Here's the beginning of the 2nd Chapter of
THE LAND OF THE CHEDDAR MONSTER VIVISECTIONISTS II!!
2
I saw that the door was closed but I tried to walk through it anyway. Watching this, Sara was chilled to the phone.
-¡No! -She screamed and then was back on the phone-. I don’t believe it. She just tried to walk through a closed door... Amy, ¿who else?
I had half a mind to paint her car red with black zebra stripes, but then I remembered that she didn’t have a car, just a medical affliction and a black eye.
My parents watched all of this like they were playing Atari Golf with a platypus.
I was a frustrated painter, if you hadn’t figured that out yet. So was my brother. But Jed was also a pain in the ass.
-¿You like? -He asked, holding up a painting he had done of his ass.
-¡Jed! ¡What kind of artist paints his own... -Sara EXPLODED-. ¡Give me a fucking brake job! Oh yeah -She turned to her Atari-playing parents-, ¡I don’t have a car!
-This picture is goddamn obscure -Jed explained with the wisdom of a man-. It kinda looks like a small, furry animal.
-But, but, but -My sister thought she was bulbously funny. The truth was she was closer to a punk-ass like Jed, who ritually threw salt on the living room rug and danced around on it.
-Jed, ¿what should we turn Sara’s room into? -My mom asked.
To Sara, there was no business quite like everybody else’s business and she primarily used her room to write herself invitations to other people’s parties.
-You know perfectly well what we can turn that shit hole into -My dad replied as if someone was talking to him.
-Yeah, an homage to my ass -Jed replied, cluelessly-. ¡I’ll be the artist!
-¡You are NOT turning my room into a shrine to Jed’s ass! And you are all going to stop treating me like the Pear-Of-The-Month -Sara was getting sassy.
-I’ve never met a chocolate-dipped ice cream cone that I didn’t like -Jed so-called replied-. Because I’m a good painter.
I saw that the door was closed but I tried to walk through it anyway. Watching this, Sara was chilled to the phone.
-¡No! -She screamed and then was back on the phone-. I don’t believe it. She just tried to walk through a closed door... Amy, ¿who else?
I had half a mind to paint her car red with black zebra stripes, but then I remembered that she didn’t have a car, just a medical affliction and a black eye.
My parents watched all of this like they were playing Atari Golf with a platypus.
I was a frustrated painter, if you hadn’t figured that out yet. So was my brother. But Jed was also a pain in the ass.
-¿You like? -He asked, holding up a painting he had done of his ass.
-¡Jed! ¡What kind of artist paints his own... -Sara EXPLODED-. ¡Give me a fucking brake job! Oh yeah -She turned to her Atari-playing parents-, ¡I don’t have a car!
-This picture is goddamn obscure -Jed explained with the wisdom of a man-. It kinda looks like a small, furry animal.
-But, but, but -My sister thought she was bulbously funny. The truth was she was closer to a punk-ass like Jed, who ritually threw salt on the living room rug and danced around on it.
-Jed, ¿what should we turn Sara’s room into? -My mom asked.
To Sara, there was no business quite like everybody else’s business and she primarily used her room to write herself invitations to other people’s parties.
-You know perfectly well what we can turn that shit hole into -My dad replied as if someone was talking to him.
-Yeah, an homage to my ass -Jed replied, cluelessly-. ¡I’ll be the artist!
-¡You are NOT turning my room into a shrine to Jed’s ass! And you are all going to stop treating me like the Pear-Of-The-Month -Sara was getting sassy.
-I’ve never met a chocolate-dipped ice cream cone that I didn’t like -Jed so-called replied-. Because I’m a good painter.
