Brian Allan Ellis 

I hurt myself today to see if I still feel but I have Attention Deficit Disorder and can’t seem to focus on the pain, and one thing I miss about the ’90s is all that sick art made about/inspired by heroin and depression, and also the Spice Girls, I miss the Spice Girls, and Becky #1 from Roseanne is my main dawg, and Becky #2 from Roseanne is my side dawg, and my spirit animal is that one Ugly Kid Joe song (you know the one), and “It doesn’t matter. Nothing really does…” is my wacky sitcom neighbor catchphrase, so cue fake audience laughter/applause, and if you suddenly hear the opening of Friends coming from your actual neighbor’s apartment, cue just the “I’m no Superman” part from the Scrubs theme, and maybe we can win a midlife crisis Hoverboard on eBay and then stick it in a corner, and I’ll ask if you’re feelin’ some “Smooth Criminal” and you’ll say yes and I’ll put on Alien Ant Farm’s version, and if you sext me a photo of an Arby’s Beef ’n Cheddar Classic I’ll dump a shoe box full of Debbie Gibson cassingles out onto the floor, but if you text me “let’s hang!” I’ll flush my flip phone down the fucking toilet, and my finishing move is “The Stone Cold Bummer,” which is when my opposition cautiously backs away as I list all my shitty life decisions, and you’re finishing move is whenever you face swap with Jason Batemen-era Teen Wolf and it kills me, and yes, there was every intention of being productive today but instead I decided to stay up till 3 am getting lit on Mountain Dew Livewire and watching documentaries about serial killers, so please, by all means, endorse me on LinkedIn under the skill labeled “God of Fuck,” and you’re right, watching serial killer documentaries bum me out because I’ll never be that dedicated to anything, so let’s swipe left on a heavily filtered photo of our tears while reaching over to turn up PM Dawn’s “Set Adrift on Memory Bliss,” and yes, I initially thought LiveJournal was a place on the Internet where one could express their love for the band Live, but boy was I wrong, so here’s everyone leaving Facebook in January but returning in February, and here’s old garbage millennials have never heard of because they’re busy knowing about current garbage hence garbage takes on many forms/spans time, and here’s a random list of the best albums so far this year that you streamed/downloaded for free then forgot about because you don’t really value music, and shit, let’s live-tweet a YouTube video of the 1991 MTV Video Music Awards, and let’s finally admit that the Clueless movie soundtrack is and will always be our favorite album of the year, and maybe someone will replace all the percussion to the classic Star Wars theme with Metallica’s St. Anger snare drum sound, and I’ll compliment your new bangs by saying they remind me of mid-’80s-era Iron Maiden, and we’ll watch Rocky but root for Paulie, or maybe you prefer Evanescence’s “Bring Me to Life” music video with the sound off/subtitles on like it’s a French art film, and we’ll make a statement by celebrating Mother’s Day at the mall food court, and we’ll eat fried bologna sandwiches on Cinco de Mayo, and if you plan on dropping the mic after serving someone, remember to bring a mic from home because sound engineers don’t like their stuff damaged, so cue a morose saxophone lick à la Saved by the Bell incidental music, and let’s turn Dollywood into Daliwood by dropping a shit-ton of acid, and let’s think long and hard about why food porn isn’t called “Feastiality,” and maybe we’ll find our online daddies, and even if that one Linkin Park song (you know the one) rattles somewhere in the back of our minds until we eventually die, let’s still fantasize about watching YouTube tutorials about how to make homemade versions of those Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vanilla pudding pies that were inexplicably discontinued, or maybe we can just be lazy strippers who perform “nap” dances instead of “lap” dances, which are the only dances that matter besides “dirty” and ones involving wolves, so what do you say, contemplate my dorm room Scarface poster and chill?

BRIAN ALAN ELLIS is the author of three novellas, three short-story collections, a book of humorous non-fiction, and Something to Do with Self-Hate, a novel. His writing has appeared at JukedHobartMonkeybicycleDOGZPLOTHeavy Feather ReviewConnotation PressElectric LiteratureVol. 1 BrooklynLost in ThoughtFear No LitThe CollapsarBullTalking BookPeople HoldingReality BeachLiterary Orphans,Queen Mob’s Tea HousejmwwHypertext Review, and Atticus Review, among other places. He lives in Florida.