My Encounter With Mandeep

It has been a long, long time since I've written a real blog. Since the pandemic days, in fact. But this warrants it. So there I was, going about my usual afternoon busywork at the AVN compound, when I hear a call from downstairs: "Hello?" I thought I heard my co-worker moving in that direction to see what was up, but then a few minutes later: "Hello?" Looked like it was gonna be up to me. So down the stairs I plodded, and immediately found myself face-to-face with a short, pudgy, balding man seemingly of Indian descent, whom I will call "Mandeep" for the purposes of discretion.  "Hello sir, is there somebody I can talk to here? This is the AVN?" he asked me. "Well yes, what do you need?" I asked. "I have traveled so far, I just need to talk with somebody who can help me," he implored. "OK ... what's happening? What's your question?" I persisted. "I want to find out how can I get into the industry?...
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I Have a Cap'n Crunch Lodged in My Throat

Well, it's actually an imitation Cap'n Crunch — the Ralphs knock-off brand, known as Crisp Crunch, which I bought because of being a cheap Jew bastard — but it looks and tastes the same, and is every bit as irritating in its current location somewhere just beyond my uvula. I gagged on it a little, see, because it started going down the wrong way, and it was just on that brink where I could have spat it back out if I acted quick enough, but instead I swallowed, and now it's stuck in Wrong Way Town. This is a bitch. DAMN YOU, YOU CAP'N CRUNCH IMPOSTOR!!!!!!!!!! If you were the real Cap'n Crunch, you would have no doubt navigated your way down the correct corridor without any problem. Got a scalpal? Or at least a bottle of whiskey? Maybe if I drink myself into oblivion, I can just puke you up. Now that's using the ol' noggin'!

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