Inflation's a 'B'

Inflation’s a ‘B’

Dear Abbie—

When inflation hit and the price of everything spiked, I thought to myself, I’m screwed. I’m screwed because I’m hard to live with and need a roommate to remain housed.

Let me first relay some of my quirks—

-I have an alter ego. His name is King Ralph, and he’s a former professional wrestler who stays up all night telling me about his 234 matches: every leap, crushing blow, and body slam. Every injury, argument with management, and encounter with wrestling groupies. I act out all the parts and sometimes use a microphone.

-I dust every surface of my apartment continuously. And I mean that very specifically. No matter what else I’m doing, I’m also dusting. I wear a smock with pockets, where I keep a clean rag and a bottle of Endust with me at all times—it’s the only brand that works to my standard. This will be something that I will do until I cannot stand, walk, or breathe. I have made this promise to myself.

-On the 15th of each month, I am violent. It’s my own personal purge. I don’t hit people but instead attack “non-living” material around me—furniture, fake plants, traffic cones, bicycle racks, newsstands, mall displays. I set aside money on an ongoing basis to pay for the damage I am sometimes arrested for. I started doing this when I was 20, and I feel that if I stopped, I’d murder someone each month instead.

-I enjoy gassy outbursts so much that I only eat foods that generate impressive emissions. Cabbage, beans, daily Taco John platters, 2-liter bottles of Walmart soda (Dr. Knutt’s a favorite). There is something orgasmic about a “combo-blast”—simultaneous thunder belch and ripping fart. Proudly, I’ve never sharted.

If I could find someone to be a ‘bang-around buddy,’ I’d be over the moon—someone who adores punishment as much as I enjoy doling it out. A fella I could turn King Ralph loose on to practice wrestling holds. Someone I could dress up as a coat rack and smack around on the 15th.

I will not change, and I’m certain that finding someone to put up with me will be difficult. Those who would are likely damaged folk from circumstances so dire that anything would be better. These are not people I’d want to share a home with, but living in an alley isn’t an option.

I drafted an ad to place in odd spots about the city:

30-year-old male seeking roommate ASAP. No reasonable candidate will be refused. Because it is an unauthorized sublet situation, periodic hiding will be required. I’m a handful, both physically (5’4”, 365 pounds) and emotionally (I don’t often tear up, but when I do, boy-oh-boy). If you find a spec of dust in my apartment, I’ll fellate you on the spot. Also, you will NOT find a spec of dust in my apartment. I have frequent, forceful bodily explosions that are planned and celebrated. These episodes have never required a wipe-up or hose-down. There is nothing I won’t do to keep my mental health in a positive range—I have been known to scream at the top of my lungs for 30-40 minutes if I think it can be helpful. I have never hurt a dog but have electrocuted three cats—because I was a minor at the time, I claim ‘doli incapax.’

I’d appreciate feedback on the ad.

While I subsist on government assistance and panhandling, I have listed a few dream jobs. I don’t know that they exist, but I consider myself a man of vision.

For Hire “Let’s Go!” screamer

Frothman at low-end coffee shops

Hatchery Security 

Mouth Trumpeter

Finally, I won’t live with, work with, or generally associate with fake Mexicans. And if you don’t think I can tell the difference, you’ve got another thing coming.

Thanks in advance for any advice.

Sincerely– 

INFLATION’S A 'B’

***

Dear Inflation—

To summarize, you are a rampaging buffalo of a man whose only recent accomplishment is that you haven’t sharted. You’re seeking a roommate/victim to help you pay the rent and keep you from storming into the alleys and parks of the city to harass citizenry.

I can feel the distress in your writing as you teeter on the brink of homelessness. My initial thought was to address what you can control — cabbage intake, consideration of a sedative, staying away from cats — and leave alone what you cannot. But, as I sat with your correspondence and read it again, I arrived at other notions. 

First, seeking advice is a positive step that few in your situation take; take heart in that and build on it. You may be a boorish, filthy being with violent tendencies who is a danger to all who come into your midst, but these days, in the cultural and political climate we inhabit, is that such a hindrance to long-term success? Could these traits instead be ramped up and laser-focused in a direction that puts you in a dominant position? Might you be a latent Ayn Rand disciple who embraces egoism over altruism?

What if you more fully embraced your alter-ego, King Ralph? Wholly realizing that personality and entering the growing bum-fighting circuit might garner enough income that a “bang-around buddy” (as you called it) might not be necessary. You could increase King Ralph’s celebrity with an array of wigs, flashy costumes, and a series of signature moves. As an added benefit, a physically demanding outlet like this could reduce your penchant for explosively destructive acts on the 15th of each month.

If you feel any of this is near target, consider me an ally and potential agent for your endeavors. We can do nothing alone in this world, and for many of us, it takes a village, if not a downright confederacy.

***

PS -  I may know a neighbor whose hen house could do with some guarding — city coyotes, who knew?

PPS -Though I find their culture and heritage fascinating, I also find it difficult to tolerate those who pose as Mexican.