Dry Cleaning and Our Draconian Overloads

I arose dewy fresh and completely hydrated at 5:00 AM, when the little dear, Lizzie hopped on my bed and gently licked my face. Fully awake and full of the joy of life (or as the French say “joie de vie!), I quickly fed the little darling, brewed a perfect pot of coffee…sensually stirred in my “imitation hazel nut soy protein non-dairy creamer” du jour…and sat down to check my text messages.

Yes, the sky was turning a pale shade of della robbia blue…birds were starting to chirp (well, crows craw and the humming birds hum around you – actually they are very territorial, mean little fuckers, but never mind). I had received a prior text from my dry cleaner that certain items were ready to be picked up. After a few sips of my recently chemically enhanced coffee, I sent the following:

Me: I’ll pick up the sports coat and shirts at 2:00 today.

Another sip of coffee, another breath of that crisp Salton See air! I received the following response:

“2:00 will be fine. But I’m sure you are aware that two hours and zero seconds spells out 2-0 the first two letters of 2020. Redditt bulletin boards users firmly believe that the end of the earth will happen exactly 2020 days after the assumption into heaven of our great lord, Hajlama, from whom all is good and right in the world. And not at all like the dark overlord Gjrtplkmbd for whom the damned writhe in perpetual nausea. Oh hall to our ever-lactating Lord, Hajlama, and his earthly messenger, Mike Hunt. Oh shout his name aloud and proudly, “Mike Hunt! Mike Hunt! MIKE HUNT!!!” Without their guidance we never should have known the hidden meanings of the ancient scriptures, cleverly hidden by big business, as the ingredients of the foods we consume! Praise be to Mike Hunt - scream his name again, oh ye chosen ones! “Mike Hunt! Mike Hunt! MIKE HUNT!!!” Without his myopic vision, we never would have cracked the code to those ancient messages from The Great Oracle of the Flatulent One, the Mighty Grand Lipidia "Tiffany" Sonaster.

Gather, oh My Syndicated Children and listen to the wisdom passed down from the time of the transmogrification of the dislocated ones, from the hallowed caverns of the celestial droppings of the fumigated congealed twin beacons of lost jojo-ed luggage. All hail to you and may your fecal prodigy be blest with the sacred opaled brand of the all-knowing sludgepot. And you pizza-ridden pisshags tremble and be wary! Oh Cross over children. All are welcome. All welcome. Go into the Light. There is peace and serenity in the Light ….This is life's ultimate cruelty. It offers us a taste of youth and vitality, and then it makes us witness our own decay….NOW, a Warning?!... They drummed you out of Hollywood, so you come crawling back to Broadway. But Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope. Now get out of my way, I've got a man waiting for me….listen oh withered one….to the final truth: SOYLET GREEN IS PEOPLE! Noma..keepish…ala hpait nolishit jone gresha…I am Vinz, Vinz Clortho, Keymaster of Gozer. Volguus Zildrohar, Lord of the Sebouillia. Are you the Gatekeeper?....There is no Dana, ONLY ZUUL!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: So would 2:30 be better?

Another sip of pharmaceutical brand soy imitation hazelnut flavored cream enhanced non-vegan tofu infused carcinogenic. What a gorgeous morning.