Friday, May 15, 2015


The following is a copy of my high school Valedictory speech.  I never actually gave the speech because I was alcohol-poisoningly hung over - you'd have to ask me for that sad story though.


Good evening everyone.  Well, here we are graduating and, well, here I am.  Valedictorian.  When I'm finished, you just may be left wondering how I got to be valedictorian.  I know for a fact that I wasn't the one who tried the hardest, but I've been lucky, and I guess that's all it really takes to achieve goals.  But that's not explanation enough; when I'm done, you'll still be wondering why me.  So here's the answer up front.  I'm here because I can milk a cow.

There were a thousand places I would have rather been that night, but they needed my help on the farm, so I had to help out.   There I was, putting a milker on a cow, when suddenly time and space ripped asunder, and I was sucked into another dimension.  When I awoke from the darkness which ensued, I found myself on board a ship in outer space.

I later learned that mine wasn't the first case of this happening.  You see, a doughboy of spatial distortion had snuck on board this particular pirate ship (the S.S. Einser Koff) during a raid on the Europium Consulate, and had been causing trouble ever since by swapping members of the crew with beings from other dimensions.  I had been swapped with Jr. Lt. Bilkry, a man in charge of a large device that made the pirate ship move.

Now the space pirates were in trouble.  You see, for pirates, there are riches all around; you just have to get to them.  And without Jr. Lt. Bilkry, they couldn't get to them.  So, since they had no reason to kill me, (and because I wasn't completely opposed to the idea of being a pirate), they decided to implant computer devices in my brain so that I could work the large device and they could make some cash.  It sounded exciting at the time, and I learned quite a lot from the computers in my head.

However, after some time in my new job, I realized that it wasn't what I expected.  I was stuck in a small dark room, regulating temperature and pressure levels, pushing red buttons.  During my stay there, the only entertainment to be had was conversing with other crew members.  Although most of the people I met were quite average, there was one that stands out in my mind.  It was Mr. Fragson Deasmir, who was in a similar situation as me, except that he was a part of the attack squad.  I once asked him who he had been before.  He replied, "It doesn't matter who you were.  It only matters who you are."  Later that day while raiding a transport his computer chips misfired causing him to forget how to use his jet pack, and he flew headfirst into the ship and broke his neck.  He's dead now.  I've wondered what to make of that ever since.

Anyways, after more than two months on board the S.S. Einser Koff, the doughboy was still causing problems; almost half of the original crew had been replaced by others like me.  It was a boring day at work, and I sat only half awake in my chair.  Until, that is, I heard the diabolical laugh.  The laugh of a doughboy.  I cautiously opened my eyes and saw him, standing on the control panel.  His doughy eyes seemed to be staring back at me.  His chef's hat and blue trousers seemed innocent enough, but the pointed teeth lining that evil grin stated otherwise.  Several thoughts passed through my mind at that moment, such as "Should I lunge for him?" and "I wonder what he tastes like?"  After pausing a moment to think things through however, I simply asked if he could send me back.  "Mister," he replied, "they'll never even know you weren't here."  When I awoke, I found myself back at the farm, milker in hand.  Three minutes had passed.  I guess sometimes you just have to ask.  After that, there's not much else to tell, except that I used my digitally enhanced brain to get good grades and become valedictorian.

So there you have it.  The moral of the story, you ask?  There is none.  Bet you weren't expecting that.  But in real life, being successful doesn't always mean living up to other people's expectations.  Sometimes the only thing that matters is being true to yourself.  Au revoir, mes amis.


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