by Dan Brooks (10/29/99)

as performed by Adam Burton (10/13/06)

I talk about myself in the third person a lot, because Brett Deckers is bigger than you or me. When I say "He" and I’m talking about "me", Brett Deckers, I capitalize it, just like I’m fucking God in the fucking Bible. I never say "He" if I’m not talking about me, because who the fuck is he if he’s not Brett Deckers?

When I go to work, I ride in a big black car. It’s got a bumper sticker on it that says "Honk if you want to be Brett Deckers," and it’s soundproof. It has to be because everyone wants to be me, because Brett Deckers is a Highly Excellent Person. When I turn on the TV and I see little starving kids in Somalia with heads the size of bowling balls and bodies the size of cellular phones, they say to me "Hey, Brett Deckers. Don’t send me clothes, don’t send me penicillin, don’t send me fucking rice. Send me a little piece of your skin so I can paste it to my great big fucking forehead and think about how I can be Highly Excellent like you." But I don’t do it, because Brett Deckers doesn’t cut off his skin for anybody.

When I get to work my secretary, Rod Masters says, "Good morning, Mr. Deckers." He doesn’t call me Brett because he knows if he did that he’d come all over himself and ruin his business suit. He’s trying to be Highly Excellent just like me, so he doesn’t want that to happen. But he’d do it if I told him to. If I went in there tomorrow morning and said, "Hey, Rod Masters, why don’t you come all over yourself right now," he’d do it. It wouldn’t matter if he was on the phone or what; he’d blow his load right there. Then I’d make an intern clean him off, while I had a snack and thought about how Highly Excellent I am.

When Brett Deckers is at work he doesn’t do anything for anybody. People call my secretary and ask what they can do for me, and unless they’re as Highly Excellent as Brett Deckers I tell them to fuck off. On my nephew’s tenth birthday I called him up long distance just to tell him to fuck off, because what can he do for me? At exactly 12:15 every day, after I get tired of people asking what they can do for me, I take a great big shit. And to me it’s just a big turd, but to you it’s a sixteen ounce filet mignon. I can talk about things like my own shit and you’ll still respect me, because that’s how Brett Deckers wants it to be.

After work, Brett Deckers goes to big important parties with big important people – investment bankers seven feet tall and professional basketball players who carry briefcases full of human hearts. At these parties, when everybody else is talking about big, important things, I talk about work. In the middle of a conversation with the president of the Peace Corps, the CEO of NBC, and the Shah of Fucking Iran, I say, "Hey, shut the fuck up. Let’s talk about what you can do for Brett Deckers."

At the end of the party, Gloria Steinem comes up to me and says, "Hey, Brett Deckers. Isn’t your entire world just a macho power fantasy that equates business acumen with sexual prowess?" And I say, "No, gorgeous" and we fuck. Brett Deckers doesn’t make love, because Brett Deckers has plenty.

And when Brett Deckers fucks, I say words like "cunt" the whole time. Big, dynamic, excellent words like "twat" and "ass" and "wad." You think it’s romantic because when you’re getting fucked by Brett Deckers you think what Brett Deckers wants you to think. And when you get fucked by Brett Deckers, I don’t fuck you in the normal hole. I fuck you in a special hole that only Brett Deckers knows about. It’s a Highly Excellent hole, that no one else will ever be able to find on you again.

And later, when you are pregnant with Brett Deckers’ Highly Excellent child, you’ll try to look back on your life and all you will remember is my day at work. And when you try to think of the time we met, you’ll only be able to remember having lunch with Jack Blitzer and talking about the Axe-Pullman account. And you won’t care about your old life, because when you’re Brett Deckers, there’s no time to be anyone else.