Arthur Graham’s Reviews > Statue of Limitations > Status Update

This story begins with a man, a dream, and a statue. Or maybe it’s a man, a garbage fire, and an unfortunate problem.

I’m asleep in the dining room of a Church’s Chicken, and my face is stuck to the table.

The Ambien warning label is now required to have verbiage saying that in some rare cases, you may fly an AH-64D Apache Longbow attack helicopter and fire AGR-20A Advanced Precision Kill Weapon System precision-guided munitions at ground targets in your sleep, and you should talk to your doctor immediately if this happens.

I think that Jedi perfectly summed up the end of childhood for me.

“Let’s get us some fuckin’ pannycakes!” Freddy kicked me in the back with his velcro Keds while I tried to sleep on the floor of the Satanic man-cave room in his mom’s basement. Spending the night at Freddy’s was always the worst possible scenario.

We’re all time travelers, moving one second into the future every second.

A bad rower blames the oar

One time, I ran into Iggy Pop at a Chipotle in Orem, Utah. He had a “black card” from Chipotle corporate, which gave him unlimited everything at any Chipotle restaurant. I guess they used a quote from the song “I Wanna Be Your Dog” on the side of a drink cup, and he got paid with free Chipotle for life.

Me and Virgil cruised the mini-marts in a hundred-mile radius in his beaten-up jeep, looking for the one magical gas station that might still have Surge soda. (This was after the supply had run out, but long before they briefly rebooted it.) That fully-loaded citrus elixir, a magic mix of caffeine and terror, propelled me through life for years before suddenly vanishing from most stores.

Peggy was just a friend, and despite telling me “we’re just friends and I’d never fuck you” like six times an hour for our entire friendship, she wrote me a giant letter ten years later saying she totally wanted to fuck me and was constantly giving me the green light, and I was a fucking idiot for never picking it up,