The Floating Kangaroo

Formulaic Fiction by Oliver Cassidy
Author of The Brutality Circa 1985 Litmus Test



After kidnapping Jennifer Lopez and removing her flat nose with a pair of scissors, the floating kangaroo urinated on the boobs of a nun.

Hi. I'm Mo. My writing teacher taught me something cool. She said, "Hook them with your opening sentence, make them laugh, then chill them with your closer." So... there you have it. A third of the equation. For now.

I'm really depressed. I need someone to read my words. Sorry I had to hook you like that, but since you're now hooked, I thought maybe you'd stay a while and help me. I have a lot of problems. My wife is gay. I just got fired. I'm allergic to soap. My house burned down. I moved to Florida and got hit in the face with five hurricanes. I owe my mother $84,773.90. My pants are too tight. Kids call me "Douchehead." My father is gay. I don't own a suit. My barber nicked my earlobe. I have sexual dreams about Madeline Albright. I have a nipple on my ass. I'm deaf. I don't know where Missouri is.

In case you're losing interest, consider yourself re-hooked by the following sentence: Everyone in Turkey woke up at the same time and wet themselves, so the floating kangaroo rode the urine wave all the way to the World Series of Poker.

Back to me. I can't swim. I can't sleep. My friend's Rabbi thinks I'm Barbara Walters. I'm bald. I have a paper clip stuck to my underpants. I still have cassette tapes. I root for the Diamondbacks. My dentist is gay. I vote for Ralph Nader. My hemmorhoids have nicknames. Everyone in Budapest and at the Delaware Department of Transportation hates me. I throw like a handicapped chef named Lorraine. God thinks I'm a dick.

Okay, thanks for your time. Thanks for reading my words. Believe me, it helps. A final gem as a parting gift, a token of my appreciation: The floating kangaroo owns an assault rifle, knows where you live, and wears a big red monocle - the better to watch your exploding skull.