The other Friday I woke up with a splitting headache.
There was a ringing one ear and in the left ear was an annoying buzz I had no idea what the hell was happening. I figured this was the effects of the dog meat I ate at the beginning of the year. Something like mad dog decease or another infection of whip worm.
Then as the week went on the pain be came a dull pain and then the buzzing began to become more rhythmic. Not pleasant by any stretch but at least I could tune it out. but at times when I forgot that it was there it would get loud and remind me of it's existence.
Then this Saturday, nearly two weeks later I am at a flea market looking for a bargain. I stopped by a guy’s table to look at ancient fertility statues from Africa. You know the type long skinny African females with big pointy boobs. I was smirking and about to laugh out loud thinking about the poor man statue that has to have sex with this woman. He climbs onto her and dies from a puncture through his heart.
The table next to the nudie statues is a card reader slash psychic. As I turn we make eye contact he burst into tears. WTF! Seriously, huge body racking sobs. This guy is 450 pounds if an ounce and gayer than Boy George. He was wearing an Adam Ant concert shirt.
Anyway, he sobs out loud and clutches his crystal ball and looks into it. And then looks back at me.
“Stop” he says, “You are in need of information.”
“No” I shoot back with pained venom eyes, “You are in need of information and that information is I do not believe in your version of reality.”
“No you have a headache and a chanting in your ears.”
“Ok you got me now, but it is not a chanting.”
“Yes it is, you just do not understand. You have been given a gift, actually two gifts.”
“What he hell are you talking about fat man?”
“Do not be rude.” my wife says.
“Ok” I look at the guy, “What the hell are you talking about queer bait.”
“You have been given two spirit guides and they can not get you to pay attention, you are ignoring them.”
“What the hell are you talking about Twinkie fairy?”
“You have two guides that can connect you to the spirit world. Like John Edwards.”
“Fuck off”
“No seriously, and I am not going to charge you for the names. They are Rajkumar and Izumi Sarkaio. They were given to you so that you may commune with the dead and speak to other celestial beings. They are yelling at you to pay attention.
“That is crap! Commune with the dead? Bullshit! Like I need to talk to the dead? What have they got for me they are dead! ”
And the buzzing got so loud I thought the world had stopped. I spoke their names Rajkumar and Izumi and the buzzing stopped. I lurched forward like when a subway train stops quickly.
The fat physic began to babble about getting in touch with these two and making a change in the world.
I was just glad that the noise stopped and my head no longer hurt.
So you all now see that I have a psychic guides and I am like John Edwards. I can not speak Hindi. I can not speak Japanese so I have no idea what these two nitwits are saying to me.
I just know that when they start screaming I stop the car. I do not know what they are saying but I do not want a meteor or something to slam into my truck. This has made my morning commute to work very, very hard and I have made many, many enemies on the road.
I have developed cravings for Indian food and Sushi and I notice that my clothes are not nearly as red as I would have liked.
I went to buy lotto tickets, but the screaming nearly made me pass out. Two foreign dead people in my head screaming numbers or curses at me in a foreign language is just too much to bare.
My doctor thinks my request for Vicodin and Oxycodone is an addict thing and has prescribed a rehab evaluation. This may not be a bad thing because if my employer lays me off I can say it is because I have a disability and they will have to give me my job back.
But the native tongue thing is pissing me off. If your are going to be in the head of an American you should at least learn to speak American
I wonder if having the foreign spirit guides entitles me to dual citizenship or if I can claim to be another race.
You know I never asked for this thing and under that circumstance you would think that I should be able to turn these two idiots off until they learn to speak my American language.
The future is now
The future is two screaming nut jobs
The future is not knowing the lotto numbers
The future is broadcasted from inside my head
The future is knowing the future in another language.
The future has been out sourced.
 | Currently reading Like A Monkey With A Handgun By Rev. J. Sleestaxx Release date: By 3 December, 2007 |
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