Three L’s of Northern Normandy.
You are not the first to cross this way, nor will you be the last.
Bleed in my tacos or I’ll forcefeed you almonds!
Alexchiu.com – where all your dreams come chiu!
Page 17
The school would sell bowls of Mahatma rice for 40 cents every day if I was in charge of the cafeteria. That and we’d have SpongeBob shaped tator tots.
We’re listening to Yanni again. His music makes me have to poop.
Encore du riz.
Page 18
Mahatma rice is darn good. I went to WalMart to buy some last week, but they were out. I was mad. I pooped my pants a little.
Carlos was a baker. A naked baker. His store was called the Nakey Bakey. He sold baked goods that contained various innuendos. Now, this pornographic baker went out of business because he bled on a fire hydrant, his mom thought he was gay, and he was stoned by Hatians with purple mullet wigs. Connor buried him in Poncho Villa’s back yard. Nakey Bakey’s memory will live on because Connor has his name and nutbag tattooed on his bum.
Footlong hot dogs do stuff.
Page 19
I like tacos! Yay! My name is Billy and I am four years old. My daddy bought me a mandolin for my birthday. Thank you daddy. I like you. Luv, Billy.
PS – Peepee
Page 20
Cornbread – ain’t nothin wrong with that!
Page 21
HUGE CLOTHES! Nobody understands the inner workings of Danny Glover’s mind like I do. I’m a wizard when it comes to that.
Furthermore, sandpaper is a horrible alternative to cheese on hamburgers. It’s just awful.
Unlike stripping yourself naked and wrestling in a 600 gallon bowl of Mahatma spicy yellow rice. That’d be real neat, feet.
Page 22
I would want to make a field trip to the Mahatma rice factory. It would be educational to see the creation of a superb rice product that is so phat.
“Left arm,” said the onion.
“Bow tie,” said the carrot.
“Scramble tiiiiiiiime!” exclaimed the eggs.
…and hence they scrambled.
So like I said, let’s do that rice field trip thing. It’d be rad. We could find out the top secret Mahatma secret ingredients.
Oh God, that’d be euphoric. Gary, get my inhaler, I’m goin in!
Page 23
Today, a poem for you, because the past sucks:
Pork.
Randy the gerbil hat a car.
Far from Tony, spin.
Connor, hates.
Never send a trance.
Forward in cancer endings.
So much paper.
Bigotry of aardvarks.
Sausage McFan.
Page 24
The time when I ate Mahatma spicy rice was my favorite memory of all time. Either that or the time when I killed Connor. That was a blast.
DUCT TAPE FOREVER!
starring Red Green
I really like ham, too. It’s excellent. I went bowling like 20 times last week. I suck. I get by with a little help from my boobs.
Today’s word: Imputation.
Nip.
Page 25
No.
About whatever I’d like.
About whatever I’d like.
About whatever I’d like.
These are not my pants.
Thriller!
Pat Sajak and Vanna White welcome you to The Chamber of Secrets. Here you will meet the Lord of the Rings and listen to Steely Dan. Connor the aardvark will take you to Devourment.com and the Nestle factory. These are Made From the Best Stuff on Earth.
Page 26
Hades had one killer cape on in that picture. I guess that’s what you get when you’re the god of the underworld. Hmph.
*considers the profession*
