Wednesday, February 1, 2012

A Superbowl Message From A Coronary Artery

Hey. Hank here. From the epicardium. Me and the other arteries were talking last night, and I just wanted to touch base. Especially with the Superbowl coming up. Thing is, lately we've really been working. Hard. The pressure down here is intense. Then we hear about this party you're planning, with a pony keg and three kinds of cheese dip. Someone mentioned bringing those KFC Double Downs. That just scares us, you know?

We're not trying to spoil the fun. But last month after you got that bloodwork, we were all really pulling together. You were walking. You were eating oatmeal. We know we can get back there. We had some ideas about the party to just sort of calm things down and prevent any...

Wait. What is that? Is that... is that fucking peanut oil? Are you in a FIVE GUYS right now?!

Unbelievable.

Okay bitch, let's play career day. What do you do, again? You lease commercial real estate. So I guess if you don't come to work, some emo punks gotta drive all the way to Fairfax to get their stupid crap from Hot Topic. Wow. Hey, you know what I do? I KEEP YOU ALIVE. If I decide I've had enough of your bullshit, you're munching Funyuns with Jesus.

Is that what you want? Is crapping your pants and dying in an inflatable chair surrounded by Bud Tall Boys a dignified way for a man to end his 50 years on the planet? You want to flatline sometime in the third quarter wearing that stupid tricorn hat? Go Patriots. Yeah, you want to meet some actual Patriots? How 'bout Paul Revere? Cause he's waiting for you, man. I can make that happen. I'm old and I'm tired, and the other day I passed something that felt like a hubcap. I don't care anymore.

You fucking think about it.
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