A third wasn't enough and in other instances it wasn't enough even though what had been told was not enough to convince one that what they had been doing or how they were trying to better themselves was not enough and that was that wasn't even enough to those who felt that way and those who felt that way who thought it might be better at first and then learned better of it to realize it was not enough decided or convinced themselves they had no choice to let those they always knew were never enough to really just accept the reality that they were not enough and that was only the half of it.
"Which one of you is going to read?" she asked.
"Him," he said pointing at Ooph who was just starting to open a bag of corn chips.
"Why me?" asked Ooph fumbling with the bag.
"Because Neetassel is getting sick of hearing you drone on and on about how much other people drone on and on," said Starchcrust who stamped each of his feet twice until he stamped his right foot an extra time because he was trying to reset his gonads after becoming too uncomfortable with his penis retracting.
"Have you thought maybe about retracting that statement maybe?" asked Ooph who assumed the at ease position in order to unstick his ass crack.
"Why did you put it like that?" asked Starchcrust trying to imagine the last time he was a passenger in someone else's car and they suddenly slammed on the brakes.
"Put it like what?" asked Ooph who returned to attention in order to make another try at unclogging his butt canal with greater velocity.
"I think we before we proceed any further might want to consider how we that is how I think we before we proceed before getting anywhere because we are not are putting things so think about it," declared Starchcrust falling forward.
"What could I have possibly said that would lead to your making such confused expressions of asshattery," asked Ooph trying to wipe from his memory his inability to snap in half a frozen chocolate bar.
"Are you doing jumping jacks?" asked Neetassel dropping a breath mint onto the carpet where a group of ants were collecting their dead.
"Neither of you are going to remember Loser World's menu so I'll just diffuse any suspense that might have been piling up and offer a couple of hints that do not involve re-enactments of any lesser known upsets in sports history," said Ooph wondering if he was oblivious to yet another one of his organs failing.
"Reverse engines, constable, and give our dear lady of frayed patience a straight answer and then we'll leave you to your blithering," said Starchcrust conducting a test tap of his index finger to one of his nostrils and stopping suddenly when he experienced a sharp pain probably due to a sharp dried chunk of mucus.
"I didn't know a constable gets a turn at reversing the engines," said Ooph analyzing the slimy substance underneath a scab he had just peeled off of his knuckle.
"Do the two of you flatulent confabulators know what happens if I can't manage to chisel the two of you into getting this crappy-assed wreck off the ground?" threatened Neetassel producing a replacement breath mint and sighing heavily when she noticed it was broken in half.
"I want to apologize in advance for any additional ways we may prove inadequate in complying with your quality of life requirements," blubbered Starchcrust picking at crumbs of ceiling plaster that had accumulated on his bottom lip.
"And what about you? Are you going to apologize?" asked Neetassel seizing the opportunity while wondering about the shelves that collapsed in her linen closet.
"It's already too late for me to apologize in advance," said Ooph making a splapping noise when he sat down.
"What was that sound?" asked Neetassel after having opted to address the disgusting noise rather than the foul stench that accompanied it.
"Probably someone jumping out the window from the 17th floor again and landing in that pool of industrial waste build-up in that corner of the courtyard," said Starchcrust frowning at the piece of calendar he watched floating in the coffee pot.
"What corner of the courtyard?" asked Neetassel finally coming up with a 4-letter word for feces.
"The corner with the pool of industrial waste build-up," said Starchcrust thinking about the discoloration of the floor tile around the toilet in the bathroom at home on the 12th floor men's room in the back bedroom behind the fax machine room on the 22nd floor back when he was about 11, 12, 12th floor men's room next to the ladies when she walked out wearing the color that didn't belong in this desert haven't seen her in several months couple of years maybe she made it out of here who makes it out of here making out 17 in a dream that dried in the desert 17, 17th floor maybe tomorrow go up there and go to the window and look down at the pool of industrial waste build-up and then, "The pool of industrial waste build-up," he added.
"You already said that," said Neetassel.
"I did," said Starchcrust.
"Why don't you read?" asked Neetassel.
Starchcrust was silent.
"What? Afraid of the responsibility if you're successful?" asked Neetassel.
"And that's your apology," said Starchcrust.
"I'm not apologizing for anything," said Neetassel, "when I have you two numbskulls."
"Numbskulls? They could do better than that." said Starchcrust.
"Who could do better than what?" asked Neetassel.
"The kids who always managed to find me when I went out to the playground after lunch. They'd gather the crowd around me and try to get me to recite something or sing a song just because they overheard me singing a song I learned from a record I got from the library," said Starchcrust.
"Library?" asked Neetassel.
"They were these flat black vinyl things that you scratched with a needle to hear music," said Starchcrust.
"And what's a record?" asked Neetassel.
"Something we all get once we gather up enough particles to make a critical mass inside our mother's uterus," said Starchcrust, "and they'd gather a large crowd and then would stare at me not because they were interested in what I was singing or reciting but just because they had someone else they could tell what to do manage and I would try to find a part of the school I could hide and sometimes I'd find a little corner or those stairs that led to the locked door of the basement. That door was dark and I wanted to go in there but it was locked and then they found it and they would hang out there and ruin it and want me to recite or sing I couldn't bring myself to say no but I being on the spot that I had originally found as a hiding place was no performing place and they would become so disarmed and frustrated then they would really kick in the ridicule and leave me alone finally alone and they can't make me perform anymore that is as long as they can't find me. That door had to be locked until they found it and had someone to poke scratch me with a needle to make music. That door had to be locked maybe tomorrow look out the window on the 17th floor and look down on the pool of industrial waste build-up maybe tomorrow."
"You already said that," said Neetassel.
"Maybe tomorrow," said Starchcrust.
Sleep interrupted by the next morning under the desert sun the walls of the icetray burn hands that reach out chap and split lips of humor of entry into hiding in the wetness freezing slowly freezing within the walls of the icetray under the desert sun.
"You already said that," said Neetassel.
"Maybe tomorrow," said Starchcrust.
A third wasn't enough and in other instances it wasn't enough even though what had been told was not enough to convince one that what they had been doing or how they were trying to better themselves was not enough and that was that wasn't even enough to those who felt that way and those who felt that way who thought it might be better at first and then learned better of it to realize it was not enough decided or convinced themselves they had no choice to let those they always knew were never enough to really just accept the reality that they were not enough and that was only the half of it.
- Max Stoltenberg
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