Meeting You

I know what you're thinking.

"Gee whiz, I wish I could meet that Ramk guy."

I get that a lot.

Hold on. Don't be thinkin' stuff like that too quickly. You don't even know me. I could have horns, breath fire, sport a third leg or smell like oysters. You should be more careful. I won't always be around to get you out of trouble.

You may be able to tell who I am by the things I yell in the subway. If someone isn't holding onto one of the hand rails or stripper poles, I can't keep myself from screaming at them: "HOLD ON OR YOU'RE GONNA FALL". I don't think people really mind it, except for babies. Babies get so upset when people yell at them.

a link*

Don't worry, I want to meet you too. But, how is that ever going to happen? All you are is a faceless internet surfer who happened to catch the wave headed in my direction. Hang ten. I'm going to the beach bar to get a drink with an umbrella in it.

Maybe I should set up a live video site. That way we could meet and you wouldn't be exposed to my musk.

Peace to Kyrgyzstan.


*brought to you by the good people of P.D.R. Laos.