Michael Webber Writes

The closest I get to fan-fiction.

"My father ate like shit before me, and his father ate like shit before him. I guess sometimes you just can't control this kind of thing."

“Well, now I just look ridiculous.”

CHICAGO, IL — Horrified onlookers report that an unidentified man outside of a local coffee shop is just going to absolute town on a croissant right over his laptop’s keyboard. “That kind of total disregard for the cleanliness of his keyboard is pretty hard to watch,” says Ben Stesin, who's seated a few tables over from the man. “He's going after that thing as if he won't be trying to blow crumbs out from under his spacebar for weeks.” Other witnesses have substantiated the claim that the man is truly giving this pastry the business like you wouldn’t believe despite the irreversible repercussions of such a ravenous eating style. “There's just no attempt to eat it in a way that won't result in a complete shitload of croissant flakes landing right on his keys,” Stesin confirmed. “Like, no attempt at all. He's just fucking housing it.”

"It's, like, one of those desert plants, right? What does that mean? What does it want from me?"

"When you sell a product with the slogan 'L'eggo my Eggo,' it sends a certain message about how your product will be consumed. To insinuate that people will be trying to steal your waffles from me with enough frequency that you felt compelled to spend your hard-earned advertising dollars to disseminate a boilerplate response is honestly just irresponsible. I've gone through life guarding my toaster like a momma bear protecting its cub because I was led to believe that anything less than complete vigilance would result in some fucker taking my waffle. One of your commercials even portrays a grandma flipping over her family to be the first to the Eggo. I was prepared to fend off superhuman feats of strength and agility just to enjoy a — if we're being honest — pretty mediocre breakfast. And now, after all these years, I'm starting to suspect that this uncontrollable desire for waffles will not overcome everyone in my house every time I pop one of your shitty discs into a toaster. I feel lied to."

“I was told I’d end up as a member of a race of gods rendered in flesh and bone, masters of all domain. Not a guy who had to get a hemorrhoid removed at 34 and still eats Philly cheesesteaks on a regular basis. What a waste of 4 billion years. God can blow me.”

"I ask you: are we, as humans, not afforded the opportunity — nay, the responsibility — to shed the oppressive yolk of hierarchical organization and pursue our own selfish endeavors above all else? Is to indulge in myopic self-interest not the very foundation upon which our identity as a species has been constructed? I, for one, am of the opinion that indeed it is."

HANOVER, NH — Local father Rob Tallow, 44, was reported to have mimed the entirety of the piano solo from Steely Dan’s “Fire in the Hole” on the dashboard of the family’s Toyota Sienna during a routine trip to visit Grandma Tallow. “He loves Steely Dan for some reason,” said his wife Heather, 42. “Once Fire in the Hole came on, there was just no stopping him. He knew every note.” Tallow’s children reported contradictory feelings of embarrassment and begrudging respect for the unrelenting stamina of their father. “Dad just left it all on the fucking dashboard,” Tallow’s son Luke, 16, said of the spectacle. “Like, just absolutely shredded. And that solo has some meat to it. It clocks in at almost a minute and spans a couple octaves. Dad wasn’t afraid to let his fingers do some walking. He really explored the space.” Tallow’s family also noted the authenticity of his performance. “Oh yeah, he was hunched over close to the wheel just letting it fly,” Luke continued. “He even closed his eyes and threw his head back for a few bars, but mom wasn’t too thrilled about that. I figured that if he veered off the road and killed us all, at least he’d die happy.” As of press time, Tallow is reported to be lightly sweating and repeatedly yelling “woo!” while fanning himself with his hand. “I’ve never seen my husband so passionate about something in my entire life,” his wife added.

NORWALK, CT — In a move deemed “wholly unnecessary” by his friends, local asshat Jeremy Vallenci, 26, announced to his roommate Austin Reed, 25, that he was going to “P some I” Thursday evening. “I didn’t even know what he was talking about at first. He had to explain that it was short for ‘pumping iron,’ so it didn’t even, like, save him any time or anything,” said Reed. “And he just kind of slid it into the conversation like I wouldn’t notice. I think he was trying to see if I would call him on it.” Since his first attempt, Vallenci has reportedly stood his ground and is now using the phrase frequently. “The most unsettling part is that he must have been saying ‘pump some iron’ enough to feel like he needed to shorten it," Reed added. "What kind of life is that?”

"Alright, boys, this is the big leagues. Act like you're meant to be here."

"I really couldn't give less of a shit about how you used it to make some invitations for your fucking vegetarian barbecue. Just show me which drop-down menu I need."

"This ain't my first rodeo."