BEAR 21... The Story of a Man and Her UmbrellaSection 1: The First 6 Days of Terror
Section 2: In One Day Your Whole Life Can Change
Section 3: Dangerous Love
Section 4: The Tragic Demise of Some Loser
Section 5: This Life Already Happened*
Section 6: Prophecy 14
Section 7: The Present That Already Happened Holds Enormous Implications for a Future That Might Not Exist
Section 8: The Yellow Pearl is Upon Us Now, We Must Fight Back
SECTION II: In One Day Your Whole Life Can Change; Two Days Can Change the World
My mother informed me that she would be arriving in the early afternoon. I went about my business as usual, took a bag of garbage out to the dumpster, and there it was. One of the neighbors had set two relatively decent tables and a usable chair outside by the trash. Just like that, I suddenly had some furniture.
I hauled one of the tables into my room, cleaned it off, and by the graces of Sam Peckinpah, I now had a place to put my computer. In the process of repeating the same routine with the awe inspiring second table, the previous owner came out to declare there was more. Luckily, it was somebody who I had recently befriended named Jeremiah. He was an all right guy, constantly trying to get me to smoke a bowl with him, and worked at a place in which I recently had an interview (and a 2nd interview) but was not given the job. (He informed me that I wasn’t hired because the owner only hires "hot chicks" (interview #1 was conducted with his wife and she wanted to hire me) and for me not to take it personally.)(This had become a recurring theme and I was growing irate with this system of hiring.)
In what proved to be a life altering mission, I now had one chair and three whole tables. This meant a major portion of my belongings was no longer dangerously scattered across the floor; my own bedroom was no longer at risk of being shut down by the Fire Marshall. And, it came just in time… just in case my mother wanted to see my place, she would not know that I have been living like an impoverished rat.
Much to my pleasure, my mom was accompanied with my Aunt Gin… AKA, my 2nd mom. There were some things I had planned, that we had planned beforehand, and then some alterations. It was a day I had been looking forward to and vowed to temporarily dismiss any negative aspects of the bear and the financial struggles associated with working at Bowls Department Store. I was hoping for a wonderful day, one because I love my mom, and two, she was the only member of my immediate family who did not express complete abhorrence about a memoir I had previously written.
Ideally, they would never have known anything about how displeased I am with my current job situation. Instead, I tried to remain focused on all of the positive aspects that have happened since moving back to Asheville. I spoke briefly of all the new friends that I had made, touched on some upcoming projects in my plans, and hoped they would do most of the talking by catching me up on all of the events happening in Cincinnati, Ohio.
Unfortunately, when they informed me that Tim was meeting us tomorrow, I accidentally revealed that I had to borrow money from him recently in order to pay the rent. First, I attempted to devoid the situation and related how I had finally repaid the $230 debt that had been outstanding for over two years. Jen came to visit, we had a nice visit, I even met her boyfriend, and all was officially well... "Jen said to tell you 'Hi' by the way." But, like parents do, they delved deeper and realized that I might not be enjoying quite the prosperity as I claimed.
It was embarrassing for me, and my mom seemed a bit displeased. Furthermore, Ginny commented that I was living like a college student… which is unacceptable for somebody who had graduated college. Therefore, like the gracious people they are, they offered assistance. We went to Bowls Department Store on my day off and my Aunt purchased my new shoes and a few other items that I needed; then they bought me a couple weeks worth of groceries. I generally do not like to receive charity donations because I strive for independence, but I suppose I had to suck up my pride and accept the fact that this was extremely beneficial. My Mom and my Aunt Gin have repeatedly bailed me out of crucial situations and I am forever grateful. Someday, I will host a grandiose ceremony in their honor.
The day went by extremely fast and we had yet another wonderful visit. It went by too fast actually as we did not do anything we had initially set out to do. We got to talking and next thing we knew it was going on 11:00. All of us agreed that it was just nice to be with each other talking, laughing, and having fun… albeit some of it at my expense.
Ginny asked me about this bear, and I elaborated some of the details. These were the sorts of outlandish horrors that people often take for granted until they embark on the horrific situation in which any slight mistake could result in the mutilation of the soul that would wreak havoc on every single Thanksgiving Dinner and family gathering from now until the time the Milky Way crashes into Andromeda and the ensuing disaster results in the entire Universe being viciously mauled by the one and only bear that survived The Nuclear Holocaust which disintegrated the atmosphere of Earth and transformed the watery blue planet into yet another worthless gas giant littering this particular Solar System.
On this day, I chose not to be concerned with the bear. However, I had to at least ponder any notion that it could strike at any moment and I did not wish to risk the well being of my family. The $5 stick umbrella served as our only protection, and I was extremely cautious during our walking ventures that they remained close by just in case the bear had planned an ambush.
Should a person’s whole life change for two days straight, the pending results may be considered drastic. This was yet another day filled with planned events. Wake up early, have lunch with my brother and his family, go to work, walk home, and then the One Year Anniversary at Tiger Mountain. One remark, however, held far more implications than merely finding a piece of furniture.
“I want you to have furniture,” said the salesman. “Furniture is the ideal product to be financially in debt; it allows you to be lazy—and not go out anymore. You don’t want to go out every night at the bars anyway, ain’t nothing there but a bunch of deadbeats. Let’s face it, nobody’s exactly thrilled to see you people enter anywhere. Most people roll their eyes the moment you walk through that front door—and all you’re ever going to sit with, at the same table as before, are the same damn people you sit with every night. Nobody wants to meet you. When it’s all said and done, and you’re wondering where exactly the money was spent—it will have all been for nothing; you wasted hundreds of dollars just to sit in a place where nobody could stand looking at you.
But—if you had furniture, you could stay home… and invite people over to your house. People will suddenly like you, because you have furniture—they will compliment how nice the furniture is. Why, you’ll be a modern day super star. And, you’ll be saving everybody money—because they can hang out at your house instead of wasting time at the bar around those deadbeats. I want you to have this couch, this sofa, this chair!, this table, and this dinette set. Come on, let’s go fill out the paper work.”
Those people, their lives changed drastically by merely getting approved for credit and now they have furniture. There’s a group of people that nobody in town ever sees because they hang out at their house with their furniture. To some degree, the credit application changed the entire world. But, for those of us who failed to repay our student loans, the sales people do not want us to have anything… we have to go to further extremes to induce any change in our life.
I had been plotting what actions needed to be taken. Throughout all this soul searching, the constant question was: “What had I been doing wrong?”
Never, did I blame the rest of society (The definition of never equals: for the most part, barring a few exceptions) and I constantly put the blame on myself (The definition of constantly equals: More than 90% of the time in which the situation had risen, even if the situation represents less than 20% of actual life). I had tried several various attempts at everything to initiate success (The definition of everything equals: Qualities that are moderately rational as it pertains to my individual persona, and/or, shit that I actually felt like fucking with while completely disregarding elements that would be too great of a hassle.) And in one day, the solution unfolded.
My mom woke me up earlier than I expected and we toured the Botanical Gardens and visited a few other scenic sights not listed in the tour guide of Top 50 Asheville Attractions. There was some discussion about white people now being a minority in the world and I told them that made me happy… and they should embrace it. They simply rolled their eyes at me the way crackers often do in this situation.
We had lunch at Luella’s and were joined by Tim, Caroline, and the kids. Once again, we had another nice visit, which also consisted of them enjoying laughs at my expense. Alyssa declared that “I was so fun to pick on”; the fact that she could hula-hoop effortlessly in contrast to the fact that I looked like an imbecile did not help matters. Another revelation prevailed as it occurred to me that fine, responsible, upstanding, quality citizens are not ridiculed by their 10 year old nieces—its in the fact the opposite.
Tim and Caroline told me not to sweat the money I owed them temporarily. I informed them that I had some upcoming interviews and was looking for a job on a daily basis. Also, I told them about the Vinnie’s incident and related how I was not getting hired at places because I was not an attractive woman. This was an issue that I was having. … And just as I had previously told them, Ginny declared that I needed to just embrace it.
She was right and I needed to heed my own advice. This would take some adjustments and something I would ultimately consider. By the way, this was that one statement that changed my life. Soon, I would no longer be living life at the helms of the pushy furniture salesman. No, it would be me selling him furniture, it would be wowing audiences with my hula-hooping abilities, I would be the one holding the press conference, the paparazzi would be following me and not some weirdo bear from some part of the woods where all the other Bowls Department Store shoppers live in decorative huts.
The entire day at work, I pondered how I needed to simply embrace the fact that hot babes were landing all of the good bartender jobs. Perhaps I needed to get a “man’s job.” But what? I am a shitty mechanic and the thought of me using power tools induces nightmares. I thought of every potential manly job that I could possibly do and thought that maybe I had to relinquish any notion of ever being a bartender again. Or…
I am perhaps the only white male on Earth whose voice of reason is an older black man. Therefore, I decided to create a new voice of reason to coincide with my existing voice of reason, and for me to embrace the reality of the situation at hand. My new voice of reason shall by an extraordinarily hot white girl. Fuck it, the old voice of reason probably needed to get laid anyway. I was a little disappointed with myself for not thinking of this sooner.
The transition would not be immediate, although I gave myself a time table in which to fully adopt the policies of hot babes within my own mind. I was certain that I would be a hot white girl soon enough and that would be the moment in which my whole life changed. Furthermore, nobody ever hears about white chicks being eaten by random bears.
While I was at work, I remained relatively quiet as I was attempting to create a renewed modified version of myself.
I was going through a checklist as I was entering the characteristics into the system in order to create the new persona. After all the information was added into my mental data base, the system was processing and I was eagerly awaiting an all new voice in my head. This was going to be the best day ev-errr!
“What would a pretty white girl think?”
I was going through a checklist as I was entering the characteristics into the system in order to create the new persona. After all the information was added into my mental data base, the system was processing and I was eagerly awaiting an all new voice in my head. This was going to be the best day ev-errr!
I had been assigned to fold children’s clothes—a task I genuinely loathe. This arduous painstaking task is made significantly worse due to the fact that small children often lose their damn minds in this store. No child has ever made it in and out of this store without throwing a tirade, a tantrum, and screaming loudly about nothing. I have often theorized that there must be some sort of mechanism in the store's security system which triggers some sort of severe reaction that makes children scream, shout, and crash shopping carts into various product displays. Most of the children that enter this store, for all practical purposes, need to be placed in one of the wicker baskets sold in Home Goods and sent floating down the nearby Swannanoa River. All of this is further heightened with the equally annoying sounds of the singing voices of Katy Perry, Kelly Clarkson, and Taylor Swift on repeat each and every single day.
Before I witnessed Batman being slaughtered by the mysterious bear, I was certain that the cause of my death was going to be S.H.E. due to prolonged exposure to shitty music. (S.H.E. is the medical term which stands for Sudden Head Explosion). Due to the fact that there are 2.5 good songs (with only one being genuinely good, "Up Up Up" by Givers) on the store’s limited playlist, one good line in an otherwise shitty song, and maybe 2 or 3 others that are moderately tolerable, I have been questioning whether or not the death by S.H.E. would be the result of the music or these God damn screaming ass kids.
Several of these old people in this store are absolutely nerve wrecking as well. Many of these mother fucking assholes do not even live in Asheville and are southern as a mother fucker and say southern ass mother fucker lines in ordinary conversation; such as “bless your heart.” They also refer to each other as “honey” and “darling” and other fucked forms of communication in which a man of my stature would be charged with sexual harassment if I ever called anybody this God damn shit. For all practical purposes, considering the way they act coupled with their disregard for common tidiness, the elderly people who enter this store need to be placed in a zoo.
I had been folding children’s clothes for over an hour, in a state of disarray from the bad music and constant cyring, all the while collecting data from the hot sexy middle-aged babes with poor parenting skills who were about to be jacked offed to with intentions of never having to see their fine ass sorry asses again, when all of sudden something changed. I held up one of the toddler’s shirts, examined it, and a mysterious voice in my head declared, “Oh my God, this is too cute!”
The white girl had officially been successfully implemented in my own mind. This was the day in which the whole world would change… although I was not sure who exactly I would be jerking off too later that night. Maybe her, the voice in my head… if she’s that attractive. But no, I just created her, I wasn't ready for her to disappear as of yet.
She took over quickly. I was delegated to pick shit up off the floor in the women’s clearance section and that’s when the changes began taking its’ effect. While I was supposed to be working, I found myself examining the selection of clothes in Misses Updated. Rather than pick the merchandise up off the floor, I was browsing through the clothes deciding which items I would like to purchase. I would remove a dress from the rack and hold it up to myself declaring how wonderful I would look… and then simply toss the dress on the floor like the other white bitches who shop there.
I found myself standing in front of the mirror modeling a Simply Vera dress, turning sideways to see how hot my ass would look while wearing it, when my old voice reason finally returned. “Mother fucker, we’re working! If somebody sees us here doing this shit with this dress, we are fucking fired!” Reality quickly returned as the moment of clarity made me realize that I was still at Bowls Department Store, a man, working, and there were people standing around me monitoring my odd behavior—scoping out my name badge. The good news, once I realized what I was doing, I hastily went back to work and completed my tasks in record time.
It is amazing how quickly I am able to completely forget about work the moment I leave the building. Unlike the other night, in which I violated one of my personal moral standards and thought about Carrie the entire walk home, this night I was focused on what I considered my actual life. First, however, I had to ensure that I arrived to the Tiger Mountain Anniversary Event alive… without being eaten by a bear. My voice of reason (the original one, the hot white girl had apparently gone to bed) reminded us to remain focused on the present task at hand… any distractions could lead to an abrupt gruesome death.
Generally I felt safe carrying my $5 stick umbrella, but tonight I feared that it might not have the powers that I once presumed. The silent darkness of Swannanoa River Road was terrifying and I feared that the bear could approach from either side.
In this case, the bear was on the other side of the street, drinking water out of the river. When I saw the faint shadow in the darkened distance, I was unsure if it was the bear or this lady who had come into Bowls Department Store and purchased a Crack & Barrel bathing suit. The two of them did have similar body types and hair style, and I had temporarily assumed that the woman had purchased the bathing suit in order to swim in the Swannanoa River this late at night. "Fuck it," was my immediate reaction, old people do some crazy ass shit these days. It’s not like those days when they would sit around and sew. No, this is these days, and these days, old people are extremely fucked up due to advancements in medication coupled with the fact that an 80 year old woman could have potentially attended a Velvet Underground concert when she was in her early 30’s.
This woman probably had never even heard of The Velvet Underground. Her monkey ass was probably still listening to the Mamas & Papas when 1967 rolled around. In fact, I allowed myself to become so distraught considering the shitty music that she likely enjoyed instead of The Velvet Underground & Captain Beefheart that I was actually relieved when I realized the dark shadowy figure was the bear.
There was no immediate need to panic because there was a guard rail in-between us and another lane; even though my side of the road was a steep deeply wooded terrain that would be an impossible, impassable means of escape. But once the bear stared me down and began climbing over the guard rail, I knew that I had to react fast—quick/rational reactions are not easy when faced with the frightening sight of an enormous bear climbing over a guard rail.
Fortunately, the bear was not extremely graceful toppling the guard rail. Also, a truck was coming from that direction which meant that would further stall the bear and temporarily block its’ view while it passed. The moment the truck went by, I dashed away as quickly as I could. It served as a decent distraction because when the bear initially chased after me, it ran in the opposite direction and required a few moments to discover the direction in which I was running.
There was no way that I was stopping. As I darted past the U-Haul dealership, there was a family in the parking lot who were late returning their moving truck.
“Bear! Bear! Run!” I yelled as I sprinted by them.
With an angry bear chasing after me, the family of obvious non-Ashevillians utilized this as the perfect moment to stand in the bear’s path and attempt to take photographs. I am unsure what happened, but I only heard roars and a few loud screams. It should also be known that the screams of these kids being mauled by a bear were significantly quieter than the kids who scream inside Bowls Department Store at nothing.
When I finally reached Tiger Mountain and was hanging out with my friends watching the bands, I did my best to attempt to remove the images of the angry bear pulverizing those kids out of my head. To ease any mental disturbance that it might have caused, I simply satisfied myself with knowing that those kids being slain only meant that there would two less assholes fucking up the children’s clothes at Bowls Department Store and I would never have re-fold any mess that they had made. Although worries concerning the family of tourists lasted only a few short minutes, thoughts of the bear stalking me did eventually overwhelm my mind. I eventually drifted away from all of my friends in order to consider everything that had ever happened from Now Until Never.
I observed the scene and reflected on what it must have been like 100 years ago at this very spot… assuming these people were present. And, they were present… all of them. This guy, he had been sitting in this exact parking lot since 1923; her—she had been walking these streets long before that tree was planted; he’s still wearing that T-shirt that he purchased in 1935… that group over there—they sat in that exact same circle, having that exact same conversation, wearing those exact same clothes, in the exact same fashion on August 22nd 1956. And so the sun rolled, the moon passed, the world fast forwarded over several generations, and then remained exactly the same.
Sundays present multiple opportunities to encounter a bear attack because Asheville bus is closed on Sundays and I have to walk both to and from work. Even though it was a relatively nice day, I still carried my umbrella with me. My voice of reason and I had been influenced by the words of the late Rovanious Wilson, a former co-worker/friend from Cincinnati who once said:
“It’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.”
For most of the duration of the walk, I felt as if I did not need it. There were some other people walking in the same direction as I was and I found it a bit peculiar for them to have been in my proximity for this long. Once we passed the U-Haul dealership, on the horrifying Swannanoa River Road with no sidewalks, I was suddenly stricken with fear. The 2nd cup of coffee made me recall the disturbing elements of last night’s bear incident.
When I walked passed, I carefully observed the scene as I had not heard any news of anything disastrous that had occurred at The Swannanoa River U-Haul dealership… perhaps I had only dreamt it. I do not have a TV though, or a radio, so I did not have any means of hearing about anything commercialized media considered newsworthy anyway. But, there it was—streaks of blood smeared along the side of the 24 foot moving truck. I detoured from my treacherous path to investigate the blood stains and noticed that the family was still in the truck, sound asleep, alive, and aside from a few lacerations, they seemed to be fine.
Once again, I was stricken with fearful anxiety. Because the bear did not finish the job, I worried that these kids would enter Bowls Department Store today in order to buy the clothes in which the bear had damaged. This meant that they would spill blood all over the clothes I had neatly folded the previous night. However, it occurred to me that I was working in the shoe department on this day and I would not have to be responsible for any mess they made. Unless they entered the shoe department; that thought alone provoked the most grim and morbid illusion since visualizing a Dubya 3rd term inauguration speech.
Even after examining the tragic crime scene, I made the trip in quick time and decided to promenade through the gorgeous scenery of Wal Mart before being laid to rest in the ghastly pits of doom. Once upon a time, I had devised a superstitious fabrication that if I encountered 10 attractive women before starting work, the day would operate smoothly and tips would be generous and plentiful. Back in Milwaukee, this was an easier task while frequenting City Market on a daily basis… the employees alone could normally account for four of them.
Wal Mart, on the other hand, I had to resort to desperate measures to boost the count to anywhere near ten. Plus, I was not earning tips anymore since I was no longer a bartender and was therefore unsure what award to devise should the mission be accomplished. It had initially been that if I espy 10 moderately masturbatable women that I would obtain a new job, but I viewed those as too high of stakes and was not willing to risk anything. Therefore, I declared that once I discerned 10 sexy women in Wal Mart before work, then that would be the day I finally have a girl over to my new apartment… and more than likely it would be one of these luscious babes shopping at Wal Mart.
The initial walk through was virtually hopeless and I frowned knowing that this would be another night of jacking off. There was one. Once again, I resorted to desperate measures in order to hopefully increase the count up to ten (out of 459). I had browsed the entire store, searched in every possible corridor and even examined underneath cracked tiles in the floor, and had the count up to 8—although one of the girls was maybe 15 years old and several others required severe intoxication and list of excuses for justification.
Before I could finish my excursion and select two more potential candidates, a man stopped me in the store. It was one of the guys who had been walking in the same direction I was since passing the mall.
“Hey,” he said as he stopped me and I removed my headphones, “were you just out walking?”
“I was,” I answered.
He looked extremely frightened and I suspected that he must have been intimidated by the umbrella. Also, he appeared serious, suspicious, and a multitude of other descriptors that made me clutch the umbrella even tighter. “Hey,” he said secretly as he leaned in closer to me, “I think that somebody is following you.”
“Oh,” I said with a smile, “people follow me all the time. I’ve been blacklisted.”
“Just watch your back.”
I was a bit perturbed by this whole ordeal and simply left the store. “Fuck Wal Mart,” I said out loud to myself in the parking lot, apparently loud enough for mother fuckers to hear me.
“Fuck you too,” responded Wal Mart, with the entrance door opening and closing to represent the mouth of the building conducting the speaking.
After what I considered a crude remark and heedless bullshit that I need not take from an inanimate object, I disqualified the 15 year old on the notion that if she was already shopping at Wal Mart at this early of an age, then more than likely lacked all of the romantic qualities that constitute one as a decent lover—even if I am currently residing in North Carolina and she had already slept with way more people than I ever will. After that, I disqualified all of them and declared the count at Wal Mart to be a zero. I established the notion that being seen in Wal Mart would be an automatic deal breaker… a symptom even worse than possessing a Bowls Department Store charge card.
As I was walking in the direction towards work, some other random girl stopped me in the parking lot. I was listening to music in deep thought, carrying a cup of coffee in one hand with my umbrella & mp3 player in the other; her empty handed ass stopped in my path and waved her hands in my face signaling for me stop and remove my headphones. After I stopped, lost my train of thought, re-arranged the shit in my hands to remove my headphones, she related the absolutely beneficial message in which was of utmost importance to me, “you got an extra cigarette?”
Bitch! I ain’t even got a bed! I work at mother fucking Bowls Department Store and I am positive you make more money than me. Trot your ass over to Wal Mart and buy your own God damn cigarettes!
I was so angry that I contemplated staring her in the face, pulling it out, and jacking off thinking about her right then and there with the notion that she would immediately vanish into a cloud of smoke and never be seen again.
For that matter, I hate people I don’t know bumming money from me. This is the worst element of Asheville. It would be different if they were actually friends, if I actually had any interest in them whatsoever, AND if I actually had money to even take care of myself. Some of the homeless people on the street are actually pretty cool, but most of the ones in Asheville are useless to society.
Mother fuckers come up to me, “hey man, can you spare a couple bucks so I can get a beer?” Fuck no! And fuck you! I don’t even have enough money to get myself a beer. I hate being this way, but these degenerates are total disgraces with no positive qualities whatsoever. Yes, I am interested in busting my ass at Bowls Department Store while listening to Kelly Clarkson for a lousy $7.55 an hour to hand my cash over in order to support keeping wretched stinky ass inconsiderate stupid pathetic completely useless eyesores in my sight.
Another lady once approached me asking me for $5 to get gas… even offered some sad sobbing story that she would take anything I could give her so that she could get a hotel room for her children. Her husband and kids were in the brand new $30,000 vehicle and her elegant dress attire cost more than the crappy futon that I had dreams and aspirations of purchasing hopefully within the next 6 months.
Fortunately, that family that had been attacked by the bear never entered the store… fuckers probably went to Wal Mart. But, as the hours were approaching for my shift to end, I suddenly feared walking home. All I could think about was the events that had unfolded, the bear, Batman, the dead hooker, and those God damn kids. I remembered the morning after Candi was killed, that she appeared in my room and was roaring like a bear; the last thing I wanted was those God damn kids in my room taking pictures and shit.
Generally I do not accept rides from people: 1.) because it is inconvenience to the other person, 2.) because I do not want to be dependent on anybody, 3.) nobody ever offers me a ride because they do not wish to have my stupid ass disgracing their vehicle, and 4.) it is against my personal code of ethics to entice any person to do anything he/she does not wish to do (and that is perhaps the main reason I shall remain single for life). However, in a strange twist of events, Loretta mysteriously offered me a ride home. And even more strangely, I accepted.
Loretta is an acceptable person to ride home with because she smokes cigarettes and I am permitted to say cuss words around her. She does not present a threat to invoke the two greatest fears I have from accepting rides home with other Bowls Department Store employees—particularly those who had been there a long time and had escalated their societal status to management. I have no fear whatsoever about being taken to a strange home, tied up in a closet, and then sexually abused and repeatedly raped. My two biggest fears consist of:
#2 Biggest Fear from accepting rides home from co-workers: She will talk the entire duration of the ride home about Bowls Department Store and Bowls Department Store policies; possibly even requesting my input on various ideas about the store.
#1 Biggest Fear from accepting a ride home from anybody: She will be listening to Bowls Department Store music in the car and perhaps sing the lyrics out loud with heartfelt meaning.
As she was talking to me, I looked over and thought that she looked pretty sexy that evening. Perhaps it was better luck to have a zero count at Wal Mart, which could have been yet another life changing element to occur this week. Since she passed the preliminary compatibility test by not playing “Stereo” by Colbie Calliat in her car, I sought for Loretta to be the first girl to enter the bedroom of my new apartment. Therefore, I sat up straight and attempted to look cool and attractive.
She asked what I had been up to lately and I quickly answered:
“I am responsible for the death of Batman.”
After saying this, Loretta slammed on the brakes and abruptly threw me out of her car. It officially dawned on me that there were numerous other elements as to why I would remain single for the rest of my life.
While I did not have to worry about a bear encounter while walking on the highway, I did have to consider being harassed by the police because being a pedestrian on the freeway is mysteriously a crime in this so-called free country. Furthermore, the last thing I wanted to explain to an oppressing officer was that I was walking on the highway as a result of accidentally informing a woman who I was trying to entice that I had killed Batman… nobody ever wants to be interrogated by the police for being linked to the death of anything named Batman.
Section II Soundtrack Listing:
1. The Streets
"Dry Your Eyes" 4:32
A Grand Don't Come for Free
2. The O' Jays
"(They Call Me) Mr. Lucky" 3:20
3. Lady Magma
"All My Money" 3:03
4. Black Flag
"The Pups Are Doggin' It" 4:16
5. Renaldo And The Loaf
"Bearded Cats" 2:31
"Ride On" 5:54
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
7. Brave Captain
"Go With Yourself" 8:51
Nothing Lives Long, He Sang, Only the Earth and the Mountains
8. Baby Huey
"A Change Is Going To Come" 9:26
The Baby Huey Story
9. Fruit Bats
"Spelled in Bones" 3:45
Spelled in Bones
10. The Moody Blues
Question of Balance
12. David Bowie
"A New Beginning" 5:20
Desert Love For Lonely Graves
"Die Wunderwaffe" 4:35
15. The Auteurs
"Unsolved Child Murder" 2:06
After Murder Park
"Island of Domination" 4:25
Sad Wings of Destiny
"From Now to Never" 5:34
18. The Velvet Underground
"Sunday Morning" 2:56
The Velvet Underground & Nico
19. The Work
20. Slammin' Watusis
"Bitter Pill" 3:38
21. Dirty Projectors + Bjork
"On and Ever Onward" 2:01
Mount Wittenberg Orca
"Up Up Up" 4:34
"Rape Me" 2:52
24. Jennifer Warnes
"Right Time Of the Night" 2:53
25. The Stylistics
"Betcha by Golly, Wow" 3:48
26. Kishi Bashi
"Wonder Woman, Wonder Me" 3:20
27. Dan Deacon
"Wham City" 12:12
Spiderman of the Rings