Hello Chinchillas,
I apologize that it has taken me so long to write. Seems like the last time that I had time to jot down my thoughts was when I was watching the series finale of Dallas. On another note, as we all know, the economy is still in the pooper. Everyone keeps saying, "Oh it will get better, the housing market will pick up." I'm a waitin for the turnaround... But so far I have seen zilch, zero, nada. I'd have a better chance of seeing Courtney Love at an AA meeting than I would seeing the economy spiral back up.
Like most other families, mine has been in termoil for the past few years. My mom can barely afford to buy a box of wheaties to tide us off for the week let alone meet the payments on our sub par apartment in Wheaton's southside (some may call it a shack). By the way, that is mold growing in my shower mom, not ivory... So stop calling it Wrigley Field Jr.
I apologize that it has taken me so long to write. Seems like the last time that I had time to jot down my thoughts was when I was watching the series finale of Dallas. On another note, as we all know, the economy is still in the pooper. Everyone keeps saying, "Oh it will get better, the housing market will pick up." I'm a waitin for the turnaround... But so far I have seen zilch, zero, nada. I'd have a better chance of seeing Courtney Love at an AA meeting than I would seeing the economy spiral back up.
Like most other families, mine has been in termoil for the past few years. My mom can barely afford to buy a box of wheaties to tide us off for the week let alone meet the payments on our sub par apartment in Wheaton's southside (some may call it a shack). By the way, that is mold growing in my shower mom, not ivory... So stop calling it Wrigley Field Jr.
Anyhow, since I assume the role of Chief Male in the house, I felt the sincere and deep yearning to provide a stellar life for my family. Since my surgery, I have been on disability but that ended last week. Nowadays, I can barely rub two pennies together to keep warm. I no longer have the luxury of buying that special head and shoulder shampoo for my dander ridden mane either.
I knew that I needed to step up to the plate ASAP. I envisioned myself as Babe Ruth and the ball as my bitch. I was going to be knocking applications out of the park until I found a high paying job that would bring riches, fame and all the Twinkies and hoho's I could imagine. Three weeks passed and I had already completed 101 applications to symbolize each dalmation in my favorite film. Was I qualified for half of the jobs? Financial analyst, CEO of a Fortune 500 Company, Toll House Elf Costume Designer, Chemical Engineer...just to name a few. Well, you be the judge.
I heard back from most of the companies two weeks later. Financial analyst-
Was told that I was less qualified than Palin was for Vice President. CEO- was told that they'd rather hire a monkey who doesn't speak English. Costume designer- they told me I'd have better luck designing outfits for Princess Beatrice. Chemical engineer- they just respond with Ha Ha Ha. I was down to one last hope and this one was the big kahuna... Head chef at Taco Bell. Clearly I had a culinary bachground (used to fry roadkill for homeless kittens) and I would even consider myself overly qualified.
"Ring ring" the phone sounded one somber spring day. I picked it up, "Phoenix and mom's house. Phoenix speaking." I heard a voice clear their throat at the other end, "Hey mang, I seen joor application for da head jeff gig. I noticed you has a backgrounds of cooking dead meow meows and road skunks. We think joor the perfect fit."
It was like the angels has lifted this huge weight off of my shoulders! Me? Head chef at the Grade-A, classy beyond classy taco bell? I was humbled! Of course I gave them my verbal agreement over the phone right away. By the next week I was frying up cheesy gordita crunches and mexican pizzas like there was no manana.
I became very popular at work. Everyone was always giving me free snacks. "This one is on the house. You are looking thin today" they would tell me. I even became part of the in-crowd that would go to Dave and Busters every week for beers and wings. The group consisted of my co-workers Cleetus, Arthur, Jollyrancher, Destiny and her child also tagged along. I must have gained at least 10 lbs in my first month working there. I looked like a furry Michelin man.
By month 2, I was even heavier. I was embarrassed to leave my house except to go to work. Co-workers continued to tell me that I looked fabulous and under weight, but the man in the mirror told a different story. How had I let myself get like this? Now I know how Arnold Shwarzanegger must feel. One day you are a chisled sex symbol and the eye candy of hundreds of Americans and the next day you're the fat disgrace that wants to crawl under a rock and die.
Month 3 at work changed everything. It was a normal Monday and I had just started frying up a chalupa. I rang the bell, which indicated that i needed more mystery meat to complete my chalupa masterpiece. Nobody answered my ring-a-ding so I decided to fetch the meat for myself. As I was walking toward the fridge, I saw a bunch of papers scattered across my manager, San Felipe's desk. I couldn't help but notice my picture on one of the pages. Naturally I stopped to admire my own image. But I couldn't have ever been prepared for what I saw on the page.
"Cheesy Gor-Pheeta crunch coming this August" the paper read. What? Me! How? My place of employment was going to chop me up into little pieces and serve me as a promotional sale item? They could have at least had the common courtesy to add me to the featured menu item of the week. But all that was beside the point! The real story here was that my co-workers were trying to fatten me up so they could cook me and serve me to customers.
I turned over my shoulder and saw San Felipe standing there with a surprised look on his face. He lunged toward me and I ran as fast as I could in the other direction. I glanced back and I saw San Felipe grab a knife off the counter as he chased me. "Oh no, this is it, I am a goner" I thought to myself. San Felipe got a hold of my collar and held the knife to my throat.
"Dis is da end of the line for joo, mang. Danks for being a good employee, but I regret to informing jew that jew are August's special, yea." As he wisked his arm back to chop my neck I heard a sexy voice yell "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Johnny". The next thing I knew, San Felipe's head had been blown off by an apple gun. It was not Jack Nicholson's character from the Shining that had come to my rescue and it certainly was not Johnny Depp. Low and behold, the one and only Johnny Appleseed had saved me from my demise.
Fast forward a few months later and I Johnny and I have become the best of friends. Not only did he save my life, but he helped me get my weight back in tact. He could whip up a mean apple strudel if you know what I mean. I can also honestly say that I am the happiest that I have ever been. The large settlement that I sued Taco Bell for also had a lot to do with my current mood.
Call me Ishmael, but I am uncertain of what the future holds. Perhaps I will be a globetrotter or an astronaut. It is possible that I could make a run for President. But for now.. I am just happy and healthy being Phee.
Love,
Pheedel
