Subliminal White Trash

Welcome. This site contains a cross section of my writing including stories, comedy skits, poetry, dialogues and observational humour with a satirical edge. Feedback is much appreciated. Coming through people! Clear a path! My e-mail is kevincpearce@yahoo.com

My Photo
Name:
Location: Burlington, Ontario, Canada

After graduating high school in 1995 with a significant amount of embarrassingly cliched emotional baggage, Kevin "Subliminal White Trash" Pearce made his way to Toronto in a perfectly understandable attempt to outrun his past. After encountering many similarly desperate and stubbornly eccentric people, Kevin found his way into the acting and spoken word scenes. With an amazing and almost inhuman effort, Kevin somehow negotiated through his self destructive tendencies on his way to finding some kind of second rate enlightenment in his strange little world of reckless, impulsive creativity. After spending three years in Toronto, Kevin decided to return to the suburbs in order to preserve his diminishing supply of mental health. Sometimes he even thinks it was the right decision.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Smoker's Help Line Parody

"Smoker's Help Line, how may I help you?"

"I've got this problem. You see, I smoke three packs a day, that's seventy-five cigarettes and I'm trying to cut down. So today I only smoked seventy-three. And now I’ve got this craving like you wouldn't BELIEVE. It's madness...I'm a wreck...I'm shaking...I've broken out into a cold sweat...I think my heart might give out."

"Sir, this line is normally used for people who have already quit and need support to stay smoke-free."

"QUIT?!? Who the hell wants to quit?!? I'm just trying to cut down a bit. Look, I'm a sixty-eight year old man and I'm trying to stay alive another day and you're telling me to QUIT? Christ...I'd drop dead if I quit. I just gotta cut back a bit. But seriously…I cough up blood for half an hour when I wake up and then I hit the bottle and start smoking up a storm. I can't help myself. I'm WEAK goddamnit. And don't start telling me about AA, it doesn't work for me...wow…change of subject…I go through about ten coffees and my head feels like it's going to explode halfway through the goddamn meeting. It's just a goddamn mess."

"Sir, you obviously have a serious multiple addiction problem that needs professional help. I don't know how I can be of help to you."

"Lady, I am fucking IMPOTENT AND I HAVE COLON CANCER. MY WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY IS DEAD AND IN TWO WEEKS I’LL BE HOMELESS. And just to please the gods I'M GOING BLIND. Goddamnit, I shouldn't have bothered calling. What a useless fucking service. Do you know any dirty jokes? I BET YOU'RE A DIRTY NAUGHTY LITTLE LADY AREN'T YA? Talk sexy to me. You could at least do that. FOR FUCK'S SAKE TALK SEXY TO ME I'M DYING GODDAMNIT."

"Sir, I will not talk sexy to you. I get paid to counsel people through their cravings for cigarettes. People who have QUIT and are trying their BEST to remain smoke-free. You are clearly not suitable for this service, although from what I hear you would probably benefit more from a suicide hotline. Sir, I do not like you and I never want to hear from you again."

"You bitch. You callous bitch. How dare you talk to an elder like that. Let me talk to your fucking supervisor NOW BITCH! Never underestimate the power of the elderly to fuck your whole world up real pretty. PUT THE GODDAMN SUPERVISOR ON NOW."

"Sir, I'm not hear to argue with you or listen to your petty demands. Goodbye."

"You evil evil evil bitch. You will be stricken down by your own evil. You will be destroyed by evil. Your womb is evil. Evil is coming for YOU, BITCH."

"Fuck you old man. Die slow. Fucking asshole."

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home