Get a load of Brutus!

(filtered stream of consciousness?)

Get a load of Brutus!

Brutus talks in his sleep. He takes up the whole sidewalk when he ambles. He leaves out the pickles and frightens the dog. Brutus has a lisp, and the kids all laugh at him. Brutus walks out to the supermarket and purchases far too many melons. Brutus has obsessive compulsive disorder and his pants do not match his socks.

Brutus flirts with the neighbour’s daughters though they are all underage. Brutus has a lemur for a chauffeur, and lemurs do not drive. Brutus once snapped a pencil in half just by looking at it, because he is so ugly. Brutus drove a flock of camels over the edge of a cliff, but it made him strangely unsatisfied. Brutus once attacked a pantry shelf with a safety razor crying ‘this is what unmakes a man – his blasted kitchen, woe to my devoursome belly!’ Brutus has pink eyes. He slips on marble floors and threatens the janitor. Brutus cannot do long division or tie knots like the boyscouts do. He flubs his belly flesh and creates gruesome undulating waves of flab. Brutus calls himself ‘El Condor’ and longs to be a professional wrestler; his signature move is The Swoop and he uses it on his pet mandrill Helga. Brutus has not had a date in 17 months, and wonders if women still have the same body parts he likes so much.

Brutus is a brute, a beast and a big burly burlap sack of a man. But Brutus has saved my life ten or twenty times, when I am under threat from the bard and the brain. So here’s to Brutus, my sweet grunting soulmate!