Why write about friendship?

Why write about friendship? Because I read this book yesterday and it has completely

changed the way I view the world—blew my flipping mind! It scrambled my biscuits, buttered

my bread, then fucked my wife over a coffee. The book was My Damned Dream Life by Zippy

Flipperson. The whole book is about a guy who farts too hard and knocks over an expensive

book shelf owned by the leader of a drug gang. The leader forces the fart to marry his cousin, but

the fart already wants to marry the leader’s mother. The fart wants to be the leader’s dad!

Whoa. That’s deep. My heart races every time I think about that story. I feel like Zippy

Flipperson ripped my eyes open and peeked his mind inside my mind, and then he wrote a story

about a fart who wants to be the leader’s dad.

As you can see, friends are important. They make talking about movies more fun. They

give you someone that will listen to your thoughts about baking too many little pieces of dog shit

in an oven and now it’s no longer suitable for use with food. What do you do with an oven like

that? You can talk to friends for hours about that oven.

Friends also enjoy birds and squirrels—just like you! For fucks sake, get it through your

thick fucking head already, jackass. Friends send you a text on your birthday. Count me in on

that one, ya scurvy loving parrot fuckers!

Sorry, I turned into a pirate for a the last part of that paragraph.

Friends aren’t just fun at parties, they also can be someone to send your thoughts on

airplanes and mattresses. Those are just two examples.

RULE NUMBER 1: You need more than just two things for it to be a good friendship.

Here’s two people whose only connection is their love for airplanes and mattresses going

to pick up a prescription at CVS.

You want the drive through or do you want to go in?

I don’t care.

I don’t care either.

(They are just sitting in the middle of the fucking parking lot. Cars are starting to pile up behind

them.)

I don’t care.

Yeah.

(Someone honks and that starts a chain reaction of about a hundred cars honking and yelling at

these two friends)

Me either.

Drive through?

Was that a question?

Whatever you want to do.

(A protest erupts around them. People have signs that say “Make up Your Mind!” and “Drive

Through or Park!”)

I’m sorry to announce those two friends did not make it out of that CVS parking lot. The

medicine spoiled, it was a special medicine that needed to be picked up within the hour. That’s

why one of them died. The other one died because of the protesters. The crowd turned wicked

around sundown and a brick was thrown right through his face. Luckily, he didn’t die from that

because there was a surgeon on hand who offered to do an emergency head transplant, pro bono.

Unfortunately, the doctor was a secret agent and he botched the surgery on purpose then

swallowed a fake tooth filled with poison.

Of course, that’s a stereotypical depiction of friendship. In the future, I’ll dip a little

deeper into the water-well of what it means to be friends.

Thanks for reading. I love you.