---In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, <fleetwood_macncheese@...> wrote :

 <shower running in the background>
 Barry, humming his fave Bruce Cockburn tune, steps out, notices the floor got 
all wet - "let the fukin' roomies mop it up..." "Hey good lookin'..." he says 
to the mirror, imagining him and Bruce, pals, just like him and Curtis...bros, 
in a rock n' roll world. 
 He tousles his thinning hair, slaps some Stetson after-shave on his sagging 
jowls, pulls on his Jerry Garcia t-shirt (signed by the Dalai Lama), some 
jeans, and shuffles, a little hurriedly, towards that favorite bar of his, "Le 
Petite Chausser". 
 Sure, no one ever says a word to him, but he's got 'em convinced of his 
popularity on the 'Net -- a sideways glance to no one, a secret chuckle at the 
screen, a little too loud, perhaps an escape of laughter, as the ever convivial 
waitress approaches, for Barry's inevitable third drink order, and inevitable 
 Reading a little too much into her social nature, Barry tried once, to explain 
the "cult addicted idiots" on his laptop. She smiled, but he heard her laughing 
quietly, as she walked away. bitch. 
 Oh well, at least an hour or two out of his room - "...fukin' roomies - fukin' 
conformist Dutch - fukin' Maharishi - fukin Steve - fukin Judy - fukin Jimbo - 
fukin Robin, Share, jr, Richard, Jedi, Ann, Em, Rory, Bob Price, and all the 
rest of those losers...Ah, at last, Fairfieldlife has loaded, I hate those 

 As you might expect, I enjoyed this. I'm sure we could all write one about 
almost everyone here and even about ourselves. I'd like to see everyone write a 
parody of themselves - it would show what good sports we are. I'm going to 
start working on mine.


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