The Skillz Report

 

Agent Stocker...Shelf Stocker. (June 27, 2016)

 

I'm playing PlayStation 3 as the Golden State Warriors and am losing 97-86 with a couple minutes left. Draymond Green is fouled while scoring...misses the free throw...grabs the rebound and scores again while fouled...misses another free throw...then throws down a thunderous dunk that somehow ties the game (even though it should be only 97-92 by my count...but what do I know?)

 

Stephen Curry makes a 3 to win the game 100-97, and I head to our local Food Maxx. In the entrance, a George Lucas-type is arguing with a Retta-type for not going through the entrance in timely fashion...he's still hot and carries on the argument inside the store as well. 

 

I casually point it out to an employee and continue shopping...only for the emp to track me down with a clipboard and pen asking for my "statement" on the argument like a cop. He then darts off before I can inform him the paper he handed me to write on is laminated...

 

 

What Is This Salty Discharge? (June 25, 2016)

 

It's the 4th quarter of the Vallejo High School hoops title game, which is alternating between inside a campus arcade (?) and outdoors. I'm Shaun Livingston of the Warriors, but I miss several easy shots and wind up the goat. Becoming myself again, I listen to a speech given by some female school administrator about ??? until the bell rings.

 

Photos of all of us students from our youth have been plastered all over campus, leading me to sob...even though my "photo" is a hideous offensive cartoon. Jerry Seinfeld is  there, sobbing at his photo; Mr. Burns is also there, giving Lisa Simpson a small butter tub of change he describes as "Millions!"

 

Things close with me finding former IRL classmate Chris Rose (no, no the one from FOX). We debate hugging, but both agree we're too sobby for such affection.

 

 

Rubber Bullets? (June 22, 2016)

 

I'm trying repeatedly to connect with an IRL friend via collect call; the operator is so arrogant that I give up and simply show up at said friend's place. There, I forget we're not dating, and am confused when she emerges from the shower and covers up her boobs. 

 

Skip to some metro area, where I take a long walk to a discount store hoping to find swim goggles for Josie. I look around for a bit until an employee announces she's "tired of me being there", so I get the goggles and head to "work", cleaning out a van for an older Asian guy. During my "shift", a friend of the guy shows up and tells of being shot in the head five times.

 

More happened, but I deem it not interesting enough.

 

 

Hey Zebra...Here's My Snake (June 21, 2016)

 

I'm bowling, and having difficulty with getting a lane AND using my ball. Some guy starts in on me like he knows me, giving me crap for not being a man, etc. He keeps on and on until I finally crack him over the head with a serving tray.

 

Next, I'm hooping against Dennis Rodman, who also starts disrespecting me before dropping his pants near the ref just because he feels like it, seemingly. Having enough, I head to a playground and sort through some (phony) basketball cards...where my old pal from the bowling alley starts up again.

 

Kids are around, and he describes me to them as "more like a mother than a father" and other similar snipes...until I physically attack him again. Three George Peppards arrive to assess the situation (as Hannibal Smith from The A-Team, some federal agent, and a space alien.)

 

 

You're QUITTING? I Can't Imagine Why (June 19, 2016)

 

For some reason, the old show New York Undercover is on the brain tonight. Unfortunately, Eddie—a lead detective—has decided to kill the medical examiner and quit the force. (In that order.) After an investigation led by Stabler from Law & Order: SVU brings Eddie down, Stabler fnds himself stuck on the phone organizing a celebratory party for the office ladies...all of which is shown in the episode. Yeah, executives—nothing says riveting TV quite like a guy on a phone ordering balloons.

 

 

We're Going To Need An Incubator (June 18, 2016)

 

While looking for a hoop court at 8am, I toss my gym bag into one door from a row of 10 set in some hallway. When I go to retreive it, some dude is droning on so painfully that I keep opening the wrong door.

 

Next, I find myself pooping at the 1250; halfway through flush, I realize the pipes lead nowhere and catch everything in a plastic tub before catastrophe strikes. "Everything" turns out to be a large pile of alphabet soup.

 

I recruit two radio producers (?) to lug the tub outside and downstairs. On the porch are two boxes left for a stranger: one with a video game he ordered and one with his unborn child, who's still alive somehow. Don't ask; I just report.

 

Back inside, a gypsy-like woman slips me a phone message from God knows who, asking me to call him back at 3am. Yeah...that's probably not going to happen, sir.

 

 

WE'RE The Medics Now (June 16, 2016)

 

I'm doing a sports talk show with some dude from atop my bed. I'm doing okay, but when my partner shushes me during commercials, I leave and flip on a documentary about a criminal in Mexico who ran over some guy, then forced her way into being someone's roommate simply by yelling at them non-stop (worth mention: in the re-enactment when she mowed the guy down, the surrounding crowd simply picked him up and left.) 

 

Skip to a Golden State Warriors "practice". Players are at the respective holes of a billiards table, and each one has a large coin. They are to "move the ball" and hit the open shot—coin into hole. This proves next to impossible and though coach Steve Kerr isn't pleased, he still does an "interview" with me where I imitate his voice, and he imitates the voice of CSN sideline reporter Roz...a little too well.

 

 

I Wasn't Wrong! (June 15, 2016)

 

The NBA Finals are being held at Vallejo Senior High School (my alma mater). I hand LeBron James a basketball, only to promptly swat it right back out of his hands. The Warriors win, but the VSHS crowd is not enthused, and nothing gets them pumped until the players collectively sing "Happy Happy Holidays" on loop. 

 

Injured Andrew Bogut tries to leap into the celebration...it is sad to watch. Afterward, Cavs coach Ty Lue—who now has several unexplained gaps in his teeth—speaks with me, until I offend him by implying the team lost because he's a rookie, and that their owner might replace him. He then exaggeratedly storms off in a huff like George Jefferson, and LeBron looks at me as if to say "that's why we lost".

 

 

Hey, What's Up, Number Three? (June 14, 2016)

 

I go to the doc for a "toe infection" just to shut my mom up, then leave before its over, convinced I am fine. The walk home takes me through a medical seminar, where an actual infectee is cured. I simply don't care and keep going, even as my original doc yells "Come back! You left spit on a cup!"

 

While resting, some random wet kids use me as a chair (swimming wet, not urine wet). I resume walking and pass a baseball field in use by various buds from all walks of my life; wanting to remember the group for next week, I write small numbers on their clothes (except my bud Jay, who can't pick out a good spot on his outfit for me to label.) How in God's name this is supposed to help my memory in any way is a mystery.

 

 

Grand Theft Mario (June 13, 2016)

 

Three random visions: Princess Peach from Super Mario Bros. pulling a machine gun on a baddie, Six from Blossom forced to stay inside due to suspected drug use, and the actor Michael B. Jordan + crony seriously threatening to beat me and my supposed partner down over "profits".

 

 

Am I The Mystery Son? (June 9, 2016)

 

My uncle Bubba is driving a cop car into the 1250 driveway, followed by a pursuing sheriff. Without seeming to notice the sheriff, Bubba proceeds to drive over bushes and a curb back onto the road...with the sheriff close behind. I get the idea to warn Bubba by running up a couple of side roads to get ahead of him...which fails, see, because I'm on FOOT and he's in a CAR. The chase is left unresolved.

 

Soon, I find myself kickin' it with LeBron James, where some random female declares herself the mother of my IRL bud Rob's oldest son...which is odd since Rob has no sons at all. A meeting is arranged for her to meet with him; for some reason I'm there, too, and I'm quite confused when this chick's ghetto pals have a "bed saved for me". Sorry, Rob...you're on your own, buddy.

 

 

And PEPITONE Was The One Who Got Punched Out? (June 8, 2016)

 

I re-read Reggie Jackson's autobiography, and upon doing so I learn the infamous "straw that stirs the drink" article was a revenge prank for Reggie damaging a pendant belonging to Kramer from Seinfeld. 

 

An IRL ex-friend we'll call Krissy exits a hotel room looking awful, like A.J. Pierzynski. Through her, I find out that to use the shower requires a phone call and another tenant to "activate" said shower.

 

I do all this, shower, and join up with D-Rock and Stanley from The Office to vote downstairs. For some reason I'm obsessed with taking a selfie of us, but attempt after attempt after attempt fail. In one "selfie", I somehow manage to snap a pic of other people.

 

 

Sorry Pal, I'll Pray For Ya (June 7, 2016)

 

It's a good old fashioned game of bedroom football; with the lead and five seconds remaining, I prematurely celebrate a win...though the opposing coach (Samuel Jackson) has a time-out remaining—which he uses. Upset at my idiocy, I'm relieved when it turns out I'm an actor in a film and the game is staged.

 

Next, I'm training to drive the bus. After stopping to buy "apple slice coffee", my trainer reveals himself to be blind in one eye. Though he HAD been driving perfectly fine, after the reveal, he can barely stay in lanes and starts turning blue...prompting me to exit (but not call for help).

 

Finally, I go from bus to taxi driver, and a customer wants a ride to SF. After a LONG wait for the price from dispatch ($68), the customer leaves, and the dispatcher asks me to pick up a live "crickadee" for his soup. Driving up the narrow uphill road to get it, the car drives itself into a senior citizen's wide ass. (It's all good; she doesn't even seem to notice.)

 

 

When In Doubt, Dig A Grave (June 6, 2016)

 

This one bounced all over the place...

 

D-Rock and I are attempting to return a library book, but I keep grabbing the wrong book or entering the wrong library. The building is connected to our INV apartment, which is also connected to a grocery store. For some reason, customers are trying to passively/aggressively dissuade us from using one of the few shopping carts...but I do anyway. 

 

Day becomes night, and D-Rock becomes my mom, daughter and her 14-year-old friend Jadyn. As we shop, Jadyn walks off and disappears; I try to find her for, oh, a few seconds. We don't find Jadyn, but we do find her mom Alex eventually—as well as a duo paying tribute to a friend who died on a jungle gym. Alex tells a "sad story" to sympathize, but the story has no point and the duo is uninterested.

 

Unsure of what to do next, I bury a dead cat in a shoebox nearby.

 

 

Hope That Mentos Worked (June 5, 2016)

 

On board a train, passing the "Mare Island Bridge" and the "Golden Gate Bridge" somehow right behind each other, a woman won't stop talking to me (mostly about the train not stopping in Ireland). Though I'm gobbling down Mentos like popcorn, I'm highly nervious about my breath so I smooch the woman to shut her up. 

 

Next, a "sweep" is underway at my apartment complex. Conveniently, all the apartments are suddenly inter-connected, so I just walk into my neighbor's place out of curiousity—escaping punishment when the footprint I leave behind is blamed on the landlord. 

Finally, I find myself trapped with buds Juan and Aldo in "Korea", which is actually just the sewer stage of a Super Mario game.

 

 

Why Are We Wasting Money Flying There?? (June 4, 2016)

 

Even with kids near, people are angrily firing stones at me and my small group. When that doesn't slow me down, they try hooking my arm and spinning me into a "Mary Had A Little Lamb" loop. I reunite with my separated group and make it to a moonlit room with a door to "Japan". The vision ends before our fates are decided...never knowing what we did wrong in the first place.

 

At "Fenway Park", a list of players is posted, and whenever one homers during the TV highlights, my job is to scratch his name off. During lulls, I chop it up with NBA legend Paul Pierce, who apparently has nothing better to do than hang out some cramped, outdated film room with a guy he doesn't know—even in Boston, his NBA home of over a decade.

 

 

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