square one: introduction

SQUARE ONE 
by
Chris Underdog
                                                                     

THE UNKNOWN WHITE-GUY wanted me to introduce myself before I start writing a review. I guess it's not an unreasonable request since I've agreed to be a common writer on this site.
    At this moment, I'm wondering what the fuck I should tell you. THE UNKNOWN WHITE-GUY is sitting next to me and the bastard is making me nervous.
 ''Just write something you bloody bastard!''
  ''Give me a moment! You can't rush the words!'' I say, as we are passing a joint back and forth. 
  ''Is that all our shit?'' I ask. 
  ''Yes.''
  ''FUCK.''
  Needless to say: I'm quite distracted. 
  So what is there to tell you about me? I don't know. I wrote a whole book about it. I wrote a whole book on the subject of me. And to tell you the truth: I still have no goddamn idea... 
  So there you. I'm Chris Underdog and right now, partly because I'm also fucked out of my mind; i have no idea what to tell you...
 And THE UNKNOWN WHITE-GUY has the giggles. And then I get the giggles too. And we're stoned. We are so very stoned. And it's a hoot. 
  And I light my cigarette. The room's getting smokier. THE UNKNOWN WHITE-GUY says he can't see shit anymore. And I say: that's because you're eyes are closed! 
  And then he forces his eyes to open by using his hands to lift up his eye-lids, and he looks at me and he says: Jesus dude whatever you do, don't look in the mirror! 
  And then I get this morbid curiousity on who is going to stare me down when I look in the mirror. And some ridiculous creature is staring me down. I point and laugh at the bastard. I look him deep in the eyes. His eyes are full of pain. His eyes are full of confusion. His eyes are full of life.
 And then I howl: 
 HOW THE FUCK CAN I WRITE A SIMPLE INTRODUCTION CONCERNING WHO I AM AND WHY I'M HERE AND WHAT I WANT TO DO AND IF THERE'S A GOD AND IF WE GO TO HEAVEN WHEN WE DIE AND WHY I CALL MYSELF UNDERDOG AND WHAT IS REAL AND WHO I LOVE AND WHO YOU SHOULD LOVE AND I SMOKED TOO MUCH I SMOKED TOO MUCH WEED...
 And the UNKNOWN WHITE-GUY slaps me in the head. He asks: are you okay?
 ME: I'm okay. I just spaced out a little. 
  I then sit down. I Take a few sips of water.  I Light a cigarette and I think to myself something very deep. Something revelatory. But then I get distracted. THE COLBERT REPORT is one.
   I'm back to square one.