Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Local Man Wants To Do Everything

As children, our minds become quickly crammed with limitless possibility.  We believe we can do anything with enough elbow grease and tit milk.  As we grow older, life happens.  By "happens", we mean it grabs you by the cheek skin and repeatedly rams a titanium fist into your lower abdomen until every shred of aspiration seeps out of your gaping wounds.

Anyone else wanna kick this guy?

While the rest of us might crumble beneath the unyielding, hydraulically-powered deathtrap called existence, one man has remained untouched by this world's cruel touch.  Phillip Nebb has not lost sight of the horizon.   Phillip Nebb wants to be everything when he grows up.  Strangely enough, Phil is already 37 years old.

"I'm just trying to keep my options open," said Phil, sitting on his porch whittling a stick into a thinner, smoother stick.  "I don't want to rush into anything because I have so much potential."  Psychologists blame Phillip's procrastination on his parents babying him as a child.  They believe he received entirely too much love, attention and support growing up, resulting in him being a self-confident, optimistic lollygagger.

He's walkin' on sunshine. We're treading on ground up diapers and soggy tortilla chips.

During his infancy, Phillip was a social butterfly.  "He always wanted to know what other kids were doing, then go do it himself," remembered Phil's father, Chebb Nebb, while burying his freshly deceased wife's headless body.  "I always knew that boy could do damn near anything.  It's a shame he wound up doing jack shit, but y'know.  Fug it."

Blossoming into a young man, Phillip discovered that of all the professions he had learned about, he wanted to be a fireman more than anything.  For show and tell, he brought in a hose.  He couldn't imagine doing anything else.  Extinguishing flames was his calling.  Something about saving lives and playing cards with a bunch of sexy dudes really resonated with him.

Firemen make love like they put out fires: hot, suffocating, and while wielding an axe. 

Soon, little Phil's room was filled with toy firefighting gear and memorabilia.  He even got an official Ash and Widow Tear Stained Cloth from the online Tragedy Collector's Collection.  One afternoon while watching his favorite movie, Fiery Hole: What If The Grand Canyon Was Filled With Fire?, he took notice of the strange cars rushing alongside the firetrucks.  They were white and boxy with backwards letters.  They were majestic.  From that moment on, Phil wanted nothing more than to become an ambulance driver. 

A true martyr.


Phil began taking EMT classes, practicing CPR on his stuffed animals and even painted his first car like an ambulance.  He would pick up gunshot victims whenever he got the chance.  One day while letting a drug addict come down from a heroin overdose in his trunk, Phil got pulled over.  

The cop strolled over, tapped on the window and commanded with a voice full of such authority that Phil couldn't contain his elation.  He began weeping, exclaiming how he had "found his true purpose".  Upon exiting the vehicle and attempting to hug the officer, he was beaten within an inch of his life and spent a night behind bars with a particularly handsy zookeeper.  It was settled.  Phillip would dedicate the rest of his entire life to becoming the most justice-glazed policeman to ever uphold the law.

The law has always been good to us.  They better keep it up if they ever want to find Deputies Burk and Shaw.

Strangely enough, after completing basic training with flying colors, Phillip removed himself from the program, much to the surprise of his fellow cadets.  "That boy showed promise I haven't seen in ages," reported a flabbergasted Deputy Dan Dank.  "Right from the get-go, Nebb knew exactly how to ignore basic human rights while maintaining an air of professionalim.  Not to mention the kid could run right through a bunch of tires like they were nothing."  

A gun and a degree await.

Years went by and Phillip drifted through various careers.  Mailman, milkman, businessman, macho man.  Rockstar, astronaut, athlete and most recently, a philosopher.  "All those other jobs...they weren't for me," admitted Phillip while staring blankly out his bedroom window.  "I'm sure that this is what I want to be doing.  Essentially what I do is sit around and think all day.  I think about stuff I see, like on TV or whatever.  Um, just the other day I noticed that whenever I watch a sitcom, I laugh at the same time that those other people laugh.  Coincidence?  Not a chance."

After only a few short weeks, those close to Phillip have already noticed signs of his interest waning.  "He claims to be this great mind of our generation, but then I catch him leaving the faucet on while brushing his teeth," said a mustachioed voyeur that lives next door.  "Who is that helping?  God knows it's not the environment.  And when I was picking through his trash the other day I found an unsettling amount of expired coupons.  If he's so wise, he'd take advantage of those deals."


Use these scissors to get 100% off your next suicide!

Until Phillip can finally settle on one goddam way of life, it appears he will continue flip-flopping between interests, hobbies, infatuations and unpaid internships.  "My five year plan is this," revealed Phillip to our eager, lubed up ears.  "I figure I'll dabble, tinker and basically dick around.  If I can't find what profession is right for me, I'm going to do nothing.  At all.  Ever again."

Strange Times wishes Mr. Nebb well in his pursuit of contributing nothing to the world whatsoever.  It has worked out well for us.  We can only hope that he stops breathing as well.

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