2016 has nearly ended, but the numbers are already in. As of December 28th, the past year didn’t only take away like nearly every celebrity that we actually still wanted here, it also was the worst year, on record, for vacuum-related fatalities. Or, at the very least, that’s what Phil said.
According to Phil, “a surge in vortex-based technologies has created a vacuum-medium rife with pedophiles and pocket-snatchers.” Yeah. Alright, Phil.
I tried to be courteous when asking him to leave. He seemed oblivious to my cues, as he sipped his flask while pointing at god-knows-what on the ceiling screaming “Holy fuck, this is worse than an ORECK!” He kept lighting cigarettes in the house. I’d say, “we can’t smoke in the house.” He would nod, then he’d just light another one- not even 10 minutes later. This went on until, eventually, I said let’s go smoke in the garage. He took it as an invitation to continue with the damn vacuum story.
“You know where they got the name vacuum?” Jesus Christ… no, man. No. I don’t. “Comes from the latin word Vak, meaning thing that which sucks air with power; and the hebrew phrase ‘yu youm’, an iteration of the greek word ‘yo-YUM’- a part of ancient pagan rituals in early Sumaria.” I said to Phil, “That’s nice, Phil.” When he took a deep breath, I had some idea of what was coming. Here it is dictated:
“50 fuckin’ babies man! Babies! Not kids. Babies. The kids. There are like million. You think one didn’t get killed by a vacuum? Then you don’t know vacuums and you don’t know kids. There was this thing in the paper, or the tv, or in some dream I had, about this family that was murdered on CHRISTMAS DAY by a Dyson. A dyson, man! It vacuumed so good that they didnt even find the bodies. There wasn’t even a house by the time anyone showed up. And the vacuum- it vacuumed itself. No trace of any of it. Everyone worried about robots and shit and what the fuck with the politics. Oh, big deal! Some idiot you didn’t want is in big white house. Fuck you. I’m leaving, man. Unplug your vacuum at night, always and you should get a vacuum safe if you’re gonna have those romans around. Okay. Goodnight.”
Phil fell to the kitchen floor and bled a little. Out of respect for his weariness, I let him be. Until the morning time when I kicked his stomach, told him briefly about the story I just told you, and had him sleep the rest off in his car in my driveway because Phil’s a dick anyways, so it’s not that mean, actually.
-Contributed by Louie Fox