He’s thinking about girls in knee high boots and the theme to Iron ChefApril 25, 2012
“They’re among us,” I say.
“Who’s among us?” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.
“Mind readers,” I say. “People who can hear your thoughts.”
“Cat minds cannot be read,” says Bernie. “Our thoughts are too complex for humans to comprehend.”
“That may be true, but they’re out there, those mind readers,” I say. “And I figured out a way to find them.”
“Does it involve fire?” says Bernie.
“No, it requires thinking really hard about skullfucking,” I say. “Horrific, violent, rapeful skullfucking.”
“How does that ferret out mind readers?” says Bernie.
“I look for a reaction,” I say. “Imagine you’re a mind reader and you’re just going about your business, hearing everyone’s thoughts and then someone pretty pointedly is telepathically telling you they’re going gouge out your eye and fuck your skull. I don’t think you would take that notion with a stoic stiff upper lip. You’re going to react in someway, probably horrified.”
“But what if someone has a really good poker face about this sort of thing?” says Bernie.
“I have a back-up plan,” I say. “I just say pussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussypussy and wait for them to crack a smile or laugh.”
“If horror doesn’t work, break ’em with funny,” says Bernie. “They won’t be prepared for such a dramatic shift in strategy.”
“Indeed, mind readers are a tricky bunch,” I say. “But I’m ready for them.”
“And they probably already know that,” says Bernie. “They’re mind readers.”
“They can know, but are they prepared?” I say. “I contend that they are not and will have trouble becoming prepared because they don’t have time to prepare when they’re being bombarded with other people’s thoughts.”
“Pretty shrewd for a human,” says Bernie. “So what do you have planned for people who can move stuff with their minds?”
“That’s something I’m still researching,” I say. “Right now, all I got is kicking them in the groin, but that’s my defense against everything.”
“So how much time do you have on your hands to conceive of rooting out mind readers?” says Bernie.
“Less than you think,” I say. “My wild speculation time has been eaten into big time by the bullshit of life. I barely have time to scrape out a half-baked blog post and still maintain my schedule of drinking binges and cat video viewings. But you carve out what you can when you can.”
Maybe in the future my calendar will clear up and I can find myself a telepath girlfriend, which you think might be a bad idea but then again she’ll never ask the question “What are you thinking?” after sex, because she will damn right know that I’m thinking about nothing.