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Public Domain By Allan Smithee Billy: Gosh, I wish I could write great stories. David: Hey kid, I think I can help you out? Billy: Are you the devil? David: I’m not the devil. Billy: I just want to be talented. David: I told you, I’m not the devil. But I do have something that will help you out. Billy: It’s a piece of paper. David: Read the paper. Billy: Read the paper? David: Read the paper! Billy: Pooblik dooman. David: Public Domain and I guess literacy. With those two, you can become the greatest writer in the history of everything. Billy: Greater than me? David: No. Yes. No, shut up. Billy: Wait I’m not a lawyer, I have no idea what public domain is. David: It’s very simple. It’s a magical place of ideas that you can steal from and never get caught. Billy: Like…like….I don’t know….I need a map to this place. David: Maps cost extra. How much money do you have? Billy: I only have idea money and this paper. I’ll sell this paper to you. I’ll sell it for money. How much idea money do you have? I have three. Now here’s the trick: if you thought any of this was humorous, I’ve got some shocking news for you. The stupid kid was actually suffering from Down’s syndrome. It’s now a tragedy, not a comedy. Look at me. Look at me stripping away the humor with reality. It’s glorious. It’s like giving the heel of a joke polio and then watching him for three months as the disease paralyzes his legs. Look how brave he is and he can’t even feel his legs. Try to laugh at him now fucker! Laugh at the cripple boy! Push his wheel chair down the stair you fucking bastard. He can’t even get up. Look! He’s just squirming around on the bottom of the stairs. There’s blood too. He’s dying and look at your hands. They’re red. Red with guilt and boy blood. You fuck! |
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