Call Me Gary Comma Indiana

What begins with fart pills becomes a memoir of legacy, lies, and lounge seating.

When I graduated from Plagiarists College (BS), my mentor advised me to adopt a pseudonym to avoid unwanted attention. "They can't catch what they can't name!" she screeched one last time as she burned my diploma in front of me. But I refused. Process servers don't deserve to be confused any more than anyone else so why should they have all the fun? No, if I were going to confuse anyone, it would be the entire world because that's true equality, plus a real time-saver if I can hit the whole thing at once.

And, yes, I consider only those who remain on the surface of the Earth to be part of 'the whole thing.'

There. Happy now, Sandy? It's now in writing that your naming rights of my grandfather's species are recognized! Rest assured, I will not allow Grandmother to bury any more husbands in your yard, and I trust our business is concluded.

Ah! As I sit here in the Ballerz Lounge I stare at the bejeweled goblet warming in my hand as the weight of my promise to Grandmother hangs heavily on my shoulders. The elusive species she had entrusted me with protecting was more than just a namesake, it was a legacy that tied our family to the very fabric of the natural world! I had spent years studying his behaviors, his migratory patterns, his intricate social structures. But now, with Sandy's claim settled, I feared that the secrets of my Grandfather's species would be lost to time because I never actually did any of those things, much less wrote them down anywhere.

What if that's why I'm writing my memoirs now? Have I learned a lesson about writing things down, even if they just happen to be lies? Fleetingly interesting if so, but now I move on without examining it any further, and frankly, so should you. Next paragraph!
I present for posterity and completely without motivation to distract any further, one of Grandfather's most precious secrets! His final communication to me, transcribed as closely as I am able to recall, written down for the very first time, anywhere:

Grandfather's Drug Store Shopping List (Final Edition)
1. Fart pills
2. Other kind of fart pills
3. Growler-pull of grape cough syrup (if they're out ask for Xanax)
4. Vitamin B-complex pills, capsules, and suppositories
5. Vitamin C pills, capsules, suppositories, fizzy pills, and fizzy suppositories
6. Vitamin D (waggle your eyebrows suggestively when you ask and they'll waive the co-pay)
7. Vaccine for Dengue Fever (if they're out ask for more Xanax)
8. I meant it when I said a veritable cavalcade of leeches! (count them this time)
9. More of those things I stick up my nose because the fart pills are so incredibly effective
10. Cod Livers
11. Oil
12. Pharmaceuticals-grade blender
13. The usual unguents, including, BUT NOT LIMITED TO: eardrum polish, ear hair wax, earlobe greaser, neck & shoulder de-greaser, Molded Oldies ointment, Bacon-Beard Rash extender, and synthetic nurple purpler (shade - Just Plum Spectacular)

I felt a strange, almost electric satisfaction of giddiness in my chest as those words tumbled out - a feeling I never imagined once I decided to spill the secret I've been guarding so lazily. Releasing Grandfather's final message was like letting a caged bird fly free, and it's a revelation that my self-satisfaction is from seeing that bird of truth soaring in the wind instead of from it being too noisy and stinky and I don't want it in the Lounge. A renewed sense of purpose? You had me at "it works with telling other people's secrets, too."