Painting With John

So, I have a bird in my room.

He's right there,

and I don't know how to get him out.

And I feel bad for him, 'cause I was chasing him around,

and now he's all exhausted. It's like--

You could see it, 'cause he was like--

The bird was like... (PANTS)

He had his mouth wide open, like he was gasping for air.

I'm gonna give one last thing. Hey, bird.

Can you see him? Erik?

Yeah, I think I can see him. Yeah.

Yeah, you actually see him?

All right, I'm gonna-- I'm gonna

try to get you out of here again.

I really feel bad about this.

But here we go.

No, no, no. That's not where you wanna be.

You don't wanna be there.

I'm gonna move this.

Oh, you're gonna hang on?

What do you think is happening?

Oh, come on.

Just go outside.

Outside.

See, you come down and fly outside.

I am your friend. (CHUCKLES)

Where did he go?

I feel terrible for him. I would just leave it alone.

I don't wanna-- wanna sleep with here-- in here with him.

So, I live on this...

small island in the Caribbean.

I've been here for six, almost seven years.

This guy Leroy,

I wasn't really well enough to drive,

but I was trying to get into the water every day.

And Leroy would drive me.

He used to live in a different place

way on the top of this hill.

You go down this dusty road, and there'd be kids playing

and chickens and baby pigs running on the road.

Nice up there.

Leroy would pick me up,

and we would drive down the hill to the water.

And we kept seeing this guy...

skinny white guy.

He must have been 80.

And on a bicycle.

And he'd be going up the hill, like "bump-bump-bump-bum--"

I mean just, like...

so hard that it was just, like,

you would look at him and your mouth would fall open.

Like, this old guy going up the hill

in 100-degree weather.

It's like, how is he doing it? Why is he doing it?

You know, like, is he doing it for his health?

Why is he doing it?

And then, one day, he was gone.

We saw him every day,

and then one day, we didn't see him anymore.

And I said to Leroy...

"Maybe he exploded."

And then we used to go to this other place,

into this bay where Leroy didn't like driving 'cause...

it's a bumpy road

and he didn't like his van going down this bumpy, bumpy road.

But we'd go there and buy fish when the guys came in.

Like one in the afternoon, they come in

with snapper and lobster.

And, uh, on the way there...

there was this enormous bull.

I mean, this bull, I'd never seen a bull like this.

Like, twice the size.

Just this majestic beast.

Just this giant, giant bull.

And he's in this pen.

And there's no houses or barns,

anything or anywhere near this-- this bull.

We don't know who's taking care of him,

or what he's doing there, or what it's about.

And, uh...

and one day, he was gone.

And then, he was never there again.

So, these are the two things that me and Leroy

would talk about, is the size of this bull,

and about...

and the guy on the bicycle.

And then they were just gone.

And we kind of felt... maybe we were responsible

for sending them off somewhere.

So then we tried talking about...

people we didn't like, like my evil landlady,

to see if she would disappear.

But it didn't work.

She never disappeared.

And then... up at the top of this hill,

at the end of the road...

there was this guy with a little tiny homemade hibachi

that would sell chicken.

So, one day, we stopped and we got chicken.

And Leroy complained and complained and complained

and said, "This is no good. Not enough spice."

And, uh... and, uh, he was really angry.

He started calling the guy "chicken man" as an insult.

And then every day, we wouldn't get chicken again

'cause Leroy hated it. I thought it was okay,

but Leroy hated it, so we weren't gonna get it.

And every time we'd drive by,

chicken man would wave,

so we would wave back.

Except we weren't buying any more chicken. So...

chicken man, when we would drive by every day,

he'd be sitting on this road, he'd see us coming,

and he would wave.

And then, the waves got lower and lower,

until finally chicken man would just sort of sit there,

and we would come by, and he would just kind of go...

He would barely, like, lift his hand off his lap.

He'd just go...

And we would wave back with about the same enthusiasm.

And I said to Leroy, I said, "You know what?

I'm gonna not wave to chicken man anymore.

I'm tired of it."

And Leroy said, "I think he's tired of it, too."

And I said, "Well, let's not just stop waving.

Let's stop and tell him we're not gonna wave anymore,"

'cause it didn't make any sense.

And Leroy said, "I think he'd be fine with this arrangement."

So, we're coming up the hill and we're about to go around,

and then chicken man was gone.

And we never saw him again.

So everybody we talked about disappeared.

And we didn't see him for years.

And then Leroy heard that he got a job

on the oil dung truck.

Oil dung is this...

I mean, they take every carbohydrate in the world,

like breadfruit and-- and rice and potatoes,

and they put it in a pot.