Author: Benjamin C. Roy Cory Garrett Rev History Rev .00 - 11/06/2012 Rev .01 - 03/10/2022
Nachos, more so than bread is better half baked…
Jimmy’s favorite alcoholic beverage was all of them–mixed together and served over ice in a plastic martini glass that never left his hand. His favorite time to drink was very early in the morning. Jimmy always said, “early insobriety is the best defense against expectations for productivity,” and “all days are morally obligated to end in a nap to invigorate us for late-evening frolicks.” Jimmy “napped” frequently. Everyone knew what this meant, and that was a source of extreme embarrassment and discomfort for him.
Jimmy had an intense fear of being caught-out masturbating.
As a child, Jimmy liked to tie himself up with shoestrings and try to slip out of his clothes while “exciting himself” trying to escape. Luckily for Jimmy, this led only to embarrassment and not strangulation the time that Jimmy slipped halfway out of his top bunk, as well as his soccer shorts. The strings caught on the post and trapped his hands behind his back, pulling his neon green and purple umbros down between his ankles and knees. Completely trapped, Jimmy had to yell for his mother to rescue him before he hung himself at half mast. His mother, a true hero of this story, handled the entire situation with calm and without judgment–only giggling once upon opening the door.
Jimmy was shamed for life.
He continued to masturbate three to four times a day, as often as he could really. However–from “the incident” on–he always did so with a sense of disgust for himself that he desperately attempted to hide from others. His self-loathing around the subject of masturbation pervaded all aspects of his life, even his dreams. To cope–or perhaps just humiliate himself further–Jimmy became obsessed with writing and performing poems about the perverse nature of these dreams.
You Can’t Control your Dreams #1, by Jimmy the Perv
Neither the writing nor the performing of these poems had any therapeutic value for Jimmy. Instead, they just served to make everyone around Jimmy acutely aware of his fear of himself as a sexual being. His friends–being friends, but maybe not good ones–used this as an opportunity for jest. Jimmy resented being the butt of frequent jokes and tried in vain–with the consumption of excessive alcohol–to suppress his sex drive by surrounding himself with as many people as possible, as often as possible. This escapist philosophy gave rise to the glory days of Jimmy’s Jam sessions.
Jimmy’s Jam sessions: Jimmy would spend the moring baking loaves upon loaves of bread before napping. Then he would awake to nights filled with friends and fruity frivolity: smoking himself stupid off sweet bong rips, downing ungodly amounts of sickly sweet mixed drinks, and satisfying munchies with breads and sweet, sweet preserves. His most successful Jam session will for ever be the cold, new-moon celebration of February 20th, 2004, recorded in history as Un soir sombre de cigarettes minces et biscuit secrète cuisson.
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Music listened to on Une soirée sombre:
- Arcade Fire – “wake up”
- Townes Van Zandt – “when she don’t need me”
- Bruce Springsteen – “Nebraska”
- An embarrassing amount of Modest Mouse and The Pixies
- Followed up at 5 am by a depressing foray into giving up: an exercise on soon-to-be-string-less guitars played along with pleas for death to the haunted dismelodies of Souled American.
Laws broken during or leading up to Une soirée sombre:
- Title 18 US Code 1708 – Theft or receipt of stolen mail matter generally
- In the form of one carton of Fine 120 Lights premium french cigarettes, accidentally delivered to and opened at address 201 West Jefferson street, kirksville MO 63501, instead of 201 East Jefferson Street, Kirkville, MO 63501.
- Section 195.222 of the missouri criminal code
- In the form of 14 grams of premium grade marijuana purchased for distribution amongst evening attendees, street-named trainwreck, and guaranteed to get those motherfuckers riptorn for the duration of festivities.
- Ord. No 11296, 6,19-97 of the Kirksville MO Code of Ordinances , Appendix A, Article III, Section 25-24.Noise,
- In regards to the noise in excess of 72 decibels recorded at the street emanating from maniacally screaming voices and audio amplification system at the residential property located at 201 West Jefferson.
- Ord. No. 11177, S2, 4-3-95 of the Kirksville MO Code of Ordinances, Chapter 18, Article II, Section 18-27. Public indecency unlawful
- *[REDACTED]* Court case still pending.
- Newton’s First Law of Motion, I. Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.
- In regards to a gentlemen, to whom we shall herein refer to as The sHadoW, engaging in acts of “gross levitation.”
The masturbatory humor common at these events left a more bitter taste in Jimmy’s memory than deserved. In his heart, Jimmy believed he had far better friends than he would ever willingly admit publically. This became clearer and clearer to Jimmy the further away he got from those late night Jam sessions, and the closer he got to being a fatting bald businessman with far more money than people or time to spend it on.
It’s not that Jimmy was an unpleasant human being. People liked Jimmy’s parties, and they like him, but just not in the ways he fantasized about regularly, while spreading the jelly in the company of surely strange women and beautiful young men. His sexual-adjecent delusions were only stretched further by the habit drug dependency can have of cultivating states of paranoia. Eventually, Jimmy began to believe he was surfing down a spiral staircase of shame and stagnation. He started wearing a fedora and complaining about how “Jam is such a expired condiment, that just gets too…over the top.” He began experimenting heavily with hot sauce and hallucinogenics, leading him to a life-changing revelation:
Anyone can bake bread, but everyone baked loves nachos.
Jimmy grew a mustache and a new spirit he called “entrepreneurial” but his friends called “duchy.” He began sitting in on a Spanish class at the local university with a teacher he had once made out with, and referring to the strangers he would invite to his parties as “mi amigos nuevos.” He would sometimes unbutton the top button of his shirt before leaving his bedroom in the morning and then button it back up again in the school bathroom when he saw the reflection of what he was becoming.
Marijuana was often supplemented with mushrooms and people began snorting powdered sugar up off a mirror left on the coffee table. The quality of his guests deteriorated from friends, down to re-fried acquaintances, and finally down to synthetic-cheese-sauce strangers. It was at one of Jimmy’s newly re-christened “Freestas” that he had his million dollar idea.
Unable to stand without supporting himself, Jimmy was off in his own universe, experimenting with his newly discovered superpower of hallucengenic induced synesthesia. Uncontrolled fear of being seen halfway out of the known color spectrum–or his own pants–kept Jimmy from exploring his newly linked senses as deeply as he longed to, so, instead, he focused upon the experience of eating a soggy, bean-sodden chip and watching the colors of the room swirl around in a vortex of delicious madness with every bite. He could vaguely hear the audiovisual wavelengths of someone in his house watching a Charles Bukowski documentary, but the details of that memory were quickly consumed again by nacho-y goodness. The only memory which stuck with Jimmy that nigh–and carried him forward into a bathroom stall of sh/fame–was the limitless cash generating potential of a stoner’s creamy-dream-supreme in the possibility of:
The Inter-nacho-nal House of Nachos.
Jimmy was never seen again.