(The Joe)'s Autobiography Millennium 2
Homes & Other Places to Live - The Late 1980s

One day (The Joe) was eating at his lunch table and wouldn’t you know it, he dropped his sandwich and it tumbled under the table. (The Joe), never one to break tradition, was bent on continuing his 194 day streak of eating 49 sandwiches everyday for lunch. He was so bent he bent down to get the last sandwich and ate it right there under the table, on the floor, in the kitchen, in his house, in the city, in the nation, in the continent, in the hemisphere, in the world, in the solar system, in the galaxy, in the universe, in the multiverse.

As (The Joe) viciously ate the sandwich he realized that if he didn’t have a house to live in that he’d be satisfied living under his lunch table. (The Joe) sprung into action, hit is head on the table, passed out, and then woke up later and escaped from the overturned table’s clutches. (The Joe) began to write up a business plan in mustard one lettered sandwich at a time until finally, three weeks later, (The Joe) put his plan into action by literally digesting his congealed thoughts.

“(The Joe) had decided to start selling tables to the homeless? That can’t be right, someone get me my glasses. … By gum, that’s exactly what it says dear” said you.

“Well honey maybe they meant buying tables from the homeless” said your wife.

“No, no lookey here it goes on..” replied you.

(The Joe) had decided to start selling tables to the homeless as house shelters with a curtain attached to the side.

“Well honey that doesn’t seem like such a bad idea..” said your wife.

“You’re right get my coat and pile the kids into the Winnebago. I’ll grab our tables. We’re going to New York City!” said you.

“Hooray! New York City!” yelled your kids celebratoriously.

Your grandpa interjected, “Don’t you think you should finish the chapter before you go doing this?”

“Well ok, gather round family,” said you.

(The Joe) took his plans to the streets with his very own table attempting to sell it to any beggar he could find. (The Joe) soon discovered that he should have washed his table off and gone to the hospital to treat his head wound before trying to propagate his idea to the homeless.

“Wow dad (The Joe) sure is stupid” said your son.

“Now son, he does have a massive head wound so don’t be judgmental too soon” said you.

“Sure thing dad!” your son obediently replied.

(The Joe) didn’t have a ticket to the hospital so he asked for a ride from a bear. The bear didn’t appreciate (The Joe) riding on his back and calmly (for a bear) tossed (The Joe) into a dumpster.

After eating what he could find in the dumpster (The Joe) was back on his feet and raring to go, to the hospital that is. (The Joe) hit the ocean and surfed his way to an offshore hospital rig. He was bandaged up, told to eat less, and kept for six months by the government to perform experiments on. He was then imprisoned in an underground bunker surrounded by dirt for eight more weeks until his superpowers faded away.

(The Joe) woke up at his home forgetting everything, but a rumble in his tumble told him letter per letter about his homeless shelter plan. (The Joe) then took to the streets and soon sold his first table for 1 old hat and three teeth. (The Joe) was ecstatic about the profit and went down to Freddy’s Fried Food Greasy Spoon to quickly cash in his profit on some heart altering byproducts. (The Joe) was told by the health dept. that he could not buy food with teeth and (The Joe) sadly strode away like a river.

“Daddy I need to go to the PP Pot” said your daughter.

“Ok honey I’ll stop reading and wait for you” said you.

“Dad how can (The Joe) eat so much and get hurt so much and not die?” said your son.

“Well you see son it’s because (The Joe) is a fictional character just like me or your mother” you replied.

“But it says that this is his autobiographia. Wait, you and mommy aren’t real!?” stressed your son.

“Sorry my dear boy, I still get fictional and non-fictional confused” you apologized.

“Honey that still doesn’t explain why (The Joe) is so fat, stupid, and immortal..” started your wife.

“What am I a doctor?” finished you.

“Yeah dad you are” invoked your son.

“He’s right honey just because you threw your pager in the fireplace doesn’t mean you’re not a doctor. In fact didn’t you get your start an off shore hospital rig?” plodded your wife.

“I don’t remember any (The Joe) coming around with a head wound back then, I must have just missed him. I don’t know anything about it ok. No more than I’ve read in the book” you replied nervously.

Your wife questioned “Then why are we in his book?”

“Yeah what’s the deal dad?” your son inferred.

“You kids, ha ha, you sure grow up fast.. Look your sister is back.. Let’s keep on reading shall we?” you convexed.

 (The Joe) wasn’t licked yet and not just because of his fear of dogs. No, (The Joe) sold all of his possessions, excluding his tables and curtains, then gave all of his money to the homeless. He then set out on foot with 13 tables on his back dressed in 14 curtains and pushfully quoted his sales pitch to any homeless person he could find. And it went a little som’n like dis,.. hit it!

“Are you a Homeless Hannah or a Roofless Rufus? If you are I can put a roof or roof like substance over your head for the low low price of just $14. Yes you too can have a roost from the rain, shelter from the storm, a dugout to keep the bugs out. So what do ya say, can I see you or more importantly, can you see you under a brand new table house, complete with curtains, today?”

The homeless gang (The Joe) had spoken to jumped at the chance to each get a table house. They couldn’t wait to get their hands on them. They were so impatient that they jumped on (The Joe)’s back and grabbed table houses for everyone with their very own hands.

(The Joe) with only one curtain to his name was now homeless himself. (The Joe) was so destitute that he tried to sell himself as rentable sun block to beachgoers and proprietors with open windows. He made a few pence here and there but he still couldn’t afford to buy a table of his own.

“If only someone had come up with the same idea as I, then I would be able to buy shelter” (The Joe) thought.

“Hold on, how can we hear his thoughts?” asked your son.

“We can’t,” replied you “we’re reading them. Ok, you can only hear his thoughts because I read them aloud.”

(The Joe) went through the usual 5 Stages of Homelessness:

1.      Devastation- “Oh woe is I, everything is gone, gone.. My little house, my little car, my little tree, my little table.. Ah who am I kidding? None of them were little I was just abnormally large for no apparent reason!” sobs endlessly.

2.      Vain Hope- “I know I put some money away somewhere.. Let’s see when I was a kid I buried $37.18 in a time capsule just incase I’d become homeless one day. Hmm.. Oh no! I dug it up the next day for pizza money!”

3.      Bargaining- “Hey pal I’ll shine your shoes for a nickel, rake your lawn for a dime, do your fractions homework for a quarter, eat something disgusting for a television series deal..”

4.      Hunger- “Would you stop growling at me stomach! I’m hungry too! Ok!?!”

5.      Insanity- “I used wind & from the eight I learned of 12 sixes that helped me down the mountain. Blaharharharahh ha!”

Unfortunately for (The Joe) there are no cheat codes in real life but he made it through all five stages and was awarded the high score on the Hunger and Insanity stages. (The Joe) toured the country with his mad gaming skills and even guest starred in a movie with Fred Savage, the holiday classic, The Gizzard where he played himself, a homeless man, in a touching scene where Savage’s character, Korey, gives (The Joe) a never released Thanksgiving Edition Game Boy. Of course in real life (The Joe), Game Boyless, faded into homeless obscurity perhaps never to be heard from again.

“So kids what did you think about the chapter?” you asked.

“Umm it didn’t all make sense but it made me laugh because I didn’t know what else to do” frowned your daughter.

“What about you, generic male child? What did you think?” you asked your son.

“Daad I have a name you know” your son complained.

You mumbled, “Not according to your birth certificate..”

“Well I think that even though (The Joe) was a crazy guy, I’d still rather read my match book” your son eventually replied.

“Alright then kids, off you go to study” you brushed.

“Hooray!” your nerd kids said as they scampered off.

“What did you think dear?” you distracted your wife.


“Oh, well I think I need to study too because.. words can’t explain what that was..” you wife said as she backed and then ran out of the room.

“And what do you think (The Joe)?” you asked me.

“I’m surprised I didn’t drink any books in this chapter.” I said.

“Yeah I’m glad they left that buzz word garbage out” you told me.

“Hmm.. well I guess I’ll see you” I said while leaving.

“Probably not” you noted, “keep shining shoes, you’ll get that table one day. Oh and if you know anyone with a house that needs a dining room table let me know I’m looking to get rid of the one I’ve got.”

“Why not just give it to me?” I asked.

“Do you have a house? .. I didn’t think so. Now get out!” you ended the chapter yelling.

Previous Chapter Autobiography Contents Next Chapter

Information:


Credits:

Homes & Other Places to Live
Written by:  Emperor MAR
Written on:   May 18, 2007

Also Posted on:
AuthorNation
StoryWrite
LiveJournal

Piemerica.org House