Tragically Fine

James Tronk: James finds out what a resolution is. (part III of the James Tronk Trilogy)

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Saturday, August 14, 2010 11:46 PM

To view part I Click Here
To view part II Click Here
I waited for the universe to spring me from the bondage which had me joined to this in vows stronger than in normal-person matrimony. If not to make matters worse, the aspen tree would not stop calling me racially-based names. I resent anyone or anything, for that matter, calling me anything other than my list of acceptable names that I created and patented when I was 17. Turns out that waiting for rescue doesn't do crap, even when you are the protagonist of your own story. Apparently the hero has to figure all this out on their own and get to safety by themselves. Stupid climax. My heroic escape goes as follows:

       It began with my insanity level bursting high above the advertised acceptable amount. I began to see things, such as, myself as a large two dimensional smiley emoticon slowly being eaten by a pear. It was not the prettiest sight, I actually wish I had not seen it at all. However, wishing and actual occurrences of events are like unrelated half-cousins, not alike in the slightest, but somehow connected by a long stream of web-like diagrams and crooked family trees. Just imagine a family tree so crooked that on occasion various relatives fall off the tree altogether. Now, if you have imagined that, you can comprehend the relationship between wishing and reality. I had spoken to myself repeatedly about this matter, discussing it at length, because that's what you do while requesting an interlude of tango dancing with your hot date, insanity. The trees also occasionally chimed in by saying things like, "after a long and well thought out vote, we declare you metaphysically mental." What this dramatic, interpersonal monologue has to do with my heroic escape? I haven't a clue, In my defense I am a bit lonely out here and wish for someone to talk to. I'll get on with it.
       As I was whimpering on about my insanity to the unseen stenographer capturing the very story that you are reading, the ape men had returned. They surrounded me, setting up Coleman brand camping chairs, and doing unspeakable things that I am now going to tell you about. They first initiated the session of torture with half-baked conspiracy stories about the Nixon administration, that lasted seven hours, twenty eight minutes, twelve seconds. They then moved on to viral videos of hyperactive cats on Youtube, that lasted for X amount of hours. I hope to paint you a picture of what it sounds like when a group of ape men laugh hysterically at utter nonsense, like viral videos. Picture yourself placing a wrench in a garbage disposal made of half-breed Chihuahuas in an air-tight, noise enhancing coke bottle, all on medium-high speed settings. And that is what I experienced as the cat kept running into the wall and the groupish gathering of ape men slipping quickly into fits of laughter. After that horror fest was over, they finished off by giving me an ape-man style manicure, pedicure, nosicure, and brainicure. The pain! The beauty! The horror!
        I was out of options like a cop out of parking ticket forms. So, I did what any ninety percent crazy person would do, I told a story to the ape men.
"Once upon two times, there lived a man and his evil-twin, but they lived in two separate universes. They hated each other, but only wanted to love everyone, including each other....."

       I feel as though I should explain what happened in the part in my story that goes "...." You may be led to believe that it signifies the continuation of the story. In truth, it represents the exact moment that all of the ape men fell asleep, deeply, deeply asleep. I wanted so badly, for the grand total time of two halves of a second, to press repeat on the "cat and wall" video just so I could save face with the hairy men. After weighing my options I summed up that the option: "escaping" may have lost the Popularity vote in the option election*, but won in the favor of the Electoral college. So, I clearly went with escaping. Lucky for me, one of the ape man had passed out right onto my face, so I could easily use his teeth to saw through the rope that held me prisoner. It worked. I was free. But, the ape men began to wake! Millions of thoughts rushed into my mind, so many that I had to open up the pressure release valve on the back of my well toned neck. I lost a few ideas that leaked out of my orifices in my face. They were probably the good ones too. I went with plan D, version 4.2 Home and Office edition 2010, or in other words running like Jello would in an all you can eat buffet, if it were given the opportunity.
       I had to find Isaac, and his GPS tracking sticker that I taped to the back of his cornea had been removed. I eventually did find him, in the mess hall.
"This is no time to be eating, Isaaaaaaaaaaa!? Whoa!"
I was not staring at Isaac...
I was staring at Isaac.
Dang. I was staring at Isaac.
In the middle of the room lied a picnic table bent in half at a ninety degree angle. Sitting there, using it as a seat was Isaac Apple. He weighed in this moment 1,248 pounds. It seems they had brainwashed him to eat continuously. Isaac was strapped up to thousands of different machines of every type of color, race, gender, political affiliation you could ever imagine. It took me a few several dozen minutes to pull them all out of his beastly warehouse of a body. How in Heaven's waiting room was I going to get Isaac out of this building? At that moment, the herd of men apes intruded heavily into the mess hall. What happened next surprised everyone, mostly Isaac even though he would never admit it. He ate them. He ate them all.
"Wow, great work Hostess." I said with my mouth open wide enough to say that sentence.
"MEhfhhherrr!" He could only respond in gurgles and blurphs (statements that are not recognized by any language in existence)
I used my quick thinking skills to strap a leather saddle on his back and kick my heels into his side. The latter of the two did absolutely nothing, but he moved. He ate through the wall and through the forest as well.
Who would have thought that we were only thirty-five feet away from the international airport? Convenient was that airport's middle name. Too bad we had to buy out seven seats to fit my new partner, Shamu's obese cousin Shamtwo. And they gave me, in order to "stick it to the man", a seat in the direct middle of Isaac's six personal seats. And then approved a new state law that prohibits the swapping of any pre-assigned seating. I passed out within the first .012 seconds of the flight.
I woke up three days later tied to another tree, "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!!"

                                                                   THE END
                                Importedly,
                                                      Kyle
*option election: An election taken in a small Podunk town in Iowa where six people have the right to vote.