Your Esteemed Eminence

I am Brian James O’Connor Prisco. I stand five feet tall and four feet wide. I am two parts Santa Claus, two parts Cheshire Cat, and one part Puck. I am shaken, not stirred. I am a playwright, an actor, a poet, a storyteller. I have skeletons in my closet, and bodies in the basement. I am a lover and a fighter. I have been a summer camp counselor, personal mail carrier, movie theater usher, box-office, concessionist, assistant group supervisor to poor children, museum docent for Moravian tour sites, bank teller, retail clerk, waiter at Ground Rizzound, a bookwhore, a pharmaceutical reconcilation specialist, and a part-time carny. I am a hunter-gather, a warrior-poet, sent to devastate all who cross my path, pillaging villages and plundering dunderheads. I wield my pen sword cleaving buffoons like chaff from wheat. I am the scourge of the seven seas. I cruise from tavern to tavern seeking to satiate my unquenchable appetite for bourbon and beautiful babies. I laugh with the sinners and cry wtih the saints. I am the money. I am the shiznit. I can out drink any man, woman, and child and several 500-pound gorillas. I drink like a fish, swear like a sailor, and hootie like a blowfish. I am Thesaurus Rex, riddling my prey with complex verbage and whittling with witticisms until they collapse under the weight of my voluptuous vocabulary. I bob, I weave, I float, I fly and my clothes are all neatly pressed. I am the son of a vice president of construction management and a middle school lunch lady. I am 100% all-american, 99.5% Ivory pure, and 1/4 pound ground Chuck. I stay crunchy in milk. I can bench press my own weight. I can run a four minute mile in ten. I come in twelve scrumptous flavors. I was the second gunman on the grassy knoll. I am some assembly required, batteries not included. I contain parts not recommended for children under the age of 4. I know all the words to “Ice Ice Baby”. I am a karaoke dynamo. I am untapped potential. I am greatness to be achieved. I am the next big thing. I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep. I am almost famous. I am Keiser Soze. I am a rock, I am an island. I am the voice of a new generation. I am grease lightning. I am Tiger Woods. I have written twenty-five one act plays, some of which were good. Most of which were good. ALL OF WHICH WERE GOOD. Great. I am not a bright beautiful snowflake. I am not my fucking khakis. I am nothing original. I am the combined effort of everybody I’ve ever known. I am fully loaded, air-conditioned, and four-wheel drivef. I am the past, the present and the future. I am the here and now. I am your father, Luke. I ramble, I rant, I rave, and I never run out of R words. I am an idiot full of sound and fury, I am a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage, but I will be heard again. I am nothing. I am everything. I am beyond the scope of the English language. I need to be seen to be believed. I can not be confined in mere sentences. I know what evil lurks in the hearts of men. I am Brian Prisco. Coo-coo-ca-choo.