My favorite job was being a pizza boy. I liked making cash. Everyday taking home money. Cool people, I met. The coolest people I met at pizza places. Also, very relaxed setting. Like if it wasn’t busy, I could bullshit around with everyone or I could just go to my car and do something. For example, write poems. And I got to listen to music all the time. It was good. I had some car issues so I was no longer able to be a beloved pizza boy. But I liked being a pizza boy. Let the record show.
A long time ago I was a writer for the Onion. I was an intern. Like, a guy who they were just testing out. I wrote by the name Jenkins Gallager. Look me up. It’s all facts.
Anyway, after three months they said I was too much. Too strong is your writing, they said. Too aggressive. You need to tone it down a bit.
But I did not like that. Because they kept revising it and telling me to make it more PG, basically. I don’t do PG, I told them. I don’t even do PG-13. R at minimum. You know what I’m saying?
Anyway, I decided to start my own website after that.
He. Mr. Marketer: get up whore! And market the products. Hurry up. We have deadlines to meet.
But sir, I am so tired, my sir.
Mr. Marketer: get up whore! Get up!
*On his phone he plays the sound of a whiplash*
Mr. Marketer: whore, get up! Get up! Get up! Get up!
Sir, I am sorry, sir. I am so …
Mr. Marketer: Whore? Whore? Someone call an ambulance this whore just passed out.
Assistant #1: sir you have to call a special ambulance for whores. It’s called the Whore Ambulance.
Mr. Marketer: Then call the Whore Ambulance then! What the hell are you waiting for?!
They called me
We want you to teach at Harvard
Whatever. It’ll be your class. It’s your choice.
Really? Ok. Give me but a fortnight. I have to talk it over with my family.
5 minutes later…
*I pick up the rotary phone*
Ok. You’re gonna get a call from NYU. Don’t answer it. They’re gonna make you a huge offer. Bigger than ours! But you see, it won’t come with the same prestige.
Well…I can’t pay the bills with prestige, dear. That’s the problem.
Wait I think that’s them.
No wait! Don-
Jose? 5 million dollars. Two semesters. You in or out?
Ok. I’m emailing you a plane ticket right now. We need you to fly out by tomorrow.
I know what I got. I don’t need to brag about it
Boy do I like to write in a style that’s grand
I think I’m beginning to understand
That I’ll be damned if I don’t write
Even tho I woke to my computer screen flashing
My uncle was a construction worker
I say “was” because he died so he can no longer be a construction worker
But when he was a construction worker he constructed little mechanical goats
So I guess he was more like an engineer
My uncle was an engineer
I say “was” because he died so he can no longer be an engineer
I feel like I’m creative enough and savvy enough to write commercials…Even better than the ones I see airing. I just need to get a start somewhere. Where can I go to help people come up with interesting commercials?
That’s what I’m looking up right now.