Numb

Goooood morning Kissimmee, Florida…and by everyone I mean me! I’m your DJ with the most, Donnie D. The one, the only…and I’m not lying when I say this because the rest of you are dead.

Gone, bye bye, adios, Sayonara…see ya!

I’m broadcasting on 10,000 watts of pure boredom and waste of time from beautiful, historic, downtown Kissimmee’s Z100 rock station. I’m sure you, dear listener don’t give a rat’s ass….because everyone in the sound of my voice is dead. Yes, I know…I have mentioned this little fact before, but hey….what do I care?

You’re all dead!

If any of you, by some weird chance are not dead, you are probably dying and not listening to me ramble on about nothing anyway. But in the off chance you are not dead or dying, you can find me right on Main street…just look for the building with the big call letters on it: Z100.

Z100 is Kissimmee’s Rock and Roll headquarters! And I am Kissimmee’s new rock god!

Folks in just a few short minutes I will be playing Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb, a favorite and by the way,  how I start every radio broadcast…hell it’s how I start every morning since the big tragedy. I was never much of a pot head before all this, but let me tell ya…being all alone sucks! A little wake and bake helps ease that transition from wandering through nightmare infested dreams to wandering through the streets of Kissimmee for the billionth time…all by myself. And since my bud John is no longer around, I don’t think he will mind if I take his stash of sweet, sweet, Calgon take me away, marijuana.

Hey, remember folks, it’s just  little ol’ me here.

I’m begging anyone…if you can hear me….for the love of God…find me. Listen it’s a well known fact…according to every disaster movie ever made, you always start of with just that one guy…which currently is me…did I mention that? Anyway you just focus on him for like the first 20/30 minutes of the film…then eventually he hooks up with a group of rag-tag survivors consisting of a hot chick, an old dude, a black guy with a pregnant wife…and a stray dog.

So where is my hot chick? Where is my stray dog?

It’s been longer than 20/30 minutes!

I promise I’m not just going to cry for 3 hours like I did yesterday. That was riveting radio I’m sure…

Shut up…

Don’t judge!

Well, you can’t judge. You’re dead.

Let’s take a quick look at the traffic shall we…let’s see…the streets are crowded with the cars you died in…very inconsiderate…you can hardly get a scooter through that mess. Plus it’s all  creepy and scary looking, like out of a B rated horror film, with all your dead arms hanging out the windows, and your dead faces just staring at the sun.

In the weather, it’s going to be hot. It is Florida after all. And this brings a major problem, because all you inconsiderate bastards that died are now stinking up the place. Maybe I should do something about burying you all, or burning you all…but I don’t have the motivation. My arm over my nose will have to do for now.

Well, enough about that…let’s go to the phones. Any requests? And remember I refuse to play R.E.M’s It’s the end of the world, and I feel fine…it’s too easy.

What?

No phone calls?

The phone lines are dead…just like you….

Tee Hee.

Well I was going to play Comfortably Numb anyway, I almost forgot…but before I do that, I would like to tell a Knock, Knock joke.

Ready?

Knock, Knock…who’s there? No one. You’re all dead.

Ha!

You know what? I’m tired, I think you can hear it in the sound of my voice…so today I think I will put Pink Floyd’s wonderful masterpiece, Comfortably Numb on an endless loop while I’ll take a nap.

Just a quick, little known fact about the band Pink Floyd first…they are all dead.

This is Donnie D. your DJ with the most saying…help me, find me….anyone?

Please…

Randoms Pt 8

Don’t let anyone take you down. Unless you are in an elevator and someone has already pushed the button. Because there is no sense in pushing the button twice.

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Left overs from Thanksgiving:

Happy Thanksgiving. Even though it sucks to be a turkey or a pig today, remember it never sucks to be a unicorn…because even if unicorns existed no one would eat them.

In bizarro world, they decorate Thanksgiving turkeys and eat Christmas trees…in bizarro world.

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Alligator Cheese Farm – band name.

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I’m writing a boy band ballad. Here is what I have so far:

I want to paint you by numbers
I want to paint number one
Paint number one
I dab a little red
I dab a little red
I dab a little red
Oops, I went outside the lines
That’s OK girl ’cause number two is blue
And that makes purple
Our love is purple
Our love is…purple

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The teenager came down the stairs and said,

“I shaved.”

However he still had scruff all over his face and neck.

Do I dare ask him what he shaved?

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I need a beautiful moody pouty teenager to pose for the cover of the teen novel I just wrote called: Beautiful Pouty Moody Teen.

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After attending the ballet, I’m thinking about investing in a pair of nut enhancing pants for myself.

Pajama Pants Song

Prelude to Song #1: It’s early morning and I’m tired.

Prelude to Song #2: In order to be able to deliver the Toddler to her VPK teacher, the school makes us stand outside the side door and check the children in one by one. There really is not much organization to it. Everyday about 15 of us parents will wait for the teacher to appear sometime between 8 and 8:10 am. Instead of making friends, I instead have nicknamed the other parents in my head. They are not clever nicknames mind you. We have Green Bay Packers Jersey, Rude Spanish Grandma, Business Guy, (see I told you, not clever) Scary Karate dude, (he is Black not Asian, and doesn’t wear karate clothes, but he looks like he would spend his afternoon at the local dojo), Bluetooth Ear, and Pajama Pants. There are other parents there too, I just haven’t found the time to nick-name them yet.

Prelude to Song #5: If the others have decided to nick-named me, I would probably guess my name would be: Guy Who Doesn’t Comb Hair In The Morning.

Prelude to Song #4: The school sits right outside the neighborhood. Many people walk because it’s so close.

Prelude to Song #5: Pajama Pants, as the clever nick-name implies, always wears pajama pants.

So I’m driving the Toddler to school through the neighborhood, because I’m too lazy to walk. Not the actual walking part, the part where I have to get us up a tad bit earlier, and be more organized to get us out the door on time.

So I’m driving the Toddler to school through the neighborhood, when I pass Pajama Pants…but she is not wearing pajama pants, she is wearing jeans!

Jeans! Not pajama pants.

No pajama pants, which is a problem because her nick-name is Pajama Pants!

OK…now, I don’t know why….but I started singing (out loud):

Where is your pajama pants today, today
Where is your pajama pants today, today

Then I start laughing.

Where is your pajama pants today, today
Where is your pajama pants today, today

Suddenly, I’m thinking to myself, “What the hell are you doing?”

So I start singing (once again, out loud):

I think I’m losing it, losing it, losing it
I think I’m losing it, losing it

I look in the rear view mirror and the Toddler is just staring at me with the most disgusted look on her face.

Which then prompts me to sing:

Where is your pajama pants today, today
I think I’m losing it, losing it

“Stop,” the Toddler screams. “I hate that song!”

But I go on some more:

Where is your pajama pants today, today
I think I’m losing it, losing it
What am I doing?
I think I’m losing it, losing it
You ain’t got no pajama pants today
‘Cause they are dirty, they are dirty
Where is your pajama pants today, today

The Toddler is screaming,

“Stop Daddy, stop. I hate that song. That song is boring!”

Boring? This song is anything but boring. This song is hilarious!

Well, we get to the school, I park the car and walk to the door. We pass Pajama Pants on the way, and she gives me the most hateful look…and it’s at the moment I realize that I should be careful when singing made-up songs…about people…and driving…with the windows open!

The Farmer In The Dell Pt One

The Farmer was in his dell. He was instructed to be there by a little piece of paper.

The paper simply said:

Go to the dell.

Wait for instructions.

Or Else.

C.

 

Ok, thought the Farmer. I’m here. Now what? Or else what?

After about twenty minutes of nothing, the Farmer called, “Hi-Ho!…..Hi-Ho! Anybody there? Hello? Derry-o, anybody there?”

No answer. Apparently the country side of Derry was deserted today, which did not help with the mysterious note with it’s day wasting instructions.

The Farmer sat down.

Off in the distance several tiny dots appeared. As they got closer the Farmer could make out the Pastor’s wife, a small boy, a woman dressed in a nurses uniform, a cow, a dog, a cat, and a rat. Behind them were two big angry men carrying two big angry guns.

Oh my god, thought the Farmer. The Farmer had no weapons and those guys looked big…and angry.

The Farmer slipped back into the brush of the dell. He peeked out, easily concealed by the bushes.

What to do? What to do? The Farmer’s mind was racing.

The group was on the outskirts of the tree line now.

One of the men with the guns barked, “We rest here. 5 minutes.”

The humans looked exhausted. They sat down, no literally fell down where they stood. The Pastor’s wife flopped right in front of where the Farmer was hiding.

The animals huddled together, except the cow which began to graze on the grass.

The angry gun brothers put there guns against their legs and lit cigarettes.

The Farmer waited a minute then tried to get the Pastor’s wife attention.

“Psst, psst,” he hissed at her but she just sat there.

“Hey,” he tried a little louder, almost too loud, as he glanced at the men with guns.

They looked like they had begun arguing over something stupid like politics, or religion, or industrial death metal, or political religious industrial death metal. Whatever, it didn’t matter…what mattered was at some point they laid their guns on the ground. They seemed really preoccupied. Their backs were slightly turned away from where the Farmer was hiding. This was the Farmer’s chance.

In one quick ninja-like swoop, he put his hands on the Pastor’s wife’s hips and took her.

To Be Continued…