Using James Frey’s exciting prose style (no indented paragraphs, no quotations, and seemingly indiscriminate capitalization is so edgy) I’ve fabricated the following post using as many elements you guys sent.
My name is Jesus Dreyfus and I’m the toughest Mexican cop in Chicago. At one time my full name was Jesus Dreyfus DeJesus (I was born the year Jaws came out, my mom was big fan.) but I got it legally changed to just plain Jesus Dreyfus because Jesus DeJesus sounds kind of stupid. This is my story.
I walk into Dugan’s after a long shift on the Martial Arts-related crime task force. It’s been a Shit day and all I want is a stiff drink. I look at the Bartender. She knows the drill.
Jesus, you want the usual?
Make it a double.
She smiles and fills the glass.
I gulp it down and look at around. I see the last Broad I was screwing from across the bar. Too bad I didn’t have one of those invisible Capes. I’ve been trying to lose this chick for weeks.
Jesus, you look like shit, she says.
Thanks. It’s been one of those Days.
Why haven’t You answered my emails? What about my calls?
Look, I’m really not interested anymore. I thought you’d take the hint.
Goddammit Jesus, why are such a fucking Asshole?
She doesn’t think it’s funny.
There’s no chance for us?
A slim Chance maybe.
Like I said, a fat chance.
You know Jesus, that guy over there just asked me out. She glances over at this flannel-clad oaf next to the Pool table.
If you want to go with that crackuh, knock yourself out. He looks about as exciting as an Egg sandwich.
It’s cracker, Jesus. And he’s nice.
She throws her drink in my face.
Bitch! This is going to stain my new shirt.
It’s just club Soda Jesus.
Since when did you just drink club soda? You’re a fucking lush.
So that’s all the Ronco Blogomatic came up with! Thanks for playing.