Thursday, February 2, 2023

Ken Bone’s “Journal”: A Fresh Toast Exclusive

Through intensive efforts by The Fresh Toast’s investigative team, we bring you the exclusive LiveJournal entries from America’s greatest hero, Mr. Kenneth Bone. We may not deserve him, but we definitely need him right now. 

A wonderful surprise
Oct. 3, 2016

Great news, journal. I’ve been selected as an audience member for Sunday night’s town hall debate. It just floors me they’d pick a simple guy like me, Kenneth Bone, to ask the candidates a question. As you know, I’m undecided.

They don’t make these choices easy for us regular folk. One option is a two-faced phony and the other an orange-faced monster. I’m leaning toward the orange-faced monster, but I just don’t know. Even though the outlook’s wretched, I sure wish so many media people would stop telling me I should be decided already.

I wonder what I’ll wear? Probably that olive suit in the closet. My mustache transforms into a power stache under the proper circumstances and wearing that olive suit is one of them. Mom will sure be proud of me wearing a suit on television. I guess I should have a backup just in case, though.

Just a few days, journal. I’m so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. It almost feels like I’m in a movie.

Morning Coffee Thoughts
Oct. 8, 2016

Tomorrow’s the debate and my how things have changed. I don’t even want to write down what the picky-pucker monster said a whole 11 years ago. He apologized thankfully, but called it “locker room talk.” Ain’t that a kick in the head? After last week’s game, the rec league guys and I chatted about Chinese stock market manipulations and Ariana Grande records. What locker rooms is that picky-pucker monster visiting? Makes you wonder.

I also must report another “incident.” My smokin’ hot wife and I strolled out for a treat last night. Our favorite spot, the yogurt shop by the park. My wife visited the ladies’ room so I visited the counter to pay. As I pulled out my wallet, the cashier blurted out, “I’m s-s-sorry, but I th-think—well I think I love you.”

I sighed. Not this again, I thought. “No you don’t,” I said.

“N-n-no, I do,” she said. “Excuse my st-stammer, I’m just so nervous. I’ve never met such a ma-ma-man like you.”

I handed her the cash politely, instructing her to keep the change. Best just to proceed onward in these situations I’ve learned.

My wife returned and we exited the shop. But not before the woman yelled after us. “Please let me hug you!” she shouted. “You l-look like you’d give the best hugs! Puh-puh-please!”

Neither my wife nor I turned around. Times like these remind me how tough it is being a Bone man. But I didn’t choose the Bone man life. I was born into it.

Late into the morrow
Oct. 9, 2016

Holy jumpin’s, journal. You won’t believe the time I had at the debate. I didn’t end up wearing that olive suit, after all. When I sat in the car, my pants ripped. Guess that’s what happens when you add on some love cushion like I did. Oh well. I had my favorite red Izod sweater as backup. Hope I still looked stylish on TV!

I wonder how it was on TV, the debate. Those first 20 minutes when the sniffle monster and mouth-smacking phony tore into one another sure was intense. It was like watching mom and dad fight. Well, someone else’s mom and dad. The Bone family aren’t fighters. We’re lovers.

Afterwards I snapped some photos with my handy disposable camera and met some politicians. Bill Clinton shook my hand, then hugged me, whispering in my ear, “Game respect game, my G.”

How did he know I played the saxophone, too? That guy sure is a hoot.

All that commotion was enough fun for me. I’m just ready to return to my simple life back in Indiana. I might tweet some photos once they develop so grandma can see them. What wild and weird times we live in. That a simple Bone man like me was heard in this kooky election. Who knows what tomorrow might bring?

The Internet L-O-V-E-S Me
Oct. 10, 2016

Holy poop. But how?

This Bone man will never understand why the world loves what it does. I’m just glad, this time, it happened to be me.

 

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