How Scurvy Ate Half My Brain: And I lived to tell about itJune 27th, 2007
by Steve Dupont
BIRMINGHAM, AL -
The “lived to tell about it” part is kind of obvious, I guess. Just so you know it’s not being told, dare I say, from …
BEYOND THE GRAVE!
Not that Howling – oh, nevermind. Just forget it.
I say that a lot:
“Just forget it.”
“It doesn’t make any difference.”
This is often a red herring!
Actually, it’s not. I just like to say “red herring.”
I said red HERRING, you fools! Not goddamned Red Buttons!
Red Skelton, whatever, it doesn’t matter.
Red buttons, yeah, nice going. I said it doesn’t fucking matter …
Oh Jesus Christ, there I go again.
I need my head examined. I wonder if insurance will cover that. Depends on the doctor’s opinion I suppose. And the real question is whether or not the insurance people would raise questions about it.
Not if they knew me, certainly.
In all likelihood they’d say, “By all means! Examine this man’s head immediately!”
See, then I would get an MRI and it would reveal only half a brain. The other side just blackness, like this:
A total void. Not gray matter or any other kind of matter, for that matter.
Who knows. Could very well be. But was I BORN THAT WAY? Nope.
Which means, sometime over the past 33 years, half my brain disappeared.
And yet, we all know matter cannot be destroyed – and that brains are, in fact, quite often eaten. Not only by humans and baboons, but by more nebulous entities that lurk around almost every corner and also in crevices and whatnot. The chiefmost amongst them of course being:
As if I need to tell you that. The point is, I want to assemble a book of these Scurvy Survival Stories and cleverly call it: Scurvy Survivor Stories.
Perhaps with a catchy subtitle (much catchier than the one above).
What I’m saying is that I don’t want to write the whole book myself. I just want to write one or two stories. The one about having half my brain eaten by Scurvy and maybe one about Scurvy beating me down with a crowbar or something.
So whether you’re on the roster of professional blogzine journalists here at TNB (I’m talking to you, in particular, Mr. Boose) or just an ordinary (extraordinary) person with a (made up) Scurvy survivor story to tell, I’d like to hear it.
Or rather, I should say: “The Editorial Staff at Skull & Bones Publishing” would like to hear it. I cannot vouch for their impartiality or even their courtesy, and I know for a fact you will not be paid a red cent.
Was there a Red Cent? In addition to a Red Buttons and a Red Skelton?
Nope. Not on IMDB, anyway. (That’s a relief, for some reason.)
Needless to say, a book of this nature is tailor made for the holiday gift giving season. And while you won’t be paid (all proceeds going to Scurvy Prevention and Awareness Campaigns), you’ll be able to promote yourself like we do here at TNB. A mention of your website or whatever. And rest assured, I won’t be paid either.
The perfect gift for the holidays!
That and a boar’s head. Obviously, I mean …
Man, you gotta love you a good boar’s head, man.
(This is an inside joke between me and, well, basically, myself.)
(Trust me, it’s funny.)