This Just In! American Dream Found Dead

It breaks my heart to report this. It is a true tragedy. Last night, the American Dream was found dead in a back alley in Studio City, California. He had sustained multiple gunshot and stab wounds and was covered in what appeared to be Monopoly money. “ Why Studio City?”, was the first question that needed answering.

Apparently, the American Dream had been on the lam there since 1972 and had been working undercover on the Price is Right. He was the guy responsible for securing all those nifty prizes at rock bottom (read FREE) prices. Not an easy job for a manifestation born of hard work, determination and inspiration. In just three years after his work on the show, The disillusioned American Dream began a decent into depravity that he chronicled in a journal uncovered at his dingy one bedroom apartment. Here are a few excerpts:

“After I lost everything in the first stock market crash, I thought I’d never forgive myself. Then I got my first credit card. I haven’t forgiven myself since.”

“The 80’s were a blur. Barker’s Beauties, cocaine, alcohol and the Bohemian Grove all mixed together into this drug addled excitement. I came back to my senses at a bar in Tijuana, Mexico in 1994. I should’ve stayed.”

“Walked out of a bar with Bob [Barker] tonight. Saw some dude walking his dog. He didn’t have the mutt neutered. Bob snapped. Last I heard the poor schmuck was still in the hospital. Remember folks, spay and neuter your pets or Bob will bash your face in!”

“I’m being watched. The banks and credit card companies have been on to my location for 10 years now. Bastards stole all my gold and now they want my cash. Yesterday, I saw a credit card goon across the street from the studio. People said he was asking about me. Said it concerned a ‘personal business matter that required my prompt attention’. I’m gonna start carrying a knife.”

The above entry was the final one in the American Dream’s journal. The next night, he was found murdered in an alley. Police are baffled as to why his corpse was covered with Monopoly money. At this time, there is no suspected connection to the Parker Brothers organized crime family.

And I’m not just saying that because Rich Uncle Pennybags is standing next to me with a menacing blunt object. Really I’m not.

The American Dream is survived by his ailing Uncle Sam and all the women he loved before. As well as his 300,000,000 some-odd children whose only inheritance is an insurmountable mountain of debt.

Goodbye, American Dream, you will be missed.

Advertisements

About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on March 1, 2012, in Author, Fiction, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Great post! Everything about this post is wonderful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: