Birth Day of the Dead

Well, readers, well it seems like it is the time in the year when I change my age. This time it is changing to thirty-one. Or at least that is the age, minus thirty-one, that I was estimated to have when I was found in the Arby's dumpster. Despite the grandness of this day, I realized that my ageing means one thing: I am ageing and I am getting less well.

Sure, Greg, you may say, you are ageing but you are also wiser. This is both true and a treesonable lie. Because I know more things, it is true. But then again, it is not true, as I forget more things now because of the erosion of my brain as a result of elderliness and huffing compressed air cannisters. Life is like a dykeotomy.

You may have already guessed who did the fucking with me. Yes, it was birthday. Birthday fucked with me. Now birthday has to find out.

I thought long and hard and erect about how to go about making birthday find out. It turned out that Jon Lenin, who sang "Birthday" when he was a beetle, is now not alive anymore. That would have been a good one. So I decided to go to a place where people enjoy celebrating birthdays.

The Chuck E. Cheese was located upstairs in a huge mall-like mall in Woodside. I remembered this because long ago I once relieved myself in the JC Penney downstairs, in menswear I think. Oh, I have a memory like an elephant, don't I! Except without the trunk and with more dung.

The first thing that I saw was a child with a conical paper hat on his head. This made me angry as it reminded me of the hat I had to wear when I sat in the corner as a child, except this one could not have been used by my stepdad to funnel schnapps. The child seemed excited for his birthday, but this changed when I changed the cake in front of him from a cake to an explosion. I did this with fire and guns.

Needless to say, the boy was unsatisfied with this result. There was wailing and gnashing of teeth, and his parents were purterbed. It was quite good for me because I thought birthday had found out. However, there were many children present who were eating cakes and enjoying birthdays who were not on fire. So I had to do quite a bit of work, even though --wouldn't you know it -- the ATF was showing up. Fortunately I managed to leave the Chuck E. Cheese in as bloody a manner as possible, knowing that birthday had found out.

As I hid out in an alley, I thought about those youthfull children celebrating their birthdays, and it brought me back to my youthfull days when I was a young youth, except these kids had lit candles that were on a cake and not in my orifices. Also they were surrounded by other children in a non-juvenile detention area, and did not need a muzzle to stop their biting. Never the none the less, I began to be waxy and nostalgic, and I enjoyed a smile. Then, for old times sake I went and defecated in the pocket of some nice cargo pants in JC Penney. I love you.