HD sat on a wall

My fellow bloggers, it is with great sadippness (sadly happy) that I inform you of my whereabouts of the last month. I am not a rebellious person, so when the opportunity arises to rebel, I take it by its castrated bull horns. I decided to rebel against blogging for a whole month, and what an even more rebellious act than to not start off the new year with a blog.

There were times, I admit, when I was tempted, but not until tonight has there been a relinquish of my rebellion. It is with great trepidation that I present this short (albeit long for a blog) story I am in the works of, that I may receive your loyal advice to further my aspiring dreams of becoming a hand model. How this story will further those dreams, it has not been revealed to me as of yet. For those of you still reading, I thank you. For those of you who actually finish the whole thing, I thank you more. If I were in the Miss America pageant, you would be my platform. Good luck.

HD Sat On a Wall

HD sat on a wall.

HD had a great fall.

He then underwent trauma surgery at Kingmen’s Hospital and was in the ICU for the next couple of days. Sitting on a wall will do that to you.

Long before the great fall, all the King’s horses told him he needed some activity. “You need some activity,” they said. “Do Wii® fit,” they said. “Sign up for the Biggest Loser®,” they said.

But HD just sat.

And sat.

And sat.

Soon a real estate mogul wanted that wall. He could see his 298.7 lbs. (his last cleanse had taken off a victorious .3 lbs) framed body dressed in a knock-off Armani® suit, chartreuse green paisley tie, three-hair-strand come-over and walrus like mustache, cutting the ribbon for a giant mall. 

It would have everything that the local Family Dollar store didn’t; complete with a JCPenny’s®, Claire’s® and a Hollister®. Hollister® was so very hot to have in a mall. Perhaps an indoor roller coaster…yes, that would bring more customers which would bring more money. But there, right where the food court would go, the mogul’s vision was broken like the interruption of your favorite television show with the news flash of a lame car chase, with HD’s wall.

“I’ll fry him sunny side up,” the mogul said.

“As long as you bring him home with bacon, dear,” the mogul’s wife said. She could care less about a mall, as she was an eBay® junkie who got giddy when purchasing 1975 deodorants in their original packaging.

The mogul decided to offer HD a proposition. “HD, I have decided to offer you a proposition. You get down off this wall and I’ll build you your own little wall out in the country. It will have a nice oak tree to shade it, some luscious blue grass to ground it and stone lion heads to adorn it. What could be better, hey HD?”

HD liked this. The once beige bricks were now a vomit splattered color (not a color found within the Behr® collection). They were crumbling, which caused a multitude of wholes like giant sized pores that even Proactiv® wouldn’t be able to clear up. This led to countless spiders and other varmints that HD considered roommates, but the kind you wanted to give away for free on craigslist.

His wall was covered in black letter and san serif neon graffiti with things like Your mom sits on a wall and Free the Idahoan Potato Snail. Interspersed between the graffiti was an assortment of bubble gum wads, his least favorite being Fruit Stripe®, as the gum’s flavor would hardly last the length of the wall and so there upon the wall it was disposed of.

But it was his home. This is where he sat.

And sat.

And sat.

So he wanted to tell the mogul no, but HD was an egg, so he couldn’t talk, or he’d crack under the pressure.

After the silence the duration of the space between a cricket’s chirps (which is based on the temperature, and the temperature that day was 74°), the mogul threw up his feet and said “your loss.”

Finding his wife anxiously awaiting the results of a 1988 Care Bear lunchbox in pristine condition, the mogul slumped his belly button under the table. “I’ll scramble him,” he said. “As long as you remember the cooking spray on the pan this time, dear,” the mogul’s wife said.

And so, one day, as HD sat on the wall, because he obviously didn’t do anything besides sit, the mogul got a 50 story crane and politely (he was a Southern man after all) knocked HD off.

HD had a great fall.

After being in the ICU for 3 days it was determined he wouldn’t make it. “I’ve determined he won’t make it,” Dr. McDreamy® said. They tried to find his relatives, but no one knew of any eggs that giant. Not even the incredible edible egg knew the origins of HD. “Some incredible egg he is,” said an innocent bystander.

Funeral arrangements were quickly made, for no one likes a rotten egg, especially one that size. The town gathered and respectively mourned, the mogul’s wife wearing an exact replica of Halle Berry’s 2001 Oscar dress. As chance would have it, it was the mogul who was chosen to give the eulogy.

“As chance would have it, I have been chosen to give the eulogy,” the mogul said over the microphone on a make-shift platform directly in front of HD’s wall. “We all saw HD sitting upon this decrypted wall night in and afternoon out and I’m sure we all wondered ‘why?’ Frankly, I don’t know why. 

"Being a Southern man after all, I try not to concern myself with other’s personal lives. Sure, there are rumors that he was raised in a hard-boiled type family, that his daddy Benedict would beat him with a whisk, or that his dear mother just didn’t have time for the whole dozen. He may have not ever gotten a grade A, double A or triple A distinction, but HD was definitely a large egg.”

What the town’s people didn’t know is that the murder attempt, ahem, accident, had caused HD to finally come out of his shell. He was actually just a 20-something kid, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. On the wall he was able to ponder the meaning of life and … During his great fall, he suddenly realized pondering the meaning of life only gets you so far, if you’re not actually living life then there is no meaning. 

When all shell broke loose, he ran.

And ran.

And ran. 

He ended up somewhere in Asia in the technology business. There, he was appreciated, especially by the Asians who revered long egg maturing practices. He was no thousand year old duck egg, but he was no chop suey either. His research led him to revolutionize (without Napoleon or his soldiers) a new way at watching television. He decided to name it after himself. “I’ve decided to name this after myself,” he said.

Back in that fateful town, the media mogul had built that mall, complete with the JCPenny’s®, Claire’s® and Hollister®. During the ribbon cutting ceremony, the mogul stood on a brand new wall, but as he bent over all 299.9 lbs (if he only hadn’t had eaten those three pee-can pies that morning) caused him to have a great fall. 

He then underwent triple bypass surgery at Kingmen’s Hospital, only to awake to find that his wife had bought his mall, parking garage included, on eBay® and ran off with the innocent bystander (who, as it turns out, wasn’t so innocent). He was now destitute. “I am now destitute,” he said.

Lying in his hospital bed, he used the remote to turn on the newly installed state of the art HDTV. There, featured on Dateline® was the creator of the very TV the mogul was watching; a man with an oddly familiar egg-shaped head, sharing his incredible (but not edible) life story.

“Looking back on my time on the wall, I consider it a very eggistentialistic moment in my life, one that I wouldn’t trade for all the walls in the world: The Great Wall of China, the Berlin Wall, and especially not Wall Street. 

"And real-estate mogul, if you’re watching, I just want you to know, the yolk’s on you.”