Currently I am seated in the town's Applebee's just wrapping up a very, VERY late lunch. My eating and workout habits have gone down the toilet since I got this job. Living on the road can sure mess with that. Seated to my left at the bar is a flannel-shirt downing Appletini's like there's no tomorrow. I would wager at the rate that he's getting wasted he'll have a date with his own toilet by mid-next week.
For full effect download "Going Up The Country" by Canned Heat and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. The only real reason why is because it's the background music for this meager piehole on the west side of I-93.
I will back up and give you a glimpse of my life the last time I was up in this neck of the woods. I used to have seizures. Really nasty ones. And I tried every form of therapy that I could think of to get rid of them. I even tried freakshow WTF was I thinking therapy up here in Twin Falls by a doctor who was the crypt keepers uncle. And it was suggested by a dear friend, VRM Garth Shiftyeyes.
VRM Garth Shiftyeyes: "This guy may seem kinda weird, but honestly, my family swears by him. His practice is kinda bizarre, but then again, what do you have to lose?"
Swamp Thing (then Seizure Boy): "Oh I don't know, a couple hundred dollars in travel expenses, the temporal lobe of the left side of my brain, my virginity? What the heck, I'll give him a whirl."
And with that, the crypt keeper strapped some kind of magnetic device to my head and knees and started humming some hypnotic rhythm through his nostrils, meanwhile adjusting my coccyx to it's primal position. And no that last part was not dirty. No giggity intended. Go ahead, look up the word coccyx. You'll be surprised when adult entertainment is not what you're rewarded with you sick pervert.
Did his witch doctor schemes help me out with my epilepsy? Absolutely not. And I would go over to the old geezer's house and kick him in the coccyx if he was still alive. But from what VRM Garth Shiftyeyes has informed me, he is now literally a crypt keeper.
I have now made the journey to the local high school/zoo where I am awaiting the next group of students to entertain and inform about higher education. I hope that my partners Barnum and Bailey show up tonight. They better bring the elephant with them. To my left is a graceful woman who was born in 1845, representing I-Have-No-Idea State College. We'll see how well she turns out. To my right is a mix between Criss Angel, Captain Hook and Alice Cooper. (See the above picture) I can only assume that his fashion and hairstyle make him the poster child for the cosmo college he's coaxing kids into joining.
Kitty-corner from me I see another cosmetology school setting up their booth. Uh-oh, does this mean that Criss Angel's crosstown competitors are looking to corral some high schoolers their way? I turn to the rep next to me asking if there is some bad blood between the two of them.
Criss's Assistant: "Not really, we just know that we're better than them."
Swamp Thing: "Better like you give more stylish bikini waxes or what?"
Criss's Assistant: scoffing "They don't really belong in the same room as us."
I cross my fingers that an epic hairspray walk-off is going to get thrown down between these two schools. And sadly yes, I did just overuse the word "epic" yet again. I'm sorry Travis Kester, don't hate.
I look across the gym at one of the other Utah recruiters and receive a blank stare in return. His nonverbal glare says it all. This job really does suck the life out of you. I do love it though. Kids start to shuffle in, I had better put on my game face. Next to me Criss Angel has started practicing his levitation moves to wow the kids. He had better be legit though.
If not, I'm going to kick him in his coccyx.
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Location: Twin Falls, ID