Two days ago I used Carl at the coffee shop. It felt good. I felt like a Carl. Then, yesterday, they didn't ask me for my name. The place was pretty empty but I'm wondering if a conspiracy is afoot. Maybe this violates Starbucks ethics. Maybe I'm going to be whisked out of there by Men in Black.
"Excuse me, Carl, or whoever you are, you're going to have to come with us."
They'll carry me out by my elbows in disgrace, blacklisted, banned from Starbucks.
All I want to be is a Rock and Roll superstar. I don't want to learn how to play guitar, though. It looks hard, but I realize that the guitar player is top dog in the rock and roll universe, except maybe for the lead singer, and I can't sing at all. I have never even hummed a line of a song and had it sound reasonable. It sounds awful.
There was a brief confrontation at the espresso machine in the Horseface kitchen this morning. Maybe I should bring it up as a topic at the jail.
I want to be rich. Rich as shit. I don't want to do any work, though. I'm sure I would handle my money well if I was obscenely wealthy.
I'm sure of it.
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1 comment:
Hilarious Carl, and you are a Rock and Roll Superstar.
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