Kyle Bottom

To whom this may concern,

You saved me from being a sad, stupid fool. I wonder what exactly I did to deserve such a beautiful, intelligent, adorable, wonderful, funny, clumsy person. You fell right into my lap and it changed my life. Ali once said to me that falling in love is like meeting yourself. All of a sudden one day that beautiful person just shines on your life and you say “Oh, this is who I am”. That’s how I feel about you. I once said to you that you were the light at the end of a dark tunnel that I didn’t know was there. Well you showed me the way out and I’m happy to say that I like what I see. My future is bright, but it’s nothing compared to your smile, your eyes, your warm heart. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, or ever will. I’ll always put you first. Words can’t express…

I flew to kamloops last sunday on business. I had the pleasure of traveling with my good friend Ivan, which was nice because I hate flying. Planes don’t make any sense to me. I’m always concerned that the cabin is just going to tear open like so many christmas crackers, spewing it’s contents into the wild blue yonder.

Something took my mind off the perils of flying though. An asian man who was a dead ringer for David Suzuki. I was fascinated by this man.

“Ivan, do you think that’s David Suzuki?”
“I don’t know.”
“If I ask him, and I’ve guessed wrong… does that make me a racist?”
“Pretty much.”

Conflicted was my mind. I wanted to confirm my suspicions, but at the same time I wanted to avoid any awkward confrontations with a man who may or may not be David Suzuki.

As the plane began to board, we lost track of the Suz. That’s what I’m gonna call him from now on. I feel like we’ve forged a friendship in some regards, just by being in the same airport. As it turned out, he was on my plane as well. I found this comforting. This way at least if our plane was going to crash, I’d have a chance to ask him his true identity before my immanent death. He sat writing on a pad of paper the entire flight, and as we landed and began to unload he was off like a shot. Ivan and I waited for our luggage before going over to the rental car place, and as we walked there we lamented over the lost chance of solving our tiny mystery.

David Suzuki was standing at our rental car place. He pondered over the map of kamloops for a moment as Ivan side stepped him to get closer to the counter. Then The Suz turned away from the counter, walking toward the airport exit, and directly toward me. I felt like a matador being charged by a super intelligent environmentalist bull. I summed up what little courage I had and said “Um excuse me, are you David Suzuki?” To which the Suz looked up at my face, then down at the floor, and walked out of the airport without saying a word.

“So was it him?” Ivan asked me.
“Didn’t say…” I replied
So Ivan, being the problem solver he is, asked the guy at the rental car place to confirm the identity of the man who we then found out, was DAVID SUZUKI!

“I wonder what David Suzuki is doing in Kamloops?”
“Maybe he’s giving a lecture on POOR MANNERS!” I replied, still reeling from the sting of the Suzuki snub.

Fuck you David Suzuki. You were the most famous person I’d ever come across in my entire life. Would it have killed you to spare a minute of your time, or a few cubic inches of your breath to brighten up my day? How do you not save a young man hanging from the edge of a cliff, about to fall into environmental apathy. When all your guru hand had to do was will it and a tree would have grown from the valley below to catch me. You let me fall…

I hate the environment now. I have a jar in my house that I save spare change in. Once a month I will buy a stack of styrofoam containers and burn them, just cause I can. Then I will wrap the charred remains in old six pack holders and throw the whole lot into a fresh water source. All cause of you Suz… all cause of you.

Today I had the day off work because I had to go to north van to see a doctor about my back. The back is fine, and on the way back I was accosted by a retard on the sea bus. As he sat down to me I contemplated my luck in being the only person on the sea bus sitting in close enough proximity to the retard to have a conversation.

What time is it? 2:30
What Time? 2:30
How many hours until 5 o clock? 2 and a half
How many? 2 and a half
What about 5:30? What about it?
How many hours until then? 3
So in 3 hours it’ll be 5:30? yes

He had a watch. Analog

It was at this point that I had the brief feeling that maybe our conversation was coming to an end. Maybe I would be able to sit in peace for the next 8 minutes of my life… This was not the case.

Our conversation continued ordinarily enough with talking about the weather. He asked what I thought of the day. I told him it was very nice. He said it would be a good day to go to graville Island. Then we talked about bus routes and modes of transit for a while. He guided the conversation, as you would expect.

Then the topic of swimming was brought up. Now it was a warm day, so swimming didn’t sound half bad, and my doctor had just said that swimming could really help my back. The idea of swimming was nice. The retard asked if I would take a swim when I got home, and I said ‘Maybe I will’. I do not have a swimming pool in my tiny apartment, nor do I live near a swimming pool. The idea of swimming seemed good, and I wanted to believe that I could take a swim when I got home.

He asked me, “Do you take your shirt off to go swimming?”. Shirtless swimming is the standard, so I replied “yes.”. This made him quite happy. Really Happy. Too happy…

I realized fairly quickly that the idea of me with my shirt off aroused him a good bit. He took on a new demeanor. A crotch rubbing demeanor. I was fairly certain that he was forming a chub that very moment. In the following moments, as he placed his hands in his pants, my suspicion was confirmed. He was stroking. Had I been flirting? Was I giving out signals?

“After swimming, do you take a shower?”

No

Really?

No

I began to lie. Faster and better than ever before. All of a sudden I wore the same shirt every day, never took it off, didn’t know had to swim, and preferred to clean myself by jumping into a tyrannosaurus rexes mouth… the one place a retard won’t follow you. And I lied all the way to the other side of the water. This guy was trying to get off to a shirtless, showering mental image of kyle bottom. I had to block him. Until we were within throwing distance of the terminal, he asked me what time it was one more time then said his farewell. I took the opportunity to move to the other side of the seabus.

On the way out of the terminal I saw him pause at the bottom of the escalator, which meant I arrived there to a friendly greeting. I made sure we got on different escalators and finished our talks for the day as I walk up and away from him on my side.

What time is it? 2:40
I can help you get home. I think I got it figured out
You gonna take sky train or bus? I’ll flip a coin.
Sky Train is faster…

I was far enough ahead at that point that I just let it drop. I wound up taking skytrain if you’re curious.

I told this story to my friends. Some wondered why I would sit there and allow myself to be in this situation. My friend kate on the other hand took a closer look at the situation and saw that I was sitting in between some old ladies and a dude with a baby. According to her I took one for the team. I guess you could say that. I was doing my beset to diffuse the situation, lest it get worse. Retards don’t usually have the stamina for a full wank, but if they can actually pop one off you better run. Tard Cum evaporates instantly upon hitting the earths atmosphere. Inhaling these clouds of cum vapor can cause you to buy an SUV, vote conservative, have a mustache, or a she-mullet. The list is endless. I was trying to save the day by uninspiring his boner, but at the same time, it was really nice to know that there’s still someone out there who wants to see me with my shirt off.

Like most people I have almost died a couple of times. I almost died my whole life now that I think of it. Were it not for a medical miracle I would have been born dead, and most likely calcified. I was a C Section baby. If I had been born only 4000 years earlier my life may not have been possible. Cause yeah, maybe there were doctors back then. Those doctors might even have been able to remove the baby from my moms stomach. But how the hell was she supposed to get across the line of protestors outside the C section Clinic? Those people have a right to be there cause the sun god hates baby free’ers. But taking their kids along with sandwich boards saying “One more free = less food for me” is just bad taste. Never involve the kids in an ideological battle.

I don’t remember the worst day of my moms life. I’m not talking about the day I was born. It was the day my mom dropped baby Kyle on his head that she most regrets. If only she’d paid closer attention… You know those cement blocks that stop cars from driving onto the curbs out front of businesses? Well apparently those blocks also trip young, baby carrying mothers as they walk out of the bank. Life is hard enough having to carry a fucking baby everywhere.

Long story short I woke up and I’m not retarded. WEEEEEEEE. I have to say it’s come in handy. People are always asking me “Were you dropped on your head when you were younger?” and I get to congratulate them for guessing correctly. “Yeah I was dropped on my head David. Does that mean I’m off the hook now? I don’t have to continue this talk about how I was late coming back from lunch today? Cause that’d be great. My head kinda hurts I think I’ll go lay down in the first aid room for a while.”

The young perfectionist that I was, I attempted to turn my two close calls with death into a hat trick.

At the age of four I almost drowned while playing down next to the lake in my mothers childhood stomping grounds. The grown ups were visiting away up in a cabin while the kids were all playing at the lake side. I saw a stump out in the water and decided to go touch it. I remember it had all kinds of green algae stuck to it, and I found the colour enticing. Then next thing I know I’m drowning. I didn’t know I couldn’t swim, I was four!

I can only imagine that at that very moment where I struggled for life, my mother was up in the cabin answering questions about me.

“Sharleen, tell us about the miracle baby again”

“You mean ol’ lucky? Why he’s dodged death 2 times before he was 2. Once by my cooter and once by the cee-ment”

“Wow I wish I was an invincible baby..”

Sure enough one of my cousins could be heard running up to the house “Kyle’s Drowning, Kyle’s Drowning, Kyle’s Drowning”

“Well looky there Sharleen, he’s done doing it again! Grab the net and that gasoline, we’s gonna set that baby a burning.”

“That’s our lucky :)”

Growing up with the name Kyle Bottom wasn’t easy. Kids used to tease me. As the title suggests, early in my childhood, kids would tease me by stretching out the syllables of my name… And I found this to be infuriating. As you can expect from a wordsmith such as myself, I always had a witty reply. Like:

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I’M TELLING THE PRINCIPAL ON YOU!

or

I HATE YOU!!!! (Followed by the sound of crying)

I’m not sure why I let people get to me so easily back then. But the pain of teasing taught me to throw up emotional barriers. Keep me safe from hurting.

Around grade three a new element was introduced to the Bottom bashing. The old “Is your middle name…” followed by any of the following hilariously fake middle names: Touch my/smell my/harry. Oh the joys of youth.

At some point which I don’t remember, the joke became old. People stopped caring and so did I. Those that did still attempt jokes at my name were like robbers shooting superman. “You call that a weapon faggot?”. Now I’m not homophobic by any means but that comic was written in the 50’s and those were different times. I mean back then we were all on good terms, so pardon me for being historically accurate…

As I entered high school the battle entered a new phase. No longer was my name the only item on the table. Now my clothing quality was coming into play! That is dirty pool in my books. Once again I was being criticized for something completely outside of my control. My family couldn’t afford all the fancy Tommy Hillfigger crap that the “cool” kids were wearing.

The worst part of high school was that I bought in to all that crap. I made every effort not to make waves, or get in the way of the cool kids. I’m haunted by a time that I resisted the urge to punch someone because they were “cooler” than I was. Danny Huffam tripped me during square dancing in grade 8. I fell forward and knocked over the girl I was dancing with. I helped her up and asked if she was ok… and that’s all. I let a rich kid treat me like garbage cause I feared the backlash.

So now I am the backlash. I am striking back for everyone that was ever shit on. I am Kyle Baaaauuuugggghhhhttttuummmmm.

This is a nice example of misinformation.  That picture looks like it came out of Mad Magazine. I wonder what it says when you fold it together…