September 7, 2016


As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a Blue Coat.
To me, being a Blue Coat was better than being President of the United States.
Ever since I wandered into the box office looking to score tickets to an after
school showing of How the Davi Stole Nixmas,

I knew I wanted to be a part of them.
It was there, in that glorious blue coat, that I knew I belonged.
To me, it meant being a somebody in a theater full of nobodies.

Blue Coats weren’t like everyone else.
I mean… they did whatever they wanted.

They double dipped in the nacho cheese

and the health inspector never gave them a ticket.
If a Blue Coat forgot to sweep a theater, nobody ever threatened to sell their
organs on the black market for money to buy a new dragon pendant.
To a Blue Coat, those goody-good people who worked shitty jobs for bum paychecks

and didn’t see free movies every day

and worried about how much bulk candy their dead eyed,

brain dead kids were shoving into a two pound bag were dead.
I mean, they were suckers. THEY HAD NO BALLS! OR BLUE COATS!!!
For me, to live any other way… would be ABSURD!

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