At this one bar where there was a ton of marbles embedded into the counter and into the bar-top and onto the cooler lights, there was this short black plumber with a beret on and long hair coming out from under it, who had just got off of work and was talking in a low voice and a kind of spacey manner about whatever.
When a sports mascot came on TV, he started telling me how he wanted to be a mascot, so he could go up to people and fuck with them.
“And do what, exactly?”, I was like.
“You know, fuck with them, do whatever I want to,” the guy was like.
“Like hit them with a big inflatable hammer that makes a squeaking sound?”, I was like.
“Yeah, just like that,” he was like, “Whatever I want to.”
“Like what?’, I was like. “I mean, just your top 2 or 3 things you’d do.”
“Whatever!,” he said. “You think it, I’d do it.”
I then told him that it was like the internet, how we know there’s a ton of stuff we could do, but we’re kind of immobilized by the infinite possibilities, and I challenged him again just to name 2 or 3 other things he’d do to people if he was a sports mascot.
He couldn’t.
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