Some Nerve Brad Has

“What time is it?” asked Janice to the owner of the clock store.

“I don’t know, young lady, but my guess is that it’s anywhere between an old tooth fairy’s dentures found under a marble pillow and a panhandling emperor tooting a No 2. Pencil.”

“Thank you and how much for this clock here?” But in her hand was not a clock but the owner’s half-eaten bread sandwich composed of two slices of bread and another slice of bread at the center. The crumbs were fractal in nature so they were exact duplicates of the sandwich’s current half-eaten state.

“This clock… well, it’s not for sale. Nothing here is.” The owner was naked but somehow had an ability to instantly transform into green overalls with a tulip in the front pocket when not observed.

“Very well then, maybe you can help me with something else. I’m looking for the directions to life.”

The owner nodded as he took a lump of sand from one side pocket and transferred it over to the other side pocket, “Yes, first take apart one Oreo. Take the side that has more creme and throw it at the very center of a nearby stop sign so that you clearly hear the ding. A frog who identifies as a squirrel with she/her pronouns will appear in your purse. She will tell you where to go next.”

Janice thanked the man and was ready to leave in search of the Oreo but had forgotten whether her right foot was supposed to go after the left or if the left was supposed to get left behind.

By the time she solved the riddle, the store had already long closed. She was trapped inside without a lifejacket and lifejackets were mandatory for any and all emergencies according to science.

Without a lifejacket, she experienced not only one death but seven. The seventh even had a name, Brad.

Brad was a little short, blond hair, blue eyes, and wore pastel color Polo shirts. He enjoyed playing Rock Paper Scissors with himself even though he sometimes cheated.

And it’s imbeciles like Brad who ruin it for everybody else. Unbelievable. If I ever see that two-timing punk, he better have the rest of his gang with him. Poor little baby’s gonna need all those shoulders to cry on after I’m through with him. Ptui.

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