Terrifying Brown

     I do not have a reason for my absence; I simply allowed my laziness to take over. I’m not sure how frequently I will post, but I felt the urge to write an entry, today, so here goes.

     On a recent flight to Boston, I brought along a book of short stories by Stephen King. I guess you can say he inspired this post, but the truth is I had the crap scared out of me. For those of you, who frighten easily, do not continue reading.

     The move to Burbank has been absolutely wonderful, UNTIL this morning. I’m not like the typical person; I don’t hate Mondays and I don’t look forward to Fridays. I guess you can say I don’t hate my job. I woke this morning and did what I always do; I checked the forecast, in order to prepare a proper outfit. (Just kidding! The weather in Southern California is always great!)

     My morning ritual is basically the same each day; I jog a few miles to the summit of the Verdugo Mountains. Luckily, I always seem to reach the peak just before sunrise. There is no better way to start the day! Once I receive a sufficient amount of solar energy, I head east, towards the local food bank. I’ve been blessed by my lord and savior and it is only right for me to return the favor by helping out the needy.

     I’m sorry; I definitely confused my morning ritual with someone else’s. I get ready, hop in the car, and hit the highway (I apologize to my fellow Californians; I meant to say freeway!) with my head on a swivel, watching for cops, as I speed my way down Interstate 5! (I don’t know why I thought I was a jogger!)

     The day began like any other, until I reached for a shirt. I don’t know if there are real superheroes in the world, but I definitely have superpowers. Unfortunately for me, it’s a gift and a curse. No matter where I am, I can spot any trespassing insect.

     Utilizing my hyper-sensitive peripheral vision, I noticed a creepy crawler walking up the wall. Although the lighting wasn’t optimal, I had no trouble spotting the intruder, since the closet walls are white.

     I moved in closer, in order to identify the trespasser; a brown spider. I’m not a native of Southern California, nor am I a herpetologist or one who studies arachnology, so there was no way for me to determine if this was a full-grown arachnid or an up-and-coming killer. (FYI: Herpetologists are not people who have sex with those infected with Herpes in order to understand the disease. People who have sex with those infected with Herpes in order to study the disease are sick!)

     I know I should have simply asked “god” to forgive me my trespasses as I forgive this spider who trespasses against me, but I’m an atheist, so I know there is no “god” to assist in these circumstances. Furthermore, I am a certified “spider serial killer.” I see a spider, I kill a spider. (There was one recent incident where I allowed a spider to live, but that was outdoors. Initially, I wanted to kill “god’s” eight-legged creation!)

     Once I assessed the situation, I was certain that this spider deserved to die. (To avoid any confusion, any spider located inside of my living space deserves to die a horrible death!) I grabbed my Adidas slippers and prepared to deliver the death-blow. (Ironically, all I could think was, “Just Do It!”)

     That’s when the most unimaginable thing happened. The Mother-F-ing spider jumped from his perched position, halfway up the wall, onto the carpet.

     I couldn’t freaking believe it!

     I know what you are thinking, “What’s the big deal?”

     I’ll tell you what the big deal is. The dumbass spider, a known killer, was brown. My freaking dumbass carpet, chosen by my landlord who is clearly trying to kill me since she apparently never got over the East coast West coast rap beef, is the same exact brown. Coincidence? I think not; I WAS DEAD!

     All I could do was channel my inner Nancy Kerrigan and yell out, “WHY ME! WHY ME!”

     Seriously, what the hell just happened? We’re not even in Los Angeles so why the heck did this spider decide to turn into Blake Griffin?

     I did all that I could to locate this amazing half-spider /half-chameleon, part-time dunk champion, but there was nothing I could do other than to come to grips with the fact that this trespasser was preparing to launch a nighttime attack, later that evening.

     Defeated, I prepared to leave the house, never thinking about the safety of my cousin, who was asleep in the other room. The way I saw it, “better him than me!”

     Just when I thought I was a dead man walking, the idiot spider made a fatal mistake. She (I might as well make this villain a woman!) crawled up the wall. There was no hesitation, this time. I attacked with deadly force, catching the spider on the left temple. (Yeah, I’m a spider killing ninja assassin!) The spider died on impact, and I was free to live another day.

     I was victorious on this occasion, but I am prepared to do battle once again. If I don’t survive, know that I fought with everything I had.

     My only reservation when choosing this apartment was the carpet, but I could never have imagined how much the floor-covering would negatively impact my life; I now know what lies beneath. Don’t make the same mistake I made; brown carpets are certified deathtraps! (No, the drapes do not match the carpet. We are men and we do not have drapes!) It’s definitely time for a change. Does anyone know which color best works against spider-chameleons? (While you think, I’m about to call eight-hundred, five, eight, eight, two, three, hundred, Empire, TODAY!)

     From this day forth, getting a good night sleep is completely out of the question. I’m sure most people are familiar with the UPS ads, in which potential customers are asked, “what can Brown do for you.” As of this morning, not a goddam thing!




Another Step Closer

I reached another step on my long road to becoming the Deli Devil. (If you have no idea what I am referring to, read my previous post: This Actually Happened – October 15th) Step eight: have some experience killing the same type of thing, repeatedly.

In my case, I have been an insect serial killer for at least a quarter century; this is a step that I have plenty of experience with. I also have the natural ability to spot any insect regardless of the environment. I can spot a chameleon in the most inconspicuous hiding place.

For some reason, I will instinctively stop watching television and spot a spider, hidden in the corner of my bedroom. Once I see an insect, the desire to kill it immediately washes over me. The problem is I have never been one of those people who touch insects, so I have to come up with creative ways to kill them without actually coming into contact with the critters.

One major concern about moving to California was the knowledge that warmer climates produce larger and a wider selection of insects. Thankfully, I rarely come across the creepy crawlers. Unfortunately, insects are not yet extinct in the city of Los Angeles. Every so often, I will find an insect in the apartment and I will kill it as soon as possible.

Since I do this regularly, I consider myself an insect serial killer. I even have a reliable instrument of death. MY TRUSTED BROOM! First, I use the broom to sweep the insect to the ground, if it is on the wall. Then I use the broom to sweep the insect into the wall at a high speed. The key is I feel absolutely no guilt!

The result is quick and fatal. The insect dies and I use the dustpan to dispose the dead critter into the waste basket. Sometimes, I leave the insect on the floor for an hour or so, just to send a message to any other insects who may be thinking of entering the apartment.

In a way, I am an evolutionary serial killer because I do it for the environment. In fact, the way I see it people who do not kill insects, found inside of their homes, are doing the planet a disservice. Charles Darwin’s Natural Selection will weed out the dumb insects and help to evolve a new super insect that will be smart enough to stay away from killer humans. Through the process of evolution, earth will be a place where humans and insects will be able to coexist, without having to interact. As long as you allow the dumb insects to continue living, you are slowing down the evolutionary process!


     Please don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not some sadistic individual who gets pleasure from killing insects. I don’t want to share a living space with them and the murders are necessary and not gratuitous! The fact that I don’t feel any remorse is because I was able to rid my mind of the guilt-ridden religious theological teachings. (I don’t foresee experiencing any guilt when I move on to become a “real” serial killer!)

***I placed the word real in quotation marks because killing insects is real!***

     Since I’m on the subject, I do have an enemy insect. I despise the centipede. I guess it’s the fact that they are extremely fast and they can kill humans. (I know it is rare for a centipede bite to kill a human, but I’m not taking any chances!)

Although there are people who believe centipedes are a helpful since they prey on other insects, I don’t want them anywhere around me. I have and always will hate centipedes. I will share too experiences which caused me to hate the centipede.

Other than storage space, the basement of my childhood home was only used to wash clothes. Every time I went down to do laundry I had to be on centipede alert. It was terrifying. Originally, the basketball hoop in my backyard was located near the gate and we had problems with unwanted guests. At the end of the summer, we took down the hoop and planned to relocate it to a more desirable spot. When the spring arrived, a cousin of mine was helping me retrieve the hoop so we could re-cement it in the new location. As we carried the backboard up the stairs it got stuck and while we attempted to figure out the best way to loosen the hoop, my cousin spotted a large black centipede. My escape route was blocked by the hoop and I as stuck in the basement with the massive killer. I don’t remember much of what happened next, but somehow I managed to survive!

It was a little wider and longer than this one!

     There was another incident that happened during the summer, about fifteen years ago. We often hung out on my friend’s stoop, but the place was a centipede hot spot, so I was always uncomfortable to the point that my hatred for the insect became a known fact. One day, I jumped off the steps after spotting a centipede. My friend grabbed the insect and chased after me. I hopped on my bicycle and got the hell out of there. I peddled so fast and out of control that I almost crashed. After an hour of being chased from the street, my friend finally told me that he was terrified of centipedes and would never touch one. I was still a bit apprehensive when returning to the stoop, but I ended up trusting him and he was being honest. (That was one of the scariest experiences of my life!)

This post is sponsored by Orkin!

This post is a cry for help. I don’t want to become a serial killer!


No Thanks

**This is post number 150!**

     Although this is my one hundred and fiftieth entry, it is bitter sweet. I previously wrote about my difficulty with holidays. Click on the link to read the post, Why I Cry On The 4th Of July. Thanksgiving Day is just as challenging for me. This time, which is usually reserved for family and friends, is arguably the longest day of the year for me; twenty four hours of painful memories.

I will do my best to be strong, but this entry will be a struggle for me.

     I always found Thanksgiving to be the best holiday of the year. I come from a large family and everyone lived in the Greater Boston area. The food was amazing, and the company was top notch. Everything changed during the autumn of 1985. (I haven’t enjoyed Thanksgiving, since then!)

My parents purchased a home in the town of Brockton, just a few miles south of Boston. Our house bordered the woods and we had several pet turkeys. The king Tom Turkey was Gobbler, a polygamist foul who was large and dominant. My favorite of the flock was the youngest stag, named Gob.

We had a fenced in property so the large birds were allowed to run wild. Each night, Gob would sleep in the large fir tree, which shaded my bedroom window. It was as if I had my own security guard watching over me.

Each morning, Gob would call out and wake me; I never had to set my alarm clock. Most of the turkeys remained wary of humans, but I developed a great friendship with Gob; he was my first and most favorite pet. He was like a member of the family.

My best friend and neighbor was a young Native American girl named Pocahotass; she belonged to the Wampanoag tribe. Pocahotass practically lived at our home; we rode our bikes all over town, going on mini adventures with Gob always riding shotgun in the front basket of my bicycle.

I can remember Pocahotass’ father asking me about my future plans and I responded, “I am not sure what I will be doing, but I know that whatever it is, I will be partnered with my best friend.” I always felt that Pocahotass was a friend, but Chief Massasoit believed that I would marry his lovely daughter, one day. He always teased me; he would laugh whenever I became shy.

Chief Massasoit is a brilliant man, and he was probably right; I would have married his beautiful daughter. I didn’t think anything could ever break the bond that we shared, but the Thanksgiving of 1985 changed everything.

***I am too emotional to continue writing this story. I am going to close the laptop and give myself some time to regain my composure!***

     I apologize for my inability to remain professional, but this was arguably the most difficult period in my life.

The day before Thanksgiving, I spent the day in Boston with family and friends while Pocahotass helped her mom with the grocery shopping. When I returned in the evening, I immediately ran to the backyard to see my favorite pet, Gob. As I walked towards the back of the house, I noticed that the lights were off in Pocahotass’ home; I figured she was out to dinner with her parents. When I arrived at Gob’s favorite fir tree, my heart was almost broken. Gob was sitting at the base of the tree, sobbing uncontrollably.

I attempted to comfort him but he was a turkey; I had no idea why he was crying. I picked up my pet and brought him into my room. I created a comfortable nest for him and provided a bowl of treats; I filled the dish with green beans, corn, bread pieces, and cucumbers. Any other day, Gob would have devoured the mix, but he didn’t eat a thing. I had no idea what he was going through.

In the morning, I woke and checked on Gob. I couldn’t believe what I witnessed; my little pet was dead. After crying for several hours, my mother walked into my room to check on me. I explained what happened and she revealed a horrible truth. (I will never forget her words!)

“Your little pet most likely died from heartache; he probably couldn’t deal with the fact that his entire family was killed yesterday.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. To my dismay, the turkeys were not pets; they were food. The rest of the flock was sold to friends of my parents, except for Gobbler; he was served at our dinner table. The rest of the family saw food; I saw my favorite pet’s dad. (It was a living hell, which I have to relive every year!)

I ran to Pocahotass’ house and revealed the traumatic information. To my surprise, my best friend didn’t care. She believed that it was ok to kill turkeys and serve them for Thanksgiving Day dinner. To this day, I cannot forgive her; I can’t forgive her. We are no longer friends!

In honor of my favorite pet, Gob; I will never eat turkey again!

     Enjoy one of the many murdered turkey with your family and friends, if you must, but please excuse me for being appalled! Would I like some turkey on Thanksgiving Day? No Thanks!

This year, I plan on guarding my fish tank; You never know when these murderers will have a desire to eat catfish! (To read about my fish, click the link! Tank Life)



This Actually Happened – October 15th, 2011

Road To Becoming A Serial Killer

If you were expecting to read about a glutinous man who devours an astounding amount of breakfast cereal, you will be sadly disappointed. This is my realization that I am probably on a path to becoming a notorious serial killer. Most people believe serial killers are crazy men who were born to kill, but I think serial killers are regular people who pick up the necessary traits. As I take an inventory of my life I am starting to notice a disturbing trend; I am almost there! (Yikes!) What are the steps to becoming a serial killer? It’s pretty straight forward. Step one: have some basic knowledge of previous serial killers and their work. (Check!) Step two: Be disciplined and organized. (Check!) Step three: have the ability to easily generate hatred for those who do idiotic things. (Check!) Step four: Have a belief that some people simply deserve to die. (Check!) Step five: Be great with your hands. (Check!) Step six: Have absolutely zero fear of “god.” (Check plus!) Step seven: have experience cutting-u p and disposing of a large mammal. (Thanks to what happened yesterday, Check!) I’m not sure what the other steps are because I have yet to reach them. I hope someone with a magical book, which teaches people how to live properly, will reach me in time. (No pastor pimp, not that book of fairytales!) Let me explain step number seven since I have only recently reached the level. My father ordered a goat before leaving on his vacation. When it was delivered I was perplexed. “Who the hell is going to cut that thing up?” I thought. Unbeknownst to me, I was the unlucky lucky individual; I became the designated butcher. Don’t get the wrong Idea, I have experience with the cleaver, but I had yet to cut-up a full animal. I love challenges so I gladly stepped into the walk-in fridge and gave it a go. Surprisingly, chopping up flesh and bone is a lot easier than I thought. Below I will post a picture of the goat, just after I decapitated its head with saw. (That’s right; I cut this bastard up by hand!) ***IS IT ME, OR DO DEAD GOATS LOOK LIKE DINOSAURS!*** Step seven is optional because we all know some of the lazier serial killers will find a way to either bury or hide their victims. Not me, I’m going to chop that baby up nice and good; I’ll probably end up sending a bag of frozen grade A human meat to the deceased’s next of kin. The media will probably end up calling me the Deli Devil; I think I’d like that! (I seriously hope some future loser serial killer doesn’t read this and steal my idea; I would hate to be a suspect in an investigation!) I am not a killer, yet, but I am an accessory to murder; that poor goat never had a chance. I honestly think this post is not admissible in court! BELIEVE IT OR NOT!

The Gators are still in the hunt for the SEC Championship game! Let’s tame those Tiger’s and take down Auburn!


Speaking of the Gators, is everyone ready for next Sunday’s game between the Broncos and the Dolphins?


Be sure to check back tomorrow for a preview of next week’s posts!



Georgia, Texas, & Arizona Get It Right

I honestly never heard of Troy Davis prior to yesterday. I decided to Google his name once my Facebook and Twitter pages were full of supportive posts. I was so annoyed when I discovered the facts; people are outrageous. The guy is a convicted killer! Tell me if you ever heard this from an inmate. “I am innocent!” (Wake up people!)

I know most of the geniuses I follow on Twitter and my friends on Facebook are expert, non-practicing, lawyers, but I’ll go with the Supreme Court on this one; there isn’t enough evidence to overturn the original ruling. (End of story!) I don’t know the details, but the people who know the same information about the case as I do who are speaking up the loudest. Obviously there are cases in which people are falsely accused, but this guy had years to prove his innocence. How a murderer becomes a hero is confusing to me! (Is this Bizarro World?)

Even if Mr. Davis didn’t commit the crime he was convicted of, I have a feeling he wasn’t a pillar of the community. There are some Cape Verdean parents who hit their young children for no reason and say, “That’s for the things you did which I don’t know about.” Mr. Davis, if you were innocent of the alleged crime, Georgia killed you for the things they did not know about! Criminals get caught; if you want to be around the fast-life, there will be consequences. I never heard of a guy who had his scholarship to Harvard revoked because he was falsely accused of a murder! (It’s funny how often the falsely accused are usually well known to the police!)

***There is a quote; I think it’s about the grim reaper sewing clothes that would be perfect for this story but I can’t remember it!***

     If you are one of the people who disagree with the death penalty, stop with the gibberish. Protesting and filling up Facebook and Twitter with nonsensical messages is ineffective. There are proper methods to achieving change. If you want America to get rid of the death penalty, VOTE! That’s how a democracy works. Jumping on the bandwagon and turning to social media, only amounts to annoying others who could care less about your cause. (I would post some of the quotes, but I don’t want anyone to think I am attacking them personally!)

I am firm on this issue; I love the death penalty. The only problem I have with the procedure is the fact that it takes so long. We need to find a way to execute murderers quicker. I agree with comedian Ron White when he speaks about Texas and the death penalty. “If you kill someone, we will kill you back; that’s our policy!” White also mentions Texas’ attempt to put in a new death penalty “express lane.” According to him, “If three credible people witness you commit a murder, you can be executed immediately!” (May “god” bless the Lone Star State!)

The stars at night, are big and bright, DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS! (SING IT WITH ME!)

    “Are you upset about the Troy Davis incident?” Yes, they should have saved money and strung him up!

Great job Georgia!

This case has been the most annoying one, yet! I can’t wait until the next celebrity decides to ruin our day with one of these “set the prisoner free protests!”

Let’s shift to a more important topic; prison procedures in Flagstaff, Arizona.

Recently, I read an article about the wonderful people of Flagstaff. They decided to force friends and family to pay a $25 background check fee, before being allowed to visit the prisoners. One concerned citizen, PJ Longoni, was upset because she had to help pay for toiletries, a TV, and legal fees for her incarcerated friends and family members. To Pj, I say, BOO HOO! Next time, surround yourself with better people. If prisoners don’t want to be a burden to their families with such fees, stop committing crimes. A society shouldn’t have to deal with criminals, and we shouldn’t give them any rights. If you break the law, you should go to a horrible place. OUR PRISONS ARE TOO LAX! There are people who actually enjoy being locked up; they are provided with three square meals, a shower, and some activities. (It’s insane!)

Prison should be Hell; people should be afraid to go to be locked up. I say allow the prisoners to fend for themselves and cremate the bodies of the non-survivors. Keep the guards on the outside and kill anyone who attempts to escape. Whatever happens inside, is no concern to society. (My prison system will drastically reduce crime!)

If per chance, an inmate is able to survive their time in the prison, he or she can be released into society. If that individual reverts to crime, there is no second and third chance. People who are incapable of learning a lesson will be strung up. No life sentences or behavioral programs. (It would be a done deal!)

There should be no parole and no reduced sentence for good behavior. Only crazy people would risk going to such a place, and society would be better off without the crazies. Each day, the guards should provide a limited amount of food which is to be distributed by the prisoners themselves. If a person is not able to scrounge-up some food, he or she will die. (I know this seems harsh, but I don’t like crime!)

There should also be no medical staff provided. Prisoners can get treatment once their debts to society are paid in full. These changes would save the government a lot of money, which could be used to improve the educational system!

Some may say that Arizona is going too far. I say the state is not going far enough!