I didn’t even want to be here.
And now my parents or legal guardian will find out and I’m going to be in big trouble. And then I can’t ask you-know-who (not Voldemort, duh) to the prom. And then my life will be ruined.
All because I let my friends talk me into this stunt.
We should have stopped, but we didn’t. We couldn’t.
This is a bad sign.
I should have been octagone by now.
I am soooo grounded.
I am Cone Alone.
Fuzz.
Pig.
Fascist.
I’ve had all the derogatory sobriquets slung at me.
But I keep walking the beat.
And I keep running into some of the worst society has to offer.
“Hey. Just what do you think you’re doing here?”
“Yeah, you. This area is for authorized personnel only. I can’t have you just hanging around. Sorry, but you’ll need to move on.”
“Wait. Who’s that over there? You’re just not gonna make this easy are you?”
I never wanted to be a detective. I never wanted to be a chief.
I just wanted respect.
I am Cone Alone.
I already know that because I’m employed by the Conetral Intelligence Agency (CIA) I have limits on my political activities.
But thanks for the visual metaphor.
I am surrounded by heavy-handed idiots.
I am Cone Alone.
Why did I buy this novelty trap?
The harder we tug, the tighter the trap holds.
No! Don’t you dare tile me about your fucking political platform.
I can’t take this much longer.
I am Cone Alone.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess these idiots went a little overkill on the camp fire.
They really should just leaf things to me instead of branching out on their own.
At least that wood truncate the need to fix things later.
I elm annoyed.
I am Cone Alone.
I am not pumped to be around these losers.
I can’t intake it anymore.
I am Cone Alone.
I am so tired of you!
You never get me and you conestantly berate me.
If you’re not going to understand me, I wish you’d just pipe down.
I am Cone Alone.
I feel so alone in the universe. In my little corner.
No one else is out there.
I will never find someone to connect to.
Hello?
Can anyone hear me?
I am Cone Alone.
I had not seen these guys in years. I remember the first time I heard Look-Ka Py Py. I never had an interest in playing bass guitar until then. As soon as I heard them, all the licks stood out to me like a shamrock in a field of roses.
That was then.
I haven’t picked up a bass guitar in, well, longer than I can remember. When I heard they were playing again, I just had to go see them.
As I stood in the crowd, I looked around. Surrounding me were cones clearly into the music, into the sound and grooving to the funk. Me? I was in a funk of my own. How could I have come so far from my love of music? Why was I working 50 hours a week at an unfulfilling job?
I wish the slap of the bass would slap me awake.
I am Cone Alone.
Thanks so much for the help you lazy-ass cone. No, really. I’ll just pull this post by myself. Don’t worry about me at all.
My life is such a drag.
I am Cone Alone.
Cone Alone 