Rubber Dub Dub


Not long ago, I began my morning as I do most mornings: contemplating buying 50 thousand rubber chickens from a factory in China.

Let me explain.

You see, a great man once said that to know the rubber chicken is to know the heart of America. Specifically it was a very important person in my life who said that. Someone I have tremendous love and respect for.

Me. It was me who said it.

I was looking through the inventory of a popular novelty and gag gift site, as is my way, when I realized it. Why not just buy these directly from the factory? How much markup is a man supposed to pay on his investments in novelty and novelty related items?

No longer would I be a chump like the rest!

It took some sleuthing but I found a factory. In China. But they only moved their rubber chickens in batches of 50k.

Cause the Chinese ball hard like that son.

I don’t have room to store that many crates of rubber chickens. It did cross my mind to buy a house. I could buy a house and live in it and then…

Yes. And then what John?

Like the air from a whoopee cushion my dream began to waft away.

So I let it go. I let go of my crazy vision of becoming a rubber chicken baron. Because I’m an adult. And adults don’t do that.

Also I’m pretty sure the factory kept the cost down with slave labor. Which I’m totally against because everyone knows machines make better stuff than slaves.

So I remain a chump like the rest.

And I felt sad until I remembered I don’t actually own or want any rubber chickens and the whole episode was simple madness. I think that until the next day when I again consider my rubber chicken empire.

“Why do you even want any rubber chickens let alone 50 thousand?”

I didn’t choose the hyuck life, girl. It chose me. I think it all goes back to when I was a little boy and awesome and then stayed that way and am still awesome.

All I can say is I got that rubber fever. And the only cure is 50 thousand rubber chickens that I will then sell or maybe just keep and laugh at whenever I see them.

Until that day I’ll just remain a schmuck, buying my gags at the store like some asshole.

That’s just life.

That’s just how it goes.

Sometimes you’re the hyuck hyuck, and sometimes you’re the wah wah.

About mcgettigan

Writer and reader.
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