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Angstmonster Special Release 08
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ANGSTMONSTER SPECIAL RELEASE
NUMBER 8
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/ MY DAD HAS MORE CHANNELS THAN YOURS \
\ a collaboration by brian and gir /
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INTRODUCTION:
gir: THE TV TAUGHT ME TO TALK
brian: THE TV TAUGHT ME TO LIVE
brian: THE TV WAY MY PARENTZ
brian: I LOVE MY TV
brian: IDEA FOR TFILE
gir: i know!
gir: let's colaborate
gir: who's tv was the better parent?
THE RESULT: (?)
My Mommy And Daddy Are Better Than Yours!
by brian
We called her Ricki Lake, we called her Smurfette, we called her Carol Brady,
and we called her whenever we needed advice because, as it stood, she was my
brother and mine's mother. Tune in. There she sat on her wooden lazy susan,
on the hardwood floor, flashing her bright colors of pretty, immaculate white
and purple and pink and magenta in TECHNICOLOR!
Before the bus came, and as we got dressed, drooled over our cereal, there she
was, teaching us morale. How would we survive in school without her? Mama,
what are we going to do without you? Mama, when should I leave? Just . . .
one . . . minute . . . longer; all of a sudden--COMMERCIAL BREAK, AND A WORD
FROM OUR SPONSORS--
Dashing down the street, hi-tops pumping anxiously beneath my feet, pinching
my brother's arm like rubber, snatching the straps of his backpack, anything to
hold him back from reaching the bus before me. He'd yell, "Stop, or I'm gonna
tell mom!" and I'd laugh and tell him the first one to the bus gets to pick the
T.V. show when we got home. It's not like it mattered, because she was the
mother of us both and we watched the same programs.
Sometimes, we'd call him Garfield, sometimes it was Heathcliffe, or Leonardo,
never Splinter because he wasn't cool enough and far too old. Uncle Jesse al-
ways the uncle we never had and the father that we wanted. Give us Danny Tann-
er and we'll give you hell just like Junior in the TBS DINNER AND A MOVIE TO-
NITE! Daddy taught us to kill the dog, but the dog kills the evil cats, and
don't even listen to your parents because you can't understand them, said
Charlie Brown. Wah wahh, wahh wwaahh wahhhh WAH! Faceless and strapping,
John Arbuckle always down on his luck, just like daddy to be down on his luck.
And there we sat, still drooling over mommy and daddy, lulling . . .
Lullaby???
And Mr. Rogers loved me so much he'd sing songs just for me and brother. Bar-
ney almost did it right when two girls in his crew sang dearly, "I love my sis-
ter, I love my sisteerrrrr," and I'd turn to my brother and sing it mockingly
to him but he knew that mom and dad knew we weren't girls.
There were rumors that our mom from Lambchop's Play-Along died and we didn't
mind much we just changed from channel nine to channel thirteen and eat our
supper that someone (someone, someone, someone) gave us and then dad would
tell us that he had a hard day at work and he was getting so tired of the
force. Carl Winslow, we love you, sorry that Urkel annoys you, he annoys
us, too. Not Stefan, my brother and I both wanted to be Stefan but Laura, deep
down, she knew Stefan was just Steve and living a life of fraud is not living
a life at all, but wasting it away, which I never really understood in the
first place.
When wrestling came on, mom and dad taught us to defend yourself from big guys
but I was always scared of the forearms and the veins, popping and bursting, so
instead just talk like you are tough, and still drooling, over granola bars and
ice cream, eyes drooping and hanging low, low, low how far will they take the
stunts, I'd hear my brother ask me . . . or dad, and I couldn't even turn to
his face or even acknowledge what he had said, or asked, or told me, or wait,
what?
Bed time. Fall asleep to mom in my bedroom from the video cassette. And all I
would remember are the soft words in my dreams, repeating, repeating, repeat-
ing, until six, five, four, three, two, one, and the sleep timer ran out and
shut my mind off.
My Parents Are Just Fucked Up.
by gir
My first parents (not my REAL parents) had met untimely ends when they decided
my REAL parents were seeing too much of me. I didn't eat any of that food my
first parents made for me and whenever I wanted to nuzzle up with my REAL
parents, I'd get pulled away and put in a bed.
I wasn't the only one who didn't like that. My REAL parents knew what was up.
They hated to be torn away from their ONLY son as much as I was hating my first
parents for trying to keep me away.
I don't feel bad about what happened. I mean my first parents were asking for
it. It's like in nature, a REAL parent can only take so much separation from
their children before some instinct takes over. My REAL parents were
surprisingly brutal in protecting me.
One night in particular, the break up of me and my REAL parents was very
violent and emotional, but I was a mere child. There wasn't anything I could
do to stop my first parents. Being the grown adults they were, my REAL parents
knew how to take care of this.
After I was put to bed, my first parents confronted my REAL parents alone.
"We regret every buying you! YOU'VE TAKEN OUR ONLY SON AWAY FROM US! WHY
WOULD ANYONE BE SUCH A PROUD MAKER OF AN UNGODLY MACHINE?"
The screaming woke me up. I couldn't believe my first parents were being so
mean to my REAL parents. I hated them for this. I hated them so much. I hope
my REAL parents would take care of them soon.
"WHY DID I EVER DECIDE TO BUY YOU!?!? THIS IS YOUR FAULT YOU KNOW!"
My first parents begin to argue and in a moment of saving face, my first dad
tried to take a baseball bat to my REAL parents. An wire reached from behind
my REAL parents and whipped across his face, sending all sorts of television
energies throughout his body and short circuiting his nerves. My first mom's
shrill shriek muffled the sound of him falling to the ground. She was crying.
I was afraid to go downstairs. I didn't think my REAL parents were still alive
because I heard the crying turn into screams and then lots of breaking glass.
That sound made me begin to cry because it meant my REAL parents were being
brutally killed. I didn't want it to end like this. I didn't get to say
goodnight or goodbye at all. I ran downstairs to see what was happening.
All I saw was my REAL parents beautiful glistening glow. My first parents were
nowhere to be found. Ever since then, my REAL parents have raised me and we've
lived together while the world around us moved on. The advancing technology
didn't matter to me though, I had a family and that was the most important
thing ever.
END: (!)
brain normally writes for (and runs) cheese n crackers:
http://www.bubblemonkey.org/cheesencrackers/
that's all...
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+ Having trouble sleeping at night? +
+ Then Angstmonster Special Release is not where you +
+ need to submit a tfile to. Chocked full of late +
+ night insomnia induced goodness, it's what all the +
+ really hip kids will be doing, when they aren't +
+ sleeping. Email <gir@angstmosnter.org> with your +
+ submission and see if you can beat us at our own +
+ game of incoherency. If you can, maybe we'll +
+ share some cookies with you. Show some cookie +
+ love and support ANGSTMONSTER SPECIAL RELEASES! +
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ANGSTMONSTER SPECIAL RELEASE NUMBER EIGHT
12.10.02
Brought to you by angstmonster.org / Angstmonster Publishing.
"Writing tfiles for kids raised in the wild by television since 2002"
http://www.angstmonster.org/txt/
