You May Briefly Peek at My Wonderful Shirts

Hello. Thank you for being on my lawn. Please, come closer.

No, this is not a yard sale. These are my most precious things, including my beans basket and my problem chair. I put my special things on the lawn because I hate and distrust my vile House. The sign that says YARD SALE is very valuable to me, and I would never sell it, not even to the richest man alive, Herman Wilgus. It is French for “Filthy Yard”.

What’s that? You’re wondering what’s back there, behind those ghastly shrubs? My friend (you are my friend), you are in for a treat. I will now allow you (my friend) to quickly look at my fabulous shirts.

I have precisely six shirts, one for almost every day of the week.

Don’t be afraid. Look at my incredible shirts.


This shirt fills me with wild abandon! There is no other shirt that so represents my rebellious side. This shirt makes me want to cause trouble and ruffle feathers. Usually I do this by prank-calling my hideous sister with the “news” that her son has been found. I identify with Barts Simpsons, a swollen yellow freak who is despised by the world at large. He is enormous and he rains piss on this war-torn nation!

I wear him on my front with pride. Here’s to You, Iraqi Dudes, indeed! Enjoy the piss!


I call this my Hawaiian shirt because it’s what I was wearing when I was nearly strangled to death with a lei at the airport. This is the ultimate relaxation shirt. Just one look at this shirt and suddenly I feel like I’m laying back in a pool of my own blood again.


I fear this dangerous shirt. I will never leave the house wearing it, unless it is safely covered with dirt. This shirt is strange and powerful, and I must keep it under my watch lest some common fool becomes entranced by its incredible promises. Do not make direct eye contact with this devious shirt!


I wear this shirt to show I support our brave men and women in uniform. I wear it with a certain solemn dignity. Even if I have fallen into a manhole or have been mistaken for trash and thrown in the back of a garbage truck, I will always take a respectful moment to thank those who fight to make this all possible. Sember Fi!


This is the shirt I wear to work. I’m the guy who stands in buildings as they’re being demolished to make sure they’ve collapsed all the way. If they can still see my reflective shirt through the rubble, then they know to toss some more dynamite my way! Thank you, my humble and hardworking shirt!


This is my fun shirt. This is the shirt I wear when I am simply looking to have fun. Do not stress me out when I am wearing this shirt! I will freak out and kill you!


So that’s it, my friend. Those are my fabulous shirts. Each one fills me with pride. I want to buy a second, larger house so I can give each of my shirts their own room. This is my dream. I dream as large as my big shirts.

I can see it in your eyes…you covet my shirts. No need to deny this, it is only natural. These six shirts shall forever be — hold on. Why are you so eager to get your grubby mitts on my wondrous shirts? Did that dastardly House send you? Away with you, you foul creep! Keep running, you loathsome swine! Be nice to me! Get lost!

I should have known better. My shirts are not safe here. I must bury them at once.