Sleep Talkin' Man Read Free Page B

look at me again, I’m gonna bugger your fucking eyeballs and eat them, so you stare at my shit.
    Flowers for the lovers, schnapps for the thinkers, death to the vegetarians … I don’t care if you eat fish, you give yourself that stupid name, you deserve all you get.
    What do you think you’re doing? Totally inappropriate behavior. Now sit down, put the electric sander away and concentrate on your art project, please…. Monkeys!
    Cuff him! Arrest him! I don ’ t care, that manatee is going down!
    What do I think? Oh, I think as soon as I finish this sentence, I’m gonna kill you.
    I want Viking horns. Fuck-off big pointy ones. Yeah, Vikings. I’ve got an urge to pillage your ass.
    Don’t. Don’t! Oh, don’t exfoliate your labia.
    Everyday I wake up and I think, I look more and more like the perfect me.
    Fucksticks! That’s it, I’m not playing anymore. Just give me back my tiara and my sash and the purple monkey.
I’m outta here.
    You’re never too old for Legos…
Suck my balls, dumbfuck.
Building shit is fun.
    If you make me read Plato, I’m gonna punch you in the penis.
    Look at them staring at people like that. Your boobs are so obnoxious.
Uch.
    I’ve weaponized this pumpkin. Yeah.
Just for you.
    Never before have I had the opportunity to ride one of these wonderful creatures.
I’m gonna take it slow, and make it last all day. Mmmm-hmmm.
I love saddling up my hamster.
    Oh, stop crying, emo. You can write it all down if you want. Then at least I don’t have to listen to your fucking whining.
    Oh! It ’ s so cute.
Now put it back in the fucking box.
It makes me want to puke.
    Oh for fuck’s sake! Double chocolate-chip cookie doesn’t mean two chocolate chips per cookie! You’re so literal! God!
    I’m so lucky to have disciples like you—FRIENDS, friends like you.
    Okay, Jesus, if you are the son of God, wave your hands in the air … Ha ha.
Didn’t think so.
    You’re a cock and a fuck-up. Any further complaints can be directed toward my ass, where I’m sure you’ll receive a warm response.

    Yeah I want a bike with 128 gears.
Fuck off, I’m not gonna ride it, schmuck.
I wanna BRAG about it.
    â€œYou can stop clapping now if you want. Really. You’ll need your energy for cheering me later.”
    No question about it, Adam’s alter ego loves an audience. I think Sleep Talkin’ Man’s taste for the spotlight goes right back to that February night when he gave his debut performance. I loved it so much, it’s no wonder he stuck around. The more I delighted in his antics, the more prolific he became. Like a child, STM seems to thrive on positive reinforcement, and sulk when he’s angry. On those rare nights when Adam and I go to sleep upset with each other, I never get a peep out of him, as if he’s punishing me. On happier nights, he regales me with extended bouts of hilarity.
    â€œThat’s it. Your family: one big giant cluster-fuck.”
    Perhaps a look at the extended family in which Adam grew up offers some insight into STM’s love of the limelight. This sizeable ensemble of uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins, and second-cousins-once-removed frequently congregates, generally over food. These are high-spirited, raucous affairs at which the stereotypical understated Englishman would get lost in the overlapping cacophony of playful political debate, embarrassing anecdotes, and low-brow humor. But everyone in this crowd manages to hold their own. There is something very, well, Jewish about these lively family gatherings, which I found instinctively familiar and comforting, being so far from my own family and culture. It was heartening to find that, even in a society that is known for its reserved disposition, Jewish exuberance shines through.
    Maybe it was a result of growing up as a member of this boisterous bunch that Adam developed both his joy in performing