On Tuesday morning I was in for a bit of a surprise.  Like any other, I woke up, urinated, and stumbled over to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.

 

“What the Hell are you doing here?”

”HI BROWN MAN.  BROWN MAN HAVE GOOD COFFEE.”

“Why are you here drinking my Hawaiian coffee?”

I looked around and surmised STEVE SMITH raped a 2 lbs bag of whole bean coffee and got coffee beans all over the place.  I watched the tiny dog crunching on a few in her bowl.

”TINY DOG LOOK TIRED.  STEVE SMITH GIVE TINY DOG COFFEE“

“Thanks.  Asshole.”

In the living room I heard Tony Horton shouting it was now time for crunchy frog.  I walked over and found Sugarfree finishing Ab RipperX in my living room.  An entire house with tile and he picks the one room with carpet to roll around the floor doing ab exercises while naked.

”Hey…mex…how…you doing?” Sugarfree asked in between reps.

”You all have to be shitting me.”

“No…that happens…after…air squats.”

Then the tiny dog ran up to me.  She circled six or seven times then stopped.  Shivering furiously, she squatted awkwardly and let loose a liquid shit on my carpet.

———

“This is Prathiba, from Swiss Corps International Industries, why are you calling Mr. Swiss this time?”

“The Indian government finally let you out of quarantine?”  I asked.

”You one to talk.  Last I check Mexicans running through desert with upper respiratory infections and taking up space in hospitals.”

”That has what to do with me?”

”I survive diphtheria, bubonic plague, and dengue fever outbreak in India.  I no need whatever greasy plague you have spreading around town.”

”We don’t live in the same city…”

”Keep it that way.  MAGA BITCH.”

“Look, there’s a Sasquatch in my house.”  I explained.

”Ok.  Is STEVE SMITH doing anything else?”

“At the moment?  He’s sitting on my roof shouting at MAGA trucks.”

STEVE SMITH SAY LIME GREEN TRUCK WITH LIFT LOOK TERRIBLE.

“I afraid Mr. Swiss say he no longer interested in STEVE SMITH causing ruckus in your house.  He say your own damn fault you shot him in New Mexico, and fire-bombed Trump’s car—“

”I didn’t fire-bomb his car, Sugarfree did that.”

“—if he not do anythIng illegal, he say hang up.”

”What the Hell am I supposed to do with STEVE SMITH and Sugarfree in my house?”

”Sugarfree there?  Let me patch you through.”

——-

“Mex.  I’m glad you called!” Swiss said.

”You are?”

“Yes, we’ve been looking for Sugarfree for the past couple days. Guy says he’s hungry and goes on a buffalo hunt and then disappears…”

“Why is there a Sasquatch in my house?”

STEVE SMITH HONK BACK AT YOU.  BY HONK, MEAN RAPE

”I don’t know…have you considered…and I’m just spittballing here…asking him?”

”He’s on my roof, shouting at cars.”

“Yeah he does that.  See to it Sugarfree gets home.”

”Will I be reimbursed for the plane ticket given he lives in Kentucky?”

”Tell me about it.  This call is over.”

——-

“So what brings you to my house?”

“MAX REPS always makes me hungry.”  Sugarfree had set up a small rotisserie on my grill and was getting ready to put a family of quail over it.  Each seemed to have its head smashed in with a small rock.  Seeing he repurposed a workout band into a makeshift slingshot, I wasn’t too worried it would tip off the neighbors.

”STEVE said he’s seen a lot of impostors at protests.”  Sugarfree took a juvenile quail, its head off coming off with a loud -snap-, and removed its skin in one swift motion.

”Impostors?”

STEVE SMITH SEE WANT TO KNOW DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BMW DRIVER AND PORCUPINE

”People dressing up like him and calling themselves bigfoot.”  Sugarfree looked up at STEVE.  “The pricks on a porcupine are on the outside, STEVE.”

AH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sugarfree looked back at me. “He just wants to make sure people don’t get the wrong idea about him.”

”How bad can it be?”

”Well for one thing, his feet aren’t big.  They’re actually proportional in size, considering his seven foot frame.“

STEVE SMITH FEET BIG ENOUGH

”STEVE is also strictly against placing him on a binary spectrum of political thought.  His pastime of rape is highly nuanced.”  Sugarfree set seven quail on a skewer, set it upon the spit, and closed the lid.  “We’re here to make sure nobody co-opts his image.”

——-

The houses in my neighborhood began to  prepare for the Trump rally.  Some put up stupid signs on their front yards, others put up their Trump flags.  An enterprising individual even began selling MAGA gear.

Sugarfree and I walked over to the church and made our way into the crowd.

“Reminds me of our trip to our nations capital.”  Sugarfree said.

”Please don’t remind me.”  I replied.

The cops set up some sort of Spartan line at the intersection.  The BLM crowd was wrapping itself around three sides.  Some wore masks in accordance with the city and county mandate to wear masks in public.  Then for no apparent reason the line began to march slowly towards the protest.

We are here to enforce the city’s mask mandate.  Half of you are not abiding by the city mandate, which was made in accordance of the best understanding of safety measures by health experts…”  A man said through the bullhorn.

”They can’t really be saying that?”  I asked.

”…the intent of the mandate is first to educate the public on the severity of the virus, not necessarily to ‘enforce’ it.”

”They’re going there.”  Sugarfree chuckled.

”…We assume all of you have drugs, child pornography, and weapons on your person.

“This guy has a gun!”  Sugarfree shouted, trying to grab my 1911 from it’s IWB holster.

”What are you doing?”

”Listen…whatever happens today,  STEVE wants to know he thanks you for your hospitality, and left a gift on your roof.”  Sugarfree said ominously.

”He took a dump on my roof?”

Sugarfree shrugged and looked at the oncoming cops behind their line of shields.   “Hey.  Its STEVE!”

STEVE SMITH for some reason walked into the intersection between the cops and BLM.

The cops began to fire pepper balls on the crowd.  Its been a long time since I’ve been around tear gas.

”Spicy balls.”  Sugarfree put a few in his pocket.

STEVE SMITH NOT HAPPY WITH COPS.  STEVE SMITH HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH COP.

STEVE ran up to the line of shields and grabbed the cop with the bullhorn and ran off with him into the nearby mountain preserve.

”That guy’s screwed.”  I said.

”GO STEVE, GO!”  Sugarfree shouted.

——-

The neighborhood had an uneasy feeling for the rest of the day.  Between the sirens and the news helicopters, that tiny dog kept yapping all damn night.

I don’t really know what happened to Sugarfree, but he was right about that present STEVE SMITH left on my roof.

Thanks. Not bad STEVE.