The Prodigal Son
Well, I’ve been AWOL for a while now, and undoubtedly you, our loyal readers, have been concerned for my well being. I would like to thank you all for the cards and kind words over the last few days, they have really helped me through this rough patch.
As Dan mentioned to you a few weeks back, I was auditioning for a major part in NBC’s new reality TV show ‘Ugly Freddy.’ I had flown all the way down to sunny Florida, which is where they will be filming the show in the next few months (it’s sort of an ugly/beautiful contrast shtick they’re running with, you know, ugly guy amongst the beautiful people and beaches of Florida).
It was tough competition, I’ll tell you that! About 30 of us, the ugliest people from around the globe, gathered in one place to prove that we were the ugliest one for the job. The days of auditioning were relentless. First, the mirror breaking contest (I had been practicing a lot for that one so it was really where I shined), then, the child scare (walk around letting children see your face until they run away screaming), there were more but I’m contractually obligated to keep them secret.
I really thought I was doing well with most of the contests; I won a few and did pretty well in the rest. Everywhere I went people were telling me I was the ugliest person they had ever seen, it really made me feel good about myself. By the last day only 10 of the original 30 were strong enough to make it through the challenges. Watching people drop out was painful, this one guy, I still have nightmares about him. His name was Brandon; it was his turn for the kid scare and the first kid he walked up to… smiled at him. Brandon fell to pieces right there, I’ve never seen a man more broken in my life. I can’t even blame him though, I mean, you spend your whole life bragging about how ugly you are just to have some kid smile at you. If Brandon’s family is reading this, my condolences on your loss.
So, on the last day the 10 of us that remained were gathered together by the producers. I thought I was a shoe in, it had to be me, it just had to. Then, the lead producer started looking directly near me (he said it hurt too bad to look directly at me). “Here it comes” I thought, “my big moment!” But then he started explaining that while I was the ugliest one there, in the filming trials his camera men would go into a bout of hysteria after filming me and run to the nearest fire to burn the tapes. He said they kept shouting something along the lines of “el feo Diablo, el feo Diablo!” Unfortunately, because they were unable to keep any film of me away from the raging infernos which the camera crew had hastily constructed, it would be impossible for them to use me as Ugly Freddy.
It’s been a few weeks since the auditions and I’m finally starting to return to my normal routine. I’ll keep on keeping on like I always have.
(cue REM’s everybody hurts)
Hobo Digest
I have written some weird faux newsletters in the past, mostly for my own enjoyment and mostly to just talk about Hobos at length. I thought I would post an excerpt here in hopes of pleasing a large amount of people. If this gets even one comment be warned that I will post nothing but these excerpts for weeks to come. I thrive for your digital approval. Now entering a hobo extravaganza…
Hobo Digest: News to Nap On
Howdy there folks. You’ve joined us hobos at just the right moment in time as we have just witnessed a turning point of the hobo civilization. What you may not be aware about is that the Bums were oppressing the Hobos with an iron pick. Not a pick for a guitar playin’, but one of those fancy pick axes a miner might use to uncover some coal or perhaps gold. Regardless, we were being forced to make all our moonshine for those monsters while they stopped trains coming through for us to jump on and carry out our dreams, dreams of running through fields, napping on top of exotic animals, and drinking ourselves silly. Those days are long gone though! What happened was one day a brave Hobo, Hobo Max, got a grand idea to fill a bath tub up with apple juice. While it still looked dirty and brown like our moonshine, it lacked all sorts of alcohol. Much like how human folks breathe, and we ride trains to live, bums gotta be silly drunks all the time to keep their bodies functioning. Hobo Max used this to his advantage by smuggling in apples from the nearby apple orchard guarded by those pointy greyhounds. To get past those greyhounds though Hobo Max had to use all the wit in the land so he gathered us around an oil barrel one night and asked for our help. All we wanted to do was nap, but one person suggested a piñata in the form of Hobo Max and full of ham might distract them just long enough for Max to get those golden delicious.
The piñata was torn to shreds, the precious meat was devoured, but Max made it back safely with enough apples to choke a horse, which would be great if we were being suppressed by horses, but alas. So instead we had to work on making those apples into that fine apple juice. To make a long irrelevant story short, we stomped the juice out of those apples and filled up our finest bathtub with the fluid. We presented our tub-o-juice to the king bum, Harold. He stumbled around a bit and toppled into the tub to test the juice, as is the usual process. It past the initial tasting phase (bums can drink through their pores) and was carried into the town center for all the drink. Keep in mind, this bathtub was the size of a macaroni penguin. Assuming the macaroni penguin is about 100ft in diameter and bowl shaped and able to retain a bunch of liquid. Anyways, the bums all dove into the tub like it was an oasis in the middle of a desert. Obviously these bums were addicted. We kept our cool and let the refreshing, toxic cleansing juice take its course. In a matter of minutes the bums were shivering, shaking, sulking and just in a horrible mess because of the lack of booze. So we did what we hobos do best, loaded those bums up in makeshift wheel barrows and rolled them down to the tracks where we loaded them onto the rustiest coldest freight train we could fine. The train rolled away, and our freedom and hobo spirit returned to us. Hobo Max, full of the hobo spirit, hopped the first train out of there to spread the magic that is rail road ridin’. In his stead we have constructed a Hobo Max memorial statue that flows with the mooniest of moonshine.
So besides the horrible reign of bums, things have been going smooth around the hobo jungle. A Hobotution is being devised by some of the greatest hobos around; Hobo Moptop, Hobo Shoeswinger, Hobo Moon and his brother Hobo Shine are just a few of the elite working on it. They promise that this Hobotution will provide safety for the people, the box cars relatively clean, and plenty of moonshine. In an effort to promote unity among hobo young, a club known as the Rail Riding Youngins has formed. The RRY teaches young hobos the importance of always moving and exploring the world we have been placed on, while focusing on the fundamentals of being among hobos like the sharing of fires and pots and pans. Knowing that being a hobo can be frightening, they have developed a big hobo little hobo system where a bigger experienced hobos takes a young hobo in training out on rail road trips. Simply stunning! Stay tuned for more news concerning the goings on in your local hobo jungle, Moonshineopolis.