As I sat watching the carbon dioxide bubbles trying to escape from their soda prison, I wondered if I would ever be able to eat cheese puffs the same way again. I didn't feel comfortable being in the same room with a bag of that snack ever since I was assaulted by one – a mentally challenged bag of fiery hot fake popcorn. The kind that sticks in your craw the second you try to ingest any of its contents. The kind that makes you wonder what you're doing with your life. The kind you immediately regret.

That reminds me of this girl I knew back in school. I don't know her anymore, but when I did know her, her name was Epiphany. Her parents were a spaced out hippie from South San Francisco, and an uptight baker from the streets of Detroit. And a retired bank manager turned astronaut who grew up in Herzegovina. An astronaut, not a cosmonaut. Let's be exceptionally clear about this. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings and puzzled questions later because you missed out on some minor yet important detail here at the beginning of the middle of the story.

Anyway, her parents met in a pub the last night it was open in downtown Denver, Colorado. What happened that fateful night is forgotten to all but them, and now you. Once you have finished, please write me a letter explaining these events so the legend of the parents of Epiphany are not lost to the annals of history.

It was the dawning of the tenth millennium and the blue-toned great grandchildren of mankind were watching the destruction of the original planet Earth for the last time. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Approximately eight thousand and twenty years earlier, a weird narcoleptic girl was born after the coupling of two strange men, and one relatively normal flower girl. The moon was crescendoing in the eerie Midwestern sky, a single cell from one man was finding its way to a single cell of a female, and the Blair Witch Project was showing on HBO again. They couldn't get enough of that stupid ass movie. Here three people are siring a child and all they can do is watch that piece of shit. I paid like a dollar to rent it from the rental shop and I still want my money back. I could have bought a dollar's worth of poison for that dollar.

But I digress. I try not to, but since the cheesy assault I've been having more and more problems with staying on task. Like two days ago I was sitting in the bank drive up trying to write a check for five thousand dollars to pay my electric bill, when all of a sudden I started thinking nonstop about how Drew Carey is doing. I mean I wonder if he has any tv shows or other projects in the works or what. Is he just sitting at home all sad. Or maybe he walks his dog to the park and has this awesome kick-ass life I can only dream of even though he only had this mediocre sitcom on tv for a few years. Then I ran over a raccoon.

He didn't die, but gave me the dirtiest look I've ever seen a mammal whose fur looks like a mask give a human, outside of the Batsquirrel reruns on Nick at Nite. (There were problems on-set. Robin was played by an actual robin. And the Batmobile was an acorn with a sign taped to it that said "batmobile". These were mistakes they were making)

Suddenly, the bartender tells me to stop talking to myself. Look I'm not trying to be disruptive it's an unconscious habit I have when I'm typing. What do you mean only losers bring a laptop into a bar and write on their shitty great American novel. Yeah losers like Hemingway, if he had a laptop and an urge to drink margaritas at 5 pm and none of the good bars were open yet. Yes you heard me this place is a hole. No you get out. I'm tired of your attitude Frank. I know I broke up with your sister in high school. She wouldn't put out. You know this. You already know this information I'm telling you. She was so a slut. Every dude in school but me got a piece of that. Cmon man even the kid with no eyebrows. Yeah man that kid. The one that always wore the same orange shirt to class. Dude I know. That is the basis for my outrage.

Look I'm sorry man. I thought you knew about her. We're cool right. Nah I'll just stop for now. I hit a roadblock anyway. Can I get a Miller Lite. I've had hell of wine coolers and other fruity drinks already. Might as well stick with what's working.