A brick could be used to help you become an Olympic swimmer. Tie the brick around your legs and have a friend drop you off someplace, say the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and then simply swim back to shore. By the time you hit the beach, you’ll be able to swim faster than a shark. In fact, you’ll have to if you plan on making it home.
A blanket could be used to find the Brick of Truth. Many lies will be layered on the Brick of Truth to try to cover it up, but the blanket will cover up all the lies, thus covering up the cover up and thereby revealing the Brick of Truth. And don’t try to steal the covers, because the blanket will only provide warmth to the Brick of Truth.
A brick could be used to attract a potential life partner. Yes indeed, and it’s how I met my ex wife. And the only reason she didn’t become my life partner was because I outlived our relationship, despite her numerous attempts to kill me. I’m 31 years old now, so thank God for modern science enabling me to achieve such longevity.
A brick could replace the eagle as the symbol for the United States of America. And why not? A brick just sort of sits there, expecting everything to be built around it; a brick crumbles, much like an empire; and a brick is nonthinking, just like America’s “leadership” in Washington DC—on both sides of the political spectrum.
A brick could be used to commit genocide on a small patch of grass, if you lay the brick down on the lawn and leave it there long enough. But I do not condone this monstrosity of lawntrocity. (Lawn + atrocity—clever, no? OK, no, it’s not so clever. To have any lawngevity as a writer, I’ve got to avoid making clunky, brick-like puns.)
A brick could be used as the perfect response in one particular situation. Next time someone says, “I love you,” say nothing. Just grab a brick, cradle it with both hands like a kitten, and hold it out to the other person. Whether you want the other person to leave, or whether you want them to stay, the response works flawlessly every time.
A brick could be your new best friend. If this appeals to you, it’s probably because people tend to seek the company of others who posses similar intellects and interests. And as I have just begun demonstrating, a brick can be very interesting indeed. Now, where did I put my mortar? I must go grab some, because I think my new friend is getting cold.
A brick could be a politician, if you attached strings, taught it to dance, and allowed it to read a teleprompter. Remember: whether it’s Republican or Democrat, it’s still a brick, and it will do whatever the Mason’s want it to. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work. Now, where did I leave my secret handshake?
A blanket could be used as Concealment Revealer. It both conceals and reveals, like great dialogue. Here’s some great dialogue I wrote for two characters, Mr. Brick, and Ms. Blanket: Mr. Brick: I like your dress Ms. Blanket: I’m naked, you moron Mr. Brick: Tuesdays make me vomit. What are you doing one minute after Monday at 11:59 PM?
A blanket could be used as a tarp over one of those tiny circular inflatable pools for children. Well, you might call it a tarp, but I’d call it a trap. But I’ve already tried everything I can think of to silence the noisy neighbor kids, from mousetraps on lollipop sticks, to superglue disguised as lip gloss—and yet the shrieking continues.
A blanket could be used like Lenny McDenny says hello. He never says hi, because he only says goodbye. He’s always leaving and never arriving. I’m like that too, except I’m always arriving and never leaving. I also eat all the food in your fridge, and never leave when you ask me to. Why would I leave? Good food, good friends, and good food.
I think the most romantic letter you ever gave me was “W,” because it’s a couple of soul mate “V”s. Or maybe they were a couple of letters of the same sex engaging in a homosexual relationship. A “W” is two “V”s in a civil union, but the world is not ready to flip that on its head and let them go for the big “M.
A brick could be used to help you get used to the fact that you’ve been used. I’ve been used to, so I know what you’re going through. You’re going through a dark tunnel, and just when you think it can’t get any darker, trust me, you’ll see a light. That’s an oncoming train, so I’d see how fast you can reverse course.
A brick could be used in the same manner as a magician’s hat could be used as a basketball. I’m not suggesting a brick replace a basketball, because that’d be silly. But not as silly as the idea of paying people millions of dollars to put a rubber ball in a rim, while engineers, inventors, teachers, you know, productive people, limp along financially.
One of the truly bizarre things about our current cultural situation is that the leading figures of the scientific establishment seem genuinely amazed that the citizens do not accept finch-beak variation as proof of the claim that humans, like all animals and plants, are accidental products of a purposeless universe in which only material processes have operated from the beginning.
