NOW IS THE TIME.

guys,
it's time for the fryeburg fair.
mmhmmm.
the blue ribbon classic;
the monstrous maine agricultural/monocultural big action;
the burly-booted buttholes in camouflage and confederate flag congregation;
the animal feces and urine EVERYwhere explosion;
the teen lust behind the carnival rides furtiveness;
all of that,
every last drop of droopy-eyed, fat-fingered humanity,
is all really happening, in one large group,
as a mob of crowded creatures coalesce into a creeping crud of crap......
and then,
amidst all of that reeking, seeping american idiocy,
there's a goldne beacon of hope and joy and love and healing F*ing light, kids.
yup.
you know what i'm talking about.
and if you don't know?
well,
you're about to,
what's the only part of the fair i care about?
where's the only place i go, all eight days in a row of that festival of fatness?
what sort of heat-seeking shark-bullet barbarian juggernautical gluttony guides me,
and to where am i pinpointing?
is all my money getting put exactly where my mouth is?
that's a lot of questions, neighbors...
the answer is so simple though-
there's only ONE thing that means a damned thing at the fair, y'all.
and it's all i even give any sh!ts about this week.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
check themutha-'ucking-real-talk-type teleport:

WORDIMUS PRIME!!!!
MAINE FALAFEL COMPANY SUPER-TURBO-HOTTNESS IS IN FULL EFFECT!!!!
hahahaha.
oh MAN!
that first fresh bite slid down so smoothly.
i missed them so much.
what happened next?
well, obviously,
i had MORE:

wu-TANG!
two more, right out of the gates.
i mean,
i'm only there to eat falafel and act like i don't know nobody.
check and double-check.
my list is complete.
oh,
and also,
rules is rules, y'feel me?
uh-huh.
teleport:

too much is the right amount!!
four fair-food fried fresh-to-death falafels for my face!!!!!
i don't know about you guys,
but i'm getting ready to blarp the F* out.
no joke.
my eyes are open kids,
and i'm lookin' down the barrel of a tahini tsunami.
there's no fear, here, for the future.
there is only falafel.
***********
i'm leaving work early, every day this week.
uh-huh.
crabtree still needs caretaking,
and i'm all he's got.
so,
i'll be home first, and then having dinnertime at the fair.
every.
single.
day.
i won't stop until the job is done,
and that means a LOT of falafels are headed into my head.
this is it.
essentially,
a strong week of self-destructive racing around and stuffing myself.
it's not productive, really,
but it is what's happening.
i'm sure by day 3 i'll already be visibly worse for wear,
but that's the path i'm on.
i've got my weekly pass everyday all-day bracelet,
i've got my weirdie tin cup for soda-pop,
i've got no interest in anything else within the walls of this gigantic compound.
there is dinner,
and then there is leaving.
everything else is extraneous;
never quiet, never soft.....