Sneaky Pete

Ben Stiller is a madman.

Yes, he is uniquely funny. I say this as I sit in a theater with my brother, watching Tropic Thunder. A large sized coke in one hand, filled with a pint of vodka, and me slipping into the Brown World.

Yes, kiddies, the Brown World. I'm homeless, penniless and drunk again. How did this shit happen. Well, I was minding my own business today, just doing my thing, which is surf the web. I came uptown to the library, to be near to IDC when I would go to therapy. It's not all that far away from the library. I was here to take it easy. There were no express tickets into the Brown World.

That was until I ran into my brother. He leaned over the top of half book case and said: "I've got some money. How about a movie." What movie is that? "Tropic Thunder. You pay for your portable and I'll take care of the film." Now how can a hobo say no to that, I ask you? I jumped on that like Mickey Mouse on Minnie. Fucking A. We split very early and headed to the nearest liquor store to get a couple of portables, two pints of vodka, and then off to the movies. We got there early enough to head upstairs and get our popcorn and soda. And of course, you know what the soda was for. You suck down half of that mother- fucker, then pour in your hooch, filling it back up. Stir. And then you have rocket fuel to last you the movie.

The movie was hilarious. I laughed my ass off. Or maybe it was the filter of the Brown World that made it very, very funny. And this time I had also learned my lesson. I had went to the movie early. Very early. This way we got out early. My brother and I had enough time to head over to Bryant Park and bullshit. Something that we do well when we're in the mood. My brother was also feeling very charitable. We stopped off at another package store and lifted two more portables, and took them to the park with us. I had a soda, and poured half into it, the other half I stashed into my bag.

We sat and took in the beauty of Bryant Park at night. Talking so much shit that there should have been a garbage truck behind us. Then it was time for me to take my drunk ass home. I was solidly in the Brown World and took it with me to the beautiful Box. Everything was perfect in the Box this night. I strolled into the dorm and took a seat. Robert, who was sitting on the windowsil across from me, asked it I had been drinking. It seems funny to me that everyone here watches each other closer than the Techs do, and can tell, with frightening accuracy if one of us is drunk or not. Robert and Igor found me out before I could open my mouth. I waved them silent and crawled into bed. It was time to retire early. With over a half a bottle of hooch still on me, I offered some to Robert, who too a belt in his coffee with much joy. The rest I poured into one of my San Pellegrino bottles after drinking half of it down.

The San Pellegrino bottle went into my headboard, the bottle of vodka went into the nearest garbage can. As you can see, even in the eye of the storm, I fuck around. One day I'm certain that they will find me out here. These motherfuckers will catch me in the act and the consequences will be dealt to me dearly. But until then, the motto is: "Fuck 'em in the ass and feed 'em pork and beans." Or as I like to say: "Fist 'em hard, Fist 'em deep."

I crash to sleep, and I have pleasant dreams. Real nice ones. The ones that you hate to realize that they are just that. Dreams. I wake up quite stupid, and my alcoholic charge is on discharging. Rolling my way, like a wild wind storm, is a fucking hangover to beat all hangovers. I think seriously about that, and then reach for my bottle of San Pellegrino over my head. After two long draws I push back the hang. I know it's coming, but just not today. I'll ease back into real life slowly, painlessly.

I hop up and eat some gawdawful oatmeal from the kitchen. It actually tastes like I would imagine a bowl full of elephant cum would. I threw almost all of it out, and then went back to bed. I napped for another hour and had ANOTHER wonderful dream that I hated waking from. I slipped out of bed at the sound of 'Hot Breakfast' and headed back into the kitchen for the second attempt at breakfast for the day. Sausage and pancakes. Honestly, the sausages were tolerable, in fact the first two was quite delicious, although by the third, the greasy, fatty byproducts in the fuckers were making me ill. I could hardly eat the dried pancakes, which should have been called, circular brown crackers. The coffee: brown, useless water.

Today, it would be time for a real breakfast. I was pissed. The Brown World emphasizing my emotions to action. I got my shoes on, made my bed and grabbed my gear. I was heading out into the day and getting my ass something decent to eat for breakfast.

This bullshit was getting tiring.

Fuckers.

Hobobob