Dude, are we cool?

I wrote this as a joke reply to someone on a forum after I apparently broke a rule where you can't have "text signatures." And that just wasn't cool, apparently.

Originally posted by Chippy: *gasp!* I see a text sig.

Dude, are we cool now? Is it cool? I want it to be cool, tell me it is.

Because if it's not cool, I'll do whatever I can to make it cool.

I mean, seriously, when things aren't cool, my whole day is thrown off. I can't do anything. I've tried doing things, anything, when things weren't cool, and it just didn't work out.

I remember this one time where me and BR weren't cool. It was rough. I just acted like it was cool, you know how people do that, where it was awkward by I tried to not make it awkward and it just made it more awkward but I would never admit it, that type of shit.

Work became a chore. Chores became work. My wife threatened to not make pancakes for dinner (the fact that we didn't have any pancake mix was just a half-assed excuse).

And so finally I just decided, "Fine, if he doesn't want things to be cool, then things just won't be cool and we can all go about our business in spite of the non-coolness."

So the sans-cool life, we both sort of just knew the other accepted it. And we were cool with that. With not being cool. It was nice, for a time.

But then some asshole had the bright idea to point out the irony in the fact that we were cool with not being cool. Who knows, it was probably me.

It was devastating. Our entire non-cool coolness was shattered. Instantly, BR and I were no longer cool with not being cool. We weren't cool at all.

Cool? Well, cool was out of the question. It was no where near a question mark, let alone an answer.

The days that followed were not very cool, at all. I mean, I went to work, and I think my wife made me pancakes, and that was pretty cool, but other than that, things weren't too cool. Except sex. Sex was totally cool. My wife let me do this thing where I stick it super-hard into-

Wait, that's another story.

Anyway, to segway, BR took it super-hard, too, though. His work was like a really hard chore that your parents give you when you get in trouble that they fucking know you can't goddamn do and just laugh at you as you attempt it. His chores were like work your boss gives you when you keep telling everyone in the office whether they are listening or not how you stick it super-hard into certain parts of your wife.

He was a wreck. Hell, he got in a wreck. A horrible one. Like, it was in the newspaper.

Well, not the wreck, but his obituary.

See, BR is... dead.

Dead.

Fucking dead.

Gone, and buried.

Well, he wasn't buried. The maple tree he rode his bike into was pretty thick and he got his head caught in one of those knots, like to where you can't really get it out without buttering it up real good, you know? Like when you're a kid fucking with the columns on your stairway and you're like, "Hey mom, check it out, I am totally in jail look okay." And then you realize, "Oh shit damn, my head is stuck. Jail sucks."

Yeah, it was like that, so the elementary school kids were looking at him with his head stuck and his neck snapped and his Huffy a couple yards away on its side with one of those cool mile-timers on it, and they said, "Fuck that, that shit is hilarious." And left him there and took the bike. There wasn't really any damage, either, it was a fluke. The thing turned out fine. I dunno, maybe it pulls to the right or something, but it was more than likely doing that to begin with and isn't even that big of a deal anyway. Hell, that was probably why BR crashed his bike into that tree to begin with. Things weren't cool enough for him to get it fixed.

So shit, man. Not being cool sucks, I've been there. A friend of mine fucking died. And got his bike stolen.

I don't want that experience to happen again. Not to anybody. But preferebly not to me. Because that wouldn't be cool.

So let's be cool man. Not being cool totally isn't cool, no matter what the cool kids let you believe. Because even though they say things aren't cool, they totally, totally are. Especially for them. But not for you.

So are we cool, dude?

If not, I can totally have my wife make you pancakes. Or at least tell you about how I stick them super-hard into her vagina.

Just like BR's head into that maple tree. See, with maple, the syrup's already in there. It's like dunking into some good ol', pre-microwaved Aunt Jamima's.

Ironically, that's my wife's name, too.

And that's some irony that we are all totally cool with. My wife's not complaining.

Neither is her OB/GYN. They often have weekly morning appointments and share a breakfast.

What a cool guy.

...wait. That's totally not cool.