This Is a Book - Demetri Martin [46]
I am a fierce competitor. During board games, I destroy my enemies completely or argue with them until they don’t want to play anymore.
If you come at me in the wild, be warned. You will be outmatched. I have been known to communicate with animals who have twice my intelligence and then really agitate them.
I can make any doctor go crazy, just by asking him a series of basically identical questions, each with slightly different wording, about the thing on my back.
Dentists fear me, because while they are focusing on my teeth, I am focusing on their crotch.
I can kill someone’s cat with a yo-yo, and probably on purpose too.
I am versatile. I can work with or without a sidekick. I can even work against a sidekick. Villains fear me because I am unpredictable and broccoli. See what I mean?
My weaknesses are few. I am sometimes too strong, like when I’m hugging a loud child or shaking the hand of an ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend. I have been told that I don’t know my own strength by more than one arts and crafts teacher. My only real weakness is lava—and that’s only before it cools. Also, I have some severe food allergies.
I am helpful and I am honest. If I see an old lady trying to cross a street, I will tell her she is old. I very rarely steal anything. And if I do, it’s only because I know I could probably find a use for it eventually.
I can run fast. How fast? Why don’t you ask again, and raise your voice this time, because now I’m way over here.
My vision is impeccable. I can see through the clothes of anyone who is wearing something white who I’ve just sprayed with water.
I have a strong sense of justice, especially when someone tries to cut in front of me in line or break up with me.
When it comes to hearing, mine is legendary. I can become self-conscious about what two people are saying about me from the other side of a party. And when I can’t hear, I read their lips or go over and ask them what they were saying.
I am immune to poison, unless I ingest it; but even then, I put up a pretty impressive fight.
Also, my swimming has been described as “very disturbing.”
/div> And if we’re eating potato chips, good luck keeping up with me.
Finally, I am a bleeder. So, if you still think you want to fight me, why don’t you consider the mess you’re going to make.
That’s what I thought.
Human Cannonball Occupational Hazards
Getting into the cannon after somebody has left a cannonball in there and then getting shot point-blank with the cannonball and falling out of the front of the cannon.
Getting shot into the cannon (due to backfire).
Loss of hearing and/or entire body.
Inability to enjoy movies about pirates or old sea battles.
Getting shot out of the cannon and then colliding, in mid air, with another human cannonball who was shot out of a nearby cannon.
Recurring, being-shot-out-of-a-cannon night terrors.
After climbing into cannon, helmet gets stuck in the shaft of cannon. The cannon fires and shoots entire body into helmet.
The cannon won’t fire; while looking inside to see what is wrong with it, the cannon fires and shoots head off of body.
Ennui.
Eulogy
Rod. What can you say about Rod? He was one of a kind. He was so full of life. And even though he didn’t have a very long life, he totally squeezed everything he could out of the time he had. I mean, just think about how many times he stayed out all night clubbing.
Rod was one of my best friends. He was one of my “boys.” He was my “homie,” my “dawg,” my “nigga”… not literally, of course, because he was white, like me. We used to call each other that just as a joke. And, man, it was funny every time.
Rod might have been white but he had a heart of gold, both in the sense of being a good guy and in the sense that he had that big gold heart that he used to wear with his other bling whenever he went out. Man, Rod had some great gold chains. If you saw him out at a club or fighting somebody in a parking lot, you’d think he was a millionaire or a rapper, or both. That was Rod. That was how he rolled. You know, Rod