Is This Not Writing? – Ted Prokash
May 22, 2025
Don’t call it a stink piece. I’ve been here for years. Like, I think their 4 AM…just hits differently. I think…I think…(what do I think) AAAAAARRGGGGG!! Take me drunk, I’m Jocko Homo!
You know, things used to be a lot different. Back in the day. A guy didn’t have to listen to all this claptrap all the time. Back in the day, they didn’t yell at you while you tried to take a shit. Where I work, bathroom monitor is a salaried position. They don’t want you going in there with your phone. They know you’re in there scrolling Twitter, trying to schedule an oil change, shooting content for your OnlyFans. It’s called time theft. You should look it up. You two should hook up.
I realized a while ago how men come to wear moustaches. They grow one as a joke and then they grow to like it. It’s the same way you get into Guy Fieri. You start watching Triple D for the food and after about two-hundred episodes you realize you would do anything for that man. I got in a fight over him at this local bar called The Wandering Hole. All the Humanities majors from the nearby college hang out there. One of them made fun of my T-shirt, which features a picture of Guy Fieri dressed up like the pope blessing a hot dog, so I punched him in the face. I shattered his glasses, driving many tiny shards of glass into his eyeballs, blinding him instantly. You might say it was quite the spectacle. No one called the cops. The blind Humanities major didn’t press charges. They didn’t even kick me out of the bar. I’ve lived in this town for all of my 46 years. I can do anything here.
There’s been a lot of talk lately about vaginas being magical. They do produce literal new humans, I guess that’s a pretty good trick. I’d say they’re at least on par with your standard clown car. If two clowns have sex, do they make a baby clown? It stands to reason. We had a pet hog like that, back on the farm. I mean it couldn’t think lying down. Vagina Hog. That was the name of my first band. Makes me misty-eyed thinking of how stupid and bad at music we were. Creatively, it was the best thing I’ve ever done. Our biggest hit was Fat Lady Sit on My Face. By “hit” I mean three of our friends would get up and chant, “sit on my face! sit on my face!” at our basement shows that always drew between seven and ten people. Chanting for that stupid song… I don’t really have the energy for sex anymore.
I, like everybody else, think times have never been worse. Hell in a handbasket, I’m telling you. Shit. Back in my day, you didn’t even get a handbasket to go to hell in. You got punched in the face for being a jerk. “Go to hell,” they told you, while you picked shards of glass out of your eyeballs. And now, what with all the pornography on the internet…cell phones…video games…kids don’t even go outside anymore. Fuck my life. First the Russian Revolution and now this? Fuck my life…please. Get it?
But then, I haven’t been entirely truthful, have I? I only lie to you to spare your feelings. If I told you what I really think of you, your skin would crawl off for the harshness of the language. But all that’s only partially true. I lie because it comes easily to me. Probably has something to do with my relationship with God. Or lack thereof. I never go see him anymore. He sits there alone in his chair and laments it. With Fox News playing at an ear-splitting volume. I’m sorry, I just can’t. It’s too pathetic. But that doesn’t make me a non-believer. I know the guilt will kill me in the end. Just rewards. Just dessert, please. Can they send you to hell for not participating in the customer rewards program? It’s the kind of shit I can’t be bothered with. I’m a very important person. I’m in a band. I’m published on the internet.
Oh hell, but I’m being a tad facetious. And if Tad were so cool, why didn’t they name an album…oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. You hate puns. You’re above all that. The fact is, I take literature very seriously. I’ve written entire books on the subject. Has anyone considered a tariff on death? I feel like that could solve all our problems. It would be a hell of a lot easier than enforcing strict adherence to proper processes and procedures. I should know.
Sigh…and now I feel I’m losing you. I guess it’s time to either talk Trump or talk shit about online lit. Those are the only things that get people excited anymore. I’m not the only one that’s tired of having sex. Rivers Cuomo drinks baby blood so his face stays looking like that. But isn’t that mostly what life is about? Placing outsize importance on things that are arbitrary and stupid, then going to lengths of no end to perfect your own unique strain of idiocy? People will stomp on a baby’s head just to make a buck. It’s disgusting. But then I’m not here to judge. I’ve been ripping off one of your own this whole time and you don’t even know who it is! Well, maybe Manny knows.
But really, I’m not here to tell anyone they shouldn’t live in the Marvel Universe. Or cosplay as a Disney princess. Or get a Disney-themed tattoo to the side of their muff. You never have to forfeit your self respect if you find a partner that’s dumber than you are. It’s all good. But you know, I wonder…(sound of keys clacking)…does Disney own Marvel?…oh Jesus Christ. It’s all so fucking insidious. It’s like that fucking movie.
But then what’s the point, eh? What are we doing here? Good Christ, you really haven’t been paying attention have you? You know, not everything I’ve written here has been total bullshit. The point is my boss is on vacation today. And it feels wonderful. All day I’ve had no one up my ass and, I know this is hard for most of you to fathom, but that feels wonderful. I wrote this in my work email. Because I needed something to do.