A Great Day For Aphasia
I think what I want, but I am not heard. I’m finally awake in thought, but I’m trapped inside a malfunctioning body with the voice of a cretin. What a delinquent team we make. The irony is spectacular.
Aphasia, dumb ass. Get it right. The word is aphasia. A-pha-sia.
A-flu-shot! I have a flu shot!
C’mon, man. We sound like we just got off the damn short bus. Everyone is staring and laughing at us. Make it work. Make the mouth say the things we want to say. How hard can it be? We know how to make our mouth move. We know what kind of thoughts and sounds should come out of it. Just fucking do it!
Can I…hrmmmm…piss in your water? I would like piss in your water. Yes. This I want.
What?! They’re really going to think we’re out of our minds now. Who wants piss in their water. Fuck, man. We need to piss so bad. Let’s just go look for the restroom before they call security on our ass.
I am so tired of all the incredulous stares with their mocking judgement. Their stares are impossibly suffocating and pin my spirit down on the spit ridden ground. It’s not my fault I’m like this. It’s not my fault a fucking drunk driver ran through the intersection I was walking through, throwing me twenty feet into the air to land head first. Fuck that guy. They never even caught him because he drove off like a cowardly dog running off with its shit stained tail between its legs. I spent three months in the hospital warding off the death spirits with mental hexes and wizardry. I thought that was the most difficult part. To fight my coma and make my way back to the land of the living so that I could get back to my life.
I had epic kung fu fights in my mind as I sailed from roof top to roof top battling shadow ninjas whose nasty mouths were filled with poisoned, serrated teeth that they plucked and threw at me like ninja stars. I dodged and weaved in aerial maneuvers that would make a nifty Cirque Du Soleil act. When I finally got to the temple of Wake The Fuck Up, I battled like Bruce Lee in Game of Death, making my way up each flight of stairs to face the boss occupying each level.
There was Sweet Cheek the goblin made of candy corns who fought with needles filled with saccharine syrup. He tried to kill me with diabetes. Diabetes! What the fuck? I got past that guy with the Toothbrush of Triumph. Don’t ask.
Then there was Black Anaconda. Let’s just say that battle was not pleasant in the stay away from my asshole with your rape stick kind of unpleasant. Fuck that guy. Fuck him with all the fucks in the world. I never actually killed him, but let’s just say he’s a tangled mess.
Suck A Bus wasn’t too bad. She was sexy as hell except when she transformed into a tentacled gaping chasm of man-eating teeth. I sure as shit never saw that coming. I thought I just needed to give her some of my patented Steven Chan sweet talk, but noooo she had to go all Japanese hentai on my ass. I actually didn’t fight her. I just ended up telling her about Black Anaconda down below and she slithered away. Those two were meant for each other.
The worst was Pooccini. That guy was a hot mess with his karaoke style opera. Imagine William Hung drunk out of his mind singing La Bohéme and then imagine William Hung drunk out of his mind singing La Bohéme while flinging his shit at you like a macaque monkey. Yeeeeeah. I had to get really creative with that one by plugging both his mouth and poop hole with my fists until he filled up with his own gasses and exploded. I never want to hear opera ever again. *shudder*
Fortunately, that was the worst of it in my unconscious land of crazy. When I got to the top of the temple all I had to do was plug in the alarm clock sitting in the middle of the room and BAM! I woke out of my coma.
Three months after that I was up and walking around, but instead of being suave Steven Chan darling of San Francisco General Hospital, I had become word-fumbling, dip shit swamp mouth Steven Tongue-Tied. Check this out. Who’s the president of the United States?
Robert Downey, Jr.!
*sigh* My speech therapist says I’m making great progress but she doesn’t know how long it will ultimately take to get back to normal. It could be months. It could be years. It could be never. Well, at least she’s hot, but I can’t even tell her that because every time I do all that comes out is.
I want suck titties!
I’m pretty sure she knows I have the hots for her. I’m also pretty sure she and I will never happen. I’m double also sure that I’m never going to get laid again. At least, not while I’m Mr. Suck Titties anti-smooth operator.
Despite my current inability to fully connect my thoughts with spoken word, I do have to admit it’s far better than that first year when all that came out of me was an endless stream of uh’s, hmm’s, and nonsensical noise. If I was hungry, all I could do to communicate it to the nurse was to open and close my mouth with that disgusting tongue smacking that people do when they’re missing teeth. Getting the right television channel on was an act in futility. I still couldn’t nod or shake my head, so all I could do was try to make one “Ruurrrhhrhrrhr” louder than another “Ruurrrhhrhrrhr” to signal which channel I wanted the nurse to stop on. If I had to go to the bathroom? Just fart.
Eventually, something clicked in my brain and I was able to start muttering incoherent strings of words. The first words I said?
Because I wanted chicken chow mein and I was horny as hell. You try laying around all day eating shitty hospital food and getting all worked up when your nurse has to help you clean your genitals during bath time without the decency of giving you a happy ending hand job. Vulgar and indecent thought? Yes. Still horny? Fucking hell yeah.
The fifty year old nurse who was there when I said my first words must have thought I was some kind of sick bestiality pervert. Fortunately, the doctor was able to diagnose that I had expressive aphasia and didn’t report me as some kind of animal molesting freak.
Two years of intensive speech therapy later and I find myself at the grocery store asking to piss in their water because I still can’t say the word restroom. Shit. Here comes their security. They’re asking me to turn around and get out of the store. I really need to take a mad piss. C’mon. Do your best to tell them why you’re really here. You can do it!
I want to give you my yellow rain Mr. Bacon Wrap.
Aaaand here come the handcuffs. Fuck my life.
– Rascally Rabbit
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