a telenovela

Do you want the best shit or not?

The best shit?

Then we’d have to write about food, Jim, unless you think there’s a relationship between, let’s just call them recreational drugs, Jim, and the Bristol Stool Scale, is that what it’s called?

There might be, how could I know that?

You just told us you never smoked weed before in your life, Jim, yet you think that may lead to people hearing voices?

I don’t know how people become voice hearers.

You fucking prick, Jim, just tell us when you started hearing voices and we’ll get to the part where we’re all entangled in an international drug war, Jim.

The most significant time, one might retell, would be during the summer of 2020.  Let me guess, somewhere around Fourth of July, Jim?

That would be around the time one might have accidentally stumbled across what might look like a recipe for communicating with a leprechaun or more than one leprechaun or something like that, which would be the best answer to give to a squirrel named Benjamin, if there were a squirrel in the room named Benjamin at all.  Now, let’s not worry about any squirrels rescuing us from this questionnaire, Jim.

The summer of 2020 wasn’t necessarily the first time, but, you might say, it was unimpeded, if you were to be trying to figure out a timeline here.

We’re not trying to figure out anything you’re not trying to figure out.

Why can’t you just tell us?

There were times before?

Tell us that, that there were times before.

I can do that.  I can tell you whatever you want to hear.

Thanks, Jim, tell us anything we want to hear.

Thank you, too.

Is that what we want to hear?

I’d think so, maybe I’d even hope so.

There we are, Jim.

No, there you are.

No, we’re not, Jim, we’re just like you too.

Ya, me too, my fucking ass right now.

You want me to #metoo you in the ass?

Nope, I don’t want anything to do with hashtags at all.

That’s a hashtag, Jim, that’s a hashtag.

The “nigga” silent on that one?

This nigga’s always silent on that one.

That silence speaks for itself, Jim.

No, it doesn’t.

Fuck you too, Jim, fuck you two.

You know that if there’s definitely two then why not three?

We know about them too.

Quantum mechanics?  It might be, Jim, it might be.

Full-time voice-hearing, for Jims Flannery, or, one might argue, the birth of Jim Flannerys, may not have occurred until early 2021.

Then what the fuck happened before that?

The world may never know.

Why would we care about a Presidential candidate whose international policy were led by his alleged drug dealings in foreign nations if those very drugs didn’t in some way have a connection to the voices in his or her head?

I’d ask you the same question if I had that much thyme.