We’ve all been there. He’s the total package. He has a Ford Fusion, both eyes, and a really, really long restraining order from the local Safeway. You met in a tunnel, and now he’s your everything. He’s not a bad influence, per se, but the entropy of the universe is definitely more chaotic when he’s around. He’s the sort of person to sweep you off your feet but he does it with a spin kick. It would be nice if your parents liked him. It might even be nice if they disliked him. But they invite him to your house even when you’re not there, and that’s a bit concerning. This doesn’t bother you; he’s amazing. He’s passionate, wild, and he smells like oatmeal. Things are peachy.
Or at least they would be if the music would stop. Let’s not belabor the point, it’s creepy, and it’s an issue. It’s not the fact that apparently your life has a soundtrack that only you can hear, it’s what that soundtrack consists of. The sporadic pizzicato strings punctuate a steadily rising, steadily crescendoing background of french horns and woodwinds, timpanis and cymbals. It’s like a psychological horror trailer boinked Inception. It’s not constant, but it’s getting more frequent, and if music could get physically closer it would be doing that too.
So what do you do? Fuck if I know, get earplugs or something lol that sounds like it’s not my problem. If you have a pressing question write us at Fish Rap Live PO Box something and there’s probably an address too but who knows, I don’t get paid for this. Standard rates apply.
Lots of Love,