You Don't Know About My Theories

[The backstory: this is an article previously published on the now-defunct kimono.ca which is a "fake" editorial amalgamating something like fifty different, yet similar, conversations I had with a man who later stole my acoustic guitar. The exaggeration has been kept to a minimum. And yes --- for a time he slept on a hooker's discarded mattress.]

You Don't Know About My Theories
by Jason M.

You know, I used to think you were, like, of a greater mindset, but now that I know you a bit better I've got to tell you what a fucking loser you are, especially when compared to me. You just open your mouth and talk and talk but nothing comes out, man! You've got shit for brains! Have your brains turned to mush? You don't know about my theories.

Once upon a time you might have been justified in shooting me down in front of these chicks, but that day has passed, brother. Sure, when you met me I was just a bum on the street playing my guitar for money, but even then you should have realized from those crazy licks of mine that there was something special about me.

Oh, I don't blame you for being short-sighted and dismissing me as just another busker initially, but now that we've known each other for a while I would think you would have caught on. At first I just chalked it up to jealousy on your part because you know how much I kick you ass at singing, but upon closer inspection I must conclude that your brains have turned to mush. Your mentality level is, like, so low!

It's people like you who hold me back, man! If I hadn't already reached the conclusion that you had shit for brains, then I might let you read my notebook and let you in on some of the ideas that I'm, like, constantly matriculating in my head. As per the current state of affairs, however, I am sad to inform you that not only do you not know about my theories, but I'm not going to tell you.

Did you know that the walls of space within your mind are constantly expanding? I guess not, since it is my theories and my theories alone which explicate this phenomenon.

It's a sad situation when your so-called "friends" make fun of you behind your back. I know what you've been up to man, and I don't understand it. Like, pointing out the fact that the mattress I've been sleeping on came to me secondhand from a down-and-out hooker, and in front of that hot girl I've been "working" on --- that was just weak, man. I don't know what you were thinking when you said that. I can't comprehend you. You're not comprehensive!

At least I can take solace in the fact that, while I may not score with that girl, solely because of YOUR interference, I will at least have the pleasure of hoarding my theories and denying you that greatest of knowledge. One day, when science finally comes around to accept my uneducated viewpoints, I'll have the last laugh. Like, all the way to the bank, man!

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to sing a song better than you ever could.