Left Of Sean

**

ViaLula:  I need a hobby.

Left Of Sean:  I have several suggestions.

ViaLula:  They have to be cheap.

Left Of Sean:  Professional Blowjob Girl.

ViaLula:  Oh hell no!

Left Of Sean:  That’s right.  You’re over 40. You don’t give blowjobs any more.

ViaLula:  Okay, rethink.  I said I need a hobby.  If I am going to do those things, then I’m going to get paid and therefore it’s not a hobby.

Left Of Sean:  Ok, hand jobs?  You can do them for free.  I’ll let you practice on me so you can hone your skills.  Then, we could go to the International Hand & Blow Job Competition in Copenhagen.

ViaLula:  You’re insane.

Left Of Sean:  You’re just now figuring that out?

ViaLula:  Dude, I am NOT wanting to be a whore for my hobby.

Left Of Sean:  You wouldn’t be a whore.  You’d be a slut.  Whore’s charge.  Sluts are free.

{Some time later…}

Left Of Sean:  ViaLula?  Are you there?

{Some more time later…}

Left Of Sean:  I guess you’re practicing on someone else.  Talk to you tomorrow…..and by the way, I don’t want to shake hands with you ever again!

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Ohhh, ViaLula!  What would I do without you?

*************

ViaLula:  Oh god I need coffee

Left Of Sean:  Yeah, you’re kind of dull until you get your coffee in the morning.  Why don’t you stop on the way to work?  I’ll be happy to buy you coffee.  We could be the old people who meet at the diner for coffee before work…or farm chores….or our morning nap!

ViaLula:  I’ll bring you my grandpa’s cane.

Left Of Sean:  ….and I could clean my dentures in the water glass.

ViaLula:  ewww, that’s gross.  I think I might hurl now.

Left Of Sean:  Does that mean you won’t help me out to the car when we’re done with coffee?  Remember, I need a cane.  I could fall.  I could sue you for, like, abandonment of the old and mentally incompetent.

ViaLula:  I will help you to the car, just don’t leave your dentures in a glass on our table.

Left Of Sean:  Hell no!  Then I’d have to ‘gum’ everything.  I need those dentures…and they’re freakin’ expensive; unless I get the ones made out of wood.

ViaLula:  Like George Washington?

Left Of Sean:  Sure, you can compare me to a great president.

ViaLula:  But you’re not great…..or a president!

Left Of Sean:  Hey, stop abusing the elderly.

ViaLula:  You’re a mess.

Left Of Sean:  Will you help me change my diaper too?

ViaLula:  Ok, I’m done.

Left Of Sean:  Wait, it really smells and it’s kind of squishy.

ViaLula:  That’s just gross.  Stop it!

Left Of Sean:  “Help, I’ve fallen and can’t find my dentures!”

ViaLula:  I swear I’m going to stop talking to you.

Left Of Sean: I think I broke my hip.  Isn’t that what old people do?  They’re always getting hip replacements or colostomy bags or something.

ViaLula: Did you eat a lot of paint as a child?

Left Of Sean: …….maybe.  Don’t worry, I always used a napkin and washed it down with Mineral Spirits so it wouldn’t stick.

ViaLula: That explains SO much.

Left Of Sean: ……what were we talking about?

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Oh sweet ViaLula, will you never learn?

***********

ViaLula:  Good Morning

Left Of Sean:  Good morning. God, this weekend was a blast.  I can’t believe you threw up all over the bass player.  Man he was pissed. Did you ever get your panties back?

ViaLula:  WTF?  You know I did not do that. Stop lying.

Left Of Sean:  Yeah, you really shouldn’t have lied to him about your age.  I can’t believe he bought you as a 25 year old.

ViaLula:  You’re insane.

Left Of Sean:  I can see how he would think that.  After all, you were so drunk and you totally lied to him about that rash.

ViaLula:  I don’t have a fucking rash.  You’re such a dick.  Stop telling lies about me.  I swear I’m gonna smack you!

Left Of Sean:  Once, when I was playing in a band, this girl ran up to the stage and grabbed my crotch right in the middle of my solo.

ViaLula:  What does that have to do with anything?

Left Of Sean:  Oh, that’s right.  You were really drunk and probably don’t remember.

ViaLula:  I wasn’t that drunk.  And you’re making stuff up anyway.  I don’t believe you.

Left Of Sean:  Hey I found that vibrator you lost in my car.

ViaLula:  I swear, I’m not talking to you any more.

Left Of Sean:  That’s good.  We’ll play it that way.  We don’t want to invite any suspicion.

ViaLula:  Good bye.  Stop talking to me.

Left Of Sean:  Exactly.

ViaLula:  STOP!

Left Of Sean:  Can you help me with MY rash?

ViaLula:  I hate you….

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Each morning my friend ViaLula (not her real name) sends me an instant message when she gets to work to tell me good morning.  I use that opportunity to completely throw her off track and attempt to make her laugh.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

But I have fun doing it…

ViaLula has a family member in the hospital.  Last night we went to Starbucks to just kind of get away and take her mind off the issue.

IM transcript:

ViaLula:  Good Morning. Thanks for hanging out with me last night.

Left Of Sean:  No problem.  I was a little worried about having sex in that Starbucks, but once we started I really quite enjoyed the crowd.  I love hearing all the cheers.  And when the girls started chanting “pump, pump, pump” my adrenaline really took off.

Too bad they called the police.  Nothing will screw up a nice rowdy bout of love making like the cops.  I think we have to get a permit or something next time.

ViaLula:  You’re retarded!

Left Of Sean:  I prefer the term “mentally susceptible” to “retarded.”  Once, when I was a child, my friends and I were playing Pony Whacker. That’s where you put your head behind the pony and your buddy smacks its balls until it kicks you in the head.  It’s a lot of fun.  Unfortunately I have permanent brain damage.

ViaLula:  OMG, I just spit up my coffee.

Left Of Sean:  Yes, spitting up is a side effect of Pony Whacker.

ViaLula:  “I” spit up.  Not you, tard!

Left Of Sean:  Unfortunately I do not have the ability to discern the difference between you spitting up and me spitting up.  Once I was in a restaurant and saw a guy choking.  I thought it was me and started screaming for someone to do the Heimlich on me but no one came to my rescue.  I sued the restaurant.  I lost but I think I made my point.

ViaLula:  Which is?

Left Of Sean:  Which is what?

ViaLula:  What was your point?

Left Of Sean:  Yes, I know how to point.  You extend your finger (either one, left of right) at the object you want to reference.

ViaLula:  I’m sick of talking to you.

Left Of Sean:  Did I do something wrong?  Was the sex not good last night?

ViaLula:  OMG, stop.  We did NOT have sex last night.

Left Of Sean:  Then why did I spend the night in the police station?

ViaLula:  I have no idea.

Left Of Sean:  So you have memory loss too?

ViaLula:  Goodbye!!!!

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One day I was walking down the street and came across a guy who was about to kill himself.  I screamed, “WAIT!  Don’t do it! I need time to reload my film!!”

The guy was such an asshole.  He looked at me and said, “buy a fucking digital camera, Tard!”

“I would,” I screamed, “but film has such a warm quality I just don’t want to give up.  I can just imagine the deep tones of the rope and the shadows it will cast around your neck.”

“I see your point.  Ok, hurry up.  I don’t have all day.”  He was such an impatient asshole.

So after we argued for almost three hours about f/stop and shutter speed, I finally got the camera set up.  But then some lady came up behind us and said that it would be better if we could move into a spot with a little more sun.  I agreed.  It would cast a beautiful bright glare behind the rope.  And once his legs stopped flailing, the rays would shine through them like death rays….oops, pardon the pun.

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