Crispin Glover: an imaginary portrait

This is a hard hitting expose on the origins of multimedia artist Crispin Glover.

 

Crispin Glover is the secret love child of Jan and Bobby Brady. Her pregnancy was concealed by the clever application of diet pills and maternity wear that she managed to pass off as a fashion statement since it was the 60's. Upon his birth he was quickly hidden in the attic and forgotten about. He made friends with the rats which left the cockroaches that he could catch using clever traps made from attic refuse his only source of food. He caught water in an old flower pot as it dripped through a crack in the roof. Luckily, there were several boxes of old and new used books to pass the time. Reading Kafka, Camus, and Burroughs he was able to stave of insanity by anchoring what little life experience that he had to the surrealistic grumblings of madmen.

Upon his 25th birthday he fell trough a hole in the roof and found that a group of crack heads were now living in the lower portion of his home. He immediately cried, "Mommy, mommy" and tried to embrace a dead hooker who lie rotting near the old fireplace, now full of brillo pads and over used syringes. No one took much notice of this so he made his way outside for the first time in his life.

When he was first acknowledged by another human he celebrated by bursting into a rap song about masturbation. His new audience loved him very much and gave him a record deal as well as finding him roles in several films that were too unusual for anyone else. When he mentioned that he had written several books his new family encouraged him to retrieve them from the old crack house and so he set out one day on a nostalgic adventure.

He arrived at the old crack house about half past nine. The sun was going down and the lights were off, but his keen night vision allowed him to spy several sets of bloody eyes peering through various windows at him. He was glad that somebody was home. He danced a little as he knocked on the front door, but got tired after a few minutes and his jig degenerated into rapid foot tapping. Finally he kicked in the door and was shot three times in the face and once in the leg by one of the crack heads.

He died and went to heaven. God looked upon him and said, "Good God man, what's wrong with you? Get thee back to earth, boy. You scare me." He found himself back in his body, still lying in the doorway where he had died. His wounds were miraculously healed and he rejoiced. He stood up and jazz handsed at God while singing in a falsetto voice, "Thanks god. You're a great guy". All the crack heads were fast asleep and he didn't care too much for them anymore anyway, so he walked up to the attic and got his books.

He came back to his friends house, which was actually the pool house in his mom's back yard and he showed the books to his friend. His friend read the books and said they were good. He wanted to publish them and charge a kazillion dollars apiece. Crispin Glover didn't care though. He was a zombie now.  

Reviews

[Lucy Landers]

You've tried crack, haven't you.

[Hyatt_B]

At the risk of seeming gushy, yours is the first writing that hasn't made me want to puke with it's triteness.

It's great and a relief to find someone writing something original and wry.

[Hyatt_B]

At the risk of seeming gushy, yours is the first writing that hasn't made me want to puke with it's triteness.

It's great and a relief to find someone writing something original and wry.