Johnny Panic: Check Your Privilege Part 3 of 3

Click here for previous Check Your Privilege.

“I mean, honestly, who really cares about Johnny Panic anymore? Yeah, about ten years ago when he was a cute teenager flying through the air kicking tanks and saving old ladies as they crossed the street while an 18-wheeler barreled towards them we cheered him on but today he shtick is played. Yeah, he's rich. Yeah, he's hot. But I'm sick of seeing his face. I'm not the only one right?”

“Who is this ass-rascal?” I ask Ronica. We're sitting on the couch watching this chick talk mad shit about me. And the audience is applauding. Applauding, I say!

“Her name's Aphrodite Malone” she tells me. “She used to be a big time blogger, still is sometimes, but about a month ago they gave her a talk show.”

“Why?”

“People think she is funny” Ronica says. “I've read a few of her posts. I don't find her funny at all. She just complains about everything and other bitchy people cheer her on. Like now.”

Johnny Panic: Check Your Privilege Part 2 of 3

Click here for part 1.

About ten minutes after we left that photography place and Zazz continued to lie about never taking dick pics Ronica called to let me know about an accident on the 10 freeway. I wasn't doing anything but quietly judging my best friend so I decided to head over and help. I got there and kinda made the situation worse.

The scene of an accident is already full of chaos. Having the world's only superhero show up to help doesn't...help. People tend to stare and take pictures instead of handling business. I land next to a car that is smoking and gonna blow up any second and half on top of this lady. I go to snatch it up and an EMT screams at me.

“Panic, stop!”

“How come why?”

“Her legs are underneath! Suddenly moving the pressure can make it worse!”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“This is my job! I know what I'm talking about!”

“So...I should leave?”

“Put out the goddamn fire and let us do our job! Please?”

Johnny Panic: Check Your Privilege Part 1 of 3

“Now just a little to the left...perfect!”

Another day.

“Okay, now smile...that's...okay...great!”

Another photo shoot.

“Give me a little flight, Johnny! Just a...oh, good god!”

This guy loves his job too much.

“And...we're done! Thank you so much!”

I'd love my job too if I had the pleasure of taking pictures of me for the day. Sometimes I take dick pics for the hell of it. I'll send them to Ronica even though she is laying right next to me. She will sigh and the next thing you know I'm flying to another state to grab her something she likes. Its a bartering system and the key to a happy relationship. When women are full of food they like they can't protest the sex. I read that somewhere.

My bestfriend Zazz is off to the side texting while we're in this studio. Probably his wife. Nerd. I bet he has never sent his wife a dick pic. He's not that type of guy. He's the type to send a selfie while at a restaurant or of the food he is eating. I'll never understand how he got a chick like Aimee. Its on some Billy Bob/Jolie level shit.