Stalemate

by michaelcahill

What Happened Here? Contest Winner

"She's dead, you know..."

"Yeah. Duh, Braniac, like I can take in the visuals myself. I warned her. It says it right on the box, drop-dead gorgeous hair color. Does she listen?"

"No?"

"It's a rectoral question, nimrod. You don't answer it."

"Why ask it then?"

"Never mind, there would be no way to gesticulate to an axiom of mentalness of your capaaaaaacitor. We gotta do something."

"Dude, I got it! How bout Vanish. We could just make her disappear and stuff."

"Lame, Vanish is just a name. That isn’t what it does. That would just remove pee stains from her. That's for cleaning toilets, fool."

"Oh, oh… like a good neighbor State Farm is there!"

"What is this? You have a policy with us?"

"Sorry, my friend, lame-o here doesn't understand the intrinsicals of underwearing and insurance. But, since you're here, dude, we got this dead chick here and we don't know how to expose of her."

"She's not dead. She's breathing."

"WHOOOOO HOOOOOOO! I knew it bro. State Farm all the way! I knew they'd come through. They can do anything."

"Bro, I've got to throw it up to you. I never would have thought of it, not having a policy and all. Thank you, State Farm dude."

"Well, I didn't really… oh hell, never mind. You're welcome, bro. Could you send me back now?"

"Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there."

"In Vicki's closet!"

"Susan, you were dead. The State Farm dude saved you. I told you about that hair color."

"What? What are you fools talking about?"

"Read my mouth while it is moving, you were dead, girl. The State Farm dude rescutusitated you just by showing up. You killed yourself with the hair dye."

"You idiot. I was taking a nap. You're an imbecile. Hair dye?"

"Hello, DROP DEAD gorgeous hair color? Does that ring a bell, Susie von Know Nuthin?"

"Hey, Bradley, President of Brain Deadlandia, you're eating fish and chips, so there's that whole theory down the tubes. Brain food? Maybe if your brain is in your buttocks capaaaaacitor."

"What sense does that make?"

"See? My point exactly."

"Well, me and Brainiac saw it go down, so we know the truth. Now that you’re alive and stuff, do you want to catch that movie?"

"Wait… Transmission coming in. Yes, Superioria, castration of the little one. Ummm hmmmm. Oscar Meyer. Yes. Don't argue price… okay. Distract him… okay. Bradley, what's at the end of a circle?"

"Whoa. The end of a circle?"

"Braniac… get the filet knife from the kitchen and be casual about it. I don't want Bradley to know I'm going to castrate him and negotiate with Oscar Meyer."

"Like, there is no end… it just keeps going… like in a… ummmm… circle."

"Bradley, you don't have to worry about an answer."

"Uh? An answer to what? Dude, do you think being dead had an effect on her brain and stuff? Oh, snap! I could be smarter than her now. That means the tables would be a different color. She'd be the one eating the worm. I'd be the early bird catching her for a change. I'd be a bird in the hand and she'd… "

"Fool. She was still smarter than you when she was dead! What are you talkin' bout home stump? I was thinking, if Flavius Maximus were to become immortal and develop restless leg syndrome, how satisfying an existence could it possibly be? I mean, don't you think that immortality is contingent on the quality of life just as much if not more than it is in juxtaposition with the life of a mortal individual. For God's sake, if you are the most unlucky man that ever lived, how fortunate are you to live forever. Are you not envious of the man that did it all in the grandest style for five years in a row? In that case, you have completely taken time and made it moot. Time itself is not a factor in anything. Only quality is a factor. The amount of quality calculated in a cumulative basis determines the level of one's happiness. Well, I believe we were discussing a visit to the local cinema."

"Huh?"

"I said, like are we going to the flick dude?"

"Ask her, she's the genius corpse from the grave come back to rule of the mindless zombie that can't complete a… uh… "

"I think he means yes."

"Susan? You aren't really going to make that deal with Oscar Meyer are you?"

"Well, Bradley, if I were to tell you then I would lose control over you. I'm not willing to do that. I wouldn't take a nap around me if I were you. Braniac here is money hungry. You don't think I can't get him to turn his head for a piece of the pie?"

"Yea. He's got a sweet tooth all right. I bought a Kit Kat bar and he ate both halves. It blew my mind into a thousand million pieces. I needed a steam shovel to scoop my brain up off the ground and put it into the landfill dreamed up by my dog in a dream he had about eating all the cats in the world and then filling up the Grand Canyon with dog poop. Can you imagine that? My brain mixed up in all that dog poop? It would be like, which part is poop and which part is brain? It makes you think about what it all means, ya know? Why are we here if that is all we have to look forward to?"

"Do you realize that if you were to scoop up an appropriate measure of that concoction and insert it in your cranium that you would literally have what everyone accuses you of having for brains?"

"Hey, we're gonna have to forget that flick. We're needed on the Senate floor. We have to vote against something."

"Against what?"

"Progress."

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