Hola, amigos. What’s goin’ on? I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya, but it’s like life keeps raining shit down on me and I don’t have a shit shovel big enough to clear it all away. My ride is giving me grief. The muffler is coming loose, so it’s making a lot of noise. The car might sound badass if it were, like, a Thunderbird or something. But it’s a Festiva, so it sounds like a souped-up lawn mower. I took a tin can and some muffler tape and patched the pipe up, but my repair job isn’t going to last for long.
Then, I forgot to pay my electric bill. It was only two months late, but the assholes shut my power off anyway. I meant to pay the bill, but I had a lot on my mind. Getting my power cut sucked, because I had microwave burritos in the freezer, five of which I had to throw away. And I’d rented Jeepers Creepers 2. I tried to tell the clerk at the video store that I should get my money back because I hadn’t watched the movie, but he was a total dick about the whole thing. He didn’t believe me that I didn’t have power, and acted like I was just trying to get a free movie rental. Like I’d be that desperate.
Anyway, I didn’t get my money back, so I went home and ate a half-frozen burrito in the dark. Then I crashed early. I thought I’d at least catch up on sleep, but I had the weirdest dreams. I was living in a mountain cave, and there were these trays of cookies everywhere. It was my job to make sure that none of the cookies were eaten by spiders. I woke up at, like, 4 a.m. and just sat in the dark and waited for the sun to rise.
I called the electric company in the morning, and they told me they’d turn my power back on as soon as I paid the balance, plus a $100 deposit. I said that I wasn’t made of money and that someone over there owed me for my burritos and the video rental. Well, they basically said, “No deposit, no electricity.” That’s what’s wrong in America today: Big corporations don’t care about the little guy.
My power problem got me thinking that I need to be one of those guys who makes the money, instead of shelling it out all the time. I’m not sure how my plan’s gonna go down, though. I suppose if I stuck with my job at the carbonics plant and didn’t lose a finger, I could be promoted to assistant manager, like Ron. But that would take three years, and if I’m gonna be stuck there for that long, I may as well just suck on a tailpipe and end it all.
There’s gotta be an easier way. I could make money selling weed, but the last time I did that, I was getting calls at, like, 4:00 in the morning. Then they’d only want to buy an eighth. Besides, I always ended up smoking up most of my profits.
You know what seems to be the way to go? Computers. Everything is on computers these days. When I go to the auto-parts store, they check their computer to see if they have the part I need. People are always talking on e-mail instead of calling people up. Even the cops got computers to check your priors when they pull you over. Shit, if you’re reading this, the odds are you’re on a computer instead of kicking back with a newspaper.
Wes has been getting a lot of jobs where he works on computers, and he seems to be doing okay. Since computers looked like my best bet, I called up one of those colleges with commercials on daytime TV. The woman on the phone talked to me for a long time, and she thought getting into computers was a really good idea for me, too. But then she started telling me about the shitload of money it costs to go to the school. It just goes to show, you gotta have money to make money.
Without money, the only thing I got is my mind. Everyone who knows me knows I’m always getting all sorts of great, crazy ideas. I had this one idea for a mop, once. But I figure the best way to use my ideas is to write a movie. How hard could it be? I have this one idea about a cop who’s about to get thrown off the force, because he plays by his own rules. Only, a case falls into his lap that he can’t turn his back on. See, this particular cop is a decent guy, even if he is a cop. The case involves the mob, so the cop goes undercover to fix the bad guys good. But then his old partner finds out about it.
Well, I sat down to write the movie. I started out by writing down a killer opening, with these hot chicks, an explosion, and the cop turning in his badge. But then, I couldn’t figure out what would happen after the cop’s old partner enters the picture. I smoked a bowl for inspiration, but nothing came. Long story short, I had to put the movie-writing on the back burner until I get a new idea.
Anyway, I can feel that something is right around the corner. In the meantime, I suppose I’ll pick up some overtime at work to get that $100 deposit together. Whatever. I ain’t going to be wasting away in this shithole apartment all my life. I mean, it’s not like I want a million dollars. I just want enough for a boat. That’s not too much to ask. Once I get a boat, I can live on that and everyone else can go fuck themselves. Well, until I need to buy gas.
Jim Anchower joined The Onion’s editorial writing staff in 1993 after several distinguished years on The Come Back Inn dishwashing staff. He comments on community-affairs, automotive, and employment issues. He attended LaFollette High School in Madison, WI.
