1. Deflate your favorite ’80s wrestler and wave him like a sweaty flag from the top of the Gateway Arch. Go on.
2. Using the wormhole in your dog’s tapeworm, travel back in time and force Francis Scott Key at gunpoint to make each stanza of the Star-Spangled Banner begin with “be-otch.” Tickle Stalin’s mustache on your way back.
3. Wearing all denim, and playing Peter Gabriel’s Us on a Sanyo boom box at precisely 109dB, freebase an entire jar of Miracle Whip in the parking lot of the nearest police station. It is of the utmost importance that you maintain a pleasant demeanor while doing this.
4. Open a stand at your local farmer’s market, but sell nothing. Just cry and cry and cry and
I ask myself which Final Fantasy character I’d least like to be stuck on an elevator with. Would the answer change if the elevator were plunging in freefall from 109 stories? What if it were in Portugal? Piers Morgan waits silently as I nervously fumble with my burgundy clip-on necktie. I hope he doesn’t know where I was fifteen minutes earlier…
Adrift in my cold mental sludge, clinging to a Hillary 2008 yard sign. I made a sextant out of fish bones and Red Vines but it smelled/looked weird so I threw it away. Everybody I know was staring at me from behind a crud-covered screen door, hoping they’d find me face down in the street, in Portugal or elsewhere, after a nauseating altercation at a Yu-Gi-Oh convention.
No, Piers, I will not be answering you this evening. Instead I will awkwardly play Fruit Ninja on my ivory telephone.
FIRST CALLER (Pete from Toledo, Ohio)
“My tongue is in your top left desk drawer, Piers”
God damn it, isn’t anyone screening these calls
SECOND CALLER (Pete from St. Petersburg, Florida)
5. Laundry detergent
6. Kidney beans