60 minutes down the hole

…And by this picture, we tried once again because I wanted to do this! And I felt like ‘Hey, it looks like I’m a off-duty cop (gray shirt with collar and dark colored pants) just without the gun shoulder holster thingy. And I’m going to get that dude to do it.’ With my new sense of bad cop, I threw him in bag without his shoes and brought him to the little playground.

And yeah okay so the pictures came out bad. Told you so. But whatever, one idea checked off the list.

But I seriously got to clean him sometime. Joints man. Just a nice little area to collect lint and therefore stain and smudge bwah. Note to self: Buy cleaning supplies and Mr. Clean.

Had a little change of clothes, took off them silly facial hairs, not like we can see his face. But he was absolutely like Jack from Titantic when they were sinking.

Yeah I was thinking that sliding down…no one looks good sliding down. Why do we need a picture of this? I don’t see photographers saying to their models ‘I have a great idea. I want to have a photoshoot of models down a slide. And they’ll be soooo sexy coming down.’ Oh, yeah, it’s hard looking sexy with your legs flapping everywhere. I just saw a toddler, two of them, the boy dropped the baby doll down the slide and the girl got the doll. Besides how they don’t care, that doll was pretty banged up dirty, slid face down and all. The boy climbed ON TOP of the slide, how dangerous, with the doll in his hands. I thought ‘Kiwae you better not leave me alone with kids like them. On another note, don’t leave me alone with your 15 year old nephew.’

OMG, just found another Mori (NS RYUN)! They’re hard to find. Do you want to answer this question or not?

Sure, I think I’ve been traumatized enough.

You better not let go! I'm not going out like Jack!

If you only had an hour to live, what what you do with those 60 minutes?

(You’d get an extra 5 minutes to post about the 60 minutes on your blog of course).

Lay on the bed and pretend I’m dying because I am. In sixty minutes. I won’t just lay there of course, Bill Evans and Changee will be playing, while I go through the stages of grief. Maybe I’ll even watch a little Tom and Jerry or Rugrats.

I think this is how I’ll take the news of sixty minutes till death.

I'm confiscating this illegal drink. No one should be drinking DIET. "But that's all they had..."

Stage 1: Anger
I’ll be sitting down while you bring me the news. I’ll sit there, thinking about it, and then I’ll be fuming. I’ll flip something over and begin to punch anything, the bed, the walls, while stomping around saying curses to the messenger and throw him out of the room.

You’re not going to go through Denial first?

Well thought I’d be pretty movie/comedy tv dramatic about it. This is just a question. Maybe I’m sloshed at the time or really angry that day. I don’t know. Don’t question my ways!

Stage 2: Denial
Once my face isn’t burning with rage, I’ll charge right after the messenger and totally ask him/her if he’s playing me a fool. And if that fool has a straight face, it must mean he’s been trained to not move a muscle in his face. Oh I know, I’ve been watching cops question suspects all the time on that one show.

Stage 3: Bargaining
If they still won’t tell me the truth, the next option is to bribe them. “How about this? Why don’t you show me some hard factual evidence that my demise is near and you won’t get pummeled.” If it’s a chick, “Okay lady, you better tell me who put you up to this crap before you somehow fall down the stairs.” (Okay I won’t really push anyone down the stairs. That’s just my tv persona acting irrational) Because if you’re talking about ending MY life, I want somebody to take it up theirs. Or at least know that they have a terrible job.

Stage 4:  Depression

Oh yeah. I’ll have accepted that the messenger is telling the truth. I’ll shoo them off their merry little way. Put changee on, read some Bukowski, and drink it up. This stage will last one song because sixty minutes is closing up so of course…

Yeah, my wrist joint totally broke in half. Hail superglue for working.

Stage 5: Acceptance

I accept it, I have to, we’re talking hypothetical here. Life is just a bunch of honey bees and ladymanbugs. Life was good so far. I don’t need to write a will but I’ll mention to not get another doll that looks like me because that’d be messed up. I’m guessing I won’t have enough time to have my final meal or final goodbyes. If the day ever comes, here’s my preemptive “Goodbye~, so long~, good bye (high note)” yeah that was the Sound of Music reference.

Goodbye world, there’s been a lot of good stuff and a lot of bad stuff going on but you did what a world should do, spinning, holding atoms, not being a sailor scout… Keep the faith *holds up fist*  Don’t cremate me, the smell is terrible. Don’t bury me either, it’ll be like Jumanji all over again. Don’t stuff me because I don’t want to haunt you, too lazy. You can sell me off. If you want. Or “drop me off” at an art class hoping the teacher will save me.

Bye Machi-Machi kun, I’m sure this bromance would of…I dunno…panned out? But since this is my deathbed talking, don’t cry a river. There should be other ladymanbugs in the air/grass/flowers, keke.

  1. “*Lip trembles* HOW CAN YOU TELL ME NOT TO CRYYYY??? D: You are totally unique and… um… extremely pleasant to look at!! O///O *starts sobbing* ANYWHO, I never want to think about you dying. You are TOO AWESOME.”

    – Machi-Machi

    (Yeah, he was thrilled when he saw his name at the end. Mori, you’ve made a pink-haired boy very happy.)

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