This might be the weirdest column to date if you can fathom the thought. Here is the story: I have recently been back in contact with a person with whom I was very close when I first moved back from Houston, Texas.
The individual in question shall remain nameless and faceless, as is my custom, for his own protection and mine, quite frankly.
We generally partake in “coffee talk” in the mornings before I launch into being the perfect employee for David Schaef. (Mind you, when you read the words coffee and talk, you must do so with a heavy Brooklyn accent, maybe in the manner of our dear Bernie Sanders. Note how I was able to work him into a non political column. I'm getting pretty seasoned at doing that and have now become an expert on digressing in brackets too.)
Anyhow, I shall nickname this person FFB which stands for Former Front Burner. This is an inside joke but please play along.
A bit of background is necessary at this time in terms of FFB and his particular brand of insanity. I am not going to label him with any of those new brands like ADHD, OCD or the like. Instead I shall make something up. Hmm, how about we call his disorder RPAC (Ridiculously Persnickety and Crazed.) I think that's a gentle yet effective way of doing this.
For one example of his RPAC issue, the man would sooner take his own life than place a stamp on a letter in a haphazard way. He reaches for a level from his work shop for stamp applying purposes, if that helps this illustration.
Another example would be putting DIRTY dishes in a sink. Where in the *&%$# is one supposed to store such implements of eating? One time I ate ice cream at his place and had the total chutzpah to place a spoon with some ice cream clinging to the side in his precious kitchen sink. You would have thought that I broke dishes madly in the manner of a Greek wedding reception or something. I mean the nerve of my putting a spoon in the sink. What WAS I thinking? I should have known better.
I think you might have a clear picture of the shenanigans concerning our darling FFB so I can now drive him absolutely bonkers.
I have discovered that FFB still subscribes to the world-famous Community News and it is delivered to the state in which he now dwells. I am now officially in a panic because I know how he is. He will literally (and you know I only use that in a literal way) put a book down for weeks if he finds ONE typo or ONE improper use of grammar.
As many of you know, I attempt to be a grammarian and I give it my best tuition free college try. However, I have been known to make mistakes. Calm down, I know this is shocking and lurid but it is true.
I cringe when I think of FFB hovering over Rants and Raves every week with his red pen and yellow highlighter. Therefore, the rest of this piece will be written strictly to drive him to partake in massive amounts of alcohol consumption. It could possibly lead to his eventual nervous break with reality but it's a risk I'm willing to take.
Before I start it was brought to my attention after the fact that a recent report I submitted had mistakes. HOLD ME! I referred to a road grader as a grater of the cheese variety. So, I'm picturing area readers and FFB clutching pearls as they read about cheese grater operators up in the Conneautville region.
With that, I am now going to nonchalantly segue into the portion in which I drive FFB crazy. This is a totally made up saga for the sole purposes laid out above. Here goes: I went down to Sheetzes the other day and I seen a person I hadn't talked to in ages. I knowed she looked famillier but just didn't recanise her at first.
We talked for a long time and had fun. It made me late for another place I had to be and I thought I shoulda went their earlier rather than hear. Oh well it was still great to talk to my old friend. Then, I proceded to drive home and I seen something weird in the drivewy. Turned out to be a peace of garbage that came from the trash because a posum nocked it over and it was all over the place.
I didn't no that we had a family of posums on the property but found out quickly. I through something at him and he got up and ran of.
I'm back. I simply cannot handle it anymore and have snapped back into actually trying to write in a proper manner. Also, my auto-correct wreaked havoc with many of my words and had the nerve to correct them.
I believe my mission has been accomplished this week and I shall now release you all from bondage. One more tiny thing I must say is this: Hey, FFB put this in your pipe and smoke it. I hope your yellow highlighter and red pen run out of ink and you have to reach for extra meds to get through this piece. Other than that, I so enjoy our coffee talk and fun banter. Live for you FFB!! Take care hon.
THE END.