Fragments from books that don’t exist: Turtle Heads Abound


Meanwhile I am thinking about all the stupid things we attach ourselves to in this life, or rather that we attach to ourselves, like barnacles accumulating on our personalities. Stupid things that could go on your tombstone if your tombstone was intended to make you look ridiculous. Things like which sports teams you rooted for. What your favorite flavor of ice cream was. Your most often traveled commute route. Favorite “lucky” number. Your go-to sexual fantasy. Favorite color. You could imagine this tombstone – maybe it’s one of those big statues in a cemetery – with a long list of this kind of thing. Here Lies John Doe. He was really into Super Mario Brothers. He once bowled 152. He favored Mocha Walnut Crunch. Could eat a Big Mac in a pinch. Lifelong Yankees fan. Once ate fourteen hot dogs in one sitting. Grew the most at age 13. Type O blood. Called in sick an average of 4.7 days a year while working at Muckbog Industries. Ass man. Only bet on horses with three-syllable names. Liked cats more than dogs. Hated parakeets. Enjoyed the humor of Gus Greenbag. Read everything ever written by Steven King. ‘Law and Order’ but not ‘Law and Order SVU’. Once wrote epic poem about girl named Stacy who never returned his calls.


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