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Bleed to Grow to Bleed

There was a man I often talked to in a town I lived in. The village idiot. On most topics of conversation he was a total ignoramus. Couldn't talk crap about anything related to popular interest; that's probably why no one ever bothered to talk to him. We talked in Vic Park once, and he came up with amazing insight on life. He was pessimistic, I agree, but maybe that's why he was able to push his reasoning that far. About love, or true love, he said, "The day you wake up beside your lover and you realize you don't love them anymore, that's the day true love begins." I thought it was real effing smooth, like 'Nice mantra, dumbass.' Then after a few odd relationships, it started being less of a joke and more of a hope.

Then another day, he talked about his glory years, and he looked at me as though his youth was me, I was him. Except I wasn't, and that seemed to piss him off a little. He said, "One day I woke up with like 6 other people. We were all pretty much naked in what looked like a Parisian renaissance apartment. I got up, put some pants on and downed two warm tequilas. I was really messed up. Didn't know what day we were, where I was, or who were the people waking up. I left the apartment, bought the morning paper and never took acid again."

The last time I saw him, before I left town, he said to me: "When you're so messed up by booze, or crack or whatever, you're so messed you don't even know if you belong in this world, and you feel like shit and you want to sleep forever, you remember this. The times in life that make you feel like that are the times you become what we're supposed to be. They're like growing pains, except you can't grow up in the mind without going through a shit-storm of confused ideas and anguish. You have to bleed to grow."

Transitional Exposure to Foreign Chemicals

Foam-eze. Dreaded chemical. It might be the codeine, but I think that getting foam-eze in the eye is the best thing that happened to me in a while. Sorry, let me reconstruct the incident.

I was using the shower-gun, or hose as others call it, and it EXPLODED. It literally erupted in a fountain of burning bubbles. I then proceded, with haste, to the sink where I could make use of the sink and eyewash. The interesting part in all this is that a customer -probably damaged by gonorrhoea and severely beaten many times as a child- laughed all the while.

A short exchange of words, evidently:

>"Hi, I'm looking for Skakerbashes. Ripe ones."
>"Well, you've come to the right place! Let's see here...ah yes, Skakerbashes: great melons of purple hue and delightful texture: aisle 3. Let me guide you."
>"Certainly. Oh, also; do you, perchance, have Woodland Mouyrs? They're wonderful this time of year. "
>"I believe so. Let's go and see, shall we?"

Balgerbough the clerk and Sir Foxsworthson procede through alleys and finally stumble on the grotesque produce section.

>"Ah! Splendid! This will assuredly please the missus! Now, for the Mouyrs, are there any?"
>"I'll ask my friend here. Slopfrop! Woodland Mouyrs: do we have any?"

Slopfrop groans as his corpulent body rises from a depressed pile of boxes. His face is a river of lard, punctuated by mounds of pus and acne scars.

>"Bah! Haven't seen those in ages! Ever since they cut the Woods east of Notmurshire, it's been a real pain finding them".
>"Oh, too bad. Sorry sir, none left".
>"Oh well, we'll do without".

Sir Foxsworthson leans over towards to Balgerbough and whispers

>"A little on the strong side, is he?"
>"I'm afraid so, ever since his pet hamster died of tyroïd cancer."

But suddenly Sir Foxworthson leans too far and falls! The Mouyr is crushed under his weight and a wrestling match unfolds as an enraged Balgerbough advances! What will happen next? Tune in next time on " A Short Exchange of Words"!