A man definitely needs his coffee in the morning.
But he can’t breathe without his morning cigarette.
Cautiously he locks the door to his office at 10am, so he can finally have his cocktail.
Don’t disturb a man when he is drinking during business hours.
Eventually he will respond to the eleven hundred emails and express his apologies, making no excuses.
Forgoing his usual four o’clock snack, he finds a food truck that serves funky frappuccinos.
Ghastly girls are drinking green smoothies in grey maxi dresses and giant glasses covering their glossy eyes.
He hurries past them to the hot dog stand to hush his hungry belly, but they overhear the horrible noise coming out of his heinie.
Instead of inviting some interesting friends to dine, he insists on intruding on strangers and involving himself in their intimate conversations, eliciting impolite interactions.
Just as January was approaching the jury was out on whether he would get a real job, he was juggling between a janitorial gig and being a journal writer, while moonlighting as a jazz musician and a jeweler, but he really was a jack of all trades.
Kabbalah classes had to take a back seat to kitchen renovations, first replacing all door knobs, throwing out the old kale, kid proofing the counter areas, tying knots on all the garbage bags for good karma, making some chicken kebabs with kimchi and sitting down to eat like the king of Kentucky.
Lola was his best friend and she liked to lament to him about everything from her laughable love life to her liver functions; lessening his ability to lose himself in thoughts of lust and indulge in the perpetual labor of beinga loser.
Many daysthey roamed Mulberry Street in search of Mexican munchies and decorations for their Cinco de Mayo themed apartment; mostly maracas, mellow sombreros, and posters of the mighty Madrid; occasionally they stop for mango margaritas and bloody virgin Mary’s.
Never did the notion of needing a normal love cross his mind; he negotiated his usual nocturnal nonsense; negligent lovers ignoring his nether regions, artsy nymphs in neon stilettos, and nothingness only further nullifying his nonexistence.
Opportunity for another original idea stood stagnant, overdose on opiates and overall overindulgence, out with the old, in with the outrageous, orchards of orange oleanders drowning in an ocean of thrills.
Parades of harmonious madness and dreams of a perfect paradise where a man could put his feet up, stare out into the sea from his porch, puff a cigar, make some porn, pick strawberries in a field, purchase a hammock for his yard, perch a tent on his roof, pickle some purple cabbage, paint pictures of foxes, and take some plain old pleasure in his surroundings.
Quaint little house on a quiet street with a quirky fence, the color of Quaker green were quintessentially him; his quest for a quick recovery from city life without any quality was a success, he met a village queen named Marine and they quickly fell in love; Marine was from Astoria, Queens, and she too, was not without her quirks, like downing a quart of eggnog with a side of quinoa daily, and then bitching that she’s queasy, if those queerly habits weren’t enough, she also enjoyed quilting.
Reality set in, rural life was really boring and routine, tired of all the rest and relaxation, missing the riff raff and noise, desperate for some random raunchy city fun the duo returned to New York to rip up the dance floor, they rocked out to Rihanna and Little Richard and Ricky Martin and Rage Against the Machine— while popping disco balls in crowded restrooms.
Suddenly someone committed suicide and everyone started feeling sick, so the silly shenanigans needed to stop, the world was slowly coming to an end, full of suffering, sorrow, and global warming, so much sadness— and STD’s that caused your skin to turn silver, and tiny shards of glass fell from the sky and into the sand.
The tired universe could not tough it out any longer, tons of tacky people were taking over Time Warner Cable, Game of Thrones was cancelled, the Tindr app was totally failing, tremendous trouble was brewing, terrorist trolls were attacking the new World Trade Center and the Holland Tunnel, #apocalypse was trending on Twitter, this was a tragic disaster.
Uproar was caused when underneath the ugly earth an ultimate utopia was uncovered on a planet called Uranus, where ultra hip DJ’s spinned unheard of beats to an undisclosed group of Uranianites who hailed from Bushwick; they were unbelievable misfits who urinated on sidewalks while playing their ukuleles, unbound by any usual human rules or regulations, united, uncensored and unique in their understanding of what’s totally unreal.
Video surveillance was installed in a van that traveled around recording what was visible from the streets of Uranus; violent vultures ran vapid spreading vaginal diseases to anyone with vacant vaginas, womenwere advised to stock up ona variety of vibrators, virgins were deported, attractive visitors were not issued return visas, virtually all snacks except vanilla flavored vegan beef jerky were banned, everyone became very frail since there were no vitamins, the drug stores were only selling tubs of Vaseline, and all the vaccines were now viral.
Whatever was happening had to be stopped, people worried so much that all they could do is get wasted, they drank whiskey like water and it was Wesley who found a way out, he discovered a wonderful place and called it Westopia, that’s when all the weary white people decided to escape, they went wild and ate watermelons which grew on willow trees in this wonderland, where witches and warlocks lived without fear or worry.
Xanax soonbecame the daily diet, people Xeroxed their Xanax prescriptions, selling them like X-mas cookies on the streets, five Xanax for 5 bucks was a damn good deal, but ten Xanax only cost you 7, side effects included x-tromia, x-rasia, x-phobia, x-nophilia, x-chrodia, and ramped cases of x-mania, increased dosages caused x-attacks, while x-rays showed nothing but Xanax in the bodies of patients, this x-rated debauchery was destroying the previously peaceful Westopia and was now spreading to every X and Y coordinate of the forsaken planet, a group of saviors by the name Xaviers brought the antidote X-man serum to rid of Xanax withdrawals, the medicine altered people’s XY chromosomes and the x-rated circus got even worse, the trash cans were overflowing with empty Xanax bottles and discarded Xeroxed scripts.
You couldn’t imagine the devastation; yellow-eyed demons trolled the streets yearning for their fix, each new day worse than yesterday— yet Wesley was not ready to yield, his youthful body was strong after many years of yoga practice, he yelled like a yard bird and Marine came on her yacht all the way from Yemen with a bunch of vegan yuppies who—yes, you guessed it, brought a magical soy yogurt cure,some were young, some were old but they all enjoyed yapping about the benefits of Yerba mate tea, fresh yucca, raw egg yolks, baked yams, the beverage Yoohoo and other very yucky things, but it was starting to work, the addicts were beginning to yuppify.
Zodiac predictions were coming true, a stampede of zippy zebras had escaped from the zoo and zig-zagged their way to the enemy, ginormous zits were attacking the faces of evil drug dealing zombies, xanax was entirely replaced by a new, healthy drug known as zucchini with baked ziti, as people grew strong and zealous, peace and harmony was quickly zooming to the zone, they no longer had to carry zip-lock bags full of pills, free from addiction they were now full of zest and determination to zap all the criminals and return their zany planet back to balance, there was zero tolerance for funny business, they gathered together, zipped up their zippers and made a Z-line to recovery, Wesley invited his friends Zoe DeChanel and Catherine Zeta Jones who were in Zimbabwe to join him on the new planet that he renamed Zestopia, to celebrate this revolution they threw a swanky Zumba party where danced their lives away forever.