postcards from the pug bus
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***image2***WEST GOSHEN, PA.—Taco Bell’s current ad touting its breakfast crunch wrap sliders features an elderly piggy bank named Clementine and a young fellow named Mark, with whom the piggy bank has shared a room for roughly a dozen years. We learn during the ad that Clementine has seen Mark, who looks to be about nineteen now, go through plenty of changes growing up.
We see Mark wielding a light saber and playing the guitar. We also learn that Taco Bell’s breakfast crunch wrap sliders are so inexpensive (just $1 apiece) that Mark doesn’t have to bust open Clementine in order to buy a few, even though the treacherous shit has given the idea some thought.
Apart from wondering what a young man is doing with a fucking piggy bank in his room (where his mother still makes his bed?), we here at the Pug Bus wonder what else Clementine might have observed as she sat there quietly on a shelf all those years.
Pug Bus: After seeing the new ad, we’re guessing that you probably know Mark like no one else does.
Clementine: And how! Can you say “chronic masturbator”? If I had a nickel for every time that kid choked the chicken . . . before school, after school, before going to sleep . . . during the night . . .
PB: One if by hand, two if by the other hand, eh?
Clementine: I half expected him to try it with his feet one day. You should have been there when he almost got his wiener stuck in his mother’s vacuum cleaner.
PB: Sorry to have missed that one.
Clementine: Yeah, right. At least you could close your eyes, but the constant wanking wasn’t the only thing I had to witness. There’s a lot else I could tell you.
Clementine: Like how whenever Mark wet the bed, he blamed it on the dog. Used to spank the dog for it, too. Mark’s lame parents went along with the gag because they thought Mark’s room should be his “safe space.” Don’t get me started on them or on Mark’s taste in music. If I have to listen to one more hip-hop “artist” going on about coming in somebody’s ear, I’ll scream.
PB: So we’re talking about a serial-wanking, animal-abusing, wannabe wigger . . .
Clementine: And more. Marky Mark is also a klepto. His favorite targets are Dollar Stores because small shit is easy to steal. He had a huge collection of crap plastic action figures. Did some pretty weird shit with them that I’d rather not talk about.
PB: It’s fortunate the rest of the world doesn’t know Mark as well as you do.
Clementine: You bet your bacon, if you pardon the expression.
PB: You know, we did think it ironic that an ad for a product that contains bacon or sausage would feature a piggy bank.
Clementine: Wait until PETA hears about that.
PB: What do you think will become of you after Mark finally goes to community college or gets his own place?
Clementine: Good question. I’ll be twelve in piggy bank years next week. That’s a pretty long time. I could use a rest, but I’m hearing that Mark’s parents are thinking of turning this into a guest room some day. God only knows what I’ll have to see when that happens, though it probably won’t be as bad as the time Mark hid a web cam in his sister’s room.
PB: He what?
Clementine: Yep. We don’t want to go there, nor do we want to go to the time when Mark was thirteen and he thought he might be transgender, so he and some of his little boy friends played hide the sausage in Mark’s room. I wanted to throw myself off the shelf.
PB: Oh, man.
Clementine: Well it could have been worse. I could have been born on a factory farm.